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secretfanficwrite · 2 years

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By Your Side

Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: Some talk about gore Request: May I request an imagine with Eddie Munson where reader girlfriend starts showing signs (Like the stuff happening to Chrissy before she died) of vecnas curse and he gets all overprotective and worried and dosent leave her side? Happy ending??

Author's Notes: My first attempt at fulfilling a request! Hope its what you were looking for :)

Your hand shook slightly as you poured the bottle of aspirin out into the palm of your hands. You headache teetering on migraine at this point. Your lack of sleep lately had been throwing you off entirely. You found yourself only have a peaceful nights sleep when you were able to sneak off to your boyfriend, Eddie's, trailer after your parents had gone to bed.

Leaning down into the sink you downed three aspirin trying to knock out the pounding in your skull. With a deep breath you made your way out of the house, trying your hardest not to make any jarring noises that could alert your parents. Hoping onto your bike, you began the 15 minute bike ride to the trailer park, clenching your teeth with each throb that assaulted your head.

Your eyebrows burrowed in confusion as you approached the trailer park. It was quiet and dark besides the flashing lights in Eddie's trailer and the one beside his. A muffled yelling could be heard making your stomach turn in worry.

Hoping off your bike quickly, the yelling got louder as you stepped up to the trailer. It was as if a fuse flipped off and all the lights in the trailer shut off and a loud screaming could be heard inside.

Rushing as fast as you could you pushed the door open staring in horror at the scene in front of you. Eddie sat by the counter screaming in pure terror towards a mangled body piled in the middle of his living room.

Your heart dropped, recognizing the blonde hair and cheer uniform. Chrissy Cunningham.

Swallowing hard, trying to fight off the headache which only got worse when you stepped in, you rushed over to Eddie's side. Grabbing his shoulders and turning him to look in your direction.

"EDDIE EDDIE okay we need to go" you frantically ordered him, trying to pull him to stand up with you.

"S-She's dead y/n......I didn't know what was happening....I didn't do anything" he pleaded trying to get you to listen to his side of the story, afraid of your reaction to scene you just walked in on.

"Eddie you can explain it later, but there is a dead girl in your living room right now. WE NEED TO GO" Your voice got more demanding as you dragged him up, begging for his cooperation.

Pulling him out the door, you patted down his vest feeling for the keys to his van before pulling them out, and unlocking the door. He whimpered softly as you helped him into the passenger's seat. Looking around quickly in hopes nobody had witnessed the scene. Your heart dropped slightly. The curtain in the adjacent trailer swaying some, but you saw no person observing you.

You swallowed hard before making your way around to the other side of the van and climbing into the driver's seat, turning the engine on and whipping out of the trailer park at high speeds.

"G-go to Rick's" His voice sounded besides me, still full of fear, but his wide eyed gaze remained glued to the floor.

"Eddie I need you to take a deep breath and explain what I just saw" Your voice became softer, trying to calm the boy down.

He took in a slow shuttery breath, trying to hold in the tears brimming at the edges of his eyelashes. "She had been trying to buy drugs and-"

"wait what?" you asked slightly taken aback staring at the boy. He turned to finally look you in the eyes.

"Sh-she been asking about buying recently because she said she was feeling like she was loosing her mind...she seemed super jumpy and paranoid like something was following her" His voice fizzled out, explaining like he was also trying to put together pieces in his mind, unsuccessfully.

There was a short moment of silence, only the hum of the van could be heard.

"What do you mean....following her...?"

"Like she was hallucinating or something and seeing things that nobody else was..." He paused "a-and I went to go look for the special K and when I came back.....she uh.....her eyes were.....they were rolled in the back of her head....and she was just standing there...like she couldn't hear me no matter how much I tried to get her to stop"

Your lips parted and you readjusted your sitting position. You stared dead ahead at the rode thinking about Eddie's words, too nervous to butt in and ask questions.

"Then she started floating and slammed into the ceiling...h-her bones started crunching and breaking...it was like something was inside of her head yanking her eyes back into her skull" His voice broke with every sentence.

You swallowed hard, pulling the van off to the side of the road and pulled the keys out of the ignition. There was a moment of silence where neither of you spoke before you cleared your throat.

"We should uh..walk the rest of the way. So the van isn't near us" He nodded softly as you climbed out of the van, coming around to meet at the front.

You reached your hand down, grabbing his as you made your way to the small house by the lake. Making your way quickly to the front door, you tried the handle, but to no avail. "Okay theres gotta be another way in" You sighed, beginning to look through each of the windows.

"y/n what about the boat house?" Eddie interrupted, motioning you to follow after him.

You stood still in your original spot, only the glow of the porch light above you as you furrowed your brows. Slowly you turned your head, staring off into the dark woods, feeling as if you were being ushered to move in.

"Y/N, are you coming?" Eddie peaked his head around the building anxiously, watching you with worried eyes.

Turning quickly to look at him, you shook your head. "yea coming.."

"Y/n? Your nose, it's bleeding" He ran over to you quickly grabbing your face between his slightly calloused hands. "come on we have to get inside" his hands dropped to yours pulling you after him.

Closing the door behind you and jamming a piece of wood up against it he let you go to sit down on the floor. He turned grabbing a old dirty cloth before holding it up to your nose and tilting your head backwards.

"Ew Eddie this cloth is disgusting" you tried to argue, but it was already pressed up against your nose and mouth. He lowered himself down next to you, wrapping an arm around you shoulder before pulling your head to rest on him. "Were gonna be okay" He tried to assure you, but it was apparent in his voice, he didn't believe himself.

********

Your head began to pound again as the flashes of red bounced behind your closed eyelids. The familiar horrifying images flashed through at a mile a minute until your was heart beat was so fast you shot up. Breathing heavily you searched around the room, landing on the long haired boy crouched by one of the windows.

"Eddie what's happening?" You whispered before he turned to you quickly, crouch running towards you and grabbing your hand.

"Someones here, we need to hide" he frantically rushed before pulling you with him into the docked boat and yanking the tarp over both of you. You could feel his heavy breathing blowing your hair slightly. The quietness was making your heartbeat pick up, and you froze.

Then it began again. That bell tolling sound you kept hearing in your dreams. Your fingers felt around for Eddie, but your hands didn't have anything to grasp on to.

"yyyy/nnnn" The slow deep voice made the hair on the back of your neck stand up on edge. You pinched your eyes close tightly. trying to keep your breathing steady under the tarp.

"yy/nn"

"y/n"

"Y/N" You gasped hard, sitting up violently fast. Your wide eyes scanned the room at the five people staring at you in horror. Eddie was right in front of you holding your shoulder so tight his knuckles were turning white and tears were beginning to form again in his eyes.

"Okay we really need to talk" Dustin announced, drawing my attention to the boy in the blue and white hat.

*******

You sat in the corner of Rick's house, head in your hands, rubbing your temples slowly, trying to reduce the aching pressure hammering at your brain. Eddie was currently searching through the house adamant about finding something to help reduce your symptoms.

Dustin, Steve, Nancy, and Max had come back one more time after explaining as much of the situation they could to you. They left you both with some groceries and a walkie talkie to reach them in case you had another episode.

From the moment they all witnessed in the boathouse, Eddie had not left your side, constantly watching you in fear that you would meet the same fate as Chrissy. You couldn't help the guilt you felt, adding onto his already existing fear. The entire town was hunting down the man you loved, convinced he killed Chrissy and was keeping you hostage.

You tried to remain as calm as you could, but ever since Dustin called over the walkie one night, explaining Max had figured out the symptoms to Vecna's curse your anxiety was on full blast. All you could do was wait and spend what could be the final days with the man you loved.

You hadn't had another episode, but it could be clear the suspense was weighing down on both of you.

You sighed heavily, wincing before heaving your tired body up from the floor. The rustling of Eddie's frantic searching had stopped.

"Eddie are you okay? Did you find any aspirin?" you called out, your voice straining some.

You received no answer in return as you made your way to the bathroom. "Eddie?" you rounded the corner looking in, but it was empty. The cabinets were flung open and the contents under the sink we emptied out onto the floor as well as a mound of pill bottles sitting in the sink.

"Eddie?" you called out once more, checking in the bedroom.

"Eddie this isn't funny you know I already don't feel good" you begged, waiting for an answer.

It was as if in that moment, a dark cloud descended over the sun. The windows became dark, reducing any light present in the small house. Your breathing began to pick up.

CHIME

The floor shook slightly in response to the deafeningly loud bell toll, sounding closer than it ever had before. Slowly spinning on your heal a tall brown grandfather clock sat at the end of the hallway.

With one small step backwards, you found yourself pressed against a wall. But your stomach dropped, the wall was much too soft.

Letting out a shaky breath you turned slowly coming face to face with the tall dark figure, his glassy white eyes peering into your own.

"It will all be over soon y/n" he grumbled out before you felt your feet begin to raise off the ground. His long, claw-like hand reached up, resting right above your forehead, but he stopped.

Hesitating for a moment you heard it. The soft ghostly melody of Eddie and your's song gracing your ears. You could hear his voice wavering with every breath he took in before he began to sing the next line.

Tears began to sting at your eyes as you stared at the figure holding you, but trying your best to remain focused on the soft, strained melody.

You had to try, for him. It was subtle at first, but you began thrashing your body around, harder and harder, trying to free yourself from Vecna's grip. Bringing your right hand up you grabbed onto his arm, pulling it as far down as you could before taking a bite out of the disgusting, gray flesh.

His arm yanked back giving you a moment to twist your body harshly, causing him to drop you.

Using what little energy you had left you hoisted yourself up, running from the figure that began to stalk after you. A small cloudy white opening could be seen a few yards straight ahead of you.

A small sob left your throat as you ran towards it.

Eddie was trying his best to hold you down, cradling your body in his arms as he cried, trying his best to keep calm as he sung.

Still running full speed, your feet began to feel heavier, slowing you down some, but you had to keep going. You had to get back to him. You heart was racing as you zeroed in on the opening, a hand stretched out getting ready to grasp onto anything you possibly could before it all went black.

Sound came back first. Eddie's soft singing accompanied by panicked voices calling out to him over the walkie talkie. His hands gripped at your shirt, holding on for dear life. The wet spots from his tears weighed your shirt down allowing you to feel the warmness on your chest.

"Eddie" you whispered softly at the same moment he noticed your body was no longer fighting him.

His head shot up, looking over your face, letting out a breathy laugh of relief before he pulled you back to him, tighter than before.

"You can never do that to me again" He pleaded.

"I can't make any promises, but I think we found our way to postpone it" you smiled softly, bringing your hand up to run through his hair.

He let out another soft laugh looking back up at you before resting his forehead against your own. His voice was optimistic, comforting you.

"Yea...I think were gonna be okay"

********

Taglist-(Message me if you are interested in being added!) @multi-fandoms-stuff

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #oneshot #stranger things oneshot #munson #stranger things 4 #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson x y/n #request #requested fic

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seoafin · 2 years

Text

exposure therapy

pairing: fushiguro toji & reader / gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru word count: ~5.0k warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms with the bottle, unresolved trauma, fushiguro toji as a teacher??, protective stsg, crack rating: T n: for additional context about the au (read on ao3)

s: in the span of three hours you learn several things about the man that (nearly!) killed you. also alcohol makes for funny misunderstandings.

You join Shoko on the grass, eyes never leaving the three figures sparring on the training grounds as you hug your knees towards your chest. Her shoulder fondly bumps into yours as she snubs out the cigarette in her fingers on the grass and raises an eyebrow.

“I thought Yaga-sensei excused you from training,” she exhales, blowing out the remnants of cigarette smoke. Her eyes flit down to your covered wound, freshly bandaged by your practiced fingers this morning.

“Just for a little while,” you reply.

Satoru and Suguru movements are fluid, their movements tightly entwined, merging together with a synchronicity that could only come from years of boundless trust and an intimate knowledge of the way the other's movements. Weaving in and out, the other taking the other’s place as soon as the other retreats, leaving the opponent no room to advance. They fight together like you’d expect; two gears perfectly slotted against each other, constantly turning.

It’s a detriment when they spar each other, but together they are almost unrivaled, and it’s breathtaking to observe.

Any normal opponent would be overwhelmed, immediately on the defense from a non stop barrage of attacks, but Fushiguro Toji is no regular opponent.

Your newest teacher fights with the prowess of a tiger and the swiftness of a cheetah, deftly dodging, blocking attacks, and receiving their punches with his own. Twin expressions of ferocity and exertion are written in Satoru and Suguru’s expressions as the two of them unrelentingly attack. Shirts have been discarded beneath the almost oppressive sun, and you can see the cuts and scrapes lining their torsos and arms. The gleam of sweat lining their bodies. Measured breaths. Narrowed gazes. Concentrated intensity in every action. The air is tense, a fuse seconds away from sparking to epic proportions.

Fushiguro-sensei hasn’t managed to escape completely unscathed. There’s a thin cut on his face, and a large bruise blooming over his ribs. You wouldn’t be surprised if it meant a few broken ribs. But you also aren't sure he's going all out.

Despite that, there’s a ruthless grin cut across his face. He’s enjoying this.

Her gaze is suspiciously blank, almost apathetic. “Then why,” Shoko finally says, gaze also locked onto the sparring scene below, “do you have your katana?”

The world is silent except for the sound of flesh striking flesh. Fushiguro-sensei's movements seem almost discordant next to your classmates’. Less strategy, more animalistic instinct; years of experience and training has honed his body to unimaginable heights. He is a dissonant note against the orchestrated symphony that is Suguru and Satoru, and it is almost jarring to see him fight with his bare hands.

After all, there had been a weapon in his hands when he nearly killed you.

You can see the exact moment Satoru is lulled into Fushiguro’s rhythm. A single missed step, the strike of a fist a split second too late, and the grin on Fushiguro’s face widens into a cutthroat smile. In a blink of an eye, Satoru is laid out flat against his back, facing the sky with a wheeze that makes even Shoko wince.

Suguru lasts four minutes before he too, joins Satoru on the floor.

Since the mock spar has reached the end, you stand, adjusting the katana on your shoulder. Shoko narrows her eyes, immediately disapproving. You resolutely stare at anything else but her.

“Tell me you aren’t.”

“I want to,” you reply earnestly, looking down towards where Fushiguro is standing triumphant, water bottle grasped in his hands. You’re not close enough to hear what he’s saying, but he’s no doubt pointing out the weaknesses in their defenses, proven by the scowl on Satoru’s face and the unusually peeved look on Suguru's. He gathers his hair back up, irritation coloring his face.

“You’re crazy." She is wholly unsympathetic. "He left you for dead. You’d be dead if Satoru and Suguru hadn’t gotten you to me in time, or do you not remember?” With that final statement, she pointedly stares at you, fingers clenching against her skirt, as if itching for another cigarette.

You sigh. “I know,” you say quietly, staring at your feet. “But this is something I want to do." You don't say anything else.

"No," she says. "You don't." You know she's only concerned about you, but you think this is something that even Shoko can't comprehend. Something you yourself can't. You are under no illusion that you'll win.

Sometimes, you wake up in a fit of terror, sweat drenched and trembling.

“I can move around just fine,” you say wryly. You’ve already been on a few missions since then. Jujutsu sorcerers are in short supply; you couldn’t be spared too much time off a demanding schedule despite what Shoko had termed a grievous injury. “It’s just a practice spar.”

“ Practice ,” she scoffs. “As if that was just practice .”

You can’t deny that. Even an outsider could have clearly seen that Satoru and Suguru had been aiming for serious bodily harm, their agenda evident. You suppose they’re still nursing bruised egos and anger at Fushiguro-sensei's new position as your teacher, as dictated by the higher ups and elders who had sought to humiliate him. A fitting punishment, they had said, threatening a death warrant at any sign of rebellion.

You have observed your newest teacher for a month already. You're still unsure if punishment means anything to the man called Fushiguro Toji.

“I’m not Satoru or Suguru,” you say firmly, despite the rush of blood to your ears threatening to topple you over. “I know my limits.”

She eyes you blankly. There's a grumble on the tip of her exhale, and she stands. “Alright, but I’m watching at a closer distance. I’m going to be there with you.”

You smile.

The sun beats down on you as the two of you make your way down the hill. Shoko seats herself on a bench off to the side, legs crossed, expression casual but eyes discerning.

“And you,” Fushiguro-sensei thrusts a thumb in Satoru’s direction, “are too impatient. You underestimate your opponents and rely too much on the expectation that you’ll end things quickly. You might be able to bullshit the average jujutsu sorcerer, but those careless mistakes add up.”

Satoru makes a face from the ground, no doubt recognizing what Fushiguro-sensei is referring to. “Yeah, yeah, Zenin -sensei.”

Fushiguro-sensei bares his teeth in a smile.

The second you step onto the level training ground, three gazes turn to you. Satoru glances the katana slung over your shoulder, and shoots upwards at the same time Suguru’s lips thin, displeasure written into the lines of his face.

“The hell?”

Suguru’s disapproval is a heavy feeling, and your stomach turns. It almost makes you hesitate.

“Well, well,” Fushiguro eyes you with an imperceptible nod, and you swallow the shaky feeling back down into the pit of your stomach. “Look who decided to finally join us.”

“Yaga-sensei excused her from lessons for the time being,” Suguru says in a pleasantly ugly voice. “The injuries she sustained were life threatening, after all.”

“My bad,” is your sensei’s nonchalant response, and Suguru glowers.

“You’re insane,” Satoru hisses, in front of you now, glasses long discarded. His eyes are exceptionally bright and you don’t think it’s the sun. “Did this geezer give you brain damage when he almost killed you? Do you need to get checked by Shoko again?”

He actually killed you , you want to say, but instead you shrug off his comment, turning to face your sensei.

“Fushiguro-sensei, I’d like to spar too if you don’t mind.”

Protests jump off two lips but you pay them no mind.

His dark gaze bears into you, and you are momentarily blinded by tunnel vision, thrown back to the deep bowels of Jujutsu Tech, the inverted spear of heaven embedded in your stomach as blood spills, rushing up past your throat, pouring out of your wound, as your vision blinking in and out. You tense, body locking in place. You squeeze the sheath of your katana so tightly your hand pales.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you." His eyes glint in anticipation. You wonder if his weapon of choice is the inverted spear of heaven.

You slide your katana off your shoulders, but Satoru’s hand comes up to the handle, stopping you from pulling it out. You frown, but he doesn’t budge, grip unyielding.

“Sato—”

Frustration contorts his features. “Do you really think you’re in any condition to be asking for a rematch?”

Not a rematch, you want to say.

“I’m fine ,” you insist, the two of you on opposite ends of your katana, pulling. The audacity of it all. You won’t win against Satoru if he’s serious, but you will make sure he knows you disagree with him to the end. Fushiguro only watches the exchange, amused.

“Let go—”

“I’m sure you want Zenin-sensei to be at his best,” Suguru interrupts, and you glance at him, confused. There’s a smile on his lips, but it's cold, and directed towards the aforementioned male instead of you. “You’ll want to get some of those ribs looked at, sensei.”

Fushiguro-sensei shoots him a nasty look, remembering. He rubs at the reddening skin. “I went easy on you both.”

Satoru’s mouth snaps open.

You weren’t expecting to fight him injured. That's not fair at all. Your resident healer is only a few feet away.

Turning you say, “Shoko’s right over—”

The bench is empty, her previous presence gone without a trace.

“...There.”

Damn it.

The steps of Jujutsu Tech overlooking the city of Tokyo offer you what you think is the best view of the city.

Another sleepless night, staring at the lights of the skyscrapers and buildings until it all blurs together into a misshapen smudge. If you’re lucky, exhaustion will overtake you, and you’ll get three hours of sleep tonight.

Footsteps sound behind you, and you rise. Shoko’s done earlier than usual. Before you could confront her earlier today, two bodies had been rushed into the infirmary, and you lost your chance. Ultimately, there’s no use. You could never really stay mad at Shoko for more than a couple of minutes.

You turn, body involuntarily flinching in a split second reaction. Your hands reach for the sheath of a katana that isn't there. You close your eyes. There is no weapon, no inverted spear of heaven, you tell yourself. Riko is still alive. Satoru and Suguru are healthy and safe. That's all that matters.

“Fushiguro…sensei.”

In the encroaching darkness of the night, he seems half man half shadow, becoming one with the silhouette of the large trees that line the entrance.

He squints at you. “It’s late. Don’t you kids ever sleep?”

You don’t answer.

In the silence he sighs, a hand raking through his hair. “Can’t sleep?”

“...Something like that.”

