#little present to help you stay alive until the finale | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

allgoodnamesrgoneee · 2 months ago

Note

i love your virgil smut so much, dominant and size kink 😫😫 wondering if you could write the one that is similar for jude too please ❤

I know this one took me forever to upload but I had to make sure it was perfect for you guys. After 3 rewrites, I present to you...

After Hours

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — the one where you are his only desire.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 10.5k.

Warnings! FLUFF! He's down badddd, NSFW! SMUT (18+), size kink, protected vaginal sex (stay safe), oral sex (f receiving), hot sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

The Penthouse was alive with energy. Trent's birthday had drawn out the kind of crowd that made it impossible to move without brushing shoulders with someone.

Laughter spills over the booming bass of the music, blending with the distinct smell of alcohol and food wafting throughout the house. A mix of conversations buzz in every corner of the house—loud, overlapping, and relentless.

Jude leans against the far wall of the living room, eyes half-lidded as he sips from a drink he barely cares for. He wasn’t really a fan of these gatherings; too many people, too much noise. But Trent was a friend, and bailing wasn't an option.

At least not yet.

He was giving the party until midnight before making his excuses and heading out. It's 11:57. Almost there.

His gaze flickers to the clock mounted over the TV, then around the room at the partygoers. He spots Trent across the room, laughing and hugging a group of people, and smiles. He's happy his friend is having a good time.

He checks his watch again, making a silent vow to himself to stay put for at least two more minutes. He exhales quietly, thinking of how easy it would be to slip out unnoticed. He's already halfway to deciding on an exit strategy when something—someone—catches his attention.

There you are.

Standing on your tiptoes, trying—and failing—to grab something from the top shelf in the kitchen. Your brows furrow in concentration, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you stretch as far as your short frame would allow, but it's no use.

The cup remains tantalizingly out of reach, and it looks like you'd been at it for a while, silently battling the shelf like it was some kind of cruel joke.

Amused, Jude can't help the smirk tugging at his lips. The scene is oddly endearing.

His gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on your curvy figure before he sets his drink down, the thought of leaving slipping from his mind. His legs move before he can stop himself, carrying him across the room with an easy stride. It takes him a second to cross the living room, dodging a couple of people on his way before finally reaching the kitchen.

Jude pauses just behind you, his height towering over your small frame. You don't notice him at first, too focused on your mission to retrieve the elusive cup.

A grin plays at the corner of his mouth as he reaches up with ease, his long arm grabbing the cup that had been giving you such a hard time.

You finally notice him, head snapping around, eyes widening as you take in his presence. You're flushed, whether from the exertion or embarrassment, Jude isn't sure, but the sight made something warm bubble up in his chest.

“Need a hand?” His voice is low, teasing, his smirk not fading.

You blink at him, brows furrowing slightly before a small, sheepish smile pulls at your lips. "That obvious, huh?" you mutter, voice soft but laced with a hint of humor. Your cheeks are a little pink, but you don't seem angry, just mildly exasperated.

Jude raises an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “I don’t know, you were getting pretty close. Maybe another few inches and you would've nailed it.”

You roll your eyes at him, embarrassment fading into something lighter. “Oh, shut up. Are you going to give me the cup, or are you just here to gloat?”

He chuckles, lowering the cup to your level. “Maybe a bit of both.”

You snatch it from his hand with a dramatic sigh, but the small smile you wear tells him you aren’t really upset. “Thanks... I guess,” you say, tone playfully begrudging. You set the cup down and turn to him, raising your eyes to his face.

There's a pause between you both as you take him in. He can see it, the way your gaze drags down his chest, over his arms, and back up again. His body responds to the attention, a spark of attraction lighting up inside him as he watches you study him.

He likes that. The way you look at him like that. He wants to see it again.

“So...” he says, interrupting your stare. “What's the occasion?” His eyes flick to the cup on the counter. “Late night tea party for one? I didn't know those were a thing.” He's not sure why he says it, maybe just to keep the light banter going. It feels like he should say something.

He watches you raise an eyebrow at him, the corner of your lips curling into an amused smile. “I needed a drink. Thought it was better than bothering the bartender.” You shrug, picking up the cup and sauntering over to the fridge. He follows you with his eyes, taking in the sway of your hips, his heart rate picking up a little as he thinks of how much fun he could have with your curvy little body.

“I can make one for you if you want,” Jude offers, his voice still teasing, but there’s a new edge to it, something more playful, maybe even flirtatious. He leans against the kitchen counter, eyes following your movements as you reach into the fridge, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

You glance back over your shoulder at him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. "You? Make a drink?" you ask, amusement dripping from your tone.

He chuckles softly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been known to make a decent one or two. What are you in the mood for?”

You pause at the fridge, considering his offer for a moment before shutting the door without grabbing anything. Turning to face him, you lean back against the counter, mirroring his stance. “Surprise me.”

Jude grins, pushing off the counter as he steps closer, now standing directly in front of you. The space between you narrows, not quite enough to be uncomfortable, but just enough for the tension to feel palpable. He reaches up to grab a couple of bottles from the liquor cabinet above the sink, and you watch him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“So, do you always rescue people from their beverage-related dilemmas?” you ask, your tone light and teasing, though you can’t help but admire the ease with which he moves. There’s something effortless about him.

Jude smirks, eyes flicking to yours as he pours the first drink. “Only when they look as helpless as you did.”

You gasp, feigning offense, and lightly swat his arm. “I wasn’t helpless! I was just… strategically challenged.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, it drowns out the rest of the party’s noise. “Right. My mistake,” he says, handing you the drink with a smirk that makes it clear he’s not sorry at all.

You take the glass from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment, and you feel the electric tingle of the contact. It’s subtle but undeniable, and you wonder if he felt it too.

“Thanks,” you say, bringing the glass to your lips. You take a sip, the cool liquid soothing as it slides down your throat. You meet his gaze over the rim of the cup, noting the way his eyes seem to darken slightly as they lock onto yours.

“No problem,” he replies, voice quieter now, almost intimate despite the noise surrounding you. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for a brief second, it feels like the rest of the party has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you standing there, locked in this moment.

The drink is strong, but surprisingly good. You raise your eyebrows, impressed despite yourself.

“Well?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter with a smug expression. “Do I pass?”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you that one. It’s decent.”

"Decent, huh?" Jude’s grin widens, a flicker of something playful lighting up his face. "I'll take that as high praise."

You shake your head, laughing softly as the tension between you both begins to shift into something easier, more comfortable. “I didn’t mean that as praise,” you tease, taking another sip from your drink.

He chuckles at the light jab, the sound rumbling from his chest. “Of course not.” Jude glances at his watch, raising his brows slightly as he notices how late it is.

He hadn’t planned to stay for long, but he was having too much fun chatting with you to leave right now. It wasn’t like him to enjoy a conversation so much, especially at a party like this. There was something about you that drew him in, made him want to stay and learn more about you.

“Are you leaving?” you ask, seeming to notice his attention on his watch.

He raises his gaze to meet yours, blinking. He shrugs, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. “Was just about to leave, actually.”

Your smile falters slightly, just for a second. “Already? But the party’s just getting started.”

“Not really my scene,” Jude admits, glancing back toward the crowded living room.

You nod, gaze flicking back to the drink in your hand as you swirl it absentmindedly. “Well, glad you did. Otherwise, I’d probably still be standing here, struggling for that cup like a fool.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Oh, come on. You were laughing at me.”

“Not laughing,” he corrects, a teasing edge to his voice. “Just…observing.”

His gaze flicks to yours, lips twitching with a grin. You arch an eyebrow at the response, but the playful teasing has you smiling again.

“So,” Jude says, suddenly changing the topic. “How do you know Trent?”

“He’s my sister's boyfriend” you reply, “You?”

“Wait! You're Y/N?” He blinks at you, realization dawning as he takes in the information. “Right. I should’ve made the connection earlier.” He laughs softly at himself, shaking his head.

You look exactly like your sister, with people sometimes mistaking you for twins. Your height was the only way for people to distinguish you sometimes. With her being 5'5 and you being 5'2.

You smile at his confusion, seeming amused by his reaction. “Yeah, that’s me. How do you know her?”

“Trent brought her to my New Year's party.”

“Oh, yeah...” You frown at him, as though remembering something. “You’re Jude, right? I think my sister has mentioned you a few times.”

He smirks at the memory, feeling something warm in his chest at the mention of your sister talking to you about him. “That’s me.”

A small silence falls between you both, the tension growing less easy now, but not quite uncomfortable. He thinks of something to say, but before he can open his mouth, you beat him to it.

“Do you want to step outside with me for a minute?” you ask, already setting your drink down on the counter.

He blinks, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. He was about to ask you to grab another drink with him when you mentioned going outside.

“Sure,” he replies finally, picking his drink up from the counter. “Lead the way.” He follows you through the crowded house, almost losing you a couple of times as you seem to disappear into the crowd. Damn, you're short.

The balcony is quieter than the inside, a couple smoking in the corner, but otherwise, it's fairly empty. The sounds of the party are muted now, a muffled background noise. The cold air feels like a welcome relief after the heat of the crowded living room.

“Nice out here,” he says as you sit down at a lounge, nodding to the empty spot next to you as he lowers himself onto it.

You smile, settling into your seat as you pull your jacket a little tighter against the chill. "Yeah, it's nice to get some air. Gets a bit suffocating in there."

Jude nods, glancing back toward the house where the sounds of the party still hum faintly through the walls. He’s relieved to be out here, away from the chaos, but more than that, he's glad you're here too. Conversation feels... easy with you, even though you've only known each other for a few minutes.

"So, you do this often?" he asks, leaning back in the seat, watching the way you absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair between your fingers.

You raise an eyebrow at him. "What, escape to the balcony?"

"No, I meant..." He gestures vaguely with his drink, smirking a little. "Come to these kinds of parties."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Not really. Trent's parties are... something, but my sister drags me along sometimes. I think she feels bad leaving me home alone." You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance in your tone, just affection.

Jude studies you for a moment, noticing the way your expression softens when you talk about your sister. There's a warmth in your eyes that he hadn't seen earlier, and it makes him curious, wishing you would look at him like that.

"Seems like she cares about you," he says, tone a little softer now.

You shrug, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, she does. It's kind of nice, even if I act like it's annoying sometimes."

Jude nods, thinking about his own brother for a moment before turning the conversation back to you. "So, what do you do when you're not at parties you don't really want to be at?"

You snort softly, bringing your knees up to rest your feet on the edge of the lounge. "Oh, you know, just saving the world, one cup at a time."

He chuckles at your sarcasm, but there's a twinkle of genuine amusement in his eyes as he leans forward slightly. "Seriously though."

"Okay, okay," you relent, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "I'm a med student, so I guess you could say I'm learning how to save lives."

Jude's eyebrows lift, impressed. "Wow, that's... intense."

You shrug, though there's a flicker of pride in your expression. "It is, but I love it. Always wanted to be a doctor."

"That's cool," he replies, leaning back again. "I bet you're great at it."

You glance at him, something in his tone catching your attention. He sounded sincere, not like the typical empty flattery you sometimes got. It makes you smile.

A comfortable silence settles between you both as you sip your drinks, the night air crisp but not too cold.

Jude watches you for a moment, noting the way the moonlight casts a soft glow on your face, making your eyes seem brighter in the darkness. There’s something calming about being out here with you, something grounding. It’s not what he expected when he first spotted you struggling with that cup, but now that you’re here, he’s not in any rush to leave.

“You know,” he starts, his voice low but warm, “this isn’t a bad way to spend the night after all.”

You glance over at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, I guess it’s not.” You pause, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad you didn’t bail at midnight.”

Jude grins, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in his chest again. "Me too." He leans forward, resting his arm on the back of the lounge chair. "I mean, it would have been a bummer to leave right when I'm just getting to know a woman this beautiful." He smiles softly, his eyes sparkling in the faint light.

You flush, dropping your gaze to your drink as you fidget with the glass. “Um... thanks, I guess.” Your cheeks are hot, but you can't help the flutter in your chest at his words.

Jude notices your blush though, and it brings a smirk to his lips. He enjoys the way you fumble with your drink, clearly nervous at the compliment. He leans back again, sipping his drink quietly for a moment before looking over at you.

"You’re cute," he says, voice dropping down into something softer, lower, more intimate. “Especially when you're embarrassed.”

The flush deepens as you look away, your eyes skipping to the floor. "I'm not embarrassed," you say, but the fact that you're avoiding looking at him says otherwise.

"Sure you’re not," he replies with a chuckle, leaning forward again.

You fidget in your seat, eyes still down. Your cheeks burn, and you’re glad for the dim lighting out here that hopefully hides it. "Stop it," you mutter, but there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

Jude laughs softly, reaching out and sliding his hand into yours. His hand is warm, calloused, bigger than yours, and his fingers wrap easily around yours. "Can't help it," he says, squeezing your hand lightly. "You're too cute."

You swallow, mouth suddenly dry as your eyes dart to his hand in yours. He's holding it loosely, not gripping it tightly, but it's enough to feel possessive somehow, enough to make your heart race and your cheeks flush with heat. You can’t remember the last time someone touched you like this, let alone with such intention.

Your gaze snaps to Jude's, eyes wide and slightly nervous. His eyes are darker now, pupils dilated, his mouth curved in a low, satisfied smile. His thumb presses into the center of your palm, the pressure soft, light, sending goosebumps down your arm.

You swallow again, trying to form words, but coming up with nothing. The air between you feels heavy suddenly, thick with heat and tension, your heart pounding in your ears. You glance back at the house, wondering if anyone can see, if anyone notices, but the windows are empty, the party still going strong inside.

Jude chuckles, low and soft. "You good?" he asks, voice dropping into something lower, husky.

You swallow hard again. Your eyes dart back to his, finding his still locked on yours, his gaze intense.

"Yeah, I'm good," you finally manage to get out, though your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

Jude's smile widens, and he shifts closer, your thighs now touching. "Good." His hand tightens a little around yours, squeezing lightly. "Good," he repeats, his voice dipping into something even softer, more intimate before placing his now empty glass on a nearby table along with yours.

His eyes are still locked on yours, and the way he's watching you, it feels like he's looking right through the layers you’ve carefully built up. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, but not in a way that’s uncomfortable. In a way that feels… thrilling.

You bite your lip, the warmth of his hand grounding you even as your pulse races. There’s a tension now, something thick in the air that wasn’t there before. It crackles between you, electric, and you don’t know whether to pull away or lean into it.

"Jude…" you start, but your voice trails off. You’re not sure what you’re trying to say. You can’t even think straight.

He tilts his head, watching you carefully. "Yeah?"

You swallow, forcing yourself to hold his gaze, though your stomach twists in nervous anticipation. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your chest, like you’re standing at the edge of something new, something you can’t quite name. "What are we doing here?"

He smirks, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a slow, deliberate motion. "Just talking," he says, but the way he says it, the way his eyes darken, suggests that there’s a lot more simmering beneath the surface.

You laugh softly, a little breathless. "Is that what this is?"

His grin widens, and for a moment, he doesn’t respond. He just watches you, studying the way you shift nervously in your seat, the way your lip trembles slightly as you bite it. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What do you want it to be?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a long moment, you don’t say anything. You can feel the weight of the question hanging between you, his gaze heavy with something you can’t quite place. Something that makes your skin tingle, makes your heart beat faster.

"Jude..." you start again, but again, your voice dies off.

His grin softens. "Yeah?" His hand squeezes yours lightly, his fingers brushing over your wrist as his eyes dart to your mouth.

You feel your cheeks heat all over again, and there's a sudden ache between your legs that you can’t ignore. You fidget, trying not to think about it, trying to focus on the conversation instead. “This is a little... intense, isn't it?"

He chuckles softly, leaning in even closer, his lips just inches from yours now. "It doesn't have to be." His voice drops to a whisper as he looks at you. "I promise. Whatever you want."

For a moment, you don’t speak. You just look at him.

The dim light casts gentle shadows across his face—strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a slightly crooked smile that adds a touch of roguish charm to his otherwise serene expression. His lips are full, inviting. And his eyes. Oh, how beautiful they are. There’s a way he looks at you that makes you feel like the only person in the world. You want to stare into them forever.

He's beautiful.

Slowly, you reach out with your free hand, wrapping it around the back of his neck to pull him closer. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your mouth. Smell the subtle scent of his cologne—a hint of something warm and musky, with a touch of something fresh—mingling with the crisp night air.

Jude lets out a low exhale as he leans in the last few inches to meet you, pressing his lips softly against yours. They're warm and firm, gentle as they slide against yours, teasing a little with each movement. He doesn't rush it, just lets the kiss play out slowly as his hand squeezes around yours, pulling you closer.

You sigh against his mouth as he slides his tongue over your lower lip, a low noise of pleasure slipping from your throat. He groans softly at the sound, his hand shifting from yours to wrap around your side and pull you into his lap, your legs falling to either side of him on the lounge chair. You go willingly, letting him slide his arms around you, feeling him against you now.

Jude breaks the kiss after a moment, leaning back to look at you. "You taste good," he murmurs, his voice rougher now, deeper, his words sending heat flooding through you.

You flush, your cheeks warming again as your eyes drop to his mouth. "You too," you reply, barely above a whisper.

He hums softly, his fingers trailing along your side to brush against your waist. Your breath hitches at the light touch, and his hand moves again, his palm sliding down over your hips. "So fucking soft," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips. "I want to feel every inch of you."

A shiver runs through you at his words, desire burning inside of you at the promise in his voice. "Do it," you whisper, leaning in again to brush your mouth over his.

He groans, his hand pulling your crotch down to meet his. Jude's arms tighten around you, and you feel the hard length of him pressing against your core. You gasp against his mouth at the feel, your hips twitching slightly as he pushes you tighter against him. You both moan softly, your fingers tightening around the back of his head as you grind against him.

Jude pulls back with a chuckle, looking at you through his lashes. "Fuck, baby. You're going to kill me." He leans in again, pressing his mouth to yours as his hands slide underneath your skirt to cup your ass. He kneads your flesh gently, his hands rough against your skin as he squeezes. "Fuck. I knew you'd feel this good." He groans low in his throat, his tongue sliding over your lips once more.

You whimper into his mouth, heat burning in your lower belly as you rock against him. You're wet already, his touches, his words lighting you on fire. His hand shifts, one still cupping your ass as

the other slides between you to press against your clit through your panties.

A choked moan escapes you as you grind into his hand, your hips twisting against him. "Please," you breathe, breaking away from his kiss to lean against his shoulder. "Jude. Please." Your nails dig into his back at the pressure of his fingers through your underwear, his thumb sliding over your clit with each movement of your hips.

Jude lets out a harsh breath, his mouth running along your neck as his hands tighten around you. "God, baby," he groans. "I can't. There's too many people." He nips at your throat, his teeth sliding gently over your skin. "I don't want to share you. Not for one fucking second."

You cry out softly at his words, your hips bucking against his hand. "But I want you," you murmur, rolling your hips into his touch, your teeth sinking into his shoulder.

Jude's hands pull away from you, one cupping your jaw as you lean back against his arm, panting. "Look at me," he rasps, his eyes dark as they meet yours. "There's no way we're going to be able to do this right here." He trails his hand over your breasts, cupping them gently as he murmurs. "I need you too fucking bad, and there's not a chance in hell that I'm going to get you out of your pants before someone realizes what the fuck is going on."

He groans, leaning in to brush his lips over yours. "Come back to my place," he whispers against your mouth, his hand slipping over your hip once more. "Let me take care of you."

You flush at his words, his touch sending fire shooting through you. Your hand wraps around his arm, fingers digging into his skin. "Okay," you agree, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes slipping closed.

"Jesus," Jude breathes out, pulling you against his chest as he leans his mouth against your forehead. "If I take you home like this," he says, his voice low in your ear, "I'm not going to let you leave my bed for the rest of the night."

You bite your lip, swallowing back a whimper. "That sounds good," you breathe out, heat flooding your body at his words.

Jude’s breath shudders against your forehead. The night air feels colder now, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins. You can’t help but shiver slightly, but it’s not from the cold.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent as he starts to stand, lifting you with him. His grip on you is firm but gentle, as if afraid you might disappear if he holds too tightly. You smile a little at the thought, letting him guide you back inside.

As you walk, his hand slides to your lower back, his arm still wrapped around you. Your smile deepens, and your breath hitches, catching in your throat as you notice the way he’s staring down at you. “What?” you ask, a giggle bubbling up in your throat.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing,” he replies voice barely heard over the music. “I just like looking at you.”

You blush, biting your lip as you turn your gaze. A few of his friends glance at you, their gazes flicking to Jude’s hand wrapped around you before they turn back to their conversation.

He guides you through the crowd, his hand never leaving the small of your back, making sure you’re close to him. He stops by a group of friends, his mouth moving as he talks to them, but you don’t hear his words. You’re too busy looking up at him, taking in the hard planes of his face, the way his eyes flicker between you and his friends.

You don’t notice when he pulls out his phone, a smile on his lips as he types something out quickly. He slips it into his pocket, turning to wrap his arm back around you. His eyes flicker over your face, a grin playing on his lips as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “My driver is here,” he says softly. “Want to go?”

You nod quickly, heat burning inside of you. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you through the crowd again as you make your way to the door.

Jude holds your hand as he opens the door, stepping back to let you exit first. You do, walking out of Trent's penthouse and into the cool night air. The Porsche is parked at the curb, its doors already open as you step out. A driver stands next to it, his hands clasped in front of him as he waits.

You get in first, feeling like royalty as you slide into the smooth leather seats. The door closes behind you, and Jude slides in beside you. You catch a glimpse of his smile as he slides his arm around you, pulling your legs over his lap as he leans against you.

The car glides smoothly from the curb, heading down the highway toward the city. You lean back against the seat, feeling Jude's hand slide up your leg, his fingertips ghosting under the hem of your skirt. You turn to face him, grinning as you play with the collar of his shirt.

His eyes flick to your hand, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as you tease the fabric. "What are you thinking?" Jude murmurs, his voice thick with that same low, gravelly tone that sends shivers down your spine.

You shrug, feigning innocence. "Just wondering if you always wear shirts this nice," you tease, brushing your fingertips against the fabric again, trailing lightly along the edge of his collar.

Jude chuckles, low and deep, leaning his head back against the seat as his fingers slide further up your thigh, sending a wave of heat crashing through you.

Your breath catches, and you can't help the way your body reacts to his touch. The closeness, the heat, the tension—all of it coils tight inside of you like a spring wound too tight, waiting to snap. You glance down, watching his hand inch further beneath the fabric of your skirt, teasing but never fully satisfying.

The city lights outside blur as the car speeds down the highway, a soft hum filling the silence between you. The world seems distant, fading away as you lose yourself in the moment, in him. Jude’s hand pauses, resting just at the top of your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth lazily over your skin. It’s torture, slow and deliberate, making your body crave more.

"You have no idea what you’re in for, baby," he murmurs, his voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You grin, the anticipation coiling tighter in your belly as you press your mouth to his jaw, kissing along the sharp line there, tasting the faint hint of cologne on his skin. Jude’s hand shifts, sliding up to rest on your lower back, his fingers splayed wide as he presses you closer against him. His breath is ragged, his pulse quick under your lips, and you know he’s as affected by this as you are.

The car slows to a stop, and you glance out the window to see the entrance to a sleek high-rise building, all glass and steel, gleaming under the night sky. Jude doesn’t waste a second. He slides out of the car, his hand still gripping yours as he helps you out, pulling you close as he leads you toward the entrance.

The moment you step inside the building, the atmosphere shifts—quiet, intimate. The lobby is dimly lit, modern, and elegant, with polished floors and soft lighting. You barely register any of it, too focused on the way Jude’s fingers are laced with yours, the heat of his hand grounding you in the moment.

An elevator door opens, and Jude pulls you inside, pressing you up against the mirrored wall the second the doors close. His mouth is on yours in an instant, the kiss hot and urgent, all of the restraint from earlier gone in a flash. You gasp against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as you kiss him back just as fiercely, your body arching into his.

His hands are everywhere—on your waist, sliding up your back, gripping your hips. He groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you, making you weak at the knees. "I’ve been waiting all night for this," he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and full of need.

You pull back just enough to look at him, your breaths coming fast, your heart pounding in your chest. "So have me," you whisper, your voice breathless, your fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt.

Jude's eyes darken, his grip on you tightening as the elevator dings softly, signaling that you've reached his floor. He doesn't say another word. Instead, he grabs your hand again, pulling you down the hall toward his apartment, his pace quick and purposeful. Your pulse quickens with every step, the anticipation thrumming through your veins.

The door to his apartment swings open, and before you can even take in your surroundings, Jude pulls you inside, his hands already sliding under your jacket, pushing it off your shoulders as he backs you up against the nearest wall.

His mouth crashes down on yours again, the kiss rough and demanding, full of the same need that's been building inside you all night.

You arch against him, your arms looping around his neck as you pull him closer, kissing him back with just as much passion. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your waist tight as he presses you harder into the wall, his hips grinding against yours.

You can feel the hard length of him through his jeans, his cock straining against the fabric, sending a jolt of arousal through you. A whimper slips from your lips, and Jude growls low in his throat, his teeth grazing your jaw, your throat, making your skin prickle with goosebumps.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy." His hands shift, sliding up under your skirt to grip your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh as he lifts you up, his hard cock pressing right where you need it most.

You cry out, your head falling back against the wall, your breath catching as he grinds his cock against your pussy through the fabric of his jeans, the friction making your body clench tight with anticipation. His mouth is relentless, licking, sucking, and biting its way down your neck, sending waves of heat through you.

"Jude," you gasp, his name slipping from your lips on a moan.

He makes a rough sound, deep in his throat, and lifts you higher against him, his hands rough on your skin, his grip bruising. "Your ass is perfect," he mutters, his mouth traveling back to yours as he presses your hips harder into the wall, the thrusts of his cock against you almost enough to send you over the edge.

