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damedechance · 1 year

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Watch Me Fall Apart

ACOTAR Writing Circle - Part 3

Read on AO3: Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Tumblr: Pt 1, Pt 2 (3/3)

Keep reading below for all of Part 3!

The ACOTAR Writing Circle is an event organized by @azrielshadowssing where several writers each start a fic, and then pass it off to someone else for the second and third parts. Please go to her page for more information, and to see the masterlist so that you can read all of the fics! This is the FINAL PART so all of the fics should be updated and completed soon if you want to binge <3

For Part 3, I am continuing the fic started by @azrielshadowssing and continued by @headcanonheadcase!! You guys have no idea how much I love medical dramas, so this was definitely very exciting to me.

Pairing: Nessian Word Count: 8.4k (~20k total) Rating/Warnings: E (explicit content, mentions of workplace harassment, depictions of medical procedures and traumatic injury) Summary: Nesta and Cassian are the top residents in their hospital, and they're competing for the same specialty. The tension between them is always high, but is it really because they hate each other?

Continue reading below the cut for all of part 3! Or scroll up and read on AO3 :)

PART THREE

The air snapped– abruptly shifted from nothing into this rigid, stale force that pressed up against her chest and prickled over her skin until she couldn’t even stand to breathe it in. Nesta felt her hackles raise, every muscle tensed with unease. She’d been filled with dread earlier, but it quickly evaporated, leaving behind an empty void right at the center of her chest.

She knew what it looked like.

Cassian’s expression all but confirmed her suspicions–his face twisted into a horrible scowl as his gaze darted from Rayer’s still outstretched hand to the spot where it rested on her lower back.

It looked like Nesta was cozying up to an attending to receive his favor. In some witless plan to get first pick on all of the best cases, or to receive special treatment in the OR. Maybe he’d throw her some solo cases or let her hold the retractor while he worked on a delicate procedure. At the bare minimum, she’d be guaranteed to breeze through her intern year. But give it some time, and maybe at the end of her residency he’d toss her a few bread crumbs. A recommendation letter, or a fellowship, or– hey– maybe even an illustrious research position.

That was what it looked like.

It was what everyone would think, anyway. What Nesta couldn’t blame Cassian for thinking, even though she knew that if he even bothered to look at her face, he’d see the truth she was so desperately trying to convey with her gaze.

Even if he did read the explanation in her eyes, he’d have to actively fight against every other, far easier explanation to believe her. And their track record didn’t necessarily afford her any benefit of the doubt. Prior to that night at the bar, she and Cassian had been at each other’s throats for any scrap of an advantage over the other.

And after the way she had treated him this morning? She couldn’t blame him if he dismissed her.

It was irrational, and exhausting, and so entirely unfair, but Nesta felt fury rise white hot through her veins, anyway.

Because really, what did Cassian have to angry about? What right did he have to bear that indignant expression? Even if she was hooking up with her attending, Cassian held no claim over her. No reason to look so furious, especially after hooking up only a handful of times. He had no right , and it was not fair, not fair, not fair.

If he would just look at her, he’d see all of that.

But Cassian didn’t, and the moment passed so quickly that it was almost as if Nesta had imagined it. Except she could still feel the fire of her outrage, and still had to suppress the way she was nearly shaking from it.

Only, Cassian simply continued his stride towards them, as if he had never been stalled in the first place. Rayer turned to watch his approach as he realized belatedly that Cassian had appeared. Nesta opened her mouth, prepared to defend herself, but Cassian spoke before she had the chance.

“Collapse on a construction site,” Cassian announced bluntly, and Nesta felt herself deflating instantly. “Multiple traumas en route. Dr. Odell asked me to come get you personally, since the nurses’ station is so backed up with admissions. It’s all hands on deck.”

Cassian didn’t stop walking, not even as he delivered the news, and for a wild moment Nesta thought that he would collide with either herself or Rayer, causing them to tumble to the floor. But instead, Cassian pushed forward, right in between them, forcing Rayer to step back.

Nesta watched with a detached sort of curiosity as Rayer’s hand fell from where it had been pressed into her back, and then clenched into a fist at his side.

And then her head snapped up, and Nesta began jogging after Cassian. Clearly, he meant to be followed.

“How many?” Nesta asked breathlessly. She shook her head in an effort to obtain some sort of clarity. “What’s their status?”

Pulling her thoughts into even a semblance of order was a hopeless endeavor, apparently, because Nesta couldn’t seem to rid herself of that murky fog. The half-thoughts and lingering feelings of dread and outrage. She raced down the hall right behind Cassian, but she might as well have been on a completely different plane with how scrambled her mind was. Bouncing around from trying to recall the complications of combined chemo and radiation on tumor resections for Mrs. Green, to the way her skin crawled when Rayer placed his hand on her, how much she wished she had thought to grab breakfast, Cassian’s bedsheets– none of it was useful to her, now.

She was only vaguely aware of Rayer following after them.

“Seven, so far,” Cassian said, and he must have answered her immediately, but it felt like it had been years since she’d even asked the question. Seven traumas. “All construction workers recovered from the field. Two coded on transport, probably DOA. The others are a mixed bag, and one is still being extracted from the site. Odell said to expect crush injuries, blunt head trauma, lots of lacerations.”

They reached the end of the hall, and Cassian threw his arm out to shove open the door to the stairwell. He stood to the side, allowing Nesta to rush through first.

“It’s gonna be a long day,” Cassian said, catching her eye as she brushed past him.

Nesta pressed her lips together, and then turned away rather than respond. She was already halfway down the first set of stairs when she realized that she didn’t hear anyone following behind her. She paused with her hand on the railing, and twisted around to look back up to the doorway.

Cassian stood, easily filling the threshold with his broad frame, and effectively blocking Rayer from making his way through.

“Odell only mentioned getting Archeron,” Cassian said, so smoothly that it could only have been a lie. “I’m sure they would have paged you if they needed you.”

Rayer visibly bristled. “All hands on deck, right?”

At this, Nesta raised her eyebrows. His tone held thinly veiled distaste, but Nesta had always assumed Cassian to be a favorite amongst the attendings.

Rayer continued, “Non-emergent surgeries will likely be pushed, and the ER is going to be flooded with head injuries. You’re going to need me.”

“Just following orders,” Cassian said coolly.

It was almost unsettling, the way Cassian–a measly intern–had somehow amassed enough authority in such a narrow doorway to have his superior trying to justify his own utility in a trauma room. She couldn’t see Cassian’s face, but she wondered if it was just as impassive as his voice, or if it betrayed the animosity he clearly felt.

And then two pagers chirped–hers and Rayer’s–and effectively sliced through the tension. Nesta didn’t have to look to see that it was a 911 from the pit.

“Come on,” Nesta said. She turned and continued her descent without another glance towards the others. She called over her shoulder, “We don’t have time for this.”

Whatever silent agreement they came to, it was none of Nesta’s business as Cassian and Rayer fell into step behind her. They followed her down the rest of the stairs, and when she opened the door, it was Cassian’s hand that shot out to hold it open for her again, as if he was purposely putting himself between her and Rayer.

If she had the time, she might have tried to understand why he was so insistent on keeping them separated. She might have pored over the image of him stepping between them in the hallway, might have played back that look he had given her as they entered the stairwell. She’d have gone over it, again and again , to try to discern the direction of his hatred.

But as it was, Nesta didn’t have the time. Because as she approached the ER, she could see that it was already packed, and that they desperately needed more doctors.

Two of the trauma rooms were already occupied, and she could hear the monitors and the voices of her colleagues from within them–their tones urgent and even a bit anxious. Curtains were drawn around three of the trauma beds, but might as well have been left open from how frequently the nurses and residents kept passing through them. The registrars were simultaneously answering the phones and handing out tablets to the doctors that came to respond to the crisis. And in the corner, nurses helped some of the other interns into their PPE, all while other medical staff filtered in and out of the ER with gauze and IVs and suture kits.

Organized chaos, in the most awful and amazing sort of way.

Rayer, for all of his far more disturbing and even revolting qualities, was still an experienced surgeon. He was unencumbered by the greenness that still afflicted Nesta and the rest of the interns. The apprehension that kept them lingering on the edges of the room awaiting orders instead of jumping straight into the fray. Rayer had already switched out his lab coat for a gown, and was putting on his gloves as he walked up to one of the trauma beds to examine a patient.

Nesta was glancing over to where red lights were flashing in from outside, casting odd shapes on the walls, when she felt Cassian’s hand on her elbow.

“Nes–”

Nesta shrugged him off.

“How about this?” she said as she began making her way towards where Madja, one of the trauma nurses, was helping Emerie into a gown and gloves. Jurian and Lucien were already walking away, each headed to their own case. “We’ll each get assigned to a different case, and we won’t have to talk to each other for the rest of the day. Deal?”

It was harsh. And she’d already established that it was unfair, but Nesta knew that if she had any hope at all of getting through this next case–whatever it might be–she had to push Cassian out of her mind completely. He had already been enough of a distraction during the aneurysm–her first aneurysm as lead surgeon–and she didn’t need another one, now. She didn’t need his concern, ire, or pity.

She needed nothing.

Especially not Rayer, or the way he tried to catch her eye from over the bed of his patient. He was standing over a victim of blunt force trauma to the skull, and still he was trying to get to her.

Thankfully, Dr. Odell appeared then, and he walked right in front of Emerie, Nesta, and Cassian–effectively cutting off Rayer’s view of her.

“Emerie, you’re needed in procedure room two,” Dr. Odell announced, sounding impossibly bored. He already had blood all over the front of his scrubs, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Nesta realized that if Odell was free now, it must have meant that one of the patients that had already coded in the ambulance was pronounced dead.

She watched, feeling oddly numb, as Emerie walked off.

“Late,” Odell said, admonishing both her and Cassian before he continued. “Archeron, you’re needed in–”

“Odell,” Rayer suddenly called. Odell turned at the interruption, allowing Rayer back into view. Nesta glared towards him, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from continuing. “If you can spare one of your interns, my patient needs burr holes.”

It was clearly meant to be an enticing offer. Something that the Nesta and Cassian from only a couple of days ago would have fought each other tooth and nail for. Because Rayer stood leaning over the patient’s bedside, tucking his penlight back into his pocket as someone came in with an electric razor, and another nurse prepared the drill.

Rayer’s eyes lifted, and he looked directly at Nesta. Expectant.

“I’ll do it,” Cassian offered suddenly. He finished putting on his gloves, and before anyone could protest, he walked forward to accept the drill from the nurse.

“I guess that leaves you to trauma two with Dr. Long,” Odell said, patting Nesta on the shoulder perfunctorily. As though he were trying to console her over some grave loss. “Better luck next time. Page your resident if you need anything–I have to prep for the next rig.”

Clearly, it wasn’t Nesta who was in charge of her own limbs as she made her way through the chaos towards trauma two. It must have been some unseen force, some mystical wind that pushed her along, because she was too busy trying to erase the image of Rayer’s irritated expression from her mind. She muttered her thanks as a nurse held open the door for her, and then blinked as she took in the scene.

One final thought rose up out of the fog, before she smothered everything down to make room for the scene in front of her: Why would Cassian do that?

“Dr. Archeron,” came the voice of Dr. Long, disdainful and unimpressed, as always. “Nice of you to finally join us.”

Inwardly, Nesta flinched. Dr. Amren Long was notorious for her cold demeanor and downright sadistic treatment of the interns. She was irredeemably cruel, but somehow her caustic tone was exactly the right thing to shock Nesta back into herself. To remind her that she was a doctor–a surgeon– and that there was a patient on the table.

Even as the monitors droned, and people bumped into her shoulders in their haste to replace blood bags and administer medications, Nesta found a perverse sort of calm. Relief, even.

“Patient’s status?” Nesta said in lieu of greeting. Dr. Long wasn’t known to be a fan of niceties or paltry excuses. Even if she made the effort to apologize, Amren still would find Nesta to be incompetent.

There were numerous bodies crowded around the bed, but Nesta could make out the faces of one of the ortho attendings and Jurian–who was apparently assisting him on the case–as she approached Dr. Long where she was positioned near the patient’s head. He was wearing a cervical collar and had an obvious gash above his brow.

Dr. Long held out her penlight to Nesta. She accepted it, and as Nesta examined the patient’s pupillary response, Dr. Long spoke in that eternally unaffected tone.

“Thirty-nine year old male presents with crush injuries to both lower extremities and pelvis,” Amren said. “Suspected pelvic fracture with venous injury. Ortho requested neuro consult due to open head injury and loss of consciousness in the field. GCS of five upon admission with slowed pupillary response–”

“We need you to clear him for surgery,” the ortho attending, Dr. Sprague, said.

Amren’s gaze drifted over to him, clearly displeased at having been cut off. Without making eye contact with Nesta, she said, “What is your recommendation, Doctor?”

“I’ll bring him up to CT,” Nesta replied, already handing back the penlight and making her way towards the exit. She knew Dr. Long typically preferred her residents to take action instead of waiting around for approval.

“Inspired,” Amren said, voice dripping with derision. The nurses began to prepare the patient for transport as Amren stepped down from her stool and headed towards the exit. “Page me when you’re done, Archeron.”

“Right,” Nesta muttered, standing aside to allow the nurses to wheel the patient out. Evidently, Dr. Long didn’t hear her–or didn’t care to–because she was already at the registration desk, holding her hand out to accept another tablet for a different patient.

As Nesta jogged to catch back up to her patient, the ortho attending stepped out of the room, Jurian closely behind him.

“Stay with her,” Dr. Sprague ordered Jurian. Judging by the way he snapped off his gloves, he was clearly irritated at having his surgery delayed. “Page me the second the patient is out of CT. That pelvic injury can’t wait for long.”

“Yes, Doctor,” Jurian said. He shared a knowing look with Nesta as Sprague walked away. Together, they marched off after their patient towards CT.

Dr. Long might have been unsettling, and Dr. Sprague standoffish, but they were both such a welcome reprieve from the distraction that had previously affected her, that it brightened her mood considerably. And as they waited for the radiologist to complete the CT, even Jurian’s company was blissfully silent, likely due to his disappointment at not being able to land a date with Vassa the previous night. It was almost enough to allow her to relax, if not for the fact that their patient was in such a dire state.

As the nurses helped the patient out of CT and prepped him for the OR, Nesta paged Dr. Long and waited for the scans to come up. Jurian waited beside her, cursing when he saw the pelvic scans. The patient had an anterior-posterior compression fracture with injury to the internal iliac, and was bleeding into his pelvis. As Jurian ducked out to call Dr. Sprague and the OR, Amren stepped into the booth.

“What do you see?” Amren asked as she looked over the radiologist’s shoulder. Together, they clicked through each slice of the head CT.

“Minor cerebral edema without the presence of a bleed,” Nesta said. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall. “It’s possible the bleed is so small that the CT hasn’t picked up on it yet, so he’ll need monitoring while he’s in surgery for the pelvic fracture. Repeat CT after he’s out of the OR. But as long as intracranial pressure goes down, it won’t be surgical.”

“And?” Amren asked. She looked over her shoulder, lips downturned in a very displeased line. Nesta was forgetting something.

Nesta paused, momentarily at a loss as she racked her brain for any other solution. Dr. Long might have been short–downright tiny , even–but her presence was so foreboding that Nesta had to fight back a chill.

“Um,” Nesta said. “Pharmacologic management. Acetazolamide to reduce the production of cerebrospinal fluid.”

“Astounding,” Amren jeered. “See to that, won’t you?”

Nesta jumped up. It wasn’t so much an attempt to block Amren’s exit as it was a knee-jerk reaction, but Amren halted before she reached the door, anyway.

“Something else, Dr. Archeron?” Amren asked.

“Nothing,” Nesta said gruffly. Unsure herself, even, of why she seemed so reluctant to let Amren go.

Amren sighed. “Walk with me, Doctor. You might have the luxury of time to waste on pointless conversations, but I’m needed back in the ER. You can accompany me as they prep your patient for surgery.”

Nesta followed Amren helplessly out the door and into the hallway.

“Dr. Long,” Nesta began. “I’d be grateful if–”

Amren abruptly turned around, forcing Nesta to a screeching halt. And even though she towered over the woman, Nesta couldn’t help but feel just a speck of trepidation at the sight of the fury in Amren’s eyes. Nesta gritted her teeth.

“It may not be as flashy as performing a burr hole procedure at bedside,” Amren began, her voice measured. “But this is a teaching hospital, and I do believe there is merit in learning the basics before being allowed to run rampant all over the hospital, being allowed to assist in highly complicated procedures. It’s easy to mistake yourself for a god when you’re holding a scalpel, but it’s my job to ensure you children don’t forget you aren’t infallible.”

Amren took a deep breath, and Nesta bit down on her tongue to keep from lashing out at her in the pause.

“If you’d like to abandon your patient in the interest of basking in some fleeting moment of glory,” she said, “be my guest, Dr. Archeron. I’m sure Dr. Rayer would set a fine example for you.”

Nesta paled at the mention of Rayer. In her cozy little bubble of the radiologist’s suite, she’d almost forgotten about him.

Almost.

“That’s…” Nesta sucked in a breath. “Not what I was going to say.”

Amren stared at her for a second longer, head tilting to the side as she studied Nesta’s expression. She must have discovered something, because then Amren was stalking back down the hallway and throwing a door open.

“Get in,” Amren said, ushering Nesta into the on-call room. “We have patients waiting.”

As the door clicked closed behind them, Nesta managed to summon the presence of mind to check that the room was empty, this time.

“Out with it,” Amren said as soon as Nesta turned back to face her.

“Out with what?” Nesta said.

She expected to receive more of Amren’s impatience, or even her ridicule. Something that would give Nesta all of the vindication she needed in order to be sure of her decision not to tell her anything about Rayer. Because if she hadn’t been able to tell Emerie, or Cassian, or even confront Rayer himself–there was no way that she’d tell Amren.

Except Amren didn’t ridicule her. And she didn’t require any explanation, at all.

“Dr. Rayer is worthless,” Amren said plainly. “Both in and out of the OR. And I don’t think I’d be entirely out of bounds if I informed you that he’s recently accepted a position as Chief of Surgery at a rival hospital.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped before she could catch herself. “And why are you telling me this?” she managed to grind out.

“Because you can’t go wrong, either way,” Amren said, shrugging. “Either you report him, and he loses his new, highly sought after position and is brought to justice for his actions. Or he leaves in only a few weeks, and you’ll be free of him, regardless.”

Nesta scrubbed her hand down her face as she tried to make sense of everything.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Because I interviewed for the same position,” Amren said disinterestedly. “Do what you want, Dr. Archeron. I’m only offering you the information.”

“No, I mean–”

Nesta stopped herself. Amren knew what she meant, that much was clear.

How do you know what he did?

“Don’t waste too much more time,” Amren said. Nesta's mind reeled, trying to figure out whether she meant wasting time getting to her patient, or waiting time on reporting Rayer. She opened the door, and the light from the hallway spilled into the room as Nesta’s ears filled with the din of the hospital once again. “I expect a page from you if our patient’s status changes.

Nesta nodded. “Yes, Dr. Long.”

Nesta allowed herself only fifteen seconds in the relative privacy of the on-call room after Amren left. Fifteen seconds to pull herself together and mentally reframe the previous conversation in a way that made sense. It was likely that Dr. Rayer had a history of harassment, and that it had been whispered about in the halls of the hospital. It wasn’t too surprising that Dr. Long had heard of it.

What was more unbelievable was why Amren, of all people, would try to help Nesta. Because Amren always appeared so unaffected, had always staunchly rejected any of her colleagues' attempts at anything even approaching personal. It was such a rare moment of compassion that the only thinking that made sense to Nesta was that Amren wanted Rayer’s reputation to be so thoroughly tarnished that the rival hospital had no choice but to offer the open position to Amren, instead. Either that, or for their hospital to fire Rayer, leaving the position of Chief of Neurosurgery to Amren.

Right, Nesta thought. That must have been it.

The rest of the morning and even the afternoon was spent sitting on a stool in the OR. Nesta carefully monitored the patient’s vitals and intracranial pressure, periodically ordering more medication, as Jurian and Dr. Sprague performed transarterial embolization to control the pelvic bleed, and then stabilized the fracture with an external fixator. Thankfully, the patient made it out of surgery in stable condition with no signs of worsening edema.

