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standbyric · 2 years ago

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[PART I]

01: After that Maiden Win

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Female!Driver OC x Pierre Gasly Premise: Formula One, Female Racing Driver Rating: 18+; Mature themes (explicit language, death, trauma innuendos, motorsport accident, mentions of sex) Timeline: Back and forth Word Count: 3.4k Sum: The last sentence Daniel could make up was Zea saying, 'I made a friend!'. Yeah. He reckoned they were friends now. Friends with the twins, he meant.

⬅️ Chapter 00 | MASTERLIST | Chapter 02 ➡️

“THE blokes from Audi are throwing a party tonight—“

“—Did you know?”

Michael Italiano gave Daniel a puzzled look when his friend’s response was far from the topic. “Know what?”

“She was apparently raised in Melbourne—so yeah, that explains her accent—and she knows Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Hey, I do a bit of Brazilian jiu-jitsu.”

Daniel hadn’t peeled his eyes off the screen of his laptop. He’d been scrolling through the Wikipedia page—and basically any internet page he could find—of ‘Zeahire Sinaga’ since entering his driver’s suite when his eyes shot sparkles as he seemingly found something in common between him and the lady.

Keeping his puzzled look on, Michael decided to finish cleaning up, rolling the resistance band before putting it back inside the travel bag. His friend-slash-client’s behaviour had amused him, to say the least.

“So, will you be going?” He returned to his first question, hoping it’d be enough trigger for the Red Bull driver to avert his attention from the screen finally.

“What?”

“Maybe instead of googling or Wikipedia-ing the person, make an effort to talk to her?” Michael said with authority. He even crossed his arms. “You know two seasons have passed since she made her debut? And you never talked to her. What’s with the sudden interest?”

Exactly.

Daniel had always been the paddock’s certified carefree guy, but for the past two seasons, he’d been so focused on racing that everything else disconnected for a while. Yeah, he wasn’t the best student at school, but hey—he did know how to focus on his goals, especially after ranking below his teammate, Daniil Kvyat, last season on the Driver’s Standing.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, mate.”

“I’m going.”

“Going what?”

“Her victory celebration party,” Michael threw his arms up, expressing his subtle frustration.

It was Daniel’s turn to give Michael a puzzled look. “You know people from Audi? I didn’t know you’d been talking to them.” Not to belittle anyone’s affability, but it had been an open secret that Daniel is the most outgoing driver—hell, person even—on the grid. And even he hadn’t been buddy-buddy yet with the people from Audi. Blame it on the heated competition and the fact that the team was only established last season; he simply hadn’t the time.

“Yeah. Elijah. I know him.”

“Elijah, who?”

Michael chuckled. “Her performance coach.”

Well. Birds of a feather flock together, Daniel thought.

“Wait, why are we even talking about this again?” The Aussie shook his head because it had almost felt like Michael was onto something.

“Because… it’s an open invite…?” Michael bit his lip before continuing, “and your newly-found interest in her?”

Daniel gave Michael a side eye, trying not to lose his cool over…whatever his performance coach’s tone meant just now.

“Yeah, like I’m interested in Lewis, Seb, Rosberg? Look, she gave me one hell of a competition; you saw how she overtook me in turn 11. It’s natural for us drivers to do our research.” Yeah, right, Sherlock. Even Daniel thought that came out sounding absolutely like a stupid little excuse. Whom was he kidding?

“Alright, mate,” Michael put his hands out front, gesturing his backing down, “I’m just informing you that it’s an open invite. You’re free to show up.”

“…Yeah.”

By the time Daniel arrived at the bar, it was already getting dark. But the music was still on full boost, and he could even make his Team Principal, Christian Horner, chat with whom he assumed to be Abelard ‘Alby’ Krüger, Audi’s Team Principal.

He was greeted by Sebastian Vettel upon entrance, who was sharing a conversation with Lewis, Romain Grosjean, and Sergio Perez, each holding a glass of alcohol.

“Thought you weren’t gonna make it, man.” Lewis gave him a fist bump. “Saw Michael alone.”

“Yeah, had to make rounds with my parents; you know I’m that filial,” he chuckled. “Congrats on P2, mate.”

Lewis shrugged his gratitude, swivelling his glass.

“Got his ass handed by Zea on that last corner. Saw the re-run, and you were struggling there, mate,” Sebastian chipped in, sounding amused. “How does it feel? Getting your ass handed by a woman?”

“Come on, man. I have nothing against female drivers; you know that. Besides, we all got our asses served. On a nice, silver platter.”

The five drivers laughed. No lie to that statement, after all. The first woman who managed to sit at the top of the podium since 1980. She had displayed some solid driving. Perhaps a little too solid for their comfort. But to Lewis’ defence, he was running on an old set of softs for that last three laps when Zea out-paced him to take the chequered flag.

Daniel had also come to fancy himself a glass of alcohol as he continued engaging the others in conversation. The night soon deepened.

“So, are you not going to talk to her? Horner looks interested in her.”

“So is Toto, apparently,” Lewis added his own observation to Sebastian’s statement, finding his Team Principal already within the circle.

Daniel finally followed the line sight of the two drivers beside him.

And there she was.

Arms crossed as she stood tall alongside Krüger, her smile full of confidence. She had an air of authority surrounding her toned figure, which, to Daniel’s curiosity, he found…intriguing.

“It was definitely the mask.” Grosjean interrupted Daniel’s train of thought.

“Not going to blame anyone for keeping their distance from her because she did use to have that, uh, don’t-talk-to-me atmosphere when she had her black mask on last season.”

Make sense.

“She looks much friendlier now,” and the rest of Grosjean’s sentence derailed onto the back of Daniel’s head.

It was as if he was sucked in.

Her animated expression was back as she answered whatever his Team Principal was saying. She seemed to have the habit of ending every sentence with her signature smile—where the left corner of her lips would lift higher, and her eyes vanish in the shape of a crescent moon—if Daniel were to make a description. He wasn’t very good at expressing how strikingly unique it was. And look at her arm—

“Didn’t know she had a tattoo on her arm,” Daniel muttered. As a self-proclaimed stigmatophile, his love for the ink was up to the extent that he’d keep probing for excuses to engrave new designs on his skin.

That deep black ink on her stood out in contrast against her slightly brown skin. The stroke followed the line of her arm, with the artwork peeking over her exposed back and continuing to frame along her left forearm. It looked like a depiction of a clock and its gears with Roman numbers.

It looked good.

And whatever that top she decided to put on, that is some pretty figure-hugging top. Clearly, the woman had some fashion sense in her. Also that, is some nice ass—Jesus—jeans, he meant.

It’s the alcohol.

Happy laughter from the Australian Grand Prix winner across the room snapped Daniel out of his almost-wild thought. Maybe he should, for the sake of sportsmanship, go over and offer her some words of congratulations. He reckoned he hadn’t done that, and he would’ve usually done that as early as the podium.

“Be right back, guys.”

Alby had begun sounding like an overly proud parent, overselling his all-star daughter to rival parents; Christian and Toto.

But Zea couldn’t, and wouldn’t, blame him for that. The poor old man had had to swallow his pride being the rookie despite having more experience in the motorsport industry.

Audi Sport had made quite the name and reputation for themselves in Rally and endurance races, winning worldwide titles. But in Formula One? Yeah, not so much.

Their first season in 2015, after replacing Marussia F1, who had withdrawn that year, quoting Zea; “car was shit, uncompetitive as fuck, and might blow up” anytime she pushed her pace a little bit. Audi Sport Formula Racing (ASFR) was short on funds and people back in 2015, having been unable to rack up significant sponsorship with-what Zea being a newbie… and a woman.

Laughable.

They needed promising talents at low prices and had to make do with fewer personnel. Their budget was tight as fuck, so Alby was looking for bright undergraduates willing to work for low costs. Getting good results on a race day was like combining excellent luck with prodigious driving skills.

Fortunately, Zea was both.

The result?

She had finished the season with an impossibly possible 100% points rate, squeezing two podiums even, putting Audi alongside McLaren at 5th in the Constructors Standing.

So, yeah, Zea was more than happy to put on a show for Alby today, seeing her boss had been nothing but her ally throughout those tough times.

The only problem was that—she was getting a bit parched. But her means of salvation from the current situation, namely her not-boyfriend-but-twin Irza, was nowhere to be found.

“Daniel!”

Zea jumped a little before turning her head, following the Red Bull Team Principal waving to someone behind her.

Daniel Ricciardo.

The man had given her a pretty hard time for almost twelve laps before a little slip-up from the Aussie allowed her to pass him at turn 11 today. Well, they say luck is a skill.

“Oh, hey, P4 guy!”

“Ouch!”

Zea chuckled at Daniel’s exaggerated display of her words, stabbing him in the heart.

Jester. As usual. What was new?

“Zea here was telling me how she’s gonna have nightmares of your rear,” Christian said.

“Oh yeah?”

It was his big grin that had unconsciously tugged the corner of Zea’s lips.

“Wasn’t the same for me, ‘cause she just flew up to P1. Not enough time for me to get nightmares of her rear.”

Ouch. Did he just insult himself??

Zea snorted hard, struggling to stifle her laugh as she saw Daniel keep his grin even after a somewhat degrading remark he had subjected himself to.

“See, Zea? Fun time. He’d make the perfect teammate.”

Zea coughed out a half smile.

Was Christian really pushing his agenda to recruit the Audi driver right before Alby? Which Zea found ludicrous, to be honest, as the man didn’t even spare her the courtesy of a small chat upon what arguably might have been the best debut season a rookie could have had last year. Come on; she had driven that overgrown lawnmower Audi called a car right up the stairways to Podium. At least Martin Brundle and David Croft had the decency to mention her achievement on the live broadcast, albeit just once. Give the woman credit.

Yet the Red Bull head and a couple of other team principals had jumped on the bandwagon of controversy surrounding her pace. The most popular was weight dispute. From alleging the engine not meeting minimum weight to her weight being too advantageous, seeing she was on the light side.

They had demanded she and Audi be penalised for the car not meeting the regulated weight level…only to be dismissed by the stewards even before they could bring it up to the FIA board. That was because there was absolutely no proof of an engine weight problem, plus her car had been fitted with extra weight to match the male drivers’ average weight. So, yes, no issue there. Quoting Felipe Massa, the only explanation for her pace was, “The kid is fast. Just swallow it. She’s fast.”

Christian might be half joking, for all Zea knew. After all, the man had Max Verstappen—the youngest debutant in the history of Formula One, who had overshadowed her formal debut season last year, in his little pocket. Besides, nah—it had never crossed her mind to race for any other team than Audi.

“I heard they make the fruit punch with pineapple, Zea. You like pineapple, right?”

Nice save, Alby!

“Why don’t you go grab some fruit punch for yourself and don’t mind whatever he said.”

“Oh my, did he say anything?” Her tone was harmless, but it didn’t have to take a genius to understand how bitchy it had meant. “A little mosquito just flew by my ears. Whatever did he say?”

Daniel was the first to break out in loud, crispy laughter, with Christian chewing out a bitter-sounding chuckle after. Superb teamwork from the Audis right there, with Zea immediately erupting in tiny giggles afterwards.

And then, after bidding her smiley goodbye to the other two Team Principals, Zea headed right for the bar. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was parched.

“So… Hello, fellow Aussie.”

Zea took the sight of Daniel as the hunk casually sat himself right next to her. She hadn’t expected him to follow her to the bar. Or was he following her?

“I’m Brazilian—well, half. My mother’s Indonesian,” she said afterwards, deciding that holding a conversation wouldn’t do her any harm.

“You have an Aussie accent. Do Half-Brazilians speak in an Aussie accent?”

Holy mother of icebreakers.

For a moment there, Zea couldn’t speak. Fortunately, she’d been quick enough to prevent her mouth from gaping in disbelief. She was trying to read between the line of his words. The man was a known jester to the entire paddock, so…

But it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since the Brazilian national anthem was played following her podium win. Perhaps he didn’t pay attention?

“…Does it not occur to you that I may have lived in Australia? Hence the accent?”

It was a silent reply from the man as a flush crept up his face. And Zea had started to regret what she had just said. Should she have come up with something witty to counter that instead? But the witty side of her brain seemed to have short-circuited for no reason. She could’ve sworn it had begun as soon as Christian called his name.

“Yeah, sorry, I know… you’re not Australian. Jesus, yeah, that was—that was a really bad choice of topic to break the ice. Damn.” Daniel exhaled loudly, clearly appalled at his own choice of words. “What I mean to say is congratulations on your P1—on your maiden win.”

Zea shook her head as she found her mouth twitch before finally breaking into a wide grin. “Wow—whiewh—that was one horrible attempt at conversation. But don’t worry, mate, I’ve heard worse.”

She giggled harder as Daniel shot her a distressed look laced with his usual humour, “Did you just insult me, woman?”

“I’m sorry, mate. Is it because of the P4? But hey, you still got the fastest lap!”

“Shut up!” he said in mock outrage that successfully sent Zea’s giggle into a full-blown laugh. She didn’t know why she felt the need to rub it on him. She’d found his reaction funny enough for her to keep pushing the belt on the P4 situation. After all, he was well on his way to scoring a podium in his home race.

“Thanks. It’s really nice of you to say that.” Zea genuinely meant that. He’d shown a display of sportsmanship that she needed to see.

“So, uh, Fruit punch?” Daniel pointed his chin to her glass with a hint of judgment.

“Hey, they really make it with pineapple.”

From the confused look that Daniel was giving her, it was clear that she hadn’t given him the answer he was looking for.

She made an ‘o’ shape with her lips before returning to the man. “I don’t drink.”

Daniel was surprised like he was deliberately trying not to hide his surprise with both his eyes wide. Zea chuckled.

“It might sound ridiculous, but I’m actually allergic to alcoholic drinks,” Zea had put a hand over her mouth as she said that, half-whispering to Daniel, a little gesture that Daniel found somehow… adorable, with-what all her changes in expression as she said that.

“I almost died once.”

Jesus, this woman.

Daniel managed to swallow the champagne before her statement could choke him quickly. She had said that a little too light-heartedly that it surprised him.

“Excuse me?”

“From alcohol consumption.”

“Oh?”

“I was hyperventilating, and my obviously dumb brother thought I was breaking some Michael Jackson dance move or something.” Speaking of her brother, Daniel hadn’t seen that not-boyfriend-but-twin-but-regardless-her-guardian all night now. Not that he wished for him to show up now.

“He just got his driver’s license, and obviously, I was the driver in the family. It was so chaotic. He was crying in the car; I was literally fighting against air, but we got to the hospital on time, so I didn’t die. I mean, I could have if he were five minutes late. Then I wouldn’t be here talking with you, drinking fruit punch.”

Again with her light-heartedness. It made Daniel feel like they’d been friends for the longest time.

A little sensation he’d reckoned might be regret began creeping up. Like, what had been holding him up from at least befriending this woman that it had taken him almost two seasons? The mask?

“I… I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

He’d dragged a giggle out of her. Her eyes immediately disappeared into a pair of crescent moons—adorable. Her head shook, making the number 8 earrings on each side of her ears jiggle in response.

Must be for her racing number. 88.

Daniel had to admit he’d enjoyed this little conversation they’d been sharing a tad more than he thought.

Well.

Thirty per cent conversation from her side, seventy per cent just him taking the sight of her like she was some anomaly. Not in a negative way, obviously.

It was just that; she’d always sounded stoic from the bits of radio broadcasted on re-runs. Her messages were short, direct and meant to be on the concise side, so Daniel couldn’t even imagine her capable of being this…laid back.

“Speaking of your brother… looks like he’s gotten himself company.”

Zea peeled her eyes off the grinning Aussie to follow his pointing chin, albeit reluctantly.

Oh. Her supposedly means of salvation, her beloved twin, engaging in what looked to be some pleasant conversation. With a lady.

“Oho…” She leaned herself onto the bar, her hand supporting her head. A smile was apparent on her face.

She wasn’t going to lie; it had warmed her heart seeing her brother showing interest in another woman besides herself.

It wasn’t long until her starring eventuated in an eye-contact with her brother.

Irza bid the lady a quick goodbye before walking towards the bar.

“I saw that.”

That was not the first sentence Irza had expected to hear from his twin when he finally spotted her hanging on the bar. The two had been immediately separated as soon as the party started, with him being her agent and all. It was satisfying yet exhausting, dealing with the growing attention in her stead. Zea’s performance had put her on sponsors’ radar; and of course, he was more than proud of her.

His forehead creased as he squinted his eyes, confused at whatever she meant to say.

“Whatever that was, I saw that.”

It was that annoying I-know-what’s-going-on look she had given him, coupled with her annoying hand gesture.

“But, seriously. A handshake? Mate, what are you, five?”

“And you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” Zea bit back. “I don’t even drink, you dumbo.”

“From the sugar, dumbo. Duh.”

Daniel couldn’t help but chuckle at the exchange. “That’s kinda—err—her fifth glass of Fruit Punch.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to inform the brother.

“Oh, see? Now that explains.”

Daniel comically shrugged his shoulders when Zea glared at him as if he had betrayed her. He grinned back at her.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here before you start lecturing him.” Irza had activated his big-brother card, leading Zea out of her seat, to which she obediently followed. “Sorry, mate, she’s kinda weak with sugar. Hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

Daniel greeted his teeth playfully as he shook his head. He didn’t know what could possibly give her brother the idea that she’d bother him. She’d been nothing but a great company the whole night. Besides, even if she did, Daniel wouldn’t mind, honestly.

“Oh.” Irza turned back. “Congrats on P4, mate. Amazing drive.”

Daniel immediately beamed with a huge grin. “Geez, thanks!” he said, returning Irza’s fist bump as the responsible brother dragged Zea out of the bar. The last sentence he could make up was Zea saying, ‘I made a friend!’

Yeah. He reckoned they were friends now.

Friends with the twins, he meant.

⬅️ Chapter 00 | MASTERLIST | Chapter 02 ➡️

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Updating this now because Japanese grand prix was a mess and I'm so mad at it. I hope this is a good chapter to start this story. And I know, but let’s pretend Mikey had been with Danny since 2016 haha .

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@scotlynaurora @squidwardsluverxx

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comfortbucky · 3 years ago

Note

hey hey! can u do some fluffy bucky about having to share a hotel room w u and there’s only one bed!!!! and he’s trying to be respectful n stuff but man does he have the fattest crush on u! thank u <333

HEY HEY YES OMFGGG THE ONE BED TROPE (ur mind😌🤝)

i’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE I DIDN’T EXPECT IT TO COME SO SOON

𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗱, 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗼𝘁𝘀 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚

pairing: bucky x fem!avenger!reader

tags: enemies(?) to lovers BABYYYY, angst, fluff

A/N: i almost always write about tfatws!bucky in mind but let me try and branch out by writing about avenger!bucky hehe

i hope u enjoy🥺💗i absolutely loved this prompt and loved writing this!!!! (it is almost 4am for me as i am posting this :) i’m insane :))

this oneshot will not be following the canon timeline!

word count: 2k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

“Stick to the plan, Y/N.” Steve’s voice came through over the intercom. She rolled her eyes at his warning. He always seemed to be extra cautious with her, making her feel like an unimportant member of the team, and this mission was no different.

“I got this,” she said, completely ignoring his request and charging headfirst at the enemy. Her brash decision resulted in her receiving a heavy beat down, ending up with a split lip and fractured ribs.

Needless to say, Steve was pissed. He and Y/N developed a close friendship over the years, during his search for Bucky. She was oftentimes the one who would stay up all night with him, looking for any trace of Bucky’s existence online. She’d become one of the closest people in his life, which is exactly why he was upset with her, endangering her own life.

After the mission, he confronted her at the base camp.

“You could’ve gotten killed!”

“But I didn’t,” she snapped back. “And the mission was a success anyways, so I don’t get why you’re so mad right now.”

Steve closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“It’s reckless behavior like this that’s eventually going to get you killed, Y/N.”

Bucky walked into the room and immediately regretted his decision as soon as he laid his eyes on Y/N. He’d come to foster an animosity towards her, after seeing her close friendship with Steve. After Bucky joined the Avengers, he noticed how much time they spent together, and jealousy started to fester within him. Steve was the only person he felt comfortable being around in the tower and she constantly took him away from Bucky. Everyone else seemed to have an aversion to him, or so he assumed. He never gave anyone the chance to get to know him, locking himself up in his room most hours of the day. Bucky didn’t think anyone would want to get to know an ex-assassin, especially one that killed the Tony Stark’s parents. She was the one thing that kept Steve away from him and he despised it. So Bucky did what he did best and avoided any sort of interaction with her.

Steve looked at Bucky and suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He had noticed how closed-off Bucky had been since joining the Avengers and refused to let Y/N be alone, worried that she might make another brazen decision. He hatched a plan to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.

“Bucky,” Steve said, making his way over to him. “You and Y/N will be assigned to the same room tonight.”

Bucky choked on his own spit in response and Y/N began to protest.

“You’re not serious, right?” Steve turned to face her with a stern expression.

“You’re not giving me any reason to trust you to be alone.” She let out a defeated sigh and crossed her arms across her chest.

“Why me?” Bucky asked, trying to figure out how he ended up in this situation.

Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Because I trust you, Buck. I need you to do this for me.”

Bucky could see the desperation in Steve’s eyes and reluctantly nodded.

