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orchidsangel · 11 months ago

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MY BABY, MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY, SAY IT TO ME. (JT)

notes/cw ~ fluff, minor(ish) angst, fem!reader, talks of having a baby, idk i just had really bad dad!jason brain rot and i felt like i had to share it with my lovely angels, (2.3k)

The sound of laughter rings through your house like jingle bells during the holiday season, pitter patters of tiny feet tumbling against hardwood floors, and bigger ones chasing after them invade your ears. Squeals of laughter pour out through an open window as you pull bags of groceries out of the trunk of your car, the sound of running dying down when the trunk closes with a thump. "Is mommy home?" You hear a familiarly sweet voice say. "I think she is. Come on, let's see if we can beat her to the door."

Bags in hand, you walk up the pathway to the entrance of your house. The street of your suburban neighborhood, mostly empty on this chilly winter night, save for some residents walking their dogs before lights get turned off. The sound of a lock clicks before you're even halfway up the path, and soon after, you're met with Jason and your daughter standing in the doorway looking ridiculous, goofy grins on both of their faces. Red bows are hidden amongst his hair, some tied around short braids, some just hanging loosely on a few strands bunched together. Pink pajama pants peek out from under the red tutu she's wearing, and she dons pink ballet slippers on her feet as if she's about to perform the Nutcracker.

He steps outside, meeting you at the top of the steps, hooking his fingers under the canvas straps of your reusable tote bags—an investment you'd made to offset some of the carbon emissions from his bike—and takes them into his hands. "New hair, huh?" you ask, eyeing the variety of red satin ribbons tied in knots littering the expanse of his head. "Yeah, you like?" He asks, turning towards you, lowering his head a bit so you can get a better look. You roll your eyes, but there's a smile playing on your lips at the image of Jason sitting down while your daughter's tiny hands play hairdresser with bows and barrettes.

You close the front door behind him as he makes his way toward the kitchen to unpack the groceries, turning your attention to the little girl in front of you sporting a toothy grin. "I thought ballet ended hours ago," you say, eyeing the layers of bright red tulle you had previously hidden to avoid the specks of glitter that shed every time she moved. "She had to practice her pirouettes." you hear Jason say from inside the fridge. "Yeah, mommy. I was practicing my pirouettes." She pouts her lips and cocks her head to the side, small hands fidgeting as she tries to use cuteness to get out of trouble. You cross your arms and squint your eyes at her, "Uh huh. And the hair?" You gesture to Jason, walking toward you. "What does that have to do with pirouettes?"

He joins the two of you in the living room holding up a container of Gerber baby puffs, using them as a distraction to get both him and his little girl out of trouble. "What?" You ask, deadpan. "What d'ya mean what? We've got an infant I don't know about?" Your daughter gasps, eyes lighting up suddenly. "A sibling!" He laughs, turning towards you with a raised eyebrow. "No, you jerk. Him, not you, honey," you say, quickly correcting yourself. "They're for me." You snatch the container of blueberry-flavored rice puffs out of his hand, peeling off the lid and shoving a handful into your mouth. "God forbid women enjoy things."

You pop a few more into your mouth before feeling a tug at the coat you still hadn't taken off. When you look down, you're met with your daughter, mouth open and waiting for you to share. She stares at you with wide eyes, using your inability to say no to her to her advantage. Sighing, you raise the container a bit and pause, "Only a few, and you have to get ready for bed after." she nods her head, mouth still open, and you tilt and pour out a substantial amount. She closes her mouth and displays her adorable little smile once again before running off to the bathroom to brush her teeth. "Hold on," Jason shouts down the hallway. "Say thank you to your mom!" You hear feet running again, and soon enough, feel the soft squeeze of your daughter giving you a hug; she presses her head into your lower abdomen as you bring your hand up to softly stroke her hair. "Thank you, Mommy." She says before moving on to Jason and giving an equally soft hug despite using all her might. "And thank you, Daddy, for letting me do your hair." She lets go and scurries off again, leaving a trail of red glitter in her wake for you to clean up.

She disappears into the bathroom, and you watch the hallway, now empty, as she gets ready for bed. You sigh, listening to the sound of water running while she independently does her end-of-the-night tasks, something you'd still helped her with not too long ago. Jason's arms creep around your waist, pulling you against him. His chin rests on your shoulder, and you feel something tickle your neck, but you're not sure if it's his hair or a ribbon. He notices the solemn look in your eyes, a stark contrast to the liveliness he'd seen in you just a few moments ago. "What's wrong? Is it the glitter? Because I can clean that up." He says. "No, not that." You nibble on your bottom lip, lost in thought, trying to organize your feelings. "Just… she's gotten so big." He hums in acknowledgment, his way of saying he shares the sentiment. "I just don't know where the time went." You mumble, overcome with an unexpected sadness. "She's only five." He says into your neck, bringing his hands up to your shoulders and gently pulling off the coat you'd forgotten to take off. "Yeah, but she was just a baby not that long ago. I swear."

The both of you watch her move between her bedroom and the bathroom, soft dark brown curls bouncing with every movement. At five, she was already more responsible than most children her age, having a pretty concrete idea of right and wrong well before most kids do. Responsible for her age, but still just a baby in the grand scheme of everything, and sometimes the two of you would wonder if Jason's occupation might end up inadvertently affecting her and warping her idea of justice, but those fears were almost always disproven as soon as they came and oftentimes you didn't worry more than a few minutes. "We're doing a good job." He says from behind you, rubbing your back in an attempt to take away some of the worry. Normally, it would go away with ease, today, not so much. "We're not bad parents." You say with conviction, but you both know you're just trying to convince yourself of it. "We're not. You know we're not."

He turns you around to face him, away from the hallway, so you can't dwell any longer. His hands move to your upper arms, kneading gently as he searches for your eyes. "What's wrong? Talk to me." You struggle to make eye contact, unsure of your next words. "I think…I think I want another baby." You breathe out, looking down, unable to meet his gaze. Seconds pass, but they feel like minutes, and you barely breathe while you wait for his reaction. Not a single thing in the universe could've prepared you for the words that come out of his mouth. "Is that all? Is that what you were sulking about?" You look up at him, eyes wide, as he lets out a breathy laugh. Oh Jason, your Jason, taking your face in his hands and leaning down so he can look you in your eyes. "Don't scare me like that again, okay? Do you know how fucked up shit has to be for me to be the optimist out of the two of us?" It's your turn to laugh now, a weight having been lifted off your shoulders. "Language," you warn. "Aw, come on, she's way out of earshot." He bends down and presses his lips against yours; you close your eyes, leaning into him, hands finding his chest as you feel all of your worries melt away.

"Blegh."

The sudden sound of a disgusted child, your disgusted child, pulls you away from Jason, and you wipe your mouth in embarrassment. It's just your daughter, but you still feel like a kid who's just been caught stealing candy and is about to get lectured into oblivion; Jason, however, handles it with ease. Taking on a playfully stern tone and pointing an accusatory finger at her, he asks, "Why are you up, little lady? Shouldn't you be in bed?" She mirrors his action, pointing a finger at him now. "You didn't tuck me in or read me my bedtime story." He puts his thumb and forefinger on his chin, seemingly thinking it over. "Hmmm, seems you've got me there." He shrugs before picking her up into his arms and giving her a kiss on the forehead. "You've gone soft," you say with a laugh, the embarrassment of being caught having passed. "What can I say? She's bossy. Gets it from her mama." You nudge his shoulder lightly as he turns in the direction of her room. "Alright, that's enough out of you."

He leaves the door to her bedroom slightly cracked, and you can hear their whispers as they do their nightly routine of picking out a book to read, followed by her falling asleep in his arms. "What do you have in mind tonight?" He asks, laying her down gently on the bed adorned with princess sheets and stuffed animals he'd bought for her during trips around the world. "Can we finish Lord of the Rings?" She grabs her favorite stuffie, a gray bunny with droopy ears and button eyes, and holds it close to her chest as Jason climbs in beside her. "I don't think we can finish it, but we can fit a few pages in before it's time for you to go to sleep. That work for you?" He leans over the side of the bed and picks up a worn copy of Lord of the Rings that had been sitting on top of a stack of books he kept in her room solely for the purpose of bedtime. She nods her head at his question and snuggles further into him as he flips to the page they left off at.

You hear the sound of rustling and know the bedtime story has commenced, leaving you to clean up the mess of glitter and ribbons. Broom in hand, you start to sweep up the remnants of her "pirouette practice." Going up and down the hallway, sweeping back and forth. You catch a glimpse of the photos in the frames lining your wall before coming to a full stop and reminiscing about how far you guys have come. There were some pictures from when it was just the two of you, but most of those were kept digital, hidden amongst miscellaneous screenshots and disorganized photo albums. The majority of the framed photos came after she was born; something so special about being able to hold a photo of the three of you in your hands, to have it on display in your home proudly saying this is my family. Corny, maybe, but you'd never regretted starting the collection, especially since it had been Jason's idea. He'd been insistent that you keep a scrapbook to commemorate your ever-changing lives, but after realizing neither of you had the knack for cutting and gluing bits of paper onto pretty pages, you'd settled on the wall. Now, you look at them so often and always with fondness. Oh, how things had changed since that day, you'd met so long ago.

You don't know how long you'd been standing there, but you hear a door closing softly, and you turn to see Jason trying to make his way into the hallway with minimal noise. "Is she asleep?" You ask, barely above a whisper. "Out like a light." He says, joining you in front of the framed memories. A picture of her as a newborn, freshly discharged from the hospital, catches his eye, "she was really tiny, wasn't she?" He says, voice cracking a little as he remembers the overwhelming fear he'd experienced when you were in labor and how it all went away once he had held her in his arms. You hum in agreement as you both get lost in pictures of her from the past. Birthdays and holidays, family events and major milestones, there was a picture for everything.

There was one of her on his shoulders; she couldn't have been more than two at the time, her tiny fingers laced through locks of jet-black hair. You remember like it was yesterday; she had just watched Ratatouille and was trying to imitate Remy. He had played into it, and he couldn't get her off his shoulders for days after that. Another, taken from her first trip to the beach. You sit behind her, keeping her upright and holding her arms out, making one wave at Jason, who was behind the camera. You smile to yourself, the two of you standing outside of your daughter's bedroom, mostly content, remembering what it was like to have a baby in your arms. The memory of bringing her home floods his brain; how nervous he was yet so insanely happy he couldn't control the smile on his face. A shaky laugh falls from his lips as he pulls down a picture of the three of you still in the hospital, thumb pressed against the glass like he's trying to physically feel the moment. "Yeah…I could do it again."

been working on this almost non stop for 9 hours, literally my longest fic yet (only by like 600 words, but still !!!), special thanks to @kiyozu (my beloved) for giving me this idea !! eek, hope you guys enjoyed it <33 (user orchidsangel is going to sleep now) (also tried following up dialogue with actions this time, gonna see how that goes bc if it’s too hard to follow along with i’ll just go back to he said she said)

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #jason todd fic #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fluff #red hood angst #jason todd i’ll love you forever #divider by benkeibear

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sappynapper · 2 years ago

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Looking after Dream

You take care of your boyfriend after he pulls an all nighter

cws: gn!reader, food, sleepiness, tooth-rotting fluff, use of dream’s real name

you wake up in the morning to cold, uncreased sheets and realise your boyfriend, dream, never came to bed

with a frown you get up and make your way to his office, finding him slumped, bleary-eyed at his computer

he already looks sheepish when you push the door open, knowing what he’s done and how you’ll react

“clay, sweetheart, did you sleep at all?” you ask, sliding onto his lap and peppering a couple of kisses on his cheek, his hands resting on your hips instinctively

“no..” he admits, avoiding eye contact

“hmm”, you think for a moment, “have you eaten anything since yesterday?”