You're panting, gasping, your body trembling as the tension winds tighter and tighter inside you. Jude's hands are everywhere, groping and teasing as he devours your mouth, his tongue thrusting in and out in a rhythm that matches the thrusts of his hips.

The pleasure is almost too much, the anticipation threatening to boil over at any second. But then Jude suddenly stops, pulling back just a bit to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as his chest heaves with heavy breaths.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, his voice still low and rough, but his eyes locked intently on yours.

You nod, breathless. "more than anything" you answer honestly.

He nods once, then presses your body flat against the wall again. "Good," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss you again. It's hard and fast, almost brutal. Then, before you even know what's happening, he lifts you away from the wall and carries you away.

Jude’s grip is steady, firm as he carries you effortlessly through the spacious apartment. You barely notice the surroundings, too consumed by the fire between you, by the way his touch sets your skin ablaze. His lips find yours again, devouring, urgent, as he moves with purpose down the hallway.

You don't care where he's taking you as long as he keeps going. The feel of his hard cock against you is addictive. You arch your hips, pressing closer against him as he walks.

The next thing you know, your back hits the soft surface of his bed, and you land with a bounce, your skirt riding up your thighs. Jude stops at the foot of the bed, his eyes raking you from head to toe as he begins to pull off his shirt. The fabric ripples down his torso, revealing a chiseled chest and abs, taut muscles flexing beneath his skin.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding harder in your chest, anticipation burning through you like fire.

He’s bigger than you in every way. His hands are twice the size of yours, his biceps thicker than your thighs. He’s not a huge man, not overly muscled, but there’s a raw power in his body that’s undeniable. And you’re so tiny compared to him — so small that your head only comes up to his shoulder.

It’s not something he usually thinks about, but in the moment, it becomes a living thing. The size difference between the two of you is so apparent, so obvious, it’s hard to ignore. And for some reason, it makes Jude’s cock even harder.

Your eyes are locked on him, dark and dilated, as if you want nothing more than his hands on you. He steps closer, reaching for the fly of his pants. Your gaze tracks his every movement, your breathing quickening as he unbuttons his jeans.

You wet your lips, sitting up to lean forward on the bed. Your eyes are wide, your cheeks flushed with heat as Jude’s pants fall to his feet, revealing his boxers, the shape of his cock straining thickly against the fabric.

You lick your lips again, your eyes drifting up to his as he kicks his pants away, standing at the foot of his bed in only his boxers. The room seems to grow hotter.

"I'm going to fuck you so good," he promises, his voice low, husky, making you whimper with need.

The way he says it makes you want to agree, to give him whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You bite your lip, your pulse throbbing in your ears as he steps closer to you, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck.

He hauls you close, your thighs parting automatically as his knees hit the mattress and he comes down on top of you. His mouth finds yours, his lips coaxing yours open as he slides his tongue into your mouth. His kiss is hot and wet and everything you want in this moment.

He kisses you deep and slow, his weight pressing you down into his mattress. You moan into the kiss, your tongue moving against his as you roll your hips against him. He groans into the kiss, his cock twitching against you where you're grinding against it.

His hand slides down your body, his palm smoothing up to cup your breast. You squeak as he grabs it and squeezes. He smiles against your mouth, thrusting his hips against you as you mewl and squirm beneath him.

"Fuck," he grunts, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat. He nips at your skin, sucking a mark on the skin above your collarbone.

You whine, clutching at his shoulders and he bites harder, making you gasp. The sound turns him on, his hips jutting against you like he can't stop himself.

He pulls back to look at you, a smile twisting his lips. You're flushed pink, your pupils blown wide, lips plump from kissing him.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his expression tender as he looks at you, his hands moving over you in a slow caress. He tugs your skirt down your hips, tossing it aside, leaving you in just your lingerie. His hands come back up to you, running down the sides of your thighs, his thumbs brushing the waistband of your panties.

You moan as he touches you, your back arching. You're desperate for more. He laughs, his touch teasing, light as he rubs his thumbs along the edges.

"Please," you whimper, reaching for his shoulders. His hands slide up, his thumbs hooking into the straps of your bra and tugging it down your arms. He pulls it off, his gaze falling on the curves of your naked breasts. He groans as he takes you in, his eyes hot as they look at you.

He drops his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it, making you cry out. His hand finds your other breast, kneading it in his palm, squeezing. You gasp, your hips jolting up at the feel of his mouth on you.

He sucks harder, his teeth raking over your sensitive flesh. You moan, your nails digging into his back as he draws on your breast.

A shiver runs through your body as his hand falls to the waistband of your underwear. He tugs them down your legs and you raise your hips automatically, letting him pull them all the way off.

You're naked now, exposed and trembling with need as he looks down at you, sprawled out on his bed. Fuck.

You look so hot. So tiny and small compared to him, it’s impossible not to feel that urge to use you, to bend you to his will. It’s been there since the balcony, his desire to own you, to take care of you, but right now, it’s almost overwhelming.

"Spread your legs," he murmurs as he runs a finger up the inside of your thigh. You part your knees automatically for him and his hand moves straight up to your pussy. He presses his palm flat against your mound, his fingers slipping through your folds to feel your heat.

"Fuck," he groans, "look at you." You can't help but look. Your body is so much smaller than his, his hands spanning half the length of your thigh.

You gasp at the touch, your head falling back against the bed as he teases your clit. His fingers slide between your folds, rubbing, parting you open to find the entrance to your cunt. He circles it, his finger dipping inside, and you gasp.

You try to roll your hips and he moves his hand, using his palm to press you still.

"Let me play with you," he murmurs. You whimper, your body shivering with the touch. His mouth comes down over your breast again as he thrusts his finger into you with a squelch. "Shit, baby you're so wet." You moan at the stretch of his finger inside you, arching up against him. His teeth graze your nipple, his lips sucking it in his mouth.

You whine at the feel of him sucking on your nipple while his finger is inside you. The dual sensations make you gasp for breath as he thrusts into you, deep, making you clench around him.

His mouth moves to your other breast and he slides a second finger inside you as he sucks on your skin. You cry out, your back bowing as he uses his hand to hold you in place.

He finger fucks you, working your body with his touch as he nips at the curve of your breast, his teeth scraping your skin. He's careful not to hurt you, but you want him to go further.

He seems to realize that as he kisses his way back up your body. He holds his weight off you on one arm, his other hand still buried between your thighs as he works your cunt with his fingers.

You gasp as he curls his fingers inside you, stroking over your g-spot as he kisses your lips. You feel the build of your orgasm in the tightening of your belly, in the way your toes curl and your thighs clench. He rubs you faster, his mouth eating at yours as he drives you higher and higher.

The orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling through your body and leaving you trembling in his hold. You cry out against his mouth as he rides you through it, his fingers working your pussy until it's spent.

He kisses your lips softly as he pulls his hand from you, his cock still hard against your leg. He shifts his hips to the side, sliding between your legs as you lay there, flushed and panting.

His hands move to his boxers, tugging them down his hips as you watch. Your eyes grow wide at the sight of his cock, thick and long and hot. He's so big. Unlike anyone you've had before. You have no idea how he’s going to fit.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jude’s mouth moving over your stomach, kissing his way down your body. His kisses are slow, sweet and you let him, relaxing against the bed with a moan.

His lips move over your hipbones, his tongue licking the skin and you can't help the giggle that escapes. He pauses to look up at you, his eyebrow arched in amusement.

"You ticklish?" he asks. You nod and he chuckles as he moves closer. His mouth drops to your mound and you gasp as his lips place a gentle kiss on it.

"Jude," you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair.

He moans, his lips moving over your pussy. He kisses your folds as he pushes them apart with his fingers and you arch under the touch. Your thighs part, falling open to let him have his way and he takes it, kissing along your slit, his tongue flicking out to tease you. You shiver at the feel of it on your clit and he repeats it, circling your little nub in a teasing caress.

He growls against you as he licks you open. Your cunt is wet and pink and fucking perfect. His tongue is long and rough against your sensitive skin and you gasp, clutching at the bedding as he goes to town. He sucks on you, his tongue pushing inside, licking your taste on his lips as he drinks you in.

His hands come down on either side of your thighs, pressing them open as his mouth finds your clit and sucks. Your body jolts at the feel of his lips, his tongue flicking at you in a quick caress that has you gasping in shock.

You whimper, your toes curling as he eats at you. You've never felt anything like this before. It's incredible, the way his mouth feels on you, his tongue stroking you in long swipes.

"Jude, fuck," you gasp and his growl vibrates against your clit as he works you towards another orgasm.

It doesn't take long. You're so sensitive, so worked up already. His tongue flicks over your clit in quick circles and you burst in a rush, your whole body trembling with the force of it. Your thighs clamp down around his head as he holds you steady, his tongue still stroking your clit through it.

You’re sensitive to the point of pain by the time he eases off, licking slowly as he lets you come down from the orgasm. You whine, your legs still clamped around his head and he gently works you open, his hands soft on your thighs.

His face is wet with your taste as he comes up over you, kissing you deep and filthy, making you taste yourself on his lips.

He's hard as hell against your thigh, his cock pressing into you and you roll your hips up in instinctive need. He groans, grinding his cock against you, rutting you like he needs it.

"I need you," you pant, kissing him, your hands running down his back. "Please, I need it."

His groan is thick and guttural. "Yeah, baby, need that big cock in that tight little pussy? Want me to fuck it? Hm?" He thrusts his hips against you to punctuate his words and you moan. You gasp, your eyes going wide at the way he talks, but fuck, you like it. It makes you hot, his dirty words making you need more.

You nod, your fingers sliding down to his ass, holding his hips tighter to your body. "Yes," you agree, "please, I want it."

"Fuck, you are so fucking hot," he whispers as he leans to the side to reach for a drawer in the bed, pulling out a condom. He tears it open and slides it over his cock, his hands slick with lube as he fists himself, working his shaft. Never taking his eyes off you. Fuck. This is going to be so good.

He drops on top of you, his weight heavy on you as he braces his elbows beside your head. his hands running up your thighs and hooking underneath your knees. He pushes them up towards your chest, opening you wide and you feel vulnerable in his hold, tiny and exposed as he lines his cock up with your cunt.

"You ready for me, baby? Gonna fill you up," he growls, his eyes dark and serious as he watches your reaction.

You can only moan, unable to talk as you feel his cock at the entrance to your body, hot and hard against you.

He stops, his eyes locked on yours as he checks on you. "You okay?" he whispers.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes flicker to his. There’s a tenderness in his gaze, cutting through the thick haze of lust that surrounds you both. The way his voice softens when he asks—it's a moment of clarity, and it grounds you.

You nod, feeling the pressure of him right there, so close to entering. "Yeah," you murmur, your voice breathy, lost in the pleasure he's giving you. "I'm okay."

Jude's lips curve into a small smile, one that only deepens the wetness between your legs. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, reassuring you. "Good. I'll take care of you," he promises, and then his eyes drop to where he's pressed against you.

You moan, your mouth dropping open as you feel him press into you.

"Ah," you gasp, looking up at him in shock. Your fingers curl into the sheets, your body not yet adjusted to his size. He's huge inside you, thick, your walls stretching to accommodate him. The burn of his penetration is almost painful and you clench around his cock instinctively.

His breath shudders, and you can hear the restraint in his groan as he fights to keep it slow. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he mutters, forehead resting against yours as your gummy walls squeeze his cock.

You can feel him everywhere. His breath hot on your neck, his hands firm on your legs, his cock stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before.

You're fucking ruined for life. Ruined for anyone else.

You gasp, your body taut and trembling, and he moans as he settles deep inside your body. His eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back as he gasps.

For a moment, neither of you move. His hips stay locked against yours, the both of you catching your breath. Jude’s hands caress your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin there as if to ease you into this. His lips ghost over your cheek, whispering soft words you can barely make out, but you know they’re for you. Only for you.

And then he moves.

It’s a slow, gentle pull out, almost torturous in its pace, followed by a deep thrust back in. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, your back arching as you take him.

"Fuck, you're tight, baby," he pants. "Oh shit, I knew you'd feel good." He drops his forehead to yours with a groan. "But this," he thrusts, his cock moving inside you in a slow, deep stroke, "this is better than I imagined." He looks down at you, watching you as he fucks you, your cunt clenching tight around him as he moves in you. His cock fills you full, so full, and you're hot and tight and wet as hell around him, and he fucking loves it. You can see it in his eyes.

"Jude," his name is a moan as he drives deep inside you, hitting you with a thrust that makes you gasp in shock.

"That feel good, baby?" he pants, his hands sliding down to grab at your ass, holding you still as he fucks into you. You clutch at him, your arms wrapping around him. He kisses you deep, his mouth dropping to yours as his cock thrusts into your cunt. "Love you around my cock," he grunts against your lips. "It's so fucking perfect." Your whimpers make him growl.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in his skin as he fucks you harder, faster, pounding into you. The bed creaks beneath you, the air heavy with the sounds of skin against skin, of gasps and moans. You’re lost in it, in him—completely undone by the way he makes you feel.

It’s like nothing else matters. Nothing. Right now, all that exists is Jude, his body moving against yours, his cock filling you over and over until you can’t think straight.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking it so well." You can feel his words vibrate in his chest, and it only drives you higher.

It’s too much. Too much sensation, too much pleasure, and you cry out, the sound high-pitched and desperate as you clench down around him. "Fuck, fuck, baby," he growls against your lips as he feels it. "That feels so fucking good. Look at me. Look at me when I make you cum." His fingers move down to rub your clit, your pussy clenching tighter around him and he groans, thrusting into you with a growl as he tips you over the edge.

"Jude, Jude," you pant his name like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding him closer. "Oh shit!" You feel your pussy clench and ripple around him, milking his cock for everything.

Your eyes flutter, your head tipping back with a gasp as your body trembles through the orgasm. Your cunt pulses tight around his cock and he groans as he takes you through it. His thrusts become unsteady, deep and hard and fast as he pounds into your little cunt and you take it.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against your neck. "There you go. Cum on my cock, baby. That's a good girl." His mouth moves to your shoulder, his teeth sinking into you as he grunts, his body shuddering with pleasure.

He’s close. You feel it in the way he holds himself against you, in the way his breaths become short and heavy against your skin. "Fuck, I'm going to cum, baby," he gasps.

You clench down on his cock with a moan, squeezing his length inside you, and his mouth drops to yours in a hot and filthy kiss.

He fucks into you with a grunt, his thrusts quick and hard as he seeks his release. His body moves against yours in rough jerks, his cock thick inside you, filling you. He growls as he fucks, his lips dropping to your neck.

"Baby," he gasps, "fuck," he moans again, his voice so deep it’s almost a whine. You feel him shudder against you, his whole body trembling as he thrusts into you.

"You want my cum?" he growls against your shoulder and you moan at the words, your body already clenching in response.

"Yes," you gasp. "In me, please." He thrusts deep inside you at your words, his groan loud in your ear.

"I’m gonna fill you so full of it," he pants, grinding deep inside you. "So full," he grunts, face buried in the crook of your neck "gonna fill you up and then it's going to drip out of your tight little pussy."

His lips are hot on your skin as he gasps your name, his body jerking into you. "Fuck," he breathes, his hips rolling against yours in a deep grind.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he rides out the pleasure, cumming again for the fourth time that night. He groans, his hips jerking against yours, thrusting his cock deep inside you as he empties into the condom. His fingers curl into you, holding your body close as he fills you, and it’s so good.

The way he feels inside you, the way his cock throbs and pulses as he cums. You can feel it, even through the condom, and it makes you gasp. He thrusts again, groaning as he keeps going, wanting to fuck you through it as much as you do.

And then it’s over.

His body shudders through the aftershocks and he goes still on top of you. His head drops to your shoulder, his breath coming in ragged pants as he holds you close, riding out the aftershocks together.

His face moves back to yours, his lips pressing a kiss against your forehead. "Well, shit," he mutters against you. "You're amazing."

You giggle, your hands running over his back. His weight is comforting on top of you as you come down, your breaths slowing. You let him stay for a moment, enjoying the weight and heat of his body before he pulls out and rolls to the side, stripping off the condom and tossing it into a bin by his bed.

You follow him to the side, turning and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you let the afterglow wash through you. He smiles, turning to look at you and lifting his arm.

"Come here," he murmurs.

You roll onto your side, pressing against him as he curls his arm around you, pulling you close. He nuzzles into your hair, his fingers running through it as he pulls your body into his. Your leg lifts, your thighs opening around one of his as you curl into him, the softness of the bed and pillows enveloping you.

"Mmmhmm," he mutters, running his hands down your back. "God, I don't want to move. You feel so good."

You smile against him, kissing his chest. "Me neither. I'm comfortable right here."

He laughs, his chest vibrating with it. He rolls a little closer to the edge of the bed, reaching down and pulling up the blanket. He wraps it around you both, tucking it in so that it covers you completely and you're nestled into him, warm and comfortable.

"Better?" he asks.

"Mmm, perfect."

He hums, his arms coming around you again. He snuggles into you, nuzzling your cheek.

"You are perfect," he tells you, his voice gentle as he lets the afterglow take him over. His lips move against your shoulder, his hands rubbing your back and hips. "Thank you for tonight."

You smile, turning your head so you can kiss him. He moves with you, meeting you in it as his hand cups your cheek. His lips are soft and sweet, his tongue teasing yours as he kisses you back.

When you break it, you both smile and snuggle in, holding each other close.

"Mmmm," he says. "I'm gonna want to do that a lot more." His arm curls around your body, holding you close as you snuggle deeper. "Are you alright?"

"I'm great," you tell him. "That was amazing."

He grins, his body relaxing as he holds onto you. His voice drops into a soft mumble, the last of the afterglow pulling him over. "Good. I can't wait to do it again. Best sex of my life." His hand runs up your side, his finger brushing against your breast. "Can't wait for more of that. You're perfect, baby girl." His lips press against the side of your head and he holds you close. "So perfect for me."

His words send a spark of happiness through you and you smile, dropping your head onto his chest. He holds you closer, his fingers rubbing up your back, his hands resting on your lower back and ass.

Then you feel his body pulling away from yours. You mumble a protest, reaching for him, and you can feel him chuckle.

"Shh, baby, I'll be right back," he tells you softly. His lips press a kiss to your forehead and then he's rolling away from you, moving to the side of the bed. "Just need to run to the bathroom for a minute."

You hum, stretching and letting your eyes flutter open. He's pulling on his boxer briefs, moving out of the bedroom. You watch him go with a little sigh, your body still buzzing from the afterglow. You roll over onto your back, running a hand through your hair and smiling up at the ceiling.

God, he's perfect.

He comes back a few minutes later, a warm towel in his hands. You turn your head to look at him as he moves back onto the bed, a soft smile on his face. He runs the towel up your thigh, leaning down to kiss your hip.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmurs.

Your thighs drop open, letting him clean you with the warm towel. His mouth moves against your skin, his tongue licking at your hip as he holds the towel against you. The warmth feels good against your pussy and you let out a soft sigh, tilting your hips into his touch.

"Does that feel better?" he asks. You nod, his eyes lifting to yours.

"Yeah, that feels really good." Your voice comes out breathy and soft as he cleans you again. "Mmmm."

He smiles, his lips brushing against your stomach. His tongue flicks out to lick at your skin as he moves his mouth lower. You shudder a little, wanting to push your hips up, and his mouth lifts to yours.

He crawls over you, bracing his arms on either side of you. His lips cover yours, kissing you slowly. His tongue slips between your lips, his teeth catching your lip as he moves his hips against you.

Your thighs lift up around his, holding him close between your legs. His cock is hard again, pressing against your stomach, and he groans as he feels it.

"Again?" he asks you.

You smile and nod, reaching up to kiss him again. He smiles too, his lips covering yours.

"Mmmm," you murmur against him. "Yes."

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham #jude x you

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 26 days ago

Text

✨All Dolled Up✨

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: After months of hard work, Lucifer finally gifted you a welcome present after joining the hotel! In return, you decide to make something of your own just for him! Your gift, however, turns out to be even more special than you intended...

This is a surprise story for my friend @rosen-und-mondlicht who gave me this very creative and fun idea for a story! Love you boo <3

Huge thanks to @canihaveacandycane and @citrusbatsandhoneybees for the help on this one!

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! We're so happy to have you stay with us! We hope your time here is an enjoyable one!

-Hotel Staff

P.S. Hey there! I'm sorry this took so long to give you, I just had to make it perfect! I hope you like it!

-Lucifer

It was custom for every new resident to receive a welcome letter. Even though you've already been at the hotel for 6 months now, it was still appreciated. You walked into your room and found your very late letter sitting next to a small white box complete with a red bow resting at the foot of your bed. The gift was unexpected; however, you hadn't heard of anyone else receiving one. Once you read the card, you figured you knew the reason for its delay. Lucifer, always the perfectionist, must have stalled the whole operation.

You hadn't expected to become so close to the King of Hell himself. You were weary of him at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Everyone knew about the fallen angel. But after a while, you started to warm up to him. It was easy to see that he was nothing like you imagined or had been told about while you were alive. He was a kind soul, a dreamer who loved his daughter dearly, and someone who was very, very lonely. You learned about his previous wife Lilith and how she had left several years ago never and hadn't been heard from since. You could tell this deeply affected Lucifer even though he did his best to hide it through his jovial persona. You two grew pretty close, he found you incredibly easy to talk to, as if he had known you his whole life. You enjoyed your time together and you found joy in listening to whatever he chose to ramble on about that day be it his latest project or reminiscing about his daughter Charlie when she was younger. You'd never admit it, but you had developed somewhat of a crush on the king. But who were you to get involved with the ruler of Hell? It wasn't your place as a mere sinner and you dared not ruin the friendship you had built with him, odd as it may be.

Curiously, you picked up the box and casually began to unwrap it. you lifted the lid to find a cute little rubber duck that resembled you! All the little details down to your hair, your eye color, and somehow it managed to capture your smile in its little orange beak. You loved it, no wonder to took him so long to complete; every detail was perfect. It was such a thoughtful gift, and you felt the burning need to return the favor! Who knows the last time Lucifer had been given a gift. Why couldn't it be from you?

You noticed something else in the box too and lifted it up gently. It was a beautiful white and red feather. You knew it must have been his, but did he mean to give this to you as well? Knowing him, he must have worked frantically to get this gift finished. A few must have fallen off during the packing process; you knew how stressed the man could get. But the feather gave you an idea. You couldn't make rubber ducks like him, that was his specialty. But you did, however, know how to make little felt dolls! You were very crafty during your life and you figured you might as well use the skills you have to do something good.

You spent most of the night sewing and stitching everything together, ignoring the many warning signs your body gave you in order to try and get you to sleep. You were stubborn, however. Once you started a project, it was almost impossible for you stop until it was complete. It was nearly dawn by the time you finally finished the little doll. Well, almost finished! Everything was perfect, from the little snake that wrapped around his little hat to the tiny golden buttons on his jacket. There was only one things left to do! You grabbed the feather that you had found your box and delicately placed it inside of the small slit you had left open on the side of the doll. You thought the feather could represent a heart, something meaningful to give the doll and make it different from anything else.

Finally, you stitched the last gap closed, cutting the strong with your teeth to finally complete your gift. You stared at the doll for a moment to admire your work. And you were happy. But something weird happened. Just then, a small flash of golden light emanated from the doll but disappeared as quickly as it came. You set it down and rubbed your eyes. You looked over the doll again for another minute, but the flash of light never returned. You chalked it up to being a trick of the light. And considering the fact that you were sleep deprived, you wouldn't put it past your brain to start pulling tricks on you. You shrugged it off, taking the doll with you to bed. You drifted off to sleep easily, your eyes growing heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. You clutched the doll close to your chest, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Lucifer," you whispered to it before letting your body fall unconscious.

****

You woke up with a start to the sound of your alarm blaring. It was 8:00 a.m. Not nearly enough sleep. You realized you hadn't moved all night; your body must have been too exhausted to toss and turn. You found yourself still holding the doll and smiled to yourself. You were still exhausted, but you knew Charlie would be sad if you missed breakfast, so with all of your remaining strength, you pulled yourself out of bed and begrudgingly began to get ready for the day. You decided you use a small tan paper you had from one of your shopping trips bag to hold the doll, thanking yourself for not just tossing it away like you normally would have.

You made your way to the kitchen knowing Charlie would be preparing breakfast for everyone. But to your surprise, when you entered through the kitchen door, it was not the princess you found at the stove, but her father. You heard him whistling a song you never heard before, a perfect melody. Your heart began to race as you walked a little bit closer to him, the smell of pancakes filling your senses.

"I can hear you, you know," Lucifer called out playfully as he flipped a pancake in the air. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Well, I'm glad," you retorted, now standing beside him. "I didn't really want to be scaring you when you’re working over a hot stove like that."

He gave you a small smirk without looking away from what he was doing. "Oh yeah, that truly would be terrible, wouldn't it?" he laughed. You knew he was more or less invincible, being an angel and all. Still, you didn't want to distract him.

"I thought Charlie was usually the one to prepare breakfast," you commented.

"Oh, she is!" Lucifer smiled. "But I told her I would handle the meals today. My little girl works so hard around here, you know? I thought it would be nice to take something of her plate...so to speak." He chuckled at his own joke as he laid the freshly made stack of pancakes on the neatly assembled row of plates.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, setting down the brown paper bag behind the kitchen island out of his view.

"Sure!" He turned around and pointed to the condiments he had laid out. "Could you hand me the syrup and the whipped cream over there?" You did as he asked and brought him the items. Lucifer began to smother the fluffy cakes in syrup and drawing little ducks with the whipped cream to top them all off. When he was finished, you and him delivered breakfast to the hotel residents. You came back to the kitchen to notice there were two plates of pancakes left.

