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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Note

Hey 👋

I swear I'm addicted to your writing😁 Thank you for the amazing post❤

Can I request a usually calm reader coming home to Hanni and Wil with n bruise on their cheek and/or blue knuckles from n fight. And when they question reader they find out reader defended their relationship.

Them reacting to reader with cigarette burn scars from childhood or self harm scars.

Sorry if it's specific I had a dream about the first one and I'm insecure about my scars😅 Also if it makes you uncomfy ignore me🤣

Have a wonderful day/night/afternoon💕

Hey anon, sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this. Hope you enjoy!

Gender neutral y/n comes home covered in bruises. Their lovers Hannibal and Will need to know why.

trigger warnings: blood, threats of violence, mention of firearms, stalking

You spit a mouthful of blood into the snow before you even thought about turning the doorknob. Any random passerby would look at you and think you were attempting to rob the place. You couldn't say you disagreed, though: your hood was pulled over your head and you held a tire iron in your singular non-bleeding hand.

You knew it wasn't wise to let the old-money Baltimore socialites catch you in such a compromising position, but you had to double-check your mental map of the house one more time. Hannibal would undoubtedly be cooking; hopefully so in his element that he wouldn't notice you slipping by. Will was the one you had to worry about. When it came to you, he'd become as alert as a German shepherd with protective instincts to match. Where he was in the house was anyone's guess, so you needed to be on guard.

You removed your heavy boots and opted to leave them outside. You then tossed the tire iron behind a nearby planter and slowly, quietly turned the knob. The door creaked as it opened, making you cringe. The sight of neither of your partners immediately running up on you was a bit of a relief; you hadn't been discovered quite yet.

You just needed to make it upstairs so you could barricade yourself in the master bathroom and use that oh-so-rare sliver of privacy to cover up your bruises. Then you could climb down the trellis, grab your shoes and make a proper entrance with hello kisses and whatnot.

"[F/N]?" Hannibal called out before you could even breach the threshold.

With no thought on your mind other than "fuck", you turned your head away from the direction you heard him. "Yeah, I'm home."

"I'd rush to give you a kiss, but I'm a little tied up at the moment." He said, undoubtedly grinning to himself as he trussed a chicken with sturdy cooking wire. "So you'll have to come to me."

"Oh, yeah." You called back. "Let me just get cleaned up first."

"If you insist." He said with a dramatic dip in his voice. "But hurry right back. Dinner is almost ready."

Hurdle one was cleared. Now all you had to do was clear the second, much higher hurdle.

You ascended the stairs, but forgot to skip that one consistently creaky step that always alerted the dogs. A small army of dogs came pouring into the upstairs hallway, blocked only by the baby gate Hannibal had installed as a compromise. Enthusiastic barks filled the foyer as you desperately tried to calm them down from the top step.

"Winston! Max! Harley!" You rattled off as many names as you could remember. "Hush, please!"

"[F/N]?" Will said, turning the corner.

You momentarily considered throwing yourself down the stairs. It would be easier to explain the bruises and you could still soak up that sweet, sweet throuple affection without having to tell a story that even you didn't entirely believe. Common sense, however, kept your feet firmly on the ground.

Will appeared in your line of sight. You pulled the brim of your hat down and stuffed your hands into your pockets. "I, uh- forgot how to open the gate again."

The dogs parted in Will's path and he looked at you with suspicion as he effortlessly opened the gate. "Is everything okay?"

You turned your head to the side. "I'm fine. It's just really cold outside."

"I'm sure those wet clothes aren't helping." Will cocked his head. "We can start by throwing that hoodie in the dryer-"

Before you could pull away, he pushed your hood and your hat off in one fluid motion. He knew what was going on.

"I'm no doctor, but I don’t think busted noses and black eyes are side effects of low body temperature." He said, folding his arms.

You put your hand up, unintentionally revealing the bruises on your knuckles. "You learn something new every day."

You tried to scoot past him, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

"[F/N]--" Will said, a blistering fury beginning to percolate in his chest. "Who did this to you?"

"I ran into a bus stop." You lied, not even trying to make it sound believable.

"That bus wouldn't have happened to be headed to Dacula, would it?"

Your silence spoke louder than any excuse you could think of.

Will sighed. "Right. I think I know what happened."

"Will, I-" you protested.

"Save it for dinner." He scolded. "I'm sure Hannibal would love to hear this."

You'd been found out it was much worse than anticipated. You felt like you were on trial, which, given the circumstances, you could have actually been on trial in a real court of law on the charge of aggravated assault. However, that didn’t make you feel any better.

Hannibal demanded an explanation and couldn't wait until dinner. He was willing to let one of his culinary masterpieces burn in the oven, knowing of course that a much rarer delicacy was in the cards once you gave him a name.

He brushed his finger over an open cut under your eye. A light click of his tongue reached your ears as he examined your face.

"Give us a name, love." Hannibal probed, holding your jaw between his fingers and following the trail of bruises down your neck. "Who did this to you?"

"It's not a big deal, really." You assured him, squirming against his grip. "I started it."

"Now that, I find hard to believe." Hannibal contested. "You're not a preemptive strikes kind of person."

"Nor would you go all the way to Dacula to throw a few punches." Will added, approaching you with an ice pack.

"Okay, so maybe I finished it." You corrected.

Hannibal smiled proudly to himself. "That's more like it."

"What exactly did you finish?" Will asked, gently placing the ice against your bruised knuckles.

You sighed. You mentioned Dacula once and they already knew the answer. They were just waiting to hear you say it.

"My ex-boyfriend, Sidney." You leaned back on your one good wrist. "He was a being a completely irredeemable shit, as usual-"

"Details, darling." Hannibal said in too singsongy of a voice than was really appropriate while wrapping your hand in gauze.

"Acting entitled, talking like I belonged to him-"

"You have no idea how little that narrows it down." Will shook his head.

You were compelled to agree, but couldn't bring yourself to admit that and the fact that you ever dated Sidney in the first place. "Right."

"That isn't out of character for him." Hannibal said.

"And certainly not enough to make you willingly drive back out to cousinfuck nowhere to beat him up." Will finished.

"I didn't go out there with the intent to beat him up!" You contested. "He said that if I could meet him for coffee he'd never speak to me again. I know it's a lot of gas money, but I really was gonna hold him to the whole 'never speaking to me again' bit."

"So what happened?" Will asked, growing impatient.

You looked at the ground, embarrassment stopping the words at the tip of your tongue.

"Somehow, he caught a whiff of our... arrangement." You tightened your hands into frustrated fists. "And he made some really shitty comments about... you."

Hannibal and Will exchanged looks. They let the silence linger, urging you to fill it.

"He went into obscene detail about how mmf threesomes are his favorite category of porn," you tried not to gag as you recalled the disgusting details. "And then said if I 'let him watch', he wouldn't tell the local baptist church that I was a whore-"

"The man is a pig." Hannibal said, matter-of-factually.

"I got up to leave." You continued. "Obviously. Then he said he knew where you lived. Announced it to the whole diner. Started to go through his list of semiautomatic weapons. So to make sure he knew I meant business-"

"You threw the first punch." Hannibal finished the thought for you.

You nodded. "Naturally."

Will smiled to the floor and pushed his glasses up his nose. "I would have loved to see that."

"As much as it pains me to say," Hannibal began, resignedly agreeing. "It's only fair that you stand up for us the way we stand up for you. From time to time."

Will brought your bruised knuckles to his lips. "Though we desperately need to teach you how to dodge. Because the next time you come home covered in scratches, someone will pay."

You took both of their hands. "I should get beat up more often."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal nbc #will graham x reader #will graham #will graham x you #hannibal x you x will #hannigram x you #poly hannigram #hannigram #hannigram x reader #anon request #anon ask

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superpixie42 · 2 years

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Holy smokes how is it already SUNDAY JUNE 12TH!? It was a Tuesday in May yesterday T-T

Thankfully, since my Domestic @inukag-week contribution was a deleted chapter, it just needed cleaned up and is ready for your viewing pleasure. Not sure if any other days this week will be on time, but I'm going to bask in this moment of being on time for something while you enjoy the approx 800 word chapter that lives between parts 6 & 7 (so note this does include spoilers if you haven't read Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover)

Day One: Domestic

Inuyasha groaned into his pillow. He’d worked a week of double shifts and finally had a day off, so to say he was unhappy to hear his phone going off at 9am was an understatement. He looked at his obscenely bright screen and, seeing Kagome's name and picture, slid his thumb to accept the call.

"Oh good you're awake!" Kagome's voice came blasting through the speaker before Inuyasha had even opened his mouth.

"No I'm not. The hell do you want?"

"Umm.." her voice trailed off and for a second he wondered if the call had disconnected. "I need some help."

"What kind of help?"

"Could you drive me to the hospital?"

Well, that certainly had his attention.

Using all of his inhuman speed Inuyasha found jeans, shoes, and last night's hoodie and was halfway out the door before he even asked her where she was.

"I'm at home... had a little cooking accident. It's not a big deal but I just don't think I should take the bus bleeding and everyone else is at work and -"

"No, it's fine I'll be here as soon as I can." He dropped his phone into his pocket, planted his feet firmly on the stair rail in front of his apartment door and catapulted himself to the building’s roof. Cutting across town at full speed, he could be at Kagome’s apartment in under 10 minutes. He didn’t care if he was risking a ticket for using his demonic speed in public. He’d never been someone’s emergency contact before - surely that made this an extenuating and excusable circumstance?

Landing superhero style on the roof of the laundromat, Inuyasha steadied himself for the possible carnage inside. Was she missing a finger? Was Toru traumatized by blood and gore? Would they both be screaming when he broke down the door, or would Kagome be on the floor passed out from blood loss because he took too long? He dropped to the landing with a thud and thankfully found the door unlocked and pushed it open. Inside was nothing like he expected.

It was… completely fine.

Kagome jumped a little at his barging in, but she was sitting calmly on her bed with a towel wrapped around her hand while Toru sat on her lap watching what sounded like The Lion King. As the adrenaline ebbed away, his ire at being woken up early crashed over him again.

“I thought you said you were hurt!”

Kagome held up her hand and he could smell the faint metallic tang of blood from across the room.

“I told you, it was a cooking accident. I was trying to pit an avocado and, well, I missed.” She pointed to the small kitchenette where a bloody avocado was still sitting on the counter. He huffed and walked over to the large window in the kitchen and motioned Kagome to follow him. He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes while he surveyed the carnage on the counter. As Kagome came to stand next to him he pointed down at the small, smooth knife sitting next to the mangled fruit.

“That’s a paring knife Kagome; why would you pit an avocado with a paring knife?”

She blushed, which made him nervous. A person with a knife wound in their hand probably shouldn’t have their blood rushing around that quickly. “I didn’t know it was the wrong knife. I don’t really cook, generally.”

“What are you talking about? You cook every morning. Domestic goddess can't use a big girl knife?"

She frowned a little and pulled her lips in towards her teeth as she formulated her response.

"I bake, but I thought since you're being so nice and driving us now that maybe you deserved something a little fancier than a muffin."

He puffed a breath out of his nose in response. While he appreciated the gesture - in fact it made his stomach do more flip flops than he would ever admit - it would have been nice if it hadn’t taken a year off the end of his life. He gingerly took her hand and unwrapped the towel. She hissed as he prodded the small stab wound. It looked like she’d managed to transfer some of the avocado into it based on the small green streak, which really made up his mind that she should go to urgent care to get it cleaned properly.

With practiced ease he gathered up Toru and the diaper bag then herded Kagome down to the parking lot.

Which is when Inuyasha realized he forgot the car.

He’d never heard Kagome laugh so hard.

#inukag week #inukag week 2022 #dont judge a book by its cover #my writing

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silverdelirium · 3 years

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HEALER MALFOY | D.M

summary: healer draco meets a trainee and can’t help but offer her study sessions, for more research of course.

warning: smut, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, praise kink, like 7 years of age gap so if that’s uncomfy don’t read

———

“We have a new trainee today Malfoy, better not scare this one out.” Martha called from her desk in the reception of St. Mungo’s hospital.

Draco rolled his eyes at this and crossed his arms. “Can’t promise much can I, Martha?” he smiled sarcastically at the woman who only answered with a shake of her head but shot it up when she heard the door open.

“I’m sorry if i’m late, i was getting breakfast, but i’m here now.” said a rather sweet voice by the door. Draco’s head snapped back to see who the owner was and was met with a woman who looked quite young, her figure adorned in a lime green nurse shirt and pants to match. He couldn’t help but trail his eyes down to the swell of her breasts that look too tight for some reason.

“Ah y/n, no worries you’re just in time, healer malfoy will be showing you around today and giving you an insight on what to expect here” Martha said while gesturing to Draco when she addressed his name. Y/n’s eyes looked at Draco and immediately she stretched her hand out to introduce herself.

“I’m y/n l/n it’s so nice to meet you mr. malfoy” she beamed at him. Draco shook her hand and looked at the pretty woman in front of him and gave her a smile.

“Pleasure is mine ms. l/n, come on, let me show you around a bit.” stated Draco while signaling forward with his hand. She obeyed and followed him around the first floor.

“So if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” inquired Draco looking at her expectedly.

“Oh, I’m 19” she chuckled.

“19? How old were you when you graduated from school then?”

“17, but took a year off to do some research about healing you know”

“Right. I’m surprised you used your year off to study and not party around, you young adults nowadays can only think about that apparently.”

“You young adults? How old are you mr. malfoy?” she questioned with her brows furrowed.

“I’m 27, why, look too young?” he smirked down at her, watching how she became flustered when he towered over her.

“O-oh no, I-I mean yes you- you do look very young.” She said, not so subtly running her eyes down his tall figure.

He chuckled at that and stepped a bit closer to her. “So, i’m interested in what you studied during that year off, how about you come to my house this evening and we can talk about it, yeah doll?” Draco didn’t know what came over him, but seeing her all worked up because of him and those goddamn clothes that made her figure stand out made him want to corner her against the wall and have everyone watch how he got his way with her.

“Uh- Uhm sure yeah, after- after our shift.”

“Yeah, change into something more comfortable and we’ll apparate together, hmm? Now- ” He clapped his hands together “-Let’s continue the tour yeah?” She nodded, her throat dry as her mind wandered on what else they could do this evening.

___

After y/n’s shift ended she waited a couple minutes in the reception, waiting for Draco’s to end, now changed in a sweatshirt and a black skirt.

Draco then appeared almost out of nowhere, his white robe disregarded on his shoulder when he looked around to see y/n with her legs crossed and once again, not so subtly trailing her eyes across his figures and paying special attention to his arms’ muscles that were hidden underneath his robe before.

Y/N stood up from her seat and walked towards Draco with a small smile which he returned.

“Ready to go then, princess?” He asked. She felt blood rushing to her face but ignored it and nodded it instead. He then held out his arm like a true gentleman and apparated with her.

Everything went blurry and y/n felt dizzy until she felt her feet land on concrete, right in front of a big gate that was slightly covering a big manor on the other side. Draco at her side pulled out his wand from his pocket and the gates clicked open. He then held out his hand for her to take, which she happily took, and together they marched into the manor.

He set down two cups of tea in the coffee table in front of the couch that y/n was sitting on. She mumbled a quick thanks before grabbing it and taking a sip.

“So, gonna tell me about what you found out during that year?” She perked her head up at this from where she was watching her cup.

“Oh, yes of course” he then proceeded to listen intently to her ramble about how she traveled different countries and visited their best magical hospital there to see what they did. She talked for a good 23 minutes until she cut herself off unexpectedly.

“Oh god- i’m sorry if i’m bothering you with my rambles, you obviously know all about this, considering you’re a professional healer i just- ” She was cut off this time when he hooked his thumb and index finger on her chin, forcing her face to look directly into his.

“Hey, you’re not bothering at all pretty girl, i like your rambles” he smirked watching her become flustered once again at the pet name. He kept his fingers on her chin, his other hand unconsciously placing itself on her knee.

He was about to pull away, the need to kiss her senseless suddenly sufferable, but when her eyesight fell on his lips he couldn’t take it. He kissed her, hard. She then pulled away just to straddle his lap, her skirt riding up and exposing more of her soft thighs, his cock already growing in his pants.

He leaned forward to press their lips together again, his hands roaming down her lower back, making her roll her hips into his. He groaned at the sensation, pausing the kiss once again to take her shirt off which she gladly took off, her fingers hooking themselves in the hem of his, which he took off too. She let her eyes linger on his toned chest before leaning forward and starting to kiss his neck, occasionally sucking to create a few hickeys here and there.

“Fuck baby, take this off” he said, pulling at her bra, she quickly pulled away from his neck and unclasped her bra with a snap. He leaned back on the couch, admiring her soft mounds and letting his hands touch them, his thumb lightly grazing her nipples making her moan softly and grind her hips into his once more. She repeated this action when he attached his mouth to her left tit, his other hand playing with the right one. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back while breathing heavily, her mouth parted open.

She only opened them again when he detached his mouth from her nipple, much to his and her dismay.

“Why’d you stop?” She asked, looking down at Draco with a slight frown. He smirked at this

“Wanna fuck you baby, that’s why.” He replied. She almost moaned at his dirty talk.

“Would you like that sweetheart?” He questioned, needing to hear her admit that she wants him.

“Yes- yes Draco”

“That’s not my name baby.” He said while delivering a slap to her ass.

“D-Daddy?” she said questionably.

“Good girl” he said lifting her up his lap, watching her face turn into confusion when he stood up.

“Well? take that skirt and those panties off, won’t you bunny?” she nodded and slid her skirt and panties off at the same time. Making him do the same with his bottom clothes.

She timidly sat back down on the couch, her legs tightly closed and looking up at Draco with those innocent eyes.

“Spread those legs open for daddy baby, wanna see my sweet girl’s pretty pussy hm?”

“Yes daddy” she obeyed spreading her legs, allowing him to get a good view of her glistening cunt that was practically begging for him to enter.

“Shit princess” he groaned while stroking his large cock up and down. Y/N just bit her lower lip watching him do such obscenities that had her pussy dripping already. He lowered himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around her plump thigs, his breath fanning over her bare pussy.

“Let me taste you first pretty baby” he said before diving into her core and letting his tongue lap up her juices while hearing her moans and screams of daddy when his nose nudged her clit.

“Daddy f-feels too good” she moaned while arching her back and bucking her hips up when he wrapped his mouth around her clit and sucked like there was no tomorrow.

“I’m gonna come daddy, please- please let me cum” He lifted his head up a bit, smirking at her.

“Such good manners pup, cum then, just because you’re being a good girl.”

She didn’t waste time and cummed right when he attached his mouth back on her cunt, her cum gushing in his mouth. Making Draco try to taste as much as he could and moaning into her.

In her state of bliss, she didn’t know when Draco got back up and left a kiss on her forehead, his knuckles running across her cheekbones.

“Think you can take my cock, baby?” He questioned, strocking himself when she bit her lip once again and nodded rapidly.

“Turn around then” She obliged and turned around, her knees on the couch and her chest leaning into the backrest of it.

He groaned at the sight of her ass, already picturing how it would jiggle when he plunged himself inside her.

So he nudged her clit with his cock a few times before entering completely, y/n already a moaning mess at the size of him, he paused for a moment, stroking her ass soothingly so the pleasure overcomes the pain.

“Can i move baby?”

“Yes- please move daddy” she moaned out, already starting to rock her hips back and forth in an attempt to fuck herself on him. Which earned her a slap on the ass, making her body jolt up at the contact.

“Be fucking patient.” He said through gritted teeth, starting to fuck her gently as to not hurt her.

She just huffed at this. “I want it fast daddy” she demanded. “Oh?” he said. Genuinely surprised that such a small girl could think she could take him all and fast.

“You want it fast you filthy girl? I’ll give you fast then.” He said, the last bit of mercy he had for her completely melting off and setting a brutal pace that had the girl grip the couch so hard her knuckles were white.

“So g-good daddy. You fuck me so good” y/n whined, her words slurred and legs trembling as he still pounded into her.

“Yeah baby? You like how i fuck your tight little cunt huh?” He teases, his hand massaging her right ass cheek a bit before slamming his hand down on it, making her eyes roll back and a loud moan tumbling out of her.

“Fuck, fuck i’m gonna cum” she says, her breathing heavy. About a second after she says those words she feels him slide out of her making her whine and involuntarily push her hips back, her body wanting to be full again.

“You greedy little thing” he smirked, sitting down on the couch next to her and watching her furrow her brows in confusion.

“I want you in reverse cowgirl baby” He said, patting his lap while at it. She stumbles to her feet on shaky legs and turns around, feeling him grip her hips and aligning her with his cock whose head was leaking with pre-cum. The pair moaned at the feeling of euphoria. Small moans and whines leaving her lips while he wraps his arm around her waist and pushes her backwards so her back is resting on his chest, her head knocking back on his shoulder, He takes one look at how blissfully fucked the girl looks before crashing their lips together and starting to thrust into her.

Y/n feels like she’s in a fever dream with how fucking good she’s being fucked. She’s brought back to reality when he grabs the back of her knees, one hand on each, and makes her legs go back so her knees are touching his upper arms, as to get better access to her dripping pussy.

She can hear his grunts and occasional moaning of her name that was accompanied with her breathy moans and whines.

“Ah! Daddy you fuck me too g-good” you manage to speak out, while one of his hands travel down to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Fuck baby your tight pussy feels so good my princess, let me cum inside it yeah?” He says while he stares at her eyes that are staring back at him with a few tears of pleasure almost leaking out, considering he’s still fucking her at a fast pace.

“Yes! Please daddy please cum inside me!” He groans at her words and rubs her clit faster so she can finish first, that apparently sent her falling off the edge and had her squirting her cum out all over his lap and some of it on the couch, him following shortly after, rope after rope of cum fills her up that it almost seems never-ending.

She sighs in pleasure at the feeling of it, her mind feeling drowsy after the intense orgasm.

He brings her legs down slowly from their bent-up position, making her body relax more.

“You okay sweetheart?” He asks, slowly dragging her up to pull out his softening cock. “Yeah” she smiles lightly at him, making him peck her forehead, cheek, nose, lips and chin. She giggles at the ticklish feeling.

“So how does a movie with some take-out food sound beautiful?” Draco asks the girl.

“It sounds nice” she nods, already taking consciousness of how she hasn’t eaten since breakfast and her stomach is a bit impatient.

#draco malfoy story #draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy smut #healer draco #draco malfoy x you

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (viii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, protesting, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, gamer (derogatory), smidge of angst

Word count: 3.5k

A/N: listen idk what goes on at construction site and im too sexy to research so we’re going with my version of the world. hello. how are we all doing?

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He doesn’t expect to see you on TV.

In jail maybe, for something scandalous and completely unnecessary, but not TV.

But there you are, a sign board waving around furiously in your hand, voice in protest against the demolition of the community centre. You’re flipping the board back and forth to alternate between the messages you’ve scrawled on the cardboard.

You were among a few protesting, but clearly the loudest.

He thinks that maybe he has the weekend off if you’re too busy fighting big corporations. He’d send his support even.

Until he zeroes in on the sign when it flips over, finally reading what it says.

You better get your ass here, sarge

And so he does.

Half the crowd had dipped by the time he arrived. You were there, still the loudest, but he couldn’t help but notice the lack of people as compared to an hour or two ago on TV. He supposed that justice could wait as long as it took to get lunch from the nearest café.

“I can’t stop you from protesting, y’know.” He’s a little wary of approaching your raging self.

“Oh, hey Barnes. You got my message.” You break away for a second to scream a bunch of obscenities at the gigantic glass building before turning to him. “You wouldn’t be able to.”

“What’s your dumb plan then?”

“First of all, it’s not dumb. It’s stupid. Put some respect on my technological genius.” You held up a finger. “Second of all, it’s not here.”

“Where is it?”

“At the construction site.” You point down the road. “Come on.”

Right along the way you stop to chant another slogan. He waves his arm around meekly in support. He did, after all, have to stand up for what was right, but if his publicist saw him here she’d have an aneurysm.

The construction site isn’t very far off. It’s adjacent to the community centre, which he assumes they’re going to tear down to make more space for whatever shitty commercial building was going to take its place.

There are already a few excavators and dozers there but no one to man them since it was lunch time. What garners his attention is the small silver plate that’s on the floor a few feet ahead in the direction you’re walking towards.

“Here.” You stop once it nears. “The plan.”

“Am I supposed to know what this is?” He lightly kicked at it, earning a smack on the arm from you.

“Stop that,” you scolded, “and look at it. It’s not hard to figure out.”

He narrows his eyes. There’s a small u-shaped piece of metal in the middle of the plate. “That’s a magnet.”

“Exactly.” You clapped your hands together in excitement. “The world’s strongest electromagnet.”

He looks around. The only possibly magnetic things are the cranes and excavators around him.

“You’re going to... stop the machines from moving ahead?” he hesitates in his deduction.

“Yep. Can’t tear anything down if they can’t get to it first.”

Bucky looks down.

“Does this thing even work?” He toes at it again. “It’s kinda small.”

“It works beautifully, stop kicking at it, you demon-”

“What happens if I step on it, huh?” He knows this would get on your nerves wonderfully. He raises his leg. “Do I get to go home for the day?”

“You’re such a little shit,” you whine, reaching for your back pocket. “Stop bullying my invention.”

“’m gonna squish it like a bug.” He’s only half kidding about that part. “I’m gonna-”

Before he can finish his sentence something yanks him down hard. His head nearly hits the ground before his right arm shoots out to break his fall.

"Woah there, don't go falling for me as yet.”

“What the fu-” he begins, eyes locking on his metal arm that was pressed flat against the earth.

“I told you it works,” you say smugly. “Try crushing it now, Barnes. If you can even get off the floor.”

He tugs his hand but it’s firmly attached to the thing. No matter how or where he’s applying the effort, his limb refuses to move. He’s stuck.

“Turn it off,” he sighs. “You made your point.”

“No. Stay there.”

“Y/N, shut up and turn this off,” he groans, trying to find a better position rather than chin down on the ground.

