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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 4 years ago

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Nemesis: Retribution (4)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), voyeurism, exhibitionism, authority kink, praise kink, spanking, slight dom themes, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Slowing it down just a bit to move plot along. Freaking out on the reblogs and comments are encouraged and will be rewarded with cookies. Seriously though, I love hearing what you guys think and use some of it to make the next chapters better. I adore you all! Have at it!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

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1:4 Apple Crumble

Steve Rogers had kindly offered for you and your team to stay at the Compound. For however long this mission would take, you were all going to start running straight at it early tomorrow. In terms of the mission, he was relieved to have your help. The sooner the serum was out of circulation the better and they truthfully did need your help. This underground world was more your scene now and you could better navigate it.

On a personal level, he was glad that you were sticking around even if it was on a contract. He would take whatever opportunity he can and make the best of it. That's how he's always been and he wasn't going to change that now.

He told himself that it was because he was the Captain that he was at your door this late after you all had agreed to part for the night. It was out of consideration that he carried with him some of his own clothes to offer you in case you needed something to change into. It was out of a need to clear the tension with you now that you were going to work as a team again that he was knocking on your door.

That was all.

You opened the door a moment later wrapped only in a short towel and with your hair still dripping wet from the shower. The smile that rose on your face was sly as you leaned on the doorframe with your arms crossed and your hip cocked to one side. He swallowed.

Maybe that wasn't all.

"What can I do for you, Cap?"

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was far too distracted by the little droplet that rolled down from your temple to the valley of your breasts. He shook his head and cleared his throat, forcing himself to focus only on your eyes and not the inappropriate answers that sprung to mind at your question.

"I brought you a change of clothes in case you need it," he managed to say. "And I wanted to talk to you if you're not too tired."

You opened the door wider and took the clothes from him without a word, turning into the room toward the bathroom. You casually dropped your towel to the floor and Steve choked at the sight of your bare back, a small set of black panties the only stitch you wore. The breath in his chest released only when you disappeared into the bathroom, the door cracked open offering him enticing glimpses as you moved around.

Steve hurriedly closed the door behind him and as he made his way further in, he caught sight of an open go bag beside your bed with clothes clearly visible. There was also a shirt and sweats beside it, the design he knew belonged to Pietro. He felt a little embarrassed. Of course Pietro would have already beaten him to it and that your team always came prepared. Still there was a satisfaction that bloomed in him when you stepped out clad in his shirt, the hem barely reaching mid thigh and bare feet soundlessly crossing the carpeted floor until you came to sit with him on the sofa. You tucked your legs under you and rested your head on your hand over the back of the seat.

"Gotta say I like this look, Steve," you grinned at him.

He chuckled, self-consciously rubbing at his beard and pulling at the hair at the back of his collar. The light dusting of red on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"What? You don't like the all American apple pie look?"

You hummed and took a leisurely look at him from head to toe. Rugged and imposing as he appeared, the heat on his face intensified at your obvious appreciation and the way you swiped your tongue along your bottom lip. You were biting your lip when your eyes met his again, trying to stop yourself from laughing at how flustered he was getting and how much you were enjoying it. You've always found Steve handsome and he made apple pie look damn good, but this look on him was just so dangerously delicious.

You had a type.

"I'm more of an apple crumble kind of girl. I like the texture better," you winked. "And I don't mind a little beard burn."

"Will your team mind that I'm talking to you without one of them here?"

You raised an eyebrow and held his unsteady gaze, clearly understanding he meant more than just your professional relationship with the three men.

"You're curious."

"It's none of my business. That's not what I came to talk to you about," he stammered, unaccustomed to how forward you were.

"What did you want to talk about then?"

"I wanted to apologize properly and thank you for agreeing to help."

You groaned and threw your whole body back on the seat, causing Steve's shirt to ride up just shy of completely flashing him. You sat back up and pinched the bridge of your nose, letting out a long breath. It was only the fact that it was Steve that you were even entertaining this conversation.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Steve," you firmly dismissed.

"I do, Nem. We all do."

"Fine. List down what you're sorry about. Let's go through it one by one or we can draw lots to make it interesting."

"Nem," he said, low and clear with warning yet imploring you to listen. "Can you take this seriously for one second?"

The ever present smirk on your face dropped as you sighed heavily and ran a hand through your hair. For the first time since he's seen you, your expression softened a fraction and a shadow of the person he used to know passed across your features.

"Listen to me, Steve. I don't blame any of you. I'm not angry at any of you. I honestly have no room for more anger even if I wanted to be."

In the beginning you were. There were days while you were getting tortured that you hated them while you pleaded to the heavens for them to rescue you. It had taken a decade and three incredible men for that inferno of fury to turn into a manageable bitterness.

"Do you know how tiring it is to be so fucking angry all the time?" you chuckled darkly. "It took a while, but I learned to prioritize what I choose to be angry about."

"Salvacion," he muttered and you nodded, your eyes staring blankly forward.

"I've carried that name for a decade, Steve. That asshole has to die by my hands."

Steve saw now how selfish he was for forcing the conversation with the purpose of earning your forgiveness. It was for easing his own guilt that he was doing it when instead he should have just been thanking you for what you did and had to endure.

"Why didn't you ever come back?"

"I tried, Steve. When I was recovered enough I tried to go back. Did you know my sister had a girlfriend?"

He shook his head, throat suddenly closing at the sight of absolute misery in your eyes. He regretted starting this conversation even more.

"Jill. She was amazing to Lily and she was like a sister to me too," you smiled a little, not in your usual sarcastic way but with a hint of gentle fondness before your expression hardened once more.

"I saw her and I just couldn't bring myself to face her. I'm the reason the love of her life is dead. I couldn't, Steve"

It started off with the fear that they might have killed Jill too. You told yourself you had to know, but truthfully you were trying desperately to find a connection to Lily. You found her visiting the graveyard, laying flowers on two stones and spending the afternoon sitting on the ground tearfully talking to the dead. The shame burned through you and from then on you made it your sole purpose to destroy the man who took Lily from you both. Until then you had no right to face her. You had no right to return to the life you once knew.

Steve noticed that you weren't crying although the look in your eyes was swimming with grief. He expected you to cry, but somehow seeing you with dry eyes only made you look more in pain. You only clenched your fists, your shoulders tense and your jaw stiff. Steve decided he would tell the others instead of having you go through this conversation again.

He would do that for you.

You woke up surprisingly refreshed the following morning, strangely lighter than you have felt in the past decade. You didn't expect for that talk with Steve to have such an impact on you. You smiled ruefully, remembering your many counseling sessions with Curtis before and that maybe you were finally seeing his point.

FRIDAY had directed you to the larger conference room for today's briefing session with the rest of the team. You were wearing another one of Steve's shirts paired with your usual cargo pants, a fact that didn't go unnoticed judging by the raised eyebrows and teasing smiles. Billy in particular was leaning in to whisper to Matt what was going on.

"You don't have to tell me. I can smell it," Matt chuckles, crinkles visible at the edges of his dark sunglasses. "His cologne is quite distinct."

You smacked Billy on the arm, but laughed with them as well before throwing a wink at Steve who proceeded to blush a deep red. As you took your seat, a cup of coffee suddenly materialized in front of you accompanied by Pietro's ever bright smile. You smiled gratefully and took a sip, eyes slightly rounding in surprise at the taste.

"You remembered how I took my coffee."

"I've forgotten nothing about you, little star."

You haven't taken your coffee that way in so long. It's been just strong plain black coffee lately, the lack of sugar and cream where you lived with the boys being a factor. It had seemed pointless to eat something sweet when there was a permanent sour taste in your mouth from life. Now though you couldn't seem to help taking one sip after another, licking your lips before going in for more.

Right now this tasted right.

You didn't notice that Billy was smiling adoringly at you and sharing a look of approval with Frank as the briefing began, happy that someone aside from him was spoiling you. You certainly didn't know that Matt was smirking because he heard your heart literally skip a beat at the sweet gesture.

It took hours for the meeting to wrap up, but there was still more to do before you could actually take action. A number of the Avengers were sent out to gather more intel while the rest would stay to make further preparations.

"I only really need to talk to Frank a bit more," Steve said as he approached your group. "Why don't we have Pietro show you guys around the Compound? There are some improvements I think you'll find interesting."

Your tour guide for the afternoon appeared beside you, taking your hand in his and bouncing on the balls of his feet in his excitement. He was just too cute that you couldn't help but let out a small smile. The effect he had on you remained it seems.

"A tour would be really helpful for me," Matt easily agreed.

"And I go wherever the pretty girl goes," Billy added, slinging his arm over your shoulders.

"Great. Surrender your weapons and you should be good to go," Steve asked with a pointed look at both you and Billy who groaned in answer.

Billy was ready with a string of complaints and counter arguments when the clang of metal on the glass conference table stunned him into silence. He watched in complete disbelief as you removed every gun and blade attached to your body, efficiently dismantling them and lining them up on the table.

"Is she?" Matt murmured, leaning closer to Billy.

"Yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah."

By the time you stepped back, there was practically a decent sized armory on the table. How and where you managed to fit all of it on your person was a mystery to them.

"You missed one," Billy said, snapping out of his daze.

He stepped in front of you and casually slipped his arm up the front of your shirt and under your sports bra. His fingers grazed unnecessarily close to your now hardened nipples and he simply winked when you raised an eyebrow at him. Billy pulled out two small throwing daggers soon after and placed them alongside your other weapons.

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting about those," you chuckled.

"Do you always come armed to the teeth?" Bucky snapped, clearly bothered by the display.

"She doesn't want her team to carry extra ammo for her, Sergeant," Billy scowled at him, the obvious animosity surprising Bucky. When he turned back to Pietro, his expression was back to his usual playful one. "So how about that tour?"

Frank turned to Steve when you had exited the room. "You gotta teach me that trick, Cap."

"What trick?"

"First time in 10 years I've seen her take any kind of order without a knife fight first," he said, cracking a smile and shaking his head.

It turns out that coming back was doing some good for you and this made him more comfortable around the Avengers. He wasn't about to braid them friendship bracelets but he was less inclined to pop a cap in their ass. At least for the time being.

Walking around the Compound brought back some of that wonder you felt when you first stepped in, but it recalled everything you had lost. Sensing the sudden tension in you, Billy gripped you by the waist and pulled you into his side. He kissed your temple, a silent reminder of what you had gained.

Pietro had been an absolute sweetheart, specifically describing what was in the area for Matt's benefit and pointing out the changes to you. The training area was your last stop, the place you had spent the most time in during your short stint here. There were loud sounds coming from the area and walking in you saw fresh-faced recruits in paired off sparring sessions.

Your full attention was on Pietro as he happily listed off the new features and answered questions from Matt and Billy, the latter now in businessman mode as he thought of what he could implement for Anvil. You were having an unusually pleasant time until a familiar shrill voice demanded your attention.

"Well look what the street cat dragged in. Y/N?"

You knew that voice. A decade with torture and trauma included apparently couldn't change how much her voice grated at you. The cold smirk made a reappearance on your face as you slowly turned to face her, the three men with you were instantly alarmed at the change in your demeanor.

"Kim," you nodded.

"Thought you were dead."

"Thanks. Can't say I thought about you at all though."

"I see you're still pathetically clinging to Pietro."

"What can I say? He's really cute," you said with a wink at Pietro who seemed to enjoy the compliment.

She sneered at you, her irritation rising when you weren't backing down like you used to do. She couldn't quite put her finger on what had changed about you, but you seemed rougher around the edges and far too cocky for her liking. Luckily, she still remembered a sure-fire way to take you down a few pegs.

"I'm teaching a class on hand to hand combat. How about we show them a demonstration on what a real fight looks like?"

You giggled as your smile grew, a disturbing sight that made even Kim doubt herself for a moment. You nodded your head in easy acceptance and she looked like she was pleased at herself for getting this opportunity. Before you could step forward though, you found Matt's walking stick blocking your path.

"What? It's not assault if it's provoked," you grinned at the frown on his face.

He hated it when you found loopholes, but he relented with a heavy sigh. He was too used to this. He leaned toward Pietro and told him that he should inform the Captain.

"Get some snacks too, roadrunner," Billy chuckled, delightedly watching you strip off your shirt and walking confidently towards Kim on the sparring mats.

Pietro had returned a moment later after completing his task, actually handing Billy a bag of fresh popcorn. The smile on his face froze when he caught sight of your bare skin. So far all he had seen as evidence of your torture was what was visible on your neck and face. He had stupidly brushed that fact aside, too excited to have found you again. Now the vicious marring on your beautiful skin was a cruel reminder of their failure as your team. They had failed you.

He had failed you.

Back in the conference room, the same feelings were shared by two super soldiers. They had pulled up surveillance on the training area after Pietro's message, just in time to see you take off that shirt.

Bucky felt the air leave his lungs at the horrific sight. He was alive and you had paid a heavy price for saving him. He could barely keep his eyes on you, the shame burning through him. He didn't want to imagine the amount of pain you had to endure to sustain those injuries.

"Don't you people dare look at her with pity," Frank warned. "Those scars are a testament to her strength. She's damn beautiful."

Steve agreed. He'd caught a glimpse of your scars last night and jarring as they were, your complete lack of self consciousness to them just made you more alluring. Looking back at the screen though he was concerned that you could hurt yourself. Kim was a top agent now, high enough in the ranks to be training recruits and leading missions. She had proven herself deadly in combat, but the way you were grinning was chilling in itself.

"One question before we start," you said.

"What?" Kim scoffed, flipping her braided hair over her shoulder.

"When's your next mission?"

"2 weeks. Why?" she answered, perfect brow raised in confusion.

"Just calculating your recovery time," you shrugged. "I'm nice that way."

Kim predictably charged at you then, growling and cursing at you under her breath. You smirked, standard SHIELD movements were easy to read for you. You stayed completely still and relaxed in your stance as she lunged at you with her fist. You timed your movement precisely, sidestepping at the absolute last moment. One hand grabbed at the back of her head, forcing it down to ram against your oncoming fist with a sickening crack.

Broken nose.

Kim shrieked in pain as the blood gushed from her nose and she tried to pull away from you. You didn't let her. You pulled her down by the shoulder to bend her over before driving your knee up her midsection. She wheezed at the impact, the mat below her smattered with her blood.

Bruised ribs. Maybe slightly broken.

You unceremoniously threw her aside, letting her fall groaning on her side. You clicked your tongue, watching her struggle and turning to the class she was supposed to be teaching.

"Lesson 1, kids," you waved your hands in Kim's general direction. "Don't end up like that."

Broken ego.

You turned to go back to your boys when the glint of metal caught your eye. You tilted your head just in time for the dagger to zip past your eye line, only thinly scratching at your cheek. Your hands reacted on instinct, reaching for the small hidden pocket along the waistband of you pants. You flicked the thin blade with deft fingers, embedding on the mat and landing it purposely close to Kim's eyes that it cut through her fake lashes.

"Nem!" Steve's unmistakable voice boomed through the speakers. You had forgotten that they had FRIDAY everywhere. "We said no weapons."

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheekily at the cameras. "It's just a nail file. I don't like keeping blood under my nails."

"You call that training?" Steve groaned rubbing his eyes and turning to Frank.

"I call that anger management," Frank said, amused at how unpredictable to handle they already found you when they've barely scratched the surface. He noticed how Bucky looked furious, his metal hand clutching a little too hard onto the table. "Don't like what you see, Sarge?"

Bucky didn't answer. He didn't tell them that he didn't like what he saw because he knew he was a major contributor in what caused it. If only he had been kinder, gentler, more honest. Maybe things would have turned out differently.

He walked down the hallways much later gripping a first aid kit in his metal hand and nervously running the other through his cropped hair. The cut on your face was barely anything, but he needed an excuse to talk to you. He was afraid you would turn him away, but he was terrified that you wouldn't. He didn't know what to say to you. He didn't know how to begin to apologize for everything he's done. His palm grew sweaty and beads were beginning to form on his brow.

He was only a few steps away from your bedroom door and he was sorely tempted to turn back around when he noticed that it was cracked open and he could hear voices from inside. He should have followed his instinct to keep his distance but a high whine that definitely came from you pushed him to peak through the small opening.

What he saw made his already thumping heartbeat grow quicker. His eyes grew wide and his throat went dry. Whatever he was expecting, it definitely wasn't this.

You. Stark naked. Grinding your mound on someone's face.

You looked absolutely glorious as you wound your hips in your chase for release; head thrown, back arched, and lips in a dreamy smile. The view he had of you, facing him and deep into your pleasure, was enough to cause his pants to tighten. He couldn't see which one of your teammates was beneath you, the bedframe blocking his view. Whoever they were, Bucky was jealous. He wanted to taste you too.

He felt that stirring of longing again now as he watched you in the throes of passion with another man. He felt it the moment you stepped back into their lives. He felt it during the 10 years they thought you were dead. And he felt it when you were still in training as a recruit every time you smiled at Pietro and Steve.

You picked up your pace and he could see muscular arms reach up to grip your waist and pull you down harder. You were panting curses, your breathing turning erratic and Bucky could see your thighs begin to shake. The sight of you coming undone has to be the most entrancing thing he's ever seen.

Movement from you and your partner pulled him from the hypnosis caused by your erotic display. His face heated up, deeply embarrassed at having watched you for so long and finding enjoyment in basically violating your privacy. He was about to leave when the man whose face you had been riding, came up to kneel behind you.

He pulled your hips back against his own, sliding his hard length easily into your dripping cunt causing you to moan so deliciously that Bucky felt a shiver run down his spine. You reached your hand up to grip the back of his head, letting him bury his own in your neck as he set a languid pace with his thrusts.

Your head rolled to the side and your eyes opened, locking directly with Bucky's. You smirked and reached down to circle your swollen bud, pressing your back further against the hard body rutting behind you and purposely putting on a show. You winked at him.

He bolted out of there.

"That wasn't very nice, honey," the low voice was thick with lust in your ear. His breathing was growing labored too, finding your heat wrapping around him overwhelming.

"I don't see you stopping, Captain."

"How can I when you're gripping me so tight?" He snapped his hips earning a sharp moan from you. "Did you like that? Torturing my best pal with me balls deep inside you?"

You sighed and closed your eyes. Apple pie Steve wouldn't have whispered such sinful things to you, but this Steve could make you cum with just filthy words alone.

"Yeah, you did. Look at you clenching and soaking my cock from having Bucky watch you. You like being bad to him, honey?"

A sudden smack to your ass had you snapping your eyes open. He chuckled into your neck, biting down hard on the juncture as he felt you gripping him even tighter.

"Answer," he growled, landing a harsher smack to your bottom.

"Yes! Yes, Captain, I did."

"Good. Will you be good for me now, honey? You caused a bit of trouble today." His thrusting was still slow, making sure you felt every ridge and vein with each stroke as he drove you into a stupor. "Will you be a good girl for your Captain now?"

"Yes, Captain."

He smirked against your skin, pleased at your compliance. He was reveling in the power he had over you. Frank had said that you never took orders without a fight, but here you were being so good for him. Pliable. Yielding. He was enjoying it.

He gathered your hair in one hand and pulled, your back arching beautifully and emphasizing where his cock was buried deep inside you. With each thrust his cock came out glistening with your slick. The image made him lose control, abruptly escalating his pace to rail feverishly into you.

He had you gasping and clutching at the sheets instantly, begging for him to go harder and push you over the edge. He bent over you and reached around to rub furiously at your throbbing clit.

"Cum like a good girl, honey. Cum around my cock," he commanded. "I wanna feel you fucking drown me."

You came, lights dancing in your eyes and your head empty of all thoughts aside from the pleasure that racked your body. He followed soon after with a loud grunt, the sensation of you fluttering around him too much to resist.

He fell on top of you, spent and satisfied. Your sweat and heavy breaths mingling together as you both tried to return back to the world. You liked the heavy feel of him on top of you, strangely finding comfort in the weight.

He dragged you with him when he rolled off you, spooning you and planting kisses on the back of your shoulders that had your skin tingling from his beard.

"When are you going to put him out of his misery?"

"When it stops being fun?" you chuckled.

Steve wasn't going to push the issue. He knew that it was up to you whether you forgave Bucky or not and when that would be. It would be on your own terms how things moved. Just like what happened between you two. He wasn't expecting it, but the heated argument about the injuries you inflicted on one of his best agents had somehow escalated into him spanking you and you growing wet from it.

Not that either of you were complaining.

You turned around in his arms to face him, looking up at him with a taunting smirk. "You sure your old heart can take being in a polyamorous relationship?"

He chuckled and pecked your lips before going back in for a much deeper kiss that had you swooning. When he pulled back, he was looking at you lovingly.

"I'm known for waiting too long about things like this. I lost my shot at you 10 years ago. I'm not missing out on you again."

His words were firm and genuine. He honestly thought that he would mind having to share you with several other men. He thought that he would feel jealous and possessive. Instead, he felt reassured. He knew that wherever and whenever he lacked, someone else would pick it up and he would be the same. There was a sense of relief knowing that you would always be taken cared of by people who felt the same for you as he did.

"Well then you have some making up to do for waiting so long," you said nibbling at his lower lip.

He groaned and grabbed your thigh, hitching your leg up on his hip. Your thighs and core were still sticky and slippery from both your releases. His tongue dove into your mouth and he could feel you moan against his lips as he ran the tip of his cock against your still sensitive core. Your nails dug into his back as he sunk in, fitting perfectly inside you.

"You're running with a super soldier now, honey," he said, eyes burning with want. "I can do this all day."

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A/N: Some asked about Jill and Kim so here you go, lovelies. Come freak out with me in the comments and reblogs. Thank you all for the support! More coming soon.

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spice-chan · 4 years ago

Text

Cure Me

King!singledad! Bakugo Katsuki x fem!reader

Prince Matsuki makes an interesting friend. he could have never foretold who she is to his father...

TW: curses, sickness

Thank you so much to @stargazingaloneatnight for sending this lovely request ! I totally got carried away though, so it’s going to have a second part.

Thanks a lot to @patt-writes-stuff and @reddriot for being amazing beta readers !!

Wordcount: 4.4 K

..........................................

At the ripe age of 18, you were married off to the woodcutter in your village.

You weren’t enthusiastic about it, but you didn’t dissent. After all, in a small village, all the people of close age were expected to marry eventually. It was either him, the farmer or the butcher. A prince isn’t going to come and sweep you off your feet.

You moved to the isolated cabin near the woods where your husband resided, and you lived there with him for a year. You wouldn’t exactly describe it as harmony, but it was peaceful enough for you to be content. He respected you and you respected him, but you yearned for something more.You yearned for love, for the overwhelming feeling that would envelope you whole, that would elicit shivers from your spine, and down to your very toes.

But you had to get those foolish fantasies out of your head; after all, your husband was now all you had. Until you didn’t have him anymore.

His body was found, squashed underneath a large tree that fell the wrong way.

