#like am i supposed to elaborate on that or are my readers smart

[bliklo-tep]

What’s your relationship with your siblings?

-L 💕

Wiggly and I are, not close. Not too distant atleast, we were close as children. But that’s in the past, being the two eldest kids, we don’t have much of a bond. The last I’ve spoken to him was maybe a few weeks? I’m not complaining though, not in a bad way, I just have no clue what to say to him. I have been watching over, seeing as he.. has been as cruel as ever. My opinion on the matter, eye have to much to say.

Pokey and I, are rather close. He helped me with watcher world performances and events, I helped him with his musicals and songs. I helped with the choreography , aswell as watch over his silly plays he’d put on with his toys, or should eye say his favorite humans? He refers to them as toys, actors in a show they don’t want to be in. It’s exciting, fun to watch him force someone into song and dance, an activity for fun.

Tinky and I, were close aswell. Eye talked to him lots, despite the many times he’s blew me over and destructed my things, such as things in watcher world and my room. I don’t think id be able to stay angry at him forever, I don’t think I could hold a grudge against any of my younger siblings. I would act aggressive or get furious whenever he did something, id get mad when he’s stupid. When he doesn’t think, he doesn’t use all that smarts for common sense. Who here actually does? I’ve seen many, all commit acts without a second thought. He is no better, eye suppose none of us are at all great. Id say I miss him, but he’d laugh if I did. I don’t think I should miss him, I know he can’t stay away forever. Although, I am missing our silly, stupid conversation where he and I use to bicker over purple and blue being different. When we used to talk. I’m just glad he seems to be doing fine. Better than before.

Nibbly and I are like, fine. I let him eat my sniggles, he’s perfectly normal when he’s not hungry. Which, let me tell you is rare. While we have not actively had a proper conversation, he is my brother, I don’t help him with his honey festivals but he does help with taste testing Watcher Worlds newest food items. I mostly see him as a dog that’s gone mad. Id say more, but I don’t think I should go into more detail about.. things. I cannot elaborate.

Webby. I miss her, is that strange? She’s my younger sister, I took care of her before she was banished. You’d feel the same, I know you watchers and readers would. In that little world, the world that’s as strange as this one, feelings matter there, more than anything. Gods in your world have them too, don’t they? Greek gods, have you seen their punishments? Over such dumb things. Though maybe I’m overdramatizing her banishment, I don’t like her very much either. But I wouldn’t call her a bitch, nor would I call her a stupid one. There are sides, and she took the opposite. I can respect that, others can’t.

[cursed-domain]

Dazed

Stoner!Geto Suguru x Reader 

(and implied Geto x Gojo hhehe)

WC ~3.2k

You get higher than intended, and Geto gets more hands-on than expected. Even with his friend (?) sleeping just a few feet away.

Contains: NSFW and DC - dubcon and manipulation. Drug use, degradation, oral sex (both male and female receiving), unprotected sex, and potentially voyeurism 

Gojo is already too high to be of any use by the time you arrive. You see him sprawled across a couch as Geto opens the door for you, eyes lidded over, an unusually tranquil smile gracing his lips. He does still manage to grin when he sees you, waving a lazy hand in your direction.

“He was more fun half an hour ago,” says Geto, sitting you down on the other, smaller sofa as he pulls his lighter from the low table in front of you. “Always gets all giggly for a while before he calms down.”

“Nuh-uh,” Gojo contributes. “Been fine this whooole time.”

“Mhm.” Geto smiles patronizingly at his friend as he hands you the lighter.

You giggle quietly and clumsily flick the silver wheel at the top. It does nothing.

“Have you not used one of those before?”

Embarrassed, you shake your head. “Nope. I’ve only smoked a couple times. Someone’s always done it for me.”

“You’re cute.” Geto holds out his hand, and you place the small black box in his palm. “It’s like this.” He holds it straight up and quickly strokes his thumb across the sparkwheel. A small flame ignites, dancing brightly in the dim, pungent room. “Your turn.”

He extinguishes the flame and hands it back to you. You nod silently, still a little flushed. “And… um…”

“You haven’t used a bong before either, have you?” The condescending smile is trained on you, now. And you don’t mind nearly as much as you should.

“Maybe not… I think I get it, though.” You point to the top of the glass tube in front of you. “My mouth goes there.” You point to the bowl. “And the lighter goes there. And then I inhale.”

“Smart girl,” he purrs. “You figured it out all by yourself.” He leans over you, pulling the implement closer, brushing your thigh as he withdraws his hand. “Want me to go first? Show you how it’s done?”

“Nope,” you say, with much more confidence than you feel. “You already had some before I got here. ‘S my turn now.”

He shrugs lazily, squeezing your shoulder in what you take as a gesture of encouragement. “If you say so.”

You lean forward eagerly. Gojo sits up to watch, laughing as you curl your lips tight around the outside of the tube. “Oy, Geto,” he laughs. “She kinda looks like you did earlier -”

“Shh.” Geto grins crookedly in his friend’s direction, pulling your head back before you can process what’s just passed between them. “Lips on the inside, sweetheart. Not over the rim.”

You nod, heart beating fast in a mixture of embarrassment and excitement and who-knows-what as you try again. You’re proud of how much you manage to inhale, although the feeling of self-satisfaction is diminished by the unsupressable coughs which erupt from your lips as soon as you separate them from the glass.

“Not too bad.” Gojo claps slowly for you, so seemingly sincere that your pride starts to return. “The coughs get better. You’ll learn.”

“We’ll teach you,” Geto elaborates, rubbing your back as you’re wracked by a second, smaller wave of coughs. “You’re gonna be a real stoner pretty soon.”

“Am not,” you protest. “Not gonna smoke all the time like you idiots.”

“Hm?” Gojo’s eyes seem a little brighter now, glinting sapphire as a beam of sunlight catches them through the window. “Nah. I mean - maybe I’m kind of an idiot right now. But Geto’s not. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah,” you say, already slightly dazed. “I know. He just taught me.” You’re vaguely aware of his hand sliding from your back down your waist. It’s warm and soft, and you can’t seem to make yourself care as it brushes your hip bone.

“Yeah.” Gojo’s eyes train on Geto’s movements. They widen briefly, then narrow as the bright light fades, overshadowed by a passing cloud. “Mhm. Man knows how to hold his smoke.” He falls back down onto the couch, folding his hands behind his head. “You don’t, though.”

You giggle as he closes his eyes, a smirk small but plain on his handsome face. “Yup. ‘M already feeling kinda. Hm.” You’re not quite sure how to describe the feeling. And it’s so hard to think at all, with Geto’s long fingers slowly crawling up your thigh. 

“‘m sleepy. You guys - have fun, okay?” You lean your head against Geto’s shoulder. A few minutes later, Gojo’s head drops off to the side, his breathing slowed to a slow and peaceful rhythm.

“He won’t be up for a while,” says Geto. “Just us, okay?

You nod. He’s so warm, and - he seems so much more alert than you. It comes from experience, you suppose. You nod again, absently, shivering a bit as his fingertips slide along your hips. 

“Sensitive, hm?”

“Huh?” 

“I’m barely even touching you, sweetheart. And you’re already getting all… hm.” He exhales gently as you turn your eyes towards his. He’s close enough for you to pick out each individual eyelash, thick and dark, blinking slowly as you lean closer. 

“I smoked too much, I think.” You giggle, high and soft, laying your hand over his as it works at the silver button fastening your jeans. You can practically taste the tang of his breath. “Don’t do this much.”

“Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d come. I thought you might be a little… straight laced. A good girl, you know?”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause I am.” You lower your face to cough again and then bring it back up, grinning sheepishly, biting your lip. “Maybe not right now, though.”

“Absolutely not.” He takes the back of your head, surprising you - you’d almost forgotten, in your haze, that he had another hand. “And that’s alright. In fact, I want to keep you just like this.” He presses you forward, and suddenly you really can taste him - his breath, his lips, his tongue, almost sloppy against your face as he drags down the zipper of your jeans. “Not too loud, now.”

You glance over at his friend, sleeping soundly just feet away. “I talk quiet. I’ll be good.”

Geto smiles, baring his front teeth. “I wasn’t referring to your talking.”

You suppress a gasp as two of his fingers slide over you, pressed tight against your panties by the denim seams above them. 

“Bad girl. Didn’t I just tell you to be quiet?”

You nod, biting your lip to keep from making another, louder noise as he nudges your panties aside. “‘m sorry…”

“But I know you just couldn’t help yourself. So I’ll have to help you, instead.” His hand wraps around your shoulder and slaps over your mouth, suppressing your whines as the other set of fingers spreads you open. “You are a bad girl, aren’t you? All wet when I’ve barely touched you.”

You squirm, letting out a whimper behind his hand. The movement guides your cunt over his fingers, and you moan again as his fingertips brush up against your clit.

“Don’t wake him up, sweetheart. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, but - I want you all to myself.” With one last slow, gentle stroke, he pulls his hand from between your thighs, moving the other from your mouth so he can wipe the mess you’ve made on your cheek. “And you want all my attention, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Mhm.” You feel almost dizzy, now, struggling to speak even now that he’s allowing it. 

“You wanna be good for me?”

Good, bad. You don’t really know which one he thinks you are, or which one would describe how you’re acting right now. But you want to agree so badly. Just to see him smile at you again. “Yes. Yesyesyes. Wanna be good for you, Geto.”

“Of course you do.” You feel warm all over again as his white-toothed smile makes another appearance, just for you. Especially when he touches you. Right under your shirt, working his slow way up your stomach. “How about you be really good and take this off for me, hm?”

“Yessir.” You open and close your mouth slowly as you pull your shirt over your head. It feels cottony, full and dry. You stick your tongue out and look down, cross-eyed, at your own finger as you run it over your tongue, testing whether it’s really somehow dried up. “Hahh-”

Geto catches your wrist, looking at you with an intensity that almost frightens you. “What’re you doing now, sweetheart?”

“Um…” you cock your head to the side, suddenly confused. His eyes are pretty, his face not nearly as flushed as your own feels. “I don’t know,” you giggle. “Do you know?”

“Not exactly. But I wouldn’t say I mind.” You squeak in surprise as he lifts you from the couch, depositing you on the floor in front of him. “It did get me thinking about some things, though.”

You look up at him, leaning forward, eyes wide. “Whatchu mean?”

“Mm…” He shrugs, rolling his shoulders back into the cushion of the couch behind him. “Take your tits out right now and I’ll tell you.” 

“Oh.” You don’t think he’s joking. Not even a little. So you nod seriously, immediately reaching back to fumble over the clasp of your bra.

He brings his arms forward, latching his hands over yours and deftly separating the hooks from their loops.

“Thank youuuu.” You smile as the cups fall from your breasts, leaving you naked above the waist. “Okay. Now, you have to tell me.”

“Mhmm.” He cups your breasts, running his thumbs over your hard nipples as he squeezes gently underneath. “I was thinking about using your mouth properly. It looked so empty with just a finger inside.” 

You shake your head side to side, trying to clear it of whatever fuzz is inhibiting your comprehension. “What…”

He glances down at your jeans, already undone, their high waist bunched low on your hips, then to his, fastened and peaked noticeably under the zipper. “I want your mouth on my cock.” 

“Oh…” you blink up at him, setting a wary hand on his thigh.

He reaches forward and grabs the back of your head. “Now. You wanna be good for me, right?”

“Uhuh. I do. Mhm.” You place your chin on the couch between his legs, looking up as his palm urges you forward. You open your mouth, sucking at him through the fabric dividing you. 

“Take it out yourself. You’re clumsy right now, and I want to watch you try.”

“No ‘m not…” Your words are undercut by the way you fumble with the metal disk. In a second, though, you manage it, pushing the button and zipper aside. He lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his pants and underwear down his legs, laughing indulgently when you get distracted by the way his cock slaps against his navel. Eager to prove yourself, you lean forward, licking a thick stripe up his cock before swirling your tongue around the tip.

“You can do better than that.” 

You look up, pulling your mouth away with a small pop. “Oh… I really am trying  -“

“I know.” He laces a hand in your hair, ruffling it, letting a few strands fall over your face. “You’re really having a hard time right now, aren’t you? I can tell.” A corner of his mouth twitches at your innocently saddened expression. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you.” His face lights up - he’s making it do that, maybe, or maybe it’s just happening on its own. You can’t tell. “Make it nice and easy for you, okay?” 

“Ah-huh.” You sit back on your heels. “Gonna help me.”

“Mhm.” He stands up in front of you, keeping his grip tight on your hair the whole time. “Just get up on your knees and open your mouth, okay?” 

You quickly pick up your thighs from your heels, lolling your tongue out as your eyes flick up and down, taking in the way he towers over you, the way his hair, half down, frames his face even from this low angle. “All done. ‘M waiting.”

“Good girl.” You beam, wide-mouthed, and stick your tongue out even farther as he closes the distance between you. “Don’t pull back, okay?”

“Ah -ah!” He jerks you forward, shoving into your mouth before you can say anything in response. You’re vaguely aware of his mouth, still - he’s sighing, almost humming with approval, but you don’t really notice. You just try not to gag as he uses you, holding your head still and fucking your mouth, thrusting harder each time you moan around him, each time he sees drool trail from your lips. Finally, it’s too much. You wretch around his cock and tug your head away. “I’m - I’m sorry -” you pant, screwing your mouth up in an expression of disappointment. “Just - need a break.”

“Hm?” Some of the bright glow fades from his eyes as he leans over, replaced by a darker gleam. “Too much for you already?” He grasps your jaw tight in one hand as the other tugs on your hair. “I thought you wanted to give me what I wanted. Are you so dazed and stupid right now that you forgot?”

“No - no, I’m not. I remember.” You want to withdraw into yourself, frightened by his sudden change in tone, but you can’t look away. The nail of his index finger strokes across your lips, willing them to part. “Just - need a second. Please.” 

“Hm.” He presses harder on your mouth, forcing his finger inside. “You’re not feeling bad, are you? You decided to come here today. Right? You decided to get yourself into trouble. Decided to smoke more than you could handle like the stupid little stoner bitch you are.” 

You try to talk around his finger, blinking back tears as your response comes out muffled. “Mm-mmm. ‘M not like that.” What does he mean by trouble? you wonder. Why’s he being so, sooo mean? 

He makes eye contact with you as he sees the confusion rising in your face. You breathe a sigh of relief as his gaze softens, smiling back at him as he wipes his drool-covered finger across your face. “Nevermind, sweetheart. I say things like that sometimes, but I don’t mean anything by it. You know that, right?”

“Oh.” You giggle, suddenly feeling very foolish. “Right. I know.” You lean forward again. “I don’t need more of a break. I’m okay.”

“Good.” He lets go of your hair, letting it fall in strands against your neck. “Isn’t your mouth tired, though? I think it must be. I think you’re ready to try something else.” You open and close your mouth again. It still feels full and dry, stuffed with puffy clouds. “How about you take these off -” he points, guiding your eyes to your half-fallen jeans “- and then we’ll do something new, okay?”

“Yeah…” You get on your back, right between the table and the couch, knocking your foot into a table leg as you do. “Oops…” You glance in Gojo’s direction, but he doesn’t move.

“Shh.” Geto shakes his head as you grin up at him, taking a moment to watch you struggle before lowering himself to the floor with you. “I don’t want to have to share you, do I?”

“Mmm…” It’s hard for you to think as he lifts your hips, pulling your panties down past your knees. “Nope. No. You don’t.”

He wraps each hand around one of your thighs, spreading them wide. “You’re such a smart little thing.”

“Thank - Tha -” You stutter to a stop as he nips at your inner thigh. “Ooo.” He bites again, higher and harder, and you tighten your legs around his head.

“What were you saying?” He looks up, narrowing his eyes as you fumble over your own tongue. “Are you really having that much trouble? I’m only asking you to say a few words.”

“I was - was saying-” You gasp softly as he drags his tongue over your cunt, and lose your train of thought all over again.

“I’ll help you,” he says. He laps at you, long and slow, drawing another soft noise from your lips. “I’m going to do that again. And you’re going to say what you were trying to say a moment ago. Gonna be a good, polite girl and thank me.”

You sit up and nod quickly, letting your head fall back as he follows through on his words. “Mm - mhmm. Thank you, Geto. Ahh -” Your hips chase after him as he pulls away, suddenly grinding against empty air. “Nononono. Please come back.”

“You’re cute.” He circles two fingers around your clit before pushing them inside you, curling back and making you squirm as he continues to talk, his voice slow and calming and steady. “I could give you more than my tongue, if you wanted.”

“More?” You’re staring so intently at his hand that you have to force yourself to blink. “You - ahhh - you wanna give me even more?”

“Mhm.” His two fingers split inside you, stretching you open. “I’m being very generous, aren’t I? Letting you take my cock even when you’re acting like this.”

“How I’m acting? Oh...” You really don’t know how you’re acting. And at this moment, you feel like it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s really going to let you -

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

You push your hips forward, forcing his fingers inside of you to the hilt. “Uh-huh. You’re gonna give me your cock. Gonna feel sooo nice.” You look up, remembering something as he tilts his head. Remembering what he likes to hear. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He squeezes your thighs harder as he lifts them, pushing them back as he swells forward, splitting you open in a single stroke that leaves you feeling even more dazed than before. “Don’t close your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me.”

“Ah - ah -” He doesn’t need to tell you. You can’t look away. Your eyes are too wide, too big, overwhelmed by the sight of his face above you as your body is overwhelmed by the jolts and shivers he sends through you. You’re moaning, you think, or maybe just gasping for breath. He might be, too, but you’re not focused on what you can hear. Only what you can feel, vibrating through your core and your legs, flowing through your entire body, its warm intensity at odds with the static of your mind. You let go, let it flow through you, only slightly aware of the way Geto’s cock pulses inside you, letting go in just the same way. 

A moment later, he lets your legs lower to the floor, falling over you and meeting your mouth with his own. “Such a good girl. So good.”

“You’re good,” you whisper, quiet and flushed.

You’re confused when he laughs to himself. “You think so, huh?” he mutters. 

“Yea. Mhm.” As he eases off of you, you sit up and reach for your jeans, still crumpled carelessly around your ankles.

“Whatever you say.”

You bend forward, trying to catch his gaze as he turns from you. As you’re trying, you see Gojo’s face in the corner of your eye, looking just suspicious enough to make you turn completely in his direction.

The blue eye closest to you winks shut. Half a second after you notice it staring.

[tenkasato]

Hellow, Ten~ May I make a request with some Gojo comfort fluff? Something like what you wrote with Megumi x nurse reader? Alittle angst if you must? TY in advance!

Alright. It was supposed to be angst... but it turned out more fluff than angst which I HAD NOT intended. There's a sprinkle of angst so I hope you like that, anon. Enjoy!

A Modest Invitation

Scenario: Gojo is feeling down, and you have ways to entertain him.

Warning: suggestive language, swearing, overloaded fluff I guess

As far as Gojo Satoru was concerned, this was his favorite time of the day.

Business was the same as usual. Curses to exorcise and erase from existence. Problems to mull over and draft solutions to. Children to nurture and guide. And so on, so on, so on, and so forth...

Mind you, being the strongest sorcerer doesn't exempt you from feeling burned out.

He buried his face unto your stomach, nuzzling his nose on the thin fabric that covered your skin and inhaling your fresh, floral scent. Being able to touch you, to feel your existence palpable under his fingers gave him a relief that kept him sane for the past few days.

You were still here. Alive. Breathing. With him.

"Not going to tell me I’m heavy?" he asked as he smiled against you.

You clicked your tongue, and with a trace of amusement and affection, you said, "You won’t be getting off me even if I did, right? So, what’s the point?"

"My wife is such a smart woman."

"Sure am," you snorted.

He felt your hand run through his still wet hair in ginger strokes, straightening the tangles at the tips and drawing circles on his scalp. He heaved a heavy sigh.

Your fingers stopped midway between a stroke. "Something wrong, Satoru?"

Satoru raised his head in surprise. "Huh?"

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, come on. I’ve known you since we were in diapers. I know what every sigh you make means.”

Satoru held you in his stare, and you couldn't help but drown into those aquamarine eyes that engulfs your whole existence. You loved those eyes. You loved them dearly.

“I heard you worked with your ex today,” he said in a quiet voice. The unease in his tone made you blink. He had tried to speak with nonchalance but you heard the apprehension nonetheless.

"Is someone jealous?" you teased, the smirk in your face unconcealed. "Glad the day finally came."

He snapped his head up to meet your gaze, lifting his torso up with his arms so he could properly fix you a heated, sullen glare. "Not funny."

"Oh, come on. I used to get jealous of your ladies before. Give me a chance to be the one getting jealous over this time."

"That doesn't sound fair," he whined this time. Satoru crawled towards you until his face was directly over yours. "You're doing it on purpose."

You stared back at him innocently. "And why would I do that?”

He lied down beside you with his arm caged around your torso. You shifted and snuggled up to him.

You reached out to his face as if to console him, pressing the pads of your fingers on his jaw and thumbing his lower lip. You stayed like that for a couple more minutes, basking under the dim light by the corner and plainly listening to each other’s breathing. He thought you had fallen asleep when you had stopped moving, until he felt a light pressure on his chin.

“Jokes aside,” you started when he finally got a look at you, “are you okay? I didn't think you'd be bothered by something like that. You know there's nothing to worry about my ex, right?”

Glancing away, he said, embarrassed, “It’s… I feel so insignificant lately.”

The stare you returned was so intense he could feel your eyes boring into him even without having to look at you. You didn’t ask him to elaborate. You waited, knowing he needed time to articulate his thoughts. Sometimes, he wished you weren't this receptive to him. Being so weak in front of you made him loathe himself even more than he already had.

The day you got married, he poured his heart out with promises of being your respite, your fortress, your source of joy. He thought he could, but with all the responsibilities piled on top of his head, he realized he couldn't give you all the time you deserved.

How many times had he missed your call?

How many times did you have to sleep on the bed at night, cold and alone?

How many times did you hide your tears from him because you didn't want to be an additional burden?

“Look at me,” your voice was a mere whisper.

Reluctantly, he did. He gazed at your serene smile, a glimmer of adoration covering your eyes with a sheen.

Then, with all sinceirty and seriousness, you said, “Wanna fuck?”

Taken aback, Satoru recoiled from you, nearly knocking himself out of the bed. He gaped at you as if you’d just openly admitted being a vampire for a century now.

You let out a string of rude laughter at his stupefied state. “I really love it when you blush like that.”

“You—aren’t you being too bold with—with—you know what? Never mind,” he groaned and inched back into your outstretched arms. “I should’ve been used to your unpredictable, horny episodes.”

“Hey, I ain’t horny now,” you retorted, slightly scandalized. “It just looked like you could use some.”

“It’s hardly the time,” he grumbled with the roll of his eyes.

You, with all the theatrics of a broadway actress, pressed your hand on your chest and gasped. “Oh my goodness. Who are you? My husband would never have turned me down for sex.”

He hissed your name with a warning tone.

The mischievous mold in your face ebbed away like melting wax. Your eyes were speaking to him in a language he could not decipher, in a volume so quiet it was deafening. Whatever emotion you were trying to emanate to him, the unsaid promise of devotion and love—they were so painfully genuine it made his heart ache.

Your face broke into a smile, bitter and sweet, and he found himself returning it.

Suddenly, your smile evolved into nasty Cheshire cat grin, and that alone should’ve been enough cue for him to retreat. But he was a second too late from reacting when your hand shot out and pinched his nose hard.

He let out a yell of utter surprise and pain, earning a roar of thunderous laughter from the despicable you beside him. Cheeks burning, he grabbed his pillow and without preamble, threw it at your face.

You squealed at his sudden retaliation. Wasting no time, you released your battle cry and threw your entire frame in an attempt to tackle him. He smirked at the futile attack but his cockiness came blowing in his face when you poked at his sides.

“Hey!” he yelped as you tickled. “Hey—haha—HEY—“

“Do you—“ you grunted as he pinched your cheeks raw, “—yield?”

“Hell no,” he spits, “not when I’m winning—pAHAHAHA—!”

Satoru took you by surprise when he wrapped his legs around you, pinning his knees on both sides of your hips and twisted his body. You weren't given a chance to yell. Your back connected with the bed with him sitting on top of your thighs, a triumphant grin painted on his face.

“Do you yield?” he asked, catching your wrists before you took another jab at his ribs.

“You do know,” you huffed, “that I can take you down. If I wanted to, yeah?”

“I have no doubts,” he chuckled almost proudly. “But you’re too pure-hearted to hurt the love of your life.”

“Hmm... cocky little bastard.”

“But you love me,” he insisted.

You exhaled in exasperation. “Come here before you suffocate my thighs.”

Laughing, he obliged, lying back beside you all ruffled and warm inside. As you had always, you scooted closer and laid your head on his chest, arm and leg thrown over the rest of his body.

Your sigh of contentment was music to his ears.

“Feel better now?”

“A lot better.”

“Ready to talk now?”

He hugged you closer. He wanted to be closer even though he didn't know how to. If there's anything he's afraid of, it's not being enough for you.