“Lay there and rot. You deserve it for underestimating me.” You huff.

“I wasn’t underestimating you, Jesus Christ.” He really was planning to just step on it, but he had complete faith that it worked.

When he doesn’t receive a reply, his gaze follows yours. Suddenly the crane looks a lot closer than it initially did. Awesome.

“Those are moving towards me.” He picks up on the low groan and creak of metal.

“Yeah, they are.” You nod, one hand on your hip, watching them.

He didn’t think that getting crushed under construction equipment would be how his day went.

“Not my problem,” you decide finally after a bout of silence.

Now that simply wouldn’t do.

Death was definitely a problem, but what was more important was that he was going to get a dust allergy from the mud. He could already feel the blocked nose and temperature incoming.

“Are you really going to waste this on me? Don’t you have a demolition to stop?” He manages to twist his body so that he’s lying on his back.

“Good point,” you squint into the distance at the whirring of the heavy machinery. Their owners wouldn’t be happy to find them missing from their original spot. “But I still can’t help you out.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice your-”

“I can’t help you out because I don’t have an off switch. Yet,” you add the last part in a hurry.

“Then when the fuck were you planning to build one?” He sits up, leaning on his elbow. The cranes weren’t a mini object on the horizon now; the closer they got, the faster they were starting to move towards him.

“I don’t know, after they agreed not to take down the building?”

He could just detach his arm and come back for it later he but had no guarantee that you would stop here for the day or that the vibranium could withstand all that pressure.

“You better make a switch right now and get me out of this, I don’t care how.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, bending to assess how badly he was stuck. “You know, this thing runs really deep into the earth. It’d take forever to dig back up and then get you back to my lab and then build a switch.”

“How long?” He didn’t have a lot of time, clearly, but even generally he didn’t have the whole day to waste. He had a mission the next day. He had to put the fear of death into some Russians and bring some pirozhki back for Nat.

“I don’t know,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Too long for my schedule anyway, I have class prep to do.”

“Motherfucke- that thing’s like twenty feet away.” He’s worried about how you don’t look fazed at all when he points at the stupid machine.

He’s about to volunteer to detach his arm when he realises it’s definitely less than twenty feet now. He had a backup just in case. It didn’t move as smoothly, but who could tell the difference when a couple of tons of pressure was aiming for your face, and hell, if he explained his circumstances of the destruction of his arm to T’Challa-

“Okay, fine.” You reach into your backpack to grab something that looked like a wrist watch. It matched the one already around your hand.

You reach over and clasp it around his hand before turning a dial on the side.

“You ready?” you ask, ignoring the large crane that was starting to charge towards you.

“For what?” he replies, looking down at it. He can barely hear you over the sound of the whining of machinery.

“Teleportation, baby.” You send him a big grin before slamming down on his watch.

“Huh-” His voice cuts off immediately.

If there’s anything that can be said about teleportation, it’s that he feels like every atom in his entire body violently splits to float around briefly before suddenly rejoining again.

The ground beneath him feels different, and it takes him a second to realise that he was on the floor of your lair.

“What the fu-”

“Hello,” your voice comes from above him.

“You can teleport.” It’s not difficult for him to look at you now without the sun in his face. His arm is still stuck to the magnet but since the giant rod it was attached to was no longer deep in the ground, he could lift the entire apparatus up relatively easily.

“What, like it’s hard?” You discarded your bag on the floor. “You good? Takes a while to get used to.”

He gives you a grunt in acknowledgement, shaking his arm to see if he had any luck. It didn’t budge.

“Come on, take a seat.” You gesture to a lab chair you’ve pulled up for him on the raised platform at the front of the room. He realises that this is the first time he’s properly seen what’s actually inside your lair.

There are various buttons that do God knows what, drawers and cabinets painted black, several computer screens and gigantic pillars of glass on either side of the set up that encapsulate some green bubbling liquid. There’s a giant television set up against the wall, divided into several screens.

“Whaddya think?” You do a small swoop of your arm to show off the place.

“Gamer,” he says simply, testing his luck.

“What did you just say to me?” you recoil instantly, disgust on your face.

“It’s a gamer set up.” He points a finger at the TV screen. He was told by Shuri to use it as an insult, but he wasn’t exactly sure why. It just felt appropriate.

“Take that back right now.” You raise a finger accusatorially at him.

“No.” He was sticking with it even though he had no idea what exactly the context was.

“Fuck your arm,” you announce, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“Fuck your demolition then,” he replies simply, getting up from his place on the chair to leave with the thing still attached to him.

He takes one step ahead before your voice rings out.

“Sit down, drama queen,” your voice calls from behind him. “God, you’re annoying.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“I’m the best part of your week,” you fire back, ”and also your only way out of this. Now sit down.”

He didn’t even need the second warning, he was already on the chair the first time around.

“I’m not going to build a switch to turn this off. It’d take too long,” you examine the piece of equipment with more gentleness than he was expecting, “I’m going to remove it instead. It’s gonna take a while, so you better get comfortable.”

“I’m not.”

“That’s so sad,” you say without any indication of wanting to help.

He rolls his eyes.

You pull up next to him, welding glasses covering your face and the tool in your hand.

He turns away when you start, making sure his face is not directly within its trajectory.

He makes himself busy by looking around some more. There are details you’ve put into the place, materials that are non-flammable made up most of the architecture. It’s dramatic, sure, but somehow the designs and colours seemed to go together. It did look sinister, he’d give you props for that.

The space was quite big. It occurs to him only then that that’s how you manage to sneak up on him so often in the past. Everything clicked. Fucking teleportation.

“So,” your voice was raised to speak over the noise. “How’s it going?”

He decidedly doesn’t answer. His position is more than enough.

“Right.” You clear your throat.

He takes to counting the tiles on the floor, figuring out how many were there from the raised platform to the wall of the entrance.

“Not how you imagined your day to go, huh?” you continued despite his lack of response. “But some might say it’s a privilege to be spending the day with a cool, mad scie-”

“Are you going to keep talking?” he interrupts, losing his count on the floor.

“Yeah, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You got anything better to do?”

He didn’t.

“What’s it like living with a bunch of superheroes?” You change course. He’s not sure if he’s really allowed to disclose top secret information. “I assume there’s a lot of protein shakes, talcum powder for the chafing-”

Then again, how much damage could you do by knowing that Steve preferred pancakes over waffles?

“It’s quiet,” he says. “Most of the time.”

“Save all your smart talking for the battlefield, huh?”

He doesn’t reply. It’s quiet around the Tower. A lot of their energy goes towards missions and recuperating once they’re back.

“You go on missions a lot?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Boo, you whore,” you say with mock disappointment.

He got that reference.

“What’s your favourite food then?”

He scrunches his eyebrows.

“What?” The welding stops for a second while you look at him. “Don’t tell me that’s classified too.”

It’s not, he’s just never thought about it.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, “Pasta?”

“Vague, but I’ll take it.”

He used to boil a lot of pasta, from what he could remember of his days in hiding. Cheap and bought in bulk before he saved up enough to buy things like fruits. A lot of the times the amount of sauce he had access to was enough for maybe seasoning, not a whole component on its own.

It’s one of the perks of being a free man in the 21st century he thinks, a steaming bowl of fettuccini drenched in sauce and garlic bread on the side.

“What do you do in your downtime?”

“Nothing.” Well, he considers it to be a pass time and doing nothing is a full time gig. It takes effort to do nothing. He even has days dedicated to doing nothing, as suggested to him by his therapist.

“Really?” You sound a little surprised, although it’s hard to make out when you’re already speaking a lot louder than usual. “No shining your penny collection? No software update for this thing?” You tap at his arm.

There really isn’t anything. Truth be told, he thinks he’s the most boring guy in the Tower. He sticks to himself, has a few succulents that he adores and occasionally watches trashy television. So then why are you so interested in him?

“You’re obsessed with me,” he says pointedly. “Why?”

You give a short laugh. “I think it’s the blue eyes, sarge, they’re really popping today. Gotta say, I’m loving this colour on you. Is it different from the black you wore last week? And from the one from the week before that?”

He looks down at his dark t-shirt and utility pants. He had other clothes but those were reserved for things that were not this.

“Or maybe it’s the grumpiness, I don’t know. I love it when someone shows absolutely no interest in me. Very sexy of you.” Oh jeez, you were going to continue. “Hell, maybe it’s the thighs-”

“Okay,” he interjects, feeling the need to count the tiles more than ever. He equates the heat in his neck from the welding going on beside him.

The loudness of your laughter is clearer than the sound of metal on metal when you tug a large piece of the invention off. Things were moving fast. He could get back home to his Star Trek marathon and forget this day ever happened.

“You know, you’re more interesting than you think,” you pipe up casually.

He doesn’t expect this and therefore he supposes he can’t stop the curiosity from enveloping his face. He hasn’t told you anything about himself, so then the inference you reached came out of nowhere.

Apparently, you take notice of the confusion on his face, even though he can’t see through the giant welding mask, because you let out a chuckle.

“Oh, come on, really? You have no idea?” you ask lightly, pausing to see if he offers anything other than silence. “You’ve come back almost every week even though you know it’s a waste of your time, you always keep your promises and I know for a fact that if you wanted to stop me once and for all, you could have. But you’re not.”

He doesn’t realise you’ve stopped welding until you start again. Good, it gives him an excuse not to have to look at you after that.

Frankly, he’s a little stunned.

You’re not looking at him, he can tell from his peripheral vision. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a small crush on me.”

At that, he’s forced to roll his eyes out of instinct. Thankfully you do know better.

A few screws out later, another piece comes out. You inform him that’s it’s going to get trickier from there since the circuit was a little more intricate, a lot more time than the original few pieces. He can see his Star Trek marathon fade away in the distance.

You ask him a few more questions. Some he answers with silence, others maybe a tidbit here and there.

“How’s dating now compared to the forties?”

“Strange.” He purses his lips in thought. “One guy asked for a gym date. Didn’t know that was a thing.”

“How’d that turn out?” you laugh.

“He didn’t ask for a second one.” His Bumble matches with girls somehow had gone down since he cut his hair, but he’s not too bothered. Not like there was a huge shortage.

He likes cats, thinks the worst merchandise that they make is the stupid baseball card with his face on it, and doesn’t have social media for the sake of his sanity. He’s seen the thirst tweets.

Clearly, he’s revealed his deepest, darkest secrets. Utterly classified material. But he doesn’t know anything about you other than your name, number, address, where you teach, what your hobby is-

“You, uh-” he hesitates, “You got a favourite food?”

Your hands hold still to hover above what they’re working on. You fight back a smile. “Sure do.”

He asks a few more questions. Shuts up when he feels his social battery drain. That’s enough for the next month, he thinks.

The sun’s dipped down beyond the horizon by the time majority of the work is completed. Both of you have taken a few breaks to fight the feeling of stiffness that was creeping into your joints.

You scoff and tell him you’re not planning to poison him when he denies the offer of a soda. He doesn’t deter in his decision.

“How much to go?” He has a mission tomorrow that he’d really like to get some sleep in before. Waking up at 3am to get ready was the worst part of the job.

“Basically done.” You roll your chair back, rotating your shoulder and stretching your fingers. “There’s just this little part that I can’t access from this angle. How good are you at hanging upside down like a bat?”

Fuck it, he sighs to himself, it was almost finished anyway.

Bucky stands up, tilting his neck to the side slightly before pulling at a small latch under his arm, one so tiny that you’d never make out was even there unless you knew it existed. The arm releases from his shoulder with a small click.

He offers it to you, a piece of your magnet still attached to it.

Your eyes are slightly wide. He raises his eyebrows.

You don’t say anything, just accept it and flip it to a position you were comfortable with. It takes only a minute or two for the sound of the last piece hitting the floor to reverberate through the hall.

You give a small cheer. He lets out a tiny exhale in equal parts fatigue and relief.

“So,” you drawl, handing his arm back to him, “you could have just done that the whole time.”

He doesn’t reply, just slides it back onto his shoulder.

“You had the option of leaving your arm here and coming back later to get it.”

He gives it a few shakes, opens and clenches his fist shut a few times to make sure everything is working.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

He gives you a deadpan look. “I was distracting you.”

“Bullshit,” you laugh.

“Believe what you must.” He shrugs, turning around. “My job here is done regardless.”

“Oh, I believe alright,” you call out from behind him as he walks towards the entrance of your lair. “I believe you’re a sneaky bastard, Bucky Barnes.”

He doesn’t stop himself from smiling at the overdramatic gasp you give when he flips you a middle finger. From the metal arm, too.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #harmless fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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bloodorangesoup · 3 years

Text

Ice Cream and Bad TV | B.B.

Request: Late night thoughts : The only porn bucky watches are the ones that come on tv at like 2 or 3 in the mornings. Imagine cuddling up with him on his living room floor, aimlessly clicking around until you stumble upon the channel & he gets flustered & shy about it & you fuck him while porn plays in the background. Like I think it’s so romantic🥺🥺 riding him while the soft glow of the tv illuminates his face. His moans & grunting blending in with the actors 😫😫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble but I cannot for the life of me control myself)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ | cuddle fucking, unprotected sex(pretend ur on birth control for a sec)(still wrap it b4 your tap it), flustered Bucky, porn talk, the tiniest bit of sub!Bucky for like half a second, fluffy smut, you get the gist

My Masterlist

Notes: I did this in one sitting so sorry if it’s repetitive or has any mistakes. I think I have a major soft sport for flustered Bucky. I also had to think of a realistic name for a TV porn channel so bear with me. This is my first time writing smut in non-headcanon form so let me know how I did! Happy reading!

It was 2am on a Thursday night when your phone rang with your boyfriend's caller I.D. This wasn't the first time that Bucky had called you for this instance, it became a routine for you to talk him down after a nightmare and you prepared to do so when you picked up. Usually the first thing you would hear was his heavy breaths, the anxious buzz in his body making him fumble his words as he tried to focus on talking to you, so you were surprised to be met with still breathing and his typical deep, steady voice.

"Doll? You there?"

"Yeah, Buck, I'm here," you replied with a yawn, trying to sound as awake as possible. Bucky could hear the airiness of your voice and let out a sigh.

"Sorry, baby, I woke you up."

"You say that every time, I don't mind waking up for you. Besides, I don't have work tomorrow so I don't exactly need my beauty rest."

There was a pause. You could still hear static from the other side of the call but Bucky didn't say a word.

"Buck? You okay?" As if you snapped him out of a daydream, his hurried words rushed through the phone.

"Yeah yeah, sorry. I'm kind of out of it right now, I had another bad dream."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" You had expected his usual answer of yes, then you would listen to his thoughts and comfort him through the horrific reality that were his nightmares.

"You said you don't have work tomorrow? Do you think you could come over right now? Actually never mind, I don't know what I'm saying, it's 2am." You could practically see Bucky shaking his head as he took back his question.

"I'll be there in twenty, James. You better have some blankets and pillows ready for me because we're taking over your couch."

Bucky let out a breath over the line, "See you soon, y/n, love you."

"Love you more," you said quickly before hanging up, not letting him get in the last 'I love you.'

Forty minutes later you found yourself on Bucky's lap on his living room floor. You two had abandoned the idea of the couch and chose to make a small fort with the couch as your scaffolding. There was a surprising amount of pillows and blankets surrounding the two of you, you had no idea Bucky even owned them all.

He sat with his back against the couch, your legs laid over his and your arms were around his neck, bringing his head down to your chest. He talked about his nightmare, sparing you the gruesome details, and once he was done he closed his eyes and leaned further into your chest, breathing in your scent. You gave the crown of his head a kiss and rested your head atop his. Comfortable silence washed over the two of you before you spoke up.

“You know what always makes me feel better?” you asked, lifting your head just enough to look down at him.

“What?” he mumbled into your chest. A soft smile graced your face at his cuteness.

“Ice cream and bad TV!” you announced excitedly before wiggling out of his grasp.

You did a little jog to his kitchen and reached down into the freezer to grab a small pint of ice cream you knew Bucky always kept stashed for you whenever you came around. Picking up two spoons and turning off all the lights in the apartment on your way, you quickly made your way back into the living room, lifting Bucky’s arms to situate yourself back into your position on his lap. You popped the lid of the small tub and handed it to Bucky along with a spoon. With your hands now free, you felt around in the dark for the remote and turned on the TV.

Waiting for the TV to completely turn on, you ate a spoonful of ice cream. You hummed at the taste of the cold sweetness coating your tongue. You gasped as you opened your eyes, finding Bucky scooping out some ice cream and lowering it to your mouth.

“Oh wait, let me make this cuter!” you squealed with your eyes wide.

Copying Bucky’s actions, you took a spoonful and lifted it to his lips, the both of you opening wide and feeding each other. You giggled at the cliché moment and Bucky couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how adorable you were.

You turned back to the TV, lifting the remote in your hands to change the channel to anything but the news that was already playing on the screen. As you flipped through sports recaps, music channels, infomercials, and movies that were already almost over, you sighed.

“Ugh, there’s nothing good on. Maybe if I start from the end of the list there’ll be better stuff,” you huffed.

Before Bucky could register what you said you had already typed in the biggest number you could enter and began flipping down through channels. Surfing through the empty screens, you landed on one called HotNet and suddenly the screen was completely taken over by a pair of boobs which then cut to a woman on her back and a man on top of her, rutting into her at a slow pace, while her moans echoed throughout the apartment. You quickly shuffled with the remote, trying to turn the volume down from it’s loud setting, spooked at the loud, obscene noise coming from the speaker.

“Oh my gosh, I wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed into Bucky’s chest, “God, I hope your neighbors didn’t hear that.”

Bucky stared at the screen with wide eyes, hoping you would change the channel before noticing that the channel was in the On Demand section. You gasped through your laugh, collecting yourself before turning back to the TV and shaking your head.

“Jeez, I didn’t even know they still had porn like this on public television.” You looked back down at the remote, clicking the Guide button. Bucky’s heart stopped as the description took over the screen, the video still playing in the top right corner. In bold letters the words On Demand titled the card. Even worse, the bottom of the screen displayed a small box containing the information,

$19.99

purchased with debit card xxxx-9758

You furrowed your brows in confusion, realization slowly softening them, before a mischievous smirk took over your face. You lifted your head to look at Bucky, his face looked down at your lap, refusing to meet your eyes. You tapped the bottom of his chin with the remote, lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“Did you order TV porn, Jamie?” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice, and you only ever used that nickname when joking around, yet Bucky still felt extremely embarrassed. He felt as if he just got walked in on while touching himself. It didn’t help that it was you that saw it, he wanted to crawl in a hole and never look back.

“Ah, you’re blushing,” you squealed as you took his cheeks in your hands, “oh come on, it’s not that embarrassing Bucky.”

“Ugh, can we please pretend you didn’t just see that,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes to escape your stare. He set down the ice cream next to him and lifted his forearm over his eyes.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself and pushing up to swing your leg under you to the other side of his lap, you straddled him.

“Hey, it’s really not that bad. I mean we’ve had sex before Buck, I think you’d rather have me find this than Sam or someone else.” He let out another groan and lowered his head to lean against your neck.

“Angel, please don’t talk about Sam while you’re on top of me and there’s porn playing on the TV.”

You laughed and ran your hands down his arms, letting one of your hands run up behind his neck and weaving your fingers into his hair. You gripped the back of his head and gently tugged him back up to face you.

“Why,” you sang, deciding to have some fun with him in his flustered state, “is this turning you on?” you whispered the last part.

Before he could respond you leaned down and kissed him. You didn’t bother to start off slow as you usually would, Bucky could taste the hunger from every parting of your lips. His hands gripped your waist, you rocked your weight forwards to rub against him. Bucky’s head clouded, his senses felt overloaded in the best way possible, your movements mixed with the sounds of the moaning coming from the TV were getting him hot. You pulled back before getting too carried away, a smile on your swollen lips.

“So, baby, tell me about it.” You said. It was Bucky’s turn to furrow his brows and he cocked his head to the side in question, mind still foggy from the feeling of you grinding on him.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” you clarified, looking at him like you just asked what his favorite color was.

“Uhm, you want to know about that stuff?” Bucky looked at you with caution, feeling out if he should listen to you or not.

“Well, yeah. I mean I don’t know how it was back then, but most people nowadays watch porn. It’s not super taboo to talk about it,” you explained. You weren’t going to force him to talk about it if he really didn’t want to, but your desire to hear what Bucky was into was strong.

He hesitated for a moment, looking in your eyes and seeing curiosity clouded with lust. He cleared his throat.

“Well, pretty much this stuff,” he gestured with his hand to the TV before putting it back on your waist, “there’s this girl on there, she kinda looks like you, so I buy the videos with her.” He closed his eyes and internally groaned at his words, he didn’t mean to come off so perverted. God, you had already found his porn, the last thing he needed was for you to be thinking he was a creep.

“Y’know that’s actually kinda sweet,” you giggled, “what do you like about those videos?”

Feeling a bit more comfortable knowing you weren’t grossed out, Bucky continued.

“I like the ones where it’s dark and slow. It’s usually quiet and there’s candles and stuff,” he explained shyly. Of all the surprises that came with dating Bucky, you had to admit finding out he was into romantic porn was one of the biggest ones.

Bucky cleared his throat again before questioning you, “Do you watch porn?” He felt almost wrong asking that. He knew that women in this age were more sexually liberated, but the words still felt sticky in his mouth.

“Oh, yeah, of course I do.” Bucky seemed surprised at how casually you answered. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking you to go on.

“Well specifically, I actually really like the videos that are like this,” you said, your head looking down at you straddling him, he followed your gaze, taking in how nice you felt on his lap. You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest. Your faces were so close your noses were almost touching. You could feel his rapid heart beat under your palm and the quick rise and fall of his chest. “Do you ever watch the ones that look like this, Bucky?” He looked up at you and nodded with wide eyes, his pupils were blown and his mouth was open like he was searching for the words to respond.

You grasped his jaw in your hand, your thumb on his chin, and looked him in the eyes. You wanted nothing more than to jump his bones, but with the newfound knowledge you had, you took your time with your actions. Within the last five minutes, Bucky had revealed to you not only that he liked soft, romantic porn, but that he also watched a specific actress because she looks like you. The one goal in your head was to fulfill his fantasy the best you could at the moment.

With his head still in your hand, you held your eye contact as you let your knees move out, grinding yourself against his growing erection. He let out an involuntary whimper. That was the last straw. You pulled his face to yours, joining him in a hard, yet loving kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pushing your chest against his, trying to get as close as possible.

Bucky’s dick was painfully hard. He couldn’t focus on anything but the feeling of you on top of him. His body felt like it was on fire, he was insatiably horny and couldn’t control the way his hips bucked up to grind with you. He felt like a horny teenager the way his mind was filled only with images of you naked, imagining you like that on top of him like you were now.

You slipped your tongue past his lips, keeping your pace slow as you glided it across and bit at his lower lip. A moan made its way out of your mouth and into his as you felt him buck up against you.

You slid your hands down his chest, fumbling with the hem of his shirt before his arms raised, giving you access to peel it off him, throwing it up on the couch. Bucky kissed down your neck, licking over the shell of your ear, and sucking at the center of your throat. He reached down and slipped his hands under your shirt, sliding up and down your waist before gliding up and lifting your shirt over your head, discarding it with his.

Bucky wasted no time reaching around you and unclipping your bra and dragging it down your shoulders. He cupped your breasts, squeezing them with his large hands before bringing you into another tender kiss. Despite your frantic movements, there was a spark of passion cracking through the air, the both of you desperate to feel each other closer.

You broke the kiss, breathing heavily and resting your forehead against his.

“I wanna make love to you, y/n, please, let me make love to you,” he groaned with a slight whine in his voice. He sounded like he was about to crack.

“Please, Bucky.”

You leaned back on your hands and lifted your hips, giving Bucky the room to pull down your shorts and panties in a few swift tugs. He quickly got up on his knees and pulled down his sweats and boxers, sitting back down and tugging them off his legs. You reached your arms forward, Bucky grabbing a hold of your wrists and pulling you back to straddle him again. You gasped at the feeling of his cock under your bare pussy, your wetness from all the grinding and kissing making you slide over him.

You leaned forwards, capturing his lips between yours and raising yourself up on your knees. Reaching under yourself, you gripped his cock, wet with your arousal, and lined him up with your cunt. Bucky gripped your hips as you sank down on him, using every ounce of self control to stop himself from rutting up into you. You stayed like that for a second, adjusting to the way he filled you. Seeing the remote lying on the floor, you grabbed it and slightly turned up the volume, only enough so that you and Bucky could hear the actress in the video being ravished by her co-star.

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you began to slowly move up and down over him, riding him just as you had told him you liked to watch. His hands moved up from your waist, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples in between his fingers. You let out a hiss as he rolled them between his fore finger and his thumb, tugging on and rubbing his thumbs over them. He reached around to grab your ass, squeezing and rubbing your cheeks and you used him to pleasure yourself.

You were a moaning mess over him and he wasn’t much different. The room was filled with the sounds of the porn playing on the TV mixed with the sounds of your own cries of pleasure. If the neighbors hadn’t been woken up by the TV, they sure were by you two.

Bucky sat back on his knees, his hands slid down to your thighs, moving your legs from under them and wrapping your legs around his back. His arms worked their way back up to wrap around your waist, bringing you ever so close. The new angle pushed him even deeper up into you. He buried his head in the crook of your neck, giving you access to all the sweet, desperate sounds falling from his lips.

You were now pushing up with your feet behind him, rolling your hips over his. The new technique made your clit rub over his pelvis, the sensation making you throw your head back and let out a deep moan. He took the opportunity to continue kissing your neck, going lower with every lick and bite. He sucked at your collarbone, leaving a deep purple mark in its place.

Suddenly, he was using his arms to lift you up, not pulling out of you, and laying you down on the blanket-covered floor. You instinctively locked your ankles together, pulling him closer as he thrusted into you. Bucky had his metal arm holding himself up while his flesh one squeezed your breasts, feeling them move with his thrusts. He lowered his head to your chest and licked one of your nipples, grazing his teeth over it before taking it in between his lips and sucking. Your hands flew to the back of his head, singing praises as you wove your fingers into his hair. He continued to alternate between your breasts, leaving love bites around them and sucking on their sensitive peaks.

