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dabisqueen · 2 years ago

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Without Consent

Permission to use the art granted by the artist. Please refrain from using the art without permission. Shar's too cute of a button to deal with that.

Dabi x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: roughly 2.3K

⇢ plot: you (more or less) accidentally bump into Dabi and are in for a big surprise

⇢this is kind of the SFW version. I still recommend NOT reading it with others around, especially not your boss hehe

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, Dabi being the flirty tease we all love, (somewhat) consensual restraining of the reader, steamy makeout session (ok ok, mostly just kissing) but also some dry-humping resulting in a wet spot on Dabi's pants—oops!

⇢ personal note: I've always wanted to write something inspired by @sharlockart ´s art. I got her permission to go ahead and booooooom! Here we are! Thanks to @blankexpressions-and-falsefires for being my beta this time. You're the best!

It was then that you felt it. The lingering feeling of someone watching you. You looked up to find two incredibly piercing azure irises pointed sharply at you.

Shit.

The bright blue of his eyes turned dark as he continued to side-eye you with an unmoving expression. Your face went ablaze and you instantly dropped your gaze, shoving your phone with trembling hands back in the pocket of your jacket. Cursing inwardly a few times for having been caught staring, you hastily turned to make your way through the crowd across the intersection. You took a peek over your shoulder, a wave of relief washing over you when you didn't see him among the people behind you.

By "him" you meant one of the most dangerous villains in the country, Dabi.

You would have recognized him anywhere– the usual bored expression on his face, that all too familiar messy raven hair with bangs falling over his brows. The mauve scarred skin—

—and the piercing blue eyes.

It still sent chills up your spine recalling the moment they met yours. He had stood there, one hand holding a cigarette, the other a phone to his ear while he talked to someone. The way his black pants clung to his thighs way too alluringly, his beige sweater and a black leather jacket complementing his features even more.

And even though a warm, comforting fuzziness still clouded your head after that short encounter, you started to regret having visited this part of town which was known to be the home of some sketchy outcasts and– villains.

You'd always been fascinated by the less than savory figures— not the overhyped heroes of your hometown. It's been a hobby of yours to study them, especially the members of the League of Villains. And your particular obsession had been with Dabi.

You had been spending your afternoons after college strolling around those areas in hopes of finally meeting him, finally being able to snap a picture of him.

And this time you did—

—and weren't at all prepared for your reaction. The instant jolt of fire coursing through your veins as soon as your eyes met his. The feeling of wanting to lose yourself in their depths. Endorphins rushing through your system, triggering a blistering heat in your core and making your panties stick to you in ways they usually only did during late night hours, with your hands down your panties while thinking of him.

Again—shit.

With your emotions all stirred up and still unable to focus, you had taken a wrong turn. The next bus stop being several blocks away meant you just had to keep walking, your eyes squinting as light became increasingly sparse. It was getting darker outside, the sun slowly setting behind the concrete mass of the city, the long shadows of the tall buildings slowly caging you in. Dainty street lamps sparingly lined the streets, their thin yellow rays fighting to reach the ground, failing to penetrate the overwhelming darkness.

A musty breeze was blowing, sending leaves and pieces of garbage dancing noisily across the cracked concrete floor. The sky was painted in hues from flame to azure, yet here in the depths of the street between the buildings you didn't see much, only growing shadows creeping in on you.

The breeze picked up and you shivered, regretting your choice to only wear a loose sweat-dress and a pair of thin, skin-colored tights. You pulled up the zipper of your cropped jacket, and sighed, hoping that you would soon get to a bus stop.

A loud ping startled you out of your train of thought, your phone vibrating urgently. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest as you stopped in your tracks, sliding your hand in your pocket to retrieve it.

The display shone bright in the dim light of the street alley as you unlocked the screen with a swipe. A message popped up—your friend.

Where are you, expecting you to be home by now.

You groaned, thinking back on how you wouldn't have had to walk home if it weren't for the distracting encounter with that devious blue-eyed villain earlier on.

"That damn bastard—" You started.

A voice suddenly spoke close by. “I hope you're not talking about me.”

A large hand appeared out of the darkness from beside you, wrapping around both of your wrists and gripping them tightly, causing your phone to slip from your grip. A weak whimper fell from your lips, while it was caught mid air by another purple scarred hand, the dim light of the far away street lamp reflecting weakly in the silver staples adorning it.

Your body froze as you were shoved against the wall, hands being jerked up and pinned over your head against the rough bricks to hold you in place. Your breath hitched as you elevated your face, your gaze instantly locking with a pair of icy blue eyes boring into you.

Dabi.

He casually glanced at the unlocked screen of your phone, scrolling through your chat. Slipping the phone into his own pocket, his gaze drifted back up, lazy blue eyes flicking up to yours.

"So, you're taking pictures of me without my consent?" he tipped his head, an eyebrow cocked.

You let out a little breathy moan, squirming in his hold, surprised at how thrilling it felt to be manhandled like this.

"At least you think I look fine. That earns you bonus points." His lips curled up into a devilish smirk.

"Sir, you don't want to do this!" you swallowed nervously, his intimidating aura making you squirm. "Just please, let me go."

"C'mon, doll." He chuckled darkly, "You know my name. Use it."

"D-Dabi—" it came out as a mere whimper. "Please, I need to get home."

"God, my name sounds so fucking hot on your tongue." He cooed, his voice deep and husky, enough for your heartbeat to quicken.

Up close, he was even more attractive than you came to learn from the blurred images you've seen online or in the news. His scent was overwhelming, a mixture of warm skin and smoke. It had an effect on you unlike anything you've ever experienced. Your nerves were on fire, the heat between your legs blistering as you clenched your thighs together.

Dabi seemed to notice, because his smirk grew wider as he closed the gap between you. The staples on his face scraped along your cheek as his lips brushed your earlobe and your body felt hot all of a sudden.

"But still– maybe I should do something to you without your consent?" His low, sultry voice being so close sent instant shivers up your spine. "What do you think, doll– you gonna be a good girl for me?"

It was like your body reacted on its own, as you slowly nodded, making him chuckle against your ear. It was enough to make your stomach somersault while you felt his mismatched lips brush back over your cheekbones, leaving a trail of nibbles here and there, making you gasp with the forbidden pleasure. You could feel him grinning against your skin at your reaction as he slowly made his way toward your lips.

You had forgotten how to speak– how to move. When his lips brushed the corner of your lips, a scorching heat shot right through your body, clouding your mind with indecent thoughts. Without thinking, you parted your lips in anticipation.

A pleased sound rumbled deep in Dabi's chest. But he simply paused there, just breathing against the corner of your lips. It was torture and he was obviously greatly enjoying your reaction as you felt him smirk again.

Suddenly, he straightened up, eagerly taking you in with smoldering turquoise eyes.

"You're cute." You heard him say under his breath as he kept taking you in, tracing his long finger along the line of your cheek.

You were biting your lower lip, unsure where to look, too distracted by your body slowly burning up. With him still holding you in place by your wrists, you watched his free hand retrieve your phone from his pocket. Swiping across the dark screen it came to life, instantly unlocking.

"Pfft, how naive," he noted, laughing under his breath. "Not using a password…"

Oh shit, you berated yourself for always forgetting to set one up.

His thumb flew over the display and when he was done, he looked up at you, and with a wide grin he slipped your phone back into the pocket of your jacket.

He adjusted his grip on your wrists, keeping you in place as he leaned in. You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loudly against your chest.

"Unfortunately, this is where we have to part, doll." His free hand started playing with loose strands of your hair. "But I think you still owe me an apology."

Your eyes flicked to his lips and back but it was too late. His mouth curled suspiciously at the corner, having caught your wandering gaze.

"I think you know what I mean—" He tilted his head, his eyes slowly dropping down to your mouth.

He trapped your chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling your face up and closer. As he angled his mouth above yours, you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips, and instinctively your eyelids fluttered shut.

Time seemed to stand still at his close proximity; the warmth of his body against yours and his breath on your lips became your entire existence. You couldn’t even think, let alone move. You were completely at his mercy.

“Just like that…” you heard him whisper before he eased his lips over yours.

It struck you like lightning when you found his tongue slipping inside to explore your mouth. Your mind short-circuited as he sensually worked your mouths together giving you ample time to catch up and start to kiss back eagerly. He was the best thing you've ever tasted, and the scent of his smoky, warm skin drugged your senses. You let yourself fall into his kiss, his hand sliding behind your neck to pull you deeper into it.

His mouth was so hot on yours, leaving you lightheaded and with buckling knees. You would’ve sunk to the ground already if it wasn't for his tight grip on your wrists.

As if he knew, his thigh pried open your legs and slipped between them, pinning you in place. You gasped into his mouth, goosebumps exploding all over your body.

There was so much heat between your legs, your panties were soaked and the thin fabric of your tights didn't do anything to hide it from him.

You were starting to lose your mind as you continued to kiss, his thigh pressing right against your dripping core. You needed more, more of him down there. So without thinking, you started grinding down on his leg, the rough fabric of his jeans grazing against you, giving you ample friction to satisfy your growing need. Back and forth, you worked your hips until you were a trembling mess in his hold. You were so close to feeling the tension release, your body was ready to explode with pleasure.

Suddenly, he pulled away from you a little, groaning deeply– his eyes, dark and hooded with lust, boring into yours.

“So innocent,” he hummed appreciatively. “But such a big tease."

He straightened back up, sliding his thigh out from between yours. A strained whimper broke free from your lips at the loss of pressure. Releasing you from his hold, your arms dropped uselessly to your side. You started soothing the fresh ache by massaging your slowly bruising skin. Your eyes, following his thigh after it left you wanting, noticed a damp spot on his pants where you had ground against it. A blazing heat bloomed in your cheeks, your gaze dropping down onto the mucky ground.

"That was fun." He said, followed by a short chuckle as he stepped back.

You looked up at him from under your lashes, still too embarrassed to look him straight in the face.

"But– gotta go." And with that he adjusted the bag around his shoulder and strutted off. "See ya, doll—"

He stopped to shoot you a glance over his shoulder. His deep turquoise eyes met yours, lingering on you for a few moments before he took another step and was swallowed up by the darkness.

The moment he was gone had you hyperventilating, toppling against the scratchy brick wall for any sense of stability. Your palm clasped your chest as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

What the hell just happened?!?!

It was then that your phone vibrated, a text tone alerting you of a new message. With trembling fingers you pulled it from your pocket to see a message from an unknown number.

Holy shit…

To be continued...

#dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi #dabi fluff #mha touya #todoroki touya #touya smut #touya todoroki #bnha touya #touya x you #mha smut #bnha smut

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steddiebang · 1 year ago

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death. (pull up to the second window, please)

Author: @acidicbarkbeast l Artist: @kaspurrcat l Artist: @astradews Posting on Saturday, November 25

The fight has been won, and the war is over, but not without its casualties. While Eddie wakes from his coma, he is devastated to find that Steve has, inexplicably, not been so lucky. With doctors at a loss, El recruits Eddie, Robin, and Dustin, to delve into Steve’s sleeping mind, and find what has its claws sunk into their friend and babysitter. What they discover is the bloody mess of Steve’s various past lives— and deaths. The group must not only find the real Steve, but also convince him of his reality; one where Vecna is dead, and where they can finally have some peace.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

CW; implied suicide, mentions of injury, mentions of death

“Someone’s here already.” Dustin said, pointing. At the shoreline, there was the silhouette of a fellow sitting on a rock, though the dying sun cast them in shadow, “You didn’t accidentally bring anyone else in, did you? I mean, could you?”

El shook her head, eyeing the back of the stranger curiously.

“Do you think it’s some malicious entity?” Robin asked, holding onto Eddie’s arm, “Like an evil spirit? Maybe Steve’s being haunted.”

“No.” The girl tilted her head, calculating. She crept slowly toward the still figure, and the others seemed to hold their breath in anticipation. A few steps behind, they trailed her, shoes rolling over rocks and small pebbles. The person didn’t react to their presence at all, as much as they were making their presence known.

From his distance, Eddie could tell they were wet, as if having been in the water, though they sat perfectly still now. It was only a bit disconcerting, but where supergirls walked, he would trust to follow.

“Steve?” El asked, and all but the boy in question perked up at the name.

Everything clicked suddenly; those broad shoulders, the rumpled camo jacket, the burning red of a dirtied scar looping around his neck. His hair, usually well-tousled and gravity-defying, was flat and plastered to his forehead. He didn’t move.

Eddie looked past an unresponsive Steve, out over the quarry. In the distant middle of the water, protruded some metal arm, and from that, bellowed mouthfuls of opaque exhaust. The smokey plume rose till it dissipated clear into the painted clouds. Eddie could smell it; long put-out, burning fuel. What had happened here?

“Steve.” Dustin tried, and then Robin too. There was another bloated moment of worrying silence, until Steve breathed a quiet sigh, and seemed to come back into himself, like a spirit possessing a body. Still, he said nothing. Eddie walked around the group, placing himself between the water’s bank and Steve’s empty gaze.

“Harrington?” He prompted, and Steve’s wide eyes snapped to him, bright and yet not, like weak sunlight through morning fog.

Eddie inhaled sharply at the fragile state of the younger, cracked like dropped porcelain. One side of his face was bruised a sickly myriad of blues and lilacs, dark splotches where the vessels beneath had burst. A belt of shining stars, pin-pricks of sharded glass, had embedded themselves into the damaged skin, where thin trails of blood trickled down Steve’s jaw and dripped onto his clothes.

“Eddie…?” Steve wondered, squinting as much as he was able. A spider web of blown veins washed the eye on his bad side a pale red, lids puffy and purple. That eye was duller than the other, half-way swollen, and seemed to track him lazily. He chuckled airily, “I must really be losing it.”

“‘Evie?” Robin pleaded, a wobble to her voice, “What happened?”

Looking down at his hands, Steve’s fingers spasmed. He clenched them into trembling fists, and instinctively began running his thumbs over his smallest knuckles. Still looking away, only mildly delirious, he mumbled, “I thought it would work. I thought it would hold— It was supposed to.” He shook his head forcefully, “I had no choice. ‘Always the idiot.”

Eddie took the liberty to walk to his other side, where he could closer see the punch of dried blood matted into his hair. He couldn’t make any sense of things. Why were they at the quarry of all places? Why was Steve all beat up? Did he get into an accident?

El stepped forward, frame strong and face unmoored. It wasn’t out of stoicness, but of compassioned knowing, understanding that the sooner they completed their duty, the sooner they could comfort Steve in the waking world. She said, “We are here to save you. You are dreaming. You need to come with us, and wake up.”

He turned to her fully, raising his head from his slumped shoulders. The setting sun sparkled across the beads of glass knitted into his cheek. It was almost ethereal, “Dreaming…?” He breathed, looking sad, “I can’t wake up. I’m dead.”

Other Stories

Day 6-Special Letter

Summons

Gordon, Northern, and Scotsman met at Cronk station near midnight as the letters had asked. "Why do you think Caomhnóir called us here brother?" Northern asked. Her newly restored LNER Blue paint shone in the yard lights.

"And why by letter?" Scotsman asked.

"I don't know," Gordon said. "He normally would have asked for us in person. I wanted to introduce him to both of you."

"Because you three draw too much attention as is."

The three large pacifics all jumped as the tank engine suddenly spoke. Thomas rolled out of a shadowed siding, he appeared to be covered in soot, black from footplate to funnel.

"What happened to you?" Northern asked in concern.

The tank engine chuckled, "Nothing that won't wash off later. It's almost too easy to sneak away when everyone is looking for a blue tank engine." He smiled at the three lner engines, "It is good to finally meet you Northern, and good to see you again as well Scotsman."

"So you are here as Caomhnóir, then," Gordon said once they had returned the tank engine's greetings.

Thomas shifted anxiously, "Yes, but not in the way you're used to." He hesitated, "Now that British Railways is letting up the search for engines, it's time I let others know about some of the engines I've hidden. That way if any were to happen to me..."

"They wouldn't be lost," Scotsman finished quietly.

"Yes." Caomhnóir sagged and for a moment his true exhaustion shone through, "I have no idea if this is the right decision...but I can't keep putting it off."

"Are you alright?" Gordon asked concernedly.

The tank engine gave a mirthless chuckle, "It's been a long few years." He glanced nervously up at the blue engine, "please don't hate me?"

Gordon frowned in confusion, "I can honestly say I can think of nothing you can reveal to us to make me hate you. You have always done your best Caomhnóir."

He suddenly chuckled, "If we made it through the twenties as friends, I highly doubt anything you have done will phase me. United we stand

..."

"...Together we fall." Thomas finished, smiling softly. "Alright then, if you will follow me, we're heading up to a private estate on the Peel Godred branch. It has rail access to help with the orchid's harvest."

"Can the rails hold us?" Northern asked dubiously, "We weigh significantly more than you."

Thomas smirked in a way that Gordon knew meant a trick was coming, "I have it on good authority they'll be able to hold you three. Now come on, the 70s can only distract everyone so long."

The three express engines trailed behind the little tank engine up the electric line, in the distance Gordon could see the three class 70 electrics at the station, doubtlessly creating the distraction Thomas had mentioned.

Gordon had only rarely traveled up the electric line, so he was unsurprised when he didn't recognize the junction to the estate. The tracks disappeared through a massive wrought iron gate. Thomas gave three short bursts of his whistle, and the gate cracked open. A teen shot through the gap, hugging Thomas's buffers.

"Caomhnóir!"

The tank engine chuckled warmly, "And a good night to you as well Rhyddid."

The girl huffed good-naturedly, "I've told you not to call me that."

The girls suddenly froze at the sight of the trio behind Thomas.

She turned pleading eyes on Thomas, "Does this mean..." She began hesitantly.

"Yes. It's time they know."

"YES!" The girl whooped, quickly dashing to open the gates. Thomas puffed through, pausing long enough for Rhyddid to climb up on his buffer beam.

The three siblings followed the pair into the estate, the teen, who asked to be called Rhy, happily chatting the whole time. They finally reached a set of sidings where the orchid's produce would be loaded, allowing the three engines to line up alongside each other as Thomas pulled up to a shed at the end of the sidings.

"Hey, Sis!" Rhy called as she unlocked a door and entered the shed, "you have visitors."

Gordon could make out the sounds of a discussion within, but it was covered by the sound of the shed doors swinging open.

The inside of the shed was dark, but Gordon could make out a large shape within, almost as large as his own. Rhy stepped over to a light switch, stopping to smirk at them before she flipped it, "Surprise."

The lights flicked on to reveal a large green engine. It had four smaller wheels in front, six 6'8" driving wheels in the middle, a pair of smaller wheels supporting her firebox and cab, and a large taper boiler. She was missing her tender, but her identity was unmistakable.