He’s thinking, finger tapping at his side in a way that reminds you of Satoru. “Alright,” he says. “How ‘bout a nightcap?”

You look at him blankly. “I’m too young to drink.”

“Funny that. The alcohol that Ieiri hides in the infirmary seems to have gone missing then." He nonchalantly passes you, starting down the steps into the base of the mountain. He doesn't stop, he doesn't even look at you. "Coming?"

You hesitate.

It lasts a second.

You take a single step, and then: "Wait."

He stops, glancing at you over his broad shoulders.

You take a deep, shuddering breath as you meet his gaze. It's odd seeing him below you. The memory of his blade has been engraved onto your very being. You are scarred for life. When he almost killed you, he seemed grander and taller than even Satoru.

"I won't forgive you," you say. "You almost killed Satoru and you hurt Suguru." No matter what, you'd never forgive that.

Face illuminated by the bustle of the Tokyo skylights, you think you see something akin to approval highlighted on the sharp angles of his face.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

You are in Kabukicho, observing neon lights that spell out Fancy Love Kiss. The sign is accompanied by large red lips right next it.

It's...bright.

“This is…” you tilt your head. “A hostess club?”

Fushiguro only beckons you in with a wave of his hand.

The interior is dimly lit, velvet chairs both decorating the spacious lounge and separating the area into four different areas. One area is filled as three women crowd the businessman luxuriating in the middle of the loveseat, bathing in affections of the many hostesses, a bottle of champagne in his loose hand. Empty bottles of alcohol are crowded on the glass table. The three women look up upon your arrival, faces brightening with a familiarity that can only be directed towards the man behind you.

Your sensei walks in just as a glamorous woman approaches, looking remarkably put together at two in the morning.

“Toji!” She squeals, easily throwing her arms around his neck. “It’s been a while, I was starting to think you’d moved on!”

“From you? Never,” he replies with an easy smile, hand brushing her cheek. You stare at him. The woman flushes, hands immediately flitting to adjust her curled hair.

“Good for nothing flirt,” she grumbles goodnaturedly, “Acting like I’m one of your—” catching your gaze, she straightens, a brief second of surprise and calculation crossing her face before it schools into something more controlled.

“And this is?” She looks from you to Fushiguro-sensei, and snorts. “A little young for you, don’t ya think?” She raises a delicate hand to her lips and clears her throat daintily. “It’s nice to meet you, darling.”

“Same here,” you say softly, still trying to comprehend Fushiguro’s relationship with the hostesses in the club. Customer seems the most likely answer, but the fondness in the woman's eyes is genuine.

“What kind of man do you take me for?” Fushiguro responds, looking thoroughly amused. “She’s one of my students.”

The woman lets out a decidedly undainty chortle. Instead of questioning the veracity of Fushiguro’s claim of being a teacher like you’re sure many would, she says: “Usually you’d bring your male students to a hostess club, wouldn’t you? What were you thinking? Bringing a nice looking girl to this kinda place.”

Fushiguro looks at you. Raises an eyebrow. “I’m sure she doesn’t mind, do ya?”

You wordlessly shake your head.

She studies you. “Got a boyfriend?”

You shake your head.

She beams. “There’s a host club next door, you know? I know a few of the boys and I bet they’d love to—”

“Quit it Marie,” your teacher says with a grin. “Not this one, trust me.”

She raises a perfect eyebrow. “Oh?”

The two of them share a look, and her eyebrows shoot up even higher. You watch them in silence.

“Popular girl,” she hums, eyes bright and mischievous as she looks you up and down. You’re not quite sure what she means. You’ve never been popular in your life.

“Now!” she announces, clapping her hands. “I’m assuming drinks are in order? Any reasons to celebrate?”

“Nothing in particular,” he replies, as the two of you are quickly ushered to the empty spread bar in the middle of the establishment where impressive rows of liquor and alcohol and sake are displayed by ambient lighting.

Marie slides behind the bar, grabbing several bottles of alcohol and a mixer with practiced movements. “Any requests?”

Before you can say anything, or even think about it, Fushiguro speaks up. “This one’ll take the strongest thing you’ve got.”

You shrug when Marie looks to you for confirmation. “I could go for something strong.”

“My kind of woman,” she grins, immediately getting to work mixing various alcoholic substances. A long pour of Japanese whisky. She hums a pretty tune.

“How do the two of you know each other?” You speak up, curious.

She winks at you. “Acquaintances of the trade.” The implications don’t take long to settle. You look to your side, at your sensei who only gives you a lazy smirk.

“Surprised?”

“Not really.”

He is as unbothered as you thought he’d be. “Ouch.”

Fushiguro Toji. Former Zenin. Mercenary. Gigolo. Teacher. You can’t help but think it’s an odd, almost fated progression of events that led to this exact moment.

“You’re a teacher now, aren’t you? If honest work and a steady paycheck can’t straighten you out, nothing can,” Marie says with an affectionate sigh. In the next second, a bubbling concoction is placed in front of you in a tall mug.

“Careful now,” Marie says, “Most of it’s hard liq—”

You down the drink, savoring the burn as it slides down your throat easily. Marie’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets while a low whistle escapes Fushiguro’s lips.

The drink is down to less than a quarter when you place it back down again. Weightlessness settles into your bones, lighter than air, as the humming of all the background noises play in your ears. You suck in a breath, and open your eyes.

“That’s a first,” Marie comments, eyes still wide.

“Still standing?” Fushiguro-sensei asks, a glass of orange juice in his hand.

You nod, head feeling more lucid than it has in weeks. You know that doesn’t mean anything good, but the buzzing has started, taking all your nerves and lethargy and sleepless nights with it, where it will all lie dormant until tomorrow morning. The dissociated fragments of yourself slowly meld back together for a brief respite, granting you a clarity that has the tension slipping away from your shoulders.

The entrance swings open and a couple more businessmen walk in, drunk, judging from their jerky, uncoordinated movements. “Marie!” The oldest one of the group yells, red faced, loosening his tie. “Where’s my darling?”

Marie sighs, wiping her hand with a cloth on the counter. “Well, I need to take care of the Mizono group. Buzz if the two of you need anything,” she reaches over and squeezes your hand with a charming smile. Your face warms, when her thumb runs over your hand. “My treat for an old friend.”

You watch as she greets the group, and the man who spoke up earlier swings an arm around her shoulder as she giggles and guides them to empty couches in the corner.

Your gaze swings back to Fushiguro, whose eyes are eagerly glued to the small tv on the side. Horse racing. Their colored saddles and numbers flash as they gallop towards the finish line. You observe for a few more seconds.

“Number 7,” you murmur, leaning back in your seat and making yourself comfortable. “Number 3 is going to be the runner up.”

The only indication he heard you is when he narrows his eyes at the screen. It doesn't take long. Just as you predicted, the purple saddled horse who had been slated to come fourth overwhelms Number 3 at the last second, narrowly passing the other horses and reaching the finish line.

He clicks his tongue, a sullen look settling on his face. He takes a long gulp of his orange juice. “I’ll bite. How’d you know?”

You shake your head. “In the end it’s all just a guessing game. I couldn’t really tell well from the screen but you ideally you should keep in mind the horse's condition and temperament, the weather, the state of the track...Number 7 seemed as if it was conserving its strength for a final burst towards the end. I just compared its size relative to the other horses and made a measured estimate." You shrug. Then take another sip of your drink.

He stays silent.

When he finally speaks, there’s a glint in his dark eyes, “Any interest in horse betting?”

“No thank you.”

“One day.”

Instead of replying you stare down into your nearly empty cup. There’s a silence, and you can hear raucous laughter and demands of more alcohol while the hostesses giggle and make small talk. There’s no pinprick of pain in your abdomen, no murkiness of thought clouding your head, no drowsy movements as if you’re wading through resistant tides weighing you down.

You think about dying, and what you had thought to have been your final moments. Suguru’s shaking hands, against your wound, cupping your face, his unintelligible murmurs. The frantic pulse of Satoru’s heart against your ear, right before your vision went dark.

“Why did you take the job?” You ask quietly, staring at particular brand of umeshu on the shelf.

There’s a long, heaving sigh, both expectant and unusually contemplative.

“Almost dying makes a man think. Re-evaluate his priorities.” He doesn’t look at you, but the hand connected to the arm slung across the end of the empty seat between the two of you curls into air, an action that says nothing in itself. “Lover boy almost killed me. Probably would’ve if he hadn’t been…well,” he scratches his cheek, entirely unrepentant in a way that makes you want to laugh. “Preoccupied.”

Right, you had been bleeding out on the pavement by then, gutted open like a fish, and losing consciousness.

“Lover boy?”

“The Gojo brat. And the bangs brat.”

“Both?”

“Yep. Lover boy 1, Lover boy 2.”

“Oh.” You forget that you aren’t the only one who had been on death’s doorstep that day. Satoru had revived as a new person, the perpetual cling of infinity like second skin since that day. You are only human, just as the man next to you is.

You wonder what a man like Fushiguro Toji prioritizes. “What kind of priorities?”

“I’ve got a boy.”

You blink. While you aren’t entirely sober, you don’t think you’re drunk enough that you'd mishear his words.

The man who almost killed you has a son. Logically, it makes sense. But it also doesn’t. A son? He’s a father? Of course he is. He’s a person, just like you. If Fushiguro Toji had been killed by Gojo Satoru’s hands on that fateful day, a child somewhere would have been without a father.

The thought is sobering.

A huff of laughter. “No needa look like that.”

“How old is he?” You can’t help your curiosity.

“By now? He should be what—five? Six? There’s a girl too. She’s…seven now?”

Okay, two children.

You stare at him some more, and he scowls. “It’s been a while.”

You can tell.

You remeet his gaze. “If I were your son I think I’d hate you.”

It's not just the alcohol speaking.

He throws his head back and laughs, hearty and loud. It’s a bold noise, just like his very existence. You don’t hate him. It’s not as surprising a thought as you would have thought. “Not one to pull punches, are ya?”

There’s a momentary lull. “I saw his face.” Fushiguro says, voice low. ”It made me remember something important.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t ask him to.

You stay silent, wondering if you could call Marie over to make you another drink, or pour one yourself. As if hearing your thoughts, Fushiguro reaches over the counter, down below, and pulls out a nearly full bottle of whisky. It slides your way until it lightly hits your mug.

“Knock yourself out.”

You unscrew the bottle and pour yourself a generous amount. “You don't drink?”

He lifts his empty glass of juice. “Can’t.”

“That sucks,” you say lamely. Then lift the glass up to your mouth.

“You’re tellin’ me.”

Even now, there is a complete lack of presence next to you. Around you, you can feel the limited cursed energy emanating from the few people still inside the establishment, the feather light touches of cursed energy brushing and closing against your skin. You take another swig, squeezing your eyes tight. From Fushiguro-sensei, there is a nothingness that feels as gaping as a wide cavern and empty as air. For all intents and purposes, he is a ghost, and it is as unsettling as it was when you were originally facing him, katana in your hands.

For jujutsu sorcerers as reliant on sensing cursed energy as you, it had been a futile match from the beginning. The flow of life you had been so used to sensing and predicting had gone cold, and he had taken full advantage of it.

You exhale, closing your fist around the handle of the mug. “I thought it would be fine if I died.” The alcohol is making you a bit more loose lipped than usual. “But when it came to it, I was a little…” your downcast gaze settles on the wheat colored liquid. “Sad.”

You didn’t want your idyllic days with Shoko and Suguru and Satoru to run out. You wanted to see them again, wanted to be with them more than you knew. The three of them had spoiled you rotten with their friendship. And now you’re reaping the consequences; risking dying in regret that you didn’t do more, like telling them how much you loved them. You’d never watch the sunset on the rooftop, never read the newest Yamada Amy novel, never try coaxing another one of the shrine cats into your arms.

You slump over, forehead pressed against the cool counter, relieving your face of the omnipresent flush.

“I know I’m just a single person who can’t do much in the grand scheme of things,” you mutter into the countertop. “I know that sooner than later I’ll die and it’ll probably hurt a lot and there’s nothing I can do except accept it, but still…even I have things I cherish…”

“Man,” comes Fushiguro’s voice, shaking his head, an entertained tilt to his lips that has the scar cut above it stretching wide. “You are one depressing drunk.”

You lift your head, blearily blinking your eyes. “Am I?”

“The worst I’ve seen. You’re gloomy as hell.”

You frown, straightening. “I guess. What do other people talk about when drunk?” If not the constantly looming threat of death in your line of work. You wouldn’t know. Are you drunk? Maybe you are, considering how the shelves of alcohol in front of you seem to be slowly shifting to the side.

“Normal people,” Fushiguro corrects, twirling a finger, “Talk ‘bout problems. Money problems. Life problems. Relationship woes.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Got any relationship issues?”

You stare at him, unimpressed and he shrugs. You think about Satoru’s restlessness, his hand perpetually wrapped around your wrist tugging you this way and that, usually in the direction opposite of the person next to you. Suguru’s constant hovering, indirect as Satoru’s worry is direct, accompanying you until you wonder if it had been your decision to move in the first place. Shoko’s nightly checkups—

Oh. You pat your pockets. Realize you left your phone back at the school. Oh well.

“I’m not in a relationship,” you mumble. “I’m a jujutsu sorcerer. It’ll only end badly.”

He snorts. “Lotsa things end badly whether you’re a jujutsu sorcerer or not. That’s life. 'sides there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.”

Like… that? You don’t think he’s implying…

“Satoru? Suguru?” You frown. “I don’t think…that’s…impossible. They’re my…best friends. Besides…they like…their types are…”

“Are…?”

Satoru did have that Waka Inoue wallpaper on his phone, didn’t he? You recall the two of them crowded next to each other, Satoru presenting his opened phone, and Shoko scoffing. You don’t blame them, she is really pretty… “Big breasted women…?”

Actually you’re not sure. Maybe you should ask them. You don’t think they need help, least of all your help, getting dates though. They can manage on their own just fine.

A bark of laughter escapes Fushiguro’s throat, and he’s grinning.

…Did you say that aloud?

You would ask them. Tomorrow, you resolve. How could you call yourself a friend and not know the type of person they were romantically interested in? Then you’d ask Shoko and—

You wilt, face falling. You don’t want to hear about the type of person Shoko’s interested in. You could make her happier than some faceless, nameless person she probably hasn’t even met yet! But in the end you don’t have any right to protest. Ultimately, you wanted the each of them happy with their chosen partners, taken care of, in your death.

Ugh…the thought has you wanting to curl up on the floor and die.

Your face is burning, head spinning, and you gain another thumb. You take another mouthful of the alcohol. Oh wait…

“There is someone though…”

“Oh?” He slaps his hand on the counter, leaning in. “That’s more like it.”

“He’s really…” you’re struggling with your words now. “Cute.”

“Good start,” he says approvingly.

“He has light eyes and he’s…” your hands open and curl into fists, imagining jet blakck fur and a warm, purring body. “Soft. Really soft. I want to…take him into my bed and just…” you cool your face against your palms, “Spend the day cuddling with him…”

The other day, one of the shrine cats you secretly named Yoru had nuzzled into your waiting palm, tongue flicking out to happily lap at your knuckles. You had contemplated taking him right there and then. Before you could act on any selfish desire, Yoru’s ears had pricked upwards before darting away back into the darkness.

“He used to bite me,” you muse, absentmindedly rubbing the spot right below your right index finger where Yoru’s teeth had sunk into flesh. Your fault. You had surprised the anxious cat. “But I think he’s warmed up to me now…I hope…”

“This guy,” Fushiguro starts, “Isn’t exactly a guy , is he?”

You tilt your head. “Yoru is a cat.”

Your sensei claps a hand over his face as he bows over, shoulders shaking.

When he rises, he wipes a tear from his eye. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Forget being a jujutsu sorcerer, you should be a comedian.”

You don’t understand.

He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone. The smile drops from his face.

“...”

You unsteadily lean over, and stare at the phone in his hand. “You have a lot of missed calls.” Ninety four to be exact. “Your lovers?”

He snorts, turning off the phone and tucking it back into his pocket. “Not me anymore. Gotta get ya back to the school before I’m the one with a bounty on my head.”

“I’m not done the bottle.”

“Take it with you,” he says, standing with a grunt. At the noise you look at him, eyes zeroing in on the thin cut above his cheek, and it clicks.

“Shoko didn’t heal you?”

He pulls you up. “People love holding grudges. You’re the weird one.”

You blink. Bottle in hand, you feel pleasantly buzzed. You could fall asleep like this, and you doubt the nightmares would follow.

You follow him as Marie yells a goodbye from the loveseat and blows the two of you a kiss. The businessmen are passed out on the couches, one of whose head is on her lap. You wave.

You step out into the night, blinking as the brisk air sweeps against your cheeks. Your eyes flutter close. Your sensei tells you he’s called a taxi, and the two of you wait outside a hostess club in Kabukicho as billboards and store lights flicker off for the night, as the sky lightens with anticipation for the sun.

Your eyes are still closed, fingers curled around the neck of the bottle of whisky. “What’s his name?”

There’s a silence. You open your eyes.

“Megumi.” Fushiguro’s gaze is planted somewhere far away, as if indulging in a memory. “It means blessings.”

You look straight ahead. See the first of the sun’s rays chasing the darkness away. “That’s a nice name.”

Nothing more needs to be said.

this fic is dedicated to the anon that started the entire exposure therapy au and the one that coined its name ❤️

i know toji was a horrible father but i still like to think that had the HI arc happened differently, toji would have (semi) cleaned up his act and gone back to megumi. as of this fic, toji has not gone back to megumi (yet!!!) but he will.

toji gets rip!mc addicted to betting on horses much to everyone’s dismay. in his defense, you’re actually really good at it.

geto was mentally signaling to shoko to get out while you were none the wiser.

unfortunately, the rematch eventually happens. but this time you’re actually prepared.

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #m.jjk

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spideyhexx · 3 years

Text

filthy; s. r.

pairing; steve rogers x female!reader

a/n: this is dedicated to @vineridden💕 mean/evil steve is superior

masterlist reblogs/comments/feedback is appreciated!

summary; you intentionally piss steve off, but at least you get what you want!

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: mean!steve. lots of teasing/humiliation. slapping. hair pulling. oral (female receiving). riding. crying but good crying. unprotected sex. squirting. spitting/cumplay.

word count; 2.6k

---------------------------------------------------------

You’d be lying to yourself if you said making Steve angry was an accident.

Granted, it’s pretty easy to piss him off. He wanted everything to be perfect, always. Mister “my plan is the best plan” even though the old Captain has had his fair share of mishaps.

Ever since the tension broke between you and Steve just a few weeks ago, a fiery kiss that resulted in him pounding into you against his bedroom wall, he’s been a bit more cold.

You can’t tell if he’s being rude to continue fucking with you or if he truly regrets having sex. Either way, you wanted to light his fuse. You wanted to see the deep crease in his brow and how serious his face gets.

All you did was take a turn in the dimly lit, abandoned HYDRA facility.

Albeit a left turn instead of a right, like Steve instructed you to. How were you supposed to know a group of HYDRA agents were stashed away in one of the rooms in that hallway?

Regardless, it still jeopardized the mission and cut it short, leaving the team empty handed.

To be fair, you felt a little bad. Rebelling against Steve’s orders to purposely get on his bad side was fun, but maybe you took it too far? Nobody got hurt, but also nothing was accomplished.

Usually when Steve was mad he’d shout a few angry words at someone but this time he’s completely silent.

He gives you a stern look before jumping in the passenger seat, shrugging off questions from the team.

You began to worry you did take it too far. But a light ‘ping’ sound goes off and you check your phone to see a text from the Captain himself.

Skip the debriefing. Come to my room after you wash up.

The text bubbles pop up then disappear, leaving you with those two sentences to interpret and overthink the whole way back to the compound.

You couldn’t scrub the dirt off of your body faster as you take the quickest shower of your life.

Pondering for only a moment before deciding, fuck it, you throw on your favorite lacy set, covering it with a big t shirt. As you walk down the hallway to Steve’s room, you hope to dear god he’s really as into you as you are into him.

He’s most likely still mad at you, but that’s how you got fucked in the first place. You called him a jerk and it struck him deeper than you expected. So he fucked you until the only words out of your mouth were about how perfect he was.

You knock lightly on his door and it whips open. Steve pulls you in and shuts the door with a kick.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He stands tall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. His eyes quickly look down at your bare thighs. You feel small under his stare.

“I just took the wrong turn,” you state and he scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just took the wrong turn, my ass.”

“Listen-”

“No! No, you know what?!”

