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kaigarax · 1 year

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Yami Sukehiro x Reader

Quote: “Fall in love with someone that brings wonder into your life.”

“What’re you doing here?” Yami asked, taking a seat beside you.

You raised a brow, “I didn’t realise the pub was a place I wasn’t allowed to visit.”

“Never said that.” shrugged Yami before turning to the bartender and gesturing for him to bring whatever you were drinking as well.

“Then what did you mean?” You asked.

“Just that this isn’t a place that a noble Captain of a Magic Knight squad goes.”

“You’re here.”

“I’m not a noble.”

“And I am?”

Yami laughed, “the one and only here.”

The bartender was quick to bring Yami a drink of alcohol from the top shelf. It was one of those weird drinks that swirled multiple colours and was served only to those with a high level of mana. A drink strong enough to take a grown man out for a week and just happened to be very expensive.

Of course you liked drinking expensive things.

Yami did know of a few other nobles that frequented this bar. Most of them weren’t from the upper class families though and often order entire bottles instead of spending an evening here as you seemed to plan on doing.

There were a few Magic Squad Captains, apart from himself, that came here but they were few and far between. Even Yami didn’t come here often.

“How many drinks have you had?” Yami asked, eyeing the half empty mug of alcohol in your hand.

“Why’re you so curious?"

“Who says I’m curious?”

You leaned in towards him so suddenly that Yami thought you might have been going in to stab him. Instead, being the ever rational person you were, you grabbed his hand. “Your feelings say you’re curious.”

Yami eyed you curiously, “you aren’t wearing your gloves.”

“Didn’t want to.”

“Come on, you’re probably drunk.” Yami sighed, “come on. Let’s get you back before something bad happens. Wouldn’t want Vengeance worrying over you like a mother hen and I definitely don’t need Fugeleon scolding me.”

Yami found your hands were surprisingly warm as they slid down from his hand to his wrist.

You smiled, “you’re a lot nicer than anyone thinks.”

“And you’re a lot meaner.”

“Your mind agrees, but your heart doesn't.”

“And what does my heart say?”

“That while you’re a little annoyed your curiosity definitely beats out that annoyance. And sure, you came here wanting to unwind a bit but ultimately you’d rather entertain yourself by speaking with someone like me instead of drinking alone.” You gave a playful wink, “why else would you be here?”

Yami rolled his eyes, “neat little tick you have there.”

“Oh, I don’t need to use ‘tricks’ to figure out how you’re feeling. I can see it all right here.” you pointed to his face, “your eyes are very expressive. Always giving away what you’re really thinking and feeling.”

“I’m going to get Vengeance if you keep being such an ass.”

“Ah yes,” you looked off into the distance, “William.”

Yami raised a brow, “not very fond of him, are you.”

“It’s not that I dislike him or anything. It’s just sometimes he’s a little too…”

“Overbearing? Clingy? Obnoxiously positive?” Suggested Yami.

“Yeah. I guess you could say it’s been a pretty bad week. I don’t really want someone to just come in and tell me everything will get better eventually. Sometimes I think things are just better the way they are. Even if those things mean being not in a-so-great mood.” you explained.

Yami held up his mug, “well I can toast to that.”

You lifted your mug up to his own, tapping them together slightly, before downing the rest of what you had in your mug.

Yami was used to people drinking, Vanessa happened to be one of the biggest alcoholics in the Kingdom, but he hadn’t been expecting you to be so adverse to the effects. He was already feeling the lightheartedness that comes with a buzz and his cheeks were likely flushed. You, on the other hand, looked rather unaffected. Your eyes weren’t hazy and your gaze was direct. Maybe you were drinking something different?

Whatever.

You always were a weird one.

“So what’s the deal with you and Vengeance anyway?”

“The deal?”

“You know, your relationship status and whatever. I mean, you can feel everyone’s feelings so don’t you know-”

You cut him off with a smirk, “you’d be surprised at what people feel. It isn’t always as cut and dry as you may think it to be.”

“How so?”

“People like William, who don’t have strong feelings, are rather complex creatures. Everything feels rather similar. There are delicate differences like a twinge here or a slight edge there. It’s like the difference between teal and aqua. They’re different colours but don’t have much of a difference from a distance.” you explained, “get it?”

“Not even slightly.” Yami shrugged, “So, how are my feelings?”

“You’re very expressive, just as I said.”

“No but didn’t you just say everyone’s feelings are at different levels?”

You nodded.

“Then how do mine feel?”

“Oh,” you flushed, turning away from Yami and towards the bartender as he refilled yours and his mug.

Yami leaned forward, now suddenly intrigued at your sudden change in demeanor, “do they get your stomach tied in knots or something?”

“It’s just… that’s a rather intimate question.”

“Well you just finished explaining Vengeance's feelings so it can’t be that intimate, unless-”

“No. Definitely not.” you huffed, “and besides I didn’t describe how his feelings are. Just how people in general feel.”

“Whatever.”

You raised your mug to your lips before taking a long gulp. Was the alcohol hitting you now? Your cheeks weren’t yet flushed but it would probably take a few minutes before your system could fully take it in.

“So.” Yami said expectantly.

“So what?”

“Are you going to tell me or not?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I asked nicely.” Yami rolled his eyes, “do you need another reason?”

“Yes actually. I’m not some kind of toy that people can pass around to tell them whatever their feelings. I happen to be a person with feelings as well.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” teased Yami.

You elbowed him lightly, “come on.”

“So do you want me to pay you or something?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what?”

“Hmm,” you brought the mug back to your lips, taking another long drink. You looked rather deep in thought. Your eyes narrowed slightly and your eyebrows scrunched closely together. Yami found himself wanting to reach over and smooth the creases in your forehead but decided against it at the last second. He wasn’t some weirdo.

His decision to pull away at the last second though ended up with his arm awkwardly in the air between the two of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

Yami cleared his throat, feeling a flush crawl up his neck, “there was a fly in the air.”

You smiled, “of course you did.”

“You and your little tricks.” huffed Yami.

“Alright,” you placed your mug down on the counter with certainty, “I'll describe your feelings but only if you promise to do something for me.”

“As long as it's nothing to do with Nozel. My brain is literally going to melt if I have to deal with another one of his outbursts.”

“I actually find his outbursts rather amusing.”

“That’s because you’ve never been on the receiving end.”

“Well regardless, this doesn't have to do with him.”

“So what is it that you want? I’m not paying your tab or anything am I?”

“Of course not and it shouldn’t be embarrassing either.”

Yami eyed you suspiciously, “how… reassuring.”

“Very~” you reached into the small bag pulling out a wad of gold coins, “so what kinds of things are you willing to do?”

The bartender came back to count the coins you’d left for him.

“Anything.” answered Yami.

The bartender tried to hand over extra coins to you but you pushed them back towards the bartender before turning to look at Yami, “anything? Well then-”

Yami cut you off, “anything within restraint. Like I said before, nothing that’ll get me in trouble.”

“Great!” you smiled, grabbing Yami’s hand and running out of the bar with him.

You smiled in a way that Yami hadn’t seen you smile. Your eyes glimmered with excitement and untold secrets.

You’d always been childish but Yami can’t recall the last time you’d actually looked so young.

You were one of the younger captains but the age difference hadn’t actually occurred to Yami until right now. You didn’t have the same stress lines you did before. No worry or stress evident upon your features. It was almost like seeing a different side of you.

The two of you ran through the alleyways of the streets and eventually came out upon the edge of the city. A large clearing that seemed to disappear far into the distance where it met with the sky.

“What are we doing here?” Yami asked.

“I wanted to see the sky.”

“And so you dragged me along to see?”

“Of course. You said anything, after all and I wanted to see the sky.” you explained.

“So why did we have to run all the way here?”

“Because it’s easier to feel other people’s emotions when they’re not around other people and while they’re tired.”

“And why couldn’t you explain that to me before running off?”

“Because sometimes you gotta just go with the flow.”

“Is that what you were doing?” Yami asked, amusement bubbling up in his chest.

“Of course!” you smiled in a way that sent butterflies to his stomach, “doing things just because you can when you can is what makes the best little moments in life. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Yami nodded.

“Isn’t the sky beautiful tonight?” you asked.

Yami shrugged, “I guess.”

The sky did look rather nice today, but nothing very different from what he’s already seen. Perhaps there was something you saw that he didn’t?

“Girls are supposed to like pretty things like the stars, aren’t they?” Asked Yami.

“To be honest, I actually don’t think the stars are that pretty.” you shrugged, laying down on the ground and staring up at the sky, “kind of mundane, really.”

Yami raised an eyebrow curiously, taking a seat beside you, “huh. And what’re some things you do find interesting?”

You smiled in a way Yami didn’t know you could, “people that spark.”

“That thing where there are tiny spots of flickering light?”

“No, that's sparkling. Very different from a spark?”

Yami snorted, “what’s the difference?”

“Sparkling, as you so brilliantly put it, is tiny specks of flicking light. A spark, on the other hand, is a single burst of light that often erupts into flames.” you explained, a gleam in your eyes.

“And how exactly do people spark?”

“Passion, heart and brilliance.” The three mixed perfectly create the sensation known as ‘wonder’ or in other words, a spark.”

Yami laughed, “you’re so weird.”

“At least I don’t sit on the toilet all day,” you laughed, “that’s probably why your squad is always dead last in rankings. No Captain there to take care of them.”

“As if your squad is so good.”

“I’ll have you know that my squad ranks second, only after Golden Dawn.”

“Yeah, second in being tryhards.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “tryhards?”

“Don’t you know any modern lingo?” Yami rolled his eyes playfully, “it’s an insult to someone that tries too hard.”

“Huh. What a strange thing to say, especially since you, by the definition seem to be quite the tryhard yourself. Apart from Captain duties, of course.”

“Sweetheart, you’re talking to the King of Tryhards.”

“Didn’t you just say that being called a tryhard was an insult?”

“Nothing’s an insult when directed towards me.”

“Strange thing to boast about, but whatever suits you.” you sat up and once again snatched Yami’s hand. Your hands were pleasantly warm. Your fingers were softer than Yami’s own and left a pleasant tingling sensation as they moved down towards his wrist. “The moment right before the sun rises. Anticipation and determination. Survival and unknowing. You’re like a gentle breeze in the midst of a summer evening.”

Yami flushed, “nice trick.”

You rolled your eyes, “it’s not a trick.”

He interlocked his fingers with yours, “I know.”

Fall in love with someone that brings wonder into your life.

#Black Clover #black clover x reader #yami sukehiro x reader #100 ways to fall in love

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delicate-fayette · 10 months

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Yandere Clive Rosfield - Alphabet and Tarot Card Prompts

The Hermit - Is this yandere more relaxed, or capable of being more relaxed?

No, not at all really. Or-I supposed it depends on which part of the game we’re talking about with Clive. If we’re talking about when he only just escaped the Imperial Army and stuff, he isn’t not relaxed in the slightest. He still hasn’t come to terms with Joshua and he still refuses to rest until his revenge is had. Which, really that lack of self-atonement likely bleeds into his obsession as well.

He struggles to relax around you, even if he is deeply infatuated with you. Hell, the fact that Clive’d self-aware of how unhealthy his obsession is may make him even more wary. He doesn’t understand why he feels this way, and as a result may be emotionally distant from you. Yet, I feel like in small, meaningful moments, he learns how to let go and relax just a little with you. He deeply loves you, and it becomes obvious in the tender moments when you’re both alone such as at night if you’re both sharing a bed, or after a battle and licking each others wounds. He’s a soft man underneath the cold exterior really.

The Tower - If this yandere saw their darling in danger, how would they respond/react?

This man would lose his mind. Legitimately he would just see red, and from his point of view it would almost seem like he blacked out, and upon awaking his enemies were dead, battered and slaughtered around him. To you however, he briefly turned into nothing but a killing machine, despite your pleas or attempts to stop him. It was…horrific to watch really despite everything you’ve likely seen.

Afterwards, when the dust settles he rushes to you in a daze, checking for injuries and nearly going into another fit when he spots one much too deep for his comfort. The next several hours are a nuisance for you, partially because you’re probably still reeling from the display from earlier and also due to Clive suddenly becoming a mother-hen in a matter of minutes. He won’t stop checking in on you, despite Tarja’s (and your) attempts to placate him and the moment you’re clear he stays glued to your side for the next several weeks with a wild and haunted look in his eyes.

