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#sorry this took a hot minute i saved this to finish responding to later and then forgot about it
journey-to-the-attic · 8 months
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sdjbfkdshk i 4got that saying thot instead of thought isn't just an inside joke me n my friends have sorry 😭 ✋ i would never call you a thot (unless u wanted me too...)
that aside the angst is SOOOO good bro (gn). i was thinking actually that if ik is stained by the brothers' sins maybe she starts mirroring what they did when they had their sin stuff going on?? like bc levi went to hide in the lake maybe ik goes to there (and then levi has to fish her out before she drowns herself 😭)
i was acc thinking belphie would do the puttin to sleep part?? like he has special avatar of sloth magic. idk i was just imagining ik spiralling and he like hugs her and uses his magic to just sort of gently get her to rest...
can we get an amen for dadcifer though 🙏 he must be absolutely going thru it rn his poor daughter
no worries! i wouldn't really have minded either way, to be honest
that aside - these are really cute (and also really sad)!! i really like idea of belphie being the one to put her to sleep actually, he probably has some kind of special sloth magic that he'd use to watch over her dreams or something to keep her sleep peaceful :')
also yeah lucifer would be having such a bad time. he's been having a bad time since he first getting the whole pride flare-up thing, with only a brief period of relief between recovering and ik abruptly going off the deep end. he's probably blaming himself entirely for this happening (seeing the state ik was in before being put to sleep is probably one of the few things that could make him shed a tear)
i have been thinking on and off about how ik's whole situation would be resolved! and this is admittedly sorta similar to 'the long nightmare' in jtta, but the idea is that the brothers (+solomon bc i think his relationship with ik is especially important in this nightbringer situation) would enter her 'inner world' using some kind of ritual originating with sonno (ik's in deep sleep at this point, sonno's whole thing is dreams)
basically once in ik's own dreamscape (so to speak), she's been split into seven 'fragments', each holding and/or representing a piece of her soul - each brother encounters a fragment that's trapped in an empty memory of when she was trying to save each of them -asmo's is digging through the shattered remains of the glass coffin he was asleep in, satan's is wandering in the castle where he had his whole d&d showdown with his brothers, mammon's is hiding in the celestial realm's gardens
the idea is that the brothers have to do for the fragments as ik did for them at the time, thus removing the 'stain' of their sin. at that point the ik apparition disappears, and they're left with what i'm picturing as a sort of crystal piece? once each brother has recovered their fragment, solomon puts them back together - puts her 'soul' back together - which brings back their ik as they know her, without the sins affecting her, but still with her own personal anguish in tow
at that point i think solomon would reassure her (i can imagine ik would be afraid of waking up and facing everything again), lucifer in particular would probably have a moment to properly apologise. basically it's all very sappy and then the crystal pieces properly meld together - putting ik's 'heart' back together - at which point she wakes up
(i feel like there's a fnaf 'i will put you back together joke' to be made here)
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blank000cat · 2 years
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//sub male reader, praise kink, reader gets called bunny , reader is stupid , reader has an  embarrassment kink going on//
*Unedited*
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Reades pov:
Ugh!
my head is killing me,I think I need to take a break from work. Finally! I’ve been at it for hours, Work is sooo boring but Mikey would kill me if I didn’t do it. surely he will understand I’m practically on the verge of death,but seriously I think I am having a migraine or something.
I slowly get up from my chair feeling quite dizzy and walk out my office.
I walked down the hallway of bonten’s hideout the Organization I am apart of my best friend is also my boss which has some benefits:)
At the moment I was looking for some pills to help my headache in the  kitchen that the higher members of bonten share. I couldn’t find anything though ‘sanzu probably took them all’
Sanzu takes a lot of pills he says that pills make him feel good,he has lots of pills he has to have so painkillers right?
*
Knock! knock! knock!
The sound of my fist lightly hitting the door echoed through the empty hallway
Sanzu’s  your voice was faint buT I still heard it “come in”
I twist the  handle and slowly walk in. I see sanzu sitting at his desk staring at a piece of paper,with a very bored look.
When sanzu looked up his bored look was no longer, there instead he had a big smile. I walk in and Close the door behind.
“Oh y/n have you came here to save my from my demise of boredom?”
“Um no sorry…”
“Oh”
Sanzu had a very disappointed look, almost as if he is pouting like a child.he probably thinks I have a message to relay about work.
“I was wondering if you maybe have some aleve or something”
Sanzu scrunched up his nose with a very sour look
“Why would I have that,hey if your trying to get high I know some good one’s” sanzu said with a big smile
“Oh no I’m good…,I just have a headache. I was looking for some pills to help,but I can’t find any.”
“Oh how boring, and no I don’t have some”
Sanzu said with a up set look. He leaned back in his chair, looking up at his ceiling.
“Oh ok sorry for bothering you”
I turn and start walking to the door feeling disappointed. I was about to walk out of the door until.
“Hey wait one second, I think I might actually have something.”
Sanzu said with his iconic smile.
he really is the best!

“Oh really thanks so much sanzu!”
I close his door and,walk back to his desk with a smile.
*
//25 minutes later 12:25am//
I have been working on the last of my work and about to finish the packet I need to give Mikey tonight. But I was feeling very uncomfortable , Maybe I will ask Mikey to take me home?
I need to take this packet to his anyway.
//at Mikey’s door to his office//
I held the packet Close to my chest and knock on Mikey’s office, still feeling very dizzy hot. extremely hot.my tummy felt weird and I just wanted to go home.
“Come in y/n”
Mikey said with his usual bored  Voice. I open the door and I was welcomed with an emotionless face, of my best friend that I love so much!
“Mikey I finish the packet thy you told me to do!”
I was now In Front of my mikeys desk and I handed him the packet.he sat it on his desk before standing up,he slowly walk towards me. But stopped a few inches away from my face,he placed his palm on my forehead with his emotionless face.
“Are you ok?”
Mikey asked, his voice so smooth and  Cold at the same time.he looked so beautiful, so close to my face it made my tummy feel weird.
“Mm I don’t know but I want to ask if we can go home together? I just don’t feel good.”
“Sure but I still have things to do, so you will have to wait for me ok?”
“Ok!”
I give a big smile to Mikey happy that he agreed to taking me home
//5 minutes later 1:00am//
The feeling of being hot was just to much I wanted to go home but Mikey isn’t done yet!
“Mikey are yo- “
“No y/n now stop asking”
Mikey responded in an annoyed voice
‘So mean! I was just asking’
I thought not wanting Mikey to get more mad, although it’s fun to.
I was in front of Mikey’s opened  window siting on the edge,I look out to the night sky admiring the stars.
I felt something that I really didn’t want to felt at the moment,I started freaking out and Panic.
‘No no no no this CAN’T be happening’
I Cover my private places with my hands praying that Mikey doesn’t notice,I just have to wait it out like I always do.
I just don’t want Mikey to get mad at me!
//third person pov//
“Mikey I want to go NOW”
Y/n said in a very upset, with a pout that matched his voice, getting more uncomfortable by the second. Mikey gave a A glare to y/n, if y/n was not his first love he would have killed him already.
“I feel weird in my tummy… I want to go home”
Mikey is not stupid it was so  obvious to him, there is nothing y/n can hide from him. He notice the second you walked in his office.
“Come here.”
Mikey patted his thigh signaling to sit on top of him.

“Wha- I… umm ok?”
Y/n slipped done from the window and walked to Mikey then slowly sat down.
Mikey pulled y/n Close to his chest by waste.y/n felt how Mikey’s cold hands slighted up his stomach under his shirt. Mikey’s hand grazed against y/n’s nipple, Then down to his stomach again, Mikey rubbing his fingers against his stomach lightly.
The tingling sensation on y/n’s skin what so much he wanted to tear his skin off his body. The feeling in his stomach got worse.the feeling for him wanting something but not know what it is, was killing him. Mikey got close to y/n’s ear and whispered
“I can help you, you can trust me I’m your best friend..”
“N-no it’s ok I will go away soon I promise!”
“Why do that when I can fill you up with happiness hm?”
*
“Uhhg~ no Mikey is hurts!” Y/n cried out of discomfort and pleasure.
Y/n can feel Mikey‘s fingers rub  against his walls,
”it’s ok you can trust me”
Y/n  practically jumped out of his skin, when he felt Mikey’s hand wrap around his dick
“On my god no that’s so bad!”y/n  cried out, so many emotions going through him. y/n was told that it’s bad when people touch his dick.
“And Who told you that?You know it’s perfectly fine to do things like this, with people you feel comfortable with”
Mikey said while slowly stroking y/n’s dick, not enough to make the poor bunny cum yet
“Can you be the good boy I know you can be? Hey but if you really want to stop then I guess we can.”the way Mikey said it, was different then usual, He sounded very amused.
Y/n placed his head on the desk, not really knowing what to respond with. He just laid there letting out small moans and whines.y/n can feel something hard Press on his thigh, the feeling of Mikey  quicken and his paste of his fingers made his back arch. He reached his hand to where Mikey’s was at and grabbed his wrist. feeling so overwhelmed, but the fire in his stomach was getting more strong. He needed more!
He need to satisfy the fire in his stomach, it was as if he would do anything to get more to The edge. The feeling was almost addicting.Y/n practically screamed when Mikey curved his fingers and slowly  started pushing his fingers back in him, hitting that certain spot every single time.
Mikey Took out his three fingers, then pulled down his black pants. Y/n turned back and looked at Mikey’s boner, he watched as Mikey Took his dick out and slowly massage his dick.
“I’m going to put my dick in you now, so be a good bunny ok?”
“WHAT! Why?!”
“Because you want it” Mikey’s voice held such confidence that y/n just wanted to believe.
Mikey poured some lube on his dick, making sure to have it ready to take away y/n virginity.how they got in this situation is beyond both of them I guess Mikey will have to thank sanzu for this.
Mikey slowly pushed his dick in making y/n to let out a gasping sound. Y/n was clenching which was making it more painful, y/n was on the verge of tears one more blink, and tears would roll down his face.
“calm down y/n”
Mikey said trying to Control himself
“NO I can’t!,I hurts I can’t do it!”
Y/n cried out, he was a hole mess tears were everywhere.y/n was holding Mikey as if he was is Life support.
Mikey continued to push in, then he would pull out, then push back in. whisper sweet praises into y/n’s ear.
“You are the best boy”,”my precious little bunny, you are doing so good”, “be a good boy for daddy will you?”and more
The feeling of pain was fading away, it was still uncomfortable but Mikey was being very patient with him. But to tame his urges he started to quicken his paste.
“AHh Mikey~”
That the sounds of y/n’s small moans Mikey’s thrusts became more powerful, all of it was just to much for poor y/n it was so overwhelming. The pit in his stomach grow stronger
The hand that was holding his dick was making it just so much more  difficult.His body felt so hot, y/n absolutely adored the feeling that Mikey was giving him. Y/n wanted to hold on to him for the rest of his life, he wanted to finally feel the satisfaction of getting what he so dearly craved.
And Mikey wanted to fuck the living shit out of y/n. he wanted to fuck him in tell the sun came up and then some more. He didn’t think it would be this amusing, Mikey pulled y/n’s body Close to his own and softly hold him. Something he craved for years, Mikey can feel how y/n’s body Shaked in his arms. His an even breaths and the look on his face looked like a masterpiece. That is the only way that he can think of
“Oh Mikey please.. I want more”
Mikey fucked into y/n  harder then ever before, making y/n tense up. Y/n cried out loud holding Mikey’s desk as Mikey fucked him, y/n felt something in his stomach.He try to hold it back, he really was!
Mikey was hiding in y/n’s neck sucking and lightly biting on y/n’s neck leaving marks that bonten would definitely question later.
Mikey let go of y/n and pushed him down on the desk, grabbing onto his  hips. The sound of skin hitting against each other echoed through the room. Y/n can feel Mikey’s breath hit against his neck, “with No! Stop it’s to much!” Y/n yelled hopelessly trying to catch his breath.
Y/n attempted to pry the hands that are on his dick, but failed to do so. “What. What is it” Mikey asked unamused by y/n’s actions.
Your eyes rolled back with every push of Mikey’s cock, drool along with tears rolled down your face falling onto your bosses desk.y/n stoped fighting Mikey, to Lost in the  pleasure. Y/n’s whole body tensed up and, y/n let out noises that he never know he can make. Y/n hysterical feelings so good that no matter what was going on at that moment, it just wouldn’t matter.
Y/n clenched onto Mikey as if saying he never wanted him to go. He wanted to feel this way all of the time, he wanted Mikey to praise him and call him his hood boy.
Y/n’s mind was blank, he was just melting into the feeling. But unfortunately that moment couldn’t last forever,  y/n’s body fell to the desk like a corpse. Silence took overthe Office, the only thing to be heard was the two men’s heavy breathing. Y/n didn’t notice how exhausted he was until now. Mikey gave y/n kisses all over his back and neck and slowly pulled out his dick, which made y/n’s body twitch.
Y/n hasn’t really processed What just happened, but he slowly push himself up from the desk with the little strength he had left.
Only to see the mess he has made, which made him let out a gasp of embarrassment “oh my god I’m so sorry Mikey!” Y/n laid back down trying to hide the mess. He looked up at Mikey, which made his stomach tightin at the thought of getting in trouble by Mikey. and being yelled at for being disgusting, the embarrassment and thoughts of being degraded, made his soft dick hard once again.
Mikey stared down at y/n. As y/n refused to make eye contact with Mikey. Mikey grew a small smirk with him  growing an amusing look
“Good I’m happy that you are up for more because I was on making this Play out as long as possible, I’m  i’m glad that my little bunny is now my little whore. You will be my stupid slut for the rest of your life My personal fuck toy”


”… w-what?”

*
The door opened and, walked in one men, and he was staring down the person at the desk.he walked in as if he owned the building, “what the fuck do you want?”the man at the desk asked with an annoyed face.
“I have orders from the boss.”
The man with short black hair answered
“Like hell I’m helping you shit”the man said with anger in his voice. But the men kept walking towards him, “we’ll get out?!”
“When will I ever need help for you? You caused more trouble then you’re worth.”the man with a scar across his face snapped back to the bubblegum haired man
“See! God you are such a prick” the man’s face scrunched up with A disgusted look.
before he knew it, he was punched in the face making him fall out the chair he was in. But was Quick to get back on his feet
“WHAT THE FUCK MAN!”the immature man yelled, grabbing his bloody mouth and nose.
“YOU BITCH I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU” The threats that he made had no effect on the calm man
“Mikey is upset with you sanzu .”that was all he said. sanzu was making sure to make room between them, stepping back every time he stepped forward.
“he didn’t say how I could kill him.”
Sanzu spit out thinking of A different occasion then the one at hand
“You gave the poor innocent y/n  drugs“ kaku said in A calm tone, it was almost as if a tiger was in hunting mode and at any moment he would attack him.
It took a moment for sanzu, not really remembering of what he was talking about. but when he remembered he let out A large dramatic gasp and clenched his heart as if he was in pain.
“ME NEVER, could never would never he my baby you must have something mixed up…”
“So you are saying the he walked in your office and grabbed it on his own?” Kaku asked tilting his head to the right as if he’s mocking a dog.
“Hmmm no.., no I don’t recall him coming into my Office. But it’s A possibility maybe… with all the bitches I fuck it sometimes get worn out, you understand right? Oh hmm maybe you don’t.”sanzu gave A pitiful look to kaku, clearly trying to test his nerves.
“Sa-“
Before he could finish his word sanzu was out the front door, which only upset kaku even more, He pulled out his phone and made a call.
He made a call to his favorite siblings per, Who are annoyed by sanzu just as much as he does.
—————————————————————————————————————
Bro I kept on redoing this thing cuz I didn’t like how it was going🙄
 
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Surviving Sokovia - Chapter Seven
Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader
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Work Summary: 
You were a Sokovian orphan living on the streets of Novi Grad, until Strucker offered you a choice.
Now you are a part of his human experimentation programme, trying to survive an entirely different world of horrors. The kind boy with the beautiful eyes is the only thing that keeps you going.
This story contains dark themes. Please read the notes on chapter one for more details. Dialogue in {these brackets} is in Sokovian.
Chapter Summary: Strucker is not happy about your disobedience.
Series Masterlist
Word Count: 2489
Read on AO3.
Masterlists.
Taglist: @mcximffs @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @ifilwtmfc @officiallykuute @noz4a2
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Previous Chapter
Notes:
Warnings for many mentions of forced breeding, smut, implied sex pollen, dubious consent (because of the potential sex pollen and also the external pressure to have sex), threats of rape, violence against the reader, misogyny, dehumanisation, injury, broken bones
---
When you and Pietro finally got out of bed, you found the hatch they used to deliver your food empty. Your blood ran cold.
Pietro took one look on the expression on your face and immediately went over to the intercom.
“Where is our food?” he asked gruffly. You leant against the wall, trying not to show how close you were to a panic attack. Food had been so plentiful and so good for so long, but you hadn’t forgotten the emptiness in your stomach that came with living on the street.
Already, you were thinking about your fruit trees, and how much sustenance they could provide before you were putting more energy into them than you were getting out.
There was no response from the intercom. Pietro pressed the button again, jabbing at it, but still, nothing.
“You know we can’t breed if we starve to death!” he yelled into the little speaker. After a moment, the hatch clanged open. There were two small bread rolls in it. Your heart was hammering in your ears as Pietro retrieved one and handed you the other.
“{Wait!}” you cried out, but he had already finished his. “{We should… ration them… We don’t know when they will next bring us food}.”
Pietro looked at you guiltily. “{I’m sorry. I didn’t think}.”
You didn’t respond as you tore off a piece of bread and bit into it slowly. You could feel his eyes on you, but you said nothing. It was gone far too soon. You wrapped up the rest of the bread in a napkin and slipped it into your pocket.
When you finally looked back at Pietro, you saw a pained expression on his face. “{What’s wrong}?” you asked him.
“{I feel a little weird. It’s fine. I will be fine}.”
Anxiously, you felt the bread in your pocket. Could they have done something to it? Poisoned it?
“{What kind of weird?}”
“{It’s fine, please don’t worry about it. I need a shower}.”
Unbidden, your eyes flickered down to his crotch, and you saw that he was hard. Your cheeks flushed. Your entire body felt hot. You didn’t stop him as he disappeared into the bathroom.
When he returned twenty minutes later, he seemed far more relaxed. You slipped past him to have your own shower, trying not to stare at the way his hair stuck to the sides of his face. He was so cute.
Mercifully, a couple of Hydra agents came to pick you up for training after you’d both showered. You’d been worried that they would leave you there, hungry and a little turned on, until you’d ‘bred’.
You spent the morning cultivating plants. They had built a greenhouse specifically for that purpose. You loved and hated it. It was always so hot. Snow piled up outside, but you were sweating.
There was a strange freedom to it, though. These were your plants. You chose what to grow, and where.
By lunchtime, you were feeling weak. They brought you another piece of bread. You finished off the first piece and saved the second.
When no one was looking, you grew an apple off one of the trees in the corner and ate it in under thirty seconds. You considered growing another one for Pietro, but you didn’t want them to catch you with it. In any case, you could use one of the plants in your room.