Guilt and loss reigned in your mind and heart. You wondered, should you have appreciated him more ? Should you have cherished the little moments instead of wishing for something better?

It was a lonely existence for a while after that, until a red eyed, spikey haired little boy ventured to your isolated abode.

………

Loneliness was a disease that feasted on your open wounds until they were gaping holes, bleeding and gushing, but you were unable to stitch them back together. Who wants to be lonely, truly? So all Bakugo did was cover the open wounds with his hand, growling protectively as he shielded himself. And he couldn’t stitch together the hole in his chest, even when his hand was stained red as evidence of his pain.

He thought he loved her. He convinced himself he loved her. The only woman and person who seemingly managed to stand him and understand him. He tried so hard to be good to her. Tried to act better when he saw the gleam of judgement in her eyes. Only to wake up one day with a letter telling him “don’t look for me” and “I’ll be somewhere better. Away from you and that spawn. Good luck with him, though you’ll probably have enough soon and throw him somewhere far, the sound of his cries is annoying.”

Him.

She couldn’t bring herself to say her son’s name.

It’s like he was a disposable piece of trash to her. Katsuki’s teeth gnashed whenever he remembered the way she spoke of her own son, his son.

“DAD!” screamed a little boy, the carbon copy of his dad, running to his father's lap where he ducked down and hid between them.

Bakugo growled playfully, bending his back to look at the excitable little boy, who held his finger to his lips.

“What do you think you’re doing, squirt?”

“I’m hiding from Shitty Maid.”

Katsuki quirked his eyebrows at the foul language that came out of his son’s mouth, but his response never made the light of day as a flustered and heaving maid entered the dining chamber, her eyes frantically searching.

“My king, I’m so sorry ! Have you seen Prince Matsuki come here ?” she questioned breathlessly, the prince having evidently tired her out.

Bakugo clicked his teeth rather impertinently. “No, you shitty maid, I didn’t see him come here,” he replied and resumed eating, seemingly unperturbed by his son being ‘missing’.

“Sorry, Your Majesty, I’ll resume my search for him. Sorry to have disturbed you!” she exclaimed before picking her gown and scrambling out.

Bakugo stared beneath his chair pointedly, his carbon copy only giving doe eyes as a reply.

“Why are you hiding anyway?!”

Matsuki crawled out from underneath the chair and stood up, dusting his knees.

“She wants to teach me eti-etiquette or whatever,” Matsuki grumbled. “I’m going out to play with my friends.”

Etiquette? How useless. Is that what they are teaching his son?

Bakugo clapped his back, glad to see his son not be a pushover. “Don’t be late, squirt.”

“Ok, dad!” Matsuki jumped and enveloped Katsuki’s muscular frame in a hug with his tiny arms, warming Katsuki’s heart as he ruffled his son’s spiky hair.

……..

Matsuki couldn’t find his friends.

He ventured into the woods in search of them, sporting a scowl everyone should be familiar with. His tiny, handsome face scrunched slightly as he looked around the place curiously. His feet padded on, scrunching on crispy fallen leaves in their wake.

He walked for a while, marking trees as he went along to ensure he didn’t get lost, but eventually, a sugary sweet scent had his tiny legs move faster on their own accord in search of it. The closer he seemingly got, the more powerfully the mouth watering scent assaulted his nose. It smelled cozy on this chilly day, like a warm cup of milk by a warm fire as snow fell outside.

He reached a clearing. The thick, intimidating trees that loomed over him shrunk away until there was none left.

No trees, but he found a small cabin with a window cracked open.

He boldly marched up to it, his mouth set in a straight, determined line. A fisted palm knocked once, twice, and thrice on the worn out wood, to ensure that it was heard.

His nervousness set in when the handle turned and a lady emerged at the threshold. He steeled himself. His daddy told him that if he wanted something, he should work to get it.

You smiled at him warmly when you spotted him: a young, unfamiliar boy. He looked out of his element, but his strange red eyes stared at you despite how he seemed to be unused to such situations. His eyes reflected the embers of a brave soul.

“There was a nice smell coming from here,” he admitted, his tiny face scrunching into a scowl that seemed more adorable than anything.

“Well, yes, I baked cookies,” you responded mildly, your voice never too high but quite clear. The boy’s eyes widened, his red hues glistening in child-like excitement.

“Cookies?!” He jumped, and clutched your gown.

“Can I have some ?” Puppy dog eyes stared up at you, pleading and cute. You haven’t encountered a child in a long time. You stopped going to the village as often, and eventually, they stopped visiting too. Your mother died after she contracted something, her old body unable to fight it off, and your dad ran off somewhere to ‘adventure’.

“Sure.” You moved from the threshold. “Come in.” You gestured with your head to your small cottage, a humble place, but a reminder of your lonesome existence.

He brightened up considerably, his mouth twisting into a sweet smile. He would become such a handsome young man once he grew up. It made you wonder how beautiful his parents must be.

You pulled a chair for him at the table, and went to put some cookies on a plate for him.

“YUM. That’s so delicious!” He spoke between mouthfuls, some tiny crumbs flying out of his mouth in his excitement.

“Thank you, but be careful. You might choke if you speak while chewing sweetie,” you chided him lightly. Matsuki didn’t recognize this tone, it sounded equal parts stern and caring. He nodded and continued munching down.

“Would you like to drink something? I have some orange juice, and uh, water. I could make tea, but I don’t think kids your age fancy that you rambled, suddenly excited about having someone keep you company for the first time in a while.

He opened his mouth to answer, but upon remembering your words, he opted to chew for a few more seconds then swallowing his cookies before bellowing out,“Yes! Orange juice.”

How adorable.

You poured two glasses of orange juice and joined your little companion, munching on some cookies of your own. Before long, he finished all of them and leaned back on the chair, mouth letting out a sigh and hand patting his stomach as a show of overindulgence.

“Good?”

“Yup! You’re a very nice lady. Way nicer than my dummy maid,” he grumbled, you weren’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned, but one thing did grab your attention.

“Maid ?”

He nodded, slightly confused at your question.

“Don’t you have one ?” You quirked an eyebrow and looked around your tiny cottage. Did it look like you have one?

Oh God, you hoped this boy wasn’t mistaking his mother for a maid. With that in mind, you asked him, however, his face fell in sadness and the fire in his eyes dulled a little.

“I don’t have a mother. The maids always talk about how sorry they are for me. I hate it. None of them even care about me,” he spoke in a quiet voice, tearing at your heart with his down turned face.

“But at least I have my daddy,” he spoke up, brightening a little. You smiled at that, reaching towards him and ruffling his fluffy yet spikey blond hair.

“That’s good. Keep cherishing your father, at least the two of you have each other.” You wiped some crumbs from around his mouth with a napkin, speaking to the boy in a lonesome voice; unintentionally mothering him.

He smiled and nodded;unintentionally accepting.

The boy was either mistaking some people in his household for maids, or he was some rich merchant’s son. On that note—

“Did you tell anyone you’re coming here? They might be worried about you,” you asked cautiously, but then your eyes widened as a new wave of worry hit you.

“Oh my God, what if you got lost? Do you know your way back?”

You sighed in relief when he nodded, flashing you a smile with his teeth on display, one of them missing from the front, making it all the more endearing. You narrowed your eyes at him, prompting him to elaborate.

“I always come to play around here with my friends. It’s really close to home!” You oo’d. However, it was now his turn to panic. “Oh no, I forgot all about them !” He looked outside, seeing the sun shining proudly in the centre of the sky.

“I think I can still catch them,” he declared determinedly, and hopped off his seat. His tiny legs carried him to the door, his pale hand grasping the worn down doorknob, but before twisting it, he turned to you, his smile of youth gracing his face again.

“See you later, nice lad !”

.……..……

“No way! You wanted to be a pirate? But they’re so nasty!” he exclaimed, scrunching his nose at you in disgust. You shrugged, shoulders slumped.

“I thought it’d be a fun time. I found it in a book and dreamed that one day, I too can embark on an adventure and find hidden treasures,”you explained with a dreamy, yet nostalgic look in your eyes, akin to one looking back fondly at a long gone memory. It’s been nearly a year since you met the mystery child. You’ve been...noticeably happier.

His cherry red orbs made your day, along with an innocence that was very hard to maintain in these tough times, although that's probably because his toughness differs from yours.

He pouted, running a hand through his tamed locks. “Well, why can’t you?”

He stared up at you expectantly, oblivious to what he was expecting. His red orbs burwith ith the flame of innocenand and didnuldn’t dare blow it out.

“I don’t know.”

Even for his young age, he was perceptive. Bbut before he could question your downtrodden face, you stood up, coughing loudly. It went on for a few seconds, and Matsuki watched worriedly as you cupped your hand over your mouth, shoulders shaking from the force.

After you stopped, you breathed for a few seconds, face flushed and stamina depleted. But again, before he could question anything, you stood up, stretching. The sun hit your face, which looked noticeably paler, but you forced a smile anyway, and held your hand out for Matsuki to grab and follow suit.

“Let’s go inside, you wanted me to redo your hair, right ?” He grabbed your hand with renewed vigor, hopping off the wood and trekking with you back inside the cottage.

He said his maid had to slick his hair back because they had guests over and he ‘had to look more presentable’, which you internally scoffed at. His hair was amazing as it was.

You’d never seen a texture so amazing. It was soft as silk, but it appeared spikey. Like a porcupine or something, looked thorny but had a soft side?

You brought some water and wet his hair, before drying it with a towel. You could already see some results. You brought a hairbrush and began to hum softly while brushing his semi dry blond locks.

You towelled it once again, before patting him across the back. Your head felt light, and a light pain began to creep in. You probably need some water.

“THANK YOU! It was so ugly before.” He pranced about, happy that his hair no longer looked like some ‘sappy extra’. You wonder where the child got those interesting phrases. You stood up to get a glass of water, but the moment you stood up, the world swirled, spinned, and blurred. And then it all faded to black.

You hit the floor with a loud thump, and Matsuki sprung to his feet and frantically ran to your side.

His small hands grabbed your arm and shook you, his face growing warm and throat getting clogged up, before tears burst forth. They dampened your sleeves, continuously flowing like a waterfall, but you still remained almost lifeless on the floor. Matsuki was young, helpless, and alone.

And he did what any young, helpless and crying child would do.

He ran to the person he loves —his father.

……………

Bakugou heard the sound of Matsuki running before h, felt the wind, tornado like, as the doors of his room were pushed open in a manner so excitable he’d consider it rather insolent had it not been his own son.

His reprimands were stuck in his throat when he saw the flushed face and bloodshot eyes of his shis heart aching at the sight.

“What’s wongh” he asked softly, the tone rather unusual coming from him. Then again, his son coming to him crying was something very rare.oo., Matsuki took after his and and he was a very brave and strong boy. Something that Bakugou lamented about, at times. Being his carbon copy wasn’t that much of a blessing when it came to the matters of the heart.

Matsuki found his dad sitting at his desk, he ran to him and clung to his legs, crying uncontrollably.

It took Bakugou a second to overcome his awkwardness and emotional constipation. He scooped his son up and sat him on his lap, wiping his tears away.

“Hey squirt, calm down and tell me what’s wrong. If it’s someone that upset you, God help them-”

Matsuki tried to halt his hiccups, failing for a few seconds while he hugged his dad, he patted his back comfortingly.

“Dad, my friend…” he began, but his eyes watered as a fresh batch of tears threatened to burst.

“What happened to your friend, Matsuki?”

Matsuki sniffled, wiping his eyes before continuing.

“So, she’d been sick for a few weeks, but today when I visited her, she fell and wouldn’t wake up,” Matsuk explainedd, clutching into Bakugou tightly.

Bakugou hummed, nodding solemnly.

“Can you take me where your friend is?”

Matsuki nodded, but Katsuki was dubious about the nature of this pursuit. His distrustful nature was shining through.If this ‘friend’ was outside the protective barrier, then Katsuki didn’t know what to really expect. So before leaving his room, he donned his protective amber around his neck, a magical jewel chosen by his dragon when he was younger. All shifters choose an enchanted jewel to guard their existence and warn them of dangers. He made sure to pick up his son��s, looping the necklace around his neck, the jewel dangling and shining.

He needed to give his son a talk about this.

…………

They walked in the forest for a while before reaching a small, worn out looking cottage. Bakugou arched a blond eyebrow, more curious than ever. He’d think it was a ploy with more sinister intentions, luring both prince and king but… he’d never seen his son more shook up over someone, they must mean a lot to him. He couldn’t bear to delay this.

They reached the door, the wood creaking as Bakugo opened it. His ruby eyes started searching for you, and when they caught your figure on the floor, they began gleaming.

He felt the breath knocked out of him when he saw you, asleep (he hoped) like an angel with your hair looking wild but still adding to your charm like a halo. You looked so soft, so precious, and it felt like his life only began this moment when he caught sight of you.

His heartbeat was so strong, he could feel it in his very eyes, who were overwhelmed with the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He had seen plenty of beautiful women, ones he didn’t spare a second glance at, extras, unworthy of his time. But for some reason, the beauty of you rooted him in his spot and halted all rational thoughts. He was only broken out of his reverie when Matsuki shook him. He felt a rush of love, devotion, and ease like he’d never felt before. It all made sense, the sense of loneliness, of being lost when his path is clear in front of him. Of finding every potential romantic partner lukewarm at best.

“Dad. Can you help her ? I don’t want her to be sick anymore.”

And in that moment, it dawned on him.

Katsuki found his soulmate, but there’s a chance he might have already lost her.

He ran to you checking your vitals, and thankfully, everything seemed fine. He put his forehead against yours, cursing when he felt a scalding fever.

“What happened ?” He picked one of the numerous questions buzzing in his head.

“Well, she did my hair like I’d asked her, but the moment she stood up, she fell down! I tried waking her up, but she wouldn’t. She’d been coughing a lot the past few weeks too and looking tired,” Matsuki explained clearly, now comforted by having his father share the weight with him.

Katsuki looked around at the rather shabby place. Fit for a commoner. Not you.

He was baffled at having a mate. Only the most legendary, wise and favoured dragons did, the dragons that made it to history scriptures. Things no one considered him to be. Things he was succumbing to not being. Things she convinced him he wasn’t. Sure, he could fight deadly wars, bring nations down to their knees, but violence did not warrant a soulmate.

He scoop you up, closer to his chest. Heyouyou tightly, heart physically hurting at the thought of you being in pain. He just met you, what’s with him ?

He stood up, nudging his son to leave.

What a coincidence. An insane, crazy coincidence.

His son, his only blessing in this shrouded world, was what led him to the one thing nobody thought he’d have.

“Tell me more on the way.

Matsuki nodded.

……………

Bakugou laid you on his bed, surrounding you with the softest materials one could ever touch. He pulled a chair besides you, lounging on it as he waited for a healer to arrive.

You remained unconscious, but it seems like your temperature increased even more. He was so lost in his own thoughts, that he didn’t register that Matsuki walked inside the room until he was addressing him.

“Is she going to be alright ?” Bakugou didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth, then again, he didn’t have the heart to lie to him either.

“I don’t know.” Somehow saying it out loud hurts even more.

A knock on the door broke the gloominess.

“Come in.”

Hope walked in, in the shape of a short, old lady with medical equipment.

Recovery Girl inspected you, from temperature to heartbeat. And when done, she sighed.

“Everything boils down to it being a simple fever, but in that case, she wouldn’t be unconscious,” she explained ambiguously. She took one of your hands, and andr fingertips were icy cold.

She hummed contemplatively. She brought out a healing crystal, squeezing it in one fist, while she held your hand in the other. The idea was to transfer the healing energy from the crystal to you, only possible through a healing mage.

However, when nothing seemed to happen, Recovery Girl opened her fist. She found a shattered crystal.

“Oh my…”

Bakugou growled, frustration willing up and tipping over. “The fuck!”

Recovery Girl glared at him. Such language shouldn’t be used in front of a child.

“Typical healing methods aren’t going to work.”

Silence reigned over this time, willing the old lady to continue on, both his and his son’s hearts on the edge.

“I believe she’d been cursed.”

Bakugou scrunched up his eyebrows at the absurd explanation. Who’d curse you of all people ? He only just discovered your existence!

Yet for some reason, he felt like he’d rather die than let you, the one who could love him for all his flaws, the one who always brought a smile on his son’s face, suffer.

“How?” The deity up there must be very cruel, to take you away when he just met you.

“I don’t know, son. There’s a very strong, malevolent energy, enough to break a healing crystal. It’s going to make her body reject anything that could heal it,” she explained solemnly.

“If you want this young lady healthy and well, we need to take different measures to heal her. Also, do you know who cursed, or where she could have incurred it? That will be very helpful.”

Bakugou looked at Matsuki, knowing that he himself is clueless.

“This is the first time I met her. Matsuki seems to have met her a while ago in her tiny ass cottage outside the protective barrier.” She looked like she had some questions, but instead directed her attention to the little Bakugou and asked him what matters most right now.

“Do you know anyone that might’ve done this? Have you seen her interact with anyone that could possibly be capable of it?” She knew asking a child would likely be more fruitless then not, but she still wished to help you in any way she could.

Matsuki shook his head.

“I’ve never even seen her talk with anyone.” This only served to increase Bakugou’s suspensions. Could it be something to do with your affiliation with Matsuki ? And if that was the case, then there’s so many other things he must take into account too, because that would mean that there’s a traitor in their midst, or at least someone that had been tracking Matsuki for… what fucking ever reason.

He sighed, feeling an ache beginning to form in his head. He touched your arm, wanting to reassure himself that you are alive.

A gasp rang out from the occupants of the room when you opened your eyes, making them seem glowy when the sunlight reflected off them, giving you an ethereal, angelic radiance.

The air left his lungs, while blood rushed to his cheeks, making them seem ripe as apples.

“How is this possible?”

This shocked him awake, out of his reverie and into reality.

Recovery Girl glanced at the arm Bakugo was touching, humming to herself with a knowing glint in her old, wise eyes.

“Well, my king, did you forget? The oldest, most powerful magic that dragons have been gifted::soulmates.”

Bakugo blushed again, kissing his teeth and glaring at Recovery Girl.

“What are you babbling on about, old hag?”

“I believe you know.”

He glared at the ground, childishly not answering.

“Um...what’s going on?” A small, feminine voice asked. Bakugou turned to you, melting at the majestic sound of your voice.

“That’s a good question.” That brat.

Bakugou tried to stay in contact with you, afraid of making the burst of magic triggered by your bond slipping away.

“Uh, you lost unconsciousness and Matsuki asked me to help you. Oh, and apparently you were cursed.” Bakugou bluntly spits the facts at you, not thinking ahead for your reaction.

“A CURSE?” you shouted, coughing after due to hoarseness. The old hag shot Bakugou another glare, before sweetening up and looking at you.

“We’ll explain after you rest a bit and freshen up, you’d been through quite a bit.” she said, deliberately not divulging any information yet. She didn’t need to be there for the grand explanation. She’d rather not be, actually.

She stood on her weary legs, leaving the room unnoticed as you admired your surroundings, and as Bakugou admired you. Matsuki’s stare lacked the burn of fascination as he stared at his father grumpily.

“The fuck you looking at her so weird for?” Matsuki seethed. You gasped and turned to him.

“Matsuki!” He bristled in frustration, having forgotten how much you hated it when he cursed.

“Sorry. He was though!”

Bakugou, throughout the whole thing, glared at his son with blushing cheeks. He wanted to spank some respect into him so bad right now.

You turned to Bakugo, gaze weighty in the seriousness it’s burdened with.

“Thanks for helping me, I appreciate it. You’re Matsuki’s father, right? The resemblance is hard to miss. Well, I have a lot of questions, but firstly, what do you mean by cursed?”

You felt as if a rock was pressed against your chest, gloom overtaking your features as you awaited his answer. Still hopeful that it was a joke, but the ancient dark magic was not to be joked with.

“Someone cursed you. It’s the cause for your sickness, and it’s slowly sapping the life out of you. You’re only awake because uh...the magic of our bond is more powerful.” Bakugou rushed the last part, his heart beating, squeezing painfully when silence hung in the air after his not so confession.

You purse your lips, the movement catching Bakugo’s attention, drawing him to your lips. Supple, kissable lips.

“Our bond?”

Bakugo nodded.

“You’re my soulmate, it’s why—probably why Matsuki was so drawn to you.” Bakugo was looking forward to explaining more, before his door was busted open (a common occurrence these days it seems) by a panting soldier, who summoned the strength to salute stiffly.

“Your majesty, we have received a letter from Celeane Siloh.”

Well, what a great introduction to the family.

...............

Kofi

Don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this !

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

A Wife for Thor Pt.24

What She’s Done

05/19/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader Word Count: 5,590

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, Loki being the best bro, pregnancy problems

A/N: I’m sorry this is so late. I’m not going to explain too much as I want the focus to be on the chapter but I’m feeling better. Hope you all enjoy this one and I hope you can forgive me. haha As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my work on any other sites or blogs!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The sound of the fanfare outside is muted. The heavy doors of the main room are shut.

Thor sits on his large steel, silver, and wooden throne. Normally, your own throne would have been moved into the room so that you could sit beside him. Today however, he wants you standing.

Loki stands on Thor’s left, his hands moving across his tablet at godly speeds. He’s busy. Always busy. While Thor has the final say, Loki sets everything up for him and comes to him with the choices that must be made.

He’s indispensable and both you and Thor know it. So, when the large doors are thrown open and Thor takes his hand off of your lower waist where he’d been massaging the knots away, as Ambassador Coates walks forward, you glare right at him and his judging distrustful look at the sight of Asgard’s Prince.

The music outside, large horns that sound more like a call to battle, slowly die and are completely cut off when the doors are shut. Just outside you know two Valkyrie are standing guard.

Inside, two more regular guards stand at attention.

“Ambassador Coates, I’m glad you saw fit to accept my invitation,” Thor says casually.

One wouldn’t know that Thor is angry. He sounds so welcoming. The charm he’s exuding is one you’ve never seen him use before but Loki doesn’t seem surprised by it. Instead, Loki’s lips seem to curve upwards a little in the teeniest smirk.

The Ambassador does as he’s expected and once he’s near the foot of the raised wooden floor where Thor’s throne sits, he gives a quick bow meeting first Thor’s singular eye and then your own blank gaze.

Keeping your anger in check is easy. You’re able to wipe your face of all emotion and it’s a skill now that you’re glad you learned in the orphanage you’d grown up in. Never letting anyone know how sad or hurt you are was key to your survival.

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador states, the irritation in his voice loud and clear for all of you to hear.

It looks like Thor’s plan to roll out the red carpet as if the ambassador were visiting royalty got his message across clearly.

“I hope I find you in good health? Are you faring well with the pregnancy?”

You don’t answer him. You simply stare.