Steve was able to obtain another key card to the hotel room that Y/N was assigned to for the mission. He forgot to take into account the logistics of the sleeping arrangements, leaving Bucky to find a single bed as he entered Y/N’s room.

Bucky froze, his right hand on the door handle, keeping it open, his left hand by his side, holding his duffel bag. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what to do, when Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Relax,” she started, motioning for him to come inside. “I’ll sleep on the floor, alright?”

Y/N knew that Bucky didn’t like her, despite Steve trying to convince her otherwise. It hurt her feelings a bit, especially after she’d learned so much about him through both Steve’s stories and the time she spent tracking him down. He was such an important person to Steve, her close friend, and Bucky hated her. At first, she figured he was shy and wasn’t ready to open up to anyone else, especially after all the trauma he endured. But she realized he actively disliked her over time, with Bucky always leaving the room when she entered or ignoring her offers to hang out with her and Steve. Eventually, she gave up on reaching out to Bucky, as she only seemed to upset him further, no matter what she did. She figured it was for the best.

Bucky stepped into the room and shook his head.

“Bed’s too soft for me anyways, I’ll take the floor,” he grumbled.

Y/N shrugged in response, knowing that Bucky would be too stubborn to try and argue against. She turned around and picked up the phone, calling the front desk to ask for extra blankets and pillows. When she hung up the phone, she turned back to Bucky to see him nod in thanks.

The rest of the night was silent, as they both prepared for bed, taking turns going into the bathroom to wash up and change. While Y/N was in the bathroom, Bucky arranged the extra blankets and pillows into a makeshift bed on the ground, something that he’d done countless times before. Y/N exited the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that covered her shorts, and placed her toiletries bag in one of the hotel dresser drawers.

“Bathroom’s all yours.” Bucky grunted in response, grabbing some clothes and a bag headed for the bathroom.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he stated, just before shutting the door behind him. Y/N scoffed at his comment, gently climbing into bed, in an attempt to not further injure her ribs. She winced as she tried to get into a comfortable position before settling to sleep on the side of her unaffected ribs.

Bucky emerged from the bathroom to see Y/N lying on her left side, her back towards him. He assumed that she had already fallen asleep and quietly crawled into his makeshift bed.

Approximately 10 minutes had passed, when he heard her sniffling. At first, he thought the noise was coming from outside the window, but he traced it back to her. He remained lying on his back for a moment, deciding whether or not to say something. Bucky sighed before speaking.

“You okay?” Y/N immediately stiffened upon hearing Bucky’s voice. She was hoping that he wouldn’t hear her crying, despite his super soldier hearing abilities.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied back, her voice wavering as she spoke. Y/N hated how weak and pathetic she sounded in that moment. Her fractured ribs made it hard for her to breathe and the adrenaline, that was previously shielding her from the pain, had faded, leaving her to lie there in agony. On top of that, she also felt that this mission solidified her belief that Steve had little faith in her ability to be an Avenger. The last thing she wanted to do right now, was to confess her insecurities to Bucky.

Bucky’s attitude softened, hearing Y/N’s voice crack when she spoke. He knew she’d gotten hurt due to her own, dumb, decision during the mission. Bucky quietly pulled his blankets off and stood up, leaving the room without saying another word. As soon as the door shut, Y/N burst into tears. Bucky did exactly as he’d done in the past many times before, leave. She wasn’t sure why this time upset her more than the rest. Probably because she knew that he was aware of her crying and he’d still chosen to abandon her completely.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, causing her to stop crying. Y/N listened to Bucky’s footsteps growing closer, and felt the bed dip under his weight as he sat on the edge she was facing towards. She peered over the blanket she was covering her face with, to see Bucky facing her, holding a bag of ice, wrapped in a towel. Bucky’s heart sank at the sight of her glossy eyes and tear stained cheeks in the moonlight.

“For your ribs,” he spoke softly, gesturing to the ice bag in his hands.

“Oh. Thank you.”

Y/N took the bag from him, attempting to slowly sit up. She closed her eyes as she grimaced, and suddenly felt a hand on her back, helping her up. Her eyes opened to reveal Bucky, with a soft smile on his lips. She silently thanked him again, placing the ice bag on the right side of her ribcage.

“Thought you hated me,” she mumbled, keeping her gaze down on her lap. He furrowed his brows, keeping his eyes on her.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Well, you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky paused at her comment, thinking about his next words, before responding.

“I don’t like that you take up all of Steve’s free time,” he grumbled, causing Y/N to quickly look up at Bucky, his eyes averting her gaze. Her face fell, immediately realizing why Bucky had treated her so coldly all this time. He just missed his friend.

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her in response. “I didn’t realize, I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t expecting her to be so kind and understanding, even coming up with multiple points to argue back at her. He realized then that he didn’t know her at all, but that he wanted to now. In an instant, she became an entirely different person. He studied her eyes and wondered if they had always sparkled like that, if her cheeks were naturally rosy, or if her lips had always been so pink and plump.

His expression softened and he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he muttered, tearing himself away from her gaze to look down at his lap. After a moment of silence, Bucky stood up to return back to the floor.

“Stay.” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she had time to process them. Bucky froze and turned to face her. “I mean, if you want to, of course. Just figured the floor must be super uncomfortable for you.” Y/N felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks and kicked herself mentally. She looked down at her hands, regretting the words she spoke, before feeling the bed dip again. She looked up to see Bucky. He smiled and she almost melted at the sight.

She shifted over, putting the ice bag on the nightstand, as Bucky crawled into bed next to her. The two rested on their backs, both staring at the ceiling in silence. Bucky remained at a respectful distance away, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. Y/N turned on her left side, her good side, to face him.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Bucky turned on his side to face her before responding.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

A strand of her hair had fallen in front of her face and Bucky, instinctively, reached out a hand to tuck it behind her ear. Immediately, he regretted it, about to pull his hand back when Y/N took her hand and placed it on top of his, guiding it to rest on her cheek. He cupped her face in his hand and she leaned into his embrace. Bucky felt his heart rate increase as she moved her body closer to his, wrapping the arm she used to hold his hand on her face, across his side. He shifted towards her as well, wrapping his arm around her body, bringing her closer to him.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, nervous that he might have somehow misinterpreted the situation. He hadn’t been with a woman in such an intimate way in years and had no idea what he was doing. Y/N looked up at him and nodded, before snuggling her face into his chest and Bucky felt a wave of calm wash over him.

“Can you stay here tonight?” Y/N mumbled, her face pressed into his chest. He chuckled at the vibrations from her voice and kissed her temple, smoothing her hair back.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to, honey.”

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nolassolace · 2 years ago

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HHHHHHHH

I caved

Fight me

Here's the dumb little nark drabble I wrote at 4 am. I typed it all up on my phone so I really don't care if it's formatted wierd or if there's any punctuation wrong oops?

Might do a small series with it who knows.

But yeah here's one of the ways I see Nicky and Larks first kiss going down.

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Lark realized he may have been in just a little bit deeper than he originally intended with one Nick Close than he had thought.

The two of them grew up together, went through tough shit, nightmares, break ups, experiments, the list goes on. Nicky was a big fan of always throwing out the good old “ Nothing brings people together like shared trauma.” quote always through a crooked grin and a shrug of his shoulders, and you know what? He was right.

After everything, Lark could only go to Sparrow for so much. But Nicky? He could rant about his dad to him for hours on end. That's when this whole mess started, the feelings and all that other bullshit.

They were probably 16 or something. Who cares really? Lark had been ranting non stop going on almost 45 minutes (not that Nick was counting) It was when Lark was having a hard time calming his breathing and Nicky stopped him from pacing, grabbed his shoulders, gave them an affirming squeeze, looked in his eyes and barely above a whisper said “ hey, man, deep breath. You're good, I'm right here.” amber eyes searching into his with concern and reassurance, then a gentle kiss placed to his forehead before the other ruffled his hair and stated light heartedly “ it's gonna be alright song bird.”

As they got older things got a bit more complicated. Nicky started spending more time in the infernal plane, he’d visit every now and then and when he did they would stay up all night talking, laughing, having a few drinks, better judgment stalling things that could ruin a good friendship. Especially when the older of the two would do things like fidget with the brunette's hands or rest his head on his shoulders. Lark liked when Nick would do those things which just made it that much worse. He'd notice how Nick's fingers were always warm and his nails ever so slightly pointed, and his hair always smelled good, even with the addition of the infernal planes smoke.

–

There were a few times that were too close for Larks' comfort honestly. Like when Nick would play with his unruly locks as they watched tv together and fell into comfortable silence. Or when he would teasingly blow smoke in Larks face when they shared a smoke or even worse the way they would perfectly banter with each other through arguments when things got too competitive.

Their first kiss happened in Larks second year of university. They went to some party on campus since Nicky was visiting after who knows how long. Lark decided it was best for his mental health to not keep track ( 63 days). Nick was quick to show his skills in Guitar Hero as soon as he saw the avatar selection screen on the tv in the living room. It didn't take long for him to start beating ass left and right at the game. As bystanders watched in awe, Lark sat nearby sipping on a solo cup tracking the half demon's expression as he played, his heart stuttering at the curve of Nick's smile, the faint glint of canines being ever so slightly too sharp. The way he bounced on his feet when he got too into the song and gave an occasional hop that made his black hair bounce on his shoulders and get in the way of his eyes which always led to him flipping it out of his face. Lark let a fond smile slip when he could see the ever so slightly visible smoke and warmth radiate off his friends fingers on the plastic frets as he tried to suppress his hellish nature.

Nick finished his last round before he let some poor freshman take their turn to try and follow up the show he had put on, he plopped down next to the younger on the worn down couch, stole his cup and chugged whatever was left of the awful college grade concoction. Nick patted his back and noted he was going to go get them refills before standing and taking his leave to the kitchen which before Lark knew it and before his brain could scream at him to stop what he was doing he was following Nicky close behind following the sweet smell of that he carried with him.

Once in the kitchen, solo cups refilled, Nick turned around to face Lark, only a little surprised to see his friend had followed him “ ahh it too loud out there for ya songbird?” his lips curled as he got ready to make some cocky remark about lark missing him after barely 30 seconds, the younger cut him off barely above a whisper of “ Shut it Foster” practically whispering it in to Nicks lips as he closed the distance and gripped the front of the jacket that he'd been gifted by his father. Lark waited to be pushed away, for the older to separate from him and chew him out or just disappear like he had gotten so good at.

But it didn't happen, at least not how he expected.

The ravenette pushed back just the slightest to break the kiss just for the tiniest moment. Amber eyes desperately searching Sage ones trying to find the hints of how this could be a prank or any type of deception, and when he couldn't see any, the faintest glow of blue flickered from Nicks eyes the same shade his horns seemed to give off like the center of a match and he dove back in to the kiss. He snaked his arm behind Larks neck to hold him close and it didn't take long till the cup was spilled down his friends back as they backed up into the pantry in a mess of drunken passion, open mouth kisses, tightening grips on clothes, just barely too warm fingertips brushing across scarred skin and the faintest scent of smoke.

Nick was the one who broke the kiss, panting and touching his lip with his hand after Lark had given a bit of a too confident bite. Maybe it had been too far? And of course only now he would realize this too late and he was absolutely going to beat himself up for it forever now as Nick practically rushed out of the kitchen and back into the fray of the party. Face flushed, his nose and lips the same warm shade of red. He shouldered his way past a few people and made his way to the back yard, opened a stupid portal back home to the infernal plane with his dumb flaming fingers and vanished just like that. Just like he had gotten so good at once they had gotten older. The portal closed and the smell of smoke and Nicks shampoo lingering in the air around Lark, he groaned and rubbed his face with both hands in frustration before punching the door of the pantry and leaving a significant dent in it. It didn't take long for him to grab his jacket and notify Sparrow he was going home.

Nicky didn't come around as much after that.

#nark #nark dndads #lark x nick #nick close #nick foster #nicky freeman #lark oak #lark oak garcia #lark garcia

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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

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not all who wander are lost.

summary. | He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering.

warnings. | Strangers to lovers, smut, naive reader, mentions of trauma, angst, fluff, slight violence, slight dub/con, slight blasphemy, drinking, DD/LG, daddy kink, corruption kink, ring/hand kink, size kink, creampie kink, teasing, spanking, choking, spitting, manhandling, praise, male masturbation, handjob, degradation, a bit of humiliation, oral sex, virginity loss, marking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 11k

pairings. | Daddy!Destroyer!Chris x Little!Reader.

a/n. | one of the few fics inspired/based off of chemtrails over the country club. please heed the warnings and don’t forget to reblog. ily! thank you so much to @dragon-of-dreams @mypoisonedvine @tenuntilfightcall and everyone else for helping me out with some information! and thank you to my bb sara @asadmarveltrashbag for beta-ing and being there for me during this insane month, ilysm!!

The first time he laid eyes on you, was six months ago.

Meadows like the ones that surround him only exist in movies and Instagram posts. But even those need editing for perfection. Yet, the ones around him made him feel as though he has camera lenses for his eyes. Each piece of grass is a beautiful green, and some had flowers between them. His thighs may hurt but the view is a reward for all the trouble he just went through. A cute cottage lies on the hill he stands on. It resembles one from a Pinterest board but he doesn’t mind.

Birds chirp, sheep bleat, cows low and chickens cluck amongst Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of Summertime. Chris walks a few more steps and onto the porch he goes. This isn’t his destination. Well, technically, it is. But he isn’t supposed to be knocking on your door like he is now, and his heart shouldn’t be beating out of his chest. To the right of this cottage — Chris’s right — is another cottage.

It’s more modern than he’d prefer it to be. It only looks so because inside lives a drug lord who is on the run. It’s truly unfortunate his girlfriend sold him out for immunity. He knocks on the wooden door and takes a step back. Who knows what kind of person is behind it. “Coming!” your sweet voice calls. Chris doesn’t let go of his grip on his gun that’s down the waist of his pants.

Even the sweetest seeming things can always end up being sour.

You struggle not to trip over your own dress. The tail of it drags behind you and sweeps the floor, too. But it makes you feel just like a princess, so you don’t care. On your hip is a basket, and inside is Cotton. Your bunny. She’s been your company for years, and you don’t know what you’d do without her. Barely anyone visits anymore, only because cars can’t handle the long drive up and many people hate nature. But when the occasional knock on your door echoes throughout the house, you can barely keep your excitement inside.

You open the door and gasp. The man… is brooding. And he’s not the type of broody that would grumble insults under his breath or the type that would stalk people, either. He’s the dreamy type, the man your parents say is bad news when really he just needs love. You take in his form. You can tell he’s slightly tired and you just have to give him credit for walking up to your home. He has no flaws, except for the dirt that stains his clothing.

“Hi, do you live here?” the strange man asks, looking around the inside of your home. You jump and you’re not sure why but your skin raises with goosebumps. His voice is deep yet so soft-spoken. For some odd reason, his hand is reaching backwards and you assume that it’s because he has some sort of ache from the walk. You finally register his words and look up at him.

“Y- yes, do you live here?” you stupidly ask. You don’t even realize what you just said until you noticed his puzzled look. “Oh, sorry,” you look down and notice that his black boots are covered in pollen, something that can be oh so bothersome. “‘S’alright, I was hiking a- and I don’t have anywhere to go… Do you think you could let me stay here?” he asks, letting go of the gun. “Uhm, s- sure, what’s your name?” you ask him, moving out of the way.

Naive, so fucking naive.

“Chris, what’s yours?” he asks, stepping inside. You give him your name and he nods. He goes to wipe his shoes on the rug in front of the door but there is no rug. You hand him a rag and he gratefully takes him, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ “Are you a tourist?” you ask him, setting your basket down onto the floor. Cotton hops out of it and runs off to the kitchen, probably to chew on your apron. “No…” he solemnly answers. He hands you the rag back and you shyly take it.

“O- okay… Are you a photographer? I’ll tell you God’s truth, the most beautiful photos are taken when the sun rises, when it sets and when it’s raining,” you pointedly inform him. You drop the rag into your basket and turn back around, your dress spinning in a slight swirl. His eyes rake your body up and down, taking in every inch of your body. Red cloth with white polka dots covers your body and your mushroom earrings bring the entire outfit together. Chris has to assume that the heavens above or whatever the fuck else is there have handcrafted you to absolute perfection.

He’s never read any stories about Greek gods, but he knows that Zeus would be absolutely infatuated with you. He takes note of how your body tenses up when he makes eye contact with you, and he gives you a small smile.

“I’m not a photographer,” he clarifies, looking around. He can’t believe you let him in just like that, but the more he found, the more he understood why. A lonely, innocent little girl like you doesn’t have anyone to tell you right from wrong. “Then what are you, sir? Are you lost? I can call the Consulate if you’d like,” you offer, walking towards him. “I’m not lost… I’m a wanderer,” he whispers almost hesitatingly.

“But you only ever wander when you’re lost, no?” you confusingly ask him. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, before peering out of the window. Luckily, he has a direct view of the other cottage. He really did hit the jackpot. “Not all who wander are lost, little girl. Now tell me, why would you let a stranger inside your home?” he asks you.

Cotton hops from the kitchen to your bedroom, and you stand in place. “I… Well, I’m not sure. You didn’t give me any reason to not let you in or to make me believe you’re dangerous, sorry…” you shyly tell him. “Don’t apologize, just know that not everyone in this world is good. There’s always going to be someone with a little more darkness than the rest of us…”

Chris unzips his duffle bag, and you let out a giggle. “Quite ominous of you, but then again, it suits your whole aesthetic. The cool, bearded man, with his cool words,” you smile at him, but it carries a bit of sadness. “Treat this place as your own, make yourself at home. And if you need anything, I’m always here.”

Chris stays at the window for most of his days. Always with a pair of binoculars and a pack of saltine crackers. Sometimes, he pulls a juice bottle out of his duffle bag, You’ve countlessly offered him something that’s actually filling, such as angel cake and sandwiches. He rejects them all, and you wonder if he’s some sort of super-human. But technology hasn’t invented wireless technology yet, so it’s impossible.

“Uhm, Mr. Chris-Sir? I don’t think those crackers are good for you, they’re all you eat…” you sheepishly admit, carrying a cup of water to him. The mug has a little frog painted on it, but the green paint has chipped away over seven years. You set it down gently, onto the table next to him and Chris just stares out at the cottage. “Bird-watching is so cool, isn’t it? If you see a robin, let me know, they’re so beautiful,” you tell him, before walking off.

At first, he doesn’t take in your words. But once they’ve settled deep in his mind and sunk in, he realizes that you assume he’s bird-watching. He’d honestly take any other assumption, but at least you don’t know he’s spying on the criminal next door. He looks down at the table with a sigh and then notices what you’ve done. Not only did you set a cup of water down, but you also gave him two slices of toast. One has strawberry jam on it, and the other has melted butter.

His mouth surprisingly salivates, but it also doesn’t shock him. Every day he sits there, basking in the beautiful smell of your food and humming. His personal favourite is the smell of focaccia bread being baked. He watches and waits until you leave the room to go tend to the chickens. Apparently, one of them laid a few eggs. He quickly shovels the two slices of toast into his mouth and downs the glass of water like a starved man. Because he is one.

Cotton hopes around once again but all Chris sees is a fluffy white blur. He recalls his memories from when he was younger. Younger him always wanted a pet. Even a fish that would die in the span of two weeks would suffice. But his mom couldn’t afford it, so he dropped the idea. Sometimes, he wishes he had dropped other ideas, as well. Like the idea that he’d enjoy life as an undercover agent, or the idea of sacrificing himself for Erin.

His fingers are sticky with jam. He hates the feeling. He spreads his fingers out and goes to get up from his seat. “Shit,” he curses, realizing that something may happen while he’s away from the window. He stands there, contemplating whether or not he should risk his mission just to wash the fucking jam off of his stupid fucking hands. He calls your name, loudly, hoping you’ll hear him all the way outside the cottage.

“Is everything alright?” you shout, running inside the house. He didn’t expect that reaction, but he’ll take it. You’re holding onto the corner of two walls, slightly bent over. Your chest, your beautiful chest, is the first thing Chris lays his eyes on. He nearly chokes on his saliva, and he just can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. “Uh, hi, I need help,” he gruffly says, his voice a bit deeper than usual. He clears his throat with a loud ‘ahem’ and you begin to stand up straight, much to his dismay.

But he doesn’t think the image of your tits nearly falling out of your dress will leave his mind any time soon.

“Of course… Did you enjoy the toast? I can make you some more if you’d like,” you shyly offer him. “It was good, but I’m fine, thanks though. Can you stay here, right at the window, while I go wash my hands? If anything happens, you have to tell me.” Chris doesn’t leave any room for argument, but your curiosity and naivety get the best of you as always.

“What happens if I don’t tell you?” you ask him, walking towards the window. He blocks your path and suddenly personal space is no longer a thing you need. “You don’t want to know what I’m gonna do if you don’t, little girl,” he warns with a hint of lust in his tone. You nod your head and feel tingles bloom just above your core. You’re not sure whether they’re butterflies or those tingles.

Chris walks past you and you quickly rush to the window. You never realized how beautiful this view is until now. The sun is bright, angled in the most perfect manner so that it doesn’t shine directly in your eyes. The sky is so clear, even with the occasional fluffy cloud that always manages to look like some animal. The window blows gently, shaking the sheer curtains that frame you. You sigh and fold your arms, resting them on the windowsill.

You lay your head on your arms and stare out the window with joy filling your heart.

