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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

Note

Is this seat empty? " Yes and this one will be too if you sit down" , "Don't be like that my love."

For MLB!Harry first stupid fight in a relationship 😂

Okay this turned into something entirely different then the prompt. Sorry anon 😂

—

Peace & Quiet (Please)

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“Where d’you put m’protein mix?” Harry asks, padding into the kitchen and opening every single fucking cabinet.

“It’s in the same place it’s been for the past five years,” YN bites out with a slight irritation, mixing the pancake batter a little rougher.

She’s been up since three in the morning and Harry sauntered in around six-thirty after coming home late from a baseball game last night.

All the babies still asleep.

“Ah - fuck,” Her husband huffs when he spills the powder all over the countertop and floor she had just swiffered ten minutes ago.

When he goes to open the other cabinet and grab for a shaker bottle - they all come tumbling out onto the floor in a loud clash.

“Could you be any louder? You going to wake up the kids!” YN scolds harshly, pointing to the closet, “Go get the swiffer.”

He obliges - surprised by her attitude, grabbing it and slapping it (by accident) on the ground like a fucking baseball bat, the head of the mop snapping off and breaking.

“S’broken,” Harry states the obvious, shrugging and going about peeling a banana before leaving the peel near the sink.

YN turns to face him, voice irritated, “I’m about to break you, just like you broke the swiffer.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” He asks cheekily but her glare tells him there is no amusement to be had this morning.

“I just spent all morning cleaning and you’ve made this place a disaster already!” His wife bites before flipping one of the pancakes.

Harry dejectedly cleans up his protein mix mess, neatly places the shake bottles into the right place, throws away the peel, and closes all the cabinets.

“M’sorry,” He murmurs, coming up behind her and kisses the nape of her neck, “Y’seem a bit cranky this mornin’.”

And man. He should have not said that.

“Do you have a baby who needs to fucking feed from your body every hour even during the night? I don’t think so,” She mutters, shaking him off of her.

“Hey, mama. M’bein’ an ass, what can I do to help?” He changes gears, choosing to stand next to her since she didn’t seem to want to be touch.

“Breastfeed - let your nipples feel like their constantly on fire and about to fall off. Make all this post-partum bleeding stop. Let me sleep for a day straight. I don’t know,” YN begins to sniffles, plating a few mini pancakes.

He’s taken aback, eyebrows furrowing in concern, and he leans forward to flip off the stovetop, “Can I touch you?”

She nods, wiping her eyes, and allows him to haul her up into their marble countertop, “Mama, y’need to tell me when y’feeling overwhelmed? Please baby. I’ve asked you a million times to wake me up and I can bottle feed her.”

“No, she…I have to feed her. It helps bonding and it-“

Harry interrupts firmly, “She will be perfectly fine being fed by a bottle a few times a day. You’re putting too much stress on yourself.”

Her head falls on his shoulder and she mumbles, “I just feel so…gross, not attractive at all.”

He pulls her back, searching her face in confusion, “Baby, why would you ever say somethin’ like that?”

YN let’s out a quiet sob, “My nipples are chafed and sore, I’m constantly bleeding, my belly hasn’t deflated -“

Harry can’t help but lean in and connect their lips harshly, he’s pulling her loose shirt up and over her head.

“Harry, what-“

“Listen t’me,” Harry rasps seriously, his hands are tender and careful as they cup her swollen breasts - thumbing at her painful nubs.

“I’m literally obsessed w’your tits, baby. They’ll go back to normal after y’done feeding and even if they don’t - I love them just as fucking much. You fed our three healthy strong boys and now you’re makin’ sure our chunky little girl is eating good.”

Then he hands move to cup her belly, large hands splayed over the still softening, firm bump from where Briar had been housed for nine months.

“Y’gave me four, four fuckin’ babies from this belly. I’m fucking in love with your body. God, y’thighs, y’tummy, the stretchmarks - fuck, getting me hard just lookin’ at you.”

It was true, he was stiffening up in his shorts but neither of them acknowledged it - it was a love boner more than anything else.

He literally got hard from how much he loved her.

“I’m tired,” She sighs softly, letting Harry tug her shirt back on as the children would be waking up soon to eat breakfast.

“I know, mama,” Harry acknowledges softly, giving her another kiss before taking over the pancake station.

When all the boys are downstairs and chomping away on their food, Cash, who is just about four decides it’ll be funny to squirt the sticky syrup all over their expensive stool cushions and the floor.

When YN turns from the sink to see the mess, she admits she snaps a little bit, “Really Harry? You’re supposed to be watching them, not checking the sports news on your phone!”

Harry is about to defend himself but his wife is stomping over to where Cash has emptied the bottle and gives him a firm look, “Cash Edward Styles, get your bum upstairs, right now.”

Cash’s eyes widen, his mother rarely needed to use a harsh tone with them, “Mama, I’m so-“

“If you are not upstairs, by the bathtub this instant, you get no outside time today. Do you understand me?” YN tells him, giving Easton a warning look when he licks at the syrup on his finger.

“Yes mama,” Cash squeaks out sadly, abandoning his plate and walking up towards the bathroom upstairs to get clean.

Easton and Ezra are dead silent as they watch their brother leave - not wanting the same fate as him so they sit proper.

“Sweetheart-“ Harry begins, putting his phone back in his pocket.

“No, I have my hands full taking care of four kids. I don’t need you acting like a fifth. Go bathe your son,” YN tells him coldly, an angry stare directed his way.

Harry clenches his jaw, biting his tongue as he stands up and pushes his chair in with force - making a loud noise before following after his second son.

A few minutes after they’re out of sight, Easton thought it’d be funny to wipe syrup down Ezra’s cheek which made Ezra cry and throw a pancake at his older brother - now soaking him in syrup.

YN starts to leak milk at the sound of Ezra’s cries.

“Easton Robin - get you butt upstairs this instant too. You know better - no outside time today,” She informs him as she uses a wet wipe to clean Ezra’s cheek.

“Mama,” Easton whines, fat tears starting roll down his cheeks as he stands up, loitering by the kitchen stool.

“Do not make me repeat myself,” YN warns, swiping a paper towel over the wet spot on her shirt from the leak.

Harry had just started washing up Cash who was still melancholy when his blubbering older one comes in - still tearful.

He sighs, looking at his syrupy son, “Wha’ happened?”

Easton looks hesitant, “I put syrup on Ezzie and mama said no outside time today.”

His father is tight-lipped, he can already predict that Easton’s actions upset Ezra, “Alright, c’mon. Let’s clean y’up too. Y’know better, Easton.”

Harry had just finished helping both boys dress when YN appears in the doorway with Ezra who has a binkie popped in his mouth.

She steps over and hands their son to Harry before muttering, “I’m going to feed Briar, keep the boys out of the room. I need some peace.”

YN disappears from the room before he can even reply to her.

Harry can admit he gets distracted when one of his coaches calls him up for a game change, doesn’t notice when Cash sneaks from the playroom.

It’s less than five minutes later when YN leads Cash gently by the hand back into the playroom, with Briar still latched and feeding.

When she sees Harry on his phone, she’s fucking livid with him.

“Really Harry?” His wife scoffs, guiding Cash to join Easton in where he’s playing with legos.

“I’ll call you back,” Harry replies to his coach before hanging up, “Sorry, it was Donny-“

“Good to know your job is more important than watching your kids,” She spits out before storming back out of the room.

Harry is up and following behind her, jaw clenched and irritated, “Just ‘cause you’re in a pissy mood doesn’t mean that y’say shit like that.”

She turns on her heel, eyes fiery, “You have no god damn consideration. You’ve been swamped this week because of your nike promotion and games. I’ve had the babies all by myself for four nights while you get to gallivant around!”

Harry goes to speak but she puts her free hand up.

“I ask for you to keep our house clean and to let me have one moment of peace with our daughter but you don’t even let me have that! You do not understand how hard it is to push a baby out of you and then have them rely on you to feed them twenty times a day!”

His anger fades when his wife starts sobbing - chest shuddering sobs, “I just had her four weeks ago. I-I haven’t had a break yet. You act like it’s so easy!”

He starts to walk towards her, “Sweetheart-“

YN shakes her head, a desperate plea in her tone, “Please just give me time with Briar.”

Harry swallows harshly and nods - feeling like shit as his wife walks back towards the stairs - all the while still feeding their daughter.

“Hello?”

“Mum, I-can you take the boys for the night?” Harry asks quietly, standing in the kitchen while the two older boys are still playing quietly.

Ezra’s passed out, on Harry’s hip with his little face smushed against the cap of his shoulder with parted lips.

“Dear, is everything okay?” She replies cautiously.

“No, I-I don’t know. YN is overwhelmed and I don’t think I’ve been supportive enough,” Harry feels himself begin to sniffle.

Anne doesn’t pry for information which Harry loves about her, she agrees to take them, and states she’ll be over within the hour.

Harry goes about packing their pajamas and other necessities in their little backpacks as the squeal excitedly about going to Nana’s.

“Can we say bye to mama?” Easton asks anxiously as they clear out of their bedrooms.

“Let me go ask,” He murmurs, running a hand through his son’s curls.

When he cracks open the door, YN is sprawled out on her back, fast asleep with Briar also asleep in the bassinet next to the bed.

His heart aches because her shirt is off, and the remnants of her nipple cream which was a pinkish orange color wasn’t fully rubbed in on her bruised breasts.

Harry guides them downstairs, promising that their mama will call them later.

After the boys leave, Harry doesn’t know what to do so he cleans whatever he finds that is dirty or messy so she won’t have to.

He does all the laundry in the house, cleans up every single toy, and when Briar starts to whimper - he sneaks in to snatch her up so she doesn’t wake YN.

Then he takes her out to the shops with him to grab groceries, her favorite snacks, and maybe he does stop by a jewelry store and buy her something nice.

(casually a pair of 20k earrings)

YN fell asleep around eighty-thirty in the morning and doesn’t wake up until about nine at night, Harry had put Briar in her nursery about an hour ago.

When she does awake, Harry is sitting in the living room - watching a stupid action movie to pass time and dwell on everything.

She comes in quietly, stands in front of her husband who looks up at her with anxious eyes - she looks brighter now that she’s had adequate sleep.

“Will you hold me?” She rasps quietly, just in one of Harry’s shirts and soft pair of sleep shorts.

“Never haven t’ask, mama,” He murmurs, guiding her until she’s straddling his lap and burying her face into the crook of his neck.

His hands sneak beneath her shirt to massage the sleep-warm skin as he kisses her shoulder - over and over again.

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispers into his skin, voice croaky as she tries to not get upset.

He pulls her back to study her face, “Do not apologize, y’allowed to get mad at me and feel frustrated. You’re emotions are valid. There’s a lot going on and I could be doing more to help.”

YN wipes a tear that trickles down as she laughs in disbelief, “No, you can’t do anymore to help.”

“Wha-? I can, I promis-“

She interrupts his with a kiss before telling him sincerely, “You can’t do anymore help because you’re already doing the most amazing job. As a husband and dad. I was just tired and stressed - it’s not an excuse.”

It warms his heart, he fucking loves her so much it does make sense, has to button their lips together one more time.

“You have a really hard job too, on top of being a husband and dad. You give us all this, support us and take care of us.”

“Are y’kidding me? Y’the one who keeps this family together. Y’the fuckin’ love of my life, you know that? I love you so much, so so much,” He emphasizes, rubbing a thumb across her bottom lip.

The kiss one more time - the anger was subsided and they were okay once again.

Harry laughs and agree when YN murmurs, “S’time for bed again, m’tired.”

“Okay mama, anythin’ for you,” He responds before peppering her in kisses to make her giggle lightly.

#mlb harry #mlb!harry blurbs #mlbrry #mlb!harry #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles husband #husband!harry #dad harry #dad!harry #file

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fe-fictions · 2 years

Note

Oh ! Fluffy rainy day with Hubert ? I feel like he would take great care of Byleth (so cute heheh)

(With a sneer on his lips ofc = U = )

He knew he should not be amused, nor should he tease you. In truth, you looked positively miserable. Between the bags under your eyes to the rain-soaked…well, everything, it was clear the last thing you needed was a sadistic comment.

But he’d already caught your glare when he coughed out a snicker. As if you were daring him.

Well, who was he to deny you a challenge?

“It appears there’s a wet rat at my door.”

A sopping cloak slapped into the floor with a heavy wetness, splashing his pants’ leg accordingly. Hubert grinned.

“I take it the journey home was more arduous than first thought?”

You ignored him pointedly, tugging off your boots and the last of your armor, leaving them in a crumpled puddle at the door. He watched quietly as you worked, waiting until your socks were ripped off and tossed over your shoulder.

You dripped loudly past him, storming towards the washroom to draw a bath.

Hubert had drawn one twenty minutes ago, in anticipation for your return. The rainy season had started about two weeks ago, shortly after you left. Of course the storms hadn’t subsided, yet.

He retrieved your wet clothes dutifully, hanging them to dry in the fireplace; the armor had been charmed to prevent rusting, so they were merely set aside in the corner for later.

Right now, he needed to tend to his bullied and battered wife.

You did not acknowledge him when he entered the washroom, shutting the door behind him with a pleased hum. There were few sights more delightful than his dear wife, especially when you were without the coverings of your garments.

“I do hope Emperor Edelgard was not too harsh on you. I admire her for her great tenacity, but it appears she has pushed her favored soldiers to the brink with this last expedition.”

He slinked across the room silently, your attention deliberately withdrawn even as he retrieved a hairbrush and kneeling beside the basin.

“Will you not speak to me, then?”

“Rats do not speak.”

At this, he laughed deeply. To some, it would be quite unsettling. But you could hear how very amused he was, even by his own cruel joke.

“Oh, dear, dear, dear.” He ran his fingers through your hair, gently feeling for the knots and tangles that needed the most work. “Do forgive me for my impertinence, Commander. It was nothing more than a lighthearted observation.”

“You couldn’t have greeted me, first?” You leaned your head back, glaring up at him. There was a little pout on your lips- he wished to kiss it away.

“It was ill-timed, perhaps…but it simply could not be ignored. You are so very pitiful when you’re soaked through your little bones.”

He kissed your forehead, earning a hum. You leaned forward again, sighing deeply as the brushing began.

It was unfair of him to be so tender beneath his unsettling exterior. He could say the darkest things with the sharpest of tongues, but in the same breath, wrap his fingers tightly around yours and press a thousand kisses into your hair, reminding you exactly how much he truly cared for you.

You had been through hell together and back, a hundred times. The lives you led were arduous and cold, and should have made for two frozen hearts. Yet you found yourself bathed in soft moonlight, on a warm summer night enveloped in his arms every second you were with him.

Hubert was your everything. And he, in turn, was completely enraptured by you.

It made life meaningful. Something that made you feel warm and comforted even on the worst days.

Being teased after a frightfulldreadful trek across the kingdom for two weeks happened to be what led you to this moment.

But still….it was a precious one. You smiled softl to yourself, lingering in his sweet touches when your hair was freed of its painful tangles.

Hubert’s hands were rather magical, even if he insisted they were normal, completely undoctored hands.

You would have to wait and see if that held true.

“The water will be cold sooner rather than later,” He warned, setting the brush aside and taking up the oils with which he could wash your hair. “We must finish your bath quickly. I’ll have dinner prepared shortly.”

“I did not ralize my husband was such a capable butler.” Your lilt was filled with amusement. Hubert scoffed.

“The rat and her butler- sounds like a strange sort of fairytale.”

“One you may be writing in an empty home, all alone, if you don’t stop calling your wife a rat.” You warned, turning in the water so that you could tap his nose.

He blinked, unprepared for the sudden touch.

A grin crossed his lips, wider than before. “Forgive me, human wife. I meant no disrespect.”

“You’ll be forgiven once I’ve got food in my mouth.” You hummed when he kissed you, properly this time. “That may suffice, though.”

“Oh?” He slipped down, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to pepper kisses up and down your neck. “Perhaps we ought to finish your bath for other reasons besides your dinner. It seems that some dessert is in order instead, hm?”

“Perhaps… It has been a long time since I last saw you, my love.” You tangled your fingers in his hair, his kisses slowly turning more deliberate.

“Mmn. Too long.”

“I hope you’re prepared to draw another bath. We’ll be needing one after this.”

“Whatever is necessary. I will fulfill it.” He nipped your ear, earning a squeak. He had missed your little sounds.

Well, he had missed all of you.

“Let me pamper you, then.” He took hold of your hands, pulling you to your feet. Water splashed loudly with your sudden movement, but it was hardly enough to keep him from stopping.

You fell into each other, stumbling back to your bedroom in a flurry of snickers and bright red blushes.

Of course, Hubert would take responsibility for the mess the two of you left in the wake of your reunion. Though it would not be without a little more teasing at your expense.

#hubert #byleth #fe 16 #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #huleth #hubert x byleth #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!byleth #fem!byleth #f!mu #rainy day fluff #rainy day prompt #i couldnt help it #hubert's just so damn sexy #i want him to smooch me a lot

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live-the-fangirl-life · 3 years

Text

Have I Been Bad, Officer?

Nesta Archeron x Cassian - Handcuffs Oneshot

Nesta surprises Cassian for a little Anniversary fun. Turns out, real handcuffs work better than sex-shop knock-offs.

Written for Nessian Month @illyrianet

Prompt: Handcuffs

Masterlist | Read on Ao3

Warnings: Language, NSFW, Police/Handcuffs

4102 words

*******

Cassian watched as another car approached his police cruiser, spotted it, and abruptly slowed down to pass him. Even pulled off on the shoulder of the road, the logo of Velaris PD stood out on the side of the car.

He rolled his eyes. Normally he would have cared more, but that was the only car he’d seen in the last ten minutes and he was already in a bad mood; he decided it was best for everyone if he didn’t take his frustration out on whatever poor driver had the bad luck of getting his attention.

He shouldn’t be sitting in his patrol car waiting to pull people over for speeding. He should be at home with his beautiful, devious wife, celebrating their anniversary.

Cassian had made a point to ask for the day off. The next two days off, actually. He wasn’t going to rush any of their anniversary plans. But then an officer called in sick, and another had a family emergency, and suddenly Cassian was being dragged into work because a personal day took less preference, unfortunately.

Nesta understood. At first, she’d threatened to go down to the precinct and tell his chief exactly what she thought about the decision, but Cassian convinced her that if she did that then he’d be fired and would consequently have every day off. It sounded good until he reminded both of them that being fired means he wouldn’t be making money, and it turns out you need money to live.

And although Nesta understood, she certainly wasn’t making it easy on him. Every fifteen minutes his phone chimed with a new message from her.

At first, it was just an ‘I love you’, and ‘Happy Anniversary’, but that soon turned into her explaining all things she was going to do to him when he got home.

And all the things she wanted him to do to her.

Then the pictures started.

Each new picture showed Nesta in a different outfit. A few were of her in different lingerie sets, a couple of them, Cassian noted excitedly, were ones he hadn’t seen before.

Another picture was of her in just his shirt, kneeling on the ground, back arched with her nipples pressing through the fabric.

The latest one was of Nesta in nothing but his uniform’s hat, and bright red lipstick.

Groaning loudly, Cassian rubbed his hands over his face. He willed his cock to calm down and counted down the seconds until he could get home and follow through with some of the requests she made.

The next twenty minutes passed without any more cars driving by and without any more of Nesta’s texts. Good, he thought, she was done torturing him when he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Cassian noticed a set of headlights approaching in the distance. Still mostly hidden from view, he watched as the car sped past him. Speeding. He rolled his eyes and watched for more cars.

He didn’t have to wait long. A minute later a car sped by him going the other direction. Cassian sat up at full attention; it was the same car, but this time it was driving even faster.

He watched as the car took the next exit, turned around, and drove back towards him.

Confused, Cassian waited until it was almost to him and then he turned on his lights and sirens and pulled out into the road behind the strange car.

Almost immediately, the driver slowed and pulled off onto the road’s shoulder.

In the shine of his headlights, Cassian could easily read the license plate of the familiar-looking car he stopped. He recognized it as easily as he knew his own.

It was Nesta’s car.

And she had driven by more than once to get his attention. Chuckling to himself, Cassian slowly got out of his cruiser and strutted over to her driver’s side window.

He shined his flashlight in her face, careful not to blind her with the harsh light, and smirked broadly as he leaned his elbows against the open window. Her hair was loose in waves down her back—his favorite look on her—, she wore a long coat with a belt tied around her waist and the top two buttons open allowing him a peek of her cleavage when she leaned closer. She also had on bright red lipstick that Cassian couldn’t wait to attempt to ruin; Nesta had long since started buying smudge-proof lipstick, but Cassian always like to test the limits of her makeup.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead, waiting for her to explain what she was doing. But she just blinked up at him innocently and smiled with her blood-red lips.

She was up to something, but Cassian thought he was going to enjoy whatever she had planned, so he played along.

“Are you aware that you were speeding, miss?” Cassian asked in his best authoritative voice. He had perfected a lot of voices when it came to Nesta. The soft voice he used when she was reading and he didn’t want to disturb her; the charming, cocky voice he used when flirting with her; the rough, low voice he used whenever he wanted to make her particularly wet; but this one, his ‘cop-voice’ was one she loved to hear when he was in control.

Her smile slowly morphed into a smirk.

“I absolutely was speeding,” she paused and leaned forward, the neck of her jacket opened further and Cassian could see the swells of her breasts as she said in a low voice, “Officer.”

He suppressed a groan. She knew what that did to him. And if the satisfied look in her eyes was any indication, his own had turned dark and hungry at her tone.

If this is how she wanted to play, he would gladly oblige her.

“You were driving real fast. Very dangerous.” Cassian’s eyes remained locked with hers. “I’m not sure if I can let you go with just a warning. You seemed pretty determined to catch my attention.” Cassian’s smirk grew.

“Are you going to write me up? Give me a ticket?” Her gaze dropped to where his notepad was stuffed into his belt and slowly raked her eyes back up to his. “Have I been bad, Officer?”

