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earthtooz · 10 months

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x : LOVIN' YOU RIGHT :*+ﾟ all of me i'm offering, show you what devotion is !

in which: reo keeps chasing after you because the one thing he knows how to do is love you right.

warnings: 2.2k words, FLUFF, gn!reader, reo is an athlete, post-argument fic inspired by jungkook's 'seven' mv, mentions of food, pet names used by reader and reo, reo is a little bit of a flirt and a lot in love and pathetic bc that's how we like our men!

a/n: I LOVE REO

“what are you doing here?”

reo looks at the direction of your voice, eyes widening in surprise upon seeing you. there are grocery bags in your hands, you’re wearing the sweater you always wear when running errands, and you’re looking at him like he’s a fly that’s invaded your home, annoyance and exasperation seeping right off you. despite it, his heart flutters alive and reo feels like he can finally breathe after the few days you spent ignoring him.

“y/n!” he exclaims, a smile making its way onto his face. “hi baby, i’ve missed you!”

just as he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, you swerve aside smoothly, causing the purple-haired’s smile to drop.

“y/n? what was that for?” you don’t answer him, instead slipping past his figure to stand in front of your door, perhaps pressing a little too close for it to be normal, but reo keeps quiet about it. “at least let me help you with your groceries, you can’t unlock a door with both hands-”

“don’t.” you command, struggling with getting your keys out. “why are you here?”

“wh-what do you mean? i haven’t seen you in three days and i missed you so i came to visit,” he pouts. “did you not miss me?”

your eye twitches. “i’m still mad at you,” you finally unlock your door, pushing it open and closing it before reo could come in.

however, that plan is much easier said than done because your boyfriend has better reflexes and is considerably faster than you, so he jams his shoe in between the doorway before you could close it. he makes no move to push it open though.

“i’m sorry!” he calls out guiltily and he hopes his words reach you through the thin space. “you know i am, i didn’t mean to upset you, and i came to talk it out and make it up to you!”

you peek through the gap, looking reo in the eye. “as much as i appreciate your apology reo, there’s no point in letting you in, i need to go run some errands soon so why don’t you leave and come back later when we can talk.”

“then can i come with you?”

“why? you’re just going to be bored following me around.”

“i’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you allowed me.”

the silence is deafening, utterly suffocating as reo awaits for a response. he has never wanted to kick down a door so badly in his life because if you spend another millisecond not speaking to him then he might lose his mind, he’d rather die than have you shut him out.

thankfully, you open up the gap just a little more, allowing him to see more of you, but you don’t meet his eye, looking to the side bashfully instead. “fine, but i’m still mad at you, so don’t get any ideas.”

heaven is on his side, reo decides as he fails miserably at hiding his smile.

“you wait outside though, i’ll be out in a bit.”

“wait, can’t i help you put your groceries away?”

“you don’t even know how to do it properly.”

“i’ll learn for you.”

“another time.”

reo retracts his foot and you close the door with a gentle click, the sight of you being replaced with a wooden plank souring his mood significantly. better than you slamming the door in his face, he supposes, but nevertheless, the purple-haired sighs, moping in front of your door like it was his birthright.

he only broods for a few minutes maximum because soon enough, he’s reunited with you, trailing behind you like a second shadow as you both make your way through your neighbourhood. the excitement that reo feels practically tangible, leaving a trail of undying devotion, powered by the love he feels for you.

the walk is quiet, filled by sounds of passing cars, birds chirping, and people strolling by that stare a little too long at the purple-haired, either subtly admiring him or wondering why he seemed so familiar. you’re acutely aware of the stares and how strange the sight must be to them. world-class soccer player and multimillionaire trailing behind a nobody as if it was just another day, how unfathomable.

you wonder if reo gets tired of it.

“what are you doing today?” your boyfriend asks, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“i need to drop by the bank first of all, then i have some things to return, and then i need to buy some new headphones because mine broke.”

“oh, good to know!”

“reo, i swear, don’t even get the idea about paying for any of it. use your credit card today and i will personally-”

“-okay, okay!” he jokes, defensively putting up his hands. “i won’t.”

“promise?”

“promise.”

you narrow your eyes at him in suspicion, very clearly not believing him before continuing your journey. you know your boyfriend better than anyone and if it’s one thing he’s stubborn with, it’s never letting you pay, but you’re determined and reo is plotting the many ways to break his promise.

the first method is dropped in front of him like a divine gift, which took shape through a flower stall in front of the mall you planned on going to. reo is a man of taking his chances whenever he sees it. grabbing your hand to stop you from walking any further, reo doesn’t explain his intentions as he wordlessly drags you to the quaint store that had set itself up.

“reo, no-”

“-this one, please,” reo demands as he hands the bouquet of his choice to the store owner, keeping you in a tight grip before you could run away.

“reo!”

“that’ll be 7700 yen.”

“that’s too much! reo, stop it! i told you you couldn’t use your credit card today!”

from his pocket, reo fishes out a crisp ‘10000’ bill, dropping it on the platter for cash before speed walking away with the bouquet. “thank you very much, no need for change!”

the protests of the store attendant fades in the background and reo turns to you with a boyish smile, pushing the bouquet into your arms as if you hadn’t witnessed everything that just happened.

“reo,” you murmur, resolve crumbling as the beautiful arrangement shines up at you and it doesn’t help that your (very charming) boyfriend is looking at you with a pleading look in his eyes, practically begging for you to accept. “i told you not to buy anything-”

“-with my card! you never said anything about cash.”

“that’s not the point- oh my goodness,” you pinch the bridge of your nose whilst shaking your head, but you quickly admit defeat when a small giggle slips through your lips.

glancing back up at him, there’s scorn in your eyes but it’s easily contrasted by the gentle smile that dances along your lips. reo feels a warmth spread in his chest, as if he had swallowed the sun and made itself home beside his heart, the same one that begins to race at the sight of you laughing. he is so pathetically devoted to you that it makes him stupid, but he’d buy all the flowers in the world if it will make you smile at him like this.

“you’re so silly, reo,” taking the bouquet from his relaxed grip, you hug it close to your chest. “thank you though, i love them.”

“i love you,” slips past his lips before he can think.

“ever the smoothtalker, aren’t you?”

you walk away without another word, causing reo to chase after you. “wait, why aren’t you saying it back?”

“still mad.”

reo shuts his mouth, complaints dying on his tongue as he continues following you through the mall. slowly but surely, you make your way through your list of things to do, with the world-class athlete silently losing his mind more and more with each second that you weren’t giving him attention. he needs to plot more ways that would break your resolve, and fast.

his opportunity comes up when the two of you pass by a bakery that catches your eye, your gaze to lingering a little too long on the display of baked goods for reo not to notice. without a second thought, he drags you in with him, your immediate complaints falling on deaf ears.

“i don’t want anything!” you hiss, trying to keep loyal your stubbornness despite the enchanting smell of baked goods wafting through the air.

“too bad, either you tell me what you want or i’m buying out the whole store,” reo promises, eyes alight with determination.

“i want to go home.”

“aren’t you hungry?”

“there’s food at home, i don’t want to waste any unnecessary money.”

“it’s not wasting if it’s spent on you, though,” he reasons before ordering the baked goods that he knows you will like, and once again, paying for it with cash.

“if you’re trying to get me to forgive you by spending your money then forget it,” you mutter, ripping your hand out of his grasp before walking out of the store.

“y/n-” reo begins, cutting himself off as he waits impatiently for his order to get finished packing; not that it takes long before he leaves the store with a branded paper bag in hand, filled with perhaps multiple boxes of baked goods as dashes out to the entrance, prepared to chase after you.

except he doesn’t need to, because you’re standing outside patiently waiting for him, the bouquet of flowers still snug in your arms. its beauty could never compare to yours, reo thinks offhandedly as he approaches you like a magnet.

“i thought me walking out would deter you,” you murmur, eyeing the bag in his hand. “should��ve known that it wouldn’t work.”

reo grins, partly out of adoration, mostly because he’s just glad you didn’t actually leave him behind, not that you ever would or could do such a thing.

“you treat me too well, don’t you think?” you hug the flowers closer to your chest.

“what? where did that come from?”

you shrug, not meeting his eyes. “i don’t know, you’re just too good for me sometimes. aren’t you tired?”

a crack resonates through his heart, causing a few pieces to crumble and shatter on the ground. “how could you ever think that?” he says in a panic. “do i need to give you more flowers? i need to call to make you an arrangement soon, i’m so inconsiderate! we can go out next week, i’ll clear my sche-”

two hands are placed of either side of his face and the words die on reo’s tongue. you look at him with a look of fondness that almost makes him cry and fall to his knees. “-i’m sorry, i don’t know where that came from. i just think i got really lucky having someone like you in my life.”

reo wants to say that its reverse, that he’s the one who landed in a pot of fortune and came out with someone as kind and beautiful as you, but he’ll find the words some other day because he wants to kiss you, badly.

finally, you say, “thank you love, i appreciate your gifts.”

he beams and falls harder in love than he already was.

by the time the two of you arrive at your apartment, the sun is beginning to dip belong the horizon and you hold a lot more goods than anticipated, your boyfriend being the one to blame for most of them.

“are you gonna call someone to drive you home?” you ask, stopping in front of your door.

reo frowns, “i guess i could do that.”

he makes no move for his phone and his pout is a strong indication of what he truly wants. you’ve always been good at reading reo but you’ve never been good at resisting his wishes, so it’s with a faked sigh that you give in.

“fine,” you hold out your hand for him to take and he very happily complies, beaming with a hope so bright that it blinds you. “want to stay the night?”

he almost drops to one knee but doesn’t get the time to because you’re unlocking your door. this time, you’re leaving it open and reo storms in like its his birth right (which it could be. he thinks he was put on this earth to love you and being welcomed in to your apartment might as well be another declaration of love.)

its refreshing to be in your space once more, to bathe in your presence and be welcomed in instead of shut out. as much as you may scorn him, reo’s only place in the universe is beside you, and he’ll take whatever you give so long as it’s you he gets to see at the end of the day.

“reo!” you call out from the kitchen, disrupting his thoughts. “should we have some of those cakes you bought earlier?”

“yeah, i’m coming!” shouts reo, happy, content, and grateful that you will let him love you, because he’s the only one that could do it right.

#i like this for once :>#reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #mikage reo x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #reo mikage #mikage reo #reo fluff #reo x reader fluff #blue lock

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itsbenedict · 9 months

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was asleep; got up to write a tumblr post

there was a poll a while ago that was like, why are there dishes in your sink? and i was like, because the dishwasher is expensive to run, duh, i'm not gonna run a load of dishes until i have enough dirty dishes to fill it all the way up. (this was a habit instilled in me by my mom, who grew up super-poor and has Maximum Efficiency Instincts for every single household chore.)

but then i went to quantify this expensiveness, and various figures found via google suggested it actually costs about 17 cents to run a load of dishes. and ever since then i've just. run the dishwasher every few days, whenever i feel like i'm probably gonna want that spatula a little later, with whatever dirty dishes i happen to have, rather than planning out dish usage for optimal dishwasher space efficiency, or letting them pile up until there's definitely enough to run a load and feeling annoyed about how long it's going to be until i can get the good spatula back.

and that's just. way better. a major annoyance that's stressed me out pretty much my whole life is gone. thanks, that one tumblr poll about dirty dishes! valuable service, getting me to actually think about an unconscious habit and reason through it and realize i can kick it.

#i cannot find the post because tumblr search is broken and siikr is hanging #but i appreciate it

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eluxcastar · 2 months

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Hello Riri! :]

I'm in my platonic harbingers with a child reader era, and you're one of the few people I follow who writes platonic stuff on an occasion. So here's my request!

Here's the small storyline I have. Reader is the child of a god (you're free to decide what they are the god of, if you want) who is extremely well known around Tevyat, and puts on a very intimidating and serious presence. Yet one unfortunate day, the readers parent dies, so now they have to take on their legacy at a too young of age. Making them grow up out of their childhood much faster and pressuring them into becoming exactly like their parent. Cold, intimidating, and serious.

And out of all the mortals the reader has met, the harbingers are who they find comfort in. They could be lecturing some other mortal one minute, and the next minute, they see one of the harbingers. They're grabbing them by the hands, bouncing on their tip toes with a bright smile.

(Hope you're having a good day! And please don't overwork yourself<3)

Fatui harbingers with a child god

── ୨୧：fatui harbingers & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: child reader taking over as archon and basically immediately proving why child rulers are a bad idea but it's ok because it's cute and endearing

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, god reader, signora might be ooc tbh I struggled to think for her, not proofread

୨୧﹑words :: 3k

this has been in my inbox for some time, even though I've really wanted to do it for ages. I'm sorry honey it took me a while to get to it. the description of their parent at least to me was giving mr zhongli when he was morax and I immediately thought of the ramifications of him faking his death in the rite of descension which makes me wanna write something else BUT THAT'S FOR LATER

I meant to post this four and a half hours ago but suddenly it was like twice the length I thought it would be and uh yeah that was not the plan but enjoy the food served hot and fresh

There has hardly been a moment of grief since you were orphaned, and the people are turning to you for their next overseer. You, small, fragile, and ill-prepared, are the one they wish to see take up the pillar left in your father's wake. You weren't ready, and maybe you never would've been, embraced by the caring side of your well and truly mellowed-out father and cherished by the people as the child of the nation.

Your transition from people's treasure to people's guide was jarring, and you're still not used to it. You move with what pleases and hide what brings deep frowns and disappointed eyes. The people no longer want a child but a god. They want their pride, once a god who had walked by their side for millennia, now the passing generation of a god as the mantle shifts to his blood.

It's hard not to notice what they make you, now the spitting image of your father, though you can only parrot his earned wisdom and show a brave face to keep the nation from despair.

You have but a single ally—the Tsaritsa—someone whose messengers approached you to ask for your father's gnosis and who gladly agreed to offer you an invitation to Snezhnaya at your request to speak to her personally, quite honestly not knowing how to say that you frankly didn't know what to do with the gnosis. Though you could keep it, you're unsure how to harness its power, wield it, or even control it. Your father was strong, you're not.