“no” he says again with a small huff, already accepting his fate

“you have 30 seconds to save your work,” you start as dream scrambles to reach around you, clicking frantically, “before i yank the damn cable out of the wall” you finish with a giggle

“no need, no need” dream insists, powering down his pc and returning his hands to your hips, circling his thumbs absently

you smile at him

“are you hungry?” you ask, gently, leaning your head to rest against his, and dream’s stomach answers with a growl

you laugh and dream grins, nuzzling his face into your neck in embarrassment

“yes” he confirms in a soft voice

“ok, how about you shower and change, and i’ll make you some breakfast,” you propose, threading your fingers through his hair, “then you get some rest”

“ok” he mumbles again, not moving from the crook of your neck

you wriggle off his lap regardless, dream whining as you escape his arms, and make your way out of his office

“i love you” he calls after you, fatigue heavy in his voice

you pause in the doorway before coming back and placing a chaste kiss on his lips that he quickly deepens, forcing you to pull away with a laugh

“love you too” you tell him, before leaving for the kitchen again

you work quickly to put together two plates of fluffy american pancakes and pile them with cut up strawberries, banana, and blueberries, drizzling the whole thing with honey. you even find some left over bacon rashers in the fridge and throw them into the mix

you manage to balance both plates on one arm and grab your drinks with your other hand, heading back upstairs

you find dream already back in his chair, dressed in new sweats and his hair damp, smelling of watermelon shower scrub and fresh laundry

“hey” you greet him, pressing a kiss into his curls and placing the food down in front of him

dream looks like he can’t believe his tired eyes as he takes in the piled plates, turning his wide gaze on you as you suck a stray drop of honey off your thumb

he pulls you by your waist back into his lap, taking your hand from where your thumb was still resting against your lips in his and kissing your knuckles before moving to your mouth, chasing the sticky sweetness coating your tongue

“you taste like honey” he tells you, voice getting steadily more gravelly as his tiredness grows

“so do the pancakes-“ he presses another kiss to your lips, “that you’re letting-“ another, “go cold” you finally get out

he hums a hazy acknowledgement, sloppily kissing along your jaw and down your neck

“don’t make me feed you” you threaten, breathlessly

dream chuckles but let’s you go so you can pull over the spare chair, sitting and swinging your legs over his lap before you both pick up your plates and tuck in

you don’t chat much as you eat, dream’s hunger finally catching up with him, wolfing down the pancakes and bacon at record pace

when he’s done you see him eyeing your plate too so, with only a heard-hearted protest from your boyfriend, you push the rest of your breakfast over to him, sipping on your drink to disguise the way you stare at him

his hair is tousled and his eyes are drooping closed even as he chews the last few bites of his pancakes

when he’s done he pushes his plate away from the edge of his desk

“let me wash up” he tries

“hmm no, come lie down with me instead” you tempt

“ok” he agrees, cheeks flushing slightly as even he can’t believe how easily he folded, letting you take him by the hand, getting up out of his chair and following you to your bed

you pile up the pillows and lie down at something of an angle in an attempt to avoid indigestion, letting out a small huff when your 6’3 boyfriend flops down on top of you, immediately wrapping around you like an octopus

you scratch the back of his head gently with one hand, using the other to brush his hair out of his face, placing a kiss on his temple

“thank you” he slurs as he fights off the sleep that threatens to drag him under any second

“you’re welcome baby, love you” you whisper back

“love you too, my life is s-“ he pauses to yawn, “so much better since i met you”

you smile, an impossibly warm feeling filling your chest, but you just hush him

“get some rest, sweet boy”

he whines at the pet name, brain almost completely mush with sleepiness and raw affection

he quickly drifts off and you can’t help but wait a little before starting your day, taking time just to pet his hair and listen to his even breathing

#mcyt x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt fluff

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diordrysdale · 2 years ago

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after dark ⋆ andy barber (part 2)

dark!neighbor!andy barber x camgirl!reader

word count ⋆ 1.1k+

warnings ⋆ smut! minors dni, virtual sex/livestream, cheating, sexual use of a popsicle, age gap (reader in their 20s, andy in his late 40s) daddy kink, masturbation (f), degradation kink, mention of spanking, VERY SLIGHT mention of cnc play (you’ll see).

authors note ⋆ you all will definitely see andy’s dark side next chapter <3

don’t forget to give me some love, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

PART 1

3 days earlier

“you just need to feed sprinkles three times a day, and that’s pretty much it.”

your best friend, lila, handed you her family’s cat as she rushed to gather more of her belongings and tossed them into her luggage.

“the guest room is all yours, make yourself at home!” you followed behind her as she scrambled down the stairs at the sound of her mother calling out for her.

“if our house is still intact when we come back, you’ll get paid,” lila rolled her eyes at her mother as she hugged you goodbye.

“come on, tony! we’re gonna miss the flight!” the eighteen year old boy waved goodbye to his best friend and next door neighbor, jacob barber.

“keys are on the counter top, help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. love you, bye!”

present day

andy huffed as he scrubbed at the dishes, listening to his wife chat loudly on the phone while the television was blaring whatever brain-rotting reality show was trending at the moment.

he tilted his wrist to reveal the time on the apple-watch, 7:03p.m.

it was torture having to wait.

“andrew! go water the plants next door, cindy and the kids aren’t home— carol, stop!” laurie continued laughed on the phone with her friends, forcing andy to count to ten before drying his hands, although the simple act gave him a flashback.

sucking on a popsicle in nothing but your light pink lingerie, you told 60.8k of your loyal subscribers how your day went, how you were terrible bored during a job interview and could only picture yourself spreading your legs for the employer, begging him for the job as he slaps your pussy with his rough belt.

“I’m not sure if I got the job, but at least I have all of you,” you lean back into your cloud-shaped, getting comfortable in the bed you got to call yours for two weeks.

barber543 donated $250.00!

barber543: stop pouting, you make me wanna fuck that slutty mouth of yours til you’re begging me not to

your [e/c] eyes lit up at the familiar user, giddiness running through your veins as you hook your panties to the side with one hand.

“barber543, I did promise a surprise, didn’t I?” You whisper as your other hand moved the blueberry-flavored popsicle towards your sex, moving through your folds before tapping your clit.

“you choose what I call you.” sliding the cold treat inside your cunt, you whimpered at the feeling, heart racing at the notifications of subscribers screen-recording.

barber543: greedy little girl, say mr. barber

“m-mr. barber,” andy shuddered at your breathy words, “don’t fuck me with the popsicle, please.”

barber543: you better fucking take it if you want my cock, you don’t deserve it

“ah- pleaseplease, ‘s too cold-“ your words contrast against how quick you began fucking your cunt with the popsicle, clenching it around it so delicately.

barber543: harder.

“mr. barber, m’ gonna cum, feels too good-“ you choked on your words as your free hand zeroed relentlessly on your numbing clit, back arching as your hand flew out to clutch your bedsheet, leaving half of the blueberry treat in your pulsing cunt.

barber543: wish I could bend you over and slap your ass raw for cumming without my permission.

“don’t punish me, daddy,” your fucked out glance was priceless, removing the popsicle from your center and licked the tip with a breathless giggle.

andy shook his head with a idiotic grin as if he actually was face to face with the angel that you were— or pretended to be.

andy wiped his cum-tainted hand on spare napkin, before something caught his eye.

kneelforhansen donated $3000.00!

kneelforhansen: I’d love to have you for myself. direct message me if you’re interested, kitten.

andy despised the glimmer in your eyes— a look he wanted to believe only belonged to him.

“oh my, thank you,” andy could tell your soft voice was entirely genuine, and he was about to raise the amount, but he remembered than any purchased higher than a thousand would send an alert to his and laurie’s joint email account.

“you’ve made my night, mister.”

andy scowled at the memory— even if a billion people watched your stream, he liked to think you two were simply having a skype-sex session or whatever the younger people used now for video chatting.

facetime?

“hold on- andrew! the plants!” laurie shrilled, waving her hands as she pressed her phone between her ear and her shoulder.

“fucking hell.” andy mumbled, slamming a drawer into place as he made his way out of the house, glancing towards his right and analyzed the garden.

suddenly, he saw purple lights go on in one of the rooms on the second floor.

if cindy’s daughter is still home, why is he doing their chores?

he shoved his hands into his jeans, opting not to water their stupid roses and stupid hortensias and stupid—

his childish thoughts were interrupted by a sweet maserati revving carelessly into the driveway.

he’d be humiliated to admit his jaw dropped at the sight of a celebrity walking about 10 feet away.

devin peters, movie star.

“I’m outside, baby.” he sang into his phone, most likely sending a voice chat as he leaned against the goddess of a car.

the front door swung open, revealing a girl with nothing but a oversized shirt and pink panties, [h/c] hair and beaming [e/c] andy couldn’t mix up.

there was no way.

“there she is.” devin reached out his arms, engulfing you in a needy hug, guiding your legs around his narrow waist.

no. no.

“my pretty girl. how’s my kitten been?” the movie star began walking blindly to the house, mind racing on how many ways he could utterly destroy you.

“oh, crap, that’s lila’s neighbor. hold on,” you wiggled yourself away, shyly making your way towards the older man who was three seconds away from passing out from shock.

“im sure Cindy must’ve told you to take care of these flowers, but I’m house-sitting for a couple weeks. I can manage, mister…”

“barber. mr. barber.”

your eyes widen as your head spun for a split second due to the unquestionable coincidence.

no way.

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

PART 3

a/n; this is my multiverse: lloyd hansen, andy barber & devin peters

(devin peters is chris evans’ cameo character in the movie don’t look up, just a reminder :)

#kali writes !#andy barber #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader smut #andy barber fluff #andy barber x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #andy barber smut

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amphxtrite · 4 years ago

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cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: food, tooth-rotting fluff.

summary: a morning picnic with cedric.

a/n: requested, love this so much!

taglist: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @punkrific @cupidpoison @wonderful-writer @coldlilheart @inglourious-imagines @cedricsyellowscarf @hoe4cedricdiggory @dogsandrocketsocks @draco-and-tom @hey-there-angels @dreamy-clousds @sambucky8

pls message me to be added or removed from my taglist.

word count: 1.4k

hope you enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“Mh-” You sigh, slowly opening your eyes to the feeling of an arm slung over your side and a soft breathing against the back of your neck.

The sun hitting your curtains floods the muted light into your eyes in a faint glow. Blinking, a light snore sounds from behind you catches your attention, a playful smile creeps up your lips.

As slowly as you can, as not to wake him, you turn over onto your other side and shuffle yourself into place until you’re comfortable.

For a moment you hold your breath, waiting for Cedric’s eyes to flutter open, but his soft snores continue and you sigh in relief.

The morning sun hits the brunette in an angelic light, bathing him in a golden glow.

Your eyes skim down Cedric’s shoulder and arm, noticing one arm tucked under your head and one resting on your waist, you blush happily.

Using your hands, you trace your fingertips up and down Cedric’s bicep, following each muscle like a guide down his arm.

A content sigh pulls you from your thoughts and your eyes flicker upwards to his face again to find him staring down at you, a teasing smirk playing at his lips.

“How long have you been awake?” You groan, burying yourself into Cedric’s chest and hiding your pink cheeks.

“Hm- not long, that feels nice though.” Cedric chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around you.

“Mhm?” You giggle, running your fingers along Cedric’s bare chest in small circles.

Rolling his eyes, Cedric presses a kiss to your hairline, effectively pulling you from your spot against Cedric’s torso.

Grinning, you press a butterfly kiss to the brunette’s nose, holding back your giggles as Cedric nuzzles himself into your neck in the process.

“Good morning to you too, love.” You tease, peppering kisses along Cedric’s cheeks and hair.

“Can I go back to sleep dove?” Cedric murmurs, nuzzling his nose into your pajama shirt. “Of course, but we could make breakfast instead hm?” You suggest, tangling your hand into Cedric’s hair.

At the word breakfast, the brunette’s face snaps up, eyes widening in glee.

“Can we have waffles? The ones with chocolate chips?” Cedric pleads with puppy eyes and a light pout.

“My boyfriend and his sweet tooth.” You sigh with a soft laugh, nodding before pressing a kiss to Cedric’s forehead.

“But, you’re helping.” You smirk, shuffling out of Cedric’s arms and hopping off the side of the bed.

“Of course, M’lady!” Cedric states enthusiastically, hopping down behind you as he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder, rocking you gently from side to side.

“Hey, I thought you wanted breakfast!” You giggle, poking fun at the brunette.

“I do, I do.” Cedric chuckles, pushing your forwards out the bedroom door, picking you up bridal style to carry you down the stairs.

“Cedric!”

“What? I can’t hold my princess?” Cedric pouts as he sets you on the floor again.

“I never said that!” You roll your eyes, turning and tugging Cedric into the kitchen by the arms.

“Good, because you my darling, look ever so graceful in my arms.” Cedric smirks, poking you on the nose gently and leaning forwards to catch your lips in a soft kiss.

“Morning breath Ced, y’haven’t even brushed your teeth yet!” You sigh, pretending to be disgusted.

“Oh haha.” Cedric scoffs sarcastically, walking away to grab a bowl from the cabinet to mix your batter. You giggle and retrieve your muggle waffle iron, and just like always Cedric stares in amazement at the small contraption in your hands.

“Cedric you’ve seen me use this a hundred times, what’s with the face?” You smirk.

“Muggles truly are genius, a contraption that makes little cakes, spectacular!” Cedric grins eagerly.

“You sound just like my father when he watches my mother cook.” You giggle, gathering your ingredients.

“I say that sounds like a compliment.” Cedric remarks, grabbing a whisk and some chocolate chips.

“It was darling, pass me the vanilla?” You ask.

“Course love.” Cedric nods, popping a chocolate in his mouth before turning and grabbing the bottle of vanilla. “Now this is real magic here.” Cedric chuckles, lifting the bottle to his nose before handing it to you.

“Right because wands and spells weren’t enough?” You tease, measuring out a half teaspoon and adding it to the mixture.

“It’s food magic, different.” Cedric smirks, pressing a kiss to your forehead and plugging the waffle iron into an outlet.

“Mhm.” You tease, adding a handful of chocolate chips before Cedric adds another with a lick of his lips.

“And to think you still eat these with maple syrup.” You tease with a smirk.

“No such thing as too sweet m’love.” Cedric states, pushing a kiss to your cheek with a loud ‘mwah.’

“Alright then…” You shrug, placing a small piece of butter onto the iron and watching it melt.

Spooning a bit of batter onto the iron, you hum to yourself as the sound of simmering hits your ears.

Cedric grabs two plates from your cabinet and begins cutting up fruit and placing them onto the plates.

“First one’s done Ced.” You smile, placing the first waffle onto a plate and spooning more batter in.

“Do you want blueberries, love?” Cedric asks, grabbing a container of the fruit from your fridge.

“Yeah, strawberries too please.” You smile, placing another waffle onto the plate.

“Want me to set up outside?” Cedric asks, jabbing his thumb towards the exit to your backyard.

“Mhm.” You nod, placing the last of the waffles onto the second plate. “I’m gonna get dressed, want me to grab you a shirt Ced?” You ask, unplugging the waffle iron and walking towards the stairs.

“Why, is this making you flustered?” Cedric teases, flexing his biceps.

“And that’s a yes, I’ll be down in a second, love.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

Cedric smirks, grabbing syrup and a blanket off your living room couch and exiting the back door.