In the early afternoon, you were tending to an oleander bush when your head was suddenly yanked back. Someone was holding you by the hair, almost pulling it out at the roots. You struggled, but strong hands were pulling your arms behind your back and cuffing your wrists.
It was as if the world around was muffled. Sometimes you forgot what the world was like before your powers. Your plants were like an extension of your body, feeling and listening out for you. With the cuffs on, you were just a girl again.
“Strucker wants to see you,” said the soldier that was holding onto your hair. You stopped fighting.
Two soldiers dragged you out into the corridor. You struggled to keep up. They were walking so fast, and your shoulders ached from the grip they had on you.
As you approached one of the cardio training rooms, your heart was racing. This couldn’t be good.
Strucker was waiting for you inside. At first, you thought Pietro was leaning against the opposite wall, but when you met his eyes, you realised that he was shackled to it. Your stomach did a nervous flip.
“Ah, just who I was looking for,” said Strucker, as if he hadn’t sent his goons to bring you here.
“What do you want?”
“I understand that the two of you have been reticent to breed.”
You cringed at the word, feeling dizzy. “We are not farm animals,” you said.
“Of course not.” Strucker’s smile made your stomach turn. “If you were farm animals, we would harvest his seed and implant it into you, and then wait for results. I thought I would be kind though. I was giving you two the opportunity to enjoy yourselves. You clearly want to, if your performance this morning was any indication.”
You thought about Strucker watching you and Pietro on a security feed, and felt sick. “Maybe we’d be more cooperative if you stopped watching us all the time.”
Strucker let out a laugh. It made you jump. “You tickle me, little girl. This isn’t about whether or not you breed. This is about disobeying orders.” He nodded to one of the soldiers holding you. He kicked you in the back of the leg, forcing you down onto your knees. “Why don’t you gentlemen show our dear little lab experiments what happens when you don’t obey orders?”
“No!” Pietro’s voice rang out, but it was too late. One of the soldiers kicked you in the stomach, and as you fell forward, the other grabbed your hair to hold you up.
It hurt. A lot. “You’re going to be a lot less pretty by the time we’re done with you,” said the soldier in a gruff voice. “Loverboy isn’t going to want to breed with you anymore. Maybe then Strucker will let the rest of us take a turn.” You shrank back, trying to get away from him, but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look over at Pietro.
Pietro’s whole body was shaking with the effort of trying to free himself from his shackles, but it was no good. The soldiers hit you. Again, and again, and again.
*
The first thing you became aware of was a stinging pain in your hand. The second was that the lights were too bright. You let out a quiet moan.
“{My love?}” Pietro’s voice was close. “{Are you awake?}”
“{Lights… hurt…}”
You felt a slight breeze, and then the lights dimmed. “{Better?}” he whispered.
“{Better}.”
With the lights turned down, you could see that you were in your bed. Pietro was propped up on one elbow, watching you. You cringed, certain that you looked a mess.
“{They knocked you out},” he murmured. “{The medic said you’re probably not concussed, but I should keep an eye on you anyway}.”
“{My hand hurts}.”
Pietro grimaced. “{They broke two of your fingers}.”
You stared down at your hand. Sure enough, it was wrapped in bandages. “{It hurts},” you said, feeling stupid.
“{I will ask for more pain medication}.”
Before you could say anything, he was gone. You lay there, listening to him argue with the person through the intercom. After a minute or so, he returned to you with some painkillers and a tray of food.
“{Are you hungry?}” he asked.
“{Ravenous}.”
“{Here, let me}.” His arm wrapped around your waist and tentatively helped you sit up.
It was just a plate of pasta, but it was more than you could eat, so you shared it with Pietro. You both ate gratefully and hungrily. When the food was done, Pietro returned the plate to the hatch and then brought you a glass of water to take the painkillers with.
“{You should try to sleep},” he murmured, stroking your hair.
“{Hold me?}”
“{Of course}.” You settled back into the bed, Pietro’s arms wrapped carefully around you.
You were on the edge of sleep when he said, “{You know, if we weren’t stuck in this place, I think I’d ask you to marry me}.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Pietro…” You weren’t sure what you were planning on saying to that. Maybe that you were too young. Or perhaps that it was ridiculous to propose marriage when you weren’t even really in a relationship. The words died in your throat. Because you knew that if he asked, you would absolutely say yes.
*
“{I think there’s something in the food},” you said. You’d been in bed for a day and a half, and apart from your broken fingers, you were doing a lot better.
Pietro was leaning back against the headboard, absent-mindedly shuffling a deck of cards, but he stopped at your words. “{What do you mean?}”
You felt your cheeks getting warm. “{You know…}”
“{I do not know, sweet girl}.”
“{After eating, I always feel…}” You shifted uncomfortably. “{More… ready… to breed}.” You cringed at your own word choice.
Pietro stared at you. “{Sweet girl, are you trying to tell me that you’re horny?}”
You flushed, shrinking away from him. “{I’m saying Hydra might be boosting our libidos. And our fertility, maybe}.”
“{I wouldn’t put it past them},” he said, shrugging. “{And now that you mention it, I have noticed… certain effects… after eating this food}.”
“{It’s really inconvenient}.” You wrinkled your nose.
He let out a light chuckle. “{That’s one way of putting it.}”
“{I mean, it’s not like I can do anything about it}.” You gestured to your injured hand.
Pietro cocked his head to one side, raising an eyebrow at you. “{‘Do anything’? Like what?}”
“{You know what I mean…}” you muttered, squirming in your seat.
He reached out and took your good hand between two of his. “{Is that something you do often? Taking care of yourself, I mean}.” he asked in a low voice.
“{I… Not often, no. But I feel the urge more and more}.”
He leant in so his lips were almost pressed against your ear. “{You know I could help with those urges. All you have to do is ask}.” You shivered.
The rational part of your brain was telling you that you should say no, but Pietro’s tongue was tracing the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t think straight.
“Pietro,” you whined, and he stilled.
“{What do you want from me, sweet girl?}”
“{I want…}” You let out a shuddery breath as he nipped your earlobe. “{I want you to touch me}.”
“{Can I go down on you?}” he whispered. “{I really want to eat your pussy}.”
You flushed, but nodded. “{Yes. Please}.” Your voice came out sounding desperate, but Pietro seemed to enjoy that.
He pressed a few sloppy kisses to your neck. “{Just lie back, sweet girl. I’m going to make you feel good}.”
He pushed your pyjama top up so that he could reach your breasts. There were some bruises around your ribcage, but he was careful to avoid them. He laid kisses along your collarbone, before dipping down and licking your nipple.
“Pietro,” you whimpered. Your good hand found its way into his hair. He licked and sucked at your nipple until you were trembling, and then he moved onto the other one.
Between your thighs, you ached. You pressed your legs together, trying to gain some semblance of friction.
Pietro noticed. “{I’m going to make you feel all better, sweet girl}.” He kissed his way down your body. His lips were soft and tender against your skin. If you had been less injured, you might’ve grabbed his hair and pushed his face between your legs. As it stood, he teased you, kissing along your waistband and untying the bow at the front of your pyjama trousers with his teeth.
When he hooked his hands into the waistband, you silently raised your hips so that he could pull your trousers and panties off. It hurt a little, but not enough to stop you.
“{There she is},” he murmured as he settled himself between your thighs, face to face with your pussy. His fingers spread you open, admiring the wetness that had gathered there. You whimpered, shifting your position slightly. “{Poor baby},” he cooed. “{You haven’t been getting the love you deserve, have you?}” You realised that he was speaking to your pussy.
At that, he leant in and slipped his tongue between your folds. The sensation of the hot, wet muscle prodding at your most sensitive place was strange and new, and almost overwhelming.
Carefully, he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. “{Does that hurt?}” he asked.
“{No}.”
“{Good}.” He dove back in with more fervour now, spreading your thighs wide and plunging his tongue into your virgin hole. His nose bumped against your clit, and you threw your head back in pleasure. It hurt, but it felt so, so good.
“Pietro,” you gasped, and he pulled back a little, pressing a finger into you.
“{Look at that},” he murmured. “{Taking me so well. Such a good girl}.” He wrapped his lips around your clit and began to suck. You were sure he must’ve been using his powers now. You felt as though your whole body was vibrating.
Heat arced through you, curling your toes against his back. Still, he didn’t let up. You squealed his name, clenching hard around his finger, but he kept sucking on your clit and thrusting against your g-spot until the sensation subsided.
As you slumped back against the mattress, he redoubled his efforts, pressing a second finger inside you.
“{Feels so good},” you whimpered, goosebumps springing up all down your arms and legs.
“{Come on baby, you can give me another one, right? You gonna cum for me again?}”
Helpless, you nodded as your body began to tremble again. He began to swirl his tongue impossibly fast over your clit, and that was enough to push you over again. You came again, moaning out his name.
This time, he let you go. “{Better?}”
“{So much better},” you breathed. “{Do you want me to return the favour?}”
“{Ah… That won’t be necessary}.” Pietro looked a little sheepish. As he got to his feet, you noticed the wet patch on the front of his pyjama trousers.
“Oh!” He had cum in his pants from eating you out. That was way hotter than it should’ve been. “{Did you… uh… enjoy yourself?}”
“{Your pussy is divine, sweet girl. I could stay down between your legs forever, watching those pretty faces you make when you cum}.” He flashed you a smile, and your heart did a somersault.
Next Chapter
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loverrrgirl · 2 years
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KISMET- Austin Butler x reader- PART 6
If you read the old part five you’re going to have deja vu. I skipped a part like a dumb dumb. But if you felt like there were plot holes, it’s because I slipped right over them. All fixed now!
Warnings: talk of car accident, hospital, etc. May eventually contain smut so minors back awayyyyy. I’ll warn you on the smutty chapters though. Promise.
Next chapters will have snippets of Austin’s point of view.
Here’s a masterlist
We pulled in to a parking lot with a colorful little building. There was beautiful art on the side walls of it. Someone definitely took their time to add all the details to the flowers. It was so cute on the outside.
Austin parked the car and got out. Before I even processed what he was doing, he was over on the passenger side opening the door for me. "You're gonna love this place. It's been family owned for 25 years." He said as he finished pulling my door open. He held his hand out so I could use it as leverage to pull myself out of my seat. Once I was out, he closed the door behind me and clicked the lock button.
"It's so cute out here. I wish it was warmer so we could sit outside." I said with a smile. He smiled back and opened the door for me to go in. It was a small, intimate building. The colors were bright and every table had fresh flowers and the smell of fresh food took over the room.
We ordered our food and sat down in a booth in the back corner. It wasn't super busy, maybe three or four other tables full.
"So how'd you find this place anyways?" I asked.
"A good friend of mine brought me here and I come back whenever I can now." He smiled. It seemed like a very fond memory he had.
Chatting with him was nice. It was effortless.
"So Stella, what do you do in your free time while you're here?" He asked.
"Well it's my first time back since I left actually. So I'm not sure what I'll do other than be at the hospital. But before I moved, I spent a lot of time at the beach reading, or walking, or sleeping. It's just a 15 minute bike ride from my house" I smiled thinking about all the times Jude and would go once he got in to high school. Most of the time he used me as an excuse to stay out late with his friends. But the rides to the beach were full of laughter and jokes and sarcastic comments.
Oh god. The hospital. How am I even finding myself enjoying this conversation when I should be rushing there?
I started to feel flush. I think Austin responded to me but I couldn't hear him. My heart was pounding and I was starting to feel like I couldn't breathe.
"Stella. Stella!" He said sharply, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you okay?"
"You know what, I actually think I need a minute. I don't think I can eat right now I'm so sorry. I'm going to go outside for some air." I replied, not sure if my sentences were making any sense.
"Okay. Yeah. Of course. Here, take my keys so you can at least get in the car. It's cold out there." He said to me as he put his car key in to my hand. And I'm not even sure I responded. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the passenger seat counting things I could see, things I could hear, things I could feel.
This is not the time for an anxiety attack Stella. We can do this later. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
My breaths were starting to slow. And although I wasn't feeling any better and my cheeks were tingling from starting to hyperventilate, I could tell I had saved myself from a full blown attack. For now. And I was feeling HOT. I was shaking, but I was warm. I took my cardigan off and let it fall behind my back against the seat. And I just laid my head against the headrest and closed my eyes so I could continue to breathe. I let a few tears fall, and quickly wiped them away. This was also not the time to be crying.
How fucking embarrassing. Oh well. I guess no one ever knows how to act in a situation they never thought they'd be in. Going to the car was better than having a panic attack in the middle of the cutest taco place I've ever seen. 30 more minutes and you can have a whole panic attack in a hospital bathroom if you want to Stella. The world is almost your oyster.
I was startled by a tap on the driver window. I forgot I was even in Austin's car. I unlocked the door to let him in. He was carrying 2 bags of food with him.
I know this man did not just miss out on eating his lunch fresh to bring me my box of food.
"Hey. Sorry it took so long. They brought our food and then I wrapped everything up and put it in a bag for you. You might feel hungry later." He said to me in a low voice. "How're you doing?"
I looked at him, wide eyed and mouth slightly parted. Although I had inconvenienced him multiple times today, he was still thoughtful enough to bring me my food. I realized I should probably stop staring and explain myself. "I just thought about the hospital and how I should be there and I got very overwhelmed. I'm sorry to have left suddenly like that but I didn't want to cause a bigger scene than I probably did."
I didn't want him to know I was also feeling guilty for enjoying his company and the time we had spent together. He was being so accommodating to a complete stranger who he met in an absolute crisis. I just needed him to drop me off so I could stop feeling this way and focus on my dad and my brother.
"You don't have to apologize. Today is a hard day and it makes sense to feel scared about it. Let's get you to your family." Austin said. He reached over and gave my forearm a gentle squeeze, reassuring me that everything would be okay. He started the car and drove out of the parking lot. And just like that, I was almost to the place I wanted to be but also dreaded to be.
"So you said your house is a 15 minute bike ride from the beach? Which beach?" He asked, breaking the silence.
"Laguna Beach! I grew up just down the street from it. Have you been?" I said, probably a little more excited than I should have. It was just my favorite beach.
"I've been there once or twice, yeah. It's a good one. I usually frequented Little Corona Del Mar Beach. Strictly because it's a little more secluded, but it's also beautiful." He smiled. I could tell he really liked the beach.
"Hmmmm. I haven't been to that one. I'll try to check it out while I'm here." I said, hoping I didn't forget the name of it by the time the car ride was over. Which happened to be in about 5 minutes.
As he made his last few turns, I could tell he deep in thought. He was doing that thing again. When he rubs his lip with his thumb. I could watch him get lost in thought all day if it was like this every time. As we pulled in to the hospital parking lot, he finally decided to let me in on what he was thinking. "I just wanted to tell you that you got this. And whatever happens, you're strong. And you'll get through it. I just know it" he said in a low voice. Like he wasn't sure he should be saying it to me but it seemed like he felt like he had to. And I didn't know it, but I needed him to.
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Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up
Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?
Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.
Word count: 4363
Can be found on AO3 here.
Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.
After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.
Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.
The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.
You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.
Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.
The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.
Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.
“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.
“Sorry I’m a little early—”
“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”
“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.
The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.
He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.
Holy shit.
She was hot.
Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.
“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.
You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.
She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”
“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.
“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”
“Mhm, yeah.”
She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.
Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.
“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.
Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.
While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”
You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.
“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.
Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”
You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.
Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”
“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.
She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”
“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.
Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.
Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.
When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.
“Yeah, no issues here.”
“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”
“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.
After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.
“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”
“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.
“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.
“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”
“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”
Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”
An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.
“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.
Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.
Good girl.
Oh fuck.
Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.
When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.
“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”
“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.
“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.
“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”
Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.
“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”
“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”
You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”
After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.
Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.
“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.
  The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.
You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.
“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.
“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.
Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.
As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.
When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.
“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.
“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”
And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.
As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.
Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.
“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”
“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”
“I’ll try.”
Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”
That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.
Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…
“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.
Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.
“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”
“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”
So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.
Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.
Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”
“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”
“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.
You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”
Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.
Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.
  “Hey, (Y/N)?”
A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.
“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?
“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.
“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.
“I do stab people for a living.”
Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.
Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.
It was beautiful.
Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.
You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.
“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”
She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”
Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.
“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.
“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.
“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”
The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.
“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.
“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”
Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”
“Go for it,” you shrugged.
“Are you certain?” You nodded.
“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.
“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”
She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.
“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”
“Honoured to be your…canvas?”
And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.
“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.
The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:
A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,
I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?
Yours, Eivor
377 notes · View notes
chuckbass-love · 3 years
Note
Johnny smut#4
Hello lovely anon. Thank you so much for this request, again, i’m sorry for the long wait but i didn’t want to write this when i didn’t have much motivation and then have it turn out any less than perfect. I hope it’s worth the wait for you and that you enjoy it.
Also a lil A/N for everyone: To everyone who has requested, i’m gonna get back on it and try and get at least 2 or 3 out per week if possible. I lost motivation for a hot minute but i’m back. I love you all so much. Also, part 7 to only love can hurt like this will be up sometime in the next week or so. I’m still working on it but i already can’t wait for you all to read.
Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.
Pairing: Johnny Storm x Fem!Reader
Prompt #4: “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught”
Warning: Smut, explicit content, sexual intercourse, hair pulling, choking, mouth covering and swearing. 18+
Word Count: 5,160
GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @mcustarks go check them out❤️
Best Friends Brother
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As your eyes glance around the beautiful garden filled with white chairs either side of the aisle with flower arrangements all the way to the alter. You can’t help but feel utterly enchanted by the scene, it’s stunning. However, you’re in the wrong place right now, Sue specifically asked you to meet her out back to help her get ready but as soon as you turnaround to head there, you bump into Johnny of all people.
To put it simply, Johnny isn’t exactly your favourite person and you’re not his either. Well, that’s a lie. When around others you don’t get along, you don’t hate each other you just don’t really have much to say since he’s always so cocky and you’re his older sisters best friend. But behind closed doors, the sexual chemistry is off the charts and you’ve spent too many nights tangled up in his sheets to count on two hands.
No one knows about your late night rendezvous though, especially Sue. And she can never find out. It would hurt her. You’re her best friend and Johnny is her little brother. So it’s a secret and it will always remain one.
“Wow” his lips curl up into a genuine smile as his eyes take in your figure in the floor length  dark purple bridesmaid dress you have on “you look, great” he says as he tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, clearly unable to stop those dirty thoughts running wild in his head.
“Just great?” you ask, brow raising slightly before you chuckle and move to walk past him but he grabs your arm just in time to stop you from going anywhere “not just great, but gorgeous. In fact if this wasn’t my sisters wedding then i’d say you were the best looking one here” he turns his head in your direction, his dreamy blue eyes meeting yours, both filled with lust and need. But you can’t do this here. Today is Sue and Reed’s day.
“Johnny” you whisper lazily, the feel of his skin on yours makes you shiver with desire for him to fill you up, kiss you and make you cum around his cock multiple times but that will have to wait. You really need to snap out of this. So you do, you blink and look back up at him before slowly pulling away from “Sue needs me now, i have to go” and just like that he’s behind you, watching as you walk away. Mostly just to watch the way your ass moves in that dress. You can’t say you blame him though, your ass does look good.