You could feel your body buzz with anticipation, you were so close. The moans escaping your mouth were lewd and uncontrolled. Bucky wrapped his flesh hand around your waist, lifting your chest flush against his.

You snaked your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up to kiss him. Nothing felt better than making love with Bucky felt. This was definitely not the first time you two had been intimate, but none of those previous times had ever been like this. You could feel the passion flowing through his body into yours. You looked up at his form over you, how beautiful he looked with the light of the TV screen glistening against the beads of sweat on his forehead. There was absolutely nothing in the world compared to having him, in all his beauty, to yourself like this.

Bucky’s heart was exploding in his chest. What had started out as an embarrassing, nightmare-fueled night had turned into the most intimate experience he ever had in his life. Love was already established in your relationship, but Bucky had never truly made love to you. He looked down in awe at your disheveled state, at the way your hair was sticking to your forehead, at the way the only light in the room gave you an angelic glow. He wanted nothing more than to give himself completely to you, to make you come all over him.

He leaned his forehead against yours, pushing his face forward once every few seconds to kiss you. He was close, and he wanted you to come with him. He leaned into you even more, his cheek pressed against yours, his lips next to your ear.

“I love you so much, y/n, God, you feel so good. I love you, I love you,” Bucky’s voice was deep and strained, his words being emphasized by each push into your wet pussy. You let out another loud moan.

“I love you, James,” you whined as he hit your sweet spot, “I love you so much.”

Bucky’s hand wedged itself in between the two of you, his fingers finding your clit and gently rubbing it. You were completely overwhelmed, this is what it felt like to make love to someone. Your body began to shake and your breathing became erratic. Bucky thrusted harder, working to push you over the edge.

“I want you to come in me, Bucky,” you gasped as his thrusts got faster and lost their rhythm.

Your mouth turned open in a silent scream as you came. Bucky felt your walls clench around him, squeezing the life out of him. He let out a shaky groan as he fell over the edge. His eyes shut tight and his body tensed as he spilled into you.

Wrapping his metal arm around your back and securing your body to his, he rolled on his flesh shoulder onto his back. You went limp against him, laying your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat slow down. He was still buried within you, connected to you. Letting your eyelids fall shut, you savored the feeling of being full of him and his love.

You lifted your head to kiss his jaw.

“I’m glad you called me, Bucky. I love you.”

“I am too, doll. I love you more.”

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fluffy smut #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Note

fixing their jacket collar or hood for anyone :) congratulations on 700 again and i hope u have the loveliest of lovely days

You Better Beleaf It

Elide Lochan x Lorcan Salvaterre - Autumn Leaves

Elide drags Lorcan out to look at the changing leaves. He’ll deny it if you ask, but he enjoyed himself.

I know it took me a while to answer this but I thought it'd be a perfect little autumn fic 🍁 I hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist | Read on Ao3 | Halloween Collection

Warnings: Language

1898 words

*******

“Remind me again why we’re out here?” Lorcan drawled from beside her.

Elide rolled her eyes but continued to take pictures of the trees.

They’d both had the day off and she insisted they drive over to the nature reserve to look at the changing leaves. They’d parked on the side of a quiet road and had spent the last twenty minutes enjoying the views and the breeze.

She knew that as much as he was complaining, her boyfriend was just as happy to be out here with her. Okay, maybe not as happy, Autumn was her favorite season after all and she would admit that maybe, possibly she something went a little overboard in her obsession with the season.

But how could she not love the way all the coffee shops started smelling like pumpkin and caramel, or how she could wear her (and Lorcan’s) flannel and leather as much as she wanted, or how the leaves on the trees became such beautiful, bright colors.

Not to mention being able to deck their entire apartment out in Halloween décor. She’d lost count of how many bats, pumpkins, and ghosts now littered their walls and rooms.

And a lot of it was black, so Lorcan felt right at home.

“We’re out here,” she told him again, “because the leaves are changing color and it’s a beautiful day.”

He rolled his eyes but kept her hand snug in his. “But why are you taking so many pictures?” he asked as she lifted her phone to get a better angle of a canopy of trees. He waved his free hand around at the leaves. “This happens every year, are your thousands of pictures today going to look different form the thousands you took last year? Or yesterday?”

Elide halted and used her grip on Lorcan’s hand to pull him to a stop. “First of all, its magical so shut up.” She ginned as he loosed a long-suffering sigh. “Second of all,” she pressed herself closer to Lorcan and spun the phone around as she reached out a hand and attempted to take a selfie of the two of them, “it is different because this particular picture isn’t in my batch from last year. Or yesterday.”

She flicked through her phone to see the photo she just took and frowned.

“What?” Lorcan asked, stepping behind her to rest his chin on top of her head. “not up to your postable standards?”

She laughed and leaned farther back into his warm chest. “Look at it,” she showed him the photo. “The top of your head is cut off and the part of your face that I can see is frowning. And the lighting wasn’t great.”

She felt more than heard his chest rumble as he chuckled. “That’s what happens, El, when you try to use your tiny arm to get us both in the photo.”

She huffed and pressed her phone into his hand. “It’s not my fault you’re a giant.”

“No,” he brought his mouth down towards her ear and she shivered as his breath caressed her skin. “But you love it.” She could feel him smirking.

She was grinning but squeezed his arms as she said, “I’d love it even more you used your obscenely long arms to take a picture of the two of us.”

Lorcan nipped at her ear but took the phone from her and opened the camera. He took a sweet photo of the two of them, Elide pressed against his chest with one arm wrapped around her and the other holding the phone, with the brilliant reds and golds of the leaves behind them.

“Come on, Lor, smile for the camera!” She watched him roll his eyes through the camera screen, but his lips lifted to form a small half-smile. He clicked the button a few more times.

Just as Elide was ready to take her phone back, she caught a wicked gleam in his eye. She narrowed her eyes, but he’d already used his grip around her waist to hoist her in the air and up into his arms. She squealed at the sudden movement and felt him laugh at her reaction. She wrapped her arms around his neck as she sheard the click of her phone again.

Lorcan grinned as he set her back on her feet and handed her the phone.

“Babe, these are perfect,” she beamed before gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.

“Good,” he muttered while draping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. “Now can we just walk without taking a picture every two steps?”

Elide rolled her eyes but wrapped her arm around Lorcan's waist and letting her hand slide into his back pocket. “I’ll put it away for now, but I won’t promise I won’t be taking any more.”

They followed the pavement until it ended, then continued through the grass-covered path. The sun was moving across the sky and beams of sunlight filtered through the colorful leaves. At one point, Lorcan helped her over a particular tall log before they found a stream weaving through the reserve.

“Hang on a minute, I want to wash some of this gunk off my hands.” She told him as she approached the water. She’d tried pushing a branch out of her way only to get a handful of wet mud probably left by some animal scampering up the tree.

Elide quickly rinsed her hands off, hissing at how icy the water felt. As hastily as she could, she plucked her hands out and dried them on her sweater.

Unfortunately, the frigid water only made her realize how chilly the evening had become. She and Lorcan had been walking long enough that the sun was starting to set, and the wind had picked up, leaving her still-damp hands to freeze.

Lorcan was sitting on the edge of a large rock and looked up from his phone as she walked back towards him. “Better?”

“Mhmm.” She agreed, stepping in between his spread legs. “But I think we should head back.”

He smirked and gripped her hips, pulling her closer. “Oh really? Have you finally had enough of the trees?”

“Don’t mock me.” She glared at him, but it lacked any real anger. An involuntary shiver racked through her body and she clenched her teeth as she said, “It’s cold, let's go back. It’s gonna take us a while to walk to the car.”

She made to step out of his grip, but he held her tighter, frowning as she kept shivering. His hands left her hips and started rubbing up and down her arms, trying to help her warm up. “Why didn’t you say anything? We could’ve turned back a while ago.”

She reached up and brushed a finger over the furrowed skin at his brow, loving the feeling of his large hands roaming over her body. “I didn’t notice it before.” She said, rolling her eyes.

He pulled his phone out and glanced at the clock. His frown deepened. “We’ve got at least an hour of walking if we don’t stop for anymore pictures.” He told her and raised a brow in question.

She huffed but nodded. “Fine, no more pictures.”

Lorcan put his phone back in his pocket and chuckled. “You’re the one who’s cold, if you want to stop it’ll just take longer to get back to the car.”

She hummed in agreement. “I’m looking forward to those heated seats.”

He flashed her a small grin before nudging her backward so he could stand from the rock. The second his hands left her body, she started shivering again which only brought Lorcan’s frown back in full force.

“Here.” He unzipped and shrugged off his jacket and before she could protest and swung it around to hang off her shoulders.

“Lor, I don’t want to take your jacket.” She protested, but it came out weak as she already felt the warmth seep back into her.

He raised a brow and his lips quirked up at her half-assed refusal. “I think I can survive the chill,” he held the coat as she maneuvered each of her arms into the far-too-long sleeves. “You, on the other hand, are already shaking so hard I can hear your teeth chattering.”

Lorcan waited until she got the jacket zipped before helping her roll up the sleeves. It was almost comical how much longer his arms were then here, and she told him as much. He just rolled his eyes.

Finally, his hands traced up her arms and over her shoulders to flip down the collar of the jacket that had gotten rumpled.

Lorcan met her stare, his hands still clutching the edges of the collar, and used his grip to pull her closer towards him. Their lips crashed together and Elide moved her hands to wrap around his middle, pulling him flush against her.

One of his hands moved to her hair, weaving his fingers through it to help tilt her head to a better angle. Her hands came to rest of his ass and he smirked into the kiss as she gave a squeeze.

He laughed as he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. “Really, Lochan?”

Elide grinned and squeezed again. “Get me back home and I’ll let you do more than that to me.” She winked as his smirk widened.

“You think you can wait that long?” he snaked a hand down her back until it rested over her ass. She opened her mouth to reply but he brought his hand down in a light slap that made her choke on her words. He grinned even wider.

She pulled away and smirked as she held out her hand for him. “Come on, Salvaterre. Before I freeze and you end up with an icicle for a girlfriend.”

Lorcan huffed a laugh but grabbed her hand and pulled her back into his side as they started to walk towards their car.

“An icicle would spend less time taking pictures.” He teased.

She gasped. “I’m going to do you a favor and pretend you didn’t say that.”

Once they got back on the paved path Lorcan asked, “So, did the leaves live up to your expectations? Or do I have another scenic tour to dread.”

“Oh hush,” she poked his stomach. “don’t pretend like you didn’t have a good time. You can tell everyone else that you spent the afternoon brooding as your girlfriend selfishly dragged you through a horrendous afternoon,” she rolled her eyes, “but I have proof that you enjoyed yourself.”

“Proof? Is that right?” he raised a brow but grinned down at her.

“See!” She pointed at his grin. “That right there. I have proof of that.”

Lorcan grunted but squeezed her a little tighter. “Oh?”

Elide patted the pocket of her—Lorcan’s—jacket that held her phone. “I have photographic evidence that the mean, grumpy, brutish Lorcan Salvaterre,’ she paused dramatically, “smiles.”

He shook his head and laughed at her excited grin.

“Not only that,” she went on, “but proof that he had fun while looking at autumn leaves.” She gasped mockingly.

“Ha ha.” he deadpanned. “You’re hilarious.”

Her grin turned feline, and her eyes twinkled before she said, “You better beleaf it.”

His groan and her laughter echoed through the trees as they finally got back to their car.

*****

Taglist:

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#elorcan #elide #lorcan #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan x lorcan salvaterre #elide and lorcan #lorcan and elide #elide x lorcan #lorcan x elide #elorcan fluff #elorcan fic #elorcan au #halloween #fall #autumn #leaves #throne of glass #tog

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fanficimagery · 4 years

Text

A Fangy Fetish

Imagine finally coming home to your family, only to realize there's something other about your little brother and his friends. But that's okay because you're not exactly the same as you were when you first left either. It's a surprising change, but one you're more than okay with after meeting Peter Hale.

Trigger Warnings: Brief conversation about death, an abusive relationship and a brief scene of spiking one's drink. Author’s Note: Pls don’t ask about the title. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking XD

Passing up the welcome sign to Beacon Hills should fill you with glee since it's been forever that you've seen your mom and brother, but it merely makes you squirm in your seat since there was a good reason you had stayed away in the first place. And now- now you're meeting with them for the first time since you've changed and you're not sure how it should make you feel.

Your mom hasn't moved from your childhood home and as far as you knew your brother didn't have plans to move out until he had completed vet school, so it's not too hard to track them down. There's no vehicle in the driveway, but the opened curtains to the front windows showcase flickering lights from a TV being cast against the wall. Then cutting the engine, you tuck your hair behind your left ear and angle your ear towards the house to listen. After zoning out various noises, you can hear a TV show playing and your mother's familiar voice muttering obscenities when she sees something she doesn't agree with. There's no other voices or heartbeats so you figure your brother must be out.

Exhaling a nervous sigh, you pull down the visor and check your reflection in the small mirror being lit up by two small lights on either side of it. Then after making sure there's nothing on your face or at the corner of your eyes and mouth, you push the visor back up and then make your way out of the car. Walking up the steps to the front path and then the front path to the house porch, you nervously close the distance to the front door. You hesitate only a second before pressing the doorbell and then step back as you hear your mother pause her show and get up to see who it is.

The door opens and you can't help but smile when you see realization set in and Melissa McCall's eyes widen. "Y/N?"

"Hey, mom."

"Oh my god. Sweetheart!" She closes the distance between the two of you, arms wrapping tightly around you as you laugh and return her embrace. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

"It was a split second decision," you tell her, letting her pull back and look you up and down to make sure you're really there. "Then I figured a surprise was in order."

She practically beams. "Come on. Come in," she says. "Oh I can't wait until Scott gets home. He's going to be so happy."

"Yeah, I can't wait to see Scotty either. It's been way too long."

Following your mom, you warily eye the doorway before stepping inside and the various scents of your childhood home make your chest ache with memories you had pushed to the back of your mind. Everything still smells familiar, even if there is a new underlying scent that makes you a little anxious and nose twitch.

"So what have you been up to?" She asks. The two of you settle in the living room and she's quick to turn off the TV in order to give you her full attention. "Catch me up."

"Well," you nervously chuckle, "there's not much to tell. School and work have kept me busy, and then there was this guy-"

"A boy?!" She gasps. "Tell me more."

"For a year," you tell her, your smile faltering. "I was with him for a year when I finally realized our relationship wasn't exactly healthy. The break was pretty amicable, but my trust in him was completely broken."

Melissa's mood immediately drops. "Oh sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I'm okay now." Your mom looks so heartbroken all of a sudden that you can't help but scoot closer and pull her into a hug again. "Don't be sad," you chuckle. "It's part of growing up. If I didn't go through some stuff, I wouldn't be the person I am today. And let me tell you, I really like the person I am now."

Your mom sniffles. "Well if you're happy.."

"More than," you assure her. "I mean, I could probably use a little more fun between the sheets, but-"

"Y/N!" Melissa pulls back, shock etched into her features. "I am still your mother, young lady."

You burst out laughing, quickly leaning in to peck your mother's cheek. "I know, mom. Just wanted you to stop being sad. It worked."

A moment passes and her shoulders sag. She starts to laugh with you and you're so distracted by cheering her up that you don't hear the car parking outside or the steady heartbeat getting closer and closer. It's only when the front door opens that you freeze, your mom's smile widening.

"Hey, mom, whose car is out front?" Scott rounds the corner and you're surprised at how much your little brother has grown. He stares at you, eyes widening, before a very familiar and very missed crooked smile overtakes his features. "Y/N!"

You're laughing again as Scott practically rushes you, his arms tight around you in a welcoming embrace. He's warm, like really warm, and he has a very distinctive earthly smell. But that can't be right because as far as you knew the werewolf gene did not run in your family's DNA.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asks, squeezing you one last time before letting you go and then putting you at arm's length to look you up and down. He looks between you and your mom, smiling the entire time.

"Thought it was about time I came over for a visit." You shrug. "School is on break and my boss said I needed to cash in my vacation days or I'd lose them."

"I don't even know your boss, but I already love him. If he made you come home, he's okay in my books."

You chuckle, punching Scott lightly on the arm. You open your mouth to reply, but a frantic beeping reaches your ears. You and Scott look at your mom when she frowns, she then walking over towards the kitchen and picking up a beeper. She sighs and looks towards you and your brother, apologetically. "It's the hospital."

"Say no more," you tell her.

"Don't worry. Stiles will be stoked to see Y/N so we'll keep her busy for a while."

"Stiles?" You slowly smirk. "He still a little heathen?"

"Worse." Melissa snorts. "So much worse."

As Melissa gets ready for a shift that has been passed on to her, Scott convinces you to go surprise Stiles who's in town for the week. He hasn't stopped smiling the entire time he's set eyes on you, but every now and then you see his expression falter as he stares curiously at you before shaking off whatever it is and going back to his happy self.

The three of you head outside, you and Scott promising Melissa to be home in time for some breakfast before watching her drive off. You and Scott then climb into your own car, and he happily directs you towards the outskirts of town to a seemingly abandoned building.

"What is this place?" You ask, turning off your car and then climbing out.

"An apartment building. Friend of a friend likes his privacy so he bought the building. The only occupied portion of it is the loft at the very top."

"Nice," you quietly muse as you follow after him. But very quickly you come to a certain realization and stumble to a halt. "So he owns the entire building? Privately?"

"Well yeah," Scott says. "Why?"

"Oh no reason." You try to play it off, nonchalant. "I just- I rather not barge in without meeting the guy. Walking in uninvited is bad manners."

Your brother huffs. "It's just Derek. He won't care."

"Yeah, but I will."

Digging your heels in on this, Scott sighs. "Seriously, Y/N. Derek won't mind. You can wait down here all you want, but Derek won't waste his time coming down here just to tell you to come in."

"Can't you call him?"

Seeing your pout, Scott rolls his eyes but the amused little smile doesn't go missed. "Sure. Fine." He pulls out his phone and quickly presses the contact he's looking for. Phone then put on speaker, you flash him a small smile in gratitude.

"What do you want, McCall?"

"So I have a friend down here with me and she's really adamant that she gets an invite from you before we head upstairs. She says it's bad manners to just walk on in."

The guy scoffs. "Whatever. Come in."

Well that should do it. Hopefully.

"Happy now?" Scott puts his phone away after the call is abruptly ended and leads the way inside. "Now hurry up. I wanna see Stiles flip out." You follow him, briefly hesitating at the main door before exhaling silently in relief when you're permitted entry.

The metal, cage-like elevator gives you pause, but Scott promises it works just fine. So after settling inside and vowing to kill him if the elevator fails and falls, Scott presses the button for the loft at the very top of the building. Once stopped, you're then led towards a sliding metal door which Scott readily opens. Again you hesitate, but cross the threshold with no problem.

There are two men in the loft, one whose movements are very familiar and brings a smile to your face. The other one, the one with the dark hair and scruff, well it looks like he's scenting the air until his hardened gaze lands on you. But Stiles, who'd been preoccupied by tell him a story, immediately ceases talking to see what the problem is. And when his gaze lands on you, his jaw drops open and you can't help but snort.

"Holy shit. Y/N?"

"Goddamn, Stilinski," you muse. "You grew up in all the right places." Scott groans and you laugh when Stiles' awed expression turns a bit smug. From one second to the next he's moving and making a beeline for you, the two of you colliding in a hug which he rocks you side to side in. "It's nice to see you too, Stiles."

"How long are you here for? Dad will be happy to see you."

"Two weeks," you tell him as he pulls away. "And I can't wait to see Noah. It's been ages."

"I'm all for reunions," the guy who you're assuming is Derek says, "but why the hell would you guys let me invite a vampire into my home?"

Scott scoffs, Stiles freezes, and you frown at the new guy. This was not how you wanted the news broken to Scott. Your moment of anger, however, is overridden by the fact that there's no immediate denial of the supernatural from either your brother or his best friend.

"My sister isn't-"

"What are you?" You ask, cutting Scott off, glaring at Derek. "You smell wolfish, but so does my brother. Last I knew there was no wolf gene in our family line."

"Y/N, what?" Scott then asks. "You're not- tell him you're not a vampire."

Your gaze slides to Scott and you smile sadly at him. "I'm sorry. I can't do that." He tenses and Stiles takes a few steps back, and your heart breaks. "I promise to explain everything here in a bit, but tell me what's going on. Please. You don't smell human, Scotty, and neither does Eyebrows over there."

Scott gulps and nods, eyes filling with tears that refuse to fall. "Derek Hale comes from a family of werewolves. I'm sure you remember the Hale family before you left for college." There's a huff and you warily eye Derek as he rolls his eyes. Scott clears his throat and continues. "At the start of my sophomore year, I was bitten by a rogue alpha. I turned."

"Huh. I've never met a wolf that could turn someone with a bite."

"Never met a-" Stiles starts, only to stop and redirect his line of thoughts. "Wait, there are other types of werewolves?"

You shrug. "Well, yeah."

Stiles opens his mouth to retort, but Derek is quick to shut him down. "You can get your supernatural fix later, Stiles. Right now, Scott's sister has some explaining to do." By now he's nearly shoulder to shoulder with Stiles, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you.

The guy's gruff, but since he's not outright threatening you, you don't get defensive. "Um, I died about two years ago."

"You died?!" Both Scott and Stiles yelp.

Your lips press into a thin line as you nod. Scott frowns. "Two years ago is when you stopped coming home to visit."

"I-I had to." You glance at your brother as the first tear falls, but you're quick to wipe it away. "About a year prior to dying, I fell in love with a local. Everything was fine. I was happy," you say. "But as the months passed, I started to realize that there were blank spots in my memories. Some days I'd wake up with bruises I couldn't explain or wake up completely exhausted to the point that I couldn't get out of bed. No one, other than myself, realized something was wrong."

"What happened?" Scott quietly asks.

You sniffle, smiling sadly. "My boyfriend. He was a vampire, only I didn't know it until I was one myself."

"Why only after? Surely you could tell something was up when you were with him," Stiles says.

You shake your head, but it's Derek who says. "Vampires can manipulate the mind. It's one reason my mom wasn't very trusting of them."

"He's right. Our kind can compel people- make them forget something happened or plant memories that never existed," you admit. "As it so happened, my boyfriend was feeding off of me without my consent. And when he took too much, I would pass out and then wake up extremely weakened without a clue as to why. Most of the time he compelled me to think that I was fine- that nothing was wrong with me."

"How'd you figure it all out?" Your brother wonders.

You exhale softly. "I went out partying with some friends. On our way back, my friend lost control of the car and slammed into a tree. I died, but I died with vampire blood in my system." All three guys shift uneasily of learning about the ingested blood, so you quickly explain how it got there in the first place. "When my boyfriend was too rough with me, he'd feed me his blood since vampire blood has healing capabilities. The only downfall of ingesting vampire blood is that if you die while it's still lingering in your system, you wake up in transition."

"Which means you had to feed on human blood," Derek says.

"Yes." Stiles and Scott grimace. "I had woken up in the hospital morgue and found my way to the blood bank. It was- it was a clusterfuck," you admit smally. "I gorged, I cried, and I unknowingly compelled the doctors to make them think that I was fine and then fled the hospital as soon as I could. Fortunately for me, there was another vampire at school. When she realized I was newly turned and I told her what I knew, she felt sorry for me. And since I was a vampire myself now, all my compelled memories started to rush back. She helped me break up with my vampire boyfriend and then took me under her wing. She taught me how to control the bloodlust and introduced me to a witch who made me a piece of daylight jewelry so I'd be able to walk in the sun."

Scott and Stiles appear floored by your story, but it's Derek whose expression has yet to falter. "I have one question," he says. You nod, waiting. "Are you here to cause drama for Beacon Hills?"

"No. Never," you immediately answer him. "I honestly just came for mom and Scott. I didn't expect any supernatural to be here at all or even that my baby brother was part of it now too."

"Okay then." His stern expression briefly falters so he flashes a quick smile. "Then welcome home, I guess."

You huff a quiet laugh. "Thanks. I'm Y/N, by the way. Scott's older sister."

"Derek Hale, co-alpha to the McCall/Hale pack."

"Co-alpha, huh. Does that mean," you trail off and glance at your brother, smiling when his eyes flash red at you. "Cool. The werewolves I know can't do that. They're really only dangerous when they've transformed under a full moon. Other than that, they're as human as can be."

"I have so many questions," Stiles muses.

Derek huffs in amusement. "Don't bother. We have books on other breeds of the same species. I just never brought them out because, until now, vampires never stepped foot in Beacon Hills and we didn't have to worry about other breeds of werewolves." He turns and walks back to a metal table where various books are opened, and busies himself by browsing the pages. Stiles is quick to follow after him and pester him about these so-called books.

Scott steps closer to you, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans as he smiles sheepishly. "So you're fine?" He wonders. "You're not gonna fang out and drain us of our blood?"

"What?" You snort. "No. If I wanted to drain you or anyone else, I'd have done it when everyone was hugging me and my mouth was literal inches from your throats. I'm fine. You guys have nothing to worry about."

"But you drink blood?"

"I do, although I tend to stick to blood bags from a hospital. If I drink straight from the vein, I only take enough to soothe the thirst and then quickly compel the person to eat a snack or go home and nap."

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

You pause. Scott stares at you, and even Derek and Stiles go eerily quiet after the question. You sigh. "Does it matter?" Scott shrugs and you hate you have to admit this. "Yes. My first victim was an accident. It happened when my friend was teaching me how to feed properly and I lost control. It happened twice more, but I was able to save those two individuals before their hearts stopped."

"Any on purpose?" Derek asks from his side of the room.