Chris watches you as you look out the window. You’re slightly bent over, once again. Your ass sticks out, and you subconsciously sway your hips side to side, almost purposefully teasing him. Your white dress has a few strings hanging from the hem, but it doesn’t make you look any less gorgeous. He feels like he’s in a dream.

Not only because of the beautiful scenery, and the beautiful woman in front of him but also because he’s trying his hardest to wash his hands quickly, but his movements are so slow. He looks down and rubs his hands together at a furious pace. Chris hears you gasp and he looks up. “Did you see something?” he asks you, turning off the sink.

“Yeah, my neighbour! I haven’t seen him in months, I need to go say hi,” you tell Chris, before rushing out the door. He only then registers your words once you’ve run out of the house and into the unknown. “Fuck- Wait!” he yells after you. He runs behind you and is so grateful when he notices you haven’t gone too far. But you’re still running and Chris’s target is about ten meters away, so he decides to do what he does best.

He decides to save you.

Chris’s feet hit the ground harshly, crushing the flowers beneath him. Running in socks isn’t fun, but at least he has something to protect him. He calls your name and crashes into you with all the force in his body. You both go down and hit the ground from his fierce tackling technique. You go to cry out in pain and lose your mind, but Chris clams his hand over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. You’re not hurt, okay? I’m sorry I had to do that, but you can’t go running off like that,” he lectures, throwing his right leg over your body. He frames you down, and you don’t have much room to move. You’re frozen in place, chest heaving, and you furrow your eyebrows at his words.

“Listen, I need you to listen. You may not know me and I may not know you, but when I tell you to do something, you’re going to listen. Understood?” he chastised with a harsh tone. You nod meekly, like a little kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “And just so you know, that sweet neighbour of yours over there is wanted by the Feds.” Chris looks over his shoulder and doesn’t see the man there anymore, so he begrudgingly climbs off of your body.

You gulp thickly, out of fear and nervousness. Chris doesn’t seem to want to add on to this newfound information, so your anxiety makes work of it. For all you know, your neighbour could be a murderer. Chris senses your nervousness and gives you a pat on the head, almost as if you’re his pet.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of you under him, helpless and with his hand clamped over your mouth is something that gets his blood (and hand) pumping. He helps you up, and you don’t even realize it until he brushes some dandelion seeds out of your hair. “Thank you… and thank you for saving me, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” you shyly speak to him. He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets, finding an old cigarette from before he quit.

“‘S’alright, I just need a few things from you,” he gruffly reassured. “O- Of course, anything for my guest and for the man who saved my life,” you beam with a small giggle punctuating your words. He basks in it, almost as though it’s sunlight over a beach. “Ah, you flatter me. Just tell me about yourself, I’m going to be staying for a while,” he says as he turns around to walk back inside.

A bottle of gin is in Chris’s hands. The colourless yet pale yellow liquid swishes inside its rightful bottle. It’s half full, only because last night, he downed the rest. He hasn’t drunk in a while. Since he got over being left for dead. And that’s only six months ago.

He’s shirtless. Only left in his grey jeans and jewelry. His rings clink against the glass bottle and his bracelets hang a little past his wrist. The gunshot wound on his left side had a faint scar on it. He hates it. Every single time he stares in the mirror, that fucking scar just stares back at him.

His father told him it makes him seem more ‘manly’, but it just feels like a point of weakness. Maybe if he was a little quicker, he would’ve saved that bank teller. He would’ve gotten Silas behind bars. He would’ve been able to be proud of himself.

Chris groans at the memories and spins the cap off of the bottle. It flies somewhere across the room, probably hitting one of the wood walls. He mumbles a ‘fucking hell’ and brings the bottle to his lips. The last time he drank like this was three months ago, and he ended up fucking the bartender.

She was bent over the counter, her tits spilled out of her bra and his cock pummeled into her sloppily.

She ended up kicking him out after they were done.

Chris groans again and sits down on the bed, kicking his legs up. His pants are stained with the pigment of dandelions and grass. The splotchy stains are juxtaposed to the grey of his old jeans. They have wear and tear all over them, but he doesn’t care.

Every now and then, he sighs — he sighs quite deeply. The puffs of air come from deep inside his chest. He tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling, thinking back to earlier today. He smiles to himself, recalling the way you looked so innocent beneath him.

He’s only known you for a few days, and he already has lewd thoughts for you. Fuck. He just can’t help himself, though. Especially with your innocent doe eyes and pretty little dresses. He closes his eyes slowly, using that memory to fuel his much-needed mental images.

You’re beneath him once again, but you’re naked. His hand is wrapped around your throat, and he’s naked too. His cock is slowly driving in and out of you. He’s teasing you. Your pulsating, wet walls hug his fat cock, and you’re both moaning softly.

“Daddy…” you whisper to him, clenching around his cock. “What’s wrong, baby?” he softly asks you. “Please fuck me harder, please, Daddy,” you beg to him, before biting down onto your bottom lip. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take my cock like that, baby,” he shakes his head.

“I can take it, Daddy, I’m your good girl.”

Chris opens his eyes and his right hand has found its way down his boxers. His cock is all swollen and hard, hard as a rock. He places the bottle of gin down on the bedside table and gets himself all comfortable. Chris slowly begins to stroke himself gently. He goes from the base all the way to the top, and then back down. His thumb occasionally swipes against his leaking tip and all he can think of is teaching you how to make him — your Daddy — feel good.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans, feeling a vein throat against his hand. He moans your name and speeds up his movements. His fingers are slightly sticky, but it’s the type of sticky he doesn’t mind. He begins to slow his hand down, and he sighs, not wanting to come just yet. He hasn’t been this hard in ages, and touching himself feels so fucking good.

“Did you say my name? Is everything alright?” you ask, barging into his room. He jumps and his hand flies out of his pants. You both stare at each other, not even daring to blink. You eventually break eye contact and notice the bottle of gin sitting on the bedside table. There’s only a sixth of it left, and you frown. You don’t like it when people you care about drink. “Uhm…” he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and then takes in your form.

You’re in a nightgown, and it’s sheer as fuck. The gin gets to him and his mind has a slight buzz to it. His heart beats rapidly and his cock throbs with want and need. Chris’s eyes rake up and down your body like how they usually do whenever you’re in front of him. His mother would scold him for ogling at you, but he just doesn’t care anymore.

“I- I am so so so sorry, I should’ve knocked. I just thought you needed help with something because I heard you say my name, but sometimes I just tend to hear random things, so sorry,” you apologize in a panicking manner. You slowly walk back to the door, but you don’t turn around. Your bare feet leave a faint imprint on the floor from the cold sweats that have taken over your body.

“Come back here,” he orders, sitting up on the bed. Chris’s unbuckled belt clanks quietly, and he begins to remove it in one quick motion. You gulp thickly and exhale shakily. You slowly walk to where Chris is sitting, and he pats the spot next to him. You’ve never had such an interaction with anyone, ever. You sit down next to him, but you keep your distance.

Alcohol should not be called alcohol in Chris’s utmost humble opinion. No, it should just stick to its nickname ‘liquid courage’ because it’s more accurate than anything else. He may not seem like it, but he’s just a man who doesn’t have the heart to do much. Adrenaline doesn’t exist for him anymore, not since the incident.

Chris turns his head and stares at your pretty face. You look down, unable to make eye contact with such a God-like man. You have to assume that even Apollo is envious of Chris’s beauty. “How’d you hear me? Because I know these walls aren’t thin enough, and I know I wasn’t being loud, so tell me; How’d you hear me?” he interrogates you like one of Silas’s companions, but this time is slightly different.

Lust is what’s pumping through his veins, not rage.

“Uhm, well… My room was right there, and I wasn’t doing anything but thinking, and since your bed is against the wall, I- I heard you say my name,” you explain shyly. He hums, and you’re not sure whether it’s a hum of delight or disbelief. “Thinking of what?” he presses, inching his body closer to yours.

You continue to stare at his hand, even though you can feel his heavy breathing against your face. “I… Well- I was uh,” you stutter embarrassingly, and it makes you burn up with shame. “Spit it out, little girl, and don’t think of lying to me,” he growls, placing his hand on your thigh. Your gaze follows his movements, and you take in the set of rings that adorn his fingers.

They’re all black and of similar styles. One has a skull, one is completely plain, one has a cross on it and the last one has the word ‘Daddy’ engraved on it. His veins are so prominent. They bulge out with intensity, and you’d just love to trail your fingers along each of them. “Am I going to have to force an answer out of you?” he roughly asks. His other hand goes to the back of your head and he brings your gaze to his face.

You quickly shake your head in objection, and he raises his eyebrows for you to spit your answer out. “I was thinking about you, and the way you tackled me…” you admit to him in a low and soft voice. “You liked the way I was on you, little girl?” he asks, moving his hand to the back of your neck. “Y- Yeah, made me feel all… Tingly…” you whisper to him.

“I want to hear you say it, little girl,” Chris ushers, squeezing the back of your neck slightly. “I liked the way you were on top of me…” you tell him breathlessly. “Good girl,” he praises in a slightly deep voice. He pulls you onto his lap and you gasp. His hard, wanting cock is right under your thighs, and you exhale nervously.

“You feel that, little girl? That’s all because of you, you did this to me. And you’re proud of it, aren’t you? Got me so fucking hard just because of you.” Chris squeezes your waist, and you really can feel it all. He’s not wrong, either. You’re so proud that you’ve made a man like him so desperate for you. “Do you know what I was doing, little girl? I was jerking off to the thought of fucking that cunny of yours until you’re begging me to stop,” he growls in your ear.

You moan softly, and the picture comes to mind, making your pussy gush with want. “Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You nod, and he raises his eyebrows in warning again. “Yeah, I want that so bad,” you murmur to him. You and your pussy want him so bad. Chris’s hand inches further up your thighs until he’s just an inch away from your bare pussy.

Your thighs are already slightly sticky from your arousal. “Do you know what jerking off is, little girl?” he asks, pulling his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a pathetic, child-like whine, and he begins to lift up your nightgown until he sees your naked body. “Kind of… Isn’t that when a man touches himself? Like how women touch their… down there?” you innocently ask him.

Chris chuckles at how cute you are. So innocent yet oh so slutty. “Have you ever touched yourself, little girl?” he asks, lifting the nightgown over your head. It’s strewn across the floor behind you, and neither of you cares. But you quickly use your hands to cover your most precious, most private parts. “No, no, I don’t want to see any of that. You’re so beautiful, baby, you’re built like an absolute angel,” he husks, and you feel so flustered that you can’t help but giggle.

“T- Thank you… And I’ve done it a few times,” you inform him. Chris nods and smirks, catching the way your nipples have pebbled up. “Have you ever made someone feel good before?” he questions, trailing his broad hands up and down your body. “N- No, it’s pretty lonely up here…” you almost-ashamedly admit. He coos at you. “Do you want me to teach you how to make me feel good, little girl?” he questions, palming your tits.

You moan softly and rub your thighs together as he pinches and pulls at your hard nipples. You’re so small in his large hands, it makes him even harder. You nod your head fervently, wanting to make Chris feel so fucking good. Chris takes his hands away from your body and shifts you in his lap. He reaches down his pants and pulls his cock out of his boxers.

You gasp, having never seen something as big as that. He smirks and uses his right hand to grasp the base of his thick cock. Chris brings your dominant hand down to where his cock is and guides you to wrap your fingers around him. Chris shudders at your soft touch, and he moans softly. “Good girl, yeah,” he praises. “Wrap your hand around me a bit tighter, baby,” he urges, and you do exactly that.

He groans loudly and a small smile stretches across your lips. “N- Now, you’ve got to move your hand up and down. Start off slowly, go all the way to the tip, and then back down,” he instructs, even though he’s helping you out. His hand brings yours all the way to the tip, and then back down; just like he said. His hand leaves yours and goes back to feeling up your pretty body.

“Now do it by yourself, but in a twisting motion, little girl.”

You listen to his words and jerk him off, feeling yourself get wet as his cock twitches in your hand. Your clit throbs and so do the veins on the side of his shaft. Chris curses, and you bite down on your bottom lip. “Good girl, just like that. Fuck, your hand feels so good around me,” he moans, squeezing your waist. You focus on his cock, watching as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down the side of his dick.

It drips onto your slow-moving hand, and you exhale as your movements grow a bit faster. You look at him, watching as his pupils darken with lust. You can tell — it’s written on his face — he wants you to go faster. Your hand speeds up around his cock, making him a moaning mess. “Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. You like making me feel good, don’t you? So eager to please like the good little girl you are,” Chris husks.

His praise goes straight to your needy cunt and he knows this because he can just tell. Your thighs rub together, your breath hitches, you let out a giggle and squeeze a little tighter around his cock. Chris’s hand goes up to your head and smashes your lips against his. You both moan into the kiss, and you straddle both his thighs to get more comfortable.

You place your other hand on his cock and mimic your dominant hand’s movements. You try to keep up with the kiss, but you just can’t. Teeth clash and so do tongues as Chris moves his mouth against yours. He pants and his chest heaves as you continue to stroke him. “Go faster, baby,” he urges, and he pulls his mouth away from yours. He can feel you soaking his jeans, your wetness joining the abundant amount of rips and tears in the material.

Your hand moves faster, twisting perfectly and occasionally squeezing his most sensitive spots as well. Chris pushes your hands away abruptly, and you’re confused. Did you do something wrong? Does he not like you anymore? What happened? “Shit, wrap your mouth around the tip, little girl. Trust me, you’re gonna fucking love it,” he says, and you quickly do so.

You’ll do anything to please him. His mushroom tip is leaking and a raging red. It’s the same red as the rest of his cock, and you could swear it’s almost purplish. You can tell he’s aching because you’ve been through a similar thing. You drop down to the floor and kneel in front of Chris. Your lips smooth around the tip of his hard cock, and you can taste him as soon as he hits your tongue.

He tastes of musk and manliness, along with a hint of saltiness, and it’s oh so addicting. You keep the tip of his cock in your mouth like it’s one of your favourite lollipops and smile around him. Chris smiles and wraps his hand around himself. He jerks himself off quickly, desperate to come in your mouth. “Fucking shit– god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” Chris rasps as he reaches his climax.,

His balls tighten up and his blue eyes roll back into his skull. White, hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his tip and fill your mouth. You’re not sure why, but a moan escapes past your throat, and it only makes Chris’s high much better. Chris places both hands on the sides of your head and holds you there, gently. You swallow all his cum as it fills your mouth and leaks from the corners of your lips.

Chris so desperately wants to push your head farther down his cock, but he knows he shouldn’t. Plus, there’s always going to be more time for things like that. He pulls your head away from his cock and watches as a string of saliva tries to keep the two of you connected. You gently lick your lips, still savouring his taste and he smiles down at you. You can’t lie — you feel giddy. Giddy in a way in which you crave his praise and approval like no other.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Thank you for helping me out… I do suppose I should return the favour, right?” he teasingly says, lifting you up into his lap. You shake your head out of nervousness. “No? … Why not, baby?” Chris asks, and you gulp thickly. “Don’t wanna rush it… I- never mind, you wouldn’t understand,” you look down and fiddle with your fingers.

The grooves of your nails are smoothed over by your pointer finger. Some dips and rises make you cringe, and others satisfy you. He looks down at your hands and notices the skin picked on the sides. He knows how painful those can be, and he doesn’t want you to feel any pain at all. “I’ll try to understand, darling, but if you don’t tell me, then I’ll be completely clueless,” he speaks to you lowly. “I like the way your words make me feel…” you shyly admit to him.

“Aw, how do they make you feel, baby?” Chris presses, grasping your two hands together. “All warm and small… makes me feel like I have it all. Hey, that rhymes!” you exclaim, bubbling in the utmost adorable giggles ever. “You’re a natural poet, darling. But tell me more…” he urges, rubbing his coarse thumbs against your soft skin. “I get butterflies, and I feel all shy and safe. Your words make me so comfortable yet so vulnerable…” you describe to him even though words can’t describe what you feel.

“Is that right, baby? You’re so cute… Do you- Do you get all tingly and babyish when I use my words?” Chris hesitatingly asks. His voice is so gentle and soft, a low whisper that is so soothing to your ears and rough edges. You nod meekly and smile to yourself. Your cheeks may hurt from all the laughter he caused earlier today but that doesn’t refrain you from hiding your smile.

Now, Chris is no doctor. He’s no professional, he’s no master. He’s just a broken man, but he knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he won’t explain what it is, because he needs you to learn on your own. Maybe with some guidance from him, but he won’t trick you into thinking something completely off base.

“Let’s get cleaned up, okay? Then we’ll sleep, you need the rest. We both do.”

He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering. But he isn’t. He was never. The stick-and-poke tattoo may seem a bit much, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. Your name is written in your pretty handwriting. The ink is in his skin, and he’s practically marked as yours, now.

The days go by slower, much slower than he’d like them to. But it doesn’t matter now, because his mission is over, and he’ll be leaving soon. But Chris doesn’t want to leave. His wanderlust has found an end as he finally has a place where he’s meant to be. He’s found heaven in the hills, and between your legs.

“D- Daddy…” you whisper under your breath, loud enough for him to hear. Your hands are locked with his, and they rest at your sides. You’re just in a small bralette, and your hard nipples poke through the fabric. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and your ankles lace together behind his head. Your neck aches from the angle your body is in, but the pleasure blooming from your core is much more powerful.

Chris is between your legs, and he hums against your wet, throbbing pussy. You moan loudly and squeeze your eyes shut from the feeling. He sucks on your clit harshly, and wetness seeps from your hole. “Feels so good… Oh, my…” you pant. Your hips gyrate and you subconsciously grind your wet cunt against Chris’s face. He pulls his face away from your pussy and licks a broad stripe against you.

You moan again and squeeze his hands tighter. His tongue swirls around your swollen and throbbing clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your taste is addictive, and he could stay between your legs for hours on end, if not for eternities. His beautiful, lovely rings dig into the sides of your fingers, but you don’t care. Chris may treat you like a delicate doll, but he should know how much you love it when he’s rough with you.

“I think I’m gonna come, Daddy…” you cry out to him before a strangled moan leaves your mouth. Chris pulls away from your pussy once again, but this time he spits on your lips. His saliva drops down your cunt and mixes with your wetness, and he goes back to devouring you. He eats you out like a starved man, and you’re squealing at the overwhelming pleasure.

If he was on death row, he’d have your sweet pussy as his last meal.

His tongue works over your clit and brings you closer and closer to your release. It’s coming fast. A searing, heated feeling takes over your body and abdomen as your back arches off your couch. Chris is as hard as a rock, staring you directly in the eyes, and he makes you come on his mouth.

“Oh- Daddy!” you cry out loudly, your mouth falling open into a silent, voiceless scream. Your eyes roll back into your skull and in Chris’s past words, you look like a brain-dead slut. Your wetness gushes out of your drooling hole, and he laps it all up with no problem. He drinks up everything you give him, and then some. Your hands are still laced with his and your chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

“Shh… You did amazing, little one. Taste so fucking sweet, just like nectar,” he hums like a hummingbird, before smacking his lips. You slowly come down from your high as he strokes your hands with his thumbs. Your lids are slightly heavy, but you don’t want to get any shut-eye. Time away from Chris is practically a sin in your eyes. “Thank you, Daddy,” you gratefully reply.

“You’re welcome, little one. Got me so hard,” he husks as he moves to get up. He carefully handles your body and pulls out a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. They’ve been washed and scrubbed but there are still faint dandelion and pollen stains that he just doesn’t care enough about. Though the adorable face you were making whilst washing them is something that’ll never leave his mind.

Just like the mental image of you coming undone beneath him.

“Can I make you feel good, Daddy? Pretty please?” you ask sweetly and Chris knows he could say yes, but he doesn’t want to. Making you feel good pleases him, but he doesn’t want to sound so poetic so he chuckles. “Soon, little one, I need to clean you up properly,” he tells you and you jut your bottom lip out, pouting. He coos at you and you scrunch your nose up at the attention.

“But I’m all clean, Daddy!” you reason, reaching over to palm his hard cock through his jeans. Chris chokes on his saliva at the feeling of your touch. “In a bit, little one, you need to listen to Daddy. Okay?” he rasps with a warning in his voice. “Okay, Dada…” you trail off with a deep sigh punctuating your sentence. You fiddle with your fingers as Chris carefully cleans up your pussy.

The damp washcloth is gentle against your sensitive skin. Each movement of his is carried by gentleness and love. “I have a question, Daddy,” you hum after a few seconds of silence. “Go ahead, mushy one,” he says with a smile. You giggle at the nickname before calming yourself down. “Were you really wandering?” you bluntly ask him. Chris’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, and you gasp.

“What do you mean, little one?” he asks, looking up at you. “Well… You said you were a wanderer! And that’s how you found me! But you don’t seem like a wanderer, you’re too clever to be one,” you explain with a smile on your face. Chris begins to chew on the inside of his cheek, and the skin has already been filled with bite marks and scars. At this point, he should tell you, right? You already know the deepest, most darkest pieces and part of him.

You’ll love him no matter what.

“Well, I wasn’t wandering. You’re so smart, little one. The smartest baby in the world!” he cheers and moves to get up. He sits in the empty spot next to you and lifts you into his lap. You’re still naked and Chris has his shirt off (as usual), so the skin-on-skin contact has you feeling even sleepier. “Sometimes, we lie to protect people. I lied, to protect you, along with many other people. Myself included, of course,” he starts.