“You matter,” you said, as if reading his frown and hearing his thoughts. “You matter the most to me.”

He turned to embrace you fully, planting a kiss on your forehead. His fingers gingerly ghosted your spine, easing you into his body.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hmm?”

He let his hand slide down your back to your bottom and squeezed, his solemn features morphing to a wolfish smirk.

“Mind if I take you up on that offer?”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

VIII. we all fall down

✘ Synopsis : it’s been a week and your supplies are dwindling, leaving the guys with no choice but to want to go out to help you. You've told them no, but their drive to protect you is stronger than their drive to stay safe.

✘ Pairing : ??? x F!Reader

✘ TW : food shortage ; the guys being selfless ; attempts at comfort ; Heeseung starting to grow feelings ; reader slightly oblivious ;

✘ Word Count : 2.0k

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The first time they had tried to go on a supply run, it hadn’t worked that well. Not because they couldn’t find anything, it was mainly because you were terrified of them leaving. How could you not be? You didn’t want any of them to get hurt, and you didn’t want to be alone in your apartment, and you were already on the verge of having a panic attack just thinking of the potential people who could follow them back. 

Jake had gone into your room to see if you were sleeping when they were about to go, the other guys had been in your living room gearing up with all of your cookware and cutlery. He thought he had been calm, but his demeanor had changed drastically, his aura completely different from what it had been during breakfast, so you called him out on it, and he started to stutter. Stammering over his words as he tried to come up with some bullshit lie that he himself knew that you wouldn’t fall for. 

So you called it, and you quickly got out of bed and told them no. Sure, you needed more food, but they didn’t have to go now, they should at least wait, which in turn created another argument that no one really wanted to have, but for some reason Jay thought it was necessary. “So we’re just supposed to wait until all the food is gone before we go out scavenging? That’s fucking smart!” He voiced sternly, dropping down onto the couch and letting the frying pan he had been holding clatter to the floor. 

“So it’s smarter to go out when everyone else is doing the same exact thing and they could follow you all back here?!” You screeched back, looking around at all the guys who had clearly not been thinking of that possibility, sharp breaths being taken between clenched teeth. “If you want to go out and potentially get yourselves killed, then I suggest you find somewhere else to stay at because I am not having my home attacked.” You finished, leaving it at that because there truly wasn’t anything else to say. You had made your point, and you weren’t going to elaborate any further, not when it wasn’t necessary. 

Heeseung swallowed thickly, watching after you as you walked back over to your room, finding it to be the only place safe from the outside world and the living room that was constantly in its own realm of chaos from the guys. As soon as you were halfway through the door, he pushed himself up and followed you in, leaning against the frame as he stared at you, thinking of what to say, trying to find the words that would make you understand why they were planning on going out in the first place. 

“We were doing it for you…” He murmured, his hands folded in front of his lap, his eyes on you as he calculated your reaction to what he had just said. “We’ve eaten a majority of your food, we’ve drunk most of your water… We’re doing it to repay you…” He elaborated, and while the sentiment was nice, he didn’t seem to understand the weight of it all. 

You shook your head, drumming your fingers on your lap before smacking them down on your knees. “You can repay me by not dying.” You said matter-of-factly, watching as his doe eyes blinked rapidly. “Look… you’ve already been out there, you know what it’s like. I don’t need you to go back out there and risk yourselves just to get food. I’ve got enough.” Even though you didn’t, the thought of the guys, the thought of Niki, going out there was heart dropping, it had your stomach sinking and you wanted to vomit just thinking about what could happen to them. “Please…” You ended, your hands now clasped together as if you were praying to him, praying that he’d just listen to you, and he did, he nodded slowly, setting down the knife that he had been holding on your dresser with a soft sigh. 

“We won’t… Don’t worry… We’ll stay here.” He whispered, turning his back without another word and heading back into the living room. “We’ll do it next week when she’s asleep.” He told the guys once he was far enough away from your room that he knew you wouldn’t hear him. “We say nothing about it… Just… Act like nothing is going on.” 

A passing week proved to be maybe a little bit too much time of waiting, your supplies lower than you had ever feared they would be, and even the guys seemed to be worried about it, some of them skipping out on meals altogether so that another member could eat. “I’m sorry…” You choked out, watching as they scooped at the broth at the bottom of the pan. “I’ll try to go out and find-” 

All the men let out a collective sound that was a mix between a grunt, groan, and shout at your words, their hands going up in disagreement. “No… It’s fine. You’re not going anywhere.” Heeseung said, his eyes scolding you silently for even thinking that you were going to do anything so drastic. “We’ll go check out the neighbors' apartments, they have to have something…” He said once you had sat back in your chair, your mouth pursed shut as you looked at him, but his suggestion had your eyebrows arching as you looked at him quizzically. 

“You can’t… You can’t steal from my neighbors Hee…” You said, and while you hadn’t really ever known your neighbors, you knew from passing that they were nice people, and they clearly would never do the same thing to you. Heeseung on the other hand was slightly shocked by the nickname that he hadn’t expected you to use with him, the term almost sounding endearing if it weren’t being used to tell him no. “I’ll find something… I just need time.” 

Heeseung shook his head, rolling his eyes as his neck went lax for his head to fall back and look at the ceiling as he let out a groan. “Can you just say okay to this one thing? It’s not like we’re going outside. Plus, your neighbors all left when this shit started. You’re the only one in this building…” He said, and the sudden fact hit you like a break, having you sinking lower in your chair. They had all left, and they hadn’t even checked in with you… Not that they should have, you didn’t know them, but you had just assumed… “I’m sure they left something… Blankets, beds… maybe even clothes. We’ll take whatever we can. You have nothing to worry about… So please… Just let us do this for you. There’s nothing to worry about.” He reached across the table and patted your hand, feeling the eyes of all the other members on him from the small gesture of attempted comfort. 

Doing it for you almost made the guilt grow tenfold. They didn’t have to risk themselves for you, there was no reason to. What were you to them other than some fan that had crazily offered up her home? You were sure that they had thought you were nuts when the message had first come in, but even if they had taken that offer, they didn’t owe you anything for your act of kindness, but here they were, assuming that they did. “Only the neighbors…” You whispered, letting your head drop into your hands, your fingers tugging at your hair as they combed through it. “I swear to god, Hee… only the neighbors.” You emphasized your words, hoping that they’d ingrain themselves into his head. It felt like you were losing everything, your family, your sanity, and you didn’t want to lose them along with it. 

Candles were set up neatly on the coffee table in the living room as the boys pulled out one of your board games, smiles on their faces as they watched you exit the bathroom with your own candle, your hair dripping and your t-shirt hanging loosely down to your knees as you looked at them. You didn’t know how long the water would stay on, so you wanted to enjoy having it for as long as you could before that was taken away from you as well. 

“Do you want to play with us?” Niki asked, looking up at you with that familiar childlike glow in his eyes that only seemed to sparkle brighter with the reflection of the candlelight. “We found a couple loose coins in your couch, so we have enough pawns for everyone.” You couldn’t stifle the small giggle that left you, the sound of it seeming to put everyone in the room in a state of shock, as if they had never heard you laugh before. Were you really that miserable? Would it really shock them if you were? The world was ending, how could you feel anything other than negative emotions? Still, the mention of digging through couch cushions to find change brought you back to a time when you’d do the same just to have an extra player for board games, or when you needed that quarter to buy a piece of stale bubblegum from the machine on the way out of the grocery store. Things that seemed mundane and boring now held a sense of nostalgia that you wouldn’t get back. 

“No no… It’s alright. You guys have fun… I’m gonna turn in for the night.” You waved to them, letting your eyes scan over their faces, some of them disappointed at your lack of eagerness to join, others looked indifferent, as if the only thing they wanted was to win. It looked normal enough, just a group of men sitting in the living room playing a board game. It was what most would do if the power were out. For the first time, it felt like a normal night… If only it was. “Make sure you blow out the candles before you go to bed… I’ll see you all in the morning.” You said softly, retiring to your bedroom and shutting the door behind you, settling into bed and for once since everything had happened, closing your eyes and falling into a peaceful sleep. 

“Alright…” Jay said quietly, flipping over the gameboard that held a weakly drawn map of the city and the apartment building. “We hit outside first, and then we come back here and we go through the apartments. If anyone were to follow us, they wouldn’t come here, they’d follow us to the empty apartments and Y/N would be safe.” Everyone nodded in agreement, pulling out backpacks and duffle bags that they had found in your apartment while you were in the shower. “Whatever we do, we do not come back here until it’s safe.” 

Heeseung nodded quickly, grabbing the knife that you had returned to the kitchen a week ago, the utensil snug in his grasp, although he was sure that he didn’t want to use it, and he didn’t even know if he’d be able to if faced with a reason. “We need to be quiet too… We can’t risk her. If she hears us leave, she’ll come following behind us, and I don’t want anything to happen to her.” He said, and again was met with the speculative glances of everyone in the room, glances that he didn’t quite understand, glances that he quickly wrote off with no real reasoning. 

“I want everyone to stick together, no matter what.” Jungwon added, taking over the role of leader once again when things had grown silent, giving him a gap to speak. “There’s strength in numbers, and I’m sure our numbers are higher than others. We take whatever we can get, there’s no time for browsing or whatever, we take anything and everything that can fit in our bags and we go. Got it?” Everyone grunted in agreement, pushing themselves up off the floor and getting their bags on. 

They weren’t sure if they’d make it back, the most any of them could do was hope that they would. As they headed for the door, Heeseung looked back at your closed bedroom door, hoping that you were sleeping soundly, that you were peaceful, and that when you woke up, you’d still see them there.  

previous / masterlist / next

[superhero--imagines]

A/N: I don’t know man, we got a smart fridge and it went to my head, might make this a series idk

Also- if you like my writing please fill out the interest form here, I want to make an x reader zine for haikyuu and want to see if there is any interest for it!

“Ah don’t like it,” Osamu clicks his tongue, his dark eyes creased into a glare. “Ah don’t like it at all.”

You roll your eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter as you get a good look at the object of Osamu’s disdain.

In front of you, it all it’s glory, stands the french style, four door, customizable bottom right compartment, craft ice, Samsung smart fridge. The glossy surface of the led screen, still covered in the protective plastic, stares back at both of you.

“If you didn’t like it you should have said something.” You shrug.

“Ah did say something” His gaze softens when it sweeps to you, but his mouth remains in the firm straight line. You would tell him to be careful, his face could get stuck like that after all, and then who would greet customers at Onigiri Miya? But you get the feeling Osamu doesn’t want to hear that right now.

“You should have said something louder” Your fingers twitch to the corner of the screen, fidgeting with the plastic, and Osamu sighs.

“How much did this thing set ya back?” His thick index and forefinger rub at his temple, eyes warily watching you set up the fridge and connect it to your wireless Internet.

“A little more than ‘not much’” you admit. Even without the smart appliance upgrade, it was a pretty pricy purchase, since the total for the upgrade was only slightly more, you didn’t see the harm in treating yourself to a nice piece of technology.

Well, not until now at least.

“Is it too late to return it?” Osamu asks, and you feel the skin on your forebears stretch as your eyebrow quirks up.

“Why? Are you in the mood to destroy our credit and end our financial lives before they even really begin?” Osamu cracks a smile at your sarcastic comment and you feel the tightness in your chest relax a little.

So he’s not completely beside himself with rage.

“I thought you of all people would appreciate this.” And it’s true, you did think he’d be beside himself needing out about what a culinary advancement this fridge would be. You should have known better considering the quality of the appliances at Onigiri Miya you suppose.

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise into his hairline, the corner of his mouth lilting into a smirk. “Why’s that?”

He’s only humoring you, you know that. But despite it, you can’t seem to let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

“Well, the fridge does everything, it makes three different kinds of ice, including the big spheres you get at bars, you can turn the bottom right compartment into a freezer, and best of all the fridge takes care of everything, see-“ you point to the led screen which has a recipe for inari onigiri on it. “It can even tell what’s in your fridge and recommend what to make for meals”

Really, it’s pretty incredible, it even connects to your doorbell so you can see if someone’s there with a package, or just another telemarketer that you can avoid. You’re starting to think your refrigerator might be even smarter than you.

Osamu should love this thing. But he doesn’t. Over the course of your speech, his mouth slowly curled down, until it resumed its previous frown.

“That’s the problem” His eyes are averted, refusing to meet yours as you silently prod for more information. It takes three long seconds for him to realize you’re waiting for him to elaborate, and another three seconds for him to find the courage to admit it out loud.

“It’s just…. If this thing does everything, than what am ah supposed to do” his voice is soft, only slightly louder than a whisper, but you hear him loud and clear. As the silence stretches between you too, so does the color on Osamu’s face. First a light pink, no darker than the palest pink rose, blooming into a deep scarlet.

“Well at least say somethin’” he mumbles, his face hidden behind his hand and bite your lips to keep from laughing.

“I’m sorry, I’m still processing the fact that you’re jealous of a refrigerator”

His gaze swings to you, hand falling away from his face and hanging limply by his side. His mouth opening and closing, only to open again, unable to find the right words.

At the sight, you can’t contain yourself any longer, and laughter bubbles out of you. Softly at first, and then in a rush of gasps and wheezes.

“Oh my god!” You manage between fits of laughter. “Who would have- who would have guessed-“ you pause as another roll of giggles pass your lips, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. “Who would have guessed my six foot tall, Adonis-like, boyfriend is jealous of a household appliance!” You howl with laughter, and Osamu’s blush only darkens, teeth digging into his lip.

“W-well how am ah supposed to feel when ya- when ya bring this machine to come in and steal mah job!” He points an accusatory finger towards the fridge and you laugh even harder.

“Your job?” You screech, slapping the counter with one hand and wiping away the tears from your eyes with the other.

“Yes! I consider taking care of you my job!” He’s still bright red when the words fall past his lips, and when you stop laughing and look at him, finally understanding that this is more than just petty ego, he looks away.

“Oh ‘Samu” you murmur, and he sighs when he feels his hand tugged into both of yours.

“Jus’ wanna be good for ya” he mumbles, burying his face into your hair.

“You are ‘Samu, if you want we don’t have to use the smart features, I can just turn it off” it wasn’t exactly that simple, the panel controlled the temperature after all, but before you can worry too much you feel Osamu shake his head.

“Nah, it’s fine, you’re right it is pretty handy.”

You feel your mouth arch into a grin as you look up at him, his eyes are warm as they gaze at you, those soft pink lips curled into a smile.

“I knew you’d like it”

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Hello auther-chan^_^ .💜 I came to request a fic from you.

A strong character... A woman reader who looks like a queen... If someone like that were in the same place as licht, would licht fall in love with her? There was no tetia in any fiction I've read so far. But i want tetia to be in the fiction. But i still want licht to choose me over her. Reader can be a very successful leader in war and a princess who is very fond of her people. I want reader to be a princess too to equalize the situation. Maybe she was the princess of a foreign country and came to help the people of clover who were hurt.🤷‍♀️ The situation may seem strange to her, since they live in her land with the elves.

But these are all details. You are free to change it however you want. It's okay for me as long as there is a smart and strong reader. Oh, and if licht doesn't choose reader, my heart will break, that's all.

Thank you so much for even reading this, auther-chan. I want to write to you from my own account but you seem very busy. I wish you success in university, I will write to you on vacation.💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Hello~! ^-^

I know that I seem busy, and that I am busy 😅 But if you want to send me a message you can absolutely do so. I might not answer right away, but I will eventually (at least I try to answer the messages, comments and other notes you guys send to me). Thank you for the wishes, and I wish you all the best of luck in your endeavors as well! 🥰💕

Pairing: Licht x f!reader

Fic type: Headcanons

You had ventured far from home, into a distant peninsula, as you wanted to meet with another tribe of elves. Which was supposedly of relation to the one that lived peacefully in your home kingdom together with you humans.

So, of course you expected the same dynamic and relationships to apply there as well. Only that they didn’t.

You were received with scepticism and hesitance, something that was to be expected to a degree, since you were a stranger. But they seemed to grow even more suspicious as you told them to be of royalty of a distant nation, and friends with a fair number of elves in your kingdom. And as you talked about the customs and practises of their tribe, their frowns only grew deeper and deeper.

During your years of schooling and working closely with the other nobles, establishing laws and building trust, earning yourself a lot of praise and trust, you had seen those frows before. Your recognised that first they just didn’t believe your words, which was fair and understandable. And quite frankly you had anticipated to elaborate on your knowledge of elven culture, but the sheer disbelief that was clear from them, caught you off guard.

They spoke amongst themselves of another princess, and a prince, talking about something a person named “Licht” had told them. After which they concluded to themselves that they should ask from the man himself.

And that was when you first met with the leader of this elf tribe. He was warm, kind, and rather handsome; an individual who was clearly revered by the other tribe members. The reason for which became apparent with your talk.

He explained that he wished to seek out friendship with the humans, and was fascinated to learn that it had been reached where you came from. His explanation included a story of him rescuing a human woman, who’s brother he had befriended since then. And though you couldn’t quite explain it then, you were angered, even if only slightly, by how fondly he spoke of this other woman, other princess. Because, quite frankly, he deserved better, in your opinion.

“So, they depend on you?” You inquired him. “You’re stronger and more advanced than they are, and they can gain more from you, than you from them?”

“It’s not about gaining. Friendship isn’t about gaining,” he replied, to which you agreed, but he had failed to see your point.

“But friendships are give-and-take types of relationships, are they not? They’re supposed to be able to rely on you, but you’re supposed to be able to rely on them as well. So, if you have that advantage over them, and all they can do, is gain from you, it puts you on uneven grounds. Maybe even makes them jealous,” you reasoned.

He didn’t quite buy your reasoning at first, but it made him think. And as you stayed with them, he slowly began to turn around. He understood what you had meant, and he saw how capable person you were. He saw that you were a person to whom he could lean on, if he needed to do so. You were kind and gentle, but also smart, strong and reliable. Someone he could depend on and trust. Not to mention quite beautiful.

His thoughts evolved, little by little, from thinking that he could achieve something great with you, into personal interest. He found you to be someone, who could stand by him as equals, which was new to him. He had gotten used to being the leader, the only to bear the burden of his people. But in you he saw a companion.

In you he saw someone, for whom his heart would beat.

[starshipsofstarlord]

the age old divine

hela x hecate!reader x agatha harkness / masterlist

summary; the mass of murdered witches draws your attention, shooting down to earth to speculate the scene. two goddesses, and a outcast witch, need i say more? / warnings; death, smut, threesome, biting, blood, threatening, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, squirting

“dead, dead, dead.” the goddess of death herself spoke, as she traipsed through the loitering of witch carcasses. despite her words, her dark eyes showed anything but pity, rather what was bestowed upon her power endorsing pools was amusement. the scene was quite satisfying to her, it was a certainty that she would not be one to complain about the number of bodies.

“say it with a little less stride in your tone, these are my children. they were gifted magic by my hand, and now all that reprise has gone to waste.” you bit verbally at the daughter of odin, looking respectfully down upon the slaughtered. “only one of their own coven could have strung them to her heart so enthrallingly, we have to find the witch.”

“isn’t all this hocus pocus your jurisdiction? there is no we when it comes to reprimanding the order of this nature.” hela responded, brushing her hair back into its tarantula alike webbing. “hurry now, so we can carry on with our reckoning of the realms, earth is rather dirtying my feet with distaste for the humans that loiter pathetically on this planet.”

“oh hush, just because you are your daddy’s number one executioner does not mean that structured by your thoughts, that life is a waste. mortals may not be gifted with long life, nor the representation of elaborate thinking, however there is some beauty to their weak race.” a rustle in the bushes had you snapping your head to the side, focalising on the greenery as a nervous shake prompted the arms.

“there is no beauty to avid weakness.” hela noticed the listener’s location too, though she continued to speak as though it were a regular conversation at one of asgard’s infamous banquets. “nor hiding from those that reign higher in a seam of nature. come out little witch, and show us that digressed face of yours.”

���hela.” thoughtlessly elbowing the executioner, your thoughts drifted to her borderline mistake. the witch could attempt to escape after her whereabouts being called out, though perhaps you should have had more faith in the face of death, for a ragged haired, young woman approached from her hiding spot, seemingly worried for her own safety.

her eyes drifted over the various bodies that she had cast from life, and then they landed on you. instantly she recognised the description that your form visibly upheld, she had heard various tales and stories about you as a child, the mother of the witches.

“agatha harkness.” you knew her name, inside she panicked, it felt as though she were to be punished for her sins. but with one flick of your enchanted wrist, the evidence of her reprisal disappeared, her mother’s corpse turning into nothing more than a wisp drifting through the air. “i suppose it is you that had vanquished your family, may i, the sorceress over all, get an answer to why?”

agatha fumbled her shoulders for a second, as she thought of the best response that she could possibly bestow. she couldn’t say that she had seen the darkhold, nor disobeyed the ways of her coven, that would only make her appear as the villain. “well, are you going to tell me, or am i going to have to take a peak in that chaotic mind of yours?” your tone was harsh, as your demanding eyes bore into her.

from beside you, hela tutted, as she nonchalantly picked at her nails. “aren’t you the one always telling me to have patience?” out of all times, this was when the goddess had to intervene, it seemed as though she herself had no patience to sit there and allow you to carry on. after all, as she had spoken, this was your area, not hers.

“shut it.” the demand provoked the woman that lurched death upon her victims, she was fast to swoon forwards and cast her tough hand upon your jaw. her impending pupils glazed over, washing over with dominance, as her spare hand reached out, shaking her pointer finger at agatha, whom had tried to creep away from the debacle scene.

“not so fast little witch, i want to show you how weak and vulnerable your deity is in my hands. one snap and i could break this pretty neck of hers; and that would be such a shame.” hela hissed, sinking her teeth into your chin, hard enough to cause a puncture mark to render your flesh, with your crimson humanity lightly escaping from the small wound.

the goddess of death threw you upon the ground, as you turned and glared at the witch, who remained frozen at the play that was rolling out before her eyes. hela sunk onto her knees, grasping the crooks of your ankles to pull you closer, straddling you to permit no option of escape.

“i thought that you were smart enough not to talk back to me y/n, but it appears that i, like the ways of my forefathers, was wrong. did all those lessons i introduce you to amount to nothing?” her porcelain hands tore at your white robe, exposing your nudity to the crisp air, that sent ripples of bumps along your immortal skin. “i will bend and break you until you understand. i will rip everything away from you, until you see that your whimsical tricks are nothing in compared to what i am able to do.”

a whine escaped your lips, and agatha’s eyes widened. she shouldn’t be witnessing this, much less standing by as her legendary, tale told idol fumbled beneath a mass of dark seduction, braced to be as barren of clothing as you were the day that you had been birthed as a symbolic presence within the universe.

“get off of me, otherwise i shall inform the hellish mould of the devil’s crown how to defeat you; you and i both know that ragnarok will have you splitting in half like a fallen icicle.” the threat, albeit honest, was half empty, like a cauldron with the incorrect ingredients. hela could only smirk at the predicament that you had adjourned into the compass of.

her suspicious hand slithered down your body like an albino serpent, cradling the mound of your inherited artefact, rubbing her murderous thumb upon your rose, toying cantankerously with the petals, pricking at them like established thorns, drawing a spike in your breath. agatha rubbed her thighs together, trapping her full bottom lip between the jailhouse of her teeth, lightly gnawing upon her own flesh.

“get off of you, or get you off into a climactic example of true ecstasy, that is not accompanied by vengeful curses, nor midnight felines that bring the warning of arising karma?” she asked teasingly, shaking her deviant head as you thrusted your hip against her hand, rubbing the length of your treasure chest upon her thrilling palm.

“don’t be stereotypical hela, otherwise i will make sure you see some entrapment of your own fears; you and i both know that i am well equipped to take a guess at what they are.” hela prowled her top lip up in the stance of a silent snare, quickly disconcerting her attention away from you in your appeasing pose, as she beckoned the bushy haired witness over, grinning contently when the witch silently complied.

“i suppose you’ve never thought that the night would come where you would see your historical figure writhing under the affections of death. touch her, fulfil the one legacy that you bestow upon your enchanted selves, and serve her.” the woman cloaked in a skin of thin armour spoke, glaring frighteningly up at the witch, with a primal infrastructure edging the outside of her feral orbs.

“i, i, what do i do?” agatha wanted to be certain that the thoughts that ceremoniously rushed to her mind. if she were to worship your body with the passion that she had refrained from sharing with any of her coven, then she wanted to be certain that she knew the extents that she was allowed to perform to. a forbade groan sheathed like a revealed dagger from your mouth, as you located your neck in an alternate position so that you could look at your kin.