LNER A3 No.4480 Enterprise smiled nervously. "He..."

Northern surged forward to crash her buffers against their little sisters as Scotsman's and Gordon's jubilant whistles rang out through the night.

It was far later in the night when Gordon finally forced his eyes away from the impossible sight of Enterprise, intact and alive. Thomas and Rhy were quietly chatting to give the siblings a semblance of privacy.

Noticing the attention, Thomas nervously spoke, "Gordon, sorry I didn't tell..."

Gordon rolled up and gently pressed his buffers against Thomas's.

"Thank you," Gordon said hoarsely. "However you managed it, however long you had to hide it, thank you."

Thomas frowned, "Gordon, I let you and Scotsman think you were the only ones left."

"To save me." Enterprise spoke up. She glanced towards Scotsman, "He wanted to reveal me when you first visited, but it was the worst of the end at that time, and the other railway was already sniffing around this line."

She looked over to Gordon, "Your red friend found me on the mainland back in 62, said he couldn't let a chance to get one over on you go."

Thomas snorted, "James dodged eight patrols to get her back. If he was that dedicated to getting one over on you he would have done so by now."

Enterprise laughed, a bell-like sound that threatened to have Gordon begin crying again.

"Caomhnóir met us at your terminus and brought me here. Mrs. Rachel and Beth wanted to preserve a steam engine so Rhyddid could grow up like they did. They had a shed built and sent word to Caomhnóir that they were ready when he found an engine in need."

She smiled at Northern, "You won't have to keep these two in line much longer, they have been working on obtaining proper paperwork for me. They hope within a few years I'll be able to receive an overhaul and join you on the North Western."

"I'm going to be her driver." Rhy stated, "I can apply to the North Western next year, and I should be able to reach the position of driver by the time she's overhauled."

Gordon smiled, "I would be happy to have you train with my crew. The experience would see you ready in time."

"I would be happy to have you as well," Northern agreed.

It would be far later in the morning when the three pacifics followed Thomas back to the mainline, more tired than when they had arrived, but far, far happier.

#ttte fanfic #rws fanfic #fanfic #Prompt-Special Letter #Traintober #Traintober23 #Traintober 2023 #ttte thomas #TTTE Gordon #ttte flying scotsman #ttte Great Northern #ttte Enterprise

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waiting-on-a-dream · 1 year ago

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Prisoner 001: Kanai Ichiro - Trial 2

General info

Verdict: GUILTY

Physical changes: His bangs are longer, completely covering his left eye. He's developed an unhealthy coping mechanism of hurting his face (scratching, poking, and/or slamming into things) which lead to wounds that need to be bandaged. His uniform reminds mostly the same, just with longer restraints that swing with each movement.

Behavioral changes: He's been more out of it ever since he found out about his verdict, being less responsive and spacing out for longer periods of time. Haruto took his stuffed koala away, so he can be found mumbling to himself more often. He frequently tries to grab Haruto and beg to have Keiko back, but the guard's force field activates every time, sending him flying back.

His temper has worsened and he's always in a bad mood nowadays. Tantrums quickly develop into full blown meltdowns. He has to be calmed down delicately and only by certain people. Daisuke once grabbed his arms to stop him from clawing at his face and he kicked at the man's shin in retaliation. Kiyoshi had to pull them apart.

His art supplies have been taken away so he can't even draw anymore. He spends most of his time sleeping or mumbling to himself. Most of his meals go untouched. He's been hearing more voices than usual, saying such horrible things. it hurts.

Trailer art: His body is angled directly at you, hands clasped around his sides in a sort of defensive hug. His head hangs low, slightly tilted to the right, a sullen and tired expression on his face. His right cheek is bandaged. Behind him, there's a wooden door painted grey, slightly ajar. Its a normal door you'd be able to find at any apartment.

Voicelines

– Second trial trailer

Give him back...

– Character voice trailer

Dinner has gone cold... Can you help me heat it up please?

Cover info

Canon Milgram song cover: All-knowing and all-agony (Once a Haruka kinnie, always a Haruka kinnie. If Haruka's story remains consistent for the third trial, Ichiro would probably cover his song as well. Its impressive actually.)

DECO*27 song cover: Re:[repaint] (The melody reminds me of raindrops falling onto a puddle for some reason. Its a short song, but packs some philosophical lyrics well suited for Ichiro here. The art is so Ichirocore too.)

Non-DECO*27 vocaloid song cover: Hitorinbo envy (I think the art and music styles of this song really suit Ichiro. The themes of loneliness and dreaming of a better reality certainly resonates with him too.)

Music info

Song title: Love and sorrow

Song preview: One night I submerged myself completely in the bathtub. The water was warm and inviting. For a moment, I was wrapped tightly in the embrace of "ai".

I want to be included, I want to be part of the family. Look at me, hug me, play with me. I'm begging you! I'm still here, I've always been here. Don't I deserve to be loved even though I'm guilty?

MV description: This MV retains the same crayon drawing style from the first MV, along with some frames being pastel and bright while others being shadowed and dull. Yellow, blue, and white turn up a lot.

The MV starts with Ichiro's mom smiling while holding a baby in her arms. The man from the previous MV stands behind her, a hand around her shoulder. The camera slowly pans out. In the light of the white background, they're the picture of a perfect happy family.

The camera cuts to a younger Ichiro (around 12 years old) sitting at the top of a slide. An empty playground. The setting sun casts a purple shadow over the equipment. Ichiro continues to play. On the swings, on the monkey bars. He plucks some nearby weeds to make a bouquet. Its nighttime already. The frame is washed with blue.

Then he's having dinner with his mom and the man. The colours of this frame are back to pastels with a yellowish glow. They sit around a table, eating a meal of katsu curry rice. They're smiling.

The camera cuts to Ichiro soaking in a bathtub. The bathroom is mostly white and grey with blue outlines to differentiate things from each other. A close-up of his face. He takes a breath and sinks completely into the water. He blows out bubbles that rise up to the surface, increasing in number until his face is obscured.

The camera cuts again to the POV of someone (presumably Ichiro) opening the front door to a house. A framed photo is displayed on the nearby cupboard: A young Ichiro, his mom and the man all huddled together with awkward smiles. There are also drawings, Mother's day cards and other knickknacks. Ichiro's mom appears with a smile, reaching out to pat at the person's head. The man is further away, hanging up his coat. Black crayon swirls appear over the man's face, and then Ichiro's mom before it takes over the whole frame. End.

Author's notes

The canon Milgram song previews for trial 2 only have 2-3 lines but we don't do that here, haha. There's no way I'm writing lyrics for a full song so a longer preview will have to do.

Haruka and Yuno both reference their thoughts on their verdicts in their songs, so I'm going to do the same for Ichiro and Akane.

Picrews used: - https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1969833 - https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/1820833

#the prisoners' second signature colour will be revealed in t2!#you guys are gonna be seeing a lot of blue haha #his trailer art is most similar to mahiru's!#prisoner 001: kanai ichiro

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wpdarlingpan · 3 years ago

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Hey I just read the yandere Jason's todd and I was thinking about how you said Dami was still looking for his darling/soulmate. What if yan damian found his darling at his Schools art room and she has a service dog? Like she loves painting and I saw on TikTok that a dog can paint to so there is a little set up for her dog and another for her. Can I request a story about this? Hope you are having a good day/night!

Thank you so much for this request! I love the idea.

Y/N= Your Name

Y/L/N= Your Last Name

Y/E/C= your eye color

Warning: Major Fluff

~*~

Damian Wayne had been stopped after school but a group of squealing girls he had not interest in talking to. They all wanted the same thing, his last name and his money. They didn’t understand he had no interest in any of them.

“Damian! want to go get ice cream with me?”

“Damian! will you help me study for the math test?”

“Damian! Will you be my boyfriend?”

All he heard was them just shouting his name, if those insufferable people wanted to talk so badly why couldn’t they even just talk like normal people? But he had to admit even then he wouldn’t give them the time of day. But he knew with his name he had to seem polite even if he wanted to run away, so he decided to combine the two.

“Sorry, I must go. I need to go get something from one of the classrooms.”

A chorus of shouts started up again with every one of them saying they would go with him.

“Alone.” He stressed before quickly walked or more so ran back inside the school building. He heard them rush after him so he quickly darted into the nearest classroom and shut the door behind him, which happened to be the art room.Damian had his back to the door and he heard the footsteps rush past the door in search of him.

“Hello?” He heard, at first he was worried it was another fan girl that one bombard him but when he looked up and stared into beautiful Y/E/C eyes, it felt as if time had stopped. He admired the girl who was standing in front of an easel in the center of the room. She had on a white shirt with denim overall and a pair of converse. But she was covered in paint, blue in her hair, white on her hands, even more colors covered her legs, shoes, face, pants, and even her white shirt.

After he gained some awareness of how it would come across as creepy if he kept staring he looked down to the smaller easel that was on the floor next to her and saw an adorable dog with their own painting in front of them. There was a plastic sheet on the floor so they didn’t get paw prints all over the floor as their paws were covered in purple paint.

“Hello?” The girl questioned again before he looked back up at her and he finally moved from the door, closer to the girl.

“Hi, sorry to barge in like that.” Damian apologized in a apologetic manner.

“Oh! No worries. It just startled me a bit but then I heard all the foot steps pass the door, too which I assume you were running from people.” She spoke very analytically. Damian feel even more in love. She had a dog, she wasn’t squealing, she was very aware, and she was also very adorable as he saw the paint on her.

“You are very clever.” He replied smoothly making her blush to which Damian smirked.

“Thank you.” She spoke shyly. Damian could tell she was rather anxious so he kept talking to try and ease her nerves. Damian knew he wanted her to be his soulmate as the other bats. But he preferred the term beloved.

“May i see your paintings?”

“Sure.” She spoke nervously. Y/N wasn’t too confident as a person do showing her art to someone was very nerves racking, that was why she was there after school so she could finish her painting and not worry about the people around her, also because her teacher said she could try and see if her dog could paint like she saw others do on Tik tok.

Damian walked over to the girl and he dog and stood rather close to her, looking at the painting quite closely as to have ma excuse to stand next to her.

He looked at the painting and saw a silhouette of Gotham at night, he knew this because there was a image of the bat signal painted towards the night sky.

“This is amazing.” Damian complimented making her blush. She really wasn’t blushing because it was Damian Wayne making the comments but just because someone was making the comments in the first place. Damian then crouched down on the side closest to the dog and let the dog sniff his hand before he pet them while he looked at the dogs painting.

“This is a very cute idea, I might have to try this with my dog Titus, whats your dogs name?” He spoke as he looked at the purple paw prints at were on the canvas.

“His name is Padfoot, after the-“

“Harry Potter series? Sirius black right?” Y/N glowed at the thought of him knowing where her dogs name came from. She was really expecting him to be mean like some of the other people at school when they asked her dogs name. They thought the name padfoot was stupid and she should have named her dog like shadow or something based off the dark fur.

Damian saw her change in demeanor and smirked before continuing.

“I love the Harry Potter series.”

“Me too! Well you probably already knew that because of the name but-“

“Hey, it’s fine.” Damian reassured as she started to rant and stumble on her words. Damian loved Y/N’s shyness. It meant he had to worry about a lot less people being in the way. Then he realized he didn’t even know her name yet.

“What’s your name?” He questioned in subtle flirty tone.

“I’m y/n! What’s yours?” She did already know his name but she assumed that he would like to introduce himself. He liked that.

“Wayne, Damian Wayne.” He held out a hand for her to shake and she went to do so before noticing all the paint of her hands.

“Nice to meet you, I’d shake your hand but I’d feel bad getting paint on you.” Damian smiled slightly at her kind nature and proceeded to shake her hand anyway that seemed to fit perfectly in his. He didn’t even hardly pay attention to the white paint that was in his hands.

“It’s alright.” He said as he saw her looking alarmed at the paint on his hands.

Damian wanted to move quickly. He wanted to make her his as soon as possible. So he began another conversation and asked her about her life such as her friends, family, what area of Gotham she lived in, if she was single; to which she blushed brightly at as she replied with a quick yes as she never even held hands with a boy before. Damian was pleased with all the answers, and he felt very protective over her as she told him her address. He had to keep her safe if she was just waking around telling her address to anybody. Of course he wouldn’t be just anybody to her but it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t go telling other people who he knew didn��t deserve it know.

Damian didn’t want to go the route Timothy Drake did. He didn’t want to immediately force her to be his. He wanted something that made him feel the love that he was neglected of for years. He found his beloved and he knew that he had to be gentle in a way. But he could tell she was perfect for him.

She had finished her painting and put it over but the others from class the day and Padfoots had dried so she picked up the small easel and put it in her bag.

“I should probably head home now.” She spoke after she put Padfoot back on his leash and washed most of the paint off his paws. Damian panicked slightly as he didn’t want their time to end but, he also knew he could go home and search up everything he could find on the bat computer.

They walked out to the front together and saw Alfred patiently waiting in the car while reading a book. He looked up and saw Damian walking out alongside Y/N and smiled to himself slightly. He knew the boy deserved love, and it seemed that he had found his.

Y/N was tempted to ask for his number, but she didn’t want to come across as clingy or pushy. She had deeply enjoyed talking to him and she wanted to further.

“Pass me your phone.” Damian said with a slight demanding tone. Y/N did so without hesitation making Damian smirk as he typed in his number and put his name in the contact. He sent a messages to himself after and discreetly changed her contact name to ‘My Beloved ❥’ and handed back her phone.

“There, I texted myself from your phoen so we have each other’s numbers. Text me whenever you want.” Y/N smiled brightly at him making him smile back.

She began to wave goodbye and make the walk back home but he stopped her once he saw her start walking.

“Wait you’re walk home? Alone? But you live so far.”

“Yeah, my parents are always working so they can’t come get me. But it’s okay, I’m used to walking home .” But Damian immediately begins shaking his head. He knew the dangers of being in Gotham as he has seen many first hand. He wouldn’t allow his beloved to be so unprotected.

“I’ll give you a ride home from now on okay?” He spoke decidedly. She began to shake her head no.

“I couldn’t ask to do do that-“

“You didn’t ask, I told you. I’m going to give you a ride home, it’s too dangerous out there by yourself.”

“But I got Padfoot to protect me!” She spoke innocently while holding up the shaggy black dog.

Damian looked at her with a look that left no room for argument.

“Fine… but just this once.” Y/N said before following him over to the sleek black car.

“Definitely not only once, but believe what you want to believe. I can be quite… persuasive.”

Damian opened the door for her to get it and he helped her inside before getting in on the other side while Alfred glanced in the mirror every so often.

“Hello. Nice to meet you, what’s your name sir?” She spoke politely looking at Alfred as he looked up in the mirror.

“I’m Alfred Pennyworth. And you are?”

“Y/N L/N.”

“Nice to meet you as well Miss L/N.”

She smiled at him as he saw in the mirror and he slightly smiled back and could already tell she was a kind person. Perfect for Damian and the Wayne family.

Her and Damian talked the whole ride to her house after she gave Alfred her address. Once they arrived Damian tried not to look to disappointed and continued to reassure himself that he would see her the next day for sure. He would also look her up on the bat computer.

They pulled up in front of a nice house that resided in a sketchy area, well all of Gotham was sketchy but Damian remembered one of the warehouse down the street was one of Jokers hold hideouts and he stopped a drug sale a few houses down and not to even mention the-

Before he continue she opened her door and stepped out of the car.

“Thank you for the ride Mr.Pennyworth. Bye Dami!” She said happily as she set Padfoot out of the car as well and made her way into the house. As the door shut behind her he snapped out of his trance of thinking of all the dangers and the fact she already gave him a nickname.

“Beat that Todd.” Damian thought to himself as he was already making more progress in a day than Todd and Grayson had in weeks with their soulmates.

“I presume that’s her Master Wayne?”

“Definitely Pennyworth. She’s My Beloved.”

~*~

I hope you liked it ♡

#yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #jason todd #alfred pennyworth #batboys #batman #Damian Wayne #x reader #dc universe #yandere #soulmate

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zhongliologist · 4 years ago

Text

The Persistence of Time | Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x Gender Neutral!Reader

Genre: ANGST!! ANGST!!!!

Words: 3.1k

AN: Sorry this took a while!! I was trying to gather enough lore for this to work;;; I hope it was ok >////<!!!

Now Playing: How Can I Love the Heartbreak, You’re the One I Love - AKMU; Vocalise, Op.34 - Sergei Rachmaninoff; Pavane pour une infante defunte, M.19 - Maurice Ravel

“That era has passed. Nothing that belonged to it exists anymore.”

-Wong Kar-Wai, In the Mood for Love

There was no sadness, no pain,

Just a longing for a moment in my life

Where everything seemed right,

Where happiness was due,

And where you and I existed.

I thought it would encompass infinity;

Towards the recesses of the universe

and the end of time.

Yet it passed us without telling;

It had passed without us knowing.

And I am now alone—

Left with a bleak emptiness,

Knowing what and how it felt to be

Complete.

“Please forgive me.”

It was there on that day when the gentle sea breeze became harsh gale, when the serene mountains behind him became tall ominous shadows reflecting the darkness cast upon his face. It was when the monotonous world was painted with vivid hurtful tones of silence and heartbreak; gnashing at his heart as it cut the final slivers of happiness left in him.

On that rather peaceful night, when the layers of dust that covered his heart finally blew away, Zhongli finally unearthed the haunting truth he tried to bury. After thousands of years, after monuments turn into ruins, and monoliths turn into sand, and wash away into the shores of time, he finally felt his heart tremble again.

Please forgive me.

“I am truly grateful to be able to receive your love…”

He could see it. Against the dark void of the cloudless sky, he saw it all in your eyes: the pain he had caused, killing you slowly inside like some torturous mechanism devised only by him. It had also cut him open, bleeding bloodless as he tried to force the words out of his lips.

Please…forgive me…

He didn’t want to say it; he didn’t want to hurt you. If only he could pull you to his embrace, wrap you around his arms so tenderly to ease the woes of your heart. If only he had that choice in the first place. He wished he had at that moment. But this was for the best.

“…and I also have come to realize my feelings for you, but—”

Truly, truly, he loves you. More than you can ever imagine; more than what you were thinking of right now as you stood motionless, awaiting his words. He would move mountains, divide the seas for you. He would do everything for you. And the moment you told him how you felt earlier that night was one of the happiest moments in his life, but even then, the tale must end before it could even begin.

He couldn’t risk it. You who had became so precious to him in a span of a few months, he couldn’t risk it. For you to be with a person like him; you deserved better.

“I have already resigned myself to this loneliness.”

Please forgive me.

Heartbreak is momentary. It will soon disappear, and you will soon forget about him. You will move on and find the happiness that he couldn’t give you in the arms of someone else. It felt like thorns around his throat, poison in his chest when he thought about it, yet it has to be done.