“We’re well enough,” Thor begins. “Forgive me in my haste to get to the point, Ambassador Coates but as I hear it from my brother, you have been making it very difficult for Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard to meet with you, despite her warnings that what she had to share was imperative to the safety of Earth and human-kind.”

The ambassador blinks. He doesn’t attempt to speak or react in any other way than to show that he’s processing Thor’s words. All signs of irritation at his welcome gone.

“Would you say that is a fair statement for her having sent, what was it? Four emails and three phone calls?” Thor asks Loki.

“Seven emails and four phone calls,” he corrects.

“Right. Seven and four.”

“Your Majesty…”

“I think you have been under the impression that my marriage to my wife has been one in name only. She’s Queen but not really? Right? She has no power or authority? Is that what you think?”

Ambassador Coates swallows hard, sweat beading along his temples. He’s not a stout man. In fact, most women would think him good looking. Nothing to Thor or Loki, but for a human he’s handsome. His sweating in this climate makes no sense unless he’s suddenly stressed.

Maybe you shouldn’t feel bad but you do just a bit. You can’t imagine what he must feel being scrutinized by Thor, yourself, and Loki. Clearly he did something wrong and now he knows it.

“Your Majesties, I-I meant no offense. Unfortunately this is a busy time for myself and my colleagues and-”

“We have no time for your excuses,” Thor sits up straighter and draws his legs a little closer together before he licks his lips and holds his hand out towards you.

Taking it, you watch him get up and then he helps you sit before checking on you, “Better, cherub?”

You nod, looking up at him as he caresses the side of your head.

“The only reason you hold the job that you currently do is because my people and I chose to settle on Earth. You might say you owe it to us. Perhaps you’d still have been employed should we not have come here but from what I understand, your salary is considerably more than what it would have been were you in some other position.

“You are married and have children, too. Don’t you?” Thor asks.

“Y-Yes, Your Majesty.”

“So, it’s important to keep your job. Isn’t it?”

He says nothing, this time simply looking down at Thor’s feet.

“My wife is not just Queen in name but she has been exemplary in her devotion of ruling the people of Asgard at my side with honor and grace. The people love her. I’m not sure what made you think you could slight an Asgardian Queen but let me be clear. If our people should find out that there was such disrespect, believe me when I tell you that the loss of your job would be the last thing you’d have to worry about.”

“And just to be clear,” Loki cuts in as Thor’s taking a breath. “My brother is not threatening you. This is a statement of fact. We Asgardians are fiercely loyal and easily offended.”

You like that Ambassador Coates isn’t glaring at Loki anymore. The fear in his eyes is worrying, but you also know that your husband and brother would do nothing to actually hurt this idiot. They’re just making sure he knows where he stands.

Thor crosses his large arms across his wide chest. Though you don’t think he means it to be intimidating, you can see from the ambassador’s gulp that Thor’s minor flex has great impact.

Gods, he’s huge.

“As it just so happens, aside from being a Queen without fault to this kingdom, the Queen of Asgard has seen fit to continue to perform in her duties as the bridge between our two peoples. She refuses to let us make decisions for the human race and was attempting to contact you to warn you of impending dangers. And you, what was the phrase, love?”

“Blew me off.”

“That’s right, you blew her off. And yet we welcome you with respect and grace.”

“Your Majesties,” the ambassador begins, but Thor holds up his hand and he stops.

“Let this be a lesson in humility for you. I love Earth and for that reason alone, in addition to the fact that this is my wife’s home and now mine, we will forgive this lapse of judgement on your part,” you’ve never heard Thor sound more like a King than in this moment.

It’s also one of those moments where you really want to drag him back to the room and get him naked. He’s never been this attractive.

The ambassador bows his head, taking his punishment with dignity.

“Forgive me, your Majesties,” he begins to say something, but then stops himself.

“Speak your mind, Ambassador Coates,” Loki urges, seeing something you and Thor don’t.

“I merely wish to apologize for my lack of forethought. I was not the only one dismissing Her Majesty the Queen of Asgard but will be sure to rectify the behavior with my colleagues when I return.”

Loki smiles, turning his gentle gaze on you as he realizes that you were right. It wasn’t misogyny. Not on Ambassador Coates’s part. That might not be the case for everyone though.

“Perhaps I should schedule meetings with your colleagues so that we might have a quick talk about the expectations we have for our relationship going forward?”

Loki’s threat is veiled heavily, but Ambassador Coates still picks up on it and his face goes a little pale.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, Your Highness. I will pass along the sentiments, if you will let me.”

There’s a burning satisfaction in your chest. Something about watching Ambassador Coates finally show not just you but Loki the respect he deserves makes you so happy.

“My Queen?” Loki prompts you, looking to you to wait for your reply.

“I think we can give him a chance to express our disappointment for us. He is our ambassador. Isn’t that right Ambassador Coates?”

Coates looks relieved, pressing his hand to his chest as he bows his head to you again.

It’s a strange sensation to see the gratitude on his face and his posture relaxes as a result. You literally just did that. You gave him some forgiveness and it really does make all the difference.

“I will support you and the Asgardian throne with more fervor from here on out, Your Majesty.”

“Cool,” you shrug, reaching to place your hand on the back of Thor’s neck, absolutely beaming at him.

He chuckles and puts his hand back on your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze and shake.

“Are you happy, my cherub?”

You nod, unable to contain the smile that stretches across your lips and you lean into him.

“Good. My job here is done then. Now, I have some things to do,” Thor rises and moves around until he’s facing you and pulls you up into a chaste but loving kiss.

With a caress to your belly, he looks at Loki and nods.

“I’ll leave the rest to you and my Queen, brother.”

“Sif will meet you by the docks,” Loki nods.

“Wonderful. I’ll see you later, love. If you need me, just tell Loki and I will come running.”

“‘Kay,” you smile.

Thor turns back to your guest and moves towards him, clapping his shoulder as he passes, “Do better, Ambassador Coates. Do better.”

All three of you watch Thor strut for the large front doors. The guard opens it for him and when he’s out of sight, the doors shutting behind him, you move to take your seat on the throne. Loki scoots a little closer to your side but stands with his tablet ready.

“Now, I think we should get down to the reason I wanted to meet with you,” you start and Ambassador Coates stands a little straighter. “But...I don’t know about you but this whole towering over you sitting on a throne thing is not really my style and feels a little forced. Let’s go to my sitting room.”

Loki smirks as Ambassador Coates relaxes a little more and even smiles, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

As the three of you walk up the steps to the right of the throne room to climb up to the small sitting room that had been set aside for you and your private entertaining, you steal a few glances at Ambassador Coates.

He still looks a little rattled and you stroke your stomach, the long silk dress you’re wearing, ruffled skirt and loose waist giving it a soft flowing quality is still noticeable and Ambassador Coates steals a few glances.

“Didn’t think I was really pregnant?”

He blanches, “What? N-No, Your Majesty! I had no reason to doubt you.”

“It’s okay. A lot of people didn’t believe it until I came back from my little vacation. I just wanted to make sure that it would take. We’re all so dependent on this little one and a lot is riding on my having Thor’s heir quickly.”

“No one who has seen you rule since your marriage would doubt your commitment to this union, Y/N,” Loki assures you gently.

He’s your number one supporter and you’re so damn grateful for him.

All three of you fall into silence but with your heavy belly and your slow walk, it stretches on.

“I’m sorry about Thor’s enthusiasm to put you in your place,” you give Coates a small apologetic smile but he quickly shakes his head. “He can be a little passionate.”

“No, Your Majesty, the mistake was mine. I should have paid you the respect you deserved. It’s-You work in an environment for too long and you begin to adopt certain behaviors that you should know aren’t acceptable but when everyone is doing it and-I was wrong. I can’t blame Thor for setting me straight.”

“Thank you, for understanding,” you shrug.

“Thank you for not holding it against me and letting me do better.”

It takes only another few minutes to reach the sitting room and you make a beeline for the small loveseat before dropping into it and leaning back against the soft plush cushions.

“Whew, I probably should have done my research on how pregnancy would affect all aspects of my life before agreeing to it,” a joke and Coates gets it because he looks respectfully amused.

Loki scoffs, “With Thor, I doubt you’d have had much choice in the matter. He is also believed to be a God of fertility, you know?”

“Loki!”

The small shock on your face really makes Coates laugh this time and your neck, ears, and cheeks burn.

Not wanting to drag this meeting out for a long time you clear your throat and Loki sits down on the armchair beside you opposite Coates’s own seat.

“I should really be more formal, but I’m not kidding when I tell you that this pregnancy is taking a toll on me.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Majesty,” Coates assures you.

“I’m not sure what you’ll be able to do with this information and maybe it’ll be best if, with your help, you can get a meeting in front of both the United Nations and NATO scheduled for me to speak to them directly.

“Thor and Loki would be there with me, of course, but it was my idea to even bring this to your attention.”

“I will be of any assistance that I can be,” Coates nods, face serious and attentive.

“We wanted to wait until we had more concrete information to give Earth’s leaders but our Queen is adamant that an early warning is better than detailed information,” Loki explains.

“Is the Earth in danger?” Coates asks, worried now.

“Sort of,” you nod. “Truth is, we don’t know. What we do know is that there’s an energy signature that we’ve been monitoring for months. Almost my entire first year of marriage. What we do know is that the energy signal was strong enough to bring Doctor Foster here to look for an explanation and my brother-in-law has kept his eye on it too. It’s familiar to him and not unthreatening so we’ve been preparing watch stations across the globe. We have one in North and South America, Australia, almost every continent so that we won’t miss any kind of danger that comes falling from the sky.

“We don’t want a repeat of New York,” you look at Loki and Coates looks at him too but neither of you have any kind of judgement in your expressions.

Maybe a little for Coates, but he quickly turns his gaze back on you.

“I wanted to give the people of Earth time to prepare for that kind of attack. The Avengers are already on the case and have been helping build up a defense but they can only do so much. Their focus is going to be on the bigger fight if it comes to that. I want to give us a fighting chance on the ground where regular people are often the ones to get hurt and suffer from big threats like this.

“I don’t want the casualties to look like they have in the past when something or someone threatens us. So, I just want to give world leaders a briefing on what we’ve found, what we’ve built in defense, and give them the resources to keep track of what we’re keeping track of.

“We’re at a unique advantage with not only Asgard’s knowledge, technology, and resources. We’re still a growing nation and what we do have is lots of strength. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and while the Valkyrie have to stay here to protect my family, we have a sizable guard that can be split into a few regiments to send out to the places that will need it most and still have enough forces to protect New Asgard.”

Coates is thinking hard, then his hand dives into his pocket and he pulls out his phone, “I’ll start making calls and can probably have something set up the day after tomorrow. If the threat is serious enough to make you worry about us humans this much, I think the sooner the better.”

“It is serious enough,” Loki assures him. “Even if it turns into nothing, we would all rather have done everything we could to minimize damage to both the humans of Earth and New Asgard.”

“Then I’ll get started. Is there any kind of data that I should see in order to convince my bosses?”

You look to Loki and reach out, placing your hand on his arm, “Loki, take Ambassador Coates down to the dungeon and let him get a look at anything we’ve gathered in the monitoring station. You’ll forgive me for not coming with you, Ambassador Coates? I really can’t stand walking around much longer today.”

“Of course, please do not mind me,” he assures you, giving you a small bow.

“Shall I have your lunch brought in here?” Loki asks.

“Please?”

He nods and with a gesture at Ambassador Coates, leads the way to the door.

“When you’ve made any significant progress, I will be in here. Can you come and let me know?”

Coates nods, the phone now pressed to his ear, “As soon as I know something, Your Majesty.”

They leave you in an appropriate rush and you relax against the cushions of your sofa feeling like a small burden’s been lifting off your shoulders.

You’ve done your part now. You’ve warned your Ambassador, now it’s his job to convince his higher-ups and hopefully they listen.

Estrid does eventually come with your lunch and you eat slowly, thinking through your options for Coates and the rest of the governments of the world. Splitting the Asgardian army up isn’t ideal, but they pack a punch. Even just a handful of soldiers in a city would make a difference.

You finish eating and you finish your tea. You get up to walk a little around the sitting room but as the afternoon wears on, you start to feel suffocated inside and Estrid happily goes with you down to your gardens.

Most of your plants have been well taken care of.

“His Majesty made sure that we kept all of your plants healthy for you,” Estrid informs you, moving to walk a few steps behind you as you walk around with a small watering can.

His consideration brings a smile to your lips.

Thor really can be so sweet. So loving. You hate that some of the time from your first year was stolen by what happened with Jane, but it couldn’t be helped. He had to discover what it would mean to lose you and you had to learn that depending on yourself is still just as important married as it was when you had no one.

Maybe it’s even more important now? You can get lost in your relationship with Thor and while that’s super tempting, to have your world start and end with Thor and your married life together, you are still your own person.

You have goals for your career and shared dreams with him too. You’ve got your hobbies and Thor has his. Both of you needed the distance.

Despite that, even though you know that the space was good for both of you, even if it hurt like hell to get it the way you two did, you’re actually really happy to be back home.

As you reach over to water one of your taller butterfly bushes, you gasp and pull your arm back against your body as a small sharp pain rocks your senses and blinds your vision for a split second.

“Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries forward.

“I’m fine, Estrid,” you assure her, waiting another second to see if the pain will come back.

Reaching down you rub the spot on your tummy where you’d felt it and wonder if maybe the baby is just kicking especially hard today.

“Shall I fetch the doctors?”

“No, really. I’m fine, Estrid.”

You move to the next plant and water a few more as you head towards the small greenhouse with the Asgardian plants you’re still trying to perfect the care for but as you reach for the door, you double over as a shooting pain stretches across the same side as before then moves down onto the base of your belly.

The watering can falls from your hand as you reach out to brace yourself against the door and hits the floor with a clunk as the water goes all over your flats, soaking your feet.

“Your Majesty!”

Estrid races to you, hands placed on your back and arm to support you as she looks to steal a glance at your face.

With your eyes shut tight, you groan and whimper as the pain just gets sharper.

“Estrid…” it takes a moment to catch your breath. “Get the doctors.”

“Guard!” Estrid calls, forcing you to let go of the door so that she can lead you to a bench. “Guard, send for the doctor!”

“Thor,” you whimper, sitting slowly and gasping as the pain intensifies. “Get Thor.”

“I’ll send for him, my Queen,” Estrid assures you and now that you’re seated, she leaves you to run and hurry the guard.

“What’s wrong?”

“Loki?” you call breathlessly, searching for his face for the comfort you know it’ll give you to have him close.

“Here,” he calls out for you and hurries around the corner. “I’m here. What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

He hovers over you, leaning over, his hands carefully pressed to your cheek and the other on your stomach.

“It hurts,” you sob without tears, “Loki…”

“It’s alright,” he promises. “You and my nephew will be fine. Come on, put your arm around my neck.”