You change out of your pajamas into a light sundress and grab a t-shirt for Cedric before running back downstairs and grabbing your breakfast, careful not to drop anything as you walk yourself outside.

The summer breeze hits you like a warm embrace and you pause for a moment to breathe it all in, relishing in the comfort before it all ended.

“Are you coming over darling, or just gonna stand there looking pretty?” Cedric calls.

There it was. You smirk.

“I’m coming, your majesty.” You laugh, crossing the field barefoot and setting the plates down on the blanket, toss the shirt on Cedric’s head and sit down.

Cedric throws on the t-shirt and wastes no time picking up a waffle and shoving it into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“Didn’t even drown your waffles in syrup yet Cedric, you okay?” You snicker, pushing him gently.

“I- Hun-gy.” Cedric says incoherently in between bites of breakfast.

“Don’t talk while you’re chewing Ced, can’t understand.” You huff, taking a bite of your waffle.

“Said I’m hungry love.” Cedric explains after swallowing his bite.

You nod and pop a strawberry in your mouth, chewing slowly and admiring the sweet flavour.

Cedric opens his mouth expectantly and you roll your eyes and place a strawberry in his mouth. Cedric closes his mouth around the fruit, but cocks his eyebrow flirtingly.

“Seriously Cedric?” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Come on, please?” The brunette laughs leaning closer to you.

“You just love being a romantic don’t you?” You smirk, placing your finger on Cedric’s chin and meeting him halfway.

Cedric retracts the strawberry into his teeth and pulls you closer to him by placing his hand on the back of your head. You smile into the kiss and tilt your chin, letting him deepen the kiss and blushing deeply as the taste of strawberries flood your tongue.

“Really Ced?” You laugh, pulling back a bit, resting your foreheads together

“You know you love it M’darling.” Cedric sighs.

“I do love you.” You shrug, picking up a waffle and holding it up to Cedric’s mouth.

“I love you more.” Cedric chuckles, taking a bite and smirking playfully.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back onto the blanket and relax your feet into the short grass.

Cedric smiles and pops another bite of the waffle into his mouth before moving the plates aside and laying his head on your lap.

Your hand instinctively moves to his hair and begins to get tangled in his tousled curls, Cedric hums in content and lifts his hand to your cheek.

“You’re so beautiful you know that?” Cedric flirts, blowing a kiss up to you.

“How charming, but sorry I have a boyfriend.” You smirk.

“He’s a lucky guy.” Cedric sighs, pulling your chin down to him.

“Well.” You smile, allowing him to connect your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I’d say I’m luckier.”

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory fluff #cedric x y/n #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory x reader fluff

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fragileizywriting · 3 years ago

Text

C'est la Sea

pairing: Luka / Marinette word count: 9,111 chapter: 1/2 rating: E summary: There’s a mermaid in his bed. A pouty, pretty mermaid on his bed. “Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?” “It’s cold,” Marinette shivers, just to prove her point. She collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, trying to tuck in her tail. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

I just can't stop myself from writing Lukanette...

Written for my lovely and beautiful friend @valiantlyjollynightmare !!! Your mermaid AU is so wonderfully written and it gives me so many feels that I had to get the mermaid fever out. Please enjoy!!!

Life is simple and stagnant on land and it goes like this.

Wake up. Put on clothes. Find breakfast somewhere in the tiniest kitchen he’s ever been a witness to. It’s compact to the point that it’s hysterical, and it would probably fit someone of normal size. She’d fit in the kitchen just nicely, because things are about her height and eye level, but he has to crouch in order to see inside the fridge. Why are things so small?

Either way, after breakfast he leaves the house and goes to class.

And the classes are mind-numbing, and repetitive, and after the longest chapter of marine ichthyology he almost sleeps through, he’s on his way to find his friends. He’s made a couple of friends for the few months he’s been around, and tries to socialize with them after most of his morning classes have finished, and attempts to enjoy their company before the second block of afternoon classes happen. His friends are kind, and also in the same field as him, so they’ve mostly come close out of the nature of being in mutual classes, but they’re not anyone he’s really gotten close to.

So he’ll eat lunch with them, at some point. Start his next block of classes, and try his best not to roll his eyes at the casual inconsistencies referenced in the slideshow. Find his friends again, if any are available after class, and eat dinner at some point. Walk home, and politely decline any and all attempts to hang out after they’re finally done for the day— after all, everyone knows that he’s extremely busy studying for his classes.

They ask about her often, ask if he’ll be going to visit her for whatever break they have that gives them a sliver of days between classes, asking for pictures of her and well wishes. They ask about her students, ask if she’ll be getting anything for teacher appreciation week that’s common in Canada, and ask about how his life and family are back there before he transferred.

He makes up lies as he goes, of course, because he’s never actually been to Canada and certainly has never been to Quebec, but it seems to be working. His vague knowledge about the West Atlantic works in his favor because none of his classmates are from there, nor have they ever gone themselves. His friends mean well, knowing the feeling of longing when it comes to missing another person, and always offer condolences to the transfer student who seems to be a fish out of water in a new country with a funny Canadian accent, but they aren’t aware of the true nature of his relationship with her.

They know that he’s married. Human customs are similar to his, and the gold band on his left ring finger is a clear sign. Some people he’s met over the past couple of months have shied away and lost interest in him when they’d looked down to see that he never takes the ring off— he doesn’t hold it against them. His friends speculate about how she manages to handle the long-distance without him, but they have no idea just how hard it actually is.

Because they don’t know about the bond fever.

The fever that makes it harder and harder to breathe without her.

Every moment not thinking of her is just a distraction. Every moment not being next to her is biding time. Food tastes bland, music sounds wonky, and all his body wants to do is move. Staying still will make him curl up and stagnate for the rest of his days, and if he wants to leave this part of his life as fast as possible, he can’t afford to stop moving.

So, he’ll arrive home after school, and check up on the coral and fish in his tank to see if everyone in there is fine and not having a turf war without his knowledge. He’ll attempt to have a conversation with his fish, and feed them until they complain, because he’s never gotten the hang of actually taking care of pets. He’ll spin his ouroboros as he continues to waffle between staying and powering through, or the second option of leaving everything behind and dropping everything in favor of her. Work out to get rid of feelings of loneliness— of this horrible, aching bond fever that grips his heart enough to squeeze and hurt and make him regret ever turning to the surface in the first place.

He’ll take the scenic route, along the shore, looking over the ocean he knows and loves dearly. The sun will set over the sea as he takes a break when the buildup of lactic acid in his body gets too painful. It’ll take him hours, probably, of hard running down by the water, but it’ll be enough to get him to stop thinking about her for even a smidge.

Take a shower, afterwards, and making absolute-positive sure that his ouroboros is safely and securely wrapped around his wrist, lest he loses his sea legs— and try to talk to his fish again to get a conversation. Try to finish his homework before passing out asleep on his bed.

Sometimes he remembers to pull the bedsheets up on him. But most of the time he falls asleep in whatever position he’s laid himself down onto the bed, waking up with his arms and legs facing all the wrong way and the alarm on his phone blaring at him to wake up. He wakes up stiff, and sore, but there’s barely any time to sit back and relax before his day starts all over again.

Rinse.

Wash.

Repeat.

Over and over until the days glaze and mesh in his head.

He’s tired— the fish are his only true company, for now, and they rarely talk to him unless they’re begging for food. Sometimes they have a conversation with him when he really gets personal and deep with them, but they don’t really offer much advice, other than the occasional idea to spice up his diet and take a new route to school.

There’s nothing that can get him out of this slump. Nothing above land, anyway. Some days, on the weekends when he has enough time to, he opens the windows that box his mattress as well as the windows in the living room, and lets the salty breeze fly in through the whole houseboat— indulges in the idea of being back home with her— before he begrudgingly faces back to the stacks and stacks of homework piled on his desk.

It’ll be worth it. Just a year and a half left. The ring on his finger is proof enough of that. The bond fever may hurt, and may try to push him to go home, but he knows that she’ll be upset with him if he doesn’t finish school. She’ll probably shove him back up here herself, with her pouting and determined face. She’s docile, but bull-headed, and sometimes the storms in her eyes are as terrifying as the sea he’s from, and he’s certain that she won’t be satisfied until he has that diploma in his hand.

So, he puts his bag down by the door, kicks off his shoes, deadbolts the door behind him, and goes hunting for anything in his fridge that is available. He’s hungry, and he’s far more metabolic in this form than in his normal one, something about being on land just makes him hungrier— and nothing is safe from him when it comes to food.

His houseboat is about the size of a clam, the kitchen itself smaller than a pearl, but the ceiling is tall enough so that he doesn’t have to keep his head down whenever he walks around, so he can’t exactly complain— even when he opens the door to his fridge the size of a child, there’s nothing but a lettuce head that is definitely more white than green, a small box of blueberries he buys every time he makes eye contact with it in the store and thinks of her, and his leftover carton of eggs. The box of blueberries is full, still, and he’s convinced that he leaves it in the fridge until it rots just in case she ends up showing up and wants her favorite food.

But…

Life is simple, and stagnant on land, and he’s forgotten to do groceries this week.

Rinse, wash, and repeat.

He makes quick work of making the saddest scrambled eggs he could possibly produce in his lifetime, using up all of the leftover eggs— six of them, and he won’t be able to regret the amount of food he’s eating until he wakes up tomorrow with absolutely nothing to eat— and proceeds to bin the shells immediately. He eats over the sink, a utensil in one hand and the handle of the pan in the other, spooning and chasing runny eggs into his mouth, barely paying attention to the flavor.

He’s famished. And it’s not like he’d even be able to taste the flavor, anyway, from how bad his heart hurts. Bond fever is a finicky thing.

At least he remembered to throw the eggshells away in the proper place, instead of letting them clog up the sink.

He’d compost them, if he had any plants to take care of— but that’s always been her department, not his. The walls of his one-bedroom one-bathroom boat are sparse and empty— simply just a bed with a comfortable duvet and blue sheets, his tank full of fish that don’t offer enough company, a desk with some shelves to study at, lined with textbooks, and a wobbly table to eat at. He’d splurged on the extra desk— he could’ve just used the eating table— but knew it was probably better to keep his school papers and food away from each other. Besides, the back left leg of the table definitely looks like it’s about to cave at any point. It’s why he’s started just eating standing up and over the sink.

But she would never let him live like this.

It’s a clean house, and everything has its place, but it’s barren. Almost as if he doesn’t really live here.

And to be honest, he doesn’t. Physically, he spends most of his time here, but— bond fever makes him completely and totally disoriented. Mentally and emotionally he is nowhere near land, but rather in her arms, away from this simple and bland house.

But if she were here… truly here, instead of a fleeting moment…

She would decorate the walls with paint. Put up shelves. Print out photos, and frame them, because she’s enamored with the idea of ink and stains and items that permanently stain other things. She’d taken up to painting quite well, the last time— buying a selection of beginner’s acrylic gouaches in many different colors, and had set to work painting for the first time in her life. The world had exploded onto the canvases. Boats, sunrises, shores from distant islands, a turbulent and salty sea— she’d painted like she was taking a photograph and was developing it right onto the canvas.

He wishes he had the paintings with him now. Anything and everything to keep him company— any remembrance of her is such a blessing. He’ll take it all, if he can. Somedays, the ring on his finger just isn’t enough to keep his heart from hurting. He’ll catch sight of a bolt of ruffled pink fabric in a store window that is so glossy and sheer and delicate that he’ll find himself spinning his ring nonstop, dreaming of being together with her again.

Just a year and a half…

She’d line the shelves with rocks. Trinkets. Keychains from cities they’d gone to together, braided knots, and beautiful jewelry. And how could he forget the plants upon plants she’d shove into every square inch of the place, to the point where the houseboat would be a living and breathing creature from all of the greenery? Sunflowers— peonies— roses— lilacs— geraniums— tulips— every flower she could possibly find at a flower shop would somehow make it onto a flat surface in the houseboat.

This houseboat is empty without her. He spins the ring on his finger, thinking to himself about her— wishing and longing to see her. Just a year and a half more. He can visit on holidays, if he can afford it— but this isn’t just for him. It’s for her, too.

He flicks the light on in his room after washing the dishes, in the process of taking off his shirt, getting ready to try talking to the fish today in the far corner, the furthest away from his full-sized mattress, before giving in to go on a run along the docks. He almost throws his shirt onto the bed— when— well.

That’s when he notices the mermaid on his bed.

The sleeping mermaid on his bed.

She’s dozing off— hidden under his blanket, the mass of blue covers pulled tight around her naked shoulders. One of her pale arms has escaped from the mess she’s made of the fabric, and it hangs off the bed— steam rising softly off of her skin like she’s slowly being cooked, matching ring glinting in the light of the lamp on his nightstand. His eyes widen at the sight of her— the slow and soft drag of her tail fins against the floor as she inhales and exhales, because even curled up she can’t fit all of her on the mattress. She’s never been considered large, not proportionately, but the tail fins are long and delicate, and the mattress is far too small to fit the both of them if he were in his normal form too.

Pink, shimmery and translucent fins flutter as if caught by a slow breeze— petal-like in shape and it always feels silky against his fingertips whenever he’s touched her in the past, and today it looks no different. He follows the line of her fins back up to her tail that disappears underneath the comfortable blanket, where she’s wrapped herself to keep warm from the stale and stagnant air that permeates the room. He’s always liked the temperature around him to be colder, because of how he grew up, but she’s never been able to handle the slight freeze unless she’s been charmed, the little reef-dweller. Either charmed or wrapped up so tightly around him in order to soak up his body heat, nearly squeezing him to death. He sleeps with an eel of a woman, whenever they’re together, completely and totally reluctant to ever let him go.