Fuck. He chuckled wickedly and made a show of looking around the dark, empty road. He hadn’t seen another car pass by for a while and he doubted there would be anyone for a while.

“Nes, sweetheart.” This time, when he leaned down his gaze lingered on her open collar. “I’m not going to give you a ticket.”

Nesta’s smile turned feline, and Cassian felt like he’d walked right into her snare.

“Then I guess,” her voice dropped low and she looked up at him through her eyelashes, “you’ll have to punish me some other way, Officer.”

This time, Cassian didn’t muffle his groan of approval. He pushed himself off the car door and shot her a broad grin before schooling his features into a stern, disapproving mask.

“I’m gonna need you to step out of the car.”

Still smirking, Nesta slowly opened the door. As she brought one leg out and then the other, setting them on the pavement, Cassian noticed that her coat exposed her bare thigh and he wondered what exactly she was wearing underneath. Or not wearing if he knew Nesta—and he prided himself in knowing Nesta.

She stood up and shut the door.

Cassian took a moment to look her up and down. He took in her long tousled hair, red lips, trench coat—he realized now—and the pair of black patent leather stilettos. He didn’t hide his desire; he knew his face must look ravenous, and he could feel where his pants were stretched tightly, showing her the shape of his hard cock.

A slow smirk spread across his face.

He motioned for her to walk around to the other side of her car. The side farther away from the road and the scarce light.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

She turned, pressing her front into the car’s frame, waiting until the last second to tear her eyes from his. He stepped closer to her until he was almost pressed against her and pulled her hair away from her ear to say, “I need to pat you down. Gotta make sure you don’t have anything dangerous on you.”

She shivered as his breath hit the arch of her ear.

His hands rested on her shoulders before slowly trailing down her arms.

“No knives,” His hands came back up and then tracked down her back, running a finger along the curve of her spine.

“No guns.” His fingers gripped her waist and in a quick motion, pulled her hips flush against his so she could feel exactly how turned on he was by her little game. He felt her ass rub up against his erection and held in a groan.

“No pepper spray.” He used one foot to kick her legs apart. One hand pressed on her upper back, making her lean further into the car. With her ass pushed out and feet spread apart, he gave her round backside a quick slap that caused her to gasp in surprise and gripped her hips to hold her in place.

“Don’t move,” Cassian commanded gruffly and he thought he heard a soft moan escape Nesta’s lips.

He pressed his body into hers, keeping her in place while he moved one hand to her hip as the other snaked its way around to grip her throat. Not too constricting, but just enough that she knew who was in charge

“What was that you said about punishing you?” Cassian’s hand on her hip moved down across her ass and then lower, taunting her with his touch. When she didn’t answer, just let out another low moan, he tightened his grip on her throat and cupped her through her panties.

Or, he would have if she’d been wearing any.

He moaned at the feeling of her warm, slick cunt against his fingers. Nesta’s words were cut off by a strangled gasp.

“Punish me.” She urged and tried to force her hips backward as he slowly moved his fingers along her slit, coating them in her wetness, before moving them up to circle her clit.

He hummed, considering. “You want me to punish you? I know you do, you’re so wet for me already,” he spoke into her ear, reveling in the sounds he was pulling from her.

“More, please,” Nesta gasped as his finger ghosted over her opening. “I’ve been bad, Officer.”

“You have.” He agreed and shoved two fingers into her soaking pussy.

She moaned loudly and splayed her hands across the top of the car trying to get a grip as he thrust into her relentlessly. His hand around her throat moved to reach into her coat and grasp one of her breasts.

Gods, she wasn’t wearing anything under her jacket.

He pulled his fingers all the way out, loving the whimper she made at the loss of sensation, only to add a third and resume his thrusts.

She moaned even louder as the hand at her breast rolled her nipple between his fingers and tweaked it harshly.

“Cass, please.” She begged. He loved it when she begged.

He grunted and pulled his fingers from her. Before she could protest, he spun her around so that her back was leaning against the car and she was staring at him with hooded eyes, breasts heaving as she breathed heavily.

He held her gaze as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked every last drop of her arousal from them.

“Was that my punishment?” Nesta panted, frustrated that he didn’t make her finish.

Cassian stepped up to her and raised a brow.

“If you think that was your punishment, then you’ve got another thing coming, sweetheart.” He winked and leaned down as if to kiss her, but ducked his head at the last second to attach his mouth to her neck, sucking small bruises along her collar bone and throat.

Nesta reached down and untied the belt holding her jacket together. With a few quick movements, she had it open, off her body, and flung to the ground several feet away from them. Now she was leaning against the car wearing nothing but her heels.

“Then finish the job, Officer.”

With a growl, he gripped her face and kissed her fiercely. It wasn’t tender or loving—those kisses were for later. This was hungry, ravenous, filled with uncontrolled desire.

It was teeth and tongues clashing, claiming the other as best they could.

He broke away and smirked again.

“With pleasure.”

Then he dropped to his knees and hooked one of her legs over his shoulder. From his position, he noticed the underside of her stilettos was a bright red that matched her lips. He ran his hands up either side of her legs and watched Nesta shudder with anticipation before dipping his head between her thighs.

The sound of her moan and her head falling back to land on the car were almost as delicious as the taste of her on his tongue.

Cassian was relentless. He savored her taste and her moans as he devoured her. He knew exactly what she liked and she was already so close to the edge from the way his fingers had fucked her moments before.

Her moans grew louder and she fisted one hand in his hair, keeping him close. If he could, he would laugh; if she thought he would willingly abandon her soaking pussy right now she was insane. He would finish what he started, and then he’d make her beg for more

His tongue moved from where it was spearing into her to circle and suck her clit. He used two of his fingers to replace where his tongue had been inside her and curled them just right.

“Cassian!” Nesta’s head flew back and she shuddered as release barreled through her. The hands in his hair became almost unbearable tight, but he continued to eat her out slowly as she came down from her high.

When he was sure she’d ridden out the last wave, he stood up and held her gaze as he licked his lips. Her smoldering, lustful gaze heated further and she grabbed the back of his neck to pull him against her. Nesta tasted herself on Cassian’s lips and moaned.

She kissed down his jawline. She was so turned on knowing she was completely naked and he was still fully dressed.

Cassian grabbed her and reached for something on his belt, but she was too distracted to notice what it was. His hands ran down her arms and the next thing she knew, her own hands were behind her back and cold metal encircled them.

She broke the kiss to see his satisfied face. Raising an eyebrow she tested the stretch of the handcuffs he’d put on her.

“These are strong.” She commented on them, smirking, trying to pull her wrists apart.

Cassian flipped them around so he was now against the car. “They’re the real deal, baby.” Then he chuckled and unbuckled his belt.

Nesta watched hungrily as his fingers unbuttoned his pants and Cassian’s hard cock sprung free, desperate for attention.

He stroked himself a few times, loving the way her eyes were glued to his moving hand. “Now be a good girl and get on your knees.”

Nesta kicked off her heels and lowered herself to the ground, all the while looking at Cassian from beneath her eyelashes.

“Now what, Officer?” She goaded him innocently.

“Now show me what that smart mouth of yours can do.” He ran a hand through her hair before fisting it and bringing her face closer to his rock-hard cock. “And maybe it’ll make up for the way you behaved.”

She gave him one last smirk before leaning forwards and taking the tip of him into her mouth. He moaned at the feeling of her hot, wet mouth wrapped around him.

She sucked lightly, swirling her tongue over the slit. Cassian hissed a sharp breath and tightened his grip in her hair. She looked up at him as she started bobbing her head up and down.

“That’s it,” He groaned again as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked deeply. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Then she pushed forward until her nose hit his pelvis and Cassian let out a loud groan.

She pulled away once to take a breath and then he was pushing her back down, using his grip in her hair to move her head up and down. She gagged as the tip of him hit the back of her throat but Cassian kept her head moving.

“Fuck.” He choked out, “ You’re perfect. Your tight little throat takes me so well. Can’t wait to fuck your dripping pussy.” He met her watering eyes and felt the moan she released at his words vibrate around his cock. “Look at you, on your knees, hands cuffed behind your back, ugh, Nes—”

The vibrations of her moans combined and the feeling of his tip brushing the back of her throat sent him over the edge. He went rigged and loosened his grip on her hair as he released down her throat. She took all of him, swallowing every last drop. Nesta leaned back on her heels and slowly released him with an audible pop.

He helped her get to her feet so she wouldn’t lose her balance since her hands were still locked behind her back, and swiped his thumb over her red, swollen lip.

He dragged her towards him for a bruising kiss.

“Gods, I love you.” He groaned against her mouth.

She pulled away to smile, “I love you too. Now take off your shirt.”

Cassian threw his head back and laughed but obeyed.

Once his own clothes were on the ground with hers, he opened the door to the back seat of her car and nudged her towards it.

She raised a brow at him and gestured with her still-bound hands. “Are these staying on?”

He stepped into her space and kissed her neck, sucking on the spot between her shoulder and neck that had her whimpering. “Do you want them to stay on?”

Nesta had a hard time responding once he moved to the seat behind her ear. “Yes,” She gasped, her head falling back. “Yes.”

She felt him smirk against her skin.

“Then they stay on,” Cassian commanded roughly.

She sent him another sultry smile. “Whatever you say, Officer.”

Cassian pulled Nesta as close he could get her with her hands cuffed behind her back; her back against his hard chest. One of his large hands wrapped around her throat and the other started rubbing soft circles over her clit. Nesta’s head fell back against his shoulder.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” His voice was rough. “You’ve been driving me crazy with your texts and those fucking pictures. When we get home I want you to show me all those new sets of lingerie.” He nipped at her ear, his fingers moving a little faster. “But maybe you should start with your least favorite because I think I’ll just rip it off you.”

She groaned as he eased one finger inside her. “Oh yeah, you’re ready.”

He removed his finger and bent her over. Her face was pushed into the leather cushion with her knees spread resting on the seat, ass in the air.

Cassian ran a possessive hand over her spine and slapped her ass forcing her to moan into the seat. He stepped up behind her so she could feel his hard length press between her ass cheeks.

“Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.”

And then he pushed into her dripping cunt with one quick thrust. They both moaned loudly as they got used to the feeling. When Nesta moved her hips back trying to gain some friction, he gripped her hips and kept her still.

“Oh, gods, Cassian,” Her moans were muffled by the leather seat.

Chuckling, he started to move. Each thrust brought pleasure surging through him. By the sounds Nesta was making, he knew she was feeling the same.

“Faster.” She demanded. “Harder.”

He grunted and grabbed her hips with both hands, trying his best not to shove her face into the seat but still doing what she asked.

He planted his feet better and then fucked into her with everything he had.

There was a cacophony of sounds; Cassian’s grunts, Nesta’s incomprehensible moans, the wet, vulgar sound of skin on skin, and the rhythmic creaking of the car shaking.

He shifted Nesta’s hip and hit a spot that sent her squealing,

“Yes! Cass, right there!” She screamed and he made sure to hit that spot with every thrust.

Soon enough, he felt her walls clenching around him and he gritted his teeth as she screamed his name as she orgasmed.

Cassian made sure to keep up his pace throughout the entire thing.

When he felt her stop pulsing with the aftershocks, he used an arm to wrap around her middle, pulling her up against him as best he could with her hands still bound. Still inside her, he moved a hand up to fondle her breasts and tweak her nipples, switching between her breasts at random.

His hips sped up, every thrust coaxing a new moan out of Nesta. He wanted to memorize all the sounds she made.

“Please, Cassian.” She gasped, already feeling another orgasm start to build in the pit of her stomach.

Cassian turned her head towards him and planted a surprisingly tender kiss to lips. He felt her smiling and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips, too.

Then the hand at her breasts moved to grip her throat, squeezing tightly until she choked and he lessened his grip a fraction. His other hand, the one wrapped around her waist moved down to rub furiously at her clit. Cassian kept his thrusts hard and fast. Just how she liked it.

Nesta let out a high-pitched squeal at all the sensations. Her mind was fuzzy from the pleasure—every single nerve ending was on fire from Cassian’s touches.

“Come for me, Sweetheart.” He murmured in her ear. That was all she needed, and she exploded. She screamed loudly, head thrown back onto his shoulder giving him perfect access to kiss and suck her neck, and her whole body shook from the reverberations of her release.

The feeling of her pussy clenching like a vice around his cock sent Cassian plowing into his own orgasm and he spilled inside her. She continued to shake as the aftershocks coursed through her body.

Cassian held her against him until they both recovered, hands running soothingly over her body. Then he slowly pulled out of her and she loosed a soft whine.

He chuckled but dug around his discarded pant’s pocket for the key to his handcuffs. He quickly unlocked them and winced at the bright red marks on Nesta’s wrists. She sighed in relief as the metal was removed and gently rubbed her sore wrists.

Instantly, all remaining lust faded away and Cassian was filled with guilt as he gently took Nesta’s wrists in his hands and kissed the tender flesh.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

Nesta cut him off, “Cassian, it’s okay.” She lifted his chin to meet her hazy, post-orgasm eyes, “I liked it, don’t worry.”

He just stared at her wrists, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the back seat of the car with her. She gently pushed him against the back and laid down next to him, grabbing the spare blanket tucked under the driver’s seat and tossed it over them.

Nesta ran reassuring hands over Cassian’s guilt-ridden face, as he wrapped his arms around her and tugged her close to him. “Really, Cass. If you ever want to bring those home with you, feel free.”

At his raised brows she added, “The ones we already have don’t feel as authentic.”

He searched her face for any discomfort and finding none, laughed. He pulled her even closer and she sighed contentedly at his warmth as his arms tightened around her body.

“I’ll see what other toys I can bring home, too.”

She kissed his chest and he rested his chin on top of her head.

“Happy Anniversary, Babe,” Nesta whispered, smiling into his skin.

Cassian chuckled into her hair and pulled her tighter against him. “Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.”

*****

Taglist:

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itrytowrite-things · 4 years

Text

Murder podcasts

Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Y/N has a tendency to listen to murder podcasts while doing chores, one day Spencer comes in unannounced scaring Y/N into action. (This summary sucks but it’s fluffy)

A/N: shout out to @with-paint, she helped me form some of this fic so check them out.

The eerie background music and narrator filled the kitchen as I scrubbed diligently at a plate. I blinked down at it, trying in vain to remember what the hell I used it for that would cause such a stubborn stain of food. Sighing, I squeezed the soap bottle some more and ran hot water over it. Maybe soaking it would help?

Grabbing a few of the cups I had washed, I spun around from the sink to a towel I had laid out earlier. I scrunched my nose as cold soap suds ran down my arm, hit my elbow and fell to the floor in a sticky mess I didn’t want to deal with right now.

I was so engrossed in the podcast playing over the Alexa that I barely even processed the grueling chore that was longer than normal. I was lost in the words, that an hour longer scrubbing at dishes seemed almost fun. The dishwasher had completely died a couple of weeks ago.

Normally Spencer would speed read the manual to figure out what was wrong with the stupid machine. But unfortunately, his case in Michigan was taking longer than he anticipated. So, he hadn’t been home to look into it, leaving me to hand wash the dishes. I didn’t mind, it was a mindless task and allowed me to catch up on my favorite podcast.

“They found her body a week later, twenty minutes from their house,” I shook my head at that, case freaking solved. Her husband obviously killed her. I mean there’s no way the police didn’t solve this case, come on.

I moved from the towel back to the sink, sticking my hands back into the soapy water. I always believed that I should be a detective. I could solve these cases easily, Spencer claims that suspicion can only take me so far and the reason that they don’t catch the guy is not because they don’t suspect it, but because they don’t have hard evidence. I normally just scoff and give him a kiss knowing that I would get the bad guy in the end, “hard evidence” my ass.

“Two months later the police came in and found Jeff’s disembodied head laying on their kitchen counter.” My jaw dropped and I turned around furiously, bringing a wet butter knife with me, on instinct I pointed the knife at the device.

“Oh shit.” I said to the speaker, as if it were relaying the case itself. Well turns out I was wrong. I cleared my throat and lowered the stupid knife. I placed it down and tried my best to look less scandalized. We all make mistakes. So I might have been a little off in my husband theory, but I mean I had only heard half the case at that point so it doesn’t speak anything of my amazing detective skills. I nodded at that and tossed the knife into a little stack of silverware. The metallic sound echoing around the kitchen. I smirked at my good throw and turned back to the sink.

I quickly got into the true grove of washing the dishes, listening to the more gruesome details of the case. Turns out the killer did quite a number on old Jeff. I was halfway done with the remaining dishes when I felt a tap on my shoulder sending my heart into a frenzy.

I whirled around quickly bringing the closest item with me as a weapon. The plastic spatula slapped the asalint straight in the face creating an awfully loud twack sound that bounced off the kitchen walls. I blinked in horror at realizing who exactly was standing in front of me.

Spencer's cheek turned red immediately.

“Oh my god! Spence! I am so sorry!” I dropped the spatula and brought my other hand to his face trying to soothe his skin. My hand was covered in water and soap suds, and it dripped down his face onto the already wet floor.

“I am so so sorry. You scared me.” I rubbed my thumb over the spot, feeling his heated skin. Jesus, I felt awful. I didn’t hold anything back when I hit him. I figured I was fending for my life, not greeting my boyfriend.

“It’s okay.” His much larger hand cupped mine removing it from his face. The redness had died down a little, making his skin a rosy pink instead of the previous bright red. He looked adorable which only made me feel worse. Who looks that cute after getting slapped in the face with a spatula?

Spencer startled me yet again when a chuckle came bubbling out of him. His laugh was like someone bottled the sound of happiness. It made my own laughter arise every time without a doubt even if I didn’t understand what was funny.

“I guess I don’t have to worry about you protecting yourself.” A loud squeak sound emitted from my body unexpectedly followed by more laughter. I slapped him very lightly across the chest, kissing his unharmed cheek.

“You're lucky I wasn’t cutting vegetables.” I said, rustling my way into his arms pulling his body against my tightly, loving the way his laughter shook my entire body. I felt the short press of his lips against the crown of my head before tucking my head into the nook of his neck. I inhaled deeply, taking the scent of him with me. The apartment had started to lose its scent with him being gone for so long. I was beyond eager for the apartment to smell like us again.

“I think those podcasts are giving you wild ideas.”

“They would never find your body Dr.Reid.” I teased, poking gently at his side making him squirm in my grip. Another round of laughter filled the small space, it was only when it died down that I realized my podcast was still running in the background.

“Alexa, stop,” I shouted into the air stopping the podcast. “The neighbor did it.” I said with coincidence knowing that my answer was correct this time. Spencer let out a belt of laughter, nodding his head, a big grin on his face.

I pulled back from Spencer taking in his features for the first time. He looked tired, his eye bags had doubled creating a skunk in effect. I could see the trouble in his eyes, the case was hard. It killed me to see him after a hard case, he looked more and more defeated after each one. However, it was what he loved doing and my job wasn’t to erase the trauma of his job, but to ease him back into daily life. I thumbed his eye bags lazily, a pout taking over my face.

“You wanna take a shower and I’ll start us some dinner.” I asked gently. Not wanting to completely destroy the quiet we created. He nodded slightly looking younger than ever. I quickly pulled him back into me taking all of his weight. “I love you bub.” His hair felt silky against my fingertips as I disentangled the curls.

“Love you too.” He mumbled, his heated breath warming my skin. I waited a few comfortable minutes rocking our conjoined bodies in the cozy silence of our kitchen, I took a deep breath and said what was on my mind.

“You wanna talk about it?”

I don’t ever ask Spencer for the details of his cases. He either goes into a tangent without prompting or doesn’t feel like talking about it. I used to think that talking to Spencer about his job would be like listening to my murder podcasts. It honestly was one of the things I was excited for, but I soon found out it’s nothing like that.

When Spencer spoke of cases it was personal. He felt every death that was caused and saw every killing through the eyes of monsters. He held so much emotion in his voice when he spoke of the victims, that I often can’t help but cry. How a person can hold that much pain and still continue to do it everyday, is beside me.

He shook his head, squeezing my torso before finally pulling back and placing a soft kiss to my lips.

I continued the dishes, washing the last few. I left the podcast off, listening instead to the shower from down the hall. I scrubbed off the last of the grime before starting the oven. A simple dinner was always best in these situations. I pulled out a pre-made chicken pot pie from the freezer and placed it in the oven.

As I moved to dry and put away the dishes while waiting for pie to finish. Spencer emerged from the bathroom freshly bathed. He wore a thin gray shirt paired with some soft looking sweatpants. My upper lip jutted out automatically. God I love him.

“Feel better?” I kept my voice low, not wanting to startle any peace that the shower might have brought him. He nodded slowly.

“What did you cook?”

“A chicken pot pie, I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s perfect.” He smiled and returned to my arms, kissing my neck once before tucking his head into my neck. The edge of his wet hair scraped against my skin in an uncomfortable way, yet I only moved enough to rub circles into his back.

A loud beep emitted from the oven caused me to jump in Spencer's arms. He let out a small chuckle.

“Pick us something to watch and I’ll plate us some food.” I hummed turning my back to him. I heard him walking towards the living room as I bent to retrieve the hot food.

Spencer sat criss cross on the couch, Les Enfants du Paradis was displayed on the TV. I handed him the steaming bowl and sat down, sitting close enough for our knees to knock together. I have no idea what Les Enfants du Paradis was, but I would watch literally anything he wanted as long as he was here.

“It’s in French, but I figured I could whisper the translations to you while we watch. Or I could pick something else?”

“No! This is perfect Spence. I love it when you translate, you tell the story better.” He let out a little blush highlighting his previous slap mark. I bit my lip and winced slightly, “How’s your face?”

He touched the spot faintly, he didn’t wince when his fingers made contact which was a good sign. However, I have an inkling that a small bruise would form in the center of the slap which was going to be a fun story to tell his colleagues Monday.

“I’ve had worse, but you wield a lot of power with a cheap piece of plastic.”

