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lpmurphy · 4 months ago

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Spring in Tchakova Park

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Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Complete 5/7/24)

Chapter Summary: John receives a promotion.

Epilogue: Spring in the Highland Mountains

John couldn’t remember the last time he wore the uniform that hung from the wardrobe door.

He searched through his memory as he stared at his dress whites, only recalling a handful of times he had donned a dress uniform in recent years. It had hung in his wardrobe back in the barracks for so long before it took up residence in the back of Violet’s closet; in their closet. It had stayed there for the better part of a month in the slip of plastic the base dry cleaners had covered it with, untouched beside the pale pink garment bag she refused to let him unzip.

It hung now from the door of the old wardrobe in the room she slept in as a girl, glowing too bright in the late afternoon sun that dropped over the lake. John turned his head to peer out the window Violet had once crawled through to meet him to the glittering waters that laid just beyond the manicured lawn of the Harris kiva. He knew he wouldn’t forget the occasion he wore the uniform for this time.

Her musical laughter echoed from down the hall and filled the bedroom he stood in with the joyous sound. John turned from the window to the opened door. Violet’s laugh was joined by Kai’s from where his botanist had been stowed away in Bill and Jane’s bedroom all afternoon. Jane had banished them to opposite ends of the kiva since the night before after the rehearsal dinner, tasking Vannak and Kai with moving them strategically so that they wouldn’t encounter one another. She claimed tradition when Violet argued with her strict directives. Violet made her own claims that they had spent the six months of their engagement sharing the same bed and that she didn’t see the difference one night would make, but the small woman remained steadfast in her demands.

It didn’t stop Violet from tapping on his window late that night after everyone had gone to bed, nor had it stopped him from slipping through the silent house to sneak out the back door to meet her on the dock. He had relished in each moment they had spent sitting beside one another on the edge of the dock with feet dangling in moonlit waters as she rested her head on his shoulder, lifting it only to sneak kisses between the words of their whispered conversations. They had only shared fifteen minutes together before Jane caught on to their rendezvous and sent Vannak and Kai out to collect them. Their breach of Jane Protocol resulted in them both being pushed off of the dock when Kai and Vannak crept up on them, Violet’s happy shriek echoing across the lake as they fell into the chilled waters. He walked back up the lawn with her hand in his before he returned to Katie’s childhood room drenched and whole to sleep alone for what he hoped was the last night.

Violet’s laugh echoed down the hall again and John smiled at the sound. She had told him once that she hated her laugh. It appalled him that anyone could hate such a perfect noise. John poked his head out into the hallway and found it quiet as he checked quickly for Jane. He stepped out and looked down the hallway to the open doorway of the master bedroom. Violet sat on the foot of her parents’ bed in her thin white robe, partially obstructed by the woman who dabbed at her face with brushes and sponges. She laughed at something Meredith said again before apologizing to the woman for moving too much. John leaned against the doorway of his own room and watched for a moment before the woman stepped out of the way and Violet’s eyes met his.

Her face split into that bright grin at the sight of him, painted in shades of pinks and gold and her curls pinned up with long silver clips. She pressed her fingers to her painted lips and blew him a soft kiss. John returned the gesture with a wink as he watched her wordlessly.

“No!”

John turned to find Riz striding down the hallway towards him with finger waggling disapprovingly between the two of them. She wore the same pale blue pajamas she had donned since that morning. John had never seen her sleep in anything other than the regulation tee and sweats they were all issued. “Stop it! You both are going to get us yelled at. Kai, shut the door! They’re fraternizing again.”

Kai’s hand shot into the doorway and slammed the door shut. Violet’s room erupted into chides and giggles as it closed, the last glimpse he caught of her that of the smile she tried to hold back as she rolled her eyes. Riz planted herself in his doorway with an intense glare as she crossed her arms. He met her displeased stare with his own, her dark eyes ringed with makeup and hair pinned up. Tight curls bounced around her face as she shook her head and frowned at him.

“Get dressed,” she called over her shoulder as she turned. She knocked on the bedroom door and disappeared into the room when Kai cracked the door open for her, a burst of happy conversation leaking out of the space.

John scoffed and pulled the bedroom door shut behind him. He yanked off the tee shirt he had thrown on after his shower and tossed it aside. He watched his reflection as he undressed, his eyes tracing over every scar that littered his body. He touched the gnarled white that cut across his chest, remembering the way her own fingers had so tenderly brushed across them that first night. She hadn’t recoiled or looked at them with disgust, nor had she looked to him in horror. He had once thought that no one would ever look at him like he was anything more than a machine. A weapon. A monster. But she looked up at him that first night as her fingers traced over the darkest parts of him and he knew that he had been wrong. She called them beautiful without knowing the beauty she had shown him in her gentle touch; the same beauty that she had shown him ever since. He would gladly endure any of them over again if it meant that they had led him to her.

He turned back to where his dress whites hung and looked over the collection of campaign ribbons and medals that decorated the chest and the Spartan insignia pinned to it. He had held many titles in his lifetime; different ranks and designations that he had been promoted to. But none of his training, none of the battles and victories that led to any of the decoration on his uniform, had prepared him for the title he would take that spring evening in front of that lake.

Husband.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 would become John Harris; Violet Harris’s husband. He had never been more honored by a promotion.

There had been no training or exercises to prepare him. There had been no briefings or directives. It was unknown and new and entirely his own. She was entirely his own. He would experience this all the same way he had experienced every unknown moment since the first at the park; beside her. It would be the same way they would face every bit of new, her hand in his as they navigated each uncharted step, and he couldn’t wait to take on every bit of it.

He started to dress and tugged on the stiff trousers. His fingers worked at the fly as Riz pushed through the door again. Her pajamas had been replaced by a flowy dress of the same shade of blue with a high neck, her freckled shoulders and back bare. John looked over at her and took in the unfamiliar sight of his sister in her dress with makeup and hair done. She looked beautiful.

Riz looked back at his half dressed state unhappily. She held a long box in one arm, the other hand gripping the doorknob. Small bundles of flowers were nestled down into the parcel.

“Where’s Bill?” She asked.

John looked around the room before answering, unsure if she had forgotten only a few minutes prior when she had found him alone in the room. He started to remove his undershirt from the hanger as he replied. “I don’t know.”

“I need to give him his boutonnière.”

“His what?”

Riz groaned as she leaned out of the doorway and pulled it shut behind her. John could hear her footsteps down the hall as she shouted for Bill.

“Dad!”

“Yeah, Rizzo?”

John listened to their shouted exchange from where Bill stood on the lawn. Riz’s footsteps returned to his door as she yanked it open to glare at him again, “Get dressed. Guests are arriving. Ceremony starts in 30.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do in here?”

Riz pulled the door shut again without responding. John shook his head and returned to dressing himself. The door was thrown open again and John bit back a growl of frustration as he buttoned up his shirt. Riz leaned in the doorway and watched as he tucked his shirt into his pants in his reflection.

“Did you give Jane your ring?” She asked.

John flexed his left hand, the simple titanium band still on his finger. He had worn the ring since the day they purchased it together. Violet would tease him that he was too eager, but he didn’t want to spend another day without being claimed by her in the same way she had been claimed by him. Riz held her hand out as he yanked it off and set it into her palm. His hand felt strange without it; naked and too light.

Riz turned her head to shout down the hallway again, “Mom!”

“Yeah, honey?” Jane called back.

“I have John’s ring! Do you still need Vi’s?”

“I have it! The caterers just got here. Can you come show them where to set up on the map you made? I can’t find my glasses!”

A faint smile lifted her lips and Riz perked up at the question as her hand found the doorknob. The redhead had thrown herself headfirst into their wedding shortly after the engagement. Riz cornered John in the barracks after their return from Nomad to make it clear that a mutual agreement made between himself and his bride to be whilst standing in a bloodsoaked field hospital at the bedside of her dead former lover was not a proposal in any sense of the term.

She had dragged him and the rest of the team out of FLEETCOM that evening to the posh jewelry stores downtown. John watched as she poured herself over the glass cases and asked for different styles and cuts to be brought out, all large and flashy. The jeweler that assisted her had assumed that Riz was the bride as she carefully analyzed each ring and turned to Vannak, Kai, and John for their approval. Her mission to find Violet’s ring quickly turned into Riz slipping rings onto her own fingers, holding her hand out in front of her to look down at the glittering stones. Kai had been asked to wait outside after stacking as many baubles as she could onto each of her fingers with a pleased grin. Vannak stood behind Riz silently, but John was able to identify the way he looked down at the redhead immediately.

In the end, John had been the one to find her ring after slipping away from his team. A round green stone flanked by small diamonds on either side that resembled leaves. He purchased it from another salesman before slipping back to where Riz modeled an obscenely large diamond on her finger with a small smile. Violet had laughed through her sobs when he presented it to her beside the pond in the park the following evening, nodding happily and smiling as she kissed him.

Riz started to pull the door shut again, but hesitated. She pushed the door open and rested her hip against the doorway, “Hey.”

John turned to her with a growled sigh as he prepared himself to be instructed to do exactly what he had been doing for a third time. Riz only smiled up at him; a soft lovely smile that he had seen so rarely he could count the occurrences on a single hand.

“You look good,” she told him softly.

John returned his sister’s smile. “You too.”

“Don’t bullshit him, Riz. We all know he doesn’t look half as damn good as I do,” Kai guffawed from behind her.

Riz rolled her eyes as Kai stepped behind her and John didn’t recognize her for a moment. Her own dress was a shade of pale purple, the crown of her blonde waves pinned up with sprigs of wildflowers. She offered him a wide grin as she stepped into the room and gestured to his neck. “Your collar is twisted. Here.”

Kai stepped behind him and John watched their reflections in the mirror as she adjusted it. She glanced up at him, her lips turned up into a soft smirk as her eyes returned to his collar, “I can’t remember the last time I saw you in these.”

“Me either,” he chuckled. He looked from her reflection to where Riz stood in the door. “I’ve never seen you both like this. ”

“Don’t get used to it. This is only for your lovely bride, Chief,” Kai chuckled. Her fingers left his collar and her hands lingered on his shoulders. She met his eyes in the mirror and gave them a gentle squeeze before stepping back.

“Did you ever think any of us would be doing this?” She asked, watching his reflection in the mirror as his fingers started at the buttons of his jacket.

“Absolutely not,” he chuckled.

Kai’s laughter joined his own as she stepped beside him, taking his arm in her own. She rested her chin against his shoulder wordlessly as she stared at their reflection. Riz joined them in front of the mirror and took his other arm. They stood in the comfortable quiet they had been raised in, in the silence John had always found solace in their company. He watched their reflections in the mirror and found himself not flanked by his team, but standing beside his sisters on his wedding day. Riz lifted a hand wordlessly and John watched her swipe two fingers across her eyes, as if drawing them across the faceplate of her helmet. Kai copied the motion, their eyes never leaving him in the mirror. John’s chest twisted as he smiled and dropped his eyes from their reflection before he turned his head to press his lips to Kai’s temple. Riz offered her cheek to him as he turned to her.

“Riz! Kai! They’re here!”

Jane’s voice echoed down the hall, lifting their heads from his shoulders as they looked to the door. Kai called back to her before slipping out of the room and turning down the hallway. Riz gave his arm a squeeze before following Kai, pulling the door shut with a gentle click. John turned back to the mirror to straighten his jacket a final time and took a steadying breath before turning from the mirror to the window.

He watched as Riz stepped out between the rows of white chairs that faced the lake to where Jane stood, both women watching the small team of florists adjust the arrangements that decorated each row. Elliot chased Sadie across the lawn while Andy followed closely behind, watching his son intently to be sure the boy didn’t ruin the small suit he wore. John watched as Keyes crossed the lawn to where Bill stood with their hands outstretched in greeting as they regarded one another. Miranda followed behind him and greeted Kai as she approached, flanked by the group of Spartans that followed in their own dress uniforms as they looked around the property assessingly. John chuckled and shook his head as Jane approached, Violet’s plea for her mother to keep her hands to herself ignored as she pulled the Admiral into a hug before turning on the Spartans who watched her warily with open arms.

“You know, the bride is supposed to be the only one in white.”

Violet’s voice pulled him from the window. John turned to face her and felt his breath leave his chest at the sight of her in the doorway. John dragged his eyes over her and she smiled back at him with that bright Violet smile. She held a finger to her lips as she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, closing it carefully to not make a noise. She smoothed the front of the lacy gown as she turned back to him. John’s eyes lingered on the neckline for a moment and Violet laughed softly. Cortana pressed him to say something to her, but John couldn’t find a single word to describe just how beautiful she looked. Not a single synonym was capable of capturing it.

“Mrs. Harris was clear that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding, troublemaker.”

“Your mom said we couldn’t see each other. It’s not traditional.”

Violet scoffed as she lifted the skirts of her dress and crossed to where he stood. “Good thing we aren’t a traditional couple, then,” she remarked. He brought a hand to her waist as she stepped in front of him and traced his fingers over the floral lace that hugged her body.

“How do I look?” She asked softly. She rested her hands on his chest as she looked up at him, his hands cupping her face. He found himself caught in the green as he always had been as he looked down at her. Her curls were soft between his fingers as he brushed her hair over her shoulder and traced his fingers along the gentle curve of her spine.

“Perfect.” He murmured.

Violet brought a hand to his face and brushed her thumb across his cheek, “Katie is keeping watch. We have a few minutes before Mom or Riz notice that I’m missing.”

John turned his head towards the window, watching as Riz fussed with the buttons of Vannak’s uniform. He lowered his lips to her ear and Riz turned bright red before she swatted his shoulder with a tightlipped smile. Bill and Jane chatted with Keyes, and Kai stood beside Jane as the older woman adjusted the thin straps of her dress and scolded her over the dirt that already stained the hem of her skirt, “I think they’re both distracted.”

Violet laughed as she wrapped her arms around his middle, resting her head against his chest as she watched their combined families find their seats in the rows of white chairs. John wrapped his arms around her in return and pressed his lips to her head, careful not to disturb the length of sheer fabric that was pinned into her hair. She didn’t say a word as she stood in his embrace, both watching their families mingle together. Violet only lifted herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his jaw. He leaned into her lips; into the sweet, botanical smell of her shampoo and gentle kiss. She swiped away the residue of her lipstick with her thumb before he brought his forehead to hers.

She looked up at him with those green eyes that he had found himself in and John felt his chest twist as it always had. He had always known there was something peculiar in her gaze; in the tenderness and goodness she watched him with. It had struck him from that very first moment beside the pond. A curiosity he had mistaken it for before he understood exactly what that feeling was. That feeling only lingered as he tried to identify the way she stared at him that no one ever had before. He understood now that he had found himself in the eyes of his wife on that spring day in Tchakova Park. Her hands found his cheeks as she brushed her lips to his, his face in her hands as she kissed him.

“I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

He lifted her face to his again and brought his lips to hers, allowing the words to fill him up with the glow that he knew only in her presence. He had felt love only in his fractured memories; he had thought it existed only there in the ruins of his boyhood. A fleeting feeling that was not his to know again. He had known it in the presence of botanists so many years ago, and had found it again in the arms of the botanist who looked up at him like he deserved nothing more than the gilded haze of all of her love. She had told him before the bookshelves in her apartment that broken things deserved love and he had questioned it, unaware of how her love would repair him in every moment since.

“I love you, Goose,” he whispered against her lips.

“Violet and John!”

Jane’s shout pulled her lips from his as her head snapped towards the window. Jane marched across the lawn, her face as fiery red as her lips as she neared the window. They shared an amused look as Jane tapped on the glass, “You get out of there right now! I swear, you two are incorrigible!”

Violet giggled and pressed her lips to his a final time. Jane sputtered at the sight, “Out, Violet Renee! Now!”

“I’m going!” She muttered, throwing her hands up in defeat. She gathered her skirts in her hand, John helping her gather the fabric so that she wouldn’t trip as she stepped back towards the door. She turned over her shoulder a final time and smiled that Violet smile.

“I’ll see you soon, big guy,” she said softly. “I’ll be the one in white. Well, one of them, that is.”

John chuckled as she slipped back out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind her. Jane’s voice echoed down the hall as she shouted at Violet, her weak protests fading down the hallway as she returned to the room at the end of the hall. His door remained shut for only a moment before Jane entered, still airing her disappointment to Violet before she stepped in. The severe look she wore faded as she turned her focus to John and his botanist’s smile split the face of her mother. Jane pressed a hand to her chest as she looked up at him, tears welling in her dark eyes.

“Oh, my sweet boy,” she breathed. “You look so handsome.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

Jane crossed the room to him and reached up. John leaned down so she could take her face in his hands and press her lips to his cheek. She kept his face in her strong grip as she looked up at him.

“You can’t give her back, John.” Her tone was serious, but John noticed the way the corners of her mouth lifted with her words. “You’re stuck with her now. No returns, no exchanges.”

He chuckled and Jane patted his cheek with a ringed hand. She had no idea just how content he was with being stuck with Violet Harris.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jane smiled again before releasing him and allowing him to straighten up. She nodded towards the window to the filled chairs that sat on the lawn, the evening sun casting pinky glows across the waters of the lake.

“It’s time,” she announced happily. “Ready, sweetheart?”

He only nodded and offered his mother-in-law his arm.

He walked Jane across the lawn to where his family sat. Every Spartan that wasn’t actively deployed sat behind Keyes and Miranda, towering over Violet’s extended family as they nodded to him. He couldn’t remember the last time they all had been together. Never for an occasion such as this. Jane pressed her lips to his cheek again before taking her seat, whispering excitedly to those seated around her as she sat.

