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violetsoju · 3 years

Text

airport

kuroo tetsurou · fluff · 2.2k

warning: slight suggestive theme, mild language, characters are aged-up

a/n: did i write this on impulse because i still can’t believe i was actually in this situation? maybe. did i write this as a manifestation of having a kuroo to bitch about and assure me? maybe too. did i get more encouraged to write this after reading a discussion in a server on bra sizes and brand recommendations a few days ago? maybe three.

“Kuroo, I’m serious. Stop laughing.”

A distinct cackling laughter from the speaker of your phone fills the four walls of your bathroom, along with a lazy lopsided grin flashing on the screen that’s perched on the wall mounted shelf next to the sink.

“But you’re making it so hard not to! Plus, you’re supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes, not talk and brush your teeth at the same time for two minutes.” Kuroo reasons, laughter turning into soft chuckles.

“Sorry babe, but I didn’t catch anything you said just now because you sounded like a fish blubbing underwater, except you’re blubbing white foam instead of bubbles.”

He finds it hard not to grin like a fool at your figure from his side of the screen, hands on your hips with a toothbrush stuffed in your puffed-up cheeks, hair pushed back with an elmo headband that he finds ugly yet cute because of the two ridiculously huge eyes dangling on top.

You mumble something yet inaudible while wiping away the drool of toothpaste dripping down the side of your mouth, a small pout dotting your lips.

“Rinse up and tell me from the top again once you’re done, alright?” Kuroo sighs, shaking his head adoringly as he manages to make out a ‘fine’ out of the string of muffled sounds from you.

And do you listen to him completely? Of course not. So he rests his left cheek on his palms, humming to the bits of information you try to squeeze in without accidentally swallowing tap water while cleansing your face.

The white tiles in the background shift to cream walls shakily, along with the shuffling sounds of room slippers against the wooden flooring. “Then as we were walking towards the karaoke place, I somehow fell behind the rest and ended up beside him. And guess what happened?”

“He confessed to you?” He jokes, oblivious to where this is heading, yet.

“God, I’d rather that happen.” You take a seat in front of your study desk filled with skincare products tucked on the side, placing your phone against the wall. “Instead, he called out to me, which I turn to him and find him looking at my boobs, saying ‘oh, its nothing’,”

Kuroo visibly flinches a little, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, eyes widening slightly, like he just tasted a sip of milk that has gone bad. “Excuse me?”

“He was looking at my boobs, Kuroo. My boobs. Shamelessly. Saying ‘oh, its nothing’. What the heck?” You mentally thank yourself for not opening the cover of the toner in your hand, to save the mess you would have made from all the expressive hand gestures.

“And you were wearing your usual tank top, right?” He smacks his lips together, as if trying to get rid of the bad aftertaste.

“Yeah, the usual square neck rib knit tank top that I always wear.” He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your wardrobe of tops flashing through his head. “The one that you don’t understand why I own a several pieces in different colours. That one.” A long ‘oh’ resonates through the speakers, the particular top emerging from the sea of clothing.

Kuroo processes the image for a few seconds. “That’s not revealing at all.”

“Exactly! It’s like the most basic thing? There’s tons of girls out there who wear the similar thing as me too.” You tap your toner onto your face with your hands. “And I was even wearing a jacket on top of it? It’s not like I was fully exposed or something. But even if I didn’t have my jacket on, I don’t see how it’s taken as a sign to stare brazenly like that. I wear whatever the heck I want to make myself feel and look good, not for someone else to ogle at, unable to keep their raging hormones in check.”

He hums in agreement. “What did you do or say to him then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what made me so pissed at that moment either.” You sigh, reaching out for your wash-off mugwort mask. “I snapped at him, telling him that when he talks to girls, he should be looking at them in the eye, not at their boobs.”

“That’s my girl.” Kuroo flashes his signature cheshire-grin. “What did he say then?”

Your lips purse together, recalling the situation. “I don’t think he even heard me. Partly because you know how I rush through words like I’m rapping when I’m mad.”

“Told you to apply for that rap competition show on tv.”

“Kuroo.” Your glare earns an apology and light-hearted chuckles. “Another reason why I don’t think he heard me was because he actually had the balls to sit next to me during the karaoke session.” His eyebrows arch at the statement. “To which I dragged Mizuki to sit next to me and he got pushed to the side with the other guys.”

He huffs through his nose with a tinge of frustration, fingers running through his dishevelled hair. “How old is he again?”

“20, I think. But still, that’s no excuse for being so disrespectful towards girls and women. He’s already a full-grown adult for crying out loud.” You set the timer to 15 minutes on your phone, shuffling to your bed. “Out of all the boys I’ve met that are of his age or back when we were his age, I’ve never met such a disrespectful guy. In this area of discussion, I mean.”

“You mean you haven’t met such a horny monkey before.” Kuroo summarises. You snort at his remark, making yourself comfortable under the covers while waiting for the mask to work its magic.

“So you’re mad that he looked at your boobs.”

You place your phone between your folded knees, slouching against the bed frame. “Of course I am. It’s a violation against my body. How the fuck does he think he’s entitled to look at someone blatantly like that? Imagine someone staring at your dick like its nothing.”

The stupid cocky smirk appears on screen again. “Not gonna lie, but I would be proud. Or amused.”

“Freak.” You scoff, scrunching your nose at his reply.

His amber eyes gleam under the dim lights through the screen. “You sure you’re not mad at anything else?” He prods, not letting you off the hook.

“I guess I’m so mad because I never expected this to happen to me. I mean, look at me. What’s there to look at when I’m basically as flat as an airport?” You gesture to your breasts, ignoring his ‘you’re exaggerating’ interjection. “I would understand if he was staring at someone voluptuous or well-blossomed. But what’s the point of staring at a wall so flat there’s no cracks or dents in between?”

Kuroo’s sharp yet soft features settle into a knowing look. “So there is something else that you’re mad at.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That is?”

“You’re upset that your boobs are small.”

Your eyes take a 360-degree turn, huffing exasperatedly. “I’m not. I’m happy with the way they are.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

His firm discerning expression in the 10-second-long stare off has you heaving a long sigh in defeat. “I mean, there are times which I wish they would be just a little bigger…” You hesitantly admit, biting the inside of your lips. “So I don’t have to rely on push-up bras that much. And they would look nicer in wireless bras… Or in deep v neck cuts… Or plunge dresses…”

“Babe, they’re perfect with the way they are now.” Kuroo’s words doesn’t come out as pity or consolation; it’s filled with raw honesty and sincerity.

You glance down at the soft flesh beneath your oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Kuroo. “I know, but sometimes you can’t help but want more, right?”

“I understand, it’s natural.” He nods in acknowledgment. “But we have to be grateful with what we have, don’t we?”

A soft smile tugs the corner of his lips at the sight of your pout. “You’re right. Why did I get myself so worked up just because of one horny monkey when I have such an amazing and supportive boyfriend?” His lips curl up with a little more pride at you remembering and reusing his little remark.

“At your service, always. And ever ready to chase off any horny monkeys in sight.” He places his hands to his eyebrows as a salute dramatically, earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Question time. On the bright side, don’t you save more on bras because they require lesser fabric than bigger sizes? Less fabric, less production cost?”

“If only it were like that, Kuroo. You know what, we’re going bra shopping for our next date.”

“May I be granted the honour of choosing the fine piece of garment?” He places his hand over his right chest.

You hold onto your imaginary ruffled dress in the air, dropping into a mid-curtsy. “If I have the honourable chance to be blessed by your gracious kindness to pay for it, be my guest.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He bows curtly, giving you a flirtatious wink.

You giggle at his sappiness. “Okay my turn. Aren’t you jealous that you don’t have the chance to hold them like other boyfriends do for their busty girlfriends when their boobs swell and get sore during their periods?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s not like that’s the only time I get to touch them.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Pervert.” You gasp, covering your breasts with your arms.

The timer on your phone beeps, signaling it’s time for you to wash off your mask.

“Didn’t take you to be a boob person. Thought you were more of a butt person.” You place your phone back on the wall mounted shelf in the bathroom, turning on the tap water to run.

“I’m neither. Because I’m a you person, your person. A person that loves you as a whole, not by parts.” You swear you can see him giving you that smug grin of his with your face submerged with water, washing off the remaining residue.

“You know, maybe God deliberately blessed you with a lesser amount in this aspect.” His voice echoes through the speakers.

You reach out to your face towel hanging next to the sink and place gentle pats on your face. “And why is that?”

“Because God knew that you’d be unstoppable if you were blessed in all aspects. I mean, look at you. You’re already slaying it despite your fun-sized boobs.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva from the fits of laughter at his comment. “What the hell, Kuroo. No one calls a C cup and below fun-sized.”

“If people call those below the height of 160cm fun-sized, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with breast sizes.” He reasons with a nonchalant face.

“Fine, fun-sized boobs they are.” You give in, switching off the bathroom lights. “Your drop-dead gorgeous kick-ass girlfriend has fun-sized boobs.”

“And I love it. That’s what makes her special too.” He adds, face full-on smitten with love.

“Shut up, cheesy conman.” You chuckle softly, your face a mirror image of his.

“Well, you chose one yourself. No refunds.” The coolness of your moisturizer helps soothe the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, but not the warmth spreading throughout your chest like a cosy fireplace on a cold winter day.

【☾】

Zero and one digits flash on the top right of the screen, signalling it’s way past your bedtime. You’ve been on the phone with Kuroo for close to two hours, no wonder you feel yourself drifting to sleep each second. Kuroo senses it too, from the way your eyes twitch and lose focus.

“Alright, last question before we wrap up for today. When are you hanging out with them again?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

You let out a yawn as well, stretching your arm over your head, popping a few bones. “I don’t know, but I may skip if he’s tagging along.”

“Nope, we’re going together. Me and you.” Kuroo states matter-of-factly with droopy eyes.

You rub your eyes that has been lidded with sleep. “What if you’re busy on that day like today?”

“Then I’ll just clear my schedule for the day. Gotta show the lil boy who owns this airport.” His deep voice croaking through the speakers of your phone.

“Airport?” You question, confused at his statement, wondering if sleep has started to take over your sense of hearing.

“Airport.” He gestures at his tiddies sleepily.

“Kuroo…” Your distressed groan doesn’t stop him from his babble.

“Gotta show to him that it’s a private one too, not some public area that’s available to any common folk like him. Right, babe?”

a/n: in Chinese, there’s a saying of calling flat chested girls or girls with small boobs as 飞机场, which means airport because the airport runway is flat. so it’s like one’s chest is so flat that it can run the plane lmao. all sizes are precious, don’t get me wrong. this is purely for entertainment purposes

shoutout to @moonboohoo for being my irl Mizuki that day ily ❤️

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #hq imagines #dont worry guys im not bothered by the incident anymore #i just thought it would be funny to write about #small tiddy gang unite #and i finally have a piece thats not over 3k words omg #mini achievement unlocked 🔓

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missallsundayyy · 3 years

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Breaking Boundaries

First oneshot for my first post here and there’s no better ship/pair i’d rather write than Nico Robin & Roronoa Zoro

Things were lively on the Sunny Go as usual. Franky was upgrading the canons on the ship, Chopper and Ussop were being...well...being them as usual. Luffy was bugging Sanji in the kitchen asking/whining when was lunch going to be served and in his words.

"foooooooood SANJIIIIIIIIIIIII!!" the famous straw hat captain yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

"SHUT UP YOU RUBBER GLUTTON"

Nami was focusing on the weather and the sea behavior, navigating the crew to their next destination whilst Brook was beside her asking if he could see her panties in which he received a punch that sent him flying through the ship's walls. Thus starting a fight with the shipswright that was just beside the wall that was destroyed.

"WATCH WHERE YOU LAND ASSHOLE!!!" Franky screamed out.

"Yohoho!! don't get your panties in a twist Franky-sannn"

Aside from all the chaos was the crew's infamous swordsman, Zoro whom was doing impossible training once again. Lifting weights that no humans could ever lift.

"890...891...892.."

He grunts out in training, muscles flexing, his body coated with sweat. He did this everyday at the same spot the moment the sun starts to rise until Sanji calls them for lunch. Not far from the green-haired man.....well in fact maybe 5metres away from him was the ship's beautiful archeologist Nico Robin. Seated as usual on her umbrella armchair with a book on hand.

She was wearing her spaghetti strap purple tank top that did no effort to cover her large breast and a very small tight fitting jean shorts. It was a very hot day at that, she had put her hair up in a ponytail which was rare because usually she prefered her hair down. Even though it was scorching hot outside and she could just retreat into her room where it would definitely be cooler but it was out of habit that she situated herself here when she read.

She’s elated to be where she was right now. Doing what she loved and surrounded by nakamas that accepted her, cared for her, protected her and loved her. She would give her life 100 million times over for the Straw Hats without a second thought. Back at Enies Lobby she was afraid that that they would find her a burden, a thorn in the flesh even when they proved that they will fight the whole world fearlessly for her. Comparing then and now she was flabbergasted at how many things have changed. Everyone has gotten stronger, more matured. The bond Robin shared with the crew was strong that not even God can sever it, that she was certain for.

Her mind wandered everywhere and anywhere, she wasn't even focusing on the book she was reading anymore. She summarised everything in her head with a content look on her face.

The sounds of Zoro's grunting and counting snapped Robin back to reality, her eyes diverted to the green haired crew member. Her eyes shamelessly stared at his god like body that was now glistening in sweat due to the monstrous work out he does everyday. His muscles was amazing, his abs was rock hard and his chest looked like steel plates had been implanted in him. His face was fierce and focus, never losing concentration.

Zoro was a very very veryyy handsome man, that was what Robin had always thought even when she first joined the crew. She knew he was a very powerful man and a dangerous one at that, the crew was blessed to have such interesting and indestructible members and Roronoa Zoro was one of them. He had many cons to him...well according to Nami and Sanji's list. He sleeps too much, he was too direct with his words so more often than not he always comes off as an "asshole". He drinks too much when he isn't sleeping or training and to top the icing on the cake, he couldn't find his way to the ship's toilet even if his bladder depended on it.

Robin however found him to be interesting as hell and even charming most times. How he was always the calm one amongst all of them and he was a very wise man that stick by his words. He was a strong man with honour and pride. He will no doubt be the type to keep a promise even if will be his demise. Robin didn't know she had a type until she met Zoro, the more time she has with the swordsman the larger her attraction for him grew.

Having a lover has never came across her mind, not that she wasn't interested in intimate relations before, it just never came up until she found herself glancing at him more than she should. Also the automatic position of their area happened to be beside each other every day so there was not much of a choice in that matter. She snapped back yet again to reality still staring at the handsome swordsman, she wouldn't admit it but internally she was swooning over his very very shredded body.

"Oi oi Robin, your staring is bothering me. You should read at your room today, your face is red from the weather right now." Zoro called out to Robin who was unintentionally caught gawking at him although being the dense man he was, he of course would have not though that she was checking him out.

Zoro had placed all this training equipments down and was now walking towards the self fantasising historian that still had her eyes glued onto him. He walked a few steps towards Robin and stood beside her, taking her lemonade drink right from her side table and gulping all of it down with greed-thirst sounds. This was another normal thing between them, she would have her drink but she would never drink any of it because before she could, he would always finish it up unless she had coffee. He never did understood how she could swallow the damn bitter beverage. She also was starting to think that subconsciously she would bring the drink for him instead of her.

"Zoro-kun. Sorry for bothering your training but I don't mind a little heat today and besides the weather has been quite gloomy these past weeks, don't you agree?" Robin held her face with her palm, her usual signature posture. She now sat upright never breaking her stare.

"Rain or shine won't hinder me from my training." Zoro stated simply.

"Fufufu, yet my staring has disturbed your workout?" Robin teased him.

"Tch. You've been doing that a lot lately woman." he turned his head away, folding his arms. Ever since the crew reunited after being seperated for two years, Zoro had noticed Robin's change the most. She had gotten stronger, wiser and more matured in many different aspects.

She would tease him or outsmart him in their little chats which irate the man but in a good way.

"I was thinking if I could company you on watch today if you don't mind." Robin asked hopefully.

Zoro turned his head back to her "Sure. You can do can do whatever you want woman. Let's go to the kitchen already, bet that love cook will start yelling for us anytime soon." he was already walking towards the kitchen but in a pace that told her that he would be walking with her and not just leaving her like that. She smiled and followed him.

"ROBIN CHWANNN! You're looking veryyyyy SEXYYY TODAY!! The lunch I have prepared for you today is just as hot and spicy as you are!!!" Sanji greeted Robin that had walked in with Zoro whom by the way Sanji had not scoop his share onto a plate yet. Robin smiled at the flirtatious cook.

"That's very kind of you cook-san, this looks delicious. As always your culinary skills are impressive." Robin replied politely, frankly only Robin would acknowledge Sanji's aggressively manic compliments.

"Tch. Stupid love cook." Zoro muttered under his breath which didn't went unheard by the cook of course.

"What??? YOU WANNA GO ASSHOLE?"

"I WON'T WASTE MY TIME WITH THE LIKES OF YOU"

"YOU'RE JUST JEALOUS THAT ROBIN IS COMPLIMENTING ME INSTEAD OF YOU"

"WHY WOULD I BE JEALOUS OF YOU, YOU'RE A BIGGER CLOWN THAN THAT RED NOSE BUGGY"

The fight between the two men continued while the crew watched on amused, nothing new on the ship.

"HEY LUFFY THAT'S MY FRUIT PUNCH DON'T DRINK IT"

"Cmmonnnnnn Chopper give me some, I'm lazy to go refill..."

Chopper and Luffy both had their hands on the cup that was filled with the cool drink and they both were playing tug rope with the cup and well unfortunately for them the cup had tipped and all of its contents is now spilling at the person that was sitting in the middle of them. That person was......Robin.

*SPLASH*

The room was now silent, Sanji and Zoro's bickering was on hold because of the light spill sound that interrupted everyone.

"Oh shit.." Franky muttered

The red beverage was now seeping through Robin's tank top. Her chest and thighs was now covered with the sweet drink and it was dripping. Robin looked down at her now soiled clothing.

"Oh my.." was all she said.

"Robinnn....im sorry!! I didn't..we didn't mean to ruin your clothes!!" Chopper started exclaiming, feeling guilty. "OI LUFFY! This is your fault you know!! APOLOGISE TO ROBIN NOW!"

Luffy had one hand behind his head, scratching while having a goofy grin "Sorry Robin it was an accident...please don't be mad"

"SERIOUSLY. Why can't the men in this crew behave like proper men in FOR ONCE! You guys are barbaric and I don't know how two beautiful women like me and and Robin got stuck with you guys!!" This time the screaming and yelling was now coming from the ship's navigator.

Robin wasn't mad, in fact she enjoyed all their shenanigans. The crew made life fun, they make her feel alive and everyday she will always have a smile on her face. "It's okay Luffy its okay Chopper. I will go and change into a new shirt." she said with a laughter.

"Well there you go Nami, you heard Robin. She's not mad so I don't see why you're all worked up." Franky joined in to which he received a death glare from the money obsessed pirate.

In the midst of the whole conversation Zoro had been staring at Robin's wet stained shirt accident. Everyone was too busy bickering with each other they had failed to notice that the water just made Robin's voluptuous figure even more prominent. The outline of her huge breast could be seen through the god damn tank top and the fruit punch was still dripping down her cleavage and most of it had splashed onto her thick thighs.

He didn't know what he was doing but he liked what he was seeing. Robin was a beautiful woman and he knew that. She had the perfect curves and her assets were anything but small. She had matured into a sexy woman and he could never deny that. The sight that she had unintentionally presented him with was very fucking pleasing to his eyes. His eyes glued to her soft skin and the way the water would drip down her cleavage because she was laughing and causing her chest to move tentalizingly. He knew she wasn't doing it on purpose but she was sexy without even trying. He shook his head and tried to clear the dirty thoughts that was now forming in his mind 'Why the hell am I thinking about her like that' his mind yelled at him.

"Well excuse me, I am going to take a bath since the punch has made my body all sticky now." Robin stood up and walked towards the door. Sanji on the other hand had knock both Luffy and Chopper's head while yelling something like 'Look what you guys did!' 'Robin-chan's lunch is ruined' 'assholes'

-BOOOOOOOOOMMM-

A loud crash was heard 1 minute after Robin had exited the kitchen. Zoro and Sanji both had dashed out of the door in a fighting stance-run.

"Whats' going on now!!" Nami yelled.

"Looks like Luffy fell asleep" Franky muttered in half disbelief and half lazed tone.

"ROBIN CHANNN!! ARE YOU OKAY?" Sanji yelled frantically.

Zoro had drawn his katana out ready to slice anyone whom had dared to attack their ship and more importantly Robin.

"So this is the infamous Strawhat crew everyone has been talking about?? You don't seem much if i managed to cuff your deliciously beautiful crewmate here. If i know you guys had such a sexy pirate lady, we would have attacked you sooner!" The malicious voice came from Captain Deck from the Sink Pirates; notorious for sinking every ship they come across with. He was however not interested in woman and was quick to carry Robin and throwing her off the Sunny Go to everyone's horror.

"ROBIN NNNN!!" Chopper and Nami's voiced chorus together,

"ROBIN -CHWANNNN! YOU SHITTY BASTARD HOW DARE YOU TOUCH THE LADIES OF THIS SHIP I WILL POUND YOU UNTIL YOUR INSIDES COME OUT ASSHOLE!!" Sanji shouted with fire engulfing his whole body.

Zoro of course had already jumped in right after Robin was thrown into the sea. His first priority was definitely saving his nakama. Slicing every last one of his enemy would later be the second priority. He dived deep and because he immediately jump in right when Robin was thrown in, she hadn't sink too far for his vision. She was still conscious, eyes wide with shocked with everything that has transpired. He could understand her fear, you can be the strongest fighter with the best abilities but its all over if you get thrown into the water. Her hands was desperately reaching for Zoro. She knew she was safe, drowning in the sea or not, she had her nakama protecting her and always having her back.

He grabbed Robin's hand and pulled her into his body and quickly swam back up in full speed. When they reached the surface, he found himself swimming to an island, the Sunny Go and his crewmates were no where in sight. Now he was just confused, how the hell did he got all the way here now. He now carried Robin bridal style whilst walking on shore since she was weakened by the effects of the sea water.

He lay her down on the grass part of the island and stood up to survey their foreign surroundings.

"Oi woman you okay?" he asked her with concern although he wasn't facing her. Robin who now had herself up on her feet.

"Thank you Zoro-kun, i'm better now." Robin said smiling even if he wasn't looking to see it. "However, seems like we're stranded in here. How did you find this island?" she was already walking around surveying the flowers, sand, grass and anything that might tell her where they were. He scratched the back of his head, "I don't know how we end up here, my priority was only getting you out of the sea and next thing i know, i got us here." he said with a tone of frustration.

'ara...so this is how he looks like whenever we get seperated' Robin's amusing thoughts caused her to laugh behind him. He snapped his head to her "What's so funny woman" to which Robin smile "Nothing. Lets explore this island together, i'm sure Luffy and the others are already nearby." she suggested to which Zoro just grunted in agreement.

