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vintage-story-time · 2 years

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African Prince

Chapter 7

When his Mom got home, Mikey was in the shower. He was still reeling from what he'd seen but the hot water was starting to clear his head. In his mind, he tried to reaffirmed that he had not jerked off to Julie being raped, but to her naked body. What young male would not be aroused by the sight of a beautiful young body slicked down and dripping with cum? He felt like he should do something or tell somebody about what was going on in the Osbourne house- but how could he explain his own presence there?

Mikey's actions weren't exactly that of a role model citizen either. As he got out of the shower and toweled himself off, he was still confused, but at least he had calmed down. As he wrapped the towel around himself he heard a light knock on the door. "Mikey?" It was his Mom. Her voice was sweet and calm, unlike when he had last seen her this morning. "I'm home. When you come out of there..."

With a towel wrapped around his waist, Mikey interrupted by opening the door. His Mom gave him a wide and warm smile and continued, "I was just going to say, I brought some ice cream, whip cream, hot fudge, and cherries home. I'm going to make myself a sundae. If you'd like to join me for one it would make your old Mom real happy."

His Mom's word's were comforting and relieving. He had no idea how she was going to act when she got home. He had been afraid that he might have changed everything between them- but now his Mom seemed as calm and warm and motherly as ever. It felt good. He really needed a Mom about now.

Once he had got dressed, he headed down to the kitchen where his Mom already had two huge sundaes whipped up. They sat down at the kitchen table across from one another. Even with his Mom's warm attitude and kind words, he didn't know what to say to her.

He still felt a strong tension between them that she did not seem to. He had tried to fuck his Mom last night and again just this morning. What did she think about it? She showed no outward signs of embarrassment, she just smiled and scooped ice cream into her mouth.

Mikey found himself watching those moist and voluptuous lips again. As she closed them a hint of whip cream squirted through them, touching the corner of her lips. She had a smile- No, a smirk- on her face as she ate. And she said nothing. Mikey tried to keep from looking at her by continually averting his eyes elsewhere.

Her lips kept calling his eyes back, reminding him of how they felt against his mouth in the passionate kiss they engaged in just that morning. His Mom seemed somehow confident. That confidence combined with the mysterious smirk on her lips made her look sexier than ever. It was like she knew something he did not and she wasn't talking.

When the silence finally broke it was Mikey. "Mom," He began but then his will to speak fizzled out as he looked up at her face. That face that had always been his stability, that face always tucked him in at night, that face always made his lunch and pecked him on the cheek as he went off to school. He couldn't tell if it was still her - his Mom.

He looked at her. He looked at her smirk, her moist full lips, her smooth skin- the skin that yesterday had had his cum dripping off it - and he wondered if that had changed everything - if it had ruined everything. But her calm, her peacefulness was even more frustrating. Why wasn't she worried? Why didn't this bother her? He had tried to fuck her for christ's sake.

With his frustration, Mikey began again, this time with in a loud and angry voice he had never addressed his Mom in before, "Dammit Mom!" Mikey exploded. "Doesn't it bother you? I came on you. I spewed on your face. You tasted my cum."

"Michael Kulu Harrison!" His Mom's gentle smile was ripped off her face as she responded angrily to the profanity. "You watch your mouth, young man. Don't you ever talk to your mother that way. If your father ever heard you talking like that he would beat some sense into you. What's the matter with you?"

"Dad's dead Mom. He's not gonna stop me from saying what I want." Mikey lost all control, the stress of what had happened between him and his Mom and about what he had seen happen to Julie Osbourne all came rushing to the surface. And that stress, that frustration, that confusion now flowed uninhibited to the surface and out through his angry words.

"He couldn't stop you from jerking me off and licking up my cum. What's the matter with you?"

His mother began to ball.

Mikey immediately felt terrible for what he said.

"I'm sorry," Mikey said standing up and turning to walk around the table that separated them. "I'm sorry, Mom." He stepped up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. "It's just... I'm... What we..." He stuttered not knowing how to undo what he'd said. "It's just I don't know what to think, Mom. I'm confused. I love you. I love you, Mom." Mikey put his other hand on her other shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

His Mom regained control of her tears. "I know Mikey. I can imagine how you must feel. How confused you must be." She turned her head around behind her so she could look as her son. "It's just we have to talk. There's something I must ask you, and first there's something I must tell you."

"What?" Mikey asked. "It seems like you've had some big secret ever since we, well, it happened. What the hell is it? Please Mom clue me in, this is driving me crazy. I just don't know what to think."

"Okay. Yes, there is something," she admitted. "I wanted us both to clear our heads first. That's why I went out today. We needed to be apart. I wanted you to try to sort out your own feelings before I talked to you. I don't know if it worked or not, but I can't wait any longer to tell you. I can see what internal havoc this is reeking in you."

Mikey just stared at her blankly, not even capable of imagining what she was about to say. "What? What is it?" he asked.

"I have a possible solution to our problems. But first you must understand that the solution might raise just as many bizarre feelings in you as did the problem - namely our incest."

Mikey just stared.

She continued, "Mikey, incest is wrong. You and I were both raised in this culture, the most deeply seeded rules dictate that sexual relations between family members is wrong. Terribly wrong. This is why you and I have both been feeling guilty about what we've done. It was incest. Last night on the couch and this morning in my bed, what we did was incest. What we did was wrong."

"So why are you so calm? Almost... happy?" Mikey asked, more confused about what his mother was getting at then ever.

"Mikey, please," his Mom pleaded, "Let me finish.

"I'll explain," she said, taking Mikey's hand into her own. "You know what a spiritual person I've always been. I've told you many times about the beliefs of our ancestors. But I haven't told you all their beliefs.

"Mikey, my people... our people, our culture... I'm not talking about all Africans here, I mean our nation, our tribe... the beliefs that were passed down from your grandparents, from my grandparents, from my great grandparents. I've never told you this before Mikey, but we are royalty... I mean we should have been royalty... My father was a leader.. a king of sorts...

"I was destined to be a princess, Mikey. But there's nothing left to rule... our people are gone, our culture is gone. The only thing our ancestors have left is a few vague memories of my parents, of their way, and what my older sisters have always told me. They remember much more about Africa than me, Mikey. They remember Mom and Dad... They remember stories... They remember their riches and jewels... The remember their beliefs."

"But Mom, what does this have to do with u.s.. with our wrong doing?" Mikey asked, still confused as to where all this was leading.

"Patience, Mikey, patience," she said as she gently ran her hand across his shoulders. "I'm getting to that."

She paused now, knowing that what she was about to say had the potential to change the relationship between her and her son forever.

"Mikey, when your father died, your aunt expressed her sorrow to me that you were so young. That you were too young to..." She paused here and looked deep into her son's eyes. "...to take his place. Mikey in our African culture it is acceptable, even expected that the eldest son marry his mother if she becomes a widow."

Mikey looked at her in disbelief. He started to speak but he had no words to respond.

"Mikey, its okay. Just listen for a minute. Now I have always known about this tradition, but until last night I never planned on telling you. Incest is the greatest taboo in this culture. It's wrong here. As much as I like to feel in touch with my ancestors, the truth is I have lived here most of my life, just like you. I had all those horrible guilty feelings too, just like you Mikey. But last night on the couch and this morning in my bed, I want nothing more than for us to be joined... to have you inside of me, Mikey."

Mikey couldn't believe what he was hearing. His mother did want him. She still wanted him and hearing her talk about it was making him hard. Still, he could find no words to speak.

She continued, "Now Mikey, you have to understand, what I'm talking about here isn't just a poor excuse for a sexually deprived woman and her horny young son to act out some perverted fantasy. Mikey, I'm talking about a commitment here. I'm talking about performing an old ritual, I'm talking about you and I getting married. I'm talking about you committing your life to me.

Again, Mikey could not comprehend. Married? Was he really hearing this? He stared at her blankly. "Mikey, what I'm saying is I want you to be my African Prince. I want you to take the place of Dad. I want you to fill the hole in my life created when your father died. I can perform the ceremony. Friends and relatives are supposed to attend, to celebrate, but we will have to be very secretive. I want to perform the ceremony right here, tonight. The ancestors will understand.

Mikey couldn't believe what he was hearing. And the look in his Mom's eyes. He could see that she was not only serious, she was eager to begin what she was talking about.

She stood up and walked around to Mikey's side of the table. She put her hands on her son's shoulders and asked, "What do you say, baby?" Mikey just sat unresponsive for another moment. His Mom began massaging his shoulders gently, and after a moment slid one hand down her son's chest. She pressed her face into the back of his still damp medium-length frizzy hair. She slid her hand under the bottom of his shirt and slid her smooth dark hand across his stomach and up to his chest. She gave one of his nipples a gentle pinch.

Mikey jumped in his chair at the touch. His dick hardened quickly. He could deny it no more. He leaned to the side and turned his head to face hers. He reached up to her head and pulled her lips to his. Open-mouthed, mother and son kissed. Mikey could smell his mother's sexy scent as his tongue swirled aggressively around hers.

She slid her hand down from his chest to the hem of his pants. She fiddled with the button momentarily before finally undoing it and zipping down Mikey's pants. Still kissing, she reached into her son's underwear to grasp his penis with her smooth motherly hand. Now she used her other hand to pull his shirt over his head.

He reached to his Mom's tits and filled both his hands with her large breasts. Meanwhile his Mom began to lightly stroke his dick inside his underpants. He started to pull his Mom's shirt off, and she momentarily stopped stroking to take her shirt off. Mikey quickly unclipped his Mom's bra as she slid his underwear down and resumed stroking, a little harder now.

He started to involuntarily hump his Mom's hand as he moved his mouth to take his Mom's nipple into his mouth. He lightly bit at her nipple and she gasped in response. Mikey slid one hand down to he inner thigh and began lightly rubbing her leg while slowly getting closer to her pussy.

His Mom began breathing sharply in sync with his hand; when he finally put his hand down on her panty clad mound, he felt her wetness, and he heard her soft shriek. He began rubbing her pussy through her panties. The two both began breathing harder as they stroked each other.

Mikey soon slid his hand under his Mom's panties, then pushed them down just past her pussy. He began sliding his middle finger up and down the length of her slit and his Mom began gasping and crying out. When he finally dipped his finger inside her she cried out his name.

The moment of truth had arrived, Mikey climbed on top of his mother's sleek black body, feeling the smooth flesh of her inner thighs as his thighs came to rest between hers.

Almost without knowing how his stiff little prick found its way to his mother's slick slit and his tense body thrust and then thrust again. To the boy's amazement he felt the most glorious felling in his life as he sank to the hilt into his mother's wet, hot embrace.

Mind numb but body quivering with unimagined sensations the young black prince began to thrust eagerly in and out of his mother's willing submissive body, faster and harder the young man thrust as he did what his heritage demanded.

Mikey's mother was hugging his taught young body to her and moaning in deep pleasure as her only son thrust into with abandon, the freedom of naked sex, uninhibited thought, nothing but animal need mixed with deep abiding love, made their simultaneous climax something the would never forget. This moment would live with them forever.

Mikey's orgasm was so intense that he almost blacked out as he came deep in his mother's body, gasping for breath at the wondrous release like nothing he'd ever experienced before and afterwards all he could hear was both his and him mother's sobbing gasps of wonder and spent pleasure.

And now, they lives had truly changed, no going back....

Epilog:

A few years and one child later Mikey and his mother took in Julie Osbourne after Mikey had beaten her father senseless and had warned him that if he every even looked at his daughter again, Mikey and his mother would call the police and tell them what had been going on.

Shortly after taking Julie in, Mikiy now 17 years old, married Julie with his mother's blessing so he could legally protect her from her father and they lived a polygamous and indecently incestuous life from that time forward.

Not a bad life if you can get it. Wouldn't you agree?

END

#African Prince #Chapter 7

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

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The Perfect Fit | Bucky Barnes x reader (part 2)

(part 1)

summary: after getting fitted by you, bucky’s going to try on the custom-made suits he’s bought. unless he makes his move now, he may not get to see you again, and he can’t let that happen.

word count: 6.5k

warnings: smut!!, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), a little d/s energy, mirror kink, stomach bulge kink, slight pain kink?, creampie kink, pussy spanking, light bondage, bucky being jealous

Bucky had a bone to pick with Tony, which was usually true but this wasn’t work-related for once. It wasn’t hard to find him in the same place he’d seen him last— eating his lunch in the kitchen, with Sam nearby chowing down on lo mein with a spring roll.

“Hey lefty, what’s cracking?” Tony greeted, mouth full but talking loudly anyways.

"I went down to that tailor you recommended—" Bucky began, but Tony was quick to interrupt.

"You went there? Dude, it's a really nice place, you can just call and she'll come to you instead, way more convenient."

"So now you say 'she'?"

Realization dawned on Tony’s expression. "Ahh, I get it. You're not used to a female tailor. Adds a little spice to getting fitted, huh?" he grinned, elbowing Bucky playfully.

Bucky’s throat felt a little dry when he heard that. "Don't tell me that's why you use her…"

"Hey now, I'm not a creep, I use her cause she's the best, and those house calls are great for discretion— you know, being a celebrity and all. The eye candy part is just gravy."

"Gravy candy sounds disgusting," Sam chimed in, missing the point entirely.

"Yeah, well, she mentioned some stuff that sure made you sound like a creep."

"Okay, well, you can't blame me for getting caught staring when I'm surrounded by fucking mirrors. Makes it hard to be stealthy."

"You could try not staring,” Bucky suggested flatly.

"Is that what you did?"

Tony smirked when Bucky failed to reply immediately. "Okay, so it's easier said than done,” Bucky admitted with a frown, “but still, I hope these house calls were strictly professional."

“What’s it to you, man? I think somebody’s jealous,” Tony purred.

“What? No, it’s not that,” Bucky denied.

“You love her,” Tony sing-songed, completely ignoring Bucky. “You looooooove her!”

"You are so immature," Bucky rolled his eyes, even though his heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was blushing.

"No, it's good for you! She's a catch, you're all brooding and stuff— maybe she can melt the Winter Soldier's frozen heart, hm?"

Sam laughed heartily. "Stark, you read too many comic books."

"You're saying you don't wanna see Icy Hot here shoot his shot with my tailor?" Tony asked, turning his attention towards Sam.

Sam pondered that, much to Bucky's dismay. "Depends. How hot is she?"

"Mega," Tony smirked confidently. "Legs for miles, and she wears these skirts that make her ass look—"

"I think I've heard enough," Bucky groaned. "I'm leaving. And don't ask when I'm going to see her again," he instructed, interrupting Tony just as he'd opened his mouth to speak, "because I won’t tell you.”

As Bucky left, he could hear Tony calling out into the hall: “But I’d be such a great wingman!”

Truth be told, Bucky had put off mastering the use of his smartphone. It wasn’t just that new technology made him feel old, but that he knew nobody would be calling or messaging him anyways; if the phone didn’t work, he would spare himself the embarrassment of waiting up for nothing.

But once he knew you were going to call? Suddenly, he was motivated to figure the sucker out.

A few hours later and now all he had to do was stare at it to make sure he wouldn’t miss you. Luckily, you didn’t make him wait too long. He recognized the number and decided to let it ring a few times before picking up, so it would seem like he had other things to do besides talk to you.

“Hello?” Bucky asked when he answered, so it would seem like he had other people calling him besides you.

You introduced yourself so formally that he was a little afraid that all that fun energy between you two would be gone. Thankfully, once he asked what you were calling about, you were back to being cheery and casual again.

“I was just calling to schedule when I could come by with your new suits!” you explained, sounding chipper.

His fingertips were a little tingly just from hearing you talk, nervousness making him antsy (in a weirdly good way). “I know you said it’s a one-person operation,” he responded smarmily, “but I figured you would outsource delivery.”

You scoffed, though it sounded more amused than irritated. “It’s not just delivery, I have to check the fit and make sure everything’s exactly to your liking.”

“Oh, well, I’m free all day tomorrow— and I think you already know my address.” Was it too forward? Too obvious? And why did Bucky spend half the time when he was talking to you second-guessing himself?

“Yes, Stark Tower is a relatively common destination for me. If he doesn’t mind us using it, Tony has a dressing room with plenty of mirrors so you can get a good look. But, I’d be happy to just go up to your quarters if that’s easier.”

He was not at all ready for you to see his room. No way he could clean it enough in the next twelve hours; and even then, lots of the team had made fun of how empty and plain it was, so he knew it would just make you think he was boring.

“I’m sure Tony won’t mind you using his dressing room, but he might mind me using it,” Bucky chuckled.

“Well, if he makes a fuss I’ll be sure to set him straight,” you decided confidently. Somehow, imagining you cursing out Tony was almost hotter than imagining you doing anything else. “Be sure to bring down your dress shoes so you get the full look and everything.”

“Uhhh…” he trailed off as he scratched the back of his head, trying to remember if he owned anything other than combat boots. “Not sure I still have those, to be honest.”

"Okay, you'll need shoes too,” you noted aloud, your voice a little distant; he figured you were writing things down, which was why you sounded distracted. “What size are you?"

"Thirteen."

"I'll bring a selection tomorrow,” you announced firmly. “And socks, of course. And some watches, maybe? And pocket squares."

"Is that it?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh right, I’m bringing the ties you picked out, too. I’ll throw in some alternates in case your original choices don’t match the way you were hoping.”

“You really are full-service,” he chuckled.

“I get that a lot,” you replied, a hint of coyness to your tone.

There it was again; that jealousy. He hated it because he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop it either. As much as his mind was completely aware that you were an independent, modern woman capable of handling herself, his heart was equally determined to protect you, and spoil you, and do whatever was necessary to make sure you were safe.

Worse, his gut was less innocent. Mine, it demanded, all mine. Nobody else’s.

He pushed it down and just tried to get through the rest of the call without saying something he’d regret. You confirmed the date and time with him, and he tried not to be too aggressive when he said he was looking forward to it.

He hung up his phone and sighed, staring off into space. Now all that was left to do was wait, and be overwhelmed with anxiety. Thankfully, he was good at the second thing.

"So, what do you think?"

I think you look so damn good from every angle. I think I might spend all my money on suits just to be sure I can see you again. I think you need somebody to love you the way you deserve. I think you’d look like an angel waking up in my bed.

You waved your hand in front of his face for a moment, calling his attention back to reality. “Helloooo?”

Drawn out of his trance, Bucky finally looked in the menagerie of mirrors surrounding him and admired his reflection, amazed by the perfect fit of his first suit. The difference in quality between this and something off the rack was beyond apparent. Most of all, your talent was undeniable. "I think it's beautiful."

You smiled proudly. "Of course it is, but do you like how you look in it?"

"Honestly? I feel a bit… out of place. I'm obviously not classy enough for a suit like this."

"Oh, nonsense," you dismissed.

He frowned, convinced this was all flattery. "No, seriously, this is… maybe I should just wear tactical gear to every event."

"Well, you'd still look good, but you're not always a soldier. Sometimes you're only a man. And every man should own a fine suit."

It was much too profound of a thing to say while you casually straightened his jacket, only to pop out from behind his reflection to smile at him in the mirror.

“Let’s get the next one on you,” you decided, helping him lose the jacket but having him move into a private dressing room to switch trousers and shirts. “I put a turtleneck in there instead of just a regular button-up,” you explained through the door as he changed, “in case you wanted to see it that way.”

Once he’d put it on, he stepped back out and you were looking at him so proudly— well, you were looking at your handiwork with pride, really, but he could pretend it was for him and hope actually impress you that much one day.

“I went with a shawl lapel on this one, as opposed to the last one which was notched,” you explained as you traced the line with your finger. “Spoiler: the next one has a peak lapel. But enough about that one: what do you think of this one?”

“This looks like something my friend Sam would wear,” Bucky decided as he looked at himself in the cranberry suit and black turtleneck. The shoes you’d had him try on with this were intricate as well, with subtle stitching in the leather and a shine so immaculate he could almost see a reflection in them.

“Well, is your friend Sam stylish?” you asked.

“He would certainly say so,” he smirked.

“I’m inclined to agree, because you—” you gave him a thorough glance up and down, so thorough in fact that he felt a bit exposed under your gaze, “—look marvelous.”

“Not pretentious?”

“No, no, it works on you,” you assured, “you’ve got the looks for it.”

“And what looks are those?”

“Um… good? Good looks?”

He definitely remembered a time when that seemed like the obvious answer, because he had relied on being good-looking for a lot of things in life, but that felt very far away now. Maybe it was just that people who didn’t know what he’d done could still think he was good looking, but everyone else saw the evil within beginning to leak out the way that he did.

But you knew what he’d done, didn’t you? You had to. You knew Tony, you were here at the Tower… unless you were intentionally not up-to-date on current events, you must have heard of the Winter Soldier.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you huffed, “as if it’s a big secret or something. You’re obviously very attractive.”

Bucky cleared his throat nervously. “Uh, thanks.” He wanted to return the compliment, but thought it might be inappropriate or rude somehow. You broke the silence quickly as you held up two pocket squares in front of him.

“Which of these do you prefer?” you prompted. He selected the solid gold one, making you smile. “I knew you’d pick that one.”

“How?”

“I dunno, just fits you,” you shrugged as you folded it and gently placed it in his pocket. Even through so many layers, your touch on his chest made his heart flutter. Your fingers brushing over his as you slipped a watch onto his wrist was enough to cause palpitations.

He looked better in this ensemble than he expected. This version of himself looked much more likely to be invited to parties than any other version. If only he actually wanted to go to parties.

You put him in the pinstripe suit last, after putting a few pins in the cranberry suit to indicate minor changes you would make later, and stepped back to ponder your work.

"Hm, unbutton those top two buttons for me?" you requested with a raised eyebrow.

I will if you do, he thought to himself, but silently unbuttoned his own shirt anyway.

"I mean, it definitely works like this, but I wanna see you in a tie. And I've got juuuuust the one," you smiled. Soon you were approaching him with a red paisley tie, and helping him button up his shirt and tying the tie for him— you explained something about how it was a unique knot he likely couldn't do himself, but he was too lost in having you so close to notice. It would be so easy to just reach up and grab your waist, pull you into a kiss, finally tell you how bad he wants you.

Well, it would be physically easy, but it would be very scary. Just imagining it had his heart racing.

“I heard from Tony this morning,” you informed him suddenly, slipping the tie around his neck and popping his collar up for him.

“Really? Is he in need of a wardrobe update?”

“Yes, but he hasn’t realized that yet so that wasn’t what he called about.”

He laughed a little at the jab, though it also made him a little worried what secret opinions you held about his own style (or lack thereof).

“We talked about you, actually,” you added.

“O-oh,” Bucky stammered, “uh, he’s not exactly my biggest fan. So whatever he said probably isn’t true.”

“He said that you have a crush on me,” you replied nonchalantly, not even looking up from your work on his tie.

Bucky gulped, and he knew you saw the bob of his Adam’s apple because you were staring right at his neck.

“Like I said, Tony isn’t a very reliable source,” Bucky replied, but his voice cracked in the middle and he cringed internally.

“I’ll write it off as another one of Tony’s off-color jokes then,” you dismissed, perfecting the knot of his tie and stepping back to observe him. He always felt nervous when you looked at him like that, like he couldn’t hide anything from you.

“What… what did you say, when he told you that?” Bucky asked nervously.

“I asked him what he was smoking and if I could have some,” you laughed. “I thought it was totally impossible— and don’t worry, I didn’t tell him that you got hard when I did your inseam.”

Bucky’s throat became dry at the same moment that his palms got clammy.

“I— um, I was just—”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you dismissed quickly, still talking about this all so casually which only made him even more confused, “you’re not the first, it happens.”

“I’m not the first?!”

“Yeah, if anything you were one of the few who didn’t say something creepy about it, which is always appreciated. It’s just a bodily reaction, you can’t control it.”

“Did Tony ever say something creepy?” Bucky pressed, his hands involuntarily tightening into fists— another bodily reaction he couldn’t control.

“You know, Tony said you were really worried that he had been inappropriate with me, or even that he and I had a fling or something,” you added as you stepped back, giving him a quizzical look, “and now it’s sort of sounding like he was right.”

“No, no, it’s not that, I just—”

“Was he right about anything else?” you pressed, raising an eyebrow.

“I was being nosy, I’m sorry,” he sighed, “it’s just that… and I know it’s none of my business, but the idea of him and you… it isn’t a pleasant mental image.”

You laughed a little, in a way that made him feel kind of small. “Why not? You know how he is. Definitely has a wandering eye… and occasionally a wandering hand.”

Bucky winced. “I swear, if he ever put his hands on you, I’ll go find him right now and beat him senseless.”

“What if I wanted him to?”

He nearly saw red, but he knew he had no right to be angry. You were a grown adult and he had no ownership over you… he just sort of wished that he did.

“So it’s true then? You and him…?”

“No, Bucky,” you laughed, “it’s not. Nothing’s ever happened between us. I generally don’t get involved with clients like that.”

“Generally? Is there an exception?”

You chewed your lip, seemingly a little thrown off by his question. “Uh, I mean, no— I’ve never been involved with a client, no, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Why would you say ‘generally’ then?”

“Uh, I guess I just… I wouldn’t want to rule anything out, that’s all. Never say never.”

And for a moment he almost wondered if you were flirting with him. Certainly not, with him having come across as both a jealous hot-head and a bumbling dweeb who pops a boner faster than a randy teenager, but just for a second the way you looked at him was… questionable.

“I mean, who knows,” you continued, “what if, hypothetically, some gorgeous guy walked into my store one night— a sensitive guy, who made me laugh and put up with me rambling about ties for the better part of an hour— and I was supposed to dress him up when all I wanted to do was undress him?”

Your finger started to trail down his chest lightly, tickling his skin through the dress shirt.

“I wouldn’t want to think he was off-limits just because he’s a customer… right?” you asked quietly, looking up at him and biting your lip.

He was afraid to make the wrong move, but he really really hoped this was flirting.

“I don’t think anyone would object to being dressed or undressed by you,” Bucky responded, hoping he could stay neutral until he was sure what you were talking about.

You chewed your lip, looking away as if you were thinking about something.

"I know I certainly haven't. And wouldn't," he added, feeling the need to say something.

You nodded, placing his tie inside his jacket and seeming happy with your work.

“You know, the fit looks great," you announced, "but I’m a little worried that one of the measurements was wrong. Mind if I do your inseam again?”

His throat was dry all of a sudden, but he responded quickly anyways. "Uh, go ahead…"

You looked up at him as you started to sink to your knees, very slowly. That little move looked real good in the mirror behind you. “Last time I did this, there was something getting in the way, made it difficult to know if I was doing it right…”

"M-my apologies," he whispered.

"Oh no, I'm not complaining," you purred as you slowly began to run your fingers up the side of his leg, keeping searing eye contact until his knees felt a little weak.

When your hand reached the top of his inner thigh, the back of it brushed against his balls and he shivered. Delicately, and so excruciatingly slowly, your hand moved higher and gently rubbed his erection through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

It must have been all the anticipation that made it so intense, made shivers run up his spine every time your hand moved over his length, made his toes curl inside the ridiculously fancy shoes you’d put him in.