“Fine work,” Amren said when Nesta provided her with the update. “If you aren’t too busy next week, I think I could be convinced to allow you onto my service.”

That was as close as a compliment as Nesta thought she would ever receive from Amren, but it did little to deter her from actually being excited at the thought of studying under her.

After Nesta showered, she found the halls to be mostly empty. Her cohort must have been busy in their own ORs, looking after their own patients, and after a quick check in with the ER, Nesta found that the worst of that morning’s emergency was over. There were no more cases for her to pick up, especially now that non-emergent surgeries had been pushed to allow for the trauma cases.

Nesta finished her charting leisurely, humming to herself as she worked.

And she continued humming the same tune on her walk to the HR office.

***

“They offered to send one of their lawyers,” Nesta relayed to Emerie.

After the events of that day, Nesta had trudged home, fully expecting to land face first on her bed and sleep through the entire weekend. Only, Emerie and Gwyn–their other roommate–had kidnapped her for an impromptu feast of sweets and other various junk food, effectively forgoing a more nutritious dinner.

Laying sprawled out on their living room floor, buried beneath mountains of blankets and throw pillows, the three of them dined on ice cream and potato chips as rain began to pour down outside. It fell in sheets, and the sound was so soothing that Nesta had begun to tell her friends everything without second guessing it.

“Yeah?” Emerie asked. “Did you want one?”

Nesta nodded through a yawn. “I thought it couldn’t hurt.”

“How was the conversation with the Chief?” Gwyn asked. She shoved another handful of popcorn in her mouth, and Nesta couldn’t help but snort at the sight of the elegant Gywn rather inelegantly stuffing her face.

“It was fine,” Nesta said, shrugging. “He definitely heard me out, but I could tell he was pissed.”

Emerie raised up on her elbows, looking down at Nesta. “At you?”

“No.” Nesta shook her head, which was enough to calm Emerie, who flopped back down onto her throw pillow. “At Rayer. Him and the lawyer explained to me what the process would be. At first they said there wasn’t much they could do, since it was just the one incident–”

“But it wasn’t just one!” Gwyn exclaimed, clearly outraged.

“Let me finish,” Nesta said. A smile rose up over her lips, and it felt odd to be so happy at her best friend’s indignance, but the results of her afternoon had left her with a strange sense of levity. “At first they said there wasn’t much they could do. But I think Dr. Long must have gotten through to some of the other interns and workers at the hospital, because before I even left the office, four other women came in to tell the Chief the exact same thing.”

Emerie’s lip curled up in distaste. “That man is such a fucking pig.”

“Yeah,” Nesta agreed. “But now, with five corroborating stories, they said they would have to terminate Rayer.”

Nesta grinned as she accepted the hugs from either side of her. Even with Gwyn’s hair in her mouth, Nesta couldn’t help but feel glad. The system was broken, and today was only a very small , personal victory, but it was a victory, nonetheless. And it was such a luxury to just allow herself to enjoy the company of her friends.

“Effective immediately,” Nesta finished as soon as her friends were done hugging her.

“He deserves much worse than that,” Emerie said. “But I’m glad something came out of today. How are you feeling, Nes?”

Nesta sighed, and then sat up to begin clearing up the mess caused by their junk food party.

“Relieved,” she said earnestly. “I mean, the lawyer said we definitely have some options about how we want to move forward with things–and who knows how that will go–but I feel like a big weight has been lifted. I only wish I could have seen the look on his face when he got told the news.”

Gwyn hopped up to help Nesta with collecting some of the chocolate wrappers.

“I hope he cried,” Gwyn said, smiling at the thought.

“Maybe,” Nesta allowed.

Emerie was the last to rise up from their nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, and was just about to say something when they heard someone knocking on their front door from over the sound of the rain.

Nesta frowned, her brows drawing together. She shoved her armful of wrappers and empty ice cream containers into Emerie’s hands. “I’ll get it,” she said.

Striding over to the door, Nesta only allowed herself a brief wipe of her wrist over her mouth to ensure there wasn’t any chocolate stuck to the corners of her lip before swinging the door open.

“Cassian?” Nesta asked, blinking as she realized who it was.

“Nes,” he said, almost sighing as he caught sight of her. His shoulders sagged in relief. “I just got out of the OR. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Nesta said. She stepped aside to allow Cassian in. His hair was dripping wet, landing in dark curls right above his shoulders, and his clothes were soaked all the way through. “Did you run here?”

Cassian shook his head. “I drove. But it took me a few minutes of pacing outside your door before I made up my mind to actually knock.”

“To make up your…” Nesta trailed off. “Cassian, why the hell are you here?”

“I came to check on you.” Cassian awkwardly shook out his hair as he glanced sheepishly up at her. A droplet of water landed on her shoulder, and Nesta slapped a hand up against it as if it would stop the feeling of warmth that bloomed within her as the water settled into her skin. “But as soon as I got here, I realized you might not want anyone to check on you. Least of all, me.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Nesta insisted.

“I know,” Cassian said. A crease appeared between his brows as he frowned, and his voice pitched low. “I should have, Nesta. I tried to do what I could, but I know it wasn’t enough, and I’m sorry.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta saw Gwyn and Emerie lingering near the edge of the living room sofa. Sighing, Nesta grabbed Cassian by the wrist and pulled him towards the stairs.

“Let’s talk in my room,” she suggested.

Cassian nodded, though he still looked contrite as he allowed himself to be led up towards her bedroom. Nesta made sure that the door was locked to prevent Gwyn or Emerie from barging in under the guise of offering some sort of treat before she turned to address Cassian again.

“You look really pathetic,” she blurted once she caught sight of him.

Cassian barked out a humorless laugh. “I guess I deserve that.”

“No,” Nesta said. She slapped a hand against her forehead. “I mean you’re shivering. At least grab a blanket, or something.”

When he didn’t move to do so, Nesta rolled her eyes and pitched forward to snatch one off of her bed. She forced it around his shoulders, and then perched herself on the edge of her mattress.

“Explain,” Nesta said.

Cassian released a breath. He still looked like he was freezing, but the blanket seemed to have stopped the shivering, for now.

“I had no idea that Rayer was being so–” Cassian groaned, raking his fingers back through his long hair in frustration. “That he did any of that. But when I came to get you this morning, I realized just how fucking horrible he was, and I wanted to help you in any way I could, but there was that accident.”

Nesta’s lips parted in astonishment. “That’s what you’re sorry for? Not noticing?”

Cassian winced, and avoided meeting her gaze. “Yeah, that. And that I couldn’t help.” He laughed again, and the sound was dark. “Instead of helping you, I assisted the fucking guy in surgery.”

Nesta pulled on Cassian's wrist to force him to sit down on the bed with her. Once he was on eye level, she flicked him in the forehead to get his attention.

“Ouch,” he said.

“So you weren’t mad at me?” Nesta asked. “When you saw us this morning.”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Cassian said as he rubbed at the spot on his forehead. “I’m mad at myself, Nesta. And him, obviously, but you took care of him. Which, by the way, must have taken a lot of–”

Nesta waved him off, lip curling up as she fought at the disgust that rose up through her. “Let’s not talk about him. I had enough of that, today.”

Cassian nodded, eyes going wide. “Okay, yeah. Of course.”

“I want to talk about you,” Nesta said. Images flashed in her mind again. Of Cassian, placing himself between her and Rayer. Attempting to keep Rayer away from her. “Did you offer to do the burr holes so that I wouldn’t have to?”

Cassian watched as she pulled the edges of the blanket tighter around him, and swallowed.

“Yes,” Cassian said. “I didn’t think you’d want to be in the same room as him, let alone standing at the same side of the operating table.”

Nesta hummed, nodding. “Alright. You’re forgiven.”

“Wait,” Cassian said. He shook his head, and more droplets of water landed on Nesta’s collarbone.

“You’re splashing,” she commented.

“Yes, but,” Cassian said, “I really am sorry. I don’t want you to say that just to get rid of me, Nes. And it isn’t why I’m here, not really. I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

“Cassian,” Nesta said. “Stop tormenting yourself. I’m doing fine.”

Cassian took in a long, measured breath, and then nodded. “Okay. I’m glad to hear it.”

He moved to take off the blanket, but Nesta leaned forward, throwing her arm around his shoulders so he wouldn’t get up.

“I’m not trying to get rid of you either,” Nesta said. “Actually, I’d really like it if you could stay.”

She watched as Cassian’s throat bobbed, and then he nodded. “Sure, I’d like to stay.”

Nesta began to slip the blanket off of his shoulders, and tossed it into a damp pile on the floor. “Do you have work tomorrow?”

He shook his head, and allowed Nesta to pull his soaked shirt off over his head. “No.”

“Me neither,” she said softly. “Take off your pants.”

“Nesta,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile. “I don’t know if now is really the time.”

“For what?” Nesta asked innocently, though her eyes lingered in the shapes of his tattoos over his chest. “I want you to stay the night, and if you’re going to sleep in my bed, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t get the sheets soaking wet with your clothes.”

Cassian cursed at himself before shrugging off his pants. “I should have brought an umbrella.”

Nesta slipped beneath her covers, tucking a pillow under her head before she pulled back a corner of the comforter to make room for Cassian.

“Are you getting in?” Nesta asked. She yawned, and then patted the open space beside her. “I’m cold.”

Without another moment of hesitation, Cassian slid easily into the bed, folding her up into his arms and resting his cheek on the top of her head. As soon as Nesta wrapped her legs around his, he hissed.

“Shit, Nes,” Cassian said. “Your toes are freezing.”

“Warm them up, then,” Nesta gritted out, pinching his side.

He chuckled lightly to himself, and the warm, melodic sound faded away to the pelting of the rain against her window. For a while, they stayed swaying in the silence. Nesta counted over one hundred of Cassian’s breaths before she whispered.

“It meant something to me, too.”

He might have kissed the top of her head in response, but by then, Nesta was already asleep.

***

“Cassian,” Nesta hissed. She slapped her hand against his back. “Cass. Get up, I’m starving.”

From above her, Cassian groaned. He pressed his hands against the mattress on either side of her head to lift himself up enough to look at her. At some point during the night, he must have rolled entirely on top of her, because as soon as Nesta woke up, she found herself being squished beneath his entire body weight.

“Morning,” he said, blinking at her. Nesta tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped excitedly behind her navel at the hoarseness of his voice.

“Get off of me,” Nesta spat. “I need food.”

“Let me get it,” Cassian said. He rolled himself off of her, and then threw his legs over the edge of the bed to get up. A cold draft slipped under the blankets in the brief moment where he threw the blankets off of himself, and Nesta glared up at his back, tugging the blankets up to her neck.

“Bring something sweet,” Nesta whispered after him as he opened the door to her bedroom.

Cassian’s laugh followed him out into the hallway. “Chocolate isn’t breakfast, Nes.”

He was gone for only a few minutes, but Nesta had slipped effortlessly back to sleep by the time he returned–only to be awoken by something small and hard pelting her in the ribs.

“What the fuck, Cassian!” Nesta said. She shot up in bed, and dug around through the blankets to find that projectile he’d launched at her.

Cassian chuckled over by the door, clutching his stomach as he pulled it shut. “Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You said to get you something sweet.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Nesta’s fingers closed around something round. She pulled it up to her face to investigate.

A clementine.

“I meant like waffles, you jerk,” Nesta said, lobbing the offending fruit back at his head. Cassian caught it effortlessly as he flopped back down on the bed beside her with the rest of his hoard--each snack decidedly round and regretfully orange.

“Come on,” he said, tugging at the blankets. “Let me back in. I’m freezing.”

“You’re exiled,” Nesta said.

Cassian sighed, but surprisingly didn’t offer any more argument. Nesta watched suspiciously as he began to peel the clementine. All in one piece, in that infuriating way of his. Tiny droplets of the juice sprayed into the air as he pulled each slice apart.

His lips looked so full as he pushed the fruit into his mouth, and Nesta realized with a jolt that he’d been entirely too aware of the way that she was watching him.

Nesta felt her cheeks heat up, and immediately pulled her face into a glare to hide her embarrassment.

“Want some?” Cassian said, grinning.

“No.”

“Just a bite,” Cassian insisted. He rolled onto his side, throwing one arm over her so that he was hovering above her, and then held a slice of the clementine up between them. “I promise you’ll like the way it tastes.”

Without even being aware of it, Nesta clenched her thighs together. She swallowed.

“I know what a clementine tastes like, idiot,” she said. She turned her head to the side when Cassian tried to press the fruit against her lips, and felt it cold against her cheek.

“And you like it, don’t you?” Cassian said. His voice was still that gravelly, sleepy tone. She had to close her eyes, or else she felt like she might do something stupid, like beg him to kiss her.

“It’s fine,” Nesta said. Cassian had slowly dragged the fruit back to her lips, and he felt him pressing it gently against her mouth.

His head must have drifted closer, because she felt his hair–softly curled from the rain–brush against her cheek. Softly, he said, “Open your mouth, Nes.”

Before she even realized she was doing it, Nesta parted her lips, allowing Cassian to feed her the piece of fruit. And as soon as she felt his fingertip, her eyes fluttered open, and her lips closed around his finger.

Cassian’s gaze was impossibly warm, all of his focus centered directly on her lips as she sucked his finger into her mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick the juice from his finger tip, and then she released it with a pop to chew on the slice of the clementine. Cassian’s eyes were intent upon her the entire time she chewed, heavy and exhilarating, and when she swallowed, his thumb brushed across the side of her neck.

“Nesta,” he whispered.

Nesta bent her legs, propping her heels up on the mattress so that her thighs bracketed Cassian’s hips. Letting go of the blankets in favor of combing her fingers through his hair, Nesta tilted her chin up at him. Citrus coated her tongue.

“Cassian,” she returned. One of her hands traveled down, skimming over the black swirls across his chest, and finally pausing at the front of his pants, where she could feel him hardening. “Is this for me?”

He nodded, his head rolling effortlessly, as if it was more of a reaction than a conscious response. His hips rolled up into her hand, and Nesta slowly wrapped her fingers around him. He took in a shaky breath.

“Nesta,” he said again. “Maybe I should leave, before we get carried away.”

Nesta’s fingers tightened in his hair, and a fleeting bolt of panic rushed through her.

Don’t leave.

“We can stop if you want,” Nesta said almost too softly for even herself to hear. “But I already told you, Cass. I want you to stay with me.”

All of her reasons from before–the excuses about not wanting to be distracted or about wanting to remain focused on her work. They were so inconsequential, somehow. So ridiculous, in the face of the way his gaze could create entire universes right at the center of her chest. She wasn’t fooling anyone, if she kept insisting on pushing him away.

So she only pulled him closer. Released his length in favor of cupping both sides of his face. This time, he was looking right at her, and she felt sure that he could read everything in that glance alone.

“I don’t want to stop,” he let out. “I just want it to–”

“Mean something?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Nesta pulled him down to kiss her.

Me too.

Cassian’s mouth was still sweet and sugary from the fruit, but his lips met hers with anything but sweetness. They slid against hers hungrily, pushing, until she fell back against the bed and felt her mind turn to peach fuzz from within her skull. She sighed, trying to catch her breath, but he kissed her like he thought it might settle some long unsatisfied part of him, like he’d be able to find a home for that part of him in the corner of her mouth. She wondered if he sensed that in her, too–if the sweetness across her tongue matched his just as completely.

Nesta’s hands were insatiable. They roamed across the broad expanse of his chest, her palms smoothing over every ridge of his ribs and her fingertips grazing over the muscles of his back. She canted her hips upward, attempted to catch his in every movement, but Cassian kept himself maddeningly away.

“Cassian,” she whined. “I need more.”

His palms were over her breasts in an instant. A groan rose up from his throat and shook against her lips as his hands squeezed her from over her shirt. She huffed up into his kiss, her teeth glancing the edge of his tongue as she reached down to her shirt with trembling hands. She wanted to pull it off.

“Wait,” he said into their kiss. “Just a… minute.”

Much like his mouth, his fingers moved with such a reverence that Nesta wondered if his very touch was turning her into melted, pouring silver. If each caress might be molding her into something new that fit just perfectly into his hold. One hand fisted in the fabric of her shirt as the other slipped beneath it, and then she felt his hand warm and bare on her breast. His fingers pinched and rolled her nipple, and her teeth buried into his lip.

He might have been moaning in pain–Nesta immediately released his lip, just in case–but then his hips fell down onto hers, pinning her to the bed as he ground into her.

“I fucking…” he said, panting. “Oh my fucking god, Nes.”

Finding Cassian sufficiently distracted, Nesta tore her shirt out of his grip and pulled it off over her head. Pieces of her hair fell from their braid and landed across her face, over her eyes, but Cassian brushed them aside before she could. He didn’t seem to mind that she was trying to remove her own clothes, now, and absently Nesta smiled at the thought that 'wait' might not seem so important to him, now.

Cassian slipped a hand beneath Nesta’s back, curving her up into him as he finally pulled himself away from her lips with a gasping breath. Until he pressed his mouth back down upon her again, this time over her breast.

Nesta moaned, white hot sparks bursting behind her eyelids, and fisted both hands in Cassian’s hair. He sucked at a spot just next to her nipple, his tongue sweeping out to smooth the sting as his thumb flicked across her nipple.

“You’re so fucking,” he said. “I’m so…”

He finished neither sentence, pressing his face into her chest as he shook his head in something that seemed like disbelief. Both of his hands continued brushing up and down her sides, clutching at her breasts or pulling her closer, and when it seemed like he might be content to do just that forever, he tugged at her wrist to remove her hand from his hair, and then entwined her fingers in his.

He pressed both their hands down against the mattress, and then propped himself up.

“Turn around,” he said.

“Take off your pants,” Nesta countered.

Cassian held her stare, a challenge in the tilt of his eyebrow, and let go of her hand to tug down his boxers in one, swift movement. She had only one, fleeting second to appreciate the sight of him before his hand was back on hers, pulling her up towards him and into his lap.

“Turn around,” he repeated, this time far rougher.

Nesta sighed as he pushed her back down into the mattress, this time with her cheek pressed up against the pillow and her stomach flat against a crease in the blankets. She felt his fingers hook in the waistband of her pants, and tried to help him take them off, but evidently he needed no help, because while she was still kicking them off of her ankles, Cassian was tucking a pillow beneath her hips and angling her ass up towards him.

Cassian fell, his chest pressing deliciously up against her shoulders, and raked all of her hair over to one side so he could press his lips against the corner of her jaw, his tongue flat against the pulse of her neck.

His cock pressed against her ass, and Nesta arched back against it, whining when he tilted his hips away each time she tried to coax him into mind-numbing friction.

His hand squeezed roughly against her ass, and Nesta could have sworn her eyes rolled back in her head.

“I want you, Nes,” Cassian said. And the way he spoke, the words tripping so effortlessly over the tip of his tongue–Nesta believed that these were words he’d been wanting to say for a while. And words he desperately needed the answer for. “Do you want me?”

His palm curved around her ass, and his fingers found her clit, already feeling tight and swollen. She could feel that the inside of her thighs were already wet with her arousal, but could someone no shame at the thought of Cassian discovering just how ready for him she was.

“Yes, Cassian,” she said. She leaned her head back to allow him to suck at her throat. “I want you.”

He sighed into her ear, his fingers dipping into her center, stroking another moan out of her.

“You’re so fucking good, Nes,” he said, voice still taking on that unbidden, dazed sort of tone. “I want to make you come. Over and over and over–”

His hips rolled, his cock grinding against her ass again, and Nesta gasped as this movement was accompanied by the curl of his fingers. He repeated the movement– again and again and again–and she gripped the edges of the mattress above her head so tightly that her fingers felt numb.

“Oh my god,” she rushed out. “Please fuck me. Cass, please fuck–”

Another finger slipped inside of her, and Nesta’s voice was choked off as she came, hard and sudden around his fingers. She felt herself clenching around him, might have been embarrassed at just how little it had taken to get her to this point, where she was pliable and so ravenous beneath him–if not for the fact that his hand was gripping her ass again. And before she had even fully recovered from her orgasm, he pressed his cock into her while her core was still fluttering.