This pain will eventually be forgotten.

As he gazed at you, your eyes stunned and holding back tears he wished he could wipe away, Zhongli felt it pierce through him; more painful than any blade or arrow that ever wounded him. But this was for your own good.

“…why…?” you finally asked, eyes too weak to hold any more tears; leaving him more remorseful than ever before. “Don’t I deserve to know why?”

He grit his teeth, cursing silently at the wind. He always admired how you would never give up despite your gentle nature, but right now, it didn’t make things any easier.

“You and I both know what we feel…” you shouted at him, voice trembling. “So why…? Why can’t we be together?”

It was too much. Clenching his hands into fists, he turned away before he could give in to you; his brows furrowing in pain as he heard your sobs being swept by the wind.

“Zhongli!” you screamed, your chest too tight to be able to breathe as your voice diminished into a plea. “…answer me…please…”

His hand was trembling as he tried to hold the hurt in; to keep it suppressed into a tiny pebble inside his chest. But there will always be a point in time when he had to lose strength, when he was at his weakest—and you perfectly hit that mark when you asked him why with so much vulnerability.

“Not now…” he began, his words finally lost to him. “But if you really wish to know, see me tomorrow. At the Guili Ruins.”

If only the weather would also stay true to your feelings, it would’ve been a bit better.

Yet the sun was shining brightly, and the sky a deep cobalt blue with tiny whisps of titanium white clouds as it rolled across the expansive visage of the Guili Plains. Life moved on faster than your heart could ever catch up, even if it got broken just the night before.

And the one who broke it was just a few steps ahead.

Zhongli stood waiting for you just beside the main dirt road, mind always wandering farther than his feet could take him. You always wondered where his thoughts took him, or what was in his mind when he told you he had already ‘resigned to loneliness’.

As you approached him with a dread for the truth, you reminded yourself that this was what you asked for. That night, he seemed like he wouldn’t even give you an explanation if you hadn’t pressed him for it, and you wondered what was the reason for that. Now that you have arrived, it wouldn’t take long for you to finally discover what the answer was.

“…Zhongli,” you called out to him softly, stealing him away from his reveries.

He promptly gazed at you, amber eyes lingering for far too long for it to be just a simple glance. But before you could ask him why, he turned away coldly.

“Follow me.”

It stung you—how easily he could shut you off, how easily he could push you away even though you knew what he actually felt. Your eyes widened briefly, unused to this stone cold Zhongli, but you decided not to dwell on it before it could permanently hurt you. Crying when things had barely begun wouldn’t amount to anything.

Ruins buried halfway on the ground dotted the green landscape; scattered into miniscule pieces that were no longer discernable. If only you could see how shattered your heart was, it would’ve looked similar to these desolate ruins. As you trailed behind him, unable to look at the same back you once embraced, you once leaned on to; your eyes simply gazed down on the ground just to tame these tumultuous tides of emotions.

If only you knew how much Zhongli tried to contain himself—balling his hands into tight fists, his teeth gritting at the way he kept on hurting you. He once was someone who could wear coldness in the face of carnage, yet right now, as you gazed at him with eyes so hopeful, he could feel the mask crumbling, cracking away piece by piece.

But this is for your own good—he reminded himself for the millionth, billionth, nth time.

Eventually he stopped walking, just standing right before a glowing circle on the ground. You could see a cliff behind him, overlooking a sea of long-forgotten stone ruins.

“The Guili Plains were once home to the Guili Assembly,” Zhongli began as he faced you, expression unreadable. “A precursor to the harbor city of Liyue, the Assembly was once ruled over by the God of Dust, Guizhong, and the Geo Archon Rex Lapis.”

You raised a brow at him.

It was already no surprise that Zhongli is Rex Lapis. You were long suspicious and he eventually told you, but you wondered what was the point of all of this; why he specifically asked to meet at this certain place, telling you a tale that has been buried under the sands of time. All you asked him was why he had to reject you.

“Yet the Archon Wars continued to set the lands of Liyue ablaze, and we struggled to protect the people we vowed to protect,” he continued, eyes holding no semblance of emotion, as if he had left everything behind in the distant past. “In the end, we were not strong enough. I was not strong enough to protect even Guizhong.”

You simply stood there, regarding him silently as the cogs in your head turned. For the first time today, you finally heard his stoic expression crack. Did he deeply regret Guizhong’s death that even after thousands of years, he still hasn’t moved on?

“I was too weak, too powerless,” his said his voice trailing off as he finally gave in to the vulnerability. “There was no reason for her to perish. Guizhong was gentle with her people, more compassionate than I could ever be, yet…yet…I—”

He wished he didn’t have to recall that certain moment which was still etched vividly in his memory to this very day, yet you really had to ask him why. You who had been looking at him so lovingly all this time, harboring no hatred in your heart—Zhongli could no longer conceal any more of these emotions which plague him for millennia.

As you watched him visibly shake as the stone wall he had set up earlier crumbled into dust, you couldn’t help but feel the pain he had gone through over the years. Your heart ached for him, wondering what he must’ve felt when he lost the people he had once considered close to him. It became clear to you that the one thing he needed the least was loneliness.

Taking the first step, you walked towards him and cupped his cheek; forcing him to face you. It felt like a jab as soon as you noticed the hurt in his eyes, even with words unspoken, you immediately knew how much he had suffered.

“She was precious to you, wasn’t she?” you asked, tracing circles on his skin, your voice soft.

“YN…” Zhongli called out your name, his eyes giving a glimpse of how he truly felt as they gazed into yours. “I…I—”

Finally, he collapsed as you pulled him to your embrace. He held on to you tightly; burying his head on your shoulders, hoping that the pain would at least subside if he was in your arms.

“I…I promised her…back then. I promised…I would become the strength to support her and her people. Yet I could not even fulfill that promise…” he continued as he sobbed into your shoulders. “She was always loving to everyone…yet even I, as an Archon…could not…”

For the first time in a long while, Zhongli allowed tears to pour from his eyes as he continued to embrace you. He was enamored with you at first because of how much you reminded him of Guizhong, yet the more time he spent with you, the more he fell for you, he realized that you were different from her. Yet he still couldn’t deny his feelings. He still fell in love with you.

“I am terrified, YN…if I can’t even protect her, then…how can I even keep you safe…?”

You forced your chest to stop clenching tightly when you heard his words. Of course, there was a pang of jealously—of how much he treasured her that he still carried it with him over the years. But at the same time, you felt sorry for him. Even if he did everything he could, he still blames himself for what had happened.

“If you would die as well because of these hands… then I will never be able to forgive myself. That is why I must push you away before any misfortune shall befall you. This is the only way I could protect you.”

He couldn’t stop. He had to say everything. You had to know.

“Even…even if it pains me to see you leave, to see you love someone else, then I must endure. As long as you are happy, as long as you are alive, then I have nothing to regret.”

Brushing your hands through his long hair, you comforted him the best that you could.

“Zhongli…you blockhead…” you whispered as you rubbed his back gently. “I would never be happier if I couldn’t stay by your side. I would never be happy if you’re in pain. Please don’t carry this burden all by yourself. If I am in your arms, then I will always feel safe. You don’t have to shoulder the responsibility of protecting me all alone, I am fully capable of protecting myself, you know.”

Pulling away, Zhongli gazed into your eyes, as you wiped his tear stained face clean with a ghost of a smile. “What happened to Guizhong was a tragedy that came from a war you had already won. Yet you had led her people safely despite your shortcomings and your mistakes.”

“Look at Liyue now,” you continued. “Do you see how beautiful it is? These majestic plains and pools and mountain tops were sculpted by your very hands. Yes, you may have failed to protect her, but her legacy continues on because of you. Liyue Harbor exists because of both of your efforts, and we would have never met if you had never stumbled and fell. No matter how many mistakes you make, she would’ve already forgiven you, knowing how much you worked hard for Liyue even if you say you’re not suited for it. She’ll be proud of you.”

Again, he felt his heart trembled at your very words; the stone which covered it gradually cracking open. He had never told anyone about his regrets before, and it felt so light, knowing that he had you now, knowing that you would understand him. He wouldn’t have to feel so alone.

“YN…” Zhongli whispered, holding your cheeks between his hands as he stared at you with an evocative gaze.

In a moment’s surprise, he captured your lips in a soft yet vulnerable kiss; pouring everything he felt for you at that moment. You could feel it as he swept pass your lips, the intensity of his emotions and the gentleness of his touch. Whatever happened in the past will stay in the past. Right now, he had you.

Gasping for air, the both of you glanced at each other as words unspoken passed between you. He was grateful to have met you in this lifetime. Considering that he is a god who had lived thousands of years, the chances of meeting someone like you was terrifyingly low. But even then, he felt lucky.

“I know you can’t forgive yourself this easily, but I’m sure that you’ll get there,” you told him as you held on to his hand. “I will always be right beside you; to help you get up if you stumble again. I’ll be your support as you come into terms with your own regrets. It will take time, but we have all the time in the world.”

“Thank you,” Zhongli replied, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing it gently with a smile on his face. “

“Come here,” he told you as he slowly turned and walked towards the cliffside. “I have something yet to show you.”

Curious, you followed him to where he sat; leaning against a stone wall that was once part of a greater structure. Sitting next to him at a ledge, you watched as he produced an intricate cube, floating on the air as he held it closely. It seemed to be made of stone yet the streaks around it were glowing golden.

“This is a dumbbell called Memory of Dust,” he prefaced, turning it around gently. “It was something Guizhong gave to me before I lost her, saying that if I can unlock it then perhaps…”

You turned to him curiously. “Perhaps what?”

He gazed at the object with a sighed. “She was never able to finish what she said, and I was never able to unlock it.”

Humming, you leaned your head to inspect it closely. “She didn’t leave any clues?”

“Unfortunately, not.”

“I wonder what it contains—”

“YN!”

As soon as you touched it however, the sides of the object began moving as Zhongli swiftly moved you away from it, shielding you behind him. The cube continued to move as it floated a little further away and began glowing much brighter than ever before.

In a bright flash of light, the object imploded and the next thing Zhongli noticed was familiar voice that seem to be humming just beside his ear. He stood there, feet frozen to the ground, and simply allowed the moment to happen.

“I see. It seems you had finally understood how to become ‘human’…to be able to connect to someone and empathize, to finally understand love, and how to love whole heartedly, to lay down all your burdens and lean on for support. Now it is time for you to experience it. You have done well.”

“…Guizhong…?”

“Here is the Persistence of Time. It is slow changing and persistent. It will continue to flow like tides and ripples in a vast and never-ending fabric of the universe. Everything will be washed away and buried; tucked away until it decimates into grains of sand. Fragments, memory and meaning—all forgotten as those who remember them had long left this world. Yet as time continues to persist, then so too shall love exist past the constraints of time and memory. I shall continue to watch over you, over Liyue, as the new age of mankind dawns. Live well, my Lord.”

He had never expected to hear a voice he hadn’t heard for such a long time. Yet by the time the presence had disappeared and vanished into the air, he could finally feel some sense of peace; closure.

“Oh? You’re smiling.” Zhongli finally heard your voice as you leaned against him; your eyes seemingly knowing yet refusing to tell.

“Am I?” he asked as he offered you his arm. “I am simply grateful of your love, and of your patience with me. If you had given up that night, I would have never understood.”

You hummed. “There was something in that object after all, but then again, I’m happy. Next time, please don’t just jump into plans that aren’t even well thought out. We have each other now, don’t we?”

In a moment’s notice, Zhongli cupped your cheek; giving your lips a small but gentle peck.

“I shall be counting on you then.”

#genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli angst #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader

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the-last-kenobi · 4 years ago

Note

For BTHB "Halucinations" with Obi-wan on Zigoola?

@coalmine301 you do delight my whump-loving heart. Sorry this took so long!

tw for mental breakdown, ptsd, graphic injury, self harm, and torture.

Zigoola was not a place.

At least, it was not only a place. Not anymore.

The power of the Force, honed and used and washed over a place over time, eventually causes great change.

The Jedi Temple was not merely a building, after all, but a beacon of peace and light for all who could feel it. Its bones ran deep with power, layers upon layers of light.

It was the way of the Light to be fortitude, to be patience, to be serenity, forgiveness, humility.

It was the way of the Dark to be recklessness, to be rage, to be thrill, to be destruction, consumption, emotion.

And Zigoola was Dark.

Dark indeed.

And when Obi-Wan Kenobi left that hellish planet, secure in the worried arms of Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala...

Zigoola followed him home.

: : : : :

Anakin and Ahsoka returned from their most recent campaign flushed with triumph and eager to share the bragging stories all the men did, with bravado and cheer to help cover for the losses met and the sacrifices made.

They returned when most of Obi-Wan’s external injuries had been washed away by bacta.

“Hey, Master,” Anakin greeted him, stretching luxuriously as he swaggered into their quarters. He always called him Master when he was worried about him. “Heard you got roughed up on a mission. What happened?”

His eyes were overly keen. He had seen that Obi-Wan is (is?) fine, and now he wanted to know why secrets were being kept.

How dare they send his Master alone on some secret mission?

How dare they allow him to be harmed because Anakin wasn’t there beside him?

“We met with some turbulence,” Obi-Wan said calmly, carefully turning in his chair in a way that showed Anakin his face while casting the still-pink burn on one side hidden by shadow, in a way that didn’t put pressure on his bad leg. (Worse leg.) “I’m all right. Bacta still smells as unpleasant as I recall.”

Anakin chuckled. He came to sit on a nearby chair, kicking his booted feet in the air.

“Anakin,” sighed Obi-Wan. He shifted again. Just a little. Just to keep his face out of direct light. “Please, sit properly?”

“This is properly,” his former apprentice teased. He flipped around so that his feet were off the back of the chair and his head was on the floor. “A chair is for getting off your feet and being comfy. I’m off my feet. I’m comfy. So this is totally proper.”

Obi-Wan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “graceless ass.”

Anakin launched a cup coaster at him with the Force.

: : : : :

Obi-Wan woke suddenly in the dead of night.

It was pitch black in his room, but he could sense Anakin leaning over him as clearly as if he could see him.

“‘N’kin?” he mumbled.

Anakin shifted closer to the bed. “Yeah. Obi-Wan... what’s going on?”

“What?”

“You were screaming,” his friend said slowly. “In your sleep.”

Obi-Wan flushed, grateful that the darkness hid his face from view. “Oh. I’m sorry. You know how disturbed the Force is these days, especially here on Coruscant. I must have...”

“No,” Anakin cut across him. “It wasn’t like that. What aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing, Anakin.”

“It’s not nothing.”

Obi-Wan sighed and shifted in his bed, tugging the sheets up higher, shielding himself from the chill of the room. “It is, Anakin. I’m sorry I disturbed you, but—”

“It’s not nothing,” said Anakin in a low voice. “If it was nothing you wouldn’t have lived. Why did you live?”

Obi-Wan’s heart stopped. “What?”

“Why did you live?” demanded Anakin’s voice. The dark presence beside him seemed to suddenly swell, filling the entire room, sucking out all the air. “Why didn’t you die, Jedi?”

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan said hoarsely, starting to sit upright.

Two hands caught him forcefully and shoved him back down, pinning him on his back. The bedsheets suddenly felt suffocating; his limbs were tangled in them hopelessly as he began to kick and struggle.

No matter how hard he thrashed, the hands held him firmly.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth - to question, to beg, to scream - something - but more hands came out of the blackness and closed around his throat, cutting off his voice before he could do more than let out choked cry.

The darkness remained, but somehow, Anakin’s snarling face came into view, illuminated in red as if by fire.

“You should have died on Zigoola,” he sneered. “Die, Jedi.”

And he snapped Obi-Wan’s neck.

: : : : :

Anakin meandered up the hallway, chasing a feeling.

It happened sometimes. The Force just prodded and poked with no clarity whatsoever.

He spotted a familiar figure at the end of the hallway, standing next to a large window overlooking the western horizon of Coruscant. Anakin knew long before he got close that it was Obi-Wan.

“Hey.”

The man didn’t move.

“Obi-Wan, Ahsoka wants to grab lunch at Dex’s before she sets out for her solo. You coming?”

He had his robe on, but it was wrapped tightly around him, and the hood was raised.

Anakin frowned and stepped closer. “Hey. Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan pulled his cloak even tighter around him. His head turned slightly. “Go ahead and say what you want to say,” his former Master muttered. “I won’t talk to you.”

Anakin looked as if he’d been slapped; the hand he had raised to touch the older man’s shoulder fell back to his side. “Fine,” he said curtly. “Whatever makes you happy I guess.”

He turned on his heel and stalked off, brimming with hurt and anger.

He was long gone before the Jedi by the window turned his head slowly to look where he had gone, a look of confusion on his face. “...Anakin?”

: : : : :

Night fell again.

Obi-Wan climbed slowly into bed, shaking like a leaf in a tempest. It took five tries - five - just to hoist himself onto his mattress and lay flat, his hands and feet trembling so badly that even his vision was vibrating.

His head began to pound.

Die, Jedi.

Die, Jedi, Die, Jedi, Die, Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die-Jedi-Die-Jedi-Die-Jedi

DIE JEDI DIE—

Bail’s hands covering his. A flash of red. A flash of blue.

Obi-Wan clamped a palm over his mouth to contain the shriek of agony that exploded out of him.

His head - his leg—

Die Jedi

Bail was screaming—

Qui-Gon was reaching for him, then toppling backwards with a beam of red through his chest, his face frozen in a look of shock—

Die Jedi

Obi-Wan slammed his head against the headboard, screaming again into his hand.

“Obi-Wan!”

Anakin was standing over him again, and Obi-Wan curled away from him, clutching his wounded leg with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

Anakin towered over him, tall, washed in the light streaming from the common area of their quarters—

Wait.

Anakin dropped to his knees, his expression almost frightened. “Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, snap out of it!”

The older Jedi shuddered where he lay, digging his fingernails into his leg for a purchase on reality.

“Master,” Anakin begged. “Please talk to me!”

Obi-Wan reached further down his leg and shoved his fingertips into the open wound made by his own saber - but - but his fingers dug only into shallow scarring and the dull throbbing of still-healing tissue.

Zigoola.

Bail.

That injury.

It had all been... weeks ago. Weeks and weeks.

His former student knelt next to him, one hand clinging to the bedclothes, clearly wanting to comfort his Master but wary of frightening him further.

“...Anakin?” Obi-Wan whispered around his hand. His voice was small and cracked, a child’s voice after a night terror. “A-Anakin?”

The younger man exhaled shakily, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s me, Master. Listen. Obi-Wan, you have to let go of your leg... and your face... you’re hurting yourself, all right? Just let go.”

Obi-Wan stared at him.

