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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

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Father of Mine – 2/2

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: With the tragic passing of her mother, Y/N learns to the truth of who her father is.

Word Count: 4,100+

Warnings: absent father, subtle violence, mention of family death

A/N: The reader is described as tall in this fic. Bruce Wayne is 6′2 and I’m tall, so I’m indulging myself with no apologies. Read it or don’t.

Part 1

Bruce was working in the cave when Alfred interrupted him.

“Master Wayne, a guest has arrived unexpectedly.”

Bruce gave him a strange look. Hardly anyone showed up to the manor unannounced.

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Alfred added.

“Right,” Bruce sighed.

“She’s waiting for you in your office.”

Bruce found Y/N pacing in the room, refusing to take the seat that he was sure Alfred offered her.

“Y/N,” he greeted, remembering how she disliked the formalities last night.

She whipped around at his greeting. “Am I your charity case now?”

He feigned confusion. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She looked offended by his lie. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You paid all of my outstanding expenses that my mother left me.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“Don’t try to lie to me,” she warned.

Bruce closed his mouth.

“Look, I don’t need your help,” Y/N sighed in obvious irritation. “Did you or did you not pay them?”

He took in a shallow breath, “I did.”

Y/N clenched her jaw as Bruce finally admitted his deed.

“I was only trying to help.”

“You can’t just throw money at me and expect it to make up for being a no-show.”

Bruce tensed.

Did that mean…Did she know?

“You read the letter?” He asked.

“No,” she clarified. “But I figured it out.”

“I had no idea,” he tried to tell her.

“I don’t care,” she almost snorted.

“You have ever right to be angry with me…”

“I’m not angry. I’m annoyed.”

She took a defiant step toward him and crossed her arms.

The heeled boots she had on caused her already tall height to make her be eye to eye with Bruce.

How many people had faced off with Batman and cowered with fear?

But she didn’t submit or show any signs of intimidation.

“Do you think I cried myself to sleep every night as a child, wondering where my dad was or why he didn’t want me?” Y/N hissed.

Bruce didn’t respond.

“You think I give a fuck about the father-daughter dances? Or whatever the hell people think dads are only capable of doing?” She narrowed her eyes. “The thing is…I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you then and I don’t need you now.”

Bruce felt sick as he listened to her.

“I have the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t have been there for those anyway,” she added roughly. “My mom loved me more than enough. I didn’t need anyone else. And she made damn sure of that.”

“So I’m not your charity case to make yourself feel better after my mom made it clear she thought it was better to keep me from you, than to ever tell you that I existed. Says a lot about what kind of person she thought you are, huh?”

When Y/N finally stopped, she was taking deep breaths.

Bruce wondered how long she had that all bottled up. He didn’t think anything she said was a lie. Y/N didn’t need him. That had become clear.

She had grown up to be a successful, intelligent, and independent young woman.

And she got that way without a father figure of any sort.

After a few moments, Bruce finally bowed his head and cleared his throat. “I never intended on making you feel like a charity case.”

Bruce saw as Y/N took in a deep breath and the guilt slowly took over her expression.

“Look,” Y/N sighed, “we finally know the truth. Let’s just…let’s just move on with our lives. OK?”

Bruce couldn’t deny that the suggestion hurt.

After processing the news over the past week or so, he realized he wanted to get to know her. This wasn’t the first time a child of his had been dropped on him far too late. He had failed Damian in so many ways because of it.

But Y/N was a young woman, fully developed and independent now. And Bruce couldn’t help but wonder that him being absent from her childhood had only benefitted her.

“If that’s what you want,” he finally told her.

Y/N didn’t know him well enough to hear the underlying pain in his words.

So she simply nodded and walked past him, having nothing more to say.

——————

Bruce adjusted his tie. He wanted nothing more than to rip it off his neck.

But he was on his best behavior tonight.

This year, the Gotham Gazette was given the honor of hosting the Pulitzer Prizes. And since Bruce and Wayne Enterprises donated quite a large sum of money to the Gotham Gazette, they felt inclined to invite him.

Bruce had every intention of skipping, until he found out that Lois Lane was receiving an award and Clark would also be attending.

He figured the least he could do was congratulate her and say hi to both of them.

That’s why he was trying to find them as soon as possible so he could and get the hell out of there.

Bruce finally spotted Clark talking to a woman whose back was to him. All he saw of her was the black dress and y/h/c hair.

He made his way over.

Clark noticed him when he was a few feet away.

“I see you’ve finally left your cave,” he teased with a lift of his brow. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show.”

But when the woman Clark was speaking to turned to look at him, Bruce swore he felt his heart stop.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, clearly just as surprised at seeing Bruce.

None of this went missed by Clark. “Oh, do you two know each other?”

Bruce didn’t know how to respond. What would Y/N want?

So he hesitated.

“I shot him for a cover once,” Y/N answered quickly.

She was a shockingly smooth liar.

Maybe she got that from Bruce, too.

But she didn’t realize that Clark could hear her heart rate quicken, catching the fib.

“And how exactly do you two know each other?” Bruce asked, recovering quickly.

“Y/N works with Lois a lot,” Clark answered. “She basically refuses to work with any other photographer.”

Y/N managed to force a smile.

“I should actually go find her and say my congrats,” she answered.

“And I need to hunt down a drink,” she mumbled.

Both men caught it.

Clark was rather taken aback by how she fled.

The Y/N he knew was always charming and kind, usually life of the party. He’d never seen her dodge a conversation in such a way before.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Clark gave a intimidating glare to Bruce.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” He asked Bruce.

But Bruce only clenched his jaw.

“Past fling?” Clark asked with a somewhat disappointed tilt of his head.

“No. Nothing like that,” Bruce quickly corrected.

Not only did the idea make him feel sick. But if rumors started of the two of them being romantically linked, Bruce knew it would only make Y/N hate him more than she clearly already did.

Thankfully, Clark took his denial seriously.

“She’s not my biggest fan,” Bruce added darkly.

“Y/N is a good friend,” Clark told him – almost in warning. “Lois and her have become rather close over the years.”

Then Clark smirked. “She does know how to hold a grudge though. And she’ll make your life hell...if you deserve it.”

Bruce’s brain hurt as he realized how easily Y/N and his path’s could’ve crossed. She had been friends with Clark and Lois this whole time?

“I’m happy for her,” Clark added.

“Happy for her?”

Clark looked at Bruce as if it was obvious. “She’s being awarded tonight, too.”

How could Bruce not have realized? Why didn’t he think of looking at the list of people being awarded tonight? He’d been dreading attending so much that he didn’t even consider it.

“Bruce?” Clark asked with concern.

“Hmm?” He was not one to hum or mumble.

“You alright?”

Bruce didn’t have a lot of friends.

But Clark Kent was one of them. And him and Diana had noticed how Bruce was acting off for weeks now. Bruce was notorious for remaining stoic and giving nothing for people to try and guess what he was thinking or feeling. But they both knew it was something different.

Someone over Bruce’s shoulder suddenly waved Clark over.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Clark told Bruce politely.

Bruce’s first instinct was to leave now that he knew Y/N was also in attendance.

But he knew he couldn’t act so cowardly.

Was he really that scared of his own daughter?

His eyes glanced around the room looking for her.

He spotted Y/N at one of the bars.

Either her conversation with Lois had been quick, or she simply used that as an excuse to get away from Bruce.

Bruce walked up beside Y/N at the bar.

He knew she felt his arrival by the way her body tensed.

“Had I known you would be here I would not have attended,” he told her while looking straight ahead.

Y/N ignored his apology. “How do you know Clark?”

“He’s a friend,” Bruce answered casually.

Then he allowed himself to take a sideways glance at her.

Her jaw was clenched.

He wondered what thoughts she was holding back.

Y/N really did remind him of her mother.

When they were together, Bruce was convinced she was the prettiest girl in the world. He wondered if Y/N had found someone in her life who told her the same.

“Congratulations on being honored tonight,” Bruce offered sincerely.

“Thank you,” she answered shortly.

A beat passed between them.

Bruce was about to give up and leave her be.

“Does Clark think I’m one of your one-night stands now?”

Y/N might not know Bruce well, but everyone was familiar with his romantic history. He wasn’t one to keep the same woman around for long.

“No,” he quickly answered. “I made sure to prevent such a rumor from starting.”

Y/N finally slowly turned to him, her annoyance clear. “And you’re convinced that he really believed you?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Clark has always been rather good at detecting a lie.” His tone was so confident that it left little room for argument.

But Bruce knew a losing battle when he saw one.

He dipped his head. “Enjoy the rest of your night. Congratulations again.”

But Bruce lingered, debating if he wanted to say what was on my mind.

“You look very beautiful. Just like your mother.”

There was nothing creepy or contrived about it.

Y/N blinked at the compliment, completely taken aback.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Bruce dipped his head and finally surrendered, leaving the party.

Y/N felt a presence behind her shoulder as he watched him leave.

“Was Bruce Wayne just hitting on you?” Lois asked with amusement.

“No. Not at all,” her tone was dazed and confused.

“He’s a good guy,” Lois told her lightly.

“Doubt it.”

“I mean it,” Lois insisted. “The media has given him a bad image. But I think he likes it that way,” she shrugged. “It’s not easy for him to open up. He’s not quick to trust.”

Lois thought she was building up a possible suitor for Y/N, having not a clue that she was describing Y/N’s father to her.

But Y/N was too busy thinking about how much Bruce sounded like her.

—————

A few weeks had gone by since Bruce and Y/N had run into each other at the ceremony.

It got Bruce to thinking: would he and Y/N had run into each other at some point in life – even without her mother’s posthumously confession?

Y/N knew Lois and Clark, lived in Gotham, seemed to know the same people through her work that Bruce was forced to interact with to keep up his persona.

Would he have sensed a connection had that been the case?

The possibilities kept Bruce up at night…along with the guilt that had already been eating away at him since he first read the later. And he’d read it 100 times more since.

Of all the boys, Dick was the only one that knew of Y/N’s existence. And if he hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, Bruce never would’ve told him. He had just been in shock after reading the letter that he blurted out the realization while Dick was in the same room.

Since then, Bruce didn’t linger in a room alone with him, knowing Dick would finally let all of his questions loose. And Bruce wasn’t ready to answer them.

While Tim was the one to connect them, he never followed through with what the situation was. He already had too much to deal with on a daily basis. Tim simply thought he was doing a nice favor for a beautiful woman.

But if Bruce had told him, Tim would immediately do every possible background check on Y/N. He would be suspicious of the timing and underlying motives. He would probably assume that Y/N’s end goal was to get money or fame – or both. Bruce knew eventually Tim would come to the conclusion that Y/N wanted neither of those things. But it would still get an unnecessary rise out of the boy.

Bruce didn’t even want to think about how Damian would handle it. He knew his son felt a certain level of pride from being the only blood-son of his. Knowing he had a sibling – and an older sister at that – would most likely enrage him. And that wouldn’t make anything better.

Jason…Well, Jason would get a kick out of Bruce letting down yet another child. And it would just be worse that she was blood related. He’d be curious about Y/N. Hell, he’d probably be tickled by the no-bullshit attitude Y/N had towards Bruce and her harsh efforts to keep him out of her life completely.

Now, Bruce sat at a Justice League meeting.

They were only a few minutes into a council session when his communicator started going off.

The boys knew not to contact him unless it was an emergency. So, he quickly excused himself and stood to leave the room.

“What is it?” Bruce answered, his Batman voice in full form.

“There’s been an attack at city hall,” Dick reported back hurriedly.

Bruce frowned. The boys had handled much worse things on their own before. There had to be more to it than that.

“Scarecrow,” Dick confirmed. “He released a fear toxin. It’s bad Bruce. The mayor has been infected, along with half of their staff. I think it’s a new string. Our antidote doesn’t seem to doing anything. Even if it did, we don’t have nearly enough for the amount of victims.”

“The others?” Bruce asked quickly – meaning Damian, Jason, and Tim.

“They’re fine. Jason’s trying to get everyone out before they inhale too much. Tim and Damian went after Scarecrow. GPD is in a panic.”

Bruce turned to see Clark had raced to his side. Clearly he had been eavesdropping on the conversation. But the expression in his face prevented Bruce from getting into an argument about it.

“What?” Bruce asked him, knowing something was wrong.

“Lois and Y/N were at that council meeting,” Clark breathed out.

“We’ll be there soon,” Bruce told Dick before hanging up.

—

Bruce thought he knew fear from the few times his boys had been in trouble. But it was nothing compared to the fear he had knowing it was Y/N this time. She wasn’t a trained vigilante; she was just an innocent civilian. Bruce had not insured that she was trained and could take care of herself.

As soon as Clark dropped them on the ground, they were in the midst of the chaos.

“Lois!” Clark yelled.

People were too distracted to notice Superman and Batman had arrived.

Bruce looked over to see Lois rushing to Clark. He could tell it took all of Clark’s willpower not to embrace Lois from his relief.

“Are you OK?” Clark asked as he dipped his head and his eyes raced across his wife’s body.

“I-I’m fine. I got lucky. Somehow I was out of range of the gas explosion.”

“Y/N?” Bruce interrupted. “Did you see Y/N?”

“She was helping these kids get out and I was getting shoved out of the building. I tried to get to her but it was impossible with everyone’s panic. I think she’s still in there.”

Before Bruce could turn to Clark to come up with a plan, Clark flew into the building. A few people finally noticed the presence of superheroes and started murmuring.

“Nightwing, Red Hood – I’m at the front entrance of City Hall.”

Clark flew back to them not even 30 seconds later.

Y/N was unconscious in his arms.

“Oh my god,” Lois muttered at Y/N’s condition.

“She’s gone into shock. We need to get her to the medics,” Clark informed them. “She was exposed to the toxin more than the others.”

But Bruce was already shaking his head. “They won’t be able to help her.”

Clark gently handed Y/N to Bruce as he explained, “There are others in there.”

Just then Nightwing and Red Hood dropped in front of them.

Nightwing immediately recognized Y/N and his eyes shot up to Bruce with worry.

“Nightwing, I need you to take her back to the cave,” he tried to sound as controlled as possible.

Bruce was confused why Dick hesitated to take Y/N out of his arms.

“Do you have the batmobile? I brought my motorcycle,” Dick sounded apologetic when he explained.

Jason stepped forward before Bruce could answer. “I got her.”

As if she were the most fragile being ever, Jason carefully took Y/N’s unconscious body from Bruce’s grip. He could see in Bruce’s gaze that she was someone special. How and why, Jason would figure out later.

Jason had seen Y/N trying to help as many people before she was completely poisoned from the toxin. She’d risked her life to help.

Watching Jason cradle her into his body caught Clark off guard, always seeing the brute strength and almost animalistic energy from Red Hood whenever they so happened to fight beside each other.

“Meet us at the cave,” Bruce clarified. “Alfred will know what to do. We have to help out here more.”

Jason nodded before he hurried away with her and rushed to his hidden car.

——————

Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she shot up, sitting in a cot.

“Hey, hey, hey,” a voice she didn’t recognize said beside her. “You gotta relax.”

She turned to see a mammoth of a man sitting beside her, wearing vigilante gear with at least two guns being displayed at his sides. But it was the red helmet completely hiding his face and true voice that made Y/N feel uncomfortable.

“What the fuck,” she groaned at the sight of him.

Just a few seconds later, two men rushed into the room.

Bruce walked in still in his Batman uniform, but without his cowl – to Jason’s shock.

Clark was beside him, making Jason confused as to why he was still here. Surely he would want to be with Lois.

Y/N took in the sight before her.

“You were poisoned with a new strand of Scarecrow’s toxin,” Superman explained.

Y/N had seen plenty of pictures and shaky video of him. But now that the man stood before her, she immediately recognized him.

“Clark?” She gasped.

He didn’t say anything. But his expression didn’t fight her realization, just silently waited for the truth to settle.

“Does Lois know?” Was her next question.

Clark smirked at that. “Of course.”

Y/N gave a slight nod.

But now her attention switched to Bruce.

The Batman symbol was large across his chest, and his cape was still intact.

She looked around her surroundings and then up at the ceiling.

They were in a cave.

“You’re…you’re…” she couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Batman,” Bruce finally offered.

Y/N’s eyes were wide with panic.

How was this possible?

Now that the others had exposed their identity, Jason felt inclined to take off his helmet. Clearly, it was making her uncomfortable.

The hiss of his helmet being removed caused Y/N to finally look away from her father and to Jason, who still wore a domino mask. But it was far less frightening than the helmet.

“We’ll give you two a moment alone,” Clark spoke for both him and Jason.

Jason nodded and stood up from the seat beside Y/N, and walked out.

Clark lingered in the doorway. “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” he told her.

He might’ve revealed his Superman identity to her, but she was still his friend.

Y/N managed to nod in thanks, but was clearly still shook by all this news.

Bruce very slowly made his way to the chair that Jason had just been sitting in.

“How are you feeling?”

She shook her head. “Body’s sore. Migraine is killing me. What happened?”

“You were more exposed to the toxin more than the other victims. Jason brought you here. We had to make a new anecdote, and quickly.”

Bruce wanted to add that she could’ve died. But he didn’t see the use in scaring her.

“Oh,” was all she managed to mumble.

An awkward silence settled between them.

“Very few people know the truth about me,” Bruce explained.

Y/N’s gaze flickered up from her lap to look at him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I figured I couldn’t ask you to allow me into your world if I didn’t allow you into mine.”

She was silent.

“Y/N…” Bruce cleared his throat. The time had come. “The reason I left your mother was because I was starting this life. I pushed her away to protect her. I knew I couldn’t be the man she deserved while also being Batman. Had I known the truth…”

His words died out. It was starting to become harder to control his emotions.

He leaned forward in his chair, just getting slightly closer to her.

“Had I known about you, I would’ve…” He cleared his throat to try and hold back his tears. “I never would’ve abandoned you or your mother.”

He leaned back then. “But I know those are just words. And to you, they probably sound like empty promises for the past.”

“She never knew?” Y/N whispered.

In the few moments she was allowed to process this information, her mind immediately wondered if her mom had known about Bruce’s double life all along. And that’s why she kept him away from her.

Bruce shook his head.

“Thank you…for trusting me enough to tell me your secret,” Y/N finally told him. “I promise I’ll never tell anyone,” she quickly added, feeling like she just needed to clarify that to him.

He gave her a small small, “I know.”

Y/N winced as she thought about how terrible she’d been to him all this time. Now that she knew the truth – the whole truth – she was looking at everything with a new perspective. Even what she knew about Bruce Wayne, the spoiled socialite... it was clearly all wrong.

He used it as a cover. It was all a cover.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you,” she whispered shakily.

But Bruce shook his head before she could even get the apology out.

“Do you think it’s too late for us?” She breathed.

Could they ever find any fragment of a father-daughter relationship?

Y/N was an adult – she had been for years now. And she made it clear she didn’t need nor want a father.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me,” Bruce sighed.

Her brow furrowed. “This meaning…?”

“My son, Damian. His mother kept him a secret from me. She didn’t reveal his existence until he was nine. And she only did it in an attempt to disrupt my life.”

“This seems to be a rather strange pattern in your life,” Y/N couldn’t help but point out.

Bruce glared at her, causing her to chuckle.

“My point is,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s ever too late.” And he cleared his throat quickly. “That is, if you want to try.”

“I think I do,” she answered with a shy smile.

It was the first time she’d done so in his presence.

“I don’t know anything about raising a daughter,” Bruce rubbed his face as he attempted to make the joke. But she could tell there was sincerity there, too.

“Well, I’ve already been raised,” Y/N laughed.

There.

That laugh.

It brought Bruce back to his teenage years. It sounded so much like her mother. Her face lit up just like her’s had.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” he gasped.

Her face dropped at his confession.

“Really?”

He nodded. “She said you were just like me. But there’s more of her in you than I think she ever realized.”

Bruce saw his much his words effected her.

Y/N’s eyes were shiny with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

“So what now?” She quickly asked, obviously trying to distract herself so she wouldn’t have a complete emotional breakdown.

“Well, Alfred should have dinner ready soon. Would you stay?”

She gave him a tear-filled smile. “I’d like that.”

“You can meet the rest of them,” Bruce told her casually as he stood.

“The rest of them?”

He nodded. “Well, you only have to meet Damian now. You already met Jason, Dick, and Tim in passing.”

“And here I thought you had no idea how to be a father…” Y/N muttered with amusement.

Bruce helped her get out of bed, making sure she was alright to stand and walk on her own.

“Well, depending on which of them you ask, they might tell you that you’re right.”

--------------------

Thank you to everyone who read the first part. Let me know what you think <3

BONUS: This Game of Ours

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artificialqueens · 2 years ago

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I Love You, Professor (Biadore) - Bogozbinted

A/N: i wrote this at 2am. enjoy you freaks

Hellooo, is anyone home?”

Bianca waved her hand in front of her younger student’s lost face, as usual they weren’t paying attention at the slightest. She had to deal with dumb, moody teenagers all day, it was her entire career after all. But something about Adore was different, in a way that couldn’t be explained.

“Huh? Oh, soz…”

Adore kept her head tilted, their posture still slouched and uninterested. She was relying on no more than 3 hours of sleep, plus recovering from a shitty break up with her boyfriend. She was bored, too busy focusing on the relationships in her life instead of studying 18th century European music, not the most exciting topic ever…

They started eyeing the older woman as she continued to teach the rest of the class. From her long curly ginger hair to her black heels; Adore just couldn’t take her eyes off her. Was it the sleep depravity or the weed? Who knows, but Adore definitely knew what she wanted in that specific moment - her music professor.

Their eyes were glued on her. She had a more mature, fuller frame. Adore had never been with a woman before, especially not one twice their age. Usually she would just whore herself out to random men. But, something about their emotions towards this woman was so timid and shy. She was practically flustered, just sitting there thinking about her teacher fully clothed. Her dark tights gripped her curvy legs, complemented with a fitting leather pencil skirt, hugging her wide hips. Adores leg began bouncing like mad, as if she was an excited dog.

Her body was naturally slender and tall, despite being on estrogen for 2 years she wasn’t very shaped but it was usually good enough. They liked being manhandled, but she had never thought about being with another woman. They couldn’t stop thinking about their pale body being held and groped by h-

“Sleepyhead, it’s been 20 minutes and your pen hasn’t even grazed your paper. Can you stay after class so we can talk?”

Fuck. Adore felt as if she’d just been caught in the act. She was just tired on a Tuesday afternoon and not in the mood (for class at least). They would usually try in school, however after a decade or so of it, you get quite bored. She was 18, they could drive, drink, the last place they wanted to be was a classroom. And as people packed their bags and chattered down the corridor, Adore’s paper was still completely blank besides some accidental scribbles.

“C’mon sweet, come sit next to me.”

Bianca gestured and pulled out a stool next to her, she was used to the horrific squeak of the furniture against the hard floors. Adore slowly dragged herself, asif she was a corpse, towards the stool.

“Somethings clearly bothering you. I hope you’re just tired and sober, ‘cuz I would hate to see you throw away your education like this, Dorey.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” The younger girl rubbed her eyes, almost sweating at the thought of how close they were to her sexy professor. “I just, y'know, broke up with my boyfriend and I don’t even, like, know how I feel…”

“Hmm, sweetie,” Bianca put her hand on their shoulder, rubbing it soothingly . “I don’t really know how I can help. That’s not really any of my business as your tea-”

“Maybe you could give me extra tutoring?” Adore blurted out, in a heated rush

“Hah, did you make all that up so you could ask me that?”

“No, I’m just too tired to think.”

“The usual. I think the library will be empty Thursday after school, I’ll meet you then, okay?”

Adore nodded while grabbing their stuff sloppily, turning towards the door.

“Oh, and when you’re staring at my tits, make it a little less obvious next time.”

Bianca smirked as she watched her student rush out in embarrassment. She had always liked Adore differently to the others. They were just a quiet stoner, but their passion for music seemed more genuine compared to everyone else in the class. Maybe getting off with them wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, infact, she was kind of into it. She’d been fantasising about it for a long time and she had finally found the perfect opportunity.

-> time skip because I’m lazy lolz <-

Thursday came quickly, neither girl could stop thinking about each other. Bianca didn’t go into work, she told the office she had gone to a different school to examine their techniques. She spent her entire day preparing to meet her student, as if it was a date. Well, basically it was.

Despite how hard she tried to oppress it, she really enjoyed spending time with Adore. Thinking about the witty banter they would exchange in their classes every other day kept her going. She had a big house she inherited, but no one to share it with. Maybe her favourite student was perfect for the job?

Adore threw on her usual baggy trousers and hoodie. Despite beginning her transition 3 years ago, they never really had an interest in hyper femininity. They had a few slutty lingerie sets laying around, but that’s pretty much a set expectation for any woman in her prime. She obviously wanted to set a good impression in her fashion, however there’s no point when the clothes are just gonna end up on the floor. She wandered out the house, taking only her phone and airpods. The library was only in the city centre, a 15 minute walk from Adore’s trashy flat. The perfect amount of time to think about her actions and how she’s gonna behave.

“You’re on time, that’s new.” Bianca said, leaning into the girl to give her a small motherly kiss on the cheek.

“I just wanted to see you, that’s all”

“It’s sweet when you put effort in.”