“I am professionally trained in the art of spatula wielding Spence, don’t try that at home.” I stared at him, my face blank before a blast of laughter came out of both of us. One can only be so serious when you are talking about slapping people in the face with kitchen utensils.

Spencer started up the movie, and we remained there for the rest of the evening. Laughter and dramatic sighs followed by even more dramatic translations from Spencer. At some point he went so off script that even I could tell his story was bullshit. I didn’t call him out though just allowed him to spit nonsense, I would let him create fake French stories until he was blue in the face if that meant we got to stay in this happy bubble forever.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #doctor reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #reid fluff #spencer fluff #cm #cm x reader #criminal minds #dr. spencer reid #spencer #spencer reid fluff #x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer x you #y/n

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hockeylvr59 · 3 years

Note

Hi. Number 1: taking a rain walk with cale. You can choose the time. Thank you !

So with all the UMass content I've been digging up I decided to take a trip back in time with this one. So we're setting this fall 2018 when Cale was a sophomore at UMass. I'm lowkey in love with this one. Big thanks to @bqstqnbruin for the help with this plot concept. (1,610 words)

~~~~~~~~

Ellie was so going to owe you for this. Dodging beer spilling out of a cup, you pushed your way through the crowded frat house, wincing as the volume of the music somehow got even louder. Your roommate Ellie had made plans to meet a guy here tonight and she’d pleaded with you to come with her in case he didn’t show or things didn’t turn out how she expected. But, as soon as she had spotted him in the crowd upon your arrival, she had disappeared and you hadn’t seen her since. That had been nearly two hours ago. Like a good friend you’d sent her a text twenty minutes or so ago checking in and you had just gotten a reply of a thumbs up and that they had left to go to a diner off-campus.

Of course, they had. A heads-up text would have been nice.

Though you wanted to be mad at her, it was hard to be when you knew how excited she had been for this date. Still, a packed frat house on a Friday night was one of the last places you wanted to spend your time. Trying to weave your way toward the door, you tripped over something and landed smack against a solid chest. A pair of hands quickly reacted, catching you and helping you regain your balance. Quickly you mumbled an apology, though it wasn’t your fault there was a drunk person sleeping on the floor with their leg in the middle of the path.

“No worries, you okay?” A deep voice questioned, causing you to look up. When you did, your eyes met a pair of reddened cheeks that were familiar to anyone on campus who didn’t live under a rock.

Cale Makar.

The hockey team’s superstar defenseman who was back for his second season despite the chance to make the jump to the NHL.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” You stated, snapping out of your daze. “Just need to get out of here.”

Cale’s gaze softened in concern and he quickly worked using his taller frame to clear a path for you until you reached the slightly less crowded front porch. It was still loud outside but at least you didn’t have to scream to hear yourself think. Slowing, you leaned against a railing just trying to catch your breath and rid your senses of some of the stench of cheap alcohol. You didn’t expect him to stay close so when he leaned against the railing beside you, you were slightly surprised.

“Did we have Western Thought together last fall?” He asked after a moment, the question catching you off guard. You thought back to your schedule last year and then bit your lip considering that query.

“Was that Tuesday/Thursday morning, Herter Hall?” Cale must have nodded because he spoke again a moment later, a smile evident in his voice.

“I thought you looked familiar.” He mused, offering out a hand. “Cale.” He greeted, introducing himself officially. Introducing yourself in return, you asked him what he had thought about the ridiculous question that had been on the final for that class. You may not remember much but that question had screwed over half the class and you certainly hadn’t forgotten the stress you’d felt waiting for grades to drop after that exam.

That question sparked an entire conversation and before you knew it, it was almost 1am.

“I should really head back to my dorm.” You admitted a bit reluctantly. “Thanks for the chat and making this party not a total bust for me.” You joked, looking up at the sky which was starting to look like rain.

“What dorm are you in?” Cale asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Grayson.” You replied with a shrug even as Cale’s eyes went a little wide.

“I’ll walk you.” He immediately declared.

“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine.” You assured him. Grayson was all the way across campus and you weren’t sure where he was living.

“I’ll walk you,” Cale repeated, signaling that he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “It’s late and you shouldn’t walk across campus by yourself, not with all these idiots around.” The way he phrased his explanation showed that he knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t mean that you should have to.

“Fine. Thank you.” You declared, shooting him a slightly exasperated look. Cale gave you a semi-dimpled smile and motioned for you to lead the way. As you walked toward the admin building and fine arts center you continued chatting about everything and nothing all at once. Conversation came easy and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were a bit taken at how smart Cale was.

You had reached the western edge of the pond, with the intention of cutting across the northern shore to make your way to your residential area, when a loud boom sounded across the sky out of nowhere. Before you could even react, torrential rain was pelting you both, soaking you to the bone. Quickly, Cale herded you over toward the library and inside. The building was quiet as he guided you up to one of the study floors murmuring that you should wait out some of the heavy rain. Knowing that you really should get home and to bed, you wanted to protest but then a flash of lightning cracked across the sky. Maybe you should wait out the storm a little bit.

Moving into a study room overlooking the pond, you shivered slightly from the air conditioning blowing through the building.

“Come here,” Cale murmured from the spot on the floor where he had settled. For a moment you eyed the chairs but then decided maybe you shouldn’t get them soaked too and the floor was probably a better option. Though you sat with some space between you and Cale, it wasn’t long before he was tugging you closer murmuring that he can’t keep you warm if you’re so far away. With another chill racing up your spine, you shifted to press against him, sighing softly at the warmth he radiated even through wet clothes.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before you heard Cale murmur your name softly.

“Yeah?” You questioned, trying not to yawn.

“Did you know that the architect of this building forgot to account for the weight of the books in his plans and that’s why only every other floor has them?” Cale stated.

“One that was totally random.” You teased softly. “Two, that’s 1000% a myth.”

When you peeked up at Cale, his cheeks were even pinker than before and they matched his lips as he did this little mindless tick you had picked up on already.

“Totally true.” He defends softly, making you giggle slightly.

“It’s not but that’s okay, you aren’t the first person to buy that myth.” You assured him. Though you didn’t notice, Cale’s face fell into a bit of a frown and he murmured under his breath that there goes trying to impress you.

Watching the rain again, you couldn’t help but yawn. Slowly your head drifted down to rest against Cale’s shoulder and you must have dozed off because the next thing you knew, Cale was murmuring your name again, trying to wake you.

“C’mon sleepy. The rain has let up a bit. This is probably our best chance to get you home.” He explained, urging you to sit up before he moved from underneath you and then pulled you up onto your feet.

Leaving the library, you started walking again through the rain, Cale chattering non-stop. You were sure it was his attempt to keep you awake and you appreciated it. At the same time though, his voice was so soothing, you almost wanted to curl right back up against his shoulder and fall asleep while he talked to you.

By the time you finally reached your dorm, it was nearly 2:30 in the morning. With the rain, a normal half-hour walk had taken three times as long. Standing in a sheltered overhang, you turned to thank Cale for making sure you got home safely.

“Definitely the most interesting first date I think I’ve been on,” Cale replied with a tired smile, his eyes still somehow bright. When your brain processed his words, your jaw dropped.

“Date?” You prodded causing Cale to hum and shrug, glancing down at his watch.

“I mean we’ve spent the last three and a half hours together talking and walking through campus. Pretty sure we can call that a date.” He insisted. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach and you ran your fingers through your wet hair. Cale was calling this a date. That was...wow.

“A date huh…” You finally breathed. “Guess that means I better get a good night kiss. Though technically it’s definitely early morning now.” Cale’s fingers slid around your waist to press against your lower back gently as he crowded closer into your space and after a moment of his eyes searching yours, he leaned down for a kiss, his lips pressing against yours chastely but firmly.

One kiss turned into two and then three before your yawning caused Cale to pull away. After asking for your number so he could take you on a non-rain date, he kissed your cheek and murmured for you to go take a warm shower, put on dry clothes, and then get some sleep.

Your lips still tingled slightly as you climbed into bed and you couldn’t help but think that maybe you were the one that was going to have to owe Ellie.

#cale makar blurb #cale makar #cale makar imagine #colorado avalanche imagine #colorado avalanche #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #cavalanche

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borisdl · 4 years

Text

Short Story

When I was about 14 and hit puberty I started wetting the bed. My mother told me the same thing happened to her three brothers and they all wore diapers. They outgrew it in their twenties and that it was just a weak bladder muscle.

I got used to wearing diapers and came to enjoy it. The first time I pooped my diaper I was 15 and it was an accident. I had gotten up for and was getting some orange juice from the fridge. I thought I had to fart, being home alone I stuck my butt out and let it rip. Except it was more than a fart. A lot more. I felt a long thick firm stool pushing forcefully into my diaper. By the time it stopped it looked like I had grapefruit in the back of my diaper.

I was in shock but it also felt good. Really good. I waddled to the bathroom to change I felt my penis getting hard. I often woke up hard and would rub one out in my diaper but this was different. I reached inside my diaper I realized that I had already cum and touching it made me cum more.

After I cleaned up and took a shower I threw the soiled diaper away on the way to school. I was horrified, what if I was losing bowel control too? What if it happened again.

But it didn’t, not for a couple of months. But I kept fantasizing about it and masturbating in my diaper.

The next time it happened I planned it. Ordinarily I’d poop after school but decided to hold it for the next day and go in my diaper. It wasn’t easy but I made it. As soon as my mom left for work I walked down to the kitchen. My intestines were rumbling. Before I could even pour my juice it happened. Bending my knees and spreading my legs I pushed out a huge firm log anthem another. A minute later a third. I had never pooped so much in my life. This time, instead of grapefruit it looked like a small melon in my diaper.

I walked to the kitchen table and carefully sat down. Then, without touching myself my cock erupted.

This soon became part of my morning ritual. Not everyday but as often as possible. Until my mom got a new boyfriend and he moved in with us. My mom explained the bed wetting to home and at first he was okay but by my seventeenth birthday he would mock me about wearing diapers.

At one point his work schedule changed and I came downstairs to find him at the kitchen table in his underwear. I was wearing just a T-shirt and my soaking wet diaper. My click was rock hard in anticipation of doing my business.

Seeing me he laughed out loud and said there’s baby James. Whoa sport! Looks like ya got quite the morning wood. Maybe you like wearing diapers a little too much. Humiliated, I got my juice and left but my relationship with him and my mom was really strained after that. I resented having there, especially in the morning.

I started pooping secretly in the bathroom before my shower but one one day I forgot to lock the bathroom door and while I was in the shower he came in to get something and found my poop filled diaper on the floor. That was it. He told my mom. I claimed it was an accident and my mom believed me but his teasing got worse. I was miserable.

Then one day after school my mom called and said we were going to see her youngest brother Joey. He lived about ten minutes away, drove a UPS truck and was around 30. When we got there he already knew the whole story and said I could come stay with home until I graduated high school and went to college.

He said he knew how hard it was being a bed wetter in high school. He said the only thing that made it bearable for him was he had two older brothers who did it too. So at least home it felt normal and no one got teased.

That very night my mom dropped me off with my stuff, I had my own room and was thrilled. Uncle Joey was super buff Italian looking who everybody liked. I often wondered why he was still single.

That first night he told me he’d bought something special. He went into his room and came out with five pairs of terry cloth lined, padded plastic pants. They were thick and soft with creamy while plastic on the outside. He said this will prevent leeks and that I could wear these over my diaper around the house like regular underwear. Then he said “okay champ?”

Hesitantly excited I agreed. The next morning I walked into the kitchen to find my uncle ready for work drinking coffee and eating toast. Morning James, did you sleep okay? He said.

Looks like your new jammies fit okay, comfortable?

I had to admit they were great. They helped keep my soaked diaper in place and even though they were quite swollen looking, I looked perfectly dry. Soon Joey left for work and I was free. I watched him drive away and no sooner was he out of sight and I let loose.

I was in heaven.

This continued all week until Friday. Joey let me know that the weekend he likes to sleep in a bit and then lounge around in the morning. If I wanted he’d make us some pancakes. I said that sounded great.

My stomach was feeling funny when I went to bed, we had a big risotto for diner and I was stuffed. The next morning my diaper was soaked usual. The leg bands of my terry shorts were even damp.

I went into my bathroom to slash water on my face before going down to breakfast. My stomach cramped and I uncontrollably pooped my diaper. I didn’t know what do but with him calling me for breakfast I had no choice but to go downstairs.

Get your juice, short stack coming right up he beamed bare legged in chef’s apron and tee shirt. I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice the smell and was trying to cover my obvious erection.

I sat down as carefully as coul but some of the poop was already seeping into the cottton leg bands. From behind, I noticed he was olive green nylon running shorts under the apron. Although he was very muscular his butt looked especially round in those shorts.

A second later he put our plates on the table and sat down. Smiling he said, dig in! As he bit into a strip of bacon. I wanted to cry. He was so nice to me and there I was with a big smelly poop in my diaper.

Soon however, I could see his expression change. He looked at me, sniffed the air a little and said, did you fart?. Uncertain what to do I nodded my head. He laughed out loud and pointed at me saying, pull my finger! Reluctantly I did, he shifted his body weight to one side he let out a long loud fart. We both burst out laughing. When we stopped, he said, wait I got do another one but this time he stood up and bent his knees a bit. The send one wasn’t as loud as the first but it was longer. He stood up waving the air and said, phew! That one stunk.

He stood there looking amused but then he said, one more. Then his face got serious, he squatted again spreading his legs and straining. The harder he strained the more distant the look on his face became. Then I heard that unmistakable noise of cracking and grunting of him having a bowel movement in his shorts. When he finally finished about a minute later he stood up taking off his apron I could now see under his nylon running shorts he was wearing a diaper and plastic pants just like mine.

He looked at me said, I don’t think was fart. Lucky thing I had my diaper on. As he sat down slowly I couldn’t help but notice his nylon shorts were stretched to capacity by his raging boner strainng in his wet and soiled diaper.

To be continued.

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feral-dumbass · 4 years

Text

I Love Playin’ With Fire

Chris Evans/ Female Reader

Summary: As “punishment”, Chris makes you wear a vibrator that he can control with his phone, but not before you can convince him to fuck you first.

Includes: Cum Play, Panty ripping, Dirty talk, Unprotected Sex, Use of vibrator, Exhibitionism towards the end

Words: 2,632

A/N: Obviously this is RPF smut. If it’s not your cup of tea, I’ll probably be uploading a Bucky fic later today to make up for it. I don’t think I’ll write a lot of RPF, but we’ll see what Evans does and how much of a whore I’ll be for it. Title credit to The Runaways. Tagging my hype men @babybluestan and @gagmebucky

Masterlist

“You know I was thinking.” Chris strokes his fingers through his beard. An absentminded tick when he’s lost in thought. You glance up from getting ready for the day. You strut toward him, traipsing around in your lavender underwear. You’re hoping Chris will get handsy if you wear a sundress today.

He’s sitting up in bed, the latest philosophy book face down on the covers in his lap.

Your eyes travel down to his bare tattooed chest. His already massive bicep thickens as he reaches up to stroke his beard. Okay, maybe you can convince him to stay home on this lazy day with no clothes in sight. You walk over to him and kiss him. His lips are warm and a little wet against your own. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spin. You pull back only a little so your lips lightly brush against his as you speak.

“What were you thinking?” You lower your voice until it hits that soft, sultry tone that drives him mad.

He gets momentarily distracted. Staring at your lips, he pushes the book aside. his chest rumbles as he hums. “I was thinking-” his voice is a sexy deep tone and his pink tongue swipes across his full lower lip “-no underwear for you today.” He must have looked up from his book while you were laying out your daisy sundress.

A grin slowly spreads across your face. “No.”

“No?” His facial expression morphes into one of shock. Chris didn’t even know that word was in your vocabulary when it came to him. You slip out of his reach as he grabs for you. The pads of his fingertips barely brush the lace of your lavender panties.

“Make me.” You bolt out of the room. The word in Chris’s mouth stops short at the sight. You’re running down the hallway when you hear him scrambling out of bed. The slap of his footsteps echo down the hallway.

You turn the corner, ready to make him run in circles, when you trip over one of Dodger’s dozens of toys. You don’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed that your fit ass hell husband is here to catch you before you fall on your ass.

He hefts you against his chest. Your feet barely touch the floor as he carries you to the couch. Images of your knees to your chest, Chris’s heavy strokes make you tremble as they flash through your mind. Your feet plant on the ground and he pushes you over the armrest. Face against the seat cushion and lace covered ass up in the air, You should have known. An ass man at heart, Chris will do anything to get you in this position.

A heavy hand lands down hard on your ass. You gasp at the sting of his wedding ring. His hands are broad and strong. You’ve learned during your many spankings just how strong he is. More than once you’ve woken up with giant red handprints covering you ass. You’ll feel that one for the rest of the day. He gropes you ass, trying to massage the pain away. You try to buck away from his big hand. Chris hums and digs his thick fingers harder into your ass cheek. You cry out.

“You had to run away, huh? Couldn’t just be a good girl and say yes, sir.” How can Chris’ voice get deeper? That should be illegal. Your eyes roll back. Pussy throbbing at the sound of his low voice. “And to think, I was gonna let you have my cock before we go to brunch.” His hand leaves your ass finally. You feel the ghost light caress of his fingers against your slit. Your wetness seeping through the thin fabric. He groans, his fingers press harder into your pussy. Labias separating against the lace, he runs his fingers over your entrance to clit and back. “You always this wet for me, horny girl?”

“Y-yes.” You whimper at the dip of his fingertip into your entrance before it’s gone again.

“Change of plans. That new vibrator you begged for? You’re wearing it the whole day. You think this pretty pussy can handle that or have you taken my cock too many times in the past twenty four hours?” A chill runs down your spine at the thought. Chris using an app that controlled a vibrator in you is in your top fantasies. You two have been fucking non-stop for the past day, you might be ovulating now that you think about it. You guys have to take a break to be adults.You have to get groceries and planned to stop for brunch on the way. Your thoughts are interrupted as Chris traces feathery patterns against you pussy. He can feel your pussy clench down at nothing. Devious bastard circles your entrance.

“No, I can handle it. P-please.” You arch your back, trying to get Chris to press down harder. His other hand lightly pops your other ass cheek in warning.

“Of course, you can. That’s why I married you. You’re confident in what you can handle and you have a great ass ” He plasters his chest against your back and kisses your cheek. Crushing you against the couch before he’s back up in a flash.

“Don’t you wanna-” You swallow “Don’t you wanna feel my wet pussy around your fat cock first though?”

Chris chuckles. “Nice try.”

“C’mon, think about the vibrator nicely fitting in my tight cunt with your cum helping it slide in.”

“Honey, you’re soaking my fingers. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Please.” You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him. Pouting as you bat your eyelashes. “I want your big dick. Wanna feel your cum leak as you turn the intensity up on the vibrator.”

His groans, eyes fluttering shut. He takes a few minutes to think about the dilemma. He breathes in through his nose, beefy chest rising, before he lets the air out through his mouth. His eyes a dark shade of his normal blue now. His touch leaves you. Slit aching, you whine.

“Chris.” Voice wavering in that perfect bratty tone. “Please.”

“Maybe we should stop at the sex store to get you a gag because I know I just did not hear my good girl not take no for an answer. Gotta admit you got a pretty way with words, baby.” He holds on to the lace right where it's covering your slit. Twists it and pulls, the rip echoes in your brain as you gasp out. He knows the lavender ones are your favorite pair. Your pouting for a different reason now as you glare at him. He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, cut it out. You’re getting my fucking cock.” The intimidating bulge in his boxers teases you, right up against your smeared in wetness slit. He rocks his hips back and forth, just to see you squirm.

“Please hurry up.” You wiggle against his crotch. His hand pins your lower back into the couch, ceasing your gyrating. Other hand reaching for his boxers.

“You may be very god damn persistent, but at least, you’re using your manners. That should get you something, right?” Not that you can see, but he pulls out his girthy cock.

Your pussy easily accepts him. By now, his dick has carved out its place in your channel. If Chris took his eyes off the cute face you make on the first slide and bothered looking down, he would have seen your cunt gaping for him. He lives for the stuttering gasp of his name. It’ll be tough for the vibrator to beat the feel of his cock. He lets a moan slip out. Your cunt spasming at the sound.

It doesn’t take long for Chris to pick up the pace. Your hip bones running into the edge of the couch at each smack. He should not already have you fisting the couch cushions this early on. You don’t know how he does it. Cock rubbing against the sensitive skin of your channel. You carry the full weight of it. The idea of staying naked and being a cocksleeve for your husband sounds all the more enticing right now. Screw food. You can eat ramen for a couple more days, right?

“So happy I married this tight pussy. Best choice I’ve ever made.” Chris’ fingers circle around the skin stretched around his cock. Look, he loves your brain. Absolutely loves hearing your thoughts. Would drop anything to hear one of your TED talks on how important representation is in media. However, you’re at your horniest when Chris talks down to you. Like you’re just a hole to fill. One of his personal toys. You clench down just at the thought as his fingers slide through your wetness to your clit. He grinds down on it mercilessly.

You throw your head back. Elbows leaning on the cushion underneath you. Chris takes this chance to run his fingers through your hair, tugging at the ends.

“How’s this cock feel, baby?”

“So big.” His angle is already perfect, but then he’s angling changes. Hips smacking down into your ass. You’re not a very religious person, but you think you catch a glimpse of heaven. It takes a minute for your brain to process that the water droplets falling to the couch are yours. How much more of his dick can you take? He’s literally fucking you to tears.

“Awe, honey.” He coos as Chris catches a tear on the rough pad of his thumb. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” He licks the tear off his thumb as his thrusts become more erratic.

His fingers absolutely terrorize your swollen clit when you cum on his cock. Hips trying to buck away from the insurmountable pleasure, you groan into the cushions. Your jaw is gonna hurt when you’re done clenching your teeth.

At the feel of your tight pussy milking his cock, he taps out. Coming in you for the upteenth time this week. Muscles tense as he fills you to the brim. Some cum already leaking out around the base of his cock. He distracts himself by groping your ass. Not like that really helps. He finishes cumming before he hauls your body back up. Giant hand wrapped around your upper arm as he quickly guides your doe legs back to the bedroom.

“You’re still wearing the vibrator today. Don’t think your tight ass got you out of it.”

“That’s why I married you.” You mock, letting yourself fall back onto the covers of your bed as Chris goes for the dresser.

“That’s cute. I’m gonna make you cum while you give the clerk my credit card.” He wouldn’t but that’s a hot scenario. The drawer barely snaps shut before he’s grabbing for his phone.

“What are you doing with that?” You ask about his phone as big hands wrap underneath your knees and bring them to your chest.

“Gotta test the product before I look like a douche in public when the vibrator doesn’t work.”

“Oh, carry on, then. I thought you were gonna film putting the vibrator in me.” Chris blinks as he processes your words. He glances at his phone and back at you, doing a double take. “Maybe next time.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Chris rubs the back of your thighs, letting you take over holding the back of your knees, before he’s grabbing the thin pink toy. He pauses when he gets a good look at your cunt. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Your pussy is absolutely filthy. Cum covers your puffy entrance and labias. He’s never had this short of a refractory period as blood rushes back to his cock. He runs the widest part of the vibrator through the mess. “God damnit.” He groans, running it back and forth. Your pussy just swallows the bulk of it whole so god damn easy with his cum as lube. The on/off button rests against your mound. Chris can’t help himself. He leans down to lick a stripe up your slit, helping to clean you about it.