Frankly, he was terrified of losing you. In that moment when he saw you harmed, his mind flashed back to that fateful night, and he snapped. He doesn’t fully recover from seeing you like that and that may be what triggers his yandere instincts.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Clive is very…shy when it comes to showing affection. Even a bit awkward. He likes gift-giving, noticing things that may catch your eye and bringing them to you later. Like flowers or luxuries like fresh, new clothing. He isn’t intense with how he shows his love, he’s very quiet and gentle. The only times he becomes rather aggressive is when he deathly afraid for your safety, and acts as your person bodyguard for weeks.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Overtime, he would show all of himself it you. Shockingly to him, it isn’t that hard to. He feels like he can breathe so much easier around you, and so in intimate moments he tends to spill his heart out naturally, wanting his darling to listen. You already give him emotional reprieve of course, but you allowing him to weep in your arms just lets him know how much of an angel you are to him. He doesn’t know any other being in this wretched world that is as forgiving as you, nor does he care to know them. He’s in too deep now, and is drunk on the feeling of being with you and giving all of himself to you. He only hopes you do the same, in time. Don’t worry, he’s patient.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

It is, but very subtle. In public, he acts a lot more like your bodyguard and the people around you likely tease you both about being a couple already with how Clive hovers over you. Around others, he’s as cold as he usually is, only warming up to few like Cid or Jill.

He still comes off as cold at times to you in private, yet there’s always a lingering feeling of something else behind all of his words and gestures. Longing, or yearning that can be easier to detect overtime. That may be even what draws you to you, the mystery and the feeling of belonging you feel around one another. Just ignore everything else about him that might be off-putting, like his staring that he tries to hide or the way he always seems to notice things about you he shouldn’t.

#yandere final fantasy #Yandere final fantasy XVI #Yandere final fantasy 16 #Yandere Clive rosfield #him… 🩷🩷

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notastraykid · 1 year

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Clean Up!

Chan x gn!reader (I hope? Sorry if I messed up somewhere.) Warnings: It’s just silly almost fluff. ‘Guys’ is used as a description of a collection of people rather than a gender. Also… this is very poopy joke centric. I am 100% immature with the jokes. I say I’m sorry but I’m really not. I have not sense/spell checked this. I'm not going to, neither so nyah-nyah. :P Word Count: 1671 You tightly held the black refuse back in your grip as Chan threw in a few more empty cans and plastic cups. The bag was now half full of litter from following your friend around the lounge.

It was stupid o’clock in the morning and the birthday party had finally broken up. Most people had left save the odd few who refused to believe it was finished or were too drunk to keep their eyes open and slept where they fell. Your ears buzzed at the now-odd silence. The way his arms flexed in his black shirt as he crushed another beer can made a hot flush creep up from your neck and you hoped it wasn’t too obvious you were staring. You could always blame the alcohol, anyway. You hadn’t had much but he didn’t need to be privy to that. “You know,” Chan said, as he tried to brush pretzel crumbs off the sofa and into his hands, failing miserably. He gave a self-defeated shrug and brushed them onto the floor. “…you didn’t have to stay and help. You were a guest, I was the host. Well, one of the hosts of this birthday party…” He narrowed his eyes a little as he looked around for his co-host, Felix. “Of course, clean up time and he's nowhere to be found. Well at least I have you!” Chan sat down where the pretzel crumbs just resided and patted the little space beside him. You perched on the edge of the sofa after moving a small pizza box onto your lap. Mmm. Pepperoni. Chan sighed and crossed his legs on the coffee table in front of him, closing his eyes. “I don’t mind,” you quietly responded, looking at the small pile of discarded paper plates with half eaten food, a smashed chocolate bar and what looked like half boiled egg next to his feet. The egg was in a puddle of what you hoped to be beer. “I like to be helpful. You know me.” You gingerly picked up the boiled egg and threw it in the black bag and sniffed your hand. Yep. Stale beer. “Mother Hen complex kicks in and I’m cleaning, offering people water and calling taxi’s for people… I’m just waiting on the day someone asks me to sign a note for school.” a half-hearted chuckle left your lips. You were always the sensible one of the friend group. Good ol’ reliable. Silence fell between the two of you for a moment and you wiped your hand on your thigh. You looked up at Chan who still had his eyes closed. A smile grew on his face, dimples deepening. “Dear Mr Anderson,” He said with a fake high-pitched voice as his hand dancing through the air as if writing a letter, “Please excuse Seungmin from swimming as he has a terrible case of the botty squirts and one simply cannot afford to drain yet another pool. It went everywhere! Kind regards, Seungmin’s Ma-ma.” A snort fell from your mouth causing you to drop the top of the black bag and cover your mouth. Eyes wide, you looked at Chan. One eye had opened to look at you and his grin widened. “I didn’t take you for a snorter! Haa! Of all the years we’ve known each other…” “Shut up it was an accident.” You could feel another blush creep up your neck. “Just caught me by surprise!” “Cuuttee. Okay. Okay.” Chan nodded to himself as he turned sideways to face you, one leg crossing under another. “Let’s see if I can get that to happen again.” Your eyes rolled and hoped your face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Why on earth… Listen. I don’t usually snort. It won’t happen again.” “It was cute and I like the challenge!” He paused, mouth turning into a thin line as he thought. “I can only think of poo jokes now.” Chan’s eyes closed into crescents, dimples deepening. “Mature. But go on!” You raised your eyebrows at him and nodded slightly, brushing past the fact he thought your snort was cute. How much had he had to drink? He seemed pretty with it when you were cleaning up.

“But! You won’t hear another snort from me.” You let your hand pick at the fabric on the sofa cushion by your leg to help ground yourself and distract yourself. Stop blushing for the love of… There was a slight intake of breath before Chan spoke, “By the way, did you know that diarrhoea is hereditary?” “Hmm.” You said, nodding once, smiling. “Yeah I heard it runs in your …genes...” You leant forward slightly in a challenge. “Next.” “Right Okay. How about the constipated maths professor? Yeah he worked it out with a pencil. No?... Hmm.” You waited for a few beats. Then a few more. You looked questioningly at Chan and wondered if he had fell asleep with his eyes open? “Cha-“ “Hm? Oh sorry.” Chan rubbed his face. “Blame the alcohol… My concentration… it’s like Seungmin’s diarrhoea… it’s all over the place.” Head dropped, eyes closed, you had to raise one finger to let him know that he was close… close to a laugh and probably a snort. “Almost. Almost had me there.” “What’s the definition of a surprise?” Your head was still lowered, and you shook your head left to right once. Chan put a finger under your chin and lifted your head. You gazed met his own, eyes dancing with laughter. “A fart with a lump in it.” Forehead creased, you made a groaning sound as you kept your lips tight. He was not going to win. Chan knew. Just one more… One more joke or pun. He had no idea why but he had to get you to laugh. Be it the snort or an actual laugh, he didn’t care, but he had to hear you laugh again. Of all the ways he knew to flirt with someone, why did he have to run with these kind of jokes and puns? He felt stupid but it seemed to be working. You were flushed and happy and Chan took that as progress. Chan leant closer still. You made a ‘mmm-mmm’ sound of denial, lips still forced closed gave a shake of your head. So pretty… you thought to yourself as you looked into his eyes. “Why did the baker’s hands stink?” He himself began to blush when he realised how close his face was to yours. His hand moved from below your chin to rest on your cheek. Your face relaxed and you were no longer holding your mouth together. You sucked in your lower lip a little, wondering if he wanted you to answer or not. Was this happening? Over these kind of jokes? He slowly moved his face closer still, a small quick lick of his lips had you feeling a flutter in your stomach, his eyes glittering before slowly blinking. A quick glimpse down to your own mouth then back up to your own eyes.

Your heart was beating so fast you were sure it was either going to give up and flatline with smoke emitting from your ears or explode out of your chest like something from a sci-fi movie. Time must have stopped because how else could you take this moment to admire the depth of his brown eyes, or count the faint freckles across his nose and cheeks? Them dimples up close were as deep as the ocean and them lips… You let out a little sigh. Closer still. Were you still breathing? You didn’t know. Could you see yourself reflected in his eyes? You wouldn’t know now; Chan had closed them and tilted his head so slightly. His breathe… gin? Orange juice??... invaded your senses. You’d always liked the smell of oranges. You closed your eyes and felt the ghost of his lips against yours. The butterflies in your stomach were about to start doing a conga. The sound of someone walking and the crinkling of paper made you both look up and Chan’s hand dropped from your cheek. Seungmin was hobbling past you both, streamers wrapped around one foot, dragging behind him as he walked. You looked at Chan, at Seungmin, back at Chan… Seungmin frowned and rubbed his face, causing a round of giggles from you both. “Whah??” He kicked his leg with the streamers attached. Chan giggled. “Seungminnie - My love for you is like diarrhea! I just can’t hold it in!” You tried to hide your face against Chans arm.

“Ah I don’t get you guys.” He rolled his eyes and tried to kick the streamers off his foot again, lost his balance ever so slightly and stumbled towards the hall leading to the bathroom. “Don’t be a party pooper!” Chan called. Seungmin threw his arms over his head in despair. “Let me know if you need more toilet paper!” You hollered as the door slammed shut. “And Happy Birthday!!” Another snort. Chan smiled with triumph, although it was your own which made your snort. He shook his head in an endearing way before pulling you back to his lips. Warm and soft, moving against your own, gently, and slowly. You tilted your head as your noses brushed ever so slightly. Your right arm dragged up his left, stopping at his neck, fingers curling against his hot skin. It was delicate and Chan definitely tasted of oranges. You felt him smile against your lips. “To answer your last...” You said to Chan as you broke apart, slightly breathless. You gave a little sigh and rested your forehead against Chans, not believing you were about to say this after your first kiss with him. “I know the answer. It’s because he kneaded a poo.”

Again, sorry not sorry about the poop jokes. I don't know why it went down that route but yeah. It's done now. If you got this far, you're also immature and I like you. You're my people.

#Chan #bang chan #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #stray kids #skz #stray kids bang chan #stray kids chan #stray kids fic #bang chan fic #chan fic

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bayisdying · 2 years

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Imagine you're Goose&Carole's daughter (+Bradley's little sister)

Okay first off, Goose lives. No accidents here. Everything is FINE.

You're born about a year or so after Top Gun. So 5 years younger than Bradley.

PROTECTED CHILD. Everyone loves you. You don't have to walk because everyone carries you everywhere. If you so much as tear up? Everyone is throwing hands.

Goose sings "You Are My Sunshine" to you every single night.

Carole LOVES having a mini-her. Matching shirts? Yes. Absolutely.

When Bradley first met you he wasn't so sure about being an older brother but as you two grow up? Oh he loves being your brother. He would do anything for you.

Goose totally let's you stand on his feet and dances around the living room with you.

You try to learn the piano, but it doesn't come as easily to you as it does to Bradley.

Uncle Mav takes you on motorcycle rides. He is very careful because he knows you are precious cargo (and he fears Carole's wrath)

As you grow up you become a somewhat rebellious teenager. You never called your parents if you were drunk. It was either Bradley or Mav.

Bradley would be the silent anger. He doesn't want to yell at you and make you feel like you can't count on him. He simply puts you into the Bronco, buckles you in, hands you a water bottle to drink, and drives you to his place to spend the night in his bed.

Uncle Mav though? He is SCREAMING mad. He is dragging you out of the party by your ear. Throwing you in the car he has for these occasions and driving your ass straight home. He let's you have his bed. But you get to call your parents at 3am and tell them where you are.

You mellow out as a young adult and make the big decision to join the Navy and become an aviator. But I feel like you'd be a backseater like your old man not a pilot like Mav and Rooster

Call sign? "Hen"

And boy you are a Mother Hen so it fits

You backseat for Phoenix (so sorry Bob my beloved.)

G I R L P O W E R

You are on the mission, and my God the emotions you go through. Excitement that it worked. Then Mav goes down and you are devastated. Then Rooster goes back for him? YOU ARE DAMN NEAR HAVING A HEART ATTACK.

Phoenix flies back to the carrier and as soon as you two land you fall into her arms. Payback and Fanboy join the group hug when they land too.

You punch Bradley when him and Mav land. He doesn't even mind. He knows the hell he put you through.

You make him and Mav tell Mom and Dad what they did (well as much as they can)

Carole loses her voice screaming at them. You and Goose are dying of laughter at how she is ripping them both new ones.

God you love your weird ass family and they love you so much back.

See I can make happy imagines. 😂

Tagging the besties for the resties: @kloofspeaks @itzyogurl92 @callsign-milano @callsignthirsty @roosterscockpit

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har-grief · 2 years

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Preferences ~ They see you cry

Luther (Number 1)

- He would be the most concerned man ever.

- He'd hug you close to his chest, not saying anything, but just letting you cry it all out.

- He's not much for words at times like this, so he'll show how much he cares in other ways. Making you coffee, playing your favorite movie, things like that.

- He wouldn't force you to divulge what made you cry, but if you choose to vent, he'll be a great listener.

Diego (Number 2)

- Diego would take one look at you and be ready to kill a bitch.

- The first thing he would do though, would be to crouch down in front of you and wipe your tears away gently, while asking who or what made you cry.

- If it's a person that's made you this upset, Diego would definitely track them down and have a nice chat with them...

- After that, he'd come home to you and you two would spend the day cuddling in bed.

Allison (Number 3)

- Allison would make such a fuss out of you. Get ready for her to go into full mom mode.

- When she first sees you crying, she coaxes you into bed and will climb in after you.

- It's then that she listens to what happened. She'll be very patient and coo and gasp and comment at all the appropriate places.

