#men in the crowd drawn with literal heart eyes for him

[franeridan]

I've been thinking about this but isn't it amazing that oda makes every single background and side character in op bisexual for absolutely no reason and gives it no explanation whatsoever

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Strip That Down For Me (H.JS)

Word Count : 1.9k

Warnings : drinking, mention of a (minor) panic attack, mentions of half naked men, strippers, swearing, lap dance, suggestive af, sex, literally no plot just stripper Jisung

A/N : I saw a tiktok of a male stripper that looked exactly like Jisung and then this happened. I'm not even sorry. Enjoy!

⚠️Minors do NOT interact with this au⚠️

            This wasn’t her scene. Not at all, not even close. Clubbing is something she expected, clubbing is what she prepared for. A little black dress, matching the others in the bridal party. Celebrating the death of her friend’s singleness, as the bride-to-be put it.

            She was expecting to be bar hopping, going club to club, and drinking far too many shots that she would regret the next morning. Yet she found herself in a strip club, half naked men taking their turns on the pole, and half naked men bringing drinks to tables.

            She felt awkward and completely out of place, wrapping her arms around herself as if it would help her disappear. And then a shot was placed in front of her, one of the bridesmaids smiling at her, holding her own shot. “Lighten up, Y/n. Letting loose for one night won’t kill you.” She held up her shot for Y/n to cheers, so she did. She was right after all. She’s allowed to let loose sometimes.

            The rest of the bridal party was standing near the stage, throwing cash up on the stage, screaming at the strippers that were dancing. Y/n stayed near the bar, helping herself to some more shots, trying to get the liquid courage to enjoy herself the way everyone else is.

            And then he walked out on stage. She was smitten immediately, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He was gorgeous, stunning, the hottest man she’s ever seen. She couldn’t help but ogle him. The way he looked nervous as he walked towards the pole, wide doe eyes scanning all the eyes watching him, but they stopped on her. And it was like time slowed down, like everyone else disappeared and it was just the two of them.

            Once the music began, his eyes left hers, turning into siren eyes that made her heartbeat quicken. She watched in awe as he took to the pole, doing a routine that would leave anyone sweaty and breathless, and yet he looked perfectly fine. Tiny bits of sweat dripping down his body. His perfectly sculped body. Buff arms, a broad chest, a slutty little waist anyone would be envious of. It’s as if he was straight out of a magazine.

            “Someone has a crush.” The bride-to-be teased, brushing her shoulder against hers. Y/n rolled her eyes, telling her she just found him attractive. “So did I, but you looked at him like he was the only person in the world. I got you though, babes.” Before Y/n could ask what she meant, she was calling over the bartender and asking if the man on stage did private lap dances.

            “What are you doing?” Y/n asked through clenched teeth.

            “Getting you some one on one time with the first guy you’ve looked at since you know who.” Y/n couldn’t protest, she had no words, nerves taking over her entire body at the very thought of being alone in a room with the guy she was just ogling like he was a piece of meat and she was starving.

            And in the next moment, she was sat on a chair, the stripper coming into the room, his eyes widening when he saw her sitting in the chair. “H-hi.” He stuttered, his heart pounding in his chest. Out of all the people in the crowd tonight, it just had to be the pretty girl he saw sitting at the bar. He was shaking, but the money has already been paid, he had to go through with it. Give his best, as if she wasn’t literally the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

            “Hi.” She breathed out, swallowing heavily as he walked closer. The music began, but neither could hear it over the pounding of their hearts in their ears.

            He started standing in front of her, dropping to his knees in front of her, his hands on her bare thighs, inching closer and closer upwards, stopping just before the hem of her dress. She had to stop herself from clenching her legs together, biting her lip to distract her from the feeling of his soft hands on her thighs.

            Then he was standing, removing his hands from her thighs as he straddled her, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, willing herself not to move, to keep her arms by her sides. She was dying to know what his body felt like under her touch. But she knew it was against the rules to touch, so she just imagined what it would feel like. Imagined the goosebumps she’d leave as she traced his body, outlined each muscle, pressing her lips to his skin.

            He was trying so hard not to seem nervous. Trying to seem confident, like he’s done this a hundred times before, and he has. But not once has he craved the touch of a client. Wishing she would just break the rules and run her fingers over his skin. Feel the way he contracts his muscles under her touch.

            And as he continued the routine he’s done so many times before, he willed his dick not to get hard. Tried to imagine anything but the girl underneath him, her little black dress inching up her thighs with his movements. Closer and closer to revealing what panties she was wearing. Was she a lacy girl? Thong or cheeky? Maybe she wasn’t wearing anything. And he was dying to find out. Wanting nothing more than to inch his hands up her thighs until they disappear up her dress, closer and closer to her heat, feeling if she was wet for him the way he’s getting hard for her.

            He grinded down on her before he could stop himself, a soft moan escaping both their lips at the seconds of friction. She bit her lip harder, her face heating up in embarrassment, much like his. His eyes met hers again as he grinded down on her again, loving the moan coming from her lips. A moan meant just for him. And he inched his face closer to hers, grinding down one more time before their faces were centimeters apart. He could feel her breath on his lips. Could feel her heartbeat picking up pace.

            Then the song ended, leaving Jisung to jump off her and run out of the room with a red face, and a much too hard dick. She sat there for a few seconds to catch her breath and think about what just happened. She’s never had a lap dance before, but from what she’s seen in movies, that seemed far too sensual to be normal. Did her friend pay extra for that? Is that something you can pay for?

            When she caught her breath, she made her way to the bathroom to clean herself up, removing the panties she was wearing, now with a wet patch, and wrapped them in toilet paper before shoving them into her purse. And she stared at herself in the mirror, wondering how she could have let herself get so lost in him. Wondering how she could let herself fall so fast for someone she didn’t know.

            After splashing some water on her face to cool herself down, she made her way back to the bar, waving over the handsome bartender. “What can I get you?”

            “What do you recommend for someone who wants to forget the last 10 minutes?” She joked with a smile, but Minho could tell she was telling the truth. And he wondered what the fuck Jisung could have done to have her feel like this.

            “Here.” He slid a shot over to her followed by a drink she watched him pour too many different kinds alcohol in. “On the house. You look like you need it.” She thanked him, downing the shot and then sipping on the drink as a chaser.

            “Minho you’re needed in the back.” A slender, puppy-like guy came running out. “Jisung is freaking out over pretty girl and you’re the only one that can calm him down.” Minho turned to look at Y/n with a smirk on his face knowing he’s about to get the whole story. That’s when Seungmin noticed her, his eyes widening when he realized it was the pretty girl his friend is currently panicking over. “Oh pretty girl! You come too. Maybe you can help him.”

            Y/n looked between the two guys, her eyes filled with shock. “What could I possibly do?”

            “Fuck his brains out. I don’t know.” Seungmin said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as Minho burst out laughing, and Y/n almost spit out her drink. “I don’t care what you do. But just do something!”

            “Come on pretty girl. Let me introduce you to the guy that made you want to forget the last 10 minutes.” Minho chuckled, leading her towards the room Jisung was currently pacing in. Minho could hear him mumbling to himself and couldn’t help but chuckle. Jisung really was helpless when it came to girls he liked.

            “Minho hyung thank fuck. I just fucked up with the prettiest girl I’ve ever fucking seen.” He kept rambling about the lap dance, how he got lost in it, not realizing Minho didn’t come alone. Not realizing that Y/n stood just behind Minho, listening to every word, biting back a laugh as she came to the realization that they were both idiots.

            “I don’t think you fucked up.” She spoke up, poking her head out from behind Minho, causing Jisung to scream.

            “Pretty girl! Why are you here?”

            “I’ll leave you two alone. There’s a couch in that room over there if you guys want to finish what you started. Have fun.”

            “My name’s Y/n by the way.” Jisung stood there silent, words caught in his throat. He had no idea what to say. All he could think of was the feeling of her skin, how soft, how warm. How he needed to feel it again.

            “Oh fuck it.” He closed the distance between them, cupping her face, and capturing her lips in a kiss. A kiss that said a thousand words. But most importantly it said I want you right now. “I’m going to fuck you on that couch unless you tell me you don’t want it.” He said, breathless from the kiss.

            She grabbed one of his hands, bringing it down to her heat, allowing him to feel what he does to her. “Does that feel like I don’t want you?” He ran his finger over her clit, watching as her body shuddered.

            “Fuck you’re so hot.” He lifted her into his arms and brought her towards the room Minho told them to use, locking the door behind him, and slowly lowering her onto the black, leather couch sat in the center of the room.

            He took her hands and pressed them against his body, allowing her to feel him up the way he wanted her to earlier. She traced over each and every muscle, the feeling even better than she ever could have imagined. Started with his arms, slowly making her way down to his abs, tracing over each and every one before pausing and looking at his face, inches away from hers.

            “Fuck you’re driving me crazy, pretty girl.”

            “Wasn’t a long drive, pretty boy.”

@mxnsxngie @lethallyprotected @https-skzology @eastleighsblog @abbiestearsricochet @berryblog @th3melthatfell @weird-bookworm @randomwimp @nfrgirl @dreamingaboutjisung @the-lemon-boy @lostwonderwall

[luvlyycy]

twin😋 we need to see Ed's cultural shock when he goes clubbing in america, it's 2000s night at the club, with his chubby reader. She's shaking her hips and twerking in the crowd of people and Ed can't help but to stare. Imagine if Ed has a problem with the idiot standing next to her bc he grabs her hips. I wanna see some bump and grind in the club😋

Bonus points if reader is wearing low rise pants/skirt and a thong. extra bonus points if reader has hipdips. (i fucking love hipdips) you get a brownie point if the thong song starts playing😋😋🫶🏼

DID I GET ALL THE POINTS??? ALSO I LOVE U FOR THIS IDEA THANKKSKSSSS RRRRAAGGGGG (theres no explicit smut in this but its vv suggestive i also recommend listening to the songs featured in the fic when they play cus it works lmao) enjoyyyy <3

Ed stifles a tiny yelp, his arm around your waist as he watches many individuals grind against each other in what seems like dancing, multiple girls bumping into his broad chest.

"are they all like this?" he yells over the bumping music, still astonished by your clothes, you giggle into him and nod yes as his finger dips underneath the thong peaking through your skirt. Ed makes a shocked face before laughing due to nervousness, he looks up again at all the people noticing the 2000's theme.

he finally realizes why you had him dress this way— white tanktop with black wings drawn on the back, along with baggy jeans, simple black bracelets adorning his wrists, silver chain around his neck.

the song 'peaches and cream' slowly coming to an end, fading into the next track on the songlist.

"....this song right here, is lettin' all the ladies know what guys talk about." the singer begins in the song, and Ed watches your face light up, handing your drink to him.

"this is my fucking song, Ed !!" you excitedly cheer, running onto the dance floor— putting a considerable amount of stress into Ed's soul because he thought your skirt was gonna ride up too high over your ass.

he stares at your body as you lift your arms in the air, swaying your hips to the bump of the beat, girls beside you cheering you on. he's quite literally in a trance, watching the soft bounce of your belly and the dips on your hips practically making hearts in his eyes.

you're even singing along with the song, "lemme see that thooonnngg !!! —" you yell a little more than you sing, back arching so you shake your plump ass, multiple girls mimicking slapping it.

what is with america? are all girls like this? what kinda club is this? he frowns when he notices all the guys looking at you, your sparkly lip gloss glistening in all the bright lights. you turn to him and call him on the dance floor, but he psyches himself out as he looks where you are—

men and women grinding against each other as if they were horny teenagers, all dressed with the same theme as well. he softly shakes his head 'no', he wasn't much of a dancer anyway. you tilt your head in confusion but continue to dance your heart out.

suddenly, a random guy wraps his hands around your waist, sliding against your soft tummy, resting on your hips. you turn back, expecting to see your boyfriend— seeing a mediocre man compared to who you belonged to. he smiles politely as he begins to dance along with you, hips rolling into your behind to the song. Ed's face contorts with anger as he slams both of your drinks onto the counter, non-alcoholic unlike the stupid asshat in front of him.

Ed stomps over, upper lip twitching upward similar to Balrog when he gets angry. he places his hand flat on the guy's shoulder, causing him to jump— Ed leans closer, head tilting upwards as he looks down at the brown-haired idiot.

"fuck ya doin', hah? can't keep your greasy hands to yourself?" he's close enough to where he doesn't have to raise his voice too much so the guy can hear him. he listens to the guy stutter, hands immediately being thrown up in surrender, "i-i didn't see you, man. i swear!" Ed lets out a soft 'tch' before just simply pushing the dude back, causing him to stumble into his friends— eyes softening as he looks back at you.

you look up at him, smiling before giggling out, "what a weirdo, right?" you lean closer so he can hear you— "yeah, he's an asshole for sure." .

suddenly, the song switches— beat slow as it starts out, "....welcome to my sex room...." Ed laughs at the audacity of the lyrics before you begin to grind on him to the slow beat, his hands flying to your hips— carressing the way your skin dips.

you turn around and grind your ass on his crotch, back arching as you place your hands on your knees— ass swaying side to side. Ed licks his teeth as he grinds into you as well, hand running down your back as he leans backwards to get a better view of you— his other hand dipping underneath your showing thong.

man, you gotta take him to more clubs.

[bad-thinking]

Zvezda (Russia, 2014)

This movie, directed by Anna Melikyan and released in 2014 I watched rather at random, totally did not get this as any sort of recommendation, instead recently am drawn to russian creations, and found this platform https://sovietmoviesonline.com that shared a great number of russian tv shows and movies. Browsing through that list, I found Zvenda, i.e. Star, drama comedy. Why not?

It is a rather peculiar movie. Totally not obvious.

It starts with a 15 years old girl, giving a performance, auditing for a role, in a place that looks kind of like school. She has a strange, to me, appearance, she is very skinny, which is also her complex, pale skin, colorful make up, light blue eyes. She dreams of being an actress. She does not sing well, no, it is not one of the stories, talent young girl, diamond lost in a crowd, that now just needs to be found and shown to the public. She does not have talent really. She appears also as selfish, very self absorbed, not noticing how others feel, focusing solely on her dreams. Her name is Masha. She lives in an apartment with dirty walls, rather not very pleasant conditions. We don't know where her parents are. She works as a sort of care taker of an elderly men, she walks his dog, buys groceries.

Throughout the whole movie she is mistreated, abused even, in a way. She allows all that for the sake of her dreams. I don't know where to start with that, there were so many scenes that puzzled me.

Even one of first scenes. She is on the stage and perform in front of that disgusting, obese man. She kid of dances, wants to prove she is flexible and she obviously made herself look all beautiful, nice dress, hair and make up. All in place. Man evaluates her, just sees her as a flesh. She says she can sing. He replies: Then undress and sing. And she literally takes her clothes off standing on that stage in a club and starts singing, embarrassed. He measures her and eventually says: Okay, you are in. And with that, she is happy. That was so inhumane, and objectifying. She works in that club as a kind of mermaid, swims in some weird pool of water, is a decoration, has that strange, cheap wig of a blue color. It turns she cannot even swim, almost drowns in that pool.

She is occupied with her appearance and as a kid undergoes several operations. She fixes her ears, boobs, lips and legs. She thinks she will not achieve her dreams looking the way she did. She objectified herself following the standards of beauty, she let herself be beaten as an actress, to just have a role. She did not seem to have a sense of worth on her own. She was a tragic character, at the same time she annoyed me immensely. There was that guy who was, for some reason, not known to me, in love with her. He was there for her whenever she needed, helped her with money for those operations, yet she kept rejecting him. We later know why, nevertheless my heart was aching watching that happening, and anger in me kept only growing towards her.

The whole idea of path of two so distinctive, and yet similar, characters intertwining was entertaining. Masha meets Rita. Rita is a whole another story. She is older, soon will marry a rich man, is surrounded by luxury, dressed in clothes of all the dreamy, according to Masha, clothes. She is vein. She can be loud, also takes a role, plays a performance in her life, pretends, she must be a perfect, beautifully looking woman. Also, she must appear as philanthropic or artistic.

She finds out she is sicks and she will die soon, there is no known cure for that disease. She breaks down in a club where Masha plays that ridiculous mermaid, jumps to her stupid pool, and then wakes up in the morning in Masha's apartment. They start to live together, after all, Rita does not have money on her own and apparently was completely relying on her to be husband, which is just terribly idiotic, I cannot comprehend that, she seems to be not that stupid, but see, what a surprise. He blocks her payment cards, he does not let her in to his house. She turns out to have nothing apart from her ridiculously expensive purse, dolce cabana shoes and fur / coat. Why did he do that though? That would be probably worth mentioning. He dumbs her when she says, while he was fucking her, that she has always felt nothing else than hate towards him. Well, I guess she had not much to loose, she is going to die soon. Why not a tiny dose of honesty, for a change. She does not seem to be good at predicting consequences though, couldn't she first figure out where she is going to take her money from before that honest moment? Whatever.

It is drama, but it was at the same time so damn hilarious. Maybe the plot was not that original. However the ambiguity of main character, Masha, her relation to others and overall humorous tone of the movie was truly engaging. I will not spoil it, describing what is happening later. Although I have almost typed it.

Masha has that vision board in her apartment. She places there all her dreams, what she wants or needs. Among others she has there a list of what she needs to change or improve in herself in terms of her appearance. With every new operation performed she crosses one line. With her new boobs she looks rather ridiculous, as she herself is very skinny and they seem to be just too big, and not to mention, fake. She makes her lips, they get swollen, she cries, that is funny, I laughed, although you can also see as a tragedy.

My overall impression after that movie was that she was superficial, vain and self centered, egoistic, not appreciating other people, using them for her own gain. She had a stupid dream, to be an actress and continue playing some role, basically not being herself. Why that annoys me so much? After all, in her song that she sings, so badly by the way, there are those words:

Sometimes I feel insecure,

From all the pain,

I feel ashamed.

She really wants to fulfill her dream. But is it really a dream? Or some sort of compensation? She wants to be a star, to shine, to be somebody, to achieve, perhaps? Actually, she does not explain much why she so much wants to become an actress. When I try to reach my empathy better, I see that goal not as a dream, but compensation. She lets herself being mistreated and abused, she treats herself as an object with all the alterations that she makes to her body. On the other hand she does not engage in any weird relations with other men. Although there is just that one scene when she makes out with someone in her dressing room, that by the way, sees a guy that likes and cares about her deeply. He wants to commit suicide after that, he failed, and tells her, and she seems to not even hear him, absorbed again in one of her dramas, that time it was I think swollen lips.

I would like to hear someone who has some affection towards her, because I continue seeing her as selfish. Maybe that is what I need a bit more for myself?

