#nervous glances. she’s been kicking my feet all night just because she could. i’m smiling like an idiot because there’s a chance. she keeps

[gaywarenn]

.

[sacredsorceress]

Who’s She? || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x doctor!reader

summary: when sam gets injured during a mission and isn’t able to go to a hospital, bucky brings him and natasha to his own home to get cared for by his girlfriend, y/n, who he’s been keeping a secret.

a/n: this is my first time writing for bucky! reblogs and replies are super appreciated! also here i'm going to pretend that bucky didn’t get snapped so you started dating during the blip and natasha didn’t die

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of blood, sam getting shot, fluff

masterlist || request

“Shit.”

He followed the sound of the gunshot to another open room within the warehouse. He watched as the group they had been fighting fled the building, hopping into their trucks and speeding away before he even had the chance to process what was happening in front of him never mind go after them. When the group dispersed out of the room he finally saw what all the commotion had been about- Sam was lying on the floor with Natasha kneeling above him at his side.

“What happened?” Bucky asked, jogging towards where the two of them were in the center of the large, open room.

Natasha looked up, her hands feeling around Sam’s shoulder, blood coating her hands.

“There’s no exit wound.” She told him finally, standing up. “We have to get him out of here.”

Bucky watched as Sam groaned, still lying on the ground, with his hand putting pressure on his shoulder.

“So, what?” Bucky asked her. “We take him to a hospital?”

Nat shook her head. “We weren’t supposed to be here. If we take him to a hospital now... they’ll find out.” She turned back to Sam. “Feel good enough to walk?” She asked him.

“I don’t know.” Sam said. “How far are we going?”

Natasha shrugged, placing her fist underneath her chin, assessing the situation.

“Well,” She told him. “We can’t go to a hospital... but I could try my best in the back of the van.”

At that, Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows with a look of fear in his eyes as he turned to look between Natasha and Bucky.

“You’re joking right?” He grimaced. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

Watching the situation play out before him, Bucky swore to himself knowing what he was about to do and partly regretting the decision before he even made it. As much as Sam could piss him off, he knew better than to let him suffer under Nat attempting to stitch him up. He couldn’t let him go through that when there was a better way.

“Shit.” Bucky shook his head, reaching his hand out to Sam to pull him up. “Fine. I know somewhere we can go.”

Natasha and Sam looked at each other, quirking their eyebrows, questioning how Bucky of all people would know somewhere to go in a situation like this. Not in a position to argue, however, Sam took his hand, standing to his feet.

“So... where are we headed?”

It had been a half an hour long drive before Bucky finally pulled the car over to the side of the road outside of an apartment building. Natasha and Sam followed his lead as he walked inside, up the stairs and unlocked one of the doors with his set of keys. 

Hearing the key turning in the lock and commotion outside your apartment door, you spun around from your seat on the couch watching as you boyfriend, Bucky walked in the door of your shared apartment.

“You were gone for so long you almost had me wor-”

Before you could finish your sentence you watched as none other than Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff made their way through the door of your apartment. Although you had never been introduced, you recognized them immediately as members of the famous group of Avengers and coworkers of your boyfriend.

You sprung up from your seat immediately upon seeing these unfamiliar familiar faces. That’s when you noticed the blood coating the upper half of Sam’s suit and Natasha’s hands. Your eyes shot open wide, turning to face Bucky.

“James?” You said his name slowly.

“He got shot. There was nowhere else we could go, Y/n.” He told you. “You can fix it right?”

You made your way around the couch, rushing to Sam’s side and guiding him to sit on the cushions, continuing your conversation with Bucky all the while.

“I work in the maternity ward, Buck.” You reminded him.

Sam’s mouth dropped and Natasha, still standing in the doorway watched the conversation playing out between you and Bucky, still unsure of who you were.

Sam angled his neck to face Bucky from his seat on the couch. “You took me to a gynecologist?”

“She’s a doctor!” Bucky shouted at Sam, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“A maternity doctor!” Sam shouted back. “Do I look like-”

“If you don't want her help then-”

“Stop it!” You shouted, breaking up the useless, unnecessary conversation between the two men. They both went silent at the sound of your raised voice, turning back to face you. “Buck, go get my kit from the bathroom, okay?”

He quickly nodded, heading out of the room. As he did, you turned to Natasha who was still standing in the doorway.

“We need to get this suit off. I can’t work through it.”

She nodded, making her way across the living room, kneeling in front of Sam. Pulling a knife out of the holster at the side of her leg, she began slicing through the shoulder of his suit so that the two of you could take it off without raising his arms, affecting the wound.

When Bucky strolled back into the room, carrying your kit in his hands, Sam turned to him while Natasha continued to slice at his suit.

“So... how come she gets to call you ‘Buck’ and I can't?” He asked.

You smiled as you opened the kit, pulled gloves over your hands and set up your materials at your side. Slipping the jacket off of his shoulders, Bucky replied.

“Because she’s my girlfriend.”

A silence hung in the room for a moment as Natasha and Sam took their time to process the words that had just come out of Bucky’s mouth. It was almost impossible for them to comprehend that he had a life outside of the business they got into or that he could care for someone in such a way. The idea of someone like Bucky living out a domestic life in his free time was unbelievable.

“Wait your... but you...” Sam stumbled through his words, turning to look between you and the grumpy, 106 year-old man he had gotten to know over the past few years. Finally he broke into a smile, chuckling. “No way.”

You laughed, grabbing a seat from your dining table and pulling it up to Sam, plopping yourself down in it. Pulling your tray of materials towards him, you smiled. “Yes way. Good to know he’s mentioned me.”

You looked over your shoulder and winked at your boyfriend who was leaning against the wall behind you, his arms crossed.

“I’m just protecting you, doll.” He smirked. “You know that.”

Natasha tore off the last piece of the suit, stepping away from Sam, sinking herself into a nearby armchair.

“Gross.” She commented at the sound of the pet name Bucky held for you.

Laughing at her comment, you leaned forward, a cotton swab with numbing jelly in your hand. 

“I know, baby. I’m just messing with you.” You told your boyfriend before turning your attention back to Sam. When you noticed him eyeing you warily, you said. “You can trust me. I may work in the maternity ward, but I know what I’m doing.”

He then nodded and watched as you pressed the swab against his shoulder holding it in place. As you continued applying a light pressure, Sam finally took in your surroundings, now noticing the framed photos scattered along the walls and surfaces of you and Bucky, of Bucky and Steve from back in the day and of you and- who Sam assumed were- your friends. He didn’t know how he didn’t see all of them when he first came in, being able to realize that you and Bucky shared the space as a home.

“How did you even lock this down?” Sam asked, glancing up towards Bucky.

Natasha, kicking back in her seat laughed. “Rogers always said you were ‘quite the ladies’s man’ back in the good ol’ days, Barnes. Who knew you still had it in you?”

Rather than play into their game, Bucky rolled his eyes, sitting down on the coffee table, grumbling to himself.

Sam turned back towards you. “So what did it?”

You glanced at your wrist watch, pulling the swab off of Sam’s shoulder, tossing it to your side and instead picking up what Sam thought to have looked like a sort of tweezer as he watched.

“What do you mean?” You asked, a light smile playing on your lips.

You knew this conversation was making your boyfriend want to kick everyone out of your shared appointment and that the only thing stopping him was that you were currently taking a bullet out of one of their shoulders.

“Like what did it, you know?” Sam asked, laughing. “Was it the staring? It was the staring wasn't it? He stares all the god damn time. It pisses me right off.”

You grinned, continuing the conversation as you slipped the tweezer into Sam’s bullet wound, hoping to distract him. Once you pulled the bullet out successfully and dropped it onto the table besides you, you grabbed the materials to stitch the hole closed.

“He does stare a lot, doesn’t he?” You laughed. “You’re right though actually. I caught him staring at me at a bar and slipped him my number. I figured he was too nervous to ask for it. That was what? Two years ago now?" You asked, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend.

"Yeah something like that." Bucky replied, nonchalantly.

He was trying to act casual in front of his friends. That night was two years and three months ago to the day and he knew it when you asked. Bucky Barnes wished he could forget about a lot of things in his extended lifetime, but until the day he dies he swore to himself he would never forget the night he met you. Seeing you sitting across the bar from him changed his life for the better and he never wanted that to end. So much so that little did you know that he had bought a ring for you six months ago with the help of his best friend and most trusted confidant, but until the right moment arises it continues to sit in his locked safe in your shared bedroom.

“God, man, I can’t believe you kept this a secret for that long!” Sam exclaimed before cringing as he watched you slip the needle into his skin. “And to think- I thought we were friends.”

Your boyfriend rolled his eyes. “We’re coworkers.”

“You know what? That hurt.” Sam shook his head, pausing, before turning back to Natasha. “You’re pretty quiet. This antique has had a secret girlfriend for two years and you’ve got nothing to say?”

At his comment, Natasha stopped staring at the pictures on the wall, instead turning back to the group.

“Two years huh?” She asked. “That means Rogers knew didn’t he?”

Suddenly Bucky was very interested in staring at his hands as a silence washed over the room. You knew Steve leaving to travel back to the past a few months ago was still a sensitive subject for your boyfriend. Despite the fact that the other Avengers- or former Avengers- knew nothing of your existence, you had met Steve more times than you could count and you knew how important his friendship was to Bucky.

“Uh... yeah.” Bucky answered finally, clearing his throat.

Saving your boyfriend from the awkward conversation surrounding a touchy subject, you finished the last of your stitches on Sam, leaning back in your seat,  pulling off your gloves and dropping the materials at your side.

“There!” You announced. “All done! Just try not to move that spot too much for the next few weeks, okay?”

“That’s easier said than done.” Sam said, smiling, glancing at his stitched up wound. “Not everyone just has a metal arm that can do the job for them.”

You laughed, maneuvering your way around the couch and into the kitchen to rinse the remainders of blood from your hands in the sink. As the warm water ran on top of your hands, you felt the unmistakable cold touch of vibranium wrap around your waist. As you scrubbed your hands in the sink, a hint of a smile gracing your face, you felt your boyfriend’s other hand tuck the piece of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear.

“Thanks for doing that. I know I put you in a weird spot.” He almost whispered, leaving a light kiss on your cheek.

You heard the sound of Sam laughing at something Natasha had just said in the other room and shrugged.

“You don’t have to thank me, Buck.” You said. “Honestly... I kind of liked it. Not that Sam was shot or anything obviously- that’s awful and it’s terrifying that if it were somewhere else he could’ve died- but it’s good to feel... I don’t know... needed like that.”

You turned off the faucet and the second you did, your boyfriend handed you the towel, unwrapping his arm from around your waist and stepping back to look at you.

“But you are needed?” He said, leaning on the countertop. “I wouldn’t be able to do any of this or anything without you.”

You shrugged again, drying your hands.

“I know, Bucky. That’s not...” You sighed. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t know... it just kind of feels... cool.”

“Cool?” He asked, quirking his eyebrows and grinning at you while he said it.

You groaned.

“Yes! It made me feel cool!” You said, throwing the rag on the counter. “You guys are legitimate superheroes. All of you live like you’re in some action movie most days so yeah- it made me feel kind of cool to be included. Maybe you don’t notice it after all this time, but it felt exciting to me.”

He flashed you a smile, pushing himself off of the counter to rest his hands on your waist.

“So, you like heroes, huh?” He asked, clearly teasing you.

Although he was flirting by attempting to tease you for what you had just said, he admittedly felt his heart fill a bit more knowing that you thought of him as a hero.

You smiled, pulling on the dog tags that hung around his neck, teasing him right back.

“No, but I do like 106-year-old grumpy old men who have me stitch up their superhero friends.”

“I’m not grumpy.” He pouted.

“The first step is acceptance, babe.” You fake pouted, stepping back from his arms and lightly tapping him on the cheek. “Now go ask your superhero friends if they want anything to drink.”

Just as you finished your sentence you heard a shout from the other room.

“I’ll have a water if you don’t mind!”

At the sound of his voice you and Bucky turned towards each other, eyes wide.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Bucky called from the kitchen back to Sam who was sat in the living room, separated by a wall.

“Thin walls!” Sam called.

“I’d hate to be your neighbors!” Natasha added.

As tough as your boyfriend was, you watched as he became flustered, knowing the others had just heard him flirting with you in the kitchen. You laughed, patting him on the shoulder before grabbing two waters from the fridge and making your way back into the living room, handing one to each of your uninvited guests. Bucky followed behind you as you plopped yourself back down on the couch watching a conversation between Natasha, Bucky and Sam unfold.

While Bucky and Sam had a harmless argument about the mission they had just been on, you felt a soft pat on your arm and turned to see Nat facing you.

“About what you said in the kitchen-” She began.

Remembering what you had told Bucky in the kitchen minutes before about them being movie-like superheroes, you grew embarrassed.

“Oh God! I’m sorry. You really don’t have to mention it-” You said, cutting her off.

“No, seriously.” She told you. “For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have been able to fix him up like that. It was nice to have you there.”

As badly as you wanted to play it cool in front of her, you couldn’t help but smile. As embarrassing as you thought it was for them to hear everything you told your boyfriend in confidence, you meant every word you had said and it meant a lot for Natasha to acknowledge you in such a way.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” You smiled.

When you turned back in your seat, you noticed that the conversation between Sam and Bucky had ended and that they both were turned towards you and Natasha.

“Yeah, thanks for that, Y/n. I think I would have rather bled out then let her fix it.” Sam added and Natasha scoffed. “Hey, now that we know you exist we could use you! It’d be nice to have someone keep this robot in check.” He shrugged at your boyfriend.

Whether it was because he was genuinely enjoying himself or it was just because he was beside you, Bucky chuckled at Sam’s comment, stretching his arm over your shoulders as the two of you sat on the couch chatting with the two of them.

“I’d like that.” You laughed, leaning comfortably into your boyfriend. “Oh! Does that mean I can get a metal arm too-”

Before you could even finish your sentence, your boyfriend cut you off.

“Absolutely not.”

[elysiadjarin]

Day 2: Breeding Kink

Day 2 of Kinktober and… I got carried away with this one. The others are not going to be nearly as long as this one, so you guys are gonna be spoiled with this. I hope you enjoy it! Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Some warnings for violence and blood mentioned, though nothing too graphic. PinV sex, unprotected, consensual, nonhuman character, exophilia, slight hint of biting kink

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

When you’d first moved to the tiny Irish town in the middle of nowhere, you’d originally hoped to escape the family drama that haunted you back in America. Thanks to your grandfather’s Irish immigration, you’d been able to get an Irish citizenship and move relatively easily. So, you’d packed your bags, only told your grandfather where you were going, and boarded the first flight to Ireland you could catch.

You’d quietly made your way to your grandfather’s tiny hometown far out in the countryside, and moved into the long-since abandoned house that had belonged to your ancestors before. Though it had been run down and you’d had to do some major repairs and cleaning, you’d finally made a cozy cottage on the outskirts of the small village-like town.

The town had been quite welcoming and friendly, and you’d quickly found a job working at the local town pub as a waitress. Your boss had been very welcoming, and you’d earned favor from your coworkers and boss for your hard work and quiet, unassuming diligence. The pay was good, and you found yourself growing comfortable in the sleepy town life, meeting your neighbors and getting familiar with the town dynamics.

You’d just gone in for your shift of the day when conversation caught your ear. You put on your waitress apron, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and walking out to the bar to grab your tray.

“Did you hear about the news?” Jaina asked, arms propped on the countertop. “I mean, about that Romanian vamp that landed on Scotland the other day. Word is that he’s headed this way.”

“Well why would it want teh come here?” Sean snorted. “We’re out in teh middle o’ nowhere, Janie, t’ere ain’t not’in’ here t’at it would want.”

“Well didn’t you hear that apparently they’re expecting Agent Blue to be chasing it down with the Dullahan?” Jaina hissed. “Why wouldn’t they come over here?”

You hid your discreet grimace, instead walking out in front of the bar. To your delight and surprise, you found yourself facing a familiar little figure sitting at the bar in a corner. The little girl caught sight of you and squealed, waving.

You went over to her giving her a hug. “Well hello there, Miss Morrigan,” you greeted cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening? Having a drink?” you teased, noticing the glass of juice near her notebook.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah! I’m with Daddy today,” she answered, feet kicking against the bar. She turned her head to see the bartender approaching. “Daddy!” she said excitedly. “Look, it’s the nice neighbor lady I told you about!”

You looked up to see Lysander Sullivan standing there, polishing a glass with a cloth. He gazed down at his daughter with a fond look deep in his eyes, then turned to look at you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours.

“Is that so?” he asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the relatively quiet bar. It hadn’t gotten to heavy traffic times, so there weren’t many people around yet. His grey-flecked hair had been swept back into an elastic band, and his beard had been neatly trimmed.

You gave him a small, shy smile, a little embarrassed. Though you knew that the man lived next to your property, you’d been a bit timid about approaching him. He was a kind enough gentleman from everything you’d seen and heard, and he’d watched out for you as you worked, but you didn’t see any reason why he’d be interested in any further contact with you. After all, you were a younger woman in your mid-twenties that lived alone.

“Yeah! She helps me with homework sometimes,” Morrigan prattled on, “and she lets me water her flowers!”

You laughed a little, feeling the color splash across your cheeks. “Well, I certainly enjoy the little Queen’s company,” you admitted. You’d heard some of the other workers gossip about Lysander, saying that he was a single father to nine-year-old Morrigan and that her mother had died in a tragic accident. You didn’t really know, and you’d tried not to pry or overhear too much. The man had a right to privacy, just like you had things you were running from as well.

“Thank you for looking out for the little cub,” Lysander said, a small smile crossing his face. He mellowed out around his daughter, his love clear in how he interacted with her.

“Of course. It’s a delight,” you said, smiling at Morrigan. “She’s a smart little cookie, aren’t you, Queenie?” you asked, tugging at her pigtail teasingly.

She giggled. “Yeah!” Then she tilted her head at you. “Are you working with Daddy tonight?” she asked curiously.

“O-oh, well, sort of,” you stammered, taken aback a little. “He works behind the counter, but I serve people out there,” you said, motioning to the tables. “So I guess we do, in a way.”

Morrigan nodded sagely. “Ohhh, so you do the food and Daddy does the drinks.” She nodded, satisfied at her conclusion. “Oh, I’m making a drawing! I want you to see it later, when I’m finished,” she said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled. “Of course, Queenie. You just let me know and I’ll pop by when I have a moment, alright?” you promised.

She nodded, turning back to her notebook and picking up her crayons again. Tongue poked out, she diligently returned to her masterpiece. You gave her a fond smile, noting the way the soft lights made a halo in her blonde hair.

“She’s such an angel,” you murmured, grabbing some straws from the bar to stick into your pocket.

“Aye, that she is.” Lysander’s comment almost startled you. He glanced at you across the bar, the sleeves of his crisp maroon button-up rolled halfway up his arms. “I apologize for not bein’ a better neighbor,” he remarked.

You blinked, then reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, no— not at all,” you blurted, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’d met Morrigan when she was coming back from school, since I was in the front yard. She just… hopped on over, so I said hi. Honestly I should have introduced myself better, but…” You bit your lip. “I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to bother you…”

He blinked, then chuckled slightly, as though surprised. “An’ here I thought it was ‘cause you didn’t really like me for some reason,” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

You gave him a horrified look. “Oh! Not at all!” You shook your head with a sigh, tugging mournfully at your ponytail. “I’m… notoriously bad at meeting people for the first time,” you groaned. “I just get nervous and tongue tied and I don’t know how to interact and… ugh.” You winced. “I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I should be a better neighbor, especially since I somehow got to know your daughter.” You half-laughed at yourself.

He waved you off. “I’m just glad you get along with Mor,” he chuckled. “She speaks endlessly about you. Seems like you’ve impressed her.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?” you wondered, glancing at the girl. Then you smiled. “Well, I’m flattered. She’s such a smart, curious girl. I’m rather honored that she’d find me interesting.” You breathed a laugh, then glanced up at him. “I should get to my station, but… if you don’t mind, would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow to say hi and properly introduce myself?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. She gets back home from school at three, if you wanted to catch her as well.”

You nodded, propping the tray on your hip. “Thank you! I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll stop procrastinating and actually start working,” you laughed, and walked off with a wave.

The night progressed relatively smoothly, customers rotating in and out with regulars stopping by. The crowds ebbed and flowed, sometimes more rowdy and sometimes more calm. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere and the liveliness of it all. Despite it being a pub, and an Irish one at that, the town was small and most people knew everyone else. Plus, Lysander was the bartender for more than one reason. Everyone knew that making trouble of any sort was not tolerated and had force to back it up.

You occasionally popped by Morrigan’s place at the bar, either to have a chat or to admire the progress she’d made on her drawing. And throughout the night, your worries started to mount the more gossip you heard around the pub. Some of them had heard confirmation that the Romanian vampire gone mad was making a beeline for Ireland, though no one seemed to know why. There were even more rumors that Agent Blue, the famous Will-o-the-Wisp, was after the rampaging Pricoli. And still others said that the Scott Pack would be making a reappearance.

Once you’d finished your shift and helped close up shop, you started the trudge back to your cottage down the road. It wasn’t a far walk, really, and it gave you some time to think and clear your head from the smells of the pub. Reaching up, you pulled your hair free from the ponytail and sighed, shoulders slumping.

You’d come to Ireland to escape your problems, but it felt like they were all closing in on you as the days went by. As you got home and got ready for bed, you wondered if it was asking too much to hope for some peace.

Instead, you distracted yourself by trying to think of something to make for the Sullivans the next day. You didn’t want to go empty handed, after all. Maybe some bread-?

You fell asleep thinking about it.

~

You’d just lifted your hand to knock when the door flung open. Morrigan practically tackled you, wrapping her arms around your waist with a shriek of greeting.

Laughing, you balanced yourself and wrapped an arm around her. “Well hello, Queenie,” you greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She grabbed your hand and dragged you in, chattering happily about her day at school. “Oh, and you should have heard how everyone laughed!” She interrupted herself as she led you into the kitchen. “Daddy, she’s here!” she called.

Trying to balance the homemade sourdough in one hand while still holding Morrigan’s with the other, you looked up to give Lysander a helpless smile. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan,” you greeted, a little breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Well hallo, Miss,” he greeted back, wiping his hands with a towel. “Mor, why don’t you let her set the plate down before anything drops,” he said, shaking his head.

Morrigan let go of your hand, bouncing up and down. “Ooh, what is it?”

You offered it to Lysander, a little flustered. “I… well, I didn’t really want to come without an offering, so… I made some homemade sourdough,” you offered, a little awkwardly. “I hope you like it, it’s a fresh batch, still warm.”

He took it from you with a nod. “Thank you. We love sourdough, don’t we, Mor?” He seemed far more comfortable in his own home, less stoic and stern than in the pub.

Morrigan nodded, throwing up her hands with a cheer. “Yeah!” She danced around. “I love bread!” Then she grabbed your hand again. “Oh, oh, you gotta come see my room! Daddy just made me a new desk, and it’s really nice and shiny!”

Lysander waved you off as you turned to him. “Go ahead. Oh, I was going to invite you to dinner,” he added. “If you’d like. The food is almost done, actually. Your bread will be a perfect addition.”

You smiled. “I’d be honored. Thank you.” Then you let Morrigan drag you away.

By the time Lysander called for you both, you’d been given the official tour of her room and had happily listened to her tell stories of what she’d done at school and the projects she planned to do in the coming days. The little girl always cheered you up with her bright and cheerful presence. If anything, it eased your heart to see the little girl clearly so healthy and happy with her Father. She openly adored him, quite the Daddy’s girl.

As the three of you sat down at the table, you realized with a slight start that you’d never felt so comfortable in Ireland as you did in this moment. It felt… right, like you’d finally come home.

“Thank you for the food,” you said, giving Lysander a grateful smile. “It looks amazing.” The soup simmered in the bowls, while the sourdough bread had been cut into slices and set by the butter.

He nodded. “Thank you for the bread.” He passed the steamed potatoes, and everyone dug into the meal.

You let out a soft hum of contentment as you ate, enjoying the rich flavors and the homey comfort food. Clearly Lysander was a good cook, and you almost envied Morrigan for being able to come home to this every night. Not that you weren’t a good cook yourself, but you supposed company really did make a difference.

“The bread is so good!” Morrigan chirped, taking a giant bite of the bread slathered in butter.

