#It’s been smoldering in my stomach ever since she said that about me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

baldursgrave69 · 9 months ago

Text

A Devil You Know

Summary: The warlock Gem has been blissfully free of her patron since she was abducted by the mind flayers. Of course, this could only last so long.

Word count: 1.8k

Find me on AO3 here

Adding a new cast of characters to the baldursgrave universe.

I hope you enjoy this fic about my warlock Gem and my brother’s character Syx, a young, naive amnesiac barbarian who Gem is on a mission to protect.

Gem’s feet ached as she and her companions trudged through the blighted village near the Druid’s Grove.

They had been out all day trying to find their way to the goblin camp where the druid Halsin was being held. Everyone, even Syx, was silent as they dragged themselves through the ruined village. As they approached the outskirts of the town, Gem caught a whiff of an all too familiar scent. Cherries, musk, and a hint of sulfur.

“Gem, are you wearing perfume?” Astarion teased.

“Dear gods,” Gem mumbled, hearing a loud snap behind her. As she turned her eyes met Raphael’s. The fiend, now presenting himself as a human, was her patron. The entity that granted her the power to summon eldritch blasts. A sly smile covered Raphael’s face as he adjusted the sleeve of his ornate tunic.

“For fuck’s sake,” she whispered, glaring at the devil. He ever so slightly shook his head, she was not to tell her companions that she knew him.

“My my,” Raphael began, his voice like smoldering ashes. “What manner of place is this? A path to redemption, or a road to damnation? Hard to say, for your journey is just beginning,”

Gem felt herself tense up as Raphael taunted her companions with that corny poetry she was all too used to.

“The mouse smiled brightly, it outfoxed the cat. Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that. Ah, they do know how to write them in Cormyr, don’t they?” he chuckled, grinning at Gem.

“Who’s this guy?” Syx asked Gem loudly. Gem grimaced as Raphael turned to the barbarian.

“Well met, I am Raphael. Very much at your service,” he said lowly with a bow.

“Are we talking to the mouse, or the cat?” Gem snapped, stepping between Raphael and Syx. Raphael narrowed his gaze in her direction.

“Neither,” he growled. “The fox, rather, hiding in a word: a silent observer - about to break the silence,”

Gem scoffed, Raphael was rarely ever silent.

“What I have to say merits some privacy, perhaps some more… refinement let’s call it. This quaint little scene is decidedly too ‘middle-of-nowhere’ for my tastes. Come,” Raphael snapped his fingers, engulfing them in white flames.

As the group steadied themselves, Gem felt a sense of dread in her stomach. A sulfurous smell assaulted her senses as she looked around, recognizing exactly where Raphael had taken them.

“There, middle of somewhere,” Raphael smirked, watching Gem’s face contorted with realization that he had brought them to the Hells.

“This is nice, where are we?” Syx blurted out, taking in the surroundings. A massive table filled to the brim with food sat behind them and Gem noticed Syx’s eyes grow wide

“Don’t you dare,” Gem barked at Syx as he eyed the banquet.

“The House of Hope, where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed - lavishly,” Gem glared at Raphael as he encouraged the group to feast.

“Go on, partake. Enjoy your supper, after all it might just be your last,” Raphael sang watching the group.

“What makes you say that?” Gale chimed in, eyeing the man.

“Call it a ninth sense,” Flames began to engulf Raphael, the room filling with the smell of sulfur. Astarion, Gale, and Syx jumped back, startled. Gem stood firmly planted, rolling her eyes at her patron’s theatrics. When the flames died down, the group could now see Raphael for what he truly was, a devil. His skin now red, horns protruding from his head, and large imposing wings stretching outwards.

“What’s better than a devil you don’t know? A devil you do,” Raphael chuckled deeply. Gem let out a scoff.

“Am I a friend? Potentially. An adversary? Conceivably. But a savior, that’s for certain,” Raphael glared at Gem, silently warning her to keep her thoughts to herself, lest he act on his power over her in front of her companions.

“What makes you think we need saving?” Astarion said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gem knew Raphael must know about the tadpole. She had wondered why he hadn’t come looking for her yet.

“Come now, why play hard to get when you’re in deep over your tadpoled head? One skull, two tenants, and no solution in sight. I could fix it all,” Raphael smiled a sly smile, snapping his fingers. “Like that.”

Gem shifted uneasily, looking over at Syx. His eyes were wide as he watched Raphael. Gem worried he’d try to make a deal with the devil, she couldn’t let that happen to him.

“We’re not making any deals,” Gem hissed. Raphael smiled wide.

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind, before it’s changed for you. You’ll exhaust every possibility until none are left. And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair - that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door.”

Gem felt heat rising in her, an anger so pure she could explode.

“I’ll be there when the luck runs out,” and with that, the group was transported back to the blighted village, dizzy from their quick trip to the hells.

“Fucking devil,” Gem grumbled, looking over to Syx. He stood awkwardly, his long arms hanging at his side, eyes glassed over.

“Are we all alright?” Gem asked, moving towards Syx. He turned to her, a big smile crossing his face.

“That was wild, I don’t really know what just happened,” he said earnestly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gem tried to smile at Syx as she patted his back.

Astarion watched Gem for a moment, the familiarity with which the cambion spoke to her was odd. Gem noticed Astarion staring at her and flashed him a nasty look.

“What’re you staring at, fangs?” Gem asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“What? Nothing,” he scoffed, running his fingers through his white curls.

“You seem particularly miffed by this devil,” Gale commented, looking at Gem.

“He’s a devil, Gale. If you’re not ‘particularly miffed’ there’s something very wrong with you.” Astarion let out a quiet chuckle as Gem snapped at Gale.

“I felt rather flattered, actually. Being invited to dine with a devil,” Gem cocked her head to the side as she glared at Gale.

“It left a bad taste in my mouth,” she spat at him. “He’s bad news. We would be wise to steer clear of any ‘infernal assistance’.” she mumbled.

Astarion observed Gem’s body language, watching how tense she was.

“Seems like you have experience with that kind of help,” Astarion commented as he watched her.

“Any idiot knows not to make a deal with a devil. I don’t want to hear anymore about this ‘Raphael’ character. I’ve had enough of him already,” Gem hoped that her companions would drop the subject. She had been enjoying her time away from the devil that owned her soul.

“Yeah guys, let it go,” Syx said, draping his arm over Gem’s shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his side, giving him a squeeze in thanks.

“Let’s just camp for the night, shall we?” Gale said after a moment of silence. “I think I’ll make a lovely potato soup for dinner. Syx would you like to help?”

Syx immediately pushed Gem to the side, jumping excitedly at the prospect of helping Gale with dinner. Gem readjusted herself after being thrown off balance by Syx smoothing the front of her clothing. Astarion shot her a smirk as she steadied herself.

Later in the evening, as Gale and Syx prepared dinner, Gem sat by the fire with a glass of wine. The camp was alive, Wyll and Karlach sitting across from her as they finally had the chance to catch up with one another. Laezel was stood at her tent, grinding a sword against her sharpening stone. Shadowheart watched Syx peeling potatoes, rushing over to help him as he almost cut himself with the paring knife. Gem looked over to see Astarion stood at this tent, engulfed in a book.

With everyone occupied, Gem decided to wander off. She walked across a log bridge to a small ruined building. Finally alone, she sat against the cool stone and let out a loud sigh.

“It’s been entirely too long, Geminara,” a familiar smoldering voice appeared from the darkness. Gem jumped up, reaching for her dagger.

“Now now, that’s no way to greet an old friend,” Raphael appeared from the shadows, stretching his large imposing wings. Gem returned the dagger to her side, leaning up against the stone wall.

“I’ve had my fill of you today,” Gem griped, watching as Raphael walked closer to her. In an instant he was next to her, hand around her throat.

“Listen here, pipsqueak. You will treat me with the respect I am owed,” he growled, tightening his grip on her throat. Gem clawed at his hands, trying to pry them off of her. “Shh, we wouldn’t want to alert the others,” Raphael whispered, releasing his grip. Gem coughed, steadying herself.

“I have missed my favorite pet,” he continued, tracing his finger along her cheek. Gem shuddered at his touch, his skin almost too hot to bear.

“Now, listen up. I have plans for you, dear,” Raphael grabbed Gem’s chin, moving her head to look at him. “You will continue looking for a cure for this tadpole issue. As long as you do, I’ll keep your list empty,” Gem looked at her patron in confusion.

“Why do you care if I cure the tadpole?” she asked. Raphael narrowed his gaze, piercing into Gem.

“I can’t lose my favorite warlock to some worm,” he smiled. “I have grand plans for you my dear, in time. Now go, and do keep that pretty mouth shut, yes?” Raphael grinned once more at Gem, before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Gem staggered backwards, trying to catch her breath. What did he have planned for her, she wondered. As she paced back and forth in the ruined building, trying to gather her thoughts, a familiar voice rang through the night.

“GEM? GEM WHERE ARE YOU?” Gem chuckled, pulling herself together and going to find Syx.

“I’m right here,” she smiled, walking back into camp. Syx ran up to her, his eyes wild.

“I couldn’t find you, I thought something happened,” he said nervously.

Gem gave his arm a squeeze, reassuring him that she was alright. Gale handed Gem a bowl of soup, which she took and sat down next to Astarion at the fire.

“You’ve got a strange look in your eye,” Astarion commented quietly. Gem looked over at him, realizing he had been looking at her.

“What are you on about?” she asked nonchalantly, eating her soup.

“Ever since we met that devil, Raphael, you’ve acted strange,” Gem felt a nervous pang in her stomach. She was forbidden from telling them anything about her pact with Raphael. She didn’t want Astarion to go prying.

“Well, we were transported to the hells by a devil earlier. I’d say this is a normal reaction,” she shrugged, trying to appear casual.

Astarion narrowed his gaze, he didn’t buy what she was saying. He knew there was more than she was letting on, however he decided not to pry. Not yet. The rest of the night passed quietly, everyone slowly winding down and preparing to rest. Gem had a feeling she wouldn’t be getting much rest this evening, her reunion with Raphael still twirling around in her mind

7 notes · View notes

gh0stchoir · 2 years ago

Note

Filo took several deep breathes, breaking the eye contact to Kurogiri. This was too much, it was all too much. It hadn't been five minutes since she learnt she had a second quirk, her entire family did business with All for One, she had been manipulated all her life and now her father was not dead, but also not alive, but existing as a Nomu. No one would be able to handle such info. She could feel the urge to vomit rise, and knew whatever was in her stomach wouldn't stay down for much longer. If this was what a mental breakdown felt like, she was about to have one. And she wouldn't have it in front of everyone. Slowly, she turned to where Tao was sitting. Gods how she hated seeing him like this. So confused and upset. She wanted to hold him close and promise that everything would turn out alright. But right now, she needed that herself. She needed a hug from someone who didn't manipulate her and some peace and quiet. Hot chocolate, a warm blanket, and cuddles. Someone who didn't judge or manipulated. Her eyes went back to All for One. Manipulated like this bastard did.

"Tao, remember what I said. He took you away from your mother and forcefully experimented on you. He turned your mother into a Nomu and lied to you that she abandoned you", she turned to Shigaraki, "He's only using you. Right now you're of use as your own person but the moment that stops he'll try and take over your body. Ever saw the horror film "Get out"? Exactly like those old white folks did to the black people. If you want to dust anyone, him!" With that, Filo turned on her heel, unable to take anything more. Running out of the door and into the storm, though she didn't made it far. The world was spinning, she crumbled, falling to her knees and doubling over. Retching sounds, and her breakfast hit the pavement as she threw up. Her tears mixed with the rain, she sobbed. The pain blinded everything else, because when Filo came to again, she was leaning against Toga, with Magne hugging them both, shielding them from the rain. Toga looked at her with empathy, trying to dry her face, which was useless in this storm. Both women lead Filo back inside, where Spinner offered her a towel. The other villains, as well as Tao, where nowhere to be seen. Only the remains of the laptop, smoldered and ash, lay on the table.

“Tao..I need you to look at me..” Shigaraki held the boys wrists, pinky’s out, so he could see his face. Tao was full on shaking, like he was out in the storm. His breathing labored, brain fried and going haywire. It was all too much. The look on Filo’s face, how pained she look. How she had seemed so calm while learning about it. How could she keep her emotions at bay? Here he was, sobbing like a baby, mere seconds from blacking out. “Tomu..” Tao managed to get out, eyes shakily looking into Tomura’s. The rest that were in the room watched awkwardly, not knowing what to do. They wanted to go find All for One, try and finish the bastard off. But they had no clue were he was at. And it wasn’t like Kurogiri would let them, seeing as right before Tomura turned the laptop to ash, AFO commanded. “Oh and before I go..Kurogiri, do not teleport them to me.” He had said. Shigaraki had let out a frustrated yell upon turning the device to dust. He was beyond upset and angry. Had AFO known they could’ve possibly beaten him? They could’ve killed him. They wouldn’t have him to deal with, any longer. But of course the bastard always was three steps ahead. He planned for everything, after all. This wasn’t an exception.

“Tomu he..he turned my mother-“ “I know..” Tomura hugged him, letting him sob into his shoulder. “I-I could have been normal..I could be a normal kid..” He whimpered out. “Y-you have to..you have to stop him-please Tomu..” It made his heart ache. He want to. Oh how he wanted to dust that man. But how was he going to? He didn’t have his location, and after this probably would lose all communication with him. All for One was the reason he was here right now. He was a mere child when the man found him. In a way, he helped him. He was his Sensei after all, as cruel as it was to say. “I-I can’t Tao..I don’t even know where the fuck he is..” Shigaraki frowned. “It’s like asking me to kill All Might..I have no actual way of doing it, even if I desperately want to.” Tao cried harder at this. He wasn’t going to be able to recover, he thought at this moment. Everything felt wrong. So wrong. He was lied to his whole life. Used by the man who turned his own mother into one of those Nomus.

#ace—♡

1 note · View note

kay-emm-gee · 3 years ago

Text

always, only, you

Pairing: Theodore Laurence/Amy March Rating: Mature || wc: ~1.5k a/n: Always loved the two of them, and I absolutely adored the 2019 adaptation, and I felt inspired to write jealous!laurie, so here we are.

* * *

For what felt like the tenth time tonight, Laurie was staring at her from across the room, not saying a word. Amy did not look away from her vanity mirror, ignoring the feel of his eyes on her. Their party had gone well as any of their previous endeavors, and she simply wished for the happy sort of exhaustion that normally came after a successful night as hostess to sink into her bones. But instead, after the way her husband had behaved, she only wished for sleep. He had barely spoken to her during their customary waltz or at the dinner table. No kind words for her, no usual shower of compliments--only silent, sidelong looks, just as he was doing even now.

Stubbornly ignoring him, she reached up and continued pulling pins from her hair. Curl after curl fell, and as the last one tumbled down, she heard Laurie’s breath catch. A small thrill of satisfaction tripped up her spine to have finally shaken some semblance of reaction from him. Too soon, however, it died under the weight of her lingering annoyance.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” She finally asked breezily. “Or do you plan to sleep standing up?”

“I will, at the very least, take my cravat off. Still deciding where to sleep. The wall here is quite comfortable, I’ve never noticed before.”

Ignoring his dry quip, she began brushing her hair. “I thought it went well tonight. Not as much of a success as our Christmas party, but still a grand time.”

“Fred Vaughn certainly had an excellent evening.”

She paused mid-stroke, turning to face her husband. When their eyes met, his mouth twisted into a sharp mockery of a smile.

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“I suppose any man would have had just an excellent of an evening, being so devotedly attended to by my wife.”

He said the last word softly but with such force that it seemed to shatter as it dropped into the silence between them. Slowly, Amy set down her hairbrush. Then she rose from her chair, staring at him in disbelief.

“You...you’ve behaved this way all night, because you are jealous?”

Laurie scoffed, pushing off the wall. He turned from her and shrugged off his evening jacket, then reached up and removed his cravat with short, jerky movements. Incredulous, Amy stood and approached him, her chemise swishing against the floor.

“Laurie, I paid him no more attention than I would any other friend of ours—”

“But no other friend of ours has proposed marriage to you, hmm? No others have been in love with you, have they?”

“It has been more than five years since he and I...you are being ridiculous. Laurie—”

He spun around. “Am I?”

The tinge of angry desperation in his words brought Amy up short. She swallowed down the words of her sharp retort and simply looked at her husband. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his hair was mussed. No doubt he had been running his hands through it before he had come up to bed. Instinctively, she moved towards him, resting her palms on his shoulders. She could feel the tension in them, and so she slid her hands up until they cupped his jaw. Forcing his gaze down to meet hers, she felt her breath catch again as she glimpsed something all too familiar in his eyes.

Worry that something was slipping away. Fear that something precious and so desperately wanted would be wrenched from his grasp.

This worry, this fear—she had felt it in the first years of their marriage. Despite the rings, and despite her sister’s blessing, Amy had struggled to leave her girlhood insecurities behind. In those early years, jealousy had been her constant foe. She knew Laurie and Jo were connected by threads of closeness that could not be severed. It was as incontrovertible a fact as the shape of her nose or that her sister had died too young. She had known this and said her vows anyway. She had known this and still honestly believed Laurie when he had promised to love and cherish her until death did part them. Never once had she truly thought he considered betraying his vows, and never once had she believed her sister ever wanted him to. Even so, in the infancy of their marriage she had fought this battle that she now saw raging in her husband’s eyes.

She stroked a thumb over his cheek. He closed his eyes, and let out a tired sigh.

“He made you laugh.”

Amy bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Old Mr. Rochester also makes me laugh, but I don’t see you worrying about me spending time with him.”

“I tried to make you laugh all week, and you just snapped at me every time.”

“Well, because, for example, you almost destroyed our flower arrangements--our very expensive flower arrangements--for the party in the process of trying to make me laugh. Besides, you know how I get before these events. I’m insufferable.”

She watched as his lips flexed in stifled amusement. The heavy weight on her chest lifted at the sight.

“Theodore Laurence,” she whispered. “I love you. Only you. Always have, always will.”

His forehead knocked gently into hers. “You do?”

“I do.”

“How much?” His voice was tender, rasping.

“More than those flower arrangements.” She paused for a beat. “But only just barely. Certainly not more than my blue muslin, however.”

He chuckled, the corner of his mouth kicking up. She pressed a kiss there, soft and lingering.

“Theo?”

His eyes finally opened and met hers, and the heat Amy saw reflected there made her stomach clench. He always loved it when she called him that—particularly because no one else did. It was for them. Angling his head, he let his lips drift just over hers, a breath away from touching. Anticipation shivered down her spine.

“Yes, dear?” He answered as he slid hands around her waist.

Her own hands slid down his neck, over his shoulders and down his back as she perched up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “I want my husband to take me to bed.”

He took in a sharp breath, and then his mouth was on hers, hot and claiming. His fingers dug into her sides, and she gripped his shoulders for balance. They stumbled backwards, but neither of them were paying proper attention, so Laurie ended up backing her into the wall beside her vanity instead of the bed. With each stroke of his tongue against hers, the tension inside her wound tighter, and she let out a small moan as he pressed his hips into hers. With an answering hum of pleasure, he broke the kiss and spun her around so quickly that she had to grip the wall to steady herself. His fingers unlaced her underclothes with little trouble, and she shimmied out of them hurriedly. When she faced him again, he had already made quick work of his shirt. Her hands went to his pants, fumbling with the fastenings.

“Faster, wife,” he muttered as he tried, and failed, to help. She huffed in response, unable to hide her grin any more than Laurie was able to hide his own. As she felt the fastenings finally give, she sighed in triumph. That sigh quickly turned into a moan, however, when she felt Laurie’s fingers slide over the heat between her legs. He stroked her slowly, firmly, just the way she liked. Vaguely she heard him kick off his pants, but she was too lost in the pleasure he was giving her to know for certain.

By the time Laurie positioned himself at her core, she was aching for him, and when he entered her, she let out a throaty cry of relief. He moved in and out of her in short, rough thrusts, her leg hitched over one of his arms, the other curled around her lower back for support. The friction between them wound her tighter and tighter until, with one last long slide, it peaked. He groaned and found his pleasure just as she keened and found hers. Together, they rode out the crashing wave until it was just small ripples.

As Laurie cleaned them both up, Amy focused on catching her breath. It had been a claiming, no doubt, but on both sides. She was his, and he was hers. The heat inside her had smoldered down to coals, and now suffused her with a low, satisfied burn. He stood and leaned into her once more, and she looked up at him lazily.

“Now will you take me to bed, husband?”

With a smug grin, he leaned down and kissed her on the tip of her nose. “Certainly, my dear.”

Then he grasped her hand and tugged, and she followed him gladly--always had, always would.

#amy x laurie #amy x laurie fanfiction #amy x laurie fanfic #laurie x amy #5 #my fanfiction #always only you

215 notes · View notes

roger-that-cap · 4 years ago

Text

all the flowers will bloom

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: nothing much!! some fluff, some bonding, near death experience, dog petting

word count: 3.2k

this is part three!

It was late at night, and the only way you knew was because it was utterly silent. The dead didn’t sleep, but the night was their quiet time. It was their time to reflect and be alone, and it was almost sacred to them. You knew that no one would be around to watch you in the garden, whether you failed or succeeded.

You woke up one morning starving. Your stomach was rumbling in a way it never had before, and you groaned at the feeling. Had you really not eaten anything the whole time?