The library was completely empty. After all it was a late Thursday afternoon, fairly dark outside. Even Bianca wasn’t really in the mood for education, she just needed an excuse, a cover up, to get closer to Adore. She plopped her bag on the wooden table, pulling out a thick leather-bound book.

“Here baby, these books have most of the notes in. Can you just copy them up for me?” She said, playing with the other girls’ brunette hair.

Adore nodded, whimpering slightly. She felt her professor’s warm hands travel up and down her thighs. Fuck. She has clearly done this with someone else before, the young girl had never seen anyone tease with this much skill. They bit down on their pen, cracking it slightly, trying to muffle her soft moans. By now, Bianca had fully unzipped her students’ jeans and had her hands gently massaging Adore’s ever growing bulge. She began grinding on her lover’s hand, still pretending to seem interested in her music work.

“Sweetheart, you haven’t written anything down yet.”

Adore let out a loud moan, she couldn’t help herself. She had never been teased so viciously in her entire life. Noone had ever focused on pleasuring them specifically, without benefit involved. Bianca’s touch was so aggressive in nature, yet so timid and loving towards Adore specifically. To think that her strict, well dressed music teacher was currently jerking her off in a public library was sending her brain further into overload.

“Ple-please, suck me off please.”

Adore whispered, their entire body tense. Their breathing became more vigorous as the gentle pace of the jerking slowed down.

“I don’t think you’ve done enough work baby.”

She worked her way down her students sensitive neck, leaving predominant purple bruises. Adore advanced her hands down the older woman’s blouse, squeezing her tits softly. Their cock started throbbing even harder. The risk of being caught, turned them both on to an extreme, combined with the nature of their ‘taboo’ relationship: Adore was set to cum any minute now. She pulled Bianca’s head from her butchered neck and to her lips. They could hardly keep their lips and hands off each other.

“Fuuck…”

Adore squirted cum up her lover’s shirt and all over her hands. Drawing her in for one final sloppy kiss. Reality had finally sunk in for both of them - had they just really done this in a public library. No actual progress was made in furthering her failing education, but it was still the most productive studying she had ever done in her life.

“I love you, professor.”

#rpdr fanfiction #adore delano #bianca del rio #biadore #smut #lesbian au #trans character #student/teacher #college au #bogozbinted #concrit welcome

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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago

Text

Unexpected Encounters (Adrenaline Junkie Part 8)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: minor swearing

Word count: 2,775

You walked down the now worn cobblestone path towards the main plaza of the village by Philza’s house. Whistling the first verse of the L’manberg national anthem, you wove slightly at the crowd of people gathered at the stands that littered the sides of the street.

The village was much larger than the entire L’manberg nation. It had several different precincts with a large, diverse group of people and a few hybrids living there. It also had more amenities like shops, a library (which, to your delight, grew expansively to include more books on inventions, some being exclusively about yours. They were proud people that embraced whatever fame comes out of the area), and multiple towering office buildings.

Everything’s changed since you’ve last been here a year ago. What was now more modern used to be traditional. What was loosely populated was now bustling with people. What used to be barren was now chock full of shops and apartment complexes. It was kind of jarring to see this much change in a little over a year.

In retrospect, it was jarring how much you changed in a little over a year. The hallucinations have finally almost completely stopped along with the nightmares. They only came about once a week now. You were slowly reincorporating green back into your wardrobe. Your phantom pain has retreated into your subconscious. It was always going to be with you, so you got used to the constant pain and tingling feeling. You learned to appreciate the small things in life and just live in the moment so you would have something positive to look back on in the future.

You invented several different gadgets to help your brothers win the L’manberg War of Independence such as a portable TNT launcher, handheld long-distance communication devices (which you affectionately dubbed walkie talkies since you could walk and talk! Wilbur and Tommy were not as enthusiastic of the name as you were), and a redstone powered crossbow that continuously fired arrows until you released the trigger. Though all of your inventions were practically your babies, they did not come anywhere close to trumping your magnum opus: your metal fully functioning wing.

After several mishaps and failed attempts, you finally made your wing correspond to the electrical impulses in your muscles so that it copied the movements of your flesh wing. It’s built out of a lightweight hollow iron and has feather shaped metal pieces protruding off from it to emulate your other wing. It was a sleek silver color that always caught a ray of sunshine and reflected it to another place. It was basically permanently attached to your body by now due to it being a pain to take on and off. It was just easier and more efficient to keep it on constantly.

People around you stared, some in awe and some in admiration. A stark difference from when you first lost your wing. Sometimes, you resented them for treating you differently just because your name became more widely known, but you were always a firm believer that everyone deserves a second chance. Even attention seeking, unscrupulous assholes looking for cheap brownie points from their peers because ‘I knew them before they were discovered! I knew them personally, we were, like, really close!’ So for now, you tried to ignore the ugly indignation bubbling in your gut and threatening to spew out in a string of hurtful words. You were sick of being angry, especially now that L’manberg is at peace.

You passed several people who pointed at you and whispered amongst themselves. Ignoring them, you continued onward with your head held high and your wings folded in tightly to avoid children grabbing and pulling them with their grubby little hands. It always took you a while to clean and preen them after people touched them. You hated cleaning off fingerprints and grime from the smooth metal.

Walking with a sense of purpose, you continued onwards passing multiple shops and stands until you finally reached the butcher. Opening the decorated glass door, a little bell chimed alerting the burly man behind the counter of your presence. Like the others, he stared wide-eyed at you with his lips slightly parted in shock. Great, another exhausting encounter.

Putting on a polite smile, you broke the silence of the meat shop. “Hello, I’m here to buy half a pound of fresh ground beef. Would you by chance have any in stock?” That seemed to snap him out of his stupor.

“O-of course, I’ll get that for you right away.”

He disappeared into the backroom where frosty fog rolled out in tiny clouds. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Maybe he wouldn’t ask any questions or try to get to know you on a personal level.

He returned in a hurry, slapping the wrapped beef onto the counter and giving you a price. Reaching into your wallet for the cash, you paid him generously. “Keep the change.”

“I-thank you, Mx. Minecraft.”

Putting the beef into your satchel, you gave him a more genuine smile. “Don’t mention it.”

Briskly walking out, you made a beeline for the village’s main entrance. You couldn’t stand the feeling of constantly being watched and talked about anymore. Why couldn’t they treat you like a normal person? In your opinion, you were, well, you. Nothing was special about you.

As you were about to cross the threshold of the village, you heard footsteps behind you.

“HEY! MX. MINECRAFT I NEED TO TALK TO YOU.”

Stopping dead in your tracks, you closed your eyes and took a few steadying breaths so that you wouldn’t lash out at this person. You just wanted to go to your childhood home and have a nice, peaceful dinner with your dad. Was that too much to ask?

Opening your eyes and plastering on a fake smile, you turned around and greeted him. He was a young boy, probably around eleven or twelve years old. His clothes and shaggy auburn hair were disheveled and he had dirt smeared on his face. “Hello, to whom may I owe the pleasure?”

He put his hands on his knees and tried to talk between gasping breaths. “Mx, my name’s Arthur Fox, i-it’s truly an honor to meet you. I’ve admired your work since before the war in L’manberg. You’re an amazing inventor and I wanna be just like you when I grow up. I- oooh I’m sorry, I’m rambling aren’t I?” He kind of reminded you of Tubbo in a strange way.

“No, you’re fine Arthur. Thank you for being a fan of my work, but I must get going. I have an important meeting to attend to.” You weren’t exactly lying to the young boy. Turning on your heel, you started to walk off only to feel a hand on your arm.

“Mx, I need to talk to you.”

“I really have to get going, Arthur. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“No, it’s important.”

You struggled to keep the smile on your face as you shrugged his arm off as politely as you could. This kid is determined. Too determined. “So’s my meeting. I have to go.” You started to walk off into the beaten forest path.

“Do you know about The Warden?”

You halted abruptly and sharply turned around. You let your smile and polite stature drop into pursed lips and sharp eyes.

“...Of course I do. Everyone does.”

Flinching slightly, he quickly recovered his confident facade. “No, that’s not what I meant. Do you know about The Warden?”

“Like I said,” you played stupid, “everybody does. Who doesn’t?”

He puffed his cheeks out in frustration. “Ugh, how could someone so smart be so stupid at the same time? I mean you met it didn’t you? It took your wing.”

You took a step forward and narrowed your eyes, fully facing him now. “How do you know about that? Who told you?”

He stepped back. “I-I heard rumors a couple of years back that it got someone. I heard your name thrown around here and there.”

You gave him enough of a warning that you didn’t want to talk, but he ignored it and now he has to reap the consequences. At this point, you were so tired and drained from everyone trying to be buddy-buddy with you that you finally snapped. The only thing you wanted was to go home, you did not need this right now.

“Well, Arthur, you shouldn’t pry into other people’s business. I’ve told you time and time again that I have to leave, yet you persist to stop me. Why? And where are your parents, didn’t they teach you any manners?”

He looked downwards and fiddled with his fingers. “They’re dead. T-The Warden took someone important to me. I… I thought you might be able to help me.”

Shit, you just yelled at a grieving orphan. You were a massive asshole weren’t you? Your eyes softened slightly and you frowned. “...I’m sorry for your loss. Is there anything I could do to make it up to you? Dinner perhaps? We can talk about how I could help you afterwards.”

He glanced up at you. “But-but what about your meeting.”

You winced. “Uh, I’m moving it forward, we have more pressing matters.” You paused awkwardly. “Do… Do you have anybody to ask permission? Any siblings?”

His shoulders drooped. “...No. I’m all by myself.”

Shit, you yelled at a grieving homeless orphan? God what kind of role model were you?

“C’mon, kid. We’re going to my house.”

His wordlessly followed you and avoided looking into your eyes. The walk to your childhood home was very awkward, neither of you attempted starting conversation. You sighed.

“Look, Arthur I’m sorry for yelling at you like that. That was really uncalled for, I shouldn’t have yelled or gotten mad. It’s just that- The Warden’s a… touchy subject for me.”

“It’s alright, Mx. Minecraft. You can make it up to me by… making me dinner and showing me some of your blueprints?”

He looked up to you with hope filled, sparkling eyes. You snorted. “It’s a deal, kid. We’re almost there.”

You could see the silhouette of the house in the nearly setting sun. It was still the same as when you left a year ago.

“Ya know,” you sighed out, “this is actually my Dad’s house. I’m just visiting him for a couple of weeks.”

“Where do you live then?”

“I live in the heart of L’manberg with my brothers.”

“That’s cool…” He trailed off. You frowned, it seems that he was nervous to meet your Dad. You probably should’ve mentioned that Philza was there to him before taking him here.

You stopped, grabbing Arthur’s shoulders. “Kid, you don’t have to worry about meeting my dad. He’s probably the kindest, most genuine man I’ve ever met. He’ll welcome you with open arms, that’s what he did with me and my three brothers. He adopted us all.”

He gave you a small smile. “Alright, Mx. Minecraft, I trust you.”

“Oh, please don’t call me ‘Mx. Minecraft’, it makes me feel ancient,” you lolled your head back and dramatically groaned out, making him giggle. “I just turned twenty, buddy. Feel free to call me (y/n).”

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you led him to the front door. You twisted the old door knob and pushed the wooden door open.

“Dad, I’m home and I brought the beef!”

He popped his head out from the kitchen, his messy blond hair flopping onto his face. He gave you a joking smile. “Took you long enough, any longer and I would’ve locked ya out.”

You watched as his eyes wandered over to Arthur. He frowned, revealing his frilly pink apron that Wilbur got him as a joke. Oh, you could just hear the gears in his head churning.

“...(Y/n), who’s this?”

Grinning sheepishly, you replied. “Dad, this is Arthur Fox. Arthur, this is my dad Philza Minecraft. I promised him dinner and somewhere to stay for the night. Do you have some of Tommy’s old clothes Artie could borrow for the night?”

He sighed, shooting you a we’ll-talk-about-this-later look. “Yes, they’re in the attic. I’ll grab them after dinner so he could shower before going to bed.”

Arthur timidly spoke up. “Thank you, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad softened and gave him a gentle smile. “It’s no problem, Arthur. And please, call me Philza. Mr. Minecraft makes me feel old.”

Arthur let out a loud laugh. Despite everything he went through, his laugh still sounds like an innocent child’s laugh. You chuckled, kids always had a silly little laugh. Philza grinned at him, a child’s laughter was something that he missed.

Arthur wiped at his eyes as his laughter died down. “I’m sorry, (y/n) said the same outside.”

“I did,” you smiled lightly at Arthur before looking back at Philza with mischief, standing up straight and putting your hands on your hips. “But I was funnier.”

“Pft, you wish. I was saying that before you were even born. So, I win because I’ve been saying it longer.”

“Whatever ya say, old man. Funniness over age.”

He playfully glared at you, placing an offended hand over his heart. “I’m not that old.”

“Ya kinda are, Dad. You’re practically turning to dust!”

He gasped. “I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am no- wait Dad, that’s cheating!”

“You still said it though!” He sang out, grinning at you cheekily.

“No, that doesn’t count!”

Arthur’s amused brown eyes bounced between you and Philza like he was watching a tennis match. Every so often, he would giggle at something one of you said. You both took your banter to the kitchen where you and Philza started to cook. Dinner was done and the table was set in no time. There was pleasant small talk as dinner neared an end

Your dad swallowed his last bite of beef and turned his attention towards Arthur. “So Arthur, how old are you?”

Arthur gave a small grin. “I’m ten.”

“Do your paren-”

You loudly coughed, throwing a discreet glare at Philza. Mouthing ‘don’t’ from behind your hand, you took a big sip of your water and stood up. “I’ll wash all the dishes. Arthur, would you like to look at some of my blueprints while we wait for my Dad to get you some clothes?”

His eyes shined with excitement. “Yes please!”

You chuckled, putting the plates in the sink and walking down to your old workshop to grab one of the blueprints you left in a filing cabinet. You grabbed the first draft for your prosthetic and the final draft for the automatic farm.

Upstairs, you situated the blueprints in front of Arthur at the dinner table. “Okay buddy, learn to your heart’s content. I’m gonna do the dishes. If you need something just give me a shout.”

Walking into the kitchen, you filled the sink with warm soapy water and got started scrubbing. You moved your wings around subconsciously as you wiped the pots and plates clean of grease. Humming in satisfaction when you were done, you dried your hands and sat next to Arthur who was looking at your designs with complete awe.

“You like them?”

He nodded his head so fast you thought it might fall off and started to fling questions at you. You smiled fondly at him, it was nice to see someone so interested in how your inventions were made and not just how they worked.

You two were mid conversation when Philza walked into the room with a bundle of clothes in his arms. You grabbed Arthur’s hand and led him up to the bathroom. You bent down and rested your hands on your knees, looking at him.

“Alright buddy, everything you need is in there, clean towels are in the closet. When you’re done, I’ll be in my room just over there,” you pointed to your door. “Last door on the left. I can show you where you’ll be sleeping for the night when you’re done. Does that sound okay?”

He gave you a gap-toothed smile. “Yes, thank you (y/n)! You’re the best!”

He closed the bathroom door and you stood there. You felt… oddly fond for the boy you just met only hours before.

Philza cleared his throat and pinned you to the wall with a stern look. “(Y/n), explain now.”

“I will, but let’s talk in my room so Arthur can shower in peace. Poor boy needs it.”

He sighed and walked into your room. You had a long talk ahead of you.

(A/N): so, how do you guys like Arthur?

Taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@acecarddraws @goldenstarofthunderclan @ravennightingaleandavatempus @dirtydiavolo @yeiras-world @immadatmostthings @hee-hee-haw @jackalopedoodles @m1lkmandan @vanhakirja @im-a-depressed-gay @coolleviauchihadreamerlove @questioning-sanity @camisascam

@bongwaterflavoredgatorade @kakamiissad @jayistrash4 @lifestylesleep @speedymaximoff @sun-shark-tooth @appetiteofapeoplepleaser @lestrangenymph @kinismanditory @dragons-lurk-here @rinzyx05 @the-wandering-pan-ace @sparkling-gayyyy @angelic-scent @shinipii @dont-hug-me-im-a-fander @izzydimensional @used-avocado @laura--444

#sbi x reader #sleepy bois x reader #sleepy bois inc x reader #philza x reader #wilbur soot x reader #tommyinnit x reader #sibling reader #platonic #mcyt #mcyt x reader #x reader #tw: swearing

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veilder · 3 years ago

Note

"I thought you left" "Nope, just making pancakes" - Convin

Okay, so, I love this prompt and I promised I'd try to write it so... I actually did this last week at like 2 am and have been too busy to edit it until now. But I'm kinda sick of trying to puzzle it out so just take it please, omg.

(Prompt from this post if anyone's curious.)

Stay

The sun was already high in the sky when Gavin finally blinked awake. He could tell because there was one fuckin sliver of window he could never manage to cover with the blackout curtains hanging up in his bedroom and the goddamn sun was shining right in his fuckin eyes, Jesus Christ! With a groan, he rolled over, squeezing his eyes shut in a futile attempt to go back to sleep. But even that small burst of cognizance had its consequences. Gavin could feel the awareness creeping in fast, God fuckin dammit. Was a little shut-eye too much to ask for? But there was something... Something niggling at the back of his mind. It itched at instincts well-honed by over a decade on the force and not even his most earnest desire to return to oblivion could keep it at bay. Restlessly, Gavin huffed out a disgruntled sigh as he kicked at the covers, frustrated despite himself at being roused after the night he’d had— Like a shock passing through his body, Gavin’s eyes snapped open, memories of the previous evening flashing through is mind. But just as readily, a heaviness settling deep in his heart as he took in the other side of the bed. The sheets were mussed and the pillow indented, a clear sign of its former occupant. Evidence as plain as day told Gavin that last night hadn’t been some delusion or dream. And yet… He reached out a hand, an involuntary, desperate motion, tracing the outline where his partner had lain. Where Connor had lain. But just as he’d feared, the sheets were cold. They matched the ice filling his heart. Slowly shuffling upright, Gavin leaned back against the headboard as memories of the previous day filled his waking mind. Flashes of the case he and Connor had worked together rushed by in a flurry. The tip-off for the perp they’d been tracking for weeks and the reckless chase that followed. The abandoned warehouse. The shootout. Vivid Thirium across dirty concrete. Connor had taken a bullet for him. Gavin remembered staring up into those brown eyes, watching as a splatter of blue burst from his chest. "I'm fine," Connor had said, "the bullet didn't nick anything important." And even though the android had gotten right back up and proceeded to almost single-handedly take down the rest of the hostiles attacking them, it was still a moment Gavin knew would haunt him for a long-ass time. Shit was enough to give him nightmares. It did give him nightmares, in fact. Which is how the two of them had ended up back here. In Gavin's apartment. Together. Because after that little fiasco, after the gang had been arrested and the hostages recovered and both he and Connor had been checked over by a medic and technician respectively, it still left the job far from complete. Needless to say, Gavin had eventually nodded off at his desk after a long night of interrogation and paperwork, the rushes of adrenaline and fear more than even his beloved coffee could contend with. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. Just a moment and then he'd finish up. But when he awoke some indeterminate time later, it was to his own voice screaming, Connor's name upon his lips, Connor's blue blood scattered across the darkest corners of his mind, Connor's hand upon his shoulder jostling him awake. The android’s LED was flashing a violent red as he stared Gavin down, his brown eyes wide with worry. Gavin couldn't help but cling to him, something twisting, clenching in his heart and demanding he hold on tightly. From there, things had passed in a blur, though he remembered Fowler's imposing figure ordering the both of them to take the next few days off. Too tired and distressed to argue, Gavin agreed immediately, only too glad to get the fuck out of there and go home. And Connor? Connor insisted he drive Gavin home. Connor insisted he make sure Gavin got to his door. Connor insisted that he get Gavin to his bed. And Gavin, still clinging to the android with every last bit of his flagging strength, let him. Over and over he let the android steer him along, trusting a partner fully for the first time in... For the first time

in far too long. And when Gavin had finally settled, comfortable yet shivering in his too-large bed, he took a moment to insist right back. "Stay," he'd said. One word. One plea. A lifetime of wanting to not be alone wrapped up in a single syllable. A few short weeks of shifting worldviews and growing affections cradled in four letters. A wealth of experience in loss stealthily couched within a breath. Gavin insisted. And Connor stayed. Or, at least Gavin thought he had. Because here and now, in the stupidly bright light of day, he was alone again. Like always. He didn't know why he'd expected otherwise. He really should've known better. After all, why would Connor want to hang around here? Especially after his fuckin embarrassing little act last night, fuck. He probably had loads of things to do. Important... android things... People to meet. Places to be. He wouldn't waste his entire day sitting around in Gavin's shitty apartment while he slept like a log. How fuckin stupid would that be? It didn't mean anything. Gavin told himself this over and over again as he shifted, swinging his legs out from under the covers and onto the floor. Just because they could be considered friends now didn't mean Connor had to drop everything for him. Just because he'd begging him to stay didn't mean Connor owed him anything. He'd probably felt uncomfortable as hell last night, what with Gavin whining and bitching at him like a fuckin child. Probably said what he could to mollify him before getting the hell out of Dodge. Gavin couldn't even blame him for that. Fuck, Connor'd just had emergency maintenance done! Because of Gavin! Like hell he'd want some handsy human all over him for ten straight hours, Jesus Christ. It didn't mean anything. Even if he wished it did. His stomach picked that moment to rumble, thankfully interrupting his little pity-party. Thank fuck. It was too early in the morning (or afternoon technically) to be crying over stupid shit. He was probably just hungry. Yeah, that's it. He's all fuckin emotional cause he hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours. It didn't matter that Connor fucked off ASAP, Gavin could get some waffles delivered. Waffles never fuckin betrayed him. He could trust waffles. With newfound resolve, Gavin stood, fumbling for his phone on the nightstand before scrolling through his food delivery aps to see if he could get waffles from anywhere at two in the fuckin afternoon. With heavy tread he stepped out into the hallway, mouth already watering at the prospect and stomach rumbling again in agreement. Fuck, he could almost smell them already. Wait. No, he can smell them? What the fuck?! Before Gavin could do anything more but stand there in his pajamas, wide-eyed and mystified, a figure stepped into view. Instinctively, Gavin's heart raced, adrenaline flooding his veins as the threat of a home invader cycled through his brain. In that fraction of a second, he was prepared to dive into an all-out brawl with the bastard. He was not in the mood for this shit! But then said bastard's lips quirked into a dazzling grin and a brown-eyed gaze sent Gavin reeling in disbelief. While his brain was preoccupied with keeping his suddenly-weak legs standing, his idiot mouth opened up on it's own: "I thought you left,” he said, choking on his disbelief. Connor (because of course it was Connor) only quirked his head to the side in that cute way he does, looking for all the world like the dogs he so adored. His LED flashed a single, swirling yellow before settling back to blue and he said, "No, I was just making pancakes. I thought perhaps you might be hungry." A strange hesitance entered his voice, some dour note falling across his features. "Did you want me to leave?" "No!" Gavin blurted out in a moronic, high-pitched squeak because again, he was nothing if not an idiot. (And one destined to embarrass himself at every possible moment at that.) Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I mean, you can do whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me." (He's lying through his teeth. It obviously did matter to him. It

mattered a huge fuckin deal!) Connor blinked at him, the only sign of the awkward atmosphere between them the flashing colors at his temple. "Your words run contrary to both your body language and your involuntary actions," he said, "And they are a direct counterpoint to your request last night." Gavin fidgeted, knowing the damn android was right but never in a million years wanting to admit it. "Stop analyzing me, dipshit, it's too early for this." Finally, Connor's face relaxes a bit, a smile smile stealing across his lips. "It is two thirty-three in the afternoon, Gavin. Far from early." "Oh, can it, Poindexter! You know what I mean!" With a huff, Gavin moves forward, sidling past his annoying house guest. "What was that about pancakes?" Connor beams at him as the two of them enter the kitchen. "Ah yes. I determined that you would be hungry after going so long without food. I managed to make due with your atrocious grocery selection and have prioritized calories over nutrition for the time being. But just this once.” While Connor seemed dead set on critiquing the apparently-lackluster pantry he’d been forced to bravely overcome, Gavin only had eyes for the heaping pile of flapjacks sitting at his breakfast nook, fluffy and golden brown and still steaming. Fresh off the griddle, holy shit. How did he…? Despite his hunger, Gavin looked over at Connor questioningly. It was almost like the android could read his mind (which was a scary fucking thought) as he answered his unspoken query immediately: "I calculated your sleep cycle based off the Circadian rhythms I observed during your convalescence. I'm glad I timed it right. I wanted you to enjoy your breakfast." "It's past 2 pm," Gavin retorted with a smirk, "can't be breakfast now, hotshot." Connor's answering smile made Gavin want to melt into a puddle and he quickly turned away, staring at said breakfast with a helpless desperation. "Indeed," the android said, heedless of his partner's distress. "Regardless of the time of day, I wanted you to enjoy your meal, nonetheless." And something more vulnerable finally stole into his voice then, the merest shadow of his quiet pleas from the night before. "I thought, perhaps, you might consider them an offering." Gavin tore his gaze away from his not-breakfast then, looking up at his partner with enough confusion to drive out all other complicated emotions. "What offering? What the fuck are you talking about, tincan?" And now Connor was the one to look away. "It's just that..." He drew in a deep breath (though Gavin knew it was only him mimicking humans. Fucker didn't actually need to breathe) and continued, "yesterday... Yesterday frightened me. When I saw that gunman aiming at you, I—" He clenched his eyes shut, LED flashing a dangerous red. "In that moment, I preconstructed a multitude of outcomes, many of them where you did not survive. In which that bullet found its mark. And the thought of it, Gavin!" he wails. "I couldn't—! The thought was unbearable! And so I calculated the best result. And I determined my course of action. And you lived. You lived. And I thought that would be the end of it. But..." Finally, Connor looked up, his eyes meeting Gavin's head-on once more. "It was like a glitch. The preconstruction, it— It kept resurfacing again and again and again, every time you were out of my sight. And I... I disliked the feeling immensely. I think perhaps I hated it, even. And so I did my best to linger. I didn't want to leave you. Even though I knew you were safe, I still... It was so irrational but I still wanted to verify that you were okay. I still do." Before them the pancakes were growing cold, but neither paid them any mind. Connor looked away again, eyes shut. "I thought that, perhaps you had figured this much out last night. Which is why you asked me to stay. Because we are friends now and that's what friends do. But I worried that I may have... forced the issue... in my desperation. And I-I... I wanted to do something for you in return for your generosity." Looking down at the cooling

breakfast, Connor's face fell further. "I know it's not much but I thought at least—" Gavin had heard enough. "Okay, okay, okay, hold the fuck up, dumbass!" He stood, breakfast forgotten, and approached the shocked android with a fierce determination. Jabbing a finger directly into Connor's chest, he stated as sternly as he could, "You don't owe me a goddamn thing! For fuck's sake, Connor! You fuckin saved my goddamn life yesterday! You took a fuckin bullet for me! And even after that, you still fuckin stayed with me and made sure I got home safe!" A growl rumbled through his chest as Gavin poked Connor again. "I was having a fuckin nightmare about you dying! When you woke me up in the precinct! Did you know that?!" Connor shook his head but Gavin only poked him a third time, this time with much less force. He left his hand there, palm splayed across where his heart would be were he human. "That shit kept replaying for me, too. Over and over again. So I get it. I get wanting to 'verify.' I was doing the same thing. That's why I asked you to stay. Because I fuckin—! I wanted you here, okay?! Because the idea that you were hurt or injured or fuckin dead had me panicking!" He brought his other arm up now, slinging it around Connor's broad shoulders in a half-embrace, and leaned in, burying his face in the android's neck. "That shit's unbearable to me, too, tincan. Thinking of this fuckin trash heap of a world without you in it is—" He sucked in a breath. "Can't stand the thought." They stood there for what felt like an eternity (though it was probably only a few seconds) before slowly—tentatively—Connor brought his own arms up to squeeze around Gavin. He held him with a brittle tenderness, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid Gavin might break. And fuck, maybe he would. Maybe Connor could shatter him into a hundred-thousand little pieces. But shit, he'd take it. Because Gavin would never have been in this situation in the first place if Connor hadn't broken right through his walls first, scattering him and leaving him adrift in a strange, new world. And when he’d managed to build himself back up, it was into something—someone—stronger. Someone who could look at the world and see progress instead of oppression, opportunity instead of limitations, people instead of just machines. Connor had shattered his body once before down in the archives. He'd shattered his mind too over these last few months. It’d only make sense for him to shatter his heart as well. But he didn't. He wouldn't. And as Connor held him like a thing to be cherished, Gavin felt again that perhaps he'd been right last night. Perhaps this was a partner he could trust. A partner who could trust him, too. And perhaps he would— "Stay."