She is an intimidating presence but gentle. She knew of your father for as long as she had been an archon—though they weren't on good terms toward the end—perhaps you could understand her more than he would. He was the original archon in his seat, but you are an inheritor like her. In her lands, you are the careful balance of both a god and a child, spoken to with the grace of a higher power but the softness that is befitting to a young child.

It is as you are.

Tartaglia is the first to seek a test of your strength, though you wish not to hurt him and convince him to wait. So long as the answer is someday, he allows you to let him down easily and settles at indulging your requests to join the snowball fight you noticed him having. You want to join in, fidgeting and with your gaze flickering between the smiling children and your feet. You push away your every want to join them and play as well, but remind yourself of the people who would scorn you. It's unfitting for a god to behave like an immature child, you remind yourself, but every hope of remaining steadfast to that is gone as Tartaglia notices you watching.

His offer is merely that—an offer. He speaks with a snowball forming in his hands as he approaches, his thick coat engulfing his form and the red scarf bundled around his neck to keep him warm. You have to look up to meet his eyes, playful and perhaps a little mischievous. Tartaglia holds the snowball out to you as if it were his peace offering.

"You look like you want to join the fun. Care to throw a snowball or two with us?"

"May I?"

And with that, you take his offering.

Pantalone's musings and the intentions of his gifts are not beyond you. He means to win you over and perhaps spoil you a little. It is coddling, and you notice it. He wants what he wants, and he will get it out of you, but it is also not beyond him to recognise that you are...naïve, endearingly. Pantalone can lavish you in fine silks all he wants, but you have received many offerings, so they don't particularly sway you as he had hoped, and he moves on. Your true weakness lies in children's toys, the many things you have been denied since you have been forced to steel yourself. The smile that twitches at the corners of your lips as he presents you with the first is enough to confirm it.

Toys are made for children; though you try to deny it, you are still a child at heart. Gifting a child a toy they will try to pretend they don't cherish but will protect with their life is perhaps the quickest way to earn their favour. He watches as you fiddle with the arms of the plush cat when you think nobody is looking, asking it questions and then responding to yourself in an all-too-dedicated voice you put on for this cat.

"Oh, Mr Cat, would you like some borscht too? It's very good."

"Yes, please, I would love to try some!"

Pantalone admittedly can't deny that you come with your own charms.

Signora spoils you what many of your aids have tried to before you, the chance to fix your hair, marvel at a pretty lady and wish you were half as sophisticated as her. She is your role model, second only to the Tsaritsa. She is beautiful and elegant and willing to teach you her ways as long as you continue to show up as cute as you are. Fix your posture a bit, head up, and walk everywhere with purpose, even if there isn't one. She has mastered the art, and you want it. Pantalone has his own appeal, a sophisticated man who learned through blood, sweat and tears, but there is something so distinct about Signora that makes you run to her at your first problem of presentation.

Like your mother, she will take you by the hand, lead you to a mirror, straighten your back, tilt your head up by the chin, and tell you to look at yourself now. Each time, you stare dumbly in awe of her reflection standing behind you, observing you like something precious, and it fills you with the confidence you need to heed her advice. It doesn't occur to you that Signora looks at you that way only because she thinks you're cute in your efforts, but too much like a child who got into their mother's perfume to be taken seriously.

"How others see you is important. Do you think they want to see their god with their back slouched and head hung? Hold your gaze above the people."

"It's-- well, different. I think I just look tense."

Sandrone has also come to realise that your weakness lies in toys, though she will not admit to aiding and abetting Pantalone's endeavours to find you a plushie. Instead, she shows you Katheryne. You have seen Katheryne before; you are sure of that, and that is only confirmed as Sandrone informs you that she exists in every branch of the Adventurers' Guild, including the one in your homeland. Katheryne is your access to knowledge, and the Northland Bank is your connection to Snezhnaya. Sandrone offers you comfort, the path that will lead you back to where help is and where you can go when you become overwhelmed by responsibility.

She likes your company, a reluctant admission that does not come cheap as she bargains your silence with the knowledge that she's aware of your liking for your cat toy. The embarrassment that overwhelms you is palpable until she offers you her workshop to play when your quarters are so overcrowded by your aids. You couldn't come to Snezhnaya alone for your safety, and it leaves you stranded without a moment of peace at times.

"Really?...and I can just, stay here? For as long as I want?"

"Isn't that what was offered to you?"

"Well...yes, thank you."

Scaramouche, whom you meet adjacent to Sandrone, is ill-tempered in the presence of others but a tad nicer when it comes to you. He does not drop his rough-around-the-edges personality to melt his heart out of his chest for you, but you manage to strike the perfect cord in his to gain liberties others cannot, having him share sweets with you. You learned at one point he really doesn't like them, leading you to wonder why they suddenly appeared ready and available for you to stuff your pockets full and snack on them when nobody's looking. You earn his favour through endearment and talk to him like he's normal because he is.

He is the child of a god, though in a different capacity to you. He was not loved quite so dearly by his mother and cannot share with you the pain of losing someone who treasured you. He was merely abandoned. There is the vague part of you that shuns the idea his softness is pity, sympathy even, as you're stuck stumbling through the world alone. It is all too familiar to him, and if candy will make you smile at him so cheerfully and hug him so tightly, then candy is a simple trade-off.

"Are you sure you don't want any? These are yours."

"Sickly sweet things make me feel like my teeth are fusing together. You can have them."

Pulcinella reminds you of home, the trinkets gathered on a whim that he keeps, the years showing through the rooms dedicated to him as you notice things your father told you of in stories. These are stories that Pulcinella will start off on without prompting, indulging your curiosity before you even lowered your guard enough to show it and casually enough that you slowly ask more. Every item holds a story: what it is, how he obtained it, why he kept it, who it was for. You see many such things around what used to be your house, but you don't know all of the stories, treasuring the ones you remember.

Pulcinella doesn't recall every story either, as some of your pointing and questioning is met with remarks of how long it has been. It is the only thing you feel you share with him, a living space filled to the brim with memories. Many of your trinkets don't belong to you, but his do, and it's nice to hear someone tell you stories again as he lets you pick from the collection of sweets in your pockets to eat when it suits your fancy.

"What about this? It reminds me of a lumenstone, the ones from the chasm."

"It is, and it came from Liyue when I asked that one of my subordinates bring it back for me. You must have a fine eye for these things."

"Not really, only lumenstone and noctilucous jade glow like this."

Arlecchino's offering to you is company, and plenty of it. Children who are so far removed from the stretch of news beyond the issues of the Steambird they manage to get their hands on that they wouldn't know your face from a haggler on the street. Father brought a guest to play with, and that's what matters as they induct you into their games, teach you the rules, and regard you exactly as they regard every other child their age. You are given the choice to simply become nobody, and you love it. Though you were once only a child, you were still the child of a god, and everyone knew it. Now, you elicit excitement only because someone new enters their lives, someone to learn about and befriend, merely a guest their father brought them.

Despite her sharp exterior, she is sweeter to you than you expected. You thought Arlecchino might be scarier, meaner, harsher, but she softens when she speaks to you. It is not with the cutthroat demeanour she holds speaking to the Harbingers and lacks a degree of the stern attitude she fronts to the children. You are not the average child, and it's necessary to treat you with some degree of respect, but you notice she's gentler with you than others, and it almost makes you feel special.

Columbina has sung you to sleep many times during your stay; her voice is sweet and more than enough to calm you. You let her hold your cat plush and dance with you in the hallways with the excuse you need knowledge of these things should you aspire toward being an archon, even if spinning around until you fall on the floor from dizziness and burst out laughing is a tad non-traditional. Columbina can see things others can't notice more than the human eye is capable of, and you'd rather not know what that's like. Something in the way she speaks tells you that it's hardly adjacent to anything human, closer to you, but still quite far off. It's interesting to hear the strange things humans have no business knowing.

Your hand is grasped in Columbina's, her fingers holding you tenderly. Her eyes are partly obscured beneath the lattice of a mask she wears. You're not sure if you could really call it a mask. She steps back, tugging you with her, and spins you in time with the steps she takes, each accompanied by a shift that forces you to keep up with where she moves, her other hand on your shoulder. It is the closest you will get to proper dancing, though merely a fool's waltz. You can't dance; being spun down a hallway while you struggle to match her movements feels much like you imagine a waltz would.

"It's not really proper dancing if we have no pattern to it."

"There is no such thing as proper dancing. If you'd prefer it, I could sing."

Dottore is someone you did not expect to be so open to the idea of you, and your assumptions were proven correct by his apprehension to engage with you. He is curt with you at best and avoidant at worst. You are a child filled with the yearning to touch everything that doesn't belong to you, desperate to hear too much about the things that don't concern you. You are young, needy, and with no concept of what is beyond you. Dottore's unique abundance of knowledge is appealing to you, however. He knows things your father did, many of which he didn't tell you, but Dottore will, so long as it gets you to sit still and stop interrupting him. You may be convinced you have pocketed your unnecessary emotions away, but he has seen you, and that is an insulting lie.

Your wants are written on your face plain as day, so long as people pay enough attention to you to care what you feel. He does not especially care, not for the child of a god, but it helps to know what you want to stick your nose in most. It helps to know how you benefit from him, and on luckier days, you might even catch him in a better mood when he is willing to indulge your interest in his knowledge. Your capacity to understand, let alone remember, hardly worries him.

"So you have clones of yourself? And they just...work for you?"

"Not exact clones—segments. They have wills of their own and use them as they see fit."

Capitano is strong, a man of few words, and he does not abhor your presence quite so strongly, nor does he indulge your more childish desires. What you get from Capitano is respect, the highest honour you can get from his book in your eyes, and it comes from your perseverance. You're running around working so hard when you're so young, and you deserve a break sometimes. You deserve a quiet place to curl up in the corner with that cat he's caught you hiding under where no one can bother you, and maybe with a few sweets you always seem to have these days. That corner still does not exist, though he will find you one if you want it.

You show no signs of slowing down, are energetic and eager and are far too committed to the act of being something you're not to listen to him when he tells you to rest. Gods must all be fickle. The most he can do for you is make sure you're safe and happy as you will be in your position, maybe wipe your hands of powdered sugar when you find pastries at the market you want and recklessly eat them without thinking of how you'll clean up short of wiping the remnants on your clothes, but you'll never do that as you are.

Pierro once made you nervous. He is a stern, serious man who never smiles. Pierro is steadfast in loyalty and never wavers, which is precisely what you have begun to aspire to be now that that is what has been asked of you. You could never hope to replicate the kind of dedication he has, and perhaps that is part of what sways you. Though you have become so comfortable behaving childishly around some people, you fear you may never be around him, whether because you fear his disapproval or yearn for his approval. Despite that, he is arguably who you trail around behind most, quiet, observing, trying to figure out how to copy and apply what he has to yourself.

It settles the quick realisation he reminds you most of what the people saw in your father. Someone like him is someone people envision fostering a nation to prosperity, and you fight your own subconscious to keep all of your slipping habits, making sure he never sees you sneaking candy, hiding your cat plush from him, refusing Tartaglia's every offer to play games around him. You're not sure why you think that will make him like you more, having long ago gained his favour, unable to notice the faint smiles and the conscious effort to make you believe he doesn't notice you out the window barreling snowballs at Tartaglia.

You are still a child at heart; he is just about the last person you can hope to hide that from.

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romanoffsbish · 9 months

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Easy to Love

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!R

Natasha can’t get enough of her pregnant wife 😋🍽️ | WC: 2,958

Smut: Lactation | Oral (R)

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha walked through the front door of your cottage with a heavy sigh, her body ached but she somehow managed to take a shower before she came to find her comfort. You were turned away from the door, putting away her laundry as you listened to your favorite song on repeat.

Your hips slightly swayed along, but there was a stiffness as you moved to indicate you were in back pain but persevering for her nonetheless.

——

The aching pain she felt faded into static as she waltzed up to aide you with yours, clearing her throat so as to not startle you with her touch alone. Her thumbs dug into the small dips in your back that made you fade into submission. She softly grinned against your neck as she felt the full lean of your body, and the vibrations of your moans against the imprint of her teeth.

Then she was back to the problems at hand, "What did the doctor say about resting detka?"

You hummed a playful tune, "That doesn't apply here my dearest one, because you see, I never tire of being your doting housewife."

"Pregnant housewife," Natasha pleads, and you sigh softly, "Who can do more than sit down, I promise you I'm not overdoing it my beloved."

Natasha's hot breath fluttered over the sensitive skin of your enlarged breasts and you felt her gently nod, she was waving her white flag, and then staking all of her green ones in your field of dandelions as she adjusted her stance, making your breath catch in your throat as you felt pure relief as your wife lifted up your baby bump. Holding up the boulder as if it weighed nothing and her muscles weren't already strained to the max as it was.

"Nattt," you went to weakly protest, worried about her own physical state, but she gently pecked your cheek and cut you off, "This is a partnership, so if you can take a load off of my back then so can I for you. Just relax honey."

Natasha chuckled as she saw her shirt crumble in a heap on the floor and heard your soft snoring only a few moments later. She knew it wouldn't last long, you'd likely wake with a start in seconds. So she cherished the moment and gazed down upon your smiling face, and admired the glow pregnancy gave to you.

"Let me see you," you grumbled tiredly, and she complied by lowering your bump, and holding you steady as you groaned in misery.

Then she stepped back to strip off her pjs, and you both gazed at the others exposed body. Worry filled yours as you took in all the nasty bruising overtaking her skin, but your wife saw the sidled relief when you let out a shaky breath as you saw she remained puncture free.

While you worried for her, she admired you.

Natasha knew it was borderline psychotic that all she could think about was how she wanted to have you spread open for her. Your bump was hanging low, layered with the stretched straps of your maternity panties and your nipples were covered by sticky nursing pads.