Nesta felt herself stretched around him, and had to give up her hold of the mattress in favor of biting down on the knuckles of her fist to prevent herself from screaming out in pleasure. Cassian’s hand was on hers immediately, pulling her hand and pinning it between their bodies against her back. Then he wrapped his fingers around the front of her neck, turning her face to the side so he could lean over and swallow each of her moans into his mouth as he thrusted into her.

Beneath them, the bed rocked up against the wall, and Nesta thought it might have been the entire earth swaying beneath them.

Fuck, she mouthed against each of his kisses.

Another orgasm crested within her as Cassian continued to rock his hips into her, the waves of it crashing down around her with such overwhelming pressure that it was all she could do to just repeat his name, to tilt her hips up each time he rolled forward, and melt when he pressed his cheek against hers. In front of their faces, their breaths collided into a heady, silvery mist, and then Cassian’s hips stuttered once.

Another time.

He came with his arms wrapped around her, and his face buried in the crook of her neck.

“–so fucking much.”

Her chest heaved as she attempted to catch her breath, perfectly in time with his, and Cassian fell back against the bed, pulling her up over him so that they could lay pressed against each other a moment longer.

There were few things as exhilarating in life as surgery. But with all ten of her fingers pressed against Cassian’s chest and his heartbeat thudding into her cheek, Nesta knew that there was only one thing that made her feel this whole.

#acotar writing circle #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar fanfiction #acotarwritingcircle #modern nessian #modern au #doctors au #nessian fanfiction #nessian smut

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pearldog30 · 2 years

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Johnny (soap) Mctavish head Cannon

I know, I said this was going to be out a lot sooner. butttt I got distracted so here we are with our soapy boy, and I hope y'all enjoy! As always this is going to be realistic as possible! (Also let me know if you would like to see some NSFW head cannons and I might put those in the works soon 👀)

Other works 👉Master list

Warnings| PTSD, and alcohol.

This is soaps love song cannot convince me otherwise. (Okay I was actually reading a soap fanfic. and this song came on, and I'm like it's perfect. anyways if the thing doesn't work it's I wanna be yours by Arctic monkeys slow)

youtube

I am going to start this off by saying. THE SASS THIS MAN HAS. I MEAN JUST LOOK AT THE GIFT HE SCREAMS SASSY! Oh and don't get me started. when he's trying to give attitude. He has the kind of sass that gives a drag queen, a run for their money. I LOVE IT

Contrary to what everybody might think of him, he's actually really fuckin smart. HE'S A SAS DEMOLITION SNIPER FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW SMART YOU HAVE TO BE, ESPECIALLY WITH MATH FOR THAT SHIT! So yeah he's not a dumbass to say the least.

BUT! With that being said he's low key oblivious as fuck, when it comes to day to day life. like yeah he may be able to do math perfectly, plan out war plans, be able to tell an enemy in a room within a second, but for the love of God. do not leave this man alone to clean the house without adult supervision. something's bound to end up broken/all disorganized on how you had it, it's going to be a new house when you come back.

He is the definition of doesn't follow instructions. Sooo unless if you want to be spending money on takeout, don't let him cook without your supervision. He cannot cook to save his life. (I said what I said)

This may not come as a surprise at all, but he is observant as fuck. it's the sniper in him, when you have the job he has you have to be always on guard. so a lot like ghost even when you guys are home/go out as civilians, he's always going to be on guard, observing every situation. but this man knows how to cover it up, and make it seem like he's not, it's concerning.

Since he is observant as hell, he notices every. single. little. detail. about yourself. Oh you got new lipstick, he'll be the first to say you look stunning. and to kiss that pretty lip color (he says he's just testing it. But we all know it's an excuse cuz he wants to kiss you) got some new jeans/leggings he'll definitely notice and be staring. So yeah he notices everything. even the stuff you do to the house, when he comes back home from deployment. This man is the definition of photographic memory!

and with the observant topic. if y'all are at a bar. and you're trying to make him jealous. don't, just don't, you're going to lose. this man does not get jealous, if anything he'll take it as a challenge. knowing you're trying to get him jealous, it ends up in you getting jealous. (he's a little shit and it's annoying)

I'm probably going to be the first to say this. and it's going to burst a lot of y'all's bubbles. but he does not, AND I MEAN DOES NOT, HAVE ADHD! (I'm pretty sure if you have ADHD, you actually can't do a lot of the stuff that he does. from what I've been told. so no he does not have it)

And if y'all ever somehow go on a road trip together. He doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. He's either cracking jokes or screaming music (more than likely it's Barbie girl or some other ridiculous song he uses to bother ghost with) bonus points if you join in with him, safe to say it's never a boring car ride with him.

Now when y'all have fights. It doesn't matter how they start, what they are about, what it was. this man always comes back to apologize first. It often has you questioning why, even if you knew you were in the wrong, you still wonder why he's apologizing to you, when you should be apologizing to him. and he'll never let you apologize, almost never!

Since he has this job. he does he struggles a lot with PTSD. Out of all the men he's definitely the most emotional, but not at the same time, it's weird. With his mental health he often bottles everything up, he never had a good experience with talking about it. and in his past either people looked at him like he's some crazy monster, or they just pushed him away. so this often brings him to he either drinks it away, and then forgets about it the next day. or has a complete breakdown.

Now I'm not saying he's an alcoholic, no. but he can't help it, when he comes home and those dark thoughts won't leave, and it goes to dark places. To where he sometimes (a lot of times let's be honest. That was before you came into the picture) turn to alcohol. Mainly it's just to forget about the fact he felt like he let his team down. cuz someone died on a rough mission he had no control over, and it kills him every time. Every time that does happen he wishes it was him.

But if he doesn't, then he'll often just lock himself in his office/shower. he'll silent cry to himself, and have a panic attack, rocking back and forth on the floor/on the shower floor. and you have caught him like that more than once. each time you did, he tried telling you he was okay, ushering you away from him. but you wouldn't budge, you would just hold him and let him cry it out/talk it out if he wanted. you really are his safe place in those situations.

So he often goes through one of those two scenarios, every time he comes home from a mission. and each time you see him like that it takes a little piece away from you, killing you a little, as it does for him. And it does kind of scare him to death that you see him like that. So he worries that you'll leave him, because he is going through such a hard time. so you have to reassure him a lot.

He's actually probably one of the only guys that doesn't really get night terrors/nightmares. Too often, I mean yeah he'll get them every once, in awhile but nowhere near as bad as the rest. he is the definition of heavy sleeper, unless of course he's on the field.

He's also the definition of clingy. You and Alejandro's partner, once had a competition, to see who was more clinger. and soap won that by an inch.

✨Middle child vibes✨ that's all I'm going to say.

Love language. Physical touch, quality time, words of affirmation.

All right that's going to be the it for this. I hope you all enjoyed it! and wherever you are in the world I hope you're having a good day/night reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 🖤

#call of duty mw2 #cod #modern warfare 2 #head cannon #mw2 headcanons #cod mw2 #cod mw2 soap #soap cod #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #modern warfare soap #johnny mactavish head Cannon #Youtube #task force 141 #team 141

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arachnesnest · 2 years

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Dreamed Cafe - Nod

I think I can see the shape of this now, though I’m definitely in that stage where I want to ditch the whole thing and start over with a better idea. But I can try finishing it out, at least. Nine portraits of people after the Fall, after the last battle failed, after the Bad Guys Won. How do they live on in a world like that? So far, Una is trying to accomplish one task left behind by her mentor, and finding that it doesn’t need to consume her life; Burdock is struggling with what happens to the rest of Carnidine Squad; Bellona is finding an unexpected joy in family and home.

When Nod enters into the realm of my dreaming, every trace of other people disappears. Not a bar, a campfire, a cafe; instead, he hikes into a quiet clearing. The ground is sparsely covered with scrubby weeds, and the trees around us are young-growth pines. Their needles block light from the ground, preventing anything much from growing. The earth is torn up in odd furrows, scarred from impacts and covered over with a thin topsoil since then. For all the nature around, it does not have a sense of serenity.

And I - this is a new one. I am not really there, either. Not in any human shape. I am a boulder, at the edge of the clearing. Mostly bare and jagged granite, just now beginning to gather lichen and moss. There is a name carved on me, but as a stone I of course cannot perceive it.

But it’s worth the change in shape and the silence when I see how ready he is to talk.

Nod comes right up to me and kneels down, brushing his fingers against the name carved in the stone. “You were the last good one,” he says with a rueful smile. He shifts sideways, turns so his back rests against the rock. “Haven’t found any good since.”

Out of the trees come a couple of old hounds, sniffing eagerly and lolloping over to where Nod sits. He gives them each a scritch and a pat on the back, then begins unpacking his bag. A sandwich is split between the dogs, who wolf it down happily. A packet of millet goes into a little bowl, and he scatters some on the ground. Finally Nod starts the slow process of packing his pipe for a smoke.

“People…they’re just not worth it.” He blows a slow steady smoke-ring and watches as a couple of birds perch in the trees and try to decide if the dogs are docile enough to ignore. “I told you as much before the Fall. But I stayed there, with you, right to the end. And you got killed for it. Got killed to save some coward’s hide or to bargain over a bit of land. You ended up paying the price for other people’s mistakes.”

“I said I was done, then. Threw down the staff. I wasn’t going to take one more step.” He grimaces a bit, then takes another long smoke. “Not that any of us thought too clearly right then. Mostly I just couldn’t face the idea of you having died for their faults.”

“Some of the rest of the army wanted revenge for the Fall, and that kept them going in the thick of it. Some others just fell down and despaired, couldn’t believe we’d lost. It felt like that at first for me, too. Stunned, disbelieving, either automatically fighting or automatically giving up. I took a head wound in the mess, and that’s probably what kept me from going either way.”

“I remember waking up when the sky finally got light enough to count as day again. I wasn’t safe, but I wasn’t dead, and nobody had found me yet to threaten or beg for help. All the fear and rage and sorrow had poured out of me like water, and it became all clear to me.”

“None of it was worth it. None of them were worth fighting for, dying for, killing for. I wasn’t going to bother with them any more. No revenge, no justice, no preservation, no destruction. I didn’t want any of that. Anything that had to do with people.”

“You get something different here, with the animals. They’re better than any person. No lying. No tortuous justifications and defenses. If they’re hungry, they eat; thirsty, they drink; sick, they die or recover. What you see is what you get. Loyalty is the confidence that you’ll feed them again, not some indefinable allegiance to an imaginary thing.”

“So that’s where I headed, once I pulled myself up, after I marked your name here. To the animals. Away from people.” He scatters more seed, this time on top of the boulder, and a couple of sparrows fly down to investigate. The hounds lounge in the clearing, enjoying the late sun.

“I’ve thought about that decision a lot since then, but never regretted it. Maybe when I first left it was anger driving me. But it was the right call. Nothing I’ve seen since has changed my mind. They’re - we’re - just not worth the pain. And I don’t mean just seelie or other, human or ironborn. All of us people. It’s not worth getting entangled in the lives of others. It all leads to the same fights, the same wars, over and over.”

“I remember that you said what I really needed was something to love. Didn’t make a lot of sense at the time, but then you’d never figured out that I was really in love with you. You were right, though. I love these sloppy old dogs and they love me right back. I love the snakes in the brush and the wasps in the hive. I see it more than I ever did, and I do love all of them.”

“Just not people.”

“Maybe you’d be disappointed in me. But I can live with that.” He gets up and pats the boulder, whistles the hounds to attention. “If I can live without you, I can live without your disappointment. Goodbye, Marana.”

He moves out of the clearing with steady, gentle purpose, cocking his head to catch a bit of birdsong. I sense him leave, watching with the patience of a stone.

#after the loss #rough draft #dreamed cafe #people just ain't no good #going to live with the animals

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hazelsmom · 2 years

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I've never had a rela with my biological father. I'm 35 now, so it doesn't bother me at all, I've got an amazing step dad and wonderful mother, and from what I know about this man who's DNA I have, I'm not missing much. I've met him less than a handful of times. I was 13 years old the first time. I had been told another man, also not in my life, was my father. He was in prison, so my mom just put that away in her mind, it didn't matter. Until he started calling us from prison and sending me letters. He never said anything about not being my dad, which he knew, but my mom didn't want him to have contact with me. Apparently he's trouble. He's the Tommy Lee to her Pam Anderson. So, she told me the truth. That one night, she was fighting with her boyfriend, the man I'd been told was my father. She went out, and ran in to his cousin. He has a Trans Am and was older. Mom was 15 and wild. He took her for a ride in the Trans Am. The Scorpions playing in the stereo while they were in the backseat, making me. She was 16 when I was born. Trans Am guy took off immediately. Apparently there was a DNA test involved, so he definitely knew. But didn't care, apparently. Oh well.

Back to 13 year old me. Mom told me the truth and asked if I wanted to meet this man. And I did. Now. I knew in my heart this wasn't going to be some big fairy tale. He wasn't gonna whisk me away from my tragic life and make everything okay. He wasn't gonna be rich. He wasn't gonna buy me a car. But idk. I was curious. I knew he still lived in that same small town in Mississippi, so that told me a lot about him. My grandma was living in Mississippi at the time, so we went for a visit, and then Mom and I drove to that small town I was born in. We left it when I was 6, I have very vague memories of it. We met at a Waffle House. I sat with my back to the door, and Mom facing the door. I watched her face, and knew when he walked in. He brought his mother. She stayed in the car. We had lunch, and it was awkward. Here's the man. This man who is half of me. I have half of his DNA in me. We look nothing alike. I look like my mother, which he comments on. He never left this shitty, small town. He doesn't have the Trans Am anymore. He lives part time with his mother, and part of the time in a trailer with his girlfriend, who just had a kid. So I have a sibling I still to this day know nothing about, other than they would be in their 20s by now. We have awkward small talk. I immediately know this man will never pursue a relationship with me, so if I let it die, it will die. I'm gonna let it die. We get in my mom's car, I don't remember where we were going or why he rode with us, but he was up front with my mom. She stopped to go in to a store, leaning us alone. There's a copy of Undertow by Tool in the tape player of my mom's car playing. He doesn't like it. He comments that my mom listens to some "death metal type shit." I tell him the tape is mine, actually, and it's Tool, and it's not death metal. I had just started getting in to my own taste in music and Tool changed my life. I ask him what he listens to. He tells me his favorite band is Cypress Hill, and he just likes "whatever is on the radio." So, I didn't get my love of music from you, huh? Did I get ANYTHING from this man? I look like my mother, everyone has always said that. I have her eyes. Her face. I thought baby pictures of her were of me when I was little. I see nothing of myself in this man. He is perfectly content in his small town life, he has no interest in music. I live in a fairly large city, and music is the most important thing in my life at that time. Mom used to punish me by taking away my books and my CDs. Neither of those things matter to him. He tells me he doesn't think he's ever read a book. He likes wrestling and drinking, those are his hobbies. Going to a shitty bar in town. That's what he does for fun. His life is so far from mine, we have nothing in common. I still wonder, is there any part of me that came from him? Mom doesn't even know. To her, this is a guy she went on a date with years ago. Once. They didn't go out again. To her, he's a one night stand.

But I knew at lunch. I knew immediately. He didn't come here to meet me. He came here to see my mom. He'd remembered what she was like at 16. Young and beautiful and wild. He hoped she was still like that. She wasn't, though. She's still beautiful, but she's tired. She'd been raising me alone for 13 years. She had my brother, too, when I was 8, and he broke her. My brother was a difficult child. She got post partum psychosis and no one knew or cared, but she luckily didn't kill him or me and was able to pull herself out and be my mom again. But she's worked physical jobs to support us. Mostly waiting tables. She's not a fun, wild, 16 year old from a big city forced to move to that small town and looking to rebel anymore. She's a mother, who loves her children and doesn't want to be here, but did it for me. He sees this, too. But it doesn't stop him from trying. He tries to talk about THAT NIGHT. While the product of that night is still sitting right there. He's trying to remind her of fun times. She's not interested. She's not that person anymore and hasn't been since he abandoned her with a baby. But he doesn't care. This man, my father, who has just told me about his girlfriend who has just given birth to another child he'll likely abandon in a few years, is desperately trying to hit on my mother. In front of me. The child he never met, who came all the way from Tennessee to be at that Waffle House.

We leave and head back to my grandma's house. The ride was quiet. I knew I'd likely never see him again, and feeling a bit guilty that I didn't want to. Shouldn't I want to have a relationship with my father? Should I feel bad that he didn't like me? Why am I not enough for him? But I don't feel bad. I shared his DNA, but he wasn't a father and never would be, though he would go on to have more children with different women. There was just something sad about him. But he wasn't smart enough to understand it, and would turn to drugs later. Last I heard of him, he'd stolen everything he could from the wife he had that forced him to reach out to his kids. He found me on social media when I was like 21, and reached out. But it was clear he didn't want to, but his new wife wanted him to, so he did it to shut her up. He sent me a message. Hoping I wouldn't respond. But I did. I told him basically thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine. I have my mom, and she married a man who accepts me as his own. This angered him. Especially because this man is Hispanic, and an immigrant. He doesn't like people that aren't like him, straight white males. I guess it triggers something in him. He sends me back messages saying things about my attitude, and how I should be more grateful. He also uses a slur against my step father, which angers me. Here's this man, who knows nothing about me, calling me ungrateful and insulting the man who did what he couldn't. A man who has loved and cared for a little girl that wasn't his. A little girl who quickly entered her life long struggle with depression and mental illness not long after he met my mother. And he still stuck around. So I was not so nice in my response. I basically tell him to never speak to me again, and to go ahead and consider himself not my father. I don't need him in my life. I don't want him in my life. I know he doesn't give a shit about me, and the only reason he ever reached out was because he wanted to see if he still has a chance with my mom, and now because his new wife wanted him to. I was mean. I told him he should be more focused on getting new teeth for his wife. Which was mean, I know that now. But I was young and angry. Still struggling with my mental health. Again, I've angered him. He CALLS me to say mean things. Back then, Facebook still displayed your phone number publicly. He left a message. I listened to it, and heard his voice calling me a brat and he can't believe any child of his would talk to her father like that. All I can think is he is right, I'd never talk to my step dad like that.

And that's the last time I heard from him. I have at least one half brother I know about. I know there's others, but this is the only one I know. He doesn't know any others, either. Our father actually married his mom. Who was best friends with my mom. He stayed married his mother and stuck around for a while. My brother has memories of our father. He misses him. He wants him to come back. I think how sad that is. How lucky I am to have my step dad. How I hope one day my brother is able to move on, and see our dad for who he is. It hurts my heart when my brother messages me to ask if I've heard from our dad, because it appears no one has in a very long time, and he is worried. He knows family members that I don't. Our father is apparently missing. No one knows where he is, not since he stole from the wife who forced him to reach out and went on a drug bender. He may be dead. In jail. Who knows? It hurts me that my brother is concerned and is looking for him. But it doesn't hurt me that my father is missing. I don't feel anything about that. I still get messages from my brother sometimes, he asks if I've heard from our dad, and I haven't, of course. I tell my brother look. He knows how to find me. I'm not hard to find. I have an uncommon name. All he would need to do is search my name, and one or more of my social media pages would appear. Even though I have a new last name he doesn't know about, he could still find me. There's zero chance he doesn't use the internet. There's zero chance he doesn't know how Facebook works. If he wanted to find me, he could do so easily. But he hasn't. Not in 15 years. Doesn't he understand, this man doesn't want to be our father? He doesn't. He thinks one day he will want to be our father. I can't bring myself to break his heart. He's very nice. He looks like him. We have a few things in common, but not much. If weren't half siblings, we'd likely never be friends. We talk about meeting up someday, both knowing that will never happen. Maybe someday we'll just so happen to be in the same state. Maybe someday our father will get curious and reach out again, but I doubt it.