“I was sent here with the sole purpose of bringing in your criminal neighbour,” he pauses “and I did.” You nod along with his words, your mind only allowing the most important phrases to sink in. “I arrested him around a month ago, and I was supposed to leave three weeks ago,” he sadly sighs. You look up in a panic, and you’re in shock. “Two weeks ago, I turned in my resignation. I’m not going anywhere,” he quickly adds and your face lights up.

“I’m staying with my best girl, okay?” Chris smiles and leans in to kiss you. You let him do so because God-damn, you’d let him do anything he wants to you. “T- Thank you so much, Daddy!” you squeal and hug him tightly. He laughs in a beautiful cacophony of sounds, and it’s right in your ear.

Chris feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders as you writhe around in his arms. You wiggle around on his hard cock and Chris suppresses a groan. His hands trail from your shoulders to your waist, down to your hips. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and excitement runs in your veins at his touch. Your head rolls back and you exhale shakily. He grips your hips tightly, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his crotch.

Both you and Chris moan before he moves both his hands to your ass. He gropes you roughly, feeling a bit of your wetness on his fingers. “Oh, baby… What’s all that for? Hm? Didn’t Daddy just eat your sweet little pussy out?” he asks in a slightly worried tone. “Y- Yeah… But I can’t help it, Daddy, you always make me so tingly…” you admit to him, shyly.

“Mmm, I like knowing I do this to you. Gets me so fucking hard,” he groans, slapping your ass. You yelp in surprise, but it gets cut off by a whimper. Chris caresses the hit skin and soothes you down from the shock. He smiles at you and then lands another hit. Then another, and then another.

The sting is addictive, just like he is. It leaves you writhing in both pain and pleasure and yet you still want more. “M- more, please,” you quietly beg and Chris coos at you as if you're a pet. And the truth isn’t far off. The coolness of his rings is both brutal and comforting. It soothes you yet acts as if they didn’t just hurt you. “You want more, baby?” he asks in that sweet yet sultry condescending tone of his.

You nod your head and chew on your bottom lip. “‘S too bad you’re gonna have to take what I give you and keep quiet, baby,” he husks, and you whine loudly. Chris flips your bodies around and suddenly you’re on your back, and he’s leaning over you. He locks lips with you and you try your hardest to keep up with the kiss.

His lips move sloppily against yours, but you don’t mind because you’ll take anything he gives you. You moan into true kiss and Chris wedges his knee between your legs. You’d hump him like a bunny because that’s what the demon on your shoulder is telling you to do. But the last time you did something without his permission, you weren’t allowed to make him come for a week.

You just know you’re soaking his jeans but neither of you cares. Chris kisses the corner of your mouth and trails down to your neck, peppering kisses behind as if he’s leaving a trail on your body for when he’s going to explore you later. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw tickles you and Chris falls even more in love with you as your laughter fills the air.

“D- Dada…” you whisper to him as you tilt your head back. His lips land on that sweet spot of yours and your back arches off the couch. Chris smiles against your skin and begins to suck on that sweet spot. Your breath hitches as he bites, licks and sucks on your skin. He marks you up like no other, and you know how much he loves to know that you’re all his.

“Dada… No teasing, please,” you sweetly ask in your soft tone. And how can he turn you down? “In a bit, little girl, be patient for Daddy.” Chris continues to mark you up until he’s satisfied. The feeling of his teeth against your neck and collar bones makes you even wetter than you already are. Possessiveness is carried in his movements, and it only drives you to be needier.

Chris moves further down from your collar bones to the valley of your breasts. Each curve of yours makes him want to sin without any repentance afterwards. He places a kiss there and then looks up at you. “Please, Daddy,” you whisper so quietly it takes him a few seconds to realize what you’ve said. Chris’s hand wraps around your body to your back.

He slowly unclasps your bralette and drags it away from your body at the same pace. You both maintain eye contact all whilst he undresses you to your vulnerability. Chris throws your bra somewhere behind him and places his hands on your body. “Aw, baby… You’re so cute and small,” he sweetly says in an almost shocking manner. Almost as if he doesn't use the size difference as a weapon to make you all soft and mushy.

“Hm, thank you, Daddy,” you tell him because good girls always have manners. “So good, using your manners for Daddy,” he praises, and you wonder if he can read your mind. Your Daddy can do anything, so it would be no surprise if he can. Chris sits upon his knees, but he remains in his towering position. Gently, and with care, he spreads your legs open until he’s satisfied.

He watches as you clench your needy pussy. He just knows your clit is throbbing, and you’re tingly because he just has that effect on you. “Poor baby… Is this all for Daddy?” he asks, and you quickly nod. “Say it, tell me it’s all because of me,” he growls placing his hands on your thighs. Chris slowly moves his hands further down your thighs. His touch is gentle, and he can feel the goosebumps on your thighs beginning to raise.

“‘S all yours, daddy. It’s all because of you,” you tell him breathlessly. “And this pussy is all mine, isn’t it, little girl?” he asks, inching closer to your wet pussy. “Mhm, only yours, Daddy!” you happily assure him, and he smirks at you. “That’s right, little girl. And since it’s all mine, doesn’t that mean I can do whatever I want with it?” he questions, and you nod with no hesitance at all.

Chris traces your wet pussy with his ring-donned pointer finger. “Oh my…” you gasp at the feeling. It may not be much, but your sensitive little pussy struggles to handle it. You clench around nothing again, and he watches, before chuckling at you. “Such a pretty pussy you have, baby, I can’t fucking wait to ruin it,” Chris growls, and you whimper. “Gonna fill you up with my cum after I fuck you, little girl,” he promises, and you never wanted to be fucked so badly until now.

He wonders if his cock could even fit inside you. Usually, he’d want to eat you out and finger you to prepare you. But he’s now thinking with what’s between his legs, and not what’s between his ears. He trails that same pointer finger on your pussy, and becomes mesmerized with the sight. Chris watches as your hole drools with want and need, whilst you watch him.

His already dark eyes are blown out with lust, and it only turns you on even more. Chris knows you’re watching him. He’s not one of the best agents in the FBI for no reason. He looks up at you, and you lock eyes with each other. He smirks and pulls his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a whine, but you still pout in disappointment. Chris begins to unbuckle his pants, and you’re filled with eagerness.

You smile widely, and he coos. “Aw, you’re such a desperate little slut, it’s adorable,” he chuckles, and you shy away. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers slowly. Chris takes off his jeans and boxers completely, and throws them somewhere around the house. You watch as his cock bounces up and leaks with pre-cum. You just know he’s aching because of how red his cock is.

He’s big, and you already know that. But seeing him in all his naked glory is just something else. The simple yet not so simple idea of Chris’s cock being inside of you is electrifying. It’s both terrifying and exciting. He grabs the base of his cock and the prickly hair pokes the soft skin of his hands, but he doesn’t care. His left hand goes back to your pussy, and begins to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh… Daddy,” you moan quietly. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, so you involuntarily try to shut your legs and keep Chris out. Your knees touch for a brief moment, and he’s having none of that. He separates your legs and climbs on top of you, all while staring you directly in the eyes. His cock drags against your inner thigh. “Oh, is it too much for you, little one?” he asks with faux pity in his tone. You nod and clench your fists to control yourself.

“Too fucking bad, you’re gonna take whatever I give you, and you’re not gonna complain. Isn’t that right, little girl?” he sneers, and you gasp. Usually, you can’t handle someone who raises their voice in the slightest. But hearing Chris do it makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. “Yes, Daddy,” you hum delightfully, and he smiles. “Good girl,” he praises. Chris presses harder on your sensitive pearl of nerves and rubs you in faster circles.

“Daddy…” You moan and it goes straight to his cock. He looks up at you and just knows you’re beginning to drive up that cliff. He slows down his ministrations on your nub, and you bite back a loud whine. “You’re so needy, baby… Already so close to coming, it’s kind of pathetic…” he trails off and more wetness leaks out of you. You’re absolutely soaked and are a little bit ashamed of it.

“Please, Daddy! I’m so close, I’ll do anything,” you beg, but he just doesn’t buy it. “You’ll already do anything I tell you, baby, begging is so useless,” Chris chortles. You let out a small huff and move your hips in a circle, grinding against his thumb. In a flash of blurry moments, Chris pulls his hand away from your pussy and wraps around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, and you gasp quite loudly.

He raises his eyebrow in warning, and you nod in understanding. “Good girl, I don’t want to put you over my knee when I’m feeling so gracious,” he assures, and you smile. Chris brings the tip of his cock to your swollen, needy clit and his pre-cum begins to mix with your wetness. You both moan softly as he rubs his tip on your clit. Your bottom lip finds a home between your teeth and Chris’s tongue swipes over his.

The sight and feeling of his cock on your silky pussy make him so weak in the knees. “Fuck, baby, do you like that? You like it when Daddy makes you feel good with his cock?” Chris asks in a deep, gravelly voice. “Yeah, Daddy… love it so much…” you tell him through a mushy haze of pleasure.

“You’re getting all dumb and stupid already? You’re so cute, little one,” he purrs, and you giggle at his words even though there’s nothing funny about them. “Do you want my cock, little baby? Say it, tell Daddy you want his cock,” he urges, and you look down to where you’re both nearly connected.

“I wan’ your cock, Daddy. Want it so bad, I need it, Daddy,” you beg, and Chris hums. “Just a little more, little girl, it’s like music to my ears,” he smirks, and you bite your bottom lip. “Sing for me, hummingbird,” he pushes, and you just go with whatever your neediness tells you to do.

“I wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy. I want your cum to fill me up until I’m leaking and all stupid. Please, Daddy, please fuck me. I really want your cock, I need it,” you beg and blood rushes to his face and cock. “Fuck, yeah, I’ll give you my fucking cock, and you better take it like the good girl you are,” he growls, and you whimper. Chris slowly drags the fat tip of his shaft down to your drooling, slutty hole.

You whimper loudly, and he looks back at you. Fear is written all over that pretty face of yours, and Chris knows the exact reason why. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be gentle, okay? If you want to stop just say so, and I’ll listen. I won’t hurt you, darling. I promise,” he gently reassures you. You sigh with an almost heavy yet full heart.

You then nod and Chris thanks you for allowing him to fully make you his. “Wanna hold your hand, Dada… Please,” you ask pleasantly, and he nods. “In a bit, little girl, I just need to be careful,” he whispers. Chris slowly begins to push into your wet, tight cunt. You swallow him slowly, and the sight is mesmerizing.

The tightness of your cunt squeezes him in a strong hug, and he wishes he could be buried deep inside you for the rest of his life. “Fuck- Baby, you feeling so fucking good,” he moans while trying to compose himself. You’re still whimpering from the pain, and your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace.

“C- Can I push all the way in, little one? It’ll only hurt for a bit,” he asks, and he looks deep into your eyes. “Mhm… Wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy, please,” you beg, and Chris tries his hardest not to come right here, right now. He thrusts his hips forward, and bottoms out inside you completely.

Your mouth falls open, and you’re silently screaming. The pain isn’t too much, but you feel as though the wind is being knocked out of you. Chris shifts a bit, and that’s when you start to feel it more. He’s so deep inside you, and he’s splitting you in two. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” he says.

You realize you’re holding your breath and it’s no wonder why your heart was beating out of your chest. “You’re doing so- so well, darling. Your little cunny looks so nice when it’s stuffed full with my cock,” he groans, and you whimper. “Dada, is hurtin’...” you whisper, and Chris wants to pull out because he can’t stand the thought of his little girl being hurt.

“Do you want me to stop, little one?” he asks, but you quickly shake your head in objection. Even though the pressure in your core is dwindling, and even though you feel a little too full, you don’t want him to stop. “No stopping, Daddy, please,” you whine and flail your arms towards him. He shushes you soothingly, and you calm down as soon as he flashes a stern look.

The pain soon burns away into nothing but dust and ash, and you finally see why he was so desperate to shove his cock inside of your cunt. It turns into pleasure and your pussy leaks around him. You’re soaking Chris’s cock with no shame at all. “Oh, fuck, baby… You feel so fucking good,” he moans, and you follow with a gasp. “I like the way y- you feel inside me, Daddy, makes me all tingly…” you admit shyly, and Chris chuckles.

“Yeah? Bet it makes you want to be fucked stupid, right, baby?” he questions with a playful smirk on his face. “Yes, Daddy,” you moan. You’re never aware of your surroundings because you’re too caught up in the moments. It’s something Chris scolds you for, but you never learn. But in this moment, you can feel everything. The veins on his cock throb against your silky walls, and you can feel his balls against your ass. His hot breath fans over you as Chris struggles to compose himself.

He slowly drags his hips backwards, pulling out of your pussy until his tip is the only thing in your cunt. The sudden almost-emptiness is surprising, but you quickly get used to it. Chris then pushes back into your pussy, and you moan loudly. “Fucking hell, little one,” he curses under his breath as he bottoms out again. He begins to fuck into you slowly and gently, careful to not hurt you. Even if he wants to fuck you until you’re crying.

The sound of skin on skin is quiet and almost unintelligible. The squelching sounds from your wet pussy and moans fill the room. Chris gently grips your hips and watches as your face contorts into a frown of pleasure and not pain. “Daddy…” you pant softly as you look up at Chris. “Yeah, baby? Am I hurting you?” he asks out of worry. “N-No, it feels so good…” you trail off as one particular thrust lands near your g-spot. And he knows that.

“Wan’ you to fuck me hard, wan’ you to destroy me, Daddy. Please fuck me like the slut I am…” you gently beg and Chris halts his thrusts. His cock twitches inside of you because of your words. Only he can corrupt an innocent angel such as yourself. “Shit- Little one, I don’t want to hurt you, that’s why I’m being so gentle,” Chris explains, but you shake your head. “You could never hurt me, Daddy. Please, I need you,” you beg for one last time, unaware of what you’ve done to him.

Chris roughly pushes his cock back into your cunt without warning. “Awe, I see. My little princess wants to be fucked like the whore she is, hm? Well, whatever princess wants, she gets,” he growls because beginning to fuck you roughly. You moan loudly at the feeling as with each thrust, his cock pummels against your sweet spot roughly. His pelvic bone rubs against your swollen clit and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Daddy!” you cry out as Chris pounds into your poor pussy. The room fills with moans, groans, curse words and wet sounds that all come from the art you two are making. “Aw, what’s wrong, little girl? Can’t take daddy’s cock anymore? Hm? Well, I don’t really give a fuck, you’re just gonna lie there, and take what I give you like a good fucking girl,” he sneers, and you push at his chest.

“It’s so sensitive!” you wail like a little bitch in heat. “But I bet you don’t want me to stop, do you?” Chris asks as a moan bleeds past his plump lips. “Uh-uh, please don’t stop, Daddy!” you squeal after a harsh thrust. The stretch of Chris’s cock is amazing, and you never want the feeling to stop. Chris’s hand leaves your hip and crawls all the way up to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat, and squeezes the sides, making you clench tightly around his big, thick cock.

He lowers his face to yours and watches as you react to the way he’s being rough with you. “Oh, God!” you cry out as he makes his thrusts more powerful. “Actually, it’s just ‘Daddy’, but I’m fine with that too,” he slyly smirks. You’re too fucked out to even laugh at his joke. Your eyes roll back into your skull and your back begins to arch off of the couch. “Awe, are you gonna come around my big fat cock already, slut? How cute,” Chris mocks.

You nod your head and begin babbling like a baby. “But remember, little girl, I have to give you permission to come, okay?” he reminds you, and you whine. Chris’s hand around your throat moves up to grab your jaw, and he stops thrusting into you. “None of that is allowed. Don’t forget your place, little girl,” Chris warns with fury seething through his words. You mumble an apology, trying to formulate the proper words to speak.

“Seems like I really did fuck you stupid,” he chuckles, and you moan at his words. You clamp down on his cock, tempting him to do what you want, like a siren using her voice to lure men into the sea. “Open your mouth up first, little girl,” he orders, and you obediently listen. The searing arousal in your core begins to fade away, and you feel a panic beginning to rise inside you.

Chris drags his hand back down to your throat and rests it there. You watch as he puckers his lips up, and suddenly, he spits into your mouth. You open your mouth even wider and stretch your tongue out. His saliva lands directly on your tongue, and you wait for further instructions before you give in to your desires.

“Swallow it, little girl,” he instructs, and you do exactly so. You open your mouth back up just to earn some praise. “Good fucking girl. The best baby ever,” he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Daddy! … Can I have cummies now?” you lovingly ask your Daddy.

“Of course, little one,” he says as he smiles down at you. Chris begins to fuck into you again, deep and hard. With each thrust, he pounds your g-spot and his balls slap against your ass. His remaining hand on your hip moves down to your clit, rubbing your little button with rough circles.

“Daddy… ‘m gonna come!” you moan loudly and Chris fucks you harder. “Come one, baby, come all over my big cock like the good girl you are,” he urges. The building feeling inside you increases, and you feel yourself getting closer to your release. “Fucking come, little girl, wanna hear you sing for me,” he growls. And with one specific thrust, you find yourself coming undone beneath him.

The sight is so fucking beautiful. Watching you as your eyes turn up, your mouth falls open and your cunt hugging his cock just gets him going, and he wishes he could take a picture of you right now. “D- Daddy! Oh, my-” You cut yourself off with a loud moan and Chris keeps on rubbing your clit and fucking you through your orgasm.

You soak his cock until it’s dripping and even then you’re still coming. You moan loudly and Chris can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm. His balls begin to tighten up and a droplet of sweat drips from his neck down to his chest. “Daddy, are you gonna come?” you sweetly ask as he fucks you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own.

“Yeah, baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up with his cum. I’m gonna leave you leaking with my seed,” Chris growls as he fucks you faster. “Please, Daddy… Please, I want your cum so badly! Please fill me up with your cum, Daddy,” you beg and Chris tosses his head back.

“Fuck, yes, yes yes,” he shouts as his balls tighten up again. He quickens his pace until white, hot, thick ropes of cum spurts out from his aching tip. He fulfills his promise and your wish, filling you up with his cum until there’s nothing left. His cum mixes with your juices as he paints your walls with no expertise whatsoever. Chris slumps on top of your body, engulfing you in a bear hug as his cock remains buried inside of you.

You’re both panting and struggling to come down from the euphoric feelings. You look up at Chris make lock eyes with him for the nth time. There’ll never be a day where you don’t get lost in his eyes. They’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful. “You did so fucking good, little one,” he praises, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Thank you very, very much, Daddy,” you slur, feeling yourself beginning to sleep into little space. “Daddy?” you call out, tapping his bicep after a few seconds. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, lifting himself up to get a better view of your face. “Will you really stay?” you ask with a bit of worry in your voice. He sighs with a full heart.

“Always.”

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stormcrow513 · 2 years ago

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Hagging Out- Semtember 2022- Hand Baskets

@graveyarddirt

So as some of you know this month went off the rails on me almost immediately, with my cat Shy passing on the 8th, which is the day after my oldest sister who died birthday, and also childhood trauma, September fucking sucks for me already, so I tried my best to occupy myself with #haggingout but well this probably won't be my best entry just heads up going in, also I wanted to do a separate Autumn Equanox post but lost the spoons so I'm Hulk smashing em together hope that's alright Dirty

It was appropriately overcast on the Equinox this year, also check out my nails I've never had em this long before (I chewer) and this weeks the fist time I've painted em since I was like fourteen! Having em long was helping me detangle Shys fur, she also liked me runing em across her head, so I was motivated to not chew, I couldn't cut em or chew em right after she died so the other day I decided to paint em for spooky season, funnily the last time I painted they were probably black to,

I didn't do to much for the Autumn Equinox this year I was having a pretty bad brain day so I did offerings to the land, to the Horae (the seasons), to the Anemoi(the winds) asking for a wet winter, they've been to dry lately, and thanking them for the harvest I got/am getting,

that loaded backwards, but fuck it you get the idea, I gave oats and some tea that was starting to go bad, I figure rotting leaf juice is a good land offering, I also finished the last of my solstice/equinox working, I started December 2021 I finished September 2022, whew, and I almost forgot to do it too!

So while I still have some pumpkins on the vine mostly the harvest is winding down, here's my broom seeds!

The strawberries were in great form this year though if I'm honest there freaking me out a little, back you mangy vegetation! back I say!

And I'm so freaking proud of my broom this year, last year I only got a couple up, this year I got 20 sets of three seeds to come up, we did have an unfortunate bird attack so I had to rapidly cut the seeds down before I lost them,

Here's a shot before they'd all seeded and rippend, and then got mauled by evil little birds lol

honestly I think my backyard itself is my basket this year, I'm so amazed at the work ma and I have done to it, I told you all in my bed hagging out earlier it was struggling in the heat this year?