“eat my cunt harkness, now, before i decide to punish you for your treacherous sins.” within a minute, she scrambled upon the dirt, clawing her way so that she was met with an inspector’s sight. hela untangled herself from her masterful clothing, basking her body in nudity, as she climbed upon her face, sitting on it as you eagerly began to swipe your tongue through her folds, sucking earnestly at her clit.

agatha found that to be her moment, she craned her head down, swiping her fingers through your self accumulated slick, watching with a transparent gaze as your essence coated the pads of her skin. she delved her face closer, inhaling the immoral scent that radiated from your most intimate parts, tracing your lips with her explorative tongue. the witch hummed, as though she had succeeded at a spell, gasping herself as she felt your hand comb down and pull at her messy locks.

hela ground against your face, half suffocating you, just the way that she liked it. you moaned into her pulsating flesh, inserting your primitive tongue inside her, roaming around the dark caves that staved many secrets, feeling how each one perfectly moulded her soul, and made her into the dependant warrior that she was. it was unarguable, she was a difficult person to get along with, but you could feel the impact that her younger years had shaped her; she had been taught to be this version of death.

but ironically, there was much life in her as she made huffs that she often saved for the episodic scenery of the battlefield, huffing her perky chest out as she felt valhalla erupt in her abdomen, urging her to sink onto your tongue, and use you for her own advantage. agatha was admittedly not doing as bad of a job as you had inwardly predicted, she was eager to please, specifically more so, since it were you, hecate that she was intimately tending to.

you moaned up into hela, lurching your bottom half down and further unto agatha’s in inquisitive face, sending ripples of sound up through the raven haired woman’s sly body, stringing more leverage over her, in more ways than one. a shout bellowed from your chest, as you felt tendrils of aura surround the interior of your stomach, poking it to no end, sending you closer to the edge. witches, you’d show this one in particular.

harkness squealed as she felt a heat penetrate her entire being. she was a witch, you were a deity, that was perception enough that there was a range of power between the two of yours abilities. “hecate.” it was the name that her ancestors had taught her, and thus, the woman used it, trying to mush her not so innocent face back into your pussy in attempts to shut her own self up.

it felt as though the bifrost was soaring through her, sending her to another land; hela came onto your face, mumbling incoherent, presumably dominant, words to herself as you used your oral appendage to help clean her up. “by the dead, are you good at that.” it was far from the first time that she had told you that. agatha was on the route to her second orgasm, the bliss that you intuitively blessed her with had rendered her to a first.

she however continued to bring you to the overall whits of your sexual expression, introducing her fingers into your nest, watching euphorically as they entered you, and sunk delightfully through your folds, being swallowed into the spongey abyss. hela dismounted from your face, tracking over to position herself from behind agatha, turning up the ends of her skirt, throwing the supporting material over her ass, grabbing the cheeks as she pressed a bite into one globe.

the goddess sunk her face into the subsequent area that had been indulged in privacy for far too long, stroking up the ways of agatha’s slick cunt, nibbling upon her clit as the maleficent light you bestowed continued working inside of her. shaking your head, a finish line was installed as you raced towards it, surpassing the line as you pushed the simple witch’s face closer to your heat, coating her lips with your personal gold, forcing the pressure within her to explode.

her body shook as a violent flurry, which was surely anything natural, reckoned her body. juices spurted out behind her, coating hela’s torturous tongue as she pulled away, silently comparing her taste to your own. once more, in an instant, hela was robed once more, as she steadied your knees, pulling you up to your trembling feet. “now that is what i would call a divine intervention.” a smirk riddled your lips as you stood, your robe still torn, exposing the curve, and the entirety to your beautiful breasts; agatha felt as though she were in a trance.

you were so perfect, like all the tales had foretold. hela shook her head at your incensed pun, rolling her eyes at your consistent humour. “i liked this one, she was less bold than the others that we have previously visited.” noted the goddess of death, stepping back and dragging you back with her as a beam of light cascaded down through the sky, ripping the pair of you away from your current destination.

once it disappeared, the pair of you were gone; vanished. though evidence of your presence remained, agatha licked her lips, tasting you, as she simultaneously felt the affect that the pair of you had endured upon her between her dampened legs. it was a day that the stray witch would never forget, it was indeed, a memory that would surpass through her mind as she gained control, and thus more power.

[pascalpanic]

Cooking in the Crest (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

Summary: You become sick of the endless prepackaged food you eat while living on the Razor Crest. From a holovid, you and Din try to learn how to cook.

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: FOOD is a big warning here; this is all about food, cooking, and eating; some language, and mentions of violence and blood because Din is a hunter.

A/N: this was a request by lovely @binarydanvvers !! I hope you guys like it too :))

The Razor Crest was not exactly built to be a home. The beat up old ship, a pre-Imperial piece of garbage, was mainly meant to be a freighter, to carry loads and supplies around. It had a bunk, yes, but that was mainly for the pilot to sleep. Some ships were elaborately built and crafted to house people, even families; this was not one of them.

You could tell that from the moment you walked aboard. This was not built to be a home, but the Mandalorian and his little green child had made it one. It was endearing, really. It was still cold and harsh, not exactly welcoming, but there were little touches. A sling for the baby to sleep in above the man’s bunk. A few scattered toys for the kid. Extra clothing tucked away, and what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

It can hardly be called a kitchen. It’s more of a food storage area. The Mandalorian man has stored packets of food, dried or wrapped, water, and other assorted food necessities in a small corner of the ship. There’s also a device for heating meals, like the just-add-water foods he carries so many of.

The baby doesn’t complain. Well, he really can’t, considering that he cannot speak yet, but he never pushes away the food. Of course, his favorites are frogs and occasional organic things he picks up on the surface of the latest planet, but he’s never refused a nutrient bar or an instant bread loaf. The kid is always hungry; he’ll take anything.

You’ve been traveling with Din for a while now. He entrusted you with his name not long after he entrusted you with the care of his foundling. He’s a kind man, surprising beneath the layer of impenetrable beskar, with a warm laugh even through the modulator.

In this time, you’ve become exhausted over the endless routine of microwavable carbohydrate packs with dried proteins. A nutrient bar is a nice switch, but it’s endless days and nights of bland food. “Do you even eat? Does your species photosynthesize or something?” You’d asked Din once, teasingly knocking on his beskar.

“I’m human,” he assured you, voice dry. He presents himself as tired of your endless teasing, but you both know he could never be. You’re the energy, the entertainment to him and his little green child.

“I doubt that,” you teased, nudging his hip with your own as you walked past, the baby on your other side, giggling at your words.

The kid is smart. He can’t yet speak, but he can recognize meaning in words and the emotions you convey with your tones. You’ve been steadily working on teaching him the right morphemes to form words, but he’s just not quite there yet. He made a little babbling noise at his father, then turned and looked up at you, grinning with tiny white teeth.

Din must eat, you’ve come to notice. He never takes the helmet off; you’ve never heard his voice without the modulator, you’ve never seen him eat. But the stock of food dwindles at a quicker pace than it would for one and a half people, so he must consume some of it. You’ve noticed that the dried proteins or instant spicy grains go quicker- those must be his favorite. You’ve made mental notes several times to pick up extra when shopping.

As the three of you take off from the last planet, a lively and populous city center, your stomach is happy with its contents: you and the baby had gone on a culinary tour, trying different local delicacies. You glance at the kitchenette in the corner and wince at the protein bars. Surely you’ll be reduced to eating the dry and chalky sustenance the next time you’re hungry.

The baby sits in your lap, bouncing excitedly as the ship lifts off. He coos and waves his hands excitedly as Din turns and navigates, though it’s nothing too bumpy for the little thing to handle. There’s a jolt when you leave the atmosphere, and the baby squeals as the stars rush past when Din maneuvers the Crest into hyperspace.

Once the course is set, Din turns to you. You wonder what he’s thinking; it’s a shame you can’t see his face. “We should be at our next location in about a day.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you, heightened over the prospect of eating more dried, flavorless food. “Do you know how to cook?”

“Do I know how to what?” Din asks, cocking his head.

“Cook. You know, make food in a way other than using the microwave.”

Din stares at you for a minute. “No, I really don’t. I’ve never had reason to.”

“You don’t consider eating this bland shit eternally a reason?” You ask, folding your arms. The little green baby on your lap mirrors your actions, looking at his father. “I don’t either, but I think we both need to learn. I’m sick of this endless dried food and nutrient bars and instant grains.”

His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath. “Fine. How?”

“How what?” You ask, taunting him back from his earlier sarcastic question.

“How are we going to learn how to cook?”

You shrug. “We could take a cooking class on some populous planet. They have them for couples.”

Din looks at you, sharply even though you can’t see his face. “Okay, well, two people,” you chuckle, though you can’t help but notice the rigidity of his body. You’re skilled at reading his body language by now; something changed in him when you said couple. “Why the hell not?”

“Because, cyar’ika, I am a Mandalorian. I’m not exactly going to fit in with the happy honeymooners at a cooking class, searing bantha for my beloved.”

You frown at him. “You’re such a pain in the ass, Din. Work with me here.”

Din is frowning beneath the helmet. You can just tell. “I don’t exactly take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” you roll your eyes. “It’s a request. Please.”

Din sighs. He’s quiet for a minute. Then: “Fine.”

“Yay!” You grin and brace his beskar helmet in one hand, pressing a kiss to the visor. “It’ll be fun, come on.”

“I don’t know how fun that can be,” he grumbles.

-

The holonet turns out to be a surprisingly vast resource for cooking and recipes. You’d never expected this much to be uploaded to it. There are traditional dishes from Tatooine, Naboo, anywhere really. The first struggle is deciding what to cook.

You stop at another populous planet next. Thank the Maker, you mumble as you put the baby in the wrap carrier that straps him to your chest. “We’re gonna make something good, huh kiddo?” You ask and smooch the baby’s little green head. He just coos in return.

Wandering through the planet, you find various little specialty shops, and you mark off the list you’ve created. Spices from the shop specializing in them, fresh vegetables at a stall, meat from a grocer. When the foods are all collected, you return to the ship, where Din has purchased a portable heat source to be used for cooking.

The business Din has on the planet goes quickly and he’s back before you know it. You’ve barely had time to clean the vegetables under the small refresher sink before you hear the clink of beskar and the baby’s excited laughter at his return.

You carry the bowl of vegetables and grin as you spot Din on a crate in the corner, wiping down his armor of blood. “Welcome home, bounty hunter,” you tease as you arrange some crates to form a table and chairs and set the holoprojector in the center. “How’d we do today?”

“Wonderful,” he grumbles as he wipes a smear of mud off his chest plate. He finishes then looks at your arms, holding the ingredients. You set them down and the hot plate as well. “We’re cooking now?”

“I’m hungry,” you shrug.

Din nods. “I suppose. Do you want me to get piloting us out of here and then we can start?”

You shrug again. “We paid for a full day and night. Might as well use it.”

He nods and begins removing his beskar, leaving him in just his flight suit and helmet. You cock an eyebrow at him and tilt your head in confusion. “Don’t wanna get any food on the beskar.”

This makes you genuinely laugh, throwing your head back. “Oh, blood and dirt and mud are okay but no food? You have some odd standards, Din.”

No one has called him by his name since he was a child. You’ve never even said it aloud save for once or twice. The sound of your voice saying it is like the sweetest music; he could listen to it eternally. He’s a little nervous inside, tingly and fluttery from the feeling. Thank the Maker his helmet doesn’t let it show.

“Go wash your hands and let’s get going,” you order him, stacking two extra crates and setting the child on top so he’s the same height as the two of you. He’s delighted by the view, looking around.

You put the vessel on the hot plate then turn it on, unsure of how quickly it heats. Din returns not long later, sitting on his crate across from you. “First step?”

To answer his question, you turn on the holovid. A cheerful Zabrak narrates for you and shows you the steps, starting with the first: to chop the ingredients. Din reaches for his leg and you shoot him a glare, pausing the video. “You were not about to use that knife to prepare our dinner.”

Din just looks at you. “Why not?”

“God, you’re impossible,” you laugh, though it’s lighthearted teasing. “No, use this, a clean one.” You hand it over along with a few vegetables. Din starts cutting with neat precision, the yellow tuber vegetable falling in perfectly round slices to the surface you’d laid down before.

The baby whines in protest; he wants in. Looking around, you scramble for something before giving him the softest vegetable and a plastic utensil. “How’s that?” You ask him.

He’s delighted, slicing his vegetable and mirroring his parents and the video. When the step is finished, you press play again and it informs you to add some of the oil and cook the vegetables first.

Din pours them in, causing a sizzle from the hot cooking vessel. “Ooh, it must be ready,” you grin and drizzle some oil over the top.

“I don’t think that’s the order we were supposed to do it,” he points out, rewinding the video.

“Oh well,” you shrug and stir the vegetables. The aromatic plants waft from the steam, making you sigh in happiness at how wonderful the recipe smells, even now. “Can you smell under there?”

Din shakes his head.

You frown. “I’ll close my eyes. Lift your helmet and take a smell, it’s delicious.” You squeeze them shut as if to prove you’ll do it.

He would never trust anyone else like this. He’s surprised he even trusts you enough, but he unlatches his helmet and lifts it just enough to catch a whiff of the delicious smell. He sighs happily too and puts the helmet back on. “You can look again.”

You open your eyes and smile at him. “Well, we’re not doing terribly! What’s next?”

The video plays a little longer, telling you the next steps: add the spices to the cooking vegetables, stirring them in, then the broth you’ve purchased.

Picking up the bag, you rummage through for the intended spices. “You wanna do this part?” You ask Din.

“I’ll probably mess up.”

“Give it a shot,” you say with a warm smile and hand him several small pouches of spices and a measuring stick.

His fingers are thick and worn without the gloves, and the sight of them pinching the bright orange powder and sprinkling some in the pot is truly humanizing, indicative that this man is Din, not The Mandalorian like you knew him as before. He does that with the required spices, choosing to go by heart rather than the measured values.

You go next, adding the broth to the pot and closing your eyes to listen to the beautiful hiss of the liquid against the hot metal. “Do you think you could cook on beskar?” You tease Din. The man just shakes his head.

The recipe then indicates for you to cut up the meat and add it before covering and letting it boil. Din uses the sharp knife you’ve provided to once again, neatly slice the meat and add it to the pan. “You’re quite precise with that thing,” you inform him with an impressed nod.

He snorts. “I know the ten quickest ways to kill someone with it.”

“Still, precise to do that,” you laugh. You cover the pot and sigh, setting a timer on the holopad to the amount of time needed before the meal will be ready; thanks to the specialized tech in the hot plate, it won’t take long at all.

The baby shows you his knife work with the mushed vegetable. It’s considerably less impressive than Din’s, but you ooh and ahh over it all the same, making the baby beam with pride. “Your knife work rivals your father’s, little man,” you tease the baby and poke his side.

“Yeah right,” he snorts again and leans back against the metal wall of the Razor Crest’s hull.

While the food carries on its quick cooking, you prepare three bowls and spoons to eat with, setting each in front of where the three of you sit. The bowl is much smaller for the child, but he seems just as pleased.

The timer dings and you clap your hands together in excitement. “Let’s see!”

Lifting the lid, the smell that wafts out makes your stomach growl. “Oh, this is going to be good,” you sigh, setting the lid aside on the heatproof surface and scooping some into each bowl. “Careful, it’s hot,” you warn your boys as you a hand them their respectful bowls.

“It sounds wonderful but… you know I can’t eat it,” Din reminds you.

That makes you frown. “Of course you can. We made it together.”

“No,” he sighs. “I can’t eat it because I’d have to remove my helmet.”

The idea crosses your mind as quickly as his words. “Well then.” You stand and push your crate aside, then pull him up and do the same. With your bowl of stew in hand, you plop down on the floor and turn your back to him. “Now you sit with your back to me.”

“Cyare, I-“

“Just humor me, Din. Please.”

He sighs and gets on the floor, groaning at the creak of his joints and popping of his back. Din presses his back to yours, sitting with his legs splayed carelessly to either side. “There. This what you wanted?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Now eat. I won’t look, and the kid is your foundling, he can see you.”

Din is hesitant at first. He sits there for a moment while the baby slurps his dinner, pondering what to do. Then he remembers how much he trusts yoh. How you’d do anything for him and he’d do anything for you.

He removes his helmet, setting it to the floor with a heavy clunk. “There we go,” you smile and reach behind you to pat his chest. “Eat up. I bet you’re hungry from that hunt.”

“Hungrier from making this,” he grumbles as he scoops a spoonful, ungracefully shoving it in his mouth and moaning in content. “Oh, that’s damn good.”

“Isn’t it?” You laugh, eating some yourself and smiling at the flavor. “Seasoned just right,” you affirm him, resting your head back against his own. You can feel that he has hair- well, now you know he isn’t bald.

“Cooked properly thanks to you,” he reminds you.

“Ha! I don’t know shit about cooking. Thank that holovid,” you chuckle, nestling your back against his. You can feel every little notch of his spine, the lumps in a perfect line cascading down his body, as his back presses against yours. He’s warm, and you can feel him breathe in and out slowly- he’s relaxed. Good.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you eat your meals. The kid has long finished his tiny bowl and has passed out in his seat, which makes you laugh. He’s missing the sight of his helmetless father thanks to a post-meal nap.

No words need to be exchanged. There’s meaning in the silence, in the fact that you can hear his breathing and his real voice, the hard gulp of his throat as he swallows yet another bite. Maker, he’s so wonderfully human. You absolutely adore it.

When you’re done with your stew, you set your bowl to the side. Din does the same, and his back relaxes against yours. Neither of you are quite ready for him to put the helmet back on, so you breathe the unfiltered air with him, listen and feel him breathing, try to take in every detail of what his body feels like pressed to yours, even if it’s back to back.

“Din?” You ask softly after a few moments.

“Yes, cyare?”

“I promise my eyes are closed,” you tell him.

“What do you mean-“

Din is cut off when you close your eyes but turn, kissing his cheek. You can feel stubble beneath your lips, and above it smooth skin. God, he feels so damn warm. With your eyes still closed, you hug his neck. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

Din breathes slowly, forcing his heart rate not to accelerate into hyperspeed. “It’s not putting up with you,” he admits. “It’s enjoying you. I really do.”

The words make you flushed and flustered, honored that this strong and silent type has used such eloquent words to compliment you. “Thank you. For all of this, Din. Thank you for letting me know you.”

He’s grinning ear to ear, and he turns his face to kiss your cheek back. “You can know me all you want to, mesh’la.” Din puts his hands over your arms and takes one last moment in your arms. “Well, we need to put the child to bed, and I’m legally supposed to be wearing my helmet right now.”

You turn and sit with your back to him, smiling and nearly giddy from the moment. “Who’s gonna yell at you if you don’t? Mando police?”

Din groans and puts his helmet back on, ignoring you. When you both stand, you hug him for real this time, chests pressed together. “Thank you for a wonderful meal,” he mumbles through the modulator and presses his forehead to yours in a keldabe kiss. “Let’s do this more often.”

“I agree,” you nod and kiss his helmet one last time.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @tacticalsparkles @queridopascal

[therenlover]

Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk (A Young Revolutionary!Zemo x Non-Binary Reader Oneshot)

(a/n: so, in honor of barricade day, have this young revolutionary!Zemo fic, which is basically just canon Enjoltaire dynamics but with a Zemo/reader twist on it, because that dynamic is literally my whole heart. Consider this a weird twisted Les Mis au if you want to, but you don’t need to know the book or musical to enjoy this, if it can be enjoyed...) 

Synopsis: Helmut recalls the story of how he came to be the ruthless man he is and, more specifically, how he came into possession of his strange purple mask. 

Tags: Canon Compliant, Angst, Young!Zemo, Non-Binary!Reader, Death, Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers????, Implied Sexual Content, Friendship, Pining, Revolution, Speedrunning A Slow Burn

Rating: M (+16) 

Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Gun Violence, Drinking, Minor Homophobia/Transphobia (it’s one sentence near the end and it’s very vague coming from Heinrich), Swearing, Survivor’s Guilt, Really Just Death Everywhere

Word Count: 10,200~

“What’s with the mask?” 

The question was innocent enough.

Sam posed it while lounging on the expensive couch of Zemo’s Riga apartment, head tilted back and eyes closed in silent contemplation. 

Bucky remained silent as Zemo glanced over from his place at the counter. Outside, the sun was long gone, giving way to a stunning moonrise over the city that poured through the stained glass windows and lit up the night with its glow. It was quiet, much quieter than things usually were between the trio. Still, things being quiet didn’t mean they weren’t tense.

Clenching his teeth, he took in a long breath through his nose. “I am unsure what you mean by that, Sam,” 

“The mask,” Sam pushed, “you know, the one you wore during the fight in Madripoor. What’s the deal with that?” 

“Ah yes. That mask,” As if on cue, Zemo took a long swig from his glass. It burned all the way down. He didn’t speak again, though, instead choosing to let his gaze fall on the elaborate tilework above his countertops, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Anything to divert himself from the thoughts that rushed back into his mind at the thought of the knit piece of cloth that sat firmly in his inner coat pocket. 

Unfortunately for him, Sam wasn’t satisfied with letting the topic fizzle out. “Come on man,” he griped, rubbing a hand over his face, “we got you out of prison, so you owe us one. In fact, you owe us a lot. So, spill. What the hell is the deal with it? Were you Sokovian batman or something?”

That urged a dry laugh from the baron’s lips as he set his crystal glass on the counter with a little more force than was necessary. “Are you always so interested in your captives’ personal lives?” 

“Usually,” Bucky chimed in dryly. 

“I suppose I’m outnumbered,” Zemo sighed. The bile rising in his throat was easy enough to force down as he turned himself out on his stool to face the room. It wasn’t the right time for true weakness, not yet, but he couldn’t deny that painting himself in a desirable light and offering the pair honesty might give him the upper hand. So, he folded. 

Slowly he retrieved the purple mask from his coat and turned it over in his hands. It still fit after all the years it had sat gathering dust in his storage unit which was a blessing in its own right. It still served its original purpose too. That mask had seen horrors beyond imagination, had been washed clean of blood more times than could be counted. Did it hold the memories of the things it had seen within its fabrics as Zemo did in his mind? Or was it as naive as he had been at the time of its creation? He let out a bitter laugh. That was a question they would have asked him. 

As he exchanged his literal mask for one entirely emotional, Zemo leaned back on his stool and managed a smile. “How educated are you on Sokovian politics?” 

Sam shut his eyes again, letting his head lol back once more. “I went to public school, so I don’t think I even knew Sokovia existed until it didn’t,” 

“I know enough,” Bucky added. From his place leaning against the way, ever vigilant and ready to jump into an imagined battle, he turned to face Zemo and crossed his arms. “Hydra had fingers in the government there, more so than other places. There was a big power struggle in the ’90s when the king died, right? Because people wanted democracy, and they didn’t want the little shithead prince to take over,”

“Yes,” Zemo nodded, “My cousin Emil. I’m glad you’re familiar,”

 A spluttered laugh escaped Sam’s lips as he shot up. “I know I shouldn’t be surprised by this stuff anymore, but damn,” 

“He and I weren’t close,” Zemo waved his hand dismissively, and yet there was a strange sadness in his eyes. It wasn’t for his cousin, though. Not in the least. “But James was correct, there were riots in the streets when the king died. They were shut down quickly by the National Guard, though, who had more than a little help from Hydra’s favorite supersoldiers once they realized just how much power the citizens held. What street were you assigned to, James?” 

Bucky sucked in his cheeks, eyes falling to the floor, but before Sam could butt in and defend him he had muttered an answer. “I cleared the barricade at 18th Avenue, the second largest. Those kids fought valiantly,” 

Zemo hummed lowly. “And so they did,” 

“Okay, what does any of this have to do with your stupid purple mask?” Sam exclaimed.

He was sitting up fully now, face turned to where Zemo had stood from his stool and begun to round the bar. His mask still sat in a small ball on the marble. It seemed to be a member of the conversation all its own, silent and sure, drawing all three men together as it weaved a story from the past into the present with its very presence. 

“That mask served me well and hid my identity when I stood against the very men that were serving my family,” Zemo muttered, letting his fingers brush the fabric gently. The names of the lost sat heavy on his very soul even if they would never pass from his lips. 

Hans, Andrei, Ivan, Vladimir, Anton, Lazlo, Nicholas, little Sebastian… 

Y/N. 

“I was young then, too young for my own good,” he said softly, “naive and hopeful and convinced that the world was able to change for the better if I simply willed it to be… so when I discovered the connection between my family and Hydra I packed up my things, emptied my bank account, and moved into a tiny apartment with another like-minded friend, Hans Perlitch,” a soft laugh escaped him, genuine and youthful and all too honest, “We preached to the hungry masses of a world free from the thumb of the elite and all the while we would return home to a heated apartment and a stocked pantry. Still, we were well-liked and gathered a bit of a following. That was when everything changed, the early fall of 1997…” 

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

“You know, for someone who claims to be as smart as you say you are, you’re quite a fool,” 

The voice came from the back of the room, smoke still hanging thick in the air from the cigarettes shared by the masses of students that had packed the tiny repurposed stockroom of the bar while Helmut had given his speech for the week.

He didn’t give the interloper the dignity of his full attention as he gathered a few of his scattered notes from the table that served as his soapbox. Still, he was in a generally good mood. Almost double the usual students had shown up for the meeting and a few had even chimed in to ask questions, so he took a deep breath and resigned himself to the fact that rooting out one ignorant opposer now would mean less work in the long run. “I’ve never claimed to be smart, so I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to,” 

A scoff came from the back of the room, but the person made no effort to come closer. “You can change your last name and present yourself as a member of the public all you want, but someday someone is gonna recognize that pretty face of yours, and your whole revolution is going to come crumbling to the ground,” 

Now that was enough to make him pause.