I came to terms with my father a long time ago. But new technology has brought new fears, and I find myself thinking of him more and more. I think about getting my DNA looked at. I know nothing of this side of me, and what if there is something I should know? But part of me worries I'll do that, and one day, someone comes knocking on the door, they got a familial DNA match for a cold case they've been working. My father was involved. Or my half sibling I know nothing about. And I have to tell them I can't be of any help, and know a person I'm related to is out there escaping justice. This is something that keeps me from doing this. Am I protecting this hypothetical family member? I honestly wouldn't be surprised to find out they were involved in an old cold case, but do I want to help the police find them? I like to think I'd tell them if I knew where he was, but would I? I believe I would. I'd hate to think of a mother, missing her child, never getting justice, and I don't help when I could. Besides, this man is nothing to me, just a guy my mom had a one night stand with 35 years ago. I feel bad sometimes that I am glad he stayed away from me. I don't think my life would have been any better with him in it, and perhaps worse. But I do still wonder sometimes, is there any part of me that's like this man? Did I get ANYTHING from my father? Surely I did. Surely I am not just a clone of my mother. I'd like to know what part of me came from him. Is it something I hate about myself? Or like? Did my tendency to have addiction issues come from him? Or my mom? She struggled before. But she beat hers. I haven't. And don't know how I will. I think that's what my father gave me. And I hate it and I hate him for it. I don't want to be like him.

#fathers #deadbeats #deadbeat dad #random thoughts #genetic testing #dna test #daddy issues #drug usage #addiction

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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If I Fell For You (Part 6) - Best Friends

Summary: While out with Jensen and some of his new co-stars, the reader bumps into her father again. This time Jensen knows the truth though and nearly starts a fight. After calming him down, the reader and he have an impromptu date that ends up with Jensen sharing a secret about himself...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, body insecurities, scars, smut (oral), mention of a dead parent

A/N: I love all of this part so much! Enjoy!

________

The room was toasty warm when you woke the next morning. It took a split second to remember you weren’t in your room and that there was a warm body next to you. Your did a tiny stretch and felt a weight over your waist. It pulled you closer and you smiled, lazily opening your eyes.

“Good morning sunshine,” he said, hair spiked up every which way, green eyes big and sleepy.

“Morning,” you said, shutting your eyes again and nuzzling him.

“Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more adorable in the mornings, I get to see you waking up,” he said. He played with a piece of your hair and you threw your arm over his waist, holding onto him. “You’re so fucking cute.”

“Cuddle buddies, remember?” you mumbled.

“I’m down for that,” he said. He squeezed you and giggled, kissing your forehead until you turned your head upwards. “Hi.”

“Hi handsome,” you said. He pecked a kiss on your lips, a trio of feet running down the hall.

“The vultures are awake. Prepare for impact.”

“What?” you said, the door opening and three very small bodies climbing up on the bed.

“Y/N, what are you doing in daddy’s bed?” asked Arrow.

“Don’t you guys want to sleep in for like once?” asked Jensen. He pulled her down to his other side, Zeppelin doing a dive right between you and Jensen, while JJ plopped down behind you. A pillow was knocked over his face as the twins started crawling over him, Jensen chuckling and pushing it out of the way. His face poked out just as JJ started to jump behind you, a little smile there. “Welcome to my Sunday mornings.”

“Glad I was invited this time,” you said. He was about to speak when he squeezed his eyes shut and bent his body in half.

“Zeppelin,” he grit out. “No jumping on daddy’s lap, remember?”

“Oh. I forgot,” he said.

“Who wants pancakes this morning?” you asked. All three shot their hands up and you smiled. “Well you better go brush your teeth if you want some. Go on guys.”

They ran off the bed and out of the room, Jensen laughing when you moved the pillow away.

“Think you’ll survive?” you asked.

“That kid is single handedly going to guarantee I can’t have more children,” he chuckled. He sat up and stared at you, looking you over.

“That’s not a conversation for right now.”

“No, it’s not. But...are you interested in your own?” he asked.

“My mom didn’t have my blood but she was still my mom. I don’t need to make a kid to love it,” you said.

“I know. I wonder is all.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Okay,” he said softly.

“Are you, in more?”

“I don’t know. I’m almost 43, in like a month. I don’t want to…I don’t want to have a kid so late in life that they see me go early in their life, you know? That’d be cruel to do.”

“You got a lot of road ahead of you. You’re not like seventy, dude.”

“I know. Everything this year just…it’s just one more kid someday that’s gonna get hurt,” he said.

“It’s one more kid to love too though. Let’s talk about this much, much further down the line, okay?”

“Okay with me,” he said. You rolled out of bed and he followed after, holding his hands over himself.

“You need an ice pack?” you asked.

“No, I’m good,” he said. “He’s a little...up this morning is all.”

“Oh I noticed,” you said. His cheeks went pink and you laughed. “Dude. Morning wood is normal.”

“Oh. Good. I thought maybe considering what you told me last night it might have...bothered you,” he said.

“I don’t got a problem with dicks or sex. I got a problem with people invading my personal space with them without my consent,” you said. “We cool?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna take care of this. I’ll be down in a second,” he said.

“Have fun,” you said, winking as you headed out.

“The view of you in my clothes is not helping,” he said. You swayed your hips and heard him groan. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“I sure hope so,” you laughed. You changed into some fresh clothes in your room, something comfortable for the day before you jogged downstairs and found the three of them watching cartoons. “Okay. So who wants to help make breakfast?”

Two Weeks Later

“Shopping buddy!” said Antony when you and Jensen found your way over to the table where he and a few of Jensen’s other new cast mates were getting a drink and some food.

“Wow you really are too adorable when you’re not playing a psychopath,” you said, sliding into the booth beside him, getting a hug. “Hi. I’m Y/N, his shopping buddy.”

“Erin, Karl,” said Jensen. “Don’t you have a super huge crush on Karl, Y/N?”

“Yours is bigger,” you said, a waiter bringing over a pair of drinks and setting them down. You were about to order when you looked at the man and rolled your eyes. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“We’d like a new waiter. Now,” said Jensen. He stared at you and then Jensen before nodding and leaving.

“What was that about?” asked Erin.

“That was my father. We’re not on good terms,” you said.

“Gotcha. So how’s a pretty girl like you end up with this ugly?” said Karl.

“Aw, he thinks you’re pretty,” teased Jensen.

“I got eyes for you too, Jensen. Don’t be jealous,” he chuckled.

“Later guys,” said Jensen, arm over your shoulder as you headed for your car a few hours later. “Thanks for going. I’m still getting to know everyone.”

“I had fun. I like your new friends. I’d like to get to know Jared more when we’re back home.”

“Really?” he asked with a soft smile.

“He’s your best friend. You talk to the guy everyday. He’s important to you.”

“Yes he is. I’d definitely love for you guys to get along.”

“Me too,” you said, arm around his waist.

“Y/N,” you heard behind you and froze, Jensen already spinning around and pushing you behind him.

“Buddy stay the fuck away from her. I’m serious,” said Jensen.

“That’s my daughter,” he said.

“I’d rather die than hurt my daughters unlike some people. Get your piece of shit ass away from us,” said Jensen.

“Y/N, I got help,” he said, looking past Jensen. “I did.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“Y/N-” he said, trying to get around Jensen and earning a shove for it instead.

“I told you to back off.”

“Hey,” you heard from outside the restaurant, Jensen’s co-stars walking down from where they were waiting for their ride. “What’s going on here?”

“Leave,” Jensen told your father again.

“I want to talk to-”

“Excuse me but I think our friends asked you to leave them alone,” said Antony. You swallowed and noticed people starting to look. The last thing you needed was this turning into a fight and all of them ending up on the front of TMZ.

“Dad,” you said, brushing past Jensen. “Stay the fuck out of my life. Come near me again and I’ll call the cops.”

“I am sorry for what happened.” Jensen growled and you put a hand on his chest, pushing him back.

“You want to make it up to me?” you asked. “Move to Alaska, somewhere I’ll never have to see your face again.”

“Y/N-”

“Leave and never, I mean never, come back.”

He went back into the restaurant and you took a deep breath, glancing down.

“Sorry about that,” you said.

“You guys good?” they asked and you nodded. “Jensen?”

“Yeah I’m good. I’ll see you guys at work,” he said. You pulled him away and down the sidewalk, holding his hand tightly. “Don’t step in front of me like that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want you near him. Ever.”

“Forget about him. Please. We had fun tonight. That’s all I want to focus on.”

“Okay,” he said when you got to the crosswalk. He pulled you into his side and kissed your temple.

“You’re shaking,” you said.

“I’m freaking out a little bit to be honest,” he said. You hugged him and walked across the street, pulling him into a bar. You found a quiet table in the corner and got him an old fashioned, leaving him seated while you got an order of pretzels too.

“Eat this,” you said, placing the basket of warm soft dough in front of him. He picked one up and ripped it apart, dipping it in mustard and then the cheese.

“This is really good,” he said. You pulled off his hat and carded your fingers through his hair, Jensen glancing down. “I’m sorry. I should be taking care of you right now.”

“I’m okay and I happen to like taking care of you. Always have,” you said. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder, eating quietly as you listened to an in house band play on the other side of the bar. “I like this place. It’s kinda quaint.”

“Try some,” he said, holding up the pretzel. You took a bite and hummed. “S’good.”

“Very good. You feel like you calmed down some.”

“I thought he might hurt you. I was so fucking angry it scared me.”

“But you still listened to me and calmed down for me. I’m not gonna be mad that you want to protect me from him.”

“I feel like I can’t do anything to protect people I care about anymore.”

“Did she ever have to force you to relax?”

“Hm?”

“Your wife. Did she make you take time off or relax or have a lazy day?” you asked.

“Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“I think your life has been so busy for so long you forget to have the quiet moments to yourself, even though I think that’s truly what you enjoy. I think you had more fun tonight than you would have without me because new people make you nervous. I think you were thrown on pause for so long after the accident that you didn’t realize that you can’t ever go back to how it was, no matter how much you want it to. You need to take more time for you Jensen. The fate of the world doesn’t rest on your shoulders. You can sleep in. You can take a day for yourself and not constantly be with the kids for hours and hours on end. You can take a second to breathe. You gotta. I’m okay. Even if something had happened tonight, it’s not the end of the world.”

He lifted his head up and blinked a few times at you. His hand cupped your cheek and he kissed you, tasting like bourbon and mustard, something different about it this time. Something possessive, something softer.

“Better?” you asked, stroking his cheek.

“I’m better,” he said, turning into the touch. “You scare me most of all, you know.”

“Why?”

“Cause this is either going to turn out really good or really bad and I’m so fucking tired of being scared.”

“Don’t be,” you said quietly. He swallowed and you looked him up and down. “You’re my best friend. I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

“You’re my best friend too,” he said, nodding and taking a deep breath. You scooted closer and hugged him, Jensen returning it for a long moment. You sat back against the corner and turned him to lean back against you, both of you watching over towards where the band played. He sipped on his drink and you played with his hair, picking at the pretzel while you held him. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, honey,” you said, kissing the top of his head. “That’s my job.”

He tilted his head back and looked up at you with the biggest green eyes you’d ever seen, a warm feeling filling you. You bent down and kissed him, Jensen grinning by the time you were straightening yourself out.

A few minutes went by and some more, Jensen ordering a few more drinks and food while you used the bathroom. You returned to your table and picked at fat mozzarella sticks and chicken wings, sipping on a way too expensive scotch while you listened to the band play, tucked away in Jensen’s side.

“Can I admit something?” he asked while you dunked a cheese stick into a tiny cup of marinara. “I kinda like this more than our date a few weeks ago. Our dress up one. Don’t get me wrong, you were gorgeous but this is kinda perfect all things considered.”

“I’m a cheap date Ackles. Give me some bar food, some music and a cuddle and I’m a happy girl,” you said. You held up your stick and he bit off the end before you popped the other piece in your mouth. “I like this date too. Found out I’m your best friend and all.”

“Do you wanna…” he trailed off. You turned your head up and saw the look in his eye. You nodded and smiled, the two of you getting into your coats and heading outside. You barely caught the name of the bar before Jensen was pulling you after him down towards the car.

He turned up the heat when you were inside and drove out of the city, finding a quiet and dark little field not too far from the house.

“Um, I wasn’t...expecting this,” he said. You smirked and sat back in your seat, Jensen turning off the car but leaving the heat running. “I don’t even know what I’m…”

“I’ve never made out in the back of a car before,” you said with a shrug. “I’ve also never made out in the back of a car with you either so…”

“I was thinking something more…” he said, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not on birth control,” you said.

“I’m not having sex with you for the first time in the back of a car. I have more class than that,” he chuckled. You unbuckled your seatbelt and shrugged out of your coat, leaning over as he backed up against his door.

“If you’re not ready for this, tell me and I’ll stop,” you said. He nodded and you put a hand on his chest, unzipping his coat. Your hand rested on his lower stomach, just over his belt and he shut his eyes.

“Wait,” he said. You sat back and he sat forward in his seat again, pressing his hand over his stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said. You kissed his cheek and sat back in your seat, sticking your arms in your jacket. “Seriously, don’t over think it.”

“I want to. Shit I want to do all sorts of things with you in that backseat. But I need to show you something first and it’s better at home if you find out.”

“Okay,” you said. “Let’s go home then.”

Twenty minutes later the babysitter was gone and you were watching Jensen peel off his shirt in his bedroom, back to you. He dropped his jeans and kicked them aside, turning around in his boxer briefs. He started to pull them down when you shook your head.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“No. I think I’m wearing too many clothes is all.” You turned and took off your top, your face hot as you slipped off your leggings. You dropped them to the ground and straightened up, taking deep breaths. You’d been naked in front of your ex before plenty. But Jensen was just so damn handsome and his body was…

“Y/N,” said Jensen, close behind you but not touching you. “You okay?”

“Didn’t really think through the you seeing me basically naked thing,” you said. He lightly tapped your arm and you spun around, forcing your head up.

“Basically naked you is hot,” he said, cupping your cheek.

“I have a stomach,” you said.

“So do I,” he said, patting his own. “You are beautiful, Y/N. Believe me when I say it.”

You nodded and started to relax, Jensen tensing up again though.

“What did you want to show me?” you asked. He walked over to the bed and glanced at it. You took a seat and he shut his eyes, taking a beat before he pushed down his underwear. A thick pink scar ran over his skin and curled down to his leg.

“One of my arteries was damaged in my hip, leg, groin, whatever area, when part of the car kinda...went in me. It’s um...it’s fine now but the scar is…I’m kinda...self-conscious about it...”

“Can I?” you asked. He nodded and you reached out your hand, Jensen opening his eyes as you touched the end closest to his hip. You traced your finger over it and down, curving it back around and to the top of his thigh.

“I know it’s ugly but laser scar removal can be a bitch to deal with, especially down there. I-”

“I love it.”

“What?”

“Scars mean you survived. I’m really happy you survived so yeah, I love it. I don’t give a fuck if you have scars, Jensen. You’re so handsome and attractive and this is not ugly. This is part of you and nothing about you is ugly.”

“It’s not attractive though,” he said, putting his hand over it. You put yours over his and moved it aside.

“You’re standing in front of me naked and you think this scar is what I’m thinking about?” you asked.

“I haven’t done this with someone new in almost twenty years,” he said. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too. But I meant what I said. It’s just a scar, Jensen. I got ‘em. You got ‘em. I’m attracted to you but that sure as shit ain’t why I like you.” You gently thumbed over the skin and he rested his hand on yours, tracing over it with you this time. “Come here.”

He sat down and you knelt up on your knees, cupping his cheek and kissing him. He sank back and moved towards the middle of the bed, never breaking apart from you.

“Relax,” you said against his ear. “This is gonna be fun. I promise.”

“Can I take off your bra?” he asked. You nodded and he shook his head. “Why do I feel like I’m doing this for the first time?”

“It is the first time like this. So we’ll move at your speed, okay?”

“How do…” he said, shutting his eyes. He fisted his hands in the sheets and you wrapped your arms around him, Jensen resting his head on your shoulder. “I don’t want to...do certain things bother you?”

“Like…” you said, Jensen taking a deep breath. He lifted his head and looked at you, pursing his lips.

“Do things having to do with sex scare you? I don’t need details or why but with what happened to you I don’t want to frighten you or do something stupid.”

“You’re too sweet,” you said. You stroked his cheek and shook your head. “I’m okay. Trust me. I’ve probably done kinkier shit than you have.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not scared of you, Ackles. I’ve had all the time in the world to work through that stuff. If you want to take off my bra and leave it at making out in bed naked, that’s fine. If you want to go further, that’s fine too. I’m not pushing you into anything. Ever. I literally can’t imagine being in your position. Take all the time-”

“Why…” he breathed out, resting his forehead against yours, hot breath fanning over your mouth. “Why are you so patient with me? You’re thirty. You could have anyone you want. Why would you want me?”

“Because you’re my best friend, Jensen. You’re the only one I do want.”

He leaned forward, hand sliding up to the back of your neck as he pressed his lips to yours. He slowly took charge of it and you let him, Jensen guiding you to lay back. You kept softly kissing him, matching his pace and cupping his face, running your fingers through his hair. A finger grazed your shoulder and then the other. You moved your arms out of the bra straps, reaching up for him again. You sat up as best you could, Jensen reaching behind you and undoing the clasp before tossing it aside. He didn’t move lower though, just kissed you lazily until he rolled back onto the mattress, pulling you to lay on top of him.

You shifted back and heard him groan when you nudged the tip of his cock.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, Jensen shaking his head.

“Take off your underwear,” he murmured.

“Jensen I don’t like to have sex unless I’m on birth control. It’s just a-”

“Of course not. There are other things we can do if that’s okay?” he asked. You nodded and rolled to the side, shimmying out of your underwear. He slid down the bed and ran his hands up your thighs, a shiver trickling down your spine.

“What are you thinking?” you breathed out.

“Wonder how you taste,” he said, licking his lips.

“Are you sure you want to?” you asked. He nodded and you returned it. He leaned down and spread your legs out, large hands sliding up and down your inner thigh, getting closer and closer each time. “What are you doing?”

“S’called foreplay sweetheart,” he said, hands gliding up over your hips and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Jesus Jensen. I was not expecting this from you.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Fuck no.” He smirked and inched his fingers closer and closer to you, teasingly leaving kitten kisses over your hip. Painfully slow he made his way down, dipping his head down and swiping his tongue over your clit. He was soft and gentle at first but he increased the pressure when your legs wrapped over his back.

His hands pinned your hips down to the bed, your own wandering to his hair and running through it. He was very good and when he sucked you fisted his short strands, Jensen doing it over and over while still working his tongue.

Your legs squeezed him as your orgasm snuck up on you, sharp and powerful. You moaned when the feeling died down but Jensen didn’t let up for a beat.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said, another orgasm tearing through you. You yelped and threw a hand over your mouth, this one even better than the last. You breathed hard as Jensen finally pulled back, smirking as he pulled his hand away from your mouth.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” he teased.

“I think you short circuited my brain,” you breathed out, staring at the ceiling. You giggled and he joined you, laying a hand over your waist. “How the fuck did you get me to come twice. That’s literally never happened outside of some alone time.”

“You find that groove, you stay in it,” he smirked. “You taste excellent by the way.”

“You’re a fucking dirty boy under that soft little face and I’m kinda super hot for it,” you said. He chuckled and you sat up, staring down at him. “Can I return the favor?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Do you want a condom?”

“You clean?” you asked. He nodded and you smiled. “You okay with me not using one?”

“Yeah. Just don’t expect me to last long.”

You smiled and kissed him before you scooted down the bed. He was hard and leaking a bit of precome when you gently wrapped a hand around the base of him. He tensed up and you flicked your gaze up but he took a deep breath.

“I’m good,” he said. You licked your lips and ducked your head, taking the head of him into your mouth. He breathed harder and you stilled, waiting until he was calmer before you moved your tongue around. You didn’t stroke the rest of him, merely gave him a few teasing touches while you bobbed an inch or two, lightly hollowing your cheeks. He let out soft sighs and quiet grunts that spurred you to take more of him in. You moved lower and faster, swiping your tongue over his head. He started to throb and you sucked hard, Jensen groaning before he came. You pulled off after a moment and swallowed, wiping off your lip with your thumb and sucking it clean.

“How was that?” you smirked, Jensen throwing his arm over his face. He didn’t seem to be enjoying his post-orgasmic glow though and you tried pulling his arm away. “Hey, you okay? Was it too much?”

