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#which is my only hope of actually getting some fucking forward momentum instead of just treading water until i die! yay!
storybook-souls · 3 years
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time for hannah complaining again <3
#i had SUCH a good trip and was so like. energized and optimistic and ready to Handle Shit#but then! had to go back to my old high school and our church and do a whole bunch of ~graduation~ stuff#and turns out when your best friend from high school died less than a year ago a thing like that can stir up some Emotions!#like. real 'last place i saw you alive' energies only spread out over an entire weekend#which like. i can handle that it's just kinda Painful but i ALSO was trying to do all this emotional care for my whole family#in all these fraught and messy and...i don't even know the words but just a whole slew of emotions going on#which again is like. it's FINE but it used up all those nice reserves i'd built up on my vacation#especially bc as much as i love my friends and had a good time there were things about the trip that were exhausting too#so i really just needed time to like. breathe deep and process#and then my FUCKING car breaks down! \#and i'm going to have to pay to fix it and don't even know how much it's going to cost and. i don't really HAVE a lot to spare!#and yeah it happened in like. the best POSSIBLE circumstances but i had to get my parents to completely bail me out which i HATE doing#but i had no other choice because i have no FUCKING support systems in this FUCKING city so i'm NEVER really gonna be independent#no one to give me a ride from the airport no one to check in on my cat no one i could call to help with a broken down car#and man that sure does stand out after you spend a week getting to be with people who genuinely love you!#but have no plans or reasonable way to make that happen for more than the fifteen days you get off per year!#and know that you're Bad at Making Friends and Forming Relationships in any sort of active way!#so! now i'm back to being exhausted and anxious and feeling jealous and lonely and inadequate and all the shit i've been dealing with!#and have to go back to work tomorrow and deal with my 800 emails! not to mention the six page to do list i wrote for myself!#which is my only hope of actually getting some fucking forward momentum instead of just treading water until i die! yay!
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5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;
+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.
Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:
1)
The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 
The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.
The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.
Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.
His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:
“Merlin! Behind you!”
All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.
The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.
Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.
The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 
The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.
The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:
“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”
He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:
“Merlin, are you alright?”
Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:
“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”
Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:
“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”
2)
Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.
Which was a sight in itself.
But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.
Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 
Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.
His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.
Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:
“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”
Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:
“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”
Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:
“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”
Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:
“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”
3)
The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.
The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 
They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.
Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.
Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:
“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”
Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:
“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”
Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:
“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”
Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:
“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”
With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.
Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.
Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:
“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”
No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.
Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:
“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”
Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.
Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:
“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”
With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.
When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.
4)
Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.
They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.
The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.
The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.
A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:
“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”
Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:
“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”
Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:
“Why not just... unlock the door?”
Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:
“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”
Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:
“How did you distract the guards?”
Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:
“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”
Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.
5)
It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.
Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 
In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.
It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.
That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.
It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:
“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”
Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:
“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”
Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:
“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”
Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.
They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.
Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:
“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”
Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.
Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:
“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”
Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.
He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.
+1)
The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.
They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.
The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.
Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.
Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.
Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:
“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”
Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:
“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”
Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:
“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”
Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:
“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”
Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.
Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:
“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”
The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:
“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”
Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:
“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”
Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:
“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”
Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:
“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”
Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”
Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:
“-You’re...-”
The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:
“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”
Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:
“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”
Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:
“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”
Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:
“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”
Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:
“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”
Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.
~
They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.
A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.
Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:
“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”
His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:
“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”
Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:
“How did you get me this far without horses?”
Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:
“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”
Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:
“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”
Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:
“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”
Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:
“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”
Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:
“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”
Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.
Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:
“That. Didn’t. Happen.”
Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:
“Whatever you say, Sire.”
Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.
Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.
The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.
The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.
Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:
“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”
Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:
“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”
Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:
“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”
He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:
“-I just need some sleep.”
Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:
“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”
In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 
He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:
“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”
Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:
“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”
Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:
“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”
Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:
“Whatever you say, Sire.”
Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.
~
THE END!!
We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D
I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!
Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)
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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years
Note
heyy do you think you can do a steve rogers x reader where the rest of the avengers try to matchmake them because everyone ships them (& everyone knows that they're both in love with each other besides themselves LMAO)? it would be EXTRA amazing if you could make it such that the reader is smaller/shorter than steve? personally really love the height difference in a relationship but if not it's fine too! thank you so much, have a great day ahead xoxo
Set Us Up
Warnings: 2455
Word Count: crude language, but mostly fluff
a/n: This took me a hot minute because I couldn't think of ways for everyone to try and set them up lol, but I think this is super cute! I hope you have a great day too!!
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"He totally has a thing for you! Nat, back me up." Wanda turned to the redhead.
You, Wanda, and Nat were supposed to be training. Instead, the two of them have been trying to convince you to make a move on Steve. As if that would ever happen.
"She's right." Nat replied calmly.
"Would you two stop gossiping and just train with me! Please!" You have never confirmed your crush on Steve, but that didn't mean your two best friends didn't know about it.
"Y/N, I'm serious. That man is crazy about you." Wanda tried again while Nat easily defended your attack.
"Wanda, he's my friend. That it." You refused to make eye contact, knowing she would she the longing in your eyes. Instead you kept advancing on Nat.
"Friends don't look at each other like that." Wanda smirked, knowing you'd fall into her trap.
"Like what?" You continued sparring with Nat.
"Like he wants to fuck you against any flat surface available." She stated matter-of-factly.
"Wanda!" You finally turned to her. Unfortunately, that was the point where Nat went on the offensive.
She easily tackled you to the ground, unable to stop her own momentum. She folded you like a pretzel, resulting in a very pitiful whine from you.
"Ow." You complained from the ground, not bothering with trying to get up.
"I know exactly what you need." Nat smirked devilishly. "Steve!" She called across the gym, only making you wince further.
"Steve! Can you do me a favor?" Nat asked the super soldier, knowing he was never one to turn down a friend in need.
"'Course, what do you need?" He made his way across the gym to where you were still sprawled out on the mats.
"Y/N just took a pretty bad beating. Can you help her stretch?" Her and Wanda wore matching smirks despite trying to hide them. "I'd do it, but I promised Wanda I'd help her with something, and we have to go now."
Steve barely had time to respond before the two women were making their way out of the gym.
"Hey, Y/N." He greeted you kindly, looming over your body which was still on the ground. "Are you okay?"
You huffed, glared at the door where your friends just abandoned you, and then smiled at Steve. "Yeah, Wanda just distracted me and you know what that means when you're sparring with Nat."
He grimaced slightly, imaging the beating you just experienced.
"I've definitely been there." He gestured for you to put your foot in his hand. "Here, give me your ankle."
You followed his instructions, lifting your left leg until he grabbed onto your ankle. He slowly pushed your leg forward, helping to stretch your hamstring.
You couldn't help but laugh at the way he had to bend over slightly to fully push on your leg.
"What's so funny?" He tickled your leg before gesturing for you to switch.
"Nothing. You're just really tall." You snickered again at his hunched over frame. Your foot didn't even reach his hips, meaning his back was arched at an odd angle to give him the correct leverage to help you stretch.
"Maybe you're just short. Ever think of that?" He raised a brow, dropping your right leg back to the floor. "C'mon, give me your hands."
You raised your arms up like a petulant child, knowing he would have to bend down to reach your hands.
He rolled his eyes at your childish behavior, but ultimately bent down to grasp your hands. He pulled you to your feet a bit too harshly causing your body to stumble into his.
Your head landed squarely against his chest, really showing off the height difference.
"See," he put a hand on top of your head. "You're just short."
You shoved him slightly, backing away from his warm body. "That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can go around saying it." You playfully glared at the much taller man.
"I'm sorry. Come with me, I'll make you a smoothie to make up for it."
Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep the grin off your face.
"Deal."
You just knew Nat and Wanda would be all smirks when you inevitably filled them in on this whole encounter.
-
"Who moved all the mugs?" You muttered to yourself. You spent the last five minutes standing on the tips of your toes trying to reach the mugs that, for some reason, had been move to the very top shelf.
Then you spent another five minutes looking for the step stool you kept in the kitchen.
You were about to resort to climbing on top of the counter when Steve walked into the kitchen.
You didn't even have to ask for his help before he was walking up behind you and reaching for a mug. His body briefly brushed against yours as he pulled the mug from the shelf, plopping it down on the counter in front of you.
"Thank you." You smiled at him, unsure if you could form any additional words.
"Anytime, short stuff." He smirked.
"Hey! It's not my fault someone felt the need to reorganize the cabinets." You whined. "Who does that?"
"I think it was Tony." He chuckled. "He said something about helping two idiots realized they're in love." He shrugged.
"That man is so weird." The two of you laughed, completely oblivious to Tony's plan.
-
"You ready to go, punk?" Steve could tell just by the look on Bucky's face that something was up.
"What did you do, jerk?" He eyed him suspiciously.
"Nothing!" He quickly looked down the hall, knowing you and Sam were supposed to emerge any second.
"Sam! You promised you would take me to Coney Island today!" You followed him down the hall, not realizing Bucky and Steve were already in the living room.
"I know, but I can't! I have to fix my wings." He glanced at Bucky conspiratorially. "Tin man, Tony said he needs you in the lab. Something about updating the tech in your arm."
Bucky looked back at Steve.
"Sorry, man. Gotta go." Bucky went to leave, but turned back before he made it out of the doorway. "Why don't you and Y/N go?"
"That's a great idea!" Sam added on. "You two go have fun."
The two of them ran from the room together before you could protest.
"Looks like it's just you and me." You smiled at Steve, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. "You coming?"
"Definitely." He smiled right back at you before leading you to the car.
The car ride took a while, but it felt like no time at all while talking to Steve.
"What's your favorite part?" He gestured to the park map as the two of you walked in.
"I've actually never been before. That's why I was so bummed when Sam said he was busy." You looked around the park entrance, taking in all the bright colors and happy people.
"I'll just have to show you all of my favorite parts then." He smiled at the look of wonder on your face, slowly reaching for your hand.
"I'd like that." You bit your lip nervously, butterflies swarming in your stomach when he took your hand.
He showed you around the entire park, starting with the rides. You went on every ride you could, only stopping when a fan asked for an autograph or a picture from one or both of you.
"Those are all the best rides." He smiled confidently.
"Really? No ferris wheel?" You pouted a bit. "I've always wanted to ride a ferris wheel."
"Don't worry, we will." He grabbed your hand again. "It's better to save that for the end of the night. Right now, it's time for games."
You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He genuinely looked to be having the best time in the world, and you honestly felt the same way.
"Lead the way."
The two of you made your way to the arcade, where Steve let every kid beat him.
His face lit up with joy watching them celebrate beating Captain America at various carnival games. When the game seemed unbeatable, he would win and let the kid choose a prize.
At the last game, he whispered with one kid as you looked on suspiciously. The little boy grinned, nodding his head in complete seriousness before turning back to the game.
When Steve won, the little kid smiled bigger than anyone else had all day. Steve walked back over to you with an enormous gray teddy bear.
"Your losing streak ends." You gestured to the bear.
"Yeah, well little Michael over there said I needed to win a prize for my pretty friend. He said he'd throw the game for me." He spoke with complete seriousness, causing you to giggle.
"That might be the cutest thing I've ever heard." Your face was the epitome of heart eyes as you looked between Steve and the bear. You pulled him into a massive hug before finally stepping back and trying to calm down.
"What's next?" You grabbed the bear, holding it tightly in one arm.
"Food!" Again, he held your hand as he lead you around the park.
He walked with you along the boardwalk, pointing out various spots to get different foods. Some had been there since he was a kid, others were clearly newer.
"This used to be my favorite." He smiled fondly looking at the Nathan's Famous sign.
"Well then, what are we waiting for?" You walked confidently up to the window only to realize you had no idea what to order. "Steve! What should I get?"
He laughed at the panic on your face. Without even realizing, he put his arm around your shoulder, drawing you closer to him. You went easily, leaning into his touch.
"Can we get two Coney dogs and a large order of fries?" He asked the attendant taking orders. "Do you want anything to drink?" He looked down at you as though this were an everyday occurance.
"A slushie!" Your eyes went wide, a giddy kind of excitement growing in you.
"And two cherry slushies, please." He fished out his wallet with his free hand, still holding you close.
You moved to get money as well, but Steve shook his head. "This one's on me, sweetheart."
You all but melted at the pet name, hiding your smile by burying your head between your bear and his chest.
You signed a few more autographs and posed for more pictures while you waited for your food. A little kid came up to the two of you just as your order was called.
"I'll get it." You gestured for him to talk to the child.
"Captain America!" The little girl smiled widely when Steve crouched down to talk to her. "Are you on a date?"
Steve's face reddened at the question, but it made him think. "You know what, I think I am." He shook his head when he finally realized that Bucky and Sam set the two of you up without either of you realizing it.
"My mommy's gonna be sad. She said you're really handsome." The little girl laughed.
"Well, she's right. He is really handsome." You whispered conspiratorially as you returned with the food.
The little girl laughed before running back to her mom.
"C'mon, we can go sit on that bench." Steve gestured to an empty bench overlooking the beach. The two of you joked and laughed while you ate, but Steve couldn't stop thinking about the little girl's question.
"It's beautiful." You looked out over the sand. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the water.
"Breathtaking." Steve agreed, his eyes focused on you rather than the view.
"It's later in the day. Does that mean it's time for the ferris wheel?" You smiled widely, a common occurrence for the day.
"Yep. The ferris wheel is the very last thing to do before leaving." He threw away the trash from your meal before taking your hand in his.
"Why's that?" You looked up at him curiously.
"It's slow enough for you to enjoy the ride, even after eating. Plus, you get the best view from the top when the sun is setting." The two of you stood in line as he explained his reasoning.
"I guess you really know all the best tricks." You smiled at him, hugging the bear to avoid any embarrassing actions.
"Not really. Just the old ones." He joked.
"Steve Rogers! Did you just joke about your age?" You gaped at him playfully.
"Hey! If I can't joke about your height, you can't joke about my age." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.
"I guess that's fair." You nudged him with your shoulder, but he remained solid as a rock.
The two of you sat next to each other in the cart, placing the stuffed bear across from you.
"You were right. This is an incredible end to a marvelous day." You looked out over the park, taking in the pink and orange hues from the sunset.
"Y/N... I think Sam and Bucky set us up." He looked at you nervously.
"Yeah, they did a great job of it too." You replied easily, having realized much earlier than Steve what was going on.
"You're not upset?" He questioned, a confused look on his face. You decided to respond with an unfamiliar amount of bravery.
"Steve, I had an incredible day. The only way I'd be upset is if you didn't kiss me at the end of it." You smiled shyly.
"What if I kissed you now, even though it's not technically the end?" His smile matched your own.
"That'd be okay too."
"You both leaned in, meeting in the middle for a soft and romantic first kiss. His lips moved against yours as if they were made for each other.
"Steve?" You pulled back for air.
"Yes?" He smiled blissfully, forehead still pressed against yours.
"I think we're the idiots in love with each other." You whispered softly, thinking back to what Tony had said.
"I think you might be right."
He smiled, pulling you to kiss you again.
"Steve?" You pulled back again, a bright smile on your face.
"Yes?" His eyes remained closed, just breathing in the moment.
"The ride is over..."
His eyes snapped open, a blush painting his cheeks when the ride attendant awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Sorry!" He jumped from the ride, grabbing the bear in one hand and you in the other.
"Where to now?" You questioned, laughing as he pulled you through the park.
"Home, so I can end this date right."
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javier-pena · 3 years
Text
interlude I
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Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Katie
Word Count: 4.5k (or a “drabble”)
Rating: Explicit (there’s s** in this)
Summary: You invite Katie over for dinner, but Javi is late.
Warnings: smoking | some language | f/f/(m) | fingering | voyeurism | light dirty talk | praise kink | bi panic | a tiny bit of plot if you squint
Notes: Okay so first, this is actually set after Part 2 of Triumvirate which I haven’t written yet, but today is also Dani @javierpcna​‘s birthday and I wanted her to wake up to a short drabble, so here we are. Dani, my beloved, happy birthday!! I hope this is a small surprise, it took everything in me not to give anything away, I wanted to text you about it multiple times a day, and I do hope I wasn’t too obvious in the things we discussed. I hope there aren’t any embarrassing typos in this, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me if there are.
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***
It’s just dinner, nothing more.
Javi is late. You‘re used to it, and you’ve learned to live with it. His job is demanding, unpredictable, capricious, he keeps irregular hours, and you know he hates to keep you waiting, but sometimes it is out of his hands. Only tonight … tonight you’ve got plans, and he’s not here.
Katie is.
She’s been here for more than half an hour. And still there is no sign of Javi. If Katie had been anyone else, you would have been embarrassed by your boyfriend’s tardiness. But Katie knows. She works in the same field, the same office; she knows what it’s like when something comes up, she knows you can’t always keep the promises you make. All you can do is wait for a little while longer and then start dinner without Javi.
But it’s a hot day, and you’re both on the couch in the living room, enjoying cold drinks and idle conversation. Katie tells you about one of the men at the embassy who always wants to get into Javi’s good books but who is too much of an asshole to be taken seriously. You laugh at Katie’s impression of him, the way she pinches her eyes and hunches her shoulders and lowers her voice. It’s only when you’re breathless with laughter that Katie lets herself fall back into the cushions of the couch with a happy sigh.
She looks so proud that she’s making you laugh, and your chest tightens at the sight.
“God, it’s hot,” she complains with a grunt, pulling her shirt away from her chest. “Would it be okay if I undid some of the buttons?”
“Of course,” you answer with a nod.
Katie smiles a silent thank you and unbuttons her shirt until you can see the top of her breasts. Your eyes immediately snap back up to her face, and you hope she hasn’t noticed where they were a second earlier. Still, you feel your heart pick up speed.
It’s just dinner, nothing more.
“It’s kind of cruel they make you wear all of this,” you say with a nod at Katie’s outfit. “Especially considering the weather.”
Katie smirks but it’s more of a grimace than a smile. “It’s all about keeping up appearances,” she explains, taking a sip from her drink.
You know how much Javi hates having to wear a suit, but he always says it’s part of the job, especially his job, his position. And you busy yourself trying to recall what he told you the last time you were talking about this because three small droplets are currently making their way down Katie’s neck and into her cleavage. You don’t think she’s noticed, but you also don’t want to draw any attention to it because you don’t want her to know you’ve been looking.  
“Javi says the same,” you tell her instead, a lame attempt to keep the conversation going.
It’s just dinner, nothing more.
Katie is right, it is hot, you feel it too, even though you’re wearing a light sundress. And it doesn’t help that the droplets are still making their steady way down, and it doesn’t help that you can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to lean forward and catch them on your tongue.
“Are you okay?” Katie asks you.
You realize you’ve been staring at her neck for too long, and it makes her look down, too. She wipes at the droplets before they reach their destination.
“Oh no, I think I’ve made a mess,” she says with a small, angry sigh.
“It’s fine,” you tell her quickly, trying to take the glass from her. You just brush your knuckles against it, spilling even more of the liquid.
Katie giggles breathlessly.
You can’t tell who starts it, but her lips are soft and hot against your own when you meet them, her tongue lazily grazing against yours. Your eyes are closed, all your senses are focused on her hot skin and wet kisses, and you feel too tired and wrung out from the heat to do much more than nip at her bottom lip. Katie sighs happily and brings up a hand to cup your cheek.
“Missed you,” she admits with a soft brush of her fingers against your skin.
You had no ulterior motive when you invited Katie. It was just supposed to be dinner – and nothing more. But she’s right here on the couch, right next to you, and you can feel the heat radiating off her body, setting your blood on fire until it moves through your veins like molten lava. And you realize there’s no such thing as just dinner with Katie because if her mere proximity to you is enough to make your stomach curl with desire then there’s no way you can pretend any longer.