You rolled out of your bed and opened the door to your room, walking blindly down the hall and trying to find something, anything. The urge to eat was strong, and it was calling you. You vaguely remembered Natasha telling you about a kitchen, and how the humans who used to cook in their past lives took residency there and cooked for everyone who wanted to eat, even though feeding wasn’t necessary to the dead.

You weren’t dead just yet.

Your feet were taking you somewhere, past souls who couldn’t care less about your presence and then past others who stared at you like you were from a famous myth. Either way, none of them spoke to you, and you didn’t speak to either of them. You were just hungry.

“Are you looking to eat something, darling?” A voice crooned, head peeking out of some double doors.

“Yes.” You cleared your throat. “I know it’s early, but, are these the kitchens?”

“They are,” the woman said, and you noticed how her form was slightly more wispy than all of the others you had seen. “We haven’t started yet, but we have some things left over from yesterday, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please.”

“Come in, child.” And so you did. Your steps took you further while something in the back of your mind was urging you to go the other way. Your stomach called for the exact opposite, and it won. Your steps got faster despite the bells going off in your head, and then you were standing over a table of pastries.

“Wow, these look beautiful,” you murmured, eyes catching on multiple different dishes. The bells got louder, but you ignored them as you finally reached for the one on the far right. You smiled at the woman, who was watching you with hawk eyes, poorly hidden anticipation on her face as she waited for you to eat. “Thank you for allowing me to have one, miss.”

“Wait, don’t let her eat that, she’s not dead!”

The pastry was slapped from your hand just as it was about to go into your open mouth. You gasped as you were turned by your shoulders to meet an unfamiliar face, yet another woman. She was more solid than the other one behind you, who you discovered had faded away at the sight of the new arrival.

The woman had brown hair and light green eyes, bordering on blue. She was breathing heavily, like she ran miles just to get to her spot. Her eyes were wild and worried all the same as she shook you twice. “Why the hell were you about to eat that?”

“What?”

“You’re alive, what are you doing?” You matched her worry, hands shaking and eyes wide as you stared at her in silence. “Do you not want to go home?”

A strong presence seeped into the room slowly at first, and then it was suffocating everything and everyone else. And just like that, the woman who saved you stepped back from and faced the doors, doing the same as everyone else and kneeling with her head bowed. You looked towards the door and saw Natasha walking in, her aura dark as she commanded the room without any effort.

“What’s going on here?”

There was a heartbeat of silence, and then the woman closest to you was speaking, head still hung low in respect. “A nymph tried to feed her, Your Majesty.”

You watched Natasha stiffen, and then her eyes turned to you. She stalked forward quickly, steps so intimidating that you almost retreated. “Open your mouth.”

Your fear melted into confusion. “What?”

Natasha’s eyes were ablaze as she gripped your chin, her initial hold harsh and even edging towards desperate, but in the quickest of seconds she loosened her hold on your slacked jaw. “Did she eat any?”

“I got to her before she could put it in her mouth, Your Grace.” Natasha’s eyes lingered on you, blank and observing everything about your face at the moment before taking a step back, but if anything, the intensity only doubled.

“You are never to eat a thing here, do you understand?” Her voice was hard, harder than you had ever heard it. When you failed to answer, she narrowed her eyes even further at you. “What you did could have killed you, Persephone. Don’t eat down here, ever.”

You opened your mouth and almost shut it because of the smoldering look she was giving you. Yiu grappled for words for a second, slightly embarrassed that all you could get out was a pitiful, whiney statement. “B-but, I was hungry.”

Her expression of seriousness cracked just a little. “I forgot that you would be. I apologize.” There was a gasp from over in the kitchens, and you retreated into yourself after knowing that everyone else was listening. They were gasping because she apologized. “But if you ever get hungry, come to me, and I’ll fix it. Never eat anything here.”

You were still shaken by how angry she seemed, and by the way the skin on your hand still slightly stung with the force of the woman’s slap. But you were still curious. “Why?”

“If you eat something here, you’re consenting to be a full time resident.” You sucked in a breath. “If you were dead, it wouldn’t matter. But you need to go see that horrible mother of yours, and eating won’t let you do that.”

Your heart was racing. You could have been trapped there, in the Underworld. For longer than you were even supposed to be. You looked down at the woman and how quick she was to recognize what was wrong with you eating, and then you realized that it was a known fact. That meant only one thing.

“That lady was trying to set me up!” You gasped informally, and Natasha gritted her teeth.

“And she will be dealt with.” She turned to look at the woman who saved you. “Thank you, Maria. You will be rewarded for your behavior.”

“It was my pleasure, Your Grace.” She stood up and bowed again before walking away.

Everyone else cleared out while you and Natasha looked at each other, eyes seemingly gravitating towards each other’s. “When you’re hungry, come to me.” She repeated, and you frowned.

“How can you fix it if I can’t eat?”

“The same way I fix the feeling of death every morning,” Natasha sighed. “It’s mostly all in your head. The hunger, the darkness, they’re side effects of being here. I just take it out for you.”

You took a slight second to marvel at the idea of her being able to do something like that. “So you can make me feel full?”

There was something that flashed behind her eyes, passing too quickly for you to identify. Her gorgeous mouth attracted your attention as her lips pulled up slightly, just enough for you to notice. “If I tried hard enough, I could make you feel nearly anything.”

Why did her words feel like she meant something entirely different than what it was supposed to?

§§

The earth was dry. Not a thing was growing, and everything that managed to slip by and grow died within days. Demeter was on a rampage, angry beyond belief. Nothing good ever happened when a god was angry.

“The humans are suffering,” Steve pointed out to her, aware that he needed to say his piece gently, or risk Demeter losing her temper again at the expense of mankind.

“I don’t care,” the goddess hissed, even though it wasn’t necessarily true. “I will let them all starve if my daughter isn’t found and brought back to me.”

“What do you want me to do, Demeter?” He asked, shifting on his throne and giving her a mildly annoyed look. “I don’t have her, and I don’t know anyone who is stupid enough to take her.”

“I want you to call Hecate.” She ground out, and Steve gave her a disappointed look. “She looks up to you. You’re the only one who can bring her out of hiding, and she’s the only one with the magic that can track down my Persephone.”

He looked down on her from his throne, and she picked her chin up as he gave her an even more disapproving look. “It’s not right to pull Wanda back into this, and you know it.”

“It’s been ages since the fight against the Titans. They’re all dead or locked away, now. She’s fine.” If it was anyone else at stake, anyone other than her Persephone, maybe Demeter would have agreed with Steve. Wanda was traumatized after the wars with the Titans, and everyone knew that after what she had done, she deserved to live however she wanted in peace. But she could rest after Persephone was found. “Call her.”

“I can’t just-”

“You are the king of us all, there’s not a goddamn thing that you can’t do! You’re going to call Hecate here right now, or I will let every single human down there rot and wither away, do you understand me? Not a soul will be alive to offer you anything, and then they’ll all take a trip to see that bitch of the Underworld.”

Steve watched her with an unamused glare, equally annoyed with her as he was wary. “Demeter, calm down.”

She looked like she was getting fired up all over again, but she scoffed and shook her head, taking a second to find the right words through her fury. “Fine. For now, I’ll be calm. But you have to swear to me that whoever has taken Persephone, I get to destroy them. Without question.”

Steve’s words came quick, but he meant them. “I promise.”

“Good.” She straightened out the crown of flowers that had tilted on her head, and then crossed her arms. “Call Hecate.”

****

The days passed by the same. Every morning, you would wake up and feel like you were inches from death, and then Hades— Natasha—would come in and put her strangely warm hands on your throat and chest, and then you could breathe again. You would be escorted by her to the second level, where you would exert yourself so much that your knees trembled only to get no results. She would put her hand right on your stomach and make the hunger in your stomach reduce to nothing, and sometimes she would even eradicate the pain in your knees from kneeling through the day. And then, hours later, you would trudge back to your room and cry. It was the same old song every day.

You missed your mother. You missed the way that the outside world could bring you freedom, even though you were trapped by your mother’s hold. You missed the nymphs, and even their worrying. You missed dipping your toes into the ponds and swimming and singing without a care in the world. Now, you were fighting for the nearly impossible to happen, working your hardest to see your own world again.

“You’re going to die before you fix it if you keep going like this.”

You had mixed feelings about Natasha. The rational part of your brain knew that she didn’t want you there either, and that she would rather not have you in her space and presence. You had touched something that didn’t belong to you, and now you were paying for it. But the part of your mind that made you want to scream and cry was angry and almost constantly blaming her.

The rational part of your mind won. “I don’t know how else to do it.”

“What do you do when you’re above ground?” She asked, taking a few steps closer to the place where you were kneeling down, knees in the dirt and dress pulled up so that it wouldn’t have two big brown spots on it. “Because I know this isn’t it.”

She was right. You were pushing yourself, and your mind wasn’t in the same spot as it would have been if you were in your natural habitat. Usually, you could just look at a spot in the ground and it would grow. In particularly harsh lands, you would touch the soul, but it never got harder than that. This felt nearly impossible.

“How would you know?”

“I know all about you creator gods and your gifts,” she said, her tone almost bored. “It comes easy to you. Creating life is your safe space, isn’t it?” You didn’t need to answer. “There’s no way that something that you were born for makes you react like you’re reacting now.”

“Well, you want me to grow an entire garden in a world where nothing lives,” you said, running a hand over your face as you tried your hardest not to cry. “And whether or not I see everyone again is based on that. So forgive me if I’m not being efficient.” She was silent after that, so you turned and out your hands in the dirt again, breathing in and out.

“Have you heard of that one idea by that one human?” You had almost forgotten that she was still there, speaking too vaguely for you to even try to understand. “You can’t produce anything good if you don’t feel good. I think the same may apply for the gods.”

Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt as you cast a look at her over your shoulder, a small and sarcastic smile on your face. “There are many ways this conversation could go, would you mind elaborating?”

There were a few heart beats worth of silence. “Would you like to see Cerberus now, Persephone?”

“It’s Y/N,” you corrected immediately even though your heart jumped, and you had to work to keep your frown going. “What makes you think that seeing your dog would make me happy?”

“I never said happy,” the older goddess corrected, and then she sighed. “But it could be a start.”

“You can’t be serious,” you said, taking your hand from the dirt and turning around to stand, giving Natasha an incredulous look, even though you meant it to be more curious. “Why do you care?”

“I told you, I don’t want you here for any longer than necessary. I don’t need the Mother of Corn Stalks attempting to wage war on me.” She turned around and took a step forward, and you knew that she was walking to the elevator and expected you to follow.

You did.

You watched the doors open and watched her form as she let herself in first, and then looked at you expectantly. “And, besides, I hate to watch flowers wilt. That’s the whole reason you’re even here, you know.”

She hated to watch flowers die? That seemed uncharacteristic of the woman that your mother had warned you about, but you were quickly learning that most of the things your mother had told you about her just weren’t true. No person who liked death and destruction didn’t like to watch death and destruction. Your mother was wrong about her, and you thought about that the entire way to the elevator.

You waited in the elevator, not sparing a look at the Queen of the Dead for fear that she would already be looking at you. You didn’t want to admit it, but she intimidated you.

You were on the opposite sides of your own large spectrum. She was in charge of everything dead, the very part of life that you worked tirelessly against. If it wasn’t the air of death and decay that surrounded her, it was the look in her eyes. Half haunted, half… alive. Hades hid so much with her eyes that it was impossible for you to ignore and dig into, just like you used to dig in dirt. And you discovered that the woman truly felt as much as anyone above, maybe even as much as the humans. And that terrified you. It terrified you that the woman that your mother demonized actually had emotions in her heart, had a weakness and a strength.

Hades became so much more than a story far too quickly for you to grasp.

“Cerberus,” she started, and her commanding voice nearly made you jump out of your own godly skin. She continued with barely any pause. “He’s a good dog. He’s just… he will be very overwhelming to see at first.”

You assumed so. He was the creature that guarded the entrance of the Underworld, which meant that he must have been more horrifying than anything that walked the greens of the earths. You knew he was as dark as midnight and that he had three heads simply from the stories that everyone was told when they were young enough to listen.

Natasha strutted out of the elevator, red hair swaying in the wind with her sure steps. You were steps behind, still wincing at the feeling of unfamiliar stone on your bare feet instead of tickling grass. She took you to an iron door, one that looked heavy and sounded even more heavy when she pulled it open after having a handful of keys appear in her hands. She unlocked the door with two of them, and then other locks that you hadn’t even seen turned.

“Why did I agree to this, again?” You breathed out as she led you in without a word, and then you were nearly screaming.

The creature was huge. He was so tall that he straight up took your breath out of your chest, and your hands shook. He had three heads, indeed, all three with dark red eyes that stirred like storms. Though there were three heads and they were all three scary, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the middle head. He had bared his teeth automatically at the sight of visitors, and he showed off his killer incisors to make it painfully obvious that he was the most vicious of the three. You tried not to take a step back or startle either of them in the silent room.

“Stand down,” Natasha commanded, and just like that, all three of the heads were subdued, and the conjoined body laid down on the floor, the middle head resting on the front paws. “You’re going to let my visitor see you.”

You nodded warily,your wide eyes fixated on the huge thing and your hands shook. “Oh, I’ve seen him, I’ll be alright from here.”

And you were. For a few weighted moments, you just stared at the thing but looked so out of the ordinary egg that for a moment, you doubted that something like him could be a thing. You watched the thing for minutes, analyzing movements and mannerisms.

“Is he alive?”

The question came from nowhere, and surprisingly, from behind you. You jumped and turned your head to see Natasha leaning on the wall of the very generous cage. Her slender arms were crossed as her eyes were questioning as she waited for your answer, like she had all the time in the world and no intention of repeating herself.

“Cerberus?” You squeaked out, and then cleared your throat quietly. No. That was your immediate response, or what you wanted it to be. But before you could say anything, you second guessed yourself. “I… I don’t know.”

Natasha’s arm extended as she gestured towards her well known guardian animal. “Feel.”

He felt… different. He felt gray, right in between the white light of life and the plain darkness of death. At first glance, he seemed to be floating right in between, placidly and without a care. But, when you dug harder, you realized that he was actually much more in the white than he was in the dark.

He was more alive than dead.

“He’s… alive.”

“And if he’s alive after hundreds and thousands of years, then anything you can plant can stay that way.” She leaned off of the wall, and you swallowed when she turned her gaze towards you, and like she and her pet were on the same page, all four pairs of eyes in the room were set on you, waiting patiently for your gift to bless their home. “Don’t you agree?”

****

i hope you guys liked this one!! we’re getting into stuff now, so that’s exciting. it came early because i’m kind of in a mood, and i wanted to get a little bit of feedback today! this is gonna be so much fun to write going from here even though i’m already having a blast, and i think you guys might have fun reading it! if you guys liked it, please remember to like and reblog 💕💕💕

taglist:

@teenwonder @saamwilscn @messuhp @username23345 @dontmindmejustreading @bitchuwish @blackxwidowsxwife @anxiousgoldengirl @russianredassassin @dailyavengering @blackluthxr @coxmicbabygirl @alytavzla @deathofmissjackson @1-800-gaygentsofshield @msmarvelsmain

sorry if i forgot to add anyone!!

#natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #hades!natasha x persephone!reader #hades!natasha #greek mythology au #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #my fics #natasha romanoff x reader #lgbt marvel #marvel au

224 notes · View notes

headheartbellarke · 4 years ago

Text

EIGHTEEN | Charlie Gillespie

PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x sister’s best friend!fem reader

WARNING(s): mentions of abuse, trauma, fluff

WORDS: 3.9k

SUMMARY: “So kiss me where I lay down

My hands pressed to your cheeks

A long way from the playground

I have loved you since we were 18

Long before we both thought the same thing

To be loved and to be in love

All I can do is say that these arms

Are made for holding you.”

READ ON AO3

OR READ HERE BELOW

Charlie smiles, watching the sunlight dance on Y/N’s face, almost like little splashes of golden paint. She hums to whatever song is playing through her earphones, a faint smile teasing the corners of her lips. Her eyes are closed, and Charlie marvels at how peaceful and serene she looks. Her h/c hair surrounds her head like a halo, and he is tempted to reach forward and press a kiss to her temple.

He doesn’t do that, of course. Instead, he gets up from his couch and joins Y/N on the floor, lying beside her. Her eyelashes flutter at his movement and quaint, kind e/c eyes hold his stare, eyebrows raised in question.

“I thought you said that you were too mighty for the floor.” She teases, biting her lower lip to hide a smile. Charlie almost melts at that.

“I never said that. Is everything okay up there?” He points his index finger at her head.

The young woman of nineteen laughs mockingly. “Why, afraid you’re rubbing off your crazy on me?”

Charlie rolls his eyes, and shifts closer to her, their arms touching slightly – and even that slight touch makes him feels butterflies in his stomach. It’s not uncommon, of course. Ever since he realized that he is indeed in love with her, anything that she does gives him butterflies. He doesn’t mind, of course – but he hates the fact that he is unable to tell her what effect she has on him. So, he resorts to ignoring or suppressing everything he feels for his little sister’s best friend instead.

She pulls out an ear pod from her left ear and shoves it into Charlie’s ear. Eastside. She’s had this song on repeat, ever since she came to visit him in Vancouver, where he’s filming for the first season of Julie and The Phantoms.

“I love this song. Reminds me of my first boyfriend. Remember him?” She says, softly.

“Aaron. How could I forget? You begged me to cover for you at home so you could hang out with him.” He says, smiling softly at the memory. They were so young, Y/N just fourteen, and him sixteen. He remembers Y/N sitting beside him on the couch while he was watching a movie, all flushed and bothered, eyes continuously flitting to Charlie. He remembers saying, “I know you’re dying to tell me something.”

She had nodded, looking around the Gillespies’ living room where they were currently seated in, apprehensively. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

He had jutted out his pinky finger and wrapped it around hers. “Never.”

“I think I really, really, super-duper like Aaron.”

“Aaron as in your next-door neighbor?”

“Yep.”

Charlie had smirked. “He’s such a dork. I can’t believe that you like him.”

“Shut up, Char. He’s the sweetest.”

He chuckled. “His hobby is taking pictures of trees… if that doesn’t scream ‘dork’, then I don’t know what does.”

She had glared at him while Megan had entered the room, plopping down on the couch beside Charlie. “What’s up?”

“I’m telling him about Aaron, and he thinks that he’s a dork.”

Megan shrugged. “What’s wrong with that? He’s really cute. Also, he was asking about you today.”

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes brightened. Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “You girls are weird. But I approve. He’s a nice kid.”

“I wasn’t looking for your approval?”

“Yes, you were.”

The girls had rolled their eyes at him and he had wrapped his arms around the two.

Y/N’s voice brings him back to the present. “Simple times.”

Charlie faces her. “Everyone after him were horrible.”

She narrows her eyes at the boy beside her. “No, you were just too overprotective.”

“Nope. They were all horrible.”

They weren’t. Charlie just hated anyone who showed an interest in Y/N. At first, he thought that it was probably because he had literally watched her grow up. But a couple of months later, when he watched her kiss Levitt from the swim team, he had felt a smoldering rage rise in his stomach, along with his heart clenching. That day, he had realized that maybe there was more to it than watching her grow up. A couple more months later, on his eighteenth birthday, when she had kissed him on his cheek and handed him a present wrapped in shiny, blue paper, he had felt butterflies in his stomach. He also could feel the ghost of her delicate lips against his skin for days after, like the remnants of a fire brushing against his cheek.

When he unwrapped the present, he found a vintage, hardbound copy of his favorite book, Les Misérables, along with a note, saying: ‘I might’ve read your journal. Only the part about how much you loved hardcovers and the part about how much you hated the fact that no bookstores nearby sold it. Well, I also might’ve read the part about how frustrated you are with microwave timers. I feel you, dude. But, yeah, remember when I said that I was going to visit my sister in Montoc? I lied, LOL. I went to a vintage bookstore in Fredericton. I’m sorry for lying, but ‘twas for a good reason, huh? Hope you like this. Also, you’re my second favorite person, after Meg. Happy 18th, Charles. Love, Y/N.’

That moment he had realized that he was completely, utterly, truly, madly, deeply in love with his little sister’s best friend.

It’s been about three years since that, and he still hasn’t told her how he feels.

Now, Y/N looks at him, and rolls her eyes. “Sheesh.”

She props herself on her elbow. “When are we going out today?”

“Jeremy said that he made a reservation at 6. So, we’ll leave half an hour earlier.”

“Okay. Is Owen going with us?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust him to drive in Canada.”

She grins. “He’s cool.”

“Maybe sometimes.”

“Savannah and Madi are the coolest, though.”

“Definitely, yeah.”

“You never told me that you had a cute roomie, though.”

“Yeah – wait what?”

Y/N flashes him a teasing smile and pushes herself upward with the palm of her hands. She brushes off her yoga pants and extends an arm to Charlie who is currently panicking inside.

“Do you like Owen?”

“What if I do?”

Charlie must have looked as horrified as he had felt because she laughs and says, “I’m just messing with you.”

“Thank god.”

***

“Finally!” Y/N yells, kicking off her black, leather heels, which land near Charlie’s feet. He laughs, kicking them to the side.

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I dare you to wear heels like that for a day. See how you feel.”

Owen pipes from behind them, closing the door to their apartment. “Oh, I did. My friend Dani made me wear them for a video. It was the most painful day of my life.”

“See!” Y/N high fives his roommate as Charlie scrunches up his face. “How’d she find heels in your size, dude?”