His certainty does help and you get your arm around him. With ease he squats down and lifts you into his arms and with you moves back into the palace.

~~~~~~~~~~

It feels like a long time when you open your eyes again. You’re dizzy a little and weak. Your body feels heavy and it’s a struggle to sit up.

Looking around, you realize you’re in your bedroom alone. The sky outside is dark and the room is dim with only the fireplace lit to cast a warm orange glow around the dark room.

“Loki?” you try, remembering him carrying you when he found you in the garden.

No movement.

“Thor? Estrid?” You’d sent her to get the doctors and to get Thor. Had the doctors come?

Thor’s favorite armchair is placed by your bed, angled towards you so he must have been in here sitting by you waiting for you to wake up.

With a heavy sigh, you realize that he must have been out of his mind with worry when he heard what happened. Is the baby okay?

You put your hands on your tummy and wait for movement. He does wiggle around a little. Normal for you and him and that makes you feel better about the pain that had come out of nowhere.

It takes you too long to get up and out of bed. You’re in your nightgown, a long simple piece with modern touches but it’s also very similar to some of the long flowing white ones you remember seeing in history books.

Taking extra time to stretch up onto your feet just in case the pain comes back, you breathe a sigh of relief when you take your first step and find that you’re okay.

“Oh, baby,” you reach down and rub the sides of your bump. “You scared me, rascal.”

You know that you should probably stay still. Staying in bed is probably what your Doctors suggested but the empty chair has you worried about Thor and what state he might be in.

So instead of staying where you should, you open your bedroom door and step out into the hallway.

The spots to either side where there’s usually a guard are empty.

You look up towards the other end of the hall and see that the two soldiers have moved to stand at the center of the hall, shoulders tense and obviously distracted. Further down, at what you think they must be staring at is a grouping of palace staff. People you recognize. Estrid stands among them, frowning at the small crack in the door through which pours a line of bright white light from the sitting room you share with Thor.

Did something happen?

As you pass the two guards the jump and hurry back to the sides of your bedroom door where they belong. Their flurry of movement must have drawn the attention of the others standing by the door. They also seem to jump, look shamed and worried, before they move away from the door and head in all different directions to get back to work.

One of the maids that passes you curtsies before she scurries off stealing a look of regret at you.

Estrid stands rigid, hands clasped to her front before she steps back a bit to give you room.

“What is it, Estrid?”

She doesn’t say anything. She looks upset, her lips fixed into a severe line, eyes full of anger as she shakes her head.

“Where’s Loki? Thor?” you check, stopping by her and she only looks at the door.

You can hear muted voices from inside and your heart begins to pound.

Is it the doctors? Are Thor and Loki getting bad news? The baby was just moving though!

Your baby has to be okay. Healthy even. Nothing was wrong before you came back home.

Clinging to your bump, you move towards the crack in the door and with the breath leaving your lungs in fear of what you’ll overhear you just go ahead and push the door open because eavesdropping hasn’t served you well in the past.

If something needs to be said, you want to hear it without hiding.

Of course, what you aren’t expecting to find is Loki facing you by the long sofa where Thor usually lounges, resting his head on your lap. Behind Loki, what must have given him that frustrated look on his face is Thor, Jane clinging to his arm as she finishes speaking the thought you just interrupted as they all turn to look at you.

“-can’t help it. I love you. I-”

The absolute fury that engulfs you is indescribable.

For one year-long second, you inhale and a million thoughts cross your mind. The one you grasp onto, in favor of the ones involving murder and hurt and violence, is the one of your baby.

This kind of anger is bad for him. You can’t let it consume you. Not when you need to stay good for him.

Loki looks down at his feet, disappointment and shame overcoming his pale, handsome features.

Thor quickly jerks his hand out of Jane’s grip and moves towards you but stops when you speak only a few feet away.

“Jane?”

She swallows hard, then frowns, “I only came to warn Thor that the readings have gotten stronger. I-”

“I don’t care why you’re here. I only care that you are here. You aren’t welcome in my house, near my husband, or on any piece of land in this Kingdom,” you take a step towards them and stop as you stroke your belly to remind you to keep calm. “I want you gone. Out of my home, away from my people, and if you trespass here again, I’ll have you thrown in jail. You aren’t welcome in New Asgard.”

“You can’t ban me from an entire Kingdom,” she argues, moving forward towards you.

“Try me,” you warn. “Out of respect for what you meant to Thor in the past, I’ve kept your name clean. I haven’t told anyone what you tried to do here, but here you are trying again. Now either you want me to trash you, or you seriously can’t take a hint.

“We don’t want you here.”

“Thor invited me himself, if he didn’t want me here, why would he do that?”

You grind your teeth, again stroking your tummy, “You’re right. I don’t know why my husband would invite you here when I have made it very clear that you aren’t welcome. Whatever the reason, he and I will discuss it together, because we’re married. Husband and wife. Until the day I die, at least, since he’ll outlive me by two thousand years.

“And whatever you two had in the past is gone. So, get out or I’ll have you thrown out.”

She opens her mouth to argue and you take two steps towards her, “I might be pregnant, but I can still do plenty of damage in the minute that it’ll take Thor and Loki to pull me off of you. Please, say something. Please, please I beg you. Give me an excuse. I have a really bad temper and I am dying to express myself. Please.”

Jane turns towards Thor, waiting for some kind of rebuttal from him but he’s got his eyes trained on you and you alone. The shame on his face, the agony of what you finding them all here might mean is not lost on him.

When he doesn’t say anything, Loki clears his throat, “I think it’s time to go, Jane.”

His urging helps and with a look of hurt and disbelief, she tears her eyes off of Thor and stomps out past you.

You watch her go, Estrid scurrying after her to lead her out the back instead of the front where she might be spotted.

“Loki?”

He turns to you, waiting.

“I don’t want anyone to know she was here. Anyone other than the group of palace staff that was standing by the door fucking listening to what was being said in here. Can you get Heimdall and send her home that way?”

“I’m on it,” he assures you and hurries past you, disappearing into the palace.

“I-” Thor begins.

“Don’t!”

He shuts his mouth.

“Not here.”

Turning, you lead the way back to the bedroom and the guard opens the door for you, Thor following closely behind.

As the door shuts you don’t stop until you’re sitting on your bed, hands stroking your belly as you shut your eyes and try to calm yourself.

“I asked you for one thing. One thing, Thor. I asked you not to make a fool of me. Seven people from our staff were listening to you and Jane. Seven! By tomorrow that’ll be twenty and by the weekend the tabloids will have picked up on the story.”

“I’m sorry,” he starts but you growl in frustration.

“I stood in front of our people and told them that Jane Foster was not welcome in our Kingdom and you walked her right in! I-I can’t do this. I can’t do this right now.”

You get up and point at the large doors.

“I need you to get out. I need space and I don’t care why you let her in. I don’t care why you’d make me look like such a stupid fucking joke I only know that you did and I’m done. I need you out. Don’t come looking for me. When I’m ready, if I’m ever ready to talk to you again, I’ll find you. Until then, leave me alone.”

“Cherub-”

“NO! You don’t get to do this shit, Thor-You don’t get to undermine me and bring that woman back into our lives and still get to explain yourself after she lied to you about being pregnant, and making a mockery of our marriage. You don’t get a say. You get out of my room, you keep away from me, you wait until I’m ready to hear you. Until I’m not angry anymore. Until I’m not hurting anymore.

“I don’t understand what it is about this woman that you just-can’t you see what she is? What she’s done? Don’t you understand why she can’t be here? Don’t you get-You know what? Just get out. I don’t care. I don’t care if you get it or not. Get out.”

“Y/N, please, I-”

“GET OUT!”

The silence that follows your outburst is interrupted only by the crackling of the fire. In the dim light, Thor’s face is grave and broken. You can’t feel bad for him though.

As much as you love him, as much as you wish this hadn’t just happened, as much as you hate to see him hurt, you can’t ignore the pain in your own chest, drowning you again in betrayal.

This is why you’d wanted to keep your distance. This agony is why you’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length.

This is why you can only depend on yourself.

Eventually, Thor bows his head and with heavy feet, he leaves your room shutting the door behind him leaving you to sob and throw pillows in anger.

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #a wife for thor #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #thor x you #a wife for thor pt24

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siswritesyanderes · 4 years ago

Note

Ok but yandere carlise x reader x yandere esme

(Not as detailed as I’d hoped to make it, but I quickly realized that if I went into detail then this thing would become very long. Hopefully avoided making the characters too OOC. Let me know if you like it, and how I did!)

…

You first met Dr. Cullen when you spent the day volunteering at the local hospital for one of your college classes.

There was a whole group of students there to help out, and you honestly weren’t sure why he seemed to notice you in particular; it certainly wasn’t because you were doing such a great job. Your work speed, in restocking the closets, was roughly average, and you kept having to ask your fellow volunteers where things were supposed to go. Granted, you at least weren’t one of the students who was transparently doing the absolute bare minimum to get the credit, but you wouldn’t exactly consider yourself a shining star of competence either.

Still, Dr. Cullen approached you personally to say, “Thank you for your help. You’re really doing us a great service.”

He was a beautiful man, with warm eyes that seemed to be beholding the goodness in your soul, for how amiably they glimmered.

“I don’t know if I can take any credit,” you said, admittedly flustered by the attention. “It was our teacher’s idea.”

He smiled kindly. “Nevertheless, we’re glad to have you here.”

You smiled back. “Glad to be here.” Then you continued working.

When Carlisle walked away from you, he carefully kept the reluctance from showing in his expression. He sent Esme a quick text warning her that they might have another soulmate in town: a human. His initial thought was that this would be the end of it; so long as Esme avoided meeting you, she wouldn’t feel the awful desperation currently clawing its way up Carlisle’s throat, and so long as Esme wasn’t suffering, Carlisle was confident in his own ability to let you live your own life, just as he had done with Esme, at first…

But then, he knew how that had turned out for her: years of pain, mistreatment…The thought of anything of the sort befalling you…The world was so dangerous, between humans and vampires and other such things, and you, so small in comparison, so vulnerable…

Carlisle regained his composure (though, to the untrained eye, he hadn’t lost it in the first place). The world could be dangerous, yes, but his awareness of that fact was informed, in no small part, by the fact that he wanted justification for keeping you. And he couldn’t give himself such license; it wouldn’t be right.

He wouldn’t drag you away from your human life.

Perhaps he could keep watch over you, and do you small favors every now and then, but that was the most he could afford to indulge.

He heard your stomach growl from across the room; he detoured to a vending machine and bought you a light snack. (Perfectly timed, Alice texted him your preference. No doubt, she was scouring the future to see how you might fit into it; he would have to have a talk with her, to be sure she didn’t go overboard. And deciding to have a talk with Alice functioned in the same way having a talk with Alice did.)

Dr. Cullen handed you a snack from the vending machine, which puzzled you at first; it didn’t seem like the hospital was handing out food to anyone else, and even if they were, why would one of the doctors take the time for such a thing?

He answered your unspoken question with a polite smile and the words, “You were looking a bit faint; I thought you might need this.”

Had you been looking unwell? You didn’t think you felt that bad, but a doctor would recognize the signs if something was wrong, and you were pretty hungry. “Thanks,” you said, and he dipped his head in your direction. Then he and his kind smile departed.

That wasn’t the last time you met Dr. Cullen.

Your paths crossed in all sorts of places: in the grocery store, he tapped you on the shoulder once to ask if you’d dropped a hundred dollar bill, and he urged you to keep it even once you’d told him it wasn’t yours; you saw him in your school’s science building, one day (He was there to speak to one of the professors, and he asked you if you had drunk any water recently.); and you even ran into him at the library. All incidents spaced out over weeks; not close enough together to really be coincidences worth thinking about. You figured that you had probably crossed paths just as much before meeting him, but only noticed now because you knew who he was.

Anyway, the two of you remained acquaintances. He was a nice man.

When someone slammed into your car, a few months later, he was the doctor who cared for you.

“A hit and run?” he murmured, tutting in displeasure as he moved a light across your eyes. “People should be more considerate, and careful with other people’s lives. You could have been seriously hurt.”

“They probably just made a mistake and were scared of the consequences,” you offered, because the doctor genuinely seemed somewhat upset. You were trying to assume the best about the other driver, because the alternative was getting angry about something you couldn’t change. You had barely even seen the car that had hit you. You just knew that it was some shade of yellow, and apparently much stronger than yours. “I wish we’d gotten to trade insurance information or something, though; my car is apparently totaled.” Despite your best efforts, your voice wavered.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dr. Cullen said, and you were probably delirious, but something about the decisive way he said it made it seem, to you, as if he himself planned on helping you get your car fixed. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

You did.

“Have you...” The doctor seemed to choose his words carefully. “Have you called anyone, to let them know what happened, and that you’re alright?”

“No, I guess I haven’t. The ambulance got there so fast, I guess I didn’t have time to think about it.” You weren’t terribly concerned, though; if your relatives hadn’t been made aware of the crash, then they didn’t know to be worried yet. No need to call them now.

Dr. Cullen stilled at your words, though; the light in his hands shone in the spot between your eyes and did not move. It was as if he was deep in thought. No, as if he were at war with himself.

“Dr. Cullen?” you prompted.

He quickly smiled, setting down the light. “I think you should call them. Now, if you can. I would...just feel better if someone knew where you are, and that you’re alive.”

You called them (as awkward as that felt with the doctor right there in the room, patiently waiting), and Dr. Cullen seemed to relax.

Once you were released from the hospital, you went back to only seeing him every once in a while, around town.

Your car was mended seemingly overnight, under mysterious circumstances, and a part of you jokingly wondered if Dr. Cullen was some sort of fairy godmother, or guardian angel.

Then, another month after your accident, a stranger approached you while you were walking back from your last class of the evening.

“Hi,” the stranger greeted you, somewhat apologetically. She was shorter than you, with a lovely face and spiky black hair and a spritely disposition. “I’m Alice. I’m so sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry something to my car? It’s getting late, and I really don’t want to be here after dark.”

“Oh, sure,” you answered, feeling so at ease that you forgot every warning that would normally flood to your mind about the danger of following a stranger to her car. So at ease that your mind somehow just failed to observe the taller guy standing right next to Alice, well in your field of vision. You saw him, but you didn’t really think much of him.

You followed Alice to a bright yellow Porsche, and the shade of yellow stirred something in your memory, but you couldn’t say what; you were too busy looking for what you were supposed to be helping her lift.

A lovely woman with a long blond ponytail leaned against the car trunk, staring at something that she was holding in her hand, and there was a figure sitting inside the car, too; you couldn’t see them through the tinted windows, but you saw enough to be confused as to why you had been called here to help when it seemed Alice had many potential helpers, here.

Your panic, as you began to realize the ruse, had only just begun to climb when the blond woman suddenly moved, swift as a bird, behind you, and there was a hand over your mouth and a feeling like a pinch in the side of your neck.

The thing she was holding. It was a syringe.

The tall guy (the one you hadn’t thought much of, at first) moved to open the nearest door of the Porsche; he moved the passenger seat forward, to access the back row of seats.

“Wait, stop,” you slurred against the hand (the stunningly cold hand) over your mouth, as the woman who had syringed you began to maneuver you into the Porsche with surprising strength. You were already losing control of your limbs.

“This is officially the worst thing I’ve ever done,” the woman griped as she slid you carefully inside, then climbed in behind you. You were sandwiched between her and the person you’d seen through the tinted windows: a sulking young man with bronze hair. Four strangers total, and you were in the back seat of their car.

“Thank you, Rosalie, for your help,” Alice said resolutely. “Will you drive, Jazz?”

The tall one nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat while Alice occupied the passenger side.

You struggled to find your voice, or your fists, through the haze of sedative.

“It’s okay,” said the sulking young man at your side, in a surprisingly gentle voice. “I’m able to hear you, even if you can’t speak. I can read minds.”

“The human is still awake?” Rosalie said.

“Not for much longer, but yes. You have time to apologize.”

“Sorry about all this,” Rosalie said, gently nudging your mouth closed (as it had fallen open). “Don’t be scared; we just…have to bring you to Carlisle and Esme. They’re pretty great people, and they’ll treat you really well. And these guys were going to do it anyway, so I had to come and make sure things went smoothly. Alice and Jasper can’t even administer a shot; they probably would have chloroformed you or something-”

“Wouldn’t’ve had to,” said the tall guy in the driver’s seat- Jasper, apparently. “Could’ve just lightly flicked the back of their head at the right angle. Provided Alice checked the future to make sure we did it right.”

“…and didn’t cause a concussion, or worse,” the bronze-haired one deadpanned.

There was a brief silence. You were sinking against the self-proclaimed mind reader, unable to support your own weight. You were about to sleep. You actually wanted to sleep.

“Don’t worry, Rose,” Jasper added. “I’ve made sure the human isn’t afraid.”

You supposed you weren’t. Why weren’t you?

You fell asleep before you could figure it out.

…

You awoke to the sound of agitated voices, outside the (closed) door of a bedroom that was not your own.

You were in a bed, and it was obscenely soft and pleasant, but it wasn’t yours, and you weren’t home.

Where am I?

You felt weak, and tired. Heavy, confused. But you had to stay awake, and regain your wits, because you had been taken somewhere, and you didn’t know where or why. There was a window across the room. It was nighttime outside the window. Maybe if you could make it over there, you could climb out and run for it, but you didn’t yet have the strength to even get the bedcovers off of you.

“Because it’s been awful to watch how badly it affects you to be away from your mate,” one of the voices outside the door was saying. “All five of us agreed, and we never agree on anything!”

“And it’s not like it wouldn’t have happened eventually,” another voice agreed. “Just like with Esme.”

“Exactly! You were only prolonging your own suffering, for no reason.”

There was a sigh, and a familiar voice said, “Are you all finished?” It was Dr. Cullen; that much you knew, even though you had never heard him sound so tired.

“We did it for you, because you deserve happiness.”

“And now that Esme has seen them, there is no way to undo it, is there?” Dr. Cullen asked rhetorically. “Edward, is the human awake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bring some food up, Carlisle,” an entirely new voice suggested. “The children have been…underhanded, today, but there’s no reason we shouldn’t make the best of it.”

“It was for the best.” (Your head was clear enough, now, that you recognized this unabashed voice as belonging to Alice.) “You’ll see.”

Footsteps approached the door, and shortly a woman entered the room. She was soft-looking, with caramel brown hair, and she held a dinner plate in her hands.

“Good evening,” she said, soberly. Sitting on the edge of your bed while you struggled to sit up. “I’m so sorry the kids did this; we didn’t ask them to, but they thought they were doing us a service. I’m Esme Cullen, Dr. Cullen’s wife. Here: eat something.”

You ate a forkful of pasta only because it was too close to your mouth to refuse. “Why ‘m I here?” you asked hoarsely. “Take me home.” Another forkful slid into your mouth.

“I’m very sorry,” Esme said. “I’m so, so sorry, but you see…the trouble is…” Her eyes scanned over you, and she smiled a seemingly involuntary smile and didn’t finish her sentence. As if looking at you was simply a much better use of her time.

“I want to go home,” you said.

Esme sighed, pressing her lips together contritely. “The trouble is, I can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to Carlisle, and Carlisle can’t bear to relinquish someone who is so important to me. I promise you, though, we will make it up to you.” She fed you more pasta.

It tasted delicious, but that did nothing to assuage your terror. “You don’t even know me. What do you mean, I’m important to you?”

Esme clicked her tongue softly and rhythmically against the roof of her mouth, as if to soothe. “Carlisle can explain that better than I. But rest assured, everything is going to be alright.”

Your skin crawled, at the dissonant cordiality. “Where is Dr. Cullen?”

You heard a flutter of what could have been footsteps, if people were capable of moving that fast. Then, the bedroom door opened again and Dr. Cullen entered.

“Hello again, dear heart,” he greeted you, and his demeanor was about the same as it was in public, or in the hospital. Respectful, polite. Maybe just a bit...off. Too much of something, maybe too polite and kind for the circumstances. “I’m terribly sorry about all of this.”

The apologies were making this worse. “You don’t have to be sorry,” you said. “Just please take me home.”

“I can’t do that, angel,” he sighed. He did appear sorry, but not as sorry as he should have. “But I can explain everything to you now.”

He sat down on the other side of the bed, opposite Esme, who was still feeding you. And he did explain everything, in such expansive detail that you fell back asleep before he even got to the part about mates.

…

“You can pretend with them, but not with me.” The voice was quiet, and not so much accusatory (despite the pointedness of his words) as reminding.

“I know that, son.” Dr. Cullen sounded positively serene.

“You knew how much time you were spending with Jasper, in your saddened state.”

“Yes.”

“You knew that we would do this.”

“I…suspected.”

“You meant for us to do this.”

“That’s enough, I think. Thank you.”

Silence fell.

You opened your eyes just a crack. The pillow beneath your face was awash with yellow light; the sun had risen, since last you’d fallen asleep. None of it had been a dream. You were still trapped in a house with these people who thought they were vampires. You closed your eyes again. The two voices had been speaking from the direction you were facing: Dr. Cullen at your level, perhaps in a chair at your bedside; and the other above, as if standing.

“One month,” the first voice suddenly added, and you weren’t sure what it was in reference to. It was as if an inaudible question was being answered.

“That’s her optimistic guess, or her pessimistic?” Dr. Cullen inquired.

“If all goes well, it will be one month. Poorly, and the longest she’s seen is three months.”

“Well, that is good to hear. I’ve waited much longer with hope for much less.”

“I know.”

You turned over, so that your back was to them, and began to open your eyes again, but then you heard Dr. Cullen rise from his seat, take up the chair, and move around the foot of the bed. You kept your eyes shut as he set his chair down on the new side and sat in it once more. He did all of this matter-of-factly, as if he’d changed sides every time you’d turned over during the night.

The thought of anyone wanting to see your face that badly made you shiver a bit.

“Awake?” Dr. Cullen inquired casually. You didn’t hear an answer, but the other man must have nodded, because Dr. Cullen continued, “Good. Esme will be done with breakfast soon. She’s so happy to be cooking again.”

“Jasper is in the kitchen with her,” the other said, as if that was a related statement somehow. “I’m going hunting. Good luck.”

You weren’t sure why, but you felt as if he was talking to you as much as Dr. Cullen.

#yandere twilight #not harry potter #yandere carlisle cullen #yandere esme cullen #male yandere #female yandere #obsession #stalker #twilight fanfiction

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

genderbent wens, like the siblings and the head family?

ao3

“- and in one generation, they were all women, every single one of them!” Lao Nie laughed so hard he was very nearly hiccupping, but Lan Qiren supposed that was understandable on account of the other sect leader having consumed a truly unbearable amount of wine. Some of which was on his behalf – Lao Nie had been in a strange mood during the conference, especially excited, and had boisterously interjected himself into Jin Guangshan’s regular attempts to get Lan Qiren drunk by volunteering to take all his toasts for him – so Lan Qiren felt obligated to stay and keep him from making a nuisance of himself. “So be careful what you wish for, Jin-xiong!”

“Let go of me!” Jin Guangshan yelped, and really, getting squashed like that by Lao Nie tipping over onto him was exactly what he deserved. Only Jiang Fengmian was nice enough to try to help him, and all that accomplished was to get him pulled, laughing, into the drinking as well.

Possibly that had been his goal.

“That seems remarkably unlikely,” Wen Ruohan remarked. He, at least, was sitting properly, and had for once restrained himself during the festivities – he was friends of a sort with Jin Guangshan, which never seemed to go well for anyone else, but Lao Nie’s rowdiness had apparently severed that for the night. He looked sidelong at Lan Qiren. “Don’t you think, Sect Leader Lan?”

Lan Qiren could never figure out if Wen Ruohan meant for that term of address to be an insult or a compliment, and he was tired of trying.

“What is so unlikely?” he asked, having been paying more attention to Lao Nie’s stability than his words.

“An entire generation born as women,” Wen Ruohan said. He was playing with the cup of wine in his hands rather than drinking it. “Statistically possible, but highly improbable, given the size of the Nie sect.”

“Well, I assume he’s accounting for the misaligned,” Lan Qiren said, because Wen Ruohan wasn’t wrong – the Nie sect might be smaller than others, but it was still a Great Sect; it was very far from being small. “That would affect the numbers.”

“Misaligned?” Wen Ruohan echoed.

“A tradition among the Nie,” Lan Qiren explained, because it wasrather unusual. “They believe that the reincarnation cycle occasionally errs, with the soul of a woman ending up in a male body or a man in a woman – or I suppose neither and both, I’m not entirely certain about that one. At any rate, it’s not terribly common, but neither is it especially uncommon, so I suppose it’s possible –”

“Isn’t it a punishment?” Wen Ruohan interrupted.

Lan Qiren blinked at him, not understanding.

Wen Ruohan was looking down at his cup, which he had started to hold rather tightly – his knuckles were white, and it was only his especially good control over his cultivation that was keeping the cup from shattering. “The misalignment,” he clarified. “It’s said that those who commit sins in one life will be condemned in their next: reborn as an ant, or a chicken raised for slaughter. To be reborn into a body that does not fit you would surely seem to be along the same lines.”

“I suppose I see the argument,” Lan Qiren said, relieved that for once Wen Ruohan was in the mood for a theoretical discussion rather than causing trouble just to show that he had the power to do so without consequence. “I believe the Nie would argue in turn that being born as a thinking being capable of expressing oneself is sufficient basis to assume error rather than retribution – we’re all cultivators fighting the dictates of fate, after all. If one can seek immortality against all heavenly restrictions, then seeking to be recognized in the manner of your soul rather than your body would appear to be a much smaller issue.”

He shrugged and took a sip of his tea, rolling it in his mouth first to confirm it hadn’t been spiked with anything alcoholic.

“My assumption entirely,” he added. “I’m not actually that familiar with the Nie sect doctrine on this matter. Lao Nie is not the most academic, and if anything seems more bemused by our lack of understanding on the matter.”