The both of them then ventured into the thick jungle of the island.

Meanwhile back at the Sunny Go.

"Geez you can definitely count on Zoro to be lost even when the ship was right above him." Franky grumbled while the crew set sailed for the island Ussop had spotted.

"That shitty asshole took Robin-chwann away! IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME THAT SAVED HER AND WOULD PROBABLY BE ON THAT ISLAND WITH A VERY WET RO-" Sanji fainted from nose-bleed before he could finish his sentence.

"SANJIIIIII!!!" Chopper ran towards his perverted nakama.

"Leave him to die Chopper, he propably don't mind dying" Nami said while shaking her head.

"YOSH! FULL SPEED AHEAD TO THAT MEAT ISLAND MEN!" Luffy yelled to his crewmates.

"Oi oi what do you mean meat island" Ussop replied, "And we can leave stupidity to our captain. Zoro and Robin are missing and there he goes thinking about food" he finished leaving Nami and Chopper nodding their heads vigorously. Luffy laughed "Don't worry! They're strong and i'm not worried."

-BACK TO THE UNKNOWN ISLAND-

"Perhaps the plants here spit poison that could kill you in a second or maybe the soil might swallow you whole the moment you step on it." Robin said voicing her thoughts outloud.

"Oi Robin stop saying things like that." Zoro chastised the historian for always saying dark things.

"Fufufu sorry Zoro-kun." Robin giggled into her palm.

"By the way......” he started “Robin,i'mgladyou'refineafter2years."

Zoro managed to choke all the words out as fast as he could. He was not one with sweet words but he somehow felt that before the seperation he was very cold with Robin out of all the members of the crew.

It had to do with the whole ‘Miss All Sunday’ business but now when he looked at her, it was as if everything in the past didn't matter anymore.Robin on the other hand was taken aback by his words, she would be lucky to get a grunt out of the swordsman but he was initiating a conversation first and to top that off, he was telling her how he was glad that SHE was okay.

"I'm happy to hear that. You've grown handsomely in two years Zoro-kun" She replied him with a genuine smile. His face instantly reddened from embarasssment. There she goes again, he thought. Always saying things like that and now he looks like a cat just bit his tongue.

"W..we..well you'vegrownbigtoO!"

Robin laughed aloud "Are you saying that i’m fat Zoro-kun?" she stopped abruptly nearly making him crash behind her.

"What!" he panicked. Now these are one of her antics to get him all flustered.

"You said i've grown big, so does that mean I’m fat to you Zoro-kun?" She asked him with an innocent smile, teasing him was her favourite things to do.

"You know what I mean woman." Zoro grunted frustratedly, face still heated up. She? Fat? Farrr from it he thought. Her figure was amazing, perfect if he may be so bold to say.

"So after 2years of not seeing me, thaaat....is the only thing you noticed? I think cook-san has influenced you abit." This has got to definitely get THE reaction Robin was waiting for.

“IM NOTHING LIKE THAT SHITTY BASTARD OF A COOK AND YOU KNOW IT WOMAN!!" Robin laughed at his predictable reaction. "I'm joking Mr Swordsman." And there the nicknames comes again, this woman knew how to push his buttons well.

Then Robin did the unthinkable, she put her hands on her waist and came closer to Zoro and with a low sultry voice with a pose that would drive Sanji into his grave from nosebleed.

"So am I big enough or is there anything else I can change....for you Zoro-kun" Robin said suggestively. She have to admit whilst she finally have people to call her nakama she needed more. She wants that intimate attention just like every woman. Intimacy wasn’t something she even had time for in the past, it never crossed her mind to romance with men. Now that she’s comfortable and know she has a place to call home, why the hell not.

Now he was just as red a beet, he didn't know why Robin was being flirty with him. She was usually the quiet one, calm, collected and only commented on things when it was necessary. Then again she was the only woman ironically that he didn’t mind invading his personal space. She and him was always in the same room in the ship every damn time and it wasn’t even planned nor did they ever agreed to always have each other’s back. He had always protected Robin, he would be there, ready to cut her enemies. Just like on sky island and fishmen island, as long as he’s around her he will put his life on the line for her

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t do the same for the crew but when he does save her, he feels something for her, he don’t know what he felt but he felt his pride and ego semi boosted from it. It was as if he wanted to impress her and show off how strong he was when she was around him. Maybe because all her life she was used to everyone betraying her or maybe she never had anyone protecting her. If she needed him to tell her that she wanted his protection, he would proudly declare that he will always protect and care for her.

Since she was graciously being so near him, his good eye clearly did not miss everything Robin had to offer. She was obviously testing the waters like this and eventhough he wasn't THAT type of man but he will be THAT if she wants it so bad. He will gladly play along with her game afterall he didn't enjoy being dominated like this.

Zoro grabbed Robin's waist roughly and pressed her figure with his hard and he brought his mouth against her ears.

"You better stop that Robin because i don’t think I can stop myself after this " Zoro growled with his grip tightening on her waist and back. That was an indefinite warning, he was ready to drop the whole ‘nakama’ thing and fuck her right there if she insisted on being a minx. Amazing that they had the whole island to themselves, amazing that his bad sense of direction got just the both of them alone, amazing that his crew wasn’t here to interrupt this moment and lastly Nico Robin was and amazing woman. His mind was flooded with thoughts of her and he thought he was going insane.

“I don’t want you to stop Zoro.” Her voice was filled with want, need, lust and when he looked into her eyes he knew that she only wanted HIM and he was the only one she trusted her body with. Right now her eyes was an open book and he could read every thoughts she had going through in her head.

Mentally he was battling a war, he shouldn’t be indulging in this but he knew he wanted this so bad he could kill someone.

“Not here Robin.” It had took all of his will power to seperate him and Robin, all that lust and need. Trust him he really wanted to take her right there and then but... “Fufufu, that’s very considerate and sweet of you.”

#Zorobin #Zoro #Robin #onepiece #strawhats #luffy #nami #chopper #brooke #sanji #smut #almostsmut #youthought #favouritepair #probswillhaveapt2 #part1 #ZoroRobin #ZoroxRobin #one piece #ootd

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

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I’m daydreaming and just imagining reader being self conscious of her body after giving birth and geralt just being fluffy and sweet and not liking her putting herself down and yeh

A/N: This makes me soft. I hope you like this babe!!

Warning: This fic does have quite a bit of mentioning of body image issues and postpartum issues many women face. I did my best to google things because I’ve never had a kid so I don’t know what postpartum is like but I hope I did somewhat decently with it.

You gazed into the mirror, admiring the way the deep red silk material of your dress hugged your chest. You brushed your hand down the material and over your stomach, frowning as your eyes settled there. The little smile that had been on your lips faded almost instantly.

You didn’t like the way the dress looked, the way the material seemed to amplify your slightly sagging stomach. Now that you were focused on it, your stomach seemed suddenly much bigger than it actually was and the thought of wearing that dress in public made you sick. You couldn’t go to Cirilla’s birthday celebration looking like that.

You turned your back to the mirror, biting back the tears as you shook your head.

You just had Bram not even two months ago, Y/N. You just need time to bounce back and everything will be okay!

No matter how many times you told yourself that, there was another voice in the back of your head that spoke up, growing louder and louder as it pointed out all of your insecurities.

The extra weight you’d put on. The way your arms jiggled when you moved them or the way a double chin formed when you looked down. The way none of your clothes fit comfortably, except for your maternity clothes.

You reached behind yourself to pull the ties on the dress, letting out a breath as the material loosened around your torso. You pushed the dress down and let the silk pool at your ankles.

The door to the room opened and you hastily moved to retrieve the throw at the foot of your bed.

Your husband stepped in, brows drawing together as he saw you move quickly, snatching the throw and using it to cover yourself.

“It’s just me, dove.”

You nodded but still kept the throw tight to you, holding it just beneath your chin.

He stood there for a moment, assessing what had just happened. Was something wrong?

“Are, um, Are you ready? Yennefer is growing rather impatient.”

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, dropping your eyes to the floor as you shook your head.

“I-I don’t feel good, Geralt. I don’t think I should go.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt took a few steps towards you but you shook your head, stepping away from him until your back bumped into the wall.

His breath caught in his throat, shoulders tensing up as he watched you carefully. Your eyes were full of too many emotions for him to decipher them all. Fear. Worry. Dread. Concern.

“Y/N.” He murmured your name.

“Just-Just go without me, okay?” You whispered, trying to force a smile on to your lips as you shook your head but the tears in your eyes swelled up and blurred your vision. “Take Bram. I-I know Eist and Calanthe would love to see him and-and Ciri adores him.”

“Please tell me what is wrong.” Geralt quietly begged. “You were so excited to go earlier today. We’ve been talking about going all week.”

“Yes, but I-I just….” You trailed off, unable to come up with a good answer, one that wasn’t necessarily the truth. You didn’t want to tell your husband that you were ashamed of your body, of the body he claimed to love so dearly.

“Cirilla would be devastated if you didn’t come.”

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head as your head fell forward. One hand clutched the throw to your chest while the other covered your face.

“I’m so sorry, Geralt.” You cried quietly. “I-I’m sorry. You deserve so, so much better.”

Wordlessly, Geralt crossed the room. You didn’t even notice this so when his hand took ahold of your wrist to pull your hand from your face, you flinched. He carefully pried your hand from your face and then hooked two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your head up.

He used the pad of his thumb to brush the tears from your damp cheeks. His liquid gold eyes were studying you, concerned, worried.

He had an idea about what it was that could be upsetting you. You were holding the throw to your body as if it was your life source. You were shielding yourself from his eyes, from your husband’s eyes. He’d seen you naked before. Hell, he witnessed you give birth to his son. There could only be one reason why you were suddenly hiding your body from him.

“Please tell me why you think that I deserve better?” He whispered, warm breath fanning over your face.

“I-I’m the size of a fucking cow, Geralt.” You dropped your gaze to focus on the wolf pendant. “My stomach is all wrinkly and there are stretchmarks all over me. I-I look disgusting.”

“Y/N.” He said your name with a scolding tone, though he was gentle. “You are not disgusting. You are the woman I love.”

“The woman you love died when she had a child.” You muttered.

Geralt took your chin in his hold once more and tilted your head up.

“The woman I love brought my son into this world.” He kissed your forehead. “I love you, Y/N. How you look doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice, pushing against his chest but you would’ve had better luck pushing a brick wall. “You fell in love with me, why? Because-Because of my charming personality? Fuck that, Geralt! My personality is absolute shit!”

You were just angry with yourself. He didn’t deserve your outburst and you knew this.

“I fell in love with you, Y/N. With the stupid jokes you tell me and the way you smile when you see a cow in a field or a children chasing each other. I fell in love with how you treated me when we first met. I wasn’t a witcher to you. You didn’t treat me like some stupid mutant. You are kind and generous and I can’t imagine myself with another.” He shook his head.

“But all of that, all of you falling in love with me…. There’s a sexual aspect to it too.” You told him, adamant on getting him to admit that you were hideous. You wanted the truth. You didn’t want him to lie to you to make you feel better. “You liked me, my body, what I had to offer in that sense.”

He sighed heavily through his nose.

“When I fell in love with you, Y/N, I fell in love with all of you. This body, your body, made my son, and this body feeds him. Now is no different than before. If anything, I actually enjoy this.” He brought his hands up to your shoulders.

“You enjoy me looking like a cow?”

“Stop saying that.” He softly demanded, shaking his head. “No, my love. You are warm and comforting and so fucking sexy. This is bigger.” His hands trailed to your backside, squeezing you firmly. “And so are other things.”

His eyes shamelessly looked down at your chest, which was poorly covered with the throw.

“I enjoy every part of you, dove, and I am in love with you. With your thighs and how warm they are in my hands. With your stomach and how soft it is when I lay my head upon it, and how you carried my son for nine long months inside of you. Nothing could ever change my love for you, Y/N.”

You almost believed him, but then that voice continued to tell you that he was lying. You shook your head, eyes falling to the floor again.

He put his hand on the throw and tried to pull it away from you but you held it firmly.

“Dove. Let me.” He murmured.

You hesitated, still holding the throw with white knuckles. You finally let it go and held your breath, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

You expected a gasp or some noise of repulsion. You expected him to flee even.

But instead, he pulled you in for a hug, large arms wrapping around you and drawing you into his chest.

“You are the most beautiful being I’ve ever seen in all my years.” He breathed into your hair.

The breath you had held left your lips and cries shook your shoulders. You melted into his touch, burying your face in his chest.

“You are strong, Y/N. You carried Bram for nine months, and it wasn’t easy. I know it wasn’t. Watching you struggle with the aches and pains and with the loss of balance and the sickness…. I love you.”

“But I’m-I’m covered in stretchmarks. My stomach, it’s-it’s-,”

“It is beautiful, just like you. They make you who you are now. You’re a mother, Y/N.” Geralt pulled away to look down at you, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. “And the best one I’ve ever seen.”

You looked down at your stomach for a moment.

“You don’t…. You don’t think it’s gross?”

He gave you a little smile before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“No, my sweet dove. I don’t think it’s gross. And neither should you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“If you truly don’t want to go, then I can take Jaskier and Bram with me.” Geralt rubbed your back with one large hand. “You can stay here and get a bath, maybe catch up on some much needed sleep. Do you want to go?”

“I do.” You nodded. “It’d be lovely to see Calanthe and Eist.”

“Then let’s get you dressed.” Geralt kissed you softly and then picked up your dress that you had discarded on the floor.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @MishaFaye @whitewolfandthefox @ayamenimthiriel @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @romancebibliophilia @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @crazybutconfidentaf @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @thefirelordm @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @badassspaceprincess @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @swimswimsubadivehelp @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster @rubyqueen819

#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt #the white wolf #white wolf #geralt fluff #kacey answers #geralt request

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whatsyourcolor · 3 years

Text

Dragnet - Chapter 9 - Kingdom of Thieves.

Read on Ao3

Thank you to those of you that are still reading Dragnet! In previous chapters Kogami and Akane conducted a mission that resulted in technology malfunctioning, suspicions arising and Akane almost getting killed. Kogami broke up their short-lived (or so he thinks) association for reasons and emotions still confusing to him. Here’s Chapter 9:

KINGDOM OF THIEVES

Pliable, suspiciously warm, the sofa's leather cushions in the analysis lab sank underneath Kogami's weight, comfort suffusing his tense limbs like an anxiolytic. Undoubtedly, Kunizuka had made a routine pitstop here prior to heading to the interrogation room with Ginoza for another round of fruitless grilling. Which would explain the mellow, secret melody Shion was humming as she typed away on her keyboard. At least someone in Division 1 was having fun. Banished from the interrogation room and having severed the only connection he had to that other world, lulls of silent anticipation such as this had become nearly intolerable for him because, like a stray dog, his mind would go—insistently, shamelessly—back to her.

If only his ruminations had been centered in the pragmatic aspects of their relationship (what was her exact link to the syndicates? When did it start? And why?), he could have forgiven himself more easily. But it was the way his name sprung from her direct mouth, and how it meant she was not cross with him (as opposed to Inspector), and that furrowed brow each time she sermonized about things not unlike those he’d spend hours perusing in books—things he had strictly forbidden himself to linger on; things he’d never dream to speak about out loud. It was her scrutiny, never sub rosa. Not when she looked at him with unabashed eyes, not searching for a weakness or a fault—he suspected—but for something like a virtue, something that would warrant their unlikely partnership in her eyes.

So what did it mean for him to be sitting here while she was still out there, meandering in the dark? Stubbornly continuing this, insisting on this, and she would lose more than her hue. Kogami palmed the cellphone inside his pocket and then thought better of it because—what right did he have to care? To ask anything from her? Who was he in her life but an accident of chance? Or, perhaps, had his threats managed to compel her, and had she gone back to an ordinary life where she didn’t want to change the world? No, he thought sullenly. Even I know that about you. But it’s not like you’re alone either, is it, Tsunemori? Not that it makes you any safer.

On a large screen, a corner-side vantage of the dark interrogation room. Light spilled from a lamp above onto a table as a cuffed man swaggered in like a circus bear that's figured out the master's whip is made of hay. A braggart's smirk splashed across his face as he flumped on a chair. Kogami perched his elbows on his legs, interlaced hands under his nose to summon all his objective focus on the screen, but all he could think about was how much he'd love to pummel that sneer off again.

"A different species of inspector today," proclaimed the Arumajiro man, all affected bravado to Gino's bespectacled, sober professionalism. Still bearing the marks Tsunemori had gouged on his tattooed skin, he slammed his arms on the table, presumably to stir a wince from Ginoza, who only blinked with imperturbable disdain. "And you even brought a woman to protect you. That a habit of Sibyl's dogs?"

"The type of technology found in the interior of the truck you and your comrades were riding on is not something that can be built with metal scraps scavenged from Ougishima,” Gino said with no inflection in his voice. "Who is funding your association?"

The man acknowledged the question with a caustic snort for answer, a sort of growl. His eyes slithering over the less illuminated corners of the room—methodically, as if searching for something.

“He’s watching, ain’t he?” he eventually muttered. “He wouldn’t miss this.”

"You'll have enough time to look at walls when you go to the isolation facility. No need to strain your eyes so hard on these,” Gino spat back. “Answer the question. Your syndicate knew about the crackdowns by the MWPSB. How did you acquire a signal jammer? Who programmed it?"

"Inspectors in the blocks," the man began in a low voice. "You lot stick out like a pack of wild hens running around with your dominators. Of course, everyone always knows when you're there, with your holos and your drones. You’re not exactly low-key, you know? The eyes of Sibyl might see us only when they want to, but we’re always watching.”

"And so your syndicate figured they'd try to go undetected and invest on an illegal piece of technology impossible to acquire within the abolition blocks.”

"Impossible,” the man echoed as if mulling the meaning of the word. As if, Kogami thought, what a Sibyl detective would deem impossible, even preposterous in his world, was something that acquired a different value where he came from. A perverse grimace spread on the man’s face, a sort of smiling frown full of certitude. "Nothing is impossible in the abolition blocks. Not anymore.”

“Not exactly a charmer when he finally decides to talk, is he?” Shion drawled with a slow plume of smoke, her profile silhouetted by blue light in the haze. “What could he possibly mean?”

"At least he's taunting us now,” Kogami murmured dryly. “But I don’t perceive urgency in his behavior. No negotiation or surrender. If he’s decided to talk it must be for more than dull temporizing, though I don’t think his objective is to necessarily give us what we want.”

“Hmm. Who knows.” Shion gave an affected gasp. “Could it be he likes Ginoza better?”

Kogami chuckled softly, and Shion smiled, proud of herself. He figured he probably had been looking as dismal as he felt.

“Definitely,” he acknowledged with a cool sigh, lifting himself up from the softness of the sofa, and starting to hanker for a smoke. He shoved the flaps of his navy windbreaker aside and thrust his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Gino can be a darling when he wants to. But I should head over there now. Might as well put some pressure now he’s talking.”

“I thought Ginoza said—”

“I know. I know he instructed all of you to keep me at bay. But this case might be bigger than we think and I can’t just wait idly by.”

Shion exhaled coolly, swiveling her chair toward her station again. “Very well. Just be careful.”

Freely, brashly for an interrogation, the man went on blathering on the screen. “But impossible things have been happening. People disappearing. Tunnels hidden behind holo. Miracles, even. The last of which involved a woman intercepting a truck in the tunnels, armed with nothing but a bat—so what I’ve been wondering is, how did the excellent and competent MWPSB get a double-crossing bitch to do their job for them?”

Doors glided open in front of him as Kogami’s step came to a standstill. Jaw clenching, he whirled round to face the grainy image of the man again.

“You’d do well to remember I’m the one asking questions here,” Ginoza retorted impatiently, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t an exchange of particulars between two commensurate parties. This is an interrogation, and your time is running out.”

The man leaned in over the table and Kunizuka’s back went upright, her hand circling around her waist as a warning. “You see,” he said. “I can’t help but be intrigued as to how a single woman gained the trust of the underground resistance and helped them against the syndicates, all while working with the police.”

Kogami stiffened. Was that the reason behind Tsunemori’s ironclad secrecy? Did the man not kill her only because he was working information out of her? Even if Kogami had entertained a similar notion before—with her overt spurning of the system and her criminal consorts—something in him refused to admit that she could be, for lack of a better word, his enemy. But if what was being said was true, then the accusations he’d hurled at her—the same ones that had been tormenting him since he’d said them—may have been wholly understating.

“Justice for traitors and informers, know what that is? That wretched girl hanging from a wire in the ports of Ougishima where anyone else with funny ideas can see. Or worse—No. Better—her chained to a bed in the filth of a brothel. See that pretty hue turn black.” The man spoke slowly but without pause, in his visage a pained expression that evoked menace in lieu of sorrow. “Imagine, if you can, in a place crawling with people both desperate to cleanse their sins and itching for something unsullied to defile, just what coveted merchandise a clear-hued Sib would be. Not just any Sib, no. A plant by the MWPSB. A traitor. Hell, for all we know it might be her own people that get her first.”

With clenched fists, Kogami made his way back toward the screen. It wasn’t that the man’s tirade didn’t incense him greatly, considering to whom his poisoned darts were being aimed. But there was something else: the fact that he spoke as if he wasn’t in Sibyl’s claws. In his claws.

“That brat is too smart for her own good. Messing with things she don’t understand. Stealing things that don’t belong to her. Out of all the crummy chumps the so-called resistance has produced, this one might be the trickiest one. Should’ve snuffed her out when I had the chance.”

“This resistance,” Ginoza cleared his throat, “is it an anti-governmental group?”

The man stared superciliously, almost amused. “You Sibs think the blocks are seedbeds of chaos where the scum of society oozes like a weeping blister in your clean world. It’s not for me to deny it. I’ve seen men rip out each other’s guts over a cigarette. I’ve slain many more myself, men and women, for less than that. Why? You worried the pus might spill onto your streets? You afraid hearing these things will make you catch that disease?” A spark of relish in his eye. “What if I told you there’s a cure for that?”

“A—a cure? A cure for what?”

“The illness of evil—the illness the Sibyl system diagnosed for the rest of us. In fact, I’ll prove it to you right now,” the man invited with an almost affable tone. “Point your dominator at me.”

“What? What are you talking abou—H-Hound 2! No one ordered you to withdraw your dominator!”