"Oh, we forgot some," you commented. "Who did we forget?"

Lucifer only smiled. "Those are for us, silly! You have to eat too, don't you?"

In your effort to help, you completely forgot that you hadn't eaten. He handed you your plate and fork and you two stood there eating his delicious creation as you leaned against the countertop.

"These are amazing!" you tried to say with your mouth still half full.

Lucifer swallowed his last bite and gave you a toothy grin. "Why thank you! I'll be honest, I haven't cooked in a long time. I was afraid I had forgot how. But if you like them, then I know I succeeded!"

You set your finished plate down and crossed your arms. Lucifer seemed to be in more high spirits than usual. You liked seeing him like this; just happy. "If you don't mind me saying, Lucifer, your mood seems...different. N-Not in a bad way! Just...more full of energy."

He followed your motion and set his plate down behind him. "You think so?"

"Yeah," you continued. "It's nice to see. I like a happy Lucifer."

He smiled at you and left out a soft sigh. "Can I tell you something?" You tilted your head in confusion but nodded. "This is gonna sound a little weird, maybe a little bit crazy, but just hear me out, okay?"

"Of course! I never think you're crazy," you smiled. His hand found the back of his neck; he looked as though he was nervous about whatever he was about to tell you. Your heart started racing again.

"Last night, when I was sleeping...in the middle of the night, I felt something...I don't know how to say this...constricting me?" You furrowed your brow, not understanding what he was trying to say. "Maybe that's not the right word. Let's say...holding me. That sounds better."

"Holding you?" you questioned, "I'm not sure I get it."

"Okay uhh, let me think..." he placed his hand under his chin. "It almost felt like...cuddling?"

"So...someone was cuddling you last night?" you spoke in a hushed tone. You feared the worst when you heard him say those words. Lucifer noticed your change in demeanor and quickly back peddled.

"No, no, that's the thing! I was alone last night!" he reassured you. "I always sleep alone, ever since..." he shook his head as to move on and forget it. But you knew what he was going to say. "It was the strangest damn thing, in the middle of the night no less! And there was a voice that..."

Your brain refused to acknowledge Lucifer's last few words and were more focused on the fact that he was indeed alone last night. "That...certainly is odd. What could..."

Oh no...

Your eyes went wide with fear, your whole body froze, you couldn't bring yourself to finish your thought.

The doll.

The doll you made for him. You went to bed with it last night. You held it in your arms. You kissed it goodnight!

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

"Is everything alright?" Lucifer snapped you back to reality. "You look paler than me!"

You swallowed hard trying to muster up any sort of response. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, I'm totally fine! I just...I realized I promised I would help Angel with something this morning and I completely forgot! So, I'll see you later!"

You didn't give Lucifer a chance to respond as you ran out the door and grabbed the bag you had hidden from view. You didn't let up until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you. You set the bag down carefully onto your bed and gingerly removed the doll from it, using only your nails to hoist it out. You let it lay in your hand as you stared at it with panicked eyes.

"What the hell did I do?!" you asked yourself in a berating tone. "It's just a doll, it shouldn't have - hold on..." A sudden memory came flooding back to you. You called the doll emitting a strange light the night before as soon as you finished sewing the remaining stitches. Last night, you thought it was just the trick of the light; it was late and you were beyond exhausted. But that didn't explain why Lucifer was able to feel you holding him last night. The last thing you did was add "...the feather!"

That must be it! His feather must have caused the connection. Lucifer was an angel after all, a magical being of pure light. Surely anything that was a part of him would carry those same properties. You had to get rid of it! But how? You didn't know the extent of what this doll could feel. Surely stabbing it with a knife would cause him some pain...you think. Given Lucifer was more or less indestructible, you still didn't really want to test that theory.

So, you stood there with the doll limp in your hand unsure of what to do with it next.

You couldn't bring yourself to destroy it, you put so much work into it and it would kill you to get rid of something that was meant to be an innocent gift. The best option would be to hide it, leave somewhere no one would find it and forget that it even exists. But then, the thought of Lucifer's smile crosses your mind. He was so happy this morning, happier than you've ever seen him. And it was because of you. Not that you would every dream of telling him that. But maybe...maybe it would be alright if you kept it. If you held it close to you at night. Perhaps it wasn't the most moral decision, but hey, you're in Hell, morality is not a common practice here. You brought that doll to your chest and held it tight. "I'm sorry..." you murmured to it, "If I can't tell you how I really feel, maybe this is the next best thing."

For the next several nights, you went to bed with the held tightly. And for the next several days, you couldn't bring yourself to face Lucifer. Anytime you heard him approaching or his voice getting closer, you ran the other direction. But not far enough to completely miss him. While you hid from his view, he had that same jovial expression since the day you made breakfast together. It warned your heart to know that what you were doing had a positive effect on him, even though you couldn't shake the guilt that came with that either. Sometimes he would catch you by surprise and spot you from across the hall. Lucifer would call out to you but you made it a point to get out of there as fast as possible. Strangely enough, he never sought you out after you ran, but you thought that was for the best.

One night before you went to bed, you sat up on your mattress staring at your creation resting in your palms.

"I'm a coward," you told yourself. "I should just tell him the truth. Why am I even doing this? I want him to be happy, but this isn't right. I shouldn't have put the feather in there, I should have just thrown this in my closet and not given it a second thought. But no! Now I'm avoiding him like a frightened cat because I don't have the guts to tell him..." You sighed. "One more night. Just one more. And then I'm done. I'll never think about this again." You turned off your lamp and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

****

You cracked your eyes open the next morning, the light of the red sky filling your room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before feeling around for your doll. You couldn't find it. Your opened your eyes wider. The doll wasn't there. You leaped from the bed and quickly began turning over your covers and throwing the pillows onto the floor. Nothing. You dropped to the ground and peered under your bed to a shocking sight. You gasped.

Keekee somehow found her way into your room. And what was in her mouth other than your little Lucifer doll.

"Keekee," you called to her. "I'm gonna need that back, sweetie! That's not a toy!" Your hand reached out slowly, trying not to spook the little cat. Her tail whipped back and forth as she raised her hind legs. "Nooooooo, don't you dare Keekee, I swear I'll..." but before you could finish your threat, she bolted from under your bed and ran straight out of your room. "Damn it!"

You didn't have time to change and in that moment you didn't care. You flung the door wide open and watched Keekee turn the corner, the doll still in her tiny mouth. "Keekee, get back here!" you yelled down to her as quietly as you could. You didn't know what time it was but it was too early to be cursing at a cat. She scurried away into another hall, forcing you to chase after her. You never lost sight of her, which you thought was a little odd. Normally Keekee could disappear if she really wanted to, but at no point did she ever make an attempt to avoid you completely. It was almost like she wanted you to follow her.

After several crazy turns, you saw her duck into and open door in one of the hallways. You figured it must be a closet. She was finally trapped. You hurried over to the dark room and pushed the door shut so the cat couldn't escape easily. But now you couldn't see.

"Keekee, come here girl," you cooed. "I promise I'm not mad, I just want the doll back." You found it a little ridiculous that you were trying to barter with a cat, but it was early in the morning and your hadn't fully woken up yet. "This isn't funny anymore, you know. Please, Keekee, I need that back!"

"And why would that be?" a low voice boomed in the dark. You shrieked as the lights flashed on. After blinking a few times trying to get your eye to readjust, you realized where you ended up.

Lucifer's workshop...with Lucifer sitting at his desk, Keekee snuggled in his lap.

Shit.

The first thing you could process was that you were still in your nightgown. Instinctively, you threw your hands over your chest in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Lucifer apologized, quickly covering his eyes with his forearm. "H-Here!" With a snap of his fingers, a giant blanket formed around you, covering you from head to toe. You gripped it tightly to keep in from falling off your shoulders. Lucifer peaked through his arm to make sure you were decent. "Sorry again, I should have realized you wouldn't have been dressed yet." You felt your cheeks burn as he spoke. He reached down to pet Keekee who had then dropped the doll into his other hand. "Such a good girl, Keekee!" he praised her, "who's a good girl? You are! Yes you are!" He looked back up at you and cleared his throat. Lucifer stood up from his chair while Keekee leaped onto the ground, curling up into a ball, and taking a little nap under his desk.

You swallowed hard before finally finding your voice to speak. "L-Lucifer, I-I can explain! I-"

"It's alright," the fallen angel smiled. "I'm sorry about all this, but you've been avoiding me lately. I knew you'd follow Keekee once you realized she stole this from you." He held out the doll in his hand. "You made this?"

You nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact. "It was meant as a gift for you. The duck you gave me was amazing, I wanted to give you something in return, but..." you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Lucifer continued to smile softly at you. This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting from him. You had so many questions and so many apologies to give him, but there was one burning question that you needed answered first. "Did you know something like this was possible?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, I didn't. One of my feathers is in this, right?" You nod. "It must still contain its magic despite not being attached to me anymore."

Your eyes shifted to the ground. "How did you know it was me?"

"I heard you." You raised your eyebrow, not understanding his answer. "I heard your voice. Anytime you held the doll, I heard you, as if you were whispering in my ear. At first, I didn't recognize it. But as you kept talking, the words you were saying; it all clicked. I've been trying to get your attention these last few days but you ran as soon as you saw me. Were you...afraid that I would be angry?"

You nodded again, tears now welling up in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Lucifer, I didn't mean to...I just..."

"Hey, hey! Please don't cry! Please?" Lucifer quickly wiped away the tears that fell down your cheek. "I'm not angry, I promise! I'm the furthest thing from it!"

You sniffled a few times, trying to even out your breathing again. "You...You're not? But why?"

Lucifer looked down at the doll in his hand and sighed. "Because...I haven't felt that kind of care in a long time. " He gently ran his hands over the small striped undershirt of the tiny Lucifer. "Hehe, it feels weird when I do it..." He looked back up at you with the most needy eyes you've ever seen. "I should have talked to you immediately after I figured out what was going on. I should have made more of an effort. But I didn't. I know that's selfish of me. But...I was afraid if I did, you would stop. Every time I tried to talk to you, you ran. And I was silently grateful that you did. It meant I would get to feel that same feeling of being held again that night. When you said that last night would be the final time, I knew I had to come clean. I couldn't let you go on thinking that what you were doing was wrong. I hope you can forgive me."

He was apologizing to you? When you were the one that made this magical doll and refused to tell him about it? "You have nothing to be sorry for, I created this, and I didn't tell you what was happening when I learned what I'd done. This is my fault."

"Can I see your hand?" Lucifer asked, almost as if he was ignoring the blame you were putting on yourself. You did as he asked and outstretched your hand. He placed the doll flat in your palm. "You're very skilled, you know. You did a wonderful job capturing my good side," he chuckled. "I know this was originally meant for me, but I want you to keep it. What you do with it is up to you." You remained perfectly as he spoke. "If you want to forget that this ever happened, I would completely understand. You can put it on a shelf or hide it in a closet, and this will never be brought up again." His palms rested on top of the doll and the bottom of your hand. "But..." his grip tightened ever so slightly, his claws digging into the fabric.

"You don't want that, do you?" his thoughts leaving your mouth. Lucifer didn't respond, he didn't even look up as you asked him.

That was all the answer you needed.

You pulled away and hid the doll under your blanket, giving him a soft smile. "I'll keep it...you safe. I promise. If it's what you really want."

"I do." The king couldn't help but beam at you. He wrapped his arms around you, constricting your own. He pulled away once he realized how hard he had been squeezing you. "Sorry," he laughed lightly. "Umm, by the way, i-if you ever need me, you can use the doll to talk to me if I'm not around. It can be about anything..." he leaned in closer and closer to you until you felt the light brush of his lips against your cheek. "And I do mean anything. I don't want to, you know, assume anything, but there had to be a reason why you went to bed with the doll every night. Some of the things you said...it sounded like you had more that you wanted to say. I just don't want you to be afraid. We're friends after all, right?"

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you listened to his words. You tried to speak but only air left your lips. Lucifer only giggled as you watched his cheeks turn a pale yellow. You couldn't believe what he was inferring. it couldn't be possible. And yet here you were with Lucifer himself practically begging for more of your attention.

"I...I don't know what to say," you finally managed to choke out. "This is all a little overwhelming, Lucifer."

"Then don't say anything," Lucifer responded. "Take all the time you need. I hope to see you soon," With a snap of his fingers, you were engulfed in sparkling red flame. You shielded your eyes for a brief moment. But after opening them again, you found yourself back in your bedroom. You walked over to your open door and quietly closed it, sinking to the floor afterwards. There was a lot you needed to process. The blanket that covered you fell to the floor as you ogled at the doll in your hand.

You hugged it tighter than you ever had before.

****

The rest of the day was perfectly quiet, mostly because you did see Lucifer for the rest of it. You cautiously approached Charlie and asked about him. She let you know that her dad told her he needed his privacy today and that no one should worry. Her words didn't comfort you like you hoped they would. Was Lucifer okay? Did this whole ordeal cause him to isolate himself. Did he change his mind about it? Your heart sunk at the thought. You needed to talk to him again, but you weren't sure you could face him. But...there was another option.

Later that night, you threw on your robe to get ready for a nice long bath. After the day you had, you needed it. You glanced over at the little stuffed doll sitting on your night stand, now hearing your own heartbeat in your ears. It was now or never; you wouldn't let your nerves get the better of you anymore. You took a hold of it and sat down on your bed, now extra aware of your hand movements.

"Lucifer, can you hear me?" You asked. There was no response. "I guess that was a stupid question. Hey, umm, I wanted to thank you. For today, I mean. I was so afraid that this situation would sully our friendship so badly that you'd never want to talk to me again. I hope you're doing alright. And I hope Keekee's teeth didn't hurt you too badly. I'm rambling now, aren't I?" In that moment, you could almost hear Lucifer's laugh.

The grip on you had on it tightened ever so slightly as you gathered the courage for what you really wanted to say. "You were right before. When you thought I had more to say to you. I-I did. But I didn't know how you would take it if I ever told you. I was afraid of your reaction. And your rejection. But...I don't have the strength to tell you in person." You brought the doll closer to your face, your lips ghosting over the fabric. "I love you," you whispered before planting a small peck to its small cheek.

Silence.

Your breath heaved slightly before setting the doll back down. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It was done. There was nothing more you can do. You stood up and headed straight for the tub. You needed that bath now more than ever.

Knock knock knock

You froze in place for a few seconds, a little bit frightened by the sudden noise that emanated from your bedroom door.

Knock knock knock knock knock

The knocking on the door became more eager. You hurried over to answer after waiting a little too long to answer. Silently, you opened the door.

Lucifer was standing there in the hallway with the brightest smile.

"I love you too. I only wish you would have told me sooner," the ruler of Hell whispered as he gripped your hands. "Because then I could have done this!"

With little warning, Lucifer brought his lips to yours. You sat there in shock, eyes wide, before quickly succumbing to his temptations. You let your eyes lids fall as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his hands found your waist. A delicate kiss to your soft lips, over and over he lightly parted his own as he continuously nipped at you. He pulled away, staring back with his half-lidded eyes. You could have sworn he was drunk of the kiss the way his face formed into a goofy grin. He giggled just a little before widening his eyes in shock and stepping away.

"I'm sorry! I don't know how I keep catching you at the worst times!" he exclaimed now looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. You realized what had caused him to get so flustered. You looked down and remembered that you were in your robe.

And only your robe.

You blushed hard, not being able to stop yourself from laughing. "No, no, it's okay! This one's on me, I shouldn't have called you dressed like this."

"But you didn't know I was going to pop over here! My fault, I don't wanna hear any 'buts'!" Lucifer turned his head to the side still doing his best not to look at you.

"Well, I was just getting ready for a bath..." you began.

"O-Oh, yeah, of course! No worries! I really should have thought this through, I just got really excited and I...Anyway! We can talk about this tomorrow! So, I'll just be-"

"My bath is big enough for two." You blurted out without thinking.

At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. What was only a few moments felt like an eternity of silence. Your first instinct was to shut the door and lock it as fast as possible, but your body refused to budge. You just stood there horrified at the words that had escaped your mouth.

Lucifer wasn't faring much better. You watched his whole face turn a bright yellow that spread rapidly over his painted cheeks. And...was he shaking?

"I don't know why I said that," you mumbled almost incoherently. "if you need me, I'll be drowning myself now." You began to close the door before Lucifer caught it.

"I don't want you to drown," he spoke softly with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I better stay to make sure you're safe."

His words shot threw you like an arrow and your body instinctively opened the door once more to let your visitor in. The implications of his acceptance of your accidental offer crashed over you as soon as Lucifer closed the door behind him. He gave you a sheepish smile, his face's yellow tint had yet to rescind.

"I-I'll uhh, I'll draw the bath then," you squeaked and scurried over to the bathroom without another word. You tossed a towel for him onto your bed and hid yourself in the next room as the water began to fill the tub. You felt as though you could pass out at any moment; the crushing anxiety mixed with your burning desire to be as close to him as physically possible was a terrifying yet tantalizing feeling. To counter your worry, you grabbed some bottled soap from the counter and mixed it in with the steaming water, creating thousands of little white bubbles that threatened to spill over onto the floor. You would worry about any mess made later; right now, you wanted to savor this moment as much as you possibly could. Disrobing, you stepped into the now full tub and sunk down into the soothing water. Your heart was still beating a mile a minute but the water did half a sort of calming effect on you.

Knock knock knock

Well, that didn't last long.

"May I join you now?" Lucifer's muffled voiced called out.

A few quick deep breaths later, you cleared your throat, praying your voice wouldn't reveal how utterly stressed you were. "Y-Yes, come in!" Perhaps a poor choice of words, but you didn't have time to think about that when you caught your first glimpse of a nearly naked Lucifer. His alabaster skin looked as if he had been carved from the finest marble, his shoulders were broad compared to his relatively slim physique. Your eyes trailed to his blackened arms and hands that perfectly contrasted the rest of his skin. He was the epitome of perfection. The man closed the door behind him and made his way over to you.

"H-Hi," Lucifer stuttered.

"Heeeyyyyy there..." you rolled your eyes. "Listen, we can agree this is just a little awkward, right?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit. How's the water?"

"Join me and see for yourself! I'll just umm..." you turned your head and covered the side of your face with your hand, assuring you wouldn't see anything once he removed his towel.

"I'm not shy, hon." You just knew if you turned around, he would have the most prideful smirk on his face.

"You should get in before I change my mind," you playfully shot back.

You heard his towel hit the floor immediately. A fiery heat burned your core as the water shifted when he made his way in the tub. You closed your eyes for good measure so that you wouldn't be tempted to make this even more awkward than it already was. As soon as the water stopped moving, you took that as a sign that it was safe to look again. You turned your head to see Lucifer was sitting back against the other side playfully running his hands through the soapy bubbles that were floating on the surface.

"I love the bubbles, a very nice touch!" he commented.

"Thanks," you murmured. "You're sitting the wrong way though."

"Huh?"

"W-Well," you cleared your throat, "how am I supposed to clean you if you’re sitting so far away?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, you're right!" Lucifer quickly spun his body around, his back now facing you. You spread your legs wider for him to scoot up closer to you, but he remained closer to the center of the tub. "Is this better?"

"Still a little too far..." The time for embarrassment had long gone. You grabbed a hold of Lucifer's hips and brought his body nearly flush between your thighs, earning a yelp from the startled angel. "What happened to not being shy, hmm?" you taunted. You could have sworn a little whimper escaped his throat.

Despite its frigid appearance, his body was warmer than you expected. You didn't let your hands linger on his waist for too long nor did you want to think about how his ass was mere inches away from your yearning womanhood. You forced yourself out of the trance and instead grabbed the washcloth and body soap from the small table and began to pour some of the liquid into the small towel, rubbing it between your fingers. "You promise to tell me if this becomes too much?"

Lucifer turned his head with a soft look on his face. "I promise that it won't be." You hummed, slowly bringing the cloth to his skin. He shuddered from the contact.

"Are you alright, Lucifer?"

He exhaled deeply. "I'm alright. More than alright! I'm just...really enjoying this. Thank you..."

You didn't waist anymore time scrubbing the rest of his back clean. Moving to his shoulders, down each arms, then reaching around the front to get to his chest. Without realizing, your head found its way to one of his shoulders, your chin resting comfortably. A soft sigh left your lips.

"Hey, uhh, y-you're going a little low there..." Lucifer said, his voice snapping you out of your haze. Your hand somehow drifted below the water and ended up resting on his lower stomach. Once you realized where you were heading, you pulled your arms away immediately.

"Sorry!" you nearly shouted. "I-I wasn't paying attention! Shit, I'm sorry!"

Lucifer shifted again, now facing you and gave you a small peck. "Sweetheart, it's alright, really! You don't need to apologize." Lucifer took the rag from your hand and made his way back to where he first started against the other side of the tub. "Here, let me return the favor. It's your turn now." With mild hesitation, you accepted his help wordlessly, turning your back to him as he did for you. Afraid of getting any closer, you stopped before any noticeable contact had been made. "I need you closer, dear," he whispered in your ear before pulling you against his chest with minimal effort.

You felt everything in that moment; his hands resting on your hips, his hot breath against your sensitive skin, and most distracting of all, his very noticeable hard on against the small of your back. It took everything you had to not scream like you wanted to. Knowing that this perfect creator was turned on by you made your heart flutter like a butterfly. Your body begged your to shift, if only a little bit, just to feel him rub against you. But you fought it against it furiously, digging your finger into the sides of his thighs to keep yourself grounded. The way your body tensed caused Lucifer to push you away from him slightly.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned that he may have crossed a line.

"No." you shook your head. You pushed yourself back against him, the friction sending a shiver up your spine. The low moan from Lucifer was magical, almost hypnotic. You needed to hear more. But before you could shift again, you felt the soft texture of the washcloth against your back.

"Good," his voice causing goosebumps to form on your arms, "now let's get you clean." He mimicked your movements, gliding the cloth against your soft skin, starting from the top and working his way down methodically. He moved to your shoulders, first the left and the right. Every muscle in your body just wanted to relax into him; you only wanted to float in this water with him for the rest of the night. But you were snapped out of your daydream when you noticed his movements had stopped. You looked down and saw his hand resting on your collarbone. It took only a moment to realize why the devil himself became a statue.

Lucifer swallowed hard behind you. "Am I allowed to...can I...?"

With a small giggle, you took the cloth from his hand and tossed it to the ground. Pulling your hands out of the water, you guided his own hands to your breasts. Lucifer gasped lightly but didn't pull away once your released his hands. His claws felt so nice on your bare skin that you let out a gasp of your own. "I think we're past the point of modesty, Lucifer. Go ahead, I-I want you to touch me."

Your permission was all he needed. Within a second, the king of Hell began to massage your breasts with the most delicate of touches, kneading them like fresh dough. His mouth sank down onto your pulse, sucking on it feverishly. A small whimper escaped your throat as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers. The man was intoxicated and you were the cause.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" he breathed against your skin. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you how beautiful you are? How enchanting? How irresistible?" One of his hands made its way down your side to your hip, sinking beneath the water and resting on your inner thigh. "To hold you like this is a dream come true."

"Lucifer, please..." you begged. Your hand found his once more and guided it down to where you needed him most. Once his fingers reached your folds, you couldn't help but whimper. In no time, he began circling your clit gingerly while his other hand worked at your breast. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You opened your legs as wide as your tub would allow to give him more access to your needy hole.

"Tell me what you want, love," he whispered in your ear. "Just say the word and it's yours."

"Touch me..." you pleaded.

You felt a finger slip into you effortlessly, a broken moan falling from your lips. You turned your head and crashed your lips into his, your desire for him only growing with every passing second. Another one of his fingers slid into you, his digits gliding in and out of your pussy with ease. He moaned into your mouth as he continued to pump his digits into your cunt, his pace increasing slowly with every movement.

"Need more of you..." he pleaded. "Please..." His fingers refused to let up. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter. You cried out in pure elation when you felt the coil finally give way, cumming hard and pulsing around his fingers that had yet to slow down. Once you could breathe normally against, he at last retreated his fingers from you, giving you a small peck on your forehead.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled out. "I think we're both pretty clean now, wouldn't you say."

"I'd say your right," Lucifer agreed. In a flash, Lucifer managed to stand up and scoop you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up and set you down on the bathroom floor, retrieving a towel from the nearby rack and sliding it up and down your body before using it on himself. "But I think this is all for naught," he continued as he guided you back to your bed, "because I think we may need another bath, I'm afraid."

He laid you down and quickly shoved his heads between your legs. You realized what he was about to do and sat up before he could go any further. "Wait, wait, hold on now!" Lucifer's eyes looked back at you with concern. "I don't think this is fair! What about you? I haven't even touched you yet!"

Lucifer gaze softened. "Oh, hon, I appreciate it but you don't have to worry about me! I-I'm fine, really! I just...I really need to taste you... Please, I'll do anything!"

You closed your legs and folded your arms over your chest, earning a tiny whimper from the man in front of you. "I seem to recall that I could have anything I wanted," you teased. Lucifer nodded and stuck out his lower lip to pout. You rolled your eyes and smiled, crawling over to him. "I have an idea. But you need to lay down for me. Can you do that?"

He did as you said almost instantly, his head hitting the back of the pillows with a soft thud. At this point you couldn't help but stare at his twitching cock. It was beautiful; thicker and longer than you might have expected from someone of his stature. Not that you would ever complain. You had to hold yourself back from letting out a whine that threatened to make you sound even more pathetic. You closed your eyes and crawled over the devil beneath you. You leaned down to kiss him again, his tongue not holding back from pushing through your lips and entangling it with yours. You pulled away and smiled unabashedly at him, admiring his perfect face and his insanely adorable blush. Without a word, you turned your body so your pussy hovered inches away from his mouth.