_____________

Bonus:

Connor: "Okay, but only if you eat your pancakes. I didn't download an entire cooking catalogue for you to let them go to waste, Gavin." Gavin: "Fuckin bite me, we're having a moment here." Connor: "Is your stomach rumbling part of that moment?" Gavin: "God fucking dammit, I fuckin hate you." Connor: ^_^ "False!" Gavin: "Fuck!"

And they lived happily ever after. ♥

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kaijurakunsobs · 3 years ago

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If requests are open could you do a Heisenberg fic with a teen or young adult reader(no older than 20 please) who stumbles into the village trying to get away from their parents and after they get attacked by Lycans Heisenberg patches them up and takes them in trying to hide them from his sister and mother miranda. Could you please do it with an AFAB reader who doesn’t identify as female? I am currently dealing with borderline verbal abuse from my conservative father who doesnt like that though I am AFAB I don’t identify as female.

first, baby, I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I know how bad and mentally taxing that kind of living situation can get, I was in a similar situation and somehow managed to pull through.

you are not alone, you are loved and I hope everything gets better, never forget that it's you who defines yourself, your self worth should NEVER be defined by others

All you can think is...how cold everything is around you, how the freezing air burns your skin and lungs, but, you have endured something worst, physical pain can be healed with time, emotional and psychological pain is what hurts the most, what feels eternal and haunting, it coils around you, it grows and never let's go, like being branded, it leaves marks that never go away.

Running aimlessly through the snow feels like nothing.

What made you get out of the car?

Was it anger?

Desperation?

Does that even matter anymore?

You can't hear their voices anymore, so that's a win.

Farther away you see smoke and fain lights, distant sounds beckoning you closer to that place, and you let yourself smile widely when the silhouette of someone standing so close to you, you could get help, start somewhere new, be happy!

But it's so short-lived, that you question if there's divine retribution, karma, or just the universe laughing in your face.

Your "savior" is covered in blood, a man with a perpetual expression of agony lays in the snow, dead. The monster turns to you and finally the cold freezes you where you stand, it's not alone, and all the other creatures are looking at you, dark soulless eyes fixated on their new prey.

You have felt like that before under his gaze like if you were vermin, it made you furious how you were treated and consider as something lesser than a person. These things look at you the same like you are just a speck of dust in their path, and maybe you are, if the mangled body is any indication that taking a life will be nothing for them.

You see it from the corner of your eye, one of them lunges for you, and then? everything is a blur.

You remember kicking and punching wildly, adrenaline making you forget about the pain of the bites and scratches, there are memories of you running and using something to smash the head of one of the monsters, a rock, perhaps? But in the end, cold, blood loss, and exhaustion are enough to bring you to your knees. One of them grabs a fistful of hair and roars in your face and you know, that, this is it, you fought and did your best, but this is the end of your travesty...so much for your new life of freedom.

"Get the fuck away...I SAID FUCK OFF!" his voice is so loud that it makes you whimper and recoil "LET GO, CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? LET GO, DAMN IT!" the smell of blood and a warm liquid hits you hard, but at least you are free, letting your body hit the snow

"What do we have here?...this one is alive, but ya ain't from around here, do you?" he's smoking and something small and silly wants you to tell him that smoking is bad, which makes you smile so softly "...Interesting"

Heisenberg rarely gets intrigued by anything, he hasn't found anything to spark his curiosity in so long, so of course, he had to come and see what was causing such a commotion. What he thought to be a villager, fist fighting the lycans so valiantly, turned out to be a teenager, he saw you from afar, furiously kicking lycan after lycan, you didn't even notice the growing red spots in your clothes and the black eye, it was survival and feral like behavior. Truly interesting.

Now, what made him pick you up with care? years from today he will say it was just "Scientific interest kiddo! nothing more", but, it's the pain in your face that makes him act so soft, it's not the agony brought by your wounds, this goes deeper, it's different and he knows it very well.

Under normal circumstances, he would have taken you to Moreau, but he knows the loud mouth will give you to that bitch Miranda and that will be it for you. Dimitrescu is OUT of the equation, so does Beneviento, hell knows what her psychotic ass would do to you. So he brings you back to his home and takes time to clean your wounds, true, his stitching abilities are amazing...on corpses, and a lack of anesthesia and your occasional movements makes it hard for him to stitch you properly, but by the end of everything, you are bandaged and clean, isn't that the important part?

He’s done his part, the rest is on you. If you had the strength to fight and even kill a lycan, you might live to see another day

How long were you out?

You are warm and so fucking sore, cracking your eyes open is a big task and even harder to sit up in the bed you are laying on. The room is black and smells like tobacco, oil, and something you can’t place but it’s nice.

Barefoot and curious you start to get up, wincing deep and loud when pain floods your body, but you get up non-less, you feel the cold air hit your legs, and immediately pull down the shirt to cover yourself. Then it fully clicks, the jagged memories of what happened slaps you in the face and make you lose your footing, falling back on the bed you pry the shirt off from your body, you see bandages and patches placed on smaller wounds, your head is killing you and your right eye hurts like crazy.

With small breathes you pull the shirt back on and force your body to get up and investigate the room. There are piles of clothes and pieces of paper everywhere, picking one of the pants you sigh, these are yours, but they have been destroyed either by the beasts or by however brought you here. Looking around there’s nothing more, time to go out.

The only door leads you to an open room, the kitchen and living room placed together, in one of the sofas you can see someone laying down, their chest rising and falling softly, their face obscured by an old hat.

You try to be as quiet and sneaky as possible when getting back into the room “Where do you think you are going, kid?” his voice is thick with sleep but the sound is enough to make you yelp, slamming your shoulder against the door frame, the man jumps up and in a couple of strides he’s beside you “Can you more fucking careful? the stitches gonna get open and if you get an infection I ain’t risking my neck to get you meds”

He’s a bit taller than you with squared and wide shoulders, his face is stern and it seems like he’s annoyed about something, is it you? Did you anger him? You try to remember what could you have done to make him so mad but nothing comes to you, is not like you remember much, and what you do, is better to be left forgotten.

Heisenberg has seen many people look at him with fear, reverence even, but he has never been in the receiving end of a look like yours, he has to close his eyes for a second, carefully grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen, almost forcing you to take a seat in on of the wobbly chairs he owns.

“Well now that you are back with us, I can finally cook something to eat. You must be starving! I would too after the way you fought back there” he lets out a howl while he busies himself with pulling ingredients for whatever he’s cooking “I saw ya, you know? That was one hell of a show and I know about putting up good entertainment, you gave those lycans a good beating”

Lycans? So those things have names...uuuh, who would have thought.

"What's your name kid?" you get pulled out of your mind by his voice and the smell of cooking eggs, for a moment you wonder and think, that this is the time to be addressed by YOUR name "...I'm Y/N, sir"

"Cut the sir bullshit, you ain't trying to impress nobody here, you can call me Heisenberg, Karl if you wanna get my attention quickly, got it?"

"Yes...Heisenberg?"

He's rather harsh from what little you have seen of him, but he's careful when serving you breakfast, a steady hand serves you tea and makes quick work of a loaf of bread, whit that you two eat in relative silence, he eats like a wolf and that's enough to make you hide a smile.

"Once you are...better..." he's speaking between bites, eew "I'm taking you to get some new clothes, staying here ain't gonna be free, ok?" with his fork pointing at you he waits and continues without you answering "I'll have to teach you...that's gonna take time..."

"I'm a faster learner!"

Heisenberg laughs at the offended tone in your voice, taking a big gulp from his mug once he stops "I like ya kid, there's a fire in you and I respect that, we gonna get along"

It takes you almost 2 weeks to fully recover and be able to move without crying out in pain. On the day he announces that he must take off your stitches, he's kind when pulling on the thread, talking about how that same day he's taking you to the seamstress cuz he's "done" having you wear his stuff.

The seamstress in the Village seems flabbergasted when "Lord Heisenberg" comes into her house, demanding she makes you good sturdy pants and easy to move in shirts. From that sole visit is enough for people to call you "Heisenberg's assistant" whenever you are sent to the village or just went spotted by anyone. The Duke, the merchant that sometimes you have found yourself talking to, does nothing but fuel the rumor, people already fear Heisenberg on a god day, now they fear you might be spying for him.

You would be lying by saying that, Heisenberg is a normal man, he's flamboyant and loud, filled with pride, and what you can describe as...showmanship, he speaks with passion when explaining to you the ins and outs of the factory. He's always close, never breathing down your neck, just close enough to hear if you need help.

The first time you see him use his gift is the most embarrassing and awkward moment of your life.

You are working on some molds for pieces he needs to make from scratch, he taught you where you should work on that, away from whatever lurks in the lower areas of the factory. You were so engrossed in getting the mold out perfectly, tongue sticking out and heavy gloves helping you to pry open the damn thing open, you don't even jump when a hand lands on your shoulder, but you do when the ghoulish face of a corpse appears beside you.

He's running the second he hears you, a high pitched sound tearing through the noise of the machinery, he sees you bolting it towards him and a Zwei Soldat quickly catching up with you, the drill in its arm too close to your back, the moment you are close enough he pulls you towards and behind him, a metal sheet flying to the thing and beheading it in an instant.

"Kid...Kid, look at me, hey, eyes on me" you are not crying, there's no blood anywhere and nothing seems to be missing, you seem more startled than anything else, but you listen to him, concentrated on him and his voice "Y/N, it's ok kid, I'm here"

Then it happens, you let it slip. "Thanks...thanks dad"

You feel him go tense, the hands-on your shoulders shake for a second and embarrassment comes crashing down on you, you are ready for him to yell or push you away and order you to see if the mold is still useful, but he pulls you close, patting your back like you never said anything.

There are days when you can hear him talking on the phone, his voice growing irritated, and his explosive temper getting worst.

You are curled up in the crawlspace that he turned into your room, listening to him talking with someone, he sounds exasperated and nervous. This time he takes longer to come out from his room, a new cigar in his mouth and hammer over his shoulder, usually, he would tell you that he's leaving for a couple of hours, this time he's just there, tapping his foot and sparing quick glances at you.

"Get your coat, we need to leave"

That's new...he never takes you with him to wherever he goes, but you don't feel like arguing and do as he says, slipping your boots on and grabbing your coat.

Heisenberg is unusually quiet this time, only the snow crunching under your feet make enough sound to fill in the void, he takes you farther from the village and into a rundown church, you can hear new voices and the unforgettable sounds of the lycans snarling.

Inside the candlelight is soft and cast strange shadows of the people already waiting inside. There's a woman in a white dress that probably towers over you, another lady dressed in black and her covered, she sits in a corner with a creepy doll on her lap, and finally, a shy man who battles to cover himself with the torn cloth of his jacket.

"Is this why mother Miranda called us? Did you brought a new toy and never informed her? what a bad dog you are Heisenberg"

"Non of your business, Dimitrescu" Karl does everything to keep you behind him, away from the doll or the twisted man, but especially from the woman, Dimitrescu as he called her.

From where you stood, you could see how beautiful and regal she is, sitting with grace and a sarcastic smile plastered on her face. Noticing you, she moved slightly to get a better look, narrowing her eyes, making you feel small and like food. Before she can't even speak the sound of feathers caught your attention, giving Karl enough time to guide you to one of the pews, making you take a seat beside him.

The four adults greeted the new woman, the infamous mother Miranda, you have heard about her in the village and through small stories shared by the Duke, but mostly, you have heard Heisenberg curse the woman and call her every single name under the sun.

"Usually I wouldn't care for what my children do in their dominions, but, Karl, I must say I'm disappointed in you...to hide this child and avoid telling us?"

"I apologize, Miranda, the right opportunity never came" ooooh he's pissed

"I say you take his toy, Mother Miranda, and if possible, give me that lovely lady to me?" at that your gut twist uncomfortably, it's been some time since you were...addressed like that

"Excuse me?" Heisenberg cocks his head to the side, looking at Dimitrescu over his shades "Are you talking about my SON?"

"YOUR SON?! Don't make laugh, child, I can smell the sweet maiden blood running through her veins, that's a lady not one of your dirty lycans"

"And you are bitch no matter how well you dress!"

"ENOUGH!" Miranda's voice breaks them apart, everyone looking at her "Care to elaborate, Heisenberg?"

Karl takes a second to take a drag from his cigar and blow a cloud of some into the air "I found Y/N here, they fought hard to survive and I took them in, just like Alcina, and her lovely daughters...I decided it was my time to have a child of my own"

"That doesn't change the fact that you brought an outsider and didn't inform mother, and now you are trying to do what exactly? have...them...play house with you?"

"Lady Dimitrescu, that's enough" she's looking at you, mother Miranda in staring, and Heisenberg as a hand on your back, suddenly you are hyper-aware of everything, the sounds and smells, the movements each person in the room does, the way the candles flicker "I allow it, may this never happen again, Heisenberg. Next time there will be consequences"

You feel like passing out after that, the screams of Dimitrescu and the doll get drown by the ringing in your ears, everything keeping you together is Heisenberg's hand on yours cursing up a storm as he pulls you along with him.

The cold air feeling nice against your burning skin.

"Kid? I think you are ready" you are halfway through the trek back to the factory when he speaks again

"Ready for what?"

"To be introduced to the Heisenberg family true work, of course! What kind of father I would be if I don't involve you in our family's business"

You trip with your feet hearing him say that, so...he meant it? what he said in the church...that you are his son?

"Come on Y/N, I won't go easy on you because you are my kid now, quick quick"

Catching up to him is easy and you feel at peace when one of his arms wraps around you, he begins to talk about how many things he's gonna teach you and how exciting is to have a young mind to shape.

For the first time, you are eager to get back home.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #x reader #heisendad #resident evil 8 #re8 #answer stuff #request stuff #reader is a teen #trans reader

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oatmilkismylife · 3 years ago

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A Chance Encounter | Shigaraki x Reader

author’s note(s): Hey guys!! This is my first fic ever so please be nice, I would love to hear your feedback and constructive criticism! Anything helps!! I literally haven’t taken an English class in like three and a half years (STEM majors be like :P) but I wanted to give this a go!

As of right now, I’m not taking writing requests per se- but if you want to send in ideas, I will gladly consider them and write them if I feel inspired so feel free!!

summary: Reader runs into Shigaraki after he confronts Deku in the mall and accidentally spills coffee on him. (kinda in shigarakis perspective sometimes idk I’m not good at thisss)

words: 743

warnings: None / brief mention of decay

“Hey, I’m going to throw out my coffee, I’ll meet you guys in pacsun!” you call out to your friends, gesturing to the trash across the mall hallway. They gave you a quick nod, too wrapped up in a debate about which fast food chain has the best chicken nuggets to even pay much attention as they wandered into the clothing store.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head at how silly that was but nevertheless absolutely necessary to figure out. Even on your small trek to the garbage can you were confronted by one of those kiosk associates offering to straighten your hair (which you politely declined) and almost tripped over a hyper little kid riding one of those little motorized animals- completely unsupervised to make matters worse.

You whispered, “ugh brat.” And before you could even recover you were assaulted by yet another figure, this time- fully crashing into you because you hadn’t looked up from the other distraction moments ago.

You raise your gaze to meet his enraged crimson eyes when you realize the coffee you were going to throw out, is now all over this guys black tattered hoodie. You can’t help but think how eerily beautiful he looks with white shaggy hair falling out of his hood. From the way he’s looking at you, you swear he could pierce bullet holes through you but you immediately apologize, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there, I was just tripped by this kid, I-”

He cuts you off angrily grabbing your wrist, one finger lightly hovering above the others. Fully prepared to kill you, he looks into your eyes and he’s .. surprised. You’ve seen his face because he wasn’t wearing Father in public, and yet you didn’t recoil. You weren’t looking at him with the disgust and hate that most heroes and villains do, but with a concerned, almost warm look. A look not of pity or anger, but of kindness and innocent intrigue that he’s never experienced before.

“Um, can you let go of my arm?” You asked. “Listen if you’re angry about your clothes, I’d be happy to get you some new ones- my friends just went to the store over there.” You say to him with genuine kindness in your voice.

You were actually worried about him? He saw that your clothes had been ruined too and yet you extend him- a stranger, an invitation to buy new clothes. He can’t help but let his curiosity run wild about you. After what feels like hours that he was standing there staring at, shocked and holding your wrist, he finally let go.

You missed the warmth you didn’t even realize was there until his hand left tingles up your arm when he pulled away. Shigaraki felt it too, and for some odd reason he wanted to grab you back, take you with him. Instead all he said was, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this.” He didn’t like this new feeling, or did he? You would just make him weak he thought, he didn’t have time for distractions, especially when he had such big plans.

He shrugged you off and started to walk away and every bone in your body, every instinct you had, was screaming to let him go. Just let him walk away and forget it.

“Wait, please I insist!” You said lightly touching his shoulder to get his attention back. He froze underneath your touch, unsure of how to react. Why hadn’t you just let him go? It took all of his self control to not decay you at first and then to bring himself to leave. He had just decided to go and you had to make him question it. He felt his own mind telling him to focus on the league, to focus on anything else yet his feet remained planted on the ground, his eyes looking back up to you.

“At least let me buy you a coffee or something, I mean I know you didn’t have one but I just feel bad, you seem upset and now I owe you one for the hoodie.” You smiled staring at the floor.

That smile. He just couldn’t brush the feeling that it gave him, deep down. He wasn’t even admitting it to himself in the moment and he wasn’t quite sure why his lips started moving before his brain, “Fine, if you’re buying.”

feel free to reblog if you like this!! It would help me out a lot <3

Part 2

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gaycrouton · 3 years ago

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Ray of Light

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he’d actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

Alternatively; Mulder and Scully's first time after he's returned.

angst and pregnancy smut | discussions of trauma | msr | 7k | ao3 | dedicated to the wonderful @sclly

Before Mulder had been abducted, he was finally in a relationship with Scully, or at least that's what he thought of it as. They didn't use the words dating or boyfriend and girlfriend, but they spent every night together, they were intimate in every possible sense of the word, and he'd never felt more loved in his entire life.

When he returned, she was pregnant, had a new partner at work, and on his first night back she drove back to her apartment and left him alone.

Looking back, he knew she was respecting the fact he said he needed time to process everything, but she had no idea how much it added to his confusion. He was uncertain of where he stood with Scully, so he buried himself in his work since it's where he felt most secure, despite her protests. Mulder knew people thought he was being rude, hell even he did at times, but every time he looked into Scully's eyes, he saw nothing but worry and sympathy.

Yesterday he'd broken into the census bureau with Agent Doggett, only for it to be a bust. They'd been laying low at Scully's apartment ever since, and the awkward tension between them just kept mounting. He tried to think of what to say, only to end up feeling like anything he said would come across as curt, and he wanted to avoid saying something else that might hurt her. The last thing he ever wanted was him coming back from the dead just to continue making her sad.

The first thing he noticed about his apartment was that it didn't look like the apartment of a man who'd been missing for months. It was spotless. Cleaner than he'd ever seen it. It made his heart ache thinking of the Scully who was so firm in her convictions he'd come back that she had clearly spent a lot of time making the apartment look great for his return. It made him feel even worse thinking of what response she'd imagined he'd have upon seeing it, only to be met with pure apathy.

As soon as he realized the molly was dead it just felt like a cosmic kick while he was already down. It might've just been one fish that could easily be replaced for $2, but that particular fish was part of a pair Scully had given him early in their partnership when she wasn't sure what he'd like as a gift. She'd been shy and sweet when she presented the black and white duo swimming together in a bag. "These were the only two left and I didn't want to split them up." He'd put them in the tank and, while the black one blended in with the others he had, the white one always swam around and reminded him of her. Now he couldn't even have that.

Despite the lack of communication happening right now, and how much work had been put into making him feel like his space was ready for him to come back, he still found himself staying at her apartment most nights. That first night he spent alone in his place was filled with dream after dream getting tortured — saws going into his chest, his skin being pulled from his body, the pain he could still feel resonating in his bones like a phantom limb. He'd wake up every few hours to the sounds of his own screams resonating off the empty apartment walls. There was always a pause where he waited for her to roll over or for the sounds of her footsteps to rush down the hallway, but it never came. The only thing that brought him comfort was that the bed smelled like her.

It didn't matter how clean his apartment was because that was never what he was coming back to. Scully was his home, and without her, he felt lost. Yesterday he never made a move to leave and she never asked him to. He wasn't sure if he was welcome in her bed, so he purposefully stayed up later than her and passed out on her couch. As had been their rapport as of late, she didn't say anything, but he could tell from her hurt expression that he'd made the wrong decision.

Luckily he could always trust Scully to know how to be his ray of light whenever he managed to lose his footing in the darkness.

"I know how you feel," she murmured lightly while sitting next to him on the couch.

It was so out of the blue he wasn't sure what to respond. The show they'd been watching had gone to commercial break and, apparently, so had them pretending everything was normal. He turned to her, wanting her to know he was giving her his full attention.

"When I came back, I um," she paused, her fingers starting to play with the silken edge of a maternity pajama top. "I felt so out of place within my own life. I felt like I didn't know how to be myself in a world that had gone on without me."

The irony was not lost on him that what he remembered most of those few months after she came back was how frustrated he'd been with her pushing herself. She'd taken a mere week off to recover from they didn't even know what injuries, and she was demanding to work as if all was fine. Mulder recognized it as a diversion tactic, it was more comfortable to focus on work than to process trauma, but he'd gotten frustrated with her, and here he was doing the same thing. The only difference seemed to be she knew from experience it didn't help.

"It took me years to feel like I'd caught up. I still have a hard time grappling with those months I was gone, and that I'll never get that time back. All the things I might've done in that time that were robbed from me. I remember when three months passed since I'd been returned, when I'd been back as long as I'd been missing, I still didn't feel fully like myself. Every external factor was the same, it was just me having a hard time adapting."