He laughs, and extends an arm toward the other two, who hand him their coats, muttering ‘thank you’ individually. He walks inside, yelling, “I’m fucking tired. Going to sleep.”

“Don’t forget to check the stove!” Charlie yells back, hearing his roommate affirm his request.

It’s just the two of them standing in the foyer now, and Charlie can’t stop staring at her. She’s wearing this beautiful red dress that compliments her skin perfectly, clinging to her body in all the right places – he had himself gifted her this dress on her nineteenth birthday. (Not really. His mother had picked the dress.)

She hasn’t noticed him staring, though.

“Ugh, I can’t wait to get out of this dress.” She walks inside.

Charlie pauses and purses his lips, trying to stop himself from picturing him doing it. He breathes out raggedly and follows her inside – trying (and failing) to shove that mental picture away.

Reaching the living room, he falls back onto the couch, which has been his bed for the past few days that Y/N has been here. She had protested, of course. But she already has so much trouble sleeping – she’s had it ever since she was a child.

Y/N hadn’t had the best childhood. Charlie faintly remembers his mom pulling him and his sister into the kitchen one day when Y/N left their house after spending the whole day there.

“Mom? What happened to Y/N?” Megan had asked, childlike innocence dripping off her tone.

Charlie had nodded, saying, “How’d she fall down the stairs? That bruise looked nasty.”

Their mother had sighed, and Charlie still remembers the pain in her eyes. “Honey. I want you to listen carefully, okay? And not tell anyone. You two think you can do that?”

They nodded enthusiastically.

“There are good people in this world – like Y/N. But there are also bad people, people who hurt the good people. And sometimes, sometimes, your parents can also be bad people.”

“That’s not true!” Megan had protested, their mother smiling.

“Maybe not for you. I hope so. But Y/N’s parents – they aren’t the best people, okay? They…uh… I’m not going to excuse their actions. They, uh, hurt Y/N.”

“So, they pushed her down the stairs?” Charlie asked, his eyes widened. He could not understand how the people that loved you the most could do that to you, especially to someone like Y/N. He’s known her his entire life, ever since the Y/L/Ns moved next door when he was still in diapers.

“I don’t know. Something happened. She was too shaken up to talk about it.”

“But – but – she’s the best person ever! Why would her mom and dad do that to her?” Megan had protested, eyes welling with tears at the thought of her best friend getting hurt.

“I don’t know, honey. I wish I did, I really do.” Their mother paused for a long moment. “I want you two to always be nice to her, alright? No matter what happens. Because, right now, she feels alone. I can see it in her eyes – she’s scared, confused, lonely. I know you two love her so much, and I want you guys to make sure that she knows it, okay? Make sure that she never feels lonely, all right? Make sure that she’s always safe and comfortable, as long as she’s with us, you.”

They had nodded, their hearts welling up with love for their friend.

After their mother hugged the two of them, Charlie’s twelve-year-old sister had run off to the other room, to call her best friend and tell her just how much she loves her.

Charlie had lingered in the kitchen, too sad over what he’d just been told.

“Maman?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can’t we just keep her for ourselves?”

“If we could, we would. I would like nothing more. But that’s absolutely not legal, mon chéri.”

“Oh. That’s unfair.”

His mother had flashed him a sad smile. He had taken both of his hands in his, and said sincerely, “I promise you, maman. I’m always gonna protect her. No matter what.”

His mother had pressed a kiss into his tousled hair and whispered, “I expect nothing less.”

It’s been more than seven years since, but Charlie still does everything in his power to make sure that she is always safe and happy.

“Hey, Char?” Her voice brings him back from his childhood.

“Yeah?”

“That couch doesn’t look comfortable.” She shrugged one shoulder.

“It is! I promise you.” He lied. It definitely wasn’t comfortable. The blinding pain in his neck is proof of that.

“Don’t lie to me. Come on, sleep in your bed.”

He shook his head.

“You’re not gonna sleep on the couch, Y/N. Seriously. You’re right, it’s too uncomfortable.”

“I wasn’t gonna. We’ll sleep together. That came out wrong. I mean, we can both sleep in the same bed, we’re both adults.”

Charlie wanted to protest, but the hopeless romantic in him drowned all objections.

“We’ll put pillows between us, okay? And it’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before. Remember my seventeenth? We were so drunk that we thought that the bed was a magnet, and we were screws.” She continued, looking away.

Charlie smiled up at her, remembering the feeling he had the next morning when he had woken up to find Y/N curled up into him, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. “All right. If it’s okay with you.”

She nods, walking into his bedroom, with Charlie following close behind. Both them wordlessly change and freshen up in the bathroom, and Charlie falls face first in his bed.

“Oh. My. God.”

Y/N laughs, sitting at the corner of his bed. “Knew it.”

Charlie grins at her, feeling absolutely euphoric, especially with the buzz from all the drinks he’s had tonight still lingering in his head like a tattoo kiss. She slides under the covers, burrowing her face into the soft pillows. “I can’t function anymore. Bye.”

He laughs softly, squeezing her shoulder, to which she softly smiles. He slides under the cover, resting on his side to face her, or rather a mess of h/c hair and soft, rhythmic breaths. He closes his eyes, switching off the light, but he knows that he will not be getting much sleep tonight, especially with the fuzzy citrus scent of her perfume everywhere and the heat from her body consuming him.

***

It’s 1:20 AM and Charlie can’t sleep. Turns out that being in the same bed with the girl he’s been in love with since he was eighteen is a very, very bad idea. He’s put as much space between them as possible, yet he still feels vigilant and hot. His mind is betraying him: all he can think about is how beautiful she looks when the moonlight streaming through his window is casting shadows on her face, or how she’s sometimes saying things (really, really weird things, though – Charlie doesn’t understand anything), how much she looks like a little cat while she’s snuggled into the covers, or how she flails her arms while she’s asleep.

He considers crashing in Owen’s room for the night. But as soon as Y/N starts moving around, still sleeping, he holds that thought and watches her instead.

He can see her getting agitated, as she tosses and turns. She continues murmuring something, but it’s still all jumbled, and it hits Charlie.

He props himself on his elbow and leans close to her face. “Y/N. Hey. Come back to me. Y/N. Honey. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

She gasps, as consciousness floods in her system. She looks confused for a second, and Charlie sits up, right beside her. “Listen to me. You’re safe. I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

She exhales, eyes closing for a second.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks when her breathing has turned cadenced.

Her eyes widen and lips part. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize for that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I just – ever since I left home, I’ve been getting these nightmares.” She says, softly. Charlie lays next to her, turning to face her, while she mirrors his actions.

“What do you see?” He asks.

“Mostly my childhood. You know, my dad pushing me down the stairs. Or my mother telling me that I’m a horrible person and no one will ever love me, and she should have aborted me. Or my dad breaking the mirror the one time I got a B in math. Or my parents fighting. Or – you know, just a montage of my parents’ greatest hits.”

She breathes out shakily.

“Getting away didn’t stop the nightmares, huh?” He asks, resting a hand on her warm cheek.

She scoots closer. “No. They still text me sometimes, mostly to remind me that I’m a terrible person and that I’m gonna go to hell for walking out on them and not going to Harvard.”

“Y/N, don’t you dare –”

“No. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Walking out was the best decision that I’ve ever made.”

He smiles softly at her.

“You and Megan… god, you two saved my life. I would never have had the courage to get this far if it wasn’t for you guys.”

“No, honey. It was all you. You’re the strongest person we know.”

“Shush. Let me compliment you in peace. You guys are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know.”

She smiles, reaching forward to tangle run her hands through Charlie’s hair. They were dangerously close now: Charlie could see the curve of her nose, the lingering red lipstick color on her lips and count the number of eyelashes she has.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to us, too.”

Charlie can feel something in the space between them, something pulling them close. It is cold outside, but here, in the cocoon they’ve created, he feels warm and at home.

“Like, thank you so much for pushing me to get into law school. Now, I’m learning how to help millions of little girls who are going through what I went through, and it makes everything worth it. I feel like I don’t say this enough, but Charlie. Thank you for everything.”

He smiles, trying to retort something funny but her proximity has jumbled his mind.

“I know you’re really busy with your life, but thanks for still thinking of me sometimes.”

That breaks Charlie out of his daze. “What?”

“You know. You’re in a Netflix show, working with Kenny freaking Ortega and all these incredible people – and I’m enormously proud of you, by the way – and… well, you’ll soon not have that much time for your little sister’s best friend, you know?”

“You’re not just my little sister’s best friend, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m your friend, alright. But soon you’ll be meeting celebrities and models and actors and then you wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”

Charlie furrows his brows. “Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

“I just had a lot of time to think today.” She turns on her back, facing the ceiling.

He hates the fact that she is so unpredictable: he never knows what’s going on in her head or what she is feeling. That’s one of the reasons that he’s kept his feelings for her a secret for almost three years.

“I saw you with that model today. At the bar. Uh. So, I thought that you’re probably gonna meet a lot of them in LA. Models and Hollywood girls and all that. So, you’ll probably not have any time for me anymore.”

Charlie shakes his head, recalling the model he was talking to earlier today. Or rather, yesterday. Carol. She was really nice, sweet, and beautiful – and definitely interested in Charlie. But his focus had been on Y/N, who was having a dance off with Owen and Savannah, all evening – or rather, all the time. He had tried to focus on the Carol, he really did – but after an hour, she herself realized that he wasn’t into her and whispered a ‘good luck with her’ to him before leaving to go back to her friends.

“Y/N, that’s not true –”

“It’s okay, Charlie. It’s good. Your life shouldn’t be stuck in the same place. It should be getting better, and you should be meeting new people, you know? You’ve been alone for a weirdly long time and it’s freaking your mom out. So, I know you’re gonna fall in love with someone and then you’ll be too busy –”

“God, Y/N, how are you so fucking oblivious?” Charlie snaps, annoyance coursing through his veins.

Her eyes widen at his harsh tone of voice, and it shocks Charlie, too. He’s never, ever raised his voice at her.

“What?”

Maybe it’s having her so incredibly close that causes him to finally snap. “Y/N, I have been in love with you ever since I was eighteen. You’re the only person that I want, and you’re the reason that I’ve been alone for a weirdly long time.”

He immediately regrets saying that. Y/N is sitting up, and she is looking around everywhere, trying to avert Charlie’s eyes. He hides his face behind his hands, sinking deeper into the covers and trying to create a hole and fall down to the center of the earth.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink today.”

He groans into his hands, glad that he’s under the covers and the girl can’t see his absolutely scarlet face. “Oh, for god’s sake. Dude. I wrote you an entire ballad when I was nineteen because I realized that this is exactly what’s gonna happen – that I’m always gonna be in love with you, and you’re always gonna think of me as your best friend’s older brother.”

He feels the covers shift above his head, and is greeted with Y/N’s face, a vulnerable look in her eyes. “Do you really mean it?”

“Of course, I do. You’re my family – do you really think that I’m gonna joke about something like this and ruin our friendship? The only reason I’m even telling you this is because I’m incredibly frustrated that you’re so oblivious and you’re so fucking pretty. And so close. See, this is exactly why I wanted to sleep on the couch. Because I knew that I would lose it.”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement and her lips are on his’, and they’re kissing, kissing, kissing. Charlie is too shocked to do anything at first but as soon as the warmth courses through his system and the butterflies go wild in his gut, he pulls her closer, rising up. She sits in his lap, straddling him, their hands getting lost in each other’s hairs – both of them trying to be closer, closer, closer to make up for all the lost years and to keep feeling the contentment that they feel from just being close to each other. She tastes like Charlie’s mint toothpaste and his dreams – like everything he’s ever wanted.

As they separate for air, Y/N rests her forehead on his. “I thought you knew.”

“What?” He’s surprised to find his voice hoarse.

“That I’m in love with you.”

He can’t stop the grin on his face from escaping. “What?”

“I thought Meg told you. Or your mum. Or anyone really. Everyone’s called me out on it. I’ve always had a crush on you but dating all those guys in high school made me realize that I was kind of, you know, in love with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Same reason as you. You’re my family, Charlie. I didn’t wanna lose what we have just because of… you know.”

Y/N slides off his lap and lies on the bed, next to him and he mirrors her actions, and she rests her head on his chest, the frantic beating in his chest her background music. He drapes an arm around her shoulders, desperate to have her close.

“We’re both cowards, eh?”

She giggles.

“Wait. Meg knew?”

“Of course. She’s my best friend.”

“You know, one day I got drunk and told her that ‘I’m 100% attracted to your best friend sexually and emotionally and everythingally.’ I kept wondering why she was laughing.”

“I hate her.” She buries her face in Charlie’s chest, giggling.

Charlie laughs and pulls her in for another kiss, desperate to hold her again, to feel the high he only feels around her. She smiles against his lips, before a thought occurs to him. “Wait. You were jealous of the bar girl, weren’t you?”

“Shut up, you dork.”

They’re only half aware of the snowstorm raging outside from the warm cocoon they’ve created in each other’s arms. Maybe miracles really do exist.

***

drop a message in my ask or in my messages if u wanna be on the jatp taglist!! requests are also open <3

464 notes · View notes

cheesy09 · 3 years ago

Text

Scorching Night

This oneshot was based off of Kiro’s Stardust Date, and takes place right after it (Because the angst in that date was immaculate 😩)

I know it's been a while since I've written anything, so I sincerely thank you guys for sticking around (´꒳`)♡

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Kiro x MC (third person POV) Word Count: 2,800 Genres: Romance, Angst (a lot of it T^T) Warnings: Super suggestive!

"The reward I want more right now... is you."

His soft words echoed in the back of her head, along with the memory of his scorching lips. The wrapping of an insatiable tongue around her own, the taste of him intoxicatingly sweet; so much so, that she wanted to drown in him.

She knows she shouldn't think about it too much, but that scene was engraved in her mind. Playing on repeat, over and over; like a broken record.

The burning touch, his breathless whispers, and the half-lidded gaze that carried a mixture of light and shadow in its unfathomable depths...

She blushed at the thoughts running through her head. Especially since the subject of said 'thoughts' was now seated right next to her in the back of the car, their shoulders only mere inches apart. She could feel his warmth, even though they weren't touching, making the tiny space all the more suffocating.

Ever since they left the concert venue, Kiro hadn't said a thing. Nor did she, for that matter. If Savin was here he would have frowned once he noticed the odd silence between them, but he wasn’t, which she was grateful for because she didn't know how she would have reacted. And even worse, how she would've faced Kiro.

After all, she couldn't stop thinking of him; the way he kissed her, his lips burning against her own...

Or the way he called her name after that, his voice dyed in the colors of a fire; warm and passionate.

By no way was that their first kiss. Not by a long shot. But the urgency of his lips on hers had left her dizzy and short of breath.

She thought back to those warm, sultry nights—nights just like this one—when hands wandered a little too far, and makeouts got a little too intense. Moments when that velvety voice of his—his whispers and soft sighs—were hers and hers alone. The memories sent a shiver down her spine and she forced herself to stop thinking, lest she sailed into even more treacherous waters.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes.

Kiro was looking out the window, a hand tucked under his chin, seemingly lost in thought. The passing street lights cast a faint glow on his features, illuminating his intense and solemn eyes.

She couldn't tell what it was that he was thinking about, but he suddenly moved and let out a faint breath, running a hand through his hair, his long fingers raking through the silky blonde strands and exposing his clean forehead.

Then his hand slid down, following the slender curve of his neck to his chest, and he undid a button of his shirt. He let out another light sigh and fell back against the car seat, his expression carrying a hint of tiredness and frustration.

Seeing that, she frowned, and couldn't help asking "Is something wrong?"

Not expecting the question, Kiro's eyes shot in her direction. His blue irises darkened slightly, and then unhurriedly looked away as he instinctively slid his hand into his hair again, his posture languid and a tad bit sexy.

"Nothing, it's just..." his tongue—one that had been wonderfully exploring her mouth just a few hours ago—flitted out, and slowly wetted his bottom lip. "...really hot."

His voice was low, sitting on the edge of something. But his words seemed to have an added layer to them, hot and heavy, as if they were heated up by the burning tip of his tongue. She felt her heart rate speed up, and her face burn, the sizzling tension between them so thick, it was almost overwhelming.

"Yeah," she replied, shyly tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, her voice so soft even she could barely hear it. "It is."

She shifted her sight then to look out the window, but she could feel Kiro's smoldering gaze on her, searing into her skin, which just made her cheeks grow redder.

She didn't know why, but ever since his declaration of love a few days ago, Kiro had been acting a bit differently than usual. His body language became more and more solemn with each passing day, and even those unwavering eyes of his got a tad bit brighter.

Like he had made up his mind about something.

What it was, she didn’t know. But what she did know was that whatever it was, it made her uneasy.

“Promise me, alright? Don’t forget me even if I leave.”

The words he had spoken then sounded grim and final, laced with so much yearning it took her breath away.

Her heart ached. The Kiro she had been holding then had felt like mist. Like he could have evaporated the second she took her eyes off him. Distant and vulnerable. Lonely. And the fact that he was leaving the country tomorrow for a photoshoot made her even more anxious.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A tender voice rang out close, intimate. She turned.

She didn't know when, but Kiro had moved closer to her, approaching her with those brilliant azure orbs, closing the distance between them. His body heat radiated off of him in warm currents, sucking out the very air from the atmosphere until all she could breath and touch was him. He smelled of fresh pine and musk, invading her senses, making her ears buzz and her tongue fuzzy.

Just like the way he barged into her life, she thought. With his dazzling smiles and warm hugs, occupying ever nook and corner with his existence, stealing her mind, body and soul.

By God, she loved him. She loved him more than life itself.

She didn't know if she had been aware that their driver wasn't watching or if she just didn't care, but she leaned up and pecked him on the corner of his mouth, lacing their fingers together in the dark empty space between their bodies, as if filling a void.

She felt possessed, her desire to get closer to him emboldening her to press further into him, breathing in his scent and burying her face in the crook of his neck. "Mmm... you smell really nice," she sighed wistfully.

She felt Kiro stiffen under her, and his grip on their interlaced fingers instantly tightened. She could almost the picture the turbulence in his eyes when he said "God, you are making this so much harder."

Kiro's breath was ragged and his voice dark and guttural, carrying with it something unspoken that made her heart thud and a fire stir in the pit of her stomach. She raised her head to look into his eyes and felt her breath catch at the storm that was brewing within them. They flickered down to her parted lips, and she suddenly felt hot all over.

"We’ve arrived, sir," a voice called from the front and they both instinctively pulled back, the spell broken.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

The walk to the front door of his house had been a silent one, neither of them knowing what to say. Her mind was in a frenzy, and her heart was doing no better. All of her thoughts seemed to center around only one person.

"Just so you know," Kiro's voice broke through her thoughts, now back to its usual chipper, as he opened the door to his house. "I didn't really have time to clean up, so my place is in a bit of a mess. Don't say I didn't warn you."

She laughed, slightly relaxing under the usual, familiar atmosphere.

Kiro was a mystery in that sense. On one hand he could leave her all hot and bothered, desperately wanting his hands on her. And on the other hand, he could make her laugh and be free. "No worries. It's not like I'm any better."

"Oh, yeah! I still remember those dozens of magazines of me on your bed-"

"Kiro!" She whined, red with embarrassment. "I thought you said you would forget about that!"

"I made no promises," he replied, with feigned solemnness.

They walked into the house, their laughter ringing, and as soon as the lights turned on, she spotted the packed suitcases and travel bags in the living room, coldly reminding her of the fact that Kiro was still supposed to leave the very next morning.

She was used to it—constantly having to separate from him. Their jobs had required that of them. They would text and video call each other every day to fill in that void.

But for some reason, today was different.

Her chest felt tight, and she took in a shaky breath.

"I see you're all set for tomorrow," she remarked as Kiro discarded his jacket onto the sofa, leaving himself in only a black shirt and dark jeans. She had to stop herself from letting her eyes rove over the exposed skin of his well-defined collarbones, and instead, looked towards the side, her hands clenched into fists, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Stop getting tempted, she chided herself.

Kiro gazed at the baggage and laughed, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. My flight’s at ten in the morning, so I had to pack early.” Saying that, he walked towards her, his familiar body temperature approaching her again.

His eyes were like blue flames, torching her soul, fanning the flames that never stopped burning. She swallowed, rapidly turning towards the door. Her voice sounded a little flustered. “Then I’ll take your leave. You should go and rest up for tomorrow.”

She was almost there, only an inch away, but before she could even touch the door handle, a scorching hand wrapped around her waist and her back was instantly pulled up against a firm chest.

She felt his breath before she heard him speak.

“Where do you think you’re going, Miss Chips?” he whispered, his voice shaded with sensuality. Dark and hungry. “You need to finish what you started.”

“What’re you talking about?” She sighed, automatically leaning back into his touch, her heart racing a mile a minute. “You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“Maybe,” he murmured. “But you’re the one who kept the fire going.”

His hand reached up above her and before she knew it, the lights were switched off.

“Kiro, you—”

“Stay.” His hot lips pressed against her ear and a shiver ran down her spine. “Please stay.”

Kiro’s arms had completely encircled her at that point, and she was distracted by the movement of his lips over her skin as they travelled from her neck, down to her bare shoulder. She couldn’t help but sigh blissfully in his arms.

“You may have to look for me next time.”

Suddenly, his words from earlier came crashing into her mind, like an unexpected boulder, snapping her back to reality. The unease was back, like a snake coiling around her heart, and she opened her eyes in a daze.

“Kiro....” Even in her own ears, she could hear the longing that filled that whisper. That drunkenness from before came over her again and she hooked a hand around his neck, softly caressing his nape.