Kunizuka, arm fully extended next to Ginoza’s face, had her sights aimed directly at the space between the eyebrows of the Arumajiro man. “I’m sorry, Inspector. This is the only language men like these speak.” A heavy mute second was filled with Ginoza’s eyes flitting from the dominator, to the man, back to Kunizuka until at last, haltingly, she lowered her arm and her jaw dropped with shock. “Th-There has to be a mistake. We checked his hue this morning and it was—a-and besides, he just said—”

Kogami didn’t wait to hear the rest. He bolted out of the analysis lab and down the corridor in the direction of the emergency stairs. His mind raced. One victim found dead in a factory. A second victim mauling herself to death in Nona Tower. Disparate timelines and intervals in both casualties, as if the pill’s dual mechanism could be detonated at a distance, at will. It made no sense. He hurtled down endless flights of stairs many floors below, gnawing despair lodged deep in his stomach. He’d seen him strangling her. He’d tried to drown him. No doubt he was a murderer. It couldn’t be. Nausea and doom had overtaken him by the time he tore past the doors of the last hallway and turned the last corner, silvered walls bouncing all around him as he caught sight of his mark leaving the interrogation room behind Ginoza and Kunizuka. He couldn’t see or hear until his hands were on the man. Until he felt other hands trying to pull him away.

“Shepherd 2! Get a hold of yourself!” Ginoza thundered, forcefully jostling against him. “Stop this right now! Kogami!”

“You fucking bastard,” Kogami growled, both hands yanking the manacled Arumajiro man by his threadbare shirt. “You know about the pill. You know what it is. You’re gonna tell me everything even if I have to kick it outta you!”

“Seems like someone’s found the antidote to Sibyl,” the tottering man hissed back, reveling in Kogami’s stunned expression. “Whatever it is you want to call it.”

“Yeah?” Kogami’s grip was taut on the collar around the man’s neck. “Then you must know about its side effects. Does that make you smile also?”

“I’d be more worried about that hue of yours, Inspector. I’d even go as far as advising you to choose your friends and allies wisely. Before she ruins you.”

A sobering shudder ran through Kogami.

“Search for her,” he rasped with bared teeth, “touch her again, and I swear I’ll find you and kill you with my own hands!”

“That’s enough of that!” Masaoka shouted from somewhere. Next thing he knew, Sasayama was there too, shouldering his way between them, tearing Kogami off as Kunizuka and Gino pulled the man away. Still, Kogami shoved and kicked and cursed as the man crossed the threshold of a door shutting closed, and then his vision went askew as a sharp pain had him hunching down and looking at the ground, immobilized.

“You need to cool down, son.” Masaoka tightened his armlock and Kogami heard himself pant helplessly, his forehead beading with sweat.

“Don’t you realize,” Kogami grunted through the pain, “that’s the one lead we have in this case?”

“And what good will it do if you end up in a rehabilitation facility?” Sasayama’s shoes came into view and Kogami was just able to shift his head up to shoot a glare at him. “How is pulling this bullshit gonna help you catch him then?”

There was the slow squeak and hush of a door opening and closing again.

“I hope you know this is all your influence, Sasayama,” Ginoza roared. “And if you think I won’t have a few words to say about you in the report of this incident, then you’re awfully misguided.” Masaoka loosened the grip of his metallic arm, and Kogami yanked his own free. He straightened up to meet the withering, unforgiving gaze of his partner. “Masaoka, go assist Kunizuka in the discharge of the witness. Kogami, you and I need to talk.”

“Gino, we can’t let him go,” Kogami protested with a gruff voice. “You saw what just happ—”

“Would you rather we do this in the presence of the Chief?”

Kogami squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to steady himself, but rage still boiled inside of him. “Fine,” he grumbled with frustration. “Fine.”

---------

Outside of Nona Tower the sun had set but the city was blazing like it was the middle of the day. A shine as artificial as that of the abolition blocks, though sleeker, clearer, new. Not the dizzying red and yellow twilights that led the way through the narrower, angular alleys of the abolition blocks, nor the darkened hollows and crannies where eyes and knives glinted. From a holographic billboard the large face of a woman donned in traditional garb gazed at him, her pale face dissolving into a pink forest, carpeted with what looked like pink snow. The next thing he noticed was that there was no distinct smell.

He walked the stretch of the plaza. Guardedly. Drawing near to where another hologram had attracted a multitude, but still keeping a cautious distance, he stood to watch. Three large fish swam in a hoop, floating in sync until one of them broke the formation to playfully pursue the others, making a squealing sound similar to that of rats, but louder and full of delight. Something like a fog, a vague sensation taking form, disturbed him. A nebulous recollection from years ago, of childhood in the blocks. A discoloured picture of animals like these nailed to a cracking wall. A wrinkled old lady calling him evil before falling with a thud. He remembered her body being warm even after he’d withdrawn his knife more times than he could count. The eyes in the eyes of his first kill looking deep into him and then…nothing. It’s cold, he thought, and that’s why I’m shivering. He peered at the crowd. Oblivious onlookers and their marveled profiles. His gaze drifted upwards and behind the surrounding skyscrapers. They didn’t know a few kilometers from here people burned. Soon they would.

He pivoted to two pairs of gawking eyes pegged on him. Youngsters. They approached him with slimy passivity, before gushing admiringly.

“Woah, mister, you really went out of your way with that cosplay! See? I told you the tattoos weren’t holo!”

“Of course they’re holo! How do you think he’d show to work with those tattoos? But isn’t the convention until next February though? If it was today I’m sure he’d win first prize!”

He snarled at the two pests, which only seemed to excite them more. A flashing light blinded him for a second, and before he could curse them out, they were scuttling away. It was then he took notice of the woman wearing a red long coat standing beside him.

“Do you actually know where you’re going, Igarashi-san?”

Unblemished skin. Long, silky hair. Almond eyes evenly shaped with a strange green sheen to them, and a thin, pointy nose. An enigmatic smile that could’ve been wider but wasn’t.

“Choe Gu-sung?”

“I knew Makishima-san was right to put his trust in the Arumajiro.”

“Your holo is too perfect,” Igarashi answered with blunt disdain. “No one looks like that.”

“That may be true in the abolition blocks, but as you can see, people love illusions here.”

Minutes later they were driving through the elevated highways of Tokyo. A light rain fell aslant, pins of purple and pink hitting on the windshield of the driverless vehicle. Igarashi kept a wary side-eye on Makishima’s lackey sitting beside him, though underneath that stupid holo he was more unreadable than usual. Not that he didn’t understand how such concealment was necessary for serious matters, but it pissed him off that important work should fall on the lap of a foreigner out of all people.

“I hope your doubts about our plan are settled now, Igarashi-san,” said Choe Gu-sung as if reading his mind, the faintest hint of mockery in his voice.

“Our plan requires certain arrangements we’ll overlook for the moment, but I know the Arumajiro won’t be so sparing afterwards.”

“It’s precisely that ruthlessness that Makishima found so compelling for this project to start with. In this brave new world of Sibyl, few men are willing to go where the Arumajiro go, and so your clan is instrumental for what needs to be done.”

All the sickly ass-licking made Igarashi turn his face toward the city flashing past. “To think you’re the first person to

address me by my name since I was arrested,” he muttered with disgust.

Once they had arrived at the high-rise hotel, an elegant wooden door embellished with the metal knocker of a spider admitted them into a vast suite decked out with fine furnishings. A low gray sofa with plush cushions half-mooned around a glass table where a steaming cup of tea had been set. An open book rested onto the lid of a black piano, and above it, a strange light fixture glittered from the ceiling like a dancing bride. Igarashi was becoming acutely aware of the thick, green rug underneath his tatty boots, but unlike him, the silver-haired man contemplating Tokyo out of the ceiling-to-floor windows fit into the room perfectly. Deceptively.

“I’m glad you made it out safely, Igarashi-san.”

Obscured on the reflection, Makishima’s features betrayed his otherwise harmless semblance as a truer, more sinister face smiled at Igarashi from the glass. Long gone was his first impression of a wealthy, over-spoilt child uttering words of revolution because, where the pointless, clumsy violence of the blocks rose and fell with no consequence or significance, Makishima had given them the means to overthrow an evil bigger than all the gangsters of the underground.

“The MWPSB has an informer in the blocks. That’s how they were able to get us. It’s Lemonade Candy.”

Piqued by his words, Makishima looked briefly over his shoulder. “The mastermind of the resistance works with the MWPSB,” he said, turning again toward the city. “How interesting. It only makes it the more impressive for you to have survived such a predicament, being attacked, as you were, by both sides.”

“It was one of their own group who gave them away. An unregistered who’d worked for Bunzo.” Igarashi’s fingers trailed the soft fabric on the arm of the sofa without daring to sit. “Wanted to settle a score or somethin’. Went mad, and for a moment there I really thought we’d turned the tables on her.”

“Her, you said?”

“Lemonade Candy is a twenty-something woman. Small and thin as a reed. And still the bitch was able to take out our lights singlehandedly and then escape through one of their hidden tunnels. We followed, and for a moment I had her, until an inspector showed up.”

“She ensnared you,” murmured Makishima. “She used herself as bait knowing you’d follow her. What appeared like recklessness at a cursory glance, was a calculated gamble.” He turned around and ambled across the room, feathery and lithe, with hands in his pockets. “We’re not the only ones with the will to choose to bet, it seems.”

Again there was that mysterious smile on Makishima’s lips and, like an obedient disciple, Igarashi felt the irresistible urge to supply more. “The resistance is not our biggest problem. Getting the syndicate to get rid of her now that I’ve seen her should be easy. But there’s also the police. That detective, especially. He don’t seem the type to let go of things.” An ear-to-ear grin spread on his face. “And he’s a hot head for that woman. Nearly slugged me when I mentioned her to him. Threatened to kill me, even.”

“Are they not merely enforcers?”

“No,” Igarashi assured with a sharp shake of his head. “He’s the one who’s been interrogating me. Or trying to, at least. Today I heard his partner refer to him as Kogami. As for the woman…haven’t seen her since that night.”

“Kogami,” Makishima echoed with flash of eagerness in his amber eyes. “Are there still humans in this city who are not afraid of themselves, I wonder? And, if so, is it a coincidence that we happened to lure two of them out of hiding? Is this what the sentimentalist calls ‘destiny’?”

Across from him, Choe Gu-sung ambled over and sat on the other side of the sofa where he opened a laptop. He’d remained so quiet, Igarashi had but completely forgotten about his presence, and his appearance, now devoid of holo, glared like a sour reminder. He began typing something hurriedly.

“They’re vermin—that’s what they are,” crossing his arms, Igarashi commented while looming over Choe. “All those who can’t rise by their own strength deserve to be squashed like roaches. It’s the rule of the world. Eat or be eaten.”

“You know, Igarashi-san,” Makishima lingered by the piano, slowly turning over the pages of the book. “I’ve always admired men like you. The ones who agitate the whole world through the sheer strength of your desire. If the world sings blue, you’ll force it to sing red until it matches your vision. A common man in an uncommon world. Please,” his eyes rose from the page to watch him intently. “Understand that this is the deepest of compliments. You see, in this sterile, plastic world, that type of primal life force has been forgotten. The human animal domesticated, his soul depurated, sterilized, until he became nothing more than the ruins of what he once was—and ruins are only beautiful after a great war. Anything else is…mockery.”

“Well, that’s the way of the blocks. The only way we know. And now, thanks to you, these things will be ours too.” Not until he said it did it seem true to Igarashi—that they would rule over this world just like they ruled over the underground. Dominators, cymatic scanners and drones could not stop them anymore, and the weak children of Sibyl would succumb just like their evil mother. “And even the enemies of the Arumajiro won’t mind it if it means destroying this system.”

“You are correct. Anger has an interesting way of vitalizing people in ways no other need or cause does, notwithstanding how pure or lofty. That vein those spurned by the system share is what the Sibyl system has cut off and anesthetized, to the extent where the masses can’t even recall it ever being there. Their senses lay dormant as if they could truly exist as humans without them. Others even claim to want to live forever. But what value does a life have when it’s benumbed and protected from the knowledge of its own mortality? When it loses all primitive instincts in a beautiful cage where there’s no danger? As in the yesteryear, we need men like you to remind us what it means to be alive.”

In more ways than he could understand, Makishima’s words made Igarashi feel strangely satisfied. Comforted, even. Never before had he thought of his life in any aspect beyond, well, living. What for was a question that hadn’t occurred to him. But for all the things he’d seen and done, he never would have guessed it’d be this man the one to weave meaning into his life.

“Do you know what intrahistory is, Igarashi-san?”

Choe Gu-sung’s annoying typing made it difficult for him to hear the question. “Huh?”

“Intrahistory,” Makishima continued as he ran his finger down a yellowed page in the book, “Is the history that’s left outside of the books. Think of it as the blank margins on the paper. It’s the story of the nameless people who made history but who are never mentioned. Without them, History with a capital H is unconceivable.”

Igarashi gave a sly smile. “Is that the people from the blocks?”

“Indeed. The men who wrought the world and thrust it forward through blood and fire. You can see why the system made sure we never hear about them. Those who dare to be the actors of their own existence have no need for Sibyl.”

“Like the Arumajiro in the blocks.”

Makishima closed the book carefully. “Like the gladiators who died devoured by the lions under the impassive eyes of an Emperor. Or the soldiers in the vanguard bringing us closer to victory with their sacrifices. The anonymous martyrs who enrage the survivors. The strongest within the strong.”

It was quiet now. Choe Gu-sung had abruptly stopped his noise. A bizarre, undeniable aura of expectation hung in the air. Igarashi swallowed something he’d not felt in years down his parched throat, his mind scrambling to decipher what Makishima was getting at with his incessant blabber.

“Violence can be captivating, even beautiful. But like any art, when it’s empty, it’s hopelessly corrupted and vulgar. You do not need to worry about that, Igarashi-san. I’ll be sure to make your sacrifice meaningful.”

Dread surged in Igarashi like a freezing chill. “What the hell are you talking about?” he murmured. He’d kill the two of them. He could take them both easily, rip them apart with his hands, bludgeon them to death.

With a flourish, Choe Gu-sung made a single clicking sound on his keyboard, and Igarashi felt his body drop and crash into the glass table. A hail storm of white particles infested his vision, followed by a green crooked line and a tea cup rolling on the floor. Beyond that, Makishima’s feet trod toward him with the precision of a ropewalker, and he felt fear.

“I know you don’t like this gruesome part, Choe. You may go.”

Igarashi’s wild eyes tried to meet the mechanical eyes of the hacker, but he couldn’t move because a rumbling began inside his body; his blood boiling and searing and cauterizing from the inside. He clenched his teeth and grunted, his body growing rigid as pain travelled through his veins like a jagged marble—excruciating pain that made it impossible to think on anything except on it being over. With what little mind he had, he started wide-eyed at a slice of a window visible between Makishima’s legs, wishing with all his rotten heart he could jump from it. Then he heard himself howl a beast-like howl over and over again.

“’Alas, what is good and what is evil?’” Makishima said looking down on him. “’Are they both one single thing with which we furiously attest our impotence and passion to attain the infinite by even the maddest means? Or are they two different things? Yes…they had sooner be one and the same…for if not, what will become of me on Judgement Day?’”

#psycho-pass #dragnet #my fanfic #Akane Tsunemori #kogami shinya #makishima shogo #original character

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villainousshakespeare · 4 years

Note

Just one bed fluff with a character of your choosing, if it isn't taken yet?! I'm partial to Loki and Tom, but whoever floats your boat in the moment! Congratulations on 200 followers! You deserve them and more, sweetheart!

Sorry this took so long my dear! Hope it was worth the wait. I decided to do Tom for this. :-)

Kicked Out

Rated T - alcohol use, kissing, implied smut

Lots of fluff!

Tom Hiddleston/Reader

The music pulsed around you too loud for the small space. Mechanically you sipped your watered down margarita, trying to push down the depression that threatened to overcome you. If your friends back home could see you now they would be laughing at how excited you had been. Here you were, sitting alone at a hotel bar. This was not how you had envisioned things at all.

It had not all been bad of course. You loved the play you were acting in. Well, of course you did! It was Shakespeare! Even though you had only a bit role you were understudying Desdemona. And the cast was all first rate. You had already learned so much in just a few weeks! The upgrade in quality from your scrappy theater company where it was a struggle to get male performers who came anywhere near the talent level of the women such as yourself to an internationally renowned ensemble boasting genuine stars more than made up for going from playing the lead to a glorified extra.

If only you didn't find yourself feeling so cursedly shy. You had always had a bit of social anxiety, but until this tour it had never been an issue with castmates before. The theater was the one place you had always felt in your element, confident in yourself and able to mingle with everyone. You wished that were the case now.

Being assigned to room with Tisha had seemed like a wonderful stroke of luck at first. Like you she was on her first international tour, and was therefore playing several smaller parts in the ensemble. She was bubbly, outgoing, and talented, immediately drawing the attention of everyone around her. Unfortunately for you, that everyone included Michael, the actor playing Othello. He had become visibly smitten with her during the first read through, ignoring everyone else to shamelessly flirt with her whenever the opportunity presented itself. You would have been happy for her if he wasn't married with a child. The situation didn't seem to bother Tisha, who carelessly told you that she saw the whole thing more as a career move than a real relationship. What happened on the road, she breezily said, didn't effect real life, except for possibly leading to bigger roles down the line when he recommended her for future shows.

It was none of your concern, you had told yourself. They were grown adults and for all you knew he had an understanding with his wife. The problem had begun tonight, when they decided to take their relationship to the next, inevitable level. You had assumed that when this occurred, as you had guessed from the start it would, they would avail themselves of his room. After all, as one of the stars of the production he had a large room all to himself. Unfortunately for you, this did not turn out to be the case. As a married celebrity, Tisha had explained to you in hushed tones, Michael's meant had to be careful in situations such as this. He could never be seen having a woman enter his room, much less stay over night! Of course you wouldn't mind vacating your room for a while, would you? She had pleaded with big puppy eyes in a tone that clearly said she did not expect you to say no, and had somehow ushered you out the door, blithely commenting that you should be able to come back in a few hours, just knock before entering to be sure. The door shutting in your face had been cruel and final.

So here you were, sitting by yourself at the hotel bar with a bartender who looked like he would dearly love to cash you out and head home. You could have found one of the other actors to let you crash wish them, but you didn't really know anyone that well yet. The insecurity that flooded you when you thought of knocking on a virtual stranger's door and asking to sleep on their floor was too overwhelming.

"Trouble sleeping?" a voice like melted caramel asked from just over your shoulder.

You choked on your drink, splashing a bit of it onto your lap and the bar in front of you. You would have recognized that voice anywhere. You heard it often enough in your fantasies. But though it had been three weeks since you had begun working with him you still could not believe that you were now hearing it in person as well. Never in your wildest dreams had you believed that you would actually book a show with Tom Hiddleston.

Turning on your stool you saw the man himself standing behind you. He was so attractive it made you want to cry sometimes. You had come into contact with other celebrities over the years, and in almost every case seeing them up close and personal had somehow ruined the fantasy of them. In real life they had each just seemed... ordinary. With Tom, it was the exact opposite. He was handsome on screen or in pictures, in real life he was literally breathtaking. From the top of his burnished gold curls to the soles of his well worn grey boots and everywhere in between he was perfect.

"You could say that," you laughed uneasily, face turning crimson. You had never spoken to him alone before, and never anything other than vague platitudes at the end of rehearsals or addressed to a group at large.

"Me too," he said, giving you a half grin. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

What could you do but shake your head and gesture to the seat next to you. Pulling out the bar stool he folded his long, lean frame onto it, stretching his legs out. Your feet dangled like a child's from the stool, but his reached the floor with ease you noticed. Damn, but his legs were long!

"I'm always nervous before opening in a new city," he admitted, signaling for the bartender to come over. He ordered a single malt scotch and another daiquiri for you, requesting that the waiter make it with top shelf tequila.

"Still?" you asked, surprised that he would get nervous given his lengthy resume.

"Of course," he shrugged. "Never trust an actor that tells you he's not nervous. He's either lying or not pushing himself hard enough. The day my nerves go is the day I pack it in. The challenge is everything."

"Well, it's good to know it's not just me," you said quietly with a soft smile. You were nervous of course, even if that wasn't why you were there now.

"This is your first professional show, isn't it?" he asked.

You nodded, surprised that he knew. Was your acting that clunky that your lack of experience showed in just your few scenes?

"I watched your audition tape," he told you, grabbing a handful of bar nuts and arranging them on a napkin. "I wanted to come to the auditions, but Ken thought it might make people nervous. I made sure to watch all the tapes though. You were very good. The passion you put into Lady Anne was remarkable."

You blinked at him, all words deserting you. He had seen that? You were quite proud of your Lady Anne, but he was right. It was hard enough to have Kenneth Branagh watching you audition. If Tom had been in the room, you doubt you would have been able to do it.

"Thank you," you said at last after a long pause while he snacked on peanuts. "I had no idea."

"I like having a say in things like that," he shrugged. "When you're doing a show that's this intense, who you're on stage with is a big deal. Also, both Ken and I are firm believers in giving new talent an oppertunity. After all, him taking a chance on me is how I ended up with my career. What kind of person would I be if I didn't pass on the favor. I was the one who pushed for you to be Desdemona's understudy, by the way."

"Really?" you wished the word didn't come out like a squeak.

"Mhm. In fact, I thought you could have played the part. Producers wanted a name though, and I guess you can't blame them. Have to make their money back. Still, you were quite impressive."

You were saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of your drinks. Tom thanked the bartender and asked to have the drinks, including the one you had had before, charged to his room before leaving a large tip on the bar.

"Thank you again," you said, sipping on your new and much stronger drink.

"No need," he waved it off. "Othello was my big break, you know. I played Cassio in a production with Chewitel Eijifor and Ewan McGregor. It was fantastic, but I always wanted to do Iago. I try not to make dream part lists, I'm a bit superstitious that way, but now that I'm actually doing it I can admit it."

"I would think it would be on any actor's list!" you said, trying to hide the fact that of course you knew about his previous Othello, along with every other part on his lengthy cv. "I would like to tackle it myself some day."

"I would love to see that," he smiled, looking sincere. "You have a great facility with the language. And there is no reason why Iago should have to be male. I must say that I greatly appreciate that we live in a time where the gender barriers for such superb parts are beginning to break down. What other roles do you dream of tackling? I promise I won't tell a soul!"

You weren't sure whether it was the alcohol warming you or the way he smiled and listened to you like you were the only person in the world, but you soon found yourself engaged in a long discussion of Shakespeare that ranged from contentious - you would never agree on who the ultimate Richard III was, with you preferring Ian McKellan and Tom being loyal to his good friend Benedict - to the ridiculous. He had you in stitches when he recounted the story of an actor (he refused to name them) who had so completely missed an entrance on press night for Much Ado that Tom and his scene partner had to improve in verse for three minutes. When the poor man had made it onto stage, he had not had time to put his shoes back on. The review in Time Out the next day had gone on for two paragraphs about the social commentary of having a barefooted Don Pedro. By that point you were on your third drink and laughing like old friends, hunched over and shaking with mirth.

"Oh! Yes!" Tom said suddenly, pulling himself up to standing and holding out his hand to you. "Come on!"

"What?" you asked, totally confused.

"This song!" he replied, enthusiasm shining from his face.

"It's a good song," you agreed, listening to Michael Jackson's Beat It blaring out from the speakers.

"Well then?"

"What?"

"Dance with me!"

"Tom..."

"I refuse to take no for an answer," he insisted, dragging you to your feet and onto the dance floor.

