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inkykeiji · 3 years ago

Text

feels good to be running from the devil

anonymous said: imagine natsuo holding you in his lap while ur watching a movie with touya-nii and he’s sitting rather close but u ignore it, until u feel a big hand on ur thigh, tracing and trailing up, up, and up until he’s tracing ur clit through ur panties and natsuo, already knowing where tonight was headed, leans in to whisper against ur ear, “you’re gonna let touya-nii have his fun right? you’re gonna be good for me and let him play with you?”

characters: todoroki touya, todoroki natsuo

genre: smut

notes: hehehe this was really fun!!! it’s set in my sugar daddy natsuo AU! reader’s a lil bit of a brat and Big Bad Brother touya is mean as always!! | title cred: high by sir sly

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, pseudoincest, daddy kink, toxic/codependent relationships, degradation/dumbification, dacryphilia, frottage, pussy spanking

words: 3.4k

The large bay window that spans the far wall of the parlour is beautiful; pristine crystal and gilded wire that shimmers when the early golden beams of the rising sun stream through, the thin lace curtains casting intricate shadows across the ivory floor. You’ve come to know it intimately, that window, spending so much time cuddled up next to it, listlessly gazing out from it, that you know the way it rattles in its old metal frames when the wind rages, know the way it vibrates when plump droplets of rain drum and hiss against it, know the way the glass heats on those unusually sunny autumn days, or the way they fog with little clouds of condensation from your gentle breaths on especially chilly evenings.

Out of the seemingly endless rooms in Daddy’s mansion, this room has always been your favourite; so much so that Natsuo had agreed to hang a massive 4K television above the marble fireplace, just so you could spend more time here while he’s off doing work. Touya had grumbled about having to watch a film in a room that isn’t the theatre, in a room that isn’t even meant for leisure and entertainment in the first place, huffing under his breath about what the point of having a theatre is if you don’t use it, but baby gets what baby wants, always.

A deep pout has carved itself into your lips, glaring intermittently at the rain pelting against the crystal windowpanes you’ve grown so fond of.

It isn’t fair. The weatherman had promised oceanic skies clear of fluff and full of gold, and Daddy had promised you a trip to your favourite amusement park—begrudgingly, with Touya-nii tagging along—today being the first time he’s had a full twenty-hours off in what feels like an eternity.

But the weatherman was wrong, the weatherman had lied. Because the sky is draped in tumultuous strokes of dark greys that ripple and waver with each threatening growl of thunder, each sharp strike of veins of silver snaking through the mist.

It’s how you ended up here, snuggled on Daddy’s lap with a thigh carelessly thrown over Touya’s legs, under your favourite fluffy blanket with a bowl of buttersalt popcorn in your hands.

And Daddy has done everything in his power to keep that pout from souring your precious face, elegant coffee table sprouting anomalous pops of colour, ivory wood littered with piles of your favourite candies and chocolates, while large stacks of all of your favourite films and shows decorate the ornate rug blanketing the hardwood floor, his pretty platinum credit card thrown haphazardly on the couch cushion beside him, gleaming as it waits for your next request.

He had even asked if there was anywhere else you wanted to go instead, to your favourite luxury mall, or for an extravagant day treatment at your favourite spa, or for a decadent dinner at your favourite hotel restaurant—but you had refused all of them with a jutted lip and bleary eyes, a stomped foot and clenched fists.

It’s too bad he can’t bribe the weather. It appears money truly can’t buy everything.

But Touya—Touya had laughed, swiping a rough thumb across your cheek as he affectionately murmured out that you’re a spoiled fucking brat, sapphire eyes glinting in the dim light as he promised that you’ll find some way to have fun, he just knows it.

And maybe, he’s right.

It’s halfway through the second Legally Blonde that you feel them, the calloused fingers crawling along your leg. It feels nice, the tender caress of hardened fingertips against your smooth skin, body melting back into Daddy leisurely while sleep begins to weight your lids, a sigh slipping from between parted lips as you stretch your leg out further, spread your thighs open wider, allowing him room to move, allowing him freedom.

Yes, it feels nice, until those fingers begin slipping under the soft linen of your dress, climbing higher and higher with each rhythmic stroke until they’re just barely brushing the lacy trim of your silk panties.

At first, you don’t say anything, pressing your lips together and sucking on your tongue; at first, you think it’s an accident, anxiously glancing at Touya’s face and finding his stare glued to the television, face passive and features relaxed, figuring he must be too engrossed in the movie to notice just how high his fingers have crept.

Except then his fingers are sneaking between your thighs, up, up, up until his knuckle is scarcely skimming your clit, the unexpected motion forcing a sudden, vicious jolt of electricity through your veins, body trembling from the force of it.

Brows knitted and chin puckered, you look over at him sharply and find him still staring at the television, the cockiest, most arrogant smirk gracing his tattooed lips, pinprick pupils engulfed in swirling, sparkling sapphire, so magnificent as it ebbs and flows with his amusement.

He must feel your stare on his skin, because he glances at you from the corner of his eye a few moments later, gaze flicking down to your lap and then back up, tongue obnoxiously poking his cheek as he gives you a toothless grin.

It’s difficult to work up the courage to say something, unsure of whether or not you’ll get in trouble for ratting Touya out, or if you’ll get in trouble for permitting him to do as he pleases—Daddy’s rules don’t ever seem to apply to his cherished Touya-nii, but does Touya want Daddy to know?

This is the question that plagues your mind as his knuckle nudges your clit again, moving in the softest feather-light motions—up and down, back and forth—making it throb and pulse and want and need.

Your tummy flutters as he adds more pressure, desire breeding dazzling butterflies as your hips squirm, inching forward infinitesimally, viscous guilt pouring over the flapping wings like thick tar half a second later, gluing their appendages together and drowning them in sinful remorse.

“Daddy,” you whisper, voice wavering with uncertainty, wide eyes not leaving Touya’s.

“Mm,” Natsuo hums in response, oblivious and unconcerned. Terror tugs at the curves of your lips, slow and hesitant as you turn to stare at your Daddy, heart mutilating itself as it rams against ivory bone.

“Um—D-Da—Touya!”

The name slashes through the honoured endearment with a sharp gasp as two fingers suddenly clamp down on the sensitive nub and twist, bewildered gaze flying to the eldest Todoroki’s face as your thighs snap shut around his hand, a futile effort to stop the pinching.

It only takes Natsuo a moment to realize what’s going on, gunmetal eyes sweeping from your nails embedded in his forearm, to your trembling tight thighs, to Touya’s shit-eating grin, joining in on his brother’s snickering as large hands knot in the hem of your dress, tugging it up around your waist as he reprimands with a soft coax. “Open your legs, baby. Let Daddy see,”

“B-But—”

“It’s okay,” Natsuo hushes you in a sweet promise, thick fingers gentle as they pry your knees apart. “Let me see,”

It’s downright mortifying, head turning to nuzzle your face into Daddy’s shoulder as best you can, tiny spikes of embarrassment blurring your vision, each one a small spear slicing into your stinging eyelids as they squeeze shut.

“Oh,” Natsuo breathes, the word hot and heavy as it wafts over your bare skin. “Would you look at that,”

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

“I’ve never seen a more gorgeous sight in my life,” Daddy admits, and it sounds like a vow, an oath, a promise, his fingers digging into your supple flesh and tugging.

“Look at how swollen it is,” Touya murmurs, almost as if he’s in awe, a rough hand embellished with cuts and callouses sliding over your bare knee, curling under your leg and hitching it higher on his strong thigh, your calf pressed tightly against his groin. “C’mon baby, spread your legs nice and wide, show Daddy how swollen your little clit is,”

And, oh, it’s so embarrassing, vision clouding over with a pathetic film of tears as your heart shatters your ribs, sharp splinters of bone piercing your lungs, breath escaping in fractured wheezes.

“Oh, hush,” Natsuo coos tenderly, grip on your flesh easing up as his palms begin rub soothing circles into your hips, the inevitable familiarity of Daddy’s touch bringing you shreds of comfort. “Don’t cry, princess, don’t cry, you’re so gorgeous,”

“Such a fucking crybaby,” Touya breathes, but it comes out strained, clasp on your knee strengthening as he holds your leg in place, harsh denim beginning to chaff your skin as he ruts against your calf.

A whimper hitches in your throat, smushing your face against your Daddy again as scalding tears melt through your clenched eyelids, escaping down your soft cheeks and depositing traces of glittering salt in their wake.

You can’t bear to look, positive the humiliation of it all will embrace you in its fiery combustion, setting your entire body aflame as sharp sparks are sent sizzling through your veins.

You don’t need to look—you can feel how disgustingly wet you are, dainty silk molding to your folds and outlining such a cute little pussy; you can feel how pathetically empty you are, little hole fluttering around nothing any time Touya so much as grazes it, any time Touya prods and pokes and pushes with a knuckle or two, nudging just enough for you to feel it—a vacant promise saturated in hopeful anticipation; just enough for your cunt to throb greedily as it tries in sheer desperation to suck him in.

It has the most pitiful whines spilling from your lips, muffled by Daddy’s shoulder, hips twitching towards his touch as the pads of Touya’s fingers skim over your puffy clit in lopsided little patterns.

“Go on,” Natsuo encourages, and his voice is so soft, so sweet, the gentle command murmured into your hair. “Tell Niisan how good he’s making you feel,”

Your head is stuffed full of sensations—Touya’s hands on your clit and Daddy’s breath on your skin; the roaring thunder that competes with the rumbling in Daddy’s broad chest and the sharp flashes of lightning that catch on the thin ring of cobalt outlining Touya’s cavernous pupils—and it feels like so much, too much, an overwhelming overload of information and commands, brain finally short-circuiting as Daddy’s fingers hook in the plunging neckline of your sweet little dress and tug, baring your chest to them, a humble tell him, baby, hummed into your neck.

“N-Niisan,” you gasp out, back arching into Daddy’s touch, hips pushing towards Touya’s hand again. “Niisan, i-it—ah,”

And, really, it shouldn’t even be all that immense; but the teasing swipes of Touya’s fingertips against your swollen clit, and Daddy allowing it, endorsing it, as he grinds his hard cock against your ass and tweaks your nipples, makes it all feel so naughty, so forbidden, so incredibly illicit that it heightens everything—every flick and kiss and pet—hypersensitive body feeling like a strip of overexposed film.

A groan catches in Touya’s throat, rattling against his ribs as he swallows it back down. “Niisan, huh? Do you wish I was your big brother, too?” A ghost of a chuckle escapes his lips, hot breath infused with condescension forcing chills to pebble your skin. “You’re a sick little girl, you know that?”

The words curl around your ear in the wisp of a whisper, voice ridden with infinitesimal tremors—remnants of his laughter sewn into the sentence—as tattooed lips graze the cartilage in the gentlest caress, followed by a slick tongue tracing the dips and curves, sucking the appendage between gleaming ivory that bite hard enough to pierce.

Your head nods, then shakes, then nods again, a half-baked sob stuttering in your chest.

“Can’t make up your mind, sweetheart?” he purrs out with a soft tut of his tongue, fingers rubbing slow, hard circles into you, slick fabric aiding his gliding movements. “Doesn’t take much to make you dumb, does it, pretty baby? A little friction and you’ve gone fucking stupid,” a laugh pries past his lips, amusement caustic as it cuts through the thick atmosphere, concurrent with another strike of lightning twining through the dense clouds. “Wonder how fucking stupid you’d go from my cock, huh? Comatose, probably,”

A loud wail lacerates your throat, so harsh it tears through the flesh and leaves it raw and bloody, steady streams of crystalline drops staining your cheeks as your clit throbs at his words.

“Oh?” Touya snickers out breathlessly, two fingers rolling the sensitive bud between their fingertips. “You like that? Stupid little bitch,”

Mewling, you nod lethargically, head lolling lazily with the loose motion, cheek resting against his shoulder as you gaze up at him with glittering eyes and bitten-raw lips, slick-sheened with saliva.

“Touya-nii, Touya-nii,”

“Yeah, baby?” he coos gently, the term of endearment soaked in mockery, head falling forward to knock his forehead against your own, your noses nudging together. Another bolt of lightning forks through the sky, bathing him in incandescence, bright and blue like the protruding veins in his slim hands, wound around lithe bones and snaking under his skin as skilled fingers work. “That feel good? Huh? You like it when Niisan plays with your pussy?”

“Uh—Uh-huh,” you pant, still staring up at him through bleary, half-lidded eyes, head jerking a little in a poor imitation of a nod, clumsy and awkward as you babble senselessly, so close your lips nearly brush his. “Want Niisan to play with me all the time,”

“I bet you do, little slut,”

He finally releases the sensitive bud, pressing the coarse pads of his fingers to your clit and beginning to grind—up, down, left, right, repeat, gaining more and more speed with each loop through the routine.

Your thighs are starting to ache from the stretch, muscles quivering as you force them further apart, bucking pathetically into Touya’s touch as Daddy murmurs praises into your neck, words painted in thick strokes of gleaming saliva, punctuated by ivory bone that scrapes against the slick flesh, carving the sentiments in dark, deep indents of crimson and violet.

And it’s intoxicating in the best way, their combined scents encompassing you in their heady embrace, a contradictory mix of fire and ice—sweet campfire and spicy Marlboros and burnt hickory, mingling with fresh mint and tangy lemon and frigid blue raspberry—wafting over your body in thick opaque clouds, swirling and strangling as they envelop you in the eye of their storm.

They’re all you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell, feel, think; searing sapphire and guttural growls, sizzling sparks and frosty chills that shoot through your flesh with every touch and tease and twist, chasing the blood in your veins to scorch your stomach and glaciate your brain, organs encased in stifling soot and impeding ice.

Muscles coiled and sore, your entire body quakes with each repeat of Touya’s graceful pattern, concurrent with the roiling of the clouds overhead as shocks of quicksilver whiz through them. The shield of tears cast across you eyes thickens with each swipe over your clit, blur distorting your vision to nothing but a mess of light and shapes as it begins to drift out of focus.

“No, no, no,” Touya commands, voice sharp enough to slice through the thick ice that has glazed your mind. “Keep your eyes open, princess. Want you looking at me when you cum on my fingers,”

“Niisan,” Natsuo nearly whimpers, a total subordinate in his brother’s presence, his humping become almost desperate, uneven and uncoordinated in his haste, in his need. “Niisan, make her do it, make her cum,”

“Hear that, baby? Daddy wants me to make you cum,” he hums a little, irritatingly indifferent as he considers, like it makes no difference to him, like it doesn’t matter at all. “Do you think I should?”

Your head’s nodding before he’s even finished speaking, legs straining as far open as they can, trying in vain to rut against his hand. “More, more, please, Niisan, more,”

A sharp slap, sticky and wet, echoes out among the room, tangling with the fragmented yelp clawing at the back of your tongue. Large hands—one rough, one soft—keep your legs from snapping shut, movements fluid and swift, almost as if they belong to one entity, almost as if they share a singular consciousness, strong fingers branding brilliant blotches of azure and periwinkle into supple skin, minuscule galaxies stuffed full of their essence, of their ownership.

“Greedy girl,” Touya admonishes with a tutted tongue as if he’s disgusted, delivering another swift, harsh slap to your drenched pussy. “You’ll cum from whatever Niisan fucking gives you,”

The words are slow, languid as they flow effortlessly from his mouth, paradoxic to the blazing in his eyes as he glares at you, each word punctuated with another smack to your sensitive skin, each spank sending infinitesimal spikes of agony lurching through your body to chase after thorns of pleasure.

A wail shatters in your throat, lids blinking hard against the torrent of fresh tears, salty dewdrops garnishing spiked lashes, glistening daintily in the low light as they flutter.

“Don’t you dare look away from me,”

And he’s so fast, so smart, so scary in how accurately he can predict your motions, his soaked hand catching your chin before you can even turn away and yanking it back to face him.

“You look away from me again and I won’t let you cum at all, you understand?” nimble fingers grip your cheeks with such force your lips pucker up, viscous drool beginning to ooze out the corners as you nod jerkily.

“Don’t be a brat,” Natsuo joins in, but it almost sounds like he’s begging you not to be bad, not to ruin this for him, a needy whine woven into the words, thunder submitting to its luminescent leader. “Be a good girl and cum from Touya-nii’s fingers,”

And you nod and whimper and agree, because you want to be good, because you are good, because the two of them are almost otherworldly in the way they prevail, as harmonious as the rain and the lightning and the thunder, coming together to create one massive, horrific, awe-inspiring storm, magnificent and malignant all at once.

“You know, I really shouldn’t let you,” Touya muses, nonchalant and unbothered, entirely disregarding the fact that your Daddy just gave you explicit permission—since none of that ever really matters when Touya-nii is around. “Not with how much of a fucking brat you’ve been today,”

Jumbled pleads begin instantly spilling from your throat, flowing so fast, so seamlessly they sound like one steady word, uninterrupted even as hiccups stammer in your chest and tears flow in thick streams down your cheeks.

And, oh, you’re so disgustingly desirous, it’s precious, he tells you, the words stuffed full of an almost affectionate derision as his fingers find your clit again, resuming their previous practice at an alarmingly fast pace, a muddled hybrid of his name and his honorific fracturing in your throat.

Flames as blue as his eyes flicker and flare in the pit of your tummy, blistering heat laving over your organs as it burns higher, stronger, brighter with each movement, remorseless as it consumes your body, your mind, your soul, as it engulfs you from the inside out, licking gracefully up your throat, cinders carrying burnt moans that wither into tendrils of thick smoke as they escape your lips. Three more drags of those calloused fingers—up, down, left—and you’re choking on a cry, body convulsing almost violently in their arms as your cunt clenches around nothing, hips sporadically bucking in a vain attempt to chase the after-sparks.

They’re laughing then, you think, murmuring to each other over your head as you collapse, boneless and pliant, back against your Daddy’s chest. You can’t make out what they’re saying, mind evaporated into a pure fog of dim cinders and weak vibrations, their sentiments muddled and muffled, no longer discernible from the storm outside. Fingers thread through your hair as palms cup your jaw, a pair of scarred lips suddenly at your ear.

“Told you we’d find a way to have fun,”

#todoroki natsuo x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi x reader #natsuo smut #dabi smut #bnha smut #tw:pseudocest #tw:daddy kink #tw:dacryphilia #tw:toxic relationship #tw:degradation #i'm like half asleep rn so pls lmk if i missed a tw!!!!!

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hyunjilicious · 4 years ago

Note

I just read what is and what should never be and it was PHENOMENAL! I love everything you write anyway so I was wondering if you could do a small one where Bucky is alone and depressed and he calls yn because he feels lost and she is just there for him? No worries if you can't! I love you anyway 💕

Omg!! You’re too sweet! I really wanted to do this one justice, but I suck at angst... I love you too!! and I’m sorry if this sucks!

Summary: after the events of Endgame, you and Bucky part ways. Even though you haven’t spoken in months, when he needs you, you’re there ANGST 2.2k

Warnings: overall angsty vibes. Sad Bucky. Idk depictions of depression I guess? shitty writing!

“You came” Bucky's surprised tone pulled you out of your thoughts.

Before saying anything else, you shook your head in disbelief. From certain points of view, he looked exactly the same as when you last saw him months ago, but if you looked past his rugged exterior, it was very easy to tell something was truly eating away at his heart.

“Of course I came” you frowned, “You called me”

“Thought you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore” Bucky mumbled.

You looked him up and down, thoroughly confused by his statement, but decided to keep the tone of the conversation from going too dark too fast. “Shut up, Barnes” you scoffed, “Don’t even joke about that.” A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of his lips, but it was forced, you could easily tell he wasn’t truly being himself. “What’s up?”

Bucky took a deep breath as if gathering the courage to word his thoughts. When his eyes met yours he flinched, the pain clouding his otherwise bright blue eyes. He started with a long sigh and a shake of his head but then, cringed as he finally spoke up. “I need help”

His confession went directly to the pit of your stomach. “What happened? Whatever it is, you got it, but what-”

“Nothing happened” Bucky stopped you, “I need help”

“I don’t understand”

“I need someone to-” he sighed, closing his eyes as his head fell forward in what could only be described as shame, “I need someone to talk to” and it was funny, considering he just walked out of his psychiatrist’s office. “Someone that’s not paid to listen to me” he added, “Someone who understands”

It was moments like these that you truly wished Steve was still here. Or Nat. Your best friends, yes, but they were the glue that held you all together, and now in their absence, you were all threatening to fall apart.

But of course you’d be there for Bucky. Whatever he needed you were more than eager to provide, but at the same time, you were fully aware that your capabilities were limited. You didn’t lack the understanding or the experience, but you lacked the words. You had the sympathy, but not the advice he needed. But you were there. Like you have always been and always will be, so, that afternoon you ended up on his living room floor.

Surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol that had no effect on either of you whatsoever, you sat and listened to him rant his heart out until his throat couldn’t take it anymore. And then he broke down - completely. A full on mess, tears staining his cheeks as the temperature dropped in the room with every other pained groan he’d release. But he let it all out and the weight he had been carrying on his shoulder was unimaginable. There were too many things eating away at his heart, but the guilt was what kept him under its spell, what kept him up for the last months, what was physically destroying him.