[jacepens]

Let Me Drive my Auto into your Heart

Intro: A little 1920s AU I wrote that's just unfinished porn without plot where this stops literally right before the actual smut, so there's nothing explicit here, just suggestive

Fandom/Tags: Hamilton, Washington/Lafayette, unfinished, suggestive

The room was filled with a stench of cigars and sweat that always dispirited him so. Hamilton’s parties were always phenomenal and stocked with the best celebrities, tycoons, gangsters, and flappers around. Bright lights and bright decorations filled his view as he shoved his way out of the crowd and outdoors for a breather. The balcony was a relatively small one compared to the rest of the house, but it still helped him feel secluded from the grandeur of the party. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy them, but they simply became overwhelming at times. George had to admit he always felt like an old man when he left parties for a breather, but what was wrong in needing quiet, fresh air?

“Are you George Washington?” A delicate voice said next to him. George nearly jumped out of his skin, not seeing anyone else on the balcony but now there was certainly someone. This someone happened to look very young, with expressive eyes and red lips that his eyes were continually drawn to. This boy had an extremely lissome face with complimentary small arms and legs that smoothed out to almost feminine curves. In short, he was very attractive.

“Why, yes I am.” He smiled, hardly giving the boy a glance before focusing his gaze nonchalantly ahead of him. The boy continued.

“My name is Gilbert du motier, marquis de Lafayette, but you can call me Lafayette.” The boy purred out in a thick French accent. “I noticed you tonight, in that bright red auto of yours. I asked around about you, curious to know more about that handsome man and his lovely car. You’re quite the interesting one.” Lafayette smirked. At that George felt slightly convinced that this Lafayette was a prostitute placed at this massive party in hopes of finding a man curious enough to drop some money on him for the night. George truthfully would give the kid all the money he wanted if he continued being as adorable as he was now, seductively biting his lip to pull him in.

“That’s awfully flattering of you, Lafayette.” George quipped back, a small smile on his lips.

“I suppose I’ve always had a thing for men with autos like yours. My parents never let me have one in Paris and now that I’m in America I see them all over, but I’m just too afraid to drive them now.” George chuckled at the boy’s forwardness and bluntness. Probably not a prostitute, but not an average kid.

“You’re only talking to me cause I have a car?” George teased, “you realize most every man here has one.”

“Oh no, you see it is only what drew me to you.” Lafayette turned to put his back to the balcony banister and rest his elbows on the rail, looking up at George, “but you see you fascinate me because of the work you’ve done. Certainly not pure work, as I’ve heard, but I like the idea of your sort of living. Comfortable but quite dangerous.” George chuckled again,

“It’s not dangerous when you’ve got enough money to pay anyone off who gives you trouble.” George flashed him a dangerous smile and he saw the boy almost lose his footing. Seamlessly, George caught the boy and steadied him, keeping his face so close to Lafayette’s he could feel his shuddering breaths against his neck. Oddly charmed by Lafayette, George leaned down and purred in his ear,

“Would you like to go for a drive?” George felt Lafayette shiver against him and whisper out,

“Sounds lovely.” Before gulping. His face was bright red and George felt flattered by Lafayette as he laced his fingers through his and dragged him through the crowd of people to the front door. Lafayette trailed closely behind, occasionally touching the small of his back until they reached outside. The butler brought his car to the front for George to step into, taking the driver's seat with Lafayette sitting down next him, adjusting his hair and nervously gripping the car seat.

“It’s a little pointless to adjust your hair, you know.” George smiled as he put the car in gear, “I’ll be sure to mess it up.” He winked and Lafayette turned an even brighter red. What a dazzling man.

As they zoomed out into the city, Lafayette laughed and clutched the seat as his hair was blown in the wind. George increased his speed and changed gears to entertain Lafayette more.

“I’ve never been in such a fast car!” He laughed, “where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” George smiled quietly to himself. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? Since you already know so much about me.”

“I grew up in a wealthy Paris family, but my dad died young and my mom left for Spain. I was technically raised by my grandma but I was the one who looked after our finances and taught myself. I came to America looking for a fresh start, and I have never been happier.” Bright lights whipped past their car and illuminated Lafayette’s beautiful, soft features as he smiled. Advertisements for more things he didn’t need but would inevitably buy to impress people with. George suddenly took a left turn away from the glittering city lights. As they continued along the road, signs of city life became more and more scarce when George turned the car into an abandoned store parking lot.

“I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself here, but I’m curious.” George turned off the engine, “is that all made up?” Lafayette laughed.

“I knew you’d be the suspicious type, but I promise you it’s completely true. Just ask Alexander.”

“You’re friends with Alex?”

“I’d say so.” He smiled, relaxing into his spot, never taking his eyes off George.

“Stay there.” He said, getting out of the car. Fidgeting with the roof of the car, he yanked it up and over Lafayette’s head then quickly fastened it down to the car. He then hopped back into the car and shut the door behind him.

“So what is it you’re doing now?” He asked Lafayette.

“Currently I’m going to college just to do something with my time but it’s honestly very boring, but I suppose I only have a year left.” He shrugged.

“Interesting. I don’t know a lot of people that go to college. You must be incredibly smart.” He leaned forward to invade Lafayette’s personal space, he leaned in as well.

“Smart is an understatement.” He smirked, “but everyone there is so stuck up, they don’t know what a good time is.”

“Shame. You certainly seem like you know what a good time is.” He murmured.

“Afraid it’s about all I do.”

“So you confess to being a slut then?” He smirked as Lafayette blushed.

“Perhaps I do.” He grinned, placing his hand on George’s thigh, “and it’s been so long since I’ve been fucked by someone as experienced as you.” Lafayette’s face was so close to his, that he could feel every warm, shaky breath that he exhaled. Lafayette bit his lip and looked at him through those long eyelashes.

“What an absolute beauty.” George whispered as he placed his hand on Lafayette’s cheek and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. Lafayette submitted nicely and let George snake his arms around to pull him even closer and to kiss him deeper. Lafayette sighed and George pulled apart for a moment, observing his red lips and tracing his hand up Lafayette’s thigh before whispering,

“Would you like to get in the back of the car?”

“Yes Please.” Lafayette moaned. Not wanting to wait a moment longer, George almost fell out of the car and ran to open up Lafayette’s door for him. Lafayette stepped out cooly and rushed to the backseat, with George climbing in eagerly after him. Lafayette giggled when George closed the door behind them and looked over him, eyes taking in every piece of Lafayette. 

Leaning back down to kiss him, he began to work at the buttons on his vest and felt Lafayette’s soft hands reaching down to help, frantic nature taking over their actions. Lafayette arched his spine beautifully when George slipped off the last of his shirts and felt bright red and out of breath as he let his hand touch the new exposed skin.

[ancestorsofjudah]

1 Kings 11: 1-6. "Evil in the Eyes."

King David liked them on the prettier side. He was vain and kind of a bigot. He expressed this in his policies and with his sword. Solomon did not show preferences based on race, and the Tanakh says he resolved his differences with other nations non-violently. Perhaps a bit too non-violently...

Solomon’s Wives

11 King Solomon, however, loved many foreign women besides Pharaoh’s daughter—Moabites, Ammonites, Edomites, Sidonians and Hittites. 

2 They were from nations about which the Lord had told the Israelites, “You must not intermarry with them, because they will surely turn your hearts after their gods.” Nevertheless, Solomon held fast to them in love. 

3 He had seven hundred wives of royal birth and three hundred concubines, and his wives led him astray. 

4 As Solomon grew old, his wives turned his heart after other gods, and his heart was not fully devoted to the Lord his God, as the heart of David his father had been. 

5 He followed Ashtoreth the goddess of the Sidonians, and Molek the detestable god of the Ammonites. 

6 So Solomon did evil in the eyes of the Lord; he did not follow the Lord completely, as David his father had done.

Evil in the Eyes of the Lord can be boiled down to lust or greed. Before we judge Solomon to harshly for it, let's see just exactly what he lusted for:

Pharoah's daughter was called Bithia, "Beth Ya" the House of God, AKA the Kingdom of Israel. Out of the bondage of an Egyptian Confederation, a new Israeli Federation was born.

On the inner level, the Egyptian Confederates include lies, delusions, slander, propaganda, worship of the afterlife, slavery, idolatry, covetousness, all the thought patterns forbidden by the Torah. From these one escapes if one has Jewish parents and then enters into willing Federation with the Israelites, a long list of noble qualities whose proper explanations are found in the Tanakh.

The Torah and Tanakh say several other kinds of communities of desirable and undesirable aspects of human nature lurk around the Israeli Compound.

They are Moabites, Ammonites, Edomites, Sidonians and Hittites. 

Moabites are "traditionalists."

Ammonites are "the in-crowd" the A-List.

Edomites are priestly commitments.

Sidonians "active pursuit of solutions instead of theories", "to siege."

and Hittites, "the terribles", that don't shave their bush.

Solomon felt drawn these persons and their gods even after God told him no. Why did he do it anyway?

He wanted status and popularity but he already had those things. He wanted for nothing. Even the highly desired aspects of the cult of Astoreth and Molech "Theories and Practices of Sound Government" were not required by King Solomon or his court.

To desire to acquire with such rapaciousness absent acceptable purposes in mind is the root cause of evil. Such Evil in the Eyes of the Lord is called Azat, 1719, אזא‎ט‎, "The fierce object nearby." Da'at, "the nearby knowledge object" is the opposite.

So if God could see these nearby uncertainties in his human nature, surely Solomon saw them too, and instead of listening, went to investigate. He took 700 wives and three hundred concubines instead of tribute or treasure.

Wives are women one takes in marriage for the purposes of turning intentions into patterns. It goes both ways, for the better and for the worse.

Concubines are men or women who impart a skill that cannot be inherited, like visiting a yoga studio regardless of what religion you participate in.

In this case:

700 wives= 1704, אז‎אֶפֶסד, "I will lose."

300 concubines= 442, דדב, dedev, "ya-ded-ev" "my God given desires for life."

Unused verb דוד (dwd) probably meant to gently swing, dandle, fondle. Noun דוד (dod) or דד (dod) means beloved or loved one, and may also describe one's uncle. The feminine version, דודה (doda), means aunt. Noun דודי (duday) literally means a "love-bringer" and describes a mandrake. Noun דוד (dud) refers to a kind of pot or jar (perhaps one that was rocked or stirred?).

Ev= Eve= symbiosis with life.

Instead of the Absolute Nature of the God Yah, Solomon became enchanted by Ashtoreth the goddess of the Sidonians, and Molek the detestable god of the Ammonites. 

Ashtoreth "the Theorem" =

עשת

The verb עשת ('ashat) probably describes the process of how loose elements contract and become a smooth, solid union: to be or become cohesive.

Noun עשת ('eshet) appears to describe a "solid" or "cohesive" body part, possibly the sexual organs. Adjective עשות ('ashot) means smooth in the sense of uncontaminated (of iron).

Nouns עשתות ('ashtut) and עשתון ('eshtona) describe a mental function, and particularly a consistency of thought or consciousness.

Noun עשתי ('ashte) means one.

Molek, "the most popular"=

מלך

The noun מלך (melek) means king, and a king is not merely a glorified tribal chief but the alpha of a complex, stratified society, implying a court and a complex government.

The Bible insists that a society must be governed by a triad of anointed sovereigns, namely prophets, priests and the king. A good king causes his people to be prosperous and peaceful whereas a bad one causes poverty and strife.

The difference between the two is dictated by how close to the Law of Nature (a.k.a. the Word of God) the king operates. A kingdom that is wholly in tune with the Law consists of only sovereign individuals and is thus without a physical king.

The Gematria says Solomon became a parody of himself when he started hiding the pastrami in all those foreign women, dividing his energies, his passions and time amongst persons that were not his own.

All we get from v. 6 is 5660, הו‎ו‎אֶפֶס. "whoops".

By overdoing it, he lost his taste for the essentials of being the king and added unnecessaries to the mix. His underlying curiosity about life on the other side of the Kibbutz ended up not being as satisfying as his covetousness led him to believe.

His job was to help the people become better suited to life in the Kingdom not collect and gather allotta fagina to himself. While this does not demonstrate corruption, it was not good and the response of the Most High to this was not favorable.

1,000 Vaginas= your death, #848, "by sharpness."

"A shochet is a ritual slaughterer who skillfully practices shechitah, slitting the throat of the animal as per Torah tradition. He does so using a chalef, a perfectly sharp and smooth knife with which he can swiftly and cleanly cut through the trachea and esophagus in an uninterrupted sweeping motion.

Before beginning his work, the shochet says the traditional blessing, “Blessed are you … Who has commanded us regarding shechitah [slaughter].”

A shochet must be learned in the laws of kosher slaughter and adept at sharpening and polishing his knives, known as shtellen ah chalef in Yiddish. He also trains under an experienced shochet to learn how to hold the animal firmly, to slaughter it quickly and smoothly."

As the Sage says, "hold the animal firmly" or it will get away from you.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.22

Obstacle

04/08/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,413

Warnings: angst, jealousy, marital problems, pregnancy, allusions to cheating (no actual infidelity), fluff, smug Loki

A/N: It took me SO long to get this chapter down. I wrote literally like a few sentence a day for a bit and then finally got some good chunks out. This has been a tough week but this chapter makes it all worth it! I hope y’all think so too. A lot of good stuff happens in this chapter, as in stuff that I really like. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work!

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The shuffle around the palace as Loki escorts you through the front gate is overwhelming.

It’s safe to say that judging by your reception when you’d shown up in Heimdall’s tower located on the far side of the city, the Asgardians are happy to see you.

Armod is also happy to see you and you rush to get into your car before you can get swarmed by eager Asgardians.

Loki joins you in the back seat and lets Armod gush over his happiness at seeing you back home and healthy. And pregnant! More than anything, the people are happy to see the swell of your belly.

Many of the women are crying as you step out of the car at the palace gate, the men cheering enthusiastically.

Some of the children have found flower petals to throw into the air and it rains white, pink, and yellow blossoms.

It's the small waving hand of a little girl with ebony floor length braids that tugs too hard on your heartstrings and you give in to your impulse.

“Armod, stop the car, I’d like to greet the people,” you ask, swayed further by the eager faces of the young girl's siblings who flank her..

As much as being Queen had come unexpectedly and as much work as it's been, loving the Asgardians has never been a challenge and you've missed your people.

Their kindness has always been the best part of your day.

Armod gives Loki a quick look but stops the car just as the palace gates are opening.

He pulls over to the side, putting it in park before hurrying out to open the door for you.

“Are you sure?” Loki checks, reaching over to place his hand over yours on the seat.

“Of course. I owe them this. I’ve been gone for so long.”

“If you’d rather go in, we can find an excuse.”

“Loki,” you laugh once. “Is something wrong? Is there a reason I shouldn’t get out of the car?”

“Not at all,” he assures you. “I just don’t want you to force yourself. I know this pregnancy hasn’t exactly been easy on you.”

“I’m okay. And I’m sure they wanna see the proof that they have an heir coming. Really, Loki, I don't mind.”

Loki sighs, but gets out quickly to move around and take Armod’s place and offer you his arm.

Taking it, you pull yourself out, and after a long moment to steady yourself on your feet, you turn to face your people.

A large number of Valkyries suddenly pour from the open palace gateway and you wait as they line themselves in front of the gathering crowd. A simple border of control to keep you safe.

The people don’t seem threatened by the guard either and they continue to cheer until you raise your hand and call them to silence.

It only takes a few seconds for the noise to die, leaving only the ambient sounds of the city, wind, and the shuffling feet as more Asgardians and visiting humans gather.

“Hello,” you begin, voice a little shaky from nerves. “I’m...I-I’d like to start by first apologizing for disappearing. And then for being gone so long.”

The people watch and listen attentively, hanging on your every word. As your hands drop down to your belly to stroke it anxiously out of habit, their eyes are drawn to it and they seem to rattle with excitement again.

Looking down at your tummy, you contemplate the little one inside and the kicks he gave you earlier in the day.

He's really in there.

“It’s been a long journey to do what’s been expected of me. Difficult, actually. Giving you and Thor what we’ve all been hoping for is a privilege though. It's important that you all know that.

"However, I'm not as strong as all of you. I'm not as resilient. As soon as I knew that I was expecting the future prince or princess of New Asgard, I knew that I had to take precautions. I had to stop thinking like your Queen and just for a while, think like a mom. I told Thor that I wanted to take some time away from my duties as Queen if only to make sure that my pregnancy would take. In order to ensure the health of this baby.

“Im so very sorry if I caused any of you any worry or pain by disappearing. That was never my intention and it makes me...I can only say that I'm sorry. I hope that you all can understand why I left. The The thing is I’m happy to say that my efforts weren't wasted, clearly."

There's a rumble of gentle laughter that flows through the crowd and breaks the slightly somber mood your speech is causing. You give them a smile and they smile back.

"And while that does make me very happy, it has not been easy to carry this baby. I have been sick and weak but after some rest I'm now feeling stronger than ever. With the constant and careful care provided by Doctors Wilson and Alric, I’m finally able to resume my duties as Queen with the knowledge that this baby is strong and healthy and my body can take the strain of bringing him-or her into this world.

“I’m so happy to be back among my people, my home. You all are my family and it fills me with such joy to know that I have made you all proud.”

The people cheer, more and more gathering along the street so that it’s now clogged and impassable. Others have taken to peeking out of windows from the surrounding buildings or finding balconies and roofs to stand on to get a better look at you.

Their excitement changes to trepidation at the look on your face as you realize that now is the perfect time to address what happened yesterday.

They’re so attuned to your mood that they quiet down again and wait nervously for you to speak.

"On a more serious note, I know that many of you must have been shocked by the lies spewed onto the pages of the Watch. And I'd like to be as clear as I possibly can about my absence from the palace.

"I only left because of the concern I had for our future prince or princess. There was absolutely no other reason for my absence in our great city. While it is true that something did happen between Thor, Jane, and myself--well, I will only say that now I know that His Majesty the King of Asgard is wholly devoted to me and our family, just as he has been from the moment he accepted me as his wife.

"Not that I ever doubted it," you lie. No one needs to know how bad things are and it is true that now you know Thor is devoted to you.

So, it's not completely a lie.

"As a people," you continue. "We'll need to be vigilant about the people we choose to trust to come into our homes. We will be more cautious now, and as a woman…"

You swallow hard, thinking about the words itching on the tip of your tongue to tumble forward and make your heart clear. Maybe it's not right to say it? Maybe it isn't the queenly thing to do?

You don't care.

"As a wife and a soon-to-be mother, I will say that Doctor Jane Foster is not welcome in my home. She has proven to be unworthy of the trust we placed in her and while her expertise is an invaluable commodity that I am sad to lose, I would rather have the second best than risk the stability of my family."

To your surprise, there are a flutter of approving nods and smiles, wives and husband's looking scandalized by the confirmation that something went down but clearly it was Thor that had Jane kicked out. A few cheers come but they quiet down quickly.

"My love for His Majesty is unwavering. As is his for me. No marriage can be without it's struggles but Thor and I are as united as we have ever been. Both in love, devotion, to each other and you, our people. Together we will strive to protect this kingdom to the best of our abilities and with this child, I hope we can begin to lay down proper roots for us so that everyone on Earth will know that New Asgard is here to stay."