"A few." You gulp. "The moment a hunter learns you're a vampire, you're apparently fair game. If I have to take a life to keep my own, I will. Dying is not fun and I don't plan on doing it again any time soon." You notice Scott frowns at your answer, but Derek and Stiles hum before accepting your answer as appropriate. And not wanting to get into a discussion of right or wrong, you paste on a smile and change the subject. "So anyway, what else have I missed? Any girlfriends I should know about? Or boyfriends? I don't judge."

Derek snorts and Scott flashes you a crooked smile. "Actually, yeah. My girlfriend and Derek's are out right now buying some stuff to throw a party."

"Oohhh. Do these girlfriends have names?"

"Yeah. Malia and Kira," Stiles says. "Malia's my ex-girlfriend and Derek's long lost cousin, but now she's Scott's girlfriend. And Kira is Scott's ex-girlfriend who is now Derek's girlfriend."

"That is.. weird," you say, chuckling softly. "But cool, I guess, if you guys seem to have no problem with it."

"We're all pack," Scott tells you. "We're more than fine with it."

"And I'm actually dating Lydia Martin," Stiles says, "but she's super busy with school which is why she's not here."

"Lydia Martin?" Your nose wrinkles. "Snooty Martin?"

"Hey!" Stiles quickly reprimands you. "She's not so bad anymore. Not after finding out she was a banshee."

"Hold up. What?"

"Yeah. Lydia's a banshee." He shrugs. "Kira's a kitsune and Malia's a werecoyote."

"Holy shit. What the hell has Beacon Hills come to?"

"That's nothing," Derek says. "If you had been here all along, you'd have seen a lot more than just that. Beacon Hills is a beacon for crazy."

"Yeah. No shit."

What little tension that had been lingering finally vanishes and everyone shares a friendly laugh. But when a newcomer enters the apartment, it has your hackles rising.

"Ugh. Who let a bloodsucking fiend in?"

The elder gentleman that enters is rather attractive, but the scowl he's directing in your direction leaves you scowling back. "Aren't you a little old to be wearing v-necks?"

"And aren't you a little new to be taunting the big bad wolf?"

You hiss. "Do we like this guy?"

Without missing a beat, Derek says, "On occasion."

"Good." Then before anyone can blink, you use your vampiric speed to appear inches from the newcomer, grab him by the throat and pin him to the floor. Stiles and Scott yelp at your sudden movements, but you pay them no mind as you snarl in the wolf's face. "You don't wanna get on my bad side."

The wolf blinks in surprise and everyone seems to hold their breath. You see movement out of the corner of your eye, but since it's slow you don't bother to act on it. Instead, fingers gently touch your face before a thumb brushes on the underside of your left eye where you know small black veins are pulsing. "Beautiful."

You freeze and slowly ease up on the wolf. "What?"

He smirks. "If you wanted me on my back, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask." Derek, Stiles and Scott all groan. "Peter Hale, at your service."

"Y/N McCall," you hesitantly introduce yourself. Climbing off of him and steadily walking on your own two feet, you can't help but knock him down a peg when you see his expression. "And don't look too smug. The other Hale is hotter."

Meeting Malia and Kira was rather interesting, especially when you saw what they were face to face rather than just hearing about it. Seeing Scott and Malia shift almost left you speechless, but seeing Kira left you in complete awe. They had then asked to see you and Malia was the only one to not balk or make some sort of disgusted facial expression when you mentioned needed a bag of blood soon.

Over the next couple of days, Scott manages to convince you to explain to your mom about your new status as a vampire, as well as Noah Stilinski since both of them knew about the supernatural. And since Noah was like a father figure, you, Scott and Stiles got them together for a family dinner where you told them your story. Noah was angry and your mother was heartbroken, but both accepted you with open arms.

Being with your family and your brother's pack brings you a sense of calm that you haven't felt in a long while. You're easily accepted without question and it's like you've known everyone your entire life with how easily they talk with you. Peter, however, is a completely different story. While he's friendly, just like everyone else, he's a little too friendly. You were more than ready to return the teasing innuendos, but then Scott had to burst your bubble by telling you that he was Malia's biological father. Malia, however, is quick to assure you that she and Peter have a rocky relationship and that she doesn't care who Peter chooses to show affection to so long as she didn't have to see it or hear it.

You were hesitant to be so carefree and teasing with Peter afterwards, but the recent lack of male attention had you caving before the week was even over.

"So what happens if your daylight necklace is ripped off?" Stiles asks. It's now Saturday afternoon and everyone is at Derek's, making sure the loft is party ready for later that night. "Do you just burst into flames right then and there?"

"No." You snort. "It starts off as a sizzle and you have seconds to flee to the shadows before bursting into flames." Malia helps you position a keg into a large metal bin, Kira then filling the empty space around it with ice. "And my necklace is spelled. No one other than myself can remove it so I don't have to worry about someone ripping it off."

"I'm not gonna lie, I kind of want to see you burst into flames."

"You're an asshole."

"Actually, I kind of want to see it too," Malia says.

Stiles beams, pointing at Malia and nodding. "See! I'm not the only one."

You glance at Kira and she sheepishly smiles, not even attempting to deter her pack mates who want to see you purposely set yourself on fire. A moment passes before you sigh. "Fine, but you better get me a blood bag or I'm sinking fang into someone's vein."

Stiles is quick to scramble for the kitchen, no doubt making a beeline for one of the few blood bags Derek had tossed into the back of his fridge. You groan but chuckle nonetheless as you look around for the perfect spot and then find it in the corner of the loft just right by the overly large windows. Then settling in the corner with your back against the brick wall, you exhale deeply before carefully reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. Grimacing, you look forward and hold your necklace out for someone to grab. Kira hurriedly steps forward and takes your necklace with gentle hands.

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm doing this." You shakily raise your arm, hand reaching towards the sun rays before your fingers curl into a fist. You sigh, nervously chuckling as you shake your hand out. "Okay. I can do this. It's just a little fire and then I'll heal."

Stiles, Malia and Kira are all eerily silent as they watch you. You're grimacing before the sunlight even touches you and then your whole face is scrunching up when you feel the sizzle before hearing it. Kira gasps and your eyes don't even have to be open to know what they're seeing. Unblemished skin darkening before slowly glowing like burning embers. Seconds later the smoke starts and against your better judgment you hold your ground. At least until you feel your hand igniting in flames and then you're quickly bringing your arm close to your body and patting the fire out.

"Ow, ow, ow." You utter. "Fuck! Give me the blood!"

Stiles is staring at you, wide-eyed, before Malia rolls her eyes and grabs the blood bag from his hands to toss at you. Catching it with one hand, you nod at the werecoyote before dropping fang and biting directly into the bag. At that, Stiles gags. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Pulling your fangs from your snack, you mutter, "Pussy," and then go back to draining the bag.

Stiles gasps in mock offense as the girls chuckle. Your hand had immediately healed after your first gulp, but you drain the bag anyway since you're going to be around a lot of strangers later on.

The loft door slides open and immediately all three wolves wrinkle their noses.

"Why does it smell like burning flesh?" Peter asks. No one says anything, but their eyes slide to you knowingly. You sheepishly smile as you hide the blood bag behind your back. Peter's eyes narrow. "What did you do?"

The heaviness of all their stares makes you squirm. "It was Stiles' idea!"

"Hey!" He barks. "Don't forget about Malia and Kira." Both girls frown at him in betrayal, but he merely shrugs in return. "If I'm going down, I'm taking all of you with me."

All three werewolves sigh, rolling their eyes. Scott and Derek bring in the delicate black lights that need to be fixated around the loft, and the buckets of neon paints. Peter drops whatever was in the brown paper bags he was holding and then saunters towards you. He spots Kira holding your necklace and snatches it from her hands. You subconsciously press your back into the corner, but Peter merely smirks as he unclasps the necklace in his hands and holds it out, waiting to place it around your neck.

"Come on, sweetheart. We don't have all day." Your eyes narrow at his teasing smile and you step towards him so he can put your necklace back on. And since you're facing him, refusing to give him your back, he reaches around you to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. Then letting it settle against your throat, he untucks your hair from the chain and then gently cusps the sides of your neck in his hands while his thumbs brush along your jawline. His smile drops. "Don't do that again. If Stiles wants to see a fire, let the moron set himself ablaze."

"Hey! I heard that."

You blink in surprise at Peter before he takes his leave, only to see the subtly surprised expression Derek is sporting and the sour expression your brother can't help but show. Malia is indifferent to the exchange, Kira looks rather amused, and Stiles is just put out because he was called a moron. Nothing else is said on the matter, so you quickly flee the corner of shadows and get back to work.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has only just begun by the time you send Malia and Kira on their way. You had painted both their faces with wolf-like features- Malia in blue and Kira in orange. You had also painted markings along their collar bones, and swirls and floral patterns up and down their arms. They were prepared to wait for you, but you insisted they head on out and that you'd join them soon enough.

You're left alone in Derek's bathroom, bowls of paint and paintbrushes scattered along the counter top as you determine what you want. Eventually you settle for neon green skeletal features, jagged teeth painted over your lips. You outline your neck and collar bones, and then stand there while you fan yourself so the paint will dry.

The faint sound of creaking catches your attention and you immediately glance towards the doorway. Peter stands there, leaning against the door jamb. "Love the handiwork," he says. "Are you taking any requests?"

You faintly grin at him. "No because then that puts the pressure on me to give you exactly what you want. But if you want me to paint you a surprise, then I'm your girl."

"Hmm. My girl. I think I like the sound of that."

"Of course you do." Your eyes roll, but the quirk of your lips tells him you're amused rather than annoyed. "Now get in here. I'll try and make it quick." Peter pushes off the door jamb and walks in, getting up close and personal to your back. You think he's trying to make you squirm, but you merely frown when you realize just how much taller he is than you when you stare at him in the reflection of the mirror. "Well this isn't going to work," you mutter. Pushing the bowls of paint and paint brushes aside, you turn around and hop onto the counter. "There. That's better."

"So much," he says while stepping into the space between your knees.

Snorting, you let the remark slide and grab his face in your hands. Turning his face this way and that way, you hum as you determine what you're going to paint for him. "Wanna match?" You ask. Then without giving him a chance to answer, you grab the bowl with green paint and a paintbrush. "We're gonna match, but you're only getting half a face because I really need to get out there and dance."

Peter fights off a smile as you grasp his chin with one hand and then quickly dip a paintbrush into the green paint with the other. The moment the loaded brush touches the center of his forehead, however, he schools his features so you have an unwrinkled canvas. The left side of his face gets the skeletal treatment, but when that's done you can't help but dip three fingers into purple paint and drag them down the unpainted side of his face.

He grins afterward. "Does this mean I can mark you back?"

"I don't see why not. Just nothing on my face."

Peter carefully coats his entire hand in pink before he looks at you, eyes darting up and down as he determines where he's going to mark. He smirks and then gently wraps his hand around your throat. He leaves it there, squeezing just so, and you gulp beneath his hand.

"Ooohh. Don't threaten me with a fun time." His eyes flare blue in response and you can feel your own eyes change in return as he drops his hand and slowly leans in. You put a hand on his chest to stop his progression. "Seriously, Hale. If you mess up all my hard work before anyone has a chance to see it, I will rip your jugular out."

Peter growls and you quickly lean in to snap your fangs right in front of his face. He shudders and you chuckle lowly before nudging him back and hopping off the counter. After all, you had a party to attend.

- - - - - - - - - -

The party has a bit more people than you'd expected there to be and even Derek seems a bit surly over how any people are in his home. But the DJ is amazing, the drinks are flowing, and the strobe lights are flashing in tune with the beats.

Everyone is lit up, whether it be their clothing or because of the paint, and you readily slide into the dancing masses. You don't seek out anyone in particular, choosing to dance on your own or anyone who sidles up to you in order to have a good time. But the second they get too handsy for your liking, you're shoving them off and moving on.

You're dancing, swiveling your hips and laughing with a few females who were all too happy to have you join them. You turn around, putting the girls at your back when your hands slide up your neck to gather your hair and hold it up off your neck before letting it fall once more. Your eyes somehow manage to find Peter, but the once teasing wolf looks anything but teasing. In fact, he looks rather pissed. And that- that just won't do.

Pushing through the bodies, you eventually make your way towards Peter from behind and tiptoe so your chin hooks over his shoulder. "So who are we killing?" You muse.

He tenses, but upon realizing who it is he's quick to relax. And without missing a beat, he says, "Two o'clock. Apparently this young man, if you can even call him that, has made the mistake of spiking a drink in hopes of giving it to one of the young ladies here. Fortunately, every female he's tried to pawn it off on has been smart enough to not take the pre-made drink."

His words immediately sour your mood. "Well that just won't do."

Before Peter can stop you, you're falling back onto the balls of your feet and practically skipping towards the guy Peter had been murdering with his eyes. A smile here, a touch there, and whispered promises of a good time goes a very long way and it doesn't take long to have the guy following after you. Then as you're about to pass up Peter with Troy (that was the guy's name, the one who was looking to roofie some poor innocent soul) following you, you flash Peter a wink and mutter follow me just loud enough so that he could hear.

You manage to avoid the rest of the pack as you lead Troy out of the loft and into the hallway, manhandling the all too eager dude-bro against the wall. He's a pretty decent looking dude, but his smug aura and tendency to roofie his potential hook-ups is a major turn off. So you tease him with a pretty smile, leaning in so your lips are just centimeters apart.

"Forgive me. I hope I'm not interrupting."

You pull back, turning half way and grinning at the intruder. There stands Peter, looking like he's not sorry at all. But Troy- Troy is annoyed. "Fuck off, man."

"Well that's no way to talk to your betters," Peter drawls.

"Yeah I gotta admit," you say. "That was a dick thing to say."

Troy glances between you and Peter, scoffing. "Whatever. I can find another girl to get laid by back in the party."

He goes to push off the wall, nudging you out of the way, but your hand lands in the middle of his chest before shoving him back into the wall. "I think not." Then meeting his gaze, you smile cruelly as you say, "Do not make a sound."

Troy's mouth opens as if to tell you off, but not a peep comes out. His eyes widen and Peter chuckles as he saunters towards you. "Huh. Having a vampire around could come in handy."

"So says the werewolf," you muse. Troy struggles against your hand, but he's not going anywhere. Not even when he raises a hand to strike you because Peter reaches out with lightning quick reflexes and catches his wrist. You smirk before looking at Troy. "Now that wasn't very nice. I was just going to let you go after scaring you a bit, but now.."

"Now," Peter says, "I think it's time we give you a taste of your own medicine. Let you know how it feels to have something taken from you without your consent." Troy's eyes widen even more while you and Peter snicker at the spike of fear in his scent. "Y/N, will you do the honors?"

"With pleasure." You stare at Troy, willing your features to change right before his very eyes and hissing when your fangs elongate. He renews his struggle in order to get away, but with your strength and Peter's he's going anywhere. "Now this is going to hurt like hell," you coo. "I want you to feel the fear of every girl you ever roofied just so you could get your dick wet."

Your smiling façade drops as you snarl, opening your mouth wider as your head rears back before you lunge forward and sink your teeth into Troy's neck. You feel him stiffen in pain, struggling even more to get away as you harshly drain his life's essence through the wound in his neck. But the second you feel his struggle lessen, you pull back and lick the corners of your mouth.

Peter chuckles darkly as you pat Troy on his cheeks. "Perk up some, will 'ya? I hardly drained an artery."

"Uh, sweetheart? I don't think he can talk."

"Oh. Right!" Catching Troy's gaze once more, you say, "You can make sound again, but you're never going to speak about what just happened. You're going to forget that monsters exist. All you need to know that if you ever see my face or his face again," you compel him while gesturing to Peter who's now standing over your shoulder, "then you're going to remember something terrible happened but you're not quite sure what. You'll just be deathly afraid. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. Also, you're never going to spike another drink ever again. If you ever just THINK about taking anything without the person's consent, you're going to get violently ill and remember the pain in your neck from when I sunk my teeth into it. Got it?"

"Y-Yes."

"Awesome! Now, run along. You're no longer welcomed here."

Troy blinks rapidly, his mind clearing briefly as the compulsion sets in. When he sees you again, and then Peter at your back, his eyes widen before he scrambles to the side and rushes for the elevator. You laugh and wiggle your fingers in a mocking wave. Then the moment he's in Derek's death trap of an elevator and is descending, Peter's crowding you against the wall as he dips down so his hands can grab the back of your thighs and lift you up.

Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and you have a split second of being surprised before his mouth is pressing against yours, tongue licking into your mouth a couple of times, teasing yours, before teeth pull on your bottom lip as he retreats. You groan, hands finding purchase on his shoulders before sliding back and up, and settling at the nape of his neck. "So, uh, violence really does it for 'ya. Huh?"

"You have no idea." Peter leans in once more, nose brushing against yours and leaving you anticipating his next bruising kiss, but he merely presses his lips softly against yours. You whimper and he smirks. "Now, now. Patience is a virtue." You growl and he chuckles. "Trust me. The last thing we need is to get carried away in the hall and-"

"Oh gross. Seriously, you guys!?"

Peter sighs as you jolt in his hold. You're already staring wide-eyed at your brother, so Peter slowly lets you down before bringing you into his side and slinging an arm around your shoulders. "Yes?" He drawls.

Scott wrinkles his nose. "You guys good out here? Stiles said he saw you leave with a stranger and Peter looked a little too happy about it."

"It's fine," you assure him. "Just some guy trying to roofie himself a quick lay." Scott bristles, but your too calm demeanor keeps him from asking questions. "If you're wondering, I just scared him a bit and then sent him on his way."

"Y/N!" He says. "He's just going to go out there and do it again."

"Please," you scoff. "Do you think me dumb, brother? I obviously compelled him."

"She did." Peter smiles. "And it was marvelous. You should have seen it."

"I don't know. It seems to have gotten the both of you amped up so I assume it's something I'd have disapproved of." You and Peter both smile innocently at Scott, and he rolls his eyes. "Whatever. Either rejoin the party or go somewhere else. Don't have sex in the hall. I have to walk through here."

As Scott disappears, you hum and nudge Peter with your hip. "Well would you look at that. You got the alpha's permission to defile his own flesh and blood. Wherever shall we go?"

"I've got a condo downtown."

"Too far. My car is downstairs," you say as Peter chuckles. "We can take the edge off first and then head back to your place."

"Finally! A McCall whose choices I can get behind."

"Are my choices the only thing you'd like to get behind?" You smirk at him, winking, and then start heading towards the elevator. "Lets go, Mr. Wolf. I only have less than a week left in Beacon Hills and I'd like to find out exactly how rough a wolf like you can get."

#peter hale x reader #peter x reader #peter hale imagine #teen wolf imagine #peter hale #scott mccall #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf #fanficimagery #imagine

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dustofbrokenheart · 3 years

Text

The Lost Boys: Take-Out Intrigue Part 2

Part One | Part Two

Marko x Reader

Word Count: 2,524

Summary: A requested continuation of this idea. Reader runs into Marko a few weeks later and is convinced to go on a late night rendezvous.

There were few moments in life as sweet as when you had just finished a shift.

You got along with your co-workers and the owners were good to you. The job itself wasn’t too bad outside of the occasional snotty customer. But after being on your feet, your body was grateful to go home and just sit.

“Be careful, huh? They still haven’t found that guy,” your boss cautioned as she locked up behind the both of you.

That gave you pause.

Two weeks ago, the cops had come in on official business. Yet another missing person’s case in Santa Carla except this time, the last any one had seen of the victim was outside the restaurant. There were no leads which had the workers spooked, especially since it happened nearby.

Some insisted that he had been in an accident, that he would turn up sooner or later. Others maintained that he must be a criminal himself—why else would’ve he been out so late?

And a third group of co-workers were bold enough to come out and say he was probably long dead, the victim of a killer. You agreed with them.

Whatever the case, everyone was more cautious when leaving after the late shift.

Most of your shifts were still in the day but after seeing that beautiful boy on a random nightshift you’d taken on a whim and started signing up for more in hopes of seeing him again. He hadn’t come back yet.

You reassured her as you zipped up your jacket. “Thank you, auntie. I promise to be careful.”

Passing a critical eye over you, she started chiding you about dressing smarter—what kind of fool wore a nylon jacket in these temperatures. You took it without complaint, knowing the nagging was how she showed that she cared.

Her husband, the other owner, was already waiting in their car and the last thing she told you as she got in was, “There’s eight in that bag. Share with everyone at home.”

You held the bag containing a pile of smooth, fluffy buns reverently against your chest.

It wasn’t often that she brought food from home to give to employees but when she did, it was always delicious. The bao was a big favorite of yours.

“Thank you. I will,” you said with a dip of your head.

They drove off and you head down to your own car. Alone on the sidewalk, you juggled everything in your arms to fish out your keys, taking great care not to squish the bao. It was a particularly quiet that night which put you on guard, your eyes darting around trying to peer into the darkness.

Every shadow was suspicious, the corners of buildings a potential hiding spot for a psycho laying in wait. There was also an alleyway you had to pass by that made you extra wary. You darted past it, careful to keep it in your line of limited vision.

Santa Carla was a shifty town, especially after dark, and you’d rather be paranoid instead of caught off guard.

The jingle of your car keys was almost obvious disrupter in the otherwise silent street as you unlocked the car. Your textbooks were demoted to the floor of the passenger seat, the bag of bao riding shot gun in the actual seat.

For a spilt second, you thought about buckling it in but quickly dismissed it; the seat belt could crush them.

You slammed the door shut when you felt it. A cold shudder on the back of your neck. The kind of anxious realization that you were being watched.

Your head swiveled this way and that, trying to find the source of your unease but the darkness too much of a handicap. It was times like this when you were reminded just how badly lit the street was.

There were no detectible sounds either. You strained to pick up the slightest movement and only heard the rush of adrenaline in your ears.

Desperate to keep your wits about you, you took a deep breath and walked as calmly as you could to the driver’s side. You gripped the car keys tightly, in case you needed to stab someone, ignoring the tremors in your hands. Nothing happened, yet the feeling of being watched remained and you hoped that it’d be okay once you got in the car.

You reached for the handle and thought you were safe when it intensified. There was no warning before a cold hand rested on your hip, the chill cutting through your jacket.

You screamed with everything in you and whirled around, arm poised to gouge out the creep’s eyes.

The other person effortlessly batted your attack away and you recognized belatedly that those distinct curls were familiar. The fight drained out of you with one big gasp of air. “You.”

He smiled excitedly, like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you. He spun your keys, the key ring looped around his finger. You didn’t remember them leaving your hold.

“Nice jab,” he complimented.

“Yeah,” you stammered, hand over your pounding heart. It was eerie how he snuck up on you like that, even when you were on full guard.

“You didn’t hesitate.” The spinning stopped and he offered you the keys. He leaned in close stopping just shy of invading your personal space. “You have a fighter’s instinct.”

“Only when people sneak up on me.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry about that.”

His voice was perfectly sincere but your intuition didn’t trust him. It told you that he had liked scaring you.

The customer was just how you remembered him from the one time you took his order. Patched jacket and leather chaps and a cherubic face. The flawless face was a harsh reminder that you hadn’t been able to land a single scratch on him.

“We didn’t introduce ourselves last time,” you frowned. “What’s your name?”

He bit his thumb, the paleness of it standing in stark contrast with the dark leather of his fingerless glove even in the dim light. “Marko.” Hmm. It suited him, you decided. “And you’re Y/N.

You stood up a little straighter, uneasy. You were sure that you hadn’t said your name last time—you never introduced yourself to customers.

Once again, he stole the words out of your mouth. “It was on the name tag.”

Oh. You’d forgotten about the raised rectangular underneath your jacket. The name tag. “Sorry. I’m still a little spooked from what just happened.”

“Never took you for a screamer,” he teased. Heat exploded in your face and the night hid how he focused on the small bird shaped pin on the lapel of your jacket.

He was more mischievous and you wished for the ease of conversation from his other visit. Was this truer to his actual personality? Normally, you’d wouldn’t have minded either way but you couldn’t ignore the weirdness of this encounter.

Your goal was to leave as soon as possible. Either he didn’t pick up on that, or he did and just didn’t care because next thing you knew, he was inviting you to hang out at a park a couple of blocks away. And he didn’t mean tomorrow or next week, he meant right then.

Your resistance was instinctive and the excuse that you needed to go home and get some sleep was both a truth and a lie.

He crowded you against the car, finally crossing into your personal space. You made the mistake of glancing into his eyes and found you couldn’t turn away. The longer you looked, the more you swore that a predatory yellow glowed from his irises.

Human eyes didn’t even come in that color! You were going crazy.

“I think you should come.” His soft tone didn’t match the determined posture. “You’ll have fun.”

You struggled internally but he started to sound reasonable. Forget the fact that this was something you knew better than to do. You really wanted to keep talking with him and an inner voice reminded you that you had been waiting for him to return…This was your chance.

“Okay,” you smiled. The previous reservations evaporated from your mind and all you could think about was the excitement.

The two of you drove to the park, him on his motorcycle and you in your car. All of the benches empty and ready for the taking. There a few by the basketball courts and there were tons of streetlights in that direction so you went there.

Sitting down, you were finally able to see him clearly. The park used white bulbs in their lights which was an upgrade from the orange ones lining the streets.

“Here.” You handed him one of the buns that you brought with from the car. “It’s char siu bao.”

He lit up. “Whoa! I didn’t know you guys sold this. Is it a secret menu item?”

You laughed, spitting out mashed-up bits of food. Still chuckling, you made sure to swallow and then answered. “Nope, there’s not a secret menu. Not one that I know about any way. Sometimes the owners bring in food to share with us and they made bao this time.”

The first bite had him moaning obscenely. The rest of it was scarfed down quickly and he patted his stomach appreciatively, his cut-off tank riding up to expose more of his skin.

“Damn. That was orgasm by BBQ pork bun. Your angel for giving me some.”

For the second time that night, heat spread across your face and you kept your eyes trained away. His boldness was flattering. How could you have been scared of him earlier? It seemed ridiculous right then.

“So,” he continued, “I couldn’t help but notice the eyesore hanging from your rear-view mirror.”

“It’s not an eyesore. It took me a whole week to make that.”