Kiro purred at her touch, and she turned her head to the side, her lips brushing his cheek in the process. “Don’t go,” she pleaded.

He froze for a second, body almost rigid, and silent... But then sighed the very next instant, spinning her around and pinning her up against a wall. She didn’t even have time to think before she felt his mouth latching onto hers.

The temperature instantly spiked up, and she felt her body ignite against him. Their lips moved in sync, expressing something that couldn't be put to words.

Pain, reluctance, longing, desire.

She didn't know why, but the way he kissed her made her heart ache.

Her hands were on the front of his shirt and she stroked the skin of his collarbones and chest, eliciting a soft groan out of him as he shivered. Kiro was lean, and firm; beautifully sculpted under her palms, and she felt her fingers travelling down, undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt.

"Miss Chips...." Kiro sighed against her mouth, and hooked his arms under her legs, prompting her to wrap them around his waist. He put his lips over her eyes, nose, chin and throat, his kisses like silk, melting into her skin. She gasped when she felt him suck on the sensitive spot of her neck.

"Mmm... Kiro, c-can we go to the bedroom first?" she whispered, her legs itching to pull him closer. His black shirt was now creased and disheveled, slipping past his shoulders, the dark material offering a beautiful contrast to his white skin under the pale moonlight.

He was gorgeous. So incredibly, undeniably gorgeous.

Her love, her light.

What would she ever do without him?

Kiro slowly pulled away from her neck, leaned up and kissed her again, softly this time, but still enough to steal away her breath again. It was tender and affectionate, but belied a passion that was on the verge of loosing control.

It made her heart skip a beat.

He laughed breathlessly against her lips, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

"Your wish is my command, my Miss Chips."

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Ten seconds. That’s how long it took them to get to the bedroom.

It was like a secret shared in the darkness. One that was littered with kisses and soft sighs. Charming and intoxicating, just like him.

As soon as she locked the door of his room behind them, his hand latched onto the back of her head, and he drew her into that sweet vortex once again.

Their bodies pressed together with urgency and their hungry mouths moved, as if trying to rob each other of breath. His unbuttoned shirt had left his chest exposed to her, and she trailed her fingers over his skin in a slow, sensuous drag, making him gasp into her mouth and press into her even harder.

As if in retaliation, his tongue slipped in between her lips and she moaned with pleasure at the sensation. She knew it. He was driving her nuts.

And yet, despite all of this, those daunting fears and anxiety over his departure never seemed to dissipate.

They tugged at her nerves, as if taunting her, causing her to kiss him harder, pull him closer.

The two had reached the edge of the bed by then, and she pushed him to sit down, straddling him in the process.

Kiro's eyes were half-lidded and dilated, a look of complete intoxication casted over his beautiful features. Golden hair framed his face and his cheeks were flushed under her fingertips. Looking at his perfectly messy appearance, a small bit of pride bloomed in her chest. She hoped she made him at least half as crazy as he made her.

She felt tears burn in the corner of her eyes.

Who was she kidding? She'd never be able to let go.

"Miss Chips?" She heard Kiro call when he felt her grip tighten over his shirt. She had been oddly quiet the past few seconds and he was starting to get worried. "Is something wrong?"

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "Don't leave," she whispered urgently.

She dropped another kiss on the side of his nose, caressing his cheeks. "Please don't."

One on the corner of his lips. She could hear the crack in her voice and the moisture gathered over her eyelashes was enough to tell her she was about to cry. "Don’t go somewhere where my hands can't reach you."

"M-miss Chips," Kiro pleaded, his whisper breathy and soft, his eyes barely open in the face of her intensity. They were so close, just a few centimeters apart, and their hot breaths entangled in the space between them.

"Even if it's a lie, tell me you won't leave me," she said, desperation clouding her mind. Her lips ran over the shell of his ear, trying to place feverish kisses over every inch of him.

She tried not to look at his expression. To see the pain and sadness that flashed in those deep sea blue eyes. Because if she did, she would break.

Kiro paused for a moment. A brief instance of hesitation. The only sounds were their rapid and heavy breathing.

"I won't."

His voice was low, barely even there. But hearing his words, her heart finally grew somewhat at ease. She finally closed the gap between them then, kissing him square on the mouth. Slowly, deeply.

She'd worry about the rest of those unfinished words in the morning. But for tonight, they had each other, and that was enough.

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my works, please refer to my masterlist (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

#mlqc #mlqc fanfiction #mlqc kiro #kiro fanfiction #mlqc fanfic #kiro fanfic #oof that was one angsty end wasn't it?#NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO DIG MYSELF A HOLE AND HIDE THERE

69 notes · View notes

thatesqcrush · 3 years ago

Text

The Auction, Pt. 2

Bryan Kneef x Reader. CW: discussion of sex work, "being bidded on/purchased" touching of reader - but its consensual, vaginal fingering, language. WC: 2K.

You met with the brains of the organization for a long time. Her name was Cordelia and according to her, you were “a perfect candidate” as she eyed you up and down.

“How does this work? Is this safe? ” You asked, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “How much of a cut do I get? And don't bullshit me.”

“Ah, I’ve always appreciated a woman who gets down to brass tacks.” Cordelia replied. “The cut is 50/50, off the books. We’ll screen your sexual health, of course. While those results are pending, we’ll vet you - make sure you’re of sanity and have no criminal background. This is all done behind closed doors - no one in your immediate life would be the wiser. If that’s all clear, we will arrange the date for the auction. In the meantime, we like to invest in our ladies once they’re cleared - meaning we’ll make arrangements for hair, makeup, clothes, and the like.”

You swallowed hard. “I can assure you, I’m clean. I haven’t had many partners prior.”

Cordelia nodded. “Well, then we have nothing to worry about.”

Your test results came and you received a clean bill of health. The next step was to be primped and polished. Naturally you were middle of the road - some days you could be really girly and other days, not. You weren’t tethered to any one style. But it had been awhile since you were ever able to relax, so when you were sent to a spa for a day of treatment, you jumped at the chance.

After, it was onto shopping.

You felt like Vivian from Pretty Woman as salespersons brought you dress after dress while you got your hair and makeup done. The request from Cordelia was ‘sexy, not slutty.’

You settled on a red hot mini dress with a v-neckline and center ruching for added dimension. Finishing the look was a pair of simple heels that showed off your toned gams and a pair of jeweled hoop earrings. You hardly recognized yourself in your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror in the store. ‘This is one night; you’re playing a role.’ You told yourself. You figured if you repeated it enough times, you’d believe it.

An unmarked car came to collect you once you were done, driving you straight to the location where the auction was taking place.

You knew there would be other women there from Bonnie. What you didn’t realize was that you’d be going very last. Your nerves were starting to fry and your stomach was twisted in knots. You sipped water through a straw so as to not ruin your lipstick. Finally, there was a rap on the door and Cordelia poked her head in.

“Darling, it’s your time to shine. Now go earn your worth.”

You could hear raucous laughter, cheering and applause from behind where you stood. The music pounded and you could feel it in your bones.

Finally, the door opened - it was pitch black on the other side, save a spotlight. You said a quick prayer, even though you weren’t very religious as you stepped into the light.

Once there, the light adjusted to a more dim version and you were able to focus your vision on the crowd before you. Music played quietly in the background before a woman began to speak - someone who sounded very much like Cordelia.

What she says next and what is said after, is all blur. Bids begin to roll in and it’s in that moment you realized you were nothing more than a hooker, using your body as a means to an end. Humiliation flowed through you - you didn’t feel like you - you didn’t feel as good as you thought. Instead your worth was measured in bank rolls.

You scanned the room, men of all shapes, sizes, colors and creeds were there, waving their black AmEx cards like they were charging a steak dinner. And that’s how you felt - you were a lamb being slaughtered.

The gavel banged and you heard Cordelia exclaim, “Sold! To Mr. Bryan Kneef for two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

You whipped your head at Cordelia. Had you heard her correctly? Two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars? The fact that you got to keep half made your head spin.

“And that concludes tonight’s auction. Winners may come to collect their prizes in the back.”

Cordelia wrapped her arm around your waist and began to whisk you away when you heard someone thank ‘Mr. Kneef for his payment.’ You turned to see who he was and in the dimmed light you saw it was ‘Mr. Mysterious.’

And you damn near passed out.

You sat in the room you were originally in. There was one security camera in place and Cordelia advised that winners liked to meet first before any further advances were to come.

Your leg bounced as you drank your water again. You felt as if you were there for hours but realistically it was mere moments.

The door opened and Mr. Mysteri—Kneef walked in. You smiled nervously at him and extended your arm. “Hi. Bryan, right?”

Bryan didn’t reply. Instead he gave you an intense, smoldering look. His cologne wafted over you, warm and woodsy causing your skin to goosebump.

You brought your arm back and clutched your hands behind your back. Bryan took another step towards you, as if he were trying to get a closer look at his purchase.

“Take off your clothes.” Bryan requested quietly. You opened your mouth to say something but the look in response along with a perfectly arched brow caused you to snap your mouth shut. “I want to see what I bought.”

You reached around, undoing the zipper - thankful it was along the side and not along your back.

You slid the dress off, strap by strap. You hadn’t worn a bra - just a nude thong which wasn’t even fancy - simple and basic, meant more for avoiding lines than anything else. The dress pooled at your feet and you stepped out of it. You moved to kick off your heels when Bryan interrupted you.

“Leave them on.”

You nodded and stood up, anxiously awaiting the next move.

Bryan removed his jacket and folded it neatly, hanging it over a chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt, showing off his muscular forearms with thick, meaty veins.

You looked up and saw the small security camera and realized this private show wasn’t so private. The sound of a finger snap brought you back to the present and you whipped your head towards Bryan. Your heart began to race and you wondered if you should just bolt. You tried to mentally measure the distance between you and the door.

Bryan approached you. His gaze softened, as if he were sorry for what he was about to say. “I’m going to touch you now. At any point if you want me to stop, I will. Consent is very important to me.”

“It is to me too.” You replied, meeting his gaze. After a beat, you continued. “You can touch me.”

His warm touch began rather innocently, along your arm up to along your shoulder. As he walked around you, he kept touching and feeling. His hand got to your ass and he let out a deep rumble as he squeezed the fat of your flesh.

Bryan walked around you. When he came around to the front of you, he cupped one breast with his hand, feeling the weight against his palm. You did your best to remain stoic, ignoring the bolt of pleasure that had shot down to your core. That changed when he firmly twisted your nipple, as you let out a moan as he did so. That earned another arched brow from him, as if taking mental notes.

He rounded you again, and you felt him close the small gap that remained. You felt his cock, hard, pressed against the small of your back. His fingers gently traced your arm and then brought it up, so it was around his neck. He ran his hand back down along your side, and you trembled under his touch. You were certain your heart was beating outside of your chest. When he got to the side of your ribs, he splayed out his hand, so his palm was against you. Slowly, his hand made way down to the apex of your legs.

“Open.” He rumbled in your ear quietly and you followed his instructions. Your breath hitched as his hand cupped your mound. Bryan’s fingers then moved to stroke you softly, teasing your clit and then moving back to stroke your folds. Your pussy grew wet, your breath became more labored as he continued his ministrations. You bit your bottom lip as he slowly but surely worked you to orgasm. Just when you thought you weren’t going to be able to take anymore, Bryan sunk a thick finger inside your soaked pussy. Your pussy clenched around his finger tightly and you let out a wrecked moan in response.

“You’re so wet and we haven’t even started.” Bryan murmured. His beard against your cheek added another layer of sensation. There was no resistance when Bryan sunk another thick finger and began to pump them in and out of you. The sound of wet filled the room and your legs felt wobbly as you gripped around Bryan’s neck harder. Your other hand found his free hand and you brought it up to your breast, encouraging him.

“I’m so close.” You panted. “Oh fuck!”

“Come for me like a good girl.” Bryan growled as he rubbed your clit with the fat pad of his thumb. He used his other hand to pinch your nipple again and you arched against him, coming so hard that you drew his fingers further in.

“That’s it, that’s it.” Bryan praised. “Oh sweetheart we’re going to have so much fun.” He slid his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss.

Bryan spun you around to face him. You were a mess as you watched him admire his wet fingers in the light. Bryan brought them to you and you took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them of your juices and then imitating as to what you could do with your mouth.

Bryan gave you a salacious smile as he withdrew his fingers. He traced them along your cheek, leaving a wet trail to your mouth where he rubbed your bottom lip.

“I definitely got my money’s worth with you.” Bryan replied. “Go home, get some sleep. I’ll have arrangements made so we can have even more fun.”

You watched as he walked away, grabbing his suit jacket and exiting without so much as a second glance. You stayed frozen in place for another five minutes or so, until you realized you could redress and go home.

The car ride home left you with more questions than answers and more horny than ever. Your battery operated boyfriend ran through its battery as you replayed the evening over and over as you were too wired to sleep from the earlier events.

Eventually you did, with Bryan’s name still on your lips.

TBC.

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beccabarba @dreamlover31 @dreamlover31 @prurientpuddlejumper @sass-and-suspenders @youreverycolor @neely1177 @witches-unruly-heart @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @greeneyedblondie44 @mommakat32 @teamsladsandgents @detective-giggles @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @ottosuricato @zoeykaytesmom @bananas-pajamas @law-nerd105

@storiesofsvu @pieceofshittytitty @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @whatisthislife28 @jazzyjoi @rampantmuses @rachelxwayne @qvid-pro-qvo @madamsnape921 @averyhotchner @alwaysachorusgirl @amelia-song-pond @tintinxtintin @wanniiieeee @blueberryt @crowfootwrites @emandems10 @berniesilvas @whoamelinda @its-just-me-chey @resparza @chunex @chasingeverybreakingwave @itsjustmyfantasyroom @bisexual-dreamer02

#bryan kneef imagine #bryan kneef smut #bryan kneef x reader #bryan kneef and reader #bryan kneef and you #bryan kneef x you #bryan kneef fanfic

83 notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 4 years ago

Text

You got questions, I got answers tonight, babe.

ೃ pairing: (pro hero! katsuki bakugo x pro hero! fem reader)

ೃ warnings: nsfw (18+)

ೃ genre: smut

ೃ word count: 2,139 words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ shoto’s valentines fic → izuku’s valentines fic → virtual valentines hcs

ೃ please reblog, reply or leave like if you enjoyed! it means a lot! c:

ೃ song inspo: love by dean ft. syd

ೃ you and the bakusquad drag bakugo to a short vacation after such an intense week of hero work, much to his annoyance. however, his stress and pent up energy was more than you expected, so you knew exactly how to release all his frustrations.

After an intense first week of Pro Hero activities, you were given a 5 day rest period. The Bakusquad had a wonderful idea of going on a short vacation to Okinawa before you guys have to face reality again.

You practically dragged your boyfriend, Bakugo to come along as he had second thoughts and didn’t want to ruin his so called “villain streak” by taking a well-deserved rest and relaxation when he could just continue fighting off villains.

Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, and Sero were so excited for this trip that they could not shut up about it. In turn, Katsuki was more irritated than usual as you take the plane ride there. He was forced to go on this trip after all.

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You had arrived late in afternoon and the first thing that you guys do as soon as you arrive at the hotel was dropping the bags in your respective hotel rooms. You and Bakugo were in one room while everyone else had separate rooms entirely to themselves.

Before you could even take a full look at the room you were staying in, your pink-haired friend came knocking on the door.

“(Y/N)-chan!” Mina spoke from behind the door, her gleeful voice ever so echoing. “We’ll meet you two at the swimming pool lounge okay? We’ll be ordering food already!”

“Alright! We’ll see you later Mina-chan!” You shout back, and as soon as Mina heard your words of confirmation, you could hear her footsteps as she walks away.

Bakugo continues to rummage through his things, cursing under his breath.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask him sweetly, poking his cheek. “Look, Katsuki-kun… you need to rest. It’s been an intense week, even the Hero Commission wanted us to-“

“Yea. Yea. I get it. Let’s go to the lounge.” He says harshly. He leaves the door open as you follow suit.

“That was… cold.” You blink, trying to process what your boyfriend had just said.

The two of you arrive at the lounge area however the rest of the Bakusquad was nowhere to be seen. Bakugo approaches a waiter and begins to order whilst you decided to go around the area to look for your other friends.

You were minding your own business when a weird and bad-intentioned man begins to approach you. You didn’t pay him any attention at first since you were occupied with looking for your friends, but the weirdo was persistent.

“A pretty girl like you alone in a resort like this?” He coos, trying to catch your attention. “I must be dreaming.”

“Piss off.” You snarled before he could even touch your arm, you quickly run back to Katsuki, as the weirdo loses sight of you. You slowly pace back to Bakugo who had an annoyed expression on his face. When you arrive at the area where he was standing, he grabs your hand and takes you to the elevator.

He clicks on the button that led to your floor and swipes the card key to your room, he comes to a sudden stop when you enter your dark hotel room, and he looks down at your hand in his like he’d forgotten he’d been holding it.

You pull Katsuki closer, twisting your hand around to take his more firmly.

His strong fingers fit perfectly between yours, and you know he can feel it too by the way he tightens his grip. His other hand settles on your waist, holding you against him, so close you can practically feel his heart beating.

“Did you really have to pull me out of the lounge area like that?” You pout seductively.

“Tch. (Y/N)….” He says your name in his low voice that sounds like an “I want you,” but you need to hear his actual words. You can see he’s so used to trying to brush things off that it’s an instinct, but he fights against it.

“Because I couldn’t stand to see an asshole try to make a move on you while I was at the other side of the area, waiting for the food. Who the hell gave him permission to even be within a few meters of you?”

His voice is irritated and strained. Your heart races under the intensity of his gaze, all his unspoken desire just beneath the surface.

“It’s okay Katsuki-kun. You saw how I brushed him off… What did you take me back here for?”

He moves suddenly, backing you against the wall. You gasp, and then he’s right there, pinning you to the surface, hands on either side of your head.

As you shift, you hit the light switch, and the room is illuminated, revealing the bed. Katsuki goes still as he sees it.

“Of fucking course. Of course Mina would book one bed instead of two.”

His voice is tight, barely restrained. As if he wants to release an intense surging energy inside him. Your body is attuned to his tension. He’s coiled so tight, you feel it radiating off of him.

“Katsuki. Answer me. What did you take me back here for?”

His eyes drop to your lips. You feel his breath skimming against them.

“The way that fucking sleezeball loser looked at you… I couldn’t help it. You’re everything. And I want you more than anything.” Your stomach swoops at his intensity. He’s finally giving you the honesty you’ve been asking for but your conscience chimes in for a second.

“Katsuki…”

He brushes his thumb against your lips, and it’s like a bolt of electricity races through you, leaving you tingling for him.

His stare becomes more and more intense, as if he was craving for something.

“(Y/N), tell me. Right here, right now, what do you want?”

“It’s you, Katsuki. I want you.”

He sucks in a breath then crashes his mouth to yours. You both let out moans as he pushes you harder against the door and you pull him closer.

He kisses you hard and you melt at the feel of his lips and tongue, the sounds of your gasps and needy moans filling the quiet hotel room.

“Fuck. I’ll never ever get enough of this. Every time I kiss you, I get more desperate for the next one.” His throaty groan makes your stomach swoop again, and you tangle your fingers into his spiky hair.

You wink at him, your eyes giving off the same passion and love in his. “Then don’t stop.”

He brushes his lips against yours. It feels so light, yet the desire and the lust behind it is so powerful you can’t help but not resist.

“(Y/N)…”

A shiver runs through you as his mouth covers yours. Everything narrows to the feeling of his kiss, slow and intense like he’s taking his time tasting you.

His hands slide down to your sides to hold your hips, the heat of his body radiating against yours.

As your desire grows, you try to deepen the kiss to match the rate of your racing heart, but he draws back as it starts to get intense.

His eyes smolder, intense and teasing at the same time.

He nips gently at your ear and you arch against him. His hands slide up to grip your waist, pulling you tight to his body while still pushing you back against the door.

“(Y/N)… say my name again…”

You crash your lips to his again, feeling and pouring all your desire and impatience into the kiss. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the door above your head, his show of power making you giddy. You arch against him, and he sucks in a harsh breath, fingers digging into your wrists with delicious pleasure.

Katsuki’s eyes darken, and he captures your mouth with a desperate kiss, tongue sliding against yours, leaving you breathless. You tip your head back against the door as he runs his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking with every inch of his love.

He grabs your hips and pulls you off the door, steering you to the center of the room. You throw your arms around him and speak with your lips pressed onto his. You moan as he kisses down your neck, gasping as his teeth scrape against your skin and he soothes the spot with his tongue.

“(Y/N)…” He says demandingly. “I need you. Right now.”

He takes a step back and starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, but you still his hand with your own.

“Sit back and relax Suki-kun. Let me do it.”

He bites his lip at the term of endearment, or maybe at the thought of you peeling off his clothes.

You brush your lips against the corner of his mouth, and feel him shiver. His chest rises and falls as you continue to slowly unbutton his dress shirt, grinning wolfishly as you toss it to the floor.

“(Y/N)…” there’s an impatient growl in his voice. His hands flex at his sides, and you know he’s dying to touch you, to rip your clothes off.

“Shh. Your patience will be rewarded.”

You press your palm to the center of his chest, then drag it downwards over the ridges of his abs, following the path of his well-toned abs. He rolls his hips forward as you undo the clasp of his belt, and he catches your wrist in an iron tight grip.