- You'll probably fall asleep after that from the motion of her hands weaving through your hair.

- When you wake up, she'll be right there with lots of your favorite snacks and candies to cheer you up.

Klaus (Number 4)

- When Klaus sees you crying, his heart cracks.

- He'll ask you what happened, and then gently cradle you in his arms, all while pressing sweet kisses on the top of your head.

- Will definitely tell you lots of jokes in an attempt to get you to laugh, it always works.

- He tries to distract you by telling you about his day. Maybe something stupid Ben did.

- He may try to get you drunk, because he knows that at the very least, you'll be happier. Much to Ben's disapproval, if he's around

- He will not leave your side until he is 100% certain that you are okay.

Five (Number 5)

- When Five sees you cry, the first emotions he feels are a mixture of concern and rage.

- Concern for you, his sweet, precious darling.

- Rage towards whoever or whatever made you cry.

- He will seriously not hesitate to murder if he discovers that somebody harmed (or tried to harm) you.

- Will most definitely make you a margarita.

Ben (Number 6)

- You are Ben's world, and when he sees you as a sobbing mess, his world shatters.

- He clutches you tightly to his chest, and whispers words of comfort in your ear.

- He will not ask you to tell him what happened, but you do it anyway. All the while, he will be a polite listener, not interrupting you, but trailing lazy patterns on your skin as he hums.

- He will mother hen you after your vent. He'll make your favorite food, and you will binge watch your comfort show while cuddled up on the couch.

Vanya (Number 7)

- First thing Vanya will do is confirm you are okay, and not physically hurt.

- Then she asks if you need any space and if she should leave you alone. You almost never ask her to do this.

- She is more than happy to cradle your head in her lap and wipe away your tears as you talk to her. She'll talk back, and make you feel at ease.

- She'll probably run you a bubble bath to relax you, because I feel like that's a very Vanya thing to do.

- After your bath, you'll sleep like a rock, and she'll spoon you the whole time.

#har-grief #tua #the umbrella academy #tua preferences #the umbrella academy preferences #luther hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x reader #allison hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #vanya hargreeves x reader #tua x reader #tua oneshots

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whaleofatjme1920 · 2 years

Text

Do you mind if you can do a headcannon for TF2 Defense class + Sniper and Medic with an S/O with anger issues and anxiety. Like they just find her in her now messed up room kicking the shit out of a dirty mattress.

So she kicks the shit out of a dirty mattress as she mutters about how she just wants a genuine hug from her family members and if her emotions really do matte r? How do the mercs react to this?

Defense Class, Sniper and Medic with an SO that as Anger Issues and Anxiety

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: Here you go!! Hope you feel better soon love bug. @meetupgrader <3]

Demoman

The first time he sees you kicking an old, dirty mattress he's really, really concerned? Like, it sobers him up. What brought you to this?

He talks you down. Tavish is actually really good with his words when he's not drunk. He's a sweetheart through and through.

I feel like Tavish would really encourage you to seek healthier methods.

But, at the same time, he's there to take care of you. Gives you a lot more physical affection to make you feel better and try to help you. Of course your emotions are valid!!

Tavish spends so much time just trying to make you feel safe, secure and loved. You deserve it.

Heavy

His family was really affectionate growing up, meaning Mikhail, but default is really affectionate. It surprises people! He sees you letting your anger out and it makes his heart break.

Has a really long talk with you about why you feel this way, and when he realizes you're practically starving for affection?? He's always holding you.

I feel he makes you secure in yourself, and what you need. Helps you get your anger out in a safe way too.

He makes sure you feel validated because he knows what it's like to be invalidated. Will always let you be heard.

If he ever spoke to your family, he might have some stern words for them. But ultimately, his focus is on you.

Engineer

He's also very concerned about you kicking a mattress. Like, he's no stranger to getting anger out in various forms, and he's glad you're not hurting yourself, but what? What's wrong?

Ever the mother hen, he's going to come in and make sure you get what you need out. Realizes you just crave affection and to feel validated.

Dell is a sweetie pie to the hundredth degree, so like, he's got you. Smothers you in hugs and affection when you need it. Makes sure you get what you need.

However, he wants you to also talk about what's on your mind more. He wants to help you get to a better mental place.

Wants you to be healthy and happy, can't do that while you're wrapped so tightly in your emotions. It's okay to feel that way, but let's find something healthier together.

Sniper

Yeah Mundy has this too. He gets out his anger in a physical way as well. Sees you kicking the mattress and he knows.

He tends to bottle things up until he can't take it, but he knows that isn't healthy. Encourages you to actually talk about it though because he cares about you. You need affection?? He's touch starved.

The two of you spend a lot of time being physically affectionate with one another. He wants to make sure you feel secure with him.

His father wasn't very affectionate with him so like, he gets it. He hates that your family doesn't make you feel validated because what.

Anyways, Mundy takes good care of you, or rather, the two of you take care of each other. I think the two of you channel that anger into exercise or just working on your skill. Make it productive.

Medic

Of course he's concerned. He's like "Schatz??? What are you doing???" Pulls you away because he's super concerned for you.

Sits you down to see why you're acting the way you are. And it takes him a moment, because I think Ludwig has slight empathy problems, but like, his heart breaks hearing you feel so invalidated and unloved.

Spends a lot of time making sure you feel warm, loved and cared for in his own way. He does a lot of things for you, that's one of his love languages. Also works with you on your anger and anxiety because he's the most prepared for that sector tbh.

Archimedes likes to hang around you and coo softly. Just small little things Ludwig thinks will make you happy throughout the day.

He just wants you to feel alright. Won't say anything bad about your family but is mad they lacked in affection.

#tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 demoman #tf2 demoman headcanon #tf2 heavy headcanon #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 heavy #tf2 engineer headcanon #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 engineer #team fortress 2 sniper x reader #tf2 sniper headcanon #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 medic headcanon #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 x reader #tf2 headcanons

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hmslusitania · 3 years

Note

75+77 for buddie

75. Bed Sharing + 77. In Vino Veritas

I didn't mean to actually end up turning this into a ficlet but, uh, anyway here we are. I think it’s my penance for the fact I’ve had two prompts from you in my inbox for literal months that I haven’t gotten to yet 😬

tw: alcohol use. Nothing happens with it, there isn’t even drunken kissing, but they are drunk for this ficlet, because as the prompt says, there is truth in wine.

-----

The wedding goes off without a hitch.

Buck has never been happier to see Maddie happy. He’s done this one before – walked her down an aisle – but he likes this one so much better than the last time. He likes everything about this wedding better, from the groom (Chimney, of course) to the setting (a vineyard, with the entire attached villa rented out for the wedding party to stay at).

But the party’s wound down now. Mr and Mrs Lee are watching Jee-Yun, and Maddie and Chimney have been bundled off to the bridal suite, and the only people left in the main reception hall are Hen and Karen, slowly revolving in place together even though the music stopped maybe an hour ago.

All that’s left is for Buck to go find his room.

Of course, when he does, it’s full. Buck considers the scene before him, hands on his hips, and finally shakes his head. The three boys – Harry, Denny, Chris – have constructed a pillow fort out of all the bedding in Buck’s room and are sound asleep, still in their formal wear.

Buck’s phone looks a little blurry when he pulls it out to text Athena, Hen, and Eddie to let them know exactly where their boys are, and then he’s got to find somewhere else to sleep. He tiptoes past the kids to get his toothbrush from the bathroom, and as is so often the case, notices exactly how drunk he still is when he catches sight of his own face in the bathroom mirror.

He collects his toothbrush and talks himself down a little and then heads off to try and find somewhere to sleep that hasn’t been utterly ransacked by eleven-year-olds. He only makes it halfway down the hall before he stumbles into Eddie, who seems soberer than he is for all of three seconds before he starts plucking at Buck’s suspenders.

“You’re wearing suspenders,” Eddie announces, hooking his finger under one of the straps and letting it snap back against Buck’s chest.

“Yeah, it’s fancy,” Buck replies. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Chris, I was gonna check on Chris,” Eddie says. He plucks at Buck’s suspender again and giggles at the snapping sound it makes.

“Chris is good, they made a fort in my room,” Buck says. “So I was gonna sleep on the…”

He trails off when he realises he doesn’t actually have an endgame here.

“On the?” Eddie prompts.

Buck shrugs broadly, and with the amount of wine he’s had that night, it messes with his equilibrium enough that he tips backwards. It’s only Eddie’s fingers wrapped around his suspenders that keeps him from going over.

“On the other side of my bed,” Eddie says, and starts pulling him down the hallway. Buck can barely walk backward while he’s sober, so he’s very impressed by Eddie’s ability to do so now.

“Can I borrow your toothpaste?” Buck asks, because it is suddenly the most important thing in the world that he brush his teeth.

Eddie’s face goes deadly serious. “No,” he says. He lets go of one of Buck’s suspenders to open the door behind him and pulls him inside. “No, man, there’s a line in friendship and toothpaste is just—”

Before Buck can do more than tilt his head, confused, Eddie breaks and starts giggling again.

Buck’s never really seen him drunk before, he realises. And when he’s been tipsy, it’s been on beer. Wine-drunk is a whole different ballgame.

“No, of course you can use my toothpaste,” Eddie says. “Do you need to borrow my toothbrush, too?”

Buck holds his own up obligingly.

Brushing your teeth when you’re drunk and giggly and your best friend is also drunk and giggly and keeps bumping into you while trying to brush his own teeth turns out to be a challenge, but they somehow make it through and finally collapse on Eddie’s bed.

They start off in their full suits from the wedding, but after lying there for a few minutes, Buck sits up – ignoring the sudden surge of dizziness – and takes off his jacket so he can slip the suspenders down off his shoulders. He lays back down, spreading his arms out flat across the surface of the bed to try and get his head to stop spinning. A moment later, Eddie sits up and removes his already loose tie from around his neck and drops it off the edge of the bed, followed quickly by his jacket. When he lays back down, it’s on his side and Buck only notes that they forgot to turn the lights off when he realises he can see every detail of Eddie’s face while Eddie stares at him.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Eddie asks at something that is probably supposed to be a whisper.

“Yes, absolutely, please do,” Buck says.

“I love weddings,” Eddie says.

Buck grins at him, oddly endeared that this is a secret.

“Shh,” Eddie says, pressing a shushing finger to Buck’s lips.

Buck goes cross-eyed trying to see Eddie’s finger, and Eddie goes cross-eyed doing the same and then shakes himself.

“I mean, shh,” he says again, this time pressing the finger to his own lips.

Buck makes his best solemn, nodding face.

“Not – not the big ones? With the frilly white dresses and the bridezillas and the terrifying mothers-in-law and stuff,” Eddie says. “But the ones like this where – where you know the sky could fall down around everyone but it would be okay because the people getting married love each other so much.”

“It was nice,” Buck agrees. “Nicer than the last time Maddie got married, too. That was a big frilly dress wedding. I didn’t like that one.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose in distaste. “What about the other weddings you’ve been to?”

It’s hard to tilt his head sideways in confusion when Buck is already lying down but he gives it his best effort. “What other weddings?”

“The other weddings you’ve been to,” Eddie says, which is just the same thing he said before but in a statement instead of a question. “What were they like?”

“I haven’t been to other weddings,” Buck says.

Eddie gasps. “What?”

“The only weddings I’ve been to are Maddie’s,” Buck says.

Eddie doesn’t seem able to comprehend this. “What about your cousins and stuff, though?”

“Don’t have any,” Buck says.

Eddie makes a face at him like this is utterly unacceptable. “Well, when we get married, it’ll be like this. It’ll be nice.”

Buck’s heart does a full three-sixty in his chest. “Say that again?”

“Maybe not a vineyard? Like, somewhere – I don’t know, but I like this with everyone staying over, maybe like a cabin or something? I don’t know,” Eddie says.

“Eddie, we’re not dating,” Buck says.

The look Eddie gives him would be funny in any other circumstance except Buck is way too drunk to handle it right now.

“We’re not?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Buck says. And then, suddenly, he’s second guessing himself. “I don’t think we are, at least?”

“Well, that’s stupid,” Eddie replies. “We should be dating.”

“Obviously,” Buck agrees. “Probably, like, years ago.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Duh.”

“Duh,” Buck echoes, and then bursts out laughing. When Eddie starts laughing again as well, Buck rolls over and tucks his head into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie wraps and arm around him and Buck hooks a leg around one of Eddie’s.

They’re still entangled when the sun comes up.

Fanfic Trope Mashups!

#the ghost ship scribbles #9-1-1 #buddie #9-1-1 fic #buddie fic #the ghost ship answers questions

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alexandrianicolegrey-oc · 3 years

Text

Eddie Diaz x Fem!reader

⚠️TW:⚠️ swearing, mentions of physical abuse, alcohol, drugs, mentions of abandonment

Angst, Physical Abuse, Healing/Trauma

Eddie finds out that Y/n's father is physically abusing her when she shows up to the station covered in fresh bruises, blood, and tears.

.......

