#if it doesn't make me sweat and my lis burn and my mouth burn and my sinuses clear and the heat linger after i've finished my food | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

e-wills-afterhours · 1 year

Note

Heeey. I have a request, Hiccup having phantom pains and Astrid taking care of him? Thanks!

A/N: Sure thing, Nonny. I think I wrote this very oneshot years ago, but I cannot find it, for the life of me. Might as well do an updated version!

And who doesn't love a little Hiccstrid tenderness, amirite?

Our beloved OTP is 17 here. I also seem to be writing a lot of Hiccstrid from the 5-year gap between HTTYD 1 and 2 lately minus RTTE...

Aaaaaand, I'm kind of okay with that right now. I hope you are too.

Rating: T (all of my work pretty much is unless I rate it otherwise)

Just One of Many Things

-------

If Astrid was asked to list all of the things she appreciated about Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, it would be long. Perhaps, equal in length to all of the things that aggravated her about him. Some qualities even held spots in both categories. His stubbornness, for example, could be quite the asset when he was in the right; but just as much a headache when he got stuck on some new harebrained idea.

She loved him, regardless.

Growing up amid dragon raids, she did not understand the old adage "opposites attract." It seemed counterintuitive. What held two people together who could not see eye-to-eye on anything? In those days, there was no one more unsuited for each other's company than she and Hiccup.

But then the fog of war lifted, and she finally saw him for who he was. She came to realize that they had more in common than she dared to imagine. They wanted the same things, from the world and each other; albeit their approaches were drastically different. Therein lied their beautiful counterbalance. Everything she needed was within his capacity to give.

He was patient and kind, slow to anger, and remarkably intelligent--almost frighteningly so. Generous with his resources and abilities, she seldom had to ask him for anything he hadn't already thought to provide. He was the calm to her storm.

But true to form, some of his other admirable qualities irked her as much as they endeared him to her--and in that moment, his fierce independence was the bane of her existence. He had a pesky habit of refusing to ask for help, even if he needed it.

The more she pressed him for the truth, the more he denied the extent of the problem.

"Just because you can suffer in silence, doesn't mean you have to," she huffed, arms folded. "You're not winning any prizes."

"I'm fine," he insisted, through gritted teeth as he limped toward the hearth, all but dragging his prosthetic along.

His gait was always the slightest bit uneven, ever since the Red Death took his left leg. One needed a keen eye to notice it; he had adapted so quickly. It made his exaggerated lurches all the more pronounced and worrisome as he braced himself against the mantle.

"You're in pain," she said, frowning deeply.

"It's just a little burning," he replied with a feeble smile, the faintest edge in his voice.

Astrid could make out the beads of sweat glistening on his brow and upper lip from across the room. The crackling fire illuminated them clearly.

"Hiccup, there's nothing there to burn," she retorted, pointing to his metal appendage.

He let out a dry laugh. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Astrid clicked her tongue. Unlike him, she was prone to impatience. She strode across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. With a sweep of a well-placed boot to the ankle, she kicked his good and steady leg out from underneath him. Looping one arm beneath his, she guided his fall and avoided further injury as he crumpled to the floor.

"Frigg og Eir!" Astrid, he hissed when he landed. "You don't have to kick my leg out from underneath me! I only have just the one!"

She crouched down in front of him, her expression flat. "At least your sense of humor's still intact."

"Are you going to be kicking that out from me next?" he asked, indignant.

She sighed and sat back on her knees. Her face softened when she considered his labored breathing and clenched fists. His mouth was a tight, thin line as he tried to force the pain down where she wouldn't see. But the suffering was plain in his eyes.

"Please, let me help you," she murmured, placing a hand on his knee. "I want to do this. Just...tell me how."

He paused for a beat, then said, "You really don't have to--"

"Hiccup...," and his name was a soft plea on her lips; one he never could resist.

A drop of sweat trickled down from his temple. He stared at her. There was obvious tension in his neck and shoulders. His left leg jutted out stiffly in front of him while he leaned back. It was as if he thought distance from his metal leg my improve things.

He finally relented with a shuddering exhale.

"Okay." He sat up a little straighter and repeated with more conviction, "Okay."

Astrid gently unfastened his prosthetic and set it aside. Not too long ago, he would have never allowed such a thing--to spare her from his indignity, or some such nonsense. But she never cared, and he had come to accept that. A quarter or more of the adults on Berk had some sort of fake extremity: battle scares of a bygone era. Nothing about Hiccup could ever repulse her. After all, she had grown up alongside Snotlout and the twins; and nothing was sacred anymore.

"When was the last time this happened?" she asked as she rolled his pantleg up over his knee.

"Months ago," he replied, teeth clenched. He breathed through the pain, nostrils flaring. "I don't remember. It's been that long."

"What now?" she asked, holding what remained of his lower leg in her hands.

He betrayed himself with a small whimper, then gestured vaguely at the kitchen. "There's a cloth or a rag. Boiled water on the pot on the table. Should just be warm now."

Astrid filled in the blanks, which wasn't difficult. She got up at once to fetch the rag and took it over to the pot of water that had more than likely been boiled for tea, or some other herbal concoction. With caution, she tested the temperature of the water with the knuckle of her pinky finger. Deciding it was no longer scalding, as Hiccup had said, she dunked the rag in. The excess water, she wrung back into the pot.

"Do I lay it on, or do I wrap it?" she asked, returning to where her boyfriend sat on the floor.

"Wrap it," he replied. Then, with a weak grin, he added, "Please."

Astrid nodded and wrapped the warm rag around the stump of his leg with great care, covering as much of the residual calf muscle as possible. She gave his leg the tenderest squeeze.

He let out a groan, head falling back as he supported his weight on his hands.

"No good?" Astrid asked in alarm. "Is it too hot?"

"It hurts, but it's perfect."

She wrinkled her nose. "What?"

"Do...that again," he said, making a kneading motion in the air with his hands.

"Massage?"

"Yes. But it sounds better when you say it."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "You're such a dork. I mean, truly-- the smartest dumbass I've ever known."

He flashed her a genuine smile then laid all the way back on the floor. She settled in a crossed-legged position and massaged the length of his lower leg, up to the knee, over the warm rag.

They stayed in comfortable silence apart from the occasional pop and hiss from the fire. Hiccup, lying down with his eyes closed, and Astrid, tending to the stump in her lap. It was peaceful and uniquely intimate. She'd keep at it all night to take his pain away, if he only asked, but she knew he never would. So, she did what she could for him in that late hour, running her thumbs to the bend of his knee with steady pressure. Followed by long, kneading strokes back down to the end of his limb, where thick ribbons of scar tissue and mangled remnants of flesh all came together, long stitched off. She wondered how much of her touch he could still feel. He had never told her.

She wondered vaguely if her parents were expecting her home. Time was of little consequence whenever they were alone together. The minutes either crawled or flew by; it didn't really matter either way. All Astrid cared about was easing some of the burden he carried. To help, to do something for him, was all she ever wanted.

Hiccup's breathing eventually evened out. His skin was no longer adorned with sweat, and all the tension had left his body. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was asleep.

"Hiccup?" she asked, cutting through silence, and it was almost jarring.

"Hm?" he replied, opening his eyes to meet her gaze.

"Does the pain always feel the same? Like your leg's on fire, I mean."

He thought for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then answered, "Yes. It happens far less often now than it did in the beginning. But the feeling is always the same. Maybe slightly less intense, but I can't recall."

Astrid shook her head. To imagine a sudden and unexpected sensation of one's own flesh burning was horrific.

"Well, that's awful," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Gobber told me this 'phantom pain' happens more often in the first few years. I might get to a point where it doesn't happen anymore. Or it could happen randomly and infrequently for the rest of my life. Who knows."

"I just...hate that it has to be you."

A silence fell over them again, much heavier than the last. He studied her all the while, his eyes appearing impossibly warmer in the firelight.

He sat up slowly. "I'm alright now. You can stop." When she shot him a skeptical look, he insisted, "Honestly, it's passed. These episodes don't last forever."

She sighed and handed him his metal leg, which he took after rolling his pantleg back down. The speed and finesse with which he reattached was always interesting--but what was more remarkable was that he never complained. Not once, that she had ever heard. Yet, he had brought peace to their island, and he saved the people that had chided him for years--but no one else lost limbs in that fight. Just one boy and his dragon, against an ancient monster, risking everything to stop the cycle of fire and death that plagued their people for centuries. The exchange seemed one-sided; that he should still experience echos of pain from that day, was a terrible injustice in her eyes.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asked.

He glanced up, brow furrowed, as if the question itself was confusing.

"The Red Death is gone. The dragons are free. Berk is safer for our people and our dragons. You're safer." He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. With the utmost assuredness, he answered, "No. I don't regret it. Not for a moment."

She closed her eyes and leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

"You're unbelievable, Hiccup Haddock," she said. "Completely unbelievable."

"I thought that's what you love about me."

"Just one of many things," she murmured against his lips, and he smiled.

#hiccstrid #hiccstrid fic #i rewrote this like 3 times #here you go i guess?#*jazz hands*

64 notes · View notes

chiconisroc · 1 year

Text

Was Not the Hero/Not What You Expected Questions Round 4

Was it the palisman or glyph tattoos that caused Philip Curse?

Answer: It's a bit complicated, well, not so much, but I will be bringing it up into the story later. Well, Philip will explain it to someone in phase 3 : )

2. I feel if Philas was canon Philip will become a gay icon and many people with religious trauma or internalized homophobia will adore him.

Answer: I believe so too. I was legit expecting the show to go that route cause we don't really get to see such things before in shows. And it sucks cause there are many people in his situation still stuck in this self destructive hate that is also hurting other innocent peeps and would be nice to show those peeps they don't have to stay in such a dreadful path.

More Questions and Answers:

3. Wait chico don't tell them if you're religious they'll shoot you/joke

Answer: hahaha, idk if i can say i'm religious, but oh well, hahaha

4. What would Philip think of spicy food? If he can taste it?

Answer: If he could ever be able to taste food again, he probably would be so confused and not like it cause he isn't used to such feeling in his mouth burning, hahaha.

5. Have you seen a reverse of mud and feathers by Jess the vampire?

Answer: I have not o.o. I think, Idk, hahaha x.x, not sure what that is. I don't really look at other stuff much since I get fixated with my own writing. Writing thousands of words a week takes a lot of time from me v.v and if i'm not writing i'm like fixated on other random stuff cause gah, my brain. Or I'm just daydreaming constantly on future scenes for my fanfics. Even my ps5 is just collecting dust cause I ignore it, hahaha

6. Does Philip know some Puritan swear words?

Answer: He does, but he rather not swear if he can help it : )

7. Have Philip and Silas rode a horse together?

Answer: Yep, a few times honestly, without anyone noticing

8. I wonder How Luz would react to Philip being bi as her?

Answer: Oh, you will see in phase 3 : )

9. If Silas was a woman would she and Philip tried to conceive a child together?

Answer: For sure

10. How would Canon Philip feel about Silas?

Answer: Very conflicted honestly. He probably would avoid Silas but at the same time make sure Silas doesn't get corrupted by witches

11. Does Philip like cats and does he act like a cat?

Answer: Philip has no opinion on cats. And hahaha, idk, does he act like a cat? o.o

12. In “ Not What you expected” can Belos possess people that would further claim that he just a demon and would make him a major target for the witch Hunter than the actual witch?

Answer: Yah, Belos has the ability to possess people in that storyand would for sure further push the belief to others that he is a demon and would just cause him more problems later

The following questions are ones I cannot answer due to spoilers. Sorry peeps. I can't really answer specific future story stuff v.v

I’m Not what you expected would Philip help the boiling isles in the future and became an actual hero?

In “Not What you Expected”would Philip outlive Caleb and serve to protect his children till the president day to make up for his sins?

In “Not What You Expected” would Philip become a local legend in Gravesfield after centuries past and would Luz become a fan of him and maybe stumble upon the boiling isles?

In “ Not What you expected” would we get a scene paralleling Castlevania particular the Bishop and Blue fang demon inside of the church where the demon tears down the bishop lies about his work and how their work disgust God you can watch this scene on YouTube.

would Silas appear in “Not What you expected”?

”In Not What you expected” would Philip save that woman who is accused of being a witch?

”In Not What you Expected” would Philip try to awkwardly bond with Caleb, like climbing in his bed and trying to snuggle him while Caleb is praying and sweating that he won’t kill him in his sleep or try to do chores around the house but failing cause he drips and stinks.

would Philip and Evelyn become buddies in “ Not What you expected”?