That impressed him. “Really. You make a lot of things yourself?”

It launched a whole conversation about your latest creative projects. What kind of materials you liked to work with, where you got your supplies, and if you would show them to him sometime.

Marko talked about his as well. He mostly dabbled in clothing projects, like his jacket, and painting although he worked with shells and wood a lot, too. If the extraordinary patch work on the jacket was any indicator, he was seriously talented.

Sensing an opportunity, you proposed that you would show him your stuff, only if he showed you his.

“You’ll have to be specific what of mine you want to see,” he said with a wink.

“The projects, Marko. I mean the projects,” you sassed. It was becoming easier to respond to his quips.

He gestured further down where some patches of spray paint were visible on the concrete ground. “I can show you some now, if you want.”

Your brows shot up. He did say he did all kinds of painting, but he spray painted too? Curious, you didn’t wait for him as you went to go take a peek.

People tagged all over Santa Carla these days, normally on buildings or signs. Never had you seen it left up in a public park and on the ground, no less. A lot of residents complained about what they saw as trashy graffiti, but you thought that was a conservative view. Some it was actually quite good, the talent of the artists undeniable.

The five slabs of park sidewalk examples of good pieces. There were styles that differed from bubbly word font to intricate cartoon characters and it was apparent that many people had worked on this.

You examined them critically, trying to find which was Marko’s based on your limited knowledge.

The bubbly font was too soft for him. The animated turtle with a bandana and nun-chucks, certainly a comic book figure, didn’t seem like him either. Then you spotted a stylized skull with a bird placed in each eye socket, an aggressively written ‘anarchy’ running down the side length of it.

The pin was a reminder on your chest and you knew that it was his.

“Aww, how’d you guess?”

“A little birdy told me,” you said, softly touching the image. What really stood out was the high-level shading he incorporated. The cheeks appeared wicked sharp and the eye sockets had realistic depth to them. You couldn’t believe he managed those techniques with simply spray paint.

Marko crouched in front of you, watching you intently. Your scent and admiration irresistible to him.

Neither of you spoke as he leaned ever closer. Unlike earlier, the quiet wasn’t scary and you felt anticipation. Right at the moment he his lips would’ve touched yours, there was a big rustle in the bushes to your left.

Both of you froze. You in alarm and Marko in annoyance.

Next thing you knew, another blonde rolled out from the foliage and bowled Marko over. The curly haired boy was quick to shove the other off of him and you were sure what was happening.

Until the new comer with his fluffed hair patted Marko affectionately on the shoulder, the chain attached to his black coat clinking. That was a familiar touch. “Marko!”

“Get your fat ass off me, Paul” he grumbled.

Paul dusted himself off and peered behind at his butt “I knew these pants looked good on me.”

Marko wasn’t having it. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you here?”

“You abandoned me, bud. I was gunna see if you wanted to feed but looks like you’re already occupied.” He turned his brilliant smile towards you and all you managed was wave awkwardly.

“This is Y/N,” Marko explained. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Paul said dragging out the r and flagrantly winking. Yikes, he would’ve gotten a show if he had waited a second more to reveal himself.

“Well now that you barged in, I suppose we should meet back up with the other two.”

Paul nodded and ran off into the darkness without any further explanation.

You stood up as well trying to salvage your dignity. Despite moving in for a kiss minutes ago, Marko didn’t try again. He walked backwards in the same direction Paul had left in, wearing his signature smirk.

“I’ll stop by for take-out soon. Surprise me with something yummy.” With one last cheeky wave, he jogged away.

At the moment he disappeared, it was as if a fog had cleared. All of your alarms came rushing back. You must be crazy for having agreed to come to the park!

Who in their right mind went somewhere with a stranger in the dead of night with a killer on the lose?

Were you that weak for a pretty face that all it took was them asking you nicely? Yes, your time with him hadn’t been horrible, actually, you enjoyed it, but something still wasn’t right.

You trudged to your car, kicking yourself. If he came to the restaurant like he claimed, you’d have to put your foot down more. Stupid decisions got people killed in Santa Carla and you were determined not to be another missing person.

Even for a face like Marko’s.

_______________

Bao is so so good! I can’t tell if I have a good handle on writing Marko yet. Yes, the missing person is the one he offed last time and yes, he did use mind powers on the reader here.

Thanks for reading :)

#the lost boys #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys marko #marko the lost boys #the lost boys imagines

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quirkfics · 4 years

Text

weaving boughs

word count: 1.7k

warnings: smut, established relationship, quirk use as bondage

pairing: Shinji Nishiya/Kamui Woods x Reader (gender neutral)

author’s note: Anyone interested in some old but new fic?? I wrote this lovely bit for the After Hours patreon way back when! It's had a mild spruce up since then, as it has been a year or two since this was written.

It isn’t often that the two of you truly get the chance to take your time loving one another. Not these days, anyway. Shinji is always so busy with his hero work—at his agency in the mornings and evenings, on patrols during the middle of the day—and you don’t even want to think about the fact that he’s one of the top ranked Pro Heroes currently out there. He’s frequently being called away on raids and private cases that he can’t openly talk about, and the... fans. They’re lovely, really, if over-enthusiastic. You’re tired. Of the quick meals and the clumsy kisses. You’re tired of the way you’ve both gotten used to collapsing into bed, just long enough to enjoy each other's warmth and a few hours of sleep. You’re tired of the rushed repeat of days.

Which is why it’s such a surprise, opening your door to an impatient knock and finding Shinji on the other side, already home from work. He’s still in costume, ever protective of his actual appearance when it comes to the general populace, but he looks clean. Either his day was an easy one, or he’d been sure to use the showers and grab a fresh costume at his agency.

“Shinji? Did something—you’re okay, aren’t you?” You barely get the words out before he’s in your space, leaning forward until his helmet is pressing softly to your forehead. Any faster and it would have been painful, but he’s always careful with you. He smells a bit like freshly cut cedar, and you can’t help but breathe the familiar scent of him in. His hands, still warm, still something more than wood, despite his quirk, curl around your shoulders.

“I’ve missed you,” he says in reply, arms finally slipping around your waist to pull you in close. It takes effort, not to immediately relax into his touch, not to sigh and let your worries leave you, but he still hasn’t answered your question. Shinji must take note of the tension in your frame, because before you can ask again, he’s pressed in even closer. Every line of his body is warm and hard—and hard. “I’ve missed you,” he emphasizes, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he strokes one hand up your spine.

“I never would have guessed,” you tease, willingly letting him distract you for the moment. You twist in his hold, just a little, so you can slide your thigh in between his legs. The contact with him has Shinji making the exact pleased gasp you’re looking for, and that needy thrum of arousal that you’ve missed curls in your abdomen. “But you still-”

Shinji’s fingers curl around the back of your neck, and the pressure is just enough to have your eyes fluttering shut. “You’ll be able to check me over once we’re finished,” he says, in an obvious attempt to placate your worries. His voice is lower than normal, tone gone rough and strained with wanting. “But first we need to get you out of these clothes.” He waits then, and you can hear his breath, heavy sounding, caught as it is within his helmet, until you’re nodding your head. Shinji steps back, giving you enough space to lift your arms, and then his fingers, still curled around your neck, shift. They stretch, growing long and thin and snaking beneath the clothes on your torso until he can lift the material and you can duck out from underneath it. There’s a soft whisper of noise as his hand shifts back, but you barely pay any attention to it. He’s pulling you further into the living room, too impatient to go farther, when you catch sight of his eyes. His pupils are blown wide and dark as he watches your fingers fumble with the clothes at your waist. It takes hardly any time at all until you’re bare before him, but he’s still covered from head to toe, face hidden by his helmet, and he doesn’t seem very keen on changing it.

Your lips part, ready to ask why he isn’t making any move to disrobe. You’d like to kiss him, after all, but Shinji spins you away from him and then pulls your back against his chest. “I want all of you,” Shinji murmurs, tilting his head so his helmet is leaning against your temple. The hard length of his cock is pressed against your ass, and you want to push into it, you want him to make more of those lovely gasping noises, but one of his hands is sliding up your middle and splaying across your chest. “I want to touch all of you,” he whispers and there’s another shuuush of noise as his quirk lengthens his fingers. “I want to see you bound in my branches, the whorl of them against your skin.”

“Yes,” you plead, soft, and can’t help the shiver that runs through you as he starts working. You almost feel like you should be lost somewhere, deep in a forest, with all the noises his quirk makes. His branches creak as they snake up your chest, an echo of trees waving in the wind. Buds start to burst from the twining ends, and they erupt into bloom, the soft flicker of petals brushing against your skin before the branches weave in a different direction. Some of them spiral up, and out, hardening to keep you still, while others curl down your back and along your arms. Shinji sighs, taking a step back, and the branches around your arms weave together until you’re almost entirely bound. You’re standing at a slanted angle now, feet still on the floor purely because Shinji’s branches haven’t lifted you, though they have taken most of your weight. They’ve grown out to brace against the floor for balance, to keep his arm and shoulder from being strained. You shiver again, but there’s not much room to do more than that, bound as you are from neck to the tops of your thighs.

“Comfortable?” Shinji rasps, one of his booted feet pressing against either of your ankles to spread your legs further apart. You don’t answer right away, testing, just a bit, to see how much give he’s given you, how much you can move. You breathe slowly out to quell the urge to beg, to tell him to hurry up, please.

“Very,” you say instead, and let your upper body relax into the hold his branches have on you. There’s a small clack of a noise, and then lube, cool and wet, is dripping down the crack of your ass, and further between your legs. You tense, just a little, waiting for him to touch you, but Shinji is steady and careful. He sets the lube bottle out of the way, and the swift creaking rush of noise let’s you know that he’s using his quirk to do it. “Shinji,” you say, hoping it will urge him to move just a little faster, but then his hand cracks across your ass. You’re arch, choking on a shout, the sting of his hand lingering even after he strokes over it in apology. He steps closer again, hips and cock, still wonderfully hard, pressing between your spread open thighs.

“You’re so impatient,” Shinji says, and his voice is clearer now, freed from the confines of his helmet. He must have been getting rid of more than just the lube, but you’re bound too tightly to look back at his face now. He swipes a few fingers through the thick liquid and then thrusts, just a little, sliding his cock through the wetness.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, echoing his earlier words, but then your mouth goes slack, his fingers finally pressing into you. He either doesn’t care about your teasing, or he’s as impatient as you are. His fingers are slick, smoother than skin, but still warm, and getting warmer the longer they’re thrust into the heat of you. He curls them, nearly pulls them out, and then pushes them back inside a little harder, setting up a rising rhythm. Before long, Shinji has you panting, body hanging almost limp in the cradle of his branches, and you’re so excited you feel like you might burst. “Shinji, please,” you finally beg, biting at your bottom lip when he pulls his slick fingers out. You’re empty, and aching with the force of your arousal, but you were also right about Shinji being just as desperate as you are, because he’s there, almost immediately, pressing the head of his cock inside.

He groans, hand curling around a branch-free space on your hip, and steps forward to hurry things along. The wet, squelching noises of him pushing inside you are obscene, and you wish you could push back, or wrap your legs around him, but all you can do is rise up on tiptoes, changing the angle. Shinji’s breath hitches, and then he curses, cock bottoming out inside you because of the change. He waits for a breath, calming himself down before he raises his pace. All you can do is take it, caught in the weave of his branches as you are, but you can’t help straining against his grip on you, squeezing where you can, groaning a little louder. The feeling of you trying to wriggle must be exciting, as his thrusts turn a little sharp before he’s pressing almost too close. He’s barely pulling out of you, gasping, fingers dug tight into your skin as you moan.

“Fuck,” you gasp as his cock hits a sweet spot. “Shinji, Shinji-” and then you can barely think. Everything goes pale, and your eyes are clenched shut, and you feel so good you’re almost numb with it, legs gone limp. Shinji is still thrusting though, repeating your name, and then his branches are shuddering around you. Some of the small blooms at the ends of his branches drop, forcibly replaced by new buds, and then he’s pulling out of you, coming over your ass and the weave of branches around your hips. He doesn’t let go of you, but pulls you closer, branches shifting until you’re back into an unsteady standing position, just so he can press messy kisses to the back of your neck.

“I really did miss you,” he finally says, and more small blooms drop from the branches as he shifts them back into normal hands, all the better to hold you with.

#shinji nishiya x reader #kamui woods x reader #nishiya shinji x reader #lemon

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Soulmate

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day Three: (Fake/Secret Dating, Soulmate, Hobbies)

A/N: Here we are, the last time I’ll need to give this warning! This is the last part of the main storyline, everything else after this will be snippets from this AU safe for anyone to read. Enjoy! Word Count: 4,104

Mitsuri waited outside the gates of Sekirei Girls’ Academy, humming and rocking on her feet. It was obscenely early, but it was a price she was willing to pay if it meant being the first person to greet Shinobu on school grounds each morning.

Mitsuri was very happy. Ever since the surprise thunderstorm, she and Shinobu had grown much closer. Whenever Shinobu would spot her, she’d shoot Mitsuri the cutest little smile that made the older girl’s heart feel like it was going to explode! They talked more and even hung out outside of school on occasion, it was all Mitsuri had ever hoped for in pursuing a relationship with the cool, smart and beautiful Kochou Shinobu.

There was one thing that bothered her though, and that would be Shinobu’s stubborn refusal to acknowledge the strange bond between them. It hadn’t just been a product of the storm, they had experienced the visions a few more times since then. Usually, a specific touch or smell, even a sound could trigger an event and they’ve only gotten clearer since that rainy day.

From what Mitsuri gathered, she and Shinobu had been part of some kind of war if the uniforms and katanas were anything to go by. She didn’t really have many specific details beyond that. Many of the visions that came to her seemed to reflect whatever triggered them in the first place. Mitsuri had been researching the phenomenon in her spare time, but wasn’t making much progress on her own. She was sure if she could get Shinobu’s help on the matter they could actually find something, but as previously said, Shinobu wanted nothing to do with it. That didn’t mean Mitsuri was going to give up though.

“Good morning, Shinobu-chan!” Mitsuri grinned and waved excitedly as Shinobu appeared in the distance.

“Good morning,” Shinobu answered once she was close enough to do so without yelling. Her lips were curled into that small smile that Mitsuri loved to see.

“What are you going to be practicing today, Shinobu?” Mitsuri asked, following her Kouhai to the track. Now that she had her foot in the door of Shinobu’s life, she was working on wiggling herself further in by spending all the time she could with her.

“My events next week are going to be the triple jump, high jump, one hundred meter dash, one hundred meter hurdles and the four hundred meter relay.” Shinobu recalled. “After I warm up I think I’ll start practicing my jumps and finish off with the sprints. I wanted to try pole vaulting, but Tomioka says I have to focus on my strengths now that the season is almost over. He’s such a killjoy.”

Mitsuri giggled. That was another part of Shinobu’s practices that she loved to watch. The shorter girl often sassed the coach or countered his teachings. It had worried Mitsuri at first, but quickly learned that it was simply their dynamic.

“There’s always next year, Shinobu! It’s sad I’m graduating this year, watching you practice is so fun. It’s too bad we didn’t become friends sooner, then you could have watched me during dance and volleyball season.” Mitsuri said wistfully.

“I’ve seen you do both many times.” Shinobu mumbled, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “My sister was in both of those clubs as you may recall.”

“Yes! That’s true!” Mitsuri clapped before she thought about it a moment more and her face dropped. “But that means you’ve only seen me at my worst! I was only a first year back then and I wasn’t really good.”

“I remember, you fell a lot.” Shinobu snorted. Mitsuri covered her face and whined pitifully.

“But I didn’t stop going to meets and events even after Kanae graduated. You really improved over time.” Shinobu added shyly, keeping her eyes staring firmly ahead at the track where some other girls were already warming up.

“Aw, Shinobu!” Mitsuri cooed. She couldn’t stop herself from latching on to the shorter girl, pressing tightly into her side while Shinobu tried halfheartedly to shove her off.

The pair slowed their stride significantly as another vision past behind their eyes. A similar hug, but again with the strange uniforms and taking place in a grand garden that was growing steadily more familiar.

"Come on, I know you saw that." Mitsuri said once the feeling past and they began walking again.

"Saw what?" Shinobu feigned ignorance.

“Shinobu, when are you going to admit there is something supernatural going on here?”

“Never. It’s just absurd. I don’t believe in that kind of stuff.” Shinobu said, setting her bag on the bleachers.

“What do you mean? You love ghost stories and supernatural phenomena.” Mitsuri countered, sitting beside Shinobu’s belongings.

“I love telling scary stories precisely because I don’t believe in any of that junk. It’s funny to see how others react.”

“If you would help me with my research for just one night, I just know we could find something.”

“I’m sorry, Mitsuri. That just sounds like a waste of time,” Shinobu said, stretching her arms over her head before placing her hands back over her hips, “I’ve got to go warm up now.”

“No!” Mitsuri pouted.

“What?”

Mitsuri snatched Shinobu, catching her off guard and making her fall into Mitsuri’s lap.

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu scolded quietly, “let go!”

“Not until you promise to help me research what’s going on between us! Just one day, please!” Mitsuri exclaimed, pressing her cheek snuggly between Shinobu’s shoulder blades as her strong arms held her firmly in place.

“Fine, fine! Just cut it out!” Shinobu snapped.

“Yes!” Mitsuri cheered. She gave Shinobu one last tight squeeze before letting her go. The Kouhai stood and shot a glare at the giddy girl before darting of onto the track. Her skin already flushed before her workout even began.

Mitsuri used the rest of her time organizing the research she already had so she could really optimize her time with Shinobu. It was a little difficult to stay on task however, when she could be watching Shinobu twist over the high jump pole or sprint and leap over hurdles like they weren’t even an obstacle. Needless to say, Mitsuri didn’t get as much work done as she could have.

***

They had set the research session for Saturday. Shinobu thought she could have gotten away with a couple of hours Friday night, but Mitsuri had shot down that idea quickly. She had finally coerced Shinobu into helping her and she wasn’t going to settle for a couple of hours, she wanted a whole day.

They decided to do their research at Shinobu’s since it was a more quiet and controlled space than Mitsuri’s house with all her rambunctious siblings running about.

Mitsuri arrived bright and early Saturday morning, beaming brighter than the sun. Shinobu answered the door with messy hair and squinty eyes. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting Mitsuri to already be here. It was only seven in the morning after all.

“What time did you wake up this morning? You live on the other side of town.” Shinobu asked. She sounded grumpy, but it was mostly because she herself had only woken up fifteen minutes ago.

“I couldn’t sleep at all Shinobu. I couldn’t stop thinking about how excited I was to spend the day with you!” Mitsuri said, giving off a glow that should not have been humanly possible for someone who hadn’t slept at all the night before.

“You’re insane.” Shinobu deadpanned whilst making room for Mitsuri to enter her home.

While Shinobu finished getting ready for the day, Mitsuri made herself at home in Shinobu’s room and set up her own workspace. With Kanae at her job and Kanao heading out later to stay over at a friend’s house, it would just be the two of them for a majority of the day. Mitsuri wasn’t sure why, but the thought made her heart beat faster.

“Alright,” Shinobu sighed, dropping onto her futon beside Mitsuri, “what do you have so far?”

Mitsuri turned to face Shinobu and smiled. Gone was the cute, tousled bed hair, now tucked neatly into place, but the giant hoodie and athletic shorts she had been wearing when she had answered the door remained unchanged.

“You really like wearing giant sweatshirts, don’t you Shinobu?” Mitsuri had said instead with a light giggle.

“I get cold.” She stated simply.

“But you’re wearing shorts. Wouldn’t it help if you wore something longer?” The older girl pointed out.

“Watch this,” Shinobu sat up further back on the futon, “I’m about to blow your mind.”

Shinobu lifted the hem of her hoodie and before Mitsuri could register and appreciate the newly exposed skin it was quickly gone again as Shinobu’s knees pressed against her chest and the large hoodie was thrown back into place, encompassing all of Shinobu’s legs, making her look like a lumpy egg with a human head.

Mitsuri blanked for a moment, taking in Shinobu’s form for a few moments before laughing heartily. Shinobu laughed too, although more subdued. She had gotten just the reaction she was hoping for.

“What a problem solver, Shinobu-chan,” Mitsuri wiped a tear from her eye, “when you get a boyfriend you’re going to steal all of his hoodies, aren’t you?”

Shinobu winced a bit at the insinuation, instead of giving Mitsuri a real answer she hummed noncommittally, making Mitsuri tilt her head curiously.

Then a thought crossed Mitsuri’s mind that chilled her to the core, did Shinobu already have a boyfriend? She was so beautiful and amazing, had someone already claimed her heart? She lurched forward, startling Shinobu by balancing her weight over Shinobu’s knees, still hidden beneath the blanket like sweatshirt.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Shinobu?” She squeaked, her face mere centimeters away from the other’s.

“What? No!” Shinobu denied, blush crawling its way up her neck from their proximity.

“You promise? You don’t have to hide from me Shinobu, I’ll be your number one supporter!”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Mitsuri. I never will so just drop it, okay?” Shinobu said, attempting to push Mitsuri out of her personal space.

“What do you mean, never?” Mitsuri was flabbergasted. Did Shinobu think that as pretty and charming as she was, she couldn’t get any boy she wanted? Now instead of relieved that Shinobu didn’t have a boyfriend, she was upset that Shinobu thought she would never have one. “You are beautiful Shinobu, and so smart and dedicated! Don’t give up, you’ll find the right boy for you and if they don’t treat you right they don’t deserve you! Just like you told me, right?”

“Mitsuri, stop.” Shinobu warned, running a hand through her hair.

“But it’s true! You could have any boy you want Shinobu.”

“I don’t want a boy!” Shinobu finally yelled, exasperated. “I don’t want a boy.” She said again this time in a more even tone, jerking her head away from Mitsuri.

“Don’t want a... oh!” Mitsuri clapped her hands together, “Do you want a girlfriend to share your hoodies with then?”

Though her head was turned, Mitsuri watched in amazement as Shinobu’s ears turned red before her very eyes. After a moment of silence, it was clear Shinobu was tongue tied.

“You do!” Mitsuri yelled, wiggling excitedly, “This is great, we can talk about what girls we think are cute together sometime. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“...What?” Shinobu peaked over her shoulder at Mitsuri.

“Well you know me, Shinobu. I like a lot of different people. It’ll be fun to see where we might overlap.” Mitsuri said as if it was obvious, no big deal. Unfortunately for her, her own idea didn’t make her feel much better. For some reason the idea of Shinobu sharing what other girls she found attractive made her feel anxious.

“No, I didn’t know that. I’ve only ever heard you talk about boys.” Shinobu said, distracting Mitsuri.

“Oh, well, now you know I guess.” Mitsuri shrugged with a smile, her face still hovering painfully close to Shinobu.

Shinobu could just about die.

A knock on the door saves her, and she calls Kanao in. The younger girl has her backpack on and a sleeping bag roll hugged against her chest.

“Nezuko and her mom are here to pick me up.” She said, staring between the two older girls and wondering why her sister appeared so flustered.

“Okay, do you have everything?” Shinobu got up from her futon, happy for an excuse to step away from Mitsuri and her honey sweet scent.

“Yes.” Kanao answered with a nod.

“And how are you getting home tomorrow?” Shinobu asked.

“Aoi said her dad would drop me off.”

“Alright, call or text if you need anything. If you want to come home early Kanae will pick you up at anytime, okay?” Shinobu reminded. Since their parents were often away, Shinobu and Kanae had basically been Kanao’s primary caretakers ever since she was adopted. It was a little hard at times for Shinobu to remember that Kanao wasn’t so little anymore.

“I remember, see you tomorrow, Nee-san.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Kanao turned, rounded the corner and with a quiet closing and locking of a door, she was gone.

Shinobu cleared her throat and turned back to Mitsuri, who had watched the interaction with hearts in her eyes.

“So, are we ever going to get into your, ‘research’ or are we just going to sit here and do nothing all day?” Shinobu crossed her arms, her eyes not quite meeting Mitsuri’s as she was still embarrassed from earlier.

That seemed to jolt Mitsuri out of her musings and the older girl quickly finished setting up and filled Shinobu in on what she had so far.

“So basically,” Shinobu leaned her back against the wall, “you have nothing.”

“That’s not true!” Mitsuri pouted, leaning closer to Shinobu to shove her laptop in the younger girl’s face, “Did you read this article about telepathic dream links and dimensional rifts?”

“Just hearing you say that aloud makes my brain want to melt.” Shinobu snorted.

“Take this seriously Shinobu. You promised you’d try today.” Mitsuri pleaded.

“You’re right,” Shinobu sighed, taking the laptop from Mitsuri’s hands to place it on her own lap, “sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Now, how can we find out what’s going on with us?”

“Well, let’s type... connected vision experiences, and see if we find something similar and go from there.” Shinobu tapped the enter key and the relevant links popped up on the search engine.

Articles, websites and message boards yielded very little the first hour or so. Then they got really serious. Shinobu got out her own laptop so they could broaden their search. Occasionally they would share an interesting or just down right insane tidbit of information but largely nothing came up that sounded like what they were experiencing.

After awhile, Mitsuri noticed that Shinobu had gone quiet and seemed to be reading something rather intently. Excited, Mitsuri knocked shoulders with her.

“Did you find something good, Shinobu?” She asked.

“Ah, no. Sorry.” Shinobu quickly rebuffed. “I was reading an article about a new species of butterfly.”

“Aw, Shinobu! Stay on task here, come on!” Mitsuri scolded as best she could, but she was just too sweet for her words to have much bite.

“A break wouldn’t hurt, would it? Aren’t you hungry? I’ll order a delivery for whatever you want.” Shinobu enticed.

Now how could Mitsuri say no to that? Especially since her stomach had just then decided to speak for her with a low rumble.

“Food sounds great!” Mitsuri said, easily giving in.

“What do you want?” Shinobu asked, getting up.

“Mochi!” Mitsuri cheered.

“And?” Shinobu laughed.