“Y/n... “ he called for you, face hidden in his hands as he spoke, “I know you’re gonna say no, but-”

“No,” you stopped him, “Then don’t ask me”

“Please”

“No, Bucky” you sighed, grabbing his wrist so you could look him in the eyes, “If you already know it’s a bad idea, please don’t tell me because I’m afraid I’ll actually go through with it right now”

“But i can’t fucking sleep!” he cried out loud, falling back against the couch, arms propped up on his knees, “I keep having the same nightmares over and over again, and I can’t take it anymore”

“You don’t-” you took a deep breath, “You don’t want me to erase your mind, do you?”

The look in his eyes proved that that was exactly what he wanted. And the unshed tears that coated the otherwise pure and radiant blue of his eyes was almost enough to convince you.

“Please-” he begged, “I-”

“No, Buck” you shook your head and shuffled to face him properly, “As time passes, it’s only gonna get worse. The past will eventually catch up to you. You’ll want to know what you did”

He didn’t have it in him to fight you, so silence settled for a while. “You know sedatives don’t work on me?”

“I… never thought about it, but that makes sense”

Bucky gathered his lips into a tight line and nodded his head.

“Lady shrink isn’t of any help?” you asked.

“I have no clue what she’s doing” he shrugged, “Maybe it’s good in the long run, but fuck if I know how she expects me to make any kind of progress right now”

“You are, tho” you reassured him, “Making progress I mean”

“Am I?” Bucky laughed incredulously.

“Yes! You’re almost completely on your own feet. You really pushed through”

“Or maybe I’m just ignoring all of my problems”

“You just told me about them” you chuckled, and threw an arm over his shoulders.

Hesitatingly at first, he eventually leaned in into your hold, allowing himself to completely fall against your chest. “I hate this”

“I think that’s a given” you laughed, curling your fingers around the roots of his way too short hair. “A wise man once said that whenever someone acts like they have their shit together, they’re either lying or delusional”

“Who said that?”

“I don’t know” you confessed, “I saw that on the internet”

For the first time that night, you actually heard him laugh, and it sounded so good - it was short and weak, but it was sweet and honest. “That’s a pathetic attempt at cheering me up, but I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it” Bucky said as he pushed himself up.

“I wish I could do more” you mumbled, “But I don’t know what, or how, but-”

“Thank you”

“You don’t have to thank me, you know that” you smiled.

He didn’t know that. He’d never stop thanking you for even the smallest gestures. The day where Bucky would understand that kindness, in some cases, is a given, was far away, but you had the patience and determination to work for it.

As you talked and talked, and the topic of conversation kept shifting from one area to the other, the sun set, night settling outside his small windows. It was time for you to leave, and you would’ve done it, had he asked you not to at the last second.

You had your shoes on and one hand on the door handle, when he stumbled over his words, obviously too shy to properly hold his ground. “Actually can you- can you-” he mumbled, pointing to his couch, “Can you stay here tonight?”

And of course you did. The night didn’t last much longer after that, with Bucky settling on the floor, only a blanket to keep him company, and you sprawled out on the couch as silence settled.

But your mind was too busy to drift off. You knew his’ was too, but decided to refrain from speaking up, hoping to let him fall asleep, even for a short while.

It was loud inside your head. You always promised yourself you’d never intrude on someone’s thoughts and read through them without their approval, but you physically felt Bucky radiate energy, and your mind just slipped. But then, your heart almost stopped.

You saw yourself. You saw yourself slapping him back in Wakanda when he decided to go under ice again, you saw yourself moving a car out of his way back in Bucharest, when you risked your life for his because you trusted Steve that much, and because you were that good of a friend. You saw yourself at Tony’s funeral, eyes shiny with tears and then felt an almost uncontrollable urge to hug yourself - and then realised it wasn’t your urge, it was Bucky’s. At this point, your heart beat so fast you were actually afraid he’d hear it. But when goosebumps appeared all over your skin, you realised he couldn’t hear you, that he was asleep and that the nightmares started materializing.

What convinced you to act on it was the sudden jerk of his body and the way to fully tensed instantly after. So, unable to just sit and watch, you rolled over to the side and allowed your hand to fall by his temple, little specks of light rolling off the tips of your fingers as you forced the thoughts away. Seconds later, you saw him relax and shift around, gathering the blanket he laid on to his chest as he drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

His relaxed form and the steady pace of his breathing put a smile on your face. But you made the mistake of thinking this was a one time thing, however, before you realised, you found yourself leaning over him again, ushering yet another wave of nightmares away. And it kept being an ongoing process until the sun rose, and you cursed yourself as you did not get one second of shut eye. But it was worth it. The sight of him finally resting, knowing he spent his night in his happy place that you this time did not intrude on, made up for your tiredness.

When Bucky drifted out of his deep sleep, you figured it was safe to relax too. But knowing that if you went to sleep right now you wouldn’t wake up until noon, you stood up, determined to give him the full best friend experience.

But all you found in his kitchen was a box of stale cereal, a soft cucumber and candy wrappers. Had he not looked so adorable sleeping shirtless and curled into a ball on the floor, you would have woken him up yelling. But instead, you decided to order some food, and the simple fact that the sound of the delivery guy ringing the doorbell didn’t wake him up, actually terrified you. With a life like yours, no one sleeps that deeply, but then there he was, snoring away the late hours of the morning.

By the time he finally stirred awake, the food was already cold, and you were bored out of your mind. “What- what time is it?” he mumbled, voice rich with sleep.

“A little bit past 2” you yawned from your spot on the couch.

“2 pm?” Bucky huffed, sitting up in a hurry and rushing to grab his phone. “What the-” he turned to you confused, “It’s 2pm…”

“Yeah” you sighed, “And the food is cold”

“Food?” Bucky gawked, looking over at the small table by the window, “You got food?”

“You didn’t have any” you defended yourself. You wanted to scold him for not taking better care of himself, but he looked so homey and cozy and vulnerable, that you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Eventually, you stood up and walked over to him. “I’ll let you eat, Buck, but I gotta go” you sighed, giving him a hug, “Got some stuff to do” you lied, by stuff meaning sleep, since you were exhausted.

“Yeah, of course” he mumbled in agreement, wrapping his arms around your frame, and bringing you closer. He sank his head into the crook of your neck, holding you to his chest for a moment longer than you would have considered friendly. But you didn’t complain, his hold was stern and loving, and you really needed that right now. “Thank you” Bucky added when he finally let you go. His right palm cupped your cheek as he looked down at you, awe and admiration in his eyes.

“Nothing to thank me for, Buck” you smiled, and then pulled away.

He silently watched you get ready to leave, following you around until you reached the door and turned around to say goodbye. And it was weird. Your heart boomed against your ribcage, and you didn’t have to read his thoughts to know he was feeling the same kind of nervous. And it may have been the one too many stories you read but you actually feared something was going to happen. Thankfully, it didn’t. Instead you shared another hug, and parted ways.

However, all you managed to do was reach the staircase before you heard his door open, followed by the sound of his bare feet sprinting down the hallway. “What are you-”

“Can you stay?” he asked, shaking from head to toe, “In New York I mean, can you please stay? Just a few more days”

“Well, I- yeah, I guess I can” you mumbled.

“I just, I need a few more days. You’re screwing my head back on, I just need you now. Steve is gone, and Sam is all the way in Louisiana and I hate phones and I-”

“Wow-” you laughed, “I’m not even the second choice, I’m the third?”

“Shut up, Y/n” Bucky frowned, “Stop being a smartass for a second”

“I’m sorry” you rolled your eyes, but he didn’t care.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky threw his arms around your shoulders and hugged you close, and you weren’t sure if the ‘I love you’ that echoed inside your mind had actually been spoken or just thought, but it was everything you never knew you needed.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine

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wasabito · 4 years ago

Text

➽ corruption collab masterlist — hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting and @bummie ♥️

➽ note: definitely gonna come back and edit this a bit more because threesomes are hard as fuck, no pun intended lmao happy v-day everyone!

➽ word count: 3.2k

➽ cw/tags: polyamory + body worship + threesome + praise kink + public sex + choking + handjobs/fingering + vaginal sex + squirting + established relationship

➽ pairing: akaashi x fem!reader x bokuto

💿 1. nasty — ariana grande || 2. come on — jhene aiko

With Valentine's Day fast approaching, it becomes rather apparent that love and romance are in the air. Storefronts are decorated in bubblegum pinks and reds. Flower shops promote their special bouquet arrangements at discounted prices. Even your favorite hole in the wall coffee shop has fallen prey to the spirit of cupid as they announce their new strawberry shortcake dessert and heart-shaped scones.

In lieu of staying home for the third night this week, your boyfriends escort you to dinner at an upscale restaurant in the city. They treat you to a five-course meal and a bottle of wine even pricier than the dinner itself. One would think, after three years of dating, you would no longer be caught unawares by their spontaneity. And yet, here they are, once again pulling the rug from underneath your four-inch heels.

Your gaze flickers from Akaashi's tranquil smile to Bokuto's wide grin.

Adjusting the napkin in your lap, you open your mouth to speak, then pause as the right words fail it come. Brain short-circuiting instead, you let out a confused, "Huh?!"

"We're taking you to Italy!" Bokuto repeats, about ready to hop out of his seat with excitement. He looks to Akaashi, "Three nights in Venice, right 'Kaashi?"

"Yes, we decided on Venice after you told us you'd always wanted to visit. Remember Koutarou's birthday last year?"

"But that was like months ago! Did you two honestly hold onto that drunk little confession this entire time?"

"Of course."

"Yup!!"

It's in moments like these when you are reminded of their history together, first as teammates playing volleyball, and eventually close friends. Not much longer after that, you'd met and fallen for Akaashi, then Bokuto, and thus began the relationship of today. While you find it a little ridiculous, it seems neither of them has any qualms about this trip.

After all, you are their lovely girlfriend. Why wouldn't they want to make your wishes come true?

Bokuto claps his hands, eyes sparkling. "Everything's already planned out, babe, so don't worry your pretty little head, okay?"

You can't argue with that. Reaching over, you take Bokuto's hand in your right and Akaashi's in your left. "Alright, since you two went to all this trouble for me, I guess I'll just sit back and enjoy it."

♥️

Venice is just as beautiful as you imagined.

It looks as if it's floating upon blue-green waters with lots of sunshine, beautiful architecture, and a vibrancy that makes it feel like the city has a life of its own. You are grateful you didn't come by yourself. There is no way you would've enjoyed it without Akaashi and Bokuto at your side.

"We're about a ten-minute walk from Piazza San Marco," Akaashi says as he taps his glasses. His sharp gaze is locked on the map in his hands, likely committing most landmarks and details to memory. "Would you like to check it out?"

"Yeah! Let's do it."

"Off we go, go, go!"

Thus, a majority of your first day in Venice is spent sightseeing.

The three of you take a gondola ride through Canale Grande, then have a peek into the Gallerie Dell'Accademia at Akaashi's insistence, though naturally, you wouldn't have come all the way to Italy and not visited at least one art museum. Afterward, the three of you go to the Le Mercerie shopping district and buy gifts for your friends before finally taking a pit stop for the most delicious gelato in the city.

The sunsets sooner than expected, casting the entire block in deep red hues. Bokuto's mood is greatly influenced by it, and the jetlag certainly doesn't help. He props himself against you, nuzzling you in a way that says he's itching for a kiss.

"Tired, Kou?"

Bokuto hums. "A little... More hungry than anything."

He leans in and pecks your lips with a sated smile. "Maybe I should eat you. I mean, how is it my girl's so damn cute? Not fair, I can't resist."

You snort at Bo's silliness but can't help shivering a little at the tiny implication of his words. He always did like to lay his head on your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses and love bites where he could.

So, the thought of him eating you out made you squeeze your thighs together.

Akaashi approaches with your frozen treats held between his long fingers; having overheard Bokuto earlier, he tucks his wallet back into his pocket.

"We'll get some dinner after we drop off these shopping bags. How does that sound?"

You eagerly take your gelato from him with a smile.

"Sounds like a plan."

Akaashi nods, standing at your other side, close enough to brush elbows though not as close as Bokuto, who was nearly hovering.

The three of you are in one of the narrow, maze-like streetways, basking in the warm, early evening glow. The sweet taste of fruit and cream on your tongue fills you with so much contentment, especially while being with your favorite people. You aren't sure if anything could top the way you currently felt, and the trip has just barely started.

Upon arriving at your temporary place of residence, a quaint little villa on the waterfront just along the shore of Punta Sabbioni Beach, Bokuto immediately kicks off his sandals, dumps the bags, and promptly falls asleep on the couch.

"It's so weird seeing Kou like this." You remark. "On any normal day, he's brimming with almost too much energy, but now he's all tired."

"Well, he did stay up an entire twelve hours on the plane. It was only a matter of time before fatigue caught up to him." Akaashi picks up Bokuto's shoes with practiced ease and places them by the others.

There is a fond smile running along the edges of his mouth as he tucks a throw around the man's larger frame. You help him adjust a spare pillow under Bo's head and then set off to explore the rest of the area.

It seemed like everything about Venice was taken straight out of a romance film, with its cobblestone paths, gothic cathedral architecture, crisp ocean waters, and authentic Italian cuisine. It is no wonder the city's known to draw hapless souls together in romance. Even you fell subject to it, and by each passing moment, you crave to be with your boyfriends.

You are standing at the balcony overlooking the beach, satisfied with your inspection of the villa when Akaashi comes to stand behind you. He holds onto the railings, caging you in his arms, and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"He was right, you know." He murmurs. "You do look good enough to eat."

Blunt as ever. Apparently, something's never change.

Though one might say that Akaashi is as he's always been after high school and college, there is no denying his boost in confidence. After all, he had landed not one but two rather attractive partners.

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, before latching onto your neck.

The sun's scenic view on the horizon, reflecting upon the beach sands of gold and shimmering orange waves, makes for an excellent backdrop.

You turn to face Akaashi and pull him into a heated kiss. His lips convey a sense of devotion to you, and with each press of them against yours, you can feel just how bad he's yearning for more.

"Kei," you whisper. "Let's go inside."

In a moment, Akaashi whisks you off your feet quite similar to how Bokuto would, though you both don't even make it to the bedroom.

Your other partner had sat up on the sofa, hair flat on one side, scrubbing his eyelids.

"Guys, I'm freaking starving!" Bokuto groans. "Let's get some food or something."

He doesn't even notice how you and Akaashi are breathing heavy or how your clothes are sporting wrinkles that were not previously there. Regardless, Akaashi has food delivered while you went ahead to shower the day's journey away. There are still two days left. You'd get your chance with them at some point.

♥️

Sadly, the entirety of day two is spent indoors. Heavy sheets of rain continue to fall, muddying the shoreline. The three of you huddle on the sofa wrapped in blankets with subtitled movies playing in the background.

Even though you would've much rather been out exploring in the city, just sharing in your boyfriend's warmth would suffice for now. Akaashi hands you a steaming cup of something rich in both color and smell.

"What's this?"

"Just espresso." He takes the empty seat beside you.

You savor the taste while leaning against his shoulder. "Mm, nice."

Bokuto keeps his head on your lap, loving how you thread your fingers into his hair.

It is a tranquil kind of peace that soon lulls you to sleep.

Later, when you finally wake up, it's dark, and you're alone. A blanket had been tucked around your shoulders to shield you from the sudden chill. At some point, the television had been shut off along with every light in the room. You might've been a little scared if not for the voices coming from the second floor. Slowly, you creep up the winding staircase, dragging along the blanket around your shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Bokuto chuckles. "You're finally up!"

His hair is down, wet from his shower, and he holds a thin towel together around his waist. In his hand is a cellphone, and he doesn't hesitate to shove the screen into your face. "Say hi, Tetsu!"

"Hi Y/N, how's it going?"

You blink slowly, still trying to wake yourself up.

"Kuroo, hey… I'm well. How are you?"

"Great, just about to head out for a late lunch. I hear it's almost ten pm over there."

"Yeah, it's an eight-hour time difference."

You and Kuroo continue to chat while Bokuto towels off his hair and puts on clothes. Afterward, you let Bokuto resume his conversation and join Akaashi on the bed. The man had gone full editor-mode with his glasses propped up in his hair as he read through some work documents.

When you approach, he greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "You look well-rested."

"Is that your way of telling me I have drool on my cheek, Keiji?"

He cracks a tiny smile, eyes taking in your features, then he pokes your cheek with his index finger. "Perhaps."

You scrub the corners of your mouth with your sleeve and drape yourself over Akaashi, work be damned. This was supposed to be a special weekend for relaxing.

"I really wanted to go to the beach today." You pout.

Akaashi interlocks his fingers with yours. "Maybe we still can. It stopped raining a few hours ago."

"Really?!"

You hop off the bed and head for the window. He's right, the rain had long stopped, and the beach lay bare, lit by only the moonlight.

Maybe a short walk to the beach would do you some good.

♥️

The grains of sand feel cold against your feet without the sun to beat down on them, but you don't complain. The air is humid enough on its own that you forgo wearing actual clothes and instead wear a swimsuit along with Bokuto's old Fukurōdani windbreaker.

You walk along the shore, toes digging into the sand, letting the ocean waves lap at your feet to wash them clean again.

At first, it's so eerily quiet without a soul around except you, but even that doesn't last long. You hear Bokuto's voice bellow into the night as he jogs towards you in nothing but swim trunks. Behind him, Akaashi trails slowly after with a blanket in hand.

"We thought you might want some company." He says and spreads the cover on the sand several feet away from the water, content with just watching.

Bokuto grabs your hand and you go running to the water with him, but a second later, you both come sprinting back.

"It's freezing!"

"S-So co-co-cold!"

You collapse on top of him, fingers splayed across his bare chest. However, when you try to sit up, Bokuto has other plans. He keeps you pressed to his chest with both arms around your waist.

"Let me keep you warm, baby!"

You know he meant it in the most innocent way, but you can't help but think other thoughts. Your nerves fray at the image that blooms in your head and spreads like wildfire.

And as Akaashi strokes your back, you know he's probably read your mind.

It's the way your eyes seem to glitter with want that gives it away. Akaashi has always been rather observant, and so your silent cues are something he's always been privy to.

His nimble fingers curve around the nape of your neck, and he tilts his head to capture your lips in a kiss. This one is unlike the one from yesterday. There is no rush, no desire to quicken his haste; instead, he savors the taste of you like it's something to be thoroughly enjoyed.

Underneath you, Bokuto stirs, growing aroused at the sight of his two lovers' kiss. He can't decide whether he wants to join in or sit back and watch. But his large hand comes down to stroke your ass, resulting in a moan you breathe directly into Akaashi's mouth.

"You're not usually so forthcoming, Keiji," you whisper against his lips. "Eager, are we?"

Akaashi pulls away just enough to pepper your face in feathery kisses. "Can you blame me? When I have such a lovely girlfriend here."

As if confirming his words, he slips a hand under your jacket and cups your breast. The pads of his thumb brush along the seams of your bathing suit, caressing your nipple.

"Kou, let's show Y/N just how much we love her, yes?"

Bokuto didn't need to be told twice. He had been in entranced by you and Akaashi, completely taken by the way your lips danced upon one another. But now, he wanted more than anything to touch you, kiss you, hold you.

Bokuto cradles you in his lap, propping your legs open with his knees so Akaashi can kneel in front of you. It didn't take much for him to relieve you of your clothing, namely your swimming bottoms. But the second the air hits your bare cunt, you feel tense.

You aren't sure what it was, but the atmosphere is different. Both Akaashi and Bokuto are so focused on you, it feels like you're under a spotlight.

"You're so pretty, so beautiful," Bokuto says while squeezing your thighs. His warm breath tickles your ear as he presses his nose into your neck. Next, his lips follow suit. "Wanna fuck you, so bad baby. You'd like that, right?"

His words earn him a chuckle from Akaashi, who merely licks two of his fingers, wetting them and sliding into you. Your mouth parts, shaky breaths barely expelled from your lungs. You're hyper-aware of the fact that you're literally being fingered on a beach in the middle of the night, and you can't bring yourself to care. It feels good to be pampered by the two men you love.

For every moan, Akaashi gives you double for your efforts, thrusting his fingers just right, curving them in such a way that has your back arching off Bokuto, who has also taken to fondling your nipples. With every roll of his hips, you feel his cock against your ass, and it pushes you further into Akaashi's fingers.

Your impending orgasm sweeps by so close and yet so far away. All you can do is rock yourself faster.

"Please," you whimper. "W-Wanna come."

Akaashi crooks his fingers, pressing into the perfect spot that sends you hurtling over the edge. Your cunt spasms around his fingers, clenching in intervals you have no control over until his hand is coated with your wet, slick juices that keep coming the more you squirt all over him.

"She's so wet 'Kaashi. Look at our pretty girl."

Akaashi places a chaste kiss on your forehead with a smile.

"She's doing well, so far. Let's see if she can keep going."

Bokuto shimmies his shorts off enough to free his hard cock. He had been uncharacteristically patient until now, but that was soon to change as he lines himself up with your cunt, teasing you with just the tip.

Your whining is unintelligible, but both men understand you more or less.

"Give the pretty girl what she wants," Akaashi says. He strokes his own hard-on at the sight of Bokuto's pushing past your wet folds. "I know she can take more than that."

Bokuto has always been girthy, and it takes you more than a few seconds to adjust to his size, but when you finally do, it feels like heaven.