Tom's energy was infectious, there was no avoiding it. Abandoning the last shreds of your dignity you surrendered to the music and the exuberance of the man spinning you around the floor. He was good of course, you had seen it on videos often enough, but he made you actually feel like you could dance as well. Michael Jackson turned into Prince and then Tina Turner as the two of you made idiots of yourselves in the empty bar.

"Last call," the beleaguered bar tender called, ruining the vibe.

Looking around you realized that he had put up all of the chairs and wiped down the bar. As tempting as it was to order another drink and prolong the fun, you knew that it was not fair to the poor server. Still, you didn't know what to do with yourself now. Would Tisha and Michael be finished with whatever they were doing? Had it been long enough to go up?

As Tom helped put up the remaining bar stools and finished off his scotch you collected your purse. You stared at your phone, trying to decide whether or not to text Trisha.

"Okay, out with it," Tom said, looking at you with an unwavering stare.

"With what?" you evaded.

"The truth. Why were you down in the bar by yourself? And don't say nerves. I've talked to you enough now to know that you are not the sort to drown your anxiety in alcohol."

"You did," you said, not believing your audacity.

"I came down for tea," he said.

"Tea?" you parroted.

"There was no earl grey in my room. I like to have a cup in the morning while I get ready."

"But you had a scotch! Two of them!"

"Well, I would hardly be a gentleman if I let a lovely lady drink alone," he shrugged. "So. Spill it. What brought you down here all by yourself?"

"Um... it was just... a little crowded in my room," you tried to sound as noncommittal as possible.

"Ah, I see," his quick brain filled in the pieces. "You're rooming with Tisha, aren't you?"

"Yes," you answered slowly.

"So Michael has made his move has he?"

"You know?" you asked, somewhere between mortified and relieved.

"Well, they haven't exactly been subtle," he said with a wry laugh. "Also, he has a bit of a reputation. I had hoped it was just rumor, God knows there are enough of those about me, but it appears in this case there was some truth behind it. Don't tell me they kicked you out?"

"They told me I could come back later," you said quickly, trying for some reason to make them look not quite as selfish and failing miserably.

"Why couldn't they just have gone to his room? No, never mind. Foolish question. You poor thing. I am so sorry you have to deal with this. Would you like me to check with the front desk and get you another room?"

"Oh, no, that's really not necessary!" you said. You could only imagine the talk if that were to happen, trying to explain to the tour manager why there was an additional expense on the invoice. True, it was Tisha and Michael who should be made uncomfortable by it, but you just knew you would be the one to squirm from the scrutiny.

"Well, there is only one thing for it," he said, placing his large hand on the small of your back and ushering you out of the bar. "You shall stay with me."

"What?" for the second time your voice, pride of your acting arsenal, was rendered little more than a dog whistle.

"It's no problem," he shrugged, walking towards the elevator and taking you with him. "I have a large single room all to myself. I'm sure it will be much more comfortable than breaking up whatever your roommate and Michael have going on."

You looked away and bit your lip, trying to decide what to do. It was such a tempting offer. Not that you would ever get any sleep in the same room with this man, but at least you wouldn't have to face the love birds.

"Darling," Tom said, gently turning your face to look you in the eye, "you have no reason to worry. I am not Michael. I would never take advantage of a costar. I just want you to have a comfortable place to get a good night's rest before your performance."

"I never thought... Of course you wouldn't take advantage!" you said with a laugh. As if someone like Tom would try to take advantage of you, you thought. It would be hilarious if he wasn't standing there looking like an overly attentive angel.

"Good, then it's settled," Tom's smile beamed at you. "Come on."

And just like that you found yourself in the unbelievable position of movie star Tom Hiddleston showing you into a large corner hotel room on the top floor. The comparison to your small shared double was insane. You were fairly sure your whole room would fit into his en suite.

"Oh," you gasped, not intending it to be audible.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning to you all solicitous.

"Nothing," you said miserably, trying not to stare at the giant king size bed. You didn't know why you had expected there to be two beds. He had told you it was a single room. As it was there was not even a couch for you to sleep on. Two large over stuffed chairs took up space on the other side of the room, and hard backed ones surrounded the table near floor to ceiling the windows.

"Ah," he said, perceptively following your thoughts. "Yes. One bed. If you like I can sleep in the chair."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" you blurted out.

"I assure you, I have suffered much worse," he smiled. "If you feel uncomfortable sharing, I will gladly curl up in the armchair."

"No, that's just silly," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "After all, the bed is so big you could fit five people in it. As long as you don't mind, that is."

"Not a bit," he said rubbing the back of his neck. "Now, let me find you something to sleep in."

To no surprise you soon found yourself in a pair of long running shorts and a Legend t-shirt. You surreptitiously pinched yourself to make sure this was real. To be dressed in one of the patented Hiddleston outfits was surreal to say the least.

You walked out of the bathroom to find Tom sitting on the edge of the bed in his own pair of jogging shorts, glorious broad chest bare. Trying desperately not to stare, you shyly walked around to the other side of the bed.

"Left side alright for you?" he asked, always the gentleman.

You nodded and quickly got yourself under the covers, pulling the blankets up to your chin. Tom turned off the light and got himself situated, leaving the bedding down at his waist. In the dim light you could just make out the whirl of hair on his chest as he curled onto his side facing you. Your fingers itched to reach out and feel it, but you managed to keep them to yourself. You could feel the heat radiating from him, like a live fire warming your body. He reached out gently and touched your face with the backs of his fingers, still staying to his side of the wide mattress.

"It was lovely getting to know you, darling," he said quietly. "Rest well."

You smothered the whimper threatening to erupt and rolled onto your side, facing the window as far away from him as you could get without hanging off the edge. Attempting to ignore the pooling desire in your center you settled in for what was sure to be a long, sleepless night.

When the alarm went off you almost jumped out of your skin. Blearily you tried to sit up, but a strong arm around you kept you anchored to the bed. A murmured curse sounded behind you and the beeping stopped. A face buried itself in your hair as you were pulled closer to the wall of chest at your back.

Oh sweet lord! you thought, as awareness of your location flooded into your brain. Gingerly you opened one eye just enough to confirm that you were half way across the bed in the center of the mattress. You must have rolled over in your sleep, you realized. Which of course meant that Tom had also drifted to the middle of the bed to meet you in what could only be described as he the most comfortable and simultaneously uncomfortable embrace of your life.

He felt divine. He body was all pliant skin over hard muscle, Warm and soft and deliciously scented. His obscenely large hand splayed across your waist, just below your breasts, to rest against the stripe of bare flesh where your borrowed t-shirt had ridden up in your sleep. His legs, those impossibly long limbs you had admired in the bar last night, were pressed against you, one rising up to hook over your own. It was heaven. If only it was intentional. Silently as you lay in his embrace your mind cringed awaiting the moment he woke the rest of the way and realized that the woman in his arms was only you, a pathetic cast mate he had taken pity on when she was cast out of her own room.

When you could bear it no longer, you tried to gently pull away from him. Once again his arm tightened around you, holding you close to him. You closed your eyes and tried to think of a way to delicately extricate yourself. That was when you heard your name, mumbled in his honey warm voice made rough by sleep into your hair.

"Stay," he said, snuggling further into you. "Please."

Well, when he asked so nicely! Really, you decided, when would you ever have such a chance again. Surrendering to the bliss, you allowed yourself to sink back against him. You would soak up these moments, you decided. Save them for when you were feeling lonely, or needed a happy memory to see you through a hard time. After all, what could be better than being held in Tom Hiddleston's strong arms?

It was too short a time before the alarm went off again. Tom swore, lifting his arm from around your body to turn it off. You felt him, more fully awake this time, realize the situation you found yourselves in. His body stiffened and his leg quickly slid off of yours.

"I am so sorry," he said, pulling his head from where it had lain in the top of your hair. "Please, darling, forgive me. I didn't mean to take advantage."

"No need to apologize," you assured him, trying to sound as though this sort of thing happened to you every day. "After all, we were both asleep."

"It's just been so long since I've had a beautiful woman in my bed," he sighed, arm rising to cover his eyes. "My body just reacted instinctually."

"Beautiful?" you heard yourself say, a note of disbelief in your voice.

"Can you doubt it?" he asked, sounding surprised himself.

"Generally speaking," you laughed, thinking that this man calling anyone beautiful was like the sun calling a lightning bug bright.

"My darling, you are stunning," he said, rising up on his elbow to look at you. "You are also intelligent, funny, and delightful. I thought I had a crush on you before I got to know you last night, but now..."

"You have - a crush?"

"Damn," he said quietly. "Forgive me. I should not have said that."

Slowly, not daring to believe what you had just heard, you rolled over so that you were facing him. Hair mussed and eyes slightly unfocused Tom looked even more devastating than usual. A light growth of stubble shadowed his jaw, and in the dawn light his freckles stood out against his pale skin.

"Did you mean it?" you asked, stunned.

"There are few things as attractive... as sexy as talent," he said quietly, not meeting your eye. "When I saw you act, well, I could scarce keep my eyes off of you."

"You do realize that you are the most talented person I have ever seen," you told him, shock bringing out your candid side.

"You are very kind," he blushed.

"I am very honest," you answered. "You really think of me like that?"

"I think of you all the time," he replied, looking at you at last. "Often like that. I have spent the last three weeks trying to work up the courage to speak with you. When I saw you sitting alone in the bar last night, I thought someone must have heard my prayers."

"I am in a dream," you said. "I am in a dream and any moment now I will wake up and be back in the small black box theater performing for ten people."

"If you are in a dream than I am too," he smiled. "Darling, I understand if you want to leave. Things with me are never simple. It is an unfortunate side effect of the career I have chosen. But if you are willing to try, I would love to court you."

"Court me?" you grinned at his archaic turn of phrase. "Like with flowers and poems and such?"

"If you would like," he said, surprising you once more. "I have written a poem or two in my day, though I am more adept at songs. They are more forgiving. For now, we could perhaps start with breakfast?"

"Breakfast sound wonderful," you said, realizing suddenly that you were in fact hungry.

"I will order room service then," he nodded. "But first, sweetheart, would it be too forward of me... may I kiss you?"

Unable to speak you nodded your head once. Tom smiled, and reached down to grasp your chin gently between his thumb and finger. With an aching tenderness he brought his lips to yours. The kiss was soft and sweet and full of promise. You felt it all the way down to your toes in ways that far more invasive kisses had never moved you. Your back arched and you molded yourself to him, his free arm encircling you to hold you close. Emboldened by the embrace, you let your own hands find their way around him and to his back where they slid down the naked skin in a caress. With a quiet moan he pulled away, and you briefly felt his arousal brush against your let as he let you go.

"The things you do to me," he sighed, fingers lightly tracing your face.

"I know what you mean," you breathed, feeling light headed from the kiss.

"I started this leg of the tour irritated at Michael," he confided. "Now I am tempted to send him a thank you gift. What do you thing? Champagne? Chocolates?"

"If we give them all that, won't it just encourage them the next night?" you giggled.

"Ah, now you see my clever plan," he teased. "How else can I hope to get you back in my bed?"

"Tom," you spoke seriously, "clever plans are not needed. All you need do is ask."

"Hmm," he grinned, pulling you close once again. "I am suddenly more happy than I can say that they forgot my tea."

"So am I," you smiled, nestling in against him. "You have no idea."

"Well then," he said. "You will just have to show me. Fortunately, we have months to go, and I for one have never been so happy to start a tour."

As you burrowed back together under the covers you could not help but agree.

@yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @nonsensicalobsessions @hiddlesholic

#fic #fanfic #milestone challenge #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader

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samcedesvegas · 4 years

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Movie Set || Samcedes || Mercedes Trailer

Mercedes Jones made her way onto the set, today was the first table read for her new Romance Comedy, which she was thrilled about. She had cameos and guest star spots. Even as a supporting actress in a blockbuster hit but to be the Leading Lady in her own movie, that was huge. Acting wasn't her first love but it was a fun distraction. She was fresh off her Every Woman Tour and ready to work.

Walking into the big conference room, she and her Manager/Best Friend Tina were the first ones there. Taking off her sunglasses and smoothing down her purple and pink tie dye Jersey Dress she sighed. "Still can't believe we are here. We are doing this." Tina smiled. "Well you are ready, you know your lines, and your co star is pretty hot right now."

Mercedes took her seat and grabbed her script looking back over it. "Yeah well hot and a playboy doesn't really make you a great actor now does it? But I won't judge..." She lied she totally would judge him, she knew his reputation. All men were dogs, period. And that included her dog of an ex who dumped her and got right with a groupie. Jackass.

Reluctantly, Sam Evans spent the latter part of his evening indulging in countless free shots of tequila. He felt like crap but luckily his bloodshot eyes were hidden behind dark Ray Bans. He pulled the hot coffee cup away from his lips, regretting how much he seemed to indulge in the perks of his newfound fame last night.

From the rural plains of Tennessee to sunny Los Angeles, Sam could finally say he made it. Where he was from, not many people did. It was either a nine to five at the piggly wiggly, prison, or a grave. There was no in between in that small town. Sam had played his fair share of smaller roles but this was the one. His entire team was sure of it. So, he was going to make sure no one knew how hungover he was. Especially not his beautiful songstress of a co-star. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad first impression on her.

Mercedes felt her phone vibrate, another photo of her ex Gabriel Norris with another female. The Quarterback was certainly enjoying being single. She rolled her eyes as she glanced up watching people filed inside, they were supposed to be "mingling" to get to know each other. Personally Mercedes wasn't really looking forward to it. She put the script down as Tina told her to be nice and moved over to her costars. Their conversations though, were not what she wanted to be a part of.

Her "best friend" in the movie was played by Jane Hayward, a lesser known actress but from what she heard, the girl was good. Not wanting to interrupt their riveting conversation about the best bars, she turned to see her love interest Sam Evans standing alone. Walking over to him she extended her hand. "I guess we are working together." she said a little more flat than she intended.

The room full of people gave Sam a small inkling of anxiety. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he’d done a host of tv sitcoms and supporting acting roles before but this was his first leading role. That made him nervous as hell. But he was an actor so it was easy for him to paint on the brave face. After all that was his area of expertise. This was the moment he worked his entire career for and he wasn’t going to ruin it by being a complete spaz.

“Guess we are.” He smiled extending his own hand to meet hers. Again, he was trying not to be a spaz but he couldn’t contain his excitement. He’d been around his fair share of celebrities but none as famous as Mercedes Jones. A force to be reckoned with in the music industry. Sam would shamelessly admit to having heard every one of her albums, even the ones from her girl group days. Didn’t hurt that she was also easy on the eyes. In his words...smoking hot. “Pleasure is all mine m’lady.”

Mercedes had to admit, the casting director did a great job at casting Sam. He had the look that was for sure. Tall, handsome, sexy, if she was into that kinda thing and at the moment she was not. He would get the girls and let's not be biased guys in just off his looks alone and she would have her own fanbase so as long as they did their part and gave a great performance the movie should do well. If Twilight could do it then so could they.

However the moment he spoke she understood why people called him a playboy. Those green eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses inside gave off a sense of coolness why his accent and tone would drive a woman crazy, yes he was a playboy and she would not be played by him. She pulled her hand away and nodded. "We should probably make a schedule to see if we can run lines together. Make this process as painless as possible."

A lady who was about her business, Sam could definitely appreciate that. The women that seemed to keep him company as of late were all either brainless supermodels or dense socialites that wanted nothing more than the perfect photo op. Be seen on his arm and boost their own careers. Not saying he got nothing out of it, he was a man with needs of course. But this was certainly a breath of fresh air. A woman of substance. But he was going to hold off on the questions about her girl group breakup. Those questions had been lingering around in his head for years.

“Oh sure, but I’m totally not good with numbers, dates, and all that junk so I’ll follow your lead.” As they took their seats, Sam couldn’t help but admire her natural curves. In fact he was pretty obvious with his glaring. “So what made you wanna’ jump into my world? I mean it’s not like you need the gig. You’re already one hell of a star.” He complimented hoping it’d gain him some brownie points. Plus a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone...right?

Mercedes took her seat glancing at her script, they would be starting in about ten minutes and she was ready to get it over with. As Sam started to speak again she was at first appreciative that he wouldn't be that hard to work with, but then his next words caused her to roll her eyes. "His world"? was he serious? There went another person who felt because she had been singing for the last 15 years that she couldn't possibly act as well. What did people think Music videos were?

"Well gosh I guess I figured if brainless oafs could do it why should I give it a try?" She said annoyed. "Just because I am a singer, doesn't mean I don't have talent, because I do. I am a damn great actress and I earned this part. So don't go thinking I got it because I know the director or some bull like that!" she hissed.

“Whoa, whoa...I wasn’t saying that. I know you’re talented as hell. I’ve been following your career since I was a kid. Ever since Cinderella, I’ve been a fan. Sorry I wasn’t trying to offend you. Just curious is all.” Crap he was ruining his chances before they even started. Was it wrong that her sassiness kinda sorta turned him on? She was hot, she was feisty, and the woman knew how to speak up for herself. How could Sam not like that.

Taking a deep breath he began looking over his lines as well, dialing it back a bit. So clearly she wasn’t fond of his charm which wasn’t to be expected, but a decent man always knew how to bounce back. “What I meant was, what made you wanna’ do a movie? I mean your career in music is far better than anyone here. Didn’t think you needed anything like this.”

A fan. Great, not only was she stuck with the playboy of L.A. he was a fan. This was the man who was rumored to sleep with every female he worked with. They did a spread and then he made them spread, their legs. And Mercedes was not about to be a notch on his belt. She may have been dating a Quarterback but she was not easy, she prided herself on her reputation. Sam was bad business for her good girl image.

She cleared her throat turning towards him. "Lets just clear this up right now. I am not going to sleep with you. I took this job because I am a sucker for romance. This story where boy and girl fall in love but realize it too late, it's a beautiful love story about second chances. Yes you are hot which makes my job easier and your accent...well whatever but make no mistake the closest you are gonna come to getting between my legs, is the fake sex scenes we have on screen."

Sam was undoubtedly captivated by the songstress. The way she protested, yet still managed to acknowledge how hot he was extremely gratifying. As humble as he was with his career, his ego when it came to women was a whole lot bigger. Now he wasn’t the “womanizer” the media painted him out to be. Sam Evans was actually the biggest sweetheart. He didn’t get a kick out of smashing and dashing. He was a stand up guy. The man just enjoyed the company of women, was that such a bad thing?

“Look Mercedes, I in no way plan on getting between those beautiful legs of yours...unless you want me to. I know the tabloids can kinda make me seem like a player but that just ain’t true. I just crush a lot.” He chuckled hoping his little joke would lighten the mood. Of course he was attracted to Mercedes, how could he not be? She was fine, confident, and had a whole lot of attitude. “Seriously though, I want you to feel completely comfortable with me. So although it’ll be hard not to, I’ll dial back the flirting and keep this thing strictly business.”

Everything that came out of Sam's mouth was trouble. He was definitely a smooth talking player, but right now she was immune to him. No matter how hot he was and no matter what his accent was doing to her. She rolled her eyes at his comment. "Cute." she said going back to her script, this was going to be a long night.

The table read was not bad once they got started, they read through it fairly quickly, and even though Sam seemed like a player, he was a good actor, she could give him that. The last few days were met with getting acquainted, with getting their trailers and revisions, with trying her best to not let Sam know he was getting to her. She asked him to meet her in her trailer so they could go over the revision of the first scene they were shooting. It was a love scene that she was both regretting but looking forward to. Wearing a white and pink sundress she threw her hair up into a messy buy and put her glasses on going over the script and making sure she knew her new lines.

Sam had the paper with his lines clutched in hand as he walked across the studio lot to meet Mercedes in her trailer. He already had most of his lines memorized but he still jumped at the chance to have someone on one time with Mercedes. Even if they were just handling business. He actually enjoyed being around her. She was funny, quick witted, and kept him on his toes. Not to mention her smile. It did something to him. That smile could light up an entire room.

Sam did a quick breath check in his hand and ate a couple breath mints to be safe. He took a deep breath before knocking on the trailer door and awaiting Mercedes' answer. In the meantime he began doing his daily mouth exercises to loosen up his lips. Just in case she wanted to have a few practice runs at the steamy kiss on page three.

Mercedes closed her eyes going over the lines and then opening to see if she got them right. She was on a roll when she heard someone knock. Knowing it was Sam, she cleared her throat moving to the couch and smoothing her dress. "Girl stop! He's just a coworker, get over it." She shook it off reaching down and grabbing a piece of gum. "Come in." She said pushing her glasses up and going back to the script. She did not like Sam Evans; he was a playboy who she was not gonna fall for. Plus she was on a men detox.

Sam let himself in once he heard her voice from the other side of the door. Keep it cool he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him. Mercedes made it very clear that nothing would happen between them beyond what was written in the script but for some reason Sam felt differently. To him there was already an undeniable chemistry between them. He just had to get her to see it. In due time. “So where do you want me?”

Looking towards Sam she smiled softly. "You can sit next to me, we are filming page three tonight so we might as well make sure we know what we are doing. So let's get right to it." She opened her script to the page, just in case. "So remember these two are talking about love and life, looking out at the stars, they both broke up with their partners and are consoling each other."

She closed her eyes getting into the headspace. Opening her eyes she got into character. "You ever wonder if anyone in this world can truly be happy? I thought so...once, but now i am divorced and raising my son on my own, and I don't think it's possible."

Sam took his seat next to Mercedes and settled in comfortably. He placed the sheet with his lines on the table in front of them and turned to her. As she began her lines Sam kept his own rolling around in his head. Because of his dyslexia, reading off paper was never his thing. Luckily for him, he had the memory of an elephant so his strategy was to memorize and it usually worked for him. When he wasn’t staring at his co-worker.

“Crap wait, I screwed up. Start over.” He nervously shuffled as Mercedes repeated her line. Then a complete one-eighty. Sam transformed into Ryder Stone in that very moment. “I know they can. I felt it for years...my Isabel made me believe in love. After I lost her I still felt grateful that I got to experience true happiness in the first place. I keep that with me always.”

To say Mercedes was underwhelmed was an understatement, though once he started again, she could see him getting into character so she continued her lines as Brooklyn Myers. "Yeah but what you and she had, it was raw and passionate. Nate and I never had that and I suppose that's why it didn't work out. Hey, maybe if I followed you to school and not went on my own path we would have gotten together." She said as she laughed softly, looking past Sam as if really seeing their past and future. "I don't regret my son I never could, but I regret his dad. He never truly loved me, and now I wonder if anyone besides my family ever could." She glanced at Sam longingly before looking down to her hands, as per the script.

She was really good, not that it was surprising to him or anything. From the few short days that he’d known her she was always on top of her game. This was clearly no different. Sam reached out and titled Mercedes’ chin up with his index finger, following the script. “Maybe stop looking so far and stop thinking so hard. Nate was a prick and he didn’t deserve a good girl like you.” Their eyes were now locked on each other’s as Sam stroked his thumb against the smooth skin of her chin...not in the script. A strange flutter happened in his stomach. They were acting but for some reason he was really into it. Really really into it.