For years, Y/n's father had been taking drugs and drinking his life way. And everytime he did, he would take his rage out on her. Leaving her broken, hurt, bloodied, and just scared. But, the day she met Eddie Diaz at the Santa Monica Pier when he was with his son, she would never forget it.

Fast forward a few years, Y/n and Eddie stated dating, and Christopher loved her as much as Eddie did. It was a mid morning, when Eddie got to work for his shift. Y/n was home alone when her father showed up. Angry that she had left him alone to fend for himself and he took his anger out on her, leaving her there to die.

After he left, she had blood dripping down the side of her face, she had a busted lip, her eye was bruised badly, and her nose was bleeding but she managed to get to the station somehow.

She limped her way inside, just as Hen came down the stairs and saw the shape she was in. "Oh my god!" She rushed over, catching Y/n in her arms before she fell. "Guys! I need help down here!" Hen called into the radio.

Bobby was the first to come down, followed by Buck, Chimney, and Eddie. Eddie's face froze when he saw his girlfriend beaten so badly. He rushed over. Bobby started to hold him back, "No!" He pushed his way to Y/n.

Eddie kneeled down, "Y/n? Who did this to you?" He asked, whe examining her face.

"M-my father. He-he came by after you left and beat me. He said-" She broke into sobs again. "He said it was my fault!" Eddie shook his head, "No, nothing is your fault. That drunk son of a bitch will pay for this."

"Eddie, let Athena handle this, I've called her and let her know what the situation is." Bobby said, coming back from taking a phone call from Athena.

"Y/n, follow the light for me." Hen asked sweetly. She followed the light or tried to at least. "Yeah, she has a concussion."

Buck helped Eddie get Y/n to the couch to rest. "Buck is going to stay here with you while we're out on calls. Alright? And if you need me for anything, Buck knows how to reach me." Eddie kissed her head softly. "Buck, here's some money if you or her get hungry." Eddie tried to hand money to Buck.

"No, keep it. I'll pay for the food if she gets hungry." Buck pushed Eddie's hand away.

"Thanks, man." Eddie said with a smile. He was still very much worried about Y/n. And the fact that he just found out about the abuse, he was not happy. But he wasn't mad at her. He was mad at the low life that called himself a father.

Later that day, Eddie just got off his shift, he took Y/n home and got her settled into their bed. He brought her dinner that he made for the three of them. Him, her, and Chris. He laid beside her. "How long has he been hurting you? And be honest with me." Eddie said calmly and softly.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness and fear which Eddie could see. "Ever since my mother left and never came back. I was three then. He started drinking heavily and got into drugs. Meth, weed, cocaine. You name it. And he became more violent towards me. He blamed me for my mom leaving us. He then started beating me everyday of my life." Her small voice broke Eddie's heart to hear her say it.

"He will never touch you again. Athena tracked him down and he is now locked away." Eddie kissed her head. "You are safe with me and-"

"Me!" Chris had come into the room. He softly yet gentally climbed into the bed between his father and Y/n.

"Yeah, what my son said." Eddie laughed. Y/n smiled and chuckled. "You two are something." Y/n laughed. "That's why I love you both."

After awhile, Eddie, Chris, and Y/n all fell asleep after a long, tiring day. But during the night, Y/n woke up from a pounding headache which had her crying. Eddie heard her and quickly got up, which woke up Chris.

"Dad? What's going on?" Chris rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Its Y/n." He rushed to her side. "Hey, hey, what's going on, baby, talk to me." Eddie said soothingly.

"M-my head hurts so bad." Tears streamed her face. "Come here." Eddie helped her back into the bed. He handed her the pain meds and handed her a bottle water. After she drank it, she became sleepy.

Eddie climbed back into bed with Chris asleep against him and Y/n, who also had fallen back to sleep not long after.

Eddie never went back to sleep. He stayed awake making sure Y/n was alright. It didn't bother him because he was used to staying up all night when working 24 hour shifts.

The next morning, Eddie cooked breakfast while Chris and Y/n were still asleep. He heard a knock and walked over to a answer the door. "Buck, hey, come in." He stepped aside as Buck walked in. "How's Y/n?" He asked, standing with his hands in his pockets.

"She had a rough night. Her head hurt her a lot. I set up a doctor's appointment for her with the neurologist to see if anything else is wrong with her head. She just fell asleep early this morning after the pain med I gave her."

"I take it you didn't much sleep either?" He noticed the burnt toast. "Let me help, Eddie." Buck offered. Eddie stepped aside, too tired to argue. "Alright, I'm going to get Chris up and check on Y/n." He headed off to their room that they shared. He saw Chris asleep against Y/n with her arm around him.

He smiled, and quickly took a few pictures then decided to let them sleep longer. He showed Buck. "Awe, your son really does love her, huh?" He smiled that goofy smile.

"Yeah, he really does. He called her mom the other day when we were out getting lunch but she doesn't know it yet. I told him to wait until I asked her to marry me which will be on her birthday in a few weeks." Eddie smiled.

"Wow, I'm happy for you, man. Really proud too. Keep me posted on what they say about her head." Buck just put the plates on the table along with silverware. "Breakfast is done." Buck shouted, proudly.

Chris came into the kitchen shortly after, followed by Y/n. Eddie kissed her cheek. "How are you feeling, baby?" He asked.

"I feel a little bit better, still sore." Y/n smiled over at her boyfriend. He helped her sit down and handed her a plate of food. "Are you staying for breakfast, Buck?" Eddie asked.

"I can, yeah." He sat down, after getting a plate for himself. Chris was just eating away his food. Eddie watched Y/n carefully, making sure she was alright. He was still worried but didn't want to overstep her boundaries.

#eddie diaz x fem!reader #ryan guzman #911 on Fox #imagines #fanfics #one shots #headcanons #evan buck buckley #christopher diaz #henrietta wilson #bobby nash #howard han #911 fox #station 118 #LAFD

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bostonbashers · 3 years

Note

Hear me out.. How do mercs behave around a person they have a huge crush on?! :D

AAAAAA this one is so cute, i’m in love!! 🤩❤️

Scout:

literally a fucking DORK around you. tries to impress you constantly with anything and everything he has, ranging from his skill set to his appearance to his personal belongings and much more.

always finds excuses to spend time with you and it can be the most asanine ones in existence. oh? you have free time tomorrow? let’s go take a run down the street. you miss your puppy that got lost when you were a kid? let’s go to the ends of the earth to find it.

made you borrow his jacket/shirt once because he accidentally spilled a drink all over your shirt. once he saw you in it, he nearly died and didn’t want it back. takes it back anyway due to his pride and though he seems outwardly okay with it, he secretly doesn’t wash the clothing for a long while.

his flirtatious behavior around other people goes down immensely. scout becomes strictly loyal to you once his crush grows stronger and can’t bear the thought of talking with someone else, even if you don’t like him back. it just doesn’t sit with him right.

Soldier:

soldier is much softer and kinder around you. he restrains himself from using any harsh words that could hurt your feelings and tries to slow down on your training.

shows you his pets!! one of his prized possessions that he won’t allow anyone else to touch, like ever. he trusts you to love and take care of them the same way he does.

everyone has to respect you. if they even give you a slight problem, he’ll get on their case about it and probably give them hell before they could even mutter out an apology. you deserve respect and he’s gonna make sure you get nothing less.

lots of supportive comments from him! even if it’s something small, he’ll grin at you proudly and yell out a, “good job, cupcake! you did great!” while giving you a strong pat in the back or an approving nod.

Pyro:

pyro is usually sweet and kind with a certain crowd and tries to do the best they can for others, but with their crush? it’s a whole different story. they’re absolutely head over heels for them.

like a lovesick puppy; they will follow you wherever they go with a skip in their step. like, i mean they’ll follow you everywhere. “no, pyro you can’t follow me to the bathroom-!” they don’t really listen but patiently wait outside anyway.

one of the many mercs who won’t hesitate to show affection and sees nothing wrong in it. runs up to them and holds their hand firmly with a happy hum, hugs them more than usual, and just straight up gives you all their attention.

Demoman:

oh boy, if tavish has a crush on you, he’ll show it when he’s absolutely wasted. demo will literally smother you with affection regardless of where you both are and literally latch onto you every second he gets a chance to.

lots of drunk ramblings; he’ll lay his head on your shoulder or lap while he mindlessly slurs about how amazing you are, what his favorite thing is about you, and so much more.

it’s pretty obvious at that point demo likes you so you admit your liking to him pretty quick and it’s funny how shocked he gets. “ya knew i liked ya?!” yes, demo, they did.

when he’s sober, he’s much more shy with it and controls his actions a lot more. apologizes for his behavior while drunk. tavish exhibits more gentleman behavior, from opening doors to making you a decent dinner and just basically ensuring your comfortability.

Heavy:

heavy is very mature and will accept his feelings pretty quick compared to the others. it’s a 50/50 chance with him; if they feel the same, that’s great! if they don’t, then.. he’d have no choice but to move on. that’s how life works.

once he does accept it, be expecting a lot of mother hen behavior; he literally watches your every move to make sure you’re safe and healthy. even if you are, he goes out of his way to give you things whenever he knows you’re around; a homemade meal, a blanket, probably some candy. your smile is already more than enough to make up for the little things he does for you.

no one will ever dare to hurt you around heavy (or just in general, really). he senses danger and issues pretty quickly, so it’s easy for him to detect any bad intentions. he’s like that scary bodyguard who looms behind you, glaring at anyone who radiates rancid vibes to scare them away.

Medic:

probably takes a while to accept or realize it cause he’s always so preoccupied in his lab, being busy and all. but once he does realize it, it’s sort of foreign to him at first, so of course, he goes to heavy to speak about his emotions. after being told it was a crush, he pays attention to you a lot more than usual, sometimes even without him noticing.

he gets all giddy when you’re around and although it’s not the jumpy, squealing giddy, it’s certainly one shown through happy greetings and continuous conversations that seem to be never ending. (you don’t mind though)

makes up random appointments and checkups for the smallest things just to see you and gets very, very excited whenever you decide to come to visit him without his knowledge. nearly drops everything just to attend to you.

he talks to archimedes so much about you that his precious pet basically knows who you are based off his owners reactions and automatically flies to you whenever you enter his lab. that bird is a lot smarter than you think. they get along with you pretty well and medic melts whenever he sees you talk to his birds like he does and play with them.

Sniper:

bless his heart, the poor man will literally faint around his crush. just the sight of them flusters him to his core, and don’t even get me started on their little habits and that godforsaken smile. [hes literally almost died when they grinned at him]

he’s already so reserved and quiet as he is, but around them, it’s even worse. he’s always so scared he’s gonna scare them away or say something stupid, but he eventually lets go of the fear and tries to muster up the courage to talk to you.

once he does, he spends a lot of his time with you, often inviting you out to drive around with him or just simply sit outside and enjoy the breeze. he talks a lot more than usual and though he doesn’t completely open up about his past just yet, he does indirectly hint that he trusts you more than anyone in his life.

lots of sleepless nights when he realizes he’s in love. he does everything to take you off his mind but all fails in the end and he’s kept wide awake thinking about what you two could be. from then on, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep his cool around you and silently begs you’ll confess one day or he’ll lose it.

Engineer:

sweetheart mode: activated. like it’s not a big switch up, since he’s naturally a gentleman but it’s noticeable enough. you’ll notice that your nicknames will start slowly forming to more romantic ones and how he blushes with a smile everytime it leaves his lips.

the other mercs can tell when dell has a crush; he blushes a lot more than usual and they catch him smiling more than once by himself. they realize it when you approach him and he automatically fixes himself to look presentable without a second breath. his voice also changes to a much happier and giddy tone, it’s so cute!

stares at you from a distance a lot or whenever you’re distracted with something. half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing so but once he catches himself, he blushes and looks away, silently telling himself to quit it. often you’ll catch him staring at you, but you ignore it for his sake and laugh to yourself when he smiles back and waves shyly.

Spy:

takes a long while before he actually accepts the crush, seeing that he’s a very secretive and reserved person but once he does, you best believe you’ll be spoiled and loved by this man. lots of gentleman behavior!! opening doors, buying you gifts, giving you his coat, and all that fancy stuff.

teases you a lot more than he should; he enjoys your reactions. he’ll lean in close enough where your fingers brush slightly, tilt your chin up when he talks to you and makes intense eye contact while doing so. whenever he gets too close or the moment gets too tense, he backs away with a smirk and pretends as if nothing happens.

he listens to you and anything you have on your mind. his door is literally open for you 24/7 and even if you come knocking at 3 am, he’ll let you in and listen to what you have to say. you think he’s not listening cause he’s very unresponsive but when you’re finished and about to leave, he gives really good advice and tells you quietly that he’s there for you in an indirect way. depending how close he is to you, he’ll let out an experience or two about him to put you at comfort and as thanks for confiding in him. he then walks you back to your room with a simple nod and goodnight.