The crowd cheers. It's deafening and your hands are trembling so terribly even clenched into fists they shake.

"LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!" someone shouts and the others fall into the chant as it's picked up by what sounds like everyone in the crowd.

A cool hand presses against the center of your back and you lean towards him as he whispers in your ear.

"That was beautifully done, Y/N," Loki admires. "Now come along. You need your rest."

You cradle your bump and the crowd cheers louder as you wave while Loki leads you back into the car.

As it pulls away from the curb, the Valkyrie turn to follow behind you. Faces full of stern pride. Their gleaming armor shining bright in the late afternoon sun.

The large wooden and steel reinforced gates of the palace close with a thundering clatter and you lean back, heart suddenly clenching painfully. Your stomach turns and you feel like you might throw up.

You shut your eyes and open the window allowing the cooling air to help drive your nausea away.

"Y/N? You alright?" Loki checks, putting his hand on your arm.

"I'm fine," you assure him, unwilling to open your eyes.

"Are you sure? Only, you're looking a little green."

That doesn't actually happen does it? Do people look green when they're gonna throw up?

You assume he's exaggerating, but as the last bit of the swirl in your belly passes, you look at him with fearful eyes.

"I'm nervous," you admit.

"To see Thor?"

"Mm," you nod.

"He's missed you. He will probably try and hug you. Might even kiss you."

"I don't know if I can handle that, Loki."

"You'll have to. The guards around the palace are sworn to secrecy about anything that happens in here, but with the amount of information that magazine was able to get we're pretty sure there's a mole amongst our number."

You look away from him, frowning because the last thing you want is to hug and kiss Thor.

Well, that is, you really want to do those things. Which is why you shouldn't. Not until you can be around him with some kind of rational thought and control over your feelings.

You need to get a grip and come to terms with the reality of your situation before you can let yourself love hum.

You have to protect yourself.

It turns out that you have nothing to worry about.

Estrid who had come before you with your things is there to greet you. A few others of the palace staff come to see you and you're welcome back with fondness.

Because you know you have to play the part, you look for him.

"His Majesty had a sudden summons from the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, my Queen. He apologizes for missing your arrival but he's had the small dining room filled with all of your favorites.

"When you are finished with dinner, he has asked that you wait for him in his study."

Estrid's tone tells you she's wary for you. She wants to make sure you're okay.

The disappointment you feel gives you away not only to yourself, but everyone there to see your face fall as you caress your belly.

"A blessing in disguise?" Loki suggests in your ear for just you, but the smile on his lips says he knows better.

"He'll be back before it gets too late, Your Majesty," Estrid assures you, trying to soothe your sadness. "He promised. There’s nothing more he wants than to see you."

"I know," you smile at her, then the others before you head for the dining room, your stomach grumbling in anticipation of the foods you know are waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~

Waiting is torture. You keep trying to read your book but your attention is pulled back to the door of Thor’s study every few seconds.

You groan, dropping the book onto the desk before throwing your head back with scrunched up eyes.

How is it possible to be desperate to see someone while also dreading it?

It feels like you'll die if you don't lay eyes on Thor but also like it'll tear you to shreds if you do. There's no winning here.

You gasp as the door opens and get to your feet in the same breath.

Thor's body is rising and falling heavily with his own labored breathing. He'd been running.

To get to you? No. You can't be swayed.

"I'm here."

His declaration is soft but heavy with meaning. More than just him announcing his arrival.

"Oh, aren't you a vision," he gushes.

"Hi," you whisper, only because you can't catch your breath.

He's wearing jeans, a plain black t-shirt stretched across his bulging chest. He's even more massive than you remember. Three months away has deprived you so fully that suddenly being in his presence leaves you hungry for him.

You want him so much.

"I've missed you, desperately," he confesses. "May I greet you properly?"

You frown, so undecided.

"Or not," Thor relents. "Forgive me, I just got caught up in the moment."

Why is this so hard?

You want to feel him.

"You can greet our baby properly," you give in.

A big part of you needs to feel him and this is the only way you can give in and feel like you're still doing your best to hold strong in your resolve to get some distance.

Thor’s eye lights up and quickly finds the swell of your tummy with recognition.

"Really?"

"I will never keep you from our baby, Thor. Even if I'm not ready for things to go back to normal between us just yet."

Thor takes a half step towards you and watches you carefully for any indication that you're not comfortable with his proximity.

You sigh, head tilted to the left slightly before you hold out your hand to him, beckoning him closer.

In three long strides Thor takes your hand and stops when he's only a foot away.

"Here," you gasp.

Your heart is in overdrive. Thor’s touch is doing things to your body. There's an initial rush of butterflies in your stomach and quickly you pull Thor’s hands to the spots where your baby is kicking in response.

Thor’s body freezes. He goes rigid. He even stops breathing.

For a moment you begin to worry that maybe you've broken him, until he suddenly drops to his knees.

He swallows hard, eyes pooling as he stares at the swell of your stomach as the baby continues to kick.

“They’re really in there,” he’s so choked up about it that his voice cracks around the words.

As he speaks, the baby kicks more.

Thor laughs but then leans in to kiss your stomach over the fabric of your dress.

“We really made her,” Thor gushes.

“Her?”

He looks up at you, confused for a second before he smiles wide, “Or him. It doesn’t matter. What matters is our baby is coming.”

Your heart swells, and you’re so happy that you could float away like a hot air balloon with the warmth flooding your limbs.

This is the moment you’d dreamt of. This is the moment that had been stolen from you by Jane and her lies. This is the moment that you and Thor had both been yearning for.

He’s so caught up in it, floating through the glow of this perfect moment that he presses his lips to your tummy again two more times before he’s rising, his hand hooked behind your neck as he meets your lips as he gets to his feet.

You’re so unprepared for it, so utterly lost in this sweet exchange between him and your baby that your lips pucker on their own.

He opens his eye and yours, already open, stare into his. He looks slightly shocked to find himself kissing you but he doesn’t stop.

Instead, his expression shifts into a pained look of desire. He pulls back, his hand dropping to grip your bicep.

“I would say that I’m sorry but I have been wanting to kiss you since the moment I left you three months ago.”

You say nothing, watching him, listening. You’re searching your soul to see if this is okay with you because it feels okay. Despite the sirens blaring in your mind about the restrictions you’d set for yourself when you’d decided to come back home, your body is telling you it needs this. Your heart is painfully aching at Thor’s touch.

You’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. 

“Is this alright? I can go.”

The idea of him going now feels like the end of the world. Rationally, you know that isn’t an appropriate response to his offering to leave you be, especially when you know you asked him for space for specific reasons.

“No,” your hands grip the sides of his t-shirt tightly, holding him in place without any actual strength since compared to him, you’re as mighty as a little mouse.

You refuse to look up at him, despite the crumbling of your resolve.

“No, don’t go.”

It’s an almost involuntary shy response to your diminishing shame at losing all control after his touch. After one kiss. You should be disappointed in yourself. And part of you is. However, that part of you grows increasingly small as Thor gently takes hold of your chin and guides your gaze up until you can meet his.

“I’m sorry, cherub. I will try and be worthy of you again.”

“I know,” you admit, knowing how sorry he’s been from the moment he realized that he’d done something that hurt you badly. “I know you are.”

“Can I kiss you, cherub?”

His voice is so deep, so alluring and coaxing that you drop your gaze again, fixing it on his collarbone before slowly you nod.

His arm winds its way around your waist and he pulls you to him before dipping down and catching your lips with his again.

He pulls away after a second because the swell of your belly gets in the way, but he laughs and looks down at it.

The pleasant sound of his happiness gives you too much joy.

As you begin to smile, Thor reaches down to press one hand to the side of your stomach while he pulls you against him again and kisses you this time with more fervor.

The longer he has his lips pressed to yours, the more enthusiastic he gets until finally you’re breathless and you pull back but instead of pulling away, you wrap your arms around him and fist the back of his t-shirt,

You bury your face against his wide chest and Thor brings his hands back up to caress the sides of your face, his lips kissing the top of your head.

“I know I may not have a right to say this, but thank you for coming home. Thank you for coming back to me. I thought I’d lost you."

His arms grow a little tighter, his heart is in an absolute stampede.

You turn your head sideways so that you can listen to his heartbeat.

"This is what I'd wanted," you whimper, starting to be overcome with the emotion of being reunited with Thor and things falling into place more easily. "This is how I'd wanted us to share this moment."

Thor sighs heavily, giving you one more squeeze before he pushes you back a little so that he can look at you.

“I’m so sorry that I robbed you of that. I was a fool,” he nods, his eye intense as he stares into yours with wordless declarations piercing into you.

The memory of your speech with the people when you arrived pops into your head and now with Thor’s arms around you it all feels a little like an overreaction. The past three months feels like a distant nightmare.

Or does this feel like a dream?

“Thor,” you begin but Thor’s lips are on you again, drowning out your words.

“Oh, to hear you say my name,” he declares and kisses you again.

Your mouth opens for him and you absolutely melt against his chest as he nearly dips you in passion.

He pulls back again, “Is this real?”

He kisses you.

“You feel so good in my arms.”

He kisses you.

“Your skin is so…” but then he hums and kisses you.

He dips down and with his arms tight around your waist but also careful with the swell of your stomach, he lifts you so that you’re level with his eye.

“I love you, so much, my cherub. Thank you, thank you for coming home. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I stayed away,” you sigh. “I need to be strong without you, Thor. I was hurt but I never stopped loving you.”

His face goes through shame, understanding, and then elation.

In a burst of subdued anger and aggression for what he put you through, you reach up and grab his shoulder. You dig your fingers in against the taut muscle then reach up to pull one of his ears.

You’re clearly not hurting him but he allows you to move his head, understanding the need to express your anger even if you’re not doing any damage.

“Never do that to me again,” you growl. “Never say that you’ll leave me. Why would you say that? Even in passing? You were so damn sure.”

“No, Y/N, I wasn’t. The moment I saw you, I knew that I could never leave you. I’m sorry. I could never even think those thoughts again.”

“You better not, or I won’t come back next time. I’ll disappear and you’ll never see me again.”

Thor takes your threat for what it is. A promise. Truth.

He shakes his head as he leans forward to press his forehead to yours, shutting his eye.

“I swear,” he begins. “On my life.”

He keeps you there, hovering over the ground with your heads together for a few minutes before he slowly lowers you to the ground. You realize it’s because he wants to stroke your belly and you take a slight step back so that he can.

He smiles, happy. It reminds you of the look your people had when you’d arrived only a hundred times as possessive and joyful.

Again, your speech intrudes on your reunion and this time, you won’t let him distract you.

“Thor,” you coax, placing your hands over his where they rest on the sides of your stomach.

“Yes, my cherub?”

He’s excessive in the affection he puts in his voice but you know that he must be floating on cloud nine after what you both went through when you made him leave you at your house.

“I-I did something and I’m not sure if it was right of me to do it,” you watch his brow wrinkle and for a split second you almost lose yourself in the beauty of his face.

Has he always been this handsome?

“When I got back I kinda made a speech? Everyone was so happy to see me and to see me carrying our heir and I wanted to apologize to them for leaving and for making them worry. I wanted to share in their excitement for the baby and with that stupid tabloid having come out yesterday-”

“Right, the article,” there’s guilt in his voice despite there being no truth to the rumors it printed.

“I wanted to put their minds at ease and I...I did confirm that something happened with Jane but not what they were thinking.”

Thor’s expression hardens just a tad and he pulls backs towards a large armchair. He grabs your hand though and pulls you along with him until he can sit and then carefully attempts to offer you his lap, unsure if you’ll sit.

You do, because you’re tired and because you’re not eager to be away from him again. Now that you’re touching him, you’re not in a hurry to change that again.

“What did you say exactly?”

Swallowing hard, you lick your lips nervously, “Um...I told them the truth. Not exactly the truth, but enough of it that they’ll understand that Jane isn’t welcome here. I said that the only reason I left is for my health and the health of the baby, which is true. I didn’t want them to worry about us because even if we didn’t reconcile, I want us to be united for them at least.

“But I don’t trust Jane, Thor. Not after what she did. Not after how she treated me when you weren’t looking, and the people need to know that I will protect them from anyone, no matter who they are to you or me.”

Thor’s face grows pained as you speak, his arm wrapping around your waist as his other hand caresses the side of your stomach. You’re starting to realize that it’s going to be hard to get his hands off it, but that doesn’t seem like a terrible problem.

“I wish you had told me that she’d been rude to you,” Thor sighs, taking his hand off of his stomach to stroke your cheek. “If I had known-”

“She wasn’t rude to me Thor, she dismissed me. I wasn’t even worth acknowledging to her and now I know it’s because she was jealous and wanted you back because what? She saw what we had together and suddenly it was good enough for her?

“I was in her way. That’s all I was. Even if in the end she couldn’t go through with it whether it was because she felt guilty for doing this to us or for lying or for having second thoughts and knowing that she doesn’t want to be Queen or a mom, she’s a bad person to me. And I have every right to protect myself, my baby, and our marriage from her. She’s not welcome here Thor. I never want to see her again. Ever.”

He’s cradling you now, holding you close because the intensity with which you're telling him that Jane is not welcome in your home is transferring to him.

“And if you’d known, you wouldn’t have done anything, Thor. You’d probably have talked to her and asked her what was going on and she would have lied to you and you would have believed her.”

He doesn’t deny it. He does look like it hurts him to know that you know though. That’s enough for you.

“I think it took her lying and doing this to us to make you see what she’s capable of.”

Thor shuts his eye, resting his head against your chest as he wraps his arms around you again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, Thor. But you weren’t the one who lied. I mean, you didn’t tell me what was happening, but you weren’t the reason that this happened. If Jane hadn’t lied-”

“But she did,” Thor says, his deep voice anguished. “And I failed to honor my vows. You are my Queen and I should have come to you the moment she told me she was pregnant.”

You both fall into silence as you reach over to stroke his bicep. His skin is so soft. Touching it gives you comfort in a way you weren’t aware you needed. The more you touch it the more you need to feel it.

A finger stroking his skin turns into two, then four, then your entire hand is running up under the sleeve of his t-shirt.

With the way his hand curls around your thigh, you know that both your bodies are responding to your touch. Both of you are heated but instead of giving into that because you aren’t ready for that yet, you lay your head on his shoulder and curl in closer to his chest.

Thor sighs heavily, wrapping you up in his arms as he cradles you close.

“Now we know better,” you whisper.

“Now I know what losing you will do to me,” Thor agrees. “I’ve missed you so much, cherub.”

You don’t respond. You’re too choked up to say anything without your voice cracking so both of you stay like that for a while.

The cocoon of Thor’s arms is toasty and from the exhaustion you’re feeling plus all of the emotions that have drained you, your eyes are heavy and difficult to keep open.

“What about you?”

Thor’s chest rumbles with a chuckle.

“We can talk more tomorrow, cherub. Sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” you lie.

“Very well, then. What about me?”

“You’re sleepy?” you look up at him, full of concern.

He chuckles again, “No, cherub. What were you asking?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if you’re okay. What Jane did to you can’t have been easy. Despite what she did to us as a couple, she said she was pregnant. You’ve been wanting a baby for so long and she dangled that in front of you like the rat that she is. And then she wasn’t even pregnant?”

Thor’s arms constrict around you as he pulls you up towards him to kiss you.

It’s slow and full of emotion.

“Even after all of that, you’re still worried about me?”

“It took time,” you admit. “Once I wasn’t so angry and I thought about what Jane really did. I hate the idea that your heart broke over her lies. I can’t believe she ever loved you if she was willing to make you feel that way.”

Thor just stares at you, searching your eyes before he rubs his nose gently against your own. When he speaks, his voice is so low, so deep, an intimate whisper. It burrows into your chest and settles right there underneath your ribs and makes you breathless with missing him and desire.

“That’s why you’re my Queen, Y/N. And she is not.”

You’re not sure if it’s an Asgardian ability or if maybe it’s something specific to Thor, but he has a way of making you swoon.

“I missed you so much,” he confesses again, that whisper sinful. “Did you not miss me?”

You nod because you can’t speak. There’s a lump in your throat made of both sadness and want.

“Was your bed as frigid as mine was in your absence? Did you miss my breath on your neck as I did yours? Or the steady beat of your heart when you pressed your breast to my back as you held me while I slept?”

Fuck, he’s making this so impossible.

“I hate you so much,” you counter, but his lips stretch into a small knowing smile as you take a tight hold of the neck of his shirt and pull him up to meet your lips.

He exhales heavily into you, tasting you, relishing in every pulsating touch as both your hearts ache and yearn almost in disbelief as if both of you can’t believe that these wants, these needs are finally being met.

As he pulls back to tilt his head the other way, he takes hold of the sides of your face again, his lips grazing yours, “I love you.”

Before you can reply or yank him back into that torturous yet blissful kiss, a voice at the doorway clears their throat.

“Well, that was fast, what happened to keeping him at a distance?”

Loki’s voice pulls your gaze and you can feel your cheeks and neck burn at how easily it seems you’ve crumbled when finally face to face with Thor.

You frown at your brother-in-law, while Thor ignores his brother and leans up to press very non-chaste kisses to your neck, “I told you coming back was a bad idea.”

But Loki’s smile is blinding and with one chuckle he backs out of the room, shutting the door quietly as Thor turns you back to him so that he can get back to kissing you.

[free-pool-trash]

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

[hnychn]

KARASUNO’S MANAGER !!

SYPNOSIS — it’s a new year and the karasuno team decides to throw a new years party in the school gym

WARNINGS — tooth rotting fluff <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE — none of this is realistic but shut up and let me live laugh and love with the idea it’s real

⇀ HAPPY NEW YEARS BABESS

⇀ so it all started out when noya and tanaka came up with the brilliant idea to throw a new years party

⇀ and since canonically, everyone in haikyuu are losers, everyone agreed 😀

⇀ of course you invited your boo kenma 😼 and the nekoma team

⇀ and kuroo invited the fukurodani team since bokuto heard about the party somehow

⇀ the party is held in the gym, it's byoc

⇀ "bring your own cups"

⇀ cause y'all broke broke 😭😭✋🏼

⇀ kidding . . . about the cup part, y'all are broke though . . .

⇀ anyways, so the team put you in charge of getting the drinks

⇀ . . . but they never specified non-alcoholic 😼

⇀ so you, being the six foot seven giant you were, got some alcohol

⇀ it was surprisingly easy

⇀ like the guy behind the counter didn't even ask you for an ID or anything and he probably assumed you were 21+ because of your features 🤡

⇀ i mean you do be chiselled by the gods themselves 🤪🥴

⇀ not me simping over you 🤺

⇀ so the party is about to start and you come in with literal bottle of alcohol like fUCKING JACK DANIEL'S AND WHISKEY AND RUM AND ALL THAT SHIT

⇀ and when daichi saw you with all the paper bags filled with bottles of alcohol he just-

⇀ . . . 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ "y/n. . ."