You laughed softly. “I’m glad, Queenie. Take it slow,” you warned, worried she’d choke. “The bread isn’t going anywhere.”

She nodded, scarfing down her food. “Oh, oh, Daddy, cartoons are on soon! Can I please go watch? I did all my homework!”

Lysander nodded. “Alright. Go take your dishes to the sink.”

“Thank you! Morrigan cheered, sliding down from her chair and carefully taking the dishes. She trotted to the kitchen, then got herself a glass of juice and went to go to the living room.

You realized with a slight start that this was the first time you’d been alone with Lysander. Looking down at your spoonful, you wondered if you should maybe ask him the questions that pressed on your mind. Perhaps he would know. Then again… it’s not as though he were related to your grandfather’s clan… and not to mention, most of the people in the town didn’t even know that you were aware of the nonhuman community. In fact, you were rather positive that your coworkers thought you didn’t.

“If I may ask, what brought you to this small town?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and mellow. His blue eyes glanced up at you, and the question died on your tongue.

“Oh… family history, actually,” you admitted with a smile. “And, well…” You shrugged lightly. “I needed to get away for a while. I wanted a fresh start, somewhere where people didn’t really know me.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I essentially did the same with Morrigan when we moved here a few years ago.”

You hummed, reaching for a piece of bread. He handed you the butter, and you gently grasped the sleeve of his flannel for a moment. “You’ve got a bit on your clothes,” you said, wiping the smeared butter off with a napkin. You’d just let go when your fingers brushed across his briefly as you took the butter. You didn’t notice the way he froze, his movements jerky as he pulled his hand back.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you— I mean, does any of your family still live here?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But technically, my extended family is here. My grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America, where I was born, but through marriage there are still people here I’m technically connected to.” You shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten in contact with them, though. They probably don’t know me that well,” you laughed with a rueful shrug. You glanced at him for a moment. “I bet it’s even harder when you have children.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the cartoons floated through the house. “Well, I suppose,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s my life, really.”

You lowered your eyes to your plate, unable to deny how your chest tightened at the way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter. You’d always tried to forget how much you’d been attracted to the older man. You’d only ever dated once, and while he’d been nice enough and it had ended cordially, you still hadn’t been able to forget the lingering feeling of disappointment you’d had from the experience. You’d known, after that, that it would either be a long time before you ever tried dating again or it would have to be to someone whose maturity at least matched yours. And, unfortunately for you, that tended to mostly apply to men past their forties.

You really did try to forget how Lysander ticked all the boxes.

“I can see why.” You smiled. “She’s really precious.” Your eyes slid toward the living room. “Does she… inherit from you?”

Lysander looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing as he stared at you openly.

You gave him a faint smile. “I don’t talk much about it, but my grandfather comes from the local O’Connor Faoladh Tribe,” you said calmly, taking another sip of the soup.

His shoulders relaxed, the hard edge in his expression melting away. “Ah. Yes, she does. But she hasn’t fully shifted yet. It will be another year, we think. Are you-?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. It’s funny, really,” you said thoughtfully, motioning with your spoon. “My grandfather is Faoladh, and my mother’s side of the family is a lycanthrope pack.” Your lips twitched. “And somehow, I got the recessive genes and ended up a simple Seer.”

His eyebrow raised. “Not so simple, I’d think,” he remarked. “Aren’t Seers rather uncommon now?”

You shrugged. “For a reason. There’s plenty of potential but not many who actively practice anymore. The price is heavy for knowledge like that.”

He gave you a discerning look. “Is that what you’re running from?”

Your silver spoon clinked softly as you set it down on the edge of the plate. “I suppose you could say that,” you murmured. Your eyes closed as you shoved away the memories of distant screaming, the crackle of fire, crimson splashed across stone floors— “Or maybe toward something.” After all, you mused, there had been a reason you’d felt drawn to your grandfather’s homeland, and town in particular. And of course, you’d never been one to fight Fate too hard.

“Perhaps so,” he conceded. Then he stood. “May I take your plate?”

“Oh— please, let me help.” You stood, taking your dishes and starting towards the kitchen. “At least let me wash or dry.”

When you finally got back home, you sat down on the couch and buried your face into your hands. Seeing Morrigan and Lysander together had stirred up old memories you’d long since tried to forget. Old desires that you’d thought you’d given up on: hopes and dreams of a family to call your own.

You crawled into bed, everything inside you aching. After all, what could a Seer with a cursed fate possibly offer anyone?

~

The night the Dullahan rode into town, you’d just started closing up the pub on night shift duty.

They’d ridden in, followed by the famous Agent Blue clad in his dark robes and carrying his lantern over his shoulder. He strode in the door, followed by the Dullahan. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the other figure trailing behind them.

Your Boss, Dorian, had walked out of the back room to greet them. He, of everyone in the town, was the only one to know of your heritage, as the elected leader of the supernatural community in the town. He nodded to the group as they entered.

“Welcome, Dullahan, Agent Blue.” He nodded at them, shaking the Will-o-the-Wisp’s hand.

“Greetings in return, Chief Dorian,” Agent Blue replied, his face still covered by the hood. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pricoli that’s been running amok all over the Isles.”

Dorian nodded. “We certainly have. I assume you’ve come on a hunt.”

“We have. And I’ve brought someone with me.” Agent Blue turned, motioning towards the back of the group.

You’d been distracted, still working on trying to finish clearing up and getting out of the way. If your boss had asked, you were ready to offer to serve the new guests as well, giving Lysander a glance that he returned with a small nod.

It wasn’t until you straightened and turned around, finished, that you heard a familiar, startled voice call your name. Turning, you looked up and saw, to your shock, a very familiar face staring at you. You froze as the figure lunged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. After a moment, you awkwardly hugged him back, mind whirling.

“What are you doing here?” Your younger brother stared at you incredulously, holding your arms. “I didn’t even know you left home! Last I heard you were still there.”

You grasped his sleeves, disoriented. “O-Oh. Ray,” you gasped, processing. “I—“ You suppressed a flinch. “I just… moved into grandfather’s old cottage,” you stammered, then looked down. “I had to get away,” you said quietly. “It was too much.”

Of all your family, you knew that Ray would best understand. He’d been the only one to really stand up for you back home, try to support you as best as he could, being a younger sibling. When everyone else constantly reminded you of your Fate, your Destiny, Ray had been the only one who had encouraged your personal hopes and dreams, had listened to your fears and worries.

He sighed. “I mean, I can’t blame you,” he said, shaking his head. “Still… does anyone know?”

You scoffed slightly, turning your head away. “Only Grandfather ever cared about me besides you, Ray. There’s no one else who probably even asked.” You shrugged. “How is school?” You’d been the one to support him when he decided to move to Scotland to attend University. He, too, had wanted to escape home.

He grinned. “Pretty great, actually!” Then he glanced behind him. “Turns out my best mate is actually one of Agent Blue’s sons, so when the whole Pricoli thing went down, I offered to be his in to the Faoladh Tribe here. For formality, y’know.” He shrugged. “I remembered what Grandfather had always taught us about how picky Faoladh are about tradition.”

You nodded. “Yeah…” You huffed slightly. “Technically only the people in here right now even know that I’m a part of the supernatural community,” you said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s some dedication to keep it quiet. How has the local gossip train not found you out yet?”

You snorted. “Maybe because I’ve always been quiet and kept my mouth shut.” You rolled your eyes at him, though a smile twitched on your lips. “And we both know who never can.”

He playfully cuffed your shoulder. Then he grinned. “Oh, but guess what?” His eyes sparkled. “I found my Mate!”

Your eyes widened. “Really?” Your heart lightened for him, happy that your younger brother had finally found his Mate. “Does she know yet?”

He shook his head, face falling a little. Well, not yet. I mean, I’ve kinda only just met her and all, so… and it’s kinda awkward, cause…” He winced. “Well, she’s my best mate’s younger sister.”

You gave him an incredulous look, then sighed, shaking your head. “Well, good luck with that one, Ray,” you snorted. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation with that one.”

He shrugged. “I know, but…” His grin turned goofy. “She’s so pretty. You should see her. She’s even pretty sassy, kinda like you are with me.”

You laughed softly, patting his arm. “Well, I’m glad I was able to catch up with you. If you need a place to stay, you know my house is always open to you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, sis. I should probably head back. I don’t know what else they might want me for.” He paused, then gave you an odd look. “Have you… found anyone?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What? Ray, you know what my Fate says.” You frowned.

An odd expression crossed his face, then he shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Just… don’t forget the promise you made me.”

You sighed. “I won’t, Ray.” As if you ever could, you thought with a hint of bitterness. He wouldn’t let you.

He squeezed your hand, slipping a piece of paper into your grasp. “Text me. I wanna keep in touch.”

You nodded, pocketing the note. “Thanks. Good luck, Ray. Stay safe.”

He nodded, then jogged back to Agent Blue with a wave. You were left to stand there, your heart sinking with every step he took away from you. Everything was lining up far too well. Though you’d vainly hoped to escape from the Fate that had hung over your head for so long, it seemed as though you’d just walked right into it instead.

Turning back to the bar, you quietly packed up your things. Bidding Lysander goodnight, you checked to make sure Dorian didn’t need you and headed back for home.

It was only a matter of time.

~

Rain splattered against the ground, heavy and thick like a curtain. Shielding your eyes from the drops, you pushed yourself to run, faster, as fast as you could. There was no time left to think.

The vision you’d had kneeling under the large Fae Maypole tree you’d found in the forest nearby kept flashing through your mind, insistent and horrific. Your Fate loomed, past and future meshing into the present in ways you could hardly stand. You’d thought you’d been running, cowardly but maybe safe from the Sword of Damocles—but now here you were, fallen headlong into the trap of the Fate you’d known since childhood would claim your life.

And yet your feet would not stop running, pushing you forward without hesitation. Was this not worth it? Was this Fate—this Fate that you’d feared for so long, hated and loathed and tried in futility to escape—was it truly so horrendous? Now that you were here? In this moment of truth?

You barreled up the steps, slamming your shoulder against the door without a pause. It broke, sending you headlong across the threshold to skid across the carpet. Ignoring the burn on your arm, you looked up as you heard a scream. Morrigan’s face stared at you, sheet white as she curled up in fear by the foot of the couch.

Jacking yourself up, you didn’t take time to glance behind you. “Mor, into the safe room,” you gasped, “your Daddy sent me, okay? I need you to get in the safe room, now.”

She nodded shakily, bravely scrambling to her feet and running towards the safe room that Lysander had made for her. Nothing would get through the doors, you knew, once they locked. You waited until you heard the lock click, then turned and scrambled back out the busted door.

In the empty area between your houses, out on the outskirts of the town, everything seemed oddly distant yet crystal clear. Your memories nudged at you, whispering about the deja vu that filled your every pore at the sight of the green, rolling grass and the relentless rain that poured over everything. In the distance, the red glare of a fire fueled by gas and undaunted by rain began to dominate the color of the sky.

It didn’t surprise you when cold fingers wrapped around your throat, leaving mottled bruises to bloom against your skin. You stood still, knowing that any movement might crush your throat. You may have been Fated to die, but not until you’d finished your task.

The enraged Pricoli snarled, hissing in your ear. “I know he sent you to hide her,” he sneered. “You helpless, pitiful Seer. For all your preeminence, did you not find a way to best me?” he barked a laugh, maniacal and loud. “You useless Seers and your cursed fates—and for what? A single moment of ruined glory?”

Your breath shallowed, airflow restricted. Agent Blue, several Dullahan, your brother, Dorian, and Lysander all emerged from the tree line, pausing as they saw you being held hostage. You closed your eyes for a moment as the icy hands constricted around your throat even further.

“Tell me where she is, and you get to live, Seer,” he snarled, his face nearing your ear. “She is my perfect match, my BloodSong. She is fated to be mine, my apprentice!” he howled. “Give her to me, my right!” His nails started to lengthen, turning into claws, digging against your skin. “Or I’ll drink you dry first and use you as fuel to take these maggots down.”

You brother’s face had gone ashen in horror, staring at you as though trying to deny his own eyes. His face twisted in despair.

“I’ll never give her up to you,” you answered, aware that everyone could hear you despite the rain. You tilted your head up, letting the rain wash over your face. “I am a Seer,” you declared, loudly, proud of it for the first time in your life. “And I embrace the Curse of my Fate. I pay the price gladly, if it means the power to make sure you never lay a finger on her.”

The Pricoli snarled, the rage almost audibly warping his voice into something demonic. “Then meet your Fate, Seer.”

Your knees gave out the moment his fangs ripped into your jugular. Strangely enough, the pain wasn’t even that bad, you mused hazily. Your eyes—were they blurred by tears or the rain?—rolled up to see your brother, mouth open as he reached for you. Even Lysander, white fur matted and soaked, had his maw open as his snout pointed to the sky.

Distantly, you could hear screaming. A roar, loud, tumbling through your chest, rattling into the ground. The crackling of fire. Everything started to get.. so… cold. Vaguely, as the hand shoved you forward and you landed against the ground, you could see out of the corner of your eye the Pricoli hunch forward. Despite the pain, the numbness… your lips curled in a vindictive smile.

The crimson eyes turned to you, a horrified anger sweeping through them as they landed on your twisted grin. A cold hand went up to his throat, and the Pricoli started to choke. His body lurched, tongue lolling as he gagged on your blood, his veins starting to light from the inside out with a toxic green. Slowly, agonizingly, he fell to his knees, his face contorted in a paroxysm of agony as he choked on your blood, your concentrated inherent magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

Your limbs felt sluggish as you forced yourself up, your ears ringing. Reaching up, you pressed your hand to your ruined neck and staggered to your feet, starting to lurch away from the destroyed corpse of the Pricoli. Warmth smeared across your skin, and every breath sent needles raking down your throat and into your lungs. Your feet stumbled, and before you realized it, you were leaning against something broad and firm.

Two icy blue eyes stared down at you, claws wrapping around your arms. Strangely enough, though, you didn’t fear that grasp. Lysander’s maw moved, you noticed faintly, but all you could hear was the persistent ringing in your ears. Vaguely, you reached up, your fingers clumsily landing on the side of his snout. Red smeared his fur, and your arm dropped down numbly to your side.

With the last of your strength, you forced your mouth to form the words that your shattered throat couldn’t say. Tell her goodbye.

The world spun into crimson.

~

Shivering, you shook your head as you curled into the corner that you’d pressed yourself into. Tears burned behind your eyes, and you heard your breath start to rasp and wheeze, rattling your throat.

Your brother’s face crumpled as he stared at you. “Please,” he begged, his voice wavering. “You need to drink.”

Agent Blue rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Take it easy, son,” he said, voice firm but compassionate. “She’s understandably frightened. Even though she’s successfully gone through the change to being a damphyr, she’s had quite the scare and probably doesn’t want to feed.”

“But she needs to!” Ray exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice. “She’s already hurting.”

It was driving you insane. The pure power of the Will-o-the-Wisp’s blood was calling to you like a tempting beacon, and your brother’s hot blood practically screamed at you. The thirst flared in your throat, an ache so powerful you wanted to gag. It was like sandpaper. But you didn’t want to feed from them. You didn’t want to risk losing control, didn’t want to didn’t want to didn’t want to—

“I’ll take care of her.” Lysander stepped into the room. He turned to Ray. “She gave her life to save my daughter. This is the least I can do. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

Your brother paused, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know you will, Sir,” he said, defeated. “I just…” He glanced over at you, eyes reflecting his misery.

Lysander reached out, squeezing Ray’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Ray nodded, then approached you again carefully. “Hey.” His voice softened. “I know you probably don’t want me around. But you have my number. Please, just… contact me when you’re ready, ok? You know I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I’m gonna go back to Scotland, but you know how to reach me if you need anything. I won’t tell any of the family that you’re here.”

Swallowing back the drool, you tentatively reached out and barely ghosted your fingers against his cheek, hoping your eyes would convey your thanks. You just… needed space. Away from him, to control yourself, get yourself together.

But his expression turned a little more hopeful, and he nodded. “Love you, sis,” he said quietly. “Please… live.” With a small smile, he stood and followed Agent Blue out of the room.

With a quiet whine, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push past the unbearable, insistent pain scratching down your throat. Your throat roared for a drink. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Lysander approach. Though you didn’t know why, his presence always sent you into an absolute panic, though not of fear. Your thirst around him seemed to impossibly skyrocket. Like something about him drove you crazy.

He knelt, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He reached out slowly, giving you a chance to move away. Instead, your body froze, entirely fixating on the way his plaid shirtsleeve pulled tight around his arm, rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed thickly, his blood an absolute siren call. You could smell it, practically taste it. Dripping down your throat, into your veins, ambrosia sweet and thick— Drool slipped down the corner of your mouth, past the pressure of fangs against your lips.

Lysander’s eyes strained. “I know what it does to you,” he said quietly. “Just the fact that you’re not lunging for me right now is…” He sighed, his other hand raking through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or-“ His lips twisted as he cut himself off, as though conflicted. “There’s a reason why my blood calls to you.” He settled himself in front of you, making you want to scream as both relief and a frenzy of want roared through you.

“Of course, Mor is my daughter,” Lysander said, his voice low as he looked down at the floor between you. “But her Mother was… not my true Mate.” He sighed. “I didn’t really care, because I loved her. But she… well, she left me. Didn’t want Mor, didn’t want… me.” A self-depreciating smile passed across his face. “But it was okay, I had Mor and I only wanted the best for her. But still… somewhere inside me, I knew that my true Mate was out there somewhere.”

You almost couldn’t focus, his proximity almost painful because he was too far, and yet not close enough—

“And then you appeared, and Mor started to love you, and I—“ He sighed, hand reaching up to cover his face. “And I didn’t know if I wanted to run or stay.” His shoulders slumped. “Seeing you with Mor, working with you, talking with you… every moment I spend with you near is like agony, but when you leave it’s like you take a part of me with you and I can’t breathe.”

Abruptly, your mouth went dry, shocked almost clear out of bloodlust. Wait, was he saying-?

“I told myself that you’d be better off without me,” Lysander admitted, voice thick. “I’m… not young any more. You’re beautiful and— and you have so much more promise, a whole life ahead of you… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d gone for so long without my true Mate, I thought I’d be fine. But when I saw you lying on the ground…” He turned his face away, jaw ticking, a wild, feral light in his eyes. A low snarl rumbled through his chest, dissolving into a whine he quickly cut off.

He looked back up at you. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel… obligated to do anything. But you deserve to know the reason why my blood calls to you so strongly, and why— why I want you to drink from me. Why I don’t mind.”

Your mind whirled. The permission. The heady scent of his blood. The warmth he promised. The realization that he was calling you his true Mate. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Reaching up, you clapped your hand over your mouth with a half-sob of desperation. You wanted it. You practically ached for it, the kindness and love he offered. The promise of a family, a home, someone who had seen you at your worst and still somehow wanted you.

“Please,” Lysander rasped, his eyes laced with that same desperation roiling in his gut. “You don’t even have to accept me as a Mate. But you need to feed, and I—“

You were at your limit. You’d already taxed yourself as a newborn damphyr somehow trying to resist the frenzy of the first feed, and now that your Mate was in front of you, offering freely, practically begging you to feed from him, you could only take so much.

You lunged, a snarl dying on your lips as you lunged forward, the strength of your desperation actually knocking the seasoned werewolf down onto the floor. And still, even as you straddled his waist, your fingers curled around his shoulder, eyes fixed on the tempting expanse of his neck… you still tried to fight. Still tried to fight it, to control yourself.

But Lysander’s broad, warm hands gently wrapped around your waist, not fighting or pushing you off. The scar slashing across the left side of his face seemed to glow in the light streaming through the curtained window, and he gave you a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice low and soothing. “I can handle it. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You shuddered, drool dripping down your fangs. Leaning forward slowly, you tried to keep yourself paced, tried to force yourself to some modicum of control. Mouth opening, you lowered your head until your fangs just barely grazed the crook of his neck and shoulder, not too close to his jugular but just enough.

The moment your fangs sank into his throat, Lysander’s fingers went weak around your waist. A deep groan pooled into the air, and a tremor ran through his body underneath you.

Heat pooled in your stomach, even as his blood slid down your throat with a satisfaction unparalleled. He tasted sweet and dusky, like fresh bread and sunshine, and freshly-cut grass after the rain. The pure heat and warmth he radiated soaked into you, and you felt the bloodlust slowly slake as you drank. Finally, you forced yourself to let go, vaguely aware with your instincts that you’d taken enough to not hurt him but probably still leave him a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The bite wound almost instantly healed over, and his grasp on your waist tightened again, fingers flexing as he regained his bearings.

You leaned your head against his chest, the gratitude and shame warring inside you. Grateful that he’d been so kind, so understanding and gentle. Ashamed of your own arousal, the way your entire being reacted to him.

Your name slipped from his lips, and a moment later his face pressed into your hair. His voice ached with the same torn desire that roiled through you. “I shouldn’t—“ He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your body flush against his. You could feel how tight his pants were, could feel the lines of his bulge pressed up against your thigh. A choked groan accompanied the way his hands spasmed around your waist.

“Mate.” The whisper slid from your mouth, the first thing you’d said aloud since your change. Your fingers clenched in his flannel shirt. “Mate… wants me?” Your voice cracked with your fear. Fear that he wouldn’t want to deal with you after all, that you weren’t worth it—

He pulled you closer to him, hand sliding to your hair. “So damn much, sweetheart,” he rasped, cradling your head to his shoulder. “You’re so goddamn beautiful and fierce— I don’t care if you’re human, Seer, damphyr. You’re my true Mate, my love.”

And you buried your face into his shoulder and let yourself shed a few tears of relief. He wanted you. Accepted you, in spite of everything.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay,” his voice strained. “You gave your life for Morrigan, and I’m so much older—“

You reached up, your hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you slanted your lips over his, tears slipping down your cheeks. His mouth opened, kissing you back with a fervor as he splayed his hand over your lower back, pressing you into him. He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into your body. Your entire body flushed, and you let out a quiet whimper.

Almost before you could register it, he flipped you over onto the floor, hovering over you. His teeth bared, and he stared down at you with a heat in his eyes that scorched through you. His hands clenched around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the side and exposing your throat to him, sprawled against the floor. Your chest heaved with breath, and a moment later his teeth closed gently on the arch of your neck. A soft breathy moan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering closed as his scent washed over you, his mouth marking your neck, replacing the memory of the Pricoli’s fingerprints mottled against your skin.

With an effort, Lysander wrenched himself away, though he half rutted against you. “Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he rasped, voice thick and half a snarl already.

“Lysander,” you whispered, lips caressing his name.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled you up against him before heaving himself up and staggering to the bed. He lowered you onto the bed, wasting no time before he practically yanked you to him, his hands hot and greedy. He kissed you, somehow still gentle and yet needy enough to take your breath away.

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

You nodded shyly, letting him slide it off of you. You lifted your hips in an invitation, and he lowered his mouth to your neck as he slipped your shorts off. He groaned, hands sliding across your bared skin. His skin felt so hot to the touch against your chilled body, wholly satisfying. You practically melted into his hands like putty, malleable to however he touched you, moved you. He made you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “So beautiful, leannen.” The Gaelic spilled naturally from his mouth as he slid his hands under your back, unhooking your bra. You let him slide it off, too desperate for the warmth of his hands to process embarrassment. His hands cupped your breasts, callouses rasping across your nipples in a way that left your breathless and aching.

You whimpered, a little encouraged by the way you felt his bulge throb against you at the sound. Fingers tangling in his shirt, you tilted your head for air, arching into his hands.

“Fuck,” Lysander hissed against your jaw, his hips rolling into you. His hands slid lower, and his thumbs hooked in your underwear. “Can I?”

You nodded, fingers clenching against his shoulders as he slid them off. His shirt was already straining at the seams, threatening to rip. At your tug, he took a moment to reach down and practically rip his shirt off, tossing it uncaringly to the side as he opened his mouth against your neck.

You were already dripping, just his touch and scent enough to arouse you. Breath hissed through his teeth as his fingers dragged through your slick, just barely brushing past your clit. A whine escaped your lips as you shivered, fingers slipping against his chest.

“You smell so good,” Lysander groaned, one finger slipping into you as his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re wet. Can I take care of you?” he rumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “You already gorged yourself on my blood. How about I fill you up with something else?”

You flushed, fangs sinking into your lower lip. “Please?” you whispered.