The second you step foot indoors you hear Sue moaning about anything and everything to who sounds like Alicia.
“Your saviour is here” you announce and Sue turns around, beaming at you and you can’t help but stare at her. She looks absolutely breathtaking and her dress is the most beautiful you’ve ever seen. She looks just like a princess.  Alicia then leaves to go and check on Ben, leaving you two to it.
“Sue, you look amazing” tears brim in your eyes, drowning out your vision, she spots it immediately, rushing to hand you a tissue “don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup”
You take it from her, dabbing underneath your eyes before taking the eyeliner from her to re do what couldn’t be saved in time “i can’t believe you’re finally getting your big day” you finish zipping up her dress before helping her out with her veil.
“Well i’ve waited long enough” she laughs as you finish up and you turn her round so she can look at herself in the mirror.
“Now, i just need to finish my make-up. Help a girl out?”
You don’t even bother to respond, instead you start helping, picking up her bag of products. Her foundation is done so it’s just her eye makeup and lipstick that’s left to do. You go with a nice subtle smokey eye with a little silver glitter on top. Then to finish it off you apply some nude lip gloss to her lips before leaving her to do her own mascara, you would hate to mess it up after all.
“Oh i forgot to check with you, is Johnny outside?”
Even the mention of his name has an obvious effect on your body and it’s something you’ve never been able to control but instead of letting it show, you put your poker face on, clearing your throat and mumbling a quick “yes” and thank god she doesn’t catch on or say anything. You must have hid it well.
“Right, ladies the guests are arriving now and Reed is helping them all to their seats so are you ready?” Johnny pokes his head into the room and Sue nods, letting out a deep breath.
He glances at you before Sue walks over to him to make their way to the other room in which she’s going to be leaving out of to walk down the aisle, leaving you standing there sighing.
Guess it’s time for you to take your own place too. You follow closely behind them and then you and Alicia wait for your queue to go, she goes first, then you. Flowers in hand, smiling around at all of the guests, every one of them dressed up in bright colours, wedding hats galore. And as you take your place next to Alicia at the side of the alter, you watch your best friend walk down the aisle with pride. She means the world to you and if there’s one person who’s the most deserving of happiness, it’s her.
Reed wipes away tears as she stands next to him and you feel your heart melting, more tears forming. Johnny watches you from across the way, wiping your own tears of joy before his focus shifts to the vows.
Sometimes he gets urges to ask you out on a date but as quickly as those urges form, they fade. There’s not a chance in hell of you saying yes to him and he knows it. He’s just a hookup and he’s no stranger to half platonic relationships. He’s never particularly been one for commitment anyway but something about you changes his mind. Since you’ve been Sue’s best friend for god knows how long now, he’s watched many guys come and go in and out of your life. He’s watched and even listened to the many times Sue has held you whilst you cried and to tell the truth, he’s never been able to fathom why anyone would ever want to hurt you. Why anyone would ever cheat or leave you. He always had the biggest crush on you and it’s never left. 
Hence why one day he made a move, giving you his best cheesy pick up line at a party Sue threw one weekend. But you ignored him, it was only 2 hours into the party and you weren’t drunk enough to be taking him seriously. However, multiple drinks and shots later, he tried his luck again, and he hit the jackpot. You took him up on his offer. Whilst Sue was in the other room trying to clean up after her guests, you were in Johnny’s room, stripping off in-between heated open mouthed kisses.
It’s pretty obvious where that lead and the next day, you were so mad at yourself for letting it get that far. You cursed alcohol and your stupid brain as you quickly re dressed, repulsed at yourself and your actions. That’s when Johnny shot up, trying his best to make you stay, shutting the door as you tried to open it and standing in the way. You made eye contact with the player and he kissed you. You can’t recall anything else other than feeling captivated by him. His lips moved in sync with yours like they were always made to touch and you couldn’t control the way your body yearned for more.
And the rest is history. Since then you’ve been late night texting and meeting up whenever you could to hook up. Johnny eventually got his own apartment too which only lead to more often than not, the pair of you fucking like rabbits.
It hasn’t just been hookups though, as much as you’d love to lie and pretend that it doesn’t mean a thing, it does. You like Johnny, of course you do. He’s actually the only guy that’s ever been able to make you cum. The only guy who isn’t completely selfish in bed. He makes it all about you, every dam time and you feel torn when it comes to him. A huge part of you knows the two of you feel something deeper and more than just sex. You feel something more intimate. It’s definitely not love but it could be, one day.
Before you know it, you’re ripped from your Johnny themed thoughts as everyone starts cheering and clapping. You join in, watching Reed kiss Sue passionately before the two of them walk back up the aisle. You, Alicia, Johnny and Ben all follow behind with the guests joining in.
The reception is just inside and as soon as you all enter, the music begins. The real old school music. You’re The One That I Want from Grease. The DJ really has a way of luring everyone onto the dance floor right away. Usually at weddings, everyone sits down drinking and chilling before the buffet food comes out but not this wedding.
Sue grabs your hand and the two of you re enact the classic Sandy and Danny scene, overly dramatic though of course and unbeknownst to you, Johnny is watching your every move, unable to stop himself grinning like a cheshire cat. It’s very clear you’re having the time of your life and all he wants is to be able to dance with you.
Once the song is over, you walk around the room to look for the table that you’re going to be sitting at until you hear “over here” and you know that voice anywhere. You turn around to find Johnny sat down, a large glass of wine next to his beer. He ordered for you? Why?
“You’re next to me, hope that’s okay” he stands up, helping you into your chair and tucking it in for you before taking his seat again and sliding the glass of wine to you.
“White wine is still your favourite, right?” nerves fill his voice as he keeps his eyes locked on you “yes, it is. You remembered. Thank you” you waste no time in taking a big gulp of it, you can practically feel yourself getting aroused just by sitting next to the man and to think you’re going to have to deal with it the whole day is torture.
You press your thighs together, trying your hardest to stop whatever is happening in its tracks.
“You not going to dance some more?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, one arm draped round the back of yours “maybe in a minute, i’m still recovering from the first one” you giggle nervously, scared of being seen with him. Sure, you were put with him by Sue herself but what if your farce comes apart now, after all, he is being nice to you and the resting bitch face is missing instead a happy expression has taken its place.
Maybe no one will notice since it’s Sue’s big day, that could be the excuse you use if anyone says anything but then again, why should you care to make excuses? If you enjoy his company that shouldn’t be an issue. Maybe Sue won’t care. She’s always wanted Johnny to settle down with someone nice and you’re nice, right? She’s also wanted you to find someone too. But her best friend and brother getting together probably isn’t what she had in mind.
The song Crazy In Love by Beyonce comes on and Sue practically summons you to the dance floor, so you down the rest of your wine before you rush over to join her. Skipping the regular moves, you and Sue both start dancing like it’s just the two of you. No move off limits as you both grind your hips in circles, shaking your asses and laughing your heads off. She is the only person in this world that can make you laugh like that and you feel incredibly lucky to have her and to be here for her big day.
As your moves get more risqué you catch Johnny adjusting his cock in his dress trousers before drinking more of his beer.
The tension is building within you and you’ve never had to fight temptation so much in the whole year that you two have been doing this. You’re usually very good at waiting and making him wait for it but right now, it’s too hard. The next song that comes on is Check On It by Beyonce, again.
The more of the song that you dance to, you notice the lyrics surprisingly match your situation and a wave of confidence drenches you like rain.
If you got it flaunt it, boy I know you want it While I turn around you watch me check up on it Oh you watchin me shake it, I see it in ya face Ya can't take it, it's blazin’, you watch me in amazement
You continue to show off your best assets, making sure you tease and wind him up more before you make any kind of move which is what you usually do. Any time the two of you fool around, you make him wait and earn it, but it’s one of many reasons why he loves hooking up with you, you’re not easy, you know your worth and you’re 100% worth the wait.
The song finishes leaving yourself and Sue breathless almost. Reed stalks closer, handing his bride a drink and you head over to the bar to get another for yourself before sitting back down again. The buffet will be available soon and you’re desperate for something to eat. Peckish isn’t the word.
“Hello again” Johnny beams and you sip some more wine, a rather big sip yet again before you respond “hello. Are you gonna sit here the whole night?” you question with genuine curiosity, he only really danced a little when the Grease song was on but that’s about it and you aren’t oblivious to the other women checking him out.
“No i intend to dance i just need to be drunk enough for it first”
“I see, maybe then one of those lovely ladies will get a chance to dance with you” you say, observing one in particular who has been staring non stop.
“Please, i’d rather dance with you”
Your heart skips a beat and dare you say it, your vagina develops one. He’s such a sweet talker.
“You looked good out there, y’know” he motions towards the dance floor as if you didn’t already clock on to what he meant and you can’t deny the way your cheeks start to heat up as you thank him shyly.
That’s when he leans closer to your ear, his arm round the back of your chair again as he rasps “and that ass of yours in this dress, baby you got me so hard” his breath fans your neck as he returns to his normal sitting position but he doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches at the dirty comment. He knows all too well the effect he has on you and you know the effect you have on him.
In the past all it’s taken for him is for you to bite your lip and stare him down for him to get hard before. You’re his weakness.
Before you can even go to respond to him though, he clears his throat, tapping away on his phone as he stands up “anyway, if you’ll excuse me, nature calls” he slips his phone back into his pocket, walking away towards the toilets which just so happens to be right behind the DJ.
Your phone buzzes and you check to see a message from him ‘You coming?’ the text reads.
And that alone is enough for you to choke on your own saliva. You quickly sip your drink before standing up yourself and making your way over to the mens toilets. Thank God no one saw you.
“Johnny” you whisper yell until one of the cubicle doors opens, the bigger one at the end. He winks at you as he appears in the doorway and you strut over to him, allowing him to pull you in and lock the door. Your body is flush against his as he starts to kiss your collarbone first. If Johnny is anything it’s a man who loves to savour the moment. He hates quickies and loves to take his time with you.
You’re obviously not the first woman to fall victim to his touch but you’re the only one right now and you’re glad that he’s had experience, it’s clearly made him all the more sensational  in the bedroom.
“Oh” you throw your head back on a quiet moan, hoping not to be too loud despite music blasting outside making it impossible for anyone to hear you.
“Every time you dance, you drive me crazy. Shaking that perfect ass of yours in this dress, making me want you so bad” his lips hover over your sweet spot, his breath fanning it just like it did before.
You wrap your arms loosely round his neck as your back arches and his lips attack your neck like a man possessed, everything about this moment should feel wrong and yet it feels so right. The thought crosses your mind that everyone is out there dancing and most likely eating now all while Johnny is playing with your dress, lifting it up to reveal the new panties that you brought for today. Purple lace to match your dress.
“Oh baby” he groans, tugging on his bottom lip at the sight as his fingers wonder down and slip inside. His cold palm cups your sex making you shiver in surprise before he makes you forget all about it by spinning you around so that you’re pressed against the wall. Caged in by his muscular body as he towers over you.
He presses a chaste kiss to the back of your neck and heat starts to rise to your cheeks, you can’t contain the flustered feeling that fills you. He’s always had a way of being so dominant and stealing all control from you in an instant, since you’re so used to the roles being reversed in your life, he was more than into changing that. And to tell the truth, it’s one of the many reasons that you keep coming back. He pushes you out of your comfort zone in more ways than one.
His fingers play with the flimsy material of your new panties, grazing over your clit multiple times until you’re poking your ass out into his hand. “Someones keen, huh?” his low, raspy and taunting chuckle fills your ear sending shivers up and down your spine and causing goosebumps to form all over your hungry body.
“Please, Johnny” you beg pathetically, once again pushing back against his hand in hopes that he’ll get a move on and touch your properly. Which of course he does. You know he can never resist your charm. All the more reason why he’s slipping your panties to the side now so that his fingers can circle your arousal covered hole, almost dipping into your honey pot but holding back.
“Beg for it” he growls, taking your right earlobe between his teeth and biting down lightly “beg like the good girl i know you are” he continues and you gasp before breathing out a quick plea “p-please touch me Johnny, i need it” as your hands find purchase on the wall.
The feel of his knee spreading your legs apart gets you all the more excited for what’s the come and that’s when he gives you all that you’ve been craving, slipping two thick digits inside of you, coating them in your juices as they hit that spongy spot. He’s never had much trouble when it comes to finding your weak spots, he knows your body inside and out at this point and there’s not a time where you don’t cum when you’re with him.
“That good baby? My fingers getting that little cunt ready for my cock”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head in reaction to the pure filth leaving his not so innocent mouth and just as you go to let out a near enough pornographic style moan, throwing your head back too, the restroom door opens making you stop yourself. Footsteps make their way to one of the cubicles that just so happens to be next to the one your in.
Johnny then takes it upon himself to pull his drenched fingers out of you, reaching his hand in front of your face and shoving them into your mouth for you to suck on, using his free hand to undo his belt and now you know that you’re done for. You know exactly what he’s about to do. His cock rests at your entrance, staying there for a second before he slides in. Your walls welcome him in the best way, wrapping around his cock as he splits you open, stretching you beautifully yet again just like he does every time. The all too familiar feeling consumes you.
“You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught” he mutters in hushed tones, switching it up so that his hand is fully covering your mouth, suffocating you as he drags his cock along your warm velvety walls deliciously. Obviously you don’t want to get caught but right now the anticipation of what could happen is enough to make you clamp down around him, earning a hiss.
A noise that obviously catches the attention of whomever is next door to your cubicle since the unsuspecting gentleman speaks up “are you okay in there, man?” shit. It’s Ben. You feel a wave of shame wash over you as Johnny picks his pace up slowly “yeah, everything's fine” he chirps, as if he has all the time in the world to converse when he’s buried balls deep inside of you.
“If you say so” Ben responds before flushing, washing his hands and then leaving the room. Now it’s just the two of you again. Johnny takes full advantage of the alone time by pushing you right up against the wall, your cheek squished against the tiles, his calloused hands splaying across your ass cheeks now and spreading them apart. Only so he can take a good look at the way he disappears into your tight chanel with ease.
“Doing so well baby, taking this cock like a fucking pro” he grunts, wrapping his hand around your neck and pulling your head back with the help of his other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair at the scalp but keeping your whole body pressed into the wall.
Sinful moans escape your mouth and at this point you’re way past the point of caring or trying to be quiet. Unless someone walks in then you’re going to let go and revel in the feel of him. The way his body traps you in makes your clit pulsate, you love being manhandled and you always have but only by him.
Anyone that takes even so much as a look at Johnny, they think ‘player’ and they’d be right but they’d also think he’d never be the type of man to be as filthy as he is in reality. Not only has he got a foul mouth on him but he’s kinky not to mention skilful in more areas than one. Dick and tongue game on point as well as those magical digits of his and the way they dance across your sex both delicately and brutally all at the same time.
You’re certainly not complaining though. 
“Fuck, Johnny” your back arches even more so than it was before as you shakily cry out his name with the kind of want that only he can spur on “what is it baby?”
“Don’t stop, i’m so close” you whimper desperately.
His pace is now rendering on animalistic as he fucks you into the wall with such vigor, wanting nothing more than to feel you come undone all over his cock, something he’ll never grow tired of.
“Come on then baby, give it to me” he eggs you on, keeping one hand wrapped around your neck still, tightening as the seconds tick by whilst his other hand smacks down on your exposed ass cheek, making it wobble a little which earns him a satisfied hum.
The two of you go crazy with you pushing back to meet his thrusts and him spanking your ass, both of you hungry for that release.
All of a sudden though the blaring music coming from outside stops. Making you panic. Johnny on the other hand is so close to reaching his peak and he knows you are too, so he doesn’t bother to stop.
But you hear the faint laughs of the wedding guests before what sounds like the DJ addressing everyone. Fuck. This better not be the speeches. You had one planned and so did Johnny.
He continues to fuck into you, grunting, growling and panting in your ear, driving you closer and closer to that edge. You can feel the coil twisting and turning in your stomach, on the verge of snapping at any second and you don’t think you’ll be able to hold back the noises when it happens.
“Gonna make you cream all over this cock baby and best believe i’ll be filling this sweet cunt up with my cum”
You rest your hand over his around your neck as your whole body starts to shake. You clench around his cock some more and just as you can taste the orgasm, the addition of his fingers pressing down on your clit push you off the edge and your head drops back onto his shoulder. The music starts up again, allowing you to really enjoy this. Your mouth hangs open whilst you scrunch your eyes closed, seeing stars as you fall into a pit of ecstasy. You can feel your legs shaking and threatening to give way but luckily for you Johnny moves his hands to your waist, wrapping around you so he can hold you up whilst he comes close to reaching his own end.
“Fuckkkkk, squeezing me so good baby”
You do it again for good measure and sure enough, he twitches inside of you, his hot cum painting your walls just like he said and a fucked out spent smile forms on your face making him laugh when he sees.
He rides the two of you through your highs before his thrusts come to a halt and he slowly pulls out. He then grabs some tissues, dropping to his knees and pressing yet another chaste kiss to your clit this time before cleaning you up. He can see that you’re struggling to stand so the second he’s done he rises to his feet, pulling you flush against him and then proceeding to push you up against the wall.
The two of you stare deep into each others eyes for a couple seconds, both of your chests rising and falling as you try to normalise your breathing. That was certainly an adventurous, dangerous and thrilling experience, one that you won’t be rushing to partake in again anytime soon. But it was amazing to say the least. The way he’s looking at you right now makes you want to throw caution to the wind and kiss him. So you do. You crash your lips to his, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck and as expected, he kisses back. His grip tightens on your hips, pulling you even closer if that’s even possible.
“What was that for?” he asks as you come up for air and you shrug, not even sure of what it was yourself. But all you know is you like him and this isn’t just some fling to you, some form of messing around until the two of you get bored. There is a genuine connection there, one that you can’t wait to explore some more.
“I don’t even know” you giggle, pecking his lips again.
Silence falls upon the two of you before he finally blurts out “go out with me” as if he’s telling you rather than asking.
“What?” you furrow your brows in confusion.
“Go out with me, on a date”
“I thought Johnny Storm didn’t do dates” you quip back, raising your brows with a smirk to match “i don’t but i’d like to try if it’s with you” and that alone warms your heart. The same heart that’s been crushed and broken so many times before and it’s almost like he’s mending it. Not that you’re complaining.
You take no longer than a second to think before you’re agreeing and kissing him some more. That’s when the music stops and you both look at each other.
He quickly zips up his pants, doing his belt up again and shrugging his jacket back on before turning back to you. With you both now looking decent again, you get him to check your makeup, he wipes the stray bits of mascara that smudged before kissing your forehead.
He lets you leave first whilst he waits an appropriate 2 minutes before he heads out too. No one suspected a thing and now it’s time for the speeches.
This is definitely going to be a wedding to remember...