⇀ "yes? 🤠"

⇀ "why. . .why do you have alcohol?"

⇀ "you said to get drinks. ."

⇀ "i mEANT PUNCH-"

⇀ all daichi wanted to do was punch you 🏌️🏽‍♀️

⇀ LMAO BUT NOYA AND TANAKA TURNT UP WITH THE ALCOHOL

⇀ they poured that shit into those punch bowls? ya know? the ones in those cliche highschool movies

⇀ they got red solo cups and everything 🔫

⇀ anyways, so people start showing up and daichi panics because no sir, these minors aren't getting drink on his watch, but oops-

⇀ kiyoko locked him in the shortage closet 👁

⇀ "i'll let you out in 20 minutes"

⇀ because babes knew that's all it'll take for everyone to be blackout drunk

⇀ and she was right 💅🏽

⇀ fifteen minutes into the party, noya, tanaka, yamamoto, lev and a bunch of first years are drunk drunk.

⇀ suga, kuroo, asahi, and ennoshita are also drunk but like they're the chill typa drunk y'know?

⇀ they playing a game of uno with normal playing cards 🧍🏽‍♀️

⇀ kenma . . . doesn't want to be there BLESS HIM LMAO-

⇀ he's sitting in the corner, red solo cup in hand because kuroo took his pspspsp and won't give it back, even if he is drunk

⇀ and you- good god

⇀ YOU. ARE. D R U N K.

⇀ i'm talking the embarrassing type of drunk

⇀ you're dancing on one of the volleyball poles like a fucking stripper and bokuto is throwing napkins at you like they're ones please- 🔫

⇀ kenma is just in the corner staring like 🐚🌝 hello yes, officer? imma need animal control here asap.

⇀ LIKE DJFJD WTF IS MY BF DOINGG

⇀ he's embarrassed for you 😔✋🏼

⇀ but in the corner of your eye you see kenma sitting all alone so you go over to him, alcohol nearly spilling over the side of your red solo cup

⇀ "what're you doin all alone here, kitten?"

⇀ kenma crinkles his nose because you smell like alcohol, but he just shrugs

⇀ he says something but you can't hear him over he loud music, so you lean closer but you end up spilling your drink all over your shirt and you just

⇀ "ew it's sticky . . . i guess I'll just take it off"

⇀ SO YOU DO

⇀ IN A CROWDED ROOM

⇀ OF DRUNK POSSIBLY NOT STRAIGHT MEN

⇀ and holy fuck-

⇀ how knew you were so foine 🥴🥴

kenma's eyes widen when you suddenly pull off your shirt, your chest still slightly damp from the drink spilling on you. he could feel heat rushing to his face the longer he stared. kenma wanted to look away, he really did, but it was something about the way you rubbed your hands over your abs and chest to wipe off the moisture and the way you looked down with hooded eyes that had him entranced. he couldn't look away, and by the sight of the other people in the room also staring at you with no shame, they couldn't either.

despite being drunk, you could tell people were staring and it filled you with a sort of confidence you only got in the privacy of your room with kenma. speaking of kenma, he wasn't fairing any better. his head was turned to the side to look away, but his eyes betrayed him and stayed focused on your chest.

you smirked.

kenma gasped as you suddenly leaned forward, your hand slamming onto the wall next to him and the other pushing him by the hip, your cold fingers slithering up his shirt and sending chills up his spine. your breathe was warm next to his ear and kenma's blush intensified.

"see something you like, kitten?"

kenma's breathing began to get heavier the longer you whispered in his ear, his chest and pants tightening. kenma refused to look up, knowing half of the people in the gym were staring, but he would by lying if he said it didn't turn him on more than he already was.

your stopped whispering in kenma's ear and began trailing kisses down his jaw and neck, leaving marks behind. kenma had to bite his bottom lip to stop noises from escaping his mouth, but his restraint was limited due to the small amount of alcohol in his system.

your fingers traveled further up his shirt and caressed his waist, pulling him closer to you. pulling away from his neck, you turned to his lips, sucking and biting on them as if it would be the last time you would be able to. kenma's neck was littered with hickies that, even in the darkness of the gym, were extremely visible.

but before things could go any further, you were ripped away from kenma by a fuming daichi, "first you bring alcohol and get everyone drunk, then you try to fuck your boyfriend in the middle of the gym? i'm gonna kill you, y/n."

⇀ you were put on daichi watch for the rest of the night 😔🔫

⇀ but by the time 11 rolled around, you were a bit sober so i guess that's good

⇀ everyone gathered into he middle of the gym and counted down until midnight

⇀ kiyoko and yachi had hung some of those colour changing lights and gave the room some amazing vibes

⇀ and kenma was standing next to you, your arm slung over his shoulder as the lights hit his face perfectly and outlined every feature of his beautifully

⇀ you smiled down at him

"it's already 2021, huh?"

kenma looked up at you and immediately looked away when he saw that you were already looking at him. even after months of dating and nights spent in each other's embrace, he still got nervous when you looked at him the way you were right now.

eyes so full of love and lips pulled into a satisfied smile.

"yeah. . . i guess. . ."

you laughed and pulled him closer to your side, kenma stumbled a bit and grasped onto the new shirt you put on. it was a spare that you left behind in the clubroom one day.

"c'mon kenma! new year, new possibilities! what are your new years resolutions?"

kenma shrugged, burying his head deeper into your side, "i don't have any."

5 . . .

you smiled, "really?"

you looked back up at the digital clock kiyoko hung up on the wall just for new years, your smile never faltering. kenma loved that about you, your ability to smile no matter what. no matter the circumstances.

4 . . .

"what about you?" kenma asked, a small bubble of guilt building in his chest for not answering how he thought you wanted.

you looked down at him with the same lovesick eyes and satisfied smile, kenma felt his heart stop, "me?"

you looked back up at the clock, "hmm. . ."

3 . . .

"i think. . . " you drew out, a playful smile on your face when kenma pouted at your long answer. he slapped your chest when you laughed at him.

2 . . .

"i think," you tugged kenma in front of you and rested your chin on his head, a lazy smile drawn on your face as everyone else yelled about, excited for the new year.

1 . . .

"i think i have everything i could ever want right here."

HAPPY NEW YEARS!!

kenma gasped as you suddenly turned him around, lifting his face by the chin. everyone around you cheered as the clock hit 12 and it was now January 1, 2021.

kenma's heart pounded when he saw the same old lazy smirk on your face and the same old lovesick look in your eyes; but no matter how many times he's seen it, he would always feel the butterflies fluttering in hit stomach.

"happy new years, kenma." you whispered as you pulled him into a kiss.

what a way to start the new years.

⇀ everything after that was a blur

⇀ the party amping up as a way to start the new years and you were sure even daichi had a cup full of some unholy concoction of alcohol kiyoko made for him

⇀ when you woke up, you were in bed, kenma laying a your side.

⇀ with close on, y'nasties 👁

⇀ your head felt like it was going to explode and your stomach turned in ways it shouldn't

⇀ but you were too lazy to get outta bed

⇀ me 🤡

⇀ so you just pulled kenma closer and went back to sleep

⇀ dreaming of a happy future with the man in your arms

taglist:: @stickystrawberrysyrup @420-uwu @nvthvlyy @kaiwai @goshizaki-jun @thetrash-mammal @dprhvn @bakuhore

a/n :: i'll add the read more thing in the morning, i gotta start getting dressed for the new year party. this was kinda rushed too so sorry if it's a bit jumbled or something

[rafael-silva]

lean into me, I’ll catch you: a tarlos fic

The 126 paramedics get called to the scene of a bar fight, tension rising during the drive. The chaotic scene is cluttered with police presence, TK spotting Carlos’s patrol car upon arrival. Once inside the bar, TK gets thrown a sudden and painful curveball.

for bad things happen bingo: tarlos + hidden scar

hurt carlos reyes, worried tk strand, paramedic tk, hurt/comfort, emotional/hurt comfort, kisses, whump, comfort, angst with a happy ending

6.5k | rated T | on ao3

*****

The call comes in a little after lunch.

The crew had just finished cleaning up, all of them hanging out in the common area, keeping busy with various activities. Tommy is chatting with Judd in the corner, while TK, sitting on the kitchen counter, is engaged with Nancy in their own conversation. They restocked the ambulance after their last call and after making sure everything was on track there, relaxed and fell into an easy exchange filled with their usual playful banter and quirky back and forth. TK laughs at one of Nancy’s statements, his eyes wrinkling at the corners which elicits an equally hearty laugh from his partner.

Then the bell goes off, calling the paramedics to a scene of a bar fight with multiple injuries. TK hops off the counter and he and Nancy meet Tommy in the ambulance bay, TK sliding into the driver’s seat, Nancy into the passenger one, Tommy closing the doors behind her as she gets into the back. The sirens blare loudly as TK presses down on the gas petal and drives towards the heart of downtown Austin.

Halfway into their trip, the ambo radio springs to life.

“Be advised,” a dispatcher starts, “incoming report of an officer injured on scene.”

“Copy that,” Nancy replies into her radio. “We’re five minutes out.”

She looks over at TK and notices his grip on the steering wheel tightening and his facial expression hardens as he squares his jaw at the new information. She knows what’s going through his mind.

“We don’t know that it’s him,” Nancy says in a low, calm voice.

TK replies with a firm nod, swallowing. Having no further information on the identity of the injured officer or how bad the injury is, TK feels his head spiral towards the worst case scenario.

Silence falls upon the rig, the atmosphere turning sharp and tense and TK makes no indication of speaking or doing anything besides driving, really, his focus solely on arriving at the scene.

He tries his hardest to control his thoughts, but all the what ifs tug at him and feed into his fear of losing Carlos. He wills his heart to stop thumping against his ribcage as he rounds the corner, the bar in sight now. They’re so close, yet it feels eternities away.

TK parks next to a couple of other ambulances that have responded, the common red and blue lights bouncing off the buildings around. TK jumps out, making quick work of grabbing the medkit as Nancy shoulders the lifepak and Tommy emerges from the back. He’s fast on his feet, making his way through the bystanders and police presence and into the bar, Tommy and Nancy hot on his heels.

The scene is chaos, and it’s almost like a tornado had ripped through the bar. Broken chairs scattered around the space, turned tables, shattered pieces of glass littering the ground, crunching underneath TK’s boots as he strides in.

He pushes all that aside, heart hammering in his chest again as he holds his breath, and having seen Carlos’s patrol car outside moments ago, immediately scans the wrecked place for the officer.

Relief floods his body when his eyes land on Carlos standing with Officer Mitchell near the bar stools, both of them talking to two men, one wearing a red jacket and the other a baseball hat, as the officers attempt to calm them down and diffuse the situation. What little relief TK felt is quickly replaced with concern then, reading the tension in the air and knowing that his boyfriend is quite literally in the middle of it.

It appears those two men are the origin of the havoc, judging by the amount of cops hovering near them, taking statements from people around. TK notices how Carlos’s shoulders are rigid and his face stern as he speaks, sharing a fast look with his partner before returning his attention to the man in front of him.

TK looks away for a moment, to where the other officer is injured and that second is all it takes for a roar to erupt behind him and all hell breaks loose again.

TK isn’t exactly sure what happened as he turns around, but Mitchell jumps into action to keep Mr. Baseball Hat back while Mr. Red Jacket yells heatedly at the other man, scrambling to free himself from Carlos’s hold.

It takes TK’s mind a second to catch up with what’s happening and his heart sinks further seeing Carlos in the middle of the brawl.

TK wants to push through and pull Carlos to safety but he’s suddenly aware of a hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place. He doesn’t need to look to know that it’s Tommy. She most likely had read his mind, his team knowing him so well by now, as she anchors him next to her.

TK is vaguely aware of Nancy saying she’ll check over the hurt officer, but his eyes never leave Carlos, watching with drawn eyebrows as his boyfriend attempts to move Mr. Red Jacket backwards to separate to two angry men. He feels helpless standing there, although he knows deep down that he can’t get involved in the middle of this fight, that he doesn’t have the training for this, he wishes there were something he could do to protect Carlos. To make sure Carlos is okay and safe.

TK trusts that Carlos can handle himself, but it still doesn’t make this situation any easier. The two men don’t appear to be slowing down, fueled by rage and adrenaline, it appears that they’re overpowering Carlos and Mitchell.

Officers rush over to aid Carlos and Mitchell, but they reach them a little too late. TK feels his heart drop as he watches his boyfriend’s face morph into a wince, his eyebrows drawing together and eyes going wide at a realization. Carlos is momentarily frozen in place as the two men are taken down around him. But he doesn’t move after, blinking slowly now. And that’s the thing that keeps TK on edge.

TK himself stunned, remains in place, his eyes moving with Carlos as the taller man searches the crowd, eyes hazy, not really looking for anything in particular. But TK sees a spark of recognition when Carlos’s eyes eventually land on him.

TK can tell that Carlos relaxes ever so slightly, his brown eyes meeting TK’s worried green ones. The world narrows to the both of them, the sounds around them mute, movements in slow motion, and TK tries his hardest to understand what just happened. Because something isn’t right, Carlos not having moved an inch and is seemingly unaware of what’s happening around him. TK sees Mitchell speak to Carlos over her shoulder as she hauls Mr. Baseball Hat away, but Carlos makes no indication of having heard her.

And then TK gets his answer, catching the slow movement of Carlos’s hand moving to his stomach, and TK’s eyes widen at the large patch staining the officer’s uniform there.

It all clicks together then.

Stab wound, TK’s mind supplies.

The paramedic is all too aware of his quick breathing now, and his heart dropping into his knees as he watches Carlos sway dangerously to the side as he loses his balance, the patch getting bigger with each passing second.

And the way Carlos’s arm weakly reaches out towards him has TK springing into action, fleeing from Tommy’s hold as he pushes through the crowd to catch Carlos.

“Carlos is hurt!” He yells over his shoulder to his Captain, his heart in his throat now.

TK gets to Carlos just as he’s tumbling forward towards the dirty floor. TK drops his equipment as both arms instantly reach out to steady the officer, Carlos falling against his chest but TK, ready for the impact, keeps their balance as he takes on Carlos’s weight.

“Hey, hey,” TK says softly. “I got you, I got you.”

TK gently lowers Carlos down, the sudden appearance of the paramedic and Carlos nearly toppling over capturing the attention of the officers around as they regain their collective breath from handling the two men.

“Reyes?” TK hears someone call from above as he places his palm over Carlos’s stomach and applies pressure, receiving a groan from Carlos.

That grabs Mitchell’s attention and she turns around, grip still on the man and her eyes go big at seeing TK and her partner on the floor. She hands him off to another officer before she’s rushing to their side.

“Carlos! What the hell happened?” She asks TK, her voice filled with shock.

“He’s been stabbed,” TK replies, eyes not leaving Carlos’s face, who’s growing paler by the second. “Hang on, Carlos. You’re okay, just hang on.”

Before anyone else can speak, Tommy’s voice echoes.

“Coming through!”

TK only looks up then, seeing Tommy and Nancy crouch next to them and open the medical bags.

His attention back on Carlos, TK’s breath catches in his throat when he sees Carlos looking at him, eyes glassy, doing his best to focus on TK.

“TK?” Carlos breaths, his voice frail, almost afraid that he’s imagining the paramedic.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m right here,” TK is quick to comfort him, reading between the lines.

TK gives Carlos the best smile he could muster, hoping it’s not as shaky as it feels to him.

“Hurts,” Carlos wheezes, shutting his eyes when he feels added pressure on the wound.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, babe,” TK replies. “We gotta control this bleeding.”

Carlos sighs, face rolling to the side as he peels his eyelids open, finding TK again amidst the fog that is his vision.

The blood seeping through his fingers bring tears to TK’s eyes, and he swallows against his dry throat, trying to keep the tears at bay. It feels like Carlos is slipping from him, and he’s overcome with so much fear, visible in the shaking of his hands. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, heart racing and sweat rolling down his neck and back. He shakes himself out of it, knowing he has to stay strong and calm, for Carlos’s sake.

“You’re okay,” TK sniffs. “Stay with me, baby. Focus on me.”

“Always…you,” Carlos murmurs.

“TK, I need you to remove your hands for a moment,” Tommy instructs.

He meets her gaze with wide eyes, frantically shaking his head.

“I can’t—he’ll—he’ll lose more blood, I have to keep applying pressure,” TK responds, a tear escaping his eye.

“I’ll be quick,” Tommy promises. “I need to inspect the wound.”

After a moment, TK reluctantly pulls his hands back, immediately taking note of how Carlos’s face relaxes a little once the pressure is removed.

TK holds his breath, hand finding Carlos’s and gives it a squeeze, a reassurance that he’s right by his side. Carlos uses all the energy he could muster to return the squeeze.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” TK says as Tommy works, Nancy taking Carlos’s vitals.

Once Nancy finishes and reports Carlos’s numbers, which are low, she hands TK a large piece of gauze and then secures the IV line she started, prepping Carlos for transport.

“Okay,” Tommy nods once she’s done, moving back and TK doesn’t waste a second in covering Carlos’s wound with the gauze and pushing down.

The almost lack of response from Carlos is alarming, and TK looks at Tommy with broad glistening eyes, fear radiating from his green irises.

“He’s going into shock. We need to move now,” Tommy instructs.

A gurney seems to materialize next to them out of thin air, but TK minds no attention to where it came from as he and a couple of other officers lift Carlos off the ground and onto the gurney. The crowd parts as they move, TK keeping constant pressure on Carlos’s abdomen. Mitchell trails closely behind them, clutching her radio as she speaks into it.

They push Carlos into the ambulance, Tommy following and TK getting in after her.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Mitchell tells TK.

He nods as Nancy slams the doors shut and races to the driver’s seat.

The ride to the hospital is agonizing. TK watches as the oxygen mask Tommy placed over Carlos’s face fogs and clears with each weak breath he draws in, his face ashen and skin clammy to TK’s touch. The bleeding had slowed down a little, but there’s no way of knowing what kind of damage has been done internally.

Tommy discards the blood soaked gauze in favor of a fresh one, placing it over Carlos’s stomach and the pressures earns them a hiss from Carlos.

“You’re okay, babe, you’re okay,” TK says, running his thumb along Carlos’s knuckles. “We’re almost at the hospital, everything is going to be just fine.”

“Tired,” Carlos’s voice filters through the mask.

“I know, but you gotta say awake. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Carlos would do anything for TK, so he obliges with a small nod. He sucks in a wobbly breath, and lets it out slowly, eyes latched onto TK. There’s so much worry and fear engraved into TK’s forehead, the height of his fright on full display and Carlos wants to ease that pain and wants to wash away TK’s panic. So he gives TK his best smile, its small and uneven but TK understands.

“You’re okay,” TK nods.