His ice blue eyes flashed, and his chest heaved under your hands. “Oh, are we a little desperate?” He smirked, sliding another finger into you, stretching you. “Want me to pull your legs up on my shoulders and keep you here all night?” He chuckled, feeling you pulse around his fingers. “Mmmm, I think your gorgeous body is being pretty honest, sweetheart. Well. I aim to please my Mate.”

You only had a moment to wonder when he’d managed to get his pants off. His fingers slid out of you, only for you to feel his cock rest heavily against your entrance. He slid against you, and you could feel a dribble of precum smear across your skin. One hand went to your waist, holding you, while his other found your clit again.

“Is this alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and suddenly soft. “I’m a bit of a stretch. I’ll try to go slow.”

With how wet you were, you sincerely doubted that he would find much of a problem. Still, you swallowed and nodded, grateful for his care and the way he tried, every step of the way, to make sure you were comfortable. Then again, you could already tell he wasn’t lying about how big he was. You could feel him resting against you, throbbing against your thigh. Slowly, he pressed just the tip into you, his breath shuddering.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he stretched you open, sliding into you. Compared to the chill of your body, his cock practically radiated heat. By the time he completely bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, you’d already come so close to the edge, drool slipping from the corners of your lips. He seemed to completely fill you, pressing up against every spot inside of you until you swore he’d stretched you into his shape.

Lysander slumped over you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. His entire body shuddered, and his hands clenched around your waist. His chest heaved against yours, muscles flexing as though he were physically holding himself back.

“Thank you.” The shaky whisper pooled against your skin. “For saving her. Giving your life for her. Thank you. For choosing me.”

Your fingers slid into his salt and pepper hair, relishing the stubble against your neck and shoulder. “I love you.” The confession spilled from your lips, quiet in the room.

He shuddered, letting out a low moan. His fingers clenched, just as he pulled you down further onto his cock, pressing up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Lysander,” you repeated obediently, wholly truthful. Your core clenched around him, and he hissed, pulling out to thrust back into you.

“I love you,” he groaned, starting to thrust in a slow but steady rhythm. He reached down, then pulled your legs up around his hips. The new angle made you pulse as he seemed to reach impossibly deeper into you, angling up justenough to hit that one spot inside you that had you gasping and arching.

“You’re so tight,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Feels so good, sweetheart. So good.”

He suddenly reached behind you and grabbed a pillow, then lifted your hips up to prop it under you. Setting you back down, he shifted himself up and pulled your legs up to his shoulders.

A cry left your lips, utterly wrecked and broken. His cock completely filled you, fucking any semblance of coherence out of you, going so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach. He seemed to know exactly how to read your body, adjusting to every whimper you let out, not giving you a break as he kept pounding into you with devastating precision.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” he chuckled, the sound raking down your spine. “Is this what you want?” He thumbed your clit, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You gonna give Mor a little sibling? Taking me so well like this, spread open for me?”

The thought of adding more kids to your life, together with Lysander, proved to be the last straw for your poor mind. You came, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cried out his name and the wave of heat and pleasure washed through your body.

And Lysander just kept fucking you through it, going harder as he pinned you against the sheets under him, not caring that your fingers raked against his shoulders. He bent to kiss you, murmuring your name in a husky voice that just wrecked you even more. He gave you no mercy, his gaze predatory as he stared down at you, soaking in your ruined expression.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he murmured, coaxing you through your high.

Even when you rode it out, he didn’t slow down or let up the pace. “You gonna make me cum, darling? Can I cum inside you?”

A plea staggered off of your lips, followed by his name. Your jumbled, blissed-out mind wouldn’t allow you to do anything else, barely recalling your own name.

“Fuck— gonna cum, sweetheart— gonna fill you up—“ He let out a moan before his hips slammed into you one last time. He ground against you as he came, his bruising grip not letting you move an inch away from him.

You melted back into the bed, eyes closing as you soaked in the feeling of his seed filling you, pouring into you. Your fingers slid up the back of his neck as you lay there, docile and welcoming to his every move. Even when he’d finally stopped spilling into you, your stomach full and hot, he slumped against you.

His lips slid across your throat, soft and almost reverent, and he pulled you into his body. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, his hands running over you with gentle, loving strokes, soothing you.

“I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, treat you the way you should be,” he promised. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” Then he chuckled, hand running over your stomach. “I wonder if Morrigan will want a brother or a sister. She’s already going to be so excited to call you Mommy.”

You gave him a shy smile, accepting his soft kiss. “Thank you, Lysander,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Perhaps the price of your Fate had been high, you thought, but it had been entirely worth it.

[pleasantanathema]

Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk​ 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer! 

           There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

           The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

           You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

           He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

           So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

           And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

           “So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

           “Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

           “Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

           “Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

           You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

           “Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

           “Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

           “Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

           Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

           But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

           You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

           Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

           Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

           “Have you guys opened presents yet?”

           You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

           “No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

           Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

           “I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

           “Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

           “I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

           Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

           “Is that…?”

           “Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

           The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

           You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

           “I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

           You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

           You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

           “Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

           “Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

           “Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

           The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

           You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

           “Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

          You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

           “I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

           “No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

           Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

           He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

           “What are you gonna name her?”

           He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

           “I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

           “Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

           “Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

           “She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

           “I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

           You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

           There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

           You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

           But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

           Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

           You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

           And you still felt like you were missing something.

           Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

           But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

           Jean: You awake?

           Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

           You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

           Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

           You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

           Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

           Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

           Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

           Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

           You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

           You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

           You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

           If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

           But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

           You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

           You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

           Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

           You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

           The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

           “Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

           “Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

           His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

           “I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

           “You’re not wearing pants.”

           “I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

           You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

           He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

           His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

           “Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

           You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

           “This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

           You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

           “Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

           A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

           “Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

           You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

           You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

           “You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

           “Y-yes, feels so good.”

           His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

           You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

           Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

           Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

           “Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

           “You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

           Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

           “Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

           You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

          You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

          His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

          “Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

          “Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

          Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

          It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

          “Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

          There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

          Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

          You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

          It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

          “D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

          But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

          Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

          “Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

          “Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

          He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

          “Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

          “I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

          “I’m full of surprises, baby.”

          You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

          With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

          “Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

          “God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

          It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

          All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

          “So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

          “I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

          “Oh fuck. Good girl.”

          His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

          He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

          “Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

          “Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

          Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

          Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

          “So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

          You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

          Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

          “Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

          You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

          His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

          Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

          “Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

          Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

          The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

          “I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

          God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

          Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

          You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

          When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

          “Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

          His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

          “Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

          “Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

          He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

          “Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

          You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

          You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

          “What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

          “It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

          Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

          “I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

          “You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

          “I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

          You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

          “Yeah, I’d like that.”

          No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

[mywritingonlyfans]

Cornerstone (Yeah, that Arctic Monkeys song) - Fic with Damiano David.

prompt: Damiano used to date your sister, but now that she's dead you're the only thing that can keep her alive for him, making him not worried that he might forget her face.

warnings: none, just pure sadness. Oh, and tysm Evie for the lovely help on this one!!

You remembered well the first time you saw Damiano. It was on the first of many parties you would go in your life, it was the night of your 18th birthday and considering how introverted and reserved you were, your sister, who although looks a lot like you, appearance wise, your personalities were complete opposites, decided that you needed to celebrate in a dignified way. Well, you were two years apart, but her behavior at parties made her seem older than her age, she appeared more experienced, she tolerated drinks well and her charisma was perfect, just right for the party. As much as you always imagined she would be like that, given you were used to seeing her come home late at night on weekends, it was fascinating, even a little intimidating to see for yourself. Basically, Parrot’s Beak was made for her. After 45 minutes of partying, your eyes had noticed Damiano drinking with some friends, his cheekbones were prominent cute, his eyes were striking, and the drink was starting to take effect on his cheeks making them become a lovely, flushed pink - almost like his skin was begging to be kissed. You could replay that moment in your head whenever you wanted, you didn’t even have to close your eyes. Over time, you’ve forced yourself to smile at him, pull your hair out of your eyes between shy glances, trying your hardest to make yourself good-looking for him. It didn’t take long for him to walk towards you, making your nervous and hopeful smile in the process turn into disappointment. You soon realized his glances in between swigs of beer were not for you, but for your sister. He hadn’t even noticed you there, and the sensation that filled your body was painful. That night you accepted you were left out as they walked to the bathroom, and the best to do was to keep your first impressions of Damiano to yourself. It would be the best thing to do; even after the 4-year anniversary of them being together, and of you still finding Damiano stunning.

“You need to stop callin’ me,” you sighed, brushing the back of your hand over your eyes. It was dawn, if she had been there, she would have already made you get up, would have taken the phone from your hands and lay on top of you, making you laugh until you’d fall asleep together. “It’s been almost a year now; you need to stop calling me.”

“But you always make it better,” his drunk voice echoed in your ear. Strange, but you liked listening to him, he spent so many years making her happy that listening to him was like feeling her smiling widely at you after buying chocolate cake at the coffee bar around the corner that you now worked for.

“What do I make better, Damiano?” You asked, prolonging something that didn’t feel right.

“Me,” he sighed deeply, making you do the same. “I like your voice, even more after you’ve woken up, it’s so calm and crystal clear,” He kept talking until your voice broke into a sharp sob as you tried to bite your lip to contain yourself, if she was there she would’ve calmed him down with just a word; but she wasn’t, and he was like that because he didn’t have her anymore.

“I like you Dami, I truly wish you nothing but the best, but I can’t do this anymore,” you verbalized, knowing there were chances of him being oblivious to the fact that he was looking for you because you reminded him of her. “I miss her too, and it’s being too painful.”

With that being said you hung up the phone, pressing it against your chest knowing he would call again next night and then you would pick up, exchange a few words with him, feeling miserable right after for letting him do it again; but the truth was, on the next day you would feel good, not in a healthy way, but in a nostalgic way that would leave you trapped in a cheery image of your sister; whenever she had the opportunity to describe how amazing a date with Damiano was would make you bear through the day.

As you soaked your pillow, the loud music from The Rusty Room along with dancing people made Damiano wet his lips in a dirty smile, his night would be like any other since she was gone, he would get drunk enough to see her face on someone else and would be able to snuggle between the legs of his new salvation or get kicked out for being too much and have no choice but to call you. On nights when his feelings are stronger than before, he would do both. He would call you in hopes that when you answered, you would miraculously become her, then he would tell you about his day and how no one in the band seems to put up with him anymore, and then would wait until you told him it would be okay. Clearly, nothing worked like that in your mind, you were as tough as she was, which was good for him to feel in her presence, but not what he needed at the moment; not least because you had never spoken for more than 5 minutes. That way, he had no choice but to keep looking for her.

Still digesting your dry words, he caught sight of her golden hair and pale skin being bathed in the strong red light, she smiled at him, huddled up in a wicker chair, her eyes was in the same level with his as he wandered up for a closer look, and it felt like it was for the first time, so he came close and kissed her, taking all the air out of her lungs to himself; the random girl wouldn’t mind having another name tonight.

Damiano returned home the next morning in his car, swearing he could still smell her scent on his coat, transmitting it to his seatbelt while he lengthened his trip to the next coffee bar just to be able to feel her presence for longer.

“He’s all yours today!” Your manager said in mock animation.

His eyes were lazy, his lips rosier than usual trapped in a perfect pout, stubble on his face and yet he looked like an angel; but smelling of booze and sleep deprived.

“What do you want?” You asked, observing him up and down; putting on your best character to try to fool him, or yourself. “You need to stop killin’ yourself like that, Dami.” You let your eyes dip into his, and what a regret, now your whole body tingled.

“I just wanna a nice coffee, I need to be alive to work,” he raised his hands in redemption, giving you a cute half smile. His voice as melody and sweet as on the phone. “I just need to calm my mind down, buttercup.”

His whisper ran down your spine, making drops of coffee from the machine splash onto your hand instead of into the cup, your body knew it was wrong, but your mind had liked being called that.

“How’s life?! How’s things goin’, huh, after all that, y’know…” He went on while you gave him his usual hot coffee.

In response, you shook your head, looking around you, cursing the place for not being so busy so that you could have more customers.

“Fine, no more talk, buttercup.” He sounded low and careful this time. You had to take your eyes off him because you felt like you were going to cry.

No more smiles on his tired face, he straightened his clothing, handing you a crumpled currency. Avoiding his eyes, you took it in your hand, taking his change and writing it out in Letraset for him.

“Thank you,” he said, this time without repeating the pet name, since both you and him were now being watched by your manager. Even in front of others, his eyes filled with tears as he looked at your writing; so similar to hers in form, yet so cruel.

“You shouldn’t let him call you the same way he sweet called her.” The manager warned you when he saw the boy leave. Your sister was always around with Damiano, they were completely in love with each other and never hid it from anyone, it was obvious he had noticed.

“He just needs to heal.”

“So do you.”

‘No, you can’t call me the way you used to call her’ were marked on his change.

Battleship, next night.

Rum was already a necessary substance to oxygenate his blood, it was the 4th shot, he had a dizzy mind with you on it, from the tip of your nose that seemed to follow him when he was speaking, to your contradictory voice that sounds just like hers when you say that you don’t want him around. He needed you.

He glanced around the room, searching for his daily fix of sex for the night but soon changed his mind, taking his cell phone in his hands and punching in your number that he already knew by heart.

“I’m sorry, you’re by yourself?” A serene voice awakened him from his trance, the blond hair and lips drawn in a perfect heart shape similar to hers made him forget about his cell phone.

“Yes, I am.” He confirmed, his throat going dry. Every night the same thing, but he still got carried away by a vision trick; given that the reality was way too difficult to face. “All by myself and free for the night.”

She laughed at his despair, and even though the sound wasn’t similar to hers, he decided he could play pretend in his mind. The girl’s laugh fell silent, feeding his head with the image of her as he closed his eyes tight, for a second he swore not to feel his feet anymore, wondering if it might be the effect of being close to be her ghost but when he said it out loud, calling the random girl by her name, all he felt was a pair of hands pushing him back while cursing him in as many ways as possible. Had the girl said her name to him? He couldn’t tell, it wasn’t like he cared.

“I need you,” you had tears running down your chin, your voice was nothing but sobs.

His smile widened, scratching the affected spot, feeling his body becoming more relaxed as he heard your voice filling the phone call. You needed him, so you called him. Just like in every other night.

“A nightmare again?” He asked cautiously, not even needing to ask what it had been about; he already knew.

“Yes,” you looked tired, as much as he did. “I need you, Dami, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“I’m on my way, buttercup.”

The shared room still smelled of her, he knew it was because of you spreading the rest of her perfume across the bed she slept in. The atmosphere was different without her there, you both felt it, but somehow it felt good to be there and feel a bit of her false presence.

“You’re drunk again,” you sighed as he brought his fingers to your cheekbone, pulling some tears away. “She wouldn’t like that.”

He nodded, “she really wouldn’t.” Damiano smiled, seeing a shy smile spread across your lips.

Your movements were quick as silence filled the room, your arms went around his waist, making him have no choice but to snuggle you into his grip, a relieved sigh left his lips and he felt good knowing you no longer cried. The lack of voices made everything more comfortable, it cleared his mind, making his muscles relax. And when he felt you dig your face deeper into his shirt, he let his chin rest on your head as you found comfort in the scent that had often been used to be on her clothes.

The weather was grey, sad. Similar with your mood. Staying motivated to work was not what you wanted today, or any other day.

“What are you doing outside? You weren’t supposed to be working?” Damiano said, tucking you under his umbrella, his eyebrow puckered into a cute pout.

“I can’t work, I’m very sad and sleepless.” You imitated your manager’s voice, showing pure irritation.

“Not a good day, I see,” he remained in high spirits, even seeing your angry face as your request for Uber was denied on the screen in your hands.

“Wouldn’t you go get a coffee?” You deposited your disappointment in him. His face still in a smile, he was never one to be shaken by so little; just like her, in fact so alike to her that it was quite annoying at times. She wouldn’t be giving the hate for her bad day to anyone.

“There’s no point, I only come here for you.” Your mind knew well, it was already used to his tricks, but you still couldn’t help but smile.

His words softened your body and you allowed yourself to look at him, he didn’t seem to have had a rough night, his eyes were still as intense as she had described the night she met him. “Cornerstone doesn’t make any sense without me, I agree with you.” His lips spread; you were happy to make him smile.

The comfortable silence seemed to wrap you around each other, he brushed your hair back from your eyes, getting so close he thought you would might understand. “Can I get much closer?”

You nodded, feeling the tears blurring your vision. You knew he saw in you a way not to forget her face, but letting him go would hurt more. “Look, I’m really not supposed to — but yes, you can call me anything you want.”

--

Tagging: @pingpongchamps @oro-e-diamanti @marriedwithmarktuan @user0126 @its-afucking-mess @dont-let-me-drown-in-you

[reidyoulikeabook]

A is for Ankle Socks

Summary: The first installment in my A-Z of Spencer Reid series. Spencer Reid is very particular about his socks.

Ship: fem ! BAU reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Discussions of case-typical violence, blood, brief description of a fight, minor injury to reader that requires some stitches.

A/N: hello! this is my first ever series and i’m very nervous about it! it’s going to be a chronological a-z series with Spencer, detailing the progression of your relationship!

Spencer Reid permanently wears odd socks. The only time you can recall him wearing matching ones, in the year you’ve known him, was on days he had to go to court. Then, it was required that he wear the technically mandated uniform of proper leather shoes, and monochrome socks. On those days, Hotch would turn up with a pair of black socks tucked into his briefcase, just in case. Spencer had needed them, twice.

However, today is not a court day. Today is day 8 of a case in back of beyond Oregon that, quite frustratingly, seems to be going absolutely nowhere.

It says quite a lot, really, that in a day spent combing over convicts with domestic violence charges, the sight you look up to see is more viscerally disturbing. Spencer’s perched on the end of a desk, as he so often seems to be, his ankles crossed over each other. Signature black converse on his feet. And he appears...not to be wearing socks?

He notices you looking at him, and flicks his eyes downward self-consciously, “Is something wrong?”

“Are you wearing socks?”

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Uh. No. I meant to go to the laundrette last night but then Hotch called us into that meeting. I wasn’t expecting to be out here this long.”

“Is it comfortable?” You ask, “Wearing those without socks?”

He kicks his feet around just slightly, “Not really. I guess I’d forgotten about it until you mentioned.”

“Sorry,” You say, with an apologetic smile.

“Not your fault,” He says, looking back at the paperwork in his lap, “Hey would you mind coming to take a look at this actually? I think I might have something.”

***

By day 2, you’d learnt that the only sandwich shop in town had a reputation for bad food hygiene that none of you felt like risking. Normally, everyone would roll their eyes at Spencer for his investigation into such things. However, in this case, everyone else seemed to be as thankful as you always were.

It’s your turn to do the lunch run today, so you head to the grocery store that isn’t too far out of town. Putting your car in park, you mentally run through the list that the team had given you: cheap pasta for everyone but Rossi, who was willing to risk running foul of their microwave meal selection, as many coffee supplies as you could manage, some sour gummy worms for Spencer, mineral water for Hotch, and tights for you. It was frankly quite impractical to wear the things. You ran through so many brambles, fell down so many times, that you almost felt you should get pantyhose hazard pay. In fall in Oregon though? You’d splash out the $6 for the sake of preventing frostbite. If only because Hotch would be furious.

You smile at the thought. Wandering through the aisles, you collect everything you need. Spencer only asked for a pack of sour gummy worms, but, with a smile on your face, you decide to get him the strawberry laces he likes too.

It’s only when you scan the cart, last minute, that you realise what you’ve forgotten.

Tights. Shit.

Wheeling the cart around, you weave through the aisles looking for them. The underwear aisle is aisle 20, and it looks like it’s been ransacked. Flicking through the disorganised display, you see them.

A five pack of socks, adorned with farm animals and backgrounds of a completely clashing colour. It’s almost too bright for you, but you know a certain sockless Spencer who will be sure to appreciate them. Out of curiousity, you navigate your way over to the men’s section and have a look through. Mostly, it’s all black and navy. Right at the back though, you spy a similarly garish looking pack, this time with vegetables on.

You put them in the basket, eyes flickering over a pair of matching aubergine patterned boxers, as you make your way over to the tights. You select your usual kind, turning your attention back to the boxers.

Is it weird to get him boxers?

He’d know it was a joke, right?

Is it weird to get him socks?

Well he didn’t have any

Yeah but you don’t need to get him two packs

Yes I do we might be here a while

10 more days?

He could fall. He could spill coffee on his shoes. He could get shot.

How would socks help with him getting shot?

Your internal monologue gives you a moments reprieve, and then.

Kinda weird you got him socks

Nobody else would have got him socks

Yeah well I’m just thoughtful.

The last thought crosses your mind without permission, and you almost bristle at the brazenness of your lie to yourself. However, you decide, examining the real reasons you’re so eager to provide comfort to your favourite co-worker would require mental stamina you didn’t have right now. Mental stamina that would be better put to use on the case at hand. Mental stamina that definitely wasn’t being used to employ the BAU’s favourite defense mechanism: denial.

***

“I got you a surprise.”

“A surprise?” Spencer spins around in his chair to face you.

“Yep,” You say, plopping the sweets down onto the desk in front of him and grinning.

“Strawberry laces!” He says, smile lighting up his face, “Thanks ____!”

“That’s not the surprise.”

He quirks his brow, confusion tugging at his features, “Then what’s the surprise?”

You untuck your arms from behind your back, handing him the pairs of socks.

He looks down at them. He’s silent for a moment, and your heart thuds.

Fuck.

Told you it was weird.

It’s definitely weird.

He definitely thinks you’re-

You don’t have time to finish that thought, however, because Spencer scoots his chair back. Standing up, he pulls you into a hug. He gently squeezes you, and when he speaks his voice is low, cracking a little.

“Thank you,” He says quietly, “That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

You lean into him, allowing yourself to be enveloped, “No problem. I know you have some issues with sensory things sometimes and I just thought, you know,” you trail off, “Anyway, I didn’t know which ones you’d prefer and I know you like to mix and match anyway so I just got both.”

He doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes you again, tighter this time, before releasing you. Strangely, he won’t meet your eye as he does.

“I’m gonna go put them on, okay?”

“Okay,” You say, watching a little quizically as he hurriedly heads out of the room.

Derek happens to be heading back to the room, bumping into Spencer on his way out.

“You alright kid?” He asks.

“I'm fine," Spencer says, waving him off. He tries to avoid meeting Derek’s eyes, knowing as well as he does that if the profiler catches the look on his face he’ll be found out.

Derek allows him to shrug past him with a confused glance over his shoulder. He walks into the room, scooping the nearest file off the desk and asking in your general direction, “You know what’s up with him?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the p.

You don’t. And it’d bother you, except you genuinely don’t have time right now to dwell on it. Although, try as you might to focus on narrowing down this list of factories in the area, it niggles at you.

***

You don’t see Spencer again until you’re heading out to the unsubs location. You get called out by Hotch in the minute before he returns, and then it’s all guns blaring. Emily and Dave managed to work some magic with Penelope, and the place he’s holding the hostage has been narrowed down to a factory quite far out of town.

You’re perched in the back, discussing entry tactics with Hotch when your eyes travel down to Spencer’s shoes.

One chicken, and one broccoli sock sit on his left and right feet respectively. It’s hard to see them though, with how far they are down his feet.

Hotch answers his phone then, immediately barking down commands at the local PD who are apparently failing to summon adequate manpower, in Hotch’s opinion at least.

You take the moment to cautiously lean over to Spencer, whispering, “Were they not the right size?”

He smiles at you, “They fit just fine as ankle socks.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to check the sizes, womens ones are pretty much all one size. I completely forget that men have massively different sized feet.”

He laughs, “Are you suggesting I have huge feet?”

You feel yourself flush a little, “I don’t think that’d necessarily be an inaccurate suggestion.”

Amused, he smiles. Hotch turns around to you both, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, “I need you to call Penelope, and tell her to get us all the CCTV she can get in the area. If we’re going to have to go in without enough men to cover the perimeter we’ll need all the tactical advantages we can get.”

“Of course, sir.”

***

Lunging forward, you tackle the unsub to the ground, effectively freeing Spencer from the grasp he’d previously been held in.

“It’s over Peter,” Hotch’s voice comes, even and steady.

“No it’s not.”

Before you can even register what’s happening, you’re being tossed backwards, landing against some barbed wire. Immediately, you’re on your feet again, running after him. Not noticing how the wire has ripped a hole in your tights, and cut into your leg a little.

Grabbing his arms behind him, you use all your strength to subdue him to the floor, handcuffing him. Wiping the sweat off your brow, you breathe out a deep sigh of relief.