He listened to her, entranced by her admission. When he asked how she was doing back then, he'd gotten a lot of 'fines,' and he ended up not asking anymore in fear he was prying and annoying her. To hear her speak so candidly about her experience made him want to go back in time and hug the young woman who felt like he did now. He knew he was empathizing as best he could back then, but now having experienced what it's like, he realized there was no way he could have fully understood the depth and complexity of her emotions.

Scully turned to him with a deep breath and took his hand in her own. "I couldn't imagine coming back to every aspect of my life being different. I at least had the comfort of familiarity when I returned, and I could assimilate back into my old life while trying to process my trauma. I'm sorry if I was rushing you earlier when you said you were having problems processing and figuring out how you fit in."

Her ability to articulate what he was feeling was a relief, and almost eerie. Mulder knew he should say something so she didn't feel like she was talking to a brick wall, but she was saying it better than he ever could and he had missed the sound of her voice.

"I guess what got me through your absence was imagining your return," she admitted, confirming his earlier belief about her being at his apartment which now felt like a diorama of her grief. "I hate it when you're sad, so I didn't want to imagine you that way. It was wrong of me to cling to an image of you who'd come back and react like everything is fine when I know firsthand how unrealistic of an expectation that is to meet."

Mulder knew it was a sensitive question to ask, but he wanted to know. "How did you get through it when you thought I was dead? When it didn't seem like there was a possibility of me coming back?"

Scully's hold on his hand tightened as her face crumpled slightly. He squeezed her hand and stroked the skin on the back of her hand encouragingly. "I tried not to think of how you looked laying in that field," she stated, her voice quivering before a sharp staccato inhalation.

Shit. He hadn't even thought of the fact Scully might have seen his body like that. It made sense she'd want to see it and confirm for herself, Scully was a scientist who needed proof above all else, but he'd imagined her mourning his body on an autopsy table in the comfort of her own domain. Not that she'd seen him in whatever state he was crudely discarded in.

Mulder didn't think he could ever voice to her what he would have done if the situation was reversed and he had found her body dead in a field.

He could tell from her response that it was an image that had traumatized her, something that would no doubt haunt her for the rest of her life; but she managed to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and turn to him to continue.

There would never be a moment in his life where he wasn't astounded by her strength.

"I spent a lot of time in Karen Kosseff's office, and I just tried to focus on staying alive for the baby," she said, putting her other hand on her stomach.

His attention was drawn to the hand rubbing her stomach and that familiar knot of jealousy formed in his throat, threatening to choke him. Someone else had granted her the miracle he wanted to give her and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't even know if it was his place to be upset about it or if he was overstepping. The first time she'd done IVF, when she'd asked him, he felt included — like no matter what, he'd be a part of her and the baby's life. But clearly, she did it again and it made him feel like he hadn't actually needed to be a part of the process. That his involvement wasn't expected or, even worse, truly wanted.

While their conversation had made him feel better, it was that bump underneath her clothes that made him feel like he wasn't invited to a part of her life he wanted to be in more than she knew. Mulder wanted to tell her he'd raise the baby like his own if she'd let him, but the thought of her saying no felt like the last thing he could take right now.

"You can always touch me. You know that, right?" she asked softly off his look.

His hand itched to reach out, but it stayed in his lap. "I'm glad the IVF finally worked for you," he replied, putting all his effort into smiling to show he meant it.

Smiling looked like the furthest thing from her mind. "What?" Scully replied, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What?" he repeated, confused by her confusion.

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as she bit it in concentration, a look of pain passing her face. "Mulder," she stated hesitantly. "Do you really believe this baby isn't yours?" she asked, hurt she was trying to hide leaking through her words.

Mulder shook his head, dumbstruck. "How could it be?"

"You were right," she shrugged. "I just couldn't give up on a miracle."

"I thought the in-vitro didn't work?" he replied.

"You do remember all the sex we were having before you were taken, right?" she deadpanned. "I trust you got the birds and the bees talk?"

"It's mine," he whispered in shock.

"It's yours," she confirmed with so much conviction his knees would have given out if he was standing. Then, with a layer of vulnerability, she added softly, "You didn't really think…"

Mulder's mind was reeling, but he could still tell she was hurt by his unspoken implication that she'd move on so quickly after how long it had taken them to get together, but he just hadn't known.

"I thought you tried in-vitro again. I thought maybe you asked someone else," he answered weakly, the statement out loud sounding ridiculous to his own ears.

"Who else do you think I'd ask? Skinner?" she asked.

He wasn't going to admit it, but he'd considered it. When he was in the hospital he saw how protective Skinner was of her, how close they seemed to have gotten since he'd been gone. Retrospectively he could see that they likely didn't have many people they could turn to when they were looking for him, so it made sense they would have gotten closer.

"I thought maybe an anonymous donor," he answered with a grimace.

"I could barely get out of bed when you were taken, let alone decide it would be a great time to have a baby," she replied. "Though I will say, I'm glad I had a part of you with me to get me through this. I'm not sure how I would have handled it if I wasn't so concerned with keeping myself healthy for the baby. If I even could have."

Mulder couldn't handle thinking about that, so he focused on her delicate hand resting in his own, the hands that had healed him in more ways than he could count. He pulled it up to his lips and kissed her fingers, inhaling the smell of her lotion as he reveled in the feeling of her skin on his lips once more. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I-I just thought since it didn't work that time and then I saw you pregnant that maybe it was my fault it failed in the first place. I didn't mean to make you feel like I resented you. I never did for a second. I was just depressed that the life I'd been wanting for you and I was happening without me."

Her fingers tightened around his as he pressed their joined hands to his heart. "You're here now," she replied with an encouraging smile.

For the first time since being back, he felt the heaviness weighing him down start to fade away. The fog had lifted and he could see the life he'd actually come back to — one where the love of his life was carrying his child. Not a life that had gone on without him, but one that desperately needed him there.

He looked down at her swollen stomach and felt a smile break out on his face. Scully was pregnant with their baby. The words didn't even feel real. It felt too good to be true. She tugged his hand towards her and brought it to her stomach, pressing it against her bulge while splaying out his fingers. When Mulder looked up, she was smiling back at him and he realized how much he'd missed seeing that. He had never touched a pregnant woman's stomach before, and he was shocked at how firm it was. "What does it feel like?" he asked, astonished.

"At times, lovely, but most of the time I'm exhausted, feel disgusting, and look like an elephant," she chuckled.

He looked up at her and took note of how long and shiny her hair looked and how she truly exemplified that pregnancy 'glow' he always heard people talk about. She was absolutely radiant.

"You're beautiful, Scully," he murmured firmly. "Always."

He watched as tears immediately pooled in her eyes and her lip quiver. "Hey, hey, hey," he replied, scooting over and wrapping an arm around her to pull her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into the crook of his neck, pressing kisses to his skin after littering it with her tears. She smelled like cocoa butter and her skin felt unimaginably smooth. "Are you okay?" he murmured into her shoulder.

Scully pulled away slightly with a chuckle and shook her head. "Yeah, I've just been so emotional because of the hormones and I've hated how things were between us and I'm just so happy you're here," she explained, her voice quivering near the end. Without a moment's hesitation, he closed the gap between them, pressing his mouth to hers as if the mere act could be his benediction — a plea for an absolution only she could give.

She met him with equal fervor and for the first time in days, he was home, he finally felt alive.

It was different, kissing her while she was pregnant. It took more maneuvering than he was used to, but he liked it. Every time her stomach grazed his, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and overwhelming affection for her. "I missed you," she whispered against his lips between kisses. "So much."

He let his hands roam through her hair as they kissed, amazed at how thick it was and how the longer strands felt weaving like water in and out of his fingers. Mulder was surprised at the tonal change, but he figured it made sense. They deserved this little piece of heaven after the hell they'd just been through. Being in her arms was exactly where he wanted to be.

Somewhere between Scully pulling on his shirt and their legs shifting against each other, they ended up with Scully laying on her back on the couch while Mulder hovered above her. He was being mindful of not putting any weight on her stomach as he began kissing one of the tendons of her neck, smiling as he felt her pulse thrum under his tongue. A shiver went down his spine as he felt her rake her long fingernails sensually down his back. He moved to the other side of her neck and kissed the vibrations of her moan.

The moment he registered something tickle his inner thigh, she already began palming him through the front of his grey sweatpants, eliciting a hearty groan. He felt his eyes flutter shut in ecstasy as she deftly moved her wrist, stroking him firmly through the fabric. "Scully," he rasped between clenched teeth, burrowing his face into her neck while pumping against her hand.

"Mulder," she rasped.

He pulled away to look at her and watched as she turned away and coughed. Realizing her rasp was out of a lack of breath and not lust, he sat back on his legs out of concern he'd been pressing on her. "Are you okay?" he panted.

She reached out for his arm and he pulled her up into a sitting position. "Yeah," she nodded with a smile. "The baby just smashes my lungs if I'm on my back for too long."

"Do you want to stop?' he asked, rubbing her arms.

"Absolutely not," she replied firmly before she all but pulled him off his feet and led him by the hand to the bedroom.

"What they say about pregnant women's sex drives must be true then, huh?" he teased, following behind her with his own bounding footsteps.

Upon entering her room she turned to him with a mock-severe look, "You have no idea."

Her intensity and the hunger in her eyes made his cock twitch. Mulder pulled her to him, pressing his arousal to her stomach. "I think I can help with that," he murmured.

He brought his hands up in between them and started undoing the buttons of her nightshirt, noting how her nipples were protruding against the fabric. When he'd done research after she initially brought up in-vitro and having a baby, he learned about how much more sensitive women's bodies became. Out of curiosity, he let one finger stray from his mission to flick one nipple teasingly.

His eyes widened with the intensity of her gasp. "Sorry, my breasts are sensitive," she chuckled breathily, confirming his suspicions.

"I didn't even know that was a possibility for you," he teased, knowing he'd made her come from breast play alone before. Not wanting to neglect the other side, he let the back of his index finger graze over the other pebbled nipple and watched as it seemed to become impossibly harder, her breath almost becoming labored from just that.

This was going to be fun.

When the last button was undone, he raked his fingers up her body in between the flaps of fabric. He gently touched the darker line that was running up the middle of her stomach, only pausing to lightly touch her now protruding belly button.

She laughed huskily and did a little pivot sway away from him. "That tickles," she chastised playfully.

He chuckled along with her as he went to her shoulders, sliding his hands under the fabric so that it slid down her arms behind her, fluttering down in a heap at her feet. The sight of her standing shirtless while pregnant in front of him was enough to take his breath away.

It was initially almost imperceivable, but he saw her hands instinctively go to cover herself, only to hesitate and join self-consciously in front of her stomach. At that moment it struck him that it hadn't been a one-off comment in the living room: she really felt insecure about herself. She was trying to hide it, her trust for him feeling like the greatest honor, but he could still see it in her demeanor change. "You have no idea how sexy you are," he praised when he caught her eye.

"Mulder, you don't ha-" she began with a slight shake of her head.

"Don't," he whispered. Mulder raised his hands and cupped her jaw in his palms, coaxing her to look at him fully and see his sincerity. "I love your body. You're carrying our baby, and I'm in awe of you. Scully, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my entire life, and that most certainly hasn't changed. I don't want to see you doubt yourself."

He was glad to see he hadn't lost the ability to make her blush since he'd been gone. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were misty again. "Thank you," she mouthed, her voice a ghost of a whisper. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, each cheek, and the tip of her nose before finally resting on her lips, hoping to convey his earnest adoration.

Scully's tongue slid into his mouth to deepen the kiss as her hands wrapped around him, sliding up under his shirt to play with the skin of his lower back. His hands slid away from her jaw and one entangled itself in her hair while the other reached around to cup the back of her neck.

However, where he anticipated meeting the slightly raised line of where he knew her little implant scar was, he felt something that felt significantly more raised. His eyes shot open as he pulled away, all other thoughts temporarily forgotten. Scully had a slightly chagrined expression on her face as her eyes tentatively peeked open.

He didn't wait before walking around her, gently moving her hair aside so he could have a better look at the back of her neck. The ghost of the white little scar he was anticipating had suddenly become paired with a raised, red, and angry scar next to her old one, only this one was far newer and deeper.

This was one of his favorite spots on her body. The tiny little scar was a reminder of her strength. He liked to kiss and touch the spot he knew held the miracle that helped keep her alive. Seeing this new wound right next to it made his heart race and his body go numb. "D-did someone cut out your chip?" he asked. Immeasurable guilt started to fill him at the knowledge that someone hurt her while he wasn't there. That someone tried to take something so important. Would her cancer come back?

She turned around quickly and reached up to mirror the centering touch he'd just given her as she cupped his face with her hands, her fingers gently scratching the fine hairs near his ears.

"No. No one tried to cut out my chip," she replied firmly.

"But did they inadvertently do so? What happened?" he asked, falling into his reflexive habit of becoming one-track-minded where Scully's safety was concerned.

"It's still there. I had them x-ray me when I got to the hospital. I promise, I'm okay," she pressed. "I can fill you in on all the cases you missed later, okay?"

There must've been something on his face that made her realize he'd be focused on it until he got a little more assurance than that. With a sigh, she stroked the skin of his cheeks and stated, "I initially had a hard time letting myself trust Doggett so I went on a case alone and some cultists tried to make me a host for their God. I'm not going to go into details right now because it's gross and I'm trying to have sex right now, but Doggett found me and I had to have him cut something out of me because we were running out of time. I promise it's not as bad as it looks."

"Doggett did that to you?" he repeated, the image of the man cutting her burning into his mind.

She rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "I think you missed the part where I said I told him to. He saved my life, Mulder." She moved her hands down to rest on his chest, roaming his muscles with clear appreciation. Then she looked up at him with big eyes while teasingly pouting her lip. "I don't want to talk about Doggett or cases right now. I've missed you so much and I thought about this for months. Please don't make me wait anymore. I promise I'm okay and I'll fill you in on everything later. Just be here with me," she pleaded.

Mulder could never say no to her when she asked like that, so despite his curiosity, he smiled and nodded. They were in no rush, they had plenty of time. He'd ask questions tomorrow.

Tonight was for her.

"Okay," he replied, tucking an errant hair behind her ear.

"Good," she smirked triumphantly, a devilish gleam twinkling in her eye. "I don't want to be the only one half-naked anymore," she demanded.

His hands slid down her body and he smirked when he felt goosebumps arise in their wake. "You're right, you should be fully naked," he replied, tugging on the elastic waistband of her pajama pants. She let him slide the silk shorts down her legs, no underwear much to his delight, and she was visibly shivering in excitement as he palmed her bare hips in his hands as he stood back up.

Not wanting to dismiss her wishes though, he quickly rid himself of his shirt and his sweatpants so they were both standing nude. "Get on the bed," he commanded lowly.

She hummed in appreciation and crawled onto the bed, the roundness of her stomach visible between her thighs as she made her way up to the headboard and her arousal glistening prominently. She was so wet it was already leaking onto her inner thighs and he felt proud to have been the cause. His erection that had weaned when they were talking about her injury had sprung back in full force upon seeing her fully naked again. God, he missed her.

Despite his arousal and excitement, he couldn't help but feel robbed of the opportunity to see these developments occur over time. Mulder wished he could have seen her body slowly change and develop as new life grew inside her. Suddenly he painfully related to her earlier sentiment regarding feeling indignant about the time that had been taken and all the moments he was robbed of. He wanted to hold her hair back when she had morning sickness, he wanted her to jump his bones anytime she wanted because of her hormones, and he wanted to be there every time she had a moment of doubt that told her she was anything other than beautiful so he could tell her how wrong she was.

They'd made love quite a lot in their short time together between her coming to his bed that night he got back from England and his being abducted, but as far as intimate relationships went, it was all still relatively new. He had only just started feeling confident he was proficient in the body and pleasure of Dana Scully. He'd been cataloging every freckle, memorizing every moan and gasp in the hopes of recreating them, and now he felt out of practice. Her body had changed and he was determined tonight to worship her and become reacquainted with her. He wanted to know the intricacies of Dana Scully both inside and out.

Mulder wanted to take his time. Crawling onto the bed after her, he approached her sitting form and kissed her while on his hands and knees. He knew there were going to be many new pregnancy-related changes, but now he was going to look out for any new scars or injuries that happened since they were last together. He just wanted to know so he could start to create a new future. Her skin was pale and delicate, her veins pale and blue underneath her skin like the blue lines on pulpy parchment. He wanted to use his tongue to write odes on her skin, he wanted to fill the spaces between the lines with 'I love you's, pink scrapes of his stubble, hickies left in his mouth's wake — he wanted her body to be a diary of his love. It was his goal to replace the memory of harsh, cruel hands and evil intentions and leave behind nothing but reassurances of his love and affection for her.

He pulled back, enjoying the way her body leaned forward instinctively to keep them connected, and watched as a content expression crossed her face. Her eyes fluttered open and she grinned impishly at him.

"What positions work best for you?" he asked.

"I don't know," she replied in amusement. "I've never had pregnancy sex before."

"We're like virgins," he joked.

"Oh absolutely," she deadpanned, placing a hand on her severely pregnant stomach for emphasis.

Mulder snickered before he maneuvered onto his back, his cock bobbing in the air emphatically. He was adjusting himself when he felt Scully's knee come to nestle against his hip, her other going over him so she was sitting on his lap. Pausing his movements, he watched as she grabbed his erection and brought it closer to herself. However, instead of easing up on her knees and guiding him inside of her like he thought she was doing, she rocked back and forth while pressing his cock against her folds, rubbing his head against her clit with each movement.

"Fuck," he moaned, his hips inadvertently snapping up from pleasure and causing her to moan at the unexpected contact.

She continued her ministrations until her knees had his hips in a death grip and her movements were becoming erratic as her orgasm built. Mulder watched as she lifted herself up, but he pivoted his hips before she could sink onto him.

"Wait," he rasped.

"Mulder," she whined, dragging out his name as she pouted.

The sight amused him, and he nearly gave in. "There's something I need to do first," he explained.

"Do you have to do it right no-"

"Scoot up here and grab the headboard," he instructed.

Her pout quickly turned into a smile and an enthusiastic, "Oh!"

Doing as he instructed, she made her way up his body until she was straddling his face. "It's weird not being able to look down and watch you," she remarked once she braced her hands against the headboard.

Utilizing the way her stomach eclipsed his head underneath her to his advantage, he latched his mouth onto her clit without warning and added suction. "Shit!" she gasped, her body jerking in surprise. He reached his arms around her thighs so she was locked in place as he ran his tongue along her seam. She was so wet the mere contact had already drenched the lower half of his face. Her labia was swollen red from arousal and if her movements a moment ago were any indication, she was close to coming already.

He plunged his tongue inside of her and curved it so he was pressing against her inner wall, alternating between the pointed tip of his tongue and the flat of it when it was relaxed. He licked his lips and savored the taste of her. It was distinguishably Scully, but slightly different, sweeter, than he remembered. Even though his arms were around her thighs, she was still squirming as best she could. Knowing going back to her clit was what was going to send her over the edge, he swirled around it teasingly. Once, twice, then he latched on with suction while flicking the pointed edge of his tongue mercilessly against her clit.

A gasp tore from her lungs and was immediately followed by her panting his name with so much reverence it sounded like a prayer. Mulder felt her thighs start shaking and quivering against him with the power of her orgasm, and he didn't stop until she jerked away from him and placed a hand on his shoulder to signal she was too sensitive.

Scully adjusted herself so she was back in her original position, only stopping once to give him a deep kiss on the mouth. Mulder was too focused on what she was going earlier to notice much more, but now that she was sitting on his lap in the glow of the lamp, he realized her breasts were fuller now. Sitting up without dislodging her, he brought his hands up to cup them, playing with their weight in his hands. Scully's eyes shut in pleasure as her head rolled to her shoulder, leaning forward into his touch.

Mulder bent his head down and flicked his tongue over a pebbled nipple before taking the darkened areola into his mouth and sucking. "Mmm," she moaned, squirming against him in desperation for any contact. His cock was grinding into the flesh of her ass as she ground her clit desperately into his pubic bone.

He let go of one nipple to take a few deep breaths before moving onto the other one to give it the same attention. One hand was resting on the curve of her hip, stabilizing Scully, while the other rubbed her other breast and sternum. Mulder was so focused on playing with her, that he didn't fully register her grab his forearm so she could bring his hand to her face until he felt her lips clamp around his thumb. He felt his cock throb at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth sucking on his thumb.

Mulder released her breast with an audible suction as he looked up at her. If he let himself, he could have come from the look in her eyes alone. Scully kept her gaze even as she swirled her tongue around his thumb lewdly. He playfully bent it in her mouth and watched as her lips opened into a breathy chuckle. Pulling his hand away, he lowered it so he could spread her saliva around both her nipples, blowing a stream of cool air on them to make her shiver. He watched her nipples tighten in front of him before resting his hand on her inner thigh so he could swirl his thumb around her swollen clit.

"I want you," she gasped as she swiveled her hips to compliment his ministrations.

"Like this?" he asked.

"No," she mused. Then with displeasure added, "My knees are starting to hurt."

"Try laying on your side," he suggested, easing himself up as she got off him.

She laid down and faced the wall, presuming he was going to spoon up behind her. "What're you doing?" she asked when she saw him at her knees.

"Face the other way," he replied, straddling her bottom leg while bringing the other to rest against his hip. This way she could lay down on her side and wouldn't have to exert herself as much.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked.

While she was still laying on her side, she was pivoting slightly so she could face him. "Yeah," she replied while rubbing her top leg against his encouragingly.

He reached down and grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip tauntingly between her folds before slowly easing himself into her. He watched her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her, but all he saw was an expression of content bliss. "You feel so good," she sighed, tilting her hips to give him room to go deeper.

"Jesus, Scully," he groaned in ecstasy as her walls clamped down around him like a vice.

One of her hands went to one of his legs and she began grasping at him, seemingly just wanting to touch him in any way she could. "More," she demanded.

As much as he wanted this to last for as long as possible, he was in no condition to deny her. He began pumping his hips against her, feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him as he slid in and out of her. Her breasts were bouncing tantalizingly and he watched as she brought her other hand up and began cupping herself, moving from one breast to the other haphazardly.

Leaning forward slightly, Mulder let his hand roam across her stomach, feeling the way it moved with each thrust. It was an odd experience, but insanely erotic at the same time. He repositioned his knees a little bit so he could angle his hips to try to hit her g-spot. Mulder had been pretty proficient at finding it before, but he felt his spongy head rubbing against the grooves of her front walls and he hadn't heard her telltale gasp yet.

He rocked his hips a little differently, trying a little farther back, and he saw her body tense as her breathing hitched. There it is. "Please don't stop," she begged breathlessly, her hands moving to grab fistfuls of the bedspread. He picked up the pace, hitting the same area repeatedly with the tip of his cock while sounds of pleasure flew out of her mouth mindlessly. "Yes. Need. Please. So good. More. Mulder," variants of those words at different volumes and tones with intermittent moans.

He felt a coil start to tighten in his abdomen and he knew he was close. Scully was too as she reached around her stomach to rub her clit with her middle and ring fingers. "That's it, Scully," he praised, locking eyes with her while their mutual bliss grew.

With one quick snap of his hips, he watched as her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open as her body trembled with her orgasm. It was clearly taking a conscious amount of effort to keep her eyes open, and he was grateful for it because seeing her come undone was the single most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen. The visual combined with the feeling of her spasming around him caused him to come right after her.

Scully stroked his hair as he caught his breath. "You mean so much to me," she mused out loud, her hand moving to cup his jaw while her thumbs carefully brushed over the scars on his face.

He still felt self-conscious about them, even though he knew it was silly and Scully herself said they'd heal soon. Trying to ignore his insecurities, he bent down to kiss her before he moved so that he was spooning her from behind, pulling a light blanket over them as he put his arm around her.

"Thank you, Scully," he murmured into her hair.

"I think you're the one who deserves the thank you. My knees would have given out a long time ago," she replied, placing her hand on top of the hand he'd placed on her stomach.

He chuckled lightly before shaking his head. "I wasn't talking about that, though I think you deserve some appreciation anyway," he remarked, kissing the crown of her head.

"Then what for?" she yawned.

"Everything," he stated simply.

He felt her about to say something but he interrupted her with a gasp when he felt something press against his palm. "Did you feel that?" she replied excitedly, her hand pressing into his and moving it slightly.

"Was that-"

"The baby kicked," she replied, the smile audible in her tone.

"Did it hurt?" he asked, it felt pretty strong against his hand, he couldn't imagine the internal version of that.

"Not really. It's oddly comforting unless it's on my bladder," she replied. "It's probably going to happen again."

They both laid in silence together for a moment in anticipation, only to simultaneously disrupt it with excited laughs when the baby kicked again. "That's amazing," he replied in awe.

"It really is," she mused in kind.

"Do you know what it reminds me of?" he asked.

"You better not say-"

"- the movie Alien," he replied, smiling when he heard her amused sigh.

He rubbed her stomach gently, both to touch Scully and to start trying to connect with the kid. "Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" he asked.

"Maybe, but I won't tell," she lilted cheekily.

"That's evil, Scully," he tsked, nudging her lightly with his knee. "I guess it doesn't matter. No matter what, the minute their little arms can hold up a bat I'm going to teach them how to play ball. You can help me since you've received top-notch training from the best," he declared.