The position you're in gives Bokuto all the power to thrust into you like a ragdoll. But it's only when you make eye contact with Akaashi that you realize that it's, in fact, the other way around for him in particular. From where he sits, stroking his cock with flushed cheeks and choked moans, you see just how much control you have over him.

"Kiss me." You moan.

Akaashi doesn't let you repeat yourself. He kisses you long and hard even as you grip his throat with one hand and his hair with the other. He kisses you until his lips are red and bruised.

"Good boy. Both of y-you."

Bokuto groans loudly. "Say it again. Keep saying it!"

"Y-You're both so good. I-" your hips stutter against Akaashi's fingers that are rubbing circles into your clit. "Good, so good-"

That's all it takes to take Bokuto over the edge, blowing his load. "Perfect, so fucking perfect."

You can feel another orgasm swelling up inside your belly. You try to tell them but can't, too overcome by the feeling of your body tingling with desire. It's too much, overwhelmingly so; your vision blurs with unshed tears as Bokuto continues to pound into sopping pussy. Pleasure floods every fiber of your being until you're limp and every nerve in your body is set alight.

Bokuto slips out of you easily, a string of his semen following.

You can only look on in a drowsy haze as Bokuto leans over and kisses you and then Akaashi, working him over with a tight fist.

♥️

The following morning, you’re the first to wake, but only because there’s a limb jammed into your back and a heavy weight on your chest. It takes you a moment to realize, but it’s Bokuto’s elbow poking you and Akaashi’s head resting on you.

All three of you are a tangle of limbs in bed, but you aren’t sure how you’d gotten there.

“G’mornin’” Bokuto breathes. His lips caress the column of your neck.

“Morning.”

You shift into a more comfortable position. Though doing so presses Akaashi’s morning wood against your thigh.

“Keiji, you awake yet?”

“Mmm barely.” Akaashi looks up at you through his lashes, then smiles and nuzzles closer into your chest.

Bokuto, content with being your big spoon, reaches over to touch Akaashi, hands cupping his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day!”

“That’s true, should we do something special.”

Thinking about the previous night, you feel desire stirring in your gut. “Could we just... do it again?”

Both men look to each other then back at you, sporting matching smiles.

“Why not?”

#bokuaka x reader #bokuto x reader #koutarou bokuto x reader #akaashi x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu smut

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fallen-gravity · 3 years ago

Text

Aftermath

A whole summer later, and Mabel's still having nightmares about being trapped in her bubble. One unfortunate morning, Ford just happens to be the one who overhears her crying in her sleep.

Notes:

A huge, huge shout out to @ariasofelegance

A little white ago I reblogged a silly post that said something like "come into my inbox and tell me what my writing brand is", and without hesitating she dragged me into the dirt. Got me so on the nose that it backfired and whoops, I wanted to write it.

Said ask can be found here

Hope you’re happy with the results, Rin ;)

AO3

It’s the sound of sugary pop music seemingly wafting in through her bedroom window that wakes Mabel first. She assumes it’s just an alarm she doesn’t remember setting, and frantically waves her arm out for her nightstand so she can turn it off and go back to sleep for another minute or ten.

Then it’s the fact that her hand smacks something that squeaks, and okay, maybe Waddles accidentally left one of his toys in her room. He’s got plenty, so she can shrug off that as long as it’s not his favorite then he can go another few minutes without it. She’ll bring it downstairs to him when she wakes up, or if Dipper rises before her he can bring it downstairs instead.

It’s fine. She can brush those things off, and to prove it to herself she turns over on her other side and brings her blanket up to cover her ears. If anyone needs her they’re gonna have to climb the stairs all the way up to the attic and tell her themselves. She smiles to herself at the thought, and settles easily back into her sleep.

It doesn’t really click that something’s…off until the sun shines in through her window. Despite knowing that she’s facing away from her window, the sunlight still pierces through Mabel’s blanket and lands right into her eyes. Even for the mid-summer Oregon sun she’s gotten accustomed to, it’s uncomfortably warm and unreasonably bright for so early in the morning.

…Stranger still, she’s sure that Dipper would’ve already complained about it before she did, or at the very least, she’s sure she already would’ve heard him shuffling around the room by now.

Mabel takes it to mean that he must already be awake and downstairs, and groans. It still doesn’t explain why the sun is so painful in her eyes, but she guesses that could be a result of her sleeping in later than she’s used to.

“Alright, universe, you got me” Mabel mumbles, and stretches as she finally pushes herself into a sitting position. Opening her eyes is a bit tougher with the sun still harshly shining into them, but it’s manageable, and…

…This doesn’t look like the attic.

She attempts to rub the sleep out of her eyes, in case she’s still not fully awake yet, but no, the image in front of her still doesn’t change. She’s about to try standing up to see if walking around will help snap her out of her haze, but before she can even kick her feet over the edge her bedroom door swings open.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Mabel sighs. “Can you close the window? I can’t see a thing”

“Sure thing, Miss Mabel!” a cheery voice that is decidedly not Dipper’s replies, and with a snap of their fingers the lights go out. Now that her eyes finally adjust, Mabel’s able to glance around her room, and…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no.

There are stone statues of her face in every corner of her room, piles of rainbow plushies stacked all over the floor, a collage of sweaters all over the wall, inflatable furniture scattered everywhere, and most notably, a large rug with a bright shooting star embroidered into the center.

“Miss Mabel?” the strange voice asks again, and a bright pink hippo steps into view towards her bed. “Is everything okay?”

Mabel frantically scoots backwards in her strange bed. “Stay back!” she tries to shout, but everything comes out as more of a panicked waver. “Stay back or I’ll grapple hook you in the face!” she frantically pats all around her body for any sign of her trusty weapon.

The hippo tilts its head in confusion, a squeak emerging from it. “Oh, Miss Mabel, you’re a riot! Don’t you remember?”

Mabel freezes in her frantic patting. “Remember what?”

The strange hippo laughs. “Our volleyball match! You promised you’d play with me, but then you took a suuuper long nap instead!”

Mabel shakes her head. It can’t be. It can’t be. She knows Dipper already came to rescue her, she knows they already took the bus back to Piedmont together, she knows they promised to stick together through thick and thin.

Or…did they? What if that was all part of this sick fantasy too? What if Bill just made her believe that Dipper came to her aid, when he’s actually been captured, or hurt, or worse, and Bill is still pacifying her for as long as he can to keep Weirdmageddon going?

She can’t breathe. She tugs at the collar of her turtleneck, but that only makes things worse, because it’s not until she notices the hot pink of her collar that she realizes she’s wearing her shooting star sweater. She wants to rip it off and claw at it until it comes apart thread by thread.

“M-Miss Mabel?”

She has to get out of here.

“Of course!” she replies, just to avoid suspicion. “Let’s go play some volleyball!” She claps loudly, and the pink hippo grins, seemingly unfazed by her behavior.

“Great!” it beams, and bounces happily out the door. Mabel follows more slowly, casting nervous glances everywhere she looks for any signs of creeping yellow eyes.

“Oh, shoot!” the hippo shouts once they’re outside, and Mabel nearly jumps a mile out of her skin.

“What is it?”

“We don’t have enough players,” the hippo pouts. “I can go see if I can find anyone who-”

“No!” Mabel shouts, and a few beachgoers freeze to cast glances her way. She blushes, and tries again. “I...I mean, we could always get my brother to play with us! Where’s my good ol’ twin brother?”

For the briefest of moments the hippo’s eyes flash yellow, but they’re back to normal just as quickly.

“Over here, sis!” Dippy Fresh waves, approaching them on his skateboard.

Mabel steps back, shaking her head. “Where’s my real twin brother?”

The crowd of beachgoers begins murmuring uncomfortably to each other.

“Aww, c’mon sis, don’t be like that!” he grins, jumping off of his skateboard and taking a step closer.

“You’re not my real brother” she hisses. “None of this is real! I know it isn’t!”

She’s shouting now, but she doesn’t care. “Come out and face me yourself, Bill! I know you’re out there! I don’t want to take part in this sick fantasy anymore!”

Everyone around her gasps, and between one breath and the next she’s painfully tackled to the ground.

“Mabel Pines!” an unfamiliar voice shouts, mixed seamlessly with the shrill echo of Bill’s. “Not only have you broken the one and only law of Mabeland, you have also spoke up in defiance of Bill Cipher, the true creator of this land. A simple court trial will not be enough. For these transgressions, you will be taken straight to the Fearamid for proper punishment”.

Mabel’s face pales. “W-wait! I was only just kidding!” She pleas, but a strong pair of arms is already lifting her into the air. She kicks and thrashes, but no matter how much she fights back, more pairs of hands seem to grab onto her and keep her in place.

“No!” she shouts. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise! I’ll do anything you guys want! I’ll never leave you again!”

“It’s too late!” Bill’s voice finally separates itself from the crowd, and he manifests himself in front of her. He lifts her into the air, and she starts thrashing even harder, but nothing she’s doing is working to free herself from her grip.

At the very back of her mind, she thinks she can hear someone shouting her name. But she’s sure that’s all just part of the illusion, that Bill’s using the sound of her own family against her to torture her one last time before she never sees them again, and-

Something brushes against her forehead.

Something soft, and warm, and comforting, and so humanlike compared to everything else around her that it’s enough to make the every single aspect of the illusion disappear into thin air all at once, even Bill himself.

Everything’s black, and then, with a blink of her eyes, she’s staring into Ford’s eyes, soft and loving and pooling with worry. It doesn’t take long for her to piece together that it’s his hand on her forehead.

“Mabel?” he asks, and she realizes quickly that it had been his voice shouting her name in the bubble.

She gasps, bolting upright, and does her best to recover her breathing. Ford doges out of the way to avoid smacking heads, but stays right where he is beside her, rubbing soothing little circles into her back.

Her throat hurts. She must’ve been shouting in her sleep. She wants to cry, but she can’t even do that right, because the moment a sob tries to escape her throat her chest feels like it’s closing up, and she can’t take a breath anymore, no matter how much air she inhales.

“It’s okay,” Ford whispers to her. “Deep breaths”

Mabel shakes her head. “I…I can’t”

“Yes you can,” he replies, firmly but kindly. He scooches closer to her, slowly as not to re-startle her. “Mabel, look at me”

She does. His eyes are so soft, conveying so many grounding, human emotions that the single moment of eye contact alone is almost enough to completely ground her back to reality. “You’re okay,” he murmurs, once she’s finally able to maintain eye contact without her eyes trembling. “You’re awake, I promise” he offers his hands out to her. “Reach out and squeeze my hands if you need to, but I promise that I really am right here”

Mabel reaches out and takes his hands in her own. They’re so much bigger than hers, and they’re rough with calluses and there’s quill ink stuck under his nails, but they’re so comfortably the hands of her great uncle, all the way down to the extra sixth finger on each hand that the sob stuck in her throat finally breaks its way through. He’s not just another illusion, he’s not a perfect copy that Bill sent to keep her complacent, he’s just…Grunkle Ford.

Mabel throws herself into his arms as her sobs overwhelm her small body. She buries her face into the collar of his turtleneck, and forces her eyes to focus on a little loose strand sticking out at the back of his neck. It’s just a tiny little imperfect detail that could easily be snipped or sewn back into place, but a little imperfection like that to let her know she’s home is more comforting than she’s willing to admit.

Ford wraps his arms around her and holds her closely. He gently runs a hand through her hair, whispering I know and it’s okay over and over again into her hair, and she just buries her whole face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of coffee and ash and ink coming from his sweater like it’s a lifeline.

She stays in his embrace until her sobs finally calm, and they pull away gently. She wipes at her nose with her wrist.

“I’m sorry”

Ford shakes his head. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, dear. I know firsthand just how awful it feels to suffer through a panic attack alone”.

Alone?

She glances to the other side of the bedroom, and finds Dipper’s bed empty. Her heart drops to her stomach. “Wh-where’s..?” she starts, but Ford places a gentle hand on her shoulder before she can finish that train of thought.

“Dipper’s okay, he’s outside with Soos”

“Grunkle Stan?”

“He ran out to the store, but he’s okay too”

Mabel buries her face into her hands. “You didn’t…come in here because you could hear me from downstairs, did you?”

Ford shakes his head, a fond smile itching to spread across his face. “I came upstairs when I’d heard you were still asleep and didn’t want my favorite niece to miss out on such a beautiful morning,” he pauses, the smile on his face vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared. “But then when I came in to wake you up, you looked like you were having a panic attack in your sleep, and…” his voice trails off. “You started…crying out names.” He winds a protective arm around her shoulder, and gently squeezes her arm. “I’d never want to make you recount something so awful, but if you want to talk about it, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon”

Mabel sighs. It isn’t even close to being the first dream she’s had about the bubble, so she should be used to all of these strange feelings by now. But this particular dream felt the most based in reality, and it’s the first time Bill’s actually shown up and threatened to hurt her to her face.

She returns his gesture, winding an arm around Ford’s back and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. She scooches just a tiny bit closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder. “I…” she begins, squeezing her eyes shut to brace herself. “I was trapped in Mabeland again. Except it wasn’t like all the other times I’ve had nightmares about it where I knew something was off and I hit the ground running as soon as I realized where I was, it was more like…I felt like I’d always been there.”

With her free hand, Mabel brings the collar of her sweater all the way up to her nose. Anything to distract her from her uncle’s worried expression burning into her. “It was like everything we did last summer was for nothing. I woke up in my bed in the castle, and everyone was acting like it was peachy keen. I tried asking someone about where Dipper was, just for some sense of normalcy, but all that did was summon that dumb clone Mabeland created of him so I wouldn’t get too lonely. I know it’s dumb, but the whole thing just felt…too real. Like I was still stuck there, and the apocalypse was still going on out here, and the whole rescue mission was just a sick dream that Bill put in my head to trick me into believing everything was okay”

Mabel squishes her face into Ford’s sweater and just forces herself to focus on his scent, on the soft material of his sweater, on the gentle pattern of his breathing. “Everything was ripped away from me, Grunkle Ford, and I couldn’t do a thing about it. I tried speaking up for myself, but that only made things worse, because Bill showed up, and he-”

She’s suddenly painfully aware that she’s trembling again, and can’t help the tears building in her eyes. She tries burying her face even further into Ford’s sweater to collect herself and keep going, but before she can she feels Ford’s hand at the back of her head, gently holding her in place as she cries.

“It’s okay,” he tells her, his voice a soothing presence among her racing thoughts. “You don’t have to keep going.” He’s back to gently petting her hair, and the gesture is consistent and familiar enough to ease Mabel’s crying. “I’m so sorry that you’re still having nightmares about this”.

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and finally finds the strength to pull herself away from his sweater. “It’s not your fault”, she says, and her eyes drop to the hardwood floor of her bedroom. “I’m just so scared, Grunkle Ford.” She grips onto the edges of her skirt. “I know that I shouldn’t be, because I know Bill’s been gone for a year and I know everything’s okay now, but I just can’t help but feel that everything’s not.”

Ford nods solemnly, and for a moment he doesn’t respond, until he shifts in his sitting position so he’s facing directly towards Mabel rather than beside her. “Mabel, may I show you something?”

Mabel blinks, her head tilting slightly in confusion. “Sure, Grunkle Ford, what is it?”

Ford rolls the sleeves of his turtleneck up to his elbows. His wrists are covered in faded white slits, and the rest of his arms are covered in burn scars, scratches, gashes, and decades-old bruises that never healed properly. Some of them are still red and blistering, and others look so faded that she could just as easily mistake them for birthmarks.

It hurts Mabel’s heart just to look at them. Her hands hover cautiously over them, and she glances at the wonderful great uncle that they’re attached to. “C-can I…?”

He nods. “Sure.”

Mabel gently runs her fingers along each of them so lightly that it’s almost as if she isn’t touching them at all. She knows that he’d been hurt in the past, and she knows that it couldn’t have been easy roughing it out in the multiverse for thirty consecutive years, but it breaks her heart to see the evidence of it all up close.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Ford sighs, cutting into her thoughts. “But most of these don’t come from the portal” he pauses to rub at the back of his head. “Or, rather, they do, but not in the way that you probably think”

Mabel pauses. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…sometime after Bill betrayed my trust, but before I was able to get the metal plate in my head to keep him out, he’d take advantage of our deal that let him into my mind whenever he pleased,” he taps at his forehead. “He was furious that I shut down the portal, so any time I fell asleep he’d use the opportunity to hurt me as much as he could. He never wanted to kill me because he was convinced I’d change my mind in due time, but he felt the need to torture me so I’d never act against him again. He’d slit my wrists, he’d burn me, he’d do just about everything he could to make sure I could feel the repercussions of his actions when I woke up.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his head. “Thankfully he was never able to break a bone before I woke up in time to stop him, but…” he trails off, and for the briefest of moments he looks as though he’s lost in thought.

“I’m getting ahead of myself,” Ford blushes, snapping himself from his own thoughts before Mabel has any time to ask if he’s okay. “The point is,” he says, “Just because you know he’s gone now doesn’t mean that he never hurt you. Your nightmares are your scars, and they’re just as real as the scars under my sweater.”

Mabel wants to respond with a proper thank you, because she’s genuinely touched by the validation, but there’s a part of her that just can’t move past all the gashes and scars on Ford’s arms. She knows she’s seen similar cuts elsewhere, maybe not nearly as dire, but she knows in the back of her mind that’s just because she was just barely able to stop them from becoming much, much worse.

“I don’t think it’s just the nightmares” she mumbles, just barely loud enough for Ford to hear.

“Hmm?” Ford hums. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Mabel runs two fingers gently around the white scars on Ford’s wrist. “I don’t think it’s just that he hurt me, I think it’s that he hurt a lot of people that I love, too.” She shakes her head. “I know there isn’t a lot I could’ve done to prevent it, but…I was so oblivious to it, Grunkle Ford. I had no idea he was hurting so many people until it was almost too late”.

She keeps rubbing gentle circles into his wrist, like she can make the scars and all of the memories of the pain he went through vanish into thin air with her loving touch alone. “Dipper’s got these scars too. I know he’s okay now, but…” the sigh that escapes her is broken and shaky. “I know that much worse things could’ve happened to him, too”.

Ford frowns. “He…did tell me about being possessed, yes. But he also told me that he couldn’t have gotten his body back without your help. Bill’s a master at trickery, Mabel, it’s not your fault you couldn’t recognize him in Dipper’s body”.

…But she also knows that the reason Dipper was possessed in the first place is because he was up all night trying to crack a code that she told him she’d help him with, and she also knows that if she found out that it wasn’t Dipper controlling his body until it was too late, then…

“He wrote a letter”

The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop herself, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, tears building in her eyes again.

“Who did?” The soft smile slips off of Ford’s face. “Dipper?”

Mabel shakes her head. “Bill wrote a letter when he was still in possession of Dipper’s body. I’ve never shown it to Dipper before because I didn’t wanna freak him out, but I just…couldn’t bring myself to throw it away, because I was so afraid that if I did, Bill was going to find out, and wait until the moment my back was turned so he could…” her voice trails off, and she can’t finish the sentence no matter how badly she needs to get it off of her chest.

“Mabel?” Ford asks, his voice dripping with worry.

She shakes her head, and hops down from her bed to reach underneath. She grabs a seemingly useless crumped up piece of paper, and carefully unfolds it and pats down all the wrinkles before she offers it to Ford. “Before he could do this,” she replies, her voice barely rising above a whisper.

Ford takes the letter from her, and Mabel takes her seat back on the bed beside him. All she can bring herself to do is just watch as Ford’s expression becomes more and more horrified as he reads further down the letter, and the hurt in his eyes when he looks into hers when he finishes reading is palpable.

“I’m scared, Grunkle Ford” she repeats, her mouth continuing to speak before her brain can stop her. “I know Bill’s gone for good, but how can I be so sure that everything’s okay when I know that this is what he could’ve done to my brother?”

For a few painfully short moments Ford says nothing. Mabel’s sure he’s at a loss of words, or that it was a mistake showing him the letter because he’s freaking out now too, but much to her surprise Ford’s next move is pulling her into his arms again and hugging her so tightly it’s as if he never wants to let go again.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into her hair, but doesn’t give her enough time to respond before he keeps going. “Mabel, I’m so sorry you’ve been burdened with this. You’re the last person I would ever wish to feel so unsafe that you can’t even trust the quiet moments.”

His breathing sounds broken and shaky, but if he’s tearing up at all he’s doing a really good job at hiding it. “You don’t deserve any of this. You’re too young to feel like you have any responsibilities over anyone’s life or death. I’m so sorry that he made you feel this way”

She knows he’s not the kind of person to use his words carelessly. She knows that he’s phrasing it this way because he recognizes his own behavior in her. She doesn’t respond verbally, but she reciprocates the hug best she can, and a heavy sigh escapes Ford when she does. They stay there in silence for a few short minutes, just reveling in the comfort and safety of the other’s arms.

When they finally pull away, Ford seems to have gathered his composure again.

“I promise, Mabel” he takes one of her hands into his own. “I promise you that he’s gone. He can never hurt you or me or Dipper or Stan ever again. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t, and it doesn’t mean that recovering from that sort of pain will be easy, but if there’s anything I know for sure, it’s that he’s never showing his face here again”.

Mabel finally crumbles in his arms. She’s sobbing again, but it’s a cathartic kind of sob, and she’s gripping onto Ford’s shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping her together.

“And even if he does, I know just the grappling hook to scare him away”.

Between her sobs, Mabel can’t help but giggle.