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Me and all my hoe personalities after writing this one: 
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476 notes · View notes
smallrainclouds · 3 years
Text
Tangled starlights
(working title)
Also hc that Hypnos is also working when he sleeping, he does his job as God of sleep. He can also do a normal sleep so he can get rest. But he doesn't get nearly as much he needs.
Part four of marriage AU
No beta.
🌙💤💤🌙
You stood in the dusty room as Hypnos floated around, lighting the candles on the walls. 
You didn't think you would return to this room. Not after what happened a few days ago. Your stomach twisted in anxiety. You weren't upset exactly but you didn't expect such a strong response. 
"And no one has kept up with the library?" You asked. You didn't want to think about *it* right now.
You walked along the shelfs, the scrolls seemed to be calling for you. 
"Mother made this place before Hades took over the house for her and he didn't deem any of this stuff important." He replied, and pointed to a door at the far end of the room. 
Hypnos waved a hand around. "There are more in that room also. When she was younger, she used to collect as many stories and knowledge as she could. But she never took the time to actually organize it." 
Hypnos lit the last candle and floated down to stand. He kept some distance between You and him. Only his bright eyes followed you around the room as you wondered.
"If you don't want to, it's totally fine. This is a lot-" 
"N-no. I want to!" You shook your head. "I helped Athens with her library the few times she needed to update it." 
You stopped and turned with a smile. "Also I like a good story and I don't doubt that your mother has some great ones in here." 
Hypnos returned your smile and you tried not to think about how close he was last night.
"Great! I'll get Dusa to help you clean up the dust in here."  He glanced around the room, "And maybe some chairs and tables." 
"Yes. Might be helpful." You teased him. And felt a little warm at his laugh.
🌙💤💤🌙
Several hours in and you were bone tired and dusty.  
So.Very.Dusty.
"Hey Dusa! How is it looking up there?" You called out.  Dusa quickly floated to You. Her green, shiny skin was now dark gray with dust but that didn't stop the beaming smile. 
You smiled back, already so fond of Dusa. It felt like You had spent a day with one of your sisters. 
"I think we got all the dust! I'm just sorry we had to remove all the scrolls out of their place."  She glanced at the piles of scrolls in the corner, carefully stacked together.
You shook your head, "It's okay. I've been told it was already a bit of a mess so no harm done."
"O-oh good!" She bobbed in the air. " I think-"
"Oh wow, I didn't realize we had so many scrolls."  An male voice drifted through the door. 
You and Dusa both turned toward the door, surprised at the visitor. 
Zagreus stood, hands on hips as he looked at the pile that loomed over him. 
"O-oh Prince! Be careful!" Dusa rushed over to him. You followed, of course he will show up when you and Dusa were both a mess. 
"Don't worry, I won't touch it." Zagreus smiled at You. " Sorry for coming at a bad time. I heard from Mother Nyx that Hypnos' wife was taking over the library. And I realized I haven't induced myself yet. I'm Zagreus.
"My name is Y/N and I would shake your hand but…" You held up your hands, covered in dust and grime. 
"Of course. If you ever need anything, just let me know." Zagreus' mismatched eyes studied your face as he said it.
"Thank you, Prince Zagreus. Dusa has been an amazing help already."  You tilted your head to Dusa who blushed.
"O-oh it is not a problem! I'm happy to help!" Dusa murmured.
"Dusa is amazing isn't she? Our hardest worker for sure." Zagreus praised, he sounded so proud of her. 
"Oh oh my, excuse me! I- I need to get cleaned up." Dusa rushed out, her blush visible even with the dust
"Oh dear." Zagreus said. "We might have been a bit much. But it is good that she hears it. Goodness knows Father doesn't understand how hard she works for this house."
You weren't quite sure what to say. You didn't want to take sides yet or ever if it can be avoided. You have seen too many times what happens when two gods get into a fight with each other. 
"You'll have to forgive me but Dusa is right. A hot bath sounds like a dream right now." You smiled at him, glad for the excuse. 
"Of course! I will leave you to it, Y/N!" Zagreus nodded and waved goodbye as he left.
You sighed. Hopefully this room will be worth the trouble.
🌙💤💤🌙
You couldn't remember the last time you felt so relaxed. There was nothing like a hot bath, you mused.
You tore off a part of the warm bread and popped it into your mouth. You eyed the pomegranate but went for the olive. Save the best for last you thought.
You laid on top of the covers, feeling like the most spoiled being alive. You went for another olive.
 
What a day.  But at least you were moving forward and now there was a job for you to do. 
inevitably, you thought about Hypnos. He was still at work, you last heard. You knew he slept on the job but that wasn't a rest. Not really. 
You thought about what he said before. How being more powerful than your sisters. No one ever said that, why would they? It is clear what the gods liked. 
Hermes may have the only exception (at least until Hypnos) that enjoyed her powers but even then he never said what Hypnos did. 
Hermes had always pushed a little more, made her try harder to be a little more quick and clever. Your older brother in everything but blood. Hermes had been one of the few people You missed other than your sisters.
He did travel to the underworld sometimes. Maybe you could see him again. Give him letters for your sisters. 
Your eyes drifted closed, the dark red 
canopy were the last thing you saw before sleep overtook You. 
🌙💤💤🌙
There were sounds outside your door. You blinked at the candles by your bedside. They were much lower than before you went to sleep. The only sign that any time had passed at all.
You frowned at your door. It sounded like an argument. You stood and quietly walked to the door. You pressed your ear against it. 
But the bloody thing was so thick, you weren't sure what was being said. 
But you weren't going to just stand there especially after being woken up so rudely. You looked around your chambers for a weapon. Just in case.
You frowned when you realized there was nothing. You would just have to be ready to slam the doors.
With a deep breath, you pushed your bedchambers open. 
The two men outside went quiet. Hypnos and another man You didn't know stood before you.
"Great, just great. Now look at what you did." Hypnos snapped at the other man. 
"Me?" The man snapped back. He was about the same height as Hypnos but unlike Hypnos he wore only dark colors. His scythe loomed over all three as it gleamed even the candlelight. 
"Yes you!" Hypnos grumbled. He turned to You, his normal smile gone. And you couldn't help but notice how much deeper the black circles have gotten. 
"Y/N, I'm sorry. You will have to forgive us for our lack of manners. You can go back to sleep now." Hypnos turned back to the man. "Brother, I think our 'little talk' is done for now. You should be getting back to work right?" Hypnos' tone was sharp.
You didn't realize he could sound like that. Also brother? 
The man frowned, and looked at You then at Hypnos.
"Fine, but you have a duty to the house. You need to grow up at some point." 
Then he turned on his foot and walked away. 
Once he was out of sight, Hypnos sighed as he looked at you. He was floating, the candles highlighted his face.
"I didn't know you had a brother." You stepped out of your bedchambers. You were only in a draped linen gown, a little inappropriate but you were too curious not to know.
"Two brothers, Thanatos and Charon. You just 'met' my twin, Thanatos." Hypnos said.
You could hear the exhaustion in his voice and your heart twisted. You will ask more about his brothers later. 
"Have you gotten any sleep?" You felt silly asking the god of sleep if he got any rest.  But those dark circles were all the proof you needed.
"Sure, I fall asleep on all time especially on the job!" Hypnos' smiled meanly, his hands spread out in a mock shrug.
"I mean real sleep." You crossed your arms. "Surely, the naps you take aren't enough." 
Almost out of nowhere, a thought came. 
"Wait, what exactly are you doing when you napping?" You asked. 
Hypnos raised an eyebrow and silent took over.
"Does it matter?" He finally responded. 
"It matters. At least to me." You didn't know what to make of this whole argument. There was something you were missing but you don't know what.
Hypnos was silent as he stopped floating. He walked closer, his light golden eyes not leaving your own eyes. You resisted stepping back, staying in place with your arms crossed. You cursed how warm you felt when Hypnos stopped in front of you. 
"My brother is the God of Death. He gets those last few minutes of a human's life. Unbelievably terrifying for those poor humans I imagine." Hypnos leaned forward, his hand pressed against the wall, next to your waist. 
You could feel a blush crawl up your neck and cheeks. "And what do you get?" You asked, hating the small tremble in your voice. 
"One third. Sometimes more than that. Slowly over the years. When I sleep, I can go to humans and give them sleep or take away any sleep they want." 
 
Hypnos' eyes were beautiful and you felt so exposed.
"So you haven't been getting much real sleep at all." You said, tearing your eyes away. On impulse, you reached up to touch the obol. You heard his breath hitched. 
You had to put a stop to this. Or you would do something very foolish.
"Right then come along." You grabbed his wrist and pulled him into your bedchamber.
"Ah…" Hypnos sounded unsure. 
"You need some sleep. I can't trust that you will if I leave you alone in your bedroom." Your blush was getting worse.  "Also I doubt I will be able to get any more sleep. So I'm just going to keep an eye on you while I finish up some letters." 
You cleared off the bed and gestured towards your bed. 
Hypnos just stood there. "You don't-"
You waved his words away. "No one will bother you in here, so just try to get a nap in." 
You sat down at your desk, feeling very foolish. You grabbed a blank paper and started writing down tasks for the library.
You heard Hypnos moved around and settled in your bed. You thought you heard him murmured something but didn't turned around to look. 
 
Eventually you heard his soft breathing. This time you did look. He didn't get under the cover but did take one of the pillows and was on the opposite side you slept on. 
If anyone asked why you allowed this, you just say you were helping your husband as a wife should.
Nothing more, nothing less.
You nodded, and tried not to think how your heart fluttered earlier.
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Your eyes blinked open. Frowning in confusion, you looked down at your papers.  A blanket slipped off your shoulders and pooled around your feet. 
Last night ( or day) memories flooded back. You had fell asleep at your desk. 
You turned to look at your bed but Hypnos was gone. You didn't like how disappointed you felt. No need for that for that, you scolded yourself. You grapped the blanket to return it. 
 
Only when you got closer, did you see what Hypnos left behind. 
On the bed, a bottle of nectar and a note was tucked under the bottle.
'Thanks.' No name or anything, not that You needed one. 
 
There was however a picture of an smiling face next to it.
"Oh Hypnos." You laughed. 
Oh...
Oh dear what have You gotten yourself into to?
🌙💤💤🌙
146 notes · View notes
slipper007 · 3 years
Note
p ☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? 💕💕
☀️art museums: what’s your favourite museum, or type of museum? (doing this)
Word Count: 1,864
Also on AO3 [masterpost]
Two years after the world didn’t end, Team Free Will 3.0 started traveling.
They didn’t always stick together, or even stay in the United States (Sam and Eileen made the trip to Ireland), but they knew they all still had a home in the Bunker.
It was simultaneously freeing and terrifying to be in control of their own fates, something that Sam, Cas, and Jack had all taken in stride. While Eileen struggled at times, Dean was the only one held back by it, as much as he tried not to be. The moment he had first realized that his life was not his own, he’d fought against it out of instinct and righteousness, but now that he had it…
As much as Castiel and his brother both assured him that he was who he was on his own terms, rather than whatever Chuck’s machinations had wanted to him to be, he worried he didn’t know himself. He was just as adrift as he had been in his teens and twenties, desperately trying to emulate his father in order to find a sense of self; as he had been freshly back from hell, violent and afraid of everything he had done and become; as he had been standing in that graveyard with God telling him to kill when he knew revenge wasn’t what his mother would have wanted and wasn’t what he truly wanted.
Castiel had told him in his confession, his brother in several passing speeches over a lifetime, and Dean himself had said it straight to God’s face, but was it true? Who or what was he outside of saving people and hunting things, outside of the narrative Chuck had constructed his entire lifetime?
The vastness of the question was enough to make anyone spiral, so he tried to avoid it.
Charlie helped when she came over. With Sam and Eileen abroad, and Cas all too willing to have deep conversations Dean wasn’t ready for as much as he loved him, she and Dean became closer. She had been staying at the Bunker for a time, not long after Jack and Billie brought her back. She, too, was finding it difficult to adjust to the new world they found themselves in – she had tried for a full year and a half to get her legs under her on her own, but the world had changed in the six years before she had been brought back. Even though she had managed to reinvent herself numerous times before, it was difficult. The Winchesters were more than willing to offer her a place to stay in the meantime.
It worked well for everyone, though it was particularly chaotic now that Sam and Eileen were taking a brief vacation abroad. Dean was constantly with his two best friends (one of whom was his lover), as well as Jack. Charlie and Cas had become close, something that Charlie had deemed “WLW/MLM solidarity” (neither Dean nor Cas knew what that meant). To Jack, Charlie had taken the role of cool aunt, which was both wonderful and terrifying in equal regard, especially given that Jack was, at this point, back to being in a body his own age with his original powers rather than those of a god. The combination of a super-powered six-year-old and a nerdy LARP-enthusiast was certainly an interesting one, especially given how their energies fed and built on each other’s.
It was this merry band that found themselves inside an art museum one hot August afternoon.
Charlie and Dean wandered the lower gallery for a short while as Castiel took Jack through a more kid-focused section, and for a time they wandered in silence.
“So how are you today?”
“You live with me,” Dean responded, only to be faced with a shrug. “How are you?”
“Today’s been good,” Charlie said with transparency. “I woke up again. Started sewing more of my Triss costume – from The Witcher video games, not the show, you know? Now I get to hang out with friends and see some pretty cool art. Maybe I’ll apply for another job today, or bake some bread, or we can finish getting me all caught up on Game of Thrones.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Dude, spoilers!” She looked straight to him, and Dean shook his head. “Anyway, you’re dodging the question by asking about my awesome life. Not cool, so spill.”
Dean sighed as he walked by another painting of fruit. “I don’t know, Charlie. Could be better, could be worse.”
“Figured out who Dean Winchester is yet?”
“Do any of us truly know who we are?” Dean quipped back.
“Really?”
“Lil’ existentialism never killed anyone,” Dean said with a shrug. “But no, not yet. It’s all still just a big…mess…of what’s him and what’s me.”
“Well, here’s a start for you: Dean Winchester is my friend, and always will be, regardless of whatever some crack writer says.”
“Pretty sappy, but I’ll take it.”
“Shut up.”
Dean Winchester is a friend.
When Cas and Jack rejoined the pair a little later, they all wandered up to the 12th to 19th century European gallery. Jack and Charlie broke away when they came across the tapestries. Castiel, however, was drawn to a painting a little further in. The gallery was still and quiet as Dean joined him.
“St. Sebastian, huh?” Dean said, reading the label. “Know him?”
“My memory of 200 BCE is muddled at best,” Castiel said. “I don’t think so. The painting is beautiful, though, if tragic.”
Dean looked at it again, trying to see what Castiel saw. A beautiful mouth was twisted in pain as arrows lodged in the body, unstoppable. The arms were contorted and restrained, rendering punishment inescapable. The eyes were wide and dark, looking upwards as if begging for divine intervention that would never come.
In it, he saw himself. He saw his struggles with faith in a higher power, with the needless suffering he and his little family had been put through. He saw his loss, his fear, the control he lost when he realized he would never be free from Chuck. What he didn’t see was the anger.
Beyond that, however, he saw Castiel. He saw Cas’ expression when the Mark had worn Dean down, when he had thrown Cas to the floor along side the corpses of the Stynes. It was the same loss, the same fear. The expression was akin to brokenness yet not shattered. He was still faithful, still true. It was the same look on his face when he had confessed in the dungeon. Beautiful but tragic.
What had Dean ever done to deserve that resoluteness, that level of trust in spite of the fear.
“I’m sorry,” he started, words catching in his throat. How did he even begin to make up for all he had done? Yet, it was as if Cas had read his mind. Hell, he was an angel. Maybe he just knew.
Castiel turned to him, a familiar softness in eyes not tainted by pain or prayer for intervention. Dean could lose himself in the deep blue seas.
“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven.”
They stood side by side, listening to Jack’s squeals of joy only a room over, for several minutes before Castiel spoke again.
“You’re unsure of who you are,” Castiel said. It was a fact they both knew, even as Dean started to protest the topic. “I’ve already told you what I think, but let me remind you. You’re the single most loving person I have ever known. You love in spite of Chuck. You care about this broken world, even when it seems hopeless. You always have.” He paused for a long moment before saying, “In plainest terms, you’re a lover, not a fighter.”
“I don’t know about that one. Can’t I be both?”
Castiel let out a long-suffering sigh at that before wandering away to look at the other paintings.
Dean stayed by the painting of St. Sebastian for another few minutes, trying to see what Castiel saw in it before hearing Jack call for him a little way away, his high, childish voice carrying through the halls.
Dean Winchester is a lover.
Downstairs, there was a special exhibition on the history of dance. Jack practically dragged Dean in, his eyes wide and excitement palpable. Charlie and Castiel laughed and promised to catch up in a few minutes – Charlie wanted to grab a print of an art piece from the museum store. Dean and Jack wandered from exhibit to exhibit, looking at everything from classic vinyl to tap shoes. Despite the artifacts and objects, news clippings and sound bites, Jack was fascinated by a video of people swing dancing projected on the wall.
“What’s up, kid?”
“I wish I could do that.”
“You can,” Dean said. “You just have to do what they’re doing.”
Jack looked up to him, eyes wide and a broad grin starting to cross his face.
“Will you show me?”
It took a little bit of practice, and they missed more of the moves than they got, even with Jack standing on Dean’s shoes, but they both enjoyed what they were doing, which made it worth it. Jack’s smile as he danced up to Charlie and Castiel a few minutes later made it all the more precious.
“Come dance with us!” he called out before rushing back over to where Dean still stood.
“Having fun?” Cas asked as
“Cas!” Jack called. “Come on, come on, come on!”
Castiel smiled and shook his head before turning to Charlie and taking her hands. They instantly fell into sync with the video, matching the moves in perfect synchronicity. Dean felt himself stop in shock as Castiel flipped Charlie over his shoulder as if it was no great feat.
“Woah, when did you learn to dance like that?”
“I do have some memories of watching humanity. I was even on Earth when this dance was invented.”
“And I took dance lessons a few years ago,” Charlie offered by way of explanation.
“I guess we’ll just have to up our game, huh Jack?”
Jack giggled, his gap-toothed smile looking all the more excited. They busted out a few new moves, even improvising for a while.
“Dude, you dance like a dad!” Charlie laughed, twirling Castiel as she did so.
Dancing there in the museum, Jack on his feet as Castiel and Charlie watched on, Dean came to a final realization of the day.
Dean Winchester is a father.
As the day drew to a close, the group started to head out. Jack clung to Dean’s back, wiped out after a long day of dancing and wandering the museum. He watched the birds fly overhead in the golden light as they wandered to the car. Cas took the backseat with Jack, who promptly fell asleep.
“This was fun,” Charlie said, setting the bag with her art print on the seat between her and Dean. “It’d been a while since I’d gone out like this.”
It had been fun. It was nice to enjoy the world rather than save it.
Even if he was still working on figuring out who he was, Dean finally felt content.