“No,” he said, flopping his arm down and staring up at you. “It felt great. I just...I came so fucking early.”

“When’s the last time you had a blowjob?”

“Well over six months. I still-”

“Coming early ain’t a bad thing to me,” you said. “Shit I came after like five minutes which doesn’t happen like, ever. I just care that you had fun.”

“I did,” he said, a smile coming onto his face. “I liked that little under the tip thing you were doing with your tongue.”

“Never met a man that could last longer than a few minutes with that little trick,” you said. You lay down and wrapped your arms around him, Jensen brushing his nose against yours.

“How many guys you been with? If that’s okay.”

“Three including you,” you shrugged. “Highschool party. The ex which was off and on for a long time. You. You got the nicest dick, that’s for sure.”

He chuckled and you kissed the tip of his nose, Jensen pulling you closer.

“You?”

“Oh I’ve not been with any guys,�� he chuckled.

“Go gentler on the dick than you think you should. They go nuts for it,” you said.

“I will keep that in mind for when it happens,” he laughed. “Pretty much all of my girlfriends in adulthood. Seven or so I’d say.”

“I don’t know why I expected that number to be higher.”

“More than that have tried. I’m not really the hook up guy. Sure I acted like that guy when I was younger but never really was him, you know?”

“You’ve always been sweet. Probably even as a dumb teenage boy, weren’t you.”

“I was a very dumb teenage boy,” he chuckled. “But I didn’t really get in trouble. Flirted with that line once or twice but you know. Teenagers are idiots. I bet you were a good girl, weren’t you.”

“I spent most of my teenage years with my mom sick and then after that I was...I wasn’t really the girl that got involved with that stuff besides some parties.”

“Was it cancer? Your mom?” he asked.

“Radiation poisoning. She’d been accidentally exposed as a little kid on her family’s farm when she got into some supplies she shouldn’t have. Hit her harder later on in life. She’d known since she was a kid that dying young was a strong possibility. It wasn’t easy but I felt kinda better that her first husband Dan was like, maybe waiting for her or some shit. I don’t know. Ray and I used to say that to each other sometimes.”

“Why don’t you talk to Ray anymore?” he asked quietly, playing with a piece of your hair over your shoulder.

“It wasn’t like we had a fight or anything. I just got older, moved out for a nanny job at eighteen. He started to date again and he has this nice little life now with his wife and kids. The idea of a father scared me.”

“My dad’s nice if you ever want to talk to a dad sometime,” he said. He smiled before he cocked his head, his lips parting. “They have no idea I’m dating you.”

“It’s not been that long,” you said.

“I should tell them, before they hear from some tabloid or friend or something,” he said.

“Do you think they’ll have a problem with me?” you asked, his head shaking. “I mean, I’d be leery of me if I were them. I sound like a fucking movie plot. The young nanny gets with the older single dad.”

“My parents want me to be happy again and you make me happy for the first time in a very long time. There’s no way that they couldn’t love you,” he said. You nodded and closed your eyes, covers pulled up over top of the two of you after a few moments. You felt a kiss on your lips and you smiled, inching closer to him. “Thanks. For tonight.”

“You too, Jensen. It was perfect.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 7 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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nightowlfandom · 3 years

Text

Yandere! Hawks (Keigo Takami) - Scratches and Bruises

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Alright I’ll do it...I’LL WRITE HAWKS SMUT....but I won’t like it.

Okay people so This is gonna have talks of death, abuse, yandere shit.

Leggo!

...

“What’s a pretty girl like you do sad for?”

You looked up from your phone to find a man practically leaning over the restaurant table. You could smell the alcohol from miles away and the way he was moving wasn’t helping his case either. You were instantly put off by him. Correction: You were disgusted by him.

“What’s a ugly man like you so bold for?” you smiled sweetly as the venom dripped off your words. “I’m really not interested.” you looked back down at your phone. You were just about to get a new high score on your favorite phone game and this asshole was ruining your chances. Your character almost died twice since he began bothering you. It was really starting to get on your nerves. If you didn’t unlock that new skin, you might kill someone.

“Oh come on.” he slurred. “Can a guy just compliment such a pretty lady?”

“Not when he looks like fucking Voldemort.” you replied just as quickly as he ended his sentence. “You’re kind of bothering me right now.” you pressed pause on your game and looked up again. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, seriously?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a guy at one of the booths, staring over at you. It didn’t feel creepy, but it was enough to capture your attention.

“I wanted to-”

“What do you want?” you cut him off again. “We’re wasting time here.” you threw your phone on the table. “Save me the headache and save your ego...” you crossed your arms. you faked a smile. “Goodbye.”

“You bit-”

“Is there a problem?”

A new person walked up to you two. The same guy who you had noticed before stopped in front of your table. He had sandy brown hair, and very sharp looking eyes. You swore you’ve seen him somewhere. You weren’t too sure.

“Nothing buddy, just about to show this bitch who she’s talking to-”

You crossed your arms and shifted around in your seat. “I mean I don’t need to be shown anything.” you shrugged.

“Oh are you?” he laughed. “Well I hate to break it to you but I’ll have to intervene” the stranger laughed out loud.

“What do you mean-”

The drunk was instantly floored as this stranger grabbed his by the neck and slammed his face against the table not even an inch away from your phone. The drunk landed on the floor with a thud, moaning in pain. You weren’t even sure if he was registering the pain he was in or the fact that he had gotten his ass handed to him in the first place. All that you knew was that he was being peeled off the floor and escorted (more like thrown out.).

“You’re welcome, lady.” the guy didn’t take another look at you before be took a step forward.

“I didn’t need your help.” you snatched your phone off the desk. “I can take care of myself.” you rolled your eyes. “And I wasn’t gonna thank you, either.” you stood up. “I’m definitely not going to now.”

The man slowly turned around, revealing his face clearly. “Oh really?”

He was attractive, no doubt about it. His tight black muscle tee with baggy jeans and boots...damn he was a looker. Yet you weren’t like most MC’s...it would take a bit more than that for him to have any impact on you.

“Really.” you repeated. You put a hand on your hip. “Now if you’ll excuse me...I’m off to find another table to sit at.”

The man who ‘saved’ you didn’t take his eyes off you all night. Even when your friends came and joined you.

“Hey Y/N, is that Keigo Takami looking at you?”

“I think it is!” another friend piped.

“Who?” you stared at her as you lowered your drink. “Who is Keigo Takami?”

“Y’know...Hawks.” she whispered. “I heard they call him that when he served time...”

“He’s a literally crazy person. He’s an absolute menace! He’s a former hero...”

“Can imagine why...he beat the shit out of this guy who tried to hit on me.”

“Him?! I haven’t heard of him ever doing that for anyone before.” your other friend widened her eyes. “Y/N, I’ve heard of his past relationships...they didn’t end well. They all ended up missing...or in therapy.”

“I can take care of myself.” you shrugged. “I’m sure whatever Hawks has for me, I can take.”

“Don’t say that so freely, Girl. I heard he has a lot of screws loose.” your friend put a hand on your shoulder. “Like a lot.”

“Well whatever Mr. Man has in store for me, I’ll be prepared. It can’t be that bad, right?” your confidence dispersed a little bit. You looked behind you back at Keigo who had been cracking open a can of beer. He looked a little to interested in his own world to see you staring.

“Y/N...Y/N!” your friend snapped her fingers in your face. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah!” You focused back on your friends, feeling your emotions sort of switch.

From the corner of the room, Keigo’s eyes followed you. He took his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you. Never in his life had he ever seen a girl like you before. He had never been so...fascinated either. Something inside him snapped, he had to get to know you.

He had to.

...

“Is there a reason you’re following me?”

On a trip to the supermarket, you couldn’t help but voice your opinions. Keigo was hiding in behind a display of cans whilst you stared at the cheese. Hmmm Cheddar or American? Maybe Havarti! Hmm Pepperjack? Why were there too many types of cheeses?! Too many options!

“You have a very keen eye.” he revealed himself. “I like that.” he began walking along side down down the aisle. “Try this one, it’s the best on burgers.” he grabbed a package of Pepperjack cheese and tossed it in the cart.

“I’m just very aware.” you replied boredly. “It comes with the territory.” you opted to ignore him trying to shop for you.

“Of being a hero?”

His words made you freeze. You hadn’t been a hero in years, let along thought about it. It had been so long...

“I hung up my cape years ago.” you rebutted. Your tried to keep your voice steady, but he could tell his words affected you. It made you wonder how he even knew that.

“I can say the same.” he winked. “Only I traded the cape for...other things.”

“I can tell...Hawks.” you grumbled in reply. “That’s what they used to call you right?”

Keigo knew you were challenging him. Part of him was angry, others not so much. He was interested to say the least. No one dared call him that anymore. Hell, no one lived long enough to even finish such a sentence. What made you so different? You had guts...he liked that.

“Yeah...that part of my life is over now.” he began following you down the aisle. “What about you? Why’d you give up hero work?”

“That’s not something I want to discuss with a stranger in the middle of the store.”

“I get it...how’s 7:00 sound?”

“Pardon me?” You and your cart skid to a stop. “What did you just say to me?”

“I’ll meet you at the bar we met around 7! Don’t be late, and tell the bartender Takami Keigo is gonna be waitin’ for ya.” he winked. “Don’t leave me waiting princess...”

“I don’t even know you!” you were taken aback. “You don’t even know my name...”

Keigo’s face twisted into a smirk. He took a step towards you. You flattened yourself against the aisle wall as he trapped you against the cereal. “So tell me...What’s your name?”

“Huh?!”

“For a hero...you’re pretty dense.” he chuckled, nearing his face closer. “I asked your name, Hun.” he winked. “Won’t you tell me?”

“Y/N.” you replied breathlessly. “My name is Y/N.” Why did you tell him that, you had no clue. Idiot!

“Okay then Y/N.” he neared his face towards yours. “7:00 tonight...okay?”

“Uh huh.” you nodded.

“Wonderful, I’ll see you tonight, princess.”

...

You sat at the bar stool, spinning around lazily. You called all of your friends, your parents, hell even your grandparents. You didn’t tell them the details, but you told them if you didn’t message them back by 9:00 AM the next morning, call you just in case.

“What can I get you?” the barkeep walked up, wearing a kind smile on his face. You suddenly remembered that Keigo had told you, and you didn’t trust it one bit. “Can I get a water please?”

“Coming right up, young lady.” the older man kindly looked at you. “Anything for the former Number 1 hero!”

You giggled bashfully. “Please, that was years ago.” you shook your head. “I appreciate it though.” you smiled. Hero work, the bane of your existence. Your past buddies and partners had all begged you not to leave, but with the amount of scars and suffering you endured, you had no choice.

You wouldn’t put yourself through that again, not for anyone.

“Here you are miss.” the glass was set in front of you.

“Thanks.” you put your hand over the top of the glass. Now that it was in yoru hand, you could move accordingly. “I was also supposed to meet someone here?...Told me to tell you to expect me...Keigo Takami?”

The barkeep’s face fell, fear striking his features. “O-oh! You’re Mr. Takami’s company for the night! I’m supposed to escort you to his special booth.”

“Special booth?” you repeated.

“Y-yes, please follow me!” he urged. “Only VIPs are allowed back here, but he rented out the entire back area just for you!”

You felt your senses go off, fight or flight mode. Now or never. You reached in your purse. Knife, check. Mace, check....Gun...check.

The kind barkeep took you to a back area. It looked like the main dining area, only a lot more high end. Slow jazz music was playing in the background and the lights were low. He was right, there was no one here...except one person.

He dawned a brown leather jacket, black skinny jeans and those all to familiar boots. He tapped his fingers against the table as he stared down at his phone.

“Mr. Takami. She’s here.”

Keigo looked up with that shit-eating smirk. “Thank you Hideo, leave us.”

The barkeep stalked off leaving you alone. You suddenly felt out of place. You looked around, taking note of the city beaming outside the windows.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

You looked back over at Keigo again, almost surprised. “Yeah, it is.” you nodded.

He motioned next to him. “You wanna sit down or are you gonna stand there staring at me? I don’t bite.” he winked.

Silently, you sat down, still keeping your distance from the man. You were about a good two feet away from him. You weren’t too keen on getting any closer.

“I’m surprised you came. I thought you’d find a way to get out of this.”

“I am too, but I figured I’d entertain this idea...just for tonight.” you shrugged. “Don’t try anything, got it?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Keigo cracked a genuine smile. You looked stunning and he wanted to tell you that. He wouldn’t admit it, but he knew about you when you were going by your hero alias. He recognized the way you walked, the way you spoke. You could have killed that freak who hit on you if you wanted to. However you didn’t. He was curious about that.

“Why did you ask me out?” you raised an eyebrow before he could get a word out.

“I’ll let you know in a minute.” he winked. “I’m more interested in you.”

“Like what?” you raised an eyebrow. “How interesting can I be?”

Keigo didn’t want to say he did extensive research on you and couldn’t find shit. It drove him crazy. It was making him go quite literally insane. He was more that interested. He was invested. When he didn’t answer, you sighed.

“You tell me first.” you crossed your arms. “I know your reputation proceeds you.” you raised a brow.

“Princess, that’s not how this works.” he tried to sound as if he was joking. “I ask the questions here.”

“Well it is today.” you shrugged. “Either we have an even exchange or you’re out of luck.” you shrugged. “You decide.”

Keigo stared blankly at you. You were a tough nut, that was for sure. Plus you sure as hell weren’t afraid of death. That must have meant you had no idea what he was capable of. Then again, it must have been your Hero Side taking a stance.

After what felt like a minute, he sighed in defeat. “...A friend of mine was killed by a hero.” he confessed. “You ever hear of someone called The Bronze Monk?”

“That name sounds familiar?” you raised an eyebrow. “He’s another hero, right? He can turn his fists into bronze.” You tried to recall.

“Mhm...He killed my friend.” Keigo clenched his fist. “I did 6 years because of him....”

“I don’t understand.” you raised an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with you?”

“This was while you were dominating the game I guess, so I don’t blame you for not knowing.” he shrugged and he slapped a hand on the table. “HIDEO! TWO BEERS.”

“So I’m confused. I heard The Bronze Monk died mysteriously...he fell from over 500 stories...”you paused. You took to time to noticed that Keigo has aired out his wings this time around. You didn’t even noticed he HAD wings. “It was all over the-...wait a second...You never said who your friend was.”

“She was a- she was a villain.” Keigo sighed. “She was like a sister to me and I was tryna get her to stop being so dumb...turn over a new leave and she was doing so well! Shit, but...one day she dumbly got into a fight with that asshole and I watched my friend die right there.” Keigo hitched his words slightly.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” you said sadly, regretting opening your big mouth. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No...it’s fine. I guess in order to move on I gotta talk about it right?” he sat up straight as the barkeep came back with two mugs and quickly stalked back off. “I was so blinded by my own anger. What type of hero would go out of their way to punish someone trying to make amends....” he seethed. “I flew him up to the tallest building in the city and dropped him...I only got off on good behavior...”

It finally all made sense, to you at least. You let what he said marinate and sit well...it felt surreal.

“So.” Keigo grabbed his glass and took a huge gulp. “I’ve said my peace. You’re turn.”

You stared at this guy for what felt like ages. Something told you that this guy couldn’t be trusted. All the alarms were going off at the same time...but for some reason-

“My parents wanted me to be a hero.” you said. “My quirk is hereditary, so it’s passed from person to person.” you shrugged. “I loved saving people, helping people...then-” you paused. “I saw how corrupt, and hateful, and disgusting these so-called heroes were...I lost someone important to me too.”

Keigo raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested. You took a swig of beer, trying to gather your thoughts.

Keigo took note of the way you were fiddling with your left hand. Your thumb grazed over your ringer finger as if something was missing...something important.

“Who was the guy?” Keigo asked, snapping you out of your trance. He had a gut feeling he already knew, but he wanted to hear it from your mouth.

“...H-he was um...we dated since high school.” you shrugged. “We were a team, him and I.” you smiled at the memory. “When he turned his back on the hero world, they turned their back on him too.”

“Meaning?”

“They sold him out.” you choked. “They left him for dead and told me he would be okay. I should have gone back for him but they held me back, they told me there were other people that needed my help.”

“What happened when you learned the truth?” Keigo asked. He only knew that a poor hero lost his life, he didn’t know that the only other survivor just so happened to be his future wife.

“I had to choose...my friends and my morals or being a hero. If anyone knows just how two faced and conniving these people are, it’s me.” you shuddered. “I’ve met traitors, and killers disguised as good guys. At one point I couldn’t take it anymore and I gave up! Forget being number 1, forget status, forget everything...Being a hero...lost me everything.”

“Hm. Thank you for sharing that with me, Princess.” he replied. “It must have been hard to do...it’s nice to know you trust me so much.”

“It was only fair, I guess.” you boredly drank. “It not that big a deal.” you stared down at your fingers. “It was years ago, I’ve moved on.”

Keigo took note of how your mood faltered. He couldn’t have that.

“Hey, look at me?”

“Hm?” you looked up from your glass.

“I’m sure where ever your fiancé is, whatever he’s up to. He doesn’t blame you.” he put a hand over yours. “He wouldn’t hate you for moving on either.”

“He wouldn’t?” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know?”

Keigo couldn’t answer, he just wanted to say something, anything, to put a smile on your face. It was like a second nature in such a short time. He wanted to be your hero. “It’s just a hunch...you shouldn’t be afraid to move on...sometimes all you need is a push out the nest.” he winked as his wings twitched behind his back.

“Bird humor? Really?” you scoffed.

“It’s what I do, princess.”

...

After the heavy and depressing, you don’t think you laughed that hard in years.

“Wait hold on.” you stopped laughing. “Pause for a minute! You, with those big ass wings got your ass handed to you by some chump named ‘The weather man?’” you were crying from laughing so hard.

“He could control the wind!” he defended, also laughing. “You shoulda seen it!”

“Well maybe you need to exercise your quirk more.” you crossed your arms.

“As if you’re the master of your own.” he playfully rolled his eyes.

“As a matter of fact, I am!” you raised an eyebrow. “Shall I demonstrate?” you scooted out the booth and stood up. “Don’t blink or you might miss it.”

Keigo leaned back in his seat, now very interested in what you were about to display for him. He watched your eyes narrow in focus as you held your hands out in front of your face. Slowly, a very tiny tornado formed in your hands, small and handheld. This mini tornado was soon replaced by a tree sprouting out of the top. You waved your hand around and miraculously summoned rain out of your palm.

“Okay Y/N, focus.” you mumbled. Suddenly, out of everything, a flame erupted from the center of your hand.

He watched in awe, he had never heard of anyone with a quirk like this one before. With another flick of the hand, everything you had summoned disappeared. “Ta-da!”

“That was amazing.” he commented as your sat down. “What was that??”

“I come from a long line of ‘benders’. Funny name, I know.” you giggled. “I can bend another element...spirit. I can only do it when I’m really happy though.”

“Why didn’t you try that one?”

“...I said I can only do it when I’m happy.” you smiled sadly. It didn’t take long for Keigo to catch on.

“Oh.” he raised a brow. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s alright.” you shook your head. “Ever since...he died...I’ve never been able to do it.” you shrugged. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to.”

“I’d love to witness that.” Keigo laced his fingers within yours, making your face heat up. “I bet it’s beautiful.”

“...S-shush.” you scoffed, looking away bashfully.

Suddenly the song changed, a slow jazz song began playing. A slow beat, with soft drums and what you could describe as a romantic saxophone.

“Dance with me.” he held out his hand.

You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully as you took his hand and stood up. He guided you to the middle of the floor. he pulled you flush against his chest. The slow music seemed to drown out the hustle of the city noise outside. He hummed thoughtfully, singing to the tune for you.

“You never told me.” you mused as you two moved in sync.

“Told you what, princess?”

“Why did you ask me out?”

“Truth be told, something drew me to you.”

“Like what?” you innocently stared. “What about me could possibly interest you?”

“Out of everything you’ve told me, everything really.” he bit his lip. “You’re amazing, everything about you.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself, Keigo.” you shyly replied. You turned around and rested your back against his chest. He rested his head in the divot of your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around your waist, guiding you along to the music.