“I’m gonna take it out now, okay? I promise I won’t measure you here,” you winked.

"You can if you want," he shrugged, deciding now was the time for feigned confidence if there ever was one. “I mean, if you’re worried about fit…”

You bit your lip, and he was proud to see the effect his words had on you. “I’ll be honest, I am a little worried it won’t fit…” You were quick with his belt, but slow with his button and fly, apparently having more fun teasing him. “Fuck, Bucky,” you groaned softly as you took his cock out.

“Don’t look so excited, doll, you’ll give me an ego,” he purred.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed, “looks delicious.”

You licked a long wet stripe up from the bottom all the way to the tip, making a show of licking up the bead of pre-cum before taking his head into your mouth, and Bucky blinked a few times to be sure that this was actually happening.

"Been wanting to do that since I first saw you," you admitted, grinning as you stroked him right beside your face, which only helped to illustrate how big he was compared to you.

"Dirty girl," he praised with a smirk.

Flirting, he wasn’t so good at. Conversation in any form typically stressed him out. But this? This he was still pretty good at. And he’d never wanted it so bad before.

When you took him in your mouth again, you didn’t stop until you started to gag; he couldn’t stop himself from moaning through his teeth when you did it.

"Look up at me, princess," he instructed softly, grinning when you obeyed quickly. "Now look over there at that mirror. Look how good you look on your knees for me, choking on my cock."

You moaned around him when you made eye contact with your own reflection, and it felt so fucking good he almost lost it right then and there. He held your jaw, almost too tightly, and guided you as your head bobbed on his length. Your mouth was so warm he thought he would burn up— and it only got warmer the deeper he managed to get. God, he was so ready to pump his load right into your throat, but he wanted to do so much more to you first.

In one quick motion, he pushed you off of his cock, pulled you up to face him, and flipped you around, holding you to his chest with the metal arm and letting the flesh one start rubbing your thigh. This way, both of you were looking at the mirror in front of you, and he loved watching you gasp and moan as you felt and watched his fingers move higher and higher.

“I think it’s time to find out if you really are ‘full-service’,” he purred right against your ear, making searing eye contact with you in the reflection. “You’ve seen so much of me, but I haven’t seen nearly enough of you yet. Been daydreaming about what you could be hiding under these tight little skirts.”

As he pulled up the plaid-patterned fabric, he saw that you were wearing white, lacy panties and he groaned deeply.

“What are you wearing these for?” he teased, rubbing along the edge but never getting where you wanted— and he knew you were getting desperate, because your hips were starting to buck up into his hand. “Were you expecting something would happen today, sweetheart?”

“I— I was hopeful,” you stammered; instantly, he slapped you right on your barely-covered pussy, just hard enough to make you yelp and squirm in his grasp.

“You’re so shameless,” he chuckled darkly, “and I love it. I just hope this isn’t your usual routine— acting all innocent and batting your eyes so your clients will fuck you.”

“No, I swear, it’s just you, Bucky,” you whimpered, “there’s nobody else, please…”

“Please what? Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to… to touch me more,” you whispered, as if it was a secret and not patently obvious.

He slipped two fingers underneath the thin fabric, finding your clit right away (not difficult at all with how swollen it was) and rubbing it in gentle circles.

“Oh god,” you sighed, “Bucky…”

WIth his hand on your hips, it wasn’t hard at all to push you back into him so he could rub his aching cock against you.

"What material is this skirt made of?"

"It's a silk blend," you answered breathlessly, "about 30% cotton."

"It's soft," he purred before yanking your skirt up higher and pressing his cock against your ass instead, "but not as soft as you."

Next to go was your blouse, which he tore open to the sound of buttons flying every direction and bouncing off of the mirrors and floors.

"Bucky!" you yelped, but he could see your nipples harden through the lacy white bra. If there was any doubt that you had intended to seduce him today, the matching undergarments dispelled it.

After teasing your nipples between his fingers for a moment, he reached back down between your legs— and when his fingers slipped through your folds and moved down to your opening, he actually moaned just from how wet you are.

"Fucking hell," he growled, "you are drenched, princess. You liked sucking me off that much?"

"Not just that," you clarified, "you look really good in my suits."

He gave you a toothy smile in the mirror, using it to nibble on your ear a bit. "You deserve most of the credit for that," he purred.

"No, no, I don't," you whined, "you'd look sexy in a paper bag, honestly… you turn me on so much, Bucky."

“Did you… think about me? After I left your shop the other night?” he asked playfully, already foreseeing your answer from the way your thighs clenched and your lips let out the subtlest gasp.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“You’re smart enough to know I want you to be more specific than that,” he chuckled.

“I thought about you that night… after I got into bed…” you elaborated slowly, clearly distracted by the way he was moving his fingers: delicately, but with obvious intentionality. “I thought about what it would’ve been like if you had grabbed me and kissed me, shoved me against the wall, fucked me right there on my desk… in front of the glass wall, where anyone could’ve walked by and seen you claim me…”

His cock was throbbing, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the image itself or from the knowledge that you’d been fantasizing about it. “Were you touching yourself?” he growled.

“Yes,” you sighed, your thighs starting to visibly shake, your knees bending towards each other in the mirror.

“Show me how,” he demanded. “Show me exactly how you were playing with your needy little pussy while you thought about me.”

Your hand found its place on top of his, your fingers starting to move his to the specific place, guiding his movements to be faster and rougher.

“Oh, I see,” he grinned, “you don’t like to tease yourself, do you? You like to jump right into it, come as many times as you can and rub yourself raw in the process?”

You nodded feverishly, panting and whining and writhing in his grasp.

“You’re so desperate, honey… such a shameless cockwhore for me.”

“For you,” you repeated through your trance, “Bucky, ‘m close… keep touching me, please…”

He kept his thumb on your clit but gently slid one finger inside you, both of you gasping at the sensation (if for different reasons).

“So tight,” he hissed, already pulling it back out, “fuck, and just for one finger…”

“More, please,” you begged mindlessly.

“More? Sure you can take it?”

You bit down on your lip as you nodded, and he pushed a second finger in beside his first. He felt you struggling with it, both in your walls and in the way you winced a little, but you softly begged him to keep going so of course he couldn’t stop. You adjusted quickly, your wetness starting to run down his hand.

“Fuck me,” you whimpered, “now, please, can’t wait anymore.”

“Yes you can,” he encouraged, “and you will, cause I need to taste you first.”

Pulling his fingers out of you, he flipped you around again, finally kissing you the way he’d been dreaming of since he first saw you. It was intense but not too dominating— in spite of everything. It was a romantic sort of kiss, maybe too romantic for the situation (that being his cock out and hard and pressed against you, and his fingers covered in your arousal) but perfect nonetheless.

“That’s not what I thought you meant when you said you wanted to taste me,” you giggled when he pulled away.

“No, I meant it the other way,” he smiled, “I just wanted to do that first.”

He picked you up suddenly, making you gasp a bit, but knelt down to lay you on the floor pretty soon after. You looked up at him with wide eyes as he lifted your leg and kissed his way up. He could smell your need, and he worried it would drive him wild before he reached his destination.

Pulling your soaked panties aside, he realized he could probably come just from looking at you. “Such a gorgeous pussy,” he growled his praise, leaning down to plant a few more teasing kisses over the inside of your thighs. Finally, he started with one long lick, just like you had with him, but you weren’t so patient to tolerate it. Nearly instantly your fingers pulled his hair, clearly trying to guide him to tease you less, but he couldn’t be swayed to go easy on you.

“I hope you’re not forgetting who’s in charge,” he smiled hungrily.

“And what if I am?” you returned, clearly looking to get on his nerves so he’d get rough with you. He was happy to oblige.

Bucky sat up and loosened his tie, slipping it off of his neck with a smirk. "Now, this is 100% Venetian silk, so it should feel nice around your wrists," he cooed. You offered your hands willingly, and he got a chance to show off a few complex knots of his own. "Now be a good girl and keep those hands above your head, alright?"

You did as he asked, freeing him to hold your legs open as he devoured you, alternating between teasing your bud with the tip of his tongue, and fucking you with it.

"You taste like heaven, doll," he growled when he came up quickly, "and the way you moan when my tongue's inside you? I swear I could die happy right now."

"I wish you wouldn't though," you whimpered.

He laughed a bit before he got back to it, letting his tongue focus on your clit while he filled you with his fingers again. Your walls clenched down on him occasionally, and when it became more frequent just as your moans became louder, he knew you were close.

"Stop, stop," you sighed suddenly, pushing him away.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nervous he'd done something wrong.

"No I'm fine, I just… I don't want to come yet. I want you inside me first."

"And what about what I want, hm? What if I want to watch you come just from my tongue?" he offered instead, though he was definitely still very persuadable in this regard.

"I know you wanna fuck me, Bucky, don't make me wait any longer,” you moaned, your back arching up a little from the floor.

Not needing to be told twice, he flipped you onto your elbows and knees, making sure you could support yourself with bound wrists before letting you go. His hands running over your exposed ass and thighs made you shiver, and he smiled down at you. At this point, he was probably more desperate than you were, but he was doing a much better job of hiding it, even taking the time to reach up and undo a few of the buttons of his shirt, because wow suits are warm and not meant for his level of physical activity.

Still, he figured he had waited long enough— he needed to fuck you while he still had at least a shred of patience left. He was going to need it if he was going to give you time to adjust to him.

Holding his cock and rubbing it through your folds, he chuckled when you whined and dropped your head down in a pout. He loved watching your expression shift into a gasp as he pushed in.

He went slow, but he didn't stop either. He wanted to test you just a little. He wanted to stretch you open.

"Fuck," you cried, "god, you're so… you feel so…"

"Look in the mirror," he instructed coldly, although the coldness was just a front for the way he was holding himself back as your body swallowed him so beautifully.

You moaned again, higher-pitched and weak, just as he finally got all the way in. He waited until he felt your body relax a bit before he asked if it was okay for him to move yet. You answered with a quick nod, a breathy "please," and he didn't need any more encouragement.

It was probably too fast to start off with, but god, he'd been waiting so long to fuck you like this.

"Baby," he whispered, "you're so perfect."

He held you steady and thrusted deep, so deep that it made you gasp each time. You looked incredible, and you felt incredible, but the way you sounded was just… divine. He could never have imagined the beautiful way you would sound when he was bringing you pleasure like this. Having heard it, he wanted to make you sound like this as often as possible from now on. Technically he couldn’t even be sure he’d get another chance to, but surely sounds this perfect meant you had to be having a good time, right? Ideally a good enough time to call him again?

He was snapped back to focus when he saw your eyes flutter shut with pleasure.

"Don't look away from that mirror, honey," he growled, "don't close your eyes. Look how pretty you look like this."

He could tell you loved it from the way your channel fluttered and flexed.

"You like watching yourself get fucked, princess?"

"Yes," you sobbed as he grabbed your hips harder, hoping to leave a bruise, "it feels so good, Bucky, please don't stop!"

"I won't stop, pretty girl. Not until you cream on my cock," he grunted.

"Fuck, I'm close," you whined, "Bucky, I'm gonna come— oh god right there!"

And he was sure it couldn’t be fake from the way your body tightened and released so many times, the way you quivered and your breathing seemed to stop for a moment. Even though he could barely take it, he kept fucking you through it until you were shaking so violently that he worried about your health.

“You feel so goddamn good when you come, princess,” he moaned softly. “Tryin’ to milk my cock for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

You laughed a little, sounding exhausted, but as he kept fucking you he could feel how sensitive you had become. When he reached down to push your skirt back up to your waist after it had started to fall down a bit, he felt his own movements in your gut and it took so much not to lose his cool in that moment. Instead, he pulled your upper body into his so that you could see in the mirror the way your lower stomach was bulging a bit each time he pushed in all the way.

"F-fuck, Bucky," you whimpered.

"Anybody ever been that deep inside you before?"

"No, not even close," you moaned.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked gently, kissing up and down your neck slowly to match his lazy, teasing thrusts.

"A little," you admitted, "but it feels good. Don't stop."

He wasn’t so brutal with his thrusts, still deep but with a patient, measured pace. It staved off his orgasm a bit longer, and it made you moan all slow and throaty which was not better or worse than the needy, high-pitched moans, but enjoyably different. You didn’t sound as desperate anymore (probably because you’d already come), instead seeming relaxed and calm— if still arching your back and biting your lip nonetheless.

"I wanna come inside you," he whispered right against your ear; he could feel the way you shivered as a result.

"Please," you whimpered.

"Is that what you want? Wanna be full of my come?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, please Bucky I need it so bad!"

"Fuck, gonna fill you up so good, doll," he promised gruffly. "Want me to make you mine, beautiful?"

He knew it was a risky thing to say, but his risks had paid off so far, and he wasn't in his most cautious mood.

"Already yours, Bucky," you sighed, "I'm yours, please come in me…"

It hit him suddenly when you said that, and harder than he expected. He hadn't come like that in… he hadn't come like that ever. He preferred not to think about the sudden, wavering moan he let out in that moment because he wondered if it sounded unsexy, but thankfully his mind was distracted by the overwhelming sensation of his softening, sensitive cock still within you.

He managed to maneuver you in the way he needed as he pulled out, leaning you back into him and holding your legs open to the mirror in front of you.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart,” he instructed, his whisper a little labored as he was still catching his breath, “watch my come leak outta your pussy."

You seemed to be in awe of it, despite it being the obvious outcome of what had just happened. To be fair, he was in awe of it in a sense, too; a thick, slow stream of sticky white come dripping down from your swollen hole and onto the floor… it was mesmerizing.

Your body was limp in his arms as he finally allowed you to rest, your eyes falling shut as you melted into his embrace. He took a moment to untie your wrists, tossing the garment aside with an exhausted sigh. “Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily, apparently just to say his name.

“Was that… sort of what you were hoping for today?” he asked softly, kissing your temple.

“And more,” you giggled. “Oh my god, I… I don’t even know how to describe that… you’re so… fuck, I don’t know, my brain is totally jelly right now.”

“In a good way?”

“In the best way.”

He smiled, admiring your vacant-yet-pleased expression and feeling satisfied with his work. You turned over to lay your head on his chest, and he gladly draped his arms around you in response. Holding you like this felt so purely right, in a way so few things did to him. Funny enough, even just having fucked you on the floor and already holding you afterwards right now, he felt nervous again that he would say something wrong. You were a modern woman, after all, and maybe this was this ‘hook-up culture’ he kept hearing about.

“Was that true what you said, doll?” he asked gently, feeling you stir a little and slide a leg up to rest over his. “Did you mean it when you said that you were mine? Or was it just, you know, the heat of the moment…?”

You smiled a little, looking kind of embarrassed. “Um, yeah, I meant that… I’m yours, if you want me to be.”

He didn’t feel as guilty for feeling so possessive over you now. Clearly it was appreciated, in the right context. And he was now at least 75% sure that this wasn’t a hook-up. “Well, I’m yours, too,” he replied with a soft laugh, “whether you want me or not.”

“I want you,” you confirmed.

You laid in silence together for some unknowable amount of time, but it was a purely unawkward silence. A peaceful silence, and one filled with possibilities, but not uncomfortable. Maybe it was uncomfortable in the sense that the carpet, while still being very plushy and expensive, was still the floor and not as forgiving as a bed… but it was completely worth it.

Part of him feared to ruin the moment by speaking, but much more of him feared that you would slip out of his grasp if he didn’t say something. "This may be the wrong time to ask this— or maybe just the wrong order to do this stuff in— but I wanted to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner sometime."

You laughed, but cuddled deeper into his chest. "Um, yeah, that would be nice."

"I just hope I'll find something nice to wear," he grinned.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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makeste · 3 years

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save no matter what.

so this is going to ultimately be a post about Deku. however, if you’ll be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to start things off by making a point about Bakugou. specifically, I’d like to point out that back in the day before this kid got Character Development no Jutsu’d, people weren’t always so inclined to view his attitude towards winning in the best light. which is a nice way of saying that he came off as unhealthily obsessed, not to mention more than a little unhinged.

sorry for the image spam btw, I just think they’re funny. he’s so demented lmao. KILL DIE CRUSH.

anyway so we’re gonna do the rest of this below a cut before it gets long. but I promise it really is a Deku post lol. don’t let the pre-readmore stuff fool you. I PROMISE THERE IS A POINT, AND WE WILL GET TO IT.

anyway! so yeah, we really didn’t have the best impression of Bakugou’s whole winning fixation at the beginning there. and I mean, it’s not like we had the best impression of Bakugou himself at the start of things either. we were already primed from the very first chapter to see this kid as an adversary to Izuku. the story goes out of its way to paint him in pretty much the worst light possible. which is why what happens next is so interesting.

because one might see all this and think, “holy heck, this kid is off the shits, somebody needs to set him straight pronto and get it into his head that winning isn’t everything.” because that’s almost the natural conclusion to draw. “look at this kid, he doesn’t care about helping other people at all, all he cares about is winning, someone needs to come along and show him that he’s got it backwards.”

except that’s not what happens, is it? because this is where, much to my delight, Horikoshi came along and started subverting expectations. because not only is Katsuki not rebuked for being so obsessed with winning -- it’s pretty much the exact opposite.

the one and only time Deku ever straight up hands Katsuki’s ass to him is when he says he doesn’t want to win. Deku is IMMEDIATELY all, “THE FUCK KIND OF BULLSHIT DID I JUST HEAR OUT OF YOUR TRASH MOUTH,” and that’s when he sets him straight.

the important people in Katsuki’s life never tell him, “hey you need to cool it with the whole winning thing.” All Might and Aizawa never scold him for it, or tell him that he shouldn’t try with everything he has to win, or that wanting to win is a bad thing. on the contrary, they both commend him for it. and ultimately, he’s told by All Might that this desire is actually one of the two fundamental qualities that every great hero needs.

he completely turns the whole thing on its head. not only is it not a bad thing, it’s actually crucial. essential. because what the desire to win really is, at its core, is tenacity. it’s the fiercest kind of determination. it’s not something he should be ashamed of; it’s something that sets him apart, something that makes him worthy. he is someone who refuses to back down no matter what. refuses to give up, no matter what. and this quality, which is initially misunderstood by some to the point where even the villains mistakenly take him for one of their own in the making, is eventually validated to the fullest degree by the person that Katsuki looks up to the most. his desire to win goes from being this awkward “son wtf are you doing” thing to being one of the core philosophies of the series. and ever since then, we pretty much don’t question it.

so why do I bring this up now? well, the answer to that can basically be summed up in one word.

“parallels.”

so here’s the thing. there’s been a lot of talk lately about Deku’s ridiculous, reckless, and absurdly self-destructive desire to save others while having little to no regard for himself. currently he’s lying in a hospital bed, having broken approximately 218 out of the 206 bones in his little hero body (yes, somewhere along the way he found an additional dozen bones to break). it is worrying. it is Concerning. and it’s raised a lot of questions, such as “???” and “wtf is this idiot doing.”

and a lot of people have been pretty critical of him! this is, of course, an ongoing thing with this child, and people have been giving him grief over it going as far back as chapter 6.

while others have been bothered by it going even further back than that.

and I’ve seen these sentiments being echoed pretty frequently in the fandom as well. and there are basically two talking points that I want to address here. the first is the idea that Deku’s aggressive brand of selflessness stems from an inherent lack of self-worth. in other words, because he prioritizes other people’s safety and well-being above his own, and is willing to go to such drastic lengths to save them, there’s this feeling that he doesn’t value himself enough, that he must not care about himself.

but I don’t think that’s quite it. let’s go back to those parallels first, though. let’s take another look at Kacchan.

what I mainly want to call attention to is the intensity here. again, it’s something that at first strikes most readers as being absurdly over the top. the truth is, I think a lot of people simply can’t relate to it. Katsuki cares about winning with a ferocity and a fervor that most people, for better or worse, simply don’t have. I certainly don’t, lol.

but he does. to him it’s not a shallow, superficial thing at all. it’s important to him, perhaps the most important thing. I think we often talk about it in terms of it being a desire, but imo a more accurate way to define it is not as a want, but as a need. in other words, it’s the opposite of the question “what is it this character wants” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live without”)? instead, it’s a question of “what is it they don’t want” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live with”)?

and in Katsuki’s case, the thing he can’t live with is feeling like he hasn’t tried his absolute best. he needs to give his all in everything he does. he wants to win, but winning just on its own is not enough.

it has to be earned. he has to prove to himself and to everyone else that he deserves it. anything less than that is unacceptable. anything less than that, and he can’t be at ease. he can’t be settled. he can’t rest. and so he puts everything he has into winning, even if it means going to extremes. because it’s that important to him.

it’s something that’s at times alarming and even disturbing for others to witness. but nonetheless, it’s a part of who he is, and at the end of the day his teachers accept that, and the story acknowledges that it’s his greatest strength.

so now, to finally bring this back around to Deku, this is what I keep seeing in his character as well. only in his case, the thing he can’t live with is knowing that he didn’t do everything he possibly could to save someone. or to put it another way, Deku, at his core, is someone who cannot rest until he knows that everyone is safe. simple as that. it’s not just a desire to protect people; it’s a need. he needs to know that everyone is safe and protected. otherwise he can’t be at ease. it’s no different from how normal, everyday people aren’t able to feel at ease unless they know that they are safe and that their loved ones are safe. it’s just that in Deku’s case, this same fundamental need extends to everyone, not just himself and his friends and family. everyone. he can’t live with himself knowing that someone was in trouble, and he had the ability to do something to help, but didn’t. and so, if you literally can’t live with not doing something, you basically have no choice but to do it.

and this is what in my opinion defines Deku’s character. Kacchan, in trying to understand it, noted that Deku doesn’t seem to take himself into account. but I think OFA Prime summed it up a little more accurately. “he rages for the sake of others. for them, he does his best until he can do no more. this young man is possessed by a drive to save others that eclipses all common understanding.”

so yeah. it’s not that he doesn’t care about himself at all, it’s that he cares about others even more. he has that same intensity and ferocity towards saving people that Katsuki has towards winning. and just as it was difficult at first for fans to understand Katsuki’s feelings, it’s hard to fathom the sheer depth of that “save everyone” feeling that compels Deku to break his own body in that pursuit. it’s scary, not to mention extremely destructive and dangerous. and so really, it was almost inevitable that there would be some backlash.

but just like Katsuki’s desire to win was ultimately validated in the end, I think Deku’s desire to save others will be as well. in fact it already is being validated, for starters by the other denizens of OFA, led by Lil Bro as mentioned above. let’s go back for a moment to that same scene.

here we get a huge hint that “Deku gets taken down a notch and chewed out and scolded for his recklessness” is not, in fact, the direction that the story is going in. because in general, when the main villain starts mocking the hero and saying that they’ve done something wrong, that’s a very good sign that said hero is actually on the exact right track. like, no offense, but as far as character critiques go, AFO is probably the least qualified person in the entire manga to start offering those up lol. so yeah. if AFO is denouncing Deku for something, and OFA Prime is praising him for that exact same thing, I think it’s safe to say that means he is in fact doing something very, very right.

“okay but makeste, he nearly got himself killed and broke all of his arms AND legs and is now lying in a fucking coma,” you say, gesturing emphatically to the last page of chapter 298. “so I mean, that’s all well and good that Wonder Boy has the best of intentions and all that, but at the end of the day he’s only one kid. he literally can’t save everyone, and if he pulls one or two more stunts like this, he’s going to get himself killed.”

and okay, but this here is the other talking point that I wanted to address. because it’s true, Deku does need to learn a specific lesson here. but that lesson is NOT that he can’t save everyone. this is a superhero story, guys -- “you can’t save everyone” is never going to be the underlying message, ever. it’s the OPPOSITE of the message. Deku is the hero because he tries to save everyone. because he doesn’t give up on saving people no matter what. that is literally the core of the story. it has been since the very first chapter.

so then what is it that Deku actually needs to learn here? well, once again, it all comes back to those parallels.

btw, I really just love how he’s carrying Katsuki there lol. he’s just so done with him.

but anyway. so, the final exam arc. Katsuki initially wants to win at all costs -- but there’s a hitch. because even though he wants to win, he refuses to do so while working with Deku. enter Deku’s left hook, and one impromptu Rival Encouragement Speech later, our boy has thankfully come to his senses.

but here’s the point -- the lesson here wasn’t “you can’t always win.” rather, the lesson that Katsuki needed to learn was that you can’t always win alone.

yeah. so now you can see what I’m getting at here.

“...on your own.”

that’s the key. this is the one and only thing that Deku actually needs to get into his head. wanting to save everyone is fine! his will to save others has never been a weakness -- it’s been the most admirable thing about him from day one. it’s what makes him strong. it’s why All Might chose him. it’s why OFA has chosen him. it’s what sets him apart, and I firmly believe it’s what will ultimately help him save the day and defeat AFO as well. because what other character would look at Shigaraki Tomura, the person who just impaled his friend and destroyed an entire city, and instinctively reach out a hand to try and save him? and if you don’t think that’s going to wind up being key to the final battle, you and I have very different ideas about this series’ endgame.

Deku’s determination to save everyone isn’t arrogance or futility. it is and always has been his greatest strength. but what he’s missing now, what he needs to learn, is simply to trust. y’all might have seen that theory about the Fourth’s quirk, and why All Might was so hesitant to tell Deku about it. basically, the theory (which is based on an attempted translation of the crossed-out parts of All Might’s OFA notebook) goes that the Spidey Sense was so overwhelming that the Fourth -- whose cause of death was one of the things crossed out -- eventually couldn’t bear it, and went to live alone in the middle of the woods somewhere. and possibly wound up killing himself?? all of which is just speculation right now of course. but it makes sense. and it would certainly explain why All Might, being all too aware of Deku’s self-destructive tendencies, would keep that from him.

but if this is the case, that means it’s clear that the Fourth’s solution didn’t work. “give up and accept that you can’t save everyone” clearly is NOT the answer to be had here.

the answer is trust. trust that his fellow heroes have his back. trust that they’ll be able to help him reach the people he’s not able to reach on his own. trust that they can work together to save everyone. that he doesn’t have to rest the entire world on his shoulders alone.

it’s the one lesson that All Might, his predecessor and his teacher, never learned himself until it was too late. but of course, All Might never had a prickly and determined rival who was ready to step in and deal out some tough love if need be. a rival who, perhaps, just might soon get a chance to repay an old favor.

“I don’t wanna hear you say you can’t save someone.”

I’m just saying. just as Deku has been watching Katsuki all this time, and admiring his determination to win, and emulating it himself, so has Katsuki recently begun to emulate Deku’s determination to save others. we’ve seen it not just in his recent act of self-sacrifice, but even in little things like his habits and tricks of speech. just like Katsuki is Deku’s image of victory, Deku is becoming Katsuki’s image of saving others.

and so I’ll bet you anything that if Deku ever starts to doubt himself, or starts feeling like his dream and desires are futile, Kacchan will be there to set him straight with a good old fashioned Rival Encouragement Speech of his own. possibly with his own left hook to match, though his left shoulder is currently out of sorts atm so he might need to modify that approach a little bit. but the point is, he’ll be there. and he will not allow Deku to give up on himself. he will be there to remind him that he doesn’t have to face this alone.

so yeah! finally managed to wrap up my giant Deku meta which I’ve been working on for ages and rewritten like fifteen times lmao. just in time for this to be relevant for all of a day, probably, depending on what happens once chapter 279 drops lol. but yeah. tl;dr, local boy tries to do too much, but his heart is in the right place, and hopefully all he really needs is a good pep talk from his tsundere bff to set him to rights again. r.i.p. to the Fourth, but he’s different.