#philip wittebane #the owl house #philip wittebane redemption #philip whittebane #Silas x philip #silas harding #philip x oc #was not the hero #nisroc chico #chiconisroc #philip #belos

17 notes · View notes

7r0773r · 11 months

Text

Phantom Pain Wings by Kim Hyesoon, translated by Don Mee Choi

Bird's Repetition

All the stories bird tells perched on the treetop are about me Nothing about the rumors of my lies, my thefts and such but something ordinary like how I was born and died Bird talks only about me even when I tell it to stop or change the topic It's always the same story like the sound of the high heels of the woman, walking around in the same pair all her life This is why I have a bird that I want to break

Like a poet who buys a ream of A4 paper and crumples the sheets one by one and tosses them I have a bird I want to break When I crumple up my poems that are like the family members inside a mirror in front of me I can hear the stories of fluttering birds "You were born and died" Then I say, You scissormouths and go buy a paper shredder to shred every poetry book of mine But later, when I opened up the shredder a flock of birds was sitting inside, talking about me as if reading line by line Moreover, each bird had a different face and the hens talked about me even while sitting on their eggs They didn't care to fly off Instead, they clustered under the peanut tree and talked about me like peanuts under the ground So, I said to them, enough of telling the same old story of how I was born and died How about something else? For instance, how about the fact that I always wear the same high heels to work and back but when I'm under the same tree at the same park I always dance a waltz And do several movements of embracing the moon But they replied, You were born inside bird Not opposite of that You died inside bird Not opposite of that You were born and died

***

Farewell First

Bird and bird conversed. They conversed on the treetop, on the rooftop with a lightning rod between them. It was freezing that day. Body was inside a toasty-warm room, crying for no apparent reason. Birds' conversation had no body in it. Birds stared at each other like two hands that fell from my body.

Bird begins with farewell first, so what do farewell and farewell talk about when they meet? Bird once started trembling inside my body. Bird may have even fluttered. Bird said, Future doesn't exist since farewell has already begun. Bird and bird pecked on Future and conversed amiably.

The monk who had attained nirvana was always beneath the same tree, and bird always perched on the head of the same monk.

Bird and body said they knew about each other's existence. The day I was so sick, I saw one bird falling from the sky.

Body said that sometimes it can feel bird's visit. Today, bird took my body to the darkest canyon. Body screamed silently, broke into a cold sweat, and flash opened its eyes. Bird left.

On Friday night, traffic came to a halt, so I was stuck in my car on the bridge over the Han River. After the eye surgery, Mommy was alone in bed, her eyes bandaged. Bird flew over to her first and stroked her eyelids.

At that moment, Mommy said she had called out my name.

***

Monster

I have two legs that can make the five thousand migratory birds landing on a reservoir take flight again I have smelly holes that can make all the dogs of our country howl in the middle of the night

On my face, I have two bellows with bleeding landscapes inside them

I have breaths that can burn out like candles exiting the cosmos one door at a time

A pigeon flies into my windshield A big thud yet the pigeon flies off

I unzip the long zipper that runs up my back and pull out the monster It wiggles out My car overflows

I hold on to the steering wheel with my zipper still undone

A child runs out to the main road to catch a red balloon and the child's mommy runs out to catch her child and a white rat as big as a house bolts out of her mouth

and the white rat swells up, blooming translucent and when the rat's gigantic pistil and stamen soar up to the sky and when the rat becomes so huge that it reaches the edges of troposphere, stratosphere the sound of mommy's wails

Earth is like a lone squealing rat

I have a virus that can bury alive a million pigs into one hole in the ground I have ten fingers that can topple a thousand statues of Buddha's disciples into the hole I have

***

Pointed Handwriting

I poured the goldfish into a puddle from the fishbowl I was holding

I looked around to see if I could throw out anything else Throw away my cat? No, I shouldn't throw out any living things from my house

There's a dense forest in the middle of my house When I lift up a piece of cloth each tree gives off the smell of its genitals

The day my child didn't come home, I went into the forest

I went into the music hall to listen to the symphony, but even before the orchestra began playing, a Steinway piano hopped around the stage like a three-legged horse. The wind instruments stuck out their beaks like flamingos; it's pointless to say anything about the cellos. I yelled out, Pull that child out from the frozen puddle! My throat kept screaming and my heart was like a pitch-black forest. The graves inside the forest hit me. They slapped my face. The immense forest with its genitals exposed hit me.

I released a lizard

I released it daily, it slapped me, I paid it tribute The lizard prostrated next to a puddle like a stinky rock I released my beloved friends, teachers, and family Then I didn't look back

Someone asked me, Are you calling farewell a forest? When rain falls like a long, long letter inside my room sad things happen and a forest begins to form, I answered

***

Straitjacket

On my first day of school the smell of my teacher's breath On my wedding day the smell of the officiant's breath The smell from writing that offends women

The same smell as this outfit

I've recorded my perpetual departures but I always return to the inside of my outfit when captured

It's criminal to tie up a tornado It's catastrophic to lock up a liquid that has reached the boiling point

I don't cry even when you label me as a rightist, leftist, modernist, pro-Japanese, and every name of illnesses You can have my nose dribble and phlegm instead

How can you say to the fish that the fish net is its outfit? How can you say to the fish that the fried outfit is its coat? When I'm in this outfit I feel as if I'm inside a radio It feels as if every citizen is paying attention to what I'm saying

I'll apologize since every citizen is waiting for my apology I'll apologize for the rest of my life and from now on everything that comes out of my mouth will be red apples

Why does apple (I) need to apologize to apple (you)? Apple (you) and apple (I) are apologies (for what)?

The outfit with strapped hands and strapped sleeves

A single outfit

The smell of my heart stabbed by my hands automatically poised to pray The smell of the ethnic minority woman's hand, divvying up a freshly caught pig with the group sitting in a circle

In the room light baptizes through a powerful lens But no one can enter the room dressed

Even the birds must take off their feathers The fish must take off their scales Trees, too, naturally In my room everything is nude

When my old leather gloves stretch toward me a whiff of toilet My outfit reeks of sweat

Hit me Hit me The bird has already flown away

What you have hit is just a void wearing an outfit

It's bright inside my outfit!

#book quotes #kim hyesoon

0 notes

blueparadis · 2 years

Text

❝Sleepless nights❞ + Obanai Iguro

+. CWs : afab-reader, she/her pronouns, explicit & non-explicit smut, college au, mature language, camgirl reader, domish reader [domish»sub], service dom Obanai, stepbrother Obanai, stepcest,mention of incest,guided masturbation [m»f]cunnilingus, squirting,use of sex toys :: dildo, overstimulation, oral activities, » implied m-masturbation, aftercare; precis :: Stepbro Obanai wants to watch you from up close, not just through the screen of his laptop. wc ~ 1k

+. NOTES: this is a part of streamers collab hosted by @touyaphoria

+. tags: @underratedcharactercorner @knyplaymatemansion

+. tap here to browse my works !

Rumors travel faster than lies and there's always a weight of truth accompanied by it. At first, Obanai was in disbelief; he couldn't register the fact his roommate is being the talk of the whole college, his beloved sister. Even though he was quite popular in college, you always wondered why he wouldn't pick a candy of his choice rather than complaining about his singlehood to you.

He adores you so much, your shy yet impulsive stares, your handknitted muffler that you gave him on his birthday and now all those things were nothing but a reminder of your other-self. It's like he has never known you since you moved into his apartment.

It was good, light, and simple. He never pried onto your matters but now he wished he did because late at night when he sits with his laptop, sees your exposed skin, muffled moans echoing in his ears— he never had a taste of such enticing burning desires.

And, he could hear your whimpers clearly because you're just next to his room. That was so naïve of you, not to be cautious to give a snake the taste of his prey. His slim arms would often slip into his sweat pants, aiding himself a release.

But he never interrupted you when you were on your stream, never let you know that he is one of your favorite anonymous gift sponsors until he heard you struggle with the new dildo he gifted to you. He really wouldn't have entered your room but he doesn't want you to hurt yourself while playing. He wants to teach you that foreign hands feel good too.

It was like any other day instead you decided not to go live today. Being unable to sleep, you decided to hit the fridge for a quick midnight snack; little did you know that your beloved brother, was frustrated, and starved for days since this was your fifth day of not going for an online stream.

“You’re gonna study more?”, he asked as you drank half the bottle empty before going to bed. “Nah! I'm gonna sleep.”, you correct him but you could tell that he doesn't buy it by the way he scoffed. And in the feat of his tempting sweet chuckle, you asked, "What?" to which he steps in closer, leans in your ear to tell you that it isn't a wise choice to lie to him.

You were clueless, you had no idea that your needy moans and screams were audible in his room, and hence you don't get his enigmatic tone. "Oh C'mon! don't give me that look; You know what I'm talking about?", his eyes scan your facial reclines as you back away a bit but he instantly palms your face making your heart drop.

Before you could do anything, you both already crossed the line: his lips busy sucking yours, hands slowly sliding under your braless loose oversized top while your hand towards his crotch. Everything happened so quickly that it made your head mushy, vision hazy.

"Ahh-ahh", you moan as you feel his cold fingers against your feminity. "See, it's different when - he doesn't get to finish his line since you take his hand out from your soaking feminity and lick it clean like a good girl. His pupils expand in surprise watching such a smart mouth; he could feel his cock twitch in pain as you shut your eyes lapping the tip of your tongue on his thumb. He quickly drags you to your room pressing you against the bed hovering over you. He traces his finger from the tip of your nose to your belly button and pauses, "So?", followed by a husky cackle.

You lick your lips constantly as he takes that newly gifted dildo in his hand while his eyes look for the lube. It's odd, he has rarely been in your room yet knows where to look; It's almost as if he watches through the cracks of the door, visits your room in your absence. He pushes the dildo into your hole and watches your folds clenching it. You grip the bedsheets as he starts to move them to and fro very slowly.

“Fuck, do it faster Iguro”, you hiss tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you feel a lap of his tongue over your bud. “Holy sh— he presses your mouth making you roll your eyes white as he quickens the pace and then he pulls it out. You curl your legs up to your belly turning around, breathing heavily feeling warm fluids leaking through your peachy folds.

“Hey-yh”, his voice reaches your ears and you turn your face towards him, heavy eyelids trying to keep up with the high. Obanai notices your exhaustion and places a cover over your body. He doesn't want you to hate him for losing his senses, acting upon his raw emotions. You sit upright leaning against the wall wanting to ask the obvious question. ‘did he? No! did he send the dildo too?’

You notice his bulge and stare at it being unaware of his eyes glued over you. He snaps his fingers in front of you saying, “if you can take that, you can take mine too”, with a smirk as he walks out of your room rushing towards the bathroom. “You— you don't me to—you try to ask before he finally vanishes out of your sight— to suck me off ?”, he finishes gaining your heavy breaths. “What do you think I did the other days when I heard your daad-dy screams in my room?”, he exclaims as he locks the door of the bathroom.

364 notes · View notes

imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Good Girl, Bad Boy (Pt. 06 of 15)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 2.4 K

Summary: You're the extreme opposite of Billy Hargrove. The good girl, with perfect grades, the child every mother wants to have. And you don't want to have nothing to do with his kind. Ignoring Billy – and his constant, lingering stare – became an habit. But after you're put together for a special school program, you'll have no choice but to get along with him. And soon enough you'll find out that Billy is so much more than just Hawkins' bad boy.

<-Previous part (05)

Next part (07)->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

Change Of Heart

“C'mon, Nancy. Watch the game with me.” Walking against the crowd, you try to convince Nancy to stay. Billy has a basketball game today, and you'll have to wait anyway since he's driving you home, so you decided to watch. And why not having Nancy join you? “You don't have anything to do.”

Rolling her eyes, she finally nods. “Fine, (Y/N).”

Smiling, you run to the court, making your way to the middle of the bleachers. “We have to pick different teams.”

“You'll cheer for Billy, that's pretty obvious.”

“Well, I–” You're cut short by a whistle, and a few seconds later the boys come out of the locker room.

You didn't want to look for too long, just enough for him to know you're here. But something quickly gets your attention. “Oh, boy,” Nancy mutters, elbowing you. “Don't even try to convince me you didn't notice.”

Of course you noticed. How could you not notice he's shirtless. “Shut up, Nancy.” You manage to say, eyes still set on Billy. Once he finds you in the bleachers, he squints his eyes a little, a smirk coming to his lips.