“How did you-”

“How could I not?”

It was sardonic, biting and harsh in the worst of ways. Everything about the tone made Helmut’s blood boil beneath his skin. He was not one who enjoyed being threatened or outdone. Still, the play was out of his hands now, should this strange intruder choose to ruin him. 

Biting his tongue, he finally turned to face them. “You have my attention, now what do you want?”

Across the room, the stranger remained unphased. They were relatively unremarkable, a bottle of cheap beer held firmly in their grip as they toasted to nothing and drank down the remaining dregs. With a smile and a chuckle, they propped their feet up on the small, round table before them. Something about that sight lit a fire in Helmut’s chest. He didn’t know who they were, or why he was there, but he was certain that he despised them already. 

“I don’t want anything,” They replied, and with a certain grandness reserved for a gamin mocking the bourgeoisie, they flourished with their hands, letting their booted feet drop to the ground as they stood and bowed. “I’m just saying that if you’re trying to convince people that you’re not the missing baron while you’re pretending to be all impoverished and rallying us commoners, you might want to change more than your last name and your fashion sense,”

Helmut gritted his teeth. “So what? Did you come here just to rub my face in it, or are you going to help me make a change?” 

That elicited a small snort from the stranger, but they did take the opportunity to traipse up to meet him at his table, leaning on the edge as they gazed up at him with a strange look in their eyes that he couldn’t quite identify. Their face was soft upon closer examination, alive and bright with a merriment that only came from intoxication. It made Helmut sneer involuntarily. 

Licking their lips, they murmured, “Make a change? Is that what you think you’re doing?” and as they let a giggle escape their parted lips Helmut lost it. 

He gasped them firmly by the front of their baggy sweater and dragged them in close. “At least I’m trying! What are you doing about it? Extorting the only person who might be able to actually make a change in this shithole of a country? That’s so much more helpful!” 

Their faces were inches apart as Helmut spat his words like venom and yet the stranger never stopped smiling. It was almost dopey, the grin that made its way across their lips. Helmut couldn’t stand it. 

“You know, baron,” they purred, setting down their empty bottle on the table beside them, “I like you. I might just stick around here for a little while, see what else about your little plan I can pick apart,” 

Never in his life had Helmut been less thrilled for someone to join his cause. 

“Why are you here anyway,” he groaned, releasing their shirt, “don’t you have something better to do with your Friday night than bother me?” and, as an extra jab, he added, “besides drinking yourself to death, of course,” 

The jab didn’t land, though. 

Taking it all in stride, the stranger simply grinned as if they too knew how badly they stank of cheap alcohol and was thrilled that someone had noticed. “Anton invited me. He said I should get out more, make some friends. It’s just a coincidence that I happened to recognize you while writing down an itemized list of all the things you got wrong while you grandstanded,” There was a pride in their words, a giddy energy burbling just beneath the surface of their skin, and suddenly it all made sense. 

Anton was newer to their group, a poet and a free thinker, something hard to find in the slums of Novi Grad. Still, he lightened the impromptu meetings up with his smile and would often spend the hour scrawling away fervently in his notebook as he immortalized each and every word that was said “for posterity”. Helmut was sure that only someone as accepting as Anton would ever choose to spend their time with someone quite as insufferable as the person before him. Suddenly, and uncomfortably, he became aware that he didn’t even know their name. 

Swallowing down a nasty barb, Helmut sighed and offered up his hand, which the stranger took after a moment of pause. “And you are?” 

“Y/N,” They replied.

“Well, Y/N,” he spat their name from his mouth like a cherry pit, “I suppose I’ll have to get used to having a man like you-”

“Don’t call me that,” 

Helmut cocked his head to the side. “Pardon?”

“Don’t call me a man,” Y/N replied, “and before you ask I don’t want to be called a woman either. I’m just… I’m just Y/N, at least for now I am, it’s not like I’d give a rich brat like you my legal name while we’re mixed up in all this illegal, halfway-treasonous nonsense you insist on spouting. Maybe next week I’ll be something completely different and new. Until I tell you otherwise, though, I’m just Y/N, your highness,” 

“Do I dare dream that that means you might learn to respect my ideas?” Helmut sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face and choosing to ignore the sarcastic address in the hopes of letting such things fizzle and die without encouragement. Unfortunately, the goofy grin he got in return told him that was wishful thinking. 

Suddenly, the door opened and Helmut jumped away from his newest tentative ally (if you could call them that) to find Hans standing in the doorway. At his side was Andrei, the third in command of their little posse and final member of the leading triumvirate. They seemed shocked at his lateness and he was quick to try to gather himself up lest they see him as undone as he had found himself while facing the smallest taste of Y/N’s antagonistic nature. 

What had he even been doing when they interrupted him? It took him a moment to even gather himself together enough to remember. Scanning the room, his eyes fell on the papers 

Oh yes, he had been gathering up his notes…

He was quick to finish the task as Y/N sauntered away towards the door, preparing to push past the two men who stood beyond it. 

“You’re Anton’s friend, right?” Hans asked, back stiff. When Y/N nodded he did little more than give a noncommittal noise from the back of his throat. He had always been good with making things impersonal as he crunched the numbers and calculated probabilities. That was why Helmut liked him so much. 

Andrei, on the other hand, provided a needed warmth to their leadership in his outreach. 

He smiled warmly at Y/N and clapped a hand on their shoulder. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of you around,” 

Y/N was quick to offer one of their signature grins before winking back at Helmut in a way that made his stomach turn. “Oh, you’ll be seeing plenty of me from now on,” 

“We’re glad to have you,” Andrei replied as they passed. 

Before they fully left, though, they turned one last time to shoot Helmut a final smile. “Till next Friday, fearless leader,” 

Then, Y/N was gone, lost in the crowd of revelers beyond the small, smokey storeroom and, more importantly, beyond where Helmut’s eyes could follow. Somehow, despite everything, he missed having them there. He quickly chalked the feeling up to wanting to keep a close eye on people with the ability to thwart his best-laid plans and left it at that. Besides, he had no room in his heart for anything besides the betterment of Sokovia. 

Attachments meant the possibility of other priorities, and other priorities got people killed. He couldn’t have that happening on his watch. 

Thankfully, Hans snapped him out of his melancholy quickly. “Do you have everything sorted?” 

Helmut gave a short nod before tapping the pile of papers against the table and setting out towards the door, abandoning his thoughts and feelings about his interaction with Y/N at the table as he exited the room and gathered himself once more into the man his friends needed him to be. 

He could only hope that as long as he ignored Y/N’s jabs, they would soon grow tired and be gone within the month once they realized he was anything but afraid of their little games. 

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

Much to Helmut’s abject disappointment, Y/N did not, in fact, stop showing up. 

They did quite the opposite. 

Instead of leaving him well enough alone, they showed up to Helmut’s meetings every single Wednesday and Friday for months, always piss drunk and happy to jeer at him from the corner, shouting their unwanted opinions and throwing off every meeting with their nonsense.

It was as if they did it just to get on his nerves, and get on his nerves they did.

As the seasons changed, from spring, to winter, to fall, and, finally, to the very beginnings of summer, so did the types of jabs Y/N decided to throw. 

In the beginning it was all business, comments on the idiocy of his plans for a protest based on common police routes or mocking jokes about his unending optimism when it came to fighting the national guard on a large scale, but as things began to get more and more serious on the path towards a full-fledged revolt, they seemed to aim more and more of their vitriol towards Helmut personally.

Sometimes it was a comment on his face or voice. “Ease up pretty boy,” they’d jeer, “keep talking like that and a guardsman might just do more than knock out a few of your perfect teeth,” Other times, which Helmut found infinitely worse, they’d throw a jab at his ability to lead them to victory. “The only thing that waits for us at the end of this is a painful death, especially if you’re not joking about those fucking super soldiers they supposedly have on ice,” 

The worst part was that half the time, Y/N was right. 

Helmut hated to admit it but it was true. More than once he had to go back and edit his plans to take into account a valid point thrown in by Y/N that he had never even considered. Hell, if it had been anyone else picking him to nothing he would have been grateful, but it wasn’t a well-meaning contributor trying to make the world a better place, it was a drunk who seemed to have one solitary life goal: making his life as miserable as possible. Perhaps that’s why they had devolved to frantic angry fucks behind crates of wine and massive cans of chocolate spread after the worst of their arguments…

Not that Helmut cared for them. 

No, he didn’t do attachments. Neither did Y/N. They hated each other, after all. 

It was just a way to release their tensions at the end of stressful meetings and nothing more. They were dealing with matters of life and death after all. It was only normal to seek comfort in the warmth of a companion, if he could even call Y/N a companion.

Whether he liked it or not, though, they were they to stay, even if they rarely made themself useful to the cause.

By early June, the drunkard had become close friends with all of the remaining students that still gathered at Helmut’s location for meetings instead of ending up at the offshoots that began to form once the group got too big to pile into the storeroom. Helmut loathed thinking about it, but Y/N was probably invited to more birthdays and Saturday night get-togethers than he ever was. There was something about their smile that drew people in. It made them feel wanted, welcome. Helmut hated that he never got those smiles from Y/N, only ever the mocking, blithe kind that they handed out freely to friends and enemies alike. 

He didn’t have time to think about that, though. Not with so much fast approaching as the first pears began to hang from branches down in the royal orchards, soft and ripe and ready to be harvested. Their growth marked King Hugo’s daily weakening. His death could come any day, and when it did, Helmut knew he would need to strike quickly if he truly hoped to overturn the system before the coronation of his cousin. That meant every meeting, now more frequently held throughout the week, was filled to the brim with preparations and planning. 

Well, preparations and planning and a healthy dose of Y/N and Helmut yelling at each other about nonsense across the room until Anton or Laszlo stepped in to pull Y/N down into their chair once more so the meeting could resume and they could all go home before things got too late and they were questioned in the street on why they were possibly out and about at such an hour.

Things were no different on that Friday meeting on June 4th. 

“Is there anyone here who isn’t already passing out pamphlets in the dorms at NVU tonight?” Helmut asked the room, scanning for a hand that didn’t belong to his least favorite member of the group. Unfortunately, none came up. “Come one now, at least one of you has to be free,”

Y/N groaned. “It’s like you don’t even see my hand waving up here, oh great one,” There they went again with the ridiculous terms of address that made Helmut’s blood sizzle in his veins. He remained composed, though. At least, as composed as he could be given the situation.

“I’m ignoring you because I remember the last time I asked your drunk ass to pass out pamphlets. What round of dominos were you on by the time I showed up to check on you, five or six?” 

The scalding remark was enough to get Y/N to sheepishly lower their hand, eyes downcast. It was getting easier and easier for Helmut to manage to shut them up the more frantic meetings got, and he couldn’t say he was displeased by that fact no matter why it was the way that it was. A quiet Y/N meant less chance for mistakes which meant fewer future casualties. Fewer casualties were good, it was what he strived for. 

Thankfully for Helmut, a new hand came up. 

It belonged to Vladimir, the oldest of the group by a year rounding out at an even 26 years old. He was dependable, definitely the kind who could be trusted to run an errand as important as the one Helmut needed to have done. The thought that Vladimir would be the one to pick up the shipment of smuggled guns was a relief. He made as much evident while explaining their next moves. 

Throughout the remainder of the meeting, though, Helmut couldn’t help but feel watched. It didn’t last long, half an hour at most. Still, there was the creeping itch on the back of his neck that told him there were eyes on him that he wasn’t aware of. Only when the group was dismissed and the feeling didn’t go away did he realize exactly who was staring at him so intently.

“I hope you know I really did intend to hand out those pamphlets,” Y/N said once they were the last one remaining, the rest of the group having trickled out to get food and drinks before heading home for the night. It wasn’t unusual for Helmut and Y/N to be the last two remaining at the end of a meeting. That didn’t mean he was happy about it though. 

So, instead of offering up an acknowledgment, he busied himself with plotting out a few potential spots to barricade the roads and hunker down when things got messy in highlighter on the large, laminated map of Novi Grad that had found its home on the big front table.

Y/N didn’t let up, though. They never did. “I know you don’t believe me, why would you, but I did. I just wanted to loosen them up before I started talking about overthrowing the damn government, which is a terrible plan, by the way. Have I told you that lately?”

“Only every time you see me,” Helmut sighed. 

Somehow, that made Y/N smile, soft and sarcastic and all too honest. Helmut didn’t know how they managed it. Secretly, he envied their neverending veracity. He’d never say that though. No, not while they crossed the floor and offered up a large bottle of whiskey. 

“A drink, dear leader?” 

“Absolutely not” He griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many times do I need to remind you I don’t drink?” 

“Too many,” 

“For once, I agree with you,” 

A laugh passed through Y/N’s plush lips and, regrettably, Helmut couldn’t help but look up at them and relish in the sight. Their hair was a bit longer than they usually grew it out, a particularly unruly piece tucked behind their ear. Helmut hated that he noticed little details like that, despised the way he had come to know the soft dip of their cupid’s bow and the warmth of their palm. It was still Y/N, after all, for better or worse. He couldn’t help but allow himself those small recognitions though. It made him feel human, or something close to it. 

Still, all good things must come to an end, and they did when Y/N decided to speak again. “You know, the longer I show up for these stupid meetings, the more I think you’re actually gonna try to go up against those bastards,” 

Helmut should have known the barb was coming, but perhaps his better nature, if it truly existed, prevented that. Nevertheless, he sighed into his hands as he dropped his highlighter. “If I didn’t intend to actually try to change things, why would I have spent the last year of my life living in a shitty apartment and putting up with you?”

“You’d be surprised the things people do and never finish. Not everyone is as driven as you are,” Y/N huffed. They were quick to seat themself on the table once Helmut wasn’t actively working over it, smearing the highlighter away on their corduroy pants. “Nobody would blame you if you did tap out, you know. There are plenty of ways to make a change that don’t involve trying to take down the entire local Sokovian military force until they decide to give you what you want,”

“The changes we could make without a revolt wouldn’t really be changes, they’d just be the illusion of changes. You know that as well as I do,” Helmut replied with a groan. 

Two of the fingers from Y/N’s free hand, the one that wasn’t gripping their bottle like a lifeline, pointed towards the closed door behind them. “Is living under our current system and knowing they have fingers in a few less-than-savory organizations really worse than leading all of your friends to their deaths?” 

That struck a nerve in Helmut’s chest.

“And who says that has to be true?” 

“Come on, oh benevolent and giving baron,” Y/N’s voice was light yet pointed, like a million minuscule particles of glass flying through the air, “Do you really think we’re all gonna make it out of a fight with the big guys? And even if all of us do, can you say the same for the poor kids fighting where we aren’t?”

“I never said there would be no casualties-”

“What about Sebastian? The kid is barely 12 and I know you’re going to say that if he tries to show up, you’re gonna send him home, but I think you underestimate how many people will want even someone as young as him dead if they catch him in the street. Are you really going to let him risk his life for this? A half-assed plan for you to get revenge on your asshole relatives for making your childhood shitty?” 

“You know that’s not what this is about,” 

“Do I?” Y/N asked, and for just a second, no, a millisecond, Helmut wasn’t sure anymore. It was only a brief moment though, nothing more. The fact that they could make him doubt himself do deeply though… it was a problem. Calling it that was an understatement, but there was no other way to put it that truly worked. 

Helmut growled lowly and nodded, pushing the doubt from his mind. He was right. He had to be right. What would he be if he was wrong? A spoiled rich boy who was leading his friends to their dooms for nothing? 

No.

He had to be right, so he was. It was as simple as that.

“Is there anything else you need to critique, or can you leave me to work now?” Helmut asked. His patience had long since worn thin. That didn’t matter much to Y/N, though. They liked to wear him down thin, see just how far they could push without breaking his resolve. It was a game they were both intimately acquainted with. 

They played their hand expertly. “In fact,” Y/N smiled while they spoke, another mocking little grin that made Helmut’s stomach turn in the best and worst of ways, “there is one last thing I needed to ask about,” 

“I shudder to think what it might be,”

“How are you going to hide your face?” 

The question caught Helmut off-guard as he leaned back on his heels, letting his forearms brace against the edge of the table, his face scrunching up in thought. “What?” 

Y/N gestured absently towards his face before bringing their bottle to their lips. “I’m betting that your family will expect you to be out there whenever we actually stage our attack. If I’m right, that means the soldiers will be looking for you as their top priority, and if they find you, they’ll kill everybody around you just to get a chance to drag you back to mommy and daddy. Even if they don’t kill us on sight we’ll be charged for harboring you without turning you in to the proper authorities. So, how are you going to hide your face?” 

Once again, Helmut found himself thinking that, despite their drunken stupor, Y/N might just be right, and he hated it. He hated that he hadn’t thought of it first, hated that it was a valid point, hated that he had no satisfying way to answer the question they had posed. He hated it all. 

“I’ll just throw on a bandana,” He managed to grumble, and that was that. 

Or, that should have been that, but Y/N scoffed at the idea, setting down their bottle and leaning in close to Helmut’s face. After a moment of contemplation, they brought their hand up to his face and let their thumb come to rest on one of his largest beauty marks, the mole that rested high on the left side of his nose. “I’m afraid that a bandana isn’t going to cover up your absolutely blinding radiance, fearless leader,” There was a softness to their voice, a gentility Helmut was unused to. It made his chest hurt. He hated that too. 

“Are you going to offer a solution or are you just going to sit there telling me I’m stupid,” His words were a low groan. 

Much to his surprise, though, Y/N reached into their back pocket only to pass him a crumpled purple ball. It was obviously fabric, though the outside seemed to be coated in some sort of weatherproofing, and upon closer inspection, once unraveled, two distinct eyeholes became visible. 

“Is this-”

“A mask?” Y/N finished his sentence for him, “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t think about it, so I whipped something up with some old polyester-based yarn and then I coated it so it wouldn’t be a problem if it got wet. It should still be breathable, though,” 

For the first time since he’d known them, Helmut looked up at Y/N and thought that they were incredibly valuable. He still hated them, of course he did. Y/N was Y/N and he was himself and they hated each other because they were, at their basest, entirely incompatible. 

At his silence, Y/N looked away, almost nervous. “I hope it’s alright,” 

“It’s more than alright,” Helmut said as kindly as he could possibly manage, “I hate to say this, but owe you one,” 

“Could I collect on that debt now?” Minutely, Y/N leaned closer, eyes falling to Helmut’s lips. 

He swallowed thickly. “You’re drunk, Y/N,” 

“I know I am. Isn’t that wonderful?” 

“Why would that be wonderful?” 

“Because that means I won’t remember this,” And, with that, they closed the gap between the two of them and captured Helmut’s lips in his own. 

Kissing Y/N wasn’t a new thing. They had kissed plenty of times during their frenzied hookups; soft kisses and hard kisses and long kisses and short kisses. Still, Helmut would never get used to the thrill of it. That was yet another thing he hated about Y/N. He could never quite get used to them. Every single interaction always felt as fresh and raw as their first. 

With a fervor only he could muster, Helmut kissed back and pushed at Y/N’s hips, pressing them harder into the table below, and just as quickly as he had gained a physical mask, he had lost his emotional one. 

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

In the end, that was the last time Helmut had slept with Y/N.

They had fallen together, two sweaty half-dressed bodies laid out over the laminated map of Novi Grad, and then Y/N had gathered themself up and left with little more than one last kiss pressed to Helmut’s temple. By the time he himself had gotten home to Hans, the news of King Hugo’s death was almost an hour old.

After a few phone calls to lay the final plans and keep every sect of their band of revolutionaries on the same schedules, things rolled into motion like a finely tuned machine. 

On the morning of June 5th, the barricades rose and Helmut wore his mask proudly as his people fought for freedom in the streets he had walked since childhood. Y/N was beside him. 

By the early hours of June 6th, they were the only barricade that remained. 

Helmut should have known that once things got too challenging that the super soldiers would be released, he should have anticipated that they’d be waiting for the backlash once king Hugo passed, and yet he hadn’t. He had blindly walked into the disaster with his eyes wide open. There was no one to blame but himself. 

Little Sebastian, just one month shy of 13 years old, was dead, shot at long distance when he had attempted to grab a fallen box of bullets that had toppled over the peak of the jumble of hoarded furniture and scrap metal. Anton was dead too, taken at gunpoint while he stood guard at a side street and executed with his eyes bound and a sonnet on his lips. Even Ivan, stoic and strong Ivan who bound his knuckles in boxer’s tape and sparred with Helmut when he needed to clear his head, had been caught in the initial fire and bled out over the course of the day, dying with a smile on his face as he leaned on a discarded chair.

I never said there’d be no casualties.

His own words rang in his ears, taunted him with every bullet he shot and every breath he dragged into his aching lungs. How had he ever been so naive to believe that even one life could be expendable?  

The real lowest point came at almost midnight when Helmut picked up a call from a student on another barricade only to met with screaming. “Winter is coming!” They had wailed, “Winter is coming!” and then they had died, right there over speakerphone. Helmut had the good sense to hang up once it got to the worst of it, the strangled gurgled growing to be too much for the group. 

As things truly settled, in those hours so early that the world still considered them night, Helmut still stood vigilant. That’s when Y/N finally approached. 

They wore no smile, not like usual. Instead, their face was stoic as they came to stand beside Helmut and waited silently for a moment. He took the chance to beat them to the punch. 

“You don’t have to tell me you were right. I know you were,” I hate you for it.

Y/N offered a gentle, humorless laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in at a time like this, but yeah, I was,” I know you do. I hate myself for it too. 

Slowly, Helmut brought a hand to his face, scrubbing the exhaustion away from his eyes. How had it all come to this? 

“How much time do you think we have,” Y/N was speaking before he had a chance to say anything more, saving him from having to elaborate on his admission. He was grateful. Grateful to not be alone, grateful to be spared more shame, grateful to see Y/N’s gentle smile one more time. He’d never show it though. No, he was to be the fearless leader till the end. 

So, he sucked in a deep breath and stared out into the starry sky. “A few hours at most. I’m surprised they haven’t made another advance after the last big push in the evening when we lost…” he swallowed thickly, “when we lost Anton,” 

Licking their lips and pushing back their hair, Y/N sighed. “For what it’s worth, for a minute there I really believed you could do it,” 

It was a bigger compliment than it seemed and they both knew it, but neither acknowledged it. Instead, Helmut gestured absently towards the half-full bottle of wine in Y/N’s hand. “You mind if I have a drink of that?” 

A grin spread across their lips, but it was as far from mocking as was possible as they passed the bottle over. 

“I never thought I’d see the day,”

Lifting the bottom of his mask to take a swig, Helmut groaned at the deep, bitter burn of it. “Don’t get used to it,” He replaced the fabric quickly before passing the bottle back. 

“I’ll try not to,” 

“Happy 20th, by the way,” Y/N added, “this is a hell of a way to celebrate, but it’s very you,” 

Helmut froze as the realization sunk in that it was, in fact, the 6th of June, even if it had only been that way for a couple hours. 

There had been a party planned. It was just an intimate thing, cake and a few card games in the afternoon with his closest friends, but that was long behind them now, forgotten in favor of the larger cause. To Y/N, though, there was never a larger cause than Helmut himself. He was realizing that slowly. In a bitter moment of realization, he laughed. 

“What?” 

“You weren’t invited,” 

They quirked up an eyebrow. “Huh?” 

“To the birthday party. I didn’t invite you,” 

“Well, I’m here now, and this is a pretty good party if I do say so myself. You and me and the revolution all jam-packed together in the middle of a street. Wouldn’t it be cool if the new democracy was born on the same day you were?” 

He smiled softly. “It was meant to be,” 

“I got you something, you know, even though I knew I wasn’t invited to the party,” Y/N added breathlessly. “It was stupid, just some dumb sweater with a whole bunch of random ass quotes from Machiavelli all over the back, but Anton and I saw it when we visited the better side of town to hang up those fliers for the march a few weeks ago and we knew you had to have it. It’s sitting all wrapped up on my front table,” 

“It’s a shame I won’t get to open it today,”

They nodded distantly. “Yeah, a real shame…”  

Then, they were quiet again, staring up at the stars mere feet away from each other and yet miles apart, farther than they’d ever been. 

Y/N cut through the soundless night first, but not before several silent minutes had passed, filled with only the distant chatter of their surviving friends and the gentle whistling of the breeze over the rooftops above. “When everything goes to shit… with the universe, I mean, not now. Everything’s already gone to shit now. But that notwithstanding, when the world goes kaput and the sun explodes, we’re all gonna be starstuff together, right? You and I and Sebastian and Andrei and Anton and… all of us. We’re gonna be nothing but matter and dust out there in space,” 

“Is there a point to this or are you just having an existential crisis?” Helmut muttered, but there was no bite to it. 

They just chuckled as their eyes scanned the sky. 