Mercedes' eyes met his, his word delivery was impressive and he was improvising which was working, maybe a little more than it should since she was melting against his touch. Eyes never leaving his she continued. "I am a thinker, you dream and I am practical. It's why we are best friends why we work. Why I love you." She said softly. "If the one man I thought loved me didn't deserve me, then who does?"

His eyes never left hers, it was like they were staring into one another’s souls. At first he wasn’t completely sure about the role but he definitely felt connected to the character now. “Maybe a man who’s been right in front of you all along. One who’s always been in your corner right or wrong.“ He paused before delivering his next line. “Brooklyn what if it’s us that’s meant to be? Has that ever crossed your mind?” He cupped her cheek lovingly, his face serious but soft at the same time.

She started at him for a moment letting it seem she was taking his words seriously. "Us?" She looked away from him, pulling away and standing. Thank goodness her trailer was basically a mini house so they could move freely. "I'm not-" she wrapped her arms around herself as the script said, since it was a cold night. "You don't have to pity me Ryder. I know Isabel was the love of your life and we all know you only get one."

He quickly got up meeting her in the center of the trailer floor. His arm resting on the small of her back. “Pitty? Never. Don’t you get what I’m trying to say? Brooklyn I love you...as more than just my best friend” He slowly turned her around to face him again. He stopped momentarily really getting into character. He had to because the next line called for his lips to meet hers. “Yes, I loved Isabel and I always will. But she’d want me to be happy. You’re that for me...” without hesitation he went in for the kiss.

Mercedes knew his hand on her back was coming, but what she wasn't prepared for was the way it made her feel. She closed her eyes gathering her bearings as he spoke. He turned her towards him and she stared up at him. She knew the kiss was coming, but she figured they would stop beforehand. She wasn't prepared for him kissing her. Even more so she wasn't prepared for the way it made her feel. She had to pull away before a moan hit her lips. "Umm okay, that was great but the kiss. It really needs work." She liked moving away from him.

Sam was taken aback because he was so sure that his kissing skills were definitely on point. He damn sure wasn’t expecting that reclamation but he was a man of pride. He wasn’t going to let her see him sweat. Removing his hand from her back, he shoved them into his pockets. “Please you know it was good.” He started with a smug smile on his lips. “You were really good though. Somebody’s been practicing their lines. A proud co-star.” He winked before plopping down on her couch. “So you wanna run it again? Or you think you’re good?”

There it was, that smugness that annoyed her. Nate had it and now she saw Sam did and she couldn't stand it. Turning towards him she folded her arms across her chest. She was gonna let him off the hook because yes she did enjoy the kiss but he was asking for it so she broke it down. It was good, not mind blowing. "Good? Your technique was sloppy, delivery was weak and F.Y.I. you don't have to use that much tongue right away. You wanna make her beg for more." She moved to her fridge and grabbed a water bottle. "And of course I am really good. Mercedes Jones doesn't do mediocre."

She was faking hard and Sam knew it. However, he was going to let her have her moment. Clearly she needed it. He had the best lips in town, who wouldn’t wanna’ kiss em? “Damn...that’s pretty harsh. But I’m a strong man, I can take a little constructive criticism.” He nodded with confidence. “So Uhh...what are you doing after this. A couple of us are going out for food and drinks. Y’know mingling and all that junk. You wanna tag along?”

She knew he didn't believe her and for good reason but for some reason she just couldn't get behind him being that cocky. It oozed off him like a stench and she wasn't here for it. "Can you? Cause it seems to me you are a man with a huge ego who can't possibly imagine a woman not wanting him. News Flash, you are not God's gift to women." She shook her head. "No I am good. I wanna run my lines a few more times."

She turned from him but stopped; she wanted to further prove her point and maybe kiss him just once more. "And by the way, this is how you give a mind blowing kiss." She said moving towards him and pulling him towards her. Her lips met his in a soft kiss at first and then deepened it pushing him against the wall as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her tongue swiped across his bottom lip before she took his lower lip and nipped it gently before pulling away and stepping back. "That is how you give a memorable kiss."

Indeed the kiss was very memorable, no denying that. Sam swore he’d lay off the flirting but he couldn’t help himself. That’s just the way he was around pretty ladies. But by the way she was shutting him down maybe she just really wasn’t interested.

He was fine with that. He wasn’t a pusher and he damn sure didn’t want to pressure her, that wasn’t his style. If anything were to happen between them he wanted it to be mutual. “I can stay here too and run lines, drinks will always be there. Plus I sorta wanna get this scene right. Since my kissing is so weak and mediocre.” He chuckled.

Mercedes watched him for a moment. Then moved back. "Fine if you really wanna get this right then let's go. But look it wasn’t bad it's just. You rushed in there like a preteen having his first kiss, not like a man in love who knows this kiss, this kiss is gonna determine if she loves him back. Ryder is putting everything on the line with this kiss. She stands in front of him. "Like this." She clears her throat. “Yes, I loved Isabel and I always will. But she’d want me to be happy. You’re that for me...” her hand went to his face, softly holding it there as she leaned in. "I love you." She improvised as she kissed him softly, gradually growing deeper. Then pulled away. "Now you try."

His blood was rushing to places and quick. Sam was lost in the kiss, so much so that he hadn't even noticed that she pulled away. He slowly opened his eyes and let out a breathless "Damn". That was the only way to properly describe the kiss from Mercedes. Though he was pretty sure nothing was wrong with his kiss before. He had to admit though, she was a damn good kisser. He cleared his throat and shook his shoulders as he repeated his lines once more and mimicked Mercedes' actions, except this time he fully committed. He dipped her back, planting a feverish kiss to her lips. "Hmm how about that?" he asked, lifting her back up.

Mercedes smirked hearing his response. Yeah she was good, and that kiss was fire. She stood back waiting for him and yeah the kiss was great but he still wasn't getting it. "Sam, now you are just over doing it, you need to connect with Ryder. With why he loves her. He's her best friend, she was always there for him and he knows he can depend on her, forever. Every touch and action proves that. It's a touch during a kiss." She said touching his face. "Now try it again but be in love."

Huffing under his breath he closed his eyes. He liked the way Mercedes seemed to push him. Was it because she saw his potential? Or maybe she was just as happy to keep kissing him as he was with her. Either way Sam had no complaints. “Yes, I loved Isabel and I always will. But she’d want me to be happy. You’re that for me...” He placed a hand softly on her cheek, caressing her soft skin. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he stared intensely. Her lips were in view and he just went for it. Pulling her face inches from his, he closed his eyes letting his lips work their magic.

Mercedes waited for Sam to start again, and was pleasantly surprised at the way he looked, the way he spoke. His hand on her cheek sent shivers up and down her spine, and his kiss proved that with a little work, Sam could make the most of his talents. His kiss, this kiss was amazing. It took everything in her not to go weak in the knees but she couldn't help herself wanting more. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Sam wasn’t expecting for Mercedes to match his energy but she did. It took everything in him to break away, not even realizing his hands had fallen to her hips. “When we shoot that scene on Monday, the entire cast in crew are gonna’ be in awe. Totally gonna crush it.” He winked. “Now if you’ll excuse me I think you took off all my chapstick with that last one.” He joked as he pulled his hands off of her with a smile.

Mercedes let her hands fall, shocked at her actions, not missing a stride she shook her head with a smile. "Yeah, considering that I acted my ass off and you improved, I think they are gonna be shocked at your improvement." She teased. She walked over to her water and took a sip. "Do you want some water?"

Sam nodded as Mercedes supplies him with some water. Much needed for the amount of times they ran that kissing even. If she hadn’t made it clear that she had no intentions on falling for his charm, he would be pretty sure that she liked him. Maybe not on a deep level but the chemistry was undeniable. “You sure that was all acting?” He teased as he fanned himself. “Because woo! I’m impressed if so.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes going back to her water and sitting on the sofa. "Trust me you will know if I liked you. A real kiss from me, a real true Mercedes Jones kiss, it'll leave you speechless, it will make you lose all train of thought other than wanting to kiss me again." She said staring at him.

#glee #samcedes #samcedes 1x1 #mercedes jones #sam evans

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saintmariana · 3 years

Text

Women have plenty to be ashamed of.

Growing up I was conflicted with a duality in which on the one hand there lied my nature and on the other the will of my mother. At the age of 16 my mother was homeless and desperate for anyone to come and save her torment; her mother was an abusive and neglectful heroin addict and it was around this time two of her brothers had sat in prison for having robbed banks (her eldest brother was busting cheeks-though he denies it). It was during such a trying time she had met my father who swept her in his arms that very day moving her to an entirely different state with him. My father was 21 during this time and an illegal immigrant from Mexico as were his siblings and other friends that had come with him, among his friends was Santiago.

My father had drunkenly cheated on my mother one night and immediately admitted it to my mother expressing his profound remorse: my mother responded with cheating on my father with Santiago-my father was heartbroken but understood and forgave her on the grounds she wouldn’t cheat on him again, unfortunately for the naïveté of my father my mother only used his cheating as a means to rationalize her feelings for Santiago which were already present within her before he had even cheated on her; my mother would not only go on to cheat on my father several more times with Santiago but had also professed her love for Santiago and her contempt for my father (note: my father is not one to be pitied, I simply empathize with him); what my mother hadn’t considered was that my father’s older brother was their boss, as in the boss of my father, his siblings and other friends they had immigrated with for a construction company: after hearing of Santiago’s betrayal of my father his brother had fired Santiago. Santiago moved back to Mexico where he shortly died after: my mother was heartbroken-what was she to do? A 16 year old little girl manipulating a man into breeding her, marrying him, and utilizing his resources which he earned with his blood? A little girl having lost who was perhaps her one true love? Or so she “thought”...

The divorce was ruthless, or rather, my mother was ruthless as she threatened to have my father and his siblings deported should he try to fight for custody. My father’s siblings encouraged my father to do what was necessary for us but with the possibility that he could also be deported and very likely never see his two sons again, what was a man to do?

It’s utterly damaging for the ego of any man to be emasculated by any woman especially a 21 year girl you truly believed to have loved and even having married after a hard life of poverty in a small town from Mexico where men are notorious for keeping their women in check. For a man’s ego to be damaged there is only one way he can redeem himself and that is through waging war on whomever dared to damage such an ego; unfortunately for my father he was not back in Mexico, he was in the US where the wrath of man is punishable with the means of prison-it was not only my mother by whom he was emasculated by but the law and order of the republic; so much for freedom of will.

It didn’t end here; my mother was ecstatic about her new found “liberation” going out to clubs and bars with her friends, free of the “religious fanatic” my father was (and it’s true that he is indeed a religious fanatic, a Christian to be exact, but don’t think so highly of my mother for she enforced and lived by the same values and morals as he does, she had merely done so with different spices and fragrances), it was also during this time she especially began drinking heavily, very heavily; there were days when she’d be slumped over her bed bottle hand whilst my father came for my brother and I only to be met with a locked door with no way in except for breaking and entering: my brother and I would beg for the embrace of our father through the window, crying for his affection and play, locking eyes with our father through the window; our mother didn’t care so long as she had us in her grasp, rationalizing her stupidity as her “living her youth,” as if enjoying your youth demands the abandonment of all responsibility.

My mother eventually met another man soon after my father, perhaps even during; he was a black man with a short fuse of a temper against us all, but even more so against my brother and I. This new man of hers would go on to physically beat my brother and I, tossing and dragging us across the room, beating us with a closed fist as he would a grown man; the beatings were so bad he’d send us back to our father with massive bruises all over our bodies, bruises our father would take pictures of in hopes it’d help his case in court-it didn’t. My father was enraged with my mother and demanded she leave the man but she stuck by his side until the end of kindergarten even going so far as to make a father of him-for my little sister.

Throughout the years my mother had done everything she could to erase the memory of all that had happened, laughing it all off as though it was nothing when we’d bring it up with her, often chalking it up to the folly of her youth-except it didn’t end there.

Shortly after my sister’s father she found another man who she married-this one was actually good but he was far bigger than my sister’s father and black all the same-I associated him with my sister’s father and despised him ruthlessly throughout their entire marriage: he was a genuinely caring and affectionate father despite our difference in blood, but it was too late by the time I embraced this of him. Towards the end of their marriage which went on from my first grade year to the summer before starting high school I grew closer with my then stepfather as my mother would often be gone for days off with her friends and her new lover; she had been cheating my step father for a year and a half before they had split apart: he was a younger Indian man whom she helped attain a green card.

This new boyfriend was also a good man at heart, but because he fell for my mother’s malice I despised him and though I wasn’t as ruthless with him as I was with my stepfather I still kept my distance; it was throughout this relationship my mother expressed her love more openly for him... there were nights when she’d shamelessly fuck him hard for all the neighborhood to hear as she moans, groaned, and cried his name, making the entire house shake-our rooms were right next to each other and I ruined all my friendships during this time so there was no friend to turn to then.

There came a day when people were warning the two of them they weren’t right for each other for whatever reason; my mother decided to say fuck them and so we all moved to another over night, back at her home state with her brother in his apartment with his son-his son was okay.

It was during this time I laid conscious witness to the wrath a woman is capable of, most notably my mother; this boyfriend of hers was not only more gentle natured but also an immigrant whom my mother helped attain a green card; my mother’s drinking increased ten fold, puking in the toilet every morning became a routine for them both; fucking for everyone to hear became the norm; my mother was extremely obnoxious I trying to be one of the guys during this time.

Over time my mother had progressed from mocking and humiliating her boyfriend in front of her brother to shaming his religion, his family, and his character (notice how she coaxed him into the distance from his family), to all out punching him in his sleep demanding that he go do the fucking laundry. We heard everything-how she’d slap, scratch, punch, call him a bitch, a faggot, a dumbass man-there were times she’d brag about being able to get any man she wants as men only care for one thing (she was beautiful in her youth but that has long since faded).

Eventually her boyfriend began working and when he had enough money he ditched her completely calling her at the greyhound station at midnight as he awaited his bus; my mother didn’t have a car to go fight him, she was powerless: she resorted to a low growl demanding that he come back to her, that he won’t leave her, that he can’t leave, that they were supposed to get married and have children, that he better get his fucking ass back her NOW!

He stood his ground and I admired him for it.

Throughout the weeks of her grief my mother my mother go through days drunkenly sobbing about wanting to slit her wrists and blaming us for it.

My mother eventually found a job and got an apartment for us all; she went back to drinking and seducing a man from work whom she had written poetry about (we read her diaries).

Eventually there came a day I had gotten kicked out of an alternative school for having slit my wrists; throughout a six month period I spoke with a therapist which she detested as I exposed the truth of her ways to therapist with her there in frustration of following her orders on pretending everything was fine so as to get back into the school but I didn’t care. I knew the school was done with me and I with them.

The following months were tense between us especially being 18 at the time and seemingly doing nothing with my life except for wallowing in self pity (it’s true, I was).

Eventually the tension amounted to us having a massive argument, the neighbors below were terrified and called the police, my mother called her brother to come over and kick my ass, I was arrested for disturbing the peace and after having made the dumb decision to plead not guilty I was finally released after nine from the help of one of the fellow inmates.

The world did not look the same, I felt lost, I felt pathetic, I didn’t know what to do or where to go, what was I doing with my life? Why am I doing this to myself? It was only worse after having walked back home only to find all my belongings were tossed to the wayside in sake of their leisure.

I broke down and contemplated suicide over and over again until I had finally called the hotline for my therapist; they invited me over and I spoke with a couple women who assured me they’d let my therapist know of everything going and if there was any way they could help, I decided I’d be fine and that I’d come in the next day.

My mother and I argued that night: at this point I thought “fuck it, I’m done letting anyone walk over me again: I’m not taking their shit anymore even if it costs me my life.” My mother demanded I leave, I refused, she called her brother to come kick my ass; after sometime she packed up with my sister and left, picking up my brother from his job along the way. After a few hours I heard a knock, I crept my way to the peep hole to find a hand covering my view; I could hear from the creeking in the stairs that there was more than one other person there, most likely their little brother. They’d knock for a few minutes and then kick the door before leaving, doing this throughout the entire night; I sat in the kitchen with all the lights off crying to myself how done I am with them, how ready I am to fight back as hard as I ever have should they break through the door. I knew as soon as I opened the door my uncle would have beat and raped me though not kill me, I knew he’d easily over power me but I wasn’t going down without a fight.

The next day comes and I decide to hell with them all; I leave the city never to look back.

It didn’t help that throughout this time my girlfriend at the time had disappeared due to a bout of her own sorrow, I didn’t ever think she’d come back.

I was far more dominant in my youth especially with a cousin I had fallen in love with (the love was mutual) but by the time I had fallen with my girlfriend whom I would be with for three years from the age of 18 to 20 I had become notably softer in my handling of women-this was compounded when I was slapped with the reality of the real world, the world I had been sheltered from all my life, for much of it anyway.

I was afraid of falling behind so I worked the first job I could at some restaurant dwelling in petty quarrels.

I believed the only way to survive was conforming to their ways, your ways, the way of the corporate state; I was lost and only knew I had too much potential to squander but no understanding in how to guide it.

The relationship between myself and my then girlfriend was intimate and affectionate; she eventually came back and I forgave her unconditionally; we were a long distance couple and after a couple years of saving (piss poor spending habits on my behalf) I finally journey across the country to meet with her for the first and it was more amazing than I anticipated it could be; meeting her truly cemented in me the belief (or the knowledge) that a soulmate truly does exist, that some things truly are meant to be.

Later that year it turns out she’s turned out (she’s gay); it wasn’t a revelation she was willing to share with me openly; she was still processing her sexuality (she’s lived in repression which was only compounded with her eating disorder, purging), but I wanted answers so I coaxed it out of her; she didn’t cheat on me but she had a crush which she em felt excruciating guilt for as her crush was her brother’s girlfriend. I was understanding and forgiving but even so I was conflicted with feelings of cuckoldry and inadequacy as I felt a failure of a man for having been so naive as to have turned a blind eye to many of the signs which had vied for my attention before (she was never into having sex with me, always only saw me as cute, wasn’t really attracted to other men, tried getting me to break up with her after expressing remorse for having flirted with another man, and reacted with hot excitement after showing her a picture of the cousin I had fallen in love with.)

I’ve regretted it ever since but I pushed her away for the sake of my pride.

She truly did love me, she truly was a lover in spirit and I’ve ruined it.

I had reached out to her several months later with a letter but she never responded; I don’t blame her, she deserves more than a flimsy-hurried letter.

I believed that pushing her away in favor of my family was what I needed; I believed that I could heal my family, that could make us whole, that I could help us all become more than what we are, that we can overcome this together as a family, but I was wrong, I was so wrong.

I played the forgiving role, sweeping everything under the rug with them at first; but that didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t want any of us walking on egg shells around each other and I certainly didn’t want us living in denial of all that had happened.

There came a day when I wanted to express my rage and I wanted them to listen; my mother was defensive and my father was offended; I decided to hell with them both and so it’s been that ever since.

I know not every woman is like this, but what are the odds in finding another woman-my “ideal” woman? It is foolish to impose ideals upon others and especially myself, ideals are for the naive. Much of the women who could be considered my type are usually in the mind of a safe, corporate life with a salary and college education: I despise the corporate state and especially the education system which is no place for knowledge but only doctrines: my passions and ambitions are too barbarous for these women and the odds of finding someone like my last girlfriend are quite slim, she truly was exceptional (there’s also the fact that gay and straight women are fundamentally different, it’s a difference I find shocking and painful but true nevertheless, straight women are far more shallow than the gays); I’ve tried to date around, I’ve met and gotten to know people-the amount of people only interested in casual sex is mighty disheartening as I very much desire a strong and committed relationship in which we grow with each other but it becomes ever more clear that the only thing straight women care for is their submission to power: they truly do not care for anything else of a man unless he’s able to dominate them and make them his slut: in every woman is a slave and a tyrant; give her liberty and she will tyrannize you; make her submit and she is yours. The only women who claim to admire depth in a man only do so because the man in question is in truth just an illusion of a fever dream as he’s yet to embrace his own sacred masculinity-those “men” they desire are no men at all but the Frankensteins of a civilization in decay.

I will not live as a lecher as I value the soil and the body lest I enable and contribute to the degeneracy.

I’ve decided to embrace my chastity; I don’t know if the key will ever be found by another, another worthy of the key, perhaps I will, perhaps I won’t, but I know the path of degeneracy is no path for me; but what of the men? Will they not look down upon me? I will force my will upon them.

#spirituality #nietzsche #nietzche quotes #mommy #mommyhood #mommylove #mommasboy #wisdom #philosophy #memorial #reprise #revenge #vengeful #powerpoint #powerfood

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rosybucky · 5 years

Text

No Longer a Man Out of Time

Summary: Steve’s last scene rewritten

Words: 3535

Warnings: none

A/N: this is the second time I’m posting this because tumblr deleted all my text the first time when I tried to edit the tags :))))))) I shamelessly wrote what I wanted Steve’s endgame ending to be like and cried just a little bit. This is also the first fic I’ve posted to tumblr so please roast me gently

“Go then,” Bucky says, smiling. Steve looks up at him, surprised. He was just talking, just wondering what if. He definitely didn’t expect Bucky to encourage his idea. “Go for the both of us.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, “I can’t.”

“Why not? What you do in the past won’t affect the future.”

“But what about our friends here? What about you?” Steve looks up at Bucky, their eyes meeting.

“I can get by on my own,” Bucky says, trying to sound as genuine as possible. In reality, he doesn’t know that he’ll be okay. Steve is his only lifeline to reality, to who he was before he was nobody.

“That’s the thing,” Steve says, remembering a time when he was younger, so much younger. “You don’t have to.”

Bucky smiles tightly at him, remembering too, a murky image of a downtrodden Steve flickering in the back of his mind.

“I don’t know if I’ll be okay without you,” Steve confesses. Even when he had nothing he had Bucky, in one form or another. The idea of not having him now, permanently, petrifies him. He doesn’t know how to exist without him, never has. They followed each other into war, ended up in the future together for god’s sake and now he’s just going to leave? He can’t.

“Come with me, please. It can be the two of us again, like old times,” Steve pleads.

Bucky looks at Steve, a strange expression on his face, resigned but happy still.

“Steve,” Bucky says in the tone of voice one that he heard so many mothers use to speak to their child that didn’t understand why their father wasn’t coming home from the war. Soft, like he’s trying to soften the blow he knows will be devastating. “I can't go back.”

“Why not,” Steve asks, silver rimming the bottom of his eyes.

“That time, that world, it isn’t for me,” Bucky says, the words burning his throat and tongue like poison as he says them. He doesn’t like to admit that he’s become so far removed from James Barnes that going back would feel like he’s taking over a stranger's life. But it’s the truth. “The man I was, the man my mama and sisters expect me to be, James, that’s not me anymore. I don’t want them to look at me with that disappointment in their eyes when they realize I'm not the Bucky they knew. Christ, Steve,” Bucky continues, confessing the truth that eats him up inside day and night, “I can hardly remember their faces anymore. I can’t be the man they loved, and it would be cruel to waltz back into their life a stranger and expect them to love me just the same.”