You shout out, still in shock at the feel of his tongue, when the motor rotates within you. Chris’ jaw drops open, his finger still holding the app open at the highest setting.

“It works.” You finally get to breathe as he slides the vibrations off.

You’re on edge. You have been since you felt the powerful motor at its worst. Being this turned on all the time has to be bad for your health.

You haven’t felt anything since then. Thighs tensing everytime Chris picks up his phone to check the fucking weather. Even your sundress is too hot as Chris just sits on the holy grail of control. Nothing. Zip. Nada the whole drive. You should have made him pull over and tear the phone out of his pocket, but time is a bitch. He pulls into the parking lot as you count down from twenty. He parks the car and you pull up your sticky hair in a huff. He notices your ministrations and raises an eyebrow at you, peaking over his sunglasses before he gets out of the car.

Yeah, sure, smug son of a bitch, let’s put a vibrator against your prostate and see how well you can lift an eyebrow. You stew a little less when he opens your car door.

“What are you thinking about getting?” You stew even less when he opens the front door for you.

“I don’t- really, Chris?” As soon as you step foot in the restaurant, low vibrations start inside you. A shit eating grin spreads across his face as he lifts his sunglasses onto the top of his head, following you inside.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He says right before he asks for a table.

The low vibrations are a lot stronger when you’re seated at the patio. Eyes wide as you zone out. Chris tries to hold in a laugh and fails miserably.

Turning your attention back to him, you flip him off. He doesn’t even act surprised. His eyes crinkling from grinning so hard, he slides his thumb up on the app controller.

The motor picks up, making you feel more of an intense vibration. “Jesus Christ.” Your hips rock forward and you cross your ankles. “Nope.” Squeezing your legs together makes the vibrator worse. You have to uncross them as you slam your fist on the table, making the silverware jump. “I hate you.”

“Love you, too, babe.” Cocky bastard leans his head in his hands. Two fingers running over his bottom row of teeth before biting them as his thumb slides even further up.

Both of your hands move to the edges of the table, knuckles straining against the metal. “I-I’m divorcing you. Fuck.” You grit through your teeth, already feeling close from the thrill of it all.

“Are you gonna wear the same thing to sign the divorce papers ‘cause that sounds kind of hot actually.” He leans back, relaxing. His long legs stretching out into your space. He shouldn’t have any more room to slide his thumb up the screen. How does he have more room to slide his thumb up? The vibrations become even worse.

You lift a shaky middle finger back up. “Fuck-” you gasp as you cum around the toy “you.” Walls clenching around the toy, the vibrations prolong your orgasm. Heaven or hell. You don’t know. The only thing you do know is that this just became your favorite toy.

Chris looks at you through his long eyelashes as you try to keep it together. A welcoming cool breeze carries his warm cologne through the air as sweat beads at your temple.

He’s nice enough to turn down the intensity to the lowest setting as you order. Possible plans of revenge already running through your head.

#uh yeah lmao #I got an editor so that's pretty cool #she has no fucking interest in Marvel or CE so idk how much i'll ask her to edit #not to point out my mistakes but I miss whole ass words???#Anyways-#Chris Evans #chris evans smut #chris evans/ reader #chris evans/ y/n #chris evans x y/n #chris evans/ you #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #my writing

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heroloverangel · 4 years

Text

Stray

Happy Spooky Month, my Halloween costume is Villain Fucker.

You always did have a bad habit for taking in strays. As a kid, your parents constantly scolded you for feeding random dogs and bringing unfamiliar cats into the house. Keep giving it a place to go, they’d warn you every time, and you’d only tempt a stray animal to stick around.

Meeting Dabi was a lucky coincidence for both of you. You were being harassed by a pair of criminals on your way home, and were lucky that their threats were loud enough to annoy the real villain passing by. They were easy enough to deal with, and he was lucky that you wanted to thank him for his help. By the time you realized he only planned to take care of the muggers for bothering him, and never meant to help you, he was already in your bed. Months later, those old warnings still echo in your head whenever he shows up unannounced, eager for some comfort before he runs back off into the night.

You know it’s irrational to worry about him. He kills people for fun and profit, the world would objectively be a safer place if he were captured. Yet somehow, whenever you hear news about heroes clashing with the League of Villains, you’re secretly hoping he gets away and is headed towards your tiny, broken down apartment. Even though he’s never said it, you like to think he’s grateful for the safe spot to recover after a rough fight.

Today sounds like a really rough fight. It’s been hours already and the reporters are still describing the battle that happened earlier. Four heroes have been rushed to the hospital, and at least one villain was injured before fleeing. It’s disappointing that they don’t tell you who it was, and you’ve been glued to your phone the entire day. It’s not as if you can just call him like a normal person, but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gotten a vague text from an unknown number letting you know he’s alive.

It’s well after dark now, and the wait is driving you crazy. After another twenty minutes, you finally turn off the news and stand up to stretch. It won’t do much for your frazzled nerves, but a shower will at least help relax your tense muscles while you wait for information. You stay there until the hot water runs out then stand in the bathroom, breathing in the remaining steam and trying to take your mind off off him. You’re wrapping a towel around yourself when you’re startled by a sudden, loud SLAM from the other room that scares you half to death.

It’s silent for a minute before you gather enough courage to open the door and peek out. Immediately you let out a sigh of relief at the scene in front of you. Dabi’s standing with his back to you, reeking the distinct scent of ash and smoke that you’ve come to associate with him, his jacket sporting plenty of fresh damage. Blood drips from his knuckles, and it takes you too long to notice the smoldering, fist-sized hole he’s just punched into your wall. Well, that explains the noise.

“Hey,” you begin, but there’s no reaction. Cautiously you step closer. “I...um. I saw what happened, I’m glad you came over.” Still nothing. “Are you okay? Dabi?” You reach out to touch his shoulder, and it breaks him out of whatever thought he’d been focused on.

He spins around to face you and for the first time since you met, you’re actually afraid of him. You’ve never seen him this angry before, glaring at you with a look of rabid fury in his eyes. Automatically you step back but he’s fueled by adrenaline and moves too fast to avoid. His hand latches around your throat and squeezes, holding you in place as his lips crash down on yours.

The staples decorating his face are warm, a familiar side effect of his quirk, and scrape roughly along your skin as he forces your mouth open for his tongue. His free hand yanks off the towel wrapped around you and gropes at your chest before you can stop him. Your nipples harden at his touch; despite his harsh treatment, he knows more than enough about how to get your pulse racing for him. A calloused thumb rubs over your nipple and he tightens on your neck in response to the moan you let out.

You push at his chest for air, and eventually he releases you with a final, stinging bite to your lower lip. There’s a metallic taste of blood when you swallow. You chance another glance up at him and his grin does nothing to put you at ease; he looks far too much like a wild animal baring his teeth at his prey. “Hey, doll.” He grabs your chin and forces another kiss on you the moment you open your mouth, barely restraining his agitation with every move. The grip on your shoulders is almost painful as he pulls you against his overheated body, his cock already hard beneath his pants. Your skin is so soft and vulnerable compared to his, and you struggle in protest when his nails sink into your arms. “You gonna reject me?” His voice is a snarl when he pulls back next. “Really? After all the shit I’ve been through today?” You can tell from his tone, it’s more of a warning than a guilt trip.

“Sorry,” you offer, rubbing soothing circles into his tense shoulders. “What can I do?” You’re always so obedient for him, practically begging him to leave you bruised and aching. That’s what keeps Dabi coming back more than anything, and the tiny gasp that slips out of you when he pinches sharply on your nipples has him throbbing. You’re such a cute toy for him to play with.

“Get on your knees, slut.” You lower yourself in front of him without an argument, watching him fumble with his belt until he’s able to free his dick for your attention. “Put that fucking mouth to good use.”

You nod, giving him a sweet smile before wrapping your hand around the base and running your tongue over the leaking tip of his cock. Dabi lets out a pleased grunt when you suck gently on the head and release him with a wet pop. You focus on the underside of it, giving slow, gentle kisses to the row of piercings along his shaft. He’s sensitive there, and the horny growl he gives you has your cunt dripping in anticipation. Your other hand moves lower to cup his balls and you trace over his veins, enjoying how they pulse eagerly under your fingers. Carefully you graze along his length, and are rewarded with a violent yank at your hair.

“Cut that teasing shit out before I break your goddamn teeth.” Your apology is muted by his dick shoving back into your mouth. You swirl your tongue over him again, opening wider to take more of his cock past your lips. You know he wants to jam himself down your throat, but you’ll need to work up to that. You bob up and down on him, slowly sucking more of his dick and his hips begin to rock with your movements. A hand weaves into your hair and you wince at the feel of his staples catching on the strands, but he ignores your discomfort in favor of pulling you further around him. “Take me like a good little bitch.”

He keeps the steady pressure on your head but lets you work at your own pace, and soon enough the tip of your tongue is rubbing against the last of his piercings. You’ve only got a few inches left, surely you won’t mind a bit of help. The squeal you let out is muffled as Dabi’s fist tightens around your skull to hold you steady as his hips rut forward, jamming the full length of his cock into your unsuspecting mouth. You’re too busy trying not to gag to appreciate the delighted moan he gives you, your poor throat spasming wildly around the intrusion. You look up at him with watery eyes and he’s smirking at you with pride. “Don’t keep me waiting, doll.”

For a moment you’ve forgotten how to breathe and only kneel there choking on him until he withdraws just a fraction and you remember to take merciful air into your lungs. You relax the muscles as best you can, a difficult task with his dick rammed against your tonsils. You start moving again, letting his strong hand guide you back and forth on his cock exactly how he likes it.You focus on his heavy panting, the obscene things he hisses at you through gritted teeth make you pussy clench. You can tell he’s getting close, and you double your efforts to help him finish.

An unexpectedly harsh buck of his hips has your throat tightening around him on instinct, and his moan signals his impending release. He tugs your head back and pulls out of your mouth, saliva coating every inch of him. You don’t have time to react as his free hand grips his twitching cock, jerking himself for a few seconds before he orgasms, strands of cum spurting out onto your lips and sliding down your chin to your chest. “Fuck,” he sighs. “You look good like that.” He looks down at you expectantly and you get the message. You make a show of running your fingers through the mess, dragging the hot cum further over your breasts and hard nipples then bringing it to your mouth to lick it off.

Dabi’s insatiable now that you’ve made the mistake of encouraging him. “Up,” he demands, and you scramble to your feet before he can yank you up by your scalp. He inspects your face, admiring his work and his thumb wipes off a tear you hadn’t realized had escaped. He kisses you again while his hands roam over your heated skin, and the wetness between your thighs is undeniable. “You sure play innocent when you’re getting soaked over choking on my dick,” he taunts. He doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you instead and dragging you towards your bed. He shoves your face into the pillows and you struggle to lift yourself but he presses on your back to keep you down. You hear him stripping off his clothes and then rough, feverish skin is flush against your own. He gropes at your hips, pulling your lower half onto your knees. “Ass up, slut,” he orders, cock already recovered and rubbing along your dripping folds.

“Dabiii,” you whine, wiggling to make him slide against you. “Just put it in already--ohhh…” He slides in and you get no time to adjust to the stretch of him as he bottoms out without stopping. You’d been nervous about his piercings the first time you slept together, but now they send a shiver down your spine when you feel the warm metal rub inside you. Positioned like this, they stroke over your g-spot with each thrust and you’re babbling praise at him within minutes.

“I never get enough of this pussy,” he murmurs, bruising grip on your ass. “Always so ready to milk my cock, huh?” You dig your fists into the pillow and nod, words catching in your throat as he fucks into you more aggressively. He stretches over you, warm chest pressing against your back while he bites sharply along your neck. You clench down on him and he laughs at you. “That’s my sweet little cumdump.”

“God, Dabi…” you trail off, hissing when his nails sink into your hips to pull you onto him. He hammers inside you faster, chasing his own end and merely taking you along for the ride. This deep, you can feel him throbbing with a need to dominate you; the sounds forced from your abused throat tell him you’re loving every mark and bite he leaves on your naked body. His teeth sink deeper into the smooth skin of your shoulder and you wince. “That hurts,” you complain, trying to squirm and put some distance away from his jaws. He only fucks inside you harder in response, obviously enjoying your struggle.

“That’s the point.” One hand slides over your bruised hip to finger your swollen clit and your back arches up against him. “Oh, shit. Feel how hard you’re squeezing my dick?” You shudder, his ragged voice in your ear makes you feel like you’re burning alive. You bury your face back in the pillows and do your best to keep your cool, but tonight he wants to hear every filthy noise he can urge out of your needy mouth. He releases your hip to yank your head up, grip hard enough that for a moment you wonder if he’s actually trying to snap your neck. “You’re gonna make everyone in this piece of shit building know who’s fucking you.”

That’s how it always is with Dabi. He gets to keep some sense of self respect when he comes, while you’re reduced to a squealing mess for him. His fingers grow merciless as they tease your clit, demanding louder cries from you with every touch. “Don’t stop,” you pant, the tension inside you straining to the breaking point. “I’m gonna...fuck, there!” You hadn’t realized that he was just as close, and the steady twitch of your pussy around him is enough to send him over the edge. “Feels so...D-Dabi!”” you wail, feeling every drop of his hot cum pooling inside you. Your own orgasm feels like fire in your veins as your greedy cunt takes everything he’ll give you, battered voice begging for it. You’d be embarrassed with yourself if your brain hadn’t effectively shut down long before this point.

He releases you, letting your spent body drop face-first into the bed while he rides out his pleasure. You can feel the punishing smack of his hips slow to a lazy grind before he finally pulls out. He looks down at your exhausted, marked up form and gives a solid slap to your bruised ass to bring you back to your senses. “You good?”

“...Ugh. Good enough,” you mumble. You lay there boneless and immobile while he stretches and wanders off to your bathroom. You hear the shower turn on and an insult shouted out at the freezing water, and manage to pull yourself up to a sitting position by the time he comes out. Of course he’s scrubbing the remaining ash out of his hair with your last clean towel. “Wow, you look like shit,” he taunts as he collects his clothes.

“Yeah, well fuck you too.”

There’s a flutter in your stomach when he smirks at you in return. “You couldn’t handle that again.” He shoves his boots back on and to your surprise, leans over to kiss you. “Gonna lay low for a week maybe. Fix your hot water before I get back.”

You roll you eyes. “You make a lot of demands for a guy who doesn’t live here.”

He shrugs, pulls his jacket around himself and heads for the door. “That’s your fault, doll.”

The door slams behind him and you sigh, your limbs protesting as you stretch your sore muscles. You’re left alone with your thoughts, and outside the heat of the moment you wonder if you should feel guilty. You’re not stupid; you know what he is, and that some day this is all going to end badly for both of you. Still, in your heart you know that you’ll never be able to turn him in to the heroes. Maybe it’s some misplaced sense of loyalty, maybe it’s just the sex, but you hate the idea of seeing him caught.

He’s trouble, but he’s your stray.

#lemon #bnha x reader #dabi x reader

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princeanxious · 5 years

Text

The Royal Librarian- Chapter 1

Chapter 1- “The Road to Perfection is Destructive.”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Future analogical, future sidelines royality, sidelines established dukeceit, background remile

Word Count: a little over 3k

Warnings For This Chapter: Virgil’s got anxiety and is a bit self depricating, brief mentions of panic attacks, Virgil stays up and works himself for so much longer and harder than is healthy for a normal person in one session, boi highkey overthinks a ton when he’s not occupied. Don’t work yourself for 24 hours straight like Virge does, it’s not good for you.

Minor notes on Virgil’s mental state in this fic: Virgil has ADHD(as reflected by my own life experience) that shows up in different ways here and there, and he suffers from RSD(Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) which drives Virgil’s need to be perfect or fail till he damn near collapses from exhaustion, which also just feeds into his chronic anxiety. Thats all for now!

Chapter one(you are here!)|Chapter two(coming soon!)

Bonus stuff:

-the Rough Library Layout

[[MORE]]

Quiet. Such a word was practically synonymous with Virgil’s existence. The young adult practically grew up in silence, sought quiet spaces out like a moth drawn to a flame. And like a deer spooked by a snapping branch, he often fled from loud groups larger than three. He had been a quiet child, content to lose himself in any book he could get his hands on, reading for hours in any quiet atmosphere he could find. Alone, and content because of it.

So it was really no surprise he picked up a local library apprenticeship when he’d turned fifteen, and was a well-versed and well-read librarian by age nineteen. He had his lifelong friend Patton to thank for making him apply alongside hundreds of others to the opening position of the Royal Astra Family’s castle Librarian position, a year later. And, to be fair? He’d only applied because he’d been sure his resume would never have been seen, let alone selected, if only to simply placate his best friend’s excited begging.

He didn’t account for Patton’s connections as the Royal Head Cook to shift that margine of possibility to reach at least being seen. Though Patton chalked it up to the fact that he’d always talked about Virgil around the royal family anyway, long before the position had needed a replacement. It seemed to be just Virgil’s luck that ‘Virgil’ just happened to be a very uncommon name.

The panic attack that followed after he received a letter that his resume had been selected alongside a select few others for further evaluation had been a rough one. Still, he held out hope that his perceived inexperienced youth would save him, the stress and responsibility of such a serious job couldn’t be trusted with some ambitious kid like him, could it?

And, besides, it’s not like Patton’s constant praises carried that much weight, right? That's just how Patton was, a personified ball of sunshine! It was why Virgil was never surprised to hear Patton mention the royal family and staff by name on accident, or mention a silly story involving them in private, he’d clearly become close to them as the Head Cook. Though, the more he thought about it, he realized that.. Well, it’s not like the royal family had known Patton as long as Virgil had. Patton could be too trusting, and tried to see good in everyone, and well, perhaps the royal family trusted his judge of character over just simple skills. And wasn’t it just peachy that Virgil was lifelong best friends with said ball of personified sunshine? (Not that he’d ever trade their friendship for the world, never. It was just Virgil’s problem that he could never seem to tell Patton no, huh?)

Eventually, a nerve wracking week passed before Virgil finally had his answer in the form of an acceptance letter hand-delivered and an accompanying uniform and granted permissions to traverse and move into the castle grounds, all ordered and signed by King Thomas himself.

Apparently, his suspicions over Patton’s influence had indeed won out.

Three days later, Virgil finds himself silently saying goodbye to the home he’d made on his own, not as terribly forlorn over the loss as he thought he’d be. The small cottage he’d been renting didn’t feel much like home to him, anyway, not like a library did. Still, there was a longing to hide from the large change crashing into his life, and thrice he’d hid under his covers and cursed his weak will against Patton’s puppy eye’d pout. Eventually though, he’d talked himself out of his panicked haze, just in time for his first shift the following day.

“I can’t believe I let Pat talk me into this.” The ravenette grumbled as he leaned to the side. Using his weight and momentum to shift the sliding ladder he was perched on, he slid closer to the next book he’d been reaching for.

“Become the castle’s new Librarian! It’ll be fun, he said! It’ll help sooth my anxiety to work with even more books and even less people, he said, the head cook who works with at least 20 other staff each hour to maintain a steady meal plan for the entire castle staff daily!” The little librarian huffed to himself, resignation seeping out with each controlled breath.

His first day hadn’t been an easy one, and though he hadn’t expected it to go smoothly, he certainly hadn’t expected it to become such a mess. It wasn’t his first time working as a librarian, but leave it to good ol’ Virgil to let life make his days as eventful as possible!

From the moment he woke to the time he had his lunch break, not that he would actually willingly take a break nor need one yet, the day had been.. busy, to put it lightly.

It’d been storming when he woke, and though he was on time to get ready and leave, he’d only realized that his umbrella had broken the month prior. It had left him to make a twenty minute dash in the pouring rain when he found no other options.

He was plenty grateful for a bathroom stationed just inside of the library building entrance, where he hurriedly rushed inside to change out of his soaked attire. He’d been smart enough to pack away his official Royal Librarian uniform into a water resistant bag with a few additional dry essentials, and let his common clothes get soaked instead.

In a short six and a half minutes, Virgil was changed and mostly dry, though there was little he could do about his damp hair aside from comb his fingers through it. With his wet clothes packed away, he made it into the library on time to begin his first very long shift.

He’d already been sworn into secrecy when it came to occasionally dealing with the royal family’s history and artifacts in the future, and with his first and hopefully one of very few ever meetings with King Thomas out of the way, he was officially the new Royal Librarian. And now, also the only. As he was told in no certain terms that the last had retired and fucked off into obscurity before anyone had realized that the library had been left in disorganized chaos.

The old coot had apparently made his own system for everything, and hadn't bothered to write any of it down. From sorting sections to assigning books to genres, none if it clear and often very, very unorganized.

Virgil’s first big task was to comb through the entire damn building and use a new system, one that made sense. He was to reorganize every book and every section, using the appropriate genres and sorting. This way the royal family could actually functionally use the library and not waste time sorting through chaos.

This was where Virgil found himself three hours later, on the verge of a minor mental breakdown as he’d just barely sorted an eighth of the books on the main library floor into the Dewey Decimal system.

He’d had plenty of empty tables at the beginning of his journey, and right now every single one had some few stacks of books on each, labeled accordingly. Aside from his muffled ranting and the pattering of rain, the library was relatively silent.

It was odd, being alone in such a gigantic library. It almost reminded him of home.

He paused for a brief moment, having set down the final few books taken from the bookshelf he’d been working on. He’d gone through just one row of 6 bookshelves, and had 7 rows left to go, and that was just barely counting putting books back in the previous shelves as he went. A whine left him as he realized just how long this project was going to take.

“Fucking fuck.”

Somewhere between the second row and the third, Patton had stopped by to check in on Virgil. He found him hard at work sorting the fiction section on the left side of the building, tables half forgotten as Virgil attached unobtrusive non-damaging number labels to each and every book. Stacks of books lay carefully placed on the floor against each shelf, seperated by label and lack of label.

“You already look so at home, Virge!” The head cook whisper-shouted, though the sentiment was not necessary as the only other being in the library was the librarian himself.

“Yeah yeah, hush you. I’m a bit too swamped for ‘I told you so’s at the moment. So, what's up?” Glancing up at the taller man, Virgil briefly noted a small package wrapped in cloth was held in his hands.

“Can you spare a minute to eat?” Patton giggled, but Virgil knew better. He’d known Patton since they were kids, it wasn’t a question. Or a decision to be made. With a sigh, he placed the book he was holding in its place before turning to the cheery cook. “Yeah, I can.”

“How’s the kitchen today?” He asked lightly, having eaten the light meal quickly in order to get back to sorting. Patton hadn’t commented, nor had he been shooed away when Virgil began sorting again. He contently sat out of the way to finish his own lunch, his original goal having been accomplished.

“Oh! It’s going great today, honestly. Not too many mishaps from the newbies today either, so that's a bonus! And well, you know, making mistakes is in human nature but, they’re learning so quickly, I’m so proud of them! They’ll be taking my place by fall, just you wait and see! And, well, Roman stopped by earlier to swipe some snacks for Prince Logan, his brother, and himself. You know, the usual.” Patton chuckled, and if Virgil had looked, he’d seen the besotted look Patton always had when he talked about the head knight of the prince, he’d seen it a hundred times and was bound to see it a hundred or so more.

“Oh, speaking of,” Virgil butted in playfully, “I’ll finally get a chance to meet this knight and shining armor you’ve been swooning over for over a year now, huh?”