Like now.

She’s here.

Here.

Strangling the blanket around her shoulders to keep the cold away from her.

His heart squeezes, and he finds himself on his knees, not exactly kneeling on the mattress but rather the floor just in front of her— gently parting the blanket enough to locate her other arm. She hums at the back of her throat when the cold air reaches and pebbles her porcelain skin— face pinching softly at the cold— before she blinks awake when he whispers her name in order to rouse her.

He’s always loved her blue eyes. Especially when they look at him, shining and shimmering like diamonds. “Mmmm?”

“Hi,” He checks her ears for her own magical charm. They’re there, and safely secured on her ear lobes, two perfectly beautiful pink pearls. They had been wedding gifts to her from her job at the school, that many of the parents had chipped in to get her a charm that would be able to withstand long periods of time outside of the sea, and he’s never been so grateful as now to see her wear them. “How long have you been here for?”

She’s always been a slow riser when she wakes up, so the first few seconds of her being conscious again are routinely docile and sweet, and today is no different. Her face softens the moment she recognizes where she is and who she’s looking at, a certain sweetness in her eyes that makes his heart hurt. “Luka? Oh, oh— Luka—”

She latches onto him tightly, pulling him close by her arms around his neck and shoulders with a happy noise. She smells of the ocean, even though she’s dry— her soft black hair just as silky, and just as long as it’s always been. It spills between his fingers as he combs through it, almost liquid on the web of his fingers and down his wrist, and he spends a moment or two just basking in her warmth, basking in the way she sighs against him. She kisses the closest skin available to her, which seems to be his shoulder, his collarbone, his chest, and his bicep— smiling happily up at him when he pulls away enough to look at her in the eyes.

“Marinette— Marinette— I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Her eyes look glassy with tears. “Your fish told me you would be home later— why are you here so early? I thought I had time to surprise you and greet you at the door.”

“You must’ve slept for too long,” He noses at the shell of her ear. “This is about the time I get home every day. But little pearl, what are you doing here? Did you travel safely? Don’t get me wrong, please— I’m so thankful— but when did you show up? No injuries? It’s not a holiday at home, I don’t think, is it?”

“I’m okay. Everything’s okay. No one saw me, and no one tried fishing for me. I just couldn’t keep waiting for you to come back,” She hums. Marinette’s always been a singer, ever since they met for the first time. Always a tune in her voice, always singing and humming away like a never-ending record player. “I’ve missed you so much, Luka, you have no idea— so I just decided that today was enough waiting. I dropped everything off and told my parents that I needed to see you— you, my darling sky.”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” He kisses her. And then again. And then again. And again. He keeps doing it until it hurts to not breathe— but even then, he doesn’t really find the desire to pull away. After all, this is much easier than what he’s dealt with for the past year. “Every day, my heartache just keeps getting worse— this is horrible. How are we supposed to keep this up for another year?”

“And I thought the wedding would’ve been the hard part of all of this— turns out that the bond is just as real as they say.” She giggles as she pulls him closer. He leans over her, wrapping an arm around the smallest part of her waist, resting his open palm on her upper back to support her as he lays her back down. She’s handsy— he doesn’t blame her— brushing her fingertips on all the skin available to her, making an unsatisfied noise when she reaches his jeans. “Take these off?”

Ah. Lovely Marinette. Always so handsy and desperate for close contact— as if he’s any better. He hasn’t seen her in so long, he’s seconds from stopping the pleasantries and letting her know just how much he’s actually missed her. “But—”

“You’ve never been shy before.” She clicks her tongue with a silly little eye roll. She traces his tattoo on his arm, a small smile on her face, following the compass rose’s north tip up his arm. She makes it to the boat with seven sails, before looking up at him rather confused. “There’s nothing you haven’t already shown me— I’ve seen every single centimeter of you and every last scale. Unless— uhm— has something changed?”

“No, nothing has changed— relax that worry in your eyes.” He laughs, and can’t help himself when he kisses her again, slow enough to distract her as he pulls his jeans off, leaving his boxers behind. Her eyes blow wide at the sight of him naked, save for the jade ouroboros around his wrist and the band of his underwear. He hopes it isn’t inside out. “I just meant that I’ve barely been able to look at you, and I know you won’t let me go until it’s tomorrow if I let you have your way. You’re hidden underneath the blanket— let me look at you first before your tail disappears. Why are you wrapped up like a sushi roll, sweetheart?”

“It’s cold,” She shivers, just to prove her point, attempting to pull a fast one on him and reaching for the waistband of his boxers before he snags her wrist with a laugh. Thin and soft shoulders curl underneath his palms in an attempt to stop heat from escaping, and she collects an edge of the blanket to cover herself back up and make a bigger mess out of the covers, locks of her hair spilling over the blanket, pooling to where her waist should be. She tries to tuck in her tail with mixed results. “Why is it colder on land than it is on sea? How are you able to withstand this much frost, Luka? Even my scales are starting to go stiff.”

“Reef-dweller,” He grins.

“Yes, yes, continue to make fun of you poor wife who cannot contain heat because of biology. But you don’t have your scales on you right now, you sea serpent.” She pouts. “I should be much more suited for this cold than you should be, right now.”

He guides her burritoed form closer with a warm smile. Her fins flutter, delicate and sweet, as he pulls her close enough for her to rest part of her tail on his lap as he gently reaches for the edges of the blanket again. “It isn’t actually that cold. You’re just losing heat so you can get your sea legs, remember?”

“Unfortunately, I’m starting to remember the hard way. Stars, I keep forgetting how uncomfortable the transformation is. Maybe I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Let me see you,” He noses at her jawline.

“Only if you promise to warm me up after,” She teases, and she actually manages to snap his waistband against his hip, making him hiss at the sensation. She giggles, kicking up her tail delightfully at the noise he makes. “Please, sky?”

They’re politely ignoring the way he’s starting to fill out his underwear already at the sight of her. It’s instinctual, of course, because of bonds and magic and, well, it is Marinette that’s looking at him like she’s famished. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”

Steam billows from the opened pocket of the blanket the moment he unwraps her and finally takes a good look at her. Sweet stars, he’s missed her so much, and he shows her just how much by touching her everywhere. She shivers under his fingertips as he traces the small scales that line her chest and stomach. They’re starting to retreat and fade, now that the drying process is finishing up, but she’s still completely smooth and too scaled to have her human characteristics just yet.

“You’re shivering, my sweet pearl.”

“Yes, but— your hands are so warm,” She sighs.

There’s a gentle swell to her chest, hidden beneath the neat rows of hazy pink scales, but the swell isn’t as much as what she has in her human form. He’d learned early on, when they’d first tried their magic charms and had gained their sea legs, that he loves all versions of her body— including when her chest fills his palms with such softness he feels like weeping, with pink peaks that make her sing whenever he tweaks them. Everything about her is delicate, like the world’s most fragile flower.

But very soon, he’s going to end up with an entirely naked woman on his bed instead of a mermaid. Both are lovely ideas. He’ll be able to watch her wobble on her sea legs for an hour or two before she relearns her balance, and have to guide her by her naked hips if she wants to leave the room. She’ll probably want to stretch her legs, and take a turn about the very small boathouse, but they probably won’t be able to leave the house today. That look in her eyes is telling.

As if he’s any better.

He traces the rows of scales down her stomach, the scales getting thicker and larger as he reaches just about where her tail technically begins at the hips. Her arms, too, have patches of translucent pink scales that are starting to disappear in favor of just skin, and he follows the long line of her tail down with a palm.

He skirts over the area that he knows she so desperately wants to guide him to, gaining a brief huff and pout from her as he instead grazes along her scales all the way to her long and beautiful curtain fin. His touches are soft, and barely noticeable— but it’s enough to get her to twitch.

He starts to tickle her.

“Luka,” She slaps her tail on the mattress in an attempt to make him stop tickling her, and her hand grabs for his— but her laughter is so contagious he can hardly stand it himself. “What— ha— what are you— oh, stars— d-doing?”

“I haven’t seen my wife in almost a year,” He gives her a smile, laughing at the way she squirms uselessly under his hands. “Can I not touch her?”

“You can touch— but—” Such sweet laughter! “But why— oh! Why touch me there when I’m ticklish?”

“Oh? Would you rather me touch you higher?”

“Yes,” She giggles. “Oh, please, I know exactly where I’d like you to touch me. But buy me dinner first, at least.”

“I’ll do more than that, sweetheart.” He licks his lips, watching the way she shifts to prop herself on her elbows. She blows her bangs out of her face when it starts to fall across her lashes, looking at him with sparkling beautiful eyes. She’s so pretty. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all of that, but his love for her has never diminished in the first place. Sweet beautiful melody. “What is it that my lovely girl wants?”

“Hm…”

“Make it count, of course. Your tail is going to disappear soon.”

“How about: you tell me that you want me like this, sky,” She peeks at him from under her lashes.

He wants her in any form, this won’t be too hard. “I want you.”

She’s feeling cheeky, isn’t she? That smile is proof alone. “Tell me you need me.”

“As if I have to say that.” But she prods him with a cute pout when he rolls his eyes, and he acquiesces: “I need you.”

“Tell me you can’t live without me.”

“I’m miserable without you. So miserable.” He means it. And she knows it. “I don’t want to keep doing this long-distance anymore. I’ve never been so miserable.”

She tilts her head to the side with another hum, looking around the room. “Tell me you’ll let me decorate our home— it’s so bland in here. Where are all the flowers? The music?”

“Please decorate—” His brain flatlines. “Wait, decorate? This house? This— our— house? Home?”

“Surprise!” Another peal of laughter escapes from her, and it follows through her body to a delicate flick of her tail.

His eyes widen. “You— you’re staying?”

“Yes!” She nods, shimmying on her elbows as she grins. “Yes yes yes!”

“But— Marinette— you—” Sweet stars, she’s staying. She’s staying. How could he ever want her to go? The love of his life, the jewel in his heart, and his wife— staying for longer than a few fleeting moments when she can afford to slip away from home? Oh— oh— his heart could burst.

“I can’t stay away from you.” She confesses, cupping his hand and kissing the gold band on his finger. She balances her upper weight on her other elbow, but doesn’t seem to struggle under her own weight. “I’m tired of being away. The bond is making me miserable, Luka, and I’ve had just about enough of it. So, I decided to make it easy on the both of us.”

“But—”

She winks. “I know.”

“And—”

“Yes, that too.”

“Also, your job—”

“I know,” Her laughter is so sweet. He can’t even finish his sentences without her answering as if they’re on the same wavelength— oh— he’s missed this woman so much. “I know, sky. I know. But all of it will be there still when we go back next year. My students won’t go to the next teacher until five years from now. I’ve already talked to the other teachers about me disappearing off with you for a year.”

She… she would really be willing to give up everything, just like that, just for him? Her students, her daily work, her desire to teach? Her desire to nurture? All of it, just to be with him? “I can’t do that to you, little pearl. I know how important your students are to you— I can’t ask you to stay away from them. Maybe I should just go home with you, instead.”

“Luka, honestly! You’re not doing this to me, I want to stay with you— and you better finish this degree of yours. You’ve worked too hard! You know why I couldn’t come with you in the first place, but a year has changed and things are better now, my parents got help from a new family that’s moved into the reef. We can afford a year away from home now, my sweet. A real year away. You know I get one year off to stay with my bond.”

“But that was only as soon as you get married— that was, sweet stars— it was eleven months ago.”

“And I never used it,” She informs him, as if he hadn’t also spent the last year lonely and miserable. “So it’s still viable. I told you, I already talked to the other teachers.”

“But our family—”

“—is completely and totally better off without me constantly sighing in their ears.” She shrugs with a soft smile. It’s a little difficult, given that she’s still propped up on her elbows, but she makes it work. “If I touched my ring one more time in front of my mother, she would’ve personally pushed me out of the ocean herself. Not to mention your mother, telling me that ‘it’s not good to leave your bond alone, lassie. Bonds need to be cultivated, lassie’. Two mothers pushing me up onto the docks, telling me to sleep easy for at least one night. Better me than your mother dragging you back home to deal with me and my nightmares.”

She looks thin. Thinner than usual for springtime, and her face definitely looks a little darker than usual. His poor Marinette, how could he have done this to her? But it’s not like he isn’t affected in the same way, either… all of those nightmares and dull days, wishing to see and hold her. “Have you been eating? You’re looking thin.”

Perhaps they shouldn’t keep trying to test the universal truths with their bond. They really need that year together, don’t they?

“Me? You look thin, Luka.” There’s a frown making its way to the edges of her lips. “Is there not enough food for you? When was the last time you ate?”

“Tuttering pearl,” He murmurs. “Always worrying about me.”

“With good reason to,” She pouts. “Of course I worry about you, sky. What kind of spouse would I be if I didn’t ask my husband if he’s okay? Not a very good one, right?”

“I’ve been eating okay. I eat more in this form.”

“You look pale, my sweet.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been having trouble,” He admits. “Life has been so stagnant without you that I’m kind of just running like a machine. The days are all a blur, and it’s gotten to where I don’t even remember days unless I have a test or homework due that day. I already knew that university was miserable, but— ah, little pearl— don’t cry. It’s alright.”

Marinette’s going to burst into tears. “How stupid of me, leaving you alone.”

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t leave me alone.”

“You’re not as healthy as you usually are,” She hushes a bit when he kisses her, but it’s not enough. “I should’ve been here.”

“No. No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one who left, and I shouldn’t have done that to you. To us.”

“I should’ve come with you.”

“I should’ve waited.” He kisses her again. And again. And again. “I should’ve waited just a little longer to come back up here.”