“Tempura and miso! No wait, oden! No wait, ramen? Yakitori?” Mitsuri rubbed her temples, a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. This was an important decision!

“Pick a couple of things we can get at the same restaurant and anything you wanted that we didn’t get, we can make for dinner, okay?” Shinobu suggested after watching Mitsuri struggle for a minute.

“Really Shinobu? You’re the best!” Mitsuri praised.

They came up with a list and Shinobu ordered from the restaurant before going to the kitchen to make sure they had the ingredients they needed for dinner, leaving Mitsuri to continue their research.

Mitsuri was thinking of a new phrase to put in her search bar when Shinobu’s laptop caught her eye, still open and waiting for its owner to return. With a light hum, she set her own laptop aside, replacing it with Shinobu’s. Shinobu was right, a little break would be fine and she really wanted to see what this new butterfly looked like.

Mitsuri scrolled back to the top of the page, letting out a disappointed huff as there were no pictures. She scoured for the name of the butterfly to look it up herself, but the words she scanned gave her more questions than answers.

Words and phrases of past lives and tragedy, rebirth and second chances. An uncommon phenomenon. Mitsuri decided to reread from the beginning with complete focus.

A few minutes later, Shinobu reentered the room, looking down at her phone as she finished typing out a grocery list.

“Hey, we’re short on a few things. I’m just going to pop by the convenience store down the street. Do you want to come?”

“Why did you lie?” Mitsuri frowned at Shinobu instead, causing the other to whip her head up from her phone.

“Wha—“ Shinobu cut herself off as soon as she saw her laptop in Mitsuri’s grasp. “Oh Mitsuri, I just— it’s one article. It doesn’t mean anything...“

“Doesn’t mean anything... Shinobu, this is us to a T!” Mitsuri shot her arms up above her head, “We’re soulmates!”

“Mitsuri,” Shinobu tried to de-escalate, “you can’t believe everything you read, I didn’t find anything else about the subject. It’s just one story and—“

“It’s so detailed. The visions Koyuki and Hakuji shared, they aren’t so different from how our own come to us,” Mitsuri laid back against the futon with a light groan, covering her eyes. “To think we experienced some tragic end in our past lives, and the visions were so we could find each other and try falling in love again. It’s a lot to take in.”

Mitsuri let out a big breath of air and then remembered that she was still hurt that Shinobu had lied to her and sat back up.

“So why did you lie, Shinobu? Do you,” her voice got quieter, “do you not like me?”

“I do like you, don’t be ridiculous. I was just, I don’t know...” Shinobu huffed, walking over to her fish tank to watch the little colorful fish swim about. An excuse to not have to look at Mitsuri’s sad face.

“Is it because of my hair or maybe, because I eat a lot? Because I’m too clingy?” Mitsuri thought aloud, making Shinobu immediately turn back and stalk over to her.

Mitsuri yelped as Shinobu pushed her back against the futon and hovered over her, eyes dark with great sincerity as she poked Mitsuri squarely in the chest.

“You stop that right now.” Shinobu warned quietly. “There is not one part of you that I don’t like,” She changed her position to sit beside Mitsuri and looked down at the floor,

“...I was just, nervous I guess. I didn’t know how you would react. If you would think I was trying to take advantage of you or you would want to be with me just because of what one story had to say. If we did become a, a couple, I would hope it would because we are genuinely happy with each other and not because we may have known each other in another life.”

Mitsuri sat back up again and nodded vigorously, wrapping up Shinobu in a side hug with her head resting on her shoulder.

“I’ve liked you for a long time. Ever since I saw you running at the sports festival last year, I thought you were really cool and pretty. You made my heart leap back then before I even knew your name. Even without our shared visions or the possibility of the existence of soulmates, I would still want to be with you.” Mitsuri spoke, her words heartfelt, and Shinobu knew it.

“Until now, I didn’t let myself really think about asking you to be my girlfriend because, well, you know what I’ve told you of my track record with dating. They would always end up leaving. I didn’t want you to leave too.”

“I wouldn’t.” Shinobu said sternly, crossing her arms beneath Mitsuri’s side hug, making the older girl giggle and bury her head further into Shinobu’s neck. “Those guys were all assholes.”

“This is why I was so worried you might have already been dating someone, you’re just so expressive and— ahh! I just like you a lot!” Mitsuri nuzzled.

“I like you too.” Shinobu mumbled but she was full of sincerity. She freed one of her arms so she could pat Mitsuri affectionately on her back before clearing her throat.

“So do you, would you, like to go on a date sometime? Not because we might be soulmates or whatever, but because you would genuinely like to regardless?” She asked.

Mitsuri squealed and shook Shinobu in her arms, “Yes! Yes, I’d really like to do that. Do you mean it? Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I do. —Hey!”

Mitsuri pulled Shinobu back down on the futon with her, still hugging her close. Wisteria clung to her nose the longer she stayed close and she didn’t want to leave. Mitsuri grinned into Shinobu’s shoulder as she felt arms finally wrap around her.

“What a weird, amazing day, hm?” Mitsuri breathed through a relaxed sigh.

“Tell me about it.” Shinobu sighed in return though she sounded more spent than relaxed. She wasn’t accustomed to sharing such gooey emotions like this. Honestly, she felt lucky Mitsuri had the patience to bear with her.

“Aren’t you glad I made you do this research with me now?”

“Mm, probably would have just been a lot less work for you to just as me out instead while you had me trapped.” Shinobu responded cheekily, earning a light slap on the arm.

“Now, as much as I’d love to lay here, the food should be here in less than twenty minutes and I’d really like to grab those groceries before the delivery person gets here. Are you coming?”

“Are you kidding? I’ll never leave your side again!” Mitsuri said, shifting her body upwards a bit so she could show Shinobu her very serious, yet extremely cute and hardly intimidating, expression.

“Oh dear, what have I done.” Shinobu couldn’t help but smile. Hesitantly she caressed Mitsuri’s cheek and she melted instantly under her touch.

Before they could leave, Shinobu said she had to change her sweatshirt first and Mitsuri lightly poked fun at her, but in all honesty it would have been like Shinobu was wearing a Snuggie out in public with how big that hoodie was.

Shoes on, they walked down the street to their destination. Surprisingly, their conversation on the way felt normal as if nothing had really changed and that felt good. Mitsuri nervously brushed knuckles with Shinobu a few times and the younger girl easily took her hand in her own. They both quieted for a moment and smiled to themselves, enjoying the small, but not insignificant, act of intimacy.

They got the ingredients they needed with added snacks and managed to just barely beat the delivery person home with a couple minutes to spare. They put away the groceries and set up lunch in the living room because Mitsuri insisted on eating under the kotatsu even though the chills of winter had long since past. Shinobu was happy to indulge her anyway and offered to put a movie on to watch while they ate. They picked one and sat together, steadily migrating closer until they were leaning on each other.

Before long, Shinobu heard Mitsuri’s breathing change and realized that the other girl had gone quiet.

“Missed sleep finally caught up to you, did it?” Shinobu whispered fondly.

She pulled Mitsuri further into herself and she snuggled in. Shinobu paused the movie, having a feeling that Mitsuri would want to finish it later, and turned on a show she would usually watch herself while playing idly with Mitsuri’s hair.

She’d never admit it, but maybe, just maybe, there was something to all that soulmate business because it felt like she had waited a lifetime to hold her like this without another care in the world.

#shinomitsuweek2021 #shinomitsu #shinobu kochou #shinobu kocho #mitsuri kanroji #demon slayer #kny #au

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luvlyrv · 4 years

Text

Manage My Feelings | Yeri x Fem!Manager!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You didn’t expect to become a manager for Red Velvet, and you certainly didn’t expect to develop feelings for a certain member.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I hope that you find some of the dialogue awfully cheesy lol. I’ll try writing again over the weekend but again, I don’t know how much time I have which is why I’m uploading this now. Enjoy!

Date: 2/3/21

Five girls longue about in a back room, patiently waiting for their turn to perform on stage. The idle chatter between them and some staff was briefly interrupted when Jihoon, one of their managers. opened the door. Jihoon walked in with an unfamiliar girl behind him. They both walked in front of the give girls and stopped.

"Hello, I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you all." You say with a polite bow. The girls look up at you with faces full of interest. Jihoon continued to your introduction for you.

"As you know, Minseo left her position as your manager a week ago. Y/N is here to fill in that place and help you with your activities. Please make her feel welcomed." Jihoon says before taking his leave, busy with tasks much more important than welcoming a new manager.

You're left in a room filled with strangers, but luckily the idols in front of you didn't hesitate to introduce themselves, as well as the other staff in the room. You feel a bit dazed by the beauty of the girls. You've never really worked nor kept up with the idol industry before, but now you'll have to be working 24/7 to make sure their schedules are in check.

Judging by the kind smiles they give you though, at least you'll be working with people who wouldn't be a pain. Although you already know their names from the files you were given, you still listen attentively as they introduced yourself. The one that catches your attention most though, is the youngest member. While the rest gave you professional and friendly-enough introductions, Yerim seemed lighthearted and giggly when speaking to you.

The other managers and staff that worked closely with the idol group were mostly friendly as well. You note that some of them don't really care for your presence, or maybe even actively disliked it, but you felt like you could shrug it off considering you've worked with worse. Soon enough though, the girls are called on stage. You would say your time with them was cut short, but you'd be spending most of your day to day life within their presence anyways.

It's been two months since you started working as a manager for Red Velvet, and it's been tough. You wake up at obscene hours, having only fallen asleep a couple hours before rising again. Most of your time is spent behind the wheel, trying your hardest to drive the members safely while being dead tired. The other part of the time was spent contacting other managers, directors, photographers, brand ambassadors, and more to recheck schedules.

You had very little downtime. To be fair, the girls didn't either. Even during your downtime, many times you had to be there to supervise the girls. You felt bad that neither of you truly had time to yourselves. The time spent together though at least built a sense of trust between all of you. For you, not only was it your job to care for the girls, but it felt like as a friend you had to care for them too. Which was why when you heard quiet sobs through the bathroom door you softly knocked.

"Hey, everything alright in there?" You ask with a voice filled with worry. All you got in response was muffled sniffles.

"Take your time. I'll be out here whenever you wanna talk." You give offer up a chat and without an explicit no you decide to just wait outside. After a couple minutes you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Slowly, you watch as Yerim slips out of the bathroom. Her eyes quickly scan the area and they land on you.

Your eyes softened at the sight of Yerim with puffy and red eyes. You walk towards her and carefully reach out. She doesn't turn away from your touch when your hand rests on your shoulder.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me about? I'm here to listen." Yeri looks down at the floor and leans forward, resting her head on your chest.

"I'm sorry. I just can't handle it sometimes." She mumbles into your chest. Your arms begin to envelop her body as you pull her closer.

"There's nothing you should apologize for." You try to reassure her. "Is it the comments?" You whisper into her ear. She nods and you pat her back.

"I know I shouldn't read them, but they're so easy to spot."

"Hey hey, I know. I don't blame you. It's not like you can close your eyes to everything. It's their fault that they spend so much time trying to hurt you." Your pats become calming strokes. Your heart breaks a little. As much as the girls tried to hide it, the stress from the never-ending scrutiny got to them sometimes. Especially for Yerim who entered the industry so young. You found that despite the fact it had been years since her debut, some would insist that she didn't belong. There were many other instances where people would just criticize her for being herself too.

The two of stay that way for a while. You feel your shirt starting to get wet, but you don't mind. Instead, you stand there for as long as Yerim needed. You knew that sometimes words don't mean much. Sometimes you already know how you should react or handle something, but that didn't take away from the feelings coursing through you. So you let Yerim cry it all out, hoping that it would eventually make her feel better.

After a couple minutes Yerim finally lifted her face. There are glistening streaks on her face and you carefully wipe them away for her with a handkerchief. You give her a small smile.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes to you again. You shake your head at her.

"Don't be." It seems like she's finally able to smile again as she mutters a small thank you. She leaves your hug and tries to recollect herself.

"If you want to, you can go shopping with Sooyoung. I came over because she wanted me to drive her." You say in hopes that the activity would brighten her mood. Although it takes a while for her to think about it she nods her head yes.

"Just give me some time to get ready to head out first."

As time passes, you feel like Yerim is the member that you're closest to. You're friendly with all of them of course, but it seems like you were there with Yerim the most. Without her knowing it you quickly became her favorite manager too. It wasn't very frequently that they would be assigned a manager so close to their age.

Yerim decides to sit next to you during a staff dinner and you scoot over to give her some space. She's thankful for the dim lighting of the restaurant as she feels her face heating up. She opens her mouth as you feed her without a second thought, letting her try the dishes you ordered. She wonders if it's all in her head, but she feels like you always give a little more attention to doting on her needs.

"Yerim?" Your voice suddenly pierces through her thoughts. She refocuses and looks at you.

"Hm?" She asks, not knowing what you said before. She was too spaced out thinking about you to realize you had been talking to her.

"I was asking if you wanted to wear my jacket. You seem to be freezing." Once again Yerim sees the familiar caring look on your face. She didn't even realize that her body had been shivering under the now blasting air conditioner of the restaurant.

"I don't want you to get cold." She tries to argue with you, but you begin taking off your jacket anyways. You cover her bare shoulders with it.

"I'm more worried about you." You say it with a smile, enjoying the look of Yerim wearing your jacket. You go back to eating your meal and chatting with the other managers as Yerim looks back down at her plate. She smiles, glad that you ended up giving her your jacket anyways. Most of all she enjoyed the soft smell of you that now covered her body.

The night goes on. Everyone was having fun and things were running smoothly up until the alcohol started being set on the table. Considering that the staff dinner was hosted in celebration for their most recent win, you supposed it wasn't a surprise that everyone started drinking. Seulgi and Sooyoung ended up drunk. Meanwhile Joohyun and Seungwan only seemed lightly buzzed, much more aware of their tolerance and unwilling to deal with the aftermath that they'd face tomorrow.

Yerim on the other-hand was much worse for wear. Her head was resting on your shoulder as she mumbled about random things. The rowdiness of the night seemed to finally die down. Some other managers began to help round the girls into the van. With Yerim pressed against you though, you said you'd catch up with them soon as you gently began to lift her up.

She refused to leave her seat at first, stating that her butt felt warm and she didn't wanna leave the soft cushion. After enough budging though you finally got her standing. Although she had trouble and continued to lean on you for balance. Since it took so long to even make Yerim begin to move, everyone else had already cleared.

You drag Yerim along with you as you walk out in the street. The parking lot is a considerable distance away, but you don't mind. You look at your side, appreciating the golden glow casted on Yerim's face by the street lamps. You watch as her eyelashes flutter and then her head moves. She looks at you and a big smile grows on her face.

"You're really pretty, Y/N." She whispers and giggles. Your feet suddenly stop. You had no idea how to respond.

"Is… is that so?" You ask and laugh a bit at the end. There was heat creeping up your neck.

"Yeah. You're the prettiest when you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm the only person in the world." You're sure you're as red as a tomato now. Your stomach is flooded with butterflies as you stare into Yerim's eyes closely. There's something mischievous with the way she's smirking at you right now. Something sparkling in her eyes.

"Do you like it when I do that?" It's a genuine question. You wonder that with Yerim drunk, she'd say and admit things you weren't sure she would otherwise. She tugs on your arm and makes you turn to face her.

"Yes. I do." Before you can respond she kisses you. The slight taste of alcohol is on her lips as you make contact. You gently push her off of you, not wanting her to have her kiss you when she wasn't thinking the clearest. She gives you a sad look as and whines.

"Do you not like me?" She asks with tears threatening to spew out.

"Of course I do." You smile at her. You raise a hand to caress her redden cheeks and your finger lightly grazes her bottom lip. You opt to kiss her forehead rather than her lips. "I just don't want you to do anything foolish."

You continue escorting Yerim to the van. When you enter, no one questions how clingy she was being.

It's the morning after. You knock on Yerim's door with a glass of water and some pain medication in your other hand. After a few seconds you hear the sounds of some muffled footsteps before the door was opened. Yerim's head appeared in the small opening she created. She looked at you for a few seconds before leaving the door opened and falling back onto her bed.

You follow after her, closing the door behind you when you enter her room. You bring the glass of water to Yerim's face and she drinks a couple large gulps. You show her the tablets of medicine in your hand and she plucks them off, grabbing the glass and downing it with them.

"Thanks." She says with a slightly scratchy morning voice.

"Mhm." You hum and nod before sitting on the side of her bed. You stare at the furniture that she had around her room before Yerim started speaking again.

"Did I do something last night?"

"You did a lot of things last night." You tease her with vagueness.

"But did I do something I'd regret?" She asks with a scared tone. You stop looking around her room and stare at her instead.

"If liking me and having me like you back is something you'd regret, then yes, you very much did." You say with a smile. Yerim quickly looks away from you before taking a deep breath in and out.

"Did I try kissing you?"

"You did, but I'd rather kiss you when you know that you're kissing me. Like this." You lean over to her and gently grab her face, pulling it towards you. "May I?" Yerim nods.

You kiss her, and you'd like to consider it your true first kiss together. You feel her lips tugging up into a smile before you pull away. You knew things would be hard. With Yerim being an idol and you as her manager. When you look at Yerim's face brimming with happiness though, you can't help but to think that it'd be worth it to try.

#red velvet imagines #rv x reader #red velvet scenarios #rv yeri #kim yerim #kim yerim x reader #yeri x reader #red velvet #red velvet kpop #kpop writing #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #kpop girls #kpop imagines #red velvet x reader #gg writing #kpop gg #gg scenarios #gg imagines

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libsterslobsters · 4 years

Text

I'm Gonna Crawl: Post 2

Post 1

Summary: Five years. That's how long the reader and Bucky have been apart (although for him, it was only five minutes) Now with Thanos defeated and both of them taking up the mantle of Avengers, can their relationship return to what it was? Or will they have to discover a new normal?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! super-soldier! Reader (Reader can see pieces of the future in visions as well as speak every language)

Warnings: Angst, fluff, language, smut (IF YOU ARE UNDER EIGHTEEN, DON'T READ!!!)

*************************************************

One of the perks of being “enhanced” or in this case, a super soldier, is that you heal quickly. Within seventy-two hours, the bullet wound in his leg (not to mention the cut and black eye he sustained from several sharp blows to the face) and her matching one in the shoulder are almost completely healed, only a vague pink mark to show they were ever injured. The downside is-

“Do you want to punch sandbags until they fly off the hook, or run thirty miles around the compound first? I’ll start with whichever you don’t pick.” -they’re back to training as well.

He almost answers that he really doesn’t want to do either, it’s Sunday morning, for fuck’s sake, but it’s not like this is her first choice for what she could be doing this morning either, so he goes with-

“Punching things first. Think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, so I’d best get it out of my system.” She nods and, squeezing his arm, takes off at a jog.

“See you on the other side.”

His instinct is to tell her to take it easy, she lost a lot of blood the other day and who knows if there’s been some bone or muscular damage that hasn’t quite fixed itself yet, but again, he swallows it down and focuses on the task at hand. Namely, taking out his bad mood on a punching bag.

Usually, when his body is in motion, his mind is at least somewhat at rest, but this time around, the exertion is just adding fuel to the flames. He’s too pissed off to just zone out and concentrate on hitting the target, still too busy trying to process what the hell happened three nights ago.

It was their first mission together. She’s been on a few separate from him, and he and Sam get called out together on the regular. Stupidly, he assumed that, since her specialty is translating or gathering intel, maybe being the little voice in someone’s ear to direct them through a maze of assailants and twisting corridors her visions had allowed her a glimpse of ahead of time, she’d be out of the line of fire. At the very least, most of the attention would be on him and Sam. But no, she was the bogey. She drew fire while he waltzed through a military fortress, recapturing stolen tech. When Rhodey so much as mentioned that possibility, he should’ve told him no, hard no. If anyone’s drawing fire, it’s him. Still, in his arrogance, he assumed it wouldn’t come to that extreme. Sam’s good at his job, and as much as he hates the reason behind it, so is he. They should’ve been able to hold the line without her painting a target on her back.

That, of course leads to yet another issue. He’s also pissed at himself for instinctively seeing her as more fragile, something that needs to be protected. Even before the same chemicals running through his veins infected her, she’d proven that she’s a damn capable person. He knows that she’s smart, both strategically and academically. Add onto that the fact that she’s fast and strong, not to mention she has visions (less than helpful ones most of the time, but they have their moments), and she’s a powerful ally. He certainly wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. And yet, when he saw that she’d been hit, his mind completely emptied. He wouldn’t have been able to remember which end of a gun to use if his life depended on it, because all he could think was, “Oh god. She’s hurt.” It’s old-fashioned, outdated. He should be past this mindset, at least when it comes to work. Out there, she’s his fellow soldier, not the woman he lies awake next to in bed, sometimes for hours, just to listen to her breath and know he’s not alone. Did Steve ever put Peggy in that box, he wonders? No, of course not, because Steve’s a better man than he ever was or will ever be. So yeah, he’s pissed off at himself.

And finally, although he can barely admit it to his own mind, he’s pissed off at her. Logically he knows it’s mostly fear, some primal instinct to protect what’s his, but every time he imagines her being shot, having a bullet pass by her lungs and arteries by a very narrow margin, and then telling Sam not to let him know that she was hit, it irks him. Did she think he’d come unhinged? Screw up? Or is she stuck in the mindset she seems to have adopted as a response to the last five years of “Screw looking after myself. It doesn’t matter.” A small part of him realizes that he didn’t call in either when he took a bullet, but that’s him! And, now he’s circling back to guilt for treating her like she’s weak.

All in all, he’s so damn furious that he doesn’t realize he’s no longer alone until she grabs hold of his arm just as he goes to swing again.

“Jesus, Bucky. I know you’re grouchy, but don’t you think destroying five punching bags in thirty minutes is enough? Save some aggression for the run.”

He looks up to tell her something (I’m sorry? Damn right I’m grouchy? Let me take you home and wrap you in blankets so that nothing will ever hurt you again?) and catches sight of her sweat-soaked face. He hates how far she takes things with the running. It’s like she’s trying to see what the limits are, how much she can punish her body before it gives out and she drops. That’s what it was in the very beginning after the snap. She’s told him that. Now he wonders if she’s really as recovered from everything that’s happened as she claims.

“Have you had anything to drink? Water, or-” She groans and reaches to detach the punching bag (there’s a decent sized rip in it where he was hitting it over and over), making her shirt ride up. Her clothes were already so tight that just seeing her out of the corner of his eye was making it hard to think, but now they’re completely adhered to her in a way that’s nearly obscene thanks to all the sweat. Dammit. Think about something else. He needs to think about something else.

“Yes, I’m on my second water bottle, thank you Barnes. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Just self-destructive.” It slips out before he can stuff it down. Her mouth falls open in shock momentarily, but then she squares her shoulders and looks him directly in the eyes.

“You’re one to talk. Always running straight towards the fire instead of putting it out first.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s your hangup.” She laughs bitterly. “Bucky Barnes, the big, bad Winter Soldier. You’ve decided you’re so fucked up that the only way you can make amends is to run headlong towards whatever’s trying to kill you, without backup I might add, and keep to your mission no matter what your personal damage is.”

“Says the woman who took a bullet and stopped Sam from announcing that you’re hit.” They’re teetering closer and closer to a fight with every nearly snarled word, but he’s powerless to stop it. In fact, he’s ready to go. Have it out. But not right now, because-

“Hey.” He catches her arm just as she starts to hoist another punching bag onto the hook. “Be careful! You’re still healing.” -she’s hellbent on hurting herself. Again.

She whirls around as if he’s slapped her.

“Oh my god. You have to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop treating me like I’m going to break!” Her voice is shrill, rising higher and higher with each syllable. “I love you, but you are driving me insane. I am not your child-”

“No, you’re the person I want to marry!” He takes a deep breath, preparing to follow up with, “-and you keep acting like you have a death wish”, but before he can-

“You won’t even fuck me anymore!” Immediately, her eyes go wide and she slaps a hand over her mouth.

If her declaration surprised her, it absolutely stunned him so, not quite sure what else to do, he takes a few steps back and sits down. A few seconds pass before she approaches and, with a heavy sigh, sinks down next to him.

“Bucky, I am so sorry. I don’t know where any of this is coming from-”

“I think you do, Doll.” Her eyes dart nervously between his face and the floor. On instinct, he reaches over and takes her hand. “And so do I.” He takes a few moments to rearrange his thoughts before pushing ahead. “A lot has changed since-”

“The world ended. We lost. And then we won.” He nods.

“Yeah, and I don’t think either of us have quite wrapped our heads around it. I know I haven’t.”

It’s silent for a moment, and then, voice trembling, she tells him,

“After you went away, I was completely lost. Didn’t know why I had to stay. What kind of cruel trick is it, just when everything was starting to go right-” He finally had the poison of HYDRA sucked out of him, she’d found a safe place where she didn’t have to run and hide because of something she was born with, he’d worked up the nerve to ask her if she’d maybe one day be his wife. “-and then it’s wiped out? You finally went somewhere I couldn’t follow.” He still can’t imagine what those five years must’ve been like, not just for her, but everyone else who survived the snap. “I didn’t want to keep going. But I had to.” She chuckles. “Steve wouldn’t let me throw in the towel.”

A smile forms on his own face. “Yeah, he had a habit of doing that.”

“I guess…” She sighs. “I don’t know. I got harder, rougher around the edges. I thought I could just go back to normal once everyone came back-”

“But old habits die hard.” It’s not a question, but she nods.

“Yeah, and as much as I chip away at it, I’m not sure I’ll ever get back to who I was before.”

“You won’t.” She peers up at him, eyes wide in shock, maybe a hint of sadness. “I can tell you that right now from experience. You won’t go back, but-” He’s had a lot of time to consider this, so he can say it and absolutely believe it. “-I love the girl that’s here now. She’s pretty amazing, rough edges and all.”

She’s sitting so close. He could pull her into his lap, just hold her for a minute. So, that’s what he does, and just like the first time, they fit together perfectly, like she was made to fit in his arms, or maybe he was made to hold her. Either way, it leaves no doubt in his mind that they belong together.