He watched Patton’s freckled face flush bright red, sputtering and then coughing on his mouthful of food. Virgil just cackled delightedly, stepping over to give Patton a few hard pats on the back to be sure his friend didn’t choke.

He laughed again when Patton gave him a pout and a soft “You’re so mean to me, Virge!” Eventually Virgil was able to placate Patton with a gentle hug, and the cook was sunshine and smiles again.

A finished lunch break later had Virgil finally sending Patton off, back to the warm bustling kitchens in the main castle building while he moved on to the next portion of his task.

He quickly found the steady back and forth rythme soothing. Pick a few books up, put them away. Pull a few books out, sort it by number as per their section of genre, set it in the right place. It was a blessing to find that there was just enough of a consistency to the previous plan that he could find up to five to six books in the same category in a row, and each set of books could be similar in subject, usually ending up just one section away. Often was the wayward book that found itself out of place, though he had assumed that these were often books just placed back haphazardly considering their subject patterns.

Often the most scattered and random books had ended up being of a few select categories. Without fail, he found that it would end up being a book on Space and Astronomy and/or Mathematics, in-depth Anatomy of Plants and Animals, young adult Fantasy Adventure novels, or Horror novels. It was.. Sort of odd, how there had been no section for each and all of these books, and yet there were so many evenly scattered. Perhaps that had been on purpose then, not haphazardly placed. But why?

Too busy to think deeply about it, he designated spots fitting each book type, and decided he’d figure out what he’d do with the puzzle later.

It was 6 pm by the time he’d finished the fourth row, and Patton had stopped by briefly to check on his best friend. He watched Patton’s merry expression drop some, concern seeping in as he took in his best friend’s progress.

“It’s almost 6:30, Virgil. Have you had another break yet?” He asked, watching his best friend continue moving back and forth. “Aren’t you tired? It’s been a little under 12 hours at this point, kiddo.. dontcha think it’s time to call it for the day? I mean, you’re already halfway there!”

“Library hours, at least Librarian work hours, don’t end till 9. And yeah, I guess I’m a little tired? But I’m in the zone, Pat. You know how I get when I’m in The Zone. If I stop now, who knows how long it’ll take me to finish sorting the other half?” Virgil rambled, half distracted and still trying to keep a vice grip on his concentration. “And besides, King Thomas said he’d be checking in on me tomorrow.”

“But Virge, you know he doesn’t expect you to have it done in one day. Thomas isn’t like that! That’s why he gave you a whole week to settle in, so you could move into the Library’s living quarters-which you haven’t done yet, might I add!- and get the library situated.” Patton stood stiffly, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. Virgil was as stubborn as he himself was when his mind was made up.

“Look, Pat.. just, I’m sorry. You know I hate to worry you. I’ll try to stop at 10, go home and get some rest, and tomorrow i’ll move my stuff into my new home here. And, i’ll take a break from sorting for a few hours. Okay?” Virgil reached out, taking Patton’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He let Patton pull him into a tight hug, and didn’t resist when Patton briefly rubbed at his tense shoulders.

“Okay. Just, take care of yourself, Virge, okay? If I find out you stayed out an hour later than 11 pm, you’re gonna be in big trouble mister!” Patton giggled, lightening the mood the way he knew how.

“Yeah, yeah, hear ya loud and clear, Dad.” He watched Patton beam at the nickname, and moments later he watched Patton disappear behind the library’s main entrance door as his friend left him be, reassured. Virgil gave a heavy sigh, looking down guiltily at the stray book clutched in his hands.

“Let’s just hope ‘trouble’ just means a week of disappointed reprimands like last time…”

Hours later, Virgil’s head jerked up from his sorting as a father clock somewhere in the library dinged, signalling 10 o'clock. Biting his lip, he walked to the front doors and examined his options. He found he could lock the library from the inside, and pulled down the shutters. Briskly, he moved to cover each large window with their thick drapery, finding the adorning cloth thick enough to keep the low artificial light from seeping out. He dimmed the inner library lights so the library looked closed, but otherwise the building was still functioning from within.

Unless someone else had keys to the doors of the library, no one would know that the librarian was still stationed and working within. No one could see out, and more importantly, no one could see in. Which meant that Virgil was safe from Patton’s wrath if the Cook came to check on him, temporarily at least.

“Fuck, Patton’s gonna be so mad..” He muttered to himself, leaning against the librarian’s desk with a deep sigh. He’d briefly admired the beautiful desk earlier in the day, from the intricate carving to the beautiful dark mahogany. It would serve him well in the future, he hoped, after the thorough ‘grounding’ he knew he was going to get from Patton.

He shook his head to free his thoughts. There was no sense in getting in trouble and feeling guilty about it if he didn’t do anything to learn from in the first place. It was time to get back to work, and if he was lucky, he’d finish the main body of the library by the time his next shift started. Then, he could try and play it off, like nothing had ever happened, he’d just keep Patton out of the library till tomorrow to hide his finished work.

11 pm came and passed as he worked, and when he looked next at the clock, he found it was nearly 4 am. Tired but determined with only one row left, Virgil trekked on with a new vigor. All-nighters weren’t anything new to Virgil, not in the slightest. He was a creature of the night who rarely got a full night's rest to begin with. And sure, it was rare he worked his body so hard and for so long, but fixations were hard to break once in The Zone, it’s not like he could feel it past the hyperfixation haze.

Patton had often told him off for it when they were young, but as time passed they’d come to realize that’s just how Virgil was. Laying down did nothing to lure his mind to sleep on even the tiredest of nights if his insomnia had something to say about it. Better that he used the extra time to be productive, rather than spend 6 hours tossing and turning in bed, numbers and thoughts crowding in his head, and only getting up more restless than before. Patton often just tried to ease the aftermath if he could help it.

Sliding the last book into place was like sliding a final puzzle piece into a massive puzzle. The triumph of accomplishment had never felt so good, not like this.

Though, he quickly found himself aimless not 10 minutes later, seeking errors to fix and lost books to give a home. His brain wasn’t ready to let go of it’s fixation just yet, but as each second crawled by, he found himself recentering into the real world.

His body ached, and he was exhausted. His stomach gnawed at him weakly in hunger and his eyes watered from staring unblinkingly for so long. He eyed the chair behind the librarian’s desk, his desk now, he reminded himself.

“Screw it.. The Library’s sorted enough, I've got the rest of the week to make it perfect. A ten minute nap won’t hurt, right..?” He huffed to himself as he pulled the window curtains open one by one. Shuffling over to the main library doors, he unlocked them and raised the shutters. Soft morning sun rays fluttered into the connected windowed hallway just beyond the doors. He smiled at the tiny beauty of life, spotting the main library windows letting in the same comforting, dappled light.

Pulling his cloak tighter around himself, he plopped into the chair at his desk, finding it soft and comforting. Leaning forward, he rested his head on his arms, and under the fluttering morning light, succumbed to sleep’s gentle embrace.

Unknowing of the rude awakening that was soon to come.

Chapter two

660 notes · View notes

jenomark · 5 years

Text

Part 1

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Renjun, Jeno ➔Genre: Smut ➔Warnings: The taking of Haechan’s virginity + vaginal penetration + emphasis on the use of no condom. ➔Word count: 4,640

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and now you’re taking his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↠ Part 2

“I’ve got swag.”

As soon as those words left Haechan’s mouth, you could see the regret spreading across his face. He was trying to appear confident in your presence, like he was just one smirk away from becoming the bad boy of your dreams. Indeed, his face did say Devil, but the way he held his body slightly slumped over in embarrassment spoke volumes about the boy he was inside. Twenty never seemed so scary.

“Is that what you call it?” you asked. You smiled to ease any awkwardness.

Haechan poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He looked away from you then, his eyes scanning up and down the street. Five minutes ago, he was meant to be on his way back to the dorms in a car with his manager. Somehow, all of that charm was put to good use and he asked to stay behind to wait with you while your car came; it worked.

“It’s cold tonight.” he said. He stuck his hands in his jean jacket and hugged them around his front.

“It’s January.” you said, your voice sarcastic.

He looked back at you, his face hiding none of his feelings. Confusion. Somehow, an understanding of the person before him. You watched his breath spill out in wisps of smoke, the cold air circling up towards the night sky and disappearing. You were leaning against the wall, just inches apart, but you wanted to take a step forward and warm his lips against yours. It was all you could think about since you first met him.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he said. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Haechan laughed. The sound of it must have carried all across the city, winding through the streets and getting trapped in the bare bones of trees. Oh, how you’ve thought about how his mouth would feel pressed against your body as he laughed, the vibrations travelling up your stomach and over your breasts.

“No,” you said, finally. “ I think you’re very intelligent. You’re probably the most clever man I’ve ever met. You know what you want. Sometimes, you’re too scared to ask for it, but, when you do ask for it, Haechan, it will be beautiful.”

“Do you know what I want?” he asked.

If his question caught you off-guard, you didn’t show it. Haechan was good at calling you out, just like were at keeping him in check. You watched your car roll up and come to a stop, black and ominous on the curb. You closed the gap between you and Haechan, your face just a whisper away from his. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips, his eyes tracing over every line. You poked your tongue out just a little before you spoke.

“Yes,” you said. “But the question is, are you brave enough?”

You moved past him, bumping your shoulder against his. You did not look behind you. You could feel his eyes on you, the heat warming you on the cold night. You could have offered him a ride home, opened your car door and let him into your life publicly, but that would get too many people talking. You were always less about talk and more about action.

Starting a friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t for the faint of heart. Going into it, you knew it was trouble. You also knew it would take up a lot of your time, cause your friends to notice, and create a dependent attachment with each other. The promise of it ending badly wasn’t a matter of if but when. When the kiss of death came, life as you knew it would change. As much as you geared yourself up for it, you’d never be ready.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he said. “I’m starting to think you want to spend time with me.”

You were sitting in the company cafe, your table far from prying eyes. Your head was buried in your phone when he walked in, but you didn’t need to hear his loud voice to know he was there. The air changed whenever he was near. Your body felt warmer, your hair standing on end, like it was confused with the temperature. Hot and cold is the way you liked your relationship with him. With Renjun and Jeno, he seemed more relaxed in his environment. None of them saw you, at first, which was alright with you, because you could watch him a little longer. On his own, without you, Haechan did act like a fool, and you liked it. He didn’t act more mature, didn’t stop himself from looking too ugly when he played around. When Renjun joked, Haechan laughed freely at the ceiling, his hand clutching his stomach like his intestines might fall out if he laughed hard enough. He pulled his cap off, ran his fingers through his hair, and replaced it. He kept checking his phone while waiting for his coffee, his eyes scanning the screen.

Haechan: I’ve been thinking about what you said.

You looked down at your own phone. Saved under Devil, his text came up with a Ping!, your phone's volume all the way up. Several people turned in your direction. You made eye contact with them all before settling on Haechan who was making his way towards you.

“I’ll see you later,” Haechan called to Renjun and Jeno. “Tell everyone I’ll be late.”

He sat down across from you, took his cap off once more and ran his fingers through his hair again. You noticed that his hair was a few shades darker than the last time you saw him. He saw you looking and leered in a way that suggested he knew how attracted you were to him.

“You didn’t give me time to text you back.” you said.

“I’m here in the flesh, “ he said. “Answer me now.”

“But you didn’t ask me anything.”

Haechan placed his cap back on his head. He took his phone and started writing out a text message to you. You watched his fingers working, their slight crookedness mesmerizing. Everything he did was beautiful. Every move he made kept people wondering what he would do next. You were caught up in it, too, the hype. You found yourself giving him more attention than he deserved, more than you knew was good for you.

“There,” he said, his voice coming out childishly. “Question has been asked.”

You looked at your screen glow. You could read the last few words before your screen shut off. You locked eyes with him. In that moment, all smugness was gone. Haechan looked terrified and worried that you would say no. You made a show of looking down and reading the whole message in front of him. Underneath the table, you took your foot and slowly worked it up his leg.

Haechan: Will you take my virginity?

Reading the text made Haechan’s fear strike you like a hot chord through your stomach. You placed your phone face down on the table and locked eyes with him again. Before his phone lit up with a message that felt like it had never been typed with your hands, you silently prayed to yourself. Haechan looked down at his phone, at the answer he had waited months for.

You: Yes.

You find yourself waiting on a street corner in the rain for him. He’s late because he has schedules, and you’re on time because you faked being sick. When he gets there, he apologizes profusely, ducking underneath your umbrella like getting wet with the rain will burn his skin. Everything feels weird, like you’re in a movie where neither of the lead actors know what the hell they are doing, so they try to remember the lines they know they should not have forgotten.

“You could have waited inside,” he said, taking the umbrella from your hands so that he could hold it higher. “Where it’s warm and dry.”

“I didn’t think you would find my apartment all on your own.” you said.

“Wow,” he said. “You really do think I’m a fool.”

You lived in an apartment above a tiny seamstress shop. The rent was decently priced because she stored half of her belongings in the space. If you didn’t complain, you could stay there as long as you wanted without burning through your paychecks on rent. The storefront sat nestled between other businesses, the door to your place narrow and unassuming. Too many take-out delivery men scrambled to find you, their faces growing hot with anger every time you weren’t there to meet them at the pavement. You had, in fact, learned your lesson. Haechan folded the umbrella before he stepped in through the door, shaking out the droplets back onto the street.

“I’m so cold.” he said. He pulled his sleeves down over his knuckles. The adorableness of it made your heart do a twirl.

You shut the door behind you and stood at the bottom of the stairs leading up to your place. You removed your soaked shoes and he followed, his body shrinking down an inch once he took off his boots. You took his jacket from him and hung it on a hook after taking care of yours. Haechan shook out his wet hair, splatters of water making dots on your dry clothes.

“I’m going to kill you.” you said.

“Honey, “ he pouted. “Not until after we’ve had our first date.”

You began to wonder if sex was too formal, which felt like a silly thing to do. Not dating didn’t feel normal, yet, being with him in such a confined space felt as normal as could be. You were comfortable with his humor, his cockiness dripping down the walls, flooding every room in your life.

“You’re impossible.” you said.

You went upstairs, your wet toes squishing against the carpet. Before you opened the door to your living area, you wondered what he might think. You didn’t live in a nice dorm like he did. Before figuring out where you would play out your relationship, you both briefly entertained the idea of having sex in his bed. According to Haechan, it was more comfortable, smelled nicer, and his bathroom was just a few feet away should you want to engage in shower sex. Compared to your small place, his dorm might have felt like a palace. You had told him it was too risky. “Oh?” he had said. “You have a problem with Johnny watching us?”

“What do you think?” you asked.

Though you didn’t want to know, you knew you had to ask. As a friend, you appreciated his approval, and friends is what you were. Haechan looked around at your shoe box of a home, at the normal bits of your life scattered here and there, and the random boxes that belonged to the lady you rented from, and he whistled. He saw your kitchen counter scattered with your laptop and files, the pieces of junk that were stacked mile high.

“I like it, “ he said. “It’s sweet, like you.”

“Sweet.” you repeated.

You moved further into the apartment, removing old mugs and placing them in the sink. Haechan hovered in the doorway, his awkwardness thick and uncomfortable. You let the last dish fall into the sink with a clatter that disturbed the weird silence growing between you. You approached him and touched the bottom of his hoodie. From the rain, the edges were soaked. Without saying anything, you peeled it up his body. Halfway through, Haechan moved as if he remembered he could, lifting his arms so that you yank the hoodie over his head. Underneath, he was wearing a white t-shirt that looked gossamer thin.

“Feel better?” you asked.

Haechan grunted in response. You took another step forward until your face was close to his. You touched your fingers against his fingers. In surprise, he pulled them away. You didn’t think he would be very confident about his prowess, but you never expected him to be so shy. In a way, it was a let down. You wanted Haechan to push you back by your shoulders, put his hand on the back of your neck and pull you to his lips like he couldn’t survive another moment if he couldn’t taste you. The reality of Haechan was much different.

“I’m sorry.” he said.

“Don’t apologize,” you said. “It’s okay. Things take time.”

You couldn’t wait an eternity for him to make the first move. You turned around, your hair whipping him in the face, strands of it wet with his spit. You didn’t look back as you removed your shirt and tossed it aside. You walked towards your bedroom and turned back once you crossed over the threshold. Haechan was holding your shirt in his hands having caught it, his fingers rubbing the fabric. You ushered him forward with a crook of your finger. He shuffled on his feet, dropping the shirt as he came. The moment his body crossed the threshold to be with yours, you balled his shirt in your fist, pulled him into you, and kissed him on the lips. Kissing him made you feel high. Your body felt relaxed and at peace. His hand pressed against the small of your back, his tongue colliding with yours, the hotness of his breath turning you on. You brought your fingers into his hair and tugged on it so that he would reveal his neck to you. You kissed his moles, your teeth nipping at his throat and causing him to moan.

“Whoa.” he said softly.

He had kissed before, but never like that. He had told you his first kiss happened because of the pressure from others. The moment his lips met hers, it felt like it was over. You were not that girl from his childhood. Haechan kissing you was like a flower opening up to bloom. He wanted to peck you at first, his lips tight, his eyes closed even tighter. You let him take his time and explore your mouth. Gradually, his hands moved over your body with the rhythm of his tongue. Before you knew it, he had turned you both around and pushed you against your bedroom wall.

“Easy.” you said, placing your hand against his chest.

You could feel his erection poking you. He placed his hands on either side of you against the wall and tried to calm his body down. His kisses became eager, and it was hard for him to catch his breath. If he had it his way, he would have dropped his pants right there and fucked you against the wall.

“I’m taking off your bra.” he said.

Haechan went behind your back to feel for the clasp but there was none. You raised your eyebrows at him, at the desperate look on his face as he searched around for what he thought should be there. He believed he was doing something wrong by not being able to find it. For once, you’re the one that felt smug. You pushed out your chest so he would get the hint. He looked down and saw a little clasp sitting between your breasts, its face shining with betrayal.

“Go ahead.” you whispered.

His fingers touched the coolness of the clasp before unfastening it. Your bra bounced back to your sides, your breasts falling out of their cups. You angled your shoulders and let your bra slip down to the floor. Haechan looked at your breasts, your pert nipples standing almost as erect as his cock. When he didn’t immediately touch you, you took his hand and placed them over the softness of your breasts. You kissed him impatiently on his mouth, your body rubbing against his hard cock to tease him. His hands still on your breasts, you pulled your leggings off your body, your panties rolling down with them.

“You can touch me,” you said. “Mr. Swag.”

Joking around with him lightened the mood a little. Haechan laughed, his comfort level rising with each chuckle. Though he didn’t touch you further, he felt confident enough to remove his own clothes. In the light, you could see his body perfectly. His collarbones and neck were on full display. You could see the beginnings of a hickey covering the mole on his neck. You would have to be more careful next time. His nipples were small, his skin glowing. When he breathed in, you could see his rib cage, each delicate rung begging to meet your tongue. A light smattering of hair ran from his belly button down to his cock. His pubes were newly trimmed with the hand of someone very nervous. You wanted a good look at his cock, but he was covering himself with his hands. You kept your eyes traveling down his toned thighs, his knobby knees, and the white socks covering his ankles.

“It feels like you’re judging me,” he said. “Is it bad? Do I look good to you?”

“Bad?” you asked. “You could never look bad. I am missing part of the picture., though”

Haechan looked down at his hands and slowly removed them like he was unveiling a gift. When you saw his cock, you smiled. Hard, he was bigger than you thought he would be. Just from the look of his body, you knew he would come quickly the moment he felt any intense friction. Haechan held so much pent up energy in his body that no amount of jerking off in the dorm shower could release. You knew making him come was in his best interest, but you really wanted him to hold off for as long as possible.

“Beautiful.” you said.

“I think I’m supposed to say that about you,” he said. “I think-”

Your fingers were lightly stroking his happy trail as he spoke, or rather, became quiet. He closed his eyes as your hands tickled up his body until they found his nipples. You bent down and licked his small, dark bud, your tongue wetting him so much he was glistening. Your hands were on his ass, a handful of him being kneaded by your fingers. Once you started touching him, it was you who looked desperate. Unexpectedly, Haechan tucked his hand underneath your chin and brought your face up to look at him. The kiss he gave you was needy, his breathing so heavy you were worried he would come from the sheer excitement of it all.

“On the bed or standing up?” you asked. “Where do you want me?”

It was a simple question, but he couldn’t answer it. If you had your phones in front of you, no doubt Haechan would fire off witty remarks about how he’d have you everywhere. The person before you now was incapable of making a decision, so you made it for him. You spun him around, walking him back into your bed until his knees hit the mattress and his body fell down into a sitting position. He looked up at you with wonder, his mouth parted slightly. You leaned down until your nipple touched his cupid's bow. Haechan opened his top lip wider and took you into his mouth, his eyes darkening as he watched your satisfied expression.

“You have a grip on me that no one else ever has,” you told him. “You little fuck.”

Using his chest, you pushed him back down onto your bed. He wasn’t done sucking on your nipples and doing so made him angry. He tried getting up to finish the job, but you pushed him back down again. His cockiness had returned, his smile baring teeth. Laying down, his cock sprang up and against his stomach. You could see the wetness highlighting his skin. Haechan brought his hands behind his head. You got onto the bed and straddled his thighs. When you took his cock in your hands, his body shivered, but he tried to play it off.

“There is nothing I want more than your cock in my mouth right now.” you said.

“Please.” he said.

“Are you begging?”

“No,” he said. “I would never beg. I’m giving you the option, since I know you want it. I know you want me badly. You’ve dreamed about this, about me. I see the way you look at me when I’m in the practice room, when I lift up my shirt to wipe the sweat from my face. I know you think about me every day.“

“You know too much for your own good.”

“I know,” he said, using that childish voice that always got under your skin. You stroked his cock and watched as he tried controlling his response.

“As I was saying,” you began. “I would love nothing more than to suck your cock, but we can’t do that, because you’ll come too soon.”

Haechan placed a hand over his chest. “You hurt my pride. I’m a man.”

“Exactly,” you said. “And there is nothing wrong with you coming, but I want the first time you come to be inside of me.”

Hearing those words made Haechan lean his head all the way back in utter bliss. His hands scrambled for you, his fingertips scratching down your stomach. You could feel him wanting to whine, to buck his hips up for more, to have your mouth around his cock any way he could. He was used to getting his way with others, but with you, it would be damn near impossible. You moved up his body a little, his cock still in your hands. You hovered over him, waiting to make eye contact. Until then, you would wait to fill yourself with him. When he didn’t give in right away, you stroked his cheek with your other hand so he would be forced. When his eyes finally met yours, the look he gave you was very fitting to his nickname: Devil. Before your arrangement, he had asked about contraceptives and how he wasn’t ready for pregnancy scares. You told him about your birth control and asked him if he wanted to wear condoms. Haechan declined. As you sunk down onto his cock, the raw feeling of him made you more excited.

“I’m going to move slow,” you said. “Okay?”

Haechan didn’t answer. He was overwhelmed by the feeling of being inside of you. He looked down at his cock having disappeared between your legs. When you started riding him as slowly as possible, he couldn’t keep his eyes from watching himself move in and out, in and out. He was moaning, the sounds coming from his mouth high-pitched and frequent enough to make his throat feel sore the next day. You rested your hands against his chest and moved up and down his cock so that he would get the full visual of how wet his shaft was after leaving your pussy.

