#soaps been quiet the entire time just gritting his teeth and letting them have go after go in the name of peace | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captain-mj · 1 year

Note

That memory loss fic has done me in. I’m on my knees, captain. A part 2 would make my week <3

I've seen the requests and I got you guys!! Was planning on this being the last part, but uh... it got rather long lol.

Price had escaped relatively unscathed despite how hard that punch was. Soap wasn’t too surprised, Price was very tough. It didn’t stop Graves from fussing over him.

“Uh, Captain?” He knocked and interrupted them. “Ghost is still...”

Price sighed, sitting back in his seat. “Any luck figuring out what’s going on?”

“Yes, actually. He thinks he’s been with a Roba for four months. Thought I heard you two mention the name before.”

Price visibly paled a little. “Ah. That’s not good. That’s not good at all.”

“Who is he?”

“Cartel leader a few years back. He had several soldiers taken. Experimentation, brainwashing, conditioning. It was nasty. Simon ended up the only person surviving it.”

Graves stood up. “I don’t think Ghost would want me around for this. I’ll see you two later.” He kissed Price’s cheek, punched Soap’s shoulder and left.

Soap nodded at him before continuing. “He thinks he’s four months in. He’s paranoid, not as much as I was expecting though. Let me give him a drink and only bit me once.”

Price nodded. “He’s not going to wear a mask like this. He didn’t back then. It would explain why he reacted that way in the van.”

Soap nodded. “Couldn’t see our faces.”

“I meant the skulls. Roba wore skull face paint. Had all his men wear it too. Not to mention a couple of other nasty memories. It’s why Ghost wears it. Symbol of fear for him.” Price sighed. “Did you try explaining?”

Soap was a little caught up in the information he was just given. He didn’t understand why Ghost would wear something that would remind him of his past like that.

“I told him he lost his memories and he said that’s a new form of brainwashing. Basically brushed me off. Gets real upset when you call him Ghost to. He also... made a couple concerning comments.... He mentioned a Lady. I said I’d reward him if he’d work with me and he said he didn’t want the Lady. Didn’t really specify. You know anything about that?”

“No. I’ll tell the nurses though. We’ll keep women from going in there alone, just in case. Doubt he’ll attack them, but we don’t want him anymore scared than necessary.” Price shook his head. “I hope we get this figured out soon. If not, he might have to go on leave and possibly discharged.”

Soap knew what that meant. If it goes on, Simon will disappear. He wasn’t technically alive. They’d be dumping him on the street.

“Sir, I’m aware that Ghost doesn’t have any living family.”

“Don’t tell him.” Price said immediately. “I’ll make sure everyone knows. We need to make sure he does not find out.”

“Why not? If he doesn’t wake up and he knows we lied...”

“Soap, that is a very valid worry. But Ghost right now is a very big flight risk. I’m... Simon will try to commit. He did it the first time he found out and he tried twice our first month of working together. He’s fragile. He can be pissed at us later. Right now, we have enough problems without needing him on suicide watch.” Price whispered it to him and Soap’s stomach turned.

“What do you mean tried to commit?? You’re telling me a man with three suicide attempts is allowed in the fucking army?” Soap hissed at Price. Besides the rules and regulations around those things, if Ghost really did try and Price just fucking let him go back. Let him on the field with big guns and plenty of opportunities to fucking die. Soap gritted his teeth to Keep himself quiet.

“Look, he’s legally dead. I know it’s hard to understand, but when he wasn’t let back in, he went to Mexico himself and destroyed an entire cartel single handedly. You want him walking the streets? Near civilians? Yes, in the beginning, he struggled. Was convinced he was dead. That he had never crawled out of the graves. Used to say and do shit that concerned me. He’s better.”

“Better? He wears a mask constantly and avoids conversation like the plague.”

“You didn’t see it.” Price suddenly sounded very far away. “I’m worried you’re about to, but you didn’t see it. You think Ghost is fucked up now? He walked around like a goddamn corpse. He found his family murdered only a few months after being tortured and buried alive. I feel like all things considered, he’s better than most.”

Soap was still angry. So goddamn angry. He just didn’t think it was directed at Price. “When was the last time he... attempted?”

“Over a year ago. He’s been clean since. I check him occasionally.” Price sighed. “I... need you to keep an eye on him. He won’t be as slippery as he is now, not as experienced, but he’s smart as hell.” He shook his head lightly.

“Will do, sir.”

“Soap, I know you two are close. I trust you, okay? Be careful with him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Price shook his head and looked away. Soap could see the exhaustion sound like the plague.

“How long did they have him?”

“Seven months.” Price sighed.

Soap nodded and then left Price’s office. He made his way straight to Ghost who was asleep now. One of the nurses smiled awkwardly.

“Gave him some drugs in his iv. Sedative and a painkiller.”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to sleep with a head wound?”

“Only when you first get them. He’ll be fine.” The nurse reassured. “You can sit with him as long as you want.” She took her leave and he settled next to Ghost again.

Soap hesitated before leaving for just a moment to grab his sketching tools. With his sketchbook and pencils, he started to sketch him. He so rarely got him maskless like this. He drew him with a loving amount of detail, including each scar and fleck on his skin. It passed the time as he waited for him to wake up.

After a moment, he reached over carefully and felt under his shirt, feeling the raised ridges of his scarring. When he had seen it, Ghost had explained it had occurred while he was captivity one time. They had made him. He had looked so ashamed that Soap hadn’t pressed.

Ghost yawned and looked up at him sleepily. “You’re here again. You were gone a while.”

Soap frowned. “Wasn’t gone too long.”

Ghost frowned at him, not saying anything. He noticed the book and tilted his head.

“Just taking notes.” Soap answered the question before he asked. He smiled gently. “Sleep well?”

“This bed is better than the concrete floor.” Ghost answered smoothly, smiling a little. It felt like an odd attempt at being suave. Soap blinked and nodded.

“Are sure? These beds might as well be made of rocks.” Soap laughed a little, trying to study the smile on the his face. He looked younger. Small.

Ghost looked away. “Didn’t say it was that much better.” He was clearly smiling again but he didn’t let Soap see it. Instead, he stretched as much as he could while cuffed and winced. “Morphine? That’s new.”

“How did you know it was morphine?”

“I’ve had to use it once or twice. Doesn’t have much of an effect on me but it takes the edge off.” Simon relaxed back into the pillows. “I’m starting to think you’re a dream. You were gone a while.”

“How long was I gone?”

“I don’t know. Time is funny.” Simon waved him off.

“What is usually used?”

“Opioids. Benzos. Hallucinogens. You guys keep me hiiiiiiiigh as a kite.” Simon’s words started to sound funny and Soap wondered if they maybe gave him a touch too much morphine.

“Well, like I said, i’m here to keep you safe.”

“Liar. They were just torturing me.”

“I don’t think fixing your iv is torturing you. Or poking at your bandages.” Soap smiled indulgently.

“One of them cut me open and cut out parts of my liver.” Ghost looked at him and Soap felt his breath catch at the aching sincerity there. “He fed a piece to me. I’d really prefer if you didn’t say you’ll keep me safe. You’ll just waste your breath. I know when you leave, it’ll start again.”

Soap stared at him. It must’ve been while he was asleep that he dreamed this. He looked at Ghost’s chest, what little he could see. Ghost had a giant y-shaped scar across his entire torso.

Soap leaned over and touched his hand. “Are you okay?”

Simon stared at him before slowly relaxing. “I’m fine. It’s weird. I feel like I know you.”

“You do. You do know me.”

“No, I don’t.” Simon pleaded. “I don’t know you.��

“Yes, you do, Ghost.”

“I’m not dead.” Simon said coldly. “I’m not dead. You can’t convince me I’m dead.”

“You’re right. You’re not dead. You’re right here with me.” Soap reassured, reaching up and gently tracing his jaw. Simon looked distressed.

“Stop it. Stop it.”

“What do you want me to stop doing?”

“You’re in my head. You’re messing with me.”

“No, I’m not. I promise you’re safe. I’m not going to leave again.” Soap comforted him until Simon weakly shook his head and dropped his head onto the pillow.

“Please...” Simon mumbled, staring up at him. “Please, I don’t want them to go back to the rainbow room. I don’t want the Lady.”

“No one is going to, Simon. I promise. Why don’t you go back to sleep? Aren’t you tired?”

Simon hummed, clearly fighting sleep. He did so for a while before giving in.

Soap took a deep breath and settled back down. His hands were shaking. After a moment of consideration, he messaged Price to update him, telling him that Simon woke up for a while before going back to sleep.

Before long, Soap ended up falling asleep in his chair, focusing on the steady beat of Ghost’s heart monitor.

Screaming. It shocked him awake and he jerked up, watching Simon writhe and scream as loud as he could.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.” Simon mumbled between ear shattering wails.

Price and Gaz were suddenly there, both just as panicked as Soap was. They tried to hold him down and watched as he thrashed, yanking so hard on his restraints that for a moment Soap wondered if his wrist would snap.

Then, his wrist snapped.

Simon choked out, sounding so angry. “You promised. You promised you wouldn’t leave. There’s so much blood.”

Price grabbed Simon’s shoulders, pinning him down. “There is no blood. You’re safe.”

“it hurts it hurts so much. I don’t want it. I don’t want them.”

“I know, Simon. i know it hurts.” Price reassured. “You hurt yourself.”

“You bastards hurt me.” Simon hissed at him, but he was shaking so hard now. They were all trying to hold him down as much as they could. “Please. Please.” He begged, pleaded with Price to make it stop.

Price just stared at him, holding his shoulders down. He looked so helpless that Soap felt sick.

“I know, son. I’m so sorry.”

“He promised. He promised he wouldn’t leave.”

“I didn’t leave.” Soap said softly, though he was looking at Price. “I think he’s dreaming through his memories. Said something about me being gone a long time earlier.”

“Shit. Can’t really protect him from that.” Gaz said softly as Simon finally stopped struggling, staring at the roof.

“Who’s the Lady?”

“Pilar. Her name was Pilar. She can do things with her hips that men would kill for.” Simon mumbled and it sounded like he was quoting someone. He eventually closed his eyes. “I don’t want her.”

Soap felt like he was going to be sick. He traced the Glasgow smile on Simon’s face, despite Price’s alarmed look. “I’m sorry.”

“You left.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Soap decided. “How long was I gone?”

“It’s been... I don’t know. I think its been a month since we first met. It’s so hard. Time runs together.”

Soap bit his lip, feeling a hole digging in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make sure when you see me, it’s nice.”

“Fuck you.” Simon eventually coughed out and then just fell back against the bed. “Fucking hell.” He tried to curl away from their hands but it didn’t work. Ghost continued to shake for a while and they retracted their hands.

Gaz sighed shakily. “Is he... okay?”

“Go back to bed, Kyle.” Price smiled. “We’ll watch him.”

Gaz nodded and quietly stepped back. He left them alone.

Price shook his head. “Simon. Roba is dead.”

“No, he’s not. I see him. He’s there when I close my eyes.”

“Simon...” Price said softly. “This all happened a very long time ago.”

“Except it didn’t.” Soap pointed out. “To him, it feels like its right now. He’s currently going through it and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

Small tag list of people who asked for pt 2 @sad-innit @confuseddipshit @lildoodlenoodle @imfeelingdizzy @robo-hips @cactusisconfused

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

303 notes · View notes

rezzyromance · 3 years

Note

can i request a heisenburg x reader where they take a shower together and it starts getting freaky B) idk if im aloud to add kinks but maybe praise :D

This one was written from the heart.

(CW: Sex +18)

Once again, I've written this story with a gender neutral reader until it gets to the sexual part. I am not experienced in writing any sexual scenarios for gender neutral people or people with penises. I'm very sorry for this and hope you enjoy the story anyway. "I'm not going to ask again, Karl. Will you please take a shower?" You've been pushing Karl for the last 30 minutes to take a shower. It had been so long since he took a break from his work to actually take care of himself. It worried you, so you'd often try to take care of him here and there without getting on his nerves. But now, he's being relentless and stubborn. "For the last time, (Y/N) I don't have time to shower." His tone was aggressive as he refused to look away from his work to face you. "When's the last time you change your clothes? You sweat so much during some of the shit you do to these robots, or whatever they are." "It'll all just get dirty again, so what's the point of cleaning anything?" His gross words made you shiver. You loved him, but the man had nearly no concept of personal hygiene sometimes. A small part of him did care a little bit. He didn't want you to see him as gross. He's never had someone who he's felt the need to impress or look good for until you came along. But still, his work mattered so much to him that he casted hygiene to the side more often than you'd both like to admit. "What if I joined you?" You ask. He froze in his place, nearly choking on his own tongue. But he was quick to regain his composure. He looked over at you from the chair he was sitting in. You couldn't tell due to him wearing his sunglasses, but his eyes were scanning every little detail of your face. "Well?" You cross your arms and stare at him waiting for a response. He inhaled through his nose and tried to cover his excitement with a false sense of aggravation. "Fine. As long as it gets you to shut up." He rises from his chair and you can't help but smile knowing you won the argument. "Leave your coat, hat, and gloves here. We'll clean those later." "Yeah yeah whatever." You excitedly make your way to the bathroom. You set the shower temperature to a comfortable level of heat. The room began to fill with steam. Karl stood against the wall with his arms crossed, still wanting to seem reluctant even though he already agreed to the shower. "Alright. Water's ready. Now strip." You demand with a cheeky smile. "You first." "Sorry, can't do that. I wanna make sure you actually get in the shower before I do so you can't run." This makes him roll his eyes. But, once he's done pouting he begins to remove his shirt. You do the same, hoping it will coax him into continuing. Once his shirt is off he throws it to the side and smiles once he notices you stripping as well. It doesn't take long for you both to be completely unclothed.

He pulls back the shower curtain and steps inside. "Ah! Son of a bitch! Why's the water so hot?!" he yells out and begins to twist the metal shower knobs with his powers. "I didn't make it THAT hot." You step inside and feel a shiver crawl up your skin. "Now it's too cold." You complain. "You are not making this easy, are you?" He turns the knob to warmer. As uncomfortable as it was for him before, he didn't want to hear you fuss more than you already were. "That's better." You smile and relax as the water covers your body.

You stood there for a while, just enjoying the feeling of the heat around you. For a second, you zoned out. The whole time he stood there staring at you. Seeing you so happy and at peace made his insides start to feel as hot as the water that bounced and ran down his skin. All of his own discomfort fled as he watching, lovingly, at the smile growing on your face. Your eyes began to flutter open and he quickly looked away, not wanting it to be obvious that he was staring. But, you could tell from his flushed face and wandering eyes that he had been watching you.

You had placed 2 wash clothes on the side of the tub. You bent over to grab them and again he can't help but stare. This time, his feelings are a little less innocent as he gazes upon your body in a position that drives his mind wild. "Here's a wash cloth." You rise up and turn to hand him one. His body was closer to yours than it was just a few seconds ago, but you didn't mind. "Thanks." His voice was rough and low, almost as if he spoke in a growl. You supply both rags with soap and begin to rub down your body as he does the same.

You sit back for a moment, not really putting in much effort into cleansing yourself as you were too distracted by the sight in front of you. The way his silver hair stretched and clung to his face as the water weighed it down drove you mad. The way the water trickles off his muscular arms and powerful body absolutely hypnotized you. "Having fun there, (Y/N)?" You look up from his chest to his eyes. "Sure am. And you?" You use the cloth that you were previously bathing yourself with and begin to rub across his chest. "I'm fine, but I can bathe myself." He jokes. "Are you sure about that? It looks like you missed a spot." You point to a random area on his chest. "What? Where?" He looks down to where you were pointing and you take the opportunity to place an unexpected kiss on his lips. The initial shock causes him to almost pull away at first, but he soon pushes into the kiss, making it more passionate.

Your back was now pushed against the wall as you both continued your heated kiss. He was first to slip in tongue and you followed, ignoring any drool that leaked from your mouth as it only blended in with the shower water. His hands were gripped tightly to your hips. He begins to bring his body closer to yours. You can feel something poking you before the rest of his body makes contact which causes you to smile against his lips.

You place a hand on his wet chest and slowly make your way lower and lower until you can feel the light scratchiness of his pubes. he nibbles lightly on your bottom lip, signaling for you to go even further. You follow through and reach down you grasp his hardened penis. He inhales sharply and you begin to rub it back and forth, teasing him with your soft touches. He grunted quietly and tightened his grip on your hips, digging his fingers in slightly. You whimper and wrap your fingers around his cock as you begin to jerk him off. "Fuck yeah. Just like that." He groans in your ear before placing scattered kisses on your neck. You use your free hand to reach up and tangle your fingers in his wet locks. He begins to bite down on the more tender spots on your soft neck, leaving marks all over.

After more and more stroking, he grabs your wrist and pulls it away from his crotch. "Do you want me?" He says in a husky voice directly into your ear. "Mhm." You try to not moan as you feel his hand rub down your stomach and making its way in between your legs. "Say it. Say you want me." He demands. "I want you." You gasp lightly as his fingers begin to play with you between your legs. Your knees come together and he uses one of his hands to move them apart. You wrap your arms around his neck, using him as support as your legs shake beneath you. His rough and calloused fingers toy with your clit, causing you to dig your nails into his back. This causes him to inhale through his gritted teeth, but he didn't mind.

After almost rubbing you to completion, he pulls away to torment you some more. You let out a dissatisfied groan as his hand pulls away. His smirk was as egotistical as ever. "What's wrong? You want a little more?" He places his hands on the wall with your body in-between them. He slowly began to bring his body closer to yours, trapping you against the wall. His hard dick was between your legs and resting eagerly against your pussy. He slowly rocked his body, moving his dick across your needy region. He stared into your eyes and watched the agitation grow stronger. "Having any regrets about this yet?" He holds in a chuckle. "No. But if you don't fuck me stupid then I might." "Is that an invitation?" He leans in more and places a hand on the side of your face, cupping it while his thumb played with your bottom lip. You open your mouth and lead the tip of his thumb in before slowly biting now. You didn't bite hard at all, just enough to make him pull his dick away from you and begin to position it for entry. "I'll take that as a yes, Buttercup."

With his thumb still in your mouth, he pushes the first few inches of his dick in. Your breath hitches and you accidentally bite down harder. "Bite any harder and I'll leave right now." He threatens. You immediately loosen your jaw and begin to suck lightly as he pushes more of himself into you. You moan and he pulls his thumb out but continues to hold your face in his hand as he slowly rocks his hips, giving you a little time to adjust. But, it was only a little bit of time. Once your body loosened a little bit he began to thrust. in and out, holding into your waist to keep you from slipping. The sound of wet skin slapping filled the room along with overwhelmed moans that you couldn't keep quiet.

A few grunts left his gritted teeth as he pounded into you relentlessly. "C'mere" He grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from the wall and turned you so your back is facing him. He bends you over and places one of his hands underneath your stomach to provide you for support. You felt as his tip wandered around in between your legs before finding your vagina again. Once he filled you up with his dick again, he began to pound into you even harder. Both of his hands gripped tightly on each side of your waist as he pulled your entire body into him with each pound.

You felt like you could feel it in your stomach. His dick was harder than ever and you swore you could feel it throbbing and twitching inside of you. Your vision was blurred from the sheer amount of overwhelming pleasure so you closed your eyes. Your moans had become quiet little whimpers that were pushed out of you with each thrust. You feel his hand make its way through your hair as he grips a handful of it and pulls your head back slightly. "Fuck yes (Y/N).." He moans as your body limply swings against his pounding. You could feel a burning feeling growing between your legs. Your climax was near and you wanted so badly to finish. He could tell by the way your legs were trembling that you were close.

He reaches one of his hands between your legs and feels for the clit as he continued to slam into you. A loud moan escaping from your lips helped him navigate to eventually finding your sweet spot. So now he was drilling into you while also destroying your clit. You shut your eyes tight and let loose all of the swears, grunts, and moans you were holding back. His climax was approaching as well. You could hear him grunting and swearing louder and louder, occasionally saying your name. "Karl! Karl I'm gonna cum!" You cry out. He doesn't change his pace until he feels you release onto him. Your body goes completely limp as your vagina floods with your orgasm. You couldn't feel your body and your brain felt foggy.

He still had an orgasm to reach, though. So, he pulled out and made sure to keep a tight grip on you to make sure you don't collapse. You followed the motion of his movements as he turned you around and put his lips to yours as he stroked his cock. The kiss was messy, but loving. He stopped jerking himself off and grabbed you by the waist again. "Wrap your legs around me." He says. You nod, too dazed to give a verbal response. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist. You also wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head against him as he sticks his dick in you again. You give no protest and close your eyes as he pounds in and out into your comfortable body that engulfed him. While you were quiet, he could still hear you moaning under your breath. He bounced your body up and down, kissing you over and over again. Once he knew his orgasm was rising, he pulled you off and came, letting it drip down his shaft and onto the wet shower floor. You were both breathless but gained a sense of comfort from feeling each others chests rise and fall.

"So," He spoke in between small gasps. "I might need to shower with you more often." You laughed softly into his shoulder, too tired to give any real reaction. He twisted the knob to the shower off with his powers. His hands never left your body as he held you against him. "Here. Sit." He sits you down on the side of the tub and grabs a towel. He softly began to rub your wet hair, attempting to dry it while you rested. You stared into his eyes as he did so. They had their usual sharpness to them, but something about him in this moment was so much more tender than his usual self. You didn't complain though. When he was done, you took the towel from him and returned the favor by drying his hair. He closed his eyes and relaxed against your gentle touch. Once you finished, you placed a kiss on his nose that immediately created a smile on his face.

"How about we go relax a little more before I get back to work." He offers. "I'd like that." You respond quietly. He wraps a towel around his waist and then wraps a towel around you before picking you up bridal style and carrying you back to the bedroom. There, you both curled up against each other and fell asleep.

#re8 #resident evil village #heisenberg x reader #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg headcanons #karl heisenberg headcanon #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenburg x reader

320 notes · View notes

ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

jj and the untimely prank

summary: when a prank goes awry, jj’s at the receiving end of cruel intentions with a euphoric payoff.

warnings: this is just sm*t i’m sorry.

notes: forgive me father, for i have sinned. also i know i said no requests but i couldn’t just leave this one out. based on the request below. tried my best w no typos. also i’ve come to the conclusion that my taglist is too long because it took me fifteen minutes to add everyone but i have no idea what to do lmao.

It was supposed to be a joke.

Rafe Cameron’s end of the summer party began once the sun’s horizon began to emit an orange glow over the Cameron residence. Ward and Rose left for California that morning; the siblings had protested accompanying the two on their vacation after claiming there would be nothing for them to do and Ward had reluctantly let them stay home on the promise that they would behave themselves. Wheezie stayed at a friend’s for the week while Rafe and Sarah shared the house.

However, Rafe had planned to use his empty home to throw a party for residents of Figure Eight, complete with expensive alcohol and loud music that would make any neighbor complain. Sarah begged her brother to let her friend group attend the party, claiming that she’d “die of boredom” if she were to attend the party alone. Reluctantly, Rafe agreed after Sarah promised to talk Ward out of punishing Rafe for neglecting to pick up air canisters.

Rafe, knowing Sarah’s friends and Pope in particular were going to be at the party, crushed a pill of Viagra and dared Topper to mix the pretty blue powered into Pope’s drink. The boy looked innocent enough and both Kooks were eager to see how he’d deal with his problem by keeping tabs on him the entire night.

Only, JJ was the one to drink from the cup Topper tampered with.

The boys tried not to spend too much time ogling at Pope but noticed something was wrong when he was talking to Kelce with a calm demeanor like nothing was wrong and before the Kooks decided to give up, they thought of everything possible scenario of what happened to the cup. After losing interest upon the girls and drugs at the party, neither of them cared enough to follow up on their prank.

JJ was fine for the next thirty minutes but felt so hot and bothered by the time he downed three more shots. He couldn’t think straight and he knew it wasn’t because of the alcohol. A girl had bumped into him by accident, causing him to push against the side of the kitchen’s countertop and he had to hold in a moan as he felt his ever growing cock release some tension. His fingers gripped the edge of the marble and he gritted his teeth, finally acknowledging how hard his cock had gotten.

JJ needed to excuse himself to the bathroom upon seeing your short and tight cheetah print dress that accentuated your natural features, pushing your breasts to the point where they were spilling out of the fabric. He wasn’t sure why, all of the sudden, he felt like his pants were growing tighter as the night progressed. Seeing you walk into the party fashionably late and greeting people he knew while not sparing them a second glance had him wondering if you would look in his direction.

Kiara had walked up to you after having recognized you from your updo and made the bold move to greet you with a gentle hug, avoiding the crowded room of bodies in the process. You grinned at the girl and returned her embrace, careful not to spill the liquid in your cup. JJ could see the way your dress slid up your thighs when you tried to move around the room, periodically pulling the fabric down to cover yourself modestly. It was then when JJ decided he needed to remove himself from the party and relieve himself.

He rushed himself to the nearest empty bathroom and hastily closed the door behind him, fumbling with the lock as his mind thought about his impending problem below his belt. When he looked down, he could see his impressive size grow against his jeans, groaning when he put his hand over his member to relieve some tension.

JJ didn’t know why he had become extremely hard over the course of the night. Of all the times he had imagined talking to you, properly, for the first time, he never imagined he’d be hard while doing it. For a brief moment, he felt guilty for leaving Kiara alone at the party after Pope had struck up a conversation with Kelce while Sarah and John B. had found their own corner in her home. But his apparent hard-on and the fact that he couldn’t walk without feeling himself against his jeans was a bigger problem.

The blond wasted no time unzipping himself and pushed his hands down his boxers to grab himself, biting his lip at the sudden tension that his hand was providing. His thumb stroked his tip and he felt his teeth bite harder on his bottom lip at how euphoric it felt.

His back was pressed against the door as he felt his legs give out, using the frame as a temporary support system as he pushed his jeans and boxers down his legs to allow himself more freedom. When JJ looked down, he witnessed how hard he had grown in a short amount of time and spit into his hands, using his hips to push himself forward while keeping his hand steady, mimicking his thoughts about fucking you into the nearest mattress.

If JJ was being honest with himself, he was using you and the image of your dress sliding up your thigh as his masturbation material. His impending problem seemed to expose itself once he saw you at the party despite feeling strange an hour beforehand. JJ looked at himself in the bathroom’s mirror and saw how fast he was thrusting his hips, realizing he was panting as if he were taking you over the bathroom counter.

He halted his movements to see the precum that leaked from his tip and groaned, not caring about his volume once he realized the sound of the music from the party was louder than he was. His mouth hung ajar as his breaths became erratic and JJ was determined to make his problem disappear quickly, trying his best to avoid an embarrassing situation if Kiara asked him why he was in the bathroom for so long.

JJ moved his hand faster and gritted his teeth, short breaths escaping from his lips as he desperately chased his high. He shut his eyes and let out pretty moans as he jerked his body forward and used his balance as leverage to thrust at a faster pace. JJ squeezed his cock tighter and pretended it was your tight pussy around him instead.

He kept his eyes closed as he let out a deep groan, his chest rising and falling rapidly. JJ could feel himself orgasm quickly and his thick, white ropes fell onto his hand as he finished himself off, opening his eyes to watch as he emptied himself in his enemy’s bathroom. JJ chuckled to himself when he caught his breath and stared at his messy hand, moving quickly to the sink to wash his hands off with soap and water before slowing his breathing down.

But when he looked at the mirror and back to his cock, he could see that his problem hadn’t disappeared. JJ’s cock was still standing in attention, still as hard and thick as before he had made himself orgasm for the first time. He groaned once out of frustration, finding it ironic that he hadn’t been able to make himself come when he was alone but he was experiencing this problem in the presence of strangers. JJ knew it was because you arrived the moment he needed to release the most.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” JJ said in a hushed whisper, almost like he was afraid of being caught despite the bathroom door being closed.

JJ grew frustrated at his impending problem and the throbbing sensation he felt in his lower region when he attempted to wait it out, keeping his breathing steady to fix the situation. But after a few moments of trying to calm his beating heart and think about anything other than what you’d look like with your dress on the floor as he hovered above your body, JJ knew nothing he did would work.

“Shit,” he hissed as he put his hand back on himself, somewhere in between pumping himself in a quick pace and trying to enjoy himself. JJ wanted to step out of the bathroom without an incredibly noticeable hard-on, which prompted him to move his hand back and forth quicker and faster.

He looked at himself in the mirror as his mouth hung open, throwing his head back when he let out a particularly loud hum. The euphoric feeling of using his hand to tug on his cock while simultaneously thinking about the view of you on your knees while you looked up at through your eyelashes was material he’d been using for weeks and it didn’t slow him down this time.

You were someone JJ had trouble talking to despite being a fellow Pogue. You had a good head on your shoulders and both the Pogues and Kooks knew it. You drifted between both sides of the island without a care for the war between classes and freely roamed the grounds as if you owned the place, both groups letting you without hesitation. JJ’s knees would buckle when you walked near him and he would grow quiet whenever you’d approach his friends to speak to Kiara, who you’d known since childhood. He knew his attraction to you was because of your nonchalance and intelligence, but he had an inkling feeling you’d choose him over Rafe, and that was enough for JJ to feel himself close to spilling onto his hand once more.

But before he got the chance to experience another orgasm, the bathroom door opened.

JJ immediately opened his eyes and saw your figure in the doorframe, one hand on the wall as you steadied yourself upon stumbling when you saw JJ. His hand froze on his cock and he could feel his heart pounding in embarrassment while his member throbbed at the loss of his hand.

He watched as your eyes widened when you realized what you were looking at. JJ awkwardly looked down at himself when he realized his cock was still standing at attention in his hand, rapidly moving to pull his boxers and jeans up hastily to cover himself upon feeling his cheeks turn a shade of red from the embarrassment of being caught.

“You’re so big,” you said in complete surprise, looking as JJ fumbled to zip his pants. He tried to keep himself busy, tucking his shirts into his jeans while feeling your gaze on him. But he looked up at your words and watched you with a curious expression.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, not knowing what to say after your observation and upon being caught with his cock in his hand. He stood by the mirror, shifting from one foot to the other almost as if he was unable to move.

JJ felt embarrassed because he was caught by the person he was infatuated by. You were always the subject of his daydreams and this situation was not an exception. He felt embarrassed because hebthought about you naked on the nearest mattress mere seconds ago and it was almost as if on cue you had walked in on him.

But you shook your head, biting your lip in a sultry manner, taking a step towards him as you slowly closed the door behind you with a subtle sound. JJ watched as your body moved in your dress and before he realized it, you were standing mere inches from him. His blue eyes looked into your own with curiosity and anticipation, feeling your hands gently move themselves from the top of his chest to his belt loops, gently tugging on them.