#bnha 298 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #bakudeku #bnha meta #deku meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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imagine-it-to-be-true · 3 years

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Fix You - Caius Volturi x FemOC Three Shot: Part 1

Hey guys! Thanks so much for reading. Hope you like the one shot. I do take requests! Please have a look at my list of characters, and the rules. Feel free to reach out.

Notes about the One Shot:

Summary: As Caius walked around the streets of Volterra, he came across a girl being assaulted and badly injured. He couldn't explain the pull he had towards her, but all he knew was that he needed to save her. Caius Volturi x Fem!OC. Mentions of blood, injury and death. Nothing too gruesome though. Also posted on my Fanfiction page.

Word count: 2679

Firstly, I don’t own Twilight, the Volturi, or the image used.

I sincerely apologize for my Italian and Greek phrases; I don’t speak a word of the languages and was at the mercy of Google Translate.

Caius’ wife Athenodora does not exist.

Also, imagine him how you want but I much preferred his appearance in New Moon, so that’s how I described him.

~ Enjoy :)

Cloud cover in Volterra was a rare sight. Most days the sun shone brightly, making the town not particularly an ideal place for vampires. Yet here they were, the powerful three, the ancient kings who were tasked with up-keeping and enforcing secrecy of the vampire world, in a town where they remained inside the walls of the Volturi Castle. Caius often wondered why the coven chose to remain there, and not move to a less sunny place. A lack of opportunities for outings meant that he was falling intellectually behind. One need not look further than his clothes, not to mention his mentality to see he was not one for modernity. Not that he cared. Humans and their achievements were so minuscule in his eyes. Nevertheless, he enjoyed the opportunity to venture out into the town, feel the cool breeze on cloudy days like today and observe the lesser kind. It was remarkable for him how the world changed since his childhood in Ancient Greece, yet the scape of Volterra harked back to it with its old buildings.

Caius was lonely. He was angry and cruel; many would even say sadistic. But no, the last part was not true. After over 3000 years of living alone, never aging, never moving forward, being forced to hide himself, and never seizing to hunger, it’s no surprise that one would become angry. But he was not a sadist. He did not enjoy the pain of others. He fed only when he could no longer contain his thirst, not over-indulging himself. But he understood the need for justice, and was not tolerant when punishment was due. This was often mistaken for sadism.

Volterra was extra busy lately due to an overwhelming influx in tourism. One could no longer walk in peace. The pushing and shoving of the crowded streets became too much for Caius. He looked around him, and noticed a less busy street to his right. The more he followed, the less people were there. He kept going until he was left alone, in peace, and stopped, and leaned his back against the wall, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, exhaling through his mouth. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. And that is when he heard it.

From his right, came a feminine scream. It snapped Caius out of his thoughts. It sounded desperate, and then quieted down before he heard the female’s voice again, yelling in English with an American accent, “PLEASE! Somebody help me!” In one swift motion, Caius pushed himself from the wall and walked towards the pleas. He rounded a corner and between two buildings, there was a thin, dark alleyway. It was there that he found the source of the commotion.

A tall, heavy-built balding man had a significantly smaller female pinned up against the wall with his body. His left hand grasped her around the neck, while the other clutched a gun to her head. Caius spoke Italian - one of the many languages he’s mastered - so he understood plainly the filth coming out of the lowlife’s mouth as he barked at the poor girl. She, however, was clueless and sobbing, begging him to leave her.

In the split moment that he observed the scene, Caius’ eyes landed on the female. She was small, about 5”2, looked to be in her early twenties and very slim. Her hair was golden blonde, long and fell in thick, luscious curls down her back. She did not appear to be wearing much makeup, yet her eyebrows were naturally prominent and neat, and her lips were full, petal pink in colour. But it was her eyes which Caius noticed immediately. They were large and the most captivating colour: a mix of emerald and sapphire. It was as if staring into the waters of a deep, stormy ocean. However, when they met his eyes, they were full of terror. She quieted her struggle and looked at him, as if calmed by his presence, mentally begging him to save her.

Typically, Caius did not give two thoughts about humans. Yet this time was different. The girl before him stirred something inside of his frozen ancient heart. His eyes shifted from the girl and landed on the lowlife.

“Togli le mani da lei, feccia.” (Get your hands off her, Scum.) he snarled.

The man jumped in surprise and turned towards Caius. When he saw him, the lowlife sneered. Compared to him, Caius did not look all that threatening. He was tall and well-built, but thinner than the scum. His fashion choices didn’t help either. His near-white blonde hair combed to perfection and pushed behind his ears. He wore a blood-red dress shirt, paired with a black blazer and black dress pants, topped off with a silky red scarf. He looked like an escaped runway model, not a man that could do damage.

The man Caius addressed continued sneering and chuckling.

“Cosa hai intenzione di fare al riguardo, bel ragazzo?” (What are you going to do about it, pretty boy?)

Caius took a large step forward and retorted, “Strapparti la testa e bere il tuo sangue è divertente?” (Does ripping your head off and drinking your blood sound like fun?)

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise at the viciousness, but still obviously not taking the situation seriously. He laughed and turned back to the girl.

“Vedi, bella ragazza? Sta cercando di mettersi in mostra per te. Ma è solo un ragazzo. Lascia che ti mostri cosa fanno gli uomini.” (You see, pretty girl? He's trying to show off for you. But he's just a boy. Let me show you what men do.)

Before Caius had a chance to comprehend or react, within a fraction of a second, the gun pressed against the girl’s temple was lowered. The scum aimed it at her stomach and shot twice. She screamed in pain, and dropped to the ground, gasping.

Caius took a second longer than normal to realize what had just unfolded. The man had the gun pointed at him now. He aimed at his chest and fired. When Caius was hit, he did nothing but stand there. Then came the second shot and to the scum’s surprise, he did not drop. A smirk began to form on the vampire’s face, before he simply said, “Avresti dovuto scappare quando ne avevi la possibilità.” (You should have ran when you had the chance.)

As the man continued pointlessly shooting at Caius, the vampire closed the distance between them in less than a second. He grasped the man’s neck with his right hand and pressed him up against the wall, lifting him up with one arm. The man squirmed and groaned, futilely attempting to free himself. Caius didn’t enjoy hurting people. But this time was different. He snapped the man’s neck and threw him down, like discarded trash. He took a breath and turned to the girl on the ground.

She was no longer making sounds nor moving, but lay there motionless, face down on the ground. Caius could see a large red spot in her stomach area, with blood seeping through the thin fabric of her white summer dress, her blonde curls hanging like closed curtains over her face. Caius leaned down, extending a hand to gently move them aside. He pushed the curls behind her ear, running his knuckles down her soft cheek. Those beautiful storm eyes were closed.

“Can you hear me?” He whispered to her, but she did not stir.

Caius felt a deep pain in the pit of his stomach, and a pressure rising up to his throat. He felt anger, rage, but most prominently sorrow. He had this feeling like he never wanted anything more in his life than for her to look at him and say she was alright. The situation was not made easier by the fact that her deliciously smelling blood was pooling more and more.

Quickly, he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his iPhone. Alec had gifted it to him the year before, and this was the first time he’d use it. He couldn’t figure out the damned thing; books and scripts were more useful anyway. With some effort, he found the number he was looking for in his contacts and dialled it. The ringing seemed to go on for ages, until finally…

“Dr. Carlisle Cullen speaking.”

“Cullen. You are speaking to Caius.” He barked into the phone. A silence followed before Carlisle hesitantly responded, a hint of fear in his voice at what the Volturi king might want.

“Lord Caius. I was not expecting you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am with a human. She was shot with a gun in her stomach twice. There is a significant amount of blood. She is not responding to me. Her eyes are closed and she is not moving. What shall I do?” He spoke in a hard, fact-based tone.

“Well Caius, it sounds like she might be dead…” before Carlisle could finish his thought, Caius cut him off.

“You are foolish to think that I would waste my precious time calling you to hear something so unacceptable. Tell me how to fix her!”

“Okay, I’m not sure if she can be. But let’s try. I need you to put the phone on speaker.”

“What is that?! Talk quickly Cullen, her bleeding has not seized!”

“Okay, Caius, you see the small picture of a loudspeaker on your phone? Push it.”

Caius did as he was told. “Now what?”

“Put the phone down on the ground. I need you to turn her on her back. GENTLY! Don’t forget you’re a lot stronger than her.”

Caius gently pushed the girl’s shoulders and was able to turn her on her back, grabbing her head so it did not hit the concrete. It was then that the significance of the wound became apparent, as did the scent of her blood. It became nearly too much for the vampire. He was close to damning it all and indulging in her sweet taste. But then he looked at her perfect face. How he longed to see those beautiful eyes again.

In a struggling voice, he spoke, “Alright, it is done.”

“Now, take your index and middle finger and push both to her neck, under her chin, on the side of her throat. You should feel her heartbeat if she’s alive.”

Caius did as he was told, but initially could feel nothing. After a few failed attempts, he hung his head. Just as he was about to remove his fingers, he felt it. So faint and tiny, but it was there.

“I feel it! It is very faint! But I feel it.”

Carlisle waited a moment before speaking. “Can you describe the wounds to me? Where are they specifically?”

“They are both in the same place. One is at the base of her ribs to the left, and the second is just under it.”

Carlisle sighed and softly spoke, “Caius. She’s not going to make it. She’s on her last few breaths now, and we can prolong her suffering, but we can’t-“.

“No!” Caius cut him off, “She will not die. There must be something to be done!”

“Well… you could always change her.”

Caius let out a breath. He would not wish his own endless existence on anyone. Not to mention the unbelievably excruciating pain of the process. After 3000 years, there was one thing he remembered with vivid accuracy: his own change. But at the same time, he was in a panic. He was not sure what it was, but the thought of her dying was destroying him inside.

He swallowed and spoke in a gentler voice to Carlisle, “Is there any way to manage her pain during the change?”

“Morphine. It needs to be injected before the venom. Give it 5 minutes to take effect and then change her.”

“Thank you,” Caius whispered before hanging up.

He immediately gathered the woman into his arms, lifting her up with ease, and began running back to the castle. He made it in a matter of minutes, storming through the doors of the great gathering hall, where Aro and Marcus were speaking to Jane. Immediately, all eyes were on Caius and the little bundle in his arms.

“Brother,” greeted Aro with his child-like smile, “you came home with takeout, I see,” he cackled.

“No! Do not approach me now brother. I wish to change her, and so it will be. No one comes near her!” Caius exclaimed. His two fellow kings looked at each other, befuddled. “Jane,” Caius turned to her, “find me a shot of morphine immediately and bring it to my chambers.” With this, he stormed out of the hall.

Aro, with a confused look on his face, took a step to follow, only to be held back by Marcus. “He cannot just bring some random off the street and claim her as his own!” He exclaimed, but Marcus shook his head and smiled.

“I felt their bond. He has bound himself to her. Neither might realize this yet, but they are mated. She is his now.”

———

Caius rushed her to his room. He gently placed her on his bed, which he hadn’t used in years for obvious reasons. As he laid her down, the girl began to gain consciousness. She began feeling the pain of her injuries. Tears started fall down her cheeks and she softly, weakly moaned in pain.

Caius sat down next to her, brushing her tears away with his thumb, gently pushing her hair back away from her face.

“Shh, it’s alright. Breathe.” She seemed to respond to this by attempting to open her eyes, yet not having enough energy to do so. Caius was dying inside, seeing her suffer. He couldn’t explain why. This was the first time in 3000 that he cared so deeply about the well-being of anyone, let alone a weak human.

“Breathe for me. That’s it. You’re alright.” He whispered. She tried, but couldn’t. She attempted to say something along the lines of “I don’t want to die,” but was only emitting squeaks.

“Shhh, don’t talk. He’s gone, I’ve got you. There is not a place in the world safer than here with me.”

Just then, Jane burst through Caius’ doors with a large syringe filled with clear liquid. She quickly handed it to Caius and stepped back, lingering. Caius turned to her and harshly barked, “Leave!” She bowed and turned on her heels, heading out the door.

The girl had opened her eyes briefly and saw the large syringe. This frightened her, and she attempted to cower away. Caius returned his attention to her.

“Shhhh. Don’t be afraid. This will help you stop hurting. I will fix this. I will fix you,” As he spoke those words, a tear formed in his own eyes and rolled down his cheek. He was about to change her. Was it really fixing her, or was he selfishly wishing she would fix him? Give him companionship he so longed for? He didn’t care. He took the syringe and injected the morphine into her quickly, being as gentle as he could. Then, he waited. He needed her to stop crying. This would indicate the pain was gone and the morphine had taken effect. He held her hand, whispering sweet nothings to her. When she began quieting, he gently asked her.

“What is your name, omorfiá mou?” (My beauty), the last part in his native Greek.

She gasped and whispered, “Andromeda.”

Caius smiled and thought about how fitting the name was. The pain was gone now. He turned to her and brushed her hair out of her face.

“Close your eyes, my beauty.” He gently brushed her hair back away from her neck. Leaning down, he brushed his lips on her ear, whispering “do not be afraid. You will live forever. You are mine now, and I will never let anything hurt you again.”

With that, he sunk his teeth into her soft skin, and the journey to her transformation began.

#twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #volturi #caius #caius volturi #one shot #hurt comfort #romance #caius volturi imagine #vampire

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bunnys-beetlejuice-blog · 3 years

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some kind of loud, attention grabbing noise that lets you know ITS FIC TIME, BABYYYYY you could start here, but the context... the build up.. the hours of worldcrafting, you'd miss it all... so start here, instead, then circle back.

These last two weeks have actually been nice. She and Adam had both mutually agreed that, despite not being the kind of person either of them would intentionally seek out on their own, Beetlejuice (she still has a hard time believing that’s what BJ stands for, but okay,) is fun. Not just fun, but funny, and seemingly often in the mood to laugh, in that overblown, Vincent Price horror movie way he does, which earns him multiple shushes in the library.

Drama club has gotten better. Barbara has a private theory that what most people need is to just get used to BJ, to spend enough time with him that he stops looking like an outsider, and it’s coming true, slowly, but finally. BJ had mentioned off-handedly he played ukulele, and when the other kids had expressed interest, he’d brought it with him the next day... Though she’s not quite sure where he kept it, the entire day. She’s seen that mess of a locker he’s got. She doubts it fits in there. And it can’t have been in his backpack, either, because every time he sets it down, she can hear what sounds like glass and rocks settling. She’s even seen him, after school, pick up a rock and shove it in one of the pockets. She has to assume his bag weighs a hundred pounds, or so.

His instrument, almost predictably, was painted with black and white stripes, but he’d played the little thing like a pro. She had never taken him for someone who enjoyed the mellow, soft sounds the ukulele was known for, but clearly, she doesn’t know enough about the boy. Miss Larson, the drama instructor, had clapped, and learned that BJ could read music, too. “Maybe while we’re practicing, you can accompany us?” She’d asked, clearly trying to work a way into getting more participation out of their newest member. BJ had been flustered, but had agreed, easily.

The wildest thing had been hearing him sing. They’d moved from being in the drama room, most days, to being in the auditorium, working on lines and practicing their singing. No one’s been officially cast, yet, but it’s mostly to get used to being on stage. Miss Larson had insisted that BJ sing a few lines for them, and he’d sort of made a face, ducked backstage, and had appeared with his ukulele in hand. Barbara didn’t even know he’d put it back there.

“Uh, so, sing what?” He’d shuffled awkwardly, and Miss Larson had smiled. “Whatever you feel,” to which BJ just snorted, and rolled his eyes, but then he plucked a few notes on his ukulele, and started to sing.

“There’s a camp, there’s a camp, by the frozen lake, wa wa ooh. With every belly starving and every finger numb, but up on the hill there’s a red, red rum, somebody’s always cooking something in the lean-to.”

It wasn't a song she’d recognized, but it was clearly morbid. She shouldn’t have expected anything different. The real focal point was his voice, his strange, scratchy pitch, because despite sounding like he gargles sandpaper and nails, he’s got a strong, clear tone, one that carries well, and as he sings, he doesn’t hit a single sour note. She also noted that his enunciation is much clearer when he’s singing, oddly enough. He sang as much as he decided he needed to, and clung to his ukelele as he finished, like a lifeline. “So. Yeah.” He’d said, and then flinched when the clapping started, from all members present, but especially her and Adam. He’d stood looking around at them all, utterly baffled.

“You didn’t tell us you would sing!” Jeremiah, the student director, was the one who looked the most enthused, and BJ balked. “Didn’t think it mattered. M’just gonna be a stagehand.. Right?”

“Maybe he could play the dentist?” Miss Larson had looked at Jeremiah, and they’d begun talking amongst themselves, ignoring him, as he strummed nervously at his instrument.

“Oh, wait, check this out!”

And he sings again, another verse from that same, oddly morbid song, which she’d started to pick up is definitely about cannibals, but his voice is.. Different. The grit is gone. It’s like he’d ran his vocal cords under some hot soapy water, and washed all the grime and gravel out of them, because he sang like an angel, like a normal person, and then, suddenly, devolved into a hacking cough, doubled over.

“Sorry, can only do that so long. Hurts my throat,” he said, after a moment, all the grit back in his voice. He waited. There had been a soft laugh, and then it grew louder, coming from each of the members watching him in turn, because the idea that speaking like THAT somehow hurts, and his normal tone doesn’t, is just so outrageous and silly, and he’d stood there proudly, grinning in that way he does, because his joke had landed, and he might, for the first time since he was forced into their club, be enjoying himself.

So, yes. The last few weeks have been good. Very good.

All that club progress aside, looking back makes her a little flustered, because at this point, she’s gotten the hint that he’s not gay. What he is, is incredibly flirty, not only with Adam but with her, and she finds herself... enjoying it. He keeps his ukulele tucked into the bottom of the cart in the library, and sometimes, when he’s certain he won’t be interrupted, he grabs it and sings little songs about them, laying on top of the cart like a drunk lounge singer on a piano, as she or Adam wheel it along. The songs are made up on the spot tunes that often start dirty, and end sincere, like he can’t even help it. It’s embarrassing, and endearing, and just very… Beetlejuice.

There’s just the problem lingering overhead, the one she’s desperate to solve, of Kevin. BJ doesn’t talk about him, abruptly changes the subject when she tries, or just goes silent, and gives her a hard glare with those amber eyes, which is the worst of the three options, because silence on him is unnerving. He can do this thing where he goes deathly still, and she swears he doesn’t even breathe, just stands there, totally unmoving, like a corpse.

She thinks if she could just go to his house, and talk to his mother, she might get a better understanding of the entire situation, but despite him inviting them, he’s never followed up, and both Adam and herself are too polite to push.. Directly. But then, he doesn’t show up that day, not for library duty and not for drama club, and she makes the decision for him, that today is the day they’ll be coming over. She gets his address out of the guidance counselor, easily. “It’s so sweet you two want to go check up on him,” Mrs. Birch says, sliding his address across her desk to Barbara. “I knew the drama club would be a good fit for him! He’s already making friends!”

Adam’s mom is nice enough to drop them off, and Adam, adorable, sweet Adam, stares delighted at the house, as they walk up the front steps. “It’s a tudor!” he tells her, and she sort of nods, not really knowing exactly what that means. “I’ve never seen one painted black and white, before. Usually those accents are a natural wood color,” and she rings the bell, as he goes on. The outside of the house matches BJ’s stripes, and she wonders if that’s coincidence, or if his parents just really, really love him. The door swings open, and then a chubby blur jumps away from their line of sight, startling her from her thoughts. “Beetlejuice?” Adam calls, concerned, and it takes a moment for their friend to reappear in the doorway, with a croaked out, “Sup?”

He looks terrible. He always looks a little terrible, as mean as that is to say, too pale and with purple spots under his eyes she chalks up to exhaustion, but he looks worse, today. It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d actually be sick.

“We just wanted to come by and see if you were okay,” she tells him, and BJ cocks his head so far to the side, he looks like he might fall over. “Why?” “Because.. We’re your friends,” Adam says, cautiously, which causes BJ to stare down at the checkered entryway tile.

“Oh.” He packs a lot of emotion into that little noise.

“Can we come in?” She asks, and he doesn’t look sure, rubbing at the back of his neck, but then next to him, in the doorway, appears what must be Mrs. Deetz. She’s on the tall side, slim, with blonde hair past her shoulders, and she’s wearing all black with lace accents. Even her stud earrings and the rings on her fingers are that same dark hue.

“Well, hello! BJ, invite your friends in!” She urges him, and then, to them asks, “You kids hungry? We’re just sitting down to dinner. It’s grilled cheese tower night,” and then she turns, and leaves them there, like that needs no explanation.

BJ fidgets a moment, but relents. “Come in, I guess,” he moves aside, and Adam and Barbara take a collective step into the Deetz household. The house is dark, not for lack of light, but for lack of color. The walls are paneling which Adam, delighted, says must be original, but they’ve been stained a dark shade of coffee, and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. When she does, she takes in how strangely eerie the place is. It’s less like someone’s home and more like a haunted house ride.

“Oh, you guys haven't taken down the Halloween décor, yet?” Adam asks, noting a cracked vase full of black roses on a side table as they follow BJ further in, and BJ snorts. “That crap? It's up in th’ attack. This is what passes for normal around here.” Barbara stops to stare at a picture of a distorted figure cannibalizing a smaller one. “Saturn Devouring His Son,” BJ says, briefly putting on a voice like a tour guide, high pitched and peppy, and both she and Adam wince. “What’s with you and cannibalism?” she asks, which only earns her that haunted laugh in response.

The kitchen, at least, looks a little more normal and bright, but Barbara learns quickly that’s not to be trusted, because sitting on the counter is what looks to be a lasagna made from sandwiches and sauce. “You guys are here on a night Emily had to cook. Bad luck,” BJ tells them, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s talking about his mother. Does he use her first name?

Emily, or, Mrs. Deetz, her mind corrects politely, busies herself with dishing them both a plate. “So, you kids must be.. Adam and Barbara,” she says, knowingly, and BJ, perhaps embarrassed, shuffles his bare feet at nothing. He’s been talking to his mom about them… aww. She notices then that he’s in his pajamas, which are, like everything else he wears, eccentric. He looks cute. She realizes she’s staring, and BJ catches her eye, and wiggles his eyebrows at her. Oh, god.

“We’re sorry for dropping by unannounced, Mrs. Deetz,” Adam says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Mrs. Deetz waives that off. “It’s totally fine. BJ’s never taken a sick day, before, I bet you probably thought he was faking. You kids can call me Emily. And that, of course, is Lydia.” She gestures to the nine year old scrutinizing them from the kitchen table.

“Hello again,” Barbara says, and Lydia gives her a smile, at least, but it's wary, it’s very, “I’ve got my eyes on you.” It’s strange to see from a little kid.

They all sit down to eat, all five of them, at the kitchen table, she and Adam settled across from BJ and Lydia. Adam squints, trying to read what’s on the other boy’s shirt. “What does that say?” he asks, and BJ glances down, and pulls the top taught, to make it easier to read. “Least exciting hole I’ve ever been in,” both boys say, at the same time. “Grand Canyon National Park.” Barbara and Adam both blush at that, and Mrs.. Emily, Emily just laughs. Lydia looks annoyed. “No one will explain to me what that means,” she tells Barbara, leaning closer to her, and almost looking hopeful. Barbara avoids that look. “It’s a dirty joke,” is all she says, and Lydia, clearly not satisfied, just takes a bite of her grilled cheese abomination. “Chuck hates this shirt,” BJ tells them. “Chuck?” “Chuck, Chuckster, Chuckles, Charles.. My dad,” he grates out. Barbara can’t imagine calling her father by his first name. She’d be in a world of trouble for being “disrespectful,” if she tried. “Is Mr. Deetz home?” Adam asks, and Lydia is the one to reply, mouth still a little too full.

“He’s at the office. He’s always working so fucking late,” Lydia says, and then lets it settle in the air, like she’s waiting for something. Barbara balks, and it feels like her eyes are bulging out of her head, because she’s never heard that kind of language from a nine year old. She glances at Emily nervously, waiting for her to blow up, to be angry, but Emily just seems to be in deep thought.

“I dunno about that one, Lyds,” Mrs. Deetz finally says, and Lydia puffs up her chest and tries again. “He’s always working so god damn late?” She looks to her mother, and Emily, finger on her chin, nods. “Yeah, alright. I hereby decree that Lydia Deetz, at the age of nine and a half, is allowed to say god damn.” Lydia pumps her fist and then takes another huge mouthful of grilled cheese casserole. “Bout fuckin’ time,” BJ grunts. Barbara thinks the Deetz family might all be whack jobs. there's more, a lot more, but tumblr can't handle it all, so read this chapter in full over on Ao3!

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #beetlejuice the musical #goldenrat #beetlelands #barbara maitland #adam maitland #lydia deetz #emily deetz

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helpimstuckhere · 4 years

Text

PART II

+chapter 22 analysis

(and don’t worry you don’t need to read anything else to understand part II:D)

good humans, greetings:) since latest chapter was translated, as promised here’s the part II of my previous post. i listened to Just a Ride by Rishloo on the loop while writing this and i completely recommend it! please feel free to comment and give me feedback, it always broadens my horizons to interact with you people :D first, let’s talk about the latest chapter, which i’m glad i waited for. such a short chapter wears quite the weight.

if i were to dissect chapter 22, there would be three main parts

1-hibino and yamato

hibino not letting yamato kiss him made me quite happy for the guy, since self respect somehow doesn’t seem to exist in many of the other works in the same genre. and also, him calling yamato uncool wasn’t really uncalled for considering the situation. i actually didn’t think much of it until the same thought was repeated two more times, then it became a full-on attack lmao. (i think jackverglas also pointed this out!) mostly to show yuiji finding that uncoolness likable and not disappointing like hibino seems to believe it is. the panel below might be the most obvious example of that, the way yamato says hibino isn’t happy with yamato’s true self and answering “it’s fine” when nacchan asks if that’s actually okay with him seemed truly heartbreaking to me. someone that could make you happy, nacchan said. that’s someone who likes you as you are and in this situation, hibino sadly doesn’t fit the criteria.

but rather than that the main purpose behind the first couple of pages were to create conflict. yamato, who’s in love with the idea of love in general is now desperate to the point he falls into the pit of so called modern day romance. he’s quickly trying to separate his romantic feelings from yuiji, forcefully trying to switch them onto somebody else, anybody else but yuiji to be exact. yamato’s side of the story is thus concluded and the responsibility for their relationship seems to fall on yuiji for now. while yuiji figures himself out, his ticking time with yamato should also be one of the reasons that makes him move. after all conflict itself is created to make progress. where there are problems, there are also changes.