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

A continuation of NHS invites WWX to JYL's wedding, and what happened there? Perhaps about how the estemed Hanguang Jun ended up running off and eloping with the Nie sect heir's intended?

continuation of that short fic, now it’s own fic on ao3

Plus One - Chapter 2

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, sidling up to his brother and his two sworn brothers now that they’d finally gotten to the party part of the wedding and they could all huddle up in a corner to be anti-social together.

Or, well, for Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen to be anti-social and for Jin Guangyao to be forcefully restrained from attempting to perform hosting duties, which he incessantly tried to do - it was like he had no idea what servants were for. Which Nie Huaisang supposed was understandable, given everything, but the way Jin Guangshan encouraged him to do it certainly wasn’t.

“So,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice only mildly ominous in a way that suggested, to Nie Huaisang at least, that he was still finding this whole thing incredibly funny.

Accordingly, Nie Huaisang ignored him. “How much do you think I can milk being horribly dumped?” he asked. “Because I think I’m about to be horribly dumped.”

“By your new ‘intended’?” Lan Xichen said, looking amused. “Really, Huaisang, I don’t know what you were thinking by bringing him.”

“Uh, that he deserves to attend his shijie’s wedding? Obviously?”

“But to bring him to Lanling…”

“He’s my guest,” Nie Huaisang said haughtily, bringing out his fan and doing his best ‘rich young master who is better than this and is most certainly above your petty questions’ Jin sect impression. “You aren’t suggesting that the Jin sect would take back an invitation they freely issued, would they? Or breach the rules of hospitality?”

“Huaisang, Xichen didn’t mean it that way and you know it,” his brother said, sounding annoyed, but in his relaxed run-of-the-mill ‘I hate parties’ type of annoyance, rather than specifically about his behavior. “Obviously the Jin sect won’t do anything about it. Regardless of any other considerations, anything they did would be refusing to show our Nie sect face, and then I’d have to make an issue of it.”

He sounded wistful. Probably thinking about how he could use it as an excuse to storm out and go home early.

“We’re only worried about you, Huaisang,” Jin Guangyao murmured, looking remarkably calm for someone who was definitely (if unobtrusively) being blocked from leaving by two very tall men with excessive mother hen tendencies. “You’re all grown up now, not a child – you need to think about the political implications your actions might have. Aren’t you concerned about your brother’s reaction?”

Huaisang was about to explain that he’d gotten his brother’s permission, but then he remembered that they were in Lanling, full of spies, so he decided to tell Jin Guangyao about that later.

“It’s not my problem that Sect Leader Nie has to think about politics at what should be a happy family event,” he said instead, nose in the air, and Lan Xichen frowned even as Nie Mingjue sighed, probably at Nie Huaisang’s total lack of caring about even the basic obligations of etiquette. Or possibly his reference to their little inside joke, but these were his sworn brothers, so they’d have to figure out sooner or later that Sect Leader Nie and Nie Mingjue weren’t always the same. “Besides, that isn’t what I asked. I asked about how long I can milk my terrible heartbreaking break up.”

“I thought you were getting dumped?” his brother asked, passing him a jar of wine. A good brother, even if he was mocking him.

“Getting dumped leads to a break-up,” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Wei-xiong is a thankless white-eyed wolf who was just using me with absolutely no consideration of my tender feelings.”

“You have tender feelings?” his brother said. “Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

Nie Huaisang kicked him in the shin.

As usual, it had no impact whatsoever on his brother and only hurt his own toes, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Huaisang,” Lan Xichen said, his voice oddly gentle, even softer than normal. “Did you – really – for Wei Wuxian –”

Nie Huaisang, who’d been taking a drink of wine, nearly choked. “Er-ge,” he said, mildly horrified. “Please. Wei-xiong is a very handsome gentleman, fearless and dashing, with all the skills one might ask for in a son-in-law –”

“Brother-in-law,” his brother muttered, as if he hadn’t been Nie Huaisang’s de facto father figure for years.

“– and, yes, I suppose we have similar tastes in drinking, carousing, and pornography –”

“Of course you do,” Jin Guangyao said, looking up at the ceiling as if it would hide how his lips were twitching.

“– but let us not forget: he lives in a trash heap. With Wen sect. I have standards!”

“I thought he was marrying in?” Lan Xichen asked, smiling again now that he had confirmed that there was no actual heart-breaking occurring in the vicinity. “He’d live in the Unclean Realm that way, wouldn’t he?”

“He would not,” Nie Mingjue put in. “I don’t care if they’re all enlightened saints that do nothing but charity all day, no one surnamed Wen is living in my home.”

“You see what I’m up against?” Nie Huaisang said, holding out his hands in appeal to his brother’s sworn brothers. “My da-ge doesn’t understand, he’s only good for swinging a saber! How cruel and heartless must a man be to stand in the way of true love?”

Lan Xichen covered his smile with his sleeve. Jin Guangyao pressed his lips together in such a way that made his cheeks especially round and quivering with suppressed laughter, like a mouse stuffing its face to bulging with rice.

“Er-ge, you wouldn’t be nearly this cruel if it were you, would you?” Nie Huaisang asked, reaching out and tugging said sleeve. “You’d be kind and generous about it – I bet you’d find them a nice little place to live, maybe next to those foothills you’re always saying you want someone to use but that you’re not willing to sell…”

“Were you planning on moving in with er-ge after your marriage, then?” Jin Guangyao asked. He looked much more amused and relaxed now – maybe he’d been stressing over this being some sort of scheme and was feeling much better now that he realized it was actually just Nie Huaisang’s nonsense. His paranoia had always been deeply endearing. “I don’t think your brother will like that.”

“Not me,” Nie Huaisang said, rolling his eyes at him. “But if it was Lan Zhan sweeping him away, er-ge would definitely support him. Right, er-ge?”

“I always support my brother,” Lan Xichen said with a smile.

“Good,” Nie Huaisang said, taking another swallow of wine. “Because he and Wei Wuxian just had a very intense conversation in a secluded corner that ended with them kissing and running off together, so it’s about to become your problem.”

Nie Mingjue choked, Jin Guangyao’s jaw dropped, and Lan Xichen’s eyes got really big.

“Not joking,” Nie Huaisang clarified cheerfully. “Totally serious.”

“Excuse me,” Lan Xichen said, getting up very quickly. “I need to – go see –”

He didn’t even bother finishing the sentence before rushing off.

“Go with him,” Nie Mingjue said to Jin Guangyao, who blinked owlishly at him. “It’s going to be a shitshow, isn’t it? Politically, I mean.”

“Uh,” Jin Guangyao said.

“Really, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “The notorious ostracized-by-the-cultivation-world demonic cultivator Wei Wuxian, the Yiling Patriarch, is abruptly reintroduced to society as my intended bride, only to be stolen away by the Lan sect’s Second Jade, the second most desirable bachelor in the cultivation world, in the middle of a wedding party thrown by Lanling Jin? I have no idea why you think this would so much as raise an eyebrow.”

“That’s a lot of words to say ‘shitshow’, which is why I didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Meng Yao – Jin Guangyao – oh, fuck it, A-Yao, someone is going to need to keep their head about them and think about the political implications long enough to keep Xichen from getting himself into serious trouble, and you’re better at it than I am. Go help him. I’ll cover for you two here.”

Jin Guangyao still looked torn.

“Don’t listen to da-ge, he’s worrying too much,” Nie Huaisang volunteered his own opinion. “How much trouble can the Lan sect really get into over a matter of love?”

“I’m going at once,” Jin Guangyao said, and ran after Lan Xichen.

A moment later, Nie Huaisang handed the jar of wine back to his brother.

“Well done,” he said, voice much more neutral than it had been a moment before. “Assuming your goal was to deprive Sect Leader Jin of san-ge’s assistance while we define the situation to make it come out the way we want.”

“Couldn’t have done it without your timely assist,” Nie Mingjue said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He did so hate politics, and he hated being good at it even more. Truly there was nothing better, in Nie Huaisang’s opinion, than forcing his brother to relent and give in to the sneaky bastard half of his heritage. “Anyway, Sect Leader Jin is drunk and his heir is the groom, and thus occupied. It’s only reasonable that I, as the person with the next highest status, take charge of dispersing the news.”

“And by ‘dispersing the news’ you mean rehabilitate Wei-xiong’s reputation, get him reinstated in the Jiang sect, and arrange an appropriate marriage between him and Lan Zhan before anyone can complain about an inappropriate elopement, of course.”

“It’s called being efficient, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said.

“It’s called creating a countervailing alliance to the Jiang-Jin sect connection, getting both the Jiang sect and the Yiling Patriarch to owe our sect a favor – not to mention the Lan sect, too! – and conveniently also undercutting Sect Leader Jin’s authority just at the moment he’s trying to install himself as the new ruler of the cultivation world.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said, finishing off the jar and putting it down. “I’m far too stupid to be considering any of that. Only good for swinging a saber, remember?”

Nie Huaisang sniggered.

“Yes, I remember,” he said. “You won a whole war against a much stronger, more numerous, and more unified force on Baxia’s strength alone, no brains required. How can I help? You want me crying or excited?”

“Whatever you think is best, Huaisang.” His brother solidified his scowling angry face, just the sort of thing a dumb brute might wear when dealing with politics that he was far too ignorant to understand. “Let’s go right some injustices, shall we?”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #jin guangyao #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #plus one #mentalcarebear

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

“Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” – a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it. “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

#fanfiction #songfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #avenger reader #shield agent reader #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #walk me home tonight #anika ann

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Hayloft (p.2)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Abuse, drunkenness, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead, decapitating a chicken, reader is kind of emotional in this chapter

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

Part 1

_____________________

Work had passed fairly quickly as it always did when you had the opening shift. It sure sucked having to arrive at five o’clock in the morning but at least you got off earlier and you knew that that way you could grab groceries before your father got home and could yell at you about an empty kitchen again. By two o’clock in the afternoon, you were home again, hopping out of your truck and grabbing as many bags as you could in one go.

The loud sound of metal slamming against metal shook you and you flinched, looking between your door and the frame to see Arvin walking out towards you. It hadn’t occurred to you that his car was even in your driveway. After so many years of having busted broken down old cars sitting there that your dad had been swearing he’d fix for almost ten years, cars in the driveway seemed normal. “Let me give you a hand,” he offered as he got closer, lifting the canvas bags from your hands before you could object.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you felt the weight suddenly taken off your own arms, “Thank you.” You dove back into the truck to grab the last two bags before slamming it shut with your hips. The two of you began your stroll towards the front door, the dirt driveway kicking up around your feet. “You’re back early.” You noted, looking over at Arvin.

He shrugged, “Yeah, uh, Wallace had me on the early shift today.”

You fumbled with the bags as you tried to unlock the door, kicking it open with your toes when it finally gave in. You walked into your home and Arvin followed, closing the door behind him. “Been here long? I didn’t see you in the driveway.”

“Not too long. I just didn’t want to let myself into your home without nobody there.” Arvin set the bags on the counter next to where you set yours.

You began to unpack the bags and put the groceries in the respective places. Arvin watched off to the side, unsure of how your kitchen was organized so he was worried he’d do more than good if he stepped in. “My daddy got the late shift?”

Arvin shook his head, noticing that his beat up old hat was still on his head despite being indoors and took it off immediately, his tousled brown curls parting messily down the middle. “No, we went in at the same time. He ‘n some buddies said they was goin’ to some bar in town.”

He watched your shoulders fall a little and you sighed, “Figures…. You didn’t go?”

Again, Arvin shook his head, “No. No offense to your daddy but I don’t like to drink the way I get the feelin’ he does.”

You snorted, turning to him with a knowing chuckle, “Let’s just say that I’m sorry in advance for whatever he says or does when he gets home, if he gets home. Sheriff Pike might end up callin’ in the mornin’ tellin’ us to pick him up.” Though it was stated as a joke, Arvin could hear the tragic reality behind your words.

Arvin then noticed the pack of beer bottles that you were pulling out of the bag. As if you could feel his eyes looking at you with worried curiosity, you glanced over at him, noticing the way his eyes flicked between you and the beer in your hands. You offered a sad shrug, “I know what you’re thinkin’ but trust me. Sometimes it’s better to have him drunk and possibly content than sober and angry there’s nothing to drink. Besides, the beer is better than the hard stuff with ‘im.”

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be makin’ faces. Your business is your business,” Arvin backpedalled, giving you an apologetic nod.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry. I know how it looks. I’m sorry you gotta see all of it. I been tryin’ to keep to keep him calm but if you end up stayin’ a while, I’m sure you’ll get to see him at his worse times.”

Arvin chewed his lip as he contemplated whether or not to bring up what had been going through his mind but he had to make sure you were alright. “I-I heard you ‘n your dad talkin’ last night… right after you left my room.”

Your face fell as you realized what he was talking about, “You weren’t s’posed to hear that. I’m sorry.” Shit, this was what you were hoping to avoid.

“Are you alright?”

Gentle. Caring. His tone was something that had been long lost to you in this house and it took the words out of your mouth for a moment. It was embarrassing, the way your heart welled up with… well love wasn’t quite the right word but the warmth of being cared about. Not since after your mother had passed had you heard somebody actually care about how you felt.