Steve lets out a deep sigh before continuing,“I don’t care if it was just some wrong turn you cost us this fucking mission! Now we have to regroup and make sure we have a competent team next time, not including you.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Uh, no you’re not benching me,” you start but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head at you.

“Well I am. Because I’m allowed to, that’s what a Captain does right? Based on your actions honey, I think you deserve a time out.” he says.

The nickname falters you for a moment, stopping any words that were about to come out of your mouth. Steve notices, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles, stalking over to you and leaning closer to your face. You wonder if he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Was this a little ploy to get back in my bedroom? Hmm?”

His eyes bore into you, as though he was trying to read your mind. Your eyes lock onto his and you try to keep a straight face as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Tell me, honey.”

You say nothing and a slight smirk etches it way onto Steve’s face.

“Really? Quiet treatment? I’ll talk for you then. I think you fucked up the mission just to be here...with me...right now. Was my dick really that tempting? Such a desperate girl. Selfish, too really. Don’t give a fuck about anything because you got cockdrunk after one fuck. What a-”

You strike a quick slap across Steve’s face before he could finish and his head barely moves. He chuckles and you grip your hand that’s stinging slightly.

“Is that all you got? That’s your slap?”

Steve moves away from you to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter. You did slap him as hard as you could.

“It really is. You can’t fucking slap. Try it again,” he demands while still sporting his teasing smile.

You lay your hand on his cheek lightly before pulling away and slapping him as hard as you could. It is definitely a little harsher than the last, but Steve still laughs.

“That was a little better, but still shit. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Steve cups your face in both of his hands, his thumbs drumming against your cheekbones. You nod at him eagerly.

“Ah, ah, you know I want to hear you say it, honey,” Steve teases, then leans his lips down to your ear, “tell your Captain you want him to slap you.”

You feel yourself melt into his touch already and you take a very quick moment to thank the heavens for already how good it feels to be like this with Steve.

“Captain, I want you to slap me.”

Steve moves one of his hands down your body to grip your waist. The other one rubs your cheek affectionately one more time before he draws his hand back and strikes it across your face. You whimper and his hand is back on your face, soothing the burning skin.

“You see? That’s how you hit someone.”

His hand drifts down to lightly grasp your neck. You jut your bottom lip out at him and he smiles.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting it.

Your breaths are heavy and before you could respond, Steve’s pressing his lips to yours. He grips your hips with both of his hands, shoving you as close to his body as possible.

You rake your nails through his hair and he bites your lip again, making you moan.

Steve pulls away breathless, “look at you, already moaning? Seriously? Fuck, you’re going to be so noisy once I get my cock in here.”

He cups your core and moans when he feels your lace underwear.

“Look who’s moaning now,” you retort and Steve winds his hand into your hair, pulling harshly.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he spits out and carelessly lets go of you. Without hesitation, you get on his bed, lying on your back.

Steve rucks up the shirt you have on and tosses it over his head.

“I really didn’t think you could possibly seem more desperate, but look at this.”

Steve trails a finger down your bra strap, then above your tits.

“Got yourself all pretty looking for me. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were cockdrunk.”

“Steve,” you whine out, your hands fisting the sheets a smidge tighter, even though he’s barely touching you.

“Steeeve,” he mocks your whine as he moves down the bed to settle between your legs. Roughly, he pulls them apart, placing each of your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve presses a quick kiss to your inner thigh before his lips are right above your core. His fingers trail the waistband of your underwear, then down the middle. The action already had you trying to buck your hips.

“None of that. Or do you want me to keep making fun of you?”

“Just...just get on with it, please,” you beg him and Steve chuckles.

“Filthy girl, can’t wait, huh?”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, before you hear a tearing sound. You look down to see Steve had ripped your underwear completely off.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have to-”

“Aw is the little princess sad her panties were ripped,” he mocks, faking a frown. You let out a sigh and Steve pinches your thigh.

“Steve, you have to replace them.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But it won’t matter in just a couple seconds will it? Cause my tongue will be on your cunt?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” you relent.

“That’s a good girl. Finally.”

He licks a stripe up your core, smiling devilishly at the squirm of your hips. His tongue laps at your cunt, not holding back from plunging you into pleasure.

Steve groans at how wet you are and the feeling of you soaking his mouth. He’s been thinking about stuffing his face into your pussy since he first fucked you and now that he’s doing it, he’s relentless.

He attempts to keep your hips from squirming at every lick, but eventually he gives up, just wanting to enjoy how much you like his tongue.

“This good, honey? Sure fucking looks like it is,” he growls, moving his fingers up to rub your clit in small circles as his tongue dives into your opening.

You feel like he’s trying to lick every inch of you. All your moans are strings of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and little whimpers as the sensitivity grows.

“Fuck, show me this is what you needed, princess. Cum on my face, come on.”

Your body stills as your orgasm rips through you, your toes curling as you scream out his name. You don’t miss how Steve’s moaning against your cunt as well, lapping up as much of your slick as he can.

Once your high has calmed down, Steve’s getting off the bed to rid himself of his clothes. He sits back against the headboard and practically pulls your body into his lap.

You take the opportunity to take your bra off yourself, not wanting him to rip that too.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping your jaw so you could only look right at him. As he looks into your eyes, he could tell you’re already a bit dazed.

“Are you listening?”

You nod and squirm in his lap, his hard cock presses into your thigh and with each passing second, you feel more hungry for it.

“I want you to ride my cock. Do all the fucking work.”

He releases his hold on your jaw and leans back. You look at him and Steve points his head to his dick. Holding the base, you guide yourself slowly down his length.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you take a few breaths, already feeling the pleasure building from how much he fills you.

“You gonna do anything, princess? Or is it too difficult for you? You're the girl who's cockdrunk so you better show me how true that really is.”

With his words spurring a sense of motivation within you, you steady your hands on his chest, his hands loosely resting on your thighs.

Slowly, you begin to grind down on him, whimpering at how deep he is in you. A deep groan leaves Steve’s mouth and it turns you even more. As you get into the groove of feeling his cock again, you start to bounce on him.

“My girl, fucking herself on my cock. How cute, huh?”

You moan out a ‘yes’ and he chuckles, his gaze stuck on his cock as it disappears into you. Your hips are already stuttering and it’s difficult to keep a steady pace.

“Think you could go faster than that? Poor baby couldn’t slap right and now she can’t even fuck herself right?”

“Please, Steve, just help me,” you whimper at him, clutching tightly enough at his shoulders, you’re sure you’ll leave marks.

“You sure? That means you’re giving up, honey. Admitting you can’t do this-”

“I know, fuck it. I need you to fuck me, Stevie,” plead and he’s quick to push the two of you down the bed a little so he can lay down more.

He plants his feet on the bed and holds your hips. You’ll probably both have marks from each other’s fingers.

Steve gives one experimental thrust up into you and it sends you reeling against him, dropping your head to his neck. He chuckles breathlessly before fucking his cock up into you.

“So much better, right?” He asks, kissing right under your ear.

Compared to your sporadic bounces on his dick, Steve’s pounding into you. He thrusts hard and fast and his frequent chuckling at the noises you’re making gets you closer and closer to the edge.

One whimper makes him still though and he pulls your head up to look at him.

“Look at this,” Steve coos, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear that left your eye.

“Why’re you crying, honey?”

For a moment, you think he’s genuinely concerned but the way he’s trying to hide his smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m sensitive,” you mumble and he hums.

“Your cunt’s sensitive?”

You nod at him and he begins to fuck you again, but his movements are slower, deeper.

“So what you’re telling me is...you came once from my tongue and your pussy’s already so sensitive that you’re crying? Think you could even handle cumming again?”

“Mhm, I could do it, Stevie, just so close.”

You knew you could, it’s just him that makes you extra riled up.

“Alright then, princess. You better fucking cum soon, then.”

Just as you were getting used to his slower thrusts, Steve picks up the pace again. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes it down to your cunt.

“Rub it,” he says, his lips pressing against your ear, then leaving a few sloppy kisses on your jaw. Your fingers work fast on your clit until you feel like you’re going to burst.

And you do, as Steve delivers one more thrust and you dissolve into pleasure, with him following and filling your cunt with his load. Steve pushes you off of him and laughs as he looks down at his bed.

“Made a mess, honey. You’re washing the sheets.”

He looks over to you, splayed out on his bed, breathless and still coming down from your orgasm. Steve moves back between your legs and you instinctively shut them from the oversensitivity.

“I’m just cleaning up,” he says.

Steve groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt and dips his head to lap it up into his mouth.

He moves back up to you and opens your mouth. You stick out your tongue and Steve spits his cum, mixed with yours as well, into your mouth. He closes your mouth for you and you swallow without him telling you to.

“There you go again, being a good girl.”

You watch as Steve picks up his clothes and puts them on.

“Am I really benched?”

You put on your best pout and Steve sighs.

“Yeah. Only stay out for one mission, then you can come back. That sound good, honey?”

You nod at him and he kisses you, his lips lingering against your own for a couple of moments before he’s pulling away.

“You wash the sheets or buy me new ones and I’ll buy you whatever pair of slutty panties you want.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fics #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction

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queensoybean0724 · 3 years

Text

Succession Chapter 18 (Karl Heisenberg/female reader) Resident Evil Village fanfic

Title: Succession Chapter 18

Characters: Karl Heisenberg, female reader

Rating: NC-17 for sex and language (soft sex, P in V, unprotected sex *wrap it up, kids*)

Summary: you discover a long lost relative has died and made you his sole beneficiary. While flying to collect your inheritance, you crash in a village in Romania.

Author’s Note: I do not own the characters from Resident Evil Village. This is a work of fiction. Anything remotely similar to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter 18

Heisenberg laid on his stomach with his arms pushed underneath his pillow. He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly, his face turned towards you. The crackling of the fire sounded from the hearth. The sheets sat over his body from the waist down.

He smiled at the feel of your fingertips skating along his back. You laid on your side, your head resting on your arm. A heavy blanket covered you from the waist down. You weren’t as used to the cold as Heisenberg. Your gaze took in his back, his biceps, his mussed hair falling around his face, and the peaceful expression on his features.

“Your fingers on my skin are so relaxing…” Heisenberg murmured. You smiled at his words. The man probably didn’t know much peace in a place like this. His constant work in the factory, hours and hours working on his army in order to carry out revenge on the woman who took him from his family...you wondered how much sleep he allowed himself before you came along.

“Are all of your scars from years of working in the factory?” you asked, trailing your index and middle finger down the thick scar tissue on his bicep. Heisenberg opened his eyes and looked at you. You were focused on his skin, your touches light and soft.

The question brought back memories...memories of a day that felt long ago but also seemed so recent.

“Some of them are,” he replied, “working with metal, tools, jagged scrap metal. But most of them are from something else…”

You sensed the unease of his answer and how he was careful with how it was worded. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal or too difficult,” you said, your hand moving up to pull the hair away from his face.

Heisenberg’s gaze looked over your features. You smiled softly and it was like a rusted knife in his heart. Your eyes on his made him want to look elsewhere or turn his face away. He felt happy with you, happy for the first time in years...for the first time since…

“About thirty years ago, I fell in love with a girl who lived in the village. She and her family had fled from Bosnia before the conflict started in 1992. They settled here. Her father was a painter...her mother a schoolteacher. I was walking through the village and saw her gathering eggs from her family’s chickens...I fell in love with her the moment I saw her…”

You listened intently, intrigued by the way he described the girl. He looked as if it was the first time he had thought of or spoken of her in a long while.

“...I didn’t speak of her to Miranda or the others, but they started to become suspicious of my absence. We kept it a secret from her family as well. She would sneak away, come here to be with me…”

He didn’t say the words, but the silence spoke volumes. A sliver of jealousy pricked at your heart knowing that he probably fucked her in this same room as he did with you. But you pushed your feelings aside. It was naive to think that he never had a lover in all of the years he had been alive.

“...when Miranda’s experiments began to increase and she took more and more of the villagers, I begged the girl to hide here with me, but she wouldn’t leave her family. She tried to warn them, but their faith in Miranda was unwavering…”

You knew that this story wouldn’t have a happy ending. The village was now desolate and empty. Lycans ran wild. Aside from Heisenberg, Miranda, and his siblings, there wasn’t anyone left. Anxiety slowly rose in your stomach as you continued to listen.

“...Miranda took her family one by one...saved her for last. I ran to her house to bring her back here, but the place was empty. By the time I got to the ceremony site, Miranda had infected her with the Cadou…”

You released the breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your fingers held his bicep, gripping tighter and tighter as the story continued. “What did it do to her?” you asked.

“She laid there unconscious,” Heisenberg answered, “I thought she was dead. She was cold to the touch and her skin was pale...but then she opened her eyes. Those beautiful eyes of hers...there was no trace of her left. The Cadou...it turned her into a lycan. She changed so fast. Her teeth and claws cut through my clothes and into my skin. I pushed her away, but she jumped on me and continued to attack me. She swiped at my face, cut across my nose...she almost gouged my eye out. Miranda and the others simply stood back and watched. The more I tried to subdue her and press her to the ground, the more violent she became. She was gone...and I didn’t have a choice…”

Tears threatened your eyes. “You killed her…”

“Yeah. I snapped her neck...she went limp instantly. All I could do was hold her, rock her in my arms...tell her I was sorry. Miranda looked defeated, not because the girl had died, but because the Cadou failed. I looked to Miranda and she simply shook her head and walked away…”

Your heart broke for Heisenberg. “I’m so sorry, Karl,” you whispered.

Heisenberg rolled onto his side and faced you. “Moreau followed me back here and patched me up. Sowed the deep cuts and dressed my wounds. When he was done, all I did was tell him to get the fuck out...I didn’t even thank him…”

You moved closer, pressing your body to his, and softly kissed his cheek. “So that is the real reason why you didn’t want me to leave...if Miranda finds me, she’ll experiment on me, too…”

“Yes,” he replied gruffly, “I won’t put you through that. You mean too much to me…”

You looked into Heisenberg’s eyes, your lips parting slightly. “I mean something to you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lifted his hand and softly caressed your cheek, his gaze fused to yours. “Yes. Y/N...I’m falling in love with you…”

Your breath was lodged in your chest. Time seemed to stop. The cold wasn’t as intense anymore. The sentiment you felt towards him had just slipped past his lips. You smiled softly.

“Karl...I’m falling in love with you, too…”

The edges of his mouth curled into a sincere smile. His amber eyes were warm and tender. This moment must have been the first time in a long time, perhaps the first time in thirty years, that he felt love. His stubbornness and rigid manner when it came to you and keeping you in the factory were clear. He wanted to keep you safe. He wanted to right the wrong he made all those years ago.

Heisenberg’s lips pressed to yours softly. His arm wrapped around your body, his hand pressing to your back, pulling you against him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you rolled to your back, pulling him on top of you.

He moaned as he felt your legs part. His body molded to yours perfectly. You released a shaky breath as his lips trailed across your cheek and down your jaw.

Solitude was something you had become accustomed to over the years. It had become so common that you forgot just how painful loneliness felt. That pain had dulled and transformed into something familiar and regular with each passing day, month, and year. You had long forgotten that it wasn’t normal to feel that way.

Heisenberg knew solitude just as much as you.

“Karl…” you moaned, arching into his body. His lips trailed down your neck and to your breasts. His mouth worshipped your soft flesh. You felt his cock slowly harden between your legs and it made you wet.

“I need you, Y/N,” he growled between your breasts. You spread your legs wider and rolled your hips.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He reached for his dick and slowly pushed inside of you.

Heisenberg’s mouth went to your ear and he grunted softly with every thrust. Your arms held him close to your body, his skin pressed to yours. His body rocked with yours, his touches and kisses soft and intimate. Your head pushed back into the pillow, feeling his cock pulsing inside of you.

“Y/N...oh fuck...yes…” he moaned into your neck, his arms holding you tight. His hips began to thrust faster, the soft and sweet movements becoming hurried and passionate. You lifted your legs higher and circled them around his waist. His teeth nibbled at your skin and his tongue licked along the marks they left behind.

“Karl...Karl...please make me cum…” you begged, your fingers digging into his back. The bed creaked as he thrusted harder. His right hand moved to your lower back, pulling you closer, making you arch upwards into his body. Tears slid from the corners of your eyes, his mouth and hands worshipping you in ways you only dreamed of.

“I love you, Y/N…” he whispered gruffly into your ear, “...cum for me...cum for me…”

His words pulled your orgasm to the forefront. You held onto his bucking body tightly, feeling the skin of his groin rubbing back and forth along your clit. Tossing your head back, you screamed his name again and again as you came. Heisenberg was desperately barreling his length into you as you yelled for him. With a guttural growl, burying his face into your neck, he emptied his cum inside of you.

In a tangle of arms and legs, the both of you continued to slide against one another, your orgasms subsiding. You smiled as you felt Heisenberg’s full lips kiss along your shoulder and collarbone. The tickle of his beard and the soft aftershocks made you quiver underneath him. His tongue licked from your chest, up your neck, and to your waiting mouth. The kiss was soft, deep, and probing. He kissed you in a way that could only be described as heavenly.

“I won’t let her take you from me,” Heisenberg whispered against your lips, “I’ll die before that bitch lays one hand on you…”

#resident evil village #resident evil village fanfic #resident evil heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg fanfic #daddy heisenberg #heisenberg #house heisenberg #succession fanfic #succession heisenberg fanfic

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mammor0n · 3 years

Text

human | solomon x reader

based on lesson 46-12, so spoilers if you’re not up to it. if you know u know 😉 MC is gender neutral ✌

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: softcore smut, not rly explicit and it doesn’t rly start till abt 1k words in but it’s still there. also like one swear word. plus it’s nearly 2am so if there are typos etc. pls forgive me, i’ll give it a read through when i wake up to fix ‘em (probably)

____________________

You awake to a shuffling sound in the corner, and a year of living with seven demons has left you with more sense than to just ignore it. Still half asleep, you squint into the darkness and sigh an incoherent mumble.

“...oh, sorry. Did I wake you?” Solomon asks, voice barely above a whisper.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are; in a cramped motel room in a world that doesn’t really exist, undertaking a trial for your goddamn magic license, which somehow did exist, and the master to your apprenticeship waking you up as though this circumstance wasn’t the stuff of a fever dream already, or some twisted fairytale that slipped the works of Hans Christian Anderson.

“Mm… it’s fine. What’s up? Can’t sleep?” you sleepily slur.

“No… it’s weird, you know? After all that walking we did today, I should be really tired.” Although his voice is even, Solomon’s face echoes a vestige of sadness; loneliness only exacerbated as he continues. “As I watched the twins earlier, I couldn’t help thinking… they’ve always had each other. It’s just natural for them. And even though they don’t say it outright, you can tell how much they trust and rely on each other… it must be nice, you know? To have someone like that in your life. I guess even if you live for centuries on end, there are some things that can always elude you.”

Blinking away remnants of sleep, you push onto your knees and crawl a little closer to him. He sits on the edge of the bed, and you hear it creak as it dips beneath him, the motion pulling you towards him like gravity itself.

“Hey… you have me. You always will, okay? You’re not alone… you have people who care about you,” you protest, and Solomon chuckles.

“Thanks, MC… you really are nice. I’d like to have people I care about, and who care about me… especially if one of those people is you.”

You exchange a smile lit only by the dim streetlight spilling through the weathered, yellowing windows. Solomon’s eyes don’t leave you, and there’s a softness there you’re not accustomed to.

“Hmm… you know, going to sleep in an inn room and then suddenly waking up in the middle of the night is another staple RPG scenario, isn’t it? And usually at times like these, you can expect some sort of really important story event to take place. So what do you think, MC? Is that what’s about to happen here..?”

His eyes find yours, capturing you in a warm a gaze you wouldn’t dare to break; you become all too aware of the sound of your shallow breathing, and rise and fall of your chest, the lump of your thrumming heart in your throat. The air smells like dust and ash, with remnants of smoke from the fireplace curling around the ceiling as the tendrils creep into the cracks between the wood. Your eyelids are heavy, yet sleep has surely relinquished its hold on you.

Solomon is quiet as he looks at you questioningly; murky blue eyes seem to bore into your soul, and in this light, with his hair messy and wearing a loose shirt and cotton pants, you’re jarred by the reminder of his humanity. Now that the magic and jewellery and smirk has been stripped away, you’re left with warmth, sincerity, and something so purely human that you’d never seen in him before. It was something about his eyes, or maybe the bob of his Adam’s apple, the hints of five o’clock shadow carving his jaw, the slight flush blotching his cheeks. At this moment, he isn’t a powerful sorcerer to whom Asmodeus himself is beholden; he’s a person. A human. Two humans sitting together in an inn room with lights off, tangled in scratchy bedsheets as breeze rattles the windowsill overlooking the flame-lit cobbled streets outside. Like something out of a fairy tale.