#my writing #gravity falls #ford pines #mabel pines #sweater twins #mystery twins

139 notes · View notes

ly-canthropewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Trust and Security

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3460 words (I was aiming for 1000, but let’s just say - it got away from me)

Ratings/Warnings: SFW.

Summary: “Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs” @twdeadfanfic

It’s been over a month since the prison fell, and your group was weary. After one month of being out on the road, vulnerable and exhausted, your little family finds safety behind the tall walls of the Alexandria Safe Zone. Although, the walls do nothing to cease your skittishness.

The new folk behind the walls were kind and gracious, but at the same time, naive and inexperienced to what lays behind their safe haven and that worries you. It worries your group as well; everyone picking up on the credulous attitudes and their misty-eyed optimism and it just doesn’t sit right.

The first few days were difficult, a strange adjustment period. After being used to the wilderness and the danger it includes to now having a proper house to sleep in and call home, it felt, surreal. But after a few days, some of your people begin to relax and enjoy the safety of Alexandria.

You weren’t one of them, and neither was Daryl. The pair of you refused to believe in this wonderland, a shared acceptance in the belief that this place will fall just like the prison and just like any other ‘safe place’ that stood before. Perhaps you weren’t giving this place a chance? Perhaps it is easier to set yourself up for failure rather than have your hopes high? Regardless of the reasoning behind it, you just can’t get rid of the gnawing feeling of the false safety this place eludes.

Almost daily, Rick tries to convince you of Alexandria’s potential. He exemplifies the possibility of having a future here, a safe future for Carl and Judith to grow up in, a safe place where there isn’t fear about the dead or the dangers that stalk outside the walls. And almost daily, both you and Daryl turn him down, stubborn in your ways and between the false reality constructed and the abnormal kindness from the residents, you can’t help but feel unsafe.

You can’t lie, however, that Alexandria does have its perks. You have been here for 5 days already and you have not gone hungry once in that time. It is nice to have a healthy food supply, to have a blanket and a mattress that isn’t damaged or dirty and of course, it is nice to be clean. You have taken advantage of the running water system in the town, taking more showers in the last 5 days than you have in the month and it is a luxury that you allow yourself to indulge in.

The first time you had a shower you almost cried. Not one for the emotions normally, it couldn’t be helped that day when hot, running water cascading over you, temporarily washing away the trauma and pain of the apocalyptic world. For a moment, you could forget the ones you’ve lost, the agony and anguish every time you’ve had to take a life, the suffering and torture you’ve endured. For a moment, you could just be no-one.

- - -

Day six lingers, and the house is quiet. It had been decided yesterday that it’s possible to make Alexandria home and for that, houses were given to share. Rick, Carl, Judith and Michonne moved next door, never too far away from family but it gave them enough space to breathe. A large portion of the group, consisting of Abraham, Eugene, Sasha and Rosita, moved into another house on the same street. The remaining were quick to claim rooms; Maggie and Glenn taking a room as well as Carol stealing the spare. It left you and Daryl with a little bedroom on the ground floor and the lounge room. It didn’t matter, neither of you slept much nowadays and if you did, it was never at the same time. One always had to be on watch.

It was a silent arrangement, just like how your friendship blossomed. One day you were alone, despite being with the group, lingering to one side, keeping one eye on the wilderness around you as if you were ready to jump up and run into its clutches. But then one day, with no significant event as the catalyst, Daryl grew close, being drawn to your side every time a new camp was set up. Neither of you asked for the other to join, it just always happened. It became an unspoken rule that you were to always be partners. If you were to go hunting, so would Daryl. If you chose to set up your sleeping roll in the corner, Daryl would linger close. If you missed a meal, or gave your portion to someone else, then Daryl would give you some of his. It was unspoken, but it was law. You weren’t to be separated.

- - -

Summer had followed your group to Alexandria and the pair of you sat on the porch. Daryl was fiddling with his crossbow, nimble fingers twirling and unwinding certain pieces, tightening this and that, fixing up his bolts before giving the entire weapon a wipe down. He worked methodically, quietly, as if his actions were second nature to him. You shamelessly watched him periodically, fascinated by the sleek weapon and by the rugged man. He was your best friend, your partner and companion. You would die for him and he would die for you. It was simple. It was easy. And he was the single person that never failed to bring a smile to your lips.

Satisfied with your ogling, you return to your book. It wasn’t yours to begin with. It came with the furnished house and in a moment of boredom, you plucked it from its place with every intention to fill the small gap of monotony. What you hadn’t expected was to become engrossed with the novel, completely swept up in the mythical world it held.

“Yer almost finished that thing yet?”

Daryl breaks your train of thought, startling you back into the world of reality and you shrug.

“Got a few chapters to go,” you say, flicking ahead to see that you indeed have almost completed the fiction.

“You only started yesterday arvo’“ Daryl states, crooking an eyebrow in your direction, his hands continuing to work on the crossbow without a visual guide.

“What can I say, I’m a fast reader. You finished playing with that crossbow yet? You’ve been fiddling with that thing for the past 3 days now,” You are quick to shoot back at him, a smirk dancing across your lips in victory and Daryl scoffs, shaking his head in small amusement as he turns his gaze back to the item in his lap.

You finish your book just in time for Carol to leave the house, the older woman looking well dressed and holding a container of cookies. Both you and Daryl raise an eyebrow at her, silent questions being asked, and she pointedly ignores them.

“Have you even had a shower yet?” She asks sternly, giving the quiet man a stiff side glance that he shrugs off.

“I’ll hose you down when you sleep,” she threatens, “you are filthy Daryl, just take a goddamn shower”.

You stifle a giggle, biting down on your lip to hide your growing smile but you fail miserably, and a chuckle escapes you. Daryl hears it, glancing over at you with a bored expression but when he sees you smiling, he can’t fight back a little smirk of his own.

“You enjoy watching Carol take the piss out of me, ay?” he questions gruffly, and you laugh at that openly, throwing your head back to revel in the moment.

“Hell yeah I do. Who wouldn’t?” you tease, poking your tongue out when Daryl rolls his eyes.

With your book done, you throw it onto the table beside you and stand up, stretching out your arms as you unfold from your previous position. Your shoulders pop loudly as you rotate them and you groan with satisfaction, eyes closed as you continue to move your body. You miss how Daryl’s eyes selfishly gawk at the sliver of skin that is revealed as you stretch, your shirt just riding up to show the smoothness of your skin and he wonders how soft your body would be beneath his hands.

His eyes quickly snap back to his crossbow when he hears you hum, stretching complete and body limber.

“You off then?” he questions, not looking up at you as he speaks, fear that his eyes will reveal things he refuses to say.

“Yeah, might have a lie-down or somethin’“

“Gonna take one of yer ten million showers?” he teases you and a warm flutter erupts in his chest when his words make you laugh.

“Showers aren’t the enemy, Daryl” you remind him, a smile easy on your lips, but your tone is firm.

He grunts, explicitly refusing to respond and you sigh.

“Come shower with me,”

Those words catch his attention. His head whips up to look at you, eyes wide and stunned. You admire his surprised expression, noticing how his lips part ever so slightly and how he sucks in a shallow breath as he processes your words and intentions.

“Didn’t you hear the news? It’s safer to shower in pairs,” you joke, but your eyes convey understanding.

Daryl remains frozen for another moment or two, waiting for the punchline or the taunt but it never comes. Of course, it wouldn’t. He knows you. You aren’t like that, not to him. So, when it clicks that this isn’t an immoral joke and he allows himself to believe your gentleness, he nods, flustered but agreeing.

You give him a small smile, jerking your head in the direction of the front door before you turn to walk through it, not waiting for Daryl to move. You know he would follow, he has always followed you and he would follow you to the end of the earth.

By the time he reaches the bathroom, you already have the shower turned on. You have your hand beneath the stream, testing it, determined to have the perfect temperature and it is so unlike you, but at the same time, it is. He has seen you kill walkers with your bare hands, he has seen your unfiltered rage and your grief, and he has seen the special compassion you reserve for Carl and Judith. But it is rare for him to see you this gentle, this soft, this caring.

You know he is there, standing in the doorway watching you. You felt the heaviness of his gaze the moment he reached the second floor. But you don’t mention it, instead, you hum as you adjust the water before turning around to rifle through the cabinets for soap. The house is a treasure-trove of good items and the luxury of having a shower also extends to bathroom products. There are different types of soaps and shampoo to choose from and Daryl sees you fish out two items; a creamy soap bar and a green bottle. You set them both inside the shower before stepping back.

“Go on, get in” you gesture to the shower.

“Thought you were havin’ the first one?”

“And leave you with an opportunity to escape hygiene? Not a chance,” you retort

You know him too well, he thinks fondly. But an uneasiness sets in and you can see apprehension flit across his face.

“Daryl, you can shower. I won’t be leaving, I’ll be right here” you say tenderly, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid to prove your point. You weren’t going to leave him alone.

It’s reassuring, as much as Daryl hates to admit it. He isn’t used to having someone stand by him unwaveringly like you do. He hates to admit that he has come to lean on you, come to let you in. You have never pressured him, never forced his hand and for that, you unknowingly have his eternal gratitude.

“I won’t even look, so hurry up otherwise the water will run cold,” you announce, making a big show of closing your eyes and slapping a hand across your face for good measure.

Daryl cracks a smile at your theatrics, relief rolling off him in waves and slowly he begins to unbutton his shirt. Your ears strain to listen, to catch a sound so you can guess what he is doing. The rustle of a shirt confirms that he hasn’t bolted, and it makes you smile. What you don’t see is how Daryl’s fingers shake slightly as he works his belt undone as well as his jeans. He is stripping off his layers, both literally and metaphorically, and he hasn’t ever felt this bare, even with your eyes closed. He keeps his eyes trained on you as he edges towards the shower, his back never turning to reveal the ugly past that is marked into his skin and he only feels relief when he has the shower curtain drawn, letting it act as a barrier in all senses.

He has to admit; the hot water does feel heavenly. His sigh is, thankfully, masked by the sound of the shower and Daryl closes his eyes, tipping his head back and completely embraces the water. He stands there for a few moments, relishing in the luxury and the feeling of his muscles slowly unwinding, and he almost hates himself for putting this off for so long. He is so lost in heaven that he almost forgets that you are still sitting in the bathroom with him.

He pokes his head out, eyes falling on you and he smiles when he sees that you haven’t moved from your seated position, hands still covering your face but to keep you occupied, you bounce your leg.

It’s almost as if you know he is staring at you because you speak up,

“How’s the shower?” you ask

“Are ya comin’ in or what?” he ignores your question, now smugly watching your surprised reaction.

Gobsmacked, your hands fall from your face, mouth hanging open and your eyebrows raised in disbelief. This is the first time he ever hears you stutter.

“Wh- what?”

“Are ya gettin’ in or not? Ya expect me to leave you sittin’ and waitin’ for me?”

You nod, “Daryl Dixon, I didn’t expect you to invite me to shower with you”

“Sunshine, you did the invitin’ first”

“I never specified if I was to be in the same shower as you at the same time” you respond, shock fading quickly as your confidence returns and Daryl enjoys the transformation.

“Get in” he mutters and drops the curtain, standing back to leave you some room for when you come in.

You are quicker to strip than he was and although he knows you are coming, he can’t help but jump when you step into the cubicle. You notice, of course you notice, but as always, you don’t comment. Instead, you smile up at him with such a warm gaze, Daryl feels his heart clench. Silently, you grab the soap bar and lift it up, expressing your question through your look and he nods. You are gentle as you run the bar over his shoulders and down his arms, taking your time to sudd up your hands so you can run your fingers over each individual digit, cleaning them of the dirt and the grime that had accumulated. Daryl was silent during your endeavour but by the quickness of the rise and fall of his chest depicted his nervousness.

“Tell me if it gets too much” you murmur, eyes flicking to meet his and it amazes him how you don’t pressure him, letting him control his limits. It is his blind trust in you that allows you to be this close to him and you know how hard it is for the redneck to open up to you, to let you close to his turmoil.

“Nah, s’okay” he mutters breathlessly.

You continue on to his torso, rubbing the bar in circular motions and its satisfying to watch the water run dirty, revealing more of the gorgeous man in front of him. Daryl fears it will get awkward when you kneel down in front of him, eyes closed as he wills himself not to make a fool out of himself. Either or not you pick up on his anxious, you don’t say, but you avert your eyes from his lax cock, focusing on cleaning his strong legs. When you are finished Daryl offers you a hand, holding it firmly as he pulls you to your feet and once steady, he doesn’t let go.

“I can leave your back” you offer. The story of the scars isn’t new to you, but their appearance is. He hasn’t let you cast your eyes upon the monstrosities, barely able to look at them himself.

He is torn, gnawing at his lip as he tries to decide on an answer, but his silence is one you will accept. With a fond smile you shrug, reassuring him to the best of your ability.

“That’s okay, tilt your head forward, hun” you are quick to move on, distracting him from the dangerous thoughts that threaten to surface, and it works, the pet name is a pleasant sound falling from your lips.

He obeys, tilting his head forward and closing his eyes as the water runs down his cheekbones. The pop of the shampoo bottle alerts him to your intentions and a sprig of mint fills the steamy air. Your fingers massage his scalp as you clean the brown tresses and Daryl bows beneath your touch. He slumps forward, head resting upon your shoulder in full submission and you pressed a lingering kiss to his temple, fingers never ceasing their ministrations until they begin to cramp a while later. You don’t want to move him, savouring the weight of his body against yours but the suds need to be washed out, so you tap his shoulder. Daryl washes out the remaining suds himself before he looks down at you, guilt suddenly creeping upon him.

“Do yer want me... to, ya know”

Bashfully, he gestures to you, but you shake your head laughing.

“No Daryl, it’s fine, but thank you” you say sincerely, “now, let’s get you out of here and into clean clothes, hey”.

The shower gets switched off and the pair of you emerge from the stuffy cubicle. Daryl grabs the towels first, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. There is no third towel to cover his back and he is painfully aware of that fact, tensing up as he realises that he is closest to the door and will have to turn around to walk out. Once again you amaze him, slipping by to walk out first and Daryl lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

When Daryl appears, he finds you in the small bedroom, stretched out on the bed with your eyes closed.

“Tired?”

“Warm showers make me sleepy” you confess, opening your eyes to look up at the man sheepishly.

He hums and remains standing at the end of the bed, hands tucked into the pockets of the old sweatpants that hang from his hips and takes his time to admire you. He doesn’t admire your clothes, although the sight of you in snug clothes makes the fluttering in his chest go faster; but he soaks in your comfortableness, your trust.

He doesn’t ask if you could move and make room for him, wordlessly you do it anyway when Daryl begins to climb onto the bed. He flops onto the mattress once he reaches the pillow, heaving a sigh as his body melts into the softness of the mattress. He rarely allows himself to sleep on it, leaving it for you to use while he takes the couch or the chair outside on the porch. And just like the shower, he realises how much he has been missing out on. And he is sick of it.

“Yer too good to me, Y/N” he mumbles, and you chuckle, shaking your head before you roll onto your side to face him.

“Nah, just doing what is right”. What you deserve.

You both fall silent, letting the post-shower haze settle over you and allowing your bodies to relax.

You are on the cusp of sleep when you feel Daryl’s hand slip into yours, calloused skin brushing against yours and instinctively you tighten your grip, Daryl squeezing back.

“Thank you” he murmurs.

You don’t say anything, fighting the pull of sleep and with a last-ditch effort you curl into Daryl, his arms sweeping you closer to his chest and cocooned in his security, you allow yourself to drift to sleep.

Alexandria may be weak, but it’s given you a safe haven, and maybe it isn’t all that bad.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagines #daryl dixon imagines #twd imagine #daryl dixon/reader #twd imagines #daryl dixon fanfic #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine #ly-canthropewrites #fluff #sfw

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years ago

Text

two-steppin’

pairing: agent whiskey / reader

word count: 1428

summary: jack surprises you with a pair of boots and plans to go dancing. problem is, you’re woefully unprepared

a/n: line dancing is a superior workout imo, enjoy my self-indulgent desire to dance with one (1) cowboy. ps, another post made 100% on mobile bc i’m bored out of my mind

when jack told you three weeks ago that he was going to take you line dancing, you thought he was joking. he was set to be gone for two weeks plus on some mission or another, and had sprung the date idea on you while lounging in his arms, blankets tangled around your limbs.

but then, the night after he told you about the date idea, a new pair of cowboy boots are on your shared bed with a little note telling you the best ways to get them used to your feet. he knew exactly what he was doing; he had left for the mission that morning and put the boot box on the corner of the bed to greet you when you woke up.

he couldn’t be serious.

you immediately called him at work demanding an explanation. “i told ya already sweetheart, we’re going line dancing soon and i want your feet to be used to wearing the boots. it ain’t fun to dance in boots that ain’t broke in.” other voices are heard from his end and before you can verbally obliterate him for the audacity, he tells you he loves you and will talk to you later, hanging up with a click.

jack’s a stubborn man on his best days, acting more like a mule than a man on the worst of them. there’s no sense in trying to talk him out of the dancing he planned on, so with an indignant huff, you put on a pair of socks and slip the boots onto your feet. nothing could have prepared you for how comfortable they would be, the extra inch or two they gave you and the leather felt under your fingertips.

you had three weeks to figure out how you were going to keep from looking like a fool at whatever bar(s) he took you to. based on his insistence, you knew that it would mean a lot to him if you went dancing with him, and who were you to deny your cowboy of the simple pleasures?

the first step was to buy clothes that matched the vibe jack was going for with the boots he bought — a couple pairs of bootcut wranglers, a few plaid shirts and tanks to wear under them, and just for shits and giggles, a stetson that pulled it all together. you used the card he gave you when he added you to the account his statesman pay deposited into, knowing full well if he took a gander at the statement, he’d see that you were going all out.

the clothes were done, so now it was time for the line dance tutorials.

in all honesty, the only line dance you truly remembered was footloose, and if jack ever heard you admit that you knew he’d be ashamed. you couldn’t help it though, footloose was a classic almost of the same caliber as dirty dancing.

youtube was your best friend during your nightly at-home lessons. you wouldn’t have believed anyone if they told you just how many types of line dancing existed. after your first lesson, you decided to start wearing the boots around the house as much as possible like jack said to and it made a hell of a difference.

through all your searching and dancing, you stumbled upon a song you weren’t sure how to describe. country… rap? hick hop? there weren’t enough words in your vocabulary to make sense of it. but despite your initial confusion at the genre-meshing, the dances for it were actually quite fun. it was a catchy song, one of those that would send adrenaline in your veins when the first notes hit your ears.

by the end of week two, there was no telling how many country songs you now knew the words and dances to by heart. it was safe to say you were proficient in several dances, and a few that you could do blindfolded with your hands tied behind your back.

you were confident that you wouldn’t make him look like a fool, which was your biggest concern from the word go. jack was a dancer through and through. he’d sway you gently in the living room to conway twitty and twirl you in time with tom petty, the grin on his face wider than the brazos. he could cut up every rug he stepped foot on and everyone would know it as soon as they started up the music. every bit of swagger he entered a room with would be all the more prominent when he found his way to a dance floor, and now you were actually excited to join him instead of watch from the sidelines.

then you get a phone call. jack’s ringtone plays its signature chorus of “save a horse, ride a cowboy” and you actually start singing with the song before remembering that it was only playing because of a phone call. gentle words are exchanged, questions about how your days have gone since the last you talked.

“i’m gonna be late comin’ home sugar,” jack’s voice is dejected as he tells you the news and you desperately want to kiss the blues away from him. “there’s a chance i may not make it back in time to go dancin’ like i wanted, it’s all up in the air right now.” a couple days after he had left, he told you more about the date he had planned. it was a gala that hosted a dancing competition that raised money for local homeless shelters and protested against anti-homeless architecture.

“that’s alright jack, don’t beat yourself up about it. besides, it’ll give me more time to perfect my boot scootin’ boogie.” he laughs at your corny joke and you’re happier to hear him smile despite his plans possibly falling through.

“well you do that sugarplum, i’ll call you as soon as i can.”

“stay safe jack, i love you.”

“i love you too, see you soon.”

it was the morning of the gala and there was no telling whether jack would be home in time. you talked to him yesterday afternoon and he had been cautiously optimistic at the idea of being on a jet headed home that evening, but he would have told you had he been able to. all you could do in the meantime was get everything ready that you needed to and wait it out.

the hours ticked by and soon, the gala was less than an hour away from starting. no word had been sent about jack’s whereabouts but you did your best not to worry. he was a highly experienced agent and would do what he needed to in order to come home to you. in the meantime, you decided to do last-minute refreshers on a few of the favored dances you’d been working on. there was nothing else to do and no sense in getting ready to go to a gala you weren’t sure you would be attending, so why not?

jack wanted to find the nearest cliff and drive off it. he couldn’t believe that he was going to be late getting home to get ready for a date that he had planned for you both. there was no time to deal with debriefings or even call you to give a heads up, he had to get home as soon as possible.

he knew that he was probably making much more noise than was warranted as he all but fell through the front door, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. when he walked into the living room and found you in stern concentration, following along with the tv as it taught one dance or another, all he could do was watch.

he leaned against the doorframe, completely enamored by the sight of you dancing yourself silly. the way you grinned in triumph when you nailed a hard move, the laughter that rang out when you nearly tripped over your own feet, it had him under a spell. when this last song ended, he made his presence known with a quiet entrance into the living room. he snagged the remote from the arm of the couch and put on another song, choosing to simply sway with you as you relaxed into his touch.