“You feel good.” you told him.

It wasn’t a lie. Having him between your legs made you feel like you were in control, and you loved that feeling. Haechan looked at you like you were bringing every new sensation to him, a new world, and new emotions. Your body felt different than his own hand. The way you smelled, how you sounded as you rode him, and everything in between made his first time more special. Granted, you were faking a lot of it for his pleasure, but he didn’t need to know that. You focused on how he was feeling, knowing that at any moment he was going to explode. He was hanging on longer than you thought he would, which made you happy because it was possible that he would be ready for another round soon after.

“Haechan,” you moaned. “Haechan. Haechan. Haechan.”

You touched yourself. You flicked your hair over your shoulder. You pretended like his cock was giving you the best sex you ever had, and it worked in your favor. When you thought he would come, his body seizing, his face pulling ugly expressions, Haechan started moving your body off of him. You expected him to lay back and let you fuck him as you wished. You expected him to be thankful to you for giving him his first orgasm with another person, but you did not expect him to steal the lead. Haechan flipped you over until you were on your back, his cock having slipped out of you. For a moment, you laid on the bed in shock, and he moved over you in that same shock, his eyes unfocused. He rubbed his hands over his face and looked down at your body against the sheets. Your body felt empty without him, your pussy throbbing.

“Say my name again.” he grunted.

“Haechan.”

“No,” he said. “My real name.”

Haechan was on top of you, holding his body up so that you could see all of the muscles he never talked about. He was strong and young, and he was ready to fuck.

“Donghyuck,” you said. “Donghyuck. Donghyuck. Donghyuck.”

Haechan lifted your legs up until they were resting on either side of his shoulders. He squatted down low, his own legs bent, his ass hanging off the edge of the bed. You could see a bead of sweat working its way down his chest. He lifted your hips up a little before penetrating you again, his cock thrusting deeper and deeper. He didn’t last long in that position, and you didn’t orgasm, but you were so impressed that it didn’t matter. You watched him coming, his eyes closed, his body stiff and his hands grabbing onto yours, and you were spellbound by him. You wanted all of his cum inside of you, every last drop. You wanted it to fill you up until it dripped out of you, and then you wanted him to stuff his cock inside of you again, until you were the one begging him to say your name.

You jerked Haechan off while his balls were in your mouth. Stroking his length with your palm made the most joyous sounds come from his pretty lips. You sucked on his balls, your tongue soaking them. One of his hands was holding the back of your head, the other was rubbing his wet fingers against his nipples. You had his cock in your mouth a million times since the day you took his virginity, but it was always a delight seeing how wild he went when you surprised him with a slip of the tongue. You let his balls drop out of your mouth before licking a circle around his asshole. Haechan jumped a little, his head lifting up to glare at you.

“You have to warn me when you do that!” he said.

“I thought you liked it?”

“I do,” he said. “I just need to be prepared for it. P-R-E-P-A-R-E-D. Prepared.”

You shimmied your way back up between his legs so that you could suck on his cock instead. He was so handsome looking down at you, his starry eyes focused on the way you took his head past your lips.

“You’re so sexy.” he said.

“I know.” you said. You took his cock out of your mouth and licked the underside, your eyes never leaving his.

“Ayyyy,” he said. “Don’t get too cocky.”

You took him deeper into your mouth, in an attempt to make him come faster. He always lost himself when his cock hit the back of your throat. Each time you were together, it was your inside joke to see who would come the fastest. Most times, you easily won, but Haechan always put up a good fight.

“Baby, the things you do to me.” he whimpered.

The things you do. The things you had done. For weeks you’ve been fucking him, and it’s only getting started.

#haechan #nct #lee donghyuck #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #nct smut #lee donghyuck smut #lee haechan #lee haechan smut #nct fanfiction #haechan fanfiction #big thanks to the anon who asked about haechan and fwb relationships #also big thanks to the person who gave me confidence to write and post this #you know who you are

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atomicstrawbrys · 4 years

Text

Dead On Arrival

WOW i haven’t written in forever lmao, hopefully I still remember how!! I hope you enjoy the fic!! Please let me know if you did!!

Summary: Arthur and Alfred have a date. However, as Alfred finds himself unable to attend due to a rather...serious condition, it is up to Arthur to make sure they get to their dinner reservation on time. USUK.

Warnings: gross imagery, character death, violence

Words: 2583

Honestly, of all the times for Alfred to die, it had to be a few weeks before their big dinner date.

Arthur had made the reservation months in advance, as The Boathouse was always packed full of the rich and influential, and, hell, he’d just wanted to have one really nice date. Sure, he adored Alfred, and loved being with him no matter where they were, but he’d been looking forward to getting all fancy and renting a nice car for the night, to coming home late and getting pounded into the mattress before they would wake up and resume their normal lives.

And then Alfred got himself killed. A mugging gone wrong; they’d said. Alfred wasn’t even the intended victim, but he’d noticed the crime unfolding and had stepped in. The initial target had run away, but Alfred had not been so lucky. And oh, how his family wept. As did Arthur. He couldn’t even be considered a widower, as he had asked Alfred to prolong their engagement, putting off the wedding until they were secure enough to afford a decent house. How silly that seemed now- if he could go back, he’d have gone with Alfred to the courthouse the very day his fiancé had proposed.

And now, instead of planning a wedding, Arthur had planned a funeral. Closed casket, at his insistence. He didn’t want to see Alfred, a man who represented the very definition of life, reduced to a cold meat sack. They’d lowered his love into the ground, and, rather than a goodbye, Arthur departed with a ‘See you later, Darling.’ And, if he had anything to say about it, he would.

On the day of their date, Arthur rolled up to the cemetery in the rose gold Ferrari they’d reserved for the occasion. He stepped out in his crushed velvet suit, checking his watch. He had a little less than an hour before they had to be at The Boathouse. If they were even a minute late, they’d lose their reservation, so he did hope this would be quick.

Opening the passenger side door, Arthur retrieved a weathered tome from on top of the seat. He’d had this particular book of magicks for a while now, though before Alfred’s death, he’d never intended on getting involved in necromancy. Well. Maybe only a little, but still. The tome itself felt odd in his hands- it was bound with some type of animal skin, but not like anything he’d ever felt. He had plenty of old books, but this didn’t feel like any of the others...it also had this weird, fleshy color that wasn’t too far off from his own, and- Nope. Nope, that train of thought had gone far enough. Whatever the book was made out of, he didn’t make it, so it wasn’t his problem. He flipped through the pages of the tome as he walked through the graveyard, stepping over and around the headstones of those he was much less attached to.

When he arrived at Alfred’s grave -a nice little spot underneath the shade of a tree- Arthur took a moment to read the inscription on his headstone.

“Here lies Alfred Jones. Beloved Fiancé and Friend. Loved by all who knew him.” Beneath that were the dates that marked his birth and death, a short twenty-five years that seemed much too short for a man who loved life so much.

Before Arthur could contemplate on the tragedy further, he shook himself out of his thoughts and held up the ancient book. He read the page-long incantation labelled only ‘Reanimation.’ Once he’d read it through a few times, he set the book down in the grass, leaving his hands free.

As he chanted, Arthur took out his pocketknife, bringing it up to his hand. The blood of the living to awaken the body of the dead, that was the exchange. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to slice his palm, despite what was often shown in movies. Instead, he nicked the side of his wrist, letting crimson droplets sprinkle the freshly tilled earth of Alfred’s grave. With a final flourish, he wiped his wrist across Alfred’s headstone, the grey inscription now painted red. Then, he waited. Forty-five minutes until their reservation- Alfred had better be quick about this ‘coming back to life’ business.

For a moment, nothing happened. Arthur had been beginning to lose hope, beginning to wonder if the Definitely-Not-Human-Skin tome had been little more than a cheap Halloween decoration. But then, the earth beneath him shifted. There was something shifting around down there, or, rather, someone.

A hand burst through the dirt, clawing desperately towards the sky. Arthur, recognizing the engagement ring on Alfred’s finger, lunged forward and grasped his palm in both his hands. He pulled as hard as he could, the hand eventually giving way to an arm, and then a shoulder, and finally, to the rest of Alfred.

At first, Arthur could just stare. Alfred’s body, once decomposing, slowly began to knit itself back together until he looked, well, sort of normal. Alfred just stared back at him, light blue slowly pouring back into his milky white eyes. They weren’t as clear or brilliant as before, sure, but Arthur didn’t mind in the slightest. Alfred always looked perfect, even as maggots wriggled in the flesh of his crudely reconstructed body.

“Baaaaaaaaabe?” He rumbled, his voice garbled and slurred. Arthur could only laugh then, pulling his fiancé into a hug.

“Oh, Alfred, it’s so good to see you! Ha, don’t you bite me, now, I’ll not be responsible for some zombie apocalypse.”

“Ha. Ha.” Alfred’s raspy voice replied, jerking an arm up to Arthur’s back to give him a squeeze. “Missed...you. Sorry…”

“Hush, Alfred, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.” Arthur blinked quickly, shaking his head. He’d known the moment Alfred died that he would be bringing him back, but still, having the weeks without him...Arthur never wanted to do that again. And now that Alfred was back... it was a good feeling. “We do have a dinner reservation in like half an hour, though, so we’d better get going. It’s a good thing you’re already in your best suit.” He leaned back, pressing a kiss to Alfred’s cheek. Alfred’s lips twitched into something that resembled a smile.

As they pulled up to The Boathouse, Arthur slipped out of the passenger side. Alfred’s parking job was crooked as all hell, but it still wasn’t the worst he’d ever done. Perhaps it had been a mistake to put Alfred behind the wheel, but Arthur didn’t really like to drive, and besides, Alfred had geeked out once he saw the rented vehicle. He’d run up to the driver’s side as quickly as he could manage, which, to be fair, wasn’t very fast for the time being. Rigor mortis was not being kind to Alfred for the moment, and all his movements were jerky and stiff. It might ease up over the course of the night, but, even if it didn’t, Arthur found the way he moved to be absolutely fascinating.

Walking up to the restaurant with Alfred, Arthur held on to his fiancé’s hand, giving him a smirk. “I think I shall drive on the way back, Love. As much as I’d prefer not to, I’m a little worried that if I let you, I shall have to reanimate someone else before the night is out.”

“Boooo.” Alfred groaned in response. Arthur’s smile only widened.

The hostess of the restaurant seemed rather uneasy as she sat the two of them down at their table. Why, Arthur couldn’t begin to fathom. Even their waiter made little more than fleeting eye contact with them, practically throwing their menus to avoid stepping close to the table. Arthur just gave him a polite nod, opening it up and looking over the options.

“Well, I think I shall be getting the Lobster Thermidor. And you, Darling?”

Alfred grinned then, a little more easily. He waggled his eyebrows.

“Braaaaaaaaaaaaains.” He snickered, and Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Oh, aren’t you funny. I already told you, no one is starting an apocalypse tonight. We can talk about it in the morning.” Arthur’s lips twitched up into a grin.

Alfred smiled, and, rather than giving the wheezing chuckle Arthur expected, he started to laugh. Sure, it was deep and bone-chilling and almost definitely not of this world, but it was still Alfred’s laugh, and Arthur’s heart melted at the sound of it. Then, Alfred looked back at his menu.

“Seared scallop pasta...looks good.”

Arthur nodded, and, once the waiter returned, relayed their order back to him. The waiter, again, would not get anywhere near their table, but that was no matter. Even if Arthur did have to speak up a bit for the other man to hear him, as long as the order was taken, it was alright.

As they waited, Arthur looked at his fiancé, fiddling with his own engagement ring that Alfred had spent way too much on. Alfred’s gaze wandered now, cloudy blue eyes taking in the restaurant and its patrons. He was still Alfred; Arthur was sure of it. Sure, he was pallid, and his body was...misshapen in some places. Sure, there was a weird wet ooze that soaked the front of his suit. Sure, he walked like a doll without articulated joints, and sure, his voice sounded as if there was dirt in his lungs. And, sure, his chest did not have the rise and fall of breath, indicating that perhaps Alfred no longer needed to breathe at all. But he was his fiancé, and, had they gotten married, Arthur would have pledged to love him until death parted them. Hell, Arthur loved him so much that death had failed to part them.

Alfred’s eyes refocused on him, and he smiled. “ Arthur…” He clumsily jerked his hand across the table, taking Arthur’s warm palm into his cold one. “Love...ya.”

Arthur felt a warm, soft smile spread across his lips as he looked down at their hands. It had only been a few weeks since he’d lost Alfred in the first place, but he’d gone far too long without hearing his partner say that he loved him. He blinked back misty eyes and nodded.

“I love you too, Alfred. So very much.”

When their meals arrived, the waiter’s hands subtly trembled as he set their plates down. Arthur pretended not to notice. He also pretended not to notice the way Alfred tore into his food- like he was a barely contained animal with a crazed hunger that flashed in his eyes only momentarily. Still, when Alfred looked at him, his eyes contained only warmth and adoration, so Arthur decided he wouldn’t worry about it too much.

After dinner, Arthur paid their bill, and helped Alfred to his feet. They left the restaurant, Arthur hugging his fiancé’s arm and nuzzling against his shoulder. He was sure the staff was glad to have them out of the building, and, to be honest, Arthur was glad for the fresh air. Alfred didn’t exactly smell the best anymore, but it was nothing a bath and some cologne couldn’t have helped.

“Tonight was really nice, Al.” Arthur hummed, looking up at him. “I’m really glad we got to go out again. It’s...” His voice thickened. “It’s been really hard without you, you know.”

Alfred slid his arm up Arthur’s back with more grace than he’d possessed the entire night, and gently squeezed Arthur to his side. He pressed a clammy kiss to Arthur’s temple, his eyes sad and apologetic.

“I didn’t...wanna leave you.” He murmured, and Arthur nodded, rubbing his eyes with a closed fist.

“I know, Alfred. I know. And I don’t...blame you, for what happened. You tried to do what was right, and you probably saved a life in the process. I only wish you’d come out unscathed.”

They reached the car, and Arthur opened the passenger side for Alfred before he climbed behind the wheel. He smiled at him, and, as they drove, he held his hand across the console. They rode in silence- not uncomfortable, but not quite comfortable either. Arthur wondered where Alfred had gone after he died- if he’d gone anywhere at all. But although he knew Alfred could answer him, he didn’t ask. He wasn’t meant to know what happened to a human soul after death, and he was alright with leaving it a mystery. As long as Alfred was alright, that was all the information he needed to know.

As they pulled back up to the cemetery, Alfred sat up, looking confused.

“Here?” He looked at Arthur, tilting his head. “What about...home?”

Arthur parked the car and turned off the headlights. “I know, my Love. I wish you could come back with me, too. But...you can’t, we both know it. What is your family going to think if your grave is empty tomorrow? And besides- I’m a little worried about the effects of keeping you out here for too long.”

Alfred’s lips drew into a pout. “Wouldn’t bite anyone...” He crossed his arms, looking down at his lap.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. All the same, I think this is for the best.” Arthur got out of the car and went around to open the trunk. He pulled out a shovel and motioned for Alfred to follow. Reluctantly, Alfred obeyed, getting out and shuffling up the hill to the place he’d been buried.

“Right, then. In you go- according to the book I read, once you’re back in there, you’ll...you’ll fall asleep, and...you know. You’ll go back to wherever you were before I woke you.

Alfred looked down at the dark, damp hole, and shot his best puppy eyes at Arthur. Arthur crossed his arms and acted like he wasn’t affected, but they both knew it wasn’t true.

“Goodbye, Al. I’ll miss you.” He gave him a little smile, but his lip wobbled.

“I don’t wanna go.”

“I know.”

Alfred sat down at the edge of his grave, legs dangling as he stared down into it. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he started to ease himself back in.

“Ah, fuck,” Arthur murmured, shaking his head. “I’ll wake you up again next week, okay? We’ll stay in- we’ll order pizza and watch a movie. As long as you promise we’ll have you back in here before sunrise.”

With a surprising fluidity, Alfred shot up out of his grave and crushed Arthur to his chest in a hug.

“Okay! I love you!”

Chuckling, Arthur hugged him back, pressing a soft kiss to cold lips. “And I love you. Now, get back in there before I change my mind.”

Nodding, Alfred wasted no time in hopping down and lying in the splintered remains of his casket. He smiled up at Arthur and waved before he closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep.

It took almost an hour, but, shovelful by shovelful, Arthur filled Alfred’s grave back in. He finished it up with a resounding pat-pat, then “borrowed” a rose from a nearby tomb and placed it down at Alfred’s headstone. He pressed a kiss to his dirt-crusted fingertips, then pressed his fingertips to the cool stone.

“See you next week, my Love. Sleep well.”

And with that, Arthur hefted the shovel up onto his shoulder and headed down the hill, already thinking about what movies they’d watch on their next date.

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mrsbhandari · 4 years

Text

10 pm

a/n: hello!! this idea just popped into my head so I hope you enjoy it! i know i always love me some soft ethan ❤️

words: 2k

warnings: soft smut, nsfw

summary: It was 10 pm when he walked through the door of his apartment, his feet aching and his ears uncomfortable with the silence.

tagging(also i completely lost my tag list when i went mia so i apologize if i forgot to tag you): @anotherbeingsworld @theeccentricbibliophile @mvalentine

It was 10 pm when he walked through the door of his apartment, his feet aching and his ears uncomfortable with the silence. Dalia was supposed to be through with her own shift in half an hour, which meant she would be home in forty-five minutes. He ran through the timeline in his head and decided to wait twenty minutes for dinner, giving him twenty minutes to throw his bag down and take a quick shower to wash off the stress of the day. There was so much incompetent sandwhiched into his shift that he really felt the only way to get rid of it was to wash it all down the drain.

He was about 75% of the way through dinner when he heard her key in the door, Dalia’s face appearing for a flash just before shutting the door. Whenever she came home to him cooking, she would always say, “Mm! Smells good.”

“Mm! Smells good.” He smiled. “Hello, Chef Ramsey,” she teased, placing her own bag next to his. He smiled even bigger and looked towards her, grin bright as she started to take off her shoes.

“Hello,” was his simple greeting, more communicated in the single word than most can put in a ten minute speech. She soaked in the underlying layers and walked towards him, finally barefoot.

“How was work?”

“How is it that so much ineptitude can still exist in someone who went to school for eight years?”

She winced and placed a hand on his cheek. “That bad, huh?” He only hummed his response and leaned into her touch. “Well, I’m going to shower, so I’ll be right out, yeah?” He nodded and watched her go before turning back to the pasta.

When she returned, he’d made two bowls with a fork sticking out of each. She grabbed the bowl that said DR. RAMSEY across the front while he grabbed the one that said DR. BLAESE, each a Christmas gift from their coworkers that they had since switched after spending so much time at Ethan’s place. He watched her fondly as she hopped up on the counter to eat hers, playfully straightening her back since it made her just an inch taller than him.

“Haha!” she said, slurping down a forkful of noodles.

“You’re a real giant,” he deadpanned, gracefully eating his own food in stark contrast to her messy approach.

“Meanie.” He only offered a sly smile in response, eyeing her bare legs as she kicked them out childishly. He was always amazed at her optimism and how she hadn’t completely broken down at this point in her career after seeing so many horrible things. She always stood tall (but never taller than him) and rolled with the punches, turning them into opportunities at every turn. He must have been staring, because she cocked her head. “Ethan?”

“Hm?” He was pulled out of his thoughts by her concerned gaze, running over his eyes, his nose, his lips, his stubble before returning back to his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” he admitted, still feeling weighed down by the day. “But I feel better with you here.” He was trying to be more honest about his feelings lately, unwilling to live through any more misunderstandings or pining that came with him shutting Dalia out; he decided that he would write down every thought that crossed his mind for the rest of his life if he got to see the way her face lit up at his confession, a slight red forming on her cheeks at his unexpected straightforwardness concerning his emotions. She looked away and then back at him almost bashfully, as if she were confronting a boy she had a crush on instead of a man she was dating.

“Thank you.” Finished, they both placed their bowls in the sink and Ethan wrapped his arm around Dalia’s waist to help her down. She didn’t really need it, but the warmth of his skin on hers was something she couldn’t find within herself to reject. Dalia takes her place in front of the sink to wash, comfortable with Ethan’s elbow brushing hers as he dried each dish she handed off to him.

It was a routine that never had a set time with their erratic shift schedules, but the overall domesticity of it all still made Dalia’s heart beat faster in her chest. She was sure that she and Ethan were meant to be together, and she had no doubt that she would scream yes to the heavens if he asked her to marry him right then and there, but even without those thoughts swirling in her mind, she knew she was happy. Even if they didn’t get married or have kids or go through the normal path of life, she knew she was happy with coming home to a very sexy and very secretly sweet man cooking her dinner, and she knew she was happy with washing the dishes and flicking water on him to tease him.

“Hey!” he whined, his deep voice and tone mismatched. She let out a loud laugh and threw her head back, leaving herself vulnerable for his own spritz of water that he showered her with. It evolved into a mini water fight, both lovers giggling like school children on either side of their makeshift war, using washcloths and sponges to increase their damage. Finally, Dalia found a white rag and raised it high, waving it with two fingers.

“I surrender!”

Delighted, Ethan yelled victoriously, “The Ramsey Army prevails!” before sweeping her up in his arms, pressing his wet body to her own as he lifted her small frame. Used to the strength he loved to exhibit for her, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, locking her ankles to keep her steady despite knowing he would never let her fall. “What’s my reward?”

She knew what he wanted, but she still leaned back and tapped her chin. “Hmm…” Her long hum faltered when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “Seems you’re already taking it.”

“So you’re my reward?”

“Is it suitable?” She took his face in her hands and squeezed his cheeks once before letting him speak.

“Is it suitable? I believe this is the best reward I’ve ever received in my life.”

“Well, you’ve lived a long time; I wouldn’t go around saying hyperbolic things like that,” she teased, her joke prompting his fingers to dig into her sides. She squirmed and giggled, laughs reverberating in his ears and stored in his mind for later.

“Keep in mind that this old man is currently carrying you. Effortlessly, I might add.”

“You’re the one who brought up the ‘o’ word,” Dalia reminded, raising her palms and eyebrows. He quieted her with a soft kiss to her lips, easily moving against her as if he’d been doing it since the beginning of time. Honestly, that’s how he felt with Dalia; with her, time seemed to stretch and fly by at the same time, brought on by her quick wit and his praying for each moment with her to last forever. The kiss melted the tension in his shoulders and cleared his mind, and it quickly turned more and more passionate with each movement of her body against his.

“I want you, Dalia.”

“I’m yours to take, Ethan.” Each word wasn’t hurried or whispered; they knew they had all the time in the world that night. He hugged her closer without the urgency of a time constraint or the panic of being caught by a coworker. Tonight, it was just Ethan and Dalia together in an apartment, living for each other and stretching each moment ‘til it was a lifetime. He walked them both to the couch and sat heavily on it, relaxing immediately with her in his arms and pressed to him. He briefly pulled away from her and placed two thumbs on her cheeks, rubbing the hill of the bone there.

“I love you, Dalia.”

She offered a dopey smile that was all teeth, her mind hazy and drunk off his kisses. “I love you, too, Ethan.”

At 11:30 pm, he thrust up into her for the first time of the night but surely not the last. She was tight around him and he moaned at the feeling of how easily she swallowed his cock, her nails digging into his bare shoulders and her breasts perky in front of his face. He took advantage of his position and wrapped his mouth around the pretty bud, holding her bare back when she gasped.

He had always loved her back; the way her muscles would flex under her warm skin was so hypnotizing. He also was reminded of the many mornings he would wake up to her naked back facing him as she slept next to him, a firm reminder that even though she was turned away, it wasn’t because she was leaving.

Despite his fascination with the back of her body, he had to say that his favorite side was her front. Her features distort with the pleasure he was giving her; the firm flesh of her breasts in his hands and mouth; the way his cock slid in and out of her like they were made for each other. All of it was a testament to how she was real in his arms and around him and in front of him and everywhere, which is exactly where he wanted her to be.

He bit a trail of hickeys up the swell of her breast to her throat, biting the places he knew would make her yelp and wail. The moment he placed a thumb wet with his spit onto her clit, she was pushed over the edge with a moan of his name, sounding every bit divine as it reached his ears.