He was right, he wouldn’t leave you, not now. Not ever.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go for it, princess.”

“If I admitted I was wrong about you, would you hold it against me?”

Keigo nearly froze. A shock was sent up his spine as the words left your lips. “You shouldn’t say things like that, princess.”

“How come?” you turned around to face him.

“I want to-” he bit his lip. A gentle hand rested on the base of your neck, his thumb caressing your throat. He laid a kiss on your lips, passion dripping off of every peck. His tongue slipped through the small gap as he moaned against your mouth. You whimpered and shivered feeling his tongue dominate your mouth. He responded with sounds of his own. Shaky breathes and low groans.

You responded to his touch, allowing his hands to travel under your shirt. “Keigo.” you whimpered. Your feverishly ran your hands through his hair, practically gluing your bodies together. You felt his fingertips creep under shirt, dancing across your skin. “W-we can’t do this here.”

“You’re totally right.” he didn’t cease, instead opting to kiss down your neck. “So...my place or yours.”

You felt yourself lose all sense of direction. “Y-yours.”

“You’ve just opened up Pandora’s Box, princess.”

...

You fell back on his bed, crawling backwards. He rid himself of that jacket and his shirt, leaving him to flex his muscles, his wings, and everything. You stared up, trembling in anticipation.

Your friends would probably kill you, but you didn’t particularly care. You hugged yourself, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.

Keigo loved it. It meant you still had innocence flowing in your veins, not for long. He would toy with your brain. He would bend you to his will and drive you insane with lust. You would be the perfect sidekick for him. He stalked over to you, biting his lip.

“Look at you.” he mused. “You’re so cute.” he giggled. He rested a knee at the edge of the bed, beginning to crawl towards you.

You noticed his wings were spread wide, covering over you two like a shield.

“C-can I?”

“Go ahead Princess.” he smiled knowingly. He had the look as if he knew something you didn’t. You reached a trembling hand to gently brush his beautiful feathers. A low groan erupted from his throat.

“Oh my gosh! Am I hurting you?” you almost withdrew your hand back.

“Don’t stop...please.” he growled lowly.

It was only then you realized, this was turning him on. You ran your hands through his feathers. They were soft, shiny even.

“Enough!” he grabbed your hand and pinned it above your head. “Look at you, princess. All ready for me.” he laughed. “I wonder how wet I can make that pussy for me.” he used his other hand to fumble with the button of your jeans.

You trembled under his touch, feeling your pants slide down your legs. You were completely drowned in your own lust. A fire was prominent in your chest. You were shaking under his fingertips.

“Enjoy this, princess.” he winked before crawling down. He lifted your shirt up and planted little kisses along your stomach. He grabbed the hem of your panties with his teeth and pulled them down.

You were squirming in anticipation, waiting.

“You smell so...so-” he didn’t finish his sentence because he had drove his tongue up your slit. A gasp escaped your lungs. Absentmindedly, you had grabbed a fist full of his hair.

“Fuuuh~” you couldn’t speak. You weren’t even sure he’d be able to hear your over the sound of your wetness. You could feel your water dribble down your thighs.

“Wrapped your legs around my head.” he growled, digging his nails into your thighs. “Grind that pussy against my tongue, princess.”

You thrashed against his mouth, feeling warmth gather in the pit of your stomach. “Keigo!”

He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked harshly, making you cry out even louder.

Keigo felt himself lose touch with everything, he was only focused on you in the moment. Fuck, was he hard too. Hearing your moans. Shit, he couldn’t wait to bury himself into you.

“Baby, do you hear that?” he looked up at you as he promptly replaced his tongue with his fingers. “Listen.” he pumped his fingers into you. “You sound so fucking cute” he groaned, mimicking your soft whimpers. “It feels good, yeah?”

You couldn’t speak, so you just nodded.

Suddenly, he yanked his fingers out of you. His head fell forward to rest on your pubic bone. He sounded as if he came just now even if it was you getting all the pleasure.

Like a predator stalking after it’s prey he meet your eyes. He wore a sadistic grin with his bottom lip taken between his teeth. He sat up, fumbling with his belt buckle.

“You ready for me, princess?”

“Yes, p-please?” you whimpered.

Fuck, you couldn’t do that to him. He had a mind to tear you apart where you lay. Your jaw went slack as his cock was released from its restraints. Would that even- Inside you?!

You felt it brush against you, slightly. You met his eyes and froze there. He was staring down at you. He looked absolutely feral. You could barely look away as he slid himself inside your throbbing hole. He painfully slowly rolled his hips into you. He twitched inside as he bucked his hips into you.

“Look at how good we fit together. That’s right.” he managed through clenched teeth. “My cock was meant to be here. I was meant to fuck you.” he snarled.

You tightened around his length as he thrust harder. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” His jaw dropped again. “Say my name, please?”

“K-keigo.” you obeyed. You felt a warmth in your chest as well as your core. It was like a fire was being ignited in the pit of your soul. “I’m gonna-”

“Fuck! Don’t finish that sentence.” he snarled. “You don’t wanna know what I’m gonna do as a result.”

In a swift motion, you were suddenly staring down at Keigo. He had a death grip on your legs as he was now thrusting upwards. You had your hands on his chest in an attempt to support yourself.

“I think I like you more when you’re riding me.” he bit his lip. “You look so fucking sexy. Those moans, that body, your pretty fucking pussy-”

“Keigo, please! I can’t it anymore.”

“Oh yeah, you gonna cum? You wanna cum for me, baby?” he spoke in a babyish voice. “You wanna cum all over Papa Bird’s cock? Do it, do it for me...ARGH FUCK!”

You felt his warmth inside you at the exact same time you had came. He was shaking under you, rolling his hips upwards to relieve the friction he had caused.

Keigo stared in amazement at a bright light erupted from your chest, a small bird in the shape of smoke began flying around the room.

“That would be spirit.” you laughed tiredly, watching the quirk you had thought died reactivate out of nowhere.

“I hope you know...you can never leave me now.” Keigo sat up to lay kisses on your neck. “You’re mine now.”

(AND DONE! This was Hawks debut on the blog so lets all give hem a huge hello!)

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ray-ray-writings · 4 years

Text

Warming Up-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp! In this, we’re going to pretend that every village has a name, you’ll see why.

TW: Mention of domestic abuse. It’s very very brief, like one sentence long.

Check out my masterlist here!

Philza and Techno find something in the snow that definitely shouldn’t be there and take it back to Techno’s house to warm up

Technoblade’s POV

There wasn’t supposed to be anyone but Philza and me on this path. Ever. It was the path that Philza and I trekked to get from my home in the tundra to L’Manberg and vice versa. It was only known by the two of us. There shouldn’t have been anyone else here, it’s hidden… Lot of good that did me.

The walk started normally. Philza and I left his house in L’Manberg to go back to mine. I had something to show him and he wanted to come see it. So we took off down our path, bundled up tight. We walked for many blocks, making random conversation about the goings on in the server. We had almost made it back to my house, only about 150 blocks to go. I didn’t notice the body, Phil did. He was in the middle of a sentence and cut himself off with a gasp.

“What?” I questioned, really confused as to what was happening. He said nothing, only rushed forward further down the path. I immediately hopped into action and followed behind him. There was no way I was letting my father run off on his own. I watched, almost in amazement, as Philza dropped to the ground and slid on his knees, coming to a stop as he leaned over something on the ground.

As I joined him at his side, he shrugged off his winter coat and placed it on the ground. “Dadza, what are you-” My question froze in my throat as I looked to the ground. There, lying unconscious in the snow, was a person. They had cuts and bruises strewn about their face, a deep red stain soaked their shirt, telling us they were injured. Their eyes were closed, but short shallow breaths puffed from their parted blue lips letting me know they were alive. “Who is that?” I croaked, dropping to my knees beside my father. “I don’t know. I don’t recognize them. And how they got all the way out here is an absolute miracle,” Dadza stated, grabbing their arm to check their hearts. They’re health bar was a little below half but after a few moments of staring at it, they lost half a heart.

“We need to get them inside… Do you mind?” I let out a sigh, I knew what he was asking. As much as I didn’t want a housemate, I couldn’t just leave this person to freeze. “Yeah, okay. Just put your coat back on. I don’t need you freezing too. My internal body temperature is hot enough for me, I’ll give them my cloak,” I grumbled, a little begrudgingly. Dadza gave a quick nod before pulling his coat off of the person and slipping it on to his own body once more.

In one swift motion, I unclasped the cape and swung it around and laid it down on the person. “I’ll carry them bridal style. Let’s hope they don’t have back injuries,” I muttered, standing up, Dadza doing the same. I quickly bent down and scooped them up in arms, stumbling a little under the weight, but Dadza’s arm held me steady. Dadza tucked my cape closer to the unconscious person’s skin before the two of us trudged back to my cabin.

Once we had made our way to the house, I quickly brought the stranger into my living room. “Dadza,” I announced motioning my head to the couch and then to the fireplace. He took the hint and pushed the piece of furniture closer to the fire. I slowly leaned down and placed the person down on my couch. Once I was sure they were secure, I turned to my father, “Do you want to get the blankets or the first aid kid?” “I’ll get the first aid kit and begin taking care of their wounds. I’ll begin on their stomach as it’s obvious they’re bleeding from there.”

The two of us walked further into my home to do our respective tasks. I couldn’t help the grumbles that escaped my lips. So much for having a fun day with my father. After gathering my warmest blankets, my dresser caught my eye. I let out an annoyed sigh before walking over and getting an old sweatshirt of mine and some sweatpants. It’s obvious their clothes are ruined, you know, cause of the blood stain… Why did this have to happen to me?

Philza was already working on their face by the time I entered the room. He looked relieved at the sight of me. “They’re clothes are ruined… I’ll dress them if you want to prep whatever you were going to show me,” Dadza offered as I set the items on the back of my couch. I gave him a short nod and turned around. I was glad Philza had offered to take care of them. It’s not that I wouldn’t, I just don’t think I’d be very good at it. Besides, I had other things to do anyway.

*Time skip and POV Change*

Y/N’s POV

It was warm. Too warm. Hot. Why is it so hot? Aren’t I in the tundra… Wait is that a fire? Crackling? Oh god, I’m going to be burned alive.

My eyes snapped open and a gasp escaped my lips as I attempted to sit up as fast as I could. A shooting pain in my stomach caused me to gasp again and fall back into the sno-- nope this isn’t snow. My eyes scanned the room wildly and found that I was in a cabin, lying on a couch, next to a fireplace. Once again, I attempted to sit up, but was too weak to do it on my own causing a hiss to pass my teeth, “Woah there,” A gentle voice called as a friendly hand placed itself on my back, gently lifting me up and helping me sit up and lean against the arm of the couch. My eyes focused on a blonde man with a soft complexion in front of me. His eyes raised from his hands to my eyes, “You alright?” He asked softly. I felt comforted in his presence. Something from deep within me told me to trust him. So I did.

I gave a slow nod, noticing that when I did my skull pounded. “Yeah,” I croaked, my throat extremely dry, “I’m okay… Thanks… Not to be rude but who are you and where am I?” I asked, my eyes scanning around the room once more. The blonde man let out a small laugh as he backed away from me, not going far. Just far enough to give me some space. “I’m Philza, you can call me Phil. My son, Technoblade, and I found you on our journey home a few hours ago. You were unconscious in the snow. As for where you are-” “You’re in my house,” a monotone voice cut Phil off. My eyes shifted to where the voice sounded, they didn’t have to go far.

At the other end of the couch stood an extremely attractive tall man, pink hair framing his scar littered face. “And who are you?” I asked hoarsely, my throat still very dry. “I’m his son… Well one of them. I’m Technoblade and you’re in my house,” he stated, his eyes boring into me. I gave a small hum of acknowledgement, remembering that it hurt when I nodded. “Here,” He said, passing a cup to his father before his father handed me the cup along with a few pills. “For your pain,” Philza murmured, pressing the cup and the pills into my hand.

I eagerly lifted the cup to my throat and allowed the cool liquid to coat my throat before bringing the small pills to my lips and swallowing them as well. Bringing the cup down and my hand up to my mouth to dry my upper lip, I noticed I wasn’t in my clothes. “Your clothes were… damaged. So we put you in some of Techno’s old clothes. I changed you. I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” Philza stated, his eye shifting nervously. I gave him a small shrug, “It’s fine. You guys saved me. You didn’t have to. Thank you,” I said, my eyes shifting between the two.

Philza gave me a soft smile, and Techno was still staring into my soul, “It’s what anyone would do… Would you mind telling us your name?” Philza asked, trying not to intrude. “Oh! I’m Y/N… I’m from the Village of Blockley!” I informed the two. Both sets of eyes widened in disbelief at my announcement. “Blockley? That’s well over 2,000 blocks away from here! Why have you come all this way?” Philza questioned in shock. “It’s a bit of a long story…” I trailed off, not really wanting to bother them with my sob story. “We’ve got time,” Philza prompted, motioning for me to continue. I turned my head to get confirmation from the other man. He gave me a small shrug before sitting down on the arm of the couch, folding his arms and leaning in toward me. I let out a sigh before shrugging… Here we go.

“I was born and raised in Blockley. As I grew up, I got tired of the same old routine. Wake up, go to work with my father, the town’s cleric, break for lunch, back to work, work till sundown, be inside as soon as it’s dark, go to sleep, wake up the next morning and do it all over again. I wanted to leave, find something new, something exciting. I told my father all of this. He thought the idea of me leaving was stupid. He told me that there was no way that anywhere else would accept me and that I would be left alone, defenceless and I would come crawling back to the village. I disagreed, of course. We got into a verbal fight and it escalated. My father struck me. And then he threw me out, told me that if I wanted to leave then to leave and never come back. I would never be welcome back in the Village of Blockley… So I left.

“I wondered for a very very long time. I had very little supplies and no sense of direction. I somehow ended up in tundra completely under prepared… I was about to go back the way I came when I was attacked by a zombie. I had never fought before, we had an iron golem to take care of it and I was always inside by sundown. Well I killed it, but not without a few injuries and completely draining my body. I was limping back the way I came once more, but a skeleton shot me in the stomach causing me to collapse in the snow. I think he thought I was dead, so he left me alone. That’s the last thing I remember. And now I’m here because you saved me… And for that I owe you my life.”

Silence followed my story for many moments. The two seemed absolutely stunned at my story. As I was about to speak again, arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders carefully, still mindful I was sore. “Jesus kid,” Phil mumbled in my shoulder, “I’m so sorry. You don’t owe us anything kiddo. You can stay here as long as you like,” He offered gently. Tears pricked in my eyes as I squeezed the older man back. This is just what I needed a fatherly figure to tell me I was welcome somewhere. Wait, it’s not his house.

Still in the hug, my head shifted to Techno. He seemed angry, but somehow I knew that it wasn’t aimed at me. The two of us locked eyes, “He’s right Y/N,” Techno spoke carefully, “You can stay here as long as you want. You’ll always be welcome in my home.” And there go the tears. A small sob escaped my lips. I had only just met these people, but I knew that I was always meant to find them. “Oh don’t cry honey,” Phil tried to comfort in a panic.

A watery laugh escaped my lips as I buried my face in his broad shoulder, “These are happy tears Phil. I promise. Thank you. Thank you for welcoming me. That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

*Time skip*

I could tell that Techno was really having to work on getting used to having another person in his house. Every morning I would walk into the kitchen and he would jump, go to draw a weapon, and then his eyes would meet mine and he would let his guard down before going back to whatever it was he was doing. He would take me with him to explore or gather materials but the words that were spoken between us were few and scarce. I didn’t mind though. I knew that it was definitely a new and sudden change for him to have to deal with. So I made myself as useful as possible.

When Techno would leave me home alone, I would spend that afternoon cleaning and organizing the house so that by the time Techno returned the house was spotless. I would also make sure there was food ready for him when he got back home so he wouldn’t have to worry about making himself something to eat. I always took the time to ask about his day, even if his answers were short and choppy. I could tell that he often felt awkward in the silence between us, so I filled it. I would always talk to him, tell him about my day, the new gossip I heard from Phil, or just about nothing and everything. On days I didn’t want to talk, I would play soft music throughout the house so the silence wasn’t so deafening.

I could tell that my actions were slowly but surely warming the thought of me living with Techno up. I would catch small smiles that painted his face out of the corner of my eye as I babbled about how Philza had taught me a new bread recipe. My question of how his day was was met with longer explanations about what the pink headed man had done that day. Fond looks he didn’t know I could see would settle on his face as he found me taking things out of chests only to put them in different ones. The day I heard Techno laugh was the day I found my favorite sound.

As cliché as it is, as the two of us grew closer, I found myself falling deeper… Deeper in love with the man that had saved me. How could I not? Once he opened up, I found him to be the funniest, kindest, most lovable man ever. Techno tries so hard to appear tough to me, but it doesn’t fool me one bit. I once watched him cry because he stepped on a flower.

“Flowers aren’t supposed to grow in the tundra Y/N. That flower didn’t care, they put all their effort into growing and I crushed it!” He huffed, wiping away the tears that had escaped his eyes. I simply listened with a soft smile and nodded along. That was the day I realized I was in love with him. His fond looks, gentle touches, and soft words told me he felt the same.

“Hey, how’s it going in here?” Techno questioned softly, his hands gently brushing against my lower back. “Hey, it’s going good! Dinner will be ready in like 10 minutes,” I replied, peering into the oven to confirm my guesstimate. Techno hummed in acknowledgement and moved to sit next to me on the open counter. I playfully rolled my eyes at his actions, but couldn’t deny the soft smile that curled on my lips as I chopped carrots for the salad.

“Hey… I wanted to tell you something,” Techno spoke, breaking our peaceful silence. I let out a hum, tilting my head up, “What’s up?” I asked, my eyes locking with his. “I just wanted to tell you that… that I love you,” Techno admitted softly, his eyes not leaving me. The smile on my face widened at the confession. I quickly set down my knife before moving to stand in between his legs. I gently reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck, bringing him down to my lips for a soft kiss. Techno immediately kissed back, his hands moving quickly to settle on my hips, pulling me even closer to him.

“What was that for?” Techno muttered softly after the kiss was broken. “I just wanted to tell you, I love you too,” I murmured, my lips brushing against his as I spoke. “Tell me you love me again,” he demanded. I giggled at his shift of tone but complied, leaning forward and pressing my lips to his once more. Gosh I’m so glad they found me in the snow.

There you have it! I really hope you enjoyed! If so, be sure to leave a like!!

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whoacanada · 4 years

Text

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight.

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

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abundanceofnots · 3 years

Text

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

#toe fic 🍅#my fics #gallavich fic #shameless fanfiction

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

Text

Marriage with a Spin - Loki x Reader - Words: 2,613

A/N: Enemies-ish to Relationship & Fake Relationship trope-ish LOL…Pic below is not mine but simply is for reference about rings...this was the best basis I could find 🤣 I'm using the Spin and Zero rings in this oneshot

Also! A big thanks for @ladylulu143 for helping my come up with a title and for proofreading this for me! 💖💖🤗🤗

"Alright, this is the latest alien artifact we have found," Steve said. He held up a gold ring with a small blue stone. "When on, the wearer can decelerate time around them, appearing to be at superspeed to those watching."

"So what's the deal now?" You asked. Tony brought a picture of another ring on the screen behind Cap.

"This recently popped up on our radar. By the readings we're getting from it, it seems to be related to this guy here. However, it's being held in this mansion," Tony said, clicking to the next picture. "Owned by billionaire Samuel Thatcher."

"So what am I doing here again?" Loki asked flippantly.

"Mr. Thatcher is holding a gala tomorrow night. You and Miss Y/L/N will be attending and will conveniently slip away at some point during the evening to retrieve the ring from his vault."

"Loki and me?" You exclaimed. "Why? Would you fit in much better at one of those swanky parties?"

"Everyone knows me, Y/N," Tony said, rolling his eyes.

"What about Steve then? He knows how to dance and be all proper! He's from the 40's for goodness sake!"

"Have you ever seen me try to fit in at one of those, how did you say it, swanky parties?" Steve asked with a smirk. "You two have enough class to fit in. Besides, the vault is secured by a fingerprint and retinal scan. The only person here who could pull that off is Loki."