“Alright...” She mumbles, and you finally manage to look away.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” She sing-songs, laughing a little. “I'm just really excited for the day when you'll call me to talk about whatever is going on between you and Billy Hargrove.”

You nervously giggle, feeling heat spreading through your cheeks. Thankfully, the game starts so you have something else to pay attention to. “You know what's going on. We're studying.”

“You're studying.” She puts some emphasis on the ‘s’, making you roll your eyes. “Then explain me the heart eyes.”

“What heart eyes?”

“The heart eyes Billy makes at you. Like, all the time.”

Taking a deep breath, you lightly shake your head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I'll be here when you're ready.”

“Shit, Nancy.” You burst out, eyes set on Billy. He looks at you every now and then, that smug smirk never leaving his face. You really wish you could pick on him after if all his staring was causing him to suck at the game. But Billy is amazing, and he's nailing it, making it look easy. The man doesn't even try, the jerk. “Things are... Complicated.”

“We have time. Spill it out.”

Running a hand through your hair, you sigh. “Billy... Billy said something about wanting to change. And he said he was trying because he found a girl–”

“And the girl is you.” She cuts you off, a hand on your knee, shaking it until you look at her. “Explain it, (Y/N). You've been a mystery since you and Billy started that program. Tell me what's going on because I know something is going on.”

“One day we were talking about relationships. And I told him I do believe he can change if he meets the right girl... And some time after he told me he found that girl and yes, it's me.” You lower your voice, making a pause just to see Billy making an amazing dunk. You can't help but yell, getting a smirk and a wink from him. He's absolutely amazing. “And I... I told him we're completely different but... That we could see how things play out.”

“So help me out here.” She mutters, looking at something behind you. When you give a quick look over your shoulder, you see Stacy and two of her friends coming to the bleachers. “You gave Billy Hargrove a chance.”

“No, I just... I just said we could see what happens. I mean...”

“(Y/N), be honest with me.” Nancy gets your attention again, and you forget the game for a while, turning your body towards her. You've been avoiding talking to her because you didn't want to think about it too much. But now you know you need to. “You're acting like it's nothing but I know you. I know there's something.”

“Nan, I'm really–”

“Hey, (Y/N),” Stacy says, right before settling down next to you.

Raising an eyebrow and exchanging a glance with Nancy, you look at her. “Hi. May I help you with something?”

“Oh, always so good, (Y/N).” She giggles. “But actually yes, you can help me. Stop monopolizing Billy.” Stacy finally looks at you, and she's mad. Angry even. “Ever since he was shoved into this stupid program and paired up with you, he hasn't had time for anything else. No parties, nothing. Not even on weekends.”

Taking a deep breath, you roll your eyes. “Billy can have time off whenever he wants. It's not my fault he doesn't want to go out with you anymore.”

“Honey, Billy goes from a girl to another, but he always comes back to me.” She puts a wicked, mean smirk on. “Because he knows I'm a hell of a good–”

“Shut up, Stacy.” Nancy cuts her off, raising her voice. “If the guy doesn't want to hang out with you anymore, just suck it up.” Your eyes go wide at Nancy's choice of words. She's changed a lot from last year, and now she stands up for herself a lot more, and for you too. “You said it yourself. He goes from one to another, so maybe your time is over.”

“And do you really think he'll pick her over me?” Stacy laughs, a finger on your face, and her two friends laugh as well. They both had Billy, you know it. “Tiny little thing, small tits, the perfect good girl who never lies, never disobey her mommy and daddy. Always have the perfect grades.” Nancy stands up and you do the same, being followed by Stacy and her stupid friends. “You think you're better than us because you never wear anything short, never show too much cleavage, never exposes yourself.”

“I never said–”

“You're a freaking prude.” She pushes your shoulder, taking her hand away as if you were dirty. “A stupid, little puritan who had the audacity of thinking you could hook up a man like Billy.”

Some guys from the team hear it, you can tell by how they hang around longer, eyes on you and the others. Nobody ever spoke to you like that, and you feel... Like your sinking. Cheeks burning and tears starting to pool in your eyes. But you're not stupid. You're not the type of girl who listens to this shit and lowers your head. “If I'm a prude, then you're a slut.” You burst out, crossing your arms. “Sleeping with a different guy every day and acting like you're all that when you're just a stupid–”

“Cow,” Nancy whispers in your ear.

“–cow.” You quickly add, shrugging your shoulders. “But I don't put my nose on your business so don't you put yours on mine.”

“You little bitch.” Stacy pushes you again, a lot harder this time, and you lose your balance, falling two steps down. Your leg gets stuck, and as you finally stop, you feel a sting on your knee. “Oh, I'm so sorry.” You hear her high-pitched voice, full of irony.

“(Y/N)!” Nancy is quick to reach you, helping you get up. “Are you alright?”

The game stopped, and you see through the corner of your eyes as the guys come closer. “I'm fine.” Your knee hurts, but still, you climb the two steps that separate you from Stacy, ignoring the pain on your leg and using all the anger you can gather to help you move, just to slap her right across the face. The hit is so strong it echoes through the gym and your palm burns. “You won't do that again.” You yell, only then letting Nancy pull you down, limping a little.

“(Y/N),” Billy calls, and the moment you turn to look at him, he picks you up, a hand on the small of your back and the other under your legs. “I'll take her to the infirmary.” He tells Nancy, clearly pissed.

“I can walk.” You mutter, glancing at Nancy. She nods and makes a gesture with her thumb and little finger, bringing them to her ear and mouth. But you won't just call her, you need to talk to her face to face.

“Even so.”

Billy is silent on the way to the infirmary, and when he leaves you on the hospital bed they have here, he excuses himself. Then you're left alone with a very curious school nurse. She makes a lot of questions you only give half answers to. But lucky for you, your knee is fine, you'll just need a bag of ice to prevent any swelling. She gives you one and tells you to get another when you get home.

“I'm not going back there, that's final.” You hear Billy talking to someone, and seconds later he comes into the infirmary. “How are you?”

“I'm fine. Just need to put some ice on it.” Billy is weird, keeping a certain distance. “Where did you go?”

“To speak with the Principal. Or else I'm sure you'd get suspended along with that bitch.”

“Thanks.”

“I'll wash the sweat away and drive you home.” And he leaves again.

As you wait, in the empty infirmary, you take the ice off your knee when it starts to burn. What's wrong with Billy? He was normal during the game, and now... A lot of possibilities go through your head. Maybe he realized this is stupid, the idea of you and him. Maybe he decided to go out with Stacy again because she gives him what you don't. But it just doesn't feel like it.

And the weird feeling in your chest gets you by surprise. It feels like a sting, a pressure. You have no idea why Billy acting distant suddenly makes you feel this way. As if you just lost something you don't even know how to get back.

“Let's go.” The voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and when you look at the clock, you see there's still half an hour of the game.

“Won't you get in trouble for leaving the game?”

“Don't worry about it.”

“D-do you think you can carry me?” The question comes out the moment he gestures for you to move. You don't know where it came from, but you just need to be closer to him. What Stacy said is still burning in your head, and part of you silently prays that this isn't the reason why Billy suddenly stepped back. So you just need to break through him, take down this wall he decided to build.

But to your relief, Billy's expression changes at your request. His face gets soft, and he nods before carefully picking you up. “I'm sorry.” He mutters, walking out of the infirmary.

“It wasn't your fault.”

“Of course it was.” He's avoiding your gaze, looking forward. It feels weird to be carried like that, and you wonder if you'll fall. But something tells you Billy wouldn't let go. His grip is firm, and he doesn't seem like he's in a hurry, since his pace is slow. “Stacy thinks she owns me because... Because what she said was true. Part of it, I mean.”

“Which part?” You softly ask, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“That I used to go back to her. In between a girl and another.” Billy's voice is heavy, and he sounds... Angry. At Stacy, maybe, or just at himself. “But it wasn't because she's good at something, it was because she was always easy. All that it took was a call, and everything I had to say was the time and place, and she would be there.”

It didn't go unnoticed that he's talking in the past, and it makes your heart beat a little faster. “And... All the rest?” Billy leaves the halls, reaching the parking lot and heading to his car.

“I don't think you're a prude.” When you get to his car, Billy puts you down and opens the door for you. “And I don't see anything wrong with the way you dress.” He pushes the door close, and your eyes follow him as he walks around the car, taking the driver's seat. “I'd comment on the part she calls you ‘small tits’ but I know you well enough not to, so...”

“Oh, shut up, B.” You giggle, running a hand through your hair.

“Buckle up, pretty girl.” He says, and that's what you do.

But the moment was just... A moment. Billy is back at being weird the entire ride, and he doesn't say anything as he carries you inside, putting you on the couch. You quickly tell your mother what happened, but you made it sound like an accident. There's no reason for her to know the rest. And when she goes upstairs, you call Billy to sit with you. But he doesn't, eyes on the floor as he stands by the coffee table.

“You could've broken your leg, you know that?” He says in a low voice, still not looking at you.

“But I didn't. And I don't understand–”

“That was on me. That was because I gave her reasons to think–”

“B, you can't blame yourself for what someone else does.” Cutting him off, you reach out your hand. “C'mon, I'm alright.”

“No.” Shaking his head, Billy finally looks up at you. “I can't do this. I can't be the reason why you get hurt.” And then, he walks away.

“Billy.” You call, but since doesn't stop, you push yourself up, limping to the door. But by the time you get there, Billy is already in his car. “Billy, don't go!” It comes out as a plead, as you feel a familiar lump in your throat. “Please...” You whisper as he drives away.

You don't know what just happened, you don't know if you did something. But there's one thing that just took you by surprise. An acknowledgment, a terrifying truth you don't want to think about.

You like Billy way more than you thought you did.

And as you push me the door close, leaning against the wall, a tear rolls down. There's a lot of things you don't understand about Billy, but you want to. You thought you were taking some walls down, growing closer to him, but now... Now you just don't know anymore.

@multific @clockworkballerina @tina1938 @graciehams @moatsnow @all-the-stars-on-your-skin @captain039 @rebelemilu @vivian-likes-frogs

#billy hargrove imagine #imagine stranger things #billy hargrove fanfiction #imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy stranger things fanfiction #billy stranger things imagine #billy stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine

227 notes · View notes

bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Pet

summary: you're his perfect weapon pairing: karl heisenberg x fem!reader warning & content: master/slave dynamic if you squint, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected sex, daddy kink, slightly possessive heisenberg? word count: 1.7k

a/n: it just hit me that the other heisenberg fic i'm working on maaay work as a prequel to this one, so if you're interested in reading that, let me know. happy reading! and @theeerealpunkin, this is for you xD

When you wandered into that junkyard, you were nothing but a helpless little girl, orphaned, battered and bruised, weak and on the brink of death. It was honestly a miracle you made it so far, but he took pity in you, took you under his wing, taught you how to survive in such a cruel world, and turned you into a weapon. A lethal weapon. To the other lords, you were Heisenberg's rabid dog, and no one dared to lay a finger on him while you were there to guard him, but to him, you were his favourite pet. Obedient little thing, you would steal for him, kill for him and die for him, should he ask you to do it. But he never did, and never will, because in his heart, whatever was left of it, he cherished you.

The dynamic you two had was... strange, to say the least. He was your master, and you never questioned his authority, but the difference between you and his mindless minions was that you willingly gave yourself to him, mind, body and soul, no brainwashing needed. Still, Heisenberg knew that, should you ever turn against him, you could kill him without breaking a sweat, so he made sure to show how much he appreciated you, rarely ever treating you badly. In fact, he always considered you his equal, despite your personal choice to submit to him. And he didn't mind. By the gods, he didn't mind it one bit. To see such a powerful being as yourself whimper and writhe under him, begging for more, aching to please him, these things only made Heisenberg adore you. And he couldn't deny he was drunk on the fact that he had so much power over you, someone who could literally destroy him. But what could you do? You loved him. You loved to please him. "Crawl to me, pet." He orders, and you comply, kneeling in the doorway, placing your hands on the floor. You were exquisite, down on all fours, dragging your knees across the cold metal, eyes on him, always on him. You crawl under the table, resting your head on his thigh as he pats you head. "Atta girl. Daddy's had a long day, gonna help me feel good?" You eagerly nod, fingers immediately fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He chuckles, watching you struggle with the damned thing, but he won't lift a single finger to help you. Drool pools under your tongue when you feel how hard he is, and you finally undo the blasted buckle, releasing his cock from its confinements.

"Please..." You whisper, head tilted, breath tickling his glistening tip, but you don't dare to taste him unless he tells you to.