Wen Ruohan was frowning into his cup, but at least he wasn’t gripping it so tightly.

“Fighting the dictates of fate,” he murmured. “Yes, I can see that. If you decide you are something, who dares say that you cannot be that, even the Heavens themselves?”

Such a Wen sect way of thinking, Lan Qiren thought to himself, shaking his head. Arrogant, defiant and proud – always raising their heads up high. Admirable in small doses, irritating in large!

“What would you do?” Wen Ruohan asked him, and Lan Qiren looked at him, surprised. “If there was – something like that, but in your sect? The Lan is the most orthodox of the sects; you do not even permit intermingling between men and women.”

“We don’t – men and women live separately; it’s not the same thing as not permitting intermingling,” Lan Qiren protested, but he supposed he could see the value in the question. “If one of my sect disciples informed me that they believed themselves to be a misalignment, I would – accept it, I suppose. Perhaps after a period of supervision, to ensure that they were serious and understood the consequences of their actions, that they would live and be perceived socially in the manner their soul for the rest of their lives; that would help ensure no one would engage in such a thing lightly or as a prank.”

He thought about it a little more.

“Yes, I think that’s right,” he concluded. “There are many rules that touch on the subject of being true to oneself, and none requiring adherence to the gender of one’s body; therefore, it is more in accordance to the rules to permit it. In such an event, I might also send them to the Unclean Realm for a time to further their understanding of the concept, to allow them time to reflect on the proposed change and to ensure they have access to a place where they can feel safe in exploring –”

“What if it were you yourself? Given your position?”

“Me?” Lan Qiren blinked. “I’ve always been comfortable being a man, so it isn’t an issue. But if it was, I would imagine that the same would apply to me as to anyone else in my sect. After all, we have precedent of a woman taking the role of Sect Leader, so that isn’t a consideration.”

“I suppose you do,” Wen Ruohan said. He seemed thoughtful. “What do you think the other sects would think of it?”

“Well, I can hardly say. Of the Great Sects? The Jiang sect would probably approve of it; their sect motto is ‘attempt the impossible’, and their emphasis has always been on freedom and finding your own way – I can’t imagine them objecting in a way that wouldn’t make them come across as complete hypocrites. The Nie would of course accept it. The Jin…”

The Jin sect, under Jin Guangshan, would reject it utterly. Perhaps it might be different under a different sect leader, but Jin Guangshan was even more wedded to the idea of people being in what he considered their ‘proper’ place than most. He hated the newly rich, the self-made upstart, even the poor young men who fought their way up from nothing – in his view, immortality was best reached by nothing ever changing. It was, perhaps, an understandable viewpoint from a man who felt as though he already had everything, but still rather disgusting given how despite all of that Jin Guangshan still grappled and sought after even more power and wealth than he already had – as if he were the only one allowed to rise, and everyone else had to stay where they were so he could more easily step on them on his way up.

“Oh, the Jin. Leave Jin Guangshan to me,” Wen Ruohan said with that dangerous smile of his, the one that promised blood on the ground.

Lan Qiren nodded agreeably, then frowned. Since when had they been discussing how to convince Jin Guangshan to be more open to an admittedly idiosyncratic Nie sect custom?

He was about to ask, but then Lao Nie started singing – with Jiang Fengmian providing the harmony, insofar as ‘harmony’ could be used to describe something that sounded not unlike a duet for elephants in heat or possibly someone using a brick to bludgeon people mid-opera – and they all got distracted in the unified effort of trying to get them to stop.

Lan Qiren then forgot about the entire conversation for approximately two months, and abruptly recalled it when Wen Ruohan issued an announcement that the Wen sect now permitted female sect leaders, that, furthermore, shewas the first one, and, finally, that if anyone objected on any basis whatsoever they were welcome to fight her personally.

Which –

Well, in all, Lan Qiren wished his fellow sect leader the best and started resigning himself to having to suffer from even more of Lao Nie’s flirting at the next discussion conference. That man had never yet met a man or woman who could kill him that he wouldn’t try to sleep with, and he generally preferred women…

“It’s nice to have the company of another girl,” Jiang Yanli said with a smile.

Wen Xu snorted. “I agree, even if I wish it were under different circumstances.”

Jiang Yanli managed to maintain her expression of peace and tranquility for exactly four breaths before she burst out into giggles, an incredibly infectious sound that finally made Wen Xu start laughing as well.

“It’s mean,” Jiang Yanli said, only laughing harder. “I should – I’m glad they’re happy! Really!”

“We can be glad that they’re happy and also think that our parents are insane,” Wen Xu said. “I can’t believe – your parents are already married! To each other!”

“They weren’t very happy, though,” Jiang Yanli said. “I honestly think Sect Leader Wen has been very good for them. Even if I don’t want to think too hard about it.”

Wen Xu nodded. They were both twelve, which was exactly the age at which you tried very hard not to think things like I’m pretty sure my mom’s railing your dad while your mom provides commentary with his face in her lap right this very instant and yet you did think it because the adults were very not subtle sometimes and then at that point there was nothing to do but laugh.

“I heard that lots of people thought she was going to get together with Sect Leader Nie at first,” Jiang Yanli said. “You know, because they flirt so much?”

“My mom says that Sect Leader Nie flirts with anyone who can kill him,” Wen Xu said, and still marveled a little at being able to say things or think things like mom. Before, she’d only ever been allowed to refer to his father through the most formal terms, with any attempt to use a more intimate sobriquet being viciously punished – she’d often thought that her father would rather she called him Sect Leader Wen instead, and maybe she’d been right.

Her mother was a lot more easy-going about that sort of thing now, though. Wen Xu still wasn’t sure whether it was because she preferred ‘a-niang’ over ‘a-die’ or if it was just that, having blown up the entire cultivation world through her gender choices, her mother felt a lot freer in ignoring the rest of the expectations that had burdened her, too.

“So he’s not serious about her?”

“I mean, maybe he is, I don’t know,” Wen Xu said. “But apparently the whole thing with my mom deciding to announce that she was a woman happened right around the time he was getting back together with his second wife so I guess he was taken?”

“Wait, he got back together with – wasn’t she dead?”

“Apparently not? I really don’t know what happens in the Unclean Realm.”

“Probably for the best,” Jiang Yanli said. “I mean – I don’t – uh, that is –”

“If you’re talking about the fact that my mom still wants to take over the entire cultivation world and declare herself an immortal Empress, trust me, I know.”

“Oh, good,” Jiang Yanli said. “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”

Wen Xu shrugged. She mostly just hoped that her mom’s current relationship with the other sect leaders was such that she didn’t actually murder them all in her inevitable effort to take over – it had always been something of a concern, and greater now that she actually knew Jiang Yanli was pretty cool.

“I also thought…” Jiang Yanli hesitated. “You yourself…?”

“Oh, no, I’m different. My birth mother made me pretend to be a boy,” Wen Xu said. “So that I could be the heir and she could keep her place as my father’s main wife, though of course in the end it didn’t really work out that well for her…I think A-Chao’s like mom, though. She wants to be a princess.”

“So she’s like your mom in the – ambitious sense?”

Wen Xu snickered. “Yes, that too. Actually, it’s a little funny. The whole thing started because my mom overheard Lao Nie talking about how a whole generation of Nie sect got cursed to be girls one time, and now I think mysect’s current generation is all girls.”

“Oh! Are they really?”

“Well, not really, but almost?” Wen Xu said. “There’s really just my mom, A-Chao, and me in the main branch, though we have some cousins that got sort of pulled into the main branch after their parents died – A-Qing and A-Ning. They were both born as girls, but recently A-Qing’s been saying that he thinks he might be happier as a man…it’s interesting. He’s not unhappybeing a woman the way I’m pretty sure my mom hated being a man, but he really likesbeing a man, and according to the Nie sect that’s the same thing, just a different expression of it? I don’t know.”

“How old are they?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“A-Qing’s about our age, and A-Ning is your brothers’ ages. You can meet them the next time there’s a conference in Qishan…”

“Can I bring Jiaojiao?” Wen Chao asked, and quailed under Wen Qing’s glare.

Wen Ning was just happy to remain underfoot and out of attention range. Her brother had a wicked way with needles when he wanted, and she wanted no part in any of that.

“Are you serious right now?” Wen Qing demanded. “You want to take your whore with you when we run away from home?”

“I’m not leaving Jiaojiao behind!” Wen Chao insisted. “And she’s not a whore! She doesn’t sleep with anyone but me.”

Hasn’t doesn’t mean wouldn’t, Wen Ning thought, then promptly felt bad for thinking it. It was a very catty thought and she was ashamed of it, even if Wang Lingjiao did strike her as rather…mercenary.

“Also I don’t understand why we have to run away anyway,” Wen Chao said, pouting. “So what if Mom started a war? We’re going to win, and then I’ll be a princess.”

“You’re an idiot,” Wen Qing said. “We’re not going to win.”

“But we control half the cultivation world!”

“Yes, and maybe if your mom was as ruthless as she used to be, she would’ve done the things necessary to win the war,” Wen Qing said. “Like take out Lao Nie early on, maybe. Now that the Nie sect’s got both him andNie Mingjue, any of our cultivators that go to the Unclean Realm are going to be slaughtered.”

Wen Chao winced, acknowledging the point.

“And ever since Lao Nie and Lan Qiren started their thing, it’s not like the Nie sect won’t also go defend the Lan sect, right?”

“…right.”

“And of course there’s the Jiang sect, which we probably couldraze to the ground if we really wanted to. But we’re not going to, and you know why?”

“Because Mom is fucking their sect leaders.”

“Because your mom is fucking their sect leaders,” Wen Qing agreed. “And that is why we declared war first on the Jin sect, because no one likes them.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that the Jin sect makes no sense at all as a target! If we take over the entire stretch of territory between Lanling and Qishan, Qinghe gets completely cut off from Gusu and Yunmeng and there’s no way they’re going to let that happen, which means that they’re going to declare war on us. And that is why we are running away from home, because we do not want to be here when the Nie sect shows up.”

Wen Ning’s brother was awesome and everyone should listen to him.

“Maybe your mom will rethink her actions once she’s seen that we’ve run away,” Wen Ning told Wen Chao in a low voice, since she was still scowling. “And I think it’s fine if you bring Jiaojiao. She’s your girlfriend, right?”

Wen Chao frowned. “I mean…she’s someone I’m sleeping with. For now. That’s all – she’s just a maid.”

Wen Ning would normally refrain from commenting, but… “If she’s just a maid, then why do you care about her potentially dying when the Nie sect invades?”

Wen Chao’s face did something. “I – maybe I just want to have her around to keep sleeping with her!”

Wen Qing looked on the verge of saying something, but Wen Ning stepped on her foot.

“Maybe you should think about it,” she said. “I don’t think we can let a servant to come with us – same reason we can’t take Wen Zhuilu, since he’d just report the whole thing to your mom – but if she was your girlfriend and you trusted her…”

She trailed off and shrugged.

Wen Chao’s face was doing weird colors.

“A-Ning, stop trying to teach A-Chao to have mature emotional reactions, it’s a hopeless case,” Wen Qing said. “Keep packing instead. If I was smart, I’d let A-Chao stay here with her Jiaojiao and her dreams of being a princess.”

“No!” Wen Chao exclaimed, then flushed red.

“No? Then pack.”

“How about we just assume girl until otherwise proven?” Wen Xu suggested, patting the baby’s back to try to keep calm. Whether the person to be calmed was the baby or Wen Xu herself was unknown. “She doesn’t need to have gender imposed so early.”

“Deciding that she’s a girl is imposing a gender,” Wen Chao said. Her head was in Wang Lingjiao’s lap, and she was pouting. “I can’t believe we have to take care of a baby.”

“She’s family,” Wen Qing said.

“Her parents aren’t!”

“Mom’s rules are that anyone who has the Wen surname and blood who doesn’t have parents gets adopted into the main family.”

“Do Sect Leader Wen’s rules even matter any more?” Wen Ning asked, wringing her hands. “With her being under house arrest…”

“It’s temporary. Once she vows not to wage offensive war without approval of the other Great Sect leaders, she’ll be released and things will go back to normal. Mostly. Possibly with slightly less war?”

“Yes, but in the meantime, why do we have to be in charge?”

“Uh, because you’re the heirs?”

“I’m not the heir,” Wen Chao sniffed. “A-Xu is.”

“This is so stupid,” Wen Xu said. “I can’t believe our mother’s military campaign and inevitable tragic defeat was derailed by the giant man-eating tortoise A-Chao found.”

“Anyone could’ve stumbled over that cave!”

“We weren’t even supposed to be heading in that direction! If you hadn’t stolen the map and insisted on being the navigator –”

“It all turned out for the best,” Wen Qing interrupted. “No blood feuds – or at least, not any we can’t afford to pay off – and that awful Jin Guangshan isn’t around anymore, which the other sect leaders are pretending to mind but really don’t. Mom will be back in charge of the sect soon enough, and with luck will forget all about trying to take over the world and will instead go back to fucking her two lovers that swooped in and saved her life instead defeating her because she’s incredibly touched by that even if she’s pretending she’s not. It’s like a scene out of a bad play.”

“Can we get back to the bit where we got a baby?” Wen Xu said. “I don’t want to deal with a baby.”

“I already explained –”

“I’ll take A-Yuan,” Wen Ning volunteered. “She seems sweet.”

“Girls usually are.”

“We are not saying everyone is a girl until otherwise determined!”

“Why not?” Wen Xu wanted to know. “Worked out pretty good so far.”

“I – that is – I mean…” Wen Qing floundered, then scowled. “Okay, listen. Not even the Nie sect does that, and I refuse for the Wen sect to be weirder than the Nie. All right?”

Everyone considered that, and agreed.

They might be weird – but they weren’t that weird.

Right?

#mdzs #wen ruohan #lan qiren #wen xu #jiang yanli #wen chao #wen qing #wen ning #feminine mystique

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years ago

Text

all this time

omg so i have not written in forever but then the bestie @goldensonlyangel did a writing challenge (CONGRATS ON 800!!!!!!!!!) and i got inspired so here we are :) I know it's not super long but i like how it turned out!!!

as always, if you don't like the dress i linked, just imagine something else! that's just the visual I had in mind :)

warnings: none

word count: 1.8k

"Macy, I don't have anything to wear," you sighed, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you poured a bowl of cereal. "You can borrow one of mine! Or i will literally buy you one. I'll do whatever it takes, you have to come!" "Why?" You whined. "I always feel so awkward. You know I love you, but everyone couples off and it's just weird." "But Harry's going to be there," she crooned, and you had never been more grateful that she couldn't see your face. Your face that was currently flaming hot at just the mention of him.

"I don't care," you lied. "He clearly doesn't like me, so I don't even want to try anymore." "You're wrong," she insisted. "We can all tell he has the biggest crush on you." "I don't think so," you said, even though your heart was fluttering at the idea. "Okay, I'll come. But you have to go shopping with me." "Of course!" She exclaimed. "Can we go right now?" "Give me an hour, and then I'll come pick you up."

-----

"How about this?" Macy asked, holding up the shortest dress you had ever seen. "That's basically just a shirt," you rolled your eyes. "Harry would love it," she grinned. "Harry won't care, because he doesn't like me," you said, trying to keep your voice level. You told yourself a long time ago that there was no point in getting your hopes up about him. You could never have him, so why hurt your own feelings? She shook her head, but seemed to get the hint that she should drop it for now. She pulled another dress off the rack, this time one that was much more your style. Your eyes lit up at her selection. "I like that one," you nodded. "I think it would look really good."

-----

"You look amazing!" She beamed, pulling you out of the changing room to stand in front of the full length mirrors. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your lips as you examined yourself in the mirror. "I do," you agreed. "Harry- I mean, everyone's going to love it," she said, blushing slightly at her slip up. You had to give her credit: she didn't give up easily.

-----

"You're here!!!" Macy screamed, rushing to the door and pulling you into a hug. "Of course I'm here!" you said, trying to match her energy. It wasn't an easy task; she had clearly had quite a few drinks tonight. She pulled away, holding you at arm's length to inspect your dress. "And you look amazing," she grinned. "Who helped you pick out that dress???" You smiled, shaking your head lightly. "I need a drink," you said, pulling back a bit more. "Of course!" she chirped. "Everything's set up in the kitchen. If you need anything else just find me!" Then she was off, pushing through the small crowd of people and right into the middle of the living room turned dance floor. You made your way to the kitchen, deciding you were much too sober to join her. You pushed open the door, hoping you would maybe see Bella, or Charlie, or any of the other girls you hadn't had the chance to catch up with lately. Instead, you ran directly into a broad chest belonging to none other than Harry, the man you'd had an unrequited crush on for years. "Oh- I'm so sorry!" you rushed out, grasping at the front of his shirt to steady yourself. He gasped slightly, reflexively gripping onto your arms to keep you from toppling over. "You alright?" he asked with a small smile. "I'm fine," you said, keeping your eyes on his chest as your face heated up to an almost painful degree. "Sure?" He asked one more time, ducking his head to meet your eyes. "I'm good," you said with a nervous laugh. "You can, um-" you glanced down to where his hands were still on your arms. "Oh!" He exclaimed, eyes going wide as he realized he was still holding onto you. "Sorry," he said, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks as he stepped back. "No, it's okay," you said quickly, not wanting him to feel bad. "I'm just- I'm gonna get a drink." He laughed, running a ringed hand through his hair. "Good idea. I think I need one too." He moved to stand next to you as you browsed the large selection of alcohol on Macy's table. "I think she might have a problem," you joked. "We might need to stage an intervention," he nodded very seriously before his face broke into a smile. "But," you said, reaching for a bottle of tequila, "She keeps us stocked for parties, so I can't bring myself to care too much." "Agreed," he grinned, reaching for the vodka. There were a few moments of silence as the two of you poured your drinks, and then Harry spoke again. "You look lovely tonight." His voice was soft, and he sounded almost nervous. "Thank you," you smiled. "I'll be honest, I didn't really want to come. Macy said I had to." "For once, I'm glad she's so pushy," he laughed lightly. "If she wasn't, I wouldn't have gotten to see you." Your heart sped up at his words, and it took you a second to fully process what he had just said. "I'm glad too," you said softly. "Why, um..." He cleared his throat before speaking again. "Why didn't you want to come?" "It's always just a little weird, you know?" you said, keeping your eyes on the drink in your hand. "Everyone pairs off by the end of the night and I kind of feel like a... seventeenth wheel." "I know what you mean," he nodded. "Like, I'm happy all our friends have found love, or whatever, but I also hate them juuuust a little bit." He pinched his fingers close together, squinting at you through the tiny gap. "Just this much." "Well, I'm glad it's only that much," you laughed. "But wait, since when are you not part of a couple? I thought you were with Ellie?" "No, we were never really together," he said, looking down at his drink as you had earlier. "I mean, I liked her, but apparently she didn't feel the same. She went off with Paul." "Oh," you said quietly, not sure how to respond to that. "Paul. What a skank." "Such a skank," he agreed, breaking into a laugh again. The warm feeling in your chest was probably partly from the alcohol, but you knew it was mostly Harry. Seeing him so happy, being the one who made him laugh... there was no better feeling. The two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence again,

sipping on your drinks every so often. By the time you finished, the music from the other room had quieted considerably. It was now a slow song, and you had no doubt that when you left the safety of the kitchen, you would find couples wrapped up in each other, too in love to care about anyone else. Just the idea of it was enough to kill your slight buzz, and you sighed involuntarily. Harry didn't appear to notice. He seemed to be deep in his own head, thinking about something. Before you got the courage to ask him what was on his mind, he stood up straighter and cleared his throat. "Y/N... can I have this dance?" He held out one hand to you, the other sweeping behind his back in a formal gesture. You giggled at his attempt to act prim and proper, when you both knew that was the furthest thing from his real personality. "I would be delighted," you said, copying his tone as you put your hand in his. He led you out of the kitchen and onto the makeshift dance floor. Just as you had imagined, most of your friends were with their significant others, swaying slowly to the soft music. Harry pulled you close, resting his free hand on your waist, his fingertips brushing the skin of your back. You shivered at the feeling, reaching your other hand up to rest on his shoulder. "You know... I had a dream about you last night," he said, continuing to sway the two of you in a slow circle. "Oh yeah? What about?" He hesitated for a minute, looking into your eyes. "It was just like this," he said quietly. "Only better." "How was it better?" Your voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "Because you were mine," he breathed. "I finally got my head out of my ass and asked you to be mine." You could barely breathe at this point. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, and you were sure harry could feel it from where his hand rested on your side. He didn't say anything though, he just keep his eyes on yours. "You want... you want me to be yours?" You asked, voice shaking slightly. "Would you?" He seemed just as nervous as you were. "I- yeah," you nodded, still staring at him. "I would." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I really like you," he admitted. "I have for a long time." "You have?" you asked in disbelief. "I've liked you for a long time." "Really?" He seemed just as surprised as you were. "We're really stupid, aren't we?" You laughed, dropping your head against his chest as you nodded. "We are." You felt him inhale deeply, and then his fingers were brushing your jaw, tilting your face back up to look at him. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, gaze flitting down to your lips before he met your eyes again. "Yes, you can," you said breathlessly. "Please?" He smiled, leaning closer and pressing his lips against your cheek. You nearly melted at the contact, brain short circuiting at the realization that Harry, the man you had loved for so long, felt the same way about you, and was standing here in your arms, about to kiss you. His lips lingered against your skin for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he sighed, giving you no more time to think about it before his lips were on yours. Your eyes slipped closed as his hand moved to your back, pulling you closer to him. He was gentle, his lips moving softly against yours as you pressed your fingers into his shoulder. He pulled back after a few seconds, resting his forehead against yours with a breathless laugh. "Can't believe i waited so long to do that," he sighed. "Neither can I," you said softly, turning your head slightly to kiss his cheek. "I'm glad you finally went for it." "Me too."

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harrystylesxyou #harry styles x you fanfiction #harrystylesxreader #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles x you #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you fanfiction #goldens800fics

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chubbyreaderwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Joke Pt 2

Sirius Black X Chubby/Plus Size Reader

Imagine: Sirius really likes you but his reputation makes you think he’s using you for a joke. He has to prove his feelings for you but it goes horribly wrong.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: none?

Part 1

Masterlist

previously

You looked him in the eyes and you sighed, “I’m sorry, I do forgive you but I don’t think we can be anything more than friends at the moment. I’ll see you around.” You turned around and walked away, wondering if you did the right thing or not. Meanwhile, Sirius was frozen in place, he admit it could’ve gone a lot worse but it wasn’t what he hoped would happen. He was glad that you forgave him but he still had to prove he was serious about you. He wanted to show you that he liked you, in fact, he was probably falling in love with you. But he wasn’t going to give up, he’d get you to fall in love with him by the end of the year...

You stared up at the ceiling of your bed, lying on your back with your hands interlocked over your stomach. It was after hours but still just a Saturday which meant you didn’t have to worry about accidentally sleeping in for class the next morning. You were lying on top of your sheets in your gryffindor-themed pyjamas, thinking about the recent events in your life. The last day or two had been unlike any other. You couldn’t believe that Sirius had humiliated you in such a way. Every time you thought about how everyone pointed and stared and laughed at you, you felt like there was a lump in your throat, feelings of dread bubbling as you realised you would have to see those people again on Monday. You could see now that Sirius might have thought it was a harmless joke, but you were sick of being the butt of the joke all the time, you were sick of being someone people thought it was okay to point and laugh at. You didn’t want to be a laughing stock.

A tap on your shoulder brought you out of your thoughts and you turned your head to see Lily’s familiar red hair falling down her face and into your view. She gave you a sympathetic smile and lightly tapped your side twice with the back of her hand, a silent request for you to move over. You complied and watched as she lay down next to you, mimicking your position, though had her head tilted to face you, “I’m really sorry (Y/N), I know he’s a prat but I thought he would at least consider your feelings. I’ll talk to him if you want? Make sure he stays away from you.” You released a deep sigh and gave Lily a small smile, she was always looking out for you, “That’s okay, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.” Lily’s eyes still held a considerable amount of concern, “Are you s-”

A loud snore interrupted Lily’s next words and the two of you looked over to the bed opposite yours where a fast asleep Molly Prewett lay, open-mouthed and messy ginger locks splayed all over her pillows. You and Lily shared a look before covering your mouths to muffle your laughs as not to wake the other girl. Lily rolled onto her side to give you a quick hug, “I’ll let you go to sleep now, you need to be rested if we’re going to do all our homework tomorrow like you promised.” You mentally groaned, you’d forgotten about that. You had at least six different pieces to complete by Wednesday, but Lily liked to do it all together with you, to make sure it wasn’t late. You gave her a smile and flicked your wand to shut your curtains, muffling the noise of Molly’s snoring to help you sleep. You turned over onto your side and let out a deep breath before closing your eyes and slowly drifting to sleep.

The next day, you’d tried your best not to think about Sirius and you’d been doing well, thanks to Lily and Molly. You had all sat together with a couple other girls in your year at breakfast so your view of the marauders gang was blocked and therefore, you had no reason to think about one of them in particular. As soon as breakfast had finished, you’d been dragged away to the library to uphold your promise. You moaned and complained about all the work you had to do but one stern look from Lily shut you up as she went over the instructions for the potions homework. You hadn’t been given an opportunity to think about anything else other than work when studying with Lily. You and Molly kept trying to make excuses for why you couldn’t do the work today, but Lily reminded you both that you agreed to do this with her. You put your hands together, elbows on the table, and whined, “Come on Lily, we’ve been doing this for 3 hours straight, can we please take a break?” Molly nodded along to your begging, adding, “Yeah, my hands all cramped up from writing so much, I need twenty minutes to get back some motivation.” Lily rolled her eyes, “Fine, 15 minutes, but not a second longer.” You grinned, perking up in your seat, “Yes!”