“You would’ve missed the scholarship if you had. Life could’ve waited for us back home— I should’ve come with you.”

Her tears taste like the ocean, too. “It’s okay, pearl.”

“Oh, sky,” Her eyes are so watery, even as he tries to calm her down with a gentle hand running down her scales. “What idiots we were.”

He tries for a smile. “Everyone told us this would happen.”

“They did,” She nods, sniffing into his palms as he cradles her face and wipes her lower eyelids free of tears. “They did, and we didn’t listen, and it’s cost us a whole year away from one another. How were we supposed to know it got this bad? It hurts to breathe without you.”

“I guess we were just supposed to listen to them,” He kisses her when she tilts her head up in an indication that she wants his lips on hers. He kisses her enough to make her eyes slip shut, and for her body to shiver as he reaches around her again to hold her at the waist. Sweet, sweet Marinette.

“Never again. Never ever again. I’m so thankful I’m here— I won’t let you go. I need you so much. Will you have me forever?”

There’s no need to ask. “Always. I did end up bonding with you, after all.”

She snorts, almost surprising herself with the noise. “A wise choice, you know. I’ve been told I’m very ‘agreeable’.”

Luka finds himself smiling. “Which parent said that?”

“Her child was impossible to console, every morning there was a new battle with this student. Every afternoon his mother would tell me that if no one ends up bonding with me by the following winter, she’ll start courting me herself, completely oblivious to the ring on my finger. She’s amazed at how easy I handle children, and I’m amazed she can just ignore the clear signs of me having bond fever for this long.”

“You’re perfect at your job,” They both laugh when he’s close enough to her to press his forehead onto hers. “But remember that you’re not the only one that wants to take care of their loved one. No more bond fever. I promise.”

“Definitely not. I’ll make sure to chase it out of our bodies on my own, if I have to.”

“Won’t stop until it’s gone?”

“Making up for the time we spent away,” She nods. “It might take us a little longer than normal, from how bad the fever’s gotten, but I don’t think you mind.”

“Greedy.” He grins. “How will I survive?”

She folds herself around him, encircling him as tightly as possible while still allowing him to move his arms. There’s genuine muscle behind the delicateness of her scales and fins— and while she can’t actually hurt his skin with her scales from how tough-skinned he is even in his human form, he is worried that she might accidentally hurt herself by how brittle and fragile they are. She’s still drying out, going through the process of getting her sea legs, meaning that her tail and fins aren’t as slippery as they usually are. “You’ve been captured, sky. No use trying to escape now.”

Their charms soak up most of the oils on their body, allowing them to fully dry out and gain human legs. Marinette is in the final moments of the transformation, which gives him about thirty more minutes of enjoying seeing his wife like she normally looks before she’s safely hidden amongst other humans.

But still, unbeknown to his wishes to see her completely laid flat, she continues to wrap around him, humming at the back of her throat as she soaks up his body heat, coiling around him like an eel. Cold little pearl. “Still freezing, my sweet?”

“I’m feeling a little better. I don’t think I’m losing any more body heat, but I’ll take any opportunity to be attached to you. I don’t want to let you go for the next ten days. Or weeks. Or months. What do you say to a whole year of us together in this bed?”

“We need to eat at some point.”

“I believe you said that there are delivery services available?” She hums. “I really liked pizza the last time. Do they make pizza with blueberries on them?”

“I’m not sure they do.”

“They should,” She makes a happy noise. “The taste would be sublime. Blueberries are so wonderful. Or how about blueberries and peaches on the pizza?”

“Humans would probably tell you that the pizza you’re craving is a crime.” His laughter is genuine, bubbling out of him at the idea of Marinette eating a slice of what humans consider revolting. “They don’t put fruit on them.”

“They’re missing out on flavors they never would’ve imagined.” She pouts.

“What are we going to do with your horrifying taste palette? You have the appetite of a sea-dweller. Are you sure you’ve lived your entire life in the reef?”

“All of my years, yes.” She giggles. “I don’t imagine I would be a very good sea-dweller. Much too cold down there.”

He smiles when a shiver travels down her tail at the thought of the water. “Oh, yes, how could I have forgotten that I promised to warm you up? Maybe I should cash that in now.”

A hand makes it to his boxers. She snaps his waistband with another version of her soft smiles and those wandering, glittering blue eyes, and, oh— it’s impossible for him to take off his underwear like this, with her tail completely wrapped around him like she’s a snake— but his wife is nothing short of persistent as she kisses his side. He shivers when her tongue sneaks against his skin, wet and moist, and he can feel himself involuntarily twitch his toes at the feeling. “Maybe I should warm you up instead, sky. You look like you’re having a rough time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“You are hopelessly mistaken if you think I’m going to allow you to have free reign of my body before I’m able to enjoy the last sights of you like this.” Even as his toes continue to twitch with the way she mouths at his ribs. “You ravenous woman. You’re terrible at sharing, and I’ve missed you very much.”

“Oh, it’s not as if I can’t just take off my earrings and let you enjoy touching my scales some more.”

“You know what I mean,” He scrunches his nose. “Let me do this properly.”

“I’ll let you do whatever you’d like as long as I get to go first.” She tugs at the elastic. “Please? Just a few minutes, Luka? A decently sized amount of time to get my mouth on you?”

Oh, conniving mermaid. “I do not make deals with you. The last time I did, I ended up getting married to you.”

“As if that’s a bad thing!”

“I don’t regret it,” He shares a grin with her. “Definitely not. But you just have a way of convincing me to do things.”

“Oh, so I convinced you to marry me? Funny, I remember something about how you were convinced you were bad for me, but couldn’t help yourself but to keep trying to court me…” She giggles when he attempts to squeeze out of her grasp, rolling his eyes affectionately. “There’s no escaping, sky. Not with your sea legs, I’m afraid.”

It’s true. He is a lot stronger than her with his tail. With just about anything, really, because merfolk from the reefs are nothing compared to the ones out in the open sea with hardened skin and longer figures, but…

“This bed will break if I get rid of them,” He manages to get one of his legs out, much to her complaints. She’s far too dry for her to keep a genuine grip on him, poor thing. “Stretch out, little pearl. I’m curious to see how well you can last.”

“Will you take me like this?” She gasps, letting him unwrap her enough for his other leg to slip out from underneath her. “Oh, sky, yes please! I’m not sure—”

“We’ll do that next time. I have something else in mind.” Although he’s willing to try. Maybe when she isn’t on the cusp of transforming out of her tail, because that would take a little longer for them to find the best position— she’s always so small and tight as it is. It would be easier in water, of course, so that she’s in whatever position is more comfortable for her, but with his ouroboros on he breathes like a normal human. Sadly, he would probably drown himself.

Marinette would kill him.

A good way to go. But still killed and drowned all the same.

She’s still ticklish under his fingertips when he brushes over her scales again, but her cheeks are slowly pinking as they make eye contact. She’s not shy— definitely not. Honestly, she’s much more adventurous than him, in this aspect, but it’s been so long since they’ve been together, and he hopes that he remembers how to please her to the point she sings. Even though she’s excited, and he can tell by the way her fins twitch at the end of the bed, she mostly keeps still as he follows her scales back to where she’s wanted him to be from the very beginning.

Ah, there she is.

This spot is definitely not dry.

Soft, and full of slick, she opens gently to his prodding fingers with a sigh. Her nails are blunt, but they feel like little needles on his shoulders as she grips him, trying her best not to squirm and overwhelm him. Her body is tightly wound, almost hurtful, and even with the slick she’s not that easy to sink into down to the knuckle like he’d imagined. He hisses at how tight she is, feeling his cheeks heat and something stir at the base of his spine, panting as he hears her squelch as he pushes in more and more. “Why are you so tight, pearl?”

“I— oh— haven’t had much time to myself, the school keeps me so busy—” She makes a noise of contentment anyway, brushing her hair back and around her as he fingers her open. She’s a pretty sight, with her hair long and flat like ribbons near her waist. If he twists his finger this way�� maybe she’ll… “And you know I don’t like doing it— oh, stars! Luka, yes, more of that—”

“Easy,” He grins, making sure she doesn’t squirm completely away from his hands. She wants to stay, she does, and he knows that, but she’s always too excited to keep still and let him finish. She wants all of it. She wants all of him, and always ends up rushing to the good parts instead of enjoying the moment. “Finish what you were saying, sweetheart.”

She huffs when he stills his finger, batting her tail along the end of the mattress. “I don’t like doing it alone, you know, and it’s been rather lonely doing it.”

“I know what you mean,” He fills in the silence between her panting, twisting his finger again and making her eyes roll as a groan leaves her.

She bites her lip. “I’d rather you help me out, it always feels so much better— oh— you’re just so good, sky.”

“Oh, am I?” He meets her gaze almost challengingly, slowing his fingers down enough to get a shine back into her hazing eyes. “So does that mean you thought about me?”

Does he really deserve that fin slap onto his shoulder? He would say no, but, there’s not much of an argument to be made when she rolls her eyes. “Of course I thought about you. What kind of ridiculous question is that?”

“Let me guess,” He tilts his head to the side, blinking at her with shaggy hair in his lashes. “Did you think about the last time we did it? How I’d made you sing for hours?”

“No— I mean, well, yes— but—” She moans.

He hums. “You almost woke up our neighbors with your sighs. Pretty little thing.”

“You know, I also thought about my husband hurrying up whenever he decided to finger me,” Her smile curls silly when all he does is laugh and continue to stall. Slicking his fingers against the soft and wet slit, only gently sinking in only to pull out again, making her mewl out. “I want to get you out of those boxers, damn this tail! Your cock is calling my name, I know it— if only I had the legs to catch you with, you’d see the summit of my desires.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that. A reef-dweller, trying to outmaneuver a deep-sea dweller.”

“You’re not as scary as you think, sky,” Her shoulders shake from laughter, and he retaliates by curling his fingers just so in order to get that whine back into her voice. “I’ll— oh my— h-have you know, I got over your differentness—”

“My ‘differentness’?” He grins, but she doesn’t elaborate.

“—within the first year of meeting you. Maybe even the first month— I knew from the moment your eyes turned into gold that I was going to marry you. Our friends were confused and terrified of it— but I knew that you’re nothing more than a guppy. And I knew it from the moment you scales changed colors to match the reef that I had found my eternal love.”

“Sweet,” He muses, trying his best not to blush. “But you are still no match for a deep-sea dweller, my love. They’re tougher than nails. The bullies of the merworld.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s true.” But she doesn’t make eye contact with him anymore, instead looking down at his boxers with a knowing look. His body stirs as she continues to look at him, wetting her lips with a slow drag of her tongue, enraptured by what she sees. “The ever scary deep sea, with their terrifying personalities and scary men who want nothing more than to please their wives.”

“And I, of course, wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Something in her switches, and her gaze snaps up to his. He looks at her shining eyes, watching them widen into a lovely shape as she whines at the back of her throat. “Let me have you, Luka, before I lose my mind from how much I need you.”

His finger goes back to making her sing. “I love it when you beg, sweetheart.”

“Ridiculous man,” She rolls her eyes but it almost feels forced as her face turns redder and redder. “Just— oh— watch out, sky, because once you’re done I’ll return the favor.”

She drags him closer for a kiss. He eases another finger into her, desperate to make the humming noise turn into a full-on shout, but he gets distracted by the way her tongue presses into his. Inquisitive, as usual, his pearl is frantic for him as she curls her tongue into his mouth, parting her own lips in a moan when he angles his head to the side and nips at her bottom lip with his teeth.

She’s alive under his fingers. Tight, yes— warmer than a furnace, too— she’s everything he loves and craves. He’ll chase the bond fever out of her, too, even if it takes him all night, but the way she sings praises of his fingers curling and uncurling in her as he works her open is a sign that it might not be long before his pearl is gushing over his fingers.

But the bond fever won’t be that easy to solve. They have a whole year to make up for, of course, but he’s certain that this is in the right direction. To hell with obligations of tomorrow, or even all of the groceries he knows that they have to go and get when he has her gasping and moaning from his actions— he hasn’t heard her sweet and moaning voice in months. It’s a sweet song that he’ll hold forever in his heart.

“Luka— Luka—” She purrs.

Or tries to, at least, since they’re outside of water and the sound doesn’t travel like it should. Regardless, it’s a rumbly and poetic noise that warms him all over, evidence that the strain in her shoulders is starting to lessen, and evidence that she’s relaxing completely. He almost straddles her, his knees on either side of her tail and careful not to step on her hair, pistoning his fingers in the way he knows will alleviate that curl in her spine.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” He could watch her come undone by him for the rest of his life. “Nothing in the world compares to you.”

Oh, and he knows she loves hearing him say that. Luka knows she’s the happiest when he pays attention to her and goads her with endless amount of praise. None of it is ever lies, or forced— which is probably the reason why she loves it so much.

As if to prove his point, slick squelches out of her as she sighs. She’s taking his two fingers so well, even as it’s a tight fit, even as her body attempts to push him out because his fingers are much bigger than what her body reasonably allows to penetrate her, but still, she’s doing so well— even her scales are shining in the lamplight from the amount of fluid she’s producing, and it makes the pink scales look all the more vibrant. “Sky— oh, please, sky—”

“Just a bit more,” He whispers. “I want to watch you just for a little longer. My darling. My wonderful and absolute darling.”

“Please—” She’s babbling a bit, leaning into his hand he has at her cheek, looking at him with those diamond blue eyes. “Please, Luka, please— oh—”

Oh, he loves it when she begs.