"That is true," Loki replied with a smirk.

"Fine. What time is it?" You groan.

"6pm tomorrow," Steve answered. You nodded and got up to leave. "Oh! And one more thing!" You turned around suspiciously and saw an unnerving smile plastered across the face of America's Golden Boy. "You're going as Mr. & Mrs. Hank and Audrey Williams."

"Mister and Misses?" You both exclaimed. Steve nodded and Tony was smirking.

"Don't forget this!" Tony said, tossing the ring to you.

"Is this supposed to be my wedding ring?" You asked sarcastically.

"Actually no," Steve said. "It would seem that the ring only works on the right middle finger."

"Great. So what am I supposed to do about this?" You asked, wriggling your left fingers.

"No need to worry, darling," Loki replied. He waved his hand and a beautiful gold and emerald wedding band appeared on your finger. "Now, shall we go to my room and prepare for the rest of this delightful mission?" He asked, a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

"Of course, my dear," You replied, rolling your eyes.

The next day, Loki came to your room at about 3 in the afternoon. "What do you want, Loki?" You growled, quite annoyed that he was bothering your 'me-time'.

"Change into your uniform and meet me in my room in 5 minutes. We need to prepare." He turned to walk away but you grabbed his arm.

"Why? We should be resting before our mission tonight! I thought we already did all our planning yesterday!"

"Tactical, yes. But not practical." He once again turned away and started down the hallway. You groaned and ran after him.

"What do you mean practically? We get fancied up, we go, we get the ring, we leave. If we get in any sort of confrontation, we fight and then we leave! Simple!"

"What are you going to wear?"

"Well I can't show up in tactical so I have this old party dress. It's not perfect but it'll do I guess."

"No it will not. Where will you put your weapons? What if you need to run? Or fight?" Loki listed off his objections quickly and tutted at you. "No, no. That simply will not do."

"Well what do you suggest, oh great fashion god," You replied sarcastically. Loki rolled his eyes and waved his hand. "Oh my!" You gasped. He'd transformed your current outfit into a lovely floor length, emerald green dress. He even outfitted you with jewelry!

"And I can do the same with your-what did you call it? Tactical gear?"

"Ok, ok," you chuckled. "Thank you. I really appreciate it." You smiled genuinely and, for a moment, you thought he would return the sentiment. But he kept his disinterested demeanor and whooshed away the dress.

"I'll return it later when you're ready. You will need to do your own hair and makeup." You nodded and headed back to your room till the evening.

That night, you stood at your mirror adding the finishing touches to your mascara when suddenly there was noise beside you. Jumping in surprise, you accidentally smeared the mascara on your face. "Loki!" You exclaimed, seeing the mischievous prince standing in your room. "You scared me!"

"Well, I am naturally terrifying." You rolled your eyes and turned back to the mirror to fix your face.

"There! All done," You announced. "Well, with the exception of my dress and-" Before you could even finish he had cast his illusion upon your clothing.

"Enough with your blathering. Let's go."

"Hmph. And here I had hope you'd finally removed your head from your-"

Later at the Gala, Loki was being the perfect gentleman. Very suave and debonair. You were impressed. Of course you had to play your part too. You were smiling at his side, holding his arm. You both mingled for a while, trying to get a feel of the room, before he asked if you wished to dance. A bit surprised, you simply nodded. He whisked you out to the dance floor gracefully and pulled you close.

"The vault is downstairs. We need to find an excuse to slip out soon," He whispered to you.

"What if I pretend to be ill?" You offered.

"Someone would undoubtedly take you upstairs to one of the bedrooms to rest. That is the opposite of what we're trying to accomplish."

"But what if I'm afraid of heights?" You countered. He quirked an eyebrow at you and chuckled lowly.

"That is a terrible idea. Only you would think of it."

"I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered. And I think the problem is I have really fantastic bad ideas." He smirked and shook his head in disbelief.

"At least you own up to it," He teased. You grinned, unable to help yourself from staring at him. Though you were on a mission, he seemed so relaxed. This was definitely his element. "You're staring, my dear."

“You are very attractive. Therefore I will stare at you," You admitted. He blushed brightly and looked away but then his eyes lit up.

"I've got it!" He stepped back and led you off the dance floor towards the open bar. "Follow my lead," He hissed. "Would you get me a drink, sweet? You know what I like," He said, somewhat loudly.

"Of course, darling," You replied. When you returned with your drinks you noticed Loki was staring at a group of young women. They had noticed him too and were smiling back at him. "What are you looking at?" You asked innocently, handing him his glass.

"Oh nothing," He replied quickly, turning away. You made a point of following his previous line of sight and made eye-contact with the still giggling females.

"Nothing?" You yelled. "You call that nothing? You were flirting again! Staring at some other woman!"

"I find them very attractive. Therefore I will stare at them," He replied. You held back a laugh, realizing what gave him the idea. "You know how I am," He purred, trying to move closer to you again.

"Get away from me!" You yelled, stepping back and throwing your glass on the floor. This drew everyone's attention. "You disgust me, Hank. This was your last chance and you botched it up! I'm going home!" You turned on your heel and stormed out.

"Audrey! Audrey! Please wait!" He called out. He ran after you into the grand hallway where you were pretending to be searching for your keys. You both noticed the small collection of men, including Mr. Thatcher, who were watching you from the ballroom doors. "Please, darling, can't we discuss this?"

"At home," You finally said. He nodded and held the front door for you. You both stepped outside, out of view, and then you activated the ring. It felt weird, time slowing around you, but you moved past your surprise and got to work. You ran back into the ballroom and very carefully chipped a very important supporting piece of one of the ice sculptures on the table. Giving it a small tap, you then ran back out to the main entrance and positioned yourself just outside the doors where you could still have a view of the main hallway. You deactivated the ring and heard the crash of the ice. Immediately, the men looking into the hallway ran back in, leaving the hallway unwatched. You and Loki were now free to sneak back into the mansion.

"The vault is downstairs but only accessed here," Loki murmured, leading you to a hidden staircase.

"Typical," You chucked, only mildly surprised by the motif. When you got down there, you noticed there were three levels of security. A key, a fingerprint scanner, and a retinal scanner. "Oh great! How are we supposed to get through that?"

"Never fear, my darling," Loki replied with a smirk. "Remember why they chose me?" He then changed, taking on the appearance of the party's host, Mr. Thatcher. He quickly got past the fingerprint and retinal scan but the key was still needed. Changing back to himself, he said, "The guards have keys."

"There are guards down here?" You whisper-yelled. Loki rolled his eyes frustratedly but before he could reply you heard footsteps coming down the hall.

"Follow my lead!" Loki demanded.

"Wha-" Loki interrupted you with a kiss and pushed you against the wall. You gasped in surprise but you had to admit to yourself he was talented.

"What are you doing down here?" The guard exclaimed. Loki slowly pulled away from you with the guiltiest expression on his face. You knew it was fake of course, but the guard was tricked.

"Were we not to be here?" He asked, voice slightly higher than usual. "We were only trying to find a-" He paused, smirking slightly. "A more private location." The guard shook his head and chuckled.

"Whatever floats your boat, man," He replied. "But I would suggest exploring the upstairs bedrooms." He gave them both a little wave and headed back around the corner.

"I’m going to strangle you," You said as soon as the guard was out of earshot.

"Oh please! You can’t even reach my neck," Loki replied. You grabbed his tie and pulled him down, pretending to be moving for another kiss. However, you tapped his neck lightly and smirked.

"Gotcha!" You giggled quietly and then held out your hand. "Oh! And look what I got!" She held up the key ring for the door. "While you were busy embarrassing yourself, I used my telekinesis and got the key!"

"Of course you did! That was my plan all along," Loki replied.

"Pretending to love you is like a walk in the park. Jurassic Park," You grumbled. Loki grabbed your sides and growled in your ear as you opened the vault door. "You're so weird!" You hissed, walking in and trying to find the ring.

"And you’re so weird it’s attractive," He retorted, finding the box immediately and tossing it to you.

"Well, if I’m weird with you, I’m comfortable," You admitted. Loki looked at you in surprise but you just shrugged. "Look, you really piss me off sometimes, but," you paused. "Somehow I still like you."

"And I you, my dear," He replied. "Now as much as I would love to continue this discussion I do suggest you figure out how to use that thing and we get out of here!" You put on the ring, trying it on a few different fingers before you found the correct one.

"Ok, let's see what it does." When you activated it, it shot a cold blast at the shelf in front of you, encasing it in ice. "Cool!" You joked. Loki shook his head and grabbed your arm, trying to hurry out. Just as you got to the top of the stairs, you heard footsteps.

"Well well well," Mr. Thatcher growled, blocking your exit. A few of his goons stood behind him as well. "Mr. & Mrs. Williams was it? I don't think so," he sneered.

"Well, I don't think so either but we're not doing this today!" You shot them all with the ice and Loki shoved them out of the way. You both heard more footsteps down the hallway and looked at each other nervously. "Do you trust me?" You asked. Loki nodded.

"With my life." You gave him a tight smile and activated the Spin ring. You ran down the hallway and found where the other goons were at. You tried to use the Zero ring, with the ice powers, but found yourself unable to control it's aim.

"Well that's fantastic," you grianed. Rethinking your plan, you went back to get Loki. There was no way you'd both be able to get out of there at normal speed so you had one option. Lug Loki out yourself at super-speed.

"What the heck? Do you weigh 500 pounds or something?" You groaned when you couldn't pull or carry him. "Ok, last option. I hope this works," You muttered. You focused almost all your energy on moving Loki using your telekinesis. It was slow going, but at super-speed, you still would beat the bad guys. By the time you got him out the door to safety, you were exhausted. You immediately disengaged the ring and he looked around confused.

"How did I get here?"

"Talk later, run now," You gasped, trying to stop the dizziness that had overtaken you.

"Are you alright?" He asked worriedly. You were about to reply when you collapsed, simply too drained to continue.

When you woke up, you felt a cool cloth on your forehead and soft blankets around you. "Where am I?" You groaned.

"I brought you back to the tower. I told the Captain his debriefing could wait," Loki replied. You sat up slowly and looked around. Raising an eyebrow, you stared at Loki questioningly. "Yes, this is my room. I wanted to keep an eye on you while you recovered. I informed the Captain that those rings are very dangerous and should not be used. They obviously were too much for you to handle and-"

"It wasn't the rings," You interrupted. You looked away, somewhat embarrassed. "Well, I was still in super-speed, but I used my telekinesis to get you out. We probably would have been shot otherwise. It used a lot of my energy but it was worth it."

"Oh darling," Loki sighed, gently pushing a stand of hair off your face. "You-" He leaned forward, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead. "You're amazing. I never expected you or anyone to care so much for me!"

"Of course I care!" You replied. "Look, you still drive me insane with some of your tricks. But you're a good guy," You smiled.

"And you're a wonderful woman," He said. You grinned at him happily, still tired but already feeling much better. "So what do you think, should we give us a try?"

"Why not? It may be the first really fantastic bad idea of mine that works out!" Loki smiled and gave you a kiss. You sighed contentedly and leaned on his shoulder when you pulled away.

"Oh darling? One more thing. It was my idea."

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

@darkacademicfrom2021

Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@whatafuckingdumbass

@ladylulu143

#loki #loki x reader #loki oneshot #loki imagine #loki fanfic #mcu fic #marvel #avengers #tom hiddleston #at first I was perpetually bothered by your mere existence #but somewhere along the way you became my best friend #and oh yeah I’m also in love with you #this trope brought to you by a recent post i saw #and i added those tags #🤣

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

A hair’s breadth

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Javier and Reader can’t help but be at each others throats. Javier gets fed up with the teasing one night.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my nineteenth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days!!! Sorry this is out late- I had a job interview!! (I got the job! 🥳) This is based off of this and this request! There’s not as much Spanish in this one- though one day soon I want to try to write all the dialogue for Javier in Spanish- (I am trying to learn how to be better at it im just very nervous I’ll get it all wrong 🙃) Please feel free to drop me a message in my inbox here (I promise I don’t bite) Thank you for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Protected Sex (wrap it up especially with Javier lol), Fingering, Hate fucking, Public sex (who’s surprised), Hair pulling, Choking, Mirror sex

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.9k

“Do that again I dare you.” Javier had you pushed up against the wall of his apartment, with his hand around your throat. How you had gotten in this position was as a result of one of your regular fights you often had with him.

This time it had been over something even more petty than the last time. You honestly couldn’t remember exactly what had started it. It had been something to do with some obscure line in the paperwork you were filling out while over at his apartment late at night past embassy hours. What had been a small issue then turned into a full blown argument, snapping and yelling at each other until it reached its peak.

Javier knew that he shouldn’t have said that just by the look on his face while he had a hand around your throat. You had slapped him after a misogynistic comment, which then had him slamming you up against the wall.

“Fuck you!” You yelled, but did not move to get out of his grip. He was about to respond with probably another biting comment when you were both interrupted.

You both looked over to his front door when there was incessant knocking, which was probably only from one person. “Hey Javi! Do you or Y/N want to go out for a drink tonight?” Steve’s voice being shouted through the walls confirmed the source of the knocks. You were glad his door was closed, otherwise this would've been an awkward situation to explain to your coworker.

Javier looked back at you one last time with a hard look on his face; it was a normal occurrence for you to receive that type of look from him. You smiled despite his hand around your throat as you had gotten what you had wanted, you had succeeded in riling him up.

Steve knocked again, this time a little harsher. He didn’t look away this time, eyes narrowing in on you further, like he was trying to decide if he should release you from his clutches. Though, it wasn’t that you were completely helpless, you could force him off of you if you wanted. But, you wanted to see what he would do.

“Are you going to answer him?” You goaded, biting your lip when you finished speaking, eagerly waiting for his response. No verbal comment came from him, instead he released the hold he had on your neck. You slumped a little, not out of pain as his hold hadn’t been that tight, you had just been surprised when he released you so quickly.

“Lo siento…” Was mumbled under Javier’s breath. You wondered if he meant for you to hear it or if he said it only to ease his conscience.

Javier walked over to the door to swing it open with you in tow, luckily already recovered somewhat from his hand around your throat. Steve jumped slightly when Javier opened it forcefully, then smiling when you both responded to his question, albeit gruffly, “Yeah, sure.”

—-

Javier clenched his fist hard while you took a drink, smirking into the glass was the only indication that you knew exactly what you were doing. You had spruced yourself up a bit to go to the bar, slipping on a dress you had just bought recently and putting on a pair of high heels. As soon as you had appeared back downstairs where Steve and Javier had been waiting for you his jaw had clenched hard, just like his fist was doing right now.

You were sat at the edge of the booth you had all congregated in, Javier was right across from me and Steve was by the window absentmindedly drinking a beer. He didn’t notice how you were sat slightly to the side, inching the dress you wore higher just to see Javier’s fist clench more.

“I’m surprised you guys were actually working together without me there.” Steve scratched at his jaw. We both pretended to partially focus back on him for a moment, Javier’s fist dropped much to my disappointment.

You glanced over at him then giving him one of the biggest lies you’ve ever told, “We’ve found a way to- resolve our differences.”

Javier took an angry gulp of whiskey, somehow it was possible that he was now even more pissed off at you then before. He opened his mouth to probably say something backhanded as usual, but Steve steamrolled him unintentionally, “Well- I’m glad, the office is kinda painful to be in when y’all are having one of your arguments.”

“Well hopefully we won’t bother you anymore.” Javier finally got a word in and it was just as snippy as expected.

You then downed the rest of your drink in one gulp, a little tipsy now from the few drinks you’d had so far. A dull thud from you setting the glass down on the table was swallowed by the noises of the other customers and employees around you. You got up, fed up with getting only little responses from him, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

—-

“Javier what are you doing?” You asked incredulously when he entered the women’s restroom, but weren’t given an answer. You didn’t pull away when he pulled you close, dipping his head to suck a hickey on the underside of your jaw. You only keened into his touch, you may have hated him, but it did feel amazing. Your teasing had worked

“I told Steve I was going to the bathroom too.” Giving a quick summary before continuing his assault on your skin, “You drive me absolutely crazy.” He spitefully said into your skin in between sucking and biting your collarbone. You didn’t care enough to respond, he knew you felt the same. In a flash he pulled your dress off of your head, exposing all of you except what was covered by your bra and underwear.

When he then gripped his fingers around the fabric of your panties and ripped them off, you gasped in anger. He then ran his fingers through your folds, stopping at your clit to run small circles into it. You were still angry about the ruined panties on the floor, and the fact that with just a few touches he was proving why everyone fell at his feet after they slept with them. “I liked those!”

“You seem to like this too.” His fingers sped up their movements, alternating between hard and light pressure. Your orgasm was building embarrassingly quickly, you almost wanted to hold it back so Javier didn’t get a big head. It felt too good though, and you didn’t have a lot of time.

You were both a hair’s breadth away from getting caught, Javier’s fingers continued their movements with no thought. Steve was drunk, he might even be asleep right now. But, one wrong move and he’d hear Javier fucking you in the bathroom.

“Javier!” You shouted, not thinking about the volume, when he pulled his fingers away from you just as you were about to fall off the edge. He then brought his wet fingers to his lips, sucking off any evidence of your arousal. It was hard to be mad when he looked so hot doing that, even though your clit was throbbing now.

“Need to fuck you now- this’ll take too long if we wait for you.” You wanted to snap at him again, his comment flippant and somewhat rude. That was until he pulled his cock out of his pants, already hard just for you. Your mind switched gears after that.

“Condom?” He grunted in response to your question, then pulled one out of his wallet. You were about to ask how long it had been in there, but with the rate he fucks, you doubted it had been there for long.

Once he slipped it on he commanded, “Bend over.” You scoffed, about to retort that you’d never bend over for him. But, Javier beat you to the punch, “I won’t ask again, I’ll leave you here naked and dripping.” You shuddered at that, your arousal was too much to ignore. So, you let him have one victory, hopping off the counter to bend over.

You caught sight of your disheveled state in the mirror, your legs buckling a little because of it. You already looked completely ruined by him, and he hadn’t done much besides fingering you. Javier must have caught you staring at yourself, and him if you were being honest, wrapping his hand around your hair to push you closer to the mirror. “¿Que? You like watching yourself? You like getting fucked while Steve and everybody else could hear you?”

You tried to nod your head, but with his firm grip on your hair while he began to sink into you, all you could do was moan. Once you realized that you were most definitely being too loud you stopped yourself making any noise by biting your lip hard. When the front of Javier’s thighs hit the back of yours he leaned forward to whisper angrily in your ear, “Yeah- you do like this.”

His pace was rough, but not sloppy, quick thrusts that had your ass rippling from the force. This was going to be a quick and dirty fuck, Steve would soon come looking for us if we didn’t get our orgasms over and done with. Besides, all you were looking for was a release, being with Javier for more time than was necessary just sounded like a punishment. Despite the pace he was keeping up, he still managed to keep your head right where he wanted it, looking directly in the mirror.

Your orgasm was building up again, even faster than before since you were already sensitive. At one point when your eyes began to roll back as you got closer Javier snapped that you should keep your eyes open.

“Come on, cum.” He growled out once he noticed how close you were, “Cum while Steve is out there- wondering where we went.”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at that, your orgasm crashing over you. Javier reached his own peak while you were riding out your own, filling the condom, gripping your hair and hip hard as he did.

Once your highs had abated he pulled out of you with a groan, quickly tying off the condom while you were still bent over and recovering with gasped breaths.

“Hey Javier?” You asked right as he began to turn around to go, letting you put your clothes back on and clean up in peace.

“¿Sì?” He turned around to face you again, looking much more put back together than you were with your makeup still smudged. You had the remnants of the panties he had ripped off of you dangling on your finger.

You wrapped your other hand around his belt he put back on, pulling him back closer to you so you were both chest to chest. You then stuffed the scrap of torn fabric into the front pocket of his jeans until they were completely hidden.

“Now you get to sit right next to Steve while they’re in your pocket.” He gulped a little and you gave one last remark before turning back to clean up your makeup, “And, you’ve got to pay for a new pair, I liked those.”