You just nodded and gave a forced smile that you could tell was easy to see through but it was the best you could muster. For someone who was able to take so much shit from their father and was able to look the man who would throw things at you and grab you by the hair dead in the eye with nothing but contempt, it was compassion that made you crumble. It had been so unexpected, especially from Arvin, the stranger living in your house.

“Shit, ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean to - I didn’t mean to overstep. I only…” He stammered over his words and at first you were confused until you felt the single hot tear tracing its way down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shocked at your own uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. You hadn’t realized until now that you had zoned out on the ground while Arvin’s words repeated in your head but now a flash of embarrassment ran through you. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sniffled once before giving a small laugh of disbelief. “It’s just… It’s been a long time since anybody asked that.”

You straightened up and ran your hands through your hair, eyes closed as you thought of what else you needed to do. Thankfully, if your dad was at the bar, you had at least another four hours to just you and Arvin, all night if you were lucky, though you seldom were. That was when the feeling of dread set in. Your dad had requested chicken roast for dinner tonight and whether he came home early and only a few beers in or you had to drive him home hungover in the morning, the man would be furious if there weren’t at least reheated leftovers for him. You had to kill Patty and prep her for dinner.

“You okay?” Arvin asked again, though this time it was in reference to the way a heavy look fell over your features. It wasn’t a profound deep question like it was earlier.

Your head wavered from side to side and your lips twisted, “My daddy asked for chicken roast tonight. I gotta go out and fix Patty up.” You tried to put it lightly though it felt anything but. “I’ll be out in the coop. You’re more than welcome to clean up in the shower or do whatever you’d like ‘round the house. The radio is in the livin’ room if you wanna tune into somethin’.”

You pushed yourself off the counter and walked to the door in your kitchen that led out to the backyard but Arvin made a few steps to follow, “Is it alright if I keep you company? It don’t feel right bein’ in your house without you or your daddy here.”

You smiled at the thought of him staying with you and you nodded, continuing out the door, “Sure, c’mon.”

The hen house wasn’t very far from the back door. From there, you could see the several acres of land that your father was wasting. Your grandparents had bought this land in the late 1910’s and had started up a little farm of their own to sell locally, though your father had abandoned the farming portion after they died. It was where your daddy had grown up and then where you had as well. God, how you missed your grandparents. Your grandmother’s soft words of love and kindness but sternness and willingness to swat your butt with a wooden spoon if you got an attitude (though she would yell at your father if he ever tried to discipline you - “Now you leave that poor baby alone!”). Your grandfather had looked like a rough and angry old man from years of hard work but he had the softest heart of anyone you’d ever met. How the two of them had raised your father was beyond you.

When you approached the wired fence and jiggled the lock open, the chickens inside stood surprisingly still. They trusted you. You could see it in their little brown eyes. You were safe and warm and didn’t want to harm them. You came in for the unfertilized eggs they laid and left, oftentimes with some seed and a soft pat or two on the head. Patty, a fat white hen with black specks, walked comfortably around your feet, nuzzling her head against your leg. She was the nicest hen you’d ever had. She trusted you.

God, you were about to cry again. You bent down to pick her up and you held her against your chest, trying to look her in the eye, though it was difficult when she kept jerking it in different directions. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” you murmured low. Usually it was your father that would slaughter the hens if he really wanted the meat that badly. You had never done it yourself but he’d made you watch every time so that you knew how if the time ever came. Each time it made you sick to your stomach.

Already, you felt green. The unassuming hen that you had been friendly enough to for her not flip out when you held her was none the wiser that her life was about to end by your hand. You glanced over to the large wood round just ahead and the axe that was leaned up against it.

Your face contorted as you realized how much you disliked the placement. The way your father would slaughter chickens right in front of their friends made your heart break. It was barbaric.

You walked over to Arvin and held Patty out towards him, “Would you mind holdin’ onto her for a second?”

Though visibly confused, he took the chicken from your hands, drawing back when her wings fluttered out at the contact with the new strange man. Arvin watched as you walked towards the large round and tried to push it with all your might. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m-” you grunted, feeling it slide slowly, inch by inch, “trying to move it where the other chickens can’t see.” You took another moment to use all your force against it before standing up straight and breathing heavily, “I know it sounds dumb cause they’re only chickens but it feels cruel to make ‘em watch, y’know?” You went back to pushing the round and Arvin approached behind you.

From here he could see the blood stains in the wood. It looked as if the blood had been washed off but the wood had been stained crimson regardless. There was also a divot where an axe had clearly been driven down many times over the years, chipping away at the wood.

Arvin’s heart actually warmed a little at your attempt to show mercy and your willingness to go out of your way to spare some chickens’ feelings. It wasn’t something he was sure he’d do himself but when he heard you say it, he realized you had a point. It was cruel to imprison a bunch of animals and then lead them out one by one to be slaughtered in front of everyone, each animal waiting their turn. “Here, take ‘er back. Let me.” Arvin stepped in, handing Patty back over to you and bending down to lift the round onto its side with much effort. The wood had to weigh at least a hundred pounds and had long since settled into the ground where it had been placed when you were a child.

Your eyes widened as you watched his biceps bulge, straining the material of his blue t-shirt. You’d never seen a man with muscles like that before and you found your eyes trailing along his arms, following every popping vein from the tops of his hands, up his forearms, and onto his biceps until they disappeared beneath his shirt. It was something you hadn’t expected to see in him. Arvin looked like a quiet, polite, hardworking young man but you never would have imagined the immaculate muscles he possessed. You found your mind wandering to what other surprises laid in store beneath all those layers he wo-

You needed to calm yourself down. If only he could hear your thoughts, he surely would be furious and disgusted with you. You hadn’t had such impure thoughts since that one time you had been messing around with Jimmy Bates in the backseat of his old car back in your senior year of high school. The two of you didn’t even go all the way but you went far enough and the guilt ate you alive since the two of you were never officially together anyways. He was just the cute boy from high school that you had pined over years that had finally given you the chance right before he shipped off to join the war.

“This alright?” Arvin asked, shaking you from your fantasy, and you snapped back into reality to realize he had rolled the wood round around the side of the coop behind the wooden wall, outside of the other chickens’ views.

You nodded and walked over to him, “That’s perfect. Thank you so much for doin’ that. I know it’s sorta stupid.”

Arvin shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, “If it means somethin’ to you, it ain’t stupid at all. Besides, now that you pointed it out, it was a little barbaric.”

You smiled up at him, one which he returned. How was this boy so damn nice? Was this some cosmic way of the universe finally giving you something good in your life? You’d become so calloused to your father’s harsh words and barked commands that you had forgotten how nice it was to feel cared about and validated. And you barely knew him.

“‘M glad you think so.” You looked down at Patty in your arms and any good feelings you’d had melted to sadness and fear. “You been a good girl, Patty. I know you struggled with layin’ eggs for a while but you were always a good girl. Never bit me once unlike some of them other hens.” You weren’t often very soft and vulnerable but you were about to take something’s life for the first time and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that on your heart. If this were a life or death situation, you would feel better about it, but it wasn’t. The only reason Patty had to die was because your father would throw a fit if she didn’t.

You carried her to the log and gave her a little kiss on the top of the head, “Please don’t hate me but I understand if you do. Say hi to my momma for me, will you? Tell her I love and miss her.” You set her down and got her in the position you always saw your dad put the other chickens in before he chopped their heads off. Arvin handed you the axe with uncertainty but watched on as you struggled to bring yourself to finish the deed.

You held her down and you could tell by the way she was flailing that she was panicking now. Patty was well aware of what was happening. “I’m sorry!” You choked, tears welling up in your eyes as her panic began to turn into your own panic. How did people do this? Why was this so freaking difficult?

Tossing the axe slightly in your hand, you readjusted the handle and just as you went to swing, Arvin piped up, “I can do it.”

You looked over at him, the afternoon sun reflecting the tears in your eyes and making the color of your irises stand out in tragic beauty. “I-I- Would you really not mind?” You breathed out in relief.

Arvin stepped forward and you handed the axe out to him, “I don’t mind.” You held onto Patty until Arvin could position her just right as well. He had no idea what he was doing - he’d never had to slaughter a chicken before. He had heard that all you had to do was cut their head off though and then he’d heard the rumors of them running around like crazy even after their head hit the ground. How hard could it be?

Once he had the hen pinned down where he wanted her, he looked up to see you chewing on your thumb, brows knitted in discomfort. It wasn’t the first chicken you’d watched get slaughtered but it was far from something you enjoyed observing. Arvin signaled to you with a nod before raising the axe above his head and you shut your eyes tight, flinching at the sound of the old metal head thudding into the old wood.

You had the carcass sitting in the sink while you pulled off the blood soaked feathers, depositing them into the trash bin by the handful. This part was easier for you, something you’d done many times in the past. “Thank you for doin’ that. I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”

Arvin sat at the kitchen table behind you, “You ain’t a baby just cause you don’t like to kill things. I’d say it’s probably rather normal.”

The time was inching closer to four o’clock now and the sun was beginning to hang ever so slightly lower in the sky, the precursor to sunset. It was warm outside and a cool spring breeze blew in through the open window above the sink. You snickered as you pulled another handful of feathers out, “Yeah? That mean you ain’t normal?” You looked over at him with a playful glint in your eye but your smile fell when you saw an uncomfortable look cross his face, almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“I ain’t never said I liked killin’ either.” Arvin attempted to match your joking tone but it was pretty evident there was a weight behind his words.

“Hey, I‘m sorry. I was only jokin’.” A pang of guilt washed over you but it was only that. A joke. You hadn’t imagined teasing him over something like killing a chicken would set him off, especially since he volunteered to do it for you, but apparently you were wrong.

Arvin sniffed and scratched his nose, “I know.” After a moment of awkward silence, he stood, “Let me give you a hand. What do you need done?”

You scanned his face once more to make sure he was really okay but you decided to drop it when you saw his insistent look. You shook your head, “I got it. It ain’t much after I get this all gutted and cleaned.” You picked up the mostly featherless carcass by the wings and plopped it back down into the sink.

“Well ‘m sure there’s vegetables or somethin’ else that goes with it, right? Let me start cuttin’ those up.” His persistence was adorable, making your heart flutter in the most wonderful way. The idea of a man actually being helpful was unknown to you before Arvin. Your life had been filled with your dad’s drunken bossings since you were twelve years old. You couldn’t remember the last time a genuinely kind voice offered you anything more than a smile on the street, not that you took that for granted. Arvin was just different though. Noble and helpful and kind.

“You really don’t have to-”

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that but I really do want to help. So what can I do to make things easier on you?” He took a few steps closer to you until you felt the beginning of what could have been sparks if he stepped any nearer, like when you hold two magnets a few inches apart and you can feel the energy between them, that hint of attraction, but it’s not quite close enough to pull them together.

The blush in your cheeks at his simple gesture made you break the eye contact with a nervous laugh of retreat, “Okay, fine. If you’re gonna be so insistent,” you drew out with a teasing drawl, “you can cut up veggies. There’s potatoes over there and carrots and zucchini in the fridge.”

Arvin’s lips turned up in a small smile when you finally resigned your stubborn ways and he went off to find the vegetables where you had directed him.

Needless to say, when your father came home from the bar to find you and Arvin talking over a song by the Platters playing on the radio with Arvin cleaning up the dishes while you tossed together the vegetables and the seasoning, he was less than pleased.

“What the hell is going on here?” His slurred speech made your eyes widen in fear. He was supposed to get home later like he always did. But then you found yourself chiding your irresponsibility. Why the hell would you take that chance? You knew better than to let Arvin help out and now you were gonna pay.

Arvin sensed the way you tensed up beside him and watched as you spun around to face your father with haste, “Just finishin’ up dinner now. Should be ready by six so you got more than enough time to take a sho-”

“Why the fuck is he doin’ the dishes?” You father was leaning against the wall, clearly relying on the structure for support. This wasn’t the time to test him, not with Arvin here. It was times like this when he’d start throwing stuff at you.

Before you could say anything, Arvin piped up firmly but respectfully, “I offered, sir. It’s no problem at all.”

Your dad pointed at Arvin, “A man ain’t got no place with his hands in a sink of dishes. You leave that shit to her and she’ll just grab you a beer.” He stumbled over his own feet before catching himself ungracefully.

Arvin’s jaw set tightly and you gripped the countertop with white knuckles behind you. Times like this, you weren’t even sure what to say anymore. No amount of standing up for yourself got you anywhere with him. You never made any headway with your dad’s sexist views on gender roles. It was pointless. The only thing to do was try and work your way to supporting yourself so you could get the hell out of dodge and never look back.

Arvin’s voice surprised you, “A man’s place is helpin’ out the women in his life when they need, not leavin’ ‘em to do all the housework themselves.” You nearly choked on your own tongue at his words. It was a bold statement for a man to make, especially to the head of the house that was being so gracious as to host him free of charge, but he didn’t back down. It appeared like the jab was lost on your drunken father but Arvin continued with a slightly less accusatory comment to diffuse the situation regardless, “I grew up helpin’ my grandma with all the house chores so I really don’t mind at all.”