"S-Shit..." you heard Lucifer mutter under his breath. Knowing you had this much of an effect on him gave you the confidence you needed to grab ahold of his aching member. Lucifer couldn't help but cry out.

"This way we both get what we want," you told him before giving his tip a tiny little kitten lick. The precum from his shaft had already begun spilling onto your hand; you couldn't help but grin. "Someone is needyyyyYYYY F-FUCK!"

Lucifer pulled your hips down onto his face without warning, his tongue working at your slick cunt like a man starved. HIs claws dug into the sides of your body, the pain mixing with the undeniable pleasure his mouth gave you. Not to be outdone, you sunk your mouth down on his cock, licking and sucking at the tip. Lucifer moaned into your pussy at the feeling of your tongue. Both of your lust-filled sounds filled your room as you each sought to bring the other to their climax. You wouldn't let him win. You couldn't.

Your head bobbed up and down his girthy shaft over and over, taking in as much of him as you could. But with your growing pace came Lucifer's own counter move as his forked tongue pushed even further into you than you thought possible. You were both coming undone impossibly fast. Even with your head fuzzy from the tantalizing feeling of his mouth, your hand and mouth worked together in tandem to push him over the edge. Lucifer cursed against your skin as you felt his hot cum finally fill your waiting mouth. But it only took him a few seconds more to bring you to another orgasm after he begun to tease your clit over and over and over, refusing to give you any sort of reprieve.

You swallowed as much of his as you could before letting go of his cock with a satisfying pop with some of his release dripping down towards your chin. You wiped your fingers against the remains and made sure he watched as you licked them clean. Something in Lucifer must have snapped because the next thing you knew, you had been flipped down onto the mattress with your wrists pinned at your sides. You blinked and stared up into Lucifer now glowing red eyes; his. His demonic horns had burst from his temple, his angelic wings appeared and began flapping behind him, and his tail whipped back and forth before coiling itself around your waist. You gulped, your pussy begging to be filled by the man above you.

"Sorry," Lucifer apologized. "I got a little too excited there." He freed your hands and brought them down to your hips. "D-Do you want to keep going? We can stop if this is too much and-"

You cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips. "It's alright, Luci. I want this. I want you."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you again, stroking his still hard cock in the process. When he pulled away, you felt the tip graze your slick folds. That feeling alone was enough to make you shudder with anticipation. With final nod from you, Lucifer at last began to sink into you. You winced at the pain you felt as your body forced itself to stretch for him until he finally bottomed out inside of you. The pain slowly faded as he waited patiently, smiling at you the entire time.

"Y-You can move now," you squeaked out.

Lucifer nodded, shifting his hips just enough to pull out of you almost all the way before thrusting back in, earning a wanton moan from you. He started slow for you, knowing his size was a bit much to handle. But as your body relaxed, his picked up the pace. Faster and faster until both of you were complete and utter moaning messes.

"F-Fuck...feel so good, love," Lucifer sighed as his wings began to twitch. "S-So good. So perfect...I'm really happy y-you made that doll. I-I know everything didn't go exactly as planned but...GAAHHH FFFFUCK...I think it all turned out f-for the better, don't you think?"

Your moans turned into giggles as he continued to rut into you relentlessly. "You're s-such a dork," you laughed as your legs wrapped around him to force him to keep him as deep inside you as possible.

"B-But I'm your dork," he joked back. "Sorry love, but you're stuck with m-me now!"

"G-Good," you responded breathlessly, his hips thrusting into you even faster than before. "Then we c-can be dorks together!"

"P-Perfect!" Your cunt sucked in his cock as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. By the noises he was making, you can only assume Lucifer was almost at his limit too. "Darling...c-can't...I'm close...f-fuck...where-"

"Inside!" you screamed. "FuckfuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!" Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your wanton cries echoing off the corners of your room. It only took a few more thrusts for Lucifer to follow suit and spill his seed inside of you, his cum painting your walls a pearlescent white was he pulled you in close for another passionate kiss.

The king crashed on top of you after pulling out of you, his unearthly features retreating except for his tail which remained firmly wrapped around you. You smiled as he laid his head on your chest, his breathing labored and shaky. You stroked his soft blond hair as he hummed in approval. He looked up at you with adoring eyes and stuck out his snake-like tongue.

"What's that look for?" you asked him.

"Oh nothing," Lucifer sighed, "I'm just looking at the prettiest woman in all of Hell is all!"

You pushed his face away and laughed. "Yep, still a dork."

"But you love me!" he said gleefully, rolling onto the bed and pulling you into a tight embrace.

"I do, I really do. I wish I would have told you sooner."

Lucifer kissed the top of your forehead. "Don't worry, hon, I know now. And that's all that matters. Besides, I finally get to hold you now! And wow, does it feel like heaven!"

You buried your face in his chest and squeezed him tight. "Well, I can say for certain that you feel much better than the doll. Would you...like to stay over tonight?"