“Let me help you,” you said in a hushed whisper. JJ wasn’t sure if he was imagining the desperation in your voice but he had imagined looking down at you as you sucked his cock more than he could count, and he knew he’d regret it if he denied himself this opportunity, especially because you were giving your consent.

JJ felt your nimble hands over his clothed chest, your fingers lightly scratching him as he felt his body shudder from excitement. He watched as your body swayed back and forth as you waited for his answer, moving closer to him to the point where you were present against him. You moved your hands from his chest to the side of his thoughts, your hands moving everywhere but the place he needed you most.

“Please,” he said, nodding.

You said nothing as you looked up at him through your tasteful false lashes and pushed your body against his. JJ felt your lips on his neck, closing his eyes as he sighed at the glorious sensation of your lips on him while your hand was on his cock. He could feel your hand move against him, gauging his size for yourself and he felt you moan against his neck.

You could barely keep yourself poised, feeling your mouth water upon feeling his impressive size for yourself. JJ’s body rested against the bathroom counter and you removed your hands from him, causing JJ to temporarily groan at the loss of contact before he felt your hands around his wrists, forcefully placing them on your backside before returning to his cock. His eyes widened with surprise and he wasted no time touching you, squeezing your cheeks.

JJ kneaded you’re backside as your hands moved to unzip his jeans, pushing his jeans down along with his boxers. You felt his cock that was still set from orgasming the first time mixed with his own spit and bit your lip when you felt his hands roam around the fabric of your dress. You encouraged him to continue with a short nod, closing your eyes as your hand moved to work his cock. JJ seemed to get the hint and you felt his hands move to the hem of your dress, sliding them underneath.

He could barely believe he was touching you in his reality rather than his daydreams and took the time to appreciate your skimpy thong, using his fingers to move it to your entrance. You moaned once and debated on letting him touch you further before deciding against it, hiking your dress above your waist before positioning yourself on your knees in a feverish manner.

Your lips caught the tip of his cock in your mouth and JJ used his hands to prop himself on the bathroom counter in an attempt to keep steady. He looked down at you while your hands wrapped themselves the base while your mouth engulfed the rest. JJ couldn’t help himself and pushed his hips forward but you were more than ready for his sudden action and opened your mouth wider, welcoming his size as you gagged in his cock.

You temporarily removed your mouth from him to stroke his member with the string of spit as a result of your previous action and JJ moaned at the feeling of your hand instead of his. You kissed the tip gingerly before licking the side of the shaft with your flattened tongue and JJ felt like he was about to come again.

When JJ watched you move your hand from him to between your thighs, he placed both of his hands to the back of your head. He witnessed as your hands moved underneath the small black cloth that hid nothing, furiously moving your hand to gain friction. JJ could help it; he gripped the back of your head and pushed his hips towards your mouth. You accommodated, widening your mouth and breathed through your nose as you felt his cock thrusted past your lips. He looked down and watched as he disappeared inside of you, feeling your tongue against his underside and came with a loud moan, not bothering to care if anyone outside heard him. JJ fucked your mouth and you let him.

When he pulled out, JJ watched his come spill out from between your lips and you opened your mouth to show him the remnants of all you couldn’t swallow the first time. Your hand moved to chin, cleaning his come and putting your fingers into your mouth as you tasted him. JJ breathed heavily and watched as you, so willingly, continued to touch yourself in front of him.

“You’re still hard,” you said with a pant and a high-pitched voice, closing your eyes temporarily as you inserted a finger inside of you. JJ wasn’t having it, however, and bent down to kiss you. He bent down and replaced your fingers with his own, moaning against you when he realized just how wet and slick you were. JJ was able to slip his middle finger into you and push himself deeper into.

“Let’s find a room upstairs,” JJ said in desperation.

He rose from his position and watched you did the same, his eyes following your hands that smoothed your dress over your cheeks. When you caught his gaze from the mirror, you winked and pushed your breasts together for emphasis, making JJ physically groan and adjust his apparent cock in his pants.

You held his hand and led him upstairs, avoiding the people standing in the hallway, too turned on to care if anyone could guess what the both of you would be doing. JJ opened a door and upon seeing it pictureless, he ducked inside and closed the door shut, locking it before returning his attention to you.

Your dress was thrown on the floor by the time JJ turned around and he rubbed his jaw, looking at how perky your nipples were against the cold air. His hands reached for your waist and pulled you into a hot, wet, searing kiss before turning you around to press you against the wooden door.

“So wet,” he said as he reached in front of you, his hands disappearing into your thong that left nothing to the imagination. He furiously moved his hands in circles and heard you whimpered, not caring about anyone who passed by and if they could head. JJ took this opportunity to undo the zipper of his jeans and push them down to his ankles followed by his boxers and moaned at the sight of his hardness against the backdrop of your ass and pressed himself against you.

JJ could hear you gasp at the sudden feeling but upon seeing your back arch in an attempt to move him where you needed him the most, JJ kept your hips steady with his hands as he thrusted against you, spreading your ass cheeks to watch as his cock worked your backside until you were begging for him to be inside of you. He watched as you tried to spread your legs while your chest was pressed against the door and bent his knees so that his cock was in between your thighs, throwing his head back at the glorious feeling of the fabric of your thong against his cock.

He pulled away and turned you around, smacking your backside before pointing to the bed. You looked at him as you climbed onto it, removing your thong in the process. He watched as you spread your legs and teased your folds, stripping from the rest of his clothing save for the gold chain around his neck.

JJ wasted no time and attached his mouth to your pussy, licking a delicious stripe against your slit. Your hands found themselves tangled in his hair and when JJ felt your hips rock against his tongue and your hands pulling at his roots, he could help but grind against the white bedsheets underneath him, moaning into your core with such pleasure. Your legs were spread far and wide into the air when you felt him moan against you and JJ, at the sound of a particularly loud moan, lifted his head to see your euphoric state.

He smirked and lifted his hand, smacking your core while relishing the sound of how wet you were. Your eyes widened and you begged for him to do it again. JJ wasn’t shy that night and did as he was told, bringing the tips of his fingers over your pussy, giving gentle slaps until you were begging for his cock to be inside of you.

You grabbed the gold chain and pulled him to meet your lips, tongue sliding into his mouth as he used his fingers to move to your pussy once again, letting his index and middle finger enter you with the rush of adrenaline. You knew you were close to your first orgasm between his mouth and his fingers, and you warned him about your inevitable orgasm against his lips. The sound of your wetness and his fingers echoed throughout the room, as did your cries.

When JJ pulled his hand out of you, he didn’t think about letting you recover and neither did you. You ached for it and so did JJ; he sat back on his knees and tugged on his cock a few times before pushing the head inside of you. You felt the euphoric feeling of his cock and begged for more until JJ gave in, pushing everything he had to offer inside of you.

But JJ was going to have fun with you. You had begged him to use you for his own gain moments prior and he had no reluctance. His elbows were situated beside your head and the tip of his tongue stuck out as he pulled himself out of you, barely touching your entrance with his tip. You whined, wrapping your arms around him while trying to get him to move, but he shook his head and laughed at your attempt.

He sunk inside of you once again and heard your delicious scream before pulling out of you altogether for the second time. JJ repeated this action four more times until you pulled him down by the gold chain, catching him by surprise. But he welcomed this distraction. His cock pounded your pussy furiously until the only sounds in the room were your wetness being spread between your pelvis and his, your high-pitched screaming as you begged JJ to fuck you harder, and JJ’s loud grunts that sounded so primal and needy.

The headboard wasn’t too far above his body and he gripped the edge, steadying himself as he kept a steady pace while thrusting into you. The wooden headboard smacked against the wall with a prominent sound and JJ smirked down at you, urging you to be as loud as you can if you wanted his cock to keep fucking you.

You could feel the mattress below you act like ocean waves as the bedsheet kept moving across the bare skin of your thighs. Your arms gripped onto JJ’s body like you’d fall off of the bed if you didn’t and he responded by pounding into you harder, faster, and rougher.

JJ pulled out of you and moved your body so that your chest was pressed against the mattress. He backed away enough to bend down and move his face to your core, furiously moving his tongue against you before replacing it with his cock. JJ gripped your hips and threw his head back at the sight of your ass against his pelvis and dug his fingertips into your skin, almost like he was afraid you’d leave. He raised his palm and slapped your ass cheek, to which you moaned for more.

“I’m gonna fuck you into tomorrow,” he promised, delivering another slap. “Gonna make sure to fuck you in front of a window next time so everyone can see how badly you want it.”

“JJ,” you called, out of breath.

“Wanna make sure I fuck your tits before I die,” he said with his eyes shut. “‘M gonna come.”

“In my pussy,” you begged.

JJ moaned loudly and grunted, pulling your ass closer to him as he released. You arched your back at the feeling and he moved his hands to your clit, roughly moving his fingers against your sensitive area. He pulled out of you and turned you onto your back, pulling you until you were nearly off of the edge of the bed and wordlessly slipped his cock back into your wet centre, pushing your legs against your chest for a deeper angle.

His cock was buried so deep inside of you that you could hear sirens in your head and see a halo above JJ. His fingers moved to your clit and deliciously moved at a pace that brought you closer to your orgasm. JJ almost wished someone would walk in just so they could see how high up in the air your legs were and how loudly you were moaning, all because of his cock.

His chest was hot with passion and he moaned after thrusting into you particularly hard, his deep voice bringing you your second orgasm. JJ felt your come on the tip of his cock and pulled out to watch white pearls drip from your entrance before using his tip to gather the remnants, awing at the wetness of your skin.

“I could live in your pussy,” he moaned breathing as his hand moved back and forth on his cock. He could feel his cool chain against his neck and JJ stepped back to witness the mess he made on your body and how utterly fucked you looked on the bed in front of him.

“I need another,” you whined, stepping off of the bed to walk towards him. You could feel your juiced on your inner thigh and replaced JJ’s hand with your own. “God, are you always this hard when you fuck?”

JJ laughed in a mocking tone and gripped your jaw with his hands, watching your wet lips scrunch together. Your eyes widened and you gripped his cock tighter at the sudden feeling, sending a wave of pleasure over JJ’s body. You knew what you were doing to him and he wasn’t about to let you out of this room until he came for fourth and final time.

“Only when I fuck you,” he gruned, his free hand teasing your nipple.

“You gonna fuck me some more?” you asked innocently as JJ loosened the grip on your jaw.

“When we fuck, I’ll always give you whatever you want,” he said, pushing your body against the wall and slipping into your wet center with ease. You yelped and widened your legs and JJ shut his eyes as you clenched around him. “Wanna come in you until you’re silly with it.”

“I wanna feel it,” you whined, arching your back so that you had room to bring your hand to your entrance, toying with your clit. He placed a harsh slap to your asscheek and you groaned with pleasure.

“You like my cock, huh?” he asked.

“I fucking crave it,” you replied with squinted eyes as he delivered another slap. JJ smiled to himself at how dirty your words were, especially after knowing you to be some innocent saint before tonight. While he never knew if you had any sexual tendencies or bothered to catch up with your dating life, he’d imagine you to be under his undoing; JJ wanted to be the first person that came inside of you and the first person to hear you moan. He knew that his fantasy didn’t matter compared to your reality, but in that moment, all he cared about was delivering another mind blowing orgasm to your pussy.

JJ pulled you by the elbows until you were looking at him and gripped your breasts, using your body for balance as his cock relentlessly pounded into you, so much that you screamed in euphoria. He gently pushed you off of him and commanded your body back on the bed, feeling himself on the edge of, what he hoped, would be his final orgasm. But he wouldn’t complain about giving you another creampie if you asked for it.

JJ’s pelvis met yours repeatedly and your legs were bent, high in the air. His hands were on either side of you as he thrusted into you as he came alongside you, both of your orgasms spilling past his cock and out of your pussy onto the bed below the both of you. JJ kept fucking you despite being nearly empty and relished the tight feeling of your pussy clenching around his cock until he couldn’t, opting you lay his chest on top of yours and kisses your open mouth like he needed to.

His cock was still inside of you as you both tried to reach a tranquil state and his lips moved to your neck, peppering sweet kisses. JJ wanted to relish in the feeling of your nakedness and continued to kiss your lips with vigor. He pulled away when both of you regained your breaths and stroked the side of your head, moving your hair away from your face.

“I’ve never been fucked for so hard or so long,” you confessed with a shy smile, your face red from blushing and how hard you had been fucked.

“I think someone put something into my drink,” JJ said with an amused laugh. “I’ve been hard for a long ass time.” You looked around the clock on the nightstand beside you and opened your mouth i’m surprise.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. JJ raised an eyebrow before looking in your direction. “We’ve been fucking for hours. The party’s probably coming to an end.”

JJ looked back at you as you spoke and jerked his cock deeper into you, to which you licked your lips and shut your eyes. He laughed and touched your cheek with the pad of his thumb, wiping away fallen mascara before leaving a soft kiss pressed against your nose.

“I don’t even know how you’re still hard,” you said. He shrugged.

“Me either, but I’m not exactly complaining.”

“Neither am I,” you said as you bit your bottom lip.

“Oh yeah?” JJ said as he thrusted into you twice more, watching as you breathed heavily and looked at him. “You fuck like a fucking champ.”

“And you fuck like your life depends on it.” JJ smoked and thrusted into you once more.

“Oh, look,” he said with in false surprise. “I’m still hard.”

“Oh, look,” you said, mocking him. “I’m still wet.”

“Mm,” he mumbled, sitting upright to watch his cock inside of you. JJ pulled himself out to the point where his head was sitting inside and you whined, reaching your hand to grip him and pull him inside of you. He tapped your knee twice and you reluctantly let go.

“We’re gonna fuck until Rafe kicks us out, got it?” JJ said. You nodded vigorously and JJ rewarded you by pushing himself into you, but not all the way. “Your pussy’s gonna be so used to my cock that it’ll be me you want to fuck.”

“Yes,” you breathed, feeling as he pushed into you more. But you were unsatisfied by JJ holding himself back.

“I’m gonna ruin that pretty pussy of yours tonight,” he said more to himself than to you while pushing himself inside.

“JJ,” you whined. “Please.”

“We’re gonna fuck and I don’t care if anyone walks in.”

JJ slid himself inside of you, fully, and gained a rhythm that caused you to pull JJ down to your body. His hips pushed against you as your hips lifted to meet his rhythm and all he wanted to do was fuck you until he couldn’t.

***

taglist:

@ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @simpingforrudypankowonly @cognacdelights @hi-my-name-is-riley @antoheartit @runway-to-my-aid @kayleypaige2233 @jroseron @mahleeyuh @deviouscharitos @wasabiwitteks @waywardbabie @parkerpetertingle @cheshirecat107 @ballerinafairyprincess @underratedmisfit @gardengirl-18 @thankfulfortimmy @voguesir @madzleigh01 @suhoey @yeslifeofateen @spn-marvel-nerd @outerbongs @cleverandwitty @scottish-sim @lonely--witch @thin-spiration-for-me @britnicole11 @ilovejjmaybank @goodgodimaweirdperson @beckester @louiesfineline @jamielinnsmith @asmallhobbitruinedmylife @whosxthat @ollyoxenfrees @thesadestsadperson @leilanixx @a-daydreamers-day @sofianunes10 @sleep-i-ness @shxwarmq @fandomngirl @nightxshadex201 @eternalqueensworld @shreckluver7 @fourfearsofdivergent @stfukie @lauren-sun13 @brithedemonspawn @abbiesthings @croissantpants @victorianvampirebf @elliesshitofablog @starkeysgirl @lover2448 @Scandalousfemale @marvelismylifffe @holland-styles @@alondra-melendez @void-sadie @1-800-kashootme @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @linniep @pogue-h @mfmaddyperez @sspidermanss @outerbankslove @bxbyyyjocelyn @jjsbxtch @rudethchalamet @srirachibi @shawnssongs @shoppingcarthappiness @calumbroutledge @jayjaymaebank @harrysbbby @copper-boom @cognacdelights @rudys-pankow @x-lulu @serrendipiity @storiesbymads @danicarosaline @allie-mcginn @thistreasurehunter @k-k0129 @annedub @urlocalbrochure @freeshavocadoooo @katiaw2 @ceestlaviemylove @wicked-laugh @kamcrazy123 @myrandom-fandomlife @clio-muse-of-histories @yeehaw87@rudypankow-whore @iichydobrik @jjtheangel @httpstarkey @peqchyharts @myhead-myuniverse @normatural @vindictive-hearts @Spycemilk @loveylangdon @mybrainiswhack @judayyyw @midnightmagicmusingsmain @jjsmaybitch @little-ms-awkward @obxmxybxnk @5am-cigarette @xinsonyax @gabbismith5 @heyitsmeimdead @fullpanicmode @girlsru1eboysdroo1 @o-b-x @iamaunicorn4704 @jj-maybabe @jjmaybangme @newhopenessie @the0uterbanks @llvinlavidaloca @ponyboys-sunsets @angvelics @lilpeekabooze @thatbloodymuggle @couldyouspeaklouder @apoguecalledjj @collectiveuniverses @starkeymarkey @goldenharryvol6 @teenwaywardasgardian @milamaybank @merchantjjreply @lustgardn @curlybrownhairedboys @booksandshish @ilymarkchan @ihatemyself21 @bailspogue @deathcompass @alternativehp @keepingupwiththepogues @kylosleftbuttcheek @stargazingstarkey @rafescameron @katrynec @ilovejjmaybank @teamnick @jjaybank @kiarascarreras @sunwardsss @fandomtravels @jeyramarie @honeybunchcalum @ughitslizz @sleepyhollands @adanielle8 @jeyramarie @paradigmax @whoseblogsthis @sweetlysilent @outerbanksbro @i-mmunity @extratragic @jjbaby @jj-bxby @jjmaybanksbaby @drewswannabegirl @letsgotothehop @sugarcoatedcalum @serious-killer @karleeluv @jj-baebank @secretmoonphantom @outerbankslut @obxsummer @poguesrforlife @broken-jj @sortagaysortahigh @erraaxh @haharudy @kimxft @rubjeffo @hannahrisacher @family-buisnes @king-ronnoc @sexytholland @28cnn @maraseavey @jurassicjosie @bolaurel @perfektionsmakel @masintahin @everyonesababe @rudysmaybank @koufaxx @broken-jj @catieiscute2001 @blueflame2778 @reconcilereid @anonymous0writer @secretlyablueunicorn @outerbankspogue @starlightstarkey @bolditalicwriter @pcterparxer @olsenholic @rottencoregirl @writingwieny @psg-for-life @hollandlovely @poguesinablanket @figure-pogue @kiarasmaybank @xloue @bellaguarneri @localfangirlx @perfect-ginger-maniac @truulovee @just-a-bitchybisexual @littlelillylollipop @pankowrudeth @jjandreidsgirl @caringparker @obx-saltlife @eternalangst @poguelifesurfshop @poguestyleskye @under-a-canyon-moon @hmspxgue @molsypops @niccsal @curlypunk @sleeplessreader12 @itsmederyn @thecurlsofgod @Allielozoya @b-groovyyy @blindedbyyourgrace17 @kt219567 @french-fries-bouquet @overly-b @hanistarsxx @thebookisbtr @wilddheartt @alytavzla @punkladymoes @hmspogueobx @brightcosmos @an-untamed-rose @addictofsupernatural @mediocrearistophanes @buckethatseason @laconic-eunoia @agentstarkid @sunflower-beauty @spideyvibez @meaganjm @yourstrulyzerotwo @r0s3mm @floretsoleil @flowersinvegas @unknown-user84 @ethereallust @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @unfortunatekiwitrash @kayleea122 @mynmuses @trashmouthpogues @natalie-kate-98 @maraudersandco @millssssonline @vaswn @lindysti @casper17 @Babyybesson @itsagurl @everyonesababe @kaitieskidmore1 @aesthetic-lyssa @crispywolftreeflower @yesp0ny @broken-jj @beth-winchester21 @diverdcwn @cozyshawn @pcterparxer @comphersjost @bbygrlsyd @lovelynerdytraveler @obbx-tings @m-a-d-e-l-i-n-e-e @curlybrownhairedboys @jjshands @rachelfizzyhizzy @outsider-at-hogwarts @Magcongirl52 @drewsstarkey @chocolaeth @damnobx @hoeforshows @lemur46 @honestlywtfisgoingon @beth-winchester21 @bruhjustdont @iknowwhatihavefound @jillianwritesstories @sleepyhollands @etherealtony @sofianunes10 @slytherinquill @invocacao-dos-unicornios @coloradogirl07 @no-shxt-sherl @maybankobx @jjmaybankg @itsallblueblackwhereimfrom @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @jjbanks @that-one-weird-fangirl2020 @rewindlr @beautyandthebleh @kenziemcnicol @dirtyskittlewater @luvbabyjade @p0gues4l @sunfl0w3rvol6 @theloveofpeterparker @ebonyyyy-e @niagaratears @alilybush @julesclues @aleeciamackenzie @outrbanxs @trinnwazheree @fangirlika @hotel-colson @talksoprettyjjx @106sami @ohbabycal @takisss @spam-to-follow @toloveortobeinlove @alexis-marrt022 @lovingonshawn @drw0301bieber @diverrdown @finelinebitch @amortiff @velvetxvignette @emptycanvasposts @kcxxlove @its-fun-to-fantasize-4 @thedemonsimpofcamphalfblood @Sugarglohss @strawberrydonkey @heavenlymama @cxrlyrxe @thotbutpurple @ibookofstars @kayladownunder @jjaybank @cyrrusmreadings @omigodbeckylookatherbutt @obx-imagines-07 @lussuria-zephyr @yeahilljustgo @morganoddwalker @junisfics @trash-can-kristin @hippyexplosions @June549 @canibeoneofthepogues @poguecalum @lussuria-zephyr @hoe4jj @kylie-winchester-novak @girls-breaking-hearts @bqbyl0n @kiillakay @Thewintermarvel33 @marylanddgirly @cakesbabylon @thesweetlifeoflaney @lovegroves @solllaris @wunderbaerchensahnehaeupchen @whoeverineedtobe @croissantpants @snflowerr @emdavis2634 @starswin @summerkaulitz @halpertstuna @seaweedthewhale @poguesforlife13 @girlwiththerubyslippers @harryswigss @hotel-colson @summerkaulitz @ahavatia @honeylipshoneymind @idocarealot @beacnhlls @niya-savage @thesadgirl5455 @eideticcmgg @jooordanharrrop @tempestuousjj @characterobsessed @jjmxybnk @thenextteen @iixbella @abbiesthings @popcrone818 @miapotpot197 @justsomerandompersonintheworld @yourlocalemodad @spidergirla5 @thatshithurted8 @raekenliar @sebastianstahn @walkingtothesun @joshy-obx @sportygal55 @0-tatiana-0 @rafej-cambank.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #my writing #jj and the untimely prank

2K notes · View notes

thatesqcrush · 3 years

Text

The Nanny, Part 2

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Follow-up to part one here. Warnings: NSFW - smut, oral (male/female receiving), squirting, daddy kink), language. WC 5.3K.

It was early in the morning when you woke up. You stretched, arching your back and elongating your limbs, enjoying the way the expensive sheets felt against your naked body. You winced as you did so, realizing you were sore in the best way. You looked over and realized Bryan was not next to you. You knew he was up early most days as he had to deal with legal business overseas.

You quickly redressed and made way back to the joined apartment, where after your shower, you admired the bruises and marks that decorated your body. As your fingers traced over the love bite on your breast, your mind went back to the events of the night prior. A feeling of nervousness developed in the pit of your belly - you wondered how you would get through the day - would Bryan have regretted it? Would you still have a job? Looking at the time, you realized you didn’t have much time to ponder the what-ifs. Sandrine and Jasper would be up soon and you had to get them ready for the day.

The hustle and bustle of the morning did keep your mind otherwise preoccupied. “Turn around, let me see.” You told Sandrine as you finished doing her hair. Sandrine did so and looked up at you a toothy smile. You gave her a smile in return as you brushed her bangs from out of her eyes.

“Ms. Y/N, did you have a fun Valentine’s Day?” Sandrine asked.

“Ummm, something like that.” You murmured as you leaned to grab a hair bow to clip to her hair. You slid the purple bow and then gave her a once-over. “All set - let's go have some breakfast.”

“Did you kiss any boys?” Sandrine continued to inquire as she followed you into the kitchen. You opened your mouth to reply when you halted in your steps seeing Bryan ahead, pouring coffee.

“Morning sweetheart.” Bryan greeted, his gaze turning toward Sandrine. You tried to move discreetly past the six-year old when Bryan turned to you.

“Morning Y/N.” Bryan winked as he sipped his coffee. He was shirtless once more, and your mind flashed to how you gripped his strong, defined arms as he came inside of you not even 24 hours before.

“Hi Bryan.” You murmured, barely meeting his gaze as you walked over to where he was. Bryan watched you as he leaned against the sink, his arms crossed. You stood on your tip-toes to reach into the cabinet to get a coffee mug.

“Let me get that for you.” Bryan offered, stepping behind you as he placed his own mug down beside you. The feel of Bryan being pressed against you and the scent of his soap caused a shot of arousal to course through you. As a result, your pussy clenched involuntarily around nothing. Bryan’s breath was hot on your neck and you felt your skin prickle. Bryan reached around for his mug once more and leaned against the counter.

“Y/N, after you get back from drop-off, you and I need to talk.” Bryan announced quietly.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach and your cheeks burned. “Um… sure.” You replied, hoping Bryan would not hear the shake in your voice. “No work today?” You asked. “I thought you had to go into the office?”

“Took my calls earlier and two of my cases have continuances. I have the entire day ahead of me.”

Jasper happened to catch the tail-end of the conversation as he placed his empty cereal bowl into the sink.

“Dad, you have the day off? Can we have a movie day?” Jasper asked. Sandrine let out a squeal, hearing her brother.

“Please, daddy, please!” Sandrine begged. “With popcorn and everything!”

Bryan smiled as he leaned over to ruffle Jasper’s hair. “Of course we can - that’s if Y/N would care to join us?”

Your brows furrowed. ‘Maybe I am not getting canned after all.’ you thought to yourself.

“Please Ms. Y/N, please!” Both children pleaded in unison.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts and smiled brightly. “Of course I can! Now, if you’re done, brush teeth and put on shoes - we have to leave in ten minutes.”

As the children ran off, you turned your attention back to Bryan, who was looking at you once more. His face was unreadable and you awkwardly gave him a small wave before following the children to help them finish getting ready.

You rapped on the door quietly, with your knuckles. “Bryan? You wanted to talk with me?” You called out.

You heard Bryan beckon you in and when you opened the door, you found him sitting at his desk. He looked up at you from his laptop and gave you a smile. “Please sit.” He extended his arm to the chair in front of his desk.

Your pulse quickened and your mouth suddenly went dry. You swallowed hard and wiped your now sweaty palms on the tops of your thighs. “So you wanted to talk?”

Bryan nodded. “About last night. It - you - I…” The normally loquacious litigator found himself at a loss for words. He cleared his throat and let out a deep exhalation. “Last night was a lot of fun, but--”

“Oh that’s never a good sign.” You interjected, nervously laughing. Bryan responded with holding a sole finger up and you instantly quieted.

“We cannot let last night happen again.” Bryan continued. “I would be remiss to say I didn’t find you attractive - and really, I should be trying to find someone to replace you as we crossed an inappropriate line. That said, you are really integral to Jasper and Sandrine’s happiness, so I will keep you on unless you want to tender your resignation - which of course, would be understandable.”

You felt your cheeks burn once more and your eyes well up. What were you expecting? A proclamation of love? That he would fall for the nanny? 'This isn’t a Harlequin romance novel.’ you chastised yourself.

You put on a brave smile. “I totally understand. I would be happy to stay on. There is no reason why we cannot go back to a strictly professional relationship.”

Bryan tapped his desk with the top of his hand. “Great. I am so relieved that we are on the same page.”

You nodded and you waited for him to continue. After a beat, Bryan gave you a pointed look and you took the hint to leave. You shut the door behind you as you left and allowed the tears to freely fall. Unbeknownst to you, Bryan had just dropped his head into his hands, defeated.

Time moved forward and the seasons changed. The freezing temperatures of winter in Chicago gave way to the blistering heat of summer. The twins birthday had arrived and turning seven was apparently a much bigger deal than when you turned seven. No expense was spared. Bryan’s home was bustling with children, caterers and party professionals.

The spectacular event (held inside a makeshift circus tent, of course) included a “trapeze” photo op, circus-themed treats like popcorn and candy, an outdoor swing, tons of colorful balloons, a “TICKETS” booth and more. Circus performers were preparing to liven up the party. Topping everything off was a truly lavish multi-tiered birthday cake with miniature versions of the children as acrobats in front of a circus tent.

Bryan had gone to pour himself a glass of water when he caught sight of you through the kitchen window. He swallowed hard as he watched you busy yourself with the children. You had dressed up for the occasion, cosplaying as Anne Wheeler. You wore a lilac sleeveless leotard with a matching short length lilac cape. White shorts were molded to your ass and thighs. Your hair was sprayed bubblegum pink.

Bryan swallowed his drink, desperately hoping the iced cold water would help cool him from the sudden warmth he was feeling. He decided to go outside and distract himself with some of the guests. The sun was beaming bright and hot, nary a cloud in the sky. The sounds of children giggling and shrieking filled the yard space. Bryan couldn’t help but keep you in his line of sight. You had taken off your cape and was now in just the leotard and shorts. As you danced with one of the kids, Bryan couldn’t help but watch your tits bounce. His mind was suddenly brought back to Valentine’s Day and how he got an up close shot of those tits bouncing as he fucked you.

A hand clasped Bryan on the shoulder and he turned, seeing it was the dad of one of Sandrine’s and Jasper’s friends. Another joined, a colleague, with beers in hand. “This is one hell of a party Kneef.” The blond in a teal polo replied - Bryan vaguely recalled his name was Bryce and was opposing counsel on an old case.

“Agreed.” The other man, Derek, replied. His gaze steered to you and he let out a low whistle as you bent over to talk to one of the kids.

“Damn Kneef, your nanny sure is something.” Derek continued. “Tell me, are you fucking her?”

“No!” Bryan denied, a bit more loudly than he intended. Derek looked at him with brows arched. Bryan shook his head. “I - I - I wouldn’t jeopardize her relationship with the twins. They really love her.” Bryan replied. “Good help is hard to come by.”

Bryce snorted before taking a swig of his beer. “If I wasn’t married, I’d be taking her home right now.”

“Hell I’m married, and I am considering taking her home.” Derek chuckled. “Lily’s away on business.”

Bryan stiffened, doing his best to swallow the urge to clock both men. He was filled with a surge of jealousy at the idea of you going off with one of them, who in his mind were just a bunch of douchebags. “Really?” he sneered, turning his attention to Derek. “You’d do that?”