Well as soon as the temps dropped a bit the everything started blooming, the butterfly hit, and we've got like forty different bee species, I saw a fucking praying Mantus going up our lattice, my dudes I've NEVER seen one of those in nature! Also ma saw a fucking humming bird at our butterfly bush! Never seen that around here! Also also a humming brid mouth took residence here for like three weeks, I'd seen one up in the mountains once a few years ago got it on camera and was like the fuck is this, and it was so cool to have one just hanging around chillin on all the flowers and really liking the sunflowers that crop up every year,

This backyard was such a ugly waste land when we got here,

We'd moved in October 2017, I worked my ass off that first year getting all that wood bits off the ground to keep my dogs from cutting up there paws on it, there was also plastic crap under it and the dirt I pulled up, and there were these metal things around the rocks I had to get up also a paw slicing hazard, and don't even get me started on the fire pit, I went to move it thinking it was a ring with spikes pushed into the ground oh no these dumb fuckers varied a regular fucking big fire pit into the ground, anyway here she is now:

Only sad thing is the line tree died on us, there was a bad winter followed by fires near by that bolted out the sun a had a film of soot over everything, it tired but this extremely hot summer did her in,

All in all though while I can't fit my whole yard into my hand basket I've got broom and pumpkin etc and hopefully more next year!

I also was able to get a Hekate statue I've been wanting since last year! I spent all month praying over her while passing her through smoke,

And finally, with how upset Mittens has been with the loss of her sister ma and I after discussing and prayers to my Gods decided to go look for a companion for her, I found a pretty 4 month old kitten in a shelter nearby, we've been having her be a little apart so they can get used to each other and we've kept kitten in the bathroom at night, funnily enough we had a basket in there full of stuff and I walked in couldn't find her at first only to see she'd stuffed herself in it around the stuff, we ended up giving her a different basket cause she kept smacking her stomach on the hard rim and they'd recently fixed her, so ouchy stitches!

I've named her Circe, she's the third cat I've had whose name I plucked from Greek mythology

Does she count? She is in a basket, lol, also took me a bit to show y'all her cause I needed to get her added in to my protection spells,

actually does any of this count I had a little trouble trying to fit this one with where I'm at right now, anyway thank you for the challenge Dirty and for hosting these! Love to you dear♡

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www-artforoddballs · 3 years ago

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Mammon couldn't do it anymore. He was tired.

He was tired of the constant disrespect. He was tired of being treated by shit by everybody that was supposed to love him and cherish him. He was tired of his brothers treating each other better than they ever treated him.

"You're truly useless, aren't you, Mammon? If you think your antics are so funny, then maybe you should go jump off of a bridge without your wings to save you."

That was the last thing Lucifer had said to him before he tapped out of processing.

He hadn't even done anything bad this time. It was April Fool's day, he had pulled small, insignificant pranks on all his brothers. It was nowhere near what Satan and Belphie had done to the first born, so why was he being told to kill himself?

So as his ears rang and his body trembled, he couldn't even process the scolding that Lucifer was giving him. Nothing was processing to him, not the warmth of the fire in the fire place, not the rumbling of thunder, not the patter of rain hitting the house. Mammon started to darkly chuckle to himself, catching the attention of his brother.

"Are you even paying attention to me?!" Snarled the angry first born as he forced his younger brother to look at him.

And Mammon couldn't do it anymore. He was tired.

So he broke, opening like a flooding dam.

"Well maybe if all of you showed me some fucking respect for once, Lucifer, we wouldn't be where we are right now." He growled, reaching a level of animosity that shocked the avatar of pride. As Lucifer's eyes widened slightly and he stepped away from his brother, Mammon continued.

"You want me to go fucking kill myself? Fine. Maybe I will. But if I'm going down, I'm taking everybody down with me. For all of the late nights where I've been the shoulder to cry on, for all the times I've made sure you didn't work yourself to death, for all of Beel and Satan's night terrors that I've helped with, you think I would earn some fucking respect as the emotional backbone of this entire household!" He laughed, voice empty and devoid of anything but anger.

"You think I'm such a disgrace? Alright, Mister "perfect creation", let's go with that. Who, exactly, had the idea to start the war that led to all of our fucking trauma? Because spoiler, that would be you, you old bastard. And who was by your side through everything? Who didn't lock themselves away, who gave up their mental energy and health to support everybody else? Oh, that's right, that would be ME again!"

Lucifer grew quiet as he looked at the younger brother, the one whose voice was growing more unhinged, whose appearance was shifting into his demonic form.

"Mammon, I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to do what, Lucifer? Systematically break me down for the last few milennia? Then congrats, you failed!" Mammon snapped at the first born.

"Do you even care that I have a gambling addiction? You don't seem to care unless it effects my money supply. Y'know, for all of your supposed perfections, I can see what your biggest flaw is. And it is that you are weak," Mammon spat.

"You will avoid us and bury yourself into work just so that you don't have to man up and face your own emotions and trauma. You hurt other people because you're hurting, Lucifer. But you refuse to admit that ANYTHING is wrong with you! Guess what, Lucifer?! You aren't fucking special!"

Lucifer's shock turned to horror as Mammon's teeth sharpened, nails elongating and turning into talons, the roaring fire in the fireplace illuminating the monstrous form that the second born had taken on.

"You know what? Crows aren't the only animals associated with greed. So if I need to step up and stop being your comic relief and punching bag to get the respect that I actually deserve around here, stop being a little ditzy bird that gets insulted and shit on and discarded?" Mammon pondered, venom dripping from his voice, and as he looked the first born in the eyes, the power of the House of Lamentation went out, the fire leaving with it, leaving behind only smoke as the pattern on Mammon's skin and his eyes illuminated the now dark room with yellow light.

"Then I'll step up and be a god damn dragon."

Not my best work but I mentioned that I'd love to see something like this happen in game a while ago lol so I figured I'd write it.

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me angst #tw abuse #obey me mammon #obey me luci #obey me lucifer #angst obey me #obey me drabble #bad language #tw sui mention #tw suidice #tw gambling addiction #tw addiction

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barry-j-blupjeans · 3 years ago

Note

38, 42, or 5 with angus and your pick of who else from the 50 ways to say I love you prompts? Baby boy…

5. “Give me a hug please”

38. “I am not leaving you”

42. “You’re not alone anymore”

(all :D!!! this got kinda long I'm real sorry sdldfsdf)

The thing about Mr. Magnus- just Magnus, just Magnus, Angus, c'mon- was that he was sort of, kind of protective. Angus knew he didn't mean to be, but he also supposed it was just sort of built into him now. Magnus had spent over a hundred years being a protector and he certainly wasn't going to stop. Angus felt very safe when at home, because he was certain that Magnus had locked the doors three times over and swept through the perimeter of the house at least once.

That being said, preventative measures outside didn't mean that Angus was safe inside. Inside his brain, he meant. Not inside the house. The inside of the house was very safe.

But Angus was very young and, well, the trauma of a nearly world-ending event could mess up his mind a little. Today in particular was pretty bad. It had started alright, with a barely burnt breakfast and a time spent by the nook reading while Mr. Magnus- while Magnus carved away at something. And then Angus had gone on a walk.

And he had forgotten the knife Mr. Magnus gave him and he got started by a rabbit in the bushes to the east of their house and he knew it was silly but then every little moment was catching his attention and he couldn't focus and it felt like the Hunger was back and, and, and-

Angus kind of slammed the front door closed rather than shut it gently like he usually did. Mr. Magnus startled and dropped his carving tools, but Angus was already halfway up the stairs. He was in his room (another slammed door) by the time Mr. Magnus started following him. He buried his face in his pillow and shut his eyes tight and listened.

Mr. Magnus was climbing up the stairs. He was halfway up because there was a creaky step in the middle that he never tried to avoid like Angus did. Outside, the birds who had built their nest in the tree next to Angus's window were absent. Though when Angus strained his ears really hard, he could tell the squirrel that kept stealing their nuts from their birdfeeder was back at his usual tricks. There was a dog barking somewhere, and it wasn't one of theirs, because Mr. Magnus had dropped them off at a pet spa before Angus had even woken up.

Mr. Magnus knocked. Angus didn't make any move to get up. He felt the fabric on his pillow instead. It was soft and plush and Miss Lup had made it for him when she got her body back (something about practicing fine motor skills and "stealing Taako's apprentice from him"). Angus's door squeaked open.

He had to check to see if it was Mr. Magnus (he had to, he had to). It was. He buried his head back into his pillow.

"Um," Mr. Magnus began. "Heya Ango."

He sat at the edge of Angus's bed. It squeaked. Angus breathed in deep and tried to place all the smells he could pick up. Mr. Magnus's cologne, the one that always made Mr. Merle cough. Angus's own deodorant, a fresh "pine" smell that was actually nothing like real pine. The slight trace of their laundry detergent on his sheets.

"Angus?" Mr. Magnus- just Magnus, goddamn it, Angus- said. "Are you with me?"

"Uh-huh," Angus said, mostly into his pillow.

"Can I..." Magnus seemed to hesitate. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I just got really scared," Angus blurted out before he could stop himself. Deep breath, deep breath- the color of his pillow was red, his sheets were blue, his sweater vest was light brown today. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for being scared," Magnus said. "Can I touch your shoulder? Is that okay?"

Angus nodded, not looking away from his bed. He had a quilt that was dark blue and tan. There were patches with little flower designs. Lilac. Honeysuckle. Unidentifiable leaves. Dark blue, tan, dark blue, tan. Magnus's hand was heavy on his shoulder.

"What scared you?" he asked gently. Angus resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

"A rabbit," he said. "But I wasn't listening and- and I didn't expect it and it scared me and I didn't have the knife you gave me and I thought it was the Hunger-"

"Shh," Magnus said soothingly, but Angus had to press on.

"And I was all alone," he choked out. "I thought it was gonna die but it was just a rabbit and that's-" Angus made a frustrated noise, not really knowing how to describe it. He focused back on his quilt. Dark blue, tan, dark blue-

"Angus," Magnus said quietly. Angus failed to choke back a sob. "You're not alone anymore, I promise. I'm not leaving you."

"I'm sorry," Angus said again, not really sure why. "I'm sorry, I didn't to ruin your morning and- and now- and now you're gonna think I'm just a baby and I'm not a baby! I'm not!"

"I'm not saying you are," Magnus said, rubbing circles into his shoulder. "You're a very mature young adult, Angus. But I'm probably like, the most mature person you know, and I'd be scared then. That's not a joke. Something sneaking up on me when I'm not expecting it? That's terrifying, Angus, and I'm sorry that happened. Is there..." he hesitated again, the circles stopping. Angus missed them already. "What can I do to help you?"

"I'm not a baby," Angus said again, weakly. The panic was starting to wear off a little. Dark blue, tan, dark blue, tan. He blinked at his quilt.

"No, you're not," Magnus agreed.

"I..." Lilac, honeysuckle, leaves. "Give me a hug, please?"

"'Course," Magnus said and Angus was swept up into his arms. The weight of it all was much more grounding than his other coping strategies. Magnus's arms were sort of forcing him back into the present. Sometimes his brain made really illogical jumps when he was like this. Like the lilac, honeysuckle, leaves, there were leaves at the battle, until something stepped over them and came towards Angus and-

"I can hear you thinking," Magnus said, prodding him. "Stop doin' that." Angus giggled wetly, burying his head into Magnus's shoulder.

"I'm trying," Angus said. "It's hard."

"You're doing great," Magnus said, squeezing just a touch tighter. "I'm really proud of you." Angus blinked away a few tears. Magnus continued with,

"I've been reading Caleb Cleveland since you suggested it and I just finished the, uh, eighth book I think? The one about the missing goldfish that's actually a cover-up for a murder?"

"Caleb Cleveland and the Case of the Submerged Misses Hotsdail," Angus said, tearing his eyes away from his quilt for the last time. "That one's good."

"The plot twist was kinda lame," Magnus said conversationally. Angus knew he was trying to distract him and his brain itched at the chance. "I really didn't expect it to be the butler this time! I thought they would have retired that that twist after the fifth book."

"They get better as you go on," Angus said into Magnus's shoulder. "It really picks up around book fifteen."

"I'll take your word on it."

#magnus burnsides #angus mcdonald #taz #taz balance #mine #ise cube writing #asks #anon #tw panic attack #ask to tag #i based it off my ptsd slightly but idk if it's Enough to warrant a tag for that so #idk lemme know

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enderwoah · 3 years ago

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ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

#this is so long #origins smp #originssmp #ranboo #tubbo #philza #philza minecrft #sneegsnag #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #help this is so long

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thedelusionreaderbitch · 3 years ago

Text

Kaz Brekker/Platonic! Crows x fem! Reader - Silence

A/n: So I know I haven't been very active lately but hopefully that will change! Also I don't really love this fic it's not very good and I might rewrite it in the future but for now, you guys can enjoy this shit!!!

Warnings: Abuse, sexual abuse, rape, violence, mentions of death, technically mentions of suicide, THIS FIC IS A MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING!!!!

Summary: They used to be happy. That’s what Jesper says anyways about his sister. When he’s asked where it all went wrong it’s usually responded with an I have no idea. When Kaz comes to confront them in front of the Crows why you came back all bloodied and carrying back a body, they know this isn’t going to end well…

Death clung to you. That's what people muttered in the streets of Ketterdam, 'if the Blackbird is on a strike don't go outside for a week and remember, pray to the saint who wears the most colour.'

Great bedtime stories for children.

Your legend would never end, though it must have begun somewhere. Someone who you decided could witness one of your killings must have made up a story. Started it up and told it in fright to someone and the people not believing a word they say. Before their dead of course. And then it spreads like the plague.

The Blackbird was once a hopeful girl, full of dreams and happiness. She had beautiful feathers of all different kinds of colours, and they sang to the heavens and it was as if she was a child of the saints. Then one day - the bird that brought kindness and sunshine to everyone's lives fell into a trap.

There was a hyena that people all thought was bad news but she thought she could help him become a better person.

The little birdy was wrong.

He hurt the bird of colours so badly that one day he burned her feathers and they became pitch black. The hyena thought that he had won at last and had gotten power over the bird.

It was said that she ran and escaped the terrible beast that day. And because he had changed her to the very soul she wasn't the same anymore, no. She was only used for revenge, and it was said she turned her backs on the saints for not saving her. When the saints did decide to intervene the little bird was shattered and could no longer sing. Her voice reduced to a vengeful whip, it was no longer beautiful but fearsome.

It was said that on that night the Blackbird used her wings on Ketterdam so she could cover the sky in darkness so the stars in the sky, the only things the saints could use to watch over mankind was blindfolded in a merciless fog.

And there the Blackbird was born.

Maybe death clung to you, but not the same way that trauma and the cruelness of the world does.

And that's a fate worse than death.

You remember strike one, you and Jesper were kids - happy kids. And the neighbour's son of was considerably older than both of you offered to babysit the one time your Da, and Ma was out.

Jesper was playing in the back, perhaps practicing shooting so he could impress your Mum but you stayed inside saying something along the lines that you wanted to cook some cookies for Dad.

How you wished you hadn't.

That teenage boy had put his filthy little hands on you. He left you in the kitchen tears running down your face and bile that you had to force back down your throat.

Your mother had found you like that and she instantly knew what had happened and she made everything much more bearable. When you had nightmares you would get up and knock on her door quietly enough for her just to hear and because your Ma was a light sleeper but your Da was not, she would get up and see you alright.

The poor woman never told her husband because you had pleaded with her not to. She always did blame herself and she made sure the boy never came around again but she did thank the saints that he didn't go all the way.

She wasn't sunshine, (she always said that was you!) No, she was the faint moonlight in the distance that helped guide you on your way home.

Then she died.

Strike two, was your mother dying. You remember that day where she went to take the poison out of that child and when she did she sucked it back into herself. In your arms was the last place your Ma took her last breath.

That was the day the world had lost its guide home and it always seemed to be in peril after that.

Strike three came almost immediately after strike two. Your father wouldn't talk to you. You became a ghost in your own house, you understood your father though,

she did die in your arms.

Jesper was the only one that didn't make strike three the last strike where the rope was at its point and snapped. He was your armour against the world, with his funny quirks and quips. He was the older brother you needed in those moments.

But armour slowly breaks over time and your dear brother wasn't getting enough out of life at the farm. So when your Father sent Jesper to Ketterdam you went right with him.

You attended college for a bit but eventually, your armour had finally left you. It broke under the stress of everything in his life that he couldn't keep up with yours.

So you meant him.

He was kind but knew when the world was being too cruel. He was wealthy, but not rich. He was sweet, but not puke up rainbows kind of way. He knew you like the back of his hand and always knew how to comfort you. Jesper had actually meant him once before he got too busy with the Dregs and said maybe he knew you too well.

You yelled at him at the time and said that was absurd! He would never do anything to hurt you!

Strike four was falling under his spell.

Strike five was when he told you terrible things about yourself and you thought he was always right. He could do no wrong in your eyes.

Strike six was when he finally started beating you and you had just expected it at this point.

Strike seven was when you weren't allowed to go to school anymore.

Strike eight was when he wouldn't let you see anyone, not even your brother. But you never questioned it, he was basically a saint to you, why would you? Besides Jesper never seemed to have time for you anyways.

Strike nine was when he cheated on you and told you you had to be better.

Strike ten was when he started raping you.

Then one day he was worse than usual and you grabbed the hot poker from the fire pit, that he had used to beat you before, and you had told him to stay away.

Then you ran.

It was the straw the broke the camel's back, it was the saints giving up on him or maybe it was the saints giving up on you.

You didn't care, you were free.

You made one promise that day, that you would never love again.

You learned quickly what Ketterdam was like even before you had meant him, so perhaps that was why it was so easy to become the Blackbird. The girl who never smiled, the girl who only lived only for revenge. The monster that will wipe your existence off of the earth like it was nothing. The ghost that will haunt you when your sins line up too high.

Eventually, you joined the dregs and you connected with your brother once again and he knew something was wrong the moment he felt your presence. He didn't believe you were the Blackbird, the girl who terrorized the streets of Ketterdam.

But he learned to accept it, they all did except for that blasted Brekker boy.

With your time in the Dregs, you had slowly begun to form something with Kaz but you quickly remembered your promise to yourself and you let him go.

Although you don't like to admit it, the Crows had become your friends - family even. You would do anything to protect them even though it didn't seem like it. You were you though, and that was being afraid to even semi-connect with them. Of course, you were, because you were growing a bit too fond of Kaz Brekker and last time that lead you to a fate worse than death.

So you distanced yourself for a while to recollect your thoughts and if you really wanted to stay with them. Did they ever manipulate you? No. Then you came back and you stayed, maybe you weren't the perfect friend or a very good one at all but the Crows knew you even considering to stay was a blessing all in itself.

They were always so patient with you even Kaz, especially Kaz, and you never gave anything in return to them. Guilt would often cloud your mind when you were near them but they were always so amazing something you could never be.

But one day they came to their breaking point.

Killing people wasn't anything new for them, much less you killing people but coming back with a bloodied body and losing contact with them for weeks was probably not the same as just 'killing.'

Jesper pulls you by your bicep into Kaz's office with the other Crows following behind. You stumble in as Kaz slams the door shut being the last one in the room. They stare at you with beady eyes almost like the ones on the infamous birds around the Slat.

"What the fuck Y/n!" Jesper finally yells. Everyone around doesn't even bother to tell him to lower his voice their faces held the same anger that Jes's did.

Silence drowns you in its ocean keeping you in its waters. A chain is wrapped around your throat as you sink deeper and deeper into its depths. You try and swim away, run like you always had before, but the weight around your neck is too heavy, too dense and it slowly drowns you.

You just shrugged your shoulders. How could you explain all that you went through? Why would you want to?

"We can't just brush this off Y/n, we always do, but you crossed a line," Wylan states calmly but firmly at the same time putting a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder trying to ease the tension in the room.

You laugh, you hadn't even been walking a line at all. No, you had been jumping from rooftop to rooftop as they created a chalk line at how far you could go. Balling your hands into fits you snarl, they have been keeping you back. Maybe it's a good thing but you didn't want to admit it.

What about Kaz? A voice whispers in the back of your head.

Your eyes travel to his form in the back. He's leaning on the wall slightly but also using his cane to make himself look up-right. The darkness in the back compliments his angular features making them stand out as if saying he was above you. And to most people he probably was and he deserved that position.

But it didn't matter to you, he was just Kaz to you. Even if you saw him as someone... Important in your life, nevertheless he didn't matter. He was just another powerful man drawing a line that you couldn't cross as the line became smaller and smaller till you were trapped against a wall with nowhere to go.

When you first became the Blackbird, you climbed up that wall, you knew what was going to happen next. And you would never let anyone do that to you again.

"If you think I crossed the 'line' then your wrong." Your voice started out light-hearted (never does a fake smile crawl on your face though) but slowly became menacing and terrifying.

You spin of your heels turning to Jesper. "You've kept me in a cage giving me freedom but always locking me back up in the night."

You turn to Wylan and you mock his voice from earlier. "It was only a matter of time before I would break out." Your eyes lock onto Kaz's and your voice softens while you look at him.

"You knew it was going to happen sooner rather than later. A bird needs to stretch its wings somehow."

"That doesn't mean you get to cut off communication with us for weeks than bringing in a body all bloodied. What you said before doesn't even explain why you did that Y/n," Inej says quietly.

You growl and the people closest to you jump back a little.

"Oh, what are you going to do, kick me out? Half of your businesses wouldn't have even succeeded without me!"

Jesper balls his hands into fists. "Gee for fuck's sake Y/n would just tell us!"

"HE'S THE REASON I'M A MONSTER!"

Your shout makes everyone freeze in their place and there it is again. The overbearing silence that takes over everything with its darkness. Running threw out the room, swirling around you and making it impossible for you to even hear anything other than your own terrible thoughts of madness.

But one voice isn't in your head of that hyena howling at you no, it's real and you can hear it among the darkness. You close your eyes listening in and hearing something other than darkness.