Anakin stared back, half-stern, half-begging.

After a moment, Obi-Wan obeyed.

He released his leg gingerly, and felt only the residual pain of his slow-healing stab wound and the sharp imprints of his own fingernails.

Then he removed his hand from over his mouth.

His howl of anguish when a red blade pierced Anakin from behind tore through the room, and died into terrified dry sobbing when Anakin fell dead to the floor, his young face painted with shock.

: : : : :

“Master Kenobi!”

Obi-Wan ignored it.

Whoever it was would get his attention more forcefully, real or otherwise. He had no choice but to accept it, but delaying, delaying he could do.

“Master Kenobi! Obi-Wan Kenobi, have you lost your hearing?”

A middle-aged Twi’lek with bold blue skin shouldered her way in front of him; her expression was fierce, but her eyes and the hand she pressed against his chest to stop him were exceedingly gentle. “Obi-Wan?” she repeated.

“Master Che,” he answered dully. “Can I help you?”

“I was about to ask you the same,” she returned, eyes narrowing with concern as she took in his wan visage. “Obi-Wan, your health is deteriorating. An apprentice Healer could tell that at a glance. Why didn’t you come to the Halls?”

“There’s no point,” he said. “It’s just lack of sleep. I’ll pull through.”

Her lekku twitched. “Lack of sleep, hm? That doesn’t explain the rapid weight loss, the new damage on your arms, or your eroding mental shielding...”

“I am fine, Vokara,” the youngest Councilor said sharply. “I won’t be forced into the Halls against my will. If something is really wrong, by all means, feel free to scrape me off the pavement.”

He walked away with his hands folded in his sleeves. His head was bowed.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” the Healer murmured, and picked up her comm unit. “Skywalker. We need to have a conversation. Your Master’s last mission is classified on a need-to-know basis. And you need to know.”

: : : : :

Anakin entered their shared rooms cautiously this time.

The lights were off, save a few small illuminators scattered around the room, radiating soft warm light like candles. Obi-Wan’s robe was draped over the back of the chair, and his boots were set neatly on a mat against the wall, a contrast to Anakin’s, which could usually be found in odd places like on a chair or next to the refrigerator unit.

His former Master’s door was closed.

Hardly daring to breathe, Anakin gently pushed it open.

He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the deep darkness, and felt his breath hitch.

The bed was empty.

The sheets were tangled and strewn halfway across the floor, as if the occupant had been dragged away or had left in a panic.

Anakin sprang forward, his heart in his throat, as he noticed two things.

A black scorch mark in the floor, where a saber had struck it.

And Obi-Wan’s lightsaber lying discarded in the corner.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin yelled. “No... no—Obi-Wan!”

: : : : :

Obi-Wan ran.

His vision was flickering like an old holo, flashes of different things all layered together - was he running over damp grass with Qui-Gon - or the polished floors of the Jedi Temple - or the cracked stone of a Sith Temple with Bail - or a strange fiery planet with bursts of lava and Anakin just out of reach - or —

He didn’t know.

He kept running, constantly changing direction as he registered obstacles and turns at the last second.

There was a tree in front of him. He veered left and smacked into a stone wall carved with Sith Runes.

The graven words burned red and fire lanced out at him, biting into his clothing and taking hold, setting him aflame.

Obi-Wan gasped. He stumbled backwards, trying desperately to peel the burning clothing off of him, hearing maniacal laughter echoing from the black corridors all around him, hearing the screams of the dying, the dead.

Someone grabbed him by the arm and he wheeled around, the fire vanishing inexplicably as Cody, wearing bloodstained armor but without his helmet, stumbled into his arms, gasping for air.

Before Obi-Wan could speak, Cody spat out a mouthful of blood and fell to his knees. His hands dragged the Jedi down with him. But when they hit the floor, it was only Obi-Wan, on his hands and knees in some corridor of the Temple, shuddering and crying.

Die Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die Jedi Die

Die Jedi

DIE JEDI

Die

Jedi Die Jedi

Die

DIE JEDI DIE

Die

die

The voices in his head rose and coalesced.

Now the voices of the Sith and the voices of his past and the voices of the future and the voices of the dead were all in agreement—

DIE, JEDI

Obi-Wan reached out desperately for the Light.

There was only Darkness.

Die, Jedi, Die, Jedi

Qui-Gon, running ahead of him chasing a Sith across catwalks. Obi-Wan, desperately racing after him.

Qui-Gon turning at the last second, his verdant lightsaber running Obi-Wan through. The man smiled. Relieved. Pleased. “Die,” he said.

Anakin, ten years old, tentatively asking to spend the night in the same sleeping mat on a mission. Obi-Wan, gently pulling his apprentice into his arms. Waking up hours later with small hands wrapped around his throat and cutting off his air. The innocent face grinned. “Die.”

Ahsoka, dangling out the side of a crashing Y-wing, crying out in pain as her injured shoulder strained. Obi-Wan, diving to catch her hand before she could fall, lifting her back into the ship. Hugging her. And then she kicked him, hard, sending him flying out the door and to his death. She smiled after him. “Die.”

Where was the light?

Where?

...There.

A faint blur of light. A glow.

The feel of fresh air, defying the horrifying visions.

Obi-Wan fixed his eyes on the light, and jumped.

“...NO!”

Someone stopped him. Caught him violently around the waist and dragged him back, pulling him back into the shadows.

Obi-Wan wept, utterly spent.

“Obi-Wan!” a voice raged at him. “What were you doing? What were you even doing?!”

The Jedi only continued to weep silently, letting the strong arms haul him further away. He felt himself lowered to the ground, felt arms come around him in an embrace that felt restrictive.

“Talk to me! Dammit, Master, I need you to focus. Please! Come on, open your eyes properly. Look at me. Look at me.”

The voice became gentler as it went on. Warm and soothing, like the small fires they pitched in encampments, when it was safe to do things like that.

A gentle Force presence brushed against his mind.

It blew through the claws and thorns of Darkness like a hot wind - painful at first, and then calming.

Comforting.

Bright.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and found himself collapsed in Anakin’s arms, his friend looking down at him with a face twisted with fear and concern. They shifted a little into relief when he met Anakin’s blue eyes.

“...A-Ana...An’kin?” Obi-Wan asked, hardly daring to hope.

Anakin nodded fiercely. “Yeah. It’s me. Listen — we’re going to talk about this later. We’re going to fix this. I’m not going to leave you alone for a second, you hear me? We’ll stick together until this is over. But for now...”

He swallowed hard and looked up at the open balcony mere yards away, glowing innocently in the light of a Coruscant night, the only source of light in the long dark hallway.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

Obi-Wan exhaled softly. “...All right.”

And then his eyes fluttered closed again, his head tilting to one side to rest against his Padawan’s shoulder. Anakin jolted slightly in alarm, but when he checked, he realized that his old Master was merely sleeping.

A proper sleep.

For the first time in Force knew how long.

Anakin sighed and stood up, carrying Obi-Wan in his arms. He was heavy, but still too light and too thin for Anakin’s liking.

The report from Master Che... Anakin bit the inside of his cheek hard to contain a curse, remembering the extensive list of injuries and repercussions the Healer had given him with her eyes full of uncharacteristic worry.

But it would be all right.

They’d handle it together.

They always had.

Always would.

Anakin paused at the end of the corridor and looked back. He held Obi-Wan a little tighter— remembering the moment he had come tearing up this same hall not five minutes before, just in time to see him - the man he had followed for twelve years, humorous and serene and kind and steady, his mentor, his best friend, almost his father, even closer to being a brother...

See him sobbing, stumbling blindly, preparing to leap over the edge of the balcony to his death.

Tormented and lured by the Dark Side.

Anakin forced himself to turn away once more and move his feet back home, holding the sleeping Obi-Wan with all his strength.

: : : : : : :

#bad things happen bingo #I write to make you upset #that’s it #that’s why #okay that’s an exaggeration but still #star wars #star wars fic #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #hurt comfort #this time with some actual comfort #zigoola #bail organa #long post

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olivemac · 3 years ago

Text

1300 miles | chapter one | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, Sarge), smut (f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, slight dom!Bucky, praise kink), angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

A/N | It’s my birthday, so to celebrate I’m sharing chapter one of my new WIP. This started its life as a one-shot but then my enneagram 4 brain took over and now it’s looking like it’ll be a multi-chapter short. Enjoy!

Also, feedback – comments, likes, etc. – is always appreciated, my loves.

AO3 link | 1300 miles playlist

_____

The sun is just starting to sink in the sky as Sam and Bucky finish the latest repairs on the boat. Sam has spent the last hour pestering Bucky about things he’s missed over the last 80 years — things he needs to do, shows and movies he needs to watch, music to listen to, places to go. Bucky is considering the consequences of putting his vibranium fist through the new Captain America’s face.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been to New Orleans?” Sam half-shouts at Bucky in amusement.

“Sam, besides the airport, when would I have been to New Orleans?” Bucky sighs.

“We’re going. Tonight.” He stands up. “But none of that Bourbon Street bullshit. I know a place,” he says.

_____

The bar is crowded on a Saturday night, but they manage to find a table near the small stage where a band is setting up.

“I’ll get drinks,” Sam says, heading to the bar.

“Sam said he knows the owners?” Bucky asks Sarah.

“Jo and Danny. Yeah,” Sarah says. “Danny served with Sam on his last tour. Real young kid when he served. Took some shrapnel to the chest and face in an RPG explosion and got out early. He and Sam kept in touch.”

Bucky watches Sam talk to a man with a mop of curly, brown hair and an auburn beard behind the bar. From where he sits, Bucky can see a jagged scar peeking out from the top of the man’s beard over his cheek, stopping just below his right eye.

Sam returns with three beers. "Danny says hi," he tells Sarah. "Says he'll come over when he has a free minute."

"Jo around?" Sarah asks.

Sam nods toward the stage. "She's playing tonight. Danny says she's in the office rewriting the set list."

Bucky sips his beer and looks around. When they entered, there was a wave of enthusiasm as people recognized Sam as Captain America, but it seems to have died down and now no one is paying them much attention. Bucky prefers it that way, though he’s happy that people are excited for Sam.

“Speak of the devil,” Sam says, smiling and nodding toward a woman emerging from a door beside the bar marked ‘Employees Only.’ She’s wearing a loose-fitting white tank tucked into light-wash jeans cuffed just above a pair of black combat boots. Her wavy, dark hair fans out behind her as she rushes towards the stage. She's clutching a piece of paper in one hand, and the smile on her face makes Bucky's heart stutter for a moment.

Sam catches the way Bucky is watching Jo as she jumps onto the stage. He elbows Sarah and nods at the lovestruck look on Bucky's face, and they share a smirk. Bucky doesn't notice the exchange. He's too busy studying Jo. Her arms are covered in tattoos, from shoulders to fingers. When she tucks a strand of hair behind her left ear, Bucky can see the row of piercings adorning the curve of her ear. There's a gold ring between her nostrils. Bucky's seen some of the kids in Brooklyn with that piercing, but he doesn't know what it's called. He's seen plenty of women like her since moving back to New York — with tattoos and piercings and dark hair — but there's something about the combination with her green eyes and soft smile that makes his mouth go dry and his palm sweat.

He takes another sip of his beer to ground himself.

Jo picks up an acoustic-electric guitar from its stand, swings the strap over her shoulder, and plugs the guitar into a small amp at her feet. She raises her right hand in the air and sets a count with her fingers — one, two, three, four. The band starts, and Jo strums the guitar, smiling at the crowd. When she steps up to the microphone and opens her mouth, Bucky is surprised at how sweet her voice sounds. He was expecting it to be rougher, but it's gentle and warm, and he likes the way her mouth looks as it forms the words to the song.

Next to him, Sam taps his foot along to the music. Bucky can't remember the last time he saw a band play live. God, he thinks, it was before the war, before everything. He takes another sip of his beer before Sarah hands him a fresh bottle. He hadn't even noticed that she'd left the table and gone to the bar. He smiles and nods his thanks.

Sarah leans over and whispers to Bucky just loud enough for Sam to hear, as well, "You should ask her out after the show."

Bucky grimaces and shakes his head. As he told Yori once, there's a dance to these things, and he's eighty years out of practice. Plus, his last date didn't exactly go as planned.

But he can't stop staring at Jo's painted black nails and tattooed fingers as they move across the guitar strings. LOVE is written across the top knuckles of her right hand, HATE on the left. A series of lines and dots decorate her lower knuckles. There’s a snake curling around her left wrist, its inked head resting on her hand, and several large peonies cover the back of her right hand and up her forearm. Bucky wonders what her tattooed hands would look like wrapped around his cock. He also wonders where else on her body she has tattoos and what that voice would sound like when he's between her thighs. Fuck.

The band transitions into another song, and Jo's eyes land on Bucky. She's used to people staring at her, especially when she's on stage, but she's caught by the way his eyes never leave her, never wander to look at the band's female bassist or to Sarah sitting next to him. She's certain his stare could burn a hole right through her, and she wouldn't even complain. He’s fucking gorgeous.

She knows who he is, of course. She’s seen the recent footage of him with Sam in New York and read the Times article detailing his move from assassin to almost Avenger. Plus, her twin brother, Danny, was a bit of a history nerd as a kid so she’s definitely seen a Captain America documentary that mentioned the Howling Commandos. And they may or may not have hidden a fugitive Captain America and Falcon following the Accords.

Jo tears her eyes away from the super soldier and focuses on the rest of the audience. She can see Danny behind the bar, flirting with the man he's been trying to sleep with for the past two weeks. She catches his eye and smiles her encouragement between lyrics. Get his number! she tries to say with her eyes. Danny's usually pretty good at reading her mind. She doesn't know if it's a brother thing or a twin thing or just a Danny thing, but when he holds up his phone in surrender and smiles back at her, she knows he got the message.

The first half of their set ends with a crash of drums and a long guitar riff. Jo takes a swig from the mason jar full of water she keeps on stage. Her eyes meet Bucky's again as she swallows, and he licks his bottom lip. Heat curls in the pit of her stomach at the thought of what else that tongue could do.

Willow, the band's bassist, steps over and whispers in Jo's ear, “If you don’t fuck him after the show, I’m going to."

When Jo looks at her, she can see the amusement dancing in Willow's eyes. She rolls her own eyes and avoids looking directly at Bucky for the rest of the set.

_____

After the last song, Jo thanks the crowd and helps the rest of the band tidy up the stage, unplugging amps and turning off the mics. She's still trying not to look at Bucky, even though she can feel his eyes on her.

"You have to stop staring, man," Sam whispers to Bucky.

"I'm not staring," Bucky grumbles.

Sarah laughs, "You're definitely staring."

“Here," Sam says, "I'll introduce you." And before Bucky can protest, Sam is waving Jo over. "Josephine," Sam says, hugging her.

"Samuel," she returns, smiling. "Congrats on the new gig." She punches his shoulder lightly. "Better you than that John Walker douchebag," she says. Bucky snorts, and she catches his eye and smirks before turning to Sarah. "Hey, Sarah." They exchange pleasantries while Bucky tries to get his tongue to turn back from lead.

Sam points at Bucky, "This is—"

Bucky stands. "Bucky. Barnes."

Jo smiles and shakes his gloved hand. "Jo. Landry," she says, matching his cadence.

Sam was right. Bucky can't stop staring at her. This close, he can see there's a bit of gold in the green of her eyes and a slight gap between her two front teeth. She smells like sandalwood and citrus and just a little bit like pot.

Jo returns his stare. His five o’clock shadow doesn’t hide the dimple in his chin, and she briefly imagines pressing her lips against it. She’s trying to name the exact shade of blue of his eyes when Sam clears his throat.

She’s not usually so easily flustered by attractive people, but Bucky's blue eyes and chiseled jaw have done a number on her self-control. “Let me grab a drink,” Jo says, turning quickly.

“No need,” Danny says, appearing in front of her and handing her a glass. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “He’s cute.”

“Please fuck off,” Jo hisses in return, widening her eyes at him. She’s only half-serious, and Danny knows it. It’s a twin thing.

When she looks at Bucky again, he’s smirking, and she wonders if enhanced hearing is a super soldier trait. Bucky pulls out the fourth chair at the small table for her to sit, and Jo can't remember the last time someone did that for her.

"The show was great," Sarah says, grabbing Jo's attention.

"Thanks," Jo replies. "Took a while to get back to it after…” she snaps her fingers but doesn’t finish her sentence.

"You were snapped?" Bucky asks.

Jo nods. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."

"Cheers," she says sarcastically, raising her glass in a toast. She shakes her head again and pushes her hair behind her ear. "Five years just," she holds her hands open, "gone. Danny was still here, holding all this together by himself."

She tucks one leg under the other, and her knee bumps Bucky’s beneath the table. When she moves to pull her knee away from his, he places a gloved hand on her thigh, holding her leg in place.

Bucky surprises even himself with this move. He hasn’t been this forward with a woman since an auburn-haired nurse in Italy during the war. With her, it was all hands and mouths and skin on skin because he was certain he was going to die any day. Now he supposedly has all the time in the world. He just isn’t sure what he wants to do with it.

But in this moment, he's comfortable here, in this tiny bar, with a beer in his hand and Jo's knee pressed against his. He's confident that Sam would never introduce him to someone he couldn't trust.

Bucky's flirted with Sarah, sure, but that was mostly to irritate to Sam. And as much as he doesn't want to admit it, the thought of something happening between himself and Sarah and then ending badly and ruining his relationship with Sam makes his stomach hurt. Pursuing Jo seems safer in that regard. She and Sam are friends, but if — when, he thinks — he ruins things, he can just go back to New York instead of losing his only friend.

Jo asks Sarah about AJ and Cass to distract herself from the butterflies forming in her stomach at Bucky’s touch, and Sam starts a story about the boys' latest interests. Bucky is content to listen to the three of them talk, his eyes barely leaving Jo. When she flicks her gaze over to him every now and then, she doesn't seem phased by his staring, and she hasn't pulled her knee away from where it's softly touching his. After a while, Danny emerges from behind the bar and joins their table, introducing himself to Bucky with a firm handshake.

While Danny and Sam trade updates about people they know, Jo leans towards Bucky and asks, “You want another drink?”

“Sure,” Bucky replies.

Jo doesn’t say anything else, just nods her head toward the bar, stands, and offers Bucky her hand. He takes it, the leather glove of his right hand warm against her palm. He wishes he could feel her skin without the gloves between them. He doesn’t usually wear them around Sam and Sarah and everyone in Delacroix, but he wasn’t sure how the metal arm would be perceived at this bar he’s never been to. Sam told him not to worry about it, but Bucky doesn’t like to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Jo leads him through the sea of tables to a barstool, then moves behind the bar and grabs him a fresh bottle of the beer he's been drinking all night. "Unless you want something stronger," she says, pausing before she hands it to him.