“You changed. Everyone does. You got stronger and tougher, because that’s who you had to be. And I wasn’t there to change with you.” He can feel her shoulders shake, and even though she’s facing away from him, he knows she’s fighting back tears. “But I’m gonna catch up. It’s just taking me a while to get it through my thick skull that my girl’s a badass, and I need to ease off the bodyguard routine a little.” There. That’s more like it. A laugh, even if it’s a small one. “I just worry about you, is all. I don’t know how to stop it, and I’m not sure I can, but I’m working on it.”

“I worry about you too, you know.” She sniffs, swiping at her nose with her hand. “I’m fucking terrified because, now that I’m like you, I know what your limits are. I’m scared you’ll forget them, or you’ll ignore them because you’re trying to be a good man.” She cranes her head, meeting his gaze. “But you are a good man, Bucky Barnes. You never stopped being one, no matter what you think.”

“I think your picture of me might be more flattering than who I really am.”

“Shut up.” She presses her palm over his mouth. “I have visions, so seeing is never my problem. And it’s not the way I’m picturing you. We’ve known each other long enough for the shine to wear off.” Never. It’ll never be possible for him to know her so long that she’s not absolutely golden from where he’s standing. “It’s who you’ve shown me you are. And if the rest of the world doesn’t see it, that’s their problem. Not yours.”

He’s not sure if he buys all that, but it’s enough that she does. She sees him as that man, so he’ll try every day of his life to be just that.

“Come on.” Gently pushing her off of him, he stands and offers her his hand. “That’s enough training for today. We’re still wounded.”

She chuckles. “Is that your excuse for calling it early?”

He nods, barely suppressing a grin. “That, and you’ve gotta change into something that doesn’t fit you like a second skin before my brain permanently short-circuits.”

“Showers, then?”

“Showers.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

The compound sustained heavy damage thanks to Thanos crashing a ship into it, but in the past few months (helped along by Pepper’s billions and the entire galaxy’s appreciation towards the Avengers in equal parts), enough repairs have been done to make it partially usable. In this case, the locker room. Just the one, though. Which, of course means co-ed showers.

She won’t admit it, but she’s particularly appreciative of that little detail today. As she circled the compound on her last lap, she saw that the only two cars there are hers and Barnes. They’re the only two people here, and she fully intends to use that to her advantage.

“Join me? I don’t want to overextend my shoulder trying to wash my hair or back.” It’s a blatant lie, and from his expression, she can tell that he knows it too. But, he nods.

“Yeah, doll. I can do that.” Part one of the plan has been executed beautifully. Onward to part two.

She purposely leaves the travel sized bottles of shampoo and body wash on the floor so that, after rinsing off for far longer than is really necessary, she has to bend over to retrieve them. If it weren’t for her enhanced hearing, she’d completely miss the sharp intake of breath in response to her little show, but she catches it and can’t help grinning to herself. Part two: get him as worked up as she is. So far, so good.

The feeling of his fingers massaging her scalp, working the shampoo through her hair, is almost enough to make her forget that she’s a woman on a mission. Almost. As soon as she’s rinsed the soap out of her face, she turns to him.

“Your turn. Bend.” It’s not the first time they’ve done this, and as always, she has to fight back a laugh as he inclines his head towards her, the entirety of his hair falling forward to cover his face. “This used to take a lot longer before you decided to chop it all off.” He chuckles, eyes closed against the soap.

“What can I say? Seventy-three years without a haircut is my limit.” She can’t blame him, and although it was a shock at first, she’s come to like this new look. It makes him look…younger, somehow. More boyish. Like his life hasn’t contained as many horrors as they both know full well it has.

“You checking for lice or something?”

“Huh?” That jerks her out of her sentimental daze. “Looks like you’re clear.”

There’s no way to put it politely. She’s straight up ogling him as he rinses off. Five damn years…

“Ready to get your back?” And, she just got caught staring.

“Sure.”

His hands are gentle, putting as little pressure on her injured shoulder as possible, growing firmer as they work down her back. She holds her breath as she feels his palms ghost over the swell of her ass, but then he’s back to safer territory. At least, that’s what she thinks until the metal arm snakes around her chest, just below her breasts, holding her in place. His free hand runs down from her sternum to her middle, stopping just above her hips, then- fuck. Nothing. He’s backing away.

“Do you need help with your legs?” No, what she needs help with is located between them. Suddenly, the shower feels far too hot, and she’s desperate to cool off.

“That’s okay.” Her voice is shaky, and she mentally berates herself as she steps under the spray, rinsing away the soap.

She’s not at all sure that her excuse for leaving the shower and going to towel off made any sense, but with a few feet between them, she’s able to breath again. Alright, scratch the whole “shower seduction” idea. It wasn’t that great to begin with. She gets him as hot and bothered as she is, and then what? Shower sex is a slippery affair, and plus there’s the height difference… in the steamed up mirror, she catches sight of him climbing out of the shower and toweling off. Fuck it. What does she have to lose?

“Come here.” As he turns around, she hops up on the counter top (thank fuck Stark went all out and got the sinks that can easily hold the weight of an adult), allowing her towel to slip further down her chest.

She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flit down to her cleavage before settling back on her face as he stands in front of her.

“Yeah, Doll?”

“Let me get your hair. You’ll never get it dry yourself.” She’s really running low on excuses, but if she plays her cards right, she won’t have to keep up this ruse for much longer.

“You know-” She murmurs against his ear as she starts working a towel over his tousled locks, “-if you don’t take me right now, I’m gonna be really offended.”

His head snaps up, and she nearly drops the towel.

“Well, I can’t let that happen, can I?”

She has a smart-ass remark all planned out, but then his lips are pressed against hers, hard, insistent, and her brain completely empties of anything other than pure need. She’s not completely sure how, but somehow the towel wrapped around her torso (it’s so short, it didn’t even cover her ass sitting down) disappears, leaving them chest to chest, both still slightly damp from the shower. On instinct, her legs wrap around his back, bringing them so close together she can feel his cock twitch against her thigh.

“The floor, or-” It’s murmured against her ear between nibbles.

“No. Here.” It’s all she can do to hold back a moan as his whole body rumbles with quiet laughter.

“Someone’s eager.”

She leans back far enough to peer into his eyes.

“And you’re not?” The response is a thumb against her clit, and she has to bite down hard on his shoulder to muffle a yelp.

“If I’d known you were ready, you wouldn’t have gotten any sleep for the past two months.” That would’ve been a very small price to pay.

Five years is a long time, and her body tenses up at the intrusion of his finger inside of her, but she immediately forces her muscles to relax, and within seconds, it’s all she can do not to writhe against him.

“That’s it. Relax. I’ll take care of you.” It’s a lost cause. This is going to be noisy. She hazily thinks to herself that it’s all his fault.

He’s always been one for foreplay, making sure she’ll be comfortable once they actually get around to the main event, but finally enough is enough and, reaching between them, she stills his wrist.

“Get inside me.”

“Are you sure? You’re still tight-” Disentangling one of her arms from around his neck, she gives his hair a sharp tug.

“I’m like you now, remember? You’re not going to break me.”

He pulls back from her, hesitating, eyes darting between her face and the door.

“What?”

“I don’t have-” Oh. She quickly runs the calculations in her head. Given which day of the month it is, the likelihood would be-

“It’ll be fine. Just pull out.” To her relief, he doesn’t argue.

Her breath catches as he pushes inside of her, and if the panting against her neck is anything to judge from, she’s not the only one affected.

“It’s been too damn long.” Despite the situation (or perhaps because of it), she laughs breathlessly.

“You think it’s been too long? Try five fucking years!” His laugh tickles her neck.

“You’re never gonna stop using that one, are you?”

“Nope. I think I’ve earned the right.” After all, he constantly reminds her that he had to wait 98 years to meet the love of his life, so fair is fair.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you.”

“Sounds like you just set yourself a challenge.”

“Guess I’d better get to work then.” As he says it, he pulls nearly all the way out only to slam back in again.

It’s primal, the way their bodies move together, desperate for a connection that’s been missing for so long. There’s no room or need for words to be spoken; their gasped breaths and strangled moans say it all. His hand sneaks between them, toying with her nub, and that’s what sends her over the edge. It’s the tipping point for him too because, muffling his cries against her shoulder, he pulls out just in time.

“We shoulda done that before the shower.” She’s still gasping for breath, but it forces a laugh from her. He follows suit, offering her a spare towel to clean herself up.

“You’ve been holding out on me, Barnes.” He shoots her a questioning look as she hops down on shaky legs. “I thought it was good before, but damn.”

He laughs, pulling on his jeans. “I didn’t want to risk breaking the bed. I’m a gentleman like that.” She knows the real concern was her safety, but if she concentrates on that too hard, she’ll start going mushy, and in this instance, crying after sex seems like it would kill the mood.

“You know-” She pulls her t shirt over her head, not bothering with a bra. “-I never really liked the bed I have now anyway.” It’s also really too small for two full-grown adults to share comfortably.

Sliding his duffle bag over his shoulder, he takes her hand. “Then maybe we should go home? Give you an excuse to get a new one?” Before she can answer-

“Go home. Please, I’m begging you, for the love of god, go.” Her eyes dart towards the source of the noise. The door, or more specifically, the other side of it. “Hearing you and the bionic man fucking once was enough. I’m gonna shoot you both and then myself if I have to listen to round two.”

Bucky catches her eye and mouths “Oops!”, sending her into a fit of giggles.

“You know Sam, you could’ve just walked away. You didn’t have to wait outside the door like a creep.” She has to bite her fist to keep from laughing out loud.

“Yeah, trust me. I could hear you from all the way down the hall.”

“Sorry.” She gasps it out between bouts of laughter, and she must be pulling a funny face, because he snickers to.

“No, you’re not.” No, she really isn’t. Just that they got caught.

“We’re heading out. You’ve got the place to yourself.” Giving his hand a tug, she pulls open the door, revealing a flustered Sam.

“I hope you remembered to wipe down the counter, you nasties!”

As they make their way down the corridor, Bucky calls out,

“See you Monday?”

“Yeah. And you’d better be wearing pants!”

#marvel #captain america #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #post endgame #smut #part 2

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mopeytropey · 4 years

Text

a beer bud series: chapter 11

author’s note: times are tough. stay safe. read some fluffy fic. take care of each other.

Timeline: this is set just before Lincoln and Octavia's wedding, probably in the realm of chapters 11 and 12 of apu, after Clarke has given Lexa a key and asked her to move in (because they are both too gay to function)

Beer: La Ferme Urbaine FARMHOUSE ALE

Influenced by the Belgian saison style, La Ferme Urbaine features a complex blend of German hops, pilsner and pale malts, wheat, rye, oats, and spelt. The beer pours a hazy straw color and delivers a spicy, dry finish.

ABV 7.8%

Posted to AO3 here, or below the cut:

:::

“This is going to require some intense renovations.” Lexa stands with her hands in her front pockets, neck craned towards a dilapidated two-story house on a small corner lot. Its Victorian architecture is nearly eclipsed by peeling paint, broken windows, and a sagging porch, but the way Lincoln’s face beams, it’s as if the house shows no signs of disrepair. “You sure you’re up to task?”

“Hell, yeah.” Lincoln’s confidence is as strong as the late afternoon sun, glaring in a burning orange glow as it reflects off the windows of the historic city buildings surrounding them.

He then launches into an animated diatribe of improvements and restoration projects, pacing the perimeter of the property as he gestures to certain aspects of the house with broad hands. He and Octavia have likely discussed these visions of their future home endlessly as they await inspection reports and closing signatures to make everything final. Their initial offer had been accepted almost immediately, and Lexa has to believe it is thanks to, in part (if not entirely), the authenticity of her good friend’s charming demeanor.

“It’ll be a massive undertaking, but with the right help—”

“You planning to swing a sledge with me during the demo stage?” Lincoln grins.

“God, no.” Lexa nearly shudders. “Though I imagine Clarke might enjoy the destructive release of aggression after some of her more challenging bar shifts.”

Lincoln chuckles and returns to stand by Lexa’s side as they continue to gaze up at the house. “Yeah, Octavia too.”

“I’m so excited for you.” Lexa smiles up at him, nudging their shoulders together as Lincoln meets her eye with a grin of his own. “About everything.”

His upcoming nuptials (which have explicitly been banned from being referred to as a wedding) are less than two months away, and Lincoln hopes to have the keys to their new house in hand before the ceremony. He and Octavia seem happier than ever—real life exemplars of a healthy, supportive relationship between two friends in love. Lexa feels a kindred satisfaction at having found something similar with Clarke. Perhaps no one would have predicted these outcomes, but she and Lincoln have done rather well for a couple of kids who spent years feeling unwanted and unloved.

“What can I say: I’m living my best life.”

“Truly,” Lexa laughs, leaning into the nook of Lincoln’s armpit as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

Even for early April, the weather has warmed, and the sun hangs in the sky for longer intervals. There’s no longer a bite in the air, even in the cooler, evening temperature. The breezes coming in off of the harbor have a fresh scent, like rejuvenation in the air that will soon breed blossoms on all the trees and fresh shoots of grass beneath their feet.

Lexa is perfectly comfortable in her jeans and a soft, grey henley layered with a pastel flannel that she has permanently borrowed from Clarke’s side of the closet. A closet that they now share in an official capacity. Lexa’s mouth slopes into a stupid grin at the thought of their now shared space. Her stomach swoops because of the new gold key in her pocket that she can feel between her fingers.

“I could say the same for you,” Lincoln tells her, somehow reading her thoughts. “You get all your stuff moved in yet?”

Her breath stutters at the mention of it, at the vision of scattered boxes and her random belongings that have slowly infiltrated Clarke’s space. “My lease isn’t up until the end of the month, so I’ve been moving things gradually.”

“Not ready to fully commit, huh?” Lincoln jabs with a teasing grin.

“I feel exceptionally confident about it, thank you very much.”

“What? Just like that?” Lincoln laughs. “Where is the torturous, internal Lexa struggle? Where are the mountains of anxiety about making the wrong call or moving too fast? Is this what four months as Clarke’s girlfriend has done to you?”

Lexa shrugs as if her chest hasn’t just snapped like a rubber band at being called Clarke’s girlfriend, a title that still sparks jittery excitement. Particularly when she is still grasping the house key that Clarke has recently given her. “Apparently.”

“Well, it’s a good look on you.”

“Thanks.”

They’ve stopped at the house Lincoln intends to buy with Octavia on their way to food and beer at Dockside, having fallen into the habit of visiting the girls during their longest shift of the week. With the mention of Clarke and the newest development in their relationship, Lexa feels a sudden wave of impatience to continue their walk to the bar where she knows Clarke and Octavia will be waiting to greet them.

Lincoln releases a long, contented sigh. “Should we head down to see the girls?”

Lexa exhales in turn and attempts to answer in a measured and completely unhurried manner: “Sure.”

:::

It’s just shy of six when Lincoln pulls open the front door of Dockside, allowing Lexa to walk through into the familiar establishment. Her eyes perform a practiced scan of the room, but Clarke isn’t immediately visible as she and Lincoln head straight for the half-empty bar counter.

Octavia is chatting with other customers as Lexa and Lincoln approach, but she winks at Lincoln, her mouth curving just so, mid-conversation, which has him beaming as he slides into a bar stool.

“That’s my future wife,” he stage whispers, and Lexa can’t help but smile at how ridiculous being in love with Octavia has made him.

They’d been more than halfway to the bar when Lexa had received an S.O.S from Clarke about caffeine and sudden fatigue and exaggerated pronouncements of loyalty, commitment, and sexual favors if Lexa would bring her coffee. Of course, it strictly goes against her better judgement to enable Clarke’s reliance on caffeine in unhealthy measurements.

Then again, Lexa has lost almost all ability to ever actually tell her no because being in love with Clarke has made her better judgements ridiculously feeble.

As such, she stands beside Lincoln with a small half-caf drip in a paper cup from Clarke’s favorite roaster, a generous concession without fully giving in to her girlfriend’s unredeemable habit.

“Clarke’s in the back if you want to bring that to her,” Octavia says as she approaches.

“Oh. Okay.” Lexa starts for the black swinging door of storage before Octavia calls out again.

“Sorry—not the stockroom. The other back.” She’s jutting her thumb over her shoulder when Lexa turns around, indicating the narrow corridor behind the bar counter that leads to Clarke’s office and the back entrance.

“Oh. Right. Thanks,” Lexa smiles. “I’ll be right back,” she says to Lincoln.

“I’m starting a timer on my phone,” he calls after her. “Just because I’m curious to see how long it takes you to deliver a cup of coffee.”

She just manages to stop herself from flipping him off before pushing through the door, leaving him with a meaningless scowl.

:::

Clarke looks up from whatever she’s been working on as Lexa steps into the open doorway with a smile she intends to curb by biting her lower lip.

“Hey.”

“Oh my god, I can't believe you actually brought me coffee. I love you.” Clarke says it offhand, a bit theatrically even, but Lexa’s stomach flip-flops all the same.

She enters the office with a slow stride and gently places the paper cup onto Clarke’s desk. “That’s half decaf, by the way.”

Clarke’s face falls as she eyes the beverage with sudden disdain. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we have to break up.”

“Ouch. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Get over here.” Clarke has already snared her wrist with a widening smile, pulling at Lexa’s arm so that she is forced to lean across the desk and meet Clarke’s waiting grin. “Hi,” she almost whispers after their lips part.

“Is this how you typically break up with people? Because it’s actually pretty enjoyable,” Lexa murmurs into the space between their lips.

“Shut up,” Clarke laughs before they are kissing again, Lexa’s palms flat against the desktop while Clarke’s fingers thread into her hair.

It’s still a soft greeting and nothing obscene—two people happy to be in the same space again after a short time apart—but Lexa feels the quickening of her pulse all the same.

“Thank you for my fake coffee.”

“Clarke.”

“Lexa.”

Never before has she felt so unapologetically mocked by a single person yet utterly enamored in spite of it. Lexa pinches her lips together and looks away from Clarke’s teasing smile.

“I have to get back out there,” she announces, finally pulling back to stand at her full height. “Lincoln thinks he’s being clever by setting a timer for my return.”

Clarke stands with a laugh. “I’ll come with you. I need a break from these orders anyway.” She holds her fake coffee with one hand and finds Lexa’s fingers with the other. She kisses Lexa’s shoulder cap and regards her fondly. “I’m never getting this shirt back, am I?”

“Especially not now that we’ve broken up.”

The genuine hurt that immediately darkens Clarke’s eyes coupled with her protruding lower lip stops Lexa from moving towards the office doorway.

She stills her movements entirely as Clarke says, “I don’t want to joke about breaking up anymore.”

“It was your joke to begin with,” Lexa softly reminds her, nevertheless smoothing the pad of her thumb over Clarke’s lower lip.

“I know,” Clarke says, frowning still. “It was a stupid joke, and I don’t like to think about it.”

A soft press of her lips to Clarke’s forehead has her leaning into the touch, releasing Lexa’s fingers to curl an arm around Lexa’s waist.

“If you think you would be able to get rid of me that easily, Clarke, we might need to revisit some previous conversations about my intentions in being with you.”

“I seem to recall some very persuasive measures that we engaged in alongside those conversations,” Clarke says, her smile pressing into Lexa’s neck where she has tucked her head beneath Lexa’s chin.

Lexa hums through a smile of her own. If she didn’t know Clarke so well, it would be easy to mistake her perpetual, single-minded focus on sex as a complete lack of sentimentality.

But, Lexa isn’t fooled.

Clarke thrives on crass innuendo and well-meaning objectification (both of herself and Lexa), but she can also be openly sensitive and affectionate. Vulnerable in her need to be near Lexa—to feel safe and connected—as often as possible.

Lexa can’t say for sure if they will always be so desperate for each other’s company, if small fractions of time spent apart will continue to breed an urgency for reuniting. She has been in enough relationships to know that attachments usually fade and the needs of each person most often change over time.

Still, something tells her that when it comes to this relationship, Clarke will break the mold of every truth Lexa has previously known.

“The point is: I’m not going anywhere,” Lexa tells her, and Clarke looks up at her with a renewed smile. “Although, you’re still not getting this shirt back.”

Clarke kisses the underside of her jaw and tightens the hold she has around her waist. “You can keep all of my shirts as long as I get to keep you.”

“Deal,” Lexa answers, finally leading them out of the office.

Lincoln will roast her for having taken an exorbitant amount of time to deliver Clarke’s coffee, but having Clarke hugged against her side, Lexa finds she doesn’t exactly care.

:::

In an hour’s time Lexa has been fed no less than six times—small plates of food from the kitchen’s rotating menu like an assembly line in front of her and Lincoln—and an empty beer glass is no sooner bussed than another full one appears. As it turns out, dating a bar manager and sustaining a lifelong friendship with her business partner’s fiancé is a pretty good gig for libations and keeping well fed. By 8:00, she’s not necessarily sober, but the continuous parade of appetizers that Octavia and Clarke slide in front of Lexa and Lincoln keep her from tipping over the edge into properly drunk.

“This one is my favorite.”

“You’ve said that about the last three.”

Lincoln crunches into his charred nopales and street corn tostada as if to be sure. “Nope. This is the one.”

Lexa smiles around a second bite of her Korean short ribs and savors the balanced marinade—a perfect blend of smoky sweetness and tangy spice.

She is washing it down with a saison from Rhode Island as Octavia swings out of the kitchen and approaches their end of the bar.

“How good is that corn?”

“The whole thing is amazing,” Lincoln tells her.

Octavia swipes an avocado off his plate without hesitation. “What about the Kalbi?”

It sounds conversational, the way that Octavia, as a friend, is asking Lexa about her meal. But, in spending the past year of her life in proximal relation to her, Lexa has determined that, in some capacity, Octavia is actually always working.

“These are easily some of the best short ribs I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah,” Octavia grins. “I’m obsessed with them. Jane has been on staff for less than two months, and she’s already killing it back there.”

“Be sure to extend my compliments to the chef. Beer is incredible, too,” Lexa adds.

“What did Clarke bring you this time? The Foolproof?”

“Their farmhouse, yeah.” Lexa’s attention is drawn to the kitchen doorway again as Clarke exits carrying plates of food. She doesn’t glance in their direction as she drops the plates farther down the bar, but her smile is warm and bright, and Lexa can’t look away.

There’s a generous crowd strung along the bar counter, plus a few of the nearby tables that keep rotating with guests who stay for a drink or two before heading off into the night. Clarke is engaging with the three men who have just received their plates of food, and Lexa’s ears attune to the friendly pitch of her voice while Octavia and Lincoln momentarily hold their own conversation.

Lexa sips her saison and enjoys the way Clarke handles herself in conversation—confident, approachable, friendly, but with a distant professionalism. It’s not until she registers the distinct tone of patriarchal arrogance coming from a few of Clarke’s guests that Lexa realizes Octavia and Lincoln have also clued into the nearby exchange.

From what Lexa can gather, over the din of other surrounding patrons, the men are attempting to challenge the accuracy of Clarke’s knowledge on one of Dockside’s pours. Clearly first-time patrons, to these men, Clarke is easily mistaken as the beautiful bartender in a nice dress with a friendly demeanor who pours their pints and delivers their food. They would never suspect that she is also the unassuming curator of every beer offered within the establishment and a well-read expert in the field of craft brewing.

If she didn’t find misogynistic biases against women in male-dominated fields to be nauseatingly unforgivable, Lexa would almost feel bad for what these guys have coming to them.

“This should be good,” Lincoln mutters with a deviant smile, and Lexa flicks her gaze to find Octavia looking half-amused, half-poised for lethal intervention.

In short, Clarke absolutely eviscerates the men’s inflated egos by seamlessly rattling off a short history on the brewery in question, explaining their evolution of kettle sours and dry-hopped IPAs with thrilling precision, all while maintaining her hospitable smile. The cohort of sexist men are left silenced and stunned as Clarke moves on to tend to the rest of the bar, leaving their gaping jaws in her wake.

“What a bunch of fucking morons,” Octavia grumbles with an eye roll just before another table of guests catches her attention and she is pulled away.

“I love it when she does that,” Lexa says, smiling in Lincoln’s direction.

“It is really gratifying to watch someone’s fragile masculinity skillfully shattered,” he agrees with a satisfied smile. “I’ll never understand it, that intrinsic need to be an expert on everything, but it’s entertaining as hell to see O and Clarke flex on these random assholes who waltz in here and mistakenly try to out-beer them.”

Lexa's smile widens as she and Lincoln clink their beer glasses together. “It really is.”

:::

“One strand of lights.”

“No.”

“A single banner. A classy one.”

“No.”

“Candles. Come on, O, no one can say no to candles.”

“Watch me.” Octavia, who up until this point had been withholding eye contact, gives Clarke a pointed glare. “No.”

Lexa smiles at Clarke’s frustrated groan while sipping her glass of water. Three-and-a-half pints of beer and countless plates of food have left her feeling fully satisfied if not also ready for bed. Clarke won’t close the bar for another few hours, and though Lexa acknowledges this is the reality of their chosen professions, she also wishes to steal Clarke away and take her home for a cuddle.

“Think about Lincoln,” Clarke continues, beating her dead wedding horse, much to Octavia’s dismay. “You’re depriving him of this fanfare, this pizazz, this well-deserved—”

“Don’t drag him into this,” Octavia interjects.

Clarke’s jaw drops. “He’s literally one half of the reason we’re celebrating! And honestly, with how difficult you’re being about this whole thing, it might be more like 70/30.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and starts to walk away, busying herself with clearing empty glasses from a table whose guests have just vacated. “When you two leave, will you take her with you?”

Her voice carries across the now mostly empty bar, and Clarke scowls at Octavia from where Lexa and Lincoln sit at the far end of the counter. They often lay claim to this section of the bar during their Wednesday night visits, and it always feels like a sacred, little huddle.

“That’s a tempting offer,” Lexa answers as Octavia breezes past them to deposit the empty glasses into her bus tub behind the bar.