Derek has it from there, patting you on the shoulder and giving you a “Good job kiddo.” He leads Peter out.

You rub your chest, feeling the adrenaline start to flood out of your body with all the excitement now over. A stinging senstation in your calf gets your attention, and looking down you see the nasty wound oozing blood. It isn’t much, nothing that two stitches won’t fix.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asks, having gotten up from his position on the floor, “You didn’t have to...Derek would have gotten him.”

“Why should he be the only one that gets to tackle people?” You ask, letting out a breathless tinkle of a laugh.

“Statistically, he is the one who does the most tackling out of all of us. Then Hotch, then Emily, then Rossi, then me, then you.”

“I am not the one that tackles the least,” You say indignantly.

He tips his head to the side, “Are you gonna argue with the guy who has an eidetic memory or are we going to get you stitched up?”

“Both, please.”

He laughs at that, linking his arm around your waist. You limp against him a little, out to the paramedics. Mostly it’s for Spencer’s benefit. That’s what you tell yourself, you’re letting him help you so he doesn’t feel emasculated.

When has Spencer Reid ever fallen pray to toxic masculinity?

He might have

When?

Well he could

You just like how he smells

It’s true. The faint waft of his cologne is incredibly comforting. He doesn’t loosen his grip on you for even a second, helping to hoist you so you can sit on the ambulance bed while the medics attend to your leg. You’re feeling a little woozy, so Spencer sits next to you, allowing you to lean on him for support.

“Can you tell me something?” You ask, gritting your teeth, “Distract me?”

It doesn’t really hurt, getting stitched up, you’ve just never found it the most comfortable of processes. All your favourite cases have ended with you not having to get sewn up. You know that much.

“I’ve actually only tackled one more person than you in my entire BAU career,” He says, deciding to return to your former discussion, “I didn’t really go out in the field all that much until a couple years in, it was only because of Hotch that I really went out in the field to take down an unsub for the first time. That was March 12th, 2005. You’ve only been here 9 months and have done almost as much physical stuff as me. One more and we’re even.”

“Well, if you could try not to be the person getting tackled by the unsub next time. Then I might not have to make a tackle.”

His mouth turns up at the corner, “You tackled him for me?”

You feel yourself growing embarassed, “Not for you. For the socks.”

“Oh the socks?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s a little unfair to go putting yourself in harms way while wearing a gift someone got for you. 5 dollar socks Spencer, practically designer at that price, I’d hate to see them ruined day one.”

He laughs, his tone playful, “Well you’ll need to bare that in mind.”

“Huh?”

He tilts his head towards Emily, strutting her way across to the ambulance with Spencer’s go-bag in her arms. She hands it to him, smiling at you.

“Should I let Morgan know the team will no longer be in need of his services?”

You snort, “I’d hate to steal his brand.”

She shakes her head, “Drinks when we get back? Hotch said the jet’s ready for whenever you’re done, and Rossi says he’s buying.”

“You got it,” You nod.

She pats you on the shoulder, exaggeratedly eyeing your leg again and rolling her eyes as she walks away, “Idiot.”

You smile, turning back towards Spencer, “Are you coming for drinks? I can drive you home.”

He visibly considers it for a moment, “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’re all done here,” The paramedic interrupts, wiping down your leg with an anti-bacterial wipe, “Was a really smooth tear for barbed wire, shouldn’t leave that much of a scar.”

They press a bandage over it and you thank them, getting to your feet with the help of Spencer.

“Wait, why’d you get Emily to bring your go-bag if we’re going home?”

He looks almost bashful. Out of his bag, he pulls a three pack of tights. Just the kind you always wear. Down to your preferred brand, and everything.

“When did you-?”

“I noticed you rip them a lot while we’re on cases. I didn’t know if it was weird but then...the socks?” He gestures at his feet, floundering, “I’m sorry if that’s...I just didn’t-”

“No,” You cut off his ramble, “No, Spencer, that’s really sweet. Thank you, thank you so much. Can I hug you?”

He nods, happily. You wrap him into your arms, pressing your face against his chest. Inhaling the scent of him. Reveling in how safe you feel, how protected, thinking how you’d take three hundred stitches if it meant you got Spencer out of harms way. He was so thoughtful, so kind, so attentive to detail.

Oh fuck.

You can barely look at him. It hits you like a train, the realisation. Co-workers save each other from unsubs. Friends buy each other gifts that have meaning and value. But only somebody who is in love feels like this when they get handed tights. Oh.

It’s a warm feeling. Overwhelming. So much so that you miss Spencer saying he’ll be right back, scooting off to Rossi who’s shouting him over with a question the local PD need answering for their report.

You stumble a little, thankful that you have the blood loss and adrenaline rush to blame if anybody were to notice.

You wait for the wave of denial to hit, to come and lock your feelings back in the treasure chest you’ve managed to shove them down into now. It doesn’t come. Instead, you look at Spencer with a sense of awe that feels newfound, but has actually been here all along. Watching him speak to Rossi, you really notice him: just how much he gestures with his hands, how quickly he relays information, how the huge smile on his face, when he turns around to notice you staring, truly meets his eyes.

***

You can’t tell if it makes you a good profiler, or somewhat of a stalker, that you notice Spencer wears the ankle socks you got him to work everyday for the next 9 days.

Spencer worries he’s being a little too obvious, but he can’t help that whenever he sees the socks he beams at them. They remind him of you. Unbeknownst to everybody but Dave (who somehow notices everything), he spends a good minute or so a day sneaking a peek at the novelty socks under his converse. And then trailing his eyes over to you. Thinking how much he loves the person who got them for him.

----

B is for Blindfolds

Tagslist (this is just people who replied to the post about this series and said they’d like to be tagged! let me know if you’d like to be added/removed to this series masterlist): @reidingmelodies @rem-ariiana

[partlystiles]

So, I noticed you write for Peter Pettigrew,,, I was wondering if you could write something for him and a female s/o? Where he has to introduce his incredibly shy, Hufflepuff s/o to the other Marauders. Bonus points if she’s short, like 4’11-5’0. You can ignore this if you’d prefer not to write it. Have a wonderful day.

i will always write for my baby. your wish is my command. also sorry if this isn’t what you were imagining!

Young!Peter Pettigrew x fem!reader

summary: For days Peter had been non-stop talking to his friends about his girlfriend and for the life of them, they could never catch him with her. Peter hated getting bothered by them as much as he did so to put them at ease, he arranges an introduction. 

word count: 2,307

warning: swearing. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallways of Hogwarts were ones of great architecture and historic stories that the many portraits of old witches and wizards absolutely loved to talk and brag about. Students and ghosts alike walked along the corridors every day without really admiring it apart from when statues liked to jump out at them or portraits grabbed their attention with things varying from manic laughter to noisy singing. It truly was a work of art.

It looked like somewhere royals or people in high society back in the olden days would come to stay for their Honeymoon or just for a small change of scenery and no matter how strict the rules, how tidy the uniforms or how high the expectations, students definitely did not act as tidy or as civilised as a royal or a lady or lord would do.

A prime example would be groups of rowdy teenage boys thinking insulting innocent bystanders or making creepy comments about a girls body would be a proper thing to do in a hallway as grand as the ones in Hogwarts. Another example would be the much rowdier, much more irresponsible pranksters of Hogwarts that rivalled against the other boys in witty comments or just funny circumstances.

You often rolled your eyes at their work or mutter quietly about them under your breath when they passed, practically yelling for the whole corridor to hear unless they were about to pull a prank and whispering which is where you would normally make your leave from that particular corridor. But they seemed to be everywhere you went and you didn’t see why until a particular member of the group approached you in the Kitchens one night when you were getting your midnight snack from the house elves.

He said he liked you which made you look around for maybe a sign of the other boys in wonder if this was some sort of prank. But it wasn’t and he...actually liked you. It definitely didn’t escape your notice that the boy was one of the quiet ones and seemed to be holding his breath when he confessed. Sadly, the confession was right before the summer so all you could do was send letters over the holidays which were slightly awkward. 

More so when you returned to school and found yourself glancing at each other from across the hallways before you turned and scurried off in another direction after smiling. Then he began to join you on your midnight snack journeys which developed into a beautiful relationship full of blushes, grins and soft, gentle kisses stolen before you had to separate.

Pranks your way were avoided and you were practically living in bliss until he proposed that he wanted you to meet his friends. As in the rowdy ones, as in the ones that get all the good scores no matter how hard you try and the ones that always disrupt your reading time in the library.

It was safe to say that you were  nervous because you were nothing like them, loud noises weren’t your thing and you’d much prefer to curl up next to the Black Lake with a book in your hand then join the group of boys in the Great Hall where they probably threw food at each other and if someone else's food ever touched you, you felt like you might be sick. Not to mention the fact that all of them are giants compared to you.

“They are going to love you.” Peter promised, his grip on your hand tight as he tried to drag you down the hallway whilst you planted your feet firmly to the ground. For someone so small, he was amazed at how much you can resist his pull.

“They’re going to hate me.” You argued back attempting to pull him the other way but definitely not succeeding. “I’m awkward and lonely and weird and obsessed with bees which is definitely not normal.”

“It’s cute.” He chuckled, giving up on his pulling but being pulled towards you by your grip when he had given up. You stumbled but he grabbed you arms and stabilised you before you could fall forward and hit the floor. “You’re cute.”

“I am not like them.” You took yourself out of his arms with a mutter, frowning slightly whilst Peter frowned too. “They’re loud and you’ve been friends with them forever and I’m just new. If they don’t like me then we’re gonna...”

“I’m not gonna break up with you if they don’t like you.” Peter shook his head and stepped close, his hand reaching down to tilt your chin up so he was looking down into your eyes. “They’ll love you...I promise.”

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never even thought of being friends with them. They’re just so loud and I...I’m quiet and shy and I stick my face in a book every time they come near me. I just know that they’ll find me weird, Peter.” You covered your face with you hands, shaking your head.

“Oh, baby...” He wrapped his arms around you in a hug and you welcomed it gratefully, hopefully he would listen to you...but no, Peter lifted you up and put you easily over his shoulder as you yelped and kicked your legs. “Come on.”

“Peter, no, please.” You begged as he walked down the corridor with you over his shoulders and consequently receiving a lot of stares which you shyly leant your head on his back to try and get rid of the stares. You were just happy that it was the weekend and you were wearing jeans instead of a skirt. “Pete, please put me down.”

“Not until we’re at the hall and you see how excited they are to meet you.” He laughed as you groaned at him and nuzzled your head into his back as you turned a corner. Your palms were beginning to get sweaty and you felt your breathing pick up slightly at you nervousness.

“Peter, seriously.” Your voice had retreated to a small murmur, no longer were you joking around. You really didn’t think that his friends would like you, they were confident and charming and you were reserved, flustered easily and talked about bees all the time. Hell, in the summer you were in an environmental protest against pollution whilst they were probably having fun swimming somewhere.

“You’ll be fine, angel. We’re here.” He said and slowly lowered you from his shoulder, you nervously glanced around when you noticed you were outside the Great Hall and you looked into it to see the familiar three boys sat at the Gryffindor Table. “Hey.” You looked at Peter again. “I’ll be right there with you. They may be tall and slightly intimidating but they’re nice.”

“Sirius once spilt tea on my book and didn’t apologise.”

“He’s an energetic guy, he probably didn’t notice.” Peter tilted his head and you nodded in acceptance, pursing your lips. When he did it, you didn’t confront him and just moved away mumbling under your breath and shaking out your book. “Ready?”

You hesitated as he took your hand and started walking into the Great Hall, dragging you behind him with a small grin on his face.

“No.” You finally answered, gulping and stepping closer to Peter as you got closer to the three boys flinging pieces of bread at each other.

“Too slow.” Peter grinned back at you, tugging you along and you whined, deciding to catch up to him but walk behind him in an attempt to hide from the others. You were there in no time and tucked yourself behind Peter, hoping that your size would prevent you from being seen. “Hey boys, since you’ve been asking...here she is.”

You only heard silence as you stayed behind Peter, gulping nervously. 

“I fucking knew she was imaginary, I called it.” The voice of Sirius Black came from in front  of Peter before he exclaimed in pain after sounding like he was being hit with something. 

Out of curiosity, you tried to peak out from behind your boyfriends shoulder as little as possible but a pair of soft brown eyes met yours instead and you found yourself frozen in place as you stared straight at Remus Lupin and he raised his eyebrows at you. You slowly went back behind Peter, knowing it was stupid because he’d seen you but you did it anyway, raised eyebrows could mean a million different things.

“She’s not imaginary, Padfoot, she’s just behind him.” Remus said and you shut your eyes in regret as your forehead fell forward and hit Peter’s back whilst he moved out of the way and you were faced with three pairs of eyes staring up at you. “Hi, I’m Remus.”

“James.”

“Sirius, but you can call me anytime.”

Peter took a daily prophet off of the table and hit him on the head with it as Sirius laughed and raised his hands in defence, you smiled awkwardly at it and avoided all eye contact. Your hand squeezed Peter’s slightly and he looked between you and his friends, frowning again.

“This is Y/N L/N, my girlfriend.” He introduced and gestured you forward slightly, you glanced up and gave a small wave at them. James was smiling at you, Remus was smiling only a little bit but mainly just examining you and Sirius narrowed his eyes at you before standing.

He towered over you and you gulped as you tilted your head up and his grey eyes examined you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. You backed up slightly, Peter’s hand on the small of your back as he stroked soft circles with his thumb. You continued to avoid eye contact.

“You are tiny.” He stated and you nodded with a small clear of your throat, your eyes trained to the floor. “Well, to me you are. I’m sure Pete has an easier time since he’s tiny too.”

“5′9 is not tiny.” Peter defended and Sirius snorted, sitting back down at his chair as you breathed out in slight relief and stood awkwardly for a second.

“Take a seat if you like, we don’t bite.” James smiled and you about to tell him that it was okay and you didn’t actually want to be there anywhere but Peter nodded encouragingly at you and you sat opposite Lupin, Peter sitting next to you and putting an arm around your waist to let you know that he was there and close.

“So how did you two meet?” Remus asked, biting a bit of his sandwich as James nodded from next to him, both of their gazes were on you and you could feel Sirius staring at you too. 

You thought Peter was going to answer so you looked up at him but he was looking at you too, nodding his head and he gave your waist a quick squeeze. You gulped and turned your head back around, eyes trained to the table.

“Well, uh, I was getting...a snack at night and then he, uh, came in and yeah...yeah.” You mumbled, clearing your throat slightly and looking up at the boys before back at the table and then back up at the boys. Your hands were fidgeting together under the table and your knee was bouncing.

“You snuck all the way to the kitchens at night without getting caught?” James widened his eyes as he looked around at his friends and you glanced up, back down again and then up one more time. 

“Well, I’m a- I’m a Hufflepuff so my common room is uh...right next to the kitchens.” You nodded slowly.

“Useful.” Sirius said and you glanced at him quickly, furrowing your eyebrows at his narrowed eyes as he looked at you.

“I-I don’t understand...useful for what?” You looked around at them all nervously, Sirius was the one to answer so you looked at him again and found him smirking down at you.

“Pranks.” He shrugged his shoulders, grinning and you gulped again, nodding and smiling awkwardly as you turned your head to Peter who smiled again and rubbed his hand on your waist. “So, Y/N my tiny friends tiny girlfriend, what do you like to do?”

“I’m uh, I’m a passionate advocate for environmental change.” You said, nodding as your eyes found comfort on the table once more. Glancing up once, you caught Remus’ smile as he looked at you and you awkwardly smiled back. “I like to read, anything really no genres. I love exploring different cultures and uh...I like bees.”

“Bees?” James furrowed his eyebrows with a grin as he leaned forward and you nodded awkwardly. “That’s adorable.”

“Why do you like bees?” Sirius laughed. “Is it because they’re yellow and black like your tie?”

“Well, almost 90% of wild plants and 75% of leading global crops depend on animal pollination so they do a lot for us and they look nice on the flowers in my garden.” You said and glanced up to them all smiling at you.

“I’ll have to see your garden sometime.” James mentioned and your eyes snapped over to him as your fidgeting hands slowed down but your knee kept bouncing. “I love flowers. Especially Lilies.”

The boys all laughed and even you managed to crack a small smile at James’ infamous crush on Gryffindor Lily Evans. You felt Peter’s hand squeeze your hip slightly and you looked over at him, your eyes managing to lock in comparison to how you avoided the rest of their gazes. You were sure that your cheeks were flushed at the attention you got but Peter only smiled and kissed your cheek as you scrunched your face up with an adorable smile in his opinion.

“I told you they’d love you.” He whispered into your ear, kissing  your cheek again before you both directed your attention back to Sirius’ talking. 

[mochegato]

Well, Well, Well, If It Isn’t the Consequences of My Actions

Continuation of Truth Be Told

Marinette was still trying to parse through the events of the previous night.  Time, advice from Tikki, sleep, hysterical laughter, and the alcohol she’d drunk as soon as she’d gotten home hadn’t really helped.  To make it worse, Adrien had noticed something was up with her and had followed her to her studio so he could make sure she was okay, so she hadn’t been able to continue her breakdown in peace, because that would mean explaining the previous night to him.  And although Red H… Jason may have issues with secret identities, she did not.

She looked at her notice-free phone again with a sigh.  Maybe she should restart it.  Maybe he had tried calling or texting, but her phone wasn’t working correctly.  That had happened before, right?  That would explain why he hadn’t tried to contact her yet. Or, maybe with a more sober mind, he had decided he really wasn’t that interested.  Or!  Or he didn’t remember her.  Maybe he didn’t remember anything about her and was staring at his own phone right now in utter confusion about why her number was in it.

She was brought out of her spiral by the sound of the bell over the door.  “Sorry we’re…” she started until she saw who it was, “…closed.”  Her breath caught for a second when Jason smiled charmingly at her. “Oh no, no, no, no,” she muttered to herself, glancing over at Adrien nervously.  This could not be happening right now.  He was supposed to call or text.  Not… how did he even know where she would be?  Damned bats.

Adrien perked up from his spot grading students’ papers, an incredulous grin on his lips.  “Oh my God, please tell me that’s Rose’s boy that you told to fuck off. Can I get rid of him, please?  I haven’t gotten to be destructive in a while.”

Marinette wrinkled her face in disgust at the idea of seeing that guy again.  “No! He happened after,” she said getting up to meet Jason.

“You ran into him after your date?  How dare you not tell me about him!” Adrien hissed at her as she walked away.

She turned around to face him as she walked away. “Oh, I dare,” she hissed back.

“Is he why you’ve been so off today?” he whisper yelled.

“Weren’t you going to go get some coffee?  Now?” She called back.

Adrien looked between the two of them and raised an eyebrow at Marinette making sure she really wanted to be left alone with this guy who was easily as big as her dad.  “Yeah.  I need… caffeine apparently.  Something for you too?”  She nodded at him, but kept her eyes on Jason.  “Hey guy I’m suspiciously not allowed to talk to, you want anything from the coffee shop?”

Jason’s eyes flicked over to him for a few seconds to shake his head.  “No, thank you.  I’m fine.”

“Yeah, you are,” Marinette whispered to herself, not anticipating Adrien passing by just then on his way out the door.  

“Heard that,” he grinned before leaving.  

Marinette glared at him but quickly returned her gaze to Jason.  Once she was sure Adrien had gone and couldn’t hear them, Marinette finally broke the silence.  “I was expecting a call or a text,” she said carefully.  “Not that I mind the in-person appearance,” she added quickly.  “It was just… unexpected,” she finished awkwardly.

“I could have sworn you said to meet you at your work,” Jason said a little more innocently than was natural.  Marinette smiled, but quickly schooled her expression and shook her head.  Jason smiled back and shrugged.  “Huh, must be the memory lapses.  Kind of hazy.  Things come in and out.”  He knocked his knuckles against his head lightly.

Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he nodded popping the P.  His smile morphed into a smirk.

“Poor you,” she pouted in mock sympathy.  “Then I don't suppose you remember the proposal.”

Jason's smirk dropped. This time his wide eyes looked completely natural and believable. “Proposal?” he asked apprehensively.

“Yeah, the proposal,” she prompted him.  “Don't tell me you forgot about it,” she continued, her own eyes going wide to match his and her voice turning timid.  “You said you didn't have a ring on you, but you couldn't imagine living another day without me.  You wanted to get married as soon as possible.  Oh no.”  She gasped quietly for effect.  “You have forgotten.”

Jason blinked a few times.  He was doing a masterful job of containing any outward signs of his panic.  Marinette could just barely see a few flickers in his eyes that he quickly tamped out.  “What? No!  No, no, no.  That’s just… No, no, not at all,” he stammered.  “It's just, that's so…” he chuckled nervously, “so not like me.  I'm just... impressed how, uh… how bold I was,” he offered.

Marinette watched him closely for a few seconds before she burst out laughing.  Jason's jaw dropped to the floor.  “You were joking,” he observed in awe.  Marinette couldn't answer.  She was gasping too hard for breath, doubled over and grasping her sides.  “Oh thank God.  I want to be mad but I'm just too grateful. Shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Marinette grinned at him when her laughs finally edged down to chuckles.  “Well, that seems fair.  You almost gave me quite a few last night.  And your brother, I think.”

Jason grimaced.  “Was I that bad?”

Marinette quirked her head to the side in thought. “No, not bad.  Just… like when you just kind of stared at me for a few minutes, without saying anything, which apparently was because you were impressed but I thought it was because you were a serial killer.”  Jason chuckled lightly and bobbed his head in apology.  “Or when you revealed your face, no mask.  Or, when you told me your full name and your brother’s first name, and that he was your brother.”  

Jason winced at that revelation.  That would explain the dagger he was almost too sluggish to dodge this morning.  And the glares and lecture on the importance of security and identities.  “Maybe not my finest moment,” he conceded as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Marinette giggled at that.  “Maybe not, but you were extremely drugged and extremely endearing.”  She looked down, a light blush settling on her cheeks.  “And very complimentary.”  

“Well, that’s good at least.  I don’t really remember anything I said.”  He rubbed the back of his neck and shuffled his feet, looking around the store instead of at her.  “So, did you want to talk about last night?” he offered a bit more casually than was natural.

Marinette could see the discomfort in his eyes even if they weren’t pointed at her.  She smiled kindly at him, hoping it would put him at ease.  “Why?  You worried that you said something embarrassing?” she teased lightly.  “You didn’t.”

“Not really,” he shrugged and looked back at her and relaxed into a charming smile.  “I don't embarrass that easily.  And if I said anything I should be embarrassed about, you wouldn't have given me your number.”

Marinette scoffed at him and leaned against the table they were next to.  “I gave you my number, so you’d stop giving me clues to your identity… and your brother’s.  Didn’t work. You were quite determined.”

“I must have thought you were worth it,” Jason smiled. “High me is a very astute me.”  Marinette blushed at the sincerity in his eyes. How was he still this charming even when he wasn’t blitzed out of his mind?  “But,” he continued with renewed vigor, “if I’d done anything too bad, you would have told me already, or kicked me out.”

Marinette laughed lightly.  “Well, you’re not wrong.”  She looked back up after a beat with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.  “So, the background check on me is complete then? You’re allowed to interact with me now.”

Jason rolled his eyes and leaned closer to her over the table.  “I mean, the blood sample results were good.  Your cholesterol is a little high, by the way,” he started thoughtfully.  “It was kind of you to donate though.  Very conscientious.  And you really should call your parents.  It’s been a few days.”  Marinette paled significantly as he continued to speak.  Jason grinned.  “And we have an appointment to talk to your first boyfriend.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and let out a relieved laugh. “You reached for the sun with that one and your wings melted.”  He looked at her questioningly.  “He would have told me if he had an interview with anyone.  We talk a lot.  Not to mention why do that when you could just interview him in person.  He’ll be in town for his tour next week anyway.”

“Wait… really?”

“You didn’t even know who it was?” Marinette laughed.

“I’m sure my family have been doing extensive research on you and they probably know, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. If there was anything bad, they would tell me, otherwise I want to find out from you,” he answered sincerely and taking her hand.  “The only thing I know about you is your name and that’s only because you put it in my phone. I had a vague recollection of what you looked like and being incredibly impressed with you, but that’s pretty much it. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come down in person, to see if…” he searched for the best way to finish the thought.

Marinette nodded.  “To see if the chemistry was as good as you remember?  To see if it was still good when you weren’t drugged?” she offered nervously.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed.  “You too?”