“Bucky,” Steve pleads, “I know your mama, she’d take you any way she could have you. Your sisters too.”

“Maybe,” Bucky concedes. As Steve starts to protest, Bucky cuts him off. “But there’s no need for me anymore. You’re not the same scrawny kid that gets into fights he can’t win, you can take care of yourself. You don’t need me anymore,” Bucky says, a melancholy smile forming on his lips.

Steve looks at him, a sorrow in his face that Bucky's only ever seen a handful of times. Once for Steve’s father, another one for his mother. To wipe that expression off of his face Bucky almost tells him he’ll go back too, but he stays quiet. “Is this the end of the line, then?” Steve asks, genuine terror in his voice.

Bucky lets out a short laugh, not mocking just...a little bit amused that those few words still mean so much. “No, never. It’s just a small pause so you can go live the life you deserve, Stevie. With the girl of your dreams and the family you’ve always wanted. A boatload of kids and a white picket fence. A dancing partner that you’ll never have to let go of even when the music ends.”

For so long his only mission was to find Bucky and now that he has him he can’t believe he’s going to let him go so easily. But a part of him, small and yearning, is crying out for a moment of rest, a moment of normalcy between the chaos that has been his entire life. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever had a second to rest since he came back into the world, and now he feels the weight of that all at once. As Steve stares at his hands, wondering if this is really what he wants to do he realizes. What if the world needs him? What if something else, something bigger comes to destroy all those he’s come to love? In that moment, Steve understands what Atlas felt like. But what if he just shrugged?

How can he leave? How can he not? His jaw clenches and unclenches as the debate rages inside him. It’s selfish, it’s absolutely and entirely selfish. And yet...doesn’t he deserve to be? He looks at Bucky’s face, who's looking at him with pleading in his eyes.

Steve nods, smiling. He can see it all now and his heart aches with want. “Okay,” he finally says.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, making sure he heard him correctly. He’s filled with an intense happiness. As if it were his own story that was getting a happy resolution. This is the best way this could have ended and he’s happy that at least one of them can find the peace they deserve.

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” Bucky replies. His voice gets quiet as he says, “And Steve…?”

Steve lifts his head, looking up at Bucky.

“Say hi to my momma for me, will ya? And my sisters too. Tell them…” Bucky países for a second, swallowing the lump in his throat. Their faces are blurry now, faded with the years and the things done to his memory, but he’s always remembered what it was like to be loved unconditionally. And for a brief second he considers changing his mind, going back so he can feel that warmth again. But he can’t. He remembers what it was like to have a family but he doesn’t remember the family itself. Those women, his mom and sisters would be just as foreign to Bucky as he would be to them. And despite his most selfish desires, Bucky can’t bring himself to do that to them, to make them love a stranger.

Bucky takes a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears in his eyes. “Tell then I love them, so much and I never forgot about them. Please, take care of them for me? Drop by every so often, and make sure they're okay?”

Steve nods. “You know I will, Buck. I doubt your mama's gonna let me leave once she realizes I’m back.”

Bucky laughs, remembering how his mom practically adopted Steve once his parents died. He’s sure it’ll be like her own son came back, better even. “Thank you,” he says hoarsely.

“Ready!” they hear Bruce shout from the machine.

Slowly they look back at him, as if they’re both just realizing that this is the end.

Together they toward the machine where Sam and Bruce are waiting. Bucky watches as Steve tells Bruce he’s ready to go.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” Steve says walking back to him, a small grin crossing his face.

“How can I,” Bucky asks, remembering the words from what feels like a thousand years ago. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” And yet even now, they feel familiar. Steve feels familiar. Different of course, they’re both different now, but as Steve embraces him, Bucky swears he can feel the prominent ribs and gangly arms of the kid in Brooklyn too proud to run from a fight.

Bucky watches as Steve steps into the platform, getting ready to go back. “I’ll miss you, buddy,” he tells him.

Steve looks at him, a glint in his eye, sorrow. Then a sad smile crosses his face and he’s gone.

A few seconds pass and Bucky waits with bated breath.

“Where is he?” Sam asks, looking to Bruce.

“I don’t know, he flew past his entrance,” Bruce explains as he presses buttons and flips switches on his panel.

Bucky looks around, having heard the sound of a body landing on wood a few seconds ago, too quiet for Bruce or Sam to pick up. His eyes land on the figure sitting on a bench, facing away from them.

“Guys.”

Both men turn to look at Bucky then at Steve. Sam hurries over to him and they speak. It’s quick and before long Sam comes back and begins taking to Bruce.

As Bucky approaches his confusion grows. He can see that Steve’s hair is still a shade of dirty blonde, his shoulders still broad and powerful, albeit sagging forward as Steve rests his elbows on his knees and clasps his hands together. He looks the same.

“Stevie?” Bucky asks quietly, gently.

When Steve turns to look at him Bucky suddenly understands it all. Steve looks the same, but he’s different, changed. There’s a look in his eyes, that Bucky recognizes instantly because he’s seen it in his own face so many times. Steve looks weary for all the world. To anyone else, to Sam and Bruce, he looks identical. But Bucky recognizes the bags under his eyes, the haunted look that's taken residence in the depths of those baby blues. He sits down on the bench, one knee sticking out far enough to touch Steve’s. A simple point of contact, a way to let Steve know that Bucky's here with him.

“I went back,” Steve says.

Bucky turns to look at Steve, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “And?”

“I went back,” Steve repeats. His hands tighten. “And I found her. I went to the dance hall right on time. And we danced all night. I explained to her what I could, about the stones, about the future, all of it. She understood most of it of course,” Steve chuckles, “She was always so brilliant, of course she understood it. I told her I would love to be her dance partner, if she’d still have me. She said if she said no there was a line of about a thousand girls willing to say yes.”

Bucky smiles, knowing how women used to fawn over Steve once they realized he was Captain America, and sometimes before.

“She said yes. And I tried, Bucky I really tried. To enjoy that life, that time, but I couldn’t. I tried to make it work with Peggy, tried to get a job as a firefighter.”

“Even then, you couldn’t stop helping people,” Bucky notes.

Steve chuckles, “I knew you’d get a kick out of that.” He’s quite for a second before saying, “I also went to see your mom. She’s the one that gave me the idea.”

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat.

“I tried to explain to her too, but I couldn’t explain all of it. You understand.”

Bucky nods, thankful that Steve spared her the painful details.

“She told me she’d accept you in any way, but she ‘knew her stubborn Jaime’ and that if you didn’t come back then it was for the best.”

A sob rips free of Bucky’s mouth against his will. It burns like fire, clawing its way out of his throat and into the world. He had completely forgotten that his mom called him that. That she was the only person who had ever called him that.

Steve looks at him, eyes gleaming too. “She told me to give you this.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out two small squares. He holds them out and Bucky takes them with trembling fingers. It’s two pictures that pierce straight into his soul. One is of his family. His mom and sisters all together, so vibrant and full of life. Big grins outlined in lipstick and hair pinned back in a style Bucky remembers took eons to perfect. The other is of him and Steve. Scrawny, skinny, lanky Steve next to Bucky.

“That second one-” Steve says, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show it to anyone else. It kind of ruins the illusion.”

Bucky barks a laugh, surprised and infinitely amused. Bucky runs his fingers over the faces of the women. Distant memories shove their way into the forefront of his consciousness, reclaiming their place in his mind. He takes the pictures and puts them into his pocket, still running his fingers along them unconsciously. He looks at Steve, waiting for the rest.

Steve turns somber again as he continues talking. “But every night when I’d go home I knew couldn’t stop thinking about the future. About everything that would come to happen regardless of how much I tried to stop it. I tried to work, to live that life, to fall in love. And...I couldn’t. I couldn’t just ignore all those people that would need my help.” Steve pauses for a second. “You know, when they pulled me out of the ice they called me the man out of time. They told me the world had moved on without me...I never imagined that I might have also moved on without it.”

To go back to everything he’s wanted for a century, only find that he no longer wanted it, Bucky doesn’t even want to imagine what that feels like.

“That world, that time...it wasn’t for me. Peggy knew it too,” Steve laughs softly, “I went home one day and she had the suit sitting on the couch. She told me that I wasn’t meant to be there, that my time was here, now. She said that all she wanted was for me to be happy and she could see that there, with her, I wasn’t, not really. Not like I thought I would be. So, I said goodbye to everyone, went out with Peggy for one last dance, and came back.” Steve wipes his eyes, his breathing ragged. Everything, he feels like he just lost everything all over again. He swallows roughly, the lump in this throat searing as it is pushed back down his esophagus.

Bucky sits next to him in silence, the weight of a century lingering around them.

“I saw it,” Steve says after a long minute. His voice is raw and pained.

Bucky turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Saw what?”

“What it would have been like for another Steve Rogers, one who didn’t go in the ice. Some small mercy I suppose from whatever power the stones had. Steve marries Peggy and has a boatload of kids, names his first one James.”

Bucky’s eyes shine as he looks at Steve.

“You were there too,” Steve continues.

“Was I happy?” Bucky’s voice is ragged now too, thick with emotion.

“Absolutely,” Steve says, his lips moving up in a tragic smile. “You had a heap of kids too, troublemakers with bright blue eyes, all of them your splitting image.”

Bucky releases a breath, a choked sob following it. He wills his lip to stay firm and mourns.

“But it wasn’t us,” Steve says, “Not really. It was a different Steve and a different Bucky. It was what could have been.” What we deserved, Steve thinks but doesn’t say. Why add more kindling to the fire fueled by their losses?

“Well,” Bucky says, trying to find the small glimmer of hope in this shit show they call a life, “whatever universe that James Barnes exists in, I hope he’s always happy.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, “Me too.”

They both look out toward the water, trying to imagine themselves in that other universe. The weight of their sacrifices hangs heavy between them, a more deafening silence than that of a grave falling over them.

“What’ll you do now?” Bucky finally asks.

“I don’t know,” Steve answers honestly. “I-I don’t know,” Steve tried again and fails. For the first time in his life he has time, he can go anywhere, do anything, and it’s suffocating. “When I was back in time I was so grateful because I could finally be just Steve Rogers. But...I didn’t know who he was anymore. I’ve spent so long in the suit, carrying that shield, that it became who I am. Even when I was back in time, with everything I’d ever wanted sitting in front of me, all I could think of was that shield sitting in my attic, waiting to be used. But if I’m in the suit, them I can’t be Steve. And I want to be. I want to get to know Steve Rogers again.”

Bucky looks at his friends, eyes soft. He knows what that’s like, wanting to get to know this person whose name you share. He felt like a stranger in his own skin for decades and some days he still does, but he’s grateful to have had the time to get to this place. He desperately wants that for his best friend too.

“I had a support group you know,” Steve tells Bucky, pride in his voice. “We meet every week, just a couple of us, talk about how to move on after everything changed.” Steve smiles. “I think I needed it as much as they did.”

“Why don’t you keep it going then?” Bucky asks, “They probably need you more than ever now.”

“I can’t,” Steve tells him, his own frustration growing. “I’ll be too busy trying to stop the next threat, I’ll always be too busy.” Bucky watches his friend’s shoulders slump forward once more.

“I don’t want to be Captain America again, not ever,” Steve confesses. Just saying it makes him fill with disgust. This gift he was given, this power that no other person has had or will ever have again, he should love it, appreciate it, be on his knees giving thanks for having been blessed with it. It saved his life, more than once. “But leaving the world without him, I don’t think I could do that either.”

“What if you didn’t have to?” Bucky says.

Steve’s eyebrows knit together, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Bucky says, unzipping the shield from the bag it’s carried in. Steve averts his eyes and the familiar red and white stripes come into view. Bucky looks at it, his confidence in this idea growing. “Like you said, it’s just a suit, a shield. Anyone can wear it. What if you gave it away, passed the torch?”

“To who? To you?” Steve asks, his face uncertain.

Bucky laughs, “No, god no, Stevie. I’m pretty sure you can’t be America’s golden boy when you’ve done even half the things I have.”

Steve lets out a soft laugh, “No, I suppose you can’t. Who then?”

Bucky turns to look behind them both. Sam and Bruce as talking about something, the former making the latter roar with laughter. When Steve looks back at Bucky there’s hope in his eyes. As Steve watches Sam he feels his breaths come easier. Yes. This he can do.

“Ok,” Steve says, smiling so brightly Bucky’s sure his face must hurt. Bucky returns it, feeling the same way that he did anytime he helped Steve in back alley scraps. Like he’s finally done his job and protected him. “And who knows,” Steve says, “Maybe one day I’ll go back. When the serum has run its course and I’m ready to live one final lifetime. Once I’m too old and gray to be of any help here and the fate of the world doesn’t depend on me anymore.”

“I sure hope so, Stevie.” Bucky says, although he knows Steve won’t. Steve will fight until his very last day, until the last breath leaves his lungs. It’s what made him worthy, what made him a good man. Bucky knows and Steve knows it too, but neither of them say anything. Let them bask in this fantasy for just one moment. They know their only respite from the fate of the world, universe now, will come once they’re well and truly gone, buried under the earth they tried so hard to save. They only time they’ll get to stop and smell the roses will be once they can see their families again, in whatever world comes after this one.

Steve turns back to Sam, watching as Bruce explains something to him and Sam tries his hardest to act like he understands any of the science Bruce is talking about. Steve laughs and Bucky turns to see what he’s looking at, then laughs too.

“Why don’t you go grab him for me?” Steve asks Bucky, “Before Bruce realizes that Sam has no idea what he’s been saying for the last ten minutes.”

“Glad to,” Bucky answers, hauling himself up. He’s been on the receiving end of Bruce’s science talks before and knows what it’s like. The man is brilliant but often forgets that not everyone else is too. “Hey, Sam!” Bucky calls out once he’s close enough.

Sam looks at Bucky gratefully. “Yeah?”

“Old man wants to see you,” Bucky says, lifting his hand over his shoulder and pointing a thumb at Steve. “Has something he wants to ask you.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #endgame #avengers endgame #fic #fanfic #bruce banner #sam wilson #marvel #mcu

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doctorgerth · 5 years

Note

Good luck with the blog dear!! I am cheering for you! 💜 Here is my request, how will X Drake behave when he meets the woman who once was his superior when he was a marine and theu had a relationship back then (not fully romantic, more like something physical). Now she is a infamous pirate. Please make it a scenario if it is possible. I hope this makes sense xD (Ai)

I know this is old, but still, thank you so much, Ai! To be quite honest, idk what the fuck I just wrote for you lol X Drake is an interesting character, but was a bit of a challenge since we hardly know anything about him. I hope I portrayed him to your liking. Also, I know you never stated it, but I kinda went a lil nsfw-ish at the end? I hope that’s okay. If not, I will gladly change it! Either way, I hope you enjoy this! x

*Putting it under the cut, as it is a bit lengthy!

Running into a Former Lover (X Drake)

Seeing her waltz in into the bar was immediate nostalgia. A rush of emotions, emotions he hasn’t felt in years, flooded his entire being. He eyed her shamelessly for a while, making sure over and over again that it was indeed (Name) he was seeing right in front of his eyes. Craning his neck for a better view, his heart skipped a beat once the divine eye contact was made at last. X Drake was a rather apathetic man, but he couldn’t hide or deny the fiery rush of blood that tinted his entire face once she recognized him.

“Drake? Is that you?”

He had spent a good few minutes just staring at the woman, begging for her to notice him. But now that she was walking his way, a cheesy smile accentuating her face, he wanted nothing more than to flee this place at breakneck speed. What would he say to her? What would she say to him? Her smile was inviting, but surely he was setting himself up for trouble if the Marines were here.

X Drake stood from his chair, a respectful stance he grew accustomed to while working alongside his former Marine superior, (Name) years ago. She was a Vice Admiral, and he was her Rear Admiral, her right hand man. The two were quite the pair back in his Marine days.

“(Name).” He acknowledged her flatly.

Her pace seemed to quicken as soon as her name rolled off his lips. Only he could make her name sound like that. It was him! She couldn’t contain her excitement as she trotted over to her former partner, thrilled to see him as it had been years since their last time together.

X Drake stood still, was she there to arrest him? He had been extra careful as to not cause any trouble the past few days. My, what a sight it would be for her of all people to retain him.

“As stoic as ever.” She smiled up at his indecipherable demeanor. She always found that side of him intriguing. (Name) had lost count of the times she spent observing him, wracking her brain for any knowledge as to what this unreadable man was thinking.

Her smile and playfulness made his tight lips crack ever so slightly into a wistful smile. Still as beautiful as ever, he thought to himself. But he wouldn’t dare say such words out loud for everyone to hear. Just before his mind had wandered, something peculiar caught his eye.

“Is that a Jolly Roger?” His left brow raised high, surely she was working undercover for a mission of some sort? Nevertheless, there was definitely a pirate symbol on her coat. One he had seen before, but couldn’t quite place a name on.

An even bigger, prouder smile graced her lips, “Yep! I’m officially a pirate, just like you!” Though she was his superior, she enjoyed acting like she was the one who looked up to him. She always said that it was a means to inflate his ego, but he knew it was her way of teasing him.

“My my, (Name). What happened to fighting in the name of justice?” He couldn’t hide the amused smile any longer, his hands resting at his hips dramatically. He was indeed proud of her, but was he supposed to be? Why had she left? She was a Vice Admiral! He knew how tedious and difficult it was to achieve that rank, let alone abandon it.

She simply shrugged her shoulders in response, “We always talked about how flawed the system was. I grew tired of the mundane missions that got us all nowhere. I’m not getting any younger, so I decided it was time to take a risk! Live an actual life for once.” Her confident laughter filled the room, and though the bar was as full and lively as moments ago, all he could hear was her; everyone else had faded away, “I had seen you in the papers and…”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping up with me?” A satisfied and cocky grin stretched from ear to ear on his face. It was her turn to blush now.

“T-that’s not what I…”

“You did always enjoy living on the wild side.” Drake pointed out, going back to their main conversation. Remembering the life-risking adventures they frequently went on together, he had to admit, life with her was definitely thrilling. She knew how to keep him on his toes and he admired that about her.

“I always enjoyed it with you, anyway.” She admitted honestly, almost to herself, but he had heard. A quickened pace began thumping in his chest at her confession.

The two had subconsciously sat down at the table they were talking by, Drake’s crew getting the hint to relocate while (Name)’s men remained close by, talking amongst themselves at a table within sight. A waitress plopped down a couple of beers and the two began reminiscing, picking up right where they left off.

* * *

“Oh? So you’re the captain?” Drake sneered, feeling more and more comfortable by the second. He could always let his guard down around her, effortlessly.

(Name) sloshed down the rest of her drink, slamming the cup down, “Damn straight I am! Who the hell else would it be? Can’t trust these men to lead each other. It’s like the blind leading the blind!” Her drunken laughter sounded like music to his ears; the kind of song you wanted to listen to on repeat.

“Men need a strong woman in their life. They are lucky to have you.” The words just flowed right out, and his sincerity caused her face to heat up. She brought the mug to her face, attempting to hide the evidence of her embarrassment. Drake smiled to himself, catching sight of her adorably flushed face, knowing there was nothing left in that mug.

“W-well how about you then? Have you met anyone?” She was scared to know the answer, but she couldn’t waste another second in the dark. Had everything truly been lost between the two?

Drake shook his head, “Can’t say I have found anyone to settle with just yet.” His arms stretched to rest casually behind his head, “One too many options.”

Her eyes widened. Was he serious? Had her chance been shot? She was searching his face for any evidence of jest, but his face was as unreadable as ever! Would she ever learn to crack his codes?

It was no surprise he’d have hoards of women clawing at his feet. He’s always been so handsome and charming. Her head felt heavy as it began to stoop.

“Kidding.” He muttered blankly, “Only kidding.”

(Name)’s head shot up. Her flustered, furious face causing an entertained chuckle to escape his throat.

“Oh, haha, very funny. I’m sure you’re quite the bachelor.” Her eyes rolled dramatically to the back of head.

Coming down from his laughter, Drake looked down into his drink, the remaining liquid reflecting his hesitant face. “What about you?”

(Name) was always an independent, head-strong woman. Most men would fear her type, but never him. Drake adored her fighting spirit, her determination, and her immense care for others. He hadn’t realized that until his absence from the Marines and his absence from her.

“Not for me. I’m far too independent for any romance.” Her (e/c) eyes drifted to a downcast angle; she was no longer looking at him. She looked upset and he was willing to do anything to bring that smile he loved so much back to her sweet face. He had wondered if something happened during their separation. Surely she had met someone along the way? Silence filled the table, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. The boisterous noise from the bar crowd coming into earshot yet again, until her restrained voice brought him back to their own little world.

“It’s really been a while…” She whispered, reminiscing on the days when they were most dynamic; not only on the battlefield, but behind closed doors as well.

“10 years.” He retorted matter-of-factly.

She smiled, he had remembered, “We were so young then. So desperate for some kind of connection with anything other than duty.”

Drake’s brows furrowed, causing his infamous frown to return. His body stiffened forward with his hands resting on the table, “You were my duty, Captain.”

(Name) bit her quivering lip at his formalities. He hadn’t called her that since 10 whole years ago. She did not expect such a simple title, one she was most definitely used to by now, to get her flustered so easily. Sobering up, her shaking hands found his that was resting atop the table. The need for contact was intense between the two as he never faltered, simply allowing her hands to settle on his casually. He didn’t realize just how much he missed her touch until her ever soft skin sent him reeling to their past passionate rendezvous together. This touch was different however; innocent, longing.

“It’s been too long…” (Name) trailed off, subconsciously joining Drake on a journey into their past.

They were indeed younger back then. Things were hardly ever more than physical for the pair. Their desire for each other had threatened to overrule their desire for justice, because they were that desperate to feel something. Thinking back on it now, it was amazing they were able to work together for so long, since they were quite terrible at hiding their affection.

Working as a Marine was stressful, especially being a Vice and Rear Admiral. Satisfaction was practically a must to make it through the tough times, and luckily, they always found relief in each other. They knew their passionate nights together were numbered. What they hadn’t expected was to miss each other once their time was up. All the things they regrettably overlooked in each other, became the things they craved for in other people during the 10 long years. But, the connection with strangers could never be formed, as Drake and (Name)’s connection had only grown stronger during their absences.

It was a subtle connection, one they thought about occasionally, that caused them to pray silently to whatever god was ruler of their fate; they needed to see each other, just one last time. Were they given that chance, they promised they would do better that go around. Now, as fate would have it, they were here, holding hands in a random bar while reminiscing on what was behind them. But was the past truly the only chance they had together?

“I shouldn’t have left you like that, (Name).” Drake admitted, sheer regret dripping from his words.

(Name) nodded, forgiving tears swelling in her eyes, but she wouldn’t let the dam break. Drake squeezed her hands in his, offering a reassuring smirk.

“Any way I can make it up to you? Say it, and it’s yours.”