“I can’t wait any longer.”

The hunger in his voice makes your brain feel like it stopped for a second, and before you realize it, he’s undressing you.

“Ah. Yes. I will never get tired of how impatient you are.” You shake your head yet feel nothing but arousal from the way he looks at you as he continues.

“I can’t help myself when you’re so irresistible,” He shrugs then smirks.

You help him undress you, and soon your clothes are lying in a heap on the floor. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You both moan at the feeling of your bodies pressed together, the heat emanating from the both of you.

Your stomach swoops as he spins the two of you around, backing toward the bed. He falls down onto the mattress and pulls you down on top of him. He laughs, his voice husky at your look of surprise, bringing his hands to your waist to steady you as you lift yourself up to look down at him.

Still laughing a little, you lean down to kiss him, and it quickly grows heated as the intensity between the two of you spikes.

He’s still in his pants and you make quick work of the belt and zipper. He lifts his hips up to pull them off and throws them aside.

You press your hand against his cock over his underwear, and he bucks against you, head thrown back.

“Ah…”

You feel the heat of his desire through the fabric, but what you want is right beneath.

You close your teeth around the waistband and tug them down. He groans, lifting his hips to help you get them off. Once you cast his underwear aside, you wrap your lips around his member and suck briefly, a teasing touch that has him arching higher off the bed.

Before you could even process what had just happened, he throws a leg over you and flips the two of you over so that he’s on top and your legs are parted around his hips.

You call out his name as he roughly removes your underwear and creeps between your legs to tease his fingers against you, sending bolts of pleasure racing through all parts of your body.

“K-Katsuki…”

His mouth is hot against your neck as he speaks in a rush, hips rolling against yours.

“Make this one last the w-whole night,” you whisper in between breaths.

Lust flashes in his eyes and he growls deep, slowing the movement of his fingers against you.

You gasp as you feel him push into you, taking one of your hands and lacing his fingers with yours.

He sets a tantalizingly slow pace, making you groan loudly at the purposeful way he thrusts into you.

You grip onto his muscular shoulders, giving yourself over to the exquisite feeling as he bites back several deep groans of his own. He ducks his head to kiss your breasts, then begins to suck your nipples, sending shivers through your body as pleasure coils tighter and tighter inside you.

He stills suddenly, and you groan in a mix of pleasure and frustration, lifting your hips to search for more.

“You want this to last the whole night, huh? I’m going to give you what you want.”

You throw your head back as he starts moving again, your moans filling the room as he teases you toward that bliss, as you lose all sense of time.

_______

“(Y/N)! BAKUBRO!” You hear Kaminari knock on the door playfully. “Were you guys THAT exhausted that you did nothing but sleep yesterday!? We didn’t see you guys by the pool! Is something wrong? Are you guys sick!?”

You were cuddling with Katsuki after such an intense but amazing night, still wearing nothing, the blankets and comforters being the only ones shielding you from anything.

“W-we’re fine Kaminari-kun.” You say groggily, Bakugo’s strong arms still wrapped around you, giving you all the warmth and comfort you need. “W-we’ll be down in an h-hour.”

“Ok then! See you!” Kaminari leaves as soon as he arrives. You sigh softly and turn to your explosive boyfriend who was still sound asleep, you rest your head on his chest as you too, drift back to dreamland, excited for what else this vacation has in store for you.

-Fin.

327 notes · View notes

hotfrost · 3 years ago

Text

i hated brambleclaw’s nine lives ceremony so i fixed it at 4am please don’t kill me if this is badly written

also major spoilers for the first four arcs, and there’s some violence in here. (this is also what would have happened if brambleclaw wasn’t an asshole)

Brambleclaw shivered.

The night was clear and bright- Silverpelt shone high above the two of them. A single star twinkled brighter than the rest, its glow more warm than any other in the sky. Firestar, is that you?, Brambleclaw wondered, feeling the familiar pang of grief for his mentor. It had been only one moonrise since the former leader’s death, yet Brambleclaw missed him like he hadn’t seen him in seasons.

“Drink the water.” Jayfeather prodded him and Brambleclaw snapped back to reality. He glanced at his son for a moment. It was hard to think that once the ThunderClan medicine cat had been just a tiny kit in the nursery, mewling for his mother. Brambleclaw felt a rush of affection for the blind tom. I was wrong to abandon you, he thought, regret surging through him.

Then he obeyed and bent down to the Moonpool. The water was crystal clear and the closer Brambleclaw’s nose got to the water, the colder he felt, a harsh freezing sensation that carried from his face to his tail-tip. Still, he drank from the pool and the water rushed through him, filling his body with memories. He felt his eyes began to droop.

“You’re sleepy. Let it take over.” Jayfeather sounded different, unlike himself. Drowsily, Brambleclaw realized he hadn’t ever taken the time to speak to either of his children after Hollyleaf had died. His heart ached for the black she-cat; he missed her the most. The briefest thought of her made Brambleclaw want to wail like a newborn kit calling out for his mother.

Then he closed his eyes, and sleep crashed over him like a wave on the lake.

When Brambleclaw opened them, the first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t standing on the ground anymore. He looked down to see he was floating in midair, his feet dangling helplessly below him. Everywhere he looked, he saw stars.

“You can put your feet down, Brambleclaw.”

Brambleclaw turned, eyes widening in shock. Bluestar stood in front of him; he had not seen the ThunderClan leader in many moons before the Great Battle. She looked young and strong and happy, the opposite of how she had been when Brambleclaw had been just a kit in the nursery. She walked towards him, tail swishing happily. Starlight dotted her blue-gray pelt and her eyes shone.

“Welcome to StarClan, Brambleclaw,” she said softly, but her voice carried through the void that they stood in. As Bluestar spoke, eight other cats appeared on her sides. Brambleclaw was sure his heart must have stopped.

He recognized most of them, but before he had a chance to call out to them, Bluestar dipped her head to him. “It is an honor to be giving you your first life,” Bluestar mewed solemnly. “With this life, I give you clear sight in hopes that you may use it to lead your Clan fairly.”

She placed her nose on Brambleclaw’s head and he was thrown off balance by the force of his first life. It roared through him like a blazing fire, and he could have sworn he felt like he was drowning. This must have been what Bluestar had felt as she died, he thought.

Bluestar pulled away. Then she added, “I am sorry I was not able to do this during time with you.”

“That’s not true,” Brambleclaw said quickly. It was true, but he had too much respect for the old leader to say so.

Bluestar said nothing. She stepped back and another she-cat took her place. Her pelt was as black as night and she purred as she approached Brambleclaw. “Hollyleaf!” he breathed, his mew just barely audible.

“Brambleclaw,” she said serenely. She seemed calmer, more collected, in StarClan. More like the kit Brambleclaw remembered, before the tunnels. “It’s good to see you again.”

“I miss you,” Brambleclaw said. He wanted to speak to her, but he knew Hollyleaf only had one job tonight.

“With this life I give you justice.” Hollyleaf raised her head, and Brambleclaw thought she looked more like a leader than he would ever look. “Use it to punish those who deserve it, and look after those who look after others. Be fair in all your judgements and never be cruel,” she finished, and touched her nose to his head.

Another burning life flowed through him, although this one felt good. Brambleclaw felt himself punishing the wrongdoers and looking out for his Clan. It burned like white-hot rocks did, or as if he were looking straight into the sun. He staggered backwards, caught off guard by the force of the life.

When Hollyleaf looked at him again, he could have sworn he saw a glimmer of sadness in her eyes. Is she thinking of Ashfur?

His daughter left. “Hollyleaf, wait!” he cried, trying to go after her. But something was keeping him in that spot, rooting him in place.

“She’ll be waiting for you.” The next voice was one Brambleclaw knew well; it was the same voice that had soothed him in the nursery and defended him against the Clan. Goldenflower padded up to him, her long body shimmering with the stars.

“With this life I give you compassion,” Goldenflower whispered. “Use it not only for your own children, but for your Clan. They are all your kin now. Love them as a parent, as a brother, as a mentor. They are your family.”

Her head came to rest on Brambleclaw’s. This life was much less painful than the last two. It felt like a fire as well, but instead of a blazing hot one, this one smoldered and burned quietly inside him. Brambleclaw knew he was feeling Goldenflower’s love- for him, for Tawnypelt, for his father, and for her Clanmates. As the fire inside him died, he stumbled and stared at Goldenflower, a cat that had risked so much for him, a cat that had held so much love inside of her.

His mother walked back to her place among the starry warriors. Brambleclaw wanted to call out to her too, but he held his tongue, and gasped as the next cat walked up.

“Sorreltail?”

The tortoiseshell molly gave him a wistful stare. “I know what you’re going to say-”

“You shouldn’t be here!” Brambleclaw blurted out, fur bristling in shock. “What- why are you here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Brambleclaw.” Sorreltail purred, and her gaze turned sad. “It was my time. I’m okay with that.”

“I’m not!” Brambleclaw said indignantly. “What in the name of StarClan happened?”

“It’s not important.” Sorreltail seemed very focused on giving Brambleclaw his life. “With this life, Brambleclaw, I give you patience. As a leader, it is your job to understand your Clanmates, and to never become frustrated with them. They are your family and your responsibility.”

With that, Sorreltail put her head on top of Brambleclaw’s; he had to duck for her to do so. The life that went through him this time was calm, and soothing. This must be what patience is, Brambleclaw thought. He would do his best to watch after his Clanmates. For Sorreltail, and all the others they had lost.

The next cat to step up was one Brambleclaw admitted he had been expecting. Mousefur dipped her head to him, looking younger and livelier than he had ever remembered her in life. She was like a kit again, looking as if she were about to burst with excitement. “Mousefur,” he said warmly, coming up to the molly.

“Brambleclaw.” Even her voice was different. “Welcome.”

“It’s good to see you,” he said. “Purdy misses you, you know.”

Mousefur sighed. “I know,” she said, her mew distant. “But we will meet again, in this life or the next.”

“I’m sure he would be happy to hear that.”

Mousefur shook her head. “Never mind that, I’m here to give you your life!” Her yellow eyes glowed, and Brambleclaw recognized the cat he had known since he was a little kit. “Brambleclaw, a give you a life for listening to your elders. We may be retired, but that doesn’t erase our importance. Elders carry the stories of the Clans, and without them we would never know our own history.”

Brambleclaw took a shuddering breath as Mousefur touched noses with him, and the life that passed through him left his knees shaking. His mind flashed, and he knew he was seeing the elders. There was a fire, a raging fire, and a little brown kit. That’s me. This is Patchpelt, he thought. The elder who had died in the fire that had killed Yellowfang so long ago.

Then he saw a rabbit, and his stomach growled. In the distance, he heard the muffled sounds of his Clanmates. But he was so hungry... if he just... ate it. This is Dappletail’s memory.

Then it was Longtail, the cat who had become an elder far to soon, and here he saw nothing. The world was black and voices beat down on him from every side; they were so overwhelming that Brambleclaw wanted to curl up and mewl like a kit.

Last he saw Purdy, and Brambleclaw realized he was fighting. He was battling against a big dark tom, and with a sudden jerk he was picked up and thrown across the camp, and then-

The memory faded. Brambleclaw stared at Mousefur, dazed. The brown molly just gazed back calmly, nodded, and went back to join the ranks of her starry Clanmates. Goodbye, Mousefur, Brambleclaw thought sadly. He didn’t know when he would see her again.

If hearts could break, he was sure his did as he saw the next cat walk up. “Ferncloud.” He wanted to run to her, the cat he had known since he was a kit, one he had grown up with.

The gray molly padded up to him, her eyes bright. “Brambleclaw,” she purred. “It’s nice to see you.”

“It’s nice to see you to,” Brambleclaw breathed, wishing that he didn’t have to watch her leave. “Dustpelt misses you.”

“I miss him too.” Ferncloud dipped her head. “I miss him, and my kits. But I have a life to give you!” she purred. “The life I give you is for understanding that it is not just warriors who have a part to play in the Clan. Even though we may not add food to the fresh-kill pile, we raise each apprentice, each little kit, as our own. Honor the queens, Brambleclaw, for we are the ones who give you life.”

Brambleclaw let out a shuddering breath as Ferncloud’s life hit him. He had expected this one to be gentle as well, but he was surprised with the ferocity that it hit him with. He saw Ferncloud, battling for her life against Brokenstar, and Sorreltail, defeating Darkstripe. Then he saw his own mother, defending a young Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt from the Clan. You’ve all done so much for us, he thought.

But Ferncloud’s memories didn’t stop. He saw every kit that his friend had ever raised. Brambleclaw had thought it would only show her own kits, but no- he saw Spiderleg and Shrewpaw, and Squirrelflight and Leafpool, Whitewing, and then Hollykit and Larchkit who had died so young, and then Birchfall, the only surviving kit from her second litter. He saw his own kits, Jayfeather, Lionblaze, and Hollyleaf along with Foxleap and Icecloud and Cinderheart and Honeyfern and Poppyfrost and Molepaw. He saw Blossomfall and Bumblestripe and Briarlight, and Cherrypaw and Molepaw and Amberkit, Snowkit, and Dewkit and Lilykit and Seedkit, and Brambleclaw thought he might collapse if he had to see any more.

But there was more. He felt Ferncloud’s fierce loyalty to the nursery, he felt how bravely she had defended the nursery. Brambleclaw felt her pain as she saw Hollyleaf’s unmoving body lying in the camp, her pain as the Clan had found Ashfur, her pain as they had buried Brindleface. She’s been through so much.

The memory cut to black and Brambleclaw jumped back in shock. That’s where she died, he thought.

Ferncloud said nothing, but her eyes glimmered like stars. Brambleclaw didn’t even know what to say. What could he say?

As Ferncloud padded back to her new Clanmates, another cat came up. “Feathertail.” His long-departed friend approached, starlight dappling her beautiful gray pelt. “It’s been a long time.”

“Indeed it has, my friend,” Feathertail agreed. “With this life I give you courage. Use it to guard not only your own Clan, but also all the cats who need it.” As she touched noses with him, Brambleclaw knew Feathertail was thinking about how she had given her own life for the Tribe of Rushing Water. You were the bravest of us all, he thought.

This life was a roaring, raging storm that ripped through him like claws and Brambleclaw stumbled. He knew what courage was- yes, he saw it in his Clanmates and in his leader, and in Squirrelflight and Hollyleaf. He knew it well.

As Feathertail began to walk away, he cleared his throat. “Where will you go now?” Brambleclaw’s voice faltered. He didn’t want her to leave yet.

“I walk two skies now, my friend,” Feathertail replied, turning her head. “We will see each other again.”

Brambleclaw found that a vague and rather frustrating answer, but he nodded silently and stepped back, waiting for his next life. There were only two more to go, if he was counting right. He couldn’t help but wonder who would give his last lives to him.

He couldn’t have been more surprised by who came up. The small black and white cat looked up at him, and Brambleclaw was surprised. He had never been this small in life. He always remembered looking up at the apprentice. “Swiftpaw,” he whispered, taking in the sight of his brother who had died so long ago.

“Brambleclaw,” he purred. “Clan leader. Who would have thought?” His voice was young and high, but Swiftpaw sounded so much wiser.

“I certainly wouldn’t have.” He kneaded at the starry ground, still feeling awkward. It was as if there was no floor; it was unnatural. “I wish you’d been here.”

Swiftpaw said nothing, but moved forward to touch noses with him. “With this life I give you mentoring,” he said. “Raise each apprentice to be the best warriors they can be.” Then he paused. “I gave this life to another leader, a long time ago.”

Brambleclaw gasped. Firestar? he thought, and looked around for the leader.

But he had forgotten about the life Swiftpaw was about to give him in his shock, and he was pushed back by the force of it.

His vision blurred and suddenly Brambleclaw was standing in his brother’s paws, snarling at a huge, vicious dog. Through the corner of his eye he saw Brightheart, a much younger Brightheart, standing next to him.

There was a growl and a clamp of jaws and it was over.

Brambleclaw stumbled, reeling from the force of the life. “Brother...” he panted, at a loss for words. Swiftpaw’s death had been so terrible, so brutal. But the apprentice didn’t respond.

“One more life to go,” was all he said before joining StarClan once more. Brambleclaw didn’t even get a reply.

Only one to go! And Brambleclaw was sure he knew it would be.

He had expected it, of course, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t surprised when a familiar flame-colored tom weaved his way through the warriors of StarClan. He was much bigger and stronger than he had been in the moons leading up to his death. The ginger tom looked like Brambleclaw remembered him as an apprentice.

“My apprentice,” said Firestar warmly. “My deputy.”

“Firestar.” Brambleclaw’s voice was thick with emotion. He had missed his mentor more than he could say. He saw Jayfeather raise his head at the edge of the starry clearing, staring straight at them. “Are you here to give me my last life.”

“Yes, I am,” Firestar said, his forest-green eyes glistening. “My life is a life for nobility.”

Nobility. Brambleclaw exhaled softly, watching Firestar continue.

“Long ago, I had an apprentice,” Brambleclaw’s former leader began. He had no idea who Firestar was talking about. “She was a bright, energetic cat, and I trusted her with my life, even after she was no longer my apprentice.”

He’s talking about Cinderpelt. Brambleclaw leaned forward, intrigued. A storm of emotions raged inside him, making him shake at the feet.

“Afterwards, I mentored my own kin. And despite his shortcomings as an apprentice, he is one of the finest warriors I’ve ever had the honor of knowing.” Firestar was talking about his nephew, Cloudtail. Brambleclaw frowned. What was the point of his speech?

“As I mentored Cloudtail, I met a young cat who looked far too much like someone I knew.” Brambleclaw held his breath. He’s talking about me.

Firestar’s eyes rose to meet his, expression stony. “And I held that against him. Yes... I did. I held that against him for a long time, until he was faced with a choice. A choice to join his father, who looked so much like him, or to stay and fight for his Clan. And he chose the second one.”

“I should have seen it then.” Firestar’s mew was hollow. “But I didn’t, not fully. It wasn’t until I had gone on my quest, named him after his father. I didn’t realize until he brought us to our new home. And I realized that what a good leader he was.” Firestar paused. “And I couldn’t blame him for hesitating to kill me on the lake that sunset. I would have killed a cat who had never trusted me.”

Brambleclaw was shaking. How could he tell Firestar that he blamed himself for that day, for that life Hawkfrost’s fox trap had taken from him? How his hesitation was the reason Firestar wasn’t with them anymore.

“What are you saying?” Brambleclaw asked thickly.

“I’m sorry, Brambleclaw. I’m so, so sorry.”

Brambleclaw couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re sorry? For what?”

“For never trusting you. For being so foolish. You’re one of the noblest cats I’ve ever known.” Firestar’s voice was shaking.

“No.” It was so sudden that Brambleclaw hadn’t even known he had said it. “I’m not. I’m really not.”

“What?” Firestar didn’t seem angry, just confused.

“I’m not noble,” Brambleclaw hung his head. “I spent most of the past few seasons avoiding my responsibilities, as a father, as a deputy, as a mate. And I’m sorry.”

Firestar didn’t say anything, just listened.

“You’re the noblest warrior I’ve ever known, Firestar,” Brambleclaw murmured. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t be half the cat you were.”

Firestar still said nothing, just touched his nose to his former apprentice’s.

The life that rushed through him was Firestar’s. It was all his.

First Brambleclaw was a little kit, sitting on the fence of a Twoleg nest. He was looking out at the forest, his paws itching to jump into the trees. Then he was fighting a younger Longtail, one that could see and he beat him. And there was Bluestar, and with a shudder Brambleclaw recognized his own father. As he followed Firestar’s life, he saw Silverstream, Feathertail’s mother, dying. And Cinderpelt in the medicine den with Yellowfang, who he had only known for a few moons. And then Cloudtail, and Sandstorm and Firestar rushing to rescue him.

And with a startle, Brambleclaw saw himself, a tiny, mewling kit hanging from a tree, with flames rising up around them. He jumped out to grab Bramblekit and carried him out of the camp. The scene changed, and Brambleclaw was watching his own apprentice ceremony, and Sandstorm’s anger. Then there was Stonefur’s terrible death, and now Tawnypaw had gone to ShadowClan with Tigerstar.

Brambleclaw watched as Scourge ripped every single life from Tigerstar, and felt Firestar’s shock. He watched in horror as Bone crushed Whitestorm, the most loyal of Firestar’s warriors, and saw Graystripe’s appointment to deputy. Then there was a long pause, and Firestar was leader of the Clan, finding out that Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw had disappeared. He watched as ThunderClan had fallen apart- Brambleclaw saw Dappletail die, and then Hollykit and Larchkit and Shrewpaw. He felt Firestar’s agony as Graystripe was captured, his sadness as the Clans left the forest and Ravenpaw, Firestar’s other closest friend.

But there was also happiness. Brambleclaw was still in Firestar’s body, giving Squirrelpaw her warrior name and making Birchpaw an apprentice.

But the sadness came again, as Cinderpelt died and Graystripe was declared dead and he was bleeding out on the beach... bleeding, bleeding... and Brambleclaw saw a dark brown shape standing over him. Two of them. Panic rose up in him as the throbbing in his throat worsened. I’m going to die here, he thought.

But he didn’t die.

Brambleclaw, still in Firestar’s paws, watched three little kits stumble into camp, golden, gray, and black. He felt Firestar’s pride as he watched his kin, but also his hesitation. There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws. Then his body broke out into a coughing fit. This is the greencough. And then Sol appeared, his menacing eyes staring right into Brambleclaw.