Instead of responding, she turned so that she could look at him, and he realized she was crying. "Hey, hey. It's okay," he stammered, moving to stroke her hair and wipe away her tears.

"I'm so relieved you're here. I missed you so much and I was so scared I was going to have to do this alone," she sobbed, clutching his hand like he was going to disappear again if she let go.

Mulder felt his throat start to tighten in sympathy and he held her tighter while kissing her temple. He'd suffered so much when he was taken, but so had she. They were only ever going to get through the emotional scars if they were together. "I'm here, Scully, I promise. I'm yours forever."

#x files #x files fanfic #msr #mulder #scully #fanfic #pregnancy #three words #angst

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calpops · 4 years ago

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mercy | a.i.

Ashton’s life hangs precariously under fabricated accusations and a blade. The only one championing for mercy is the daughter of the man about to swing the sword.

1.5k words

my masterlist | feedback and reblogs mean the world

A tense silence cut through the growing crowd. The stone dais beneath Ashton’s knees scorched, the sun was blazing above, merciless as it beat down and washed everything in a menacing glow. It was the first time in weeks that he had seen the sun, felt the breeze on his skin and took in fresh air. It would also be the last.

His time in the dungeons was bleak, the one sliver of light pooling in from the near endless line of cells doing little to warm the damp holding. The thin pants he wore were ragged, worn out in the knees and falling apart at the seams. His wrists were chaffed, the cell they kept him in seemingly not enough, shackles kept him bound for days. An authoritative voice boomed through the quiet crowd, a portrayal of crimes Ashton had not committed falling from the king’s lips. A punishment of death giving gasps to the commoners. A shiver ran up his spine and made him quiver.

He finally looked up from the stones. Pangs of pain shot through his forehead as his eyes found the light, still not used to it after such time in the dark. He squinted past the glare, trying to find one last thing of beauty to fixate on. The castle stood tall against the light, foreboding though it was washed in a golden glow. The tallest tower loomed over the crowd, the window at the very top wide open. A shadow danced past, a lurid figure that kept Ashton’s attention. The king’s speech kept on, lies rolling off his tongue like scripture. The people bought every word. The gasps of horror they once bestowed upon the prisoner and punishment turning to an uproarious cheer.

Ashton tuned it out, kept peering up at the window in the tower. The shadowy figure coming in and out of his hazy vision. With the blade of a sword hanging over his thread of life he decided he’d rather not see the swing coming. The shadow disappeared again, seconds ticked by before the figure broke through the dark, a princess taking its place. Ashton wasn’t sure if he was hallucinating, if the deprivation of food and water ruined his sanity, but he swore she found his gaze. He could almost feel the sadness in her eyes. He was sure she frowned. But she fluttered away before he could take a second glance.

“For high crimes committed against the crown, the punishment shall be given by my hand,” the king announced.

Ashton went slack jawed but quickly recovered. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and looked back down to the stones. The princess was gone, even her shadow had abandoned him. Ashton heard the sword being pulled from its sheath. He could only imagine the priceless steel it was forged from. It was surely more valuable than his life.

“Any last words?” the king asked but the sudden eruption in the crowd would have made them fall on deaf ears.

Ashton had no words. His words would have no one to hear them. He kept quiet. Hung his head down low and took in one last breath. Eyes slipped shut. He heard the arc of the sword but felt softness where the blade should have hit him. The crowd quieted again. Instead of cheers he heard pleas.

“Mercy.”

His eyes sprang open, his senses came back to life. He recognized skin on his, supple and sweet. The arms of a woman thrown around his neck, her body pressing against his protectively. She smelled of honey and lilacs, intoxicatingly sweet after breathing in the mold riddled air of the dungeons. Ashton was still in his shock, on his knees as if a statue. He frantically tried to take in the rest of the world; from the astonished crowd to the woman clinging to him, to the guards swarming the dais with weapons pulled and the king with his blade still in the air.

“Father, please,” the woman begged and Ashton all but collapsed at the sudden realization. The princess held him. “Mercy.”

Mumblings cut through the crowd. Mercy was repeated in hushed whispers and confused utterings. Ashton’s vision was blurry but he blinked back the haze, swallowed down the burn in his throat and found his movement. His hands clenched as they felt silk. While he expected the princess to flinch away from his touch she only came closer, desperately keeping him in her hold, arms secure around his neck.

“Seize him,” the king commanded but the princess was having none of his orders.

She slid beneath his arms, now stuck between him and the shackles binding his hands together. The guards about to storm fell short, suddenly not knowing what to do. To get to him would mean getting to the princess first.

“If you take his head you take mine with it,” she declared.

Ashton shivered, the words were so powerful he felt ready to drop. No one had ever taken such a stance against the king. Let alone a woman who shared his blood.

“Enough of this foolishness. He’s a criminal.”

“He saved my life!” the princess cried, her voice carrying across the crowd and to the castle. He knew her words would reach beyond, from the crowd to the markets to the lowlands, over the sea and to Ashton’s own home kingdoms away. “Do you really mean to execute the hero that saved your only heir?”

Ashton turned and the princess swayed with his motion. Her hold on him only strengthened. Her hair blew in a subtle breeze, the tresses soft against Ashton’s cheek. He found the king, saw the shine of the blade he had yet to drop under the sun.

“What?” the king asked and though he did not fully drop the sword he lowered it, the threat now hanging idly by his side. “Stand down,” he told the guards with swords drawn and archers with bows readied. “Explain yourself, criminal.”

Ashton stayed quiet. He knew his words would fall flat. He knew the king would poke holes in his story. Nothing he said would be enough to get him off his knees.

“During the attempted siege,” the princess spoke up instead. Ashton shuddered at the memory of that night.

He had fallen in line with his army. Followed orders from his own king’s lips and stormed the castle that stood tall in front of him. He didn’t lead the way to the princess’ tower but he wound up in her chambers.

“He stopped them,” she continued and the short explanation was enough to intrigue the king. His eyebrow shot up and the grip on his sword loosened. “The men in my chambers. He stopped them. He saved me.”

As soon as he realized who’s chambers they were in Ashton knew the men’s intentions. As they dragged her from behind the curtains he felt his stomach turn. Without hesitating he drew his sword. It took three motions for him to save her life. One cut. One punch. One shove. And then it was only he that stood in the chambers of the princess with the broken door as the guards finally found their way to her side.

The princess slightly pulled away from him but kept her hold around his neck. Her eyes met his fully, regret and pain flickering across her face. Her voice lowered, her words meant only for Ashton. “Thank you.”

Ashton was flustered and couldn’t find the proper words to respond. He wished he could’ve said something to her that night but the guards pulled him away too soon. He didn’t know what she said to them, how she explained the dying men on the ground. But he ended up in chains rather than his grave that night.

“One good deed does not erase his crimes,” the king announced, the hesitation and intrigue that once captured him suddenly vanishing.

“Does it not deserve a pardon? Spare his life for the life he saved.”

Ashton shut his eyes, the bargaining on his behalf overwhelming. He had not so much as heard the word pardon since his time in the dungeons. Only execution and other choice words from keepers who more so grunted than spoke.

As the crowd absorbed the shocking revelations and waited for a deliberation Ashton tensed. Every muscle in his body tightened. His hands splayed out on the silk of her dress, wanting to feel one last touch of softness before his final blow.

Instead of drawing his last breath it caught in the back of Ashton’s throat as he heard the king’s sword slide back into its sheath. His eyes opened once more and found the king’s pointed stare.

“For the life you saved yours will not be taken today,” he promised amongst the new reactions of the crowd. “But your crimes cannot go unpunished,” he continued and a wicked twist of a smirk claimed his face. “Bring him to the fighting pit holding cells. He’ll spend the rest of his life fighting for the crown he wronged.”

Before either Ashton or the princess could react they were pulled apart. Honey and lilac leaving his senses. Silk and softness drifting farther and farther away from him. She went in the arms of several guards, kicking and thrashing. He went with only one, solemnly following as a blade tipped into his back. A lifetime fighting for the rest of his life against other imprisoned men was not mercy, Ashton realized, rather wishing the blade had done its job. He knew he had no chance of actual mercy in the fighting pits, he would be thrown in with hardened criminals who faced years of training and cut throat killer instincts. Some men fought for glory, some for money, some for freedom. Ashton knew he would not be given a chance at any. He would fight for his life and nothing more.

“I’ll save you,” the princess swore as she was torn away, down the dais and into the crowd. Back to her tower.

Ashton wanted to believe her. He wanted to hold onto hope for her, for his life. He didn’t know if he could. He didn’t know if she could keep her promise. He didn’t know if he would ever even see her again.

Part 2??

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#Ashton Irwin #5sos #5 seconds of summer #Ashton Irwin blurbs #5sos blurbs #Ashton Irwin imagines #5sos imagines #ashton irwin angst #5sos angst #royal!sos #ashton irwin x you #ashton irwin x reader #5sos x you #5sos x reader #Ashton Irwin au #5sos au #fighter!ash

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years ago

Text

all gone, all gone, all gone

part 4: well, no, i don't feel lighter

my crackfic is back, y'all!! and here to break my 3rd-chapter curse, in which every fic i've ever written ever, i've given up after exactly the 3rd chapter. hopefully the amnesia fic and the 5+1 can follow suit. i wanted to post something for thomastair week/alastair appreciation day, and this doesn't fully fit but i have too many WIPs and this was the closest thing. I've written most of part 5, which has some great thomastair action, so maybe i'll try to post that tonight as well

content warnings: suicide attempt, magical manipulation, implications of domestic violence

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist | AO3

They will never help you. Not even your sister takes your side, not in many months, years even. Do you think they would take you back now, like this? They preferred you floating dead in the Thames than fighting beside them even before I got my hands on you. They would use you and discard you in seconds. You are nothing to them, you never had been. Do you think your own mother would take you back knowing what you’ve done?

Alastair was clean again, free again. Those were the first words Belial had said to him after giving him a second chance. They repeated in his head now, deep in battle with the people he’d betrayed, the people who would betray him without hesitation. The people he should hold no loyalty towards.

But something else played in his head as well: a memory. He was 11, maybe 12, his sister slightly younger. They were playing hide and seek in the forest beyond Cirenworth. Alastair knew it was because his father was drunk and angry, and his mother had told him to get his sister out of the house. He was worried that she would get hurt attempting to calm him down, but Cordelia wasn’t. She was happy, she was laughing. She had no idea that anything could be wrong. She was elated for her brother to be playing with her. She wanted to run around and pick berries and eat them next to the lake a mile from their house.

He held tightly to the memory, as if it were a street he was sprinting down and if he made a single turn, he would never be able to find it again. It was the last thing he thought of before Belial returned to him, and it was a message he easily understood: this was the reason he was loyal to her, even when she betrayed him.

He had been so focused on his anger, his death wish, all of his own pain and heartbreak that he’d lost sight of what had sustained him all of his years: his sister. He survived on the knowledge that whatever happened to him, whatever abysmal fate was before him, his sister could have better. She deserved better. He could give it to her in whatever way possible.

He’d become distracted in his own pain, and Belial had preyed on that. Now, Alastair understood. It didn’t matter if Belial killed him or if he was sent away to the Basilias to waste away for the rest of his days or if he was stripped of his marks and never allowed to see his family again as long as Cordelia walked away in one piece.

Belial twirled Cortana in the air. “Good thing we have another Carstairs to wield it. Take care of her.” The blade flew into Alastair’s grasp. Cordelia winced and Lucie shrieked, charging towards Belial. They locked each other in a battle of magicks, but she wouldn’t last long, not against a Prince of Hell.

Alastair thought back to that memory, to the sound of her shrieks of laughter, of the flashes of deep, dark red hair between the trees as he chased her. He would rather die a thousand agonizing deaths than hurt her again. His mind told him that it was illogical, but he knew that it was correct. “You always wanted to be a hero, isn’t that what you said?” She looked hurt and confused, but more than anything, terrified. She needed to understand. There was only so much he could do; she needed to believe. “Do you believe you are a merciful hero?”

Realization flickered in her eyes of that memory from many years ago. “I try to be.”

Alastair couldn’t throw a sword and expect it to land safely in Cordelia’s grasp and without any demonic interception, nor did he wish to be within slashing distance of his sister with Belial in his head. Instead, he threw the sword upward.

Cordelia held out her hand and the blade flew into it, just as it had back in Devon. It fit firmly into Cordelia’s grasp just as Lucie collapsed.

“What-” Belial began. Alastair felt himself lifted into the air by an invisible hand around his neck. “-did you do?” Before he could answer, Cordelia started to move forward. The grip around his throat tightened and he couldn’t stop the strangled sound that followed. “Move another inch and I’ll snap his pretty little neck,” he warned. Cordelia froze.

“You should- have killed me-” Alastair choked out. “After Thomas.”

“You tricked me.”

“You wanted me- to give up. Should have known- I’m a talented- actor.” He could feel himself getting lightheaded attempting to speak, sacrificing the little air that he was still able to breathe.

“You think you’re so brilliant-”

“No. You’re- a fool. You- miscalculated.” He heard a shout down the corridor. If Cordelia was still holding Cortana when James arrived, there would be no way for Belial to win. Now was his only chance.

He heard a shriek as he flew through the air, colliding with a brick wall in a sickening crunch. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground. He opened his eyes just in time to watch Belial disintegrate at Cortana’s blade.

The world was blurry, and everything hurt. His body, but also - him. He was free. He was dying, but he was free.

Each breath hurt more and more, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He had at least several broken bones and a concussion, in addition to broken ribs and any internal injuries. He attempted to sit up but the bit of effort made his vision go black. Perhaps more than a concussion.

Suddenly, his sister's face was above him. "Stay with me," she begged. "Please, I need you. Please, hold on. Everything will be okay. We'll get you to the Institute and they will heal you and then we will figure out the rest. Please, I need you. I'm so sorry. I love you. I can't do this without you. Please, hold on, for me."

She should not be apologizing, he thought. I was the one who left her.

He tried. He tried to hold on. He had brief memories of the carriage riding, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Stay with me, she repeated.

I will, he tried to tell her, but no words came.

Then, he saw nothingness. The emptiness with which he was so familiar.

Then, he woke. He was in the infirmary. His whole body ached. He felt his stomach lurch as he remembered all that had happened the past two weeks.

Cordelia was sitting in a daze, not fully asleep, but not fully awake.

"I suppose this whole ordeal means that I am either very hard to kill or very bad at dying," he said weakly, startling her out of her stupor.

She glared at him. "Don't joke about such things! I would smack you were you not injured. I still might yet." She hurried to him and embraced him tightly. His body ached at her pull but he did not comment.

"How long has it been?"

"Three days since the fight."

"Is Lucie okay?"

She nodded. "It took her a bit to recover, but she's alright. There were other injuries, but somehow we all made it out in one piece."

"I'm so sorry, Cordelia," he said quietly.

"Shh, don't start that. It's alright. I just-" Her breath hitched for a moment. "I wish I had been able to see how much pain you were in. I wish I could have helped."

He shook his head. "No, I wouldn't have accepted it." He reached to cup her face in his hand but realized that his wrists were bound to restraints. Of course. He'd worked for Belial. He'd carried out unspeakable deeds for him. He'd kidnapped Thomas, even if he had freed him as well.

"They- they said they had to, that until you woke and they could assess the situation it would be necessary. I-"

"It's okay," he told her. "I understand."

"What are you going to tell them? About how... about what happened with Belial?"

He exhaled. "The truth. I will simply tell them the truth."

* * *

The Consul was apprehensive about allowing Alastair to take the Mortal Sword so soon after waking from his injuries, but he insisted that he would not speak without it. He only wanted to do this once. She reluctantly agreed, bringing the sword to the infirmary, along with the Inquisitor, the head of the Institute, and Sophie Lightwood as witness. He was unsure of how she’d gotten involved, but her presence somehow terrified him and soothed him at the same time. Cordelia was allowed to stay as well, as long as she did not interfere with the questioning.

The Mortal Sword burned through his body, aggravating his many wounds, but he’d felt worse. He answered their questions, explaining how Belial had held him over the Thames, threatening to drop him into the river as he brokered a deal with him. He conveniently left out the part that preceded. He attempted to describe what it was like to be under Belial’s spell, under his curse. He told them that he never wanted to hurt anyone. It was the truth, even under Belial’s influence.

“Thank you, Alastair. We’re almost finished,” Will told him. Alastair was unsure why he was asking the questions, he was sure that was meant to be the task of the Inquisitor, but whatever Will had done to earn the privilege, it seemed like he regretted it now. He was simply too empathetic. “Please allow me to clarify a few details. Belial, using Jesse Blackthorn’s body, pushed you off of Tower Bridge?”

Alastair grimaced, his answer burning in the back of his throat. He had hoped they would overlook this part. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was already over the edge of the bridge.”

“I don’t understand.”

Alastair looked over to Cordelia who seemed ready to jump in on his behalf, though they both knew she was not allowed. “I- I jumped,” he confessed, relief washing over him, though he did not know if it was because of the sword. “I attempted to kill myself, but Belial stopped me.”

The Consul and Will Herondale looked at him in shock. Sophie Lightwood appeared guilty, but he had no idea what for. The Inquisitor was indifferent.

Will attempted to speak, the pain breaking through his eyes, but could not. The Consul stepped in instead. “I see. Is there any other information relevant to this ordeal?”

He was about to respond when Sophie spoke up. “What did Belial tell you about Barbara?” Ah, he realized. That was why she was here. That was why she was guilty.

“Sophie!” the Consul scolded.

“Mrs. Lightwood, that is entirely-” The Inquisitor began, but it was not a question Alastair was opposed to answering.

“Nothing,” he told her. “But I overheard him speaking to Tatiana. He called Barbara’s death his gift to her.”

Sophie’s solemn expression did not hold the surprise of the Consul’s or Will’s. Alastair was merely confirming what she already knew.

The Consul nudged Will forward to take the sword back from Alastair. “I believe we’re finished here. We will discuss the matter and return to you shortly.”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Will put away the Mortal Sword and they left the room, Sophie casting an apologetic glance back at him. The silence stayed between him and Cordelia as they waited. He believed before that if he could skirt around the truth, there was a chance he would walk free, even if he did not deserve it. Now, knowing that they knew the full truth, his stomach twisted at the thought of their decision.

Cordelia looked pale, and he knew she was thinking something similar. “I’m going to go get some water,” she said finally. It wasn’t even a convincing lie.

“Cordelia, what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer as she left the infirmary.

if any of this seems unrealistic, i don't care! i made this mess and i can deus ex machina it if i want to!!!

taglist (ask to be +/-, this is a different taglist than most of my content because of the triggers): @jem-nasium @littlx-songbxrd @fortheloveofthecarstairs @cant-think-of-anything @shadowrunner2000 @writeforjordelia @jurdan-my-beloved

Part 5

#cw suicide #alastair carstairs #thomastair week #tlh #the last hours #cordelia carstairs #all gone fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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greatbigbellies · 3 years ago

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Another continuation of THESE TWO stories. In part three, Leo finds himself even MORE pregnant than last time. Will he still fit in his living room? Find out! Contains allusions to sex, (basically) rapid preg, hyperpregnancy, weight gain, and belly worship. Enjoy!

Leo looked himself over in his full length mirror, in awe at just how much his body had changed over the last two and a half years. It had been about six months since he had successfully delivered he and Marko’s 50 beautiful kids, and as much as his body had recovered, it had also changed as well. His chest was noticeably larger, but even more so was his hips, widened by his extraordinary pregnancy. Some of the pregnancy weight had stuck too, giving him much thicker thighs and a squishier booty. Overall, he was significantly more pear shaped than when he’d started, and overall, he was okay with that. Marko certainly didn’t mind…

Leo smirked. “I can feel you staring,” he said, able to sense when Marko was ogling him. Marko stepped through te door with a playful sigh, “I still don’t know how you do that. I didn’t make a sound!” he said, stepping up next to Leo, pulling him in by his waist. Marko kissed the top of Leo’s head, causing Leo to smooch him on the cheek, in turn. “What’s going through your mind hon? You’ve been checking yourself out in the mirror for almost ten minutes now,” asked Marko. Leo sighed, “I dunno babe… I’m just… is it weird that I really, REALLY miss being pregnant?” he asked.

Marko shook his head, placing a hand on Leo’s flat, empty tummy. “You carried those little guys for two years, you kinda got used to it…” he smiled, “Besides, we both really enjoyed ourselves with it...” Their gazes met in a loving, slightly charged eye contact, and Leo began picking up on the signals Marko was sending. “Would you… be up for doing it again?” Marko finally asked. Leo’s mouth curled into a mischievous grin, “Only if we can go bigger this time?” he asked. Now it was Marko’s turn to smile, “Like… time and a half?” he asked. Leo shook his head, “Bigger,” “...double?” “A LOT bigger,” Markos eyes went wide.

“Babe you were full of 50 last time, how much bigger do you want to go!?” asked Marko incredulously. “Why don’t we set ourselves up with fertility treatments, and see where life takes us? Numbers and quotas aren’t sexy, chance is sexy,” Marko’s breath grew a little shaky, “Are you sure you can handle going bigger this time?” Leo smiled, “I’m excited to push my boundaries!” he replied.

Marko pulled him in for a deep kiss, “Your ambition is also sexy,” he whispered. Leo stood on his tiptoes and whispered back into Marko’s ear, “Then what say you we get to work tonight?” he offered. Marko scooped him up in his strong arms, carrying him bride style and turning toward their bed, “I thought you’d never ask!”

And get to work they did. Frequent trips to the local fertility clinic and regular “sessions” in bed quickly showed that Leo’s ability to conceive mid-pregnancy had not waned, but actually increased, much to the surprise of medical experts everywhere. As the two experimented, hey found that Leo was growing SO pregnant that one could actually see him slowly grow larger by the second after the couple had fooled around, a fact Leo would take some time to adjust to…

2 months later

“Are you sure you don’t want to just… email the guy?” asked Marko, a little worriedly, in the drivers seat of the couple’s van. “I want to at least attend ONE class in person, even if I’m too big for the desks!” replied Leo from the passengers seat, squeezed between the back of the chair and the glove compartment. His belly, while still in the first trimester, had ballooned to look quintuplet heavy, and that was a conservative estimate. In order to maintain some modesty at his size, he wore a sleek, black, belly support belt, which covered his underbelly. Over that were dress slacks, which paired well with his maternity button-up dress shirt. The shirt only BARELY reached to the hem of the support belt, but overall, he looked sharp, and it was clear an attempt was made.

“I know you want to take some classes and eventually earn a degree, but… aren’t you making it a little hard for yourself like this?” asked Marko. Leo shook his head, “Naw hon, it’s all part of my master plan. See, I waddle in like THIS,” he gave his belly a hearty pat, “and gain instant sympathy, then I tell the instructor I’m growing too large to get around, and he’ll switch me to his online course, AND grade everything I do with a curve! Because clearly the tired, hugely pregnant guy is doing his best!” Leo grinned a troublesome grin, “meanwhile I’m stuffing my face, getting foot rubs, and half-assing all of my assignments for easy college credits!” Marko shook his head, a little exasperated. “You’re such a little slytherin,” he said, getting out of the car.

He circled around and opened the door for Leo, helping him get to his feet. He gave him a little smooch on the head for luck, “You don’t think our little escapade before you got dressed for this is going to be a problem, do you?” he asked. Leo shrugged, “more belly, more sympathy,” he replied with a little smirk, before turning to waddle away. Marko turned on his heel, and shifted back into the divers seat. He wondered if Leo could make it through the whole class. “He’s grown to love the attention though,” he said to himself, “So maybe he’ll be okay…”

Leo DID love the attention. Compared to his outing at the mall so very long ago, the pregnant man had come to revel in the stares he received. Sure, some were stares of confusion, but more so there were stares of admiration, and curiosity. In some rarer cases, he even noticed a couple stares of jealousy, and a little lust. Leo knew full well that Marko wasn’t the only person into sizable midriffs, he just wasn’t expecting to see so many others. And he could certainly tell who was who in this case. The stolen glances and subdued blushes were all the proof he needed.

When he reached the classroom and stepped through the door, his sizable belly entered before the rest of him, and immediately he was the center of attention. The space was set up like a theatre, with rows of seats lined up, bolted to the floor, with little folding desks built into the arm rests. Cautiously, Leo made his way down the shallow steps toward a middle row, his tummy blocking his view of his feet, making each step a little more treacherous than he liked. He squeezed into a spot toward the right side of the room, close to the door so he could leave easily.

Leo’s wide hips and ass meant he filled the WHOLE seat, with a little overflow, and the front of his tummy brushed against the back of the seat in front of him. He was really starting to feel his size. The other students were clearly trying to be polite, but it wasn’t a secret they were all eyeing him, all secretly wondering if he’d go into labor right then and there. If only they knew… thought Leo with a smirk.

He tried unfolding the desk to write on, but… his oversized belly just got in the way. He tried everything short of brute force to try to get it to unfold for use, but alas, he took up too much space. He shrugged, and grabbed his notebook from his bag, resigned to use his belly shelf as a table. That was when he felt something shift deep within his body. “Oh no,” he whispered.

He’d started growing again. Marko had been right.