“what about the gala, jack?” you asked after the third slow song crooned from the surround sound speakers.

jack just smiled and kissed your forehead, pulling you closer. “they can have their fun without us. i’ve got more important plans to tend to, sweetheart.”

whiskey taglist: @catsnkooks @blue-space-porgs @obirain n @themarcusmoreno @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @captainrexstan @battletales @darthadeline @roseofalderaan @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @max--phillips @andysficrecs @bisexual-space-slut

#agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #kingsman: the golden circle #pedro pascal #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels imagine #jack daniels

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tothemeadow · 4 years ago

Note

HIIIII

I seen ur previous giyuu stuff 👀 and I was wondering if u could write a giyuu smut with a fem reader maybe giyuu misses his s/o so much it dont matter who top, but like ty so much if u do this but feel free to ignore 💃🕺

I will reveal myself later 😳

I decided to put these two together because why the fuck not.

‘you’re all i’ve got tonight’ / Tomioka G. x Reader

warnings: NSFW, oral sex, somnophilia (maybe?)

words: 1,479

(a/n): eyo I wrote 3 smuts today so I’m just gonna- 🏃‍♀️

All he wants is you.

It’s been too long – a month too long. Normally, Giyuu wouldn’t mind being away from home for such a long period of time, but ever since you entered his life, he can barely stand being away from you. It was rough saying goodbye after his crow told him he had to leave, to travel so away from you.

Since the day of his departure, Giyuu’s being craving to hold you in his arms, to whisper sweet nothings in your ears. Once upon a time in his life, Giyuu had been used to loneliness, to its dark grasp and icy clutches. He never wants to feel that way in his life ever again, but, as is his luck, that’s the exact situation he found himself in.

He thinks that it’s this reason why he’s so eager to find you when he finally arrives home. No, it’s not desperation. It’s definitely not horniness, either. Giyuu was never one to have a high sex drive – or at least he thought so. During his long-term mission, he’s learned a lot of things about himself.

He finds you fast asleep in the bed the two of you shared; with the funds he makes as a Pillar, he surprised you by buying some fancy Western style bed to use instead of the usual futon. His heart swells in his chest at the sight of you beneath the covers, the slight rising and falling of your chest. On their own accord, his feet carry him over to the bed. He slides in underneath the covers without further thought, not even bothering to remove his multicolored haori.

He shudders at the warmth emitting from your body, the natural scent of your skin. He involuntarily groans, burying his face in your neck. Placing open-mouthed kisses to flesh, his breath hitches in his throat when you stir, but you don’t wake up. He really should put an end to this sort of behavior, but he’s missed you so bad. His impatience grows as he shifts on top of you, slithering his way down your body with his mouth and hands. A simple tug at your yukata has the material falling loose at your sides, revealing smooth skin and perky breasts.

Giyuu bites his lip at the sight of your luscious, naked body; he urgently presses kisses to the exposed flesh, following the invisible line from your sternum down the swell of your stomach and stopping at your pubic bone. His pupils are blown wide from both the dark and his insatiable lust. Oh, gods, he needs you now.

It all starts with small, heated kisses against your inner thigh. You stir in your sleep once more, but you have yet to wake up. No matter – Giyuu knows the perfect way to greet you. His tongue sweeps over the crevice of your thigh, just barely grazing the side of your most intimate part, but he can’t find it in him to rush. While he is desperate your touch, he wants to draw this out, to savor every single second of it. Slowly, ever so slowly, he runs over your slit with the flat of his tongue.

Your body twitches beneath him, a soft sigh falling from your parted lips. His ears perk up at the sound. It’s been an entire month since he last heard your beautiful voice and those delicious little noises you make. So he does it again and again, tongue flicking over your slit as he slowly pushes it in. The sigh you release is louder this time, your fingers twitching at your sides.

“Giyuu…” you murmur.

Giyuu’s cock twitches in his pants. You’re dreaming of him. Knowing that you’re having a wet dream about him kicks him into a higher gear; shoving his tongue fully inside of you, he clutches onto your supple thighs as he fucks you with his tongue.

The noises dropping from your lips are nothing short of sinful – ragged gasps, high-pitched pants, whimpers of his name. Giyuu’s fingers join his tongue, the tips seeking out that spongy spot that makes you lose your damn mind. Happiness bubbles in Giyuu’s chest as you suddenly grip onto his hair.

“G-Giyuu?” you stutter, your voice heavy with sleep. You moan when he hums into your pussy.

“I’m home, baby,” Giyuu husks. His voice is so deep and raspy, the arousal lining his tone clear as day. He quickly kisses your thigh. “Gods, I missed you so much.”

Your eyes flutter as his fingers continue to pump in and out of you, the digits curling deliciously against your ridged walls. “I… I missed you too,” you murmur. Scrambling onto your elbows, you urge the blanket away, fully revealing Giyuu between your legs. You immediately moan at the sight; even through the dark, you can make out the fucked-out expression on Giyuu’s face, the slick from your pussy clinging to his mouth and chin.

“Shit,” Giyuu mutters.

You’re about to ask him what he means, but then he’s shooting upwards, his mouth seeking out yours. You sigh as he slips his tongue into your mouth, the taste of your essence heavy on his tongue. His fingers continue with their urgent pace, his thumb joining in and playing with your clit.

“You feel so good, baby,” Giyuu purrs against your lips. You gasp as he drops his hips against yours, the hard line of his cock pressing against the material of his hakama. The head of his cock drags against your slit, your slick wetting the front of his pants even further. “I missed this too much,” he admits with a grunt.

His breathy voice makes your blood boil. A heavy knot forms in the base of your stomach, deliciously hot and irresistible. Rugged pants fill your ears as Giyuu makes haste of removing his clothing; a moment passes before you join him, your hands undoing the buttons of his uniform jacket before your sliding it down his shoulders. A hiccup breaks free from your throat as you feel his bare skin with your palms, the jagged flesh of his scars.

Silently, Giyuu takes a hand in one of his and guides it to his crotch. He chokes on a pleasure filled sigh as you wrap your fingers around him, the weight of his cock feeling heavenly in your hand. You furiously pump his cock as his fingers quicken up their pace. Wet sounds fill the room, mix with your heavy groans and pleading words.

Giyuu kisses you once more as he places the head of his cock against your slit, a throaty groan bubbling from the depths of his chest as he pushes himself into you. With a weak cry of his name, you cling to his shoulders, your velvety walls rippling around him. The pace he sets is slow, but he’s thrusting into you so deep that you’re certain he’s hitting your cervix. He fucks into you thoroughly, the tight heat of your cunt almost too much to take.

“You feel so much better than I remember,” Giyuu says as he presses his forehead to yours. You jolt when he slips a thumb over one of your nipples. “You know how hard it’s been being so far away from you?” he grunts. “I longed to see your face every single day.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “It was hard for me, too,” you tell him. “I can’t stand waking up without you by my side.”

A curse graces your ears as your walls tighten around his cock. “Next time, you’re coming with me.”

A pleased smile forms on your face as you rock your hips back against him. “That better be a promise. Fuck me, baby,” you whisper.

Coming to a complete stop, you feel Giyuu shift on the bed before he’s snapping his cock back into you with a solid thrust; your back arches as you cry out, your walls tightening impossibly around him.

“I’m not going to last long if you keep squeezing like that,” Giyuu grits.

He fucks into you hard and fast; his desperation bleeds from his pores, powers the strength in his movements. He kisses you passionately, his hand grabbing onto your jaw and tilting your head in a way that makes the kiss deeper than it was before. You moan into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulder blades and raking down his skin, leaving angry red trails in their wake.

“Gods, I could fuck you forever,” he husks.

“Then do it,” you urge. “Show me how much you missed me.”

You cry out as his fingers frantically play with your clit, flicking at the sensitive bud and pinching it. You can’t get over just how good he feels, his cockhead punching into your most sensitive areas with each stroke of his hips.

“Oh, I will, baby. I’ve got all night.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #request

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guileheroine · 4 years ago

Text

midwinter

some seasonal slice of life written to take The Everthere series over 100k🎉 (‘blanket fort’ prompt picked via twitter poll) / korrasami / 1.2k / ao3

There had already been another fresh snowfall since they got back home. As Korra gazed out of the window, waiting for the tea to steep, anticipatory thoughts of being seduced in the blanket fort also brewing, she watched the footprints and pawprints they’d left on the front porch disappear. It took minutes, the snowflakes fat and fast. She felt the ghost of them on her lashes— how she’d swept them away with her mittens a few hours ago.

Usually it was just Korra and Naga on the not-really-morning-anymore walk, but today was Sunday so Asami came along, forgoing her usual early morning run. The air was crisp and cool over the white lawns of the park, and it reminded Korra of home, the other one, her first home. They made snow angels in the thick drift, Korra lying ensconced in the one Asami made like a cookie in the mold, making a mental note to put some cookies in the oven when they got back. Then they made a tall snowman, with a torso of packed snow, surprisingly well defined.

“It’s Tenzin,” Asami said, expertly shaping a vein into its head with a twig that she wielded like a palette knife. Afterwards, since she’d been lacking in things to post on Instagram lately, she gave it quite the photoshoot.

Looking out now, Korra thought they should make a snowman for their own porch next. She returned to the kitchen, stirred the tea and ate what was left of her cookies, off the high shelf where she had placed them out of reach of Naga. Asami was upstairs in her bedroom, engineering the fort. When Korra left her, she had been considering the space, estimating the lengths of the sashes of various dressing gowns, a lot more seriously than Korra had ever intended when she brought up the idea of a blanket fort. But then, she should have known that Asami wouldn’t be up for a task like that unless she could impress—both Korra and herself.

Anyway, when the cookies were gone and Korra was done dawdling downstairs, she took the tea up. When she entered the bedroom, she drew out her gasp of excitement. The fort Asami had designed was exactly the feat of construction she thought she would find, but seeing it practically finished kindled new delight. Asami had fetched the laundry lines and used the guiding parameters of the rug to make a structure more like an actual marquee, much higher and squarer than the tentlike fort Korra had had in her head.

“This. This is real estate,” she said, handing Asami the tray of cups hurriedly so she could hop inside. “You could hang a chandelier in here.”

Asami carefully set the little tray down inside the fort without entering herself. “Well, this isn’t quite that.” Korra recognised the lights she was stringing up above the front from the living room. “Okay, now we’re done.”

She settled on the pillows gleefully once inside, wrapping her hands around her mug. They basked in the new ambience for a moment, warming up silently with the tea. Asami put her mug to her cheek, a familiar gesture that compelled Korra to reach out and see if her hands were still cold. Asami could take hours to thaw.

Korra took another sip. “I think we should have an outroom like this, it’d be cozy. Or like a treehouse.”

At that Asami finally turned onto her side to face Korra, bringing her cup down. “You want a man cave? There are spare rooms in this house.”

“It’s not the same! The ceiling—“ Asami had used light colours, no doubt deliberately; between the white sheets there was a rosy pink blanket that gave the space light plenty, and a warm, romantic glow. There was no sharpness, no edges; Korra had the impression of floating on a cloud. “It has to be smaller than an actual room, right? So it feels organic.”

“Like a cabin... You gonna build it?”

“You can invest in one for me when we get married.”

“When we—” Asami snorted, her face screwing with incredulity, but she heard this one a lot—dealt it herself, too—so she was used to it. Usually she would glow and quip something like, Now why would we do that? But today she just said, “Well, let’s at least wait until the plague is well over. Maybe in the brave new world.”

Snow made it cleaner and quieter than ever out there, their world in here smaller than ever.

Swallowed up in all the softness and warmth, Korra found herself yawning. “Are you sick of me yet?”

“Are you sick of me?” Asami countered, batting her eyes lazily.

She wanted to be buttered up, whether she was aware of it or not. But Korra had been angling for that first. For a while, if she were honest, and she didn’t appreciate being rebuffed so readily.

“Maybe a lot,” she said. She expected one of the pillows in her face, but Asami just laughed, ceding with a shrug.

“None taken!”

She came and burrowed closer nonetheless, and Korra propped her elbow on the cushions so she could bend down and meet her, since there was no reason to do anything but cuddle in here, at least until someone got truly bored. If Asami unbent her knees she would only just fit in the blanket fort, but she was curled up just so to be able to rest under Korra’s chin. Korra sniffed her hair, and then stroked it lightly.

“It��s cold,” Asami said, getting smaller. “Should have turned up the heating first—” like there was definitely nothing she could do about it now. And she was right, Korra realised how resistant she was to the idea of Asami climbing out of her arms now.

“Well… you made your fort,” she said, as Asami moved her head to smile up at her. Korra pushed her off her chest gently so she would have the leverage to kiss her. “Now lie in it.”

Asami looked beautiful in the snow, because her hair was dark and striking against the hues. It was the same in here.

“O-ho. Not that sick of me, huh?” She grazed the wool of Korra’s sweatshirt with her nails when she kissed her yet more.

In the literal new light, Korra confirmed what she suspected, that it was just the house, just the room that was old. That if she was sick of Asami one moment, there was a very good chance that she wouldn’t be in the next. The desire to be entertained by Asami, or anything, was suddenly far away.

Instead, she thought about turning her over. Her face in the glut of cushions she had laid out, the way they would catch all her soft sounds. Close by, just beyond this wall of the fort, whenever she found the will to scale it, was the drawer where Asami kept her toys. Korra thought about which she might want... the one she said she never used much but liked sometimes when Korra did? That could be the touch of novelty they sorely needed.

After the tea. But she’d make sure to finish it while it was hot.

#korrasami #the everthere #rated m for sexcc thoughts #**

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willowbird · 4 years ago

Note

Congratulations on reaching 100 followers!!! A little WolfStar drabble about the first time they hold hands romantically would be lovely. <3

Ahh thank you so much!! And thank you for requesting some adorable WolfStar. I’ll admit I am ancient and it’s been about 15 years since I’ve actually written any WolfStar that anyone can see so I hope this still jives with the fandom and I hope you enjoy!!

---

Remus slipped as silently from his bed as possible, grimacing at the chill of the stone floor against his bare feet. James had stolen all of their rugs for some kind of scheme that Remus was sure they’d all regret later, and he wasn’t wearing any socks because he hated the feeling of them catching on the sheets as he attempted to get comfortable at night. As such, even when he did wear socks to bed, he usually ended kicking them off in the process of settling in.

This wouldn’t be an issue, but for the incredibly annoying (and annoyingly repetitive) occurrence of Sirius stealing his slippers -- a rather redundant action, considering he had been the one to purchase them for him last year for Christmas.

He thought he was so clever, the slippers being shaped like wolves and all. Then of course he decided to take himself for a thief and swiped them regularly for his own use.

As the slippers weren’t where Remus preferred to keep them in front of his nightstand, that meant that they were probably being held hostage by the nefarious dust bunnies lurking under Siruis’s bed. Unwilling to risk waking the other boy by rustling the drawn curtains of his four-poster, Remus opted to dig his socks out of the tangled blankets of the foot of his bed.

Two minutes later, Remus was sneaking quietly down the stairs. He bypassed the cozy armchairs by the dimly smoldering fireplace and held his breath as he crept past the study tables where two fourth-year girls had passed out atop a smattering of books, quills, and bits of parchment. Remus could see ink smudged on one of the girls’ cheeks from where she’d taken an essay as a pillow. If he wasn’t attempting to be stealthy, he might have slipped over to them to either nudge them awake and send them off to bed or at least snoop to see what class they were about to be behind in.

As it currently was, however, he did not want to wake them, so he curbed his curiosity and inched toward the portrait hole on sock-muffled feet. He got a whole six more steps before a quiet sound behind him had him whipping around.

“Sneaking off without me, Moony? I’m wounded.” Sirius was kneeling on the cushion of his favorite chair before the fire, arms folded over the back of it, his cheek cradled in the crook of his elbow. The tilt of his head and the position he had arranged himself in meant that only one devilish dimple teased from the corner of his mouth. Remus’s heart didn’t particularly seem to notice the lacking, considering it had instantly switched from the jolt of alarm to the familiar stutter of Merlin-be-damnd swooning the second he caught sight of him.

With all the suave and distinguished eloquence he possessed, Remus said, “Uhh...”

Sirius chuckled, a low and warm sound that reminded Remus of the crackling of the hearth and the fizz of butterbeer tickling his nose. Then the other boy stood from the chair and as he rounded it Remus’s eyes were drawn down to the happy-looking wolf faces on the slippers currently warming the other wizard’s feet.

Remus narrowed his eyes, lifted his gaze, and glared.

Sirius paused and damn him and those big brown puppy dog eyes and sheepish smile -- but Remus would not be swayed. Those were his slippers.

“Why did you even get me those slippers if you were just going to steal them all the time?” he hissed, keeping his voice low even as he cast a quick glance over at the two fourth-years. One let out a small snore; the other appeared to be drooling. Remus really hoped it wasn’t Transfiguration homework.

“No changing the subject,” Sirius chided quickly, changing the subject because apparently, he could set the rules and then also ignore them -- prat. “Where were you sneaking off to at...” he paused and looked up at the lion-faced pendulum clock on the mantel “...two o’clock in the morning?”

Remus sighed. He knew it was no use to argue with Sirius now, especially not as he could see the shadow of concern behind his mask of amused curiosity. A couple of weeks ago, he still might have tried to brush it off. He’d have fidgeted and shrugged, dodging around the subject until Sirius got the truth out of him or gave up for the moment.

Except... well, things had changed, hadn’t they? He and Sirius were... well, he wasn’t really sure what they were. No, that wasn’t true. He knew they were friends. But... they were also... more. That night in the forest had changed things between the two of them and just because they hadn’t exactly sat down and talked about it didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

“Remus?” Sirius spoke his name quietly, drawing him out of his thoughts.

He offered a small smile and shrugged. “Sorry. in my head again. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So you were going to... what, wander the castle on your own?” Sirius looked skeptical.

Heat touched Remus’s cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I was gonna go down to the lake, just to sit for a while, get out of my head a bit.” With the exception of the first day of term when the first-years were brought across the river on the boats, the boathouse beneath the castle was all but abandoned. Remus used that exit to get out to the lake, sitting at the edge of the narrow pier or walking the strip of ground against the castle to an old stone bench dedicated to some long-gone wizard whose name was mostly eroded away.

“In your socks?”

Remus scowled at him, which only made Sirius grin.

“Sorry,” Sirius amended through a chuckle before sobering. He gestured toward the fireplace with a nod. “Come sit with me instead? It’s cold out there.”

Remus felt warmth returning to his cheeks as he looked from Sirius to the fireplace and the various chairs and couches around it, then over to where the two girls were still snoozing on their homework.

“They aren’t waking up anytime soon,” Sirius said when he followed his gaze. “And we could sit on the small couch. I mean... if you wanted to.” The small couch had its back to the study tables. If the girls did wake up and look over, they wouldn’t see anything.

NOT THAT THEY WOULD BE DOING ANYTHING.

Remus was blushing so hard he felt dizzy and was only slightly mollified to see that Sirius was also tinged pink. Except, of course, that Remus thought Sirius’s blush was really, incredibly adorable so that didn’t really help matters.

Needing to move things along so he didn’t stand there any longer making a fool of himself, Remus cleared his throat lightly. “Y-yeah,” he squeaked. Then coughed and tried again a half-octave lower and closer to a normal speaking register for a sixteen-year-old boy as opposed to a nine-year-old girl. “Yeah. Sure. Good. Let’s yes. I mean, let’s do this. That. Not that we are doing anything! I mean--”

He stopped abruptly as Sirius reached out and grabbed his hand.

All the breath froze in his lungs as the whole world narrowed down to the warm weight wrapped around his fingers. Sirius looked about as surprised as he felt, but after a moment, instead of pulling away, Sirius adjusted his grip so that their fingers interlocked. His expression smoothed and he took a small step forward.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “I know. It’s... we don’t have to talk about it. But... will you sit with me?” There was a rawness in Sirius’s voice that pulled Remus out of his own head and the echo-chamber of his own pulse resounding between his ears. He really looked at Sirius -- looked at him and saw the dark eyes with the faint shadows under them, the slightly pursed lips, the traces of tension in his proud shoulders. Worry, hope, fatigue, and a tremulous vulnerability that Remus wasn’t sure he really showed anyone else.

Something inside Remus unlocked and relaxed. He squeezed Sirius’s hand and offered a small smile as he nodded. “Yeah. I... I would like that.”

Remus got to watch some of that tension fall off the other boy’s shoulders, got to watch the warmth seep into his eyes even as both dimples winked out to tease him now. Sirius tugged on his hand and Remus let him lead him over to the couch and pull him down beside him. The whole time, Remus was incredibly aware of the heat that was Sirius’s hand in his -- like it was an anchor of light tethering him to a secret universe only he and Sirius had access to. He’d known Sirius since his very first day at Hogwarts and over the years they’d probably held hands a hundred times over -- running from various bits of trouble and playing games and doing things as friends do them -- but this time... this was different.

Sirius held his hand, but it felt like he had his fingers right on the pulse of Remus’s heart.