"This is good," Bucky replies.

She pops the top and hands him the bottle. He takes a sip as he watches her maneuver around the bartender on duty to fix herself another whiskey sour before taking a seat on the barstool next to him.

"Full disclosure; because it's only fair," she says, taking a sip of her drink. "I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes. Not the whole story, but bits and pieces."

Bucky pauses. He searches her eyes for the fear he's expecting but finds none. "And you're okay with that?" he asks.

Jo quirks the corner of her mouth up in a half-smile and says, “If Sam trusts you, I trust you."

“I’m not great with meeting new people, and I was telling myself the same thing about you," Bucky admits, almost sheepishly.

“You know we can never tell Sam about this, right?" Jo says, conspiratorially. "We’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Never,” Bucky agrees, and knocks his beer bottle lightly against her glass in understanding.

They talk for a while, just the two of them alone at the end of the bar. Jo asks him how he likes Louisiana ("Hot, but the people are friendly"); where he's staying ("Sarah's"); when he's heading back to New York ("A week from tomorrow"); what he likes to do for fun ("Still figuring that out"); his favorite place ("Wakanda") and favorite book ("The Hobbit"); and a myriad of other questions — some of which Bucky answers easily and some that make him pause. He makes her give her own answers to each one in turn.

Jo leans close to Bucky so she can hear him over the noise of the room, and he takes the opportunity to study her features more closely. He's practically mapped all of her face when her eyes leave his for a brief second and land on Sam, Sarah, and Danny staring at them from the table across the room.

"Don't look now," she whispers, leaning even closer, "But we seem to have an audience."

Bucky makes a big show of looking over his shoulder at the group.

"I said 'don't look!'" Jo laughs and swats casually at his arm.

Bucky takes the opportunity to pin her hand with his own, holding it tightly and licking his bottom lip before smiling at her. He can see the blush paint her cheeks and creep down her neck and chest.

He likes Jo, likes how easy it feels to be around her. He isn't used to that. He isn't used to feeling comfortable with people. Hell, he thinks, I barely feel comfortable with myself. But there's something about Jo that makes him feel safe and calm. Of course, there's attraction there — plenty of it — but he's sure it's more than that.

For her part, Jo is enamored with Bucky. She likes his hard edges and his snark, but she also likes the small glimpses he's given her of the man beneath all of that. She doesn't usually fall for people so easily, but she's found herself drowning in the sea of blues that make up Bucky's eyes, and she doesn't want to be rescued. How fucking cliche, she tells herself.

"We should probably go back over there," Bucky says, squeezing her hand once before releasing it.

They both stand and make their way back to the table. Bucky pulls Jo's chair out for her again, but this time, he makes sure to pull it a little closer to his chair in the process. This doesn't go unnoticed by Sam who smirks at him. Bucky returns the smirk with a thin-lipped smile of his own before scooting even closer to Jo.

Jo finds it hard to focus on the conversation in front of her with Bucky's warm body so close to her own, and she realizes she misses the pleasant feeling of his gloved hand around hers. She places her own hand on his thigh and hopes he gets the hint.

Bucky’s fascinated by even the slightest movements of Jo's tattooed fingers, and when her hand rests on his denim-clad thigh, he thinks the sight alone might kill him. Before he can second-guess himself, he pulls the glove off his right hand and links his own flesh and bone fingers with hers.

Jo doesn't look at Bucky — she's trying not to draw attention to her hand in his lap — but Bucky watches the corner of her mouth quirk upwards into a smile, and he squeezes her hand in response.

The conversation continues a bit longer before Danny leaves the table to check in with his bartender. Jo excuses herself to get another drink, and Bucky watches her pop behind the bar to fill a glass for herself.

"I need to get home, relieve the babysitter," Sarah says when she finishes her beer.

"We're heading out then," Sam says, then turns to Bucky, "You coming?"

Bucky looks toward Jo and says, "No, I'm gonna stick around. I'll get a cab back or get a hotel room in the city."

Sam smirks. "I don't think you're gonna need a hotel room, man."

Bucky rolls his eyes.

"Just promise me you'll use protection," Sam laughs. "We don't need any little super soldiers running around just yet."

Bucky gives him a sarcastic smile, but realizes Sam's probably right, and he definitely doesn't have any condoms in his wallet. He's not planning on sleeping with Jo tonight — he just met her, and he's not sure he's ready for that yet — but if the army taught him anything, it's to be prepared. As if reading his mind, Sam pulls out his wallet and places a condom in Bucky's palm before pulling him in for a hug and clapping him on the back.

"Have fun, man," Sam says.

Sam and Sarah say their goodbyes to Danny and Jo on their way out, and Bucky joins Jo at the bar, sitting on the barstool next to her where they sat earlier.

"Sticking around, soldier?" she asks. She reaches for his dog tags and tugs them gently. The drinks have been strong, and she's feeling more flirtatious than she would otherwise.

"If you don't mind," Bucky replies.

Jo smiles and reaches for his hand this time. "Not at all."

"Are you gonna finish your interrogation of me?" Bucky asks, amusement apparent in his voice.

Jo laughs in return. “I thought I'd read your palm instead," she says, turning his hand over in her own.

Bucky snorts but doesn't pull his hand away. "Is this a trick you use on all the guys?"

"And girls," Jo says, meeting his eyes. Then she studies his hand carefully, running her index finger across the lines that crisscross his palm.

"Your dominant hand," she continues, "determines your future, while your non-dominant hand is tied to your past."

Bucky snorts again at the truth of it all.

"I'm not making this up!" Jo laughs. "I mean, someone did, but I'm not!" She can see the laughter shining in Bucky's eyes, so she goes on, "Your head line is deep, meaning your thinking is clear and focused, but it's also curved downward which indicates a creative spirit and an appetite for literature and fantasy." She looks up at him, "Explains the love for Tolkien."

"I'm not sure I'm buying this," Bucky says.

"You've literally fought aliens, and you're gonna give me a hard time over palm reading," Jo laughs.

"The aliens were real," Bucky deadpans.

"And in New Orleans, palm reading and psychics and crystal balls and voodoo are real," Jo says, still laughing. "But I promise not to read your palm again or read your aura or get out the tarot cards."

Bucky likes the way her slight accent makes New Orleans sound more like Nawlins. He also likes the sound of her laughter and the way her face lights up when she smiles. She's still holding his hand in her own, so he turns his palm over in hers and brings her tattooed knuckles to his lips.

_____

Meanwhile, the bar closes, and Danny and the bartender clean glasses and close up for the night.

Danny points at Jo as he comes around the bar. "I’m locking up then heading upstairs," he says.

"Thanks, love," Jo replies.

Danny walks the bartender out and locks the front door, then retraces his steps to the back of the bar. On his way past Jo, he stops and kisses her on the cheek, saying, "Be good. And set the alarm."

He turns to Bucky. "And you, Sergeant Barnes," he says, pointing at him now, "I know you're an Avenger or whatever, but if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

"Bye, Danny," Jo says, rolling her eyes as he disappears through the door marked 'Employees Only.' "Don't worry about him," Jo says, turning back to Bucky.

“Older brother, right?” Bucky says. He understands; he was an older brother once.

“Twins, actually,” Jo smiles.

Bucky takes a sip of his beer. "Sarah said Danny served with Sam," he says.

"Yeah. Afghanistan. A lifetime ago," Jo says. “He only had one more mission before he could come home so he switched with someone. An RPG barely missed the helicopter he was in, and he was pretty badly injured in the explosion and the resulting crash. Almost lost an eye. He came home, got out of the Air Force, went to business school. Now we own the bar..." She pauses to take the last sip of her drink. "...and the building. Sam's really helped Danny get past everything."

"He's good at that," Bucky says.

"Another thing we can never tell him," Jo laughs.

"Agreed. So, when do I get to ask about your tattoos?" he questions.

"What do you want to know?" she asks.

Bucky licks his bottom lip. "Anything."

He likes her dagger tattoo the best. It’s inked on the inside of her right forearm, nestled amongst the peonies, the hilt facing the crook of her elbow and the knife’s tip pointed toward her wrist. It’s feminine and dangerous and incredibly sexy. She blushes when he tells her how much he likes it. He doesn't tell her it reminds him of one of his favorite knives, currently tucked at the bottom of his backpack back in Sarah's living room.

"In some ways, they're my armor," she explains. "When I'm on stage, people look at the tattoos, not me, and I kind of like that. It lets me be whoever I want to up there."

Bucky understands the desire to hide better than anyone. But she knows who he is so there's really no point in hiding from her any longer. Plus, he feels like his arm is something she would understand, something she could accept — not just because of her brother's military record but because of her own unique body modifications.

He pulls his left glove off and shrugs out of his leather jacket, revealing the vibranium arm beneath his black t-shirt.

Jo takes in the black metal and gold details. "That," she says, pointing to his arm, "is lovely."

"It's lethal," Bucky warns.

She cocks her head to the side and says, "If you're trying to scare me, it won't work, Sergeant Barnes."

Bucky can't stop the corner of his lip from pulling up in the slightest hint of a smile.

"Okay,” she says, placing her palms flat on the bar top. “You want another beer?" she asks.

Jo stands and turns to move behind the bar, but Bucky's vibranium hand on her arm stops her. She looks at him curiously, and he slides his arm behind her back and pulls her flush against his chest. She settles between his open thighs, her palms resting gently on top of his legs. He's staring at her so intensely she's convinced he willburn that hole right through her, but she can't bring herself to look away.

He leans in, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Can I kiss you?" Bucky finally asks, his flesh hand moving up to cup her cheek.

"Please," Jo whispers, desperately.

Bucky closes the distance between them, and his lips meet hers. He's hesitant at first, but when he feels Jo respond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing even closer, he runs his tongue along the seam of her lips until she opens them for him. She tastes like bourbon and lemon from the whiskey sours she's been drinking, and Bucky loves it. His tongue sweeps along the roof of her mouth, and Jo moans. Bucky is determined to hear that sound again.

He kisses across the corner of her mouth and over her jaw. The hand that was cupping her cheek moves to her hair to angle her head backwards and give him better access to the bare skin of her neck. He laves his tongue over the corded muscles there, then nips at the skin with his teeth. She moans again, and Bucky is on fire.

Jo's right hand weaves into his short hair and tugs until his mouth comes away from her neck. He catches his breath while Jo nuzzles his nose with her own and places a soft kiss against the Cupid's bow of his upper lip. His eyes meet hers, and her pupils are blown wide with lust.

The need to kiss her again is overwhelming. Bucky’s lips find hers, and Jo somehow leans even closer into his body, her hands tracing down his chest to his waist. Bucky lets his own hands move to Jo’s ribs, resting just beneath her chest, his thumbs teasing the underside of each breast. Jo gasps when Bucky’s right thumb moves across her taut nipple.

Fuck, he thinks, I need to slow down. While he’s shared kisses with the handful of women he’s met on dating apps, he hasn’t done anything this intimate in a lifetime.

Bucky pulls away, panting. He rests his forehead against Jo's and stares into her green eyes.

"I should leave," he says. “I’m getting carried away. I…I want to do this right.”

And he does. Desperately. He wants to buy her flowers and take her out and learn what makes her swoon. But he also wants to map every tattoo on her body with his fingers and tongue and then fuck her until she can’t walk straight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Jo laughs breathily. “We don’t have to do anything, but it’s almost three o'clock in the morning and your ride already left. You can sleep on my couch if you want to be a gentleman.”

Bucky groans. “I should be a gentleman."

She kisses him again, lightly, then moves away to set the alarm and turn the rest of the lights out. She leads him through the 'Employees Only' door and up a set of stairs to her apartment.

"You're not allergic to cats, are you?" Jo asks, as she unlocks the door.

"No," Bucky says. As far as he knows, he's not allergic to anything thanks to the knock-off serum, but he doesn't say that.

Inside her apartment, Jo kicks off her combat boots at the door, and Bucky does the same, leaving them both in their socked feet. There's a fluffy black cat sitting on the back of the green velvet sofa.

"That's Toulouse," Jo says. "Or Louie. He doesn't answer to either, so it really doesn't matter what I call him."

The cat regards Bucky with indifference before standing up, stretching, and leaving the room.

"Guest bathroom’s just there,” she nods. “Let me get you some blankets and pillows for the couch," Jo continues. "Unless you've changed your mind about being a gentleman." She smirks at him.

Bucky laughs through his nose. “Don’t tempt me.”

Jo leaves the room for a moment, which gives Bucky a chance to look around. He's standing in her living room; one wall features a set of French doors that lead to a balcony overlooking the street, and the opposite wall holds bookcases stuffed from floor to ceiling with books, framed photographs, and various knick-knacks. From where he stands, he can see a small room with an upright piano and guitars hanging on the walls. The exterior walls of Jo's apartment are brick, and everything else is set in jewel tones. He likes it. It's dark and cozy, and from what he knows of Jo so far, her living space matches her well.

When she returns, Jo is holding a stack of blankets and pillows. She sets them on the ottoman and moves across the room to close the curtains.

"There are some sweats and a t-shirt there that should fit you" she says, turning to Bucky.

"Thanks," Bucky says, smiling softly.

Now that they're here, in her apartment, Bucky isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. He can still feel the heat of Jo's lips on his, and he's painfully aware that the condom Sam gave him is still in his pocket.

Jo must sense the hesitation rolling off him because she crosses the room to stand in front of him and takes his hands in hers.

"Get some sleep, Sarge," she says, squeezing his hands in tandem before dropping them.

"Goodnight, Jo," Bucky returns.

_____

Bucky lays on Jo's couch in the dark beneath blankets that smell like laundry detergent. He wishes they smelled like her. He unlocks his phone and looks up the distance between New Orleans and Brooklyn. Just over thirteen hundred miles. He sighs and drops his phone onto the coffee table before closing his eyes and reliving each kiss as he falls asleep.

On the other side of the wall, Jo falls across her bed, deflated. She likes this guy. She wants him — painfully so. But leave it to her to fall for the one guy in her bar who lives half-way across the country.

_____

next chapter

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sergeant barnes #bucky barnes x oc #bucky x oc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes romance #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years ago

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note: Well hello my friends! Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?! STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers! This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share. As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story! Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl! Thanks lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request: @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc. References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go." Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe. It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know. It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it." Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words. Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate." Still, her compliment made you smile. It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers.

Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath. Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin. It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows. Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips. And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors. For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide. Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen. It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly." Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie! That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun. And, worse case? You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case. Worst case? He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh? And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin. She was right. Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head. Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly. You could do this. You wouldn't be alone. And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it. You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go? We're already stupid late."

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over? Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess. I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight. Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage. Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice. Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter. Truly."

"Aw! Really, Mr. Loki? Ya mean it?" That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do! Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party. The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap. Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night. Everything was brightly lit. Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling. Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice. On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible. A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza. Well, dozens of pizzas. The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam. Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice. Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket. Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank! Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!" Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest. No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them. Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything. Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up! Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room. So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there. You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion. Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system. At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off. It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet. Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing. Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk. Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands. Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you. Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you. “Oh. It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all. Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back. Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night. The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness. You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving. But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you. Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally. Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response. Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek. Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing. It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect. Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight. Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit. All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you. Soft, full skin under his broad palms. The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own. How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation. And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all. Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick. Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair. Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes. Your dream has come true.” Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them. He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it? I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s. I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself. The suit was totally of its time. Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe. His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white. Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account. The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress. The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall. In short, an avarice little asshole. So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement. Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now. And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh? Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh. No way. You would not be so easy to seduce this time around. Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again. Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous. Genuine, at least for you. And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much. He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag. Basic bitch? Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt. You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him. Loki couldn't want you. You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you. His soulful kisses that stole your breath. The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips. His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face. “I thought you said I was plain. Simple. Boring.”

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat. How could you think that? Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out? I believe that. And, let me tell you this-” Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.” Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will. In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable. Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion. Was he really going to indulge in this? Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together? Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere. Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again. Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring. Not at all! There was plenty to distract you and you let it. Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache. Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?” She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued, “Really? Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so. Was coming on awfully strong too. But… he’s been a jerk, right?”

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner. More of a lone wolf. In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to. Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit? And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to. Loki thinks I’m a bore? Too basic for him? Fine. I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually. Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile. There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!” There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match. Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man? You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend. You all remember this?” From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first. Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers. Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found. Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee. Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary. Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note. When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt. It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well? What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment. The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music. A drunken moment of clarity had descended. Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response. Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that. Not after what he’d said. Not after your one night together, right? But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.

Refusing didn't enter your mind. With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do. Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner. Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered. No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own. Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki. The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart. A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe? You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care.

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength. Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips. Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close. “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark. Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light. He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight. It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric. You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy. Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer. Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips. Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up. I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you. I don't care. Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body. Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own. Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard. Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain. Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch. Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess. But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot. Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention. He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs. “I just need to feel you, dove. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.” It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core. When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls. Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle. You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight. Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK! The sound made you both freeze. Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! What do we have here?” Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here? It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes. Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking. Very quietly.” When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing. Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips! We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends. You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes. Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way. Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet. Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling. “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things? That I was… boring? Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never. What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips. “Good. Good to know. Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really? I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.” Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.” Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation. Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.

“You’re welcome.” “Ah! Yes, many thanks Tony.”

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight! Treat her right.”

“Of course. I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries! No worries!” Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list: @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #1000followers #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #80's #80's loki #80's mcu

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girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years ago

Text

Lilies of the Valley IX

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

“A flower is beautiful in every state of life. I, however, find that it is most beautiful right before it blooms.”

Release Date: 06/15/20 @ 7 pm

previously ~ next

Her bout lasted a couple of days. YN could barely eat or sleep without fearing that the raging alpha would come after her, that her family didn’t want her anymore, that her mates were just dragging her along. These worries echoed loudly around her head, so loudly YN felt her ears ringing, but on the outside, she remained stoic. Emotionless. It worried her mates, but in her state of turmoil, she had begun to rely more on them. More than she was comfortable with, but it felt nice to be cared for - to be nurtured. They were in the living room some superhero movie playing on-screen, as they all lay on the floor. There were couches, but there wasn’t enough space for all eight of them - so the floor it was. The men, notably the alphas, had remained riled and their scent created a thick layer in the room. YN knew she shouldn’t enjoy it, but it was warm and soothed the negative thoughts in her head.

“Are you comfortable?” Taehyung looked up at her from her lap where his head was resting. They had become a lot more touchy as of late, but YN was starting to resign herself to the idea that this is what her life would be. She offered him a small smile, but from the way, his eyebrow arched YN knew Taehyung was unconvinced. His hand reached up, caressing her cheek gently. The tip of his fingers brushed her lips and YN couldn’t tell if it had been accidental or not. “You’ll have to organize my room next,” Taehyung spoke, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Ah, that.