Leo realized that maybe sex right before class wasn’t such a great idea, but it was too late now. Leo felt his button up shirt grow increasingly tight, and the stitches on his slacks and belly belt strain as his body stretched for new occupants. He fought against the friction of is own thighs against the arm rests as he tried to get up, the slowly increasing weight of his belly not doing him any favors. He felt something rip, and jerked up rapidly in response, which just caused a button on his shirt to pop off. PING! It bounced off of the whiteboard, and Leo felt a blush of embarrassment roll across his face.

Everyone was actively staring now, and Leo needed to vacate, quickly. Turning with a wide breadth, he started waddling back up the steps. PING! Another button popped off as his belly belt rode down, exposing more of his bare, pale tummy. He threw his notebook back in his bag and dug for his phone, needing to get ahold of Marko. He could feel his pregnant belly slowly stretch itself bigger, and for the first time, Leo wondered if they overdid it on the fertility drugs.

He burst through the door with surprising speed for a man in his condition, and finally found his cell. Speed dialing Marko, he heard his belly belt pop a little with each step, the elastic failing as he continued to grow. “C’mon, c’mon, pick up!” he pleaded. Leo felt his belly start to widen out, and realized that his belly belt was just growing too tight to be safe. Taking a deep breath, he yanked the belt down, causing his huge and heavy tummy to flop downward form the lack of support.

“Hello? Is everything okay?” Marko finally picked up. “No! This was a mistake! I started growing in class and I’m too big for everything now! Come pick me up!” Leo hissed into the receiver, trying not to make any more of a scene. “Alright, just, go to where I dropped you off, I’ll be right there!” Leo hung up and began waddling toward the exit, his tummy swaying a little more with each heavy step. He could feel his weight increasing as he moved, and swore his midriff wasn’t the only thing swelling up.

He left the college building just in time to watch Marko pull up, getting out to open the car door for his poor husband. Marko’s eyes grew wide when he saw how much Leo had grown in such a short span of time. He ran to meet him halfway and help Leo back to the van. Right as Leo sat down fully, he felt his slacks split open at the seams on the side, letting out a resounding RRRRRIIIP! As his thighs became exposed. Marko quickly shut the door to preserve any privacy Leo still had, and scurried back to the drivers side, hopping in and driving away.

Leo’s hands covered his face as his cheeks burned with a vibrant blush. He couldn’t believe he’d let that happen. “Are… you okay hon?” asked Marko. Leo nodded, his hands not leaving his face. “Yeah… I’m just going to switch to online classes and never show my face there again. It’s fine,” he whimpered. Marko felt bad for him, that had to be embarrassing. “Would… some ice cream make you feel better?” he offered. Leo slid his hands down, giving Marko the cutest look. “A gallon of sherbet would be nice…” he replied. Marko smirked, “...and some tummy rubs while you eat it?” he sweetened the deal.

“Mhmmm…” “...and… maybe a little more than just a tummy rub?” Marko offered. Leo smiled for the first time since he got in the car. “You know that’s what got us into this mess,” said Leo. “I know… but we’re out of this mess, and you said it yourself, you’re going to switch to online right away. What’s the harm?” Leo, without breaking eye contact, firmly gripped the sides of his shirt, and pulled them apart, popping the rest of the buttons. “You just wanna get your hands on this tummy, don’t’cha?” he teased. Marko turned bright red, and sped up the car. He had ice cream to get.

5 months later

“You think it was a bit much to rent out an entire theatre for just us?” asked Leo, his massive, gravid form slowly squeezing through the double doors. “Not at all, we’re sneaking in 95 extra people, I’d say we’re getting our money’s worth!” joked Marko, helping Leo navigate the tight confines of the wide movie theatre halls. Leo’s belly, now the size of a small car, was supported by a makeshift frame with rotatable wheels, with a soft pillowy top to make it more comfortable. It creaked under the massive weight of Leo’s pregnant belly, which audibly sloshed with amniotic fluid. Thankfully, the ramp down to the center seats was wide, though Leo could still feel the walls brush against the sides of his tummy.

“Alright, gonna turn you left now,” warned Marko as he walked to the side of Leo’s belly, squeezing between it and the wall. With more grunting than he was proud of, he turned Leo 90 degrees to the side, meaning he could now move forward down to their spot, smack in the center of the empty theatre, the perfect view. “I’m not TOO pregnant, am I?” asked Leo, seeing how out of breath Marko was after the effort. “Nonsense -HUFF- honey, in fact, I intend to make you -HUFF- even more so tonight!” he teased in response.

Leo’s footfalls were slow, but heavy, as his gravid body had swelled pretty much everywhere but his face. His ass and hips were wide enough for two seats, and his breasts had expanded considerably in order to ramp up milk production for later. Really, even with his mammoth midriff, he was still a sight to behold. After what felt like ages, they had finally reached the center-most seats. Leo noticed an extra wide one had been installed at a 90 degree angle, allowing him to sit comfortably and watch the film without being blocked by his belly.

“How did you pull this off?” Asked Leo. Marko winked. “I have my ways,” he answered. Leo slowly lowered himself into the seat, the soft cushions feeling good on his aching, pregnant body. He sighed in relief, happy to get off of his feet, and just reveled in being pampered by his husband to the point of theatre remodeling. He felt special. “This whole experience would really go well with some carmel corn… OH or some red vines!” Leo began feeling the pangs of pregnancy cravings.

Marko’s proud smile grew into a smug grin as he slid past Leo’s gargantuan belly, shuffling around in some bags. “What’s you doing hon?” asked Leo. Marko quickly made his way back to a place Leo could reach, before handing him a bag of caramel corn, and a drum of red vines. “I had a feeling you would want these,” Leo took the candy and gestured for Marko to lean forward, which he did, before placing a playful little peck of a kiss on his nose. “You’re adorable. Now sit down, the lights are dimming!

Marko took his seat next to his massive husband, a hand idly resting on the pregnant belly as the lights went out and the film began, kicking off a lovely evening.

8 months later

Leo was glad they had such an open floor plan in their house. Not only did it add a lot of brightness to the space, but it gave him a place within the house where he could FIT. Now carrying somewhere in the neighborhood of 270 to 300 babies, the doctors aren’t sure on specifics, his astoundingly large belly had the volume of a city bus, though retained a vaguely orbular shape. He’d been immobile for a while now, though aside from some cabin fever, Marko was able to provide everything he needed to be happy. Marko was now a stellar cook, and was great at getting what Leo wanted before the man even had to ask for it.

Right now though, Marko was relaxing, playing on his switch and lounging, where else, but atop Leo’s gigantic belly. At this point the widened apex of tummy skin was less of a shelf and more of a mattress, and the large curve of skin was so warm and inviting to Marko. He’d seen every inch of this belly countless times, but he as still amazed at it. Marko’s nightly cocoa butter rubs had been doing their job, as Leo didn’t have a single stretchmark on his person, even when carrying around 300 babies.

“How’s you town coming?” asked Leo, resting on the couch. His butt took up two cushions, and was now wide enough that it would impede passage through doorways if his tummy didn’t do that already. “Really good! I just got Audie to move in! And my garden looks so cute!” Leo pursed his lips in thought, “Which one is Audie? Is she the fox one?” he asked. “I mean… she’s ‘supposed’ to be a wolf but she looks like a fox…” replied Marko. He gently sat up, scooting to the left broadside of Leo’s tummy, and sliding down, nintendo switch in hand. He landed with a solid THUNK and walked over to Leo’s side. “You know that’s got to be hell on your knees,” advised Leo. Marko shrugged, “You’re not wrong, but like… it’s so fun to do that,”

Leo jokingly rolled his eyes and looked at the handheld screen, taking in Marko’s painstakingly curated garden. “Are those… trans pride colors?” asked Leo, pointing to a strip of blue, pink, and white along the right side of the flower beds. Marko grinned. “Yeah, that section is for you! And if you count, I have 52 total flowers in place, two for us, and 50 for the kids!” The pair smiled warmly. “You’re going to need a MUCH bigger garden here in about a week…” said Leo, his hands resting on his massive boobs, pushed to the sides by his even more massive tummy.

“Oh don’t worry, I’ve already started stockpiling more...” Marko trailed off. “Something on your mind, honey?” asked Leo. Marko shook his head slowly, before changing his tune. “I’m just… really, REALLY, going to miss this tummy of yours. And I’m trying to think of how to make the most of these last few days without seeming too needy, y’know?” he explained. Leo sighed and smiled. “Honey you’re NOT needy for wanting some extra tummy time before I pop. If anything I’M the needy one in this relationship. You do all the work! I just sit here and gestate!” Marko blushed. “I mean yeah but being pregnant is work in and of itself, especially THIS pregnant! Like I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Leo placed a hand on Marko’s shoulder. He would have used both hands, but he couldn’t reach past his own chest.

“Marko. My love. You have my full, complete, and enthusiastic permission do to whatever you would like to with my belly, for the next seven days. Whether is be painting again, massaging, dressing up, touching, lotioning… whatever. Go absolutely nuts babe. Consider it a gift for taking such good care of me!” said Leo. Marko’s eyes glittered and cheeks flushed bright red at the possibilities. He giddily bounced in place, “Are you sure?! You can rescind that offer at any point, it’s okay!” Marko said in a fast, excited tempo. Leo nodded. “I know, but I don’t plan to. This is your week babe, starting right now!”

The first thing Marko did was plant a firm, deep kiss onto Leo’s lips, which Leo leaned into passionately in turn. “You’re the best babe!” Marko said, bolting around to the front of Leo’s gargantuan belly. “What are you doing?” laughed Leo, having to shout so his voice would carry to the far end of his tum. “This!” Marko pressed his whole body into Leo’s belly, his hand working its way to his popped navel. He began rubbing tiny circles around it, occasionally stopping to poke it. Leo was sensitive there, and Marko knew it.

At the same time, he began planting kisses of increasing duration over Leo’s taught skin, which riled up some movement from inside. “Oohhh, they seem to like that…” said Leo. “do you?” asked Marko. Leo paused, “...Yeah,” Marko began alternating between kissing and licking Leo’s distended, hyperpregnant midriff, eliciting groans and coos of pleasure from Leo. Marko then did something he never had before, and left a delightful little hickey on the aft of Leo’s tummy. He stopped, waiting for a response. A few long seconds passed before Leo asked “did you just… give me a hickey?” Marko blushed so hard you could hear it in his voice. “Maybe… I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to. I know you pride yourself on your blemishless tumm-” “Do it again,”

Now Marko paused. “You sure? Cause I’m gonna get really into it…” “That felt like nothing I’ve ever had before. Please do it again,” Leo responded. Marko didn’t hesitate to fulfill his request, and left three more in semi-rapid succession, before retuning to kissing and affectionately worshipping the belly. It was going to be a good week for Marko.

#commissions #writing #not bellies #anonymous

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jd-loves-fiction · 4 years ago

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Kiss Cam

➤ Atsumu quickly regrets inviting you and his brother Osamu, whom you’ve been crushing on since highschool, to one his games once the kiss cam lands on the two of you and he has to witness his friend and brother swap spit onscreen.

➤ genre: fluff

➤ wc: 2k

➤ warnings:

➤ 🌑 I actually don’t know if there are kiss cams in volleyball games but oh well😅

You understood the thought process that led to the situation you would soon have to confront.

You understood why Atsumu did it and why he didn’t think twice about it.

But it really wouldn’t hurt him to learn how to read the room, but more importantly, your tone of clear distress.

“Look, I’m sorry, didn’t think it’d be a problem. And I still kinda ain’t seein’ the problem?” Atsumu said, sounding genuinely confused, which would’ve made you pity him in any other situation because he truly seemed lost, but not in this particular case.

“Ok, you didn’t think it’d be a problem. And now you know it is! Can’t you do anything to change it?” You were practically pleading, pacing back and forth nervously across the length of the stadium’s bathroom.

“I thought ya got over him!” He said, clearly frustrated. “Nothin’ can be done now. Yer just gonna hafta sit with him. Or ya can just go home, if ya want. Wouldn’t hold it against ya.” He spoke over the phone.

Your shoulders dropped. There’s the pity.

“No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be calling you just before the game. I’ll be fine, just focus on winning, alright?” You sighed, defeated.

“’s ok, nothin’ like a lil needless argument to warm up and get the blood pumpin’.” He chuckled, relaxing once more, judging by his voice.

You checked yourself in the mirror again, fixing any stray hairs and wishing you had put more effort into your appearance. If only you had been warned that you'd be sitting next to your highschool crush, Miya Osamu, who you definitely still had feelings for, in the VIP section--

That's enough. No reason to be thinking about that. No time either, as you were already approaching your seat when you came back to your senses.

It had been so long since you'd last seen him. You thought that maybe your memory betrayed you and he wasn't nearly as attractive as you remembered him to be, or perhaps he wouldn't age well. All those possibilities were proven to be completely incorrect the moment you spotted him.

Gone was his warm grey hair, now replaced with his natural black, his shoulders seemed even wider (which didn't seem possible at the time) and he seemed leaner, not at all out of shape but not as filled with muscle as before. It suited him.

You wondered for a moment if he even remembered you (you'd be quite hurt if he didn't) let alone as vividly as you remembered him.

Did he remember you as the shy girl from his class who didn't fall at his brother's feet (and instead fell at his, but he didn't know that) and instead chose to befriend him and find her way into his circle? Did he remember what you looked like? The jokes you made behind Atsumu's back? The lunchboxes shared? How he always seemed to want a pice of yours more than any other, despite the deliciousness of his own? The little game you started where you would try to get him to laugh with the dumbest of methods because you were curious on what his laugh sounded like and why he didn't show it more often?

Did he remember you at all? Sure, those memories seemed significant enough, to you, because you were smitten with him.

He, on the other hand, had a hoard of fangirls waiting on his neck and call much like his brother, and various girlfriends (if the rumors were to be trusted, which they usually weren't, but it had to be true, with everything he had. The body, the face, the personality, the humor).

Sure, him and Atsumu didn't befriend a whole lot of girls, but there were at least a few. Would he confuse you with one of them?

"Y/N?"

Before you could step all over your own heart once more with worst case scenarios, already thinking about turning back and leaving, you heard his low voice call out your name, slow and unsure.

He blinked at you for a moment, wondering if his eye betrayed him, until you waved shyly at him while approaching. His pout immediately turned into a small and soft smile that made your heart flutter.

"Hi! Haven't seen you in a while!" You greeted amicably as you sat down next to him, mentally struggling to come up with topics to discuss. If you remembered correctly, he was never one for small talk, and nothing would be worse than silence right now.

"Right back at ya! How've you been doin'?" He asked politely, still smiling at you. You don't remember seeing him smile for this long (genuinely) before. Oh God, his smile is so cute--

"Oh, nothing much. Looking for a job at the moment." You said dismissively, mentally scolding yourself for making yourself sound so uninteresting. Osamu didn't seem fazed though.

"Well, I'm probably gonna need some help durin' the summer. So, if ya need a part-time job while in Hyogo or something, come by my shop: 'Onigiri Miya'. Sure Tsumu's told ya about it already though, heard y'all kept in touch." He offered, successfully managing to seem calm and collected despite the excitement he felt at the possibility of spending time with you, doing what he loves. That and hide the envy he felt for your having kept in touch with his brother and not him, but then again he could've been the one to reach out so he didn't really blame you.

"Oh! Well I am planning to pass through... Maybe I'll take you up on that offer." You smiled, ignoring how easy it was to talk to Osamu. Who the hell would talk about a summer part-time with their highschool crush after however many years it's been? You two apparently.

But it was nice. Everything about Osamu was nice.

"But honestly, it's real nice to see ya again. Ya look great, I mean it." He said softly, hoping you hadn't noticed the way his eyes had roamed your figure for a moment when he saw you.

You blushed, looking away in response and giving his a meek 'thanks', acting like a highschool girl with a huge crush all over again, but then again, what really had changed?

"You don't look so bad yourself." Was all you managed to say before the game was announced to be starting soon, followed by the fans' loud cheers.

You and Osamu traded comments and jests, poking fun at people in the audience as well as some players (mostly Atsumu), and even though it seemed childish, it made you feel like a highschooler again. Actually it seemed to almost transport you fully onto a very specific day.

You remembered that day quite clearly, for whatever reason. It was during your first year, Osamu had injured himself and had to sit out of a practice match that Inarizaki had against another school. Atsumu (or was it Osamu? You couldn't remember exactly) had asked you to come see the game and "cheer him on". Truth be told, he knew that you wouldn't be doing any of that, and in a way he was glad you wouldn't.

As you entered the gym, you noticed Osamu right away, sitting dejectedly on the sidelines, on the bench, seemingly unbothered and uninterested, but by the grip he had on his shorts and the light tapping of his foot in the floor, you could tell it wasn't so.

The team all knew you by this point, so the coach simply nodded at you as you entered, headed straight to where Osamu sat, eyes wide and glued to the match in front of him, passing in front of him purposely to bring his attention towards you instead.

You placed your bag on the ground before sitting next to it, receiving an odd look from the younger twin.

"Why're ya sittin' on the floor?" He asked as you simply smiled. "Why do you look like you're plotting a murder?" You asked bluntly, to which he gave you a surprised but impressed look, shaking his head and motioning for you to sit with him.

"I'm not. Now come sit with me. Bet it's cold there." He tried tempting your but you merely shook your head, staying where you were.

Reason being that 1. Yes, you were close to most people on the team but you weren't part of it and that's what the bench was for and 2. You had a plan.

"What kind of face do you think that middle blocker's gonna make when Suna spikes?"

"Well..."

You remember making comments about both teams and laughing quietly amongst yourselves, and with where you sat, Osamu had to lean in your direction to hear what you were saying, therefore taking at least a little of his attention away from the game so that he didn't stomp through the floor in restlessness.

The halftime interval was announced finally, each team taking the time to recover some of their strength.

One of the huge screens situated at the edges of the stadium switched on, showcasing a vignette in the shape of a pink heart with the words 'Kiss Cam' at the top, the camera attached settling on two people making them lean towards each other to do as the screen indicated while the crowd cheered.

"Wait. Atsumu told you I was coming? Why? And why didn't he tell me?" Osamu shrugged at your question, seemingly not privy to his brother's thoughts on the matter. Which was a lie.

Atsumu had told him because he knew of his crush on you, and saw this little encounter as the perfect way to 'rekindle the flame' as he put it, as if you were some old couple who were simply bored of each other and not too young adults hopelessly head over heels for the other but unable to make a move.

As you tried to wrap your head around Atsumu's reasoning (useless, knowing him), Osamu took notice of a camera preparing to settle on your position.

Both of your faces appeared onscreen inside the (to some) dreaded pink heart, the crowd cheering once more as you looked around yourself, confused, until Osamu pointed you in the direction of the screen and watched as your face became beet red, before you hid it in your hands.

So that's what Atsumu meant when he told him to 'take any chance to make a move if he got one', the bastard. Osamu glanced briefly at his brother below, looking at his stupid smirk and dumb thumbs up of encouragement. He set this up.

As Osamu turned to you, so pretty, so cute, an image he could never truly erase from his mind fully since highschool, he realized that this was his chance. And he had to just man up and take it. Not repeat the same mistake.

The black haired man placed a gentle hand on the back of your lowered head, ignoring the way the crowd roared louder, and leaned towards you as you raised your head to look at him, being met by his face mere centimeters away from yours.

He looked at you in concern, wanting to make sure that you truly wanted this as much as him.

And you, realizing that fuck it he looked like he wanted it as much as you and you really had nothing to lose, leaned forward to meet him halfway as the crowd's ruckus crescendoed one final time.

The exchange must've lasted maybe a full minute, if that, but it seemed so much longer to you. It seemed like an eternity before you felt his soft, flavoured lips meet yours in a shy kiss, sweet but hesitant. Exactly like two highschoolers would do after confessing.

You parted after a moment, timidly opening to your eyes to check Osamu's expression, only to find him smiling as giddily as you felt inside, hand still steady on your head, simply cupping it and not pushing.

Spurred on by his clear excitement, you leaned back towards him, joining your lips passionately with your eyes closed as the cheering faded from your ears, solely focused on the feeling of Osamu's lips against your own, slow but firm.

As you parted, looking away from each other shyly, you both caught a glimpse of Atsumu, gagging down by the benches.

He was obviously happy for his brother and friend, but he would've preferred to not watch as they locked lips as passionately as they did.

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kat-katsuki · 4 years ago

Text

Sunflower and White Rose | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Part 1

Fantasy AU

Genre: Drama

Masterlist

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

WC: 2.4k

The northern tribe of the dragon riders had a tradition. Every year, the tribe holds a fire festival, also known as the coming-of-age festival, to celebrate those step foot into adulthood. All the 16 year olds will gather around the bon fire to dance with their partners. It is said that lovers who dance together will be blessed by the fire god, and their love will last for all their lifetimes to come.

Bakugou Katsuki was prince of the tribe, and the bravest, most skilled dragon rider of their generation. He is the dream man of almost all the young ladies in the tribe. This year, he was to come of age. The young fifteen and fourteen year olds cried to their parents, asking why they weren’t born a year or two earlier.

Little did they know the young prince already had his eyes on someone. You.

You were quite the black sheep of the tribe. The tribe was full of dragon shapeshifters and riders. Your people were known for bravery and freedom. Children were taught at a young age how to soar through the sky, whether it be on their own wings, or riding a winged one. You, on the other hand, were terrified of heights.

You were often made fun of by your peers. Even Bakugou himself had once made fun of you for being a coward when the two of you were just children.

However, you had the kindest soul the world has to offer. Even though you were the laughingstock of your generation, you never got mad or embarrassed. You simply smiled and treated everyone with respect. You weren’t jealous of those who soared the sky. Instead you focused on the wonders the earth had to offer.

Because you were neither a rider nor a shapeshifter, you made good friends with Midoriya Izuku, the young outsider who lived a few miles outside the tribe. He and his mother had moved here when he was very little. Although the tribe had a reputation for being savages and fearful of outsiders, the dragon tribe was actually very welcoming. Bakugou’s mother made friends with Midoriya’s mother almost immediately, and Midoriya was raised alongside of the youngsters of the tribe. However, because Bakugou often made fun of Midoriya for being scrawny and weak, Midoriya had few friends in the village. Midoriya’s mother was a healer, so Midoriya too, studied medicine.

You were always fascinated by herbs and flowers, so you often went to Midoriya’s house to learn from them. When you weren’t at their house, you often laid in the flowerbed, enjoying the scent of nature.

How Bakugou fell for you was an accident, literally. He and Kirishima, his dragon, were soaring through the skies, practicing the new tricks they’ve learned, and that was when the accident happened. Bakugou lost balance, and accidentally steered Kirishima into a large boulder on the top of the mountain, and the two fell right onto the flowerbed you were laying on. Thousands of flowers were crushed under the large red dragon, petals and pollen scattered into the sky and then falling down like rain.

You stood in the sea of flowers, wide eyed. The prince had fallen. The best rider of the tribe had fallen. You quickly rushed over to the fallen prince and his dragon. Kirishima was protected by his strong and sturdy scales, so he only ended up with scratch wounds and maybe a concussion. Bakugou, on the other hand, broke his left arm.

When Bakugou saw you his eyes widened with horror as his face turned into a deep shade of crimson. Someone had saw him fall out of the sky. Of all people to see him embarrass himself, it was you, the loser of the tribe. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this! Or else I’ll kill you!” he threatened you.

“O-Okay!” You nodded timidly. “B-But your arm is broken. It needs to get treated immediately or-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I DON’T NEED HELP FROM A FUCKING FAILURE!” He slapped your hand away.

“Katsuki that’s not very nice. She’s just trying to help!” Kirishima said when he transformed back into his human form. Despite his insults, you didn’t hesitate to help him and Kirishima to a small cave far away from the village, where they can rest and heal in peace. Normally, when dragons or riders get injured, they’d call a shaman to do a few chants, and let the gods heal their wound. Herbs and medicine are foreign practices that were not used in the tribe, so when you brought the medicine you had made for the prince and his dragon, he refused to let you put it on him.

Kirishima, on the other hand, was very open to these foreign stuff. He let you put your homemade creams on his scrape wounds to stop the bleeding. “Oh man this feels so good! Katsuki you gotta try it!”

After a lot of persuading, Bakugou finally let you put some medicine on his scrape wounds. The cream stung at first, but after the stinging sensation was over, it left a cool feeling on his skin that soothed the pain. Bakugou couldn’t help but notice how the wounds healed much faster with the strange green plant juice you put on him than the chants of the shaman. Eventually, he let you wrap his arm to a stick, which you said will help his arm heal.

You tore the cloth to your dress, shortening it to barely over your butt. You gently raised his broken left arm, placed two straight logs to either side of his arm, and wrapped the cloth around them. Only then did Bakugou finally take a closer look at you for the first time in his entire life. For a failure, you were breathtakingly beautiful. Your (e/c) orbs seemed to sparkle under the moonlight, and from your (h/c) hair, he could smell a faint scent of flowers.

Every day you’d come back with food, water, and medicine. While Kirishima’s wounds were healed a long time ago, he waited with Bakugou for his arm to recover. Before Bakugou knew it, he began looking forward to seeing you everyday.