Marinette took a breath and looked back up at him through her lashes, giving his hand a squeeze.  “Yeah.  I was nervous it was all because of the drugs.”

Jason gave her a relieved smile.  At least he wasn’t the only one nervous about it.  He wasn’t alone in this.  She was navigating it with him.  He squeezed her hand back.  “So,” he started, leaning back to give her a roguish grin, but keeping a grip on her hand, “who is the ex-boyfriend on tour?”

“Luka Couffaine.”

“Guitarist for Jagged Stone!” he exclaimed loudly, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Yeah.  I mean he wasn’t at the time.  But now, yes.”  Her eyes shone with mirth at his awed expression.  “Did you want to meet him?”

“What?  No! That’s… that would be weird, wanting to meet your girlfriend’s ex and his dad.  That’s just…”

“I didn’t mention his dad,” she cut him off knowingly.  “And… girlfriend?”  He gave her a sheepish look and looked down.  He opened his mouth to say something in response but she cut him off with laughter.  “So, that’s a yes then?”

“I mean… if you’re offering,” he tried to say casually.

“I see.  This whole thing was just an elaborate scam so you could meet Jagged Stone,” she pouted in mock offense.  She looked past him and smiled.

Jason rolled his eyes and he leaned onto the counter so he was just a few inches from her.  “You caught me.  I exposed my secret identity just so I could meet a rock star.”  Marinette’s eyes instantly widened and her body went rigid.

“Secret identity?” Adrien asked as he set down her coffee cup next to Marinette.

Jason froze.  “I… didn’t realize he was back.”

“You are shit at secret identities,” Marinette hissed to him.  “Even when you aren’t high you can’t keep one.”

“I…’m still under the effects?” he offered with a wince.  

“And you couldn’t have waited to come see me until it has dissipated?” she groaned.

“No, I couldn’t wait to see you,” he said instantly, looking deeply in her eyes.

“Oh… um… okay,” she stuttered.  Her cheeks flushed deeply.  “I… would have thought it would be gone by now,” she finished quietly.

“Nope.  Still lingering.”  He made a vague motion toward his body.

“Yeah, go with that when your brothers find out.” Marinette sighed.  “Why do they let you go undercover if you’re so bad at hiding your identity?” she asked a bit louder.

Jason’s eyes scrunched in confusion.

“Isn’t that like first day at the academy?” She continued.  She made a subtle rolling motion with her hands so only he could see it.

His eyes widened in realization.  “I think I missed that day.  Police training is pretty boring… and corrupt.”

Adrien scoffed and threw his arm over her shoulder. “Bullshit.  You just don’t want to lose the bet.  Also, backdoor, no bell.”

“Fucking backdoor,” Jason grumbled looking down and shaking his head.  He looked back up at Marinette with a raised eyebrow that she didn’t see because she was glaring at Adrien.  “Bet?”

“There is no bet,” Marinette rushed to assure him.

“That she’d date another hero,” Adrien explained, pointedly ignoring her glare.  “I’m Adrien by the way.  I’m her…” he stopped to think about his next words.  “We really need to come up with a term for it.  I’m her in no way sexual or romantic life partner?”

Marinette rolled her eyes.  “I thought we agreed on pseudo brother.”

“Right, right,” Adrien nodded.  “That puts me above Alya, so I like it.  But I still like mine better.”

“If I can interrupt,” Jason cut in, “Jason, nice to meet you.  And, another?”

“Also, he’s not a hero!” Marinette objected at the same time.

“How many heroes have you dated?  And she’s not wrong, I’m not a hero,” Jason added.

“Ooh, vigilante then.” Adrien nodded.  He started mentally running through all the vigilantes in Gotham.  “I think that counts, but you can always try that.”

“Let’s get back to the dating heroes thing,” Jason tried.

“But it won’t matter anyway, because nobody is going to find out about this,” her voice lowered and became very pointed.  “Right, Adrien?  Because we’re talking about someone else’s identity.  And it doesn’t matter because he isn’t a hero and the terms of the bet, which I didn’t agree to, I might add, were very specific: hero.”

“So how many heroes do you have to date for it to become a bet?” Jason asked.

“It’s more about how many heroes have had a crush on her,” Adrien answered with a smirk.  

Jason raised an eyebrow.  “How many have developed a crush on her?”

“Every hero that’s met her,” Adrien answered with a resolute nod.

“That’s not true!” Marinette exclaimed.

Jason nodded his head as he thought about that. “How many heroes is that? Approximately?” he asked Adrien, ignoring Marinette’s interruption.

“She’s met at least twenty-five.”  Marinette groaned at the glee in Adrien’s voice.

Jason’s eyes widened and turned to her. “Twenty-five?”  He turned back to Adrien.  “And they all liked her?”  

Adrien nodded with a smug smile.  “All of them.”

“No, they don’t,” Marinette insisted.

He blinked a few times.  “My brother met her.”

Marinette stared at him slack jawed until she collapsed her head onto the table.  “You SUCK at secret identities,” she mumbled into the table.  “Okay,” she announced loud enough to stop Jason and Adrien from continuing to talk.  “First,” she turned to Adrien, “that is categorically untrue.”

“You haven’t met twenty-five heroes?” Jason asked.

“Oh no, that’s a low estimate on how many I’ve met. But only like,” she narrowed her eyes and quirked her lips in thought, “three have liked me.”  

Adrien snickered.  “That’s not even close.  There was…”

“Second,” she said cutting him off, “your brother isn’t a hero,” she said pointedly.  “Third, he was a dick.”

“Literally,” Jason snickered.

Marinette smacked his shoulder and looked over at Adrien. “He was overly friendly, but not in a Rose way; in a smarmy, I’m going to manipulate you with my charm way.”

“That’s your opinion of him,” Jason pointed out. “Adrien said heroes get a crush on you so it sounds like I need to watch him around you.”

“Fourth,” she leaned closer to Jason with a hiss, “maybe you just shouldn’t talk.”

“I think we need to up the count too,” Adrien eyed Jason critically.  “Seems like we need to add a few new heroes to the total.”

Marinette stepped in between the two.  “And you won’t try to figure out any more about his identity, because that would be a violation, right Adrien?” she continued even sharper.

Adrien rolled his eyes but nodded.  “Yeah, yeah.  Whatever.  I’ll try but there’s only so many people in the hero adjacent community that fit his dimensions.”  

Marinette slapped him upside the head and he scowled back at her.  “Stop thinking,” she hissed.  “You’re a model it shouldn’t be that hard for you to do.”  Her smirk widened at his exaggerated offended gasp.

Adrien leaned back stared at her eyes slightly narrowed.  “Ex-model, thank you very much.  Which means I've been given a permit to think again.  And just for that, I'm going to.  Day and night.  I'm going to get out charts and diagrams, create association maps, cyberstalk people, all just because I can.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her head in her hands.  “I hate you. You can’t punish him as payback toward me.”

“You’re right,” Adrien nodded thoughtfully.  “I should make it up to Jason.  Say Jason, how many stories has she told you about our teenage years?  Has she told you about the first time we saw a movie together?  How about the first time we were at a sleepover together?”

Marinette’s eyes widened.   “Alright!” Marinette exclaimed loudly.  “I believe it’s time to get you out of here… before… uh… you say anything else embarrassing, Jason,” she insisted.  “Let’s go. Now.”  She pulled Jason out of the room by the elbow.  “You get to lock up Adrien.”

“Your coffee!” he called after her.  But she and Jason were already gone.  Adrien chuckled.  “Like I need to think to know who that is,” he scoffed taking a sip of his coffee and return to grading homework.

Jason waited a block before he spoke up.  “So… you want to tell me about the sleepover or do you want to let blondie tell me later?”

Marinette mock glared at him.  “Look, if we’re going to go over all of my embarrassing moments, we’ll never talk about anything else… ever… There’s a lot,” she stressed.

Jason chuckled and pulled her to a stop.  He picked up her hand and laced their fingers together.  He gently tucked some loose hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger along her jaw. “Is this okay?”

Marinette looked up at him wide eyed, but nodded, a deep blush gracing her cheeks again.  “Ye... um, yeah.  That’s… um, yeah, that’s okay.”

“So… history of dating heroes, huh?  Guess you weren’t that impressed with my skills last night then.”

Marinette groaned playfully.  “Okay, seriously, it was only the one and yes, you were very impressive.  The way you… were able to stand for a prolonged period of time after the amount of drugs that got pumped into your system… very impressive.”

Jason barked out a laugh.  “Why thank you.  I have lots of other impressive qualities I can astound you with.  How would you feel about a date so I can show them to you?”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that,” she grinned up at him swinging their arms between them.

“You know, I might not remember anything else about last night, but there was one thing I thought I remembered and I was definitely right about,” he took a step closer to her until their chests were almost touching and leaned down to gaze adoringly into her eyes, “you’re fucking hot.”

She let out a surprised snort, her face turning bright red and Jason smirked at her.  She buried her face in his chest to hide her blush.  Jason chuckled as he wound his arms around her waist and hugged her close. “Come on,” he whispered into her ear.  “I know a good place to get food right around the corner.”  She looked up at him and nodded, letting him pull her toward the restaurant.

Continued in Night of the Consequences

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver @ashbrea381writings

[luminnara]

God Damn, Shit Sucking Vampires | Poly lost boys x oc CH 9

(oops no gif because the ones i want won’t upload right now)

Just as a reminder, lost boys requests are OPEN!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Tags:  @americancowgirl19 @ilikechocolatemilkh

Warnings: Blood, gore, vampire things

Hearing a strange voice in her head nearly drove Vera into a panic. When she realized she was hearing Max, she nearly flew into a second panic, the sire’s strong, firm voice only reassuring her that all of her fears were correct and he wasn’t going to like her very much. 

As she walked along the beach, bare toes sinking into the sand, Dwayne at her side, Vera briefly wondered how hard it would be to kill Max if it came down to a struggle. Did she have a chance against him? Maybe, if she stooped low enough to cry for her own sire, he would come and take care of it—

“Hey, chill out,” Dwayne said, stopping and turning towards her slightly. “What’s wrong?”

She realized she had halted and was simply standing there, staring at nothing as her mind raced. He could probably feel how freaked out she was getting, and as she looked at him, she found a gentle, understanding expression on his face. 

“C’mere,” he said, his voice low and rumbly and comforting. 

He opened his arms in invitation and she dove right in, moving quickly and desperately enough that she knocked him right onto his ass. He landed in the sand with a laugh, situating the two of them so that she could sit in his lap and they could face the dark, never ending ocean. 

“Did Max freak you out?” Dwayne asked as Vera tucked her head under his chin. 

“...a little.” 

“Why?”

She sighed. Something about Dwayne made her feel so safe that she was actually considering talking with him about things she hadn’t even told David yet. “Because I’m not used to this. I’m used to vampires who want me out of their territory the second I even get close, and I can’t really blame them.”

“This is your territory, too.” He said. “You’re the one who’ll be kicking people out of it now.”

“I don’t think Max is going to like me.” She grumbled. 

“Why not?”

She was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Because he’ll see me as a threat.”

“Max isn’t like that.”

“You’re just saying that now because he’s your sire.”

“No, I’m saying it because I mean it.” Dwayne rested his cheek on the top of her head, his hand absentmindedly rubbing circles on her back. “Max wants a family. Now you’re part of that family.”

He sounded so sure of his own words that Vera was actually feeling inclined to believe him for a moment. “Parents don’t tend to like me.”

“Anyone who can handle having Paul in their pack can handle you.��

She scoffed. “He isn’t that bad.”

“Maybe to you.” Dwayne chuckled. He tightened his arms around her when he realized that his jokes weren’t very reassuring. “Max is a good man. A good sire.”

“Why?” Vera asked. “What does he do that makes you like him so much?”

“Well,” Dwayne situated them a bit better, getting more comfortable. “He’s fair. He acts stern, but...he sees himself as our father.”

“Don’t they always?” Vera grumbled. 

“He calls David his prodigal son, but he always wanted a whole family. He ended up with the four of us.”

“So, what? He plucked you all up out of the gutter and that makes him a good guy?”

“Why are you so determined to hate him?”

“I’m not!” she protested. “I’m just...wary.”

“Max gave us new lives.” Dwayne sighed. “He found us back in San Francisco after we got ourselves in some trouble with another vampire.”

Vera had to snort in amusement at that. “Seriously? Who’d you pick a fight with? Dracula?”

“Well…”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He flashed her a smile. “How were we supposed to know who he was?”

“Humans really have no self preservation instincts, do they?”

“Apparently not.” Dwayne chuckled, squeezing her. 

“How long ago was it?”

“1906, same year as that big earthquake. Tore the whole city apart...it was the perfect time for four vampires to start learning how to survive, with all that chaos. People were dead, more were missing...nobody noticed a few more disappearing here and there.”

“Is that why Max and, uh...Vlad were there?” Vera asked. 

“I imagine.” Dwayne shrugged. “We resisted at first. David was especially pissed off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Vera laughed quietly. 

“But...we took to the lifestyle pretty quickly.”

“And that’s that?” Vera asked. 

“That’s that.” he shrugged. “Max wants to be a father figure. He turned David because he wanted a son, and he taught him everything he knew. Then, he decided David needed companions, and he happened to find me not long after. Then the others. Max isn’t a bad guy, Vera. You’ll see.”

“That’s what everybody says about their own sire.” she said, looking out at the black waves as they crashed against the sand just a few feet in front of her. “Everyone wants to talk their sires up, because without them, we’re nothing. Just because your own sire is nice to you doesn’t mean he’ll be nice to me.”

“What’s so bad about your own that you think ours is so awful?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, Vera’s mouth pressing into a thin line. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me.” Dwayne opened his eyes, rubbing his cheek over the top of her head affectionately. 

“I’m not.”

“I know that you are, though.”

Vera let out a frustrated noise, then heaved a sigh. Maybe talking about this could be good for her. Maybe verbalizing thoughts and fears that she’d been living with for centuries could finally help her get over them...and if anyone was a good listener, it would be Dwayne. 

“Okay, fine.” she said. “What’s so bad about my sire? Everything. Everything is what’s bad about him, literally.”

“Where’s he from?” Dwayne asked. 

“The old country. Like...the old old country.”

“Why are you so reluctant to talk about him?” Dwayne’s voice was low and gentle, barely audible over the sound of the waves. 

“Because he’s got a reputation.” she fiddled with the hem of her shorts. “Most older vampires know of him. You guys might not, and if we had a different situation, I’d say it should stay that way.”

“That serious, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

“Hmm.” Dwayne’s chest rumbled. “The others should hear about this, too.”

“Yeah, they should.” she sighed again, her voice small. She felt small in general, all curled up in Dwayne’s lap like that. Small and helpless. She wasn’t, though, and she didn’t want them to think that she was. So she cleared her throat, trying to muster as much confidence as she could, ignoring the mild twisting in her gut. “I’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow night.”

Dwayne made a small, impatient sound. 

“Max will want to hear, too.”

“That’s a good point,” he admitted. “You know, I still need to hunt for you…”

Vera perked up slightly. The thought of food made the tight feeling in her chest loosen up slightly, and she looked at Dwayne eagerly. “Yes, please.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as he stood and set her back on her feet. “Then let’s go find some snacks, Princess.”

-0-

“You know, we don’t have to do this. We could just go back to the cave--”

“What happened to that tough attitude you had a few days ago?” David raised an eyebrow, looking amused as he pulled Vera off the back of his bike.

“I’m still tough,” she growled, knowing that he could very easily feel how nervous she was. 

“Come on, babe,” Paul parked his bike next to David’s and bounded over to her. “You’ll be fine.”

“We’d never let anything happen to ya,” Marko said, following Paul. 

Vera knew he was telling the truth, but it didn’t make her feel any better. She had barely slept the entire day, waking up restless and on edge as soon as the sun disappeared, and it had taken a good deal of coaxing from David to even get her to leave the roost. They took Star and Laddie to the boardwalk, dropped them off with some cash, and then headed off to Max’s house.

David told Vera along the way that Star and Laddie weren’t allowed to know where Max lived. They really weren’t allowed to know anything about him in general, in order to protect him, so when the pack walked up to the front gate of their sire’s home, it was only the four boys who accompanied Vera. She didn’t mind; having Star around would have only put her more on edge, probably, and she had been glad to leave the halfling behind. 

As she faced the gated bridge that led to Max’s completely normal-looking, Californian home, Vera did everything she could to act confident. She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, and pretended that she had nothing to worry about...but the boys could see right through the facade, and as they joined her, they all fell into a little formation. In moments, Vera was surrounded by them, David offering his arm while the others stepped into their spots behind. It made her feel better, knowing that they were all there to protect her...but at the same time, she still wished they were all out wandering the boardwalk. 

“So brave,” David sneered as she took his arm. 

“Shut up.” she growled, vaguely aware of Dwayne’s hand on her lower back. 

“Relax,” Marko purred. 

“Don’t you dare tell me to relax, Marko, I swear—“

The barking of a rapidly approaching dog interrupted her, the sound of paws thumping rhythmically against the wooden walkway drawing her attention away from the boys. A big white hellhound was barreling towards the gate, all teeth and rage, and although it looked like it wanted to tear her limbs off, the sight of such a beast made Vera temporarily forget why she was so anxious. Even as it barked and snarled and threw itself against the gate, she thought that it was absolutely adorable.

“Oh, look at you!” She squealed as the boys all jumped back. When she took a step forward, David tried to yank her towards him, but she slipped away easily, too focused on this hellhound to care. 

“You’re such a big handsome boy,” she said, in a voice that made Paul jealous. 

“No fair,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “Why’s the dumb dog get all that?”

Marko glanced at the taller blond nervously. “Don’t call him dumb, you remember what happened last time?”

Paul groaned, rolling his eyes at the memory of nearly losing a hand. 

The dog stopped barking as Vera approached, falling silent as it sniffed the air around her. The vicious look on its face was gone, replaced by curiosity, and when Vera ignored David’s irritated warnings and reached over the gate to pet it, the animal whined. 

“You must be Thorn,” Vera cooed, scratching behind its ears. “What a big, brave, hell-y hellhound you are, yes you are!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Paul said as he watched. 

“What?” Vera asked, looking over her shoulder at him. 

“Thorn doesn’t like any of us.” Marko huffed. “Why’s he like you so much?”

“Well...he can probably smell my sire on me,” Vera said. “Might remind him of home. Hellhounds usually like me because of that.”

“...Home?” Paul asked. 

“I’ll tell you later.”

“But I wanna know now!” he whined.

Thorn growled at him. 

“Thorn!” a male voice called from the other end of the little bridge. 

Vera immediately stiffened. The front door of the house had opened, and in it stood a man, wearing a very stylish suit and horn rimmed glasses. Thorn heeded his master’s call, giving Paul one last woof before trotting back towards Max. His departure freed the front gate, and David brushed past Vera to open it, taking her hand and leading the gang across the walkway. 

“Boys,” Max greeted as they approached him. He offered David a stern smile, one which David didn’t return, and when Max’s eyes fell upon Vera all tucked up against his side, his eyes narrowed slightly. “And you must be Vera.”

She didn’t like that he knew her name. It was inevitable that he’d find out what it was, but still...she kept clinging to the hope that maybe, he wouldn’t learn too much about her. The boys seemed so convinced that Max was just an annoying father, but as Vera took him in, she could see that behind the trendy, 80s-dad facade, there was an old, powerful vampire, and those were the kind she didn’t get along with very well. 

“Well, come in, everyone, before dinner gets cold. I made sure to get all your favorites, boys.” Max stepped to the side, inviting them over the threshold in a very courteous way, one that suggested he had nothing to fear from the boys or Vera.

“You shouldn’t have,” David sneered sarcastically as he walked in. 

“Would it kill you to be nice?” Vera hissed. 

He rolled his eyes.

Max noticed the exchange with a bemused expression on his face. “Go on in and sit down. The table’s already set.”

The house was nice. It wasn’t incredibly extravagant, by any means, but it was perfectly well decorated, modern art that Vera didn’t quite know how to appreciate hanging on the walls. Everything was clean and organized, not a speck of dust in sight, as opposed to the state of decay the boys kept their lair in. Max seemed to enjoy playing the role of a video store owner, and his home reflected that; if anyone came to visit, they wouldn’t see a single item out of place, nor would they have any reason to be suspicious of him. There were no torture devices, no loose vials of blood sitting around, no skulls or human skin nailed up. It looked so...normal. 

Vera almost stopped to wonder why exactly she was so nervous...and then she heard the whimpering.

“Geez, Max,” Paul remarked as they rounded the corner and entered the dining room, “you really shouldn’t have.”

“Well, fresh caught is always the best,” Max said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Hell yeah,” Marko growled, lips pulled back in a grin. 

The dining room table was covered in an array of meats, from a suckling pig in the center to a rack of ribs at the end. Six chairs surrounded the feast, plates and cutlery set out at each spot, with big glass goblets already half full of blood ready and waiting. Next to each chair stood a human, frozen due to both fear and Max’s vampire magic, a couple of them shaking and considerably more conscious than the others. 

Max walked to his place at the head of the table, Thorn at his side as he took his seat. David sat at the far end, facing him, his eyes dark and hungry as he held himself back. Dwayne sat at David’s left side, Vera at his right, while Paul and Marko took the remaining two chairs and tried not to completely lose their minds. They were shaking almost as much as the humans were, Paul looking at his blood donor eagerly while Marko held a little sneer on his face that suggested he was about ten seconds from ripping his apart.

“Dig in, everyone,” Max said, taking his cloth napkin and tucking it into his shirt collar. “But please try not to make a mess. There’s more than enough here for each of you.”

David immediately grabbed the arm of his meal, sinking his fangs in and taking a drink while Max preferred to drain his into the goblet he had set out for himself. Vera could only watch, stunned, as the carnage began, and before long, she was joining in. The human Max had caught for her was a middle aged clergyman, and she had to tear through his holy sleeve to get to his flesh. 

She didn’t mind, though; she very rarely ever got to eat members of the clergy. They were generally too much work to hunt down, and since she had an aversion to churches, well...like most vampires, she tended to leave them alone. It was hard to nab them without making a spectacle and letting the entire town know that something was amiss. So, all things considered, a little bit of extra work involving a mouthful of fabric was worth it. This was like a special treat for her, and she couldn’t help but drain him all in one go, still holding on even after he had collapsed in a bloodless heap on the floor. 

When she looked up, she realized that Max was watching her. 

“So,” he said, speaking over the hellish sounds of the others slurping up their meals, “I believe some congratulations are in order. Welcome to the family, Vera.”

She swallowed her last mouthful of blood and looked at him. “Uh...thanks. I-I mean, thank you.”

Max picked up his silverware, cutting a slice of ham for himself. “Where are you from, Vera?”

“I wander,” she said, following suit and stabbing her fork into a raw steak. 

“I’ve surmised that much,” Max chuckled good-naturedly. “I meant where are you from originally.”

“...oh.” She cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Italy.”

“Italy!” Max exclaimed. “Such a lovely region. I haven’t visited The Mediterranean since I left the old country myself. If I didn’t have the shop here, perhaps I’d take a trip...have you been back recently?”

“No,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to act like she wasn’t fidgeting. She took a bite of her steak, focusing on the blood as it trickled down her throat. 

Max reached for his goblet, raising the blood to his lips and taking a drink. “And your sire, is he still in Europe?”

Vera almost choked on her food. 

By this point, the boys were all watching. Paul was licking blood off his lips while Marko still had his dinner’s forearm in his mouth, but David and Dwayne were both focused solely on the conversation at hand, their eyes narrowed slightly as they listened. 

When she realized that everyone was waiting, Vera coughed into her fist, clearing her throat. “Y-yes, he is.”

Max’s eyes darkened, despite the smile on his face. “You know you need to tell me about him, Vera.”

“There’s not much to tell,” she lied, turning back to her steak. “Just an ancient vampire, out there in the old country. Not very exciting.”

“Exciting or not, I’d still prefer to know who he is.” Max said. 

She shrugged, reaching for her glass to take a nervous drink. “I doubt you’d know him.”

“When you drink that blood, you’ll be joining our family.”

She froze, hand on the stem of the glass.

“I’m sure your sire will be able to feel it. I’d hate to be rude and not even know his name in the event he visits one day.”

Vera stared at the blood—Max’s blood—as her fingers tightened around the stem. “You don’t want him to visit.”

“Oh?” Max asked, appearing as relaxed as ever. “Why not?”