2- nacchan and yamato

here’s nacchan being an absolute angel:

this time nacchan’s feelings for yamato seemed to lose their control over her. she was able to properly support him as a friend and didn’t seem disheartened by the news. maybe her romantic feelings toward him are slowly withering but of course that’s far from certain considering her personality. nacchan is nice to the point of naivety at times. right now, she knows the whole situation the best. from yamato’s feelings towards yuiji to why he decided to work things out with hibino, she sees clear as day that yamato’s going through a lot. nacchan seems to support yamato’s idea, probably thinking he doesn’t really have a chance with yuiji. so that could also be why nacchan’s romantic feelings doesn’t seem so obvious, since she’s concerned with yamato’s issues before all. she’s the type to put others before herself after all, but still isn’t yuiji supposed to be the same when it comes to yamato?

then, for an example here’s how different yuiji and nacchan’s reactions are to the ‘good news’ yamato had to offer. if nacchan is the one who’s in love with yamato why do their reactions seem to be so drastically different in the opposite way around?

these pictures kinda speak for themselves so i’m shutting my trap and leaving it up to your interpretations lmao

3- mayu and yuiji

the last part’s purpose was to close the door to yuiji’s past relationship with mayu and to open a new one heading to his future. their relationship is officially concluded for sure this time, as them being friends (which deserves an enthusiastic yes. yes to a healthy relationship!)

in the panel above, mayu talks about something yuiji has been worrying about for a while. she adresses an issue that maybe happened a while ago, and maybe it wasn’t talked about after their arc. but it’s an issue that exists regardless. in yuiji’s mind, they didn’t have a clean break-up at all, did they? when they were breaking up, the sentence that hit me the most was “i’m slowly hating the idea of love itself”. a way of thinking that’s simply enough to make one avoid romance in general, especially for a person like yuiji. this concern of his was never addressed after his arc with mayu (until now) but that doesn’t mean it ceased to exist. it simply wasn’t too obvious since yuiji’s focus was mostly on yamato’s hassles and to be fair, it’s been a while since we last witnessed his thoughts at all. this is why i loved how with mayu’s reappearance, those old books were reopened. a tiny detail maybe, but it made the whole story come together while also giving it a new life. her advice is also quite meaningful within itself. the best way to solve a problem is to directly go to the cause of it, but in this case, the cause, mayu came to him. not to make everything harder but to actually help him solve his inner issues that he had after their relationship. in that regard, her words hold the most power. and what she chose to say was that every person is different and thus every relationship also differentiate from one another. one bad experience doesn’t mean shit if in the end, he manages to find the person who’s right for him. but who is this ‘right person’ guy and do we know him?

so um, well we’ve been played in this part... i’m sure there are some posts as to what has been said here, i avoided those to come up with an opinion of my own. but still, there’s no clear-cut idea that comes to mind.

there are 3 criteria she stated

1-like someone who you can really like

2-you think things through to the point you over analyze so loving you is a bit hard (find someone who can love that side of you)

3-since you think things through, ......... i hope you can find someone like this

it’s most probable that she didn’t randomly mention something that didn’t have anything to do with her previous statements and thus those sentences play an important role. to explain where i’m coming from i’ll first focus on the first two conditions. the thing is, both of them are pretty straightforward about pointing to yamato. “like someone who you can really like” gives me flashbacks to the 8495 “i like you” lines we’ve got in the first 22 chapters. yuiji quite clearly enjoys yamato’s presence, his existence eases his mind and the way he’s open about his feelings makes yamato unproblematic for yuiji even though he’s basically ‘problems’ with legs and an ability to speak. “you tend to over analyze so loving you can be a bit hard” not much to say about this when that over analyzing part of yuiji is what yamato needed the most. to be fair, considering yamato likes calm and quiet types, there doesn’t seem to be one thing that he actually dislikes about yuiji’s personality. can’t say the same about his face though lmao. not the small and cute type at all...

for plot purposes the third condition is probably also related to yamato, and it should be more straightforward to the point it had to be concealed for now. it either a. makes yuiji understand his feelings for yamato or b. makes yuiji want to do something about his feelings that he’s already aware of and both of them results in yuiji finally starting to move. after all, while the first part of chapter 22 was to create conflict, the last part is to make progress using that conflict.

as for what she actually said, a lot of theories could be formed but i feel like whatever i say would be quite baseless no matter how hard i try. still, i’m pretty sure that’s what people expect to see the most so let me try my best for you guys. i cannot physically come up with more than two theories though... be aware that i’m diving into this blind and with no previous planning whatsoever so expect some bullshit lol

so for this one to actually work we need to make a lot of assumptions. the biggest one being, “yuiji isn’t sure about his feelings yet but he noticed the slight changes in yamato.” then we could make it work just barely. what mayu basically said was “since you think things through you should like someone who you really like” and “i really think you think things through. that’s why ..... i hope you can meet someone like that.” he should find someone who he really likes because he thinks things through, so shouldn’t he also find someone who really likes him for the same reason. something along the lines of “since you’re this way, you need someone who really likes you as well. i hope you can find someone like that.”

as to how i reached this conclusion, as i said the sentence should be an obvious hint at yamato in my opinion. if we make the assumption of yuiji being aware of yamato’s feelings, their conversation as a whole leads them to yamato. the guy who yuiji really likes, the guy that accepts him and really likes him as well. also hearing this from mayu plays quite an important role. it’s something big enough to make yuiji, who already has feelings for the guy, think a relationship with yamato is possible. knowing the way yuiji is, i’d say someone liking him is enough for him to consider that person as a love interest. he isn’t a hopeless romantic like yamato after all. that person being a male complicates things for sure, but with yamato’s existance around him the idea of two guys being in love probably doesn’t seem so unordinary to him anymore. that would also explain why that line was censored by the school bell. since it would directly hint at yamato’s feelings being known to yuiji. which is an info that should be confidential at this point????? i’m definitely spouting nonsense am i not lmao. i could probably point out around 7 things that doesn’t really make sense but i’ll just ignore my inner turmoil and focus on the positive for once in my life

so i do think yuiji knowing about yamato’s feelings is quite possible. i can’t really imagine him ever making a move without being sure of the other sides feelings towards him as of yet, or even noticing his own feelings to be exact. also with the way things are, yamato doesn’t seem to be the one who makes the final move. this is why i thought this theory (barely) made sense. with mayu as well, yuiji’s main focus was the feelings being mutual. “she liked me and i liked her so we just casually started going out.” the pronoun changing of course makes things more complicated but in the end of the day it doesn’t mean shit. what stops it from being “he liked me and i liked him so we just casually started going out.”?

and this theory completely depends on the translation lol. after mayu said [redacted] she also added “i’m not in a position to say this. given how you thought our relationship became a hassle”. when i first saw that blank space this was the first thing that came to my mind: “someone who you really like as a friend before a lover, i hope you find someone like that.” as i stated before, this is also something that directly points at yamato, as the close friend figure who yuiji feels really comfortable around. but a friend figure who could also develop feelings for him. and also, it would explain why mayu thought it wasn’t her place to say what she said. because even though they were friends first, their relationship still didn’t work out. but it wasn’t only yuiji’s fault, she continues, it was her fault too. that could be to reassure yuiji, after all they were friends too, maybe just not as close as they thought they were.

this is kind of a reach as well. she’s probably saying “it isn’t my place to say” purely because they’re ex-lovers but hey i’m absolutely stuck and i had two clues in mind lmao. and that was me considering the bell to not go on for too long (this isn’t a sports anime where they fly in air while scoring and somehow have a monologue for a whole episode lol) so my logic said she could only squeeze in a single sentence that was an absolute headshot. if i somehow manage to regain my dead braincells, i’ll be sure to come up with something else that actually makes sense:D

YUIJI

“i wish i were a guy. then yamato could fall for me.” after a pause, with such a sad expression too, yuiji refuses. most times, things that aren’t said mean much more than the ones that are. what kind of sentence fills that silence, i keep asking myself. is it him, thinking it’s inconsiderate to talk in such a way after all yamato went through? did the possibility of yamato actually having feelings for him strike after nacchan pointed it out?

or is it because he himself is now questioning what he’s feeling for a guy friend, that he refuses after a pause?

for a while there’s been one thing i was sure of and one that i wasn’t so certain about. i’m almost sure yuiji likes yamato and i wasn’t certain if he knew this himself. as i mentioned before, i was suspicious of him already noticing his feelings when in chapter 21, his general reaction to the whole confession was just out of the ordinary and the behavior he’s shown afterwards is way touchier than the usual though i still think i’m over analyzing that part lol. the fact that he’s got a whole conversation in this chapter to make him start moving, yamato deciding to give hibino a chance for sure and us not seeing yuiji’s thoughts at all for a while now only seem to support the fact that he knows. and also, unless mikeda causes a major shitshow that suddenly enlightens yamato to go and confess, that responsibility also seems to fall on yuiji’s shoulders as of now. that guy doesn’t seem like the type to confess two minutes after he figures out his feelings though. at this point i think he knows that his feelings seem to be different from before but he just isn’t sure about what he should do about it.

being interested in both genders, especially in a more conservative country usually leads up to a heterosexual lifestyle. many, including me, chooses the easier way out. when you can lead a so called ‘normal’ life where you’re accepted by the ones that are around you, choosing otherwise is just a hassle. but then again the heart wants what it wants. acceptance doesn’t guarantee happiness but a relationship with love doesn’t guarantee it either, at that point you measure your circumstances and decide for yourself. and that’s what i think is going through yuiji’s mind right now. yuiji seems to be interested in what makes a person rather than their gender. he wasn’t really able to differentiate between the two genders from way before, treating both women and men the same, which mayu didn’t like. he’s someone who questions if a straight guy could accept dating another guy (which means that isn’t exactly a straight guy lmao). just the prejudice causing him to accept that as a possibility while still wanting to remain ‘straight’.

i think yuiji knows a lot more than we think he does. that’s what i’ll stick with.

and as for the less serious part of this post

let me over analyze to my heart’s content lmao

here’s yuiji’s reactions to yamato being yamato over the chapters. in the first occurrence he’s simply surprised, at this point he isn’t blushing and only is taken aback a bit. while in the second stiuation he’s blushing a little but he’s still uncomfortable and leans back trying to get away. as for the last one, rather than being taken aback and changing his postion, he instinctively touches his cheek while blushing. more than uncomfortable he seems surprised even though yamato’s action is way more daring than before.

here’s yuiji single-handedly defeating inner homophobia, not having very straight thoughts, going thorough quite the excessive feelings that make him want to take revenge in yamato’s place and deciding to go watch gay porn the day he notices the existence of a gay guy for reasons unknown... what a guy lol

and so that concludes it, this post had too broad of a topic and to not make it too long a lot of things were cut (it clearly didn’t work) next time i’ll be more specific with my themes lmao

thank you so much for reading this far, take good care of yourselves and as always feel free to reach out to me if you have any questions! love you all :)!

#koimonogatari #tagura tohru #my poor brain isn’t big enough for this #and my poor hands are also hurting #but i’m finally done #well at least i’ll have it easy with english essays in the future lmao #i hope i didn’t just state the obvious :((( that always scares me #oh and #sorry for being so late:/#life lol #<33

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taegis-gf · 4 years

Text

Forbidden - Part 2

Dealer!yoongi x Reader

Warnings ➜ smut, oral (m receiving), non-protected sex, tiny bit of angst

Summary ➜ You never meant to lock eyes with the beautiful stranger at Namjoon’s house party, you also didn’t mean to completely fall for him, knowing exactly how dangerous it was.

Word Count ➜ 7.6K

Part 1 here!

NB: if drug-taking in fics isn’t for you/or makes you uncomfortable, also reader is literally getting with a drug dealer so if any of this isn't for you - please don’t read!

The next morning you wake up with a killer headache and a dry mouth.

You turned to your right and saw a passed-out Taehyung lying next to you. Your eyes widened as you quickly tried to recall last night’s events.

After your phone call with Yoongi you had gone back downstairs and partied. Hard.

You remembered at about 5am you were too tired and Jin had announced you could sleep in any of the bedrooms, Taehyung had followed you to talk but you both had just ended up passing out.

You smiled, remembering Taehyung had been concerned with no ulterior motives, you two were just talking complete nonsense however for about an hour before you both had just fallen asleep.

You reached out to the bedside table, where you had left your phone and checked the time.

10AM it had read, only 4ish hours of sleep? Why the hell were you awake?

You saw you had a message from Yoongi, but you were pretty sure you needed a few more hours of sleep if you wanted to text back anything that made actual sense.

You did, however, make the valiant effort of plugging your phone into a charger before passing out again.

When you woke up again you didn’t know how much time had passed.

You reached out for your phone again to see it read 1PM, Taehyung was still miraculously passed out beside you.

You took a minute to examine his features, how the fuck did anyone deserve to be that beautiful? Especially after a night of partying? Jackass, you thought before sticking an elbow into his side.

“Tae,” you called out in a singsong tone. “Tae wake up.”

You earned a small groan from him and knew you were getting somewhere.

“Taeeeeeeee,” You called again.

You rolled over onto him, straddling his hips and leaning into him.

“Tae wake up!”

Semi awake - you knew this because he had consciously grabbed your hips to keep you in place – he groaned again, probably unaware of who you even were.

“Wake up you loser!” You said, cupping his cheeks and shaking his head side to side a little.

“M’awake.” He replied, his grip on your hips tightening when he finally realised who you were.

He smiled, his eyes still closed.

“Hm, I always have dreams of waking up with you on top of me like this.” He murmured.

“Never thought it would happen though.” He said as he slowly opened his eyes.

You were 100% sure you’ve probably never looked worse but Taehyung only smiled wider when he saw your face.

“I was just trying to wake you up…” You trailed off, suddenly very aware of how your crotch was literally sitting on his.

You rolled off him, leaving him to fully wake up, pulling your phone off the charger.

You remembered the message from Yoongi, unlocking your phone. A smile crossed your face as you remembered the events from last night.

9:39AM

Yoongi: hey, text me when ur awake

You grinned even harder, typing your reply.

1:13PM

You: hey sorry my lazy ass is only awake now, i stayed in Jins, let me call you when im home and showered T_T

“God, you must have it bad.” Taehyung said from beside you.

You glared at him “I don’t know what you're talking about.” You replied.

“Well if how hard your smiling at your phone is anything to go by, you must clearly have it bad for somebody.” He said.

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m going back to my dorm.” You said, standing up, feeling a little dizzy.

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you.” He said, winking.

You mimicked gagging as you threw your shoes on and fled Jin’s house.

As you stepped out of the warmth of the shower and wrapped a towel around your hair, you threw on a long t-shirt and got settled into your bed.

You pulled out your phone and opened up your recents, hitting Yoongi’s name, you watched it as it began ringing.

You became a little nervous, your mind thinking back to everything that had gone on last night.

You put the phone up to ear listening to the sounds as you closed your eyes letting out a heavy sigh of exhaustion.

They sprung back open as soon as you heard the “Hello?” from the other side of the line.

“Hey.” Was all you could manage, your anxiety sky rocketing.

“Hey,” Yoongi replied. “So how bad is your hangover?” He asked.

You laughed and scoffed. “Leave me alone! I am currently dying and in serious need of unhealthy food.”

“Maybe I can help with that?” He asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice like you were going to tell him no.

“What do you mean?” You asked, a smile on your face.

“I can pick up anything you want, bring it to you. We can talk.” He said.

“Oh yes please that sounds amazing!” You said, glee overwhelming you.

“Okay text me what you want and your address.”

And with that the conversation ended, you quickly jumped up to dry your hair and put on a pair of shorts.

When there was a knock on the door you leapt up, heart about to beat right through your chest.

You opened it up with a smile and Yoongi smiled back holding up food in one hand. You grabbed his hand and pulled him in.

Your dorm room was small so you didn’t really have any other choice but to sit down on your bed and pat the space beside you.

“Here is the chicken strips your majesty ordered.” He said, sitting beside you.

“Thank you so much, you have no idea how hungry I am.” You opened up the bag getting stuck in like some depraved animal.

“I didn’t know you lived in a dorm,” He said, gazing around your room.

“Yeah,” you said, munching on fries, you swallowed and began again. “I’m in my 3rd year.”

“Wow, I don’t know…I pictured you to live in some ridiculous mansion like the rest of them do.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“No, believe it or not, I am in no way rich, far from it actually, I met them because my mom used to clean Namjoon’s house actually, she used to bring me along. That’s how we all met.”

You weren’t ashamed that you had significantly less money than your friends, far from it actually, your mom was a single mother who did her best for you.

“Oh really? That’s actually quite surprising.” Yoongi said, his eyes skimming over your face, meeting your eyes.

“I’m not ashamed! Those rich dicks help me a lot actually, they’ve definitely made sure I didn’t I go hungry or anything, they treat me well, I’m super thankful.” You said, taking another bite of your food, it was going down a treat.

“Thank you for the food, I have some money in my coat pocket-“ You made a move to stand.

“Please, it’s on me.” Yoongi said, putting a hand on your arm to stop you getting up.

You laughed. “I probably just made it sound like I’m some sort of charity case.”

Yoongi shook his head, “Not at all, I just wanted to do something nice.”

You looked up at him again, his dark hair was falling into his eyes a little and you couldn't stop yourself thinking about how beautiful the man in front of you was, even if he did look a little serious at the moment.

“Listen,” he began, “about last night, I hope you don’t regret it.” He said, he wasn’t looking at you anymore.

You put the rest of your food to the side, wanting to move closer to him.

“Of course I don’t.” You reassured him. “Do you?” You asked.

Yoongi looked at you once again, “No.”

“See? We both don’t regret anything. I’m glad.” You said, resting a hand on his thigh.

“I want to talk though,” He started, his eyes focused on where your hand was. “I know it’s no secret. What my job is.”

It was your turn to listen to his story and you did, you nodded, letting him continue.

“I know what I said to you the first night we met, and I won’t lie, I still feel like that a little, I’m a first-class scumbag, right? I mean what else kind of person deals drugs.”

He said, scoffing at himself.

He kept going, he clearly wanted to get everything out on the table.

“I never wanted this, my dad’s side of the family are all like this, my mom ran off, I guess she was afraid of him, but she didn’t take me with her. I grew up with this and I never wanted to do his dirty work for him. I tried to fight him on it but what can I do? He wouldn’t let me leave. I know I’m a bad person, I try so hard not to be, I only sell to people I can trust, no addicts, no one underage, just mainly rich kids who want to party, ya know? I know that doesn’t make it any better…”

You could tell he was struggling to get this out, but it needed to be done.

“My dad’s a hardass, he doesn’t even do any of the dirty work though, just sits on his throne all day keeping his hands clean. He threw me into this, his own son, said he wanted me to get a taste of what it was like out there, he said I won't have to do it for long but I needed some toughening up as he put it.”

You were listening intently, afraid to speak. Him saying this made it all so real.

You knew what he was doing was wrong, but the fact that he was basically being forced to do it made your heart ache, he didn’t ask to be born into that life and running away from home when your father was that kind of man…it wasn’t an option either you guessed.

“I’m not making excuses, really I’m not, I just... I like you a lot and there is no way I can take this any further without you knowing all this. I understand if you don’t want to see me again.” He said.

You looked at him, he was still looking down unable to meet your eyes, was he really that ashamed?

A part of you wanted to tell him you didn’t want to see him again, to not let yourself get into this sort of situation, but something about him was so damn infatuating, you wanted to keep seeing him, get to know him, his hobbies, his hopes and dreams. You wanted all of him.

It had been a while since he spoke and you realised you hadn’t even replied to him, too caught up in your own thoughts.

“Look I get it, I’ll just go.” And as he made a move to stand you hastily grabbed at his wrist.

“No please don’t go Yoongi. Please. This was just a lot to process, I’m sorry. But I definitely don’t want you to walk away.” You said giving him a -what you hoped looked- reassuring smile.

Yoongi smiled back but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I know it’s a lot, that’s why I don’t date, or get involved with girl’s at all for that matter. But then I saw you at Namjoon’s party…I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, I’ve never felt like that before seeing someone for the first time.”

Your heart swelled.

“I thought the same about you, I mean I tried to flirt from the damn bathroom.” You said, laughing a little.

“I know,” Yoongi replied, laughing a little too as he recalled the memory. “I said that cheesy line as well, I felt like a damn moron for that.”

You laughed harder. “Don’t worry, I liked it.”

“You were drunk!”

“I wasn’t that drunk…well actually…” You trailed off as you recalled.

You both were laughing hard now.

You couldn’t believe how natural this all felt, being like this with him.

And that’s how the rest of your afternoon with him went, just talking about anything and everything, you were getting to know each other and it felt amazing.

So when he announced he had to go you had pouted and he gave you a quick kiss on your pout and promised to call you.

You were sitting with Jungkook in your local coffee shop, both stressing about assignments, but avoiding them like the idiots you were.

“This has got to be the worst week of my life, I feel like I’ve been hungover for about 5 days and this essay is due in 2 days, how do they expect me to write five thousand words whilst trying to party? I go to college to party, not to work.” Jungkook was moaning, you weren’t really listening to him, you rolled your eyes.

“Jungkook you’re gonna flunk out if you don’t start doing some work.” You said sighing.

“They can’t flunk me,” he began with a cocky smirk, “When your dad’s on the board there are some perks, for example, doing the bare minimum and getting away with it.”

You scoffed at him, hitting his shoulder.

“And where is that attitude going to take you in life? Hmm?” You were tired of dealing with his rich boy antics.

“I don’t know, hopefully surrounded by some good pussy and parties 24/7.”

You were pretty sure if you rolled your eyes any harder they were going to fall out of your head.

“Well, unlike you, I have to actually put some effort in, I’m going to the library, it’s due on Monday.” As you got up Jungkook stood with you.

“I’ll walk you over.” He offered and you didn’t decline.

As you walked across the grass, Jungkook had his hands in his pockets.

“So does that mean you’re not going to the party tomorrow?” He asked.

You shook your head a firm no, that was the last thing on earth you needed to be doing.

“Awh no fun, I hate it when you’re not there.” He said and you gave him the side-eye.

“What are you talking about? We barely speak at parties, you're always too busy trying to get laid by the first brunette that walks through the door.” You stated.

“Oh come on! Not fair. Me and you know how to have a good time, you’re the only person I can count on to get as fucked up as me.” He said, smiling at you.

You hit his shoulder again. “Why are you so proud? Us embarrassing ourselves isn’t cute.”

“It is so.” He retorted.

You just shook your head, walking in silence until you were back on campus.

“Hey look… isn’t that Min Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, nodding his head in the direction he was in.

You shot your head up immediately, Jungkook was right, Yoongi was there. Standing in front of what you could only assume was his car, it was sleek, black and look like it cost more than a house.

You looked away, turning to Jungkook. “How do you know who he is?”

“A lot of people on campus know who he is, he’s infamous, you know he used to go here? He dropped out, turned into… ya know…a drug dealer.” Jungkook said lowering his voice.

“He refuses to sell to me. I’m pretty sure he’s Jin’s dealers though, I see him around sometimes.”

You widened your eyes in surprise, smacking Jungkook on the shoulder for what had to be the 15th time today.

“Ouch! What did I do now?” He said, faking hurt.

“You tried to buy from him? What are you, some sort of idiot?” You scolded.

“He’s a cool guy Y/N, I’ve heard the rumours about him selling to only a select few, but I thought I’d chance my arm anyway, see if he was down, he most definitely was not.” Jungkook said, laughing at the obviously funny memory.

“Jesus Christ Jungkook, you really are shameless.” You stated, distracted.

Yoongi had spotted you, he wasn’t making it obvious but he stole a few looks your way.

“Is he…looking at you Y/N?” Jungkook said, suddenly aware of the situation.

You immediately turned bright red.

“Oh my god, he is!” Jungkook half-shouted.

“Jungkook oh my god, shut up!” You said back at him, suddenly irritated at his childishness, if anyone were to find out about you and Yoongi – well let’s just say Jungkook would’ve been dead last on your list.

“I can’t believe this…wait, how do you even know him?” He asked, he stopped walking and suddenly turned to you, going into full blown interrogation mode.

“I don’t! Well not really, I just talked to him at Namjoon’s party once, I didn’t even know who he was.” You said, it technically wasn’t a lie, you just couldn’t let Jungkook know it had went so much further than that.

“Jesus…” Jungkook breathed out, he was clearly in deep thought.

“Please stop making it sound like such a bad thing Jungkook, it isn’t that deep!”

“He’s a fucking dealer Y/N, do you know how dangerous that makes him!?” He shot back, clearly worried for you, it would be almost endearing if you hadn’t felt such a strong need to defend Yoongi.

“You know he doesn’t even want that life? His dad forced him into it, he didn’t have a choice in the matter…” You trailed off, hoping Jungkook would be reasonable.

“How well do you know him really? I’m sure that makes it seem like it’s all okay Y/N, but it doesn’t.” He wasn’t budging on his opinion.

You wanted to fight him on this, but honestly, how could you?

“You didn’t...get with him…did you?” Jungkook asked, seeing how worked up you were getting up over the situation.

“Jungkook, I swear to god, if you don’t stay out of my business, we won’t be friends anymore.” You shoved him out of your way and stormed on, you heard him call your name but you ignored him.

As you were walking it suddenly hit you, Yoongi had just witnessed your whole confrontation, he hadn’t been close enough to hear but anybody with two eyes could clearly see you and Jungkook had been arguing.

You didn’t look over at Yoongi, you put your head down and powerwalked all the way to your dorm.

As you closed your door you threw your bag on the floor in anger. Who the fuck did Jungkook think he was? He wasn’t in charge of your life you were a grown woman.

You began shedding clothes, suddenly feeling too hot, you were getting far too worked up, ready to burst into tears.

Your phone was buzzing incessantly in your back pocket and you finally took it out, looking to see who it was;

Notifications:

JK: iMessage(s) (8)

Yoongi: iMessage(s) (2)

You sighed and threw your phone on the bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to read any of them, your head was hurting and you just wanted to crawl into your bed.

So you did.

It was only 2pm, but a nap couldn’t hurt, your problems would still be there when you woke up, but you could avoid them for a few hours.

When you woke up, it was due to the sound of your phone vibrating once again, you didn’t know how long it had been doing that exactly, but the fact it had been seeping into your dream, you figured it had been a while.

You picked it up from beside you and squinted at the bright light in your face.

Incoming call: JK

You hastily declined the call and when you did you saw the notifications on your home screen.

Notifications:

JK: iMessage(s) (14)

Missed calls (6)

Yoongi: iMessage(s) (5)

Missed Calls (2)

You groaned at the time, you’d been asleep for about 2 hours, but Jungkook obviously had a lot to say to you, you knew he had been saying everything to you out of his love for you, that he didn’t mean to be mean or hurtful. Heck, you knew what kind of situation you were in and damn you and Yoongi had beat that horse to death the first time he had came over to your dorm, you were taking it slow, unaware of where you two wanted to take this, but you both knew how badly you’d wanted to keep seeing each other.