“I was just thinking, if all of us are gonna be nothing more than matter and dust and star stuff, it only makes sense that someday, even if it’s a billion years from now, a little part of each of us will be together again as part of some supernova in the sky to be seen by somebody else, and, when that day comes, I think I’m gonna know, and everything is gonna be alright,” 

He hummed thoughtfully, running a hand absently over the thick purple knit of his mask, relishing in the gummy softness of the coating on his bare fingertips in the cooling air. “That makes no sense,” 

“Do you think I don’t know that?” 

“Still, it’s a pretty thought. Anton would have liked it,” 

“Yeah, he would have…”  

Helmut let his eyes fall from the sky to his companion. They looked so fragile, so broken, that he could barely stand himself, because, if he hadn’t made the stupid choices to lead them here, they never would have felt that way. They’d be curled up in bed somewhere, asleep and safe, far from the cold darkness of the night at his side. It made him sick. 

How could he possibly put that to words? How could he apologize for denying every nudge, every chance to turn around? He couldn’t, and it made him as bitter as the wine that Y/N sipped from absently before turning to face him once again. 

“Hey, Helmut,” they whispered, and his breath caught in his throat because how dare his voice sound so sweet on their lips? How dare they keep that joy, the joy of hearing his name whispered with reverence on the early morning breeze, real and caring and perfect, away from him for so long? “Do you think I could take a chair from the barricade?” 

Just as soon as it had come, the joy was gone. “Why would you need a chair?” 

Y/N shrugged. “I want to go sleep,” 

“Why can’t you sleep out here?”

“I don’t want to be woken up,”

“We wouldn’t wake you until the fighting was starting back up again-” 

“Oh, my darling fearless leader,” their voice was empty, tinny and cold, “I don’t ever want to be woken up,” 

Their words pierced Helmut straight through the heart he didn’t know he had. It made him feel so much, so many emotions he had simply not allowed himself out of a misplaced sense of self-preservation. “But we’ll need every able body ready to fight when they send in the super soldiers if we even want a chance at making it out of this,” 

The smile that crossed Y/N’s lips didn’t come from a place of joy, nor did it mock Helmut for his blind and dying faith. It was simply there because they did not know how to do anything else. “There’s no making it out of this. Not for me, at least. For you, though… you still have a chance,” 

Denial and anger went hand in hand as Helmut sucked his teeth, grinding his molars and letting his hand ghost over his pistol hanging at his hip. 

“So you’d really rather die like a coward than take a stand against the evils in the world?” he spat, harsh and cold as the air around them. “Pathetic,” 

“Don’t do this now, Helmut, not after we were finally getting somewhere. I don’t want to die with things like that,” 

“I’m not the one who’s giving up,” he snapped.

He just needed… something. A reaction. A reason to keep fighting when the war was already lost. Anything. Why couldn’t Y/N light the same fire in him that they’d kindled for months? The fire that had driven him to spend sleepless nights poring over maps and plans and speeches and guns. If he just pushed a little harder, just hit the right button, they’d light it again, he just knew it. 

“Please,” the word fell fragile from Y/N’s lips. Not a beg, just a soft plea. 

It fell on deaf ears. 

“You know what? You can take your chair!” Helmut was shouting then, loud enough that the remaining students on the barricade could hear every word. “Take your chair and leave us to fight while you die in your sleep. If we make it through the day I’ll put the bullet between your eyes myself. Now get out of here! I don’t want to see you again,” There was a cruelty to it, an edge that he thought might just push them off the edge. Still, it wasn’t cruel without reason. Helmut thought that maybe, if he was lucky enough, Y/N would simply leave. 

They had no stakes in the results of the revolt, no serious lasting ties that would get them hunted down in the weeks to come if things came to a gruesome end. If he bid them to leave, to disappear from his sight, there was a chance, however small, that they would disappear into the shadows with a chance to live. 

Against all odds, though, Y/N smiled one of those empty smiles again and drank down the very last of their wine.

“As your baronship commands,” they whispered, before departing to gather up a chair and disappearing into the restaurant where they had met so many times before. 

Then, they were gone, and Helmut was free to sink to the ground as his heart broke and mended and broke again. 

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

As expected, the super soldiers arrived only a couple of hours past Y/N’s departure.

Their arrival was silent, only marked by the slow thud of retreating national guardsmen in the distance. They weren’t needed there anymore, and the less they saw the better. 

Helmut watched his friends fall one by one in the panic, the barricade falling to ruin as the soldiers- if they could even be considered that, soldier seemed a far too human term for the monstrous creatures before him- pulled it apart with their bare hands. From there it was just a game of who was caught first in the insanity that ensued. 

Nicholas; caught a bullet through the neck. 

Vladimir; thrown against a solid stone wall at a speed near impossible.

Lazlo; impaled on a bit of broken wood as the wood exploded. 

Andrei; shot 3 times point-blank in the chest as he held the door closed to buy Hans and Helmut a little more time with a love confession for his closest companion falling from his mouth. 

Hans…

Helmut didn’t know how Hans died. 

He had never asked. All he knew that the shots had come as he wailed Andrei’s name, and then there was a deathly silence in the golden light of the morning sun as Helmut stood alone at the back of the storeroom, taking in the 4 walls that had held the best year of his life. 

What remained now? 

A failed dream? A pile of bodies? A single survivor waiting for his death?

Helmut didn’t know. He couldn’t fathom it. 

The two soldiers sent to finish the job were nameless and nondescript as they slipped through the door, armed with long, silent rifles and hidden by masks not too dissimilar from Helmut’s own. They did not speak, not a word. Instead, they simply raised their guns and took aim at Helmut as he closed his eyes and thought of-

“Wait!”

The word rang out heavy and made the two executioners snap to the side.

“I’m with him! I’m with the revolution! Down with King Emil! Down with the monarchy!”  

There, hidden among the crates and shelves of canned goods and glass bottles, was Y/N. 

They looked objectively awful, eyes rimmed red and hair mussed up and coated with oil. Still, it was the most beautiful sight Helmut had ever seen. 

It was only right that they go together. 

Slowly, Y/N made their way across the room to take their place at Helmut’s side. “I know you said you never wanted to see me again, but I assume you’ll make an exception for the circumstances,”

“I never meant it,” he whispered back, and Y/N smiled, “You have to know, I never meant it,” 

“Even if you did, I never would have listened-”

Suddenly, one of the soldiers spoke, taking aim straight for Helmut down the barrel of their gun. 

“Quiet,” 

Y/N only paused for a moment before pressing their hand into his. “Kiss me, Helmut?”

Who was he to deny them? 

Pulling off his mask, he pressed his lips to theirs and clasped their hand like it was the last thing he would ever do. When he pulled away, they were smiling one of their old, mocking, joyous smiles. 

“Oh, fearless leader… I win,” 

The words were a whisper of air against his lips. Before he could fathom the true meaning of them the pair was peppered in a spray of gunfire as Helmut closed his eyes to the world for what should have been the final time. 

When he opened them, Y/N was struck dead at his feet. 

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

It was their final winning move, he later realized, the checkmate to a game of chess he never believed would end. 

In the end, Y/N had been as correct as they always were.

All the same, he hated them for it. 

Some nights, in the darkness of his room back at the summer estate where his father has imprisoned him until further notice, he wondered if Y/N had kissed him because they wanted to or if they had done it to get him to remove his mask long enough that the soldiers would recognize him and spare him. It wouldn’t surprise him. Y/N did have a tendency to be right about things like that. 

Ghosts haunted him often.

Not full specters, he would wish for something so merciful. Instead, he saw flashes in the periphery of his vision. Outside his window, he’d hear a child’s laugher and be so sure it was Sebastian until he looked out to find that it was simply a group of the staff’s children playing ball. Or, when the assigned guardsman brought him his dinner, he would glance down the hall and be so sure that a man at the other end was Lazlo, preparing to face a board of proctors as he delivered a thesis he would never write. It never was, though. It never would be. 

Worst of all, when he laid awake in his bed as the clock struck twelve, he would feel them beside him. 

They had never slept together in the literal sense. Whatever they had shared (love, Helmut would come to realize after many, many years with Heike, painfully hollow without the same kind of flame. He had loved them and simply never known how to show it) was purely physical and contained within that bloody, bloody storeroom that he was sure would be torn down someday soon as they glossed over the casualties and stamped out the evidence. Still, he could feel Y/N beside him in the darkness despite the fact that they had never been there. 

Their head on his chest, their body pressed flush to his side, their hot breath fanning over the fabric of his nightshirt, creating a patch of damp warmth in its wake…

It was maddening, an eternal punishment he was doomed to endure for his stupidity. Nevertheless, if he let his brain wander to a better place, a different lifetime, it was almost comforting to feel their ghost wrapped tightly to his side. 

When he woke, though, the loss of the dream was more maddening than living through it. 

Almost a month after the failed revolution, in the hot and heady days of early July when the wasps buzzed loud at the window and the skies were filled with thunderclouds most of the time, his father finally came to speak to him.  

“I trust you spent your birthday how you wished to,” Heinrich said plainly. There was no question to it, just an empty sentiment. 

Mockery wasn’t nearly as pleasant when delivered by his father and not his lover, Helmut thought distantly. 

“On the contrary, I spent my birthday watching everyone I cared about die,” he snapped back. 

Heinrich didn’t offer any sort of commiseration. He simply shrugged and continued on with what he was there to say, not that his son minded much. The less time he spent there the more time Helmut would have to himself, which was preferable to listening to his father’s droning. 

“You’re lucky to be alive. The family is on thin ice thanks to that stunt you pulled, but with time we’re all sure that you’ll become an asset if you simply learn to use that fire for something more… productive,” 

Who the ‘we’ was went unspoken. It didn’t need to be.

Helmut sighed and looked out the window at the rain falling on the garden. Nicholas would have loved the gardens at this home. He would have pressed every flower at least once in the little book he kept beside him filled with the pieces of the world that he collected as he passed through it. Where would he be kept and collected now that he was dead? 

“I’ve called in a favor and enrolled you for military service. You’ll be tested to find your strengths, sent where you’re best suited, and trained from the ground up. Once we know you can be trusted, you might even lead your own squadron and make some friends more of your caliber,” 

It took all Helmut’s strength to clench his teeth and hold back the rage he felt in his chest. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you’re married,” 

Married. 

The word struck a bolt through the rage and dissolved it, giving way to pure shock. “What the hell do you mean?” 

Crossing his arms, Heinrich took to pacing a 2-foot line back and forth in front of the door. “We’ve found a suitable match from a good standing Sokovian family, and they’re willing to look past your little misstep as long as their daughter becomes a baroness and is adequately involved in society. She’ll be here in three days time and you’ll have a week to get acquainted before the wedding,” 

“I never said I was going to get married,” Helmut growled, “You can’t make me get married,” 

His father stared down at him from above like he was a little boy again. “I can make you do whatever I want. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what happened with that freak they shot down at your side! No son of mine is ending up with someone like-”

In an instant, Helmut had rushed across the room and punched his father square in the jaw. As blood poured down the man’s face, a hiss escaped his son’s lips. 

“Never talk about Y/N like that again,”

“So it had a name!”

That earned him another punch, but Heinrich escaped Helmut’s grip quickly, cupping a hand beneath his nose to catch the redness that poured from his face. As he retreated out the door, he turned to deliver his final verdict. “You have three days to get your act together, and maybe, just maybe, if you don’t fuck this up, I’ll let you know where they dumped all your little friends to rot,” And with that, he shut the door behind him and left Helmut to pick up the pieces of his soul.

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

The tale Zemo wove was a sad one (sans most of the details about Y/N. That was a story whose finer details he would take to his grave) and as he came to a close, the purple fabric between his fingers was a tether to reality. The coating was a bit old, thinner in places than it should have been, but it had remained steady and strong for over 20 years and he didn’t know the first place to start repairing it. 

Y/N would have known, they’d been the one to do it in the first place after all, but they were long gone, not even a ghost anymore. Just a name and a face forgotten to time as all the other impoverished students were, buried in an unmarked grave in a place he never learned. It was all that remained of them. The only thing that proved they were ever there at all. 

“You know the rest of the story,” he added firmly. “I married Heike, climbed the ranks of the military, had my son… and they were simply lost, an unwritten page in the history of a country that no longer exists,” 

Suddenly, though, a deep voice cut in through the heavy air between them. 

“Ciczheni,”

“Pardon?” Zemo asked softly, pouring himself a final tumbler of whiskey and stuffing the mask back in his pocket. 

“We buried them in Ciczheni,” 

He nearly dropped the bottle in his hand. 

Bucky was quick to continue, voice low and eyes clouded with memory in a way that only the two of them would ever truly understand. “It’s a tiny town along the border to the Czech Republic. There’s a big open field there, or at least there was, marked with a flat grave marking it as a burial site. I don’t remember the name on it, some random pseudonym, but they’re all there, all 57 dead and buried in the ground under that rock,” 

Helmut gave a stiff nod. “I see,” Then, in one long gulp, he downed the whole two fingers of whiskey straight and relished in the way it burned down his throat. When the glass was empty and set down safely on the counter again he was quick to school his expression as he turned away. “I’m afraid all that excitement has exhausted me for the day. Goodnight, gentlemen,”

He was gone down the hallway into his bedroom before the pair had a chance to say another word. 

Ciczheni. 

As he undressed, he smiled softly, letting a few errant tears drip down his cheeks. 

They had been born and raised in that tiny farming town. Sometimes, when he had let himself listen in on their conversations with some of the other members of their small, tight group, they would talk about how much they wanted to return someday, once they’d made enough money to live on for a while if they supported themself by growing a small garden and maybe keeping some chickens. The thought, even then, had always made him smile. Just Y/N and a cottage and a chicken or two. 

Sometimes, if he was especially indulgent, he would imagine himself there with them. Sharing a home. 

Making a family. 

His biological family, the one he had created with marriage and his own flesh and blood, was something different entirely. He had loved them. God, how he’d loved them. Still, it was never the same. He was never at peace. He was never home. There would always be a bitterness there, as bitter as the dark summer wine he’d drunk the night he’d turned 20, a resentment that came with the obligation of creating a place in his heart for them when there never should have been. 

For Y/N, though... 

He sighed, wrapping himself in his robe and slipping on a pair of fleece pajama pants before crawling between the sheets and laying flat on his back, eyes to the ceiling. 

Things wouldn’t have been happy all the time. Hell, they probably wouldn’t have been happy even most of the time. Still, they would have been where they belonged, seated firmly at his side for the rest of their long, wonderful lives. 

Ciczheni, he repeated in his mind, then the memorial for Novi Grad. It was a minor detour, adding barely 2 hours more to the whole trip when he had plenty more to spare. 

Ciczheni, then Novi Grad, and then, finally, peace. 

Beside him, he could feel the phantom limbs wrap around his body, resting their weight firmly on his chest where the guilt and shame and terror built by the day, and for the first time in almost a decade they were not Heike’s. Perhaps, if all went according to plan, they wouldn’t be phantom much longer. 

Or, if not, he would wait. He would wait a billion years to disintegrate into stardust and spread across the cosmos in search of them. 

Either way, when they were together again, he’d know. 

They both would. 

--------

a/n: I’m not crying, you’re crying. 

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​ , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @avgravy​ , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​ , @alanathedeer​ , @your-pixels-are-showing​ , @shit-post-things​ , @bbarton​ , @sux-ubus​ , @halefirewarrior​ , @janelongxox​ , @rax-writes​ , @wondermia69​ , @booklover2929​ , @lol-im-done​ , @rorodendra​ , @spookycereal-s​ , @viviace​ , @wxrmh0le​ , @whatawildone​ , @mush-room-princess​ , @aliyahsfantasticlife​ ,  @gredvb​ , @chipster-21​ , @whatawildone​ , @cloud-of-roses​ , @bry-97​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ , @be-cautious-around-bri​ , @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ , @frothonthedaydreams​

[buckysgoldenheart]

The B****, The Favorite, His Sister & Her Lover

Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Henry is in love with you, but you have been avoiding him for a month and you are forced to face the repercussions of your actions when your brother brings him to family dinner. (Fluffy, sorta smutty)

Words: 4979 (Sorry ☹, but I hope you like it if you decide it’s not too long).

All you wanted, well, not wanted, but all you planned for was a simple, hopefully non-stressful dinner where your mother made her lasagna and your brother eased her not-so-innocent attacks on you with his charming personality. It was a Friday. Friday’s were supposed to be relaxing, and if you could ignore the ‘subtle’ digs at your lack of relationship you might even consider it a win.

You sat at the counter, sipping at wine as your small mother slid her lasagna into the oven with two large, rose-printed oven mitts. What should have been a simple task ended up as your mother spending an entire minute adjusting and readjusting the pan until it was dead center on the rack.

“You’re letting all the heat out, mom.”

Her nearly entirely gray-haired head was practically in the oven when she said, “It has to be perfect or it won’t bake evenly, Y/N. If you ever cooked, you would know that. Men like when a woman can cook, you know.”

You rolled your eyes and took another sip of the dark reddish-purple liquid when the doorbell rang. Fucking finally, you thought, Brother dearest to the rescue. You actually loved Johnny almost more than anyone. He was your best friend, and without a doubt, you could show up at his apartment asking for help hiding a body and he would drop everything to google the best place to do it.

Probably a little too eagerly, you set your glass down, jogged to the small foyer, and whipped open the door. “Damn it, Johnny, you’re late. Mom is—”

Your body froze. Johnny was smiling wide, holding up a bottle of gin in his hand and waving it at you like a prize, standing next to the one man you had been trying to avoid for the better half of a month. You closed your parted lips and slid your tongue over them to wet the sudden dryness.

“Where’s mom?” Johnny asked.

You nodded your head in the direction of the kitchen. “Where else?”

You brother slipped by you, disappearing around the corner as he called for your mother. A sharp squeal echoed through the halls a moment later, your mother’s high-pitched tone crying ‘my baby boy,’ over and over.

Looking at the man before you: the blue eyes, the dark brown hair, the plump lips with an uneasy smile, you tried to look welcoming. You were sure you failed miserably, but who could blame you. Avoiding him had been going so well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You swallowed. “Hi…Henry.” Awkwardly, you opened the door a little wider and stepped to the side. He cleared his throat and brushed passed you, the toned chest you had tried to forget rubbing up against your breasts. “Just, um…” You pointed in the direction of the kitchen before you realized it would just be better for him to follow you. “Follow me.”

When you saw Johnny playfully twirling your mother around to music he had turned on at some point, you internally groaned. He really was the perfect son. Perfect enough to make up for your lack of achievements. Johnny paused, large grin still in place when he saw you and Henry.

“Mom,” He said, gesturing a hand your way, “This is Henry, a good friend. We work together.”

Her eyes brightened even more at the sight of him. Tall, broad, sexy; the perfect potential suitor for her pathetic daughter. You just prayed she could keep her mouth shut for a single night.

“Henry,” She said, taking his hand in hers. “So lovely to meet you. Please, take a seat. What would you like to drink? I can get you anything.”

Henry looked anxious at the sudden onslaught of attention. You knew the feeling, though it was often directed your way in a more negative manner. Before Henry could respond, your brother set a glass of bourbon in front of him to which he responded with a nod, a smile, and a ‘thank you.’

The scene in front of you was more and more beginning to feel like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Henry was sitting at the kitchen counter of your childhood home with a drink in his hand, chatting with your mother and brother like it wasn’t weird. He looked misplaced. He was too big for the room. His shoulders were massive, and he was so, so tall, and there was something about it that had you panicking.

“Johnny!” Your brother looked your way. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked to your old bedroom. You shut the door with an annoyed huff once your bother’s body was barely on your side of it. He observed the room as if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times before then winced when he met your eyes, having run out of places to look. “Oh, don’t give me that.”

You crossed your arms. “What the fuck is he doing here!”

“He said he was going to be alone for the weekend and when I told him I was going home for the night, I offered for him to come.”

Raising an eyebrow, you scoffed. “And why would he accept that thrilling proposal?”

Johnny chucked and rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny thing—”

“Oh, is it?”

“I may have told him you were coming, too…”

“Is that so?” You said a little louder.

Your brother shrugged and sighed. “Look, Y/N, he loves you…a lot. I barely mentioned your name before he started to pack his overnight bag.” He chuckled at the memory. “Personally, I don’t get it. I never really felt like you outgrew that mousy, awkward phase, but I guess he sees passed that.”

Groaning, you grabbed a pillow off your bed and threw it at his head. “Johnny!”

He tossed the pillow back at you and you swatted it away. “He’s a good guy, Y/N. You could do worse. He could probably do better, but he did spend the entire drive here unashamedly asking about you, so he must think otherwise.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m the best and you love me.” Johnny walked to you and threw and arm over your shoulders. “Now, come on. We’ve left him alone with our mother. No one deserves that.”

----------

“Oh, I did see that…” Your mother snapped her fingers. “Oh, what was it? Uncle something, the uncle man, no that’s not it, uncle—”

“The Man from U.N.C.L.E,” Henry finished for her.

“Yes!” She smiled triumphantly as if she had come to answer on her own. “I quite enjoyed that one.”

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

“My son says you’re Superman as well. Is that so?”

“Mom,” Your brother interrupted as he dragged you back in the room. “Leave Henry alone, alright? He gets questioned all the time. He doesn’t need it from us.”

Your mother swatted a hand. “Oh, nonsense. How am I supposed to get to know Henry here if I don’t ask questions?”

“Are you interviewing him for something?”

As she donned the oven mitts again, bent down, and pulled dinner out of the oven, your mother winked. “Maybe…”

You let out a quiet whimper, grabbed your glass, and downed the rest of your wine in half a second. Johnny nodded your way and handed you the bottle. You nodded back in appreciation and refilled your glass a little more than socially acceptable.  

“Ok, now, everyone at the table,” You mother announced.

----------

The lasagna was annoyingly delicious, but the conversation ruined it. You were definitely buzzed by now, trying to scarf down the last of your food. Maybe you could feign illness and dip out before dessert. The two hour drive back to your apartment at nine p.m., tipsy or not, sounded exponentially better than staying the night like you usually did. If only it weren’t illegal and didn’t mean potentially harming yourself or someone else. Johnny watched you sympathetically, so very clearly understanding your discomfort, until your mother drew his attention at the mention of his name.

“John has a girlfriend,” She said to Henry, then looked at her son. “Where is Margaret, Johnny?”

“Business trip,” He replied. When she raised her eyebrows, undoubtedly impressed that her son found a woman important enough to be needed around the world, Johnny elaborated. “Paris this month. She is collaborating with some famous designer out there.”

“She is so smart and beautiful, very driven. It’s extremely impressive. You must be so proud of her.”

Johnny smiled at the thought of his girlfriend. He did love her in a way he’d never loved any other and you knew how hard it was for him when she was gone, so you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm. “I am proud of her. I am, um…I’m actually going to ask her to marry me when she gets back.”

Your mother squealed and practically jumped out of her seat. “Oh, my goodness!” Then, she actually stood and trotted over to her son, wrapped her arms around him and kissed the side of his head. Henry met your eyes as you averted them from the spectacle that was your mother, seeming to be examining every feature of your face with an undetermined expression. You wanted to look away but found yourself unable. His stare reminded you too much of the last time you saw him. The way he had studied you then, it made you melt. It was as if he was trying to figure you out, like he thought you were some kind of otherworldly being with a uniqueness he couldn’t quite find the words to describe.

You watched as his lips slowly parted and your thoughts turned dark. You mother would be ashamed, but she quickly stopped them as she fawned more over your brother. “I’ll have grandchildren in no time!” She placed on last peck on your bother’s cheek before taking her seat again, folding her napkin back over her lap. “Henry, have you met Margaret?”

Henry’s eyes finally left your face. “I have actually.”

“Oh, isn’t she absolutely lovely? Just perfect for my Johnny. I wish Y/N would find someone.”

“Mom,” You and Johnny said at the same time. Here we go. But your mother ignored your protests.

“Someone like you, Henry,” She continued and rested her hand on his forearm. “You would be perfect. You are so charming and sweet and handsome; you’d be good for her. Y/N has a horrible history with men, absolute buffoons. They never treat her right. They never love her.”

“Mom!” Johnny shouted, thankfully trying to protect you, because with each word that passed your mother’s lips, you lost the will to protect yourself.

“But a man like you—”

The sound of your chair skidding across the hardwood drowned out any other noise. You stood, threw your napkin down and, without a word or glance at anyone at the table, left for your room.

Johnny blew out a breath and shook his head. “Mom…”

Her eyebrows rose and she shrugged, her hands out in question like a small child when asked where the last of the cookies went. “What?”

“You need to lay off. Honestly. Give her a break.”

That surprised look on her face quickly shifted. “Oh, please, John. She knows I mean well. When I find her a man, she will thank me.”

“Will she?” Your brother’s lips thinned out. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Henry dabbed his mouth with his napkin and stood. “No. I’ll go,” He said, but paused when your mother put her small hand on his arm again.

“Oh, Henry, dear, you don’t have to deal with her.”

“No, mom,” Johnny interjected. “Let Henry go. I’ll stay and help you with the dishes. I think dinner is over.”