“Because of who he is.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “And what he can do.”

Dwayne and David glanced at each other. 

When Max spoke again, his voice was softer, gentler than before. “What is your sire’s name, Vera?”

With a great deal of effort, she opened her eyes again, still staring into the blood rather than at any of them. 

“Asmodeus.” She said. “My sire is Asmodeus.”

[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Ch. 4

AO3

Prev

When Bruce asked Marinette to stay the night at the manor for a couple days while he went out of town for work, she was a little nervous. Sure, they’d been dating for almost four months, and yes she’d met Jason and Dick before, but this was the first time she’d be spending time with just Jason. Without Bruce there to mediate. But so far, it’d been fine. They’d gotten closer over the past two months, and Jason was actually a sweet kid. Standing in front of Gotham Academy, Marinette frowns at the sky, willing the rain to stay away. The bell rings and she shifts, nodding at the kids who waved at her, probably recognizing her from the cafe. She shifts to the balls of her feet, trying to see if she can spot Jason in the crowd of kids. Spotting him, she waves excitedly, grinning widely. 

“You’re so embarrassing.” He says, walking up to her and shaking his head. But the grin on his face definitely contradicts that. 

“I’m just excited to get ice cream.” She teases, nudging him gently. Even though he was only twelve (and much shorter than Dick and Bruce), they were close to the same height. Damn her Maman’s shortness. As they walk to the ice cream stand near her favorite park, Marinette listens to Jason explaining his day, frowning as she realizes: he’s being bullied. 

“But it doesn’t really matter.” He adds after telling her about the boys picking on him. Her eyes narrow. 

“Bruce didn’t tell you that, right?” She asks. He shakes his head. “Good, I thought I was going to have to add him to my list.” 

“What list?” Jason asks, frowning. 

“The list of people whose asses I have to kick.” She says, smirking at Jason’s surprised laugh. 

“Mari, you can’t- you can’t just beat up my bullies.” He says, laughing. 

“And why not? I’m short. I’ll say I go to public school. What’re they going to do, call my parents?” She snarks, working hard to keep a straight face. As Jason continues laughing, though, she finds it impossible to keep a straight face and instead joins him. “Seriously though, sweetheart, if these kids are bothering you, I can go up to the school. No one should be treated like that, and if you’ll let me, I’d love to give the principal a piece of my mind for letting it happen.” She adds. Jason sighs. 

“They won’t listen to you. Those kids’ parents have money and shit. I’m nothing to them.” He grumbles and she stops, turning him to look at her. How could this sweet little boy, someone who meant the world to her, say that he’s nothing. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me. You are not nothing. The amount of money a person has doesn’t mean a damn thing. How you treat others, what you choose to do, who you are as a person, that is what matters. That’s what makes you so much better, so much more than those little pricks at your school.” Marinette rambles, looking right into his eyes, desperately hoping he believes her. He’s silent for a minute, before he lunges forward and wraps his arms around her. Marinette sighs, wrapping the boy up in a big hug, kissing the top of his head. They stand there for a few moments before Jason pulls back, quickly wiping at his eyes. 

“Yeah, uh, if you really wanna go up there I guess you can.” He says, clearing his throat. Marinette smiles, ruffling his hair. 

“As long as it’s okay with you. Wouldn’t wanna embarrass you.” She says and he snorts. 

“I don’t think anyone could be more embarrassing than when B signed me up for school and he was acting like Brucie.” He says and she sighs. She’d heard all about ‘Brucie’ and though he’d never acted like that around her, he definitely still acted like that in public. But without the excessive flirting with models. Finally arriving at the small ice cream cart, Marinette and Jason each get a cone before starting their walk around the park. It’d become something of a tradition when she picked him up from school. She couldn’t always do it, because of the cafe, but that just made it that much more special. They’re halfway down their favorite path when her luck runs out and the rain that had been holding off for a day and a half comes down with a fury. It wasn’t warm rain either. No, the rain was ice cold and chilled her to the bone almost immediately. Gasping, she grabs Jason’s hand and tugs him under a pavilion to try and get some shelter from the rain.

“God, I’m so sorry Jay. I didn’t realize- it looked like it was gonna rain for days.” She says mournfully, teeth chattering as she digs her phone out of her purse, praying that it’s not soaked too. Alfred would definitely come pick them up if she asked. 

“It’s fine M, it’s just rain, it’s not like it’s gonna kill us.” 

---

Bruce walks into the manor, frowning when he doesn’t see Marinette. He’d expected her to still be around, even though Jason was definitely at school. He sighs, guessing that she’d had to leave to deal with something at the cafe. He shuts the door, and is about to go to his study when Alfred appears. 

“Ah, Master Bruce. Your turn.” He says simply and Bruce frowns. 

“Sorry, what?” He asks. 

“Miss Marinette, sir. I’ve tried to help her, but she is extremely stubborn. Thus, your turn.” Alfred says before walking away. Bruce frowns. What happened while he was gone? 

---

“M’fine.” Jason mumbles, swatting her hand away as she tries to feel his head. 

“C’mon Jay, just lemme check. If you have a fever you need more medicine.” She says, sighing in relief when he stops struggling and lets her feel his head. She hums, sitting back in the chair by his bed. “Do you need soup? Or maybe some cocoa?” She asks. 

“No. Just sleep.” He mumbles. Marinette nods in understanding, singing to him quietly despite the tickle in her throat. The poor kid was sick, and she blamed herself for letting them get caught up in the rain yesterday. Just as he falls asleep and she feels her own eyes droop, the door swings open. 

“Mari?” A voice says and she groans, waving whoever it is away. 

“Shhhh. He’s sleeping. Gimme a minute.” She mumbles, glancing at Jason once more before standing and moving outside the room, shutting the door slightly to not wake him up. 

“What happened? Why isn’t he in school?” Bruce asks, his face scrunched in concern. She frowns, knowing he’s probably going to hate her for letting his youngest son get sick. 

“We went for ice cream yesterday and then to the park, but it started raining and we got soaked and now he’s sick and I’m so sorry, but I’ve been giving him medicine and making sure he’s eating and drinking water so he’ll be okay but he definitely couldn’t go to school today.” She rambles. Bruce frowns and reaches forward, putting a gentle hand on her forehead. 

“Mari, love, are you sick too?” He asks worriedly. She scoffs. 

“No, of course not.” She says. 

“Yes she is.” Alfred says as he walks by, continuing down the hall as if he didn’t say anything. Marinette frowns, glaring after the man. 

“Traitor.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Love, maybe you should take some medicine and go to bed.” Bruce suggests, but she shakes her head. 

“No, Jason needs me. He’s sick.” Marinette argues. Bruce frowns. 

“Have you at least taken some medicine?” He asks, and she pouts. 

“It makes me sleepy. I was afraid I’d fall asleep and not know if Jason needed something.” She says, and he sighs. 

“Mari, my love, you aren’t going to get better if you don’t take medicine.” Bruce says, gently wrapping his arms around her. She sighs and leans into his embrace, feeling safe and complete in his arms. Until she hears Jason start having a coughing fit. She immediately pulls away from Bruce and rushes back into the room, grabbing the glass of water off of his night table and holding it, waiting for him to stop coughing before she passes it to him. 

“Careful kiddo.” She says, setting the glass back down on the night table. She sits on the edge of his bed and gently pushes his hair out of his face. He sighs, his eyes shutting again almost immediately. 

“Thanks Mom.” He mumbles sleepily, and soon his soft breathing is the only sound in the room. Marinette is frozen. Mom. Mom. He’d called her mom. Was it just because he’s sick and exhausted? Or did he actually look at her as a mother figure? Was he going to be embarrassed about it when he wakes up or will he accept it? Would Bruce be okay with it? Or would he be angry at her for it? Would he-

“Marinette, honey, are you okay?” Bruce asks softly, she kisses Jason’s head before standing and burrowing herself into Bruce’s chest. Realistically, there was no reason for him to be mad at her about this. Or Jason. It was just hard to combat her thoughts sometimes. Letting out a shaky breath, she looks up at Bruce with a soft smile. 

“I’m fine. I think I’ll take that medicine now.” She says, letting out a happy sigh as Bruce holds her hand and leads her out of the room. 

“Besides the rain, how was your week?” He asks once they’re back in the hallway. She opens her mouth to ramble about how fun it was, until she remembers Jason’s scowl as he talked about the group of boys at school. The way he clung to her when she promised to do something about it. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d be against talking to the Principal at Jason’s school. If I could, I’d like to go with. Some boys are picking on him and I promised him I would try to do something about it.” She explains, nearly missing the loving smile Bruce gives her. 

“I’ll set up a meeting for Monday afternoon, how does that sound?” He asks and she nods. 

“That should work.” She says, tilting her head in thought. “If it doesn’t work, I’m going to kick his ass.” She adds. 

“Okay, love, let’s get you that medicine and get you into bed.” Bruce says with a chuckle. Mari smiles and nods, knowing he thinks she’s kidding. She’s not. No one messes with her kid and gets away with it.

Next

Tag list:  @maribat-october-rarepairs @stainedglassm @kittenmywaythrulife @laydeekrayzee @doll246 @queenz-z @deathssilentapproach-blog @literaryhiraeth @unoriginalmess @ashbrea381writings @jayjayspixiepop @toodaloo-kangaroo @galla02006

[timelesslords]

have my back, yeah, every day

Annabeth realizes that Percy started sleeping on his back, and she’s determined to know why.

or, a one shot based on this post 

Read on AO3

Annabeth had spent a surprising amount of her life watching Percy Jackson sleep. 

Not in a weird way. It wasn’t like she’d been sneaking into his cabin at night— at least, she hadn’t been before they started dating a month ago. It was just that the life of a demigod was inherently transient, and they’d spent a lot of time questing with each other, and questing meant sleeping in shifts. 

And sure, one could argue that the purpose of shift-sleeping was to watch out for threats, not watch your questing companions sleep. But in the absence of imposing threats it wasn’t like there was a lot else to do besides watch your friends sleep. And maybe Annabeth had focused on watching one friend in particular, so much so that she had picked up on a lot of his sleeping habits.

In the past month since they'd started dating, she'd only honed those observations to their minutiae: she could tell from the twitch of his fingers whether the dream he was having was good or bad. She could tell from his breathing whether he was in a deep sleep or a shallow one. She knew he ran hot and only slept with a sheet, if anything at all. 

So that was why Annabeth found it odd that Percy had suddenly shifted from being an adamant side-and-stomach sleeper to always, always, sleeping on his back.

Admittedly, she’d probably spent more time in the past two weeks watching Percy sleep than she had every other time combined, so her sample size had grown, which could somewhat account for the shift from stomach to back. Except that it wasn’t an occasional switch, something she could have caught onto earlier. It was every single time.

Every random nap (which he took a lot of, these days). Every time she snuck into his cabin at night and he fell asleep before her. Everytime she fell asleep first and woke up before him. Even right now, both of them on his bunk together, his head in her lap-- despite the fact that there was a perfectly good pillow not two feet away. On his back. Always.

Annabeth really wasn’t supposed to be here at all, but Percy spent a lot of time asleep lately, and she didn’t mind bending the rules to spend more time with him. Summer was starting to wind down, and that meant her time with him was starting to dwindle as well. She wanted to spend every possible minute they could together, even if it meant all she was doing was watching him sleep. And okay, maybe they’d spent some time making out before Percy’s nap, but still. He wasn’t asleep yet, but he was getting close. 

He looked so peaceful and relaxed Annabeth almost just kept her mouth shut altogether. But they’d both be going home in a few days, and she knew this was going to drive her crazy until she sucked it up and asked him about it.

"You never used to sleep on your back," Annabeth said, finally unable to take it anymore. 

Percy’s eyes fluttered open sleepily. Annabeth immediately felt a little guilty for depriving him of his nap, but he didn’t seem upset, just confused. 

“Huh?” he yawned. 

“You always used to sleep on your side. Or your stomach. And now you never do,” Annabeth said. She watched as recognition flitted across his features, but he still hesitated before answering. 

"Oh, yeah,” he said, unhelpfully. But Annabeth could tell that her instincts were right, and this was something going on, not just her being a crazy person who spent way too much time memorizing her boyfriend’s sleeping habits. 

Maybe she should leave it alone. He clearly didn’t seem all that excited to talk about it. But she’d already brought it up, and it was clearly bothering him, and well-- Annabeth was curious. 

“Why?” she asked. 

This time he glanced away, his eyes finding the ceiling instead of meeting her gaze. 

I guess after… everything, it just sort of felt exposed," he said, slowly. 

It took Annabeth a second to realize what he meant by "everything." There was the obvious answer, the one that went along with “exposed,” the one that frankly, she was already kicking herself for not guessing from the start. His Achilles spot was on his back, so no fucking wonder he didn’t want to sleep back to the world anymore. 

Annabeth could tell by the tone of his voice that it was more than that, just slightly. But she couldn’t even begin to parse out what that meant without acknowledging the obvious.

“Oh. Gods, I’m dumb,” she groaned, covering her face with one hand. 

He laughed, his shoulders shaking against her legs just slightly.

“You’re not dumb,” he said. His voice was affectionate, but she could tell his nerves about the whole thing hadn’t completely melted away. His finger had started tapping against the bedspread beside him, a nervous, unconscious gesture.  

“Yeah, but I should have…” 

Annabeth trailed off. She should have known. It was obvious. She was the only one who could have possibly known, because she was the only one who knew where his spot was, the only one he’d ever trusted with that information. And she hadn’t realized.

“What? Known?” Percy finished for her, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, shouldn’t I have?” Annabeth asked, peering down at him through her fingers. 

Percy reached up, tugging on the hand that was still covering her face, pulling it away, down above his head, wrapped in his own. 

“Annabeth, I didn’t even know that you’d noticed I’d switched. It’s not a big deal.”

It had been so easy to forget about it all, the past month. Things had been normal, happy, better than normal, because now they were dating and the war was over and nobody was on the verge of predetermined death. And Annabeth had spent a month wondering why he’d stopped sleeping on his stomach and it hadn’t, not once, occurred to her why, even with the answer staring at her right in the face. She just hadn’t wanted to look. 

If she was honest, the curse scared her. Sure, it provided protection in a more general sense. He was never going to get a cut or a scrape or a burn from the lava wall. But it made everything so tenuous-- all of him was tethered to life through one tiny spot on his back. It could all fall away so easily, and Annabeth had been pushing that thought out of her mind for the entire past month. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

Annabeth glanced back down at Percy, jolted back to reality by his voice. He was frowning, little worried lines etched between his brows. 

“The curse isn’t the only reason,” Annabeth said, ignoring his question, “I mean it is, but-- there’s more.”  

He grimaced a little, but didn’t drop his eyes this time. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, trying to cover up his frown with a smile, squeezing her hand. 

But then his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly to her shoulder—where, under the fabric of her t-shirt, there was still a thick white scar from a poisoned knife that wasn't meant for her at all— and Annabeth suddenly understood everything. 

Percy could say what he wanted about the strategic placement of his Achilles heel; that it was small and hard to hit with armor on and all those other things. But Annabeth knew why he’d put it on his back maybe even better than he did. It was the same reason he’d always slept on his stomach, at least until now. Because even after everything he’d been through, all the fights he’d survived and all the betrayals he’d suffered, he was still a little too damn trusting. 

He’d put his weak spot on his back because there was some part of him, however small, that still believed people were good and decent and would face you head on, the same way he would. That they wouldn’t attack you when your back was turned, because even if it would give him the advantage, Percy would never win a fight that way. He’d banked on his own instinct, because that goodness was so built into his worldview he probably hadn’t even realized he’d done it.  

Obviously that hadn’t quite worked out, and Annabeth had almost died taking the knife that was literally and figuratively meant to stab him in the back. And Annabeth knew that that was what he meant by “everything,” not just the curse itself. 

Percy was still looking up at her, patiently waiting for her to be finished thinking, completely oblivious to her realizations. Annabeth bit her lip. She couldn’t tell him all that. For one, it was the opposite of “not worrying,” and for another she didn’t want him to worry about her. 

And she didn’t want him to be scared anymore. She wanted him to bear his back to the world as freely as he had before, because the thought of losing that part of him was painful in a way she didn’t even know how to describe. 

“Get up,” she said, nudging his head with her knee. 

“Why? Ow—” Another nudge and Percy was sitting up next to her, rubbing his temple. As soon as he was up, Annabeth laid down, pressing her back to the wall of the cabin. 

“What are you doing?” Percy asked, his expression a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“Fixing it,” Annabeth said, patting the bed next to her, “Lie down.” 

Percy gave her a weird look, but followed her instructions, tentatively lowering himself onto the mattress next to her, back down. 

“On your side, dummy,” Annabeth said, poking him in the ribs for emphasis. 

Percy frowned, suddenly realizing what she was trying to do.

“But your—”

Annabeth didn’t even need him to finish his sentence to know that he was protesting the fact that her back would be uncovered this way, nevermind the fact(s) that a) the chances of them being attacked at camp in his cabin were slim to none and b) Annabeth was not the one with her lifeline attached to one very specific exposed spot on her body. 

“Wall,” Annabeth reminded him, kicking the cabin wall behind her with one foot, just to remind him that it was there. 

Percy sighed, but was either out of protests or too tired to use them. He rolled over tentatively, his back pressed against her front. Annabeth curled into him, wrapping her arm around his chest, tucking her chin into the crook of his neck.

She could feel him relax under her, something tense in his limbs melting away, his breath slowing and evening out. 

“Better?” she asked, quietly, suddenly a little self-conscious. 

“Better,” he agreed, finding her hand and squeezing it again, “Thank you.” 

Annabeth smiled into his neck, lacing her fingers more securely through his. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, snuggling a little closer to him. 

They spent a quiet few minutes like that before either of them spoke again. Annabeth would almost think Percy had fallen asleep, except that he was rubbing little circles into her palm with his thumb. 

“I could get used to this,” he admitted. 

Annabeth’s chest felt warm, and she didn’t think it was from Percy’s body heat. He was trying to sound casual, but Annabeth could tell he meant it. 

“Yeah?” she asked, softly. 

She could hear the smile in his reply, even if she couldn’t see it. 

“Yeah. If you don’t mind.” 

It was Annabeth’s turn to smile, then. 

“I’m always gonna have your back, Seaweed Brain. You’re going to have to get used to it.” 

[intheticklecloset]

Say Mercy (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

Summary: When Deku bets Shinsou that he can win in a tickle fight against him, Shinsou takes him up on the offer to find out.