You took a deep breath and unlocked your phone, staring at the messages Jungkook had left first.

2:07PM

JK: Y/N I’m sorry about how that went down, we need to talk

JK: Please don’t ignore me, I know I annoyed you

JK: I know I didn’t even take the time to really hear you out

JK: You know how much I care about you

JK: How could I stand by and let you just do something like that?

JK: Wht kind of friend would that make me?

JK: please please don’t shut me out

JK: I love you so much don’t be mad at me :(

3:13PM

JK: I promise I wont say anything to anyone

JK: I do think you should tell Jin though

3:56PM

JK: Y/N please pick up the phone

JK: Im going fucking crazy sitting here

JK: I just need to know you don’t hate me :(

JK: ik Im being a stalker here, but just one word to reassure me you’ll talk to me again is all I need :( ur my best friend

You sighed heavily as you scrolled through his texts, he was obviously annoyed at himself and clearly demented at the thought you may never speak to him again.

You put your anger aside to type one quick reply.

4:04PM

You: I don’t hate you, I just don’t know how to talk about this with you yet, give me time.

He typed a reply right away.

JK: okay !! I understand im so glad you replied i love u tho

You really needed to set things straight with Jungkook but you knew you both needed to speak to each other in person, you would in due time.

As you took another heavy sigh you clicked over to yours and Yoongi’s text conversation.

2:04PM

Yoongi: Hey is everything okay with you and your friend (jungkook I think, im not sure…)

Yoongi: I wanted to come say hi but things look a little heated, do you wnt me to come over?

3:45PM

Yoongi: im sure youre busy I don’t want to be that person who worries over not getting a reply, but I really do hope ur ok…

Yoongi: ive tried calling u sorry if that’s annoying lol, let me know ur okay?

Yoongi obviously didn’t realise your argument with Jungkook had been over him, so how could he know you couldn’t even tell him what you two had been arguing about, you didn’t want to lie to him he clearly seemed to care, but you thought the truth would be more damaging than good as you began to type back.

4:07PM

You: hey im sorry! Ur not annoying i just accidentally fell asleep, sorry if i left you to worry about me although it is very cute tho,,,, me and jungkook were just talking about one of my close girlfriends, he said something about wanting to fuck her and i got angry…it’s the norm with me and him, nothing to worry abt 😙

You read over what you typed about 5 times, hoping it was believable, you pressed send.

You lay in your bed waiting for ten minutes before you got a reply.

4:19PM

Yoongi: it didn’t look like nothing,,,my offer to come and see u still stands ya know… im still about campus

Your heart felt heavy.

You thought about how much you wanted to see him, and you knew that even though Jungkook was right he was also so very wrong.

4:21PM

You: yeah i would actually really like that…you remember where i am don’t u?

After about 10 minutes you heard a knock on your door and you bounced up from your bed, you probably looked a hot mess but you didn’t care, you just felt giddy at the thought of seeing Yoongi.

You pulled open the door and were practically beaming at him.

“Hi.” You said.

“Hi yourself.” He replied as he walked in, you took a step back still watching him as he closed the door behind him.

You were still awe of how effortlessy beautiful he was, the dainty silver chain around his neck, his hair was getting a little too long but the way it was falling into his eyes made him even more beautiful.

“What is it?” He asked a small laugh escaping him, clearly confused by your staring.

“Nothing really…I just think you’re cute.” Your eyes widened after you finished speaking, that sounded a whole lot better in your head.

Yoongi let out an amused scoff.

“You think I’m cute?” He retorted.

He took a step towards you and you felt your heart rate began to go a lot faster.

“Well…I d-,” He was getting closer. “I don’t know – it just slipped out.” You said.

“It just slipped out?” He repeated.

You had never felt more flustered in your life and it only got worse as he finally got close enough to rest his hands on your hips and pull you close to him.

“Do you…wanna watch a movie or something?” You asked, god he really was fucking you up.

“No.” Was all Yoongi said before he leaned in and kissed you.

You welcomed his kiss immediately, leaning into his touch and wrapping your hands around his neck, teasing the ends of his hair with the tips of your fingers.

You slowly began incoporating your tongue into the kiss and let out a pleased moan when Yoongi began lightly sucking on it.

“You make the prettiest noises…” He said breathily between your kisses.

“Hmmm.” Was all you responded.

“Even better hearing them in person rather than over the phone.” He stated.

You froze a little feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the memory of Yoongi talking you through your orgasm over the phone.

“I must’ve jerked off to the memory of that about a million times, god it was so fucking hot,” You were staring wide eyes at him, you could feel the familiar heat growing between your legs.

“R-really?” Was all you could mutter as Yoongi began kissing your neck his hands reaching round to grab at your ass.

“Are you kidding me? Of course, you sounded amazing baby, you did so well for me.”

Fuck.

You could feel yourself getting more flustered by the second, all you could think to do was to kiss him again.

As you both grew more heated you let Yoongi guide over to your bed and your stomach was doing flips in anticipation.

You let him lie down and crawled over on top of him straddling his hips.

You pulled off your top leaving you in your bra and Yoongi just stared at your chest.

His hands reaching up he moved round to unhook your bra.

You shuddered at his touch and slender fingers getting to work and when he finally let your bra slide off your shoulders his hands reached up to palm at your breasts and you let out a small moan when he teased your nipple with his fingers.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured.

You could feel him under you, growing hard and heavy.

You began grinding down allowing you both to have some friction.

“Fuck, I could come like this.” You moaned, grinding down on him harder.

Yoongi was smirking, “Yeah why don’t you try?” He challenged.

You smiled back at him, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, you went to town.

“Fuck, I can feel how big you are Yoongi.”

You swore you felt his cock twitch at that.

“Want you so bad, so fucking bad.” You were talking yourself up now, getting yourself more and more worked up, you were so close.

“Yeah? Show me how bad you want me baby, fucking use me.” Yoongi said while he continued to tease your nipples, he sat up slightly, using his mouth to suck one into his mouth.

“Fuck!” Was all you managed before you came undone, riding yourself on Yoongi through your orgasm.

“You really weren’t lying.” Was all Yoongi could manage before you began moving your body down his.

You pulled his jeans down, revealing the outline of him through his boxers, your mouth watering.

You palmed over him, “You really are big, fuck.” You whispered, almost to yourself.

“You want to suck my dick baby?” He offered.

You nodded like a crazy woman, you wanted him so bad and him asking you something like that only spurred you on.

You pulled his briefs down letting his cock spring free.

“Jesus.” Was all you could say.

Yoongi laughed, clearly amused at your reaction to his dick.

“I mean it’s no Jesus but I appreciate the compliment.” He said.

You laughed, hard. You couldn’t believe you had his dick in your hand and he was making you laugh like an idiot.

“Okay stop or I won’t be able to do a damn thing.” You stated, trying to get your breath back.

“Hm okay sorry I’ll stop.” But his smile still remained as he watched you.

You just smiled as you lowered your head taking him slowly into your mouth.

You wrapped your hand around what you couldn’t put in your mouth, beginning to really get to work.

You heard Yoongi’s breath hitch and let out a small groan at your actions and mentally congratulated yourself.

“Fuck you’re good at that.” He said breathless.

“Hmmm.” You moaned around him.

“Ah fuck baby please.” He said an encouraging hand on your head willing you to take more of him in your mouth.

So you did just that, you took more of him, he hit the back of your throat and as you tried to suppress your gag reflex Yoongi clearly appreciated what you were doing.

He moaned and oh god it is such a sexy noise you wanted to just start touching yourself then and there, you were insatiable.

After a few more minutes your jaw was beginning to ache but you never faltered wanting to finish the job, it’s Yoongi who stops you.

“Babe stop, I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna be inside you.” He stated and you felt yourself suddenly become nervous, looking up at him you could see his fucked out expression and it only turned you on more, you pushed your nerves to the side; you trusted him, and you’d wanted him this way from the moment you set your eyes on him.

“Do you have a condom?” Yoongi asked as you sat up to remove your skirt and underwear.

You turned to him to see him taking his shirt off, only to pause when you remembered you couldn’t even remember the last time you purchased condoms.

“Shit…No actually, I don’t.” You said.

Yoongi looked at you laughing a little in disbelief.

“No it’s okay, I’m clean and I’m on the pill!” You said as you straddled him, you weren’t going to let this ruin your first time with Yoongi.

“I’m clean too, to be honest it’s actually been a while-“

“Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” You interrupted him, “you still want to do this then?”

You saw his cock twitch at your teasing and you laughed a little only to gasp in shock as he grabbed you by the hips and all of a sudden you were underneath him.

“Of course I want to do this.” He said into your ear.

“Then do it, fuck me Yoongi, please.” You could hear the neediness in your voice but you didn’t care.

“Should I use my fingers first babe, I can stretch you out first-”

You didn’t even let him finish, too eager. “No, I’ll be okay I think I’m wet enough from already cumming. Please just hurry.”

Yoongi laughed and buried his head into the crook of your neck and let out a groan of frustration before pulling away and looking at you, he gave you a small kiss before muttering something that sounded something like what are you doing to me? But you weren’t sure.

Yoongi lined up at your entrance and you were already so wet the tip slid in with ease.

You let out a small whine as the initial feeling, you couldn’t believe this was finally happening.

“Baby jesus chirst…you are so wet…so tight…fuck you feel amazing.” He said.

You merely nodded in agreement, you didn’t trust yourself to speak, he was all in the way in you now and you had to bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Please…move…Yoongi.” You managed.

And with that Yoongi started thrusting into you, hard.

You were moaning loudly completely lost in the pleasure.

“Baby you sound so pretty, keep moaning like that, you want me to fuck you harder?” he asked.

He was breathing heavily but when you gave him a small yes he complied, fucking into you at an unbelievable pace, your body started moving a little up the bed but Yoongi grabbed you by the hips to keep you in place.

“Yoongi just like that oh my god just like that.” You moaned.

Yoongi reached his hand down to rub at your clit and you jerked at the bolt of pleasure, it was almost too much. Almost.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you like this…” Yoongi murmured, “underneath me moaning like this.”

You smiled “Really? Did you get off to the thought of this a lot?” You asked teasingly.

“Fuck more than I care to admit.” He breathed out.

You lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

He was hitting you deeper now and his relentless attack on your clit was only causing you to reach your end quicker, you put your face in the crook of his neck and let out a loud whine.

“Baby, are you close already?”

Yoongi had slowed now but he was rubbing your clit faster and you could feel your orgasm about to wash over you.

“Yes – fuck – I’m gonna come.” You said.

Yoongi was panting heavy, picking up his pace again, he could feel you clenching around him and you knew he was just as close as you.

“Come for me please baby.” And with a few final strokes of your clit, your orgasm hit you like a train.

You were lost in yourself, lost in your orgasm you took a moment to come back down to earth you put your hands on Yoongi’s shoulders and wrapped your legs around his waist encouraging him to come.

“Baby please come, please fill me up.” You said in your fucked out moan.

And he did, spilling inside you the feeling of him filling you up was so blissful you moaned again.

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi whispered you almost didn’t hear him, but the way he said those words just confirmed he had enjoyed himself just as much as you had.

When he pulled out of you you were both still breathing heavily, the both of you so fucked out you couldn’t even speak yet, Yoongi rolled over to lay beside you.

After a minute of silence Yoongi finally spoke.

“That was-“

“Amazing.” You finished.

Yoongi laughed, leaning over to kiss you, a small affectionate peck that left you smiling like an idiot.

“Let me get you a cloth.” Yoongi offered, getting off the bed he pulled back on his underwear and walked into your small en-suite.

You could feel Yoongi’s cum seeping out of you and as gross as it was it only caused you to smile knowing what had just happened.

“Here.” Yoongi said, as he walked back out handing you the cloth, it was hot and you appreciated the fact he had taken the time to do that for you, it was sweet.

“Thank you.” You said sitting up to clean yourself.

You climbed off your bed aswell, throwing on Yoongi’s shirt to cover yourself up.

“Looks good on you.” Yoongi said.

You scoffed, “I’m gonna shower I’m sure I look like a mess…give me a minute?”

“Yeah no problem –” Yoongi was muttering as he reached for his phone to check it, after a second he was bouncing up.

“Actually I’m sorry I have to go – god I really don’t want to be that guy that just leaves right after…” He trailed off, his eyes wandering over your body until you realised he was looking at his own shirt on your body.

You nodded trying not to show your upset at the events that were unfolding in front of you.

You hastily reached for your dressing gown to cover up your naked form as you pulled his shirt up over your head.

“Y/N please don’t get quiet on me like that, you do know I care about you and I would not be leaving unless this wasn’t an emergency, right?” He said as he pulled on his shoes and stood up.

He made his way back over to you and took both your hands in his, encouraging you to look up at him.

“I’m sorry, I really am, please don’t be upset, please tell me you understand.”

It took everything in you to nod and give him a small smile.

“I’m fine Yoongi, go, I understand.” You lied.

He took another 10 seconds to further examine your face to make sure you weren’t upset, you were definitely giving him a convincing enough expression.

He gave you a small nod before grabbing his keys and phone giving you a small peck on the lips and leaving out the door.

You let out a huge sigh, you felt tired again.

You woke up the next morning feeling groggy and confused, you couldn't even remembering falling asleep again, you took a deep breath as you remembered yesterdays events.

After Yoongi had left you had stood there for a minute before you let the shame wash over you, you felt like you had just been used for a quick fuck, you wanted to believe Yoongi wasn’t like that but it was hard not to when he was already out the door even as his cum was still freshly inside you.

You had showered for a long time, trying to rid yourself of the negative thoughts that were overwhelming you.

Yoongi wasn’t like that, he had shared himself with you, told you details of his private life and in turn, had listened to your story as well, but was this a regular occurrence with him?

Was the time that you were able to spend together going to be far and few between?

You decided the best thing for you was to simply distract yourself so as you sat on your bed you opened up your laptop to get started on the assignment you had due, you decided to switch off your phone, you knew if you didn’t you would be checking it every 5 minutes waiting on a text from a certain someone.

A few hours passed as you really began getting into your work you figured you’d be able to get it finished by tomorrow, but a sharp knock on your door made you jump out of your skin.

“Y/N open up please.” You heard a muffled voice come from behind the door.

It was Jungkook.

You took a deep breath, you hadn’t been mentally ready to see him for a while, but here he was.

You stood up off your bed, walking to the door you hesitantly opened it just a crack as you peered out to him.

He looked good as usual, black jeans, black cap and that damn black leather jacket.

He immediately looked at you as you poked your head through the gap in the door.

“What do you want Jungkook?” You asked, you really weren’t in the mood to get lectured right now.

“What am I, some stranger? Let me in and we can talk.” He said moving closer to the door.

“Jungkook – I’m really not in the mood right now.” You said.

He pushed the door open anyway his strength no match for you.

“What are you deaf now? I don’t wanna talk Jungkook.” You stood back from him as he closed the door behind him, he really did look huge in your small dorm room.

“Please just let us talk this out, you know I hate fighting with you, the other guys… I will freeze their asses out when they’re mad at me I don’t care…but with you.” Jungkook looked at you with those bigs eyes and you let out a huge sigh, you had a soft spot for him.

“Okay, let’s talk.” You said with a heavy heart, you weren’t ready for the dose of reality Jungkook was going to hit you with.

He took a seat on your bed, your dorm room didn’t even have a desk so everything had to happen on your bed, you cringed a little when you realised you hadn’t even washed your sheets since you and Yoongi had had sex on them.

You took a seat beside him folding your legs up underneath yourself.

“You wanna tell me how this happened?” Jungkook said, you got the vibes he wanted everything out on the table.

“I wasn’t lying yesterday. I met him at Namjoon’s house party the other week. He was there because you all cried in Jin’s face about getting coke.” You said, you were definitely on the defence.

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows a little, you know he could tell you were going to be snarky about this but he had the patience of a god when it came to you, lord knows you could be difficult.

“Okay…” Jungkook began slowly, “So you two just…what?”

You rolled your eyes. ��Jungkook, I saw him at Namjoon’s party I flirted with him even after I found out who he was, I saw him at Jin’s again and he kissed me…he actually was here yesterday…” You didn’t know what else to say, how do you tell your best friend you were fucking a drug dealer, it wasn’t exactly something you just said, but you knew Jungkook was smart enough to already know what you were saying.

“What?! You mean you two have already…” He didn’t need to finish his sentence, he trailed off looking like he was deep in thought.

“Aren’t you moving a little to fast here Y/N? I mean if you only met him at Namjoon’s party then –“ You took second to blink at Jungkook before hitting his shoulder.

“Excuse me?! You fuck the first girl you see at any party within an hour of meeting her and you’re going to lecture me about whoring it out?!” You weren't really that angry more in shock that Jungkook had actually said something like that to you.

Jungkook laughed a little at your reaction “I didn’t mean it that way, I’m sorry I guess it’s just because of who he is…you have to know this is a bad idea right?” He was looking at you a lot more serious now.

You nodded solemnly, “I know Jungkook, fuck, believe me, we both know.”

“But…let me guess, he’s not entirely what I’m picturing? Cause I know damn well you wouldn’t let get this worked up over someone if you didn’t like them a lot.”

Sometimes you forgot how attentive Jungkook was, a lot of your relationship was joking around with each other so when shit got serious you were reminded of the fact that he actually cared about you a lot and that he actually knew you pretty well.

“Yeah, it’s new but…I like him a lot, although I’m not even sure if the feelings are one hundred per cent reciprocated. Maybe it’s just self-deprecation thinking that… I don’t know it’s been so long since I’ve wanted to see someone more than once. I forgot how hard this shit is.” You scoffed out a laugh, you were pretty sure you sounded stupid but you weren’t sure how to talk about this.

“Please, are you kidding me? If the feelings aren’t reciprocated then he is a total dumbass because any guy would be so lucky to have you.” Jungkook said.

You didn’t know where to look, Jungkook speaking like this to you felt foreign.

“I know that was cheesy,” Jungkook laughed a little. “But it’s true, I mean look at Taehyung, he embarrasses himself all the time trying to get you to go out with him.”

You rolled your eyes.

“All Taehyung wants is a quick hump and dump.”

Jungkook scoffed “Are you kidding me? I’m pretty sure Tae’s been in love with you from the moment he set his eyes on you, remember when he gave you his favourite toy to play with and we all were in shock cause it was the first time we’d seen him share anything.”

You laughed at the memory, but Jungkook had no idea what he was talking about, Taehyung only saw you as a friend and possibly another notch on his belt.

“Listen what I’m trying to say is Y/N, at the end of the day this is your choice obviously but please be careful, please, I can look out for you but I don’t think I stand a chance against a drug lord’s crew if it came down to that.”

You looked at him in shock. “Jungkook don’t say shit like that oh my god! Nothing like that would happen!”

You shivered at the thought for a second, thinking about how you only saw Yoongi and not his world, it probably was as dangerous as Jungkook was imagining.

“I’m sorry okay, I’m just going to be worrying like crazy from now on, you know that right? Let me be the overbearing overprotective friend please.”

You let out a heavy sigh choosing to not say anything for a moment as you got lost in your own head.

“Y/N, I respect your choices always. But please be careful.”

You nodded, “Thank you Jungkook, and you know I will.”

“Listen I gotta go but I’ll text you okay?” Jungkook said as he stood up.

You stood up with him following him to the door.

He leaned in and gave you a hug, it was warm and you felt safe in his arms for the short moment they were around you.

You really did have great friends you thought.

With a quick goodbye, Jungkook left you alone with your thoughts.

PART 3

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #apologies for any spelling errors ive read over it a few times but even still i miss them #forbidden fic #mine

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ineffable-endearments · 4 years

Text

Under sun and shade alike

Aziraphale/Crowley Rating: Explicit Words: 2069 Content Notes and Warnings: explicit NSFT, he/him pronouns for both, the narrator addresses the reader for some reason, p-in-v intercourse, semi-public intercourse, fluffy and plotless Beta’d by Euterpein. Thank you very much!

It’s the future now, dear reader.

Set the scene: an early May morning, bright and sunny. A charming little Brighton inn, just a short drive from an old, half-maintained apple orchard. Inside one of the rooms, an angel (who you might not recognize as an angel if you haven’t heard the history yet) stands at the mirror, adjusting his bowtie with a prim enthusiasm that should be contradictory but somehow isn’t.

“I don’t suppose you’d be open to going for a walk,” he says, turning to his companion, who has his sunglasses on already and has returned to the bed for a good sprawl. (Though he’s much more shady-looking than the other, you would most likely not assume he’s literally a demon on first sight, either. He is, though, literally a demon.) “I did spot that nice orchard on our way in last night,” the angel adds.

The impulse to snarl about how demons don’t go for lovely walks in orchards has not gone away, no matter how retired he is. But the deep-down truth is this particular demon doesn’t, at heart, have a problem with orchards, or sunshine, or gentle outings with angels who are overexcited about springtime. And it’s their first vacation together under this...whatever sort of arrangement you’d call it when an angel and a demon cuddle on a regular basis and occasionally engage in the pleasures of the flesh.

So they head out.

The impending summer is an excited whisper among leaves in the apple trees, the sweet scent of their bloom lingering in the air. Amid a rather overgrown patch of especially verdant trees is a shed of some sort, bleached from the elements, apparently not in use by anyone except the two entities having an intimate moment against it.

Normally, the sight of a couple passionately making out in a relatively public place would draw negative attention, and maybe even the police as well, if they went at it for this long. You might cringe and wonder how people could possibly lose themselves that way in public. Aren’t they even a little self-conscious?

But, in addition to letting this happen in a locale that isn’t currently busy in the first place, these two are particularly good (supernaturally good) at not being noticed. So you wouldn’t, in fact, have any thoughts about them at all if I weren’t telling you all of this. They are surrounded by a vibrant Earthly beauty reminiscent of the very place where they met - and they can safely consider themselves alone together.

Continue on AO3 or read more below!

After a bit of hinting (“Let’s have a look at that quaint little building. Is it an abandoned shed?”) and a few shy gestures (the brush of their hands together, an intertwining of fingers and a gentle meandering toward the right spot), Aziraphale has finally got Crowley pulled in close to him. (It’d been Crowley’s idea to use the shed for support, nudging the angel against it as they kissed. Even in the haze of desire, as Crowley had removed his sunglasses for a better snog, he’d caught Aziraphale hastily double-checking their chosen spot for debris that might rub off on his precious coat; thankfully, he’d found none.)

“Positively delightful to be out here with you,” Aziraphale whispers against Crowley’s lips.

“Mmmmm, yes, the weather is nice, isn’t it.” Crowley lets his lips pull back in a smirk, just for a moment.

“You know full well,” Aziraphale says, before capturing Crowley’s mouth again, licking his way in with playful ferocity, “that I’m not talking about the weather.”

“Ah. Got a different kind of spring fever, have you?” Crowley nods vaguely downward, where Aziraphale’s been pressing his hips into Crowley’s, probably thinking he’s subtle.

“Angels don’t get any kind of spring fever.”

“And yet.” Crowley rolls his hips once.

“Just helping you blend in, my dear,” Aziraphale croons, almost effectively disguising the hitch in his breath with an arch of his eyebrows. “Springtime cavorting is a time-honored tradition among humans, after all.”

There is a grain of truth here. Though Crowley could never have said he understood it before they’d tried this together, and he still doesn’t understand how out-of-control some of the humans seem to get, they did throw a lot of “fertility festivals” around this time. At the very least, he now understands why a lot of people seem to like physical intimacy so much, and as he considers the metaphor, he can grasp why the sensual pleasures of the weather heating up and the flowers bursting open could pair well with the sensual pleasures of-- well. Of fucking.

Then again…

“Oh, they’re always looking for an excuse. Could there be someone here who’s got that in common with them?” Crowley teases, stroking his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls.

“Hardly my fault,” the angel murmurs against his lips, “when I’ve got the world’s first and best tempter here, always asking what I’d like.”

Crowley growls happily, pressing Aziraphale’s whole body against the wall as they kiss before trailing his way down Aziraphale’s throat. His kisses, punctuated by a gentle graze of teeth, draw forth the most sublime sounds from the angel, although he can’t help answering with his own sounds of enjoyment.

Crowley is excellent at reading desires. Right now, judging by the way he’s being pulled close, how he’s being caressed up and down, how Aziraphale’s hands go from playing with his hair to running along his spine to grabbing his arse and then back again, like he can’t decide where to settle, Crowley believes that maybe what Aziraphale wants is to be held in as many ways as possible all at once.

As many ways as possible.

And moreover, dear reader, while our demon is carefully conditioned to never, ever articulate such sentimentality out loud, he can empathize with what he very well knows our angel is looking for deep down: unconditional belonging, importance, adoration. Well, you can’t give those to somebody with sex alone, but you can make an example of it, and Crowley suspects a good orgasm would also be a welcome experience, if the heat being pressed against his crotch is any indication.

When he speaks, Crowley’s voice is a little rough, perhaps a little broken.

“Would you like,” he begins, kissing and nipping Aziraphale’s lip some more to stall. “Would you like it if I took you inside me?” And he strokes his fingers over the straining erection in Aziraphale’s trousers. Truth be told, Crowley’s own body is already hyper-receptive, as if making room. He can think of nothing but being filled.

Aziraphale hums. “Mmmmm, yes, please…”

Their clothes are barely even a thought at this point. The removal thereof could be narrated, but aside from Aziraphale’s vague understanding that he will eventually regret it if they don’t stay clean, our lovers have no interest in them. There’s no point in describing any of the garments they hastily push down and shove aside until they’re both exposed, Aziraphale leaning back against the shed and Crowley wrapping one very flexible leg around his hip, so they can press their naked parts together.

Aziraphale closes his eyes for a long, slow blink and takes a deep breath, which stutters on its way back out.

“Everything okay?” Crowley asks.

“Many times better than ‘okay,’” Aziraphale says. “Would you mind if I moved a little?” He places his hand on Crowley’s thigh, nudging his hips upwards by the slightest bit.

“You’re not even inside yet.”

“Oh, but it still feels exquisite. You’re so-- you’re so warm, Crowley, and soft, and,” he bites his own lip this time, “you’re sopping wet.”

Crowley is outright aching now, yearning to surround Aziraphale, to take him in and be the place where yet another part of him belongs. He circles his hips to rub his wet slit over Aziraphale’s arousal, provoking a delicious groan from the angel and very nearly moaning himself. “Well. Maybe it’s time to start in earnest, then?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale breathes, running his hands along Crowley’s thighs.

Keeping one arm around Aziraphale’s back, holding him tight for both love and stability, Crowley uses the other to reach between them, takes Aziraphale’s cock in hand, and rubs the head along his slit to get it all slick, nearly loses himself lingering against his swollen clit. The sound of his name spilling from Aziraphale’s mouth like pure gratitude refocuses him, reminds him he’s on his way to surround, to hold, to take in, to embrace.

Crowley poises Aziraphale at his entrance, his labia around the tip of the angel’s cock as if giving a kiss. “Angel,” he whispers, their eyes locking, and he pushes his hips forward, his welcoming cunt engulfing Aziraphale from head to hilt. “Oh, angel.” He sighs, lightheaded with Aziraphale’s hooded gaze only a few inches away, with the hot stretch of his girth satisfying the ache deep between Crowley’s legs.