And there was a long time of peace and happiness after that, until a shadow fell over the lake and Brambleclaw turned fearfully to see Tigerstar standing behind him.

There was a flash of lightning and Brambleclaw was released from the memory.

And it had pretty much confirmed it for him, that Firestar was the noblest cat he had ever known.

But Firestar seemed to make no comment about what Brambleclaw had said before. The flame-pelted tom stood up tall. “I hail you by your new name, Bramblestar. Your old life is no more. You have now received the nine lives of a leader, and StarClan grants you the guardianship of ThunderClan. Defend it well; care for young and old; honor your ancestors and the traditions of the warrior code; live each life with pride and dignity.”

Bramblestar! The rest of the cats broke into cheers of his new name. Bramblestar turned to his leader.

“Go well, Bramblestar,” Firestar murmured. “I will be with you, always.”

#brambleclaw #bramblestar #firestar #jayfeather #hollyleaf #goldenflower #tigerstar #feathertail #ferncloud #sorreltail #mousefur #bluestar #somewhat of a fix-it #fic**#warriors #warrior cats #i wrote this in ten minutes forgive me

85 notes · View notes

stubbedbakutoes · 4 years ago

Text

Promise Ring

Bakugou accidentally slips up amidst an argument with (y/n). The question now is, does he feel guilty? at all?

pairing: asshole!bakugou x fem reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst (i advise grabbing some tissues before proceeding with caution mwahaha)

part 2

masterlist

Whilst his hands held up the ring in the glistening light of the gradually rising sun, her movements halted, thankful she was mere seconds away from having the hot liquid in her mouth because she would more than likely be spluttering and coughing at the shock of what he had just said. Bakugou darted his eyes away from hers, because he’s embarrassed.

But then he’s just looking back at her again. Because he couldn’t not look at her. He licked his suddenly dry as hell lips, shrugging a shoulder.

“Fell for you hard and I don’t want this to just be some fling that we’ll get over in a few weeks.” The blush was rising on his cheeks and she found this self-conscious side of him adorable.

“Kacchan!” She kicked his shin under the table. “You’re asking me to marry you?” She asked slowly.

“No!” He scoffed playfully, which soon turned into a laugh when she squealed out something along the lines of ‘Don’t look so disgusted! how was I supposed to react to that, huh?’ “I mean, you’ve had my dick in your mouth, I'd say we’re pretty committed at this poi-.”

“But you’re really not proposing?” She cut him off, not wanting to hear anything from his vulgar mouth anymore.

“Shut up.” He chuckled, mindlessly playing footsie with her under the table. “I’m serious about it though.”

“Marrying me?”

Bakugou sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as a smile played on his lips, “About how we’re past the honeymoon stage.”

“What’s that?” Lifting her mug of tea for the second time, she finally took her first sip of what was always a good cup of morning coffee when made by someone else, specifically Bakugou.

“You know... That period at the beginning of the relationship when everything goes well and is free of problems.”

“Aside from arguing whether the toilet seat cover should stay up or not?”

Bakugou smiled fondly at her. “Sure.”

Their grins were far too wide and cheesy for this early in the morning but the feeling of giddiness they felt inside was too much to conceal and, without any further word on the subject, the rest of breakfast was served so the two could quiet down their grumbling stomach like a proper non-fling-type couple.

(y/n)’s trying the ring on her fingers, and when it only fits on her fourth finger (like he’d hoped), Y/N’s looking back at him. “I care about you too.” She smiled reassuringly. “And to prove it,” She began, stabbing a portion of Bakugou’s food with a fork. “I’ll have this piece of your pancake, thank you very much.”

“Where’s the correlation?”

“I just wanted to steal some food from you, sorry.”

“You’re not very good at being sly, aren’t you?” Bakugou giggled, playing with the matching ring on his pinky finger. “ I just. I love you, you know? And, like. I know we’re still young, so it’s obviously not an engagement ring. I like to consider it a promise. Something to keep your finger warm till I get you a proper ring.”

“—so now what? You just wait for me to leave so you can— what? Cheat on me?!” Bakugou slammed his open palm down on the wooden table, eyes alit with a fury so strong that even (y/n)'s terrified because she's never, ever, seen him this angry before. She's had fights with him before, of course she has, they've been together for over three years, but she's never seen him this determined to win an argument– to the extent that if they were in a cartoon show, he'd probably have smoke puffing out of either side of his ears.

But this is no time for her imagination to be running wild because she's pissed, too. So much anger flooded her veins that tears accumulating in the corner of her eyes are almost spilling out — that's the worst kind of anger.

(y/n) gaped at him. “Are you fucking serious right now? I had one single conversation with that guy and and you— you think I’m cheating on you?!”

And what's filling her with rage is that what they're fighting over is stupid, good Lord, it's so fucking stupid.

It started with (y/n) telling Bakugou about how she's finally found a dream, something to chase, because she's spent most of her life without having decided what to do for herself or wanting anything in her life. That dream involved her going to a school, outside the country, and that turned into a tiny misunderstanding, which blossomed into something else, followed something else after that, and then both Bakugou and Y/N were yelling at each other and calling each other names and it was all a horrible sight to see. Both of them have no idea what brought it on to this extent. All they're certain of is that they're pissed at each other and have, apparently, been pissed at each other for a long ass time.

Bakugou grinned. A grin that she loathed, because Bakugou’s grins are usually with mischief, with playfulness. Not this malice. He outstretched his arm on either sides of him, like he’s showing something off. “Well, I don’t see anyone proving me otherwise.”

She huffed, glaring right back at him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“What’s my problem?! What the hell is your problem?!” Bakugou yelled back at her, not even bothering to try to keep from shouting. He pointed out the door, “You were fucking flirting with that two-faced asshole right in front of me! You're the problem!”

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?! That was months ago, you've had that stupid excuse of a grudge on me ever since, huh?!" (y/n)'s eyes narrowed and crinkled – not in a way that Bakugou's used to seeing. "I haven't done anything wrong! All I've done is fucking been there for your stupid ambition to be the number one hero-

"Stupid? Stupid?!" Bakugou repeated incredulously, eyes widening as he quivered with anger. "I'd watch my words if I were you. This is my fucking life goal and something I want for myself that you're calling stupid."

(y/n) was nearly suffocating on her fury, her laugh void of any happiness leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "I am aware of what I'm spewing out. Your fucking dream was delusional and far fetched but I supported it, didn't I?! I watched every single match, patched up your hands when they bled from all that training, made you delicious bentos to fuel you up for the day – "

"– And now you say it was all stupid," Bakugou laughed mirthlessly, glaring at her so hard that (y/n)'s knees start to tremble. "How romantic can this get?" He raised his voice, arms stretching out before clapping obnoxiously loud, "I hope shitting on your boyfriend's dream has given you some sort of satisfaction."

"And you've got some nerve to pull all of this shit with me about suddenly wanting something for myself because I've met someone else and that I'm cheating on you," (y/n)'s lips tremble, her voice practically shaking with anger as she spoke, a finger going to point accusingly at him, "You're not my boyfriend. You're just one big hypocrite!"

"You fucking are, though!" His voice was laced with venom as he practically spat the words in the woman's face. "You're definitely planning to elope with some hunk city boy! I'm not fucking good enough for you, huh?!"

And that’s— that’s the final straw.

Relationships are about trust, and Bakugou obviously didn't fucking trust her. If he wasn't so much of a prick in how he reacted to her telling him her future plans then they'd probably be cuddled against each other, asleep, and Bakugou would be the first to start apartment hunting for her — for them, because he'd even move with her, since he knows he couldn't properly function without her.

But before she even opened her mouth to inform him that she's done with this toxic relationship, he beat her to it, “Good thing I never fell in love with you, then.”

(y/n)’s face changed from cocky to puzzled then to heartbroken. As his words made her world crumble, Bakugou took pride in the sight of the bewildered woman before him, not planning to take his words back anytime soon since he saw this argument as a game of who can devastate the other first. And the prize was looking back on this fight one day and thinking, wow, I won that. It didn't matter what had been said and done in his book.

But (y/n) and Bakugou are two sides of the same coin; she simply wanted to have her point reach his end, so that they can both agree to put this aside and go back to their normal, non-fling-type couple selves.

“So all of this,” She motioned between them, interrupting his train of thought “meant nothing to you? You never even loved me?” She asked with what seemed to be a mixture of hurt and sadness but mainly anger. Before he could even blink, she was over hitting him on the chest with her tightly clenched fists, trying to let out her pain, “I hate you, you're the worst! You told me numerous times you loved me- that you’d never even make me feel like shit! What’s changed, Bakugou? Why can’t you love me anymore?” Her voice cracked, nonetheless she was smoldered with rage.

"Are you deaf? I said I never did. I was lying the whole time, whenever I told you that— that I did."

Bakugou took every hit she was giving him because he stood firmly on his feet, unnecessarily adding fuel to the fire, as if (y/n)'s miserable state wasn't enough to satisfy him — to drop his guard and tell her he wanted to take it back. That he wanted to say I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry, I love you, I didn’t mean to say that— but then (y/n)’s letting out a laugh that sounds so bitter, it made Bakugou flinch.

“Fine,” she breathed out, then she’s scoffing out another harsh laugh. “Then— we’re done. Wouldn’t want you to waste your time and effort in a relationship that you never thought was worth it. I don’t want to waste my time and energy being with someone who clearly doesn’t feel the same kind of love towards me.”

And she turned on her heel, ready to head straight out the door, purposefully ignoring the faint, “Wait, (y/n)—” from behind. Her opposite hand subconsciously grazed the promise ring she shared with Bakugou, and she realises something.

At one swift movement, she pulled at the said ring and threw it at him with more force than necessary.

“What a fucking nonsense 'promise' that was,” She said out loud, and it rang through Bakugou’s ears, because he made a pathetic whining sound that's never been heard before, because this moment couldn't have a bigger emotional toll on him than anything else.

"Y/N, hear me out," he sniffled. "I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean an ounce of what I said. I know you're not cheating on me, baby, I'm sure of that. I was being a dickhead for that and I'm so fucking sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I love you, Y/N. God. I need you so much, and I was lying when I said I never did. When you're not with me, I'm not... me. And I just," he sighed, pulling the ends of his hair aggressively. "I'm sorry, I really am."

Y/N’s got a hand on the door handle, but there were fingers slowly wrapping around her other wrist. She yanked her wrist out of his hold like his touch burned, causing Bakugou's lips to shake. It's hitting him now, the fact that he's losing the girl he courted and spent so much time with. The girl who kept him wide awake at night because of how much she clouded his mind. Not to mention, the ring which symbolizes their commitment to each other, is being thrown away like it's nothing.

(y/n) peeked at him through her eyelashes, "Give me a break. I obviously don't have a place in your heart, you've made that painfully clear to me. So do me a favor and fuck off."

He very nearly heaved with his next breath. He held a hand up, ring between his pointer finger and thumb. “I meant it when I said I wanted to get serious with this relationship. I still do, and that'll never change. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, that you should be with someone— someone better in every fucking way possible, I want to be the one to marry you. That wasn’t a false promise. That was— that is the promise that I swear to God I’ll be keeping until my last breath.”

2K notes · View notes

fanfictionwritingoddity · 4 years ago

Text

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙤𝙮’𝙨 𝙆𝙧𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚: 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7𝙠 𝐭𝐰: 𝙮𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚, 𝙟𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙮, 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮, 𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙩��𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚, 𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣, 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙣𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠: 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙜 - 𝙝𝙪𝙙𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙤𝙧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

( 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎!𝙾𝚒𝚔𝚊𝚠𝚊 𝚃𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 )

You nervously tapped your pencil eraser against the top of your desk, ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. Matsukawa was never late. Not without texting you, that is. In all of your two years of friendship, he had always made sure to message you and make you aware when he wouldn’t be in or on time. He knew you had anxiety, and thus made sure to do all he could to keep you comfortable.

It was hard to resist the urge to glance at your phone screen, but somehow you managed. You knew that if Issei texted you, the screen would light up and a small ping would resound from your device. The ringing of the next class bell startled you, so much so that you actually dropped your phone. Your heart pounded in your chest as you attempted to simultaneously calm down and pick up the electronic.

Before you could reach it, a pale hand shot out, gently lifting it from the floor and setting it onto the desk. You blinked in surprise, trying to figure out who had helped you without seeming like some creep. When you heard the slight laughter, you jumped, quickly straightening your posture.

Oikawa was standing in front of you, his umber eyes flitting around the room in confusion. You wondered why he had arrived at your classroom, before remembering the bell. Ah, that’s right, it’s lunch time. He must have come here to see Matsukawa so they could walk together to lunch. Expression twisting into one of anxiety, you looked at the phone now sitting on your desk, realizing the screen was slightly cracked. There were still no notifications.

“Y/N, do you have any idea where Matsukawa is?”

You weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to hold it together, and opted to turn and pretend to search through your bag after shaking your head in denial. Tooru frowned, scratching the back of his neck a few times.

“Do you?”

There was a slight crack in your voice, your throat constricting uncomfortably when you spoke.

“I might,” he muttered, looking off to the side in thought. You leapt up at this, grabbing the captain’s free hand and clasping it tightly.

“Is he alright? Did something happen?”

Oikawa’s heart sped up due to the proximity and the way your smaller hands squeezed around his. God, you were wonderful. But he couldn’t break the act just yet. Feigning deep thought, he took a few moments to answer, narrowing his eyes as the seconds passed.

“Well, last night he told me some things… I tried to check up on him but he wouldn’t answer any texts.”

One glance at your forlorn and let down expression was enough to make the setter aware of his victory.

“There’s a lot to explain, but I think I might know where he is. I’m going to be busy all day, so if you’d like, maybe wait for me and after practice I’ll walk you home and explain. Is that alright?”

Your nodding was so eager that Tooru couldn’t help the smile breaking onto his lips. It quickly fell when the reality of the situation weighed in on his mind; you were acting so eager to hear about a bastard who didn’t even deserve the time of day. Well, who hadn’t deserved the time of day. Luckily he wouldn’t be bothering you anymore. Your love made sure of it, of course.

The wait was tortuous. The entire day seemed to last for months, hours turning into days and minutes into hours. You had asked around, wondering if Issei had spoken to anyone besides Oikawa last night. The verdict was negative, even the Seijoh volleyball team didn’t know what was going on. It wasn’t like him to miss practice, much less without a warning or explanation.

The pit in your stomach eagerly grew with each passing class. By the time school was over and you were left to wait for practice to end, it weighed heavier than any burden you had ever shouldered alone. There had never been a reason for you to make friends besides Issei and Kaori, but Kaori was busy with club activities so you were unable to vent to her. When you explained the situation she had completely understood, shooing you away with promises to make an excuse for you.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t focus on your homework. A voice in the back of your mind was screaming that something was so terribly wrong. Had he gotten hurt? Did the girl he walked with do something to him? Or did he just end up staying over at her house? You never did get her name, so for all you know she could also be absent. It wouldn’t be out of character for Matsukawa to skip a day to help someone he cared about.

On days when you had been sick and your parents had been too busy to take care of you, Issei had pretended to be under the weather so he could sneak over to your house and help nurse you back to health. But even then, he would explain the situation to his teammates, and they would all cover for him. So, if that was the case now, why hadn’t he said anything? Why did he only tell Oikawa?

It just didn’t seem to add up. Matsukawa was closer to a few other guys on the team than he was to Tooru, so why was he the only one who knew what was going on?

Shaking your head, you patted your cheeks a few times to calm yourself down. You couldn’t let your overthinking get the best of you. Oikawa would never lie to you like that. He was a playboy, sure, and liked to flirt with literally everyone, but that didn’t make him someone who would hurt your best friend. Here you were again, letting your thoughts get away from you and become overpowered by anxiety.

While you were stuck in your own mind, struggling with your intuition and logic, volleyball practice had promptly wrapped up. When the sound of shouted calls and balls hitting the court ceased, you looked up from the question you had been staring at and noticed that most of the guys had made their way to the locker room to grab their bags. You stood up, eagerly stuffing the papers you hadn’t made any progress on into your bag as you almost tripped over your feet running down the staircase from the stands.

Oikawa was waiting for you at the bottom, one hand on his hip and the other slinging his volleyball bag over his shoulder. He watched you almost stumble down the steps, letting out a soft chuckle whilst you scampered over to him. Soft puffs of breath left your mouth and adrenaline coursed through your veins. You were finally going to find out what happened to Issei!

“Follow me, cutie.”

The rest of the team had already left, and since you were the last out it was your job to turn the lights off. The gym slowly dimmed, row after row of lights shutting off. Tooru started with the bright LED fixtures closest to you, flicking the light switches one by one. Eventually, he stopped, leaving one light on. This action confused you, so you drew your eyes away from the ceiling to his face, bewilderment written all over your countenance.

Tooru was tempted to turn every light off. Would you cling to him in fear? Would you scream? Or would you find comfort in the pitch black, while he broke the news about your ‘friend’.

No, as much as he wanted to, Oikawa knew it would be much more enjoyable and satisfying to see your face. He wanted to watch your expression crumble while pretty tears of disbelief gathered in the corners of those beautiful eyes. The setter wanted to see how you shook and trembled.

He wanted to see every single side of you.

“Y/N, Matsukawa… he’s…”

God, he hated the way you perked up when he uttered that stupid name.

“He’s dead.”

Your features immediately fell, eyelids fluttering open and shut as you tried to comprehend the words that just left Tooru’s mouth. Your mind raced at the speed of light, questions tumbling out of your mouth with a broken and unsettled tone.

“What do you mean? How do you- how do you even know? Is this some prank? Where the hell is Isse-”

Just as his name was about to leave your mouth, Oikawa covered your lips with his palm. There was a smoldering hatred in his eyes, one of pure malice and discontent. The look alone sent shivers down your spine, leaving your knees trembling as tears began to blur your vision. What was happening? Why was he doing this? You tried to make space between you, but eventually ran out of room as your back hit the hard wall.

“I know because I killed him myself. And you know I’m not one to half-ass something like that, right princess?”

The word betrayal was an understatement to the immense pain you felt. The tears that had been gathering in your glossy eyes spilled over, slipping down your cheeks and onto Tooru’s hand. You looked so adorable like this, he thought, your protests muffled as you weakly tried to shove him away.

“It’s not my fault, you’re the one who liked him in the first place. If you didn’t fall in love with him, he would still be alive now.”

This was… your fault?

“You know, I’ve liked you for two years. Every time I saw your adorable face in the stands at our games, I pushed myself past my limits in the hopes that it was me you came to see. I never imagined in my wildest dreams that you would show up in my little fanclub.”

The tremors shaking your body were so violent you were having trouble breathing. You were starting to hyperventilate. Desperately clawing at the hand covering your mouth, you tried your best to steady your hand enough to dig your nails in, but the attempt was to no avail.

“Imagine my pain when you told me you liked someone else. Let alone, someone so unworthy of your attention. That hurt like hell, doll.”

His tone was nothing but a growl as he pressed harder against your mouth, stifling your breath. The world around you began to fade to black, noir clouds creeping across your vision as your grip on his arms lessened. Eventually, you passed out, collapsing forward into Oikawa’s waiting arms.

“Hm, I guess you really are my kryptonite. Good thing I have you all to myself now, right?”

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 : @kray-dragon , @lagoonsmainacc , @steampunkhell

132 notes · View notes

nocturnal-milk-dud · 4 years ago

Text

Man Made of Stone: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Summary: “Carrillo was resigned to see you go, felt obliged to keep you safe, was unwilling to go any further than that.”

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/notes: smoking; language; alcohol consumption; Horacio’s arms are where home is, baby (did i make it make sense?); ummmm I think this is it folks. This is a really weird feeling and it’s making it really hard to hit the post button. Thank you all for going on this journey with me 💞

Word count: ~1500

You startled awake, head snapping up from Javier’s desk. Your breathing was ragged and cool sweat pooled at your temples. A piece of paper was stuck to your cheek and you peeled it away with a grimace. You didn’t even remember falling asleep, exhaustion apparently taking over. Murphy eyed you warily from his desk, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers.

“You okay?” he asked and you nodded, relaxing back into the chair with a deep breath.

“Yeah, nightmare.” When the three of you had arrived at the embassy with your police escort, Javier had been whisked away for medical care and you had been left alone in the office while Murphy had an emergency meeting to discuss next steps. He and Javier would have to relocate, hide out until things cooled down. What did that mean for you? You nearly jumped out of your skin when the phone on Murphy’s desk rang.

“Yeah, we’re all good here,” Murphy said. “They’re taking care of Javi and we’ll need to lay low for a while, but we made it out. Tell me you got every one of those fuckers.” When he said that you looked up, realizing who he must have been talking to. There was a long moment of silence during which Murphy’s eyes locked briefly onto yours and he pushed back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. “Yeah, she’s here.” More silence. You held your breath.

“They’ll be moving me out in the morning,” Murphy said, leaning forward in his chair to reach his ashtray. “She can stay with me as long as--” his eyebrows lifted and he stopped speaking, Carrillo having cut him off. “That works too.” You watched as Murphy hung up the phone. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle, filling two glasses and placing one at the edge of his desk for you.

“Looks like you’re going to Medellín,” he said.

You couldn’t stop fidgeting after the phone call. You had tried pressing Murphy for more information, but he had nothing to give, simply saying that Carrillo would be picking you up in a few hours. He wanted to keep you safe, and the only way to do that was to keep you with him--that had to be what he was thinking. But what if he was still upset with you? As far as Carrillo knew you were still intent upon leaving, and after what happened that day…weren’t you? Shouldn’t you? No one would blame you.