"You are so beautiful moya lyubov," Natasha coo'd as she looked you up and down, you rolled your eyes at her, but didn't try to refute knowing full well Natasha would argue back. The woman adored you just as you came, and would love to show you how much. You were the picture of undeniable beauty in her eyes, even if you didn't believe it, she'd show you.

Starting with moisturizing her face with your slick before she went to sleep, it'd been six days too many since she last had. You were apart of her post mission meal plan, and she's starved. She swore it's because you tasted different pregnant, not that you weren't heavenly before, but she just grew rather insatiable as of late.

"Detka," she purred and you quirked a brow knowingly. "Will you be gentle?" Natasha's darkened eyes softened, "Of course angel."

Natasha discarded her boxers, then she helped you out of your own before she guided you over to the luxury mattress. She surrounded your body with fluffy pillows, and used another more firm one to lift your hips. The redhead was at your side next, her eyes lovingly stared down into your own, then she kissed you dizzy.

Her hands caressed your breasts, and you cried out in perceived relief. The white nursing pads darkened and she obviously zeroed in on that, it was only seconds before she removed them and sucked one of your nipples into her mouth.

"Fuck," you groaned, hands flying to her hair to keep her pressed against you. Your supply was barely in, so the redhead only got a few pebbles but it was enough to drive her wild. "Mmm," her husky vibration was the cause of your increasingly dripping heat, the one she chose to explore while tending to your other breast.

Natasha's hand ventured beneath your panties to find a steaming goldmine of arousal, your pulsing entrance nearly abducted her curious fingers as she slid on by. Her curiosity was doubled, and just like that she was parting from your side with a breathless grin and an eager tongue. Natasha's hands caressed your thighs and you closed your eyes in anticipation.

You smiled more wholesomely instead as you felt her lips softly pressing onto your bump. It was a briefly repetitive gesture up until your heady scent called her lips home. Melodious moans that soon filled the room as Natasha's tongue entered you were just as glorious as the sloshing of your juices due to her lashing.

The redhead held no remorse as pleasurable tears soaked into the pillow beneath your head. Her only goal was the grand reward that came when you did, the warmth that gushed out of you and coated her throat always worth the wait, which as of late isn't long with just how sensitive you've become during pregnancy.

You were squirming, but the pillow that kept your hips raised left you unable to escape. Natasha loved every sound that left your body, whether it be the series of loud moans, or the more choked up mewls. It was all glorious, and ego-boosting enough for her to be satiated by your second orgasm that drenched her face.

"Nat," you croaked in a plea she'd already intended to answer. "I know moya lyubov'," she husked against the skin of your thigh as she was catching her breath and you hummed as her knuckles softly pressed into your sides.

The last thing she wanted was to hurt you or the growing infant, so she settled on gently massaging your bump as she continued to breathe in the sweet aroma of your cunt.

After a moment of calm the redhead slowly kissed her way up your body until she was hovering your face. "You okay?" You nodded with a dopey smile, and she met your lips with her very own after the adorable reassurance.

The kiss was sloppy, but sweet as she let you lead it, she relished in the way that you moaned at the taste of your very own essence. Then your stomach rumbled, and she was off.

"I'll be back in a minute, you need to eat too." You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, and as soon as she disappeared you wobbled off of the bed and returned to your previous task.

When the redhead reentered the room with a tray she groaned in frustration, "Detka, get back in bed, the clothes can wait for me until tomorrow." You sighed, "This was my load Nat, and you know I refuse to leave behind a mess."

"Please," she whined, and you knew then that she needed to care for you, and feel your warmth close by so that she could fall asleep.

"Fine," you sighed while dropping the folded shirt in your hand back into the bin, "Just this once I will leave a mess behind for cuddles."

Natasha rolled her eyes as she set the snacks down and once again you let her guide you into the bed, but you had already brushed away the pillow fortress so you could remain upright.

Natasha knew what you were doing, but after she made sure you were both fed she was truly too tired to intervene. Just the same as when you felt apprehensive intervening earlier.

There'd been no open wounds so you didn't push her to go to the compound. You never did, Cho and Bruce are only two blocks away, they owed you for their love, so they agreed to always be on call for her—or better yet you, Natasha was none the wiser to your intentions.

Your current ones were to read your book with your back against the hard headboard, and your lovers arm draped over your bump. Just like you always did after her missions. You watched the bruises on her body, eyes trained in on the shading to see if they're healing well, to ensure that her breaths remained even all night, and to hold her steady if she were to jolt.

It was the only way you could find peace, and you sometimes wondered if maybe she did know, but didn't want you to know she knew because then she couldn't enjoy the way in which you cared for her so freely. You knew it was true in the way she smiled at you every morning when you awoke just like this. Upper back slouched with a slipped book in your hand, and a sleepy-time scowl on your face.

Natasha first mirrored your scowl as she felt the guilt swimming inside of her chest. The budding of tears constricted her throat, and trapped her sobs. You'd woken up just as she jolted, but you protected her opportunity for absolute vulnerability. The redhead has cried in front of you before, but only sparingly.

The first time was after she spent an ungodly amount of hours drowning in you, and couldn't fathom how she'd been blessed to have you for the first of what quickly became many times. Natasha had lightly sobbed against your chest and you soothed her until she'd fallen asleep.

The second time was when you actually agreed to marry her after only being hers officially for six months. It was after a rough mission, one that nearly took her from you, and led her to drop down on her knees in a desperate plead.

The following day came with a cynical Tony's jokes about a whirlwind love story, but Natasha's eyes said this decision wasn't made on a whim. When you kissed her in front of your peers only weeks later, and tasted the salt of her flowing tears you knew it to be true.

Then the last time was when she held your pregnancy test after a long day, it was a beacon of hope when she'd just felt like giving up. The months of trying had finally paid off, you were carrying her child thanks to science, and she couldn't hold back her gratitude. She'd dropped to her knees and kissed the skin of your stomach, and you felt the tears soak into your jeans as you weren't even showing yet.

Each time she cried since she would shield her face, and muffle her sobs with husky grunts. You'd never called her out on it, you respected her need to feel like she was always tough, even if she knew you'd never consider feeling weak.

Her pridefulness was her own to manage.

You envision your daughter's arrival will be the first time she doesn't try to hide it. Because for the first time in her life she'll have someone she is responsible for molding into a functional human. That responsibility comes with the need to model healthy ways of emoting for her little girl to be well adjusted, and safe overall.

She knows better than most that those who end up the most vulnerable are the ones who didn't have the access to proper love and care. With the kind of parents that yelled, and harshly reprimanded their kids in the name of love instead of taught better with a gentle hand.

Natasha would do everything in her power, you know it, to keep your daughter safe from the world and its cruelest that prey on the loveless.

Your daughter will be loved without question.

Once you were able to hear Natasha's sobs had died down you began to stir, the book in your hand officially hit the ground, and the redhead peered up at you with that endearing smile. Her chin rested on your bump, and you bit your lip in awe at her beauty, you reached out and brushed the hair from her face. "Mornin'"

"Good morning moya lyubov'," she chuckled softly as she watched your body shiver in response to her deepened voice from sleep. All these years together and she still had you a swooning mess with an effortless rasp. There was just something so precious to her about these early mornings with you, it was as if nothing in the world could touch you two.

"Did you sleep well?" Natasha hummed a yes, and softly kissed the underside of your swollen belly, then she grinned as she felt a shockingly powerful kick. "Dobroye utro, printsessa."

"Nat, stop it, you two are absolute menaces together," you groaned, every morning without fail she would get your daughter riled up, and you would face the painful repercussions. All because you happily allowed her DNA to live within you do you now deal with warrior kicks.

"It can't be that bad," she teased, prepared for your snarky comment, but you only sucked in a harsh breath as your hand rubbed at your neck.

Natasha frowned, she only let you watch over her at night because she knew it grounded your anxieties, but the guilt she felt only increased whenever she'd see you wince like that. This time she couldn't let it slide, not when you were already dealing with pregnancy pains.

"You have to stop sleeping like this detka," Natasha scolded you softly as she sat up and moved herself directly behind you. "I'm okay Nat, really, I can't sleep until I know you are."

You felt a surge of guilt as your admittance made her body tense behind yours, but then you smiled as her lips pressed against the knots in your neck before her thumbs took over. It was heavenly, and your groans assured her of the magical hold she possessed over your body.

"That's why I turned in my resignation." Now it was you who tensed, defeating the purpose of her current massaging of your strained body. "Relax detka, stress isn't good for you two."

"I don't want you to giving up what you love Nat," you turned to face her, pout prominent enough for her to kiss it away with a soft smile. "What I love is you Y/N, and soon enough our little bundle of love will be here as well. The fight will go on without my aging body, my life is here now, with you, that's where my joy is."

Natasha pulled you in for a gentle kiss before guiding your face into the crook of her neck so that you could cry your relief out in the comfort of her warm embrace. "Let it all out krasivaya."

"How did I get so lucky with you?" Natasha shook her head, and ran her fingertips down the side of your face as she negated your sentiments. "I'm the lucky one here detka, I never deserved your love Y/N, but you gave it to me anyways and now I'll be blessed to wake up to it everyday until we're old and grey."

"You are insane," you scoffed and playfully nudged her shoulder. "I will never go grey!"

Natasha chuckled, "Oh yeah, silly me..."

"You are very silly," you doubled down, "No one is more deserving of kindness than you Natasha Romanoff, you've been through hell and back and kept a hold of your humanity."

Natasha's eyes welled with tears you couldn't see, yet again, but it was because you were too busy tracing circles over her racing heart as you spoke the sweetest words to ever grace her ears. "You are the easiest person I've ever had the fortune to love and I promise to remind you of that—even when you're old and grey."

You heard a sniffle, and immediately pulled back to see the red flush on your lovers raised cheeks. Her smile was brighter than anything you'd ever seen so naturally you mirrored it.

"I love you so much," she practically squealed as she pulled you in for a kiss that remained sweet for mere seconds before she slipped her tongue into your mouth and deepened it.

"Fuck detka, I can feel your wetness coating my thigh," she groaned, but then it didn't stop so she pulled back to see your widened eyes.

Natasha sprung into action. "I'll get the bag!"

"I'll finish the laundry," you echoed after and the redhead stared at you in bewilderment. "Detka! You can't be serious right now?!"

"Natalia, I will not bring our daughter into a messy home!" You harshly glared at her, and she swiftly made her over way to you, praying for your cooperation. "I'll call Wanda, you know she'll be glad to help. If we're lucky we'll even come home to her famous apple strudel."

"You're the smartest person I know," you squealed and pecked the redheads lips, then you winced as a contraction hit. "I hate you."

——

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zeezelweazel · 4 months

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Alexia Putellas & Mapi Lèon & Ingrid Engen| Once or twice|

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Orgy fic let's gooo

It stopped abruptly but I just wanted to get this first part out of the way, not much smut just the buildup

(sorry if there are mistakes, I'm sick right now)

Also I decided I'm going to write both of the ideas from my recent post ;)

TW: suggestive

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In general you've had fantasies about a threesome before, maybe something even more, but it was just that a fantasy. You never entertained the thought for more than a second especially after you started dating Alexia. The captain was more than enough to satisfy your desires and you did your job to do the same.

So, you don't really remember when you started having these thoughts.

That fuzzy feeling in your stomach and the heat gathering inside you. Heat that had you rubbing your thighs together and your head spinning.

Spaniards are very affectionate. At first you thought it was a stereotype but the more time you spend in Barcelona the more you know that it's definitely true.

Alexia was sitting on the couch, practically draped over Mapi's lap, while her best friend softly grazed at the exposed skin of her waist. It was just the two best friends cuddling absolutely nothing dirty but something in the way Mapi had spread her legs to accommodate Alexia while the captain's red hoodie rose up and exposed her midriff made your head fill with lust. The way Alexia would occasionally glance up at Mapi with her wide hazel eyes and how Mapi would sometimes squeeze Alexia's side and smile down at her was working working you up shamefully fast.

And then there was Ingrid. Seemingly cold and calculative, the Norwegian was not one to be so physically affectionate unless it involved her tattooed girlfriend. So your surprise was expected when you saw her embrace your girlfriend from behind with Ingrid's much taller form caging the spaniard in her arms. Ingrid's hand came up to Alexia's blonde hair and she tugged on it once. Then the black haired woman leaned down and said something that made Alexia giggle.

These are occurrences that would have every person jealous but for you it was the opposite. You didn't know how to handle yourself after the realisation, how to confront your feelings and tell Alexia about them.

You have thought about telling her more, especially now that these thoughts are plugging your head every day but you're anxious. About how's she's going to take it and what she'll think of you.

If you've been through countless scenarios in your head but none were close to what happened.

You're both sitting on the couch watching something on the tv when you suddenly burst.

"Mapi and Ingrid are acting weird with you."

Alexia looked at you, surprise evident in her face then a flicker of something else as she tilted her head.

"Weird how?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at how oblivious your girlfriend was. Surely she must've noticed the huge difference in behaviour.

"They're touching you a lot."

Alexia moves closer to you, your lips mere inches apart and you gulp.

"Does it bother you?"

You bite your lip knowing that this is your only chance to confess your feelings to Alexia.

"No" you sigh and close your eyes for a second "I... like it." Alexia smirks and finally leans down to connect your lips. When you pull back you're both breathless with your pupils blown wide.

"So..?"

Alexia grins at home cute you are. You still have no idea this was all planned. Alexia knows having other people join you is a fantasy of yours but she also knows you'd never tell her that. She decided to take matters into her own hands and it worked.

"Just leave the rest to me amor."

A few days and a lot of preparation later you find yourself and your girlfriend sitting on your car that's parked outside of her best friend's apartment. Alexia noticed your nerves and placed one of her hands on top of yours and rubbed the back of it with her thumb. You smiled at her and nodded, now appearing more confident than before as you opened the car's door.

Knocking on the door of the apartment you took a moment to look at your girlfriend as you waited for the other two women. Alexia looked so pretty, light make up covering her face, the pink crop top exposing her abs and the jeans she chose only made her ass look even better. You licked your lips already starting to feel that familiar tug on your lower stomach.