When they were situated on the couch, side by side, Sirius still didn’t let go and Remus didn’t want him to. He squeezed lightly, and Sirius squeezed back. Then, after a moment there was a gentle weight against his arm, followed by the tickle of Sirius’s hair against his neck as his head found a pillow of his shoulder. Remus’s lungs tightened and his heart skipped. Then, making a decision, he let himself relax against the cushion. He let himself melt back and sink in. He let himself tilt his head in turn so that his cheek rested on the loveably tousled mess of Sirius’s hair.

They sat there as the fire quietly crackled and dimmed, neither speaking but neither needing to. All they needed was to be there, together -- shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

#asks #wolfywordweaver #wolfstar #hp marauders era #100 followers #my writing #omg its been 15 years since i've shown anyone anything i've written for this fandom #i really hope it doesn't suck #adorable hand holding #midnight cuddles

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cutesuki--bakugou · 5 years ago

Text

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC)

Story Rating: Explicit

Genre: Fluff / Romance / Domestic

Story Warnings: Phone sex, sexting, dirty and degrading talk, Bakugou’s really fluffy don’t @ me.

a/n: I was going to do like... the fake text screenshots along with this story and draw the pictures that they are sending to each other, but I was just getting too frustrated with it and I couldn’t find the time I needed to do it all, so I’m just gonna go with normal text lol. Maybe next time!

Tagging @lady-bakuhoe�� ‘cause she’s been so excited about this and pumping me up about it, and @rhombea ‘cause she read it over and helped me with it, and just because I adore them both. (*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

Art in banner by me

Me = Koge Cutesuki = Bakugou

Me 3:03 AM: I miss you, Katsuki. I can’t sleep. (>﹏<)

A small sigh left Koge’s lips as she stared at her phone screen, rolling over onto her side to face the wall. The spot beside her was empty, the pillow untouched and the sheets cold, which was something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to. Sure, she had spent many nights alone when her lover was off on a trip or on a late-night job, but that didn’t matter. No amount of time could make her get used to being alone, not when she was so used to and craved his presence. It was truly miserable when he was gone, even though she did everything she could think of to try and distract herself.

She spent time with her friends, watched movies, played video games, did yoga and meditation, went shopping, read books, and anything else she could possibly squeeze in so that the only time she was undistracted was while attempting to sleep. Along with texts and phone calls from him, she could get by, especially if the trip was only a few days or a week. But right now, he had been gone for a month. All the distractions in the world couldn’t stop her loneliness now, and what was worse, he was on the other side of the world in America.

There was a huge hero conference being held in New York and being one of the top young heroes in Japan, he had been invited along with quite a few others. He was horribly busy, every day being either an event for the conference, meetings, or doing touristy things with his friends that had gone with him. Koge was glad that he wasn’t alone, with at least Kirishima and Midoriya there to keep him company, but damn was she jealous. She wished that she had been able to go with him, too, but her work responsibilities at home prevented her from leaving.

It didn’t help that the times were so different on top of everything else. It was difficult for Koge to find time to talk to Bakugou for more than a few minutes over the phone, since he was 13 hours behind her in time. Right now, for him, it was just past two in the afternoon, meaning that he was probably in the middle of an event or maybe eating lunch.

Meanwhile, Koge laid in bed, alone, cold, and bundled up in multiple fleece blankets for comfort as she waited for his response.

When her phone buzzed in her hand sooner than expected, her eyes were instantly on the new text message, cuddling up tighter under the blankets.

Cutesuki 3:07 AM: you need to try to sleep, utsuro. its late.

Me 3:07 AM: I know, but… It’s hard without you. (｡•́︿•̀｡) I’m cold.

Cutesuki 3:08 AM: i already know youre bundled up under all those fucking blankets, probably wearing my clothes, too. spray some of my cologne on my pillow or something.

Me 3:08 AM: You know me so well. ( ◡‿◡ *) I am just as you say. And I already put some on my pillow… I didn’t want to mess with yours.

Cutesuki 3:09 AM: considerate. of course youre in my clothes, might as well throw all of yours out.

Me 3:09 AM: Hehe… ( ´ ▽ ` ) They’re just so comfy!

Cutesuki 3:09 AM: which?

Immediately, Koge felt heat rush to her cheeks, biting down onto her bottom lip as her stomach fluttered. He wanted to know what she was wearing. He had to be out and about right now, so what was he getting at?

During trips like this, the two of them were no strangers to phone sex, exchanging sexy pictures or messing around on video chat if they were able. Sadly, Bakugou was also sharing a hotel room with his friends to save on funds, so time alone was scarce for him. In fact, the entire time he had been gone, they hadn’t been able to have more than a slightly flirtatious conversation before he had to go. Koge’s toys could satisfy her in the moment, but nothing could ever compare to the way he made her feel and the pleasure they could create together. Just the thought of the intimacy they shared made her body grow hot, squeezing her bare thighs together to try and relieve the new aching at her hips.

Cutesuki 3:11 AM: well?

Sitting up, Koge reached over and turned on the lamp on the bedside table before leaning back against the headboard. Holding her phone out, she took a selfie, doing her best to make sure she got a flattering angle that showed her body beneath his black skull t-shirt and her bare legs, with a playful smirk and a peeking tongue being all that was visible of her face. Satisfied, she sent it to him, settling down to wait with her legs stretched out in front of her. As she waited, her heart only pounded harder in her chest, hoping that is what he had wanted to see.

Me 3:12 AM: (*´︶`*)

Cutesuki 3:16 AM: fuck.

Cutesuki 3:16 AM: it would be that shirt.

Cutesuki 3:16 AM: youre so predictable.

Me 3:17 AM: Well if you know, why’d you want to see? (¬‿¬ )

Cutesuki 3:18 AM: i need something to jack off to.

Koge’s body was immediately covered in goosebumps, making her shiver and squeal quietly to herself, bringing her phone up to her lips and kicking her legs like an excited child. Maybe he finally had some time to himself? Or was he hiding away in a bathroom somewhere? Any option turned her on.

Me 3:18 AM: That’s all that’ll get you off, huh? ┐(︶▽︶)┌ Guess my job is done.

Cutesuki 3:19 AM: dont be a smartass. more.

Me 3:19 AM: More? (◕‿◕✿)

Cutesuki 3:19 AM: now bitch. or would you rather miss out on this?

Within the next few seconds, he sent in his own picture, displaying his hips, clad in grey sweatpants. He seemed to be sitting on a bed with what looked to be a hotel room behind him, but that didn’t matter to Koge. All she was focused on was his hand, which was clutching onto the hard form of his cock beneath the fabric, showing off his size. Feeling as if her heart was in her throat, Koge squeezed and rubbed her thighs together, looking over every inch of him she could see, from the peek of his belly beneath his shirt to the strong veins that ran along his rugged hand and up his arm. “Damn you, Katsuki! You hot asshole.”

Me 3:20 AM: Challenging me, huh? (ಠ_ಠ)

Cutesuki 3:20 AM: im threatening you. show me your tits.

Unable to stop the smirk that crossed her lips, Koge pulled the t-shirt up, holding the bottom hem of it between her teeth. With only slight position and maneuvering, Koge was able to get a similar selfie as the one a moment ago, showing her legs, torso, and mouth. This time, she had the shirt taught so that it held her breasts in place, only showing a nice and plump peek of the bottom of them, along with her stomach. Her mouth was in a teasing smile, teeth shown clamped down around the shirt, and little pale blue undies fit snugly on her hips.

Me 3:23 AM: (¯▿¯)

Cutesuki 3:26 AM: fuck youre such a tease.

Cutesuki 3:26 AM: i miss you.

A new picture came along with his message, bringing a new wave of heat to her already aching cunt. His cock was now out of his pants, hard and irresistible, crowned with a dribble of precum that had begun its descent down the underside of his head. He wasn’t touching it, using his free hand to hold his sweats down out of the way instead, but Koge could still see a little dark area that had gotten wet before he decided to expose himself. He had also removed his shirt at some point, so his muscular frame was visible.

Giving a frustrated groan, Koge slipped her hand between her legs, beginning to lightly stroke along her sex outside of her underwear. Already soaked through, she couldn’t get her eyes off the picture, nibbling at her bottom lip as she pleasured herself. Every vein and girthy inch of him had her entire body on fire, wanting more than anything for him to shove that beautiful cock down her throat. She missed his hands on her body, the warmth of him against her and how delicious he tasted.

Me 3:28 AM: Ooh, I get the dick before I even show you the tits? You must be horny.

Cutesuki 3:28 AM: you’re killing me.

Me 3:29 AM: ԅ(≖‿≖ԅ)

Sinking down a bit more against the headboard, Koge pulled the t-shirt up over her breasts, being sure to hold her arms in a way that nicely squished them together. Her recently fully healed nipple piercings gleamed in the dim light, and since they were so enticing, Koge decided to get a shot of the other piercing. Getting her mouth in the frame, she opened wide and let her tongue loll out, displaying the piercing on the wet muscle as well. He had yet to really get the chance to play with her with them both fully healed, so she knew this would set him off.

Cutesuki 3:32 AM: fuck. I want to fuck that pretty mouth

Me 3:33 AM: Want to fuck my throat raw, huh? Or maybe my tits?

Cutesuki 3:33 AM: show them closer.

Me 3:33 AM: nuh uh. Pic for pic, right?

Koge moved her fingers back between her legs, rubbing her clit on the outside of her soaked panties. Though, what she received wasn’t a picture. It was a video, the preview making her immediately slip her hand inside her underwear for direct and more vigorous contact.

Pressing play, she felt her entire body quiver at the view, which was filmed from where she would assume his left knee would be. The frame tilted up, his hips all the way up to his nose was visible, showing a clear view of him pumping his cock and frustrated snarl.

“Pic for pic, Utsuro? You fucking tease. Hmn, fuck-“ His voice cut off with a grunt, followed by a deep groan as he picked up the pace on jacking off. “Show me what you really want, whore.”

When the video cut off, Koge couldn’t resist playing it again, beginning to plunge two of her fingers in and out of her pussy as she watched him. It was so hot, his voice so gruff and filled with passion, that sexy growl with each degrading word making her heart race faster. She could only imagine what he’d be doing with that sexual tension; his hand around her throat as he fucked her into the mattress. Or perhaps his fist balled up in her hair while he made her gag on his cock.

Although she didn’t want to stop, she took a moment to slip her undies off, tossing them away. Positioning the phone, Koge used her free hand to spread her glistening pussy open, showing him just how wet she was.

Me 3:40 AM: I want your dick inside me, Katsuki. I want you to fuck me like the little horny bitch I am.

Cutesuki 3:41 AM: good girl.

Me 3:41 AM: I want to hear you. Can you call me?

The instant the phone began to ring, and his adorably innocent picture appeared on screen, Koge answered it, holding the phone up to her ear as she continued to rub delicious circles on her clit. “Katsuki…” She couldn’t restrain a soft moan, slipping two of her fingers into her cunt at the ragged sound of his breathing. “I wish you were here with me.”

“You just can’t stand being without my cock, huh, little whore?” Bakugou’s voice was deep and quiet, making Koge sink further down to lay and dig her fingers in deeper. She could almost feel his body on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress as he hissed in her ear, his thick fingers teasing her pussy in punishment. “You’re such a nasty fuck, always begging for me to fuck you.”

Koge was sure to let her voice flow freely, not restricting and moans or gasps of pleasure. “I love it so much, Katsuki. I love your big dick inside me! I want to cum all over it-” She paused just to hear the soft and frustrated grunts he made, even able to hear his hand working over his cock in a quick and steady rhythm. “Yes, Katsuki. You’re close, aren’t you, baby?” Much to her surprise, Koge found that even she was getting close to cumming quickly with just her fingers, which was a feat in of itself. After years of being with Bakugou, of growing so used to the way he fucked her, she found that something so tame as fingering herself couldn’t usually get the job done. A toy or two usually had to be used to get her off, but tonight, all she needed was the sound of his voice and a vivid imagination.

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ close. Damn it, Utsuro, your voice is fucking hot. And those shitty piercings… fuck!”

“Mm, that’s right,” Koge’s voice hitched, moving her fingers back to her clit to work herself over the edge. “That’s it, Katsuki! Cum for me-” She was cut off again by her own moan, leaning her head back into her pillow as her hips arched up into her fingers. Straining against the sore burning in her forearm, she forced her hand to continue rubbing, listening closely to Bakugou’s own groans and curses of pleasure. She could tell the exact moment that he came, his voice growing into a deeper growl and trembling with relieved sighs. He couldn’t hold it for very long, and just the thought that he had been wanting her so badly immediately pushed Koge over the edge as well.

Entire body quivering and twitching with the force of her orgasm, Koge clutched her thighs together, slowly and lightly letting her fingers slide across her pulsing sex to ride out the orgasm. In truth, she wasn’t sure how loud she had been or what she might have said when she came. All she had done was listen to Bakugou as he finished, imagining that tight grip on her hips and his hot release inside her. She could feel those rough and calloused hands slide up her sides, caressing her body so close and lovingly after ravaging her completely.

Relaxing her body back against the bed, Koge rolled over onto her side, nuzzling her face against her pillow and taking in the scent of his cologne. On the other end, she could hear him still panting to catch his breath, though a sharp chuckle cut him off.

“You sniffing some dirty boxers, Utsuro?”

“What?! No! I’ve never been that desperate.” Koge couldn’t resist her own soft giggle, smiling against the pillowcase. “I told you, I put some of your cologne on my pillow.”

“Stalker.”

Before she could respond, Koge got a message alert, pulling her phone away from her ear. Putting him on speaker, she opened the message, feeling her entire body flush hot again at the sight of him. Hand still around his dick, his lower stomach, sweatpants and fingers had dribbles of his cum, gleaming against the well-lit room. With a groan, Koge rubbed her thighs together again. “Man, I wanna lick it off!”

“Where’s mine?”

Sitting up again, Koge got into another pose, making sure her chest was exposed along with her puffy and wet pussy that was still tender with the need for more attention. Lips also in the frame, she puckered them in a sweet kiss, her fingers in a cute peace sign to go with it. After sending it, she pulled the shirt down and got comfortable again, smiling as she heard him give a short chortle.

“Cute.”

“You’re cute.”

“That’s my new phone background.”

“No! Someone will see it!”

“No one ever sees my phone, stupid. I’m not an idiot like you who leaves it out where everyone can see the screen. Besides, they’ll catch a glimpse of the most beautiful woman they’ll ever see. That’s a privilege.”

Cheeks flushing, Koge cuddled her blankets to her tightly, nuzzling herself into her pillow. “That’s not true… I’m not the most beautiful.”

“You are to me.”

“You’re too sweet. Turning me into mush over here when I can’t kiss you. Usually I’m the one doing the sweet talking.”

“I miss you. This last week can’t go by fast enough. All this shit is great for my brand, but damn, I’m worn out. All this social interaction is fucked.”

“Is that why you’re in your hotel room today? Isn’t it like two in the afternoon?”

“I didn’t have a panel today to go to, but Kirishima and Deku did. I could have gone out, but I decided to stay in and relax. I’m kinda glad you weren’t able to sleep.”

Reaching over, Koge turned off the bedside table lamp, placing the phone down on his pillow as she snuggled up nice and tight into her blankets. “Aw, I had good luck then today. I’m really glad. Tell me about it! How’s it been?”

Koge wasn’t sure how long they talked, with him chatting on and on about what was happening, who he had met, and what benefits the convention had towards his hero branding. They laughed and got annoyed together. Bashed on this person or praised this company. Reminisced about what they missed of each other and what they wanted to do when he returned. But, at one point, Koge drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice and his scent on her pillow.

When she awoke to the sound of her alarm going off, Koge yawned and gave a heavy stretch, snatching her phone off the bed beside her, since it had at some point fallen off his pillow. Turning off the alarm, she looked at the time, immediately feeling guilt weigh heavily on her chest. “Oh no, I fell asleep talking to him… My poor Katsuki.”

Rolling over onto her back, she went into her text messages to send him a good morning and apologize, but what she saw there instead made her stop. Bakugou had cleaned up and changed into some new lounge clothes, getting kind of an awkward selfie of him with the city view behind him as he stood on the balcony of his hotel room. It was a cute and innocent exchange compared to the debauchery that had occurred just a few hours ago, and it brought a fluttering to Koge’s stomach.

Cutesuki 5:11 AM: i could tell you fell asleep from your snoring. its cute.

Cutesuki 5:11 AM: glad i could make your stubborn ass fall asleep.

Cutesuki 5:11 AM: love you. call me around 10. the two idiots will be gone for a while tonight. maybe we can have round 2.

Cutesuki 5:11 AM: xo

Smiling, Koge opened her camera and took a picture of her own, sleepy faced and smiling, still bundled up in her blankets. Attaching it to her message, she put the phone down once she responded, giving another stretch and a rub of her eyes.

Me 8:02 AM: I love you too, my Katsuki. I’m sorry I crashed. (╥﹏╥)

Cutesuki 8:03 AM: new bg picture.

Me 8:03 AM: What?? (・・;)ゞ Just pick one! (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ Cutesuki 8:04 AM: youre beautiful in all of them, dumbass, i cant pick.

Cutesuki 8:04 AM: cant text right now. call me around 10. love you.

Me 8:04 AM: I love you more! (♡‿♡) Cutesuki 8:05 AM: youll never. xo

Me 8:05 AM: (´ ε ` )♡

#bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x oc #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia oc #oc #original character #bnha oc #koge #bakugou x koge #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #cutesuki-oc #cutesuki-lemons

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greennightspider · 5 years ago

Text

Hearts Entwined (Dwalin Oneshot)

Author’s Note: First time writing for the LOTR/HOBBIT fandom so be gentle! Just a bit of Dwalin fluff because he’s mah boy.

Summary: Joining a company of Dwarves you thought that your hair would be the least of your worries. But as it turns out, it matters more than you thought.

Dwalin x Reader

The sun had just crawled over the mountains when Thorin decided it was time to make camp. At his words you and some of the other company fell to your knees in exhaustion, you rolling on your back as you steadied your breathing.

“I feel like my legs are gonna fall off.” Ori whined, as he lay collapsed on the ground beside you, to which you chuckled.

“Don’t you live in mountains?” You turned your head.

“Emphasis on the ‘in’. Its not like we climb up and down these every day.” Bofur groaned.

You could tell who the more battle hardy members were, as more of the older men of the troop stood unfazed. One dwarf in particular looking like he had just gone for a morning jog.

“Aw come on you whippersnappers, you’re fifty years too old to let a leisurely walk like this defeat ya.” Dwalin grinned, poking at your leg with his boot.

“Lesiurely??!” Ori panted.

“Walk??!” You cried.

Your dramatics caused many in the troupe to laugh heartily, which was a much needed mood-lifter after such a long day. Even Thorin the Serious smiled as he passed you by.

“Come on, we’ll make for camp.”

You lay on the ground for a moment more, letting your eyes cover your gaze as you enjoyed the view of a certain dwarf, sweat glistening his muscles and brow in the waning sunlight.

Perhaps climbing mountains did have their perks.

Even though it had only been two weeks, it felt as though you had been a part of this rag-tag troupe for years. You were an unexpected surprise, not unlike Bilbo, however your meeting was far from peaceful. They had found you tied up as a troll trio’s appetizer, and after they had rescued you, Gandalf offered that you travel with them.

At first there were objections to having a stranger join, but with you promising to prove your worth to Thorin they obliged. In all honesty you had no idea what to expect in a quest of Blue Mountain dwarves. But you had felt the times changing, work as a bounty hunter becoming more dangerous for a lone wolf. So, it made sense to travel with a group of warriors, peculiar though their quest may be.

Over time you had become accustomed to the Dwarven band, and they you. You liked sparring with Dwalin, listening to Bilbo’s packing tips, and even getting into trouble with Fili and Kili, but unconsciously you found yourself always looking out for Ori.

He reminded you of your younger siblings, and so you tried to make sure he was never left behind. Dori had also noticed your kindness, and had taken it upon himself to be your guide if ever you had questions about the trip, dwarves, and anything in between.

Sure Fili and Kili were friendly enough, but you could never be sure if their answers were serious or offered as a wick to a flame. Which wouldn’t help your case if they knew of your more romantic curiosities about a certain rugged dwarf.

As soon as camp was set up you dug into your bowl almost as heftily as Bombur did, your mighty excursions leaving your body depleted. Sighing as you patted your full belly, you enjoyed the warmth of the fire while propped up against a hefty log, one that Dwalin happened to be sitting on.

“Good to see you’ve revived lass.”

You tried not to let the blush creep into your cheeks as he spoke your nickname with such a warmth that pulled at your heart strings. “Good to see you’re still kicking too.” You shot back, Dwalin smirking at your response.

You remembered the first time you saw him burst out of the trees with a mighty roar. Even hanging upside down, you saw the sheer strength and courage he launched himself at a foe five times his size. Yet his gentleness surprised you as he cut you down and carried you in his arms like you weighed nothing.

I mean, how could you not fall for him?

As everyone cleared off their bowls for the night you tried to stretch your muscles as best you could. The strain on your shoulders was beginning to ache, however it was a familiar pain now, and one that you would try your best not to let show.

You rolled your pack out close to the face of the mountain, since once before Dwalin had to drag you back from almost toppling over the edge in your sleep.

“No more sleeping near the cliffsides you wriggly worm.” He had growled sternly, to which you could only nod, having woken up to being carried by your saviour once again wondering if it was another dream. You’d had to bury your cheeks under the blanket so he couldn’t see your satisfied smile.