"Of course I would love," he spoke softly. "I have you in my arms now, and I don't intend on ever letting you go."

~~~~

THIS TOOK WAY TOO FUCKING LONG, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj

@bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps

@ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @pvppybun

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#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #my writing #FUCK ME WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG #ENJOY!!!

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aealzx · 1 month ago

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Update Post

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

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Despite not being comatose anymore, Danny’s health still wasn’t the greatest. After getting introductions for who everyone was they had started to explain to him what had happened. Only for him to fall asleep again before they got very far. After being assured by Bruce and Leslie that it was normal for those who had been in a coma to not be able to stay awake very long in the beginning, the others had found ways to entertain themselves while letting him rest more. When he woke up again hours later they let him orient himself again before trying to pick up where they’d left off. They had to repeat the same sequence again two more times before they got through the entire two months worth of events.

The hardest part of catching Danny up on everything had been admitting they didn’t know what had happened to Maddie and Jack. During the third time of being awake Danny had asked where they were, being confused why they hadn’t shown up to see him yet despite everything. And when Jazz had finally admitted it was because they weren’t there, and they didn’t even know if they were okay, Danny had panicked slightly. If he’d been in better health Jazz knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop him from running out into the city to try and find them himself. Yet at this point he couldn’t even push himself upright without help, and changing forms or even floating seemed impossible. Which had left him collapsed in Jazz’s lap, sobbing, “You don’t get it, Jazz! None of this matters at ALL if the people I care about aren’t alive! That includes mom and dad! None of this matters if they’re not okay too!”

Jazz knew that Danny really only fought to keep certain people happy. He’d protect everyone, sure. But the reason he kept going, the only real motivation he had for throwing himself in harm's way all the time, was to protect his friends and family. He did a lot of crazy heroic things, but he didn’t want to be some big time famous hero like she had learned Batman and Superman were. It was hard to not be able to tell him that he hadn’t failed. Only Sam, Tucker, and Danielle had been able to get him to calm down by reminding him how resilient Jack and Maddie were. Despite all the fights they got in, it was very rare that those two got hurt. So odds were they were still just fine after this disaster too. It had been enough to calm him down at least enough to stop crying, and allow himself to rest more. But his words still rang in Jazz’s head the next day.

Throughout the days Leslie was present more, checking Danny’s vitals, drawing a little more blood for another panel, bringing him room temperature water to sip in the afternoon. She strangely didn’t try to get Danny to eat anything until the next day. When Jazz asked about it Leslie had explained that while Danny definitely needed to eat again, there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to handle it just yet. While the cryo stasis had helped him not deteriorate as much as anyone else would have over a two month coma, he still had. He was underweight, malnourished, and easily fatigued. And that included his digestive system. She tried to help by giving Danny another vitamin IV with a slightly different formula. But even with that the first time she’d let him try eating two plain crackers he’d ended up throwing up less than an hour later.

That was when Bruce happened to come check on them. With the biggest hurdles for now having been taken care of, most of his kids had gone back to their own homes, as they usually did. It was hard to keep them around for more than a few days, and while there was still the task of getting these displaced kids back home they all knew that could wait until Danny was feeling better. Especially after learning through bits and pieces of information that there was a government team back there that would just love to hunt him down the first chance they got. So with Duke and Damian currently at school that left the house rather empty, and Bruce found himself taking charge of checking on their visitors. He had learned a lot about them in the past two days. The kids were obviously used to helping patch Danny back up, without the help of any adults. But they still relied on Danny being okay to feel secure. Danny was the one that protected them. Danny was the one they relied on being okay to judge whether or not everything else was okay. When Danny was cracking jokes the others were at ease. But when Danny couldn’t force himself to reassure them, there was a harsh spike in their anxiety. And usually Jazz was the one that took charge, trying to keep them all calm and reassured.

It was an unfair, but understandable situation that didn’t allow for Danny to truly rest. And that was what motivated Bruce to enter the room and approach the kids this time, stopping by the connected bathroom to grab a soft towel first. Jazz was once again the only one sitting on the bed while the other three hovered nearby, waiting to be directed. Her hands were on Danny’s back and arm as he was curled over the bucket Leslie had made sure was left just in case, coughing and half heaving despite there being nothing left in his stomach. Bruce couldn’t imagine how much stress it must be to have an audience, so decided the first thing he’d do would be to get the others to disperse. When he raised his hand to Tucker’s shoulder he couldn’t blame Tucker for jumping in startle.

“D’dude! You scared me,” Tucker protested shakily.

“He’ll be alright,” Bruce chose to assure instead of apologizing for inevitably sneaking up on the kids. “Can you three go work with Alfred to find a change of clothes and bedding?”

The three almost jumped on being given something to do, a series of affirmatives before they scurried from the room. Bruce sent Alfred a text to request he keep the three of them occupied for a while then knelt down next to the bed and offered the towel to Danny. It seemed his stomach had decided to stop throwing a fit for now, and as Danny took the towel and buried his face in it Bruce relocated the bucket to the nightstand. He didn’t need to wipe his entire face, but from that angle Bruce hadn’t missed the tears, and realized Danny was hiding.

“Jazz, can you join the others?” Bruce requested on Danny’s behalf. “And find Leslie to help waterproof his injuries so he can have a bath?” Not only would that give Danny some time away from the others, but he actually really needed one too. A fact Bruce realized when he’d reached up to help pull Danny’s hair out of his face. He’d probably feel a little better after getting fully cleaned up for once too.

Jazz seemed reluctant to leave, but at least seemed to know when her presence was a detriment more than comfort. She knew her brother well, and after leaning down to give Danny a peck on the head and whisper a quick ‘I love you’ she headed out the door.

“...Am I even allowed to have a bath?” Danny’s question came after he was sure Jazz was gone, raising his head and looking and sounding as miserable and pathetic as he probably felt.

“Of course you are,” Bruce assured, using his thumb to brush away another tear that escaped when Danny blinked. “We’ll just have to waterproof your injuries and IV site. But then you should be fine to take one for as long as you want.”

“...Really?”

“Yes.”

The idea of getting some time to himself was welcomed, but after realizing what he was thinking Danny’s expression crumpled again, and Bruce had to raise a little to catch him as we swayed. He was a little surprised when Danny actually curled into him then, his form shaking.

“Sorry,” Danny whimpered, and Bruce couldn’t keep himself from gathering the boy up in a tight hug. “...I’m not okay.”

That sounded like it had been incredibly hard to say, and Bruce had to wonder if it was something someone had been working on with him. He’d heard from Jason that it was relatively recent that Danny’s parents even knew what he was, let alone what he’d been going through. Perhaps one of them had been the one to talk him into letting them know when he wasn’t doing well.

“...I know,” Bruce responded quietly as he moved to sit on the bed and pull Danny into a ball. Everyone knew Danny wasn’t doing well physically. But Bruce knew he wasn’t just talking about that part of his health this time. “You’re going to be okay though.”

It felt good to be held by someone he didn’t have to protect. Someone that he didn’t have to pretend he knew what he was doing for. Act like he was just fine and nothing fazed him. It had been something he had just started getting after his parents got involved with all aspects of his life, and he hadn’t realized how much he would miss it until they weren’t there to give him that comfort. Jazz had a habit of calling out the fact that he was just a kid, but she was too, and couldn’t quite give him what he needed. But Bruce was an adult. And someone who seemed to have also lived through similar injuries. Hearing him say he’d be alright felt like a stated fact instead of just a confident reassurance.

It didn’t take long for Leslie to arrive and expertly shoo Jazz away again to help Alfred with the others. She wasn’t surprised at all to hear that Danny had thrown up, and instead just assured him he was going to be okay, and to think of it like having the stomach flu. The comparison did wonders in helping Danny calm down more, to the point he was only sniffling quietly as she took care of dressing his wounds in a waterproof covering.

“Don’t scrub too hard on the edges of the bandages when you’re washing up, okay?” Leslie directed while rubbing the said edges of the last bandage she was placing around his arm to encase the temporarily detached IV. She’d taken some time to clean the sites that would be covered so Danny would be able to feel completely clean after his bath, and was pleased to see he was healing a lot faster now that he wasn’t in some sort of stasis mode. She wouldn’t be surprised if his wounds were completely healed by the end of next week at this rate.

Danny gave a small hum in acknowledgement, understanding that he couldn’t break the seal if the bandages were going to work properly. The desire for an actual bath was strong enough that he was willing to comply with their conditions, even if it meant he had to have Bruce in the bathroom with him, just in case. It made sense considering he couldn’t go to the toilet on his own just yet, but at least Bruce had promised to stay facing towards the door as long as he could. He also had his phone with him to work on his own projects, so wouldn’t even try to get Danny to talk to him.

It was exhausting, but Danny also didn’t realize just how much it would feel good to be clean. To not have his scalp itch, and skin feel like a layer of grime was coating it. And also just to lounge in the warm water, in the silence and almost complete isolation. He was there for a little over an hour - dang fancy rich people's tubs and their ability to keep the water just right - before it became uncomfortably apparent he wasn’t just imagining the aching starting to get worse. Which led him to reluctantly using his foot to nudge the plug out to allow the water to drain and reaching out to knock his hand against Bruce’s shoulder.

“Done already?” Bruce asked easily, glancing over his shoulder halfway.

“Morphine is wearing off,” Danny admitted with a grimace, resting against the side of the tub.

“Ah,” Bruce nodded in unfortunate complete understanding, turning his phone screen off and tucking it into his pocket while grabbing the towel and soft robe to hand to Danny. “Let me know if you need help.”

Danny hummed once again to acknowledge what was said, but stubbornly took care of at least getting the bathrobe on himself on his own once the water had drained. Unfortunately he had to ask for help to get out of the tub, still too weak to lift himself up or stand. But Bruce didn’t react differently towards this than if Danny had simply asked for help opening a jar or something. It was nice.

Alfred had already brought a pair of soft pajama pants and fluffy socks when he’d returned to change the bedding as well. And once Danny was dressed Bruce had carried him back to the edge of the bed where Leslie could double check that the bandages had worked, get the IV reattached and another dose of morphine going. He found he was so worn out from the simple task, but also found that once the morphine did its job taking away the aches and pain he did feel a lot better than before. Enough that Duke pausing in the doorway while returning home from school didn’t make him feel too wary.

“Oh- First post injury bath?” Duke asked, pointing a finger at Danny as he noticed the bathrobe on the bed and Danny’s still damp hair. When Bruce nodded, Duke grinned. “Nice! Those always feel amazing somehow. You should take him to the couch next.”

“The couch?” Danny couldn’t help asking. Was it just the family room couch or something different?

“In the study. It’s quiet in there, and being stuck in bed sucks,” Duke explained. “I bet he was actually already planning on taking you there. After living here I came to find out Bruce is actually really good at helping people feel better. Even though he’s not perfect, no one is, he still makes a nice dad-”

“Duke,” Bruce interrupted, a slight scowl hiding his embarrassment. “Make sure you have enough time to finish your homework before patrol.”

Other people may have been put off by the glower, but Duke just laughed. “Sure sure. I’ll meet you in the study?”

It took Danny a moment to realize Duke was talking to him, and couldn’t keep his shoulders from drooping. He didn’t really want to entertain people yet, he was already feeling physically drained on top of emotionally.

Surprisingly Duke picked up on the mood easily. “I’ll keep quiet. Promise. But trust me when I say it’s really nice,” he offered, easily picking up Danny’s anti-social vibes.

“...Sure. We can try,” Danny accepted, figuring he could at least attempt the idea since Duke didn’t seem to want to spend the time talking.

It was just a few more minutes for Leslie to finish giving him another routine checkup and add an anti nausea patch behind his ear before allowing Bruce to pick him up again. Danny inevitably felt tiny as Bruce was able to carry him with just one arm, leaving the other free to bring the IV pole with them. But he found he didn’t mind. It had only been two days of him being awake in that bedroom, but Danny found getting to leave the room was nice. The study was quite a ways down the hall, and when they reached it Alfred was already there.

“I’ve provided the usual snacks for Master Duke and Master Damian. There’s also a thermos of warm broth that Dr. Thompkins has approved for Master Danny to try if he’s up for it. I will continue to keep the rest of the children occupied until supper,” Alfred informed, bringing their attention to the mentioned food on the low table in front of the very plush couch.

“Thank you Alfred,” Bruce responded simply, heading further in the room to get settled.

There was a fire crackling gently in the fireplace, keeping the room pleasantly warm despite the autumn chill outside. There was already a slight frost on the windows, but the glass was the only thing that reflected that cold. All the colors of the room were warm, and the faux fur blanket Bruce grabbed to help bundle Danny up in only increased the cozy feeling the room had. It was quiet, as Duke had said, and comfortable. Even when Duke and Damian joined them to work on their homework they rarely spoke. And when they did it was in low voices, and to each other about their homework or school day.

Danny had accepted being brought there with the thought that he’d have to end up asking to go back to the bedroom later. But after having spent some time quietly looking around the room his gaze had settled on watching the fire. And slowly the crackle of the wood, soft scratch of pens and pencils, rustling of paper and quiet taps of technology muddled into a soft haze. Eventually Danny’s eyes drooped closed as the soft sounds and comforting warmth became a lullaby coaxing him to sleep.

Duke was right. The couch was pretty nice.

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This entire chapter was unplanned X'DD but I ain't complaining.

Bruce was as hard to draw as Dick was 8 | my art style is too cute coded for these rugged american comic characters.

Also I am extremely distracted translating a manga that not available in english just so I can know the story |D updates might be a little slower.

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Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @megacharizardx99

@bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai,

@fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics,

@honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl,

@op-sys-chaos, @kirasigncomics, @ehobep, @paranoid-ira

#my art #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #phantom rogues #long post #writing #fanfic #tw medical devices #injury #tw vomit

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sleepingelvhen · 10 months ago

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Imagine Sunday having a 10-step hair care routine because you don't get fluffy hair like that without putting the effort in. It's probably super soft to touch, maybe a bit feathery layered beneath because of his wings.

A soft scent of lavender accompanies him, the smell attached to his shampoo, conditioner, and lotion. It's relaxing not only to him but also to those he meets.

Sunday and his super soft skin.

Always neatly groomed, nearly obsessive with how he presents himself. No hair out of place, his suit impeccably neat and ironed.

He would probably expect such presentations from his partner as well. He represents The Family, the head representative, his partner's appearance, and actions reflect onto him.

Sunday would help you keep good appearances. He would brush your hair for you, fix up your clothes to keep them wrinkle free and perfect, all while sneaking in softly spoken praises.

And when you're out with him, he wants you to stay close. The Dreamscape isn't dangerous, but he wants you to stay by him....just in case. He guides you around with his hand against your back. Protective and the only amount of affection he'd show in public.

But imagine how he is in private. Making up for the kisses he wasn't able to give you during the day, still keeping you close, but this time holding you against him in a possessive hug. Sunday tries so hard not to be too over the top in affection, he likes having the facade of calm. But he also wants you to know how much he feels for you, how it drives him mad.

You'd share a room with him. He'd keep you in his sights always, hiding the fact that the thought of losing you drives him crazy with anxiety. He'd cuddle you till you were asleep, arms wrapped tightly around you, lips against your neck as he listens to your breath, reminding himself that you're alive and you're safe and you're his.

Little gifts will often find their way in your possession. Especially lovely necklaces or even collars that he has handmade. Sunday insists that you wear them, playing the disappointed lover if you don't, tugging at your feelings until you relent and finally wear them. How beautiful you look wearing them, how lovely knowing your neck is adorned with gifts from him and no one else.

More of these coming soon in NSFW form because I love Sunday so much.

#honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #hsr headcanons #hsr x reader #hsr sunday x reader #sunday x reader #hsr sunday #reader imagine #hsr imagines

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creelkobblelaufeyson69 · 8 months ago

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Three times

Warnings: smut (cause I’ve got daddy issues)

Note: this is consensual, don’t worry!

She was waiting for family to return to their big house. She had found herself being the house sitter while her mom, dad, and brothers go out to eat. It was a new house as well, and she knew that this place was haunted before even finding out it could potentially be

A nice house like this suddenly on the market? That seemed way too good to be true. She was happy though that she was only helping her family move into the place, and could leave soon. She didn’t have a good relationship with her parents, but what lured her into helping was how it gave off a feeling to her that she couldn’t describe

She’s been wanting to go into the attic since she’s arrived as well. She hadn’t had a clue what could be drawing her attention like this, but she didn’t want to find out. She thought it would be a safer option to stay away from the attic

Adam and Barbara didn’t want to scare her off already, because she seemed much more chill than her family members. But they also didn’t want to scare the young boys. Barbara didn’t think summoning Beetlejuice was a good idea either for this job

But luckily for the couple, Beetlejuice has other plans. He’s seen what the eldest daughter looked like, and has definitely taken a liking in her. He knew he didn’t have much time to be alone with her in the house either. He was determined to get her up in the attic as well, so he just waits in the model for her to come in

It was getting later in the afternoon, and her family still hadn’t returned yet. At this point out of pure boredom and curiosity, she finally goes upstairs. Once she reaches the attic door, she takes out the key that opens any door in the house that was meant to be given to her father

But she couldn’t see herself letting the keys go. She easily unlocked the attic door, because Adam and Barbra were currently talking to Juno. Beetlejuice had noticed she was inside of the attic now, and smirks

“Hey, over here!” He calls her over, which makes her look directly at him. She crouches down to be at his level, which makes him feel a certain way. Whatever strong connection she felt was definitely present, and now she’s realizing it’s him who she was having a strong connection to

“My, you’re a handsome little fella” she says confidently, which makes him smirk. “I can grow bigger if you’d want me too. You just gotta say my name three times” he flirts, which makes her blush

“I’ve never had sex with a dead person before” she admits, which makes him smirk. “Well there’s a first time for everything, right?” She nods her head, and then asked what his name was. Soon a sign shows up pointing towards his head with his name on it three times

“Beetlejuice” she starts, which makes him continue to smirk. “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice” he had vanished from the model of the town. She looks confused, until she heard a record playing in the background. She follows where the music lead her to, and found herself in the guest bedroom she’s currently staying in

When she enters, the bed had dead rose petals around it. A sexual song played on the record, and the lights were off. But Beetlejuice wasn’t in the room. Confused by the random disappearance, she was about to leave until the door slams shut on her

“You know, it’s been a while since I’ve fucked someone who’s living” he says out of nowhere, which makes her look at him. He was lying naked on the guest bed, which took her by surprise. “And fallen for someone who’s alive as well” she walks over towards her bed, with every intent of letting him claim her

Her clothes come off of her now, and she now laid underneath him. He kisses her on her lips, which makes her return the kiss. His hand goes down to her pussy, and he felt how wet she was for him. He pulls apart now, and grins. “You’re all wet for a dead guy. How exotic” he says as he places his hand back onto the comforter

Without any more waiting, he goes into her. Her hands intertwined with his as her head arches back. A moan left her now as he begins to thrust at an abnormal speed. The bed was squeaking as his lips attack her neck with hickeys

“Bee” she moans out, which makes him amused by the nickname given to him. He moans loudly, which made her happy that she was the only one in the house. She came all over him, without any warning. He stops, and pulls out of her

She was tired already, but he had just gotten started. He lowers himself to be facing her pussy now, and begins to lick her. Her legs comfortably wrapped around him as his tongue begins to vibrate against her

She was shocked by the action, but then remembered she was being fucked by a ghost. He continues to lick her with his tongue vibrating, which drove her to her second orgasm. Satisfied with her coming a second time, he stops

She now didn’t care that she was sleepy, and needed more pleasure now. He comes back to laying on top of her, and makes her look at him now. “I’m gonna fuck you harder this time, okay?” She simply nods her head, and soon he was back in her

His thrusting the same pace, but his cock was vibrating this time. She came already with moaning the nickname she had given him, which makes him also let himself come this time. She had to wait a while before he came in her. He gets out of her, and laid down next to her

Unaware how much time had passed, her thoughts were on her family. His thoughts were on how wonderful that experience was, and wished she could stay longer. But then a brilliant idea came to his head if he wanted to leave the afterlife

Clothes appeared on him, and now he’s standing. Her attention was definitely on him now. She sits up to see where this was going. “I need to tell you something very important” he started, which makes them slightly nervous about where this was going

“I-“ the phone goes off in the background, which throws her off guard. Clothes reappeared onto her as she stands up. “Just one second” she goes downstairs, with him following along. When she got to the phone, she picks it up from its holder and places it close to her ear

She wasn’t expecting a phone call, or a phone call to inform her that her family was dead. She went as pale as he was, and felt like fainting. The cause of death was unknown, but now this place had no owner again. She placed the phone back to end the call. “What were you gonna say, Bee?” She asked as tears came rolling down her cheeks

“Well it depends, what just happened?” She explained to him what had happened. A twinge of guilt sneaks into him, but he needed to leave the afterlife somehow. “I need to get married to leave the afterlife” he said casually after what she told him. She thought that was an excellent way to get her mind off of the horrid news

She smiles as tears continue to leave her eyes. He seemed shocked by her reaction, but smiles as well. “Let’s get married then” she says as she now wipes her tears away. Before anything actually happened, Adam and Barbra stood there in shock. She looks at the couple, and so does Beetlejuice

“Oh hello! You two must be the couple that died here originally” she says, which makes the couple more shocked. “Jeez, you guys act like news doesn’t eventually spread. Especially with something so tragic” then she was reminded about her family members that she lost

She was all alone. She also barely knew Beetlejuice to be considering him apart of this. This marriage thing was clearly just a way to make the two happy in two drastic different ways. Perhaps this is why the strong connection still exists between the two

But even Adam and Barbra feel differently now with the two standing next to each other. “There’s some weird connection here with us” Barbara says, instead of bringing up the marriage that’s gonna happen. She finds herself blush at that, but didn’t even understand this feeling either

This is what made her scared to go to the attic originally, because she knew about the couple being in the house, but no other entity. She thought it was gonna be some awful demon, just waiting in their to take her soul

Her thoughts also keep lingering onto her dead family members. ‘What had happened?’ She wondered. “Oh, that’s just coming from us” Beetlejuice casually says, but she was too focused on this strange mystery of her family. “Ghosts can do that? Even if you haven’t met the person yet?” Adam asks Beetlejuice

“I guess so. Not sure, since you know me pal: I don’t play by the rules of the afterlife. I mean what’s the point? I’m dead for fuck sakes! I shouldn’t have to worry about doing more work in the afterlife as well” Beetlejuice says as his attention goes onto his soon to be wife

He saw the color drain out of her; the likeness of her passing out. Beetlejuice gets her seated onto the couch, which took Adam and Barbra by surprise that he was capable of doing such a nice deed. Sure it was a small thing, but it was a big deal

She started to cry into his shoulder was the two were stated. Adam and Barbara were confused, and worried for her. Beetlejuice looks at the couple, and told the two to fuck off. The couple listens, since the two didn’t want to intrude on anything personal

Beetlejuice seemed to be all the sudden great at comforting people, and was quite surprised by the words coming out of his mouth. “You’ll probably see them again. And they’ll definitely look for you, because not all of us are locked up in one location” she sniffles, and then raises her head to make eye contact with him

She smiles again, and thanked him. The clock struck midnight, and the two had gotten married. After the first kiss, she goes in for seconds. He’s alive, which makes her pull apart. She admires him, and adores his dark blue eyes

“You’re gorgeous Bee” she admits as she continues to admire him. “Thank you” he says as he smiles. A year had passed, and she hadn’t seen him since still being in the house and after her family’s funeral. The two parted ways because he wanted to figure out the world himself

She thought about him everyday, and kept the wedding ring on her finger. She wondered if he kept his on as well, but she had doubts that he would keep his ring on. A new neighbor had just moved in next door. She planned on saying hello to the new neighbor to be on good terms day one

She currently sat on her couch, and was watching something random on the television. A knock on her door makes her get up from her couch. She opens the door to see Beetlejuice. Shocked, she just stood there until one of them said something

He was also stunned to see her face again. He took notice that she still wore her wedding ring. She checked to see if he kept his on, and noticed it was still on. Tears left her eyes as he instinctively kissed her on the lips. She returned the kiss, and soon the door was shut and she was pinned to the wall

Beetlejuice had missed her, and couldn’t stop thinking about her since they parted ways. Even with all the women hitting on him, his heart happily belonged to her

Tags: @stardancerluv

#smut with plot #beetlejuice x reader #smut #Tim Burton #michael keaton

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yan-lorkai · 1 year ago

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*vibrating in excitement for platonic yanderes*

Ok, so I haven't watched black butler in years, imma re-watch it soon tho, so if none of this makes sense it's cause my memories shit and you can just ignore this lol

Anyway, here's my idea/request, Obv platonic yandere Ciel with a young reaper reader (14-16)? Like maybe they meet through Grell who mentors the lil reaper. Or maybe like a young ghost reader, he meets during an investigation or smth.

Your free to pick which one obv, anyway. I hope you are having a wonderful day luv, make sure to eat and stay hydrated!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Lemon, I made you wait a little but I finally finished this request hehe, despite having changed it a little and distorted some historical facts. Funfact: Ouija boards were created in 1891, but for the sake of this fic let's all ignore that Ciel was born in 1875; btw yesterday was his birthday. Congratulations Ciel <33. Also, many people have a hc that his real name has something to do with stars, hence the nickname present in the fic. Having said all that, I hope you enjoy Lemon, I loved writing this! Happy reading everyone!!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere content, spoiler about Ciel's brother in case nobody knows about it, ouija board and some typos probably!

Ciel likes to watch the sky. He likes to watch how the clouds race to overtake each other, he likes to watch the sun dancing alone in its place, twirling its colorful skirt of orange, yellow and pink during the hours that pass until finally the moon takes its place.

Quiet moments like this now, where he just sits in his armchair, his work all done and Sebastian far away, is when he can think about the things he's lost. But also the ones he won. If Sebastian had any knowledge about such thoughts, Ciel would certainly be subjected to his jokes and mockery.

The demon, while bound by the contract, could still make fun of his little master and he knew exactly how to embarrass the young lord. But Sebastian didn't need to know how the boy thinks about his twin brother, his parents, the employees and his childhood friend, Y/n; If they were alive now they would be maybe thirteen or fourteen, just like him and his brother. It was a fateful day, indeed.

The murder, the cult, Ciel hates remembering it, but he doesn't know how to let it all go. He's a child and there's no one he can ask for help - even if there was, perhaps his pride wouldn't allow it. He didn't ask for help when he was kidnapped, he didn't ask for help when he went through countless assassination attempts, nor did he ask for help with difficult tasks that the queen assigned him. He was the Phantomhive heir, the family's leader, he couldn't just simply ask for help.

The count narrows his blue eyes at the brooding darkness that has settled in his office, counting how many grains of sand fall into the hourglass and how long he has left in peace before Sebastian shows up to annoy him.

Maybe fifteen minutes.

With enough time for the boy to put his small plan into action, he pulled a wooden board from one of the drawers and placed it on the table. Ciel, by and large, was not superstitious, but recent events had left him puzzled. Moreover, he had a demon as his butler, a boy with super strength as his gardener, a sniper as his maid, and a soldier as his cook. In any case, he had even encountered death gods.

Therefore, if he suspected that the presence lingering over his shoulders while he worked or the entity hiding his items and making them appear in different places was something to be investigated, then he would investigate until his doubts were cleared. The giggles and whispers were becoming unsettling. Of course, he heard voices, but they were the voices of occultists, screams and cries from when they died at the hands of Sebastian.

But this particular voice was incredibly irritating and almost familiar.

Ciel scanned the wooden surface, wondering if he was a fool for buying it. The boy was almost certain that Sebastian knew about the board, but he decided not to comment; the butler had been rather distant since they returned from London that morning. Ciel didn't mind, quickly reading the rules and holding the pointer in his hands, trying to see something through it.

There was nothing… yet.

Ciel laid the pointer on the board and sighed, placing his fingers on it, ready to start. He hadn't said anything yet, but an aura already seemed to completely envelop his office. Or maybe he was anxious; he couldn't tell.

"Is there anyone there?" Ciel murmured, his firm voice echoing in the silent room.

For several moments, nothing happened. He really didn't expect anything to happen, judging this whole thing as something foolish that only became popular because of the horror stories that circulated in cities. He stared at the board intently, each letter in cursive, every mystical symbol adorning it, waiting for a response that would satisfy him. Impatiently, he repeated the question once more.

"Is there anyone there?" He looked at the pointer and then around. "If there is, give me a sign."

This time, the pointer began to move slowly across the board as if the entity on the other side was drowsy, gliding from one letter to another with a calmness that Ciel himself didn't possess. Ciel watched with intensity, his expression impassive. But inside, a strange feeling took hold of him.

It was real, after all. As real as shinigamis or Sebastian. He stifled another sigh in his throat.

"Who is there?" He asked, the words leaving his lips with determination.

Who behind the veil was tormenting him, holding on to him tightly so as not to be pulled into the forgetfulness of eternal sleep. He put more force on the pointer as if everything depended on the answer he would receive.

The letters came together to form words, and Ciel remained focused, but a hint of skepticism was present in his gaze when the words spelled out a name. Your first and last name.

"Y/N?" He wondered aloud.

Ciel may have lost a lot, but he also gained a lot. He gained another family, gained new friends allies, gained a new chance.

And yet… He hadn't gained you back. Or had he?