You shift, so you can reach more of her, pressing kisses against the damp skin of her neck, feeling her pulse against your lips, and it makes you squirm. You bite the soft skin tentatively, eliciting a gasp from her, so you do it again, but she moves away from you only to pull you close again, crushing her lips against yours. You moan into her mouth, too desperate, too needy, but she likes it. Teeth clash, hot air comes out in soft gasps, your body’s heat mingles with hers, creating something like a cyclone, something that will gather its own momentum if you let it. Katie’s kisses are hungry, and so are yours; her encouraging moans are enough to make you grow damp with desire, damp like her skin, and you feel heat pool between your legs, a heat that has nothing to do with the one surrounding you.  
She must feel it, too, feel a steady, unrelenting pull, because her hand is first on your thigh, covered in the soft fabric of your summer dress, then it is on your skin, covered in the glistening sheen of summer heat, and then her finger finds your center, finds your clit, finds the rapidly growing damp spot on your panties. It’s not enough, if anything, it makes things worse, like an itch that you scratch only once so it burns even more intensely. And Katie doesn’t even scratch the itch, she just touches is, probes it with innocent curiosity, while you moan loudly at her touch and feel your eyes close out of their own free will. All you can focus on is Katie’s slim finger pressed against you.
And her breath – her hot, urgent breath on the shell of your ear as she whispers, “Oh, so you do want this …”
You don’t even have time to tell her how much, how much you’ve been thinking about it, thinking about her, how you’re not yet ready to examine these feelings and what they mean for you, how you don’t know when and if and how you should talk to Javi about it, but all of this doesn’t matter when Katie pushes the thin fabric of your panties aside.
It doesn’t matter when Katie’s finger finds your clit.
You whimper and push yourself into her touch. You want to tell her how much you’ve missed her soft, sweet, chaste attention on you, but you’re so overwhelmed that all you can do is find her thigh and dig your nails into the fabric of her trousers. You feel yourself clench in time with the circular movements of Katie’s finger, you feel yourself burn with want, and when you open your eyes, you feel the air being knocked from your lungs. Katie’s eyes are on your face, she’s watching you intently, her gaze roaming over your slightly parted mouth, your burning cheeks, your tense neck. It’s like she’s waiting for some sort of confirmation, for you to tell her everything is okay, and you know that once you give her that, you won’t be able to come back from it. The thing is – you don’t want to come back from it.
You swallow hard. “More, please,” you whimper.
Katie’s eyes shine with something akin to relief as a soft puff of air tickles your cheek. You think about kissing her, about feeling her lips glide against your own, about her tongue mirroring her finger’s movements, before she shifts, leans back, and you freeze in panic. Did you make a mistake? Did she make one? Does she maybe not want this at all? But then her hand claws at your panties as she tears them off of you and pushes a finger into you, and every doubtful thought is forgotten. You clench around her immediately and by the way she bites her lip you know she can feel your desperation.
Everything comes to a stop for a few short seconds, even the cars and people and noises outside seem to be silenced, and it’s just the two of you, it’s just her inside of you and the air between you that you both share. You lean forward and kiss her chin, kiss her cheek, kiss her jaw, and then she captures your lips between hers. You expect it to be soft, but it’s not, she pushes against you urgently, and suddenly, as all the noises come back, you realize it’s not just you – she feels the same way.
Insecure.
Curious.
Turned on.
Katie pushes a second finger into you, and fucks you slowly, lazily, without urgency. And still, it sets you on fire. It makes you burn like she’s a flame and you’re too close to her, you feel like nothing can quench the desire burning your limbs, your throat, in the pit of your stomach. Her slow strokes only stoke it, they don’t bring the relief you thought they would. You feel hot and slick and sticky, you feel trapped in your dress, trapped between Katie’s fingers and her lips and her body and the couch at your back, and the only way to move on is to go forward, so you push yourself onto Katie’s fingers with a roll of your hips. You hear her sigh softly, so you repeat the motion, repeat it a third time, a fourth, a fifth, until she isn’t fucking you so much anymore as you’re fucking yourself on her fingers. You close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of pure bliss this gives you, relaxing around her, trusting her to take care of you. Katie lets you for a while, she lets you take over until you feel like you’re in charge of the situation before she brushes her thumb against your clit, and you almost come.
Your eyes fly open to tell her that, to warn her to … ask her for permission? … you’re not sure yourself. Katie is looking at you in concentration, her cheeks red, her teeth digging into her bottom lip that is even redder, her eyelids low with hazy want. She looks so beautiful, and you feel a surge of pride at the thought that you are the one doing this to her. But then you see something behind her … and you freeze.
It’s Javi.
He is watching you with an expression that is utterly unreadable, and you only know he isn’t frozen because he is clenching and unclenching his right hand in rapid movements. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know what to say, all you can think about is what he might be thinking, but you can’t read his expression. Why can’t you read it? You grip Katie’s wrist and try to push yourself into a sitting position. Katie stills her hand and follows your gaze over her own shoulder. As soon as her eyes land on Javi, he steps towards you.
“Stop that,” he growls.
That’s all the evidence you need. You can tell you’ve fucked up by the way his eyelids lower, by the weight he puts into each step as he walks towards you, by the slight tremor in his voice. The intense pleasure you’ve been feeling this past quarter of an hour is replaced by intense panic, one you can taste on your tongue – metallic, sharp, bitter. All you can think about is to explain to him that you don’t know what you’re doing, that you will make sure you won’t see Katie ever again, that this doesn’t mean anything.
Liar, whispers a voice in your head. You fucking liar.
But Katie isn’t moving, her fingers are still inside of you as she watches Javi walk toward you. You squirm and try to push yourself off her – how does she not see the look in his eyes? How does he not want to run and hide?
“Stop that,” Javi repeats, and it sounds softer now, more exasperated.
You want to tell him that you’re trying, but before you can say anything, before just one weak sound leaves your lips, Katie uses her free hand to push you down into the couch again with so much determination that the air is punched from your lungs. She’s so much stronger than she looks, and if you didn’t feel like your entire world was falling apart, her strong grip on your hip would turn you on.
“What -?” you gasp.
Neither of them is offering you an answer. Katie’s eyes are on Javi and Javi’s eyes are on the floor, the coffee table, the wall … anywhere but on you. He lets himself fall into his old leather chair opposite the couch, not even taking off his worn leather jacket, and pulls out a packet of cigarettes. He proceeds to light one as if he has all the time in the world, as if he was the only person in the room, coming home from an exhausting day at work, trying to unwind, as if there weren’t two women opposite him, his girlfriend and his colleague, one buried knuckles-deep in the other.
He leans back, the cigarette between his lips, and you forget how to breathe. It’s just him now, his intense, hard gaze on you, and you know you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. He pins you down like a fragile butterfly, and all you can do is take it. Katie also doesn’t move, she waits for Javi as a quiet tension settles around you. Javi takes a slow drag on his cigarette and regards you to with deep, dark calmness before he finally speaks.
“Go on then,” he says with a small nod, “make her come.”
You whimper pitifully, all the tension you’ve been holding in your muscles leaving your body as you flood Katie’s fingers with your arousal, as you clench around her tightly.
Katie smirks at Javi. “You know, I think she’d really like that,” she tells him.
Of course you would, there is nothing you want more right at this very moment, but it’s all so much. Katie picks up the pace again, and all you can do is sink back onto the couch and take it, as Javi watches the two of you casually, smoking his cigarette as if he’s standing on the sidewalk waiting for a taxi, as if he’s on his lunch break trying to delay the moment he has to go back upstairs to his desk. Katie’s eyes are on you but her gaze flickers over to Javi once in a while as if she’s looking for validation and praise from him. When she’s looking at you, you feel your throat close up, you feel like you can’t breathe, but when she’s looking at Javi, you’d do anything to pull her attention back towards you.
And Javi? Javi is looking at you, mostly, right at you, and his gaze never flickers, not for one second. You can’t remember the last time you were this wet, this desperate. Katie’s fingers are stroking you, are gliding in an out of you with ease, while Javi watches every movement with interest, while he watches to see what someone else is doing to you, while he studies your heaving chest, your trembling thighs, your hands balled into fists.
Then his eyes flicker down, and he watches Katie’s fingers, watches them disappear and reappear, her slim fingers, coated in your slick. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know exactly what he is thinking about. It makes your breath hitch, makes you grab Katie’s arm and hold on tight. Katie presses a quick kiss to your damp forehead, but Javi interrupts her.
“Slower,” he says, lighting another cigarette, “make her want it.”
Katie immediately follows his orders, slowing down, and for some reason, it feels much more intense now. You throw back your head, a throaty moan leaving your lips, as you feel Katie curl her fingers, as you feel her hit that one spot inside of you, the one Javi always finds with so much ease. She’s set on doing this right – she’s set on pleasuring you as much as she’s set on pleasing Javi. And it is too much, it already was too much when it was just Katie and you, but Javi watching you is the final straw. You’re so wound up you’re not even sure you’ll be able to come, no matter how well Katie is doing, no matter how much she’s trying to get this right. Your limbs are shaking, your fingers are tingling, your breath comes in short, shallow gasps, as you squeeze your eyes shut, completely overwhelmed by this situation you suddenly find yourself in.
Then you feel Katie hovering right next to you and you open your eyes again – everything else is blocked from your view by her long, wavy, brown hair. Her lips are next to your ear, you can feel her hot breath ghosting your even hotter skin. “Shhhh,” she whispers soothingly, and the air leaving her lips tickles you, drawing a high giggle from you.
From the other side of the coffee table, you hear Javi say, “Let her take care of you”.
With a small whimper, you let your head fall back until you’re flush against the backrest of the couch. The soft look in Katie’s eyes makes you want to give her anything she wants, anything at all, as long as she does what Javi is telling her to do.
“Please,” you breathe.
Katie doesn’t give any sign that she’s heard you, and then the penny drops: She only does what Javi is telling her to do. This might not be about just you and her, this might also be about her and him. You don’t quite know yet how to pigeonhole this information. But there’s something there, something you struggle to place, and everything becomes even more clouded when you look over at Javi and see the cigarette hang limply between his slightly parted lips.
You wish you could but a finger on it, bit all you know right now is that what Katie is doing isn’t enough, it only adds to the tightness between your legs without brining you the relief it should. And the only person who could give you that relief, not with actions but with words, is Javi.
So you turn your attention to him. “Javi, please.”
Javi shakes his head like waking up from a trance and puts out his second cigarette. He locks eyes with you, and there’s a strain in his voice when he answers your plea. “I don’t think I’m the one you should be asking.”
You swallow hard and look back at Katie, whose bottom lip is caught between her teeth as she waits for you to make the next move.
“Katie, please, I –”
But you don’t know how to end that sentence, you don’t know what you want from her anymore, all you know is that you want her to fuck you while Javi watches, and that realization hits you so unexpectedly that you cannot put it into words, even though you know it’s exactly what they both want to hear from you. Instead, you stop being passive, you stop just taking whatever Katie gives you, and you start to roll your hips again.
Katie lets out a surprised sound, something between a sigh and a moan with an edge of breathlessness to it. She flings back her hair with a snap of her neck and glances at Javi. “Is she always this inarticulate?” she asks him in an attempt to regain some control.
Javi has the audacity to chuckle, like this is just a game to him, but his voice is deep and raspy when he says, “Only when she’s desperate for it.”
It’s the way they talk about you like you’re not even there, like all their attention isn’t focused on you that makes you tighten around Katie’s fingers, that makes you pull her in even deeper.
“She’s so wet …,” Katie observes, her eyes shiny with lust, looking down at where she’s buried deep inside of you, “and tight.” And she scissors her fingers as she pulls them out slowly.
You fold in on yourself, mewling in desperation. Katie does it again and you tremble around her, holding onto whatever surface your hands can reach, a pillow, the couch, Katie’s arms, her legs. She makes you feel so good, and she gives you so much – her free hand softly strokes your hot skin, making it flare up even more, her lips find your exposed neck to leave hungry kisses, her mouth whispers to you, things you usually only hear in the darkness of the bedroom, and not in broad daylight with two sets of eyes on you.
And Javi isn’t just watching, he’s observing, his elbows on his knees, his hands folded tightly, and you want to know what he’s seeing, what he’s learning about you. Yes, he is enjoying himself, you can tell from the flush creeping up his neck, from the fact that he still hasn’t taken off his jacket, too transfixed by what he’s seeing, but there is more to it, maybe more than he’s willing to admit himself.
But he is excellent at hiding his feelings, at hiding the conclusion he comes to, at hiding his needs when there is a task to focus on, a puzzle to solve.
“Well,” he says, his eyes roaming across your upper body still covered by your dress, roaming across your naked legs, across Katie’s hand, across your slick coating her fingers, “seems to me like you’re doing a good job.”
Katie draws in a sharp breath and then draws you in for a deep kiss, and you can taste the pride on her lips and tongue, can feel the effect that praise has on her in the way she bites your lip, the way she moans against you, the way she curls her fingers just so.
“Please,” you whimper when she releases you, and your eyes snap back to Javi.
Katie’s hand comes up, her fingers closing around your chin, and she forces you to look back at her. “You heard him.” It’s almost a snarl, her voice raspy and gruff, her face a stern mask. “Ask me.”
And you do, you do it with so much conviction that her eyes grow wide. You do it because just as you know she wants to impress Javi, you want to impress her, you want to hear her praise you, flatter you, worship you.
“Please, I need to come,” you ramble as fast as your tongue can carry the words. “Please, please, let me come.”
Katie swallows hard, then pushes her chin out. “No.”
You feel tears of frustration prick at the corner of your eyes, and you do it again, you look at Javi, but before you can focus on him, Katie’s voice draws you back. “I told you to look at me.”
“Katie.” It’s barely a whisper, your voice strained from the effort of not making a complete fool of yourself by howling her name into the world. “Baby, please,” you go on, relishing how her cheeks are turning red at that. “Please let me come on your fingers.”
Without any warning, she pushes a third finger into you, and your voice turns from a whisper into a scream, one that is loud enough to echo to the end of the block. You push yourself off the couch and down onto Katie’s fingers, riding her, your hips rolling with a desperation that tastes like smoke and iron on your tongue.
“Doesn’t she make the prettiest sounds when she’s full?” Javi asks from somewhere far away.
Katie nods, and if she replies anything you don’t hear it because she chooses this moment to brush her thumb against your clit … just once. You fall back onto the couch, your legs spreading as wide as possible, one slung over Katie’s lap, the other trembling from the strain.
“Shit,” you whisper, over and over, as Katie does it again and again. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“You like this, don’t you?” she asks you. “You like being on display for him like this.”
This time, you don’t look at Javi, even though the answer is yes. You love this, you love the feeling of having his full attention but being unable to participate, you love how he’s studying you, and you love that he is giving this to you, that he lets you have this, even though you don’t yet know what consequences it will bring and what it will mean for you. All you know is that you need this.
“I like you fucking me like this,” you answer.
Katie’s eyelids flutter and you feel a sharp exhale against your cheek. “You hear that, Javier?” she asks, but snarl in her voice is gone.
You don’t let him answer, this doesn’t concern him anymore, it’s between you and her now. You push down on her fingers again, roll your hips until the friction of her thumb against your clit makes you sigh in relief.
“Come on, Katie, fuck me,” you challenge her. “Show him what you can do.”
And she finally does. You feel her tremble inside of you and then she holds your hip, like she’s seen him hold it, and she pushes her fingers in deep, so deep she hits something within you that makes you lose all control. You come on her fingers, flood her hand and the couch, hear Javi’s hoarse gasp, and you can tell this is only the beginning, you know that he let you have this, but he expects something in return, and while you’re still coming, while you still hold Katie’s fingers inside of you in a chokehold, you already feel arousal unfurl in the pit of your stomach again, sharper, deeper, more urgent.
And you ask yourself what it would be like if your positions were reversed – what it would be like to watch Javi and Katie –
Katie stills her fingers, and before you can ask for anything, before she even has time to pull them out, Javi’s voice cuts through your pants, through Katie’s shallow moans, and it makes you both look at him, it makes Katie shiver and it makes your walls flutter and your eyes close with an indescribably deep desire.
“Do it again.”
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Loki and reader decide to have a duel and everyone at the compound talks about it and gets so hyped for it that it’s almost as if they are waiting for infinity war to come out. Loki and reader also get super serious about it and they train for weeks and everything. If u can, include both the time coming up to the duel and the duel itself and the aftermath.
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W/C: 1219
Rating: G
TW: none
A/N: I spent so long staring at this prompt every time I opened my inbox, trying to figure out how best to write it, and I really hope that it lives up to your expectations. Enjoy~
“You almost had me, that time.”
“You cheated with your clone, that’s not fair!”
“It isn’t cheating if it’s literally something I can do with my magic.”
You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest as Loki grinned smugly. You’d spent the last two hours sparring with them, and while the both of you were pretty evenly matched when it came to the extent of your powers, they had ultimately won your last match. And you were nothing if not a sore loser.
“Why don’t you have a duel? You know, settle once and for all which one of you is the best,” Wanda offered innocently from where she stood in her own corner of the training room.
“Yeah, that could be fun. Give us all a show. Something to look forward to.” Natasha shrugged a bit as she reloaded the handgun she was using to shoot at a dummy across the room.
You fell silent for a long moment, considering the idea. It could be fun. And you couldn’t lie, it would be nice to rub Loki’s face in your victory, if you managed to win.
As you looked back over at Loki, you saw a smirk similar to the one you could feel spreading across your own face.
“What do you say, Y/N? A little duel. Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of all time.”
“When?”
“Shall we say… a month from now? Give us both some time to prepare?”
You grinned and nodded, sticking your hand out to shake on it. “Deal.”
Loki shook your hand once firmly, still smirking far too smugly for your liking. “Then may the best sorcerer win.”
~~~~~
Over the course of the next month, you spent almost every single day training whenever you could. Your powers were strong, and you’d been at the Compound long enough that you’d had time to really hone them, and take them to even higher levels than you already had. But in your eyes, there was no such thing as too much training, so you were in a training room as often as your schedule allowed it.
You’d caught Loki watching you several times, and while it didn’t bother you at all to be watched while you trained, you knew Loki well enough to not be at least a little suspicious of them trying to spy on you to see how you would fight during the duel.
“You know I can see you, right?” You didn’t even look away from the spell you were doing to send several dummies crashing into the wall.
“Oh, I counted on it. Am I making you nervous?” You could practically hear the playful snarkiness dripping from their voice.
“No, but you’re making me annoyed. I don’t spy on you training,” you pointed out, using another spell to enchant a staff to swing at the wave of automated dummies you’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to program for you.
“We could just call the duel off, if you’re that worried.”
You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, and listen to you brag about it for as long as we know each other? Fat chance. We’re having the duel.”
“Fine, fine.” You heard Loki take a few steps, and then stop.  “Your posture could use some training, too.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
~~~~~
It seemed you and Loki were not the only ones preparing for the duel. It was a hot topic of debate among everyone else in the compound, and they were all placing their bets on which one of you was going to win. It was rather amusing, to hear them speculate and plan who was going to win, and it was interesting to hear their reasoning.
“Loki’s been alive for, what, a thousand years? Clearly more time to practice and do better.”
“Yeah, but Y/N’s training is fresh. No room to be rusty when you’ve only been training for a couple of years.”
“I think they’ll be evenly matched. They always have been, you’ve watched them train, Nat.”
The conversation went on for the weeks leading up to the duel, and when it finally came down to it, everyone was ready to finally watch it go down, complete with popcorn and snacks in hand.
Always happy to entertain, you and Loki made a show of shaking hands before separating to go to opposite sides of the training room that had been cleared out for the duel.