When the door opened Ingrid and Mapi smiled at you and urged you inside.

You've been to their apartment numerous times but still you were looking around as if you've never been here before, all to avoid looking at the other women. Ingrid was tired of the awkward silence so she decided to nudge Maria towards Alexia while she took a step in front of you and took your face in her hands. You got lost in her gorgeous blue green eyes so when Ingrid brought your lips together you gasped in surprise. You didn't take time to bounce back, immediately bringing your hands on her hips and pulling her in further.

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ellemj · 5 months

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Time & Temptation - Roommates w/ Benefits Pt. 2

Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Please read part 1 first if you haven't!

Summary: Living with Bucky Barnes just keeps getting more difficult, and it's been less than 24 hours. Now, he's unexpectedly sent out as backup on what was supposed to be your solo mission. What happens when you insist on putting yourself in danger, as you always do?

Warnings: profanity, mention of wet dream from part 1, teasing, strip club, mention of weapons (firearms), use of firearms, drive-by shooting, gunshot wound, jealous!Bucky, protective!Bucky, some use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires any other warnings.

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: I'm sorry for the long pause since posting part 1 of this series! I got caught up with life and had a lack of inspiration for writing this, but I found some motivation/inspiration the last two days so here it is, finally. I'll be better about pushing out the next few parts of this in a more timely manner. If you'd like to be added to the taglist you can add yourself using this Google doc. Please use it responsibly.

You really thought an early morning run was going to clear your mind. You thought you could drown the details of the wet dream in sweat and pain and never think about it again. So, you were especially pissed off when the make-believe sound of Bucky making you ask for what you want began replaying in your mind with every step that you took down the chilly trails. Tell me what you need. As you continue along the dirt path, you can almost feel his hands on your thighs. Fuck. You know it means nothing. It was just a stupid dream. It probably only came about because you ran into him in the kitchen last night. If you’d run into a big, purple, infinity stone-wielding cretin in the kitchen you would’ve been just as likely to have a wet dream about that, right? Well, maybe not. But you can tell yourself that in hopes that it’ll ease your internal rage over having a wet dream about your new roommate.

An hour later, you’re catching your breath in the elevator on the way back up to your floor. You tug your hair out of its snug ponytail and run your hands through it, massaging your scalp with your fingertips. You’re planning to take a nice, long shower, lock yourself in your room and do a little prep for the solo mission you have later tonight, and then meet up with Sharon for lunch. You repeat the plan in your head over and over as the elevator slowly carries you upward. It seems like a solid enough plan to help you avoid Bucky for at least half the day. Or so you thought.

You’re as quiet as possible when you unlock the front door, unsure if Bucky may still be asleep or if he’s even home at all. Of course, the first thing you see when you step inside is Bucky, shirtless and in the kitchen yet again. He seems to love that little space beside the kitchen sink. The sigh that leaves your lips is a little more audible than you’d intended it to be, and the way Bucky lifts his gaze to your direction and raises an eyebrow at you lets you know that he not only heard it, but he wants to know what it was about. You didn’t mean to blurt the words out, you really didn’t. But the way he stood there both last night and this morning, looking so fucking hot that it makes your head spin and your cheeks feel warm…you just had to speak up.

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” You ask exasperatedly. You push the door shut behind you and lock the deadbolt with a resounding click. When you look back at Bucky once more, he’s fucking smirking. You’re simultaneously annoyed and turned on, and all you want is a cold shower.

“About as often as you wear pants.” He retorts. You don’t miss the way his eyes roam over your figure, taking in your slightly disheveled post-run look. He takes a sip from the glass of water in his hand as he wonders how the hell you still look so put together after a run. Your hair is down and somehow looks perfectly windswept, your cheeks and nose have the slightest pink tint to them from both the cold weather outside and the heavy exercise, and your leggings are hugging your legs and ass so tightly that you may as well be wearing nothing at all. His gaze makes you feel like your skin is on fire and it sets off alarm bells in your head. You need to get out of here. You make a beeline for the fridge, pulling it open and retrieving a cold bottle of water before quickly exiting the kitchen again, refusing to give Bucky a second look. Once you’re in the bathroom, you waste no time stepping into a cold shower as fast as possible.

Bucky remains in the kitchen for another minute, almost laughing at his current living situation. The man has had only the most minimal associations with women outside of a professional setting for years now, and he sure as hell doesn’t remember any pleasurable interactions with women during his time as the Winter Soldier. Now, he lives with one. And not even just that, but he’s fucking attracted to the one he lives with. He created his own personal hell by suggesting you and Vision switch rooms, and now he has to deal with it. He tries to tell himself that you’re just physically attractive. He’d never like you on all of the levels needed for a relationship. He can’t stand the way you work in the field, you’re too unpredictable and too willing to put yourself at risk. It’s beyond frustrating. He could never like someone who doesn’t seem to give a damn if they live or die. So, he’ll focus on that. He’ll focus on that one thing until he finds enough things to dislike about you to make his cock start listening to his brain again.

You shut off your cold shower and quickly towel yourself dry before wrapping the towel snugly around your body. You didn’t last more than three minutes under the icy stream of water, but it definitely did its job. Your stupidly attractive roommate is the last thing on your mind now. Or at least he was until you realize you were so rushed to get away from him in the kitchen a few minutes ago that you forgot to grab a clean change of clothes to put on after your shower. Shit. You’re freezing your ass off so you sure as hell aren’t going to wait around until you hear his bedroom door shut. Without giving it a second thought, you glance in the mirror to make sure that the towel at least covers your ass before pulling the bathroom door open and stepping out into the hall.

Fucking hell. As Bucky stands in the hallway staring at you, he can’t seem to remember the one thing that he was focusing on to help dissuade his attraction to you. All he can focus on now is the way the skin of your neck looks so smooth and soft, the way your neck transitions seamlessly down to your collarbones, and the way your collarbones draw his eyes further down to your chest. He doesn’t let himself look any further once his eyes land on the cleavage that’s just barely peeking out over the top of the towel. His eyes flit back up to your face and suddenly, you don’t feel like the powerless one here. You’d think you would be feeling like the powerless one, given that you’re standing here in a towel and he’s between you and your bedroom door, but you don’t. You noticed the way he froze when he saw you, the way he couldn’t stop his eyes from tracing the curve of your neck and shoulders, and the way his eyes lingered on your chest a little longer than you would’ve expected. You have the power here. You straighten up a little and take a few slow, small steps closer to Bucky. He’s frozen right in between your two bedroom doors, so he’ll have to move out of your way or you’ll have to squeeze past him to get into your room. You’re sure he’ll move. You can feel your towel riding up your thighs and nearly exposing the curve of your ass with every step you take, but you fight the urge to tug it down, worried that the action would make you look insecure. Bucky stands firm in front of you, the eye contact between you two so intense that you wonder if he can see straight through you. God, you see why Sam calls him the bionic staring machine sometimes.

Just as you expected, Bucky turns and walks up to his own bedroom door once you’re just a foot in front of him. What you didn’t expect was for him to say something to you as you wrapped your hand around your own bedroom door handle.

“That’s twice now that you’ve tried showing me your ass in the past twenty-four hours.” His tone is calm and even but his words are taunting. You turn on your heel to see him standing in his doorway, facing you, and his blue eyes meeting yours instantly. You’re acutely aware of how short your towel is as it barely covers the curve of your ass, leaving little to the imagination. Apparently, Bucky’s well aware of it too.

“If you were nicer to me, you might’ve made it to three times, James.” You tease, pushing your bedroom door open and walking through it, refusing to look over your shoulder at him. It’s safe to assume he stole one last look at your towel-clad form before you shut your bedroom door and left him standing there with his cock as hard as it’s ever been.

---

Ah, fuck. Bucky rests his flesh arm on the inner wall of the shower and his forehead on his forearm, watching the water run into the shower drain at his feet. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you in that damn towel. Every time you took a breath, your chest would pull the towel up your thighs in the slightest bit. It was practically torture standing in front of you when you looked like that. He shakes his head and turns his chin up with closed eyes, letting the warm water splash into his face, trying but failing to wash the image of you away. He clenches his jaw and looks back down at his cock. Fully erect, and from what? Nothing. You barely did a damn thing. You just happened to be walking down the hallway in a towel, surely not even intentionally. You just forgot your clothes. But shit, the view from where Bucky stood is forever ingrained in his memory. The view and the way you said his first name like you liked the sound of it. He’d never heard you say his first name before. Hell, he liked the sound of it. But your fucking teasing? He didn’t like the sound of that. The way you insinuated, jokingly of course, that you would’ve continued finding ways to nearly show him your ass if he was nicer to you? Bullshit. This is all bullshit. Bucky desperately needs either a new place to live or a fan-fucking-tastic new method of letting off steam, before he says or does something stupid.

He wills himself to ignore his cock in the shower, and once he gets out and towels dry, he pulls on a clean pair of boxers and sweats. He utilizes the ages-old trick of tucking his boner beneath the waistband of his boxers so it won’t be as obvious when he inevitably runs into you again in the tiny apartment that you share. This time, he’s also sure to put on a t-shirt. Maybe him being fully clothed will inspire you to start wearing some pants. As he pulls the bathroom door open and heads straight for his bedroom, he thinks that maybe he should head out for the day, get away from here before he runs into you again and you have the chance to call him by his first name or nearly show him your ass for a third time.

You’re sitting on your bed, scanning dutifully over a few electronic files that Fury sent you regarding tonight’s solo op, when you hear Bucky finish up in the shower and quickly shut himself up in his room. Your mind starts to drift away from the task at hand as you replay his words from earlier in your head. That’s twice now that you’ve tried showing me your ass in the past twenty-four hours. Of course the little shit was keeping count. And the best response you could come up with was a tease. You scrunch your eyes shut and shake your head, attempting to clear your mind so you can focus on the mission details before you. This is not the time to be getting distracted. Tonight’s op is serious, and you’re going in with only two backup agents strategically placed in the club’s staff, so you need to be as prepared as possible and as on your game as you’ve ever been.

---

A not-so-innocent little black lingerie set adorns your figure, hugging your body in all of the right ways and accentuating all of your best features. You give yourself one last look in the tall mirror in your bedroom, making sure everything looks perfect, before pulling on a pair of black jeans, a black sweater, and then a black leather jacket over the top. You pull on a pair of sneakers before double-checking that your bag for the night is packed and ready. It holds a pair of black ankle-strap heels, body glitter, your most complimented perfume, your makeup bag, and a couple of choice weapons tucked away from prying eyes. You have everything you need to gain the attention of one particularly nasty underground vibranium dealer, Elias Leveaux.

In less than an hour, you’re downtown at the most high-end strip club in northern New York. It’s known for wealthy clientele, and it’s on SHIELD’s radar specifically because Elias is known to drop in at least once or twice a month. You’ve read enough about the guy to wonder why someone with so much money and such an illegal, secretive day job would choose to go to a strip club that’s more or less open to the public. You’d think he’d hire a few girls privately and enjoy his free time that way, but it’s like he gets off on the experience of being the richest, scariest guy in the place. So he goes, at least once a month, always sometime during the second week of the month, like clockwork.

The last thing you expected to see when you walk in the back staff entrance of the club is a text from Fury, letting you know that the plan for tonight has changed. It’s nonspecific and gives you absolutely no clue as to what might’ve changed, but you don’t have time to text him back and ask for clarification before you’re being directed to the dressing room and told that you’re supposed to be on the floor in less than five minutes. What the hell is Fury thinking?

Bucky initially thought that being called out for a last-minute op was a blessing. He thought it was exactly what he needed to get out of the apartment for a few hours and get his mind off of you. At least until he found out that the entire op centered around you. He breathes a heavy sigh as he stands outside the club, adjusting his black gloves and glancing at his watch impatiently. Sam is never late. Walker, however, doesn’t know how to be anything but late. Of course, Sam wasn’t going to be the one to wait around outside for Walker’s arrival, so he’s already in the club, seated somewhere at a table near the back wall to keep an eye on things. As Bucky continues to wait in the cold, he begins to wonder what kind of role you’re playing here tonight. Are you a cocktail waitress? A bartender? Fury didn’t give him much information when he called earlier, he simply said that the possibility of something going sideways tonight had escalated enough that he wanted extra hands on deck. Specifically, the undercover hands of the new Captain America, a super soldier, and America’s most hated: John Walker.

“I’ve got eyes on Leveaux, he came in through the private entrance on the west side of the building.” Sam’s voice reaches Bucky through his in-ear monitor, right as Walker is approaching.

“Sorry I’m late. Fury really doesn’t like to give us a heads up, does he?” Walker asks, clapping Bucky on the shoulder in greeting. Bucky shoots him a death glare and Walker quickly drops his smile and hand, remembering who he’s talking to. This is going to be a long fucking night.

---

When the lights go off and the crowd in the club gets quieter than it’s been for the last forty-five minutes, Bucky follows the turning of everyone’s heads to the stage. A few dancers have come and gone so far, a couple had the crowd going wild for sure, but whatever it is that’s coming next seems to have sucked the breath out of everyone’s chests as they sit on the edge of their seats with anticipation. Even Elias Leveaux has waved his henchmen away and he sits at his table close to the stage with all of his focus trained on the dark platform. When the lights on the stage turn on, they have a deep red hue to them. The low notes of a sultry song begin rumbling through the speakers in the club and as soon as the first bit of skin is visible on stage, Bucky’s mouth goes dry and his heart begins slamming against his ribcage.