For a second, he let the pointer rest on the board, feeling a heavy sensation settle in his chest as he thought about the days when you used to stay by his side when he was bedridden with asthma, telling him your silly stories and jokes, all while holding his hand and looking tenderly at him. You were his best friend. And he missed you a lot.

And now you were here. You were here.

He placed his finger on the pointer again, still feeling doubtful if it was really you or some other spirit. Confidently, he asked something that only you knew. "What was the nickname that only you called me, and why?"

The nickname you used for him when it was just the two of you. Not for his brother, not for Ciel. If it was really you there, you would notice the small differences, as you did when you were alive.

The pointer moved, taking with each movement a beat of the young earl's heart. One by one, the letters formed a nickname forgotten by time and bitter memories of the only Phantomhive still wandering through this tedious world.

"Pleiades, that's what I used to call you." There was a pause, and Ciel felt his entire body trembling with the confirmation that yes, it was you on the other side. He straightened up in his chair, trying to show that he was calm — little did he know that you could perceive how surprised he was.

And you would tease him about it later.

"Just like your hair, they are blue, an optical phenomenon caused by the dispersion of light in the Earth's atmosphere." You explained, nodding as if he could see you. Ciel rolled his eyes but almost unconsciously smiled.

"I see you remain a know-it-all." He teased.

And you stuck your tongue out at him, moving your arms to make the chair he was sitting in slide backward. Ciel's cheeks immediately turned pink as a little yelp escaped his lips. He hadn't expected you to have more tricks up your sleeve, but soon he regained his composure and cleared his throat, watching you move the pointer.

"One of us has to be clever," You chuckled. "Obviously, I'm the smart friend."

Ciel let out a long sigh. "Your knowledge is all random, though."

You shrugged. What importance did any kind of knowledge have now that you were dead? You said nothing for a few minutes, running your fingers over the wood of the board and the supposedly mystical symbols. Being dead was boring, different for everyone, and you weren't even sure how your soul managed to escape the shinigamis for so long.

But you had one certainty; you were stuck in this world for some reason still. In many stories, there would be an unfulfilled desire or a want, and you had several, but you had made peace with the fact that you could no longer fulfill them. So what was still keeping you there?

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Ciel nodded, gesturing with his hand for you to continue.

"Can you free me? Can you invite me out?"

Ciel had already broken some rules, especially the one that said he couldn't play alone and that the player should have a form of spiritual protection, whatever they had faith in — a crucifix, a talisman, anything. Ciel, however, had a mark on his eye, so you assumed that nullified this rule. Did that thing serve as a protective mark, though?

The boy remained silent for some time, seemingly weighing the pros and cons of taking such action. To bind a spirit to himself, to the world of the living, when he knew he should let you rest in peace, when he knew such agreements were dangerous.

But he was still the selfish earl who liked to monopolize your time; he was still that same sickly boy who needed a friend. And no one else could be his friend but you. Only you understood him, after all.

He nodded.

It was foolishness, but not even Sebastian could have stopped him. He pressed the pointer harder, desperate for it to work, but of course, it would work if you were already in front of him, the dead proof that there could be life in death.

"I invite you, Y/n, to leave this board."

A warm feeling flooded your chest, as if your skin were kissed by the sun again after so long. You savored it for a moment, smiling, feeling strangely more alive than before, and withdrew your hand from the pointer.

"Can you see me?" You asked, your voice hoarse from not speaking for months.

But Ciel didn't seem to understand, not yet at least. So you touched his cheek as you did when congratulating him on a chess victory, and he felt it, his eyes widening as he assimilated the situation. You figured that now that you touched him, he could hear you, so you asked the question again.

And slowly, he nodded. You could only imagine what he thought of your bloodstained shirt and disheveled appearance, so different from the one you once proudly preserved. Times change, and so do you, and you were like this now, a lost ghost that not even death seemed to want.

You smiled, squeezing both of his cheeks and watching him shudder. It was good to see him, good to be back, even if nothing would be the same. Nothing could ever be the same again, but being able to touch him again after so long, you didn't hesitate to hug him.

You were together again.

#yandere kuroshitsuji #yandere black butler #yandere ciel phantomhive #yandere ciel #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive x reader #yandere ciel x reader #yandere ciel phantomhive x reader #platonic yandere #mutuals requests

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winterzxsoldierz · 15 days ago

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War Child

Part two, read part one first Bucky Barnes x (Fem) Reader

Warnings: Traumatic flashbacks, hydra, blood, mentions of human experimenting, violence.

Description: You're a hydra experiment or had been since you were young, for years you lived in the cold walls of Siberia and when you finally get free, faces and demons of your past come knocking.

Reader is an enchanted superhuman, she has the super soldier serum giving her, super speed, super strength, a healing factor, fast metabolism, endurance, strong lung capacity & etc, she also has both fire and ice magic. The time line in this will review the past and present.Reader can look anyway you want. Her soon love interest will be Bucky.

Italy (Present, four months later) Your Pov

Rain droplets hit the windows of my apartment, the sound soothing to my racing mind and fast pounding heart as i gather my personal things around my apartment, which isn't a lot, i grab my get away back and gun, i check the clip making sure it's fully loaded and shove it into my jacket pocket once satisfied, i sling the backpack over my shoulder and make my way towards the fire escape, the sounds of loud thudding boots and German orders could be heard outside, my former apartment's door. I'm already out and down the fire escape, when the hydra soldiers knock down the apartment door with force, i'm tempted to look back but i don't, i run, picking up the pace, soon i'm crowded around the busy streets with a ton of people, i didn't need to run, now that i could blend in with the moving civilians, i look around, my eyes moving on every man in view, i glance at the making sure i don't see that god forsaken symbol, i once thought had meaning, but seeing i'm in the clear, a sigh of relief leaves me. It's not long until, i get away and closer toward a public transportation area, i get onto the train with no destination in mind, but i knew Italy was no longer somewhere i could stay. Siberia 1958 (flashback)

"My child, time for another procedure." Zola's voice rings through the intercom, his german accent thick with a dark intent, your cell door opens and one of the hydra soldiers walk in and grabs you by the forearm. you're pushed into the lab and you immediately take a seat on the metal experimenting table, you look around the lab, when suddenly your eyes land on a giant tube in the corner, in it lies a man, you seen him a few times over the past few years, he teaches you how to use weapons, seeing him like that makes something uneasy grow in the pit of your stomach and you can figure out why. "Interesting isn't it?" Zola's voice suddenly was right next to you causing you to flinch, to which he chuckles, he pushes you down on the table and nods to the guards to strap you down, "The machine keeps him alive, and well, until his help is needed again." Zola explains, as he lays down a tray of sharp objects, his eyes meet yours again and a grin appears on his lips as he speaks "You are growing my child, soon we will need you more than you think." he murmurs, while injecting you with something that makes you go numb and physically unfeeling immediately "This will only take a few minutes, don't be afraid." he says, his tone is meant to sound soothing but it sends coldness down your spine. He cuts into the upper side of your right arm and picks up a small chip, he clicks a little button and places the chip under the bloody skin, he then wipes the blood from your skin and he nods towards the guards. The guard nods back pulling something out of a flaming furnace, making the blood in you pump, the tool the guard pulls out is a hot metal rod, with a star embedded on it, the guard wastes no time to place the hot rod on the skin of your arm where you were cut at- The sound of the loud train horn awakens me, i look around panting as sweat trickles down my forehead, Thump...Thump...Thump i hear the sounds of my own heartbeat in my ears, i swallow thickly and wipe at my face, looking around there is barley anyone in the train cart with me, it's a bit eerie, i knew it wouldn't be long until they found me again. "Rain again? great." i think to myself, walking out of the train station, i walk past a few people and drop the small tracking chip into the trash can hoping it'll throw off hydra for a while, digging into my pocket i pull out a map, i had no destination in mind, only survival so i let my feet take me wherever.

Avenger's tower (Present) Avengers pov "Well Italy was a dead end." Tony huffs, and pinches the bridge of his nose, he leans back in his chair, the stress of this was wearing him down. "It was, but it also wasn't, she left in a hurry like she was panicked, her door was kicked in and the place was ransacked, my guess it was hydra." Natasha comments. "She slipped up though, she left behind a notepad." every ones attention turns to Bucky who had been silent this whole time, he sets down the little book for everyone to see, Steve is the first to pick it up and look at the first few pages, it has a few hydra base locations and leader names, Steve looks at Bucky and raises his brow, "You think these are still up and running?" Bucky shrugs in thought "Impossible, it can't be unless they're rebuilding." the conference room is silent, everyone is tense and unsure of what's to come.

Queens, New York. (Present) Your Pov

It had been a few days since i fled from Italy and came all the way to america, it was a big step and risky but, i think it'll throw hydra and whoever else that's looking for me off my trail, i had been trying to find a place to stay in that's warm enough to keep me from freezing to death, but there's only so many places i can go, New York is a big place. Turing into a darkened alleyway, i spot movement from the corner of my eye and i freeze and stand still, and slowly i move my body towards the direction, ready to fight if i have to, but instead there's no fight and just a cat...? my brows furrow and i walk into the direction where the animal is, it's almost as white as the snow on the ground, after approaching the cat i bend down to pat it but then i hear a voice coming into the alley, it's a voice of a young boy who sounds panicked "Oh no, Mr. Bucky is gonna kill me for this, Alpine! Alpine!" Peter calls out, his tone panicked." Peter continues to walk down the alleyway and stops when he sees me with the cat, he stares at me and i stare back, his expression is confused and slowly but surely it turns into recognition and a gasp leave him and he points "Hey y-you i-it's you, the women, you're Y/N the avengers have been looking for you."

i stare at the boy as if he had grown two heads and slowly i back away from the cat, and dart down the alleyway, the boy yells but i don't stand around to listen to him, i'm nearly out the alley but something gets stuck on my foot causing me to trip and hit my chin on the ground.

i ignore the pain and look at my foot and i frown wondering what the heck this sticky stringy stuff is on my foot, i pull some of it of and see the boy approaching me, he speaks while holding his hands in surrender "I-i'm Peter, miss just listen, you're in a lot of trouble, i can get some help." my eyes widen and i burn off the rest of the webs and stand "No, you will get no one, go away child." i tell him as i brush the snow off me.

Peter stands there, a look of determination in his eyes and again he speaks "Let me help you then, my aunt, she can help with the gash on your chin, and it's cold, i promise i won't tell the avengers." I look peter in the eyes, looking for any dishonesty but i find none and i nod slowly "Just to clean my wound nothing more." i tell him firmly. Peter smiles and picks up the cat and leads the way out of the alley and together you and Peter walk down the streets of new york toward his aunt's apartment as he rants to you about Star Wars.

This one is a bit short but, there will be more, i'm gonna have you the reader, befriend peter first before anyone.

@weirdperson-1 here's part two, sorry for the delay

#marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #the avengers #bucky barnes x female reader

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cravingsfromatwistedone · 8 months ago

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Hi, there! :D 🌼

First of all I must say that your blog was one of the first blogs that I discovered and read when I just entered the TWST fandom and I must say that I thought your fics and drawings were great. So seeing that this blog was taking requests again made me excited as you have no ideas. So I won't waste my shot, I'll try to make a request here (I hope I do it right)

Reader: Female. Type: Headcanon or Fic (Romantic). Scenary: Inspired by the fic of the first year boys simping the reader. In this scenario, a boy from another class slowly becomes so close to the reader that he decides to ask her out. She innocently accepted without knowing that the boy wanted to steal a kiss from her on that date. But the first-year boys won't stand by, they'll spy on her date.

I think it would be good angst and comedy material. xD But well that would be my request, if my request does not convince you you can discard it without problems but if not take your time and without pressure. Thank you so much💐💕

LET'S GET SUPER MEAN ! [ HEADCANONS / FLUFF ]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING DARLING! THE WAY YOU REQUESTED IS CORRECT SO NO NEED TO FRET! IT'S SUPER SPECIFIC SO IT HELPS WITH MY WRITING! HOPEFULLY, THIS COMES OUT JUST AS HOW YOU WANTED IT! ENJOY READING, DARLING! TW: NONE! NRC FRESHMEN X FEM! READER

╭───────────────── ╰──➤(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ FLUFF ♥

┊❥ First things first, they, the five of them, are a literal mess. The first person to spread the news to the other four was Ace. The redhead caught a glimpse of you talking to another student who seemed way too giddy for his own. Of course, he had to stay and listen in to the conversation; who knows what trouble you've dug yourself into

┊❥ Ace's jaws turned slack right at the moment you happily accept the date, the other student gleefully thanking you before walking off. Did he heard that right? You're going on a date? With some rando that he or the others didn't even know about? 'This won't do, this can't happen!' is what runs in Ace's head as he scampers back to tell the others

┊❥ The redhead is out of breath the moment he arrives at the designated spot after having call the others on his phone while running. The moment they picked up the phone, he just shouts 'NO TIME TO EXPLAIN! JUST COME OVER! IT'S AN EMERGENCY!!' and hangs up. The desperation and urgency present in his voice is what convinced the others to get moving to the regular hangout

┊❥ Once the five of them had gathered, Jack and Epel had to repeatedly ask Ace to slow down because of how fast he was trying to explain the situation of you going on a date with some guy; the redhead choking on his own spit and breath from watching the incident unfold an hour ago

┊❥ It was only after that Ace (finally taking the time to explain word by word) explained, the other four faces' were drained of colour. Deuce is panicking, Epel is furious, Jack is in denial and Sebek has half the mind to scare off the other guy (or more like, lecture the guy's ears off until he decides to leave you hanging on the said date)

┊❥ They settled on the idea of spying on your date is much more preferable than having to maul the guy alive (there's a chance that you might be upset at them for interfering with your romantic life) so with courage and jealousy in hand, the five of them sought out to set the plan in motion

┊❥ Your date with the close classmate of yours was in the greenhouse, right after the bell for lunch had rung too. The bastard really had to pick such a time because he knew that there weren't that much students hanging around outside of campus in fear of food running out. Luckily, the gang waited and hid among the plants, their eyes following your every move as the both you chat up a storm

┊❥ Sure, they agreed on not interfering with your date but they didn't say anything about one of them sabotaging just a little bit (newsflash, they all lent a hand in sabotaging the date without realizing. Dumbasses.) When the guy wasn't looking, Ace would purposely stick out his feet so the guy would fall head first on to the soil-oh wait, he didn't fell into soil, he fell face first into chicken fertilizer!

┊❥ The male student wretched in disgust when bits of it accumulated in his mouth, feeling embarrassed under your apologetic gaze as you offered up your hand for him. If you listened closely enough, you can hear Epel snickering in one of the bushes nearby. Hoo boy, it gets even worse from there. Jack would make you split up with guy just so Sebek could turn on a dirty water tank on the student, the brown stained water coating him from head to toe

┊❥ The final nail on the coffin was when Deuce made one of the pots break directly on the guy's head (No life threatening injuries, don't worry!), leaving a painful bruise appearing on the centre of his hair. After having to fall flat and even tasting chicken fertilizer, his pristine uniform stained with smelly water and a lump forming on his skull, the male student just had enough; abruptly telling you that he's had enough of the date and storming off without even batting an eye to your confused state

┊❥ Looks like they scored this one, fellas! Don't worry, they'll slip away from the greenhouse and act too smug for their own good while simultaneously trying to play off that they're oblivious to what transpired during the date ! The five of them are likely to do jabs at the poor sod aloud from time to time in the next classes they're in

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the-kr8tor · 3 months ago

Text

By Hook or By Crook

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.2 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), CW guns, CW food mention, CW suggestive, CW blood, TW violence, TW death, TW abuse mention, Wild west AU, Cowboy AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 9 >>> CHAPTER 10

Hobie's nightmares are few and far between now that you sleep beside him. But on the rare occasion that it haunts him, it's always horrific. His own mind betrays him, the fog of a nightmarish scene unfolds like theatre curtains; where you're the star, a bleeding, screaming star of the night. It always starts off with you in place of him. Hicks has you in his iron grip, while his men, men that you've known since you were a little girl taunt you with the same disgusting words they threw at him.

He can never forget how your face contorted into a horrified expression when you see Hicks brandishing the knife in front of you. All the while, Hobie stands there, motionless, in place of the same oak tree bearing your name. As if your fate is predestined, your own tombstone carved above the shallow grave they're about to throw you in. It happens just like how he remembered it. Hicks, your own uncle, slices your throat with a cackle; while rain pelts down upon you, drenching your lace dress, mixing in with your blood gushing out of your neck in waves. Thunder and lightning cracks above, and you're thrown into the pit where they bury you alive.

You try to claw your way out, nails digging into the dirt, staining your once soft hands. Gasping for air, Hobie is unable to look away— how could he when he stays rooted on the spot of your tree?

As the storm pours down, your lungs filled with dirt and rain water, he watches as you slowly lose the light behind your eyes; falling limp, chest completely frozen as you stare up at the night sky. Hobie tries to scream, desperately uprooting himself off the soil, but it's not enough. You lay there unblinking, dead before they could cover your whole body with the same earthly soil you once stood upon with him. The last thing you saw was the leaves dancing in the wind, the last thing you saw was him, unable to save you one last time.

You hold him in bed until the trembling stops, you'll hold him forever if need be. Hobie's embracing your middle, face tucked just above your ribs, hiding his red puffy eyes from you while you knead at his nape. Your other hand cradles his elbow, fingers drawing patterns on his skin to calm him down. With every sniffle, you squeeze him tighter against you, and love filled words spilling out of your mouth to comfort him further.

You've told him a hundred times before that it was just a nightmare concocted by his mind that was caused by the trauma he has experienced. But you know that he understands that it isn't real, but you'll tell him a thousand times more to ease his worries because he once told you that it helps. You'll do anything to support him, and maybe one day his nightmares will finally fade away. Until then, you'll hold him and keep him grounded to the present.

His silent sobs have subsided, hand splayed over your stomach to feel your warmth. Dawn is peeking through the light blue curtains you've put up in the shared bedroom. You're surrounded in hues of brilliant blue, as if the sky itself presents itself inside your small bedroom.

The room is sparsely decorated, save for a large wardrobe at the other end of the room. You were too occupied to decorate the house. If you had enough time in between tending to the garden and the house, you'd decorate your home with things you and Hobie love— place photographs of you two, trinkets that remind you of the good days back home; and fill it with shared memories. You promise once everything is settled, you'd put your time and effort in making the place more homely. For now, you'll settle for filling the abode with warmth and your love for eachother.

The almost sheer fabric of the curtains does nothing to shield you from the light, but with the soft blue hue coming from the heavens above, and the cool breeze passing by, blowing the curtains around the sparsely decorated room— it helps him calm down. Hobie feels like he's floating above a cloud with you hugging him, lips pecking gently against the crown of his head with so much love he feels it in his chest. Blossoming, spreading around his limbs, tending to him and comforting him slowly.

You flick your eyes over to him, inadvertently meeting with his own that has been searching for the light behind your eyes. “I think we need ducks.”

Hobie cracks a smile, green eyes lingering on your soft grin. “Why ducks?” His voice is still hoarse so he clears his throat as you continue to massage at his nape. Making sure that he doesn't get a crick in his neck from how he's looking up at you with tender eyes.

“They hunt pests, it'll help the farm.”

“Where'd you learn that?” He humours you, hand cupping your side; such affection could only come from him.

You chuckle while your fingers play with his baby hairs clinging to his nape. “From my books.”

Hobie cuddles closer, nose nudging your stomach. “Buck and Cherry won't like ‘em. Clover might even eat ‘em.”

You snort, tamping down another laugh as if your laughter will disturb the peace when it's the opposite for him. “If we desensitize the horses they'll like them. And I'm sure Clover won't eat the ducks.” Hobie pulls himself up, tear stained cheeks illuminated by the dwindling oil lamp; chin placed on your chest. “We can build a coop for them, then have duck eggs every morning.”

“Have you tried duck eggs before, lovie?” His knuckles brush along your jaw, emerald eyes swimming with emotion. Sometimes you wish you could hear his thoughts so you could do a better job at comforting him. Like he does to you, he's better at that than you.

“I don't think so. Do they taste bad?”

“Nah,” his voice is soft, as if he's whispering secrets only to you. “It tastes the same as regular chicken eggs.”

You reach for his nose, squeezing it once before letting go. “I'll take your word for it, farmer Hobie.”

He chuckles, cheek pressed gently on top of your chest, straining his ear to hear your heartbeat. “‘Farmer Hobie,’ I never thought I'd hear that.”

“Don't like it?” With your thumb, you wipe the remaining tears clinging on his eyelashes. “How about ‘rancher Hobie?’”

“It sounds better than outlaw Hobie. Whatever you want to call me, love.” He pulls himself up more, face tucked in the crook of your neck. You cradle his head, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “I'll be there.”

“Good, you know I don't like waiting.” You joke, eyes slowly closing while you fight a yawn. “We can go back to sleep, Hobs. It's still early.” You feel his presence above you, eyes cracking open, you see him frown. “You okay?”

“'m sorry that we lost all that time together.” He sniffs, inhaling sharply. Eyes finding your own.

You smile, helping him ease up. “It doesn't matter. We have forever now.” Hands cradling his face, you peck his lips then his eyelids as he closes his eyes. It's a simple act, a small one but it wraps his heart in silk and warmth. He feels like that lovelorn boy he left behind a long time ago.

“I need to show you somethin'” He whispers against your lips.

You quirk a brow, lips pursed into a gentle smile. “Okay, show me.” Hobie kisses your cheek before leaning away. The mattress squeaks as he leaves your side, you already feel empty and cold.

You watch as he crouches down on the foot of the bed. There's a scraping noise when he pulls something from underneath. Propping your elbows up, you crane your neck to see what he's doing. Wood scraping against wood, you see him lugging it towards the side of the bed. It's a large wooden trunk that's carved with simple patterns. There's nothing out of the ordinary about it, nothing but metal inlays and a lock where a key would go. Your heart thumps loudly, filled with trepidation as Hobie takes an old rusted key hidden under the bedside table. Crawling towards the edge of the bed, you peek as he opens it.

“Please don't tell me that's where you're hiding your millions.” You joke just as when the smell of old paper akin to weathered books hits your nose. “Oh,” you almost cried at the sight of hundreds of letters piled inside. They all bear his name and yours where the recipient would be. Your letters dwarf next to his own, yours are wrapped in a red ribbon that's placed next to his own pile. “Hobie—”

“I kept it all, I used to write everyday, but I got busy. I never forgot, Y/N. I never forgot you.” You choke back a sob whilst he roams his eyes around the contents of the trunk. His hands reached inside to grab a leather bound book. He finally looks at you, staring at your tear filled eyes. “D’you remember this?” Holding up the book, you smile at the worn out title. You remember the gold painted on it, now it has been worn down from years of it being read.

Heart stuck in your throat, you could only beckon him over back to your side. “Come here please.” You sniff, and he complies. Reaching for your hand as you help him up on the bed. Hobie places himself in-between your legs, back laying on your chest as his hands flip towards the front page of the book. “‘Candide,’ how could I forget?” You wrap your arms around him while your legs are crossed around his waist. You're his personal pillow, you've accepted the role earnestly. “I never asked how you liked it.”

“Your confession trumped how much I liked the book.” Hobie takes your hand to peck the back of it, eyes reading the three words you wrote years ago. “‘I love you,’” he reads the brief inscription you wrote on the front page. It's short, but you'd write it on every wall you encounter, on every surface; carve it on mountains and even the sky itself if you could. “I thought it was as absurd as the book itself.”

You chuckle against the crown of his head, “I remember the way you ran towards me after you saw it.” His lips felt like morning dew against your own that day. It was heaven sent for him and for you.

“This is the only thing I could grab before I had to leave. It was just this, all my savings and the clothes on my back.”

“I'm sorry,” you hide behind his shoulder, sobs wracking your body as he holds onto you tightly. You should've been there, fought harder to be by his side. All you could do now is lament on your grief and longing for time lost.

“Never mind that, it's over now.” Hobie pats your cheek, “the trunk is yours, love. If you want it.”

You peek over his shoulder, blinking at the large amount of letters that would surely have you sobbing even more. “You'd let me read it all?”

“They're all addressed to you. ‘sides, I read all of yours. It's only fair that you read mine.”

You wipe a fallen tear, sniffing while a moment passes in comfortable silence. He senses your feelings, twisting around, he cups your cheek before laying his forehead on your own. “I never blamed you for everythin’ that happened.”

A weight is lifted off your chest, a weight that you never realized was there since you've gotten used to the burden. “I–I never truly hated you for leaving.” Eyes closed, you rub his shoulders, comforting him and yourself at the same time. “I wrote it a hundred times in my letters.”

“I know, I read all of them. Now it's your turn to read all my…” He inhales sharply, letting your scent ground him to the present. “...complicated thoughts.”

“Complicated thoughts comes with loving someone.” Pulling away, you kiss him gently. Hobie has placed his whole heart in your hands, and you intend to keep it safe and tucked right beside your own. Or perhaps you've given him yours years ago.

—

After spending hours in bed, letters in hand and Hobie sleeping soundly next to you; you've only read half of the letters he wrote for you. Some made you quietly weep as he wrote about his struggles in the new world without you by his side. Some have made you laugh with his almost incoherent scribbles, notes that he has written while deep in amber liquid and under the fog of longing. It was almost noon when you two finally decided to leave the comfort of the bed to eat and go about your day to day chores.

Hobie decided to make breakfast for the two of you, or brunch is the better way to put it. After feeding Clover and both horses, you come home to a neatly set table. Bowls of fruit, bread and butter with oatmeal on the side sit prettily inside the new porcelains you bought from town. The table is complete with a red checkered table cloth, and plush roses inside a vase placed in the middle.

You stop in the doorway, watching him whistle a tune as he straightens the utensils. “I love it when you go the extra mile.”

Hobie perks his head up, sun shining on the delight etched on his face. “Can’t help it, love, you're contagious.” He eyes your blue poncho that he gifted to you a while ago. “I spend all this time with you, it's impossible not to catch your flawless manners.” He's already reaching towards you as you close the distance.

You place yourself in his arms, palms flat on his chest. “You make it sound like I gave you an incurable disease.”

Index finger on your jaw, he wipes away sweat from your heated skin. You notice the gun belt around his waist that pokes your hip, you don't mention why he started carrying even in the comfort of your home. You know why he does.

“I don't mind dyin’ from it.” He starts to peck your forehead and then he moves down to your parted lips, but you lean away teasingly before he reaches your waiting lips. With a furrowed brow, he tilts his head questioningly.

“Easy there, cowboy. We just got out of bed.” You reluctantly pull away even though you wanted the kiss as much as he did. Patting his bicep, you walk towards the kitchen to wash your hands.

“What do you mean? It's just a quick snog, love.” He leans on the table with one arm, the other nonchalantly inside his jean pocket. He clearly knows what he's doing to you. Sun rays part around him, bathing him in godly light.

You laugh, looking away before you pounce on him, hands in the water basin as you scrub the grime off your hands. “You said that last time and we didn't get anything done the whole day.”

Shrugging, he pulls the chair away from the table for you. Wood scraping on hardwood, smirk thrown your way. “It was one time. ‘sides, we finished all our chores before the sun went down.”

Drying your hand, you walk back to him. You poke his chest with a chuckle, he feigns hurt, making you laugh even more. “Bucky and Cherry were ignoring us after because their food was late.” Sitting down, you roll your eyes, “and it wasn't just that one time, Hobs.”

Hobie slides the chair back in, quickly kissing the crown of your head before sitting next to you, not at the head of the table like you thought he would the first time you two shared a meal together. You love all the subtle ways he shows you his love without saying the three words.

He gestures between you and him, “combined effort, love.”

You flick his ear, heat settling on your cheeks. “I know, I was there.” mumbling, you grab the pitcher of orange juice to pour one in his glass then over to yours whilst he spreads butter on your bread.

“You love flickin’ my bloody ear.” His arm is comfortably placed over the back of your chair, fingers brushing along the top of your head. “How would you feel if I started flicking your ear, hm?”

Covering your ear, you dramatically gasp. “It's still healing, how dare you?” Despite your words, your smile betrays you.

Hobie chuckles, “you can barely see the scar now, love.”

“It still hurts, sometimes.”

“Wait, really?” The sarcasm goes over his head until you give him a look that says ‘I’m clearly joking.’ He sighs, relief in his viridescent eyes. “You had me, I was about to bring you to the doctor.” The last word doesn't send you spiraling anymore after what happened last time with a certain doctor.

Scooping up a spoonful of oatmeal with blackberries, you bring it to Hobie's mouth. “You're a worrywart, Hobs. And I love you for it, now eat. We have so much to do today.”

Smiling, he clamps his mouth shut. “Yeah, but what if we just stay in bed instead—” he gets cut off by oatmeal gently shoved in his mouth. Laughing, he almost chokes from amusement.

He loves this, the domesticity, the shared affection and everything in between. He now sees the beauty in the mundane, the peace in uneventful days. After what seemed like decades of longing and bone aching grief, he feels like he's finally living again

After eating, you pick up plates even though Hobie told you a dozen times that he'll clean up. Once you shut him up with a quick kiss, he immediately relents and continues to drink his coffee.

You come around his seat, taking his finished plate. Before you could leave, he dips his head down backwards to look up at you. “Don't wash them yet, let me help you, yeah?”

With one hand cupping his chin, stubble prickling your palm, you squeeze tenderly. “You made breakfast, so that means I get to clean.” He starts to shake his head, but your hand stops him, making him scrunch his nose. “Combined effort, right?”

As you brush your hand along his scruff, you can see that he's surrendering. “Fine, at least let me dry it.” Beaming down at him, you can't seem to move away from him, hand still running along his jaw. “Do I need to shave?”

“No, it's growing on me actually.”

“Funny, it's growing on me too.”

“Haha.” You walk away with the plates as he hides his laugh behind his mug.

Finishing his drink, as the warmth settles in his stomach, he saunters over to you with the remaining dishes. “D’you think a beard would suit me?” Appearing next to you, he grabs a clean towel, drying the clean plates just like he promised.

“Maybe if we shave your head it might suit you.” Teasing and giggling Hobie splashes water on your cheek. “Completely joking, my love. I like whatever you decide to do. Even if it's a mustache.”

“And they say ‘m the bloody menace.” He pretends to glare at you, but you flash him with a flutter of your eyelashes, melting his façade on the spot. You shake your head with a grin, a comfortable silence settles, save for the sound of water sloshing around the basin and birds chirping outside.

Your matching rings gleam in the sun with the kitchen window in front of you that's facing the backyard. You've gotten used to this life, yet you still can't believe you're living it. It's hard to think that you were running away and starving just barely six months ago. Now you're living the life you always hoped you would be in.

You've forgotten what you were worrying about in the first place.

“What are your plans today, love?” He dries his hands before he takes yours to dry with a clean towel. Gently wiping, he waits for your answer while you think.

“Pick some tomatoes for Riri, you remember how she loved the last batch?” You love it when he dotes on you.