"Y/n." Your eyes snap open and you meet Kaz's eyes and you feel something dangerously close to relief.

"Everyone else out."

The Crows file out of the room one by one following Kaz's order. Everyone leaves but Jesper hesitates at the door and you see your broken armour trying to come back to you again and although it's harsh he wasn't there when he should have been. You understood that he had other problems he needed to sort out but you were his little sister.

You were supposed to stick up for each other.

"Out." Your voice would sound cold to anyone else but to Jesper, it sounds tired and unhappy. Lonely also however it has a hit of love and revenge as well.

The taller brother just sighs though and close's the door.

Kaz's eyes meet yours and your hands start to fidget with the cuffs of your bloodied shirt.

He doesn't say anything, he just stares at you. Willing you to spill information with just a glance. Any God would fall prey to those eyes and they would disclose all their knowledge while also thanking him in the end.

Kaz Brekker had something more powerful than Godly power over you.

So you couldn't help but tell him the real more dark story behind the Blackbird, he had already told you his so maybe, just maybe you could trust him.

"Do you know the Story of the Blackbird?" Your voice rings out against the muteness of the room fighting against it for once in your miserable life.

Kaz nods his head showing you that he knew. Of course, he knew it, was Brekker he probably knows every single version by heart.

"And I assume you know it's about me?"

Rolling his eyes but nodding once again.

You hesitate, knowing that after this you couldn't go back. That these next few words could change everything and why are you even telling this to the bastard of the barrel?

Because you love him.

It's simple and you promised yourself you would never love again but possibly that promise wasn't real because perhaps you never really loved that hyena. Some form of peace has definitely come from killing him, but maybe there's more to moving on from trauma than just revenge.

So with those thoughts in mind, the words tumble out of your mouth and you wouldn't be able to stop them even if you tried.

"Around the time where Jesper was just starting in the Dregs I had gotten a boyfriend. He was... Well, he was the perfect boyfriend but looking back he was too perfect. Basically fake, he was a manipulator and he knew me like the back of his hand. He knew where to press and I was under the impression that he could do nothing wrong." You pause to take a breath but you don't look up from your spot on the floor.

"It started with the small things like little insults thrown my way, but then it grew into bigger things like calling me a slut and what not. I wasn't even surprised when he started beating me."

Your eyes slowly come off the floor and they travel up Kaz's body but never meeting his eyes. You didn't want to see the disappointment that would be held in those eyes. That was inevitable.

"Then every day it started to get worse till he-" You cut yourself off and your legs wobble underneath you and as you collapsed Kaz jetted out and caught you before you could fall.

Tears were running down your face as you gripped Kaz's shirt as he picked you up bridal style and carried you over to the bed. He place's you down and slides in beside you yet there was a good distance between the two of you. But it still gave you comfort and for the first time in a while, you didn't question why it did, you just went with it already knowing the reason why.

You loved him it was as simple as that.

"Then he-" You choked on a sob again and you bring your knees to your chest.

"You don't have to say it." He says gently nothing like what that hyena used to do to you.

"Noah used to rape me." The words come out in a blur and the tight feeling in your chest slowly falls apart and for the first time in a while, you truly feel like a Blackbird - free. Stuttering to breathe in a realization comes to your mind; Noah that monster will never hurt you ever again.

"Oh, my Saints! He's dead!" You cover your mouth with your hand and you lean back onto the headboard tears of happiness smear down your face. You don't laugh though but you feel even clearer than before. You could get used to this feeling.

Slowly you look over to Kaz and you realize the two of you were broken souls beyond repair and maybe just maybe that's what you needed. Perhaps that's what you both need, each other.

"Thank you." You whisper and the ends of Kaz's mouth curl's up a bit into what looks like is almost a smile but not quite. You would get there too one day.

===========TIME SKIP 4 Months======================

You jump from the rooftop gliding through the air and landing on the window sill of Kaz's office. You tilt your head to the side affectionately as you see The Crows getting ready for a heist only they're really just fooling around. Everyone but Kaz of course, he's in his desk chair drawing out some maps.

And they tell you you overwork! Hypocrites.

You open the window silently and you slip into the room unnoticed. You tiptoe over to Kaz's desk and you leap on top.

Kaz raises his eyebrow at you and you just shrug your shoulders, he probably had to stop anyways.

"You know there are other ways to get my attention other than acting like a child?"

"Oh, I know this is just more effective." You playfully respond.

Before Kaz could continue with the banter Jesper interject's just realizing you were here grabbing everyone's attention and placing it on you. Still not a fan of that.

"How the hell did you get from that rooftop to that window!" Jesper points outside in a slightly worried, big brother voice.

So you look him dead in the eyes and say; "I flew."

Jesper laughs along with the rest of The Crows but they stop at your deadpan look on your face.

"You didn't really?!"

"No, I didn't." You roll your eyes, "I didn't even think you knew that I did that."

Jesper comes over and wraps an arm around your shoulders and you immediately tense up.

"I do know some tricks! I am your older brother after all." His tone does get a few octaves of sombre at the end remembering the memories of how he didn't protect you before. But he's here now so you guess that's all matter's now.

You scoot off the desk out of his arm range but you do send him a sorry glance. The memories were just too much to handle sometimes. He just sends me a tiny knowing smile and nods and walk's off quietly (for the first time in his life) over to Wylan.

You watch everyone interact and it almost brings a smile to your face but something is missing and you wonder what it is.

Your question is quickly answered though as Kaz stands up beside you. His ungloved hand slowly garb's onto yours's and slowly you intertwine your fingers together.

"You really are the leader of a bunch of idiots." You say as Nina dares your brother to down a whole bucket paint.

"Yes, that's what it seems."

"But we love them." And for the first time in a while, you smile and it's not full-blown, it's tiny yet it has the whole galaxy in there.

"Yes, Yes I do." But Kaz isn't looking at The Crows he's looking at you.

Words 3517

-thedelusionreaderbitch

Shadow and bone taglist: @kaqua @rika90 @thefandomplace @musical-theatre-obsessed-dumbass @gallysonegoodlung @navs-bhat @sumsebien @dontjudgeabookbythecover

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lxngbottom · 4 years ago

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Mute | N.L.

in which the reader doesn’t talk, and neville tries to change that.

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of mental illness/anxiety, some angst (let me know if there are more!)

word count: 2,298

thank you for all of the love on my last two one shots!! it means so much ty ty okay now enjoy

—

“trauma, maybe? my dad’s friend who’s a muggle doctor said that trauma can completely change a person.”

there the three boys were again, sitting at the gryffindor table in the great hall, trying to understand the girl who would always sit ways away from everyone else.

“maybe she’s just really shy!” dean quickly replied, shooting down seamus’s suggestion. seamus shrugged, and took a large gulp of his morning pumpkin juice.

“no! longbottom is “shy”, but y/n? i haven’t heard her say one single thing since second year.”

neville listened in on his friend’s conversation, only letting his eyes leave them when he went to take quick glances at the girl of the hour.

y/n was to put it into simple terms... mute. it was very difficult to hear her utter a single vowel, let along a whole statement. everyone at hogwarts knew that she was not just quiet or shy, but completely silent. people wondered how one person could go without speaking for so long. she was a bit jittery, seemingly nervous all the time. if someone shot a single look at her and she noticed, she would look away without even giving the person a chance to smile or wave.

weirdly, she had always been this way. since the first day of first year, she kept to herself, not even attempting on taking the chance of getting to know someone who might become a life long friend. it really got under people’s skin when they asked her a question, and she just simply wouldn’t respond. so, this caused for students to completely avoid her. it seemed that it was a collective agreement among the school that no one should even try speaking to her. and that was because, again, they would never get a reply.

out of these students, neville longbottom seemed to be the most intrigued. he would never forget the first time he heard her speak. it was one day in third year, of course neville was clumsily making his way down the hallway. as he did so, he didn’t notice that y/n was walking straight for him. and of course, she didn’t notice him either until they both crashed into each other’s bodies. neville fell back onto the ground, letting a small huff escape from his lips. surrounding students cackled at the two as they continued walking. when he looked up, he saw the panic in her eyes and the way she quickly reached down to get her books.

“uh—merlin... sorry about that...” he stuttered, reaching down as well to help her. she glanced at him, but quickly looked away when he noticed. of course, she stayed silent. “are you alright?”

she nodded her head, and stood up with the books in her hand. “yeah. thanks.” and with that, she rushed away from him, not even giving him a chance to say one more word.

he would never forget it. the way her voice was so soft and fragile. he had honestly wished he could hear it more.

admittedly, neville felt bad for her. every time he looked at her, something nagged at him about the girl. every time she got called out in class to answer a question, he would panic for her as her face would drop.

she looked so lonely. she would sit in the back of the class always. he had seen her in the library quite often, just reading, sitting all alone at a table. he hated that she seemed so alone.

he wanted to change that.

—

the day was quiet. only the sounds of birds outside and the wind blowing through the trees on the castle grounds. saturdays were always the perfect days for going to the library, studying, or just to read a good book. that was y/n’s plans consisted of most of the time.

y/n made her way through the large halls, waving discreetly to the paintings on the wall. it seemed as if the lively pictures were the only people that ever respected her, told her hello as she walked by.

her fingers were tightly grasped around two books, as she was planning on returning both of them. her face didn’t show it, but she was quite excited to find two more books to add to her reading list. reading had always been considered an easy escape to y/n. pages filled with so many words, but told so many different stories. stories about love, heartbreak, dragons, princesses, noble wizards, y/n enjoyed all of it.

as she daydreamed about her next book, she hadn’t noticed the small group of students exchanging glances and laughing as they saw her approaching. before she knew it, her books were being slapped out of her hand, and hit the ground with a loud noise.

she looked up finally and saw draco malfoy standing right in front of her, hands in his pockets, chuckling with all of his friends from his choice of action against her.

“you gotta be quicker than that, mute!” he teased, and y/n bent down to grab the two books. when she stood up and met eyes with him again, he shook his head at her. “can’t think of a good comeback? or are you just too scared to say anything?”

she held the books tight to her chest, trembling from malfoy’s presence.

“thought so. see you around, mute.” he spat her way, but not forgetting to bump into her figure as he walked away, his friends following behind him.

y/n sighed, and turned around to make sure they were completely gone.

she started her journey once again, making her way to her sanctuary that people called the library.

when she arrived, she returned her books to madam prince silently, and this didn’t shock the librarian whatsoever. she was used to y/n coming in, checking out countless books, and checking them out and returning them muted.

as y/n skimmed the aisles, she came to the conclusion that she would once again read one of her favorite books. she had read it about seven times, but she could never get over how beautifully written it was. it was truly the best thing she had ever laid her eyes on, and she knew she would probably read it once more after this time around.

but when she went over the familiar bookshelf, the book in question wasn’t in the place it always was. she furrowed her eyes brows, and checked the rest of the shelves near just to make sure it hadn’t been misplaced. but of course, it was no where to be found.

malfoy had provided her with a sour experience already that day, and now she couldn’t even check out her favorite book? she already knew where this day was going, and she frowned in disappointment at the thought.

y/n had settled on some other fantasy novel that seemed to acquire to her taste. she checked it out, and made her way to the back of the library. she always went where it was secluded, almost no one else but her present. but little did she know, behind all the shelves she was walking by, someone followed her.

she finally found a small table to sit down at, and she did so with relief. it always made her so nervous to think that she might have to actually sit with other people one day. but luckily, that day wasn’t today. or so she thought.

because as a few minutes went by, and her eyes were glued to the book pages in front of her, she heard a chair being pushed. she looked up, and met eyes with neville longbottom. he shot her a small smile before speaking,

“can i sit here? it’s okay if not, everywhere else just feels a bit stuffy.”

she stared at his features for a moment, thinking back to the day when she bumped into him in the hallway. she gave him a single nod, and luckily, he didn’t miss it.

as he sat down in front of her, she gulped heavily. she hated being around others, even in a peaceful place such as a library.

a few minutes went by, the silence filling in the gap between the two. neville would glance at her a few times over his book, and she seemingly seemed lost in her own world. but at some point, she finally did look away from the words on the pages. she looked at the book he was “reading”, and noticed the familiar cover. if she hadn’t caught herself, she would’ve let out an audible gasp.

he had her book.

she seemed to be staring for too long, because neville looked at her.

“have you read this before?” he suddenly asked, snapping her back into reality. “it’s actually pretty good. i’m not big on fantasy, but this isn’t too bad.”

yeah, it’s an amazing book. she knew that very well.

but of course, she didn’t express that into words for neville. she only snapped her eyes back to her book, and neville frowned a bit.

did he say something wrong? he thought for sure that this was her favorite book. i mean, he had seen her with it more times than he could keep track of, so he could only assume.

“what’s that you’re reading? is it good?”

she looked up at him through hooded eyes, still not budging.

“well, anyways... i’m more of a herbology book lover. i love learning new things about plants. i think it’s really cool...”

y/n felt herself becoming confused, and almost bothered. she knew who neville was, but couldn’t understand why he was attempting to spark a conversation with her.

“i noticed that you like to read,” he mentioned, and y/n finally looked at him fully. “i mean—i see you here a lot, and you’re always reading from what i can tell. what’s your favorite genre?”

as neville attempted to get the girl to speak, he closed his book without looking. he realized that was a mistake when the heavy book closed onto his finger, and he let out a loud yelp.

as much as y/n tried, she couldn’t hold in the small giggle that fell from her lips. she covered her mouth in an attempt to hide it, but neville’s ears caught it.

“oh, you think my suffering is funny, huh?” neville joked, smiling out of triumph. she hadn’t spoke, but she laughed. and neville swore it was the most angelic thing he had ever heard.

she shook her head at his question, her cheeks turning a dark red from embarrassment. she had hoped he was okay, but nonetheless, it was funny.

the whole time they were in the library, neville rambled on about random things. he had brought up his interests in plants, making sure not to over explain his love for them. he talked about books, and random things that had happened to him and his friends during his time at hogwarts. he was making it his number one goal to get her to talk at least once.

but as darkness began to fall, and as curfew approached quicker and quicker by the minute, he hadn’t succeeded. he was quite shy at the fact that he had just sat in the library all day rambling to someone who never even spoke back. she had seemed to be listening, which took him by surprise. he had never had someone to listen to him as he spoke, let along not interrupt him in a conversation.

as much as she hated to admit it, y/n had a good time herself. she loved the way neville talked, how he explained things so deeply and with so much detail. he never seemed to miss a beat in a conversation, even if it was practically with himself. it made her realize that she wish she had the strength to speak. she wished she could respond to his questions without feeling her stomach churning.

the two left the library, their bags draped over their shoulders as they walked. y/n still had two books clutched into her hand, as she has checked out a random herbology book before leaving. neville smiled when she did so, feeling giddy inside that he had managed to spark an interest in her.

“that book is really good! it’s all about water plants! which are really cool, by the way. you should read up on gillyweed! it’s this really cool plant that—“ when he went to ramble on once more, he stopped himself. “never mind. i think i’ve talked a bit too much, today. wouldn’t you agree?”

for some reason, y/n wanted him to keep talking. it filled the silence that she considered her serenity, and she enjoyed every last word he spoke.

“well... i think this is where we part ways. do you need me to walk you back?” he asked, secretly hoping that she would say yes. but, she shook her head no. he was greatly dissatisfied, but, he tried his best to understand.

“oh, okay. well... goodnight, y/n. maybe we can hang out in the library some other time.”

he smiled at her, not expecting a word, but only catching a glimpse at the red that rose to the tips of her ears.

neville began to walk away, feeling a bit defeated.

suddenly, something that neville never wouldn’t expected:

“goodnight.”

he stopped in his place, and turned around. she covered her mouth with her books, but neville could tell that she was smiling. he couldn’t believe that the word had left her mouth.

“goodnight, y/n.” he repeated, and she shot him a smile before walking in the other direction. a genuine smile. the first one he had ever seen besides from her giggling.

he wanted to hear that voice, and those giggles more than she could ever have guessed.

#harry potter #neville longbottom #neville longbottom imagine #neville x reader #neville longbottom smut #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut

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pub-lius · 3 years ago

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ACTUALLY Hardcore Facts About Alexander Hamilton

Alright, take two.

I've already typed this entire thing out once, so this is likely going to be a lot more lazy than anything else I will ever post, so :).

Sources: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow; John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory D. Massy; The Federalist by Alexander Hamilton; George Washington's Indispensible Men by Authur S. Lefkowitz; Lafayette by Harlow Giles Unger; Who Was Alexander Hamilton? by Pam Pollack and Meg Belviso

Hamilton wished for a war when he was like a baby. So if you know Hamilton, you know that one line where Hamilton says "As a kid of the Carribean, I wished for a war, I knew that I was poor, I knew it was the only way to rISE UP-" in Right Hand Man. Well, that line is based off of a letter Hamilton sent to his childhood bestie, Edward Stevens: "...Ned, my ambition is [so] prevalent that I... would willingly risk my life, tho' not my character, to exalt my station... I'm no philosopher, you see, and may be jus[t]ly said to build castles in the air... I shall conclude by saying I wish there was a war. Alex. Hamilton." Okay, dude, calm down, you're like two years old. I think he was actually like 14-16, but for dramatic purposes we'll say he was an actual infant (do I sound like Chernow?). But I hate how much this letter foreshadows. It's like he jinxed himself, its almost embarrassing.

Hamilton ran a business at 14. Now if you've ever been fourteen and you were like "i think i feel like running a business" literally shut up no one asked. I think this is impressive. When Hamilton was at least 14, the guys the owned Beekman and Cruger (it had a different name by this time but this one sounds cooler) just dipped and left Hamilton in charge. This was actually a pretty good decision, since Hamilton managed it well. There was also this one time where Hamilton told a whole captain of a ship who didn't perform up to standard, "Reflect continually on the unfortunate voyage you have just made and endeavor to make up for the considerable loss therefrom accruing to your owners." This man was so arrogant I wish I had his confidence. Yeah that was cool ig, but if I met teenage-Hamilton, I'd literally hate him.

Hamilton saved the president of his college. Ever the dramatic, Hamilton had a thing for suppressing mobs (though he was pretty much never successful). There was this one time at King's College where a mob formed to "talk" with the president of the university, Dr. Myles Cooper (by "talk" i mean make him into a tory bird). And, according to Who Was Alexander Hamilton? (this book gives me so much joy), "Alexander vowed to protect him [aww]... He stood up to the crowd, telling them that violence would only hurt their cause. He couldn't stop the crowd, but he delayed them long enough for Dr. Myles Cooper to escape in his nightgown," (Pollack and Belviso 27-29). This is a really sweet description of it, but Hamilton was probably calling the mob a bunch of insults and stuff, judging by how he later handled riots. Also, Cooper thought Hamilton was rallying the mob, so he was a complete jerk to Hamilton, but rightfully. Everyone, bully Hamilton. He's short and dead like an idiot.

Hamilton was really cool on the battlefield, don't @ me. Now, despite being a clumsy little gremlin and an absolute dork, Hamilton was a pretty good leader, and I guess veterans deserve to be recognized for their victories or whatever. At the battle of Princeton, one of my favorites, Hamilton had very big, cool guns, and did some cool stuff. "Returning to the final phase of the battle of Princeton, British infantry took refuge inside Nassau Hall, the building that housed the College of New Jersey. American artillery commanded by Capt. Alexander Hamilton [ya boy] was brought to bear on the college building... Washington was on the scene and noticed this young artillery officer who skillfully commanded his gun battery. The general would soon invite Hamilton to become one of his aides-de-camp," (Lefkowitz 92). Wow so cool moving on to Yorktown.

When the Americans were building their fortifications, two British fortifications were in the way. So rude. Consequently, Washington sent The Gay Trio, Lafayette, Laurens, and Hamilton, to uh, silence them. Hamilton pulled off a successful sneak attack, and won the battle swiftly, leading to the American victory in the battle of Yorktown, and therefore the war. "...Colonel Hamilton['s] well known talents and gallantry were on this occasion most conspicuous and serviceable. Our obligations to him, to Colonel Gimat [stan], to Colonel Laurens, and to each and all the officers are above expression..." -Major General Marquis de Lafayette. Lafayette is so nice I would marry him if he was alive and single and legal and not old as hell. Like omg he gave credit to everyone but himself that's so nice I'm such a simp for Lafayette. Anyway, Hamilton was cool too ig.

Hamilton caused the evacuation of Philadelphia like an iDIOT. So, after Brandywine (British victory), Washington sent Hamilton on a foraging mission in Vally Forge to get flour, horseshoes, and tomahawks (not quite as exciting as Yorktown). Well, our clumsy ginger rat got caught, and wrote to the president of Congress, John Hancock, "If Congress have not yet left Philadelphia, they ought to do it immediately without fail, for the enemy have the means of throwing a party [party rockers in the house tonight] this night into the city. I have just now crossed the valley-ford [Valley Forge], in doing which a party of the enemy came down & fired upon us."

Surprise, this turned out not to be the entire goddamn British army, it was just a few scouts sooo... let's just say Philadelphia wasn't happy. "Our Removal from Philad. Was owning to information that General Howe was crossing Schuylkill [River]... However tho' this Intelligence was from one of the General's family (Alexander Hamilton) it was not well founded & we wish we had not left Philad.," -James Duane. Yeeeaaahhh, that's awkward. Not the best way to get your name known in the capital, I must say.