Rosé had come to visit YN the day after everything happened to distract her when YN suddenly had the urge to rearrange her room. She couldn't describe it, but it had started when her eyes landed on her dresser and YN realized its position felt off. Once that had been fixed she didn't like the way her bed area seemed too crowded. Eventually, the whole room had been moved around and YN was even considering painting it when Jungkook had walked in looking rather perplexed. Rosé had laughed and simply muttered, "She's nesting." It hadn't ended there though as the dining room, office, and living room all had their layouts changed. None of them complained and she had an inkling they secretly enjoyed it. It meant she was becoming comfortable, starting to feel at home.

“Hyung, pay attention,” Jungkook complained, his eyes darting between the two of them before focusing back on the screen.

Taehyung rolled his eyes but did as told. YN's eyes drifted toward the clock on the wall, it was nearly midnight, though she didn't feel tired at all. Jimin and Yoongi had fallen asleep with the former curled up by Hoseok and the latter sharing Namjoon with Jungkook. In the span of a few minutes, Taehyung had closed his eyes and YN knew he too would be asleep soon. All the alphas remained awake each watching the movie with varying levels of interest. Seokjin shifted behind her, his hand tangling itself in her hair and making soothing circles. "What's wrong? Aren't you tired?" YN shook her head, preferring not to answer the first question. Seokjin leaned down and pressed a kiss on her shoulder, near the bite mark, before nuzzling his nose along her neck.

He was scenting her and despite the chills that traveled up her spine, it did relax her. Causing her to lean back onto the alpha’s chest while he smiled. “Tell us what’s wrong.” It felt more like an order than a suggestion, but Seokjin’s pheromones had spiked and their sweet scent lulled YN. Made her want to get closer. Feel more of him. Open up to him.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” It was Namjoon this time, when YN turned her head she found him closer than ever. A few inches away from her face. Fear bubbled up in her stomach but was washed away as Seokjin’s plump lips trailed kisses through her jawline. He was encouraging her to speak, to be honest, and YN was like an old dam. All she needed was a small crack - a leak - and she would burst.

“Of everything. Of you.”

“Of me?” Namjoon questioned, his brow twitching ever so slightly, but he didn’t look upset.

“Of all you.”

“Why?” The lead alpha asked again. Seokjin’s kisses became quicker, sloppier, and YN became aware of another presence near her. Hoseok’s hands softly moved up and down her sides, tickling her ever so slightly. It was all becoming a bit much.

“I don’t know.”

Namjoon tsked in disappointment. “I think you do know, just won’t admit it.” His hooded eyes trailed down her features, landing on her lips before moving back up to her eyes. YN was at a loss for words, unsure of everything. Another body joined them, YN felt warm breath hit her ear before Jungkook’s calm words reached them. “You’re safe. Don’t worry you’re safe.” His tone was soft, delicate, barely above a whisper as if he was afraid of scaring her. YN analyzed every bit of Namjoon’s face: his brows, almond eyes, strong nose, and his pink full lips.

"Namjoon -" In that second, Seokjin's teeth scraped against her scent gland - against her bite mark - and YN couldn't stop the moan that tore through her lips. Reacting instinctively Namjoon closed the distance between them, his lips brushing hers in a passionate fervor. They were anxious, desperate as if he had been waiting forever. As if he was afraid she would disappear soon. The second his lips touched hers YN melted. A warm fuzzy feeling overtaking her and she felt complete. As their kiss continued YN began to wonder if this was what the bond felt like. If this is how the other's felt around each other. Surely it must be it. It feels like a warm hug, soft pillows, the crackling of a fire. It would be gone soon but it felt nice to have experienced it.

When they finally parted YN felt content, which was unusual in the presence of the men, she expected Namjoon to feel the same. But when she glanced up at his eyes she saw something different. His pupils were extremely dilated and there was something animalistic about how Namjoon stared at her. He looked as if he had just taken a bite out the forbidden fruit and wanted more.

She hadn’t reorganized Taehyung’s room much to the betas displeasure, but YN had spent the entire lounging next to the pool. She wasn’t planning on going swimming, but still laid under the sun with a blue dress covering her shoulders. YN had always preferred being alone, even before presenting she had been pretty introverted, it simply became worse after. The scent of lilies hit her nose and YN subconsciously smiled, she had always enjoyed flowers for they represented a simpler time for her. Her school had a garden filled with lilies and the various flowers had been so beautiful to her. Having them planted in the backyard was a nice touch, but she couldn’t figure out the significance of them to the men. Why lilies? Her mind briefly wandered towards what the tattoo artist had said: that she smelled like lilies. Jungkook had even encouraged a lily tattoo but it couldn’t possibly be because of her that they’d planted those.

YN shook her. That’d be ridiculous. She closed her eyes, enjoying how the sun felt on her skin before a dark shadow blocked it. “Mind if we join?” Jimin stood in front, Yoongi by his side, and YN heard a big splash before seeing Taehyung emerge from the pool. “Sure.” Jimin smiled before scooping down and pecking her lips. It shocked her, to say the least, but Jimin simply chuckled before joining Taehyung in the pool. Yoongi took a seat next to her, his lounge chair barely a feet away, but YN was grateful that he simply laid down and closed his eyes. It gave her time to think.

There had been a shift between them since the incident, but YN assumed that it was mainly them being overprotective. After last night’s kiss, and subsequently Jimin’s kiss, she wasn’t so sure anymore. It was true that without another alpha willing to mate YN was stuck with them and the longer she spent with them, the less bothered she was by it. What did concern her was how giddy they were. This morning YN had been dragged out by Jungkook to have breakfast with all of them and they all seemed excited. It gave her whiplash and YN didn’t know if she wanted the relationship to progress at such a rapid rate. Her hand flew up to massage her temples as she felt a growing headache.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi was leaning over now, a concerned look on his face. “Nothing,” YN replied, though her delivery may have been a bit harsh. Instead of flinching or becoming upset Yoongi reached massaging her neck before kissing her forehead tentatively. “There. All better.” YN wanted to ask Yoongi what was going on but was interrupted by Hoseok coming out of the house. Namjoon trailing behind him.

“Ready to go?” YN briefly wondered what he meant before remembering what Namjoon had mentioned during breakfast. “I rescheduled the doctor’s appointment for this afternoon. It’ll be a little late because we have to get some work done.” YN excused herself from the beta’s not missing the way they pouted.

“Lily wait!” YN skidded to a stop to see Taehyung running at her at full speed, the droplets of water glistening as they fell oof his body. Once he reached her, YN expected Taehyung to kiss her the way Jimin had, but instead, he kissed her bite mark. Laughing at her expression before salaciously winking. The others only chuckled at him before Jimin called him back to the pool claiming he was lonely. YN walked back towards Namjoon and Hoseok finding pleased expressions on both their faces. She took a deep breath before sighing loudly.

“C’mon YN. Let’s go.”

Sorry this chapter kind of sucked, but I promise the next one will be incredibly important.

Tag List:

@hxsxxk-180294 @saxpam24 @trixsterbi @mel-gonzalez07 @cstobitk @dionysus-png @taekimxx @moonlitehunter @joonie-grim @wonderlace19 @sugashaye @rosey-roseu @mintaemark @ciderxi @soloikeadates @alex--awesome--22 @ruth619 @tinger-k @thenyousaidhello @missseoulite @justdidabadthing@ireallylikefoodandyoutube @letmebeyour-sun @lyoongx @kpopfictrash @purpuravm

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captaingondolin · 4 years ago

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(Rexwalker + Anidala polyam they know about each other and are chill. i wrote this while ignoring a mile long list of to dos. i am made of stress and denial so i am giving these characters time to relax.)

The air inside 79s was always too hot, subpar air filters never quite keeping up with the mass of bodies confined into the small space. If it was warm enough, people would spill out onto the balcony, the low beats of the music reaching even outside.

Rex had stopped noticing the smell of spilled liquor and sweat after less than ten minutes inside. The heat, however, was starting to get to him. But maybe that was just Anakin plastered against his side.

There had been a few curious glances in their direction, natborn officers and Jetii being uncommon sights at 79s, but Anakin was with him and no one questioned them. Jesse had winked at him from the table he shared with Kix, before going back to his own drink.

Anakin’s hair was tickling his neck, and Rex looked down at where his riduur was slumped against his shoulder.

“I might have had one too many,” Anakin admitted, lifting his empty glass and giving a half shrug, somehow without dislodging himself from Rex’s shoulder. “Everything is spinning and I think I’m hearing more of people’s thoughts than I should.”

Rex knew that no Jedi, not even Anakin could read thoughts piecemeal, like a written text or an overheard conversation. But Anakin was highly sensitive to feelings, attuned to perceiving changing moods or absorbing strong images or sensations people might be projecting, and he knew Rex would understand his shorthand. When he was tired or, like in this case, drunk, filtering out the noise of the world became harder.

“Let’s get you home, then,” Rex said.

He might have hoped for a longer night, but they were coming from a long, thankless, bloody campaign, and he understood better than most the temptation of numbing it all down. Anakin had had to carry him back to the barracks a few times before, and her was more than happy to return the favour.

“Do you...” Anakin started, then mumbled something inaudible.

Rex gave him time to collect his thoughts.

“You know I love you, right?” he said after a moment, pushing himself upright to look Rex in the eye.

“Should I be worried?” Rex joked, ignoring the flutter of joy he always, always felt at those words.

Anakin pouted, and Rex couldn’t help but kiss that insufferable, beautiful pout.

“Do you, I mean, would you. Do you want to come to Padmé’s? I really miss her, but I don’t want to be without you.”

Rex hesitated. He hadn’t spent that much time with the Senator. They had a near-death experience together with the blue shadow virus, which had led to awkward confessions and a renewed mutual respect, but that was the extent. Despite sharing something incredibly important and precious, they weren’t exactly close. Rex didn’t know exactly how she felt, but he often feared overstepping, and he made a conscious effort not to monopolise Anakin’s time when they were on leave.

“Are you sure she’d be okay with this?” Rex wasn’t sure if he meant the late hour, the last minute call, or his own presence in her house.

Colour rose even more on Anakin’s cheeks. “She said... she offered. She wasn’t sure you wanted to and didn’t want to pressure you, but... And I felt so awkward! I love you both so much, but I don’t know if...” he made a vague gesture that added absolutely nothing to his babbling, but somehow, Rex understood him.

It was, in a way, like inviting Anakin to 79s. Rex loved his brothers, and he wanted Anakin to spend time with him in one of the places where he got to be himself. But there was friction. Anakin wasn’t exactly part of that world, much like Rex wasn’t part of Amidala’s. He worried for a moment about what they were going to do after the war - if they both... No, he wasn’t going to go there.

“Let’s give her a call and see if she wants to deal with your drunk ass, or I’m dropping you on Kenobi’s doorstep and washing my hands of you,” Rex said, a little more gruffly than he intended. But Anakin was smiling at him like he hung the moon and stars.

They walked - more like wobbled - outside and found a corner where they wouldn’t be overheard to make the call.

“Ani!” Padmé said with a bright smile that made her look so young. Or maybe just like herself, instead of the ageless effigy she presented to the world.

Her smile didn’t dim when she saw Rex, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Captain. Is Anakin being a nuisance?”

“Hey, I resent that! I am a kriffing delight to be around!”

Padmé and Rex laughed at him, but fondly and without malice, and Anakin sighed, tragic and put upon.

“Once you two have finished laughing at me... Padmé, would you... can we...”

She came to his rescue. “Would you like to come over? Both of you?”

Padmé is waiting for them at the door - Rex notices not even her protocol droid is around, and appreciates the discretion. He’s sure there must be at least one guard somewhere on this floor, but they are alone in the apartment.

Anakin bends down to kiss Padmé. He’s tall, and he needs to angle down to kiss Rex too, but Padmé is surprisingly tiny up close. She has such a large presence, it’s easier to forget her actual height. Rex wonders idly how it feels, to be so visible and yet so invisible.

He can see her lips curl up, smiling into the kiss, her eyes blissfully close. Anakin tangles a hand into her hair, cascading freely down her back, unconstrained by headpieces or jewels, and Rex realises the level of trust she is showcasing by receiving him like this - not as Senator Amidala, but just Padmé, without her own form of armour and armour-paints.

“Come on,” she says after a moment, lips red and well-kissed, and takes them to the living room.

They all sit on a large sofa, Anakin between them looking pleased and a little nervous. Rex can relate.

Padmé offers them drinks and asks about their plans for their leave. She does not ask about the fighting, the campaign they just left behind. She does not ask about where they will be assigned next. Their conversation stays in the small confines of a few days of dirtside leave, and it’s surprisingly comforting. Rex tries to imagine them into a bubble, the galaxy outside nothing but a muted memory.

“You with us, Rex?” Anakin asks him.

He is still staring into his glass of muja juice. “Mh?”

Then he realises the other two had stopped talking and raises his eyes. “Sorry. I was just thinking... It’s nothing.”

It’s stupid, he thinks. The bubble bursts, the outside world filters back in. It’s all well and good to enjoy leave, but this it all this is: a moment respite, a parenthesis in a history of war. Rex knows no other life and maybe he never will.

Anakin takes his hand and just holds it, waiting in silence. Padmé peers over at him, frowning. “Would you like to talk,” she asks, “Or to be left alone? Or do you want to talk just with Anakin?”

She disentangles herself from Anakin and is about to stand up, when Rex stops her. “No, no. I’m not about to... this is your house. I’m not going to kick you out from your own living room. Maybe I should go.”

Anakin’s fingers tighten around his, but before he can say a word, Padmé is standing in front of him. “Rex. I like to think we will be friends, one day, but I can’t presume to know you yet, and I have no right to your every thought. Please. Let me give you some space.”

There is vice around Rex’s throat and he can only nod. He watches her go, her ridiculously long, impractical blue robe trailing after her, and he almost calls her back. He wants her to know how he feels.

But he isn’t sure she would understand, and he isn’t ready to risk it yet. So he spills his heart to Anakin, who is ready to receive it all. Anakin always promises him they will both see the end of the war, and sometimes Rex gets angry at him for that. Anakin isn’t babying him, he truly believes that, but Rex can’t always accept the weight of that hope. Tonight, though, he leans with his forehead against Anakin’s chest, and lets him caress his head, his back, and talk promises of peace.

“I will keep you safe. I will keep you all safe,” Anakin promises, bright and impossible, and Rex believes him.

Padmé comes back after a while with hot chocolate and cookies. They eat and drink and Padmé gets a cream moustache and does a frighteningly accurate imitation of Admiral Yularen that makes Anakin laugh until there are tears in his eyes. Rex, who is maybe still a little bit tipsy, does Obi-Wan. Padmé is gasping for air and accusing him of having a recording of Master Kenobi hidden somewhere.

“I’ve just been present for many of General Kenobi’s lectures. Somehow,” he side eyes Anakin, “Someone always ends up prompting them.”

“I am a victim!” Anakin says, and keep laughing.

It gets late enough that the conversation slows down and they are all yawning more than they are talking, and Rex thinks it’s time to go.

“You should stay, Rex. Stay for breakfast. Mon brought me a giant box of chandrillan spiced chocolate pastries that I will never be able to finish on my own. Unless of course you’ll be needed too early tomorrow?”

Rex can see through the flimsi thin excuse, and he appreciates the easy way out. Which he should take. He should go and leave Anakin alone with his wife. He should go back to the barracks in case he was needed. Should, should, should.

“I would love to,” his traitorous voice says, lower and more uncertain than he has ever sounded. “Stay, I mean.”

“I’ll go find some spare sleeping clothes,” Anakin offers helpfully, then winks - winks! the shameless flirt - at him, “I’m sure you won’t mind.”

Padmé looks between them, the faintest pink colouring her cheeks. “I’ll show you to the guest room,” she says, standing up and beckoning him to follow.

The guestroom is, as expected, far bigger than necessary and with its own attached fresher.

When Anakin fails to come back, Padmé goes in search of him. Rex hears a faint laughter, and Padmé reappears with some folded clothes. “He passed out face down on the bed.”

She hands him the clothes and her small, soft hand touches his. He smiles at her and wishes her goodnight.

And it is. For tonight, still, they are at peace.

#gondolin writes #fic #rexwalker #anidala #polyamory #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #captain rex #my tag #maybe i'll re read this #some day #i think i fucked up tenses #rex pov #tcw #rarepair #my fic

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beyscape · 5 years ago

Text

The Intern - 3

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: Being Andy’s intern meant you got to spend more time by his side more than anyone. This was fine, however, until feelings got in the way and made things complicated

Word Count: 4114 (oh boy)

Warnings: SMUT, pure filth, age gap, technically cheating, swearing and all that jazz

A/N Contains spoilers from episodes 1-5.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Getting the day off wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Neal was busting his ass trying to prove Jacob was guilty and he wasn’t particularly fond of you, you knew if it had been up to him you would be sent packing the day Andy was forced to leave. So, when you approached him to get the day off, you didn’t even need to use the ‘family emergency’ card. In his eyes, you were just a disposable intern who had spent too much time with Andy fucking barber for his liking. You pursed your lips, not wanting to think of work as you waited for Andy’s black car to pick you up.

You looked around the silent neighbourhood, your small backpack sitting on the pavement next your feet. First rays of sun were illuminating the whole street with a soft light, the early morning chill wiping the last bits of sleep from your eyes. In the one time you had a proper chance to see Andy that past week, you had decided to drive up to Connecticut early Friday morning, careful not to get caught. The plan was to visit Andy’s father in prison, then hang out together before driving back home under the cover of the night. You were busy kicking a small rock and keeping yourself entertained when you spotted Andy’s car turning the corner.

“Hi baby girl.” Andy gave you one of those smiles you so loved seeing on his face, but you could still see the shadows lingering in his eyes.

“Hi.” You leaned in to peck him on the lips. Before you could pull back and get comfortable on your seat however, Andy pulled you back in with a hand sneaking down to your waist, holding you tight. His hot lips never leaving yours, he ran a hand down your back, as if to soothe down the shivers that were also caused by him. He loosened his grip ever so slightly as he moved to look at your face, a grin plastered on his face.

“What?” You questioned, yet your face mirrored his.

“I really like you is all.” Andy faintly remembered the excitement of a new relationship from almost sixteen years ago, everything seemed different and shiny in those first moments, but there was something else he didn’t quite recognize in his heart too. Something that made him believe everything would be okay as long as he had you by his side, despite everything.

“How do you not know this song? It’s impossible you don’t know.” Andy shook his head with a small laugh of disbelief escaping his lips.

“Alright old man, I’m picking the next song.” You stuck your tongue out at him thinking he wouldn’t see it as he focused on driving, you were wrong. You yelped in surprise when Andy reached out and flicked your nose without even looking at you, the corners of his eyes crinkled with a rare, completely genuine smile.