Aziraphale’s eyes slide shut and he tips his head back. “Ooh. Crowley, I--” He pauses to gasp, grabs at the fabric over Crowley’s back. “I can’t last long.”

“You don’t worry about that,” Crowley says, voice low. He winds both arms and the leg he’s raised for access around Aziraphale’s soft, warm body in a tight hug, nibbles tenderly at Aziraphale’s earlobe. “Jusssst do what feels good,” he hisses.

It’s a good thing Crowley’s spine has such a fluid relationship with physics, because it allows him to thrust his hips in delightfully long, slow sweeping motions over Aziraphale’s length while holding him heart-to-heart, while drinking in kiss after kiss. Aziraphale graces Crowley’s lips with a series of soft, beautiful “oh”s and “ah”s, running his hands down Crowley’s back again to grab his arse and meet each of his thrusts, pushing as deeply inside his cunt as he can, murmuring the occasional compliment: “How lovely, to be inside you…oh, my, Crowley, you are exquisite…”

And Aziraphale was right - it isn’t long before he climaxes. The rest of him goes still as he spills, and Crowley reaches down to finger his clit until his own orgasm builds to a fluttering crescendo around Aziraphale’s still-twitching cock.

Their pleasure sounds quiet into slowly-calming breaths, eyes closed for several seconds before their taught corporations relax and both settle down together, Crowley’s forehead against the shed over Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“You do, occasionally, come up with a surprise,” Crowley says at last.

There’s a secretive glance from the angel. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sex in a public place, Aziraphale. In case you hadn’t noticed. How premeditated was this?” Crowley is sure his delight is palpable; he can feel it beaming from his face as he pushes off the wooden siding. Aziraphale follows.

A snap of fingers and the two of them are all tidied up again, a dusty, prim, and proper bookseller and a maybe-former-rock-star in expensive sunglasses strolling in tranquility under the apple trees. If you stumbled around the corner at this moment, you would likely not suspect they’d known each other for over six thousand years, and while you might detect some flirtatious tension in the air, you probably would not assume they’d just been furiously rutting each other into the throes of orgasm against the side of the undisturbed old shed.

Aziraphale sniffs. “It’s doubtful whether it counts as public if humans are incapable of noticing us.”

“It’s the...oh, fair enough.”

“Besides, I said I was tempted, remember?” After this, all of the smugness melts off the angel’s expression, and he’s left with a tender look that isn’t, theoretically, supposed to turn the insides of demons into a mess of pure sugar. “By the very best. Come along, let’s finish our walk.”

And this, reader, is where our story leaves off for now. Take this idea with you, if you’d like…

Two beings, not completely like or unlike you and I, once reached across the gulf between Heaven and Hell. They shared secrets in the Garden of Eden, just as the first rain began to fall and humankind, too, was falling for the first time ever over the consuming of a forbidden apple. More than six thousand years and story after infinite story later, the very same pair has found the freedom to choose Earth and each other. They’ve just paused to make love in an apple orchard of humankind’s cultivation, and then set out together to continue on their way under sun and shade alike.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses

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geekgirles · 4 years

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Una rosa es una rosa

In all honesty, this one-shot is an excuse to describe an outfit I came up with for Poppy, but hey, it got me to write something, didn’t it? XD

Special thanks to my lovelies @foxlanaeshrek and @tipolover22. You guys rock! And because you do, this one-shot is set on the Rock!Branch AU.

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With the Skulls and Roses Ball fast approaching, Branch asks Poppy to go with him as his date. However, an unfortunate comment sets Poppy out to prove to her boyfriend she can be the last thing she expected she'd want to emulate: a Rock troll.

Ever since the different tribes of trolls had been reunited and agreed to coexist once again, many changes were made to Troll Village. It had been decided the home of the Pop trolls would take in the rest of the kingdoms, because it was the one that held the most chances for other trolls to make a home of their own, adapting the landscape to their particular needs. And it had the sweetest acoustics by far, too.

Now that all tribes lived together, the leaders had agreed on creating spaces where all trolls could enjoy each other’s company at the same time as any individual kingdom could gather to speak about issues that concerned their kind specifically.

One of such places being a grand pod, known as the Conference-pod, that was built the closest to the centre of the village as possible. It was of every hue that was once represented by the six strings that used to hold each realm’s music. The top was electric blue, representing the techno string; its bottom was a golden yellow, that of the classical string; rotating around the spacious place were purple swirls and warm orange rope-like shapes, symbolising the funk and country strings, respectively; and finally, in the very middle of the pod, where the entrance was, zig-zagged blood red shapes intertwined themselves with bright pink hearts and flowers, a reflection of the rock and pop strings.

Said pod served as a ballroom and an assembly room. In there the trolls would celebrate any party in need of an indoor space, as well as the leaders meet to discuss different ways of ensuring a better collaboration and coexistence between their people. Even so, the place served another purpose, any king or queen (mayor and conductor in the Country and Classical trolls’ case) could request to use the pod in order to hold a party or meeting exclusively for their kind.

Being that last purpose the reason why it was currently being occupied by the Rock trolls, Queen Barb currently addressing her subjects, “As you know, our annual Skulls and Roses Ball is in two days’ time. I doubt I need to remind you it’s our most, if not only, formal event.” She said as she looked at her people. “I’ve already asked Queen Poppy if we can use the pod for it and she gave me the green light, so dudes”, she leaned in closer from the podium she was standing, “we’ve got a lot to do!”

After a minute or two she gestured for her trolls to calm down after the uproar that came when she shared the news, “Captain Branch here will read you the memo. They’re all yours, Branch.”

“Thank you, your rockness,” he thanked her as he took the place she’d previously been in, “As the queen just explained, the Skulls and Roses Ball is a formal event. That means the requirements for it are: we must all look our best, we must bring plus ones with us ‒if somebody can’t bring a plus one, either because they’re in a poly or just can’t find anyone to go with; we must be informed ahead of time‒, and absolutely, under no circumstances must we trash the place. Did I make myself clear?”

He narrowed his eyes at the lack of response from his comrades and repeated himself, louder, “I said, are we clear?!” Immediately, a chorus of agreements and clapping hands came, satisfying him. “That will be all. Dismissed; we have much to do.”

As the Rock trolls retreated, Branch stayed behind to clean up the pod. In doing so, he was approached by the queen of rock, a knowing smirk placed on her lips, “So…,” she began playfully, “are you bringing Poppy as your date, Branch?”

“That is correct, my Queen,” he turned back to face her, then his expression became worried. “Why, is there a problem with my decision, your Rolling Highness?” Branch feared not being able to have Poppy accompany him to the ball. He was well aware his relationship with the pink queen ‒the pink queen of Pop, to be precise‒ was something unheard of, even from back when the trolls still lived together the first time. But he simply couldn’t take anybody else as his date to the event; she was his one and only and he would not accept anyone but her.

“No, no. It’s cool, dude”, the redhead replied, motioning with her hand to ease his concerns, “Popcorn is pretty hard-core once you get to know her.” She smirked at him, which he answered with a smirk of his own. It was true, Poppy could be a force to be reckoned with if pushed too far; outright terrifying. He loved her so much. “But,” that made him worried, “you should really let her know she can’t come in her usual pop fashion.” Barb was now looking at him, her expression serious. “This is a rock formal event, Branch, she must look the part.”

The Captain nodded, “I will make sure she knows, your rockness.”

After the Rock Queen took her leave Branch was sure to follow, he had to find Poppy.

..........................................................................................................................

Poppy could barely contain her excitement the moment her charming boyfriend handed her an invitation ‒scrapbooked by him, might I add‒ to invite her to an upcoming rock event as his date. That would be their first appearance as an official couple! She really wanted to sing as loudly as she could to express her excitement right now. But, figuring there were still things they had to talk about, she did the next best thing; she tackled Branch to the ground in a hug.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” She practically yelled, “Yes, Branch! Of course I’ll be your date!”

After allowing himself to relish the attention his beautiful ladylove was giving him, he reluctantly broke the hug, “Poppy, angel, there’s something I should tell you.”

She looked at him with a furrowed brow. Seriousness wasn’t really the mood she’d thought he’d be in after inviting her to a party. “Okay…,” she said, feeling a little uneasy, “What’s up?”

Branch took a deep breath, “You see, the Skulls and Roses Ball is a huge deal for us Rock trolls. It is literally the only day of the year where we are expected to behave and follow certain rules.” His nervous gaze found her confused one, her nodding head encouraging him to continue. “This is the first time ever a troll that worships a different type of music will be attending, so I need you to be in your best behaviour.”

Wording his thoughts like that had been a mistake, he could tell from the queen’s narrowing eyes. “What do you mean by ‘my best behaviour’?” she air-quoted.

“I need you to look and act like a poised, elegant rock troll.” He explained, hoping he didn’t screw up. “I know it’ll probably be difficult-“

“Why would it be difficult?” She cut him off, crossing her arms. She had a feeling she knew where he was going, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“W-well… Y-you k-know… Be-because…”, Ugh, how did she manage to make him lose his usual level head?! In twenty years nobody had ever managed to make him lose his level head!

Then again, he had never met anyone as unique, inspiring, and incredible as Poppy… Oh, Rock. He really did have it bad.

“No, Branch, I’m afraid I do not know. Please, enlighten me…” she challenged.

“W-well, because…” he averted his eyes from her as he uttered the words that were sure to cause him several nights away from his pink, sweetly scented Eden, “…you’re a Pop troll.”

At the confirmation of her suspicions, something stirred inside Poppy. The same kind of resolve that only awakened when her people had truly needed it. But this time it was mixed, once again, with the desire to prove herself… And a hint of smugness.

And so, with a new purpose, she slowly got closer to her tattooed beau, a fire in her pink irises that, hadn’t it been for the fact that he was now slightly disturbed by the heat of its fury, under any other circumstances the Captain of the Rock trolls would have found insanely hot. Without a warning, she quickly pecked him on the lips before whispering, “Challenge accepted.”

As the retreating form of the Pop Queen was finally far enough, Branch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“…What was that about?”

..........................................................................................................................

Poppy had been pacing and ranting inside the Fashionistas’ pod-shop for twenty minutes. Any troll from another land would be at a loss at what to do with the agitated ball of pink fury, but the twins, having been close friends with the queen since childhood, knew just exactly what was troubling her.

“So Branch invited you to Rock troll party-“, Satin started.

“-But he doesn’t actually think you can pull it off?” Chenille finished.

“Yes!” Poppy threw her arms at her sides, exasperated with her boyfriend. “I can’t believe him! We’ve been together for months and he still doesn’t trust me when it comes to his people and their customs! Like, what gives?!”

The twins exchanged a look. As siblings that were literally bound to each other, they knew of unsaid things, hidden behind bickering, better than anyone. “Poppy, hon.” Satin called her as Chenille put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

When their friend was finally looking at them, the blue sister began to explain, “We don’t think Branch doesn’t trust you.”

“Really?” Poppy asked, incredulous.

“Really.” The pink twin assured her with a soft smile.

“Then why doesn’t he think I can actually behave like a ‘poised, elegant Rock troll’?” She rolled her eyes as she did a half-hearted impression of her boyfriend’s voice.

“It’s probably not that he doesn’t think you can’t behave like one of his kind-,” Chenille tried to reason.

“-But more like he’s trying to protect you from them.” Satin added.

“What?”

“You know how we trolls can be, Poppy”, Satin shrugged, “We get very defensive of the things we care about.”

“So Branch probably fears his people will give you a hard time if you don’t act like them on such a special occasion.” Chenille smiled at her, reassuringly.

The royal troll’s eyes widened. It all made so much more sense now! Of course her romantic, thoughtful, and caring boyfriend would never think anything but highly of her! He just had a hard time delivering harsh things gently due to his upbringing. Sometimes even to her. He’d explained himself before.

“I want to make things right.” She spoke up. “I want to make Branch see I can handle myself so he doesn’t worry to death for my sake.” Poppy suddenly felt very small under the amused smirks and knowing eyes of the twins. She knew they saw right through her… “And… I also want… to… make his jaw… drop… when he sees me.” She admitted quietly, a blush spreading over her already pink cheeks.

The Fashion Twins simply giggled. Those two were adorable!

“Luckily for you-,“ Satin began to speak.

“-We happen to have the perfect idea in mind for your outfit.” Chenille completed the sentence as she showed Poppy a very peculiar flower. A flower Poppy knew all too well but had never given much thought. After all, it wasn’t the kind of flower a Pop troll would have a soft spot for.

“A-are you sure?”

“Positive.” They answered in sync. “Besides, it sure is perfect if what you’re aiming for is something that helps you erase your pop vibes temporarily. It does symbolise death, hatred, farewells, and tragic romance… It’s sure to grant you the darker side that is so characteristic of Rock trolls, since it’s a stark contrast to your usual, well, you.”

Poppy didn’t know which twin had said it, but she didn’t care. She had the perfect chance to become a poised, elegant rock troll and she sure as Hair was going to use it.

.............................................................................................................................

Branch had been waiting anxiously at the entrance of the Conference-pod for the last ten minutes. Despite their disagreement, Poppy had sent him a card saying she’d be there at 7:00PM. And yet, it was already 7:10PM and she was nowhere in sight.

He couldn’t help but think back on their “argument”. Ugh, if only he’d been better at choosing his words! How he was simultaneously able to smooth talk his girlfriend until he swept her off her feet and speak to her with his foot in his mouth was beyond him! But alas, it was a power he had been both blessed and cursed with, apparently.

He was also feeling very curious regarding her outfit of choice. Even if he knew for a fact Pop trolls had their own formal events, a part of him still worried about his queen’s (the one by choice, not the one he’d sworn to serve because he was her Captain) choice.

He, himself, never really lost sleep when it came to his own clothing. He was dressed smartly; wearing a buttoned-up white shirt, a black tuxedo and a navy blue tie and waistband to match his dark hair, which was carefully combed back, giving him a refined presence. Even if his attire was appropriate for the occasion, his mind was still going back to Poppy’s.

Just what would she be wearing?

“Branch, over here!”

As he turned his head to the sound of his name, he could feel his eyes widening like saucers, his rocker heart skipping a beat, his jaw hanging right open... And he was pretty sure he’d stopped breathing, too.

It was so strange. The female in front of him looked so much like Poppy. Her skin was the same pink he’d compared to the sunset’s hue dozens of times. Her magenta eyes still sparkled with the same sense of wonder and excitement Poppy’s always reflected. Her glittery freckles shimmered when the light hit them just right… And yet, the troll before him looked nothing like his sweet, happy angel of morning.

The pink troll before him had a certain feeling of mystery and danger to her. Her beauty screamed enchantress, siren, goddess of the night! …Of course it was Poppy, Poppy always looked like a goddess! He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Her magenta hair was reminiscent of a bud that was yet to bloom, with both the strands at the top of her mane and framing her face shaped after two perfectly round spirals. But what really caught his eye, though, wasn’t the extra softness it seemed to radiate, but the single black streak that went across his mate’s silky locks. A black highlight he’d only ever seen once before; when she was (seemingly) turned into a Rock troll.

Glinting in the night almost as much as her rosy gaze, three silver earrings gave the pink troll a bit of a wilder look. Two of them adorning her right ear, and one on her left. The smoky eyeshadow she wore made her eyes resemble two magenta lights in a fog of mystery. A spiked choker covered her neck, forcing his mind to daydream with the thought of marking it with a love bite.

The masterpiece she was using as dress was black and strapless, it hugged her body perfectly; the bodice accentuating her curves in such a manner that it reminded him of a corset. And the skirt, the long, filmy skirt, had a cut on both sides of it; teasing Branch with the sight of Poppy’s long, perfect legs. From closer inspection, the unusually smooth texture of the dress reminded him of a flower’s petals, rather than fabric. And yet, its rose-like velvety feel gave it a quality no other silk could amount to achieve. It was almost as if Poppy had picked rose petals and woven them together to create such garment.

That’s when it clicked. The dress was inspired after a black rose.

What really sold the look, however, were the twin armlets she wore, alongside her headband. The bracelets, made out of obsidian, were crafted in the form of vines with thorns. And, in contrast to the Pop Queen’s usual style, the headband followed a simple design; a halo of silver decorated by three black roses.

He gulped.

From the corner of his eyes he could see Riff arriving with his own date. At the sight of his Captain, he subtly motioned to the corner of his mouth. Following the movement with his own hand he realised what the drummer was referring to, he discreetly wiped the drool falling out of his open mouth.

A triumphant grin made its way to Poppy’s lips. Judging by the look on her boyfriend’s face ‒and his jaw, which was barely avoiding touching the floor‒, she’d succeeded. She looked like a classy Rock troll. Still, even if it was just to tease him, she asked, “So? How do I look?”

Breaking out of his stupor, Branch lightly shook his head before speaking up, “Poppy you… Rock, I don’t know what to say!”

She giggled, “Tell me, do I look like the perfect Rock troll now?” She wanted to sound confident, but a part of her still feared not meeting her boyfriend’s expectations, making her direct her eyes to the floor, only looking up at Branch ever so slightly.

His heart sunk at the insecurity hidden behind her melodic voice, “Poppy,” gently grabbing her chin, he directed her eyes to his before continuing, “you’ll always be perfect for me.”

A soft smile appeared on her lips at the clever reference of the beautiful ballad Branch once serenaded her with to express the depth of his feelings for her. He truly had the soul of a poet.

He then offered her his arm, “Shall we, my lady?”

“Branch, before we go in, I wanted to tell you something.” She watched as he turned, fully facing her now with his icy blue peepers. She had his full attention. “I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows knotted in confusion, “You’re sorry? What are you sorry for, Pops? I’m the one who doubted you!”

“No, you didn’t.” She said with finality. “I now know you weren’t doubting my blending in with your people, you were worried they wouldn’t be pleased with my ensemble and give me a hard time for it.” She sighed. “You were just trying to protect me.”

She really did get it. Sometimes he wondered if this selfless creature could read him like an open book. As a matter of fact, that didn’t sound so bad. “Yes, you’re right. That’s what got me worried, but still, Poppy, I should’ve voiced it differently.” He let out a humourless chuckle, “Looking back, no wonder you thought I was underestimating you for being a Pop troll. So,” he shrugged after holding her hands, “I’m sorry too.”

After a minute of silence, he asked, “Does this mean the gates to Heaven won’t be closing on me?”

Poppy snorted at that, “No, they won’t. ‘Sides, it’s not like you don’t have the key to them anyways…” She replied in a sultry voice.

Smiling widely at each other, no more words needed to be said. So, instead, they just closed the distance with a soft kiss before settling in an embrace.

Poppy was the first to break the silence, “Branch, I love you. And it means so much to me that you worry about my wellbeing so much, really, it does; but I don’t want you to have a heart attack every single time I find myself in a difficult situation. I swear, I can take care of myself; I did save my people from the bergens, after all.” She winked at him.

The blue troll chuckled, “Yes, you do.” He then offered her his arm again, “Now, shall we join the others, my rose?”

She took it, “Well of course! But tell me, Branch, do you really think I’ll be fine at the ball?”

He gently kissed her nose, a stark contrast to the roughness he treated almost everyone else with, “Believe me, they’re fools if they can’t see you’re the most tender flower in the rose bush.”

#Trolls #trolls world tour #twt #twt spoilers #trolls au #trolls fanfiction #Rock! Branch AU #Poppy #Branch #broppy #queen barb #riff #satin and chenille #rock trolls

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ciarawritesmarvel · 5 years

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first impressions - steve rogers x reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: The reader in this universe just does swear a lot and she doesn't apologise for it (but I do a little bit), some arguing but it only serves the sexual tension ;)

A/N: Yes, this is another oneshot belonging to the Number Five Universe, which now has its own post with all the oneshots I’ve planned in chronological order. That does not mean that is the order I’ll post them. You can VERY EASILY read this on its own. but this is the meeting of the Y/N and Steve we know and love. I love you all, and thank you for all the participation in my 3.5k celebration - more to come on that in 12 followers time! :)

masterlist is in my bio, tags are in a reblog... please drop an ask to be tagged in steve/number five/all works! <3

---

“Adjustment Officer? Really Fury? You even have a name for it?” you said exasperatedly as you spun in his chair. Every time he thought you had stopped, you pushed off with your toes against his desk again, spinning more furiously than before and eventually he grabbed the armrest and stopped you dead in your tracks with a sigh.

“Could I have my chair back please, Agent?”

“You can have your chair back if I can have my real job back,” you retorted and when there was no answer you carefully kicked his hand away from the chair and resumed your spinning.

“Stop being a damn child, Y/N,” he said, leaning against his own desk and folding his arms across his chest, “I need somebody that I trust to do this. You know that list isn’t very long.”

“What about Maria?”

“She’s busy.”

“So am I, Nick!” you threw your arms up in the air, still spinning but with most of your momentum lost, “I’m fucking busy too! I do not have the time - or the patience - to babysit your latest pet project.”

You finally stood from his chair and crossed the floor to stand beside the floor to ceiling windows that lined one of the walls. You looked out across the city. Steven Grant Rogers, Captain America himself, born in 1918, was out there somewhere, defrosting as you spoke and you were supposed to be looking after him? Showing him the ropes of the 21st century? Teaching him how to use a computer mouse and taking him for ice cream on a Friday evening for being such a good boy. Not happening.

“I’m not asking you, Agent. You know that.”

And yet apparently, it was happening.

All too soon, you found yourself walking into a room with a certain supersoldier - not that you’d ever be caught calling him that - opposite you and sat at a table that he seemed to be handcuffed to.

“Who did that?” you nodded to his trapped hands and he looked up at you warily, regarding you with an apprehension which could only have come from so many SHIELD agents sedating you and taking you to a strange room that you weren’t allowed to leave in a time seventy years after your own. It was a strain to remember this man had lived through WWII.

“They did,” he eventually answered, glancing to the two guards posted at the doorway, guns in hand, eyes staring straight ahead without a falter. You rolled your eyes.

You took a pin from your hair and straightened it with your teeth, smiling apologetically at him as you picked the lock of his handcuffs and let them clatter down onto the tabletop.

“Ma’am? We’re under orders-”

“New orders,” you interrupted, turning to them with hands firmly planted on your hips, “Go to Starbucks and get yourselves something fancy. I’ve got this.”

“Ma’am-”

“I’ve got this,” you assured them, a twinkle in your eye that went hand in hand with the steely glare and was just enough to get them to nod at your demand and make their way out of the room, leaving just you and the Captain in the empty room.

“Was that a tactic to get me on side?” he asked when you’d sat down opposite him and leaned over the table, elbows resting on either side of you, face studying him lightly. Taking him in.

“No,” you shrugged, leaning back and placing your feet on the table, one after another, ankles crossed and posture completely relaxed, “I just find them annoying. And I’m almost positive I don’t need protection from Captain America.”

“Almost?”

“Well, we don’t know what seventy years under ice has done to you yet, do we?” you joked but his face fell and you inwardly cursed yourself. Bad timing.

“It’s Steve,” he said suddenly, tone harsh and you looked at him quizzically, “Not Captain America. Just Steve.”

“Okay ‘Just Steve’,” you addressed him, finally seeing just the hint of a smile twitching at the right corner of his mouth, “You understand what’s happened now? I believe somebody came and filled you in?”

“Vaguely.”

“Okay. Well, I’ve been assigned as your-” you shuddered, “-Adjustment Officer. My sole job is to help you in your transition, answer any and all questions you might have and to eventually ensure that you become one of our best assets.”

“What did you do wrong to get this job?” Steve asked, a dark and hollow chuckle escaping him and you frowned.

“More like what did I do right. This is an important job, Cap- Steve. Our director needed somebody he could trust.”

“Great. That’s just great,” Steve retorted, his eyes flashing with an anger that you’d never seen on the numerous posters of him you’d seen, “I’ve been assigned a glorified babysitter but at least it’s someone trustworthy according to the guy with the eyepatch.”

You took a deep breath.

“I know this must be a difficult adjustment for you. That’s why I’m-”

“No, Agent, the reason you’re here is because you have to be. You don’t want to be, or you wouldn’t have physically shuddered when you talked about it just now. You’d rather be in the field, with a reason to use that gun you’ve got hidden in your boot, but instead you’ve been stuck with the old man and his retirement plan,” his voice was getting louder and louder until eventually he was leaning over the table, palms pressed into the metal as he dropped his voice low and hissed, “Well sorry sweetheart, but I don’t want a babysitter and I certainly don’t want you.”

You stayed in your position. Unfazed. Steve wasn’t a threat to you. But your jaw was clenched and your body rigid. Because it was now clear that he was going to be annoying as all hell.

“You listen here, sweetheart,” you spat out the word as if it tasted bad on your tongue as you stood from your chair to gain the height advantage, “You’re damn right. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have to look after you. You’re a burden. You’re too emotional. You’re a liability. But I’ve been given an assignment. So we are stuck with each other and unless you get your head out of your ass and decide to play along, being stuck with me will be worse than being frozen in time. Do we understand each other, ‘Just Steve’?”

He gaped up at you, jaw slackened and eyes slightly wider. Then he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and dropped his eye contact.

“We do,” he muttered and then, with a renewed fire, “Just don’t expect me to like it.”

You scoffed.

“You and me both, old man.”

---

You were sat on a park bench. Steve Rogers was sat beside you.

Well beside you wasn’t quite the right term. He was actually sat well away from you, in a position that could only be described as hunched. It was quiet. Peaceful, even. Until-

“So these phones…” Steve was glancing from person to person around them, watching them tapping away at tiny screens, “They’re all connected.”

“In a way,” you replied, “They’re all on a network which connects them which is how they communicate with each other. Electromagnetic waves and stuff such as that.”

Steve nodded. Took it in. In all fairness, he was a very quick learner.

A lot of that came from the fact that he actually listened to you.

“Thank you.”

He always said it. Meant it. You could tell. You knew liars, hundreds upon thousands of liars. Rogers wasn’t one. He told the truth, even if sometimes you wished he didn’t.

Three weeks into this arrangement and you felt like sharing some truth of your own.

“Hey Steve,” you said calmly and he turned to face you, “I never said - I really admire you. Everything you did. It was a big inspiration, you know, when I was training.”

He looked utterly taken aback. As if that was the absolute last thing he expected to come out of your mouth at that moment. You tried not to be too offended at the fact that he thought you incapable of giving him a compliment.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he smiled, his small little genuine smile you’d only seem twice so far. You resolved to see it more often, “I appreciate that. You have a lot of…”

He paused. You got antsy.

“A lot of…?”

“Definitely not patience,” he joked and you huffed and turned away from him, prompting him to answer seriously, “A lot of heart. You’re impatient and you swear too much and you’re generally quite insufferable. But you have a lot of heart.”

When you glanced back at him in surprise, he was back at his people watching, refusing to meet your eye. Despite everything, you felt your heart grow a tinge warmer along with the back of your neck.