Hamilton was possibly bisexual, and this is hardcore because I say so. Now, I'll add more quotes to this later, but basically heres my interpretation of the historical evidence and whatnot. Basically, Hamilton was a really closed off, cynical guy, since like everyone he ever loved died or left him pretty much, and he wasn't really the type to make and keep close friends; "...how little dependence is to be placed on treaties, which have no other sanction than the obligations of good faith, and which oppose general considerations of peace and justice to the impulse of any immediate interest or passion," (Federalist 64); It is a known fact in human nature, that its affections are commonly weak in proportion to the distance or diffusiveness of the object," (Federalist 73). Um, Mr. Hamilton? You're projecting your trauma on the government again.

Also, despite working with him for like twenty years, Hamilton really never got close to Washington, like at all. He even said to Laurens, "I have no friendship for him and have professed none," in regards to Washington, which is kind of mean. But he ALSO told Laurens:

"Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, it m[ight] be in my power by action rather than words [to] convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that till you bade us adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind and how much it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments and to keep my happiness independent of the caprice of others. You s[hould] not have taken advantage of my sensibility to ste[al] into my affections without my consent."

*mocking Hamilton* its YOUR fault that i love you and it was RUDE that you FORCED me to love you how DARE you you SUCK i love you uwu.

Also, at the top of that letter, someone mysterious (probably Hamilton's son) wrote, "I must not publish the whole of this," and Massey still thinks Hamilton was straight.

But yeah, that's about it. I had originally written more at the beginning, but I unfortunately lost the original draft, so I'll just settle for this. I hope you enjoyed, though, and maybe learned something or found a quote you needed or something. I did more research than I wanted to in one sitting for this, so appreciate it or I'll cry. Thanks love you <3

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sunaswife · 4 years ago

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Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: To be added to the taglist please send an ask. Comments and dms will be unintentionally ignored/forgotten. Also if you have sent an ask to be on the taglist. I am not ignoring you I add people onto the taglist when I update a new chapter! <3 love youuu

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter six

Suna was completely in shock and he was overwhelmed. He just froze. What can a man do when his ex tells him he is a father, let alone the father of two toddlers.

He immediately thought about the trauma you must have faced, being pregnant and alone. He also thought about how much he’s missed already, he wasn’t there for their day of birth, their first steps, first words, he’s already missed so many birthdays.

All he ever wanted was to be a father, especially to be the father of the children he made with the woman he was in love with. Was it truly a blessing or a curse?

Surely you don’t want to get back together and live like a perfect family behind a white picket fence. He’d have to learn how to push his feelings aside for these kids and share custody of them somehow. Before he could even speak you were walking away and he quickly turned.

Why aren’t his legs moving? What’s pulling him back? Is he afraid of this responsibility and commitment? Of course he is. He doesn’t want to be a shitty dad, will he be able to raise them correctly? How if he’s always busy training and practicing. All his free time is dedicated to napping.

His heart truly broke the second time ever when he saw those grayish eyes looking back at him with such hurt and betrayal. They screamed that they needed him. He didn’t know how but he felt it. He decided that he was going to take a step and work things out with you. Maybe not romantically but he really wants to be in his kids life.

“After all this time and trouble I went through. You’re gonna let her walk away again?” Atsumu’s annoying voice filled the silent hallway. “Fucking bastard.” Suna seethed and turned with a glare. Osamu knew his brother fucked up and decided to be cautious in case Suna decided to land a few punches on his brother like the last time Atsumu has pissed off Suna.

But as Atsumu braced himself for a comeback or for a fist to meet his face he was met with Suna’s back as he ran to catch up with you. When Suna turned the corner he saw the staff parking lot and he began to run even faster.

If you leave it’ll be too late.

When he made it in the parking lot he stopped and used his height to his advantage and he looked around. He couldn’t see you anywhere. “Y/N!” He called outloud and his voice echoed. “Y/N!” He repeated. He was about to continue walking through when a car backed up and quickly breaked so that they wouldn’t run over the man. You looked through your mirror and saw Suna standing there and looking around like an idiot.

Your heart clenched yet you felt butterflies at the same time. He came, not for you but for the kids. You really hoped and prayed that he would come, and he did. You parked your car and you got out. He sighed in relief and neared you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I want to be in their lives I really do.” He exclaimed.

“It’s fine, Rin. I’m glad you want that.” You smiled softly.

For a moment he got lost in your eyes, and yours in his. It probably lasted less than a minute yet it felt like a eternity. Neither of you could turn away or say something else. It was comfortable and warm.

All of a sudden your phone rang and your finally blinked and turned away to answer your phone. “Did suna find you?” Jamie immediately asked. “Uh we were talking just now....” you said awkwardly and he stood awkwardly as well. “Ok good if not I was going to give him your number.” She sighed in relief and you rolled your eyes. “Alright I got to go, the kids have school in the morning.” You said and you both hung up.

“So I would love to stay and chat..ya know about the kids but they’re asleep already and they have school.” You mumbled. “No it’s fine I completely get it. School is important...are you available tomorrow? It’s off season for me so I don’t have any rough practices, only gym. I want to talk with you before meeting the kids.” He said and you nodded. “I’ll text you when to come over when I get home.” You told him and he nodded. You both exchanged numbers but Suna didn’t really seem that satisfied.

“Be safe. Text me when you guys get home safe.” He said and his eyes widened. “Okay, I will.” You smiled softly and he saw as you entered your car. You slowly pulled out and you drove away.

“Tsumu has her social media in case you’re curious.” Osamu spoke up causing Suna to jump. “What the hell dude, don’t just scare me like that.” He placed his hand over his chest and Osamu laughed.

“Come on, let’s go.” Osamu said and Suna nodded and walked away.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” You muttered and slapped yourself as you drove. Your kids were already asleep so they couldn’t hear you having a mental breakdown on your way home. “Mommy you said a bad word.” Akira pointed out and you glanced at the mirror. “Sorry about that. Don’t repeat it okay?” You asked and she nodded. “I know I know.” She mumbled and look at her signed volleyball with a bored expression. “Is daddy going to be in our lives, now?” She asked and you sighed softly.

“Well we talked and it sounds like he wants to be there for you and nii-chan..he’s going to come over tomorrow while you’re at school so we can talk like adults. Then when you come home he’ll be there to hang out with you guys and you guys can get to know eachother.” You said hopefully.“I don’t like him. Why couldn’t Sakusa or Atsumu be our dad. Even that guy you were with earlier with the suit is fine. But dad is a jerk. He made you cry.” Rini huffed and your eyes widened, were they awake the whole time?

“Hey, I know you don’t know him but your shouldn’t disrespect your father like that. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have had you guys. You two are the best things that has ever happened to me. You’re a Suna, once you get to know your dad I know you’ll be proud that I put your last name as Suna not Kageyama.” You told him and he scowled.

“Can you tell us more about dad?” Akira asked and you nodded. “What do you wanna know?” You asked. “Why did you fall in love with him.” Rini immediately asked, “Well he was sweet and funny, he loved anime and we were in the same class. He also taught me how to love volleyball again after my grandpa died.” You said smoothly. “What position did he play? Did he go pro?” They asked. “He was a middle blocker and he was really good. He still is a middle blocker and yes he is pro.” You said and Rini gasped. He’s more of a middle blocker type of fan. And Akira prefers setters. Even when you or Tobio teach them volleyball. They choose those positions.

The whole drive they asked about him and you answered the best you could, you can’t tell them everything but they were satisfied and they had a better understanding. They did get upset with you for not telling Rin that he was a father since the beginning but they understood that he broke your heart and you didn’t really want to see him.

When you got home you texted Rin that you arrived. You quickly bathed your kids. Dressed them in their pajamas and read them a script from the new anime you’re going to be on. (They liked listening to the scripts rather than bedtime stories)

After reading three pages they were already knocked out and you gave them a kiss. You fixed Akira’s fox plush in her arms and made you way to Rini’s bed. He was hugging a green piggy with a crown from the angry birds game and the moon made his face glow. You stood there in shock and you imagined second year Rin sleeping like that with the pig plush with the crown that reminded him of you.

You quickly rubbed your eyes to see second year rin turn back into five year old Rini. “I need some wine.” You muttered and kissed his cheek and fixed his blanket. You took out the phone from your pocket as you made your way to the bathroom to take off your makeup and start your nightly routine.

You chuckled but quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. Why was it so easy to text Rin again after all this time. Isn’t it supposed to be awkward? Why are you so comfortable?

You quickly typed an awkward goodbye and he scratched his head confused but replied goodbye as well. He really wanted to continue talking to you more.

After you changed into your pajamas and finished your nighttime routine you made your way to the kitchen and you grabbed the half full wine bottle.

You held it to your chest as you made your way to your office/studio and began reading the script and answering some emails involving the character you’ll be portraying for the new anime. You celebrated a few weeks back when you got the offer and sighed thinking about this certain character.

You’ve read the manga already but it wouldn’t hurt to re read it to get a better feel of the characater right? You took a sip from the wine bottle as you found the first book of the manga. In your endless shelves of books.

“Alright Emma let’s go on an adventure.” You sighed and began to read The Promised Neverland.

Also don’t forget that I love you and you’re worth it <3 Idk who needed to hear this today :)

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#haikyuu suna #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarō #miya atsumu #suna x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #suna smau #suna au

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batarella · 4 years ago

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3 birds 1 stone - RED

Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

WORDS: 7791 WARNINGS: Sexual Content, Mentions of Trauma

MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

-----

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

- Great Expectations, Charles Dickens

You:

“Y/N?”

On peaceful days should there be chaos to be expected. With peace does not come promise. A flower with blooming red petals would eventually wilt, despite all else telling it not to. That same blooming flower would die the same from other natural, unnatural causes, like a wind too strong for it to hold onto its stem or a butterfly that came too late for its pollen.

But when peace was current, something you could see right before you knowing it wasn’t to last, it wasn’t much because of the artist you were why you’d resort to capturing that peace onto your canvas and make it last forever.

Two artists, that was. Someone joined you in your endeavor that day. Not so much of a student as he were a companion. An equal, perhaps.

Damian didn’t let his squinting eyes from where he placed the tiniest round brush on, the fabric that turned blue at his touch. You merely hummed at his call of your name and didn’t look to him as well.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

Two easels set up at the manor’s back porch angled just right for most of the city skyline to be seen. It was far too small to be the focus, but everything else, the valleys that surrounded it, the actual forests going against the concrete ones, if you managed to get it right, you might want to keep this one for yourself.

Your thoughts complete left all that matter, however, when Damian asked you, “It’s a question about sex. More than one actually.”

“Oh.”

Not what you thought.

You might have had a lymph node in your neck, but still you nodded.

“Alright then. What do you want to know?”

He was painting the clouds. Didn’t even look the slightest bit uncomfortable. Good, you guessed.

“How old am I supposed to be before having it?”

Some wordless mutter rolled out your tongue at that. Eventually, the answer just came right out of you.

“Other than being of age, it really depends if you’re emotionally ready for it, Damian. If you know you’re not ready, nothing should push you to do it.”

“How do I know when I’m ready?”

That same calmness, the one that steadied your often shaking hands, allowed you to create the perfect cone for one of the hilltops at the horizon. You marveled over it for a while.

“When your doubts are encompassed with everything else,” you said. “When you know about what comes after.”

A dimming yellow sun, over at the far end. It was that sun, you told yourself, that was making those words fall of your lips. And not at all this series of resurfacing memories.

“When you meet the right person,” you told him.

You saw from your side eye how that remark made Damian stop with his brush. He set it onto its holder, placed his hands on his knees. “Other people don’t wait for that last one,” he said. “Do they?”

“It’s always different for a lot of people. Sometimes, they could only ever do it with people they love. Sometimes, it doesn’t even matter.”

“When I have sex with someo-“

You gave him a dirty look.

“When I’m a lot older,” he scoffed. “And I want to engage in the act of coitus.”

“Coitus?”

“How do I know they’re right? They’re the right person at that moment, then suddenly the next, they’re not.”

You reached over his easel to grab his brush, handing it back as you pointed at a raven that landed on one of the trees. It urged him to continue.

“You ask yourself then. If things won’t go the way you’d have wanted with that someone, would you regret ever doing it with them at all?”

“Obviously,” he snorted. “I wouldn’t want to waste my time.”

A bright smile, just as you settled the green of the wilting grass. Not so much was it green as it were this brownish orange, with it still cold enough for you to wear a sweater this uncomfortable when you’d have wanted your hands free.

“Is it really this…” he did some kind of motion with his hands. “…milestone in your life that’s supposed to be so important?”

“Wow, you’re really asking the right questions here, kid.”

That nickname made him snarl, back to his canvas. It took you a while, having to look to the sky for some kind of answer that wasn’t going to mess his head for the rest of his life.

“I used to think it wasn’t,” you said. “Sometimes, it’s only as important as you make it. It’s all up to what you believe.”

You turned your brush over just the right circle, which made of the red petals of a rose on one of the bushes that first greeted the day after months of a long winter.

Then there was this sinking. Something within.

“But your first time, at least. It should be with someone you love,” you said. “You’ll find that a lot of things will be easier for you.”

He seemed satisfied with that. Thankfully. He didn’t look so traumatized just yet.

Then he asked you one that no longer was so easy to think about.

“Was your first time with someone you loved?”

And you thought, with how everything suddenly weighed, not just your head or your hands but the whirring air, the leaves that danced along to it, the flowers still so young into their bloom, the misty clouds, the light, the brush on your hand and the paint on its tip.

What wasn’t so heavy, that is, was your voice.

Because if anything surprised you that day, more than the questions and the apparent peace, was how easily the answer came out of you.

Easy, because it was true.

And it was true, because when you lied, your clammy hands would be stuck to your back, shaking just as much as your eyes would be frantic and searching for something that wasn’t there.

But your voice was as light as your hands were calm and dry, your eyes fixated on the beautiful sight of the city and nothing else.

“Yes,” you said. And with it, came a smile that lasted for days.

Jason:

Two thousand dollars sounded a lot more inviting after a failed drug raid, not so much after the seeing all the evening gowns and diamonds and Bruce using his almighty charm with investors in sharp-needled stilettoes.

He did not, for his own sanity’s sake, want to sit through any of it, not even for a whole inheritance from the enterprise. Nope. Not even ten million dollars was worth putting on this god-awful suit poking through his neck like a knife, a jacket supposed to fit but had popped off one of the buttons, and of course, his hair. Swept back. Ruled over by mounds of gel and whatever it was the rest of his brothers had on. They all looked like elves in a Christmas workshop assembly line with the red tie over his chest.

Whatever trouble would happen, they’d call him. Now that they’ve blocked off his room, however, he came to not much resort.

The manor’s pool, to his luck, was unguarded. Unused for the last few months, but still clean.

Whatever silence was, and whatever silence could be, it was just that when he shut the door behind him, not bothering to latch on the lock, and turned on one of the lights, the purple and blue ones that shone from underneath the pool’s floor, like some magical lake that would speak to him in rhymes, maybe hand him a sword floating on a lily pad, but not even that was enough to impress him. As if anything impresses him still.

He stood by the poolside, hands in his suit pockets. Audibly he cursed that he forgot to bring a cigarette pack, but even that thought didn’t last long enough to bother him too much.

Jason stood there, right by the water, and watched the lights change like they told much of a story.

Something. Anything, to intrigue him.

Anything to make him feel again, to interest him, to cry out to him and actually hold his attention long enough for it to not be whisked away from his mind by his own hands because thinking or feeling was too much work.

But even those very lights, that didn’t seem so bright at all, were silent. The same silence for so many months.

He wanted noise. He wanted to hear again. But nothing, nothing was loud enough for him anymore. Someone could be screaming into his head and so much of it would disperse before it even reaches his ears at all, much less his brain. It wasn’t that he was being dumb, though that would be quite the reason.

But it was that nothing was bright enough anymore.

No one was attractive, or intriguing, or entertaining. Not by a mile.

Nothing. He cared about nothing.

Everything, all except her.

And it had to be just that, no room so bright, no smile so true, then when it was with her.

He hated the truth, perhaps just as much as he hated the rest of the world. The only thing he didn’t hate was someone he couldn’t even be with, much less love. But here he was.

Some noise from the door he came in from. He should have locked it. Now someone else was here.

More so did he wish that when he turned and saw who it was.

“Here?” Y/N’s shoes against the empty ground. That, he heard. Fuck him. “Really?”

“They closed off my room.”

She looked really pretty, lipstick on her already red lips, jumpsuit dragging along the tiles and her hair down her back. And she didn’t stop walking until she was right by his side, much to his dismay. Still, he didn’t move. Though god forbid he allow himself another look after the first one.

“You’re just gonna stand here and stare at the water?”

“Better than that shitshow outside.”

“Every party’s a shitshow for you.”

“Finally, one of you caught on.” He shifted his arms as if he had a drink he was holding, which he didn’t. He needed one badly.

“Then why accept the job?” she shrugged. “You could have just said no.”

He didn’t expect her to look at the water like it were at all interesting.

But suddenly, the lights from underneath didn’t seem so dull anymore.

Because even having to swim through the lavas of literal hell, I’d leave the comforts of isolation if it means you’d be anywhere within the room.

“Two thousand dollars,” he said.

“Ah.”

Everything did get easier to understand, once he stopped with the moping and the denial and actually allowed that stupid little voice he hated to speak up loud enough so he’d listen to it.

“Maybe you’re right,” she laughed. “The water actually is a lot more interesting.”

Right then, he allowed himself a second, subtle look. At her face. The thin straps over her shoulders that laid so well against her skin. Her hair she’d purposely made unruly but still styled enough to be classy.

The next thing to notice were her hands. They weren’t shaking, though they weren’t unmoving either. Her thumbs were rubbing over the backs of her palms, much like fidgeting her fingers would as if she were nervous. But there shouldn’t be anything to be nervous about. Nothing he could see, at that.

But after a look at her hands, it was her eyes that told him the whole story of her trailing thoughts, thoughts that maybe she didn’t know about as well.

Three years since she’s last stepped into a pool, since she’s felt that much water around her, dance along every bit of her skin when she’d push through the waves and move about as if she were floating, or flying, suspended from the ground and not have a string to hold her up.

She wanted to. He could see that. But it was doubtful that she’d admit to that. She’d never admit to that, not when it would only cause so much disappointment when she’ll ultimately cower away.

But her wanting to swim made him want to swim.

Some first step. To have someone to help her. He could be that someone.

Not even thinking for himself anymore. Jason was off to the benches at the side, and had taken off his tie and slid it off his neck.

“What are you doing?” she asked, just as he took off his suit jacket.

“I’m going in.”

She looked at him like she would to a troll that had climbed out of the sewers, though it wasn’t much out of disgust as it would be of disbelief. At least, he hoped it was. That wasn’t even to matter. He’d taken off his dress shirt before he even realized what he was doing at all.

Not something he’d do so suddenly, but then again, some of the most stupid things he’s ever done the past year were all for her sake. This didn’t surprise him at the least, not even the fact that the more rational part of him was watching him move like some hamster in a wheel stupidly trying to run away.

“You’re gonna swim?”

He unbuckled his belt. “Mind turning around?”

Her eyes flashed wide open, and she did as told.

Jason took off his pants, his shoes, everything save for his boxers. This wasn’t so stupid. It shouldn’t be.

He stepped into the pool, one foot first, then he slid in. He wanted to feel the cold. He wanted it to go against his heat and make him feel something and actually overwhelm him. And it was just that, that very feeling he’d long craved, when he spread his arms and let the water seep into his flesh.

Then he found himself smiling, just as he looked up and caught Y/N watching him do all that, lips between her teeth and beaming back so wonderfully bright, every part of him ached for that sight to last so much longer.

He sat back, waved through the water, inviting her even when he wasn’t asking her, telling her that this is all okay, that she was ready.

A million voices were screaming at him that none of this added up to just about every thought he could muster, that it wasn’t in him to just jump into the water, half naked and alone with the woman he loved. So many asking him what the hell he was doing, that all this was going to scare her away.

But it was, in fact, in him to know what went on in her head, as she longingly looked at the pool like it were so much more than that. It was in him to know that there’s so many more steps in this staircase of healing, to being that very person she’d sought out to be, away from the incident, who she no longer was, and never has been.

Jason swam over to the side of the pool, at the side where she stood.

And with that, a smile so beautiful, she crouched over and set her legs to the side so she could sit on the ground. Her hand was too near from where he laid his arms, but he didn’t reach for it. He just watched as the droplets that fell from his skin onto the ground nipped at her fingers.

“Is it cold?”

His voice was low and husky. “Yeah…”

“Is it nice?”

Jason looked to the wall behind her and laughed. “The water’s great.”

She hummed.

Her hands. Something about them. He couldn’t look away. Like they were so much more than her soft fingers and her gentle touch. With his chin buried onto his folded arms, he kept looking.

Not from her hands that were reluctantly reaching for the water’s surface, shy, bashful even, like it would sting her if she inched too close. Y/N stretched out her fingers and touched it, enough to drench just the tip of it, then she twirled it about to create wonderful ripples that waved to his body.

Jason reached over to hold her wrist, stopped just in case she were to pull away, but she didn’t pull away.

Y/N’s eyes were on him, just as silent and curious, and he felt her relax.

He led her hand further into the water, deeper, colder. He felt the hair on her skin stand, bumps over her pores. She was breathless, over something so small. He pulled gently enough until the water reached up to her elbow.