"What's that?"

"Can I have it? Please?"

He would love to humiliate you, but the fact of the matter is that he can't wait any longer.

"Have it all." Heisenberg gives you permission and you don't even thank him, tongue already swirling around the tip of his cock. This isn't the first time you do this, but he just can't get enough of you. He's been with other women before, even after he met you, but none of them were you. You hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head with a frantic pace, sloppily sucking and slurping and moaning. "Fuck, that's right, take it all." Heisenberg pushes your head down, depriving you of air. When he removes his hand, you pull away, gasping for air with teary eyes, but as you lean back, he stops you. "I'm feeling generous today. Get on the table."

You don't question his command, but you can't help but feel slightly confused. It's not unusual for him to fuck you, you just weren't expecting him to do it so soon.

"How do you want me, daddy? Bent over?" You purr, stretching your arms on the table.

"No, no, lay on your back."

Nodding, you turn around, tugging at your skirt and letting it fall to the floor as you lift yourself on the table. Heisenberg removes his leather gloves as you patiently wait, and he finally turns to you, jacket and shirt discarded, planting kisses on your inner thigh.

"I'm feeling very generous today." He sneers before dipping his head between your legs, and you want to protest, but you can't, because you never question him. You feel his tongue dragging over your slit, sending chills down your spine. This is definitely a surprise, since he's never given your pussy this kind of attention, but you can't deny how good it feels, the way he's lapping at your cunt like a famished man, his beard tickling your oversensitive skin. You throw your head back, chanting his name over and over again, thighs trembling from the stimulation.

"F-fuck, 's good! Daddy, this feels so good!" You mewl, your juices mixed with his saliva dripping down your ass. In the heat of the moment, you dare to card your fingers through his salt and pepper hair, hips bucking against his mouth. You can feel his grin against your skin, because no matter how much Heisenberg likes to use you for his own pleasure, he adores to see you break from the bliss. And as much you would love to come on his tongue, you need something to fill your aching cunt. "P-please fuck me, I need to feel you, please please please!" You cry out, propping yourself on your elbows to look at him — and, boy, he looks incredible, with your arousal and his spit dripping down his beard, so focused on making you feel good. Heisenberg pulls away giving your pussy a good slap, which makes you jolt up. He takes a step back, taking a good look at you — legs spread, eyes glossy and lidded, tits out of your half-buttoned shirt — a sight for sore eyes.

"I haven't even fingered you yet. Think ya’ earned it?" He tilts his head and you nod like a broken puppet, pushing your hips closer to the edge of the table.

"Yes, yes, please, daddy! Use me, use my cunt!" You mewl, and he digs his fingers into the plush of your hips, turning you around.

"Act like a bitch in heat, get fucked like a bitch in heat." Heisenberg doesn't hesitate to push his cock between your folds after lifting one of your legs on the table. Inch by inch, he bottoms out, and like a good girl, you throw your head back, mouth agape and tongue poking out.

"Just l-like t-that!"

"Shit, you're so tight." He can't help but be astonished that after so much time of using and abusing your cunt, it always feels like it's the first time. It could be because you're not technically a human anymore, or because he's just so fond of you. When he pinches one of your nipples, you automatically lift your ass, bucking against his hips, clenching around his cock and moaning his name. But the pleasure engulfing your entire body makes it difficult for you to prop yourself on your arms, and so you let yourself fall on the wooden table. Fingers gently brush through your locks before Heisenberg yanks you by the hair, pushing his chest against your back to feel you closer.

"Tell me, Y/N, who do you belong to?" He sneers into your ear, breath fanning over your skin.

"You, I belong t-to you!"

"Good. And there's no way in hell anyone else gets to touch you the way I do."

"N-no one, daddy! I'm yours- oh, fuck! Please, let me see you..."

"You wanna look into my eyes when you come on my cock, you little slut?"

"Mhm!" You can barely speak, his thrusts numbing your brain.

Heisenberg doesn't reply, only pulling out to grant you your wish while turning you around. His elbow pushes your leg to the side, despite not needing to, since you're already eager to take him back in. He slips his cock in with so much ease, and you just know you were made for him.

"Better?" He quirks a brow at you, green orbs burning into your soul.

"Yes, t-thank you!" You don't forget to show him just how much you appreciate his kind gesture, your trembling hand cupping his cheek.

The gesture is so tender that he can't help but sigh at the touch. Heisenberg doesn't want to give you the impression that he cares that much, because if he does — if he cares — you'll only become a weakness. And he can't afford to be weak, can't afford to lose you. The man slaps your hand away, gripping your hips so hard your skin begins to bruise, fucking you deeper, harder, pace so brutal the table begins to slide on the metal floor. The pain you're feeling is nothing compared to the pleasure, and so you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your fingernails into his shoulders, earning a hiss out of him. You can feel your orgasm building up, culminating in the sweetest release. He's close, too, you feel it in the way his cock twitches against your spongy walls, so drag your nails over his skin, pulling him closer to you. He smells of oil, liquor and cigarettes, and it's so intoxicating and addictive you come undone.

"F-fuck, I love you! I love you so much!" You melt under him, muscles relaxing. Your confession has him reach his climax, and with a few final thrusts, he spills his seed into your cunt. Not that it would matter since the parasite that turned you into a weapon made both of you infertile. Heisenberg slowly pulls out, careful not to cause you any discomfort. You're still a quivering mess on his workbench, and he hands you a towel, his way of showing that he cares.

"Does it bother you that I don't love you back?" He lies. You tilt your head, scrunching your nose as you wipe yourself clean.

"Hmmm, no, not really. You are my master, after all, and I'm your pet."

Heisenberg doesn't speak, focused on getting dressed. You're his pet, but you make him want to live another day. You make him want to destroy Miranda and break free. You make him smile, and laugh, and you make him feel human again. He turns on his heels, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"That's right, you're my pet."

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg x y/n #karl heisenberg smut #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re village #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #female reader

345 notes · View notes

cryptiql · 3 years

Text

smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

151 notes · View notes

cheesygroove · 3 years

Text

With a roll of the ice

pairing: Wheein x f!reader

c & ws: smut; ice play; sensory deprivation; mentions of alcohol; a lil swearing.

wc: 2k~

requested by anon

Round ice cube molds. You could have just gone for a regular plastic ice tray, the cheaper option at the store. But if it can serve a sexual purpose, why not? The process of moving to a new place with your girlfriend had you overanalyzing the simplest home utensils you needed. It was good to have that kind of freedom to choose.

Wheein just had the simpler intentions for it, though. One night, you came home to find her drinking alone at the still empty living room, lights all turned off. The lighted up fireplace was the sole reason you could see her, sitting with legs crossed and a glass in hand. A bunch of bottles, a second glass and her sketchbook, as well as her drawing materials, were all scattered around the floor.

"Whee, what are you doing...?" you asked while taking your shoes off. "I thought your group photoshoot was tomorrow," you worried about her drinking; better to not have to deal with a headache on the next day.

"I'm just having some coke. The alcohol is for you," she explained. "Can you get the ice for us?"

Not wanting to ruin the mood she set up, you used your phone flashlight to walk to the kitchen. There, you grabbed an ice bucket and emptied the silicone trays inside, shaking it a little to prevent the round cubes from sticking together.

"I would have picked it up before, but I didn't want it to melt before you arrived," Wheein said when you came back and placed the bucket on the floor.

"It's okay, babe," you assured, kissing her cheek tenderly after sitting by the fireplace with her. "Anxious because of work?"

She let out a sigh. You knew her really well.

"Getting better already, actually. It's good to have you here." Wheein smiled at you, stroking your knee with her hand. "I just needed to relax a little. Tomorrow is going to be a full day."

You nodded, reaching for a glass and the bottle of flavored vodka. Being so close to the fireplace, you reconsidered the idea of picking a drink that would burn you up even more. The current warmth was nice and it felt cozy, but it could be too much if you added more heat to it.

"Settling for the coke too? What a saint you've become," Wheein teased. A soft drink could be nice too, you thought, leaving your now full glass on the floor to look at her. She held a round ice cube between her thumb and index finger, rolling it slightly by moving both fingers in opposite directions. Well, now that brought you some thoughts back.

"This kind of... feels good," Wheein said, puppy-like eyes entertained with the water now dripping from her thumb, "it doesn't get sticky when it melts a little. And it rolls."

Right. It rolls. You pictured something like that, back at the store, wondering if it really would have this effect against her skin. Not simply dragging the ice across, but rolling it, gave a different perspective to everything. You bit your lip in excitement, now knowing your fantasy was real.

And well, why not feel this for yourself? One hand went to the bucket, but you needed both to get the ice out — it got stuck together. You appreciated the round shape inside of your mouth, rolling it around with your tongue, feeling your warmth slowly melting it. You sucked on the ice a little bit, stopping when Wheein's eyes met yours.

"You look really sexy doing this," she remarked. A side smirk allowed one of her dimples to show up, which turned into a laugh after you touched your own cheek, feeling the small ball formed by the ice. "So pretty."

You admired Wheein for a moment. Weak shadows danced around her figure, following the movement of the flames; hair recently dyed red held up in a neat bun, leaving her neck fully exposed. Around it she wore a bandeau, neatly positioned so that it didn't cover her Caddo tattoo. You found that detail particularly inviting, and added to the fact that she clearly wasn't wearing a bra...

"Why don't you try this too?" you suggested. The ice had melted already, but the cold sensation it left in your mouth, somehow, had you feeling hotter between your legs. "You'll find the temperature contrast sexier than me."

Wheein's gaze went down to your mouth, filled with desire for your humid lips.

"Can I try it from your source?"

"Please do."

Wheein really did move first. The coolness of your mouth warmed up in hers, as she simply stole that from you by chasing the kiss with all her greed. You felt like the flames from the fireplace itself had engulfed you when her legs wrapped around your waist, pulling you to the floor with her. Although when your lips parted, she was the one craving to cool it down.

"Oh my," she was able to say while gasping for air. Holding you by the back of your neck with both hands, she placed a few more quick presses against your lips before speaking again, "Hmmmm. I liked that it was... unexpected. Your mouth felt so soft from the cold."

You smiled when her fingers delicately caressed your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. Wheein had her eyes on something else while doing it, though. Still holding your weight over her body with your elbows, you looked over your shoulder to discover that she eyed the ice bucket.

"Wanna try that again? With more than a kiss?" you asked, full of a smug satisfaction because the question wasn't even necessary — Wheein's pleading face spoke for itself.

_____

"Love, you really trust me a lot for this, huh," you said while tying the bandeau to the back of her head to use it as a blindfold. Depriving her from the sense of sight was part of your original fantasy, a way to allow her to have a better focus on the hot and cold feeling.

Wheein sat between your spread legs, backing herself into your lap after you moved closer to the fireplace. The orange light of the fire was now able to fully glow on her naked body. The air felt thick and hot when you breathed in, and a little sweat started building up on your back.

"I trust you more than I probably should," she whispered, leaning on your shoulder to place a few kisses along your jawline, "but you always repay it well."

"Right," you agreed, gently undoing Wheein's bun and letting the hair fall on her shoulders, making contact with your bare chest. One hand gave it a gentle tug, while you stretched the other arm to reach for the ice bucket, taking a round ice out. It quickly started wetting your palm, being just perfect for what you wanted to do. You got her hair out of the way with a harsh pull, pressing the ice against her neck. "I always make you feel so good."

Wheein's first reaction was to recoil at the sudden cold feeling, gasping loudly, but you held the ice in place with a strong grip on her neck.

"Shhhh, Wheeinie," you whispered on her ear as her gasping slowly turned into moaning, pleased with you using your palm to roll the ice against her skin, "this is just a massage. We haven't even started yet."

When it melted into a piece too small to be rolled, you simply dragged it across her chest, stopping at an already hardened nipple. The sensation of her skin under your cooled fingers felt softer than usual, the increased sensitivity having you muttering a curse against the back of her neck. Your other hand fetched for more round ice while you still held her boob, squeezing her nipple. Water dripped from your fingers and rolled down her stomach.

"More. Please," Wheein begged impatiently. Her hands were on your thighs, which were reddening from her burying her nails on them every time you did something right. You hoped to see a mark there by the end of the night.

"If you keep hurrying me up, I won't be gentle," you warned, shoving the ice against the boob you had neglected before and holding it strongly. Wheein's scream at the sudden shock ended up in a loud cry, her back arching at you circling the cube around her nipple. "Is that what you want, huh?"