All eyes turned to him as John took his place before the lake. He had been acutely aware of every gawking stare he had received, had become used to the spectacle he became to others, but he found himself unminding of the stares as he watched his family step out of the kiva and start down the aisle to the song Violet had picked. He watched as Riz took Vannak’s arm, blushing again at something he whispered to her as she gripped the small bouquet she carried. They started down the aisle towards him, Vannak blinking rapidly so that John couldn’t see the tears that threatened to slip down his cheeks as they neared. John smirked as they separated and took their places on either side of him.

“Going soft on me?” John muttered as Vannak stood beside him.

“Fuck off.”

Kai followed behind them with Sadie’s leash gripped in one hand as the dog trotted down the aisle, sniffing happily at the seated guests as her tail waggled. John snapped his fingers at his side when the dog became distracted by sniffing Val’s pant leg and Sadie’s eyes snapping back up to him as she corrected her course. Meredith and Katie followed behind, their arms linked as they smiled up at him. They took their places that they had so carefully practiced the night before and John found himself surrounded by his family as the music changed and their guests stood. He had picked this song; it played beyond her windows that first night she kissed him.

Elliot trotted down the aisle with Elize’s hand gripped in his own, a chorus of adoring noises following them both as his niece and nephew toddled towards where their grandmother sat with arms outstretched for them. Elliot raised a tiny thumb to John after he sat in Jane’s lap and met his uncle with a serious stare. John returned the boy’s gesture before turning his eyes to the lights of the deck.

Bill stepped out of the doors first and held out a hand through the doorway. Violet took his hand and stepped out, a few soft murmurs falling over the rows of chairs as she took her father’s arm. Bill patted her hand and leaned down to whisper to her before kissing her cheek. Her eyes found John’s as they started across the deck to the lawn, meeting his with all of that warmth with each step she took towards him.

As she neared, he knew he’d never need to count the steps across the park and down Cornelia Street to the white building again. Nor stop to stare at the lights on the pond and wonder what home felt like, or what kind of man would come after him and stand where he stood now. He had searched those waters and pinpricks of lights for a reason. For the humanity that hummed around him as it bustled through the park. For something to fill the hollowness that consumed him in every moment since he removed the pellet, unsure of what he lacked to fill that space. He searched for home, and what would guide him to that home like the lights that beckoned on the waters. He knew that the home he longed for only looked to him now as his wife walked to him on her father’s arm.

He found his home in Violet Harris. In gentle touches and green eyes and that too bright smile. That smile would guide him home every time.

Violet stopped in front of him and turned to hug her father tightly. Katie stepped forward to take the bouquet she carried and those eyes returned to him with that Violet smile as she reached out her hand to him.

He reached back and took the hand of his wife.

#halo fanfic #halo tv show #master chief #master chief/oc #romance #romcom in space #au #halo fanfiction #not canon compliant #silver timeline #john 117/oc #john 117 #spring in tchakova park

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winchester-girl67 · 2 years ago

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Imagine... Wearing Dean's Boxers

Requested by anonymous: “Hi , idk if we can request but can i have a dean or Sam x reader. Where she comes out of the bedroom in his boxers with just a bra on and everyone (aka cas , jack etc.) just observe her because she hasnt notice them yet and dean/sam is just stunned. She probaly just came for water . Plz and thank you . Is it possible i can be tag also . No rush.”

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 828

Warnings: language, implied smut, talks of safe sex and procreation, mostly fluff

A/N: I kind of love Cas and Jack in this one :) Enjoy!

_____

Sam nudged Dean with his foot under the table when you walked into the kitchen. Cas and Jack watched as you made a beeline for the cupboard and reached up on your tip-toes to grab a glass from the top shelf.

Sam kept rearranging everything every time you left for a hunt and you just got back from a solo one last night. He thought the mugs should be lower since they were used for coffee more often, but you didn't drink coffee and hated having to stretch up for the glasses. Next time he left you’d switch it all back again. You weren’t the one who was gonna cave first.

Dean cleared his throat and you fumbled the glass in your hands, catching it before it hit the countertop. You shot him a dirty look for scaring you and started again when you spotted the boys. Cas and Jack watched with curious expressions while Sam avoided all eye contact and turned beet red.

You had a kind of will-they-won’t-they relationship going on with Dean since you’d moved into the bunker and last night after a close call with a demon, you finally did. But you weren’t expecting the others to find out this way. Standing in the kitchen dressed in your good bra and Dean’s Scooby-Doo boxers which hugged your hips and the gentle curve of your thighs.

You wrapped an arm around your bare stomach wishing you had stopped to change in your room first, but it was in the opposite direction of the kitchen and you were damn thirsty after the late night’s more amorous activities.

Fuck it, you thought after a moment of self-consciousness and went back to filling your glass with ice cold tap water. You chugged it down and wiped your chin before refilling it again; a few droplets hit your chest and ran down the valley of your breasts. You made a satisfying ‘Ah’ sound and placed the glass in the sink.

Dean was biting his lip when you turned back to face the boys who were sitting at the table with breakfast laid out in front of them. Jack had some sort of chocolatey cereal, Sam had a kale salad of course, and Dean had a plate stacked full of just bacon. You sauntered over and stole the crispy piece Dean had in his hand and smiled.

Dean huffed and frowned and Sam chuckled as he pushed around his kale and vinaigrette. That’s when you noticed Jack staring at your chest and you scrunched your forehead in return.

"What's that?" He asked before you could snap at him for being rude, although you knew he didn’t know any better especially with Dean as a role model. "Did you get hurt?" He pointed to the purple splotch above your clavicle.

And it was your turn to turn all rosy as you shook your head. "Uh, Dean, you wanna answer this one?" It was a hickey, a lover’s bite; Dean’s mark to be exact.

"Nope, I'm good." He said, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth and grinning up at you as he subtly eyed his handiwork. It wasn’t the only one, but it was the darkest one.

Jack looked confused, “Why would Dean know what happened?" He asked you but then furrowed his brow at Dean who just shrugged.

"I think this has something to do with the giggling and provocative language we heard coming from his bedroom last night." Cas explained, “They're marks of mating."

"Thank you, Cas." Dean said around a mouthful of half chewed bacon and coughed when he inhaled a piece.

Cas slapped him on the back, dislodging the bacon. “You're welcome." He said, missing the sarcasm in Dean’s voice.

“Wait,” Jack raised his hand and thought for a moment, “Am I going to be a big brother? Just like Dean?!”

“Uh, Dean?” You said, not wanting to answer.

You were hardly there in your relationship yet. If it was a relationship, you and Dean hadn’t hammered out the details. Though you hammered out a few other things…

Dean cleared his throat, “Cas?”

Cas took the opportunity to explain again, “Yes, it is my understanding that mating leads to procreation.”

Jack beamed at the thought and bounced in his seat like a giddy child. Sam snorted and spit out the bite of kale he just took. He laughed, clearly and thoroughly enjoying himself at yours and his brother’s expense.

You and Dean had taken the necessary precautions and someone was going to have to explain that to Jack and probably Cas too; but that sure as hell wasn’t going to be you. That sounded more like a Dean job.

“Oh my gosh,” you sighed into your palm and shook your head.

Sure, the night before was like you and Dean were making up for lost time, but you never thought you’d be the one things were moving too fast for. Though, there’s a first for everything.

_________________________ Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891

Forever SPN: @hobby27

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starks-hero · 4 years ago

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Right a Wrong

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You, Sam and Bucky get to work repairing Sam’s family boat. Turns out the boat isn’t the only thing in need of fixing. But with help from you and Sam, Bucky figures some stuff out.

Word Count: 3,745

Warnings: a bit of a make-out session but not enough to be classed as smut, tfatws spoilers! 1x05

a/n: This is a direct result of watching episode 5 too many times. Spoilers below!

|| Part Two ||

Small waves lapped gently against the dock and the afternoon sun warmed your back as you worked on the old boat.

You were standing side by side with Bucky, crowbar in hand as you attempted to pry off the old metal cleats from the boats side, whilst he expertly pulled rusted pipes apart and threw them into a pile. As if on queue, one of the pipes on the opposite side of the ship burst, hissing and spurting out white clouds of steam. You marvelled at how quickly Bucky reacted, quickly crossing the deck and sealing the leak with an abrupt upward turn of the pipe with his metal arm.

"Where did you learn so much about fixing boats?" You teased, motioning to the now fixed pipe with your crowbar. Bucky dusted off his hands.

"I used to work on the docks in Brooklyn before the war." He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and taking a seat on a crate next to you. "I picked up a few things."

He furthered his point by leaning over and pulling at the cleat you'd been grappling with. It came away from where it was attached to the boat's side with ease in Buckys iron grip. He smirked as he tossed the scrap aside and you rolled your eyes.

"Show off."

Bucky chuckled, sitting back as Sam stepped onto the boat. He was carrying a crate in one hand and shook his head when he noticed Bucky's smirk and your dismissive smile.

"Alright, you two." He placed the crate down and pulled out two green bottles, throwing one to Bucky and handing you the other. "Beer break."

Sam took a seat across from you both and you sighed as you opened your beer, raising it up to Bucky.

His annoyance was discredited by the fond smile that broke through his expression as he begrudgingly clinked his bottle with yours. You reached over and did the same with Sam as the three of you relaxed under the heat of the Louisiana sun.

"It's starting to look good," you noted as you glanced around the boat and Sam smiled.

"Yeah, it's coming together." He took a swig of his beer. "You know, Sarah and I were talking." He started and both you and Bucky glanced up at him. "And we could use the help. Don't suppose you two would consider staying around a while? Just till we get a lead on Karli."

The offer caused a noticeable smile to pull at your lips whilst Bucky shifted beside you at Sam's words. His agitation grew and he stood.

"I've got my plane to catch tomorrow, a hotel room for the night," he said, raising his bottle to his lips to hide his doubt. He really didn't have that much of a plan beyond that.

"You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?" Sam asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Well, I don't want to make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here," Sam said and you couldn't help but nod subconsciously. The truth was you really didn't really want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's and spending the day fixing up an old run-down family boat that made everything seem so normal. It gave you a sense of home, a sense of normality that you hadn't had in a long time. For a while, it even made you forget about the flag smashers, Walker, all of it. It was a much-needed break.

"The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or if you've got six toes or if your mom is your aunt-"

You laughed and Bucky barely hid a chuckle behind a huff of breath and a bright smile.

"Okay, I get it. The people are nice."

You placed your bottle aside and turned to Sam.

"You're sure Sarah doesn't mind?" you asked and Sam's smile only widened.

"She's the one that offered."

Grinning, you sat back and nodded. "Then I don't see why not."

"See?" Sam pointed to you and then Bucky. "Just stay, man."

Bucky shuffled his feet for a moment before finally answering with a begrudging, "Okay. Alright." He didn't say anything else as he turned and walked down the boat.

"He'll come around. He probably just wants his space." You said, picking up your beer. Sam nodded, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I hope you're right."

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in a while. Your hands and back hurt slightly from the tiring work on the boat, but it was a dull ache compared to the constant throbbing that came after a mission. Your cheeks were warm, surely as a result of the hours spent out in the sun the day before.

Both you and Bucky stayed the night. Sarah had offered you the spare room and after a solid fifteen minutes of bickering, you finally conceded to Bucky and agreed to sleep in the guest bed. He took the couch.

The sun was just beginning to rise up over the water when you and Bucky both headed back out to the boat. Sam joined you not long after. You worked until mid-afternoon, reluctantly taking short breaks. You fell into a quick rhythm as you worked around the boat. Surprisingly, the three of you seemed to make a pretty decent team off of the battlefield.

"Hey, can you pass me a 12-300?" Sam asked from under the boat's control panel. Bucky reached into the toolbox and placed the wrench in Sam's outstretched hand. A few seconds later Sam was rolling out from under the controls and glaring disapprovingly at Bucky.

"What?"

"I asked for a 12-300," Sam stated plainly. "This is a 10-250."

"No, it's not." Bucky bit back.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, geniuses." You cut their bickering short as both men turned to look at you. You held up the grease-slick wrench that had been misplaced and tossed it to Sam. "You left it below deck when you were working on the engine."

Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' as he got back to work. Silence settled over the three of you for a few minutes until Sam decided it was getting awkward.

"So, are you still planning on leaving tonight?" He asked from under the station and Bucky nodded, before realising Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said loud enough for Sam to hear. "I'll be out of your way soon."

You could hear Sam's sigh from beneath you as he clambered back to his feet and stood between you and the super-soldier leaning against the wall of the cabin.

"Well, there's no hurry."

Sam didn't say anything else as he cleaned the oil and grease from his hands with a cloth and stepped off the boat. Bucky sighed and let his head fall back behind him.

"Go," you ordered plainly and he looked up at you.

"What?"

"Go," you said again, nodding your head towards where Sam was walking away. "You both need to talk. Bucky, whatever you're not saying, it's getting to you. So go talk to him."

Bucky hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glared at nothing in particular but his gaze softened when it found you and he muttered a quiet, 'fine.' You stepped aside as he made his way past you and stepped up onto the dock, heading after Sam.

"And don't be a smart ass!" You called after him. He didn't reply, but you could only hope that Sam and Bucky's conversation would be somewhat constructive.

"Nice shot!" You retrieved the football from the back of the goal as Cass, Sam's eldest nephew, celebrated his score.

Once Sam and Bucky had left the boat, you had headed back to the house, helping Sarah with any errands or chores, doing anything you could to help out. Sam and Bucky had been gone a little over an hour and you didn't know if that meant their talk was going very well or very not. You'd been sitting rather uselessly on the couch, waiting in anticipation, when Sam's nephews had invited you to play a game of football. And how could you refuse?

You tossed the ball back to the boys who eagerly pounced at it. You were stood in the small goal, allowing both boys to take as many shots as they wanted. AJ stepped forward and kicked the ball, groaning when it flew off to the left, a few meters away from where you were standing and missed the net entirely. He glanced down at the ground, disheartened.

“Hey, it's alright, AJ.” You smiled as you ran to grab the ball and passed it back to him. “Come on, try again.”

With encouragement from his brother, he took the shot and this time the ball planted itself in the top corner of the goal. Both boys cheered as they celebrated and you smiled. You dusted yourself off, your knees and hands covered in dust from the football game as you turned to head back inside the house. Both boys protested as you left but you promised them you'd be back. The more time you spent with AJ, Cass, Sam and Sarah, the more you didn't want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's that made you feel content. It was homely and offered a sense of normality that the last few weeks had caused you to miss.

You entered the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Sarah had told you over and over again to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, glass in hand and just basked in the feeling of not having to worry about donning a suit and risking your life at a moments notice. It was something you could get used to.

“That was adorable.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a voice and you found Bucky joining you in the kitchen. He was smirking fondly.

“You and the boys.”

You chuckled softly and shrugged. “They're sweet kids.”

Bucky nodded, pulling a glass of his own from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. It furthered the sense of domesticity that you were really starting to love. He took a seat at the table across from you.

“So,” you started as you placed your own glass aside. “How did it go? You and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled and you couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or genuine, but something about the grin that lingered on his lips had you banking on the latter.

‘‘Not bad,” he admitted eventually with a shrug. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We talked. He said if I'm going to fix anything, if I'm going to get what's left of him out of my mind.” Bucky subconsciously ran his hand across his temple. “I'm going to have to put in the work. Help the people I wronged instead of just saying sorry.”

You nodded, silently making a note to thank Sam later on. He always had a way with words, he could always get through to people. That's why he was given the shield.

“He's got a point.”

Bucky scoffed and hung his head at your words. “I should have known you'd be on his side.” There was no hostility in his words. He just sounded amused, and maybe a little tired.

“I don't think this comes down to whose side I'm on, Bucky. We both want what's best for you.” You answered honestly and Bucky glimpsed up at you. He anxiously toyed with his hands as you spoke, looking vulnerable, and slightly lost despite how hard he tried to hide it. You knew Sam had already spoken to him, but it couldn't hurt for you to say something as well.

“Look Bucky, telling yourself that you're okay and that everything that happened doesn't matter anymore because you've made 'amends' isn't going to help.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “I know,” he admitted quietly.

“And I know you're probably tired of hearing this but, you're not him anymore, Bucky. You're not the winter soldier. Everything you did whilst you were him wasn't your choice. Just because you remember it doesn't mean that it was your fault. It's not your responsibility to fix it.”

Bucky sighed but didn't interrupt. He was listening. This wasn't like the therapist that he was forced to sit in front of and lie to every other week. This was someone he trusted, someone whose words he valued. Someone he honestly believed could help. He sighed but nodded to show that he was still listening.

“I think Sam’s right,” you said. “It might not be your responsibility to fix everything that went wrong but trying could help. It could give you that closure that you keep chasing after. You need to let go, Bucky. You need to forgive yourself. Maybe you just need the people who are hurting to forgive you first. Then you can learn how to do the same.”

Bucky's expression was unreadable. So many emotions flashed across his eyes you found it difficult to pinpoint just one.

“How do I start?” he asked quietly. It just seemed impossible. There were so many people he'd hurt, so many people he'd wronged. He'd left children as orphans, wives as widows and parents childless. How could he possibly start trying to fix or make all those people feel in any way better?

You smiled softly at his question. “Small. One at a time,” you said simply. “Then just keep putting one in front of the other.”

Bucky considered your words, glancing down at his hands as he thought. Before long, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can't decide who'd make a better therapist. You or Sam,” he joked and you laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

“Well, Sam did council veterans so I think he takes that title.”

“I'd say it's pretty tied,” Bucky said, walking across the kitchen and standing next to you as he washed his glass, drying it off and placing it back on the shelf. The room fell into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said after a moment, his tone sincere and his expression genuine as he looked at you. You nodded, gently placing your hand against his shoulder.

“Don't mention it. You know I'm always here if you need to talk.”

The sound of a football colliding with the wall dangerously close to the window followed by two voice's loudly shouting, 'sorry!' in unison drew a quaint laugh from you both.