Amidst your victory, you hadn’t noticed four gryffindor students sneaking their way into the library, desperately avoiding the librarian, and making their way over the table next to your own until they were pushing their chairs in. Their table was coincidentally located behind a large bookshelf so the librarian wouldn’t be able to see the group sitting there. You tensed up and both Molly and Lily shot you worried looks but you shook your head, silently communicating with them to say that you were fine. You heard someone clearing their throat quietly but you didn’t look up, choosing to ignore whoever it was. Lily looked over Molly’s head to see James waving her over to them. She shook her head and crossed her arms, ignoring the defeated look on Potter’s face. She turned her attention back down to the parchment paper in front of her, sorting it all out into the different subjects.

Molly leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Reckon me and you should hex their arses into next week, filthy toads.” You gave her a look of mock disappointment, “That’s not nice, toads are much better company.” Molly snorted and you giggled under your breath. Sirius heard the sound and looked over in your direction, one hand on the back of his chair and on the table to turn his torso around to gaze at you. The sound of your laughter was like music to his ears and he only wished he was the one making you laugh instead. He wished for a lot of things when it came to you actually. He wished he could hold you in his arms, he wished he could kiss you, he wished he could sweep you off your feet, he wished you had the same feelings for him as he did for you. But of course, he couldn’t make those wishes come true and was having to settle for watching you from a distance. Remus, who was sitting next to Sirius, nudged him with his shoulder, “Cut it out, you’ve been staring for ages.” Sirius reluctantly turned back around in his chair, facing James and Peter. He huffed and sulked, looking down at the table as though it was responsible for all of the wrongdoings in his life. James scoffed at his friend’s attitude, “Why are you so hooked up on this girl? You’re Sirius Black, you don’t do relationships.” Sirius only sighed in response to James’ question. It was true, he’d never felt this way about a girl before, it had scared him at first, but every time he saw you, it made him excited and it felt like there were butterflies in his stomach trying to get out.

James and Remus shared a look with each other, if their friends was acting like this, then they knew it was serious. James pushed Peter onto his feet and told him to distract the librarian and when she saw him, she wasted no time in dragging the plump boy out by his ear, presumably to Dumbledore’s office. Sirius was oblivious as he still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. You could feel his gaze on you and it was starting to make you feel uncomfortable, but not as much as when you saw James approaching your table. He pulled a chair up between you and Lily, resting his arms on the table, “Good morning ladies, now i believe we have to talk about the elephant in the room.” You tried not to laugh at the bored look on Molly’s face. James was unbothered by the silence and continued, turning to face you. “So, (Y/N), now that Sirius has apologised and all, what do you say you give my boy a chance huh? Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about being with the Sirius Black.” As much as you could appreciate how good of a friend James was being right now, you really wanted to punch him in the face. James flinched back and seemingly lost all his courage when he saw your face twist in anger. “I don’t care if he apologised, he embarrassed me in front of everyone. I was humiliated. How would you feel if everyone was pointing and laughing at you everywhere you went. I couldn’t even go into the common room without people whispering about me. I’m sick of being laughed at, so you go back and tell your friend that if he wants to come talk to me, then do it himself because if i hear his name come out of your mouth again, I’m going to hex you into next week.”

James slowly nodded his head, choking out, “Message received. I’ll leave you lot to it then.” He was only too eager to head back to the others and gave Sirius a sympathy tap on the shoulder, “Yeah, I wish i could say I helped but that would be a lie, you’re welcome anyway.” Sirius visibly drooped in his chair out of defeat and Remus pulled him onto his feet by the arm, “Come on lads, we should get a move on before she comes back, I don’t feel like having my ear yanked on today.” The trio left but Sirius kept his eyes on you until you were out of sight. James and Remus stood either side of him, James put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, “Mate, you’ve got to get over her or do something about it. You can’t just be a creep and stare at her.” Remus scoffed, “‘Cause what you do to Lily is completely different.” James went silent so Remus grabbed his friend’s attention, “Why don’t you try getting her something she likes? Think of it like a peace offering before you talk to her again.” Sirius nodded along, “Yeah alright, thanks mate.”

Earlier in the evening, you had been walking back from the Great Hall on your own, but you didn’t quite mind it that much. Sometimes it was nice to have some alone time with your thoughts. It was a bit too cold to walk outside so you headed straight for the common room, sitting on a couch, staring at the fire. You sighed as you checked your watch, deciding to wait until Lily returned from whatever she was doing to go to bed. The portrait opened and you heard soft footsteps. Out of curiousity, you turned your head to look behind you to see Sirius with something in his hand. For a brief second the two of you made eye contact and your eyes widened as you quickly turned back around to pretend like you didn’t see him. When that brilliant plan failed and you heard him walking over to you, you winced and mentally cursed yourself for not going straight upstairs. To your surprise, he didn’t sit down next to you, instead stood by your side, a little far aways as to not be too close.

He was quieter than usual, which made you look up to see his mouth open as though he wanted to say something but he couldn’t get the words out. He looked nervous and almost worried and you couldn’t believe that the man before you was actually Sirius, this was so unlike him. You furrowed your brow in concern, “Are you okay?” The worry on your face was enough to snap him out of it and he gave you a small smile, looking down at the black box he held in his hands. It was square and not overly large but not very small either and neatly tied with a dark red ribbon complete with a bow on top. He fiddled with it as he spoke, “I wanted to apologise once more about.. you know what. It was wrong of me and I hope the two of us can begin to become friends again. This is for you, I wasn’t sure what you’d like but I saw these and thought of you and so..” he paused to catch his breath and you reached your hand out to place over his, giving him a half smile, “Friends?” you said. Sirius nodded in return, handing over the box, “Friends.” Once you held the box in your hands, you started to unwrap the bow on the top of the box. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed how he couldn’t keep still as he anticipated your reaction. Carefully, you pulled the lid off and you let out a small gasp as you looked in the box. Inside were a beautiful pair of earrings that had a gold wire wrapped around a deep red crystal. They seemed to shimmer in the reflection of the fire and you were in awe.

You put them back in the box and turned to face him once more, “I can’t accept these, it’s too much.” Sirius stepped back out of your reach in protest, “You’ve already taken them.” You rolled your eyes, gesturing towards him with the box in your hand, “Stop it, just take them back, it’s too much I mean it.” Once more, he denied your request and firmly told you, “As your friend, I insist you keep them.” You sighed in defeat and slouched down back into your seat, “Oh alright.” Sirius grinned in victory, “I’m glad you like them, so I’ll see you around then, eh (Y/L/N)?” You shook your head but were secretly smiling to yourself, “Sure thing Black.” You heard his footsteps retreating and then ascending up the stairs to the boys dormitories. Now that you were pretty much alone again, you pulled out the earrings once more to admire them, holding them in your hands and you had to urge to bring them up to hold against your chest. You’d never received such a gift before, you loved them. Maybe he really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings?

#chubby reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #sirius black x chubby reader #sirius black x plus size reader #sirius black x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x chubby reader #harry potter x plus size reader

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hypnomicimagines · 3 years ago

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20 with kuko please:D!(gn preferably)

Harai Kuko:

You’d never seen Kuko look at you like this.

There was this burning rage behind them, completely unprompted by anything you had done. He couldn’t even give you a direct reason for the hatred spewing from his mouth, the anger he was directing at you over imagined scenarios. Kuko was an honest boyfriend, he would never start a fight just for the sake of it which left your mind reeling even more. How had you not seen this coming?

“Kuko…!” You reached out to touch his shoulder but are met with a heated glare, the monk slapping your hand away from him before you could make contact. You looked at him wide-eyed, thinking the momentary regret you see flash in his eyes as just an illusion, something you wanted to see. You held your hand to your chest as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, wishing more than anything that you could hurt him in the same way he had hurt you.

But he’d already said he didn’t care about you, about your feelings, that it was over.

There was nothing left for you to say to him.

You remember sobbing when you got home that night, hastily deleting the pictures you had of him in your phone, trying to wipe all memories you had of him. Kuko had been such a positive pillar in your life, you had grown alongside him for so long, you had thought you really knew him inside and out yet this hit you like a bullet. It happened so quick yet the pain of his words still lingered, you couldn’t help but think he wasn’t acting like his usual self. You no longer had the strength to question it though, too afraid of facing his wrath again; Kuko really was a scary person when you were on the other side of his anger.

It’s been years and yet you still think of him.

You tried to rationalize that it was just because he was your first love, of course you missed what you had with him because it had been intense. Being with him was unlike any romantic encounter you had, including the relationships you attempted to get into as a fresh-faced adult. You knew you were still young but there was the lingering fear that no one would ever make you feel the way he did, that you were missing an important detail and that blocking his number had been the wrong thing to do. But you had protected your heart in the only way you knew how, trying to look toward the future rather than back at what once was.

Kuko had been the one to give you that advice…

You were happy to be starting your new job at Amaguni Law Offices, having heard great things about your boss. You were hired as an aide to the secretary but you were hoping to directly assist with cases one day, not knowing if law was exactly the right career but wanting to see change in action. You were having a relatively good day, you found you were quite good at speaking to distressed clients and scheduling their appointments was a breeze once you understood how the computer system worked. The secretary seemed relieved to have you with her as she said work tended to be fast-paced and overwhelming with just her, it left you feeling good, like you had a real purpose.

Everything was good until you had to see his face again.

You’re hidden behind the computer and don’t look up at first until you hear the sounds of footsteps walking past you, having been expressly told to not let anyone interrupt the meeting your boss was having. You jumped as quick as you could, you had been making a good impression all day and you weren’t about to let some teenage punks ruin that for you. You reached out for the shorter one, hurriedly asking him if he had an appointment before you’re stopped in your tracks.

When Kuko’s eyes met yours it felt like the world had stopped, the same way it had when he had stomped on your heart. Your mouth went dry and the expression on his face was completely unreadable but you had at least gotten him to stop walking. The taller of the two, a boy you didn’t know as it certainly wasn’t Ichiro, looked at the two of you with confused eyes. Your heart was beating rapidly and it felt like no air was reaching your lungs, you knew you couldn’t stay in the same room as him much longer. Maybe if you had been prepared to see him you could’ve taken this but this was the most unwanted surprise you could ever have on the first day of work.

Hitoya walked out of his office to see why there were people lingering at his door, eyebrow raised when he sees the staring contest occurring between you and Kuko. He hadn’t looked away from you yet, it seemed he was still processing like you were but you bet he didn’t hurt like you did. He was the one who left you in the dust, after all.

“I have to go.” Your eyes flickered to Hitoya’s briefly before you made yourself scarce, gathering your belongings and leaving the law office as quickly as you could. You kept your head ducked down as you walked through the bustling city streets, hoping to get lost in the crowd, to just blend in among the people and disappear completely. You would have to give Hitoya a proper apology later and accept that potential firing at suddenly walking out on your job, but you couldn’t stay there a second longer.

Why did he have to look at you like that?

You’re exhausted and out of breath when you’re finally home, heading straight to your room without a second thought. Your head is spinning, heart still pounding, anxiety flaring up as you think about how you’ll have to grovel to Hitoya in hopes of keeping your job. But did you really want that if there was a chance of seeing Kuko again? You had avoided this problem for so long that when it came rearing it’s ugly head you were at a total loss of what to do, the pain unfortunately fresh.

‘He looked good,’ You thought miserably, ‘His hair looks better not slicked back. I bet he’s still causing problems for his dad… I wonder if he matured anymore.’

You wished you didn’t still have this odd fondness for Kuko, the lingering feelings of love. You couldn’t just hate him despite what he had said to you because there was still a part of your brain that felt total disbelief at the turn in behavior he showed. He had always been respectful, a teasing brat for sure but he knew what was too far and what your boundaries were. Your Kuko would never…

You couldn’t think about him like that anymore.

He wasn’t your Kuko.

He was just Kuko.

Your phone began to ring and you were reluctant to pick it up, but seeing as it was your boss calling…

“…Could you come back? I think we should all talk.” Hitoya paused to allow you a chance to process his request, “I’d like for you to continue working here with me, you show promise and you’re quick but I won’t put you in an uncomfortable situation. I can recommend you to other lawyers in the area who have openings.”

“Okay.” Your voice is soft, so quiet he almost didn’t hear you, but he lets out a relieved sigh. “I’ll be on my way soon.”

You feel just as awkward as you did when Kuko first walked into the office but with Hitoya and their other friend here, it felt considerably less awkward. It’s not to say you didn’t still feel like curling up into a ball but your former boyfriend wasn’t exactly being his normal loud self, something that left you both unsettled yet entirely grateful. You don’t know if you could take the usual Kuko energy right now but it seemed like your personal shields were getting ready to leave the room to give you both a chance to talk it out.

“If you have a question then ask it.” Kuko’s gaze was steady as he looked you square in the eye, something that pissed you off just as much as the fact that he was the one to start this conversation. You had thought of countless things you wanted to say to him over the years, that you hated him too, that you didn’t deserve to be talked to or yelled at like he had, that you deserved an explanation, that you missed him.

“Why did you break up with me?” There’s hesitation in your voice, as if your brain didn’t think about the consequences of learning the answer to this question before you had posed it.

“I…don’t know.” Kuko still seemed calm but you could hear the hints of frustration in his voice, “I wanted to come see you. To talk about what happened but I couldn’t… I didn’t have an explanation for what happened. Everything I said to you…”

“You said you didn’t have feelings for me! You said you hated me and my face and that you never wanted to see me again!”

“I know what I said, damn it!” Kuko sighed, crossing his arms. “All I can tell you is that I didn’t mean it. I did in the moment but after… Whenever I think about it, it’s just a blur. I didn’t want to bother you if I couldn’t come up with a proper explanation for my actions but I don’t think there is one.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“I know it doesn’t! I didn’t want to bother you without being able to offer a proper apology which would require knowing why the hell I did what I did!”

“So why are you apologizing now?”

“…Because I saw you again. At any moment life can present you a crossroads, a chance to lead you closer to your personal truth or further away from it.”

“I’m glad you still talk in tongues but I don’t know what the hell that’s supposed to mean.”

“I’m not the same person I was back then, and I don’t expect your forgiveness. I’ve never forgotten what I’ve said to you, I could see how much it hurt you and I wanted to stop but there was this feeling inside of me… this burning rage that wanted to be taken out on anyone close. You’re not the only person I lost that day.”

He seemed sadder now, vision clouded by past regrets, but the look is quickly wiped from his face replaced by a more confident smirk. It was the old Kuko you knew and loved, the troublemaker who had a good heart even if he was a bit brash. You could see that he truly had grown over the years, likely having much more room to do so but as a monk there was always growth to be had. To truly help people he would have to experience as many things as he could, truly understand people, so you could see how what happened to him was especially annoying from his perspective.

“I don’t. I don’t forgive you but I’m really tired of being so mad at you. I know all about you and the rap thing and Mr. Amaguni being part of your team so I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

Kuko didn’t want that, he didn’t want you to stay out of his way but he knew he had no right to request anything else. He simply nodded his head in agreement, wishing he was the type of man who could speak up for what he wants rather than watching the person he loved walk away from him once more.

#Harai Kuko #Kuko Harai #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Harai Kuko x Reader #Scenario #Prompt List

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in-tua-deep · 3 years ago

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Ok I totally want to hear more about this survivors au/Delores is real! How do the siblings handle having this different version of Five? Five may be better adjusted but he still has to heard his family around like a bunch of stray cats. What happens when Hazel and Cha Cha show up? How do they find out that Vanya causes the apocalypse and how does Five handle that revelation?!

here is the thing, i think the survivors au has the potential to be HILARIOUS

no one knows how to handle a well-adjusted five, and this absolutely includes the commission

So you mentioned Hazel and Cha-Cha?? Five in this au was not nearly as absolutely feral as he is in the show bc he knows how to interact with people - he was raised by a competent adult and a weird best friend and they occasionally saw other survivors as well

please picture old Five hanging around the water cooler and chatting with Hazel

the other funny thing is that Five is competent passing - he is well adjusted emotionally but functionally?? Hazel is out there complaining about dental being cut and office parties and budgets and Five is there sipping his drink having never filed taxes in his life. Five doesn't know what the fuck a dental plan is, he was a child soldier and then lived in an apocalypse.

So please picture for me Hazel being like "okay I know corporate wants us to keep what we're being paid to ourselves but fuck that, workers unite, what do you get paid as a legend old timer?"

and five is like "you're getting paid? i get to not get tossed back into the apocalypse, I think"

"but what about expense forms? what about medical care?"

"I'm like 80% sure i'm being experimented on, actually." Five says nonchalantly, "Don't get me wrong, my idea of medical care is fucked by being a child soldier but I'm pretty sure regular people don't have electrodes attached to their heads every time they get a checkup. Could be wrong though! My ex-dad used to monitor my brainwaves while I slept so like, my idea of appropriate shit is fucked, you know?"

This is a Five who was raised by Rick, he is polite to his coworkers. If Dot asked him if he wanted to grab lunch, Five would have gone and grabbed lunch with her or politely said that he couldn't.

Cha Cha only ever talks to Five when she wants to talk shop, so they've had a couple of conversations about weapons but not much else tbh, Hazel just tends to be more personable

So when they're sent after Five, Hazel is much more hesitant to kill who he perceives as a "work friend" and also is definitely thinking about all the times Five casually revealed a way the commission was being highkey shady about him, such as the potential experimentation, no pay, working under duress etc. He's much more easily turned against the commission because he's even more primed to say "fuck the commission" than he is in canon

Hazel out here like "how did Five break his contract when Five wasn't even being paid? I kind of want to read it."

Hazel out here like "I would unionize if I didn't think the commission was anti-union enough to send literal assassins after me if I suggested it :/"

meanwhile with the siblings

Five just. talks over them a lot and makes so much sense that it's actually really hard to argue with him, and he's weirdly considerate of his family's obligations

Like Diego is like "i have to go see Patch" then Five is like "that's great I'm proud of you buddy, it would actually be really handy to have some law enforcement read into the situation if you think she's up to the task. that goes for everyone by the way! If y'all have people you trust, more bodies would be super helpful I think"

the entire family, collectively, who have like zero trusted social links: uhhhhhhhh

Diego, with this weird permission, probably?? Does? Awkwardly attempt to read Patch into the situation? Patch is, obviously, like "what the fuck, Diego" but probably goes with him to the mansion (????????) because she's concerned and then meets his fucking whacko family with their superpowers and suddenly everything is 100% more realistic

Five is just like "yes hello I'm aware I look like a child, i'm actually in my late 50s or early 60s (apocalypse time amiright) because of time travel stuff. Yes I am Five Hargreeves who went missing in like 2002 or whatever. anyway it's lovely to meet you, i'm so glad diego has someone he trusts, and considering my sibling's shifty looks when i told them to invite anyone they trusted this genuinely makes me concerned that Diego is the most socially well-adjusted of them."

"That cannot be possible." Patch says, like someone who has met Diego Hargreeves.

"You haven't met the rest." Five says sympathetically, "In our defense we were raised in isolation as child soldiers."

"That... explains so much." Is all Patch can say to that, "But you seem..."

"I'm adopted." Five waves away.

"We're ALL adopted." Diego grits out, very aggrieved by this and also not sure if he likes the fact that Patch seems friendly with Five, or at least is listening to him?

"I'm double adopted."

However! With the recruitment of Patch, herding Diego becomes like 90% easier.

Honestly the worst to herd are probably Luther and Allison? Luther because he's Number One and resents Five taking charge and also resents Five's casual dismissal of Reginald and also suspects that Five (or at least the commission) has something to do with Reginald's death?

Allison because she is torn between following Luther and helping him and helping Five but also calling Patrick and Claire at every possible moment while ALSO trying to repair her relationship with Vanya. She's flighty - she'd bail on a Five-apocalypse-assignment if Vanya mentioned being hungry or if Luther called or anything like that

Vanya likes to be included and, if asked, would probably drop as many current obligations as she can. Like she would probably cancel her teaching if Five genuinely and sincerely asked her for her help, which he does because he's 100% sure Dolores would manifest in front of him and smack him if he dared even imply someone without powers wouldn't be helpful

Vanya is like "I'm not sure if i'll be helpful - I don't have powers ):" and Patch is like "wtf are you talking about - my superpowers are Gun, Backup, and Reading Comprehension and i am like the most useful member of this team right now"

Vanya gets a confidence boost just from hanging out with Patch honestly, I think they should be friends

Klaus is thrilled to be included are you kidding?? He says he does it for money but he's just happy to be there and also as one of the most emotionally intelligent siblings he is mildly concerned about the fact that Five looks like he's about to cry and also emotes

Five also gives Klaus positive reinforcement, hugs, and Five absolutely weaponizes the I'm not mad, but I believe that you can do better and I'm going to give you more chances because I love you and fully believe that next time you'll be amazing way that Rick used on him.

I feel like Five ends up saying something along the lines of "I understand that x is really important, and we're definitely going to look into it. Is it something that needs to be addressed right now, or is it something that can wait until after April 1st? If it can wait, I can write it down here on this list so we don't forget. If it can't wait then we can figure out a time to address it and help you" a lot

Like Grace malfunctioning and potentially killing Reginald?

"We don't have to make this decision right now." Five says patiently, "Because Grace is a robot, we have some options. Living with a robot who is potentially malfunctioning and homicidal is dangerous, but Luther saying that means admitting that Reginald might have made a mistake or error with Grace's programming or upkeep. I haven't been here for a long time, but I remember Reginald being very precise. Regardless, this isn't a choice between permanently shutting her off or not. We can shut her down temporarily until we can fully address the issue. We can ask and see if there is a 'system reboot' option or some sort of system check that Grace can undergo. We can try find and hire an expert to take a look at her programming to find the issue."

Five gives this speech while like, organizing the weaponry in the house on a table very nonchalantly

Five out here making buzzer noises at his siblings arguments like "yeah no that's a false dichotomy and a strawman's argument, want to try again?"

(Look apocalypse nights were long and they had games that were literally about arguing pointless shit like ranking types of chairs or the best way to break out of a prison without powers and things could get heated)

"Who died and made you boss?" Luther demands.

"Uh, the world? Were you not listening?" Five asks, looking very purposefully confused.

It gets even MORE delightful when Five reads Rick into the situation because a) he promised and b) his siblings really have like, no connections jeeze

Rick fully believes that this is his son from the future, like Five introduced himself, but Five skipped out on a few key details. Such as being adopted.

So Rick spends a solid chunk of time just staring at Five, who looks basically nothing like him, trying to think like, who is his mother ???? if we save the world will Five stop existing? why would I name my child 'Five'? Does everyone have powers in the future? was there like... a radioactive apocalypse? would radiation give future humans superpowers? when did my life turn into a comic book? am i even allowed to ask these questions? will knowledge of the future fuck things up?

and then when Five comes back and is like "what is up everyone this is my dad Rick who will be joining us, he doesn't have any memories of me thanks to time travel but if anyone is mean to him i WILL kneecap them"

"Your DAD?"

Five does kidney punch Klaus for saying that Rick is a DILF but otherwise everyone just is like, warily looking at this Normal Dad Man in confusion because?? This is the dude who raised Five, who they watched take out like an entire commission team by himself yesterday? He looks so. Normal.

Rick is very confused and like, wonders if he's supposed to be the team mascot? But Five keeps involving him and asking his opinion and in return Rick enforces snack breaks and makes everyone sandwiches and has gentle talks with everyone

Every time Five notices someone about to blow he just lovingly makes sure that that person is alone in a room with Rick

Luther ends up crying on the sofa with Rick gently patting his back as Rick calmly states that Luther seems like he's put a lot of time and effort into his family and making his father proud and that since Reginald isn't here to say it, Rick will have to be the one to say that he's proud and that they've been dropped into a difficult and stressful situation - so soon after Reginald's death when they're still grieving! - and he's doing so well

Luther, experiencing unconditional positive paternal regard for the first time in his life: i don't know why i'm crying so much

honestly this is just a comedy of juggling the gang, having impromptu therapy sessions and discussions, investigating the apocalypse and the eye, leonard trying to meet vanya continuously and failing because she's constantly surrounding by family or rick/patch, the commission trying their best to bust up the dream team/isolate Vanya/kill or remove Five, while Hazel lives out his romcom dreams with Agnes and also says "fuck the commission"