They reach the hospital a few minutes later, the ambulance coming to a halt at the Emergency entrance and the doors are torn open a moment later.

It’s a fury of action from there, Tommy and TK pushing the gurney as Carlos fights against the darkness threatening to take over. He’s semi-aware of Tommy passing the information to the medical team as he’s being wheeled through the hospital hallway, then he directs all his attention to feeling TK’s hold on his hand, warm and steady, strong and reassuring. He sees TK’s face in his line of vision a few seconds later, he’s speaking but the sound doesn’t reach Carlos’s ears.

Then TK’s face is gone as quickly as it had appeared, along with his grounding hold.

A shiver runs through Carlos’s body and he realizes just how cold he is at the loss of TK’s touch. It’s the last thing he’s aware of as he loses the battle with the impending darkness, his eyes slowly slipping shut.

TK feels a piece of his heart being violently torn from him watching the team wheel Carlos away and into an elevator, taking him straight to surgery.

The doctor had reassured them they’ll do everything they can for Carlos, and those words weigh heavily on TK’s shoulders. He knows nothing is guaranteed, knows no promises can be made.

His head falls forward, his chin hitting his chest as he pleads and pleads that Carlos’s time isn’t up, that Carlos won’t be ripped away from him. Because this can’t be Carlos’s end, this can’t be their end. They’ve only just begin, there’s still so much he wants to do with Carlos, so much he wants to see and experience with him.

TK pleads that the I love you he just spoke won’t be the last time, or the last thing, he tells Carlos.

TK is looking at the elevator long after the doors have closed and he feels a hand land on his shoulder, the same way it had earlier at the bar.

“Come on, TK,” Tommy’s speaks in her motherly tone. “They said we can go to the waiting room on the surgical floor.”

TK nods, but makes no indication of movement. It’s when he sees Tommy and Nancy move towards the elevator that he does move, but in the direction of the stairs.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll take the stairs,” he says.

“Okay,” Tommy nods. “The stairs it is.”

TK turns to see Mitchell rushing over, and she quickly notices the drop in the paramedic’s shoulders.

“Is he…”

“They just took him to surgery,” TK tells her.

She nods, the concern for her partner clear on her face.

They climb the floors in silence, the echo of their boots on each step the only sound until they reach the surgical floor, easily finding the waiting room near the nurse’s station. They file in, TK dropping into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and resting his elbows on his tights. He leans forward, his hands folding into each other and he closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath.

He opens them and stares at his hand a few moments later, his stomach churning unnaturally at all the blood coating his skin, Carlos’s blood. He shudders and looks up when a few wet wipes appear in his vision.

Nancy is standing in front of him, holding them out with a sympathetic expression on her face. He gratefully accepts them and starts wiping the blood, the wipes turning pink with each stroke.

Once he’s finished, Nancy disposes the wipes in the trash, returning and taking a seat next to her partner. TK’s leg starts bouncing, his nervous energy palpable and evident in his movements and in the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I, uh,” TK breaks the silence, his voice small and low. “I need to call Carlos’s parents. I’ll be right back,” he gets up and walks out of the room, and with one more look in the direction of the operating rooms, makes his way downstairs and outside.

The sun is still hanging high in the sky when TK steps out of the emergency room entrance. It hasn’t been an hour since the paramedics arrived at the bar, but it feels like it's been a lifetime for him. It’s hot and the atmosphere is sticky with humidity, his Austin Fire t-shirt under his uniform clinging uncomfortably to his body.

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and opts to sit down on a nearby bench, opening his phone contacts and finding Andrea’s. His finger hovers over her name for a few moments as he steadiest himself, bringing the phone up to his ear once it starts ringing.

The line comes to life after a few rings, and the words get caught in TK’s throat.

“TK!” Andrea greets, her voice cheery and upbeat. “How are you, amor?”

“Mrs. Reyes,” TK starts and then pauses, letting out a shaky sigh. “Andrea…”

Andrea immediately picks up on TK’s broken tone, the concern hugging her next words. “TK, are you okay?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m okay, it’s…” TK’s voice quivers. “It’s Carlos. He…we were on a call and he got hurt.”

“Dios mio,” Andrea breaths out and TK can hear hustling in the background now. “What happened?”

“It all happened so quickly…we got called to a bar fight, and PD was already there, and Carlos and his partner were talking to two men. It seems like the fight was over but it suddenly started again and Carlos was in the middle of it,” TK sniffs, letting the tears run down his face. “We’re at the hospital now, I don’t—I can’t—” he hiccups.

“Breathe, TK. Take a breath,” Andrea guides him.

TK can hear the strength in Andrea’s voice, but he can also tell it wavers a little, the worry apparent alongside the steadiness.

“I’m sorry,” TK recovers. “I’m okay.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for, TK. And Carlitos will be okay, too,” Andrea replies. “He’s strong.”

TK holds onto her words with everything he’s got. He knows those words are for him, just as much as they are for her, as well.

TK nods, and it momentarily slips his mind that Andrea can’t see him. “Yes, ma’am. He’s the strongest person I know.”

“That’s it,” Andrea says. “Now tell me, which hospital are you at?”

TK returns to the waiting room after hanging up with Andrea, his eyes going a little wide with surprise when Owen and Judd get to their feet at his reappearance.

“Dad? Judd? What…” “I called them,” Tommy supplies from her seat. “It goes without saying that you’re off duty now, and we thought Owen should be with you.”

“But doesn’t your shift start soon?” Owen shakes his head. “I’m staying right here, Judd’s going to be Acting Captain during this shift.”

Deflated and drained, TK doesn’t find it in him to argue.

“I was on the phone with Judd when Tommy called and when I told him,” Owen starts.

“I wanted to be here to see how you were holding up, and to be here for Carlos, too,” Judd continues.

A ghost of a smile passes over TK’s face. “Thanks, Judd. That means everything.”

“Always, brother,” Judd replies, wrapping TK in a warm embrace.

TK feels like a little boy in Judd’s arms, holding onto the Texan and drawing strength from him. Judd tightens his grip on TK, knowing the younger man needs it and pats him on the shoulder a few times. TK nods against Judd’s shoulder in understanding.

*****

“I’m sorry.”

TK frowns, turning to face the source of the words.

“What are you talking about?” TK asks Mitchell.

They’ve been alone for twenty minutes; Judd had to leave for shift, while Tommy and Nancy got a call soon after and left, but not before TK promising to call or text if he needs anything and to update them on Carlos’s condition. Owen had left a little after that, on a quest to find food. Which had left TK and Mitchell sitting in silence.

“This is all my fault,” Mitchell shakes her head. “I didn’t see it, I was right there and…I let Carlos down, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no,” TK gets up from his seat and moves to the one next to her. “This wasn’t your fault, and you didn’t let him down. I know you always have his back, and that makes it a little easier watching him go to work every day. This…this is only one person’s fault, and it’s that man’s who intentionally hurt Carlos.”

Mitchell’s gaze remains on the floor, unable to look into TK’s eyes. “I was right there,” she repeats. “I should have seen it. I was right next to him. I can’t help but wonder if I had just been quicker…”

“It was chaos, everything was happening so quickly and it was a blur. I don’t even think Carlos saw it coming. It…came out of nowhere,” TK sighs. “I was watching you both and I looked away for one second, and I keep wondering if I just hadn’t looked away…maybe I would have seen it,” he confesses. “I was further away, maybe I would have caught it. The man moving to grab the knife or something.”

Mitchell does raise her head then and looks at TK, finding identical unshed tears in his eyes as in hers.

TK sighs again. “The truth is, what ifs aren’t going to help us now, and they won’t make this any easier. They’ll just drive us down a spiral that has no end, trust me, I know. All we have to focus on now is Carlos. He’s going to be okay.” TK turns to look out into the nearly empty hallway. “He has to be,” he whispers.

He sees Mitchell nod from the corner of his eye.

Mitchell was gone by the time Owen returns, carrying a couple of brown paper bags and three cups of what TK can tell is iced tea.

Owen frowns when he only sees his son there. “Where did Officer Mitchell go?”

“She had to leave, their Captain called. He needed her at the precinct to take her statement about what happened,” TK answers. “She’ll be back as soon as she can.”

Owen nods, setting everything on the table in the middle of the room and hands TK a cold cup.

“Thanks,” TK gratefully accepts the beverage and takes a small sip, reveling the coolness running down his parched throat.

“You should eat something,” Owen gestures to the paper bags.

“Maybe in a little bit, I’m not really hungry,” TK shakes his head.

Owen purses his lips but doesn’t push, instead he settles for a nod and a gentle pat to TK’s shoulder.

TK is nearly done with his iced tea when hurried footsteps break the drape of silence that had fallen on him and his father.

He looks up and sees Andrea through the glass window, a moment before she’s stepping into the room, her handbag clutched tightly at her side, brown eyes wide and face heavy with worry.

“TK, Owen,” she pants as both men get to their feet. “Any news yet?”

Owen shakes his head. “He’s been in there a while, we should be getting an update soon.”

Andrea nods and throws a glance over her shoulder in the direction of the big swinging doors. She sighs, turning back to look at TK, but he isn’t looking at her.

Instead, TK is looking down at his hands hanging in the air at his middle, busying themselves as he anxiously runs his fingers over each other.

“TK,” Andrea says softly as she approaches him. “Look at me, amor.”

Slowly, TK lifts his gaze to Andrea’s, a tear rolling down his cheek.

She gives him a small, sad smile and cups his face, wiping away the fallen tear. “It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

That’s all it takes for the dam inside TK to break, a sob tearing from his throat as his body shakes with the force of his tears.

“Come here,” Andrea whispers, placing her hand at the nape of TK’s neck and gently pulls him towards her.

He goes easily, returning the embrace as she wraps him in a hug and soothingly runs her other hand up and down his back.

“I got to him as fast as I could,” TK says, voice muffled against Andrea’s blouse.

“I know in my heart you did everything for our Carlitos,” Andrea replies as she pulls back, but keeps TK close.

“I wish,” he sniffs. “I wish I could have done more.”

“From what Tommy told me,” Owen’s voice comes from behind them, “you did everything in your power for him, TK. You saved his life.”

TK drops his head. “If I had seen the knife…maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Carlos would be safe, not in surgery.”

“You can’t put that weight on your shoulders, TK,” Andrea says.

TK then realizes that Andrea doesn't know the details of what happened. He meets her eyes and after a moment, explains. “He was…stabbed in the middle of that fight. I was far away from it, I didn’t take my eyes off him the whole time but I looked away for one second and that’s all it took. Maybe if I hadn’t looked away…”

Andrea is shaking her head, a tear sliding down her face but she keeps her attention on TK. “You got to him as quick as you can, remember? I hate that Carlitos got hurt, it aches my heart, but I’m glad you were right there, and I’m glad it was you, that you were by his side, doing whatever needed to be done to make sure he comes out of this okay. From what I’m hearing, it’s true, you saved my mijo, TK. And he’s going to pull through.”

TK nods and moves in for another hug, he and Andrea taking comfort and support from each other, leaning on one another. Their strong hold on each other is the only thing keeping them from shattering right then and there.

***** The silence, save for the beeping of the heart monitor, is eerie and daunting in Carlos’s hospital room.

TK’s been sitting by Carlos’s bedside for a little over ten minutes, but he hasn’t been able to utter a single word since falling into the chair situated by the bed.

It was two agonizing hours after Andrea’s arrival that a very exhausted doctor entered the waiting room and called for the family of Carlos Reyes. Perhaps TK’s silence had something to do with him still digesting the doctor’s report.

It was touch and go for a while but he made it through. Significant blood loss. Concerns about infection. Low blood pressure. Part of the colon was perforated but was successfully repaired. Jagged entry. Will leave a scar. Expected to make a full recovery with time.

TK focuses on the expected to make a full recovery portion of the report, not daring to believe any other outcome. It’s difficult, though, watching Carlos so still in front of him. The officer is a calm sleeper, but there are always small movements here and there, a soft sigh, a little twist and turn, an arm thrown over TK’s middle that pulls him close, and the absence of any of those movements is unnatural. Even his breathing is different.

TK takes small comfort in the fact that Carlos is breathing on his own, but it’s nothing like how he breaths while sleeping in their bed. The rhythm beats to a different drum, it’s not relaxed and peaceful in this hospital bed, it’s strained and on edge.

TK steadiest himself,  reaching out and taking Carlos’s hand into his own, giving it a light squeeze, hoping the officer can feel it.

“Hi, baby,” TK starts but abruptly stops, taken a little aback by how gruff and heavy his voice sounds. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’m right here, and you’re okay. The doctor told us everything went well and that you’ll be back on your feet in no time. Your mom is here, in the waiting room and your dad will be here soon, too. I…I really need you to pull through, babe. I need you. And I miss you. Come back to me, ‘Los,” TK brushes a soft kiss to Carlos’s forehead.

TK can’t help the disappointment that brews in his gut when he doesn’t get a response.

A gentle knock an hour later breaks TK from his haze, he looks to the door and sees Andrea and Gabriel standing there, meeting TK’s eyes for a moment before they drift to their son.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reyes, please come in,” TK says as he gets to his feet, hand still holding onto Carlos’s.

“How’s he doing?” Gabriel asks, his usual strong voice a little frail and low. The Ranger’s shoulders are fallen, too.

“He’s hanging in there,” TK reassures him. “His vitals are holding and he’s regaining color, all good signs.”

Andrea nods, stepping closer to the bed and cards her fingers through Carlos’s curls.

TK doesn’t want to leave Carlos’s side, but he knows his parents want and need some time with their son. Making up his mind, he looks at Andrea and then Gabriel.

“Please stay for as long as you need,” TK says. “I’ll go home to freshen up, change and pack a bag for Carlos and I.”

“TK…” Andrea tries but TK is quick to gently shake his head.

“You need some time with him,” he says with a small smile. “And I’m sure he’d love to hear your voices.” TK leans down and plants a kiss to Carlos’s cheek. “I’ll be back in a bit, babe.”

Gabriel squeezes TK’s shoulder when he walks by him, and TK replies with a nod in understanding, smile still on his face.

“And TK,” Andrea speaks before TK leaves the room. “Please try to eat something, too. You barely touched the food your father bought earlier.”

“Yes,” Gabriel agrees. “You have to keep your strength up, for your sake and for Carlitos’s. To take care of him.”

TK gives them another nod and his smile widens a little. With a last glance at Carlos, he leaves.

*****

The sun is climbing in the sky when it happens.

TK had given up on sleep, opting to walk around the room for a while to stretch his tired muscles before settling back in the chair next to Carlos’s bed. He’s scrolling aimlessly through his Instagram feed when his eyes catch the movement.

At first, he thinks his brain is playing a trick on him. Or maybe it’s the not sleeping. But then it happens again, and that has TK sitting up straight in his place, leaning forward towards Carlos.

“Carlos? Baby, can you hear me?” TK speaks, his voice a little rough around the edges.

He holds his breath as he watches Carlos wrinkle his nose, as he sometimes does before waking up. A few moments pass and then Carlos is slowly opening his eyes, finding TK’s through his blurry vision.

“TK?” Carlos whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” TK smiles at his boyfriend, eyes beginning to fill with tears. “You’re okay.”

TK reaches out and cups Carlos’s face, tenderly caressing his cheek. A tear rolls down TK’s face when Carlos leans into his touch, and feeling Carlos’s warmth against his skin lights up the flame inside him, the one that was dimmed the moment Carlos got hurt.

“What…” Carlos trails off as he swallows.

“You got hurt on a call, babe, but you’re okay now. You’re safe. I’m right here, I got you,” TK reassures him.

“You…always do,” Carlos gives TK the strongest smile he could muster.

“And I always will,” TK promises. “Get some more rest, baby. I’ll be right here when you wake up again.”

Carlos nods weakly. “I love you,” he expresses as his eyes begin to close.

“I love you, too,” TK reciprocates, bringing Carlos’s hand up to his lips and brushes a kiss to his knuckles.

And for the first time since he watched Carlos sway at that bar, TK can finally properly breathe.

*****

“Looking good, babe,” TK smiles from where he’s standing in the doorway of their bedroom, leaning against the doorframe.

Carlos smiles back, catching TK’s eyes in the mirror in front of him.

“Fits the same,” Carlos says, adjusting his name tag pinned to his uniform.

TK nods and steps into the bedroom, walking over to his boyfriend and wraps his arms around his middle from behind, pulling him into his chest.

Carlos leans back, placing his arms over TK’s as TK rests his chin on the officer’s shoulder.

They watch each other in the mirror as a comfortable silence settles over them and then TK moves his head slightly to place a kiss to Carlos’s clothed shoulder.

Then TK’s eyes roam down to Carlos’s stomach and he can almost see the hidden scar underneath the layers of Carlos’s uniform.

“I’ll be fine, Ty,” Carlos whispers, knowing very well where TK’s thoughts are taking him. “Everything checked out and I’ve been cleared for active duty.”

TK nods, but his eyes remain fixed where they are, and now TK can see the scar in his mind, etched into his memory along with the fear of almost losing the love of his life.

It’s his day off, and TK had hoped he’d be working the day Carlos went back into the field, just for the possibility of seeing him on calls and making sure he was okay with his own eyes.

The weeks following Carlos’s injury weren’t easy, for either of them. A bad infection had set in shortly after Carlos had woken up, which warranted a few more days at the hospital. Once the infection was treated, Carlos was cleared to go home, with strict instructions to take it slow and easy and  to have someone with him for at least the first week of his recovery. TK took time off, staying by Carlos’s side, and still shaken up himself, didn’t stray far for both their sakes. He, too, needing to make sure Carlos was okay, that the worst was over and behind them.

He had to return to work eventually, Carlos constantly telling him that I’ll be okay, I’ll call if I need anything. I don’t want to keep you from work, from people who need your help more than I do now. Which TK promptly replied to with I’m exactly where I want and need to be, babe.

TK and Andrea worked out a schedule a week later, to make sure Carlos was always taken care of and someone was close by as he healed.

Carlos did eventually begin to lean on others and to ask for help when he needed it throughout his recovery, which made Andrea and TK breathe a little easier.

It was hard for TK to leave him, his mind constantly on Carlos when they weren’t on a call. He always looked forward to going home to Carlos and taking him into his arms.

After a few trips to the doctor’s and reassurances that Carlos was healing up well, he was assigned to desk duty. He wasn’t the biggest fan of it but he was glad it meant one step closer to getting back into the field.

TK had his own reserves about that, trying to breach the conversation with Carlos but the words seemed to always stop in his throat. Until one night, while cuddling on the couch watching a movie, the words just spilled out of TK’s mouth.

I’m scared for you. I’ve always been scared for you but that day…I mean, knowing it could happen and actually seeing it happen are two different things and babe…

Carlos understood. I know how scary it was that day. I was scared. And there are no guarantees, in both our lines of work. I can’t promise that nothing is going to happen, but I can and will promise that I will always fight my hardest to come home to you. Every day.