“Duty calls.” You grinned, patting Bucky on the back as you passed him. “Team Wilson is missing its goalkeeper.”

Bucky chuckled, watching you go. You crossed the kitchen but his voice stopped you just as your hand reached the doors handle.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around to face him and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more apprehensive than he had before.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to tell you what was on his mind.

“I was just thinking things over and you know, I’m leaving today,” he hesitated slightly before glancing up at you. “And I guess I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

Your hand slipped from where it was still holding the brass handle of the door. You tilted your head as your mind fully processed his question. The shock must have been evident in your expression as Bucky rushed to continue.

“I know you're planning on staying here and I get why.” He pulled a tattered red book from his pocket which you immediately recognized as Steve’s. He began absentmindedly turning the pages, running his fingers over the paper. “I want to try and start fixing things, making things right. But truth is I have no idea where to start. I thought that maybe you could help me with that?”

“I thought you wanted your space," you admitted after a moment.

“No.” He shook his head. “That's the last thing I want.”

You thought it over, resting your back against the door. Bucky trusted you, evidently a lot more than you thought he did. Not only was he comfortable enough telling you how he felt and admitting he didn't know what to do next. But he also wanted you with him. It was clear he was holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you by admitting just how badly he wanted you to go with him. But the way he eagerly watched you as he waited patiently for your answer was a dead give away.

You wanted to help Bucky, you wanted to be there for him. If that meant helping him right his wrongs and staying with him during that trying time, at least until Sam got a lead on Karli and the Flag Smashers, then you were more than happy to comply.

“You're sure about this?” you asked and Bucky pushed off the counter and crossed the room, stopping just in front of you.

“Absolutely.” His voice dropped down to a hushed whisper. “Come with me.” His hand gently caught your wrist, his fingers running up your arm. His face was inches from yours now, your breaths mingling. “Please?”

His lips pressed to yours before you could answer and you immediately kissed back. Your hand fell against his shoulder, the other laying gently against the nape of his neck. He groaned quietly against you, his arms finding your waist as he gently guided you backwards till your back met the wall. He pressed into you, his hands roaming up your body and you moaned as he deepened the kiss.

“Yes.” You answered when he pulled away slightly and he smiled against you, relieved. Neither of you said anything else as Bucky sighed and pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between your legs as he pinned you to the wall.

God, he'd wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to kiss you, to feel you against him. He wanted you. Your hand slipped into his hair and you pulled him closer, smirking against him. You'd wanted this just as bad. And you both only had your own stubbornness to blame for taking so damn long. It didn't matter now though. Not as he gently bit down on your lower lip and you slipped your hand under his shirt and felt up his chest. It all felt so natural, so right.

“Ten minutes.”

Both your eyes flew open at the all too familiar voice, Bucky pulling away from you so quickly he only barely avoided falling over a nearby chair.

“I left you two alone to talk for ten minutes,” Sam repeated from where he was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. You tried to subtly smoothen out your clothes whilst Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair.

“We were,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. “We were talking. We...talked.”

Sam nodded, entirely unconvinced, and smirked. He reclined against the counter, showing no sign of leaving anytime soon. A painfully awkward silence settled over the kitchen as Sam continued to shift his knowing stare from you to Bucky.

The humiliation of the entire situation seemed to get to Bucky first as he clasped his hands together after less than a minute.

“You know, what? I'm leaving in a few hours and I've got to pack so I better just go-” Bucky rambled as he shot you a subtle apologetic look before turning to Sam, who was nodding along in faux agreement to his pathetic attempt of an excuse.

Bucky quickly crossed the kitchen, Sam harshly patting him on the back as he passed him and left the room. Leaving just you and Sam alone. You turned to your friend and found that he was still grinning at you with that same mischievous look in his eyes. You felt like a deer in headlights. In an attempt to act as though Sam hadn't just walked in on you and Bucky making out, you tried making normal conversation.

“Sam, there was actually something I wanted to tell you. I know I said I was going to stay for a while but I guess there's been a change of plan. I-”

“I know.” He cut you off and his smile only widened when you looked at him in utter confusion. “You honestly think he would have asked you to go with him if I didn't tell him to get his shit together first?”

Your confusion slowly melted away and was replaced with a look of disbelief. You laughed despite yourself. You should have known Sam had something to do with it. ‘‘How long have you been playing cupid?” you asked jokingly and Sam chuckled.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than he wants to admit,” Sam said, tone now more serious than before. “Things will be fine here, I'll call you as soon as Torres finds us something to work with. But right now, he needs your help before that hole he's stuck in gets too deep for him to climb out of.”

You sighed as the weight of Sam's words set in. He was right, Bucky really did need you. That wasn't a responsibility you could afford to take lightly. Not that you planned to.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said genuinely and Sam smirked as he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He could tell you needed it.

“Anytime.” He pulled away and offered you a warning glare. “But I swear, if you two making out the minute I turn my back becomes a regular thing I'm going to kick both your asses.”

“Got it,” you nodded, barely stifling a laugh.

Sam's scowl melted into a smile and he motioned towards the stairs. “Go on, get your things together. You've got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

You smiled and headed upstairs after Bucky. Sam leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. Getting you two together had taken more work than he'd thought. But he knew it would be worth it, you both needed each other. Whether you were willing to admit it or not. And Sam was confident that if there was anyone that could help Bucky and offer him that sense of home and peace that he was so desperately craving, it was you.

tag list: @bakerstreethound @miraclesoflove @doozywoozy @kealohilani-tepise

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years ago

Text

Bent, not broken 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; fingering, mean Steve, watching, manipulation, poly dynamic-ish

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Tomorrow we’ll have an Andy one shot (we’ll see if it stays that way ahah) but first enjoy this depraved pair.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The soldier pushed you ahead of him. You limped as you hugged your sore ribs, his steps echoing around you ominously. He directed you around endless corners and stopped you at a door.

He reached around you to push it open and pointed you inside. As he came close, you once more caught a stench of the blood and dirt in his hair. You entered and he followed, the door clanging loudly.

The bedroom was spacious and lived-in, unlike much of the immense hideaway. There was another set of tall windows looking out into the mountain passes and a large bed against the other wall. You rubbed your upper arms as you looked around and in the milieu of the room, you saw the existence of these two men, if they were still that.

You felt a tug on the back of your dress and as you glanced back at Bucky, he pulled your skirt up roughly and snapped his fingers. You stared at him as he unbuckled the holster around his shoulders and retreated.

You watched him cross to a metal cabinet with the same censor lock as your door. He opened it and carefully placed each weapon strapped to his body inside. He closed the door harshly and glared at you as he unzipped the slanted zipper of his jacket. He shrugged out of it and tossed it over one of the ample armchairs.

He pulled off his long-sleeved shirt and set it pointedly atop the disposed jacket. He tilted his head and neared you, curling his fingers under the straps of your dress and lifted them.

You lowered your chin and raised your arms slowly. He stripped you in a single swoop and you shivered as you stood naked before him. His breath grew gristled and deliberate as his fingertips traced the line of your collar bone then the curve of your chest and waist. He lingered on your rib cage and pressed more firmly. You flinched and he dropped his hands.

He shook his head and turned away, pointing to a door just opposite him. You followed the gesture and carefully crossed the room, peeking back at him nervously. You pushed through the door and entered the equally astounding bathroom.

The round chamber was walled completely in glass and the plunge below made your stomach sink. A vast, round, stone tub stood central to the room, a large showerhead hung above, the floor built in a precise mosaic as an arced counter lined the left wall. It was unlike anything you’d seen before and belonged on one of those ridiculous lifestyle shows that featured houses you could never afford.

You heard a step behind you and looked over your shoulder. Bucky had removed his stained ribbed tank and his boots, his hands loosing the belt at his waist. He nodded to the tall taps and you went over to twist each and tested the temperature from the faucet as it spouted to life.

You heard the rustle of fabric and the clink of his buckle. His bare feet slapped on the floor as he neared and he nudged your hip as he stepped over the side of the tub pulled down the stopper. The stone basin began to fill as you climbed over the high wall and lowered yourself opposite him, just beside the faucet as you folded your legs.

You felt his eyes on you as he let his legs sprawl out, the tub big enough to do so. He sat forward as the water crested his thighs and grabbed your arm. He drew you over to him and you let him guide your body around and against his. He nestled you between his legs and drew your back against his hard front. He took a deep breath and bent his knees to cradle you as he reclined.

You shivered as the water grew higher and watched the foam as the falling stream met the surface. As it reached just an inch below the rim, he pointed over your shoulder and you slid forward to turn off the flow. You sat back and he slung his arms around your middle. You felt his heart beating, quickly at first, and then it slowed as the hot water lulled you.

You sat like that for a while before he gently moved you away from him. He took a cloth folded over the rack and a bottle from the shelf below. He moved toward you through the water and urged you up onto your knees. He began with a drop of the soap on the cloth and washed your neck and chest softly. He kept on, lifting you to your feet until he got every inch of you, then handed over the cloth.

You took it and unfolded it then folded it outside in. You lathered it with fresh soap and looked at his muscled chest. There were some shallow cuts along his flesh and down his arm. As you got the scars that lined the conjunction of flesh and metal, he stopped you and led your hand back to his stomach. He pushed his metal arm back as he watched you scrub away the grime on his body.

You shied away around his intimate parts but he pulled your hand back. You washed him as quickly as you could and when you were done, he took the cloth and tossed it in a wad beside the bottle of soap. He sat you back down and had you clean his sweaty hair with aromatic shampoo, little groans slipping out each time you touched his scalp.

The water was cold when at last he pulled the stopper and stood. He helped you up with a mechanical yank on your arm and guided you out of the tub. He gave you a towel and took one for himself. He pointed you back into the bedroom with two fingers and you obeyed.

He followed and went to the closet. He pulled out a navy blue tee and crossed to you. He pushed it into your hand and parted again. He dried himself and slipped into a pair of flannel pajama pants. He went to the bed and flopped onto his back with a pitiful sigh.

You glanced over as he looked at you. You patted your skin with the towel and pulled on the large tee. You left your towel with his and went to him as he sidled over on the mattress. He drew you down to lay against him and dropped his arm over your middle. You felt him inhale your scent and his hot breath grazed your scalp.

You still felt him between your legs, his rough fingers against your walls, the noise of his ravenous grunts as he tortured you. You held in a quiver and closed your eyes. For now, he was docile and that was the most you could hope for.

★

You were half-asleep when you heard the door. Bucky was snoring into your hair and didn’t rouse as you turned under his arm and peeked past him. Steve shut the door, certain to snap it into the frame so that the man beside you snorted and woke. The soldier sat up and rubbed his eyes, his hand on your leg, and he squeezed as he looked at the other man.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed as he paced along the bottom of the bed, “you smell better at least.”

He came around your side and you leaned away from him as he reached to tug at the neck of the tee. He let it go sharply and dropped his hand to his hip.

“If you wanna sleep,” he snarled over your head, “you can go right ahead but I haven’t even got a taste.”

You were jarred as Steve grabbed the back of your neck and forced you onto your knees. He pushed you down onto your face as your legs were caught beneath you. He slapped your ass hard and you cried out. The bed jostled and you glanced back as far as you could as Bucky clung to Steve’s wrist and kept him from doing it again.

“What did you think would happen when you took her, soldat?” Steve hissed dryly, “hmm? You think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t want to share?”

Steve kept you pinned as he remained in a deadlock with the metal arm. You whimpered as he squeezed and sent a pang down your spine. You reached back to grasp his wrist and kicked your feet.

“Fine, you want her, you get her,” Steve retracted his hand and yanked away from Bucky, “go ahead and fuck her already.” You shakily lifted yourself on your arms as you sensed the intense gaze above you. Steve pushed you back down and barked, “no, just like that.” He rapped his knuckles on your skull before he stepped back, “get behind her and let her feel who you really are.”

“Please,” you begged, “I… he doesn’t want to.”

You looked at Bucky, his jaw ticked as his eyes sparked. He swallowed through his tight throat and you turned back to Steve as he cracked his knuckles and drew a chair up and sat. He put his feet up on the end of the bed and crossed one leg over the other.

“Is that what you think? You think he cares about you?” Steve leaned his head against his fingers, “he’s just a machine. A tool. He doesn’t think, he only wants and takes.” He pushed his head back and let his arm straighten, “I almost think it wasn’t an accident, just an excuse.”

You tried to push yourself up again and Bucky shoved your shoulder back down. He grabbed one wrist and then the other and pulled them behind your back. He locked them in one hand and his other rippled the fabric of the tee shirt.

“I’m right, huh?” Steve taunted, “this is what you wanted all along. Her tight little cunt.”

“Please,” you whispered as struggled, “please, you can stop him--”

“Who said I wanted to?” Steve snarled, “he’s right, this thing between us has gotten a bit dull so why not try something new?”

You sniffed as tears pricked and you pushed your head up as far as you could. You looked over your shoulder and wriggled as you tried to free your wrists.

“Please, Bucky, please, I know that there’s someone still in there,” you begged, “I know it. You saved me. Maybe you hurt me but you helped me too. If you’d left me, I would’ve died--”

“Yes, you would’ve,” Steve snickered, “and you should be wishing you had. Soldat, I wanna hear her scream.”

You gasped in fear as the captain’s icy eyes bore into yours. There was not a mortal in there, only some unloving monster. Bucky tore your shirt up and it split along the middle to the neck. You reached to the end of the mattress and tried to drag yourself away. Steve hit your hands with his heels so that you retracted them with a whimper.

“Please, no,” you sobbed as Bucky gripped your hips and hauled you back against him, “don’t… this isn’t you, I know it, I know it. You don’t want to hurt me, I saw it--”

Your voice turned to a wisp as he shoved two metal fingers deep in your cunt. You whined and quivered around him as he curled them against the rough patch along the front of your walls. He wiggled his hand until the pressure swelled at his fingertips and you muffled your pathetic mewls in the blankets.

“Y- y- you…” you looked up at Steve and wiped your face as Bucky tore his fingers out of you, “you’re evil.”

“Yeah,” he smirked and ran his fingers along his lips, “I think that’s obvious.”

You turned your face down and bent your arms around your head. You felt Bucky shift behind you and the fabric brush against your thighs as he pushed his pants down. He leaned against you and led his tip between your cheeks. You sucked in air and braced yourself as he lined himself up with your entrance.

He slid his tip into you and you exhaled. You clawed the blanket as he slowly impaled you, your lungs empty and painful as he came to his limit. Your walls stretched around him in agony and you bit down on a wrinkle in the duvet and groaned.

“Oh, aren’t you being so sweet, Buck?” Steve sneered, “hmmm, she’s drooling, huh?”

You lifted your head and blinked at him with a scowl. You flicked your lashes through your tears and your nostrils flared in disgust.

“She’s so quiet,” Steve held your glare and cupped his ear, “I’m waiting.”

Bucky pulled back and snapped his hips against your ass. You hissed through your teeth as a wave of pain rolled up your back and scoured your hips. You lifted yourself on your arms as your eyes clung to the captain’s and you clenched your jaw as the soldier thrust again. You huffed through your nose as your arms quaked with each cruel tilt.

“Harder,” Steve ordered as his grin fell.

Bucky obeyed and slammed into you so hard, your legs tingled and your pelvis felt as if it would crack. You moaned and gritted your teeth. He held you steady as he pounded into you, flesh clapping loudly as stifled grunts escaped him. You grimaced as your eyes wetted and the tears trickled down your nose.

“More,” Steve stood and walked along the bottom of the bed as he looked you over, “faster.

Again, his demand was met fervently. You keened and grasped the blankets as the whole bed shook with the frantic fucking. You hung your head as your voice droned from you in a barely muffled whine. You shook your head as you were blinded by your tears and you sniffed as the pain overflowed and drowned out any hint of pleasure.

You gulped as Bucky bent over you, his sweaty torso to your back and snaked his arm around you. He pulled you with him as he sat back on his heels and moved you in his lap, lifting you only to crash your body back down so that your ribs throbbed with each descent. You latched onto his wrist and touched his stomach as you tried to slow him.

“Let it out,” Steve said as he put a knee on the bed, “almost there… this can be over, all you have to do is scream. I know you want to.”

“Why?” you rasped thinly as your nails dug into Bucky’s arm.

“Ask him, I’m sure you’ll get an answer,” Steve got closer and framed your hips with his hand, pushing you down hard with his hands around Bucky’s, “that’s it.”

You exclaimed as the sheer agony rippled through you and you flung a hand out to slap Steve. You missed and hit his shoulder instead. He grabbed your wrists and pulled them above you, holding your arms up as his eyes trailed down and he watched Bucky guide your motion.

“Not inside her,” Steve warned as the grunts grew louder, “we don’t need that shit.”

Steve yanked you up and dropped you onto the mattress. You folded and wrapped an arm around your leg as you daintily touched your tortured cunt. Steve pushed on Bucky’s shoulder until he fell onto his back and leaned in to kiss him as he grabbed his dick. He stroked him firmly until the muscle flexed beneath his skin.

Bucky tossed his head back and came as the captain led him through his climax. Steve didn’t stop until the soldier winced and stopped him with a gasp. He drew his hand away as the other man reclined and turned to you. He grabbed the back of your head and made you sit up as he faced you.

Steve held up his slimy hand and pressed a finger to your lips and poked inside, “you can clean it up…” he growled, “like his good little pet.”

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tsukishumai · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: miya osamu x gn!reader genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, slow burn word count: 3.2k summary: In which Osamu finds that the stranger lurking outside his store window has a connection to his restaurant that he could have never expected.

Osamu remembers every single face that has walked through the doors of Onigiri Miya since the day they’ve opened. He has yet to hire another worker, manning all stations of his business himself. The rush hours always provided him with a bit of a heavy work load, but Osamu has learned a lot about diligence and patience. Business had been good enough; traffic was steady throughout the day, and he had his fair share of regulars whose orders he had already memorized.