It was so easy to laugh and forget about everything clouding over your heads as you drove further away from Newton, and ignoring the end of your destination, it was a much-needed change of pace.

“Let’s do this again sometime. I know it’s hard with how things are now, but in the future.” You watched the scenery roll by with occasional stolen glances at the man sitting next to you.

“Do what, baby girl?”

“Take a road trip. Leave Newton and our jobs, our labels for a while. Go someplace where you are not a married man and I’m not your intern.” You sighed.

“As you wish.” He looked at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. “I know how much things suck right now, but I promise you, it will all end soon. We will get Jake off the hook; we’ll finally get the divorce that should’ve happened year ago and… We’ll be alright.” His right hand found yours over the console, gripping tightly.

“I trust you.” After a year of working together night and day, you knew that when Andy Barber made a promise, he made sure to keep his word. So, you knew, eventually, you would be alright.

After one stop to get some gas and morning snacks, your car rolled into the facility in the middle of the lush greenery. The closer Andy got to facing his father he had tried his whole life to distance himself from, he grew quiet. He would still give you small smiles with the corner of his mouth or engage in whatever conversation you started to help him relax, his joyful mood from earlier was gone.

“For Jake,” he had muttered more to himself than you, reminding himself why he couldn’t turn the car back around and drive as far as he could, away from the dreaded conversation. He placed a lingering kiss on your forehead before heading inside the building, in the manner of a silent thank you.

You were messing around with your phone maybe for fifteen minutes when Andy’s sulking figure made its way towards the car, he shook his head negatively when your eyes met, and that was all you needed to know your little mission had failed. You drove back the road you came in silence, the only sound being the low humming of the car engine.

“Fucking asshole.” Andy filled you in before digging into the burger sitting in front of him. It was a classic off the road diner, the kind frequented by the tired drivers at all kinds of odd hours.

“I can’t believe he refused. He sounds like a real piece of shit. Even without the whole murder thing, I mean.”

Andy snorted. “That’s one way to put it. We’ll simply have to skip it.”

“You know Neal will bring it up in trial and try to use it.” You reminded him, that was what you would do had the case been different.

“It’s bullshit.” You stuffed your face with the side of fries as you nodded in agreement. It was complete bullshit, and you could feel the frustration of a parent radiating from across you.

“Do you wanna spend the night here? I really don’t want to go back and deal with Lau- I mean, I don’t wanna deal with this tonight.” You looked up in surprise. Seeing right through him even with him trying to play it cool, it was obvious him and Laurie would get into another fight over this. Your heart sped up at the thought of spending the night together, away from all the things keeping you apart.

“I would like that very much.” Your knees touched under the table, your gazes locked, both feeling the electric contact and not making any move to break it.

Twenty minutes of driving around was all it took before you stumbled on a small town, where you spent the rest of the afternoon together. Hand in hand, feeling more free than you had in weeks, you walked through the town. It was a great feeling, being able to be a couple out in the public without everyone knowing who you were and looking at you with judgement in their eyes. You looked at Andy, golden hair shining under the sun that peeked behind the clouds, and for a moment you were reminded of a time without his son’s future in the line. It was a selfish thought, but you didn’t want to go back. With his arm around you, holding you secure to his chest, you were content.

After a rather quick and clipped call to Laurie and an excuse of car trouble, you made your way towards the motel on the outskirts of the town. It wasn’t the best-looking motel, it was definitely not where Andy had originally wanted to bring you to, however it seemed to be only option. So, the two floored motel with its orange painting chipped at parts would have to do. That, sleeping in the car or worse, going back to Newton were your only choices, and you both were fast to agree on the first option.

“A room for two, please.” Andy reached into the pocket of his dark coat to grab his wallet. Knowing the stubborn nature of his, you made no protest to pay although you weren’t too happy. The girl who didn’t look older than twenty looked up from behind the reception desk and eyed you up.

“Name?”

“Andy Barber.” She nodded, typing fast on the keyboard before reaching back for the wall of keys.

“Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Barber. Room 204.” The girl turned back to her phone after sliding the key towards Andy.

“We-” You began, startled at the assumption although a part of you gushed at the name, but stopped at the shaking of Andy’s head. He couldn’t contain his laughter much more as he led you up to your room for the night, the sound was contagious. You noticed this was the first time he had laughed like that in what felt like a forever, you couldn’t help but join him.

The room was what you expected, the crème coloured walls almost looking yellow due to the lamps sitting on each side of the bed. The bed, occupying most of the small room was covered with pink and blue flower design bedding that looked like it was left there during the 80s.

“I’ll go wash up.” Andy muttered before heading into the bathroom, you dropped your backpack on the floor next to the night stand. You removed your coat, and then your sweatshirt, suddenly feeling too hot despite the room’s temperature being on the cool side. No, it wasn’t the weather itself, you mused as you eyed the bed, but rather the fact that for the first time, you had the whole night alone with Andy Barber. Not a stolen moment, afraid of getting caught. Here, you were just Y/N and Andy. You could do anything you wanted without a single worry on your minds. You gingerly sat on the bed, fiddling with the end of your tank top.

Andy stepped out of the bathroom a moment later, stopping right at the door upon seeing you. He eyed you up and down, so very slow you felt his gaze burn through you, a smirk spreading over his lips. You gulped quietly, but not breaking the stare.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, and two long strides later he was right in front of you. He placed a finger underneath your chin to tilt your head and make you look up to him.

“Maybe.” You drawled, the tips of your fingers tracing his thigh up and down.

With a hiss Andy leaned down, his lips crashing onto yours in a way you never were kissed before. His large hands cupped your ass as he scooted you to the middle of the bed, not breaking the heated kiss. You moaned when your back met the surprisingly soft mattress but it was muffled with his warm lips never leaving yours, and Andy was on top of you in a matter of seconds. More and more and more was all you could think of, hands roaming on his broad back wildly in a desperate effort to pull him closer than he already was.

You wanted to feel his skin under your hands, run them through his toned muscles and get rid of all the unnecessary layers between you, Andy knew what you wanted as you tugged the hem of his shirt. You took in a deep breath when he pulled back only for a second to throw his shirt to a corner of the room, your eyes wandered on his abs and strong arms, he looked down at you with the same hunger in his eyes. You looped a finger around the waist of his jeans, tugging them down with hurried movements and fumbling hands, aching to have all of him. He chuckled at you before slipping his jeans off and sending them to accompany his shirt, now all that was left was his boxers and the silver necklace he always had on him. You bit your lips at the sight in front of you, gently running a hand down his length.

A breathy sound escaped Andy’s lips and they were back on yours, with a quick move Andy swapped your positions. Now, you leaned down to kiss him with your hands going down to unbutton your jeans, the need of getting closer and feel him against your skin almost driving you crazy. You followed suit and slid them off along with your tank top, left only in your lace bra and matching panties. Even though this night was quite spontaneous, you were secretly hoping for such a night and patted yourself on the back mentally for coming prepared.

“Shit, baby girl, you drive me crazy.” Andy ran a hand down the side of your body, stopping on your thighs. You shivered at his touch; Andy pulled you closer to his chest once again. Sitting on his lap, you shifted as you felt him press against you, rock hard. His hands were everywhere, exploring and marking his way as they ran through your hair, your back, the length of your legs… You couldn’t decide if this was pure torture or the best feeling in the world. Maybe a little bit of both.

You got up and lay on your back in the middle, pulling Andy in by the waistband of his boxers, almost begging to be pushed down. He supported himself above you on his elbows, leaving sloppy, wet and warm kisses down the trail of your neck.

“These,” he whispered against the warmth of your skin between kisses, “have to go.” In one swift moment your bra was gone. He placed a kiss to the curve of your breast, so close you felt his hot breath hit your nipples already hard with pleasure. You threw your head back with a whimper as his tongue teased and toyed with you, getting so close before wandering down your stomach.

With each kiss he went lower and lower, but never reaching the one place you wanted him the most. Before long you were a mess under him, with his tickling lips and wandering hands you prayed you would survive the night.

“Andy, please,” another whimper left you as lips connected with the inner parts of your soft thighs, dangerously close.

“That’s right baby girl, tell me what you need.” You felt his smirk on your skin.

“I need, I,” you sighed feeling his fingers toy with the band of your panties, “I need you.”

“Tell me how, and you have me sweetheart. I’m right here.”

“I need you in me, please, Andy,” You shut your eyes, unable to stop the curling of your toes as he ran a finger down your slit, still not making any move to remove the final layers between you. He enjoyed teasing you, seeing you moan and whimper completely begging for his touch was something he never knew how much he needed.

His rough hands finally tugged down the last piece of cloth covering you, leaving you utterly bare and under his control in front of him. Andy felt himself twitch, unable to keep teasing you as the urge to have you took over him.

You opened your eyes to see what he was doing, and the sight you met with almost made you gasp. There he was, fully naked; your eyes trailed down his pecks to his abs, and then to his cock. Standing proud and hard, you took in his length and girth with a hunger in your eyes.

“I need you. Now.” You reached your hand towards him, eager to pull him close and hopefully never let go.

“As you wish.” He lowered himself down, giving you a long kiss as a hand slipped between your legs. You shuddered at the tease of his hand, feeling him play with your clit send electric waves through your whole body. A finger slid in you, then another one, picking up the pace until Andy was satisfied with the wetness dripping down his hand. Placing a soft kiss on your knee he pushed them open, positioning himself before you. He ran his wet fingers down his shaft and his tip, lathering himself well.

Another soft moan escaped your lips as you felt his tip tease your entrance mercilessly, just wanting to feel Andy fill you already.

“Ready?” He asked, you found yourself unable to form words in that moment of euphoria so you just nodded.

Seeing you under him, already a mess for him, Andy swallowed. He took one moment to look you up and down, wanting to burn this moment well into his memory and never forget it. In that moment, he was overcome with such desire, such passion that with a grunt he pushed himself in. Any small thought of protection flew from his mind upon that feeling, leaving no trace behind as all he could think was how good it felt to be in you.

“Fuck.” He moaned and pushed a little bit more inside you. A part of him wanted to fuck you senseless then and there, but the less animalistic and more caring part of him scanned your face for any sign of discomfort. It was a tight fit already and Andy feared hurting you, damn the passion blinding him.

“I’m good,” you breathed out, noticing his peering gaze. You ran a hand down his thigh. “More.”

Andy happily obliged, slowly pushing all of his length in with a grunt deep in his throat.

“You feel so fucking good. Such a good girl you are, Y/N.” He lowered his body down on his elbows to give you a kiss. You felt his tongue push in, penetrating and filling your mouth just as you felt his cock pulse in you. He pulled back ever so slightly, pushing a strand of hair fallen on your forehead.

He started moving slowly at first, allowing you get comfortable with him. Even though you claimed you were okay, Andy planned on using the precious alone time you had as well as he could, so your comfort was of upmost importance for him to execute his plans.

Andy picked up his pace, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into you, each time sending waves of pleasure crash through you as your moans synchronized with his moves. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer and deeper as the wet sound and your whimpers mixed with his grunts and the occasional ‘fuck’ that slipped between his lips and onto your skin. Your nails left hot red marks down his back, sending Andy into a whole new level of frenzy.

You couldn’t resist the orgasm threatening to rock through you any longer, you gave in to the feeling as you arched your back, all kinds of incoherent sounds and words glided out of your lips. Feeling you tighten around him and the sweet sounds you made underneath him made Andy shiver as he slammed into you time and time, the rocking of hips becoming sloppier and rougher with each time.

One of your hands pulled at his hair, the other wrapped tightly around his shoulder, your body shook to his rhythm. His trail of wet kisses down your breasts and the teasing tongue left you purring against him, never wanting this night to come to a stop.

Andy swore under his breath as he pulled out, you drew inhaled sharply at the sudden emptiness, disappointed and needing much more of him. He gave you a look as if to say ‘I know’ before pulling you up and on top of him as he now lay in the position you were in mere seconds ago. You purred against him, peppering kisses on his face, your fingers playing with his tip.

“How does it feel to be teased, Mr. Barber?” Your hand gripped one of his balls, satisfied with the moan you got in response.

“Fuck, ride me, baby girl, come on.” He swallowed once. Twice.

You positioned yourself, hoovering just above his tip, originally wanting to tease him longer but couldn’t resist the urge to lower yourself down and feel him fill you up once more. Slowly you guided yourself down on his shaft, mouth open as you did so, Andy’s hands cupping your ass and helping you.

Soon you were fucking yourself on him, Andy’s fingers gripping you so tightly you were sure it would leave a mark. You didn’t care.

The downright sinful sounds coming from Andy fueled you to pick up your pace, chasing your orgasm. The eagerness of making Andy cum and please him like the good girl he called you was a close second in terms of motivation.

“Are you tired, huh?” Andy managed to let out, grabbing your ass to push you up and down on him. He pulled you under, kneeling as he kept pushing in and out with his hands holding your knees.

“Shit sweetheart.” His sigh echoed as stars began flying in front of your eyes, hot white pleasure claiming you for the second time, you winced when Andy pulled out sharply, stroking himself and shuddering as he finally reached his own release, white thick ropes of cum splattering on your breasts and stomach.

He looked at you with sparks in his eyes, a dumb grin on his handsome face, you chuckled at his expression. A gentle hand reached out, caressing your cheek with a look full of adoration. No words were needed as you hastily cleaned up yourselves, wanting to go back to one another’s arms without any more delays. You had waited long enough.

You lay your head on his chest as a strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, his second hand running through your hair with soft strokes. Your hand lay on his chest too, right above his heart, a tired smile danced on your face as you felt the steady beat of his heart.

Andy looked down slightly at your face, at the happiness he could so easily read, and felt his heart tug with emotion. You were here, in his arms, and he felt so damn lucky.

His.

Andy smiled.

When was the last time he allowed himself to be this happy? Sure, he was happy when he won a case, though it always was shadowed because of the long and exhausting hours he pulled. He was happy at his home, with his family, but the problems of his marriage ran deep and even though he loved Jake with all of his heart, he couldn’t deny the fact that sometimes he dreaded to go home. But now, here, in this moment his heart swell with pure joy and affection towards the young woman he held in his arms. He couldn’t believe it. He used to think maybe he had done something to piss universe off. That’s why things never fully looked up for him.

Maybe the universe wasn’t so bad after all.

“Thank you.” He muttered in a quiet voice, his fingers drawing shapes on your arm.

“For what?” You raised your head slightly to face him. You caught your breath at the sudden closeness, and the way his eyes looked like deep pools of blue you wanted to dive in.

“For everything. For being by my side, I guess. You have no idea how much you mean to me.”

“If it’s anything like how I feel for you, I think I have some idea.” You leaned in to share a slow kiss, unlike those of passion some time ago, this one stirred the deepest of emotions within you. A promise, it was.

You talked of all kinds of things in that embrace, with hushed voices not caused by fear or getting caught, but caused by the level of intimacy. In that moment, where limbs were entangled and pressed together under the god-awful floral print you both laughed about, you didn’t even need words.

You weren’t exactly sure when you fell asleep with your head still resting on Andy’s chest, but you knew when you woke up. You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the dark room, head snapping towards Andy upon the sound hitting your ears. It was faint, sounded like muttering and whimpering, you searched the face of the man laying beside you when it hit you: he was having a nightmare.

“Hey, Andy,” you called out his name softly, “come on, love.” You coaxed him out of sleep, gently running a hand through his hair in the hopes of calming him down. His eyes snapped open with a small gasp, eyes looking around in fear for a split second.

“It’s me,” you got his attention, hard breathing of his chest calming down with your touch, “I got you.”

“Oh, Y/N.” He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. You pulled him close this time, resting his head on your chest as you hugged him, dropping kisses on his head, along his hairline, on the creases that made home above his eyebrows. Just as you thought Andy was back asleep because of his steady breath, he spoke.

“It’s my father.” Was all he needed to say, and you understood him, understood how hard it was for him to open up about the very thing he escaped from confronting his whole life.

“I know, sweetheart. I got you.” You muttered again and again, determined to make him believe and know that you meant what you said. His arms tightened around your waist as you closed your eyes, hand still combing through his soft hair. Neither asleep, you laid there until the first streaks of sun began to invade the room, reminding you both the dreaded car drive back to Newton was closer than you liked. You pushed that thought to the furthest corner of your mind as you turned your focus on the man between your arms, and let sleep wash over you like a cold blanket.

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5 a.m on the dot as I post this, whew! I’m incredibly rusty in smut writing, so help me practice and send some requests, huh? My inbox is open for requests, feedback and all kinds of asks!

#chris evans #andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #defending jacob #defending jacob fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #andy barber smut

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digitalworldbound · 3 years ago

Note

koukari 24 or kenkari 30? sorry for the challenge :p but if you're not comfortable with the pairings, go ahead with takari! :3

Pairing: ken x hikari

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 from the prompt list)

Author’s Notes: I was revisiting my old fanfiction from when I was thirteen, and it reignited my love for cheesy AUs. So, I present to you my first ever KenKari content (I apologize if it is bad, but I've tried my best!)

on the corner of thompson rd. and fifth street stood a quaint structure with walls that appeared to sag and well-worn stairs. a seemingly hand-painted sign hung above the door way read : ♡ book 'n' brew ♡

in full honestly, the crooked hearts would of been enough to draw ken in completely had he not been on a search for a new coffee joint. earlier that september morning, a bug placed strategically in his starbucks cup stirred up the motivation to search for a more tasteful choice in brew.

mindless trotting about lead him to the worn, brick steps. many customers were slightly deterred by the haggard appearance of the building, but ken thought otherwise.

it was charming and smelled of home. plus, the little pink hearts were hard to dismiss.

pulling the smooth handle and trapping the chilly air behind him, ken opened the door and stepped in.

the store was quite small, as expected, but seemingly transported him away. warm fairy lights hung on the edges of tall, oak bookcases. the lights made ken’s dark cerulean eyes dance with wonder. while the oak cases were aging, they were sturdy. books lined the shelves in every way imaginable. when the books filled up the shelves vertically, the left-overs were placed haphazardly in the spaces between, whether that be on top of, in front of, or behind other books. the smell of well-loved pages filtered through the air, mixing with the smell of freshly brewed something.

the coffee! ken reminded himself.

humming a mindless tune under his breath, he made is way to the countered that was nestled in between two bookcases. plants, napkins and even more books littered the counter top. the owner, however, was nowhere to be found.

"hello?" ken’s crystalline voice called out.

"how may i help you?"

ken made a noise of surprise, not expecting the light, feminine voice to come from behind him.

a girl emerged from behind one of the bookcases, her hair swept to the side and held in place with a barrette. she looked ethereal in her loose dress, the extra fabric making her look like a bird ready for flight. she coughed quietly, her amber eyes drilling into his own with curiosity.

blush erupted like wildfire across ken’s cheeks. the tips of his ears burned in embarrassment. he was caught staring, but the stranger’s beauty was disarming.