“Oh fuck off Bryan. You’re one to talk. If you didn’t have the kids, this would be something you’d absolutely be doing - hell, you have done it!” Derek replied, rolling his eyes. “How many times have you been caught with your pants down and some bimbo paralegal over your desk?”

Bryan chose to not respond, as the answer was too many times to count. He was the office playboy for a number of years. The only reason he was even kept around as long as he was, was because he brought in a lot of business for the firm.

“Neither one of you are going home with my nanny.” Bryan gritted, taking another swig of his beer. “She’s…a person, not just a piece of ass.”

Both men didn’t reply, instead just looking away. Bryan let out an audible sigh before walking over to another group of friends and colleagues. “Come on, the game should be on and I have some Cubans that need to be smoked.”

At one point the adults and kids changed and it became a pool party. You sipped on a lemonade and watched as Bryan climbed out of the pool. His body was soaking and was more toned than from even the last time you saw him naked. ‘What is he doing? Pull-ups on the scaffolding?’ You wondered as he wrapped a large towel around Sandrine and Jasper.

Your pussy clenched, remembering how you clawed his back desperately as you came all over him repeatedly, with his cock, mouth, and hands. Arousal coursed through you and you let out an irritated sigh, knowing you’d need to rely on your battery operated boyfriend some more if you were going to survive this job.

Hours later, the festivities were over. You and Bryan each carried an exhausted twin and set them in their room, each likely down for the night. You followed Bryan out and shut the door behind you with a gentle click before making way to the kitchen. You found an empty tiered cupcake carrier and began to pack away some of the leftover cupcakes.

“You don’t need to clean up.” Bryan commented as he opened another beer. “I hired a clean up crew for that reason.”

“I don’t mind.” You shrugged, turning to him. Bryan’s gaze fell to your breasts again, and it was apparent you weren’t wearing any bra as he could see the outline of your hardened nipples.

“Idle hands are the devil's workshop.” you continued. Some frosting got on your fingers and you sucked your finger clean, while meeting Bryan’s eyes, which were blown with lust.

“I can find something to do with your hands.” Bryan retorted, stepping towards you and closing the gap. One arm wrapped around your waist while the other brushed some hair out of your face. You gazed at Bryan’s lips, pink, soft and plush and you licked your own lips in anticipation. His mouth began to drop to yours when the sound of a voice clearing caused the two of you to jump back in response.

It was mommy dearest herself, lips pursed in a thin line, arms crossed. “Am I interrupting?”

“Constance.” Bryan greeted coolly, turning away from you. “What are you doing here? Party finished two hours ago.”

“I was hoping that I could be with the kids on their birthdays and give them a present.” Constance replied, her eyes still locked on you. You dropped your head and choked out an ‘excuse me’ before dashing off to your apartment. Bryan watched as your form disappeared before turning back to his ex-wife.

“Connie - we have a custody arrangement in place for a reason. You cannot just show up unannounced.” Bryan gritted as he took the gift bags from her and placed them on the breakfast bar.

“I know, I know.” Constance stated. As she walked towards Bryan, the echoing sound of her heels against the marbled tile filled the room. She clasped her hands together, her bracelets jangling together. “I was just hoping we could make an exception for today, after all I am their mother.”

“You left us. You were never part of their lives. You may be Sandrine’s and Jasper’s mother on paper, but that’s all you are. You are lucky I was considerate enough to entertain the amount of visitation you have in place right now.” Bryan spat.

“Bryan, don’t be like that. I was young, I had a burgeoning model career that got derailed when two pink lines showed up on the test. I have more than made up for it.” Constance argued.

Bryan pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a deep breath in exasperation, wanting nothing more than for his ex-wife to leave. “Connie, the kids are asleep. Please just go - you have the kids next weekend. I’ll make sure they get your gifts.”

“Fine.” Constance looked at Bryan, her brow arched perfectly in judgment. “Before I go, just tell me since when did you start fucking the help?”

Bryan spat out his beer. “What you saw--”

“Please, I am not an idiot. Just wait til I let my lawyer know.” Connie threatened.

Bryan’s blood pressure shot through the roof. A fresh swell of rage rose inside. He clenched his fists, his guts churning in turmoil.

“Don’t you fucking threaten me. Get the fuck out.” Bryan growled. And when Constance didn’t move, he burst in anger. “Now! Go home Connie!”

***

You watched from your window as Constance climbed into her Mercedes and drove off. You climbed into your bed and stared at the ceiling as you contemplated everything from the last few months. ‘What were you doing? Sleeping with your boss - then the near kiss! You are such an idiot! How did you think that was going to end?’

‘But there is something more’ the voice in your head said. 'Isn’t there?’ that same voice continued. ‘Or were you both just so good at pretending it was real?’

There was a knock on your door and you shuffled your way to the door. The knocking continued followed by the sound of Bryan’s voice.

When you opened the door, the sight of Bryan standing there, kicked your libido up fifteen or so notches. His form was stiff, with set shoulders.

“Hey.” You greeted, stepping aside. “Come in.” There was already an awkward tension and the two of you hadn’t even spoken yet. You took a deep breath as you shut the door and followed him into the living room.

“Can I get you anything?” You asked nervously. “I can make some co--”

“Why’d you run out?” Bryan asked, interrupting you. His expression had hardened.

Looking away, you sighed before sitting down. Your shoulders sagged and you rubbed your face, smearing some of the glitter on your face. “It was awkward! We said we weren’t going to do anything… and then it felt like we were. And then of all people to show up, it was your ex-wife! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Not run out.” Bryan gritted. “We could have talked about this.”

“Well isn’t that what we’re doing now?” You asked, crossing your arms. You hadn’t changed and you were still in cosplay. Your breasts were pushed up under your arms and Bryan felt his cock twitch in his pants. Bryan looked around your apartment for something to distract him and his eyes settled on a picture of you and the twins at the park. He let out his own deep breath.

“You don’t need to worry about Constance. She’s just bitter - she is the type of person who shouldn’t have become a parent.” Bryan replied, taking a seat next to you. He cocked his head. “Admittedly, I was that type too.”

You turned to Bryan. “What do you mean?”

“I won’t sugarcoat it; I had more than my fair share of partners. I met Constance at a rough time in my life and she helped settle me down. We did the whole wedding thing and she got pregnant. After the kids were born, she just had a hard time giving up her old life - it was probably some kind of post-partum thing but I was too busy prioritizing my work otherwise to notice the signs. One day she was just gone. Left me a ‘dear John’ letter and that was that.” Bryan explained.

“But the kids see her. How did that happen?” You inquired.

“She showed up around when they were older. Showed interest. Wanted to make amends. For the sake of the kids, we negotiated visitation. I have primary custody and there’s a schedule. She wasn’t supposed to come today.”

Bryan continued, now pacing the length of the room. “I was cut off guard when I saw her. With her, I always feel like another shoe is about to drop.”

You walked in front of him, pausing him in mid-stride. “Oh Bryan.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and looked up at him. Bryan watched as you licked your lips and as he saw the pink of your tongue dart out, he had made his decision. He leaned down to kiss you and you met him the rest of the way. You sighed into the kiss, molding into the heat of his embrace. You felt him harden against your belly and you dropped your hand to rub him gently through his pants.

“I thought we wouldn’t do this again. The rules.” You panted in between kisses.

Bryan broke the kiss. “Fuck the rules. Let me make sure the cleaning crew is done and then we’ll pick up where we left off.” His voice was gravelly, the tone lustful.

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed; a shiver went up your spine and your heart quickened in anticipation of what was to come. “I’ll freshen up and meet you there.”

You let out a moan as Bryan’s lips found purchase on your neck. His hands cupped your tits from behind, squeezing your flesh. You pushed your hair to the side to allow him greater access. A hand slipped down in front of the leotard you wearing. “No bra? Naughty girl.” He murmured as his thumb and forefinger tugged and rolled your nipple, until it was at attention. You turned around and cupped his face, tugging on his beard as you drew him in for another kiss. His tongue pressed at the seam of your lips, requesting access and you opened your mouth in response. His tongue slid into your mouth, exploring and rolling against yours. Bryan’s hands cupped your ass, squeezing them through your shorts.

Bryan broke the kiss. “You in those tiny shorts - all I wanted to do was haul you off and fuck you.”

“You should have.” You purred as you took his arms and led him to the bed. “And then you could have told the guys that you had filled me up and that my panties were dripping with your load.” You nipped his ear, causing Bryan to growl.

“You knew we were talking about you?” His green eyes were blown with lust and searched yours.

“Of course, I did. I have eyes you know.” You rolled your eyes. “I saw how you were all staring.”

“But now we can make up for lost time.” Bryan remarked, kissing you once more. You smiled against his kiss as you dropped his hands and walked a few steps ahead. You made a big show of removing your clothes. “See, no panties either.” You shimmied the leotard down your hips and thighs letting the material pool around your feet.

Bryan’s eyes darkened with lust as he watched you and made his own removal of his clothes. His cock sprang to attention as he pulled down his boxers and without a word exchanged, you dropped to your knees. You took the hair elastic that was around your wrist and you scooped your still-very pink hair into a ponytail.

Bryan’s cock was painfully hard and aching, with a bead of pre-cum weeping from the head. Bryan chuckled darkly and gripped his cock, pumping it a few times before dragging it back and forth along your lips. “You want this?” He asked, as he now tapped it on your face.

You looked up at Bryan and opened your mouth wide, extending your tongue over your bottom lip. Bryan let out another chuckle as he fed you his cock. “That’s it, take daddy’s cock.”

You relaxed your throat as Bryan continued to press his cock into your mouth. Once he had hit the back of your throat, he holds you in place, causing you to gag, and spit to start dripping from your mouth. He released himself and before you could get another deep inhalation of air, he slammed his cock into your mouth all the way again. He again held you in place and your eyes began to water as you gagged; more saliva dripped over your chin and onto the floor. Bryan withdrew again and this time you used your hand to pump him. You gathered some saliva and spit on his cock for lubrication. You gave him a few more pumps and then you took his length into your mouth once more.

Bryan threw his head back as you closed your mouth around him, using your tongue to go over every ridge and vein. The weight of his thick cock against your tongue caused your pussy to ache with need. Bryan focused his gaze back on you, watching as his length disappeared in and out of your mouth.

Bryan grunted and groaned, moaning your name in encouragement as you worshipped his cock. You flattened your tongue and ran it along his length before sucking on the sensitive crown, flicking your tongue against the tip. Bryan reached for your ponytail and wrapped your hair in his grip, guiding you along again. You let him set the pace and soon he was fucking your throat, the only sounds in the room being wet, slurping sounds and the obscene moans you were making from around his cock.

“Fucking love your mouth but I love coming in that pussy more.” Bryan grunted. You let out a whine and Bryan removed himself from your mouth. With your hair still gripped in his hand, he tilted your head up. “Is that what my girl wants?”

You nodded, desperately. “Yes daddy, come in my pussy! Please.”

Bryan helped you rise to your feet. He gripped your chin, and took in the sight of you. Chin messy with saliva, streaks of mascara down your cheeks. His cock twitched once more - you never looked more beautiful. “Bed - now. I want to feast on that pussy.”

You turned to climb onto the bed and Bryan gave you a smack on your ass, causing you to squeal. You flopped onto your back and spread your legs wide. Reaching down with your hand, you spread your folds apart, giving Bryan an ample look at your arousal.

“Have I told you that you have such a pretty pussy?” Bryan murmured against your skin. He used his fingers to spread your lips more, revealing your flesh. He stroked your pussy teasingly, gathering your arousal on his fingertips but never sinking them into where you wanted it most. As he continued to stroke your lips, he pressed kisses along your inner thighs. You reveled in the feel of his wiry beard along your skin. You recalled how Bryan liked a bare pussy and you were happy to endure repeated Brazilians in hopes of anything would come about in the future... and now it had.

His breath was hot on your aching cunt. You cried out as he wrecked your pussy with his tongue, burying his face inside of you, sucking and licking and devouring your slick folds.. To Bryan you were like a juicy peach, with your arousal dripping into his mouth. You were delicious and he couldn’t get enough of you. He licked you with big, broad strokes, before targeting your swollen, sensitive clit, taking it between his lips, trapping it so he could torment it with his tongue, scraping just slightly with his teeth. He reached up to grab at your tits, his large hand gripping one tightly. You cried out from the sensation of how his tongue massaged your clit furiously before dipping inside you, mimicking what was to come.

You ground against his mouth, riding against his face, as pleasure coursed through you. Bryan lifted his mouth from you and you whined at the loss. It was short lived, as he sucked two of his fingers and then slid them into your tight cunt, knuckles deep. As he massaged your walls with his fingers, he used his free hand to rub your clit.

“Gonna come for me Y/N? Gonna make a mess for daddy?” Bryan rasped as he curled his fingers, pumping them into you faster.

“Yes, fuck, yes!” You cried out, throwing your head back. Your thighs began to shake and Bryan began to rub your clitoris roughly and haphazardly. You shouted Bryan’s name as you clenched around his fingers, squirting and soaking him in the process. You began to push away from him, overstimulated but Bryan threw his large arm over you, keeping you in place.

“Oh no, no.” Bryan darkly commanded. “Daddy wants more.” He slipped his fingers back into, this time, adding one more into your fluttering cunt and began jackhammering them. He rubbed your clitoris roughly again, the squelching wet sounds filled up the room. You cried out again, feeling the pressure inside you burst, as you squirted again. Bryan lapped you, cleaning you with his tongue, enjoying your flavor.

You barely had a chance to recover, as Bryan slid his body over yours and slid his cock easily into you. You groaned as he filled you, the slight burn sensation mixing with pleasure as you accommodated his girth. He gripped your wrists and placed your arms overhead.

“Hold onto the rails sweetheart.” You looked back and gripped the wrought iron rails, which elongated the length of your body. Bryan covered your mouth with his as he began to drive into you with long, deep strokes. He pounded into you, and you could feel his balls slap against your pussy.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes, yes, fuck me!” You cried out. Bryan leaned up, so he was sitting on his haunches and took both your legs and hooked them over his shoulder. Bryan continued to thrust into you and you let out a wrecked moan as the angle changed, causing his cock to hit your sensitive spot. A sheen of sweat coated both of your bodies as you fucked each other. You released your grips on the rails and began to play to play with your tits, pushing them together and tugging on your nipples.

“Yes…” Bryan grunted. “Play with those titties.”

You moaned, and continued to do so, encouraged by his words. Bryan slowed his thrusting, rotating his hips, teasing you. You let out a choked sob as he did so, and he reached down to rub your clit. “Come for me.” Your legs trembled as you felt yet another orgasm begin to build.

“Oh fuck daddy, oh yes!” You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut as you began to tighten around his cock. Bryan paused his movements and withdrew, tapping his cock against your clit furiously. A gush of your come squirted out, covering him and soaking the bed below. You had barely caught your breath when Bryan pulled you up and flopped you onto your stomach. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as you took his length into your mouth again, bobbing on him enthusiastically. You could taste yourself on his cock.

“My dirty slut.” Bryan cooed, as he stroked your now sweaty hair. He wrapped some of it in his fist, guiding you along. You squealed as he reached over and began to lay spanks on your ass.

You released him from your mouth, gasping more. “Yes, daddy, spank me. I have been such a bad girl.”

“Bad girls get punished.” Bryan growled. You looked up at him and nodded eagerly.

“Mmmm, punish me daddy!”

He pulled you up roughly and crushed his mouth against yours - the kiss was all teeth and tongue. He broke the kiss and lightly smacked you on the face and then gripped your chin.

“Is that what daddy's girl wants? To be punished for being such a dirty fucking slut?”

You nodded again. “Yes. Please.” You begged desperately. Bryan repeated the slap and then reached down to grab your tits before also slapping them. You let out a whimper, as the pain mixed with pleasure. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him back down onto the bed. He rolled so you were on top. You leaned forward, rising slightly and reached down for his cock, lining it up along with your entrance.

You both groaned at the sensation. Bryan’s grip on your hips were tight and you were certain there would be marks on your hips in the morning. The room smelled of sex and sweat and the only sound were moans and groans as well as the sound of skin slapping on skin.

You wanted one more - just one more to lessen the ache that only Bryan seemed to create. You reached down and rubbed your clit, closing your eyes as you let this final orgasm crash over you. You slumped forward, dropping your head by his ear as Bryan planted his feet up onto the bed and hammered into you, now chasing his own release. You mewled and whimpered in his ear, begging sweetly for his cum. Bryan stifferned, gripping your hips tightly as he let out an animalistic groan as he spilled his release into you. His release dripped out of you, pooling where you were connected.

You both stayed there for awhile, catching your breaths. Bryan stroked your back as you nuzzled against him. Finally, you rolled off of Bryan and curled into him, stroking his chest hair.

“You certainly know how to keep me young.” Bryan murmured, causing you to laugh. Bryan rolled onto his side, turning to face you. He pushed back the hair from your face. He observed a pink strand. “I like it - you should keep it.”

You smiled. “We’ll see.” Bryan hummed and pulled you to him, where you both fell asleep from the little party you had with one another.

FIN.

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @dreamlover31 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @isvvc-pvscvl @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02 @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @teamsladsandgents @qvid-pro-qvo @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @wanniiieeee @tintinxtintin @law-nerd105

#bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef smut #bryan kneef imagine #bryan kneef and reader #bryan kneef x you

107 notes · View notes

notyourdayrdream · 3 years

Text

Summer’s Almost Over (So Come Spend it with Me)

Day Eleven, Side A: Vigilant

read it here on AO3

A/N: this update will so much more sense if you’ve read day three of this collection, which was the word ‘ubiquitous’!

Diner in the Sky is closing.

Their bosses, a middle aged couple, told them in tears before the morning shift, how the whole mayor thing had died down and customers had tanked with it. They would shut down the last week of summer.

Being dramatic theatre kids, the New Directions and Blaine worked after hours to try and save the restaurant. Finn and Puck brought the football players and The Unholy Trinity brought the cheerleaders, and that night became a whole party. While it was fun, nobody had really bought anything. Blaine’s idea to perform turned out much better. He and the Warblers became a group of singing quartets, cooing to customers instead of a jukebox. Kurt thought it was fantastic, not just because he got to watch his boyfriend sing and dance around in a striped shirt and tight jeans all night. And oh, was it so sweet to mess up his gelled quiff during makeout sessions in the backseat of his car.

But it wasn’t enough. The Walken’s were grateful, but they had already sold, and with a heavy heart let all of their teenage employees go. Their last day was a week before their place would be cleared out and devoid of any fifties charm Kurt had grown to love.

But once again, being dramatic theatre kids, Rachel and Mercedes asked if they could use the restaurant one last time. And the Walken’s agreed.

“Oh my God!” Santana cried, clicking a few photos with her phone. “I will never get over you guys in those costumes.” Her arm is stretched around the red leather booth, not enough to draw suspicion to why it’s draped around Brittany. But Kurt notices.

Mercedes, Rachel, and Blaine do the Charlie's Angels pose, cracking up their friends, who’ve shoved themselves into three booths, back to back.

“Look, I’m gonna miss this dress, okay?” Mercedes says, pushing her way into a seat, squishing next to Nick. She has a plate of chili cheese fries in her hands, even though they agreed they wouldn’t actually work tonight. They all ended up doing it anyway. “It makes me feel like Tiana, a real Disney Princess.”

“Oh please, you sing like one already,” Blaine interjects, barely sitting on the end of the seat. His bowtie is crooked. Mercedes swats his arm, but Kurt can see her blush.

At first Kurt was a bit nervous about introducing Blaine to everyone. His dad and Carole were no big deal, Blaine has enough charm to sweet talk a lion into not eating him. No, he had been nervous for him to meet the New Directions. They were known to be judgy. Before they went out to a Movie in the Park night, Kurt ran down every moment of drama since the group’s founding. Offending one member would seriously hurt Blaine’s chances of being accepted. But, of course, he didn’t need it at all. He was a natural, jumping back and forth conversations before and after the movie, making everybody feel special. When he hit it off with Sam, Kurt and Mercedes were ecstatic at the thought of their boyfriends becoming best friends like them.

“I’m actually really sad this place is closing,” Rachel says, picking the bacon bits off her cobb salad. Kurt already knows she’s gonna give one of the cooks an earful about that. “Yeah it was a job, but it was so much fun!” Everyone else nods.

“What’s it going to be turned into, anway?” David asks, twisting around from his seat at the booth behind them.

Kurt rolls his eyes. “A laundromat,” he groans. In the middle of downtown. Whoever was doing the layout for Lima’s recreational district needed to be fired. “So now you can wash your dirty clothes with the stench of hot dogs wafting through the air!”

His friends crack up, and soon he’s laughing too. He loves that feeling, when your joke lands really well and everyone laughs with you. It’s the closest Kurt gets to a standing ovation everyday.

“I love you,” Blaine gets out through laughs, probably not even processing what he just said. But Kurt does, and his heart stops like a chipped record.

Yeah, Kurt’s known about Blaine loving him since that night in July, but he’s never said it. And in his eyes those are two different things. So as Kurt’s mind races to process what he just said (“does he really mean that? what if he just said it to be funny?”), Blaine stops laughing, his face white as a sheet.

He won’t meet Kurt’s eyes. “Um.” The room’s gone deathly quiet, save for the jukebox, constant in its crackling. “I’m gonna start cleaning up now. In the kitchen.” Blaine grabs the plate that Puck was still picking at and rushes into the kitchen. Kurt can’t decide if it’s more sweet or sad.

“Was that the first time he said it?” Tina asked from behind him. The whole diner seems to waits on his every word. Kurt doesn’t trust his voice, so he just nods. Every girl at the tables loses their collective minds, shrieking and telling stories all at the same time. Even though he can’t tell his heart to stop freaking out, he smiles to himself.

“I’ll be right back.” He stands up, knocking the table with his knees. His hands are clammy, when did that happen? Rachel and Wes push him forward when his feet feel planted. Eventually they back off and Kurt pushes through the double doors.

“Hey…” he starts, watching as his boyfriend vigilantly scrubs at a spotless looking bowl. “Are you okay? You kinda disappeared there.”

Blaine nods and keeps his eyes down. “Yep! I’m totally fine,” he grits his teeth in pretending to wipe off a dish. Kurt snorts despite himself, his boyfriend’s just a really awful actor.

“Stop laughing,” Blaine pouts. There’s dozens of reflections of him in the shiny silver pots and pans and refrigerators. “It’s not funny.” He flicks some soapy water at Kurt’s forehead, and it slides down his nose.

He watches the clump of soap run down his face and flop unceremoniously onto the floor. He’ll have to do his skincare routine twice. “Oh it is on.” Kurt comes closer and scoops up a handful of suds just to dump it onto Blaine’s hair.

Blaine gasps, wiping the rest off his head before it pops. He smirks and throws some more soap at Kurt’s chest. And so the war begins.

They attack each other like it’s a snowball fight, racing to grab armfuls of soap suds and throwing them, even if they float to the ground. They fling gray water back and forth at each other and run around the kitchen to dodge it. It’s absolutely gross and undignified, but Kurt finds that he could care less.

After they’ve soaked themselves and the floor, Blaine waives a towel in surrender. “Okay! Okay! You win!” he laughs. His face is slick with a mix of sweat at sink water, and his shirt clings to his chest.

Kurt grins and grabs a towel, linking up beside him to help dry. It’s still on his mind, the whole thing that happened outside, but he doesn’t press. They’re a unit, drying and stacking dishes together, humming a song Kurt can’t exactly recognize.

“I just wanted it to be special,” Blaine admits after a while. “I was gonna set up something really cute here one day, like a candlelit dinner, and get French food from that place across the street. Something big.”

Kurt sets his glass plate down and turns to see Blaine’s face. “As much as I love French food, you didn’t have to do something so grandiose.” He’s learned Blaine loves doing things big. When it was Lauren’s birthday, one of the chefs, he had the entire staff decorate the outside of the restaurant in a beach theme since she was from California. It was gorgeous, if not time consuming.

“But you deserve it,” Blaine replied, eyebrows knitting together. “You deserve the world, Kurt.” And the great goes back to washing dishes like he didn’t say the most romantic thing on the planet.

Kurt presses his against the stainless steel counter and kisses him when words fail. Blaine smells like soapy water and the familiarity of his pine scented cologne. Kurt kisses him softly, his favorite way to kiss (he never thought he’d have a favorite way to kiss, but life has just been full of surprises recently). Blaine absolutely falls apart like this, sighing into his mouth and pulling at the back of Kurt’s shirt.

And he hopes, absolutely prays to a god he doesn’t believe in, that a kiss can convey how he feels. How he’s felt since that night in the heat of July with Italian diners.

“I love you too.”

#tan lines and tan hands #spaceorphan’s sophisticated challenge: vigilant #glee #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #two shot #klaine fanfiction #i had no original ideas for today so this is the best i had #but i really liked the whole diner idea i kind of wish i saved it for a full story

17 notes · View notes

bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

if i keep my heart out of sight

summary: Apollo used to think Klavier was an open book - someone honest, someone uncomplicated, someone who didn’t have anything to hide. But when Klavier asks Apollo to accompany him on a visit to see Kristoph, Apollo finds himself starting to think otherwise.

word count: 4.2k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day three of seven (prompt: "protection"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some point in time between Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song If I Keep My Heart Out Of Sight by James Taylor.

“You don’t have to, Apollo. I know I’m probably asking too much of you, so if - ”

“No, i-it’s okay, you just - you surprised me. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there! Only...we’re not going on your bike, are we?”

Klavier blinked. His expression scared Apollo; he’d never seen Klavier so stoic, so serious, not even during the most crucial moments of a trial. Then, Klavier burst into laughter. “Achtung, I ask you to come with me to visit mein Bruder in prison, and that’s what you’re concerned about?”

Huffing, Apollo narrowed his eyes at him. “Actually, I’m more concerned about you calling me ‘Apollo’ a second ago. You feeling okay, Gavin?”

“Obviously I’m feeling just fine, Forehead, as you can plainly see by me wanting to talk about Kristoph for a change,” Klavier drawled, his lazy smile betrayed by the sharp glint in his eyes. “And nein, not my motorcycle. Did you forget I have a car?”

“Apparently,” Apollo said. “You ever mess up the exhaust pipe on that one, too?” Now it was Klavier’s turn to glare. “Kidding, kidding. So, uh...what brought this on? Why do you even wanna see him?”

“Misguided need for closure?” Klavier let out a short, harsh chuckle. “Or maybe I’m just bored.”

Apollo had to look away from Klavier for a moment, the rush of emotions that had crossed his face just then too overwhelming to bear. They were standing in the courtroom, which was long empty now that their latest trial was over. Phoenix and Athena were waiting for Apollo in the defense lobby, while Trucy was back at the agency, eagerly awaiting the outcome. For Klavier, on the other hand, the only things waiting for him were the journalists on the courthouse front steps and the paperwork on his desk at the prosecutor’s office. “And...why do you want me to go with you?” Apollo asked, looking back up.

Klavier shrugged. “We don’t hang out enough,” he replied, grinning cheekily. He then turned and headed for the courtroom doors, lifting a manicured hand to wave him off. “I’ll text you, ja? Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.”

“Liar,” Apollo muttered, rubbing his wrist where his bracelet had squeezed him.

_____

Another week or so went by before Apollo found himself getting into Klavier’s car, his stomach turning unpleasantly. It was mid-morning on a Saturday, a time in which he was usually at his most relaxed - sleeping in, watching TV, and hanging out with his cat. But now, all he could think about was Klavier’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“...Gavin.”

“Ja?” Klavier’s response was too quick, too loud.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Apollo asked. “You shouldn't force yourself to do something you don’t wanna do. If he, I dunno, contacted you and called you out or whatever - ”

“He didn’t,” Klavier interrupted swiftly. “And before you ask, nein, I didn’t contact him, either. Just this once, I’d prefer that he didn’t have the upper hand.”

Apollo’s face softened; he nodded. “Good call. Who knows - maybe it’ll work in your favor.”

They pulled into the Central Prison parking lot less than thirty minutes later. Apollo, trembling with anxiety, followed Klavier closely as they made their way through security. Prison, Apollo thought rather stupidly, felt cold, impersonal. At least Klavier radiated warmth, familiarity, though the guards seemed surprised to see him. That was to be expected, Apollo supposed, since it had been nearly two years since Kristoph’s imprisonment, and Klavier had never visited until now.

“Here he is,” one of the guards said gruffly after leading them through a confusing series of corridors. “Go on, then.”

Things were unsettlingly quiet for a moment. Apollo and Klavier stared at the reinforced door before them - Kristoph was no longer behind literal bars - waiting, anticipating, dreading what was to come. The only view they were afforded was a small window of an even smaller room, meaning they would only be able to see Kristoph from the waist up at most, even if he was on the complete opposite side of his cell. His back was to them, hands clasped neatly behind him. Klavier’s breath hitched. Kristoph turned abruptly at the sound.

“Ah.” Kristoph smiled pleasantly. “What an unexpected surprise. Mr. Justice, I didn’t know you still cared.”

“Hardly,” Apollo said through gritted teeth. Already, he felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. “Gav - Klavier asked me to come, so I did.”

“Still taking orders from a Gavin, are you?” Kristoph stepped closer. His face was gaunt, his skin ragged. Even his hair seemed to have lost its shine. “And here, I thought you were working for Wright. Or does he not pay you enough? Honestly, I wouldn’t think he’d be able to pay you at all. He’s very fond of working pro bono, from what I remember. How...charitable of him.”

“Hallo to you too, Kristoph,” Klavier said evenly, stepping in front of Apollo. “If you’re done being an arschgeige, it’s me you’re talking to, not him.”

Kristoph’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? I wouldn’t have guessed it, what with you shaking like a leaf.”

Klavier sucked in another breath between his teeth. “Do you really have nothing to say to me? Do you not think of our parents and what they think about you? What everyone thinks about you?”

Kristoph smirked, taking a few measured steps back. “Did they not teach us not to concern ourselves with the opinions of those who don’t matter?”

“So breaking Mama and Papa’s hearts, that doesn’t matter to you?” Klavier snapped. “If I were to bring them here, could you really say that to their faces?” Apollo glanced at him, worried. He’d never heard either Gavin mention their parents before, had always assumed they were gone in some sense. He couldn’t imagine what they were like, what Kristoph and Klavier’s childhood had been like, for them to turn out the way that they did.

“You’re better than that, Klavier,” Kristoph scolded lightly. He seemed to be enjoying himself; it made Apollo’s throat burn with disgust. “Emotional manipulation, hypothetical scenarios...they aren’t becoming of a prosecutor of your caliber.”

“That disappointment you feel? It’s mutual, vertrau mir,” Klavier retorted, letting out an irritable exhale.