The stuffy, salt-and-pepper haired man in the pressed three-piece suit always ordered two umeboshi onigiri and a medium iced green tea. The kind old woman that ran the shop across the street would come in for his salted salmon, and if he had extra, Osamu would throw in an extra tuna mayo. She’d always smile and give him a pat on the shoulder, her eyes crinkling in a way that reminded Osamu of his grandmother.

It was when the shopkeeper had slowly walked out of his establishment and back to her own that Osamu noticed you standing a few feet away from his storefront. You had been wearing a face mask, but Osamu could see that you were staring at his sign. Your eyes squinted at the block letters that looked down at you, before they trailed down to land directly on Osamu. You seemed a little startled at the fact that his eyes were already staring at you, but you were standing outside his restaurant, weren’t you?

Before he could lift a hand to wave you in, you quickly turned and walked away.

Every few days, either during the dinner or lunch rush, Osamu would catch a glimpse of you outside of his restaurant. You’d stare at his sign for a few seconds; maybe glance at the menu board that stood a few feet away from his entrance, or look at the pictures of his full menu taped to the restaurant window. he would see the way you studied each item, yet you always walked the opposite direction.

It bothered Osamu. Why didn’t you want to come in? Did his menu look boring? Was his sign uninviting? Is his decoration too traditional? Should he have made it look a little more modern? He grumbled to himself about it each time you peeked in, and walked away. Why do you bother coming so often if you didn’t want to try his food? Osamu huffed.

It wasn’t until four weeks later, when Osamu had posted three brand new flavors on his menu board that you finally deemed his restaurant worthy enough to step in.

You had stopped by a little bit later than usual today, the dinner rush had come and gone, and the only ones left in the restaurant were you and Osamu. He stood patiently waiting behind his counter, desperately trying to look busy and as if he hasn’t been waiting for this moment for weeks.

He waited until you were close enough to his counter to say his greetings. You nodded at him in acknowledgment, taking a seat at the bar in front of him. He handed you a menu, and your eyes roved over the words as if they hadn’t done so dozens of times prior.

“Can I get ya anything to drink?” He asked, and you took off the baseball cap you had been wearing, setting it down on the counter beside you. Your finger hooks along the ear loop of your face mask and Osamu realizes he’s seeing your face for the first time. You place the piece of cloth in your pocket, and Osamu fights the heat across his cheeks.

“Just water,” you said, and Osamu was quick to set a fresh glass down in front of you.

“What’ll it be?” He asked after a few moments, adjusting the bill of his hat and settling his hand on his hip.

You hum a little, tapping your finger against your lips before you reply. “I’ll have the combo #2 with the gyoza.”

Osamu nodded, “What two flavors onigiri would you like?”

“For the first one, I’ll have your most popular flavor,” you say, before closing the menu and handing it back to him, “I’ll let you choose the second one.”

Osamu raised an eyebrow at your odd request, but nods anyway, putting the menu away and walking back to give his hands a quick wash.

He begins to gather his ingredients when he noticed you take out a notepad and a pen from your bag, placing it on the counter in front of your water.

“So,” he says, starting the process of making his number one seller (salted salmon), “What was it?”

“Excuse me?” You asked, pausing the drink that was half way to your lips. “What was what?”

“Well, ya stood outside for weeks, so I gotta know,” Osamu said, placing the delicate filling into the ball of rice he was kneading in his palm, “What made ya decide to finally come in?”

You tightened your lips, awkwardly setting the cup back down on the counter and placing a palm on your forehead.

“I was that obvious?”

“Were ya trying not to be?” He laughed, looking at you expectantly.

“It was the flavors on your board,” you finally replied, leaning back in your seat, “There was one that my grandfather used to make.”

Osamu smiled to himself, wrapping his first finished onigiri in the seaweed he had roasted earlier that day, placing it gently on a serving platter and moving over to make the next rice ball.

“That’s a coincidence,” Osamu said, “Your grandfather must have had great taste.”

“He used to own a restaurant,” you blurted out, and Osamu hummed.

“You’re kidding,” he said, “Whereabouts?”

You nibbled on your bottom lip, shifting your eyes side to side as if debating on whether you wanted to divulge him in your greatest secret. Eventually, you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the counter and placing your chin in your palm. “Actually, it was this one.”

Osamu’s fingers froze. “Ya don’t mean—?”

You nodded excitedly. Osamu lets out a scoff. “Now you’re just messin’ with me.”

“No, I swear!” A bright smile erupted across your cheeks as you jumped a little in your seat, “My grandparents used to own this restaurant.”

“I thought this was a boutique before I bought it?” Osamu questioned, putting his final touches on the second rice ball.

“It was,” you agreed, taking a sip from your water, “They owned this place until I was in high school, and sold it before they retired somewhere in the mountains. It’s been a few different stores since, but this is the first time it’s become a restaurant again. I was pretty surprised when I first saw it.”

Osamu felt an odd sensation of pride began to brew in his chest, shown in the way he sprinkled his sesame seeds a little extra forcefully.

“Well,” he said, placing the plate of two perfect onigiri right on the counter in front of you, “I hope I do this place some justice.”

You smiled, and Osamu found himself smiling with you. He pointed out the shake on the left, and the surprise flavor on the right. You nodded, intrigued, picking up the onigiri lying on the left side.

Osamu makes the gyoza while you take your first bite, nearly pumping his fist in victory when he sees you close your eyes in satisfaction, the tension he didn’t even know you carried slowly melting from your shoulders. He sees you quickly jot down comments on the notepad next to you, and Osamu tries to peek at what you wrote when he gives you the gyoza.

“Ya jottin’ down comments about my food?” He joked, and you jumped a little at his voice, “Got any suggestions, then?”

You smile sheepishly, “It’s just a little hobby of mine.”

He nods, grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter that he had just used. “Well, ya let me know if ya need anything else.”

“It’s just you working tonight?” You ask, grabbing your chopsticks and picking up a piece of gyoza.

“It’s just me every night,” he chuckled.

Your eyes widened as you chewed on your food, swallowing with a loud gulp.

“Doesn’t that get exhausting?” You ask, quickly jotting down your notes before diverting your attention back to him.

Osamu just shrugged. “I poured my everything into something I didn’t love half as much as cooking. This is just how I know how to do things.”

You tilted your head to the side, “What did you do before this?”

Osamu takes a deep breath as he lifts his hat up a little bit to ruffle his fingers through his hair. He flips the cap around and puts it on backwards, his vision no longer half covered by the bill of his hat and he can now look at you fully. He almost wants to laugh because no one has ever asked him that version of this question before. It was always, ‘What are you going to be doing after volleyball?’

He hated the fact that any answer other than ‘I’m going to play professionally’ was deemed a shame, or a waste. For Osamu, he didn’t want to waste another second not pursuing his passion.

So it was refreshing to tell you about volleyball as if it was just a footnote in his food journey; something that he had done prior to finally recognizing his actual potential.

You gawked at him in disbelief, “Volleyball? Were you even any good?”

Osamu actually recoiled in offense, “I’ll have ya know I was on a team that went to nationals three years in a row.”

You raised your eyebrows appreciatively, and Osamu straightened a little.

“So why food?” You question him again, and Osamu wonders if you’re always this inquisitive. He’s answered this question hundreds of times, swore up and down that he would shoot the next person that even dared to say ‘Why food?’ in front of him. Yet for some reason, he felt more than happy to divulge you.

“Because food is more than just something ya eat when you’re hungry. It’s coming back from a long trip, and it’s the warmth that spreads through your body when ya eat your mom’s cooking for the first time. That taste of victory that spreads across your tongue when ya go out for a meal with your pals after a game. The sensation of closing your eyes in satisfaction when ya take a bite out of a fresh onigiri after a long day,” you pause your scribbles at that moment, looking up to shoot him a playful glare. Osamu chuckled and continued, “It’s laughter shared around the table, and memories made over a plate that makes food more than just nourishment for our body, but also for our soul.”

Osamu feels his cheeks heat up as he finishes his speech, embarrassment beginning to sink in at the end of his long tangent. You looked at him with a soft look on your face as you finished the last bite of your first onigiri, and dusted your fingers from any stray grains of rice.

“Words to live by,” you commented, lifting your glass of water up in agreement before tilting it back for a drink.

He let out a breath of relief that lasted only a second when he saw you reach over to pick up the onigiri with toppings he picked out for you. He held his breath as you took a bite, not expecting to see your eyes widen so fast, snapping your head down to the innocent rice ball that now sported a bite mark.

“Shio kombu cheese?” you say hurriedly, holding the onigiri closer to your face.

Osamu steps forward, “Do ya like it?”

You take another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavors as they melded in your mouth, and your eyes nearly begin to water.

“I never thought someone other than my grandfather would be weird enough to come up with this,” you laughed, scarfing down the rice ball in less than two seconds. “Yet here it is.”

“It’s not weird,” he defended, “It’s refined.”

You laugh as you dive into a story from your childhood spent sitting in this exact restaurant. Osamu listens intently as you recount how many different failed recipes your grandfather had forced you to ty and review, helping him decide what to put on the menu, or which combinations would bring in the businessmen that always seemed to just walk passed the restaurant.

He tells you of the tantrum his brother threw when he told him he was quitting volleyball, but still, Atsumu was his first sale. You pester him about his secret ingredient, and give him an incredulous look when he says it’s the rice. (“My old volleyball captain is a rice farmer.” “… what an interesting volleyball team.”)

The furniture was different, and the lay out was unfamiliar, but the atmosphere around Osamu’s counter had brought you right back into your childhood, reminding you of all the reasons why you loved what you did in the first place.

Long after your plates had been emptied, and the hour hand on the clock had extended way passed closing time, you finally paid for your meal, stood up from your seat and prepared to take your leave.

“Thank you for the meal, and the conversation,” you lean forward to read his name tag, “Miya-san.”

“Osamu,” he corrects, and raises an eyebrow at you.

You tell him your name, and Osamu repeats it in his mind over and over again.

“Come back soon,” he calls out his usual greeting as you walked out the door, but it felt different when he said it to you.

“I will,” you smile, waving a hand before stepping into the night, leaving Osamu with a dizzy head and fluttering stomach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

In the following weeks since his late night encounter with you, Onigiri Miya had ceased to be a simple stop along someone’s route to work, or an afterthought on the way home.

One could imagine Osamu’s surprise when he arrived an hour and half before he was due to open, and already a line began to form down the sidewalk. He thought, perhaps it was a fluke, or maybe there was some sort of business convention in town nearby – something to explain the sudden spike in popularity.

Yet day after day, the crowds of people came to him by the dozens, climbing over each other to get a taste of his cooking. He couldn’t stop to wonder how long this was going to last, barely having the time to stop and give himself a break.

He finally realizes it’s not merely coincidence when the lines get longer, yet the faces he sees stay the same. Osamu remembers every single face that walks through the doors of Onigiri Miya, and it’s the ones that he sees over and over that truly give his restaurant its meaning.

The last customer of the dinner rush left thirty minutes ago when Osamu’s phone rang.

“‘llo,” he greets, sandwiching the phone between his ear and shoulder as he sweeps the floor, thinking about how he needed to start looking for someone to hire.

“Hey, asshole,” the voice of his twin comes through loud and clear, “When were ya gonna tell me ya invited that food blogger to your restaurant? And how the hell did ya get them to like your garbage cooking?”

Osamu stops in confusion, grabbing the phone and holding it up himself. “Did ya finally get hit in the head a little too hard at practice? What the hell are ya talking about?”

Atsumu curses at Osamu, telling him to hold on a second as he sends him the link.

Osamu pulls the phone away from his ear for a second, quickly pressing on the blue url that popped up from Atsumu’s chat bubble.

It took a second for it to load, but when it did, Osamu’s jaw dropped

ONIGIRI MIYA IS AN ONIGIRI MUST HAVE by L/N Y/N

Beneath the obnoxious title was a photo of his sign, shining brightly against the wooden panels of his building, looking very much like a beacon for those searching for the perfect plate.

“Your shop is all over the internet and I had to find out about it on my news feed?! What the hell kinda brother are ya...”

Atsumu’s voice faded into the background as Osamu read the flattering words you had written about his restaurant. You complimented the decoration he had been insecure about, and he chuckled at the way you had described the fluffiness of his rice. He was captivated by your use of prose, painting the perfect picture of exactly everything he wanted his food to convey.

It wasn’t until he got to the last paragraph when he felt his breath hitch in his throat.

Though the years have passed, and the season have changed, the sentimentality of this particular shop had never lost its meaning for me. For the first time in years, I felt the soul of my grandfather, the curator of my inspiration and passion, all around the atmosphere of what is now Onigiri Miya. I have every faith that the new owner has already done him justice.

“Excuse me, are you still open?”

Osamu tore his eyes away from the screen, the very author of the only review that will ever matter to him stood a mere few feet away from his counter.

“Call you later, Tsumu,” he said hurriedly.

“Hey, wh—“

Osamu slips his phone back into his pocket, turning his attention back to you. You had a cheeky smile on your face as you waited patiently.

“Welcome to Onigiri Miya,” he says dryly, and you laugh at his tone.

“Should you be on your phone while you’re on the clock?” You joke as you settle in the same seat you occupied the last time you paid him a visit.

“I don’t know,” Osamu crosses his arms, “Should ya be writing articles about people without telling em?”

You winced a little at his words, holding your hands up in surrender. “You saw it then?”

Osamu nodded.

You looked to the side, rubbing the side of your arm. “Did you like what I wrote?”

Osamu smiled, uncrossing his arms and walking to the back to wash his hands. You watch him curiously as he walked back to you, and pointed to a spot on the wall directly to your right.

“That’s where I’m gonna put it,” he said, “when I print it out and frame it.”

You laughed at the seriousness of his face, and he smirked in satisfaction.

You ordered the combo #2 with a side of gyoza, letting Osamu pick the two flavors. You mentioned how you tried to visit a couple of times, but the line was always so far out the door. He realizes that he has you to thank for that, and you blush deeply when he sincerely tells you so.

“So,” you say as you munch on the honey garlic pork onigiri he prepared, “Aren’t you glad you did this instead of boring, old volleyball?”

Osamu nearly chokes at the insult. “Volleyball is not boring.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “Let me take you to a game some time. We can eat something other than rice balls.”

You look up from the half eaten onigiri at the chef who made it so carefully, looking so bashful and nervous you couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I would love that.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

thank you for reading! reblogs are highly appreciated <33

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thatslikely · 4 years ago

Text

lined-paper confessions - s.s.

lined-paper confessions - stiles stilinski x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of fighting (scott and jackson predictably), strict teachers

word count: 1.5k

a/n: head full of stiles rn... requests for our favorite sarcastic boy are open right now so send some in!

Why is every teacher at Beacon Hills High the absolute worst?

Mr. Harris had just rapidly climbed your (highly opinionated) mental ranks to number one: your new least favorite educator. Giving you after-school detention, for doing nothing but watching with horror plastered on your face as Scott McCall, Stiles’ best friend, threw punches left and right at a topless, water-drenched Jackson, who reciprocated every strike as if he were nothing but a reflection. Seriously?

Previously, you had simply been sauntering down the locker-lined hall, Stiles on your right, passionately ranting about some unnamed problem that had him on edge for the past few weeks. You two turned down the empty, cinder-block-walled athletics corridor as he continued to agitatedly let off steam; the setting was decidedly unromantic given the unshakeable scent of overly pungent deodorant and mildew that was all too familiar.

You clung to every word emitted from his mouth with an almost comical frown like it was a mug of steamy hot chocolate on a bone-chilling winter day. To your disgruntlement, however, his ramblings were stopped mid-sentence when Scott and his wealthy rival Jackson tumbled out from the dingy boys’ locker room, hands clenched in fists and eyes flaming with fury.

Stiles bent down in a rush, poorly attempting to conclude the boisterous brawl with furrowed, concerned brows, but he looked not dissimilar to a toothpick compared to the two burly teammates.

“Detention for all of you!” Mr. Harris spat venomously as he dashed to the scene, his voice ringing above the grunts and slams that came from the fighting co-captains of the lacrosse team. “Detention now, Stilinski, McCall, Whittemore, Argent, and Y/L/N! Come on!”

You were dragged by the ear to the vacant library, a place which you often resided in whenever you studied with Stiles (often about mythical creatures, to your confusion). Posters that looked commonplace in an elementary school lined the walls, vibrantly encouraging students to pick up a book, or pen works for a writing contest of some sort.

Golden strips of fleeting sunlight peeked through the slatted blinds, and three gum wad-dotted tables were beckoning for the group of you to sit for the next two hours, or until Mr. Harris would finally decide that your soul had rotted away enough to release you.

You were sternly directed to the uncomfortably stiff chair opposite Allison’s, whose eyes shot daggers wherever they glanced. You flashed her an almost unregistrable smile, as if to say ‘hello.’ Slinging the loose straps of your backpack over your seat, your gaze flickering through the pin-drop silent room immediately locked on Stiles’ figure.

Boy, was he perfect.

The unbuttoned flannel over his shoulders speckled with mud from some vaguely mentioned adventure, his soft, tousled hair, that always had a lock out of place, his freckled face, that always bore some goofy expression, all of it. You couldn’t get enough; nothing would satiate your innermost desire for your lips to meld with his’, for your hands to intertwine through the hallways before class, after class, whenever, wherever.

One eyebrow-cocked, knowing look from Scott in your direction sent Stiles’ umber eyes to meet yours’, an almost confused look swimming through them. He opened his mouth curiously, surely to ask a question, most likely something along the lines of, ‘is there a stain on my shirt?’, but before he could, Mr. Harris seethed, “Take your seats, now.”

Stiles whipped around, not wanting to anger Mr. Harris any further, and he took his seat. The room was quickly conquered with suffocating silence, which the snotty chemistry teacher was bent on ensuring.