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karlsjackbox · 3 years
Text
the end. | irl!quackity x gn!reader
A VIEW OF two people falling out of love.
type: angst
warnings: taking pills (brief, not much context), swearing, fight, death threat
w/c: 1.6k
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quackity pushed his hair out of his face, fingers placing themselves in a rhythm on the keyboard. music played through his headphones, placed on the second to last volume to help soothe his aching headache. eyes traveling to the corner of the screen, his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it being 4:57am. rubbing his eyes, he leaned back and let out a sigh. saving the document he was writing on, quackity shut off the monitor and shuffled his feet.
the door across the room opened. snapping his eyes forward, quackity was met with his s/o holding their cat, tired smile adorning their face. quackity mirrored the smile, pushing himself off of the chair and standing beside his love. “you’re awake late.” he muttered, though his words slurred together. y/n looked at him with a lopsided grin, pressing a short kiss to his lips. “couldn’t sleep without you.” quackity gasped, using his hands to cover tiger’s eyes.
the paired laughed, dragging themselves to the bedroom.
it had been a few weeks. y/n’s eyes forced themselves open, bed empty beside them. quackity was laughing down the hallway, having to ignored the text from y/n asking him to tone down just a little. rubbing their eyes, y/n sat up and tapped on their phone. 4:23 am. muttering a curse to themself, they laid back down. shutting their eyes, y/n eventually fell asleep to the sound of their boyfriends muffled laughter and curses.
quackity ended the stream near 5am. he leaned back with a sigh, rubbing his face as the discord call eventually dropped. grabbing his phone, he check notifications and read the text from y/n with a frown. he texted a quick sorry ! just saw this :( coming to bed now <3. with no text back, he pushed himself off of the chair and shuffled his way to the bedroom. tiger rubbed against his leg, the mexican biting a smile back. y/n laid curled up, body facing the wall as they snored quietly. 
quackity shuffled out of his day clothes, sliding into pajamas as he laid beside y/n and fell asleep.
y/n danced around the kitchen, music playing quietly through their phone as they made their breakfast. they hummed along, carefully pouring their cereal into their bowl. scratching their chin, they turned at the noise of somebody behind them. quackity stood in the doorway, hair messed up from sleep. “hi, my love.” y/n greeted.
taking a minute to answer, quackity shut off his phone and sighed. “good morning.” he sat down at the table, rubbing his eyes. “whats up?” y/n asked, pouring their milk and grabbing a spoon from the drawer. they sat across from quackity, who had picked up his phone as it buzzed. 
“tommy wants me to record today and george wants me on his stream. i’m trying to make them both work and i just don’t know if i can.” quackity explained, using his hand for more emphasize. y/n swallowed the cereal before answering, crossing their legs at the ankle. “i think you need a day off.” they huffed, eyes rolling. “i wish.” quackity responded, standing to make his own cereal.
“i’m serious. we haven’t spent time together in forever.” y/n shrugged, getting no response. “i can try for soon, but definitely not today.” quackity kissed y/n’s temple before he sat across from them again.
quackity didn’t talk to y/n until the next afternoon.
y/n sat on the couch, holding a mug of hot cocoa. their legs were crossed, eye trained to the television screen as rapunzel played. they hummed along to the songs, turning at the sound of footsteps. quackity held his phone to his ear, laughing at something somebody said.
y/n smiled at him and gave a short wave, quackity repeating the wave and making his way into the kitchen. the refrigerator door opened and closed, y/n turning their head and resuming the movie. 
quackity took out the strawberry container from the fridge and made his way into the living room, standing at the doorway as he listened to karl talk. eventually he tossed the container away, finishing the strawberries and going back upstairs to his recording room.
by the time the movie finished, the sun was barely kissing the horizon. turning spotify on through the tv, music started to play through the playlist, ‘y/n & quackity!!’. y/n smiled at the memory of them sitting together and making the playlist on their second date.
making their way into the kitchen, y/n opened the cabinet and pulled out the pasta noodles. pulling out a pot and filling it with water, they began to boil it and dump in the noodles. their phone gave a simple ding! and another notification came through.
alex<3: can u plz turn music down? streaming soon x
y/n frowned, though gave a simple thumbs up. they tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl and left it to drip, entering the living room and shutting of the tv in a whole. tiger sat on the couch, head peeking up with a quiet ‘mrrp?’ as the noise suddenly ended. cooing, y/n walked over and scooped him up, cradling him as they made their way into the kitchen again to stir the pasta.
setting tiger down on the floor after 15 minutes, y/n scooped the pasta into two seperate bowls and ran butter through them. deciding against sauce, y/n placed the bowls on the table and texted quackity.
you: made pasta !! <3
the food was still untouched by the next morning.
it had been a while since then. y/n woke up before quackity. they were faced with his back, black sweatshirt hugging his body. they sat up slowly, sun fading through the curtains and hitting the blanket. they shivered a little, blinking hard a few times to try and wake themselves up. after a few more moments, they pulled their legs out from underneath the blanket and carefully moved away from quackity and out of the room.
quackity woke up an hour or so later, groaning softly as the sun had now positioned itself to hit his eyes directly. he sat up, head turning to look at y/n. frowning as nobody was there, he picked up his phone and drug himself out of the room. the house was empty as he searched around for his s/o, frown adorning his face.
standing in front of the fridge, a sticky note hung to it.
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quackity ripped off the sticky note, crumbling it in his pocket as he opened the fridge to search for his breakfast.
y/n returned home that night to the noise of muffled swears and laughter, though y/n wore mainly a frown. their bones ached and a headache roared. sighing, they dropped their bag and kicked off their shoes and made their way into the bathroom. they opened the medicine cabinet and took out tylenol, swallowing the pill with sink water in their mouth.
rubbing their nose, y/n made their way upstairs to their bedroom. they grabbed clean clothes and made their way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the water run until it was hot. they stripped and dropped their clothes onto the floor, pushing them into the corner before stepping into the shower. y/n couldn’t help the sigh that escaped their mouth as everything from the day washed away, lathering their hair with shampoo and conditioner.
quackity ended the stream around the same time that y/n stepped out of the shower. he sat at his desk for a moment longer, chatter with his friends slowly dying down. “hey guys, i’m gonna head off now.” after a wave of goodbyes, he left the discord call and stood up.
quackity made his way into the bedroom, y/n sat on the edge of the bed. sliding off his beanie, quackity ruffled his hair and let himself fall beside his s/o. they didn’t talk, y/n texting somebody before shutting off their phone. they let out a sigh and rubbed their face, tossing their phone beside them.
curling up, y/n and quackity fell asleep facing each other for the last time.
they woke up at the same time. y/n sat up and rubbed their eyes, yawn falling from their mouth. there was a tension in the room quackity couldn’t figure out. “hey, wanna watch a movie?” y/n asked, scratching their nose as they met eyes with their sleepy boyfriend. “mm.. i can’t. i have homework and i have to be on a stream,” quackity slurred, missing how y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. tsking, y/n stood. “right.”
quackity’s head shot up at their tone. “what do you mean?” he questioned, choosing to stay silent on their eye roll. “you haven’t spent time with me in ages. i’m shocked i even fell asleep with you beside me.” the younger shrugged, opening their closet to pull out a sweatshirt.
“yeah, because its my job? the fuck do you mean?” quackity sat up, leaning his weight on his hands. “okay? you can still make time for me. i’m not just somebody who feeds you, alex.” y/n turned to meet his eyes, hands resting on their hips. “i can handle myself, you know.” quackity rolled his eyes.
“i wanna see you fucking try.”  y/n looked the older up and down. “you just mooch off of me anyway. if you’re so pissy about me working then leave.” quackity seethed, anger radiating off of me. he froze as the words fell out of his mouth, y/n’s hands dropping. “i hope you fucking starve. waste of space.” y/n cursed, turning and grabbing their bag from the closet.
“y/n, i didn’t-- we didn’t mean that.” quackity apologized, stepping towards the younger. y/n stayed silent, shoving random clothes into their backpack. quackity didn’t try to fight them, standing and watching them pack with tears brimming his eyes.
“..is it the end for us?” it was silent. the silence pushed against quackity’s skull, taunting him in a way he would remember forever. y/n turned, face blank as their eyes were puffy.
“it was the end a long time ago.”
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180 notes · View notes
13uswntimagines · 3 years
Text
She Might be a Forward, but You’re a Keeper (Emily Sonnett x Reader)
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Request: Emily x reader where r doesn’t have the best reputation and is sorta known for being a troublemaker but once Emily comes into the picture everything changes. Livin’ The Dream by Morgan Wallen is what made this pop into head.
Author’s Note: Firstly, Firerfly and i thank the one voter so much for voting for this fic. Secondly this almost didn’t happen because my dumbass deleted from the doc just seconds after we had finished it. Thank you to @literaryhedgehog​ for saving it. 
“You have to do it Sonnett,” Lindsey said sternly, taking a sip of her drink and ignoring Emily’s puppy eyes. She wasn’t going to feel bad about this. It was only fair, since she was the one who got them caught. 
“Yeah,” Rose added, crossing her arms. “consider it your punishment for not following through on our prank on Pino.” Meghan had been pissed, and the lecture they had gotten did not seem to fit the crime, especially since they had been stopped. All they wanted to do was start an itsy bitsy prank war. Where was the harm in that?
“Oh come on.” Emily whined, glancing back and forth between the two girls and the woman standing on the other side of the room. “She would have murdered me if I let you put blue dye in her shampoo,” Emily said, her bottom lip trembling. 
“And now Y/n might kill you so we’re even,” Lindsey shrugged, fighting a smile. Whatever way this ended, it would be entertaining for her. 
Some might think that that it was a gross overstatement, but it wasn’t. You had a reputation. A terrifying history of explosions on the pitch, and a complete lack of approachability off of it. You didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, Alex and Kelley being the only exception, but you had known them forever so it didn’t count. 
You didn’t have many friends (contrary to what the public though), but you were viciously loyal to the people you actually let get close to you. 
The youngins had been warned that you did whatever (and whoever) you wanted and they should steer clear. You wouldn’t mess with them as long as they didn’t mess with you. 
The problem was that the blond defender was smitten from the first moment she saw you this season. When she had first joined the team you had just been another veteran and the excitement of joining the national team had overshadowed everything else. But then you transferred to Washington during Club season and she started noticing you everywhere.  Partially because you were everywhere- weaving around the field and her vision, at team events and now here at camp, and… she might have been caughts staring once or twice. Maybe Emily had tripped over her own feet a few times because she accidentally got distracted by the sight of you pouring water over your head after a hot practice, who's to say. Either way,  her two meddling best friends knew about her little crush and had decided to use it as blackmail. 
“I hate you guys,”  Emily said, downing half her drink for liquid courage. 
Lindsey rolled her eyes and shoved the defenders shoulder. “No you don’t,” 
“You better get your ass over there before she starts flirting with another girl,” Rose said with a disinterested wave of her hand, motioning towards the dejected Brunette walking away from you. There was a parade of women all night, and it seemed none of them were having any luck. 
Your eyes followed the woman as she left, but your face didn’t betray any emotions, appearing completely uncaring to anyone who happened to glance in your direction. 
Emily nodded. It was now or never she supposed. 
*****
You took an uninterested sip of you beer, swirling your finger around the glass when you set it back down on the bar. You had never exactly found team bar nights fun. It felt like thousands of people would come up and talk to you (and call you by name) and expect you to instantly be their friend. 
You didn’t need anymore friends. 
You took another sip of your flat beer, making a mental note to chastise Alex later for her terrible bar choice, and stared listlessly at the football (American style) game on the tv. 
“Hey, wanna hear a joke about paper?” You turned slowly to look at the speaker. You squinted at the blond defender, tilting your head to the side, not letting your surprise that a youngin actually had the balls to talk to you off the pitch show on your face. 
She scratched the back of her head grinning impishly at you. “Never mind, it’s tearable.”
You raised your eyebrow at the woman, you lips ticking up slightly at her adorable fidgeting. 
That seemed to give her confidence, as she set her drink down and slid into the unaccompanied stool next to you. 
“Why didn’t the vampire attack Taylor Swift? She had bad blood.” 
You suppressed your snort at the terrible joke, hiding it behind a sip of your bad beer. 
“It’s more fun if you actually let me respond before you hit me with the punchline,” You smirked, thoroughly entertained by the pink starting to bloom on the defenders cheeks. 
“Oh, my bad.” Emily said, making an embarrassed face. “Sorry, I often tell dad jokes- most of the time he laughs!’
This time you did snort, the smile you were holding back finally cracking across your lips. 
“Just most of the time? Sounds to me like you need to get a better one,”
“Is that a challenge I hear?” Emily said, a wicked gleam in her eye. A terrible joke competition was right up her alley.
“Not at all. I could never compete with someone with your… particular skill set. You should be a magician because you just make girls disappear,” You wiggled your fingers, mimicking a magical motion. 
“Ouch,” Emily said, holding back giggles. 
“You could let me ice that burn as consolation,” You shrugged, also holding in a giggle. 
“Nah, I just need to wait a little for it to warm back up. You know what the hottest time of day is?”
“No, what?”
“Two- flirty!”
You cackled loudly, nearly throwing your head back. 
****
“Is the Ice Queen actually smiling?” Kelley asked, sliding into the booth beside Alex, passing a disgustingly fruity drink to her girlfriend. 
“It appears so,” Alex nodded, pushing the stupid mini unbrella out of her way to take a sip. 
Her eyes followed your laughing form, taking in how your eyes lit up, and the way you leaned closer to the blond defender. It wasn’t your typically cocky posture when you talked to girls, you seemed much more unguarded. 
“Who knew Junior had it in her. I never thought she’d work up the courage,” Kelley smirked over the edge of her drink. Emily’s crush on you wasn’t a secret (to the two of them at least), but they never dreamed Emily would actually make a move. 
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n look at anyone like that.” Alex started thoughtfully. “Well maybe-”
“We don’t speak her name Alex,” Kelley interrupted with a glare. They didn’t talk about your previous relationship. It had nearly ruined you completely. 
Rose and Lindsey joined Alex and Kelley where they were standing, all four trying to hide the fact that they were staring at you and Emily together. 
“You enjoying the show too?” Rose said, shaking her head slightly as she watched. What the heck could you two be talking about? For a few seconds she saw you talk animatedly then - in unison with Emily - double over in laughter. 
“You know something about this that we don’t?” Alex asked, glancing at the two younger players. 
Rose and Lindsey exchanged a look. “Sonnett’s only over there because we made her,” Lindey said. 
“How?”
“Told her we’d rat her out to Vlatko for the snack incident last camp,” Rose shrugged. Revenge was best served with blackmail. 
“I didn’t know she had a soft side,” Lindsey said after a few minutes. 
“Only a few people actually get to see it,” Kelley shrugged. You were guarded but not heartless. It just took a special touch to break that cast iron shell. 
****
“Okay, okay. So I know a guy who's great at soccer but is super untidy.”
“You do?” You asked, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you were suddenly nervous. 
“Yeah, he’s just a Messi guy!” Emily said, already laughing on the last word. 
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I think these are just getting worse,” 
“Oh come on, you were the one who told the one about a frog liking hoppy beer,” Emily said, rolling her eyes. “I think that one was objectively worse.”
“Whatever you say cutie pie,” you said, leaning forward on your hand. You weren’t usually this interested in conversation. You were more of an… in and out kinda girl. But there was something about Emily that intrigued you. That pulled you in and made you want to know more about her than just her bedroom preferences. 
“Pie sounds so good right now,” Emily said sighing deeply. “I don’t even have a joke to go with that, I just like pie. Although I think I read one at some point for Pi day, I could google it…” 
“I don’t know any jokes either, but I do know a place pretty close to here if you wanted to ditch these losers,” You offered, picking idly at your napkin. 
“Losers? I didn’t know the men’s team was here!” Emily smirked. You didn’t know if she was blowing you off, or just completely missed what you were implying. 
“See that one was actually a good one. Those idiots wouldn’t know how to score if they were shooting at the broadside of a barn,” You shook your head. Half of the women’s team midfield had better finishing stats than all the men’s forwards. They were terrible. 
“Oh come on. They’re not that bad. At least 9% of them are keepers,” Emily laughed. “Well that’s their position anyway. But yes, I would love to go get some pie with you. Just don’t tell Dawn I broke my diet.” 
“No promises Princess,” You said standing, and holding out your hand to the woman. You kissed the back of her hand when she laced her fingers with yours, earning yourself another giggle. 
It made your heart flutter, and you just wanted more. 
“You sure you’re okay missing the end of the party?” Emily said hopefully, scanning as if to make sure no one would waylay you on your way out the door. The last thing she wanted was to get stopped by one of your parade of brunettes. 
“Better than okay. The word happiness might start with an H, but mine starts with U.” 
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Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 6)
Notes: Hi lovelies- sorry it's been a minute since I've been able to work on this fic! If you are just starting this ficlet I recommend starting at Part 1 and reading through or just popping over to read it on AO3 (I'll try to post it over there as soon as it's up here as well).
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"If you could do anything," Harry murmured one night while they were lying in bed after one of Draco's nightmares (although, truth be told, Harry hadn't been having a much better time trying to sleep), "What would you want to do?"
"You mean like as a career?" Draco asked.
Harry turned his head to look at him, watching Draco stare up at the ceiling, "Sure. Let's start there."
Draco hummed, "I always really liked potions, you know?" he said, turning his head so they were looking at each other. "I'd probably want to do my potions mastery and own a little apothecary or something." He shook his head and looked back up at the ceiling, "Not that anyone would want me to ma-"
He huffed, "I said if you could do anything. That means reality has no place in this conversation." He watched as the corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "Besides," he continued, "Those people are arseholes anyway. And they're wrong about you."
The other man cleared his throat, "What about you?"
"Oh, I want to be a hermit," Harry replied easily. "I never want to see a single person that recognizes me again. Except maybe the Weasleys and a few other friends."
"Cheater," Draco murmured.
(Read more below the cut)
"Hmm?"
"You're cheating," Draco said, rolling onto his side so he could look at Harry. "You told me that reality has no place in this conversation but you're making your entire decision in light of the fact that you're the savior of the wizarding world. If you were just," he shrugged one shoulder, "just Harry, what would you want to do?"
He hummed, "I suppose you're right. I don't know, I like building things," he said. "Maybe I'd want to do that for a living."
Draco gave him a little smile, "That sounds nice," he said with a yawn.
"Maybe I'd build your apothecary."
"Oh?" he asked, eyes sliding shut. "What would you build me?"
So Harry started talking, telling him about the cozy shop he'd build with lots of windows and shelves, with a little counter with an old fashioned register, the cat he'd find him to sit on the counter and silently judge people's purchases. He described the work space he'd build behind, more sturdy shelves made out of dark, strong wood; a cupboard for the ingredients that couldn't be in the light; a skylight to help to keep the room from being too dark. Harry told him how he'd build him a glass greenhouse where he could grow his own potion ingredients all year round.
By the time he ran out of words, Draco was sleeping again; eyes closed, mouth open just a little, the corner tipped up like he was smiling.
But Harry was wide awake, day dreaming.
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Harry was out of bed before the sun was up the next morning; plotting and planning, making lists in his head of all of the things he needed to buy as he drove the jeep into town.
It took an hour and a half to buy everything and Harry stopped at the bakery to pick up fresh croissants before driving back home. Before he started, he brewed coffee and left a cup of coffee under a stasis charm beside a fresh croissant for Draco when he got up.