“Is that really all you came here to ask me about?” Kristoph paced to the back of his cell, neatly dropping down onto the small cot he'd been given, covered with a threadbare blanket. At the very least, Apollo was satisfied to see how little he had. Phoenix had told him what Kristoph’s first cell was like, how infuriatingly luxurious it was. This was more fitting for a man of his morals. “If I’m broken up about hurting poor Mother and Father’s feelings?”

“Nein, that’s only the beginning,” Klavier said coolly. Apollo shivered, moving away entirely so Klavier could stand directly in front of the little window. “You know, even now, there are still people who think that I’m the arrogant one. The one who so desperately seeks validation, while you don’t have a care in the world. But tell me, Kristoph - if you really care so little about what people think, why are you the one in prison for killing someone who passed you over for a case that would've made you famous?”

Kristoph scowled. “Klavier…”

“And does it bother you, knowing that even before you became a killer, that everyone always preferred me?” Klavier continued, unflinching. “Our parents, our teachers, our family friends...the world at large.”

“Your silly insults are more suitable for a playground than a prison, how depressing,” Kristoph said, quickly regaining his composure. “After all this time, your lack of maturity still disappoints me. Not surprising, though, considering you were worshipped by the masses from a young age. But that worship, it doesn’t quite fill that emptiness, does it?” Klavier went pale.

Apollo let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “The hell does that mean?” he demanded, his voice echoing throughout the prison’s hallowed halls.

“All Klavier ever wanted, ever since he was a little boy, was to be loved. How asinine,” Kristoph drawled. “It was our parents’ love of soaps and Austen novels that...inspired him. Made him the romantic he claims to be. Personally, I don’t believe he was ever deprived of love. As he said, our parents adored him, our teachers and classmates thought he was just so charming...but apparently, that was still never enough.”

“Kristoph,” Klavier warned, eyes narrowing. “Halt mal.”

“Did you know, Mr. Justice, that he’s never been in a long-term relationship?” Kristoph’s gaze went to his brother’s reddening face. “For all his talk, all his literal song and dance about love, he’s never had what anyone would call a romantic partner. Just...sex and bad dates.” He cocked his head, looking at Klavier inquisitively. “Is no one good enough for you, Klavier? Is it that you haven’t found anyone yet? Or...is that you have found someone, only they have no intention of ever loving you back?” He neatly folded one leg over the other, smirking. “I’m inclined to believe the latter. I know your tastes, after all.”

“You don’t know me,” Klavier said lowly. His fists were clenched so tightly, he was leaving fingernail indents in his palms. “I don’t think you ever did.”

“That’s more than most people can say,” Kristoph replied. “When was the last time anyone cared enough to get to know you?”

Klavier reeled back like he’d been hit, his eyes wide and suspiciously wet. “I - I - ”

“Alright, enough!” Apollo said sharply, tugging on Klavier’s elbow. It took a few tries before Klavier moved away from the door, his chest heaving with emotion. Apollo cast him a brief, concerned glance - Klavier refused to look back - before stepping in front of him so he could look Kristoph in the eye. “You know what, Mr. Gavin?”

“Tell me,” Kristoph said, smiling devilishly.

“I obviously wasted my time thinking about what I was gonna say to you, if I was gonna say anything to you,” Apollo said, his own hands trembling by his sides. “But I’ve made up my mind. I-I’m not gonna give you the satisfaction of letting you continue to stroke your own ego. Save that for when you’re alone.”

Kristoph chuckled, amused. “I’m sure that sounded wittier in your head, Mr. Justice. Next time, perhaps.”

“Asshole,” Apollo muttered, pulling on Klavier’s arm once more. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before we do something that gets us thrown behind bars, too.”

Klavier was worryingly silent, barely managing to plaster on a polite smile for the security guards who led them out. By the time they returned to Klavier’s car, Apollo expected him to be furious, to be beside himself, to be completely falling apart. Instead, Klavier was smiling, leaning casually against the side of his car like nothing had happened. “Achtung, I’m starving. Where do you want to eat? I’ll pay.”

“I - huh?!” Apollo’s anger was quickly replaced with confusion. “Wait, we’re just gonna...eat? After all that?”

“Maybe today will finally be the day you have a meal with me, ja?” Klavier teased, his grin widening. There was no trace of emotion in his eyes that suggested he was feeling anything less than perfect. “I mean it, Forehead. You choose.”

“Um.” Apollo cleared his throat. “I...I guess I have a place in mind.”

_____

Klavier stared down at his food with more suspicion than Apollo had ever seen anyone have while looking at a bowl of ramen. “...Gavin?”

“This might contain more sodium than I consume in an entire week,” Klavier mused. He then picked up his chopsticks and began to eat. Apollo exchanged glances with Mr. Eldoon, who merely shrugged and returned to his station by his stockpot. Sighing, Apollo started eating, too. He’d given up on the notion of Klavier talking about what had happened, and honestly, he couldn’t blame him. There was a reason Apollo despised Kristoph like no other, even after all this time. The less said, the better.

“It’s good, right?” Apollo said, chuckling awkwardly. He wasn’t sure whether to go with small talk or stifled silence.

“My compliments to the chef,” Klavier said, loud enough so Mr. Eldoon could hear. He seemed unbothered, waving a hand in bare acknowledgement. “Anyway, what are your plans for the rest of the weekend, Herr Forehead?”

“The same thing I do every weekend - sleep, video games, more sleep,” Apollo replied. “How ‘bout you?”

“MIght go for a run tomorrow, it’s been some time,” Klavier said, popping a piece of chashu into his mouth. “But sleep sounds sehr gut, too. I worked more than usual this week, so maybe I should sleep in, get a massage…”

“Sounds...nice.” Apollo was starting to think silence was the better option. He felt seconds away from bursting with a dozen questions he knew he wasn’t going to get answers to. “Hey, are you - ”

“Do you - ” Klavier cut himself off with a soft laugh. “Sorry, you go first.”

“Are you feeling…” Apollo trailed off when he realized Klavier’s eyes were fixed on him intently; there was something in them that almost felt like a warning. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Never mind, i-it’s not important. What were you gonna say?”

“Do you…” Klavier went quiet for so long, Apollo turned back to his ramen, intensely aware of how close they were sitting, how uncomfortable they both felt. “...regret coming with me?”

Apollo nearly choked on his noodles in surprise. “Oh - no, no, n-not at all! I mean, it’s not like I wanted to see him again, but...I’d hate to think what would’ve happened if you’d gone by yourself.”

Klavier hummed. “...then let’s not think about it, ja?” Just like that, he was smiling again. This time, it looked off somehow. “Herr Blackquill told me Taka made a nest in your hair the other day. Your forehead makes quite the landing zone, doesn’t it?”

“You shut it or I’m stealing your egg,” Apollo threatened, elbowing him. Klavier laughed, making a point to eat the remaining half of his soft-boiled egg before Apollo could snatch it from his bowl. Hesitating, Apollo set down his chopsticks. “Actually, y’know what? Never mind my ‘never mind’ - are we really not gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Klavier reached for his tea. “I asked if you regretted coming with me, you said nein. What else is there to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, everything?” Apollo shot back, trying not to raise his voice. He didn’t want Klavier to think he was angry at him - after all, for once, he really wasn’t. He just wanted something, anything, aside from Klavier’s too-bright eyes and his indifferent smile. “Gavin, he - I - ”

“I think I liked it better when you called me ‘Klavier’,” he commented, taking a long sip.

“Don’t change the subject,” Apollo said, frowning. “Look, I-I’m not saying we have to talk about it now, but are you...okay?”

“I’ll be better once I get that massage,” Klavier said airily, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I should book it now before I forget. Personal massage therapists can be so finicky, you know? Especially when I want something specific.”

Apollo narrowed his eyes. “I see what you’re doing, Gavin.”

“Making an appointment? Ja, Forehead, very observant of you.” Klavier turned to look at him, then winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll have my full attention again in a moment. I know you’re desperate for it. Just be patient, bitte.”

“You are impossible to talk to,” Apollo grouched, picking up his chopsticks again. “Fine, I give up. I guess I won’t, quote-unquote, ‘get to know you’ after all.”

“Hey.” The sudden bite in Klavier’s voice made Apollo jump. “Don’t do that.”

“I - ” Apollo shrunk in his seat, simultaneously stunned and subdued. “...sorry. Sorry, that crossed a line. It’s just - you’re…”

“I hate it when you sound like him.” Klavier turned back to his own food, pocketing his phone more forcefully than necessary. “It happens more often than you think, you know.”

“I...didn’t realize.” Apollo tried, and failed, to clear the lump in his throat. They ate in silence for the next few minutes, painfully aware of how their legs were pressed together, how they kept brushing against each other’s elbows and shoulders. “Listen, um...I know it might not seem like I’m on your side most of the time, but...if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. No judgement.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Forehead,” Klavier said, though not unkindly. “Anyway, I won’t bother lying to you, I won’t insult your intelligence. I think I do enough of that in court. So...I’d rather not talk about it at all. Why bother?”

“Why bother?” Apollo repeated, confused. “You don’t wanna, I dunno, process your feelings or whatever it is you’re s’posed to do?”

“And then what?” Klavier sounded more bitter than angry now. “Talking about my feelings won’t make them hurt less.”

“I...guess not,” Apollo said slowly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Right now, it seemed like nothing would bring Klavier any kind of comfort. “...besides, it’d be kinda hypocritical of me to ask someone to open up, huh?”

“I wouldn’t know. I...haven’t had the chance to get to know you, either.” Klavier finished his tea, then wiped his mouth. Another uncomfortable silence passed between them. “After all, it seems like neither of us is particularly forthcoming.”

Apollo shot him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah, that, uh, that about sums it up.”

Klavier then hung his head, almost as if he were ashamed of something, possibly himself. “...sorry, Apollo. I don’t mean to take this out on you, it’s just...I’m not used to this.”

“Visiting your brother?” Apollo guessed.

“Talking about mein Bruder.” Klavier gave Mr. Eldoon a grateful smile when he wordlessly came over to refill his tea. “Or talking to you, whichever one sounds better. Or, you know, worse.”

“Try all of the above?” Apollo suggested, managing to get a short laugh out of Klavier. “Hey, I’m just keeping our options open. And, um...it’s okay, Gavin, you’re fine. Things got...really rough back there. I don’t blame you for being...you know.”

Klavier nodded slowly, his expression inscrutable. Suddenly, he sat up like he’d just remembered something. “Ach, look at me - I still haven’t said danke schön for today!”

“Oh. You’re, uh, welcome?” Apollo turned back to his food and began shovelling noodles into his mouth, his face growing steadily warm; he wasn’t sure how else to respond.

“Wait, I haven’t actually done it yet,” Klavier chuckled, the light in his eyes gradually returning. “Danke schön, Herr Forehead, for coming with me to see Kristoph. For...cutting him off after he said...you know…”

“...that.” Apollo cleared his throat. “Yeah, I know.” They both went silent again, though it wasn’t nearly as stifling this time. Klavier waited patiently while Apollo finished his ramen, humming idly to himself. He seemed to be in better spirits now, though there was still a fog in the air that hadn’t quite lifted.

“I can tell you still have questions,” Klavier observed, right as Apollo was taking his last bite.

“I-I’m not gonna push it!” Apollo protested. “You don’t wanna talk, you don’t have to talk. Simple as that.”

“Pick the easiest one, then, and I’ll answer it. Just so you don’t walk away empty-handed.” Klavier’s smile was pleasant, friendly, as if he’d merely offered to play a game of twenty questions to pass the time instead. Apollo stared at him for a little too long, still unsure of how to figure Klavier out, if he’d ever figured him out.

“Okay. Um…” Dozens of questions seemed to flood Apollo’s mind all at once, none of which seemed “easy”. None of them seemed remotely appropriate to talk about here and now, not while they sat on rickety seats at a noodle stand on a colder-than-usual Saturday afternoon. He supposed there was one question that seemed less invasive in comparison, only he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer and all it implied. Apollo sucked in a breath. “Was he right about you, er…‘finding someone’?”

Klavier blinked. “...are you trying to ask me if I’m single?”

“Gavin, I swear to - ”

“Because I’d rather not get into it,” Klavier continued. “Ja, I don’t have anyone. But I do have someone. Someone who means a lot to me, even if...even though they barely give me the time of day. And...that’s all I want you to know.” His voice cracked slightly.

“I...oh.” Apollo was more confused than ever. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“I can’t believe that’s what you went with,” Klavier said, laughing quietly, more to himself than to Apollo. “Of all the things to ask about, achtung. My relationship status, Forehead, really?”

“Apparently.” Apollo finished his tea as well, then sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Well, this has been...awkward.”

Klavier couldn’t help but snort. “You don’t say.” He then softened. “I’m still grateful you’re here all the same. Even though it made you uncomfortable, you stuck around. Danke again, I mean it.”

“You needed someone to look out for you,” Apollo shrugged. “That’s why you asked me, right? Not ‘cos we don’t hang out enough or whatever that bullshit reason was that you gave me, but ‘cos...I-I was there. When it happened. I made it happen.”

Klavier stood, averting his eyes so Apollo couldn’t see his face. “You could’ve said no. To be honest, I was expecting it.”

“I’m sorry you expected it,” Apollo said, his voice barely above a whisper. For some reason, he felt as if he couldn’t speak at his usual boisterous volume. “And I’m not saying, y’know, sign me up again, but...if you ever go back...let me know, okay?”

Klavier merely hummed, then tossed a handful of bills in Mr. Eldoon’s direction before Apollo could even pull out his wallet. He wordlessly started heading across to the street where his car was parked, Apollo trailing after him. “What about you, Forehead?”

“Huh? What about me?” Apollo asked. He was really starting to get mood whiplash, though it definitely wasn’t the first time today or even the first time in the last ten minutes, not by a long shot.

Klavier smirked. “Have you…‘found someone’?”

“Wh-what the hell does that have to do with anything?!” Apollo exclaimed. “And even if I did, I-I wouldn’t tell you!”

“Then let’s keep our secrets, shall we?” Klavier sounded strangely serious all of a sudden; it sent a shiver up Apollo’s spine. “Let me take you home now, ja? I think we’ve had more than enough of...everything.”

“Agreed,” Apollo said, getting back into Klavier’s car.

The drive back to Apollo’s apartment would’ve been completely silent, if not for Klavier’s insistence on blasting the radio at nearly ear-splitting volume. It didn’t leave Apollo much room to be alone with his thoughts, though he supposed at a time like this, he was glad to not have the opportunity. He snuck the occasional glance over at Klavier, who seemed to be back to his usual self - drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, head bobbing along in time with the classic rock they were listening to, lifting a hand every so often to fiddle with his bangs. If Apollo didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought this morning never happened. He found himself wondering, of all the countless number of times he’d been around Klavier before, if he really was as calm, cool, and collected as he seemed to be.

“Have a good weekend, Herr Forehead,” Klavier said once he stopped outside of Apollo’s building.

“You too,” Apollo said, getting out of the car. He hesitated the moment his feet hit the sidewalk; he turned back to look at Klavier. “Hey, Gavin? Good luck with your...someone. There’s no point in me telling you, y’know, that you should think about moving on to someone who actually cares about you, ‘cos…” He swallowed. “...that’s just not how it works. You just - you end up feeling your feelings before you even realize you have feelings. And it sucks. Like, a lot.”

Klavier smiled ruefully. “Eloquent as ever, I see.”

“Gavin - ”

“But I appreciate the sentiment all the same,” Klavier finished, grinning. “Speaking from experience, are you?”

Apollo glared. “Gavin,” he repeated, more bitingly this time. Klavier merely laughed, tossing his head back as he did. His blindingly white smile was even brighter in the sunlight; everything about it seemed familiar to Apollo somehow.

“Ja, ja, I hear you,” Klavier said, still chuckling. “Auf Wiedersehen, Apollo.”

“See you around,” Apollo replied, waving as Klavier pulled away from the curb. He let out a long, desperately-needed exhale, then turned and headed into his building. Their conversation still felt disjointed, unfinished, and he knew he had to be okay with that. He had to, or he was never not going to think about Klavier and his indifferent smile ever again. Right as he reached his door, his phone pinged, informing him that he’d gotten a text message.

maybe we’ll get to know each other someday, ja?

Apollo bit back a smile, then sent a reply before heading inside.

I think I’d actually like that.

_____

a/n: Welcome to my third entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the first of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. So...this got angsty. Someday, I'd like to write a fuller version of this premise; I feel like Dual Destinies implies that Apollo and Klavier are closer than the way Apollo makes things seem, so I can definitely picture this happening. Also, I've mentioned this before, but I weirdly enjoy writing Kristoph despite him being, you know, Kristoph.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #this got a liiittle angsty #also to the lovelies who run the archive blog (i hope this doesn't sound rude)#but i think my day two fic hasn't been archived yet! just letting y'all know #hope everyone's doing well!!

19 notes · View notes

bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years

Text

Black lace and property damage

Summary: With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side. Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Characters: Bucky x Reader Warnings: SMUT, 18+. Sweet sex, awkward sex, some dirty sex, some sex on a car. Basically sex. Swearing. Bucky wearing a white t-shirt and dog tags. My sketchy automotive knowledge.

A/N: This story is sort of an ode to anyone struggling to make time for your person. Life gets busy, so don’t be afraid to get creative. Also sometimes sex goes smooth and perfect, but often it comes with mishaps and giggles. Both ways are great, Bucky says just roll with it!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

The porch light above the front door is out.

Was he supposed to change that before he left?

“I’m not touching it Bucky, there are spiders up there. Big ones. The kind that give you rabies.”

“Spiders don’t have rabies.”

“No one’s ever proven that.”

Dammit. Yeah, he was.

Picturing you stumbling up the porch, using the pathetic flashlight on your phone to light the way, Bucky feels like a world class, Grade A jackass. He needs to make it up to you.

Good thing he has plenty of ideas for that.

“Please be home,” he mutters, “please be home, please dear god be fucking home.”

Fingers crossed, he kicks the door open and calls out a hopeful hello.

An empty echo returns.

Bucky blows out a frustrated breath.

Figures.

Slogging down the dark hallway, he slings his bag on the kitchen table with a thud. Grenade pins, bullet casings, fun size candy bar wrappers, and handfuls of beer bottle caps rattle loose in the army green canvas and he grimaces.

One of these days, maybe, just fucking maybe, he’ll convince Natasha to stop using his bags as her garbage bin.

Ignoring that disaster zone (a problem for future Bucky), he wanders over to the sink, where he spies a small tableau on the counter. Propped up beside his favorite coffee mug, the one with sparkly pink letters proclaiming “Bitch, I’m Fabulous”, is a folded piece of paper, his name scrawled across the front.

He flips it open.

“Hey Bucky Bear. Don’t let your sexy ass fall asleep before I get home, I have a surprise!”

Drawn under your bubbly letters, he finds two stick figures entangled in an outrageously lewd sex act. Tracing tender fingers over the very obviously male stick figure (you never were very subtle), he grins so hard his cheeks ache. Leaning on the counter, he sniffs the letter because he’s a sentimental sap and it smells like your Cherry-Almond lotion, and drops his head in his arms.

“So tired,” he whines softly, voice muffled against sleek granite.

Three weeks. That was the last mission. Three weeks, even though Steve guaranteed Bucky three days max. Of course, two days into the mission Bucky remembered that Steve Rogers is an accomplished liar, so instead he spent three exhausting weeks dodging bullets, rewashing all his underwear, and hysterically rationing his bag of fun size candy bars.

Finally home, he wants to forget everything and sink into the post-mission domesticity he dreams about when he’s stuck in some dank motel on the corner of Fuck This and No One Cares. The routine is simple. A scalding hot shower, burrito wrapping himself in the feather duvet, making out with you for a few hours, taking a break to eat some pizza, and then fucking you so hard he breaks the brand new headboard he made for you last month (actually the third headboard he’s made...a fact he smugly reports to anyone and everyone).

And after all that fun, he wants to sleep. Maybe two full days. Or five. Tops.

Is that asking too much?

“No,” he sighs out loud. “It’s not.”

Carefully folding the cartoon and your sweet message, he kisses the paper and tucks it in his back pocket.

No way he’s falling asleep before he sees you. Nope. Nada. Negative. Totally not happening.

Pepping himself up, he goes to work, whizzing through his homecoming task list.

Blood-stained tac clothes go in the washer with three cups of bleach. Guns and knives are wiped down and polished. The contents of the dirty green canvas bag are unceremoniously trashed. The spider infested porch light is changed (with only three furry sightings). The shower is set to a blistering temp and he hangs out in there for an hour, soaping his hair into a foamy mohawk, belting out a few showtunes with his shampoo bottle microphone.

Scrubbed fresh and clean, he flops on the bed with his Starkpad and opens up Netflix, searching for something to keep him awake. Several scrolls later, he finds Brooklyn 99 and settles in for a laugh.

Confident in his ability to resist the appealing pull of sleep scratching at his brain, he takes a slurp of the Super Double Big Gulp sized coffee on his nightstand and stretches his eyes wide open.

Staying awake. Piece of cake.

Ten minutes later, Bucky’s fast asleep.

*****

When his eyes pop open, the room is dark. He feels tipsy, sleep drunk on his first uninterrupted hours of rest in weeks.

Beside him, he feels the cozy pressure of another body. Glancing down, he finds you curled under the sheets at his side, your face smushed against his arm, steady breaths fogging the gleaming metal.

Asleep.

Bucky grits his teeth. Squeezes his eyes shut. One thing. You asked him to do one thing.

God. Dammit.

Furious with his lame old man ass, he almost wakes you up. Almost. But then he swallows that desire and thinks.

Before he got married, Bucky read every relationship advice book under the sun. He gets the importance of keeping the romance alive. He knows you need to cherish your person, make them a priority, shower them with love. He knows. He gets it. He watches Oprah, for fuck’s sake. Relationships take work.

But lately? This is life.

With your messy work hours, Bucky’s consistently inconsistent mission schedule, and those basic life tasks you’re both ignoring (when was the last time he actually bought a new toothbrush?), the simple act of just being together has been shunted to the side.

Bucky’s officially starting to panic.

Although, he muses, eyes lingering on the innocent curve of your mouth, the chaos has forced both of you to get more…creative.

He grins.

It was you who instigated it the first time. He was lying in a dingy motel bed when you nervously offered.

“Hey, um…do think maybe you’d…like…would you…uh…”

“Spit it out babe.”

“Doyouwannatryphonesex?”

An anxious slur so fast, he nearly misses the question. He remembers that beat of hesitation, before you dove in headfirst, telling him in obscenely explicit detail exactly what you wanted to do to him. He was so shocked he dropped the phone and had to naked crawl under the grimy mattress to fish it out.

He must’ve jerked off five times that night. Replaying your filthy words. Remembering the quiet whimpers as you came on your fingers, gasping out his name. What a treat.

Sexting soon followed, accompanied by a plethora of nudes. None from you of course, because as you always remind him, you’re a lady, but Bucky? He gets irrational joy from sending them. They come in a variety of close-ups and poses, several which Sam accidentally discovered when he walked in on Bucky prancing around naked, searching for his best angle.

Sam always knocks now.

But sometimes words and pictures aren’t enough. Sometimes you need the soothing weight of someone in your arms. The scent of sweaty skin beneath your nose. Hot breaths of pleasure in your ear and the touch of a cool tongue licking across a heated body.

Sometimes he just needs you.

Could he wake you up? Sure. He knows you wouldn’t mind, you’ve told him a thousand times. But he also knows how tired you’ve been, and he can’t bring himself to shake you awake, selfishly stealing those bits of recovery you need.

So instead, he searches for something to keep him occupied.

He tries reading Game of Thrones again and gets nowhere. Thinks yet again someone needs to get George R.R. Martin an editor.

He flicks on his phone and covertly watches PornHub on mute. Seriously debates whether he can get away with jerking off while you’re sleeping because hey, Bucky Barnes is nothing if not stealthy.

He stares up at the ceiling and tries to see how long he can hold his breath. He gets 2 minutes and 8 seconds (a new record) before giving up.

In the end, he rolls onto his side stares intently at you. Wills you to wake up on your own. Come on baby, please.

But nothing works, and when sleep still doesn’t come, he decides to be productive. Crawling carefully from the bed, he smothers a laugh when you curl instantly into the warm mattress dip of his body, burrowing further under the blankets and unconsciously stealing his pillow. Most mornings Bucky wakes up hanging off the bed, no blankets or pillows to his name, while you’re swathed in comfort, cold toes shoved beneath his belly.

Maybe he should be annoyed. Except every time he looks at you, he forgets how to scowl.

Love is weird.

Rummaging silently through the closet, he unearths a threadbare pair of jeans and an oil stained t-shirt, slips into his worn leather boots. He drops a light kiss on your forehead, brushing a finger down the curve of your neck. Smiles to himself when you snuffle a quiet snore.

And he heads out the backdoor, down the weatherworn brick to the garage out back.

It was an added bonus when he bought the house. An unanticipated domestic perk. Hell, he never thought he’d find someone would actually date him, let alone someone who wanted to marry him and buy a house with him and accept his penchant for hoarding things in a rickety old garage (come on, I grew up in the Depression and I need this, he whines every time you take him to Target).

Thank god you said yes. He’s the luckiest jerk in the world.

Flicking on the garage light, Bucky still gets a little thrill. The entire place is an homage to eclectic, random artifacts, from the box of ugly 1970s vases he found at a flea market, to the fishing equipment he insisted on buying and has yet to use, to the sack of broken seashells you drunkenly collected on your honeymoon in Costa Rica.

In the midst of the swirl sits his pride and joy. Cherry red paint, black leather seats, a tad dusty, full of potential.

The 1969 Camaro looks like a teenage wet dream.

He remembers the day he brought it home, that surge of macho pride when your eyes lit up. After you slapped his ass and told him how sexy the car was, he reveled in your admiration for maybe 10 seconds, before hauling you back to the house and under the sheets. Took several hours before you both came up for air.

That was a good time, he thinks dreamily.

The car attracted his friends as well. Sam and Steve brought over a celebratory case of beer and stood by while Bucky explained the changes he had planned. Steve gave a few sage nods, while Sam helpfully threw out words like fuel injector now and then. Neither had a fucking clue what was happening, but Bucky graciously let them fake it.

Tony also saw the car once. Got a fervent gleam in his eye and started to say the phrase jet fuel, before Bucky ushered him out the door. Tony doesn’t get to see the car anymore.

There are still plenty of fixes to make, but for tonight he takes it easy. Flips on the ancient radio perched above the workbench and flops down on a rolling seat, sliding under the Camaro to tinker around. He goes to work, lets the crackle of the radio and the mechanical puzzle lull him into focus mode.

So intent on the task at hand, he barely hears the garage door opening.

The click of a shoe alerts him too late and he freezes, gripping his wrench tight. Muscles tense, garage floor plans and fight scenarios flooding his brain.

“Bucky? Do you have a sec?”

His breath whooshes in relief at your voice. A silly grin bubbles up because you’re finally awake, until he tilts his head sideways, peering out from under the car to see your feet.

Black high heels.

Stomach sinking, Bucky closes his eyes. Back to work then. Motherfucker. He missed his chance again.

Swallowing down the bitter disappointment, he croaks out a plea.

“Hey babe, do you gotta go back to the office so soon? Can you just - “

Click click and you step between his legs. Firm hands clutch the oil stained fabric at his knees and you pull. The seat rolls easily and he slides free, squinting up at you in the dim light.

The words die on his lips.

Black high heels, yes.

And.

Lacy black underwear, the sides held together with thick satin ribbons. A lacy black bra, your breasts threatening to spill out.

Gorgeous, devilish smile.

Fingering the wide satin bow between your breasts, you tease a light tug and Bucky starts sweating like a virgin on prom night. His wrench slips from numb fingers, thunking him in the nuts and clattering away.

“Shit,” he grunts. There’s a moment of confusion on whether the fresh ache in his balls is from the punch of the wrench, or tantalizing swathes of skin before him, but then you say his name and he figures it out pretty fucking fast.

“Hey Bucky Bear,” you purr, in that raspy voice he loves. “Still want that surprise I promised?”

Palming himself roughly, Bucky adjusts the suddenly tight front of his jeans, eyeing you with a lusty smile. Fuck yes, he wants his surprise. He wants everything about you.

“You bet your sweet ass I do. What’d you have in mind?”

“I have some ideas,” you say playfully. Stepping closer, slipping your fingers into his silky hair, he leans into the touch. “And I promise we’ll get to them. But first, how about you stay down there and maybe show me how much you missed me?”

Torn, Bucky looks down at his oil stained fingers. They spasm, clutching the edge of the seat so tight the metal bends. His voice drops several octaves.

“Babe, I - shit, I’m gonna kill the mood here, but my hands are all dirty, I should wash ‘em first,” he apologizes. Rolling your eyes, you shift closer until the edge of his nose is a mere inch from the delicate lace panties.

“I’m not asking for your hands, soldier. You have a mouth. Get creative.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. Sassy and domineering? And nearly naked?

Hell yes, his dick shouts. Here we fucking go.

Warm and cool, tentative fingertips press into the smooth skin behind your knees, stroking higher until he’s plucking the satin ribbons and pulling. It feels like Christmas morning when the knot slowly breaks apart, whispers of satin and lace floating to the ground.

Nosing against your core, he inhales, long and deep. A low growl rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips tight and heat explodes across your skin when his tongue presses into your folds, licking over your clit.

“God,” your moan is dark, desperately breathless, “keep - that feels so good, Bucky, keep going, please, been way too long.”

Bucky gives a fervent nod of agreement, strands of his dark hair tickling your thighs. When was the last time he did this? Nah, you know what? If he has to ask, it’s been too long.

From now on, the only correct answer should be every damn day.

He feels you moving his head, guiding him exactly where you need him most, and he hums hungrily. Shoves his tongue deeper. He adores when you take charge, using him, his mouth or his fingers or his dick, to get yourself off. He loves it, dreams about it, wishes you would let him film it just one time (because sometimes missions last three weeks not three days Steve).

But until then, he devotes himself to making it perfect because you deserve perfect.

Fast, firm flicks of the tongue. Long, leisurely strokes, licking you slow and sweet. Rough pressure, his plush pink lips sucking tight around your clit. So good.

Your eyes fall closed as his tongue moves faster, quicker, pushing you closer closer closer -

No, that won’t do. Cold metal lightly pinches your ass, a bid for attention. Chest heaving, you open your eyes.

Bright eyed and eager, Bucky gazes up from between your legs, looking thoroughly debauched. White t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders, dark hair mussed in your fingers, an obvious erection straining his jeans.

So close, you’re so close, right on the edge, just another second -

He knows, of course. Could always play you like a fiddle. He cocks a challenging eyebrow, sucks your clit between his teeth -

“Oh god, Bucky, fuck,” you moan. Weak knees buckle and his hands clutch your ass, keeping you upright and open. He never stops licking, swirling that talented tongue to draw out the bursts and shocks of pleasure until you’re gasping. When he’s wrung every drop from you, he kisses the sensitive bud and tips his head back with an arrogant smirk.