You watched the way your dad eyed Arvin and then you before scoffing and grumbling incoherently as he shuffled his way into the living room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I don’t want you gettin’ kicked out ‘cause of me. You didn’t have to say nothin’.”

Arvin glared at where your father had disappeared and nodded, “Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve all the shit he gives you.”

You suddenly found yourself avoiding his eyes and twisting your lips. He was right and you were well aware of that fact. The abuse your dad put you through was uncalled for at best. The fact that Arvin had actually taken the time to not only notice the same fact but acknowledge it and stand up for you was something you never thought you’d hear someone do. It made you uncomfortable. You’d been fighting this battle by yourself for so long that letting somebody even know it was being waged was enough to make you want to sink away. Even so, a part of you wanted to let Arvin keep standing up for you. It made you feel weak after having to stand up for yourself for so long but also validated.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a moment before turning back towards dinner that sat in a roasting pan on the stove, “Thank you.”

______

Taglist:

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x you #Arvin Russell #arvin rus #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics #Hayloft

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kcatta-wodahs · 4 years

Text

MC Who Does Not Fear Death x OM! Demon Brothers

Or maiming, or apparently any other consequences. You’ve walked into this situation with absolutely no filter and no fear. Time to tear down every structure of Devildom society.

Lucifer

You look at him with a withering stare when he tries to intimidate you into behaving.

“I was summoned out of my trashy apartment to this place, where literally anyone could snap me like a twig on accident. I’m just working on the assumption that I’m already dead.”

He sternly looks at you. “You’re under my protection during your time here. No harm will come to you.”

You snort derisively, which visibly irritates him. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t come back to haunt you if it happens.”

As you continue through your life in Devildom he keeps calling you out for meddling and all that, like usual, and he HATES that you literally *do not care* when he threatens you.

Like HE knows that he wouldn’t hurt Diavolo’s transfer student but YOU are supposed to be AFRAID of him dammit.

His frustration at this ends up turning into a form of respect. You’re about the only person who will stand up to him, and tbh like you’re so fucking fragile but you’ll yell at him all day? That takes guts. Annoying guts. But you’ve got guts.

But also STOP IT. He has enough stress in his life and now he’s constantly terrified that you’ve decided it’s a great idea to adopt a baby balrog

Which you did once. He’s just afraid that “Flamin Hot Cheeto” is going to come back since you somehow managed to imprint on it.

despite the fact that the BABY could easily tear your arms off on accident

Not to mention he gets the flack for EVERY SINGLE ONE of these following stories. You stress him out so much. Please. Please, stop.

He’s almost to the point of begging. The Avatar of Pride is three steps away from either locking you away for the rest of the year or begging on his knees for you to calm down.

But you know you’d find a way out if he locked you up so no worries. It’ll be a good challenge.

Mammon

“Well you WON’T be dead because it’s my job to protect you! Are you doubting the Great Mammon?!”

Stupid human. Yeah, you’re fragile and weak, but that’s why HE’S your bodyguard now, and there’s no way in hell (lol) that he would let you die on his watch.

Lucifer would kill him.

You welcome the challenge, and he thinks it’s funny at first but quickly becomes a flustered mother hen.

“NO, we are NOT going out to Madam Scream’s at 3am! Do ya know what kinda CREEPS are out there at 3am?!”

And you sneak out the fucking window.

He has had more heart attacks in the past week than he has had in the last 100 years of life.

He starts agreeing to your ridiculous adventures JUST because then he can actually keep an eye on you.

He adores the chaos of the laugh that bursts from you every time you narrowly escape death.

He HATES how often you have to NARROWLY ESCAPE DEATH. So he will never tell you.

He almost doesn’t have time for his own shenanigans anymore, because all his time is taken up by trying to make sure you stay alive.

And you’ve figured out that if you turn *any* of your ideas into a money-making one, he will join you whole-heartedly.

So you bribe him because what’s money to you anymore anyway?

Leviathan

I mean he doesn’t leave his room much, so tbh he probably just gets texts from you that make him want to scream.

‘hey uh levi say if someone were to hypothetically be stuck in a succubus’ devil basement to become an unwilling sacrifice to asmo what would that person, hypothetically, do?’

‘probably die’ is usually all he sends back

You always come back, because he always sends a text to the other brothers. In that case Asmo came to rescue you himself and scold the succubus.

You become the friend that he makes funny throwing-shade reddit posts about. (Devvit? Devil reddit? Eh??)

‘Levi so this has nothing to do with anything but is there a cure for a dangerously potent ‘always win at rock-paper-scissors' curse? Asking for a friend’

‘Friend is being held hostage tho so maybe be quick about a response’

He didn’t even know that kind of curse existed. None of them did. What the fuck did you do.

How did you get taken captive by playing rock paper scissors?

He doesn’t know. Nobody does. He expects the play-by-play so he can recommend it as a new anime to his favorite producers.

Somehow your chaotic plans end up with stories almost as great as TSL.

Beelzebub

He physically carries you around.

He’s like “fuck this you can’t get into trouble if I’m holding you.”

If Beel’s on MC watching duty, he’s almost the only one who is successful, just because you physically cannot get away.

But at the same time, he is very easily bribed.

So yes, he’ll go to Madam Scream’s with you at 3am. Sounds like fun.

But he is very protective after losing someone he cares about (who you remind him of so much….) so he keeps you close when you’re out and about too.

If you start getting into a fight with some other demon he literally just takes the fight for you and wins with no trouble at all.

You like having Beel with you.

Especially finding street festivals! You’re in a whole new world and there’s a MILLION things to try. Beel is more than happy to try them with you.

But that leads to arguments about whether deadly creatures to humans are still deadly when dead.

“No, you can’t eat that it’s on fire. I know even small fires hurt humans. I’ll eat it for you.”

“That hot sauce makes every demon I know cry. You really shouldn’t buy a bottle. Please. No, don’t try it. No, that’s too much for one-- oh. Oh no.”

He forgives you as long as you don’t actually get hurt and you give him your leftovers.

Asmodeus

“If I get wrinkles because of you I promise you will never hear the end of it. I will curse you forever.”

He swears on every single one of his lovers that you have started giving him grey hairs.

GREY HAIRS, MC.

Why can’t you just settle down and let them all take care of you? You don’t have to prove anything to the other demons!

But you will. You’re living in Devildom now, and by everything unholy, you are going to live that life to its fullest extent.

He was thrilled at first when you were all for joining him at his nightclubs and parties. Now he hides every party’s date from you.

That time you almost threw yourself off a balcony to try and emulate a very drunk demon’s newest dance move.

“I need to stay TRENDY, Asmo!! I’ll be fine!!”

Ever since learning Demonus doesn’t affect humans you have challenged every single stuck-up tough boy to a drinking contest.

And every single time you win, Asmo has had to *narrowly* save you from being killed by said demon.

And you just say “he deserved it” every time.

And like, yeah okay, he probably did but YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE.

Somehow, you manage to out-party Asmo.

dON’T TELL THE OTHERS but he lives for the times when you practically fall asleep on his shoulder while coming home from a rager. You may not get drunk, but when you’re sleepy, you’re so affectionate and something in his heart melts.

Satan

At first, Satan was all for the rebellious “life life with no restraints” thought process you explained to him.

I mean, he didn’t like the assumption that he and his brothers couldn’t control themselves to not accidentally kill you, but also… fair.

But he didn’t realize that this mindset followed through for EVERY demon in ANY place.

Including RAD, where old and wizened demons were *really* not used to being contradicted

Which led to you “accidentally insulting” your 5000 year old Human Studies professor by giving them a pop quiz on current memes (which they failed).

And left Satan as the one who had to make sure that said professor didn’t kill you.

And the thing is, this keeps happening.

You’ve written all over the school’s library books, pointing out every error.

You *continue* to argue with the demons who threaten to kill you when you say silly things like “No, Solomon did not learn his sorcery at Hogwarts because Hogwarts isn’t REAL.”

(Solomon, meanwhile, refutes you vehemently and seems to grow three inches taller every time you glare at him.)

Satan assures you that he values knowledge and truth and all that, but could you maybe find a less dangerous way to push it?

No can do, Satan, because you already had plans with Mammon to use a curse that writes the history of the actual Sorceric Academy that Solomon attended like 400 years all over the desks in Human Studies. It’s activated by anyone saying “Hogwarts”.

No, no, Satan, it’s brilliant, because you can’t do magic. It can’t be you who did it.

Satan, no don’t tell Lucifer.

I thought you hated him. Satan, wait.

You are the only person in the history of ever who convinces him to come to Lucifer for intervention. You wear that badge with pride and also deep, deep, bitter sadness.

Belphegor

Like, through the plot your willingness to be a thorn in anyone’s side just to get more information really works for Belphie.

He’s like all I gotta do is ask? Sweet. Yeah. Go, human.

But then when he’s all big and threatening and “im gonna kill you” and you just kind of look at him and nod like “yeah, this checks out.”

Frankly, that’s rude, MC.

And then he keeps threatening to kill you and it doesn’t even PHASE you like. You just keep listening to him rant and going “OH i think i get it now”

He liked that you were always looking for more information when he was the one pushing you around, but now?

No. Human, he is going to KILL you here, STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

And then you do the time-travel bit, and see that he *literally has killed you in one timeline* and you just like

Shrug it off and keep talking about Lilith???????

Tbh what probably stopped him from doing it again is just that you’re fucking insane, MC

“MC, you literally just saw yourself dead in Mammon’s arms”

You wave your hand vaguely in his direction and say, “Yeah okay, but can we talk about the lack of communication in this household because it is tearing this family apart.”

What the fuck MC

When he’s back to normal, tbh he loves that side of you. He loves getting into shit when he’s not sleeping. He will 100% encourage you and be there to make sure that you *don’t* actually die again.

He’s the only one who doesn’t actually try to stop you. Who knew he was so into chaos.

But if you try to drag him to a plan when he should be sleeping he will be like Beel and literally just hold you down while he naps dammit. You brought this on yourself. He needs sleep.

#obey me #obey me!#obey me shitposts #obey me crack #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #bast babbles #my writing #obey me headcanons #gender neutral mc #re-reading this makes me vibrate with the need to destroy things #tldr is that humans are fucked up

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Night Crawling

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Some explicit smutty goodness in a dive bar bathroom, some recreational drug use, some Sam feels.

A/N: I really thought I was going to write PWP for once. As usual, some feels snuck in. Set at some vague point in Season 5.

I’ve had the new Miley Cyrus album on repeat all day; inspiration, title, and bathroom graffiti quote all came from “Night Crawling.” Listen to that and “Gimme What I Want” if you want maximum ~atmosphere~ or whatever while reading.

“Another?” Sam asks, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. He gives me a twisted, wicked version of his usual dimpled smile. There’s a drop of tequila clinging to his lip, and I want to lick it off. He’s so close.

My head is still spinning from the last shot and from his attention. I shake it off.

“Bathroom, I’ll be back,” I tell him.

Sam’s in a fucking mood tonight. Not that I blame him. Time is ticking away, faster by the day it feels like; if Lucifer was after me, I’d take whatever escape I could get.

Dean’s at the motel, hopefully putting some ice on his twisted ankle or maybe sleeping, and normally Sam would be fussing over him like an overgrown fucking mother hen. Instead, he suggested that we go “blow off some steam,” looking at me with this glint in his eyes, like he was daring me.

So… here we are, getting fucked up in a grimy rock club, watching some Nine Inch Nails wannabes wail like a porn soundtrack over a dirty industrial bassline.

Sam fucking Winchester. Always full of surprises.

It’s one of those single-occupancy dive bathrooms where I don’t want to touch anything or, like, inhale too hard. It’s impossible to tell what color the walls originally were under the layers of concert flyers and graffiti. There’s probably enough cocaine residue on the chipped porcelain sink counter to get an elephant high. That kind of place.

He wants me almost as much as I want him, I’m pretty sure, but I never thought either of us would act on it. Too many complications, too many ways to fuck it all up… now, though? The entire world is fucked. Might as well get laid before it all goes to shit.

Two lines of red Sharpie scrawl next to the mirror grab my attention: night crawling, sky falling, gotta listen when the Devil’s calling.

Yeah. Well.

I don’t think either of us will make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t want to. That’s what this is all about, really. He started this apocalypse. He’ll never forgive himself if he lives through it. I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t.

I wash my hands and splash some water on my cheeks, bracing myself. I can feel the chemicals kicking up my spine, now.

If Sam fucking Winchester needs to indulge his self-destructive streak and get out of his head for a night, I’ll keep him company. Fuck knows I’ll never say no to him. I’ll stay with him til the end, if he lets me.