Then the smile he earned out of her, the love he so wanted to earn as well, it was all he could see, with her toying with the water and swerving it about. Right then, he could hear everything. The droplets that danced, the splashes against their skin, her subtle laughter, her teeth over her lips. He heard it all, and it was beautiful, so much more than songs or tunes played by the most skilled hands over piano keys.

If he could just let himself watch her, for longer than he hoped, he’d fall deeper in love than the depths he’d already fallen into, and had tried, relentlessly, to escape from, but couldn’t. Denial didn’t help much, but neither did admittance. He was stuck. And if only things weren’t so hard, he wouldn’t dare complain. Not when that very woman he loved was this beautiful.

She drew her hand away, her other one soothing the damp skin and ruining her jumpsuit with the water, which she didn’t even care about.

He wasn’t even thinking anymore. His heart open and his mind shut off. From how she sat, her ankle was exposed, and it was close enough to the water to feel the splatters but not enough to get wet.

Still, without a word, Jason cupped his hand, drew a bit of water up to the surface.

Then he played those drops right onto her skin, close to her feet where her shoes were strapped around. She clenched her toes at the cold, but she seemed to have liked it. He did it again, the droplets falling from his fingers, until her skin was stiff from the air so cold with it drenched.

That’s when she sighed, went on to stare at the little waves he’d created.

“I want to go in.”

He backed away from the pool side, waved his arms about to show her further that it was safe, and wonderful. Then he nodded at her. “If you think you’re ready…”

He saw her throat hitch, but it wasn’t out of doubt.

“I’m ready.”

He didn’t even have to try so hard to show her that everything she was going through, right then, he knew every second of what it was like. His face was soft, his look on her was soft, every bit of him had to be soft for this to be easy on her.

Then things weren’t so soft anymore when she started pulling down her straps from her shoulders. He gulped.

“Could you uh,” she twirled her finger around, motioning that he turn the other way. He did.

It was, both to his fortune and of not, that the wall in front of him was a mirror, reflecting all that went on behind his back. Everything in him stopped, even the blood down his every vein, and with that he watched as she exposed her temple of a body, one he’d worshipped and cherished and made feel every ounce of a sensation there could be, and continue to dream about even with her no longer being there.

But she was here now.

You:

The hardest to take off weren’t the straps on your shoes.

But all you ever had to know, was that the one you were with, the one you were hopelessly in love with, was there to help you through all of this.

“Do you, uh,” Jason coughed. “Need some help with that?”

You knew he was watching. If you actually didn’t want him to watch, you would have gone to the other side of the pool and took off your clothes where there wasn’t a mirror in front.

“Yeah,” you said.

As his eyes laid on you, relaxed, calm, just as you remembered he once watched your body so bare, with just a strapless bra over your chest and seamless panties, what contrasted the very cold that stemmed from the water was the burn underneath your flesh, the burn in your chest, the burn on your face and every nerve ending there was. Every nerve ending.

Suddenly you were limbless when he swam over to you, right in front from where you sat at the poolside, and his fingers were on the skin of your thighs, both of them. The water from his skin, falling and absorbing into your own. A sensation in itself.

You unlatched your leg, and he pulled it off and set it to your side.

Now, you were bare.

Jason was looking up at your eyes, however, and not at anything else. Not at the parts so incomplete. Not on places so ugly. As if you were so beautiful. And from that look alone, you started to believe that you were.

One at a time.

With his hands held out, you let him take your right leg, the one covered in burns and healed stitches, but still with toes and skin at all, and carefully, laid it into the water.

It was cold. Colder than even ice. But god, was it so heavenly.

Now, the other.

Jason, from what you could tell, tried not to look nervous just as you were, but you both smiled, and that was all there is to it to make you step into that very threshold once so frightening.

Your left leg, ending just three inches below your knee, dipped into the water’s surface.

You were here.

You were free.

You could feel the cold, the water, the waves, and the rush up to your head.

“Take your time,” Jason breathed, and his voice was all the more wonderful with everything else you could feel.

Any more, and the tears might start to defy your efforts.

He was as gentle as you knew him to be, and with that, it urged you on. You wanted to be the freest version of yourself. You wanted to be in the water with him, and hold him.

“Jason-“

“I’m here.”

You slid off the poolside, and he was there to hold you up before you could even think to move. His warm hands were so different from how cold the water was, but as equally burning as the heat that spurred everywhere else. They held your waist, and you did not want them to move away at all.

“It’s okay,” he said, with his grip still strong. “I’ll let go only if you tell me to.”

So you didn’t tell him to.

Your hands, already they found their ways resting on top of his shoulders, holding onto him a lot firmer than you actually needed to. Your right leg touched the floor. Your left one waved about in the water. You looked down. They were there. They were alright. They didn’t sting, nor hurt, nor did you feel so exposed that you’d never want to step into any light again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you frantically nodded, still looking down at the prettiest lights that shone beneath you and Jason’s feet.

You were laughing. “This is so great…”

“It is…”

With you so distracted marveling over the water, he thought you wouldn’t notice if his hands rubbed over your waist, circled them tighter, enough for his fingers to rest delicately on your spine. He was holding you so tenderly, yet you could feel how much he was holding back. And you just went on pretending not to notice.

“I want to go there.”

You pointed at the middle of the pool, where the lights were centered on, littered about to form this spiral that stretched out like a firework that burst into the sky.

“Alright,” said Jason. “Hold on, okay?”

You nodded, and again that wonderful sensory outburst that were supposed to overwhelm you, but didn’t, when Jason led you both to the center of the pool, the waves flowing against your flesh and skin. Oh, was it so beautiful. The water, touching your every bit, it was so much more than you remembered, and so much better than you’d have imagined.

As you reached that very center, and with you having to take in both the feel of this flight, the breath that had escaped you, the lights, ones you had to watch from afar, were now beneath and around you, like you stood right in the core of a star that exploded, a supernova, right at the flares and the burst of light and sound, just as it was on your flesh.

You were swimming on stars, on clouds, on a bed of petals so sweet. You were afloat in this wonderous space, the sun so close but not burning you with its light. There were tears. Wonderous tears. Ones you couldn’t hold back with your heart in full and your chest in this tug that pulled it in all directions. You splayed your arms out, and tilted your head back, enough for your hair to be dipped into the water. And you closed your eyes. Everything. Everything. This was everything.

You looked back up, and no one, not even the moon itself in the midst of a dark sky, had ever looked at you the way Jason did.

Oh god, how you loved him.

Then that music, one that was playing so sweetly the moment you stepped in, it blurred out when you circled your arms around his strong neck.

He kept with his promise and went on to keep holding you so close, closer, until your chest met his so solid, all the cold from the once freezing water was whisked away.

Fingers tangled onto his hair, breaths battling as they met in the space in between, a space that shouldn’t have been there at all. His own hands trailed down to your hips, further down until it made you jolt.

Then your legs were around him. You were flying, so high up in the sky not even the clouds would reach you.

He pushed back your hair.

You didn’t know at what point your lips had met, your warmth uniting into one, single flame, but everything was so much of the speed of a moving picture, that none of time, nothing of the sort that wasn’t him and him alone, ever even mattered anymore.

Jason:

What was it called, when something unfolded before you, and everything happened so fast even when you’d try to make it slow, flashed into this bright, white light, and suddenly you couldn’t move, nor say anything to protest?

That wasn’t even much to think about anymore.

Everything was paced, so slow, slow enough that he could feel every movement she made, every flick of her fingers, every sound that escaped her lips. It heightened to so much more than it actually was. Those months, where he no longer felt even just a splinter, now all those feelings collapsed into the now.

He was kissing the world, his world, and so much of her beauty manifested into this glorious flow. He was hungry, digging into her skin as if there were more to be undone. His lips were no different. Over her lips, her jaw, her neck, licking over her shoulder and back over to her lips where she tasted the sweetest.

She did not hold back either, and he didn’t want her to. She pulled on his hair enough to make it hurt and so perfect was that pain, the growl that came out of him so animalistic, even more so did he starve. Starve for her. He wanted to taste every bit of her.

And so he did, pushing her to the edge of the pool and turning her around so no longer could anything restrict his shaking touch, on every part of her that would spark a fire engulf larger than the one within his chest. He pushed himself inside her, over and over until it hurt.

He couldn’t hold back, couldn’t hide behind this mask of gentleness any longer. For that same gentleness and touches so soft, only could be when his efforts to conceal what his desires truly manifested into, and it comes with deep want, so much lust, fire that burns, skin being drawn in red by the hungriest nails and teeth that dug into flesh. His hips started to hurt, so did his hands. It was starting to hurt her, too, with there being marks on just about every sweet spot there was. But it was just those marks that pushed them both further into fulfillment.

His name, Jason, the most beautiful thing to ever escape her lips, his hands holding her still, holding her neck and squeezing just enough to let her know that only he could ever give her that perfect mix of pain and gratification so immense, that only he could touch her and make it last, and for the whole of the night, his name was the only thing she could ever cry out.

You:

Oh.

Oh, was it all so wonderful.

The strain, the pull of every muscle, the purple marks on your neck, the bruises on your hips, the aches down your cunt, and every bit inside you, still with the many releases, bursts of avalanches and numbs that faltered into lingering buzzes, and eventually this humming that continued like some song you couldn’t remember. Wonderful. Magical. Even if you could think straight, which you couldn’t do much with what happened, you couldn’t describe it with enough justice.

You’ve never slept so well in so long, your head up far beyond the clouds, into space and the stars above, the gas giants that make you even lighter. With not even gravity to pull you down, you were soaring up above.

In some idealistic perfection, a world without the cruelties you knew all too well, it would be that you’d wake up, satisfied at that, to a bed that wasn’t empty, next to a man you loved whose body was filled with the deepest scars, and that would have been the end to the story and all else, the chaos most especially, would cease.

But as it were as cruel as it were kind enough to grant you that moment of bliss, you woke up, still with the sky so dark, and your arm outstretched for a naked body no longer there, but instead you found that very body already with his clothes on, moving as quiet as he possibly could outside the bed.

“Jason?” you sighed, then you sat up holding the thin sheet up to your chest.

Jason was startled. Wasn’t expecting to wake you. Or that, he was trying not to.

“Why are you up?” he asked. He was in a hurry.

And his face, from what you could read, it told you everything you needed to know.

“Are you leaving?”

Again? You wanted to say.

But even if you did, his response wouldn’t have changed. For the better, that is. Because he didn’t have much a response at all.

“Go back to bed.”

“What’s going on-“

“I’m sorry.”

He zipped up his pants, put on his jacket and just like that he was headed for the door.

His face was too grim and blank for him to leave with intention to come back. His hands were too fast reaching for the door. His voice, too low as if he were hiding something from eventually spilling. No. He was leaving. And he wouldn’t want to be found. Not after that look he just gave you before he opened the door.

You took all the sheets and reached for his shoulder. Already, you were shattered. Already, the weight had befallen, on your arms and your chest. He was so stiff that even to just turn, it was hard for him to do.

But you held his face, really held him so he wouldn’t dare pull away. The air had been sucked out of that very room and so much of your body would have broken apart, fallen to the ground and no one would be there to pick them up.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whispered, pushing your forehead against his so your breaths would meet again. “Please, be with me-“

“Y/N -“

“What did I do?” You met his eyes.

“Nothing. Please. We’ll talk about this later-“

“When?”

He sounded so solid, so unaccepting of anything to be hurled at him.

“I have to go-“

“You’re not coming back, are you?“

“I said we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t walk away from me-“

He didn’t even let you finish.

He was strong, and he never used that against you. But that time, he did. He grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you off him. In less time than you would have hoped, he was gone.

The man you wanted. The one you loved. The one you chose.

Wouldn’t choose you.

Another of the hurt, that descent, when you’ve slipped into this hole so familiar yet the pain wasn’t something to get used to. Tears on the sheets, broken, so many of them spilling out of you and onto the floor, your skin, the bed.

You can’t shatter again. You can’t break any more.

This was the choice you made. No one told you it was all going to be easy. That all this would be handed over just as you called the moment you wanted it. No. Not with him.

Go after him.

Tell him everything.

Go after him.

You grabbed everything you got, put on your clothes and rushed out that door before you were even fully awake enough for your eyes to adjust to the light. Straight down the stairs, out into the garage where you knew Jason parked his bike. He wasn’t there. He already left.

So you took one of the keys that were hung on the wall, started up one of Bruce’s many cars and drove out of that manor.

You weren’t going to let go. You’d chase him if you had to.

You knew this would happen, the moment you realized you loved this asshole. You saw this coming. And you were prepared.

You were as fast as if you flew, if you were no heavier than a speck, a particle that would let even the flap of a butterfly’s wings change its course and move so fast, no one would have seen it.

You called him. As you drove and reached the city, you did not stop calling. Five. Six. Ten times. He didn’t answer.

Once you reached his apartment, seeing that his bike wasn’t where he’d parked it, you called again.

At the fifteenth call, he picked up.

“Jason, for the love of god-“

Your hands were shaking as it held the wheel, and nothing, not even the rain pattering onto the windshield would have calmed you. Everything happened just as fast as the rest of the night went on. And here you were, at the end, and you tripped just as you saw that very end of the dark tunnel.

“Y/N…” he said. And his voice a lot softer than it had been just then.

“Please, just talk to me.”

“We’ll talk. I promise you, we will-“

“I want to talk to you now-“

“You think you know what you want,” he said. “But you don’t. Give it time. You’ll change your mind.”

You slammed your fists against the wheel and the horn blew under the impact.

“You said you’d never make decisions for me-“

“If this is your decision, you need me to make it for you.”

So close. So close to driving away and leave him for the rest of forever.

But it wasn’t close enough.

You turned to the screen right by the car’s dashboard, pressed onto the button to turn on Bruce’s many trackers. There was a red dot.

‘No,’ you whispered. ‘No, you won’t.’

Jason:

“I’m sorry…” he pleaded. “I’m so sorry… but I promise you. Everything will get better.”

Up a rooftop, where he thought she’d never find him. It was hard to ignore the quake in his voice, his hands, how every word he spoke was like driving a knife down his throat, neck, and chest.

“No,” she screamed, and her cries hurt more than that very knife ever would. “It won’t. You’re a coward. What are you gonna do? Leave for another four months?”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me it is!”

“Y/N.”

He let the skyline distract him, the buildings that soared up, higher than he could ever stand, then locked his eyes onto one of them so they wouldn’t defy him and break apart.

“Whatever it is you think is going on, it isn’t. I already told you how I felt. Why didn’t you just lis-“

Of course, she’d find him.

To be frank, even if it were one of the other safe houses he’s picked that wasn’t on any map of the city, she was bound to find him. He left her at Wayne Manor, for fuck’s sake.

The minute he heard her footsteps, coming in from entryway, he stopped talking, breathing even, and put his phone down. Trackers. Of course. Bruce had five of them on him at least.

He turned around.

“You actually fucking followed me-“

“Why?”

She wore the same thing from that night, the same suit he’d lustfully watched her take off, straps down those very shoulders, baring herself. Her hair, up in this beautiful mess, makeup no longer there and her face beautifully bare. Still a sight, she was, a sight he no longer wanted to get lost in.

“Why is this so hard for you-“

“Because it doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?“

“Because, I-“

Every word out of him, a fire that couldn’t be put out. Flames uncontrollable, and his breath nothing but encouraging winds.

“Because you’re gonna wake up one day and realize I’m not any of my brothers… I was the one who never stood a chance,” he said. “No one would think you’d want me, out of the many other things you could have had. One day, you’re gonna realize that I’m not what you wanted-“

“I love you-“

God, it was everything he ever wanted to hear.

“You had Dick and Tim. They’ve loved you for so long… And you’re actually choosing the one guy who doesn’t?“

“You’re lying.”

“Am I?”

Another step forward from her. Another step back from him. He can’t stand too close or all this would be as close to the world’s slowest, most painful death.

“Nothing could have pointed you to me. Everything was telling you to-“

“For fuck’s sake, stop listening to everything else and just listen to me.”

A struggle at that.

But he’s never been so cold.

It wasn’t even from the wind from such a height, if there were any at all. But he was shivering, his teeth were gritting. Everything he said, he didn’t even mean. And all the more was it excruciating to hear himself say it all.

But he could listen. Even if it’d hurt. He’ll listen.

She was crying. To just reach over and hold her hand. He couldn’t even do that.

“Three years ago,” she whispered into the cold night air. “I was at the manor. Two weeks out of the hospital. I was just learning how to walk again but that day was hard on me. I couldn’t make a step. I was on my bed, and I was just staring at the ceiling because I couldn’t get out of it.”

It pained him all the more, when he knew nothing of what was to come to him, that all this was going to catch him before he’d even realize what it was.

“You never visit me at the manor but that day, you were there. I don’t even remember what for, but you stopped by and you caught me reading A Christmas Carol because it was the one book in my room that I actually liked. Because I couldn’t go down to the library and get more, and I didn’t want to ask from anyone.

“We ended up talking about Dickens. I didn’t know shit, but I remember you talking about him like he was your uncle and I just listened to you. I told you I liked reading his books. You said you’d bring me more when you’d come back. Three days later, you did. You got me Great Expectations.”

Great Expectations.

Why can’t he remember this?

“You left, and I read it that same night. That’s when I found a quote that you highlighted.”

Jason took a step back, away from her.

“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be.”

Everything. Everything that devastated, all suddenly came to place.

“The book was new. Store bought. The tag was still there. You bought it for me a day after you visited. Then you read it yourself and highlighted that quote.”

“How did you-“

“Remember that?”

She ignored the streaks down her skin, the droplets that fell down her neck.

“It was just a quote,” she shrugged. “It easily could have been nothing… but if I think of it differently now, it all makes so much sense.”

If he took another step back, he’d fall over the ledge.

He should have done that, now that she had walked close enough for him to get so lost into her face.

“If you loved me then,” you whispered. “Did you even know about it?”

This. This was worse than a fall.

He closed his eyes and everything fell through. The tears. The sobs. Everything. Because he did love her then. He’s always loved her since. But to admit it was close to writing his own death sentence.

This. This was death. And he’d happily jump back into that abyss.

“I didn’t want to believe it…”

You:

You reached for his face and for once, he welcomed it.

“If you tell me to leave right now,” you swallowed. “I’ll leave. I’ll never look for you again.”

Even if it hurts, even if I’ll have to live without you. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you go.

His hands found your wrists but it was to hold you, not to pry you away.

“Do you love me?”

It wasn’t in his words.

It was how he said yes that made you soar past the birds and the thin air from above.

It was when he finally took a step forward, to hold you in place, to keep you from falling apart and keep you so close, that acceptance of what truly went on, the love you’ve long known about and continued to believe in, even when he didn’t believe in it himself. It was there. It was what moved you. You could have fallen in from one of the many spaces above and still, you would end up in his arms.

“Of course, I do…“

Just as the sun rose, to greet you both into this morning anew. So new a life, waiting for you to come welcome it. And you welcomed it with the widest arms. He kissed you, so tender and real. Up where the city could see you, where you wanted to be seen, only to be with him.

Epilogue

Jason:

One box would have been enough for his clothes. He didn’t have much anyway. But as it turns out, leather jackets aren’t exactly as compact as he’d liked.

“Where do you want me to put these?!”

She was in the bathroom. He saw her peak her head out from the door to look at the jacket he was holding up.

“I set up a new closet for you!” she cried out, then she went back to brushing her teeth. “It’s beside mine!”

“Got it!”

He took the boxes of clothes, set it just outside the closet which he’ll definitely get into after he deals with everything else. Moving wasn’t something he liked doing, even when he’s moved around a single city so much before his lease would have allowed him to.

But, this new apartment, her apartment, covered in paint and canvases and rags all over the place that nipped at his neat freakiness he’d soon have to overcome, he might actually stick around.

“What about this!?”

He held up his box of books.

“I emptied a shelf for you, too! It’s next to my sketchbooks.”

“Sketchbooks, sketchbooks…”

Her sketchbooks were all over the fucking place.

He found that shelf, at least. Just enough for all his books. That is, if the paint cans above wouldn’t collapse.

“Do you clean up even just a little?”

“Shut up. It’s organized mess.”

“It’s always organized mess with you artists…”

“What?!”

“Nothing!”

She stepped out the bathroom, in nothing more than just a thin shirt and pajama shorts, then she watched him fumble with the last of his boxes.

“And, uh,” he coughed. “Can I put these somewhere?”

The look on her face, playfully annoyed as it was pleasantly unsurprised, she wanted to laugh that he’d resorted to storing his whole arsenal of weapons in a single cardboard box.

“That floorboard over there,” she pointed. “I loosened it up for you.”

“You’re a doll, pretty bird.” Jason put the box on the floor, ran up to her and grabbed her by her thighs, hoisting her whole thrashing body up his shoulder.

Her screams turned to laughter, then he spun her around, slammed her into her own bed like it was a wrestling ring and held her down with a headlock.

Everything he’s ever thought how this would have ended wasn’t so much of a fraction of how it went. Never has he smiled for so many days, happiness without condition, love so pure, a life that no longer was filled of days he’d have to survive, and was now a life he wanted remember, love, and live.

This was how it ended.

And he never wanted it to end.

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MASTERLIST | 3 BIRDS 1 STONE MASTERLIST | BLUE | YELLOW

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