"so?" the owner lightly suggested, a gentle reminder that ken still had yet to respond to her initial question.

"oh, yes! i was wondering if you had any coffee?" he finally spoke up. all too late, he realized his mistake. a flush rose to his neck, and ken had half the mind to run out of the store and never return.

raising an arched eyebrow, the stranger purposely flitted her eyes over to the obviously placed coffee pots, before turning her attention back to ken.

"hm, i would say that i do." she chuckled. her dress gently swayed behind her as she slipped behind the counter. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled in his direction.

"obviously." the boy muttered under his breath, embarrassment consuming him alive.

"pick your poison."

ken pretended to ponder his options. on a normal day - which this wasn't - he could always go for a medium roast coffee with creamer and two sugars, but today felt inexplicably different.

"i think i might go with some oolong tea today, if it isn't any trouble."

"of course not, silly. it's one of my personal favorites." the barista smiled. she turned around, completely engrossing herself in the task at hand while ken decided to explore the shop.

his fingers danced on the spines of novels and novellas, enjoying the way they felt beneath his fingertips. as a child, ken never had the attention span for reading. he was always distracted by the butterflies or colorful markers or dandelions. these things were real, and for him, the words in the books weren't.

consumed by his thoughts and the texture of the spines, ken drowned out the shop owner's declaration of warm drinks.

when the surprisingly small hand cupped the boy's shoulder, he jumped, knocking several books from their perch.

"oh no, i'm so sorry. usually, i'm not this clumsy." he offered, quickly picking up the fallen objects and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf. anxiety swirled in stomach; he felt like an absolute fool.

the owner simply smiled and pushed the small mug into ken's cold fingers. how long had it been since he stumbled into the shop? ten minutes? an hour? the thoughts were washed away with the first sip of tea, as the warm, comforting flavor washed away the flush on his cheeks.

"my name's hikari," the mystery barista offered, turning towards the door behind the cluttered counter space, "yell for me if you need anything else." she smiled, then disappeared.

"i'm ken ichijouji!" he called after hikari, but it was too late. her delicate frame had already slipped away, disappearing into further into the shelves.

with a barely distinguishable pout on his pink lips, ken sipped his oolong tea languidly and perched himself in recliner nestled into a dusty corner. the cloth on the seat had once been beautiful, ken was sure. years of patrons had worn away the bright red velvet into a thread-bare pink. it was s comfy, so ken snuggled himself deeper into the chair.

glancing around, he browsed the titles nearest to him.

viva by e.e cummings

pride and prejudice by jane austen

star girl by jerry spinelli

the hobbit by j.r.r. tolkien

hikari apparently had an interest in most things, not unlike ken. they just had interests in different places.

losing interest in the books quickly, ken demolished the luke-warm beverage and placed his dirty mug (that he now realized adorned the same little pink hearts as the sign that hung above the entrance way) next to the coffee pot and hurriedly yelled out his goodbyes.

he closed the old, wooden door, walked down the brick steps, and turned onto thompson rd. his stride was strong and his gaze was fixed onto some imaginative point on the horizon.

ken was on a mission.

the rest of his week was rough, even by ken's standards. book 'n' brew had been closed for the past five days, much to his dismay. ken had inherited the ability to burn water and couldn't be trusted to make his own tea. with the name-brand fix no longer being an option, five whole days without caffeine had put ken on edge.

it was a rather dreary sunday. the rain fell in sheets and drenched the ken down too his sock-less toes. inky black hair plastered to his forehead; his eyelashes had already clumped together. his wet sneakers lead him down the familiar cement of thompson rd. and his heart leap into his throat when he saw the lights on in the infamous bookstore.

the warm atmosphere was once again barren of any patrons (besides ken, of course). hikari was much easier to spot, given that she was directly behind the counter. ken’s heart-rate picked up; he was almost giddy.

hikari's hair was swept to the side again, the ends barely dancing across her shoulders. her billowy dress had been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt. an apron hung loosely off her thin frame. she wore the tea stains like accessories. his heart gave another weird flutter.

however, before he could question his reaction, ken became far too preoccupied with the smells of the quaint shop. cinnamon wafted around his ears while cocoa assaulted his nostrils.

the owner physically perked up when the wind chimes above the door sang a song, signaling the first customer of the day.

rain dripped from his clothes as ken walked towards the delicious aromas while mulling over the half-baked plan that he attempted to conceive a week prior.

it wasn't much. he just thought that hikari was impossibly cute and wanted an excuse to strike up a seemingly casual conversation. the only problem that presented itself was the fact that ken absolutely despised reading.

so, during his caffeine withdrawal, ken invested a part of his meager wages into a hoard of "spark notes" books. these were easier to understand and got straight to the point, anyways. every morning of his coffee-less week began with a literary classic. much to his dismay, the plots bored him to tears. lovers would fight and makeup, enemies would always become friends. books were too predictable.

nevertheless, when the shop was finally reopened, ken had the basic knowledge of not one, but five(ish) novels to use as conversation starters. he wanted to be prepared to keep her interest, no matter how small his understanding of the material.

"hello, hikari!" ken chirped, a bright smile spreading across his wind-nipped cheeks.

"good morning, ken ichijouji, how have you been?" though she was talking to him, her eyes never left the countertop she was cleaning. the shadows under her eyes did not go unnoticed, but ken decided against bringing it up.

" i'm great! i've been put off, though, as your shop hasn't been open in nearly a week."

hikari chuckled darkly, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments. "don't worry about that. i'm here now. would you like anything to sip on or any novels to escape into today?"

ken was slightly confused by the unusual turn hikari's behavior. her voice was no longer sweet, but laden with exhaustion. however, he let none of this deter him from his mission.

"yes, please. i would like a coffee with creamer and two and a half sugars, please."

the blue-eyed boy watched intently as hikari made his drink. In an effort to bring a smile to her face, ken joked that his preferred his coffee the color of his sun-kissed skin. despite how stupid it sounded, her cheeks warmed as she giggled. looking like an idiot was worth it if it meant that hikari would laugh like that.

"so," ken began as the silence settled in, "have you read any good books lately?" he took a quick sip of his coffee and let the warmth sink to his icy toes. september was almost over, but the chill of october was already creeping around the corner.

the corner of hikari's mouth twitched, and ken’s heart soared when he knew he made the correct choice.

"hm," the young woman started, her body relaxed against the cluttered surface of the counter., "i had you pegged as more of a 'movies-are-better-than-books' type of guy." her elbow grazed a stack of books that were balanced precariously on the edge.

"ah, well, of course not! i have loved reading since primary school." ken stuttered out. his face was a shade of deep red, resembling the worn-out velvet of the chair he was sat in. the lie sat uneasily at the pit of his stomach, but ken pushed it aside.

"well, to answer your question, i just finished the book thief by markus zusak." by now, a smile had warmed up hikari’s amber eyes, brightening the mood. rain still splattered against the shop windows, but the pair paid little mind.

"what was it about?" inquired ken. while he had no interest in reading, he certainly had an interest in whatever hikari was talking about. her slow, languid voice soothed him.

hikari eagerly rambled on and on about the characters and plot, being careful to only tease at the spoilers. ken stared intently into her eyes. he didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but he loved every minute of her voice ringing in his ears.

the coffee sat abandoned in his lap, warm long gone and chilly. the raven-haired boy took a drawn out sip, absentminded. furrowed eyebrows and a quirk of the month made hikari giggle in the midst of her story-telling.

once hikari’s story lulled to an end, ken began to talk about the books he didn't really read. he steered away from specifics and danced around with the big ideas. though her attention was divided behind between making herself a cup of tea and ken’s pride and prejudice synopsis, she seemed at ease.

"you remind me of Lydia Bennet, actually.” hikari’s hair whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise. ken was too preoccupied with the speech he prepared, one that he was sure would enthrall her. “you have that aura about you.”

“i have the aura of girl that would run away with a grown man at the age of fifteen?” the incredulousness in her voice snapped ken from his coffee-induced stupor. He hands shook. oh god, i should have read the book.

“the sparks notes didn’t mention that part.” his mouth reveals him before his brain can put a stop to it. “oh, god, i’ve ruined everything. i can’t talk to cute people, okay? i don’t know how to flirt!” his absolute, all-consuming panic must have been obvious from the way the warmth crept across his face.

her giggle caught him off guard. “how can you laugh at a time like this? i just compared you to a mother’s worse nightmare.” ken was miserable, doing his best to disappear into the cushion of the recliner.

“because it was endearing to watch you pretend to know what you’re talking about.” hikari said simply, her cheeks pink.

ken only hummed in response, not trusting his voice to respond. Instead, he basked in the warm atmosphere and tried to gain the inertia to take himself to work. while they sat in comfortable silence, mulling in the conversation, hikari leaned down and pried the empty ceramic mug from ken’s now-cold fingertips.

the contact sent a shiver down his spine, his heartrate skipping sporadically in his chest. he was on fire.

and ken knew.

he knew by the blush that rose in the girl’s cheeks, and the look of confusion still in her eyes. ken knew that coffee was good, but it had never tasted better than when he was with her. he had never tried so hard to gain the attentions of the girl, never expecting himself to be willing to do research on a subject that didn't interest him just for the sake of conversation.

the realization shook him to his core.

ken knew that he was falling for her.

so he did what he was best at.

he ran.

"oh my, look at the time. i am going to be late for my shift. it's been good. thanks for the coffee." he slammed a wad of money on the counter and rushed to the door, wind chimes tinkling after him.

hikari's goodbyes were caught in her throat.

#kenkari #ken ichijouji #hikari yagami #digimon

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acatpersonapparently · 3 years ago

Text

Jemtoria Angel AU: part 3

The scent of freshly cut grass and ripe tomatoes surround Victoria in the sweet soft morning. Her hand gently works the wing of a mourning dove. Over the blade of the scapula and soft coverts. It has been three days since her newest little bird entered her coop.

She doesn’t even know why she did that.

Even after so much time, human still sits in a distorted shape in her throat. The bird in her lap stirs and coos, she’s not sure how to even exist near someone else. A dry breeze ruffles the air, blowing her hair into her eyes. She pushes the sudden blonde curtain away with a sigh, turning her gaze to her garden.

There’s the warm glow of bright red hair hiding behind her vegetables. If Victoria had to guess, the girl got up with the sun and busied herself in the soil before her alarm woke Victoria up. The dove in her lap chirps and fusses. Victoria hushes it and resumes her gentle ministrations.

How best to heal this bird?

ii.

Jemima has lived at the house with the blue door for a week and she already knows how every day will go:

-She will wake up first and head out to the garden.

-At 8:00AM, Victoria’s alarm clock will go off and some time in the next thirty minutes, the scent of bacon will waft out the kitchen window.

-By 9:00AM, her silent benefactor will step outside to greet her birds and tend to them, filling feeders and water bowls, examining hurt wings. That’s when Jemima will tend to flower bushes on the far side of the yard.

-10:45AM is the latest that Victoria leaves for work. Jemima can then head back inside before the sun gets too high and hot. She’ll find some leftover bacon on a plate left for her.

-Most of the time while Victoria is at work, Jemima reads or watches TV. She tried snooping around, looking around the house for anything fun or weird, but there’s nothing. No knick knacks, pictures, paintings. She couldn’t even find a stray ID or a letter.

-Sometime after 11PM, the door will slowly creak open and Victoria will walk through, open one of the beers from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and melt down into one of the wooden chairs at the small dining table. Jemima will lower the volume on the TV and, when she’s feeling brave, says hello. She never gets a response. The first time they spoke is also the only time they’ve spoke. She will get a polite wave or, if she asks a question, a nod or a shake.

-Victoria will wash out her bottle, place it in the bin, and shower at midnight. The soft shuffle of her feet always preceding Victoria before she appears to give Jemima a nightly goodnight wave and following her off as she heads to bed.

(There’s a few unexpected moments during her days. During a sleepy morning, she sees Victoria through the flowers, she sees her smile as a mountain bluebird nuzzles against her cheek. From peeping over a rosebush, the image is ethereal. If her father was half as resplendent, she understands why her mother was drawn in.)

iii.

Victoria didn’t mean to do it.

She didn’t mean to see anything.

There was some lemonade leftover at work so she brought it over and just wanted to know if Jem wanted some. She didn’t find the redhead in the living room so she had to be in her bedroom, so she just opened the door.

(She should not have opened the door.)

Victoria knows what her own back looks like. Catching brief glimpses of it in the mirror before stepping into the shower. Bone and blackened tissue that ached heavily, a rotted shadow of a symbol of Heaven’s glory. If Father’s intention was a mark of shame, he did a pretty damn good job.

Jemima’s was different (worse?)

White feathers molting, red raw patches, tufts of down sprouting up and down her back and across her shoulder blades. The waif was surrounded in a circle of white like fresh fallen snow. Victoria gags. Her stomach in instant upheaval at the sight. The tips of her fingers go numb as the moisture leaves her mouth. Her feet acted before she could think and she ran.

(She should not have ran.)

The birds open their wings and take to the sky when she reaches outside. She breathes deep, her chest aches, she tries to focus her thoughts. Her mind parsing through every microdetail with as much scrutiny in her panicked ability as she can get together. She looks up at the night sky and into the eyes of all the bright twinkling stars and, for the first time, she feels like they’re looking back at her.

Oh God, she’s not alone.

iv.

Jemima knows what happens next. She stuffs her bag with all of her belongings. All she needs to do is find another place to live. It’s fine. She’ll be fine. Her eyes watch the open doorway of her bedroom.

And, eventually, just like she expected, Victoria reappears with red eyes.

She waits for the cruel familiar sting of monster but Victoria just stares at her with these eyes, this cruel pitiful expression.

I- I can just go. I’m sorry. Jemima lowers her eyes and moves to push past the other girl. It’s all too bitterly predictable.

No. Victoria grabs her wrists so fiercely Jemima is sure that she’s about to be dragged into town to be burned at a stake. Please, stay.

And Jemima did not expect that.

Between the two of us, we probably have enough for a set of wings, is the first thing Jemima says to her when Victoria shows her the withered afterimage of her wings. Victoria doesn’t know how to react in any way but laughter and it feels rusty in her throat, but good, really good.

Turns out holiness isn’t a factor in being a good dad and that seems to be a universal truth.

Victoria grabs two beers from the bottom shelf of the fridge and the two of them lay out in the garden, drinking to stories about how the shadow of divinity has taunted them. They yell into the void of the night sky at fathers that have fucked them over and what’s the point of abandoning them with enough holy to bitter the blood? Victoria grabs them another round when they start talking about how humanity is just another set of stone shackled to their ankles.

They’re still wiping away the tears from the last set of ab-aching laughter when Jemima asks Victoria what heaven feels like.Victoria hums to herself, a little tipsy, and sinks into the grass.

It feels a little like this, I guess.

vi.

Jemima has lived at the house with the blue door for three months. Long enough for hot dry summer to roll in and for the summer plants to start blooming. She has no idea how her day is going to go.

Last week, Victoria took her into town to get her new clothes. A few days before that, she came home with a blanket and a tub of ice cream for her. They had stayed up late that night because ice cream is received with enthusiasm, even by former servants of a deity.

(The two other colours are two different flavours? This Neopolitan guy is really smart, Jem)

Jemima finds herself waiting at the dinner table, an open beer at the seat across from her, waiting for someone to fill it. The clock hits 10:30 and the front door bursts open. Victoria rushing in to hug Jemima before helping herself to her beer.

Jemima had no idea that someone being excited to hug you could feel as good as a hug itself

That night, they curl up in front of the artificial glow of the television. Victoria offers to share a blanket with Jemima as the redhead scoots under it with pink-tinged cheeks. Throughout the night, Victoria’s breath warms the side of Jemima’s face as she leans in to whisper the occasional question about the television.

(Jemima is suddenly worried about spontaneous combustion cause that’s what this feels like, right? Right?)

Jemima wakes up before the sun rises like she always does. She doesn’t move an inch, coveting this moment in a never-ending form. The soft babble of the television, Victoria’s warmth snug against her, birds chirping outside. She looks around the small house and she can’t believe how much light its contains

Victoria’s eyes flutter open way too soon but it makes Jemima brighten up with what feels like the goofiest smile. Victoria returns it.

Good morning.

Good morning to you too.

What are you thinking about?

Do you know what happens at 4:30AM? You turn gold.

vii.

Victoria hit the earth crying for heaven. Her halo rests crooked.

Jemima's earliest memory was of the sun. Her mother is tearing fistfuls of feathers from her back again.

The girls are wrist-deep in the warm rich soil, worms dripping from the gaps between their fingers in every handful of dirt. They've managed to turn the air into music, permeated with the singing of birds and bursts of deep chest laughter. There was nothing in any hymnal that could rival it. Victoria sits back on her knees, removing her wide-brimmed hat to push down her sweaty hair. She looks up at the sky, vast and inviting.

(What’s wrong?)

It’s not easy, it hasn’t been easy. Half-angels and monster-girls creeping along the spine of the world made for Adam and Eve. There are dark moments: their bed brimming with nightmares and past memories on darkest nights, flinching and holding each other tighter when they’re in town, fat wet tears running down Jemima’s cheeks the first time Victoria acts on the urge to kiss her.

(I’ve been so lonely and so angry and so angry about being alone. I’ve been angry for so long that I- I’m not sure who I am without it.)

But, those good moments, those good glorious moments. Victoria has gawked at rapidly expanding nebulae, she’s stood with her brothers and sisters as gravity collapsed in on itself in an instant and formed neutron stars and black holes, she’s blown the last wisps of steam from a black star cupped in her palms. None of them are as good as Jemima waiting for her when she gets home, or when Jem reminds her that a proper diet includes more than bacon. The light dripping from those big brown eyes every time she showed Vic another sprout pushing to the sun from under the damp earth was something Victoria could savour until the world tires of spinning.

(I can’t promise you that I know who you are without it either, but I can promise that you’ll never be lonely again. A-and I’ve technically been a part of a hivemind since time began, so maybe we can find out who we are together? If you don’t mind staying here a little longer, that is.)

Alongside a narrow dirt road, fifteen minutes from the edge of town, there is a house with a blue door and a beautiful front garden of newly blossoming life and birds taking flight on recovered wings. The doormat has bright yellow lettering, written by two different hands, together.

Heaven is a place on earth.

#Angel au: the last part #cause of death: the softies #jemima cats #victoria cats #jemtoria #I have rewritten this too many times #i am so very proud of this so please let me know what you think #if it pleases you of course #shhhh no one knows what you're talking about #how sweet a thing to be holy

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