Holy fucking shit. It’s you. You’re the girl that has the attention of every single man and woman in the club right now. You’re the girl dressed in the skimpiest little outfit that Bucky has ever seen. Even the bartenders across the room have their eyes on you. Bucky can’t breathe, he can’t move, he can’t think. You make it to centerstage and begin your routine seamlessly, transitioning from a suggestive dance in your heels to an all-out Magic Mike-level move that involves you crawling across the stage, perfectly in time with the music. When your eyes land on Elias, you maintain eye contact with him as you crawl forward, arching your back and flipping your hair over one shoulder. You watch as he adjusts himself in his seat and rests his right hand high up on his thigh, a tell-tale sign that he’s hard as a rock and it’s all because of you. You flash him an innocent smile before continuing your routine and scanning the rest of the club for his henchmen. You count two near the bar, and one near the main entrance. You’re two minutes in and nearly finishing up your routine, dragging your hands down your chest, over the see-through black lace corset that wraps around your ribcage, when your eyes land on the last person you need to be thinking about. Bucky Barnes. He sits at a table in the far back corner. You can’t even drag your gaze away from him long enough to see who else is at his table. Your eyes are locked on his as your skin heats up and the music fades away. He’s too far away for you to notice the way his jaw is clenched or the way a tent is forming in the front of his tactical pants. As soon as you’ve disappeared from the stage, Bucky stealthily adjusts his pants and composes himself before turning to Sam and Walker.

“What the hell? If this is what she does on all of those solo ops Fury sends her on, sign me up. I’ll be back-up for every single one.” Walker says, clearly not caring to hide his own arousal. Bucky imagines his fist colliding with the side of John’s face and it calms him a little before he speaks up.

“Say something like that again and watch where it gets you.” Bucky’s tone is like ice, sending a nervous chill through John Walker’s bloodstream and effectively softening the hard-on in his pants. Unfortunately, Bucky’s own hard-on isn’t going away. Sam isn’t paying any attention to the two men on his team, he’s instead focused on Elias Leveaux, who’s waving over one of his henchmen and whispering something to him. Bucky follows Sam’s line of sight and sees the same thing. The henchman quickly disappears backstage, going through a door labeled “staff-only.” This is either going to be exactly what you and Fury planned for or something that’s going to end badly, there’s really no in between. Your goal was to have Leveaux ask for a private dance, or at least approach you and make contact in some way. You need an in with him.

You’re just stepping into the dressing room backstage when a tall man dressed in all black, one that you recognize as an employee of Leveaux that was standing near the bar earlier, approaches you in a surprisingly professional manner. He keeps is eyes on your face, even though you’re still wearing an outfit that bares nearly your entire body for everyone to see.

“Miss, my employer would like a moment with you in private.” The man’s voice is low, and he keeps his tone hushed so the other girls in the dressing room can’t fully make out his words.

“Your employer?” You ask, easily playing dumb.

“Mr. Leveaux. He’s in attendance tonight and would like a moment of your time, if you’re free to meet with him now.” You pretend like you’re mulling over his words as you examine your makeup in the mirror.

“Should I change clothes?” You inquire, meeting the man’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. He gives you a small smile and shakes his head.

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” His answer gives you plenty of information. Elias Leveaux is interested.

Ten minutes later, you’re in one of the private rooms upstairs with the most ruthless vibranium dealer sitting on a couch in front of you. You’ve just walked in and already, his gaze is ravaging your body. He’s basically removing every little piece of your lingerie ensemble with his eyes alone.

“Mr. Leveaux…” His name leaving your lips brings his gaze up to your face. You study him for a moment. It’s the first time you’ve seen him outside of surveillance pictures in SHIELD files. He’s characteristically attractive, with a chiseled jawline and perfectly manicured stubble decorating it. His hair is black, so black that it matches the tattoos you can see peeking out from the collar of his button-up shirt. Your job is always easier when the bad guys are hot as fuck. “What can I do for you tonight?” You ask, an air of confidence surrounding you as you play with your hair and lean against the wall across from him.

“Come closer.” He says, cocking his head and spreading his legs slightly on the couch. He oozes confidence and masculinity, in a way that nearly makes you blush. You obey his command, and as soon as you’re within his reach, he grasps your hand and pulls you down to sit on his knee. “Tell me your name.” You’re learning very quickly that he never ends anything with a question mark.

“I don’t get your first name?” You ask, letting your left hand rest on his shoulder as his comes to rest on your bare thigh. He studies you in silence for a moment, ghosting his hand back and forth along your thigh as you stare back at him. The dim lights in the room and sultry music playing through the speakers only add to the tension.

“Come home with me tonight and you get anything you want.”

You made the decision on a whim. Knowing that Fury not only has an entire surveillance team watching everything that’s happening in the club right now, but that he also has Bucky and whoever is with him on site, you’re not very worried about what might happen. So, this wasn’t part of the original plan, so what? You were supposed to do whatever you needed to do to gain Elias’s attention because you needed an in with him. You needed to become someone he trusted so that you could eventually gain access to his phone. The original plan involved him noticing you tonight, maybe paying for a private dance the next time he sees you at the club, where you’d have the chance to drug him and access his phone to get the names and phone numbers of a few of his contacts. But as soon as he invited you back to his place, you knew that you could knock out the entire possibly months-long op in one night. So, you decided to take the chance. You stand on the curb now, with his long black coat wrapped tightly around your frame since Elias didn’t give you time to go back and put your clothes on over your lingerie. You didn’t want to risk bringing your bag anyway, not with your gun in it. Though you feel naked while not having a firearm within arm’s reach, you imagine this night would take a turn for the worse if he or one of his henchmen went through your bag and found a government-issued one.

Bucky stands with Sam and Walker inside the club, near the exit, as Sam tries to decide what to do in this moment. Sam sure as hell doesn’t want to let you leave with this guy, but no one has come up with a good way to stop you yet, not without breaking your cover. Everyone knows how stubborn you are, but they also know how good you are at your job. If you’ve decided to go home with Elias Leveaux, it’s unlikely that anyone will be able to stop you, while simultaneously being likely that you’ll successfully finish the mission on your own tonight. However, by leaving with him, you’re going to be taking yourself far away from any backup, from any chance of rescue should anything go awry.

After a few more seconds listening to Sam and Walker argue about a plan, Bucky sees the glint of a black car pulling up to the curb in the moonlight, and watches with silent rage as Leveaux’s hand dips down dangerously close to your ass before he reaches to open the back door for you. Fuck it.

“Y/n!” Bucky’s voice reaches your ears so unexpectedly that you freeze. You hope that he knows that your cover name utilizes your real first name, otherwise he just attempted to blow your cover. What a fucking ass. You and Elias turn around at the same time, with Elias taking one look at Bucky and then immediately looking over at you, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You mutter to Elias, thinking on the fly. “Just give me a minute with him, then I’m all yours.” Elias glances back at Bucky one more time before nodding at you and sliding into the back seat of the car. You stalk over to Bucky, doing your best to mask some of your anger, stopping just a few inches in front of him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Barnes?”

“Keeping you from getting yourself killed. You’re not leaving with him.”

“You might be a sergeant, but this isn’t the army and I’m not under your umbrella of authority.” You pair the words with a contemptuous stare, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. Bucky smirks at you and licks his bottom lip before shaking his head slightly.

“So, what then? You’re going to sleep with him, drug him, steal the info you need, and somehow get out of his house unscathed? With no backup?” Bucky asks. When he puts it like that, you have to admit that your plan does sound a bit foolish. But still, you won’t back down.

“Yeah, and you’re going to go back into the club and find someone else to take your orders, because it sure as hell isn’t going to be me taking them.” You spit back. You’re waiting for his next retort when his eyes flit away from your face, to the road behind you and a little to the left. He sees something. You’re about to turn your head to follow his gaze when suddenly his hands are on your hips and he’s spinning you around, slamming your back against the brick wall of the club. The long coat that Leveaux gave you earlier falls open just as Bucky presses his body firmly against yours, shielding you from the ricochet of bullets flying around the street.

You’re holding your breath. Bucky hasn’t felt your chest rise or fall even once in the last three seconds since he slammed you against the wall. He glances down at you and sees your eyes scrunched shut and your cheeks flushed.

“Breathe.” He whispers gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. You draw in a harsh breath at his reminder, and he feels your chest rise and push against his own. You both turn your head to the side as the dark car speeds off down the street, each of you quickly memorizing the make, model, and license plate number. Within a second after the first car has passed, Leveaux’s own car takes off after it. There goes your villainous one-night stand. “Are you hurt?” Bucky asks, still keeping you pinned against the wall. You shake your head, but feel something warm and wet against your right abdomen. When you look down, you realize it’s not your own blood turning your skin red, but Bucky’s, seeping through his shirt.

He’s been shot.

Next Part

TAGLIST (if there is a line through your user, Tumblr would not let me tag you)

@yourkenoughyk @charmedbysarge @gyokujyn @noonespecial90 @spngingerbread21 @sadeyes61 @edelweissbarnes @mayamacall @pigeonmama @imemeriebarnes @ladyvenera @buckbuckybuckaroo @torntaltos @urlocalpillowprincess @sagebarness @mrbobinskyfromcoraline @mrs-marc-spector @srlover40 @valhalla-kristin @lightsonnoonehome @sgtjamesbsdoll @charlottestarkey @phoenixstark1708 @samfreakingwinchester @claireelizabeth85 @mcumaniac @ordelixx @hellfirebabe @toasted-bones @dashis-posts @literaryavenger @ahlookatallthelonelypeople @fandomsfeminismandme @buckysbaby-doll @lissame @armystay89 @its-daydreamer23 @ziawbarnes @winterslove1917 @wintermischief @loveme121212 @mondaycomingdown @yujyujj @blackrigel @thescoons @violetwinterwidow01 @frombkjar @wheelsupkels @bubblevicioussss @mikisworls @itvy5601 @dawnissunnysideup @nevertrustapanda16 @obsessed-oops @coffeeshub

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

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weeknd-ogoc · 6 months

Text

4EVER・。.・゜✭・. LANDO NORRIS

SUMMARY: in which lando finally comes to his senses after seeing pictures of ferrari's golden boy and you. FACE CLAIM: claudia tihan CONTAINS: jealous!lando, unprotected sex, the guys being lando's therapist, some charles x reader, toxicness on both sides, some fluff and angst! AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's our king's 24th birthday! i felt like this was a bit messy but i hope you guys like it anyways!

lando had been in the worst mood all week after seeing photos on twitter of charles and you leaving a hotel in brazil, just last week. what makes matters worse was that you weren't answering any of his messages or calls and you hadn't stopped by to visit him like you usually did.

he kept looking at the picture of you on his lock screen of you smiling with a burger in your hand — he had planned to take you out to a fancy restaurant but forgot to make reservations so you guys ended up in a burger king parking lot, eating french fries and greasy burgers.

"this is like a date..." you had said as you shoved a french fry in his mouth.

he shook his head and finished chewing. "not a date, trust me i'd go all out for our first date."

that had been the very beginning of your relationship.

the two of you had started off as good friends — he had followed you on instagram after seeing a post of you modeling in lingerie for victoria's secret and just a few hours after you had followed him back.

a few months of talking nonstop, he had taken a serious liking in you so after a race he decided to hang around with daniel and he ended up showing him your photos.

"man if you don't fly her out for our next race, best believe i will." he had said as he continued scrolling through your photos. "how the hell did you pull her? if i wa-"

lando rolled his eyes and snatched his phone back from him. "first of all, you're so old you wouldn't even know what to do with all that."

two days later he had flew you to texas where lando spent most of the time showing you some cool places. he had invited you to stay in his hotel room and you gladly said yes since the two of you were friends but with all of lando's flirting he was finally able to pass the friendship stage.

after he had taken you to an amusement park, he had taken you to an empty parking lot where you guys found yourselves in the backseat of his mclaren — he had the top of your dress half off and his pants was unbuckled. "trust me when it does happens..." he mumbled in between kisses as he had two of his fingers deep inside you. "i'm going to rock your world."

a month later when the time came of lando “rocking your world” he had struggled to find a condom in his room while you were there laying completely naked, wrapped up in his blanket.

he went through every drawer he had but nothing. "i mean are you sleeping with anyone else?" he asked and you shook your head no.

"are you?"

"no, just you as of right now..."

"you don't have any diseases do you?" you now asked him and he shook his head.

the both of you stared at each other for a few seconds before he jumped into his bed and began roughly kissing you — he put the work in for a few minutes before busting a load right into you.

"that's never happened before..." he mumbled. "i swear i can last longer than that!"

“c’mon lando, i thought you said you were going to rock my world.” you giggled as he slid out of you. “pretty sure it’ll take longer than three minutes.”

“c’mon baby stop making jokes.” he whined as he hid into the crook of your neck. “give me a few minutes and this time i will.”

the both of you had considered yourselves as casual fuck buddies those first few months so whenever the both of you were coincidentally in the same town he was giving it to you raw since you were the only one he was being sexually active with.

“fuck you’re so wet…” he moaned into your ear as he thrusted up into you. "you feel that? it’s all for you, so hard just for you."

it was going good but then you started questioning the whole thing, making him also question if he was truly ready for a serious relationship with you.

"i just want to know if this will ever be serious..." you had asked him as you slid on one of his shirts and sat back down on his bed. "i mean its been a year already of doing whatever this is."

"i like what we have why ruin it?"

for months he was able to creep around that same question — until last week after you found out that he went to the club, which was fine you were able to go out also but he had a certain girl around him all night that wasn't you. by the next morning twitter had posted the pictures with this girl on his lap, kissing and hugging him.

when you went to go visit him later that morning he had a hickey on his neck that he supposedly didn't even know he had. "i was drunk but i swear nothing happened!"

he was lying and he truly felt bad for what he had done, you out of all people definitely didn't deserve that. he had tried to get close to you multiple times but you kept backing away from him.

you weren't dumb, you knew that he definitely hooked up with the girl.

after going back and forth you had began crying out of frustration. you wiped your tears with the ends of your sweater. "i mean i don't know, i thought i was the only one..."

"you are, y-"

he then received a call from oscar making him remember he had to go to the paddock for media day. "fuck, i have to go but please just wait for me here and i'll make it up to you."

you sighed as you grabbed your phone from his bed and stood up. "i'm actually meeting with someone later so i have to go but i don't know if i want to work this out this time."

unfortunately for him the conversation couldn't continue because he had started getting messages and missed calls so after his interviews he tried texting you whenever he could but you never replied, just leaving him on read.

he knew you probably needed some cooling down so he left it as is.