“Ready when you are, Y/N.”
You grinned, and immediately waved a hand to summon a wall of magic and the duel began.
For the better part of a half hour, you sparred. Every attack you sent Loki’s way was deflected, and every spell that Loki cast, you waved away without so much as breaking a sweat.
You were almost ready to settle on a stalemate, and then Loki, just as you expected, tried to turn the tables by switching to using two daggers instead of magic.
Lucky for you, you’d been prepared for this, and whipped out your own set, the gesture met by applause and whoops from everyone watching.
Hand to hand combat was something you’d been working on much more recently, as it was a completely different skill set from your own powers, and so you didn’t have the luxury of just knowing what to do with them or how to use them.
Whatever you’d learned appeared to be working, though, as Loki seemed genuinely impressed by your skills.
“You didn’t tell me you were good with knives, too, Y/N. I’m disappointed in you.”
You rolled your eyes as you blocked one of their swipes. “What, and spoil the fun?” You made another jab, and Loki only just managed to move out of the way, and you grinned as you went to back to your playful banter. “What’s the matter? The God of Mischief doesn’t like tricks?”
“Oh, you don’t want to start with that.” Loki smirked, taking a step back from you only to step forward again, bringing both knives down toward you.
Seeing your escape, you ducked out of the way and, using Loki’s momentum, and taking the chance to play just a little bit dirty, you swept their feet out from under them, effectively knocking them over, and by the time they managed to turn around and face you, you had both daggers pointed at their throat, smug smile on your face.
“Checkmate.”
Loki seemed truly stunned for a long moment, and then nodded, accepting their defeat. “A little dirty, but a win’s a win.”
You smiled, and held a hand out so they could pull themselves up as everyone swarmed around you, congratulating you and excitedly talking about how proud they were of you and how surprised they were that you’d actually won against them.
You couldn’t lie, it felt nice to have everyone singing your praises, but mostly you were just proud of yourself, and glad that the both of you had had fun while doing it. Slinging an arm around Loki’s shoulder, you smiled, and waved a hand dismissively.
“I haven’t even told you all the best part of all this.” You glanced at Loki with a sly grin. “Celebratory drinks are on Loki tonight.”
“Hey, that was never a part of the deal! Y/N, get back here!”
But you’d already bolted halfway across the room, laughing all the while.
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One Night Standards - The Bad Ride (Part 1)
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One Night Standards - The Bad Ride Pairing: Jack Daniels (Whiskey) x Fem!Reader/OFC (Jo)
Summary: Whiskey is a man on the run. But before it all catches up, he's got a list of names and one rule: Never stay anywhere longer than one night. Too bad for both of you that rules were made to be broken.
Content: Rodeos, Some Smut, Angst, Arguments, Dive Bars, Whiskey is his own Warning
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 4.3K
A/N: Here we go again. Listen, it was only a matter of time before my cowgirl heart gave in.
Masterlist
Ready.
You were ready for the signal, ready for that sharp reverberating sound, ready for what would happen next.
You were tense yet calm as you waited, hands at home in their solid grip, reins and dark mane intertwining through fingers. Your legs were already braced for the frantic pace, heels down in your stirrups. You shifted forward in the saddle, leaning into momentum that hadn’t yet rushed over you.
Your horse danced beneath you, all anticipation and excitement, ready to shoot forward like a bullet out of a gun. Eleven-hundred pounds of strength and instinct submitting to your control. An intoxicating and powerful understanding that could pull you under quickly if you let it go to your head.
How many times had you done this? Hundreds? Thousands? Yet the attraction remained, humming through your bones and soul. This was one of your favorite parts. The buildup, the edge, the quiet before the roar.
Not that your surroundings could ever be considered silent. If you let yourself, you knew you’d be able to hear the claps and calls of the crowd, the stomping of boots on bleachers, the energy of a packed arena on a cool summer night in Texas. The noise threatened to overwhelm your senses, tangling up with the smells of sweat and leather, dirt and hay.
You didn’t let yourself hear it. You just waited for the bell. You just wait. Why does it feel like you’re always waiting?
“Next up,” the announcer’s voice blared through worn speakers, tinny and grating even as it soothed. The moment was arriving. “Rider number 76 Jo Montgomery on Runaway Luck.”
You hoped the name held true.
The bell screamed. The world shrank. And you went flying.
As you broke from the shoot, you wondered not for the first time if it was possible to live in this moment, to stay forever in a 20-second rush where you actually felt alive. But your mind was just as quickly cleared as everything you had zeroed to a series of movements you had to execute with precision.
The thunder of hooves matched your heartbeat as you counted. One stride, two strides, three strides, four strides, five strides, turn, press, lean, counterbalance, kick, kick, kick, run, lead change. The first barrel had come up quickly and you were already onto the second, your right hand guiding with the reins as your left gripped the pommel of your saddle to steady yourself.
As you rotated through the turn, the movement brought you dangerously close to the metal barrel. If you came close enough to tip one, you would be penalized, and it would cost you in more ways than one. It would also hurt like a son of a bitch.
You raced into the last straightaway, the dust of the arena leaving a cloud in your wake. It was deceptive how soft the landing looked beneath you, the small hills and valleys of dirt almost seemed as if they might rise up to catch and cradle you if you fell. But you’d seen enough riders crash and break against those waves to know it was a lie. Had fallen enough yourself to know the unforgiving collision is one you’d rather evade.
Two barrels done and only one remained. The rhythm and pattern were ones you knew without question. Every motion was dependable...until it wasn’t.
You felt the interruption as soon as it happened. There was a falter and jerk that shouldn’t have been there, and you knew, your luck was about to run out again.
You tried to draw up and pull back just enough, just enough that the correction didn’t make things worse. Didn’t send you into a tailspin instead of a skid. But just enough wasn’t enough.
Hooves that should have gripped and clattered against solid ground gave way and ran instead on air. A lean turned into a fall, and you tried to relax as your survival instincts yelled. You needed to soften your body since you couldn’t soften the ground.
You heard the crowd for the first time when you hit. Their cries of surprise and alarm echoed in your mind as you quickly rolled free of the danger. You weren’t down for long. You were up again before the dust settled, moving back towards your horse with careful and slow movements, hands open and visible, words soothing.
He was up, too. Horses never stayed down longer than they could help it. Millions of years of prey instinct compelled them back on their feet even when the pain should’ve told them to stay down.
You could see the fear in his dark eyes as he tossed his head and shifted, black mane standing up against the dark brown color of his hide.
“It’s alright, buddy. You’re alright.” You hoped your words were true. You didn’t like the way he was favoring his front leg. You came closer before planting your feet in front of him, reached out a hand with your palm facing him in invitation, and waited.
You let out a relieved sigh when his nose nudged your palm, stepped forward again now that he had given you permission. Once you had the reins secured, you brought your hand up the white blaze on his forehead to scratch at his ears.
“Good boy. I’m going to take a look at your leg, okay?”
Your voice was all honey and reassurance, the tone you always use when you talked to animals in distress. Your grandpa always said hearing it was their first dose of medicine.
The horse stood quietly, but you noticed the small tremor that passed beneath his skin when you ran your hands over the muscles, joints, and bones of his leg, assessing. It didn’t seem broken. You looked around for the vet on hand and saw him approaching.
“You okay, miss? That looked like a bad fall.”
You did a quick inventory. You were certain you’d be sore in the morning but no permanent damage had been done. “Fine, not sure about my guy here though.”
The vet nodded, and he crouched down next to you. He was small and wiry with white hair that indicated just how long he’d been at this. You stood up and crossed your arms as he examined your horse. You could’ve kicked yourself for agreeing to ride. You’d known better, but the alternative would’ve been to watch someone else ride and increase the likelihood of disaster.
“Feels like a sprain,” the vet said at last as he stood. “Let’s walk him off, and we can get some compresses and some wraps.”
You nodded and moved close to your horse, giving him your body to lean on as you slowly exited the arena to a round of applause. The crowd was relieved to see you both escaping unscathed. Little did they know…
You scanned the crowd for the owner. Wondered if he managed to even make it to the arena or just watched the feed from the trailer. You didn’t see him, but there was someone else focused on you with more than just passing interest in your fall.
A cowboy. Tall and imposing, leaning against the rail of the stands, wearing a black hat and jacket, a white tee, and dark-wash jeans that left little to the imagination. Dark eyes set in an angular face met yours and a shot of something electric passed through you.
“Which one?”
The vet recaptured your attention with his question and a touch of your shoulder. You pulled your gaze back to him. “Sorry?”
“Which stall are you in, miss?”
“35. Green Barn.”
He nodded, making note of it in his mind. “Let me go get a couple things, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Thanks.”
By the time you looked back to the stands, the cowboy was gone.
“What the fuck was that?”
The owner finally made his appearance as you were untacking back at the stall. He was redder than you’d ever seen him, his brown hair and mustache askew as if he had been pulling at both. The expression “hopping mad” came to mind.
Good, that makes two of us.
“What do you think it was, Harry?” You slipped your saddle off, blanket and all, and carried it to the stand outside the stall. You preferred to have your hands free if you were going to have this conversation, and you didn’t particularly want to be standing next to an already stressed horse if screaming was about to start.
You turned on him once you were free of your tack, placed hands on hips. “Luck lost his footing and fell. I told you that he wasn’t ready. He needed more time to heal.”
“Not ready?” He stepped forward into your space, but you didn’t back down. He was breathing hard, probably winded from having to get off his ass to come yell at you. You could smell the liquor on his breath. “Then the fuck am I paying you for?”
“You’re paying me to train your horse, to ride, and to try to undo the damage that you and that last hack job did. I can’t do that if you don’t listen to me. Next time—”
“Oh no,” he shook his head vehemently. “There will be no next time. You’re fired.”
Damn it.
“Fine,” you bit out, “you can fire me, but you need to hear me about Luck. If you keep pushing him like this, he’s going to end up lame.”
“Do you have any idea what that horse cost me? What he cost me today?”
“Harry,” you hissed, “I couldn't give a fuck if you lost your drinking money gambling on an injured horse.”
“You bitch.”
You were up in his face in an instant. “Call me, bitch, one more time. I fucking dare you.”
He looked for a second like he was considering it, but a small crowd had started to gather. “Get your shit and get out. You’re done.” He turned his back on you and walked away as you seethed.
A groom lingered just a little too long after the excitement, and you snapped at him before he scurried away.
Fuck.
You’d been counting on this job to at least carry you through the season. Your focus swung back to Luck, and hot tears started to prick at the back of your eyes as you drug yourself back into the stall to brush him down one last time. Harry certainly wouldn’t and at least it would give you a chance to say goodbye.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I wish we had more time. I wish I didn’t have to leave you with that asshole. I wish…”
So many things, but it never seems to make a difference.
You let yourself get lost in the circular motions of comb and whisk of brush as you moved over him. “I’m sorry.”
****
“Fuck.”
Jack Daniels pinched his nose between his fingers and let out a frustrated sigh. The drag of his whiskers against his hand as it drifted down his face reminded him that he needed to shave. At this point, he had about a week’s worth of stubble that now could be classified as scruffy beard.
“What can I get you?”
Jack didn’t even glance up from his notebook as he murmured “whiskey” to the waiting bartender. He studied the last several pages, tried to determine where his intel had gone wrong.
Waste of time. Another fucking waste of time.
How much had he lost getting here and with nothing to show for it? How long could he keep this up?
The bartender set a tumbler of cheap whiskey on the bar in front of him, and Jack tossed it back before the liquid even had time to settle after its journey from the bottle. Certainly not his brand of choice, but he hadn’t planned to sip and savor it. He was just looking to take the edge off.
The door opened, and on reflex, Jack looked up to assess the new arrival. He hadn’t expected anything too exciting. He’d made sure of that. Plus, the bar was a dive, barely lit, floors sticky, the smell of stale beer and smoke permeating every surface. Its biggest selling point was that it was far off the beaten path, yet close enough to his motel that he’d been willing to risk the outing.
The barely swallowed whiskey caught in his throat and made him cough when he sucked in a breath at the sight of you. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
You already know you are, Jack.
He thought he might take the sentence gladly though if you were going to be the one to deliver it.
He knew for certain that it was you. Long, loose black hair that a man would love to lose his fingers in, dark soul-scorching eyes, a mouth made for sin that you’d been kind—or cruel—enough to paint red, and a lithe figure that moved with an air of reckless confidence.
You had changed out of the black chaps, shirt, and hat you’d worn for your ride today, understandable given the getup was more suitable for a show than a bar. As alluring as that look had been, however, the one you were in now might have been more so. Your black jeans were practically painted on and paired with a dark green low-cut tank top that gave a glimpse of your lower abdomen where your denim jacket didn’t cover.
He’d been captivated the minute you’d galloped into the arena, drawn in by your looks but held by the expression of pure exhilaration and joy on your face as you flew. He’d felt himself being pulled to the edge of his seat as he’d watched, had been on his feet and at the railing before he even realized he’d moved when you fell. He’d laughed when you’d popped back up after recovering from your controlled roll, watched with fascination as you had moved to soothe your injured horse. He had doubted you even knew if you were hurt yourself yet.
He knew very well what it was to have that kind of singular focus on the job at hand, to be able to brush everything else aside because that’s what needed to be done. He knew how he had learned it, wondered how you had.
Then you’d looked his way as you’d been about to leave the arena and he’d felt…a charge? A spark? He wasn’t sure what to call it. You had been pulled away and he had needed to move before he could linger long enough to figure it out.
But here you were again.
He watched you, cloaking himself in the dark atmosphere of the bar and the downward tilt of his hat. You were clearly upset as you sank into the booth and buried your face in your hands. When a waitress appeared at your table, you looked up only long enough to order a drink.
Jack wondered if maybe he could make you smile. It was a sight he knew he’d love to see again, and maybe, just maybe…
God, he was so tired, exhausted from the winding, sleepless path he’d taken to get here. He hadn’t found what he was looking for, but maybe…maybe, it didn’t have to be a total loss? He’d bought himself some time…he could use it on a distraction. Just this once.
The waitress came back to the bar. “Can I get a shot of tequila for the new table?”
“Hey, uh, why don’t you put that on my tab?” Jack offered, and the waitress smirked at him.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree with that one, cowboy,” she warned, tossing her blonde hair and giving him a look that invited him to reconsider.
“Appreciate the warning, but why don’t you let me worry about that?” He countered, still not wanting to take his eyes off you.
“Suit yourself,” she purred back at him and slid the shot his way when it arrived. “Go ahead. You can deliver it to her yourself.”
“Thank you.” Jack grabbed the glass and crossed to the other side of the small room, very aware of the eyes on his back.
After he set it down in front of you, he nudged it your way before he cleared his throat. After 10 months on the run, he was out of practice really talking to anyone, let alone a woman he was attracted to. When you didn’t look his way, he tried again, “Miss?”
Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice, and your eyes registered your surprise. “Well,” your voice was smooth and rich, “didn’t expect to see you again.”
Jack grinned at the implication that you remembered him, too, that those few seconds in the arena had made some sort of impression on you as well as him.
“Likewise,” he replied. “Can I join you?”
You considered him, and Jack felt himself pull up straighter as he folded his arms across his chest. He regretted that he hadn’t shaved, that he didn’t have on one of the sharp suits he once wore, but perhaps he could make up for that in other ways. He still had some tricks after all.
“See something you like, darlin’?”
You snorted, not the reaction he’d been hoping for, and he was afraid that he’d blown his shot with a cheesy line. Just another part of his old persona that appeared better left behind.
“I’m not a darlin’, and I’m still deciding,” you shot back, but you gestured at the booth across from you. Jack sat, leaned back, and tried to project a casual comfort he didn’t feel. “So…” You shot your tequila without flinching. “What brings you here?”
Jack smirked. “That’s a long tale, but suffice it to say that tonight, I was just looking for a strong drink.”
“Same.” You brought the wedge of lime to your mouth, wrapped your lips around it, and sucked. Jack shifted, trying to control his growing hard on. The things he’d like to do with that mouth…
“I mean,” you continued, “you saw the kind of day I had.”
Jack nodded. “Sorry to say, I did. You handled it well though. You’re not hurt?”
“A few bumps and bruises. I’ve had worse.” You were still looking at him in a way that made him feel like you were sizing him up. “Why do I suspect you have as well?”
He shrugged. “I might’ve been tossed around pretty good once or twice.” Not usually by a horse. “Had a pretty shit day myself,” he admitted.
“Well in that case,” you looked back towards the bar, “Can we get another round?”
****
A second round had soon turned into a third, and a pleasant warmth was spreading through your body that had less and less to do with the tequila in your bloodstream and more and more to do with the man sitting across from you.
He had a quiet but commanding presence about him, accentuated by a low, slow, purposeful way of talking. He certainly wasn’t bad to look at either. Those eyes were even more devastating up close, paired with a sharp nose, a strong jaw, and full lips that you wouldn’t mind getting between your teeth.
There was an impulsive energy ricocheting between you, both of you taking turns moving closer, letting gazes linger just a bit too long, that electric spark you’d felt when your eyes connected growing, threatening to catch and burn. You had it in your mind to encourage it.
So far you’d both managed to skirt around any details that were too personal (including names), but had still managed to fill an hour with conversation. He’d asked about and then listened attentively when you’d told him about the events after your ride, had raised a glass with you in a toast “to assholes getting what’s coming to them.”
When you’d asked what had made his day “shit” as he’d put it, he simply replied, “Someone wasn’t where they were supposed to be.”
That line of questioning appeared to be closed after his response, and you decided not to push him. You already had enough sad stories. You wanted something different.
“So,” the conversation had hit a lull while you weighed your next step, “moving on then? After tonight?” He asked his arm resting over the back of the booth.
“Yeah, most likely. I’ll have to go find another job. You?”
“Yes.”
“Hm,” you let your eyes slowly trail down his face, neck, and chest, then back up, let them hang on his lips before they flickered back to catch his gaze. He was watching you intently, and he leaned forward when you did. You smiled mischievously. He swallowed.
“On your feet,” you requested.
His eyebrows shot up but he did as he was told. A good sign that he was capable of following directions. You stood, too, taking stock of the several inches he had on you in height, the way his broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips, and the span of his hands when he rested them there, not to mention the sizable… Yeah, he’d do.
Before you could second-guess yourself, your hand reached out and fisted in his shirt as you pulled him to you. Your mouth crashed against his, the top of your head bumping against his hat. The press of your lips was a firm invitation, but you didn’t move to deepen it. Instead, you waited for him to make the next advance, but he just stood there, frozen.
Damn, how fucking disappointing.
You let him go with a sigh. “Alright, well thanks for the drink.”
“Hold on.” He seemed to shake himself out of the trance and came towards you again, but you were already stepping around him, moving quickly towards the exit. You shouldn’t have expected the day to do a turnaround, had set yourself up for this one.
“Bye, cowboy,” you called out over your shoulder, and you were out the door. You heard it open again a few moments later as you were already walking in the direction of your motel.
“Hey! Hold up!”
“I don’t do second chances, cowboy.” You didn’t even look over your shoulder as you said it.
“Give me one anyway.” You could hear his boots as they crunched into the loose gravel of the parking lot, a quick scuff as he picked up his pace.
“Why should I?” He was behind you now and you were about to turn on your own when strong fingers closed around your wrist and pulled you back, spinning you to face him.
“Let me show you.” His other hand came up to cup and hold the nape of your neck as he brought you back to him. And this time when your lips met, neither of you held back.
He moved quickly into your space, forcing you backward until your back hit brick, and you were pressed up against the outside wall of the bar. His body slotted against yours in a way designed to overwhelm you, designed to show you just how big he was, to know the strength and muscle that waited beneath his clothing. When his denim-clad thigh found its way between yours, you could feel how hard he was against your hip.