"Uh-huh," she was able to shout out in agreement between her delicious moans, head now dropped backwards onto your shoulder. You moved your body to the side so you could whisper directly at her ear.

"What a slut you are."

Wheein lustfully mumbled a few yes yes yes I am when you stressed that word, like she had done many times before. She gasped in surprise when you stopped rolling the ice on her nipple, and gasped even harder when you took that same nipple in your mouth. Sucking the cold out of it. What was left of that cube you used to roll down her body, leaving behind a trail of water and stopping just before her pussy.

"Did you make a mess on the floor, Wheein...?" you asked.

You had inclined your head forward to look at the space between her legs. With all the action, Wheein had her knees up and under her chin, throbbing cunt fully exposed to the hot air. She was dripping on the floor, so much was the arousal.

"Hmmmmm, no. There's a lot of ice melting here," she lied. You smirked while thinking of how you would punish Wheein for that, one hand drowned in the bucket and getting really cold. The round cubes were now slowly turning into water altogether, coming out already humid — which meant that you didn't need to wait before using it on her.

"I would've been way nicer to you, Whee," you said, "but you don't deserve it."

Ring and middle finger squeezed her labia on each side, making the hole wider for the ice. Her reaction to the intimate contact with the cold immediately showed that she wanted you to put it in, her nails definitely leaving your thigh scratched this time. Instead, you simply stimulated her entrance, rolling and rubbing the round ice against it, even letting just a tip in. Wheein moaned sweetly, whispering your name, almost begging you to fuck her.

You took the ice into your mouth before it fully melted, wanting to taste her liquid even if the water was mixed in. Wheein grunted in annoyance from that, but there wasn't time to take her protests further — the same fingers which squeezed her open before now slid with ease inside of her, producing sweet wet sounds with each pump in. Part of you wanted to grab more ice, to roll it on her skin, to do anything, but you couldn't do much when her moans and then screams of pleasure filled your ears. Your hand was soaked with her climax in almost no time.

"Mmmmhm... Can't believe you didn't..."

You laughed when her words kept trailing off — Wheein was absolutely spent. She tiredly dropped into your arms after her orgasm, trying but failing to sound her complaints. Now any warmth was welcome, yours or from the fireplace, her hands pressing yours against her body to hug her tighter.

"What? You really wanna complain when I left you in this state?" you scoffed while gently removing the bandeau she wore as a blindfold.

Wheein sat up to face you, narrowing her eyes and pouting her mouth. She trembled a bit, still lacking the necessary balance, but kept her posture.

"I... I... Fuck." She gulped and shook her head, recollecting herself. "I just wanted you to roll the ice inside of me!"

ao3 link

#mamamoo fanfic #mamamoo imagines #mamamoo smut #wheein imagines #wheein smut #gg fanfic #rounded ice is the best really #didnt proofread so hope this is fine #wheein x reader #mamamoo x reader

130 notes · View notes

fandoms-x-reader · 3 years

Text

Seth Rollins {1}

Imagine: You get locked out of your hotel room and you are forced to stay the night at Seth's hotel room. (1600)

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead as you reached down into your bag and picked up your water bottle. You took a drink before taking a couple of deep breaths to slow your heartbeat. You sat down on the bench that was in the gym, taking another drink.

"Is this the only thing you do in your free time?" you heard a voice say. You looked up in the direction the voice came from to see your best friend, Seth Rollins standing there. You smiled when you saw him, before replying, "The Raw Woman's Champion has to stay in shape." He chuckled before stating, "There's a difference between staying in shape and never leaving the gym."

"And you're here to what? Just watch?" you asked. He shrugged his shoulders and you smirked before telling him, "Exactly. You're just as addicted to the gym as I am." Seth looked like he was going to say something to defend himself when Sasha Banks entered the room.

"Hey Y/N, you're still on for tonight, right?" she asked you. Sasha was one of your closest friends and your roommate at the hotel. "What's going on tonight?" Seth asked curiously. "We're going out to the bar," you replied. "Really? I didn't think that was your scene," Seth teased. "She didn't have a choice," Sasha stated with a smile. "Who's all going?" you asked, noting the look of amusement on Seth's face.

"You, me, Roman, Jey, Nia, Nattie and...Seth...if he wants to," Sasha said, narrowing her gaze at Seth. "He'll be there," you replied for him. A wide smile spread on Sasha's face as she told you, "Perfect. I'll meet you back at the hotel room."

She gave you a wink before she left and when you turned to face Seth, he was looking at you with a raised eyebrow, asking for an explanation. "If I'm being forced to go out, I'm dragging you down with me. Then I won't be suffering alone," you explained. "How kind of you," Seth joked. You chuckled before giving him a face you knew that he would never say no to. "Please come tonight?" you asked him.

Seth let out a small sigh before nodding his head and saying, "Fine, just for you." You smiled and replied, "Thanks. I'll text you the address." You then grabbed your gym bag and went back to the hotel room. Sasha was already getting ready when you got there. You pulled out the clothes you were going to wear that night and hopped in the shower.

When you were done, you pulled on your outfit before working on your make-up and hair. You were adding the finishing touches to your look when Sasha came into the bathroom. "Damn, girl, you look like you're gonna 'burn it down' tonight," Sasha teased.

You shot her a warning glare but didn't say anything else. She laughed to herself before saying, "Seriously though, what's going to happen tonight with you and Seth?" You shrugged your shoulders before stating, "Nothing. We're just friends Sasha, just two friends getting drinks with more of their friends."

Sasha scoffed before asking, "So you're saying that you don't have feelings for Seth? Because you know as well as I do that it would be a lie." "No, I'm saying that he doesn't have feelings for me," you shot back. "Well, I guess we'll see about that tonight. Ready to go?" she questioned.

You nodded your head before saying, "Let me just grab the key to the room." "Don't worry about it, I have mine," she responded. "Okay," you replied, getting your purse and following Sasha. When the two of you arrived, the rest of the group was already sitting at a table, including Seth who smiled brightly when he saw you.

"Well he's happy to see you," Sasha said softly. You playfully pushed her as the two of you made your way to the table. "Hey," you greeted the table, taking the seat next to Seth. "For a few minutes there, I thought you were gonna ditch me," Seth said in your ear so the others wouldn't hear, the proximity sending shivers down your spine. You covered it by telling him, "I wouldn't do that to you."

The seven of you did shots as you talked about random stuff, making each other laugh. A few drinks later, you and Seth were just nursing yours. Neither of you wanted to get too drunk but you both were tipsy.

"Oh my god, I love this song!" Sasha exclaimed. "Come on, let's dance!" she continued, pulling Nattie to her feet. The rest of the group followed to the dance floor except for you and Seth. "You're not gonna go dance?" he asked. "I'm not much of a dancer. What about you?" you questioned. He shook his head no before replying, "I was actually thinking about going back to the hotel."

You finished the rest of your drink, before telling him, "I'll join you." He smiled as the two of you got your stuff together. He offered his arm out to you and you gladly hooked yours in his. Luckily, the hotel wasn't too far away, so the two of you decided to walk, talking about random stuff and memories that the two of you shared the whole way.

Seth walked you to your door and you leaned up against it before saying, "Thanks for coming tonight." Seth smiled before replying, "Of course, it was fun." The two of you stood there in awkward silence for a moment, and you took in everything about Seth. His smell, the glimmer in his eyes, the way his muscles moved under his clothes...you wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him. You quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, tearing your eyes away from his, refusing to let the alcohol embarrass you.

"Alright, well I'll see you tomorrow," you told him. He looked disappointed but quickly put on a smile. He gave you a polite smile before beginning to walk away. You began looking through your purse when realization dawned on you. "Crap!" Seth heard you say, stopping him in his tracks as he turned to face you.

"What's wrong?" he asked, taking a few steps closer to you. "Sasha has the key, mine is in the room," you replied. Seth tried to hide a laugh as he told you, "You can hang out in my room until she gets back." "Are you sure? I don't want to bother you," you told him.

"You never bother me, come on," he replied, leading you to his hotel room. When you were inside, you took your shoes off, sitting on the bed. Seth took off his shirt, grabbing a more comfortable one. You got mesmerized by his upper body, lost in all the different creases of his body.

"You okay?" Seth asked, a confident smirk on his face. You realized that he caught you staring and a deep blush coated your cheeks as you looked towards the ground. "Yeah, sorry, I'm just a little tired is all," you lied. 'Under no circumstances can you tell him about your feelings' you reminded yourself.

Seth sat down on the bed next to you and said, "You look really beautiful tonight." You pushed the blush away as best you could before making eye contact with him and replying, "Thank you, you look sexy." The words left your mouth before you could stop them, and that was the moment you swore off alcohol for the rest of your life.

Seth looked taken aback and you tried to salvage the situation. "I mean...uhhh...," you began, trying to say something, but your mind blanked out. Seth saved the moment by letting out a small chuckle and saying, "Thank you."

There it was again - another moment of silence where the two of you were just sitting there, staring into each other's eyes. Your felt your heart began to speed up and you swore you saw Seth move in a bit, but you again looked away. "I should call Sasha," you stated, standing up and pulling your phone out. Seth looked super frustrated as you dialed her number. You moved towards the hotel room door and faced your back towards Seth.

You let out a deep breath as you reached Sasha's voicemail. "No answer," you muttered to yourself. When you turned around, Seth was standing right behind you. "Seth, what are you-" you began to ask, but he cut you off by crashing his lips to yours, pushing you against the door.

You kissed back immediately, letting him slip his tongue in your mouth, deepening the kiss. You quickly came to your senses and pulled back a bit, looking into Seth's eyes. What did this mean? As if hearing the question you asked yourself, Seth said, "I love you Y/N, as more than my best friend. And I know you love me too. I'm tired of dancing around our feelings."

You could tell he was frustrated and you felt a little bad. You were more than happy to hear that he felt the same way about you, but you felt guilty about not making a move sooner. He was avoiding eye contact with you now, unsure of how you would react.

You gently placed your hand on his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, before bringing him into a soft but passionate kiss. That was all the validation he needed as he deepened the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist, bringing you to the bed, and laying you down before crawling over you.

"Is this okay?" he asked, looking deep into your eyes. You nodded your head before telling him, "This is more than okay." Seth smiled before connecting his lips to yours again. For the rest of the night, he expressed all of the emotions that he had been holding in for so long and you enjoyed every moment of it.

#wwe #wwe network #wwe superstars #seth rollins #seth rollins imagine #seth rollins x reader #wwe imagine #seth rollins one shot

111 notes · View notes

postcardsfromsilenthill · 2 years

Text

"-"

"... I think I quit." Sawyer takes a shuddering breath, to calm her nerves. In that instant she realizes how often she feels like she's holding her breath when they're together. How often she feels a little afraid to be honest. "I'm done."

She begins to protest and Sawyer cuts her off. "You don't get to decide anymore. I let you do this. I let you make the choices. I always tried to let you decide. You're smarter, I'm clumsy. It just made sense. But I don't have to want what you want anymore. I don't have to have the goals you want. I don't have to 'make something of myself' like you want me to."

Sawyer's chest was burning. It was so hard not to scream, not to be angry. But she refused. That's not how this was going to happen. Sawyer got to pick how it went this time.

"I listened to so many lies. I let so many things fly. Things I wouldn't tolerate from anyone else. And I think that makes this my fault a little. On some level I think I always knew that. Maybe if I treated you like I would any other bully, it would have done something. I was selfish. I was selfish to want you in my life and it's my own fault for carving parts of myself up to keep you. " and Sawyer pulls the ties from her hair. It doesn't fall elegantly, but Sawyer never wanted that. She never wanted elegance. She loved the messy parts of herself and she hates that she thought denying that would ever be a good thing. She peels off the beaded bracelet, orange and yellow plastic, that She had helped Sawyer make. And she balls them up and puts them in Her hand.

"I'm sorry. I quit. You were my best friend. I love you. And I hate you too. You helped me more than I can ever say. You broke me more than I ever thought I could be. Your life is yours. You don't have to keep it. It's been a ride. I love you. Goodbye."

Sawyer turns and walks away with purpose. She picks up the pace though, with every step. Faster and faster until she's sprinting. She laughs and she cries and she hurts so so much but this was right, this was better. She keeps sprinting, ignoring the burn in her lungs and in her muscles. Her hair streams behind her in a way it hasn't in years, since she was a child. It was getting long anyway. Maybe she could get Nal to help her cut it off. She was dizzy with the adrenaline. She refused to turn to see if any attempt was made to catch up. She wouldn't go home tonight, just in case. She was everywhere in that house, haunting it like a ghost even though she was back. She would just keep running.