“Come for me?” He nips at her jaw and mouth. He’d bite and lick her at the chest if she had her sea legs, but there’s nothing but smooth scales to mouth over, and it would probably be best not to get any lacerations just because he couldn’t wait for a bit longer. “Be a dearest for me and come for me, little pearl.”

Her tail goes completely rigid when she does.

He feels his fingers get squeezed just as she throws her head back, and catches sight of her earrings starting to glow. He pulls his fingers out just as the magical charms release and stain her skin, and he blinks at the sight of beautiful cream-colored legs wrapped around his hips. Not to mention her pink slit, sticky from his help— he can’t stop himself from going back to her and using his fingertips up and down the sensitive flesh that has her twitching and mewling behind a hand.

“Oh! I— I forgot I’m more sensitive—” She flinches when he comes into contact with her clit. He rolls her flesh between two fingers, enjoying that cute face she makes, before— wait— are her thighs locking because she’s— “Luka— oh stars—”

“Twice back to back, pearl?” His eyes blow wide when she comes back from gasping and crying. “Oh, sweetheart.”

“Oh. I didn’t expect— oh.”

“Sweet Marinette. You’re so perfect, just like usual.” He murmurs as she starts to settle back down, starting to slow her twitching from his fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmm,” She hums instead of answering, and he can’t fault himself for chuckling. “That one is going to cost you.”

“Is it?”

But the sight of her is mouth-watering, so breathtakingly mouth-watering— and he’s halfway to just opening her up again with his fingers and exploring all of her new skin available. After all, the swell of her breasts is so appetizing, her face flushed and glowing as she loses a bit of steam in favor of drowsily blinking up at him— he wants nothing more than to suck bruises onto her porcelain skin and have her continuously cry out.

His own arousal is an afterthought, so long as he can keep her with him looking this beautiful and this dazed.

But the world tilts very much soon after he makes that thought.

“Yes, my lovely sky. My turn— I’ll make sure you to give you two as well.” She smiles, saddling him with a fervor that he should’ve expected by now. The space between her legs is sticky and warm, and he can feel her wetness through his boxers as she sits right where he’s sure is most comfortable for her. Her thighs feel like the perfect weights against his hips, slotting against him like a perfect pair.

Her eyes are brown, now, just as dark and vast as the sea he grew up in before meeting her. Her human eyes are beautiful and nostalgic to his past, and he finds himself captivated by them every time. He loves her in all forms, after all, bond or not— she’s beautiful to him in all versions he’s ever met her, even as he plays with the strands of her slightly shorter hair, relishing in how soft it still is against his fingertips.

“Go easy on me, scary serpent, you know I bruise easily,” He grins at her, palming up the soft flesh of her legs. She shivers at it, still sensitive after just transforming. No doubt her body is still trying to make sense of the sudden change, but she seems to be more in favor of putting all of that on the back burner and focusing on him. She captures his wrist, and kisses softly at his ring when she brings his hand up to her face— he tries his best not to pay attention to how her breasts feel like silk against his arm and elbow.

“Not a chance, my dear.”

AO3 | Chapter One | Chapter Two

#pro lukamari #pro lukanette #fragileizyfic #fragileizylukanette #lukanette endgame

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theunquenchablethirst · 4 years ago

Text

Pit of Vipers Pt4: Al Dente Pop Tarts (Jerome X Reader)

After my parents deaths, I was sold to the circus. Everything seemed bleak and I didn’t understand why. But Jerome Valeska taught me how to survive.

Baby Jerome being a sweetie, comforting and protecting baby reader. Get ready to feel

Masterlist

Jerome took my yellow case and unpacked it. There wasn’t a lot in there, just some odds and ends.

“I’ll get you some new clothes soon. For now, though, you can borrow these.” He took a red t-shirt and some blue shorts out from the bottom of the chest of drawers and tossed them to me.

“Are these yours?” I asked inspecting them.

“They were a few of years ago. They don’t fit me anymore, but they look about your size.”

“Do I have to change now?”

“No, not right now.” Jerome chuckled.

I nodded and hung the clothes on the ladder of the bunk beds.

“Wait here.” He said before creeping out of the room. He came back a few minutes later with a big smile on his face.

“So dollface, you hungry?”

Jerome took me to the little kitchenette and rooted through the cupboard, before producing two packets of pop tarts.

“You want blueberry or chocolate?”

I didn’t answer. I just kept staring at the door to Lilas room, worried she would come out any minute. I was worried about what she’d do if she caught us rummaging around in the kitchen.

“She’s asleep.” Jerome said bringing my attention back to him. “Don’t worry. I checked.”

“What if she wakes up?”

Jerome simply laughed at the suggestion.

“With the amount she drank? No way. She’s out cold ‘till tomorrow afternoon.”

He dropped the pop tarts in the toaster and opened the fridge. He took out a carton of milk and sniffed it, before taking a sip. His face crumpled in disgust and he spit the milk back out into the sink.

“Why is it chewy?” He groaned and dumped the carton into a nearly full black bag that was sitting next to an overflowing bin. I stifled a giggle.

“Yeah, go on. Laugh it up. Soda?” He handed me a Coke, grabbed one for himself and closed the fridge. He cracked his can open and took a swig, washing the taste of sour milk away.

“What’s the matter?” He asked watching me fiddle with my can.

“Tommy says I’m not supposed to have this. He says the sugar rots your teeth.”

“Who’s Tommy?”

“My big brother.”

“Isn’t he the guy that just dumped you here? I heard he got $750 for that.”

“He’ll come back for me. He said so.”

“Right.” Jerome sounded unconvinced.

“He said so...” Tears started to well in my eyes and I looked down at my feet.

“Hey, listen. I don’t know this Tommy guy, but I'm sure he wouldn’t want his baby sister to be crying over him. I definitely wouldn’t.” Jerome wiped my tears with his sleeve and I nodded in agreement.

“And you know since he’s not here, you can have as many Cokes as you want. Besides you’re gonna lose those teeth anyway, so rot on, right?” He smiled and cracked open my soda for me.

Jerome turned back to the pop tarts in the toaster. He hovered his hand over the top feeling the heat.

“Damn this thing.” He said slapping the side. He hovered his hand again, before sighing and taking the pop tarts out.

“Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Looks like we’re eating al dente tonight.” He plated up the uncooked pop tarts and walked to the back of the trailer, me following him. I sat down on the small sofa and Jerome handed me a plate before turning to a small lamp and flicking it on.

“That’s better.” He said.

He then turned to a boxy looking object in the corner that had numerous empty bottles balanced on top of it. It was a TV. He switched the dial until he found some Tom and Jerry cartoons, then came and sat down next to me.

“See. It’s not all bad.” He smiled and put his arm around me, pulling me close to him.

We sat like that munching and giggling at the cartoons for hours. He made me feel safe again, like I was back with Tommy and the time just flew by. Before we knew it, it was already dark outside and raining heavily.

“Looks like a storm’s coming.”

As the weather got worse static soon started to interrupt the cartoons.

“I got it.” Jerome hopped up and went to fiddle with the antenna on top of the TV, standing back every so often to check if it was working. Colour flashed on the TV again and we smiled.

“I think I got it...” However, Jerome was cut off by loud banging at the trailer door.

At first, I thought it was thunder, but then Jerome turned off the TV and the lamp, grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the bedroom closing the door behind us. He got behind the chest of drawers and started pushing it in front of the door.

“What’s going on, Jerome?”

“Just be quiet, ok?”

When the door was blocked, he turned off the light and tucked me into the bottom bunk.

“Jerome?”

He put his finger to his lips and silently shushed me. The banging went on, until we heard Lilas door slam open.

“Alright! Alright! I’m coming!”

We heard Lila open the front door to whoever was banging.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Hello to you too Lila.”

It was a man. We heard the sounds of shuffling in the kitchenette and the clinking of bottles or glasses. There was some mumbling as they spoke and drank and it soon turned into laughter. There was a pause of silence, then more shuffling and then we heard loud moaning sounds. Jerome held me close to his chest and pressed his hands over my ears.

“Jerome? What’s going on?”

“It’ll all be over soon. Just be quiet and close your eyes.”

Then there came loud bumping on the wall. It made me flinch and Jerome held my ears tighter. As much as he tried it did little to dull the noises. We huddled together for what seemed like forever, through the onslaught of moaning, curses and bumping on the wall. Jerome held me close the entire time, bringing the covers over our heads, wrapping his arms around me and always covering my ears. He didn’t let go, even after everything stopped. Not that I wanted him to and I clung to him until I fell asleep.

You couldn’t have separated us with a crowbar that night. Nothing could have.

#Gotham #Jerome Valeska #Jerome x Reader #Emotions

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clownistyping · 4 years ago

Text

A Witch and A Hick

'Meet cute nasty.'

Hi! I'm back kinda? I'm just here to post this lil self insert story of me and Lester Sinclair from House of Wax. He doesn't get enough love and I wanna kiss him so much.

I may change the title, is Lester a Hick????? He can be if you don't think to hard about it. Idk how many chapters this'll be bc its just me writing lol. This also got up to almost 2k words so 😳😳

Also @darling-disastrous here it is uwu

The vans brakes squeal as the girl presses down on them, Elizabeth Mayfield bounced back from the vans push. Her hair covers her face, It's filled with leaves, crystals and hair wraps on single strands.

"Oh shut it Chariot." She grumbles and smacks the steering wheel, putting the van in park as she looks around her surroundings.

Parked in a gas station parking lot, barely anybody around and the moon is high and bright,

"Good night for a reading huh?" She turns to ask the dog in the back of the van. Who raises his head from the mattress in the back, the mutt puts his head back down. Turning on the roof light as she walks,

"Move over, Mac." She grabs the cards from her bag. Pushing past the hanging crystals and dreamcatchers, she sits next to the dog.

She hums and closes her eyes as she shuffles the cards. Letting her mind empty itself, her breathing is in sync with the dogs. Setting the cards in a pile of four, she draws the first card. It tells her what's at hand, seven of cups. She raises a brow,

"Love?" She looks at her dog who sniffs her wrist covered in homemade bracelets, she smiles. Her face heating up,

"Love."

The second card speaks of the past and how it's changed her, six of cups reversed.

"Try to be easy going, I was and I am." She puts the card back in the stack and pulls the 3rd, this will offer her food for thought.

The high priestess shows,

"Act more on feelings than facts. Is what I'm doing not enough?" She gestures to her van, hinting at her traveling lifestyle.

"Is this what you're referencing to?" She lifts the seven of cups and places the two cards down together. Shaking her head she lifts the final card, which tells her a course of action she can take. The chariot arrives in her hand.

"Again, is what I'm doing not enough?" She says out loud,

"I named the van after this card. Come on give me a break." She says to no one but Mac listens.

"Should we go further?" She pets the mutt who leans into her hand,

"Maybe somewhere, where nobody will bother us." She mumbles and lays on the mattress,

"Maybe I can be a forest witch," she mumbles and closes her eyes, letting sleep take over.

Lester spits on the ground, he looks up at the bright moon as it shines through the woods. The music plays gently in the background,

He hums along with the tune of 'season of the witch.' And pats his thighs to the rhythm,

"Purdy night ain't it, Jonesy?" He asks the dog that sits on the back of the truck with him. She licks his face and he laughs.

The sun peeks through the back doors, waking the girl in the van. She hums and sits up, Mac is standing in front of her ready to go.

"Good idea." She says and takes him out to use the bathroom. When she puts Mac back in the van she tries to figure out where she is exactly.

She knows she's landed herself in Louisiana, but most of the state looks the same. So she heads in the gas station, In the traffic mirror hanging above the entrance she gets a glimpse of herself.

Elizabeth wears a long black slitted skirt, both sides are cut and her legs show when she walks. Her tank is wrinkled and her shawl is tempted to fall from her shoulders, she fixes it quickly and holds her side bag close.

"Can I help you?" The cashier, an older woman asks and Elizabeth blinks. Back in reality, she nods.

"Actually yes, two things. Where am I?" She asks and the woman points to the pamphlets nearby,

"Smallwood. Okay, and uh can I use your bathroom?"

"Gotta buy something first." The woman huffs and Elizabeth quickly searches for some travel food and drinks,

Her only source of income is tarot reading strangers and selling the jewelry she makes. Not a lot but enough if you make the prices almost criminal.

Grabbing some powdered donuts, quickly she pays for them and runs to the bathroom. Quickly she fixes herself up, putting on dark eyeliner only to smudge it and swiping on dark lip gloss. She smiles at her dark makeup, it simply makes her happy. Stepping out the bathroom quietly, in hopes of not gaining any attention she tries to leave silently.

But her eyes catch a drink, staring at the energy drink from the fridge. She looks up at the cashier who's glaring at her.

In a flash Elizabeth quickly snatches the drink and runs from the building, Mac barks from in the van and the woman hollers.

"Get back here you freak!" The cashier screams and Elizabeth laughs as she runs. The needed adrenaline pumping through her, slamming the van open she gets in.

Grabbing her keys, the van sputters and spits.

"Come on, Chariot! Come on!" Elizabeth yells as she turns the key, the van rumbles as the cashier starts to run towards it.

"Lets go!" Elizabeth yells as the van roars to life, slamming on the gas Mac is pushed back on the mattress and quickly the van escapes the parking lot with the screaming of its tires.

Elizabeth doesn't slow the van until she reaches a wooded area, trees tower over the colorful van as it fails to blend in. But they're miles from the gas station and coming down from the high speed.

"Cheers." Elizabeth raises the energy drink and Mac licks it, she laughs and opens it.

The drink sprays all over the girls face immediately upon opening. She spits out the blueberry flavor and Mac licks her face all over, laughing she pushes the dog back.