Your lips parted in a soft gasp, and his tongue was in your mouth as his fingers started digging into your waist. You both warred for control of the kiss, tongues pressing, teeth nipping, hands grabbing. He tasted like the whiskey that had filled his glass. You wanted him to taste of you.
You arched against him as he caged you against the wall, and he temporarily moved the battle to different ground, left hot open-mouth kisses along the column of your throat. His hands skimmed along the exposed skin of your stomach, drifting higher as your tank top did, the desire for more clear in the press of his fingertips. Your own fingers found his belt buckle, tugged him closer, closer. You needed him closer to satisfy the growing ache.
“Since you seem to be open to second chances now, how about we take this elsewhere?” He asked, shifted his thigh to press more firmly to your core as he rubbed against you.
“Where did you have in mind?” Your voice sounded breathy even to your own ears, and you dragged your teeth along his jaw, fisted your hands in his shirt so he wouldn’t think he’d won your submission just yet.
“I’m staying at the...” He trailed off when you tangled your fingers in the soft curls that brushed the collar of his jacket, tugged so he’d tilt his head back, and you could devote some effort to sucking a mark into his neck. “Fuck, I’m staying at the motel down the street.”
“Okay,” you nodded into the crook of his neck, waited for him to step back. But he didn’t. Instead, his hands came up to frame your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a gesture that felt far too tender after all the heat that preceeded it.
“I can’t—I can’t do more than...” The end of his sentence was lost as you brought your mouth back to his. You knew the direction he was going.
“One night,” you murmured against his lips, then drew back so you could meet his eyes. “For both of us. We both get what we need. Deal?”
“Deal,” he said, but you thought you saw a flash of something like sadness in his eyes before it was swallowed up again in desire. He stepped away from the wall at last, but not before he took your hand in his, pulling you towards what happened next.
ONS Tag List (Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed):
@alliterative-albatross @djarinsbeskar @asta-lily @phoenixhalliwell
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ohnococo · 3 years
Text
Cozy Night In | Porco x AFAB!Reader
Summary: Porco is kind of cute when he’s all needy and desperate... and you decide you want to find out how well he can control himself. 
Warnings: cockwarming, modern au, creampie
MINORS DNI/18+ ONLY UNDER THE CUT!
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Porco had been so needy all day, nuzzling at your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist, his hands all over you every chance he got. During each attempt to have you in his arms you'd been in the middle of something, consoling your pouty boyfriend (and the hard cock in his sweatpants that he was pressing against you at every opportunity) with promises of "Later, Pock, I'm just busy right now."
You had been, really, but it felt nice to feel wanted so badly by your impatient boyfriend. Plus, you really did have to admit he was so cute when he was needy like this so... maybe you were letting it go on a little longer than it really had to, especially when you'd sat down to watch a movie your friends had been suggesting to you for ages. You were settled in lying on your couch, perfectly comfy, when Porco came in and immediately began talking over the tv.
"You're watching a movie now?" He was looking betrayed, in his feelings at this point about not being able to do anything yet.
"Yeah, I am."
"But baby..." he pouts.
You scoot forward on the couch a bit, patting the space behind you, "I'm already 20 minutes in, stop talking over it and sit down if you're gonna stay in here."
It felt a little mean, but... it was an interesting movie and the way Porco dragged his feet as he came over had you hiding a smile behind the blanket you’d loosely draped over yourself. He settles in behind you, covering himself with the blanket as well before pulling you close with an arm around your waist as he nuzzles at your neck.
He thinks he's being slick as he lets a few minutes pass before he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, just the smallest peck at first. Then he licks his lips, leaving a longer kiss just a little bit further down. With the next kiss, where your neck and shoulder meet, he adds his tongue to the mix and sucks lightly at the sensitive skin - all while slowly moving the hand wrapped around your waist up to cup at your breast.
"Are you trying to distract me?"
"No... I just wanna touch you..."
"Fine." You feign annoyance, though your hardening nipples let him know that you're enjoying the distraction.
He takes it as a signal to continue on, which it is, and slides his hand under your shirt to trace round your nipple, kissing your shoulder and pressing his hard cock against your ass. "Babyyy, look what you did."
You press back into him, but turn the volume up on the movie slightly.
He lets out a dejected little whine. "You don't want it?"
"I want to watch the movie." You try to have some sense of finality in your voice, but can't seem to bring yourself to stop arching into Porco's touch. He calls your bluff as he moves his hand from under your shirt down to dip beneath the loose pair of shorts you'd chosen to lounge around in, brushing his fingers lightly over your wetness.
"Doesn't feel like you don't want it."
You don't respond at first, thinking it over, and still enjoying your little game despite how good even the smallest touch from your boyfriend had felt after a day of denying him. Porco seems to sense that you're deep in thought, letting his hand hover over your pussy without further action until the warmth radiating off of it has you shivering with need ever so slightly.
You make your decision. "Fine, you can put it in, but we're not fucking until the movie is over."
Porco is silent for a moment, processing what you've said, before he's sitting up and sliding your shorts down your legs and tossing them on the opposite end of the couch. He lies back down behind you and spits in his hand before rubbing it around your entrance just to be sure he slides in comfortably.
He catches your sneer and laughs, "C'mon, you don't usually mind my spit on your pussy."
"You want me to change my mind, Pock?"
He knows you're joking, but doesn't risk it as he slides down his sweats just enough to free his cock. He spreads your legs, holding one up by your thigh to give him access and rubs his cock against you. "Help me out a little."
You don't challenge him, hoping you were effectively playing off the way your heart was racing from the feel of the head of his cock bobbing against your skin, spreading precum in its path. You reach your hand down between your legs, guiding him to your entrance and letting loose a low sigh as he slides into you slowly. Once he settles himself inside of you, you arch your back further to make sure he’s able to fill you completely, and try to disguise a groan at the feeling of fullness as clearing your throat.
“Feels good, baby?”
Obviously, but you want to see how well he’ll hold out. “Shh, I’m trying to hear the movie.”
He mumbles a little sorry, though clearly has no intention of paying much attention as he nuzzles at the back of your neck. He was doing his best so far, actually staying in place. Quickly enough you aren’t focusing on the movie either, instead trying to will yourself not to bounce even lightly on his cock. He’d never seemed so heavy inside of you before now, and the pleasant stretch of his thickness has you getting wetter by the second. You close your legs, lying comfortably again, and the tightness has Porco groaning into your neck. His breath against your hair gets harder, faster, seemingly always just a moment away from becoming full on fussing until he finally gives in to his instincts and gives you a few shallow thrusts.
You put your hand on his hip to steady him. “Be still.”
He whines, but does as you say, though his cock does throb inside of you as it only becomes harder to keep yourself from rocking back into him. As the movie continues on, though you have no clue how much time has passed or what was even happening on the screen, you’re fairly impressed with Porco. Your boyfriend is certainly not known for his restraint, so to have him so still and compliant with his cock buried fully inside of you is unheard of. You’re caught in two minds with this, unable to concentrate on the movie with Porco’s thick cock stretching at your walls, but unwilling to give in - not with how cute he is when he’s trying his best to behave. Instead, you keep your head forward, and slowly reach a hand hidden under your blanket downwards, sliding a finger between your legs to gently circle your clit. You won’t give him the satisfaction of moving, wanting to see how long he can handle just letting his cock rest inside of you, but your own self-control is quickly faltering.
You feel you’re getting away with it, soft sighs seemingly masked by the sound of the tv as you build momentum on your clit, heat growing steadily in your stomach as you do. Then, Porco lets out his own noise, a high pitched whimper that makes your pussy clench around him.
“Babyyyy… you can’t do that…” his whines are muffled in your hair as he tries his best to find his contentment in merely cuddling you, even as his cock twitches in response to your warmth. You don’t respond, but he doesn’t seem to notice sweat begins prickling at his forehead, his palm against your hip becoming clammy.
You have to laugh at how hard he’s actually focused on this, trying his very best to remain compliant, but the laugh only serves to have you clenching around him again. He fusses, pressing his hips forward, but you decide not to admonish him as he just remains still while buried deep inside you, sending tingles through your body.
Instead, you allow your fingers to move faster against your clit, and you try your best to keep your breathing steady as you only bring more wetness to leak out around Porco’s cock and coat your thighs. You try to counteract each involuntary flutter of your pussy, but find just how unsuccessful it is as Porco clings to you and begins panting into your neck.
“I can’t, I can’t… baby I have to fuck you-” he can’t stop himself, reaching his hand down from your breast to spread your legs as he starts thrusting up and into you at a desperate pace. He reaches down for your clit, and finds your fingers already there, no longer hiding the fact that you need to cum now as his cock has you seeing stars with every rough, deep thrust.
“You gonna cum with me?”
“Yes, Pock.”
“Please milk my cock baby, please-” he doesn’t get far into asking before your walls are clenching around him as the heat in your core spreads through your whole body and you cum around him, sounds of your wet cunt being fucked so hard and fast through your orgasm almost matching Porco’s whines as he holds you tight and fills you. His thrusts only continue, until you’re trembling in his arms at the overstimulation, pushing at his thigh to let him know to go easy on you now. He’s stills, spent cock still twitching inside of you occasionally as he leans back panting.
“I did try…”
You’re charmed by the hint of defeat in his voice, and twist round to give him a kiss. “It’s ok, I know you did.”
The relief of finally cumming washes over the two of you as you return to cuddling, ignoring the cum dribbling out around Porco’s softened cock as it slips out of you. Then, he thinks back to how your fingers had already been feverishly working at your clit when he’d reached down to touch you. “Were you playing with yourself the whole time?”
You smile at him sheepishly, beginning to rewind the movie to where you’d last been paying attention… before realizing catching up was a lost cause for the night. “Maybe…” you finally reply.
“Babe, that’s not fair…” he pouts, but you leaning back to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose has him smiling again right away.
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bellesque · 4 years
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can I request a Loki/reader fan fic where Loki and the reader are dating but their sex has been pretty vanilla because he is worried about hurting or scaring her with his darker dominant side and his strength but one day he discovers she is actually into that and he indulges her wishes please? happy birthday and thank you for this!
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Kneel (Loki x Reader)
Read on my AO3.
Summary:
Loki’s a little banged up from battle, you’ve got some very specific (read: dirty) thoughts, and you find that’s all it takes for the God of Mischief to indulge in a few of your fantasies.
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 3.4K
Warnings/Tags: Smut (duh), Rough Sex, Wall Sex, Cum Play, Overstimulation, Blow Jobs, Slight Dom/sub Dynamics
A/N: My birthday was on the 12th okay YES I KNOW THIS IS SO LATE but I hope you guys enjoy the first of the three fic requests! Loki kind of just took it his own direction, I’m not sure what happened—anyway, if you guys want a part two to this just let me know hihi okay enjoy!
Tag List: @shiningloki @imnotrevealingmyname @wolfsmom1 @hanyasnape @lukeyirwy @toozmanykids (Tag List is currently open! If you’d like to be a part of it, let me know!)
YOU SHOULDN’T BE lying on your cozy spring mattress, with Loki’s arm sprawled across your waist, entirely comfortable, sated from sex, and yet somehow wide awake.
You should be asleep. As knocked out, if not more, as Loki is right now. His breath comes in even pants behind you, a telling sign of the quality of his current rest. While you’re relaxed and your mind is absolutely prepared for bed, you can’t seem to fall into a state of drowsiness.
There are a few late night musings that currently keep you from it. Mostly about, well, sex.
Not that you’re complaining. Loki’s fantastic in bed. He’s gentle, he’s passionate, he’s nurturing and careful… maybe to a fault.
Again. Not that you’re complaining.
It’s just when you date someone like Loki, a literal god, you expect a little more… spice. A little less nice.
But why the restraint? It baffles you. You can tell he’s holding himself back. When you think Loki’s about to slam into you, bruise your hips with the harsh grip of his fingers, he rocks into you with long, slow strokes, kissing your neck and murmuring how amazing you are.
Again. You’re not complaining.
But you wouldn’t be opposed to a little more… bite. As much as you love his romantic lovemaking, you essentially, well—you want to get fucked.
And you’ve tried to make it happen. On multiple occasions. You wrestled him onto his back once, topping him right in the middle of sex. You were expecting him to put you back in your place, even at least instruct you from his position underneath you, but Loki only let you ride him, unbothered in the least.
Okay, maybe you weren’t clear. Maybe he just thought you wanted to try a new position. Fair, fine—it was only the first attempt, you told yourself.
The second time around, you thought you were a bit clearer with your intentions. You got on all fours, wiggling your ass at him as you arched your back and whispered in a sultry tone, “Come get it, mischief.”
Except he rubbed a palm over your ass once and flipped you right over.
It’s not that you’re undesirable. You know Loki loves you with his whole heart. Your gut tells you that there’s more to the rejection to your advancements than he lets on.
Do you come on too strong?
No, you’re sure you don’t. You got the tiniest taste of the forbidden fruit once and just from that, you just know the desire is somewhere inside him, buried deep.
Oh, that moment. That singular, unrestrained moment gives you shudders until now.
You clenched around his cock particularly hard, and Loki rutted into you with a sharp snap of his hips, burying himself deeper, his teeth biting at your earlobe.
You let out a surprised gasp of pleasure… and that was it.
So what do you have to do to get that moment again, repeated into hours and hours of mindblowing, rough sex?
-- 
(As it turns out, nothing.)
You drape Loki’s arm over your shoulders, doing your best not to buckle under the weight of him. He’s so fucking heavy, and he knows that—instead of putting his weight onto you, he pulls you closer towards him like some kind of reverse crutch. You huff in frustration. “Lean on me.”
“Which would leave us one too many injured. No, thank you.”
You pull on his singed sleeve. “Lean.”
“Can you handle it?” Loki manages to sound amused despite the current grimace on his face.
A flare of annoyance rises in you together with a fleeting thrill. “I-I can handle it,” you say, neck heating up at the double meaning.
He probably doesn’t think much of it. But you—it’s been eating at your subconscious for a consistent few nights now. Especially when you’ve watched him train every day, those lean muscles rippling and covered in a light sheen of sweat, in preparation for today’s battle.
One which you know he lost.
You and Loki are quiet when you enter the Tower in the dead of night. The weight of defeat hangs heavy in the air, and Loki’s stiff and distracted when you enter the elevator and punch in the button to your designated floor. Carefully you maneuver around him, making sure not to brush against any of his bruises and scrapes, and tilt his chin so you can see him in the elevator light.
Loki gazes at you affectionately, some of his previous frustrations now disappearing from the creases in his face. “You’re awfully concerned, little one. Have you forgotten Asgardians heal faster than mortals?”
“Just let me look at you.”
“You’ve looked at me before.”
“I don’t need your smartass mouth right now.” You brush your thumb against the corner of his mouth, noticing a cut running along his top lip. You soften. “What happened?”
Loki exhales, his expression hardening when he turns away. Your hand falls from his face and the elevator dings. Wordlessly you support him as you walk to your room, keeping in step with him and making sure his limp isn’t too bad.
But hell. He’s heavy.
Once you make it inside, you don’t press further—instead you clean his wounds, help him bathe, and make sure he eats and drinks despite his insistent “I’m fine.” You wear him down. It’s part of your charm. It’s what you do best.
Loki holds you after that. Says nothing about the battle of today’s mission, or his scars; he tucks your head under his chin and rubs your back while you listen to the steady beat of his heart until it lulls you into sleep.
 --
“Do you want to see?”
The deep rumble of Loki’s voice makes you stir. You open your eyes, groggy, and peer up at him. From the looks of it, he’s been awake for a while, staring contemplatively at the ceiling.
“What?” you say, a beat late. You admire his face, no matter how stoic he seems right now.
He looks at you. His face has mostly healed, the cut on his lip now a light scar. “What happened.”
You perk up immediately. “Only if you want to. I mean, you can trust me.”
Loki nods, bringing your foreheads together. Instantly you’re a spectator in the middle of battle. The stench of blood and sweat are pungent in the air, the clatter and clang of weapons mixed with battle cries roaring in your ears. There, a few feet away from you, is Loki.
Pride and attraction weave together and swell inside you as you watch Loki in his element. Graceful. Cunning. Strong. Powerful. You’ve seen him fight, but… but not like this.
His opponent moves to punch him—but Loki catches his fist easily. He anticipates it. Doesn’t even flinch. His heels don’t dig into the dirt like his opponent’s do. The scepter in his other hand pulses blue and he kicks it off the ground, using the momentum to swing it into the man’s face.
“Yield,” he growls, shoving the scepter’s blade against the man’s crumpled form.
Ah, fuck—the way you mishear it and think he says kneel doesn’t exactly help your tendency to gravitate towards dirty thoughts. Your pussy clenches as an image of Loki snarling that single word to you flashes in your mind. You see yourself submitting pretty easily, sinking down onto your knees, eyes trained on his Loki’s pleasured face, and—
The room comes back into focus as you’re whipped back to reality. Loki’s staring at you with wide, curious eyes. Near disbelief, pulled with slight awe.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
His beautiful green eyes darken, a smirk stretching across his lips. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and your heart slams against your ribcage as Loki slowly rolls on top of you, pinning you beneath him.
“I saw… while our minds were connected…” He laughs in a short, breathy kind of way, head falling on your shoulder and nipping at your collarbone. A sharp spike of arousal courses within you. “Oh, sweet, is that what you want? For me to ask you to…” He brings his mouth against your ear, dropping his voice to a seductive purr. “Kneel?”
A shudder slides down your spine.
“Or perhaps”—he trails the tip of his tongue around the helix of your ear—“a command.” Loki bites down on your earlobe, quick and sharp and hard, and heat pools like molten lava in your center. “Kneel.”
Your head is spinning. How is it that you’re so turned on already?
Loki shoves a hand between your legs and you whimper. His fingers hook at your damp underwear, pulling it to the side and trailing a finger along your seam.
“Look at how excited you are,” he breathes. “Already so wet, my love?”
You release a shaky exhale. “Loki…”
He pushes himself off you, but not before he whispers, “Turn around and take your clothes off,” in a rough voice.
Your throat feels like it’s dry and watering at the same time, anticipation rushing into you like a waterfall. You flip over, kneeling on the bed—you hope to be kneeling in front of him soon—and shuck off your pajamas.
Once you’re naked, you’re about to ask Loki what to do next—but without warning, he pushes you down, and you fall forward with a faint squeak as he straddles you from behind. You feel his strong, bare chest heaving against your back, his hard length throbbing between your butt cheeks.
Oh, he’s heavy—in more sinful ways than one.
“You’re going to kneel for me later, little one,” he says, his breath warm against your nape. He positions your arms overhead, your fingertips grazing the headboard. He runs his palms along the outside of your body, until his hands close around your hips.
And then he yanks your bodies up, your hips rolling backwards into the air while your torso remains flattened on the mattress. Loki pushes a knee between your legs and nudges them apart, and you suck in a breath you didn’t know was knocked out of you. He rubs his large palms against the side of your ass cheek.
“Will you follow when I instruct you, pet?” He slaps your ass, hard, the meat of it jiggling even after his palm connects to you.
You bite down on your lip. “Yes.”
“Good.” He smacks your ass again, that same intensity as earlier, and you whimper from the pleasurable sting.
“Do you like that, pet?” He rubs circles over your ass.
“Yes—”
He deals another blow, and you arch your back further. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Loki, yes!”
A satisfied growl emerges from the back of his throat, and hooking his forearm over your torso he brings your back against him. His hand finds its way onto your breast, which he kneads and squeezes, rolling your nipple between his fingers.