You unsheathed a doodled notebook from your backpack, eventually indenting its pages with inky black strokes of various weights and thicknesses. Your habit of penning loose sketches, vague outlines, began one day in math when the clock seemed to tick aggravatingly slow, and every word from the teacher became drawled further and further until they dissolved into the hum of the air conditioning and the chewing of gum: the rhythm of the classroom.

The unconscious lines eventually formed to a familiar portrait: Stiles. Some would be tempted to call him your muse, your kindling of an elegant flame of creativity. You’d always nod your head in complicity more than agreement, for the smart, albeit rebellious boy meant eons more than that to you.

You had just hit your stride, your wrist’s movements thoughtless and easy, when someone- rather something, hit the back of your head lightly with a small crunch. It was a small, scrunched piece of loose-leaf paper, ripped at the edge.

You turned your head to the direction that the projectile was tossed at, but both Scott and Stiles appeared to be very, very engrossed in a hushed conversation, neither of their postures attempting to suggest anything suspicious.

You smoothed out the paper of the angular fruitwood table in front of you, attempting to read the almost unintelligible handwriting.

Hey :)

(this is from stiles, by the way)

Your mood lightened a smidge, a grin bubbling onto your face. You tore a piece of paper out of your notebook along the perforation.

Before you threw it in an arch in Stiles’ direction, you penned a response to his note.

Hey ;) how’s detention treating you?

(This is from y/n, by the way)

Crunch.

not great, as expected. I think I saw harris pick his nose. do you have any bleach to douse my eyes in by any chance?

You chuckled a little, a small smirk glimmering on your face for the first time this excruciatingly long afternoon.

Sorry, I’m all out. used it all after I saw Jackson shirtless. how do you survive in the locker room every day?

A smile lifted on Stiles’ face, one so inflated with abundant excitement (and hormones), he might have burst at the seams.

“Man, you’re down bad,” Scott simpered, nudging his best friend’s forearm.

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed with an eye roll.

just keep your head down and you should be fine. one time, Greenberg looked at him a little too long and he nearly turned to stone, like jackson’s abs were medusa or something.

“Passing notes, are we?” Mr. Harris queried with a malicious scowl, his knuckles white from asphyxiating a helpless ballpoint pen. He slinked over to the tables you and Stiles rested uncomfortably in, raising his brow in heavy suspicion.

Stiles’ deep, dark chocolate-colored eyes widened in worry. “No, sir.”

“I’m keeping my eye on you, Stilinski. You too, Y/L/N.”

As soon as Harris was out of sight, perched back at the desk and typing furiously, another wad of paper tapped your occiput.

hey, y/n, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you for a while.

The note, while its contents wouldn’t usually spark too much concern, was subtly unlike the few ones you had previously received. The lines of each letter were neater, more methodical. The small blots of ink resting at the conclusion of every stroke were larger, deeper, as if the nib of his pen had rested in the liquidly black pool for a second too long.

Your face scrunched with confusion, and upon noticing your shift in emotion, Allison nimbly tapped your wrist and mouthed, ‘Is everything okay?’

You nodded with wrinkled brows while shakily scratching a reply.

what is it?

Your knee bounced up and down reflexively, clicking from your rapidly retracting pen echoed through the idle shelves and arrays of desktops. It felt like years, centuries even, before a reply finally tumbled at your feet.

do you like me?

(circle one)

yes? or yes?

Your jaw nearly fell to the carpeted floor in shock as if gravity had been multiplied; your speedily thrumming heart was doing flip after flip in the cavity of your chest. Without a second thought, you quickly circled both of the ‘yes’es as if there were no friction under the ink-dispersing tip of your pen. Before cupping the piece of paper, you scribbled out an additional little note.

wanna go out this saturday?

Stiles’ anxious gaze bore into your hunched-over figure as you giddily wrote your reply. What if you rejected him (even though the page lacked a ‘no’ option, meaning that you would have to add one, which was even worse)? Was it possible for him to ask to go to the bathroom and just never return? Are there any secret werewolf abilities that Scott could use to make him disintegrate on the spot?

But his overthinking was soon alleviated when he received your response, this time neatly folded into a paper heart instead of a crunchy ball. Each crease was crisp and thoughtful; he didn’t have to unfold your expert origami to know which option you circled (or lack thereof).

He grinned goofily like an idiot as his chocolate eyes glazed your response a million times over, taking in every letter, every stroke, the dot in your ‘i’ or the question mark ending your simple but heart-rate-escalating proposal.

Crunch.

stiles stilinski/teen wolf taglist:

it’s a date then. i’ll pick you up at 6? passenger seat’s already reserved for you ;)

@loulouloueh @when-you-wish-upon-a-starrynight @ronbrokemyheart @dylobilysmomg

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

We need more Bella and Megan content!!! Insta posts were so cuutee!!! Maybe a blurb abt the relationship between Megan and the family?? It could be interesting… I imagine then being a very open and close knit family u know, where they can talk freely about anything,and yes including sex, and I think it could be interesting to see how maybe bella needs some advice/want to talk to someone about being intimate w her gf and doesn’t know how to bring that up to her family bc she is embarrassed and doesn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable?? I’ve never read a doc like this, or where one of the kid is not straight (only w/ Harry or the reader being bi) and yeah it should be written abt more.

megan and belle are sooo cute yes! ok let’s see where this goes!! hope you have fun reading;

belle - 18

“Will you stop faffing, you look beautiful honey.”

You slapped Belle’s hands from playing with her outfit again. Tonight you and Harry were properly meeting Megan for the first time, by taking them out for a meal at this new Thai restaurant down the road. Belle had been worrying all evening as she was getting ready, coming downstairs multiple times to show off outfits to you so you could give them your honest opinion. It didn’t help her when you said she looked beautiful in all of them. Belle wasn’t into playing “girly” dress-up, but she thought that putting effort in for her girlfriend, tonight, might be a good idea. So she’d finally decided on some denim jeans, a basic top and then one of Harry’s old blazers. She looked amazing.

“Just so nervous.”

“Why? You like them, right?” You asked, adding on a bit of lipstick, whilst you were sat at the table of this fancy restaurant.

“Yeah. Like really like them.” Belle emphasised, shrugging off the blazer as she was becoming too hot with nerves.

“Well then we’ll really like them too. We trust you.” Harry butted in, sitting as close to you as he could whilst sat in these chairs. Before you’d managed to sit down at the table he’d moved your chair along to be closer to his, meaning he could slink his arm around the back of your chair and have his hand in your lap if he wanted to. Even after all these years he still knew how to make you feel especially loved.

Belle’s phone pinged and it made her freak. “Oh god, it’s Meg. They’re here.”

“Okay, B. Calm down and go and get them from outside, we’ll just order some wine or something.” You ordered her softly, trying to put your daughter more at ease. She was more nervous than you imagine Megan would be.

Your daughter stood up from the table, both you and Harry smiling at her. “Okay.” She pushed her chair in behind her and about to walk off, but she quickly turned back to you both, “Remember; Megan Dover, they/them pronouns and don’t mention anything about astrology otherwise we will be dead before we leave this table,okay?”

You both chuckled at her, loving how she was so aware of her girlfriend and the things that were important to them. “Okay love. Now stop fussing and go.” Harry shooed his hand and his daughter away from the table. She turned back around to flash you two thumbs up and you both smiled at her, watching your all-grown-up baby walk away.

“We’ve done well Styles.” You turned to face him, to find he was already admiring you, thinking about the wonder life you’d both created and the wonderful children that had been a product of it.

“Was just thinking the same thing, m’heart.” He smiled and leaned in to kiss you, pressing his lips onto your lipstick-stained ones. He didn’t care if his lips became painted a different colour because of it, he would never miss the opportunity to give his beautiful wife a deserving kiss. He loved you too damn much.

You cupped his chin and he tightened his arm around you, that had been slunk around the back of your chair. He squeezed your thigh three times in signal for saying ‘I love you’ without any words needing to be spoke. You tapped his chin three times in return. Everyone always hated how loved up you two were, but really you just think they’re jealous of how perfect your relationship is. Sure you have your ups and downs, but isn’t that what makes it so perfect? You pulled away and looked into his dreamy eyes, kissing him once more for good luck, before returning your attention to your glass of water for a drink.

“Thirsty?” He asked you, keeping you close.

“Mhm. All that talking I was doing this afternoon on the phone to that bloody insurance company.”

“You did give them a piece of y’mind though, love. You were a lot more civil than I would’ve been.” Harry chuckled, waving his hand to catch one of the waiters attention.

“Seriously though? Nearly charged us an extra £1,000 for a service charge. Bloody fuckers.” You sighed and put your water back on the table after taking a lengthy sip.

“£1,000 isn’t really that mu—” He didn’t finish his sentence though because he caught sight of your stern face and knew exactly what you were thinking. You hated when he talked about money as if it wasn’t a problem, because you didn’t want your kids to grow up with that ideology. “You know what? They’re bastards and i’m proud of you for handling them so well.” He kissed you again and then the waited came over, stopping you from having a go at him for being cheeky. You pinched his leg in respond and he caught your hand, holding it tightly in his as if a warning for you to stop.

“Evening Sir. How can I help?” He asked politely, his serving towel draped over his forearm.

“A bottle of y’cheapest red wine please.”

“Certainly Sir.” And the waited was gone.

“Cheapest?” You asked confused, making Harry turn back towards you.

“Well it’d be a bit hypocritical of us to ask for our favourite bottle of wine, which is £1,000 darling, now wouldn’t it?” He smirked at you, knowing he’d played you just perfectly.

“Such a git.” You scoffed in pretend offence and then kissed him again too make sure that he knew you weren’t mad.

You both sat back and looked in the direction which now you could see Belle walking back over to you from where she’s gone to fetch Megan. Belle was guiding them book, Megan following closely behind her, and they were holding hands. They looked completely adorable and you wanted to just rush your camera out and snap loads of photos of them to remember this moment. Yes, you were that mum who takes a photo of everything and anything when it came to your children. You even had an album on your phone dedicated to your children’s haircuts… You leg started to shake nervously in anticipation.

“Calm down you!” Harry laughed quietly, just incase the two girls could hear you. Harry stood up out of his chair first and held out his hand for you to follow. He made sure your chair didn’t tip back as you stood and kept ahold of your hand as they approached you both.

You caught Belle’s eye and you could how happy she was from the twinkle within.

“Mum, Dad, this is Megan,” Belle introduces you all, Megan still stood slightly behind her, “Meg, this is my mum, Y/N and my dad, Harry.”

Harry was the first one to cross his hand over the table. “Lovely to meet you Megan.”

“And you Mr Styles, but please just call me Meg.” They shook hands together and Harry smiled at them warmly, wanting to make her feel as part of the family as possible. He was good at that.

“Well then then you, please, call me Harry. Makes me feel old otherwise.” His joke made the table laugh and ease any nervousness that had been there before.

“That’s because you are old, dad.” Belle added cheekily.

“Oi watch it you. Don’t think I won’t embarrass you in front of your girlfriend.” He raised his eyebrows teasingly and pointed sternly at his daughter, who did pack quite the punch with her snarky responses sometimes.

“I’m counting on it Harry.” Megan laughed, which made everyone chuckle again. Megan was such an easy girl to get along with and it was clear that they made Belle a very happy person, for that you indebted to them.

“And nice to see you Meg.” You shook your hands with Megan as Harry and Belle continued to banter over the table. You were sat opposite Megan, Harry next to you and Belle diagonally opposite you. You and Megan both sat down before Harry and Belle did.

“Likewise Mrs Styles,” you gave them a look which had them chuckling as they corrected themselves, “Y/N, sorry! Are they usually like this?” They asked you, watching Belle and Harry talk about some absolute rubbish.

“Oh don’t even start! They wind each other up all the time. Drive me up the bloody wall they do!” You laughed and you felt calmer when Megan laughed too. “Wine?” You offered them, having had the bottle delivered whilst you were all being introduced to each other.

“Yes please.” They smiled and held out the glass to help you pour. You poured them a generous glass and then followed by pouring yourself one too.

You weren’t blinded by the beauty of Megan. They had strong-loving brown eyes and blonde hair that seemed to be toned down with brunette roots. They had a simple face with perfectly plucked eyebrows and a fiercely sharp jawline. They were just very naturally pretty, that you could tell. They were wearing similar to Belle actually, which made you think they’d coordinated their outfits - your inner mum was freaking out over the soft thought. You and Harry often liked to coordinate outfits too, like tonight - both of you were wearing navy blue.

“You want wine B?” Meg asked Belle, breaking her away from the pointless conversation with her dad.

“What? Oh, yes, yes please.” Belle responded, shifting closer towards Meg and holding their hand again. They kept their public displays of affection to themselves, a bit like you and Harry had originally been. You filled up your daughters glass, but passed on filling up Harrys glass because he was driving home tonight.

“So what do you plan on studying at university Meg?” You started the conversation with the easiest question you could.

“Marine Biology.” They answered and you could tell they were clearly excited by the tone of happiness in their voice. You didn’t miss the squeeze of pride that Belle gave them either.

“That sounds good! Where abouts are you going to study?”

“Newcastle, actually.” Meg went quiet and you understood why, because Belle was going to the exact same university to study Engineering.

“Oh really?” Harry asked, pretending to be surprised but it definitely came through sarcastically - this earned him a kick under the table from his daughter.

“Oh shut up!” Belle rolled her eyes and Meg smiled at her playfulness with her family, it made them really happy that their girlfriend had such a loving and special family.

You were so not ready to send off your daughter to university, because she was your final baby to leave the safe nest of the Styles home and it was just going to be you and Harry left. You were excited for the time you’d have with him, but you were sad to see you final child leave you. You were even more excited for Belle to be going out and adventuring the world as she wanted to. She was going to do great things and you couldn’t be prouder of her. It eased you to know that at least Meg would be their with her - almost like a home away from home.

“You have any brothers or sisters Meg?” You asked.

“I have a younger sister, but she’s evil.” Meg laughed, before taking a sip of their wine.

“Evil how? ‘Cause my children are the exact same.” Harry spoke sincerely as if one of his children weren’t sat directly in front of him. It earned him another kick to his legs from his daughter. “See? Evil.” Everyone laughed, Belle just sulked.

“Well Ivy just terrorises everyone and anyone. She’s just evil.”

“Belle ain’t much better i’m afraid.”

“Dad! Meg is going to leave me if you keep painting me out to be an arsehole.” Belle rolled her eyes, but was brought out of her strop by Megan who brought her hand up to press their lips on her skin.

“Can’t chase me away that easily Belle.”

And it was that moment that you knew that Belle had found a forever partner in Megan, just as you had found in Harry.

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storiesforallfandoms · 4 years ago

Text

nothing left ~ 10k;z nation

word count: 2229

request?: no

description: he accompanies her back to her childhood home to find nothing left besides the memories of times before the zombies, and they decide to leave some new memories there

pairing: 10k x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist

(Y/N) kept a straight face as they drove past the sig with her hometown’s name displayed in bold, black letters against the stark white background. It was the first time she had been there since she and her parents had escaped during the initial Z outbreak. Since then, she had lost everything, but managed to find a new family within the small group that took her in.

They came to a stop at an empty parking lot of an abandoned supermarket. Everyone got out, weapons in tow.

“This place is a ghost town,” Doc commented.

“Almost everyone vacated when the infection started,” (Y/N) explained. “I don’t even think there would be any Zs here. It’s probably only been ransacked lately.”

“It’s the only town for miles, it’s our best bet for resources,” Warren said. “We search the place where we can and see what we can find.” She turned to (Y/N) to add, “Do you want to go home? Just to see the place if nothing else?”

(Y/N) was dying to get home, but she didn’t want anyone on the team to see her as weak or fragile. Although she knew they wouldn’t think any different of her if she did show some weakness, in this day and age, your biggest threat was to be perceived as weak to anyone.

Before she could respond, 10k spoke up. “I think you should. It’ll give you a break from everything, and you can be closer to your parents for even just a moment.”

(Y/N) had a hard time saying no to 10k, especially when parents were involved. She knew he wanted nothing more than to be close to his own father again, but, like (Y/N), 10k hadn’t been home in nearly a year. He didn’t even know if his own home was still standing. If she turned down this opportunity that she knew 10k wanted so bad in front of him, she’d never forgive herself.

“It would be nice,” she admitted.

“You go then honey,” Warren said, her voice soft and kind. “10k, you go with her for protection. Meet us back here before sundown. We’ll wait a little while, but not too long.”

The two youngest members left in the opposite direction of the group. (Y/N) led 10k down the still familiar roads. They weren’t too far from the house and, before she knew it, (Y/N) was stood in front of her childhood home. Her eyes widened at the sight of it.

All the windows were smashed and the door was practically ripped off of the hinges. They entered with weapons raised in case of a Z attack. (Y/N)’s heart broke to see the place ransacked and destroyed. Every picture her parents had hung were smashed to pieces. Only one remained partially in tact, one of (Y/N) and her parents when she was barley a year old. They were on their first vacation as a family to visit someone in another state. The picture was of the three of them on the beach together. Baby (Y/N) was in her mother’s arms, taken by the sand in her tiny hands while her parents were smiling brightly at the camera.

10k looked over her shoulder as her eyes began to water. “You look a lot like your mom.”

“I got that a lot,” she said. “We were basically twins. Dad said I got lucky with mom’s genes.”

She held the picture close to her chest as she moved up the stairs to where the bedrooms and main bathroom was. Whoever had broken in must’ve found what they wanted on the first floor because the bedrooms were relatively untouched. Every poster and picture (Y/N) had on her walls were still there. Her old laptop was even still there, although she doubted that it worked anymore.

“It’s weird,” she said. “It feels like I’ve been gone for years, but this room looks exactly the way I left it, like not a day has past.”