"I get it! That was well deserved karma!" She yells yells the universe,

Suddenly the van spits and sputters.

"Oh no." She whispers and the engine cuts itself off.

"No! Baby please!" She hollers and slams on the steering wheel,

"Is this my karma?" She whispers and leans into her sticky seat,

"I regret nothing." She says and sips her drink, Mac pants next to her. He breathes a disgusting smell.

The two sit as the girl finishes her drink, she cringes as the sticky feeling on her face.

"I can handle a lot of things," she starts, looking at Mac and then the bones she collects all scattered in the van.

"But I can't handle a facial." She laughs and gets out of the van, Mac jumps out with her and sniffs the new ground. Elizabeth grabs the water from the back she runs it over her face, washing away the substance. Once the feeling of soda was gone Elizabeth checks her face in the side mirror.

Her eyeliner was running, she shrugs.

"Tell me, Mac. How do I look?" She turns, expecting her dog.

"Mac?" She says and looks around, the dog stands in the distance. His head raised as he sniffs the area, Elizabeth cups her mouth and yells.

"Hey, Get back here!" Mac looks at her and quickly sprints away towards the scent.

Elizabeth groans and quickly runs after the speeding dog. But he's quickly lost in the weeds of Louisiana.

"Mac!" She calls out and hears no response, but a rotting smell hits her. She doesn't flinch, after willingly tearing through dead animals for a good bone. She's numb to the smell.

And now she knows where that damn dog is headed.

Stomping her way through the thickets, she tries to keep calm her fingers absent-mindedly fidgeting with her silver coin necklace.

"Well hey there buddy, where you come from?" Elizabeth hears a voice say and she follows it.

"Alright load up!" Lester says and opens the passenger door of the truck, Jonesy quickly hopes in the truck and sits down. Ready to ride. In the back is another deer carcass, along with a vulture he accidentally hit. Lester taps his hands against the wheel as the music plays, Johnny Cash sings Ring of Fire on the radio, the chorus sings and Lester joins.

"And it burns, burns burns! The ring of fire!" Lester sings off key and Jonesey howls with him.

"If I could, I'd be in a band, Jonesy." The dog licks Lester's face and he laughs,

"Ah you're right, my ugly mug don't belong on no stage. I'm happy right here." He kisses the dogs head and she barks.

Lester drives down the bumpy pathway that leads him to the roadkill pit, he always checks to see if any strays show. His heart is soft for animals without a home, he likes to gain their trust. Make them feel safe while also being independent.

"Think we'll find anything?" Lester asks and backs the truck up to face the pit. As the two leave the truck, Lester hears movement from the hole. Turning towards it he smiles when he sees a collared dog sniffing around the carcasses.

"Well hey there buddy, where you come from?"

The dog looks up, his mouth full of the meat.

"Oh come on you don't wanna be eating that old meat." Lester pats his thighs,

"I got some good eatin at my place if you wanna come with." Lester smiles and the dog stumbles his way through the pile, Jonesey sniffs the mutts face and licks it clean, the new dog pounces and the two quickly engage in play.

"Well ain't that sweet, already made a friend huh, Jonesy?"

Lester says, he lets the two play and opens the back of his truck. Tossing out the carcasses, he then opens the passenger door.

"Alright you two, let's get going!" Lester pats the door and Jonesy was quick to jump in.

The new dog stood in place and sat,

"Oh come on boy, don't be shy." Lester whistles,

"HEY!" Lester looks up, above the cliff he heard the voice.

"THAT'S MY DOG!" The person yells and Lester sees the stranger, the said dog barks at the voice.

A girl wearing dark flowy clothes, her face covered in runny makeup.

"Hey, watch out!" Lester calls out and suddenly the girl fell off the cliff.

#my writing #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #canon x oc #oc x canon #self ship #self insert

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monstcrmade · 4 years ago

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@lexpxrdus || For Booker

They say that curiosity killed the cat, well, fortunately for Yvonne she couldn’t die and she trusted Booker’s trigger discipline anyway—not that she had any reason to. She didn’t know Sebastien Le Livre outside of the things she’d heard. Such as his betrayal.

The Frenchman had been banished from the family of immortals shortly before her fathers had found her. Apparently he had shown up once when she was a child but she was too young to remember that much like how she had been too young to remember Andy and Nile and Quynh when she had met them the first time. Probably didn’t help it was when she had been kidnapped, something she couldn’t recall at all and only knew of because of her fathers telling her it had happened at all.

But still, she wished to get to know him. Eventually he’d be welcomed back into the fold. And though he was not with them now, he was still family. Always had been, always would be.

She’d told the others she wanted to take a small, private vacation in Austria and would meet up with her fathers in Italy two weeks from now. That gave her ample time to find and become acquainted with the exiled man.

She managed to track him down to some little apartment in France but by the time she arrived, picked the lock, and stepped into his home, he was nowhere to be seen. Yvonne had heard of Booker’s alcohol dependence and she imagined he was depending on it right now.

Yvonne didn’t judge him. People handled certain things differently than others and she imagined the excommunication didn’t help his mental state. Maybe some company would help lift his spirits a little.

His apartment wasn’t dirty but there was some chaos to it all. She spent her time waiting tidying up, watering wilting indoor plants, and clearing out the fridge and cupboards of anything and everything that was expired or rotted.

What food stuffs she could find that were edible, she gathered up. Cooking had been something she’d learned from both her parents and Yvonne quite enjoyed it. She was somewhat of a mix of both Nicky and Joe; and a big part of Nicky that shone through was how she liked to cook for others.

By the time the door of the apartment creaked open, she had just finished plating the food and putting it upon the table. Scrambled eggs, bacon, oatmeal with honey and blueberries, plain toast, and black coffee. There had been a surprising number of foods that were still safe for consumption that she could use.

“Bonjour, Booker,” she greeted, carefully folding up the apron she’d managed to find buried under a stack of hand towels in a drawer by the sink. “I hope you don’t mind I made you food. It’s good to eat after drinking.”

And then she pauses and realizes she greeted him like some old friend and not some strange woman who had essentially just broken into his apartment. There was no way he would recognize her now as a twenty-six year old woman.

“Yvonne,” she says. “Genovese. Nicky and Joe’s daughter. It’s nice to finally meet you. Y’know...officially.”

Yvonne gives him a thousand watt smile.

#lexpxrdus #v;tbd #;threads (yvonne)

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misscrazyfangirl321 · 4 years ago

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OC-Tober Day 19: Fruit

OC: Nadine Griffin

Fandom: Grimm

Pairings: Hank/Nadine

Warnings: Honestly, just copious amounts of tooth-rotting fluff.

@oc-growth-and-development

There’s something so novel about this, she muses. About fixing her hair up and overthinking which sweater she should wear for a date with a man when has seen her at her absolute worst. The first date was nice, of course, but it was testing the waters. This picnic today? It’s her first proper date with her husband.

(Ex-husband, she reminds herself. She’s quickly growing to hate that prefix. And while she knows they shouldn’t rush things-shouldn’t remarry right away, should get to know each other properly as Wesen and Kehrseite-part of her just wants to throw caution to the wind and run to the nearest courthouse before it’s too late.)

He’s supposed to be surprising her, but he’s borrowing Monroe’s picnic basket, and he forgot to mention to poor Monroe that she didn’t know it was a picnic. That’s fine; she can act surprised when he shows up.

Making her way to the kitchen, she hesitates. He’s putting everything together, after all. He’s surprising her. But something inside her begs her to surprise him, too.

Thankfully, her fridge is more than stocked. She gathers up bananas, apples, grapes, blueberries, and strawberries, and sets to work, chopping and mixing. Her fruit salad has always been a favorite of his, and she can count on one hand the number of times she’s made it for him since the divorce. Maybe because his blissful expression makes her want to kiss him whenever she does.

Now, she may be making it for the exact same reason, but that’s neither here nor there.

Time flies by, and soon she’s tasting the fruit salad (just to make sure it’s good), ladling it into a large tupperware bowl (only one; they’ll just have to share), and imagining his expression when he sees it.

The doorbell rings, and she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, straightens her sweater, and tries to make it look like she’s not remotely nervous as she makes her way to the door.

He’s holding a charming bouquet of flowers, and that lovely picnic basket, eyes full of all the nerves she feels, and she cannot help but smile.

“Thank you.” She takes the flowers, leading him inside, and grabs a vase from the kitchen. The fruit salad is out of his line of sight, obscured by a tissue box, as he sticks close to her side. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah. Beautiful.”

She doesn’t have to look back to know that he isn’t looking at the flowers. Time was, she would have rolled her eyes at his unapologetic cheesiness, even as she secretly loved it, but now, she can only smile to herself.

Flowers secured, she turns back to face him. Then, just because she can, because it’s finally allowed again, because she has missed him, and because he made her a picnic and brought her flowers and he’s trying, she kisses him. He melts into the contact, setting the basket aside to cup the back of her head, the other resting at her waist. And it’s supposed to be just a brief contact, but it feels so right. He feels like home. Seconds fade to minutes as they hold each other close, trading slow kisses.

Finally, she pulls back, and he blinks a few times, adorably struggling to get his bearings.

“You’ve been eating fruit salad,” he manages finally, and she cannot help it; she giggles.

“Yeah, I made some. That is, if you want-”

“Are you kidding me?” He clears his throat, sounding a little more normal when he replies, “That stuff is delicious. I can’t believe you never gave me the recipe.”

“Then what would you need me for?” She asks, and it’s supposed to be a joke, but the implication seems to hit him all at once: that even when she was trying her hardest to push him away, a part of her was still holding on.

He kisses her again, quick but fierce, and she thinks again of just taking him to the courthouse now. There’s no way either of them are walking away ever again.

Still, though. They agreed to take this slow for a reason. So she steps back firmly, flashing him a smile. “We have a picnic to get to.”

A suspicious quirk of his brow. “How’d you know we were going on a picnic?”

Oops. Thinking quickly, she replies, “Well, I assume the basket isn’t for an Easter Egg hunt.”

But of course, he isn’t a detective for nothing. “And you already have fruit salad all fixed up. And those are your casual jeans.” Shaking his head, he concludes, “You knew. What, did Monroe tell you?”

Well, she tried. “I plead the fifth.”

“That’s… Not actually how the Fifth Amendment works. You know that, right?”

Sometimes, he’s such a cop. She huffs. “Come on. Let’s go. Unless you’ve changed your mind about the fruit salad.”

Again, he goes surprisingly serious. “I’m never going to change my mind,” he promises. “Ever.”

(She doesn’t suggest going to the courthouse, but it’s a close thing, and she has a feeling they’re going to get there sooner, rather than later.)

#oc-tober #nadine griffin #hank griffin #grimm #my fics #my writing #my works #mine #6it

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whitewolfbumble · 7 years ago

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The Fallout - Prologue (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You had been a ghost for years, taking down the bad guys from the shadows that had once enslaved you. That is until the Avengers finally caught up with you and yet again your life changed. But your past won’t stay dead and everything starts to shift when a familiar face joins the ranks: Bucky Barnes. He may not remember you, but you certainly remember him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Talk of nightmares and (minimally) human experiments, some fighting (ala Civil War), tiny bit of language.

Word Count: About 3k

A/N: Hello my precious blueberries. Welcome to the prologue before the start of The Fallout! You can skip to Part One if you so choose really, this sets up where in the MCU timeline we are, along with you backstory, and the first meeting with you & Bucky. I haven’t written anything in forever so please let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged!! A reblog, like, or message would mean so much!

MY MASTERLIST // THE FALLOUT MASTERLIST

They had found you some time ago. To be specific about it, Steve had found you some time ago. It felt like another lifetime to you now. But you tried not to keep track of the amount of lifetimes you felt you’d lived.

Back in those days the Avengers would catch wind of something about to go down, but time and time again you would beat them to the punch, as it were.

They would show up just as you left, expecting to find an enemy to take down or situation to get under control. But they would instead discover a group of enemies roped together (usually unconscious and somewhat undamaged) and the day saved. You had tried to put the killing behind you… as much as the gangs and groups you tracked down would allow.

The Team would show up and you would vanish, leaving only the whispers of any onlookers who caught a glimpse of you. Tearing apart buildings and bodies was never much of a public activity of yours, but whispers followed your wake nonetheless.

There weren’t any civilian casualties to your missions so you were never high on any official watch list. Just a ghost that went from city to city, popping up in one country then the next, somehow knowing where the trouble would be. Often just before the Avengers knew it and always just enough time to get it done yourself before they flew in.

It was a game you had played for quite a while.

But Steve knew what this looked like. He understood who could train someone to do this, with the stealth, boldness, and efficiency like you did. He had said as much when he finally caught you.

“How long were you with them?”

There was no real condemnation in his voice surprisingly, but understandingly. It was the first time you had met the infamous boy scout face to face. You figured he would be a self-righteous prick but, like all that met him, that notion was quickly dispelled.

You had wanted to distrust him more than you inherently did, like you did everyone. Even when you lined up side-by-side the destruction and bloodshed you had caused lately versus the kind yet firm voice of Steve Rogers, something didn’t add up. There was another variable that made him a little softer than expected, you just didn’t know what yet.

“You would’ve read my file. Guess,” you said, not exactly unkind.

Maybe it was a combination of his kind eyes and voice that prompted your invitation for him to pry deeper. Why ever you said that to him, you didn’t know. You decided in a moment that you didn’t want a gentle man like him to look too far into your past after all.

He thought briefly nodding slightly as he took your advice and began to take a crack at it. “Not all of them had pictures–”

“You’re right. The worst of their experiments didn’t.”