He bites down on your neck when your head falls back against him, sucking on your sensitive spot and drawing moan after moan from you. Your body is extremely warm now, the need to be stuffed with his cock growing, but at the same time, you want to savor this moment. You don’t know how long Loki’s going to play this game with you.
He releases the skin of your neck with a quiet pop. “Get on the floor, sweet,” he rasps, “kneel for me.”
With your thighs trembling, you crawl to the floor, obediently awaiting him with your chest heaving. Loki slides off the bed, standing in front of you, his cock at your eye level. He’s so hard, veins traversing over his thick shaft that throbs ever so slightly.
You want it in your mouth.
Loki rakes his fingers through your hair and guides your head onto his cock. Your lips slide over him slowly, taking in his length until the head hits the back of your throat.
You hollow your lips and suck once, and Loki hisses.
His grip on your hair tightens considerably, trying to get you to swallow him deeper, and you do until you gag a little. Loki stiffens, and you place your hands on his hips and brush his sides slowly, trying to convey that you’re okay.
And then he’s actively guiding you by the hair, cock sinking into your mouth in a steady tempo while he alternates between stroking your hair and neck.
“That’s it. Good girl. Deeper, love,” he husks, hips moving gently in time with you. He looks down at you with desire written all over his face. “Suck my cock. You’re doing so well. Faster. Ah—your mouth is exquisite, pet, come now… milk my cock, make me cum…”
You hum against him, your tongue fluttering against his frenulum, and Loki curses, hips moving faster while you bob on his length. Your tongue swirls around the head when you pull back and you suction your lips at the base of his cock, and soon Loki’s holding your head in place, your jaw going slack as he jerks into your wanting mouth.
You can tell he’s close, and your wetness intensifies when you visualize his cum sliding down your throat.
But then… then he’s pulling out of your mouth and pushing your head back when he pulses with the telltale sign of release. Instead of cumming in your mouth, his seed shoots out in thick ropes over your chin and chest as he groans out his orgasm.
You scramble forward after admiring the spurt of his cum from so close, and you wrap your lips around his cock before he can finish cumming, sucking on him with newfound vigor. He groans again, fisting your hair even tighter, keeping you in place while you flutter your tongue against the ridges of his cock head. You swallow his load, and some if it dribbles down your chin and onto your breasts.
You know he’s watching you, and in the spirit of being bold while you have this chance, you do something bold. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and using your fingers to scoop up some of the cum on your chest, you bring it to your face. You pop off him and slide your cum-covered fingersinto your mouth sensually. You suck and lick your digits, keeping innocent eye contact, and watch his eyes darken.
“You’re a cum thirsty little slut, aren’t you?” he growls, collecting his cum on his fingers and shoving them into your mouth. “Suck. That’s it, like it’s my cock.”
Your pussy is aching for attention now, your body taut with arousal, and you suck on his fingers like your life depends on it. “You taste so good, Loki,” you whisper. “I just want to be filled by your cock. Your cum. Loki, please, give it to me…”
He pulls his fingers from your mouth and hoists you up by the nape of your neck like it’s easy. Oh fuck, his intensity and his strength are dizzying. He throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing and he smacks your ass.
From this position, you have a clear view of his glutes. And his muscled back. You reach down and just give a tiny squeeze—
He slaps your ass again as he walks you two to the side of the room. “You think you can speak out of turn, little one? Touch my body without my express permission?” He sets you down on your feet with surprising, firm gentleness, and pins you against the wall by the window. “You’re lucky I want to be inside your pussy right now,” he mutters before sealing his lips over yours in a blistering kiss, tongues battling as his hands grope and squeeze at every part of your body. After he sucks on your tongue and leaves you panting and lightheaded, he distances from you to spin you around so your front is to the wall.
He bites down on your shoulder as his cock slips into you and you cry out in pleasure.
“Hands up,” he orders, and you brace your arms against the wall as he pounds into you from behind with unrelenting speed.
You moan, fingers clawing at the wall, trying to find something to ground yourself to. “Loki, your cock, it’s perfect—fuck, Loki, cum inside me, once, twice, fill my fucking cunt—”
He pushes your feet farther apart and lifts you up slightly, the angle causing stars to explode behind your eyes. “Fuck!”
His own hand comes up to brace against the wall beside yours, and he drives deeper into you still. Somehow. “You want my cum, pet? You want to be filled so much that my cum drips out of this delicious cunt for hours?”
Your pussy clenches around him as your orgasm begins to build with a ferocious intensity. Your closed eyes snap open when there’s a noticeable cracking sound by your head.
Cracks spider out on the wall from where his fist is. And that… that single revelation, evidence of his strength, is enough to topple you over and into orgasm.
“Touch yourself,” Loki grunts suddenly, his hands clasping around your wrist and shoving it between your legs.
“I—” you gasp, a shudder wracking your body as your orgasm pulses, “I’m still—”
“Do it.”
You swallow, shaking fingers finding your clit and you rub yourself in rapid circles; Loki hasn’t slowed his pace one bit, and from the overstimulation it doesn’t take long until you’re cumming again.
“That’s it,” Loki coaxes, your toes rising off the floor with every strong, unyielding thrust, “cum all over my cock. Good girl.”
With his cock still inside you, he brings you towards the bed, feet off the floor. He maneuvers you so you twist on his cock and your chests are pressed together. Your back meets the soft mattress and you look up at Loki hovering above you. One of Loki’s hands is braced on the headboard; the other circles your clit lazily. Your mouth stays parted as you stare up at him with glassy, sex-sated eyes.
“Loki…” you say, weak. You feel like jelly, but you aren’t exactly ready to give up the euphoric state of bliss you’re in. “You… you can go even harder—if, if you want to.”
His movements slow to a stop and his eyes fill with quiet adoration. “Are you sure that’s what you want, sweet? I never want to hurt you, or scare you, with my strength.” He manages a small though equally sexy smirk. “And I am a very strong Asgardian as it is.”
You clench, bringing Loki deeper inside you, and he groans. “As hard as you want,” you affirm.
Loki’s eyes widen imperceptibly and his pupils dilate in the same millisecond. And then he’s kissing you fiercely, shoving your knees up over his shoulders and he bottoms out, both of you moaning at the sensation.
“I love you,” he whispers, and you almost can’t hear it. His hips are then slamming into you at breakneck speed. He pins your arms above your head, sucking another bruise into your neck at the same time. The sounds of your sex obscenely fill the room, your already swollen, overstimulated clit stimulated even further with every stroke, and soon you’re screaming hoarsely that you’re about to cum.
Your third—fourth, fifth?—orgasm unravels when you start gyrating as he thrusts into you, your body convulsing with the pleasure that shoots through you. Loki cums seconds later with a shout, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulses inside you. He murmurs dirty nothings against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses in between.
He pulls out of you, nuzzling your neck, and his hand travels down towards your spent cunt. He spreads your juices across your swollen lips. “How are you, dove?”
“Never been better,” you slur, letting out a relaxed sigh. It’s true. It’s like a nagging itch has finally been scratched.
“Are you sure about that?”
Your eyebrows pull together. “What do you mean?”
Loki grins, dark mischief and desire clouding his eyes. “Quite bold of you, pet, to assume we’re finished.”
He flips you onto your stomach again, his cock hardening behind you as he pulls your arms toward the headboard. There’s a click and the gleam of a metal chain shines in the morning sun.
Loki presses a kiss to your neck, nibbling at the spot behind your ear and whispers something that makes your skin tingle with fresh arousal.
“I’m far from finished with you, pet. Now. On your knees.”
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jonsa101 · 3 years
Text
Yes, There’s Only 14 Episodes in Season 3 But Sharpwin is On Track and Progressing How They’re Supposed To.
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There has been so much talk about this season’s writing and the lack of Sharpwin scenes that I thought I would just address everything in this post.
First, the writing this season is NOT BAD! In my honest opinion I actually think this season has some of the best writing in the series. Compared to season two, the writing is head and shoulders above what we got last year. More than ever before we are diving into these characters stories, seeing friendships form, getting a better look into their home life and seeing secondary characters shine! This is a good thing! These were the things that were so desperately needed in season 2 but we didn’t see this play out. I’ve said this before in my infamous season 2 rant and I’ll say it again, a show can’t solely depend on a ship! It has to have great storytelling and good character development for all of it’s main characters. This is what New Amsterdam failed to do in season two and they’re now making it up for it in season 3. The only area I would say the storyline suffered was the Cassian, Helen and Max “love triangle.” There was definitely more intent with that plot before the pandemic. Cassian was not only supposed to be a catalyst for Jealous Max and Sharpwin but he was also supposed to come in and challenge the way Max did things. Cassian’s whole thing was self care first=great patient care which was the complete opposite of Max and the two of them were supposed to clash. Obviously this completely changed due to the pandemic. You can’t have a storyline about a doctor prioritizing himself first for “better patient care”in the midst of thousands of doctors globally throwing themselves on the frontlines and even loosing their lives to COVID-19. It would have been a terrible look to have that storyline so they clearly scrapped it! What we saw was probably them trying to salvage whatever was left from the original plot while they still had Daniel Dae Kim in the limited amount of episodes for season 3.
Apart from that, I think the writers are doing a fantastic job in terms of character development this season. Arguably I would say that Iggy probably has the best storyline so far and that’s incredible for his character. Tyler Labine is acting his ass off and Iggy’s scenes with Lauren, Vijay and Martin were top tier!!! We are finally getting a Max and Reynolds bromance that was teased in season one but literally know where to be found in season two! It’s great seeing them bond on screen and I hope we get more moments with these two. We’re also seeing Reynold’s “life plan” blow up in his face and we finally have some closure with Bloom. They kept us in limbo for so long! We didn’t know if him and Bloom were truly over but now we finally know. Also, it seems like he and Evie are officially done as well and he might have a new love interest on the horizon. For Lauren, she’s clearly seems to be having a coming out story which is something I didn’t see coming at all. I’m really curious how they’re going to play this out for her and can’t wait to see it unfold. Last but not least, for Max and Helen they are both going through massive character development phases which leads me to my second point.
I love a good Max and Helen scene as much as the next person. To me they’re the ultimate ship and I want to see them thrive and flourish but just because we don’t see Max and Helen interact doesn’t mean that the show isn’t properly developing or investing in their relationship!!!!!!!!The relationship between Max and Helen is so nuanced that their relationship doesn’t hang in the balance because they don’t have more witty, flirtatious, or emotional dialogue. Don’t get me wrong, I adore those moments. Those scenes between them make us the passionate sharwpin shippers we are. At the same time though, we have to truly take a look at why the state of their relationship is where its at now and why from a narrative perspective their current interactions make sense. In order to do this, we have to take a look at where Max and Helen left off last year.
At the end of season 2, Max made a move on Helen and almost kissed her in her office. After this moment occurred he never addressed it and at the time he was still dating Alice. There’s no doubt in my mind that this was the catalyst for why Helen started dating Cassian in the first place. She had practically laid her feelings out there and told Max he was the reason she gave up half of her department. After this revelation and the massive, intimate moment he initiated in her office, he didn’t even have the decency to address it. He swept it under the rug and wanted to keep the same relationship that he had with her like nothing ever happened. Even though Helen was aware about Alice, we now know from season 3 that Helen felt a type away that Max never “officially” told Helen that he was dating her. This is IMPORTANT!!! Max and Helen did not end on a high note in season 2. In fact, the very last scenes we see of season 2 is Helen blowing off Max to go on a date with Cassian and Max breaking off things with Alice. I know this wasn’t intentional due to the season being cut short but it definitely contributes to where they are now. 
Fast forward a year later, and not only do we still have a massive almost kissed elephant in the room between Max and Helen but also the trauma of being on the frontlines of a pandemic and going through the biggest social justice movement the world has seen. This is something I’ve said many times over but I’m not sure the fandom recognizes how much these events have permanently altered these characters and changed the dynamics of this show. COVID-19 changed everything. The Black Live Matter Movement for the first time grabbed the attention of the world and changed everything too! Max and Helen are in the process of trying to heal and rebuild their lives the best they can as individuals after such a tumultuous year. At the same time, they are acutely aware of the feelings they have for each other and the UST between them and are carrying the weight of that as well. Naturally guys, the combination of all this is going to change most dynamics in a relationship. Things are awkward and distant  because Max and Helen are awkward and distant!! They have a lot of shit that they’re going through as individuals and subconsciously as a “couple.” They are clearly not in a healthy place to be as vulnerable as they once were to each other. And how can they be when their feelings have literally been eating at them for over year?! It’s hard to ignore that and try to force yourself to go back to the way things were. Especially when their feelings have “technically”  been out in the open since the end of season 2. They both know what it is! They were steps away from unleashing years of built up sexual tension between them and they went on with their lives like it never even happened. Max walking in on her and Cassian kissing in HER OFFICE and subsequently having that convo with Helen was not for shits and giggles. It triggered the BEAST of his feelings that he had fought so hard to suppress. There is no doubt in my mind that when he saw them in her office kissing, he was having some serious dejavu to their almost kissing affair last year. He‘s in love with her and she’s in love with him but this what happens when you continuously try and run away from those feelings and let it fester instead of trying to deal with it head on. The dynamic  were seeing between them now is a result of their unresolved issues and it absolutely plays into Sharpwin’s story. It doesn’t take away from it. It makes sense for where they are NOW! 
If we look at season three holistically, you’ll realize that a momentum for something significant happening for Sharpwin has been set through the acting and writing. I got to give it to Ryan Eggold. He has that fire and desire, Mr. Darcy type level acting down to a tee so far. It is so satisfying seeing Max so overcome with his feelings that you can tangibly see it in his body language and hear it in his voice. We have seen Max taken aback by Helen before but we have NEVER seen him like this. I keep on saying it but this is different guys. Something has shifted and it seems like Max is on the verge of exploding. His feeling are burning hot right underneath the surface and it’s a beautiful thing to behold. Last night’s episode was ripe with this type of content and Ryan was in his acting bag! It wasn’t an overtly “Sharpwin” episode but the writing and the acting is so clever and methodical, it will have you thinking otherwise. At the beginning of season 3 Max told Helen that he wants to build something better for Luna and something better for her. Was last night not a beautiful reflection of that? One question asking Max if he has ever loved a black woman put him in the shoes of his patient’s husband and had Max advocating for his wife like he would advocate for Helen if it was her! If that’s not fucking romantic I don’t know what it is and if the alarm bells aren’t going off that there is something deeper at play here with a huge payoff around the corner I don’t know what to tell you! Another moment that sticks out to me like a sore thumb is when Helen was telling Cassian that her brother died. I wrote about this in a previous meta of mind but Helen at her most vulnerable telling Cassian that she feels like she’s running out of time is SO SIGNIFICANT guys!!! It’s not only tell us that she fears that she’s missing out on the windows of opportunities for the wants and needs in her life but it literally sets the pacing of how quickly Sharpwin is going to progress. It is the beautiful freudian slip that tells us exactly where things are headed for these two. To me this is equivalent to Max telling Helen “I love my doctor” and “what if I want you?” in season 1. This episode had no interaction between Max and Helen but it was a MASSIVE Sharpwin indicator through and through! These are just a couple of examples but even their respective journeys in parenting is so Sharpwin driven. So in all I’m not mad in the direction the show has taken to showcase their relationship this season because Sharpwin is deeply interwoven in the storyline this year even if it’s not overtly obvious through emotional dialogue/ interactions. 
Also, one thing you have to realize is this, season three is wrapping up a lot of loose ends from season 2 and when it comes to Max and Helen these two points will be/ have to be addressed in the next six episodes.
The Almost Kiss
Whether or Not They Want To Be Together
The showrunners know without a shadow of doubt that the resolution for these two points is owed! If Sharpwin is talking about their almost kiss, there is no way that they aren’t talking about what they mean to each other and what their future looks like together. Both solutions literally go hand in hand and I promise you they are not delaying the resolution for that till season 4. It’s not happening fam. We will see this play out within the next six episodes. So in hindsight, more Sharpwin interaction are on the horizon. 
When I was making predictions about this season I wasn’t aware that this season would only be 14 episodes. I’m sad that season 3 is so short but that still doesn’t change my mind for where I think the story is going. Call me crazy but I’m sticking to my guns. There is something about how Ryan is portraying Max that is signaling something huge. Also I just trust the context clues that i believe the show is giving. I trust it! Anyway y’all! If you have any sharpwin question just DM here or message me on Twitter! my username is @oyindaodewale. 
Love you guys! ❤️
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reneejuliet · 3 years
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Only Human
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Author: reneejuliet
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader
Rating: T (cursing, mention/description of blood, kissing without consent, a slap to the face)
Word Count: 1,188
Genre: Angst, Idol AU (I seem incapable of writing anything else, I know)
Author’s Note: Another drabble! This one is angsty, sorry in advance. I can’t help but love to make people hurt. And as much as I love Yoongi (which is a LOT), it was just too easy with this. Anyway! I hope you like it, and as always, please let me know what you think!
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You grunted under his weight, heaved haphazardly onto your shoulder as you dragged him through the halls toward the dorm. It wasn't that he was heavy - on the contrary, he weighed less than you did, for goodness' sake. It was that he was wasted, completely beyond offering any sort of aid in getting his own damn body through his own damn front door. And despite how many times you have had to do this, it never gets any easier. Especially when arms keep throwing themselves around various parts of your body like a drunken squid.
"Damn it, Yoongi, enough," you hissed through your teeth as you finally managed to free a hand long enough to twist open the doorknob, allowing your foot to kick the door open. It ricocheted loudly against the wall before swinging back to collide with your shoulder, but you didn't care. If anything, maybe it would wake up one of his six roommates and they could drag their hyung's inebriated ass to his bed. Though, given his current level of cooperation, you doubted anyone would get him further than the couch.
His response was slurred as you heaved your body forward, dragging him with you. He rolled from where he had been propped on your shoulder, and if it weren't for your quick reflexes, he would have crashed onto the ground. Luckily for him, this was not your first go at this, and you were well-versed in all the warning signs. You felt him slipping, his weight shifting away from you, and you dove. Your hands scooped up under his arms, hooking around his shoulders, and you threw your body weight behind you to counteract his momentum. The result - Yoongi did not crash onto the floor. He did, however, suddenly shoot forward, crashing the back of his head straight into your jaw.
"OW - Yoongi, what the actual fuck!"
You immediately dropped any grip you had left on him, crouching down between your knees as your hands flew up to your mouth. The hot taste of iron swirled on your tongue from where your teeth had smashed into your lip, flooding your mouth. You ran for the kitchen sink, throwing your face down into the sterling silver and pulling your lips up over your teeth to let the blood fall free from your tongue. The smell surrounded you, and you fought back a gag as you spit out crimson.
"Fuck," Yoongi's voice sounded behind you, tinny from where your ears were framed by metal. He rubbed the back of his head, suddenly very awake, and watched as you curled into their sink. The muscles of your back tensed each time you gagged, spitting out more blood, and he found himself reaching out without thinking.
His fingers brushed over the lines of your back, tracing your shape as he stepped closer, trying to soothe you as you coughed. For a moment, you let it be. His touch was hesitant, tender, and you could almost pretend it was under a different context. That he knew what he was doing, that his intentions were purposeful. That he hadn't just drunkenly smashed his head into your face, leaving you the bloody mess you were now.
It wasn't until his palm pressed flat against your back that you snapped, turning and shoving hard against his chest. No, you scolded yourself. This isn't real. It never will be.
Yoongi stumbled back into the island counter, eyes wide in surprise at the sudden burst of violence from you. You didn't spare him a glance before turning back to the sink, turning the water on and rinsing out your mouth. He could hear you hissing in pain with each mouthful of water you took in, and guilt pooled in his stomach.