#HUH?#survivors au #well adjusted five au #long post #far tua long #five recruits rick to be team dad #rick is DEEPLY confused #but he's the kind of person that rolls with it #dolores probably ends up tagging along as well on at least one occasion #dolores and patch bond #five pretends that dolores is a new sibling and not his dolores #five calls rick 'dad' and it messes with everyone else #patch is on team fuck-the-apocalypse(-and-reginald)#vanya is never alone so fuck leonard #five finds out that vanya causes the apocalypse and is like #vanya: HUH?#luther: maybe we should lock vanya up -#rick: are there are any other possible actions that might be more appropriate in this situation?#vanya: i could try get more meds to take and we could address the powers thing after april 1st #vanya immediately gets validated that reginald sucks #even luther who has had multiple conversations with rick is like 'dad... didn't always make the best choices...'#everyone: :0 #hazel doesn't kill patch so he probably joins team anti-apocalypse at some point #hazel: why are you a child #five: oh you know i'm young at heart and all that #OH forgot to mention one of the main differences in this au is that five like properly grew up this time #so while he is inconvenienced by his body he's not so deeply uncomfortable or angry about it #just resigned #'this might as well happen' - five #five probably makes jokes about it as well

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mochegato · 3 years ago

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I Can’t Fight This Feeling

Chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

It took two weeks for Jason to break his vow to stay away from Marinette. To be fair, it wasn’t entirely his fault. He hadn’t sought her out and she hadn’t sought him out either. But fate, or the universe, or luck, maybe she wasn’t wrong about having bad luck after all, had decided they weren’t done with each other.

His eyes were drawn to a figure making their way across the club. It wasn’t so much that she caught his attention, though that dress definitely looked like it was poured on her and brought attention to her curves before it cascaded down to the floor like a waterfall from her hips, moving in mesmerizing patterns each time she took a step. It was more the looks she was getting as she passed through the crowd that caught his attention. Anyone getting that much attention was asking for trouble and it didn’t appear that she even realized the effect she had.

She had almost made it to the edge of the crowd when one of his regulars grabbed her arm and forced her to turn toward him. Jason cursed when he saw her face. Why was Marinette here? The Iceberg Lounge wasn’t a place for someone like her. He moved quickly to intercede before that particular regular, who had a reputation for getting handsy with women, touched Marinette again.

He knew not to touch women without consent in Jason’s club, but if he forgot with Marinette, Jason was going to have to kill him, and he didn’t have murder on his schedule for today. He would have to move around some of his other plans to accommodate. Jason pulled his gun out of its holster, gripping it firmly, ready to take it off safety if he needed it. He made it to them just as Marinette had dropped the guy with a well-placed punch. The man growled and stood up to hit her back, but stopped when he saw Jason behind her, his gun pointed at him. He snarled at them, but backed away and left the club as quickly as he could.

Marinette’s stance quickly relaxed and she let out a relieved breath. She took a few more breaths before she started to move. Her movement forced Jason to realize he had been staring at the way the dress molded to her and moved with her as she breathed. He swallowed to wet his suddenly dry mouth and quickly moved behind her. He couldn’t let her go just yet. That guy got fixated easily and if he fixated on Marinette, he’d wait for her all night and either jump her immediately or trail her home to stalk her there. Jason couldn’t let her leave yet or alone.

He holstered his gun and leaned closer to her with a smile. “Fuck, you’re going to kill me in that dress,” he whispered in her ear.

She whirled around, her fist already cocked to lash out and punch him. He caught it mid-swing. “Careful, Pixie. You could hurt someone that way,” he smirked.

“Jason,” she whispered out. Her fist immediately relaxed in his hand. A beaming smile made its way onto her face, taking Jason’s breath for a few seconds. She looked down shyly and let out a light laugh before looking up at him again, a cheeky glint in her eye. “Why would I kill you in this dress? Though granted, if you ripped my dress trying to get into it, I would have to kill you, so I can see that happening. But, I can design your own if you want one.”

He smirked at the offer. He hadn’t seen this side of her before and he loved the thrill it sent through him. “And I would look killer in it too.”

“You would look killer in anything. I think the real design challenge would be to design something you wouldn’t look amazing in.” She took a step closer to him as she spoke.

Jason pulled her hand against his chest. “I’m glad you think so, Pixie,” he said quietly, suddenly feeling nervous. He looked around anxiously, silently tallying all the eyes that were on them right now, which was definitely not good for Marinette. He was supposed to be taking attention off of her, not adding to it. “Hey, let’s…” He finally spotted what he was looking for. “Let’s go someplace a bit quieter so we can talk, yeah?”

She examined his eyes for a few seconds before she nodded. The trust she put in him made him smile, as undeserved as it was. He gently pulled on the hand he was still holding and guided her to a curtained off VIP section he knew was unreserved. He closed the curtain behind them. It was private enough nobody would see her or bother her anymore, or more importantly, them together, but they could still hear the music from the club.

He brought her over to the personal bar in the corner of the room and moved behind the bar to pour a whiskey for himself. He motioned the alcohol around him and raised an eyebrow asking a silent question. She shook her head and took a seat at the bar. Jason took a sip and leaned against the bar. “So, what are you doing here? It’s not exactly the kind of place college students tend to frequent.”

She laughed again and God, that sound almost made it seem like there was something bright in this depraved club. “Always so concerned with why I’m places,” she teased. “But, you’re right. Normally I wouldn't. But, I was meeting with a client here.”

Jason’s hands curled into fists unintentionally. He curled them so tightly, his knuckles had turned white and his short nails were cutting into his palms. “With a client?” he asked as casually as he could manage, which was a mixed success. It was considerably less hostile than he felt, but definitely more aggressive than he intended. Because she had the right to do anything she wanted with her body, but if someone was hurting her or manipulating her, he was going to kill whoever it was.

“Yeah, remember I mentioned I'm a designer?” she answered carefully, eying his fists as she spoke. “I met her here to discuss designing a dress for her.”

Jason’s shoulders relaxed and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. He shook his head in exasperation. “Pixie… has nobody taught you survival skills for Gotham?”

She huffed in annoyance. “That's why I insisted on a public meeting place.” She motioned around them.

Jason groaned. “The Iceberg Lounge is hardly a safe meeting place. Almost nobody in here would blink an eye at somebody getting kidnapped in front of them. Hell, most of the people here would be the one doing it.”

She blinked at him a few times. “You're here,” she noted.

“I can protect myself,” he stressed, leaning over the bar closer to her.

She quirked her head to the side and leaned away from him. “And you think I can't?” She raised a challenging eyebrow at him. “Don't let the heels fool you.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I know you can. I just don't want you to have to and I don’t want you to test it if you don’t have to.”

Her brow furrowed in concern. “If it's so unsafe, what are you doing here? Aren't you worried about yourself?

Jason chuckled ruefully. “Don't worry, Pixie, nobody's worried about me, least of all me.”

“I am,” she answered softly.

Jason stared in her eyes, caught by the honesty and admiration bleeding through. His hand had cupped her cheek before he even realized it had moved. She grasped his forearm lightly and leaned into his touch. She closed her eyes when his thumb stroked her face. He frowned suddenly and pulled his hand away. He was getting too intimate. This was about protecting her, not… more. He couldn’t let this me more, no matter how captivating her eyes were.

She opened her eyes again when he pulled his hand away, but she kept her grip on his arm. “Will you dance with me?” Her voice was quiet but thick.

Jason couldn’t force himself to look away even though he knew he should. For her benefit, for her safety, he should. “I shouldn’t,” he answered, but his voice didn’t even sound sure to himself.

She smiled sweetly, and oh, that smile should be illegal. She let her hand slip along his arm until she reached his hand and tugged gently toward the open space in the room. “Come on, it’s just one dance. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Jason knew the answer to that. He knew the worst that could happen, he’d seen it. He’d lived it. But he couldn’t force himself to say no. It was just one dance. One dance then he would say goodbye. “Okay, Pixie.” His voice was huskier than he intended. “One dance.”

She wound her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She rested her head on his chest and let out a contented sigh as he pulled her close against his chest and buried his face in her hair. He could feel her skin on her bare back and it was sending tiny shocks though his fingers. They swayed together through the end of the song and into the next few, never letting go of one another or letting any space between them. It still counted as one dance, technically, they hadn’t let go or stopped moving, so it was still one.

He finally pulled away when his phone had been buzzing in his pocket for more than a minute now, which meant that something terrible must be happening in the club or on the streets. He wet his lips to say something, but didn’t know what. She beat him to it. “Thank you for the dance and for worrying about me.” She pushed up and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

He turned just as she was pulling away, his nose almost brushing against hers. He froze, his lips just centimeters from hers, close enough for her breath to fan out across his lips. He searched her eyes for something, he wasn’t sure what. Hesitance? Regret? But only found trust and affection. His eyes flicked down to her lips for just a moment. Her eyes softened at the motion.

He leaned down before he could stop himself and crashed his lips into hers, letting the feeling of her lips and her body against his wash over him, getting lost in the sensation and losing all rational thought. The only thing left was the feeling. The feeling of her lips against his and her tongue caressing his and her breasts pressed against his chest and her hips clutched in his hands.

He squeezed her hips, pulling them closer until there was no space between them. She whimpered into his mouth and he was gone. His legs felt weak from the want he suddenly felt. The desire, the NEED coursing through him. He forced himself to stop. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to force himself to later. He pressed his forehead to hers and stroked her cheeks gently. “I shouldn’t do this to you,” he murmured, his eyes still closed, just enjoying the feel of her against him.

“I liked it,” she encouraged him, her voice as smooth as silk. “I wanted you to. I still do. I’m very much thinking about doing it again.” She pushed up and captured his lips again. Her hands caressed his face and pulled it closer at the same time. She mourned the loss of his lips on hers when he pulled away until she felt his lips on her jaw and neck as he kissed a trail down her neck to her collarbone. She moaned at the new contact.

The sound knocked Jason out of his passion induced stupor. He pulled away again and swallowed heavily, gasping for breath and begging his heart to slow down to a semi normal rate. He pressed his forehead back against hers again. “God, Pixie, that sound should be illegal.”

“So should that feeling,” Marinette nodded in agreement. She pushed up to kiss him again, but he pulled away. She gave him a confused look, but didn’t press forward again.

“I’m trying to do the right thing here,” he said. His voice was almost desperate for her to understand.

She reached up and ran her fingers along his jaw before cupping his face. “If the right thing doesn’t involve you kissing me, I question your definition of right.”

He took a breath and looked at her lips again. He very much longed to kiss them again. “You don’t remember me. If you did… I wasn’t good, Pixie. I’m still not. But you, you were always good. You were always strong. You were always too good for me.”

She guided his face back to her lips. This kiss was sweet, loving. “You’re trying to look out for me. Do you know why that is?” He shook his head lightly. “Because you’re a good guy.”

Jason huffed and looked down. “I’m just not that much of an asshole.”

“I already told you,” she said lightly, urging him to look back up at her. “I don’t believe you’re a bad guy. No matter how much you try to convince me. And, if I remember you, I must not have thought you were that bad back then either.”

Jason shook his head and looked back in her eyes. “Someday I’ll tell you everything and I hope you still believe that.”

Marinette smiled at his words. They meant he anticipated a future with her, together, and one in which he trusted her enough to tell her all his secrets. She squeezed closer to his face. “I can’t wait to find out as much about you as you’ll let me see.” She wrapped her arms around his neck again, pulling him closer to her as she kissed him. He ran his fingers into her hair, holding her as he deepened the kiss.

They broke apart when someone pushed the curtain to the side. Jason had his gun pointed at him with the safety off before Marinette even saw who it was. Jason put the safety back on when he recognized his Club Manager. “What the fuck do you want?” Jason growled as he reholstered his gun. Marinette giggled and buried her now bright red face in his chest.

“We need you out front. Sorry, boss, it’s important,” he said apologetically, trying not to look at Marinette.

Jason groaned and rested his forehead on Marinette’s head. “Fine, fine.” He pulled away and gave her a placating motion. “Just, stay here, yeah? I’ll be right back. Will you wait for me?”

Marinette smiled at him. “Forever.” Jason’s eyes softened and he smiled back at her. Her smile suddenly turned sultry. “Besides, I’m not done with you.”

Jason choked and looked down at her wide eyed. A roguish grin made its way onto his face. “You might just be more dangerous than me, Pixie.” He gave her a quick kiss before following his manager through the curtain.

Chapter 5

Tags:

@jasonette-july-event @jayjayspixiepop @aespades @how-to-function-properly @pawsitivelymiraculous @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - guns

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years ago

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Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

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nat-20s · 3 years ago

Text

Wonderful! Au Part 7! (also on ao3 here) another episode only installment, and obnoxiously fluffy! Have fun!

~*~

Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.

Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?

Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.

Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.

Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-

Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-

Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-

Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.

Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.

Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?

Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.

Jon: But?

Martin:...There's no but.

Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.

Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.

Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?

Martin: Perhaps. After all,

Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!

Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!

Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.

Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?

Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.

Jon:...

Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.

Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.

Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.

Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.

Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.

Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?

Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.

Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.

Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?

Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.

Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?

Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.

Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.

Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.

Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.

Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.

Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?

Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.

Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?

Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.

Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.

Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.

Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.

Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?

Martin: Tofu!

Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?

Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-

Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.

Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.

Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright

Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-

Jon: -uh huh-

Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-

Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-

Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.

Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.

Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.

Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.

Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.

Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad.

Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.

Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.

Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?

Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.

Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!

Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.

Martin: Well...

Jon: Well, what?

Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-

Jon: What?!

Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?

Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-

Martin [only laughs harder]

Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.

Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.

Jon: Hang on, you proposed?

Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?

Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.

Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-

Jon: No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.

Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?

Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.

[An audible pause is left in the recording.]

Martin: That does not count.

Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!

Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.

Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.

Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.

Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.

Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?

Jon: Uhh..

Martin: Yes?

Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.

Martin: Okay? And?

Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.

Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.

[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]

Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.

Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.

Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.

Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.

Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.

Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.

Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.

Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.

Jon, soft: I know, love.

Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.

Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.

[Martin sighs]

Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.

Jon: Please.

Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.

Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.

Martin: That's very true. Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.

Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.

Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.

Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.

Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.

Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.

Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.

Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.

Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..

Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look.

Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.

#wonderful! au #jonmartin #tma #jon sims #martin blackwood #my fic #thank you to everyone that submitted!!!#also; i am offically out of ideas for installments #more may come later but i make no promises!

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

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hi can you write about spending a valentine’s day with gray pls?

valentine’s day smut w/ gray? + more haha sorry couldn’t put them all in

A/N: I’m sorry this is a day late. It was supposed to be 90% smut but somehow it took on a mind of its own and turned into this monster.

warnings: smut, extremely cheesy, way too long

***

It should be a given understanding that Valentine’s Day is the dumbest, most antiquated, overrated holiday that’s ever existed. That had always been your take on it, even as a little kid — the worry of spelling your classmates’ names correctly on cards imprinted with cheesy Scooby Doo and Spongebob puns; the expectation to dress up nice in the hopes you would get asked to be someone’s Valentine in the hallways of middle school; the potential embarrassment of being the only person in class who didn’t get bought one of those stupid roses from a ‘secret admirer’ in high school.

There’s simply too much pressure surrounding the idea of professing your love or even your mere fondness for anyone and everyone in your life. The fear of rejection if you do, and the judgement if you don’t. It had always made you anxious, whether you had someone to share the day with or not.

But this Valentine’s Day, as a young twenty-something, you were actually (secretly) looking forward to it. Conner was your first adult relationship, with the title of ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’ and labels and commitment. He’s cute and smart and charming and yours. So, sue you if you were quietly anticipating wearing that SavageXFenty set beneath a brand new dress while you went to dinner after being greeted at the door with roses and a box of chocolates.

And yet here you are, on February 14th, hood of your sweater drawn over your head as you rummage through your freezer with a clear target in your mind. Your eyes are blurry and swollen, but you find the pint of birthday cake Nada Moo with ease, and you slam the freezer door closed a little harder than you really mean to as soon as it’s in your grasp.

You’ve just popped the lid off when your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter where you’ve plopped down to eat your depression snack in a more acceptable place than your bed or the couch.

You see Grayson’s name accompanied by a goofy, up-close picture of him smiling filling the screen, and hesitate. He’s one of your best friends, and clearly done nothing wrong, but you’re not sure you’re capable of handling anyone of the male species right now after...everything.

At the end of the day, though, it’s Grayson. He knows heartbreak almost better than anyone, and you’ve coached him through it on more than one occasion. Maybe he can spew back some of your own advice if it comes to that.

You swipe the bar at the bottom of the screen, and your ceiling suddenly replaces the image of his silly, handsome face. “Sup?”

“Yo. Am I interrupting anything? Sorry, just remembered what day it is.”

You swallow. “Uh no, you’re not.”

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip hard, digging your spoon into the softened ice cream. Was it that obvious just from your voice that you had been upset? Or does he just know you that well?

“Nothing.”

“You sound like you’ve been crying.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. Let me see your face.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you concede. “No. I’ve been crying.”

He’s quiet, and you can’t bring yourself to look at his own face in the corner of the screen. You shove the chunk of ice cream past your lips, and after a moment he says with a softer tone, “Crying on Valentine’s Day is never a good sign.”

You’re glad that you’ve gotten so much of your tears out already, because you feel the inevitable prickle behind your eyes that would have been full-blown waterworks a few hours ago. You scoop another bite. “Conner cheated on me — has been, cheating on me. I found out last night.”

Grayson sighs your name, and something about the genuine sympathy in his voice makes you even more emotional. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. What a piece of shit.”

You shrug even though he can’t see, and sniffle past the lump in your throat. “It’s whatever. I’m still in shock more than anything. Hurts like hell, though, still. I let him have it when I saw the texts and he hasn’t tried to call me once. No texts. Nothing.”

He’s silent, but it’s that raging silence you know oh so well from him. It doesn’t happen often, but anyone who knows Grayson Dolan knows that when his volume comes down, he means business. A loud and obnoxious Grayson is a happy one, but a brooding and quiet one means serious business.

“Do you want me to go beat his ass? I’ll do it.”

A smile cracks your scowl before you know it, and you shake your head. “No thanks, Gray. As much as I’d love to see that happen, I like your face the way it is. And not on a mugshot.”

He chuckles a little, and you feel your chest lift some just hearing the familiar depth of it. “Well, do you at least want me to come over later? I totally get if you need to be alone, but I know from experience sometimes what helps the most is having good friends around.”

You’re a little surprised. “You don’t have a date?”

“Nope.”

“No one from the roster hitting you up?”

“I don’t have a roster,” he argues playfully, but you both know that’s a lie, if not at least a stretch of the truth. “And even if I did, you’re more important. Always.”

You sigh and take another bite. His words make your neck tingle and your toes wiggle, but you ignore it; your brain is full of confusion as it is. “That makes one man in my life who thinks so, I guess.”

You finally prop your phone up against the fruit basket sitting in the middle of your bar so he can see you. Grayson takes in your image, which admittedly must look kind of pathetic, and you watch his jaw clench and release in a way that you can’t deny is utterly sexy.

“Is an hour okay? Tell Vanessa to come, too.”

“Benito took her to Tulum for the weekend,” you say, referring to your best friend and her boyfriend. “She did threaten to get on a plane and come home early for me, though.”

Grayson grins crookedly, but his jaw is still tight. “Well, tell her you’re in good hands. See you in an hour?”

You give it one last quick consideration; you already feel this much better just talking to him on the phone. Nothing bad could come from him being in your apartment, and you trust him. “Yeah, that’s fine. But just so you know, I’m already at the stage of eating ice cream at 10:30 AM.”

“Did you forget you’re talking to the emotional ice cream eating champion? No judgement here.”

You finally let out a giggle, your spirits officially lifted. “I’ll see you soon.”

True to his word, Grayson arrives at your door about an hour later, his arms laden with milkshakes from Monty’s, a gift bag decorated all over with sparkly hearts, and a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You’re stunned. The only thing you’d managed to do in the time it took him to get here was take a quick shower in attempts to rid your face of some of the puffiness, throw on some shorts this time with a fresh hoodie, and toss the used tissues scattered around your place into the garbage.

Before you can say anything, he holds out the flowers. “They were out of roses. But I know you like pink.”

You reach out for them slowly, eyes wide, your fingers brushing his when you grasp the plastic wrapping. His cheeks are a similar color to the petals, and it makes both your heart and your lips smile.

“Peonies are my favorite,” you say truthfully. “And yes, especially pink ones. Thank you, Gray.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sounding relieved.

As he crosses the threshold of your door, he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can’t help but hum quietly and pull him in for a hug. “That gift better not be for me, either,” you mumble into his chest.

Grayson pulls back, his eyes sparkling, but keeps you close with an arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. “Oh, this? No, this is for my other best friend I’m trying to cheer up on Valentine’s Day.”

You slap his arm playfully, and lead him into your kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet beneath your sink for the flowers.

The bag has a few gifts in it: a new Comfy (“I remembered you ruined yours when that ketchup bottle exploded all over you the other day”); a huge bag of watermelon sour patch kids (“I know they’re your favorite. Also ice cream gives you brain freeze after the first pint or so, trust me”); and a heart shaped box of your favorite chocolates (“you can eat them or burn them, I wasn’t sure which you’d appreciate more but either is fine with me.”)

You appreciated all of it, more than he would ever understand. All you can do is fling yourself at him weakly, completely overwhelmed. “Fuck you, you’re gonna make me cry all over again.”

Grayson envelops you in those huge, muscular arms, cooing behind that laugh you love so much. “Is that a really backwards way of saying thank you?”