"i honestly think you fumbled..." max butted into the conversation lando was having with the group. "let it be known that before you y/n and charles had a little fling going on."

charles choked on the water he was drinking and glared at max.

"woah hold on, you and y/n?" lando asked charles as sat up straight. "has she texted you since we started talking?"

he cleared his throat as max smiled at him, already knowing the truth to that question. "um well it wasn't really anything too serious and we haven't talk-"

"but there was that time they hun-" max butted in again and earned an elbow to the arm from charles.

"there was a time that we hung out after some argument you guys had about you and your ex talking but nothing happened."

lando tensed up after that he remembered that fight, you had left his house that day and didn’t talk to him for a whole week. he made sure to send you flowers and gifts throughout that week as an apology.

he knew he had no right to be jealous of you hanging out with charles. you were obviously allowed to have friends and hang out with whoever you wanted but he now understood how you felt when he would talk to his ex girlfriend.

"she made me cookies once, i love her!" daniel then announced as he looked up from his phone. "and i think you love her too but you're scared of telling her that, why is that?"

"i'm not scared it's just cause she makes me nervous, she makes me feel things that i don't want to be feeling."

"like?"

at this point lando knew he had strong feelings for you too, except his feelings might've been a little different than yours so maybe that's why he did what he did.

lando groaned before putting his head down into his hands. "well maybe because i love her and i feel like i could may- potentially marry her or something along those lines." he quickly muttered out. "i hate these stupid feelings."

daniel smirked and patted his back. "there you go buddy."

now he had finally realized why he was scared of commitment because you made him really think about his future with you, his whole life he wanted to be a formula one racer and he knew that getting married and creating a family was supposed to be for after but you made him change his mind about that.

that had been a week ago and since then lando was pissed.

"yes it was wrong for charles saying it was nothing serious and later that day bringing her to his hotel room but i mean she did tell you she didn't want to work it out anymore." max told him over the phone. "just let her go man."

max saw the way lando looked at you with hearts in his eyes whenever you were around but he also knew you were starting to get inside of lando's head, he was no longer thinking of his career the way he used to because of you.

"you're only saying that because you don't like her..." lando said as he sat himself on the couch and hugged on a blanket that you had gifted him for when he traveled. "if it was luisa, you would've told me to get her back."

"i do like her but i just feel like this is all happening so fast."

he continued to listen to max's rant as he went to go open the door after hearing someone knocking.

"just a few weeks ago you were just hooking up with her and now it's you're in love with her."

"umm max, i'll call you later."

before max could even register his words, lando had already hung up and was now looking at you standing in front of his door.

the both of you hadn't spoken for almost two whole weeks and now here you were — your hair was perfectly curled, you had on his sweatpants that he left at your place awhile back and a hoodie on.

"you look beautiful..." he mumbled as he opened the door wider for you.

and instead of going right in, you wrapped your arms around him and he immediately wrapped his around your waist. "stop lying, i look homeless."

he chuckled before hugging you even harder. "even so, you still look beautiful."

you softly pinched his back at his joke and after you guys ended up in his living room, he held onto your hand not wanting to ask you about charles because he didn't want to risk that possibility of losing you to him.

but he had to.

"i saw the pictures with charles in brazil, did you..."

the truth was that you had gone to charles's hotel room because he wanted to talk to you about lando and at the moment you didn't so you had kissed him — charles kissed you back but before it could have gotten any further he stopped it and rested his forhead onto yours.

"are you and lando over?" he asked you.

you shrugged your shoulders. "i think so."

charles had grown to love you in the short time of knowing you but he knew you always went to him to get back at lando in a way.

"you know he loves you right?" he sat up and sighed. "daniel was able to get it out of him."

when you didn't say anything, he knew you what you wanted in this moment. "go, i'm sure he's probably waiting for you."

yet, you didn't go and instead you kissed him again.

"if he did love me, he wouldn't have done what he did." you whispered.

charles knew that he shouldn't let it get any further since he knew you were most likely going to go back to lando after all of this and it'll leave him heartbroken once again but if he could have you for just this short time, he'd take it.

"no of course not." you told lando and he sighed before hugging you.

"promise?"

you nodded. "i promise that's all that happened."

lando wasn't dumb, he knew that you had definitely hooked up with charles.

he just wasn't going to say anything about it.

before the both of you knew it, lando was once again inside of you — one arm on the side of your head and the other on your waist, his hips moving in hard thrusts.

"i love you, you know that right?"

you moaned out a little yes. "i love you too, so much..."

"i'm going to marry you, i swear and give you babies..." you nodded along as he continued to thrust into you. "we're going to be together forever."

you nodded knowing his words were true while creaming around him and he pushed into you with a final groan. "forever."

thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!

f1 and f2 masterlist!

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strawberryya · 5 months

Text

Santa baby

pairing: choi san x fem!reader

synopsis: Christmas is coming around, and you decide a new outfit is in its right place - for you and your boyfriend of course. Will he like the holiday themed outfits you have picked out enough to give you a couple needed gifts in return?

word count: 3.4k

genre/cw: SMUT, cosplaying Santa for devious purposes, idol au, establish relationship, softdom!san, sub!reader, a slight voice kink, use of sextoy, unprotected sex, cockwarming, oral sex - both recieving, borderline cumplay, soft aftercare.

rating: 18+

a/n: surpise @millennial-fangirl! I'm your cod secret Santa! I'm so sorry this took forever to finally post, but I hope you like it nonetheless!!

network tagging: @cultofdionysusnet @svthub @k-labels @kvanity-main

How would San react to the slutty reindeer outfit? Would he think the tail was cute? You imagine the look on his face as he opens the Christmas present you are trying to pick out. Usually, he would be the one deciding what you would dress up as. This year you want to try something new, you want to surprise him with a sexy new outfit. For him.

When you see the sexy Santa outfit hanging neatly on one of the rows of the toyshop, you can’t help yourself. It was so perfect. Tiny red briefs in velour, black gloves, and a matching belt… you figured that the belt had other purposes than holding up the nonexistent pants. You want to see San in the skimpy outfit. You need to see how it would fit snuggly around his large cock, and experience the feeling of the leather gloves when they meet your plush skin.

You are getting too excited just thinking about it, and Christmas Eve is still a whole week away. Pulling yourself out of your thoughts you take a set of the skimpy outfit for San and continue browsing.

Maybe you should get something for yourself as well? You debated it for a bit, looking at all the different seasonal and general costumes. You had quite a few at home already, with San loving to dress you up you had tried on quite a few over the years. When you spot the matching Mrs Santa Claus set you realize what needs to be done.

After all, he needs something pretty to look at too. This was his present after all. You could hear his seductive voice as if he stood right beside you, “Such a pretty whore, all dolled up for me on Christmas Eve.”

You imagine his smirk as he sees what you have planned for him. Your stomach flutters with anticipation at the thought. He likes to be dominant just as much as you love being his submissive, but sometimes you want to be the one taking the initiative, the one to take control. Picking out the sluttiest Christmas outfits for the two of you as a Christmas gift felt like the perfect opportunity for you to do so. You get to choose what and how it is going to be done. At least, that’s what you have in mind right now.

Before leaving the store with your new costumes, you ask for a good recommendation from the staff for your third surprise for San. A vibrator, just a small little thing that you could use as a helping hand to make him feel as good as possible. You don’t use toys on him very often, but why not? They always make you feel good. You decide to try it out this once.

The gifts are wrapped in red and gold when Christmas Eve comes around. After a week of thinking daily about how to go about giving him the gifts with the best result, you decide to put on your own outfit and hide it under your pajamas until the right moment.

San had not had the day off. The life of an idol could not be put off even on holidays such as this. You watch his performance on your TV as it airs, fixing your boobs in the lacy bra one last time before covering up with your Christmas pajama shirt. There was a matching velvet choker, but wearing it could ruin the entire surprise, so you decide to hold off on putting it on until later. The show was a holiday-themed special, San was acting even cuter than normal, fitting right in with his group members as they danced and pranced across the stage in their snowman outfits and reindeer headbands. It is adorable, you can’t deny that.

San has some serious talent when it comes to hiding his dominant streak. The cute cheek pokes and eye smiles almost convince you that he isn’t the same man who had ordered you to choke on his cock just a couple of nights ago. You had gladly done so of course, but it is sometimes hard to believe they are the same person.

The door slammed shut, making you almost jump out of the couch where you were sitting while waiting for San to arrive. He seems agitated as he drops his bag on the floor. He falls onto the couch the moment he sees you sitting there looking pretty and soft in your red and white checkered pajamas. His head buries itself in your thighs, making your cunt clench a bit, but innocently enough for you to chuckle it off as you begin patting his head. “What’s wrong Sannie?”

“Too much cuteness, can’t do it anymore. So, so tired.”

He groans into your thighs after looking over to the TV and noticing that you are watching his performance. “Please, turn that off, I really cannot look at that anymore.”

You chuckle but shut off the TV. “Rough day then, huh?

“Very. But I am free now~,” he says, suddenly sounding a bit more cheerful, his sharp eyes looking at you instead. Arms folding to hold his head up, his biceps balancing on your thighs. He looks so charming, you think. Leftover makeup is still sparkling on his cheeks and in the corners of his eyes. You wipe his cheek gently, “I have an early Christmas present for you. Maybe that will cheer you up and get you in the holiday spirits?”

San gives you a pleased smile in return, pulling you down with a gentle hand to kiss you softly. He tastes like chocolate chip cookies. It made you not want to pull away, but the thought of finally seeing his reaction to his gifts finally won over the pleasure of feeling his lips on yours.

You run to fetch the box from under the tree that you had decorated together a couple of weeks ago. The shiny red and gold paper is glistening in your hands when you excitedly hand it over to San. You position yourself next to his legs on the soft carpet, looking up at him with so much hope in your expression. He’s sitting up now, the sweats he had worn when getting off work showing off his dick-print, it feels a bit like he is teasing you even though he doesn’t know it.

“What is it?” San asks, eyebrows curiously knitting as he picks up the rather light package he had seen under the tree for a couple of days now.

“You can’t ask me that! Just open it!”

He doesn’t waste any time ripping the paper open after that, the red and white fabric soon appearing to the both of you. San picks up the gloves, the briefs, the hat, and the collar. There is nothing more to the outfit, it’s honestly even less fabric than what you have on underneath your pajamas… You watched his face turn from a small smile into a dark smirk.

“Are these for me, baby?”

You nod, meeting his piercing gaze. Heat spread across your skin when San stood up without a word, throwing off his shirt, picking up the tiny Santa collar, and putting it on without much effort. He had practiced putting variations of these on your neck for years, and it wasn’t much harder adorning his own neck with one.

His proportions always stunned you, and seeing him so causally pulling his pants down to reveal his large bulge sitting prettily in his boxers made your mouth water. His body is seductive, that was the only way to put it. The small red and white briefs are quickly pulled on, and you can’t help but be a bit sad that he was putting on more clothes right now, even though you loved seeing him try on his Christmas present just as you had planned.

“Will you hand me those, love?” Obediently you hand over the black gloves and the hat he pointed toward, earning a “Good girl,” from San. The way his voice isn’t hiding the smirk behind those words is making your walls clench around nothing. He is a vision when he stands towering above you, your eyes flickering over the details of his body. Gloves snuggly hugging his hands, arms veiny just like the pretty part right above the edge of the snug briefs. He has gotten so big during the last couple of years, his broad shoulders make you want to throw your arms around him, inviting him to do whatever he pleases tonight.

“You like what you see, don’t you?”

“Very much, San, I like it a lot,” you agree, gaze still wandering between the different parts of his body.

He scoffed, “Don’t you think you’re enjoying yourself a bit too much? Have you been a good enough whore this year to act this shamelessly? And you know very well that it’s Sir.”

You suck in a breath. His stern, but teasing tone made your heart beat faster. Not to mention the way his gloved hand has begun fondling his clothed cock.

“I have been a very good whore, Sir.”

“Oh, really?” San flirts, a smirk growing wide on his lips when you begin unbuttoning your shirt. You look down, intimidated by the way he watched you, embarrassed about having planned this entire thing out as a Christmas gift. When the red fabric covering your breast begins to show he bends down to your level on the floor, a leather-gloved hand lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him while you pull the rest of your pajama shirt off.

“Be a good girl and keep your eyes on me, won’t you?”

You do as he wishes. Your breath is shallow as you let him inspect your figure, still kneeling on the floor in front of him. Your tits are barely being held back by the red lace. You wait until San nods with approval at your new lingerie. He sits back down on the couch, your gaze catching the way his bulge has grown even more.

“Are you all dolled up for me, baby?” He asks, not expecting any answer. “Will you show me the rest of your outfit now?”

You were reminded of the collar you had hidden in your pocket, pulling it out and handing it over to San submissively. “Could you help me put it on, Sir?”

With a swift hand, San helps you snap the collar in place. The golden bells that adorn it ring prettily as you run your fingers over it. His touch lingered on your neck, the warmth of his hand chasing chills right down to where the heat had begun pooling between your legs. Without a word, you stand up. Carefully pushing down your pants to reveal the last piece of your outfit. The lace is already sticking to your wet lips. It’s a lewd sight, the fabric covering almost nothing, your bra making your tits look like they were about to burst the tiny thing open at the seams, and the collar ringing softly as your breath moved your chest.

”Like it?”

“Of course I like it. You have indeed been a good little whore this year,” San responds, his eyes meeting yours with hunger. “Come here, pretty girl.”

You straddled him without hesitation, needy for his touch. San’s hands quickly find your curves, gently caressing you with familiarity and need. His erection presses deliciously against your cunt, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

You kiss down his body, eager to please him with your mouth when you remember that you have almost forgotten about the third gift. “Wait! I have one more thing,” you mumble, getting yourself off from your confused (and horny) boyfriend. When you returned with yet another gift in your hands San doesn’t hesitate for a second to rip it open to see what could be more important than an orgasm right now. The tiny red vibrator that he unwrapped was a good answer to his questions.