“Glad to see you learned your lesson.” Dwalin teased as he watched you from the fire.

“Well I’m sure if I had gone over the edge you could’ve used your beard as rope.” You teased back.

Dwalin and the others roared around the fire, as he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“You tease this fine work of art missy, but from the looks of it your hair is gonna look worse than mine within a week.”

You brought your hand up to the back of your head and realised that it was, indeed, becoming a matted mess. You kept your thick hair in braids for the practicality, but on this journey you had not found the time to manage the upkeep. Which was important, as your curls answered to no one but a tooth comb and plenty of oil.

You huffed and started to unbind your hair, working your way behind before you felt yourself stuck. Seems one of your more intricate braids had become an intricate knot.

“You might as well just shave it off lassy, we can have matching hairstyles.” Dwalin roared with laughter. You tried your best to give him a grumpy look but you soon found yourself in fits of laughter too.

“You can help me braid my hair then you big ol’ grump.” You grinned, walking purposely around the fire and plonking yourself on the ground between his legs cross legged.

“How about that?” You puffed triumphantly.

But instead of more banter, you instantly you felt those around the fire freeze, Bofur dropping his spoon back into his bowl.

“You didn’t tell her?” Kili hissed at Dori.

“Well its not like I expected it to come up!” Dori argued defensively.

“Am I…. missing something?” You turned your head to look up at Dwalin wondering why he was silent too. However, you didn’t expect to find the most ferocious man you had ever met as red as a beet!

“Um,” Fili chuckled nervously. “Y/N, you-“

“Dwarves have very particular customs when it comes to our hair, or braiding other’s.” Thorin spoke decisively from his place as lookout, arms folded. “Customs that usually amount to offers of courtship.”

Your jaw dropped, realizing that you may or may not have in no small way proposed to Dwalin. “Oh.” You struggled to get words out. “Oh no, I didn’t know, I-I am sorry if I have caused offence!”

“It looks like you’ve caused a heart attack sweetie.” Bofur replied before being elbowed in the ribs by Kili.

You looked at everyone around the fire trying to look for some indication of how to proceed, finding that all of them were looking behind you. “Dwalin?”

“Its okay lass, you didn’t know.” Dwalin replied, the tepidness in his voice almost breaking you.

This really wasn’t how anything was supposed to go! Yes you liked Dwalin, you liked Dwalin a LOT. But you never thought the day would come when you would be ousted by your own foolish actions, and in front of half of your companions too.

“It was an honest mistake.” You heard Dwalin try to joke.

You scrunched the dirt underneath your hands into your fists. You were Y/N. You were bold. You were daring. And while your actions may have been a mistake your feelings certainly weren’t. Could you pretend it all away? Could you live with yourself now if you lied and hid your heart away? No. You had never run away from anything in your life. And you weren’t about to start now.

“If its all the same to you Dwalin, I still would like your help to braid my hair.”

You winced as you heard Ori gasp dramatically. When you peeked up you found Fili and Kili staring at you while simultaneously kicking each other, Bofur almost letting his bowl slip from his hands. Even Thorin raised his eyebrows at your boldness.

You felt the dwarf behind you exhale. “Are you sure lass?”

“Yes.” You tried not to twiddle your fingers, somehow transforming more and more into a shy milkmaid by the second. “Unless you would like me to ask someone else to braid it.” You insinuated daringly, even with fear he would say yes and offer your heart to someone else.

But no sooner were the words out of your mouth then you felt his hands brush against your back, taking the first of your plaits in his hands and unweaving it slowly.

“Well look at that I think its time for bed!” Bofur sprung up and yawned purposefully. At this the remaining troop instantly scattered, leaving you both alone with each other by the fire. Even Thorin had moved so that he was perched around the side of the mountain out of respect for his loyal warrior.

“I’m sorry if my hair is hard to handle.” You offered shyly. “It’s hard to do the plaits on my own.”

“No need for sorrys.” The rugged dwarf answered quietly, cursing his hands for not being nimble, or delicate. His hands were leathery, worn from his early years in the forges. But he had never thought his hands would be weaving in your hair as they did now. “Am I hurting ya?”

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed at his concern. “My mother would have me and my siblings crying after a braiding session when we were younger, this is….” You then paused. “This is much better.”

Dwalin’s own heart swelled at your contentment, fit to burst from his chest. Ever since the day he had cut you down and carried you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that you were the most beautiful cocoon he had ever seen.

He thought it was just the normal jitters when one saw a pretty face, but as you travelled as companions and then as friends, he fell in love with your character. The way you laughed, the way you fought, the way you would look out for Ori. You had proven your worth to the company as you had promised, but along the way you had won Dwalin’s heart.

Of course, he never thought in a thousand years though that a strong, strapping youngling would ever fall for him. You were human, and he considered the fact that maybe you wouldn’t feel attachment like dwarves did. He had thought for sure you would have become interested in one of the princes, anyone younger than himself.

Obviously, Dwalin was wrong.

The fierce warrior reluctantly finished the last plait, the process of taming your hair long but pleasant, as both of you swapped small stories of memories and times long past, even content to sit in silence.

You stretched and then turned to sit facing him. “Thank you.” The warmth in your smile more than Dwalin could take.

Before he could even think the dwarf had taken both of your hands in his, letting his thumbs slide gingerly across your small hands.

“Yes Dwalin?” You looked up at him with pools of dark hazel that glinted in the firelight, taking his breath away with the way you looked at him so keenly. He had never seen you like this before. Then again he mused, you had probably never seen him look like such a blushing fool before either.

“I’ll help you with your hair whenever you need Y/N, if that’s okay with you.”

You smiled at took the chance to hold his face in your hands, planting a small kiss on his forehead. “Its more than okay with me.”

Your own Dwarven Hero.

————————————————————————————————–

“Told you she’d be the one to do it.” Fili chuckled, kicking the bundle next to him that was his brother, gaining him a grunt. “You owe me a pint.”

#dwalin fluff #the hobbit fluff #the hobbit fanfiction #dwalin x reader #lotr fanfiction #lotr fanfic #greennightspider #the hobbit fanfic #dwalin #dwalin hobbit #i have no idea what to tag this #dwalin x woc #the hobbit woc fanfiction #dwalin oneshot #the hobbit oneshot #Please let me into this fandom pocket i promise ill be good

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currywaifu · 5 years ago

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𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: summer date 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: sumeragi tenma/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 1.9k words

𝐚𝐧: I debated what kind of “summer date” to do, until I remembered something I was supposed to do with some friends + one of Tenma’s lines about being tired. I hope this turned out decent!

“Are you sure it’s okay with your parents if I come over tonight?” Tenma asked, and as much as he tried to mask it you knew he still had his worries.

“Pfft, at this point I think my mom likes you more than she likes me,” you joked, “besides, it’s not like we’re gonna do anything.”

You laughed as Tenma sputtered; even though you were talking through the phone you could envision the traitorous rose flush blooming on his cheeks, his face turned away in a vain attempt to avoid your gaze.

“Hah? What are you even saying? You’re the one who's being weird!”

“Didn’t even say you were being weird in the first place, but go off I guess.” Other than an exasperated sigh, there was a momentary silence in the call.

“You sure you’ll be able to make it? If filming ends late we can always resched-“

“No need. I promised I could make it, right?” He interrupted with a huff, his tone eventually transitioning to something a little softer but still sure of himself. “I already cancelled our date last time. I’m not doing that to you again.”

You were unable to hold back the giggle bubbling up within you, being pushed outwards by the slight jump your heart did. For all of his oddly cute quirks, you sometimes forgot how cool Tenma could be.

“Tenma… my heart totally skipped a beat just now,” you teased, knowing fairly well he’d either tell you off or pretend to be nonchalant to hide his embarrassment.

“Of-of course it did! Are you only realising my charm now?”

You continued to talk a little longer, half indulging him and half teasing him. He would have to leave the call soon at the signal of his manager, so who could blame you for relishing even the shortest of moments together?

You knew beforehand that getting into a relationship with Sumeragi Tenma wouldn’t be the easiest thing. His celebrity status meant having to hide your relationship and a lack of time spent together.

The former wasn’t that hard to deal with.

Spending time with Tenma probably allowed you to pick up some of his acting skills, as it became easier and easier to dodge inquiries from your friends and his fans about your close relationship; it also helped that Juza and Taichi were often there to cover up for the two of you, both of them sworn to secrecy.

You knew the importance of Tenma’s image, so if he was with other celebrities in dramas or had to hide his face when he was with you, you understood that he was only looking out for the two of you and the peacefulness of your relationship.

Even so, it was hard not to get lonely sometimes.

Juggling being a popular actor and being a high-school student barely gave him any free time, and by extension, time to go on dates with you. Recently, with his practices and filming ending late in the day, the two of you only had the few hours of the evening to spend time together until one of you eventually had to retire in exhaustion.

Still, as nice as the songs sung together were during karaoke night and the dinners together in and out of his dorm, you wished you could take the time to have both of you relax, the summer breeze caressing your skin as you both relaxed and the week’s stresses flew away with the wind.

“I’m here at the shoot location. I have to go now,” Tenma said, “you don’t need me to bring anything later? I can ask someone to buy stuff.”

“I’ve got this, don’t worry. Do your best today!”

As soon as the line went dead, you sprung into action. Operation: Relaxing Summer Date Night with Tenma was a go!

“Maybe I should check the set-up again and see if I missed anything,” you muttered, glancing at the glass sliding door where you could see your backyard outside.

When your doorbell rang, you knew it was already too late for that.

“It looks great, kid. This Sumeragi boy is lucky you’re putting that much effort for him,” your dad said, ruffling the hair you already tried to make presentable an hour ago. “I didn’t get to meet him last time he was here. Should I pretend to be a strict and serious dad?”

“Dad, don’t scare him!” you exclaimed. Tenma was a talented actor, but very gullible. If your father didn’t admit he was joking right away, who knew how long Tenma would go along with his act?

“I’m joking~ I’ll greet him normally, just watch.”

You watched your boyfriend greet your parents respectfully at the doorway, his face shifting from slightly nervous to a more relaxed one as your father said something to him that you couldn’t hear.

When he finally enters the house you lock eyes with him, resisting the urge to hug him with others’ eyes on the two of you. You didn’t want Tenma to combust so quickly into the night.

“Alright, just call us if you need anything. Have fun, don’t stay up too late!” at the cue, you asked Tenma to follow you outside.

Tonight wasn’t the first time Tenma’s been to your house. Still, even with your dad telling him you worked hard on making tonight go perfectly, he hadn’t expected this.

Fairy lights hung from the tree branches, helping the stars of the night sky illuminate your backyard. A white drop cloth was hung and clipped on a string rope in between two trees, some rocks weighing it down in case of a heavy breeze.

A few decorative rugs, throw pillows, and blankets were placed purposefully on the grass— the combination tasteful but cozy. On the small side table, several food and drinks were stacked for the two of you, from a box of pizza to popcorn and candy to soda.

Tenma was glad for the minimal lighting, it was making it much easier for him to hide his flushed face and give him time to still his beating heart.

“This is…” he trailed off, unable to find any semblance of coherence in his thoughts.

“An outdoor movie theatre,” you supplied helpfully. “It was a bit last minute so the projector and sound system might not be the most high-qual, but I think I did well for a DIY!”

Well? Just well? Seriously, to think you’d even put in the effort to do all this for him, even though he was the reason the two of you barely went on normal dates.

Since the start of your relationship, he’d done his best to pace himself with you, to be the one to make the big surprises and heartwarming gestures, but somehow you were always one step ahead that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Realising you were waiting for a response, he let out a small cough, forcing out a line that was so much easier to say in a drama. “Don’t sell yourself short, it looks really nice.”

As you beamed at him, Tenma resisted the urge to crumble into dust and settle onto the ground beneath him. Shouldn’t he be used to the sight of that by now? Does he need to practice looking at a picture of you smiling or something?

“Ahh, that’s good. I was worried it’d look too messy,” you said, him following suit as you plopped yourself atop a pillow. “Are you up for Aladdin first? It reminded me of you.”

“Because of Water Me?” Tenma asked, grabbing the soda bottle that you offered him. You hummed thoughtfully as he twisted the cap open, before finally replying.

“Because the camels there looked like you— Tenma don’t drop the drink! I’m joking!” you said, nearly shouting as his grip loosened. “Obviously because of the play.”

“You should really leave the comedy to me,” he turned away from you, hiding a small pout. “Seriously, why a camel?”

His body stiffened as you inched closer to him, hugging his arm loosely and trying to make eye contact with him. He wasn’t gonna look at you, no, no—

“Tenma,” you said in a sing-song voice, a syrupy sweet tone making its way to his ears.

He looked, and he immediately regretted it because he was, once again, spiralling down. Don’t think about how beautiful you are, the two of you haven’t even watched a single movie yet.

“Should… shouldn’t you turn the movie on now?” he said, barely giving him the time to miss your warmth as you were back beside him in minutes.

The movie was great, really. He enjoyed the songs, and he managed to tolerate the brief look you gave him whenever a camel was up on screen. Tonight, however, was one of those few moments where he could be honest— at least to himself— that you were a lot more interesting to watch.

It’s not just because he hasn’t seen you in a while, although that definitely contributed, it’s just that your reactions were so… endearing? Heart-clutch worthy?

“Did you see that? That was so, ahhhh, right?” you asked him, pointing at the screen.

“Mhm,” Tenma replied, unsure if you were referring to the magic carpet or the song or what. Even with his short response, you rewarded him with a small grin before dragging your eyes back to the scene in front of you.

You were adorable whenever you acted like this, you and your honest and unabashed enthusiasm. It was something he still struggled with every so often, so watching the way your eyes lit up always lit a fire in him as well.

As the next movie played, the more used he got to your proximity. Sometime in between the opening credits of Sleeping Beauty, the two of you had gone from sitting to lying on the bundles of cloth beneath you, a position much more comfortable and close.

At this point he’s barely paying attention, a little lost in his thoughts about tonight.

“Why did you decide on a movie night?” he asked, absentmindedly watching the main character dance with the prince.

“I figured you’d be tired from your busy schedule,” you paused to yawn, “plus, I thought it’d be nice to just… relax, you know?”

When you stared at him, he tried to give himself the courage to stare back instead of looking away immediately.

“You’re the one who sounds sleepy,” Tenma said, but not denying that he was tired. That this really helped him, your presence, and the plan you had for your date ultimately relaxing him.

“Did I do okay, though?”

He almost scoffed, only softening up as soon as he noticed it was a serious question. “You did great, thank you for doing this,” he murmured. That simple admission was enough for you, you returning to the movie and him wondering if you could feel his eyes on you instead.

It turned out the name of the movie was rather telling.

It was around two-thirds through the movie when you just fell asleep, then the cuddling started. He doesn’t even dare move at all. There’s nothing he can really do at this point, not that he minds your weight on his, even if his arm is a little dead.

The credits roll and you’re still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake you, he carefully moved to lay a blanket on top of the both of you. This might not be the most optimal way to sleep, his back might hurt tomorrow and he was still in his jeans, but as he watched you slumber he figured it was worth it.

“Good night,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head, his only audience the trees you two were nestled under and the night sky.

want to order again?

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! tenma #a3! x reader #sumeragi tenma #tenma sumeragi #cafe: dessert menu #a3! game #a3! actor training game

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foxtophat · 4 years ago

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MERRY CHRISTMAS IN JANUARY EVERYONE yeah i know ~nothing is fixed~ but whatever, fuck you, have some fanfic

so anyway i’ve been planning this for a while, i’m kinda shocked tho b/c i finished writing it in like less than 3 days??? (aside from editing) usually it takes me longer to at least figure out how to wrap things up, but at least this one was easy money. i’m sure none of the other ones will be so kind to me

this one takes place a month or so after the last one; it’s set in spring 2028 (omfg finally on a new year!!!!) and it has a little something to do with carmina finally getting some chickens!!!! one thing about new dawn that i think was really lacking is the explanation of how life... restarted before the highwaymen. i definitely remember a few houses having chicken coops, too, so i know i’m not crazy putting these feathered friends in. to me, chickens are the most sensible post-apocalyptic pet outside of a dog; easy to care for, provide food while alive AND after death, and they can reproduce easily enough if you’ve got a rooster on hand. i can imagine a family making quite a life for themselves as a poultry farm in the apocalypse!

ugh idk what else to say so i’ll just say it: thank you so much for all of your comments and kudos on this series. i am so stoked to know that my self-indulgent trash is delicious to more than just my possum ass! i’ve had a lot of fun worldbuilding in ubisoft’s playground, and i hope to continue doing more fun stuff that other people will enjoy too!!!

with all that said, i hope you enjoy the fic :) i’ll put it below the cut for you if you don’t wanna leave tumblr, but ao3 looks so much better. anyway, thank you and have a great jan 20th!!!!

Winter melts away the same way it does every year, leaving in its path wet dirt and green buds of spring growth. John, nursing what's likely the last cup of coffee they can wring from this batch of grounds, stares out over the back yard and idly marvels at how quickly the snow had disappeared. Montana had been his first experience with white winters; even though he's gotten used to the changing seasons in theory, though, he can't help but be distracted by it year after year.

Across the yard, situated just in sight by the hangar, John can plainly see Carmina's new chickens looking for breakfast. They're the newest addition to the homestead, but so far John has only had to watch from afar as the Ryes worked to adjust them to their new home. He's not sure who's raising chickens out here, but at least they were willing to barter. Fresh eggs are going to mean a lot more than the dwindling supplies out of Jacob's cache.

The misty-gray of early morning has almost evaporated in the rising sunlight, and still the chickens haven't been fed. John watches them from where he stands, their frustration leading to subdued crows as they scratch at the dirt. He doesn't know who's noisier — them, or Nick and Kim arguing at the table behind him. Thank Christ the wet end of winter is over; John doesn't think he can tolerate much more of their married nagging. On some level, he's glad they don't make a habit of yelling at him instead of each other, but Jesus, he can't wait for them to both get some space from one another.

"This is why we said we weren't gonna do pets, remember?" Nick says. "Because if she got a pet, we would end up taking care of it. Remember?"

"Yes, Nick, I remember."

"Yeah, and here we are!"

Kim sighs. John doesn't have to look to see the exasperated eye-roll that comes with it. "It wasn't me who kept her up late last night! Which one of us was egging her on when she should have been asleep?"

This is exactly why John has never owned a pet. They're more trouble than they're worth, and the only thing they seem to be good for is teaching shitty life lessons to kids who don't care enough to learn. The only good thing about the chickens is that they provide something in return other than obnoxious crowing.

Carmina thumps around upstairs. John isn't looking forward to having to listen to Kim lecture her on responsibility, but he's not thrilled to listen to much more of this bickering, either. If his choices are to stay inside and fester or go out into the first nice day of the year — well, that's not much of a choice, is it?

"Fine," John sighs before either of the Ryes can set their sights on him, "I'll do it."

"Nobody's asking you to do it," Kim replies. "It's Carmina's responsibility."

John shakes his head. "Of course it is. Where's the feed?"

Nick points out a white plastic container sitting on the pass-through to the kitchen. "Not gonna wait for us to boss you around?" he asks.

John picks up the container and rattles it to make sure it's full. "I'm streamlining the process," he replies. "Unless you enjoy giving me orders."

Sure enough, implying Nick might like being a bossy piece of shit is enough to get him to shut up. He sighs with a deep frown at John, who ignores him as he heads out to the coop. It's a petty satisfaction to take the rug out from under Nick's feet, but John's not above it. Not by a long shot.

Some of it might be compensating for the disintegrating peace that had come with winter. Before the blizzard set in, they'd had enough on their collective plates as they prepared for the worst of the season. Afterward, the snow had prevented them from doing much more than what was necessary to survive, and the resulting downtime had settled like a comfortable blanket. Even now, with a few weeks of grating interpersonal interactions, John feels more focused, more rested than he can ever remember feeling. Living underground for eight years, he'd naively thought that he'd gotten enough rest to last him a lifetime — but he'd been strung out on Bliss and trying not to suffocate, and he hadn't known what he was doing. He's starting to suspect that the Bliss might've had a worse effect on him than the myriad other drugs he'd ingested. Hell, he's not sure he's clean even now — but he's managing, and that's what matters.

It's only once he's halfway across the yard that John realizes Kim forgot to argue about him going off on his own. Sure, he's only going as far as the hangar, but it's become something of a pleasantry she uses whenever John pretends to have the freedom to go where he pleases. Her irritation at Carmina and Nick probably made her forget. She's gotten so used to trusting John that she's finally found other things to take up her attention.

Weirdly enough, the casual disregard for his potential backslide irritates him. It really shouldn't. He should be thrilled that he can finally disappear from view for an hour without somebody calling out a search party. He's more than earned it, he thinks, but their trust highlights their naivety. Luckily for them, John means it when he says he's changed — but it's a line they're going to hear time and again from people far less genuine than he's been. They're so willing to help everyone and anyone that they don't even realize how much of a target they're making themselves. John's had to hold his tongue whenever Nick gives free supplies to shifty-eyed tweakers who are "just passing through," and while he trusts Kim not to let anyone obviously suspicious into the house, he doesn't trust her to recognize a cunning liar.