You’re so lost in his eyes that you forget to speak, and a teasing smile slopes his lips, although the corners of his eyes are just a little too tight, his breath just a little uneven. He swallows, licks his lips…

“Does that look in your eyes mean I can kiss you?”

You reply by crossing the small distance left between you and kissing him. After a stuttered breath, Solomon kisses you back, leaning into you and deepening the kiss as his arms slide around your waist. Once he’s started kissing you, it seems he can’t stop; he presses kiss after kiss to your mouth, his tongue seeking yours, his hands squeezing and tugging you ever closer as you lose yourself in his warmth, the lavender and patchouli fragrance that always seems to follow him, in the eager grasping of his hands on your skin and of your fingers in his hair and of the taste of sleep and evening and to draw it all together, the smoky spark of magic in every touch of his body against yours.

“...I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Solomon confesses breathlessly between kisses. “But you know, wherever you are, Lucifer and his brothers are sure to be nearby. I thought maybe there was no hope. That I’d never get an opportunity.”

In his pause, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Well it’s just you and I tonight, right? Just us.” Your breath rustles the silken hair that isn’t snagged between your fingers, and Solomon smiles.

“Then… I take it this means I have a chance, right? A chance to… deepen our connection.” He supplements the words with a lingering kiss to your throat. “Why don’t you come just a little closer, MC..?”

You sigh, lips seeking his again as you crawl until you’re chest to chest. Slinging a leg over his waist, you climb into his lap and Solomon wastes no time in stealing your breath. His lips are hot, fast, sloppy yet calculated, and he holds you until your head is spinning and you can’t remember your own name.

“Solomon…” is the only utterance you can fathom, and then he smiles against your mouth, and you lose even that.

Wandering hands trail along your waist, beneath your shirt, and shivers ripple down your spine as Solomon suckles at your throat and twists his hands in heavenly ways that curl your toes and pry any thought from your head that doesn’t centre around Solomon, and you, and Solomon and you, two humans alone in an inn room and suddenly your clothes are gone and he’s on top of you and-

Solomon groans as he sinks into you, kissing along the column of your neck, suckling on your jaw, your chest, hands caressing every inch of soft flesh as he whispers curses in languages you’ve never heard into your skin.

You can feel the magic radiating off him as he thrusts, feel your power imbued with his, the fusing of your auras as his lips meld to your skin, over and over, hot and wet and electric and then-

“Fuck, Solomon,” you hiss, head thrown back against the feather-stuffed pillows as his moans are lost in the temple of your body while his hips bruise against yours.

“Mm… you feel so good, my perfect apprentice… my… my beautiful MC…” His words come in sharp gasps out of time with his urgent motions, and you feel him collapse against you as his hips stutter and his seed starts to drip from between your legs, hot and slick as it spills onto the bedsheets. The intrusion has the tightening in your abdomen finally erupting into the shaking of your legs, into shivers of pleasure that race up your skin and draw sharp gasps from lips that Solomon stifles with a hard kiss.

“Solomon…” you manage to breathe as he removes himself from you, lays beside you with a heaving chest and sparkling eyes mirrored in your own.

“Sleep, MC… you did so well… more work tomorrow…” he manages to sigh, his arms closing around your back and dragging you into his chest as he kisses you again, and presses a final kiss to your forehead.

Relaxing into his chest, you nod, humming as forgotten tendrils of sleep begin to slink between your thoughts and numb your tongue.

“‘Kay… night, Solomon…”

You feel him smile against your forehead, and if this is a fairytale, you hope you never reach the last page.

___________________

heyo, thanks for reading! if u enjoyed and u have a spare moment pls comment and reblog, it really makes my day!!! love u hope u have a good day/night 🥺👉👈

#obey me #solomon obey me #solomon x reader #swd obey me #solomon x mc #swd om #solomon #obey me solomon #obey me fanfic #om solomon #obey me solomon x mc #obey me solomon x reader #om #smut #obey me solomon smut #swd solomon #swd solomon x reader #swd solomon x mc #swd solomon smut

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narukoibito · 3 years

Note

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Am I Your Lockscreen?

Summary: Harry misplaces his phone.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This took absolutely forever (months!), but here it finally is. Thanks for the ridiculous prompt Anon. This is complete, unadulterated fluff. It’s ridiculous, and I just can't. Haha, I hope you enjoy!

Harry was in the middle of stifling a yawn when he heard the rumbling downstairs.

Must be Fred and George, he thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let them fall back on the cot, with a content, food coma induced sigh. He was thinking about taking a little kip when Ron stirred on the bed beside him.

“Sounds like Ginny’s home early,” Ron grumbled.

“Ginny’s home?” Harry perked up, only to cough self-consciously at the strange look Ron gave him. Right, best mate’s little sister, he reminded himself. Except she was so much more than that. As if on cue, he heard the tinkling of her laughter below.

“Oh, I guess that’s nice,” Harry said casually, leaning back into the cot and pretending to go back to napping.

After a moment, Harry sneaked a peek. Ron had returned to fiddling with his phone. Texting Hermione probably.

Good save, Potter.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached into his pocket to protectively touch his phone. Only to come back empty-handed.

His eyes popped open.

He straightened and immediately began to pat the blankets around him, his hands searching with a growing franticness.

“Mate?” Ron asked.

“Have you seen my phone?” Harry looked under his pillow and the sheets, on the verge of panic. He always, always kept his phone with him, especially —

“Er, no?” Ron sat up, confused. “Let me call you.”

Harry waited with bated breath as Ron dialed his number. He glared at the rumpled sheets pooled around him, willing them to start ringing.

Finally, there came his tell-tale ring! Only it was…

Shite. Shite, shite, shite!

It had been a moment of weakness. At her last football game, he had snapped a photo right when she’d made the winning shot. Then, like the idiot he was, couldn’t resist saving it as his lockscreen.

“Harry?” He heard Ron’s cry of surprise behind him as he moved, wrenching open the door. He bolted down the stairs, taking two, then three steps at a time, racing toward the ringing.

Just as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny. Even in the midst of his panic, he couldn’t stop the way his stomach swooped at the sight of her standing there in her football training kit, with her long hair tumbling over her shoulders, her freckled skin that glowed, her pale fingers that he longed to hold.

And then, as if in slow motion, he watched as those very fingers reached toward the dining room table.

Fuck.

“Whose phone—?”

“Argh!” Without thinking, Harry launched himself into the air.

His fingers triumphantly curled over the phone.

Sweet relief coursed through him as an invisible audience cheered him in his head. Safe! He was safe!

Only of course his foot caught on something, and Harry went tumbling headfirst onto the floor. All those years of football training meant he automatically rolled, protecting his head, even as he crashed against the cupboards.

“Harry! Are you okay?”

He blinked away the spots in his eyes to see Ginny looking down at him, her brown eyes bright with concern. She leaned in, her face tantalizingly close.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he croaked, his face flooding with color and not only because he was upside down.

And he was fine, despite the spinning room, because Ginny was here, smiling down at him. The fluttering in his chest mixed with the squeeze of relief that she wasn’t looking down at him in disgust or, worse, pity at having uncovered his secret.

“I see you haven’t lost your flair for dramatics,” she said wryly.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry said, pleased when she laughed at the reference to that ridiculous counselor from that summer camp their parents had enrolled them in as teens. Counselor Moody used to do all sorts of mad things to scare them, like popping out of the bushes. Harry and Ginny used to catch each other’s eyes and laugh about it back when she was nothing more than his best mate’s little sister.

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but wander from her face, only to flush and snap his eyes upward. She certainly wasn’t so little anymore.

“Let’s get you right-side up, and then maybe you can explain why you were pulling a Moody.”

His stomach curled into knots at her proximity as she helped him. He tried to think of something charming to say, which was hard when she was dusting him off and unintentionally sending goosebumps up his arm.

“I was testing your reflexes,” Harry blurted. “I’m still faster than you.”

“Oh, like that really counts when you suddenly shout and fling yourself at me.”

Why was it that the challenging look on Ginny’s face only made his heart skip a beat?

“Element of surprise.” He reached up to adjust his crooked glasses, something tickling in the back of his mind like he was forgetting something. Focusing was difficult with the intoxicating scent of flowers short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, for all your bluster…” With a mischievous glint in her eye, Ginny triumphantly raised his phone screen to his line of sight. “You still lose.”

Harry’s heart dropped to the floor. His eyes darted from the phone to her face and back again. He made a wild swipe for it, but Ginny was prepared.

“Whose call were you so eager to answer, hmm?” she taunted as she ducked into the family room.

“No, Ginny!” He followed her frantically, nearly knocking over a vase. “Come on, don’t—!”

“Not Cho, I hope?” She ran around the couch, strategically placing it between them. Her hand waved the phone tauntingly at him.

“No,” Harry said, slowly drawing nearer, adrenaline drumming in his ears. He frantically looked for an opening. “Cho and I aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Then it’s no problem if I check, is it?” Ginny turned the phone toward her, eyes slowing lowering — with his heart lodged in his throat, Harry lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Harry groaned at the sting from where his head had connected with the floor. Somehow, in the chaos, he had managed to be on the bottom, which was good because Ginny hadn’t felt the brunt of the fall. But as the pain began to recede, he was suddenly very much aware of the soft curves pressing into him, her legs tangled up with his. She moved, wiggling enough to make him yelp.

Oh God, was this it? The only time he would ever get this close?

How pathetic could he get?

“Harry?”

He winced and waited for her to punch him and call him a pervert or something. When it didn’t come, he dared to open a tentative eye. Ginny had lifted herself up, hovering above him, her fiery red hair a curtain around them. Unable to stop himself, he stared up at her, bewitched by her freckles up close, the growing flush on her cheeks that reminded him of a sunset.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Am I your lockscreen?”

Harry swallowed hard, his chest twisting painfully. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Her lips quirked upward. “Planned on keeping it a secret for life?”

“Worth a shot,” he said dryly, even though his pulse was racing. She was smiling — could that possibly mean…?

“Yes, well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what are you going to do about it?” Her eyes flashed.

His traitorous hand reached up, lightly brushing her hair back. As his fingers skimmed her cheeks, she released an unsteady breath that whispered against his face. Ginny, his best mate’s little sister, his brilliant friend who could kick his arse, who made him laugh until his cheeks hurt.

“Ginny,” he said, barely able to think over the hammering in his heart, trying to form the words he had been reciting endlessly ever since she and Dean split up. “Will you be my lockscreen?”

Wait. Did he just…?

Mortification surged inside him. Where was a hole to bury himself in when he needed it? He would never be able to show his face around the Weasleys again — how was he going to explain that to Ron? He’d go abroad, Scotland maybe, explore castles or woods, anywhere really, just somewhere far, far away.

A peal of laughter tore him from his runaway thoughts. Ginny gave him such a bright smile, it was hard to look at her straight on. She was leaning closer, her eyes blazing. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Fair is fair,” he said, holding her gaze for what seemed like an impossible time, the tension between them making his chest want to burst, and then suddenly they were kissing.

He had imagined this moment many times in the past few months since his feelings had all but clobbered him over the head when he and Ron bumped into Ginny and Dean snogging under the bleachers. He’d replaced Dean with himself, imagined his hands around her waist, his lips fused with hers.

But this — this was so much better than anything he could have imagined. All conscious thoughts were obliterated by a warm sunshine that effused his every nerve.

“Harry,” Ginny breathed heavily when they finally broke apart. The smile she was giving him made him smile what was surely the soppiest smile in existence. “That was…”

“Lockscreen worthy?” he asked like an idiot.

She chuckled, her body shifting against him, turning that sunshine inside him to molten heat. “Might need to double check.”

“Happy to oblige,” he said, as she leaned down and kissed him again. He ached to be closer, his hand tangling into her soft hair, and she pressed closer as if also driven by the same reckless desire. He was so lost in her, he only barely registered the distant noise that was getting closer.

“Where’d you go, Har— oh my God!” Ron’s cry pierced through Harry’s hazy brain. “Get off my sister!”

Fear spiked through Harry. He looked up at his best mate (who was hopefully still his best mate), who looked as if he had been clubbed on the head.

“He can’t get off me, I’m on him!” Ginny replied unhelpfully.

“Oh then… Get off my best mate!”

Ron grabbed her ankles and started pulling her off of Harry, but Ginny, in a fit of rebelliousness, clung onto Harry harder.

Over their bickering about “bro code” and “we don’t need your permission” and “took you both long enough, but no snogging in the family room,” Harry let his head fall back with a thunk against the floor.

Nevermind – Scotland it was.

#i wrote a thing #fluff and humor #lol wth it's fluff #i didn't know what to do with myself with all this fluff #but have a sweet macaroon #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #Harry/Ginny #Hinny #anonymous #prompt #this took forever #but i do intend to get to all the prompts #one day #hope you still enjoy it after all this time #muggle au #but that should be obvious #they have phones lol

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rafael-silva · 3 years

Text

at your fingertips: a tarlos fic

When Carlos watches a video of TK working out at the firehouse in one of his old police academy t-shirts, he plans on showing TK just how much he appreciates seeing him in his clothes and the full scale of the effect the paramedic has on him once he gets home. Plus, Carlos has a comeback of his own.

for good things happen bingo: tarlos + wearing each other’s clothes

making out, kissing, neck kissing, soft carlos reyes/tk strand, sharing clothes, mild hurt/comfort, they are so in love, cuddling

3.3k | rated M | on ao3

*****

Carlos is in the middle of doing some chores around the house on his day off when he decides to take a break and scroll through Instagram.

He heads into the kitchen, fetching a cold bottle of water and retreats into the living room, falling backwards on the couch, relishing the feeling of the soft cushions under and behind him. After opening the app, he spots a new Instastory from Marjan and touches his finger to the screen there, playing it.

Carlos is glad he hadn’t taken a sip of water yet. Because he most likely would have choked on it from what his eyes are met with.

His eyebrows travel up his forehead a little and he knows the heat climbing his face isn’t from exhaustion or from moving around the house for the past couple of hours.

No. It’s from the video she’s uploaded.

TK, Paul and Mateo seem to be in the middle of some kind of challenge, a workout challenge. Marjan is clearly amused and entertained by the three men, judging by her off-screen laugh. Carlos knows that he’d probably be just as amused too if he were actually watching the video as a whole.

Carlos isn’t really aware of anything in that video except how damn good TK looks in one of his own old police academy t-shirts.

He had noticed that that shirt had mysteriously disappeared (or not so mysteriously when TK is his boyfriend) and now Carlos knew exactly what TK, and that t-shirt, were up to. He always knew TK looked good in his clothes, and knowing how the paramedic is very much a super ambitious clothes hoarder, he always looked forward to seeing TK in his clothes. Most of those moments a surprise, and the anticipation would also excite Carlos.

And boy, was this moment right now a surprise of its own. It hadn’t even crossed his mind, the possibility of TK wearing Carlos’s clothes at the firehouse, so that video kind of short-circuited Carlos’s brain, in a good way.

There is just something about the way his t-shirt hugs TK’s body, it had shrunk a little from wash after wash over the years, making it a perfect fit for TK. It fits his body like a glove, the sweat also making the shirt cling to his chest, leaving nothing to imagination. Not only that, but TK had gone ahead and rolled the short sleeves up to his shoulders, showing off his incredibly toned biceps as he lifts and lowers the dumbbells.

The video is over way too quickly. And if Carlos touches the screen again to reply it, well, who can blame him?

The officer’s body feels alive now, heat coursing through his veins. The tiredness that was lingering before is long gone now, replaced with fire. The effect TK has on him, even through a video, never fails to completely and utterly blow Carlos’s mind.

He draws in a deep breath and wills his heart to calm down, his eyes moving to the time on his phone. TK has six more hours for his shift and then he’ll be home.

Or, better yet, six more hours and Carlos can show TK how much he appreciates seeing TK in his clothes and the full scale of the effect the younger man has on him.

And if Carlos finishes the chores and errands while simultaneously counting down the minutes and having that Instagram story playing on a loop in his head, again, who can blame him?

*****

TK is pushing the condo door open and dropping his keys into the bowl nearby a little over six hours later. Carlos turns his attention from where he’s standing in the kitchen, and seeing TK stride in and dropping his duffel near the door, is all it takes for the officer to abandon the task at hand (putting away clean dishes) and makes his way towards his boyfriend.

Seeing TK in the flesh is more than enough to ignite the sparks that have been growing in Carlos’s stomach into a fire.

TK smiles sweetly at Carlos and then Carlos is on him, holding his face in place and cutting off TK’s “hey babe” by capturing TK’s lips in a hot kiss.

TK’s response is instant, his hands immediately going to grab at the back of Carlos’s t-shirt and he returns the kiss with the same fervor and heat. The kiss quickly turns messy, full of tongue, teeth and noses clashing.

Carlos swipes his tongue over TK’s bottom lip and proceeds to take TK’s same lip between his teeth, softly biting down just the way TK likes. And TK doesn’t hold back an inch of the heavy moan that escapes him at that.

The contrast in Carlos during these moments steals TK’s breath away, how Carlos can be so excited and on edge like this and is always very gentle at the same time. It makes TK’s head swim with how much he loves and wants Carlos.

Once he releases TK’s lip, Carlos moves down onto his neck, licking and sucking every patch of skin he comes in contact with. He takes it all in, inhaling TK’s scent, TK’s taste on his lips, TK’s small movements under his hold.

TK moves his head to the side and back, giving Carlos better access and exposing more skin for him. And by the small growl Carlos lets out, TK knows the larger man appreciates it.

“Who’s the tiger now?” TK says, teasing breathlessly.

He gets a small bite and swipe of a tongue over the area in response.

TK’s hand finds its way to Carlos’s loose curls, settling on Carlos’s head there.

Carlos then returns to TK’s face, giving him another heated kiss and it’s TK’s turn to hold Carlos’s face in his palms. Carlos is radiating heat, his face flushed red and the look he’s giving TK makes the paramedic shiver.

“Hmm,” TK hums, eyes glittering with pride. “I see it worked.”

Carlos watches TK for a few moments before replying, but then he instantly sees through a few things. The way TK walked into the condo, the flashes of pride on his face now, TK knew exactly what he was doing. And, oh.

“Wait,” Carlos’s eyebrows lift slightly. “Did you orchestrate this?”

TK can’t hold back, he drops his head for a second before meeting Carlos’s gaze again, his expression playful. “I think orchestrate is too big of a word…I saw an opportunity and made the best of it. Besides, I was looking forward to seeing and hearing what it did to you. Couldn’t wait to come home to this.”

Carlos shakes his head, intrigued and the thought that TK knew how Carlos would react and waiting to come home to him, to this, turns him on even more. Carlos doesn’t waste a single second in claiming TK’s lips in another passionate kiss. TK gives as good as he gets, and in an instant, he’s turning them around and pushing Carlos back against the wall behind them.

He pulls back, latching onto Carlos’s neck and peppering it with kisses and nibbles here and there.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about that video all damn day. You’re such a tease sometimes, you know that?” Carlos speaks, his voice husky as he runs his fingers through TK’s once-neat hair.

TK pulls back enough to answer Carlos. “Maybe,” he replies with a smirk. “I had something better than that video,” he adds with a pant and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Carlos’s eyes go wide at that, starring directly into TK’s, the sheer want radiating from the officer’s brown eyes heat up TK’s face even more and makes his heat skip a beat. Carlos’s brain definitely conjures up an image of that selfie, and it increases the fire bubbling inside his stomach.

It stills makes TK a little dizzy and weak in the knees up until this day, every time he’s reminded the effect he has on Carlos, and it takes his breath away when he sees and feels how much Carlos Reyes wants him.

TK’s hands go back to Carlos’s face, cupping his cheeks and tenderly running his thumb over his cheekbones, Carlos leans into his touch and TK gives him a warm, soft smile.

“A selfie,” TK clarifies his last statement. “A sweaty selfie,” he purrs, his voice low and slow.

That’s all it takes for the little brown remaining in Carlos’s irises to completely fuse with the black now, his eyes not leaving TK’s flushed face.

“But Marjan beat me, posting that video and I knew it would also do the trick,” TK winks.

Carlos takes his own bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on his flesh while watching TK.

“Yeah, you always are a tease. A very sexy one,” he whispers before going back to showering TK’s neck with kisses.

“You love it,” TK quips back.