Her comment successfully erases the look on Clarke’s face as their eyes meet, and she watches Clarke’s frown melt into a dopey smile.

“I’m not leaving you to close by yourself. Stop being so dramatic,” Clarke admonishes, though she is still smiling as her eyes leave Lexa to look over her shoulder at Octavia.

“I’m not by myself,” Octavia grunts, hoisting her black bin of glassware and dirty plates off a low shelf. “Jane and Murph are in the back. Take the orders home and finish them there. You know the last two hours of the night are the slowest midweek. I’ll be fine.”

“Stop trying to get rid of me just because you’re throwing a fit about candles,” Clarke shouts after her even though Octavia has already pushed through into the kitchen.

Their small end of the bar counter temporarily swells with music blaring from the line cooks and back-of-house staff, a stark contrast to the lo-fi hip hop Clarke has playing on a lower volume in the main room.

“I should get home either way,” Lexa admits with a short stretch of her arms, pulling taut the muscles of her back. “You fed me too well, and now I’m sleepy.”

“You’re a grandma every night of the week—in bed before ten or cranky as hell the next day.”

Lexa furrows her brow at Clarke’s unnecessarily accurate depiction of her sleep routines, but Lincoln laughs openly while nudging her shoulder.

“This one’s never been able to burn the midnight oil. Needs that beauty rest to maintain her cheerful disposition.”

“I’m officially breaking up with both of you.”

“Hey.”

Clarke’s pout is back, the color of her eyes saturated in renewed hurt at Lexa’s bad joke. Three-and-a-half beers have also made her forgetful, apparently.

“Sorry, sorry.” She reaches for Clarke’s wrists across the glossed wood of the bar and is gently rubbing her thumbs across Clarke’s pulse points when Octavia reemerges. “Just Lincoln then.”

Lincoln offers a good-natured shrug. “That’s fair.”

“See?” Octavia eyes the affectionate gesture between Clarke and Lexa with a practiced look of exasperation. “You could be doing this loved up shit in the privacy of your own home.”

“Says the one who is about to profess her undying love and commitment publicly in front of all our closest friends,” Clarke argues.

“I feel like if you keep reminding her, she’s more likely to back out,” Lincoln muses, and Lexa wonders if he is only half kidding.

Octavia pins him with a look. “Never.”

It’s a charged moment just for them, despite the fact that Clarke and Lexa are caught in its crosshairs, Lincoln grinning as he catches Octavia’s crooked smirk.

“I really should go,” Lexa reiterates quietly, not wanting to interrupt. Her day will start early the following morning with a delivery just south of Boston, and traffic will be nauseating through Sumner Tunnel. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“Seriously, get her out of here,” Octavia interjects. “She overworks and stays late out of guilt and loyalty, and it’s entirely unnecessary.”

“Keep insisting, and I’m gonna say yes,” Clarke shoots back, almost threatening if not for her smile.

“Good. Then you can stop badgering me about fucking tea lights.” Octavia flicks the side of Clarke’s head and smacks her ass as she passes by to clear more tables, and somehow Clarke is charmed by the violent affection.

“I’ll stay and keep her company,” Lincoln offers. “You guys should take off. Enjoy the early night.” He then leans in closely to them both, his head bent in conspiracy. “And, I really do like those paper lanterns that you guys string up on the deck sometimes.”

The way Clarke’s entire countenance glows, eyes sparkling in victorious mischief, has Lexa’s smile growing in kind.

“I. Love you. You wonderful, wonderful human.” Clarke places her hands affectionately on either side of Lincoln’s face and looks as if she might actually plant a kiss between his eyebrows. “I will not let you down or betray your confidence.” Her tone is gravely solemn as if they are alluding to something far more serious than wedding decor.

“Give me a second to gather my things from the office?” she then says to Lexa, her voice shifting to that delicate timbre that turns Lexa’s beating heart to a useless puddle.

She tells her, “Take all the time you need.”

“I’ll be quick.” Clarke reaches for her fingers, giving them a quick squeeze, and disappears into the back hallway.

“Did I mention we did very well, ending up with these two?”

Lexa looks over to catch Lincoln’s giant grin and feels her own lips stretching into a smile. “I’m proud of us.”

Lincoln very nearly giggles. “Me too.”

A beat or two of amicable silence passes between them, in which time Octavia has returned behind the bar to tend to her few, straggling guests.

“What are the chances Clarke already has a shitload of decorations she’s been stockpiling for this party?” Lincoln contemplates aloud.

Lexa’s response comes without hesitation.

“Oh yeah, without question.”

:::

#a beer bud series #apu #a pleasant undoing #brewkru!

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Thank you kindly, Sir (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: AU. your car broke down in the middle of nowhere, fortunately a kind soul stopped to help.

Read Part 2 Here

Author’s notes: I don’t even have an excuse for this one. Pure filth, but feedback is always appreciated. Also, I know nothing about cars. I just did some googling to make it sound remotely real. Sorry for the mess.

Wordcount: 2050

Warnings: smut (oral - male receiving; dirty talk)

“Come on! Work your stupid hunk of metal!” you shouted, kicking the tire and regretting immediately your actions as a shot of throbbing pain rushed through your leg muscles, making everything ache but your frustration was more than understandable.

You were in the middle of nowhere, at night, alone and your car refused to start.

You were supposed to get from San Francisco to Los Angeles for an audition. You considered taking a bus or a plane because your piece of crap car had seen better days and you had been afraid it wouldn’t make the journey, but by the time you were done with the things you needed to do back home, it was too late for either other options so you settled for trusting your car.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

It started choking up about 50 miles from LA. The sun had started to set and you knew you should probably stop and get a mechanic to check it out but there was a big chance that he would want to keep the car for appraisal and you didn’t have time for that. Yet another terrible decision on your part.

You kept ignoring the coughing and wheezing until a small billow of smoke started to come out of the hood and by then it was too late, you had to pull over on the shoulder to take a look. The only problem was that you knew absolutely nothing about cars so you just stared at the metal guts of your vehicle, the searing air making you cough and step aside, the smell of burned oil and something else you didn’t know filling your nostrils uncomfortably.

Resigning to your incompetency, you closed the hood again, deciding to drive back to the gas station you had seen a couple of miles back but of course, by then the car refused to start and here you were, stuck and desperate, your phone constantly beeping, signally low battery.

You had already called road assistance, but they would take at least an hour to arrive. This was so not your day.

Leaning against the hood, you adjusted the skirt of your floral dress and pinned your hair up on the top of your head. Summers in California could be so unforgiving. Even at night, there was barely any breeze and you could feel the sweat sticking uncomfortably to your skin, especially your brow, nape, and the valley of your breast.

You started slightly when you heard the noise of a powerful engine and turned just in time to see a motorcycle pulling up behind your car, a figure clad in all black on top. You felt tension taking hold of your muscles and you let the key of your car fit between your knuckles just in case you had to do some damage

“Car trouble?” the man asked, taking off his helmet and all you could make out was dark hair and beard.

“Yes. Road assistance is in their way,” you announced, hoping he would take as a warning, but he just swung a long leg over the body of the bike, and you realized how tall he was. When he took off his leather jacket, you managed to see the broad shoulders and part of you felt a bolt of exhilaration, but the sane part just felt afraid.

“May I take a look?” he asked, taking a step forward hands in full display for you. “I’m a mechanic.”

You hesitated, glancing from him to your car. Now he had stepped into the light, you could see a tanned face marked by the years, but so much kindness in his brown eyes that you just nodded, stepping aside so he could approach.

“I’m Keanu, by the way.”

Offering your name back at him, you watched as he nimbly got the hood open and used the flashlight of his phone to take a look into the engine. You couldn’t help but admire the tight shape on his ass on the jeans he was wearing, or the bulging of his biceps on the grey t-shirt he was wearing. The fabric seemed to struggle against the flexing of muscles. You bit your lip, feeling warm again but for a very different reason. Keanu was a very handsome man, that was undeniable, but he was a complete stranger and obviously much older than you. You shouldn’t even let your mind go there.

“Here’s the problem.” The sudden sound of his gravelly voice made you jump. “Your PCV valve is clogged.”

“I have no idea what that is,” you said, coming to stand next to him and Keanu chuckled, pointing at something that you barely registered, too busy staring at the drop of sweat trickling down his temple.

“Do you have a rag or something?” he asked, glancing at you and you wondered how much of your lust he could see in your eyes.

“Hm, not really,” you said, bending over the open window of the passenger side to rummage your glove compartment. “I have paper tissues.”

“That won’t work.” You turned back at him and Keanu didn’t even bother to disguise the way he was checking out your ass and you smirked, slanting back to his side.

He was already elbow-deep into the bowels of your car, pushing wires and tubes aside until he came out with something that looked a bit like a small spout, which he used the hem of his shirt to clean.

“Hold this,” he asked handing you his phone, his hands stained with grease. You obeyed and Keanu took a closer look, blowing into the valve, before, putting it back in place and brushing the back of his hand over his brow, leaving dark stains against the root of his hair.

“Try it now.”

You handed the phone back to him, getting into the driver’s seat only far enough to turn the ignition. The car choked and spluttered but it did come to life and you squealed in delight.

“It’s just a temporary fix,” he warned, cleaning his hands on his jeans and slamming the hood shut. “And I think I spotted at least five other things that need replacement. Honestly, that car is a piece of shit. I’m surprised it’s even running.”

“I just need it to get to Los Angeles,” you said tilting your head back to look at Keanu. He was looming over you as you were still sitting but your legs hung on the outside of the open door. “I have an audition.”

“It should hold until them,” he said, hand on his back pocket and taking out a card, handing it to you. “That’s my shop. Bring it by and I’ll make sure to give you a good deal.”

“Thanks,” you grinned at him, thumb rubbing over the embossed red letters. “And thank you for stopping. You truly saved me now.”

“It’s alright,” he smiled at you, running a hand over his short hair. “It’s not safe for a young woman to be alone on the side of the road like this. You should head out. Call road assistance on the way. It’s getting late.”

Keanu took a step away from you, probably ready to go back to his bike and walk out of your life. Before you could think too much about it, you grabbed his hand, making him stop and glance back at you with an arched eyebrow.

“Please, let me thank you for your kindness.” You looked at him through your lashes, sucking your lower lip into your mouth as you spread your legs very suggestively and Keanu’s eyes widened slightly.

“You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” you cut him off, tugging on his hand gently to bring him closer until he was standing in front of you, his crotch right in your line of sight. “Please.” You ran your hands up his strong thighs, pausing on the waistband of his jeans as you looked up at Keanu, waiting for his nod of confirmation.

With a smug smirk, you undid his pants, pulling down along with his underwear, only enough to let his cock out. You weren’t the only one to be aroused by your interaction, because his large dick was already semi-hard and it only took a few tugs of your hand to bring it to full hardness.

Keanu had a glorious cock. Long and thick, with a slight curve and when you licked up the underside vein, he grunted and slammed his fist on the roof of the car. The power of his strike making you jump, your heart thundering and your cunt throbbing in desperation. He was the kind of man that always attracted you: tall, dark, and handsome, with a mysterious vibe about him. Powerful enough to break you in half and the thought of it was enough to send a rush of wetness into your panties.

You coated his length with saliva, exploring every vein and ridge, teasing Keanu by dipping your tongue in the slit of his head, tasting his precum before engulfing the tip in your mouth and sucking hard.

“Fuck!” he growled, his hips snapping forward slightly but you were ready for it and the movement didn’t choke you too much. “You’re good at this,” he commented, his voice lower and throaty. “You like sucking cock, huh? Are you soaking that seat from having me in your mouth?”

You groaned at his words, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks, taking as much of him as you could and stroking the rest, making sure to swirl your tongue around the head at each upward motion.

A stream of curses and encouragements fell from Keanu’s lips as he rocked his hips, one hand around your nape, more for support than anything else. He let you take all the control and you liked that.

“Shit! I’m close,” he warned, his movements becoming faster and uncoordinated. “You’re gonna let me cum in your mouth, like a good little slut?”

You moaned, nodding slightly and redoubling your efforts, your free hand down your panties, fingering yourself in time with his strokes. Keanu tugged at your hair, making you pull back with on obscene pop and look at him through hooded eyes as you work your clit in steady circles of your fingers. Your legs were spread wide and your clothed cunt in full display for him.

“Beg me for it,” he ordered, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Please, please come in my mouth, Keanu,” you mewed, feeling the rushing wave of your orgasm approaching. “Let me taste your cum.”

“Good little slut,” he smirked at you, letting you take his head into your mouth and stroking himself hard and fast. “And you’re gonna fucking swallow it too.”

He let out a deep grunt when his cock spurted hot ribbons of cum all over your tongue and you hummed at the salty and bitter taste, swallowing every drop and sucking his head to catch everything until Keanu finally pulled back, smiling at you.

“Come on, it’s your turn,” he encouraged, tucking himself back in his pants and crouching down to better watch you as your fingers rubbed and toyed with your clit, the spark of pleasures building steadily. “Are you gonna cum for me, pet?”

You moaned, letting him pull you closer, claim your mouth in a dirty kiss that had your toes curling and your back arching as your orgasm hit you like a rushing tide and you keened against his lips, your fingers never stopping, dragging out your pleasure for as long as you could endure.

When you finally pulled back for breath, your chest heaving, your skin covered in sweat, Keanu tugged your hand away from your cunt, bringing your drenched fingers to his mouth.

“It’s only fair,” he said, a twinkle of wickedness on his eyes as he licked your juices from your fingers, groaning softly at your taste. Once he was done, he let go of your hand and caught you in another deep kiss, before getting up again.

“Come by the shop after your audition tomorrow” There was an edge of command in his voice, as he caressed your thigh, leaving dirty stains over your skin. “I’ll fix your car and then I’ll fuck that pretty little pussy like it deserves.”

Go to Part 2

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#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves x reader #fanfic #smut #alternate universe

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cherrywoes · 3 years

Text

ichi. (acanthus.)

SAKURA GENTLY RAN HER fingers across the soft, barely there pinpricks of hair at the back of her head. The knots had been too large to untangle without time and copious amounts of conditioner, and while she lamented the loss of growth, she found she quite liked the style. There was enough hair left on the top of her head that it could easily cover the uneven lengths of hair clinging to the bottom half of her scalp. She peered at herself through a small hand mirror Tsunade had provided her and didn’t like what she found. She looked too pale, malnourished, and the once healthy glow she had when she was free had vanished. She looked every bit the prisoner they had made her to be.

Any hope she had previously shriveled up and died when she looked at the crimson mark upon her forehead. When she touched it experimentally, it zinged! into the back of her brain where she felt strange bolts of electricity bounce back and forth within and route back to the mark. It was a very harsh reminder that she was no longer Sakura Haruno—she was someone else, someone who killed her teammates because her pride wouldn’t let her admit to her own weakness.

She gave Tsunade the mirror and pointedly ignored the curious look the Hokage sent her out of the corner of her eye.

“Your trial will be as straightforward as it can be, given the circumstances.” Tsunade tucked the mirror into her pocket with a sigh. She looked tired, as well, as she always did since she had become Hokage. Using sake as her coping mechanism didn’t do her any good, either, despite her younger appearance; Sakura could see it weighing on her, the drag of age and idleness. “I don’t think there’s much you can do in your own defense except to be honest; if you’re lucky, the elders might put you in for an extended prison stay—or they could also execute you outright.”

“Isn’t that what everyone wants though?” Sakura pulled her knees to her chest and squeezed them in an attempt to comfort herself. She didn’t have Naruto to reassure her that everything was okay; he was outside of the village, tracking down an errant Sasuke—his life had boiled down into an endless chase of their former teammate. It was all he could think about the last time she had seen him, his mind focused on dragging him back to Konoha even if it was the last thing the Uchiha wanted for himself. He would hate her, too, for this. “For me to be executed?”

Tsunade frowned. “They want answers, Sakura. The families of the men and women you killed, the wives and husbands and sons and daughters—they all want to know why you did it.”

She closed her eyes, faces flashing through her mind in a quick succession. Yamanaka eyes; Hyuuga eyes; the large frame of an Akamichi, smiling, offering her slices of fruit. “I guess they’ll be disappointed when they learn it was because I lost my abilities and killed them instead because of my own stupidity.”

“You underestimate them, Sakura.” The blonde woman shook her head slowly and gathered up the worn and dirty clothes she had left hanging on the side of the basin. “They’re going to hate you for it. It’s your decision whether or not you give them further reason to hate you even more, or prove them wrong and make up for your mistakes.”

Sakura opened her eyes and stared obstinately at the wall, listening to the words unsaid: if they even accept your apology to begin with.

She didn’t expect acceptance at all.

When Sakura took her first step outside in months, the sun made her eyes water uncontrollably. It was no longer winter within Konoha—not that she had ever favored it to begin with—but autumn, the trees turning from green to a myriad of shades between orange, red, and yellow hues. The grass beneath her shoes was crisp, on the verge of decaying and preparing for the next winter, and filled the air with a familiar scent she hadn’t been sure she would ever experience ever again. The sun was comforting and warm as it surrounded her in a suffocating embrace, her skin already starting to turn rusty red with a sunburn. She didn’t mind it, though—it was almost a reminder of the life she had lied to keep and lost.

“Sakura.” Kakashi stood, waiting for her outside the doors of the prison complex. He was early and nearly on time, Icha Icha Paradise’s sienna cover just barely visible from behind his back, tucked away into his pocket. He looked as tired as Sakura felt, dark eye bags highly visible against his skin, so much so that it looked as if he had earned two right hooks to both eyes. “Are you ready? Or do you want to bask in the sun some more?”

Once, she might have thought he was teasing. But the look in his eye, the tone of his voice, all denoted that he was serious, that he would risk being late if she wanted to sit in the sun and burn just a little bit longer, to feel the freedom that had been taken from her by her own actions. She considered it, momentarily, looking to the sky. The light burned her eyes and a single teardrop fell from her right eye and slid down her cheek. “No.”

“Alright then.” He looked unsure, then, eyeing the ANBU guards that stood behind her in their respective Raccoon and Panda masks. She had never seen them before until now, but she knew that Kakashi didn’t recognize them, either, and it was most likely a deliberate move on the council’s part. “Let’s go then.”

The walk to the Hokage tower and, consequently, the council chambers where her trial would be held, was not a peaceful procession. People, ninja and civilians alike—faces she didn’t recognize, she thought with some relief, even though guilt gnawed at her heart—screamed at her, got so close that spittle flew in her face when they yelled obscenities at her. When words failed, they began throwing rotten fruit, vegetables, and even pots of molding and old food. Several slices of sour cantaloupe slid down her cheek, juices clinging to her skin, gnats flocking to the scent. Her ANBU did nothing to prevent them from chucking a pot of scalding chicken broth on her, either. They were for the public’s safety, not hers; and even so, they wouldn’t have stopped them even if they had been ordered to, she figured.

When it touched her skin, burned like acid and lit her body on fire, she didn’t scream. Burnt, acrid flesh was not a pleasant odor, and combined with the chicken broth, it sent several civilians away with nausea. She could hear them exclaiming over the stench with their faces pulled into looks of disgust, both at the people who had thrown it (fondly, because it was ‘justified’, however bad it smelled) and at Sakura as she trudged by, her skin livid red and breaking into fever. The flesh of her arm, some of her neck, and flecks on her cheek would scar, if the agonizing pain sending her brain into a white fog was any indication.

Kakashi, walking ahead of her at a leisurely pace, was forced to remain impartial. She could understand him, of course, in that aspect. The village would turn on him, too, and then he would truly have nothing left. His team was disbanded, Naruto had devolved into a man on an impossible mission and false hopes, Sasuke had left the village and become Orochimaru’s apprentice and, afterwards, his killer, and Sakura, his final remaining student, had become his protege, his perfect copy—a friend killer, a ninja killer, just as he was.

Perhaps, Sakura thought as she fixed her gaze on Kakashi’s shoes, fate worked in very obvious, very deliberate ways, and was not as mysterious as anyone ever said it was.

Sakura arrived at the Hokage tower dripping with steaming chicken broth, mold clinging to her clothes from various entrees of old food, and reeking of weeks old tea that was just on the verge of becoming kombucha. Shizune waited for them, her face harsh and pale and completely emotionless. If she had any opinion on her former friend’s crimes, she gave no indication of it, her mouth pulled into a straight, thin line, her lips as white as her face.

“They have already convened and arrived at a verdict.” Shizune’s dark eyes darted to Sakura momentarily, the pain there deep and unfathomable, and then back to Kakashi, flicking over the ANBU guards and the growing crowd rioting around the entrance of the building. “Her presence wasn’t necessary.”

Her. As if she was a thing to be spoken of, an object. Once that might have angered Sakura, might have forced her into an enraged spiel, but the only emotion she could muster up at the derogatory tone was faint irritation that was suffused by the harsh throb of the burns on her arm.

“Tsunade’s orders.” Kakashi shrugged. He glanced back at her, then at her burns, and sighed. “At least heal her. Those burns could get infected—”

“I am under order not to provide care to Sakura Haruno under any circumstances.” Shizune shifted uncomfortably at that. “As is the rest of the village. Basic necessities, and nothing more.”

Her former sensei said nothing else and Sakura refused to open her mouth and beg Shizune of all people to heal her. She should have been able to heal herself, yet she had not even a scrap of medical chakra to speak of and risked cutting off her own arm in the process. It would probably be preferable to the festering, infected blisters she would gain in the coming days—if she was even alive to experience it.

She suffered in her own silence, closing her eyes against the pinpricks of hot white light that threatened to send her into unconsciousness. It was easy to block out the pain when she was stuck in her head; her pain tolerance was high, but without the help of her seal, of Tsunade’s healing advice and her medical chakra, she was reduced to biting her lips to stop herself from squalling and collapsing onto the wooden floor beneath her feet. Blood flowed into her mouth, metallic and bitter, like the blood that flowed from her teammates’ veins.

Sakura didn’t know how long she stood there in a half daze, flanked by her ANBU and Shizune and Kakashi talking quietly in front of her in short, stilted sentences. Their opposing affections for her prevented them from talking casually; Kakashi’s guilt prevented him from hating her and Shizune’s righteous sense of justice prevented her from offering her even a shred of pity. They spoke in whispers, so she could barely make out what they were saying, but she could read lips as well as any ninja; mentions of war, famine, disease—which made no sense to her, for what could have happened in the span of five months?

“Shizune. Kakashi.” Tsunade’s descent down the staircase, assisted by the wooden handrail, was slow and awkward. She was a little too hunched over, favoring her right hip and leaning heavily on the wall to support herself. Her gaze darted to Sakura. “Sakura. You came here for nothing. The decision has been made. I’m sorry.”

Kakashi stilled to the point that she wondered if he was even breathing. “They’re going to execute her?”

“Execution… would be a mercy at this point.” Tsunade produced a scroll from her pocket. Shizune’s strangled gasp was loud enough that it caught the attention of the ANBU. It was a thin scroll, no bigger than an index finger, and lined with gold and red trim. Sakura had never seen such a scroll in all her life, but with the way Kakashi went pale and Tsunade looked so defeated, she had to wonder what fate could be so awful, so terrible that even her nonchalant, uncaring teacher would appear to be frightened and disgusted. “The orders are clear and the vote was unanimous. Sakura Haruno will be given to ANBU, given a rank within the War Operations party, and shipped to the frontlines by dawn tomorrow.”

Shizune inhaled sharply. “It’s a death sentence in its own right.”

“Sakura isn’t suited for war,” Kakashi advised, voice breaking slightly. “They couldn’t agree on anything else? Not even execution?”

Tsunade shook her head slowly, guiltily. “Execution was too clean for them. A prison sentence was a slap on the wrist. The people wanted blood—so they gave it to them. Let her spill it for the name of the village, for the people they lost, they said.”

“And what if she survives?” Sakura couldn’t ignore the thread of concern that wove through Shizune’s question. “What about after the war?”

Tsunade looked at Sakura, then, her mouth turned downwards into a deep frown. “Then she may be free; but she can never return to Konoha.”

Nothing else needed to be said. Tsunade passed the scroll to Kakashi and vanished back up the stairs to her office, Shizune following without a glance back. The ANBU removed the chakra cuffs on her wrists, and while it might have felt like a cooling sensation when it returned to her system, all she felt was pins and needles, her nodes brimming to life with malicious energy. She rubbed her wrists tenderly, avoiding the burns as much as she could, and felt Kakashi’s hand land on her shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Come on.” He veered her towards the back exit, where the crowd wouldn’t be able to see her. “We’ll go to my apartment, fix you up, and grab some supplies. Then… Then we wait.”

Wait for her inevitable departure and then, most likely, her death, of which Kakashi would probably never hear about.

“Kakashi-sensei?” She croaked. She could feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, burning her lash line and a knot forming in her throat. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

He paused, hand reaching for the knob of the exit. “Of course, Sakura.”

“Take care of my parents for me, please.” Sakura blinked rapidly to clear the tears from her eyes, the pain in her arm dulled to a numb sensation. If she hadn’t lost all of the nerves in it, she would count it as a blessing, even if she deserved it. “Without me, I don’t think they…”

“Don’t worry.” Kakashi ruffled her hair with a playful hand. It wasn’t quite as effective as it had been when it was shorter, but she could feel the affection within it besides. “I’ll watch over them, Sakura, I promise you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, and he pushed open the door, sunlight spearing through the crack and enveloping her in its oppressive warmth once more.

That night, if Kakashi had any complaints about Sakura sneaking into his room and hugging him tightly, sobs wracking her lithe frame for the first time in months, he didn’t say anything. If she noticed him hug her back, tears running delicate rivers down the striped pillowcase he laid his head on, she gave no indication, pouring her soul out for possibly the last time in the safety of the arms of someone she loved.

Dawn broke, and with it, so did the remnants of Kakashi’s heart.

prologue | masterlist | 二 (ni)

#naruto #naruto shippuden #sakura haruno #kakashi hatake #sakura haruno x kakashi hatake #kakasaku #kimisaku #sakura haruno x kimimaro kaguya #sakura x kimimaro

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