It hits me again: this is the end. The world is about to end, and that sweet, sexy, puppy-eyed motherfucker out there is at the center of all of it. Heaven, hell, good, evil… and Sam. If tonight is what we’ve got — if this is all we’ll ever get — I’ll take it. I’ve always wanted more, but… this’ll do. It’ll have to do.

He’s slouching against the wall, right outside the bathroom hallway. He gives me this dark, hungry grin when he sees me, and maybe whatever was in that pastel blue pill is making itself known, or maybe it’s just Sam that’s sending a wave of prickly heat over my skin… either way, it feels good.

“C’mon,” he says, passing me a cup of ice water, and then he’s gripping me by the wrist, pulling me into the crowd.

Sam doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t dance with me, but he’s not fucking around: hands on my waist, hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at me, cheeks flushed, moving with the beat. I rest my free hand on his upper arm, right where the swell of his bicep flexes against the soft cotton sleeve of his t-shirt, and I can’t help but squeeze slightly, feeling hot skin and muscle under my palm. I swallow hard.

Sam leans in closer. I can smell him, the natural scent of his sweat under the spice of his deodorant, and it’s so overwhelming that I shiver.

He gets his lips right up against my ear, the deep rumble of his voice a physical thing that I can feel as well as hear: “Ever just get sick of being yourself?”

Jesus.

“Yeah,” I mumble, mouth dry. I don’t know if he hears me but it doesn’t really matter.

“I think too much. I don’t want to think tonight. Is that okay?”

I suck in a breath. “Don’t need to explain, Sam. I get it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, heavy-lidded, golden skin shining with sweat in the flecks of light coming off the disco ball. “Dance with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam, anything you want.”

I toss back the cup of water, gulping it down, too eager; some of it trickles down my chin. I don’t care. I drop the cup and run my hand up Sam’s chest. His eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, sinful, gorgeous. For a moment I think he might say something but instead he spins me around and hauls me closer, my back to his chest.

The song is filthy, all thudding funk hooks and wild drums. There’s this frantic heat behind it that has me sinking under the surface, swimming through the riff, and the pulse of it wriggles down my spine and works itself out through my hips as I toss my head. It’s the kind of rhythm that’s made for sweating all over a stranger.

Sam might as fucking well be a stranger right now. I never knew he could move like this.

His hips swivel and twist, and his hands slide down to my thighs, pinning me against the solid muscled heat of his body. I feel reckless. I feel high and overstimulated and utterly fearless, and I can feel his touch echoing through me, inside me, throbbing down my belly to where I’m empty and suddenly aching.

As soon as I think about it, the emptiness hits me hard. My cunt is clenching around nothing in time with the gritty slap of percussion. I arch my back and rub myself against Sam shamelessly.

He’s hard against my ass, hard and getting harder with every shrieking lick of guitar, and the awareness of it sends a thrill down through the core of me, like a bolt of lightning striking between my legs. My breath catches and hisses out of my lungs like I’m a punctured balloon. I feel dizzy.

It’s all so intense right now. Every inch of my skin is fizzing, and the simple curl of his fingers around my wrist has me shuddering like he’s stroking something much more intimate.

On any other night I would try to step back, to get myself under control… I’d start thinking, and I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d get stuck in my head instead of giving in to the mind-blowingly intimate thrill of his fingertips pressing into my pulse.

We’re not thinking tonight. I couldn’t think straight even if I wanted to.

The beat changes, segueing into something low and slinking and goddamn obscene. I’m dripping with sweat — mine or Sam’s? I can’t tell — and my skin is on fire, and I want Sam in this awful, all-consuming way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone.

So I don’t think about it; I just turn, twisting in his arms until we’re face to face, or rather, face to chest. He’s biting his lip, expression almost pained as he grips my waist and slots a thigh between mine. I snake my arms around his neck and roll my hips, feeling the seam of my jeans dragging up the sensitive spot between my legs, and I’m absurdly grateful for the way the music drowns out any embarrassing noise I might make.

There’s a drop of sweat sliding down the corded muscle of his neck. It trickles to a glittering halt right at eye level, in the hollow of his throat, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I could fall down and worship whatever god invented the v-neck.

I don’t fall to my knees, but I do lean forward and taste his skin. Salt floods my tongue.

Sam’s hand runs up my back, cups the nape of my neck, and he doesn’t so much guide me as yank, tilting my head to meet the rough urgent sting of his teeth and the soft slide of his tongue. I groan into his mouth, and his hands flatten at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I want to shove myself against him until I can burrow under his skin.

His mouth. He nips and sucks and explores, lips on mine with crushing force one second, whisper-sweet the next.

I’m melting. I must be melting.

I hold on for dear life, delirious, drunk on the way he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this before, but I never imagined it like this.

We’re still dancing, or something like it anyway; his hips swivel, and I rut against him, my entire body throbbing with animalistic need. Sam shifts his weight, grinding against me, and I can feel the fat stiff length of him right up against my center. I whimper, desperate and wanton.

One hand slides up my back, around my ribs, up, until he can trace the curve of my breast with his thumb and then pinch my nipple through my bra. When I buck against him, he does it again. My knees don’t want to support me any more.

I’m a half-second away from coming just like this. I’m shaking.

“The fuck are we doing?” Sam says roughly. He nips my earlobe.

“Not thinking, remember?” I snap, and then I’m stumbling back, almost falling, tugging him by the wrist as I start to weave through the crushing press of bodies. My heart is pounding. Everything blurs together. My skin feels too cold without him all over it.

There’s one open bathroom, no line, no reason to hesitate. The heavy door closes behind us and the deadbolt slides home with a metallic echoing thud.

He’s already crowding me back, hands on my cheeks, tip of his nose brushing mine. I grab at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp fabric. My ass hits the counter and I surge up clumsily to kiss him. The angle’s off; our teeth clack together.

We laugh and fit ourselves back together, bodies like puzzle pieces in that fucking song Sam would never admit he loves, and I could cry with relief at the way he feels under my hands. I can feel him breathing, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and I can feel the heat of him, blood and sweat and bone, solid and real and here and mine, at least for tonight.

He fumbles with the button of my jeans and kisses me like he’s drowning. Then he curls two long fingers up and into me, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I lean back, heels skidding on the dirty tile as I try to brace myself and rock my hips up all at once.

“Need you to fuck me,” I bite out, remarkably steady considering the way I’m trembling.

“You gonna regret this tomorrow?” Sam asks. He twists his fingers, knuckles stretching me open, so good my eyes roll back in my head.

Tomorrow… we’re not going to think about tomorrow.

“Might regret waiting this long,” I groan. Understatement of the century.

“You ‘n me both. You sure?” He’s staring down at me and he looks wrecked: pupils blown, lips swollen, hair clinging to his temples where his skin is streaked with sweat.

“Do you feel how close I am?” I grab his wrist with one hand, holding him there, fucking myself on his fingers as I try to pull my jeans down with the other hand.

Sam’s mouth drops open and his eyes go unfocused for a second. Whatever self-control he had left is gone. He pulls his hand away, and I whine at the loss, but together we get my pants down, and I kick them off as he gets his belt open. He’s just as big as I always imagined, proportional to those sinfully long elegant fingers, and my mouth fucking waters as I watch him stroke himself.

He bites his lip, chest heaving, and tugs me up onto the very edge of the grimy sink counter. Before I can find my balance he’s right there, hooking an arm under my knee so that he can spread my legs wider, and he’s guiding the hot velvety head of his cock down my center and in, and the slick blunt pressure of it makes me claw at his back, trying to get him closer even though I can barely handle how good that first thick inch feels.

“Fuuu - unnhhhhh - fuck, Sam, I need…” I choke out, and then all I can do is pant breathlessly, incoherent, as he rocks his hips and starts to stretch me open. I’m helpless like this, no leverage to do anything but sit there and take it, and he moves so maddeningly slow that I’m going out of my skull.

“God, look at you,” he breathes. “So fucking good. Always wondered what you’d look like taking my cock. Always imagined you begging. Are you gonna beg for me?”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and give it to me, Sam, I swear —”

“Yeah?” he growls. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise.

I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, leaning back on my hands, and then I can arch my back and pull him deeper, working myself onto his cock.

“Sam —” I start, but before I can say anything else he slams home, grinding in hard and fast, and my voice cracks on a stuttering, incoherent whine. It’s blindingly good. He’s steely-hard and so goddamn thick I feel like I’m about to split open, like one wrong move is going to pull me apart. His first rolling thrust sparks this wrenching wave of pressure that fills me up and shakes me down to the tips of my toes, my entire body rippling with feverish heat.

“That’s my girl,” he pants. He pulls me against him and twists up, rough and filthy, and I shudder against him, writhing, mindless and overwhelmed.

“Sam,” I choke out. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky-thin, and the next sharp thrust makes me forget whatever I was going to say beyond, “Nnnnhhhhhyesohgod.”

“There?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

He moans, low and broken, and finds that perfect spot again, grinding into it with eye-popping force.

I can feel it, pleasure cramping through me with every movement, coiling up, building around the deep throbbing ache where he’s fucking into me. I feel like a wild animal, primal and lost.

“Good girl. Fuck, feels so good.”

I clutch at his shoulders, muscles quaking, burying my face in his neck as all that white-hot pressure peaks inside me. I let out an ugly, anguished sob, can’t hold it back, and then all I can feel is the all-consuming spasm of my orgasm, tension rocketing through every inch of me, sending me out into space for a long paralyzed moment. The first pulse of it is so scary-intense that I can’t breathe, can’t control myself, can’t keep track of my own body…

Then it all comes back at once, and I’m exquisitely aware of Sam against me as he fucks me through it, hips surging forward as I squeeze around him and urge him deeper.

“Thought about this so many times,” he’s confessing, ragged and raw.

“Me too,” I gasp.

He sucks in a shaky breath, moving slower as I start to come down, and I can feel him holding back now. “Think about you so fucking much, I can’t —”

“Me fucking too, Sam.”

He kisses me, gentle in a way that could very easily destroy me.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispers, forehead sweaty where it rests against mine.

“Fuck, Sam, don’t — this is —”

I feel so strange and strung-out, caught between the shivery aftershocks in my belly and the startling tenderness in his voice as he mumbles, “Wanted to take my time.”

“Sam.”

“Wanted to take my time with you,” he repeats. He moves against me with this slow, snakelike undulation. “Wanted to lay you out and kiss you everywhere and fucking worship you.”

“We can. We can — I want that.”

“Never gonna be enough,” he chokes out. “I knew — I knew, if I did this, I’d never want to stop.”

My skin is lit up with the feel of him, liquid heat gathering in my gut as my body responds to every perfect touch, but I’m afraid my ribcage is about to split open with the way my heart is hammering.

We’re in a goddamn dive bar bathroom, for fuck’s sake, and I’m fucked up, and maybe this will feel cheap and tawdry and silly in the morning, but… somehow I don’t think it will. Somehow this feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Why’d we wait this long?” I ask. There’s an embarrassing wobble in my voice.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he grits out. “Because I was scared.” Before I can respond, he kisses me, all teeth and desperation, twisting his hips and swallowing my moan. He slides his hands under my shirt, sliding them up my back, and drags his fingernails down in trails of stinging heat. It’s pleasure and pain and fucking obliteration, and the sensory overload has me spiraling out again.

“Fuck that,” I half-laugh. My back arches and my voice breaks, and I bite his lip hard enough that I taste copper.

He groans, full-throated and shameless, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into the sweat-slick curve of my neck. He sucks, nibbles, and it sets off fireworks behind my eyelids.

“Close, Sam. So close,” I babble, breathing harsh and heavy. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, and I can feel him moan. “Never thought it’d feel like this. It’s — this is so much better —”

He shudders against me, lets out this long, guttural sound, and then he shifts and pounds into me harder, and all I can do is cling to him, pulling him closer like I’m never going to let go. “C’mon, then. Fuck. Tell me what you want.”

“Please, Sam. Just — please. Please.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he growls. “You know that, right?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave me,” I blurt out, as the unbearable tension starts to crest. “Don’t leave me, Sam. Please.”

I know he hears it. He gasps like I punched him. I can feel him jerk, twitch, fingers clawing at my back, cock twitching and swelling inside me as he starts to come. I bite down on the meat of his shoulder as I let go. My orgasm feels like it’s ripping something loose, an earthquake in my core, and I don’t trust myself not to say exactly what’s on my mind. There’s a surge of pleasure, one glowing wave of it then another, and I’m dimly aware of shuddering against Sam as he rocks into me one more time, clutching him close… as if I could get close enough to keep him here with me.

It’s impossible to be sad right now. I’m chemically incapable of sadness, still soaring high, but this is so much bigger than sadness anyway. I just feel like I’m about to break.

“That,” he says, with an ugly sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “That’s what I was afraid of. That I wouldn’t ever want to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s just — let’s not think about it. Okay? Can we go back to the motel and — can we do that again? Take our time?”

“Just for tonight?” he asks raggedly.

“Just for tonight. We’re not going to think about what comes next.”

He nods. We both know it’s a lie.

#sam winchester smut #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader smut #supernatural #spn fic

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