“Yeah well you’re stubborn and far too serious and generally intolerable but you have a lot of heart too, Spangles.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed softly and then, as an afterthought, “But in case it wasn’t clear enough - you’re still an ass.”

He laughed, shaking his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep out the chill in the air. You folded yours into your armpits. Tapped your toes against the grass.

“And you’re still a glorified babysitter so who’s the real loser here?” he asked smugly, sitting back into the bench in a rare moment of comfort. You leaned back too and enjoyed the brief relaxation.

“The grown man who needs the babysitter - duh.”

He grumbled a little at that and the sound made you smile despite yourself. That, and the fact you had a lot of heart was still replaying in your quickly fraying mind.

“Anyway, nanny, I believe I was promised ice cream?”

“It’s freezing,” you deadpanned, blinking at him but he simply pulled himself from his seat and looked at you expectantly.

“And?”

You muttered expletives to yourself as you swatted the hand he’d held out to help you up away and pulled yourself up on your own instead.

“Come on then, you child.”

Steve followed behind you with little complaint.

---

Six weeks into the arrangement. Things were not smooth sailing, but there were never going to be. There was still this same understanding though, one that just managed to keep things at a simmering tension, just stopped things from boiling over.

Most of the time.

“Honestly, if you don’t get out of my apartment right now I swear I will call Fury and tell him to find me a new babysitter,” you gaped at Steve as he spoke, eyes wide but he merely shrugged, “I’m not kidding.”

“Steve, I am not having chinese again. That is final.”

“And that is why I’m telling you to get out.”

Admittedly, things ‘boiling over’ no longer meant biting matches where you’d try your best to truly cut into each other and instead had changed into what could only be described as ‘comfortable bickering’. Your life had been many things, but you couldn’t remember for the life of you a time when any aspect of it could be called comfortable.

“Fine, we can have chinese. But four times in one week isn’t healthy, Spangles.”

“I’m a super soldier, I eat what I want to.”

“And what about me?” you ask and when he shrugs in response you mumble, “Fuckin’ bastard.”

“That’s 36 minutes. A new record.”

“What?”

“36 minutes without swearing. That’s the longest ever!” Steve says, sarcastically proud of you in just the worst way and you sink into the couch cushions in response, folding your arms.

“Why do you always have to be so fu-“

Your phone rang and interrupted you. You answer. Maria is on the other end, tone clinical, explaining a situation that was all too familiar. A threatened terrorist attack, many people in danger. You were needed. You gave her a rough ETA and hung up.

“I’m coming,” Steve was already up off the sofa and you knew he’d heard your phone call. You sighed as you stood too, brushing down your jeans and pocketing your phone.

“We’ve been over this Steve, you’ve not been cleared for-“

“I’m coming.”

He was persistent. You took the silent opportunity to glance at him and saw the man that you’d always seen on the posters. The determination. The steel. The...concern? Well that was new.

“I can handle myself, Steve.”

“Oh I’m well aware,” he said, with just the slightest shiver as he remembered the time you’d punched him in the gut for one of his comments in the first week, “But I’m coming. You and I? We protect people. Let me do what I do best.”

There was an unspoken extra word, please, that you didn’t even need to hear to have your pulse pick up by four beats per minute. But only four, which wasn’t too bad, you reasoned. And in your mind, there wasn’t a choice.

Because you did protect people. And so did he. So who were you to stop him?

“Okay.”

You readied yourselves and stepped out of the door, taking the stairs down two at a time and you hopped into the driver’s seat without a second thought. He didn’t question it.

You seemed to understand yours and Steve’s understanding more and more every day.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers oneshot #captain america imagine #captain america fluff #captain america oneshot #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfiction #first impressions #univer5e

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houkuaichuii · 5 years

Text

Did You Know.

I haven’t written anything in a year and it’s safe to say that I really did struggle getting back into it. But!! I’ve fallen into the hole of MLQC and I can’t get back up, so I’m stuck here I guess????? ANYWAYS, a fic lowkey inspired by @fruit-cupz jealousy headcanons because there is a void within me that I need!! To!! Feel!!

Pairing: Victor/MC(Reader) Word Count: ~3580

Also, I did not proof-read it. I should have, but I’m in the middle of my exams and I just wanted to get this one out of there--

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

He saw the way their eyes followed you, possibly admiring the way the dress clung onto your figure; or perhaps how the pendant hanging against your sternum reflected the brightness in your eyes and in your smile. He heard them chatter, whispering words of your presence; or maybe of your beauty, to which he had silently described as ethereal the moment you exited your apartment building.

God, what was he thinking.

Inviting you--- no, ordering you to come to tonight’s event after a short protest was received from your end. He had only done so for your sake, thought of it as a way to build connections, and he was, after all, only looking out for his investment. But after seeing as to how you were then surrounded by people whose gazes were that of predators, he couldn’t help but feel a form of twist within. And the fact that you had already been approached by no less than five men in just the span of an hour upon arrival, Victor was forced to maintain a rather neutral stance as he remained beside you, listening to the stories of those who were obviously pouring out the effort to impress you.

A quick glance at you and Victor released a small sigh at how invested you were. Could you not tell that certain details were being exaggerated, and that there was absolutely no possible way that Mr. Morgan managed to fight a bear all on his own? And yet there you were, focused intently to every word said, laughing alongside the rest at what he could only deem as horrible jokes.

How was it that he barely heard you laugh like this?

At most, all he had ever gotten was the suppressed sound of a giggle over the phone.

“And that was how I got this.” Mr. Morgan ended his recount there, pointing to a small scar that ran downwards from the upper right of his lip, to just centre of his chin. The action had the others leaning in closer, inspecting with curious eyes. It had you doing so as well, while Victor remained where he was, taking a sip from his glass of rich, red wine.

“It’s barely visible now.” You commented, “If you don’t mind me saying, I think it actually adds to your charm, Mr. Morgan.”

Victor immediately shifted his attention to the back of your head, brows furrowed together in surprise. Had he heard you right?

The man of subject merely grinned in response, a twinkle in his look that nearly had Victor scoffing. “Please, how many times have I told you that you can call me Alex. It’s not like you’ve only just met me to still be addressing me as ‘mister’.”

“Not like you two are so close for you to be on a first-name basis, either.” With words muttered from behind the glass he had held close to his lips, a hint of a scowl appeared just before he took another long sip. The dryness of the fermented drink was somewhat soothing, acting as a momentary distraction for him as he caught your gaze. Seemingly, his response was unheard of by the company, with the exception of you, who had looked at him with curiosity and confusion.

He said nothing and just shrugged, having Mrs. de Rochefort opening a new topic.

“That actually reminds me, Sunny-Side Corporation will be holding a charity ball next month. They’ve decided that the theme will be masquerade,” A pause, “Or was it fairy tale, I’m not sure. Of course everyone will be getting official invitations soon, just letting you all know in advance.”

“So… dancing?” Mr. Morgan asked.

“Yes, Alexander. Dancing.”

And that brought in another question for you not a second too soon, “How do you feel about dancing?”

You blinked several times, and Victor allowed himself that moment to quirk the corner of his lips upwards, reminiscing of the time when he had taught you how to dance, only to actually have been given the chance to hold you close later that night. Needless to say, he was quite proud of you, having had left him in awe at how fast you had learnt within an afternoon.

“I can’t exactly say that I’m fond of it…” You started with a shy smile, “I took lessons when I was younger, but that was as far as I got.”

Did you just forget how often you lost your footing and stepped on his toes multiple times? Speechless as he was, the CEO clenched his jaw at that thought.

“I see,” Mr. Morgan nodded his head, his supposed fascinated expression barely faltering, “Would you still honour me a dance tonight, however?”

Well, somebody was certainly exuding confidence.

Before you could answer, Victor took a step closer next to you and spoke with his words laced with humour, “I’m not sure whether that would be a good idea; last time I danced with her, my feet had bruises for days.”

You were openly gaping at him, supposedly shocked at how he had exposed you like that. But with no apology in mind, he simply wrapped an arm around your waist and stood close shamelessly; as if he had every single right to be there.

“Oh, Victor, she can’t be worse than my wife!” Exclaimed an elderly looking man, whose wife stood beside him, slapping his arm right after the comment, “When I had my first dance with Elaine, I just had to come into terms with the fact that she wasn’t perfect.”

“Harold!”

“Now, now, even when you stepped on all of my toes back then, I still saw you as the most beautiful woman in the room.”

Amidst the soft feeling that had taken over the group, a certain individual cleared his throat, “I hold no expectations, and if bruised feet is the consequence, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” A wink.

Is he blind? Or is he stupid?

Victor masked his annoyance with a form of professional charm, smile lines deepening as he said, “Then again, it is your feet that you’re risking. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” With that, he finished the rest of his wine and stepped away from you, letting his arm drop down to his side in reluctance, “Now if you may excuse me, I think another drink is to be had.”

Even footsteps, even breathing, he made his way through the crowd for the open bar on the other side. He could have gotten a glass off from one of the waiters, could have continued on with the conversation, but he was truly in need of cognac. After all, considering just what he had undergone, he deserved that much, didn’t he?

You in that satin dress of yours, revealing the skin of your back to everyone who dared to catch a glimpse. There were also the heels and the slit in the skirt, which had been threateningly high as it parted the fabric when you strode to the car earlier that night. And whoever decided that it was a good idea for your hair to have been styled in such an updo… well, they deserved praise. With your neck exposed to him in such a way, and the necklace complimenting your complexion, it took Victor quite a bit to keep himself from doing something that was certainly not quite… him.

Just thinking about it then made him want to go back and drag you away.

What a foolish, foolish thought.

Composure was key, although that Morgan certainly needed to shut up.

Him and his pride in fighting a bear single-handedly, what a joke. And to think that the man had the audacity to look at you as a woman he was to take home at the end of the event, Victor scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew that you would never consider such an idea; was even more sure that you were oblivious to the aspect.

But what if you weren’t?

That possibility had Victor slowing down, stopping just in front of the bar with a crease between his brows. He sighed, rolling his neck into comfort as he suddenly felt a pinch somewhere in between. If you were truly considering the idea, then perhaps you were much dumber than he imagined. Out of all men, why would you have entertained the notion of going home with one who had to exaggerate his story just to get your attention and interest? However, even though Victor could not deny him of his ability to swoon you with compliments and words that were thick with flirtation, Victor had seen better.

“What would you like, sir?” A bartender stood on the other side, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Hennessy, please.”

“Didn’t you say that you were sticking to wine tonight?” A soft voice from behind, and he had to suppress a shiver being sent down his spine. He knew exactly who it belonged to without having to see.

He called the owner more than he should.

“The wine’s good, it’s just not going to help me last through the night with all these people here.” was his response as he fixed his cuff-links.

You took the space beside him, and he felt you watch him as you usually did in periods of silence.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to go dance with… what’s-his-face.”

“When did I say that I was going to dance with Alex?”

He finally brought himself to turn around and leaned back against the bar with crossed arms, amusement lacing his words as he peered at you, “Alex? So you are on first-name basis. You two got close awfully fast.”

He observed the way you huffed, a tinge of redness making their way to the apples of your cheeks. Heh, cute, he contemplated, smiling inwardly as he frequently did whenever you showed such a reaction. It was one of the few reasons as to why he enjoyed teasing you, poking at you with fun until that expression of annoyance or embarrassment made its way to the surface. He deemed it as a reward throughout the day-- that and hearing your voice through the phone.

Strange how he didn’t know when or how it began, but he took pleasure in basking in your presence in one way or another. Not that he was ever going to admit that, of course.

He then heard you say something under your breath, though failed to make out the words. And just when he was about to ask for clarification, you perked up with what he assumed as realisation. What ran through your head to have had you look at him like that? Uncertainty was what went through his, and it had written itself all over his profile as he waited for you to speak.

“Are you jealous, Victor?”

Silence.

The bartender returned with his glass of cognac, which had been placed behind him with the quiet words of, “Here you go, sir.”

Was he jealous?

No.

Absolutely not.

“Did you just ask me if I was jealous?”

You nodded.

“Really?”

Another nod.

He couldn’t believe it, “Where in the world did you get that idea? Me? Jealous? When have you ever seen me jealous-- better yet, when have I ever gotten jealous over someone so… so…”

“So?”

“So insignificant.”

You gasped, “Victor! That’s the CEO of Waterworks Inc. you’re talking about!”

“Doesn’t matter,” He glared at you as he reached back for his drink, needing it more then than ever, “I just don’t understand how you even got that idea. Honestly… me… jealous. What a joke. Probably a bigger joke than he is.”

“I don’t know… that’s definitely sounding like jealousy to me.”

Mouth agape, Victor stared at you in disbelief. Were you really that convinced of the possibility that he was envious of a man whom you had given a majority of your attention to since the start of the night? Who had made you chortle with jokes that a five-year-old could have delivered better? Who was on the receiving end of your dimples and modest reactions? Who openly looked at you with an attraction with every passing second, having Victor feel the need to step in front of you just to shield you from his view, because who was he to do so? It didn’t matter whether he was the CEO of a known company, or whether he was just another simple-minded man, that dimwit was an idiot through and through and you certainly deserved better than him.

But really, jealous?

“I don’t get jealous.” He said once he got his mind back on track, “Besides, there’s no reason to be jealous.”

Victor was most definitely not jealous.

“Exactly, there’s no reason to be jealous.” You said.

“Glad we’re on the same page, then.”

“Maybe I’ll actually take him up on his offer.”

And there it was, a twitch of his finger, “Really now? Did he offer to take you home?”

It was your turn to get flustered, “No! His offer to dance.”

The man released a simple ‘oh’, hollow in its sound. Why he had thought of anything else was unknown to him. Though to see you so affected by a suggestion, it certainly had Victor wonder as to why that was. Did you like the idea; better yet, were you remotely interested in the concept? Victor drank from his glass, hiding his wandering and pondering musings, as bothered as they made him be.

He cleared his throat, setting the glass back down onto the bar, “Do you want to dance with him?”

“It certainly wouldn’t hurt if I did.”

“It might hurt him if you do.” As sharp as always his tongue had been, the cold demeanor enveloping his figure as he straightened his posture, “He ought to be careful if you were to dance with him. Worse, you might embarrass him.”

“I don’t remember hurting you when we danced together.” You retorted.

So you did remember it, “You stepped on me multiple times when I was teaching you.”

“That was practice…! There’s a difference!”

Gradually turning to face you, Victor towered over you in the entirety of his 6’ height.

“Dance with me.”

That got you speechless, if your expression was anything to go by; mouth agape, brows knitted together in confusion. “What?”

“If you want to dance that badly, then dance with me.” He found himself starting to sound exasperated, even had to fight the urge to run his fingers through his own styled hair, which had been slicked back for the event. When no answer was heard, however, he released a sigh and waved his hand before you dismissively, “Never mind. Forget I said anything. This is stupid.”

“No, stop,” Your own frustrations were starting to make themselves known, “You’re the one who told me to come here tonight with you, and now you’re getting mad at me for what? Wanting to dance?”

“No, you idiot,” Having his voice dangerously low in irritation, he could feel the heat spreading throughout his being. He stared down at you, failing to hide the fact that he was, indeed, troubled. As expected, you never failed to rile him up for whatever reason, and it was a skill that he had solely associated with you; he didn’t even understand how it came to be. “I’m getting mad at you for being so oblivious to that man’s intentions. Did you not see the way he was looking at you? Or even how he was talking to you? I knew you were dense, but I didn’t think that you’d be this dense.

He was practically brimming with pleasure at having all of your attention to him. And you were entertaining the possibility!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Victor, I didn’t know that there was anything wrong with that.” Pure sarcasm, that was a first.

“Are you being sarcastic with me right now?”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you weren’t being so unfair.” That was your final remark, glaring at him indignantly. He understood then that you were tired of the argument, all in the midst of taking note of just how tempting your lips had looked.You were so close yet so far, though he could have leaned in right there and then, an act so selfish that would have rewarded him with a taste.

“Unfair?” He questioned after a long while of silence; a mere husky whisper, “Is that what you really think of me?”

He caught you glancing down at his own mouth, saw the way you attempted to stifle a shiver. He really could have just stolen a kiss, feed his own curiosity and answer the one thing he had always wanted to know.

But you averted your gaze, turning your head away from his. There you were, his timid flower that grasped at his heart unknowingly so. You stepped back away from his space, your fingers fiddling with the pendant of your necklace, blushing through and through. He saw it, the thought that crossed your mind.

Did you finally realise or had your innocence cracked?

Taking your hand into his, Victor slowly brought it to his lips, only to drop a kiss on your inner wrist. He lingered there as time around you came to a halt, stillness falling upon those in the ballroom. Everyone and everything froze. He had stopped time again; had stopped it for you, or perhaps for him, he couldn’t say. Either way, you were there with him and that was all that mattered.

“Victor---” You whispered his name, wavering as he kept his eyes on you.

“I don’t understand how you want another man to look at you when I’m right here.” Breathing against your skin, he revelled in the warmth that he soon felt when your hand cupped his face, his palm covering the back of your hand as your thumb caressing the soft space just below his eyes.

“Do you really not see me?” There was an indescribable tone of hurt in those words, a pain spreading throughout the confines of his chest. It was a feeling that he had ignored many times before, deeming it as a distraction to his work, priorities, and everything that made him. But with each moment spent with you, he knew that it was inevitable. No matter how many women came his way, even with a couple undeniably throwing themselves at him in hopes to be The One, none of them could have had ever compared to the woman he saw you as. He may have called you dumb, stupid, or even idiotic when mistakes occurred, although there was always something so admirable about you that he simply…

Fell for.

Perhaps he was the stupid one, allowing for his feelings to grow into something so intangible that he, himself, could not even put words to, nor perceive its beginnings.

“Of course I see you,” He heard you say, nearly as soft as his own question had been, “I just… I just didn’t know whether you actually see me.”

And that had hit him.

You really were dense, weren’t you?

“How many times have I told you not to worry because I’m here? I even promised to be there with you if doomsday were to come, right? All those things that I’ve told you, the times you came to me, did you really believe that I would have gone out of my way for others, as well?” A sigh, “Do you not understand how… significant you are to me?”

Again, you were silent and he just knew. He watched you think, only to lose himself in the hues of your eyes; so bright and so deep, as open as a book. He read you in the ways he knew how, took note of your slow breaths, how you continued to return his stare even though you were wracking that beautiful head of yours for all that he had referred to. They were bits and pieces, things that he had only done to you, revealed to you, and you alone. And through everything, you had managed to engrain yourself in the depths of his heart, right until it began to call for you at its own will. You became an unneeded addiction, and although he hated to admit it, he had found himself yearning for you more often than he really should have.

You had bewitched him in more ways than one, yet you were so unaware of your own doing that it was torturous. But unexpectedly, you pulled him down and met him halfway, closing the gap.

You tasted as exquisite as he imagined, and perhaps even more, for everything that you were-- your scent, your warmth, your being-- it engulfed him.

Victor had caught your lips between his teeth, tugged on them kiss after kiss, until they parted, giving him the opportunity to explore you as much as he could. He had pulled you flush against him, his hand spanning the nape of your neck, while the other rested at the small of your back. He was on the verge of breaking, of losing himself in you as he had in his dreams. He wanted to.

However, you pulled back sooner than he would have liked, heaving and red, left him to needing more. Sudden abandonment was what he felt between shared breaths, his forehead resting on yours as he gathered his thoughts. What had you done to him?

#MLQC #mr love queen's choice #mr love victor #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #Chie writes.#it's been so long that I'm honestly disappointed at the quality of my writing.#I really do wish that I never stopped writing...#ah well.#Look I said I was gonna write a fic with THAT tension but idek what happened #n e ways #I promise more quality fics!!!!!!!!#AFTER MY EXAMS!!!!!!!!!!#send in requests/prompts too!!!!!!#ok thank u #i love u all

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

@caughtaghostsomehow reblogged your post ‘A lot like Us (Part-19)’ and added:

Oh man… Okay before I say anything else, I have to tell you that this Sunday thing is really worrisome. And don’t get me wrong, if my predictions are right and there’s a kid somewhere out there, obviously I’d be happy for Sam, he deserves all the happiness in the world. But an awful, selfish part of me dreads that this might be the case. Because if he has a kid with someone else… I don’t know how to put what I’m feeling into words, I’ll give it my best try. I know that she left on her own, she made that decision and has no right to Sam’s life now, not anymore than he has to hers. But after what happened… I just can’t help but feel like this would kind of break her heart, because she wanted this so much and she wanted it with Sam and she knows she can’t have it but if she ever learned that Sam has a kid with someone else I think it would open up a whole can of worms that she has refused to deal with for years and all the emotions would just spill out.

Okay.. Now that I got that off my chest I can gush.

There were a few moments there when I was worried he was going to tell her they’re still married but I know you were just trying to raise our blood pressure with those little hints 😂

I think I audibly said aww when he started backtracking on that coffee. Poor Sam, he’s still confused with how she feels. I can’t blame him though, she did leave without a word and then avoided him for the first week of college, I’d definitely be just as confused, if not more. But I’m glad they went. Sam is definitely gonna get drilled about his date later, poor lad 😂

I love how they can still see through one another so easily. You’ve done such a wonderful job showing just how strong that bond between them is even after all this time. It’s basically muscle memory for them, knowing how the other drinks their coffee, how they look when they’re deep in thought or uncomfortable, they can still notice the miniscule changes in each others’ expressions. They still notice those little things about one another even after all these years and honestly it’s kind of made me emotional. Knowing that things between them didn’t work out, not because the timing was wrong or they stopped loving each other, but because life has dealt them a losing hand. I’m glad to see them reconnecting but I think Sam noticed what we already know, she hasn’t dealt with her trauma. She buried it and she hasn’t as much as touched it since she left. I do hope she gets to experience the catharsis of letting all that bottled up pain and suffering go but I’m also scared for her once it happens. It’s been so long, I’m not sure what’s gonna happen to her when she finally addresses it.

I sorta thought that it would end up being awkward if they went out together but they proved me wrong once again. It’s like she’s ever only completely herself with Sam. It’s like she said, she doesn’t interact this way with anyone else. Sam knows her better than anyone and I think even though she was worried about how angry or hurt he was, she still found solace and comfort in his company. I can’t deny that things are very much different but there’s a familiarity between them, a sense of home that is so apparent when they’re together.

I got emotional along with her when Sam told her about Dean and Jo. To think how much she’s missed… And then Sam telling her he’s proud of her, oh gods, that was a punch to the gut. The fact that she literally didn’t have anyone this close to her, no family whatsoever in these past years… I’d go crazy. Crazy or completely numb. Maybe that’s how she survived this, she was already numb to begin with after the accident.. I don’t blame her for breaking down. Having someone tell you they’re proud of you and mean it after years of not being able to share your failures and successes with anyone who actually cares… Damn. It must’ve felt so good to hear him say these words.

I hope they’ll be able to interact as friends but I’m worried about the mean girls squad finding out about any of this cause they could get both of them kicked out if anyone saw them that fateful night.

I’m just gonna say, Jess and Sam’s wife?? That’s gonna be awkward as hell. And mostly for him.

(I’m not even gonna talk about that last little moment when he wanted to touch her face and probably kiss her goodbye cause my heart ain’t equipped to deal with that) I will say though, the fact that he can still make her laugh while she’s crying her eyes our? Top tier 👌❤

I loved the last little tidbit with Cas implying he saw everything that happened but he’s so lovely, he would never push her to talk about it.. Aaaand then pushing her into lava 😂. All of them playing together? Perfection. I want tha- no, I need that in my life 😂

And she’s happy… I think this is the first time in a long time when she actually means it.

Also, yes, me, I’m happy we’re finally getting some happy stuff!!!! 🖐🖐🖐

I loved this chapter, Ana, like I told you I would 😁 I’m also really loving that they’re getting longer, I’m always happy to see that I still have half the page left when I’m scrolling down, I can just sit back, relax and immerse myself in the story.

I’m already excited for the next chapters, it’s gonna be a blast. Love u ❤💜💙

Oh my goodness, Ria, you’re just the most wonderful person on the planet. You know that, right? Okay, since we’ve established that, we can move forward. About the Sunday thing, well, I can’t say much without spoiling stuff, but there are plenty clues in the past chapters that’ll make a lot more sense after the next chapter. I can tell you that the worst angst this series sees is in the past for us. You make pretty great estimates though ;)

Haha the thing about knowing you’re married is that you just don’t question it. I mean Sam had an out- the option of annulment- which he never took because he didn’t want to be free of the relationship. And there was no way the reader could have divorced or got an annulment without meeting Sam. So he knows they’re married and believes with absolute certainty that the reader knows it, too. Why bring it up if she’s in denial?

It’s sweet in a very painful way, right? That they’re so familiar with each other, still? You are so good at predicting emotions, though! Like perfectly on point about how the reader would react to certain situations, so much that I feel you’re in my head ;)

I mean you’re right on the ‘Sam knows her best’ part. She basically put herself in a bubble right? So most of her personality before that is still intact. Suppressed, but she is slowly finding herself. It’s Sam who’s been up and down a lot, who had to struggle to keep himself in tact. Besides, knowing somebody entails knowing their past as well, right? So who better than Sam? And that numbing probably did protect her mind from a lot of trauma.

The girl gang is not the best, yeah! In their own way, I feel like those three are either selfish or self-centred or both. And as far as Jess is concerned, I had a lot of fun writing her. She brings with her one essential jigsaw piece of Sam’s life. It’s actually something you’ve addressed :)

Thank you thank you for all of this. I just... I’ve said this before, but writers do be selling their souls out there for reblogs like this one. You are the BEST! I love you so much!

#Ana loves Ria #you are chrismas birthday and diwali all rolled in one i swear #I thought the best way to reply to this is make a whole new post #and I still feel like I am just being super duper vague cause I don't wanna spoil #but I love you bb #Ana replies #allu19 #<3

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the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Name Calling (The Final Chapter)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

PAIRING - BUCKY X READER (female reader, no physical descriptions)

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -

Vernichtung - Destruction, Annhialation.

It was what you were named and what you were supposed to be but the only thing you wanted to destroy was Bucky Barnes.

The ongoing and bloody war of words between you and Bucky turns in your favor when a disgruntled one night stand of his lets slip a secret when you run into her in the elevator… Now you have all the ammunition you need to destroy your enemy but you don’t plan on killing him quickly. Oh no, Bucky Barnes was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy every second. You just didn’t count on enjoying it quite so much.

But when your past catches up to you in the form of the mad scientist who made you, Bucky might be one of the only things that can save you from yourself. You can’t run from what you are but with his help, you can fight back.

Current Word Count - 130,853

MASTERLIST or Read on Ao3

Moodboard by @talesofakindredspirit

Chapter Forty-Eight - The Final Chapter

Bucky stood under the blistering hot water and didn’t feel it. The water swirling down the drain was tinged pink. Blood and dirt had soaked through his clothes, there was so much of it.

He had failed, he hadn’t been able to protect you from Docherty. Your final words played over and over again in his mind.

His metal hand clenched and he slammed it into the shower wall, tile cracking under his fist.

He remembered to absolute devastation and terror on Starks face when he landed and saw him kneeling on the ground, your locket clutched in his fist.