Then he headed out and got to work.
Draco was a late sleeper. Not that Harry blamed him with the nights he had (or in general, it made a weird little part of him happy when Draco slept in) but he'd noticed in the past two weeks that Draco usually slept until around 10:00 am. This meant that Harry had a solid three and a half hours of work in before Draco wandered out with the cup of coffee cradled in his long pale fingers.
The entire frame was almost finished for the greenhouse he was building.
"Harry what-?" Draco started.
"Hey!" Harry said, grinning over at him and grabbing his shirt so he could wipe the sweat off his face. "How did you sleep?"
"Fine," he answered distractedly, "What are you doing?"
"I'm building you a greenhouse," he told him, "Here, come take the tour."
Draco followed behind him and Harry stepped through what would be the door. "Right, so what we walked through will be the door," he said. "Then once I get all of the glass installed I have the supplies to build raised beds all throughout."
He moved into the first room, "The greenhouse is split into four rooms," he continued. "That way we can do climate control. I'll charm the glass to respond to your specifications; some rooms can be darker and cooler, others bright and hot, you know?"
"What?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "obviously the interior walls are glass, too, but fortunately I'd helped with rebuilding one of the green houses at Hogwarts, so I know a spell that will let light come through the glass one way but not the other."
He continued on into the back room, "And then I thought this might work for a studio where you could make potions," he said. "I can build you a fantastic table," he added. "I'll line the walls with shelves for storage, I think there will be plenty of storage space."
"Harry," Draco said, sounding a bit dazed.
He looked over at Draco who was standing helplessly in the middle of the room, cup of coffee still clenched between his hands.
"Why are you doing all of this?"
His brow furrowed as he stepped closer, "What do you mean?"
"The greenhouse?"
"Oh," he said, "Well, I dug up a garden outside this morning, too. You're right, some things will probably grow great here naturally," he conceded. "I thought maybe I'd try my hand at growing some regular vegetables, too, if there's enough room."
Draco shook his head, "No, I mean why are you doing any of this?"
"I thought you'd be happy," he said, starting to feel unsure. "We can ask Ron and Hermione to pick up cauldrons, vials, whatever you need and send them to us."
He stared at him for a long moment, "Why would you do all of this?"
He tilted his head at the other man, "Because you said if you could do anything you'd want to make potions."
"And so you just built it?" he asked incredulously.
"Well, yes," Harry said with a shrug.
"You're insane!" Draco finally blurted. "You're an absolute nutter, Harry Potter."
"What?" he asked. "Why?"
"Because the world doesn't work like this!" he said. "I'm a death eater, Harry! I don't get to have gardens, and greenhouses, and people who care about me." He covered his mouth with a trembling hand.
His heart felt like it had been crushed. After a moment, he stepped forward, "You aren't what they want you to believe you are."
"Who are 'they'?" he asked.
The corner of his mouth tipped up, "Everyone." He shrugged, "Your parents,your teachers, your friends, the people at the ministry, me. You are so many things and a death eater may have been one of them when you had to be, but you aren't now."
"How do you know?"
"I can't explain it," he said, and it's true he couldn't. He thought about it for a minute, "I don't, I guess. But even if you were, I like to think that if you were given the opportunity for something different you'd take it."
Draco was quiet for a moment, searching Harry's face, "I would have," he said softly. "When Dumbledore asked," he continued, "If he could have kept me safe, kept my mother safe."
"I know," Harry replied because he did. "I was there. And I was there at Malfoy manor when you refused to identify me, when you gave me your wand. Which," he continued, "I'm guessing you knew was the master of the Elder Wand."
Draco looked down at his coffee cup, his thumb brushing nervously back and forth along the lip and Harry had a startling realization. Here, in this moment when neither of them knew what the future could hold, with Draco standing outside in pajamas with his hair still a mess from sleeping and Harry in a pair of filthy jeans and little else, when hardly anything made sense, there was one thing that did:
He was falling in love with Draco Malfoy.
Before he could start to panic, Harry pushed the thought to the back of his mind, he could think about it later. "Why didn't you tell anyone?" he said softly. "About saving my life? About your wand?"
Draco's head snapped up at that, "I tried," he rasped. "They didn't believe me."
"You aren't what they believe you are," Harry repeated. "You're good," he murmured, "And you have a gentle soul. You've seen too much of war and hurt; let me give you this."
"I shouldn't," Draco whispered.
"You should," Harry replied. "Please."
Draco's eyes searched his for a long moment, "Alright," he finally said. "But only if you let me help with something."
Harry smiled, "Done." Somehow he knew that he'd never say no to spending more time with Draco Malfoy.
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Veritaserum Prompt Part 1 Veritaserum Prompt Part 2 Veritaserum Prompt Part 3 Veritaserum Prompt Part 4 Veritaserum Prompt Part 5
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nothoughtsonlynat · 3 years
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Human (Natasha Romanoff)
Human: Chapter 1
A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC. For the sake of this fic we’re going to pretend that the Battle of New York lasted quite a few hours.
*This is my first ever fic and I wrote it at 3am so bear with me
WARNINGS: swearing; mentions of weapons; violence; panic attack; anxiety; my crappy writing; and I think that’s it (lmk if there’s anything I should add)
Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012:
The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in my brain before my eyes even opened. I didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time I've woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of my life. I no longer need to wake up this early, yet it’s a habit so deeply engrained in my framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. I roll out of bed and make my way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math I figured that I got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s more than usual. I started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”
The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of me and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”
“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”
“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” I slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat. 
“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and I could already feel my patience wavering.
Two Hours Later:
“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”
“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”
“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”
“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-“
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” I said, cutting him off.
“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”
“Better than the one I lived before.”
“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When I didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left my apartment, leaving me with nothing but my rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.
Troyes, France; May, 2012:
It had been four months since Director Fury came to my apartment in Barcelona. We’d kept in contact and he hasn’t given up on me joining S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm living in my third apartment since then. Wow…those landlords must really hate me. I was watching the seven o’clock news when I saw something that made me choke on my Cheerios. “An alien invasion?! What the fu-” My Cheerio-muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of my burner phone. “Hello?”
“Eight, you watched the news recently?”
“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”
“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes… aliens. I’m forming a team of…extraordinary people to help protect against these threats and they could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”
“I may be weird as hell but I ain't ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”
“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join once the battle is over, you can go right back to France and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence I agreed. 
“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. Wait, how do you know about my jet?”
He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”
New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later: 
I flew my jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. We don’t need to talk about how I got my hands on a German jet that can fly 2100mph. I saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. I maneuvered the jet and— wait…is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? Whatever. I landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines. I hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell the chick in the black uniform is and— whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing my steps had literally faltered in a mini gay panic, I slowed to a walk and said “Y’all need a hand?”
“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the redheaded source of my panic.
“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”
“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.
“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that I took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of my magazines into Chitauri bodies, I switched to my swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. I started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when I saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. I stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and the buff blonde guy with the hammer when the big green dude grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to us. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said nodding toward me. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed my blood-soaked form from head to toe. 
“See something you like, Red?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.
“Yeah that’s fair.” She shook her head at me with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up. 
“Anybody want shawarma?”
Three Hours Later:
I had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed me where to park my jet and directed me to a room so I could shower and stay the night if I wanted to. I had put on black jeans, a white tee, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in my jet. I was toweling off my hair when someone knocked on the door. I opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”
“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”
“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”
“You should come anyway.”
“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”
“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.
I walked into the conference room and the Avengers were already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names I learned from Hill— were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed me from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. I squinted my eyes and wiggled my eyebrows in response, and I could see her stifle a laugh. “What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression, which made me feel oh-so-special. 
“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”
“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”
“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”
“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.
“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”
“Don’t call me that, Eight.”
After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let us leave. I was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to me. “Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards me in an effort to catch up.
“Yeah?”
“Is your name actually Eight?”
“If you want it to be.”
“Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both of us were trying to figure out if the conversation was over. 
I was about to leave when she continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”
“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”
She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”
“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”
“You ignored my second question.”
“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that I turned around and started walking away, but a hand on my arm stopped me dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in my head, and I'm pretty sure Romanoff was saying something to me but I was too caught up in the memories of beatings, punishments, and psychological conditioning to register it. After a few of the longest seconds of my life, the white of my vision cleared up and the voice telling me ‘physical contact is strictly forbidden’ faded into the background. My heart was still hammering in my chest and I was trying to keep my breathing steady despite the inevitable panic attack trying to drag me under, I regained my neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”
“Are you okay?” She had a concerned expression and if I wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, I would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” I turned around and walked back to my temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind me, hot tears raced down my cheeks and I lost the ability to breathe. It was gonna be a long night.
3:21 am:
I finally managed to calm myself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Well, I passed out because I couldn’t breathe but it did calm me down. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so I decided to leave before anyone woke up. I didn’t really have much to pack so I grabbed my duffel bag and left the room. I made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads and ran into the one person I really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”
“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebellious streak?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”
“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”
“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” She studied me for what felt like way too long, probably debating if I would try to kill her or not. You know how spies are with their trust issues.
“What the hell, why not?”
And that is how I ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at me to, and I quote, ‘slow the fuck down.’ “Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”
“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”
“Germany.”
“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”
“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”
“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know? You’re only being like this to keep me from seeing the real you. You built walls. You want everyone to think you’re fine when in reality, you’re falling apart.”
“Okay…um…there was no need for that, Dr. Romanoff. I can find my own therapist, thank you very much. And don’t go pretending you’re all healthy in the head, Miss Assassin.” It was quiet for all of five seconds before we both burst into laughter.
Madrid, Spain:
I landed the jet at the local S.H.I.E.L.D. base and killed the engines. Romanoff and I removed our headsets and I stood to help her get her bags. “Welp, I’ll see you around I guess.” I really wasn’t good at this type of thing. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.
“Will I? See you around, I mean?”
“Um, I don’t really know, honestly. I’m not part of S.H.I.E.L.D. so we won’t just run into each other or anything but…”
“Why won’t you join S.H.I.E.L.D.? I mean what else are you doing?”
“Ohhh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” I was cut off when she threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Freaking crazy woman.”
When our laughter died down she said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”
“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give me a hug but she must’ve seen my body go rigid because she stepped back. She might’ve said something but the voice in my head was too loud for me to understand her. I don’t know how long it was before I unfroze but when I did, she was gone. I walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.
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hangovercurse · 3 years
Text
The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About vi
You and Colson grapple with being “just friends.”
Colson X Reader
Warnings: Cursing
Word Count: 1871
| i | ii | iii | iv | v |
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Hi friend
You were in the studio working on editing one of your songs when you got the text. You hated it, but you smiled automatically when his name popped onto your screen.
Hi friend
The past few days had been weird, but necessary. Colson ended up staying at Pete’s apartment the next night too, so you had plenty of time to figure out how “friends” worked. Unsurprisingly, you hated it. But it was the only way to keep Colson close to you, so you’d take it.
I’m bored
I thought you were friend?
Haha
But seriously you should entertain me
As friends
I’m in the studio rn
U can take a break
What would we do if I took a break?
You tried really hard not to flirt, but it came so naturally. But maybe if you convinced yourselves that you were just friends, it would happen. Because that’s how things work.
Lunch?
I’m hungry
I thought you were bored?
That joke is lame
:)
Will u pls go out to lunch with me
As friends
Hmmmmm
I suppose I could think about it
You sighed, saving the audio project and shutting the computer down. You hadn’t eaten all day and spending time with Colson wasn’t the worst way to spend your lunch break.
Y/N I will find you and drag you out of that studio
You don’t even know where I am
Where do you wanna go?
I could find out…
Whatever u want
Mediterranean? There’s a cute place right by me I’ve been wanting to check out.
You sent him the address, asking him to meet you in 10 minutes.
It’s a date
Wait
No
Not a date
Like I’ll see you then
You laughed as the texts came through your phone, shaking your head. You headed out of the building, walking towards the small restaurant. You weren’t exactly dressed in “lunch clothes,” because you had expected to stay in the studio all day, but you would survive.
You got in line at the blue painted restaurant, thankful that it wasn’t too long. You waited a few minutes before a familiar voice spoke from your side. “Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing all by herself?”
You smiled, turning to Colson. “Waiting for her friend to show up.”
He raised his eyebrows, a smirk on his face. “I hope your friend is as hot as you are.” He chuckled.
You rolled your eyes, “not even close.”
Luckily Colson understood you were joking and he laughed with you. “How have you been?” He asked, “did they catch the guy breaking into apartments?”
“I’ve been good, working.” You nodded, “yeah, they caught him. He broke into this police officer’s place while he was home.”
Colson huffed in amusement, “talk about bad luck.”
“Right? I mean, I’m glad they caught him but, I mean, what are the odds?” You moved forward in the line, reaching the hostess stand.
“Two please.” Colson asked, flashing the girl a smile. You bit your tongue to hide the scowl that almost instinctively came to your face.
The hostess was young and no doubt attractive. She batted her eyelashes towards the tall man, not even acknowledging you. “What’s the name?”
You furrowed your eyebrows as Colson answered, wondering why she would need his name if she was taking you to the table. “And what’s the number?” She asked sweetly. If you were drinking water you would have spit it out.
Colson blushed slightly as you stood in shock. “Um-I’m.” He looked at you as if to say “I’m here with someone” but then he must’ve realized that he wasn’t technically on a date. “You’re lovely, but I’m not interested.” He muttered out, an awkward look on his face.
You were trying your hardest not to look pissed off, because if you looked pissed off then the lie you and Colson have been telling each other about being just friends would be exposed.
The girl looked you over, eyes raking up and down you with a disgusted look on her face. You felt very self-conscious suddenly, your head turning towards the floor in embarrassment. Colson noticed and cleared his throat, “our table?”
The girl didn’t speak a word as she grabbed two menus and led you to the table. “Your waiter will be with you shortly.” She spit out, anger on her face. Your heart was beating very fast, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or sadness.
Colson eyed you from across the table as you played with the hair tie on your wrist. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” You spoke too fast to convince him, your quiet demeanor also giving you away.
He sighed, his foot kicking yours lightly and pulling your focus up to him. “Okay, you just seem a little uncomfortable.”
You huffed, “yeah, well, having girls look at me like I’m the scum of the earth does that to a person.”
He frowned, “You know she has, like, nothing on you, right?”
A small blush found your cheeks, and you looked down at your hands again. “You can’t say stuff like that.” You muttered.
“What? Friends say that stuff to each other! I’m trying to make you feel better.” His smile told you he knew what he had done, but he didn’t care.
You sighed, “yeah but you can’t say that to me.”
Colson gaped dramatically, “why not?”
“Because it’s different coming from you.” You laughed. “Why didn’t you give her your number?” You asked, curious for his answer.
He shrugged, “wasn’t interested. Guess I have high expectations.”
You rolled your eyes, “it’s not because I’m here, right?”
Colson let out a sigh, “N-“
He started to speak but was interrupted by the waiter at your table, “Welcome to Shuka, my name is Oliver, I’ll be your server today. Can I get you guys started with something to drink?”
“I’ll get a water, please.” You said, smiling at the man. Colson raised an eyebrow at you. “I have to go back to work after this.”
He chuckled, scanning the menu, “can I get a Nitro?” Oliver nodded, sending you both smiles before heading back to the kitchen.
You sent Colson a look, expecting him to continue your previous conversation. Instead, he continued to read through the menu. “Do you know what you want? I’m thinking about the Shak-Shakshu-.” He tried to pronounce the name of the dish but was failing.
You giggled, finding the dish on the menu, “Shakshuka.” You told him, “and I haven’t even looked.” You scanned through the menu in your hands, reading the names of the various dishes. Colson took to studying you, a small smile on his face.
“It’s not because you’re here. It’s because I’m genuinely not interested in anyone else.” He said out of the blue. Confusion flashed across your face before you understood what he was referring to. You took in a breath, trying to figure out how to respond. “I know I shouldn’t tell you that, but I just think you needed to know.”
You smiled to yourself, “I don’t mind, I just- it makes it harder to convince myself this isn’t a date.”
Colson nodded, “this is not a date. We are just two friends having a friendly lunch. As friends.” He was trying to convince himself too.
“Right. Friendly friends. Two people who are just friends.” You said, exaggerating the word “friends”. Awkwardness hung in the air for a few moments before you both started laughing.
You fell into the familiar pattern of conversation that seemed to come naturally to you both. When your meals arrived, you were both very excited. “Can I try some of yours?” You asked, sending him the most convincing puppy dog eyes you could muster. He chuckled, placing some of the poached egg onto his fork and moving it towards you. You rolled your eyes at the cliché but smiled anyways, letting him feed you. Your eyes widened in shock “that’s so good!”
He nodded, swallowing his food. “My turn.” He said, reaching over and plucking up a falafel from your plate with his fork. Once he finished eating he smiled at you, “you have excellent taste. You’re picking the restaurants every time now.”
You raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on your face. “So we’re going to have more of these friend lunches?” You asked.
“Duh. We’re friends. This is what friends do.”
You giggled, “I don’t hear about you and Pete going out for lunch together.”
The man chuckled, eyes closing for a moment. “If it’ll make you feel better I’ll take Pete to lunch one of these days.” That made you giggle even harder, shaking your head.
 Neither of you finished your meals, packing them into to-go boxes to eat later. When Oliver brought the check over, you were very flustered. Colson automatically reached to pay but you grabbed his wrist, “we’re on separate checks.” You told the server. Oliver nodded, moving to fix it until Colson spoke up.
“I got it, it’s not a problem.” You sent him a look. “I asked you to lunch, I pay.”
“Friends let their friends pay for themselves.” You muttered, moving your hand from his wrist.
He rolled his eyes, “you can pay next time.” Smiling smugly, he handed his credit card to Oliver, who was very confused. “Relax. I’m just being nice.”
You sighed, pouting slightly. “It’s already hard enough and then you make it worse by flirting and paying and- ugh.” You cut yourself off, frustrated.
Colson clenched his jaw, letting out a hard breath through his nose. “I know, I’m sorry. This isn’t exactly easy for me either.” You nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed at your small outburst. “We can do this.” He said, confidently. If only you could feel as confident as he sounded.
Once Oliver came back with the card and receipts, you both left the restaurant. You hadn’t noticed the cameras as you walked down the street with Colson, the conversation returning to light banter and jokes, but they noticed you.
Colson walked you all the way back to the studio you were working at, insisting on going with you all the way inside. “I just wanna see where you work.” He claimed, but you insisted it was just like every other studio.
You got into the elevator to ride up to the fourth floor, where your space was. Colson stepped in with you, a smile on his face. You sighed, pressing the button and waiting for the elevator to close.
“Hey Y/N?” He spoke as the doors began to shut. You looked up to him, eyebrow raised in question. The doors closed and instead of responding, Colson leaned down, pressing his lips to yours.
You kissed him back, hands cupping his face. You heard the elevator beep as you passed the second floor, and then the third floor. He pulled away, smile on his face.