After a final check up and a physical exam, Carlos was cleared for active duty two weeks later.

Which is how they find themselves wrapped in each other’s embrace, Carlos getting ready for his first shift back out there.

“Just…be careful, please,” TK says, lifting his eyes to meet Carlos’s beautiful brown ones.

Carlos breaks out of TK’s hold then, turning around to face the younger man and takes his face gently into his hands, both thumbs running over his cheekbones.

“I promise,” Carlos vows.

Carlos leans in, closing the distance between them with a soft kiss. It’s not urgent or heated, it’s calm and grounding, filled with reassurance and love.

TK smiles against Carlos’s lips as he returns it, getting lost in his boyfriend, soaking up everything Carlos is offering and giving his own.

Their foreheads touch when they pull back and they breathe together. They feel each other and their love, anchoring each other.

TK’s hand gravitates to Carlos’s middle, to the location of the scar and his fingers brush lightly against the fabric covering it. Like his own bullet scar, it’s a reminder of how close he and Carlos had gotten to losing each other, how close they had gotten to losing this. But thinking back to that moment on the couch, TK takes comfort in knowing he and Carlos would do anything and everything in their power to come back to one another.

TK believes in them, believes in their love. And while he gazes into Carlos’s eyes now, getting lost in his captivating brown irises, knows beyond a doubt that Carlos does, too.

That knowledge gives TK the strength to brush another soft kiss to Carlos’s lips and then pulls back, making sure his boyfriend’s uniform is pristine.

“I’ll be right here when you come back home,” TK cups Carlos’s cheek.

Carlos seals the promise with a kiss to the inside of TK’s palm.

[imgoingtofreakoutnow]

The club

Summary: You follow a new friend in a club and things get an unexpected turn...

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Other characters: OMC

Warnings: language!, mentions of blood and death and drugs (literal mentions, no one’s really hurt), happy and cute ending

A/n: I had a completely different idea in mind when I started this but I hope you still enjoy it anyway, I do ;)

Not my gif, credit to the rightful owner

Entering the dim club felt like stepping in the devil's nest: dirty walls covered with layers of damaged posters surrounded you as loud music shook the place to its bone together with the shouting of hundreds of people, all pushing around on the dancefloor. Neon lights flashed over every surface their bright, tacky colours, forcing you to constantly squint your eyes.

"I thought you said you knew a nice place" you shouted at the guy leading the way to a corner of the room where was placed a small counter. As you got closer, you noticed thankfully that the music wasn't so loud in that nook.

Your guide sat on a barstool and turned towards you with a smile, dimples appearing on his cheeks. "Why? Don't you think it's nice?"

The slimy floor sticking to your shoes didn't agree with him...

"At least the music is nice" you muttered as another song started and your eyes were drawn to the dancefloor.

There men and women were dancing, or what you guessed it was the way they were grinding all over one another. To you, it was both disgusting and mesmerising seeing how their bodies seemed to fit together so perfectly as they swayed with the strong rhythm of the music, as they couldn't belong anywhere else but with each other...

A pat on your shoulder distracted you and made you turn to... him. You had already forgotten his name - and asking it now would've been very akward - but he was funny, and his light humor was everything you needed.

"Fancy a drink?" he asked, sliding a glass with what looked like orange juice in it. "Vodka and pineapple juice". Close enough. “Hope you like it”

“Thanks”. You weren’t a huge fan of alcohol, so you just let your fingers run on the glass as you watched him taking a sip of his drink. The way his face squeezed at the sour taste made you laugh.

"I need to go to the bathroom real quick" he told you, jumping off the stool, "and then we'll hit the floor"

He winked at you, making an hopeless dance move. You laughed, nodding before watching him make his way through the tight crowd. Your gaze then moved to the drink as your throat felt more and more dry by the minute. You took the glass in your hand: a sip definitely wouldn’t hurt.

"I wouldn’t drink that, if I were you"

Your head tilted quickly towards the man who just spoke. A tall man, with large shoulders, dark hair and a suit. A freaking suit! In all your wanderings through the different clubs of New Orleans, you had never met anyone dressed up like that, not once! But honestly? As long as he looked so good in it, you could excuse him anything.

“Why so, Mr, Suit?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow with a smirk. "You want to offer me one as well?"

"As long as you give me that one"

He gently took the glass from your hand, slightly brushing your fingers, and then tilted it. You immediately noticed a strange powder on the clear bottom that still hadn't dissolved in the drink. At that sight, the color drained from your face.

"Hey!". A cold knife reached your ears. "I hope you're ready to-". Your friend stopped a foot away seeing the glare you shot him. It was a pity it wasn't enough to kill him.

You took the glass from Mr. Suit and got down your stool.

"Y/n, trust me" - he had his hands already up in defense and was slowly stepping backwards - "it's not what it looks like, I would've never took advantage of you. Just to loosen up and-"

You threw the content of your glass in his face. It was terribly satisfying seeing the thick liquid dripping down to the floor, even though seeing his blood would've made you much, much happier.

"Who do you think you are to decide if I want to loosen up?" you hissed, your hands shaking in anger and fear. "You have no right to make that choice for me!"

So many thoughts rushed through your head and thousands of words prickled your tongue. Nevertheless, there was only one thing that found its way out of your mouth: "Fuck you"

Before he could say anything else, before he tried to excuse himself again, you were already running to the door and out of that place.

As you stepped outside you finally were able to breathe again. The chilly night was a bliss after the stale, hot air of the club. However, your hands were still trembling.

"Are you alright?"

As Mr. Suit appeared, you quickly wiped away the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes with a bitter laugh.

"I don't know, how would you feel if someone you gave your trust tried to drug you to do who-knows-what?!"

He remained silent, his eyes glued on you. Scanning them, for a moment you felt like he had an answer to your question stuck on the tip of his tongue, ready to be told and surprise you. But it was just a moment.

"I'm sorry". You shook you head with a sigh, rubbing your eyes. "I shouldn't be angry at you, you're the one who saved me". A small smile found his way to your lips. "Thank you for that"

"It was the least I could do". His lip quirked upwards and his face suddenly lost all his seriousness to become pure light to your heart. "If you want, I could offer you a hot chocolate to help you recover from what happened. I know a nice cafe nearby"

The invitation caught you by surprise. "I- I would love to..." you started, "but maybe not tonight. Right now all I want is to drown in my bed sheets and just forget... everything"

He nodded. "I totally understand"

You smiled and then waved to catch the attention of a taxi driver. It didn't take long before one stopped.

"Thank you again for what you did" you said opening the cab door. “You’re probably the only thing worth remembering of tonight”

He smiled, reaching in one of his pockets before handing you his card. “If you ever want to reach me for that chocolate or for a talk, here’s my number”

You glanced at the piece of paper, his name written with elegant black swirls on the white textured card.

“I will take it into consideration, Mr. Mikaelson” you said with an overly formal tone as you sat in the backseat. “Goodnight”

“Goodnight” and he closed the cab door for you as the engine started again.

During the ride back home, you fidgeted the card in your hand and even when you were nicely tucked in your bed you still held it, your eyes drawn to that small rectangle of paper.

“Elijah Mikaelson”. The sound of his name rolled on your tongue like warm honey... you were definitely going to text him the following day.

Then, without even realizing it, you fell asleep, his card on your pillow and his name on your lips.

Tag list: @elijahswife @ronniemikaelson @hellotvshowtrash @raemikaelson @imaginearyparties @elijahs-wife @mikaelson-emma @dumble-daddy (tell me if you don't wanna be tagged💞)

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Female Reader x Gender Fluid! Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Arm Injuries, Several mentions of blood

Word Count: 1870 Words

Summary: A summoning gone awry ends up in your favor

Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, I know I literally just posted a demon story but this post showed up on my dash and my god if I have never been more inspired to write a fic. I legit wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy. Also I plan this story to be multi-chap, but still rather short, so maybe 3 parts in total

Before that night, you had never known what nearly-passing out felt like.

Your mother had done it, once or twice, usually after a particularly stressful day at the shop. If you didn’t check on her between your studies she may forget to eat entirely, your father as well. But you had been lucky; Someone had always been there to catch her, to cradle her head and spoon-feed her strength back.

On the forest floor, surrounded by the smell of your own blood, you have no such luxury.

The black spots flickering in your vision blend into the desne canopy above you and your tears only muddle your sight. The iron and copper of the summoning circle drawn around you drown out the scent of fresh pine and grass, while your ears can only focus on your own heartbeat and the bickering of the four boys.

Oh, that’s right, they’re still here.

It seems you had lost more fluid than you realized, probably because of your incessant crying. You had tried to stop the flow, but your brain was losing coherent function with every second. The boys conversation sounds far away and hollow, bouncing off your eardrums and confusing your sense of direction

“You idiot, I told you not to go for the arm!”

“We needed a lot of blood!”

“But she needs to read the ritual dumbass! She can’t if she dies!”

Ah yes, the ritual, it all is flooding back to you now.

Having received a private education from your father at your family’s apothecary, you were already prone to isolation as a child. It didn’t help having no siblings, nor a lacking natural talent for friend-making. Although you had lived in the city all your life, the young people your age knew very little about you, and you them.

You knew they had rumors about you, The daughter the apothecary hides away; That your gaze can turn people to stone, that you can curse and poison people with a couple words and the right ingredients.

The truth was you weren’t so glamorous. You knew your way around a medicine cabinet, sure, but nothing about poisons or magic spells. You didn’t have any special abilities to compensate or explain your reluctance for socialization. Just some overprotective parents and a shy disposition.

So when the handsome postmasters-son began to pay you special visits, you let your guard down. You let him walk you to and from the market, memorizing your weekend route. You let him in for a bit of tea late at night, especially when it seemed so cold, and told him where the spare key was kept. And yes, you even told him about your favorite secluded spot in the forest, where the sounds of civilization were far away, where you could be alone.

And here, in these last moments of your life, you can’t help but feel so naive.

“Hey, hey!”

A boot taps your cheek, shaking you out of your revelry. Your glassy eyes look over to your right.

It’s one of the local merchant’s boys, you think his name is Nicholas? It doesn’t really matter. All you knew about him was that he was a bit rough around the edges; always nicking things from pockets, looking up ladies skirts, and skipping his lessons. That’s what your dad complained about anyway.

A page is shoveled in front of you, dangling over your face. Your eyes take a while, but focus on the words. Nicholas’ boot heel digs into your neck.

“Read it out loud, or we’ll kill you.”

Clearly I’m going to die anyway dumbass, why should I help you?

You might’ve retorted, if you were in such a physical condition to do so. But instead, you do as you're told, and start speaking.

To your left, the postmaster’s son, Richard, sucks in a breath with anticipation. Any false composure he had while luring you here is gone, his feet tapping with excitement as he holds your left arm and lef bound spread eagle.

Holding your right leg is Markus, another merchant boy. He picks at his teeth.

“What are you guys going to wish for?” He whispers. It goes in your ear and out the other, too focused on forming coherent sentences.

“A full-harem of babes, obviously.” Simpers Hunter, the son of a landlord. He isn’t ugly, only a bit plain, and has enough money to boot. Compared to the other bachelors in town however, he has had little luck in procuring a courtship.

“A million coins could get you that and more, idiot. That’s what I’m wishing for.” Whispers Richard.

“What are you going to wish for Nic?” Asks Markus

“Oh my gods, will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Nic snarls, unconsciously digging his heel back into your throat. You choke and stutter, but keep going. The runes around you, written in your own blood, begin to glow.

All of the boy’s eyes widen and they step back from you. Your limbs sink like dead weight as the words begin to flow out your mouth with no thought. The paper with the chant drops to the ground, out of your sight, but it's like your brain has been reprogrammed; You know the rest, know it in your bones.

The grass begins to simmer and burn under the summoning circle, smoke swirling into formation above you. When the final word whispers out of you, you feel your body go lax. You don’t even remember tensing up

I guess this is it. Sorry Mom, Sorry Dad.

You clench your eyes, just hoping the demon will be quick. That it will at least leave a recognizable corpse.

“Holy shit.” You hear muttered, unsure by whom.

Your eyes are closed, body teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but your senses are still intact. A hot wave of breath washes over your face and the ground below you trembles with heavy footsteps. The boys are quiet but you can hear their hearts pounding. They thrum with life, while yours slowly fades.

“Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

Even half-dead, your muscles tense in fear. The demon's voice is deep and resonates like a crowd talking all at once. It reeks of inhuman power and cracks like thunder.

A brief silence passes, before Nicholas finds his courage.

“We have come to ask for a wish.”

Later, when recounting the story, you will mention that the demon looked over to Nicolas, unamused, despite never seeing it yourself. The demon huffs, the heat of it blowing over you once more.

“I don’t believe I asked you.” The demon mutters. The cacophony of voices blend together into one, bland and emotionless. Even in your state however, you are able to decipher a couple of louder tones which overpower the others. They seem...angry.

“But...you…”

“I asked….”

Your eyes snap open as a wet droplet lands on your cheek. Lingering above you, drool seeping from their unnaturally sharp teeth, is the creature. It’s face resembles that of a goat, but sharp fangs stick out from their lower lips. Their eyes are golden and shine in the night, piercing right into yours. Despite the part of your body screaming out in terror, another part feels oddly….comforted. It’s why you don't startle when they brush a hand against your cheek, their thumb wiping away your tears. Their palm is warm, not like a blistering flame, but like a thick quilt. Like hot chocolate on a rainy day.

“......What do you need of me, little one?”

Their hand, padded and calloused, slides down your arm, closing up the large gash on your inner bicep. In another movement, they do the same to the other. Power and vitality seems to sink back into your body, drip by drip.

Words escape you, but not Nicolas.

“Excuse me, demon, but we're the ones who summoned you.” The sarcastic tone of his does little to hide the quivers of his fear, especially when the demon's neck turns toward him at an unnatural speed. Still, he persists. “Not her. And we want-”

“Do you take me for a blind fool?” The voice bellows, sending all the boys to their knees. Markus clutches his ears while Hunter whimpers on the ground. Nicolas falls back to the ground, eyes widen.  The demon stands to their full height, several feet above all of you. “Do you think I was born without smell, without sense?” The step away from your body, swiping at the ground with their fingers, taking a small bit of your blood with it.

The demon sticks their thumb and forefinger in front of Nicolas’s face, causing him to yelp and fall onto his back. “Is this your blood which forged the connection? Was it your words that spoke me into existence? Was it your body which came to the brink, wrenched open the door and pulled us both through?”

Nicolas, trembling like a leaf, shakes his head no. The demon’s eyes jerk up to the others. “And was it any of these young men?”  

Richard furiously shakes his head, while Hunter stays collapsed on the ground. Markus pushes himself away, hands still clamped around his ears. The demon sneers, before turning and walking back to you.

The demon kneels before propping your upper body up with a gentle touch. A comforting claw rubs your lower back while another paw rubs the tension out of your shoulders.

“Now, mistress, what may you ask of me?”

Your muscles may no longer tire from blood loss, but your mind truly feels like it’s on the brink of breaking. The demon, with fearsome fangs and a soft look, looks to you for an answer.

“I-I…” You mutter as the demon continues to massage your back. They hum.

“Take your time, it is alright. Rituals are difficult, I can only imagine the toll your body feels.” The mass of voices have synchronized, fading from a hundred to a single, harmonious tune. It is cavernously deep, but pleasant. It reminds you of the portly older man who used to read stories aloud every holiday.

You feel your body unconsciously turn towards your captors. Nicholas stays stuck to the ground, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the darkness. The others have slowly moved to their knees, all terrified with shaky limbs, and look like they might make a run for it. Markus is slowly inching towards Nicholas’ shoulders, trying to lift him up to his senses.

For the first time in your life, a deep, boiling hatred burns your skin.

Cowards. You sneer, with all the malice stored in your reserves.

“I want-I want…” You stumble as the anger bubbles out of your belly. “I want them to hurt. To feel humiliated.” Nails bite into the palm of your hand, letting out blood as you clench knuckles. “I want everyone to know what they’ve done, who they are, every fault they’ve ever been guilty of. I want them alive, but I want them to burn.”

The demon smiles, pulling you in for a hug. You collapse into their embrace, keeping your eyes locked onto the boys, those rats. The demon hums a contented tune as they rub your back.

“As you wish, my master.”

[heliotropehotch]

dumbass - a.h. x reader

A/N: ty to @bucksgoat​ and pinterest for the idea for this fic

words: 1663

author: abby

warnings: gunshot wounds, breakups, mention of death (haley, its very brief) (ends in fluff!)

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Garcia asked, panicked, opening her office door for her best friend. 

“I can’t keep pretending like I’m not in pain,” she leaned against the door, sliding town to the floor. “I can’t keep pretending it didn’t hurt.”

“What did he even say to you?” Y/N shook her head, tears clouding her vision. 

“I thought if I acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t. But I was wrong. In the back of my head all day, I’ve just been thinking about what happened and what I could’ve done differently and it’s eating me alive, not being able to understand what was so horrible about me that he didn’t want me anymore,” she cried pulling her knees into her chest. “Penny, he took my lungs from my chest and now I’m suffocating.”

“Have you told any of this to Hotch?” she knelt down, putting a hand on Y/N’s knee. “Maybe if you just talked it out, he could explain-”

“I don’t know if I can handle that,” she sighed. “I can’t handle him looking me in the eyes and telling me I’m not good enough. God, you should’ve seen the look on his face; he was disgusted with me, repulsed.”

“Y/N, Hotch-” she began before being interrupted by a loud banging on the door. 

“Garcia,” his unmistakable voice rang out. “We’ve got a case, meet in the briefing room in 15.”

Y/N sighed, untensing her body as the familiar gait of his walk faded away, she looked again at her best friend, with soft, sad eyes. 

“You’re leaving, aren’t you,” Garcia’s eyes welled up. You gave her a sad smile.

“I’m headed to Strauss’s now to ask for a transfer. This’ll be my last case I think,” she stood up, dusting off the back of her suit pants. “I love you, Pen. Don’t cry okay? I’ll still come visit you.”

She walked out the office, head high as she traveled to Strauss’s lion’s den. Meanwhile, Penelope Garcia stormed to the briefing room, with a head full of anger and tears. Morgan’s eyes went wide from the window of the briefing room. “Uh Hotch?” he pointed at the bright woman whose face might actually blow. “I think you’ve got a storm coming.”

Aaron looked up from shuffling files in his hands, eyebrows in their constant furrow, the door swung open, causing a look of shock to grace his features. 

“Babygirl,” Morgan tried to calm her, but she blatantly ignored his words.

“Hotch, sir,” she began with steady breathing. “You need to do something.”

“Garcia, it’s really not any of your business,” he sighed. 

“See that’s where you’re wrong,” he raised his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look. It became my business once you became the reason why my best friend is transferring.”

“She’s what?” he asked softly in disbelief.