"Shit, Y/N, I - I didn't mean -"
"Doesn't matter what you meant," you muttered, words thick through your swollen lip. Each time your tongue pressed into it, your face twisted in pain. But at least the blood had finally stopped.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice low and raspy. You gripped the counter against the unwitting shiver it sent down your spine. Once it passed, you flung open a cupboard and pulled out a glass, filling it with water before shutting the tap off. Thrusting it out, you turned, free hand covering your mouth as your eyes finally met his.
His stomach only flooded worse with guilt at your offering. Despite your injury, you were still taking care of him. He wrapped his fingers around the glass, gently grazing your own while doing so, and raised it to his lips with a slight bow in your direction. His vision swam as his head tilted back, cold water sliding down his hot, parched throat. It took a second for everything to straighten back out once the glass was empty, and he squinted hard to be sure that when he set it down, it was actually on the counter. Then he looked back at you, eyes drawn to where your hand still covered your mouth.
"Couch, now," you ordered, raising a finger to point into the living room behind him. Thankfully, those two words didn't require the use of your bottom lip, so they weren't as disfigured when they came out. Gulping, Yoongi obliged, turning slowly and walking for the couch. You followed him, albeit at a safe distance, to make sure he made it there alright. He only bumped into the table once before his legs hit the cushions and he dropped.
His body automatically laid out across the couch cushions, knees curling up into his chest and hands tucking between his legs. The room blurred again at the change of altitude, and he was vaguely aware of you throwing a blanket over him. You walked away, your form dark in the swimming lights of his vision as he tried to watch you. When you came back, you set another glass of water on the table before him along with two pills.
"For tomorrow morning, when you wake up," you instructed, your words soft as you favored your injured lip.
You were walking away again when Yoongi called out. "Do you think this is why she left?"
Your heart stopped just a second before your feet, trapping you between rooms as his words echoed brokenly in the quiet. This wasn't supposed to happen, you reminded yourself. Of all the trainees and idols you had helped through the years, all the drunken confessions you had heard out of sheer compulsion from the nature of your job - none were like this. Like him. Min Yoongi.
"Yoongi -"
"I know it's my fault," he babbled, vision no longer obscured only by a drunken haze. He blinked, and the hot tears cut down his pale face. "I wasn't home enough -"
"You were working, Yoongi," You offered, careful to make your words come out clear. The pull on your lip was painful, but it felt important he hear you.
"Not always," he exhaled, eyes fluttering against the exhaustion setting in now. "Sometimes, I... I just couldn't, go home... to her..."
Gooseflesh rose all along your skin, and you nearly bit your lip before remembering the pain, sucking in the side of your cheek instead. Just walk away, you urged yourself. He won't notice, he's too far gone now. Besides, you really did not want to hear more about his failed relationship, or how heartbroken he was over it. It had been hard enough to see him happy with her - seeing him broken over her was so, so much worse.
When he didn't speak again for a few breaths, you believed you were in the clear. Your feet carried you two more steps to the door, heart pounding hard in your chest. You'd just reached for the key you would have to deposit back in its emergency spot as you left when his voice stopped you again - because it was right behind you.
"Do you know why, Y/N? Why I couldn't bring myself to go home to her some nights?"
Your breath hitched in your throat, cold and cutting against your lip. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel his body heat, and that meant he was too close, he was much too close, but you couldn't move. Your body was pulled taut in that moment, and you feared that if you made any move, you would snap.
His fingers brushed over the curve of your neck, where it met your collar, and you inhaled sharply. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch for a moment, your nerves buzzing heavily where his fingers trailed. Then his breath was on your nape, stirring your hair, and your throat was dry.
"Because she wasn't you."
Your eyes shot open in surprise just as he tugged you around, crashing his lips to yours. You inhaled sharply again, pain searing through your mouth where he pressed against your wound, but he didn't hear. Or he didn't care. It was hard to tell, with the way his hands snaked around your waist and up under your shirt. His lips were soft but firm as he pressed into you, kissing you with a heavy desperation that left you gasping.
Maybe it was the pain in your lip, or maybe it was the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Maybe it was the way your body seized up to prevent yourself from making the biggest fool of yourself. Whatever it was, it was enough to spur you into action. Your hands came up to center on his chest, and as his tongue ran along your lower lip, sending a violent shiver through your entire body, you shoved. Hard. He stumbled away from you, gasping as your warmth was torn from him, his hands grasping at air. His eyes flashed in surprise, and you reeled back to slap him.
"How dare you," you seethed, on the verge of a sob. "How fucking dare you-"
"Y/N-"
"No, you... you are an asshole, Min Yoongi!" Despite the anger on your face, the hurt was clear in your voice. The tears bright in your eyes. "You don't get to, to just - kiss me like that! After all these years!"
Whatever drunken stupor had still been clinging to him sobered up in that instant. His heart leapt into his throat and he choked on the words he wanted to say, his tongue too thick in his mouth. All these years...? You... you couldn't mean...
He opened his mouth around the shape of your name and you moved away, toward the door. "No, no. I'm not - I am not doing this. Not now, not with you. Fuck you, Yoongi -"
His fingers wrapped around your slender wrist, stopping you for just a moment more. The sheer pain on your face at the contact paused him, and you yanked yourself free the very next moment. "No," you whispered, voice full of tears. "I don't love you, I don't."
You slipped out of the dorms just as the first light flickered on in the hallway, sleepy footsteps stumbling their way toward him. And your words echoed in his head, hollowing everything else out until he was left with just one realization, one truth.
You very much did love him. And he was so screwed.
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©reneejuliet 2021. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.
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Text
Family Meeting Pt 2
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Part 2 of Family Meeting!!!
Genre: Omegaverse, A/B/O, BNHA, Alpha Bakugo X Omega Reader
Plot: Omega Reader meets the Bakugo’s family 
Fluff, SFW, A Lot Of Cussing, Tiny Suggestive part at the end
You were in cloud nine, everything went great with your family! After your brother told your family about Katsuki protecting you, they welcomed him with open arms. Your old brother pulled you aside before you left back home that night. Telling you how proud he was of you for picking a great guy.
You had your family’s approval and, you couldn’t be happier. 
Right now, you looked over at yourself in the mirror checking on your outfit. Today you were meeting Katsuki’s family. You had on a lace short sleeve wine colored dress on, with some black heels to pull it together. You had your hair up in a classy twisted updo style with some of your hair loose to frame your face.
You suddenly felt arms wrap around your waist behind you. You smiled knowing exactly who it was. Katsuki rested his chin on your shoulder, holding you close as he stared at you through the mirror’s refection.
“You taking too long” He grumbled
You laughed lightly at his clingy nature. It was hard to imagine Bakugo being soft or, tame with anyone. Katsuki always had a aggressive attitude at the office or, in public. But you were the lucky girl to know this side of this dangerous alpha.
“I know, i’m just nervous about meeting your family. I thought it was just going to be a dinner with your parents. I didn’t expect your mom would hold a cookout with some of your family members.”
Katsuki groaned rubbing his face into your sweat gland, taking in your scent. “Trust me had i known my mother was going to pull this shit, i wouldn’t have promised to go.”
Your turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck smiling up at him. “Well no backing out now. After all promise made by a Bakugo is always kept no matter what.”
Your alpha chucked at your response, pulling back to look at you with his ruby eyes. “Damn straight” Katsuki face turned serious while looking at you. “If you feel uncomfortable at any time during the party, i’ll take you home.” 
You graced him with a loving smile while leaning up to kiss his lips, “Sounds like a plan”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ok so you knew there was going to be a few people but, you didn’t expect a crowd of people to be here. You looked around to see all of Katsuki’s close friends and, a good 20 people chatting away with each other. Everyone was gathered in the back yard of the Bakugo’s home. You smiled trying to trick your mind that everything was ok and, your skin wasn’t crawling at you to run.
“Are you fucking serious” Your heard your alpha growl out. At least you weren't the only one blind sighted.
“You’re here!” A woman with ash blonde hair and red eyes approached you with a smile on her face. She looked exactly like your alpha but, in female form! Without a doubt she was his mother.
Katsuki glared down at his mother, “Old hag what the fuck is all this?!” He growled out with bite.
Without missing a beat she, swatted your alpha on his head, “Don’t talk to your mother like that!” She growled out with a equal amount of bite. You wondered in the back of your mind if, their personality is hereditary. She then turned to you with a excited smile.
“OI! Don’t fucking hit me!” He growled out with hollowed rage. She ignored her son’s protest, focusing on you. 
“Welcome to my home, I am Bakugo,Mitsuki the mother of this loud mouth”
You smiled at her, “L/N, Y/N, it’s a pleasure to meet you” 
“I hope you don’t mind all the people. No one believed me when i told them, Katsuki had landed a girlfriend and, was actually in a serious relationship.” She laugh. 
You felt her eyes looking at you from head to toe. Her smile widened, “I have to say you certainly are a beauty that’s for sure. Anyways come on in and, enjoy the party everyone has been waiting for you two to show up.”
You took a deep breath and looked up at your alpha, who was currently sulking from his mother’s disciplinary action. “Shitty woman” He mumbled out.
You covered your mouth suppressing a laugh that wanted to come out of you. You simply hooked your arm around his, obtaining his attention. Ruby eyes meeting your E/C ones. 
“Shall we enter the battle field?” You joked after seeing most of the guests had their eyes set on you both. Katsuki’s mother wasn’t joking about you both being the main topic of this party.
Your alpha scoffed pulling you forward towards the crowd, “This is nothing close to a battle field, at least then i can blow things up.” You laughed at your alpha’s words. You already knew he would rather be fighting than dealing with ‘extras’ as he called them. 
Your eyes soften looking at him. Still the fact he was making the effort to talk to everyone and, keep his composer for you, made your heart flutter. He was the one who wanted to meet families and, here he was proving you were nothing short but, important in his life. 
After a hour or, two of meeting everyone, you were socially exhausted. You could only take so much of people doubting your beloved alpha and, his relationship with you. One of his cousin’s even joked about you being paid to be here since, there was no way anyone could handle Katsuki’s personality as he stated to everyone. You nearly lost your cool and, bit his head off. Instead you corrected him and assured him, you were indeed Katsuki’s girlfriend by choice.
You were currently resting in a lone table with empty seats while, your alpha went off to go talk to his friends. You didn’t mind in the slightest especially, when he asked you if you were ok with him leaving. Despite what people assumed about your alpha, he was actually very attentive. You watched him from afar with a soft smile setting on your lips.
You heard the chair in next to you scrap back pulling your attention to the sound. You frowned slightly seeing your alpha’s cousin occupying the seat next to you. He leaned his arm on the table propping his head up, giving you a mischievous smile. Your inner omega growled internally demanding you to tell this person to fuck off. He already insulted your alpha once today and, he was instantly on your shit list.
“Hey beautiful” He smirked at you.
It took everything inside you to not growl at him and, keep a pleasant expression. “Hello”
“Now that we are alone, let’s be honest. How much is he paying you or, are you dating him for some novelty status?”
“Excuse me” You growled out, you did not hide your venom in your tone.
“Oh did i hit a nerve” He stated with condescending tone. “Come on baby, how much is it going to cost me to get a all access pass. There is no way that second rate hero is getting all this for free.” He licked his lips, letting his scent out slightly. The smell alone was sicking to your stomach.
You had enough of this! You stood up to leave the piece of garbage but, he swiftly grabbed onto your wrist trying to pull you back. You quickly pivoted your body, slapping his face with a hard blow of your hand, making the sounds of his flesh echo loudly.
You tugged your wrist out of his hand forcefully, “Don’t ever fucking touch me! Or insult my alpha you bottom feeder!!” Rage filled you clouding your mind as your eyes narrowed in to the asshole in front of you. You didn’t even notice the attention you were gathering.
The enraged alpha looked at you with hate in his eyes, “You have some balls to hit a alpha Omega! A little bitch like you should be grateful an alpha wants to breed your sorry ass in the first place! In fact you should be begging me to breed you like the slutty omega you are!” He growled out menacingly, reaching out to grab you again. You lifted your arms to your side in battle stance ready to defend yourself.
But contact was never made because, before you knew it; the hateful alpha was crashing into the table breaking it in half from his weight and the momentum.
“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO HER!?!” Your alpha yelled out with rage. You watched as Katsuki didn’t even give him the chance to speak pounding his face mercilessly with his fists. Everyone watched as your alpha lost control.
The moment you saw blood fling in the air you threw yourself onto your alpha’s back pumping out your smoothing scent to quell the rage of your alpha. 
“Katsuki, baby, I need you to calm down please. It’s ok, i’m ok. I’m not hurt” You cooed at your alpha watching him breath raggedly. When you felt you alpha relax from your voice and touch, you proceeded to get in front of his body taking his face into your hands, watching him look at you intensively. When you noticed the alpha behind you was unconscious, you deemed it safe to embrace your alpha, rubbing your scent gland against his.
You felt his chest rumble against you. After a few moment of him breathing in your scent his breathing started to even out. He pulled back from you, looking into your eyes showing you he was now in the right state of mind. 
He stood up bringing you up with him looking over you to check for any injuries. He grabbed your wrist that was previously held by the piece of trash bringing your wrist to his nose to smell the offending scent of the other alpha. He growled from the fact that someone else’s scent was on you especially the fucker who touched you. He then rubbed his scent onto your wrist as if he was cleansing you of his touch.
He glared at you for a moment, “You should have just called for me you idiot” He stated with no ill intent in his tone. 
You smiled up at your alpha, “I may not be a hero but, that doesn’t mean i can’t defend myself from a creep.”
You noticed a hand fall on Katsuki’s shoulder. The hand belonged to a middle aged man with short brown hair with a pair of black glasses. “Son go clean yourself up inside, your mother and, i will take care of things from here.”
Katsuki glanced down you which, the man noticed giving a small chuckle. “Don’t worry she will be with me until you get back” Katsuki nodded at his father, letting go of your hand heading inside not without giving you a small kiss on your forehead causing you to blush like a man mad. Now normally you wouldn’t be embarrassed by the intimacy but, he just had to do this in front of his father!
His father gave you a knowing smile, his father extended his hand towards you. You blushed placing his hand in his. 
“I know this is a late introduction but, as you probably already guess i am Katsuki’s father. Bakugo, Masaru” He stated giving you a genuine smile.
While in the background you could faintly hear Katsuki’s mother kicking the unconscious alpha on the ground while taking to someone on the phone.
“L/N, Y/N, i’m your son’s girlfriend” 
He gave a small chuckle, “I’ve know, my wife has been excited about meeting you ever since my son started talking about you." He smiled down at you, "What do you say we have of scenery and have a little dance.”
You smiled at Katuski’s father, “I would love to” How is his father so calm and collected? Maybe he was just used to his families aggresive nature. Which did no surprise you. He lead you to the patio placing his hand on your waist and, in your hand. 
“I would have greeted you earlier but, i had to keep my wife from telling our family members your were getting married to our son already. She told me as soon as she met you, she instantly knew you were a perfect for our son. I trust my wife’s instincts they’ve never been wrong.”
You laughed as you both moved effortlessly around the patio. “I don’t think i can live up to her high expectations she has of me.” 
Katsuki’s father looked down at you with a smile, “ I think you just proved how right her expectations were with that little out burst you just showed everyone.”
You blushed furiously in embarrassment, “Ahh that’s right i did do that in front of everyone didn’t i?”
He simply chuckled while, twirling you. “If it’s any consolation, i think you were astonishing and, a perfect partner for my son.” His eyes softened with the last statement. You felt your heart warm with the approval of Katsuki’s parents.
“Oi! Old man, i would like my girlfriend back now” Your alpha’s voice echoed out by you. You both stopped moving looking over at your alpha with a smile.
“That’s alright, i have my own wife to listen to my ranting” Katsuki’s father stated. “Thank you for the dance” He smiled at you one the last time before walking back to his wife’s side.
Katsuki replaced his father’s hands with his, moving you both again into a slow dance. He pulled you closer, whispering in your ear. “Don’t be falling for my dad now” 
You gave your alpha a playful glare, “I would never steal your mom’s husband, no matter how charming he is.”
Katsuki laughed moving you both as if you had practiced the dance a million times for this party. Of course you didn’t, you didn’t even know Katsuki could dance in the first place!
“It runs in the blood” He gave you a playful smirk. “And it’s also in our nature to attract beautiful spit fire women” 
You laughed lightly at his response. “I wasn’t about to let anyone talk bad about you.”
“You know, your absolutely gorgeous when your pissed off.” You laughed swatting his chest lightly.
“Really now?” You said in a sultry tone while, letting out your scent lightly.
You felt his grip tighten around your waist. His ruby eyes darkened looking down at you. “I think it’s time we leave and, have a little party of our own at home.” 
You laughed loudly as he pulled you away with him towards the exit while, Katsuki’s mother called out to him in the background. 
HERE IS THE FINAL PART FOR FAMILY MEETINGS! THANK GOD! HOPE YOU LIKED IT! LET ME KNOW! COMMENT! LIKE! SHARE!
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outerbanx-4 · 3 years
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Dang Kooks
Prompt;; JJ and you had been friends since you could remember. While JJ being on the more “kook bad pogue good people” you tended to, while understanding where he came from, were a little more lenient. Until the day you ran into Rafe Cameron.
WARNINGS ;; Violence, angst, swearing, sexual content(no actual smut), fluuf(slight)
`this is my first time writing anything, so it will most likely be TRASH.
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The air was muggy on the cut today, pretty much clinging to your body the whole time you were walking back from John Bs chateau. You couldn't believe how hot it has been recently and were praying that it would cool off, even just for a day. The walk from the chateau to your house was a fairly quick one, passing by familiar landmarks with the dirt road underfoot. You surprised yourself a little when you decided to choose a different route home. 
Deep in thought about what you and your fellow crew were going to do later in life you had wandered a bit further away from your house then you had noticed. You were known to space out, “lost in the twilight zone” as JJ called it, from time to time especially while walking home.  Coming up to an older playground where the swings were broken and the latter to the slide was missing rungs here and there you decided to sit and think.
Without realizing almost an hour has passed, looking at your phone and the screen lighting up to tell you that it indeed was 5pm and you told your parents you'd be home by 430p to help set up for dinner, you got up and made your way towards the road and back to your house. While on your way you took note of the broken tree branches, and just the general unkempt state of the lawns you passed by. While unkempt isn't really unusual for this part of the cut, the storm that had recently brandished its way through the island seemed to only make it much worse. Sighing you kicked some rocks as you walked. 
“Now should someone as pretty as you really be walking by herself?” you heard a voice call out from behind you making you jump in surprise and go to retort about how you are indeed and big girl and can handle yourself the gravelly voice continues his words “especially with how some of you pogues act. Never know who you're going to run into” 
Rolling your eyes you turn around and groan inwardly as you see the one and only Rafe Cameron. Everybody knew him. He was the worst of the worst. With the second worse being Topper of course. Sanding there in his stupid khaki cargo shorts and expensive pink polo he eyed you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl just by standing in his presence. “What are you doing here Rafe? I thought you hated this side of the island?” the contempt and hatred flowing through your syllables easily. 
“Oh I thought what a beautiful day it was and thought to myself.. Hmmmm where can i go find some cheap pussy?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you in a suggestive manner. Looking closer in his face because even though you know rafe cameron is a horrible person you even couldn't believe he would be this horrible and nasty. Low and behold you noticed that his pupils were dilated almost to the point of his entire eye being an ominous jet black shade. 
“You’re gross Rofe Cameron, why dont you go find some stupid touron or kook to take advantage of?” you asked as you turned back around and started to walk away. By now you had managed to make it closer to your house. Breathing a slow sigh of relief you hoped you would be able to make it home without any more issues. 