“Yeah, she was raving ‘bout it.”

You hum, “then maybe try again with your surprise.”

Hobie pauses from drying your hands. “You're still not goin’ to tell me what it is?”

Shaking your head, you stare at him with a cheeky smile, and eyes sparkling. “Nope,” he doesn't know that you're trying to breed a new variant of roses that would bloom in the same shade as his eyes. It's a lot harder than you thought it would be, but you persevere especially after one of the saloon's band members lent you a book all about it. “I think I'm close to getting it.”

“As long as it's not going to blow up in my face.” His hands clasps your own, tilting his head with a raised brow.

“For the last time, I didn't know that combining those two cleaning agents would make the bucket explode.” You both chortle at the memory. “But I think it's about to rain though. So I might just help you fix the floors in the spare bedrooms.”

Hobie glances at the window, seeing a clear blue sky without any hints of grey clouds nor rain. “Let me guess, knee hurtin’ again?”

You nod, “exactly. Wanna bet like last time since you still don't trust my knee rule?”

“It’s not an exact science.”

“And yet I've been right ninety percent of the time.”

“Ninety?” He slyly wraps you in his arms, you let him wholeheartedly. “Try seventy.”

“You either bet or you don't, Hobie.”

Nudging your nose lovingly, he peppers your face with featherlight kisses. You softly smile, clay in his arms, eyes closed as he dusts your skin with kisses. “Fine,” kiss “I'll bite.” He smooches each corner of your eyes. “How much?”

“I think you're already paying in advance.” You don't blame him when you two didn't finish any chores for today. It is a combined effort as you let him in your saccharine embrace.

—

Hobie waits for you by the porch with a cigarette in between his lips, smoke wafting in the air. The sun is slowly setting, orange and pinks dancing along Clover's face as she paws on his leg. Her eyes are big and glinting in the afternoon hues. A breeze carries the smoke away into oblivion just as when Cherry and Buckeye make their way inside the barn like clockwork.

“Your treat is comin’, stop whinin’.” He pats her head briefly. If dogs could frown, Clover would be giving him the deepest lour. “You've become spoiled, girl.” His fingers scratch behind her ear, tail wagging from side to side, yet she still whines for her afternoon treat.

The front door opens with a creak, Hobie sighs from the sound, thinking that he has finally fixed the stubborn hinges. But alas, it still declares every time it opens. His furrowed brows are replaced by a gentle smile the second he sees you saunter out with two mugs of tea in both hands. Still gorgeous in your poncho that seems to camouflage you with the house paint.

He quickly snuffs the cigarette, and flicks it away from you. Waving away the remaining smoke, he holds his hands towards you, one to hold one of the mugs, the other to hold onto your waist.

“There you are.” He beams at you, palms meeting with the drink’s warmth and your affection. “Run into some trouble?”

You grin at him and his habitual sweetness. “Here I am.” Pecking his cheek, you place yourself on the porch railing, eyes never leaving his own. Hand brushing along Clover's head, petting her. “You didn't even wait that long.”

“Seemed like forever to me, love.” Hobie clinks his mug against your own, earning a soft chuckle from you. Taking a sip, he makes a face, scrunching up his nose with a groan.

“What's wrong? Shit, did I mistake salt for sugar again?” You take his mug, tasting it for yourself. His tea barely tastes like anything, if anything else, it tastes bitter and akin to dirt. You clearly forgot to add sugar and milk just like how he likes it with this tea variant. You don't blame him for disliking it, the shop in town ran out of the good tea so you both had to settle with whatever is floating in the mug. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I'll remake it.”

“Oi, oi.” Before you could leave his side, Hobie reaches for your hip, arm snaking around it to pull you back to him. “I can handle it, stay with me, yeah?”

You feign a huff, placing your own mug on the railing, bringing your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer to you. Hip to hip, you beam at him whilst his hands rests upon your hips. You two look like you're about to dance. “I appreciate the sentiment, Hobs, but I can't let you drink bland tea.” You're sure that you forgot to put honey in your own.

He shrugs while Clover watches from the side, puppy dog eyes waiting for her treat. “I've got all the sugar and sweetness right ‘ere.” Leaning down, he places his forehead against your own. He then pecks the tip of your nose, all the while never leaving the comfort of staring into your eyes.

“I knew you'd say that.” You giggle, hands balling around his shirt. His eyes shine brightly, emeralds mixing in with the soft orange.

“You psychic now?” He raises a playful brow.

“Nope, I just know you, Hobie Brown.” You slide your hands away from his shirt to his chin, scruff scratching you a bit. “And I know you hate this tea without milk and sugar.”

“I can live without it for one drink.”

“And what? You can't live without me for even a moment?” You tease, and you now notice Clover's waiting but polite stare.

Hobie smiles, tilting away to then bend back in to kiss your lips gently. His hand holds your chin in place while you smile into the kiss, eyes closed but you still see the soft afternoon glow behind your closed eyelids. With one last peck, lips brushing along your own, he gives you his answer without saying a word.

You open your eyes with a breathy sigh, warmth filling your entire chest. “Do that again when I come back.”

“Love.” He sounds like he's pleading.

“I'll make your tea better this time.” You pat his cheek. “Besides, I forgot Clover's beef jerky.” With the utterance of her name, Clover stands up, wagging her tail with her tongue lolling out on the side of her maw. You're already moving away backwards, but his hand still holds onto your arm. You take both drinks, careful not to spill and waste any. As you go, his palm slides down, still trying to make you stay. “Five minutes, Hobs. Give me five and I'll be back.” You giggle when he stomps his foot like a petulant child.

“I'll be waitin', countin’ down the seconds.” he exhales dramatically, making sure that his longing is clearly shown. You laugh as Clover follows you inside. “It's my beef jerky by the way!” He yells, earning a muffled guffaw from you.

Smiling, Hobie returns to rest on the railing, elbow propped up, leaning and relaxing on the bannister. He refrains from lighting another stick of cigarette so he could keep his promise to you of quitting smoking. Fiddling with a loose thread on his sleeve, his ears perk up from the sound of hooves thumping on the ground. Hobie's heart immediately skips a beat from the sound. His hand stays on his gun as he leaves the porch to see where the horses are coming from. He's not expecting any visitors, and from how loud the sound is, there seems to be a dozen of them coming his way.

Everything screams at him to take you and run.

His worry quickly rushes to you, as he twists and turns to spot where they're all coming from, he finally sees them coming down from hills. A dozen or so of them unmistakably gallop towards the farm. They're fast, leaving everything in the dust behind them.

There's no time to run away. And there's too many of them to fight off.

“Y/N!” He yells. “Stay inside!” There's no sound coming from the house, not even your footsteps as the strangers come closer and closer within a second until they all appear from behind the farmhouse with a couple of horses missing from the line. He takes notice of them, afraid of what will happen.

Dust flies around the farm, the clover covered ground gets trampled by hooves. They stop a mere inches away from your precious plants, surrounding him. Horses huff and neigh just as when dust settles, showing Hobie all their riders faces. He doesn't recognize any of them, and none of them stands out from the crowd. Except for the one leading the party, he's clad in a white suit with a pitch black tie. Eyes as green as the grass he's standing on, hair slicked back, revealed when he took off his matching hat.

Hobie stands before them, hand on his gun, posture ready to quick draw. “You’re trespassin’”

“Sorry about that,” the man in the white suit answers for the rest of them. “We're just here to ask for directions.”

“Ask, then leave.”

He clears his throat, “You see, we're looking for a place in Scarlett Meadows. But we're all turned around.” Chuckling, he leans on his horse, the poor horse clearly looks uncomfortable from the awkward weight on its neck.

“You're in Scarlett Meadows, mate.” Hobie says the last part sarcastically.

Clapping, the strange man looks around his party before returning his attention to Hobie. “That's good! Now can you point us towards the direction of Emerald Ranch?”

Hobie's stomach plummets, “You passed it.”

“That so?” The stranger looks around the farm. “Funny, this place looks like Emerald Ranch.”

“This is a farm, not a ranch.” Hobie's eyes narrow at the man before flicking towards the front door of the house to then return at the man whose eyes stare him down without a single fear behind them. “Have you tried asking ‘round town?”

“We would, but we heard they're not too friendly.”

“I wonder why?”

The white suit man chuckles lowly, “I'm just looking for someone, mate.”

“You're like a bloody cigarette, you're draggin’ this out, mate.” Hobie unlocks the strap securing his gun, ready to shoot.

The stranger chuckles, cracking a humourless smile before his expression turns flat. “Where's my fucking wife, Mr. Brown?”

Hobie falters, hand twitching around his gun. “Wife?”

The front door slams open, and you come out with a shotgun aimed at the stranger's head. “Ah there she is—!” A shot rings out, Hobie dodges from your range, and the man has the same idea. He falls from his now dead horse, using its body for cover.

“Cross!” You scream with anger, fear laced into your tone like venom. “You motherfucker!” Pumping the shotgun, you glance at Hobie. “Run!”

“I forgot I taught you how to shoot!” Cross laughs even with bullets raining down on him and his entourage.

Hobie sees everything in slow motion, one by one, as the assailants run towards you, they get shot down immediately. Blood splattered all over the clovers and plants you love so much. The horses neigh wildly from the barn, and Clover barks desperately from inside the house. Shotgun shells fall on the porch he mended, with gunpowder replacing the honey scented home. Hobie quick draws his gun, emptying half of his chamber at the men you missed. You're in the clear as his Entourage now lies beneath your feet. Hobie aims at Cross where he has a clear shot at while the man continues to hide behind the corpse. But before he could shoot, he hears your gun run out of bullets from how the trigger clicks empty. And then a harsh crack follows as you fall loudly on the wooden deck, head bloodied, breath trembling and struggling as the man Hobie hoped never to see again stands over you with his rifle digging into your temple.

Hicks, a stout man with a pencil thin mustache, clad in gold and your supposed uncle; the one who started it all, cackles above your bleeding form. “Long time no see, Hobie! Back from the dead, eh?” He waves at him, grinning widely. “Drop your fucking gun or I'll end her right here.”

Hobie's entire body trembles just like five years ago, mind reeling from the sight of Hicks' face. Never wasting a second, Hobie drops his gun just as he feels a pistol whip him from behind the second he's unarmed. He falls on the ground not from the strike on his head but from the angry kick on the back of his knees. He gets a mouthful of grass, dirt sticking to his cheeks.

Gun punted away from him, his vision swirls, hand reaching towards you. “No,” he whispers as he hears your sobs. There's a sudden pressure around his wrists, rope tying his hands on his back. “You fucker.”

Hobie picks up the unmistakable sound of a body getting dragged across the ground. Hands and feet hogtied, he struggles to fight back. He stops his struggle when you're placed in front of him in the same position. Your hands and feet are also bound, crimson trickling down from your temple to your eyes; blood sticking to your lashes. Trying desperately to wiggle next to you, he gets a harsh kick at his side. He bites his lip to prevent a pained groan from escaping.

Your eyes try to focus on him, pulse rapidly decreasing, you're in danger of falling unconscious. “...Hobs?” You call to him despite only seeing his outline in front of you.

“‘m here, love.” He wheezes. “Stay awake for me, yeah?”

You struggle to see, black dots dancing around your vision and blood rushing in your ears. Voices come and go, victorious laughter echoing and fading. “I–I should've told you. I'm s–sorry.” Crying, you feel a heavy cheek pressed on your own.

Your sobs would haunt Hobie in his grave. A haze of despair falling over him like fog atop a mountain.

“It's okay—”

“Yeah, you should've told him. Or maybe you shouldn't have left in the first place, hm, honey?” Cross has his hands around your binds, flesh against your cheek. “You left me for him?” He yanks you up, your bones crack and creak as his hand slither up to your bare throat. “I told you, you can never leave.” You choke as he squeezes.

Hobie tries to fight back even with the ropes around his legs and wrists. “Let her fucking go!” A heel stomps on the small of his back as Hicks laughs above him. A raging pain flares, but he refuses to let you fall in the clutches of a man that you clearly never wanted to be next to you.

Guilt wraps Hobie in its familiar embrace. He should've done more, added barbed wires around picket fences, hid guns under the porch, grabbed you the moment he heard the horses— he should've been better at protecting you.

“P–please,” you mumble out despite the hand gripping around your neck. “Let him go, y-you have me. You won.” Gasping, you stare at Hobie with your bloodshot eyes. He shakes his head, eyes full of unshed tears. Even now he doesn't want them to see the sorrow that they've caused him. “Cross, please.” You beg, a trapped doe in front of him.

Cross lets you go after a moment of you desperately trying to gasp for air. You look into his green eyes that are awfully familiar that fills you with dread. You despise that colour on him and how similar it is with the only man you love.

He reaches for your face as you flinch away but with his hand around your collar, you can't escape. You wait for a hit, but it doesn't come. Instead, he pats your cheek with a gloved hand, rough leather sending shivers down your spine. For a second, he looks like he's considering letting Hobie go. Hope blossoms in your chest together with the panic.

Your husband turns towards Hobie, towering over him, his hand still on you. Hobie meets with the similar green eyes with fury. Silence blankets around the farm as both men stare each other down. Cross is the first one to break.

“Thank you for bringing my wife back to me, Mr. Brown.” Craning his head to look at you, you pray that he gets hit with a stray bullet. “Mr. Hicks,” said man hums in reply. He smiles at you, showing his teeth. “Do whatever you want with Mr. Brown, I'm done here.” Cross pushes you towards one of his men, your back hits a sturdy chest. Something gold and metallic pokes your shoulder.

You look up at the man who bears the familiar gilded star. “Sheriff Lee?” He could only look at you through narrowed eyes, anger swimming behind hazel. “No!” Heart in your stomach, heels digging in, you refuse to go. “Hobie!” Said man wails for you in agony as you get dragged away by Lee's strong grip. You ignore the sheriff's sneer as you return your attention towards the only person who deserves it. “Run! Please!”

Hobie yells your name with wild rage. “No! Fuckin' let me go, you wankers!” He fights back on the ground, teeth biting at anyone who comes near him. But there's too many of them left, they punch and kick at him. Steel toed boots hitting his flesh in a sickening squelch. Once they're satisfied, they drag him behind the house as you both fight back despite the odds. “Remember your promise!” He screams, blood coating his tongue from the beatings. “Wait for me!”

“Leave—!” A sack is placed on your head, lungs struggling to breathe, eyes flicking rapidly from side to side. Your joints are frozen in place as panic takes over your whole body. Even with massive amounts of adrenaline to keep you fighting, you feel powerless, muscles straining, fingers trembling; everything crumbles. It's an assault on your senses, there're hands touching you, trying to tie you down. Breath staggered, eyes blown out, and body trembling. And yet, his screams are the ones that truly stay with you. Him screaming your name, crying out to you whilst you try to reach him.

“Burn the bloody place to the ground!” Hicks yells as you're placed on the back of a horse. “Dig a deeper hole! I'm here to finish what I started.” You call for him desperately, throat aching, body twisting and turning on the horse as you try to fall off it.

The stench of iron is replaced with fiery embers curling around your nose behind the fiber hood. You see blurred red and orange spreading through your home in a blaze of wildfire.

The last thing you hear is his screams as you fall unconscious from another hard punch to your skull.

—

Stirring awake, head pounding mercilessly against your temple, you groggily sit up despite the throbbing pain and dazed state. Hands still tied by rough rope behind you, the skin around your wrist is angry and starting to blister. Back hitting hard oak, your eyes meet with red stained glass windows that shine underneath flashes of lightning. You sit hunched on a pew as rain batters the windows with wind howling outside while you roam your eyes around the chapel— Smooth stone walls carved all around with granite floors glinting from the candle light. Arched ceilings that seem to be taller every time you blink, and incense filtering around the air, making your nose twitch.

“Good, you're awake.” Cross’ echoing voice rumbles deeply from the altar. Shoulders straight as a ruler, white suit drenched and dirtied from his recent fall from his horse.

“Wish I wasn't.” You groan, noticing how your feet are also tied together. Glancing around the altar, you scoff bitterly. “Really? Is nothing sacred to you, Cross?” He stalks over to you, fists clenched on his side. Fear is slowly creeping up to you. Yet, you don't balk, nor flinch when he gets closer to you. “What? Are you thinking about renewing our vows?”

“What did he do to you? Hm? What did he say to get you out here in the middle of bumfuck nowhere?” His wedding ring shines, making you glare at the piece of jewelry.

“Why? I chose to be with him, simple as that. I moved forward because you weren't there to shackle me anymore.” You lean closer despite the bindings and your instincts telling you not to fight or else. You know what he's capable of, his hands still bear the shape of your throat and cheek. “Why are you even here? You should've let me go, I gave you a reason to finally be free of me!” You stomp your foot, frustrated and angry. But most of all afraid for Hobie and what has become of him when you were dragged away. “Why didn't you let me go, Cross?”

His eye twitches, the same eyes that are sickenly familiar to Hobie's. “You're my wife, of course I'd follow you.”

You scoff bitterly, “your wife? I'm only your wife on paper.” Wrists twisting, you try to free yourself just like how Hobie taught you in case something like this would happen. And happen it did. “If you forgot, my aunt chose you, and Hicks made me walk down that fucking aisle with a knife to my throat. You are not my husband. Not to me.”

Cross blinks as if he's lingering around your words. Your heart beats louder than the storm outside, afraid of what the man before you would do. Your instincts are right as he suddenly raises his hand to land a harsh slap, you flinch away on instinct, heart beating loudly from the fear. But the pain doesn't blossom on your cheek like it used to, instead, he lunges for your throat, fingers digging in your pulse as you choke.

“Make s-sure you hit me right between my eyes until I see stars, husband.” You mock him despite your crippling fear.

“Don't.” He seethes, you don't stand down, this pain is nothing new to you.

When he doesn't get the response he wanted, his hold loosens, green eyes roaming and searching for the familiar fear in your eyes. A second later, he slowly lets you go and slides his hand up to cup your chin. He smells of nickel and rotten wood.

You tilt your head back so you can leave his hold but he grips tighter. Hair standing on end, his touch is a shivering familiarity on your skin.

“W-why do you hold on tight to me? You don't love me, you never wanted me to begin with.”

He rubs your cheekbone with his thumb. “A year of marriage with you— Anyone would hold onto you with a grip.”

“You should've gotten a dog instead of a wife then.” You laugh throatily, feeling his hand clasp tighter. “Now what has become of you, Cross?” His jaw clenches. “What happened to slapping me as your greeting? All the hair pulling, and dragging me across the floor to show your so-called love for me? Fetch my aunt, she knows how to properly greet me as always.”

His eyes sparkled with brief amusement. “You didn't hear?” He pauses, thumb brushing along your bottom lip, hunger in those green eyes. “Your great aunt's dead.” You swallow thickly, letting his words sink in. Your mind can't make out how to feel about it. “Died of a broken heart, that's what the doctor said.”

“A–a broken heart?” You shove his hand away from your face. “I didn't know she even had a heart in the first place.”

You can see the confusion spreading across his face, not used to your new found fiery attitude. “What has become of you? She died because you ran away.” Cross uses grief and guilt as his weapon, and he knows what he's doing.

“I'm not the same girl you married, Cross.” You tilt your head on the back of the pew, staring him down through your bloodied lashes. “And you and I both know that's bullshit. She smoked like a goddamn chimney, worse that she had numerous enemies. Not the kind of combination you want if you wish to live long.”

“Watch your fucking tongue, girl.” Hicks’ booming voice ricochets around the chapel as he appears from a door near the altar. “That was my wife you're talking about.”

“Look at that, hello, uncle.” Sarcasm drips from your words. “Why do you like a fucking priest when you're the farthest from being one?” You gesture with your head towards his robe like clothes, he's draped in black cloth from head to toe, mourning clothes.

Unabashedly eyeing him up and down, you start to giggle. “You married her for money, you fool. You're not convincing anyone with that.” Turning towards Cross whose eyes remained on you, you falter for a second before straightening your expression. “You blame me for her death but have you asked him about it? He has everything to gain from her death.” Cross flicks his eyes towards the man before turning to leave with a humourless scoff. “Coward.” You whisper.

A strong grip latches itself in your hair, pulling at your scalp. Hicks' hot breath puffs over your cheek, you yelp in pain, reminding you of all the times she did this exact thing to you. “You and your childish whims killed her. And for what? To be with that boy?”

“Fuck you!”

“Y/N,” Cross stands in the middle of the aisle, nonchalantly taking a coin from his breast pocket to twirl it across his fingers. “He didn't kill her, Hicks isn't the one named in her will. He has nothing to gain.”

Slowly, delight spreads across your chest, wrists almost free. You grin widely. “She left it all to me.” Hicks throws your head down, skull hitting the pew with a sickening crack. Yet, you still laugh even with blood trickling down to your nape. “A-after all the shit you had to do to win her over,” you swallow down the pain. “she still didn't trust you enough to hand the company over to you!” Your guffaw echoes around the chapel. You spot Sheriff Lee standing in the corner, guarding the door, your laughter roars louder at the sight of him.

Hicks scoffs, trying to act that your words hasn't fazed him. “I always admired her, y’know, her and her resilience to punish you even though she loved you so much. With your hands bloodied and knees in grain— pretty eyes wet with salty tears. It was quite a sight. But as much as I admired her, cared for her, I can't replace you. No one can.”

Your eyes brim with tears you refuse to let go. “She could barely look at me.” You whisper the words.

He sighs, “she loved you.”

“There was a time I thought she did. That I deserved all of the pain, that I didn't know any better. But I was just a child who didn't do anything wrong but look up to her.”

Shrugging, Hicks makes a face that fans the flames in you. “Maybe you did deserve it.”

You don't feel the fear anymore, your rage triumphs over it.

“Fuck you!” Your screech could be heard above the thunder. “It got worse because of you! Only because you whispered in her ears and told her everything with your jealous sickly eyes! Married me off to some man who would hurt me more than grains on my knees!” You heave, Hicks raises an unbothered brow. “Wasn't it enough that you took him away from me?” He grins at you, papers in his hand, looking at you as if you're the one in the wrong. “The poison drips down, from her to you and then to my accursed husband.” You turn your red eyes towards Cross, the coin in his hand pauses from your heavy stare.

Maybe you should've gone with your parents on that doomed expedition.

A rustle of papers makes you turn towards the sound. Hicks spreads the crumpled paper on the seat next to you, pointing at the dotted line and placing a fountain pen beside it. “Sign your name and this'll be over.”

You lick your dry lips, the taste of your blood is bitter and acrid on your tongue. Your eyes don't even glance at the words. Wondering how they knew where you went, your mind wanders to the only person back home who knew. “What did you do to Peter?”

“We set him free. Free to roam the gates of heaven that is.”

Nails dig into your palms, leaving crescent scars atop your old one. Fury snaking along your aching body, you crane your neck towards Cross who leans against the altar, flipping a coin as candlelight flicks across his face and red windows reflecting off his skin and eyes. “The people you surround yourself with, Cross, it's astounding. You've got a dirty sheriff, a gold digging motherfucker, and me, who will take every opportunity to kill everyone in this fucking room.” Your want for vengeance spreads across the chapel, voice louder than the thunder raging outside. Cross looks at you like it's the first time he truly ever saw you. Returning your focus on the man who buried the love of your life, you utter behind clenched teeth.

“Just sign the damn papers—”

“When you buried Hobie under that oak tree, you buried me too. And you sliced open my neck just like how you did to him, that's why I'll never sign it.” Hicks tries to grab your head but you headbutt his chin before he could. He collapses on the floor, cradling his bitten and bleeding tongue. Standing above him, pen in hand, wrists now free behind you, you smile at him so it's the last thing he'll ever see. “I'm going to burn the company into the ground, and you'll be left penniless but I'll be fine; thanks to you suggesting this, how did you put it? ‘Auspicious’ marriage.”

Cross notices the sharp, shiny pen in your hands. He yells, coin falling from his hand with a clink, but it's too late as you pounce on Hicks, stabbing his chest with every clink of the coin— three times, you stab him three times as blood gushes out in a spray across your vengeful face. Lee stops you by tackling you on the ground. The blood coated pen clangs on the granite, drenching the floor with crimson. Lee has to put his entire weight on you so you can't escape, Hobie drives you to fight back with the same ferocity he would.

You need to avenge him.

“How does it feel, Hicks?! That's how I felt while you watched!” Your uncle sits up, groaning, blood slipping from his fingers as the outlaws that they hired rush towards him. You know he won't die from his injuries, you'd know— but it's enough, knowing that you caused him pain until you can finally end him with your own hands.

Laughing, arms being tied up from behind, tighter this time, you continue to try and escape from under Lee even with his knee digging on the small of your back. “I will not cleave, never again! Especially to men like you!”

Hicks stands up with some help. He leaves small drops of his blood on the granite, hands plugging the holes you made on his torso. “Now I'm glad I finished the job! I buried him again, and this time he'll stay down there for good!” He tries to rile you up further, it works from the mere mention of Hobie. You fight back, Lee's hold on you wasn't enough so Cross joins him, hands keeping your kicking legs down. “I even burned down your dinky house, there's nothing left there for you!”

“Did you make sure that he stayed buried this time, uncle?!” You yell at him, a sound akin to primal fury. His eyes widen, and you grin bitterly, “You didn't. Don't bother running away because he's already coming after you.” Lee yanks you up, and then places the same hood on your face. “He's coming after you!” You get dragged away towards the small room behind the altar.

Your grief has grown teeth. “If he doesn't then I'll do it for him!”

As Lee ties you to a table, closing and locking the door behind your screaming form; Cross' entourage looks at him with trepidation.

“We'll leave the second the rain is gone.” They all agree immediately.

—

Dread spills over him like a flood, incapable of saving you, watching your unconscious form ride away as Cross carries you on his borrowed horse. Hobie had to gaze upon the agonizing pain of you being taken away.

Outlaws set fire to the house, razing it to the ground as smoke immediately entered his senses. Flames spread in the home you two built together, angry orange hues devouring the same place he promised to live the rest of his life with you. The light blue paint starts to melt, glass windows cracking in the heat. He watches as his home turns to ash.

Men drag his screaming, writhing body towards the back of the house as he hears the awfully familiar sound of soil falling from shovels. His entire body hurts, cuts and bruises marring his flesh, clothes torn, and teeth coated in crimson. Trying to fight back, his nails digging in on the men's wrists yet it doesn't faze them. He sees Buck and Cherry run towards Hobie, neighing angrily with every intention to kick each of his assailants.

Hicks takes his guns out, aiming at both horses before they could reach him. Hobie yells at his horses, pleading with his broken voice. “No! Get away, Buck!”

Hicks shoots, gunshot echoing around the farm, bullet missing Cherry's hoof by an inch. Both horses rears, neighing loudly. “Fuck, I missed.” Hicks looks back at Hobie, who's on his knees. Hicks pulls down the hammer again to shoot. “Good thing I have more than one bullet.”

Hobie sneers, turning towards both terrified horses. “Buckeye! Leave! Get!” Bucky seems to shake his head in protest, but one look from his rider has him understanding what he meant. He runs away in the direction with Cherry in tow, who looks at the place she last saw you in. Hobie's glad he listened, he can't lose them too.

With dust clearing, Hicks returns his focus on Hobie and the outlaws that are digging behind him. “Dig deeper, make sure he doesn't get out like last time.” An idea passes by his eyes. “Or maybe I should just strap your hands and feet to my horse and gallop away while I drag you around in your shitty farm?”

“Fuck you, Hicks!” Hobie kicks dirt at his direction, soil landing on his shoes, completely unbothered. “Where is he taking her?”

Hicks chuckles while he takes out a cigar from a golden case that Hobie recognizes as your aunt's cigar case. He cuts the cigar before lighting it up with the same fire that eats away the farm. “Why bother asking? She's married, boy, taken and all that.” Crouching down, he blows smoke at Hobie's face. Eyes flicking towards the hole behind him. “Besides, you'd be six feet under.”

Thunder roars overhead, followed by a spark of lightning and petrichor. You were right, it's going to rain.

“It was all arranged wasn't it? Was it you?”

“No, it was her aunt. God rest her soul.” Hicks points at the sky as droplets of rain trickles down.

“Good.” Hobie grins, teeth threatening to snap at the man. Hicks clenches his jaw, sneering with a scoff.

The fire continues to burn behind him, and the men carry on with digging Hobie's grave right behind him. “Well, technically, I was the one who suggested it but she's the one who did most of the work.” He huffs and blows smoke, “you should've seen Y/N at her wedding, so gorgeous in white.”

Hobie tightens his jaw, lunging at Hicks but the men holding him down stops him. “No matter how deep that hole you put me in, I'll dig myself out and I'll come and cut your neck this time.”

“Let's see about that, Hobie. Pity, if only you didn't chase her, you'd be fine. Hell, maybe a manager at the factory by now.” He takes a peek behind Hobie, sucking in his teeth when it's not deep enough. “Shame, you had talents. I gotta hand it to you though, you've built yourself quite a reputation over here.”

“Whatever you heard,” Hobie leans closer, but a hand stops him. “It's all true, especially what I did in the east. And once I get my hands on you and that prick you married her to, I'll make sure what happened back then was child's play.” For a brief second, Hicks wavers.

“It's six feet,” someone says behind Hobie, still heaving from the labour.

“About time.” Hicks stands up, instructing the men to lift Hobie up on his feet. He gets yanked up, shoulders throbbing. “I'm supposed to say some nice parting words to the departed,” Hicks takes out his gun, pressing the barrel on Hobie's forehead while he glares with a bitter smile— “But I don't want to waste my breath.”

“Make sure you don't miss.” Hobie leans closer to the metal as Hicks then digs it into his neck as Hobie taunts. Moving a few paces away with his free hand pressed on his ear, he knocks the hammer down and aims it at Hobie's head.

He braces himself.

Hicks shoots, lighting strikes a few ways from the farm, lighting up the bullet heading right at Hobie's head. Blood spills over the soil below. He falls into the grave with a thud. Hicks Looks from above, seeing Hobie limp inside the hole in the ground, right next to the writhing worms. Satisfied, he tells his men to cover it back up just as the rain starts to pour in.

“Meet us at the rendezvous.” Hicks says above the sound of rain and thunder as he makes his way towards his horse, already galloping away while soil drops on Hobie's motionless face.

—

It rains, just like that day five years ago.

Hobie's nails are coated in dirt and grime, face covered by his own shirt to protect him from falling soil. Yet it doesn't save him from slowly suffocating. Soil in his lungs, breath ragged, he remembers the panic in your voice, how you screamed so he could be let go. He's living his past once again, but this time, he's not a frightened boy, he'll rise from the dead over and over again if he has to. With a raging heart that feels like imploding, his thoughts are on you.

Your worst fear is him dying. Even with the threat of a gun to your head, you still chose him.

Did he deserve any of these? To see you cry for him desperately, to hear you call for him with blood spilling from your lips— is he cursed? Is this karma for all the things he has done? That he deserves all of it because he was molded into this, a weapon he never wished to become but had to so he could survive. He doesn't want to linger on the thought, all he knows is that he needs to survive this.

But will he survive long enough to see you again?

Grunting, his temple has stopped bleeding a few minutes ago, skin grazed by the bullet that he dodged covertly. Hicks was never known for his aim even if his target was just a few steps away from him. Or perhaps Hobie is incapable of dying.

With his belt buckle in hand, he digs upwards. While he laid there ‘dead’ he heard about the new factory settled in the south— That after your aunt's death, they changed the main location from London to the heart of the new world's south. He knows where to find Hicks now, and in turn, you too.

He's not going to lie down and bleed.

Hobie hears the pattering of rain just outside the grave, thankful that the idiots Hicks tasked to bury him gave up halfway after they thought him dead. Still, Hobie's having a hard time digging himself out when the soil has clumped together because of the water and became heavier because of it. But he won't give up until he gets to see and hold you again. He still needs to tell you that he forgives you, that he understands why you didn't tell him. That he loves you despite it all.

Yelling in frustration, he still can't feel the breeze from below. Seemingly not making any progress. Arms thrumming from fatigue, he inhales and exhales, remembering why he keeps fighting, why he wants to survive it all.

You. The image of you drives him to dig himself out of his own supposed grave.

Hobie digs and digs, calculating his breathing so he doesn't waste what little air he has. He lists all their names, all the people he has to cut through to get to you. Hicks is a given, he has to end that man to avenge his younger self. Sheriff Lee, whose asshole son he had to shoot or he'll continue to commit unspeakable crimes that his own father lets him do without a single reprimand. And Cross, your husband, a marriage you never wanted, your shackle that continues to drag you down.