The last thing John needs is for the Ryes to put their trust in the wrong reformed psychopath. At least he's capable of picking up their slack. After all, John has his time at law school and years of psychological abuse under his belt — plenty of real-world experience dealing with unrepentant garbage. He'll notice it when somebody cases the hangar or acts too erratically, and hopefully the Ryes will listen to him if he gets the nerve to voice his concerns.

Not for the first time since summer, John is struck with a newfound respect for Jacob and the role he'd inhabited in the Project. It used to be his job to look out for insurrectionists, and he'd taken on that burden even when John and Joseph would openly dismiss his concerns. John can't imagine how many fires Jacob must've put out while the rest of the family was distracted by the Bliss. Looking back on it now, it's honestly a surprise they maintained their operation as long as they did, considering only one of the four of them was ever sober.

The chickens are hopping at his arrival, scuttling around the dirt and crowing as John reaches the pen. They don't notice him so much as the bin he rattles on approach, full of vegetable cuttings and strange white worms that come out whenever it rains. John doesn't mind one lick — he's never been much of an animal person, and he certainly doesn't care if Carmina's so-called pets notice his existence. Of course, knowing Carmina, she's going to use this as an excuse to shift breakfast duty to John full-time, and John won't have much of a say in the matter.

Well, that's not strictly true, but if Carmina asked, he knows he would do it, if only to give his day more structure. Truthfully, he's grown to depend on routine, when before it was impossible to keep to a schedule that didn't involve other people's expectations of him. There's probably a metaphor to be made about trains on and off the tracks, but John has never been particularly interested in locomotives.

John shakes the dead bugs and scraps out into the pen, watching the hens as they race to be the first to eat. They're perfectly happy now that they've been fed, cooing and clucking as they peck the dirt. They certainly seem content with safety and food — not entirely unlike the survivors living day-to-day in the town and beyond. Sure, John might not always be satisfied by bare sustenance, and one day he'll chafe under the grind of surviving week to week, but for now, he might as well be a dumb chicken crowing in the morning sun.

He throws some more feed into the pen, watching the three hens waddle after their meal. One of them lingers by the fence, freezing for a moment as her head swivels back and forth. She pecks at the dirt away from the feed before hustling after her two companions. John watches as she stops again; when he tosses a few worms in her direction, she pecks briefly at them before lifting her head to survey her surroundings.

The primal sensation of something being wrong nearly overtakes John's reasoning, before he manages to remind himself that a chicken's predators aren't exactly his to worry about. Still, he rattles the container to bring the hens scuttling towards him; all three are easily distracted by food now, but John can't shake the feeling that he'd missed something they hadn't. A fox, maybe? A snake? Anything could be lurking in the woods on the other side of the wash. Not a whole lot that could hurt him , of course, but he's not about to be blamed for Carmina's chickens being eaten by a wild dog.

The fence-line is... nebulous past the hangar, sure, but John's positive Kim doesn't consider the rest of the old airport off-limits. Then again, she might be in the mood to lecture him once she gets through with Carmina. It's a risk he's not sure he's willing to take.

Two chickens continue to eat as one keeps watch, their heads bobbing up and down as they switch off. Their unease mirrors his own, and John can imagine Faith giggling at him for being swayed by some dumb birds.

"Very well, ladies," he sighs, shaking the remainder of their breakfast onto the ground. "Don't let them say I don't care."

The chickens don't give three shits about John's motivations, of course; they watch him go, pecking at the food with increasing carelessness as the distance grows. John rolls his eyes at their sudden fearlessness, half-convinced to let whatever animal is lurking eat them out of spite.

There's a wide swath of dirt behind the hangar, separating it from the mostly-overgrown remnants of Rye Aviation that couldn't be saved. John can see the edge of the chicken pen from here, but the hangar is blocking him from the house. Even though he knows the Ryes trust him not to run off, he still feels distinctly uneasy going somewhere where they can't see him. At this point, Nick would probably only tease him for it, but John's not about to linger out here and risk turning Kim's irritation on himself.

To the right of the derelict hangars is a sparse wedge of trees that have grown in uninterrupted. John knows there's a path cut between the trunks, one he'd made himself while hauling the tire-planters for Kim last year, and there's a long stretch of unused runway beyond it. It isn't a great place for anything bigger than a fox to lurk in. That doesn't explain the feeling of being watched that comes over him as he stops halfway across the empty dirt lot; he looks around, but there's no place for anything to hide out here. The overgrowth on the old hangars can't be more than two feet high, and the bushes in the copse are brambly and sparse. The only place anything could hide would be in the trees, which is why John approaches them with more caution than they're worth.

The thinned underbrush is easy to explore, but John goes carefully as he picks through the trees and bushes. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking for — some sign of predators, whatever those might be — but he doesn't find much. There are some hoof-prints clear in the dirt, curving sharply away from the Rye homestead and back out to the airstrip, which tells John that the goddamn deer are back, probably looking to eat their hard-grown crops. Other than that, there's no sign of anything that might be stalking the hen-house. The ground is still somewhat soft from the rain a few nights ago, but it barely takes the imprint of John's boots as he explores the small grove.

That's why it's such a shock to see the tread of a narrow boot in the dirt by the trunk of one of the trees, well off the beaten path. It's an old print, he thinks — but he doesn't remember the last time any one of them had been out this way. Certainly not since the last time it rained.

An electric shock conducts itself down his spine. Somebody had been out here, hiding here in the trees, and it's only been two, three days since the last rain. John turns, and from his vantage point, he can clearly see the coop and the back of the hangar, but not the house. For that, he'd have to move out of the trees, into direct view of the porch.

It has to be Grace's boot. She's the only one he could imagine creeping around the property with good intentions. But even that explanation doesn't settle the anxious flip of his stomach; he tries not to let it show as he marches from the trees, intent on dragging Nick over and proving to him once and for all that they need to be more goddamn careful about who they let around the property. Somebody is going to want the copper fixtures they've salvaged, even if there's nobody to sell the metal to these days.

John gets halfway back to the coop when he catches something in his peripheral vision. Terrible, primal terror grips him as he fixes his gaze on the trick of the light that had scared him, ready to catch Grace peering at him over the abandoned hangars, or maybe a pack of wild dogs. What he sees instead turns his blood to ice, caught like a deer in headlights as the low-hanging shrubbery and thick vines shift and part for a rising mass of dark brown fur. The shape that rises from the underbrush is a tall, dark smudge against the blue sky, and John nearly swallows his tongue when he sees its face — or the horrifying absence of one, replaced with white, flaking skin and two huge, empty eye-sockets that are fixed on John's position.

It doesn't move. Neither does John, frozen to the spot as the chickens begin to crow and fuss. He can't fathom what he's looking at — a bear, a person, a fucking mutant? — but whatever it is, he suspects it's infected with Bliss. Who knows how many angels ended up underground after the Collapse? What might've happened to them in the years since? All John knows about them is that they're dangerous to everybody but Faith, and Faith died a decade ago. If this is an angel — God, there'll be no stopping it. And if it isn't — then what the hell is it ?

There's no way for John to get from here to the house without the thing chasing him. The hangar is blocking his brutal oncoming murder from the two people who might actually be able to do something about it. He doesn't have to look to know the distance from here to the house is insurmountable.

The creature lifts its arm, and the situation that couldn't get any worse takes an even more horrifying turn as it reveals its weapon of choice: a crudely fashioned bow, the same kind of handmade weaponry that Joseph's followers have been seen with.

All at once, Nick's voice is ringing in John's ears, warning him of what's going to happen if this gargoyle takes him away. The things John hadn't considered before — the Ryes' reputation, Carmina's safety, the hard-won trust John's gained from the survivors — it's all in jeopardy. The situation barrels into him all at once — the realization that whatever Joseph did to create this thing , he won't hesitate to turn on John.

He tries to shout a warning, but his breath is caught in his throat. Faith's voice, faint on the breeze, laughs and whispers sing-song into his ear:

They've found you!

The monster barrels down the slope of the hill as if prodded into action by a hot poker. Its gait is wide, bringing it towards John at speeds impossible to outrun. This time, John's shout comes out clear as a bell, panic screaming through him as he turns and bolts for the house. He nearly clips himself on the pen as he hangs a sharp right turn, the porch coming into full sight —

Something snags the back of John's shirt, and his momentum briefly chokes him. A thick arm bears down across his neck before he can rip free, the creature grunting in exertion as it yanks him backward. John feels his boots scrape on the dirt as he's dragged towards the trees, away from the safety that's plain in sight.

Animal instinct kicks in. John gnashes his teeth but there's nothing to bite, so he kicks out his feet instead, first in front of him and then harshly backward until he can hook his shin behind his assailant's and trip them both to the ground. The creature goes down with a surprised grunt; John does his best to roll away, only to be yanked back by his hair. He's distantly aware that he's spitting like a cat in a sack, clawing and biting, the two of them rolling in the dirt as John screams profanities and heresy at the monster trying to pin him down, anything to convince the universe to take mercy on him for once in his fucking life!

The creature manages to grab him by the shoulder, throwing him into the dirt before backhanding him violently across the face. It's enough to daze him; for one horrible second, he's unable to do anything as the monster begins to drag him across the dirt by the legs.

There's a commotion coming from the house. For a split second, the creature looks up, and John realizes his opening at the same time the monster realizes its mistake. It looks down just in time for John to kick it square in its barky, hollow-eyed face, sending a split down the wooden facade.

" John !"

The monster reels backward as if burned, grabbing at the mask as it falls away. John catches sight of a single dark, wild eye behind the broken wood before he kicks out again, sending both boots into his assailant's chest. As soon as the creature staggers back, John bolts, scrambling towards Kim as she races toward him with the rifle drawn. Nick is hot behind her; he grabs John's shoulder and drags him partway back to the house. John doesn't need the escort, and so Nick quickly leaves him to scramble up the porch as he goes after his wife.

John gets all the way to the stairs inside before he realizes there's no safe place to hide. He'd found out this winter just how flimsy the prisoner story had been; if somebody wants to take him, all they have to do is climb onto the roof and jimmy the lock on the nearest window. Whether it's through the broken window in his room or a gap in the roof leading to the attic, the Project will find him. He can't possibly outrun them forever. He'd be stupid to even try. God, he'd been a fool for thinking Joseph wouldn't send someone looking for him, that he wouldn't want to snatch John back from the clutches of apostasy. There's no way Joseph will leave a loose end like him untied.

John sinks to the bottom steps in his mounting despair, only to realize for a second time that he's being watched. The realization is less of a shock as Carmina peers at him around the kitchen archway; she jumps at the distant rapport of gunfire, staring owl-eyed at John as though she expects him to do something.

"Stay down," John hisses, setting an example as he keeps low on his way into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Carmina asks, frantic, "Is mom gonna be okay?"

"Yes," John replies, although he can't possibly know that for sure. He waits a beat, listening for more gunshots, then carefully lifts his head to check out the window when none come. He lets out the breath he'd been holding when he sees Nick standing with his hands on his hips, staring at Kim further down the yard. Whatever the danger had been, it's not pressing enough to warrant immediate action.

"Seriously," Carmina whines, as if that could hide her fear. "What was it? Was it a bear? Grace says there are bears in the woods but I've never seen —"

John sinks to the ground, his mind reeling even as the panic passes, leaving him numb. "It wasn't a bear."

Carmina chews on her lower lip, looking up towards the window as though she might try looking for herself. "Are the chickens okay?" she asks.

"They're fine," he sighs. He pushes his hair from his face, only to realize that his hands have started to tremble with run-off adrenaline.

"Are... you okay?" she asks, frowning as though she can't decide whether or not his wellbeing is her problem to deal with.

Goodwill must be genetic, John laments. "I'm fine," he tells her. She gives his shaking hands a hard look; he sighs and reiterates, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"I'm not," Carmina huffs. Apparently, Nick's attempts to teach Carmina how to bluff haven't worked out.

John is saved from needing to reassure her as Nick abruptly appears in the kitchen arch, out of breath and red-faced. His shock gives way to relief at the sight of the two of them huddled by the counter. He's out of breath and visibly bewildered.

"Shit, John, you okay?"

"I'm fine," he says, although he doubts Nick will believe it any more than Carmina had. His foot jogs uselessly against the floor. "Kim — did she...?"

Nick shakes his head. "She tried," he says, "But it was too fast. What the fuck was it ?"

"Somebody from the Project."

"No shit. But — look, it wasn't an angel , was it?"

John shakes his head. "I don't know."

Kim storms into view, making her way to the pass-through from the living room side. She sets the rifle down on the counter, catching John's eye with a glare. John hurries to explain himself, as if he could possibly apologize for bringing the cult back to her doorstep.

"I was checking for foxes," he tells her, "I didn't think it — if I'd known what it was, I wouldn't have gone on my own."

Despite the fury in her eyes and the hard edge to her voice, Kim seems to mean it when she replies, "As long as nobody's hurt."

But the damage is done, and John can't help but babble on uselessly. "I wasn't looking in the right place. But I shouted as soon as I saw it. I just — couldn't outrun it. I wasn't fast enough. And I wasn't — it was stronger than I expected, stronger than..." Even he can hear the panic edging into his voice, cutting himself off with one last worried question. "Do you think it's gone?"

"It better be, if it knows what's good for it," Kim replies. "Are you sure you're okay?"

At any other time, John would be irritated to have to reassure every single Rye individually that he isn't in the throes of a panic attack. Right now, he's only grateful to realize that Kim doesn't blame him for the thing's appearance.

"I am," he says. "Thank you."

Nick groans, covering his eyes with one hand as he leans against the counter. "So much for it being safe to go out alone. Damn it, we got too comfortable."

" I got too comfortable," John says. "It wouldn't have cared about either of you."

"What about the chickens?" Carmina asks, "Are they safe there?"

Kim crosses her arms. "What I want to know is what the hell the Project is doing out here."

Her question is the only one John has any insight into, although he doesn't know how realistic his theory is. "They might be hunting deer," he says. "The only thing I saw, other than — than that , were deer tracks."

"All the way out here?" Kim asks skeptically.

"The hunting can't be any good in that swamp they're hiding in," Nick points out, frowning as he considers the idea. "And there are more survivors around the river these days. I'd bet that'd make for slim pickings."

"I doubt we'd even know they come out this far if I hadn't been the one out there. At least we've confirmed they're actively searching for resources beyond their compound — and they're relying on traditional methods to do so. Most likely because the armory was destroyed."

"Thank God for the Deputy," Nick sighs. "Okay. We're just gonna have to... I dunno, be willing to shoot, I guess." He doesn't sound so sure about it, and he quickly softens the intention. "At least a couple more warning shots. Once they remember guns outstrip arrows every way but sustainability, they'll probably keep back."

"We can push the fence-line out, too," Kim says. "It won't necessarily stop them, but at least it'll give them a line to cross. They're not cavemen — they remember property laws and how those get enforced around here."

"We'll have to start checking the traps more often. They might be living like bloodthirsty Mennonites right now, but that doesn't mean they aren't willing to steal to survive."

"They'll justify it one way or another," John sighs.

"So I guess we don't have to move the chickens after all," Nick says, "So long as we establish a perimeter. Sound good, Carmina?"

Carmina must have slipped out at some point during the conversation because she's nowhere to be found in the kitchen. Nick glances over John's head and out the window, swearing loudly.

"What the hell is she doing out there?"

John gets to his feet as Nick and Kim take off. He watches them through the window as they chase after Carmina, who's stopped to look around partway towards the coop. Either she's dumber than she seems, or she's inherited both of her parents' reckless streaks. Either way, she's going to leave herself open the same way John had. She's too confident that nobody wants to hurt her. The only way John knows how to teach that lesson, though, is not one that Kim or Nick would approve of — and so he sidelines his worries in favor of sticking with whoever is more armed than he is.

By the time John comes outside, Kim is knee-deep in the middle of a heated lecture about safety and responsibility. Carmina scowls at her feet, her face turning red as she's scolded. John ignores them, passing them by in favor of catching up with Nick, who's come to a stop a few yards past the coop. He's staring out into the unoccupied land — land that used to be his property, once. Now Nick is as much a stranger here as John is.

"Check it out," Nick says, holding out a thin, white-barked piece of wood. John takes it and recognizes it immediately as part of the mask he'd broken in two. The hole for the eye is a roughly cut gouge in the soft wood, and the bark flakes as he wipes his thumb across it.

"I hadn't even considered a mask," John admits. "I thought it was a monster."

"You and me both," Nick replies. He heaves a sigh. "Still waiting for the mutants to crawl out of the sewers, I guess. But I think we can handle a couple of jackasses with arrows."

John squints across the clearing, as if maybe his assailant has hung around waiting for them to reappear. "Next time, it might be Joseph," he points out grimly. "That hunter recognized me immediately. They'll tell him I'm here, and he'll want to find me."

"Come on. Like Joseph's gonna risk crossing enemy territory on foot. I'd be more worried about those goddamn hunting parties you used to send out."

John unconsciously reaches up to rub his throat. "Yeah," he says. "You're right. One of them clearly wasn't enough, but if Joseph decides I'm worthwhile, they'll come as a pack. If he's still manufacturing Bliss somehow, it would be easy to subdue me. And then..."

He's surprised out of his would-be reverie as Nick slaps his shoulder with a heavy hand. "We're not gonna let that happen," he says. "As long as you put up the same fight you did today, Kim and I are gonna come running."

Despite the reality of hidden archers and surprise ambushes, John allows himself to be reassured by the sentiment. At the very least, he pretends for Nick's sake. "I suppose you two were quick to the rescue," he drawls. "But if they get me to the tree-line, I'd rather you just put me down before I get dragged all the way back to the compound."

Nick chuckles. "We'll try to avoid that for now."

Looking over his shoulder, John catches Kim crouched down in front of Carmina, hands on her shoulders. Whatever she's saying, it's too quiet for John to hear, but Carmina's sniffles are a loud precursor to a lot of tears.

"I guess she believed you when you said the Project wouldn't care about us," Nick sighs. "At this rate, we're gonna have to put a bell on her."

"I could tell her about the child soldiers from the summer camp, if that would prove the gravity of the situation."

Just the mention of it makes Nick look a little queasy, and John immediately regrets bringing it up. "I don't want to scare her that badly," Nick says. "She's a good kid, she means well. She just needs to stop going off half-cocked, is all." He rubs his hand across his forehead and complains, "I thought we taught her to be smarter than this."

"She's still your kid," John says. Nick gives him a sour look, but it's the truth no matter how bitter Nick might feel about it. "You can't expect her to be utterly obedient, given her genetics."

"I guess ." He sighs, shaking his head. "At any rate, it's time we stop sugar-coating the cult for her benefit. She's obviously not taking it seriously."

John looks again and sees Kim embracing Carmina tightly. He can't help but worry about what might happen if the hunters come back. When he'd been with the Project, he'd understood Joseph's motivations — at least superficially — but now he's completely in the dark. They used to fill their ranks with abducted children and their desperate parents. He has no idea if Joseph is in a position to expand his flock, but if he is... John does not doubt that they'll start with the young and impressionable. Carmina, being young but not as impressionable as they'd like, probably wouldn't make it back to the compound before she got herself killed. He can't imagine anyone having enough patience to break her.

"You... uh, think we should be worried?" Nick asks after a brief stretch of silence.

"Not yet," John replies grimly. After all, the Ryes have a bargaining chip like no other, in case their daughter is ever taken. John can see to it that she's left alone, but it will only work once — and after that, who knows which brother will be sending hunters after her.

"Good thing we got ourselves a couple of extra guns," Nick says. "You and her are gonna have to start carrying pretty much everywhere."

"I'm sure people will love that."

"Fuck people, man, did you see the size of that fucking guy?"

John can't help a wry smile. "They weren't so big. If I were a couple of years younger, I would have taken them."

"Yeah, sure. "

The lecture must be over with for now, as Carmina's attention has turned back to her chickens. Kim watches her from a distance; John can't read her expression from here, but her posture is tense and defensive. John can't blame her — he doesn't have a parental bone in his body, but the stress of raising a child in these conditions isn't lost on him. Trying to instill a sense of fear into somebody who lived their formative years without a threat in sight can't be easy. Doubly so, considering Carmina can no doubt outgun the rudimentary weaponry the Project is utilizing. Hell, maybe they really are only a threat to him. Maybe it doesn't matter if Carmina sneaks out of the house.

"She won't leave unnoticed again," John decides, because it's the only promise he can genuinely keep.

"Oh yeah? You're gonna eat those words when she's a teenager."

"I'd hope she would be smart enough to bring back up by then."

"Me too." Nick exhales loudly enough to get Kim's attention, stretching one arm over his chest, then the other. "Well, I guess we better get started if we want to have anything to show for it by nightfall."

Even so, it takes Nick another moment before he brings himself to move. John lingers behind, unable to help himself as he eyes the trees distrustfully. There's nothing saying that hunter isn't still out there, watching them from a safe distance. If Jacob had a hand in training them, it's unlikely that John will ever see them coming again. He's likely lost the one chance at a level playing field, and he hadn't even realized it was something he could lose.

Fuck it. It doesn't matter. John has adapted time and again to every disaster in his life, and there's something to be said for the person who he's become. If this is the next catastrophe that he'll have to weather, then so be it. If he isn't capable of dealing with Joseph by now, then it's likely he never will be — and if that turns out to be the case, he can only hope that Kim is as quick on the trigger as she seemed to be today.

#far cry new dawn #fcnd #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #carmina rye #far cry fanfic #my fic #ugh tagging sucks on this site #mercyverse

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