You almost always had cuts and bruises on you somewhere. Bakugou knew exactly how you got those. Ever since you were a kid you were always bullied by the other children in the village. You and Midoriya were always the targets of their rock throwing and sharp shooting practices. Although Bakugou never bothered to join in, he used to always scoff at your miserable state. Now, seeing those dark purple patches over your skin, he could only feel his blood boil. “Who did it?” he’d ask, but you would only show him that annoyingly goofy smile of yours, telling him that you fell, when you clearly didn’t.

He didn’t know why he felt a strange disappointment inside him when you told him he was fully healed. “You can go back now,” you said.

“Alright! Now we can go flying again!” Kirishima cheered.

Bakugou stared at his left arm, now good as new. Your medicine worked miracles. He couldn’t even find a single scar on his body. You left before he could tell you ‘thank you.’ Just like that, he and Kirishima went back to the village. The moment they arrived, they were surrounded by their friends and family, asking them where they’ve been the past few weeks. It was then that he realized he never once thanked you for saving him and keeping his secret.

Since then he’s had his eyes on you. Every time he spotted you in the crowd his eyes would follow wherever you went. Whenever he went flying with Kirishima, they’d always fly over the same flowerbed to see if you were there.

Kirishima quickly caught onto the feelings of the young prince. Whenever they saw you at the flowerbed, Kirishima would lie that he’s tired and needs a rest. He’d land at the flowerbed just so Bakugou could be with you. However, despite Kirishima’s efforts, Bakugou never seem to know what to say to you. He’d try to ask what you were up to, but the words that came out of his mouth were, “Hey coward, here sniffing flowers again?”

You’d always give him the same goofy, and slightly timid smile with your signature, “Ehehe” chuckle. Kirishima would nudge Bakugou and tell him to go talk to you, but Bakugou just sat there watching you pick herbs, refusing to utter another word to you because he knew nothing good will ever come out of his mouth.

He always sees you bringing home injured little animals: birds, squirrels, rabbits, fawns. Instead of eating them like what the other people in your tribe would do, you treated their wounds and released them back into the wild. You were just so weird, weirder than that outsider Midoriya. But for some reason Bakugou can’t get his mind off of you.

Finally, it was the awaited day before the fire festival. On this day, all the sixteen year olds of the tribe will be participating in the flower exchange event. Flower exchange is the special event held the day before the fire festival for the new adults to find partners. It is also the traditional day where the young adults declare their love for one another. Of course, it is common for some people who don’t have a love interest in mind to partner up as friends, and for some people to wait for their younger significant other to turn sixteen before choosing a partner. However, for most sixteen year olds, this is the most important day of their life.

Bakugou had already planned everything out in his head. He’s going to ask you to be his partner. He practiced day and night so that he won’t accidentally call you harsh names. He swore that this would be the one day where he won’t say anything mean to you. He’ll tell you how he feels, and ask you to be his partner, his lover, the one who would forever be with him for their many lifetimes to come.

He had your favorite flower in his hand, a ghost of a smile on his face. He had watched you pick flowers for months. He had noticed how your eyes would always soften, and your lips would always curve upward when you saw this particular flower. The white rose.

Everyone else were holding such vibrant colors in their hand, red being the most common. Red roses, red salvia, tulips, violets, peonies, buttercups, you name it. He had always wondered why you were so obsessed with this plain looking flower. Your taste in flower was just as unique as your fear of heights.

Flower exchange was held at the center of the village. Every year the entire village would come to watch the youngsters exchange flowers. It can easily be deemed the most important event of the year. A swarm of girls and boys ran up to Bakugou, asking to exchange flowers with him. “FUCK OFF EXTRAS!” Bakugou growled at them as he violently searched for your silhouette in the crowd. Weird… He knew for a fact you turned sixteen this year. Heck he even saw the shitty Deku, who was invited by Mitsuki to join the tradition. He held a sunflower in his hand, and stood at the corner looking almost uncomfortable to be there. His face was a dark shade of crimson, and his legs trembled.

“Pfft! Sunflower? Who brings a sunflower to flower exchange?” Bakugou could hear a few people laugh at the young green haired teenager, and he just scoffed in agreement.

Kirishima had exchanged flowers with his childhood friend, Ashido Mina. You were still nowhere to be found.

Soon, most of the new adults were already partnered up, clearing the area. “Prince, will you be my partner?” girls kept swarming around him, and he had to push past them to find the familiar (h/c) silhouette.

That was when he saw you.

He expected you to stand there awkwardly. He expected you to be without a partner.

He didn’t expect you to show up without a flower.

You stood there kicking the pebble by your feet, a hint of sadness in the depth of your eyes. “(Y/N)-chan where’s your flower?” Mitsuki asked.

“Ehehe~” you smiled at the wife of the chief and scratched the back of your head almost guiltily. “I forgot about that.”

“Bet she knows that no one’s going to partner with her, so she just didn’t bring one,” someone laughed.

The smile never left your face, but Bakugou had a strong urge to punch them in the face. What was he going to do now? Exchange of flower symbolizes exchange of love. Did you not bring any flower because you had no love to give? Or was it true that you just forgot?

Whatever. None of that matters. He was going to give his flower to you no matter what. “(Y-”

“(Y/N)-chan. If you don’t have a flower, I’ll give you mine!” Midoriya stepped in front of you and held out his sunflower to you, pink dusting over his freckled cheeks. Bakugou froze, wide eyed.

“Izuku what about you? Aren’t you going to exchange flowers with someone?” you asked your friend.

“Well, it’s not like someone is going to partner with an outsider like me for something as important as the fire festival. This is such an important tradition to your culture, you should take it,” Midoriya placed the sunflower in your hand. “In fact I was….actually going to give it to you in the first place….”

“Psh! Outsider and loser, how fitting.”

Mitsuki shot a glare at whoever uttered those words.

You just smiled at Midoriya, and asked, “Then you wanna be partners for the fire festival?”

The white rose fell from Bakugou’s hand. At that moment it was as if the sky came crashing down on him, weighing over his shoulders, pinning him to the ground. He was the prince, the next king of the dragon tribe, yet the only person he has ever loved, asked someone else to be her partner. The people around them dove to the ground fighting for the rose that fell. Almost in an instant, the poor flower was torn to shreds, just like his heart.

He ran.

He could only run. He had to get away before he puked on site. Why…? Why? Why?! WHY?!! Why the shitty Deku?!

The necklaces clattered, and the cape on his back fluttered with the wind. His teeth were clenched and his sharp nails dug into his palm. He was furious at you, furious at Deku, but most of all he was furious at himself. Why didn’t he go up to you before Deku? Why did he run away without even attempting to ask you. He always called you a coward, but he was the true coward.

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Also on AO3! A kudos would be greatly appreciated!

#bnha fanfic #bnha #mha #mha fanfic #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha fantasy au #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #drama #romance #white rose #sunflower #my hero academia

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myhockeyworld87 · 4 years ago

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Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 1

Word Count: 3,332

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW

Notes: So here we go with this new story that’s been stuck in my head and finally worked it’s way onto here. Please see the Masterlist for the synopsis. The first two parts should really be one, but I broke it into 2 because well sometimes I don’t have time to read long fics and then I lose my place, so I tried to make this a bit easier for anyone else that has this problem. So, Part 2 is coming out tonight as well. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Happy Reading!

You sat there staring at the piece of paper in your hand, debating back in forth in your mind about what you wanted to do. This was your dream offer, just not in your dream city. In fact, if you were being honest this was the last place you saw yourself moving, but could you or would you turn it down because of him. He’d dictated most of your high school life, and some of college, to give him that kind of power over your career now would be so stupid. Especially, when you literally hadn’t seen him in almost twelve years. He probably wouldn’t even remember you, but there was no way that you could ever forget Jamie Benn.

It was your freshman year in high school when you’d met him. He was slightly older and had just come to your secondary school to play hockey. Jamie was quiet, which seemed kind of funny for a jock. They were always loud and boisterous, but maybe you were just going by the ones in your family. By default, he was thrown in with all the other hockey players and one so happened to be your older brother, who was also friends with Jamie’s brother Jordie. The three of them ended up being thick as thieves and drove you half insane at times. Well, maybe not Jamie. When he was at your house the two of you always ended up having some random conversation about god only knew what, but it was always entertaining. You easily got a crush on him after about the seventh or eighth time you were around him but kept that to yourself. Oh, it wasn’t like you weren’t pretty or anything. It was the opposite really. Cheerleader, as well as on the track team; you were one of the more popular freshmen in school, but you were also terribly shy and inexperienced when it came to boys. You always felt, well, awkward around them, not knowing if you would say the right thing or do something embarrassing. With Jamie though, it was different. He made you feel so at ease, but then maybe part of that was because he shared the same awkwardness that you did.

You distinctly remember one night early your sophomore year, when your brother, Justin, and Jordie decided to take both you and Jamie to a party. They practically had the school slut, throwing herself at Jamie, but it was clear the boy had no clue what to do, as his hands awkwardly fumbled her advances. Which was fine with the jealous streak that suddenly went through your entire body. She attempted to kiss him, and with all eyes focused on him, he went to return it, only to completely miss her and end up bonking her on the head. In end, he’d laughed things off saying he was too drunk, but you knew that he’d only had one beer. He somehow slipped out of the cabin you’d been partying at, and back to the woods, after the incident. Of course, you’d followed him. “Hey Jame, you ok?” He simply shrugged as you sat down on the log beside him. “Justin and Jordie can be dickheads sometimes, you know?”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m sure you’re a better kisser.” Oh my god, did those words really leave your mouth? Fuck. “I mean…like…” Jamie just sort of smiled over at you as you stumbled through words that seemed to be regurgitating out of your mouth.

“Maybe,” he finally said, staring off into the woods, then very quietly added. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

You had to strain your ears to catch that last part, but you were definitely sure he said he’d never had a first kiss. “Oh,” you answered softly, with a hint of surprise in your voice, though inside you were giddy. Somehow, you’d just assumed that someone like Jamie, who was athletic and good looking had definitely been kissed before. It was surprising that he admitted it to you, and before you knew what was happening that same word vomit from before was making an appearance. “Me either.”

“Really?” His question came almost as soon as you spit out the words. Why he found that hard to believe was beyond you.

“Yes really.”

“I just thought….well…” This time it was Jamie stumbling through a sentence instead of you. “I know that you and David have been hanging out a lot.”

“David?” While it was true, you’d been hanging out with one of the school’s top soccer players, it was for a completely different reason then stolen kisses. “I’m tutoring him in biology. If he fails, he’s off the team.” The words fell from your lips before you had time to fully think them through. “Please don’t say anything. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

“I won’t,” Jamie told you and you knew that you could trust him with this or any secret that you had. He turned toward you then, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m glad you’re only tutoring him.”

“Oh, why? He seems like a nice guy or have you heard different…” you trailed off not quite sure of what or why you were even asking.

“Oh, he seems nice. I don’t really know him.” Jamie ran his fingers through his hair then. A telltale sign he was searching for the right words. “I mean…I’m glad you’re not dating him, you know…because…well I thought….” He blew out a breath and you held yours. “Maybe you’d want to date me.” Goose pimples rose on your flesh at his words. This was the moment you dreamed about, and now, here it finally was. When you didn’t answer right away Jamie added, “That is…did you want to go on a date?”

The corners of your lips pulled up into a smile and Jamie’s did as well. “I’d like that.”

“Me too.” He adjusted himself so that he was sitting closer to you on the log you shared. Now only an inch or two separated the two of you as he hesitantly made a move to hold your hand. It hovered just above yours for a few seconds, both of your eyes shifting down to watch as he finally clasped your hands together, and then you were both shared a stupid grin. “Can I…kiss you?”

You were speechless at all that had transpired in the last couple of moments, and so you just nodded, both excited and afraid to share your first kiss with Jamie. You moved in closer, while Jamie did the same. Your eyes slowly going shut as your lips drew near. Jamie’s lips ghosted over yours, just barely a brush against your skin as first, but then he added a bit more pressure and it was both awkward and wonderful at the same time. You both stayed that way for several heartbeats neither of you moving, both unsure what the next move was. His free hand, the one that wasn’t tightly laced with yours, came up to caress your cheeks, and then your lips were moving together and it was one kiss simply melting into a million more. Unconsciously, you sighed. Your lips parting open for him and his tongue darted into your mouth. Eyes flying open at the contact, you weren’t sure how to react. Of course, you knew what a French kiss was, had seen it on television a million times, but to experience it was quite different. You realized you could taste the beer he’d drunk earlier and something else, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. Tentatively, you let your tongue mingle with his, letting your eyes flutter shut once again so you could savor the feel of this kiss; your first kiss with Jamie Benn.

It was one of many that you shared with Jamie over the next few months. He took you out on several dates, mostly to the movies or to the little pizza shop you both loved, but most nights were either spent on your couch or his, where you’d watch hockey and then makeout until it was time for curfew. Your relationship progressed about as much as any fifteen going on sixteen-year-olds did; there was a lot of holding hands and quiet kisses. On night’s that one of your parents would go out and leave you both alone, it definitely went from first to second base rather quickly, and you learned that Jamie was definitely a boob man. He became an expert at unclasp your bra in record time, of course, there was a learning curve that involved a lot of fumbling around.

It was Jamie’s birthday, that you decided to give him a present he’d never forget. For the life of you at the age of fifteen, you couldn’t figure out why it was called a blowjob when you were definitely supposed to suck on his cock. Thankfully, you’d seen enough of your brother’s porn stash to know how to give a proper one and not look completely stupid. Though you didn’t expect to gag when Jamie thrust his hips into your face uncontrollably. At least you recovered quickly and were able to swallow most of his cum when it shot down the back of your throat. It was two weeks later that he finally reciprocated, by going down on you in the backseat of his car. While not the most romantic place in the world, his tongue flicking across your clit made up for the cliché atmosphere.

By the end of summer, you’d rounded all the bases but hadn’t hit a home run yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep with Jamie; it was the exact opposite. However, there just wasn’t a time or place for the deed to get done. The two of you had discussed and decided that you wanted to make it special and not just make it some little box that you could check off in your relationship. This would be the first time for both of you, so while it was going to be memorable, you also wanted to savor it. As neither of you were eighteen yet, it wasn’t like you could go and get a hotel, for you’d thought about that option, and you’d already ruled at the car. With limited options in Victoria, you had no choice but to travel to your parents' second house on the outskirts of Vancouver. It was rarely used, as your dad only stayed there on business trips which had become less frequent over the last couple of years. Even though the house was rarely occupied, you came up with an elaborate plan for your parents to let you not only stay there overnight but travel there by yourself. Well, technically it wasn’t by yourself as you said you were going with your best friend Emma. Who covered for you, god love her.

You weren’t sure what excuse Jamie had told his parents, but he picked you up at Emma’s house one Saturday morning and the two of you made the trip in less than three hours. It was a nerve-wracking drive, though Jamie held your hand most of the time. It wasn’t really the thought of having sex with Jamie that made you uneasy. It was the thought of having sex period. You were afraid it was going to hurt, but you kept trying to push past that thought, knowing that you wanted to do this, more so that you wanted to do this with Jamie.

It was awkward, just like all your firsts with Jamie were, but eventually, you two were able to move past that, and in the end, it was actually kind of amazing. Though the most wonderful part had to be falling asleep in Jamie’s arms. He’d made you felt so loved and cherished, and you’d known right then and there that you’d made the right decision to give you virginity away to this man. It felt like the two of you would be together forever.

That was until the following Tuesday at school came around. There were stares and whispers everywhere you looked, or so it seemed. It wasn’t until lunchtime, that you finally found out what was going on, and then it was only from Emma. “Em, what is going on with everyone? I feel like half these guys are staring at me.”

She closed her eyes as if mustering up the courage to tell you something she didn’t want to. “Jamie told everyone that you two slept together.” You gasped, then quickly covered up both your mouth and the hurt that came along with it. “That’s not the worst of it,” Emma said and it felt like your heart just sank into your stomach. “I also heard that he told people you two have been fucking for months.” There were so many ‘whys’ and ‘how could he’ running around in your head you couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Jamie wouldn’t do this, there had to be some explanation. Your eyes scanned the cafeteria looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. You were just about to get up and look for him when Emma’s hand came down on yours. “There’s more. He said the only reason he was dating you was because you were easy.” Bile rose in the back of your throat and you wanted to just run to the girls' bathroom and cry, but Emma stopped you. “Don’t,” she said simply. “If you go, it will just feed more gossip. Act like nothing is wrong and that nothing happened. Like you don’t care.” Easy for her to say when it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest along with your reputation. “Breathe.” You hadn’t realized you’d stopped until she said the word.

The rest of the day was a complete blur. You couldn’t find Jamie anywhere. As soon as you could make it home after practice, you were dialing his number. His mom answered, “I’m sorry (Y/N), Jamie’s not feeling well. I’ll have him call you when he’s feeling better.” The next day passed and still the lingering stares, mostly from the guys, continued. You’d even had a few ask you out, to which you simply rolled your eyes and told them it would only happen in their dreams. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say and just added fuel to the fire, making it seem like everything that Jamie had said true. He avoided you yet another day and you were beginning to wonder if he was going to pretend to be sick the entire school year just so he didn’t have to face you. By the third day that you hadn’t heard from him, you knew it was done. No matter what excuse he could give you, it would never make up for not only what he said but the way he’d treated you afterward. You simply needed to move on. So, when you saw him at school the following day, you completely ignored him. He attempted to talk to you several times, but you weren’t having it. “Come on (Y/N), please just talk to me.”

“I think you’ve done enough talking for the both of us Jamie. We’re through.” There was hurt in his eyes and you wanted to break down and cry right then and there, but you held your head up high and continued down the hall to your next class. It was two periods later that Emma was handing you a note. You unfolded it, seeing Jamie’s writing on the top.

(Y/N),

I’m sorry. Please let me explain….

That’s all you read before tearing the letter up and tossing it in the garbage can in front of Jamie, hoping he would get the point and leave you alone. He didn’t. As soon as you walked in the door of your house, your mom told you he’d called three times already. After explaining that the two of you broke up, and crying on your mom’s shoulder for a half-hour, though not mentioning the details of your breakup; she told Jamie not to call back when the phone rang again. Ever persistent, Jamie came banging on the door after dinner. This time it was your dad that told him he wasn’t wanted in your home, even though Jamie was practically begging him to let you in, while you sobbed in the background. He kept up the same routine over the next week, all with the same result until eventually, he gave up.

Over the next two weeks, you could hear the whispers as you walked down the hall. Girls muttering that you were slut, while the boys were trying to figure out which one of them would get to sample you next; now that it was clear you were no longer with Jamie. The icing on the cake was when David, the soccer player you’d been tutoring told everyone that you hadn’t been studying at all; that he’d been sleeping with you for the last month. No matter how many times you said it was a lie, no one believed you. Your reputation was simply shredded apart all by a few words Jamie had uttered. So, after a couple months of being talked about, there was only one thing left to do, and that was to become that girl that they whispered about. If they were going to condemn you, you might as well earn it.

Your junior and senior year, you became the girl that gave the star point guard a blow job behind the bleachers after the game, as well as giving one to the goalie, the wide receiver, and the captain of the debate team, and a few more as well. Jamie seemed to take out his aggression on the ice, dropping the gloves with opponents left and right, but you tried to pay him no mind. Until he finally went to play for the Grizzlies and you didn’t have to see him all the time. By then end of high school, you truly had earned the reputation that he’d given you, but you were sick of it. Tired of being looked at for only sex, you applied to schools in the US. Thankfully, while you’d jumping from penis to penis, you’d still kept up your studies and were accepted at every school you’d applied to.

When you received your acceptance letter from Georgetown, along with a scholarship, you jumped at the chance to put yourself all the way across the continent from not only Jamie but what you’d become. At University, you put your head to the books instead of on some unknown guy’s cock, studying constantly which earned you a 4.0 in undergrad, and basically allowed you have your pick at the top medical schools in both Canada and the United States. It was a no brainer when John Hopkins wanted you and during your time there, you were able to work with not only the Baltimore Ravens but the Orioles as well, all within your first year. Which had you taking up orthopedics and sports medicine as your specialty.

All of this led you to today and the offer you were currently mulling over. It was literally everything you’d ever wanted and allowed you to work with not only the NFL but the NBA and the NHL as well. It was the last one that had you rethinking it though. The pros well outweighed the only one con that you could think of and that was Jamie Benn. Who’s to say if he’d even remember you though? It wasn’t like you could forget him after what he’d done, but you let him dictate enough of your life; you weren’t about to let him continue. So, you typed up your written acceptance, then called Dr. Ellis to let him know you were taking the job. You’d made a new reputation for yourself this time around and you weren’t about to let Jamie Benn ruin this one.

#ruined the series #jamie benn #jamie benn smut #jamie benn imagine #jamie benn imagines #jamie benn fanfic #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #dallas stars fanfic #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfic #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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aphrodites-law · 4 years ago

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A Bit of Clarity - Update

In honor of Clexmas20, Day 5: The Naughty List. We all know who’s on it.

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (13/?) / (AO3) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

Though hope could be dangerous, Clarke had felt it bloom when Lexa had turned around to look up at her. She still couldn't chase it away while she waited for Lexa to reach the top of the stairs, and even less when Lexa finally appeared, breathing fast, with cheeks already slightly red from the chill of the night. Clarke wanted nothing more than to run to her, but something had her rooted in place.

Now barefoot and without her coat, she should have felt the cold floor and the chill in the corridor. Instead, all she could feel was her heart racing. Lexa seemed stunned to be back here, but in awe rather than shock. Her mouth opened and closed twice, like she was thinking too fast and reconsidering each one of her words.

Finally, Clarke couldn't take the silence any longer: "If you come any closer-"

"I know," Lexa replied immediately. "Believe me, I know."

Lexa said the last part with such yearning that Clarke had to clutch the side of her door, as if it digging her nails into it might somehow smother the fire inside her. Conscious of how desire could override good sense, at least in their shared history, she knew honesty was the only way forward:

"I don't want just tonight," she said, voice cracking at the end.

This couldn't be an impulse. It couldn't be an itch to scratch. Clarke had always known she wanted more. That if regret entered their thoughts in the morning, her heart would break. It was what her vision had told her all along: that avoiding vulnerability had kept her from a more meaningful connection. That she'd quieted a part of herself out of fear it would crush her. And she hoped Lexa was thinking the same; that she'd turn away if deep down she knew it wasn't right just yet. After all, it may have felt like an eternity since they'd decided to take their time, but the reality was quite a bit shorter.

As if answering those fears, Lexa shook her head. "When I was down there I remembered what I told you earlier: that I'm certain about us. And… I am. I am, Clarke. I want every minute you'd give me." She started walking then, her hand brushing against the wall to steady herself. "I want mornings in your kitchen; afternoons in your café." She stopped and swallowed. "And I want nights in your arms."

There was a beat - an agreement between them - that felt so similar to the one before their first kiss that Clarke knew nothing else could follow it but just that. She shot off, and Lexa did too, until they met each other in the middle of the corridor. Clarke pulled Lexa into her, and Lexa's hands went to her waist, both of them moaning in relief when they finally kissed, warm lips meeting cold ones with such force that Lexa stumbled and her back thudded against the wall.

"Sorry!" Clarke said.

Lexa smiled just then, deliriously happy, before kissing her again. She had Clarke pressed against the opposite wall in a second.

"Don't be," she said. "I like it."

Their next kiss held nothing back - not after Clarke heard such an admission - and ended only when Lexa pressed her lips against her jawline.

"I've played this out in my head so many times," Lexa breathed out shakily. "At the café I'd look at you and I'd remember how it felt to kiss you - to finally kiss you."

Clarke moaned as Lexa continued claiming her neck.

"I'd wish I could press you up against the display again and never make the mistake of pulling away. Take you right there." Her hands tightened on Clarke's waist and then inched up with a hunger written on her face. "You feel so right, Clarke. You always have. I can't even think straight when you're in the room. It's all you, all the time."

Clarke felt dizzy, unable to think coherently herself let alone form words with her mouth. She reached for Lexa's hand and brought it to her breast over her sweater, breathing hotly in the small space that separated their lips. "Then take me now," she managed to plead.

Lexa groaned before reclaiming her lips, cupping her breast at the same time their kiss deepened. Her tongue was silky soft, but her hands had a roughness to them that made Clarke throb with want. There was nothing rough or careless about Lexa herself, but weeks of thinking instead of acting had both of them on edge.

In the back of her mind, Clarke vaguely remembered they had yet to cross into her apartment, but at the forefront was Lexa's body pressed tightly against hers, Lexa's tongue in her mouth, and Lexa's hands on her breasts. She moaned loudly, and maybe it was that that spurred Lexa on. She guided Clarke toward the door, both of them clumsily trying to kiss at the same time, lips stretching into smiles when they bumped into each other.

Clarke finally opened Lexa's coat, and Lexa finally had her bra unsnapped, the move so swift that Clarke was only aware of it when Lexa slipped a hand beneath her sweater and cupped her bare breast. Her knees went weak and she stifled a cry against Lexa's neck. She was pressed against the wall again, the ache between her legs growing stronger.

"Lexa, baby, wait- inside."

Lexa nodded but made no move in that direction, instead crouching down to kiss her cleavage. She licked and nipped the exposed skin while she palmed her breast, until she couldn't help herself and ran a thumb over the stiff peak. Clarke gasped and threaded her fingers through Lexa's thick hair, so close to forgetting all about common courtesy. She had neighbors she liked. Neighbors who were also customers. Neighbors she'd want to introduce to Lexa, one day.