Suddenly you felt a hand grab your wrist and yank you backwards, and as your body unwillingly followed the momentum of the pull and your head whipped around to see who it was that happened to be touching you you noticed; you didn't know if you noticed because you were now scared or because of something else, something e;se you had started to notice had been happening recently. You where right in front of your best friends house, and while he was generally not at home and at the chateau you hoped and prayed and sent everything you could that he was home, because it was Rafe who had grabbed you and pulled you into his chest. One of his arms securing you, unwantedly, up against his body making you let out a groan.
“Rafe seriously let me go!” you all but yelled, purposely talking louder in hopes someone would hear you. Your best friend, the neighbors, your parents, heck even your best friends horrible father! Just anyone that would come and pry this ass off of you. Instead of letting go he pulled you in tighter. Chuckling he spoke quietly into your ear “Shhhhh now baby you know you're enjoying this.” and with that he grabbed at your ass and latched his mouth onto your neck. At this point you were helplessly flailing your arms in any hopes that one of the many hits your arms did would make him release you.  At one point he let his teeth sink into your neck which caused you to let out a squeal that you couldn't contain and made him grunt in approval.
Suddenly Rafes entire body pressure was off of you and not pushing up against you and within not eve none second the muffled thudding of someone's fist flying into Rafes cheek bone was evident. Stumbling but catching your step you saw the tall silhouette of your best friend, JJ, standing in front of Rafe, his toned arm rippling with each punch he threw, you could see that blood started to pour as each time his fist drew back his knuckles where coated.
“JJ! JJ! Stop please, hes down im safe!” You cried and you ran up to him and grabbed onto his arm as he raised it. Knowing how JJ got in these you knew you had to something more as he threw another punch ripping through your mesly grasp. “J come on please stop!”
Thinking for a minute at how mad he would be if ke knew what you were about to do, hed scold and yell andbe mad but there was no one else here to hold him , to stop him. Pope went home to study, John B and Sarah were out doing god knows what and Kie’s parents where making her work all day. You had nothing else to do.
Watching as Rafe stumbled backwards stood up and he'd managed to get a good swing in and landing it right on JJs perfect peach mouth, and you saw his lip rip open an start to bleed, and his normally sparkling cerulean blue eyes seemed to be a dark and stormy grey color. His fist reached back again and about to step towards Rafe. This is when you make your move, running and standing in front of him grabbing his wrist again and yelling more worried this time.
“JJ please stop!” His eyes snapped to yours for a second, still stormy as they bore down into your eyes, they flicked back to Rafe and he tried to push forward again. You dug your feet into the ground and brought your other hand up to graze his cheek and pulled his face down again. The eclectic sparks shooting through your body surprised you a little as the radiated from each and every touchpoint that you had on his face. 
“Ya JJ listen to your girlfriend just stop” Rafe mocked your  voice as you held JJs face now in both hands as his fist started to lower slightly. The storm started to clear out of his eyes a little as he finally looked at you and slowly nodded. Stepping back he moved slowly out of your embrace and glared at Rafe. USing his voice for the first time, “Stay off the cut you damn kook, no one wants you here.” 
Turning away you both followed him, that is until all of a sudden Rafe  spoke up and said the one thing he never should have, “Yeah ok Maybank but make sure you keep your girlfriend in line, stop letting her dress like a fucking skank.”
You knew it was over and JJ just turned and smashed Rafe a hard one to the jaw and Rafe fell to the ground blood gushing from his nose as his eyes rolled back. JJ just grabbed your hand and walked you towards his house. “Y/N you ok? Did he hurt you?”
Shaking your head you relished the feeling of his rough hands in yours, he stopped in front of his house and lightly cupped your cheek and gazed into your eyes. His eyes seeming to be released of the storm, he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly to yours. Releasing your lips fro his but keeping his forehead on yours he goes “I promise i will always be here for you to protect you. I love you babe “
  Smiling and pressing your lips against his again you mumbled “i love you too JJ”
He pulled away and started leading you to your house. 
“Dang kooks.”
~~~~~~~~~
ok i know its terrible im sorry but it just fell into my head
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White Christmas
A/N: Just some Rowaelin Christmas Fluff that I made today during a lecture. I took a little inspiration from a specific scene in How I Met Your Mother... if you've seen the show its pretty obvious which one. 
“At least it’s not actual Christmas Day.” Aedion comforted. “He’ll be home before the morning and you guys can open presents together.” 
Aelin’s cousin’s attempts to comfort her are appreciated, but futile. She had been really looking forward to spending Christmas Eve with her boyfriend and doing all the couple shit that, until two years ago, had made her want to vomit. Instead, Rowan was stuck at the office because his coworker - Lorcan Salvaterre - had all but begged Rowan to cover his shift. Instead of telling him to fuck off, like she would've done, her too nice boyfriend had accepted. All Aelin’s plans for tonight were out the window and she had resolved to watch cheesy Christmas movies and wallow in her own self-pity. 
She wasn't mad at Rowan in the slightest. How could she be with how guilty he’d looked over breakfast this morning. He’d woken up early to get her a small peppermint chocolate cake from the bakery down the street and any harboured resentment had been quickly forgotten. 
“Yeah.” Aelin replied. “I’ll be fine.” 
Aedion shot her a sympathetic look as they pulled up in front of Aelin’s apartment. She got out and bid her cousin goodbye, trudging up the icy stairs carefully. One positive note about this Christmas was that it was supposed to snow tonight, meaning New York would have its first white Christmas in almost five years. 
Aelin unlocked her door and pulled off her coat, placing it on the hook. Sighing, she unloaded her groceries and put chicken noodle soup on the stove to warm up. God this was depressing. She had a boyfriend, who loved her, and yet here she was, celebrating thanksgiving in an almost identical way to how she had when she was single and lonely. 
As the soup began to boil, Aelin grabbed the remote and picked whatever hallmark Christmas movie showed up first on the screen. She was just starting another movie, her brain too mentally exhausted to actually focus, when her phone rang. 
Slowly, Aelin picked herself up off the couch dejectedly, pulling her phone to her ear. 
“Hey.” Aelin knew she sounded sad, but she couldn't bring herself to care. 
“Fireheart.” Rowan’s voice chimed through the phone and she instantly perked up, hope shooting through her chest. 
“Hi Ro, how’s work?” Aelin took her soup bowl to the sink, turning on the faucet softly. 
He ignored her question. “You have to promise not to ask any questions and just do what I say next.” He pauses, and when she doesn't answer, goes on. “Ok ace?” 
A small smile tugs are the corner of her lips and she pushes it down, trying not to get her hopes up. “Sure.” 
“Come up to the roof of our apartment.” His voice is low, like he’s purposely trying to keep it void of any emotion. 
“Um sure I'll be up in two.” Her voice carries a question, but Rowan just hangs up the phone at her response. 
Butterflies churning in her gut, Aelin throws on a puffer coat and a pair of boots. She’s wearing fuzzy plaid Christmas pyjamas and her hair is up in an incredibly messy bun. The way to the elevator feels like an eternity. She rides it up to the top alone, everyone else in their apartments eating Christmas dinner. Glancing at her phone, the time reads 9:30. It must be dark out already, as night falls early in New York during the winter. 
Aelin reaches the top floor and walks down the hallway to the roof, hands in her pocket. As she opens the heavy steel door, the first thing she notices is that its snowing. 
Not light flurries that disappear as soon as they reach the ground, but real snow. The type that has already piled up to the point where her feet are half buried in it and she can barely see five feet ahead of her. 
Maybe it’s this, the heavy snowfall, or possibly her eyes are fuzzy from the televisions, but it take someone calling her name for Aelin to really see the rest of the roof. 
Thousands of small white lights decorate the railings and hang off every possible surface available. In the middle of it all, there’s a circle of candles, their flame somehow staying alive in the snowfall. A few light roses are scattered around the circle, and although they have already been covered in a sheen of snowflakes, the red hues still look beautiful. 
Standing in the middle of it, wearing nothing but a work suit that really can't be very warm, is her boyfriend. Suddenly not very cold, she runs toward him, ready to be wrapped up in his embrace. 
However, when she reaches the edge of the circle of candles, her steps slowed by the snow, Rowan Whitethorn drops down on one knee. 
Aelin stops dead on her feet, nearly tripping with momentum. All thoughts love her head and time seems to slow. It feels, for a moment, as though everything is in slow-motion but the racing of her heart. She takes one step forward, as if in a daze.  
Rowan’s smiling widely at her, his face glowing in the pale candlelight. His silver hair is coated in flakes, and Aelin can barely tell where his hair ends and the snow begins. 
She glances down at the ring he’s holding, a stunning silver diamond that glistens in the moonlight, held in a small pillowed box. Aelin realizes then, that it’s also a full moon tonight.
“Aelin Galathynius - “ He begins. 
But she’s already jumping on him. He nearly topples over with the force of her, only narrowly avoiding sending them both into the snow. He picks her up, her face buried in his shoulder. Aelin thinks she might be crying, but her heart is beating so fast that she doesn't notice. 
Rowan sets her down and she beams up at him. “Yes yes yes. A thousand times yes.” 
He frowns, even as joy dances in his eyes. She finds out why a second later. “You didn't let me say my speech. I practiced it in front of the mirror for two days, I even told it to Fenrys.” As he says the last part his face breaks into a grin, as if he can't help but smile. 
“Well you made me get engaged in this.” Aelin gestures down at her outfit, definitely not the extravagant gown she’d always planned on. To her own shock, Aelin found she didn't care. 
“I wanted to wait for the snow.” He said softly, grabbing her hand. “I know you love it.”
Rowan slips the ring on perfectly, and just as he pulls back, Aelin captures his lips with her own. 
His lips are freezing cold, and she thinks she tastes snow on his tongue. One arm wraps around her lower back and his thumb brushes away a few flurries from her cheek. Her hands tangle in his hair as his tongue brushes hers. 
“I love you.” She says onto his lips as the blizzard rages on. 
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wizkiddx · 3 years
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This bloody door
a lil blurb of complete fluff - readerxharryholland
“THIS. BLOODY. DOOR.” You shouted at no one in particular, really hoping the door would get the message of how much of a bitch it was being, not letting the key that was crafted just for it to work, instead of relying on a shove from your left shoulder. Which of course it wouldn’t get the message - because it was a door. A plank of wood.
That didn’t matter though. After the possibly the worst day you had ever experienced everyone was in for it tonight, the shoe that had given you such bad blisters that now you were absolutely ruining them by wearing them as slippers; the door; and let's not forget the lift that wouldn’t whisk you away quick enough to hide your tears after… after the presentation from hell. The lanky selfish prick, that most people called James but you simply called the fuckwit of a boss, had literally shredded apart your project in 10 minutes - that had been months of work. He was a dick, the lift was a dick and the door to your shared flat also had many similar characteristics.
“You know it won’t like you if you shout at it” Y/f/n, your best friend and flatmate spoke calmly as she rounded the corner into the hallway - looking at you sympathetically. You weren’t one to blow your top often, she knew today must truly have not gone your way. Replying with a cold hard stare at her, it took a moment before Y/f/n offered any solution. “You wanna rant?”
“Well for one we need a new shitting door because I just almost dislocated my shoulder getting in.” You started sarkily, earning an amused scoff from Y/f/n which didn’t really help your mood. “But chronologically? Well some randomer poured half their coffee down my blouse on the tube this morning which you know was annoying because of my presentation. Then got to work,Fuckwit made a comment about me not scrubbing up well because of the coffee stain- even though he looks like a horse chewed up some hay and then just spat it on the top of his greasy head- and THEN he shat all over my fucking presentation simply because he’s an ignorant arsehole who doesn’t care about the environment EVEN THOUGH sustainability is now a big selling point and I know for a fact we’d be getting double the amount of profit if he launched my range!” Hands were flying all over the place as you raged, Y/f/n just standing opposite with a sympathetic nod.
You had this agreement with Y/f/n - sometimes people just needed to let it all out, no filter, no judgement and no crappy advice. So sometimes, if either of you needed it, the other would just stay quiet and instead just really really listen. It was one of the many reasons you completely loved your best mate.
“And you know I was sobbing and almost ran out the conference room because you know, it was absolutely mortifying. And when I felt like that there was only one person I wanted to talk to, no offence to you but, I wanted to call Harry. And I pulled out my phone to, you know to ask for a bit of sympathy from my boyfriend but instead, I was cruelly reminded of the fact he left me on read almost two days ago. And I’m not a possessive girlfriend who wants to know where he is all the time or whatever, even though I think most people probably would because you know his job means girls literally fall at his feet, but no it's not me. Still though…2 DAYS? I mean he was the one who asked me to be his girlfriend, and I get he’s busy directing on the other side of the world but all I need is a single text saying sorry I’m a bit busy at the moment.”
“Y/n” That wasn’t allowed during a rant, you weren’t allowed to interrupt the other. So naturally, you just completely ignored Y/f/n chiming in.
“And like it's even worse because you know he’s been away for ages and I kind of had a realisation a couple of days ago. Before you say anything I know I don’t know what love is right? I know that but-but I think I maybe possibly might actually love him. And that terrifies me but its the truth. I really do think I could quite possibly be in love with him. So-so now” Your voice broke a little at the point, the rage and anger dissipating into sadness - and there was no other word for it. Just this heavy thing that felt like it was weighing you down.
“Y/n I really-“
“So now I have a boyfriend who I love but is ignoring me, have probably lost my job” The voice breaking now was you gulping down an almost sob, again completely ignoring your best mate “and the door is still a dick” Y/f/n laughed a little at that, however, was too busy staring intently at you to take any real appreciation for your comedy in a time of almost-break down.
“…you’ve got nothing to say?” After what felt like minutes of silence, you prompted Y/f/n to speak - it took her opening and closing her mouth but she got there in the end.
“Sorry just a shock um… I think… I think maybe you should go sit on the sofa.”
“God fucking Einstein aren’t you? How could I forget the sofa fixes a broken heart, unemployment and a door?” You didn’t mean to be so sarcastic and cruel, and Y/f/n knew that too - she wasn’t going to take offence after how angry you are at the world.
“Y/n just shut your mouth and go into the living room” You rolled your eyes but followed her orders, marching angrily into your small and simple living room. Sure it wasn’t a luxury, but renting a two bed in London wasn’t exactly the most affordable thing - both of you had still managed to inject a nice cozy vibe into it though, with fairy lights and throw cushions and blankets.
However this evening it had a certain new piece of decor that definitely wasn’t there when you left this morning. Sitting bolt upright with a shit eating grin was a sight that was almost impossible. A curly haired, skinny but oh so safe looking man perched on the couch. Your curly haired, skinny but safe boy. It was almost impossible but at the same time, somehow, very very real.
“Hi” He uttered awkwardly, almost looking scared of your blank, confused expression. You just didn’t get it you didn’t understand and stood their frozen, hands held out slightly as if you were waiting for someone to pass you a plate or something. After a couple of seconds, Y/f/n got bored of the nothing - gently shoving you from behind, meaning you had no choice but to lurch forward, run and then almost jump on Harry, his back pushed into the back of the sofa with your momentum.
Everything just felt so much more right as you listened to his deep chuckle reverberate around his chest. From your position straddling him and arms clinging round his neck as though you were some sort of a koala, Harry finally had all of you in his grasp after months apart. That’s why he’d arranged this whole thing with Y/f/n to surprise you by coming home earlier than what he had told you- it was also why he had been leaving all your messages unanswered, he’d been on flights back and also thought it would be an even better surprise if you hadn’t spoken in a while. Now though, he just felt extremely guilty as your chest started shaking in a way he’d never seen before.
“Hey it’s okay.... just take a minute yeh?”
Because of course he had heard you shouting from the doorway, the flat was only small. He knew you’d had an incredibly shit day, also knowing that sometimes you need a cry just to let it all out. And so he let you, gently rubbing up and down your back while you sniffled into his chest. With a small nod to Harry, Y/f/n made herself scarce - more than reassured Harry had the situation under control.
It must’ve been a couple of minutes, of you just quietly crying into his chest whilst his heartbeat calmed you down. Eventually, though, you leant back but still with your arms round his neck, just enough so you could meet his eyes. “Hey” Harry whispered, as he moved one arm from around your waist to gently wipe away a singular tear drop on your cheek.
“You’re so bloody annoying” You laughed, a sort of wet and congested laugh but still with oh so soft eyes for the boy in front of.
“That's seriously how your gonna greet me? I flew halfway across the world to see you!” He quipped back, gently squeezing you hip as he spoke.
“Yeah well, you didn’t reply to me!” It was a jokey statement with a faked pout - because not to be cocky but having him infant of you like this you knew. Harry wouldn’t have flown home for someone he didn’t care about, his pupils wouldn’t be so incredibly wide and your heartbeats wouldn’t have exactly synced up - which you had noticed as you were lent against his chest.
“I was just trying to surprise you! But yeh was a bit of a dick move.”
“As long as you know it” He laughed at that and you took the opportunity to try and clamber off him somewhat - yet Harry just clamped you down with his hands again, not letting you move from your position straddled over him.
“So have I made the worlds shittest day a little less shit then?” He taunted making you roll your eyes but instead of sassing him back you just leant down and feathered your lips on his momentarily. He whined when you pulled away since your lips had barely ghosted over his; your hands now cupping his sharp jaw and cheeks. Both of you just took a moment to look at each other, for the first time in too long, trying to commit every aspect and little perfect imperfection to memory.
“So” you whispered, biting your lip, with the knowledge Harry had heard everything you’d shouted at Y/f/n when you came in and knowing Harry well enough to know he would definitely bring it up - to no doubt mock you.
“So… you think you could ‘maybe possibly might be in love with me’ is that right?” There it was, Harry was never one for beating round the bush. Moreover, that just proved you knew him like the back of your hand - it made you chuckle almost silently, shaking you had with amusement. “Well I was wondering what could make you a bit more certain of that and… and I’ve already asked Tom and all his year of carpentry experience to fix ‘that bloody door’”
“And why would you want me to be more certain?” You only asked because you knew. You knew him and you could read everything he was feeling like a book. And you liked to tease him
“Perhaps because I maybe possibly most definitely am in love with you?… what do you say huh?”
“Fix my door first., then we can talk.”
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themockingcrows · 3 years
Text
Doki Doki Grist Panic! Ch. 6
Another chapter of my Magical Boy JohnDave au! This chapter is SFW!
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/80258332
The city was, as before, beautiful. Humans wandered along the sidewalks and streets performing the activities of their daily lives in the fading purple and pink light of the sun. It reminded John of how his home used to be, how it would soon be again once he returned and revived things. Once everything was restored and fell back into the steady rhythm of living life, his people too would be wandering around like busy ants in a colony, following their own destinies freely. In a way it made him feel hesitant to disrupt the flow, seeing just how perfect and aimless everything looked. This was the kind of evening that John would have spent with Dave on his lap happily enjoying the weather, but he supposed that was not to be any longer. ...For now, at least. John was still hopeful that if he could re-capture Dave in different circumstances and get him home, release him from the bonds of this world, that he might change his mind and give the new world a chance. The chances were slim, but honestly, even if he kept him as a pet instead of a lover it would be worth something.
It was time to act, however, peaceful appearances of the evening or none. John had more chess pieces he’d been working with, more ogres, and plenty of imps at his disposal. He’d start things from here and work outwards, spreading their oil slicks and chaos as far as they could reach so the grist flowed like water for collection. Did he need every drop? No. Was he going to take every drop from this wretched world for himself? Yes, most definitely, whether Dave liked it or not.
Screams rang out at the appearance of the first ogre, its large body disrupting traffic and sending grist bouncing down the street with each strike against the ground attacking humans both in and outside of vehicles. John watched from above as the imps began to descend and wreck things, destroying everything they touched, spreading oil and corrosion wherever they bounced and ran.