You slouched against Javier’s desk, your back to Murphy, a cigarette burning between your fingers, a long coil of ash at its tip. The nightmare played over in your head and your stomach pitched and roiled.

“Would you think less of me?” You repeated the words to yourself in a soft whisper. You remembered Charlie’s face the first time he told you he’d been threatened and you asked him if he was afraid.

“I would have thought less of you if you tried to tell me you weren’t afraid,” you mumbled to yourself. You felt that same terror now, running your hand over the skin under your chin and down the front of your neck. It was like an elephant sitting on your chest, crushing your heart and your lungs, making you gasp and claw in panic. It could happen again. It could happen to him.

“Time to go,” Murphy said.

Your heart was in your throat as you walked through the dark parking lot of the embassy. It felt like it was right behind the thinnest layer of skin, like its strings could only take one last tug before it burst from you, and that final tug came when you saw Carrillo step out of the police truck. Murphy and embassy security stood beside you as you waited for the gate to open, eyes glued to Carrillo where he stood on the other side, hands on his hips, speaking quietly to Trujillo.

“I’ve arranged for you to stay at CNP headquarters until things quiet down,” Carrillo said to you as the gate slid open. “When it’s safe my men will escort you to the airport and wait for you to board your flight.” His words could have rooted you to the spot and they almost did. Carrillo was resigned to see you go, felt obliged to keep you safe, was unwilling to go any further than that. But his tone was soft like it had been when the two of you were alone in Javier’s apartment, and that was what you focused on. You stepped forward and slid your arms through his, pressing your body firmly against his. You could feel Carrillo tense, his arms slow to wrap around you, but when they did his hands splayed wide across your back, pulling you as close as he could in his tight, blanketing embrace. Your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, felt his heat beneath, his heart beating with yours--you grounded yourself in his realness.

“Colonel,” Trujillo said, his voice soft but insistent, “no estamos seguros aquí.” Carrillo pulled away, but his hands didn’t leave you. He nodded and helped you into the truck where the two of you sat side by side, and as it started to move he turned your hand over on his knee, running his thumb gently over the scraped, reddened skin of your palm. You took his hand in both of yours and rested your head on his shoulder.

“It’s not much but you’ll be safe here,” Carrillo said, standing in the doorway of a room with metal bunk beds and rolled up mattresses. It was the first time he’d spoken to you since you’d left Bogotá, having maintained his silence in the helicopter as well. He had a blanket and pillow in his arms. “Safer than you were with Peña, anyway.”

“Javi didn’t do anything wrong,” you said, following him into the room.

“If he had just picked up the phone this all could have been avoided.” There was something in Carrillo’s voice, a hard edge that hadn’t been there before. You watched as he set up the bottom bunk, rolling out the mattress and tossing down the bedding.

“You can’t blame Javi for that. We were fighting.” Carrillo stopped what he was doing and straightened up, looking at you.

“Fighting?”

“I told him I was staying, he didn’t like that, we argued. I remember the phone ringing but we were right in the middle of it.” Carrillo sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You stepped towards him, thinking that perhaps the last wall had fallen, but what he said next floored you:

“You should go.”

“What?” Carrillo was quiet for so long that the silence prompted you to say his name. It was a soft plea for him to see you, touch you, speak to you--all those things he was struggling with in that moment.

“Are you trying to tell me you weren’t terrified today?” he asked. “Because if you had any doubts about leaving, that gun to your head should have put them to rest.”

“Of course I was terrified,” you said, “but I don’t get this, first you’re upset with me for leaving, now you’re telling me to go. Is there a third option I’m missing where everybody’s happy?” The emotions of the day piled behind your words and you couldn’t stop yourself, your voice rising. “You know, I think you misspoke the other day when you said you don’t have time for games: you meant to say you only have time for your own.”

“I’ve been selfish!” Carrillo snapped, getting to his feet. You stopped breathing then, your eyes wide. It was the first time he’d ever raised his voice around you, to you. It wasn’t in anger, no, it was in fear, and that surprised you even more. Carrillo’s eyebrows were turned up in the middle, his lips pinched tight. He turned his back to you, gripping a metal upright in one hand while the other rested on his hip, working to gather his composure. His voice was level when he spoke again: “I’m a danger to you. And if I had been a second too late...it wasn’t fair of me to pressure you. You have a way out, you should take it.” The silence in the room was heavy and you were exhausted. Exhausted from thinking, from feeling, from arguing. It was time to just be alive together.

“But I don’t,” you said finally, “not until things quiet down, right?” You walked over to Carrillo and spread your palms out over his back, feeling him relax beneath your touch. Slowly, you brought them around his sides, up over the curve of his stomach, coming to rest over his heart. Carrillo’s hands joined yours as you pressed your forehead into his back.

“You saved my life,” you whispered. “Take me home, Horacio.”

Taglist: @cheesybadgers @massivecolorspygiant @vanthrefrigeration @funtasi @redwine-n-hiddles @sarahjkl82-blog @maharani-radha-writes @lettherebrelight @banga-sama @ajeff855 @madlyhowling @chiara-cannot-sleep @mcrmarvelloki @cassandras-nest @flowerchild-96 @harduy @chasingdreamer @anatanotegami @live–aloud @grogu-pascal @dodgerandevans @seltsamkind @goldielocks2004 @marvelprincess1994 @girlpornparadise @mental-bycatch @patqmark @winchesterfallon @kesskirata @horaciocarrillohasmyheart @brieflyhopefulluminary @heresathreebee

#man made of stone #horacio carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo x reader #narcos fic #colonel carrillo #horacio carrillo #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #trujillo #jorge monterrosa #javier peña #pedro pascal #maurice compte

104 notes · View notes

silverarmedassassin · 3 years ago

Text

Clandestine Meetings - One

Actor!Bucky x Reader | Word Count: 2488 | Warnings: None

A/N: Listen, I know I said this would be posted in "about an hour," but I have no self-control and it must be posted NOW.

Sorry for the delay in getting this out! I was having a bit of block. Thank you for reading and, if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think!❤️ If you want to be tagged, please send me a message or enter your url here!

Dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics

[ Previous | Masterlist | Next ]

It’s 10:30 by the time your boss stumbles into the office. Pepper Potts is usually the embodiment of poised and put together - sleek strawberry blonde hair either falling over her shoulders in beautiful waves or tied in a high ponytail; black pencil skirts and white blouses tucked neatly inside. But not today.

While the ponytail still sits high on her head, dark circles taint her usually smooth, pristine complexion. She’s fisting a to-go mug in one hand and her office mug in the other, already steaming with a fresh round of caffeine.

You hated days like these; mornings after Tony keeps her out late - either business or pleasure, you never know as you prefer not to pry into your bosses’ personal lives - were always interesting, to say the least. Pepper was never mean, and you were almost positive there wasn’t an unkind bone in her body. She was just off. And if she was off, it means you were off, resulting in your job being about one hundred times harder as you often had to play the roles of both assistant and editor.

“Good morning, Ms. Potts,” you finally greet as she sits down at her desk. She’s rummaging through her bag, growing more irritable as the seconds pass. She sighs before stopping to look up at you.

“Y/N, please. It’s been six months. Just call me Pepper.” You internally scoff at the insistence of being anything less than professional towards one of the smartest women you’ve ever encountered in your life, and she turns back to her treasure hunt. “Don’t tell me I left my laptop at home,” she whines to herself as she slumps down into her large executive chair.

You clear your throat as you shuffle forward, computer in hand. “You had me take down to IT to get your files backed up, remember?” you smile as you deposit the device on the cherry-oak desk.

Pepper returns the smile and shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t understand how I functioned before you.” She slides the laptop across the desk and opens it. While she waits for the software to boot up, she starts her typical morning rapid-fire session. “Did I miss any calls before I came in?”

“No, it’s been pretty q-word this morning.” You vowed never to say “quiet” while in the office. It somehow always jinxed your days, resulting in everyone and their mother calling within twenty minutes.

“E-mails?”

“The chef you’ve been in contact with sent over his schedule for the next few months. It’s looking like the best time to meet is early next month if you want to get the feature done in time for the winter edition.” Pepper opens her mouth to fire another question, but you’re one step ahead of her. “I’ve already blocked out a date in your calendar and sent the invite to his team.”

A soft smile graces the woman’s face as she scribbles notes in her daybook. “And what does my schedule look like for today?”

You sort through the mental files that contain minute-to-minute information regarding your boss’s workday. “You’re pretty booked. You have that photoshop with James Barnes at noon, and after-”

“Shit,” Pepper mummers, cutting you off. Panic quickly settles into her features. “Why does Tony do this? Barnes is impossible to book for anything. I can’t miss this….”

“Uh, no, you can’t,” you practically screech as you fix your boss with a wild look. “This photoshoot has been on your schedule since before I even started. And the time you have set up with him next week doesn’t allow for a full interview, photoshoot, and get material for the short online feature.” You try not to let the panic come out in your voice, but this is precisely the kind of incident you were hired to prevent.

Pepper gently closes her laptop and sets her features in a serious look. “Listen, I think you’re doing a great job here, and you’ve grown so much within the few months you’ve been on the team.” You eye her suspiciously, wondering if this was your ‘you’re fired’ speech. If so, it was definitely coming out of left field. “Why don’t you take my place at the shoot today? If Tony hadn’t promised I’d be in attendance for this investor meeting today, I’d have you go to that instead. But,” the blonde sighs deeply before continuing, “Tony has no regard for anyone’s schedule, and this is an important meeting.”

Your stomach drops from the 44th floor you’re currently on down to ground level. You’d never been on a set before, let alone one with someone as big as James. Plus, you’d only been on a handful of mid-sized interviews. How did she expect you to do this by yourself?

“Pepper, I…”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to try and tell me that you’re not ready and that you can’t possibly clear your schedule for the afternoon. But if I didn’t think you were capable of holding your own, you wouldn’t even be sitting here with ‘assistant editor’ in front of your name. You have the skillset; you just need to show that you can use it. I know you don’t want to be an assistant forever.”

You anxiously bite your lip, feelings of inadequacy and anxiousness filling your senses.

“I don’t even know this James guy…” you say, defeated.

“Well, the car doesn’t arrive for another,” she looks down at her phone, “forty-five minutes. You better get reading.”

“We really need to bring you into the twenty-first century,” Natasha, Bucky’s manager, says as the first notes of My Funny Valentine start dancing through today’s set.

Following the too-bright flash of the camera, Bucky blinks the starbursts out of his eyes and tries to set the redhead with as stern of a look as possible. “Don’t you dare diss Mr. Sinatra. He’s a classic. A legend!” He watches as a stylist runs up and begins fussing with his hair.

Natasha just rolls her eyes and goes back to scrolling through her phone. As much as she acts annoyed with him - and his insistence of having at least two dozen 40’s songs on every photoshoot playlist - he knew she wouldn’t trade him for the world. They had a long history pre-dating the entertainment industry, and she was damn good at her job. If it wasn’t for Nat, Bucky’s not sure his current agency would have even signed him.

As the stylist finishes up her poking and prodding, the photographer - who Bucky has already forgotten the name of - begins shouting out directions from behind the camera. Pose this way. Turn that way. Make it look like you want to be here. It takes everything in Bucky not to grimace - both at the consistent reconfiguring he has to do to his body and the loud rumble that echoes through his stomach. The shirtless pictures they were shooting today caused him - against his better judgment - to forgo breakfast and, with nothing but too-weak black coffee in his system, Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little agitated.

“Just a few more shots, and then we can break for lunch,” he hears the man behind the camera shout before dragging the camera back up to his face.

Bucky contorts himself into a position that shows off the abs he’s worked incredibly hard to achieve and maintain and masks his face in the perfect moody smolder these magazines love so much. Three more pops of the shutter, some grumbling and direction by the photographer, and one more position change, and he’s finally free.

As he’s looking at the pictures and throwing a robe over his bare torso and boxer-clad bottom, Bucky’s attention is pulled from the camera’s tiny screen to the back of the spacious room by Natasha’s stern, Russian-lilted voice. The accent only came out when she was agitated, so the sound alone is often used as a warning sign to those closest to her to stay away.

“How did you even get up here? Is there no security in place? I swear-”

Bucky turns to find his manager - all five-foot-three inches of her - standing defensively in front of whomever she’s cornered by the elevator.

“As I said, I’m here in place of Ms. Potts.” Bucky perks up at the second voice; is almost positive he recognizes the sweet melody despite having only encountered it once several months before. “Here, look, I have my badge.”

Sure enough, as Bucky scurries over to the duo, he sees a familiar face anxiously looking at his manager. He might be terrible with names, but Bucky Barnes rarely forgets a face.

“Natasha, why do you insist on harassing every person who sets foot within a five-foot radius of me while on the job?” Bucky jokes as he approaches the women.

He watches as your attention shifts from the annoyed redhead to him; a look of shock and maybe a hint of mortification flashes across your face.

“I wasn’t harassing. This is a closed set, and randos from the street can’t just walk on up,” Natasha rolls her eyes. “And it’s not you I’m worried about. It’s...you. But you know what I mean!”

He does. After all, protecting his privacy and work is one of Bucky’s most significant concerns. That doesn't mean he isn’t going to tease Natasha any chance he gets. He playfully scoffs and turns his attention to you. “I see you got the job. I told you everything was going to work out.”

Bucky can’t help but preen at the way you anxiously tuck a non-existent stray hair behind your ear and bite your lip. “You were right. Mr. Stark isn’t as intimidating as I thought. Although,” you playfully roll your eyes, “he is a menace. He promised Pepper’s attendance at a meeting, so now you’re stuck with an inexperienced interviewer rather than the queen of journalism.”

“Bah!” Bucky exclaims. “I’m sure you’ll do great. Plus, you’re not the one half-naked in the situation. If anyone embarrasses themselves, it’ll be me.”

Natasha chortles at the comment, mumbling something the sounds a lot like, “ever the charmer,” before walking away. At the same time, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your gaze slowly skims down his cotton-clade body before snapping back up to his face.

“Come on. We just broke for lunch, and Stark spares no expense when it comes to the spreads.”

It’s well past six-thirty in the evening when you finally make it back to your building. Despite the exhaustion flowing through your veins and the grumble in your stomach reminding you every five minutes that you haven’t eaten since lunchtime, there’s a festive air to your being, a proverbial pep to your step that could only be the result of a successful first interview experience.

Yeah, you were a nervous wreck before and during the interview, but you walked away feeling amazing about yourself - and with three pages worth of phenomenal, touching, and personal quotes from the one and only Bucky Barnes.

You try to ignore the butterflies that erupt low in your belly at the thought of the blue-eyed god of a man. Despite having no other experience interviewing someone with as large of a celebrity as he, you’ve concluded that Bucky is an angel of an interviewee. He was polite, answered all of your questions, and flirted just a little. Or, at least that’s what you would call it if you were anyone but a lowly editorial assistant who still purchased from bargain bins because that’s all you could afford. In all reality, Bucky was a very smooth talker with the confidence to back it up. It explained the incomprehensible hype surrounding the man you had no idea was such a big deal less than twelve hours prior.

The rumble of your stomach pulls you back to reality as you unlock your apartment door. You push the thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind, settle for finishing unpacking the day for when you’re unwinding for bed. Right now, all you want to focus on is fo-

“Uh, hello!” your roommate Wanda screeches as you push open the door. The redhead is standing, arms crossed, in your entry, a look of disdain on her face. “When were you going to tell me, your best friend and roommate, who pays half the rent and utilities, mind you, that Bucky Barnes followed you on Instagram. James Bucky Barnes, Y/N!”

You freeze at the mention of the man who has taken up every inch of your mind since you left the shoot earlier that day. You deposit your keys onto the small table next to the door and try to act as nonchalant as possible. “What are you talking about, Wanda?”

Your roommate starts wagging her phone in front of your face before pulling it back so she can read off her screen. “Well, I follow these gossip blogs - just for fun, of course. I like to stay up-to-date with all the celebrity goings-on.” You fix Wanda with an unamused look as you pass by on the way to the kitchen. “And I was scrolling through, catching up on today’s gossip, and all of a sudden, I see a screenshot of your Instagram account!”

You freeze mid-reach for a saucepan and turn to look at her. “What?”

“Yea, see,” Wanda holds her phone out so you can see the screen. Low and behold, there your account is; questionably composed landscape shots of the city and poorly-lit food pics in all their glory. “It started to circulate this afternoon after someone saw he followed you! Why did he follow you?”

You slowly resume your task of reheating last night’s spaghetti as you answer her. “I...I don’t know? I met him at work this afternoon. He probably just followed me because of Stark.” You shrug despite the thrill that runs through your body.

You halfheartedly listen as Wanda blabs on about the crush she’s apparently had for years despite never having once mentioned it to you, too focused on running through the day’s events to care much about how she’s seen every single one of his films at least a dozen times.

Maybe he had been flirting with you? His manager did mention he flirts with anything with a heartbeat, so it was most likely just part of his personality. Or at least the role he played in public. You weren’t naive enough to think that who Bucky presented himself as to the media, fans, and others not in his inner circle was the real Bucky. After all, he was likely just trying to win you over so you’d write something good about him.

Still, you can’t help the giddy smile that creeps across your face as, when you finally lie down for the night, you open the Instagram app to find Bucky’s name and verified status among the several notifications awaiting you.

@redbarn1995 @juenenfeu

#bucky x reader #actor!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #actor au #bucky barnes au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic

60 notes · View notes

xneens · 4 years ago

Text

love me, hate me - part one

Warnings: swearing, angst if you squint, mild violence

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: Who knew Ransom would get so worked up about a few stolen beers?

Or: In which he's a sucker for you but those were his favorite beers.

He didn't know why he put up with your shit. If you had been anyone else, you'd be working at a dead end job that barely covered your bills instead of walking around the mansion in your brand new Lois Vuitton purse, Jimmy Choo heels that screamed for him to fuck you, and a tight dress he wanted to tear off.

You even had the balls to call him Hugh, a name he specifically reserved for the help. When he informed you, you had rolled your pretty powdered eyes, sneering at him for being an inconsiderate asshole before asking why he wasn't calling himself Hugh due to the massive help sign that was disguised as his cashmere sweater.

Ransom didn't know if he wanted to hurt you or make you his. He preferred the latter but with the way you were pushing him, he wouldn't be surprised with himself if you somehow found yourself in the backseat of his car, tied up and awaiting for him to fuck you senseless. If you had been anyone else, he would ruin your life without hesitation.

He tried to hate you, he really did and usually, it wouldn't be hard for him to hate someone. Most of the time it barely took him a glance for him to decide to loathe the person. But as he tried harder to hate you, forget you, and ignore you, the more you wiggled your way into his every thought. Even then he couldn't hate you. It made part of him want to ditch family gatherings where he knew you would show, being Meg's best friend, and another part of him was exhilarated.

You on the other hand dreaded being dragged into another Thrombey's family gathering where it all ended in arguments and racists comments. The only people you were able to stomach were Harlan, his adorable nurse, Martha, and of course, your best friend Meg. Whenever the conversation began to look like a shouting match, the two of you would sneak away to get high with the maid, Fran.

Ransom was an asshole, a hot, smoldering asshole with enough snarky remarks that would make any sane person hang themselves. You knew he wasn't a fan of yours, which was only good news for you; you hated him, too. The expression "there's a little bit of good in everyone." applied to everyone except him, not that you weren't surprised. Truth to be told, you wouldn't put it past him to kill a family member if they pissed him off enough.

With the number of jabs you made at his expense, you were shocked he hadn't ruined your life yet. Maybe you had a death wish dangling over you, or maybe you just liked pushing him but you made it your little mission to ruin his evening since yours would be the second he stepped in the room.

Meg nudged you with her elbow, leaving a sore spot on your ribs. You gave her a dirty glare, looking up from your Instagram feed. She motioned to the large mansion ahead, the car slowing. "Okay, the plan is to get drunk, but not enough for my drunk relatives to notice and once they're having one of their dumb-ass debates, we sneak off to Fran's room and smoke a few. That sound good?"

Stretching, you nodded, tucking your phone away. "Yeah, that's fine. Remind me how I ended up spending Thanksgiving break with you, again? What did I ever do to deserve such a punishment?"

"You crushed your parent's wishes on becoming a lawyer, instead became an Instagram model, and the holidays with them are too long for you to hear how their daughter could've convicted criminals instead of posting bikini pics," Meg replied, grinning at your sarcastic pout. She stopped the car right beside her mom's. "Come on, it won't be that bad."

"That's what you said last time. Do you not remember how that little reunion ended?" you asked, opening the car door and getting out. The little gravel on the cemented driveway crunched under your new heels, making you grimace.

Meg shut her door, grabbing her purse. She waited at her side of the car and you both walked up to the door. "Actually, I don't. I'm surprised you can especially with all the weed you smoked."

Rolling your eyes, your mind wandered to the man who had killed your buzz. "Your asshole of a cousin ruined my buzz just by opening his mouth. He could be so much hotter if he never utters a single word ever again."

"Please stop talking about Ransom, it's making my lunch come back up." Meg whined, her feet trudging up the steps. Your heels clicked on the wooden porch. "Which reminds me, he kept asking if you were going to be here. Be careful, he might have a little trap to humiliate you in front of my family. If that happens, just knee him in the balls, and we can go to Cabo or something."

You made a face, cringing just thinking of Ransom asking about you, let alone imagining some kind of plan to embarrass you. "Ugh, what a dick. It's time like this that I regret not going back to my crazy family for holidays."