You grunt in affirmation, and with you still wrapped up in his arms, he starts waddling the two of you back the short distance into your living room.

“Here,” he says, coaxing you down into the blanket nest you had created on the couch. “You chill and find a movie. I’ll make popcorn.”

You do, and he does, and the next few hours are spent lounging about in your apartment. Having him here with you is doing wonders from keeping your mind from going down the paths you’d been spiraling towards ever since you saw the messages between Conner and no less than four other girls on Snapchat. You don’t believe in snooping, but finding the first one had been an accident when he received the snap while you had his phone, and your finger happened to press the icon at just the right moment.

In your eyes, though, the image of one pair of tits that weren’t your own was enough justification to see what else you could find.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m kind of relieved,” you told Grayson a while later, Shrek playing on the TV quietly. He’s sitting next to you, far enough apart for there to be couch space between the two of you, but close enough to share the oversized blanket thrown over your laps. “Obviously what he did is so fucking shitty and I’m not justifying it in any way, but I can be honest with myself now and realize I wasn’t in that relationship for the right reasons. There wasn’t anything there emotionally at the end of the day.”

“You still have every right to feel hurt by what he did, though. It’s a huge violation of trust,” Grayson assures, reaching out and squeezing your hand gently.

You squeeze back and grimace at him. “Yeah.” You let out a little mirthless laugh and shake your head, heat flooding your cheeks. “It’s so embarrassing, too. And finding out the day before Valentine’s, no less. Like, I just wanted to look cute, have a nice dinner, have some nice sex, and just... I don’t know. Have an actual Valentine’s day for once. No pressure or anxiety or anything.”

Grayson stares at you in that way he does — so intense and almost intimidating if there wasn’t a genuine warmth behind it. You’re suddenly aware of his thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly. He squeezes your fingers again.

“So, let’s do it, then. You and me.”

You arch a brow at him, smiling at the rosiness in his cheeks when he realizes what he might have implied. “The dinner part, I mean. And the dressing up. Even though I think you look plenty cute right now.”

You roll your eyes, but for the countless time that day, your heart flutters happily. Looking back, you can’t remember the last time Conner had complimented your appearance, let alone after hours of crying and lazing around in sweats, sugar crystals stuck to the corner of your lip.

“That would be great, except there’s no way we’re getting into any restaurant at this point,” you remind him. “Probably no delivery, either.”

“I’ll cook for you,” he counters, throwing the blanket off his legs and standing up with a groan. He stops to stretch, and the way his arms go over his head makes his shirt ride up at the bottom, exposing a chunk of hard muscles and golden skin.

You swallow, eyes trailing up the rest of his torso appreciatively. “I don’t have much.”

He’s already rummaging through your pantry, though, and pulls out a half-full box of pasta, a jar of marinara sauce, and a leftover chunk of sourdough bread. “You got salad stuff?”

You nod, and he opens the fridge to find some lettuce, peppers, and other salad fixings before setting them with the pasta ingredients on the counter. “Go get dressed, look as cute or not cute as you want. I’ll take care of this.”

He’s absolutely unreal. “Gray-”

Grayson holds up his hand. “Ah, no, I’m doing this. You deserve it. Also, I’m hungry. It’s a win-win.”

Your stomach growls as well, and that’s all the convincing you need. While he gets busy in the kitchen, you tidy up the living area some before heading to your room. You feel a little silly, making your third outfit change of the day, but you also like the giddiness in the pit of your belly at the thought of Grayson doing all of this for you. You might as well take advantage of having someone like him in your life. Show him some Valentine’s appreciation of your own.

You forgo the slinky red number you had planned to wear to the restaurant with Conner, and opt instead for a rather unsuspecting blouse-jeans combo, which happen to both respectively frame your tits and ass perfectly.

The lacy, bright pink set in the back of your closet might have made it beneath your clothes, though. The prettiness of it made you feel that much better, even if no one else was going to see it.

Maybe.

Padding back into your kitchen after running a flat iron through your hair and throwing on some concealer, mascara, and lip gloss, you find Grayson draining the pasta into a colander in the sink.

Grayson does a double-take when he sees you standing there admiring the flex of his bicep as he holds the pot. “Hey! You look amazing.”

“If you say so,” you joke, bumping his hip with yours as. You pass him to pull plates and bowls out of the cabinet.

“I do,” he insists quietly.

Arm outstretched mid-reach, you look over at him, locking eyes with his hazel ones. He looks a little surprised by the words that left his mouth, like he meant for them to stay inside his head. There must be some kind of challenge in your gaze, daring him to elaborate.

He busies himself with the pasta again hastily, his voice low. “Conner is a fucking idiot. To do that to you. To let you go. You don’t deserve that. Especially not today.”

Plates in hand, you rest them gently on the counter with your lower lip caught between your teeth, and peer over at this handsome man you’re so proud and lucky to call your best friend. He’s everything you thought Conner was — cute and smart and charming — but so much more — beautiful and good and kind.

And he’s been right here in front of you the whole time.

You reach out and touch his elbow softly. The hairs on his forearm are crisp but soft, and you follow them down to that gleaming watch on his wrist.

“You know,” you start quietly, fingers tracing the links of the band before flipping his hand over to trace the lines of his palm, “you keep talking about what I deserve today. But you deserve all that and more. You deserve someone’s love that matches your own.”

He watches your delicate fingers on his large, calloused palm, then trails his eyes up to yours when he feels their attention on his face. A piece of hair flops into his eyes, and you reach up without thinking or any hesitation to push it away again with a little smile playing on your glossy lips.

You look down and lay your palm flat against his, admiring the difference in size between your hands for a moment before interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you.”

Your eyes flit up to his in surprise; he beat you to the words.

“In case that wasn’t obvious,” Grayson continues, turning towards you. “And I hope that’s not too much for you to handle, with everything you’ve had hap-”

“I love you too, Gray,” you interrupt, stepping that much closer to him so you’re nearly chest-to-chest with him.

“Yeah?” He sounds almost boyish in his astonishment, and it makes you want to hold him tight and never let go.

“Yeah,” you giggle. “A lot. I’m sorry it took me getting dumped to realize it.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on your cheek gently. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod once before he’s swiftly ducking down to claim your lips with his. They’re soft and pliable, and you feel their effects from the nerves in your scalp all the way down to your bare toes.

“Grayson,” you breathe, lashes fluttering open as he pulls back just enough to look at you concernedly.

You smile, bigger and brighter than you have all day, and cup his stubbled cheeks with your hands, scratching your nails gently against his jaw. “I just wanted to say your name.”

Grayson grins now, too. He kisses you more insistently now that he’s got the taste of you on his tongue, which he flicks against the underside of your top lip as he breaks the kiss. “Say it again.”

“Make me,” you challenege, voice breathy and excited, eyes closed as you savor his sweet breath against your lips. “In my room.” You feel him tense up a bit, and you open your eyes to meet his questioning gaze, biting back a smile at the inevitable hope also shining there. “I’m sure.”

With that, Grayson hauls you up into his arms, and you wrap your legs around his waist with a squeal as he buries his face into your neck. He starts making the way to your bedroom, cooked food left long forgotten in the kitchen behind you.

“Are you wearing my signature scent?” he asks, inhaling your skin deeply.

“Mmhm,” you hum, threading your fingers through the back of his thick hair. It’s so long again, and you give the dark strands a sharp tug that makes him grunt. “Part one of my gift to you. Since you got so many for me today.”

“Part one, huh?” he says, crossing the threshold of your room. “What’s part two?”

“What I’m wearing underneath this,” you whisper in his ear, giggling loudly when he lies you down on the bed with more of a toss than he might have intended. “If you want it, that is.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind at the mere suggestion that he wouldn’t, and you take that as enough encouragement to tug at the bow tying your forest green silk wrap blouse together.

The folds part open and expose your chest, clad in that pink lace demi-cup bra with the cage detailing over the tops of your breasts. Grayson moans and dips down to nuzzle your cleavage, breathing in the scent of your warm skin. His hands trail up your sides, from your hips to your rib cage, until they settle in the dips of your waist. His touch ignites you, makes your back arch and your hips grind up against his thigh between your legs, just from the sensation of his hands on these new parts of your body.

“Grayson,” you sigh, and he smirks up at you with his chin on your tits when he realizes that’s all it took for you to say his name again.

You grab his cheeks and kiss that smugness away, shifting your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist once again, pushing down on the small of his back to get your centers to meet.

Both of you gasp into each other’s mouths when his erection rubs against your pussy, even through all the layers of clothing still on your bodies. You reach down blindly, still attacking his mouth with yours, and feel around for his belt.

His pants come off, followed by yours, and he sits you up enough to push your blouse off your shoulders rather gently considering the intensity of everything. Once the garment is tossed over his shoulder, you’re down to nothing but that pretty lingerie and he in his boxer briefs.

There’s a moment of pause and clarity for the two of you, staring into one another’s eyes as the reality hits of what you’re about to do. What it means to both of you. Grayson stares down at you, and places a hand over your rapidly thumping heart.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly, dragging his hand up your chest, over your throat, until he’s cupping you’re cheek and stroking your lip with his thumb.

You smile in return, then part your lips with your eyes locked on his, encouraging him silently to slip that digit in your mouth.

Grayson’s eyes darken, and he offers you his pointer finger instead, swallowing hard when you suck and swirl your soft, wet tongue around it.

Suddenly, he’s rolling the two of you over, switching positions so he’s on his back and you straddle him. You smile happily, taking your turn to duck down and attach your lips to the pulse point his neck, grinding down on his cock with a slow, steady rhythm.

“You’re so amazing, Gray,” you tell him, nipping at the lobe of his ear before kissing the underside of his chin. “Can’t believe you’re all mine now.”

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” he growls back, cursing when you trail your kisses down the center of his body, giving each one of those moon’s their own special attention before continuing down.

When you get to the waistband of his underwear, you trail your tongue on the edge of the elastic and watch his abs contract with each shaky breath he takes. One little move of your hands, and you’ll finally get to see what he’s really packing.

But before you can even hook your fingers there to pull down, he’s tugging on your hair. “Fuck, fuck, c’mere. Please.”

You pout, but follow his lead, licking back up his muscular torso until he’s able to drag you to him for a deep, wet kiss.

“Sit on my face,” he demands, shuffling down on the pillow to make more room for you.

That takes you off guard. “But—”

“Do it. Please. I fucking have to taste you.”

Your body must be working ahead of your brain, because before you know it, you’re straddling Grayson’s face, his tongue is sweeping through the wetness in your slit, and his dark eyes are peering up at you from between your thighs.

“Oh... oh!” you cry out when his tongue starts flicking against your clit. He goes back to swiping up all your arousal, then suctions his lips around your clit. He’s using one hand to hold the lace of your thong aside, and the other dips first one finger, then two inside of you. “Oh, fuck, that’s so good...”

Grayson moans, the vibrations erupting around your clit and sending you right to the edge already. You reach back and palm his cock, rock hard in his underwear still, and squeeze as he makes you cum all over his mouth.

He gets his fill of your cum as he groans and keeps up the motion of his fingers, the pressure of his lips, the softness of his tongue as your pussy pulses with each contraction of your orgasm. You wait for him to start letting up, but something about the way he’s working you just makes those waves stay steady rather than die down again. Maybe that’s his intention, because when you drop your head down to look at him with your mouth wet and agape, there’s a sparkling mischief in his eyes has he eats you out like his last meal.

Your hips grind against his face of their own accord, and you delve one hand in his hair while the other supports you on the headboard. You gasp out a quivering, breathless laugh as it all becomes just too much, and you try to lift off his mouth.

Grayson isn’t having it, though. He wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you down, reveling in the moans and whimpers and squeals as he makes you cum again.

“Oh my god — enough, enough, I can’t...” you whine, shoving on his forehead until he releases you and drops his head to the pillow. You could already see it by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, but he’s smirking wide, chest heaving as you slink your way down his body.

You collapse next to him in a daze, and he rolls on top of you smoothly, peppering little kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose. When you’re back in your right mind, you nudge blindly at his face so his lips find yours. He tastes like your pussy, and you sigh happily as you lift your heavy arms to wrap around his neck while his scoop beneath you, holding you close.

You continue to indulge in each other for a while, in the kisses you hadn’t been allowed to share until now. There’s something exciting about his familiarity and yet also this strange newness that has you absolutely desperate for him in every way.

“This is crazy,” you say when you pull back for air, studying his face hovering right above yours. You push back that stubborn chunk of hair that keeps falling into his eyes with a soft smile. “How did we end up here?”

Grayson turns his head to press his lips to your palm. “I don’t know. Is it too much? Should we stop?”

You shake your head vehemently, and he grins. “No, please. I think I just have to grasp that you’re really... mine now.”

He chuckles. “How do you think I felt watching you with that loser for five months?”

The mention of Conner makes you feel nothing — nothing other than gratitude for Grayson, that is. You slide your hands down his back, over his ribs, across his abs until your hand cups his dick.

His hips thrust into your touch, and you grin up at him demurely as you finally delve your hand past his waistband until you’ve got his length completely in your grasp.

He’s hot and hard and thick, and you start stroking him just to gauge the reaction in his face. He doesn’t disappoint, his jaw gaping open slightly, his breaths picking up, a flush rising to the apples of his cheeks.

Without warning, he reaches down and grasps your wrist. You pout, but he asks hastily. “Are we gonna have sex?”

You smirk. “Hell yeah.”

Grayson grins and shakes his head. “Alright, then you gotta stop.”

“Already?” you tease, letting him sit back and hook his fingers in the tiny string of your thong at your hips.

He gives you a look as he pulls the scrap of lace down your legs, then stands to push down his own underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, and you wish he’d let you blow him some before you hit the main event, but he says, “I’ve wanted you for too long to take any chances about screwing up the first time.”

You melt a little, reaching for him as he climbs back on the bed. “There should be some condoms in the drawer there. Just to be safe after... you know.”

He nods and dips down to kiss you before leaning over to riffle through the top drawer of your nightstand. He comes back with a purple square, which you take from him.

“Gotta practice an activity safely,” you wink, tearing open the condom and rolling it down his shaft quickly.

“Shut up.” Grayson rolls his eyes, but smiles softly as he settles between your legs just right. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you whisper, gasping as he starts to sink inside you.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpers as your walls suck him in and grip him tight.

He goes slow for a couple of minutes, allowing both of you time to adjust to each other. He stretches you out so much better than anyone you’ve ever been with, and you can’t help but clench around him when you see those tattoos and smell his cologne and hear his voice — all things that remind you that this is Grayson fucking you.

He growls the first time you do it, then sits up hastily, pulling his face out of your neck when you do it again. He tucks his knees beneath him, sits on his heels, and hauls your hips into his lap as the speed of his thrusts picks up incrementally. Until he’s fucking you for real, and your tits bounce in your bra with every upstroke.

You shove an arm beneath your pillow, enunciating the curves of your body, and watch his expressions as he fights to hold back. His hair is disheveled, lip caught tight between his teeth and muffling his deep, satisfied sounds that mingle with your open higher-pitched ones. He catches your eye and his hands on your hips grip you so tight for a moment that you’re sure little bruises will be there in the morning — not that you mind.

“Fuck,” he whispers harshly before slowing his hips and shifting down to give you a deep, sloppy kiss. “Turn over.”

You moan into his mouth, then follow his order, rolling onto your front as soon as he pulls out. You expect him to haul your hips up into the air, but he moves your hair off your neck and trails sweet kisses from shoulder to shoulder, his hand sweeping down the subtle curve of your back until he’s gripping your ass.

Grayson’s hand moves down your thigh and pushes it up and out once he’s cupping the back of your knee. The angle encourages you to twist your upper half until you have sight of him once again in all his angled, sweaty, muscular glory.

“Fuck me, baby,” you beg him, already anticipating the fullness inside you again. Needing it.

“Want me to fuck you?” he asks needlessly, pushing into your pussy once again. You moan loudly, either in confirmation or from pure pleasure, it doesn’t matter. The angle is tighter, the tip of his dick hitting a spot so perfectly accurate inside of you that you can’t concentrate on anything other than how good he’s making you feel. “Yeah. So fucking sexy. So beautiful...”

“Gray.. oh fuck yes, right there,” you whimper, catching onto his arm as he leans over you and gives you those hard, steady strokes.

“Open your eyes, baby, lemme see them when you cum,” he growls out.

You open them as much as you can, your vision blurry, but you can still make out those handsome features soaking in the pleasure on your face. Watching and waiting for you to get yours so he can get his.

As soon as you’re clenching like a vice around him, Grayson is letting go into the condom. You can vaguely feel the throb of him as he cums in spurts, the sound of his masculine, drawn-out groans making you shiver and tense up even more on his dick. If it’s possible for anyone to sound as sexy as they look, Grayson achieves that in spades.

He collapses on the bed next to you, and you have just enough strength to roll over until he’s got you gathered in his arms. You nuzzle into his chest and try to process everything. You had been hoping for nice sex today, and instead you got the best sex of your life.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence while you both catch your breath, after he pulls and ties off the condom, you smile into his cooling skin with a satisfied sigh.

“Thank you for making this the best Valentine’s Day of my life. Especially after it was starting to look like the worst.”

“You made this the best day of my life, period,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Gray.”

#the relief i have in finishing this lmao #im sorry its a day late this took way more effort than i thought it would #dolan twins #grayson dolan #smut #blurb #g blurb

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sisterspooky1013 · 4 years ago

Text

Better Than Sex

Author: SisterSpooky1013

Rating: Teen and up

Words: 1666

Tagging: @today-in-fic

Read it on AO3

“Better Than Sex Cake” Mulder read aloud from the menu before looking across the table at Scully with his eyebrows raised in question.

They had just concluded an evening traipsing through an (alleged) actual ghost town, though no signs of ghosts were to be seen. Just a lot of graffiti, dirty mattresses and a used condom or two. Now they were sitting at the first diner they came across, Mo’s Café, and Mulder was considering the sex cake.

“Knock yourself out, Mulder, I’m sticking to coffee.”

“You aren’t curious as to whether this cake is, in fact, better than sex?”

“Well I’m sure it’s better than bad sex, but if it were better than great sex the population would die out because everyone would skip procreating and just eat cake.”

Mulder considered her statement. “Isn’t ‘bad sex’ somewhat of an oxymoron?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Are you being serious?”

Now it was his turn to look incredulous. “The only bad sex is no sex, as far as I’m concerned.”

Scully shook her head ruefully. “Must be nice to be a man.”

Just then the waitress came by to take their order. Scully requested coffee and dry toast, while Mulder opted for coffee and the aforementioned sex cake. After she collected their menus and retreated to the kitchen, Mulder eyed Scully appraisingly, gaging her mood. Sometimes she was open and willing to talk about things of a personal or private nature, other times she kept her lips as tight as a steel trap. He suspected he might have a chatty Scully on his hands, and didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, Scully, there would be a circumstance under which you would choose a piece of cake over sex?”

She screwed up her mouth a little, not in consideration of how to answer the question, but whether to answer it at all. “Depends who the sex is with, I suppose, but yes, I could think of a few times where cake would have been a more enjoyable option.”

“Hm” was his only reply as he sat back against the seat of the booth, absorbing this information.

“Are you saying you’ve never had sex that was subpar enough that cake would have been better?”

He pulled in a deep breath and looked to the ceiling briefly, and she could imagine him running through his mental file of sexual encounters. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Is it wrong that I feel compelled to kick you right now?” She asked, just a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He laughed.“I’m not saying that every single time was Oscar-worthy, but even the worst was still better than some flour and butter.”

“And they say male privilege isn’t real” she deadpanned as the waitress came by to present them with two coffees, cake, toast and a tray of sugar and cream. She mixed the accoutrements into her cup while Mulder sipped his black, followed by a bite of the cake, which looked like a basic white cake with some kind of custard and whipped cream on top.

“This is pretty good, though I can’t say it lives up to its name” he said around the food in his mouth, pushing the plate towards her and holding out the fork suggestively. She took it and stabbed a small bite, meeting Mulder’s eye as she pulled the tines from between her lips. It was good, as most cake is, but nothing to write home about.

“Well?” He asked expectantly.

“Well what? She returned, wiping her finger at the corners of her mouth.

“Is it better than sex?”

She paused before answering, knowing that Mulder was going to keep picking at this until it got uncomfortable. He liked to do that, to see how far he could get her to go before she blushed and demanded they change the subject. He took immense pleasure in making her squirm, and even more in getting her to reveal something personal that he normally wouldn’t be privy to. Sometimes, she had as much fun indulging him as he did in goading her. She wasn’t above sharing something that she knew would shock him, just so she could see the look on his face. She liked that she could still surprise him.

“Not better than all sex, but certainly better than some of the sex I’ve had, regrettably.”

“What would make sex so bad that cake is better? I must know.”

“I think you can use your imagination, Mulder.”

“Come on, Scully, you could be saving some poor woman from ‘worse than cake’ sex with me in the future. Consider it an act of charity.”

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at her lips.

“Your answer lies in that drawer full of tapes that aren’t yours, Mulder.”

“How’s that?”

“Let’s see, sex starts when the man presents his erection and ends when he ejaculates. The woman howls like an animal no matter what he’s doing, though her orgasm is never mentioned. There is no foreplay. Would you like me to continue?”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee he’d been holding, afraid he might choke. He’d never heard her speak so openly about sex before, especially not sex she had personally experienced, and though he’d been the one who initiated the conversation he was suddenly afraid he was going to have to walk out of this diner trying to hide a bulge in his slacks.

“Fair enough, Scully, but porn isn’t real. It’s like an action movie. No one actually hangs off the skids of a helicopter mid-air, it’s just fun to watch.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’re aware of that, Mulder, and I would implore you to spread the news to the rest of the male populace.” She punctuated her statement with a loud crunch into her toast.

Mulder’s mouth fell open slightly as he studied her, trying to tell if she was joking or embellishing.

“People really do that? Have sex like they do in porn? Men you’ve slept with?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mulder, if you’re going to sit here and tell me that you have never done that, even as a young man, I’ll have to call BS.”

He put his hands up in defense. “I’m not saying I emerged from puberty as Don Juan, but I don’t recall ever not being invested in my partner’s experience. I’m sure my skills were lacking at the outset, but I always tried.”

She looked at him derisively from under her eyelashes. “Well then, you really should get out there more, Mulder. Share your gift with the world.” Her voice was laden with sarcasm.

He laughed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. “How am I coming out to be the bad guy, here Scully? I’m not the one who gave you a ‘worse than cake’ lay.”

She smiled at him but her tone remained facetious “of course not, you’ve demonstrated that your skills in this area are unparalleled.”

“Damn straight!” He said with a slap of his palm on the table, and they both erupted into laughter.

They held eye contact as the laughter subsided, awkwardness descending over the conversation. He had made reference to the two of them having sex, which was a topic he’d only made innuendo about, never mentioned directly. Trying to break the tension, Scully finally spoke.

“Well, I guess you can see why I don’t bother dating.”

“I guess I can” he replied, swiping the last crumbs of cake off the plate with his finger.

“Why don’t you date, Mulder?” His expression registered surprise. “Or do you? I don’t want to be presumptuous.” She felt a pit in her belly at the idea that he may actually have a secret love life.

“No” he spat out, chuckling a little. “No, I definitely don’t date. It’s just too complicated I guess. I’m kind of a serial monogamist anyway.”

“Really?” Now it was her turn to be surprised.

“Yeah, for the most part. I’ve had a couple flings, but the vast majority of the women I’ve slept with I was in a relationship with. The emotional aspect is important for me.”

She studied him, imagining a version of Mulder who would be so considerate and giving. She didn’t need to imagine it, really, she’d seen it. While he was capable of being selfish and obtuse, he had also been incredibly tender and caring with her on many occasions. He had certainly shown a proclivity towards chivalry; opening doors for her, walking closer to traffic on the sidewalk, helping her into her coat or holding an umbrella for her. The idea that such gestures would extend into the bedroom was logical, but it still set off a stirring in her belly. In what other ways might he be so attentive to her needs? She swallowed the last of her coffee and tried not to think about it. Maybe later, but not here. Not now.

“Well, I hate to state the obvious here, Scully, but I don’t think you’re going to happen across the guy that will give you a 5-star experience if you never put yourself out there.” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to kick himself; why the fuck was he encouraging her sleeping with other people?

She smiled demurely and shrugged “for now I get my thrills from ghost busting and the occasional slice of really good cake.”

He bobbed his head and smiled back, pulling out his wallet and setting his bureau credit card on the tabletop.

In truth, she had already happened across that guy. He was sitting in front of her at a shitty diner in the middle of nowhere. And while she hoped that she may enjoy that 5 star experience in the future, for now just being in his presence, laughing and seeking the answers to the mysteries of the universe together, that was better than sex.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #xf fanfic

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