It was beautiful as well, this chaos. Frenetic and absurd, the shiny baubles of grist glittering under the starlight and lamp posts, in the abandoned cars headlights as bodies lay left and right on the ground where they’d fallen victim to his creatures. Though John knew it was just a matter of time before he’d have to fight once more, standing off against those who would interfere with them. He only hoped that, when the time came, he’d be able to preserve Dave somewhat. The rest could rot, but the human was still a soft spot for him in his plans. He turned from the lovely scene to direct the imps and ogres further South, towards the heart of the city where they could cause bigger chaos as their numbers began to increase. He gestured with the hammer like a conductors baton, steering them before their free will kicked in, a game of long distance chess against an entire world.
The whoosh of air behind him was no surprise, when it happened. John turned so fast his white hair ruffled over his eyes for a moment, guarding himself with the dark wind and the side of the hammer against Dave’s new blade, white and deadly as it skidded in place. He wasn’t able to fly, not normally, so it was only through this point of contact that he was staying in the air at all.
There was that look again on his face.
Determination.
Hate.
Love.
Disgust.
Delicious… He wanted to bottle this mixed emotion, drink it like a fine wine on cold nights. Wanted to distill its essence to have and hold even after this world ended, to show that such a spark existed on it in the first place, a spark that could actually make him feel things.
“So soon?” John asked, arm ever so slightly shaking from the pressure being exerted against him. “I’d thought you’d at least give me a wider berth after last time. Or are you that excited to see me again? There’s still plenty of room on my ship for you.”
“Shut up,” Dave hissed. “You already know this isn’t personal, it’s just business. You attack my world, I put you down. Simple as that.”
“If it was as simple as that, you’d have killed me by now,” John said, grunting and adding his second hand to his hammer, forcing Dave back and downwards towards the ground once more. His cape fluttered as he went down, face defiant as ever, to go and dispatch some of his ever increasing number of minions. It would be a fruitless venture this time, their numbers had increased dramatically from before and Dave was but one man vaulting between them like a red blur. John watched with interest as the white haired figure bounced and bobbed, weaved and feinted and struck left and right one after another. The red gears turned in the air like electricity, disappearing and reappearing along with him as he slowed time as required. The violence was hypnotic, lovely. It brought to mind the figure he’d gotten to glimpse while dressing him before, lithe and athletic. Every curve of that body was tense in battle, every muscle working in tandem to further his goals.
Goals John needed to put a stop to, now, before he started making actual headway against his minions. Time to smash a magical boy in the head with a hammer till he behaved.
Dropping down on the curve of the wind, John made a beeline for Dave before smashing the ground beside him, forcing the red clad figure to jump and dodge the aftershocks. He could just as easily force the wind after him to stop this… though, then again, Dave could stop time as well. They would be at a stalemate, which seemed to be why neither of them was pulling their top cards to put an end to things outright. At least not yet. If Dave wanted cat and mouse games, however, John was pleased to oblige. His minions would take him head on, while he threaded along around him to swat and swipe and hammer at him while avoiding return slashes from that bastard of a sword he’d suddenly obtained. He knew better than to take direct hits from that thing. It felt more dangerous than his original blade with the gilt handle somehow, sleeker and more deadly, and seeing how cleanly it sliced through his imps, John felt he made a good decision in the end.
When Dave suddenly stopped catapulting himself between imps and ogres, the ground slick with iridescent topped patches of oil and scattered grist, John was surprised for a moment. One second he’d been swinging at the small pests and avoiding his attacks, the next he’d turned and gone full throttle on the offensive. The blade sang past his face, cutting the air cleanly and taking a few wisps of his hair with it before the breeze carried him back in a dark cloud out of his reach. It was a close call, he could almost taste the metal in the wind, could feel the way it slicked back and forth like liquid in Dave’s hand. How did he have that much skill with a new blade? Surely there was some kind of learning curve, but nothing that he could detect. Was it a blessing from who he was contracted under, perhaps…?
“You’re in my way,” John grunted, slamming the hammer down beside a car, forcing it upwards as the wheels did a hard bunny hop from the percussion against the ground. Dave jumped off the hood and took another slice at his head, not pulling his punches this time. He was really aiming to cut him, wasn’t he? Fair enough, it wasn’t as if John was playing now either.
“Why did you even come back?” Dave asked, aiming a backhanded slice towards his middle followed by a series of jabs to keep him at arms length when he crept too close for comfort. He wanted distance? Time to stay pressing close then, almost close enough to catch those lips again, close enough to see the sweat coming off his brow already from exertion. “I told you your plans weren’t going to work, that I’d stand in your way. Do you really think I was kidding? Or that I wasn’t going to notice?”
“Oh I knew you’d notice, I hoped you’d be so kind as to let me defeat you quickly, but I see you’re all out of favors,” John hissed, sending his breeze forward with a hard gesture from his hand. It caught Dave suddenly, forcing his cape to whip wildly behind him as he skidded to stop himself, grunting when the momentum caught him enough to slam him to the ground. Another roll, another avoided hammer blow, and Dave was soon scrambling to his feet, only to dart low and fast towards John’s to swat at his ankles. That sword had to weigh a lot, why did it seem weightless in his hands? The weight was negligent, an afterthought at best in his hands. Contracted weapons, he supposed, given that his hammer was the same way despite his beginning strength.
“Are you seriously flirting right now?” Dave asked, angry all over again. Fuck this guy!
“I’m doing whatever you think I’m doing,” John said, managing to turn just in time to block a stroke against his side with the hammer, frowning in surprise when it left a jagged scratch in the finish. So it wasn’t impermeable after all… Hm. That put a bit of a damper into things, he’d need to be careful to avoid seeing if it was breakable by other means then. More strategic than he’d been being.
“Being a pest!” Dave cried. “This is my planet, these are my people, and it’s under my contract that I’m taking you down! This ends tonight! You’re not walking away this time, John!”
So he was that serious, then. This was to be to the death.
Though grim, John couldn’t help the wicked smirk that spread on his face, the glow that took his eyes. To the death? Such a threat on his life while making that determined face? What a treat. He lifted the hammer with one hand and readied the dark breeze with his other hand, only to have a moment of confusion. One moment Dave was several paces away in the air and springing towards him, the next he was already there and a sharp pain was spreading in John’s stomach and ribs as he took the strike head on. He toppled and rolled before jumping back up, rubbing at his clothing as the pieces separated and hung from his gray toned body, dark blood welling up from where the surface of the skin had been sliced open.
Blood. Dave had actually drawn blood by using that damned time trick of his.
“That costs you dearly, doesn’t it?” John guessed, going on the defensive as Dave drove him back further yet, dancing practically while holding his hand to his side to quell the ache and stem the small bit of blood he’d managed to draw. “How does it feel to buy my life with your own blood?”
“Disgusting,” Dave admitted, stabbing downwards from a height, only to blur out of view when John blocked. Another strike, too fast to see almost, against his other side. A third followed to his back as Dave slowed, and even halted entirely, time to do as he needed to do. Every instance was costing him, but Dave didn’t exactly have the time to care. There were things he needed to do tonight aside from taking John down in order to make things right. The fact that John was a bigger pain in the ass to deal with than his minions was just another aside that he had to deal with.
“Romantic,” John corrected. “Your life costs less than mine at this rate, doesn’t it? You can stop time to kill me, but think how much you lose. And is it even fair in your eyes?” he asked, having to roll to avoid a quick strike, taking only half of it strategically that way as he whirled to raise his hammer in another block in preparation. “Killing a man when he can’t even fight back? Not very heroic.”
“You’re a monster, what wouldn’t be heroic!” Dave snapped, surging forward recklessly and getting hit for his troubles. Another hard skid on the shoulder and he was getting back up, dropping into a ready pose and sizing up his target before jumping to action again, going for John’s legs before being side attacked by two imps and having to withdraw to tangle with them first. The smaller beings grabbed at his cape, at his legs, their oil slick hands and bodies marring his pale blade as he slashed them apart.
“I was a monster the entire time I held you, will you still deny me?” John asked, rushing forward on the breeze face first to try catching Dave in his open hand. He managed to land a palm on his right forearm and grip tight before being struck by the pink toned lightning. Electricity raced up and down his spine, crazing his teeth, lifting the hair at his nape. His heart hammered and his vision blurred into two distinct points, his awareness shifting as if splitting in two. It lasted all of a second before stopping, forcing him to release Dave and look around for the source in rage. Someone was interfering. Someone who had also managed to strike Dave due to their bodily contact, arcing the electricity from point A to point B.
The source seemed to be an aggressive looking fellow in shades of pink, sleeves flapping as he leapt up to take a slice at him with a thin blade. John was guaranteed to be struck by one of them at this point, unable to guard both directions at once. Dave, despite looking a little dazed, was quick to move his legs, pressing one boot against John’s body before kicking hard as he could at his ribs to dislodge himself. The fellow in pink took his slice and was blocked by the hammer, not wanting the more lethal looking damage to take. It sucked for his ribs, John feeling a decidedly unpleasant crunch at one point, but what could he really do?
Call a storm was what he could do. He could harness the winds in this wide open space and build up enough strength to level the fucking city if he really pushed himself to do so. What would be left for the poor magical boys to save if everyone was dead and their grist was splashed about like a fallen pinatas goodies? One on one was one thing, but two on one was going to be annoying to deal with, especially as this fellow seemed to be able to do ranged attacks as well. John lifted his hammer towards the sky to start summoning winds, hair whipping around as the clouds overhead began to swirl steadily as if going down a massive drain, the air starting to gain traction.
One moment he was holding his hammer, the bright colors stark against the moonlit sky. The next John was aware of neon red lights behind his eyes, the fading after image of gears and-
“HEY, GIVE THAT BACK!” he shouted, looking around for where Dave had sprinted off to. The winds stopped swirling as he lost focus, the clouds dispersing overhead as the pull he exerted on them was broken. Dave was dropping back to the ground and sprinting at top speed towards a break in the buildings. He paused, watching John, and smirked once he knew he’d been spotted before turning and rushing out of sight with the heavy hammer in hand.
“Going somewhere?” Dirk asked, coming up for close contact and another lightning strike, hard enough and uninterrupted enough this time that John saw double all over again. His chest ached, and he could hear a distinct sound in his ears.
Ringing.
Music?
Piano… he knew the melody, but it had been years since he had a name for it.
He could feel himself being ripped in two by the electricity, fingers caught in a clawlike motion, heart distancing itself from his body, dripping in the same black substance as his imps. He could hear screams in his head, the sounds of the damned, the dying, the already dead. Or was that just him screaming? Some kind of noise was escaping his throat as he struggled under the attack, trying to hold himself together. It took immense power to straighten an arm out and force wind Dirk’s direction with the intensity of a battle axe, slicing at his limbs and body as the attack had an unobstructed route to his body.
When the electricity stopped flowing, John took his leave immediately and rushed to where he’d last seen Dave, breathless and dizzy. He took twists and turns between the buildings, around corners, over fences, following the steady thuds of boots and the distinct noise of a fluttering cape.
“YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE, HUMAN,” John shouted, voice broken. That attack had done more to him than he’d assumed at the time. Something very distinctly was wrong. He didn’t feel quite himself, felt slower, didn’t feel as solid dominion over the wind as he raced along with it. What had that fellow in pink done to him?
Around the corner ahead was the flutter of a cape, and John surged forward to snatch it, yanking Dave back and downwards towards the ground. Dave threw the hammer as he fell so it was some distance away, his sword nowhere in sight. He was unarmed now? What was he planning? Growling, rage filling his wavering heart again, John grasped Dave’s neck with one hand and pressed his hand to his chest with the other, pressing him down at both points. Dave gagged and reached up to grasp the hand at his neck, trying to pull him off, but to limited avail.
“Going to stop time again, trickster? Or are you going to have the other turn up and blast me again?” John hissed. “I should’ve knocked you out the second I saw you.”
Gritting his teeth and trying to huff air, Dave continued to wrestle with John’s arms, arching his back and kicking his feet to dislodge him from the sturdy position in which he sat.
“I-! I’ve g-hrrk. CONTRACT,” Dave got out. Curious, John released some of the pressure on his throat to give him air, frowning as he gasped it in greedily. He watched his hands, watched for hints to his motives, but what the magical boy did was unexpected. Instead of attacking, or even defending, Dave went for his own heart. Both hands on his own chest, Dave’s eyes rolled back briefly as he released the proof of his contract to the open air in a shimmer of red light.
The gear was smaller than John expected but formed of sturdy looking pure red crystal, with intricate pieces of metallic clockwork stuck inside that moved and ticked the steady beats of his life down. It shone with immense power, and just with a glance, John could tell it was worth a ridiculous amount of grist. Showing the proof of ones contract should be difficult to do, however, unless in the presence of the contractor. The hairs on John’s nape stood up as he furtively wondered if the contractor was indeed nearby, waiting, watching. Some higher being who dared not interfere in the matters of humans, ready to replace those beneath him at a moments notice should they fall.
“...What are you doing,” John said, suspicious. “What do I care about this. This is worth a lot of grist, but it’s not nearly enough for a planet. Are you suggesting I hunt the guardians of this world instead of the humans? Hah, I’d rather do both and have a surplus.”
Dave groaned miserably when John tightened his grip on his throat again.
“Maybe I should break it, though. Take the grist, put you out of both of our miseries. ...It’s a shame, Dave. You’d really love my world…”
The gear clicked louder suddenly, drowning out John’s words. He frowned as the ticking started to change pace, mimicking the heart racing in his own ears. The melody from before… Like a metronome, he could hear the music starting up in the back of his head.
“What is this-” he started, only to cry out when, for a third and final time, pink lightning overtook him from behind. Dave, his heart exposed, took the blast directly as well while forcing his contracted heart against John’s chest like a weapon, closing his eyes tight to not look at the light show that was being created.
Heat.
Burning heat, like lava in his veins. John screamed wildy and tried to draw back from Dave, clawing at his chest where the gear was touching him, trying to block the lightning. Trying to call the wind. There was no escape. He was grounded for the count, feeling his soul split in two while being seared from the front. Was this their plan, then? Kill him? He could hear the ticking growing louder in his head, the melody, and-
He was in his childhood home, playing the piano with his father. His short legs swung from the bench, just long enough to reach the pedals, but his father was the one working them right now for both of them. It was a duet of sorts, a song that he’d played many times with him, haunting and sweet in its refrain. Simple. Soothing.
“John,” his father said. “I’m so proud of you…”
The night was crisp and the wind felt like a new friend. He was thirteen and freshly contracted to guard his world, and the feeling of being able to fly was still new and exciting. He could do anything. He was Superman. He was the one who’d keep his Father safe, keep everyone safe. He dipped below the clouds cover, soft as cotton candy, and laughed as he startled some birds out of their flight path. It was time to patrol.
Like so many others, his father was dead. The world was dying, he could hear its screams on the scorched wind. War. Famine. Fire. Flood. Earthquakes. Everything was destroyed, down to the last, leaving John behind. No doubt there were other guardians somewhere, others somewhere in range who might have been able to help, but no help came. His skin had gone gray and his eyes bright, white beginning to take over the darkness in his hair. It was just a grown John in a wasteland, then grown John in his ship, plotting his trajectory for the biggest source of grist his scanners could find.
He was still a magical boy, abandoning his post for a short time to revive it.
To save everyone.
He was Superman.
John’s vision cleared, and he felt weak. Nauseated, in fact, but soothed by warmth instead of burning in hellfire any longer. There was cool air licking at his face, and moving dark strands of hair in front of his bright blue eyes. The glow was gone, as was the rage. The ticking had gone quiet in his head, and the music had gone away. The gear hovered in the air still, the mechanism stilled, but its light still shining, its grist value undisturbed. The lightning had stopped. Dave rested on the ground with his lips parted, breathing shallowly, eyes closed and arms limp out to the sides. Hovering in front of John’s chest was a swooping double symbol in pale blue crystal, shimmering like sunstruck diamond despite the low light of the alley.
His contracted heart, unhindered by oil and sludge.
“So you really are a guardian,” Dirk said curiously, stepping closer to take a look at the newly displayed symbol, heels clicking on the concrete. “...Look better with dark hair, too. That was a stupid ass idea Dave had, blasting you both to dislodge whatever crud was on your heart while he struck directly. ...But it worked,” he admitted.
Purified.
Water streaked down John’s cheeks as emotions he hadn’t been able to feel for quite some time came to the surface all at once, leaving his mind blank, awash with thoughts. What had happened? Had he really been so corrupted that it took two people to fix him? He’d just wanted to save his home…
“Dave, I-” he started, then grimaced when he realized the other guardian wasn’t responsive right then. The contracted heart was still there, even if it wasn’t ticking, so he was alive. He would recover. Maybe, John thought, he was having dreams of his own right then.
Ignoring the two symbols’ proximity, John leaned forwards to kiss Dave’s slack mouth, murmuring in apology, asking him to wake up.
The symbols touched with a soft strike of crystal on crystal, and with it came a dazzling light as they interacted. Gears appeared all around them, unmoving in midair, till the breeze whipped up and spun them back to action, forcing the pieces to move and click until the ticking picked back up. Time, though not having been stopped for anyone but Dave, was moving once again. Red eyes slowly opened in time to see John grinning at him, a normal looking John, dressed all in shades of blue. A long hood was caught in the breeze, whipping up towards the sky with a soft tinkling sound from a rounded bell at the end. Bracelets were stacked on his wrists, and beneath his folded legs, pointed yellow shoes peeked out from beneath layered dark blue pants. There was color in his cheeks, and though his eyes were still supernaturally bright, they no longer glowed.
Dave opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance.
Grist was appearing all around them, welling up as if from the ground itself, from the sky, whipping around on the unnatural breeze that funneled its way into the alleyway. It chimed as it rang out, focusing solely on their location like a broken fire hydrant spilling water into a pond.
“What’s happening?” John asked, confused.
“You’re being given a boon, it looks like,” Dirk said, stepping to the side to tap at a massive chunk with his sword’s tip.
“From who? Why?” Dave asked, just as confused.
“Earth. Hell, maybe your contractors too. You must’ve done something they approved of, or done something when your contracts interacted.”
“Look at it all,” John mused quietly as it continued to pour out from its unspecified source, wind picking the smaller pieces up to carry away towards his ship he assumed. “I’ve never seen this much grist in one place.”
“Guess you found a new way to earn grist aside from theft,” Dirk smirked. “Now that you’re not all fucked up and gray, I assume you’re gonna stop the whole tryin’ to kill people for theirs thing?”
The kiss was not discussed, though John slowly got up and helped Dave to his feet after the contracts returned to their original places, then darted up into the air to get a better look. The grist wasn’t just coming from where they’d been fighting. It was coming from the entire city, from the trees, and appeared to be separate from the distributed grist caused by the earlier destruction. A higher value. All of it was going towards his ship, collecting itself on the breeze and being stored. He drifted back down and quickly hugged Dave, spinning him around with the force.
“This is going to be more than enough!” he said excitedly. “If this keeps up, I’ll be able to get my home back! I’ll be able to get everyone back! My world will be okay!”
“When will you be leaving?”
“As soon as it’s done being collected, I guess. There’s no time to waste, I’ve been away long enough and nothing will happen until I get there and-” John rattled off, only going quiet when Dave hugged him back.
“...I’ll come back, you know,” John said softly.
“Do you promise?” Dave asked. “I only now get to see the real you and you’re leaving.”
“I promise. Someday I’ll come back to you. And this time it’ll be as a friend,” John swore, savoring the closeness while he could as the dark sky was alight with floating chunks of gemlike grist that twinkled like candies in the moonlight.
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