Legs like jelly, you promptly collapse into his lap.

The momentum of the fall sends the rolling seat flying. Busy being chivalrous and keeping you from tumbling headfirst onto dirty concrete, Bucky lets the wheels send him whizzing backward. His head smacks the door handle with a sharp thwack.

“Ow,” he grunts.

“Sorry,” you pant. Struggling for breath, wrapped in the haze of post orgasm bliss, you cuddle against him, soaking up his warmth. “Want me to rub it?”

Massaging his head, he wrinkles his nose. “Maybe. Depends on what you’re offering to rub.”

“Dealer’s choice,” you sass, and Bucky barks out a laugh. Wandering hands skim lightly over your shoulders, fingering the straps of the lacy bra, feather light trails along your collarbone, to the satin bow between your breaks. Tugging impatiently, he smiles when it unwinds, your breasts spilling free.

“Well, how about I take my pants off, we get in the backseat of this car, and you rub whatever you find.”

“Intriguing. What happens after I finish rubbing whatever…pokes my fancy?”

Bucky dips his head, takes your nipple between his lips, sucking gently. The feel of his wet mouth has you squirming closer until he pauses to offer an option.

“Maybe we fuck like a couple horny teenagers?”

“You’re killing me with the romance here, Barnes,” you say drily and he chuckles. “But I was maybe thinking something different.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

Licking a lazy strip between your breasts, he kisses up, up, up, until his tongue finds the hammering pulse of your heartbeat. Bemused, he hears your voice falter, before bravely offering your idea.

“I was thinking maybe I sit on the hood of your pretty red car, and – and you spread my legs and fuck me so good, I can’t walk for a week.”

Startled, Bucky pulls back. Excitement explodes in his chest.

“You - really? Seriously? That’s what you want?”

“Yep,” you confirm, palpable relief at successfully executing the dirty request. “That’s exactly what I want.”

Bucky plants a sloppy kiss on the tip of your nose. Wiggles his eyebrows and winks.

“Well god damn. You got it sweet cheeks.”

Wasting no time, he pushes off the ground and you kick your heels off, wrapping your legs around his waist. He huffs out a blissful moan when you suck a string of hickeys down his neck, grinding against you as he stumbles to the front of the car. Without thinking, he drops you on the shiny red hood and -

“Cold!”

Icy metal meets your bare ass. There’s a panicked scramble back into his arms and he manages to catch you, until your flailing upper cut cracks his jaw. It sends him off balance, tripping forward to smack his kneecaps on the Camaro’s fancy new grill. A grating screech tears the air and the grill rattles to the floor, the metallic clang bouncing off the walls.

Flinching, you peer up at him as it fades away.

Bucky’s nose twitches.

In all his fantasies (and there are many, because you are one sexy piece of ass), this shit never happens. Every sexcapade is effortlessly smooth, sensual and steamy, where you both look great, not a hair out of place, no oil-stained hands or unintended destruction of expensive vintage cars.

In reality, it seems like something always goes sideways. One of his nipples gets gouged by your fingernail or the silk from your negligee gets caught in the plates of his arm, or one of his perfectly aimed thrusts sends you both toppling off the bed. Sometimes he wonders if this is just the two of you? Do other people have perfectly orchestrated sex lives? Is porn not a true mirror of real life?

Is porn a lie?

Maybe he should watch more porn and form a more educated opinion.

For now, he takes in your crestfallen expression, vehemently shaking his head when you try to apologize.

“Buck, I’m sorry, I -“

Holding up a stern hand, he stops you cold. Sets you on your feet, gallantly whipping off his shirt, and spreading it on the shiny red paint. This time when he sets you on the hood, you lay back until the familiar scent of his cologne hugs you close. Bucky lifts your feet, propping each on the hood, spreading your legs open. He leans in close, a pink flush spreading over his chest, crawling up his throat, blue eyes turning dark.

“Listen to me. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You’re worth more than this old junker.” A crooked smile tilts his mouth, his voice as soft as the lips now brushing yours. “You’re priceless. You understand?”

“Okay,” you murmur. Fingers dance lightly up the hard planes of his stomach, wrapping around the chain of his old dog tags. “I understand.”

Bucky nods, watching your eyes drift down, drinking him up. He lives for that look. Sets him on fire, to watch you ogle him. When your eyes skate down his right side, he flexes his forearm a bit, because he knows it turns you on.

A swift tug of the chain and he dips easily, mouth slanting over yours. There’s a faint sound of teeth clacking together, and he stifles a laugh at your excitement. Deep kisses, stoking that simmering fire sitting right below the surface. Your lips part and he slides inside, curling his tongue around yours, pulling away to lick along the corner of your mouth, to suck your bottom lip between his teeth.

The thought appears, same as when he had his mouth between your legs. How long has it been since the two of you just made out like this? Same answer? Too fucking long?

This is definitely happening more often.

He feels your eager fingers reach for the button of his jeans, popping it open, slipping your hand inside. Cool fingers wrap tight around his cock, the other hand wandering down to squeeze a handful of his ass. Bucky hurriedly shimmies his pants to his knees, sets both hands on the car and leans forward, tipping his face down, touching his forehead to yours. Blue eyes flutter closed, breath hitching while he concentrates on the feel of your capable hands, slow strokes along his length, slicker with each tug.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he grits out. “Can you - damn that’s good - can you, there, bit lower -“

Ragged pants melt into a low groan when you slip your hand from the death grip on his ass to cup his balls, rolling them against your palm.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, yeah, yes, fuck yes, just like that,” he hisses, thrusting into your hands. “Can you - can you pull just a little-“

He stammers the question, ignoring your amused hum. It was a quirk, one he discovered early in the relationship. It came out of the blue, a bashful request during a romp in the sheets, but for some reason, Bucky has a thing for having his balls tugged. Not hard (which was also discovered after an unconsciously rough yank had him squealing in pain), but more of a soft squeeze, followed by a slow pull.

Like how you squeeze an overripe banana, he had explained later, gingerly massaging his balls. Not so hard it squishes.

Many entertaining attempts later, and he swears you have the move patented. Stroking his dick faster, your thumb presses over his balls, before a careful pull. Tipping his head back, Bucky stares glass eyed at the ceiling, lost in pleasure, pushing himself into your firm grip.

“Feel good?” you murmur.

“Yeah. Yes, so good, so god damn good ,” he chokes out. Faster, harder, faster - and then a strangled gasp and panicked blue eyes catch yours. “Wait, too good, it’s too good! Don’t wanna come yet, hang on! Need to be inside you first.”

He grabs your wrists, the thwarted sting of a denied orgasm obvious in the grind of his teeth. Both of you look down to where your hands are wrapped around him, one still kneading his balls, the other curled around the velvety hot skin of his cock.

“Okay,” you say, looking him up and down. “Fine, but - you’re so sexy, Bucky. And I love your balls.”

Bucky nods furiously, gulping a deep lungful of air. His ass cheeks are twitching.

“I love that you love them, I really do. But babe, I need you to let go of my balls or I’ll come all over your hand,” he rasps, wiggling away. Releasing him, your hands run up his chest, twining around his neck, dragging his sweat damp chest flush against you.

“If I must,” you agree, smiling into his lips. Bucky relaxes into you, the slow melt of tongues follows, the kind where a kiss bounces around, until it finds the perfect rhythm. His hands trace up the line of your arms, unlocking your fingers and pulling them free. Brushing his thumbs over your wrists, he bends close, kisses your knuckles.

And then he folds your arms above your head, pinning them down.

“Keep them there, alright? Don’t move until I say you can.”

“Kinky. Yes sir,” you breathe. He smirks.

“You’d better watch it, you little deviant. I might get used to that.”

“Sorry…sir.”

Pulling you further down the hood, he rubs his cock between your legs, sliding himself between your folds until a slick sheen coats his skin. It startles a grunt from you when he abruptly shoves inside, sinking deep until his hips press flush to yours.

He waits. Has to wait actually, because its been a long damn time and if he’s not careful he’s going to embarrass himself before he even gets started and holy shit, is this even real life? Is he dreaming?

Splayed out on the hood of his car, legs wide open, breasts wet from his tongue, black lace and crumpled satin ribbons. Arms pinned above the luscious skin bared just for him. Bucky stares between your legs, dry mouthed and dizzy.

“Come on, Bucky, please? Fuck me, please fuck me, I missed you so much.”

How could he ever resist this? You naked, writhing against the vivid red of his Camaro, moaning for him to fuck you, with his cock buried in your -

“Aw fucking hell,” he mutters. After so many weeks apart, he knows full well this won’t last long. It’s a damn good thing he has more than a few rounds in him.

Cracking his neck, rolling his shoulders back, he digs thick fingers into your thighs, pulls back nice and slow. He waits. Waits. Waits a bit longer because he likes to be an asshole and hear you beg.

“Bucky, come on -”

And he plunges into you, burying himself in the tight, silky heat of your cunt. Warm up over, no slow start. The pace he sets is rough, so deep he feels the pleasure licking down his spine and into his toes. Over and over, he slams into you until one particularly sharp thrust presses the tip of his cock against that perfect spot inside and you arch up with a broken cry. Hands scrabble above your heard, searching for anything to hold onto, finding something flexible.

With a plastic snap, the windshield wiper blade breaks off in your hand.

Bucky stutters to a halt, blinking sweat from his eyes when he sees the look of horror on your face. The apology is still forming when he snatches the plastic from your fingers, throwing it aside.

“Don’t care,” he grunts. Giving you no time to argue, he wraps his hands behind your knees and raises your hips, fucking into you faster. The filthy echo of sweat slick skin accompanies his breathless order. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.”

A frantic agreement and one hand slips between your legs, the other cupping your breast. Frantic circles over the swollen bud, trembling fingers plucking at a pebbled nipple. Bucky watches greedily, eyes flickering back and forth, memorizing those things that bring you pleasure, fantastically dirty memories to replay on a rainy day.

“Bucky,” desperate fingers rub your clit faster. “Keep going, please keep - keep doing that, I’m close, I’m so close, I’m -“

Sharp and sweet and unexpected, the orgasm crashes into you. Arching up, the low moan tears free, and Bucky slows, hypnotized by the sight of you shuddering beneath him.

“There you go, that’s it,” he urges hoarsely, before surging forward and capturing your lips in a wild kiss. Two more pumps of his hips and he stops, grinding against you until he comes with a heavy groan.

Silence fills the room, broken only with the sounds of harsh breaths and the wet rush of his heartbeat thumping in his ears. He rests his forehead between your breasts, listening to the staccato beat of your quick breaths, until you struggle up onto your elbows, pushing his sweaty hair away from his face.

“So I broke your car.”

He says nothing, but a moment later his shoulders begin to shake and suddenly he’s laughing, great rushing wheezes as he struggles for breath. Raising his head, he finds you nervously squinting down at him. He stretches up, presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I got insurance. Just need to check my coverage for mildly destructive ‘I missed you’ sex.”

“You might consider expanding that policy. I’m just saying,” you suggest with a giggle and he snorts.

Quiet contentment blankets the stuffy garage, both of you basking in that tingly afterglow. Folding your hands behind his neck, you draw him close and Bucky nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Been tough lately,” he whispers, mouthing gently along your throat. “Trying to find time together.”

Nodding slowly, your smile turns wistful.

“Yeah…guess it makes any time we get even better. Right? It doesn’t matter to me what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Bucky feels a lump in his throat (the kind that could easily dissolve into manly super soldier tears), and he gathers you in his arms, tucking you against his chest. When he answers, his voice cracks just a bit.

“Someone’s a sentimental sap.”

He hears your muffled laugh against his chest, feels you bite at his collarbone and he chuckles.

“I love you Bucky. And I’m really sorry I murdered your car.”

“I love you too, babe. I’m glad you came down here. Especially in that outfit.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Fuck yes I did. What spurred that idea, hmm?”

“I just don’t want to lose our spark,” you admit, snuggling closer. “When things get so busy, it’s easy to let things like this slide, and I don’t want you to - get bored, I guess. With us.”

Bucky thinks about all his relationship advice articles and the fact that he sometimes even prints them out and goes through with a yellow highlighter to capture the key points. Hearing your soft concern makes him fall even more in love with you.

Because this is important. This relationship, this love, this spark he was lucky enough to find with you, it’s the most important thing in his world. You are the most important thing in his world.

Brushing a knuckle down your cheek, he coaxes your chin up.

“I know it’s tough, always being on different schedules, but I want you to know, I’m always gonna love you and I’m always gonna want you. Nothing changes that. And if you ever doubt just how much I genuinely want to bang you all night long, then you say something. Deal?”

He boops your nose and you grin.

“Deal.”

“And honey, not that I’m complaining, trust me, but you don’t need to dress sexy to get me all reved up,” he shrugs. “You do that just by looking at me.”

“You do know how to charm the pants off a lady, Barnes.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Swings you up in his arms and calms your startled yelp with a kiss.

“Damn straight. Now how about we give that backseat a try. I think you mentioned wanting to rub something back there?”

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bitsmasterlist

5K notes · View notes

letitrainathousandflames · 3 years

Note

ILL INDULGE!! Alpha-17 + escaped from Empire + being comforted from a nightmare?? I've got more once I finish some mother's day things!!

THANK YOU! Here goes:

Rating: Teens and Up

Tags: PTSD, Nightmares, Crying, Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Reader/Clone

Ever since the two of you had moved in together, Alpha-17 had been sleeping on your couch rather than your bed, despite your insistence for him to join you in the bedroom.

Don’t get it wrong, he would give you everything you could want and more as the loving boyfriend he was, and this was literally the only thing that bothered you about him.

(“I’m a noisy sleeper,” he would say every time, “I’ll end up keeping you up. Can’t do that to my cyare, now can I?”)

The two of you have been living together since... well, since he had to escape the Empire and you had met him, working as a bounty hunter so he wouldn’t starve and maybe be able to eventually pay for a one-way trip to the outer rim, as far from the capital as possible.

When he asked where he could find shelter for the night for fifty credits at the bar you were working, you looked at this man, his unshaven face and exhausted eyes and told him that not even the cheapest places would take such small pay... but he was free to crash at your couch for the night.

And so he did. Thank the stars, he accepted your offer to crash at your place whenever he needed or his job took him close to your planet again, and every time the two of you met - including the one occasion you had to help him fix some nasty work-related wounds - you grew closer. One night after a few sips of Corellian wine you ended up sharing a long, tender kiss and before you knew it, you were straddling him, grinding on his codpiece and-

Well, let’s just say that your friendship to the clone had some extra benefits after that.

The steamy nights of mindless sex led to long conversations afterwards, and lazy mornings with breakfast in bed, the whole process so organic you took a while to realize that you two were no longer two strangers sharing the same space and occasionally fucking each other senseless: you were dating.

Which brought you back to now.

“I’m your girlfriend, Alpha.” You cross your arms, rubbing at them with hurt clear in your voice “I wanna sleep together. Please, I swear I won’t mind some snoring.”

Alpha looks away from you, fixing up a pillow on the couch and the blue blanket you would always lend him for the night. His entire demeanor is awkward, his jaw set and his throat bobbing as he swallows down, gritting his teeth.

“It’s-” he hesitates to then lightly punch the pillow in place “it’s not snoring, I just- I like having my space.”

“Alpha...”

“Just let it go.” Alpha’s tone is harsh but it softens quickly “Please.”

You huff, shaking your head and turning your back on him to enter your bedroom. You can’t help feeling rejected and upset, huffing a breath.

“Fine. Goodnight.”

“Goodni-”

You click the door shut before he can finish, undressing and angrily throwing your clothes to the floor before shoving your head into your long sleeping shirt and climbing into your bed.

You just wanted to have him near you. It was cute having him out of your room before you two admitted to each other and yourselves that you were actually dating, but now it feels just stupid. You would understand him not staying if he had to leave for some early mission, but having him at your place for the night, sleeping on your couch when your room is about five steps from there is ridiculous.

You wanna snuggle to him just like you do after sex - although even then, he sneaks out of the room as soon as you are asleep. You wanna wake up looking at his handsome face and his beautiful brown eyes.

You shove your feet under the covers and press the remote on your nightstand, turning the lights off. The room becomes dark, and you are still thinking of what could possibly be the reason for Alpha not wanting to sleep with you when you hear two soft knocks on your bedroom door.

You sit up, turning your small nightlight on and piping out:

“Yes?...”

There is a long stretch of silence before alpha’s voice comes through, small and sheepish:

“It’s me. I...” he cracks the door open, and the dimmed light of the living room spills through the opening, “...can I still sleep with you?”

You straighten yourself up, all your anger vanishing in an instant while you toss the covers to the side, nodding repeatedly:

“Yes! Yes, you can! Please... come in.”

Alpha walks in, dragging his feet on the floor, his chin dipped down and his gaze low. He is carrying his pillow under his arm and wearing only his black sleeping pants.

“Hey there, handsome.” you say affectionately as he shuffles to your bed, placing his pillow next to yours

“Hey.” Alpha climbs on the bed, shimmying close to you and snaking his arm over your middle, nuzzling at the crook of your neck; he feels incredibly warm, making you melt at his touch “Moons, you smell so good.”

You giggle, throwing the covers over you both and snuggling up to his muscular chest as he lies half-sitting on your bed, your palm resting over his stomach. He’s one to say it, his warm body smelling of your soap and something distinctively… his. A scent that makes you feel safe and at home.

“So do you.” You press a kiss to his face, fixing your pillow so that you can lift your upper body as well, letting his arm drape over your shoulders as you sit up, pressing yourself to his side “What made you change your mind?”

Alpha stays quiet, his chest moving slowly with his breath. The more your eyes get used to the darkness, the better you can see him even with only the dim nightlight on. He brings a hand to your face, cupping your cheek.

“I love you. I don’t want you to think I don’t.”

You wince at the restlessness in his gaze, shaking your head:

“Alpha, I never said-”

“But” Alpha interrupts you, and you can distinctly notice the tension tinging his voice, taking over his features “I need you to know that this isn’t about me snoring, or moving around too much, it’s just that...”

There is a pause where he clicks his tongue and he turns his face away even though you can barely see it in the poorly-lit room.

“...I have nightmares. And sometimes I-” he pulls his arm back from over your shoulders, swallowing down as his breath hitches “sometimes I wake up in a frenzy, kicking and screaming. It’s not pretty. I don’t want you to see it. It’s why... it’s why I’ve been hiding away from you.”

Your mouth drops open, eyes going wide in shock. Of everything, you did not expect this to be the reason why he wouldn’t sleep with you. All this time, you had thought he just didn’t want to get attached to you, and…

You bring a hand to his face, cupping his jaw and watching as he reluctantly draws his gaze back to you, low and timid.

“What kind of nightmares?” you ask, trying to understand more and immediately regretting it as he purses his lips tightly, swallowing down in clear discomfort “Sorry. You don’t have to tell me.”

Alpha places his hand over yours – his fingers calloused from years of combat and firing blasters. His tone is hushed, a low murmur that matches his sheepish expression.

“I just… don’t wanna scare you if it happens.”

“Oh, love…” you lean closer to him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth to then lay your head on his shoulder, looking up to him “You won’t scare me, I promise. I’ll be here for you, and we’ll get through this together, okay?”

Alpha’s hands met your back, wrapping you in a tight hug. He exhales heavily with a hum, muscles losing tension as the air leaves him. One of his hands move up to your nape, fingers caressing your scalp.

“Stars, I can’t imagine what I’ve done to deserve someone like you.”

Alpha ends up spooning you, one leg draped over your waist and his arm clutching you flush to his body. You are surrounded by warmth, hearing the gentle sound of his breathing. This feels so… intimate, more so than the many nights of steamy sex you two had shared. Sleep weights your eyelids down, and your mouth parts open, every inch of you loosening into relaxation. The thoughts swirling in your mind lose form, dissolving into nothing, and you sink into sleep with a content hum.

You don’t know how much time has passed. You don’t know what time it is. All you know is that its definitely still night as you are jolted awake by a blood-curdling scream.

Panicking, you sit up in bed to another scream in a voice you know too well. Alpha. Alpha is screaming right next to you, and you scramble for the nightlight switch, turning it on and whipping your head back to look at the man lying next to you.

Alpha seems to have tossed the covers, lying on his side with his back facing you. His whole body is curled tightly in a ball, biceps jutting up as his hands clutch at his head, his fingers buried in the dark hair as they grip and tug at it. There is a sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, and his face is all red.

One of his legs give a sharp kick towards the end of the bed, and the other does the same, as if he’s fighting an invisible enemy. He screams again, loud and full of agony as if he is being stabbed.

“Al-” his next scream ends in a sob, and as he rolls over to lie on his back, you see his eyes wide open, tears running rivers over the bridge of his nose and down the curve of his cheek “Alpha, love, what’s wrong?!”

Alpha squeezes his eyes shut, his sobs making his whole body shake and his chest shudder as his head lolls side to side over the mattress. He covers his face with his hand, whimpering and crying nonstop, his words muffled by his palms and distorted by his hitching breaths.

You can manage “m’sorry, so sorry-”, “-all dead-”, “-forced me to-” as you sit on your haunches, placing a hand on his chest that is damp with cold sweat. Your free hand goes to pet his hair with light, soothing strokes.

“Love? You had a nightmare. Can you hear me? Y-you’re safe.”

Alpha’s breathing is ragged, and he drags his hands down his face; you can see his eyes, wild and lost, eyelashes wet with tears that spill down his face. His voice comes from between his fingers, small and terrified.

“-said we were betrayed, we had to follow orders, I never wanted to-”

You gently push his hands to the side, cupping his face instead and looking deep in the brown eyes that dart back and forth. As scared as you are, you manage to speak in a firm, mostly collected tone.

“Alpha, you’re safe. You’re with me. I got you. Hm? I got you.”

Alpha looks up to you, his teeth chattering and lower lip trembling. His entire face is wound in utter despair.

“…it was all my fault.” he breathes it out as if it’s a single word strung together, sucking in a harsh breath “their blood’s on my hands” more tears spill from his eyes as he squints in pain “I can still hear their screams…!”

You have questions, hundreds of them, but you know better than asking them now. Instead, you cup Alpha’s face more firmly, leaning closer so that he has no choice but to look at you and hopefully be brought back into reality.

“It wasn’t your fault. You did your best. It wasn’t your fault.”

“No, I didn’t, I should’ve been faster, I should-”

“Shh…” you press your forehead to Alpha’s “Breathe. Just breathe, Alpha.”

“They needed me, and I-”

“I know.” you say reassuringly “I know. Breathe.”

You don’t know. Not really. You had noticed the hint of blue lines that tinged his armor under the noticeably fresh coat of dark silver the day you two first met. The way it resembled a mandalorian’s, but the helmet was unmistakably a clone trooper’s, and the black shirt he wore under it actually had the republic’s crest on it.

It wasn’t that difficult to do the math and realize he was probably a clone trooper of the fallen Republic, which makes him a deserter and a traitor to the Empire.

Alpha is slowly becoming less frantic and agitated, his screaming ceasing and turning into a long wail that ends in more desperate sobs, his teeth grinding and his hands trembling over his chest.

“I never asked for any of that- I never-”

“Shh… I know…” you lean down over Alpha, covering his upper body with yours like a blanket, feeling the way his chest heaves for air over and over as you keep your forehead pressed to his “You’re safe now. It’s over.”

The two of you stay like this for a long time, and after what feels like an eternity, Alpha’s breathing starts slowing down, his back no longer tensed up in an attempt to arch off the bed sinking back down on your bed. He is still shivering, beads of sweat glistening on his face.

And then his hands reach up to the small of your back, hugging you tight enough to almost push all air out of your lungs. He shifts his head to the side, pressing his cheek to yours and sighing heavily.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbles quietly “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this… I must’ve scared you to death…”

“No, no.” you whisper just as quietly “I’m glad I was here to help you through it.”

Alpha sighs again, hums to then gently roll the two of you on the side, keeping you close still. He looks exhausted, but at least he doesn’t seem to be panicking anymore. His eyes are weary, puffy and red, and his face is flushed, hair messily plastered to his forehead. Th sight of him makes your heart clench painfully in your chest.

“Do you always have those?” you ask in a hushed tone, tracing his jaw with your finger “Every night?”

Alpha purses his lips, swallowing down.

“Not every night, no. But with more… frequency than I’d like.”

“Do you wanna talk about-”

“No.” he cuts you off sharply to then soften his tone “Not now. M’sorry, I still need… time, I guess.”

“Hey, don’t apologize.” you brush his hair off his forehead, running your fingers through his hair “Is there anything I can do for you? Hmm? To help you with this?”

Alpha seems pensive for a moment, and he looks up, indicating your hand caressing his head.

“This is a good start.” he pulls you even closer, pressing you flush to his body “This, too.”

You chuckle, stifling a sob. Alpha’s relaxed expression shifts into a distressed one as he notices the tears in your eyes.

“Oh, no, no, don’t cry, cyare.” He kisses your cheek, reaching for your nape “What’s the matter?”

You sniffle, shaking your head.

“Nothing, nothing, I just…” you snuggle against the crook of his neck “Just wanna make you happy, Alpha.”

Alpha presses a kiss to the top of your head, his whole body loosening up with a long exhale of his.

“You already do. More than I ever thought I could deserve to be.”

#my fics

13 notes · View notes

stardancerluv · 3 years

Text

At War

Part 4b

Summary: Roman, takes care of what’s his.

Warning: none

“Zsasz, get us the fuck out of here.” When he climbed back into the Rolls, he saw you shaking and trembling. He exhaled. “Come over here.” Pulling off his mask, he reached over and out it on the passenger seat beside Zsasz who was already tearing through the streets.

He ruffled his hair, looking over he saw you still being consumed by your fear. He was used to seeing people at the other end of his wrath acting like this. He hated seeing you feel like this. He slid over to you.

“Baby.” He whispered. “Come here.” Wrapping an arm around you he pulled you close. He had felt you flinch but then you relaxed. In a breath, you wrapped your arms around him and buried his face into his good side. He ran his fingers through your hair.

Being with you made him face things he disliked, he mused. He was certain you had blood on your face and now that was on his suit. Also this need for comfort, he wasn’t used to giving it. He couldn’t explain it but when you wrapped your arms around him, he actually liked it. Annoyance did not claw at him. If anything, he really wished he could bring you even more comfort.

He’d love to promise you that he will get the head of Gillis but right now he knew best to be quiet. As he held you knowing he killed St. Clair filled him with happiness. She was responsible for the argument the two of you had this morning. The fucking pretty boy got her, he smirked.

The heavy metal door came down behind them as Victor pulled into the underground parking garage.

“Y/N, we’re home.” He tucked some hair behind your ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You looked up at him. “Cleaned up?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah.”

Worry crossed your face.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said to you. Zsasz, he noticed had opened the door. “Let’s get out of this dank parking garage. Yes?”

You nodded and followed him out of the Rolls. He looked at Zsas, “You know where it goes. Make sure that door is locked and then come up and meet me in my office.”

“Want me to give you sometime?” Zsasz, scratched the back of his head.

He exhaled. “Right now is not the time for games.” He gave Zsasz, a hard look. “Once up in the penthouse make sure the elevator only travels to your floor and mine. I do not want to be worried about it.”

“Sure thing boss.”

******

Silently, he took your hand and interlaced your fingers with his gloved one. Looking at it, he rather enjoyed its kind of odd balance. It was the two of you.

He brought you the bedroom, he stopped short of the bathroom. “Wait right here.” He hesitated at you closet but then he turned to his, you barely reacted to him taking his knife back.

Once in his closet, he shed his jacket. He would have to have another one made. He had been rather fond of the maroon color. Pulling off his gloves, he let them fall onto his jacket. A smile tugged on his lips as he looked at all the knives he had, he out the one you took and placed it where it belonged

Opening the drawer below it, he grabbed one of his t-shirts and a pair of his pajama pants. He knew what you had just got through had been a lot. He didn’t want shock or panic setting it.

With his shirt and pants slung on his shoulder, he led you into the bathroom. “Sit here.” He suggested once guiding you to bench he had in there. He placed his shirt and pants beside you.

You looked up at him. “Is it that bad?”

He put a finger under your chin and drew your face up. He shook his head. “No. But my girl should have to deal with this.”

You gave a soft smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “What kind of guy would I be?”

You nodded.

He went over and grabbed a wash cloth, he wet and soaped it up. “As much as I love you looking up at me,” He smirked. “Close your eyes, so I can take care of this.”

Looking, at your face seeing the blood splattered there. Incensed his anger. You were only part of this world because of him. How dare they.

He was just grateful, you had that idea. If he had just gotten the news you being killed. There would be even more blood on the streets tonight.

He would have Zsasz, find out what he could about Vanessa. Thankfully, he had set up the transfer but boy executed it because he waited making sure the plan would work. He had not expected this. The other girls would be upset. Everyone, seemed to like her. David on the other hand, had been a decent driver but he had no connections with the others and no family to speak of. GothamPD could handle him.

More reason, for him to dislike Gillis and her gang. Making more unnecessary trouble. He gritted his teeth

Gently holding your chin as brushed and rubbed the blood away. “Stay this way, now I have to rinse the soap away.”

He threw away the wash cloth. Grabbing a new one he soaked it with warm water he twisted it and grabbed a dry one and you would be set.

When he back, he noticed that tears had run down your cheeks. He sighed, “It’s not your fault. You had an amazing idea. It saved you. And I will make Gillis and her gang pay.”

Your eyes were watery. “Ok. Good.”

He held up the wash cloth. “Hold the dry one for me, baby.”

You took it and he made sure all the soap was gone. He went over it a few times. After drying you off, the wash clothes were on the floor. He’d never use them again. He helped you to your feet.

Easily he helped you out of your clothes. “Ooh.” He made a sound as sweet as he could while letting his finger trace the band of your panties. “These are very nice.” But then he helped you into his pajama pants followed by his t-shirt. “There’s my girl.” He pulled you close and brushed aside the fresh tear.

“Baby, I have to gather my men and protect us here. Now you can lay on the sofa in my office while I talk with Zsasz or you can stay in here.”

You swallowed. “I’ll stay here.”

“Alright, thats my girl.” He smiled. “I am very proud of you tonight.”

“You are?”

“Yes. You had a solid plan and it worked. And those people will pay for what they did.”

You looked down. He drew your face up. “Maybe I will let you scream at them when I capture them.”

You smiled then that made him feel better. He was relieved, he didn’t want you getting depressed. In this world people died, he was just glad you were not one of them.

“There’s the smile that pulled me in.” He smiled. “Ok, I’ll come get you if the need arises. Maybe get some rest. It has been a rough night.”

You nodded.