A/N: YES YES YES!! This isn't officially ShinDeku but it's those two boys tickling each other and I liiiiive for this! I was so excited to finally write for them again! Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 2,302

~~~

“Oh, give me a break,” Shinsou groaned, letting out a defeated sigh. His character spun off the track and had to be rescued, costing him precious seconds as Kaminari’s character whizzed by him into third place. “Dang it, I was actually doing well that time.”

Kami smirked, eyes glued to the screen. “Sorry, bro. Peach waits for no man!”

“She waits for Mario,” Deku pointed out.

“Details.”

The three of them were seated in the living room, having claimed the TV for the night in 1-A’s dorms. Deku was finally getting his wish to become better friends with the purple-haired boy. He’d been elated when his phone had buzzed with a text from him asking if he wanted to join in on some Mario Kart, and he nearly broke another bone in his haste to get to the living room. Kami had seemed concerned, but Shinsou looked amused.

Now they were on their final race in a four-race grand prix, and Kaminari was dominating them both. Deku was content to hang out in fourth and fifth place, but he did feel bad for Shinsou, who had gradually gotten better with each new track until he’d finally claimed third for the first two laps of the last race, only to be thwarted with a red shell.

Kami crossed the line in second, with Shinsou in fourth and Deku in seventh. The electric hero pumped his fists in the air. “Yeah, baby! Gold trophy!”

Deku and Shinsou exchanged amused glances.

“Just wait, Kaminari,” Deku said, grinning. “One of these days Shinsou is going to catch up to you and then you’ll be eating those words. And his dust.”

“Sure, sure.” Kami waved his hand, unbothered. “But I’m going to enjoy the moment while it lasts. I always lose against Bakugou; you gotta let me have this, Midoriya.” Just then his phone buzzed, and he let out a groan of his own. “Ah, crap. Speaking of Bakugou, I promised him and the others I’d study with them tonight. Stupid math, anyway.” He got to his feet and waved, heading out of the living room. “Night, guys. Have fun fighting for last place.”

“Rude!” Deku laughed, waving him out. “Go on. See you tomorrow.”

Then – for the first time – it was just Shinsou and Deku.

“Um,” Shinsou started, “perhaps I should head out, too. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“What? No! You’re more than welcome,” Deku said hurriedly, worried he wouldn’t get the opportunity to talk with his newest friend one-on-one. “Want to do another grand prix? We can knock it down from that 200cc insanity to something more manageable. I’m sure you can get first place if it’s a little easier.”

“With a handicap, you mean.”

“No!” Crap, think about your words, Deku! “No, I just mean that it might be smarter to start with something a little easier, that way you can work your way up. You can beat him on 200cc eventually, I just thought—”

“Midoriya,” Shinsou said, stopping his rambling with a smile. “I was kidding. Relax.”

“Oh. R-Right. Sorry.”

Shinsou chuckled, picking up his controller. “Let’s try 100cc. That way I’m not starting from the complete bottom of the Mario Kart ladder.”

“You know, you might be really good at Sonic racing instead,” Deku suggested, swapping out his player three controller for the player one controller Kami had left behind. “It’s a little more involved, but it’s also technique based more than just random luck. I think you’d be great at it.”

“Sonic has a racing game?”

“Well, yeah. It’s Sonic.”

“I suppose that’s a good point.”

From there the two of them settled into conversation with ease, discussing everything from video games to schoolwork to Shinsou’s latest run-in with Bakugou.

“I can’t believe Kacchan agreed to owe you a favor. He hates owing favors.”

“I got the sense that he was desperate, even if he wasn’t saying as much. It’s satisfying, honestly. I wasn’t going to tell anyone anyway, but it feels good to put that hothead in his place.”

Deku’s lips twitched in a small smile. “The only time I’ve ever really been able to ‘put him in his place’ is when we have tickle fights.”

“You have tickle fights with that maniac?”

“He’s my oldest friend, so it kind of comes with the territory. But it’s fun, too. I like it.”

Shinsou paused for a moment, not reacting at all to the fact that his character once again got knocked from first to fourth with a blue shell. “Sorry. I should be more sensitive. I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

“Well…” Deku sighed. “We’re not good friends, really. But we’re not enemies either. It’s kind of weird.” He did his best to explain his current standing with Bakugou.

“I see.” Shinsou nodded. “Well, even so, I’ll try to be more delicate in the future. Despite my grievances, I know he does have friends in these dorms, as do I.”

Deku smiled at him, taking his eyes from the screen for a moment to observe his profile. “So you’re making friends after all, Mr. I’m-not-here-to-make-friends?”

“I wasn’t lying.” Shinsou smirked. “But you are nothing if not persistent individuals. You and Kaminari, especially. But…I’m grateful. It feels good to have people actually want to hang out with me.”

Deku went silent for a moment. He could only imagine the kind of social isolation Shinsou went through because of his quirk. He thought back to their fight at the sports festival. How genuinely angry and upset Shinsou had been. He wished he knew what to say, but before he could formulate a response, the boy from 1-C was changing the subject.

“So you and Bakugou have tickle fights, eh? Who wins those?”

“Um…m-mostly Kacchan.”

“I wonder why.”

Deku eyed him again. “Are you saying you don’t think I can win them?”

“Not against him, certainly.”

“I’ve won before! Once or twice…”

“How many times has he won?”

“Look, the number’s not important. What’s important is that we have fun.”

Shinsou laughed, and it was such a surprise the sound actually startled Deku for a moment. “I suppose that’s all that matters, right?”

Feeling emboldened by the conversation and that laugh, Deku challenged, “I bet I could win a tickle fight against you.”

“Oh?” Shinsou crossed the finish line, then turned to look at Deku, who suddenly grew nervous as he waited to cross a few places behind. “Bold words, Midoriya.”

Having finished the race, Deku turned to look at him, suddenly feeling flustered. “I-I mean…since I’ve tickled you before, and I know where your worst spot is already. I just feel like I’d have an advantage…” He trailed off. He knew where Bakugou’s worst spot was, too, but that rarely helped him win those tickle fights.

“I suppose I have been curious how ticklish you actually are, since I’ve never seen it for myself. I’ve only heard stories. Do you seriously get tickled almost every day in this class?”

“U-Um…y-yeah, I do. But I don’t mind.”

Shinsou smirked. “Which means you like it.”

Deku could feel himself blushing now. “Yeah.”

“All right, Midoriya,” Shinsou said, shifting in such a way that the green-haired boy instinctively scrambled back, blushing even harder when his friend chuckled. “I want in. You think you can win a tickle fight against me? How much are you willing to wager?”

“Um…” Deku scrambled to think of something. “I-I don’t know…what do you want?”

“A thousand yen says I win.”

“Oh, yeah? W-Well…two thousand says I win!”

“You’re that confident? Very well. Quirks or no quirks?”

Deku froze. “N-No quirks. It’s not because I’m afraid of you, I just—”

“It’s okay, Midoriya. No quirks is actually advantageous for me, since mine doesn’t help me physically.” Shinsou smirked, pushing his controller aside. “Ready?”

“Y-Yeah. Ready.”

Deku barely had the words out before Shinsou was on him, shoving him to the floor with surprising speed and strength, wiggling his fingers into his sides.

“Eeep! Ahahahahahahaha, nohohohohohoho!” Deku giggled, trying to bat Shinsou’s hands away. “No fahahahahahahair! There wasn’t eheheheheheven a countdohohohown!”

“I asked if you were ready, and you said yes,” Shinsou replied calmly, grinning at the mess he’d made of 1-A’s most promising student, all with just a couple of light scribbles. “If you were lying, that’s your own fault.”

“G-Gehehehehehet off!” Deku squealed, reaching up to squeeze Shinsou’s ribs, pleased with the bright smile he got in response. He squeezed harder, willing himself to reach both hands up despite the continuing tickle attack on his own sides. “Get ohohohohohohoff!”

“N-No,” Shinsou grunted, obviously fighting back giggles of his own. He was tempted to reach for what he knew was a good spot, but decided against it for the moment. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now he wanted to get to know every weak spot he could. He darted his own fingers up to Deku’s ribs and vibrated. “Heh, h-how’s it feel, Midoriya?”

“Fihihihihihihihine!” Deku shoved his hands up under Shinsou’s arms in retaliation. The purple-haired boy retracted his hands to bring his arms in protectively, giving Deku the opening he needed to push him over and grab at every ticklish spot he could think of. Ribs, sides, belly. He went for them all in rapid succession. “W-What about you, Shinsou? A little ticklish, huh?”

“D-Don’t – you cahahahan’t act like y-yohohou don’t already knohohow!” Shinsou protested, curling up into the fetal position on the floor, chuckling into the carpet.

“Why? Does it fluster you when I do that?” Deku used the opportunity to grab at his friend’s knees and squeeze. Shinsou kicked his legs out so hard in response he almost took Deku out with them. “Whoa!”

“S-Sohohorry,” Shinsou giggled, batting at the hands that had returned to his sides.

“Bad spot?”

“Nohohot really. Just surprised mehehehehe.”

“You’re not really fighting back, you know~” Deku teased, amused by the realization. “Do you want to owe me two thousand yen?”

“Juhuhuhust indulging a lihihihihittle. Dohohohon’t worry…” Shinsou suddenly shot upright and dug into Deku’s underarms. “I’ll still win this tickle fight!”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Deku screeched, falling back onto the floor with laughter bursting from his lungs. “NOHOHOHOHOHO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

“Ooh~ Bad spot?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“No? You sure? You seem like you’re lying.” Shinsou grabbed one of Deku’s wrists and pinned it above his head, drilling deep into his underarm with his free hand.

Deku shrieked, tossing his head back and laughing unabashedly. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! SHIHIHIHIHIHIHINSOU!!” He desperately tried to grab at any ticklish spot he could with his other arm. He managed to succeed in scribbling against Shinsou’s side, causing the taller boy to choke out a giggle and unpin him so he could fight back.

Without really thinking about it, Deku sat up and grabbed his hips, digging in deep.

Shinsou burst into his own round of laughter, grasping at Deku’s wrists and trying to push him away while also desperately trying to keep from falling over again. “NONONO – NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHERE YOU CHEHEHEHEHEATER!!”

“Cheater? There was no rule against worst spots, Shinsou.” Deku grinned, feeling a rush of happy satisfaction at having made Shinsou laugh so freely without even needing to pin him down first. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

“SHUT UP!! DOHOHOHOHOHON’T TEHEHEHEASE ME, MIDORIYAHAHAHA!!” Shinsou flailed for a few moments more before grabbing Deku’s hips as well. “TAKE THIS!!”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Now Deku was laughing hysterically as well, trying to fight his attacker off while still keeping up his own tickling assault. “YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHERK!!”

“YOU STAHAHAHAHAHAHARTED IT!!”

It was a hilarious sight, the two of them tickling each other’s hips in the middle of the living room floor, Mario Kart long forgotten on the TV behind them, laughing loudly and desperately trying to push each other off. In the end, it came down to which of them was more ticklish, and soon the tides began to turn in Shinsou’s favor.

“HA!! CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T LAHAHAHAHAST FOREVER, CAN YOHOHOHOHOU, MIDORIYA?!”

“NOHOHOHOHOOOOO!!” Deku whined as he finally relented his own attack to focus on defense, grabbing Shinsou’s wrists and trying to push him away. “NO FAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR!!”

“I can’t help it if you’re just that ticklish,” Shinsou teased, still smiling uncontrollably as he finally managed to push Deku to the floor and straddle him, kneading into his hips deeply. “Much better. This is how I suspected this would end.”

Deku fought for a few more moments, then finally gave up and relented, kicking his legs wildly and holding onto Shinsou’s wrists weakly, feeling the muscles in his hands move as they tickled him, only making him more sensitive. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA FIHIHIHIHIHIHIHINE!! FINE YOU WIHIHIHIHIHIHIN!! I GIHIHIHIHIHIVE UP!!”

Shinsou smirked, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his friend’s desperate cries. “Say mercy.”

“MEHEHEHEHEHEHERCY!! MERCY, MERCYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!”

For a long moment, Shinsou kept up his assault, not saying a word, making Deku shriek with ticklish panic at the fleeting thought that maybe he wouldn’t stop after all. But then, finally, it was all over, and he could breathe again. He gulped in large doses of oxygen greedily, reaching up to wipe the corners of his eyes where mirthful tears had started to form.

“You okay?” Shinsou asked, chuckling a little at the sight.

Deku sputtered out some leftover giggles and sat up. “Y-Yeah. I’m good.”

“You owe me two thousand yen.”

“Jeez, you don’t waste any time, do you, Shin?”

Shin? The boy from 1-C smiled a little at the nickname. “Not if I can help it, no. Told you I’d take you down.”

“In a tickle fight, maybe,” Deku conceded, picking up his player one controller and brandishing it with a new kind of challenging spark in his eye. “But I bet you still can’t win gold even on 100cc!”

Shinsou laughed, grabbing his own controller and knocking it against Deku’s like they were doing a fist-bump. “You’re on.”

[fanficshiddles]

Tear You To Pieces, Chapter 7

Kelly was so nervous, no, terrified that she was going to get caught by Stark or one of the other team members.

What she was doing was breaking every single rule there was. Even though she was part of the security team and could simply say she was improving the system, there would be lots of questions. Why at this time of night when she should be sound asleep in bed? Why did she have the box that contained Loki’s powers? Why had she turned off all the security cameras and overridden Jarvis?

She tried to remain calm and stop her hands from shaking as she picked up the golden box. She had still been worried that it would burn her hands or maybe explode upon being picked up by a human, since it was from Asgard. But she was relieved when it just felt like a heavy golden box. Not that she had ever picked up a heavy golden box before…

After replacing all the security firewalls and making sure it looked like it had been untouched, she rushed back to the security room to turn the cameras back on and sort out a loop for the tapes. It was easy enough for her to do. Overriding Jarvis had been the difficult part, but she had managed from her own room with her own computers and equipment.

As she rushed back into her room to finish off, she nearly screamed because Loki was stood in the middle of her room, waiting for her. He couldn’t help himself from being eager. But she could understand that, really. He had a part of him taken away from him without consent. That couldn’t have been nice at all.

‘Loki! You scared me.’ She blushed hard, as usual when she saw him.

‘Sorry, darling. That was not my intention… I just merely wanted to check that you’re alright, and if you managed to get it.’ He said softly and reached out to give her upper arm a soft squeeze.

‘All good. I just need to release Jarvis… Here, I believe this is yours.’ She handed him the duffel bag she had with her. While she sorted Jarvis, Loki opened the bag and felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through him when he saw she had succeeded in getting him the box.

‘I can’t thank you enough, Kelly my dear. You’ve done so well for me, I am so proud of you for doing this. Your skills are truly impeccable.’ He moved towards her once she was finished and he embraced her, making her heart soar as she hugged into him.

‘You’re welcome, Loki. I’m glad I could help.’ She said with a big smile as she looked up at him.

He let go of her and leaned back, grinning from ear to ear down at her. ‘You have no idea how much you have helped me. I am forever grateful, pet. I shall never forget this.’

‘Really, it’s my pleasure. I’m just glad I’ve been able to help, I hate the thought of anything bad happening to you.’ She said, slightly flustered.

Loki cupped her cheek and pressed a kiss to her forehead. ‘Nothing bad is ever going to happen to me, pet. Or you. I give you my word.’ He whispered.

Loki went back to his own room not long after. Kelly assumed he was going to get his powers into him. She wasn’t even sure how that would work, she wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know anyway.

When she went to bed, she took a while to get to sleep. Her mind was racing. Did she do the right thing? What if she was found out? But she eventually calmed herself down, knowing Loki wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It wasn’t like he was going to use his powers for bad now, anyway. He wasn’t under Thanos’ control anymore. He had changed.

And she hoped that once the others saw that, even if they found out he had his full potential, it wouldn’t matter by then. As he’d have proved himself worthy of their trust from missions, especially the big one coming up.

-

The following morning, it was late morning and Kelly was a little nervous as she hadn’t seen Loki yet. He was usually an early riser, but there was no sign yet. No one else had noticed, or even cared.

Part of her was worried in-case he’d ran off. She wasn’t entirely sure what all of his powers were, exactly. What he was capable of. But she knew teleportation was one of them. Again, she wasn’t sure how strong and how far he could actually go. But it was at the back of her mind.

She instantly felt guilty for thinking such a thing when Loki came strolling into the kitchen.

But then she noticed he seemed a bit… off. He was wearing his full Asgardian armour, which was unusual unless he was off on a mission or training.

‘Morning, Loki. Is everything ok?’ She called over to him. Clint was also in the kitchen leaning on the counter, and Pepper was making a brew. But they paid no attention to Loki. As usual.

‘Everything is absolutely wonderful, my pet.’ Loki growled. His voice was darker, much darker than normal. It sent shivers down Kelly’s spine, and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was the good kind or not.

Clint and Pepper looked over at Loki then, noting the difference in his tone too.

‘What have you done, Loki?’ Clint asked warily.

‘Nothing…’ The wickedest, most evil grin spread across Loki’s face. ‘Yet.’

Kelly felt like time froze as Loki suddenly aimed the palm of his hand towards Jarvis’ camera in the corner of the kitchen and blasted it to pieces with his green energy.

‘LOKI?’ Kelly screeched at him, confused and scared.

Clint jumped up to his feet and Pepper was about to call Tony. But Loki used the same energy and blasted Pepper right through the wall. A few SHIELD agents that had been close by came running in, but Loki dealt with them easily.

‘What the hell, why does he have his powers?’ Clint shouted and made a move for his arrows that were on a chair a few feet away from him.

‘I’m sorry… He said he needed it for the big mission, that he was worried.’ Kelly blurted out quickly, eyes wide as she watched Clint scramble for his arrows and bow.

Clint grabbed his bow and began pulling out an arrow, he glanced at Kelly, frowning. ‘Mission? What miss’ before he could even take aim at Loki, he was taken out too by Loki. With terrifying ease.

Kelly let out a scream and she ran in a blind panic towards the door. But a strong arm slipped around her middle and stopped her, lifting her off the ground and into his body. She kicked and screamed, trying to get him to let go.

‘Now now, pet. No need to fear me, I will spare you, while I burn this place to the ground.’ He growled into her ear.

Before Kelly could apprehend what was happening, Loki put a spell over her and transported her elsewhere. Her vision went hazy and all she remembered seeing last was Tony in his suit flying into the kitchen, using his blasters on Loki.

-

When Kelly came round, she was confused as to where she was at first. But as she sat up and blinked a few times, she realised she was in a library. She recognised it.

Running towards the door, stumbling a bit on the way, she burst outside and looked up and down the street. People were running around and screaming in panic. She looked up the road and towering over the buildings of the city she could see the Avengers tower. There were huge explosions coming from it, a big fire and gaping holes. It was getting utterly destroyed.  

‘What have I done?’ She sobbed, putting her hand over her mouth.

But she knew this wasn’t the time to be scared or to cry. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and started running up the road towards the tower, while other people were running away from it.

She needed to try and reach Loki, try and talk sense into him before he killed anyone else. She could only hope and pray that she wouldn’t be too late.

But Loki wasn’t under Thanos’ control this time. There was no hope of acceptance from his father or brother, he didn’t want to be equal to anyone anymore. He had no leash, he was his own master. In control of his own destiny.

And he was going to make sure he got what he wanted.

[honeydew-mel0n]

Can I request Vergil chaperoning his daughter at her prom dance? Thank you! 🙏🏼

So, remember what I said about writing a semi-soft Dadgil? I got really excited to write Dadgil (that isn't the fucking dadV sequel) and this concept is so funny to me but,,,,,, this was a little difficult. I don't actually know anything about dads, or prom.

But!!!!! Thanks for the request!

Dad!Vergil × Daughter! Reader (chaperoneing her junior/senior prom)

Last Dance of the Night

“Are you sure you can’t do it?”

You whisper into the mouthpiece of the phone, shooting glances up the stairs, being able to catch a glimpse of your father straightening himself up in the hallway mirror. “No can do, I know it’s really important, and I'd love to be there but- Hey!” 

You jolt back at the sound of your brother's voice through the phone, once again looking up the stairs to check if he heard the loud squabbling coming through the phone. He’s frozen in place, trying to assess something. Before pushing back his hair.

“Anyway, look Bug, I can't. I'm busy.” A sigh leaves your lips as your shoulders slump. “You’re useless.” “HEY-” 

You hang up, quickly dialing another number on the rotary. You listen to it dial, half expecting him not to pick up, but it clicks and there's a hefty sigh from the other end. “Devil May Cry.” “Hey, Uncle Dante. I, uh, need your help.” “What happened?”

You tap your foot on the carpet. “Sooooo, prom being tonight, I checked the list of parent chaperones who signed up. And…. Dad's name was there.” There’s silence on the other end for a good minute before a roar of laughter. “Please, you could show up for him, and don’t even have to stay. Sign in, then sneak out the back door. They’ll see that you’ve already signed in and won’t let him in.” 

As the laughter continues on and your hope dies, why did you ever think you could rely on your family? The hair on the back of your neck shoots straight up. Oh no. You slam the phone down and turn on your heel. Trying your best to pull a smile that didn’t show how scared you are. 

“Hey dad.” His face is blank, there’s no sign of anger. “It’s getting late, shouldn’t you be on your way already?” You nod, swallowing hard and trying to find an excuse.

“Just made a quick call to Nero. Big day, he’s really excited for me. I really should get going though…” He just nods, wrapping a lace shawl around your shoulders. You drop the nervous smile and a real one forms, his thumb rubbing the fabric gently. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks Daddy.” You hop onto your tiptoes, and he leans down just slightly. You press a kiss to his cheek. 

You slip out the front door waving a goodbye, knowing full well he was watching you from the window. It didn’t take much power walking to escape his view before ducking into your date's porch. Quickly checking to see if you were followed before you decided to knock. 

Their mom opens the door, a delighted smile splits her face. “Oh my gosh Honey! You look so pretty!” She welcomes you in, taking you to their living room. Quickly hurring off to get her child. Looking over their happy family photos you smile melancholy. 

There are loud footsteps, and your date stops abruptly, jaws going slack. “Wow…”

-

You both wave goodbye to their mom as you walk to the overcrowded gym. The staff stand in a row on each side of the door, screaming and cheering as all of the students make their ways inside. 

You cringe as teachers in their 40’s fake enthusiasm, their only real joy being that most of you will soon either be gone for the summer and the others leaving at the end of the year and be some college professor's problem. Your eyes scan the room before ducking behind a wave of people. “*Babe, what the hell?” “My dad.” 

Their eyes widen as they look through the crowd, finding him quickly before returning their gaze to you. “Why didn’t you tell me before?” your face warms. “I was caught up in the moment!” You two try to walk casually to a table and sit down.

God the decor was bad.

If you’ve ever seen the 70’s version of Carrie, where the prom decor was aggressively cheap and 70’s… That, but worse. The gym still smells like last week's basketball game, and no plug in air freshener is going to erase that. 

Kinda smells like your uncle's shop. 

You both keep your heads down. “What did you tell him?” “Last week I told him that I didn’t have a date, and that I was going with a group of friends because we all couldn’t get dates.” They narrow their eyes. “Babe, why?”

“He pretends he doesn’t but… he worries a whole lot about me. I knew he’d stalk you if I told him the truth. But hey, you aren't a boy, so maybe he won’t react badly.” Their eyes widen and you shiver, it’s that icy stare you know all too well. They swallow, before straightening their collar. “What about our plan to sneak out?” 

You look around at the four different doors. “We’ll find a way, give it an hour.” 

“I figured out a way to get out, but I do want to dance with you first. I just need to use the bathroom first, wait for me, okay?” you nod and watch as they walk past a crowd of people and seemingly disappear.  

The lights dim and time passes, things eventually become more lax. You wanted to move around to try and get a escape path (and to experience what you can of prom), but your date refuses to get up at all, especially to dance and make something of the time you have.

They clear their throat and start to get up, leaning down and whispering. 

And you wait. 

And wait, and wait. Maybe, maybe they did disappear. Looking over the groups and couples dancing, and those who were still sitting like you, they were nowhere. Not in here at least. You sigh, sinking down in the uncomfortable metal chair. 

More time passes, and nothing. You start to wish you’d just gone with some friends, maybe then you wouldn’t have gotten ditched and actually had a good time. 

The clock ticks on, and it's becoming more obvious that the staff are getting ready to kick everyone out. The D.J. has been playing straight slow songs for the past 20 minutes, and you’ve had to watch couples and friends slow dance together and two people get crowned king and queen.

You tried your best to seem happy, like you were enjoying yourself. 

Pulling out your phone you see a notification from your dates account. They posted 7 minutes ago. It’s a video of them and their friends fucking around outside of a conveniance store in prom suits and dresses. You feel yourself tear up, slouching lower in the chair. The lights and people become blurry, c’mon, you don’t want to cry. 

A hand comes to rest on your shoulder, you look over your shoulder to see your father looking down at you. “Y/n.” “Hey Dad.” You say, no longer having anything to hide. Not that you can hide anything from him for long. 

He takes the seat your date had, lips pressed shut in a permanent scowl, just like normal. It didn’t scare you, that's just him. “It seems your companion abandoned you.” You scoff, pulling up your shawl. “Yeah…” “You’re upset.” “That obvious?” 

You laugh at your own joke. If he’d been your brother, he would’ve laughed too. But he sits there awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort you in this situation. “They couldn’t even give me one dance before they left me either.”

The current song playing stops and you can hear a few people whine at the idea that the next would be the last of the night. 

A hand is extended to you, your fathers, he stands waiting. It's not an option, it's a demand. You take it, getting up and following him.

The song starts and he starts to dance, but you trip over yourself. Stepping on his feet several times. 

“Sorry… I forgot how to dance.”

Both remembering too-small tiaras being shoved in his hair, little feet with sparkly plastic princess slippers on his, and a random song playing in the background. Trying desperately to teach you how to dance after you’d begged him to. 

Forgot.

You watch him smile, just slightly. The darkness giving him the anonymity to do so.

He never did, but you had so much fun. 

“That's fine, just do what you used to.” 

You step onto his feet, making you move the same as him. A question burns under your skin before you chew your lip. “You’re not mad at me?” “For?” “Lying about who I went with.” There’s a low growl like sigh. “We will deal with that later.” 

You nod, not worrying about it now. Resting your head on his chest, closing your eyes, tears streaming down your face now... All of what happened melts away, the safety of your father makes it go away. He always does. 

[aetheternity]

How to be a big brother when you've never been a big brother P2 (1k followers special)

Synopsis: In which Levi's been dating you for a year and a half and gets the news that Kuchel's pregnant.

Emergency in babysitting (cont):

Levi.."

"Hug me back." He demands you tug him in by his shoulders and he grips your shirt. Meanwhile you're also trying to keep Chance from crying again by swaying your hips. "Boys, I need to get to the stove." You say, already smelling the mashed potatoes burning.

As if you weren't struggling enough the smoke alarm blared so loud it shocked Chance back into tears. You groaned into your hand, "Levi please.. do you think you can fan the alarm?"

He pulls away from you slowly looking around the kitchen, "Grab the pot holder!" You say "Wait, I need the pot holder!"

You yank it before he can reach it and he looks back at you for some kind of instruction. Eyes glazed over with a softness you'd rarely ever seen from him.

"It's ok." You explain not completely sure on who it was directed towards. You swipe at the burning pot on the stove, pulling the lid off to give the ingredients some air while the smoke alarm continued its obnoxious blaring. "Levi, the place mats!" You point; clumsily turning the stove off.

You turn to hug a still fussy Chance in by the waist; shhing and swaying him while Levi weirdly swatted at the still screaming alarm. The alarm finally dissipated and you held Chance close kissing the sides of his forehead and running a thumb soothingly under his eyelashes. Thankful for the eventually sigh of relief that left his lips.