“Anything here you want to take with you?” 10k asked.

(Y/N) shook her head. “I took most of the important stuff when we left first. There’s nothing but memories here now.”

She was so lost in her own thoughts - memories of when things were good - that she didn’t hear 10k leave the room to walk into the bathroom until he spoke again. “The water still runs.”

She walked into the bathroom to find clean water running from the tap. She put a hand under the water, feeling it go from freezing cold to comfortably warm in seconds.

“The power and stuff must still be running,” she said. “Good news for us. I haven’t showered in ages.”

“You think it’s safe?” 10k asked, but (Y/N) was already placing her weapons on the bathroom counter and shedding herself of her top layers.

“I’m willing to take one for the team if it means I’ll be clean when I die,” she joked. “You can watch the door and make sure no Zs or no more looters come in. I’ll leave my gun close enough that I can use it if need be.”

10k nodded. Before he could get the chance to turn back on, (Y/N) grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. For a split second, 10k saw the black bra she was wearing. It was old and worn, probably one of the only ones she had left. Due to this, it was basically falling apart, so when he got a brief glance of the bra, he also got a glance of one of her breasts.

10k’s eyes widened as he quickly turned his back so that (Y/N) didn’t know. He stood in the doorway, listening over the sound of the shower running for any indication of someone, or something, breaking into the house.

The warm water running over (Y/N) caused her to let out a moan of relief. It had been so long since she had properly bathed. The warm water of the familiar shower felt like heaven to her.

Outside the shower, 10k was shuffling awkwardly. He and (Y/N) had been close since they had first met, but they had only ever viewed each other as friends and Z fighting colleagues. He didn’t understand why he was starting to have this feeling about her. Maybe it was just boy hormones and the fact that she was a naked girl just a few feet away from him. But it felt like more than that. Maybe it had always been more than that but he was just afraid to admit it.

Before he could stop himself, 10k silently placed his gun next to hers on the toilet cover. He began to shed himself of his own clothes, working quickly and quietly as to not disturb her. (Y/N) had her head back with the water running over her hair and body when 10k pulled the curtain back and stepped in. She opened her eyes to look at him, shocked by his sudden appearance. She looked him up and down for a moment, her face giving away nothing.

“Gotta save water,” 10k said, trying to lighten the mood.

A smile broke out across (Y/N)’s face as a small giggle came from her lips. “Come here, 10k.”

She put a hand on the back of his neck at the same time that his hands found her waist. Their lips collided and it felt like the most right thing in the terrible, fucked up world around them. 10k’s lips moved against (Y/N)’s perfectly, as if they were supposed to be there, to be kissing her so deeply. His hands wandered over her dripping body, touching every inch of her soft skin with his calloused hands.

(Y/N) let out a sudden squeal as 10k lifted her effortlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist. She was shocked at his strength. Sure, he wasn’t as scrawny and wimpy as he may have looked, but he certainly wasn’t the strongest person in the world. He’s just full of surprises, (Y/N) noted as his lips connected with hers again.

His hard boner was against her aching core, teasing her ever so slightly with every gently brush against her. She whimpered against his lips when she felt him brush against her opening, trying to ground her hips against his to feel her inside of him. Knowing that she wanted this as much as he did made him even more turned on. He was almost afraid that he wouldn’t be able to make this moment last long enough.

He helped to guide her down onto his hard length, causing (Y/N) to gasp as he filled her entirely.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked her, suddenly realizing that he had no idea what (Y/N)’s sexual past was like.

“No,” she responded, her voice breathless and airy. “I just haven’t had sex in a very long time. I forgot how good it felt.”

10k smiled at her and pressed his lips against hers again. He pressed her back against the nearest wall and slowly began to thrust himself into her. (Y/N)’s back arched against the wall, trying to get as close to 10k as she possibly could.

He was slow and gentle, which drove (Y/N) even more wild. She held on around his neck as if her life depended on it, moaning and gasping against his lips with every thrust he pushed into her. She could barley even think straight, her mind focusing only on the pleasure that 10k was providing her.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his voice soft.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile. Sweet 10k, always thinking of the comfort of others, even when he was in the middle of the most intense shower sex (Y/N) had ever had.

“It’s more than alright,” she responded. “God, it feels so fucking good.”

10k had heard (Y/N) swearing many times, but hearing the expletive word slip from her breathless voice in that moment drove him wild. He rested his head against her shoulder, groaning as he pushed his hips against hers again, filling her completely.

“You feel so good,” he told her. “You’re so soft and warm, fuck.”

“Who would’ve thought that sweet 10k had a dirty side?” (Y/N) giggled.

“You must not know me well enough, then.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

Her thought was cut short as 10k pulled almost completely out of her then filled her again. Her mind was clouded with lust as she tried to rock her hips against his, begging for the release she wanted.

Noticing her desperation, 10k wrapped one arm around her lower back and slipped his free hand between them. (Y/N) gasped as his fingers connected with her swollen nerves and began to rub circles in them. She could feel a familiar pressure building inside of her. She clung to 10k’s shoulders, curses falling from her mouth in between moans of pleasure. Her legs began to shake as she felt herself hitting her climax. She threw her head back and called 10k’s name - his real name - in pleasure.

Feeling her walls contracting around him caused 10k to feel his own climax approaching. He held on to her hips as his thrusts became a little faster. Before he knew it, his eyes were nearly rolling back into his head as he felt himself filling her with his warm cum. The feeling of the warmth inside of her was enough to almost turn (Y/N) on again.

They stayed tangled together for a moment, completely forgetting about the running water cascading down onto them. It wasn’t until the warm water started to turn cold that they realized it was probably time for the two of them to get out.

Luckily for them, whoever looted the house also didn’t think to take any of the towels in the upstairs linen closet, so they had a way to dry themselves off. Before she started pulling her clothes on, 10k wrapped his arms around (Y/N) again and kissed her exposed shoulders and neck before placing one last sweet kiss against her lips.

“We should tell the others about the running water,” he said as he pulled his clothes back on. “If this place is relatively Z-less, we could probably get away with staying here for a while.”

“We’ve stayed in worst looking places,” (Y/N) agreed. “I’m sure everyone else is dying to clean themselves, too. There’s enough room for everyone to sleep with all the bedrooms and the couch downstairs.”

The reminder of the wreckage when they first entered caused a melancholy mood to wash over (Y/N) again. Noticing this, 10k brought her into his arms and held her tightly.

“I’m sorry about your house,” he said. “I’m sorry someone did this to you, that they took all the memories of this place.”

(Y/N) shook her head. “They didn’t take the memories. No one could ever take that from this place. Besides, I’d like to make some new memories here...with you.”

10k smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I think we’ve already started with that.”

(Y/N) giggled and pulled away from him. “Let’s go find everyone to tell them before they leave us abandoned.”

#10k #10k imagine #10k x reader #10k smut #nat zang #nat zang imagine #nat zang x reader #nat zang smut #z nation #z nation imagine #imagine #one shot #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

Text

ブン-ブン

(Here’s my Yandere Bunny Polnareff x Female Reader story :))

Sorry if this is too OOC or too fast paced! I tried my best, but I’m unhappy with the result.

TW: !Noncon!, Pol is a hybrid!, breeding kink!, cumflation!, !!!HOMIE PISSES ON YOU (this is not really a kink, just animal instinct)!!!!, alludes to cat violence (Not you)!!, marking (rubs his scent glands on you)!, overstim!, etc..)

Please proceed with caution!!)

Hearing a loud yowl from your backyard, you hurry towards your back doors. It seems your tabby cat, Garfield, has gotten himself into some trouble.

Clicking your tongue to gain his attention, you unlock the French doors, flinging them open.

You only allowed the fatass outside for a few minutes! How is he already into something he shouldn’t be in?

Stepping outside, your eyes are immediately drawn to a mass of white and orange. Your cat is currently wrestling with the biggest rabbit you’ve ever seen.

It’s the same size as your fatass cat, hell, maybe it’s bigger! Its head alone is larger than your fist!

Its ears are currently being gnawed on by your feline son, specks of red dripping from the bun’s white coat. Garfield is nailed in the side with a powerful kick, causing him to yowl once more. Seeing this, you snap out of your shock, immediately hauling it towards the fighting duo.

“Garfield, stop it! Leave that bunny alone!” They pretend they can’t hear you, and continue to brawl. Once by the two, you yoink them up from the lush grass, separating them by holding them in opposite hands. You’re grabbing them by the scruff of their necks, frowning at them, “Alright, break it up!”

Your cat takes a couple swipes at the rabbit, the rabbit tries kicking at your cat, both of them ultimately missing one another.

“Would you two stop it?” You huff, pouting cutely. The bunny is a lot heavier than you originally thought, forcing you to readjust your hold on it, “Do you see how dumb you look? You’re both fighting the air!”

Garfield hisses in response, causing you to roll your eyes. At least the rabbit has better manners than him.

“Fine, whatever. We’re going inside now, so I can patch you hooligans up. You both better both behave.”

Turning on your heel, you stomp inside, wounded animals cradled to your (bountiful/small) chest. Both of them calm once in the crook of your arm, allowing you to have a moment of peace.

Great. Now you have to patch up your asshole cat and his rabbit friend.

Bringing them into your master bathroom, you set them on opposite sides of your two sink vanity. Opening the vanity’s middle drawer, you quickly grab your first aid kit, and lay it between the two annoyed animals.

“Alright you two, if you can’t get along, don’t go near one another. Stay on opposite sides of the sink, okay?” You keep talking to them as if they know what you’re saying, and unbeknownst to you, a certain rabbit finds it endearing.

Popping open the box, you withdraw white wrappings, q-tips, and hydrogen peroxide. Twisting the cap open on the peroxide, you set it on the countertop, before pouring a capful of peroxide into it. Grabbing your cat’s shampoo from underneath the sink, you turn on your sink’s tap, filling it with warm water. Once done, you slowly approach the nervous bun.

“I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to bandage your wounds,” Its nose twitches, seemingly sniffing out if you’re a threat. After a tense moment of silence, it makes itself look as small as possible, showing submission.

Giggling quietly, you pick it up, and place him in the water. Its head and ears are above the water, keeping them from becoming wet. Dipping your hands into the water, you smooth down its fur, slightly wetting the top of its head. Once done with that, you pour soap into your palm, rubbing your hands together.

Now that your hands are sudsy, you start to bathe the calm bun. Its blood quickly washes off, cleaning its wounds.

Once clean, you pick it up, placing it on a hand towel you got from beneath the sink. You dry the bunny off, making sure his ears are completely dry, before dipping a q-top into the peroxide, and cleaning out his wounds completely.

After seeing his wounds, you realise he doesn’t need any wrappings, thus leaving you to set him on an old t-shirt that’s sitting on your tub’s ledge.

“There you go, Bun Bun. Sit there until I finish with Garfield,” You unplug the sink on the bun’s side, and move towards your seething cat. Drawing him his own bath, you clean out his wounds, and give him many kisses, “Good boy, Gar. I’m proud of you for not scratching me.”

He meows in response, allowing you to dry him and fix his wounds.

Now that the two animals are clean and no longer have raw, open wounds, you pick them up, and move towards your living room.

Setting Garfield on the left side of the couch, you move towards your back door.

“Okie dokie, now that you’re all clean, you can go home now! I’m sorry that Garfield was mean to you.”

Opening your back door, you gently place the bunny on the ground, before going inside, and locking the door behind you.

Little did you know that that bunny wasn’t truly a bunny at all, but a man who’s severely touch starved.

And, is a man who’s completely, totally in love with you.

When Polnareff returned to his burrow, he was practically shaking with excitement. He’d found his mate!

Once laying down, he could hear his leg thumping with happiness. He can’t wait until you go into heat!

Then, the two of you can have cute kits! He just knows that they’ll be beautiful, just like their mother…

Oh yes, once you go into heat, he’ll be there to keep you satiated.

He just needs to make sure that fat cat stays out of his way.

Garfield lays on your tummy, practically smothering you with his weight. Looking down at him from your lying position, you roll your eyes, “You’re so heavy! Move off of me!”

He ignores your whining, nuzzling against the area above your uterus. Huffing in annoyance, you pick up the snoozing cat, and walk towards the kitchen. The little shit wouldn’t let you move for hours, and you’ve become rather hungry.

Once in the kitchen, you set him on the counter. He stretches dramatically, before rubbing against you like a madman. His hackles are raised, yellow eyes transfixed on something outside.

Looking out at your backyard, you see a certain giant rabbit. Sighing, you choose to ignore your pet’s dick measuring contest with the bunny outside.

Pulling out (microwavable food), you quickly open its packaging, and chuck it into the microwave. Pressing in the time, you rest against the counter your cat is standing on, petting down his raised hair.

“Garfield, you’re honestly acting ridiculous. The rabbit isn’t scary-” The orange fiend jumps into your arms, furiously rubbing himself onto you. He’s cuddling you like a good boy, stopping you from scolding him, “Awe, you’re so cute when you’re clingy and not biting my shirt sleeves.”

He lets out a small hiss, but stays in your arms willingly.

His yellow eyes are trained on the bunny, practically taunting the other male.

Polnareff is seething. How dare that undeserving feline take his rightful place? How dare that fucking cat scent you during your heat?

It takes everything in him to not crash through the window and beat the cat into the ground. But, he knows his nightly bathroom break outside will be soon, and that’s when he can strike.

The blue eyed man watches you eat, happy that you’re preparing for your upcoming heat. Ignoring your pet, Jean feels happiness overtake him. You must know that he’s watching, if you’re eating such fatty foods.

Little does he know, that’s just the normal way of human life.

You continue to chow down on your yummy food, a smile on your pretty face, none the wiser to your hybrid stalker.

Once finished, you let Garfield out into the backyard, “Don’t cause trouble with that rabbit, Garfield.” He didn’t listen to you, and ran in the direction of that damn white rabbit.

You pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance, but do nothing. If he wants to fight with it, that’s on him at this point.

Sitting on your couch, you turn on your TV, flipping channels until you land on a forensic science TV show. Leaning back, you recline yourself into a comfortable position.

You sit in that position for about an hour, before you realise your cat never came inside. Shooting to your feet, you rush outside, turning on your phone’s flashlight.

“Garfield? Garfield?” You call out, searching through the bushes, and clicking your tongue to grab his attention.

He doesn’t come, causing you to panic. Garfield and you grew up together, and you can’t remember the last time you went without him.

“Gar-Gar? Please, please come home!” Tears well up in your eyes, as a sob escapes your throat.

As the first tear falls, you feel someone grab you from behind, “Why are you crying, Mademoiselle?”

You jump a mile off of the ground, and stumble, almost falling face first into the grass. Whipping around, you come face to chest with a very naked, very large man.

“Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my backyard?” Your scent is thick with fear, and your voice trembles. A saddened feeling pools in Jean’s heart; he didn’t wish to scare you or hurt you in any way!

“Do not fear me, My Love. I am Jean Pierre Polnareff, your future mate!” Blanching at his statement, you finally notice the very apparent white bunny ears on the top of his head.

“What. The. Fuck.”

With that, you turn, and haul ass into your house. His heavy footsteps are heard behind you, same with a few pleading words for you to come back.

Once inside, you slam your French doors closed, and use your body weight to hold them shut, as you try to lock them. His built frame slams into the doors behind you, using all of his strength to bust inside.

“There’s no need to be afraid! Just open the doors, My Heart! I’ll treat you well!” Your nimble fingers try to turn the lock, but the constant shaking of the opening makes it very hard to do so.

“Leave me alone! Did you do something to my cat? Because the moment you showed up, he disappeared!” Immediately, the doors stop shaking, allowing you to lock them.

A long beat of silence follows, before he speaks again, “Oh, I didn’t realise you found him.”

You gasp, feeling as though your heart was ripped from your chest. He really did something to Garfield!

“Get the fuck off of my property! I'll-I'll Call the police!” Tears Pool in your eyes, before dripping down your face. Whoever this bunny man is, he must be dangerous if he goes around killing things for no reason.

“My heart, how you wound me,” You peek through the curtains, only to see him looking back at you with an intimidating gaze. His ice blue eyes seem to be staring into your soul, “This… Garfield of yours was challenging me. He may have had you first, yes, but the rules of the animal kingdom say that if we find our mates, the new found mate must be left alone. But, that feline of yours blatantly disrespected our relationship, My Heart, so I had to teach him a lesson.”

You gape at him in horror, backing away from the doors, “Stay away from me! I’m not your mate, I’m not your anything! How do you even know me?”

You hear him laugh through the door, as he lands a swift kick towards the door handle, “You bathed me just the other week, don’t tell me that you’ve forgotten?”

Running towards the kitchen, you grab a small knife that is easy to use. Did you seriously help a hybrid?

You hear him kick a few more times, before the doors come crashing down. His heavy footsteps echo across your hardwood floors, as he makes his way to you. Looking around for an exit, you quickly move towards the kitchen window.

Unlocking it with ease, you slide it open, making quick work of the screen keeping the bugs out. You hoist yourself onto the counter, shimmying towards the opening, only to be yanked back by two strong hands. In your (dominant Hand) is the knife you grabbed, allowing you to slash at the large man.

“Get away from me! Don’t fucking touch me!” He releases you for a moment, dodging your erratic movements. A saddened look crossed his handsome face, as he man handled the knife out of your sweaty hands. Once disarmed, he forces you against his chest, chucking the knife into the sink. His now free hands grip your wrists, stopping you from fighting against him.

“Shh, calm yourself. There’s no need to be so erratic-“

“Fuck you! You killed my cat and broke into my house, there’s plenty of reasons for me to be erratic!” You try kicking at his strong legs, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I understand that your heat is making you irrational-“

“What the fuck are you talking about?! I’m not an animal, I don’t fucking have heats!” Thrashing with your entire body weight, you try to bring him to the ground, but he’s too sturdy for you to do so.