And she did until she couldn't anymore. She bent double, coughing for breath, throat and laughs searing. It hurt but it felt beautiful. Her feet were numb and her limbs felt like lead. When she could breathe again, she wiped the sweat from her eyes, spit the soaked hair out of her mouth. She reached in her backpack and pulled out her phone. Not the one filled with pictures of them, talks of futures they'd never have, movies they'd seen and never would see together, homework assignments finished and unfinished. The discreet little burner, new, with only two numbers in it. And she calls Nal.

#my wips #Idk #Trying to write more.#And my ttrpg ocs live in my head rent free so.#Have some potential Sawyer content.#Rhythmics I see you looking.#Nothing I write here is Canon.#Just plot bunnies.#Sawyer #What even is formatting?#Didn't feel like writing by hand today.

3 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 3 years

Text

Together we can get through anything

Summary:

Mobius has just stolen the Tempad from Ravonna and discovers the truth about the TVA. He goes to visit Loki's Timecell ready to do anything to be forgiven.

___________

I keep trying to explore Lokius throughout the episodes. And if many people seem to be desperate after the last episode, I am not, so let me give you the content you deserve. My faith in Lokius has not moved an inch. And Marvel won't change that. They deserve each other. They deserve to be happy together. And here they will be.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32288020

2637 words - Rating G

Part 9 of The Story of Loki and Mobius

Mobius had to act quickly before Ravonna realized he had switched their Tempad.

He went to hide between two shelves in the archives, pretending to look for files, and turned on the Tempad

He quickly found what he was looking for, the debriefing of the C-20 mission. He pressed play.

When the screen opened to show C-20 talking, it only took Mobius a few seconds to see that she wasn't crazy like Ravonna had claimed.

"You're not hearing me. I was there. This was real, what I saw. This is a place that I've been."

Mobius looked over his shoulder quickly and returned to the video.

"This wasn't the TVA. This was a memory. I lived down there. I went to that bar. I had friends. I had a whole life on the Sacred Timeline."

Mobius didn't want to believe it, but in the face of all that was being revealed to him, how could he not?

On the video, the interrogator told C-20 to calm down.

She retorted forcefully, "Calm down? I'm a Variant. So are you. So is every single person in this place."

"I'm ending this," it was the voice of Ravonna whose face then appeared on the screen and then staring at it, she turned it off.

It was all a lie. All variants. All stolen lives.

Among the thoughts that swirled in his head, one began to emerge, a single name.

Loki.

Loki had been right. Loki had not lied to him. Or hardly ever. Not where it mattered.

Suddenly, mixed with the elation he felt, came a sense of shame. He had gained Loki's fragile trust and at the first hurdle he had reacted like all the others who had not believed in Loki before him. Just because he was jealous. Because he had seen the complicity between Loki and the Variant, Sylvie.

For the first time in his work, his feelings had been stronger than his reason, and the way Loki had lashed out to defend her had deeply upset Mobius.

He had been cruel. Even if she really had been Loki's girlfriend, it was cruel to make him believe that she was dead. Even for the purpose of gaining information.

He had seen Loki in the Time Cell admit that he deserved to be alone, while Mobius had done everything to convince him otherwise before their disastrous parting in the supermarket.

And what had Mobius told him in the end?

"Wherever you go, it's just death, destruction, the literal ends of worlds. Well, I'm gonna have to close this case now, 'cause I don't need you anymore. Yeah, or as you might say, our interests are no longer aligned."

Loki had looked so hurt at that moment, and had said to him as the guards were taking him away, "You know, of all the liars in this place, and there are a great many, you're the biggest."

Mobius had asked him, sneering, "Why? Cause I lied about your girlfriend?"

Loki had just replied, seriously, "Oh, no. That I can respect. I mean, the lies you tell yourself."

He hadn't looked back once this time before walking through the door of the Time Cell.

As he made his way to a safe place to open a Timedoor to the Time Cell, he figured he would have a lot to make up for this time.

As he walked through the door, he found himself facing Loki who looked agitated.

He immediately asked him. "What are you doing?"

"Passing the time." Loki answered ironically.

Because Mobius couldn't help it, because the memory of the jealousy he had experienced was too strong, he asked without transition, "Do you care about this variant?"

Loki answered him directly, rushing the words as usual, "Sylvie? I'm not sure if caring is the right word. We've covered this back in there."

Mobius interrupted him by shouting, "Shut up!" he paused to calm himself, he was not there to blame Loki, he asked sincerely, "Do you really think you deserve to be alone?"

Seeing that Loki didn't answer, he called out, "Loki!"

The cheeky bastard replied, "You told me to shut up." Since when did he do what Mobius told him? Mobius repeated his question, "Do you believe you deserve to be alone?"

Loki, annoyed, replied, "I don't know."

"You better figure it out quick, because the nexus event the two of you caused, whatever that connection is, can bring this whole place down. So we better understand…"

"We"?

Mobius' heart sank at the way Loki said " we ". Because Mobius had made any possibility of a we vanish by withdrawing his trust from Loki. Loki's disbelief this time was entirely his own fault.

He asked Loki urgently, "Do you swear she didn't implant those memories in Hunter C-20?"

Loki didn't hesitate a moment before answering, "Mobius, no. I believe her!"

"So, I just have to trust the word of two Lokis?" Mobius answered rhetorically because the trust he had in Loki had risen from the ashes and even if he doubted the variant, he now knew that his trust in Loki was total.

"How about the word of a friend?"

Mobius gasped at the words he didn't expect in Loki's mouth.

Then he exhaled softly. Loki called himself his friend. Mobius still had the right to be his friend. Their bond was not broken.

So even if Loki's friendship it was the only thing he would get. If that was the only thing Loki would offer him, then he would accept it. He would cherish it, he would fight for it. He would be the loyal friend that Loki deserved.

He continued urgently, wanting to prove to Loki that his trust was real, "You were right, about the TVA. You were right from the beginning. And if you wanna save her, you need to trust me. Can we do that?"

He needed to hear Loki say it, to confirm that the trust between them was back, maybe not like before, but that it was there.

"Yes."

Once again a straightforward answer, without embellishment. A simple yes that said everything, that told the truth.

Mobius sighed with relief, "Okay."

He couldn't dwell on everything he'd said before, on all his false assertions dictated by ugly jealousy, disappointment and feelings of betrayal.

That's why he added, in an insistent tone, wanting to convince Loki with all his heart, "You could be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good."

Loki looked at him, his eyes full of emotion, the same look he had had when Mobius had told him that he did not consider him a villain. The dawning hope of someone who didn't dare to believe it. Then Mobius continued to convince Loki at all costs, smiling sheepishly, "I mean, just in case anyone ever told you different."

Loki's smile, a smile that Mobius had never seen on his face before, was the best reward he could have received. A sense of mutual absolution, a feeling of shared respect, and perhaps something more that Mobius refused to name because he felt he had no right to.

He was walking towards the Timedoor when he felt himself being pulled back by Loki who had grabbed his sleeve.

"Mobius, wait!"

He turned back to Loki who was still holding him by the sleeve.

"What? Is there something wrong?"

Loki exclaimed, "Is there something wrong? Is there something wrong?!" he ran his hand through his hair with frustration, "I'm not the one who was just told that his whole life, what he was fighting for, the world he lived in, was a lie! Believe me I know what that feels like! So it's me asking you, how are YOU Mobius?"

At that moment Mobius became aware of the extent of what he had just discovered, of what it meant for him.He put his hand to his chest, his breathing quickened and a cold sweat ran down his body.

He heard Loki's voice as if in the distance and felt vaguely that the man was helping him to sit on the ground with his head between his legs.

Little by little, encouraged by Loki, he found regular breathing.

Loki put his hand on his arm, gently, as if not to frighten him.

"Mobius, I need to know, first if you can you close the timedoor and then, how time is passing here?"

Mobius closed the door and replied, "In this cell, it's like time doesn't flow outside, so no matter how long we spend here, it will take Ravonna and the Hunters a little while to find us."

"Good."

After a few moments of silence, Mobius spoke up, "You know what torments me the most now that I know? I wonder if I am real. Is what I've experienced real? And was what I believe or have believed in, real for a moment?"

Loki answered him softly, "You are real, just as I am real." seeing the distress in which Mobius found himself, he continued, "And if you don't believe me, I will show you what is real to me if you will let me." He just put two fingers on Mobius' temple without pressing, waiting for his answer. Mobius nodded.

A small green light connected Loki's fingers with Mobius' head.

Mobius saw sequences in his head racing by, as if he were moving from one room to another at full speed.

Mobius held out his hand to help Loki up.

Mobius remembered that moment of course, but the emotions were not his own, it was as if he was in Loki's head.

This time Loki didn't hesitate to take it. Once on his feet, he didn't want to let go of that hand, the only non-violent human contact he'd had in years. He didn't even realize that he was tightening his fingers on Mobius'.

He asked the question that had been burning in his mind, "If I'm not the villain, then what am I?"

They still hadn't let go of each other's hands and now Mobius' thumb was gently stroking the back of Loki's hand.

Mobius tilted his head a little, seeking Loki's gaze even more.

He said with that smile that Loki was beginning to appreciate, "I don't know, but we could search together, if you want."

Loki nodded slowly and answered with a slight smile.

Next scene.

"Oh once again, shut up!"

Loki replied with a mocking smile on his lips, "Make me."

It was as if a dam broke in Mobius.

He grabbed Loki's tie to pull him to him and before the god had time to wonder what he was doing, Mobius leaned in and placed his lips against Loki's.

Their first kiss in the elevator…

Next scene.

Mobius spoke with difficulty, still out of breath, "Later," he said, "We'll continue this later, I promise. We'll have to talk. But we really don't have time right now."

Loki nodded, and placed one last kiss on Mobius' lips before they parted, their reluctance more than obvious.

Seeing the uncertainty return to Loki's gaze, Mobius took his chin and said firmly with his eyes in his head, "Loki, I'm serious, we really will continue later. I swear I'm not playing, okay?"

Loki scrutinized him for a few seconds before nodding again and answering with that familiar mischievous grin, « Ok, let's go catch whoever thinks they are me."

Then he pushed Mobius forward and they went on their way.

Their second kiss... in the archive room.

Next scene.

Loki nodded but said nothing. He gently withdrew his hand and put his collar back on. Seeing that he was reluctant to speak, Mobius turned fully toward him and pulled him by the sleeve until he was standing between Mobius' knees.

Mobius remembered, it was the day when Loki had taken care of him, had given him the illusion of being on a jetski and then in return Mobius had shown Loki what he would want on a first date.

Looking at Loki from below, Mobius asked gently, "Loki, speak to me."

Loki replied just as softly, "Is this the kind of thing you like, the kind of thing you'd like to do...with me?"

"We could start with that after this whole thing is over, what do you say? Ah unless there's a rule that says gods don't date?" asked Mobius, raising an eyebrow.

Spreading his arms, a mischievous smile on his face, Loki said with his trademark emphasis, "Hey, I'm Loki, the god of mischief, since when do I follow rules?

Quickly checking behind his shoulder that no one was there, Mobius pulled Loki's head to his own with a gentle tug on his tie and proceeded to wipe the arrogant smile from Loki's lips in the only way he knew to be effective.

Next scene.

"Oh no Loki, I never wanted you to think you were a villain, I wanted you to see that you were not the one you insist on parading to the world."

Loki protested, "But you told me I was born to cause pain and suffering and death. That's how it is, that's how it was, that's how it will be. All so that others can achieve their best versions of themselves. "

"Yes, I told you that not because I think that's what you are, I was just showing you that that's what you were limiting yourself to because you yourself think you're only capable of that. Because you want to rule so badly, that you don't see that you are made for bigger things. You asked me to trust you yesterday. I did it because Loki I have faith in you and since you've been here you keep proving it. In your own way. Because you are undoubtedly the god of mischief. Unique. Not. A. Villain."

Mobius took his chin and placed a kiss on his forehead before standing up.

Their last moment together before the Alabama mission.

Loki gently removed his fingers from Mobius' head.

"Mobius, to me this was all real, everything we said to each other, everything that happened between us. It was probably the most real I've experienced in a long time."

Loki took her head in his hands and kissed her forehead, then whispered, "You. Are. Real. Mobius." then he kissed him gently, almost chastely before pulling back a little while still holding Mobius' head in his hands.

Mobius looked amazed and asked him a little hesitantly, "After everything that's happened, you would be willing to give me another chance?"