Though he boiled your blood as you walked back to the table where he had joined Steve back at you realized you were only a hairs breadth away from not hating him.

Ask Me Anything

—-

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#javier peña #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader #narcos #javier peña fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #narcos x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #30 fics in 30 days

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hartigays · 3 years

Note

rafe seeing barry’s scars for the first time🥺

warning: mature themes ahead kiddos! (descriptions of violence, mild threats of violence, sexual themes, ur usual rafebarry bullshit)

barry always keeps his shirt on during sex.

rafe really doesn’t get it - he can feel the hard lines of barry’s body through his clothes every time they touch. he knows that what’s underneath is something… something like a feast just waiting to be devoured.

he doesn’t understand why it’s being hid beneath an endless supply of fabric, because rafe is pretty sure whatever barry has going on under there is going to make rafe’s mouth water either way.

tonight, when barry rolls off of him with a grunt, rafe eyes the way barry’s sweat-soaked shirt clings to the toned muscles of his chest, to the soft yet sculpted lines of his stomach. rafe is pretty sure he can see the vague outline of barry’s happy trail, and his fingers itch to just hike the fabric up to barry’s neck so he can see and touch and taste.

rafe doesn’t like things being kept from him. it bothers him.

“you’re really good at that,” rafe starts, slowly. through the darkness of the room, he sees barry glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “you know what would make it better? if you’d take this goddamn thing off.”

rafe plucks at the fabric of barry’s shirt, wrinkling his nose, and barry swats his hand away immediately, almost as if on instinct.

“quit that shit, will you?”

“i just started,” rafe points out, moving his hand back to trace his fingers across the hem of barry’s shirt. “i don’t get why- ”

“don’t bother askin’, country club. you ain’t gonna get what you want,” barry cuts rafe off, then slides out of bed and leaves the room.

rafe can hear the bathroom door open and shut a moment later.

okay, so maybe his approach to getting barry’s shirt off was a little… well, rafe thought it was okay enough. but apparently barry disagrees.

the shirt seems to be staying on. for now.

when barry returns from the bathroom, his face is freshly washed and he has a different shirt on. it’s rattier, but still smells like barry. rafe catches the scent of it as barry crawls back into bed, resisting the urge to just reach out a take what he wants.

which is barry’s shirt, off. rafe would much rather drape the fabric over himself, smother himself in barry, and have the freedom to explore all the exposed skin that has been kept from him.

“you’re keeping things from me,” rafe says into the quiet of the room, his voice careful - steady and controlled. “i don’t like things being kept from me, barry. i don’t like lies.”

rafe can practically feel barry roll his eyes. “the fuck am i lyin’ to you about, baby boy? you ain’t seen my tits so now i’m a liar?”

“i haven’t seen your anything because you’re hiding it from me. and you won’t tell me why,” rafe replies, finally reaching out a hand and taking a fistful of barry’s shirt.

he doesn’t do anything with it besides hold it, but it’s obvious what he wants to do. “i just want to see. just once, at least.”

rafe is pretty sure just once will never in a million years be enough for him, but he doesn’t say that part out loud. it’s like barry hears it anyway, with the way he’s eyeballing him right now, gaze flickering between the fistful of his shirt in rafe’s hand and rafe’s eyes.

“‘m pretty sure you don’t wanna see any of this shit, country club. it ain’t pretty.”

there’s definitely insecurity laced through barry’s words, and rafe wants to shake it right out of him. all of it.

“why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” rafe huffs, wanting to smack barry for being so goddamn stubborn.

it takes another moment, but barry finally concedes. it surprises rafe - he hadn’t thought it’d be so easy to get barry to cave.

but that seems to happen more and more these days, and barry always has this look in his eye when it happens. something that looks a lot like trust. it always sends these delighted little shivers racing down rafe’s spine.

barry lays down on his back, reclining slowly, tucking his hands behind his head. he lets rafe scoot his shirt up, inch by inch, exposing marks and scars as far as the eye can see.

they’re clearly the source of barry’s insecurity, based on the way barry is avoiding rafe’s eyes now, and rafe wants to map out each and every one with his fingers, etching them into his memory like a brand.

rafe stretches out on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, smoothing his hand over the happy trail he knew barry was hiding. when he scratches his nails through the wiry hair, barry shivers.

he feels like he’s conquering undiscovered territory. rafe wonders, fleetingly, if there’s ever been anyone else. any other person who’s been permitted to see the full masterpiece that is barry the fucking coke dealer.

a flare of possessiveness sparks in rafe’s belly, and his physical response is to squeeze one of barry’s pecs in his hands, happily noting the way barry’s eyes flutter shut and his abdominal muscles jump.

“all of it,” rafe says suddenly, tracing an uneven scar that nearly runs the entire length of barry’s sternum. “show me all of it.”

barry’s eyes lock with rafe’s, and he’s never looked more uncertain. rafe just gives barry a challenging look, arching his brows.

finally, barry sits up with a sigh, his back to rafe, and rafe scoots his own body up the bed to prop himself against the pillows. barry tugs his shirt fully over his head, and rafe finally gets what he wants.

barry’s back holds the worst of it, flesh marred and littered with jagged scars, all varying in size.

“‘s always when your damn back is turned,” barry comments, turning his head to look back at rafe, noticing the way rafe is staring at him. “that’s when they get you.”

“they?” rafe asks, his eyes still fixed on barry’s back, the tips of his fingers reaching out and ghosting over a long, rope-like scar twisting its way down barry’s left flank.

“the enemy.”

rafe swallows as he thinks about it, about the violence and the pain and the blood and guts and gore that war brings, a curl of desire settling in the marrow of his bones.

for a moment, he wishes he could’ve traded places with barry during that point in his life. maybe so he could take away some of this insecurity that’s all tangled up inside of barry and make it his own - or maybe just so he could feel the thrill of a fresh kill, all the while adding scars of his own to his collection. little reminders - the forever kind.

most people wouldn’t feel jealous of barry’s experiences. but, rafe cameron isn’t most people.

“tell me about them,” rafe demands, though his voice is gentle. almost soothing, in a way. “what’s this one from?”

rafe scoots closer, tracing a short, thick scar that’s evenly lined up with barry’s shoulder blade.

“ka-bar,” barry says without even turning to look, able to tell just from rafe’s touch alone which scar he’s talking about. “little bastard got me durin’ a raid. never heard him coming til’ he was right fuckin’ behind me.”

rafe’s thumb smooths over the mark, his eyes fixed on it, entranced. he imagines the knife digging into muscle, blood pooling and spilling down barry’s back. his stomach twists, and he can’t decide if it’s a good twist, or bad.

maybe some sort of fucked up combination of both.

“and this one?” rafe asks, running his hand over the long scar winding its way down barry’s flank.

“bootcamp,” barry tells him, his voice a little breathless. “got tangled up in one of them damn climbing walls, y’know, with the ropes ‘n shit? rope burn’s a bitch.”

“that’s an understatement,” rafe mutters, tracing the scar with mild fascination. “rope burn did all this?”

barry shrugs, and rafe can feel the motion of his muscles shifting and resettling beneath his palm. “maybe dug in enough to cut. can’t remember too much about it, some dickhead kicked my damn head so hard i blacked out.”

you don’t have murderous tendencies, you don’t have murderous tendencies, rafe thinks to himself, breathing steadily through his nose to suppress the urge to ask barry what the stupid fuck’s name was so he can look him up, go to his house, and slit his throat in his sleep.

instead, rafe traces his fingers along a round, almost neat scar that sits close to barry’s spine.

“what about this little guy?”

barry snorts. “that little guy? gsw, baby boy. any closer to my spine and i’d be in a chair right ‘bout now. think you’da still fucked me if i came back on wheels, country club?”

rafe knows he would have. he’ll fall together with barry no matter what. they’re bound to it, rafe has decided. something as simple as a wheelchair wouldn’t be enough to block fate. or destiny.

whatever, it doesn’t matter. rafe just sits up, shuffling around until he’s straddling barry’s lap, facing him head-on. he pushes barry’s shoulders until he flops back against the pillows, looking up at rafe almost in earnest. like his whole world hinges on rafe’s response to his question.

instead of giving him one, rafe shifts down barry’s body, angling himself so he’s hovering over barry’s stomach. he kisses his way up barry’s happy trail, cataloguing every soft sigh and whimper so he can replay them all later, like a little symphony in his mind.

“and here? what happened?” rafe asks quietly, his lips ghosting over a jagged, star-shaped scar on barry’s hipbone.

“soviet slug, no rifling. bye-bye bikinis,” barry says in a strange voice, cracking a small smile that rafe can just barely see through the darkness of the room when he looks up.

rafe just stares. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“you- rafe, c’mon, don’t tell me you never seen the winter soldier,” barry groans, and rafe just blinks at him, unimpressed. “shit, you really ain’t seen a damn thing except fight club, huh?”

leave it to barry to ruin the fucking moment. rafe pulls his lips away from the scar, finding a smooth patch of skin nearby to sink his teeth into instead.

barry’s whole body jerks in surprise, but then his fingers tangle in rafe’s hair, holding him in place a little desperately.

rafe releases the skin from between his teeth, sucking at it until it’s nothing but a pretty pattern of teeth marks and bruised skin.

he has the sudden urge to bruise every inch of unmarked skin, his own personal way of claiming his prize. rafe slithers up barry’s body like a snake, coming to a stop at his chest so he can suck pretty little marks anywhere he sees fit. which is everywhere, including a mottled scar that rests just below one of barry’s pecs.

that one has barry keening in surprise, but he doesn’t shove rafe away. instead, he grabs rafe’s chin and lifts his head, forcing their eyes to meet. barry’s pupils are blown wide, and he’s looking at rafe with something that’s akin to fascination.

“you really ain’t got a problem with- with this shit?” barry asks, his voice tight with emotion.

rafe wants to mock him, just for a second, but he won’t risk losing this masterpiece. not now, not after he’s finally laid his claim. knowing barry is his to keep, well. it’s enough to deter him, and fill him with something that feels a lot like want.

“it’s- you’re perfect,” rafe says, his voice just shy of breathless. “like someone threw paint on the mona lisa and finally fucking made it better.”

barry, for a long moment, just stares at rafe, his chest rising and falling rapidly. then he tightens his grip on rafe’s jaw and pulls, causing rafe to lose his balance and topple down on top of barry, their faces nearly colliding.

and then they’re kissing, which is nothing new but it feels new. because so much of barry is new to rafe right now, and he’s starting to lose himself in it.

barry kisses rafe like he’s starving for it, like he’s a desert flower in desperate need of a light rain. rafe can’t breathe and he doesn’t care, he doesn’t need air - he’ll just steal barry’s.

just when he thinks he’s going to pass out, barry pulls back, his thumb stroking along the line of rafe’s cheekbone as he looks up at him.

he gives rafe a look that’s almost adoring, and says, “call me the fuckin’ mona lisa one more time and imma give you some scars of your own, princess.”

rafe just gives barry a wolfish grin, dipping down to nip at his bottom lip, then asks barry one simple, blessedly short question.

“promise?”

#rafebarry #outer banks #ngl this one got away from me LMAO buuuuut here it is anyway! voilà!#barry the secret marvel stan 💋#hope u enjoy nonnie!!#my fics #ask #anon

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haifengg · 3 years

Text

Pairing: NanamixGN!Reader

Note: I think I got this ask quite a while ago but due to my hiatus it got postponed a million times. Now that I am slowly coming back and am publishing the bits and pieces I wrote during being away this A-Z is finally leaving my drafts as well.

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) Given his S/O is a sorcerer as well I think he would limit PDA at work to a minimum. Even if they are officially together or even married. He just likes to separate work and home. Tho it doesn’t mean that he is not making small intimate gestures at work like randomly dropping in with coffee or - when they are on a mission - sending a text asking how they are doing.

At home he is pretty affectionate. Randomly pulling them in for a hug, giving small back rubs when they are doing the dishes after he cooked. This kind of thing.

B = Before (What were they like when they had a crush?) Distant. Nanami would probably be a person who maybe actually mistakes the feeling for some other emotion at first. Leaving him confused about why he thinks about them so much. The poor man would likely be irritated every time they are nice to him. Why the heck doesn’t his heart stop pounding? And why is he suddenly excited to go to work? Disappointed when he is not assigned the same mission as them? Or - if they aren’t a sorcerer - sad when a mission takes him away from wherever he met them for too long?

C = Confession (What was their confession like?) Well-planned and straight forward. Nanami was already observing them for a while before making a move. Although he doesn’t actually confess it is pretty obvious when he likes someone because it happens so rarely. Just imagine him asking someone out for dinner. That gives away so much - don’t you agree?

D = Date (What was the first official date they went on?) If we don’t count the dinner mentioned above … I guess it would be something like a gallery. Nanami would definitely want to test his s/o’s taste in art because it tells a lot about a person’s character. What kind of art they prefer (paintings, photography, sculptures, … ) and how they look at it as well.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) Professionally. He would state the fact on why they aren’t compatible anymore and what made him draw this conclusion. I don’t think either one of them would cheat on the other mainly because Nanami wouldn’t get into a relationship with someone capable of doing that in the first place (I hope). He would sit down with his (not) s/o and talk it through. There might be tears on the other side but not on his. He thought about it a lot and made peace with his feelings before starting this conversation.

F = Fights (What would fights look like? What are things that upset them?) Kento barely looses his temper. And if he does I wouldn’t say that it is necessarily a bad thing. Getting him so worked up about something does only mean he cares. Fights would mostly be on the calmer/diplomatic side. He might be upset about something but there is no need for him to yell or anything. If the problem can be resolved just by talking about it - great! Why waste his precious energy on negative things, when he can use them elsewhere?

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) We all know - and all those rough sm*t fan fictions can’t proof me wrong - that he probably is the most gentle character in entire JJK. He despises the violence of his job therefore he doesn’t want to inflict pain or anything on anyone on his good side. Especially his S/O. Nanami has the most gentle touch, fleeing kisses, he will hold them tight but never smother them.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) As mentioned above: Tight and secure. Or soft. His S/O almost automatically buries their face in the crook of his neck because - who wouldn’t. Is there anything else I have to say about hugs by Nanami Kento? Yes. Am I able to put it into words? No. It’s just a very overwhelming feeling - that’s all.

I = Intimacy (What is their favorite form of intimacy? Do they have problems with it?) For him I think it would be things where they take care of him. While he shows his love through cooking and providing (which he takes a lot of pride from), he loves being taken care of as well. Maybe in departments he doesn’t know so much about. Like skincare. If his S/O teases him about his wrinkles and stern look he would gladly accept any advice in skincare from them, let them do their magic with face massages and serums. He doesn’t even care if it has any effect on his skin - he just loves the attention he gets and thrives on the feeling how much his S/O cares about him (and his skin apparently).

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) This one I am really indecisive about. I can see him get more jealous that we would expect him too - which would be a nice surprise tbh. But also not jealous at all because he is confident. Kento knows what his S/O likes about him and he also knows what separates him from other men. What makes him special. I think the times he gets jealous are the days he doesn’t get to spent with his S/O because of work or a mission. Which rather results in being mad at Jujutsu Tech than jealous of someone else.

K = Kisses (Are they a good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) Forehead. Kisses. It doesn’t matter what height there S/O is. It is one of the most protective gestures and he enjoys giving those as much as his S/O enjoys receiving them.

The back of the hand cheesy kisses. Because they are his everything, he wants to treat them like it. Nanami knows it’s cheesy but neither one of them thinks too much about it. When they sit across the table, fingers sloppily interlocked on the table top, he occasionally picks up their hand and places a soft kiss on the back of it. Almost absent-minded.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) He is not very fond of them. Not saying that he won’t love and do everything for his own kids but other people’s kids are usually a nuisance for him. If they are loud or misbehaving he is really not having it. Though he would never lash out or raise his voice against them/their parents. ‘Children’ as in ‘his students’ … he always makes sure to treat them as children in a way he wants them safe/won’t put them in unnecessary danger.

M = Messages (How often do they text his S/O?) Kento strikes me as a kind of guy who doesn’t text often. Mostly because in his line of work sharing attention could easily be his downfall or worse. He will let his s/o know if he’s running late or occasionally ask if there is anything they need from the store or things like that but aside from practical messages he doesn’t text much.

Though if he is on a long mission and away from his s/o for quite a time span he usually rather calls them than text.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) Nights as in ‘Nights Out’? Date nights? Well, he is a foodie so dinner is always a popular option. He takes the time to carefully research about the restaurant and the menu. If the rotate dishes, he will make sure they’re going at the exactly right season to get the best culinary experience possible.

Nanami is old fashioned. So he will hold the door for them, pull back the chair … helps them into their coat.

He also likes going to the movies. The intimacy of the dark theatre gives him the confidence to reach out for their hand or have his arm around their shoulder. Since he usually limits PDA in public this is exciting for him.

O = Opinion (Would they ask for their S/O’s opinion a lot? How important is it in terms of decisions?) Probably more than I would expect him too. Maybe not about the smaller things but decisions that involve the both of them he would definitely ask.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) Due to the time he spends exposed to Gojo this man has the patience of a saint. Literally. He rarely snaps at his S/O.

Q = Quizzes (How does a bar trivia night teamed up with them look like?) Stressed. Yes, this man in very educated and cultured but imagine him sitting in a loud-ass bar, having to answer questions about the transformers or Megan Thee Stallion. Absolutely absurd. How old he must feel …

R = Remember (How much do they remember about their S/O or their relationship in general?) Not everything but a lot. He will remember little things they mentioned early on in the relationship and bring it up again later. He also uses this ability for presents and such. As well as in fights. If they think they can outtalk him with something you accusedly said or didn’t say some time ago - I suggest they surrender, because he will remember much better.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Very Protective. I mean yes, he knows that they can stand up for themselves but why should they have to do that if he is around? One of the big perks dating him is that he is who he is and that his presence confuses most people. So he might as well use it. Not so much in a physical way but rather in addressing the people bothering his S/O directly in the typical manner of his.

I think his understanding of being protected equals being taken care of which plays into the skincare thing I mentioned earlier. It is not so much physical procreation from danger but preserving a future together where one cares about the other deeply and only wants their best.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) Medium effort. He prepares and researches but he rarely comes up with a new idea. He knows what he likes and his S/O probably does too. His work is so stressful and has close to no repetition so that he enjoys doing the same things on dates over and over. That does not mean it will get boring. Because Nanami sometimes thrives on going the extra mile. There is a restaurant across the country that he really wants to dine at? Buckle up - he is going on a vacation. Short trips or spa weekends are also things he appreciates.

Since he remembers dates and anniversaries well he is usually well prepared for those occasions. He puts a lot of thought into presents and barely ever gifts useless things. He does not like to have a lot of stuff laying around so what he gives to people usually serves a purpose.

U = Unique (What makes them unique as a S/O?) Literally everything I mentioned above. Namai Kento is a unique mix of all his traits. A very balanced person.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Well … he wears the same freaking suit everyday so … but yes I think cares about his looks and hygiene in general. As far as clothing goes he probably has one brand he is loyal too, which automatically sets his fashion style in stone as well. He has the same haircut for quite a while and sees no point in changing it.

Overall just the classic hetero dude who ones figured out what works for him and stuck with it. lol.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without their S/O? Yes. His S/O is the other side of him. Is what balances his inner peace. Without them he worries too much, stresses too much. He needs them to tell him it’s going to be okay.

X = X-Ray (How transparent are they?) Nanami doesn’t actually tells them everything but will disclose if they ask. He just doesn’t think they are interested in small details about him.

Y = Yuck (Everyone has flaws. What is theirs?) He. Doesn’t. Do. The. Dishes.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Kento never lets go of his S/O. Which can be annoying. And suffocating. Especially in summer. He is not clingy and they don’t fall asleep like this but in the morning he always spoons them or weirdly holds their hand. Sometimes toes interlocked lmao. Which makes them even more lonely when they are apart, because they got used to it way too quickly.

@kpopsnowball @soleilsuhh @jeonghanmoon @himitsu-luna

@sagedevans @shampoocifer @your-consulting-fangirl @gwynsapphire

MASTERLIST

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen scenario #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu nanami #Nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk Nanami kento

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mochegato · 3 years

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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

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