*****

Roman, was right your plan worked and thankfully it wasn’t you. Perhaps, when things calmed down the two of you could do something for Vanessa’s family, if it was needed. You picked up the discarded wash clothes, your clothes and brought them to the chute that dropped them into the incinerator. You saw where he dropped his suit-jacket and gloves. It was best to let him decide what he wanted to do.

Going the room where you kept your stuff, you gathered Vanessa’s and also put them down the chute. Pushing the button, you let the incinerator do its job.

As you walked back to the bedroom you watched as Roman hunched over maps sipped at some whisky. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt. Seeing him do what he did his best made you feel good, it made you feel safe.

Going back to the bedroom, it was too much work to pull the blankets aside so you laid on top of them. You barely laid down and sleep claimed you.

*****

“Alright, let’s see.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “I want some downstairs in the club and I want the rest spread out in the neighboring buildings.”

“We can do that.” Victor sent out the messages. “Who do we want down stairs?”

“The ones who are directly on my payroll. The other ones,” He pressed his lips together. “Those who uphold and pledge their loyalty can stat staked out in the other buildings. Give them an incentive. A bonus if they stay there ams stay good look outs and support if she comes.”

“Alright good. They should all like that.”

Roman, looked at him. “They better. And of we catch any of them helping her, we take their fucking head.”

*****

Later, much later after he had finally spoken to various groups. He finally decided to sleep. He was ready.

Feeling like he was shedding clothes from a lifetime ago he felt worlds better. It felt good to feel the silk of his pajamas.

He tiredly smiled when he saw that you and cleaned things up. The entire maroon suit went down the chute along with the gloves. Pushing the button, for the second time that night the incinerator roared to life.

Seeing, that you laid on top pf the blankets he would too. He saw anguish splashed across your face. He exhaled, he was tired to his bones with the situation Gillis threw his life into. But carrying for you felt easy, it was like taking care of himself. He went and laid close.

“Daddy’s here.” He breathed close to your ear and pressed a kiss on your cheek.

Draping an arm over your side, he gave himself up to the sleep that had been pulling hard on him.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @nebulastarr @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @nomnomnomnamja @poe-kadot26 @top-rumbelle-fan @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @rosionis @queenofgotham800 @brookisbi @peachthatdrinkslemonade @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @proffesionalclown @chogisss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @pooshnulooshnu @speedypartyducksuitcase @blondekel77 @corey-clown @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight

22 notes · View notes

thegoodgayshit · 3 years

Link

Luz’s mother really doesn’t want to send Luz to camp. She knows once she leaves, there is no going back. But Luz has a knack for getting into trouble, and one day she stumbles into the same type of people her mother would have preferred she avoided. After helping Luz dissolve her high school bully into dust, Eda and Lilith know right away that this kid is just like them - a child of the gods. So Luz hops on a Pegasus and heads to Camp Half-blood, where she embarks on a dangerous quest that makes her both friends and enemies... and she might even save Olympus along the way.

Chapter Twenty-Four: We Help Out Willow’s Big Brother

Luz’s legs were burning.

She was pretty sure she’d never had to walk this far in her entire life. She’d been hiking a couple of times with her Tia Rosa when she was younger, but she definitely hadn’t enjoyed it. And it definitely hadn’t been more than an hour.

The walk down the highway hadn’t been that bad. They’d stayed off to the side of the road, and even been picked up by a nice mom in a minivan at one point. They’d told her that Gus’ dad had a fishing house along Turquoise Lake, and she’d dropped them off right at the edge of the highway. That had probably cut them about an hour of walking, but it was still slow and brutal.

Eventually, the highway had ended and a dirt road took its place. That’s when they started to move uphill. Luz could handle the straight line, but she was wearing vans and wasn’t at all interested in uphill climbing in flat shoes.

After about an hour and a half of moving along this uphill climb, Luz doubled over, clutching her stomach.

“Can we take a quick break? I’m dying here.”

Willow was more than happy to agree with Luz, dropping into a squat right next to her. “Sure, I’m beat.”

“I don’t know guys,” Amity said with a frown. Somehow, throughout the entire hike, she didn’t look even the slightest bit tired. She was sweating a little along her brow but otherwise looked unfazed. “We shouldn’t stop here. We’re exposed.”

“Don’t you guys think it’s a little strange we haven’t run into a single monster?” Gus added. He also looked a little worse for wear, he had shed his button-up and was now just in a t-shirt and jeans. But he was worrying his lower lip, looking around like they would be ambushed at any second. “I mean, we’re four demigods walking in a group, closing in on Mount Pelion. We couldn’t be bigger targets if we tried.”

“Don’t jinx us,” Willow deadpanned, taking a huge swig of water from one of the bottles they’d bought in Leadville. “I really don’t have the energy to fight a monster right now. We’ve been hiking for two and a half hours.”

“If we’re going to take a break, I think we should at least do it in the trees and out of sight,” Amity suggested, and Luz nodded, straightening back up.

“That’s fine with me, any break is a good break.”

They walked off the dirt road and down a little trail until they ended up a creek. Finding a good spot to sit along some rocks, Willow handed everybody a protein bar. Luz collapsed pretty ungracefully along a rock and closed her eyes.

“This is brutal,” she groaned, “and it’s only going to get more intense the higher up we get.”

“It depends actually,” Amity added with a shrug. “We might have to make our way around the mountain in a spiral. Lots of trails don’t go straight up.”

“How do you know all that?” Willow asks, and Amity tucks her arms around her knees.

“I live in the area, remember? My siblings and I go on hikes all the time during the school year.”

“So do you know the trail up Mt. Elbert?” Gus asks, and Amity shakes her head.

“No, we’re not allowed to go near Mount Pelion. I’ve done Mt. Evans a couple of times though.”

“Well that explains how you’re like, not even out of breath at all,” Luz says with a teasing smile. “You’ve got some superhuman hiking strength.”

Amity blushes, rubbing the back of her neck. “It just takes practice. Eventually, you stop noticing the burn in your calves.”

“Ugh, I wish,” Gus groans. “Mine feel like I’ve just run a marathon.

“Do you think we’re going to make it up the mountain before dark?” Willow asks, and Amity immediately shakes her head.

“We shouldn’t, even if we are in a hurry. The higher we get, the more brutal the winds are going to be. It’s just after noon, so we should hike a little longer before we take a break and look for camp.”

“Ok, then let’s get moving,” Luz said, and when she stood up, every muscle in her legs protested. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can stop.”

They started to make their way back to the dirt road, walking in pairs. Amity was leading the charge with Gus next to her, and Luz and Willow hung back, their feet dragging a little more than they would have cared to admit.

They were almost back at the dirt trail when Amity suddenly stopped cold, and Luz wasn’t really paying attention, so she just slammed into her back. Amity stumbled, but Luz reached forward and caught her arm, pulling her back.

“Sorry,” Luz mumbled, but Amity just held up her hand. It was so unlike Amity that Luz quieted immediately, as did Willow and Gus, who were now looking around the clearing with nervous eyes.

“Did you hear that?” Amity whispered, stiffening up.

Luz was quiet, listening to her surroundings as her friends did the same. At first, there was nothing. Just the rush of the creek and the swaying of the trees. But then…

RHEEEEEEEEE!

Luz was so startled by the cry, she jumped right back into Willow, who held her shoulders and kept her steady. Gus and Amity called out their shields, holding a protective barrier in front of them, but it wasn’t needed. The cry had come from somewhere deeper in the trees, and following that right away was another cry, this one human.

A very angry human, cussing so badly her Mami would have washed their mouth out with soap.

Then, another cry from whatever had made that noise.

“Someone’s in trouble!” Willow exclaimed, and all four demigods summoned their weapons. Aletheia spun into a sword, and Luz caught it, and charged through the forest with her friends, her previous exhaustion forgotten.

“What kind of monster is that?” Luz cried out as they sprinted through the trees. There was no doubt it was something from their world. No bear or wolf made a noise like that.

“I have a couple of ideas!” Gus offered, doing his best to keep up and not trip on the rocky ground. “None of them good!”

“Sounds about right,” Luz groaned, before deciding to just focus on running.

Amity eventually skidded to a complete stop right as they broke through a clearing in the trees, and Luz stopped a lot more dramatically next to her, her dominant foot slipping and resulting in Aletheia being held up against her face protectively. When Luz looked past Amity’s shoulder at what was making the sound, she gawked.

In the middle of the clearing, there was a gorgeous white and blue farmhouse, with a huge porch. Luz could make out a clothesline hanging from the top of the porch, and a couple of wicker sitting chairs. There was a variety of hanging plants in the garden, and a huge wreath over the door. And the clearing? It was huge.

In fact, the clearing wasn’t a clearing at all. It was more like a twenty-acre farmers' field, just sitting off the dirt road in mountain country. Luscious green vegetables were growing in the fields, along with potatoes, corn, beans, an orchid of apples, and there was even a gods forsaken red barn smack in the center of it with a couple of animals milling about. The enough was enough to shock Luz since she was pretty sure the soil quality up here couldn’t be great. They looked like they could be in Missouri, not Colorado.

But the biggest shock wasn’t the farm. It was the farmer standing just away from the front porch. The farmer’s huge hands were clasping a boar by the tusks, stopping it from charging. He grunted with effort, gritting his teeth and digging his boots in the dirt, his muscles rippling under a green flannel button up.

Luz had never seen a boar before, but she was pretty sure they were supposed to be that big. It was easily the size of a sedan, with massive beady eyes, and it was doing everything in its power to push against the farmer. It’s feet stamped into the ground furiously as it pushed, and Luz saw the farmer tense as he was pushed back an inch in the dirt, and all the shock drained from her body.

“We have to help him!”

Luz charged forward, her friends at her heels. She approached the boar with a furious yell, and with a quick swing, she managed to take the boar by surprise and cut one of the tusks off sending it spinning into the dirt. The boar was now moving off-balance, diverting away from the farmer and charging in another direction. The farmer stumbled and dropped to one knee.

Gus and Amity charged at the boar with their weapons and shields, keeping it away from the crops. Willow had already leaned down to help up the farmer.

“Are you alright?”

He took her hand and stood, brushing his hands down his dirty jeans. “Thanks, kid,” he said to Willow, his voice gruff and heavy with a deep southern drawl. “I’ll be just fine. But we better go help your friends, cuz’ they ain't’ gonna be fine for long.”

Luz spun around, and her eyes widened in horror. The boar had turned on Gus now and had knocked his shield out of his hand with it’s one good tusk and sent it spinning into the dirt. He stabbed forward with his spear, managing to turn the boar away from him, but now it had focused on Amity, rearing back to charge.

“Amity!”

Luz ran forward, but there was no way she could outrun the boar. Amity didn’t seem to need her help though, because as it charged she sidestepped, managing to graze the side of it with her sword. It wasn’t nearly enough to send it running, but it did squeal and give Luz, Willow, and the farmer enough time to make it to the other two demigods.

They readied their weapons, the five of them standing together and watching the boar murderously. Seeming to realize it was outnumbered, the boar huffed in anger, before turning tail and fleeing, exiting through the trees and out of sight.

Luz exhaled, turning to her friends in terror.

“What was that thing?”

“The Crommyonian Sow,” Gus said, his voice very small as he retracted his spear and picked up his sword. “The mother to the Calydonian Boar. It terrorized the village Crommyon and was later killed by Theseus.”

“Theseus?” Luz asked, her voice quickly rising in anger. “That can’t be a coincidence.”

“It’s not, Luz,” Amity said, and Luz’s gaze flickered up to look at her. Her eyes were wide, but not because of the run-in with the boar. “Your dream!”

Luz paled, and Willow and Gus turned to look at her in confusion.

“What dream?” Willow asked, and Luz recalled the dream she’d had of the mountain, from the fight between Theseus and Achilles, Belos’ order, and the Death Mist. When she’d finished, they both had gone pale as well.

“His exact words were ‘stop them before they find us’?” Gus repeated, fidgeting uncomfortably. “That can’t be good.”

“The Sow started showin’ up today, but it’s come back roun’ here three times lookin’ for trouble,” the farmer said, and Luz jumped, forgetting he was standing there. When Luz and her friends turned to look at him, he stuck his hands in his jean pockets, giving them a white smile.

Luz wasn’t sure how old he was, maybe somewhere in his early thirties? He had curly dark hair and a scruffy beard that made him look like a lot of the dads that dropped their kids off at Luz’s school in the morning. He had a deep tan, and his eyes were a dark green, that twinkled in a way that Luz pegged right away as not human.

Though she should have figured that out already based on the way he held back a boar with his bare hands.

“I’m Demophon,” he said with a little smile. “Why don’t you kids come inside for some lemonade.”

Demophon’s house was really homely. It was an old farm style, with a lot of wooden furniture, and the décor was mainly light greens and blues. In the living room next to a couple of couches was a huge brick fireplace, sitting barren and unused. They sat down at the kitchen table that overlooked the farm fields, and Demophon returned from the kitchen with two pitchers of lemonade and plates of snacks: cookies, fresh veggies and fruit, and sandwiches.

They probably should have been more cautious, considering they didn’t really know anything about Demophon, but they were so hungry they couldn’t care less. Luz’s stomach grumbled in delight as she dug into a little tuna sandwich, washing it down so quickly with lemonade she barely tasted it.

“Thank you so much for the food, Mr. Demophon,” Amity said between bites, and he just shook his head.

“Demophon is fine, Amity. It’s my pleasure to help you kids on your quest.”

The four of them perked up, now looking at him with surprise. The farmer chuckled, but Luz noticed a slight lift in her shoulders. She did the same thing when she was worried about something.

“Yes, I know all about your quest. My mother sent me a message earlier this month lettin’ me know you migh’ be stopping by… and that you were on your way to free Lady Hestia.�� For a moment, his nerves disappeared as he turned to Willow, his green eyes twinkling in pleasure. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, little sister.”

Willow dropped her sandwich on the plate, looking up at him in shock. Luz felt her mouth drop open and saw Amity and Gus tense next to her. Willow, eventually, was able to reply.

“You’re my brother?”

Demophon hummed, taking a seat next to them. He crossed his huge calloused hands together on the table and smiled. “Well, in a sense. Demeter is more of my adopted mother. But over the many centuries I’ve been alive, I have come to grow fond of her.”

“You’re Triptolemus’ brother,” Gus said, his voice lowering in realization. Demophon chuckled.

“Trip is my older brother yes. Though he rarely visits. He has many other duties to attend to.”

“But how… how are you alive?” Gus said in awe, and Luz realized that Willow and Amity were leaning in, desperate to hear his story. Luz really needed to brush up on her Greek mythology. Maybe she’d take it as her elective when she went back to school.

“What do you mean how is he alive?” Luz asked, blinking. “He’s a god, obviously.”

“No, Luz Noceda,” Demophon said with a shake of his head. He settled his warm green eyes on Luz with a smile. “I am no god. But I am immortal.”

Luz’s brow furrowed. “How is that different?”

“Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, but also fertility,” Demophon explained, nodding his head to Willow. “My birth parents were favored by my mother, just as Willow’s fathers were. In exchange for their adoration, Demeter sought to make me a god in their honor. She is the mother of the Olympians and worked with Hestia to have me stoked on their fires and made immortal. But halfway through the process, my birth mother found me on the fire and screamed, rippin’ me off the flames. The process was never finished, but it was too late to turn back. I was made immortal, but due to my… imperfection… I was never accepted into the Greek pantheon. So, mother let me have this farm here near Mount Pelion, and that’s where I’ve stayed.”

“Why weren’t you accepted?” Amity asked in shock when he finished. She was looking Demophon up and down. “You look godly to me. You held back that sow with your bare hands, and you certainly haven’t aged over the centuries.”

“There is more to being a god than just strength and immortality,” Demophon answered, his voice turning wistful as he talked. “You need drive: godly essence that comes from owning and having. You need to stand for something and have mortals who respect and favor you. Mortals don’t see me as a person who can grant them good fortune and prosperity, and I have no claim over any aspect of humanity.”

“Because the legends said you died in the fire when your mother found you,” Willow said, her mouth open wide with shock and realization. Demophon shrugged.

“Mortals rarely get the full story, and so they fill in the gaps with what they want to see. Complex situations confuse em’. I think you know what I mean, little sister.”

Willow flushed, and Luz realized that maybe Demophon had a point. Willow was teased for being “half a half-blood”, but she was one of the strongest demigods Luz knew. The more Luz looked at Demophon, the more sympathy she felt for him. It must be incredibly lonely, living for this long and never being accepted into the mortal world or the godly one.

“I’m sorry we brought the monster to your farm,” Luz said slowly, and Demophon looked over at her with the tiniest hints of a smile.

“Now, now of that, Luz. I’m no fool, and unless you’re the man that sent that beast, I have no quarrel with you. But you kids ain’t safe heading up the mountain until that monster’s been taken care of.”

Demophon stood up and went into the kitchen, but came back relatively quickly. He had a cloth package in his hands, which he handed to Willow.

“These are some of my mother’s apples. She has me grow them here in case harvest on Olympus is poor. It never is, so I always have plenty. When you need a boost, take a bite. Hopefully, it helps you on your quest.”

Willow held the package so gently in her hands, it was like she was afraid they would disappear. She looked up at Demophon in awe.

“These apples… they haven’t been trusted to mortals in centuries. Why would you give us something like this?”

Demophon’s face suddenly went dark.

“I want Belos gone just as much as the Olympians do. Hestia is the reason I’m here, able to tend to my farm and my livestock. She’s always been kind to me… kind to all who cross her path and say hello.”

He looked over at the huge fireplace in his living room, which was completely dark. His eyes were fixated on it, like the sight of it alone physically pained him.

“My fire hasn’t lit since she was taken,” he said, his voice breaking slightly on those last few words. “Without her, all the love and light and happiness that we know will fade from existence. Somebody needs to stop him, and get her back. If I were not bound to this farm, I would go up the mountain myself. I will do anything I can to help you.”

Demophon sat back down at the table and went back to cradling his calloused hands in his lap. Luz was suddenly struck with a pang of homesickness. Demophon did the same thing with his hands her Mami did when she was worrying herself sick about something. He was just as scared about the success of the quest as they were.

“You seem to admire Hestia a lot,” Luz said quietly, so quietly she wasn’t sure anybody would hear her. But Demophon looked up, and so did her friends, turning to look at Luz. She glanced at Amity, for only half a second, and realized that she was watching Luz with a careful expression.

Had she overstepped?

Demophon met Luz’s gaze, and that’s when Luz saw it. It was the same look Amity gave her when she was grappling with a decision. To tell or not to tell.

“I’ve had so few people I could truly call a friend while I’ve worked this farm,” he eventually said, glancing over at the fire. “I could always rely on Hestia to show whenever I lit that fire and passed on my offerings. There are so few certainties in a life as long as mine. If you were in my place, would you be happy with that changing in the blink of an eye?”

“No,” Luz said immediately. She couldn’t imagine just sitting at her Mami’s apartment while her friends were in danger. She’d do anything to protect Willow and Gus. She’d do anything to protect Amity.

She’d move the entire mountain by herself if she had to.

She opened her mouth to reply, to assure Demophon that they would do everything they could to save her, but she didn’t get the opportunity to. Because Amity spoke next, swallowing hard before shaking her head.

“I’ll get her back,” Amity said, leaning in to look Demophon in the eye.

It was so surprising Luz couldn’t help but turn and look at Amity out of the corner of her eye. Amity’s expression was startling. Her face looked exactly like how Luz was feeling.

“I’ll break her out of the cage and make Belos pay no matter what happens. I swear it on the River Styx.”

Outside, thunder rumbled. The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Willow and Gus were looking at Amity with a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Luz didn’t really know what was happening, but judging by the equally as awed look Demophon was giving her, whatever she’d done was pretty serious.

“You don’t know what you’re promising me, kid,” Demophon tried, but Amity shook her head, leaning in again with such a ferocity Luz couldn’t look away no matter how hard she tried.

“I do know,” she insisted, reaching forward and gently resting her hand over his. “I know that nobody deserves to have someone taken from them. Being around the people you love makes life worth living.”

Willow cracked a small smile, nodding her head and leaning forward to rest her hand on top of Amity’s.

“She’s right. I’ll help too.”

“Me too!” Gus added, reaching forward to put his own hand on top of Willows.

Luz broke into a grin, nodding and adding her own hand to the now growing pile. “Obviously I’m in too. We’ll free Hestia, even if Theseus throws a hundred more stupid pig-boars at us.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t,” Amity deadpanned, and Luz laughed, hard enough that everyone at the table cracked into smiles. Even Demophon, who was looking so grateful Luz thought he might start crying.

“Thank you, kids,” he said, wiping at his face. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

“We do know. That’s why we want to help,” Luz insisted, her whole body vibrating with adrenaline at what they were about to do. “Now let’s go make some pork chops.”

#the owl house #lumity #luz x amity #Percy Jackson AU #shelby speaks

18 notes · View notes

wkemeup · 5 years

Text

Guiding Light (12)

summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get the intel and go home. Until everything goes wrong and you’re taken captive by Hydra and now, Bucky can’t breathe without you. Not until he brings you home. If he even can. pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 8.2k warnings: angst™, descriptions of a panic attack, cannon violence, references to suicidal ideation 🖤series masterlist // series playlist

Bucky could barely stand on his own feet, vision tunneling as a ringing burned in his eardrums. His breaths were coming in too short, right hand numb as he struggled to keep himself upright. He couldn't understand how this was even possible; how had they done to you what they did to Bucky and no one even noticed it, didn’t even consider that there was something bigger at play, something evil and vile.

All this time he thought you were safe, thought the worst of it was over, but the rug was pulled out from under him and he was falling a thousand miles a minute, plummeting down to the very core of the planet itself and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

How did no one see this coming?

Only Sam took notice from the corner of the room as Bucky’s knees started to buckle, his hand grasping at his chest as his breaths were too shallow, and rushed at him. Sam gripped onto Bucky’s bicep, holding him up against the wall, and quietly instructed him to list five things he could see.

Bucky gritted his teeth, though he played along because it had helped once before, and he didn’t have time to panic like this, couldn’t waste energy losing himself to his mind because you were out there somewhere, alone, and at the mercy of Hydra. So, he listened to Sam and scoured the room for something to ground him.

Light blue trimming on the floor boards. Steve’s arms folded over his chest. Tony’s pacing up and down the small, enclosed room. The sheets of your bed thrown to the edge of the cot in haste. Broken glass lining the floor he hadn’t noticed when he walked in.

He still couldn’t breathe.

“FRIDAY!” Tony shouted as Bucky started mumbling four things he could touch quietly to Sam, “get me a scan of the entire building! I want to know where the hell she is!”

“You got it, boss,” the AI responded.

Bucky felt for the creases in his sweatpants, then to the thin layer of his t-shirt, hands grasping to tug on his hair, and then to grip onto Sam’s forearm. His breaths were starting to come in more even but he was still too dizzy to focus.

“Three things you can hear,” Sam said quietly, eyeing the rest of the team who had yet to notice Bucky’s panic attack. For all the shit he gave Sam, he was a good man and better than he ever gave him credit for to his face. He reminded himself to tell Sam how much he appreciated it that when all this was over.

“You,” Bucky mumbled, concentrating, “footsteps,” nodding to Tony’s relentless pacing, listening carefully for something humming in the background, “and, um, air conditioning.”

Bucky glanced up to find Steve and Tony talking harshly to one another in the corner of the room, trying to determine next steps and clearly being at odds with one another over what to do. Meanwhile, Natasha tended to Dr. Cho, helping ease her onto the chair as she attempted to explain what had happened.

“That voice just came over the speakers and she just froze,” Dr. Cho muttered, shaken, as she glanced between Tony and Steve as they hovered over her, “she started convulsing about halfway through; screaming, crying, begging for me to leave, but then she just… stilled. I’m not sure what that man said but the next thing I know, she was out of the bed and hit me over the head with a vase.”

So that’s why there was broken glass spilled on the floor; flowers and stems thrown haphazardly around the room. Bucky stopped breathing again, the rest of the steps in Sam’s list thrown out of his mind as the image of your eyes as cold and lifeless as his had once been prevented the air from reaching his lungs.

“Two things you can smell,” Sam reminded him quietly enough to not draw attention, “come on, man. We need you here.”

Bucky nodded, following Sam’s instruction and pushing the mental image from his mind. You needed him and whether you were taken to the darkest parts of your consciousness, he’d find his way to you, he’d bring you back. You’d done it for him more times than he could count. He’d do it for you, too.

The fresh flowers now spewed onto the tile floors. Disinfectant soap on the counter.

Sam was about to ask him for the final step in the grounding method when Bucky shoved his way from off the wall, a renewed energy in his veins and determination running through his body. He clenched his hands into fists, turning back to give a single nod to Sam in a silent appreciation.

“FRIDAY!” Tony called impatiently, “I need an update here.”

“I think I found something,” FRIDAY’s voice came through again, “in the east wing. The security cameras haven't been set up there yet so I can’t get an eye on Agent Y/l/n but there’s movement in the area.”

Steve nodded; arms folded over his chest. He glanced to Bucky with remorse clouding in the light blue of his eyes until his friend nodded, giving him the signal that it was okay to proceed. Steve let out a heavy breath, stepping forward and his arms relaxed at his sides.

“Alright, team. Suit up.”

***

Bucky couldn’t stand wasting time he should be searching the compound for you lugging on his Kevlar jacket and changing out of his sweatpants. It felt like a colossal mistake, attending to something so trivial, but it was Sam that pointed out that a knife and a bullet would rip through cotton a lot easier than the thick material of his suit. If he wanted to survive whoever hacked FRIDAY’s system and whatever hell they brought along with them, he needed to take the extra three minutes.

He emerged from his room, trying to ignore the mess of sheets and pillows he’d laid in with you just hours ago, and met Sam at the end of the hall.

“Steve said we’d meet up there. Let’s go,” Bucky grumbled, heading towards the stairs when a hand grabbed onto his wrist, not enough to stop him in his tracks from the pull of it but he sensed the urgency in the grip, the silent plea to wait.

“You need to be prepared for what you might see,” Sam said sternly, though there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. “You haven’t seen yourself when the soldier took over. If that’s what's happening to Y/n right now... you've got to be prepared for that, man. She’s not going to know you and she may try to kill you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, ripping his hand from Sam’s grasp. It was harsher than he meant to but there would be time for apologies later. He knew how it felt when the soldier controlled him and he didn’t need anyone else to tell him what it would be like to see it. There was no preparing for something like that, for seeing the love of your life stripped from thier emotions, their memories, and rendered a weapon for the same organization that tortured them for months.

Sam nodded, needing no further explanation and gestured for Bucky to lead the way.

The run to the east wing was long, longer than he remembered, and impossibly quiet. All he could focus on was the sound of their footsteps echo through the halls as they ran, the panting of Sam’s breaths, and the rustling of his jacket against his left arm. He didn’t let himself think about anything else, couldn’t, because it would consume him whole.

“We’ve got an issue,” Steve’s voice came in through the coms. “I’ve got company on my level.”

“Me, too,” Nat added, her voice low, as if she was hiding from something, “at least six outside my hall.”

“Looks like we’ve got a full-scale invasion on our hands,” Tony chimed in and the whirring of his suit buzzed through the coms as he spoke. “Wilson and Barnes, you’re are on your own for now, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem,” Sam responded with a smirk, nodding at Bucky confidently. It was his easiest defense mechanism when things got tough, to smile through it and make jokes, because what else did they have if they lost their conviction.

Bucky nodded back, trying to latch onto the aura that Sam exuded.

It only lasted a second before the echo of gunfire rang out in the hallway and Sam ducked just as a bullet flew over his head.

Bucky skidded to a halt with his back pressed against the wall to shield himself from the open hallway where the gunfire had come from. Meanwhile, Sam threw himself towards the assailants down the hall without much of a second thought. Quickly switching into combat mode, Sam yanked the handguns from his holsters and began firing.

Bucky’s hand was inching towards his gun, edging over the corner of the hall, when Sam started waving at him frantically, turning over a cadenza lined against the wall and ducked down behind it to shield from the gunfire in his direction.

“Go!” he shouted as peaked out behind the blockade and fired at the two men. “Go, Barnes! I’ve got this! Find Y/n!”

Bucky watched as Sam charged out from behind the cadenza and disappeared further into the adjoining hall, chasing after the two gunmen, until all he could hear was the distant echo of the gun’s discharge, until he heard nothing but the labored pants of his own breath.

Sam was right. The team was getting picked off one by one from the chaos of Hydra agents infiltrating the base. He was the only one left, the only one who might be able to reach you before it was too late. He didn’t have time to panic and rush after Sam. There was only one priority right now and it was you. Bucky pushed himself off of the wall and sprinted further down the long, empty corridor.

Soon, the furnished halls and room turned to exposed beams and wooden framing, the cool air seeping in through the exposed walls until he came upon the heart of the east wing. He pulled to a stop in the same room he’d spent weeks renovating with Sam. The smell of fresh wood still present in the air, but there was something off. Tools thrown sporadically around the room outside of the box he had left them in, plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling ripped down the middle, and an aura of something sinister enough to get the hair on Bucky’s arm standing on edge.

“It is good to see you again, Soldat,” a voice spoke from behind him, low, familiar. It was the same voice from the speakers that spoke the Russian trigger words. “Let me reintroduce myself. You may call me Cain.”

Bucky turned, slowly, to catch a glimpse of Cain from the corner of his eyes before facing him completely. The scar running down the side of the man’s face was enough for a growl to rip through Bucky’s chest and he yanked the gun from its strap over his thigh and held the barrel aimed between Cain’s eyes. This was the same man who beat you and tortured you and humiliated you on streamed footage for the world to see. Bucky had never felt a rage in his veins quite like this. It was painful. It was all consuming.

Cain held his hands up to the side, almost defensively, laughing, and it made Bucky’s stomach lurch.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he smirked, “not when I’ve got such a fun surprise for you.”

Bucky’s position faltered for just a second, his grip loosening on the gun. His cold, hardened expression fell to one of agony, enough for Cain to notice before he could hide it. The knowing grin that followed only seemed to make the dread churning in Bucky’s stomach worse.

Then, Cain stepped aside, allowing space for something behind him, and Bucky watched with his heart in his throat as you emerged from behind the pillar.

It wasn't the black, skin tight suit, or the bold, red insignia of Hydra’s emblem on your chest that frightened him most, or the muzzle over your mouth, or the dark black paint over your face like a mask. It was the empty, detached look in your eye as you stared at him, looking straight through him like he was made of glass, like he was less than nothing. You were still, body stiff, awaiting orders and it was so familiar, Bucky’s knees nearly gave out.