“Whoa, babygirl,” Morgan once again tried to intervene. “What are you talking about?”

She ignored him again. “I thought I knew why you did it but obviously not. What did you even say to her?”

Hotch looked down, ashamed. “Does it matter? If she hates me, then I’m not hurting her.”

“That’s the point!” Garcia all but shouted. “She doesn’t hate you. She absolutely and completely loves you. What she hates is herself,” she muttered the last part out.

“Wait she’s-”

“She’s questioning what the hell is wrong with her, is what she’s doing,” Garcia stood straight. “Sir, you have my complete and total respect one hundred percent of the time and what I say, I mean with that respect still here, but you were a total dumbass.”

Before he could see anything, the familiar clack of Y/N’s heels headed up the stairs. With a final look, Penny moved to sit down next to Morgan, who was still looking at her like she had grown a third eye. 

“Sorry I’m late,” she said sheepishly, barely loud enough for Hotch to hear it. She sat down next to Garcia, who’s hand immediately found hers in a comforting grasp. She noticed the eyes of her teammates on her, but refused to look at Hotch’s face. If she had, she would’ve seen guilt and worry. “What? Do I have something on my face?” she quickly swept under her eyes for stray tears. 

Hotch cleared his throat, distracting the team long enough to begin the briefing.

In West Virginia, in the Monongahela National Forest, a man had been capturing and killing people for sport. Both men and women in their early thirties had been picked up from the side of the road as hitchhikers and then taken to a small cabin to be literally slaughtered like animals. 

Now, at the residence, the team had the location surrounded, vest doting each of the members. Y/N entered the cabin, her gun drawn and focus centered on finding the unsub, with Hotch, Morgan, and Emily behind her. She found herself in a musty office, covered in old newspapers and various taxidermied animals hung on the walls.

In a recliner, sat an older man (as they had profiled) rifle drawn and aimed at her. The latest victim, Amy Townsend, was tied across the large wooden desk. 

“Richard,” Y/N said calmly. “I need you to put down your gun.”

“Not a chance in hell, sweetheart,” she grimaced at the nickname, as his arms tense and focused on his aim. 

“Your father used to take you hunting, didn’t he?” she asked, lowering her weapon. “He taught you everything you know.”

“And what of it?” he barked out. 

“I’m not here to hurt you,” she said calmly. “Not like he did.”

“You don’t know anything!” he shouted. The creak of a floorboard behind you signified someone else’s presence entering the room. Morgan attempted to make his way around to Amy. Richard’s eyes followed him.

“Hey, look at me,” Y/N redirected. “He’s just here to help her.”

“Bullshit.”

“We’re not going to hurt you Richard. Not if you just lower the gun and come with me. We just want to help.”

“Where were you to help when I was growing up?” he scoffed. “Where were you when my mamma had passed out from the pain?” he shouted, finger tightening against the trigger of the rifle. “Nah, I’m done with you. I’m done with liars.”

“Richard, don’t-” her voice was cut off by the blast of the gun hitting her shoulder. Morgan shot off a round, rendering the unsub. 

“Medic!” he shouted, running over to her as Emily rounded the corner and darted to Amy to help her. “Y/N, stay with me. Hotch! Where the fuck is the medic?”

“Morgan,” she got out, limply putting a hand against the one’s holding pressure on the wound. 

“Hey hey,” he hushed, wiping a stray tear from her eye. A gurney and EMTs began to crowd you. “It’s okay. Medic’s are here, we’re gonna take care of you.”

“Morgan, where’s Y/N-” Hotch’s words tied at the end of his tongue, finding her bloodied and weak form, eyes beginning to close. “Y/N?” 

To the best of her abilities, she turned to look at the man who had recently torn her heart out. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. And then her vision faded to black.

The rhythmic steady beeping of machines was the first thing she became aware of. Secondly, the sore, scratchy feeling in her throat. Then the warm fingers tightly wrapped around her own. 

A dark-haired head laid against the bed over folded arms. It wasn’t hard to imagine whose. With a grimace, she pulled her hand from his, causing him to sit up straight in his seat. Tired eyes met hers for the first time in what had felt like weeks. 

“You’re awake.” he noted softly, as she took in his face. Tired eyes, dark circles, worry lines ever so more prominent. 

“You’re still here,” her hoarse voice said. “Why?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “I had to make sure you were okay.”

“Sir,” the formality made him cringe. “Where is the rest of the team?”

“Out in the waiting room,” he sighed, moving closer to her. He didn’t ignore the way her body tensed. “Y/N we should talk.”

“Now?” she chuckled sadly. “I’ve only just woken up and you want to do this now?”

“Don’t transfer.”

Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “How did you-” she stopped herself. “I’m gonna kill Garcia.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Then what exactly did you mean to do?” she asked, angry now. “Because packing up your things and saying ‘we’re not right for each other’ definitely hurt, Aaron.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he sighed again. 

“Protecting me? From what?” his eyes were sad as they searched hers for the right words to say. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Y/N-” 

“From yourself?” she sighed, reaching for water. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know that. I’m sorry,” his voice shook as he looked to the ground ashamed. 

“Aaron,” she said softly, putting a hand on her cheek. “I’m not her.”

His eyes searched yours once again, tearing up. “I almost lost you today. I thought maybe if I could let you go, I could keep you away from all the danger I bring with me.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Aaron,” she smiled. “I chose this danger long before I chose you. You were just a bonus addition.”

He chuckled, kissing the palm of her hand. “Please forgive me, love.”

“I forgave you the moment you left,” she hummed. “But if you ever even think about doing that shit again, I’ll have Garcia personally beat you up.”

He chuckled again, “Understood. What about Strauss?”

“Strauss,” her confusion was evident once more, before chuckling herself. “I hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to her yet. Guess I’ll have to deal with your dumbass just a bit longer.”

[jawritter]

The Devil And I

Part 1

Summary: What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right? You survived after you thought your mate had died, but how will you survive finding out he's alive, only different.

Warning: Heartbreak, pining sickness, ABO dynamics, ABO, angst, tears, I think that's it for this part.

Pairing: Alpha!Demon Dean x Omega!Reader; Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1965

A/N: I decided to bring this little mini series over to you guys from Patreon because I have been so busy working on a series that I haven’t been able to write any new one shots, and you guys have been asking for some ABO. This is a little different from my normal ABO series, and it’s totally unbeta’d so all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

My Masterlist     Become A Patreon 

Life has a way of fucking with you. The things you thought you had gotten over and permanently walked away from have a way of coming right back around to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

It took years for you to get over Dean Winchester. Nights of panic attacks, nightmares, near death-inducing heartbreak, and suffocating grief that you honestly thought would be the death of you. Finally, one day at a time, you started to surface from your title wave of gut-wrenching emotions and heartache to start to live a little again at a time.

It has taken you years to get where you are now. To be able to get up and function like a normal person. To be able to eat something, and keep it down. To be able to sleep through the night, on most nights anyway. The only visible scar you carried on your body was your faded and disintegrating claiming mark that once marked you as Dean’s mate.

It was a miracle you had survived his rejection, and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t get pregnant through the whole ordeal, but to say Dean wasn’t exactly himself when he’d claimed you was an understatement. In fact, his eyes were normally not the bright green that was shining through the dimly lit bar you were both sitting in right now. They were, in fact, coal black when you met him, and they were black the last night you saw him.

You could scent him across the bar that you were working at when he walked in, and even though he scent was... different. Not as strong, not as sharp, more of the warm sandalwood, and pine than it was when he was with you. 

When he was with you there was a spice to it. Now that was gone.

You could tell by the way he’d held his body, and carried himself as he played pool with a tall man that you assumed was the “Sammy” he’d left you to confront, and the Omega that was with them, he wasn’t the same man. He didn’t seem as lethal, or like he could take on the whole bar with the very snap of his fingers like he had. He seemed… Well… Normal.

Dean had picked you up here at the bar one night when he came in alone, and you were drawn to him instantly. His scent was mouthwatering as it was now, and there was an almost supernatural pull that drew you to him. He took you in the back of his ‘67 Chevy, knotted you, claimed you, and that’s how you learned of the world of angels and demons. Most importantly that Dean wasn’t exactly human, and he owned you as well as your very soul.

You suppressed a whine and forced yourself to look down at the beer in front of you; peeling the label with your fingers as you tried to focus on the bottle in front of you and not the green-eyed man that was at one time your Alpha, but now was so different.

You could hear his boom of a laugh from across the crowd of people, and your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest anew. Well, what was left of a heart anyway. You thought it had all died by now, apparently, there was a little bit left.

When the pining sickness had finally left, and you miraculously survived it, you were convinced that Dean had died. That’s why the mark he’d left on you was fading, and that’s why he never came back for you.

Dean would always come back. Sure, sometimes it was covered in head to toe with someone else’s blood; but town to town, city to city, he never left you behind.

Dean was twisted, and he liked things hard, rough, and bloody, but sometimes there was a softness there that made you wonder what kind of man you used to be, now you knew, because it was standing right in front of you.

“You okay miss?” a young man asked you as he walked by your table, and you hurriedly wiped the tears away that you hadn’t even realized had fallen until the young man had got your attention away from Dean and his pool stick he was leaning on.

You cleared your throat and nodded before answering him.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice so small that you barely heard it yourself above the sounds of the bar that filled the room.

The young man’s eyes followed the path of your previous gaze before landing back on you.

“That asshole Alpha do something to hurt you, Omega, the one that is leaning against the pool table?” he asked, but you just shook your head no, and after staring at you a few more seconds he gave up and turned to leave you in your misery.

You knew you had to get up and walk out of this bar, that people were going to notice that you were a mess, and you were going to attract unwanted attention from the other Alpha’s in the bar, but you just didn’t have it in you.

It was like some invisible force you had no control over was holding you to your seat, and even if you tried to stand up, your legs would collapse from under you, and you would then just be a puddle of nothing on the floor.

You watched every move Dean made. The way his body angled as he lined up his shot on the pool table, the way his tongue peeked out of his lips just enough to see the tip while he furrowed his brow in concentration.

Everything about him was so familiar but so different all at the same time. He was still just as beautiful, just as strong and heartbreakingly handsome. Still, he wasn’t the same Alpha that had claimed you. The mark on his arm was gone, and the scent was slightly different. It was almost like the demon had become the man again, and you were just left behind, and all but forgotten about.

The game of pool ended, and the winnings were split amongst Dean and the two other men playing against him and Sam, then after it was over Dean downed the rest of his beer as Sam slung his arm around his Omega, and they all turned to make their way out of the bar.

This was it, Dean was leaving again, and he was leaving without you. You felt like your chest had literally been slip open, and that you were about to die right there in that corner booth. You didn’t even realize you were following them until the cold night air hit your tear-streaked face, and the railing of the small porch attached to the front of the old wood-framed bar stopped you.

You weren’t the only one that noticed you had followed the three out of the bar. Sam’s Omega grabbed at his shirt and pulled until she got his attention, then pointed at you. You were frozen to the spot, too scared to move. The hazel eyes of the tall Alpha watched you for a moment, but you just couldn’t move.

Finally, Sam cleared his throat to get his brother’s attention, and Dean followed his gaze. One foot in the driver side door of the Impala, and his impressive frame hidden mostly behind the door.

You watched as Dean’s brow furrowed in confusion as his eyes raked over your trembling form before looking at Sam, who was looking between yourself and Dean. Both men shared a tense glance as if having some sort of silent conversation between themselves before Dean’s eyes found your own again. Even though the blurred, tear-stained vision you had, you could see how his green eyes sparkled against the darkness of the parking lot.

Looking at him this close, you could see the darkness that once was there was lifted; the man that you always assumed was underneath on full display.

“Omega,” he said, the deep tremble of his voice shooting through your shell shocked brain, making you flinch back as his voice seemed to send a joist of electricity directly to the claiming mark that was all but gone now.

“Omega, are you okay?” Sam asked, and you shot a wild gaze in his direction before your eyes fell back on Dean, who was gradually making his way closer to you, leaving the door open to his ‘67 Impala.

You could feel every fiber of your being pulling you towards the man that used to be your Alpha as if your body was calling out to him, and you wondered if he could feel it too. There was no way you could ask him because right now all you could do was cry.

Sam kept his distance but kept his eyes on you as Dean approached you slowly with his hands raised as if to show you he meant you no harm. The closer he got the stronger his scent seemed to become.

“Dean,” Sam said, a warning in his voice, and Dean shot a look at his brother that you didn’t understand. All you could understand was that this was your Alpha, and he didn’t even recognize you. You could see it in the way he moved, in his eyes.

Then he saw it. The faded claiming mark on your throat, and you watched as he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat.

He was close enough to grab you before he finally reached his hand out for you to take. “Omega, where is your Alpha?” he asked, still completely unaware that your Alpha was standing there asking you the very question everyone else was thinking; the one you had thought for months.

“You… You don’t know… Do you?” you finally made your own voice work enough to ask him. He turned his head in confusion and took a step closer to you. When he did, in a fit of bravery, you grabbed his large calloused hand and placed it directly over your faded calming mark.

You watched as his pupils dilated, and recognition swept over his face. He almost stumped as he pulled his hand away from your neck, around three shades paler than he was a moment ago.

“Dean?” Sam asked, and you vaguely noticed that his Omega was now standing very close to his right arm with her hand on his bicep.

“She… She’s my Omega… I claimed her when I was a demon,” Dean said, his eyes locked on yours, and you were pretty sure he could see your pulse racing just under your skin.

You were a shaking, trembling, mess standing there in front of the man that once was your Alpha. You felt like your world was spinning around you, and knew if he rejected you right now, and walked away from you again you’d never live through it. Not this time.

“Your, I’m sorry what?” Sam asked, sharing a look from his Omega to Dean.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean said, shaking his head as he took a good step back from. You grabbed the railing for support, and looked down at your feet, unable to look at the man that was once your Alpha.

“Dean, she’s not gonna…”

“I know Sam!” Dean yelled before his brother could finish his statement, and you almost hit your knees.

Dean instinctively reached out and caught you in his strong hold, and his scent surrounded you so thick that you felt like it was seeping through our very skin. The world started to fade from your vision, and the next thing you remember was everything going black around you.

Pt. 2 here

Forever Tags;

@deandreamernp​

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 @emoryhemsworth​ 

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel​ 

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@hearteyes-j2​

@miss-nerd95​ 

@writers-whirlwind​

@peaches007​

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ABO Forever: 

@lyarr24​

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Dean’s ABO

@akshi8278​

@love-jackles-37-blog​

[kikilefangirl]

Owed

Steve Rogers x Reader

(Word Count: 1377)

(Found this gif on Google images, so credit to whoever made it)

“Right this way, Miss.” 

You followed the security guard through the gala’s main entrance hall. 

Adorned with sparkling jewelry all through your hair, and matching diamond and ruby necklace and ring set, you were a vision in red. Your form fitting, crimson gown had a wide side slit, offset by your black velvet gloves. 

Eyes were drawn to you as you all but glided across the room. The chandelier bathed your brown skin in a warm glow. On your first sweep you spied three generals, quite a few senators, and a room full of dutiful donors and their plus ones. Not one journalist. 

“We need exactly forty-six minutes and eighteen seconds,” Mo, a crew member of yours, told you over comms. If they needed it, you’d get it. 

“Alright, just get it done.” You replied under your breath. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Mo responded and the line cut out. You grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter and took a sip. 

“Care for a dance, doll?” 

You were getting sloppy on the job. You had to be, because to miss such an obstacle as Captain America and whatever other agents he brought with him, would have never happened five years ago. You shook off your surprise and smiled, your lips parting to show white teeth. 

“I don’t know, a dance with a handsome stranger seems too cliché,” You teased. He lit up at his supposed anonymity.

“Steve. Do I get upgraded from stranger enough for a dance?” He persisted, but made no moves toward you. 

What a gentleman, you thought to yourself.

“I guess you do,” You lifted your gloved arm to him, expectantly.

Steve gently squeezed your hand and led you to the dance floor. The two of you were a perfect fit as you swayed across the room. Other guests gawked, with either jealousy or curiosity, you didn’t know. As the song ended the two of you stood, still close enough together for your breaths to intermingle.

During your dance you counted the two agents Steve brought with them out of the corner of your eye. One was a woman, blonde. Probably SHIELD. The other was a man with a gap toothed grin. He didn’t move like a regular agent, but definitely trained. 

You needed more time. 

“Thanks for the dance, Steve. See you around,” You said, sounding as flippant as you could.

As you pulled away, Steve whirled in front of you offering his arm. You linked yours with his and smirked up at him as he led through the crowd. He leaned down to your ear. 

“Gorgeous, your face didn’t come up once on the guest list,” he whispered. You didn’t react, allowing him to guide you further away from the crowd. 

“Since I’ve been made, I gotta say you’re a great dance partner, Captain.” You countered. 

The male agent was waiting for the two of you in a corner off to the side. Steve’s grip tightened, pulling you closer to him. In a threat assessment, Steve wanted you more towards him than his second in command. A selfless leader willing to put his life in danger over his team’s. 

So he was as much of a dream in real life as he was in your history books growing up.

“Why is it always the fine ones?” Number Two complained as Steve sat you down. You were flanked on either side, quite literally backed into a corner. 

“Nine minutes and twenty three seconds, remaining,” Mo called out in your earpiece. You didn’t reply. Instead, you caught a glimpse of the female making the rounds, most likely checking for any others. 

“You can call your girl off, I don’t bite.” You teased. Steve folded his arms over each other and leaned towards you. 

“Why are you here?” He asked. His lips twitched and he coughed when he caught you staring at them. You looked him in the eye with no shame. 

They were nice lips for a white guy.

“You know, I didn’t peg you as the type who only protects rich white folk, but I guess that’s why your partner’s here. To look out for the rest of us,” Your eyes flicked over to the dark skinned man. He was refreshing, really. 

“I’ll ask again: why are you here?” Steve demanded through a tight lipped smile. To spectators, it looked like you and the captain were flirting, so they tried to avert their gazes.

“You play with toys, Captain. I do business.” You stated, not missing a beat. 

You removed a ruby ring from your gloved hand and sat it across the table. Both men watched you and it like hawks. 

“I take what I am owed by my country, because my country didn’t love me enough to do right by me the first time. Your partner understands.” You said in a breathy voice. 

“I get paid just fine.” He told you. You were right about him not being an agent. You could feel the military bravado coming off him from a mile away. 

“Two minutes.” Mo said. You smirked. 

“Sure you do, soldier. But do you get paid his bucks?” You asked him, never sparing Steve a glance. 

You had a feeling the answer was no. 

“I have a pension with seventy years worth of interest on it. Now, what’s your name?” 

You smiled and turned towards him. Finally, a better question.

“Y/N. Ask your friend Bucky about me. I doubt he’s here, so ask him when—“

Steve cut you off. The games were over with. His expression darkened, his blue eyes harsher than when they first appeared. 

“You’re stalling. Fan out and find whoever she’s protecting.” He ordered. 