Instead of answering, he brings his head into the crook of your neck, sniffing the area loudly. You don’t see it, but a look of disgust is apparent.

“We need to fix this awful smell. Hold still and I’ll scent you-“ You head butt the large male, knocking him back and off of you.

He stumbles back, and you make a run for the open window. You get halfway out of it once more, before you’re dragged back inside by your waist.

You’re thrown to the floor in an instant, shoulder hitting the wood harshly. A yelp leaves your lips, as more tears drip down your face.

“Don’t be difficult, Love. I don’t want to hurt you. Just let me scent you, and I can help you through your heat. You just have to trust me,”

You shake your head, “No, just leave me alone!”

He frowns, but nods, “It’s ok if you’re difficult, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Without warning, Jean grabs his half hard cock, aiming it towards your crumpled form.

“What the fu-“ A stream of clear piss hits you straight in the mouth, causing you to gag and splutter in disgust. You wipe at your tongue, a wretched sob wracking your form.

The stream hits your neck next, before traveling down your entire body. You’re absolutely covered in piss, all whilst crying your eyes out. You try to scramble away, but end up skipping in the acrid liquid.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the-why the fuck would you do that?” He fries. to approach you, a small smile quirking at his lips, but you kick at him, trying to keep him away from you, “Get the fuck away from me! Don’t fucking touch me! You just fucking pissed on me like a-like wild fucking animal!”

He grabs you in his arms as you slap, punch, and scratch, quickly bringing you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto your mattress, effectively sullying your new sheets. You try to scramble off of your bed, but his large frame suddenly dwarfs yours, trapping you to it.

“I didn’t want to do it, My Heart, but you left me no choice. You wouldn’t let me scent you, and I couldn’t let you wear another male’s scent-“

“You don’t own me! We don’t even know each other!” You smack at his well toned chest, as you cry. He kisses you on your piss covered forehead, nuzzling into your slightly damp hair.

“But we will. We’re mates, after all,” With those words, he starts to strip you. “All you need to know is that I know what’s best for you. Right now, you need a big, strong mate to breed your in heat womb, and I’m the right one for the job! So, just lay back and let me help you!”

Your top half is exposed to him, breasts bouncing as he tears your clothes to shreds. Your hits have no effect on him, as he is stares down at your naked body hungrily.

“Why are you doing this to me? I’m not a hybrid, it doesn’t make any sense-“

“Nature doesn’t need to make sense. Nature decided that we’re made for one another, and the sooner you realise this, the sooner you’ll realise that I’m good for you,” He hoists your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulder, a teasing grin on his face, “But right now, I’m going to make you cum as many times as I can.”

He attaches his mouth to your unprotected pussy, lips sucking at your clit, whilst his tongue enters your unprepared opening. A loud yelp leaves your lips at the feeling.

His veiny hands grip the fat of your thighs, as he moves your hips to rub against his face. At first, you’re really uncomfortable, but after a few moments, you’re having to restrain yourself from moaning lamely. Jean is paying special attention to your clit, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine.

A particularly hard suck has you gushing with arousal, and although it wasn’t an orgasm, it was enough to make your thighs shake pathetically. You can feel him grin against your slit, as he inches a hand down to your cunny, and slips a thick finger inside of you. A loud mewl echoes through your chest, as your once slapping hands cover your face in shame.

“Are you feeling good, Heart?” His airy voice would be suave if it weren't for the fact that you’re being assaulted, and you’re covered in a strange man’s piss.

“Nu-no!” He chuckles at your weak attempt of denying him, and dives back into your weeping pussy. Polnareff rubs his finger against you g-spot with ease, not struggling to find it at all.

That, coupled with the intense suckling on your clit, sends you over the edge. Your juices shoot out onto the white haired man’s face, coating him with your essence.

“That was a strong orgasm, My Love. Are you sure you’re not enjoying yourself?” The teasing lilt in his voice makes you want to punch him in the face, so that’s exactly what you do.

He grunts in pain, and in a moment of anger, flips you onto your stomach, hands held firmly in his grasp. Your back is arched just right to be in the prime breeding position, causing his cock to throb in need. Jean always liked a head-strong woman.

“There’s no need for violence. If you wanted me to make love to you that bad, you could’ve just told me,” He didn’t wait to hear your response, instead choosing to sink his massive cock into your tight walls. Gods, you’re so tight.

The rabbit couldn’t help bun moan at the feeling of your spasming cunny. It’s almost like you’re trying to draw him in!

If that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll receive.

Jean starts a rapid pace, his hips slamming into yours harshly. His heavy balls smack against your clit with every thrust, causing you to scream in both pleasure and pain.

Within moments, you’re creaming and gushing around his length. Moaning in unison with you, he speeds up his ministrations, quickly cumming inside of you. His hips stutter, before stopping, allowing him to cum what seemed like buckets. Your body sags, signifying your belief that he was finished, when in all actuality, he’s far from it.

He immediately restarts his jack hammer pace, his free hand gripping your hip, “You’re perfect! A perfect pussy that squeezes me so good, a perfect personality, and a perfect body. I’m going to knock you up with many kits!” You sob into your pillow, trying to block out his voice, cock, and smell of piss.

You cum again and again, being filled with liters of virile cum. His hand that once held your hip cups your bloated tummy, a dopey smile covering his handsome features.

Jean can practically feel you becoming pregnant, and it satisfied him greatly.

Noticing your lack of movements, he realises that you’ve passed out.

Oh well, when you wake up, he’ll be sure to attend to you once more.

#polnareff x reader #yandere polnareff #jean polnareff #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jojo #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #stardust crusaders

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flowerypeaches · 3 years ago

Text

Mothership

“What is that?”

Hero stopped their approach, a positively bored expression on their face. “What are you doing?”

Their nemesis, who was currently pointing behind Hero with an incredibly overexaggerated look of surprise, rolled their eyes, “Uh, giving you your cue?”

“My cue?”

Villain sighed loudly, dropping the egregious pose. “You're supposed to turn your head, in a suitably dramatic fashion of course, search for what I was pointing at, only for it to be revealed a ruse, granting me the opportunity to strike you unawares so I may gain the upper hand in our skirmish.”

“Mhm, and why would I fall for something so stupid?”

“Because you are stupid?”

“...”

“Ow, okay, okay!” Villain held a hand to their nose, grimacing as it came back bloody from Hero’s rather crude punch. “See, this is what I was trying to avoid. No story, no drama, no excitement. What if I let you get a few good hits in afterwards?”

Hero replied by kicking Villain’s feet out from under them, knocking them onto the cold and cracked pavement. “Looks like I’m already getting a few good hits in.” They leaned over Villain, arms crossed. “Now, are we going to actually fight, or are you going to keep trying to direct your own personal soap opera?”

Hero waited for Villain’s patented snarky response, specifically about how soap operas are a valid form of art and Hero would be wise not to disrespect it, yadda yadda, but none came. In fact, Villain wasn’t even looking at them.

“Uh, Villain? You still with me?”

Villain’s voice was barely above a whisper, “What is that?”

“Seriously? It hasn’t even been a minute and you’re really using the sa-”

“I’m not screwing with you, Hero, there’s something in the sky!”

Hero had to admit, Villain’s acting had gotten much better in the last thirty seconds, but no matter how real it looked, they weren’t going to fall for it. Villain might be messing around now, but Hero couldn’t forget that they were a criminal, and a dangerous one at that.

They reached down, pulling Villain, who was still staring into the sky, up by their collar. “Look, I get that you never got the lead role in the school play or whatever, and want to make the world burn because of it, but could you, just this once, take our fight seriously?”

“I think it's getting closer.”

Hero ignored them, “I’m tired of the other heroes telling me I have it easy because my nemesis would rather focus on projecting their monologue to all of the hostages than actually rob the bank they broke into to begin with.” Sure, Hero was thankful Villain’s obsession with the dramatic kept them from causing too much destruction, but they had their own reputation to uphold, and constant stalemates with the theatre school reject did not help! “Let me tell you what. If you go down to the station without a fuss, then maybe I can get you into one of the nicer cell blocks. You know, the ones with the view of the hills. Does that sound good? Villain? Are you even lis-”

Blinding light filled Hero’s eyes and ears, cutting off every train of thought and any plan of action they might have had before then. They looked up, and despite the harsh light making their eyes water, they could make out the vague shape of a disc floating directly above them.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Told you.”

Hero looked back down to their nemesis, who looked much too smug for the situation at hand, and sneered, “Maybe if you didn’t insist on playing drama club, I might have actually taken you seriously.”

Villain had the courtesy to drop their grin, squinting up at the… “Is it getting brighter?”

It was, and that meant it was too late for Hero to prevent what was about to happen. Familiar cold heat ran through their veins as their limbs locked in place.

A safety precaution.

Definitely not to prevent anyone caught in the beam from escaping.

“Hero? I-I can’t move.” Villain said.

Villain.

They shouldn’t be here.

Hero’s eyes widened, realizing just how screwed they were. They tried to relax their hands, to let go of Villain, to shove them out of the beam, anything, but only managed to twitch their muscles, as if they were encased in a steel mold.

Villain seemed to be doing the same thing, though the trembling may have just been the fear. Any other time, Hero would have loved to see Villain’s mask slip. To force them to acknowledge that, yes, Hero was a real threat to their criminal livelihood. Instead, Villain acted as if Hero was a fellow actor, asking for Hero’s thoughts on new scenes they came up with, or excitedly talking about whatever had happened in their soap that day, a neon flashing sign that indicated they were in desperate need of friends. Did… did that mean Villain thought they were friends?

Not the time.

Hero gave up on their efforts, and let the looming dread wash over them. This wasn’t acceptance, no, they were just giving themself a moment to rest before they faced what was up in the ship. Oh, they weren’t ready.

Two enemies, encircled and entrapped in an ever growing light, locked eyes.

“We’re so f-”

And as quick as it had appeared, the burning light and mysterious ship attached to it, along with Hero and Villain, vanished into the night.

.·°·.·°·.·°·.

Light surrounded Villain. The ambient noise of the city was replaced by a low, droning hum. Any sense of direction was lost as gravity no longer affected them. They were weightless, and, even in this world of superpowers, nothing made sense. Where did the city go? Why couldn’t they move? How were they floating? The light was all-consuming, and Villain would have thought themself lost in it if not for the deathgrip Hero still had around their collar.

Slowly, the light faded, and Villain felt their own weight return to them. Their legs wobbled, and in an instant, whatever force that held them in place disappeared. They would have fallen if not for Hero, who still held them in their grasp.

“What just happened?” Villain said, though not really expecting an explanation.

Looking around, they could see they were now in a circular, silver chamber. Dials and switches and lights and symbols dotted the walls, communicating something or other, and the floor was, what was that, carpet? Villain shuddered. Honestly, it looked a lot like a cheap sci-fi set for a tv show that should have been cancelled three seasons ago than a futuristic aircraft capable of teleporting human beings.

“Oh, no, no, no.” Villain jumped at Hero’s voice, and stumbled as their anchor let them go to run over to a wall.

Not a wall. A window.

Villain blinked.

A window that showed… Earth? No, that couldn’t be right. If they were looking at the earth, that could only mean...

“Shit, we’re already in orbit.” Hero said.

Villain blinked.

They were in space. Space. That was impossible, right? They couldn’t actually be in space. But here they were, staring at the little blue marble with their very own eyes. Was the room spinning? Or was it the spaceship?

Villain ran their hands through their hair.

They were in a spaceship. A spaceship. That was impossible, right? They couldn’t actually be in a spaceship. But here they were, having been abducted by the UFO just seconds ago. By what? Aliens?

Aliens.

Villain forced their gaze away to keep themself from spiraling, instead focusing on Hero, who has since moved on from the window to the numerous switches and lights, tapping the wall and looking at the symbols that popped up. Villain didn’t understand what Hero was trying to do, it wasn’t like they could understand what any of it meant.

Three deep breaths, and Villain made the best plan ever made in 24 seconds. They stepped up next to their nemesis.

“Hero?”

Hero’s hand was covering their mouth, muttering something to themself, and clearly not paying attention. Nevertheless, Villain continued, “Now, as much as I hate to say it, I think we may have to work together to get back on Earth.” Truth be told, in any other circumstance, Villain would have been ecstatic to work with their nemesis. Whether to defeat a worse villain or take down some other hero that had become corrupt, they would have welcomed the opportunity wholeheartedly.

Why? Well, Villain would argue that it was more interesting, that their relationship, and subsequent fights, would have more dramatic tension. Definitely not because of any other tension that may arise from spending time together.

Villain puffed out their chest, “Lucky for you, I have decided to put aside our differences, and your lack of charisma, to take the initiative and save us both from peril. Yes, this does go against my better judgement, and yes, it may possibly be my most difficult role to date, but if it means I get to go back home in time to watch my soaps, then it’ll be worth it.”

Hero finally turned towards them, “Do you ever shut up?”

“Only for dramatic effect.” Villain said with an award-winning smile, earning an eye roll and a huff of annoyance. “So… what do you think we should do?”

“I thought you said you’d take the initiative?”

“Yes, the initiative in proposing we work together.”

“...”

Villain held up their hands, “Hey, hey, before you go punching willy nilly, why don’t you tell me what you were doing over here? Get anything useful from the flashing green triangle you were poking at?” They would have teased more, but Hero’s lack of response made them move on. “What are you thinking?”

Hero’s eyes flickered to the wall and back to Villain. “You need to leave.”

Villain blinked.

“Well, obviously we need to escape. We were abducted!”

Hero shook their head, “No, you need to leave. I’ll stay, and deal with-”

“What? And how are you going to figure out how anything works, huh? Even if you do, why wouldn’t you just come back with me?”

“It’s not that simple, I can’t re-”

A low, loud beep interrupted the enemies, and Villain turned their head in time for a wall opposite the window to open up and let someone through. Someone distinctly… humanlike.

The person, an older woman by the looks of it, smiled brightly and opened their arms. “ .·°¯°·.·° .·°° ?”

That was distinctly not humanlike. It was like hearing someone speak through water, and an undercurrent of static scratched the inside of Villain’s ears.

The woman—were they even a person?—walked closer, and Hero quickly stepped in front of Villain, shielding them.

She paid no mind, however, and spoke again, “ .·°¯°·.·° .·°° ,” looking expectantly at Hero, who, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward. Her smile widened, and Villain was hit with a sense of deja vu. She pulled Hero close, and, were they hugging? Why was Hero letting her? What was happening?

The woman whispered something to Hero, but it wasn’t like Villain could understand even if they tried. Hero turned back to Villain, giving them an apologetic smile before, “ ° .·°° ° .¯ .”

Villain’s jaw dropped.

Hero was replying to the woman. Which meant they understood her. Which meant they knew whatever language was being spoken. Which meant… which meant… Why were they abducted in the first place?

The danger presented itself fully to Villain.

They had been taken off the face of the earth by their mortal enemy, or someone who was well acquainted with them, at the very least, and had no possibility of escape. Villain considered themself clever, but trying to figure out how alien—alien!—technology worked was beyond them. They had to rely wholly on Hero, who, although Villain was loath to admit it, hated their guts. Hero could be plotting in front of Villain right now and they would be none the wiser.

Hero wouldn’t do that. Villain tried to reassure themself, because Hero wouldn’t send them off with some unknown alien being. They’d want to arrest Villain proper, right? Arrest and put them in some high security cell they’d break out of a month later. It was their thing. Villain didn’t want their thing to end.

Huh.

Villain shook their head, they’d have to examine and repress that particular line of thought later, because the woman was suddenly standing in front of them, startling Villain out of their thoughts. She reached out, clutching Villain's jaw with cold fingers, turning them this way and that. As if they were being studied. Was Villain wrong? Was Hero really getting rid of them?

“ ¯ .·°°·°¯ .” She said. Villain’s ears itched worse now that the woman was closer.

Maybe Hero thought they were doing Villain a favour, sending them off on an adventure, letting them create their own melodramatic space opera. Or maybe this was punishment for all the dated Space Trek references. Both were a possibility.

Familiar hands pulled Villain away from the woman and into Hero’s chest. They were not blushing.

“ .·° .¯°·°° !” Hero’s voice was raised, clearly upset at whatever the woman had said.

She, however, was unaffected by Hero’s outburst, gesturing between the two enemies with raised eyebrows, “ °·.°·.°¯°·. .”

Hero shook their head, and Villain felt Hero’s grip tighten ever so slightly, “ °·.°¯ .·°°·.°°¯ .”

A strange noise came from the woman, sounding almost like… bubbles? It was clearer than the other times she spoke, and it was the way she moved that made Villain realize it was a laugh. She was laughing at Villain. Or Hero. Both?

Hero’s hands were shaking, and Villain couldn’t tell if it was with anger or fear.

“ ·° .·° .” Hero was curt with her, and Villain recognized the tone from when they threatened to blow up City Hall. The tone that preceded their fights.

The woman seemed to recognize the tone as well, as she backed off a little, holding her hands up in a placating way. She gave Villain a small wave before nodding at Hero, “ ·.°.°¯°°¯° .· .·° .” and left, the wall closing up behind her.

The pair stood in silence.

Hero let go of Villain, letting them step away. Except, they didn’t. In fact, they did nothing of the sort. Villain spun on their heels and stepped forward, “What on ear–ugh, what just happened?”

“There, um, might be a slight problem.”

“Slight problem? You call this”—Villain gestured wildly around them, narrowly avoiding hitting Hero in the face—”a slight problem?”

Hero leaned away from Villain, avoiding their eyes.

“Care to explain? Anything? At all?”

“Where do I start?”