“Impressive, ain’t she? Conditioned her myself,” Cain taunted, eyeing Bucky’s reaction as he ran a hand up the side of your arm and flipping the hair from your shoulder. He circled your back with the flat of his palm possessively; his touch on you a reminder of who you belonged to. You were unresponsive to your captor’s hands roaming over your body, too locked away in the confines of your mind to care, but Bucky was fuming.

“Get your fucking hands off of her,” he seethed through gritted teeth, his eyes trained on Cain’s hand upon your hip.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Cain stepped behind you and used your body as a shield. His chest was pressed to your back, his hands settled on your shoulders as he leaned around the side of your face. “You gonna shoot me through your girl here?”

Bucky’s head was pulsing, jaw aching from how tight he was grinding his teeth. Cain raked your hair away from your eyes, pushed it aside and licked a stripe up the side of your face. Bucky’s stomach dropped and he tasted blood in his mouth, his grip on his gun faltering as Cain kept his eye the whole time, daring him to do something about it. He didn’t pull away until his tongue trailed from the edge of your jaw to your temple. You didn’t even flinch. You were motionless.

Bucky could see the shine of Cain’s saliva on your skin.

“I’m going to kill you,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his voice even despite the heat boiling inside of him, “I will fucking rip you apart! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!”

“Not if your girl kills you first,” he shrugged, unfazed. “Listen Soldat, you’ve been a pain in Hydra’s ass for too long. If you’re not going to give up your little fantasy of pretending you’re some kind of hero and come home to Hydra where you belong, then we’re left with no choice but to eliminate you, to punish you for your decent. What better way to do that than with the woman you so pathetically fell in love with? Isn’t that right, эсминец?”

Destroyer.

You only blinked, unmoving, unaffected by the man’s taunts. Bucky kept his focus on you, desperately searching for a trace of the woman he knew you to be hidden somewhere in your eyes, screaming to get out, but it was naïve, foolish of him to even try. Sam had tried to warn him of that. The stories Steve had told him of what it was like trying to get through to him when the winter soldier filtered through the back of his memories. It was near impossible, he’d nearly beaten Steve within an inch of his life, but he did break through. Once.

He had to try.

“Y/n,” Bucky called out, directing his attention solely on you, even as Cain rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

“Y/n’s not home right now, asshole,” Cain scoffed, earning no response from Bucky.

“I need you to snap out of this,” Bucky tried again, recognizing the lace of fear in his voice he had no hope of masking. You were staring right through him, eyes glazed over. Bucky could hardly feel the thunderous pounding in his chest. “Please, I don’t want-- I won’t fight you. Please, baby, just wake up. You don’t have to listen to him. You know who he is. You know what he’s done to you.”

Still, nothing.

He should have expected that, but it didn’t make the sting of your empty stare any less painful.

“Sweetheart, please,” he choked out, the lump in the back of his throat threatening to suffocate him where he stood.

“Pathetic,” Cain grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Never thought I’d see the day the Winter Soldier begged like a fucking love sick school boy. You’ve become nothing but weak since you turned your back on Hydra. We raised you. We gave you your strength, your power, and you dare to throw it all away for some mindless whore with a vigilante complex!?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Bucky spat, eyes still locked on you because the second he looked at that vile man again, he’d lose it completely. He’d empty his entire clip into him and there was no telling what you’d do. It wasn’t a risk he could take, so he stayed focused on you despite the flinch in his body at the mention of Hydra, of the Winter Soldier, the physical recoil of his past life thrown back into his face.

Cain shook his head, a film of disgust upon his features. “Your makers would be sick at the sight of you.”

Bucky clenched his jaw so tight he drew blood against his tongue. His hand was shaking. Copper burned in his mouth. It took every ounce of his strength to stay focused on you.

“Y/n, sweetheart, look at me. I’m not your enemy. You know me.”

Nothing. No flickers of realization or softness breaking through the dense, stone cold expression etched into your muscles. You were empty, a shell, like he had been once. You didn’t know him. You didn’t even know yourself.

A painful split ripped and tore in Bucky’s chest and he was certain his heart had ripped in two.

“We don’t have all day here, so let’s cut to the chase.” Cain leaned into your ear and you shifted your head just slightly, slow calculated movements, waiting for his orders like it was the only thing you knew. It was. “Kill him.”

You nodded and without a blink in your eye, grabbed the handgun from Cain as he extended it to you. There was no time to react as you aimed the barrel in Bucky’s direction and pulled the trigger.

The fire of the release echoed within the room and suddenly white hot burning shot through Bucky’s right thigh. He stumbled back a few paces from the impact, his shoulder painfully colliding with the sharp edge of a wooden pillar, his leg threatening to give out under him.

He clenched his jaw, breathing harshly through gritted teeth as his hand darted down to put pressure on the wound and blood seeped between his fingers, thick and oozing through the torn hole in his suit, in his skin.

When he looked up again, you were already halfway across the room, stalking toward him and all he could see was the lack of remorse in your eye, the unabridged need to finish the mission, to take him out because it was what you were told. It was a look he knew too well.

He'd never even seen you like that when facing your enemies in the field. You were always cautious, calculating, but you still managed to crack jokes by his side as you infiltrated Hydra bases. There was a smile on your face and you eased him by talking about playlists and trips to Brooklyn as if he wasn’t following you through the halls of enemy territory with weapons in your hands.

You were never like this; separate from yourself, cold and compartmentalized, a weapon of your skills alone.

“Y/n! Wait!” Bucky shouted, calling out for you knowing it would be of no use but goddamnit he did it anyway because the idea of you being lost to him, after all you’d been through together, was too much to let himself give up now. He dove between the exposed wooden pillars, just trying to get out of your line of sight for only a second, dragging his right leg behind him to find relief.

Blood dripped down his thigh, leaving red in his wake and soaking through the fabric of his pants. He glanced over his shoulder and you were suddenly behind him, a hand on his bicep gripping tight into the straps of his jacket and you yanked him hard, shoving his body against the nearest wall.

You didn’t usually have strength like this and Bucky couldn’t quite tell if it was the adrenaline, a foreign serum in your veins, or if his own body was weakened by the blood loss or just by the agony of it being you he was supposed to fight.

Dead eyes clouding over any trace of the woman he knew and you moved to slam your fist to his face, but he ducked just in time, sliding out of your grasp. The crash of drywall followed and you shook dust and plasterboard from your fist like it barely hurt.

“I’m not going to fight you,” Bucky panted, holding his ground a few feet from you as you cracked your neck. “Snap out of this!”

You stalked closer, a twitch in your lip and a growl in your chest.

“You’re only prolonging the inevitable, Soldat!” Cain called out, laughing as he leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. A coward who couldn’t be bothered to do anything but watch.

Bucky grunted, grabbing your hand at the wrist as you swung at him again. He held you steady, watching as your eyes narrowed in concentration and you tried to push forward, arm shaking in the attempt. There was nothing behind the hue of your eyes, no love, no longing, no semblance of the light he was so used to. It was only darkness.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged, only for you to swing your free hand around and collide hard against his jaw. He stumbled back, grabbing at his face from the throbbing in his cheek.

You charged at him again, kicking him in the thigh where blood soaked through fabric and he cried out, the throbbing of the open wound aching through the entirety of his leg and shooting up through his spine.

“Look at me!” Bucky was growing desperate. He was running out of options. “You know me!”

He saw the flash of the gun quicker this time as you raised at him and rushed at you, slamming you hard against the wall and yanking the weapon from your hand, throwing it along the floor out of your reach.

Electric cuffs on the belt of his jacket released and he quickly adhered them to your wrists, leaving them bound against the wall like high intensity magnetics. You struggled against them, grunting and shouting, almost feral, and Bucky took a second to breathe.

Reaching forward, he removed the muzzle from your mouth and flung it aside, hands cupping at the sides of your face, touching the creases in your skin left behind by the sharp plastic. Fingers running soothingly over heated cheeks and you tried to stretch away from his touch like it burned you, like you’d never felt his hands before, like they were a stranger’s.

“Y/n, please, I don’t want to hurt you,” Bucky pleaded, trying to catch your eye but you only growled back at him, fighting the restraints as your chest heaved in the exertion. He was gripping your face too tightly now but he was teetering on the edge of desolation, terrified of what could happen, and you wouldn’t even meet his eye. “Baby, it’s me. It’s Bucky. Just look at me. I’m right here.”

“Enough already!” Cain shouted, aiming a device over in Bucky’s direction, something he didn’t recognize.

As high-pitched ringing filled the room, your cuffs immediately released and you fell from the wall, shoving Bucky hard to the ground before you scrambled for the gun. He didn’t have even a second to stand before you were towering over him, gun aimed down at his chest.

This was it, he realized. This was the way he was going to die, staring down the barrel held in the hand of the woman he spent his whole life waiting for, the woman he loved. He’d already heard you say you loved him for the last time, already had his last kiss with you, felt your hands so tenderly upon his skin, saw you smile, heard your voice. It was all over before he even realized it, ripped away by the cruel utterance of Russian words over the speakers.

He wondered if you’d ever forgive yourself.

You released the safety of the gun, the click of it deafening in his ears, and he clenched onto his thigh. Blood oozed between his fingers and he winced at the pain of it as it shot up his leg. Glancing up at you, staring into the cold and empty look in your eye as you strengthened your stance, ready to pull the trigger.

Bucky knew that if he was honest with himself, this fight would always end here.

He wasn’t fighting the way he should, wasn’t using his years of training and decades of combat and missions.

He could have swept your leg and pulled one of the knives hidden in his jacket, could have taken you by surprised and gotten control of the gun in your hand, he could have gained the upper hand and had you on the floor in a matter of seconds, but he couldn’t do any of those things without the risk of punishment from Cain reigning down on you before he could get you to safety or even convince you in this state that he was someone to trust.

He’d known what it was like to be in your position, to have nothing but orders in your mind and a determination that out-ruled everything else. You wouldn’t stop, no matter what he did, and he knew there was only one way to end this.

Cain wouldn’t let you leave here alive without accomplishing your mission. It was the reason they’d taken you in the first place, to break you and wither you down until they could shove the soldier into your head and rip away the woman he so adamantly loved, just so he knew in his last moments, it was you that killed him. Another sick form of torture that Hydra sought to punish him with. He’d always been at the mercy of those vile men, no matter what he did or how long he thought he was free from their grasp.

And they used you to do it.

Bucky made a decision in that moment as you stared down at him through cold, hooded eyes. Chest panting and sweat dripping from his brow, he tried to bring back the memory of your smile, your laugh, the light in your eyes he’d so easily fallen in love with.

The team would find you before Cain escaped. They’d find you and you’d be safe again.

It was all he cared about.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he exhaled, nodding slowly, hand gripping to the painful ache in his thigh. He hand was coated in red. “It’s okay.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused, and you glanced over at Cain for answers and he only shrugged, waving at you to get on with it. You adjusted your positioning, though your finger remained steady on the trigger.

“I know you’ll wake up from this soon,” Bucky continued, taking advantage of the time you gave him before it ran out, “you’ll wake up and remember this but I need you to know that I love you, okay? I need you to know that you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and this isn’t your fault.”

You blinked, furrowing your brow.

“You saved me all those years ago. Remember that,” Bucky urged, his voice softer than he intended, coming out in a broken rasp and losing energy fast. He coughed, blood spraying from his lips. “Do you understand me? This isn’t your fault, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.”

“Jesus fuck! This is pathetic!” Cain shouted, storming his way through the open walls and pushing aside half completed insulation. He stood next to you, raised his own gun to your head and releasing the safety with a deafening click. “Do it. Kill him, now!”

“Y/n, it’s okay,” Bucky pleaded, heart lurching at the sight of Cain’s finger inching closer to the trigger, the barrel pressing against your temple. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. You can do it now. I’m okay.”

But you didn’t move. You only stared at him, studying him, and for the smallest, most impossible second, Bucky thought he saw a flash of realization, but he knew it was only his mind playing tricks on him, a false hope he didn’t dare allow for himself.

“What the hell are you waiting for!?” Cain roared, shoving the barrel of the gun hard against your temple enough to force a falter in your position. “Kill him!”

“Y/n, please, it’s okay—”

“Listen to your goddamn boyfriend, princess! He’s fucking asking for it, ain’t he? Kill him!”

Bucky winced, feeling lightheaded from the throbbing in his thigh. He didn’t want to die, not anymore, not after he’d finally found you again and his world shifted into something beautiful and hopeful and filled with light. He didn’t want to die, but he’d give up everything if it meant keeping you safe.

He’d give up his life.

“I love you,” he said to the woman who didn’t know him, words falling out in an exhale as his eyes fluttered closed, just needing to focus on the image in his mind of you, of lying under cool sheets and curling against bare skin, of warm smiles and the soft touch of your lips. He needed it to be the last thing he knew as the darkness took him under.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I love you.”

Bucky settled in, waiting, hands trembling and breaths shaky in his chest.

But the gunshot never came. One minute later. Then two. Still nothing.

Slowly, Bucky opened his eyes again to see you clenching your jaw, nostrils flaring as a rage boiled under the surface. Your hand gripped and clenched at the handle of the gun, eyes flickering down to the barrel as if the very action of its aim repulsed you. There was a war fighting in your head, sweat beading down your temples as breaths came in thick and heavy, chest panting.

The soldier didn’t have emotions like that and Bucky felt his heart start to pick up in pace again as he dared to meet your eye.

Panic, confusion, shame, fury, all rolled into a single moment and a tear slipped down your cheek, blinking away another. Your lips parted, almost in a gasp, and it was like a cloud of smoke broke from the emptiness in your gaze, replaced with a complexity of human emotion all your own.

Bucky’s chest was tight, painful, and he realized he had stopped breathing. He sucked in a harsh breath, shaking on the exhale, as he kept your eye. You remained still, Cain still none the wiser as you had yet you drop your gun, though your finger had strategically moved away from the trigger.

Almost as if in slow motion, you turned to face Cain, prodding the gun away from your temple with the back of your hand until he held it down by his side. You clenched your jaw, eyes darkening over at you looked at him, losing traces of the woman Bucky knew you to be in favor of a vengeance that ran deep in your veins.

“What the fuck are you doing, princess?” Cain seethed, readying to lift the gun at you again but a scream, pained and broken, ripped through your lungs, echoing through the east wing, and you threw yourself at him before he could move.

Bucky propped himself up on his elbows, unable to do much else from the dead weight of his right leg, and watched as you slammed Cain to the ground, throwing his gun far away from his reach as you sent punch after punch against the side of his face until blood splattered along the floor.

But then, Cain kneed you hard in the side, throwing you off of him and managing to get the upper hand. Bucky tried to crawl towards you, desperate to do something, anything to help as you scrambled to your feet, but his body was fading on him, too weak to stand, let alone fight.

Cain laughed, spitting a gob of blood from his lips as he grabbed a hold of your shoulders, throwing you at the nearest pillar and Bucky flinched as he heard the sound of your head against the wood. You were too slow to get up, unsteady as you clung onto the wall with one hand and pressed at your temple with the other. Your vision was doubling and you fell back to the floor.

“You think you can beat me?!” Cain bellowed, arms stretched out to the side, “I am the embodiment of Hydra itself and Hydra cannot be killed!”

In his arrogance, he didn’t notice Bucky’s hand grasp onto the cold metal of the gun that had slipped from your hold in the struggle. He didn’t notice Bucky meet your eye for an impossibly short second before he slid the gun across the floor to you. He didn’t notice your fingers curling around the handle, pointer on the trigger as you released the safety with a short flicker, before it was too late, and without even waiting a beat, you fired a shot straight into Cain’s chest.

He stumbled back; words caught in his throat as he glanced down to red seeping out through his shirt. You pushed yourself to your feet, holding the gun with both hands and fired a second shot just as Cain attempted to lunge at you again. This one brought him to his knees. Then a third shot fired, until Cain collapsed to the floor. Even when he laid upon the ground, unmoving, eyes rolled back, you emptied the entire clip.

“Y/n,” Bucky called, trying to catch your attention over the sound of the gunshots, the ringing in his ears from the close quarter discharge pulsing painfully. You couldn’t hear him, firing round after round, refilling the magazine, watching as Cain’s lifeless body flailed with each shot. You didn’t stop until the weapon was firing blanks.

“Y/n!”

You froze, turning over your shoulder slowly, like you were afraid of what you’d see. Upon laying eyes on Bucky, the gun slipped from your hand, falling to the floor with deafening sound.

You rushed at him, skidding on your knees, hands hovering over his thigh, his chest, his face, so irrevocably afraid to touch him because you’d already caused so much damage but longing for the feel of him, to confirm the beating of his heart under your fingertips and the breath exhaling in warm gusts from his lungs.

Tears welled in your eyes, and Bucky grabbed your shaking hands.

“Oh, God... oh, God, what did I do...”

“I’m okay, love,” Bucky tried to assure you as you threw yourself against his chest, arms wrapping tightly around him and a world of relief filled him. Your whole body shook with every sob as it made its way through your spine and Bucky rubbed his hand soothingly down your back.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, hands clenching around the thick fabric of his jacket, “I’m so sorry, Bucky, I didn’t-- I didn’t know how to—how to stop--”

“I know, sweetheart. Trust me, I know,” Bucky said, kissing your forehead. There was no control when the triggers were activated, no fighting back. It was a feeling Bucky knew too well.

You nodded against his chest, curling up tighter against him and Bucky did his best to run his hand gently along your back. Steve’s voice came in through the coms letting him know that they’d taken care of the last of the stray agents and he quickly mumbled back that he was clear with you but he needed time. The numbness in his leg long forgotten. The serum in his veins would give him the time he needed.

It took a while before you calmed down again, breaths coming back in an even pace, steady exhales warm against his neck, and your grip on him slowly began to ease. There was something on your mind, something you were ruminating about, because he could feel the heaviness behind your breaths and the subtle twitch in your hands. Bucky swallowed, knowing what was coming.

“You were going to let me kill you, weren’t you?”

Your voice was soft, aching, and so quiet Bucky almost didn’t hear it, but it still managed to make his heart skip a beat. He sighed, not knowing what the right answer was, so he landed on the truth.

“Yes.”

Pulling back, you met his eye and he saw a world of pain swimming behind your irises. “How could you—why would you--” you exhaled, trying to steady yourself, “do you still want to die?”

Bucky’s features softened immediately. He didn’t know how you found out about that, about the darkest moments of his life when he let his secret slip to Steve that night in a Hydra base after he’d killed a dozen men. You were smart, though, intuitive beyond measure, so he shouldn’t be surprised you put the pieces together.

“No,” he responded honestly, sincerely, and the answer would have shocked him if someone had asked him a few months prior. “No, sweetheart, I don’t. I’ve got too much worth living for now, but I... I wasn’t going to let him hurt you, Y/n. It wasn’t a death wish, but it was the only thing I could do to make sure you got out of there alive.”

You shook your head, tears sliding down your face. “But what about you? You think I’d just be okay after all that? You think I’d be able to just move on, that I’d be fine, after I-- I killed you?”

“You’d be alive.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“I know,” Bucky sighed, his hand trailing up the side of your neck and cupping your cheek. You leaned further into his touch, and he brushed his thumb over your cheekbone to capture the tears as they fell. “The one time I was able to break through the conditioning was when I almost killed Steve. I thought... maybe if it came to that, if you were ready to pull the trigger, you might snap out of it like I did.”

“That’s a hell of a bet, Buck.”

Your voice was aching, shaken, and Bucky could hear the lingering heartbreak present behind every word. He knew the gravity of what he was saying, knew he was basically telling you he’d rather you kill him than have to watch you die again, but it was the truth and he was never going to lie to you. Not after all you’d been through.

You collapsed back against his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around him and Bucky didn’t say anything else. He just held you because it was the best he could do, the most he could offer because he’d been where you are right now. He knew what it was like for something so evil and vile to snake its way into your mind and rip you from your body, to watch yourself commit violent acts and have no control of your hands as you pulled triggers on countless victims. He knew the war going on in your mind and the painstaking guilt of it being him on the end of the barrel, the same way it had once been Steve on the end of his.

It changed you. Broke you.

It broke him, too.

***

You didn’t know how long you laid there with him until he finally called for Steve over the coms, letting him know they he was ready for the team to head to the east wing now that things had settled down. One by one they all filtered into the room and you kept your hold tight on Bucky’s waist, face pressed against his neck.

A short glimpse over your shoulder and you found a deep red gash over Steve’s forehead, cracks and chips in the paint of Tony’s suit, blood trailing down Natasha’s arm from the cut of a knife to her shoulder, and a varying mixture of blood, dirt, and dust covering over most of Sam’s exposed skin.

Steve carefully kneeled down by Cain’s body and checked for a pulse he wouldn’t find. You had emptied nearly two full clips into the man. He’d been dead by the third bullet.

Slowly, the team started to piece together what had happened. The open wound in Bucky’s thigh, the red emblem of the Hydra symbol on your chest and the faint markings of black paint around your eyes, eerily similar to what they made Bucky wear the first time he encountered the team on the highway in D.C. The red in your eyes and the flush in your cheeks and they all knew without asking what the man with the scar down his face made you do.

It was Natasha that carefully pried you away from Bucky. He whispered soothing praises in your ear, reminded you he was okay, that he was right here, and wasn’t going anywhere, and you reluctantly released him from your grasp. You curled up against Nat as Steve and Sam propped Bucky up between them so he could favor his right leg.

You muttered another apology to him as he tried to put pressure on it but recoiled in pain, and he was quick to remind you it wasn’t your fault. Sweet, encouraging, lovely smile on his face and he reminded you again and again, because he meant it with everything in him and if he believed you when you said it to him about the horrible things he’d done under Hydra’s control, he’d find a way to make you believe it too.

Nat led you down the hall behind them to the med bay. She tried to steer you away from the chaos of bodies and SHIELD agents you encountered along the way, but it was no use. There were too many of them. SHIELD agents cuffing the Hydra affiliates they managed to capture alive, cleaning crews coming in to remove the dead bodies and the pools of blood in their wake. Tony urged the rest of you on while he stayed behind to help organize where to send the Hydra agents for custody.

Some of the Hydra agents tried to taunt you as you walked by, sneering at their emblem on your chest and calling you ‘Destroyer’, but Steve had left Bucky in Sam’s hold just long enough to scare the men into keeping their mouths shut as he flung his shield into the wall just above one of the men’s head. It clipped off the ends of his hair as it embedded itself into the wall and the room silence immediately.

Tony rolled his eyes, listing off another task that needed to be taken care of to the damage control staff as he yanked the shield out from the wall.

Steve grumbled under his breath, sending a wink at you, before he swung Bucky’s arm back over his shoulders and continued down the hall. You surprised yourself as a soft smile lifted your chapped lips to see the agent quivering where he sat.

When you made it back to the med bay, Dr. Cho was waiting with a bandage over her head and a kinder smile on her face than you deserved after you’d attacked her less than an hour earlier. Steve and Sam helped Bucky into the bed and she cut a strip up his pant leg to expose the bullet wound on his thigh.

A team of nurses came up behind you and tried to pull you out of the room to examine you themselves but a jolt of panic rushed through you, eyes catching on Bucky and he sat up further on the bed.

“She’s fine here,” he ordered, glancing to Dr. Cho who nodded at the nurses to step back.

“I’ll examine Agent Y/l/n myself once I’ve finished with Sergeant Barnes,” she said and you exhaled a steady breath, leaning into Natasha as she helped usher you to the seat by Bucky’s bed.

Slumping into the chair, Bucky reached down and grabbed a hold of your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips and kissing them tenderly, enough to remind you he was there and to keep your head from spinning in the clouds. You smiled at him though it didn’t reach your eyes, but he understood. It was the most you could manage for now.

Dr. Cho worked silently as she retracted the bullet lodged in his thigh. Bucky did his best to keep his face stoic, to not let you have to see an ounce of pain as Dr. Cho pulled the metal fragments from his leg, but the subtle twitch of his upper lip and the furrow of his brow were enough. You squeezed his hand harder, a silent apology and Bucky turned to you, softening his features quickly and tugged you closer to him. Always so understanding, so forgiving, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

A few hours later, after Dr. Cho used some kind of laser to seal Bucky’s wound together and she attended to the minor scars and scraps on your arms, Tony came barreling in with a laptop with Sam and Steve hot on his heels. Natasha sauntered in after them casually and sent you a wink before she collapsed into the chair in the corner of the room.

“So, I found out who the asshole with the scar is,” Tony grunted, propping the laptop up on the edge of the bed. An image of Cain illuminated in the top right corner of the screen and you leaned in closer to Bucky, feeling your heartrate elevate just as the sight of that man.

“Alex Cainning,” Tony started, “was dishonorably discharged from the US Army back in 2010 for a series of physical altercations against his own unit members. Made him an easy recruit for Hydra. Looks like he was a part of the Winter Soldier project for a few years, too.”

You looked to Bucky, wide eyed, to find he was just as surprised. He’d recognized Cain’s voice but he had assumed it was from the videos, not because he’d known him in his past life under Hydra. It would explain his vendetta against Bucky for escaping.

“So, he’s a certified bad guy,” Sam shrugged, rolling his eyes, “he’s dead. What does this matter?”

Tony pursed his lips, sending a scowl in Sam’s direction, before turned back to you and Bucky. “I thought the two people whose lives have been uprooted by this monster might want to know that because of this intel, we tracked down the base he held Y/n at. I’ve got a team of agents heading there as we speak to blow the joint to kingdom come.”

“That includes the machine they used to condition both of you,” Steve added, a hopeful edge of lips curving up at the ends.

Bucky nodded, a wave of relief present on his face and you pressed yourself to his side, arm wrapping over his waist as he pulled you tight against him. Warm and solid and tangible in your hands, you breathed him in, smelling of copper and sweat and lingering florals from your body wash. The never-ending enigma that was Bucky Barnes.

“It’s really over?” he asked cautiously, unsure, because it never had been before.

Tony nodded. “We’ll have to ship Y/n off to Wakanda soon so Shuri can get those words out of her head, but the good news is that she already has the procedure down after spending all that time experimenting on Barnes.”

You laughed into Bucky’s chest, smile obstructed by the thick Kelvar of his vest but he could feel the movement in your back, the vibration in your chest, and it eased him more than anything else. Tony went onto explain the logistics, of how he was readying a jet as they spoke and had already put in a call to T’Challa to let him know you’d be on your way. Shuri was more than excited to have someone else to test her procedure on and while Bucky stiffened at that, you only laughed more.

It was an odd feeling, to have such laughter in your chest and smiles on your faces while you wore a Hydra emblem on your suit and Bucky was held up in a hospital bed from the bullet you’d shot into his leg. But your world was full of chaos and unpredictability and nothing was ever guaranteed. This makeshift family of yours was the only constant in your life, the dynamics between them, the push and pull, the teasing and the heartbreak.

They would hold you together. Even through the worst. They’d pull you back from darkness.

----

ahh one more chapter to go! feedback is always so so appreciated! pls reblog and comment if you enjoyed

tags ❄️ @sweetheartbarnes / @musiclover1263 / @pies-wands-and-more / @buckygrantbarnes / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @panic-naran / @fairislesheets / @kaliforniacoastalteens / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @daydreamsquad / @deanssweetheart / @maybesomedaytho / @montypythonsholysnail / @saharzek / @jillybeaner13 / @chubby-dumplin / @searchingforbucky / @alohafromhell1 / @tabalugax / @shesalatesh / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @aliensbecameourstyle / @bucksgoat / @serpensortiaaa / @trash-rats-unite / @hungry-pasta / @nervosaa / @lbuck121/ @get0verit / @obama-mia / @imsoft-barnes / @this-broken-band-girl / @michelehansel / @itz-kira / @forever157 / @grey-water-colors / @sebastianstan-posts / @sarcastic-and-cool / @no-clue-whats-happenin / @capsgrl / @happyeyesandsunshine / @slithredn / @13sunken-ships13 / @thefandomplace / @wxstedhexrt / @jennmurawski13 / @galaxkay / @moonlessnight14/ @kittybritty7 / @pancakefancake / @vitamingrant / @justendlesssummerfeels

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #marvel #bucky barnes x female reader #guiding light

1K notes · View notes

aimlessplayer · 3 years

Text

cleanse all your stress

(On AO3)

Summary: When Shigaraki is weirdly resistant to caring for his hygiene, Twice decides to lend him a hand. The pieces start to click together in the process.

Tags: (Platonic) Bathing and Hair Washing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, All For One’s Bad Parenting, Past Sexual Abuse, Flashbacks, PTSD, Shigaraki is Touch-Starved, Twice is a Good Friend

Notes: cw: past csa, past child neglect, flashbacks, non-explicit but overt references to past csa

"Shigaraki, you should take a shower before we head out!"

"Huh?"

With all the others off on their own, only Twice and Tomura were left in need of somewhere to stay overnight, (well, Twice needed somewhere to stay overnight--Tomura didn't mind borrowing the room's outlets for his phone and 3DS,) so they ended up sharing a crummy motel room. Tomura was fully expecting to head out after Twice finished his morning cigarette--he'd already packed away his handheld consoles and everything--but instead, now Twice is holding out their pair of travel shampoo and soap to him.

"You didn't take one at the last place; you need it! You stink! Nice and clean!"

Tomura narrows his eyes at him, before glancing over to the bathroom, nails already attacking his own neck. Through the doorway he can only see a single corner of porcelain that makes up the tub, but the dread still hits Tomura hard enough that he has to look away.

"I don't want to."

"Ahh, come on, Shigaraki! Pretty please? For me?" Twice pleads, waving the products in front of him again.

Tomura grits his teeth as his nails dig harder into his skin, torn between that dread and knowing his members deserve better behavior from their leader.

"No," he growls. "If it bugs you that much then just stay away from me."

"Shigaraki…"

Twice seems to wilt in defeat, before snapping right back up.

"What if I did it for you?"

Tomura's fingers pause. He casts a questioning glance in Twice's direction.

"I need a shower, too! I'll take one later! If we take a bath together, I can wash your hair and stuff for you! Baths are for kids! You'll only need to get in the water!"

Tomura can't do anything but stare; he knows he's being childish, and he really didn't expect Twice to accommodate that so fully. He's so stunned by the offer alone that he forgets to even consider his answer.

He must take too long to respond, because Twice bows his head and claps his hands together--still holding the products, which crashes them together and nearly pops the cap off the shampoo--and cries, "Please, Shigaraki!"

Tomura finally snaps out of his stupor. "Fine, fine…"

At least he won't be alone with his thoughts. That's the biggest problem, isn't it? All he has to do is sit back and let it happen, like he used to. He pushes himself up before Twice can respond, digging his gloves out of his pocket while making a beeline for the bathroom so that he can set the water's temperature himself. Twice shouts his thanks behind him.

Stripping in front of another man while the water runs... It's so familiar he can almost fall into that memory, so much so that he half expects to feel Twice's hands strip off his jumpsuit for him. He doesn't though, of course, busy getting rid of his own clothing. Once he's naked, Tomura shuts off the water, then presses himself back against the sink to make room for Twice to squeeze by, letting the cold porcelain pressing against his side ground him.