You took in a deep breath, “I thought you…”
“Fuck it.” He muttered, standing up straight. You smiled, biting your lip. “But we’re not hiding this from Pete. We’re just… testing the waters.”
You hummed in agreement as the elevator doors opened, stepping into the hallway and leading him to your studio.
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kur0obee · 2 years
Text
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Title: Save me, Save yourself
Chapter 6
THIS SERIES IS 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
Pairing: Dabi x Reader
Word count: 2.2k
Notes: TW: depression, survivor guilt.
Masterlist ☆  Prev ☆  Next
BY CLICKING READ MORE, YOU ARE CONSENTING TO VIEWING WORK WITH THE ABOVE CONTENT. If it upsets you as you read, please take care of yourself and stop reading.
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Some days are easier than others. You wake up, and you feel just fine, able to carry out your day. Sometimes though, you wake up, and the mere thought of leaving bed is crippling. You can’t drag yourself out of the warmth of your blankets, a shield from the real world. Maybe if you stay there long enough, you’ll disappear. It’s a tempting thought, but a completely unfounded one. Even if your body feels like lead, like you’ll sink through your mattress and be swallowed wh'ole by the earth, you’ll still be here.
  A light sensation against your cheek rouses you from your unconscious ponderings. Dabi’s face is the first thing to fill your vision when your eyes open. He’s kneeled next to you, looking down at you, and you realize his hand tapping your cheek is what brought you back to consciousness. Must have hit your head on the landing. You sit up, steadying yourself with your arms. You’re honestly kind of surprised that Dabi woke before you, especially after that kick to the head he took. 
  “Welcome to the real world, Sunshine,” he says lazily, a slight smirk on his face. 
  Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes water immediately, hot tears spilling down your cheeks before you can even react. Dabi raises an eyebrow in surprise, taking a brief look around before putting his hand on the back of your head and pushing your face into the crook of his neck. 
  “Why are you crying?” his voice is low and close to your ear.
  Why are you crying? One single word? You fell apart at one single word? Pathetic. 
  You don’t respond, opting to throw your arms around him instead. He tenses up slightly at the action, but relaxes and puts his other arm around your back. You feel light-headed and realize your breathing has become rapid. You try to slow it, but your mind is running wild.
  What if you could have saved your dad? It’s your fault he’s gone. Maybe if you hadn’t asked him to go out that day or maybe if you had been paying attention to where you were going, maybe if your quirk was actually useful in those kinds of situations. You robbed your mom of a husband and your brother of a dad. You deserve all the suffering you’ve endured and more. 
  “You’ll draw unwanted attention to yourself,” Dabi breaks you out of the cycle, voice still low, “whatever it is, shelf it away for later. I’ll give you one more minute.”
  You take a deep breath in, hold, and slowly exhale. You subtly rub your face against Dabi’s coat, trying to dry your tears as best as you can. Dabi lets go of you, and you follow suit, mustering the most unaffected sounding voice that you can.
  “Ah, sorry, I guess I was just worried about you,” you laugh, hoping you sound believable enough, “should know better by now.”
  Dabi stands, offering a hand to pull you up, just as he did the night you met, and you take it. You look around at your comrades. Shigaraki is sitting on the ground, scratching furiously at his neck, clearly distraught. Probably best to leave him for last. Next to him is Kurogiri who’s still knocked out. Nothing you can do for that. Magne, Spinner, and Mr. Compress are sitting near each other with Twice and Toga sitting a little bit away from them. You decide to approach Magne first.
  “Do you have any cuts or scrapes?” you lean down next to her. 
  “Just a couple on my arms,” she examines her elbow before adding, “this one’ll probably scar.”
  “Good news,” you reply, hovering your hands over the wound closely, “this way won’t leave a scar.”
  True to your words, after a moment you pull your hands away to reveal unmarred flesh. She lets out a noise of delight, looking closely at the skin. After finishing with the other minor injuries, you move on to Spinner who just waves you along. It doesn’t appear that he got any wounds from the whole ordeal, probably thanks to his more reptile-like skin. 
  “I suppose that means I’m next,” Mr. Compress says, removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to give easier access to the cuts and scrapes on his arms. 
  Thankfully it seems like everyone only has minor wounds, things that would heal quick enough on their own, but you don’t want to feel like you came here for nothing today. You don’t want to feel useless.
  “Are you alright dear?” he asks, breaking you out of autopilot.
  You blink up at him for a moment before responding, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
  “You seem in poor spirits. Hmm, oh what’s this?” he reaches near the side of your head and pulls back his hand to reveal a single coral colored rose, “ah, seems this is for you.”
  The action surprises you, but you can’t control the smile you react with, taking the rose after you’ve finished healing him. You’ve never received a flower from anyone before. 
  “We’ll have more chances. It’s nowhere near over,” he reassures you, offering a charming smile.
  “Thank you,” you respond genuinely. You’re not feeling sullen over the outcome of the plan, but you appreciate the thoughtful gesture. He smiles and gives your hand a gentle squeeze before you get up to take care of the others.
  Dabi watches the interaction between you two, eyes narrowing at your hands. He doesn’t like it, that’s for certain, but he ignores the feeling, opting instead to cross his arms and lean against the wall to watch you make your way to Twice and Toga. He can’t hear your conversation from this spot, but he can see Toga talking to you animatedly, smiling wide as she tends to. Your response is short, but it seems to make the other girl even more excited. You offer a nervous smile back as you start to heal her, and he assumes the conversation is probably similar to the first one you had with her. Twice doesn’t seem to have any injuries, so you rejoin Dabi.
  “Not gonna check on Crusty over there?” he asks, nodding his head toward Shigaraki.
  “Not thrilled at the thought of being turned to dust,” you reply, looking down at the rose in your hands, “besides, he probably doesn’t have anything worse than a scraped knee.”
  All of the injuries, if you could even call them that, were very minor. None of them were more than a light scrape or a very small cut. It’s not like you want your teammates to have serious wounds or anything, but you feel like being here to do something so minor is worse than if you hadn’t even come. They’d be completely fine even if you didn’t exist at all. You feel yourself deflate slightly, and all you want to do is go home, shower, and sleep. Dabi notices your shift in demeanor.
  “We’re clear to go now,” he says, heading towards an exit. 
  “Slow down,” you half jog to catch up with him, “didn’t realize you were so eager to leave.” 
  “I don’t make it a habit to stay in one place for too long,” he shrugs, “didn’t realize you were so eager to stay.”
  You roll your eyes but don’t say anything. You’re honestly grateful he stopped at that sentence, although your mind fills in where he left off. Still want to play medic? Trying to feel useful for once? Maybe you’d be forgiven is what you’re hoping. Pitiful. 
  You have to admit that it’s pretty ironic that some part of your brain thinks you’ll be forgiven by helping villains. Maybe it’ll damn you further? Maybe there’s no path to redemption for you. But if there’s even a small percent chance that society can change even a little bit, maybe that’s worth the further damnation . 
  You snap out of your thoughts when you realize Dabi is still walking with you in the direction of your apartment. 
  “What are you doing?” You ask. 
  “Walking,” he replies. This guy.
  “Aw so you’re worried about me?” You joke before seriously adding, “you don’t need to worry about me.”
  It would be nice if someone did worry about you though, someone who’s not family. You’re not worth that emotional effort to anyone else. You don’t deserve it. 
  “You sure about that?” He glances back at you, adding in an exaggerated tone, “you’re my partner after all.”
  “Haha,” you say sarcastically, electing not to respond further. 
  “You still need to repay me,” he kicks at a pebble, sending it skittering ahead, “so don’t go and off yourself yet.”
  “I wouldn’t-,” you almost say you wouldn’t do something like that, but this is the only person in the world who knows you would, the one person you can’t lie to, “I’m not going to.”
  “Good,” he glances back at you again with a smirk, “afterwards you can do whatever you want.”
  “Thanks,” you scoff, “but seriously, why are you going this way?”
  “I’m staying in a place over here tonight,” he explains, shrugging.
  You pause for a moment, staring hard at his back. You have a suspicious feeling about this but choose to ignore it and continue in the same direction. You twirl the rose by its stem as you walk, admiring the way the flower blooms just a little bit more. Dabi stops in front of you, and you realize you’ve arrived at home. 
  “This is my stop,” you announce, ascending the stairs and taking a quick glance back at him. He’s already continued in the direction of his destination, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Thought he might try to stay here or something. That doesn’t make sense you guess. He doesn’t have any reason to. It’s just some weird coincidence.
  When you unlock the door and step inside, you’re met with the faint sound of Hiroki’s voice drifting from the living room. You take off your shoes and quietly approach, making sure to stay out of sight. A quick peek informs you that he’s the only person in the room, sitting in front of the picture of your dad that’s kept on the family altar. You’re about to walk away and let him be alone to express himself when you hear a light sniffle. Eavesdropping isn’t good, but you’re worried about him.
  “I’m doing good in my classes though,” he sniffles again, “I… wish you were here. Mom hasn’t been the same since. It’s like I lost both of you.”
  You know he was talking even before you started listening, but his words make your chest ache regardless. You wish he was here too. You did this to him. You caused Hiroki this pain. Your eyes water, and you retreat to your bedroom, making sure to close the door quietly. 
  “You always cry this much?” 
  You whirl around with a startled gasp to find Dabi standing in your room, leaning against your dresser. You knew he was up to something. How did he get in here anyways?
  “Why are you here?” you ask, sitting down on the edge of your bed, “stalking isn’t a good look for you.”
  He shrugs, “Why be sad? Why not be angry?”
  “I am angry,” you deadpan, “angry at myself.”
  He pushes himself off the dresser, closing the distance between you, “why?”
  Thinking about your reasons, about saying them out loud to someone else for the very first time, makes your face feel hot. You turn your head to the side, contemplating. He already knows. He read (and took) your note. Why is he trying to make you say it out loud?
  After a few moments of silence, he puts his hand on your chin, angling your face to look up at him standing in front of you. The action makes your face feel even more hot. Whether that’s due to his actions or the heat radiating off him, you’re unsure, but you definitely feel embarrassed. 
  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he says uncharacteristically softly, “accept that you were just a kid, and it was the adult’s responsibility to deal with. It was the hero's responsibility.”
  You swallow thickly, doing your best not to pull away from his grasp. His blue eyes seem to see straight into your mind as he stares at you. You didn’t put all that in the note. Maybe you’re just that transparent or he’s just that good at reading people.
  “I’m right, so keep repeating that to yourself until you believe it,” he moves his hand to your cheeks, squishing them together and making your lips pucker tightly, “be angry at the hero who failed, not yourself.”
  The way he says ‘hero’ sounds like he’s tasted something bad, like the word itself is bitter to speak. You push his hand off your face. He doesn’t really understand, but it’s nice that he’s trying to cheer you up. Probably with ulterior motives though. It’s not that easy, but you don’t feel like talking about this right now, especially when you’re so tired.
  “Sure,” you stand up, pushing past him to set the single rose on the top of your dresser. You’ll press it later, so you can always remember your first flower. When you turn back around, Dabi is laying on your bed, arms crossed behind his head. You frown.
  “You’re not staying here,” you declare, “my family lives here, too, and I don’t want them to see you or know about… us.”
  “Us?” he quirks his eyebrow suggestively, and you roll your eyes in response, “I’ll stay in here then. What’re we going to eat?”
  This is going to be a long night. 
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silhouetteofacedar · 3 years
Text
Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 21: Body Talk
Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E
Mulder’s thirty years past kindergarten, but the anticipation he’s feeling in his body is reminiscent of the excitement he felt as a child over bringing his new model airplane to school for show-and-tell. Except the context is very, very different.
He’s got an envelope tucked into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, and he’s highly aware of every crinkle it makes as he strides through the halls, making his way down to the basement.
He’d expected to receive a clean bill of health, so the contents of the envelope weren’t a surprise. Even so… he’s fuckin’ thrilled.
“Morning, Scully,” he says cheerily, waltzing into the office and peeling off his jacket. “Another hot one out there, huh?”
“Mhm,” she responds, already elbow deep in paperwork. She’s always got her nose in some pile of documents, his Scully. God, she’s so cute, it’s unbearable. He thinks of when they first met, how rosy and round her cheeks were. He regrets not having done something earlier; he missed out on kissing her adorable baby face.
He really wants to kiss her now, but they’re at work, and she’s made it abundantly clear that At Work Scully is not open to the physical demonstrations enjoyed by Off Duty Scully. Instead he sidles up beside her, holding out the envelope in front of her.
She takes it, clearly noticing that it’s already been opened. “What’s this?” she asks.
“Just a little something, from me to you,” Mulder replies, going around the desk and plopping into his chair. He clasps his hands behind his head casually, grinning at her as she slides the folded paper out of the envelope.
Scully unfolds the page and scans it, nodding to herself. “Congratulations,” she says, glancing up at him. “This is… welcome news. But you didn’t need to bring me the physical test results, Mulder. Your word is enough.”
“Oh, but I know how much you enjoy solid evidence,” he says with a wink. “So, uh… do you have your results back yet?”
“This is definitely not an office-appropriate conversation,” she warns him, slipping the page back into the envelope.
“Sorry,” he says, lowering his voice. “But…”
“Yes,” she says quietly. “Last week. I’m in the clear.”
He smiles even wider at her. “So, given this new information, what do you suggest we do, Agent Scully?”
She holds the envelope out to him across the desk. “Right now, our jobs.”
He licks his lips, nods. “Of course.”
Ten minutes later, she gets up to put a file in the filing cabinet. As she closes the drawer, she lets out a soft cough.
“Friday,” she says in a low tone. “My place.”
Mulder feels a thrill roll through his stomach. “Now how am I going to get a single thing done around here ’til then?” Mulder asks. “All I can think about is-”
She gives him a warning look.
“-You,” he finishes. “Every moment, Scully.”
Scully gives him a little pout. “I’m sorry, Mulder. That must be very difficult for you. You know what you need?”
“What?”
She picks up a stack of folders out of their in-basket and drops it in front of him on the desk. “A case.”
Mulder doesn’t find them an actual case, but he does manage to annoy Scully with conjecture and conspiracy for two whole days until it’s closing time on Friday night.
This could be the most important romantic encounter of his life, and he wants to make sure he’s adequately prepared. He takes a cold shower when he gets home, scrubbing every inch of his body until his skin tingles. He clips and files his nails, plucks some stray hairs, trims a few scraggly ones down south. He almost shaves his face before deciding to leave it be. He suspects Scully likes a little stubble, after all.
It’s a warm evening, so he throws on a gray t-shirt and jeans and bounds out the door with damp hair and crisp, soap-fresh skin.
As a rule, he doesn’t sing while driving; but today, he’s humming just a little.
He knocks on her door at quarter to seven, bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to shake out a little anxious energy. This isn’t a prom date, he chides himself. Calm down and be an adult.
The lock is turning and the door is swinging open and there Scully is, looking soft and inviting and dangerous all at once. “Hi,” she says, giving him a little smile.
“Hi,” he says softly, eyes drawn immediately to the low neckline of her simple wrap dress. He snaps his gaze back up to her face again. “Hi, sorry, I’m-”
“A little distracted?” she asks slyly. She opens the door wider. “Come in,” she says, beckoning.
“I, uh, didn’t bring anything,” he says awkwardly, following her into the apartment. “And now that I’m here that feels kinda thoughtless.”
“What would you have brought?” Scully asks.
He shrugs. “Flowers, wine, something that says ‘I want to get laid but I also respect you’,” he says.
“Well, that’s unnecessary,” she says, going into the kitchen and opening her junk drawer. “I already know that.” She pulls out a small stack of takeout menus. “I’m assuming you haven’t had dinner yet?”
I was kind of planning on having you for dinner. “I have not,” he replies.
She hands him the menus. “Pick a place, we can call something in,” she says. She takes a box of matches out of the drawer and walks over to the fireplace.
Mulder glances over the menus, but he’s mostly watching Scully. She seems relaxed and comfortable, lighting a few candles atop the mantlepiece.
“You want a little music?” she asks, blowing out the match.
“Sure,” he replies. “Surprise me.”
“Promise you won’t tease me for this,” she says, flipping through a stack of CDs.
“Any of those restaurants sound appealing?”
“The Italian place sounds good, but I don’t want my garlic breath to put you off,” he admits sheepishly.
She glances over her shoulder at him, giving him a little smile. “That restaurant usually sends a few mints in the bag; and you have a toothbrush here, if it’s that big of a problem.” She puts a CD into the stereo.
“I don’t mind if you don’t,” he says. “You want me to call it in?”
“Sure,” she replies. “You can order me a chopped salad and some of their spinach ravioli. And get garlic bread,” she adds.
When he hangs up the phone, he sees her standing by her stereo, nodding her head in time to the music. The song is slow and sensual, and somehow familiar. He goes to her, places a hand on her lower back. His spot.
“Marvin Gaye?” he guesses.
“Mm, no. Al Green,” she replies.
“Ah,” he says, nodding. “Never took you for a Motown fan, Scully,” Mulder says, pulling her in by the waist. “You always keep me guessing.”
She closes her eyes, sways in his arms. “I save this one for very specific moods,” she admits.
“And what moods are those?” he asks, running a hand up her back.
She opens her eyes. “I’ll show you later,” she whispers.
She’s looking at him with so much heat and adoration, and her lips are so full and soft, he can’t speak; only lean down and kiss her.
They drift together, interlocking shapes moving through space, rearranging patterns of hands and lips.
“We’re going to get interrupted by a delivery guy again,” Scully says against his cheek.
“Mm… kinky,” Mulder whispers, lips brushing her ear. “This is gonna become a pattern for us. Are you an exhibitionist, Scully?”
“Baby steps,” she says, patting his chest as she pulls away. “I need to leave a few mysteries for you to discover later, right?”
They sit cross-legged on the floor next to her coffee table, knees touching companionably as they eat their dinner.
“You know,” Scully says around a bite of garlic bread, “This makes me think we should go on another picnic. Since the weather is more appropriate.”
“What, sitting on the frozen ground at night in February wasn’t your idea of a good time?” Mulder jokes, tangling his fork in linguini.
“I didn’t say that,” Scully points out. “In fact, that was one of my better birthdays in recent years.”
“Really,” Mulder says, surprised. “Why?”
She absently toys with a hole in his sock. “Because… because I’d had a rough year,” she explains, “And you put thought and care into doing something special for me. And it was perfect, in all its perceived imperfections. It made me feel that for once… you were finally paying attention. You saw me.”
“Saw you?” he asks softly, turning his head to look at her.
Her eyes shine into his. “Yes. You were there for me through my cancer, with Emily… you were becoming more attentive. And I felt like you were considering me, caring for me, knowing what I needed. Seeing.”
“I-I think that’s called love, Scully,” he says, chewing pensively. Part of him is surprised this is even happening; them sitting on the floor in her apartment, eating pasta out of styrofoam boxes, talking about their feelings. Hell, he just said the ‘L’ word without breaking a sweat.
“You’re right,” she says, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder. “It is.”
Supper completed, containers emptied, candles burning down to stubs on the mantle, Scully sitting across his thighs as they kiss slowly. She was right about the mints, it turns out.