Carlos can’t see his face, but he knows the the smirk is widening on his boyfriend’s face, he can feel it. He’s pulling back slightly, his own face red and hot.

“You know I do,” Carlos replies, stealing TK’s breath with another kiss, but this one is more emotional. It’s like TK is his lifeline, and in more ways than one, he truly is.

TK doesn’t hold back, pouring everything he feels for Carlos into the kiss, the want, the love, the need for this man, and he deepens it, until they both become one, tangled together, not knowing where one end and the other begins. Neither of them know which of them is responsible for the moan that emits between them and neither of them care.

“I’m gonna need to see that selfie later,” Carlos heaves into the small space between them when they eventually separate. He cups TK’s face, running a thumb over TK’s kiss-swollen bottom lip.

They stop moving for a few moments, Carlos touching his forehead to TK’s and they just breathe together, breathe each other in, savouring this moment, engulfed in each other’s arms and love.

Carlos then brushes a tentative kiss to TK’s lips before pulling back and making his way to the stairs, his hand holding TK’s and pulling him along.

They hurry up the stairs and then it’s Carlos’s turn to gently push TK against the first wall they meet in their bedroom, framing TK’s body with his own. Carlos closes the distance between them, devouring TK’s lips, drinking TK in like he’s the first drop of water he has had in days.

Carlos grabs at TK’s hoodie, and they separate only long enough to remove it, followed by both of their shirts meeting somewhere on the floor. Carlos goes for TK’s belt next, whipping it off and discarding it somewhere near their shirts, the belt clattering on the floor where it lands.

TK pulls Carlos impossibly closer to him, their bare chests colliding and resting against each other. The mutual heat going off both of them in waves is almost too much to handle.

Carlos’s hands squeeze between them, finding their goal and unbuttoning TK’s jeans while TK’s go to the strings of Carlos’s sweats, pulling them loose.

“Off,” TK mumbles against Carlos’s lips.

“All in good time,” Carlos smirks in response.

TK is already so far gone he can scarcely believe it. His world has narrowed down to Carlos’s touches, his kisses, his beautiful skin and toned muscles. Narrowed down to Carlos.

The larger man pulls back, and something akin to a whine escapes TK’s lips at the loss of Carlos and his warmth. He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it, though, because he’s being pulled towards the bed by Carlos and finds himself falling backwards on the mattress.

TK takes a second to adjust himself before Carlos is crawling on top of him, a hand on either side of TK’s head as he lowers himself and claims TK’s lips once again, a knee settling between TK’s open legs.

A hungry moan is heard from TK as he returns the kiss, his arms scrambling and wrapping around Carlos’s back, pulling him closer and then softly scratching his nails down the expanse of Carlos’s skin there, with just enough pressure he knows the officer likes.

He gets an immediate response from Carlos as he breaks the kiss and buries his face in TK’s neck, breathing a moan there.

Carlos begins to moves south, focusing on TK’s chest, every inch of it. He drops kisses here and there and stops at TK’s bullet wound scar, slightly discolored and standing out against the rest of TK’s skin.

His breath hitches a little at the reminder of just how close he had gotten to loosing TK, how close they had gotten to losing all of this. Flashes of that night take over his mind; hearing the radio call about a firefighter being shot after he had left the house, wishing he could take the first u-turn and race to the hospital while praying and praying it wasn’t TK. Having his heart ripped out of his chest when he finds out his fear had come true when Paul called him. Then hours later, standing in the hospital room doorway, tears clinging to his eyes, watching TK on the hospital bed, too still, too pale. Running his fingers through TK’s hair, and that time, unlike when TK would lean into his touch, getting no response. A light shudder runs through his body.

Knowing where Carlos’s thoughts have taken him, TK reaches out a hand and places it under Carlos’s chin, guiding his face towards him.

“Come back to me, ‘Los,” TK whispers. “I’m right here, baby.”

Carlos goes easily with him, looking into TK’s eyes and there’s so much he carries in those green irises, so much love and affection, so much promise and joy, accompanied with heat and want, and it’s all there for him.

Carlos nods and dives down, a passionate kiss erupting between them and TK lets Carlos take control and the lead, knowing that’s exactly what he needs right now. To feel TK, in every way. TK runs a hand through Carlos’s curls while the other cups his face.

“You’re beautiful, Ty,” Carlos admires. “Every inch of you, all of you, it’s you and it’s beautiful beyond words.”

The love and sincerity echoing off Carlos’s tone melts TK into a puddle. His heart swells in his chest at those words, knowing they come from the bottom of Carlos’s heart. He sees and feels the love Carlos has for him every minute of every day.

And TK will do everything in his power to make Carlos feel just as loved as he feels.

“You’re quite breathtaking yourself,” TK replies, his voice filled with emotion. “In every way. And it blows my mind that you’re mine.”

Carlos nods. “I am yours, and you are mine. My mind is just as blown as yours.”

They soon become a heap of tangled limbs, last pieces of clothing taken off and discarded here and there. The flame now burns brightly and hotly between them, the sparks surging through their bodies as they become one, electrified by each other in every way, roused by each other’s everything. They give each other their all, pouring everything they’re feeling and everything they are and it’s all understood, it’s reciprocated, it’s everything they need. And it’s perfect.

*****

Later in the night, TK is lying on his side of the bed, scrolling through Instagram when a text pops up on the top of his screen. He laughs when his eyes go over the words.

Marjan: You’re welcome, lover boy. ;)

TK: How did you even…

Marjan: Intuition. Also, I saw that Carlos watched that video. Plus, you looked smug leaving the firehouse after shift. Just putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

TK: I thought it was Paul’s thing to be, well…this.

Marjan: I have my moments, too.

Marjan: And Paul had agreed with me.

TK chuckles, hearing the smirk Marjan is most definitely wearing through her texts.

He hears footsteps making their way into the bedroom and he’s about to mention the text conversation to Carlos but the words stop short on his tongue when his eyes land on his boyfriend.

Carlos is standing tall, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, and in all his glory, is wearing TK’s black Austin FD hoodie.

And by the look decorating the officer’s face, he knows exactly what it’s doing to TK. Sure, it’s not a clingy t-shirt while working out, but he knows how much TK loves hoodies. It’s a subtle comeback, and with how TK is looking at him right now and the pink color painting his cheeks, it’s working.

The text messages go forgotten as TK’s eyes roam over Carlos’s figure, admiring the way his hoodie wraps around Carlos’s chest and arms. It’s a little snug at the biceps, and that just adds to the exquisite sight in front of him.

“Touché,” TK grins approvingly.

Carlos chuckles and pushes himself off the door frame, walking over and joining TK in bed.

“I was looking for it and then I remembered it was in the dryer,” Carlos says, pulling the blankets over them.

“I’m glad you found it,” TK winks and brushes a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “You look good in my hoodie.”

He accepts the invitation of Carlos’s open arms and snuggles close, resting his head over Carlos’s chest and draping an arm over his middle.

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?” Carlos looks at TK, his arm wrapped around his shoulder.

TK lifts his head so he looks into Carlos’s eyes. “I love you.”

Carlos’s face breaks into a soft smile, the smile that is reserved for only TK. “I love you, too, baby.”

They share a tentative kiss, tender and sweet.

“Oh!” TK says when they pull apart, his eyes sparkling as he reaches for his phone.

Carlos raises an amused eyebrow at his boyfriend and his phone pings a moment later.

He reaches for it and the text preview on his lock screen has him looking at TK with a fiery gaze.

TK blushes more under Carlos’s watch as a smirk takes over his face.

“You asked and you shall receive,” TK quips.

It’s the sweaty selfie Carlos was promised earlier. It’s more defined than the video, though the video had the grace of TK moving in that t-shirt, but the selfie holds the wonder of being up-close. The video hadn’t left anything to imagination, but the selfie goes a step further, not only showing the very satisfied look TK is wearing, but also showoff the edges of his well-defined abs, his strained biceps and the glint in his eyes, speaking volumes through the photo. It’s all on display for Carlos, and for Carlos only now.

And even though TK is right here, right next to him and he can reach out and touch everything in that picture, the selfie still leaves Carlos breathless. The effect TK has on him has Carlos going a little lightheaded, a familiar sensation of want brewing in his gut.

“Oh, Ty,” Carlos whispers before capturing TK’s lips in a kiss more heated than the previous one.

TK chuckles as he returns it, all-consumed by the rush that runs through his veins with his and Carlos’s tongues brush against each other.

“You know,” Carlos pants, his tongue darting out to swipe at his lips, TK following the gesture. “I have a couple more shirts you can borrow.”

“Hm,” TK replies, drawing in his own bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

Carlos smirks, a hand cupping TK’s face and runs his thumb over his cheek.

TK chuckles, a hand traveling to the nape of Carlos’s neck and pulls him in, connecting them with another kiss.

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years

Text

Oh my heart

Summary: Lin never expected to have a soulmate, in a world where your mark appears whenever your soulmate is born she grew up completely blank. So when she’s thirty and it finally etches itself around her arm, she vows to never be with the one meant only for her.

A/N: there is an age gap so if that's not your thing, then please don’t read. This will be a two, maybe three parter and the reader is Korra’s older sister who is also a waterbender, besides that I’ve tried to keep any physical descriptions of her as vague as possible.

Word count: 4k

Lin was terrified. Something she had longed for her entire life had finally appeared but at the worst possible time, those strange words etched onto her forearm stared back at her in a taunting manner, making fun of her new attempt at happiness. You wished for me all your life, aren’t you pleased? The voice in the back of her head taunted, but she wasn’t. A moment meant to be filled with joy was one drenched in dread. Lin had finally accepted her feelings for Tenzin, despite him having had his soulmate mark since he was sixteen. Her glances grew longer, her smile seemed reserved only for him, and she finally felt happy, until now of course. Thirty, that’s how old Lin was, which meant she was thirty years older than her soulmate which seemed wrong, disgusting even, so Lin did what she thought best, she burnt it off. She blamed it on a work-related incident when asked, a pesky firebending criminal got a little to close and she paid the price. No one knew she did it to herself in the darkness of her apartment with tears on her face, a hint of regret gnawing at her heart.

Two months later, Tenzin asked Lin out on a date and despite that nagging feeling that this was so wrong, she accepted. After a few months Tenzin made her forget about the burnt skin on her forearm, the shameful secret she’d take to the grave. She felt happy, so happy, she felt loved and accepted, like maybe she had a shot at a happily ever after despite his mark and her own. Lin knew he’d choose her, knew he loved her, and had nothing to worry about, so she laid her head on his chest as they basked in the sun on Air Temple Island.

-----

“You can’t force me into wanting kids!” Lin shouted, her hands waving around as she glared at Tenzin, his usual calm demeanor seemed to crack, his voice rising as he shouted back “I’m the last air bender there is! I have to keep the line going, I have to repopulate my kind!”

“I would be a terrible mother, I hate kids and I’d have to leave my job for at least nine months, I just made Chief!” Tenzin pinched the bridge of his nose, his pale complexion turning red with frustration, he loved how dedicated she was to her job, but it seemed to be all she cared about since getting promoted.

“I think we need a break from each other, maybe a week or t-”. Her eyes widened in horror at his words, her hand's grip at her hair in frustration as she cuts him off “fine, but I am coming back in a week and we are working this out for good, I’m tired of this argument.” Without letting him say another word, she stormed out and made her way back to republic city.

As the week dragged on, Lin put her colleagues through hell. Slamming doors so hard the glass on them shattered, an even shorter fuse than normal, she even fired two of her best detectives for trying to ask her what was wrong. Her apartment seemed cold, her nights seemed never-ending and an undeniable sense of dread clawed its way into her heart like she knew he was slipping away. Maybe she could have one kid, to make him happy and keep the air benders going. If it was an earth bender then fine, she’d have another, but she wouldn’t quit her job, wouldn’t loosen up on the hours and Tenzin would understand, right? He’d just be so happy to be a father that he wouldn’t care, he’d always respected her work before, what was to stop him after a kid or two?

She caved, she decided to go back to air temple island on the fifth day, a sense of determination to fix their relationship fueled each step and she tried to dismiss any fear she had of becoming a mother as she made her way up the steps to where she’d known Tenzin would be. In her state, she didn’t notice the pitying looks the acolytes sent her way, all she cared about was finding him. When she found him in the courtyard, she thought nothing of the young woman speaking to Tenzin with a wide grin but when she put her hand on his shoulder mid-laugh, Lin paused. Tenzin noticed her then, a million emotions flashed through his eyes before his shoulders sagged and a sorrowful expression settled on his face, and somehow, she knew.

Who could blame her when she wreaked havoc on a place she once called her sanctuary, when she wished misery on him before leaving her destruction behind, her fists clenched tight as the best thing she ever had slipped through her fingers.

-----

“Korra!” a feminine voice shouted from behind Tenzin, you pushed past him and ran forward to hug the avatar in the interrogation room, murmuring something to her in a furious tone. Lin rolled her eyes as she looked over at Tenzin who said smoothly “Lin, you are looking radiant as usual.”

“Cut the garbage Tenzin” she replied in an annoyed tone “why is the avatar in republic city? I thought you were supposed to be moving down to the south pole to train her.” you, who came in with Tenzin let go of Korra and walked over to stand by him, your arms crossed over your chest.

“It was too cold for his bald head” you answered right as Tenzin opened his mouth to speak “now why is my sister in so much trou-”. Lin tuned the rest of her words out as shock slammed into her like a rock wall. No. This wasn’t meant to happen, she’d scorched off any chance with her soulmate twenty years ago, or so she thought. But this… this twenty? Yes, a twenty-year-old water tribe girl with brows furrowed, and an expectant look on her face was it. You were what sometimes kept her up at night when she was so lonely it felt like the feeling would surely eat her up as Lin imagined some faceless figure who loved Lin with all their heart, someone who would never leave her.

“Lin?” Tenzin asked, putting his hand on her shoulder which successfully pulled her out of the raging ocean that was her thoughts, no not ocean, definitely nothing water-related. Lin looked into Tenzin's eyes, completely ignoring her one chance at happiness.

“Just get her out of my sight and keep her out of trouble” she practically growled out before storming off. Her heart was racing so fast she’d thought it’d surely give up any second now, maybe she should have known that her hasty decisions from her past would one day come back to sucker punch her in the gut.

“Well that was weird” Lin heard you say behind her as she continued to rush away from you before she accidentally said something. Lin vowed then that she would never say a single word to you. It was better this way anyway, who would want her? Bitter, old, scarred Lin who was practically married to her job and hated all things romantic ever since Tenzin crushed her heart beneath his shoe.

-----

She learned that your name was y/n a few days later, she heard Korra call out to you at the gala and when Lin followed Korra’s excited figure and her eyes landed on her soulmate, the wind was successfully knocked out of her for the second time since meeting y/n. You were wearing a deep blue satin dress that went down to the floor with a blue sheer shoulder shawl that had silver snowflakes embroidered onto it. Your hair was down instead of up, and you had a small amount of makeup on, just a bit of rouge and red lipstick. Lin thought it was the perfect amount, any more and it might distract someone from your beautiful eyes, or your enchanting smile. Her heart began to pound despite her desperate attempt at keeping her emotions in check. A large part of her hated this, hated you, and what this feeling blooming in her chest meant.

When Bolin came up to you and threw an arm over your shoulder, which caused you to laugh, Lin remembered that it would never happen. She shoved her feelings down and turned away from you as her thoughts went from how beautiful you were to how you would never love her.

Later on in the evening, Tarlock calls Lin over and she sees you peek around Korra to eye her curiously, a look of intrigue settles on your features as Lin pushes down any feelings she has at the fact that you’re looking at her and it feels like her whole body is on fire under your stare. “I believe you and avatar Korra have already met” Tarlock looks over at her with that sly look of his that she’s already determined means he’s up to no good.

“Just because the city is throwing you this big to do, don’t think you’re something special. You’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve this” she says to Korra, leaning down a bit to glare at the young avatar. Your curious gaze turns to one of annoyance as you glare at Lin. “Hey! Who gave you the right to be mean to my little sister,” you step in front of Korra almost protectively, as you stare her down. Don’t speak to her, look away, don’t reply, she tells herself. Lin turns on her feet and walks off, trying to seem as if she doesn’t care about what you said. “Why does she always ignore me?” she hears you say in an exasperated tone before she loses your voice over the loud music playing nearby.

-----

When Tenzin stands next to Lin at the pro-bending arena with you by his side, she’s not surprised. It seems the universe has decided to continuously throw you in her face, dangling you teasingly despite knowing her decision regarding your bond. You're holding a bag of fire flakes as you eagerly watch your sisters match, but soon your once excited expression turns to annoyance once the game starts. The Wolf Bats tipped the referee off. Lin wants to go beat the referee up until he starts being fair, just to see you smile once more.

“C’mon! This is bullshit” you shout as the Wolf Bats gain another point. Lin can’t help but notice the way your nose scrunches up as you continue to shout at the referee or how your hair which originally was pushed behind your ears has come loose and is framing your face so beautifully. Her left hand unconsciously grazes over her armor where her burn mark is as she watches you, completely tuning the game out. As Tenzin goes to shout something alongside you, his eyes catch Lin staring at you with a look of longing, he takes a step closer to Lin causing her to tear her eyes away from you and back to the match.

“Lin....” Tenzin begins but she clears her throat and mutters out a sharp “drop it.” To which Tenzin does, for now. Later on, as the match intensifies, Lin says “I can’t believe your sweet-tempered father was reincarnated into that girl, she’s tough as nails.” Lin doesn’t see it, but you smile at her words before deciding to tune out the rest of the conversation between the two, too focused on your sister to care.

You're practically seething at the outcome of this botched game, fire flakes are flying out of the bag as you shout in anger, not noticing the figure approaching with sinister intentions. By the time you do, it's because you're in excruciating pain as something electrifies you, your vision blurs and you make out Lin dropping onto the floor. The figure who electrocuted you steps over your body, you reach out to the Airbender, trying to warn him but nothing comes out of your mouth as he falls to the floor beside you. Soon your eyes droop closed due to the pain despite trying your hardest to stay awake.

When Lin awakens her muscles feel like they're about to give out and she lets out a weak groan as she slowly goes to stand up. Her eyes land on you the second her vision is no longer a blur and her heart fills with panic as she sees an equalist take you into their arms. She stumbles forward, not fully awake, and catches the attention of your capture. You let out a pained groan, in your unconscious state, the sound tugs at her heart and she’s suddenly filled with boiling rage. The equalist is shaking as he continues to stumble backward, another appears to help him take you away and without a second thought Lin shoots out her wires and wraps them around both of their ankles, she gives them a harsh yank which causes them to fall to the ground with a loud thud, for good measure she cuffs them to the floor, warping the metal of the floor beneath them around their wrists and ankles. You land on top of your capture, your eyes begin to flutter behind your lids and you finally stir awake. Pain wraps around your muscles, in your head you think maybe it's best to just lay still, momentarily forgetting about your situation.

You let out a whimper, knocking Lin out of her frozen state as she had gazed at you. Lin rushes forward and wraps an arm around your waist as she pulls you up onto your feet, you open your eyes, blinking the blurriness out of your eyesight. Lin takes you over to the railing as Tenzin also begins to regain consciousness and she props you up against the metal railing. You stare up at her in confusion, your mind is buzzing a mile a minute, not only at the situation at hand but at how her arms felt wrapped around you. “Uhm… Thanks for that.”

“Amon probably ordered them to kidnap you to hurt Korra” she replies, not realizing what she’s just done. Your eyes widen in shock at her words but before she can even notice your shocked state an explosion sets off behind you, sheets of metal from the bending platform go flying and she wraps her arms around you, forcing you to duck down so she can shield you with her body. You pull up a wave of water to protect you from oncoming flames. The heat of the steam from the water causes you both to begin sweating before the flames from the explosion recede only seconds later. You let go of the water, suddenly the discovery of Lin’s secret doesn’t seem so important as you think of your sister. When you passed out she was in the water below, surely she’s somewhere safe, right?

As if to answer your question, Korra appears as she hurtles herself up into the air with a large twisting waterspout. As it begins to falter and then completely goes out you let out a shout filled with terror “Korra!” Lin quickly gets up and shoots her metal wire out towards the roof to send her flying across the arena towards the avatar, before Korra can hit the fiery platform below, she shoots out a second wire to her waist and with all her might yanks her up into the air.

You stand beside Tenzin with wide eyes and bated breath, suddenly the two most important women in your life, I mean Lin has been ignoring you and you’ll have to figure out why later but she is your soulmate which does make her incredibly important to you, are out of your sight and dangerously fighting above as you uselessly stand there with your water bending abilities that won’t get you up there to help fight off equalists. Not being able to just stand by you summon water from below and create an ice bridge to the platform, if you can’t fight, you can try to put out the raging fire caused by the explosion.