She searched for the door next to her and pushed it wide open, then pulled Lexa inside by the lapels of her coat. Though miffed at the interruption, Lexa recovered spectacularly well when Clarke shut the door behind them and resumed their kissing. She had Lexa pinned next to the coat rack, which rattled against the wall. Lexa's hands found her ass and squeezed.

"Fuck," Clarke breathed out. "I never thought it could be like this."

Lexa licked her bottom lip. "Like what?"

"Like…" Clarke's eyes darkened and she promptly pulled down Lexa's coat. "Wanting you so much it's painful."

In full agreement, Lexa pushed off the wall to kiss her. They moved further inside, blindly finding their way. Lexa mapped every inch of Clarke's skin she could reach, craving more. It was almost overwhelming, and perhaps the best indicator of how long it had been since she'd let passion overtake her.

"I want- I want-"

"Tell me," Clarke coaxed, desperate to get it out of her. Lexa had such a way with the written word, but Clarke needed her voice tonight.

"I feel like I'm going to starve if I don't have you now," she finally admitted as Clarke bumped into the kitchen table.

Clarke sat on it and felt a jolt of pleasure shoot through her when Lexa immediately stepped between her thighs. It was familiar and yet different from the cramped room of the café, where the thrill had been in the stolen moment. Clarke had known nothing further than kissing would happen then.

This time, Lexa cupped her cheek; and it was tender, because tenderness underlined everything Lexa did, even something as mundane as typing on her keyboard, but it was possessive too. Not possessive in a way Clarke had ever known, or at least not the kind that stemmed from dominance and jealousy. It was from something else that Clarke had felt too; this deep-seated hope that only she could satisfy Lexa. It was arrogant, she couldn't deny it, but it was true of Lexa too. No one else had ever had such a hold on her body, and no one else could satisfy her tonight - it seemed like Lexa was perhaps proudly aware of it.

"Tell me how you want me," Clarke rasped.

Lexa pressed her forehead against hers, her breathing fast and warm. Her hand slid down from her cheek to her neck, as if wanting to touch her everywhere and unsure where to finally settle.

"I want what you said before I left: my body against yours; my mouth on your thighs… my tongue inside you." Clarke shivered as Lexa looked down at her heaving chest. "Do you have any idea how many times I tormented myself with glimpses of you touching yourself? Knowing you'd seen me; us?"

Lexa tugged at the bottom of Clarke's sweater and pulled it up, letting Clarke lift her arms before she took it off completely, her bra coming with it. Clarke's hair fell back messily and Lexa seemed to enjoy the sight, exhaling sharply before she had to crush their lips together again. The coarse fabric of Lexa's sweater rubbed against her nipples in the most pleasurable way.

"And I can't stand not knowing anymore," Lexa groaned.

While Clarke lost herself to the glorious feeling of Lexa's mouth against hers, with no end in sight for the first time, she faintly felt hands work on the buttons of her pants. Lexa grew more frenzied after they came off, hooking her fingers in her underwear to pull them down her legs.

Before she even realized it, Clarke was naked on the table while Lexa stood fully clothed, almost insufferably smug when she pinned Clarke’s wrists down. There was something about being completely at Lexa’s mercy in this moment, so utterly vulnerable and safe at the same time, that made Clarke dizzy with need.

While Lexa drank her in with a darkened stare, Clarke tried and failed to steady her breathing. Past her awkward teenage years she'd been comfortable with her body; with her full breasts and her curves, but Lexa’s noticeable desire has her feeling like a work of art. It was emboldening.

“Are you just going to stare...?” She husked.

Pulled out of her lustful reverie, Lexa let go of her hands to trail up her thighs. She felt cool against her skin, but was quickly warming up now. She kissed her throat sensually and licked over her pulse as she had after their date on the mountain.

“Now I’ve seen all of you too,” she whispered, sending a shiver down Clarke's spine.

Clarke cupped the back of her neck and kissed her desperately, squirming on the table for relief. But Lexa clearly intended to provide it, her hand inching so close to Clarke's entrance that she could feel its heat.

"I want to be inside you," she said, only pressing closer after Clarke had nodded.

Lexa's fingers were coated with her arousal as soon as they parted her folds. Clarke had wanted this for so long, and so strongly, that it was no surprise how wet she was. She'd felt her own desire for Lexa multiple times before, and it was fierce.

"I think you want that too," Lexa noted as her thumb reached up to brush over her clit.

"Don't tease me," Clarke whined, arching into Lexa's touch. "Fuck, I can't take it anymore. I can't."

Lexa hummed against her neck, two of her fingers barely dipping inside. "You can…"

The words had Clarke on the verge of tears. "No, baby, please-"

"But not tonight," Lexa said before penetrating her.

"Oh, fuck!" Clarke moaned loudly, throwing her arm around Lexa's neck as she lied her down on the table.

"I've got you," Lexa said.

She pumped inside her, her eyes mesmerized by Clarke's face and the pleasure written on it. Clarke's mouth remained agape as she took her in, finally full. Lexa felt so good; unlike any dream or vision she could’ve conjured for herself again.

"More, Lexa- fuck-" she panted, acutely aware how close she already was.

Lexa barely waited a beat before she picked up the pace, taking her deep and hard. There would be a time for slow and sensuous, where she would caress and worship every inch of the gorgeous woman beneath her, but neither of them had the patience for it now. In this moment Clarke needed release and Lexa needed the thrill of giving it to her.

The feet of the table thumped against the floor and something fell, but the windows could have shattered and Clarke would have still pulled Lexa closer. She'd never imagined their sex like this, but god did it feel good. It was dirty and frenzied, but it was them. It wasn't something she could have done with anyone else; that she'd ever needed with anyone else.

She gasped against Lexa's neck, tasting salt when her tongue peeked out. Lexa still had her clothes on, but she was breathing so hard that Clarke knew she was starting to sweat too. The apartment felt so much hotter already; the air already smelling like them.

Lexa took a nipple in her mouth, licking and sucking while Clarke rocked her hips against her hand, chasing her release. This is what she'd missed out on, she vaguely thought. The urge to share all of herself, to give and be taken so fucking thoroughly she could barely even remember her own name. She only had Lexa on her mind; Lexa lavishing attention on her chest and curling her fingers inside her.

"Oh god, don't stop!" She cried out, her nails scratching down Lexa's back beneath her top, not hard enough to pierce skin but hard enough to hurt good.

Lexa's hips jerked forward and Clarke realized she was moving them against the table, following the in and out rhythm of her fingers to give herself some relief. It must've been only a few minutes since Clarke had finally felt Lexa inside her, but the thought of her so wound up paired with her small moans pushed Clarke over the edge. She tensed and came with a sharp cry, her orgasm crashing throughout her body in waves. Her ankles locked around Lexa's waist and she realized her fingers were still in that thick hair of hers, now wild and messy.

Lexa hummed in between kisses to her breasts and throat, anywhere she could reach as Clarke slowly unwound beneath her. She pulled out of her and drew lazy circles against her clit, not ready to pull away entirely. The smell of their mixed arousal was heady, and all she could think about was finally tasting Clarke. It was a surprise when she heard a small laugh and then saw Clarke cover her face with her hands.

"I knew I'd be fast, but…"

Lexa pressed her nose against the back of her hand. "Hm, I guess I have time to go home."

Clarke immediately reached for her collar. "No jokes. Besides, that was a warm-up." She kissed her and then licked her bottom lip. "Just to clear my head."

"Yes, of course," Lexa played along. "A practice round?"

"Exactly."

They laughed before kissing again, laughter soon changing to moans. Clarke got off the table to pull Lexa toward the bedroom, eager for a softer surface. There'd been some truth to what she said: the orgasm did make her a little less useless, though she was rapidly feeling hot all over again.

They kissed between the quick shedding of Lexa's clothes, hands working fast to pull up her sweater and undo her shirt. The more skin was exposed, the tighter they held each other, desperate to feel skin on skin.

Clarke felt so hungry for Lexa that when their tongues met again she stuttered in her movements. Lexa's hands on her waist steadied her, but the brief halt slowed nothing down.

By the time the back of Clarke's knees hit her bed, she was pulling an equally naked Lexa atop her. The weight of her felt like finding what she had been missing for months, for years, and when Lexa pulled back and looked at her, making sure her renewed ardor was welcome, Clarke felt like nothing could compare to being looked at like this, with so much desire she couldn't even comprehend it.

Their next kiss made Clarke's toes curl. Lexa's tongue wasn't timid against hers. Lexa's hands weren’t hesitant when they kneaded her breasts, her thumbs sweeping over her nipples to tease the hard peaks. She took one in her mouth and Clarke gasped helplessly, not sure she would ever get used to the heat of Lexa's mouth. As wound up as she was, Lexa still seemed more interested in exploring Clarke's body. She fondled and licked, checking for signs of what made Clarke tick the most - a teasing suck, a gentle bite, or a rough squeeze.

Their bodies moved together toward one common goal, yet in no rush to reach the finish line once more. Clarke's moans surprised her. She wasn't usually quiet but she wasn't extraordinarily loud either. But Lexa had awakened something inside her. She craved her so much it was almost frightening.

"Come here," Clarke pleaded as she tried tugging Lexa back up. Her thoughts filled with Lexa coming apart beneath her, but Lexa had other plans.

"I need to taste you," she breathed out while she left gentle pecks down Clarke's stomach.

When Lexa parted her thighs and finally kissed her clit, Clarke looked down and gasped. Suddenly, she thought of her vision. She saw it so clearly now that she wondered how she could've ever thought it wasn't Lexa. And yet she felt indescribable happiness when she realized it wasn't quite what she had seen either. The air was different, the smell, even the way they moved together. Her vision wasn't a one-off - she knew that clearly now. One day perhaps they would be back in her bed, and Lexa would be breathing her in, and Clarke would know she was living what she had once seen. But tonight was still wonderfully unknown. It was theirs to discover together.

Needing to feel Lexa above all, Clarke reached for her head and moaned out her name. Lexa looked up and smiled, not once looking away while she lowered her mouth and slid her tongue through her.

"Lexa - oh god - make me come…" she pleaded, the fire inside her all-consuming.

Lexa's nose pressed against her as she drew closer, finally licking inside her. Clarke's eyes squeezed shut and she writhed beneath her, hips rocking against her mouth.

Oh she was good at this, but what struck Clarke the most was how intense she was, almost to the point of greed, like Clarke was hers to please. Like she took her pleasure from giving it, spurred on the messier it was and so eager to lap it all up. And it was messy - almost to an embarrassing point, Clarke briefly thought, to be this wet and this eager to be devoured.

Lexa worked her hard and long, maddening, never once tiring. She knew where she wanted to go but she took direction too, with Clarke's hands in her hair, sometimes guiding closer, sometimes slightly to the side and oh-

"Lexa!" Clarke gasped when she felt two fingers inside her again. A third finger quickly joined and started the delicious torture of building her up.

The air around them was almost stifling, but Clarke never wanted to leave this room. She'd lost all inhibition in Lexa's arms, in this bed, and it was the most freeing feeling in the world. She'd known they had a connection - that they brought out something exhilarating and new in each other - but she hadn't dreamed of something like this. Of understanding each other so utterly fast.

"You taste so good," Lexa said before she flicked her tongue over her clit, smiling proudly when Clarke's fingers pressed against her scalp again.

"I'm so close - so close-" Clarke's back arched and she spread her thighs wider, offering herself fully, crying out when Lexa's fingers stroked a deep spot inside her. "Right there, right there," she moaned, but any other plea was swiftly cut off.

Her orgasm had her clawing at the sheets, gripping until her knuckles went white; her heart pounding. She called out for Lexa followed by a string of expletives, her thoughts completely wiped out. For a few seconds, there was nothing else existing in this world but this very feeling.

"Oh god, fuck," she said as she regained some sense of space. "Come here, baby, please."

Lexa licked her lips before moving up her body, her senses so attuned to Clarke's taste and smell; the very feel of her beneath her fingertips.

Clarke kissed her deeply once her breathing had calmed down. It was wet and filthy, a kiss that specifically aimed to further Lexa's arousal. Once Clarke had recovered, it was no surprise that she pushed Lexa on her back and straddled her.

And while Lexa had successfully kept her mind off of her own needs so far, it was impossible now. Clarke entwined their fingers together and pinned them on each side of Lexa's head, grinning when Lexa's attention immediately went to her hanging breasts, too far for her mouth to reach.

"You want something?" Clarke coyly asked as she started grinding against her, her breasts now swaying gently with her body.

Lexa squeezed her hands in frustration. "Clarke…"

Clarke leaned down and grinned cockily when Lexa tried kissing her.

"I think you like this," she said, her mouth so close she could feel Lexa's warm breath. She could smell herself too, and even in the poor lighting from the hallway, she could see her essence on Lexa's chin.

"I think you've liked it for a long time. How we'd touch but barely; kiss but never long enough. It's how you drove me crazy for weeks. But I know I liked it, deep down." She rubbed herself against Lexa's thighs and watched her reaction closely. "How it pushed me toward the edge. How much more intense it made touching myself every night, wondering how much closer we were to a night like this."

Lexa's eyes squeezed shut for a second. "Fuck," she breathed out, to Clarke's wicked delight.

"Hmm, I know you like picturing that." She kissed her throat and then finally kissed her breasts. "Let me take care of you." She let go of her hands to palm one breast while she teased the other with her tongue, sighing when Lexa moaned lowly.

Lexa slung an arm around her middle, fingers stretched out on her back, just to feel her closer. Just to be selfish for a moment and keep this woman - this bold, extraordinary woman - all to herself. She had wanted to give so much tonight, to push Clarke over the edge and bring her back, over and over again, but beneath Clarke's mouth and hands she was unable to ignore her own desire any longer.

Her breathing stuttered as she watched her leave open-mouthed kisses down her stomach, adoring every freckle.

Maybe Clarke had seen Lexa's body before even truly knowing her, but it couldn't compare to actually feeling her. Feeling the warmth of her skin and how her muscles tensed; watching the dim light bounce on her tattoo when she flexed her arm; how her eyes darkened the more time passed. Her vision had been about her own pleasure, but Clarke found Lexa's pleasure much more exhilarating.

"What do you want?" She asked this time, stroking the inside of Lexa's thigh.

Lexa looked so taken aback for a second that Clarke wondered if she still wasn't used to being asked that. The first time Clarke had ever asked her, at night in the café, Lexa had kissed her. The second, she had implied it didn't matter. But it did, and Clarke would make sure Lexa always knew it.

Lexa gripped her hip, pulling her closer. Then, she cupped the back of her neck to kiss her, maybe as a way of stalling. Clarke couldn't imagine why she would do it, until Lexa nudged her higher up on her body again. Clarke laughed when her breasts were at eye level and Lexa licked her bottom lip.

"Well I know what to give you for Christmas now," she said.

Lexa smiled before lifting her head to nuzzle one breast. "I could stay here forever."

"Hmm, I'll see what I can do about that." Clarke reached between her legs and touched her, her knees almost buckling when she felt how wet Lexa was.

Lexa's breathing quickened and she pressed her face against Clarke's cleavage, her arm still tight around her.

"Clarke, fuck," she exhaled sharply.

It was distracting enough to have Lexa's mouth so close to her breasts again, but when she lifted her thigh ever so slightly, Clarke felt it against her center and briefly wavered. Knowing she'd be a lost cause if she started grinding down on it, she slid two fingers inside Lexa and watched as she tipped her head back.

Clarke had always known Lexa to be hard to pinpoint; reserved at times and yet so passionate at others. Detached some days and sociable on others. The vision had captured just how intense she could be, like a switch she turned on. For a long time Clarke had thought of her as a walking contradiction, but as she looked at her face now, she saw none of that. Lexa had trusted her with so much; and asked for so little in return. And while Clarke had yearned for the intimacy in her vision, she realized then they'd shared that long before shedding their clothes. Touching Lexa - finally touching Lexa - was just the culmination of it.

"You feel amazing," she whispered as she pressed inside her, amazed by Lexa's small moans and how she held her. They couldn't possibly be closer, their sweaty bodies sliding against each other, and yet it still felt like there was too much between them.

Clarke felt Lexa's thigh tense and moaned, not expecting it to feel so good against her clit. When Lexa nudged her hips and encouraged her to grind down, Clarke gave into the urge.

"Don't stop," Lexa panted, tongue flicking against Clarke's breast again.

Clarke would've never dared, the thought of pulling out almost laughable. Every cell in her body was focused on Lexa; on the sound of her fingers thrusting inside her and the quick rise and fall of her chest. She couldn't get enough of her; couldn't wait to watch her come undone.

Lexa writhed beneath her, hips rising to meet the rhythm she had set. Her eyes were closed now and there was a slight crease between her brows. It made Clarke smile, remembering too fondly how wound up Lexa had been when they had first met. It had been apparent then and it was apparent now, differently of course, only Clarke intended to make sure she found her release.

"I've got you," she echoed Lexa's earlier sentiment, remembering how it had made her feel.

While Clarke hadn't been able to quiet her moans, Lexa's impeding orgasm seemed to have the opposite effect. Her lips were parted and her hold on Clarke had tightened, but she seemed to have retreated into herself.

"Baby, look at me," Clarke gently coxed as her thrusts quickened.

Lexa looked up with shining eyes, and for a moment Clarke lost herself in them. She couldn't really explain what happened then, if their arousal was heightening everything, but she felt every bit of Lexa's trust in her, and it made her heart swell. She bent down to kiss her, and even if it was sloppy it felt like she might cry from it.

Now desperate for Lexa to feel the same way she'd made her, Clarke pulled out of her and focused on her clit, rubbing it until Lexa's fingers dug into her back and she gasped.

"Clarke- fuck, oh-" She came with a soft cry, trying to keep her eyes open until she couldn't any longer. She reached for Clarke's hand and interlaced their fingers, her way of showing she was still here, in the moment, and had no intention of leaving.

Clarke drank in every change in her expression, from her brow finally relaxing to the little twitch in her nose she could only describe as so fucking cute. Lexa was breathtaking. It felt like her chest had exploded with happiness. She couldn't put it into words yet, but she would one day - that much she knew.

With that thought, Clarke rested her head on Lexa's shoulder and grinned, just because it felt exactly like the thing to do.

* * *

Clarke woke up on her stomach to the feeling of Lexa's lips on the back of her neck and her knuckles brushing down her spine. She kept her eyes shut, the light of the morning sun already filtering through the thin drapes. Lexa must've gotten up at some point to shut them, because it certainly hadn't been a priority last night. It'd been a while since Clarke had woken up after dawn, but the café was the furthest thing from her mind today, interviews be damned.

"Hmm feels nice," she mumbled into her pillow. She stretched her arms and legs, nearly purring when she realized Lexa's naked body was pressed against her back.

"Good morning," Lexa murmured.

Clarke faced her with a shy grin. Lexa looked so stunning with her tousled hair and the soft light on her face.

"Hi," she said, her voice still scratchy.

"How do you feel?"

Clarke snorted. "How do you think?"

Lexa smiled and bent down to kiss her, but the initial gentle press of lips soon turned into something deeper when Clarke reached out for her cheek and opened her mouth. Lexa sighed into it, her hand now resting on her ass and squeezing it when Clarke grew bolder.

"Don't start what you can't finish…" Clarke pulled away, the pulse between her legs throbbing familiarly.

"I wouldn't dare," Lexa replied confidently before straddling Clarke's legs and bending down again to kiss her shoulder blades.

"Lexa…" Clarke's breathing picked up as she guessed her intentions. She was wet, maybe wetter than she'd expected just a few minutes after waking up, but Lexa had this effect on her. She felt her shuffle back before cupping her ass with both hands.

"Raise your hips for me, baby," Lexa gently said.

Clarke did as requested, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her when she suddenly felt Lexa's tongue flat against her slit. The pillow muffled her moan. She buried her face in it, picturing Lexa positioned behind her so clearly it made her stomach tighten even more. Not seeing her made it all the more intense; a sign she trusted Lexa wholly, even at her most exposed.

Lexa tongued her clit and then dipped inside her, teasing her slowly, unlike the frantic pace they had set last night. It was purposeful though, building on the pressure Clarke already felt so strongly.

"Oh my god," she gave a low moan, helpless to do anything but hope Lexa would take pity on her fast.

She didn't. Lexa alternated between slow drags of her tongue against her entrance and gentle suction on her clit, as if exploring her anew in the morning light. Clarke groaned, thinking this might be how she would go insane. She needed so much more - Lexa deep inside her, taking her roughly until she was finally rid of the pulsing ache between her legs.

"Lexa, please-" she said, her fingers digging into the mattress.

Lexa shifted and Clarke suddenly shivered in anticipation. Yesterday had been heated and impatient, but this morning was a different kind of yearning. How far could they push and pull each other? How much could they give and take?

Taking her cue, Lexa drew unhurried circles around her clit before repositioning herself. She leaned down, her breasts against Clarke's back, though not so heavily that Clarke would crumple completely beneath her weight. Then, she pushed two fingers inside her.

"Fuck," Clarke moaned, knees pressed into the mattress.

Flashes of herself getting off like this the first time filled her mind. It had been the first time she'd thought of Lexa - at least consciously. The first time she'd needed to get off so badly that only picturing Lexa would satisfy her. And it had been enough then, but it had never been this good. If Lexa kept this going, she couldn't imagine leaving her room today.

"Like this?" Lexa asked as she filled her.

God, Lexa sure picked her moments. Clarke couldn't think straight, let alone speak!

"Faster," she managed to whimper.

Lexa hummed in acknowledgment and then sucked on her neck, moving her hips in such a way that it matched the movement of her fingers. Clarke felt like she was being mounted; taken so hard and good that she'd walk funny for days. She parted her thighs wider, lewdly, just to feel Lexa deeper.

"Harder… More…"

Lexa knew how to tease but she wasn't cruel at it, at least not this morning. She obeyed Clarke's commands smoothly, as if nothing could please her more than pleasing Clarke.

"I thought about you too," Lexa admitted quietly, like it was a dirty secret of hers. "Just like this."

Clarke's foggy mind processed the words slowly, her heart jolting when she realized what Lexa meant. Lexa shifted behind her and Clarke felt her grind against her ass, like she needed to alleviate the ache she was feeling herself before continuing.

"Thought about you spread out for me." Lexa shifted slightly to change the angle. "Hearing you say my name."

"Lexa-"

"Just like that. I thought about taking you with my tongue first - soft and gentle."

"Oh, oh," Clarke panted into the pillow.

Lexa picked up the pace. "With my fingers - hard and fast."

Clarke's mouth opened but no sound came out as her body hurtled toward release, the delicious pressure tightening with each word.

"And when I was about to come I'd think about taking you with my strap - in deep, long strokes." Lexa finally added a third finger and watched as Clarke's back arched in pleasure.

"Oh my- God, Lex- Don't stop, don't stop!"

"Never," Lexa breathed out.

Their bodies moved together as one again, and soon Lexa found it harder to keep herself from collapsing on Clarke. She chased her own release, grinding against her, spurred on each time Clarke said her name.

Finally Clarke's whole body tensed before she moaned loudly into the pillow, pleasure bursting within her as she reached her peak. Her toes curled and her mind went blank, wiped out by Lexa's thorough fucking. One, two, three thrusts of her hips against her ass and Lexa was crying out her name in the crook of her neck, her voice a soft rasp until all Clarke heard was their ragged breathing.

Lexa lied on her for a minute, the weight of her so warm and pleasant that Clarke wished she'd just stay there and they could fall asleep like this. Lexa reached for her hand and held it, mumbling something Clarke couldn't quite make out at first.

"You're amazing," Lexa said more clearly as she moved to the side, lying next to Clarke. "So fucking amazing."

Clarke quickly realized something. "Oh Lex…" she started giggling.

"What is it?" Lexa asked with amusement, propping herself up on her elbow and adoring Clarke's contagious laughter. "Was it too much?"

Clarke shook her head and pulled back. "Not at all. I was just thinking… we lasted about a week."

"Oh." Lexa smiled. "Well, God made the world in a week. A whole world. So I'd argue a week is an honorable amount of time to wait."

Clarke pushed Lexa on her back so she could rest her head on her chest, wanting to bask in the warmth of their bodies as her heart settled down.

"True, but I'm not sure the Bible would approve of this."

Lexa shrugged. "We just did our part fulfilling a different prophecy. Which reminds me... How did I compare?"

Clarke laughed tiredly. "No, this wasn't it."

"Really?"

"It was different."

Lexa thought about this for a beat. "How so?"

Clarke kissed the side of her breast. "Just… realer. Looking back, the vision was almost like… like I wasn't fully in my body. It's hard to explain. It can't be compared."

"Hm. Interesting."

Clarke looked up. "You're not going to include this in the Gazette, are you?"

"Well of course I am, this was all just a ploy to further my research."

Clarke moved to playfully nip her earlobe. "In that case I'll have to keep you in this room forever."

Lexa grinned while Clarke peppered her neck with kisses. "I'll agree to those terms in the name of research." She capture her lips and sighed into their sweet kiss, her arms right where she had wanted them for so long, around Clarke's waist.

Staying here forever had a nice ring to it.

#Clexmas20 #clexa #clexa fic #f: a bit of clarity

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