Villain’s theatrics, for once, wasn’t uncalled for. “Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that we were abducted? That we are in space? Or, or!” Villain backed off, giving themself room to pace around the circular room and project their panic to an audience of one, “That there is an alien speaking to you, Hero, in an alien language, because no human could actually sound like that, acting like she knows you, and you, you reply to her? As if you know her too?”

“Yeah, that would be my… mother.”

“Your mother.”

Hero nodded.

“Your mother who lives in a spaceship. Who speaks an alien language.”

“Who is an alien.”

“Who is an alien.” It took a good second for the words to sink in. “Your mother is an alien?! Like, an alien from an alien planet?”

Hero nodded again.

Villain felt their brain short-circuit. “Does that mean…”

“That I’m an alien from an alien planet? Yes.”

Villain felt lightheaded. This was okay. This was manageable. This world-shattering, insane truth of the universe was perfectly manageable, and they were not going to spiral, not for one second. Deep breaths. One… two… three… Villain stopped pacing, facing Hero with the calmest expression the latter had ever seen on the former. “Okay, so now that you’ve had your nice little family reunion, we can go back, right?”

Hero’s face was a cross between a smile and a wince.

Villain’s expression twitched, but held firm, “And why not?”

“Well, my mother-”

“The alien.”

Hero tried not to get annoyed, but damn, did Villain make it hard. “Yes, my mother the alien. She, erm,” They groaned, covering their face with their hands, “She may have made a fundamental mistake about the nature of our relationship.”

“And what mistake would that be?” Villain grit their teeth.

“She may, perhaps, think that, we’re… dating.”

“Louder, Hero. Speak so everyone in the audience can hear you.”

“She thinks we’re dating!”

Villain blinked, completing the rule of thirds and simultaneously breaking their composure. So much for not spiraling. “Dating?” Their voice squeaked.

“Dating,” Hero nodded, “And-”

“There’s more?!” Villain turned away, back to pacing and practically pulling their hair out from the absurdity.

“And, the reason we can’t leave yet is because she invited us to dinner.”

Oh. Oh, no. Oh, no no no.

“What’s wrong? I thought you loved drama.” Hero said, failing to lighten the mood. “Aren’t family confrontations and misunderstandings the bread and butter of soap operas?”

“My love of drama left me when we left the atmosphere.” Villain glared at Hero with enough ferocity to start a fire.

Villain walked up to the walls, flicking the switches and turning the dials, to see if, miraculously, they could make the ship go back to the city. The lights blinked mockingly in response.

“Uh, Villain?”

“There doesn’t happen to be an escape pod on this ship, does there?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“We’re really going to have to do this, aren’t we?” Villain said, turning to face their nemesis.

“Unfortunately yes.”

Two enemies, both flushed head to toe from frustration and embarrassment, locked eyes.

And Villain, lover of monologues and soliloquies, came up with the most profound, most thought-provoking line they could think of.

“We’re so fucked.”

Hero was inclined to agree.

203 notes · View notes

blu-joons · 4 years ago

Text

You Surprise Him At The Studio ~ Bang Chan

You were quick to run towards your car as you walked out of your office, feeling a shiver run down your spine as a result of the cold weather. As you sat down, you noticed a missed a call from Chan at the top of your notifications, calling him back once you were settled to check up on him.

“I forgot you were at work today, I left my lunch at home,” he informed you as he picked up your call to let you know what was wrong. “It doesn’t matter now though, I’ll just have a huge dinner to make up for it,” he added, having heard you sigh on the other end of the line at his mistake.

As he spoke, your eyes glanced across the street to the deli you often visited for lunch. You pursed your lips together as he continued to reassure, watching as two men walked out of the shop, laughing away to themselves.

“I’ll make sure you eat,” you finally replied once he’d finished talking, “don’t worry, I’ll see you in a bit,” you added, hanging up the call. Your hands tapped on the steering wheel, glancing across at the store one last time before getting out of the car.

You ran across the street, pulling your jacket around yourself to try and keep warm. The staff were very familiar with you, greeting you with a warm smile as you walked in. Your eyes scanned the menu, guessing eight sandwich fillings that would please your boyfriend and his friends.

You waited for a few moments for the food to be prepared, taking the four carrier bags, and heading back to your car. The studio wasn’t too far away from your office, luckily, as you hoped that the sandwiches would remain warm.

Your eyes spotted their cars in the carpark as you drove in, relieved to see that they were all still there. You reached behind you to the back seat to grab the bags before heading through the revolving door and into the JYP building.

As soon as you walked in you bumped into Dahyun and Sana as they walked in the opposite direction, smiling widely as they realised what was in your hand and who you would be seeing.

“Chan is a lucky boy,” Sana chuckled, pulling you into a hug.

“Try telling him that,” you chuckled, making sure to greet Dahyun too. “I take it they’re up in the usual studio, he mentioned they were rehearsing after you guys today.”

“They are,” Dahyun replied, “I don’t know how you put up with them, the noise they make when they enter any room is crazy,” she chuckled. “Maybe we need to find a way to encourage you to bring us food too from now on.”

Your smile grew as Tzuyu also passed by you, blushing as she noticed the reason you were at the studio. Your own cheeks reddened as several other people passed by you too.

“It’s a cute gesture, don’t worry,” Sana whispered from beside you, “you know the way, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

You waved goodbye before heading towards the elevator, pressing for the sixth floor to head up to the dance studio. At times, the building felt like a bit of a maze, but Chan had made sure to show you the way to all the rooms that you’d ever find him in.

Once you reached the door, you peered in to see them all sat around, guzzling down on water bottles. You quietly pushed the door open, hearing it crackle, bringing several pairs of eyes round to look at what was going on. Chan’s eyes widened the moment he saw you, feeling his tummy rumble as he saw the bags of food you carried too.

“I bought lunch,” you smiled, holding the bags out as they raced towards you, snatching them from your hands. “I thought you all might react like this.”

Rather than race for food, Chan appeared by your side, wrapping his arm firmly around you to press a thankful kiss to your cheek. Echoes of thanks came from around the room as the boys tore into the bags to look at what you’d bought them.

“You didn’t need to do this, is it because I forgot lunch this morning?” He asked, to which you nodded. “I told you I’d get food later.”

“You need to eat if you’re going to dance,” you scolded, “I finished early, so I thought I’d come by and look after you seeing as you failed to look after yourself.”

Chan took a hold of your hand, pulling you onto the floor with the rest of the members. There was only one meal left, which Chan took, splitting it in half and passing it along to you.

“You need to eat too,” he smiled, making sure that you took it from him, “you should have ordered nine meals, not eight. You have to look after yourself like you look after me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a good boyfriend and look after her?” Minho asked him.

“Why else do you think I’m sharing my lunch?” Chan argued back at him, “I always take care of her, especially when she doesn’t look after herself.”

Your head shook as you felt Jisung nudge your side. “You should hear the things he says about you when you’re not around. I honestly think he’s obsessed with you Y/N.”

Chan’s eyes rolled, throwing one of the empty boxes in Jisung’s direction. “There’s a reason why I never invite Y/N to the studio, and it’s because of all of you. Stop talking nonsense and trying to embarrass me or I’ll extend the practice for tonight.”

“Do you really have the power to do that?” You whispered into his ear, “isn’t that something that management should decide?”

“I don’t have the power,” he whispered in response, “but it’s nice to keep them on their toes and make them think that they’re in control. If I didn’t do this, they’d run riot around the place and we’d never get anything done.”

“You’re the worst,” you laughed, gently hitting against his chest. “What are you guys working on anyway? I never get to see any of your projects these days.”

“We’re working on some new routines,” Jeongin informed you.

With that, Felix extended an invitation for you to spend the afternoon with them. Just as Chan began to protest, the other members all stood up, barricading the studio door to stop you from leaving, despite Chan trying to get them to stop.

“Don’t you want Y/N to see how hard you’re working?” Hyunjin asked him, the ringleader in pinning the door shut. “Even if you don’t want her here, we do.”

“I do want her here, I just know what you’re all like,” Chan groaned, “the rehearsal will turn into a fight to make sure you have Y/N’s attention on you.”

“My eyes will be watching you Chan; you don’t have to worry.”

His head spun around to look at you before glaring back around at all the boys. “It’s not you that I worry about, it’s these idiots who love to wind me up. As long as they behave, I’d love to have you here for the afternoon with us.”

“I’m sure they’ll behave, won’t you?” You asked them all.

“We always do with you Y/N!”

---

Masterlist

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mickmackpattywack · 2 years ago

Text

The Queen of Fire Meets the King of Hellfire CH 1: Damned Spiders

ST4 but with Jamie (Nine/009). I used the comic book (Into the Fire) as a rough starting point. Jamie possesses Pyrokinesis (the ability to create/control fire). Starts off when Eddie’s already fled to Reefer Rick’s.

Snippet: She looks back in the direction she came from, then starts to run again in the opposite direction. As she’s running, the back of her shirt reads in big black letters, Pennhurst Mental Hospital.

Chapter 1 – Damned Spiders

There’s a figure flashing past thick trees in the forest. The sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves on the ground, as it goes by. It’s breathing heavy. It slows down, coming to a stop. There’s a person hunched over, hands on their knees, trying to catch their breath. They have long brown hair flowing down as their head hangs. They’re wearing a pair of white slip-on shoes and a matching set of light blue scrubs. They lift their face, it’s a girl. She has a lightly freckled face and blue eyes, filled with fear and exhaustion. She looks back in the direction she came from, then starts to run again, in the opposite direction. As she’s running, the back of her shirt reads in big black letters, Pennhurst Mental Hospital.

The girl spots a house next to a lake in the woods. As she approaches, it’s quiet, not a soul in sight. She cautiously walks up to one of the front windows, peeking in. The place is a mess, looking deserted. She tries lifting the window, but it’s locked. She goes to the front door and tries opening it. Locked. She goes to the back of the house and attempts to open the backdoor, also locked. Why would someone care so much about keeping a dump like this locked up? Frustrated, she tries one of the back windows, and thankfully, it’s unlocked. She lifts it up slowly, it will only open up halfway. It’s a tight fit, but she can make it. She crawls in, head and hands first, then pulls her feet in. She plops to the floor on her side. She stands up and closes the window back.

She turns around and notices she’s in a kitchen. She moves forward slowly, still not sure if someone could be in the house. She’s extremely thirsty, quickly walking over to the kitchen sink and turning on the faucet. She sticks her head under, gulping the tap water. Suddenly, she hears a thump. Fuck. Was that in the house? Was it outside? Maybe it was an animal, she was out in the woods. She looks over and notices a knife set holder on the counter. She walks over and pulls the biggest knife out of the set. She slowly walks down the hallway, looking in each room as she passes. All of them in disarray, but still, no one in sight. She walks back in the other direction. As she passes the couch, she hears the front door being unlocked. She quickly ducks in front of the couch as she hears the front door swing open and quickly shut. She hears the door get locked from the inside. Listening to their footsteps, she can tell they’re coming in her direction. She crawls around, avoiding the persons sight, now hiding behind the back of the couch.

A few moments later, she hears clattering: the opening and closing of drawers and cabinets. A male voice speaks “Yeah, you’ll do.”

She slowly creeps her head around the side of the couch, just enough for one eye to see in that direction. She first notices a dark brown, almost black, fluffy head of hair. She then sees the strangers face.

As we know, this is Eddie Munson.

She watches as him put a pot on the stove. As he goes to find a can opener, he glimpses at the knife set. He notices the big one is missing. The girl goes back to her original position behind the couch. Oh god, does he notice it’s missing? She needs to get the hell out of there before he sees her, but she can’t move now. She’ll have to wait until he leaves the room.

Eddie starts to half panic, trying to rationalize. Was that always missing? Did I take it out when I got here? But he’d been in there earlier, rummaging for beer and food. He could have sworn it was there. Why didn’t he grab a knife earlier? Okay- his paranoia is getting the better of him and now his thoughts are just rambling. He decides to drop it and continue to prepare his food, he’s starving.

Hearing him go back to cooking, she peers her head around again. This time, there’s an enormous spider, right next to her face. She lets out a squealish scream and quickly shuffles back behind the couch.

“Shit!” the can drops from Eddie’s hand and onto the floor. He backs up into the counter. Does he run? Does he investigate? Who the hell would be here?!

“Who‘s there?” Eddie asks sternly.

No answer. He slowly begins to walk toward the couch. He pauses, let’s not make the same mistake twice. He walks to the knife set, pulling out the second biggest knife.

The girl hears the sliding of the knife out of the holder. She squeezes her eyes in frustration. This is gonna get ugly. She does not want to fight anyone, but she is not going back to that hell hole. As she hears the footsteps get closer, she decides sitting on the ground isn’t the best fighting position. She leaps out from behind the couch holding out the knife defensively. Eddie jumps standing across from her, but then quickly mirrors her stance with his knife.

“Jesus! Who are you?!” asks Eddie.

“Who are you?!” asks the girl.

“I asked you first!”

“I- have the bigger knife!”

“So?!”

“So! I’m asking the questions! Are you the only one here?” asks the girl.

Eddie struggles to answer. What the hell is going on?

“Are you?!” asks the girl.

“Yes!”

“Is there anyone else coming?”

“No! Look, you don’t need the knife! I’m a chill guy. Just, relax” says Eddie.

“You can’t tell anyone I was here. I’ll leave, but you can’t tell anyone.”

Eddie begins to panic. Leave? No, she can’t leave. What if she tells someone she saw him here? He’d have to find another place to hide, or worse, he’ll be caught and arrested.

Thankfully, an idea pops into his head.

...

“Hey, can I be totally honest with you?” asks Eddie.

She shakes her head and knife at him for him to get on with what he’s saying.

He lowers his voice to a whisper “I’m also hiding from the cops. So, believe you me, I will not be calling anyone.”

“Why would you be hiding?” asks the girl.

“... Drugs. I’m a drug dealer. Cops already got my buddy and now they’re looking for me.”

...

She stares at him intensely, trying to figure out if she believes him or not “If you’re lying-“

“I’m not. Cross my heart. I mean, do I look like a stand-up citizen?”

She looks him up and down. She shrugs her shoulders “Maybe a member of that… Metallica? group.”

Eddie scoffs “You flatter me.” Thank God, she has no idea who he is.

She slowly lowers the knife “So... who’s house is this?”

“Friend of a friends.”

She looks side to side “It’s kind of a dump.”

“No, yeah, it’s a piece of shit.”

“Spider,” she points back to the couch with the knife “There was a spider, that’s why I freaked out.”

“Ugh, spawns of Satan…” He’s trying to lighten the tension, and she can tell he’s trying to, but there’s no way she’s letting her guard down.

“Now, am I allowed to ask about,” he gestures to her person in general “This whole situation?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

“We’ll that doesn’t seem very fair. I shared my demons. I mean what even are those? Scrubs? You run away from your job as a dentists assistant?”

“Look, I just need a place to lay low for a while. I’m tired. I’m hungry...”

“Hey, Me casa es su casa... wait, did I say that right?”

“Yes, you did… do you… have any food?” asks the girl.

“I was just about to eat myself, but… there’s not much. Haven’t had a chance to go to the store” he says with a slight smile.

“Well, what do you have?”

“I was just about to make SpaghettiOs. Hawkins finest.”

“...Works for me.”

Eddie goes back toward the kitchen. She follows him, keeping a distance. Eddie sets down his knife on the counter. He picks up the can from the floor and continues to open it “You okay with splitting it?” he asks.

“...Yes" she says.

Eddie can tell she’s still nervous, as she fiddles with the knife.

“You don’t need the knife ya know. Just a couple of strangers eating SpaghettiOs in an abandoned house” says Eddie.

“Was that supposed to be reassuring?” she asks.

“Yeah, that may of... come off a little creepy. Apologies.”

He lights up the fire on the stove and dumps the cans contents into the pot. He looks at the somewhat dried blood coming from of her nose. She also has a cut and slight bruise on her left cheekbone. He walks and grabs a rag on the counter and hands it to her. "You might wanna..." he motions wiping the rag over his face.

It takes a second before her demeanor becomes a bit timorous. She reaches to take the rag with one hand, then notices she still holding a knife in the other. She slowly holds the handle side of the knife out to Eddie. He takes it, and she takes the rag. She puts it to her nose, dabbing the blood.

"I'd hate to see the other guy" says Eddie, attempting to lighten the mood.

She looks away. You really would, she thought. She puts the rag to her cheekbone and slightly grimaces as it stings. He goes back over to the pot on the stove.

“I’m gonna get some water. Are there... cups or something?" she asks, motioning to the cabinets.

"Should be, in that one I think" says Eddie, pointing to the cabinet on her right. She walks up to it and sets the rag down on the counter. She notices a walkie talkie sitting there “What’s this for?” she asks.

“Oh, uh....” think Munson. She may freak out if she knows you’re in contact with other people. “To listen to the cops. See if they’re talking about me. I’ll know if they’re coming and need to bolt.”

“Oh... didn’t know you could do that.”

“Yeah,” says Eddie, with an exasperated breath “It’s real handy” ...that was a close one.

She reaches up and opens the cabinet. As she’s grabbing a cup, Eddie sees the back of her shirt. In big black letters: 'Pennhurst Mental Hospital' .

While setting the glass down, she realizes he’s reading her shirt.

“Shit” she says, quickly turning her back away from him.

Ch2: The Tattoo - Link

Ch3: So, There’s This Girl… - Link

Ch4: Mad Max - Link

Ch5: Are You A Nerd? - Link

Ch6: Hey, Freak! - Link

Ch7: Skull Rock - Link

Ch8: I'll Follow You Into Mordor - Link

Ch9: Watergate - Link

Ch10: Jamie, A Little Help?! - Link

Ch11: It’s All A What? - Link

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things season 4 #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x original female character #eddie munson x oc #009 #nine #superpowers #eddie munson fluff #eventual smut #stranger things #eddie munson smut

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