You figured out later what it meant for Steve to find you. You were a step to something greater. You didn’t take offense to it, on the contrary; you joined in, firm and resolute when he told you why you were so important. And after years that would hopefully be coming to fruition today.

“Keep sharp, they’re not going to be far behind,” said the voice in your earpiece.

“Understood,” you whispered back. A heavy slam followed your words.

Entering the small apartment with a heavy kick to the wood door, you didn’t stop to look around or search for anyone. The only movement was the cloud of dust brushing up around you when the door hit the wall. You knew no one would be here, your recon earlier proving this specific unit was abandoned.

Special forces weren’t going to be exactly gentle in this situation but they would be a lot slower than you. You also needed to be a lot more subtle than them too.

Subtle being relative, you noted as you kicked in the back door, a gust of cool air flooding you and the stale space.

The musty little apartment you were in had been abandoned like most in the decrepit building, offering a perfecting “jumping off poing” as it were.

This place was perfect for someone lying low, you noted, appreciating how smart a move this was for the man you were after.

“I’m about to enter the apartment, I’ll confirm once I’m in,” you said, hushed. “Or you’ll hear a big metal fist hitting my face and the cracking bones will tell you.”

“Please,” Sam started, flying somewhere above you as you gauged the balcony one floor below you and one to the left. “Like he could possibly get a shot at you, even if he was in there. And that would mean you were wrong about him being gone. For the record, also not happening. I’d stake my wings on it.”

“Yeah, except that is exactly how you would want your apartment to appear if you were actually there,” you said, looping and securing your grappling device onto the railing then to the back of your belt.

You slipped on your gloves: jagged metal on your knuckles but a gripping ribbed plastic on the fingers and palms.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” Steve said on the comm line, somewhere below you. You pulled yourself up on the railing crouching and keeping low, steadying yourself in the slight wind. The fourteen stories between you and ground didn’t factor into your mind at all, eyes and mind focused. “We’re here as back up. This is only recon. We only need confirmation for now.“

“Is that how you stayed alive all these years?” Sam questioned, ignoring Steve. “Paranoia dialed up?”

You still stayed fixed on the balcony you intended to leap too, muscles tensing as you readied yourself.

“Probably,” you said before throwing yourself off of the ledge.

A rush of cold wind whipped your face and whizzed in your ears, the sudden feeling of falling fast lurching your stomach into your throat. Arms out, you grasped on to the metal railing of the intended balcony with a bone-jarring thud and used your soaring momentum to throw your body head first over it, flipping in one smooth motion and rolling to your feet. You ended up in a crouched position on the balcony floor, with the feeling of your stomach now at your feet before it snapped back in place.

Immediately you pressed yourself to the side of the balcony, flush against the cold, rough brick. Silently you pulled your gun out and stood up, unlatching the safety line from your belt. Looking through the small back door window into the apartment you saw the curtains somewhat drawn, leaving the interior dimly lit with a soft orange glow.

Exactly how you would have left it.

Getting in wasn’t a problem- most places couldn’t keep you out no matter how hard they tried- and certainly not a 50-year-old rusty porch door in Bucharest.

Whisper quiet you walked in, measured footsteps grounded and stable like you were waiting for a shadow to leap out and kick your legs out from under you at any moment.

You weren’t nervous, not really, it was more habit than anything. Or maybe experience was a better word for it. People dropping out of the shadows to try and kill you was all too habitual for you. Or it used to be anyways. But old habits die hard.

You made quick work of the tiny interior. Nothing in any rooms, no one to be found. ”I’m in. All clear.”

The dark apartment was dingy and homey. Soft light bleared through the old tattered curtains, lighting up small patches of the equally old space in a dusty haze. A mismatch of outdated paint and yellowed wallpaper lined the creaky, cramped apartment. Everything was basic and old and used. Little food, no real clothes, a tattered blanket on a threadbare mattress. It was lived in, with the worn look of memories rotting every inch of it.

You immediately liked it, in a sad kind of way. This would be a place you would pick too. A place you felt you deserved. Dated and forgotten.

You made your way back the door again to start your search and stopped in the kitchen first. Your mission was not to find the owner necessarily, but to confirm the intel was correct that this was his place.

You picked up a small brown notebook off of the top of the low fridge. Carefully you turned it over before gently opening the pages. Small cramped writing was within, sometimes long continuous blocks of words filled page upon page, sometimes short little pieces only a couple lines each were here and there. Small little coloured stickers stuck to some of the pages, obviously there to keep track of something of significance. You turned to a red one, part way through the book.

“…Coney Island Cyclone six times. We got sick but were laughing right after for some reason. The girls had left us after the third time around…”

Memories, you thought to yourself. This was a book of memories.

“Y/N?” Steve said while you kept reading.

“The intel was right, this is his place,” you said in a whisper.

“Confirmed?”

“Confirmed,” you said, holding the open notebook in your hand. “I’m going to need a few minutes.”

“For what? We don’t have long. If it’s his place he’ll be close and we have to find him before the German Special Forces are on his trail.”

You turned over a few more pages, fingers and eyes trailing down the small little words.

“Then you should go,” you whispered. “I need to follow up with a few things here.”

“Y/N, you’re our best way of tracking him, I need—”

“I haven’t… secured the area,” you said, not really any truth to that. “I need to make sure there aren’t any… traps for unwanted visitors. Particularly if the police decide to knock on the door.”

You shrugged to no one, making up some excuse to stay put. You knew he would be back, and you knew this whole mission wouldn’t work if the team overwhelmed him.

“Alright,” Steve agreed after a moment. “Sam will keep an eye above. Y/N, update me immediately if anything happens.”

You nodded in acknowledgment.

“Y/N?”

“Yes, agreed,” you sighed slightly. Somethings go without saying, just not on this team.

You continued to stay motionless in the kitchen, reading the little booklet that was left behind. You knew he would come back for it. This was precious. You only write down memories for a limited number of reasons. He wouldn’t leave this unattended long.

You didn’t tell Steve your gut instinct about this as you didn’t want to get his hopes up. Really, very few of the possible outcomes you could think of actually ended well. So you waited alone.

“… stabbed in the side, throat crushed. There were two witnesses, his wife and their child, and I shot both in…”

“… injections in both thighs with a deep green liquid, making me convulse uncontrollably. Searing pain began from my hips to my feet. I begged them to cut off my legs but they didn’t respond. They never did. The pain didn’t stop until after the sun when down…”

“… train car alone, cargo carrying boxes of cheap plastic toys. It was dark and freezing and traveling somewhere in the woods…”

“…. and I couldn’t control it. I resisted until I blacked out but they tried again and I wasn’t able to stop it…”

Your back had been to the front door the whole time, but you didn’t need any indication that he was there. He made no sound, and nor did you. He would’ve known you were in the apartment before he entered, just as you knew when he came in and stood behind you now.

“Head’s up, Y/N, German Special Forces approaching from the south,” came Sam’s voice.

You paused, debating on responding and interrupting the silence that now hung heavy and thick in the air.

“Understood,” you said quietly, placing the notebook back on the fridge and turned around slowly.

He stood there in front of you, your mind snapping his face into the memories you had of him. Those memories were old and worn and blurred. They still stung you white hot in your dreams sometimes, but the faces in those memories had faded over the years.

The sudden wave of remembrance bound you in like a vice, twisting and weaving pain into your muscles, sinking deeper and deeper. It was like for a brief moment you were back there, reliving them from the beginning. For a second there was such clarity to those memories that you haven’t had in decades.

But you looked beyond his face to his eyes, and the murky twisted face that usually filled your unconsciousness shifted back into its usual place, before the image of the nightmares faded from your mind completely.

His eyes were different than what you remembered. Vastly different from what you had seen all those years ago.

Deep and blue and searching your own eyes for something, he looked at you. In them there was no threat. He held your stare with his own, guarded and with a muted desperation of trying to place you.

He didn’t remember you.

Your blurry memories had come flooding back in a second, but his had not. You weren’t a painful memory behind his eyes or written in his little brown notebook. He didn’t remember.

For some reason, you instantly felt lighter at that. The pain of your shared experiences would have weighed heavily on you both and you had been bracing yourself for it. You were relieved that it never came.

You immediately took him in, wondering about the next move. You knew yours wouldn’t be violent if you could help it. He was breathing fast, but body looked to be relaxed enough for the situation. He stood wearing a simple cap, red shirt, and brown coat. No weapon, no clenched fists, not even in a posed position ready to leap into violence. He was oddly still, obviously fighting the desire to kick into fight or flight.

He probably didn’t know why either. But you did.

“Do you know me?” you asked simply, your voice smooth and low.

His breath was still quick, you could practically smell his adrenalin mixed with that telltale super soldier heat.

“No, I don’t,” His voice was deep and growly, but it wasn’t completely sure. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“They’ve set the perimeter,” came Sam’s distant voice in your earpiece again.

“I know you’re nervous,” you said taking a small step forward. “And you have plenty of reason to be… But you know that’s not true, Bucky.”

Regardless of whether or not Bucky remembered you from his past, you were an Avenger… of sorts (or that’s at least how you thought of it).

You weren’t shiny, or in the spotlight, or a poster child of good deeds. To the public you were quiet and dark and kept back, hood covering you up and eyes always down. Generally the populous didn’t bother you much as most were too afraid of you anyway. All for good reason.

Maybe he could ignore any semblance of memory, but not when you were face to face here. He knew from the media that you were Hydra, twisted and broken like he had been by them, and that you had escaped their death grip on your body and mind.

At any rate, he would know from the TV coverage what brought you here and could guess your allegiance.

“I wasn’t in Vienna, I don’t do that anymore,” He shook his head once, slightly, body getting tenser by the minute.

“They’re entering the building,” Sam buzzed.

“Well, the people who think you did are coming here now,” Another step closer, your voice a kind warning. “And they’re not planning on taking you alive.”

He nodded, understanding. Defeat was behind his eyes. And you didn’t think it was for his impending fate, but the souls that were going to try and take him down. A pang of understanding hit you.

“Smart,” he said, shifting. “Good strategy.”

Right on cue came Sam’s next warning was followed by footsteps coming from the ceiling above you. Both of your eyes broke apart from each other and shot upward for a moment.

“They’re on the roof, I’m compromised.”

Bucky turned to the right and walked towards the other side of the room, his fist now clenched and breath sighing.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Bucky.”

He sighed and you could see the defeat in him rolling through his body, uncoiling and recoiling his now posed muscles.

“It always does.”

“Thirty seconds, Y/N.”

Shit. You needed more time. Your goal had been to get here and convince him he could have a life. Build new memories. And not do it alone. You weren’t convinced of your resolve until you saw him. The real him. Not the one you had known or the one they had made him be.

“You don’t want to live like this anymore, do you?” you asked quickly, needing to at least try and reach him before this all went to hell. “You could have gone back to them, but you didn’t. If you still want to fight than why are you here?”

He looked up, pained and guarded. “I don’t know.”

You all but closed the distance between the both of you, walking within his metal arms’ reach.

“Because you don’t want this anymore!” you implored. “I got out Bucky, I did. You know you can too. You can return to who you were. It’s possible, I’m proof of that.”

And then everything went to shit.

One grenade crashed through the small kitchen window and immediately your emotions shut down and you kicked it into high gear.

In a split second you slid back over the small kitchen bar and reached to grab frying pan off of the stove. You swooped down to scoop the grenade back out the window when another came through the window next to Bucky.

He reached down, grabbed it, and threw it at you as you swung around, knocking it back out the window with the frying pan. But just barely.

“Really? C’mon,” you said. Such a dick move.

Hearing yelling from outside and figuring you probably couldn’t reel in an ex-Hydra super soldier alone, plus fight the full force of the German Special Forces team, all while simultaneously not managing to kill either party.

Killing them would’ve been quick and easy. But this you had your doubts at.

“Steve, I have an update!” you shouted, as Bucky one-handedly threw the dining room table down the hall, blocking both the door and the soldiers looking to get in.

But two soldiers crashed through the windows and you both simultaneously punched them out in one hard blow to the face. He might have a metal arm, but you came prepared with your own brass knuckle gloves.

The jagged metal met the face of the nearest soldier and you fought your instincts to both keep fighting him and keep fighting everyone else until they all stayed down.

You didn’t need to shout commands or tell Bucky what you were doing, you knew you both would be thinking of the same thing. Call it your shared Hydra upbringing.

You wretched open the back door just in time for the solider to come in gun first. You grabbed it hard and pulled, sending him careening forward until Bucky’s appeared beside you, his fist slamming into the soldier’s chest and sent him flying back two feet in the air and almost right off the balcony’s edge.

You reached out and grabbed Bucky, eyes wide. Did he have any control in a fight? You couldn’t remember exactly when you came out of it, but even with some shared experiences and similar reflexes, you were still decidedly not the same people.

“Bucky, stop! You’re going to kill someone!” Pot calling the kettle black right there, but whatever.

“Y/N, I’ve engaged! Working my way up to you,” Shots and grunts sounded in the background of Steve’s voice.

Bucky whirled around with a metal arm crashing into your chest and slamming you down to the ground hard. For a moment his body was poised above you, his own chest heaving against yours. Again he brought his metal arm up and fist clenched he drove it down into the floor, just an inch away from your face.

“I’m not going to kill anyone,” He reached into the newly made hole in the floor, pulled out a bag and threw it clean out of the apartment to the building across the street.

And from the look in his eyes, you believed him. His eyes were endlessly deep and pained. But the pain wasn’t for himself.

Maybe he did have control.

“Alright,” you nodded, agreeing with him, just as Steve crashed in and the next wave hit the three of you full force.

PART ONE

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