“For you?” he asks.

“No, for you.”

San’s eyes widen when you take the vibrator from him. You had made sure it was ready for use right away. Proud to have prepared so thoroughly, you giggle a bit as you start kissing up his thigh, knees firmly planted on the carpet again, hands fondling San’s erection. It’s fun challenging San’s authority in this way. His hard cock smacks up against his abdomen when you pull down the fabric covering him. He groans above you as you lick along his needy shaft. You let your saliva drip down, sucking gently on his reddened tip. One of your hands works at the base of his erection, and the other fiddles carefully with the vibrator. A slow buzzing sound melts together with San’s pretty sounds as you press it against his hip, slowly dragging it toward his hardness. You hollowed your cheeks, letting the vibrations of the toy go through his hardness, softly at first.

He jerks up into your mouth, his body fighting to regain control over the situation. With a firm grip, he pushes your head down further on his needy cock. He’s lost in the chase of his own high, the way you are gagging around him only taking him closer to the edge. Your pussy clenches uncontrollably, even when he isn’t ordering you around with words. His actions always manage to give him the upper hand in these situations. He cums down your throat with a series of moans, so pretty you almost begin detesting the vibrator for giving off any sound at all that distracts your ears from hearing him. You let him fuck your throat until he pulls you off of him, teary-eyed and heaving for air.

“So good for me, fuck-” he gasps out. He looks down at you, hands desperately clinging to his thighs, your nipples having been pushed up above the edge of your tiny bra, hardened and suckable. Cum is dripping from the corner of your mouth, he reaches up a gloved hand, wiping it up only to order you to open your mouth once again. You lick the tiny amount of spilled cum from the black leather.

You are becoming needy. As much as you love pleasing him, you crave his touch too. Will he grant your wish if you simply ask? It was always a gamble, whether or not he would continue to play with you or please you like you needed.

He was always careful not to move too fast, loving to tease you and play with you until you were ready to take him inside of you. But after preparing for the surprise and wearing the sexy lingerie while lounging around, and then seeing just how quickly San had slipped into the usual dynamic between the two of you, you felt like you could take him with ease.

To be completely honest, you are more than convinced that you can take him. Your cunt aches for him.

“If you don’t stop wiggling your ass like that I might think that you’re already ready for me to get a taste of that sweet pussy,” San smirks as he watches your thighs squeeze together in search of some relief.

“I’m ready for you, Santa baby.”

“That’s cute,” he scoffs, “You seem like an eager little whore today.”

He gives you a look of mischief. An expression you love seeing, since it tells you that he has made his plans for what to do with you next.

“Can you lay down for me, pretty girl?”

You rise from the floor and position yourself next to San, your pussy available for him to use as he sees fit. The black leather gloves he still wears touch down on your soft thighs, helping you spread your legs for San to see just how wet you have gotten. With a swift finger, he pulls your red panties aside, watching as your folds spread beautifully. Slick and glistening.

He hums, “Such a sweet pussy you have, baby. I just can’t get enough…”

You gasp as he dives in for a taste, finally giving you something to help satisfy your urges. His tongue swipes at your pussy lips, lips kissing your clit, eyes closed, and his moans reveal just how much he’s enjoying himself as he eats you out.

A warm feeling spreads throughout your body when he sucks on your clit as a finger or two begin slipping into you and curling against your sensitive spot. He has a talent for making you cum fast, and hard. You are grinding up against his face when your first orgasm washes over you.

He works you through it, kisses against your inner thighs and a calming touch making sure you ride it out until you are panting and begging him for another.

San’s eyes shine at the pleading sounds. “My very own little whore, so desperate for cock.”

“Please… just one more!”

“I need to give you something back for this wonderful Christmas present, don’t I? A couple more orgasms sound like a good idea to me,” he says as he pulls you up by your arms, and with your assistance, you are now straddling him as he kisses you. He doesn’t taste like chocolate chip cookies anymore, now he tastes of you. It makes you feel dizzy.

You slip onto his hard erection, taking him in with a moan. He helps you start bouncing on his lap, the bells around your neck ringing softly as he stretches you out. The gloves aid him in holding a steady grip around your hips and thighs as he lifts you as much as he can while simultaneously watching your pussy coating his cock in your slick. His muscles become even more defined with each curl. You can’t take your eyes away from him. You whimper that you are close, and in response, San reaches down to pick up the tiny vibrator that lies next to him on the couch.

He presses the toy against your clit, your walls contracting around his length at the sensation. You are coming undone within seconds, but he doesn’t remove the vibrations, overstimulating you until you are squirming on his lap. Nails clawing at his bare, sweaty shoulders, and walls squeezing him uncontrollably.

You didn’t mean to come a second time, but when you go silent, and your entire body tenses against him San knows that he has succeeded in returning the favor. He cums inside of you, filling you up, eager to see it run out of you. He would’ve eaten it out of you, but you are already spent. Next time, he decides.

With a soft hand, he removes the toy from you, a gentle touch soothing your clit while you whimper at how sensitive he has gotten you. He lets you calm down, his cock softening inside of your warmth, just how you like it. It makes you feel close to him when he lets you feel him like that.

“I’ll go get some towels, could you stay right here for me baby?” he says, soft voice feeling like a warm blanket around your exhausted mind. You nod and slide off of him, missing his warmth the moment his arms let you go. He comes back with damp towels and water, making sure you’re cleaned up completely, and that you drink the entire glass of water before he finally forces you on your feet so you can go to the bathroom. He has taken the Santa outfit off, instead, he’s dressed in the nice grey sweats from before and a simple t-shirt. He dresses you in your softest pajamas and gives you new underwear. He patts your hair while he snuggles up next to you in your shared bed. The lights from the Christmas tree shine their warm light all the way to the bedroom. You let San take care of you completely, falling asleep in his warm embrace after having begged him for at least ten kisses.

“Thank you, that was a really nice present, baby.”

You smiled a drowsy smile, “I’m gonna have to think up something for New Year’s now because I wanna do this again…”

“Maybe I could be the one to surprise you, I have some ideas already,” San said and pulled you even closer, fingers running softly across your back.

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

#codn: santa23 #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #choi san smut #choi san x reader #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #san smut #san x reader #choi san #atz san

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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avatar-anna · 3 months

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i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

#harry styles #hockey player!harry styles #hockeyrry #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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loveandmurders · 6 months

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You belong to Ambrose I (poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Hey everyone, I'm happy to finally post the first part of this imagine.

I really hope you'll enjoy it <3

Warnings: no proof reading, a few strong words, angst, dangerous!Lester, mentions of violence, blood and murders, morally grey reader.

“Hey, mom, what do you think Ambrose looks like now?” you heard yourself asking your mother without even meaning to.

The woman sent you a quick glance before her attention went back on the food she was preparing on the kitchen table.

“Why?” she sternly asked back and you tried to shrug it off, no matter how embarrassed you were starting to feel about the whole conversation you just brought up.

“Don’t know. I’m just planning a road trip with friends and we’ll go close back to where Ambrose is…was. I noticed it wasn’t even marked on maps anymore” you explained and your mother hummed

“Then you got your answer. Ambrose must be gone.” she said “Like the brothers you used to love so much” she replied and sent you another look, as you glanced down at your lap, in shame.

You should have known better than to talk about Ambrose to your mother. The woman had always wanted to pretend it had been a terrible nightmare.

“Mom…” you whispered

“I’ve never understood why you were so fond of them. Your dad either. They were a terrible influence on you. I’m happy you decided to burn the bridges with them and that you never went back to Ambrose. There was nothing for you there. And those people were troublesome and violent and… freaks. You deserved way better than them.” she continued and you resisted the urge to take their defence. They weren’t freaks, they were… a great part of your life and now a great hole inside your chest. “What was their name again?” your mother asked.

“Sinclairs” you instantly replied before biting your tongue

“Ah yes. Well, I’m glad you didn’t become one” she continued and you frowned at that.

“What do you mean, mom?” you wondered with a tilt of your head

“The eldest one, when he came back to Ambrose after his mother died and that he was sent away for a few months, and before his dad died that same day, he looked for you. He knocked at our door. Thank God you were away with your dad then. I told him to go away and he assured me that he would never go away from you, and that you would become his wife one day too.”

“His… wife” you whispered, your heart aching.

Bo was indeed often speaking about marrying you and sharing you with his brothers, but you always thought there were only words; the Sinclairs never really planned out their future. Bo was too obsessed with cars and getting free from his family to care about anything else. Vincent was too focused on his art. Lester was just a lost kid wandering into the woods late at night. You hadn’t thought they were actually seeing you as their future. You always appeased Bo, you always brought Vincent back to reality, you always helped Lester feel like he was part of something.

“To be honest” your mom resumed and your attention went back on her “with the amount of time you were spending with him and his brothers, I was really worried you would agree on doing something that stupid. And even though you left Ambrose heartbroken and sobbing, I’m happy something happened between you, him and his twin, that day. I don’t know what it is, but I knew it convinced you to leave.” she continued and you didn’t answer. The memory of that day was still burning you to the core.

You had been so happy so see Bo and later on, Vincent. You had run into their arms and they had hugged you with fierce love. You were all planning on getting Lester back too.

And then, Bo killed his dad and Vincent told you he was going to continue the House of Wax, the way his mother always did. You knew about the murders, you knew people were beneath the wax, but you never said anything because you loved the boys. And despite how an awful mother Trudy was, she liked you. You were a girl, and she could finally chat around with what looked like a daughter to her. Victor was also a little more careful around you. You were loved by the Sinclairs, and they couldn’t explain it; it just happened.

But their love was dark and violent, and you couldn’t agree to live like that; you couldn’t stay in Ambrose when everything was dying around and you couldn’t live from murders. You promised yourself to never betray your boys, but at the same time, you left with your parents without a goodbye. You knew that if you decided to go see the twins one last time, they would convince you to stay and it couldn’t happen. You never recovered from the fact you didn’t see Lester again before leaving and you hoped Bo had been able to bring him back home. You were certain he did though, because his people were the only thing that mattered to him.

You were about to leave the kitchen when your mother called your name and you turned around, with a raised eyebrow, silently asking her what she wanted.

“Do me a favour and stay away from Ambrose during your little road trip, okay?” she said with a hint of concern in her voice

“You said yourself that there is nothing there anymore anyways” you replied, a little bit surprised by your mother’s attitude

“I know but… I don’t want you to tempt the devil” she replied and you only found yourself nodding.

You wondered if by the devil she meant Bo.

Bo knelt in front of a woman he just killed. She was the last one of the group and he was glad about it because he felt quite tired now. It was too hot today to play hide and seek with assholes. At least, the night was already casting its shadows around Ambrose and bringing with it a little bit of fresh air. Bo looked down at the woman, tilting his head to the side as he watched the pretty necklace she had around her neck. It was slightly covered in blood but he was pretty sure he could wash it without trouble. It looked expensive; he was certain the glitter coming from beneath the blood was a little diamond. He took it off her body without a care and pocketed it before Vincent could use this jewel on his next wax statue.

“Y/N would’ve liked it” Bo hummed to himself before sadly sighting. His throat tightened as always when he was saying your name out loud.

Whenever he was spotting something that reminded him of you, he was always grabbing it and putting it away, in a box filled with gifts for you. He never stopped hoping that one day he would be able to give you this box. You would realise how much you were loved then; but so far it only happened in his dreams. And yet, he was thinking about you everyday of his life and he still believed you would come back home one day. He was certain you were meant to be a Sinclair; even his parents were liking you so it had to mean something. He missed you so much, he missed your laugh and he missed the way you loved his brothers and himself. Ambrose was empty without you. Life had always been shit, but your absence was torture. He had thought that after a few years, the pain would subside, but it really didn’t. It often felt like it was actually growing up inside his chest. You left with a piece of themselves, you left with the only sun and happiness the boys truly felt. He knew his brothers were feeling the same, because everytime they were all eating together at night, the conversation always ended on what you became. And on why you never came back.

They could guess you were disapproving of the killing, but they couldn’t stand the idea that maybe you got scared of them. They couldn’t even say it out loud; you were the only thing they would never have hurt.

Bo sighted again as he grabbed the woman by her ankles and he started to pull her to the house. Vincent came upstairs when he heard a body being dragged on the floor and he helped his twin out. Vincent could tell by the look in Bo’s eyes that he was thinking about you. It was the only moment Bo was utterly silent too, lost in thoughts.

Vincent couldn’t blame him. He had hundreds of books filled with drawings of you. Whenever he thought that he would never hear your voice again, never feel your touch on his skin anymore, Vincent was drawing you. He was certain you existed that way, and he was certain he would never forget about what you looked like, even if he knew your figure and face were carved inside his chest and brain. You used to caress the bad side of his face and to remind him he was handsome, even in front of Trudy or Victor. You had never been afraid to show yourself with “the freak”. And his skin felt so dry and painful now your fingers hadn’t traced it in years.

The twins worked in utter silence and none of them felt hungry that night, so they went to bed earlier than usual. None of them slept actually, simply staring at the ceiling or at the wall, wondering where you were and if you were happy… without them. They wanted you to be happy as much as they wanted you to be miserable without them, because it was their only chance you would one day come back home.

Lester wasn’t better than the twins. And if Bo fucked with some girls, Lester just couldn’t even think about touching someone else than you. It felt wrong to him. He promised you he was yours and only yours after all. He had always enjoyed how a little bit possessive you were with the three of them. Lester wasn’t certain of a lot of things, but he knew he belonged to you. You had always loved them equally, giving them the love they were all craving so much.

You were always in Lester’s mind. He was always hoping to find you among a group of tourists, to be fair. He never stopped looking for you and hoping to see you again. You belonged to them too, so he couldn’t understand how you could live away from them. And he knew that if he ever found you again, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock you up somewhere if it meant keeping you by his side. Forever.

And he was certain that the twins were thinking the same. They lost you once, they wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

But for that… he needed to find you first.