Sensei had bathed him long after most children would have grown out of it, so in Tomura's mind it had always been a sort of group activity; trying to do it by himself brought on such a feeling of loneliness that he preferred to avoid it entirely. He hadn't ever taught Tomura how to bathe himself, either. He's sure he could have asked Kurogiri at some point in the last six years, but that would have meant having to accept that All For One wouldn't be around to do it anymore, so he never did.

Twice steps his foot into the water and hisses, quickly pulling it back out before whipping his head around to look at Tomura. "It's freezing! Too hot!"

Tomura crosses his arms. "Yeah. Hot water irritates my skin."

Tomura is acutely aware he's completely bare to Twice's eyes, making no effort to remain modest (even if his pulse is skirting something frantic). If anything, the way he's leaning back against the sink is jutting his hips forward--yet, Twice's eyes never wander, staying fully fixed on his face.

"What?! You always keep the water this cold, Shigaraki?!"

Tomura scowls. "Yeah. You said you wanted me to bathe, this is how I do it. Just get in."

"Geez…!" Twice exclaims, eyes finally leaving his face to wince in some sort of sympathy. "I wouldn't wanna do that. Let's jump in!"

Twice stares down at the water, before bracing himself for the chill and settling in, complete with barely suppressed noises of distress.

With Twice squeezed inside it, Tomura suddenly notices how much smaller this tub is compared to the one he and All For One shared. He knew he was most likely going to be in Twice's lap either way, but it'll probably be closer than he was originally expecting.

"O-okay, your turn!" Twice is quick to beckon Tomura over, arms outstretched with a look of urgency on his face.

Tomura doesn't know what's going to happen when he gets in; if it'll be similar to baths with his sensei, if Twice will touch him, if it'll be quick, or awkward. He doesn't know if Twice's hands will wander, or be rough, or if he'll flirt and bend him over the edge of the tub.

He does know that he doesn't really care, and he'll accept whatever's thrown at him in the end. Like always. As he steps over the porcelain barrier into the tub, that sense of acceptance increases, falling easily into the expectation of past routine as he settles himself onto Twice's lap. Twice is quick to wrap his arms around him and pull Tomura to his chest with a sigh of relief, head buried against his shoulder.

Tomura feels numb, like his skin is impossibly cold and nothing can quite penetrate the layer of ice.

"Come on, it's not that bad," Tomura chides softly, letting his head lull back to rest in the crook of Twice's shoulder.

He takes a quiet deep breath. Twice's scent is comforting - very present, but not like sensei's, who doused himself in expensive cologne that would fill the room and overpower everything else. While sensei's scent always made Tomura feel alert, Twice's puts him at ease.

"I know, I know..." Twice replies, "I just need a minute to adjust!"

Suddenly unfolding himself from around Tomura, Twice claps his hands together and says, "Let's get started!"

Tomura can't completely suppress his smile at Twice's predictable unpredictability. With practiced discipline, Tomura peels himself away from Twice's chest to allow easier access to his hair, leaning forward a bit while Twice drags a washcloth beneath the water to wet it.

His eyes habitually fall shut when he hears the water break. While Twice wrings out the water above his head to wet his hair, Tomura finds himself surprised at how easily the sensation makes him sink into memories; with each breath he draws he expects to smell that expensive cologne again. Nostalgia twists painfully in his chest--it's so familiar it almost makes him want to cry.

He's snapped out of his trance when Twice's fingers begin working the shampoo into his hair, jarringly small compared to the ones he was expecting. His eyes crack open, peering down at the water and disoriented to see how long his own legs are, resting on top of tanner thighs that aren't as wide as the ones he was used to.

"You should at least brush your hair once in a while if you're not gonna shower..." Twice chides as he struggles to get his fingers through the knots, oblivious to Tomura's dizzied state.

He doesn't think he could reply even if he wanted to, even with the grounding sound of Twice's voice. His throat feels sealed off, as it so often seemed to be when he was younger--and his head feels too light. He glances around the dingy bathroom to remind himself of where he is, because each time he blinks he expects he'll be somewhere bigger, brighter and cleaner than he really is.

The more he grounds himself, the more he appreciates the feeling of Twice's fingers stroking his scalp, even if they keep catching on knots and pulling.

"Sorry, Shigaraki!"

It's his own fault, anyway. Sensei never apologized for pulling Tomura's hair; if he didn't want it to happen, then he should have just kept it brushed (even if he was often too tired to lift his arms above his head, kept up by nightmares for days on end.)

He doesn't sleep often enough for nightmares to be a problem anymore, but the fatigue is just as bad. Same goes for washing his hair, or brushing his teeth; it's always either too tiring or there's something more important to use his energy for. The habits just never stuck.

"Tilt your head back for me?"

Tomura obeys, eyes slipping shut in preparation for the water. To his surprise, he feels Twice press the edge of his hand to his forehead, shielding his face from the pouring water while he rinses the shampoo out.

It's such a simple gesture, but something about it catches on his mind. He doesn't think All For One ever protected his eyes for him… He certainly appreciates not having water running down his face and irritating it. He can't help but lean into the warmth of Twice's hand; he can't even remember the last time he was touched this kindly.

If Twice notices the way Tomura is nudging himself under his hand like a needy cat then he doesn't say anything. The contact is short-lived; the shampoo is quickly rinsed from his hair and the hand removed to instead handle soap and a washcloth.

This is the part where Tomura gets… nervous.

He hates to admit that, but the pulse pounding in his ears is unmistakable. He'll stay and accept it regardless, but he's anticipating a total loss of control. As much as he likes the warmth of Twice's hands, he's relieved that the soap is going onto the rag, instead of being spread around his body directly, like Sensei often did.

As Twice scrubs him over, Tomura can see patches of his pale skin slowly revealed as the layers of dirt are loosened and then washed away. He watches brown steadily stream down his arms and fade into the tub water. (Was he really that dirty…?)

Twice rests one hand on Tomura's shoulder while the other works. His movements over his skin are thorough, but quick--he doesn't linger like Sensei, who would give certain areas of Tomura's body special attention until- until- ...until it responded.

Tiny fists push against the porcelain edge of the tub as Tomura lifts himself up out of the water, his hips tilted forward to present his problem.

"Make it better, sensei…"

Nausea stabs into his torso, resulting in a harsh shudder as Tomura tries to shake the memory from his mind.

"Shigaraki, you're shaking! It's too cold!" Twice cries, reaching around him for the faucet. "Let's turn the heat up, okay?"

Tomura's hand snaps out to grab Twice's wrist.

"No," God, please no- "It'll make me itch more."

Baths with sensei were hot. Almost scalding, sometimes. He remembers how cold the air felt when he was pulled out, how sensei would lay him dripping wet on his bed, would tear his hands away from his neck and kiss the scratches all better.

The thought of being surrounded by that heat again…

"You're warm enough, anyway," Tomura concludes, leaning back against Twice's chest as if to prove his point. His free hand shakes where it clutches the edge of the tub, but he's mindful not to dig his nails into Twice's skin with the other--though he refuses to let go until his hand finally moves away from the hot water valve.

"Toga and I could go steal you some moisturizer, you know! You don't gotta take cold baths!" Twice offers. "Do it yourself!"

Tomura is pulled out of his thoughts, turning his head to look up at Twice, suddenly feeling a flare of pain on his neck where his nails had subconsciously dug in. "...Huh? Would that help?"

"Your skin's too dry, and the hot water makes it worse. That's why it itches," he says, watching Tomura with a notable absence of hunger as he continues his ministrations over Tomura's chest.

Tomura's thoughts shift away from the past and towards the future as he peers back down at the water. Could it really be solved that easily...? Even if it could, would he be able to handle warm baths again?

Twice shifts his grip on Tomura's shoulder to be a little lower while he runs the washcloth over them, the warmth of it radiating a little deeper than before. He tries to picture it, if the water was warm now--and he thinks he'd be too afraid.

"Shigaraki, is it okay if I wash your neck?" Twice asks, pulling the rag away from his skin.

"...Hm?"

"I mean- is it going to be alright? I don't want to make your scratching worse. Who cares!"

"...It's fine," Tomura answers mildly, even if there's some odd feeling wriggling its way through his chest again. "It's already wet, anyway."

"Okay!" Twice chirps, beginning to scrub at the back of his neck.

Tomura makes a conscious decision not to scratch after Twice rinses away the suds, even though he wants to. Not because the water made it itch, but because he wants to dispel the discomfort of having Twice so mindfully tend to his needs. Instead he sighs, which unfortunately catches Twice's attention as well.

"Don't worry, we're almost done!" he assures, to which Tomura mumbles something he hopes is passively reassuring despite his total lack of enthusiasm. Twice's estimate is accurate though; not long after, he's finished soaping up the remainder Tomura's body and rinsing away the suds.

"Okay, let's turn the nozzle on and rinse off, then you can hop out while I shower!"

"Mm. Thanks," he replies half-mindedly.

"...Shigaraki?"

Tomura doesn't move from Twice's lap. Instead, he picks at his fingers and stares down at the water for a long moment.

"...Shouldn't I… help you…?" he finally murmurs. Twice blinks.

"...Huh? Wasn't the whole point of this so that you wouldn't have to do it yourself?"

"I'm not doing it myself, you're with me," Tomura retorts, finally regaining movement. He twists himself around until he's sitting sideways in Twice's lap, peering up at the man.

"Where do I start?"

Twice takes a moment to stare, wide-eyed and confused. His hands hover in the air while he tries to find somewhere to put them that isn't on Tomura.

"...Ah, most people start with their hair?" he finally offers.

Tomura glances over at their two travel-sized bath products, peering at their labels before picking up the shampoo, gaze flicking up to Twice.

"This one, right?"

Twice gives an affirming nod, so Tomura pops the lid open and starts squeezing the gel onto his hand, speaking as he does.

"How much do I use?"

"Just enough to-- Woah, that's enough!" Twice says. "No, add more!"

Tomura pauses, tilting the bottle upright again. He glances between Twice's baffled expression and the glob of product almost filling his palm, deducing that it's probably too much. He feels a pang of regret at wasting their limited supply, wondering if there's a way to get it back in the bottle, or if he's going to have to throw the whole handful out and use even more.

But Twice just laughs, and tilts his head forward.

"Now just… work it in!"

"Should I spread it over my hands first, or…?"

"Sure, that can help cover everything more evenly. There's no right way to do it! Just try to make sure you get all of it!"

There's too much; the moment Tomura starts pressing his palms together, the excess globs off the sides of his hands. He spreads what remains over his fingers and palms, trying to avoid coating his gloves as much as possible.

As he reaches up to run his hands through Twice's hair, an intense discomfort that he doesn't pay much attention to washes over him, more focused on the task at hand. He's alarmed by how quickly the product comes off despite how much of it there is, seeming more inclined to collect in one place despite Tomura's efforts to smooth it further back.

He hears a soft laugh from Twice, and it finally dawns on him that he should quit petting him and do it like Sensei used to, or how Twice had been all of five minutes ago. He threads his fingers through Twice's hair, gently rubbing the product in with his fingertips. He's stuck by how hot Twice's scalp feels, wondering if that's normal or if he should ask if he feels feverish--then freezes as a realization hits.

Has he ever touched someone like this before?

The movement of his hands continues just a second later. Sensei certainly never had Tomura bathe him in their time together; Tomura tried to avoid touching him at all, for fear of making him disappear, and he doesn't touch his comrades for similar reasons. His hands are weapons--they're not meant to comfort or to hold, only to destroy.

Yet here he is, sitting in a man's lap, running his fingers through his hair. It's so alien, touching someone without feeling them grow cold and give away under his hands. He remembers how long the feeling of Midoriya's warmth beneath his hand and pressed against his side had lingered after the mall, how often that memory nagged at his mind.

It's even more jarring when it's someone he actually cares about. He's hyperaware of every little movement Twice makes under his fingers, leaning into the touch or tilting his head to give Tomura better access.

Twice watches him closely from beneath his lashes while he finishes coating his hair in a slick layer.

"Hey, Shigaraki… do you not… know how to bathe?"

"How long should we wait?" Tomura asks instead, lowering his hands from Twice's head, trying to get rid of the lingering shampoo on them by running them through the water.

"Not long."

Tomura settles back and rests his hands on his knees in silence, watching them closely as the feeling of Twice's hair running beneath his fingers lingers in his mind, ignoring the feeling of Twice's eyes on him.

"...So," Twice starts suddenly, "normally someone would put in conditioner after washing the shampoo out! Obviously we don't have any, but in an ideal situation."

"Mm."

"Also, conditioner always goes in after shampoo, alright? Remember that! It's pointless to put it in before, because the shampoo would just get rid of it."

"Mm."

"And if you do use conditioner, do it before you wash your body. It's good for your hair, but bad for your skin! So, in order: shampoo, conditioner, soap."

"Mm."

"Okay, you can rinse it out now."

Tomura takes the washcloth and soaks it. Twice tilts his head back and pinches his eyes shut in preparation for the water, and Tomura presses the edge of his hand to Twice's hairline, trying to protect his sutures as much as possible while he washes the suds out of his hair. It's only after Tomura has rewet the washcloth for the second rinse that he glances back up and notices Twice watching. His eyes are half lidded, full of gratitude and some surprise while a smile tugs at his lips.

"What's that look for?" Tomura grumbles, reaching up to squeeze out the rag over Twice's hair. His smile wobbles before becoming a grin, eyes squeezing back shut.

"Sorry!--" Twice's breath hits Tomura's face when he speaks, alerting him to how closely he's leaned in. "--This is nice, is all."

Twice exhales at the exact time Tomura takes a breath, and the way breathing another person's air makes his lungs feel floaty sends him back--a flash of a memory fills his mind, of being held in his sensei's lap while they pant in each other's faces.

It's gone as soon as it arrives, but the feelings remain. Tomura realizes he's wrung out the washcloth so tightly his knuckles have turned white.

"Is it…" he murmurs half mindedly, lowering the rag back into the water. Despite how the memory has his stomach churning, he doesn't feel inclined to move further away so that they're not breathing the same air. The idea of having this sort of closeness with someone other than Sensei is… interesting. New.

He feels a sense of smallness wash over him as it so often does when he's met with foreign experiences. Usually that vulnerability makes him want to destroy something to reassert control, but he thinks…

...He thinks it's okay here.

After a couple more rinses, he smooths his hand over Twice's hair one last time to make sure there's no remaining shampoo, then lowers both of his hands, finally backing away a bit.

"So, what now?" he asks, eyeing the bottle of soap.

"Just soap up the rag and scrub!" Twice says. "Don't use so much this time! Soap spreads better than shampoo, so don't worry about that."

Tomura follows his instructions, adding less than half the amount of the shampoo he had used. Tomura hesitates with the rag in his hand as he glances up at Twice, who just smiles and settles back on his hands, watching him expectantly--but with none of the judgement he was so used to from Sensei. Tomura slowly places his free hand on Twice's shoulder, watching his expression carefully as he lifts the rag towards his neck. He doesn't tense or recoil like Tomura expects him to, just lifts his chin to expose his neck further.

So he presses the washcloth to his skin and starts to rub. He can see the soap start to lather, and thinks it'll be easier to actually get everything than he'd thought. When Tomura works down towards Twice's collar bone, he sighs pleasantly and lets his head roll back.

"Shigaraki…! So gentle!" Twice appraises. It almost makes Tomura have to pause for a moment.

It's such a jarring thing to hear said about himself. Of all the words that have been used to describe him--crazy, brat, freak, twisted--'gentle' has no place among them. To think someone would regard him with such a term… He tries to tell himself it's just Twice saying embarrassing Twice things as usual, because the feeling of warmth stirring in his chest is so alien that it's unbearable.

However, he is trying to be gentle; he's rarely touched anybody without the intent to kill before, and he sincerely has no idea how much pressure hurts. Twice has done a lot for him today; the least he owes him in return is some caution. He scrubs the rag over his shoulder, then leans in to slide it around the back of his neck, trying to avoid looking up at Twice's face that is filled with far too much warmth.

Moving lower, Tomura has to practically embrace him to wash his back. Twice had wrapped his arms around him earlier, sure, but then Tomura was still wired and half expecting to be bent over and railed. The warmth felt intrusive, in whatever distant, pinpricking way he'd felt it--but now he really does feel it when Twice's chest brushes against his own, and it's hard not to throw himself into that welcoming warmth.

God, he feels like a little kid again. It's been years since he last spent time with Sensei, and he'd worked hard to suppress that desire to be wrapped up in someone's arms and spoken softly to--but now he feels like he's bursting at the seams.

He manages to resist pressing himself into him, but he still syncs their breathing so that their chests press against each other with each inhale. He's so engrossed in the feeling of Twice's skin that he nearly forgets he's supposed to be bathing him.

Washing a broader area is a bit harder. His movements are clumsy and uncertain, and he can't find a decent way to hold the rag so that it doesn't slip out from under his hand. It leaves him red-faced with embarrassment, and a sharp pain radiating through his jaw tells him he's clenching his teeth too tight.

Ugh- he's getting all worked up… He should have just left Father on.

Tomura draws back hesitantly after a job not-so well done, avoiding eye contact while idly scrubbing at Twice's upper arm (because the idea of working down to his chest startles him).

"...Sorry. I'm bad at this."

"You're doing fine, Shigaraki!" Twice assures. "It'd be easier if we had a sponge!"

Surprised to go uncriticized, Tomura follows the rest of Twice's pointers and direction as he scrubs down the rest of him. Tomura isn't sure if Twice picks up on his hesitance or not, but it's a lot easier to wash his slightly more personal areas, like his chest, when he's idly rambling about this and that and not paying attention to Tomura's hands.

"Let's drain the water and get rinsed off!"

"I'd always wondered why you avoided taking showers!" Twice announces while he ducks through the shower curtain and practically leaps out of the tub. "Now it makes sense--you didn't know how!"

Tomura gives a low, neutral hum that bounces around the wet walls, standing under the spray and scowling at no one. The water's much colder coming from the showerhead, and he rushes through rinsing off. Even then, Tomura is already shivering by the time he's turning off the water and following after Twice, who's still toweling off.

Tomura grabs the remaining one off the rack and wraps it around his waist, then settles down on the edge of the tub. He's drained, and the chill certainly doesn't help. He stares blankly at the mat on the floor, head full of unheard thoughts--until his vision abruptly goes dark as Twice drapes another towel over his head.

"It's okay to ask for help with things like that, you know!" he starts while rubbing at Tomura's hair. For a moment, he has trouble keeping balance under Twice's movements until his body finally remembers how to tense up again.

"People like us… haven't always had the chance to learn "normal" stuff. I don't know normal stuff either!" he continues. "So you can just ask us, and if none of us know either, we'll figure it out together!"

Twice slows down, now squeezing the ends of his hair into the towel. Tomura is quiet for a long time.

Tomura would do just about anything for the members of his League, and he believes they'll always back him up when it comes to their shared goals, but… for one of them to go out of their way to help him? With something that isn't even important?

Tomura has to sit with that for a minute.

Eventually, he speaks up softly from beneath Twice's gentle motions. "Twice…"

"Hm?" Twice hums idly. He pauses drying his hair when Tomura stays quiet a little too long, nudging the towel back a bit so that he can just see his face poking out below. Tomura can't meet his eye.

"...If I try the moisturizer thing, and it works, and I can start using hot water… would you… take more baths with me?"

Tomura finally glances up at the end of his question. Twice is stunned by his bluntness, judging by the way he's staring with his mouth slightly agape. He's quick to shake the surprise off, though, and his expression melts into something warm and fond, with a smile that crinkles his eyes at the edges.

"Sure!"

...

"Do you not know how to brush your teeth either?"

"Ugh- I already took a bath for you, I'm not doing that too."

"I can do it for you!"

"No."

#shigaraki tomura #twice bnha #bubaigawara jin #bnha #fanfic #long post #csa tw #child abuse tw #neglect tw #my writing

45 notes · View notes

virgil-writes · 3 years

Photo

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (eventual Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

chapter 4 - the hag’s cabin

SFW, mentions blood and mutilation, around 2K words.

It was like he had snapped out of a bad dream.

A flash of red blinded him for just a moment, hand shooting up to cover his eyes as he stood up straight, fingertips dripping with blood that wasn’t his. He opened his eyes to a much clearer view of the woods, a pressure relieved from his shoulders, and a strange yet friendly face staring down at him with avid curiosity. Blood-tinted eyes watched him closely, an amiable smile on her wrinkled face. The hag’s skin was light enough to glow in the scant moonlight, spindly silver hair wild and framing her face in the most awkward of ways. He was reminded of Mother’s little game of disguise, the unassuming crone of riddles and wisdom.

Maybe it was Mother all along, and in that case, he better be on his best behavior. She was surely capable of it all, confusing him on the path and assuming the form of some horrible abomination; but why would she bother? She did seem genuinely surprised, perhaps even wary. Was this another one of her games to keep them all on their toes? To ensure obedience, another way of displaying her powers to remind him that even at his best, he was not an omniscient near-god. In her eyes, he was a second class citizen with a thing for tinkering that she kept around. A dangerous, homicidally inclined one, but a second class failure nonetheless.

The hag’s dirty clothes fluttered in the wind, the smell of death seeming to emanate from within her bones, strong enough to choke him. For a moment, he expected her to cackle, conjure up a staff made of bones to wave at him while she spoke her nonsense, telling him to repent and surrender to the Black God. Instead she laboriously extended a frail hand to help him up, blackened fingertips offering him no comfort.

“Come closer, dear, let us have a look at you.” She spoke at last, tender, almost motherly, her voice sounding like a legion of disjointed souls pooling together to form a sentence. She took a step in his direction when he did not answer, bones cracking with effort, frame barely supporting her own weight. It looked to him as if her every movement was torture, like she had been living on borrowed time for far too long and the earth had grown tired of waiting to reclaim her to dust. “Let us bathe you, take care of you.” Her words were sweet, her tone malicious. “Everything will be fine.”

Oh, yes, naturally. She looked like she had come straight out of a fairytale book, but surely it would all end up alright. It would all be fine, surely, him being bathed in a large bubbling cauldron with herbs and salt for soap, trapped inside a cage being fattened for later use in culinary endeavors. The fat on his body would be used for tallow, the skin for the shade of some lamp, the heart to power said lamp.

“Think I’ll pass.” Was all he could say through gritted teeth, barely a whisper in the dissonance of his thoughts. Her snicker was low and delighted, form fading away in a cloud of crimson mist.

The terror that had consumed him had disappeared just as quickly as it had taken hold, his racing heart and staggered breathing giving way to the burning rage and overconfidence he usually carried with him. He looked around for the yellow flowers Donna used to trick people’s minds, for any sign that what he had witnessed was an illusion. The snow felt real as he crushed it with his fingers, the wind caressed him just so to keep him alert and awake. Heisenberg looked down at himself to look for anything that might be amiss, a misshaped piece of fabric, a hue that looked off; he counted ten fingers, pulled back his sleeve to look at his wristwatch, numbers crisp and clear. Not a dream, not a hallucination. Sheer terror, like he had not felt in years, adrenaline pumping in his veins to make him feel alive after decades of keeping his nose just above the water. Despite it all, he felt light as a feather. In a way, he felt free.

He rose to his feet to take the path ahead, ducking to miss the arch of the twisted tunnel, holding onto branches and feeling like they held onto him in return. A mere couple of meters away, a crude fence and wooden gate separated him from a clearing he had never seen. Slabs of stone marked the way towards it, visible despite the icy landscape, their surface well-worn and freshly disturbed. Had the hag come this way? Would he meet a series of monsters that made him offers he could not refuse, like the tales Miranda had concocted of him and his siblings?

He knew the mountain held a multitude of paths and clearings, nooks and crannies untouched by man and lost to time, mazes and caves and all manners of things he had only read in old books of fiction. The villagers would always say there was much that surrounded them, not altogether pleasant, older than them, older than the bones of this earth. Monsters and spirits, legends lost just beyond the village gates. Even as a child, swallowing his fear like a bitter pill, he labeled them all fools, pawns in the hands of a cruel bitch who kept them isolated, a flock of tarnished sheep that would never break free of their bonds. And yet it seemed the joke was on him, was it not? Here he was, mother’s prophecy fulfilled, standing alone in the forest deep, lost like the child who ran away to pick berries, having just witnessed something he could not explain.

Heisenberg peered into the trees in silence, breathing labored and pulse too loud in his ears. He watched for eyes in the forest, long fingers that camouflaged in the tree bark. Silver hair mistaken for spider webs, humanoid shadows that tricked the unwary. All he sees is a curious hare that stops to stare at him before going deeper into the woods to find its den, all he hears are the sounds of the night and the forest alive at last.

The smell of rotting carcasses inundated his nostrils as he walked, a series of carefully placed, crusty wooden stakes protruding from the ground like sickly trees that refused to wither. Blood dripped and congealed at its base, the decapitated heads of lycans and samcas and moroaicas neatly impaled, but looking so alive. He could almost hear it, the groaning and stretching of broken jaws as they tried to break free.

An incredulous smile crept up to his lips as he reached out to touch a nearby lycan’s head, skin soft and clammy underneath his fingers, veins protruding on swollen flesh. Sharp teeth and exposed gums, no doubt a lycan, and he is too slow to react when the creature bites down onto his hand and all but tears the skin between his thumb and index fingers. It tries to finish the job but cannot break free, just enough movement to open and close its jaw, and Heisenberg looks down in disbelief to his bleeding hand, to the monster that should have turned to dust.

He reaches for the hammer in a half-horrified haze, swings with full strength to knock the stake to the ground, amazed when all heads spring to life and groan at him in a last breath that would never end. His morbid curiosity has him bring the hammer over his head and down onto the earth, bones cracking with the impact as the failed experiment finally crumbles to dust beneath the metal. What kind of fuckery was this? The pain in his right hand felt too real to be an illusion, the blood dripping onto his boots too viscous to be a trick of the mind. His mind spun with theories, with curiosity. Before he leaves, he should confiscate one of these for further study at the factory.

Heisenberg could hardly contain his excitement as he vaulted over the fence, anxious for the next chapter of this night full of surprises. He expected a gruesome display; an altar proudly displaying a sacrifice, the hunched over beast he had met before munching on an animal corpse. The hag kneeling by the stream, washing bloody clothes as a presage of war and death. A circle of witches chanting in tongues and cursing his entire, nonexistent bloodline for generations to come. An enchanted maiden with a delicate bosom and sinuous form inviting him to ravage her innocence, only to eat him alive liver first in a fit of madness.

Instead he was greeted by a curious chicken peeking at him from a hole in the trellis of its coop, a tiny goat grazing by his feet. There was a horse, real this time, penned in and cozy for the night, oblivious to his presence.

The small hoofed animal doesn’t seem bothered when Heisenberg grabs it unceremoniously, inspects its fur and hoofs and horns, pinches at its flesh for any hint of supernatural. On the contrary, the goat seems to enjoy it, tiny tail wagging rapidly as Heisenberg stares it down like one would an annoying baby that is too cute for one to be angry at. It seems almost sad when it is put back down onto the snow, gives Heisenberg a tentative headbutt and walks away in defeat when he ignores it to investigate the rest of the place.

A small cabin stood just beyond, green shingles on the roof and walls covered in clay, narrow porch and swinging front door, a light bleeding out into the night through the narrow window of the attic. Suspiciously innocuous. There were no chicken legs, it was not made of sweets, and instead of decay, what he smelled made his stomach growl in response. He would eat that damn black horse the moment he saw it again, leg first as he moved up his feast.

A delicate wreath of wildflowers adorned the red door, slightly ajar to encourage his exploration. He did not recognize the symbol drawn just beneath his feet at the threshold - was it a warning? A welcome message? Heisenberg made sure to remain perfectly quiet as he stepped inside, taking care that his boots would not squeak against the wooden boards. The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, the colorful woven rug a pleasant change from the bleak scenario of ice and death. He pushed the door all the way to reveal a room that was equal parts cozy and mysterious.

To his right was a wood stove, a bucket of firewood resting beside it, white ceramic kettle embellished with blue flowers whistling loudly on top. A shelf stocked with grain and spices stood just beyond, hooks with a multitude of pots and pans beneath it. The small kitchen also had a rustic counter and ceramic sink, cutting board and bone-white knife abandoned halfway through a large carrot. The small dinner table was set for two, a pair of teacups resting at the end of it. There was no sign of electricity, candles and lanterns of wrought iron working double time to ward off the dark of night.

He walked further in to to look at the rest of it, the diminutive living room that was also kitchen and dining area. The couch was a wooden skeleton covered in coarse fabric, cushions looking like they had patched a thousand times over. Somehow, they looked leagues more comfortable than any of Alcina’s fancy armchairs. Dusty tomes fought for space on a wooden stool beside it, candle wax frozen solid halfway over the edge onto the ground. A rickety ladder was almost hidden next to it, woolen socks overhanging one of the steps.

Right in front of him, on the far wall, was a sturdy brick fireplace, cast iron pot hanging over it, the tasty looking stew he had smelled from outside bubbling invitingly. A soft whimper alerted him to the presence of a furry creature curled up in front of the fire, looking compact despite its real size, oblivious to his presence and sound asleep. Heisenberg chuckled as he walked closer and bent down to pet it with a little too much force, the shaggy shepherd hound lifting its head to look at him in annoyance before busying itself with its nap once again, too tired to give a fuck about anything else. Craning his body to the left he peeked at the mezzanine, candle lit but bed empty. No one home, it seemed.

It was difficult to remain quiet when anger bubbled under the first layer of his skin; he was furious at his Mother and sister, at whoever had pulled the stupid prank earlier. He had been sent on a wild goose chase, had gotten lost in the woods, had bled his own blood and now stood inside a poor soul’s shack doubting every single thing that had happened this far. Even a man like himself had limits, however, and if he had simply stumbled upon a well-kept homestead of a peasant trying to live their life alone in the middle of the woods, he would leave just as quietly as he had entered. It was only fair, considering he, too, would do the same if given the chance. Perhaps his prey still wandered somewhere and he had gotten lost along the way, but it was time to go back to the road and hunt down the motherfucker who had almost made him piss his pants.

A couple more minutes and he would leave the forest, march up to Castle Dimitrescu and give Alcina a piece of his mind. Maybe he should climb up to the belfry, call everyone over and proudly display his limp dick as he twirled it around like a helicopter blade. Imagining the look of disgust in his sister’s face brought him some comfort.

“So this is the monster that lives in these woods, huh?” He asked the dog, half expecting an answer, with his back turned to make his way out.

“Oh, I am afraid that would be me,” said a woman’s voice somewhere behind him.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x oc #virgil writes #long post //#tw blood

3 notes · View notes