"Huh?" asked Loki, looking surprised, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that at the first opportunity, I preferred to believe the worst rather than you, I let you down cowardly, blinded by the feeling betrayal and jealousy while I was the one who betrayed your trust "

Loki shook his head fondly.

"Oh Mobius, believe me I am a master of betrayal, low blow and jealousy. I never expected you to be perfect. After all, I tried to betray you at the first opportunity too. There are so many other parameters that we didn't know and still don't know. It's not about giving you another chance, it's about giving us another chance. So let's not waste it and let's make it something beautiful and good."

Loki stood up, and this time it was he who reached out to Mobius and helped him to his feet.

In an echo of a few days ago, it was he who gently stroked the back of Mobius' hand that he had kept in his own.

Mobius looked deeply into Loki's eyes again and asked him with a slightly hoarse voice, "If this is all fake, then who am I really?"

Loki replied with a smile, "We'll search together."

"Yes, yes, that I can do. " answered Mobius with a tightened throat.

Then he could not resist the impulse, the desire that was deep inside him since they had caught Loki and Sylvie.

He hugged Loki, the face in his hair, and, happy to find familiar sensations, he whispered into Loki's neck, "I'm so glad you're back safe and sound. You can't even imagine how much I missed you."

Loki tightened his arms around him and they stayed like that for a few seconds before pulling apart.

Mobius, opened a Timedoor and looked at Loki who nodded.

They crossed the door side by side, together, for all time, always.

______

🌈 Happy (last day) of Pride month ! 🌈 (Be pride every day!)

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story. Phew done !

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love! I hope you had enough !

#lokius fic #loki #mobius m mobius #lokius #moki #wowki #loki x mobius #timefrost #time husbands #lokius rights #developing relationship #episode related #episode 4 : the nexus #forgiving Loki #Lokt Mobius

44 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

❛ A FIRST DATE ❜

with Johnny ‘Coco’ Cruz.

Request: Can I request a fluffy Coco imagine?? From his POV about their 1st date and his thoughts abt her and stuff? I really want some coco fluff lol. ❤❤🔥

BY ANON

Word count: about 1.7k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“Brother, just be yourself”.

Angel thinks that Coco is giving it more importance than it really has, after trying different outfits, without finding the perfect one. He doesn't have many clothes, because he doesn't really need it. But now, he's really pissed off.

“If I act like usually, she'll kick ma' ass in fucking seconds”. He grumbles sitting over his bed, rubbing his face with both hands.

You two met at the hospital some week ago, when he suffered some kind of accident that left him blind in one eye, for some time. He felt his heart pumping because of love for the first time, when he saw you after cleaning his healthy eye. And before that, he was already truly fascinated by the way you had to calm him down using your voice. A sweet and honeyed tone that he could be listening to his whole life. He couldn't help but think how good falling asleep every night hearing you talking would be. It took him almost two weeks to ask you out, but he couldn't feel more happy when you said yes without letting him finish the question. Coco felt strange when he left the hospital after it, experimenting a bunch of sensations stuck in his chest that made him feel better than ever.

Now, his insecurities are coming into the light. Everything he touches ends up destroyed, broken. You are too pure for his shit. You don't deserve to take that risk. Taking off his phone from his pocket, he searches for your number. Gilly and Angel are looking at him intrigued, until they find out what he's going to do. The big one takes the phone off from his hands, while the oldest Reyes holds him to guide him towards the door.

“You're not gonna flake on her, pendejo”. He grunts, pushing him outside his house.

His brothers follow him to the meeting place, watching you sit on a bench waiting for him, after twenty minutes standing up and walking around the big fountain. You look beautiful, dressed with a pair of shorts, a baggy white shirt with the sleeves rolled up on your shoulders and black sneakers. He turns around, trying to run away from your life again, facing his friends.

“I can't”. He just says, with his hands almost sweating. “She's too much for me”.

“She's perfect for you, man!” Gilly rolls his eyes.

“C'mon, Coco, don' be a chicken and get the girl”.

Licking his bottom lip, he just nods in silence, trying to find the perfect words to encourage himself. Turning over his Vans, he starts his way towards you, doubting for some seconds. And he's about to leave when you raise your eyes from your phone. The smile you draw with the corner of your lips gives him a heart attack, knowing that he could die full of happiness right now.

“Hey, I thought you weren't coming”.

Maybe it wasn't the greeting he was expecting and he feels so sorry for having made you wait. Stroking the back of his head, he forces a grin.

“Yeah… I was… 'bout to not comen'”.

Your gesture turning from enthusiasm to disheartening, causes him some bitter shivers inside his chest. He has already fuck up the good vibes between you two, that borned in the hospital. Seeing you nod in silence, shrugging your shoulders, makes him feel out of air; trying to think something to fix it up.

“I really… appreciate that, at least, you came to tell me that this isn't going to happen… It would be… humiliating”. You whisper putting your gaze away from him.

Coco can see the way your lips are trembling, as if you were about to cry, and it's painful. For him, it's painful.

“No, mami, lis—”.

“It's okay, Johnny, you don't have to excuse yourself”. Waving a hand on air, you try to make it easy for him. “I get it”.

He's missing the boat, watching you turning around and focusing your attention on the screen of your phone again. Maybe typing to some friend to pick you up, maybe about to call anyone else. But finally, the orders from his brain move his body to stop you.

“No, wait!” He says somewhat loud, grabbing your left wrist. “I wanna date you. I wanna have a lot of dates with you. This ain't you, mami, but me”.

Looking at his hand confused, you travel his arm until finding his dark and desperate eyes, talking to you in silence. Begging you to listen.

“My life is a shit. A mess... A chaos. I… had this accident with my eye because… of a dogfight with another gang. I didn' wanna lie to you, you know? I think you're smart, and pretty and… you don' deserve a guy like me who is… always in fuckin' trouble and that… used to ride a bike that probably would never ride again, just… with a shitty work on a scrapyard”. Coco is getting more and more nervous because you're not saying a single word back. He gulps with some difficulty, taking a step closer to you. “I ain't a good man, I don' do good things, but… I really wanna date you, mami. I've never been so true in ma' life”.

And he's about to give up with a crappy sensation running his body, when you tangle your finger with the ones that were gripping your arm.

“Maybe you can teach me to drive a bike, so I can ride for you”. You just say, hoping that it's enough for him.

“That sounds good, ma'”. He replies with no hesitation, feeling like for the first time he's having a good opportunity in his life.

Watching you smile again it's like seeing a rainbow after a destructive storm, putting his arm over your shoulders to start a low walk.

“Do you like pizza?” You ask then, raising your head toward his.

“Yeah, 'course”. He answers with an incredulous gesture on his face.

“Okay, do you know a food truck close to the hospital, with red and blues stripes?”

“No”.

“Seriously?” You almost scream, breaking into laughs. “You like pizza and you have never tried it before?”

Coco shakes his head, falling in love a little more after hearing your laughter. That simple gesture has made him feel more happy than ever before.

“You're gonna really, really love it”. You say with emotion, moving a hand on air to highlight your words.

“I'm sure”. He chuckles nodding. “You look pretty convinced”.

And you weren't wrong. Maybe not everybody would think that sitting on an edge of a sidewalk, eating pizza, it's the perfect date. But for him, it's the perfect one. He can ask for anything else that hearing you talk for hours about your hobbies, about what you would like to be in five years, about the things the two of you have in common. And he has never talked this much, either. But it's too easy for him to follow the conversation and flow it into another one, until the night falls over the town.

Coco insists on walking with you back to your home, just to be sure that you come safe. And even if he has had so much fun, he's doubting if you would like to repeat it. Maybe at the end you were just trying to be kind with him, because he seemed so desperate for being with you for a couple hours, to not make him feel bad. And maybe that was the reason why you didn't want him to take you home. But the real reason is that your housemates are waiting on the porch for you to tell them how it was. As soon as they see you coming closer, they run into the house ashamed and laughing, making your cheeks burn when Coco notices what is going on.

“Sorry, they're like children…” You say hastily, stopping your steps and placing yourself in front of him.

“It's okay, ma'. My… friends are waiting too”.

Between the two of you gets installed an uncomfortable silence for some seconds, until he sees you holding your bag, looking for something inside it. He breaks into loud laughs when his healthy eyes focus on the heart shaped lollipop, that you're offering him.

“I heard you the day you visited the hospital, so… there's your reward for being a good boy”.

Coco takes it, shaking his head and showing you a funny smile, before catching you between his arms. Embracing you tightly, he places a kiss on your cheek. A lovely one. Pulling himself away, he opens the candy to tuck it into his mouth.

“The best one”. He says tasting the strawberry flavor of it.

“Okay, ah… I have three kids to take care of”. You joke about your friends, pointing at your house for a second. “I had so much fun today…”

“Yeah, me too… We can repe—”.

“I'm free tomorrow”.

Hearing you interrupt him, after realizing that he wants to have another date with you. Taking off the lollipop from his mouth, he leans forward to press your lips with his, shortening the distance between both. Feeling your fingers getting tangled in his shirt give him some pleasant chills, ending up pecking your lips gently.

“What about breakfast? I know a place with the best pancakes”. He proposes then, giving you an eskimo kiss.

“I like it”. You nod, kissing his lips a last time.

“Pick you up at ten?”

“Pick me up at ten”.

“Have a good night, mami”.

“You too, pirate”. Puckering your lips, he laughs again. “Enjoy it, you're gonna see again in a couple months”.

He frowns a little confused, drawing slowly a huge smile on his lips.

“Spoiler of your next doctor appointment”.

“Is tha' why you told me tha' I could teach you?”

Walking backwards to your house, he sees you happily nodding.

“'Am gonna marry you one day, you know'et?”

These words may have been somewhat precipitate, or at least that's what he's thinking until seeing you nod again.

“I hope it”.

“Shit”, he thinks to himself, licking again the lollipop; not leaving your hood until you're inside your house.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #johnny coco cruz x reader #johnny coco cruz imagine #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz

200 notes · View notes

robert-de-niro-only-fans · 4 years

Text

Imagine dating Louis Cyphre and not knowing he's the Devil.

Each time you see you see your lovely boyfriend, you can't help but feel so lucky to have found such a charming man to spend your time with

When you first met, you felt there was something cold about him, but he had a very particular kind of charisma that drew you in

Even the simplest of moments are intimate with Louis: cooking dinner while with his arms wrapped around your waist, laying your head on his chest while he reads to you, him bringing you your favorite snacks and insisting on feeding them to you, and of course lying in bed cuddling

He is always there when you need him; he uplifts you when you're in a bad mood and he loves to take care of you if you're feeling under the weather

You can't help but wonder what you did to deserve the most perfect boyfriend... Sure he has some quirks but he doesn't mean any harm

Eventually though, those things you wrote off as quirks turn into much bigger problems

He sometimes leaves really suddenly without even telling you or without you hearing the door close, it's like he disappears or something; he is always really warm to the touch but will not let you take his temperature; whenever he spends the night, you have intense nightmares, which he will wake you up from, but still; and the way he speaks: he just uses vocabulary that no one else uses, and maybe he just reads a lot, but he uses many archaic words and phrases

There's this one night where you wake up from a nightmare; it wasn't a bad one, but you still woke up, but Louis is absolutely burning up next to you. He isn't sweating, but he's hotter than you've ever felt a human get.

You hop up and quickly go to the bathroom to grab a thermometer before popping it in his mouth

You watch as the number keeps going up and up, almost double what a person's temperature should be....

The thermometer beeps and Louis cracks his eyes open

When he realizes what you're doing, he throws you off of him, landing you on the other end of the bed

"I told you not to take my temperature!" his voice sounding deeper than usual

"But... You were so hot, I was just worried about you! You need to go to the hospital with a temperature like that! We need to go now!!"

"I'm not going to the hospital, I'm fine."

"Louis, you're not fine! No one's temperature is that high!"

"(Y/N), I'm telling you... I'm fine," his tone is kind of scary

He gets up to go into the bathroom, you aren't sure what for

When he stands at the counter and cuts on the light, you see that his nails had grown out long and pointed and black, his eyes are red, and he has these veiny black scars on his back that weren't there before

You jump up and follow him in there, "Louis... What's going on?!"

He turns to you and pins your shoulder to the wall, getting right in your face and letting out some ragid, hot breaths

An apologetic look comes to his eyes before he kisses you softly a few times, "I never wanted you to see me like this..."

"Like what, Louis? What's going on?"