"You'll be fine. Hopefully. Let's go see Harlan." she opened the door, taking off the lush coat draped over her shoulders before placing it on the spacious coat closet by the entrance. She held her hand out for yours and you slid it off handing it over for her to hang up.

Martha greeted you before you could take another step, the Latina smiling at both of you. "I'm so glad both of you are here. The rest came in before you and they've been bickering since."

You both gave her knowing smiles, the loud discussion so heated you could hear it from all the way across the house. Meg sighed, snaking an arm around yours and Martha, pulling you towards Fran's quarters. "Looks like Harlan will have to wait. I'm not going in there sober."

Martha shook her head, slipping her arm out from Meg's grasp. "Sorry, I don't drink and I have to serve them before they get any rowdier. Between the three of us, I'd rather not see another fist brawl this holiday."

You let out a dry chuckle, fixing the hem of your dress. What were you thinking wearing such a tight dress to a party where Richard Drysdale would mentally undress you with his beady eyes. "We'll come with you, now won't we, Meg?"

She groaned, getting pulled by you, her feet dragging on the hard floor. "We're spending Christmas at your parents' house. You can suffer the family drama because I've had it up to here with mine."

"Oh, you big baby." you teased, following Martha to the living room with Meg in tow. You'd think with all the drama she endured from her crazy mother she'd be able to handle a little more from her crazy relatives. "Wanna mess with that racist, whiney troll?"

Meg's lips lifted into a smile. "That's why you're my best friend."

Martha took a turn towards the kitchen instead of the living room, leaving you and Meg to enter the roomful of crazies alone. Some heads turned but not enough to stop the little debate happening.

Jacob sat at the uncomfortable seat in the corner of the room, watching and tapping the screen in front of him, his eyes never tearing from the device. Linda and Donna sat side by side while their husbands had a screaming match with the other. Joni stood by the fireplace, sipping her wine, and occasionally input some random Pinterest inspirational shit. Your eyes landed on the man you thought would take his sweet time arriving.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale sat at his self-proclaimed seat, eating his Biscoff butter cookies, a smirk evident on his face as he watched you walk into the room. He tried to ignore the way his heart raced, blaming it on the cookies and his seven-month dry spell.

You broke free from Meg's arm, pouring yourself a flute full of champagne, swallowing every last drop before making your way to the plush couch, sitting beside your best friend. Your perfume whiffed in the air as you passed Ransom, making him sit up in his chair. You sat close enough for him to reach over and touch you, but he didn't.

Linda gave you the warmest smile she could muster, interrupting the men's argument to greet you. "Hello, darling. Glad you could make it. At least now there's someone in the room with half a brain."

Walt sneered at his sister before giving you a half-hearted smile. "Hey, kid. Your dad still adamant you become a lawyer?"

"Yup," you answered, pulling out your phone, seeing a bunch of notifications from said person. "Why else do you think I let Meg kidnap me, Walt? No offense, but Thanksgiving at the Thrombey's doesn't classify as peaceful or relaxing."

Ransom guffawed, earning glares from his family members. He smirked at you, biting off a piece from his cookies. "Finally, someone who speaks the truth. No wonder she's his favorite."

That subject launched another debate: deciding who was Harlan's favorite. It was no doubt, Martha was but you did come at a close second. Ransom knew, and he didn't want to miss an opportunity to watch his relatives fight. He was a dick that way. He glanced at you, seeing your phone light up as you whispered a secret to Meg. You ignored the phone call, turning over the phone.

While the rest of the family argued, you left Meg's side, getting up from the uncomfortable couch, and walked out of the room. Ransom watched you, licking his lips at the sight of sashaying, hips swaying, and heels clicking. The crotch of his pants grew uncomfortably tight.

Meg watched him watch you with narrowed eyes, suspicious by her cousin's behavior. He may be 33 but he still acted like a teen, and with her best friend pushing him, there was no telling what he'd do. "If you do anything stupid or remotely offensive to her, I'll make sure to send her your head for her next birthday. Maybe she'll have it taxidermied, and hang it up."

Ransom smirked, tossing the last of his cookie in his mouth, chewing as he looked down at his cousin. "That'll only give me a view of a lifetime. My, this college you go to doesn't seem to teach manners does it? Charming as ever, Meg."

She scowled at him, getting up in the middle of the argument. She couldn't stop whatever he was planning if she didn't know what he had in mind but she wasn't going to ruin this holiday for her best friend. Meg followed you to the kitchen, seeing you take a shot glass from Martha. "Drinking already?"

"Don't judge me. Lemme wallow in the warmth and love of the alcohol that your family isn't capable of," you replied, drinking the clear liquid, grimacing as it burned your throat. Martha handed you the chaser, her timid personality making her put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Thanks, Martha."

Meg took the bottle of vodka, pouring herself a shot before offering it to Martha who had shaken her head. "You sure?"

She nodded, placing the bottle back in its place. "Yeah, I don't need to be drunk when serving those people. It seems like it's even worse out there than before."

"Thank Ransom. That bastard decided to start another fight just by opening his mouth," you said, sipping on a glass of water. Sniffing the room, you smelt the Thanksgiving dinner Martha had to cook by herself. You knew she had to make a special meal for Ransom since he wouldn't dare put the traditional food in his mouth. Too bad, it'd shut him up. "Why is he here, anyway? Isn't he usually the last one to get here?"

"Usually, but he came with Linda and Richard. Don't worry, you're not the only confused." Martha answered. The oven timer beeped and she opened it, taking out the pumpkin pie. She held it out. "What do you guys think?"

"Looks delicious," Meg replied, looking around the room. The sun was setting and soon you would have to face Ransom again, for dinner. "Do you need any help, Martha? We could help you set up the table or something."

"No, it's fine. I have everything taken care of," she said, nearly dropping the big turkey. Meg helped her, carrying it to the counter. Martha smiled sheepishly. "I guess I could use some help. Meg, do you mind stirring the gravy? And [Y/N], would you please place some knives at the table?"

Both you and Meg nodded, helping the poor nurse. Harlan must've let Fran have the day off or else she'd be all over this. Meg grabbed a plastic ladle from the drawers while you took a handful of knives, leaving the kitchen and walking to the dining room. The long table had been filled with plates, glasses, and napkins, the only thing missing was silverwares. Harlan would have to give Martha a raise.

You had just placed the first knife down when Ransom came in the room, leaning against the arch, arms crossed as he took you in. Watching you, he realized he might have a knife kink, only when it comes to you. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to make some kind of remark.

When he didn't, you sighed, tossing a knife onto a clothed napkin. "Yes, you pretentious asshole?"

He chuckled, pushing himself off the wood and walking towards you. "Hello to you, too. Why exactly are you doing that? Shouldn't that Mary girl be taking care of everything?"

Oh, the urge to stab a knife in his face--it was almost too much to resist. "It's Martha and unlike you, I'm nice enough to offer help rather than be a lazy prick who no one loves. Karma's gonna bite you in the ass one day, baby."

Ransom snorts, walking up next to you, so close you could feel the heat coming off of him. "You know, my dear cousin mentioned something about some prank she thinks I'm going to pull on you. Do you know what's going on in that stoned brain of hers?"

"Ransom?" you asked, making your way around the large table, placing knives where they belonged. Gritting your teeth into a smile, you turned to him. "I mean this in the best way possible: fuck off."

He would never dare admit it, to himself even, but that hurt him a little. Not enough to break his smug exterior. "Aw, I like you, too, sweetheart. Hurts when you don't admit you do, too. Want some help on the other silverware?"

Your jaw dropped, the knife slipping through your fingers and Ransom caught it quickly. He placed the knife on the empty, designated napkin. "You're fucking with me."

"No, but I sure would like to fuck you." he grinned, the hidden objective twinkling in his eyes. You rolled your eyes, returning back to the kitchen with Ransom following. "Can't a guy help out around here?"

Ransom grabbed your hand before you could push the kitchen door open. He gently led you to the dark, almost hidden hallway beside the dining room. You snatched your hand back, your elbow grazing the wall behind you. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Spending time with my favorite person," Ransom answered, the smirk gone as he backed you to the wall behind you, leaving you no room to escape. Not that you wanted to. His eyes dropped to your lips, only to darken when yours flashed to his. "Why're you so special? Why do you keep invading my thoughts, my dreams, huh? What're you doing to me?"

That made you smile, amused he couldn't stop thinking about your body. You drag your manicured finger down his blue sweater, earning a shaky breath from him. "Glad to know you have wet dreams about me, Hugh. Hmm, what do you get off to, anyway? Degradation? BDSM? Or are you vanilla in bed? With the way you act, it makes me wonder if you even have a dick."

He growled, slamming you into the wall so hard your head made a loud thud. You'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on a bit. You did like it rough. "Your a guest here, act with respect, [Y/N]. Close that mouth before you say something you'll regret."

"Wouldn't you like it if I used my mouth for something useful?" you breathed, hands resting on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. His eyes drifted to your lips, tongue darting out to moisten his own. "Yeah, you would."

"What that mouth do, sweetheart?"

You heard the oven timer ding and you smiled, moving your lips to his ear. "Eat."

—

His thigh brushed against yours, a hand "accidentally" landing on your bare thigh, his fingers wrapping around the leg. You flashed him a hard smile before moving your thigh away, almost kicking his wife across the table. You scooted closer to Ransom, hoping to avoid his father's uncomfortable advances. If it wasn't for Linda, you would've stabbed the knife you were holding in his hand.

Apparently, you scooted a bit too close to Ransom for him to raise an eyebrow at you, the hint of a soft grin appearing. You glared at him. "Don't."

Ransom chuckled softly, moving closer, close enough for your shoulders to touch. "Now who likes my company?"

"I do like your company... said no one ever." you snapped, keeping enough distance from Richard's wandering hands. If you could, you would've rip his fingers off, but the Thrombey's were too powerful. Ransom threw you a glance, looking between you and the gap between your chairs. You grit your teeth. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

You pushed away from the table, frustrated with everything about your situation. Tossing your napkin on your plate, you stood up, catching everyone's eye. "Excuse me."

Meg was in the middle of eating her share of the turkey, looking up with a piece of the skin hanging from her mouth. If you hadn't felt so uncomfortable, you would've laughed. She sat up, tilting her head in question as she covered her mouth. You shook you head, assuring her you'd be fine.

Ransom's eyes followed you as you walked by Harlan, giving him a gentle peck on the cheek and a hug before walking out of the dining room. He didn't think he'd ever be jealous of his grandfather. He waited a few seconds before following you, Meg's narrowed eyes watching him as he walked with purpose—he just didn't know what that was yet.

He heard your door slam before he could take a step up the stairs, leaving him confused on what to do. Ransom knew you would reject his company, not that he would blame you. Yet, he felt a little pang in his chest that he ignored, blaming it on the salty turkey. He'd have to go to the doctor soon, check out what was going on with his heart. It might be something serious like palpitations.

Sighing, he went to the kitchen, grabbing a beer and dragged his feet back to his room, trying to forget about the effect you had on him.

It didn't work.

—

Crawling out of bed, you tiptoed down the hall, careful not make a sound as you made your way downstairs. The stairs were loud and you cringed, hoping everyone was deep asleep. Meg had passed out after smoking Fran's stash, plopping down on her bed in your shared bedroom. She reeked of weed and that hadn't help you sleep at all.

You snuck into the kitchen, the soft counter lights bright in the dark room. Walking over to the fridge, you pulled it open, seeing Ransom's alleged "best" beer right at the front. Rolling your eyes, you grab one, popping the cap off. You took a sip, agreeing with the asshole; it was great beer.

Unfortunately, he chose that right moment to have a midnight snack. The kitchen door opened and Ransom was greeted by the sight of you drinking his beer in your tight tank top and booty shorts. It was enough for him to lose it.

Angrily, he walked up to you, snatching the beer from your hand, some of it dripping on the floor. He held it up in front of you with a sneer on his face. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my beer?"

You flinched when he threw it across the room, the shards sprinkling out on the floor. If his yelling hadn't woken up anyone, that certainly would've. Rolling your eyes, you sighed, crossing your arms. "Don't you mean Harlan's beer? It's not like you bought that beer from your own pocket since you don't do shit."

"Oh, I don't do shit? Unlike you I don't depend on horny men and lesbians for likes in order to keep a roof over my head." he spits, pushing you back against the counter.

"No, you just take money from mommy and daddy." you fired back, amused by his anger. You decided then you had a death wish. Or maybe it was just hot seeing Ransom so riled up. Either way, you weren't complaining.

Ransom growled, hands gripping your waist so tightly you were sure it would leave bruises. "Shut up."

Smirking, you lean towards him, lips hovering his. "Make me."

Before he could kiss you, you shoved him away, took another beer from the fridge and walked away without giving him a second look. Ransom stared after you, gripping the kitchen counter.

This wasn't over.

part two

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans masterlist #chris evans x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #steve rogers #captain america

214 notes · View notes

darklove9314-blog · 3 years ago

Text

You are My Home: A Nessian Fanfic (NSFW)

Day 25 of Nessian month, Prompt: After the mating Cermony @illyrianet

Cassian swept Nesta in his arms as a giggle tore from her lips, an actual giggle,he spun them around looking down at Nesta with love and hunger in his eyes before taking the keys to their house from her and placing it in the lock.

Their house. It had such a nice ring to it. She could imagine everything they would do to make this house theirs. Could imagine filling the rooms up with their future children when the time was right.

When Cassian got the door unlocked, he looked down at her, smiling broadly.

“I heard it was a human custom to carry your bride over the threshold.“ He stated making her smile before stepping over the threshold placing a kiss to her mouth, full of promises of what he was going to do to her. It thrilled her down to her very core.

She wanted to do more, but the ribbon bounding their two hands together made things somewhat difficult, Cassian chuckled as if sensing this,

“The band will sink into our flesh the moment I’m inside of you. “ He whispered to her inbetween his hungry and ravenous kisses.

“Then what are you waiting for? Make me yours in every way, Cassian.”

Cassian smirked taking her to the room that had became theirs setting her down on the floor gently as his free hand went to the buttons of her dress. unfastening them one by one inbetween his kisses. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Hadnt wanted to ever since they had officially been declared as mates.

She didn’t mind. Wouldn’t mind if he kissed her like this for eternity.

“That won’t work.“ She told him gesturing to the band. “My dress will get caught on this.“

Cassian growled softly. “Are you fond of the dress?” He asked.

“Depends are there tailors who can fix it?” She asked earning her a smoldering look from Cassian. He nodded.

“Then what are you waiting for?” She asked.

His face went primal with his need, his hands going to the back of her dress again only this time their was no gently fumbling with the buttons there. This times when his hands found the back of her dress, He grabbed the two flaps tearing the back of her dress open. The buttons of her dress scattering all over their floor.

She let out a breath as he put her on the bed hovering over her. That Gods damned dress still in their way as she cried out.

”Cassian.” His name a plea on her lips.

His hand went to her skirts ripping the fabric there. Her dress now in ruins as they got the remainder of it off. Nesta could have swore she heard Cassian breath hitch up slightly.

He circled one of her bare nipples surprised to see that she had been wearing nothing underneath the dress.

“I think you forgot your underwear this morning, mate.” He smiled down at her, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

She raised her chin defiantly.

”I didn’t forget.“ She rasped out. going towards his dress shirt and ripping it open. The buttons of his shirt joining hers on the floor. “I just didn’t want anything to get in my way.“

She pulled him to her, crashing his lips into hers as his grip on her waist tightened as if holding back. She tore her mouth from his, letting every bit of that fire in her gaze.

“It’s our mating night Cassian, Don’t hold back from me. Not tonight.“ She told him smashing her lips back to his, biting it for emphasis. She didn’t want to make love at this moment. She wanted it rougher during their first joining as a mates couple. Wanted him to unleash every bit of power that he had been holding back.

His tongue thrusted into her mouth, claiming every part of it as their tongues fought for dominance. His free hand going to his belt, but having trouble with it. Nesta‘s own hands flew to it. unbuckling his pants as he kicked them off in a frenzy.

Hot need flashed through her, Her core throbbing from the undying want from him. They had told her that after the mating cermony, it would feel like her whole body was set aflame with want. That she would feel everything more strongly than she had before. Even his kisses had felt like magic. She could only guess how much ecstasy she would be in when they finally joined their bodies together.

His hands raked in her hair, pulling at her scalp as he gathered her hair in his hands, winding it around them so she felt everything. She moaned at the pleasure with the sweetest edge of pain.

“How hard did you want it my sweet mate?” He growled.

“Hard.” She told him as he pressed another long hungry kiss to her mouth. before he pulled back.

“Did you take your tonic tonight?” He asked her throwing her off slightly.

“Of course. Why?”

Cassian‘s hand went to her cheek, she leaned into that touch.

“Because the Cermony makes you more fertile. And I know we don’t want to have children anytime soon.”

“At least not until we’re both ready for them, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get in a ton of baby making practice before then.“ She assured him, the corners of his mouth quirking upward as he pressed her firmly onto their bed.

“I like the way you think Archeron.“ He whispered hovering above her lowering his mouth down to hers as she met his. “You know what’s also fun about this bond?”

“What is that?” She asked.

“We can only do it in the first couple of weeks after our mating, but you need to open up your end of the bond for me to do it. If you want to that is.“ He grinned.

She nodded, curiosity winning over as she opened her side of the bond. Cassian pressed kisses down the length of her stomach, spreading her legs for him as he looked up to her for approval. She nodded as the first cress of his tongue shot through her, Only his tongue wasn’t the only thing she had felt.

Her nipples tightened in pleasure until they were pebbled, feeling as if someone’s mouth was upon them She cried out. With each stroke of his tongue, her breast had taken their own pleasure.

“Cassian-What-“

“One of the perks of the Mating Cermony is that we can pleasure each other’s bodies in more ways then one. For example, if I want to caress your nipples with my tongue, but my mouth is already occupied doing something else-”

Nesta gasped, feeling the sensation.Her head dropped back.

“Do you wish for me to continue?” He asked knowing that if he told her to stop that he would, but Hods this was a pleasure that Nesta had never known.

“I’m going to miss that when the bond is sated in a couple of weeks.“ She leaned back on the bed, “Please for the love of the Gods, continue.”

Cassian‘s mouth ascended upon her again, her nipples feeling the sensation once more. Nesta‘s hips thrusted upward making Cassian‘s tongue slip in further. His nails digging into her ass.

Nesta rode Cassian’s tongue as what Cassian had said about the bond rang through her mind. She wondered if it had worked both ways.

Letting her basic instincts take over, Nesta searched the bond, sending a brief thought through it as Cassian growled grabbing her hips and moving them in time with his tongue. She cried out.

“Careful of the wings, sweetheart, you wouldn’t want me to blow my load before I have the chance to be inside you.“

She smirked, so it had worked. She sent a thought again as his moan radiated through her core, This time the thought had been of her fingers stroking his cock, but it worked the same.

“Nesta.“ He growled.

She gasped as the invisible teeth big her nipple lightly. She thrusted upward,

“I think you’re eager for me to be inside of you mate. It’s almost as if you don’t want my tongue between your legs. “ He stated. Nesta narrowed her eyes slightly.

” I never said that, I’m just eager for you to claim whats yours.“

Another growl ripped from Cassian as an idea ripped from his mind, a slow, mischievous smile crossing that glorious mouth of his.

“As you wish mate.“

Before Nesta could register what was happening, Cassian flipped her over so that she was in a sitting position pulling her to his chest as his hands went to her breast.

He sank her down onto his enormous cock plunging into her warmth as Nesta cried out in pleasure. She felt so full in this position.

He leaned into her ear, nibbling it with his teeth as his invisible tongue flicked against her clit making her gasp.

“Home sweet home.“ He told her making her gasp as he thrusted up into her as hard as he could, The invisible tongue still on her clitoris, his hands kneadi g her breast keeping them hard and pleasures for him as he continued to move in her in lovely, hard thrust.

Their ribbon feel away, sinking into their skin, making it easier to maneuver however they wanted. Cassian’s teeth clamped hard on Nesta’s neck making her cry out. as Nesta ran invisible fingers down Cassian’s wings making him tremble. His pace quickening as Nesta‘s cries turned into sobs. Every part of her body feeling like it was on fire.

His invisible tongue flicked against her tongue. barreling her towards her release, She clenched hard around him, milking him with her pleasure for him as he cursed at the tightness.

Wetness pooled on her thighs, not sure if it was from her alone or if Cassian had so much of to release that it was leaking out of her already.

Some noise Nest’s didn’t know she could make sounded out of her as she found her release. He thrusted up into her as much as he could manage as she felt the first spurts of him inside of her causing her to gasp out in pleasure.

Her sex claiming every bit of his release that it could possibly manage before what was left of it leaked out of her coating her thighs with him as he pulled her against his chest, She swore she could feel the racing of his own heart. As his hands found their way to her heart. Feeling it beat underneath his hands as they caught their breath.

Home. She thought. This was what home felt like. He kissed her neck flipping her on her back as he gazed down at pushing her hair back, kissing her forehead as he hardened before her again.

He guided his cock into her again, both of them moaning in pleasure as Cassian pressed his forehead to hers.

“You are my home.“ He whispered to her with each thrust.

“And you are mine.“ She assured him as they made love to each other until their bodies were sated and sleep drifted over them, feeling at peace in each other’s arms.

#nesta archeron #nessian #nesta #cassain #nessianmonth

42 notes · View notes