“Y/n, wait!” Tenzin calls after but you're long gone. If you just stand there you’ll go insane and you have powers that can help, even if you don't get to kick some equalist ass. Up above Lin finally lands on the glass dome and immediately sets out to take down as many people as she can at once, Korra watches in amazement for a moment as she wraps her wire at some guys foot and slams him into the roof before she gets knocked off the rope and lands onto the dome with a loud thud and the crackling of the glass starting to break below her.

It’s a collision of fire and electricity with metal wires flying towards the men and from below where you are using all your strength to put out the fire, it looks almost beautiful with the sparks of blue and flashes of red if not for the current circumstances. Tenzin has taken to help you with the fire by trying to use air to snuff it out. Suddenly glass from above sprinkles around them and you look up to see your little sister free falling once more.

“Tenzin can you do something with your air?!” You shout and he goes to try and send a force of air to help slow her down but she's going too fast, she’s flailing and if she doesn’t do something soon she’ll most likely die from the impact. As you run to the edge of the platform to try and save her yourself, Lin appears from above Korra and shoots a small wire to her so she can hold onto it like a rope.

Your shoulders sag in relief as you stumble away from the edge and use everything you’ve got to summon a massive wave to once and for all put out the fire. It works and the force of the water has it crashing into the stands taking with it some of the seats and any trash left behind in the frenzy. When you see Lin and Korra land you race off towards the now soaking wet stands, using the water below as a set of frozen stairs to reach them. When you do, Lin has her hand on Korra’s shoulder and is saying something but you don’t make it out before you crush them both in a hug. Some sort of strangled sound of relief bubbles up through your throat as your hold on them tightens.

Korra wraps her arms around you, softly saying “thank the spirits you're okay” as Lin stays perfectly still. As her adrenaline slowly leaves her body and she realizes you aren’t in danger, she suddenly can’t be touched by you. She remains frozen until you pull away, you know it's not the time to bombard her so instead you offer Lin a thankful smile, too worried about how she’d react if you did anything else.

-----

A few days later you finally let Korra out of your sight, letting her run off to deal with her boy problems as you head towards the main police station. You tried to casually ask Tenzin what kind of tea Lin liked best, to which he’d furrowed his brows and said “why?” You simply shrugged and repeated your question. Apparently, it was jasmine, which was a favorite of yours as well so you stopped by your favorite tea shop and grabbed two to-go cups. As you enter the station you square your shoulders and give yourself a little pep talk “You can do this, you just need to march in and figure out why, maybe butter her up with the tea first of course, and then ask why, that’s if she lets you into the office…” you trail off once your eyes land on the door of Lin’s office, the words “Chief Beifong” are written in gold on the glass door which has a blind pulled down so you can’t see inside, which your slightly grateful for.

“Chief Beifong doesn’t want anyone to disturb her” one of the cops called out, but you ignore him and open the door, who cares, you deserve answers.

“I said I wanted to be alone, how brain dead are yo-” her words cut off as you walk in, balancing two cups in one hand so you can shut the door. You swallow, suddenly being in front of her has made most of your bravado slip away, along with your original plan, leaving you speechless. She doesn’t say anything, seeming to forget that she already spoke to you in the arena. You set the cups down and lift your shirt, which causes Lin to blush but you don’t stop until she can see her own words.

“I used to hate them… y’know,” you say quietly before dropping your shirt back down, Lin glares at her desk. “I used to be jealous of Korra and all the attention she got, so imagine growing up with her name etched onto your skin.”

She goes to open her mouth to speak, most likely to spew out some lie so you beat her to it. “I don’t know why, exactly, you kept it to yourself, I asked Tenzin the other day and he said you didn’t have a mark which is odd seeing as you are my soulmate." You pause, your voice softening, "you could have just told me straight away that you didn’t want me, didn’t want this instead of ignoring my existence and leaving me to wonder what I'd done to offend you.” Finally, she looks up from the desk and you make eye contact with her. You're trying so hard not to cry as you try to figure out what's going through her head, will she kick you out? Is your soulmate going to reject you?

“I thought…” Lin begins, she looks away from you, not being able to look you in the eyes anymore. “I thought I was doing you a favor, I’m old, and I’m not the most personable or charismatic person, I thought maybe you’d want someone your own age, maybe someone like your sisters' teammates.”

“So someone who is young and a guy? Did you think that maybe you should let me decide what I wanted instead of just assuming?”

“Look I gave up on the idea of having a soulmate years ago!” Lin shouts and you flinch away in surprise, “thirty years is a long time, do you know how I felt when those words suddenly appeared on me at thirty?”

“Oh, so you do have a mark!” You let out a disbelieving, angry laugh. “So you just went around telling everyone you didn’t have one, pretending the idea of me, of us, didn’t exist.” Tears cloud your vision and you let out a frustrated groan as you quickly gaze up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep them from falling. Lin’s gaze softens and she slowly stands from her desk.

“Y/n… I thought about it every day, but… We can’t be together, I’m far too old and I’ll just hold you back.” You scoff and aggressively wipe at the tears falling down your cheeks, your heart feels like it's beginning to crack.

“Your mark?” You croak out and cringe at how you sound. Lin hesitated before using her bending to take off the armor on her right arm. On her arm is a massive burn scar, you keep staring at it, not knowing what to say. Did someone else do that to her? As if she can read your thoughts, Lin says softly “I did it to myself a few days after it appeared.”

Oh. So this is what it's like to have your heart cleaved into two, what you felt just minutes before seems like nothing compared to the pain wrapping so tightly around you that it seems hard to breathe. She hated the idea of you so much she'd rather hurt herself and lie to everyone in her life. Without another word you turn your back on your soulmate, despite the sound of calling out to you, just like she did to you twenty years ago.

#lin beifong x reader #lin beifon/reader #lin beifong #fanfic #legend of korra #lok #tenzin #korra #pema #soulmate au #bolin #lin #beifong #angst

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bnhaclaimedmysoul · 4 years

Text

how would the boys be around a s/o who compliments them?

anon requested: Hello! May I request? Think of some hs with a s/o with Bakugou, Tomura, Tamaki and Shouto, who are always admiring their beauty, she loves to compliment them. Maybe with some sweet kisses on their cheeks while complimenting them!?

characters: bakugou, tamaki, shigaraki, todoroki

note: sorry, i got a bit tired. also first time writing for lov, so please bear with me!

Bakugou Katsuki

-as an admirer of his beauty, you would be staring at his face all the time

-and in the beginning, he got all annoyed by the extra attention on him

-and would blush seriously as he could feel your loving gaze on him

- “what is it with you and looking at me?”

-“nothing, you’re just handsome”

-boomboomboi.exe has stopped functioning

-but over time, he got accustomed at your attention

-soft smiles sent your way

-and hearts brimming with love

-unsatiated feeling of affection being battled out by passionate kisses

-but when you resort to just staring at him, he’d feel flustered from the inside

-as though a wave of butterflies were fluttering within him, as he could feel his heart rate increase

-everything was so warm and mellow and bakugou loved basking the ephemeral bliss your adoration

-it made him feel a wave emotions which he never would have thought he would feel just by your attention

-but he really does love it and would do anything for it

-he would have no trouble by your attention as he continues to do his homework

-and it came to a point that the bby would be all pouty because your attention towards him was missing

-and sometimes, when he’s bored

-he’d push all his work to the side and rest his chin over the palm of your hand and stare right back at you

-it’s a very are occurrence and it never fails to make you feel lightheaded

-with the most indecipherable gaze, he stares right at you

-even before he could process what was happening, his palm would be underneath your chin

-and as you ever so silently whisper the words, he zones out as he focuses on how the light on your face changes as each syllable is uttered out of your mouth

-and your words enmeshed with appreciation for him are left unheard

-but to be honest, words really don’t matter in your bond

-Afterall, a few glances of love were more than enough to convey your overwhelming feelings for each other

Tamaki Amajiki

-he gets really really really flustered when you utter out the sweetest words to him

-he’s just dumbfounded, frozen in his spot

-the fuse in his brain frequently blows up due to your overly sweet words

-he tries to process them but the poor baby really can’t handle the compliments you give

-he is a v v blusy babie

-he gets flustered by it

-but he yearns to listen to more stuff from you, regardless of how flustered he gets from your voice

-he’s greedy for your attention and constantly yearns for your wholehearted compliments

-he’ll try to approach you

-and when you finally give him your attention, he hesitates and awkwardly looks away from your gaze

-and when you grasp what he was requesting for

-he loves to listen to you chuckle at his nervousness

-and the way you say, “all you had to do was ask my love”

-his lips slightly quiver in the anticipation for what is going to come

-and loves it when you collapse into his arms and pepper his skin with your loving pecks

-he loves the fleeting feeling of your warm lips scattered across his face

-as he feels the warmth of the previous one fade around his cheek, he likes to be surprised by the feeling of your lips on his temple

-he loves the anticipation for another kiss as he feels your warmth and love

-and a way to get him more anticipated and make him feel more loved?

-stop giving kisses and just admire the twinkling of his eyes underneath the light

-it 10/10 brings a blush on his face as he smiles underneath you

-and another extra way to surprise him??

-right after you stop to admire his features, lean down to him and just whisper sweet nothings into his ear

-he will melt into your touch and will clutch onto you like his life depends on you

-he will be eternally grateful for your presence, because you are not the sun, nor the sun eater, you’re the sun eater’s sunflower because you make him so happie!

Shigaraki Tomura

-passive aggressive level 1000

-will never tell you he wants it, but whines a lot

-a lot= “where is she? Get her to me. I will crush you all if she isn’t here in the next 5 minutes”x1000

-the league will go bonkers trying to meet his unreasonable needs

-but will still do it for him regardless of how many times he orders them to do it

-and when you finally arrive, you’re just greeted by awkward silence and your cheerfulness has to make up for the underlying sense of his hostility

-he will avoid speaking to you, like you’re the plague itself

-but the pleading look on his face suggests otherwise

-he will not use his words, but shigaraki tomura will not hesitate to use his 10% puppy eyes and convince you to do what you: shower him in the affection he yearns for

-when you finally start doing it, he tries to put an upfront that he’s quite annoyed by whatever you had to say but on the inside

-his heart be like *nyoom*

-but on the outside, “make it quick or watch me disintegrate this”

-and when you huff and begin grazing your hands across his scars, he eases into your touch instantly

-there is just something so heavenly about it, that he just feels extremely satisfied

-and when you start complimenting him and admire him for how beautiful he is

-he’s just allured at how therapeutic you make it seem for him

-your saccharine voice lulls him to sleep as the pressure of your nails against his scalp aid too

-it’s just a huge session of love, care and affection

-and although my man here will never publicly admit it

-he loves you for being so generous with your affection

-he will literally do anything to garner your attention

-this bby just wants to be coddled and told how much people love him

-he really appreciates sessions like these from the bottom of his heart

Todoroki Shouto

-he wants your attention

-scratch that, he needs your attention

-and he will get that attention by any means

-he will call your name out in front of everyone

-he will latch onto your apron while you’re cooking

-he will poke your shoulder on a movie night

-and when you finally give in, he can’t help but feel a tingle of excitement coursing through his body

-as much as he wants to listen to you praise him, he also thinks it’s more of an intimate thing for the both of you

-so, prefers this in absolute privacy, where he can be himself and you can’t hold back either

-while asking for it, he looks like he maintains a perfectly aloof composure, but BOI

-when you actually start kissing him, his heart starts to palpitate, his breaths get shorter, he feels dizzy. In short, he absolutely cannot maintain his composure

-he feels so lightheaded as he feels the vibration of each syllable of appreciation against his quivering lips, it’s euphoric

-his left side acts up as he tries to fathom the sudden overwhelming sense of love for you

-he genuinely feels so happy and would have this certain twinkle in his eye which will not disappear from his otherwise stoic expression

-whenever he’s feeling down, he always comes to you for an emotional uplift

-and whenever you sense him dejected in the corridors of the school

-just a back hug, a small kiss of his cheek and few words of encouragement go a mile for him

-he’s not going to be smiley but the aura around him just drastically changes whenever he feels confident about himself due to your love

-the poor babie tries to reciprocate the compliments but finds himself in a dilemma

-and when it does come to it, he just awkwardly gawks

-but you know he loves you

-his searing touch against your skin and the hitching of his breath when he’s around is more than enough to let you know that he’s definitely into the game

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musicallisto · 3 years

Text

♕ — 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝; (anya x f!reader)

summary: “Well! What you need right now is a little bit of spirit-lifting. And I know exactly the medicine.”

prompt: “How long as it been since you’ve slept?” song: dodie - Would You Be So Kind | 𝄞

author notes: my entry for @locke-writes ’ 1.5k writing challenge, and also my first time writing for anastasia! I hope you all enjoy this <3 (i don’t know how to say this but anya is dani and reader is jamie from thobm i don’t know why it makes sense but it does). I wrote this in second person at first then changed my mind and switched everything to third, then changed my mind again so if you see inconsistencies in the pronouns, that’s why (lol i’m a mess)

word count: 1.6k features: a bit of sad Anya, but mostly fluff; singing and music. this is really not my best writing but i’m rusty and overworked so please don’t insult me

𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃.

“Who is your great-grandmother?”

“Queen Victoria...”

“Who is your great-great-grandmother?”

“Erm — Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coldburg-Saalfeld!”

Through the beaten mahogany doors, Anya’s attempts at ladyship have been reaching your ears all day. Enthusiastic in the beginning, they have grown progressively more frustrated as the night has swollen, and your friends’ demands with it. There’s little in courtly life, you imagine, that Anya hasn’t tried her hand at yet.

Oh, the poor child indeed.

“Your best friend is...”

“My little brother Alexei —”

“Wrong! Your best friend —”

“I know who my best friend is!”

The outrage in Anya’s voice is almost as palpable as the bitter cold in your room, adjacent to their rehearsals; you can’t help looking up from your book at the closed door, as if it could tell you how to avoid the collision threatening your group. You grit your teeth, both in empathy and apprehension.

“What a temper!”

“I don’t like being contradicted!”

“That makes two of us!”

“Continuing on —” Vlad tentatively interjects, but Anya and Dmitry’s exasperation, even muffled, is clear in their voices. A second more and one of them will snap; although you’re uncertain which of the two short fuses will go off first.

“I’ve had it!”

Ah, so Anya it is.

“I hate you both! I’m sorry that we ever met — I’m hungry, I’m frightened, and I’m only human, don’t forget! I don’t remember anything — get out and let me be!”

“Anya, darling...”

But Vlad’s soft tone, ever the cunning mediator, is not enough this time to alleviate the young woman’s turmoil; and before he’s finished his sentence, raging steps echo in the vast hall, and a door slams — your door, at the step of which Anya stares you down, blinks in confusion, frowns, then lets out a harrowing sound.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t know you were here —”

“It’s alright. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Anya lets out a long exhale, heavy as a storm cloud, and slumps down on the foot of your bed with a resounding thud. Her shoulders crumple over themselves like bruised wings, and silence falls on the vast house.

But you can’t keep your attention on your book for very long — not only because the living story before you, defeated and worn, is much more vibrant and bewitching; also due to the racing of your heart whenever Anya stands near you. From the moment you’ve laid eyes on her, and even through the dust and gloom of your night, she’s kept that same regal beauty to her — something neither tatters nor amnesia can erase. It’s not in a long-lost parentage, you think, but all in the way her soul rustles with excitement at anything new and beautiful... rare are the souls, in Saint Petersburg, that gray skies and red stars have not yet tattered.

“They’re making you go through everything, aren’t they?”

“Heavens, yes! It’s too much, and I just want to go home!”

You set your book aside, directing your full attention to Anya.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept?”

“Maybe before the horseriding lessons — I can’t even remember!”

“Horseriding? Was that before the mazurka?”

“Yes, and before ten in the morning! Do you know the order of arrival for each guest at an Imperial ball? First, the Great Princes who come through the entrance in the Saltykov lane, then the bearers of the Court Ranks...”

“Anya, I don’t think that’s neces —”

“And married women must wear diadems! Is that not idiotic? What if I’m unmarried but don’t want to wear flowers in my hair?”

“I think you have way more important problems than your Imperial headpiece, like breathing.”

As if on cue, she takes a sudden gulp of air, and her reddened face, constricted by irritation, somewhat relaxes; maybe from the oxygen, maybe from the slight, amused smile that has crept onto your lips.

“Why haven’t they trained you to be Anastasia?” she resumes, her mouth now curled in a pout.

“Have you seen me?” you chuckle, all holed clothes and creviced skin, but your eyes loving. “I couldn’t even pass for Anastasia’s dog keeper.” (She can’t tell you yet, but she thinks you would make a wonderful princess, gracious and intelligent; but she blushes at the direction her thoughts are taking.)

“Dmitry could be the dog.”

“What a lovely sight.”

You settle into a comfortable silence, cross-legged together on either end of the bed, as the biting wind howls and claws at the window outside; but neither of you feels the cold. December is long forgotten, glowing dim as an ember, as long as you keep your gaze on Anya’s appeased face, the blush on her cheeks, and the romantic delicacy of her features.

“Do you believe you might be the Grand Duchess?”

Your question is but a whisper, and you fear she might not have heard you, even more so since she doesn’t turn her head to face you; but rather her gaze clouds, immobile in the flickering white light. A mist of melancholy traverses her face. A second later, it is gone, save for the last specks of snow in her eyes that never seem to melt.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything,” she responds truly, her words equally as quiet as yours.

“Well, for starters,” you pick up, a little louder this time, “if Anastasia had the temper people say she had... you’ve got that covered.”

She chuckles, like the tinkling of snowflakes twirling in the wind.

“She does sound like she was a lot of trouble, doesn’t she?”

“I think she sounds pretty charming.”

But before you can let the silence stretch for too long, and worry to crease Anya’s porcelain skin again, you enthusiastically slap your thighs and jump from the bed.

“Well! What you need right now is a little bit of spirit-lifting. And I know exactly the medicine.”

After rummaging through the mountain of clutter piled in the corners of your room — what in the world are Vlad’s sketchbooks doing here anyw-- Christ, so that’s where that book was all this time! — you brandish in triumph a triangular-shaped instrument, the one you carved yourself in leftover logs, on a particularly freezing night, the one the three of you painted with care until the crack of dawn to keep you warm and joyful.

“Oh, play me something, please!” Anya’s childlike passion engulfs your heart as you clumsily test out the chords. The balalaika is worn and sanded off at the sides, and severely out of tune, but your hands find their familiar places without hesitation, and the sound of the instrument is clear enough for the both of you on an exhausting and windy night.

You pick up speed, falling into a melody you once knew; what fragments you can’t remember, you improvise, and try your best not to grimace; but Anya’s leaning over, eyes and smile wide as though she wants to drown in your music, and all of a sudden your chest has started to sing on its own.

“Would you be so kind as to fall in love with me? You see, I’m trying; I know you know that I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will please fall in love, it’s only fair...”

Your eyes leave the strings as your voice rediscovers the words, your fingers the notes; Anya, in front of you, nods her head to the rhythm she savors for the first time, her foot keeping time unconsciously. If she ever had a childhood, this is surely what it was made of: soft, loving voices, gleaming eyes, a ray of light on her face, and the irrepressible urge to laugh.

"There’s gotta be some butterflies somewhere, wanna share? ‘Cause I like you, but that’s not enough, so if you will please fall in love with me...”

You’re grinning wide too, now, but unaware of it; all you see is Anya and her joyful brilliance, and you could swear that despite all the weariness in her body and the bruises on her soles, she’s ready to jump around in utter liberation. If only the music descended by itself from above your heads, you think, and you could drop the balalaika to dance with her — a dance she might enjoy, this time, a dance she doesn’t know the steps to!

Soon enough, you start giggling, without really knowing why; maybe from the silly wiggling of the shoulders Anya does, or maybe from the overflowing of light and sun in your chest; and it’s a pain to let out the last words between your uncontrollable laughter, even more after Anya starts laughing too.

“Oh, I like you, but that’s not enough... so if you will please fall in love with me...”

And so, after your grand finale — holding the last note a little too long and a little too high, and stroking the strings a little too fast like a Russian bolero —, the song comes to an end, the notes hanging in the air like your suspended laughter and hitched breaths... and your sparkling eyes lost in the sea of each other dare to hope, for the first time, that something might happen...