Both the soldier and the agent separated to look for your crew. They were long gone. Steve’s iron grip kept you in place, the advantages of a super soldier. 

“Pro-tip Captain, it’s only stalling if you need the extra time. I just like hearing you talk.” You admitted. 

Taking your free hand, you flagged down a waiter. As he drew nearer, your eyes turned a startling shade of purple and so did the waiter’s. Before Steve could react, you used your power to get inside the poor waiter’s head and made him see the single most person he wanted to hurt. 

It was an older man, probably his father. Predictable. 

The waiter launched himself at Steve before he could react, and the hand that gripped you was no more. You slid out from the  small booth and out in the open. The man was going rabid, but Steve was fending him off in the nicest possible way. The attention of the crowd was on them, but the soldier from earlier wasn’t as easily fooled. 

“I’m on her.” He replied, pushed through the masses to get to you. 

“Sorry, man. I hate to do this to a brother, but...” You trailed off, and your eyes flashed purple again. 

You made him see what he wanted most. This time the man, Sam, was stuck in a vision about him, dawning the Captain’s shield. Go figure. Sam stood stock still, his dark eyes turned a vibrant purple. You slipped out of the front door into a waiting car. 

As the driver sped off, you could see Steve bounding down the street after you. He recovered from your little sideshow, and was gaining on you. Damn, he was good. 

Opening up the skylight, you made eye contact with him, stopping him in his tracks. The vision was of you and him dancing like you had been doing only an hour ago. 

So he was a romantic at heart. 

You sat back down and used your powers to nudge Steve closer to the curb. You had no doubt that the man could take the hit, but there was something about him that stopped you from allowing it to happen. 

Besides, incoming traffic honked and swerved to avoid being hit by you or him, anyway. No civilian would be seriously injured and your stunt put enough distance between the two of you that you weren’t followed. 

“All thirty mil is accounted for and ready for distribution.” Mo sounded off. You smiled and fingered your diamond necklace. 

“Great work everyone, you know what to do,” you praised your team through your earpiece. The only bumps in the plan came from your end. You clicked off your comms and put it in your purse. 

As you sat back in your seat and pulled up the partition, your mind drifted to the Captain. You went off into the night with the memory of a handsome man who kept you on your toes all night. It was a shame you couldn’t enjoy him longer. 

“Goodnight, Steve.” You whispered. 

A secret goodbye to a man who wasn’t yours and would never hear it. 

      ��                                             …

“JARVIS, I need you to ID someone for me. Keyword: Y/N.” 

Steve was standing in Avengers Tower in an undershirt and the dress pants he had on earlier. He was staring intensely at the only image the camera could get of the jaw dropping woman who bested him. He blushed just thinking of the images you made him see. 

“She’s in the wind, man. And that’s probably a fake name.” Sam chimed in as he entered the room, yawning.

“She made me see things,” Steve started, but Sam threw his hand up with a look of almost guilt in his eyes.

Steve elected to ignore that. 

“Sir, there is no record of a Y/N ever existing.” JARVIS stated.

Steve clenched his jaw and thought back to what you said about Bucky. 

“JARVIS, pull up Hydra’s enhanced program. I doubt we’d get a name, but a list of abilities and weaknesses will do. Cross reference with any known or suspected holding facilities Bucky was in.” He ordered. 

Sucking in a breath, he still smelled hints of your perfume. It had been so long since he held a woman without the last name Carter. It was different, but he enjoyed it right up until the part where Sam said you were an uninvited guest with no ID. 

Steve had the worst luck with women. 

JARVIS pinged up a short list of Hydra experiments. 

Only one fit.

“Sam, can you go wake up, Buck. We need to talk to him about his ex-cellmate.” 

[lizzy-williams]

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞 | 𝐛.𝐛.

༄Warnings: Smut, blood/gore, language, mature themes, 18+, minors DNI

༄Masterlist

༄Summary: You're a creature as old as time. And Bucky is entranced by you. (vampire!reader x Bucky)

The moment that Bucky saw you, he was completely enamored. Looking at you was seemingly a gift. You were dressed like an angel, a white cocktail dress with shoes and gold hoops to match. Simple, and yet would be like a beacon of light; a flame and Bucky was nothing but a mere moth just like the other gentleman whose prying eyes made his blood boil.

Possession was all he could feel as he finally made his decision to get up from his sulking corner and go out on the dance floor, where you were surrounded by men who were desperate to get a taste.

Grabbing hands, tentative stares, and desperate body language surrounded you as you danced without a care in the world. As if there was no one watching, your own little world surrounding you.

As Bucky finally pushed his way through the crowd of horny and otherwise intoxicated men, he finally was able to see your body in full view. To say the least, he liked what he saw.

Finally, he slid up behind you, making a bold move and placing his gloved hands on your hips. The moment your eyes locked with his was the moment he knew that there was no escape, and maybe he was okay with that.

You suddenly turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pulled you close, swaying to the beats echoing through the building. Other men looked to him in envy, but Bucky couldn't care less, not when he was staring at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

Your skin was flawless, your hair perfect, your curves fitting against his hands like a puzzle piece. The lights blared on around you two as you felt him press himself as close as he could to you, your touch like a drug.

You then caught sight of his dangling dog tags against his red Henley, and you smirked as you looked at him, "What brings you here, soldier boy...?" you tease as you look at him intently for an answer.

Bucky stuttered on his thoughts as he tried to think straight, "Uhm, I was just with a couple of friends, and I think I'm kind of just... on my own now...," he admitted, "What about you?"

"Looking for someone to pass the time with." you admitted truthfully, and of course he would never understand the gravity of your response, barely anyone ever could.

"Well, look to farther," he smirked, pulling you closer to his hulking form.

You suddenly pulled away and slipped out of his grasp impressively quickly.

"Where are you going?" he called over the blast of the music.

You turned around, giving him a playful smirk, before calling back, "Going to get a drink!"

And like a moth drawn to a flame, he followed closely behind.

"You're so full of shit!"

Your laughter was music to Bucky's ears as he leaned against the bar as you sat in a seat, sipping of a Gin & Tonic with a bendy straw.

"It's the truth," he put his hand over his heart with false sincerity.

"There's no way you stayed in Wakanda and met the king. Interesting story, but I doubt it," you jabbed back.

"Believe what you want to believe, but I have." he swore, taking another swig of a bear he knew he couldn't get drunk off of, "Alright then, Miss Cynical, what have you got in the arsenal. You've had to have had some sort of misadventures,"

She paused but only for a second. She has seen many, many things. If only he knew.

"Umm... let's see... I've traveled to 72 of the 195 countries in the world. Lived in Romania for 4 years, France for 2, but I figured after being in the U.K. for 12, I thought it was time to come home."

"So your American?"

"Originally, yes."

"Huh. It's just that you have an accent and... I just can't quite seem to place it."

Bucky would know. He had traveled many years as well. More than he'd care to remember.

You brushed it off, "I take it you've had your fair share of 'misadventures'?" you jabbed back.

"If only you knew."

The hours passed quickly, and by 2 in the morning, people began to filter out one by one, and finally, you decided it was time to take your leave as well.

But you really didn't want to. You had the most interesting conversations you'd had in decades. He was truly a man out of time. Literally. He let it slip about the Avengers, and to say the least, it opened up a can of worms.

He was oddly open about most things. How he was with the Avengers, how he was taken in the snap (you, however, weren't), and how he really did stay in Wakanda. But he spoke of nothing farther back than that.

You decided not to pry. If you knew one thing, it was that people had secrets, and they could get very good at hiding them.

Finally, the two of you decided to shuffle your way to the door, and once you swung it open, you immediately regretted not getting an uber before getting there.

It was pouring rain, the thunder now clearly heard now that there wasn't any blaring music to block it out. Bucky looked at you suggestively.

"It's fine, I... I can call a cab or something," you tried, but Bucky wasn't having any of it.

"Come on, doll, I can give you a ride home."

The two of you quickly ran out into the rain as he used his jacket to cover the both of you, and yet despite the rain, he still walked to the passenger side with you and opened the door, a gentlemanly smile on his features.

Once he got in, he reached to turn the car on but was stopped in his tracks. Next to him, he saw you looking up out of the windshield on the end of the sheet, watching the rain as it fell and slipped down the glass. You had seen rain millions of times before. But every time you did, it made you pause and remember the life you had lived; the things you had seen.

You felt a pair of eyes staring, and you pulled your gaze away from the water droplets to look at the culprit.

"What?" you asked, and Bucky just grabbed you, your lips meeting his, the sound of the rain hitting the metal of the car making the moment that much more special.

You made the bold decision to mount his lap, your tongue mangling with his as you just... felt. It had been a while since you had done that.

The kiss seemed to last for eternity as you softly ground on his growing erection, his breathing picking up. You started to go lower, your lips meeting his jaw as you took a desperate inhale of air against his flesh.

"I can smell the sunlight on your skin," you finally muttered, your hands on his biceps, "You smell so good...,"

"I'm flattered," he nervously chuckled.

Finally, you pulled back, and Bucky gave you a confused, otherwise terrified glance. That was when you noticed that your fangs were out, the moonlight outside the tinted windows of the car.

"Are you scared?" you muttered, knowing that you were going to get what you wanted whether he liked it or not. But you would rather him be conscious and willing.

His look of confusion morphed into something more. Something darker. Lustful. Taking his thumb, he reached up and pushed your top lip up and exposed your canine at the root. He then looked you dead in the eyes, shaking his head 'no' softly.

He then took one of his gloves off. Soon enough his whole jacket was off, and he revealed a harsh metal arm that beamed just as brightly. Who were you to judge? You refused to pry. You knew what it was like for society to hate you because you weren't what they wanted you to be. You move your hands up and down the sleek metal, the plates shifting as your fingertips grazed it.

You gave him a compassionate smile, leaning over and whispering "It'll only hurt for a second, but it'll start to feel good, I promise."

You went lower before giving a gentle kiss to a spot on his neck —a warning — before biting deeply into his neck as he let out a pornographic moan.

His blood was intoxicating. Like plums, whisky, and a sharp spike of mint. His flavors were vivid, addictive, and you let out a verbal moan as you tasted him on your tongue.

You suddenly jerked your head back, a gasp leaving your mouth as your lips parted, your eyes searching his, "What are you?" you pried, confusion etched across your face, your hands now holding his face.

"I'm whatever you want me to be."

That was true. At this point, even he didn't know what he was, everything that he was, a blurry memory. A soldier. A lady's man. A best friend. A fighter. Now he didn't know what he was. He was hoping that you could help him figure that out.

Assuming you weren't going to get a definitive answer, yet at least, you brushed it off, pressing a loving kiss to his forehead, before leaning down and sucking more of his sweet, addicting blood from his veins, another groan leaving his mouth as he leaned his head to the side, giving you more access, your hungry tongue probing and licking.

His hands wandered eagerly, grabbing whatever it could on your body as he tried to catch his breath, his body suddenly relaxing, his body no longer feeling pain but rather absolute pleasure.

His head was now cocked up as he gasped for air, feeling as if the air was sucked from his lungs, not in malice but in pleasure as he felt his body well up with heat.

You pulled yourself away from him, pricking your finger on one of your teeth and rubbing it on his bite marks, the gashes closing up almost instantly.

Bucky then weakly reached up, now cupping your face in his hands, speechless.

"Can I keep you?" you whispered in a hushed tone, your crimson-red eyes meeting his crystal blues.

Bucky nodded, enveloped in your gaze.

The words that came out next slipped out before he could stop them:

"Wanna head back to my place?"

The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated as you fell through the opening doors of the elevator of his apartment complex. You stumbled down that hall in an unsynchronized jumble of needy grabs and touches.

Bucky finally reached the door, grabbing his key and trying to put it in the lock, missing the mark completely and dropping his key to the ground.

Begrudgingly he broke the kiss and frantically shoved it in the lock, unlocking the door and slamming the door open, the two of you tumbling inside and letting your lips lock once again.

You were able to catch a glimpse at your environment when you broke the kiss, noticing how Bucky must have truly been a minimalist.

"Nice place," you joked, smirking at him.

"What can I say? I like a tidy home."

He then wrapped his hands around yours and pulled you to the bedroom. Your dress almost disappeared like a rabbit in a hat, you didn't even feel it leave your body as he tore it off, the only indication was the cool temperature hitting your skin.

Bucky was delighted to find you weren't wearing a bra as he leaned over you, his lips immediately finding your exposed chest. You mewled as his tongue probed at your nipple, using his flesh hand to tweak and pinch the other.

You felt yourself get hotter despite your normally cool temperature, and you loved it. You had spent so long looking for a man like Bucky to make you feel like a little girl all over again. To make you hot. To make you feel like maybe your life was taken from you just so you could meet him.

You bucked your hips up to the erection he had been sporting since you pierced his neck. He let out a primal growl, taking off your panties, leaving you completely nude.

"So fucking gorgeous, like a goddess," he praised before driving in between your necks, wasting no time licking a wide strip up your sex, making you whine in surprise.

Your attempts to make him go faster here futile as you bucked your hips, gripping his hair like a vice. You verbally whined as you tried to get him to do something— anything— but your patience began to wane.

Even though Bucky's go-to tactic was to tease his women until they couldn't take it anymore, he had never met you.

Before he knew it, you moved quickly, standing him up and flinging him on the bed face-up, your hips over his face in seconds, your hand stroking his hair gently.

Bucky stared up at you in shock and awe, nobody has ever thrown him around. He certainly wasn't opposed. His shock turned into pure, unfiltered lust, his hands placed on your thighs, hungrily pulling your pussy to meet his lips, where he then ate you like a man starved.

Using his hair and an anchor, you ground yourself over his eager tongue, your moans only queuing him to lick and suck at your precious pearl even harder than before.

"Fuck Bucky! So fucking good, baby," you praised, throwing your head back as your fangs made their presence known with a smooth 'pop'.

Your hands changed tactics as you moved yourself to lean back, one hand gripping at the headboard, the other sat on his textured abs, your nails making the skin under red and sensitive.

Before you knew it, you were on the edge. Your body was screaming for release, your hormones going into overdrive as you went harder—faster— praying that your coil would snap.

"'M gonna cUM— Bucky fuck!!" You gasped as you finally slipped into your state of nirvana, your body buzzing.

You shook in your ecstasy, perfect noises slipping from your lips as you felt Bucky lick up everything you gave him. Meanwhile, he was in heaven, suffocated by your thighs as he lapped at your ambrosia. You were the most delicious pussy he had ever had.

After Bucky finally detached his mouth from your core, he looked up at you lazily, and you moved your hips down, your dripping pussy hovering over his painfully hard erection.

"You're amazing, Bucky...," you muttered, your lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. Something more than lust or infatuation. You were ready to make him completely and utterly yours.

You reached down, lining him up with you, and kissed your way down his jaw and to his neck. You suddenly sunk down, your teeth piercing his skin as he let out a lewd moan, pleasure coursing through his veins as you began to move on him, bouncing your hips at a sensual pace.

You sucked at his life force with volition, your pace never faltering as it increased, your body nothing but a thief, and at this point, Bucky would let you take everything he had.

You pulled away to look at him, smirking as you felt his blood surround your mouth, coating your teeth as you continued to bring him pleasure.

"Mine," you growled, "All mine."

Bucky nodded in his daze, "Yours. Promise."

Your lips met in a sloppy kiss as you felt him tense up, knowing he was close. Mischievously, you took his flesh hand, placing it where you needed him most. You wanted nothing more than to cum with him.

"I can feel you," you groaned out, "So fuckin' deep,"

Bucky was in a submissive daze, nodding to whatever you said as his mind blurred in pleasure and need. His skin was almost electrifying as you felt his blood run through you.

"So come on. Cum for me. Cum inside me," you moaned, Bucky watching as your breasts bounced with every movement of your hips, "Wanna cum for me, Bucky?"

"Yes! Please, I want it! I want it, please," he whined as you smirked, you couldn't have asked for a better response.

"Cum," you commanded, as you felt your body tense up as well, and just like that you came the hardest you had in almost a decade, your world going white.

You felt yourself scream out as you collapsed on top of the man below you, your body limp as he continued to thrust up into you, letting out a guttural, filthy moan as he came inside of you.

You felt him fill you up, your eyes open as you tried to center your vision, your mind scrambled as you listened to Bucky's adorable little noises.

You rode out each other's highs, your lover panting like a dog, his eye closed as he tried to gather himself as well. When he eventually caught his breath, he couldn't help but look down at you in amazement.

"Absolutely incredible," he murmured as he put his hand to your face, stroking gently.

If you had blood pumping in your veins, you would have blushed, "As are you."

"Can you turn into a bat?" Bucky looked up at you with the curiosity of a child as you gently stroked his hair.

You had spent hours taking him apart, so it felt only right that you held him in your arms and on your lap, stroking his hair gently as his eyes hazed over with sleepiness.

You let out a light-hearted chuckle, "No. I can't. Although that sounds fun, no?"

"What can you do?" he continued to question as he held you a little bit tighter.

"I can... move at rapid speeds, but you already knew that, didn't you?" You jabbed, Bucky letting out a hearty laugh, "I'm immortal, I have a strong influence, I can even sense people who have drank my blood."

"Sense as in how?" Bucky didn't know why he was suddenly so worried.

"I can sense your emotions. I'll know where you are so I can find you quickly," you explained.

"What am I feeling now?"

You paused at the question, a sense of slight pity crossing you as you looked down to him. You closed your eyes, closing everything out in a means to feel him. A stream of consciousness crossed you.

"You're...," you paused, "You're feeling affectionate. In love. Vulnerable." you started, "But you're also feeling unsure... skeptical..."

Bucky liked knowing what he felt. Being told what he was actually feeling. Some days he felt as if there was nothing left. A void where his feelings once were.

"How old are you?" he questioned suddenly.

"Exactly or a rough estimate?" you joked.

"Exactly."

You sighed with a smile on your face, remembering the memories of the past.

"I'm 207 years old. I was born in 1813."

Bucky sat up. He had never met anyone that much older than him. He thought he was one of the oldest living fossils on the planet. But you were just full of surprises.

"D-Do you remember Steve?" Bucky questioned, tears welling in his eyes.

"Rogers? I mean... I saw him in posters in the '40s. Even saw one of his performances. But something told me he wasn't a fan of showbiz. Then after he got out of the ice, I saw him on TV. Mostly news channels."

Bucky winced. If you had seen Steve on the news, there was no doubt that you had also seen him on the news, and that-

"I know you aren't a bad man, James."

Bucky winced as you used his name, but nonetheless, the statement brought more tears.

"Say it again...," he pleaded, closing his eyes as he heard your melodic voice say what he had been wanting to hear for centuries.

"You realize I can't let you go now, right?" He cupped your face gently in his hands as if he might break you, but even with his super-soldier status, you were the one who should be worried about breaking him.

"I couldn't imagine you doing any different."