She looked at him while slowly leaning in. To anyone else, the pair just looked like they were having a nice conversation. But she knew the true meaning behind his words. She instantly noticed his sincere smile twisting to something devious, seductive. His eyes sparkled; that same youthful sparkle that always tempted her in the darkness of her room.

The pair looked over to their respective crews who were each drunk and in their own worlds. They could sneak away easily, just like old times. The rush made both of them nervous, yet excited. But they were pirates now, they could do whatever they wanted.

“I can think of a few ways.” She whispered, inches from his face now.

* * *

They found themselves entangled in endless bouts of passion later that night. Though nostalgic, the night was far from any others they had experienced in their past. They had matured and at last accepted their deep-rooted, irrevocable love for one another. X Drake made many confessions, apologies, and declarations of love to his lover that night. Their fervently intertwined bodies drifted off to a peaceful slumber, ending their sensual night with the promise this wouldn’t be their last.

#one piece #one piece request #one piece scenario #scenario #x drake #x drake scenario #former lover #anon #anon request #ai

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hale-of-stiles-heart · 7 years

Note

Hi! For the prompts, how about situation 2 + quote 15?

Situation 2: 2. i’ve been checking you out every time i see you jogging at the park and oh no what are you doing why are you coming over here?? + Quote 15: 15. “I thought this was going to be much easier than it actually is.”

Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you like it! (also on ao3!)

Stiles may have had a problem. May. And, of course, by may he meant that he most definitely had a problem and it was progressively getting worse.

It had all started three months prior when he had started to frequent the local public park directly across the street from the sheriff's station where he usually ate lunch. With a gaping four hour hole between his morning history class and his afternoon forensics class, he had decided to start bringing his dad a salad or a veggie burger for lunch.

He always made sure that he spared a few minutes to snoop around his dad's office for any contraband junk food, checking every nook and cranny from between the couch cushions to under his dad's desk. He usually rooted out a few Twinkies, which he promptly threw into the trash can, and a couple packages of Reese's, which he always pocketed for himself.

It was only after he performed his search for junk food that he would hand over whatever lunch he had made for his old man who, without fail, rolled his eyes at him every time. The rest of the officers in the department thought it was hilarious. The Sheriff? Not so much. He just wanted to eat his candy bars in peace.

He always packed himself a lunch as well so he could sit and eat lunch with his dad, hoping to show some solidarity by eating whatever healthy meal his dad ate. Considering how high his dad's cholesterol levels and blood pressure was, he didn't want to tempt him by flaunting a nice juicy, beef burger in front of him while he munched on veggie burgers and carrot sticks.

They spent their time swapping stories about how their day had been so far, occasionally gossiping about who had gotten arrested for shoplifting or yet another DUI. Mrs. Martin was an incorrigible kleptomaniac and Mr. Lahey was the unofficial town drunk, the latter of which proving that the Sheriff was right to remove his sons from his custody a decade ago.

Deputy Graeme would occasionally poke her head in to inform the Sheriff that he had another conference to go to the following week or had a meeting with the mayor, but most of the time she darkened the doorway to tell them to stop gossiping. Stiles would just roll his eyes and ask how her daughter was doing at Berkeley, smiling innocently at the deputy until she cracked a smile and claimed her daughter was doing great.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and the half hour allotted for the Sheriff's lunch break eventually passed. And so, Stiles had to leave to let his dad get back to protecting and serving the good people of Beacon County.

Typically, after eating lunch with his dad, Stiles would simply walk across the street to the park, having roughly two and a half hours left to kill before his next class. He knew from experience that if he went home to relax before class, he would inevitably fall asleep and skip his class altogether.

It was a fate he would rather avoid since his dad wasn't spending thousands of dollars for him to nap. So instead, he would bring a book or a journal or a pair of headphones with him over to the park to help him pass the time until his next class.

His favorite spot was smack dab in the middle of the park, by the huge stone fountain that rose high above the surrounding rose bushes. Rainbows often flashed in the mist from the cascading water that bubbled placidly like some river out in the preserve, only serving to amplify the paradise-like feel of the fountain.

He would spend hours by the fountain, either sitting on the stone lip of the fountain or a bench nearby, letting the sound of the rushing water calm him down. To help the time pass more quickly, he would doodle in the margins of his psychology notebooks or listen to one of his various study playlists as he basked in the warm of the spring sun.

But as much as he loved the park itself and the fountain that had become his go-to spot for stress relief, there was only one reason why he kept coming back every day, even when he didn't have any classes. That distinct honor was one model gorgeous man whom Stiles only knew by the moniker he had given him: Hot Jogger.

He realized the name wasn't all that creative but no other name he had come up with had the same ring to it. Besides, what it lacked in originality it made up for in accuracy.

Because Hot Jogger was just that; the hottest jogger Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. And he had grown up watching Baywatch. (It was still considered a jog even if it was in slow motion, right?)

Hot Jogger was easily the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen with his dark, tousled hair that was almost artfully mussed and gorgeous eyes. He wasn't quite sure what color they were as Stiles had only admired him from afar, but they were dark and intense, set under a pair of thick black eyebrows.

His high cheekbones looked like they were carved in marble by the gods themselves, dusted with dark stubble that boasted a few tiny spots of silver under his chin. Speaking of his chin, he had a cleft in it that was partially covered by his stubble along with his dimples that made adorable indents in his cheeks when he smiled.

And what a smile he had. It was like watching the sun burst through a thicket of gray clouds when Hot Jogger smiled, his beautiful face becoming even more radiant than usual as his lips parted to reveal immaculately white bunny teeth.

Altogether, Hot Jogger looked like he should be modeling for some kind of high-end agency that had billboards plastered all over New York City and Los Angeles and Paris. And that was just because of his face, not to mention his body.

He was around Stiles' height, if anything an inch or two taller than him, but his physique was worlds away from Stiles'. Where Stiles was pale and lanky, he had the most beautiful sunkissed skin and a body that would make any porn star green with envy.

His upper body itself was a work of art, a fact that Stiles only knew because of Hot Jogger's apparent affinity for jogging without wearing a shirt. His shoulders were broad as was his chest that had a light sprinkling of dark hair over it, centered in the very middle of his chest.

A drool worthy trail of hair led down under his waistband from beneath his navel. It ran down over his washboard abs that redefined what a six pack should look like.

He had biceps that looked bigger than Stiles' head, though they weren't overly vascular in the way that many bodybuilders' were. His forearms were lightly haired, as were the backs of his hands that looked oddly gentle despite his intimidating stature.

His legs were masterpieces, as well, his calves well-defined and somewhat hairy, hairier than his arms at the very least. And his thick, muscular thighs looked capable of crushing a man's skull.

But what had really captivated Stiles was Hot Jogger's ass. It was easily the most glorious ass Stiles had ever seen in his twenty years of life, perfectly round and tight looking. Seriously, he was pretty sure that he could bounce a quarter off of that ass and he wanted to fucking worship it.

So, in all honesty, Hot Jogger was singlehandedly the only thing that consistently brought him back to the park. Besides lunch with his dad, of course.

Stiles had started coming to the park three months ago when his spring semester had officially commenced and he had once again become a slave to his school schedule. After sharing a Caesar salad with his dad who had loudly complained about Stiles not letting him have any dressing, Stiles had meandered over to the park.

He had taken a seat on a comfy wooden bench by the jogging path that twisted its way through the park, finding a nice spot in the early spring sunshine, a chill still in the air. He had been tugging a paperback novel out of his bag, glancing up at the sound of a dog barking, when he caught his first glimpse of Hot Jogger. His jaw had nearly fallen off.

Hot Jogger had been doubled over as he tied his running shoes, further along up the path. Normally someone tying their sneakers wouldn't have been very interesting to him but something else had caught his attention: the sight of a perfectly round ass straining against the black nylon of a pair of running shorts.

Stiles had been helpless to resist shamelessly ogling the man's backside, instantly ensnared by the thrall of a great ass. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he ended up actually drooling on himself as he stared. Especially since he wasn't the only one who had been staring.

The mere sight distracted middle aged soccer moms in their yoga pants and Uggs, interrupting their gossiping over Starbucks lattes. They completely ignored their kids who were tumbling around in the grass in favor of ogling the jogger's wondrous ass. Not that Stiles could blame them.

There was a gaggle of girls who looked to be high school aged, seemingly skipping class to go galavanting around town, chattering away about the most recent rumors plaguing the hallways of Beacon Hills High. They froze in their tracks when they noticed Hot Jogger's ass, their faces flushing as they giggled like little idiots.

Stiles had ignored both groups of women who gazed almost predatorily at the poor jogger who was just trying to tie his sneakers. Suddenly feeling guilty, Stiles had averted his eyes, trying to refocus on the book in his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed the jogger straighten up and run a hand through his sweat damp black hair. It was then that he first saw the jogger's face and fell face first into a pathetic crush on the handsome stranger.

With high hopes of seeing the unworldly gorgeous jogger again, Stiles returned to the park the following week after eating lunch with the Sheriff. He wasn't disappointed.

Picking a different spot, this time by the fountain that would become his favorite place in the park, Stiles had doodled in one of his notebooks. He had absentmindedly drawn whatever came to mind, from the irises that grew along the jogging path to random nonsensical doodles, while keeping his eyes peeled for the hot jogger.

He hadn't been disappointed. A few minutes after arriving at the park, Stiles caught sight of Hot Jogger across the field, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

He had been wearing ear buds, his phone secured to his upper arm with a black armband that matched his black running shorts that even shorter than the ones he had been wearing the previous time Stiles had seen him. That time, his shorts only fell a little bit further than halfway down his thick thighs, showing off the amazing bulk of muscles that glistened with sweat.

As sure as he was that those thighs could kill someone, Stiles wanted to have them wrapped around his neck, even if it meant he might suffocate to death. He was about ten seconds away from starting a religion in the name of those thighs.

He was also about ten seconds away from coming in his pants. Especially when he just so happened to notice the fact that Hot Jogger wasn't wearing any underwear.

Needless to say, Stiles made sure he added 'go to the park' to his mental to-do list. He didn't always see Hot Jogger when he visited, which was a bit of a letdown, but reasonably he knew that the modern day Adonis had a life outside of jogging half naked around the park.

Unfortunately, today seemed to be one of the days when Hot Jogger was absent from the park.

Stiles had only had a morning class, his psychology lecture that started at eight a.m. sharp and dragged on for two hours, which gave him more time to cook lunch for his dad. He grilled some chicken breast and put it on some whole wheat bread with some tomato and avocado, wrapping it up along with a side of roasted veggies.

His dad had grunted and groaned when Stiles plopped his lunch down on his desk before starting his examination of the office. Unwrapping his sandwich, the Sheriff had insisted that he didn't have any contraband food in his office.

Stiles would have liked to believe his dad but he knew all about his father's predilection for junk food. He ended up finding a mini Reese's cup behind one of the picture frames on his dad's desk.

Feeling rather magnanimous, Stiles had simply sighed and handed the piece of candy over to the Sheriff. He firmly instructed his dad that he was only allowed the one piece, reminding John that he had no reservations about recruiting the rest of the sheriff's department to keep him from consuming any more junk food.

They chatted for awhile, about Stiles' psychology class and some of the calls his dad had gone on earlier, until the Sheriff's lunch break was over. With an extra skip in his step at the prospect of seeing Hot Jogger again, Stiles had made his way out of the station, saying his goodbyes to the deputies on duty.

Embarrassingly eager, Stiles jogged across the street to the park, seeking out a nice spot in the sun by the fountain. Not many people were around, the only others at the park a few elderly women on a bench, preoccupied by feeding some pigeons bird seed.

Stiles had expectantly glanced around a few times in search of Hot Jogger, hoping that he didn't look like some kind of weirdo. But Hot Jogger was nowhere to be found.

Admittedly, he was pretty disappointed, chewing his lip as he scanned his eyes over the park, paying special attention to the jogging path in hopes of seeing Hot Jogger stretching his legs or pausing for a drink of water. But he just shrugged and let out a small sigh, shifting his attention to his cellphone to check his email and his text messages.

He answered a text from Erica about going to a party over the weekend, informing her that he might drop by for a couple hours if nothing else came up. Scott had sent him a text to detail his most recent with Allison, summarizing the plot of the new romantic comedy they had seen. Stiles just replied to his message with a smiling emoji.

With nothing better to do other than go home and laze around watching TV while munching on his own hidden stash of junk food that he kept tucked in his underwear drawer, Stiles decided to linger in the park. It was a bit chilly, winter's frost still hanging over the little mountain town, which explained why park attendance was noticeably down.

Stiles didn't mind, wrapped up in a thick flannel over his Batman t-shirt, nice and cozy despite the cold breeze that rustled the still bare branches of the trees around the park. He considered walking over to the Starbucks situated at the corner for some hot chocolate, but he balked at both the length of the line and the exorbitant price.

Instead, he pulled up an app on his phone, passing some time playing Magikarp Jump. He was about to beat yet another league when something compelled him to look up from his screen.

Across the park, on the jogging path, was none other than Hot Jogger. The mere sight of him, running along the path in a t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts, made Stiles' heart race like he was some kind of Victorian maiden catching a glimpse of her favorite suitor.

Stiles quickly averted his eyes before Hot Jogger noticed him staring, getting caught much more likely without the usual throngs of people all about. He refocused on his game, feeding his Magikarp a couple more times.

But the tempting allure of Hot Jogger was too much for Stiles to resist for very long and he found himself stealing a few peeks over the top of his cellphone. Hot Jogger looked like he had only just begun his run, his hair still perfectly styled rather than messy and wet with sweat, his skin looking dry.

In the pale sunlight, he looked even more ethereal and angelic than usual, bathed in misty light as he jogged along the winding path. Stiles was mesmerized, forgetting all about the phone in his hand as he turned his full attention to the gorgeous god of a jogger.

He didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he was staring which is why he suddenly became terrified when Hot Jogger turned his head to look directly at him, slowing his pace until he was no longer jogging.

Stiles' throat instantly tightened, making him feel like he was choking, panic clawing through his whole body. In a desperate, futile attempt to hide, Stiles lifted his phone and stared blankly at the screen, his Magikarp drifting aimlessly around its pond.

His mind raced, playing out all kinds of horrible scenarios. He hunched his shoulders and tried not to shudder at the possibility of his own father having to arrest him for some sort of public indecency charge.

Logically, he knew that ogling a jogger was just creepy, not criminal. But that didn't stop the ice cold dread that churned in his stomach at the thought that Hot Jogger was probably heading towards him to pummel his face into a bloody pulp.

"Hey," a voice greeted out of thin air, startling Stiles so much that he let out a loud, embarrassingly high-pitched squeal as he jumped, nearly dropping his phone. Wincing at his own humiliating flailing, Stiles raised his head to look around for the source of the voice.

He didn't have to look very far. Hot Jogger stood by his side, a warm smile brightening his face as he looked down at Stiles.

"Uh, do you mind if I sit here?" He asked politely, pointing a finger at the lip of the fountain to the right of where Stiles was sitting. He dropped his hand and waited for a few moments before scratching the back of his head, tacking on, "If you don't mind, of course."

"Uh, oh!" Stiles mumbled, shaking his head as he slowly processed Hot Jogger's words, belatedly realizing that he should probably respond. Scooting over a few inches, Stiles waved his hand in the general direction of where Hot Jogger had pointed, inviting, "Yeah, man, go for it."

Hot Jogger took a seat with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair as he did, mussing it until it looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Stiles tried not to notice how good it looked, keeping his eyes firmly planted on his shoes.

"I'm Derek, by the way," Hot Jogger announced, drawing Stiles' attention away from his dirty sneakers. Hot Jogger, or rather Derek, was smiling at him, his dimples visible beneath his dark stubble that was looking fuller than usual.

"Stiles," he responded, smiling back at Derek, desperately hoping that his smile didn't look too forced or fake. His smile became a little more genuine when he noticed the way that Derek's eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Stiles' name.

They fell into silence after the short introductions, awkwardness hanging in the air between them as they looked away from each other. Stiles twiddled his thumbs as he absentmindedly watched a tiny flock of birds hop around in the grass in search of hugs, beyond glad that Derek hadn't approached him to confront him about his creepy staring.

Before the thought had time to finish crossing his mind, Derek cleared his throat. Stiles froze, his thumbs pausing in midair as he braced himself for the worse.

"Um, so..." Derek started, scratching the back of his head again, Stiles noticing the motion out of the corner of his eye. He paused, swallowing heavily and licking his lips, before trying again, claiming, "I've been thinking, uh..."

He trailed off again with a frustrated sigh, piquing Stiles' curiosity. Stiles turned to look at Derek just in time to see him scrub a hand over his face as he muttered under his breath, "I don't know why, but I thought this was going to be much easier than it actually is."

"Everything alright, dude?" Stiles asked cautiously, the sight of Derek looking so distressed tugging at his heartstrings. He nibbled his lip as he threw caution to the wind and reached out to rest his hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing gently.

It seemed to work reassuring Derek as he dropped his hand onto his lap and turned to face Stiles. Taking a deep breath, he blurted in one rush of air, "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Stiles had to blink a few times as he tried to process Derek's unexpected, unbelievable words. He opened his mouth a couple times, before closing it, having some trouble formulating a response. Finally, he just asked, "Uh, I'm sorry, what?"

Derek's face immediately fell. The corners of his lips turned down in disappointment, his eyebrows scrunching together.

Realizing that his question could be misconstrued as a harsh rejection, Stiles raised his palms as he desperately tried to correct himself, "Wait, that's not what I meant! I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"Well, it's just that I've seen you around the park for the last few months," Derek explained, keeping his eyes down as he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, showing off a flash of his abs. He was adorably flustered, a flash of red coloring his cheeks as he scratched his chin, reminding Stiles of a shy little puppy who wasn't sure if they are allowed on the couch or not.

"I've been thinking about asking you out for awhile," Derek claimed, a small deprecating smile twisting up the corner of his lips. "But I too nervous. My sister finally told to just ask you already."

"Your sister sounds pretty smart," Stiles remarked with a wide grin, shifting to sit a few centimeters closer to Derek.

"Yeah, she really is," Derek confirmed, nodding sagely. A proud smile stretching across his face, he commented, "Graduated top of her class at Harvard. She— Oh, wait—" he sharply raised his head to look at Stiles incredulously "—Do you mean... You actually wanna go on a date with me?"

Stiles nodded, laying his hand on top of Derek's. Feeling a red blush fill his own face, Stiles smiled up at Derek, trying to figure out a way to tell him about the little problem he had, about his habit of watching a specific hot jogger.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a problem. After all, it had gotten him a date with a veritable Greek god.

#sterek #sterek fic #alternate universe #human au #jogger!derek #runner!derek #college student!stiles #pining!stiles #implied pining!derek #awkward!derek #first meetings #getting together #my fic #fic #dearesthale

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smuttyfairy · 7 years

Text

Mine (M)

gif credits to Smuttyfairy

Summary: When your shower-drying session gets cut short and you’re left with nothing but a towel, Jungkook couldn’t help but indulge in his thoughts when he saw you. He opened his mouth to speak what was on his mind just before you ran off to your room and slammed the door shut, only to have your fretting thoughts interrupted as Jungkook entered the room uninvited with eyes darker than sin.

Genre: smut w/ plenty of dirty talk c:

Insert Versions: Noona | (Y/N) |

Word count: 5613

Written by: Admin Smuttyfairy & Admin Kookfairy

A/N: So this scenario is based on a dream I had long ago in which I did tell Admin Kookfairy about to which in turn she made this soft, innocent & somewhat comedic dream into a turn for the dirty. The dream was basically me having friends (BTS & others) over and at some point I go and take a shower, get kicked out of the bathroom by my friend’s older brother (played by Yoongi in this) and find Jungkook sitting outside in front of my room to where I freak out inside because I’m in nothing but a towel and then I go to my room and see the mess that it is and freak out more. Then I wake up. LOL. At the time I didn’t think to write out the dream in any way but since I had almost forgotten it completely I considered the idea of it. So here it is now, my fluff dream + Admin Kookfairy’s rude words inspired this scenario to fully be written. We hope you all enjoy another collaboration of ours. ~ Admin Smuttyfairy

P.S. How many times have you seen “Mine” as a title??? xD (def fitting for this scenario)

You sighed as you watched Jungkook from afar competitively play video games with Taehyung. The both of becoming rowdy and taunting with each other in a match of Overwatch. Although it being your home and having friends over, you couldn’t find yourself to get comfortable around Jungkook. Of course, you’d glance a friendly smile at him every now and then, but your pride didn’t allow you to be highly interactive with him; Nothing that would give him the idea that you have feelings for him. You wanted to avoid it all and make sure it wasn’t obvious in the slightest that you liked Jungkook. But of course, the one person with dark, short, gray strands of hair and deep-dimpled cheeks sitting next to you who knows you best sees you sparing a longing glance at Jungkook knows those feelings exist.

“Ya, (Y/N)!” Namjoon slaps you with a pillow. “Stop it! I can see you drooling.”

You jumped out of your trance. “What?! I wasn’t drooling!” You slapped him back with the pillow.

Namjoon laughed and shook his head at you. “(Y/N), when are you going to let loose and just tell him you like him?”

You rolled your eyes. “Pft, I don’t like him.” Although the way you said that wasn’t in a convincing tone.

Namjoon looked at you, un-phased by your words. He leaned closer to whisper something secretive. “You know…I heard he was into older women,” he teased with a mischievous grin.

You looked at him in disbelief. “That’s bullshit, Namjoon.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You’re in denial, (Y/N). If you could just get the balls to confess how you feel about that kid, you’d easily score yourself some dick.”

Your eyes shot like daggers at Namjoon’s. Faster than lightning, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close to your face. “You wanna die?” You threatened in a hushed, husky tone.

“Alright, alright,” Namjoon laughed. “I’m sorry. I went a bit far on that one.”

You gave him a deadly stare that could be read as “I should kill you right now” as you released his collar and stood up from the couch. “I’m going to take a shower and pretend you didn’t say any of that,” you stated simply, walking away quickly, long before Namjoon could make up another comeback for you.

As soon as you entered the bathroom and closed the door behind you shut, you turned the knob of the shower on, adjusting it to the right temperature. You placed your towel on the counter and removed your clothes before hopping in, just in time when the temperature of the water became right.

While combing your fingers through your wet hair and taking in the heat of the shower that soothed your body, your mind couldn’t help but cross the thought of Jungkook and your feelings toward him.

Jungkook who is nothing but a mere 19-year-old child that shamelessly quotes his favorite player off the game Overwatch. Jungkook who fearlessly teases his hyungs, and eats spicy ramen at night only to regret it the morning after. This boy whose face was that of cuteness and innocence yet when performing and showcasing his talents on stage, he showed a much different and darker persona that always had the ladies easily swooning for him. Shamelessly, you admit it made you weak in knees to watch the way he moved those sinful hips of his. He was perfectly built, perhaps better and slightly bigger for his young and still growing age. Jungkook who possesses muscles, rumored abs, and thighs so thick they could crush a watermelon. While his sense of fashion is quite simple, him in solely an oversized black Stussy T-shirt and ripped blue jeans was enough to send you over a cliff. He was most definitely attractive and charming in every way. His whole entire existence and being were created to perfection with little to none flaws.