He drew his fist back and slammed it into the wall again.

He remembered Sam blinking back tears and storming away.

He sunk to his knees as the water beat down on him, cleansing your dirt from his skin. It wasn’t enough to cleanse his sins. He had failed you.

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Tony held your locket in his hand, flipped open to reveal the photo of you, him and Pepper. Your cracked phone lying on the table beside him lit up with Pepper’s photo and when he saw the contact she was listed under his resolve cracked and he screamed.

The table crashed against the wall as he flipped it, his tears finally breaking free.

He had sworn to protect you and he had failed. Docherty had waltzed right up to you and taken you away.

His little girl was in the hands of a monster and he didn’t have the strength to tell Pepper, the woman you had come to love as a mother.

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Steve Rogers with the master of having a plan, or at least pretending that he had one.

This was the one time he needed one the most, everyone else was falling apart and so the burden fell on his shoulders. His best friend was utterly destroyed and it had taken all of Steve's strength to convince Bucky to at least go and have a shower.

Tony was currently destroying furniture and even if Steve could find the words to stop him he wasn't sure he had the heart.

Sam was just destroying a punching bag and asking Friday every ten minutes for an update on whether Natasha had found anything.

Steve stocked in the empty corridor and leaned against the wall letting his back slide down it until he was sat on the floor. He needed a minute. Just a minute and then he would go back to being the captain and leading the search for you. But just for a minute he needed to be Steve Rogers, your friend.

And as your friend he was scared for you. Scared didn't feel like strong enough word more like terrified. But more than that he was angry. You had been through enough in your life, you didn't deserve this. Bucky had already suffered far more than enough. And at the end of all of your suffering the two of you had found one another only to be ripped apart and it wasn't fair.

He didn't need a minute, he didn't deserve a minute, he had to get up and find you now. No matter what it took.

You were coming home.

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Natasha knew that Steve was going to try and bear the burden of this, but she would be damned if she would let him bear it alone.

Tony was falling apart and she didn't blame him. Barnes was broken and she didn't blame him either. If life hadn't made her so ruthless then she might have been falling apart as well. She wanted too, of course she did. Despite what people thought the black widow did indeed have a heart and it was bigger and fuller than anyone could have guessed. There was a large space in that heart reserved for her Kotoynok.

But allowing herself to feel the pain of your loss would not save you. Calling every contact and connection she had, calling in every favour she was owed and offering every favour she could... That might find you.

Steve and Bucky joined her and the rest of the team in the room. Only Sam and Tony were missing and they came in shortly after. She watched Steve put on the Captains mask before he addressed her.

“Romanov?”

“Sorry Cap, I have nothing.” She said and to anyone who didn’t know it her it would have sounded cold and uncaring, bored even. To those who did know her though, it was clear she was frustrated and in pain.

Steve sighed in response.

“Stark?”

“We’ve hacked every satellite. We lost the copter over New York, they probably landed and switched crafts. I don’t know.” Tony sounded drained, there wasn't a hint of snark on his tone and it was almost painful to hear.

“Pretty big risk, stopping in New York. Why here?” Natasha mused.

“What if it wasn't a risk? What if it was calculated? Think about it, he kills the mother she didn’t know she had in the place where he took hope from her once already. He leaves a book about a monster she can identify with in her home on her birthday.” Sam said, sitting up straight as he worked through the clues.

“Wilson’s right. We’re too close to this, all we are seeing how everything he’s doing is affecting her. We aren’t asking what effect he’s aiming for. So what does he want? What’s his goal?”Natasha continued.

“The apocalypse.” Steve said.

“And if we wanted her to start an apocalypse, how would we do it?” Sam asked them.

“We wouldn’t, even if we did we couldn’t. She’s too good a person.” Tony snapped.

“No. She isn’t. She’s somebody who chose hope, time and time again and he could never break her of that habit.” Clint pointed out.

“Uh guys?” Bruce said.

“You want to break somebody’s spirit, take away what they’re fighting for.” Bucky spoke up.

“He’s still in New York. He can’t get what he wants from her so long as we are still alive.” Natasha concluded.

“Guys!”

They all turned and looked round at Bruce, finally seeing what he had been trying to show them.

Outside the window, behind Bruce.... Black lightning rising from the ground a few blocks away.

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The phone screen cracked under his grip as he hung up.

He had kept you at arms length, telling himself it was for your own good, that you would be happier and safer.

What if he had just told you truth? Would you have accepted him? Would he have been able to be a father?

Was it too late?

He walked into the Professor’s office.

“Charles?”

“She is a mutant no matter what else she is Logan, Cerebro can find her.”

“Do it. Find my daughter.”

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“I can’t get near her. Too many agents between us.” Natasha huffed as she fought her way through a flock of agents.

At this point it was impossible to tell who was Project Vernichtung and who was Hydra.

“I’m having the same problem.” Steve huffed.

“Eyes in the sky?”

“Nothing, too much chaos.” Clint informed them.

“I can’t get anywhere near her without being ripped apart.” Tony admitted.

“I never thought I’d say this but I really wish Deadpool was here.” Steve admitted.

“Deadpool is two blocks East, evacuating a pet store.” Sam supplied.

It was a familiar scene, the streets of New York turned into a Battleground and more than one avenger on the scene was having trouble with it. Only this time instead of the Chitauri, it was Hydra and project Vernichtung they were battling and instead of Loki being the villain, he was diligently fighting beside them.

Chaos reigned everywhere they looked and every time they made any headway with the enemy the screams of the innocent pulled them aside. Dozens upon dozens of scared people were pulled off the streets and directed to safety while enemy agents fell under the might of the two Asgardians, The Captain's shield or the widow's well-aimed bullets.

No matter how hard they fought, how many they killed or how many they saved, none of them could get close to the source of the true chaos.

The earth beneath their feet was shaking, buildings are starting to crumble and they knew they were running out of time. Still... None of them could bring themselves to ask the important question of how exactly they were going to stop you.

"Guys, we have a problem. A really really really big problem." Clint told them over the comms.

“Is it bigger than the two evil organisations that have teamed up to kidnap and use one of our own team members against us?" Natasha asked.

"It's not her, it's Docherty. Docherty is Vernichtung."

"Then where is she? What did he do to her?"Tony asked worriedly.

Throughout the fight Bucky had remained silent, slashing stabbing shooting kicking punching tackling his way towards the woman he loved. But it wasn't her at the eye of the storm.

He was torn between intense relief that you were not responsible for this and soul crashing terror about where you might actually be. About what your grandfather had done to you if he was the one who now held the power of Vernichtung.

It should have been impossible, but it was happening. Docherty had done something and all Bucky cared about was finding out what it was, finding out where you were. Finding you.

If you were hurt, if you were... No. No you were ok, you had to be. His last memory of you would not be of failing you. He would find you and together you would all save the city. He was going to rebuild the cabin, wherever you wanted it. He was going to spend the rest of his life making sure that he never failed you again, he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you.

"Clint, find me a clear path to him. Loki, create a diversion. Stark, I’ll draw his fire. The second you have a shot you take it. Steve?"

"I've got your back. Till the end of the line."Steve said, clasping his shoulder.

“Alright Barnes, take point. Let’s get m... our girl.” Tony said.

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“Are you really willing to do this?”It sneered.

“It’s the only way to save the people I love.”

“But you will die. This version of you will die.”Vernichtung pointed out.

“So be it.” You told her.

“Come on Princess. Wake up.” Logan’s gruff voice told you as his arms slid under you and raised you from the ground.

As he carried you out of the building your wounds sealed closed and he breathed a sigh of relief.

You opened your pitch black eyes.

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

“Come now Mister Barnes, no need to be so shy.”Docherty called out loudly.

Bucky internally swore and stepped out from behind the car as Loki dropped the illusions he was creating.

“That’s Sargent Barnes to you Dr Frankenstein.” Tony said, landing next to Bucky on the ground.

“What are you doing Stark?” He hissed.

“I’m not letting you walk into the lions den alone. When we find my daughter I’m not telling her that her evil grandpa turned you into Soldier Soup.” Tony hissed back.

Docherty smirked and lowered his hands, the deathwave receding.

“Is it just me or does he not look so healthy?” Clint asked through the comms.

Clint was right, Docherty’s skin was almost grey and black goo was dripping from his ears.

“I do not think he is strong enough to contain Vernichtungs power.” Loki informed them as he shrewdly gazed at the Doctor.

“Very well, Sargent Barnes. What exactly are your intentions with my granddaughter?” Docherty asked.

“That’s between me, her and her family.” Bucky growled.

“Speaking of my sweet child, where is she? She missed her curfew.” Tony added.

“Come now Mr Stark, you’re a man of science. You must know that if I am here with this power then she is dead.” Docherty mocked.

Tony and Bucky stopped walking, twin looks of fear on their faces.

“He’s lying! Do not fall for his tricks.” Loki hissed.

Tony raised his gauntlet.

“I’m going to ask one last time before he does.” Tony said, motioning to Bucky.

“Where is my daughter?”

“If you want to see her again, then stand down. All of you.” Docherty bartered.

“Stark, if he can’t contain the power it’s probably killing him. I doubt he has much fight left in him.” Steve said.

“He can’t take us all out seperatley.” Natasha deduced.

“Stark, Bucky, split up!” Steve yelled.

Tony and Bucky looked at one another for a split second before they did what The Captain suggested.

Bucky threw himself to the left and Tony shot skyward. Docherty screamed in frustration and raised his hands. He made a split second decision to blast the deathwave at Tony.

“NO!” Bucky roared, watching helplessly as the black lightning shot towards Iron Man.

Seconds before it hit it was pushed back by a red mist and Wanda stepped into view, an intense look of concentration on her face.

“I can’t hold it for long. But I can hold it for longer than he can.” She declared.

“You can not contain Death, witch!” Docherty yelled.

It was an intense battle of wills, so much resting on the outcome. Sweat beaded along Wanda’s brow as she strained against Docherty.

“Everybody fall back. We’ll hit him from further back, expend his energy.” Steve commanded.

“Incoming.” Was all the warning they had from Clint.

Bucky looked up and his heart seized in his chest. It was you. Or was Vernichtung, in the end it didn't matter to him. It was you. Good or bad, clear-eyed or black-eyed it was you.

“You have something that belongs to me” You snarled at Docherty.

“And you can have it back when they are dead.” He gasped.

“Give it to me!”You screamed.

You stepped across the ground towards him, a power and confidence bursting from within you, your shoulders thrown back and your head held high.

“Their deaths are your Legacy, my gift to you!” Docherty yelled, pushing back against Wanda’s power.

An inhuman scream of rage erupted from your throat and it made the hairs on Bucky's arm stand up. There was no humanity in that sound.

“I'm starting to worry she might not actually be on our side.” Clint said.

“Loki the lie detector, any input?” Tony asked desperately, his eyes glued to you.

Loki was deep in concentration as he gazed at you

“Whatever that is it is not mortal.” He concluded.

“Sam no! Fall back!” Steve shouted through the comms but it was too late.

Sam landed on the ground in front of you, his hands held out placatingly.

“Baby girl, it’s me. He’s dying, let him die.” Sam implored you.

You looked straight through him.

“Give me my power.” You snarled again.

“If you want it, Kill him.” Docherty demanded.

You didn't hesitate, you didn't think about it at all. Your hand shot out and closed around Sam’s neck and twisted.

He dropped to the ground, unimportant to you as you continued walking forwards like you hadn’t just killed your best friend.

The Avengers were frozen in shock. Their minds couldn’t catch up to what happened as you stalked towards Docherty, growling.

The Doctor looked up at you reverently and sunk to his knees.

“Take it. Take it and cleanse the world, finally.” He gasped out emotionally, holding his hands out to you.

You grabbed his hands and threw your head back as the black poison moved from his veins to yours, rippling across your flesh.

“At last.” You hissed.

“You are free Vernichtung, free to be what you were born to be.” Docherty said.

Sam stood up behind you and cricked his neck before nodding at Loki. The illusion rippled and Logan came to stand behind you.

“No.” Docherty whispered.

“You made me what I am. Allow me to return the favour. Allow me to make you into what you truly are.” You snarled viciously.

“Heartless.”

You plunged your hand into the doctors chest, ripping his heart out and crushing it in your grasp.

“When you see the devil, ask him ask him why you would do this to me and not expect my revenge.” You whispered as his body crumpled to the ground.

You dropped his heart onto the ground at your feet and turned your back on the corpse.

“What the hell just happened?” Clint wondered out loud.

“Kit Kat?” Tony whispered, landing in front of you.

You looked like you, the black veins receding. But your eyes, they were dark. Not fully black but dark.

“Is it you or is it Vernichtung?” Tony asked.

“Well we aren’t dead and Docherty is, does it matter?” Logan growled.

“I wasn’t asking you.” Tony snapped.

You ignored them both, walking away from the argument.

“Hey, hey where are you going?” Tony snapped, running after you but Logan grabbed him.

“Let her go.”

“Like hell I’m going to let her go, get off me.”

Bucky met you in the middle of the road.

“Doll...” He whispered.

You cocked your head but didn't answer him.

“I love you. Whatever version of you this is, how ever many there are. I love you.” He told you.

“Are you really willing to do this?”It sneered.

“It’s the only way to save the people I love.”

“But you will die. This version of you will die.”Vernichtung pointed out.

“So be it.” You told her.

“You cut me off, now you want me back?”

“It’s the only way. There will be no more me, no more you. Just us, as one. Something new.”

You were something else. Bucky had seen it in your eyes, what Tony hadn’t, what Logan had struggled to grasp when you explained.

Bucky saw it and he didn't care.

“James... I don’t know what, who I am.” You whispered.

“You’re you.” he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. And to him, it was.

“Whoever that is, whoever I am... I love you.” You told him earnestly.

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you.

James Buchanan Barnes, Sargent Barnes, The Winter Soldier, Bucky… Whatever name he was going by didn’t matter, he was the love of your life. You absolutely adored him. It wasn’t a fleeting sort of love, it was more than a mere crush. It was pure, searing, unadulterated, irrevocable love. He brought out the absolute best in you, if you ever became a hero again then he would be your redemption arc.

“Doll? Marry me.”

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

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

There will be a short epilogue where I will gush in the author's notes about how much I love you all and everything in this chapter that you might have questions about will be explained.

But

Thoughts????

@nerdandproud-86 @harrison-shot-first@thejourneyneverendsx @thelostallycat @inquisitor-selvala@the-corruptor @iovher @kendrawr-kitkat @phoenix-whiskey-tears @the–real-wombat @buckitybarnes@fairislesheets@angieptt @meganjonezzzz @dugan365@fluffeh-kitty@memanda17 @krystallynx @theonelittleone@piscesbarnes@free-as-fishes @tarastudiesalot@captainamericasbeard@dropthepizza346 @jaynnanadrews@likes-to-smell-books@drdorkus @life-wanderer@metalarmlover @animegirlgeeky@jsmith509

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

my baby’s a public menace {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Four Iconic Moments The Press Had A Fucking Field Day With

A/N: 2670 words. So this time we’ve got Modern Times with 70s!Roger pulled forwards in time. Don’t think too hard about how it works it just does.

1. It Becomes Official

The moment they call Ben’s name at the BAFTAs, to receive the award for Lead Actor in a Television Series, you feel like the whole world is coming to a stand still, and Ben’s rising, disbelief written all over his face.

“That’s me.” He says, quietly, as the applause has already begun, and then Roger’s on his feet, beaming, and he wraps his arms around Ben, pashing him directly in front of the camera that was catching every moment, and Ben kisses him back easily, before turning to you, eyes bright, and he pulls you to your feet, giving you a kiss as well.

“Congratulations, babe.” You murmur, and he’s so fucking ecstatic when he pulls back, and heads into the aisle, heading towards the stage. You slide into his seat with ease, lacing your fingers with Roger’s where he’s bouncing with energy and beaming with pride.

“He fuckin’ won.” Roger laughs with a little disbelief, and you turn to each other, both absolutely radiating with pride and adoration.

“Our boy did it.” You giggle, and Roger’s gaze dips to your lips for a moment before he looks back up, a new spark in his eyes that you knew all too well.

“I can’t wait ‘til we all get home.” He dropped his voice low, and you could feel yourself growing a little flustered at the suggestion.

“Keep it in your pants, dear,” you nudged him, and he barked out a laugh, giving you a wink before he turned to where Ben was finally walking across the stage. You, however, felt your heart stop in your chest, “he kissed us on camera.”

“Well, I kissed him,” Roger mused, his thumb rubbing against the side of your hand, “couldn’t help myself.” He admitted, still beaming as Ben was handed his award, expression bright and a little disbelieving as he leaned into the microphone.

“I think I just won a BAFTA and outed myself in the same minute, so that’s going to be hard to beat next year.” Is the opening line of his speech, and the audience titters with polite laughter, while you and Roger are hiding your snorts. “I actually had to email the organisational committee to ask them to let me bring more than one plus one, I’m glad to see that it wasn’t in vain.” He laughs; he goes on to thank the crew of the show he worked on, the other cast members, his family, and he looks for you and Roger in the audience, pointing the award at you. “And for Rog and Y/N, of course; the weirdest and best thing to happen to me in a long time.”

“Do you think he knows how much we wanna suck his dick?” You lean over to Roger, whispering under your breath, amused smile on your lips at you look up at your boyfriend grinning on stage.

“Of course he does, look at that smile.” Roger responds with a low chuckle as Ben leaves stage, heading back towards you. When he gets back to his seat, you move back to your own seat, resting your head on his shoulder when he sits down.

“We’re so proud of you, baby.” You tell him softly as they’re beginning the next segment on stage, and Ben reaches out with his free hand to rest it on your thigh, giving you a squeeze.

“I know, love.”

2. Roger Throws Half A Chicken At A Paparazzi

“Do you think we should go inside?” You ask, voice low as you catch sight of a man in a baseball cap and dark glasses covertly trying to take photos of you three. It was a nice evening, you, Roger, and Ben had been enjoying a meal outside at an upscale restaurant, the three of you draped on a two person outdoor lounge, your entrees having just been cleared up. Both you and Ben are on your phones, and Roger’s between the two of you, nose buried in the paper.

“Why?” Ben asks, not looking up from his phone, and you shift a little uncomfortably, giving the man trying to look like he’s not taking photos.

“Hey, dude, can you just leave us alone? We just wanna get dinner.” You call to the man, and he stands, a little flustered.

“So it’s true, you’re really dating both of them?” He calls back, stashing his phone in his pocket, pulling out a little recording device; the asshole came prepared.

“No, we’re just really good friends who make out at the BAFTAs.” Roger rolls his eyes, folding up the paper, and throwing the paper onto the table in front of him.

“No need to get snarky, mate, I just think it’s weird that somebody like her would get on so well with-” He’s cut off just as a kind and beleagured waitress puts down what looks like half a roast chicken surrounded by salad onto the table.

“Fuck off, alright?” Ben snaps at the man, clearly irritated, sitting up straighter, giving the waitress an apologetic smile as she leaves in a hurry.

“The hell do you mean ‘someone like her’?!” Roger growls, and you actually have to put a hand on his chest where he’s leaning forward, as if getting ready to throw himself at the reporter.

“I- do you wanna address the rumours then, Y/N about-” The man starts, but Roger cuts him off with a snarl.

“If this bastard brings up those fuckin’ gold digger accusations, I’m gonna start throwing things.” He warns, and not a moment later, the man brings up the very words Roger had told him not to. You’re just heaving a heavy sigh, used to being hounded by the gossip magazines, though you try not to pay them any mind.

“I could shout how much I love you from the rooftops and these assholes would still think this is some sort of weird, sugar daddy situation.” Ben turns to you, his voice low as he gives you a long suffering smile. You lean in across the empty space that Roger had just vacated to give him a kiss, before turning to where Roger was wielding his roast chicken like a grenade, lobbing it at the reporter, yelling about how he’s ‘sick and tired of hearing people talk shit about his girlfriend; she’s got more kindness and talent in one tit than the paparazzi has in his whole body’.

“We should probably get him before he does any real damage.” Ben muses, to which you agree. The two of you move to collect your rogue boyfriend as he continues to yell and squirm.

“Baby, baby please calm down; you’ve made a scene, you’ve thrown a chicken, you’ve mentioned my tits, we can have dinner at home.” You try to placate him, your arm tucked in his as Ben’s got an arm around his shoulders, the two of you guiding him from the restaurant.

“Just makes me so bloody mad.” Roger growls his hands on your hips where you’ve got your arms around his waist as Ben pays for your half finished meals. “It’s twenty eighteen, you’d think dickheads would learn to grow up.” He huffed.

“I know, baby.” You muse, bringing him in for a kiss to distract him, hoping to let his anger simmer down a little as you two stand in the parking lot.

“I just love you is all, people like that make me so pissed-” He whispers, more to himself than anything, but then you’re kissing him again, humming affirmations, your hands in his hair.

“I love you too, I love you too.” You murmur against his lips.

Later that night you’ll see Ben’s instagram story from just before he joins the two of you again. You and Roger, arms around each other, lit by a single streetlight, you’re leaning in to him, lips inches from his, and he’s smiling gently back at you; the whole image is surprisingly intimate, especially for Roger. It’s captioned ‘I’m allowed to take candids ‘cos they love me’.

3. Someone Gives Ben Tequila

Ben’s not usually the type to get drunk and reckless. Or well, he’s the type to get drunk on occasion, but not reckless, not like Roger, who can be incredibly reckless even while sober, nor like you, since you could go either way. Ben was meant to be the grounded one. Except sometimes he has tequila. It’s an afterparty for a movie he’d gotten a supporting role in, it’d been fun, but he was looking forward to being able to spend time with you and Roger again. Speaking of the two of you, you’d disappeared almost half an hour ago, Roger had gone to the bathroom and you’d gone to get more drinks.

When he finds you, you’re trapped in an uncomfortable conversation with one of the editors assistants’, a weedy kid who couldn’t seem to figure out that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Hi, baby!” You call out to Ben the moment you think he’ll be able to hear you over the music, and he makes a beeline for you, his heart singing when he sees your face light up.

“Hello, love, I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” He says, barely acknowledging the guy you’d been talking to, who’s own expression fell as Ben pressed a kiss to your lips. The two of you head off in search of Roger, who you find by the bathroom, talking with someone who’s clearly quite enamoured with him. From his easy stance and casual smile, you could tell he was at least enjoying the woman’s company. Neither you nor Ben were usually the jealous type, but after a few drinks, you couldn’t be blamed for just wanting to stake your claim.

“Hey, babe, who’s this?” Ben asks, slipping an arm around Roger’s shoulders as you stepped around to loop your arm through his on his other side. Roger, with a sly, knowing smile, looks between the two of you, before smiling brightly at the woman who’d been talking to him.

“Like I was saying, this is my boyfriend and girlfriend; you’ll have to excuse them, they get jealous easily.” He smirked, and the woman looked a little shocked, a little flustered, as she stuttered her way through an apology. “It’s no worry, I’m sure they can entertain themselves for a while,” and with that, he winked at you. Taking the hint, you moved, taking Ben’s hand and leading him away.

“He’s just being a social butterfly, you know how he is.” You mused gently, the two of you flopping onto a sofa. Ben hums thoughtfully, sitting beside you, your hand in his. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, trailing kisses up your neck to your jaw.

“‘m not jealous.” He said, lips at the corner of yours, pressing another kiss there before he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, moving so you’re smiling over your shoulder at him, “it’s just nice to say you guys are mine.” And his voice is low, almost a growl, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell him, kissing him hard, letting his hands wander and pull you close to him.

“Mine?” He asks, and his hand is on your thigh, moving your legs so you’re sitting over him rather than next to him.

“Yours.” You agree, kissing him again, messy and passionate, you can taste the alcohol on his lips and his tongue but you don’t care when he’s leaning you back to lie on the sofa. “And Roger’s.” You add quietly, and there’s a gleam in Ben’s eyes where he’s looking down at you, his arm around you, one hand on your waist.

“You’re ours, love, there’s no doubt about it.” He assures, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“I can’t take you two anywhere!” Roger’s grinning when he finds the two of you, and Ben presses his laughter into your collar as you look up at Roger and make an insistent, grabby hand for him. “If you insist.” He chuckles, sinking to his knees to join you at your level, kissing you where you’re splayed out on the sofa, with Ben all but on top of you. “You know there’s a perfectly good bathroom not too far from here.”

Not ten minutes later, one of the other cast members sends to the cast group chat, in all capitals ‘BEN’S BANGING IN THE BATHROOM’ which was met with either ‘at least they’ve freed up the sofa’ or ‘lmao called it’. You’re not surprised, nor are you ashamed, when some gossip rag has your face on it (or more accurately, Ben’s face) the next morning, and a riveting account of what happened with no actual details, and a photo someone took on their phone of you and Ben on the sofa. It wasn’t the first time, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

4. Roger Gets Instagram

Roger takes surprisingly well to instagram, which is both hilarious and terrifying. He posts a lot of selfies; he takes to being an instagram fuckboi like a duck takes to water. At first it’s mostly blurry shots, of sunlight, sometimes it’s you and Ben out of focus, laughing, or he gets one of you two to take a photo of him, shirtless.

When he gets a waterproof phone, the first thing he does is take a photo of you and he kissing underwater at the beach, and then three separate, all individually hilarious videos of Ben trying and failing to do a majestic hair flip coming out of the water; in the last one, both boys get hit by a huge wave, and the video ends with you laughing, fishing the phone out of the surf.

The three of you go on holidays to somewhere sunny, and at the end of the week, he posts the highlights; you lying on your stomach beneath a palm tree on the beach, topless; a selfie of the three of you smiling at the camera against a backdrop of a starlit sky, golden in the light of a bonfire; Ben in a coconut bra, a little blurry with the movement of laughter, grinning at you just out of shot; you, in bed, making a truly terrible face where he’s just woken you up and the sun’s in your eyes. His favourite, however, is the one from him at the end of the holiday, shirtless and tanned, shot from the waist up, biting his lip as he’s turned to look off to the left, showing off how he’s covered in hickies.

The shots that get the most media attention are his more risque ones, like the shot on his story that you’d taken where you could see the bottom half of his face all the way down to his hips, with a sheet covering his modesty, but a lipstick kiss mark along his V-line and his tongue out. (There’s a followup photo on your instagram story, of your lipstick smeared, grin wide, and your hair messy, with the caption, ‘sometimes you just gotta be a messy bitch’, and people put two and two together, and conservatives lost it.)

The most infamous actual post of his is the shot of you and Ben together in bed, he’s leaning against the headboard, still mostly laying down, and you’re draped over him, chin resting on his chest where the two of you are grinning about something. The sheet covers most of your ass, and comes up to Ben’s hips, and you’re giving the camera some pretty glorious side boob, and the photo’s framed to show room for one more person beside you in the bed, a sliver of sunlight shining through the curtains, across Ben’s chest and your back, and it’s just captioned ‘what a sight’. He’d asked you both before posting it, and you’d both agreed; it didn’t violate any guidelines, but social media still had a field day with the sweet, clearly post-coital photo.

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