He looked up at her when she did cum, her eyes rolling back and her mouth wide to let the sounds fall unobstructed. She’d been good about that recently; she never used to be loud until he seemed to make it his personal mission to draw out the most sinful noises with just his fingers or mouth. He enjoyed being the one to collapse her to that state of complete and utter uncaringness of her din, instead being only focused on drawing out her pleasure because it, in turn, prolonged his.

“Dalia!” he groaned, fingers tightening on her hips as he drove his own up into her. She sat on his cock and ground down when he released into her, keeping him sheathed as he painted her walls white. She was shuddering and trembling with the feeling of being so full of him, resting her head on his shoulder to somehow be even closer than she already was. Her breath was hot on his neck and he clasped his hands behind her, just holding her as they both calmed down from their highs.

A hand came up to rub at his stubble, nails gently running over the coarse hair that covered the lower half of his face and gave him the rugged look she loved so much. She had teased him endlessly when he cut it after coming back from the Amazon since it had only taken a simple comment from her to get him to shave it down. Despite him swearing up and down that he wasn’t ‘whipped’ for her, they both knew it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Want to go to bed?”

“You’re so warm, though.” She shifted on him and he hummed, leaning his head on hers.

“I can stay inside.”

“We’ll be gross in the morning.” He grabbed her face in his hand and gently turned it to face him.

“All the more reason to shower together.”

She smiled, the picture slightly deformed because of her cheeks being held. “Dr. Ramsey, you are a genius.”

#ethan ramsey #playchoices #choices #fanfic #fanfiction #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart 2 #op1 #op2 #oph1 #oph 2

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psychosistr · 4 years

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Meet Me Halfway- Chapter 6

Summary: Liquidator wakes up with questions, answers, panic, and more questions.

Notes: Woohoo! First Liquidator POV chapter xD

-First Chapter-

The first thing Liquidator noticed when his consciousness returned to him was how much lighter he felt. Before, everything about his body had been heavy and immovable. Now, though, he felt light and free- the feelings he’d become accustomed to since his mutation into the living mass of liquid.

The second thing he noticed was the slightly heavier feeling of something contaminating his liquid in one area. Forming his eyes answered the question as to what that something was. He spotted some sludge on the far end of whatever vessel his body was currently being contained in. Hating the feeling of the crystal-clear body he took such pride in being contaminated by impurities, he focused and pulled the rest of his water out of and away from the sludge, leaving it pooled on its own on the far end of his container.

And the third thing he noticed was the feeling of something more solid resting idly in his water. Moving so that his recently formed eyes could look at the side of his container, he spotted a gloved hand at the end of a white-clothed sleeve dipping over the side of the vessel so that the arm lay on the rim and the covered fingertips skimmed his water.

Liquidator’s first thoughts on the situation were that he’d been given to some laboratory for testing after his defeat at the hands of “the terror that flaps in the night”. Well, he wasn’t some guinea pig for a bunch of no-necked shut-in’s to drool over as some sort of new scientific marvel for them to stick in a centrifuge!

With a bubbly growl to his voice, Liquidator gathered all of his water together and formed it into his familiar shape with a bit more bulk around the upper body to appear more intimidating and rose up out of his container. “Today’s special- a two-for-one beat down courtesy of the one and only LIQUIDATOR! Act now, supplies are limited!” To his surprise (and mild disappointment) his dramatic entrance and one-liner fell flat as the only other person in the small room was a lone man on the floor by his container. Further surprising and frustrating was the fact that his entrance garnered no reaction whatsoever from the seated scientist. With a frustrated scowl, he picked the scientist up by the front of his lab coat and glared into his goggle-covered eyes. “The surgeon general says ‘ignoring supervillains is detrimental to your health’, so you’d better-!”

His threat was interrupted by a groggy, tired sound finally leaving the previously silent masked man’s throat. “Ngh…” He lifted his head slightly, apparently just now realizing who was in front of him. “Buddy..?”

“!!” The familiar voice shocked Liquidator right out of his previous aggression, making him stare at the small scientist whose covered features were becoming increasingly familiar to him the longer he looked. “Reggie?” He reached up with one hand and removed the mask and goggles, revealing the duck’s familiar face to him. “Reggie, what’s going on?”

“Nmh..sta…a..tue..” Was the only coherent thing to leave the duck’s beak before his head flopped back down and his eyes shut.

“Reggie? Reggie!” Liquidator tried to gently shake the other man awake, but he didn’t stir in the slightest. With a slightly aggravated huff, he set the duck back down on the tiled floor.

Finally taking in his surroundings, Liquidator saw that he wasn’t actually in some laboratory- instead, he was in a small, sparsely decorated bathroom. What he had previously assumed to be some sort of container was actually just an old off-white bathtub. It was that odd combination of too nice to be a cheap motel bathroom but not nice enough to be some sort of corporate-owned building that lead him to the conclusion that he was in a cheap apartment complex- likely Bushroot’s home.

What stood out the most in the cramped room, however, were the buckets of what looked like improperly-mixed wet cement that had been set out around the other side of the tub and on top of the toilet. He noticed a glob of the same substance sitting in the tub that he’d just emerged from and figured that was probably what he felt mixed in with his body earlier.

While looking at the buckets, however, he noticed one of them that was closest to the tub’s opposite corner. Unlike the other buckets with their thick layers of sludge and sediment, this one contained a significantly clearer liquid. Out of curiosity, Liquidator placed the tip of his finger in the bucket and concentrated on reading its contents.

It was an interesting mixture: Hydrogen, oxygen, chlorine-

WAIT!

Those compounds together made-

“Reggie!” Liquidator turned back to the shorter man with an urgent tone to his voice and tried to shake him awake again, this time more roughly than he had before. “How long have you been inhaling this stuff?!”

Despite his shouting and shaking, the duck remained unconscious. Quietly cursing under his breath, Liquidator picked Bushroot up and carried him out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom. After setting Bushroot down on the bed, Liquidator got the only window in the room open with the hopes that it would draw in enough fresh air for his still flesh-and-blood friend.

“Sorry, but you’ll thank me for this later..” He said to the unconscious duck before he began to remove his clothes. The opened lab coat, shoes, and socks came off easy enough, but the buttons on the pants and shirt proved more of a challenge to the watery canine and his fluid fingers- the pieces of plastic slipping through and occasionally into his digits. “To heck with it- I’ll steal you some nicer clothes later..” Letting out another frustrated growl, Liquidator firmly grasped the sides of the shirt and tore it open, destroying many of the buttons in the process.

After repeating the process with the button on Bushroot’s pants, he gathered up the ruined clothing and the other articles he’d already taken off (he left the duck his modesty by keeping his underpants on- those would probably be the least contaminated) and hurried back into the bathroom.

Clearing the bathtub of the residual concrete, Liquidator summoned a strong flow of water from the bathtub’s faucet and left the clothes to soak in the clean water for the time being. While the clothes were being dealt with, he grabbed the troublesome bucket from earlier and carried it into the kitchen.

“Let’s hope you keep your cupboards stocked, Reggie..” Liquidator mumbled to himself while rummaging through the various cabinets and cupboards. After a moment, he found exactly what he was looking for. “Aha! Just what the doctor ordered! Well, what he WOULD order if he were awake.” He said while pulling out a box of baking soda.

The clever canine diligently dissolved the baking soda into the bucket of chemicals, going slowly as to not trigger any unfavorable reactions. Once the threatening concoction was properly neutralized, he let out a relieved sigh and walked back into the bedroom to check on the resting scientist.

Placing a hand on the duck’s forehead, Liquidator frowned at the unusually high amount of heat that he could feel seeping into his watery palm. “Oh Reggie, what have you done..?”

_______________________________________________________________

Bushroot didn’t wake up for several hours.

Liquidator did what he could to ensure the duck’s full recovery: Carefully washed the other man’s face repeatedly, taking great care to make sure the beak was fully cleansed of any lingering residue. Placed a cold hand on his forehead for twenty minutes once every hour to help keep his temperature down. And, with the aid of the adjoining bathroom’s faucet and some cleaned out buckets, used hot water combined with his own mastery of liquids to humidify the air and make sure the water molecules wouldn’t be blown away by the fresh air coming in through the window.

In between the time he spent taking care of the other man, Liquidator tried to keep himself busy with little things such as finishing the cleanup of Bushroot’s contaminated clothes and looking around the apartment. Unfortunately, cleaning up proved more entertaining than the option of looking around as the duck really didn’t have much available in the way of entertainment other than the television set in the living room. He managed to freeze one of his fingers long enough to turn the television on, but it was the time of day where nothing good was playing, anyway.

Returning to the bathroom to see if there was anything else he could do, Liquidator noticed something he’d missed before- a notebook and a set of tools sitting on the back of the toilet. Out of curiosity and boredom, Liquidator froze one of his fingers again and used it to flick through the pages of the notebook.

It seemed to be a scientific journal used for making observation notes on various types of plants. As he got closer to the more recent pages, though, the notes changed from plant-based biological observations to chemical formulas and theories. There was a crude drawing of Liquidator himself featured on one of the pages with the basic formula for cement written off to the side. After that were pages upon pages of notes and formulas, many of which was scribbled over and/or re-written with arrows drawn from one side of the page to the other to suggest a possible link between solutions. Judging by the amount of writing, Bushroot must have spent several hours trying to figure out a way to separate Liquidator from his stone prison.

As Liquidator glanced at the numerous buckets of concrete sludge that still filled the small bathroom, he realized that it must have taken several more hours actually getting him out the cement…

Closing the book once again, Liquidator’s eyes drifted over to the tools that had been lying next to it- a hammer and a chisel.

“Glad I wasn’t awake to feel THAT..” He commented while picking up the chisel and looking at the normally flat-edged implement that had been significantly dulled by going above and beyond to fulfill its purpose.

With a shake of his head, Liquidator set the tool back down and wandered back into the bedroom to check on Bushroot for what felt like the fiftieth time. In the process of doing so, he noticed something he’d missed before while undressing the duck and treating him- his gloves were still on. Honestly, they’d been very low on his priority-driven radar that he hadn’t even noticed they were there.

“Might as well get rid of those, too..” He flowed over to the bed and began carefully peeling the first rubber-covering off of the dozing doctor’s digits. Getting them off, however, revealed something else he’d failed to notice before: Blood. “!!” Liquidator’s eyes widened in momentary panic as he tossed the glove aside and moved Bushroot’s hand to get a better view of it. “Did you get that stuff in your gloves?!!”

After rinsing the other man’s hand off, the supervillain was relieved to see that the wounds weren’t from chemical burns. No, they were simply blisters, most likely from the hours he spent breaking the stone apart with the hammer and chisel, that had burst and bled into the glove. Removing its twin revealed similar blisters on Bushroot’s other hand that made Liquidator frown.

‘Why would you go this far?’ Liquidator wondered not for the first time that day, silently taking both of Bushroot’s hands in his own and submerging the blisters in his cool water to ease their pain.

People were inherently greedy and selfish- that was the law of the world that he, as Bud Flood, had long come to accept in life. No one did anything without expecting something in return.

Parents raised their children and gave them what they needed to survive. The “good” ones went even further and have their children things they didn’t need but merely wanted to make them happy. They encouraged and/or pushed their children to do well in school and find good jobs as adults so they would be financially stable. This was all just training and compensation, though, so that the parents could cash in on their children’s success and finances and have someone to either take care of them or pay to have someone else take care of them when they were too feeble to do so themselves anymore.

At work, people would be polite and genial to their coworkers and superiors, offering to do tasks that went above their assigned responsibilities for the sake of appearing helpful. They were all just trying to make themselves look better, though- they all secretly wanted to get on the good side of the higher-ups so they could get benefits like being considered first for promotions or raises. As soon as someone got in their way- someone better at pretending to be nice or who seemed more intelligent or talented- you’d see their true colors come out as they worked to sabotage the competition without getting caught. Who cares if it ruins someone’s life? All that matters is climbing the corporate ladder to the top.

Even romance, the ultimate, life-defining source of happiness according to so many people, came with a price. Falling in love was supposed to be a grand thing, a way to find someone else to spend your life with- someone to share your happiness with and lean on in times of hardship- that so called “missing piece” of yourself. In the end, though, all anyone really gets is extra emotional baggage from dealing with your own problems as well as someone else’s in exchange for the rights to say “Look, I’m in a relationship with that person- I’m normal!” and feel included for once. Eventually the high of happiness and romance fades and, when you realize you’ve condemned yourself to being with someone whom you have almost nothing in common with, you either kill your soul with the constant fights caused by bitterness and despair for the sake of “making it work” or you play heartbreak-russian-roulette to see who’ll pull the trigger first and end the pain for all parties involved.

Everybody always wanted something from him, that’s what Bud Flood had come to expect. It was why he’d worked so hard maintaining his double-life: To the public, he was a good, honest man who cared about the safety of his customers and put their needs first, making him seem kind and approachable. Behind closed doors, he was a ruthless, tyrannical businessman who would doom whomever he needed to just to get ahead in life.

After all, anyone else would do the same if they could, right? They would act kind and friendly to make him lower his guard, then wait for the chance to take something from him- his money, his success, his heart- you name it. In the end, it would happen one way or another..

………

So why was he wasting so much time with this meek, anxiety-prone, attention-starved, blabber-mouth of a scientist who wasn’t even THAT attractive?

If he had to pick a reason, it was probably because the duck was so transparent and straight-forward that he was easy for Liquidator to understand and predict. Bushroot was lonely, eager for attention and companionship, and honest to a fault (the guy probably couldn’t lie to save his own life). In a situation that came down to “take advantage or be taken advantage of”, Bushroot was much more likely to be the one taken advantage of since he would bend over backwards for the supervillain’s approval. He was simple and plain and far from complex.

At least, that’s how it had started out…

While the scientist was still very obviously desperate for attention and approval, Liquidator had to admit to himself that there were things about him that were less predictable than he originally thought. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought the bird would go as far as he did to free him from his concrete prison- to expose himself to dangerous chemicals and spend who knows how long breaking his solidified body apart just to set him free. Sure, they’d built some form of casual friendship since they’d met in the greenhouse, but they’d only known each other for a couple weeks! Liquidator doubted anyone else in his former life, people he’d known for years, would have gone so far to help him..

Would Bushroot want anything in return for his help? A slice of the profit from Liquidator’s next scheme? Reimbursement for his time and services? He could ask for just about anything-

“L…Liqui…?” A tired voice asked him from the bed.

Looking down at the small scientist’s face, Liquidator saw a pair of barely open blue eyes looking in his direction. Bushroot still looked exhausted and a bit out of it, barely keeping his focus on the water-dog’s general direction for more than a second before he had to jerk his drifting eyes back in place. He’d likely need some more rest before he could be trusted on his own again.

“The one and only- sometimes imitated, but never bested!” Liquidator joked with a grin, moving one hand up to touch Bushroot’s head and check his temperature. “So, how is Saint Canard’s number one criminal-aiding scientist feeling?”

“Dizzy…tired..” He mumbled before giving Liquidator a tired smile. “And..happy…you’re here..”

“……” Liquidator was tempted to ask his questions now, but he bit his tongue and used the hand still on Bushroot’s forehead to gently touch the side of his face. “Thanks to you..” His earlier grin softened slightly as he spoke. “Now, get some more rest- doctor’s orders.”

“Not a doctor..” The still sleepy duck replied before his eyes drifted closed of their own accord and he fell back asleep.

Liquidator’s smile fell slightly once the duck’s eyes were shut once more, leaving him alone with his thoughts again. Part of him still wanted to know what Bushroot expected to get for helping him. Part of him had a feeling he already knew the answer. And a third, smaller part of him told him what he WANTED the answer to be…

He took the hand he was still holding and brought it to his lips, giving it a light kiss. “Sleep easy, Reggie- you’ve earned it..”

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes: For reference, the compound that Bushroot was working with was a type of hydrochloric acid: Not only is it dangerous to get it on your skin, it's also dangerous to inhale for lengthy periods of time, hence Liquidator's panic when he realized what it was.

To treat it properly, you should ALWAYS go to a hospital. Since Liquidator's a wanted felon, however, he did everything else you're supposed to do to help people who've inhaled the fumes for too long: Remove them from the area, get them plenty of fresh air, remove any clothing that may have been exposed to the fumes as well so they don't continue to inhale them, and, ideally, repeatedly wash their face and body off to make sure there's no lingering residue for them to inhale later before having them breathe in humidified air to flush everything out of their lungs.

Now, having said this, I am NOT a doctor or a chemist, so please just contact 911 if you're ever exposed to these chemicals!

#darkwing duck #dwd #bushroot #liquidator #liquiroot #meet me halfway

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write-like-you-mean-it · 4 years

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A Teacher’s Job is Never Done: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU

The early morning shift at the No Doze Cafe always seemed to bring an array of variety of characters. Usually there are the sleepless, shy students that come to the cafe to get a quick drink and bite to eat. Sometimes there’s the brute businessmen who down three cups of coffee before they finally get off the phone. But my personal favorite are the exhausted teachers who stop by to get a quick coffee before sitting down to grade. Our shop is located near a preparatory school for school aged children.

If I was being honest, morning was my favorite time of the day which always made the morning shift the best. Today, the gods decided to create a deluge of thunderstorms. I found myself covered in wet rain splotches as I entered the key into the door. I was the morning shift leader so I had to be there early enough to start heating up cold pastries or make fresh vats of coffee.

My wet hair clung to my neck. It would be an unholy mess come the next few hours. Once inside, I praised the heat from the furnace in the corner. Carrie must’ve stocked some of the inventory early this morning or the heater would not be on today. Before starting on getting things ready, I dried off my shaking body by the fire. My body temperature finally increased until I wasn’t shaking anymore.

A knock at the door took me away from the furnace. I turn to see a group of high schoolers trying to get into the cafe. I rolled my eyes, put my hair back, and went to fix a vat of coffee. After a few more incessant knocks at the door, I went to turn on the open sign.

“Finally!” cried the group of drenched high schoolers. There were a few more cheers of adulation until they walked to the same furnace I was at only a moment ago. “I thought you weren’t going to open the door for us Ms.,” said one of the older ones. “The rain started to pick up.”

“You’re lucky that I even opened the door for all of you,” I joke while walking behind the bar. “I could’ve let you soak.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” joked one of the girls called Harper. “We’re your best customers.” I roll my eyes knowing that they were right. These teens were our bread and butter of the business. Most of their studying took place at this cafe rather than anywhere else.

The timer on the vat of coffee dings to signal its done. I grab the pot before placing it on the counter. One of the students comes up to ask for a black coffee. “Good thing I just made some,” I smile.

The front door swings open to see another one of the regulars. “Good morning Sensei,” said Eichi, the youngest of the group. He helped out with the elementary schools after his high school classes were done for the day.

“Good morning, Eichi,” said the light-grey haired man. “Are you going to stop by the school on your walk home today? The kids keep asking when the ‘pretty high school boy’ is coming back.” A slight blush was on the cheeks of the younger boy.

A few of the girls teased their friend as they went back to talking about classwork for the day.

The teacher walked over to the counter. He placed his large messenger bag on the counter before shaking off some of the rain from his hair.

“Hey, don’t get our system wet.” It was a jest by myself as I wiped off any extra water from the till. “You know I’d have to take it out of my paycheck.”

“You and I both know that Carrie wouldn’t do that,” he said. “She may tell me to take it out of mine but that’s a whole different story.” I could’ve sworn the room became brighter when he smiled. I mirrored him as I put in his normal black coffee with 2 pumps of vanilla.

“How are the children, Sugawara?” I ask while going to pump the vanilla. He reaches into the bag, pulls out some cash, hands over the three dollars and places it on the counter.

“I thought I told you to call me Suga,” he said while adjusting the messenger bag back on his shoulder. When I didn’t respond, he continued. “They’re doing alright. Testing season is coming so they're all a little worried.”

“I still can’t believe they test your little third graders. I feel like they should push it back a little. Let the kids be kids.” I pick up his coffee and hand it to him. “There you go. One coffee with two shots of vanilla.”

“Thanks,” Suga said. A few of the teenagers started whispering quietly while giggling. We turn our attention towards them. Their conversation stops only for a second before returning quiet whispers. I turn my attention back to the regular.

“So, Suga.” His name feels nice on my tongue. “Are you going to stay for a while or do you have some meeting at school?”

Suga adjusted his bag as it started to fall. Our eyes meet once again. A small blush fell on my cheeks which made me turn away. “I can stay for a little while. Our staff meeting doesn’t start for another twenty minutes.”

“Oh don’t stay on my regard,” I say while watching one of the girls jokingly hit Eichi. “I don’t want to keep you from your job. Your kids would be nothing without you.”

“No. I can stay.” Suga took off his coat and messenger back. “As long as I could get another coffee to go then I’ll be alright.” He places his bag back onto the bar and takes a seat at one of the bar stools overlooking where we make our coffee.

A couple of the girls giggle until Suga looks over his shoulder once again. The girls suddenly turn away. “I think they’re talking about us,” I comment.

“I was thinking the same thing,” he responded. “I bet they think we can’t hear them.”

I roll my eyes before starting another pot of coffee. It was getting to be later in the morning and a few more students were going to join the crowd soon enough. “I wonder what they would be discussing.” My voice was loud enough for them to hear. Suga only chuckled before pulling out some papers. He always had papers to grade.

“Oh you know Ms,” said the tallest and most abrasive of the boys in the group: Kisho. He was a troublemaker at school but great at comedy nights. My only response was to shake my head. A few of the outcasts of the group order some drinks for the road. The high school would be starting soon.

“Bye Ms. and Sensei,” called Harper.

“You two should kiss already,” Kisho calls before running out the door.

“Kisho!” exclaims one of the girls before chasing after him.

“Teenagers,” I groan. Grabbing a rag, I clean off any surface the teens may have touched.

“They’re right though,” commented Suga. I hadn’t realized he got out of his chair and followed me to the furnace. “Huh?” I questioned. “Maybe not the kissing part yet, but I’d love a date with you.”

I turn and stand only to be face-to-face with his hazel eyes. I stutter out a “a date with me?”

“Yes,” he shrugged while moving a small piece of damp hair from my face. “I can pick you up after school.”

“Oh.” Pink blush was on both our cheeks. “I’d love to Suga.”

“Suga or Koshi. You can say whichever you’d like.” Our faces were only inches apart. He rested his hand on my face. I’d be easy to lean into any touch he’d give but I only smiled as he pulled away.

“Koshi. I like it.”

An alarm goes off in his bag. I watch as he checks the alarm and quickly picks up the phone. It must’ve been something at the school because Suga shoved the papers into the bag before heading to the door.

Before leaving, he puts the phone to his chest, smiles at me and says, “I’ll see you after school.”

Haikyuu Masterlist

(This series is a choose your own adventure. Pick your favorite man or all of them. I will try to make as many of them as possible with continuations. So far, there is Oikawa, Sugawara, Tuskishima, Kageyama, Hinata, and Akaashi. If you have a suggestion or comment, please message me!!)

The date can be found here!

#sugawara #suga #sugawara x you #sugawara x reader #hq #haikyuu #one-shot #coffee shop au

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imaginepirates · 4 years

Text

Twenty-First Century

A fic for @tiny--spock about James getting stuck in modern times. I decided to include a little personal stuff, like the setting of the story. I lived next to Seattle for a while (I don’t anymore), but I loved it. Forgive me this indulgence.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @wordsinwinters

~3150 words