“Mulder, I’m a coward,” she sighs, running her fingers down his jaw. “I’ve been in love with you for years and I still haven’t said the words.” She presses a kiss to his lower lip. “Even though I know you reciprocate.”
“Take your time,” he replies, carding his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. “I already know. And you technically did just say them,” he adds. “Besides, there’s more than one way to have a conversation.” He smoothes a hand over her kneecap, inching a finger beneath the hem of her dress.
“Mulder,” she murmurs into his neck, his name sweet in her mouth. “I’m ready. I want to be with you tonight. Completely.”
He can feel his pulse throbbing beneath her lips. “I… God, Scully, I want you so badly,” he sighs. “I can’t think of any other words. I'm all out.”
She kisses his nose, untangles herself from him to stand. “Come on,” she says softly, holding out a hand. “I think it’s time for a different kind of conversation.”
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Text
The Beach - a The Rookie/Chenford Fanfic
“7-Adam-11, show us responding,” Jackson said over the radio as Lucy leaned back against her headrest defeatedly.
“I didn’t think I’d ever say this but I really don’t want to go to the beach.” “Like ever again,” she added even as she took the first turn towards their destination. 
LA was 4 days into a record heat wave and over that time Lucy had learnt a few important things 1) Unsurprisingly, extreme heat causes everyone to flock to the ocean. 2) It also makes people extremely irritable. 3) Lots of irritable people packed together in large groups leads to chaos and 4) wool uniforms are not ideal attire for patrolling beaches in temperatures around 100. 
So after 4 days she was over it. She had spent Monday with Jackson getting sworn at, honked at and nearly run over as they directed traffic at the busiest beaches in the city. She spent Tuesday with Tim breaking up beach brawls, confiscating contributing alcohol and watching bikini clad woman flirt with Tim. At least 8 different woman had asked him to rub sunscreen on them or suggested he take off his shirt to cool down. She had rolled her eyes so much she had given herself a headache. Although it may have been the sun. Yesterday, her and Nolan and responded to a report of a missing child who was feared drowned or kidnapped but turned out had followed the music of an ice cream truck four blocks and was found, about 30 minutes after the officers arrived, happily eating a fudgiscle. However, they were kept at the beach for the remainder of their shift by various citizens with complaints ranging from seagulls, wasps and possible sharks to thieves, streakers and possible melanoma. 
Now her and Jackson were headed back to a beach where the adjacent shrubbery was currently being consumed by a blazing bush fire, which was in all likelihood human caused and spreading fast. Therefore all hands were on deck as the LAPD worked with the LAFD to keep civilians safe, extinguish the fire and investigate its cause.
The rest of her shift passed in a blur as they interviewed witnesses, cordoned off the area, issued evacuation orders, ensured those who needed it got medical attention, joined a production line passing large buckets of water from the ocean to where the fire was burning and debriefed with their team which included Nolan and Tim, and Lopez and Harper. Luckily in the end, the fire was successfully extinguished, those living nearby were safe and happily back in their homes and the perpetrator, a cigarette butt flicker, was caught. But not until nearly 11pm by which time the entire team was exhausted, scorching and covered in soot and ash. With their job done the team of 6 headed away from the scene back along the beach to where they had parked their shops. They were right on the sand where they left them to create a barrier preventing people from wandering toward the fire and the beach around them was abandoned. Likely due to a combination of the late hour, the fire itself and the fact that the stretch of beach they were on was only accessible by walking about a mile from one of the main beaches on either side or by scrambling down the steep cliff behind them.
“Anybody want a cold one,” Nolan asked when they reached the vehicles, “well a hot one I guess” he amended as he pulled out a six pack he had confiscated earlier in the day from the trunk of his shop. Everybody made a face at the offer of hot beer but since the only light around came from the shops headlights shining in the opposite direction Nolan didn’t see them.
“Screw it, I’ll take one,” Angela said.
“Wesley and Patrice took the baby to meet the extended Evers clan so I have nowhere to be and now that I’m no longer breastfeeding I can have whatever I want. Even if that’s gross beer that’s been sitting in a hot car all day,” she explained.
“If we dig a hole near the water line it will fill with cold seawater and we can make a makeshift beer fridge,” Jackson suggested but Angela had already opened her can and was sipping away.
“I’ll help dig the hole,” Nyla offered. “I’d rather hangout here then go back to the station to do paperwork and Lila’s with her dad so I also have no where I have to be.”
“I’ll call Grey and tell him we’re clocking out and will do the paperwork in the morning,” Tim offered.
“Your staying?” Lucy asked a little too excitedly, “what about Kojo?” she quickly added.
“Tamara called several hours ago and offered to give him dinner, take him for a walk and put him to bed.”“She saw the fire on the news and rightly assumed we’d have our hands full,” he finished.
30 minutes later they all sat in the sand around their makeshift beer fridge. Shoes, socks and button up shirts discarded and pants pulled up to their knees. 3 flashlights were in the middle of the group, pointing skyward, their handles buried in the sand. They laughed as they went around and told stories.
“How is it still this hot?” Lucy asked a while later.  It was after midnight and the temperature had yet to even consider dropping below 90. 
She pulled her white t-shirt away from her skin fanning, herself. 
“I’m going swimming,” she declared ready to stand up.
“Your going swimming? Right Now? In that?” Tim asked gesturing to her cotton tee and woolen pants.
Lucy shook her head. “I was just going to go in my underwear but now that I think about it I don’t really want to have to drive back to the station in soaking wet underwear.”
Tim nodded as if this is what he expected but Lucy didn’t see him and continued.
“I guess I’ll just skinny dip,” she concluded.
Tim managed to both spit out and choke on the sip of beer he had just taken.
Everybody else’s faces were turned towards Tim and wearing amused expressions but they were saved his annoyance due to the limited light and the fact that his attention was still fully on Lucy.
“What?” She asked Tim, “It’s not a big deal. It’s dark. Plus everybody here has already seen me naked.” 
“Well except you,” she added, which earned another spit take from Tim.
Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. She loved seeing Tim flustered, especially when it was her doing.
“What?” He finally managed to ask in a strained voice after a few harsh coughs to clear his throat.
“Everybody here’s seen Lucy naked but you,” Lopez offered, “although that was bound to change sometime soon,” she added.
Lucy and Tim both turned to look at her wide eyed. Nolan and Nyla were both hiding smirks and Jackson wore an expression of mainly panic as he spoke.
“She’s drunk. She has no idea what she’s saying,” Jackson offered before turning to look daggers at Angela and whisper something in her ear.
Lucy thought she heard the words bet, interference and disqualified but she couldn’t be sure.
When he finished Angela addressed them again. “Sorry, apparently my tolerance took a nose dive since pre-pregnancy. I didn’t mean anything by that I got you mixed up with Smitty and what’s her face,” she finished waving her hand disparagingly.
“Hmm,” Lucy said clearly not buying her lame excuse but Tim still had his mind on other things.
“Why has everybody else here seen you naked?” he asked, his tone almost suspicious.
Lucy laughed. “Are you jealous?”
He fixed her with his best TO look. “No.”
Lucy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes yet again and answered.
“Communal showers at work,” she began gesturing to Nyla and Angela. “Best friends and roommates” she added pointing to Jackson. “Life gets crazy. Sometimes closing doors or throwing on clothes just isn’t a priority,” she explained seeing Tim’s confused expression. “Also we had to help each other into and out of the bath after we were injured.” She didn’t have to specify her kidnapping or the beating Jackson took to take down Doug Stanton. This group knew. “It’s kind of ironic that when everything hurts all you want is a warm bath but when everything hurts it’s nearly impossible to get yourself into and out of a bathtub,” she finishes. “Oh and Nolan and I used to date.” She says it as almost an afterthought, super casual. But all the former TOs still look at her with shock.
“You and Nolan?” Nyla asks with a laugh. “Really?” “No offense,” she adds addressing Nolan.
“Ah, none taken?” Nolan replies, clearly confused by her reaction.
“When?” Lopez asks looking between the two P2s.
“For a couple months while we were in the academy. We called it off shortly after we started at Mid-Wilshire,” Nolan supplied.
“Wow, I just can’t picture it,” Angela continued shaking her head.
“Why would you want to picture it?” Tim spat. Then seemed to catch himself and schooled his scowl back into a blank expression.
“Why’d you call it off, anyway?” Angela asked. Half actually curious. Half just trying to do her friend a solid and take the attention off him.
“Bishop warned me that dating a fellow cop would brand me and could ruin my career,” Lucy answered and thought she saw Tim flinch. It was impossible to tell for sure with just the flashlights, nevertheless she added, “Somethings matter more-“ she was staring right at Tim now “-are worth the gossip, the assumptions, the risk.” As she said it she saw his expression change but she couldn’t read it. “But our relationship wasn’t one of those things. We’re better as friends, anyway,” she finished addressing the whole group but looking at Nolan specifically for confirmation.
“Agreed,” Nolan nodded holding up his beer.
“To friends,” Jackson said clicking his to Nolan’s.
“To friends,” everybody joined in clinking their cans together.
“So who’s coming skinny dipping with me?” Lucy asked as she started to make her way back to the vehicles where she could leave her clothes in a place where they’d stay sand free.
“I will,” said Angela, “pregnancy and caring for a baby really makes modesty go out the window. The two beers I’ve had don’t hurt either.” She began to follow Lucy to the cars.
“I’m in,” Jackson offered, “with you two practically glowing in the dark nobody will even notice me.” He teased as he got up to join them, earning a playful shove from Lucy.
“Nobody’s here to see anything anyway.” She retorted.
“Go ahead. I might join you later.” Nolan said and Nyla and Tim nodded in agreement.
10 minutes later. Lucy, Angela and Jackson’s clothes were inside Jackson and Lucy’s shop and they were out in the ocean. It dropped off quickly so they weren’t that far away from the beach even though the water came to just below Lucy’s shoulders. After four days of blazing heat and the fire on top today, the cool water felt like heaven to her. She dipped and dove through the water, relishing the cool and wiped at her face and hands to remove the soot that had coated them earlier. Beside her Angela was trying to show Jackson what her son does when they put him in the water. This led to reminiscing about childhood summers spent at the beach or in backyard and community pools. And before they knew it they were playing old games from those days. John and Nyla had joined them by this time. Claiming some combination of escaping the heat, joining the fun and more beer as the motivation. They were currently having breath holding contests.
“I win!” Jackson exclaimed as he came up for air to find everyone else already up.
“You cheated,” Lucy argued, “I saw you come up while I was still under. I had my eyes open.”
“I did not. Plus it’s pitch black under there you couldn’t possibly have seen anything.”
“Did Jackson come up?” Lucy yelled at Tim who was still sitting on the shore.
“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching,” he replied casually with a slight shrug.
“Yes you were,” Angela argued, “you haven’t taken your eyes off Lucy since she got in here,” then realizing what she said she quickly ducked back under the water. 
Everybody still above the surface froze.
Then after a beat. “So did he come up or not. I need to know if I won,” Nyla asked, all business.
“He floated to the surface but didn’t lift his head up. He won,” Tim offered defeatedly.
“Told you!” Jackson bragged.
“Rematch. 3,2,1 go,” shouted Nyla as everybody ducked back under the water. Lucy a split second behind everybody else as her attention was still on Tim. 
She came up about 30 seconds later just as a wave was passing by her and managed to swallow a good serving of water. She coughed and sputtered but before she knew it Jackson and Nolan were beside her and she was assuring them she was Ok just needed a bit of time to catch her breath. As she swam towards the shore to rest in the shallows she noticed Tim was just sitting back down and his pants were wet to just above the knee. But she didn’t let herself focus on it.
She swam to just in front of where he sat laying on her stomach on the ocean floor, head just above the water.
“You OK?” He asked shifting his eyes to her for the first time since she swam up.
“Ya fine, just swallowed a little water,” she assured him.
“Looks like you guys are having fun out there,” he nodded indicating the group still farther out.
“Ya the water feels amazing. You can’t honestly tell me that you aren’t hot.” She had meant it literally. He was sitting in above 90 degree weather with wool pants on. But then she realized he had taken off his white shirt and his muscled chest and stomach were currently on full display and the word took on an entirely different meaning. She was thankful for the darkness as it hid her blush but even that couldn’t hide the fact that she was definitely staring. 
“The ladies on the beach the other day will be so disappointed they’re missing this,” she teased gesturing to his bare upper half, hoping to give a probable explanation for the staring.
He gave a short laugh. “Not as disappointed as the meat bags who were wolf whistling at you will be that they’re missing that.” As he gestured at her he finally let himself actually take her in. Her hair was still up in its low work bun leaving her entire back exposed. The upper half of which was completely taken up by a tattoo, he had never seen before, although the light was too limited for him to make out the design. The rest of her body was hidden in shadows except her face which was now free of soot and make-up making her look young and vulnerable. Freckles brought out by the last few days of blazing sun were speckled across the bridge of her nose. Her mouth was twisted in thought and her eyes sparkled in the light of the flashlights. She really was beautiful.
While those thoughts flew through Tim’s mind Lucy was thinking about his comment about the wolf whistlers. That had happened at the very start of their shift and lasted no more than two seconds. Lucy wasn’t even sure they had been whistling at her and she had completely forgotten about it until Tim brought it up just now. Funny that he would remember. 
 They were both pulled out of their thoughts by a sudden commotion further out in the water:
“DID YOU NOT THERE IS NO PIE!”
“DO NOT THERE IS NO DIE!”
“DO OR DO NOT THERE IS NO TRY!”
Were being yelled over each other.
“What are they doing?” Tim asked looking at the group out in the water.
They were in a circle. Jackson had just given Nolan a high five then they were under again.
“I think they are playing the guess what I said under the water game,” Lucy chuckled.
Tim was about to reply but he was cut off by “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood” being shouted in unison followed by bickering about who said it first.
“I’m going back out to join them. You going to come?” Lucy asked turning her attention from the group back to Tim.
“I don’t need to be a part of that.”
“Come on Tim. You’re hot and dirty.” She still meant it literally. Really. He was covered in soot. Stupid double entendres.
He raised is eyebrows.
“Just get in the water,” Lucy said splashing water at him to vent her frustration with how flustered she was getting.
He wiped the water from his face and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Fine.”
Lucy beamed back at him as he stood up and walked back to the shop to discard his remaining clothes then turned her attention back to her friends.
“It’s not Angeles Direct, you’ve already guessed that three times,” Nyla was saying to Jackson
“That’s what it sounds like,” he argued “and it’s definitely closer to that than ‘embroidery period.’”
“That was my first guess. I heard wrong,” Nyla shot back.
“Oh ya cuz ‘and was dressed’ and ‘indoors divest’ were so much closer.”
Any further argument was cut-off by Nolan. “I’ve got it: Angela’s the best,” he said confidently.
“Yes and yes,” Angela confirmed.
“Your turn Nyla.” 
There was a brief silence as they all went back under the water followed by a flurry of screamed “this is stupid.”
“Happy now?” Came a quieter voice beside her and Lucy nearly jumped out of the water. She had been so wrapped up watching her friends she hadn’t even noticed that Tim had made his way back down the beach and was now sitting beside her in the water.
She smiled and nodded. “Aren’t you?”
He gave a non-committal shrug. “We’ll see after I get roped into whatever’s going on out there,” he offered but there was no bite to it. He was even smiling, although mostly with his eyes, as he looked at their friends.
“Well let’s go find out,” Lucy replied as she led the way into the deeper water.
As they approached the group they watched them go up and down and listened to their guesses.
“And further than game”
“Comforters at game”
“Temperatures endgame”
“Stanford is endgame”
“Checkers is a game.” “At least that’s a real sentence”
“Bradford has game?” “That can’t be right he most definitely doesn’t”
Then just as Tim and Lucy joined the group “Chenford is endgame!” Shouted by Angela who upon realizing Tim and Lucy had joined them turned to Jackson.
“This ones not on me it was your sentence.”
Jackson stood stunned for a second looking desperately between Tim, Lucy and Angela then swiftly closed his eyes and yelled “MARCO.”
There was a brief silence then Nolan yelled “POLO” and everyone was swimming away from Jackson at top speed. Everyone except Tim who was giving Lucy a look that said. “See what you got me into? I told you so.” 
But she was busy swimming off with the others, grateful for the distraction. So he rolled his eyes and joined the game. The water did feel amazing although he wasn’t about to admit that to her.
Calls of MARCO POLO and laughter filled the air as everybody took their turn being it: Jackson tagged Nolan who tagged Lucy who tagged Nyla who tagged Jackson who tagged Tim who tagged Nolan who tagged Angela who tagged Jackson who tagged Tim who tagged Lucy. Well he meant to tag Lucy. He reached his arm out and jumped towards her “POLO” but she was closer than he thought and instead of the tips of his finger tagging her shoulder he jumped right into her. He hit her hard and she responded to being knocked off her feet and down into the water instinctively by reaching for the nearest thing to prevent drowning, which happened to be him. So when he opened his eyes her arms were around his neck and her legs around his hips and her face was only about an inch from his own as she coughed up water for the second time that day.
“Are you ok?” He asked moving a piece of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear.
She nodded but continued to cough as he absentmindedly stroked her back.
 “You caught me by surprise,” she breathed “I didn’t know we were playing full contact Marco Polo.”
He let out a relieved laugh, “I’m sorry.”
“A real Tim Bradford apology I never thought I’d see it in person,” Lucy teased earning an eye roll from Tim. This close Lucy could see all the different shades of blue in his eyes even in the dark. 
“It was an accident.”
“So it wasn’t some sort of Tim Test to see how I would handle a fight in the water?”
“No. You got your last Tim test a year ago when you stopped being my rookie.”
“I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” she said. “Then again we’ve been through enough for an entire career,” she added as her hand reflexively moved from his neck where it was playing with his hair to the tattoo on her her ribs.
That’s when it dawned on her just how close her and Tim were, pressed together without a shred of clothing between them. She had felt so comfortable and content she hadn’t realized the gravity of the situation and what it could lead to. She was about to put some space between them when his hand covered hers over the tattoo marking her supposed day of death. The day he saved her from being buried alive. Although he would say it marked the first day of the rest of her life. The day she saved herself. 
And the desire to move away died in an instant. 
“I kept it,” she said quietly, “because of what you said.” “Because it’s a reminder that I’m a survivor. And that my team will always have my back.”
Tim was looking at her with an expression more open than she’d ever seen. “I have one of those,” he replied softly lifting her hand up and moving it to rest on his lower left abdomen. She was confused at first but as she felt the skin beneath her finger tips she realized it was scarred. The scar from when he was shot on her second day and she pulled him out of the line of gunfire.
She smiled and looked directly into his eyes. 
“It’s a good thing we have each other in our lives,”
“Sure is,”
She was just about to lean in and close the distance between them when a voice interrupted.
“Hey you two. Keep it PG or get a room. This is a family outing.” It was Nyla.
Lucy laughed as she untangled her self from Tim and in that moment she realized two things. 1) this was most definitely her family and 2) she would very happily come back to the beach. Maybe next time she’d just bring Tim, maybe even as her boyfriend.
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