... but it doesn’t.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” she pulls back with a sincere smile, and you can’t fight the cruel disappointment seeping in your chest. Of course — you’re still in Saint Petersburg, where dreams have died long ago, and she has a fate much larger than yours. Still, you return the kind smile. She deserves as much; she deserves everything.

“No, thank you. For letting yourself be cheered up.”

The wind is still howling outside the window, but it carries, like an effervescence, the distant music of a balalaika, and you remain hopeful, your hand resting next to Anya’s.

If she would be so kind...

tagging; @softeninglooks @fives-cup-of-coffee (all my writing) ; @bravelittlesunflower @lxncelot @amortensie (musicals)

#mywriting #anastasia #anastasia broadway #anastasia imagine #anastasia one-shot #anastasia x reader #anastasia fanfiction #anya x reader #anya imagine #anya one-shot

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rhysismydaddy · 3 years

Text

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 3 (Nessian)

Damnation Series

Parts 1 / 2 / 4 / 5

_________________________________________________

~Cassian~

By the time I sneak in the apartment, it’s the middle of the night. The boxes in the corner tell me my fiancé is here, has officially moved in with me, and I take a moment to appreciate how fucking weird that feels.

I might be appreciative of all things women and have definitely earned my reputation as a player, but I’ve never had a woman live in my place.

It’s... weird.

I walk quietly through the place, passing the guest room she’s sleeping in, and into my room.

Then pause, because it turns out she’s not in the guest room.

Nesta’s sprawled in my bed, on my side, hair spilling over my pillow like liquid sunshine. The moon seems to favor her, highlighting the features I have a hard enough time avoiding looking at during the day, and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I think about how much more difficult it’s going to be to sleep now.

But I refuse to leave my own room, since this very well could be a power play, so I just walk to the attached bathroom, close the door, and sigh.

Looking in the mirror proves I look like shit, and I wonder what Nesta will think when she wakes up next to me.

She probably won’t care.

I have a feeling it takes something pretty drastic to shake that blasé attitude out of her.

After taking a cold shower to minimize the bruising, I pad across the room, grab some boxers, and slide into bed next to my blushing bride to be.

She shifts and turns onto her side, and I realize she’s stolen one of my t-shirts to sleep in. It’s ridiculously big on her, falling off her shoulders, and not nearly thick enough to hide what’s underneath.

Fucking hell.

Even asleep, I can’t ignore her.

Her smell--citrus and jasmine and vanilla--is fucking all over me, stuffing itself in my nostrils and not letting me relax.

I’ve never been this attracted to how a woman smells.

Most times, perfumes and lotions and whatever other sorcery women lather on themselves has the opposite effect, actually.

But all I can think about right now is rolling over and burying my face in her neck. Then burying a different part of me in her.

Even though I should turn over and at least try to sleep, I let myself look at her.

Her lips are slightly parted and look like they’d taste like candy, and there’s a serene, peaceful expression on her face that’s so different from the fierce one she usually wears.

She wiggles, somehow sliding closer, and murmurs, “Stop staring at me.”

I chuckle, and the simple fact that we’re laying in bed whispering to each other does strange things to my head.

Nesta apparently agrees, turning over and facing away from me. I take a moment to appreciate the sweep of her hips, and she seems to know exactly what I’m looking at when she says, “Goodnight, pervert.”

A smile threatens to bloom, so I wipe my hand across my face and smother it.

Maybe marriage won’t be so bad.

When I wake up, I amend my statement. Marriage definitely won’t be so bad.

I’m wrapped around around Nesta--which probably happened the instant I fell asleep--and my nose is against the soft skin of her neck, allowing me to breathe in the smell of her over and over again.

She just feels... right.

She’s relaxed against me, which is surprising, considering where my hand is.

One very numb arm is under her head as a makeshift pillow, but it’s the other one that’s interesting. It’s wrapped around her narrow waist, holding her tight to my chest and ending in the hand cupping her breast.

She’ll probably kill me the second she wakes up, but it might be worth it.

Fuck, she feels good against me.

But I realize I’m acting like the pervert she accused me of being, so I slide my hand down, towards the more neutral territory of her stomach.

I’m helpless, however, to stop myself from kissing the side of her neck softly.

She stirs, and I freeze like a red-handed thief.

But she just turns over in my arms, pressing her front to mine, and slips an arm around my waist, sighing sleepily. Her hand roams over my back, nails raising goosebumps in their wake as they softly trace over my skin.

She blinks her eyes open, takes in our tangled up position, and says simply, “Huh.”

“Yeah,” I respond like a monosyllabic idiot.

Clear blue eyes on mine, she brings her hand up to my face and lightly touches the split lip I’m sure is puffy as hell.

Fucker had a fast right hook.

“You made me a lot of money last night,” she murmurs, tapping my lip once, then twice.

“What?” I ask, too turned on and dizzy to focus on what she said.

She was there? She saw me fight?

A strange sense of male pride goes through me at that, considering I won.

“I had the bookie place a bet for me,” Nesta says, stopping that caveman train of thought in its tracks.

“How’d you know?”

I keep my fighting far away from the public’s eye, going clear across town to Lucky’s. It’s a small shipping company, and Lucky, the man who runs the place, uses some empty containers to host fights every week.

He knows who I am but doesn’t care, claiming he’s too old to be scared of some “young Mafia punk.” He also doesn’t allow cell phones or recordings, and there’s no written records of the fights.

She raises an eyebrow. “You realize Alexei owns that entire shipping yard, right?”

I had not.

“Huh,” I say, stealing her line from a minute ago. “And you bet on me? Why?”

“Call it intuition.”

I remember the way her eyes tracked over me yesterday, like there wasn’t anything she didn’t see, and I realize she knew I like to fight from the second she saw me.

“Glad I could help pad your bank account,” I tell her, smiling. “And I’m glad you make yourself at home in my absence. But just for future reference... I sleep on that side of the bed.”

She leans in, lips an inch from mine, and whispers, “Not anymore, you don’t.”

A rough smile is all the warning I give her before I pull her close and turn over, practically throwing her to the other side of the bed.

I don’t know what I expect her to do, but it sure as hell isn’t jab me in the ribs, crawl over me, and retake her original spot.

Prodding my ribs, I notice she hit me right on a pressure point. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

She grins, a challenge lighting up her bright eyes and making her look even more alive.

“Oh, malyshka,” I whisper, somehow knowing calling her a pet name will piss her off. “You’re in so much trouble.”

“Bring it, stronzo,” she shoots back, calling me an asshole in my own fucking language. Disrespectful.

I grab her wrists to try and pin her, but she’s fucking fast as an adder, slipping out from underneath me and poking me in the ribs again.

I step it up a notch, and for a few moments, we’re busy wrestling in bed.

It’s honest to God the most fun I’ve had in ages.

I’ve never met a woman who knows how to fight, much less one I can’t seem to pin. I have a hundred pounds on her, yet more than once, I’m the one struggling.

She continues pressing pressure points, some I never even knew existed, and despite the fact it sure as hell doesn’t feel good, I find myself laughing.

By the time I eventually just tackle her and press her into the mattress with my weight, I’m out of breath and can’t stop laughing at how ridiculous it is.

I grab her wrists and pin them above her head, my legs on top of hers to keep her from doing something clever like kneeing me in the balls. “Slippery little sucker, aren’t you?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then she tilts her head back and laughs.

Watching that stony exterior crack might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.

She comes alive, eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her laugh is a beautiful sound, light and airy and I can’t stop myself.

I drop down and kiss her, pressing my smile to hers.

She stops laughing.

And then she sighs, and the sound is so goddamn pretty I almost can’t take it.

She pushes up on my hands, hands wanting freedom, so I release her wrists and brace myself on my elbows above her. Nesta winds her arms around me, hands delving in my hair, and kisses me back.

I try to keep my weight off her, but she’s having none of that and wraps her legs around me and pulls me down, fusing our hips together.

I press myself against her, and she arches up in response, drawing a low sound out of my throat.

Now that my hands are free, they roam through her hair, across her sides, down her thighs.

She’s so goddamn soft.

She moves against me like it’s second nature, kisses me like she can’t get enough.

And when I move to kiss a path down her throat, inhaling that intoxicating scent as I suck on her skin, she softly moans my name. I feel like I’m on fire, and her saying my name like that that does absolutely nothing to help, so I bite on the junction between her shoulder and neck in retaliation for being so addictive.

She says my name, then again, and I notice it isn’t in the same soft tone as before.

My head snaps up, gaze finding hers to try and figure out if I did something wrong.

Her lips and cheek are rosy, blonde hair a halo around her.

“I think we should wait,” she states, even though she doesn’t make a move to leave or throw me off. And I know now she definitely could.

“For what?”

Her lips twitch. “Our wedding.”

It takes me a long time to respond. “Are you a-”

“No,” she says, looking at me with a teasing look in her eyes.

“Oh.”

“I just think it’d make it better,” she reasons.

Personally, I think it’d be perfect right the hell now, but I nod like I’m not hard enough to deform the mattress I’m pressing my hips into. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she mutters back, and we spend a moment lying there, breathing each other’s air. Until, “I should probably get up, then.”

Because I suddenly know a total of one word, I just reply, “Okay.”

I roll off of her and onto my back, putting a hand over my eyes so I’m not tempted to look at her ass as she gets up and pads to the bathroom.

I listen to her shower and get ready, all the while wondering how the absolute hell I’m going to live with her, have her sleep in my bed, without actually having sex with her.

She’s tempting enough wearing fucking work clothes, but if I wake up again with her in my arms? Fuck.

I could always go to someone else, but for some strange reason, the thought of being like every other man in the Cosa Nostra and having a mistress makes me sick. Or maybe it’s the fact that in a matter of two whole days, I’ve become completely wrapped around Nesta’s finger and don’t want to hurt her like that.

The object of my obsession comes out, walking over to the closet in a towel, and I look at the ceiling in misery.

Maybe I should stay in the guest room.

By the time I can breathe again and have gotten over the feeling of my balls fucking falling off, Nesta’s gone. She got dressed like nothing was the matter, asked if I was going to sit on my ass all day, and told me she’d be back later tonight as she slipped out the door.

It’s still early, and I wonder for a second where she’s going, but then shrug and stop sitting around pining.

I put on a dark suit--something I only do when I have corporate shit to do--and drive further downtown to Sera. It’s my first day, and I scheduled an all-staff to meet everyone and introduce myself.

I park and walk through the bank, nodding to the teller who opens the secondary bank door and lets me in the club. People are waiting inside, which is a little strange since I’m five minutes early, but I’m not complaining.

I take in the faces I’ve spent the past couple days memorizing as people file in. The staff is interesting, to say the least. More than a few have records, and some are from places of the world I’ve never heard of.

The investors come in last, the only corporate-looking people in the room. They come up and shake my hand while the employees choose to watch me with a strange look in their eyes.

Once everyone’s inside and seated, I smile and introduce myself.

“My name is Cassian Azara. I’m the new owner of Sera, and I just wanted to come by, introduce myself, and meet you guys.” No one smiles back or says anything, but I don’t let it bother me. “The change in management won’t impact the day to day aspect too much. I like the way things are and don’t plan on changing anything, but let me know if you need anything or have suggestions.”

One woman sitting in the back speaks up, her voice clipped and irritated. “What’s the point of taking over, if you aren’t changing anything?”

I don’t really know what to say, so I ask back, “Do you have a suggestion?”

She rolls her eyes, looking pissed as hell, and pulls out her phone.

Weird.

I stop speaking to the group, and the investors make a point to shake my head again. After they’re gone, I walk around to introduce myself individually, finding the general vibe to be... definitely not welcome.

I understand it’s weird for a stranger to come in and claim they’re the boss, but I just said it shouldn’t impact their lives too much, so I don’t understand the reaction I’m getting.

Some people ignore me, some look at me with irritation, and some just get up and leave.

I turn to the bartender, one of the only ones who didn’t act like he wants to stab me with a rusty knife, as he leaves. “Is there a reason they all hate me?”

He gives me a strange look over his shoulder. “We’re all pretty fond of the previous owner.”

Alexei? These people all like Alexei?

I’ve never heard a nice word about that man, but I guess he won their loyalty over time.

Whatever. If these people like that cold bastard, they’re sure to love me.

What feels like a full twenty-four hours later, I walk through the door to my apartment and realize how fucking wrong I was.

The employees of Sera do not like me. I dealt with business of my own after the quick meet and greet this morning, then came back to do management stuff at six.

Immediately, I was met with complaints and broken things and inventory problems and about a million other things I don’t have to deal with at my other properties.

I’ve never met a group of people so difficult to work with.

Nesta eyes me as I come through the door, tilting her head curiously. “You look like shit.”

There’s something... interesting about her tone, but I shrug it off.

I wish I could lie and say she looks bad, too, but she somehow looks perfect and fresh as a daisy after whatever she’s done all day.

“Long day.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking at me over the top of her laptop.

“The employees at Sera, one of your dad’s old clubs, aren’t too happy with me taking over. They were a pain in the ass all day.”

Nesta looks at me for a while, something I can’t read playing in her gaze. “Huh.”

I grab a beer from the fridge and fling myself down next to her, looking over at her with my patented bedroom eyes. “You know what would make me feel so much better?” I ask, innuendo making the answer pretty obvious.

“Minet?”

My brow furrows. “I don’t know what that means.”

She sighs, getting to her feet and stretching her arms over her head in a way that makes her dress slide up her thighs. “Look it up, big boy. I’m going to bed. And before you ask, no, that isn’t an invitation.”

“Stay on your side,” I warn with a grin. “I’d hate to have to kick your ass again.”

Nesta just scoffs, taking her laptop up the stairs and disappearing into my... our room.

I look up minet, smile, and yell, “That’s exactly what I was thinking!”

She doesn’t respond, but I hear soft laughter and know she heard me.

Sighing about my lack of minet, I pull out my own computer, planning on going through some of the complaints I received tonight. But something makes me pause and remember the look on Nesta’s face when I told her about my day.

And her tone... it was amusement, I realize.

I pull up the deed and find out why.

Sera, and the building it’s hidden within, never belonged to Alexei. They were bought and built by little miss Nesta Orlov.

Interesting.

I keep digging and find out why the employees there are so loyal to her. One way or another, she saved them. All of them.

The bartender with the criminal record who struggled to find employment, the street performer who was sleeping on a park bench, the dancer who was denied a VISA until Nesta met with the governor on her behalf.

Every single employee is somehow bound to Nesta, somehow in her debt.

It’s fucking genius.

Instead of spending money to buy loyalty, she chose people who’d give it to her for the simple price of a job.

No wonder they hate me.

Maybe it’ll blow over when we announce our engagement at the party and they realize she’s still in the picture.

Although for some reason, I have the strange feeling that what happened today was just the beginning.

____________________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acosf #acosf fanfiction #nesta archeron #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #a court of mist and fury

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peggyrose19 · 3 years

Text

Babylon

Hello! Angst here. I am back. Did you miss me? No? Too bad :)

So I came up with this idea in the car a few weeks ago and subsequently nearly ran my car off the road which is why I shouldn’t be allowed to drive. It was inspired by this song if you’d like to listen while you read and make it harder on yourself. Characters belong to @lumosinlove as always. I’ve changed a little bit of the timeline, but this is a fic after all, it’s allowed. Thank you for reading!! Ily all <3

I thought we had a place, just our place, our home base, my headspace

Was you and I always, but that phase has been phased in our place

I see it on your face, a small trace, a blank slate, we've been erased

But if we're way too faded to drive, you can stay one more night

The roof had always felt like theirs. The rink was too, their starting line and the stalls next to each other in the locker room, and so was the dorm room they shared. But the roof, that was different. It was just for them.

No one else ever went up there. Just Finn and Logan, when they needed to escape from it all. It was quiet, as quiet as it could get in a college town. But they could see almost the whole campus from up there, and each time Logan remembered the first night Finn had taken him up here, Halloween of his freshman year. It hadn’t been that long ago, hell had barely been six months. But it felt like lifetimes ago.

Logan sat up there alone, staring at the stars. It was chilly still, the spring air cooling fast at night. He pulled his hood up, huddling farther into his sweatshirt. It was Finn’s, he noted distantly, breathing in the musky smell lingering on the cloth.

He sighed. It was all so complicated.

Of all the people there, he had to fall for his roommate.

It had been them, from the very beginning. The two of them facing the world together, or college at least, side by side in games and out, Finn and Logan, Logan and Finn. The connection had been instantaneous from that very first moment they met at training camp.

The more Logan thought about it, the more it upset him. And the more he wished he could stop. But hard as he tried, he never seemed to fully push Finn from his mind. Tears pooled in his eyes as the overwhelming sense of fear and hopelessness crept in, the way it so often did when he thought of this. It just seemed like no matter what he did, it was never going to work.

A warm weight appeared at Logan’s side then and he jumped.

“Woah, Lo, calm down,” Finn chuckled, climbing onto the roof and settling next to him. “It’s just me.”

“You startled me, that’s all,” Logan replied, hurriedly wiping away his tears. Thankfully Finn didn’t comment.

“Brrr, it’s chilly up here,” was all Finn said, moving closer to him. Logan told himself it was just the smart thing to do, using each other’s body heat to warm up, and not Finn needing an excuse to get close to him. It didn’t stop a shiver from running through him when Finn’s knee knocked his and, for just a moment, Logan could feel his breath hot on his face.

But then the moment passed and Finn was looking up at the sky while Logan stared at his lips and suddenly they were them again, Logan and Finn, teasing each other as friends and hiding from the world.

Logan didn’t have it in him to leave.

I'm tired of the feud, your short fuse, my half-truths are not amused

I wish we had a clue to start new, a white moon, no residue

The color of our mood is so rude, a cold June, we're not immune

But if we're way too faded to fight, you can stay one more night

It was late when Finn staggered into the house and upstairs to the room he shared with Logan. Logan who, when he opened the door, sat up in bed and glared at him.

“Where have you been?” he demanded quietly.

Finn looked at him in the dim light, leaning against the door as he shut it.

“Out,” he answered shortly. He wasn’t drunk, hadn’t touched alcohol in over a week, but looking at Logan in that moment, it kind of felt like he was. His green eyes glinted, turning gray in the darkness.

He didn’t move from the door, but stood, examining Logan as best he could; the swoop of his shoulders, the dip in his collarbone, the toned planes of his stomach. He always slept without a shirt on, Finn thought dimly. His eye caught on the dark ink on Logan’s hip and his breath caught in his throat.

“Finn?” Logan asked carefully. Finn could feel his breath coming quicker, the tightening in his stomach that only Logan ever seemed to cause these days. Making a split-second decision, he crossed the room and dropped onto Logan’s bed, cupping his face roughly and bringing their lips together.

Logan gasped into his mouth, and for a split second Finn worried he’d gone too far. But then Logan was wrapping his arms around him and kissing him back and Finn relaxed into his arms.

This kiss was different from their first one. For one, neither of them was the least bit drunk. But it was more than that. Logan was kissing him softer this time, pulling him close and caressing his hair, parting his lips gently and licking into his mouth. It sent licks of fire throughout Finn’s whole body, and he jerked back.

“Finn, wait,” Logan panted when Finn chased his lips. “We can’t.”

“Lo what-” Finn frowned, unsure what had changed. Logan was looking at him warily, fear in his eyes. “Why? Are you okay?”

“We can’t,” Logan said again. “We can’t.”

“Logan.” He didn’t meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

“What’s wrong?” Logan demanded, looking up at him. “Harzy. We can’t- we can’t be, can’t do whatever this is, okay? I can’t-” Logan trailed off, running a hand distractedly through his hair. He watched Finn for a long moment, his mind swirling as he desperately tried to stay mad at him. But it was futile, it always was. It was impossible to stay mad at Finn, especially when he looked so lost and upset. He sighed

“Look, I’m sorry.” He ran a tired hand over his face. “I just- I’m sorry. It’s late, let’s just- let’s just get some sleep. We can… we can talk in the morning, just… please don’t look at me like that.” Logan fell silent, and Finn stared at him, wondering what his expression looked like to cause him to say that.

“G’night Logan,” was all he said, and then stood up and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving his best friend staring dejectedly after him.

We said we'd both love harder than we knew we could go

But still the hardest part is knowing when to let go

You wanted to go higher, higher, higher

Burn too bright, now the fire's gone

Watch it all fall down

Babylon

Logan didn’t want to let Finn go. As he laid in his tiny twin bed, Finn pressed up against him, it felt even harder. He was leaving in the morning, in just a few short hours, and the more Logan thought about it, the harder it became to fight back tears.

He knew he had to let him go.