----------

The knock at your door had you groaning. You didn’t want to see anyone, not even Johnny. There was nothing he could say to make it better, to make the entire night disappear as if it never happened. All you wanted to do was lay back in your bed and stare at the little glow stars you had stuck on your ceiling when you were five. If you turned off your bedside lamp, they would shine that bright alien-green color that once had you wishing you could live with some wild, extra-terrestrial being instead of your own mother. But then the door pounded again.

“Not now, Johnny.”

You thought your simple, aggravated tone was enough to persuade anyone to leave you alone, until a moment later when the door eased open. “Not Johnny,” Henry said, and your heart skipped a beat. “Can we talk?”

Keeping your eyes on the little ceiling stars, you said, “I swear to god, if this is about my mom—”

“It’s not.”

“If it’s about the other thing, then the answer is still no.”

Henry quietly groaned, shut the door, and stepped to the side of the bed. The room was suddenly warmer as you met his eyes, and he nudged your legs to the side so he could sit. “Why not?”

You took a deep breath and scooted your body up until your back was against the wall. He still looked at you; determined, you realized. He wanted what he wanted, and he clearly had no plans to leave without answers. “That was an accid—”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes,” You said firmly. “It was.”

He rose a perfect eyebrow. “How so? Neither of us were drunk, we both wanted it. You told me—”

“I know what I told you.”

Henry nodded and swallowed, his eyes darting to the floor for a second before back to you. “Were you lying to me then?”

‘No,’ You wanted to say, but somehow, your lips could not form the word. Though even if they could, you weren’t sure any sound would come out.

“Tell me, how does it happen that two people can admit their feelings for one another, sleep together, and then one of those people decides to leave in the middle of the night and start avoiding the other.”

“Didn’t I just say—”

“Yea, well, I want to talk about it,” he interrupted you, and you didn’t miss the irritation starting to seep into that delectably deep voice of his.

The look on his face had you wishing you could rip out your own stomach to avoid the nausea it induced. At least I feel guilty, you thought. You could be one of those people who lies to get in someone pants and then avoids them. You didn’t lie, so there would always be that.

“Why did you leave?” He asked.

You didn’t even know. Was there actually a single reason, or where there so many little reasons that you couldn’t pinpoint one in particular. Either way, you couldn’t explain. You knew what you felt for him. You knew it scared you, and that you didn’t want to hurt him. But how do you make a stupid choice like unwrapping his arms from your body in the middle of the night while he sleeps so you could leave, and then ever be able to look him in the eye again. You weren’t strong enough for that, not when it came to him. He made you feel amazing and beautiful and loved, and you threw it back in his face.

“Y/N—”

“Can we please not do this,” You whispered.

“No, we are doing this,” Henry said, standing sharply. “We are definitely doing this.”

You stood as well, willing yourself to be as tall as him. At least then it would be fair, but he was inches above you, and you didn’t possess the magical abilities to make yourself grow after the age of 15, so… “Henry—”

He stared you down, stepping to you and forcing you back until your spine met the wall. “Just answer the damn question, Y/N. Is what you said to me a lie?”

“I…I’m…I don’t—” You stammered and, though tried to hold your ground, couldn’t stop yourself from looking away and to the tacky, blue carpet flooring. But Henry wasn’t having it. He crooked a finger under your chin and lifted until you had no choice other than to gaze into the ocean blue of his eyes and at the small brown island in the left one.

“Do you love me or not?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish. You wanted to say something, you had to, he wouldn’t wait forever, but—

“Yes or no, Y/N.”

…He wouldn’t wait forever…

“Yes or--”

“Yes.”

In the same breath, he cupped your cheeks and put his lips on yours. Tasting him again sent shocks through every nerve of your body. It felt like your first sip of water after surviving days without; like the feeling of sunshine on your skin after being trapped so long in the darkness you lost track of time. It felt as if his kiss held inside it everything you needed to finally be free. No more denial, no more loneliness or fear, no more avoiding him because he clearly wasn’t going to let that happen for one more minute.

When you finally gave in and parted your lips for him, Henry groaned. His tongue on yours created a fire that burst inside of you and soothed the chills his touch created, and before you had time to process another thought, you were pushing him back to your bed and straddling his lap. Warm hands traveled up and down your back until the moan you made at the feeling of his hard on pressing to your core had him wrapping his arms tight around your waist. So tight, you were not sure how you could still breathe.

You sneaked your hand between your bodies and worked to unbuckle the belt around his hips, but he pulled back just as you yanked it from the loops and tossed it to the side. You searched his eyes for any reason he may have stopped you, but all you saw was love. He reached up and brushed a stray hair behind your ear, then caressed your cheek and stroked along your cheekbone with his thumb.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, eyebrows still drawn together in confusion.

Henry smiled to slightest. “I love you.”

“…Still?” You looked away from him in embarrassment. “Even after avoiding you for a month?”

“Yes, still,” He chuckled. “Even after that.”

You let out a little whimper and touched your forehead to his. “I don’t know how you could.”

“Because it’s you, baby.” He put a hand on the back of your neck and pecked your lips once, twice. “I’ve been in love with you for so long.”

You lifted your head from his and he smiled, glancing at your lips before meeting your eyes. “How long?”

“Since your brother brought you to the Fallout wrap party.”

“Henry…”

“I know. I should’ve told you a long time ago, way before last month.” With one hand, he threaded his fingers through your hair. The other started to rub up and down your thigh.

He nudged his nose against yours and before he could kiss you again, you whispered, “I love you.”

Your words made him contentedly hum from deep in his chest, then he placed his lips on yours again, your bottom one between his two. He sucked on it and softly nibbled, and you slid your hands up his chest until you could wrap your arms around his neck. Grinding your hips down forced a groan from Henry as he went for the button of his jeans.

Your lips separated for a moment so you could hike up your skirt, and before he could, you slipped your fingers inside his pants and pulled out his cock, grasping it in your warm hand. His lips parted at your touch, his eyes staring hard into yours as you lifted up, tugged your panties to the side, and started to ease yourself onto him. His cock parted your folds and stretched you so deliciously wide that the familiar string from his size had you gasping.

“Oh, God,” Henry sucked in a breath, sheathed fully inside you. “So good, sweetheart.”

You nodded, lost for words. Nothing could describe the feeling of him inside you. He filled you the way no man ever could, in more ways than one. Every hollow part of you he sated; your body, your heart, your mind, all brought to peace just by being with him. How you let your fear get in the way of this for an entire month, you couldn’t understand. But as he held you so close nothing could get between your bodies, you pushed your thoughts to the back of your mind and started to rock your hips back and forth on his lap.

----------

“That is a lot of stars,” Henry said as you laid back in the bed and stared up at your ceiling, his arms still wrapped around you. He hadn’t let you go, even for a second. From the moment you said ‘yes’ to his question, his hands remained on your body, his skin always touching yours.

“I like space.”

“I know,” He chuckled, then pulled you on top of him. You overlapped your hands on his chest and rested your chin on them.

“Oh yea?”

“Mhm. I know an awful lot about you. I’ve been paying attention for a while.”

“I know things about you, too.”

“Oh yea?” He asked, mimicking you with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

“I know that you’re obsessed with video games, you like to cook and you’re actually good at it, you want a family, and you love Kal more than anyone.”

“Almost more than anyone.” He smiled at you and brushed a knuckle down your cheek. “Don’t tell him though.”

You giggled but continued. “I know that you are supportive and determined and you always go after what you want--”

“Like I did with you.”

“—And there is no one in the world like you. You make me feel safe…and loved.”

He leaned closer and you rose to meet his lips. “You’re all I want.”

The corners of your mouth crooked up, but a moment later they fell and you sat up in fear. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

“We’ve been in here,” You paused to check the small alarm clock on your bedside table, “For an hour.” Standing quickly, you looked around, wildly searching for your underwear that Henry had yanked down your legs at some point and tossed to God knows where.

He hopped up and threw his shirt over his head. When you handed him his belt, he nodded and thanked you with a smile before he began to slip it through the loops.

You sighed in relief when you found the dark blue lacy panties and pulled them up your legs. “My mother is gonna lose it. I bet the only reason she hasn’t barged in here is because of Johnny.” You ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, looking for garments and hurriedly clothing yourself. When you passed in front of Henry, he grabbed your arm.

“Babe,” He said, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

----------

You stepped down the stairs and casually rounded the corner into the living room as if you hadn’t just had sex twice, to see Johnny sitting in one of two brown leather armchairs, sipping his gin and tonic. Your brother smirked when he saw your somewhat disheveled appearance, with Henry behind you, one of his large hands on your hip.

“Hey, sis.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start. Where’s mom?”

He nodded his head to the couch you hadn’t bothered to glace at yet, where your mother’s body draped along it like a rag doll, a glint of drool at the corner of her mouth. “What the fuck?”

“Mom still cannot hold her booze.” He stood and watched your mother as she let out a loud snore. “Don’t worry, she didn’t hear you. She was too busy ranting about your lack of love life.” You swallowed and Johnny walked up to you. Raising one eyebrow, he looked between you and Henry, then took a gulp of the clear liquid in his glass. “The irony, huh?”

Before you could say a word, your brother slipped by you and patted Henry a few times on the shoulder. “Oh, and you’re free to go home,” Johnny called from the kitchen. “I have a feeling you’d both rather spend your night…well, not here, and I can look after our dear mother. You can thank me tomorrow.” He chuckled.

Henry looked down at you and smiled softly. “We can stay if you want.”

“Are you kidding?” You snickered. “Just give me a minute, then we can go.”

He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll go wait by the car. Tell Johnny I’ll see him Monday, yea?”

You nodded and as Henry left out the front door, you made your way down the tiled hallway that led to the kitchen. You found your brother sitting at the counter and typing on his phone with a smile.

“Margaret?” You asked.

Johnny placed his phone back on the counter and took a swig of gin straight from the bottle. “Yea.”

“How is she?”

“Good. She’s doing really well out there.” He smiled, though halfheartedly, and went for the fridge to pull out your mother’s devil’s food cake. Grabbing a fork, he walked back to the counter, put the cake in the center and dug right into the side of it. You stared as he devoured bite after bite. If it were you, you would have surely faced the wrath of the small, plump woman passed out in the next room, but Johnny ate without a care in the world. “I fucking miss her.”

You picked at a fingernail as you asked, “Is it awful…to have someone you love hours away from you for weeks at a time?” You hated to see your brother miss his girlfriend so much his insides hurt, and you had no desire to be in the same situation.

“Not as awful as it probably sounds. It would be easier with you and Henry, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He gave you an amused look that only barely masked his own pain.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, he and I have to go wherever the production companies take The Witcher, but you can travel freely with your job and, believe me, he’ll take you everywhere he’s filming as long as you say yes. He also might try to superglue you to his side though, so watch out for that.”

You scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to not smile as much as your brother’s words were begging you to, then forced it down with a swallow. “Johnny…” He hummed, and when you didn’t continue, he turned his head to look at you. “Thank you. I don’t know that I would’ve talked to him again if you hadn’t brought him here. I would’ve tried to forget about it, and him.”

Johnny smirked as he poked at the cake with his fork. “Nah, Henry wouldn’t have let that happen. He’s, like, an idiot for you, but a very…determined idiot.”

“Really?”

“Oh, baby sister, you have no idea.” He rubbed up and down the side of your arm the way he used to as kids in high school when he thought you were being a little too naïve for your own good. “But I’ll tell you all about the nauseatingly, sappy whining he did over you another time.”

That was a story you were sure Henry would try to keep as far away from you as possible and the thought made you smile. The close friends he probably told, or ‘whined’ to, as your brother said, would undoubtedly have a ball trying to recount every detail just to see how red Henry’s cheeks could get.

You wrapped your arms around Johnny from the side, your head just meeting his shoulder, and squeezed. He wiggled his arm out of your tight hold to tuck you into his side then kissed your forehead.

“I love you,” You said.

“I know.”

-----------

Seeing Henry leaning against your car, patiently waiting for you, made something in your chest lighten. He didn’t seem bored or annoyed or itching to rush you along, but just content to stay in that one spot until you were ready to go. You’d never had that before: a man who didn’t force you to follow every minute of his schedule, who didn’t make you feel like you could never be an inconvenience without consequences, who didn’t hold you down by the boulder on your chest, suffocating you until you complied. It made you appreciate what it meant to be able to inhale and exhale for more than just the need to keep your body from dying. It gave you the chance to see that there are two types of breathing: There’s the breathing that keeps you alive, and there’s the breathing that keeps you sane. Henry allowed you to have both, and it took the smallest of gestures to give you that relief.

He smiled bright when he saw you striding over the front yard grass to him and took your hands in his once you were within reach. “You ready?”

You nodded and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent you memorized a year ago. “Yours or mine?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“If we go to yours, we can be having sex sooner. Mine’s an extra fifteen away,” You said and looked up at him.

“Mine it is.” He winked and then kissed you.

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

tags: Perm (let me know if you want on or off the list. Idk who prefers to be on what list anymore now that I have two.) @dugan365​ @moonlightimagination​ @pietrotheavenger​ @marvel-fanfiction​ @hawkeyeharrington​ @dani-si​ @wintersoldier98​ @then-there-was-me-emily​ @prxttybirdz​ @xceafh​ @jazzwoman897​ @fandoms-who @meganwinchester1999​ @ufffg​ @debra77​ @rebelliouscat​ @anise-d-castle6​ @projectxhappiness​ @buckybarnesappreciationsociety​ @lowkeysebby​ @quotemeow @notmyfault404​ @jjamesbbarness​ @guera31​ @sophiatomlinson23​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @hiddles-rose​ @vibhati123 @mywinterwolf​ @picapicapicassobaby​ @lokilvrr​ @sunshine-seven​ @agniavateira​

[lucycola]

Hey could you do a Spock X reader where she knows nothing about Vulcans and like keeps accidentally doing taboo things e.g touching hands or touching his ears

I thoroughly enjoyed writing this! I accidentally made it gender neutral, because I forgot what pronouns, you used. I’m sorry! I hope you like it.

WARNINGS: Fluff, affection, ignorance of affection in Vulcan culture idk. Maybe Spock is slightly OOC but who cares. I took a little liberty of giving the reader a pinch of background.

To say you were oblivious was an understatement. You weren’t a complete idiot, or anything, just innocently scatterbrained. Perhaps that was the explanation why you didn’t flinch when every you were chastised for a mistake or given a strict order by your commanding officer. As a blue shirt, you fell under the command of the Enterprise’s first officer, and his reputation as a stony, unfeeling, authoritarian preceded him. You were never bothered by this. He was most terrifying, others noted, when Captain Kirk left him in charge when unable to take the chair. You were warned about him-to never cross him and always do exactly as he said. Spock was a hard-ass. He was handsome and perhaps at first you wondered, but it had been made clear to by others he wasn’t interested in anyone.

You had met more terrifying people. You had nine brothers and a strict, often unfair and bully of a father. Commander Spock was a piece of cake. It was in your nature to be gentle, welcoming, and comforting despite the constitution of your upbringing. It was your personality. You didn’t like to let people bring you down.

You were elated alone to be living your dream, anyway. You weren’t going to let the attitude of anyone around you affect your nature or happiness.

You obviously didn’t know anything about Vulcans either.

The first touch was accidental. It always is.

You never took the Vulcan to be clumsy, but on one occasion while discussing your current assignment in passing he dropped his holotape. You both reached  for it, and in a cliché manner brushed hands. While your boss pulled away, you did not and picked up the tape.

“Here ya go!” You cheerily patted the tape in his hand for good measure, “I’ll have that report in the morning like you’ve requested, sir.”

Bypassers gawked as you cheerily skipped away. Your commanding officer only quirked a brow and went on his way.

The next time was less on purpose and more out of your kindness as your commander internally lamented about his captain’s safety during an emergency situation. He had donned the chair and even while appearing composed and direct you had an eye for spotting worry in well kept men. In an brief moment you pressed your hand to his wrist and said softly, “He will be okay. You’ll make sure of it.”

He tensed under your touch and you removed your hand a smiled.

“Report to your station, Ensign,” he said in his usual tone, no hint of distaste or approval in his voice.

“Yes sir.”

The third time was even worse. Somehow you had been suckered to prompting Spock by Doctor McCoy into reporting to an impromptu physical. Confidentiality be damned, the Vulcan’s stress levels were unusually high and it was affecting his demeanor. You accidentally overheard the nurse and the doctor whispering something perhaps about pon farr happening again, but no it hadn’t been seven years yet. Whatever that was.

“I don’t think he’ll listen to me, but if you say it’s important, I’ll try.”

“You’re his favorite, so you’re my best bet.”

“Mister Spock doesn’t have favorites,” you laughed, “But I’ll do it anyway. Someone has to draw the shortest straw. I never mind it being me.”

“Thankyou, Ensign. And good luck.”

You skipped along to the your commander’s quarters. You had never been inside and only rarely had delivered your reports to him in person when requested. He couldn’t always come to you and that was understandable.

At the chime the door slid open and though it was subtle, your boss clearly wasn’t expecting you.

“Hello, Mister Spock,” you greeted, “Doctor McCoy-”

“I am aware of the doctor’s request. As it is not mandatory  I do not find it necessary to attend.”

It wasn’t like him to interrupt you. He was tense and though he stood perfectly erect like a statue there was a little shake in his right hand. Without thinking, you grasped it to still the quiver.

“Are you alright?”

Many would expect his to snatch it away, but he didn’t and stood there. If he was caught off guard, it wasn’t apparent. His expression was unmoving and his eye contact never wavered.

“I am fine, Ensign. Report back to your duties.”

“Doctor McCoy said it was important.”

“I am not here to entertain the doctor’s every illogical human whim.” He pulled his hand away, “There is no empirical evidence to suggest I am ill.”

“You’re shivering.” You put your hands on your hip and gave him the most mothering look you could muster.

“Multiple factors such as the natural low temperature of deep space can illicit such a reaction,” he retorted.

“It’s broiling in your cabin, Mister Spock. Only people with fevers do things like that.”

“Humans, Ensign. Humans,” he corrected, “I deduce you are not aware of Vulcan biology or customs.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” you requested softly, “How am I supposed to work efficiently under an ill commanding officer?”

The way you spoke nearly convinced him to do your bidding, but still he remained stubborn.

“I do not comprehend how that would deter your work efficiency.”

You grabbed his hand again, “I am going to worry myself to death if you really are ill and you’re just trying to act like you’re alright. That will keep me from working like I’m supposed to. Efficient crew needs an efficient captain.” You winked at him.

“But Captain Kirk-”

“It’s a metaphor, Mister Spock. Now please come so the doctor can stop paging me and I can work on my report concerning the Althenian plant’s healing properties and various uses from its sap.”

“I yield,” he said after a small beat and without releasing your hand, followed you to the medbay. More people inwardly gawked watching to drag him down the hall. His face was tense, albeit slightly amused.

After reaching your destination you waved him and the doctor off sweetly and made your way back to the lab. You heart wrapped around the thought of him being ill and you hid that worry ill. A little heat bloomed in your chest at his previous touch. You brushed it away. No, you told yourself.

The doctor was only a little surprised. His suspicions were confirmed.

“I had my doubts at first, Spock, but now I see it’s true.”

“Despite Vulcan’s telepathic abilities, I cannot automatically read your mind. Elaborate, Doctor.”

The doctor chucked, “That ensign is your favorite.”

“I do not understand.”

“Who else could have convinced you to come here to let me scan you? Probably not even Jim-”

“I am inclined to follow the captain’s every order.”

“You don’t let anyone touch you like that. Especially not for a long time. If I’m not mistaken you two were practically kiss-”

“That will be enough elaboration, doctor. Please proceed with your medical assessment, as I have much work to attend to.”

The doctor chuckled again. “It’s too bad I can’t tell with that one. They act like that towards everyone.”

“Everyone,” Spock repeated flatly although it was intended to be a question.

“Sweetest soul I’ve ever met. Lights up a room as soon as they enter it.”

“Indeed,” Spock nodded, familiar with the colloquialism.

The doctor’s eyebrows raised and he grinned, “I knew it.”

You of course were oblivious to all of this as you continued through your work, happy as a clam.

After some deliberation one of your coworkers decided to explain the delicacies of Vulcan culture after viewing a friendly hand grasp as a greeting between you and your commanding officer. You were elated to see his shivering had stopped and once again he tensed under the touch, but nodded his head at your greeting. You had blushed while doing so. It was sweet, but your coworker had to break it to you as they had before when warning you last time about him not being interested in anyone.

“Vulcans don’t like to be touched, you know,” they said to you, taking you aside.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re very sensitive to skin to skin contact. They guard themselves mostly, but hand touching is extremely taboo the way kissing in public or other sexual acts are.”

“You mean...” you blushed, “I’ve been--! I hope he’s not offended.”

“Normally he’s not afraid to explain things or clear up-“ you coworker coughed,”-unwanted affection. I’ve seen plenty girls get a talking down to.”

“What are you saying?”

“Perhaps he’s forcing himself to be polite.”

“Oh, I’ve got to apologize right away!”

You felt so stupid! How could you be so offensive to him or his culture? You should have read up on his customs before truly interacting with him. It would seem like a smart thing to do-but you were so lost to the world it was embarrassing.

You paused in front of his door for the first time in your life, afraid to speak to him.

The door open quickly and you stepped back, surprised. He had looked like he had been going to leave and you sheepishly smiled, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, sir. I need to speak to you.”

“Come inside.”

You blushed at the request, wringing your hands as you entered.

You turned to him and blurted, “I had no idea what I was doing, sir, I swear. Had I known that touching you was wrong I would stop. I’m so used to being touchy-feely on Earth I forgot that not everyone-”

“Ensign,” he said firmly.

“Yes?” you squeaked.

“Had those interactions provoked me I would have made it known. I should be the one offering an apology. I should have explained what such interactions mean on Vulcan before anyone else claimed the opportunity. I assume someone took the liberty of doing so.”

“Yessir. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.”

“Why not?’

“Because your actions did not provoke me, but precisely did the opposite.”

“What-what do you mean?” Your face was fully red and you obscured it with your hands. He let out a sound that was the closest Vulcan thing as a sigh and stepped closed to you.

He grasped your hands and lowered them from your face. His eyes were soft and the most vulnerable as you had every seen them.

He pressed his right hand that was shivering terribly to the side of your face. It stilled instantly.

“I am aware of your affection for me and I return the sentiment.”

You couldn’t find your voice and after a long moment of studying your features he leaned down to give you a kiss, warm and firm.

You gasped into his lips and pressed back.

He released you and you looked at him starry eyed.

“So it was true, what the doctor said, you said in a hushed tone.

Spock’s arms were around you gently, “Elaborate.”

“I am your favorite.”

“Affirmative.”

FIN

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

The Rest is History → Jeon Jungkook

↳  Pairing: Jungkook/Reader 

↳  Word count: 1,679

↳ Notice: Italic sentences are spoken in English.

⁙  Summary: Jungkook comes up with a plan to get you back after your best friend comes to Korea for a vacation, stealing you away in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook stirred awake as bedsheets rustled and his arm suddenly was no longer draped over your side. He groaned, turning over and huddling into himself, wedging his hands between his knees. It wasn't until he heard the soft click of his bedroom door that he fully woke up, curiosity outweighing his fatigue. 

His eyes fluttered open and a yawn escaped his mouth. "(Y/N)?" His voice was met with no answer, and through the darkness, he felt that your side of the bed was empty. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Maybe you had just gone to the bathroom, but when he checked the time, he wasn't so sure. 3 AM. 

Jungkook had realized more than once that you had gotten up at this exact time in the middle of the night; every single day for the past month. He had let it slide, never suspecting much because he trusted you. Today, however, he was determined to find out why this was always happening. He peeled the blanket from his body and stood up from bed, quietly making his way out of the bedroom. 

Across from the bedroom door was the door to the computer room, where you and Jungkook had desktop elaborate setups and nerdy decorations sprawled about. You had a keyboard and Jungkook had his own mixing station as well, the room a safe place to think and compose. Jungkook smiled when he saw light coming from the bottom of the door, immediately knowing you had gone in there. 

He approached the door and furrowed his eyebrows when he heard you giggle, a little lost on who would be discord calling you this late at night. Ever so gently, he turned the doorknob and pressed the door open, hoping that you wouldn't be startled. He almost didn't notice that he was holding his breath, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy and worry in his chest. 

All of his tension was released into a sigh when he saw you, curled up in a star wars blanket and sitting cross-legged in your gaming chair, laughing quietly at a video feed of your best friend, who was cloaked in daylight. He smiled, leaning against the door frame and watching the two of you talk. He worried for nothing, but he still got to see how adorable the two of you were while you were interacting. He couldn’t catch all of the English you were speaking to the monitor, but he still found it all so endearing.