He takes you back to bed to explain that he's the Devil, and he takes a human form when he's here on Earth

"You lied to me? You're- you're- the Devil??!" you pause for a moment, trying to make sense of all this, "Do you even love me?"

"Of course, I love you (Y/N)," he tries to pull you into a hug, but you fight him off, "(Y/N)... I know I kept my identity hidden from you, but my feelings are real. I love you, my honey bee!"

You wrap your arms around yourself, fighting back tears for the betrayal you feel, "Don't call me that anymore... And get out. Get out of my house!"

Louis tries to resist you, but eventually gives in... In a matter of seconds, every piece of him disappears from your life.

Over the next few weeks, Louis's presence lingers around you; you put all your effort into ignoring him, and you especially didn't want to look at him. You still feel his arms around your waist as you cook dinner for one; you hear his voice whipsering right in your ear as you try to read; you feel his warmth each time you crawl in bed to go to sleep, but you don't want to give in to him.

You even tried dating again, just to get him off your mind, and you started dating anyone and everyone

It drove Louis absolutely crazy seeing you in the arms of anyone else, watching you throw your lovely body at people who don't deserve it, and so he tries one last thing to get you back

You come home from a date feeling particularly bad about yourself, wondering if you'll ever find someone who makes you feel even half the love that Louis made you feel

As you arrive in your bedroom to lay down for the night, your eyes spot a little basket set neatly on your bed

It's full of all your favorite snacks that Louis would nab before coming over to see you: little cookies and cakes wrapped in bows, gummies and chocolates, and one of those cute cartons of goldfish crackers

You knew it meant he was here somewhere...

Despite that you climb in bed and start munching on those cute crackers you love so much

But they didn't help you feel any better, and you know the only thing that will is right there waiting for you

A tear rolls down your cheek and you sniffle a few times before whispering, "Louis?"

No response.

"Louis, I know you're here..."

The room is filled with silence, and the thought dawns on you that maybe this was a parting gift and that Louis doesn't want you either

You slump over on the bed, burying your face in a pillow, finally allowing yourself to cry over him

"Louis... I miss you..."

"Shhh, it's okay, my darling. I'm here, now, baby," you hear Louis coo next to your ear as him hands soothe you and his warm chest meets your back

"Louis," is all you can say as you turn over to cuddle into his chest, breathing a sigh of relief at his return

He puts a finger under your chin and tilts your face up to look at him; he carefully dries your watery eyes, as he says, "I feel an unbearable amount of guilt for ever deceiving you, and you deserve an apology," he lowers his voice to a whisper, "I'm sorry, honey bee."

You couldn't believe your ears. Lucifer apologizing for being deceptive? You must really be something special to him.

"Don't lie to me again," your eyes please with him

"Never," he promises, holding you to his chest, "I love you too much"

"I love you too, sweet man" you quietly pipe up from being nuzzled into him

#louis cyphre x reader #louis cyphre #angel heart #robert de niro #imagine #robert de niro x reader #robert de niro imagine

35 notes · View notes

chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 4 years

Note

Hello! Can you do a fic request of NickyxJoe where Nicky is taken hostage for 23 hours, and by the time he's rescued, he's traumatized to the point where he doesn't speak or move? Joe is fretting and caring and wants to kill whoever assaulted Nicky.

This is part one, because I was having too much fun, and then I got too into it - but it was mainly the prologue! I hope it is an alright first part one! <3

Nicky doesn’t pray much anymore.

It’s been a while. It’s been since he spilt so much blood under God’s name, thrilled at the death of innocents under his blade. He wonders absently if he would live long enough to make up for it. Perhaps that’s why he wasn’t able to die. To make up for all the people he ended, he spent his times on the earth trying to save more lives than he took.

The day started with a nice espresso, a long kiss from Joe, and then an excruciating amount of pain.

Long after Merrick, the nightmares of the lab slowly drifted away like a ship off to sea, he found himself in the comfortable routine with Joe that he loved. They traveled, they ate, they were with each other in the way that made Nicky think that he wished two people could inhabit the same space at the same time. They laughed with Andy, showed Nile the world, and slowly started conversations with Booker mere months after his banishment. He felt complete and whole.

…and comfortable.

It’s the comfortable that becomes dangerous.

He’s stirring a sauce that he told Nile would change her life, watching the bubbles of the tomatoes so they don’t burn. The love of his life is telling a story in the 1500s, where the two of them found a hidden waterfall and Nile is laughing at him. He loves that Joe has someone who is as forthcoming with her emotions as he is, the two of them getting on quicker than he’s ever seen anyone with Joe. His heart is full and warm, and he smiles as he stirs.

Then, the world explodes.

Nicky never quite gets over the sensation of dying. He’s standing at the stove, then suddenly he’s on the ground. Blinking a few times, Nicky tries to figure out what’s going on. Nile and Joe are a few yards away, coughing and slowly getting to their feet. Except Nicky can’t get up. He tries, but it hurts everywhere. It isn’t until he hears the painful howl of Joe does he realize someone’s pulling him to his feet. He wants to move away, but his limbs aren’t really functioning right now.

He’s dragged to his feet, which feels like they aren’t there, someone screaming. He blinks, trying to fight back, but he can’t feel anything. Someone yanks his hands behind his back and people yell. Nicky opens his mouth, but blood spills over his lips. He wants cry out, he wants to tell his love that everything will be okay, but all he can do is choke on the blood in his mouth.

They drag him away, further from his sun, further his family. Nicky wants to cry out, but he can’t.

He can’t.

As soon as he’s in the lab, they tie him down. It makes him feel rabid – feel angry and like a wild animal. Nicky always tried to be restrained after all the people he killed. But they’re strapping his arms and legs down, he’s healed, and he doesn’t know what to do. “No!” He cries, struggling against the restraints. “No!”

But its no use.

They tighten against his wrists and he feels feral. “No, no!”

Then they leave him.

Nicky lies in the room, strapped to a table, by himself. The walls are white and clinical and he smells antiseptic around him. There are instruments around him and he looks at the ceiling. “Io credo in Dio Padre onnipotente.” He says softly to himself.

Nicolo doesn’t say prayer often.

He says it because it’s comfortable and he’s feeling alone. He’s blessed, because he hasn’t felt alone in almost a thousand years. “Oh Yusuf,” he says softly. “I’ll find my way back to you.”

Nicky means it.

He will.

***

“Not good enough!”

“Joe—” Andy says exasperatedly.

“I said, not good enough!” Joe states, swiping his hands against the cups on the counter, the porcelain breaking against the floor. Nile flinches his violent reaction, feeling his anger from across the room. He paces, his hands on his hips, muscles straining against his shirt. “They have Nicky!”

“I know they have Nicky, Joe!” Andy shouts, her eyes wild. “I am doing what I can, but this is not my area. You know that!”

“Then call Booker!” Joe shouts, throwing his hands up.

Andy pauses. “What?”

“Call him!” Joe cries, his eyes filled with tears as he throws his hands up in the air.

“Joe, the—”

“I don’t care!” Joe cries. There is still blood flecked on his neck and his skin has stitched back together. “He can find Nicky and Nicky is gone. Call him.”

“Joe—”

“Call. Him.”

The next noise is a phone beep.

***

Nicky swallows, a probe inside his spine. They decided that they didn’t need to waste his time on antiseptic, so he feels the metal scrape against his skin. Nicky tries his best not to cry out, his hands shaking under the restraints. He curses in Italian, the words low and quick.

If only Joe was here.

He would look at him, feeling all his anxiety melt away.

Nicky sucks in a breath, looking at he ceiling. “Collect the samples.” Someone says and Nicky tenses.

In this moment, he thinks of Joe.

He can’t help it. His mind travels to the time in Malta, he will never forget.

Joe stood on a balcony, the sun shimmering against his skin. He was sweating slightly from the sun and from what they just did. Nicky never thought he’d seen someone so immaculate. He remembers laying in the bed and watching him. Watching the way the muscles move and the way his body curves. Nicky knows God and he knows truth.

Both are standing in front of him.

A scalpel is shoved against his skin. Nicky sucks in a breath and tries not to think about the blade against his skin. He swallows and tenses when the blade slices his skin. He closes his eyes and thinks of Joe.

Thinks of the way his eyes crinkle when he’s amused or the way his beard feels against Nicky’s chin. How he can’t picture anyone else next to him, his heat and his weight against him. Nicky turns his head away from the scientists, and sees no one.

Actually, that’s a lie.

He sees Joe.

***

“Keep your eyes open. Be ready.”

Andy is giving them instruction, but Joe barely hears her. Booker came through and traced the lab to a small town in Norway. Joe thinks that he and Nicky haven’t been here in a long time, and the ghost of his touch burns against his skin. “Nicolo, wait for me.” He says quietly, holding his weapon against his chest.

That was their promise. That they would go together.

Joe lets out a breath. “Together,” he whispers. “We promised.”

Booker turns, clearly able to hear Joe, but still unsure. Joe hadn’t said anything to him, outside of demanding he find Nicky. To his credit, he found him. He found him in Norway, when everyone else lost hope. Booker poured him a drink and Joe took it. The two sat in silence, Booker tapping his keyboard on his computer. Joe sat there, sipping the whiskey, listening to the keys.

“I’m not ready.” Joe said.

Booker didn’t respond. He hesitated over the keys and Joe almost yells at him to continue. He doesn’t.

The two of them lead the way. Joe feels closer to Booker than he’s ever felt, and further away from everyone. The world is lonely and he feels it. He feels the ache in his chest. It had been twenty-three hours since he’d seen Nicky. The longest since the time two hundred years ago when they got in an argument over a certain family. Joe remembers thinking he never wanted to be away from Nicky ever again.

And yet, here they are.

“I-I’m not ready, Booker.”

Booker doesn’t say anything. But his eyes speak louder than any words can say. The man reaches out and grab his forearm, eyes filled with world Joe knows he needs to discover.

They blast through the walls of the lab, each room empty as the next. Joe tries not to cry out each time there’s no one waiting for him, but he can’t.

Until.

They blast through a wall, and there’s figure at the end of the lab. Joe doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he’s at his side in an instant.

Joe cups the man face. His hands hover over the side of Nicky’s head, his eyes unseeing. He’s never seen Nicky like this, except the times that Joe was waiting for the main to wake up after a tragic death. “Nicolo, destati. Destati, Nicolo!”

Nicky doesn’t move.

His icy eyes stare at the ceiling, seeing nothing. “Nicolo,” Joe states, shaking his shoulder. “Nicolo!”

Joe leans his head toward, tapping his forehead against Nicky’s. “Love of my life,” he pleads. “Light in darkness. Please, come back to me.”

Nicky doesn’t move. His body is still.

Joe cups his face, leaning closer to him. “Nicolo, please. Come back to me. You promised me. You promised that we would go together. We promised.”

Nicky doesn’t answer. His eyes remain unseeing, unmoving.

Joe grips his face. “Please, Nicolo.”

Nicky sucks in a breath, his back arching against the restraints. Joe all but cries with relief, his eyes watering. “Nicky, please.”

Nicky’s eyes dart around like they do when he comes back to live, searching for answer that Joe doesn’t know the question. The man searches and finds Joe’s eyes and stays there. He lives there.

“Nicky, please.”

When Joe whispers his name, Nicky’s eyes roll toward him. “Nicolo.” He states. His eyes roll in the back in his head, and the man dies.

Nicolo dies.

He dies, Joe searching on his body for the culprit. When his hand runs down his side, he feels a sharp blade buried in his side.

Joe sees red.

The moment he takes the blade out, Nicky sucks in a breath. His body jerks and Joe presses his forehead against Nicky’s, the man shuts his eyes. “Nicolo, please.”

Nicky stares at him.

Joe loses himself in the worlds of Nicky eyes. Nicky looks around, trying to focus on something, then fixates on him.

Joe stares. “My love,”

Nicky doesn’t say anything.

Not anything.

Before Joe can plead, someone blasts through the lab. Joe turns, seeing the soldier before him. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

Multiple guns point at him.

Joe straightens. He pulls out his sword, bracing himself against those in front of him. The curved sword is in front of him, pointing against those in front of him and Nicky. “I would recommend you leave.”

The soldiers don’t move.

“Alright then,” he states, bringing the blade up. “I suppose this is what we’re about to do.”

The guns blast. The sword swipes.

Words fail.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #asks #lindsey writes #nicolo di genova #nicky #joe #yusuf al-kaysani #joe x nicky #yusuf al kaysani #yusuf x nicolo #fanfiction #drabbles

112 notes · View notes