And every morning and every night, he promised himself he would. Out of the three, he was the one who was the most certain he could get you back home, no matter if you wanted it or not. You were his little goddess, so he was certain that at some point you would come close to Ambrose again… and he would stumble upon you… and he would get you home. You would become the divinity of Ambrose once again, and everything would be alright.

One day, luck seemed to be on his side.

The closer you drove to Ambrose, the more you recognised the roads. Your mother’s words never stopped echoing inside your head and at some point, you turned the wheel so you wouldn't get too close to the place. A part of you wanted to drive right back to it; you even felt a little pang when you took the opposite path. You wanted to be back home more than anything, but you were too afraid of what would await you there. You even believed that the twins would be so mad at you, they would kill you and turn you into a wax statue so you couldn’t leave anymore without saying goodbye.

You found a little campsite and you all decided to spend the evening and night there. You forced yourself to focus on your people so you could forget about the Sinclairs. Another part of you was begging you to leave this place and to drive as far as possible away from Ambrose. You had no idea which parts of you were stronger.

You realised you didn’t have enough food for tonight so you and another girl took the car to find a shop nearby. It was late so a lot of them were close and you had to admit, you shivered in fear when your friend showed you the only store open 24/7 in the area. It was very close to Ambrose; little did you know that it was actually the town Lester was living in. You tried to not show anything as you drove to the store. You crossed your fingers to not run into any of the Sinclairs before you thought how stupid this was. The boys wouldn’t be there, and they might even be dead because of their way of life. And you were a lucky girl, something like that couldn’t happen to you.

Even if something inside of you was bubbling in excitement and hope.

As you entered the store, a man was leaving it. He moved to the side to let you come in and as you were about to thank him, your eyes met his and widened.

Lester.

You tried to move past him, hoping he wouldn’t have recognised you or that he would hate you enough to let you go easily. But you were a fool. He instantly grabbed your wrist as he whispered your name, bringing you back to him. He was in trance. He couldn’t believe the day finally came. Your friend frowned, wondering what was going on. She placed an arm around your shoulder to show you support

“Can you let go of her, buddy?” she calmly said and Lester instantly obeyed, not wanting to cause a scene. He put his hands in front of him in defence.

“Sorry. Hi, Y/N, ‘s been a long time” he hummed, looking for your eyes.

“Hi, Les. Sorry, but we’re a bit in a hurry here, we’ll chat another time, hmm?” you said, hoping to get out of this discussion as fast as possible. Goosebumps littered his skin at the sound of your voice calling him by his nickname.

You were surprised when Lester simply smiled and nodded. You noticed his grin didn’t reach his eyes though and you suppressed a shiver. You knew you were in trouble, especially with him letting you go so easily. Even more when he cheerfully said as you turned your back to him “See you soon, darl”

Lester settled in his truck and waited for you and your friend to get out of the store. He dialled his big brother’s number with a light in his eyes. It was the first time in so long he felt like he was finally alive. He was certain things were finally going to be good.

“‘S up, Les?” Bo hummed at the other side of the line, always answering his phone very fast whenever his brothers needed him

“She’s here.” Lester simply said because he was too happy and excited to say anything else.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout, kid?” Bo asked, not wanting to get some false hope.

“Y/N. She’s at the store. She’s with a friend. Gonna follow them, I’ll send ya their location… And we’ll bring her home tonight”

It was a promise.

And a threat.

Taglist : @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21

PART II

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yeoldenews · 26 days

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My original plan was to follow up my big article on Regency era given names right away with one about Regency era nicknames. I figured there was probably a decent amount out there about what common nicknames were used during what time periods, and that the research would take me a couple weeks at most. Ha. Hahahahahahaha.

So here I am three months later with 24 pages of typed notes, two huge spreadsheets, literally hundreds of sources, and still no conclusive evidence of where the hell Sukey came from.

I, ever the avid ignorer of sunk-cost fallacy, still plan to finish this project (largely because of how frustrated I am that no one’s ever written about it before) - but it’s probably going to be a while.

While I'm finishing this up, in order to not disappear entirely, I’m going to be instituting a Throwback (insert random day of the week). In the past I have generally avoided reposting things, but I recently received an email from tumblr stating that this blog is now 14 years old. So, considering that there may now be posts on this blog older than some of the people reading them, I’m thinking there are probably quite a few old posts that people missed the first time around. Possibly because they were toddlers.

If you need me in the meantime, I’ll be fighting the name Alexander in a Denny’s parking lot.

#blogkeeping

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escelia · 1 year

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I took a prompt from @ghostreblogging and ran away with it. I have other parts in progress that I'd be willing to post if you guys are into it. I'm not saying it's good, but I definitely had fun with this and got wild with the next part.

Danny Fenton-Wayne: Big Brother

To say Danny was excited to be a big brother was an understatement. He was so ready to finally be the older one, in a position where he was allowed to be protective but not overbearing. Jazz had trained him well for this. And Damian was just the perfect little brother to him, though he was sure that was weird to everyone else. It was so refreshing to have a sibling that didn't treat him like glass. He reminded him a lot of a smaller, angrier, less tech oriented Skulker. And it was great seeing the others' confused but entertained expressions.

"I will slit your throat while you sleep," Damian had glared at his new big brother. "You are not my big brother!" He insisted. Danny thought it was so cute! Skulker would love him. The other Wayne's had looked mortified as though the comment would scare Danny away. Really, the threat was weak. Slitting Danny's thought wouldn't be nearly as effective as Damian was hoping, and it wasn't even that creative. But Danny was a good big brother, and rough housing was a great way to let off steam and get in exercise, so Danny just laughed and responded,

"You could sure try!"

Damian lunged at him in rage. The kid was fast and efficient; he'd give him that. But Danny had faced things much worse than a 10 year old with a penchant for violence. He dodged and snagged the back of his shirt, scruffing him like an angry kitten.

"Damian! No! Bad!" Tim scolded. "Danny, I would tell you not to take it to heart, but he really will stab you, so please be careful?"

"Stab me? That's adorable!" Damian squirmed in his hold while Danny manhandled him into a hug. This didn't really count as being overbearing if it didn't last too long, right? Besides, with Damian fussing so loudly about it, he was sure this was exactly how Jazz felt when she smothered him. It was amazing. Being a big brother was the best.

He eventually let Damian go and he sped away like Pariah Dark was personally nipping at his heels. No doubt to go plan Danny's demise. He was kind of looking forward to it actually.

~~•○•~~

Dinner that night was eventful. He'd learned that Duke was a meta with an ability that affected his sight. Not that he'd outright said so, but Danny could tell. He also gathered a few inklings about his family being the freakin Bat Brigade? They were all vigilantes, and they thought he was some normal civilian! So was Damian being protective of his family in the face of some stranger? That was understandable. Respectable even. Jazz would have said that he was a newcomer in their space and that he needed to respect that. He wouldn't pry if they didn't want him to. Across the table, his baby brother waved a fork at him menacingly. Danny snickered.

"Damian…" Bruce warned. Dick tutted at him from his seat.

"Sorry about him, Danny. You can just ignore him," Dick assured. Danny found he really liked Dick too, what with his similar penchant for puns.

"Thanks, but I think I can handle him. He's what, 10 years old?"

"I'm clearly 12, you imbecile!" In the next moment, Damian was scrambling across the table embedding his fork into the back of Danny's chair, but Danny was no longer in it. Damian hadn't even seen him move if his stunned blinking was anything to go by.

"Trust me, I would not be good for your diet," Danny joked.

~~•○•~~

Danny had gotten a great idea when several days later Damian rushed him with a whole sword. Even as Phantom, Danny was never familiar with traditional weapons. He'd always wanted to learn, but knew that with Fentons it just wasn't a safe idea. So when Duke came running to reprimand Damian and the child saw an opening, Danny redirected the blade down and out of his hand, offering it back with a question about lessons. Perhaps he could bond with Damian by letting him teach him about his favorite weapon.

Their "training," as Damian put it, was going well. Danny genuinely felt like he was learning a lot from him as well as about him. And even with his ghostly enhanced speed the brat was keeping him on his toes. When Damian nicked him with his blade for the time Danny had been so proud. He knew he wasn't easy to hit.

"Say cheese!" Danny exclaimed, shoving his uninjured cheek up against Damian's for a photo. It had turned out amazing, with Danny pointing to the oozing scratch on his face while Damian scowled at him for enjoying himself.

"Please desist. You're taking all the fun out of trying to kill you." Danny just laughed

~~•○•~~

Damian's new brother was just weird. And apparently Damian was the only one who really knew it. At first he'd thought the fool was underestimating him, but boy was he mistaken. He was a civilian, right? Then why could he not land a hit on Fenton even without the interference of his inferior siblings? The wretched thing was able to snatch him mid air and wrestle him into a hug like it was nothing. He was a professionally trained assassin! This was embarrassing! The others thought Fenton just had decent reflexes and a lack of self preservation instincts, but Damian knew better.

The day Fenton disarmed him quickly went from infuriating to intriguing. His brothers had admonished him for attempting murder again, but Daniel had stood up for him and handed his precious blade back to him, going as far as asking if he was willing to give him lessons. Tt, at least one of his brothers could tell he was a superior warrior. He obliged, eager to show off his skills with a sword. And Daniel wasn't actually bad at it per se, but it was clear he wasn't versed in swordplay. After a few sessions with Daniel, he noticed something odd. Not bad, but odd. The room was always cooler when they sparred, and he found that he didn't often overheat. Daniel was a quick learner and very light on his feet. So light, in fact, that he sometimes seemed to float. And Damien would swear on his grandfather's blade that when Daniel got serious, his eyes would flash a bright, toxic green. Damian was determined to get to the bottom of this, and because he was, in fact, the smartest of the Wayne's, he would do it on his own!

Turns out, he didn't have to try that hard.

Damian woke with a start at the knock on his door. He didn't have patrol so he'd tried to turn in early for the night. Grumbling, he went to see who it was. He swore, if it was Drake and he wasn't sleeping even though he'd been kicked off the schedule for sleep deprivation, he would strangle him. He cracked the door to see glowing green eyes. But Danny didn't seem irrationally angry like Todd did when the Pit Rage consumed him.

"Can I come in please?" Danny pleaded. "I had a nightmare and don't wanna be alone, but the others are out and Tim needs his sleep…"

Damian sighed and opened the door for Danny to come in. He sat at the foot of the bed and curled his knees to his chest.

"I don't know what you expect me to do for you. I'm not some counselor." He closed the door and crossed his arms with an annoyed huff.

"I don't need a counselor, I just need my brother." Danny's tired smile was soft.

"Why? I've been told I don't have a comforting personality." Damain took a seat next to him.

"I don't need to be coddled, I'm not a baby. I really appreciate that you're straightforward and rough toward me. I'm traumatized, but like, I'm not gonna break, ya know?"

"You… like that I'm rude to you?" This had to be the first time anyone had ever said that to him.

"Do you know why I'm here? Why I was taken in?" When Damian shook his head Danny continued. "My parents were always pretty careless when it came to raising my sister and I. Their science always came first. We had to grow up pretty fast. And once you grow up, it sucks to be treated like a kid again. It's what got my sister into psychology, and she was constantly trying to psychoanalyze me. Well, I'd had a lab accident that… changed me. When my parents found out, they vivisected me. Bruce found out and got me out of there, but Jazz was already 18 and in college so she couldn't come with me."

Damian was horrified. Even the League with their harsh rules and cruel nature would never do something like that. Even so, it did explain a lot, and Daniel seemed to know how to handle his trauma. An accident in a lab would definitely explain Daniel's more meta-like features as well. He wondered if his father knew, but figured he didn't because the boy had been very secretive about any abilities he might have gained.

"So to summarize, your parents were atrocious to you and now instead of being coddled or analyzed, you prefer to spend your time with people trying to stab you? I tried to kill you." He pointed out.

"Yea, well so has everyone else in my family at one point or another. It's sort of like a rite of passage and you're the only one that's done it," Danny smirked and nudged Damian. The younger boy could admit he found the humor in that, dark as it may be. "Besides, you get it: not wanting to be underestimated or looked down on just because you're young even though you've been through hell." Damian couldn't deny that. Maybe they were more alike than he had anticipated. Interacting with him didn't grate on his nerves like the others did at least. He sighed.

"So, what now Daniel? We sit in silence until you feel safe enough to go back to your own room?"

"I strongly prefer Danny for reasons I'm not willing to talk about yet, but I get the feeling this is as good as I'm gonna get, huh?"

"Correct."

"Well then, do you mind if I call my dog? He's a good boy, I promise," Danny pleaded.

"I do like the company of animals. I didn't know you had a dog, I haven't seen a new one on the grounds." Danny took this as a go-ahead to summon Cujo.

"I don't take him many places, he can get rowdy and protective sometimes. But I'm positive he'll love you." He let out a sharp whistle and the green ghost puppy phased into the room from under the door. He trotted over to the boys, tongue flopping as he did. He pounced excitedly on Danny before giving Damian a thorough sniff and deeming his presence safe and acceptable. He happily let the boy scratch his belly.

"He's… uh, green. What breed is he?"

"The ghost kind," Danny replied sadly. The implications were heartbreaking. "My accident turned me half-ghost so now I have a ghost puppy," he said as if that explained everything. "You uh, won't tell the others about this, right?"

Damian tilted his head in thought while he scratched Cujo behind the ears. He'd definitely want more details on what exactly Daniel meant by "ghost," but for now, he felt pride at being the one family member Daniel actually felt comfortable talking to. He could lord that over his siblings later.

"We'll, you're no longer in any danger, and your past is none of their business unless you want it to be, so I don't don't see a reason to tell them."

Danny grinned at his little brother. He knew Damian would be his favorite! He already knew he would do anything for him.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #fanfiction #crossover #damian wayne #batfam #big brother danny au #dannys a good big brother #he learned all he knows from jazz #damian respects the crap out of danny for not treating him like a child all the time #but like he also wants to snuggle his brother

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