He had seen Rhiannon a few times but had never met her in person. You talked about her all the time, how she was sweet, funny, smart, and always there for you even when you had decided to move to Korea on a whim. You had told Jungkook once that Rhiannon was actually the one to convince you to follow your dream, and as a result, met and fell in love with him. Rhiannon was still attending college in Canada, having taken a longer course than you had. Jungkook's eyes widened and he began to blush wildly when he realized he was standing where the webcam could pick up his image and now Rhiannon was pointing at her screen, causing you to turn around and see him standing in the doorway. 

"Hey baby," you say sweetly. "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Not really," Jungkook said quickly. "I was wondering why you were awake, though." 

"Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me leave the call." You turned around, facing your monitor. "Sorry, Rhi, but Kookie woke up. I should go back to bed. Talk soon," 

"So this is why you're always getting up at 3," Jungkook softly says as you hang up and shut down your computer, turning back around and standing. Quickly you move across the room to embrace your boyfriend, who immediately melts into the hug and sighs. 

"Yeah," you say softly, "she gets home from work around now and... I miss her a lot. I'm sorry if I woke you up, I don't mean to."

"It's okay, baby," Jungkook runs his hands up and down your back. "Let's go back to bed. Do you think that maybe she can get some time off of work?"

You begin to follow him back to your bedroom, "What do you mean? I guess I can ask her, but why?"

"Well, I have a few extra bucks… maybe she can come for a visit. It's summer vacation for her college, right?" Jungkook smiled down at your shocked face. 

"Y-yeah! Are you sure?"

"Anything for my baby and her best friend." 

~ 

After weeks of planning, Rhiannon had gotten two weeks off of work and gotten the most obscure flight possible so that Jungkook could accompany you to the airport. You had even prepared a silly rainbow sign with her name on it to greet her when she got off the plane. 

"There it is, that's the flight from Toronto!" You grabbed Jungkook's hand and began pulling him to the exit gate before he could react, excitedly jumping about as you walked. The two of you waited for a little while by the exit gate until the passengers began to file out from the check-in stations. Sign be damned because as soon as you saw Rhiannon's face in the small crowd, you dropped it and took off running. 

Jungkook couldn't help but smile beneath his face mask as he stayed behind to avoid the crowd. Jungkook watched you essentially pounce onto your best friend, toppling both of you over into a giggling mess of hugs and noogies. That was how the rest of his day went, watching quietly as you and your best friend wreak chaos wherever you were; as you collected her luggage, walked through the airport, drove home and settled her into your guest room.

On the third day of Rhiannon's visit, you had spent so much time with her that Jungkook had actually begun to feel a little jealous. You had taken her into the heart of Seoul, to a mudflat and to an NCT concert all in the first few days she was here. Even though Jungkook knew you hadn’t seen each other in a long time, he still wanted you to himself for a little while. So, he devised a plan. The first step of that plan was eavesdropping. 

Jungkook had been in the kitchen making a sandwich on the morning of the fourth day, yawning and feeling a little lazy when he heard the giggling. He was almost used to it at this point: girls will be girls. What he found interesting however was the faint mention of Yoongi. With a mischievous grin, Jungkook set down his sandwich and began making his way to the door of the guest room. He pressed his ear up against it, listening.

"This is another picture of Kookie and I while they were filming a bangtan bomb- and there's Yoongi in the back. I have no idea what kind of expression that is, but it's a goal of mine to find an excuse to use it as a reaction image one day." Jungkook smiled when he heard you speaking.

"Ah, you're so lucky you have so much time to spend with them!" Rhiannon responded. "You're just lucky in general."

"Hm, I suppose, but hey, once you graduate you'll be able to find a bomb job too, right?" 

"Yeah," Rhiannon agreed softly. "Let's keep looking. What other Yoongi pictures do you have saved?"

Yoongi. Jungkook caught the name, even if it was in English, and he grinned mischievously. That was going to be his angle. Licking his lips, he stood up straight and rapped his knuckles on the door. 

"You girls okay? I can make you a snack if you'd like before I head to dance practice," he called sweetly. "Unless… you wanna come with me." Jungkook already knew he had won when Rhiannon was the one to open the door a few seconds later, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"You'd really take us to dance practice?" She asked, her voice nearly reaching a squeal. You appeared behind her, searching Jungkook's expression. 

"Yeah, why not?" Jungkook tilted his head toward the front door of the apartment. "Better choose quick cause I gotta leave in a few." 

With that, Rhiannon was already bolting past him with a giddy smile on her face.

You took Jungkook's hand, smiling and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "What are you planning?" 

"Nothing," Jungkook said with a laugh. "Nothing at all." 

~ 

Jungkook wasn't one to outright call himself a genius, but he certainly felt like one. He introduced Rhiannon to everyone once you both had followed him up to their practice room, and before the music started you all shared a small snack. Yoongi already seemed taken with Rhiannon's polite yet giddy attitude, smiling brightly at her with a blush as soon as she began making conversation. It was almost too easy. 

Jungkook danced with confidence, making sure to shoot plenty of confident smiles and winks your way, but blushing as soon as you crossed one leg over the other, raising one eyebrow at him. 

When it was time for a break, you got up and passed Jungkook his bottle of water. "Those two are really hitting it off," you comment idly, latching onto your boyfriend in a hug.

"Yeah, they are," Jungkook agreed. "It's really cute," 

"Did you plan this, you little sneak?" 

Jungkook nearly burst into laughter. "Maybe a little bit, but I wasn't expecting them to glue themselves to each other," he nods in their direction, your eyes following his gesture. "I just wanted you all to myself again." 

Rhiannon and Yoongi were practically glued to each other, chatting away quietly. The ways they looked at one another reminded you of you and Jungkook when you first met. 

"Seeing that look from the outside is really endearing," you comment, pressing your ear against Jungkook's chest, listening to his heartbeat. "If they start being like that so quickly," 

Jungkook grinned triumphantly, "the rest will be history."

[mymoodwriting]

The Choice Is Yours

F!Reader x Vampire!Yuta

Genre: Vampire Dystopia

Warning: None

Words: 1K

Chapters:

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Epilogue

Prompt: Good behavior goes a long way when a new world order is established within hours and humans wind up at the bottom of the food chain. As luck would have it you were claimed by a vampire named Yuta, so you’re saved in a sense. Many would say you’re in a rather unique situation, and despite its perks it wasn’t really something you asked for.

“What’s it like… to change?”

Yuta chuckled. “What do you mean? You already have.”

“But the next time it would be different… I wouldn’t be human at all…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Despite everything, we’ve never talked about what you did before. Your life… well your human life.”

“I thought you read my file?”

“I did, but that’s the basic outline. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but just… overtime that part of your life will start to fade away.”

“You don’t remember being human?”

“Not really, sometimes it’s hard to believe I was once human.”

“You’re really old, aren’t you?”

“Wow, thanks for that.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I’m pretty sure all these smart phones and computers weren’t a thing in my time.”

You two had gotten a moment to yourselves. Ever since the status change you were expected at Taeyong’s family gatherings, you were an actual member now. Over the years you got to know everyone else, and they really did feel like family. On this occasion there was a celebration for Mark, as he had now transitioned into a vampire, and with that it made you wonder about your own future.

“Taeyong has always suggested keeping a journal. Your mind can only hold so much, especially when you live forever.”

“Do you have some?”

“Yeah. I think I stopped, but I have some good memories saved there. They’re in the library at home, if you ever want to read them.”

“Do you read them?”

“I haven’t in a few decades.”

“Then why write them?”

“To save the memories, and also to have if I ever need to remember my roots. I know that’s Taeyong’s reasoning for having them.”

“That’s humbling.”

“You’re still a long way from that so don’t worry too much.”

“You really want me to be a vampire?”

“I do, but if you don’t want it I-”

“I can’t go back, so it’s not like I have much choice.”

“I should have been better about that.”

“Yup.”

“Which is why I am going to be better about this. Whenever you’re ready, or if you never are, either way I want you with me.”

“You’re bad with romance, you know that.”

“I’m out of practice.”

“I know that.”

“So perhaps you can help me out.”

“Wrong person to ask. I didn’t date much.”

“No? I thought human life was more exciting.”

“For some, but I didn’t have the luxury for excitement. So dating wasn’t something I did much.”

“You still have a better idea than me.” 

“That’s probably true.”

“And anything is on the table.”

“I’m aware. You’re rich and royal in this world.”

“I… no, yeah you have a point. I suppose I can make your wildest dreams come true.”

“You really think… taking over is for the best.”

“Elaborate.”

“Keeping humans as… you’ve had your riots and things… I still remember that day at the farm…”

“There are some bad seeds out there, I’ll admit, but we have the best intentions to take care of humans. We do care for them, they’re not slaves.”

“I suppose they’ll eventually forget what life was like before.”

“Give it a few generations.”

“Are you ever gonna have humans in the house again or just the halfbreeds?”

“Haldbreeds for now. I’m not sure about humans at the moment.”

“I see. Can I ask you something though?”

“What?”

“Taeyong… he cares a lot about humans, is he just like that or is there a reason?”

“He… he’s very old, I think he’s such a romantic and enamored with humans, fascinated by them.”

“Yeah, I trust he’ll take care of those under him. You guys as well.”

“Glad to hear. Should we go back in?”

“Probably. I want to see Mark get wasted on blood wine.”

Since you were still young it was easy to remember your life before this change. Of course you’d forget too, so that weighed on you. In the moment a lot was brought to your attention. You tried not to bring down the mood, but Yuta would eventually notice how quiet you were being. While dancing he held you close, whispering in your ear.

“Our conversation earlier didn’t ease all your worries did it?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be, we need to have this conversation. I’d rather have it now than later. What’s on your mind?”

“Eternity.”

“How come?”

“You and me… what if we get into a fight? I can’t just leave…”

“I’d give you your space and make sure we move past it.”

“What if I grow to hate you?”

“I won’t allow that. As long as we treat each other well and admit our wrongs, there’s no reason for hate to grow between us.”

“But… what if…”

“Y/n.” Yuta stopped and made sure to look you in the eye. “I vow to take care of you for every moment going forward. We had a rough start, but I want you to trust me. Let me show you I mean every word I’m saying now.”

You smiled. “Alright, you’re not a terrible romantic.”

“Can you trust me?”

“I can do that, but I… I want you to say those words to me… the ones you said to me when you were drunk.”

“I’ve said a lot.”

“You know the ones.”

“I do.” Yuta pressed his lips to yours. “I love you.”

“Me too.”

[cherienymphe]

Protect & Serve V (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: Cop!Steve, NON-CON, mentions of violence and murder and assault

IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU, PLEASE DNI

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary:  escaping an ugly past, you have no choice but to return home. While much has remained the same, Officer Rogers is a new addition who has won over the hearts of the town in your absence. And no one believes you when you start to see him for who he really is

~

When you woke up, you felt like you’d slept for days. Knowing Steve, and having no clue as to what he injected you with, that might be true. You had dry mouth, that much you could tell, and your head still felt like it weighed a ton. Peeling your eyes open was rather difficult, but when you did, you realized that you were in a different room from the one before.

You pushed yourself up to lean on your forearms, looking around and listening. The house was quiet, a far cry from the last time you were here. You guessed that all of Steve’s guests were gone, and you didn’t know if you should be relieved or not. You didn’t know why you thought their presence would protect you when it wouldn’t. They had literally helped Steve recapture you after also watching your unconscious form be carried into his house to begin with. Maybe it was better that they were gone…

Now you could start formulating another escape without them around to catch you.

A stabbing pain struck you behind your eyes, and you squinted, bringing your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose. You cursed Steve to hell and back. Why had he given you the option of walking back with him when he was going to do what he wanted anyway? Did he get some sick pleasure out of it all?

Speaking of pleasure, you noted the soreness in between your thighs and wondered if Steve had done a lot more to you while you were out. He’d said that it wasn’t his style, but he couldn’t be trusted. You pressed your thighs together and winced, sitting up. Just as you considered what to do next, the bedroom door opened.

You sharply inhaled as Steve filled the doorway, heart rate picking up at the sight of him. Was it crazy that you were more terrified of him than you had been of your ex-husband? At least with Killian, you had grown to know what to expect. Steve had shattered every one of your expectations.

“You’re awake,” he said, stepping further into the room.

You didn’t know what to do, so you just stared at him as he approached. For your own sake, you needed to keep your eyes on him at all times. Escape was your top priority, and you had to think smart about it. He gripped your chin, turning your head to the side to gaze at your eyes, and hummed, clearly satisfied.

“You’ve been asleep for almost an entire day,” he informed you, grabbing your arm.

He helped you out of bed, and you let him. Your body was still fighting off whatever he gave you, and you stumbled. Steve was more than happy to catch you though, arm thrown around you, hand digging into your shoulder as he leaned you into his side.

He was patient as he helped you out of the room and down the stairs. The smell of food hit you, and you sniffed, stomach grumbling. Steve heard it and chuckled.

“I made breakfast,” he said, leading you into the kitchen.

A modest dining table was on the far side, and your eyes fell to the food laid upon it. You couldn’t trust him, having no idea as to what he wanted from you, so there was no telling what was in the food. However, you couldn’t afford to not eat. Steve turned his back after helping you sit down, and you glanced through the living room to look at the lake on the other side of the window. Getting across that lake was your best chance…

Too busy staring, you didn’t notice him approach until your hands were being handcuffed to the arms of the chair. You gasped, and he did the same with your ankles. Forgetting about your injury, you jerked your legs, only to cry out at the pain that traveled through your ankle. Steve hummed at that, sitting next to you.

“You gave Bucky and Sam hell. Thor too,” he added.

You watched as he picked up some scrambled eggs on a fork before bringing it to your lips. Realizing that you didn’t have much of a choice, you reluctantly parted them. The food tasted good enough, and he fed you again.

You licked your lips.

“You sound surprised,” you whispered, eyes meeting his.

A faint smirk was on his lips, and he chuckled.

“Not surprised…impressed. I like a fighter,” he said, reaching out to grab his glass of water.

He never broke his gaze from over the rim of the glass, and you blinked.

“…but I could tell that from the first moment I met you. So reluctant to accept a ride from a nice small-town cop-.”

“There isn’t anything nice about you,” you sneered.

Steve chuckled, nodding fondly.

“I suppose you’re right about that,” he agreed. “Nevertheless, the average person doesn’t pick up on that. Of course…you would…”

You glanced away as he fed you again.

“…tell me about him,” he eventually said.

You looked back to him with a frown. You knew who he was talking about, and your heart clenched. He pressed his elbows into the wood of the table, hands clasped together as he eyed you.

“Your ex-husband,” he elaborated.

You heaved a deep sigh, frustration coloring your tone.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know,” was his simple response.

You swallowed, a shiver climbing up your spine as you thought about the other blond man in your life.

“What…what do you want to know?” you wondered with a shrug.

He reached out to brush a finger down the side of your face, running it over your bottom lip.

“Tell me why you stayed,” he quietly demanded.

Figuring there was no harm in humoring him, you answered.

“I…was afraid. I had nowhere to go and…part of me…felt like I was being punished. Like I deserved it…”

“For what?”

“For leaving my family and friends behind,” you murmured. “For ignoring them for years…”

Steve nodded at that, pulling his hand away.

“I am sorry about your family. I meant that when I told you that. They were good people,” he replied.

You blinked. Of course, he had known them. How could he not? It didn’t sit right with you that someone like him had interacted with your family…especially while you weren’t around. You wondered how he behaved towards them, if he ever made any of them feel as uncomfortable as he did with you.

“The funerals were lovely. Was he the reason you didn’t go?”

You suddenly found it hard to swallow, and tears kissed your eyes as he brought that up. He reached out to brush a rogue one away, and you jerked away from him. Missing the funerals of your family was definitely your biggest regret. Every time you thought about it, your hate for Killian grew.

You didn’t have to answer because Steve already knew.

“Bucky told me that you thought he was the one at your house every night. He said that you had feared he would find you,” he said, making you frown at the mention of the brunette.

You looked down when his hand found yours, brushing circles into the skin with his thumb.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

You clenched your jaw, biting back what you wanted to say, and seeing the look on your face made Steve laugh. You looked up at him, gaze cold.

“I know what you must be thinking…that I won’t get away with this…”

He took another bite, leaning back in his chair as he eyed you smugly.

“…but I will. Hell, I’ve gotten away with worse,” he chuckled.

Your brow twitched, and you narrowed your eyes at him, recalling something that Wanda had said.

“Peggy?”

You watched the way his face fell, and you continued.

“Wanda said she’d just…left right after the breakup. I never thought that seemed her style…”

Your tone was accusatory, and apparently with good reason. Steve slowly exhaled, straightening up as he rubbed his hand over his chin, elbow pressed into the table as his eyes gazed at something you couldn’t see.

“Peggy…was an accident,” he admitted, and genuine remorse registered on his features.

Remorseful or not, your eyes still widened as he confirmed what you had initially suspected but brushed off, convinced that your paranoia was getting the best of you. Now, you knew the truth. You weren’t just sitting with a kidnapper, but you were sitting with a murderer too.

“You see, I started having my fun before I came here. I’d help out unsuspecting girls in need. Sometimes they were homeless…sometimes they just needed a ride home…to the store…”

Horror filled you as he spoke, and you started to realize that you weren’t dealing with an amateur.

“They’d get in, and I’d offer them a bottle of water I kept inside.”

Of course, they would. Steve Rogers looked like the poster boy for good Samaritans everywhere. Those soft blue eyes could convince anyone. Said eyes met yours, serious.

“They’d always accept. Either out of genuine thirst or just to avoid being rude, I don’t know. I didn’t care. They’d be knocked out within minutes…”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

“…when I was done, I’d park at wherever they had wanted me to take them to. They’d eventually arouse, and I’d convince them that they had nodded off. None of them ever suspected, and if they did, what could they say?”

He rose an eyebrow.

“The friendly neighborhood cop, Officer Rogers, drugged and raped me?”

He scoffed, and you blinked away tears.

“…and Peggy?” you forced out.

Steve sighed.

“I got tired of the coldness and casualness of it all,” he said with a shrug. “I realized that I wasn’t getting any younger, and Peggy… She was so sweet.”

He sadly shook his head.

“Like every other woman in this town, she was itching at the chance to have me. But unlike the rest, she wasn’t bold about it. She was coy, and I liked that. It wasn’t long before I had her in the palm of my hands,” he chuckled at that. “Literally.”

Disgust churned in your stomach.

“She was everything I thought she’d be. Except…she wasn’t.”

When he looked at you again, his eyes were hard, face taut with tension as he recalled whatever memory you hadn’t been privy to.

“Peggy had plans,” he dragged out, voice low as he took another sip. “She wanted to achieve all of these great things…see the world…leave me.”

He huffed.

“We fought. Things got…physical, and the next thing I know, my hands are around her neck.”

You swallowed, tears spilling over now.

“Jesus,” he quietly scoffed. “I didn’t even realize until I let her go and she just…dropped.”

More tears fell, and he finally took notice. He reached over to wipe them, and you flinched.

“That’s right,” he hummed. “You grew up with her.”

He moved to feed you some more, but you shook your head, appetite lost. He let the fork drop before leaning back in his seat. He turned to look though the living room, eyes roaming over the lake through the window.

“She’s in that lake, you know. I think about her every time I look out onto it,” he quietly said, more to himself than you.

You sniffed, throat tight and chest burning. Fear gripped you, and you wondered if that was going to be your fate. Steve suddenly moved his chair closer to you, and you cried harder. He shushed you, reaching for you to wipe your face with his thumbs.

“That won’t be you. I promise,” he said as if reading your mind, hands resting on the sides of your face.

You shook your head.

“Why me?” you quietly asked him, no longer able to keep it in.

You had to know.

“I could see how broken you were,” he hummed, eyes roaming over your face. “…and I thought that I could fix you. That maybe we could fix each other, hmm? I give you the safety and security and love you’ve been craving for years, and you give me what I want.”

You frantically blinked, eyes searching his face.

“I could see that you wanted me too. Deep down, anyway. After all, I was a good guy. I’m sure Wanda told you something like that, didn’t she? That I would be good for you…and you had thought about it, considered it. I could see it in your eyes that night,” he continued. “Wondering what it would be like to be with a genuinely good guy…”

“I wasn’t ready,” you mumbled.

He took a deep breath.

“I know, but unfortunately for you… I don’t have much patience. At least not when it comes to something I know I want.”

“What…what do you want from me?” you finally wondered.

He let out a breath, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip as he stood, towering over you.

“I want you to look at me with complete adoration as I come inside of you. I want to come inside of you every night, calling you wife while I fill you with my children. I want to make love to you when you’re glowing and round with my child, but…right now…”

He reached for your plate again, bringing some more eggs to your lips.

“I want you to finish your food.”

Too stunned by his admission, you allowed him to feed you, fear gripping your heart at what would happen if you didn’t escape.

When you weren’t locked away in the room, and when you weren’t handcuffed at the table, Steve pretty much allowed you free reign. He was at your side at all times, of course, closely hovering. You figured it was best to seem cooperative. Of course, you didn’t think Steve was gullible enough to believe that you had accepted your situation. You both knew that you were just biding your time. It was only a matter of thinking of a way to escape before he thought of a way to stop you before you even tried.

You feared what he would do to keep you here…feared what he would do if he caught you trying to leave. You thought of Peggy, of how she had simply brought up the idea of leaving and had died for it. Steve’s desires weighed on your mind, and you knew that you only had so much time before he started to go through with them.

That second morning, you had woken up to the feel of a hard chest pressed against your back, a thick arm curling over your waist. It had taken you a moment to understand that the second room you had woken up in was his room. You had jerked in his grip, attempting to get away from him, but your movements had aroused him…in more ways than one.

His hold tightened, pulling you closer, and he groaned as sleep began to leave him. You could feel him poking against you, hard and hot, and you had panicked. You fought to get away from him, and he swiftly pushed you to lie on your back, settling in between your legs. Your hands, having attempted to push him away, were pinned between your bodies as he kissed you.

You gasped against his mouth, and his tongue slipped past your lips, tasting the inside of your mouth. His arms were pressed down on either side of you, caging you in, and you felt like you were suffocating. Steve paid no mind to your aversion, moaning against your trembling lips. One of his hands reached down to wrap around your wrists, dragging them above you until they were pinned just below the headboard.

His other hand slid down your side, kneading your skin as it descended. He ground himself against you, his hardened member poking at you through his shorts. You only had on a nightgown that he’d left outside of the shower the night before. You had briefly wondered if it belonged to Peggy. This very thing was a pressing concern of yours when you noticed the absence of underwear.

His free hand moved to make a home in between your legs, fingers brushing against and poking at you. You bit his tongue, hard, and you tasted blood. He ripped his face away from you with a hiss, and your satisfaction was short lived when he shoved two fingers inside of you to the hilt.

Your chest arched, a choked sound escaping your lips as he roughly fingered you. You turned your head away when he leaned back down, and his lips met your cheek.

“Do that again,” he whispered, lips moving against your skin. “…and I’ll make you pay for it.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his fingers glide within you more easily now. He hummed, mouth trailing down to your neck, sucking on the skin. You squirmed beneath him, trying to fight off the pleasure that was being forced on you. Your legs kicked around him, and he widened his, pushing his knees underneath your thighs to restrict your movement.

You pushed your wrists against his hands as he added a third finger, stretching you out. A moan threatened to bubble out of your throat, but you swallowed it down, whimpering instead. Steve wasn’t pleased with that. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you, thumb coming up to brush against your swollen bud, and you whimpered again.

His hands tightened around your wrists as he sped up, almost painfully so, and he grinded against you. His lips attached themselves to your neck, pulling the skin in between his teeth, laving his tongue over you. He curled his fingers, and a broken moan finally slipped from your lips. He did it again and was met with the same result.

You turned your face as much into the pillow as you possible could, but Steve’s lips sought out your own, covering them in another kiss. He swallowed your moans, groaning into your mouth as your hips bucked against his hand. The hand that was holding your wrists down moved to intertwine with one of yours. You quickly pushed your free hand against his stomach, and when that didn’t work, you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

Your efforts were useless, Steve effortlessly working his fingers into you again and again.

“Stop,” you finally begged against his lips.

“Come for me, and I will,” he roughly replied.

He flicked his thumb over your bundle of nerves again, and you fell apart beneath him. He pulled back ever so slightly, your moans permeating through the air as he looked down at you. A few of his blond strands tickled your own forehead, and his nose kept brushing against yours as he worked you through your climax.

He looked down, eyes focused on the way you clenched around his fingers, hand a mess. Your chest heaved, breath shaky as he tightened his hold on your hand. You’d just woken up, but you felt tired all over again. He finally pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his lips and humming.

“Good girl,” he murmured as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

He rolled off of you, and you caught sight of the large tent in his shorts. You looked away, hurriedly pulling your nightgown back down, disgust coursing through you. You didn’t move as he strode into the bathroom and turned the shower on. You only did so when low moans reached you minutes later, and you moved to exit the room, but it was locked. You noticed what looked like a key pad on the wall next to the light switch. You hadn’t noticed it the day before.

Realizing that you’d have to sit here and listen to him get himself off, you sat back down, covering your ears. You were still in that position when he finally exited, a towel loosely hanging on his lips. You watched as he walked into the closet and came back out with clothes that were clearly meant for you. Again, you wondered if these belonged to Peggy. He ushered you into the bathroom before you could give it any more thought.