But he also knew that he loved him.

And he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

Logan had never known what to do with his feelings for Finn, if he was being honest with himself. And this seemed as good a time as any to start telling the truth. Some part of him had always loved Finn, from that very first moment they met. He had felt himself falling for his best friend and teammate with each passing day, and had pushed the feeling down so far he forgot it was there.

Until that night. The party. Until he’d gotten drunk and chatted up a girl and Finn had looked at him with such jealousy in his eyes that Logan couldn’t stand it. So he’d let the girl go and begged Finn to come with him, making up a thin excuse to get him alone.

Then he’d kissed him, in the light from the streetlamp, and Finn had kissed him back like he was everything and Logan had only fallen harder. But still he ran. And as he lay there remembering, tears sparked in his eyes.

He didn’t want to ruin it all. Their friendship was too precious and Finn was leaving and-

It was all crashing down around him.

They had been so good, toeing the line between platonic and romantic for so long. Pretending he didn’t feel more than he did, that he didn’t want Finn so much more than as a friend. He had known it was going to crash and burn at some point, had known since the moment Finn found out he was drafted. It didn’t make any easier to let him go.

Burn too bright, now the fire's gone, watch it all fall down

#angsty angst #harvard finnlo #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #babylon #song fic #no happy ending oops #did you miss me?#this is becoming a series just btw #blame manda it's her fault #i have no regrets

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everything-person · 3 years

Text

Last Voyage

Summary: Emma surprises Killian with an old fashioned voyage with his old crew then Killian has a surprise for Emma

*cough cough*

“You alright?”

“Fine love. Just needed to clear my throat.”

Killian and Emma were walking along the beach in the early morning slowly making their way to the docks.

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s with all the secrecy love?”

Emma smiles up at him there was a shine in her eyes, “You’ll see.”

They made their way down the pier where the Jolly Roger was docked.

“Do you wish to have another one of our private adventures aboard the Jolly Roger? If that’s all you could have just said Swan.”

“Not this time.”

They made their way into the deck where they were greeted by some familiar faces.

“Welcome aboard Captain.”

Before them stood Henry, Hope, Smee and some of his old crew.

Killian smiled while also furrowing his brow. Turning to his wife for answers.

“I thought you might wish to have a day at sea. Re-live your glory days.”

“My glory days started the day I met you Swan.” Picking up her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Will you be joining me, love?”

“No,” she whispered, “not this time. I have somethings to take care of.”

He turned to Henry and Hope. He approached them with open arms.

“Then it’s looks like we’ll be having all the fun. Don’t worry love I’ll have them back before Sundown and we will eagerly enrapture you with our tales of our adventurous day.”

Henry looked down before meeting his eyes, “Actually we promised mom we’d help her with her stuff today. Maybe tonight we can play dice. I might just beat you this time.”

“Oh then perhaps I should give Dave a call. Show him what a pirates life was like.”

Henry shifted clearing his throat before saying, “Uh Grandpa is taking care of the sheriff office while we are helping mom today. Sorry but you stuck with your old crew for today.”

Killian nodded at Henry before turning his attention to his daughter. She had the same shine in her eyes as her mother, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“What’s wrong lass?”

She inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “Nothing Papa. I’ll just miss you.”

He cupped his daughters face, “Don’t worry, my little cygnet. I’ll be home tonight.”

She nodded embracing him. She burrows her face in his chest breathing him in. “I love you Papa.”

Killian squeezes his daughter not sure what has her so distraught, “I love you to my little cygnet. From your first breath far beyond my last.”

Hope let go heading to the gang plank quickly, without another glance to her father.

Henry approached the man that’s been a mentor, a father figure to him. Wrapping him in his arms, “Good bye Killian.”

Letting go he followed his sister down the gang plank waiting for his mother at the bottom.

Killian turned to see the love of his life standing there. She took slow step towards him her eyes never leaving his. Reaching up held his face, her eyes scanned every inch.

“What’s wrong Emma?”

She’s hooked her head offering him a smile, “Nothing. It just. . . sometimes I can’t believe that blacksmith I tied to a tree that said I need him alive would be so right.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye. Sometimes I can’t believe I forgot about that damned bar wench that kissed the hell out of me.”

She smiled, leaning up catch his lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away she rested her forehead against his, “I love you Killian. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Emma. Forever and always.”

Her hands slid down his cheeks to his neck over his shoulders down his arm grasping his hook and hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she started backing away holding onto his hand until she was to far away to hold on any more. Letting her hand fall she turned making her way off the ship. Henry reaches out his hand to help her off the last step intertwining her arm with him.

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman mom. I learned from the best.”

They made their way up the pier. They say and watched as the ship set sail. Her Captain on the quarter deck waving to his family before turning to wheel where he belonged.

As they stood watching Hope couldn’t hold in her emotions anymore. A sob escaped her lips, as tears started pouring out her eyes. “He should be home. We should be with him.”

Emma embraces her daughter, “That’s never how he wanted to go.”

“But he was fine. He was walking and knew who we were.”

“He also thought Grandpa was alive. He didn’t see us. He probably saw you as the little girl who would ask him to close the window so Peter Pan couldn’t get her. He probably saw me as the ten year old boy he helped rescue from Neverland.”

Emma pulled away looking at her children who have grown into adults that stood before her now.

“Yes but he is so proud of the people you have become. He was so happy to be a father and be apart of this family. He loves you both so much.”

Hope let out another sob as Henry wrapped an arm around her, letting one lone tear slide down his cheek.

“Besides it’s for the best he didn’t see me as I am now. A wrinkly old crown with gray straw for hair,” Emma let out a breathy laugh.

Henry shook his head, “He saw you as you actually are. He always has. The beautiful Savior.”

Emma smiled at her son, “Come on let’s go home.”

Later Emma was going through some things in their room. Remembering all the good times they’ve shared in this house. The wonderful life he shared with her.

She opened his night stand finding the copy of Treasure Island she gave him.

“This is ridiculous. This person obviously had no idea what they were bloody talking about,” Killian muttered.

Emma rolled over, “Babe Go to bed.”

“This book is an atrocity love.”

“Then stop reading it.”

“Why would I do that when they just started the mutiny?”

She laughed to herself. She would always try showing him how this realm reviews pirates with movies and books. Every time he would get riled up but any time she suggested to turn it off or throw the book out he would refuse having to see how it ends.

The next thing she pulled out was a familiar black scarf.

“So now you’re a gentleman?”

“Giants can smell blood. And I’m always a gentleman.” Hook said before putting liquid on her hand.

“Ah! Ow! What is that?”

“Rum and a bloody waste of it.”

He gently wrapped her hand with the soft material tying it off with his mouth. Her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.

Emma sighed remembering the spark she felt. Wondering not for the first time how much more time they would’ve had if she trusted him. If they came back together. How different their adventures would’ve been.

Something shiny caught her eye and she reached in and pulled out the last item in the drawer.

It was one of his hooks.

Killian kicked open their bedroom door while his lips fused to her. Her legs wrapped around his hips her latched around his neck.

Coming up for air Emma whispers, “Never do that again.”

“I’ll never leave your side even if the gods try to rip us a apart,” he promised before capturing her lips again.

Falling onto the bed they began divesting each other of their clothing. Killian reaches to take off his hook. Emma reaches her hand up, only in her bra and underwear, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“Leave it on.”

Killian groans, “You little minx.”

Emma sighed. As the memory fades away. So many nights, and some days, filled with passion. Both of them always willing to show the other how much they love them. Always up to meet a challenge.

Moving to put the items back in their respective places the book falls from her lap and clatters to the floor. Emma places the scarf and hook back before reaching down picking up the book. When she lifts it a note falls from its pages. Placing the book on the bed she once again reaches down and grabs the fallen piece of paper.

Unfolding it she is greeted with Killian hand writing.

‘Dearest Swan,

I’m sorry. I never wished to leave and now I have no choice in the matter. It seems to be a cruel joke. To be sent back to you by the gods themselves only to have my mind unravel while I’m still with you. I know I don’t have much time left. And I plan to cherish every moment with you I can.

When I do go, all I wish is to be at your side. For the last thing I hold is our family in my arms. The last thing I touch be your face. The last thing I taste be you lips. The last thing I see is the love in your eyes for me. If I am to drawn my last breath I wish it is your kiss that steals it.

And when I am gone. I will keep my promise I made all those years ago. I will move on but I promise you no heaven the gods can provide will compare to the life I have lived with you.

You are the love on my life. The mother of my children. My wife. My savior. My true love.

However long we are apart that will never change. My love will stay with you and I hope give you comfort in your time of need. And when it is your time I can only hope that the gods will once again reunite us.

Until then I ask that every day you live. Hug our children and give them an extra squeeze for me.

With all my love. Yours from the end of the realms and time.

Killian’

Tears fell freely from her eyes. They were never sure if Killian knew what was happening to him. Now she had proof that he did.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Still clutching the note to her chest she made her way downstairs. Sharp knocking was coming from her front door.

She opened it to find a pair of blue eye that she engraved into her memory.

“Killian.”

He bent down wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Sorry ma’am I know you weren’t expecting us so soon but he insisted on turning around and coming home,” Smee explained his signature hat in his hands.

“That’s alright. Thank you for bringing him home.”

Smee nodded, closing the door as he left.

“Why did you send me away love?”

“I thought you’d like to be at sea when the time came.”

Killian finally lifted his head, his gaze burning into her, “Don’t you know Swan all I have ever wanted was to be with you.”

Emma gave him a sad smile, “I do now.”

They made their way up to their bed laying down curling up together one last time. They not sure how long they laid there just enjoying their time together.

Killian reaches up brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I think it’s time love.”

Emma nodded scooting closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You aren’t,” she said with a shaky breath her lip quivering, “You will always be with me. And I’ll follow you shortly.”

She leaned up capturing his lips once last time. She pulls away resting her forehead against his.

“I love you Emma Swan,” he whispered.

She watched as the deep blue eyes that looked last all her walls that have always saw her closed for the last time.

A tear fell from her eye landing on his cheek sliding down his face.

“I love you Killian Jones.”

#ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook #killian jones #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs one shot #cs angst

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kaalamarii · 4 years

Text

I’m The Powder, You’re The Fuse (Beelxgn!MC)

18+ only; nsfw!

Warnings: Beel being sexy and irresistible, non graphic mentions of masturbation, a lot of weird finger licking???, oral sex, 69, straight up smut.

Masterlist

Beelzebub went into the bedroom that he and his twin shared, surprised to see MC on his bed, a text book and several pages of notes sprawled out around them. They chewed on the end of their pen as they read, focused, before writing down an answer. On the other bed, Belphie was napping per usual, his text book next to him and some papers on the ground.

“MC?” Beel said, making the human jump.

MC looked up at him, eyes widening at what they saw.

Beel stood before them, nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair wet and falling into his eyes. He smiled sweetly. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I-it’s okay. Sorry, uh, I was helping Belphie with homework and he fell asleep, so I kinda just stayed here. I’ll get going.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Don’t you want some privacy so you can get dressed?”

Beel shrugged. “I don’t care.”

He didn’t notice MC’s embarrassed expression as they bit their lip, eyeing the naked demon.

“I’ll throw on some shorts and we can go get a late night snack together,” Beel said with a grin.

“Oh. Uh, yeah, okay.”

MC gasped quietly as the red haired demon dropped the towel. They quickly covered their eyes with their hand. As he went to his dresser to find a pair of shorts, MC gave themself permission to peek a little, though quickly feeling guilty at the sight of his muscular back.

“Alright, ready to go to the kitchen? I’m starving.” Beel held out his hand, helping the human up off his bed.

As they walked down the hallway, MC tried their best to look anywhere but at Beel. When they got into the kitchen, MC leaned against the counter as Beel opened the fridge, rummaging through it.MC’s eyes trailed down Beel’s muscled shoulders, arms, and back, pausing at his ass before flitting back up to his handsome profile. He grabbed a few things from the fridge and looked over at MC with a smile. The human quickly looked away.

“So, how have you been, MC?” Beel asked.

“I’m o-okay,” they answered, gaze hovering over the still damp and glistening chest and abs of the demon. “Were you at practice?”

“Yeah,” Beel replied as he opened a small jar of custard.

MC crossed the kitchen, taking their turn with the fridge, staring inside at all its contents. They didn’t even know what they were searching for, besides a way to get themself to stop looking at Beelzebub.

They froze as they felt the demon come up close behind them, leaning into them to look over their shoulder at the fridge. “What are you looking for?”

“Um, not sure yet,” MC said, trying their best to ignore the fact that a shirtless freshly showered Beel was so close. Though they weren’t looking at him, they could smell the scent of his soap. He smelled so good, and the feel of him against them was a tad overwhelming.

Beel placed his hand on MC’s hip, gently scooting them out of the way. He grabbed some sort of Devildom fruit that the human had never seen and held it out to them. “Try this,” he said. “I bet you’ll like it.”

MC smiled shyly, grabbing the fruit from Beelzebub’s large hand. “Thanks.”

Beel nodded as he leaned against the wall, dipping two fingers into the jar of custard. He brought it to his mouth, moaning happily as he closed his lips around the two fingers and slowly pulled them out. MC let out a barely audible gasp, one that they were happy Beel didn’t seem to notice.

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” MC muttered, a throbbing starting between their legs. They were desperate to get away from the demon before he noticed their arousal.

Beel frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. Just really tired.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, goodnight, MC.”

MC said good night to him quickly before heading back to their room in a hurry.

As MC got ready for bed, images of the half naked demon licking custard off of his fingers refused to leave MC’s head, and their own arousal was getting impossible to ignore. All they could think about was wanting to jump the gluttonous demon, run their hands among his abs and strong arms. They got into bed and slid their hand under their underwear, sighing as they started to touch themself. It was both a relief to have some sort of pressure against their sex, and frustrating, as they’d rather have Beelzebub gluttonous between their thighs. They continued, speeding up on themself as they shut their eyes, imagining it was Beel instead.

They were about to cum when there was a soft knock at their door. They jumped, hurriedly pulling their hand out of their underwear and getting out of bed. They opened the door, Beel standing there holding their books and papers.

“Oh, hi, Beel,” MC said, breathing shakily.

“Hey, you forgot these in my room. I didn’t want you to forget them tomorrow...are you okay?”

“Y-yeah, I’m fine!”

Beel looked the human up and down, at first checking if they were hurt. He noticed the shorts they were wearing were messed up at the top a bit. The thought of them pleasuring themself crossed his mind, but Beel quickly threw the thought away. As hot as he would find that, he figured he was overthinking it. Of course messed up clothing didn’t mean anything.

But then he smelled it, the arousal emitting from the human. Between the messed up clothing, the fidgety and nervous reactions of the human, and that beautiful, sweet scent, his suspicions were confirmed.

Beel smirked. “You know, MC, if you need anything, you can always ask me.”

MC eyed him, confused. “Yeah…?”

“Anything,” he reiterated, stepping closer to them.

“Thanks, Beel,” MC said nervously, gently grabbing the books from his hands and setting them on their table. They gasped when they felt the large demon behind them. They turned, looking up at him. “Beel?”

He looked down at the human, his eyes heavy. “I’m hungry, MC.”

His voice was low, husky, dangerous.

MC backed up nervously, though there wasn’t really anywhere to go between the demon and the table behind them. As much as they wanted him to stay, they also wanted him to leave so they could finally get rid of the throbbing between their legs that was now even stronger. “Oh, um, well, want me to go to the kitchen with you?”

Beel shook his head. “There’s nothing in there that will satisfy me.”

“There’s not?” He was being weird. Really weird.

“No,” Beel said, taking MC’s hands in his. “I know what you were doing, MC. Before I brought you your things.”

“You d-do?”

Beel nodded, bringing the hand that had just been in their shorts to his mouth and kissing it. “I wanna taste you.”

There was a crazy look in his eyes, similar to the one he gets when he was at his most gluttonous. A look he had gotten only when denied food. A look that one of the brothers had described as feral.

“Can I?” he asked.

MC stuttered a bunch of nonsense, unable to make actual words. Mesmerized and surprised by the way Beel was acting, all they could do was nod.

Beel kissed their hand again before sliding a finger of theirs into his mouth, not unlike he did with his own and the custard. The taste of their skin only made Beel more hungry for them. In one sudden movement, Beel scooped the human up, bringing them to his face. They were quickly joined at the lips, sloppily kissing, licking, nipping at each other. Beel held MC up with one hand under their ass, the other ripping off their shirt as he brought them to the bed. He tossed their t-shirt to the side as he threw them onto the bed, perhaps a bit too roughly.

Beelzebub hovered over the human, a hand on each side of their head as he continued kissing them. He pressed his hips against theirs, teasing them with his large cock that was growing more and more stiff as he pressed against them.

“Beel,” MC groaned as his hands roamed their body.

He kissed down their body, taking each of their nipples into this mouth, softly nibbling and leaving licks down their chest and stomach. He stopped at the top of their shorts, gripping it with his teeth and pulling them down to their thighs.

MC hissed at the feeling of Beel’s mouth enveloping their most sensitive area, his tongue working his way around them. It was no shock to MC that the demon was a pro, tongue swirling around and hitting all the right spots. He licked and sucked like he couldn’t get enough. MC moaned louder and louder as they got closer. They ran their fingers through his hair, lightly pulling as he pleasured them with his mouth.

The demon groaned, tearing their shorts off all the way and placing his hands on their thighs, pushing them farther apart to give himself even better access to them. Beel looked down at the human, his eyes dark as he inserted his fingers into their mouth, mirroring their fingers in his just moments before. The human eagerly took them, sucking on them until Beel pulled them out and brought them down to MC’s entrance. He looked up at them once more, asking permission to continue.

“Please, Beel, yes.”

Beel grinned, his mouth returning to their genitals as he slowly pushed his moistened fingers into their hole. The human inhaled sharply as the feeling of his large fingers in them, but then sighed as he pumped them in and out, pleasure taking over. With his other hand he pulled his cock out, jerking himself off.

“Wait, Beel,” MC said through moans. Beel paused, looking up at the human.

“I want you in my mouth too.”

Beelzebub smirked, pulling away to get onto the bed with MC. He laid down, pulling the human on top of him, facing away from him. He quickly went back to fingering and going down on MC.

It was a bit difficult for MC to reach his cock because of the height difference, but it didn’t stop them. They wrapped their hand around his girth, pulling him to them. It was huge, and for a moment they wondered how it was going to fit in not only their mouth, but inside them as well. Still, they couldn’t help but feel excited by the thought of being stretched by Beel and his large cock.

They pumped him a few times before wrapping their lips around the tip and slowly taking him in their mouth. A hum from the demon’s lips vibrated against them and they shivered. They bobbed their head up and down his large member, though it was hard to concentrate on both the feeling of what Beel was doing and trying their best to pleasure him.

Beel threw his head back with a loud groan as the human took him into their mouth, swallowing as much of him as they could. He continued fingering them until their legs started to shake and they climaxed, moans muffled by his dick in their mouth.

With a grin he picked them up, spinning them around so they were face to face. Slowly and carefully, he lowered them onto him. MC’s walls tensed around him immediately, both in orgasm aftershock and the pleasurable pain of taking him in.

“Oh fuck!” MC cried out.

“You okay?” Beel asked, pausing.

“Yes, you feel amazing.”

Beel smirked. “You do too, MC.”

He held MC just to steady them as they sunk down on him at their own pace, taking their time in getting used to him. It wasn’t long before he was in as much as MC could possibly take him.

MC picked up the pace, bouncing up and down on his cock. They felt so full, stuffed to the brim with the beautiful demon.

Beel looked up at the human riding him. There was something about them being so small compared to him, so fragile and sweet, that turned him on. Being inside them felt amazing and brought out the demon in him. Horns grew from his head, wings sprouting from his back and fluttering at the pleasurable feelings in his body.

He sat up, holding MC close as he kissed them, the feeling of them all over him sending him into orgasm. He gripped their shoulders, holding them still as his hips jerked up into them, shooting cum into their body. He growled as he came, and the human cried out in satisfaction.

Both of them collapsed, out of breath. Beel looked over at MC, pulling the human to him to rest on his chest. They lied there together in bliss for a few moments before Beel looked down at the human, kissing them on the forehead.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m a little sore,” MC confessed, “but in the best way.”

Beelzebub chuckled.

“Did that satisfy your hunger?” the human teased.

Beel smirked. “I’m the Avatar of Gluttony, MC. I’m always hungry.”

#just add some friction #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #beel x mc #beel smut #pwp #we all know beel is hung #gender neutral mc #beel x gnmc

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