~~~~~~~

The rain flowed over your umbrella in rivulettes, dropping off the edges to plunk onto the ground. It was a peaceful rain, but cold, so there were few people outside. You made your way to the bus stop, returning from the library. The forecast predicted rain for the next few days. You figured it was as good a time as any to pick up the books you’d been meaning to read.

You picked out a lone figure at the end of the street. You might not have given him a second glance, but he had no umbrella. It rained often where you lived; everyone knew to keep an umbrella on them. You watched him turn around a couple of times, looking hopelessly lost. You’d have to pass him, and figured you might as well take him to the covered area of the bus stop. He was probably soaked already, and your effort would make no difference, but you figured it was the thought that counted.

As you drew closer, you noticed his strange clothing. From a distance, his long coat hadn’t been out of the ordinary, but up close, you could see the brass buttons and golden epaulettes. His pants, too, looked more like breeches out of a Jane Austen novel than anything someone would normally wear.

He paid you no mind, hardly noticing your approach. It was only when you were directly next to him that he seemed to see you.

“Would you like to share my umbrella?” You asked. “There’s a covered space not far from here, if you’d like me to…” Your words died in your throat as the man turned to you.

“I’d appreciate it.” He gave you a tight smile that you were only used to seeing from the screen of a TV. “Thank you.”

You wondered for a moment if you’d slipped and hit your head, and if you were trapped in some sort of hallucination. It would explain a lot. Otherwise, you had a fictional character standing right next to you. You almost pinched yourself, but thought it might be rude, so you decided against it. You reminded yourself at the last minute not to stare.

In a daze, you held up your umbrella, sharing it with him. Then you turned and walked to the bus stop, thankful your feet had memorized the way. This is fine, you thought. I’m just going crazy, is all.

You weren’t sure if you should be thankful for the emptiness of the bus stop or not. With nobody there, you had to try talking to your companion.

Thankfully, he started the conversation for you. “I’m afraid I’m a bit lost.” The look of embarrassed confusion on his face made him look, to you, a little like a lost puppy.

“I’d say that’s probably true, Mr…” You let him fill in the blank. It would probably be creepy if you told him you already knew who he was.

“Norrington.”

“Where are you looking to go?”

Norrington looked around, staring at the streets and buildings. “I’m not quite sure, if truth be told. Ah, perhaps it might help me to know where exactly I am?”

The look of mortification on his face was complemented by the awkwardness on yours. “You’re in Seattle, Washington.”

“Right,” he said, though he clearly had no concept of where either Seattle, nor Washington, was.

Oh god, you thought. America wasn’t even around in his time-period. We were still a colony. “And,” you continued, “if it would interest you, we’re in the twenty-first century.”

You were sure you’d never seen a person so pale before. He looked, for a frightening moment, like he was going to be sick.

The bus pulled into view, catching the attention of both of you. James looked confused, and might have asked you what a bus was if you hadn’t spoken first.

“If anyone asks, we were at a convention,” you said. This earned you another look, but you pulled Norrington onto the bus before he could ask.

The bus had blissfully few people in it, and nobody gave you or Norrington a second glance. This was Seattle, after all. It was best not to wonder, sometimes. With nobody talking to you, you and James sat next to each other in awkward silence, dripping little puddles of water onto the floor.

You led him off at your stop, hurrying him to your apartment before your neighbors could see you with a strange man. It was difficult to keep the umbrella in the right place; James was considerably taller than you were, and it proved hard not to hit the top of his head. You struggled with your ring of keys for a moment, desperately trying to find the one to your apartment as quickly as possible. Once inside, you ushered him in and shut the door firmly behind you.

You stared at him blankly before remembering any sort of hospitality. The rules had changed since his age, and you hoped taking his coat and hanging it in a closet would be close enough to what he was used to.

This still meant that you had a dripping wet man in your house who probably wouldn’t dry out very soon. Wordlessly, you led him to the bathroom, handing him a towel. He understood well enough, so you stepped out to give him some privacy. Then, you realized that you had no clothes for him to change into. Damn.

By a miracle of god, or whatever divine power was out there (most people in Seattle considered Bigfoot the local deity), you found a sweatshirt and pants your dad had left at your apartment ages ago. You’d stuffed them in the back of your closet, a gift to the void, and had thoroughly forgotten about them.

You knocked on the door to the bathroom, told James you were setting some clothes outside, and you made your way to the kitchen, where you decided to wait. Then, you pinched yourself for real. This is a character from a movie. I’ve read fanfiction about him! It was an awful realization. You’d read lots of things about him, and held discourse over his character. You’d fantasized about him, even. I. Am. Insane. It’s official.

You were torn from your thoughts by James entering the room. The pants were a little short, but the sweatshirt seemed to fit, which you were thankful for. He looked awkward, standing in the doorway, and you motioned for him to sit.

“Hungry?” You asked. Even if he wasn’t, food was a great way to hide awkwardness, so you would make some anyway. You ended up making bagels, and James nearly fell out of his chair when the toaster went off. You had to smile at that; it was too cute not to.

You both hid behind your food, and you observed the surprised look of someone who had just discovered refrigerated cream cheese. When you were done eating, you set the dishes in the sink. You and James made awkward eye contact, and you couldn’t help but ask what was on your mind.

“How did you end up here?” You asked. In the movies, he had died, of course, so how he ended up by your bus stop baffled you.

“I don’t particularly know, actually. There was a hurricane, and I was knocked unconscious, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the rain.”

“Right.” That solves that, then. The hurricane James had chased Jack through somehow transported him here, to you. “We’ll find a way to get you back home.” You had no idea how, though. The chances of your being able to return him to his own universe were next to zero. You just didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“While you’re stuck here, though, we have to set some rules,” you continued. “I have a job. I’ll be gone for most of the day. If you leave the apartment, people are going to notice that you’re… a little odd. You’re going to have to stay inside.” You showed him the pantry, and all the things he could make for himself for food. “I’ll teach you to use the stove later,” you promised.

You showed him around, teaching him how to work things. He was fascinated by the most basic appliances; he switched the lights on and off a few times before believing they were real.

“You’ve come a long way.” He looked around in awe. The shower, the stove, and electricity were all new to him. “I wish we had some of this where I came from.”

You wished he had more clothes. You vowed to find some the next day.

There was the dilemma of sleeping arrangements. You lived by yourself, and thus owned one bed. You had a couch, but you figured it would be rude to offer it to him. You found yourself throwing out the awkward suggestion of sleeping together. Norrington looked appalled.

“I can build a wall of pillows between us,” you suggested half-heartedly. “Though I’m afraid the bed might be too small for that.”

Though James insisted that he sleep on the floor, you finally managed to convince him otherwise. You found your back pressed against his, hardly daring to breathe. You both lay perfectly still, trying not to disturb the other. You could feel the heat of his back through the T-shirt you were wearing to bed. No doubt he could feel you just as acutely.

When you woke, you were stiff as a board. You hadn’t changed positions all night. Neither, as it seemed, had James. He was just as stiff, and looked just as tired, too.

“Good morning,” you said, rolling over.

“Morning.” He had rolled onto his side, too, so you were facing each other. He blushed a little, being so close to you, and you found yourself doing the same.

You introduced him to cereal not long after, and left him with a few books to choose from to keep himself occupied while you were away. You had to work, and you figured books would keep him entertained.

The day was made longer with the knowledge that James was waiting for you at home. You worried about him; everything was new to him, and you hoped curiosity wouldn’t get the better of him. You doubted it would, knowing how he was, but you couldn’t help the feeling that someone would see him, even if just through the window.

Stopping by a store, you picked up some clothes on your way home. James needed more to wear than the single outfit your dad had left behind. You managed to get some variance, trying to appeal to a style that James might like, though you had no idea what he’d think of modern clothes.

You came home to your neighbor, and elderly lady, watering the small potted plants at your doorstep. She smiled and straightened up as you walked by. “That’s a nice young man you have in there! I think you’d better keep him,” she said cheekily.

You couldn’t help your blush, and you fumbled for words, nearly dropping the stack of clothes you carried. “You met him?”

“Oh, he came out to help me water the hanging baskets. You know I can’t reach them well anymore.” She waved a hand dismissively. “That boy saw me through the window and came out to help me.”

“How nice of him.” You were internally mortified, but you tried keeping that to yourself. You only hoped the woman hadn’t told any of your other neighbors about James.

You pushed the door to your apartment open with a hip. James awaited you inside, sitting on the couch with a book in hand, a glass of water on the little table next to him. He looked up, smiling softly. “Literature has changed.”

He was reading Dickens. It’s changed a lot more than that. “And are you enjoying it?”

“Immensely. I love Shakespeare, but I can only read a play so many times.” He set the book down, stood, and offered to take the clothes from you. “Although, I’m afraid I don’t know the background to these books. I take it that the people of France were unhappy with the government?”

“Are you reading A Tale of Two Cities?”

“I am.”

“You are correct. France spent too much money supporting other countries; it finally couldn’t support itself.”

“Ah.”

He set the clothes on the table. They were in bags, and you told him to peek through them to see what he liked. He thanked you as you prepared to make dinner. “I hear you met my neighbor today,” you said.

“I did. A nice woman, though she asked a few questions I didn’t understand.”

Of course. “And they were?”

“She asked if we were ‘dating’, though I was unfamiliar with the term.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I said I was unsure.”

You tried to stifle a laugh and failed. Glancing over your shoulder, you found James looking uneasy. “You might have given her the wrong idea of our relationship. Don’t be surprised if she tries convincing you to ask me out.”

He blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know….”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What is dating, exactly? And she said something about a needle from space.”

You saw that your evening would be full of explaining. “Dating is quite a lot like courting, where you come from, but it’s less formal. Typically, a person dates multiple people before finding the person they’re going to marry.” James understood that, at least. “The Space Needle is a building downtown. It’s a quirky part of Seattle, and a good place for going on dates. Probably why she mentioned it.”

James continued to look flustered as you cooked. You finished and set the table, eating in awkward silence. James seemed to enjoy his meal, which resolved some of your anxiety.

“I can show you around tomorrow after work,” you offered. “Seattle is lovely. There’s a lot here, but I can give you the general tour.”

“I think I’d enjoy that, thank you.”

When you arrived home the next day after a long day of work, you found James trying to communicate with your Alexa. He was failing horribly, and you couldn’t help but laugh. He tapped it to see if it would turn on.

“Having trouble?” You asked.

“It started talking earlier. I was a bit afraid to touch the buttons, in case they did something odd,” he admitted.

“Don’t worry. Alexa,” you called out, “play Vivaldi.”

James took in a startled breath as the music started. He stared down at the device in fascination, and you explained how it worked.

“Brilliant,” he said.

You took him out to the car. As awful as it was to drive in Seattle, you didn’t live far from the downtown area, so it would be easy enough to get around. You climbed into the car, motioning for James to do the same. He braced himself against the dashboard when you started pulling out of your parking spot.

“Think of it as a carriage with no horses.”

He nodded, looking around at the car’s interior. He changed his focus to the surrounding area. Skyscrapers surrounded you as you drove into the city, some made almost entirely from glass. Advertisements were plastered across the fronts of buildings, and trees dotted the sidewalks next to you. Eventually, you came into view of the Space Needle, towering six hundred feet above you. James stared out the window like a child, enraptured. You thought it was adorable.

You parked and walked around the space beneath the structure. The Space Needle looked a little like the Eiffel Tower, with three legs holding up a disc that sat at the top. A central scaffolding acted as an elevator shaft. The top held an observation deck from which a person could see the entire city. You thought of taking James up, but decided against it. No doubt it would scare him; it had scared you the first time you’d gone up.

Instead, you took him down to the waterfront, a bustling area with lots to see. A giant ferris wheel was decked out in neon lights of all different colors. James gaped at the massive cargo ships passing by. A hundred shops dotted the piers, and the two of you windowshopped as you walked.

You eventually grabbed a bite to eat in the public market. It was always full of people, and food of every sort could be found within its multiple levels. You settled on crepes, which James was vaguely familiar with. After dinner, you pulled out a package of gum, handing a piece to James.

“Chew it,” you told him.

Tentatively, he popped it in his mouth, chewing for a moment. “What exactly is the purpose of this?”

“Enjoyment. But there’s a reason I gave it to you. You’ll see.” You led him out of the market and up into the street. A few blocks later, you found yourself at your destination. The alley was narrow, and there was seemingly nothing special about. At first glance, it looked like any other; brick walls, cobbles, and papers advertising a thousand different events plastered across the walls.

As you walked to the end of the alley, the popularity of the spot became evident. The walls were covered in hundreds of thousands of pieces of gum. They were delightfully colorful, and gum stuck to every centimeter of space. Happily, you walked up to the wall, took your gum out of your mouth, and stuck it to a brick.

James looked both disgusted and intrigued, and you couldn’t blame him. “It’s tradition, really,” you told him. “People have been putting gum here for years. Gross, yes, but also pretty cool.”

James carefully stuck his piece to the wall, making sure not to touch anything else. “It’s very interesting to see the sorts of traditions you come up with. The future is an curious place.”

“We say the same about the past.”

He smiled. Looking at the wall again, he said, “People chew this just for the flavor?”

“Yes, though it has other uses. It makes you concentrate harder. And some people chew it before a kiss, though the actual impact it has is debatable.”

James flushed, and you did the same. The thought of kissing him was certainly attractive. It had been, for years.

“Well,” he said bashfully, “there’s only one way to find out.”

He took a step towards you, leaving little space between you. Then, slowly, he placed a careful kiss to your lips.

“I hope I haven’t overstepped myself,” he breathed, stepping back.

“No, you haven’t.” With that, you pulled him closer again, kissing him with a little more fervor.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad, having him around. He was a quick learner, after all. And a good kisser.

And for those of you wanting to see what the gum wall looks like:

#potc #pirates #pirate #pirates of the caribbean #norrington #James Norrington #commodore norrington #norrington x reader #writings #writing #drabble #request #requests #drabbles

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