On top of being physically attractive and seemingly “cold,” Jungkook’s personality wasn’t just that. He was always nice, very polite, and gentleman-like toward you. While you seemed to distance yourself away from him, Jungkook seemed to always come to you. When you and the boys had gone out to eat at a restaurant that was in walking distance from your home and the night happened to be a bit chilly, Jungkook saw the way you shivered and hugged yourself to keep warm. He openly offered you his jacket, to which you, of course, protested many times until he placed the jacket over you, whispering “Keep it and be warm”, leaving you blushed and speechless by his act of kindness.

The thought of Jungkook alone made you smile a fool. The crush you had on him was no joke, you had to slap yourself back into reality and remember that admitting you liked him in the first place was the first step and that was certainly not going to happen.

And then suddenly Namjoon’s words echoed through your mind.

“You’re in denial, (Y/N). If you could just get the balls to confess how you feel about that kid, you’d easily score yourself some dick.”

Denial. That you definitely were. You’re too stubborn for your own good to even try to comfortably interactive with Jungkook like you want. Just talking casually could possibly give your feelings for him away and you certainly didn’t want that.

But if you confessed…you’d score some dick…? Did Namjoon really have to mention it like that?

You scoffed at his words.

You had to admit, though, Jungkook was undeniably, sexually attractive. You would have loved to get a taste of him in bed. Hearing his soft moans as you teasingly licked at his cock, his hand tangled in your hair as you engulfed him in your mouth, his hips twitching when he was close to releasing his sweet seed. The thought of it all sent shivers down your spine and a warm, tight knot that formed in the pit of your stomach began to hurt.

You groaned and shook the thoughts away. There’s no way that could possibly happen. You had no chance.

Finally, after much thought and a nice, hot shower you turned it off and stepped out of the tub, careful to not slip from the water that dripped down your body to the floor.

A couple minutes in drying yourself off, you hear a few knocks at the door.

You wrapped the towel around your body, answering the door to find Yoongi behind it with a seemingly blank stare.

“Can I help you…?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Get out,” Yoongi stated to your surprise, pushing the door open far enough that he welcomed himself in.

“W-what the heck, Yoongi! Are you serious?! YOU get out!” You protested.

“Sorry. I need to use the bathroom,” Yoongi grinned happily as if this were all on purpose to get under your skin. His hands on your shoulders as he successfully pushed you out of the bathroom, shutting the door right in your speechless, jaw-dropped face before you could protest further.

“Asshole,” you cursed under your breath.

Yoongi had slammed the door in front of you, leaving you there dumbfounded, not really knowing what had just happened. You scoffed before turning around to see Jungkook standing there, eyes wide. But before you could react you watched how he slowly licked his lips and how his eyes darkened, taking in your practically naked body. You quickly pressed yourself against the wall in an attempt to hide your bare bottom from Jungkook’s eyes as your face turned red. You felt hot under his eyes and it took everything in you to not grab him by the neck and kiss him right then and there. But you refrained. Keep your cool (Y/N), keep your cool.

“Noona, you look-” You didn’t wait for him to finish as you scurried off into your room and quickly shut the door to keep any dignity you hadn’t rung out of your towel yet.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the thought of Jungkook seeing you like this. Was this the first time for him to see you like this? It was, wasn’t it? With the way Jungkook had looked at you with those wide eyes at first and then darkening while he licked his lips. Did you really see that happen? Or had that been a figment of your own imagination of what you wanted to see happen? Did he like what he saw? Was that even real?

But he did speak. Or attempt to, before you cut him off by running off to your room and slamming the door shut.

You sighed deeply and stared at the state of your room. It was a mess. Items of clothing scattered on the bed and on the floor, your bed undone, the bras and thongs that laid on your bed from your recent laundry cleaning dump. Your hands clasped your hot cheeks. “Oh no,” you thought to yourself. “Please, tell me Jungkook didn’t see all of this.”

With Jungkook just idly standing outside in the hallway, only a few steps far from your room, you couldn’t possibly help but think he did get a good look of your room and the whole sight of the lacy lingerie dispersed on the bed. Despite this being a minor event of embarrassment you still couldn’t help but stack it on top of your already embarrassed state with the events of Yoongi kicking you out of the bathroom before you could even get dressed, only to just so turn and see Jungkook in that 10-second time frame. Your thoughts ran wild on what Jungkook could be thinking right now.

You were still so baffled. Why the heck did Jungkook have to be right there and then? Your cheeks continued to burn with embarrassment as you remembered the way Jungkook looked at you. The way his innocent eyes darkened and how it felt like they ate you up in those few seconds of just being there. You couldn’t help but want to so badly take him then and there. To grab him by the neck and kiss his soft, sweet lips, caress his bulge in a teasing motion, and make him moan, “Noona,” as a way of letting you know he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

Your thoughts ran a mile a minute until they halted at the sound of the door clicking open. You quickly turned to find Jungkook stepping into your room and quietly shutting the door behind him. Your jaw dropped at the sight of him. His eyes dark, pupils shot in a wide diameter, his demeanor unsettling, yet exciting.

“J-Jungkook, do you even knock?!”

Your jaw quivered slightly, as you took a step back, watching as Jungkook licked at his bottom lip ever so slowly, his darkened brown eyes delving deeper into yours.

“Jungkook, what are you-”

“You know, Noona,” Jungkook began, his eyes continuing to pierce into yours as he watched you falter steps back for every step he took toward you.

“That little show you put out there…it gave me very dirty thoughts.”

With the many steps you had taken to back away from Jungkook, the back of your knees had finally touched the edge of your bed.

“Those thoughts…left me very horny,” Jungkook’s voice turned husky as his face became only inches away from yours.

“I think you need to be a responsible Noona, and take care of that for me,” he spoke in a deep whisper, looking hungrily down at your lips and then back at your widened eyes.

Your mind went completely blank. Had Jungkook really say that to you? My gentleman-like Kookie being replaced with this sexually, cocky Jungkook. Jungkook had wasted no time in getting a grip on your towel as he maintained eye contact with a smirk and ripped the offensive covering, leaving your bare body on display. Your jaw dropped with surprise and as much as you wanted to scold and beat Jungkook, you felt so…frozen.

“Noona, you were very naughty for having such a small towel on…” Jungkook spoke in a mildly scolding tone as his hands ran their way up from the side of your thigh, trailing his fingertips past the curve of your hip and waist and up your bare shoulder where he cupped your cheek. “What if one of the other members had seen you like that?” He cocked his head to the side and eyed you with concern.

“None of them are allowed to have you like I will,” Jungkook whispered, gently pulling you in and connecting his plump lips with your neck. Your eyes fluttering close as he feathered kisses all over in an attempt (a successful one) to rile you up, making goosebumps run down your spine in response. You automatically sank into Jungkook as he held you by the cheek, his other hand around your waist. Soft breaths escaped past your lips by the action of Jungkook’s own lips generously leaving wet trails on the nap of your neck.

Jungkook pulled back from the position, your eyes fluttering back open to see him with an assumed and cocky expression. His one hand still cupping the side of your face while the other brushed your bottom lip in a slow fashion that made you shiver with want.

“You’re all mine Noona, is that understood?” Jungkook smirked, his voice husky and deep, waiting for your reply as you contemplated in the thought of giving yourself over to this new Jungkook you hadn’t met before.

Was this really happening? You couldn’t believe how hot and needy you felt all over from his words and how undeniably wet and turned on you were. Every little word, every move, every little look and twitch of his lips Jungkook had just made toward you caused painful twists in the pit of your stomach. With your body hot and bare like this, and a need for satisfying the hunger Jungkook caused you, you became incapable of denying such an event to happen. A switch inside of you clicked, as you watched Jungkook flashed a smirk on his face as he waited for your reply.

You excitedly licked your lips and nodded, your eyes blown wide as much as Jungkook’s with lust and hunger. In perfect timing, you and Jungkook crashed your lips into each other, hungrily devouring one another. You both nipped at each other’s bottom lips, tongues craving for more while your arms quickly wrapped around one another, hands tangled in hair. The both of you desperately bringing your heated bodies much closer.

Your fingertips grazed down his back and played with the hem of his shirt before ripping it off. You discarded his oversized black tee onto the floor and stared at his rippling muscles in awe. You knew Jungkook had been going to the gym with the other members, but you never noticed his large biceps and perfectly sculpted abdomen. You wanted to lick every inch of him, his lips, neck, body…his mouth-watering, hard cock, to which you subconsciously found yourself reaching for his jeans. You had undone the button of his jeans when Jungkook swatted your hand away.

“No, Noona,” his hand found its spot on the small of your back, pushing your body in closer to his, face just in kissing distance from yours. “I’m the one in control tonight,” he whispered seductively just above your lips, staring deeply into your eyes as if that were a commanding statement.

You tried to push away from him but his strength on you didn’t budge. “Jungkook, I’m older than you! You can’t boss me around like this!” You protested.

Jungkook’s face was no longer inches from yours as he smirked at your words, ignoring them as his hand reached for the base of your head to give a better angle as his mouth leaned for your supple neck. He licked at your sensitive skin before moving on to leave his mark, kissing and nipping in that spot. As if it were a reflex, you softly moaned from the sensation of his sucking as he promptly left a red mark on the side of your neck.

“Noona…it doesn’t seem like it bothers you that much when I’m in control,” Jungkook giggled, making sure to lick his lips in a slow motion for you to watch.

Before you could even open your mouth to protest further, Jungkook pushed you onto the bed. He cocked an eyebrow and grinned, watching the way your chest fell up and down, how your breasts were perfectly shaped, and how cute it was the way you tried to hide the bare views of your core with your knees bent to cover the sacred area.

“Noona…don’t hide from me,” Jungkook cooed, his fingertips trailing from the base of your ankles to the top of your knees ever so carefully before forcefully pulling them apart from each other to reveal your gloriously, wet core. Jungkook looked at how much your core glistened with your essence, how easy it would be for him to slip his cock deeply inside of you. He threw his head back and groaned at the sight. Jungkook wanted to so badly take you right there in that instant but restrained himself as he wanted to play with you more, make sure you knew you were his and that he was the one in control.

You shyly eyed him, watching as he licked at his lips yet again. “Noona…” Jungkook started, his fingers trailing down your inner thigh to your core, his eyes never leaving yours. Your heart raced in anticipation as his fingers finally reached the area you wanted him most, touching you so delicately yet the action of just his two fingers against your core sent your back arching off the bed. “You’re so wet,” Jungkook spoke lowly, his eyes still stuck on yours as he brought his two fingers coated with your essence to his mouth, lewdly sucked on them while his eyes fluttered close. He softly moaned at the taste of you, pulling his fingers from his lips with a pop and licking at his lips to capture any drop of you that was left.

“Noona, you taste so good,” he moaned, crawling onto the bed, his eyes dark with hunger as he hovered over you. “Here,” he whispered, leaning down just above your lips, staring at them and then back into your eyes. “Have a taste.”

Jungkook brought his lips to yours, giving you a taste of your sweet essence that lingered on his tongue. You moaned against his lips, your hips lifting up to brush against his prominent bulge while his fingers tangled into the strands of your hair and your own wrapped over his bare shoulders. His free hand cupped your breast, massaging the soft muscle before thumbing at your nipple bud to which you broke off the kiss and moaned against his touch.

“Does Noona like that?” Jungkook smirked, continuing to thumb in circular motions at the sensitive bud as he watched your face twist with pleasure.

Jungkook began to kiss along your jawline, feathering his wet lips down your neck. “You’re all mine,” he whispered, latching his lips yet again against your sensitive skin to leave another mark on you. “Mine.”

He continued to kiss down your chest, kissing around your breast before enveloping your nipple with his mouth, sucking and twirling it with his tongue, causing you to whimper while his hand still massaged on the other. Jungkook took his time to pleasure your body as his other hand lightly grazed it’s two fingers down your body, making invisible spirals and lines all the way down to your core in a teasing motion. He loved how your body felt under his; hot, slowly beginning to build with sweat from just his touch, how your chest began to fall up and down in a rapid motion, how your hands desperately clung in his hair and on his neck while you moaned and whimpered his name. It was an addicting sound to hear escape past your lips, driving him further to touch you more, please you more with the work of his hands and skill of his lips. He loved it all, riling you up like this, claiming your mind and body as his so that no one else could have you.

Jungkook’s fingers finally reached your heated core, taking no time to tease up and down your soaked slit. You whimpered at his touch, to which he giggled, lifting off of your breast.

“You’re much more wet, Noona. Is this all because of me?” He innocently cocked his head to the side as he waited for your reply.

You nodded, eyes half-lidded as you bit at your bottom lip. “Jungkook, please,” you whined, lifting your hips up for him to touch you further into your core.

“Please what, Noona?” Jungkook teased, cocking his head to the opposite side in a yet again, innocent matter.

“Please touch me,” you begged lowly, attempting to catch your breath as you looked into his darkened, chocolate eyes.

“Only because you said ‘please’, Noona,” he smirked, slowly dipping his fingers into your soaked core while bringing his lips to yours, hushing your moans. Your core was unbelievably hot, so soaked with your sweet juices as Jungkook thrusted his digits in and out, gradually increasing his pace, while your moans grew much louder against his mouth and body squirming under him.

“Noona is so dirty,” Jungkook giggled, watching as you twisted with pleasure from his touch.

“Do you like being touched like this?” His fingers thrusting faster rubbing against your bundle of nerves, while thumbing at your clit.

“Y-yes,” you managed to breathe out as your heart pounded rapidly against your chest. You moaned and arched your back while clenching the bed sheets as Jungkook’s fingers worked against the nerve fibers within your core, bringing you that much close to your undoing. He watched your face twist and turn, attempting to catch your breath, moaning breathlessly and more rapidly. He knew you were close.

You held your breath as the muscles of your core began to clench around his fingers and the vision in your eyes began to cloud. You were just moments away from your high when Jungkook forcefully pulled his fingers out of your core, a sliver of your sticky essence followed, leaving you empty with a bundle of ache and pain in the pit of your stomach.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?!”

Jungkook laughed at your reaction before licking his fingers of your juices clean. He briefly jumped off the bed and tugged at his jeans, removing them and his boxers to which his cock sprang free from the constricting clothing. You immediately moaned at the view of Jungkook’s muscular bare body and the way he stroked himself a few times just enough to make precum seep from the tip. You wanted to so badly taste him, to slowly stroke him yourself, feeling how hot and how hard he was in your hand, how sensitive he must be if you got the chance to lick the tip of his head, making him shiver before deliciously taking him whole in your mouth.

The sound that escaped past your lips caught Jungkook’s attention to which he smirked, slowly crawling onto the bed where hovered over your body once again. “You think I’d let you come that easily, Noona?” Jungkook asked you, lifting your thigh up a little as he ran his cock against your wet folds, making you squirm and whimper under him. “Oh no, no, no,” he teased. “You can’t come without me.”

He held his cock against your folds, moving them along the slickness of them while he asked you a quick question. “You’re still on the pill, Noona?”

You nodded to answer him and with a sly smirk, Jungkook forcefully thrusted himself into your core, making you scream from the short-lived pain while his large cock stretched you out and adjusted to the feeling of you around him.

“God, Noona…how are you so tight?” Jungkook moaned, his eyes squeezed shut to savor this new feeling of you around his cock. The feeling was unbelievably heavenly, your walls so tightly wrapped around him he was sure he could come quickly.

Jungkook began his slow and prolonged thrusting into you as he adjusted to your tightness while you reveled in the feeling of his cock in your dripping, wet cunt. “You feel so good around me, Noona,” Jungkook moaned, increasing the pace of his thrusts while earning sweet sounds slip past your lips. “So fucking hot all around me,” he whispered, his neck tilted up with his eyes shut to savor the feeling.

Your nails clawed at his back and moaned his name as Jungkook began to slam his cock faster, harder, and deeper, hitting you in the sweetest spot of your core.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him in closer to reach farther inside you than he already was, while he pulled both your hands off his back and held your wrists together just above your head.

“You’re so beautiful like this, Noona,” Jungkook moaned, his deep, dark eyes boring into yours, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple as he never faltered in his movements against you.

Jungkook loved the way you looked under him, hands held above your head as if you were chained up by the wrists, your beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust he took to meet your sweet core, how fucking sexy it was to hear you moan more and more for his name, how you begged him to go faster and deeper, letting him know you were so close coming. But he remembered he was in control and he wanted to make sure you knew that. He didn’t want you to come just yet, not without him.

“Noona,” Jungkook moaned. “You’re mine, right?” His movements coming to an agonizing slow, yet his thrusts still slammed so deep into you as he waited for your reply.

“Jungkook!? what are you do-” Your retort was interrupted by the forceful thrust of Jungkook’s cock as the tip touched the sweet hilt of your core.

“Jungkook, please…” you begged, purposely ignoring his question.

Jungkook giggled, slowing his thrusts even more to the point that he began to fully pull out of you with each move of his hips, making you desperately yearn and whimper to be filled again with his delicious cock. “Tell me what I want to hear, Noona. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

You hesitated against his words. Was he being serious or was this all a game? Either way the hunger in the pit of your stomach was much stronger, your core longed to be filled so badly of his cock you went ahead without thinking of your reply.

“I’m yours, Jungkook,” you whimpered, aching for his touch and his cock to sink back into your drenching cunt.

“Annnnd..?” Jungkook urged more, his thrusts beginning to pick back up in pace.

“You’re the only one who can fuck me like this,” you moaned louder, reveling the feeling of his cock being fully inside of you. “Please, fuck me Jungkook,” you begged, eyes pleading into his.

Jungkook grinned with satisfaction. “That’s right, Noona, only I can fuck you like this.”

With that, Jungkook’s pace fastened, his cock slamming in and out of you, your hot walls milking him closer and closer to his own high, as he watched your face twist with pleasure once again.

“Noona, you’re mine. Don’t forget that,” Jungkook growled, squeezing at your hips as he forcefully pounded into the deepest depths of your dripping cunt, reaching the sweet spot so quick and so fast within .3 seconds apart in his thrusts that your walls clamped all over his drenched cock and squeezed so tightly, making you scream.

“Jungkook, I’m so close,” you cried out.

“Come for me, Noona. Drench my fucking cock with your sweet coating,” Jungkook moaned.

With one final slam of his hips into your core, you washed all over his cock, drenching it with your sweet juices. After a few more quick movements, Jungkook squeezed at your hips hard, nails digging into the sensitive skin that will surely leave beautiful scars there.

“I’m coming, Noona, I’m coming,” he moaned breathlessly, his hips coming down from a fast speed to a generous slow, his chest heaving for air, mouth gaping open as he tried to milk every little drop of his hot seed into your core, only further marking you as his.

With a deep sigh, Jungkook collapsed on top of you, attempting to catch his breath while his cock began to soften within your walls.

You hesitated whether you wanted to touch him or not, your hands hovering above his head in contemplation. With the current hormones releasing from the sex, combined with your true feelings, you felt it natural to wrap your arms over Jungkook, to which you then felt him stiffen at your touch.

“Jungkook…?” you called softly, pulling your hand away from him, watching as he seemed to stare blankly off into the distance, assumingly processing all of what just happened between the two of you.

Jungkook shifted his weight on you without a word, rolling off to the side of the bed. You continued to observe Jungkook as he stared down at the palm of his hands, his mouth slightly parted open while his face displayed the same blank expression.

You raised yourself up into a sitting position, your eyes beginning to blow with worry while your heart sank in your chest. Had you done something wrong?

“Jungkook, are you o-”

“Oh man, holy shit,” Jungkook murmured under his breath, covering his face with the palm of his hands while he shook his head.

Your face immediately scrunched with concern at the utterance of his words. “Jungkook…talk to me. You’re worrying me!”

“Oh my gosh…” He quickly looked to you, his eyes wide with worry, concern, and what looked like remorse. Jungkook quickly looked away and muffled into the palm of his hands. “I’m sorry, Noona. So, so, sorry!”

“W-what? Why?” You asked, confused by his sudden apology.

Jungkook uncovered his face and stared down at the floor, attempting to find the right words to somehow explain himself. “I-I don’t even know how this happened. I mean, one minute, I was just waiting outside the bathroom for you, and the next minute you came out with that tiny towel and… well, the hormones took over and I had thoughts of the other members seeing you like that and it made me feel angry and protective and the next thing I knew I was in your room and all I wanted was to make you mine so no one could see you…and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” you looked at him with shocked eyes. “Why were you waiting for me outside the bathroom in the first place?” You asked, eyeing him curiously.

“Ah…well…” Jungkook nervously laughed, looking back at you while scratching the side of his head. “I saw the way you and Namjoon laughed and played and I got a little jealous…”

“You? Jealous?” You asked with shock. Jungkook rarely showed off his emotions, yet alone jealously.

He laughed sheepishly. “Yeah…Noona, to be honest…I realized in that moment I had to come and talk to you before it was too late. Taehyung was the one who urged me to grow some balls and tell you.”

Boy, doesn’t that sound familiar.

“About…?” You urged on.

“About me. I came to tell you that I have feelings for you, Noona,” his doe eyes seeming to sparkle.

M-me?” You stuttered with surprise. “Really?”

“Yes…and oh my god,” Jungkook turned away again, his back facing you. “I ruined it. I ruined us, our friendship. Everything.”

“What? Jungkook, you didn’t ruin anything. If anything, you had bigger balls than my imaginary ones, because Namjoon actually told me to do the same thing.”

“What?” He turned to you, his face contorted with a mix of shock and confusion.

“I like you, Jungkook. I have feelings for you. Real feelings. I think about you all the time but my pride would never let me get close to you because I just couldn’t believe you’d ever feel the same.” You began crawling toward Jungkook to get closer, oblivious to the way your upper arms squeezed your breasts together to exaggerate the cleavage.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at your approaching figure, his pupils quickly dilating. “God, Noona…I can’t think straight with you in a position like you’re waiting to be fucked,” he covered his eyes with his hands.

You smiled at his quick reaction and crawled onto his lap, removing his hands that covered eyes. “How about now?” You began to tease, giggling at his surprised expression while you threw your arms over his shoulders and twirled strands of his hair around your finger. “Come on, Jungkook,” you whined playfully. “Tell me how you feel about me. Remind me again that I’m yours,” you teased as your wet folds began to rub against his cock, feeling it beginning to harden against your touch.

Jungkook grinned excitedly at you as his playful eyes further darkened, hungrily delving deeply into your own. He began to hold you by the neck, bringing you closer to his lips while his other hand was placed on the small of your back.

“Gladly, Noona,” Jungkook whispered before smashing his lips onto yours, leading this into a 2nd session of how yet again, you were his.

So did you like it? Like the content? Do you think his character seemed like IRL Jungkook? Let me know!

#jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jeongguk fluff #bts fluff #bts #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios

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