Your time in the bathroom was quick. Your quick search of the cabinets turned up nothing useful for you. No type of medication or sedatives or anything. You would have loved nothing more to spend all day in the bathroom, but you didn’t want to give Steve the opportunity to check on you and see you naked. The clothes fit perfectly, and it was then that you decided they weren’t Peggy’s.

The idea that Steve found clothes that were perfectly in your size made your stomach churn.

He was waiting for you when you got out, and he reached for you as soon as you were near. One hand went to the back of your neck, holding you beside him while the other went to what you thought was the keypad. You watched in awe as he pressed his thumb against it, and the pad flashed green just before he reached to open the door.

“Buck and Sam are coming by later,” he told as he guided you down the stairs. “I don’t think I need to remind you not to do anything stupid, do I?”

You shook your head.

“Anyway, just in case…”

He stopped before the door of the basement. Apprehension filled you as he opened it and guided you in, his chest brushing your back as you walked. You walked down some stairs, stopping at another door. This one was sturdier and had a bar that fell across it. You watched as Steve lifted the bar and pushed you in.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet before straightening yourself. You could feel Steve behind you as you looked around, and your heart dropped. It was a room, furnished with a single bed, a toilet, and a sink. You swallowed in fear, taking a step back, recoiling when you bumped into him.

Steve wrapped his arm around you, lips at your ear.

“I don’t want to have to put you in here, but I will if you force me to. Is that understood?”

You gave him a shaky nod. His hand closed around your throat, and you gasped, reaching up to grab his arm as he lifted you, your toes grazing the floor.

“I want to hear you say it,” he whispered.

“I understand,” you shakily replied, and satisfied, he let you go.

He spun you around, one hand on your jaw as he tilted your head, lips brushing your cheek and then your ear.

“Be good for me…and I’ll be good to you,” he quietly told you.

He didn’t wait for a response before guiding you up the stairs. You reached the hallway again just as a knock sounded on the front door. He pulled you along, keeping you at his side as he went to answer it.

Sam and Bucky had grins on their faces and greetings on their lips when Steve opened the door. However, Bucky’s face fell when his eyes met yours. You took in the red marks on the side of his face, and you couldn’t keep the smug expression off of yours even if you tried. He let them in, hand sliding around your waist as he closed the door.

You flinched, and he tightened his arm around you. Bucky looked over his shoulder at you, lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“Like the new look?” he wondered, gesturing to his face.

You simply looked at him, and both Sam and Steve chuckled.

“Maybe if you weren’t slacking…” Sam’s words trailed off as they entered the kitchen, but Steve pushed you towards the living room.

He pressed his lips to your forehead before pushing you down onto the couch. You swallowed, watching as he joined Sam and Bucky in the kitchen. Sam’s eyes were on you, and he turned to Steve.

“She’s quiet,” you heard him say.

“No. She’s not quiet,” Steve replied, calculating eyes meeting yours before he ran them over you.

He smirked.

“She’s smart,” he argued.

He looked away, and so did you, eyes looking through the backdoor to roam over the lake. If only you could get to the lake. When the time was right…

Sam and Bucky didn’t stay for long. Steve had waved them goodbye with one arm securely around your waist. You watched them get back into the car, the police cruiser, and your stomach churned, still in disbelief that the supposed good guys were nothing but scum.

You wanted to know how they could be okay with what Steve was doing. You wanted to know how they justified it, and unable to keep it in, you asked him. He didn’t respond right away, instead heaving a sigh as he pressed one hand into the wall beside your head, caging you in.

“After Peggy, I went back to my…casual encounters…”

You frowned at how he worded it, and he chuckled at that.

“…not often like I did before, but just enough to satisfy me… They caught me one day…”

He smiled as if he were thinking back on a fond memory, and you were almost sorry you’d asked.

“They wanted in on it too.”

Your eyes widened as they met his gaze, and your lips parted as you registered what he was saying. He reached up to brush his thumb over your trembling lips, his own parting.

“Eventually Thor got roped in too. His brother Loki prefers to sit out on the festivities, but he doesn’t mind. I don’t think you’ve been properly introduced to them,” he added. “Loki is a lawyer, and Thor is a cop in the next county over. They come over from time to time. Usually for a game.”

Now you were positive that you were going to be sick, and Steve continued.

“Thor wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous about it when he’s here…and the boss caught on one day. We’re the best cops in town though. We keep these people safe and crime is practically nonexistent, so… So long as we’re discreet, he looks the other way,” he told you.

You turned away from him, tears in your eyes. He pressed his lips to your cheek, inhaling.

“Do you see, now? You have no one to run to. No one will help you,” he whispered darkly, hand landing on your shoulder, digging in, the other trailing to cup your ass. “We run this town…”

He pressed a leg in between yours, and you pushed against him, but he was faster. He grabbed your wrists, slamming them against the wall as he forced his mouth on yours. You kicked at his legs, but it was hard to do when one of his separated yours.

He pulled you away from the wall, lips never parting from yours as he turned and forced you back. You stumbled and tripped over your feet, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. When that didn’t work, you brought your knee up, and Steve pulled back with a grunt.

Slipping out of his arms, you ran towards the backdoor, but his hands in your hair stopped you. You screamed as your scalp protested his tight hold, and he yanked you back into his chest, one hand closing around your throat. His chest heaved against your back, harsh breaths in your ear.

“Remember what I said,” he whispered, deep voice threatening. “Be good for me…and I’ll be good to you…”

You hadn’t realized you were crying until he walked you forward towards the couch. Your face crumbled as he pushed you down, one hand sliding up the thin dress he’d given you to wear. His hand grazed your bare slit, and you cried harder.

As awful as Killian had been, he’d never forced himself on you. It was crazy to think that in all the years you’d experienced violence at his hand, none of it had ever been sexual. That was a line that he had never crossed.

Steve flipped you, and you immediately fought against him as he ripped at your dress. He caught your wrists, holding them away as he dipped down to wrap his lips around one breast, bud hardened from the cool air in the house. He moved his head to give the other the same attention, and you cried out, pushing against him.

He suddenly jerked your wrist, and you cried out, pain traveling down your arm. He looked up at you, eyes cold as both desire and anger warred within them.

“I will break both of them,” he harshly said, making you freeze.

You couldn’t swim across the lake with a broken wrist, let alone two. He let you go, hands hovering over your own for a while to make sure you would behave. Pleased, he swiftly undressed, and you looked away from him, eyes on the ceiling. He tsk’d, reaching for your chin to turn your head.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered.

Too afraid to defy him, you watched as he grabbed your ankles, spreading and lifting your legs as he moved closer. He was hard and throbbing, bigger than Killian was, and you shook beneath him. There was no warning, no teasing… Steve slid into you with one thrust.

Having been wholly unprepared, you yelped in pain, head falling back on the arm of the couch. He rested your legs on his shoulders, leaning over you as he forced your knees to your shoulders. All of your movement was restricted, and the only thing you could do was press your hands into his waist. A few tears escaped your eyes, and Steve kissed them away.

His breath was shaky, blond hair hanging into his forehead as he savored the feel of you wrapped around him. He rested his forearms on the arm of the couch, caging you in, and you felt incredibly hot being surrounded by him. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth before moving them down to your jaw, nipping at the skin there.

He slowly pulled his hips back until nothing but the tip of him remained inside of you. He was slow to thrust too, and you squirmed, nails digging into his waist. The position you were in didn’t allow for you to do anything other than lay there and take it. Steve gradually began to pick up his pace, and the couch trembled from the force of his thrusts.

You wanted to close your eyes so badly, but you were afraid of what he’d do if you did. His lips never stayed in one place, kissing every part of your face that they could. Occasionally, his hand would brush over your cheek or shoulder. Sometimes he’d reach down and flick his fingers over you. Unable to do anything, you had no choice but to accept the pleasure he was forcing on you.

His skin slapped against yours in the quiet house, and you whimpered as he rested his forehead against yours, blue eyes boring into your own. As quiet as you tried to be, he could see the pleasure on your face, and the corner of his lips curved upwards. He kissed you, slow and soft, and you hated it. His lips didn’t part from yours as his thrusts grew erratic and choppy.

Too many things were happening at once, it was too intense for you, and you turned your head. Steve snarled at that and fisted his hand in your hair, yanking your head towards him again. He kissed you harder this time, slamming into you as he did so. Tears streamed down your face as you felt your stomach tightening, toes curling while you clenched around him.

“That’s it,” he murmured into your mouth. “Come for me…”

You pressed your nails harder into his skin, trying to fight it off, but it was no use. Steve didn’t relent in his movements, and soon, you were coming around him. Your climax struck you like a punch, stomach aching as it tightened, core fluttering around Steve’s unyielding cock. You slapped your hands against him as he fucked you through it, tears in your eyes again.

“Be good for me,” he reminded you, and you shook your head.

You reached in between you to press your hands to his stomach, turning your head away. Steve’s breathing was harsh above you, chest heaving as he thrust into your soaking core.

“Steve,” you begged, pushing against him.

“You’ve got another in you, I know you do.”

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before he threw you head first into another, and your mind spun as a choked moan slipped out of your mouth. You couldn’t swallow it down even if you tried, and Steve groaned. One of your hands was on his chest, the other on his shoulder, but he wouldn’t budge. Your legs trembled, and you involuntarily closed them as you tried to stem the oversensitivity, inadvertently locking them around his neck.

“Steve... Steve, please,” you begged, out of breath.

His lips found yours again, and he growled into your mouth.

“One more,” he whispered. “Give me one more.”

You tried to duck your head, but he followed, lips brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Give me one more…”

Stars appeared behind your eyes as you came for a third time, choking his cock. Steve let out a low moan as you gripped him, the sound drawing out into a groan. You could feel the mess you were making, but Steve didn’t mind as he pressed kisses to your cheek, your jaw, your neck…

“Look how good you are for me. Such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, spilling into you.

You shuddered at the feel, and Steve fucked his cum into you, hissing. He sat up to move your legs off of him, and relief filled you as they fell limply around him. He pressed his chest against yours again, hands cupped underneath your thighs as he lazily moved within you.

“See how good I can make you feel…” he said, lips grazing yours. “…when you’re good for me.”

~

tags:  @xoxabs88xox  @darkficreposter   @mcudarklibrary @captainchrisstan @nickyl316h @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @readermia @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @opheliadawnwalker3 @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21  @stargazingfangirl18   @lou-la-lou @izzfizzh @thatgirly81 @autty0314 @hinata7346 @lokislastlove @honorarytenenbaum @void-hoechlin  @autty0314​ 

[blossom-hwa]

Danger: Stalemate - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.3k

Lesson 8: where one journey ends, another begins, oftentimes more difficult than the first.

Previous: Crown >> Stalemate 

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Taglist will be reblogged! Send a dm or an ask to be added! ]

Younghoon has seen Somin angry before, but never to this extent. Anger doesn’t even begin to cover the expression on her face – there’s something wild in her features, something that bleeds of absolute fury and sends terror striking to the core of his bones.

He stays still, suddenly very glad that he was able to send Minho to get Haknyeon out of here before the sun fully rises. Despite all he said, he can’t be sure Somin wouldn’t kill off his best friend in a fit of anger. Better that he leave first with a tiny chance of escaping rather than stay here and risk an almost certainty of dying.

Speaking of dying, Younghoon wouldn’t count himself out of that fate by the end of the day. Somin’s face has composed itself, but the way her hands bunch into her skirts speaks volumes about her true feelings.

One arm raises, her fingers flicking in a gesture of dismissal. Several guards exit the room, leaving Younghoon alone with a power-hungry maniac who looks ready to rip him limb from limb.

A drop of sweat rolls down the back of his neck.

“I suppose you thought your stunt was funny,” Somin finally says, unfisting her other hand out of her skirt. Her fingers splay on the table separating them, slim, lithe, pale, and Younghoon imagines the carefully trimmed nails growing longer and longer, snaking across the wood to pin him in place.

He shoves the image away. “That’s one way to put it, I suppose.”

Somin snarls. “You betrayed your own kingdom.”

“Not so.”

“Really?” One perfect eyebrow raises. Younghoon has to admire her ability to look so put together even in her nightclothes after almost no sleep. “Elaborate.”

Younghoon allows a cordial smile to pass over his face. “My duty as king is to do what I deem best for the kingdom,” he says, heart pounding. “That is the oath I took when I accepted the crown. I do not deem your methods suitable for the interests of my people.”

My people.

Somin notices his deliberate choice of words. Fury flashes across her eyes, nails digging into the table, but she doesn’t lunge like Younghoon thought she might. “It is regrettable that we do not agree on what will benefit our kingdom the most,” she says lightly.

Our. Younghoon wants to laugh. Since when has Somin cared about the common pawns under her rule? “Quite.”

Somin scoffs. “Indeed. I dare say that, however, my methods will win out in the end, despite this… temporary setback.”

That makes Younghoon blink. “You – what?” His composure slips. “You can’t think you’ll get the crown back.”

“Oh, I might not have the crown.” For the first time, a smile, a real, terrifying smile widens across Somin’s lips. “But a king must be crowned by a queen, no?”

A queen. Yes. A king cannot be crowned by anyone else, but Juyeon has a queen. His sister. What does Somin mean –

His eyes widen. “What did you do to her?”

Somin sneers. “Not as much as I’d like to have done,” she sniffs. “But we are in a stalemate, and she is away from the palace. As far as I know, she is alone, and…” Her smile widens. “From what I understand of her position, the presence of any pawn would only destabilize it. Even a royal one.”

No.

No.

Younghoon clenches his hands into fists, trying to stop their shaking. “You’re lying,” he says, praying for a sign of untruth in Somin’s eyes. “You’re lying.” It can’t be that Juyeon, Kevin, and Jacob endured so much only to fall into yet another one of Somin’s ruthlessly intelligent traps.

But Somin only laughs, empty mirth echoing on the stone walls. “You thought I wouldn’t let them go if I wasn’t sure of a victory?”

Younghoon has to hold onto the side of the table to keep from falling over completely. His legs tremble as he tries to wrap his head around Somin’s words.

“So you see, I still win in the end.” She smiles, leaning forward. The image of a snake rearing its head to strike flashes through Younghoon’s mind. “There is only one way out of a stalemate, you know.”

The unspoken word hangs heavily in the air.

Surrender.

Somehow, Younghoon finds his voice. “They won’t be conquered so easily,” he says, endlessly thankful that his words don’t betray the terror flooding his veins. “Juyeon is still alive. He may not be king, but he can rally an army. And his sister is still a force on her own, you know.” His fingers clench on the table. “After all, they always did say she was smarter than you.”

Somin laughs again, though an edge of anger tints the sound. “I must disagree with you,” she replies, smile still intact. “I have the larger army. I have the power to move. I am the one who has placed her in a stalemate.”

“No one places the other in a stalemate,” Younghoon retorts. “If anything, I would say she is far more intelligent for being able to maneuver you into such a position, even after you began capturing her mages and killing her troops.”

“Does it matter?” Somin sneers. “I have the upper hand. And even if she or the prince managed to worm their way out of my control, do you really think I’m not smart enough to figure a way past it?”

“Oh, I believe you might.” Younghoon smiles, lips tinged with venom. “I hope you won’t, but you certainly are intelligent enough that you might. Allow me, however, to remind you of something the former queen understood much better than you.”

Somin cocks her head, looking almost bored. “Do enlighten me.”

Younghoon leans across the table. “Intelligence alone does not make a queen.”

Silence. 

Then the sound of Somin’s tinkling laughter. 

“You’ve reminded me of this many times, Younghoon.” Eyes bright with mania stare into his. “And I understand. Why do you think I keep you around, after all?”

If Younghoon lifted his hand, he’d see crescents from his nails imprinted in the wooden table. Checkmate.

“This was an enlightening conversation, my king,” Somin says, breaking the silence once more. She sweeps around the table, stepping forward enough to pat him on the cheek. He jerks away. “I do hope, however, that you will reconsider my thoughts on what is best for our kingdom. It is best, after all, for the two of us to present a united front in these turbulent times.”

“Turbulent times that you caused?” Younghoon snaps.

Somin only smiles as her skirts rustle out of the room. Younghoon manages to stay upright for one more second before his knees give out. 

Hands clasp automatically in the traditional position of prayer as his head falls forward, eyes snapping shut. This isn’t a shrine, isn’t a holy place, but Younghoon thinks the orders will hear his prayer regardless. 

They have to.

I revere the higher orders of the Board and beseech them to answer my prayer, loyal servant to the balance that I am. I pray for Prince Juyeon of the Onyx Kingdom, the amethyst heir Kevin Moon, and the esteemed mage Jacob Bae. I pray that they return home safely to their kingdom without harm.

He swallows hard, nails digging into his skin.

I pray that they will create a plan to defeat Somin, that they will find a queen ready and able to crown Juyeon king. I pray that if there is anything I can do to help, I will take that opportunity without a second’s thought. I pray that balance will be restored once more.

His head dips further as he squeezes his eyes tightly shut, sending one last prayer to the orders listening above.

I pray that we have the strength to carry out your will.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for me please don’t murder me for this)

[qvid-pro-qvo]

Could I request prompt 44 from the random prompt list with Hotch? Please and thank you! Have a nice day! Xx

aaron hotchner x gender neutral reader.

word count: 1700

rating: mature, for the worst kind of conversations, and that moment when you realize some family you have to choose (tw for an unhealthy mother-child relationship. most of this fic is an argument between reader and mom.)

-

The other end of the line is quiet.

“Mom,” you prod, and there’s a gentle sigh, one that seems to sink any hopes you have of this going smoothly. It’s later for you, than it is for her, and your eyes are heavy after a long day on at the hospital.

“Well, honey,” she murmurs. “I just don’t know.”

“Mom,” you repeat, but she cuts you off. Good thing, too, because your frustration is starting to rise. It makes your chest feel warm, that feeling, and it isn’t soothed by what your mom has said and continues to say over the phone.

“Don’t you want something more elaborate?” she prods, and you find yourself clicking out completely of the venue options you have bookmarked. A hand lifts, to rub at the spot between your eyebrows, and that’s what Aaron walks in on, a box in his hand to add to the growing pile of boxes in the corner. “It’s just so… plain.”

“Mom, we’re moving. Jack’s starting high school. I’m planning a wedding. Elaborate is not in our dictionary right now,” you remind her, but the sigh that she answers with is loud enough that even Aaron winces.

He’s smart, though. Doesn’t leave the room again, comes and sits next to you on the couch. Your laptop is whirring, still trying to cool down after the twenty tabs you exit out of, and without thinking you lean back against him. His arm wraps around your shoulders, and for a moment you’re there before you’re leaning even further back, head in his lap.

You don’t put it on speakerphone. He’s close enough that he can hear it all anyway. And even if he couldn’t, just reading your face would tell him that, yet again, your mother wasn’t getting what she wanted, and well. That told the whole story.

“If you’re worried about money…”

“It’s not money, Mom, it’s time,” you counter. Your hand gets pulled away from your face, and he holds it loosely before starting the steps in the process to cool you down. His thumbs drive into your palm, a hand massage starting, and your small smile up to him receives a kiss on the lips.

“Thank you,” you mouth, and he nods. God forbid your mom starts cooing at Aaron to say something.

A third sigh. At this point, you’re going to hear them in your sleep. “Mom…” you warn, but again, you’re cut off.

“I just worry that you’re… settling for something less than.”

That gets your attention. That really gets your attention, and you sit up quickly, pulling the phone from Aaron’s hearing radius, even dropping the volume so that her sharp sighs can’t be keyed in on. For a moment, you’re praying she’s still talking about the venue, or maybe has switched to focus on the floral arrangements.

“Mom. It’s my wedding. Don’t you think it should be how I want it? And this is how I want it. You realize that, right?” You’re almost daring her to continue, but she does. She really, really does.

“I just feel like that man is keeping you from… I don’t know… reaching your full potential.”

When you take a breath in, it’s so that your full force, your whole being, can be pushed into one word. “Why?” It’s so sharp that Aaron is no longer reclining, simply watching, and his hand moves to rest on your back.

The response is shaky. “I’m – I’m sorry?” Playing dumb, of course, and you shoot to your feet. Your pacing is one of your biggest traits – you basically run track marks into the carpet at your office on campus.

“Well, since you’re so worried about my potential,” you snarl, “what exactly do you think I have yet to accomplish?”

Her laughter is light, tinkling like wind chimes. It grates. “Dear, I simply meant that it seems like you’re settling,”

“And I asked you why, Mom?”

Perhaps it’s the anger that hasn’t faded in your voice that warns her. The sound of your breath coming through your teeth as you hiss. The tightness of your voice as your jaw clenches. “Darling, I –“

“No, Mom. Listen. If this is the conversation we’re having, this is the conversation we’re having,” you say, airily, waving your hand, gesturing around the living room. “Let’s see what exactly I have accomplished, and you tell me what exactly I’m missing on my resume.”

Your fingers start ticking off. “In high school. Honors student, valedictorian. Played clarinet for ten years, because you wanted me to have an instrument to play and God knows I never wanted to disappoint you. We’ll count that as two.”

“Hey,” Aaron murmurs. He’s standing now, too, reaching for your hand to pull down the two fingers, but you pull away from him, turn and go the other way as you continue to walk around the room. “Sweetheart.”

“College, now. Got a full ride, thanks to my SATs. So, three. Four, honor roll. Five, summa cum laude graduate from the top school in my state. Got a 524 on my MCAT, and made it all the way to the University of Virginia, so we’ll combine those for six, where I proceeded to graduate at the top of my damn class. Seven, I’m a fucking doctor, now, Mom, did you realize?”

Maybe Aaron says your name. You can’t hear him. You’re on a roll.

“I’m a practicing doctor now. I have my damn M.D., and I specialized in gynecology and obstetrics, and now I’m here. With the love of my life, and you dare to fucking tell me that I’m settling.”  

You’re met with silence. It’s empty, and hollow, and you don’t even realize that you’ve started crying until you feel a drop fall onto your hand, now outstretched. You’ve stopped counting, because you suppose counting isn’t the point. It was never the point.

“So where? Where did I fail you? Huh?”

There’s still no response. You pull your phone back, to look, but the numbers are still counting. The line is active. She’s there.

You push on. “This wedding, this relationship, it’s mine, do you hear me? Marrying Aaron? That is my choice! My decision to make, not yours! Not anyone else’s! Mine.”

You take another breath in. It’s shaky, and to stop yourself from sobbing you turn to Aaron, who has come so close to you. He’s touching you, hands moving up and down your shoulders, and your outstretched hand reaches to grip his shirt. A polo you can cling to.

“My full potential? He helps me meet it, Mom. He’s helped me surpass it. So. Tell me, again, why the hell would you ever say something like that?”

Aaron’s there. That’s what matters. He’s there, and pulls you close, and you sink again, like always, into his touch. It’s gentle where it needs to be, firm where it can be, and you let it soothe you, let him carry you just a little bit.

Another breath. In and out.

“I want you at my wedding, Mom. But it is my wedding,” you whisper. It’s so quiet, you’re sure Aaron only feels it as vibrations against his chest. It must sound muffled, to your mother, but in that moment you don’t care. “I want you there. If only to see how happy I really am.”

For a moment, you need to collect yourself. Aaron holds you, and holds you tight, and his sturdiness is the only thing keeping you upright, the only reason that you haven’t fallen to your knees.

You swallow, take a couple of deep breaths. When you look up, it’s into his eyes, deep, brown, and endless, brimming with concern and pride and something like guilt. That can be addressed, that can be rectified later, when your words are for him alone. But right now, you just keep his gaze, and reach for his hand. Grip it so tight he can’t help but squeeze back.

“I want you there. But if you ever say anything like that ever again…”

You don’t finish the threat. If only because Aaron shakes his head. He murmurs to you, thumb running over yours, and when you hear it you can only nod shakily.

“Don’t say something you can’t take back.”

Wise words.

God, you love him. You really, really do.

“I have to go, Mom. I’m on call.” That’s what you settle on, and you don’t wait to hear her goodbye before you press the big red button.

“Are you on call?” Aaron asks you, but he knows the answer. Knows it as soon as you look up at him and crumple, face buried into his shoulder, at the crook of his neck. 

Not tonight. Oh, thank god, not tonight. 

You fall into him and you cry, and you cry, and you cry, and, like he will soon promise to always do, he holds you.

The two of you move back to the couch. Once again, your head is pillowed in his lap, and he starts the process. One hand in his, this thumbs pressing into your palm, rubbing and massaging until he deems the tension is gone. Again, on the other side. 

His hands move, then, to your head. He slowly works his way around your scalp, catching hair with his fingers. There’s pressure at your temples, and then again, between your brows. He smoothes down the furrow that’s there, leans down to kiss the spot before pressing another kiss to your lips. 

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers. Over and over again, brings up to sit with him. Presses the words into your skin. His breath hot like a brand. 

And that night, that’s what you feel. Not the frustration, the pain, the horror at your mother’s words. All you feel is Aaron Hotchner.