"There that's so much better right?" Without a second thought Levi dropped the place mat trotting over to you to bury his face in your chest. "Ugh my sweet boys what're we gonna do about this??"

You keep Levi's head resting against your shoulder with one hand carefully and gently walking both boys towards the discarded place mat. Not even bothering to fix it properly you toss it over to the table. Might as well deal with it early in the morning before Levi wakes up.

With both boys resting against a part of your body, you walk your way back to the stove sighing over the amalgamation of your struggle with both of them and too little water added to the pot.

"Chance.."

"Mashed potatoes.." He gestures, tiny fists reaching for it.

"I don't know babes it looks kinda gross." You place Chance on the counter not wanting to try to grab a utensil while holding him and Levi.

You scoot a couple feet away reaching out for a tablespoon. In the process of this a loud clatter echoes through the kitchen. You let go of Levi turning to see the disgusting mixture of mashed potatoes splattered all over the floor, Chance's pants his shoes and the counter.

Chance screamed, mouth agape, tears flowing down his face. He kicked around, voice a higher pitch then the smoke alarm minutes ago.

"Aww Chance no please don't cry." You whispered close to his ear.

"Y/N." Levi immediately tugged at your sleeve seeing your attention diverted.

Your free hand came up to run through your hair, eyebrows etched together on your face. The realization that this was probably going to be the rest of your night hit you like a freight train.

"Levi, I have to take care of Chance for a little while ok? I'm gonna give him a bath and put him to sleep then I'll be back to sleep with you ok."

Levi reached out for your sleeve again not quite as satisfied with your answer as you would've hoped.

"Right after?" He questioned, playing with the fabric.

"Yes, I promise." You reached out for his cheek and he leaned into your touch.

"I won't fall asleep, I'll wait for you." He says

You give him a little nod and he takes off towards your shared bedroom. You rock Chance softly, curling your fingers through his soft hair as his crying falls slowly into little hiccups and whines.

"It'll be ok." You whisper

"Mashed potatoes." He replies, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you search around his bag for a towel, body wash and his pj's.

"I promise I'll make you more if you let me get you out of these gross clothes."

The same gross clothes that were currently dripping mashed potato onto your once clean shirt. But that was something you could fix later. You headed into the bathroom hanging his towel next to Levi's with his kiddie bubble gum body wash on the edge of the tub, placing his clean clothes on the sink top.

"Ok can you lift your arms for me?" He did as he was told and you pulled the article of clothing seamlessly off his body and onto the bath mat he was currently sitting on. "Don't cry sweetie it's ok."

You pressed your thumb to his cheeks tracing the lines his tears had left behind. Opening the little drawer under the sink you pulled out a clean wash cloth quickly removing the rest of Chance's clothes and turning on the water for the sink.

Once you'd checked the water to make sure it was a good temperature cleaning Chance off went smoothly. You ended up splashing water on his back a lot and gently patting the shell of his ears (because it made him giggle). And the body wash smelled so good that Chance was yawning with heavy eye lids by the time you'd dried him off and gotten him into his pj's.

His fingers etched into your sleep tee, head heavy on your shoulder as you slowly but surely get him down into the crib for the night. His thin blue blanket eventually tugged into his mouth. You decide to only dim the light in case he'd wake up afraid and slightly shut the door turning the baby monitor on the dresser on.

You make your way to the stairs, stopping when you see the soles of Levi's shoes at the edge of the banister.

"Oh God, Levi!" A part of you is still trying to be quiet while another part is basically throwing caution to the wind as you kneel next to where Levi's laying on the second to top stair and a couple in between.

"I didn't fall." He mutters, squeezing the banister between his fingers.

"Oh Levi.. why didn't you go to bed?"

Levi blinks, pulling his knees into his chest. "Mm so hungry.." He huffs

"At this rate you'll eat us out of house and home." You giggle. You reach for his hand and you expect him to get up when he takes it but he doesn't move.

"Levi?"

"Why.. doesn’t Chance like me?.." You crouch to his level and he sneaks a glance at you over his shoulder. "Please don't tell me he doesn't. He smiles at Kuchel, Kenny, My step dad, you, Mikasa and even Armin and Eren. So what could I possibly be doing wrong that he already wants nothing to do with me?"

"Levi, he's only two! He doesn't know what he wants yet." You chuckle warmly hoping to break the tension. "And I know you said don't tell me he doesn't hate me but he doesn't. Who knows why he acts differently towards you but it's not hatred. He's probably conflicted because you show the least amount of affection towards him on a daily basis."

You reach out to his face stroking his hair back from his eyes. Under the thin veil of dark hair you can see the smallest shield of tears forming over his pretty grey irises.

"Really?" He exhales as if that's the best thing he's heard all night.

"Yes baby, I think he's nervous around you and he's putting up his shields. But it definitely won't last forever."

He unclenches his fingers from the banister reaching out for your arm with shaky fingers. He pushes his free hand under your arm leaning into your chest and gently presses his head to your boob.

"Are you still hungry?"

"Sleepy." He whispers, gripping you a little tighter.

You pat his knee with the hand he's not holding, "Let's go to bed then."

Chance's first day of Preschool

• You and Levi had offered to walk Chance to his first day of preschool as Kuchel and his father had to be to work earlier than normal that day.

• By the time you and Levi arrived at the house Kuchel was up and arms with supplies for work and Chance's stuff.

• It took the two of you almost twenty minutes to separate everything which you got a quick thank you for and just as soon Kuchel was out the door quickly kissing her sons goodbye followed by Chance's father.

• "Ready for you first day?" You asked Chance

• He nodded smile small with a little blush tinting his cheeks.

• He laid his head on your shoulder as you, him and Levi exited locking the door with the emergency key.

"You're coddling him again." Levi didn't fail to mention as the three of you left the house.

"I'm not coddling." You replied as you rocked Chance on your hip.

"What word would you rather describe it as?" He asked

"Well, I'm just being supportive of my favorite boy. This is his first day of preschool after all." You rubbed Chance's tummy and he snuggled in closer to you.

"Mmhm." Levi murmured 

"Are you excited?"

"Should I be?" Chance asked without missing a beat.

"Sure, I mean you're finally at the age where you can learn stuff, meet new people and finger paint. You don't have to agree but I think that's the best part."

Chance straightens looking up at you with warm eyes, "Are you staying with me?"

"No, no I'm not but Levi might." You gesture to Levi with a smirk.

"I don't want Levi, I want you." Chance huffs resting his forehead back into the crook of your neck.

"I was just kidding babes he's not staying either ok? This is just your thing. Your first experience as a lone wolf."

You snicker a little at the feeling of tiny nails gripping you a little bit tighter. You knew the reference to Chance's favorite animal would be the thing that drew him in. You give his backpack a little pat,

"Is this heavy? Do you wanna let Levi hold it for a bit?" Levi sticks his hand out as if already ready to receive the item but,

"No!" Chance reaches for the strap gripping it roughly.

"Ok ok." You replied

A couple stray hairs blew back from his face and you coaxed them down with the palm of your hand. Using the same hand you carded your fingers through his tousled bangs redirecting hair back from his face.

"Kuchel's gonna pick him up later right?" Levi asked

"Yup she wants at least one part of this experience." The entrance to the school stood as plain as day and you froze with Chance still in your arms.

"Don't tell me you're having doubts now." Levi sighed

"No, no of course not."

Chance shook his head wildly, "Wanna stay with you." He blubbered as if feeling your hesitation.

"She has work." Levi replied plainly

"Chance." You start when you see the glimpse of tears forming. "You'll see me later." You start walking again.

"Only you?"

"Me and Levi."

Chance grunts bringing the arms once wrapped around your neck to fall over his chest. "Not Levi. Just you." He whimpers

"Levi and I are together so we'll both see you. And I promise we'll ask you lots of questions about your day when you get out." Chance shook his head as Levi held the door open for the two of you.

"If you're gonna be a brat you'll see neither of us." Levi said

"Levi-"

"I don't wanna see you anyway." Chance screamed

"Chance!"

The halls were cold and you felt yourself walking just a little bit faster as you could see the light from the classroom and Chance's teacher's name embroidered on the door.

"That's enough from both of you, alright."

"Hello." The woman in charge of the class stepped into the hall. "And who might this little cutie be?"

She lowers herself so that she's eye level with Chance, smile wide and hair tied in a messy bun. You're honestly surprised when Chance introduces himself.

"Hi Chance, it's fabulous to meet you." She replies "Wanna come inside?"

Chance nods rather quickly and you let him down only for him to race inside without another word.

"He's more excited then I thought he'd be." You say

"Let's go, we have work." Levi says but he pats your back as if sensing your hesitation.

Before the two of you can actually leave the click of Chance's sneakers on the polished tiled floor makes you stop in your tracks.

"Bye Y/N!" You hear him call.

You wave, smile bright as you turn back around. Levi looks too stands as if having his own apprehensive thoughts.

"Say goodbye to Levi too!" You call to him. But he quickly vanishes sneaker sounds trailing away until it was like they were never there at all. "He says goodbye."

Levi doesn't say a word. Just guides you back through the halls the way you both came in.

An Ackerman Christmas (Sorry to all the people who don't celebrate Christmas but I also don't so this is excluding me too.):

• On the day before Christmas Kuchel had invited you and Levi over as well as Mikasa and Kenny.

• The entire drive was silent thanks to Levi being a radio hog.

• When you guys arrived Mikasa was sitting on the couch with Chance's dad and Kenny making a little holly necklace for Chance.

• You'd both been there less than four minutes when Kuchel invited you and Levi into the kitchen.

• Kuchel had the house decked out in lights, smelling like gingerbread and covered in little Santa dolls.

"Listen Levi, you're gonna hold Chance for the family Christmas card." She said handing you and Levi Santa hats. "I know you and Chance have some kind of weird sibling beef between you but it's the holidays and I want my two children to get along and take one decent photo."

You snorted, "You have beef with a five year old.."

Levi gave you a look over his shoulder, "You know it isn't my intention to constantly fight with Chance." He explains to Kuchel.

"I know sweetie but this has gone on too long. There isn't one picture of you holding Chance at all. Everyone else in our photo album has at least one picture with him in their arms."

You chewed the edge of a cookie Kuchel had handed you when you'd walked into the kitchen. "How is this picture going to be festive with a plan like this."

Kuchel sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. "Catching Chance off guard is the real plan." She says more to herself than you. "We'll do it now before everyone's eaten so that we can get some genuine smiles."

She walks out into the living room with the camera she'd taken off the table announcing the Christmas card just to be met with a long range of sighs and groans from the peanut gallery.

"Hey." You nudge Levi with your elbow. He pops his head up making eye contact with your warm smile. "Break a leg."

"Tch, that's for performances."

"Getting Chance to stay still in your arms will be a performance everyone looks forward to."

The sounds of both your shoes clicking on the hardwood alerted Kuchel who was busy pushing everyone into a small sort of formation. Eggnog promptly snatched from Kenny's hand ignoring his grunts and Chance taken from Mikasa.

When she reached for him again Kuchel jerked her head to the side gesturing to the bowl discarded on the lounge chair in the corner of the room.

"Mikasa I need you to hold that." She explained "Here Levi." With a quick kiss to both boys temples she dropped Chance in Levi's arms.

Chance wore slacks and the warmest (ugliest) Christmas sweater you'd ever seen. Though he cooperated smoothly. Holding Levi's arm as he was repositioned with Kuchel's help. His little hat almost falling over his eyes until Levi pushed the brim back up.

You stood beside Levi on his left with Mikasa standing on the far right a little bit behind him. Kenny and Chance's father just behind you and Levi as Chance squirmed a bit but that was really the only noticeable discomfort he showed.

"Ok, it's on a count down timer so I put it on 1 minute." Kuchel clapped getting into position at Chance's back. Close enough that Mikasa was still in view.

"One minute?!" Kenny groaned "Man, I don't wanna stand here that long.."

"You will stand there for one minute it won't kill you. Unlike all that drinking you do." Kuchel huffed

"Why'd you make the countdown so long??" Chance's father was next to complain.

"I don't know how to do seconds on that thing."

"Oh I do." You chimed in.

"Never mind that honey, it'll probably snap the picture while you're standing back there." Kuchel looked over her shoulder. "Mikasa, make sure to hold the bowl so the seeds are in full view."

"Seeds?" Levi asked

"She's holding a bowl full of different dyed seeds and little beads. I thought it'd be pretty."

You couldn't help but trail your eyes to Levi his smile small but so warm and sweet. Head tilted just enough that you could see every bit of the pretty glow this lighting had on his face. Perfectly accenting his cheek bones and the cool grey of his irises.

"Ok get ready guys!" Kuchel announced, leaning in just a little bit closer to Chance who you noticed had his head tilted down. Lips parted for little breaths to fall off his lips.

Before you could say a word the bright flash nearly blinded you. Your smile coming back at the last second. Two more clicks and everyone was relaxing back into their normal stature. In that same second Chance heeled over, coughing and spewing up everything he'd eaten within the past hour right onto Levi's pants and shoes.

"Oh God." Kuchel reached out for Chance lifting him into her arms as Mikasa snatched a napkin off the table to wipe his mouth. "Levi, go get a wet towel from the bathroom."

"Did he eat too many cookies?" You asked as Kuchel rocked Chance in her arms.

"I told you not to give him anymore." She huffed finger pointed at Kenny.

"He looks so cute eating them!" Kenny shrugged

"Ugh."

You ran to catch up with Levi who sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom furiously rubbing at the stains on his pants.

"Baby.." Your heels clicked as you settled onto the floor taking the wet napkin from his loose finger tips. With gentle hands you grazed the item over his knees and down to the soaked strings of his formal shoes. "It's ok, or it'll be ok-"

"I'm gonna pull the car out front." He muttered "And we can go home so I can change."

You placed the napkin at your feet. "Do you wanna come back later?"

The door peaked open and Mikasa poked her head in before quickly entering and shutting the door behind herself.

"How's Chance?" You ask biting your tongue.

"He'll be fine." She assured "How're you?"

"Covered in a little kid's vomit." Levi answered

Mikasa came closer, plopping down on her heels in front of you. "Why does Chance hate him so much?"

"Mikasa!"

Levi huffed, slumping back where he was sitting against the back of the toilet.

"I don't know." You shrugged with a laugh. "I don't know and it's like I thought it would get better I figured whatever weird grudge that kid has against Levi would eventually go away! I mean it had to right? But here we are five years after Chance was born and I'm sure if it had been anyone else holding him that wouldn't have happened."

The break in your voice made Mikasa throw an arm over your shoulder. You sighed leaning into her touch and without warning the palm of Levi's hand came down to rest on your temple.

"At some point he'll give in and the truth will come out." He says "You'll see."

Chance gets in trouble at preschool

• Somehow you and Levi had been written as the school's emergency contact instead of Kuchel

• So not only did the two of you have to head down to the school to pick up Chance but you also had to change the emergency contact information the teacher had.

"Ok Chance what's your deal today? Why'd you throw paint and that boy?" Chance didn't speak but the squeeze of his nails against the back of your hand let you know that he was listening.

"You might as well talk otherwise we're just gonna get into the car and sit there." Levi warned on Chance's other side.

"I don't have to tell you anything." Chance muttered "You're not my parent."

"When Kuchel finds out you're gonna have to talk anyway so you might as well explain." You said

"I have nothing to say to you!" Chance screamed

"Chance-"

Levi stopped you with an outstretched arm as Chance yanked his hand from yours. "Go back to work." He said plainly

"Levi-"

"I'm gonna take him to Kuchel, you need to head back to work you have paperwork to finish."

Your eyes dart between a sniffling Chance and Levi. "Are you sure?"

"Do you think I can make this situation worse?"

"You don't want me to answer that.." You giggle he sends you a blank stare. "Ok.. ok let me know how it goes later." You press a quick kiss to his cheek trying to give Chance one as well only for him to dodge you with a loud grunt. And with that you're off.

"Get in the car Chance." Levi pulls the door open gesturing to the seat.

"No!" He pouts

"Ok. I'll just send mom to come pick you up later. Maybe she'll still find you here."

Unsurprisingly Chance doesn't move when he sees Levi leave his sight and for a couple seconds after the drivers seat door shuts he still doesn't move. It isn't till Levi turns on the ignition that Chance wrenches the door next to him open. Yanks his bag off to throw it inside and hops uncomfortable into the seat next to it. Pulling his seatbelt through the loop haphazardly and needing Levi's help to click it into the clasp.

With a little bit of trouble Levi pulls out of park and smoothly drives into traffic with a slow sigh.

"Hey, mom's jobs that way." Chance mentioned tugging on his seat belt.

"You've got a smart eye." Levi replied "I'm taking you home instead."

"What for?"

"So you can spend the hours you would be at school with me instead. I already took the rest of the day off."

Safe to say Levi enjoyed the subtle bulge of Chance's already doe eyes and the huff when he realized there was no way he could get out this.

Out of force of habit Levi knocked on the front door before turning the key in the lock and pushing the heavy frame in for Chance to walk into his house.

"Put your book bag down and join me in the kitchen." Levi explained, pointing to the rack next to the door as he headed toward the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" He asked as Chance followed

"Why?" Chance asked the slight tension in his voice making Levi turn from where he'd already begun raiding the fridge for ingredients.

"I was going to make sandwiches."

"Why would you bring me here? Why're you being so nice? And why aren't you putting me on time out or something?" Words flowed out of Chance's mouth as Levi placed a sandwich right in front of him. His favorite in fact: tuna with the crust cut off and little tomatoes mixed in.

When Levi finished making his own sandwich he plopped into the seat across from Chance. "Because I've realized something about our relationship. I've never talked to you alone, I've never pulled you aside and really talked to you man to man. I only know what mom or Mikasa or Y/N have told me about you."

Chance peered down at his sandwich, tears glazing over his grey eyes. "Don't you hate me?"

"For?"

"Mom calls you less cause she's busy with me and Dad says you've never had to share her cause you grew up as an only child.."

Levi yanked a couple napkins from the center of the table, patting Chance's wet cheeks.

"I don't know if you've noticed but Kuchel loves being a mom. And when she had you she had this glow to her that I haven't seen since I was kid. You're the reason for that."

"Then.. don't you hate me.. for how much trouble I cause you?"

Levi lets his gaze flicker away as if he's thinking only to make eye contact with Chance again. "I don't but the way you treated Y/N today was unacceptable, you owe her an apology because she's done nothing but love you since the moment you were born and before that."

"Ok.."

"Hey." With his thumb under Chance's chin he coaxed Chance's face back towards him. "Let's not wait until you get in trouble at school to do this again."

Once Chance had finished his sandwich Levi had automatically done a half house inspection. Cleaning up any clothes left on the floor, wiping down counter tops and with Chance's help sorting clothes that were going to go in the washing machine.

By the time they'd finished Kuchel was walking through the door seemingly tuckered out but still managing to tackle her when she came in the door.

"Chance? Levi?"

"Rough day." Levi explained

"So that's what your father was on about on the phone." She directed her attention to Chance as she held him up. "I'm so sorry you had to call off work for this." She said, pressing a soft kiss to Levi's cheek.

"I wanted to do it." Levi replied

Kuchel turned her attention back to a guilty looking Chance. "And you, why'd you throw that paint on that boy."

"I just.. he.. he was telling me about his older brother in the sea."

Kuchel turned to Levi with an eyebrow raised, "Deployed Marine." He patiently explained

"And.. he was saying that when his brother was home him and his family would do everything for him and his brother would take him fishing and to the movies and and.." Chance sniffed

"Sounds like jealousy to me." Kuchel sighed rubbing the back of her son's head. "You know you have to apologize right?"

"Yes, mommy."

"Thank you again Levi." Kuchel smiled warmly the lines of her face slowly beginning to relax.

"Thank you Levi." Chance whispered

With a nod and a small pat to Chance's back Levi was off climbing into his car with a long exhale. Before he could start it though the buzz of his phone caught him off guard and he wiggled it from his pocket opening the notification immediately.

How'd it go?? Y/n asked with praying hands accompanying the text.

We bonded like you wanted was all he sent back.

[fallingforunrealisticromance]

Time to heal - Avengers x reader

A/N: Slight bucky x reader paring. More marvel fics??

Word Count: 1474

Warnings: Swearing

***= time skip

__________________________________________________________

You ran to the top of the building, hoping to shake the Hydra agents that were chasing you. Noticing a door that led out onto the roof, you bashed it open before promptly turning around trying to barricade it.

“Um hi?” A nervous voice called from behind you.

Spinning round yet again, your eyes fell upon a – boy you were assuming, due to the voice – dressed in a blue and red suit.

“Hey” You responded, scanning the roof for a way out.

“Are you a bad guy?” The boy asked, moving awkwardly towards you.

You smirked. “Depends what side you’re on”

You went over to the edge and looked at the ground. Not too far, only about a hundred-foot drop. Brilliant.

“Well, I- if you’re with those guys in the black suits, I’m gonna have to take you down because Mr stark would be kinda annoyed if I let you g-“

“Wait did you say stark? As in tony stark?” You asked cutting him off.

The boy nodded. Smiling to yourself you climbed up onto the ledge.

“How old are you kid?”

“Fifteen” He replied, looking rather concerned.

You nodded. “Well, I’ve loved our little chat but I’m afraid I’ve got to cut it short. Got a flight to catch. See you around.”

And with that, you leant back allowing gravity to take hold. Natasha broke through the door, tumbling next to peter just as you fell.

“I- I don’t- She just jumped.” Peter said frantically.

“Yeah.” Nat panted. “She does that.”

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

Meanwhile as you were falling, you felt two strong metal arms grab a hold of you and fly off.

“Good timing, you’re getting better stark.” You quipped.

“Shut up until we’re at the compound.” He barked back at you.

You just smiled to yourself and enjoyed the ride.

*******************************************************************

Soon enough your feet touched the ground at the Avengers compound.

“Right so can I talk now?” You questioned, grinning at tony.

“Get inside.” He replied sharply.

You rolled your eyes but followed him inside, nonetheless. He led you to an open planned, conference-looking room. In which contained the majority of the avengers, all littered across the room.

“Hey what’s up guys! Nat, Steve looking good as always.” You said, prompting an eye roll from the super solider. “Oh hey, you’re the roof kid right?” You pointed to a startled looking Peter.

“Um yeah. My names-“

“Unimportant” Tony cut him off.

You rolled your eyes. “Come on fly boy, let the kid speak. It’s not like I’m gonna hurt him.”

Tony scoffed at your comment but didn’t reply.

“Peter. My names Peter”

You nodded. “Nice to meet you peter. I’m-“

“A pain in the ass” An all too familiar voice said from behind you. You smiled to yourself, before turning around.

“Says you Barnes. Haven’t you ‘died’ like twice already?”

“Last time I checked one of those times was due to you getting distracted.” He said walking towards you, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“It’s not my fault the guard was attractive.”

“He was trying to shoot you.”

“Well, I’ve never been apposed to an enemies to lovers arc”

He chuckled at your words before placing his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You wrapped your arms around him, settling your head in the crook of his neck.

“It’s good to see you doll” Bucky whispered.

You hummed in response. Bucky and you had been entirely platonic but there was always a strong love for each other, considering everything you’d been through together by Hydra. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to be something more to him, but your lives were too unstable to try and maintain a relationship. Sam coughed awkwardly causing you to pull away from Bucky. Tony had a face like thunder slapped on him.

“So, what are you doing here?” Steve asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

There was a tense atmosphere in the room as they all stared you down.

“Well, I was being chased, ended up on a roof top and you know me capsicle – I never can resist hurling myself off a tall building. So, I did just that and tin can man over there” You gestured to a rather pissed off looking tony. “Caught me and brought me here.”

No one said anything, just swapped looks. After a moment Sam spoke up.

“Why were you even there? How did you know a raid was happening?”

“You do know you guys aren’t the only ones who track this kind of stuff right?” You replied, throwing yourself into a seat next to Peter. “I’ve got to do something to keep myself busy.”

“Well maybe if you hadn’t just got up and left the team without any notice, thanks for that by the way, we could’ve kept you busy” Tony shot.

You spun round, visibly annoyed. “Oh yeah because I chose to leave didn’t I” You retorted sarcastically.

“No one forced you to leave” He grumbled.

You stared at him, not able to believe what you were hearing. You figured after everything he’d put you through, he’d have the decency to stop lying about it. You could feel yourself getting more worked up by the second.

“You know what I shouldn’t have come here.” You got up and made your way towards the door.

Just as you were about to leave, you turned back to face Tony. “You know, next time you arrange for someone to be dragged from their room kicking and screaming in the middle of the night to then be put through a shit ton of pain for months, at least have the fucking balls to admit it.”

And with that you stormed out, leaving the avengers utterly baffled.

“The fuck did she mean by that stark?” Bucky asked, tensing up.

“I don’t know” He called back defensively. “F.R.I.D.A.Y where’s y/n got to?”

Peter looked around confused. “Y/n?”

“That’s her name Pete” Nat said, patting his shoulder.

“Miss y/l/n is almost out of the premises sir.” Tony jumped up.

“What are you-“ Steve was cut off by tony running out of the room and down the halls.

********************************************************************

You wiped away a few tears of anger as you headed towards the gate. You couldn’t understand why Tony would do this to you.

“Y/N!!” You heard tony calling after you. “Y/n wait please” He ran to catch up with you. “Y/n” He grabbed your arm causing you to face him.

“What tony? What could you possibly want?” You yelled, pulling your arm from his grip.

“What were you on about just now? About me arranging for you to be taken?” He asked desperately.

You laughed at him. “Stop acting like you don’t know what I’m on about Stark.”

“I’m not! I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re on about.” He yelled helplessly.

You stared at him, trying to work out if he was lying or not. “Your being serious? You don’t know?” You asked, trying to calm yourself down.

“None of us do doll.” You looked behind him to see Bucky and the others walking towards you, looking as equally confused. “But they told me. They told me every fucking day. They said you paid them” You ran your fingers through your hair, tears threatening to spill yet again.

Your head was spinning. You’d spent so long resenting tony, only to find out he had nothing to do with it?

“Who y/n?” Bucky asked, coming closer to you.

“The fucking Hydra agents Buck.” You yelled throwing your hands in the air. “They found me again. They tortured me for months over and over again. They told me stark paid them, that he wanted me gone.”

You were practically sobbing by now. Bucky’s heart broke for you. He’d searched for you when you left but after a while, he’d assumed you had run away as did the rest of the team. Knowing what he did now, he felt sick knowing he could’ve helped you.

“Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight as you cried into his chest.

He glanced over at Tony, who looked just a destroyed as he felt. Bucky stroked your hair as he whispered sweet nothings to you, trying to calm you down. After a while, you managed to slow your breathing and pulled away from Bucky. You wiped your face before facing the team again.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry.” Tony breathed.

Even if it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. You nodded.

“I know.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. This wasn’t something that you’d be able to get over quickly. It would take a while for them to earn back your trust, and they knew that.

“So” You started. “Can I move back in?” You looked hopefully at them.

Steve beamed at you. “Of course.”