“Fuckers,” he whispers, renewed energy making him dig faster and faster.

There's a metallic twinkle from outside, for a moment, he thought that he suffocated and is now being taken by death. His worries subsides when he hears frantic barking outside, paws digging and whining sadly.

“Clover.” Hobie is in disbelief, lucky that Clover returned. “Good girl, Clover! Keep diggin’!” He helps, tunneling together in tandem until he sees her snout sniff at the ground. “Atta girl!” Petting briefly, Clover digs as Hobie gets his hand out from the depths of the soil.

Lighting pierces the night, he rises from his grave once more.

Death can't stop him from getting back to you. This time, he won't leave you to be eaten by the coyotes.

Dragging himself out, Clover helps him by biting at the hem of his jeans, pulling him up by her teeth. Rain pelts against his skin, mud sticking to his flesh, and blades of grass clinging to him. Shakily standing up, he screams the moment he's fully out of the grave.

Hobie brushes his hand along Clover's head, scratching just behind her ear. She scampers off, running towards somewhere, maybe a dry place where she can rest after a job well done.

He lets Clover run away, taking out his cigarette and lighter, he drags the stick across his dry lips before placing it in between. Lighting it, he inhales deeply, the glow from it illuminates the fury on his face. Promising himself that he'll save you, that he won't abandon you this time. And If you're still willing, rebuild the house in each of your visions like it was supposed to be.

Staring at the farm house, its burnt, but remnants of it remains thanks to the unexpected rain. The structure still stands tall, darkened wood falling apart, ash mixing in with the rain, turning the floorboards into a muddy sludge. He can't think about all the letters that you didn't finish reading, all those words forgotten in the wind, nothing but ash flying away with the breeze.

Even the garden you worked so hard for is burnt to nothingness, not even a single leaf has survived. All the flowers and produce you've painstakingly kept alive are now cinders.

The familiar calmness that comes after a brush with death sits in his chest. A wave of pain seizes him to a pause, gripping the chest, his mind imagines the worst. That they've hurt you, that you're sailing halfway across the world by now; that they've killed you and dropped you into a shallow grave to let the rain inevitably wash you away. He shuts the thought out, tears pricking at his eyes. Uttering your name softly, he exhales. You're his peace.

Still standing in what remains of the farm, Hobie hears hooves rushing behind him, and a familiar bark running next to the pair of horses, whose shadow looms over him when lightning strikes and lights up the barren land.

“I'll get her back, I promise.”

—

The saloon is in full swing, patrons dance around the band, people rambunctiously play poker upstairs while Riri is arguing with Miguel after she told him that she's leaving to go and check the farm.

“I'm telling you, Miguel, something doesn't feel right. Morgan told me he saw fire blazing over there!” She unlaces her apron, tossing the empty whiskey bottle right next to other empty ones.

“Their place is far away, how could Morgan even see that?” Miguel chomps down on a slice of cake, rain continues to pour down as Riri takes her coat and hat from the closet beside the bar. “Where are you going, Ri? It's pouring outside!”

“To check on them—!” The saloon doors open with a bang, spooking the band, the music screeching to a halt when they see Hobie standing there drenched, bleeding and covered in weapons. Everyone stops to look, the brim of his hat covers half of his face, scar in full display, ring glinting in the light. Silence hangs, not even a whisper can be heard. “Holy fuck.” Riri pushes past people to get closer to him, hands reaching out to him, eyes seeking you from behind him. When she doesn't see you, she presumes the worst.

“They found her.” Lightning strikes behind him, briefly showing his red eyes.

Riri nods, hiding her shaking hands with a fist. “I've got your back, just like I said.” Miguel stands dumbfounded, frowning, eyebrows knitted in anger.

Hobie glances at the customers he knows, half of them were from the gang he used to run with. The other half are afraid of him. He turns his heed towards Miguel, eyes boring into the man. “Remember that bounty you never got?” Miguel smirks, already placing his hat on his head. “Any valuables you find, it's yours and the gang’s. Time to get even, Miguel.”

He hears ear splitting cheers before he collapses into Riri's arms.

103 notes · View notes

yuri-is-online · 2 months ago

Note

Weird Yutu thingy but what if Yuu came from the Pokemon world

I believe the support system in the Pokemon world is much better than Earth so-

Single parent with a raging teen-

Add some emotional support Pokemon

And when Yutu comes to his parent's timeline Yuu gets so excited to see new Pokemon (that love them for some reason. Almost as though they were their first trainer-)

Oh Yuu and Yutu would be in such a better place if they came from the pokemon world. Yuu gets a house with a bunch of neighbors and nearby a lab and no one really cares about not knowing who Yutu's dad is.

The pokemon part is a bit trickey though... would they remember Twisted Wonderland? Probably, I couldn't see the magic marshal's keeping the pokemon? But I could also see one of Yuu's team staying with Yutu's dad by accident. Maybe it helps keep the boys who remain alive that much more sane, maybe it stands reluctant guard nearby where the phantom resides, unable to think of anything else to do until it sees Yutu and gets some of its old energy back. This whole ayuu is based off of Fire Emblem Awakening so I have to mention Cherche and her wyvern Minerva... her son Gerome takes up his mother's mount and brings her back in time with him, it's how she recognizes him even before he shows her the wedding ring... perhaps something similar happened with Yutu where he has one of your pokemon and you just know that he's lying to you even before you know he's your son (Gerome's supports with his dad made me so mad because I always S ranked Cherche and Libra because Libra actually learns to speak wyvern in their support chain but that's not reflected in his support with Gerome because it's generic and i wanted to scream every time i read iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. I sort of based Jade! Yutu's attitude towards his dad on those supports though)

But back to nicer thoughts, I always struggle with pokemon aus because half of it is just assigning the pokemon, and then I get super caught up in what region everyone is from and just bleh

Riddle! Yutu has to have a Roselia right? It just makes sense, maybe he has the shiny stone for the evolution all ready to go but it was the last present Yuu ever gave him so he's reluctant to use it. Maybe, if you want some extra angst, when he comes to Twisted Wonderland he still just has a budew because he's not super into pokemon battles but he struggles to raise the friendship level enough for budew to evolve once he's there. He's so upset about losing his parent and budew is trying their best tm but it's not enough until they see Overblot Riddle and finally get on the same wavelength.

The triplets... one of them has to have a Fidough that's just a given. I was tempted to say they all have one? But I like the idea of Yushi having a Swirlix since she's more into candymaking. That's 2/3 fairy types so I was scrolling looking for another one when I saw Sinistea and went "oh that would be cute and the perfect fit for a cafe themed se-" and then I realized I could give that to Yutres. Could. For funsies. But it makes much more sense and is less cruel to give her a Milcery. So Yutu gets Fidough, Yutres gets Milcery, and Yushi gets Swirlix for a cute little fairy cafe set.

Cater! Yutu is trickey, he's big on mindfulness and I was really tempted to give him my favorite pokemon because of that, but he also really likes music... I feel like psychic pokemon sort of fits his vibe? And I am torn between Chimecho and Espurr. Espurr is supposed to have difficulty controlling its power, so maybe Chimecho and Yutu could have been focused on helping one out. Cater is super underrated so why shouldn't I give his Yutu two pokemon, it'd be very cute.

Ace! Yutu is pikachu coded to me <3 They would fight so much because both pikachu and Yutu are little brats but once they get in sync watch out they're super scary. Easily the pokemon most excited to see Yuu again... perhaps all that ego clashing is just something that happened in Yuu's world because pika and Yutu bonded while grieving Yuu. Maybe Yutu never evolves his pikachu because that's how Yuu gave it to him. Maybe Pikachu doesn't want to evolve because that's how Yuu left it.

Deuce! Yutu... there aren't any explicitly chicken pokemon outside of maybe Moltres but there is Togepi who is an egg. Baby Yutu loves his bestest friend in the whole wide world, Delinquent Yutu is sort of embarrassed by them. After he catches a houndoor he stops actively using them in battle... he doesn't hate Togi, he just doesn't let anyone in his gang see them and gets really violent with anyone who might try to hurt them. Probably defends fairy types any chance he gets before stammering out some sort of excuse trying to play it off as someone else's opinions. Maybe his boys catch on and one of them gets the idea that maybe they could like... start using impidimps. Make Grimmsnarl the icon of the gang instead of Houndoom, just cause you know maybe fairies are kinda neat maybe. they all want it to be togi instead please boss we made them a little biker jacket isn't it so cu- i mean badass?

Leona! Yutu is loved by cats and he loves naps. Litleo feels like the most thematic pokemon for him, maybe they were napping under a tree one day and a Munchlax decided to follow him home because sleeping on Leona! Yutu was actually pretty warm and Yuu makes the best snacks. His dad probably didn't appreciate the correlation between him and his son's pokemon but as I have said before, he's very much that dad who doesn't want the cat but ends up asleep on the couch with it in his lap two days later. Except this time it's him feeding all his vegetables to Munchlax.

Ruggie! Yutu is my little dandelion prince so he gets a Hoppip. I like the idea of him coming home with one stuck in his hair and they've been best friends ever since. He feels like the one most likely to take over training Yuu's team, if he had continued living in your world I don't think he would have become a trainer. He would have been happy to have a normal job and maybe never evolve his pokemon, but he doesn't regret taking on the role of trainer in the bad future. It gives him a lot of self confidence.

Jack! Yutu... I will bestow him the honor of giving him one of my favorite pokemon. He gets Cacnea because Yuu remembers that Jack liked succulents. Yutu is very serious about taking care of him and making sure he has the best possible habitat at home. Cacnea is under the impression it is doing the same for Yutu and Yuu, but the stubby little hands it has make helping with chores difficult.

It's really tempting to give all of the Octatrio kids water type pokemon, maybe left over memories from Twisted Wonderland make Yuu think that would be a good idea. But I want to give Azul! Yutu a Clobbopus sosososososo bad. It's such a cute pokemon and I think Yutu would agree that his pokemon is super cute. So does everyone in Savanaclaw much to his annoyance, it's like his pokemon is the dorm leader and not him.

Jade! Yutu feels like a Mareanie guy. Water type since he's a merfolk, poison type because that's pretty punk rock, and it looks just enough like a mushroom to be thematic. I could see one of Yuu's pokemon staying in Twisted Wonderland with Jade... a Shiinotic who helps him at the bar and is the best cared for mushroom out there that Yutu is envious. Why does his parent's pokemon love his dad so much? Why won't it agree to come with him into the past where you are still alive because it insists on staying with Jade, saying that's what you would want?

Floyd! Yutu's favorite pokemon ever since he was a little boy was Sharpedo. He asked, suspiciously politely, to be given one when he was old enough to get his trainer's license. He even made a power point, how cute! The answer was still no, instead Yuu convinces the lab near by their house to take Yutu on as one of those trainers with a pokedex who goes on a journey to collect all the gym badges. He really likes being a trainer, probably would have been the annoying rival to his next door neighbor, definitely picked whatever pokemon was strongest against whatever they picked. He still catches his Carvanha and doesn't hold it against Yuu for not giving it to him, he thinks that was probably for the best.

Kalim! Yutu deserves a Whooper. It's cute, the little face is always smiling and Whooper and Quagsire are such joyful little guys I think Kalim would love them. Oricorio feels like a good choice too because of how much it likes dancing... but I feel like Yutu would have a hard time choosing what form to train because they are all so cool. His dad would be such an enabler, sure son lets have all four! And throw a themed party for each one lol

Jamil! Yutu also feels like a good candidate for a pokemon rival. Sure, Ekans and Arbok feel like good pokemon for him thematically, but I just know he would have a well balanced and thought out team of pokemon he deeply loves and takes great care of. Keeping with the snake theme, lets say he started out with Snivy. Serperior fits Jamil's overall vibe pretty well, it's a beautiful pokemon and very regal. Other pokemon I could see him having are Gastrodon, Clefable, and Scizor.

Vil! Yutu loves to draw but I do not like Smeargle in the slightest and will be pretending it does not exist. I feel like anyone attached to Vil should get a Buneary, it's a cute pokemon with a friendship evolution who has real hate in its heart. It is more like Vil than any poison type pokemon fr fr. I could see Vil! Yutu doing well as coordinator, but being a bit uncertain of who else he wants to add to his team, but catching an evee with the intent of evolving them into... something he just doesn't know what.

I hit the text block limit lol, I should just. Stop being distracted by cassette beasts and get back to writing. Or replay a pokemon game.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #future kid au #pokemon au #i have thoughts for everyone else just hit the limit lol #what is everyone's favorite pokemon anyway?

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romanoffsbish · 1 year ago

Text

Shelter me From the Storm

Actress!Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stripped Bare (Part 1) / Two people asked for this and I already had the ideas so boom. 😂

Warnings: Loss of Parent / Grief. Post-Partum Depression (Not mentioned, but heavily implied—hygiene/eating struggles, struggle to bond/help). Media (Implied lack of respect for Sex Work).

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report, it’s labeled properly.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Natasha's raspy voice startled you, but it also soothed your aching soul. It'd been exactly two months since the two of you moved to Oregon to officially start your life together. "My mom, us, them."

The redhead nodded solemnly, worried eyes casted down onto your fidgeting hands. She settled down beside you on the porch swing, and took your freezing hands between hers. Gently as ever she kissed, and breathed onto them until she deemed them warm enough.

"You couldn't have worn mittens?" She teased, then her strong arms wrapped around your body so she could pull you into her lap. Her forehead leaned against yours as she tried her best to comfort you. It was you who broke the distance and pressed your lips to hers for a kiss that reminded you that you were really there.

——

You were still alive, even if your mom wasn't. The thought broke you, this idea that Apollo and Luna would grow up without her love.

"I miss her," you sniffled, and the redhead sighed empathetically, "Me too moya lyubov'."

A smile graced your face at the memories of Nat with your mom. They'd only known one another for a little over a year, but your wife stole your mother's heart instantly. The sick woman never missed a chance to talk to her, even if it involved interrupting your convos.

They had a pure love of you in common, so it was easy for them to spend hours talking. It warmed your heart, but also infuriated you to no end when your mom shared your secrets.

Natasha never needed to know about your failed prom, or about how you believed in Santa and his friends until sophomore year.

The redhead loved to tease you about it, even now, "Who else will tell me all your secrets?"

"Thank fuck that's over," you sadly joked, because embarrassing as it was, you'd let your mother release all of your most embarrassing moments in life if it meant she was still here.

"Ooh, What about Cole?"

You snorted, "Not if he wants to stay alive."

"You're no fun."

Silence soon fell over the both of you as you watched the rain harshly pelting down. The pavement, and dirt saturated in no time as mother nature wept, you weren't sure of her reason, but you liked to think it was for your mom. She loved the rain, it never presented as an inconvenience to her like it did for others, you remember chasing the rainbows with her.

Losing her was polarizing really. It was always coming, but you were never prepared for it.

All that really brought you comfort since she passed, was that she met your daughter first.

Luna Romanoff, the little girl with your wife's cheeky smile, and your mothers love for music.

At only ten months old she was a little rockstar. The xylophone was her go to instrument, it made you feel like your mom's name as her middle prophesied their clear connection. They had met, then five hours later your mom died.

Natasha took care of everything after, she still does some days when you can't manage. You usually feel bad, but every time she senses it, and reminds you that there's nothing else she'd rather be doing than caring for her family.

"I'm going to miss you too," you finally broke it, voice cracking as your emotions got the best of you. "I wish you didn't have to leave at all."

"Me neither," Nat replied in the same tone, a tear slipped down her face as she stewed over her departure this evening. Leaving you in such a vulnerable state wasn't easy, but she hadn't a choice as she had to do a slurry of interviews for her upcoming film, as well as clear the air on her sudden disappearance from Hollywood.

It was the only way the execs would let her off the hook for the premiere. The buzz from her interviews will give them enough scandalous PR. Especially when she announces this will be her last film for a long while. The seats will fill.

She'd pleaded for zoom interviews, but even being as big as she was, they wouldn't budge.

"I wouldn't go if I had a choice," she reminded you for the umpteenth time. "I know Natty."

"It just sucks," she voiced your thoughts.

You chuckled humorlessly, "Majorly."

The sudden sound of a cry through the baby monitor brought you and your wife out of your bubble of intermixed grievances, and right into the house where you found a shocked Apollo hovering over Luna's traveling bassinet.

Five minutes ago they were peacefully napping, one in a heap of blankets and toys, while the other was cozy in her bed. It was safest not to move your son, he'd have woken up lively.

Where he lays, he stays—a household motto.

The scene was clear as day, he'd climbed up onto the couch with a devious curiosity, and now it appears the young boy had slapped her.

Natasha swiftly moved to the side of the couch, stopping your son from repeating the offense with a gentle catch of his hand. With ease she scooped the boy onto her hip, then she lovingly reached down to smooth a hand over your daughters face. Her cries stopped instantly.

After your daughter was soothed you watched quietly as Natasha handled your son. Her look was stern, but her eyes were still adoringly soft. There was no true harm done, it was clear Luna was mostly just shocked, not genuinely hurt.

Plus, he's only two, this was like a canon event.

"Apo," she called his attention to her with the nickname derived from his inability to say his. "You have to be gentle," she softly reminded him, using her hand to mimic proper touch as she continued to brush her hand over your daughters face until she was sleeping again.

Apollo butchered the word as he repeated it, but he mimicked her perfectly. Tiny hands covered in god knows what reached out to cup her face, something he'd seen done before. Both of your hearts beamed at the boy for his slow, but steady understanding. This would probably happen again, from both ends, but you knew that it would be an easy resolution.

Natasha's gentle approach to the kids was a surprising discovery you'd made. Not that you expected her to be downright cruel, but you just expected more sternness from your former experiences. But then you remember the Natty that you'd loved was always there back then too, and then it all makes sense. The first time you witnessed it was when your infant son was playing with an extension cord. You wanted to run over and rip it from his hands, but she'd stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

Instead she walked over to him, created some static electricity with her hands then tapped his. It seemed almost cruel, but then she picked him up as he wailed, then that soon faded into hiccups and it all became clearer to you.

He'd wanted her attention all along, and she taught him a valuable lesson in the process.

The gentleness came right after, when she held him close while she hummed a Russian lullaby to soothe him. All the while pointing to the enticing cord and saying a simple, firm no-no.

You remember watching them fondly, with a smile on your face, a hand on your bump, and a subtle sense of relief that'd washed over you.

No matter what came, you knew you'd all be safe with Natasha. Parenting was a learning curve, without your mom to guide you you've lost it, but you felt like she'd had it mastered.

That's why after the night slowly crept in you anticipated the arrival of your little brother. He's flying in from New York, and should be to your house by 8:30pm, and Nat has to be gone by 9pm, or she knows she'll never make it.

Apollo had already gone down for the night, but Luna Bear was still a live wire. Bouncing on her mama's hip while haphazardly shaking her head side to side in a tiring game of 'no-no'

"Wow, you've gotten so big Lunar Eclipse," your brother greeted the giggling baby, who turned to him with a wide, curious smile. Natasha sent him one as well at the relief she felt since she no longer had to shake her head.

"Luna," you corrected with a fixed glare. "I've been meaning to ask you about that sis."

"Cole," you warned through gritted teeth, and for the first time Natasha had realized the help she planned might actually be the bother.

"Why would you name your kids like animals?"

Natasha glared at your brother just the same, coddling the baby into her chest with a hand over her ear to shield her from hearing him

"You're the most annoying person on Earth," you deadpanned, he gasped in offense. "Give me the cat, and say your sappy goodbyes."

Natasha's arms around your waist stopped you from chasing your cackling brother down as he took your giggling daughter into the house.

"Don't leave me with him," you pleaded. "I won't look good in an orange jumpsuit Nat."

Natasha snorted softly, "You're so dramatic." Then she leaned in to kiss you slowly, a bunch of unspoken words being exchanged: 'I'm only a call away,' 'Don't kill your brother, please,' and 'Seriously, call me if you need me,' but the most important of messages came tumbling from your very own parted lips, "I love you."

Natasha smiled against you, she instantly repeated the sentiment, "I love you too Y/N. With all of me. You'll be okay detka. Promise."

The driver honked impatiently, and you fought off the urge to flip them off. Natasha rolled her eyes as she saw the petty conflict behind yours. "I'll be back in three sleeps sweetheart, you take care of yourself while I'm gone please."

Natasha sighed as she saw you bite your lip, a nervous habit of yours she'd become familiar with. You never wanted to disappoint Natasha, but you felt like you always were when you couldn't even manage the mundane tasks.

"It's hard, I know it is," she sympathized with your newfound wave of inability. "But eat, drink water, and sleep whenever possible."

"I'll try," you whisper against her chest as she hugs you close for a final moment. "That's all I ask moya lyubov, you deserve to be nourished."

"Three days," you whispered, your eyes shut tight as you reeled in your emotions. You could break down when she made it onto the road.

"Then there'll be no more leaving, we got this."

"Safe travels Natty." You kissed her cheek, then made the move to slip from her grasp, knowing all too well that she wouldn't willingly let go.

As you entered the house she watched, making her driver more irritated but she didn't care. His paycheck was signed by her, therefore his patience was paid for. She watched closely and nearly broke down when she saw a little Luna crying as her hands slammed into the window.

It was strange, how the ten month old could understand the implications of her mother in the car, and it hurt the woman's aching soul.

Once you locked the door, and scooped your daughter up she told released a breath and told the driver he could take off as she sent off a worried text to Cole, begging him to keep an eye on you like he promised her he would.

Then she sat back and began to count down the milliseconds until she could return to you.

—

The following morning came with a wake up Facetime call, your wife waited until it was 9am your time, then spent hours virtually cuddling. Around 12pm she bid you farewell, as it was 3pm in New York, her interview was for 6pm, but with makeup and wardrobe it was time.

It was live, so at 3pm you'd ensured the babies were already down for a nap, and settled onto the couch in some clean pajamas with your emotional support water bottle, and chips.

Natasha looked beautiful as she crossed the stage, with practiced elegance she flashed her award winning smile, and you swooned. It felt like it was directed at you, and with it being your Natasha you realized it probably was.

They discussed the movie, it was a smooth interview, until the hot topic, you, came up.

"So, tell me Natasha, who's the mystery girl?"

Natasha instantly grimaced, but quickly shook the expression for one of happiness. "My wife."

"Wife, huh?" He chuckled nervously, you both saw a question on his mind designed to send you spiraling. "Fans across the globe really thought you'd end up with Wanda Maximoff."

Natasha breathed harshly through her nose, it took all of her patience to remain composed.

"Wanda is nothing more than a lifelong friend." Natasha cooly replied. "Who's happily engaged, need I remind you, to The Vision Stark."

"Hindsight is 20/20," he jested awkwardly.

"Mhm," Natasha hummed, not even humoring the man with a response as she watched him fumble through his note cards for more. She smiled, it was perceivably smug, and made you feel something you'd yet to in almost a year.

He took a steadying breath before his face relaxed, then he continued his futile attack.

"I have it on good authority that your wife, Y/N Y/L/N." Natasha cut him off, "Romanoff."

"Sorry," he replied annoyedly, "We've been informed that Y/N Romanoff was a stripper."

Natasha nods thoughtfully. "Is there a question there, or are we just stating useless facts. If so, I'd like to inform you your tie is on wrong."

Your eyes widened, in all your years of knowing of Natasha, you'd never seen her so snarky. It was really hot, and you truly couldn't deny it.

"I guess, if it wasn't obvious," he starts shakily, as if he feared the 5'3 redheaded woman. "The world is wondering if that's how you met."

"Well, the honest answer is yes." The audience gasped, she rolled her eyes behind her lids knowing they were likely prompted to do that for shock value alone. "I know right? How shocking that rich people still go to strip clubs."

Her eyes then narrowed onto the nervous host. "As if you yourself aren't a regular Johnny."

"Jimmy," he timidly corrected and she laughed. Boy did she laugh, it was mocking, and had the man sweating through his shirt. "My apologies, so tell me Jimbo, does your wife know what happens during the actual late nights? We both know this show is mislabeled. It ends by 7pm, but your life is only just beginning then right?"

The raven haired man gulped, it was clear Nat was prepared for his intrusive questioning. You caught sight of Natasha's sideways smirk just as the show cut to a commercial, and when it returned your wife was no longer there. Cole snickered from beside you, "Mom would have loved to see this, God, I adore your wife Y/N."

You hummed your agreement, then left him to tend to the crying babies while you answered your wife's phone call. She was panicking, but you reassured her that it'll be okay. That her die hard fans wouldn't leave, and that with the progressive nature of Hollywood that she'd likely receive accolades for her honesty, and her overall support of the sex work industry.

Even if you both knew it wasn't a guarantee, Natasha couldn't help but to believe you. In the end, if this is where her career ended she didn't mind. She had more than enough money to retire, and she still would have her business.

Natasha ended the call after you'd calmed her as she had more interviews to prepare for.

It felt fulfilling being there for her, helping her through a freak out for once instead of it being the other way around. You knew it wasn't a competition, but it's hard to think otherwise when it's always you on the visibly weaker end.

There was a renewed confidence in your step now, and it showed when you fixed lunch for the whole house instead of letting Cole. You'd ushered him off to play with the kids, and got comfy with the concepts of cooking again.

—

When the next day came you got to hear from Nat sporadically. She told you all about her day, the highlight apparently came when she got to answer fan's questions while playing with cats. You rolled your eyes, knowing now that she'd be insufferable until you finally said yes to her taking in the stray kittens that lived amongst Wanda's garden. The brunette wanted to take them to a shelter a week ago, but Nat told her she'd win you over soon enough.

She begged again before she got off the call, and she was right, because that evening you sent her a picture before she went to sleep of a relieved Wanda on your doorstep with a box.

Natasha called you on the verge of tears, she'd only hung up the phone an hour ago so she could take a shower and get ready for bed. It was only 4pm for you, and 7pm for her, but she had an early morning interview before she was then meant to catch an afternoon flight home.

So, after she thanked you profusely, she settled down in her bed, and you on the couch as you pulled up her most recent interview done with Clint Barton. An actor turned talk show host.

He was also her very best friend, so of course she gave him the tell all story others wanted.

"So Natasha," Clint started with a teasing smirk. "Mhm?" She hummed playfully, her eyes softly rolled as a smirk overtook her face.

"When do I get to meet my niece and nephew?"

"Whenever you catch a flight out to Oregon."

"That's right," he bounces off her seamlessly, "You made the bold move to the Beaver state, what is in Oregon that's not in LA or NYC?"

"Peace," she answered simply. "It's gorgeous, and it's where my love wanted to end up."

Clint smiled, it was incredibly genuine as he admired the lovesick one your wife wore. The man has yet to meet you, but he plans to hug you tightly in silent thanks for changing her life for the better and making her this happy. He's watched her through every phase, the partying, all the meaningless hooking up, to the present.

Where she is outwardly softer, but as expected she is still guarded where she needed to be.

"Your love," he acknowledges, a slight tease to his tone as he met her eyes again. "Why don't you tell me all about who's taking you from us."

Natasha glared at him, but it was a playful way, that she agreed to, to ease her into her purpose for this interview. "You know Clint, I've been acting ever since I was a kid," she thoughtfully began, "It's all I've ever known honestly. It's been my greatest passion for three decades."

She took in a steadying breath, then sighed while wearing a shy smile, "It wasn't until I met her that I envisioned more for myself," her cheeks reddened at the thought of exposing herself in such a vulnerable way to the world.

Acting, telling others stories, was what she did best, but it felt foreign to tell her own like this.

With her eyes closed she imagined your smile, then she heard the memory of your kids giggles and suddenly it was the easiest decision. "Y/N is my light at the end of the tunnel, truthfully."

Clint nodded proudly, leaning back in his seat to metaphorically open the floor up to her.

"I know the world is already freaking out, some angry that I'm off the market, others mad that she's a former stripper, but I don't know why any of that matters to them." Natasha frowned as she tried not to cry. "People are saying my career will end with this, and to those people I say good fucking riddance. I've given almost every last piece of me to this industry, and if me finally choosing my happiness is a problem then I'll let it be for only them. I'm happier than I've ever been, and that is my truth."

"So, you're leaving Hollywood behind?" He asked for clarity, and she shook her head in a partial negation. "I have decided to take a step back, this upcoming film is going to be my final for an indefinite amount of time. I want to focus on my family, and I deserve a break."

"That you do Natasha," Clint acknowledged, behind him on a screen a slideshow of all of her hit movies began to appear. Emphasizing the focus of conversation. "If you retired today I'd say that you've left your mark on the world, even more so with those beautiful babies."

"They are my entire world." Natasha clarified, they were her legacy, sure, but they were so much more than that too. They were a perfect mixture of you both. Apollo with her distinctive eyes, and your sweet smile. Then Luna with her smile, and dimples and your huffy temper.

Both with their own blooming personalities.

The redhead smiled brightly when a photo then flickered on the screen of your little family. The four of you were sat on a park bench, Apollo stood on her lap with his hand pointing to something behind her, she had smiled at the camera, but her eyes focus was torn between him and the phone. Then sat beside her was you, with a blanket over your chest, shielding the hungry baby from the harsh Fall winds.

It was meant to be a cute family photo, and it still was, but far more dysfunctional than intended. Natasha had tried to get Apollo to turn around, but he wouldn't take his eyes off of the firetruck in the back. Then Luna cried, and it was clearly hunger so you let her latch on, and even then it could've been cute, but then she grunted angrily so you covered her.

"You guys look happy," Clint acknowledged, and the woman smiled fondly. "We are."

"Well, I hope that in a few years time we'll be able to see you back on the screen," Clint moves to wrap up the segment. "But if we don't, then I'd like to dedicate a moment of silence to the greatest loss in the industry."

"Oh stop it," she joked tearily, leaning forward to playfully shove his shoulder. Clint winked at the emotional redhead, then he yanked her up and into a bear hug. "Tell Y/N I look forward to meeting her," he whispered, then he planted a kiss on her cheek, and she left the stage with a chorus of loud applause following her.

You turned the TV off, then wiped at the few tears that she'd elicited from you. Seeing her so vulnerable on TV, all in an attempt to make the media go easier on you, was overwhelming. It made your heart swell with more love than before and you couldn't quiet grasp how you could even love her more than you already did.

It also made you want her more than you did yesterday. No longer was it a feeling you could ignore, but instead a deep seeded need you'd had every intention of satiating upon your wife's return. Which is why you rebooked your brothers flight home, and reminded him about that one time you covered for him when he rear ended your evil neighbor Mildred's parked car.

—

The last thing Natasha expected to find as she entered your house late at night was you. But on the couch you sat, with a glass of red wine, and in a matter of seconds you were on her.

"Moya lyubov' I said drink water," she groaned, but it was a humored one. You looked up at her with wide eyes, then you smiled innocently. "Would you believe me if I said that Jesus showed up and magicked it himself?"

"Oh, is that so?" She cackled in a hushed way, you nodded vehemently. "Scouts honor Natty!"

"Mhm?" She teasingly hummed, the vibrato felt as she pressed her lips to yours, and you gasped affectedly. Natasha tried to pull back, feeling guilty for looking like she was trying to initiate anything, but then she felt guilty for feeling guilty because of course she wants you.

"No," you whimpered and clung to her biceps. "Daddy please, I-I'm ready." You were wet, desperation was controlling your mind now.

"You're drunk detka," she pointed out, but you showed her the bottle, proving that you'd only poured the one glass and hadn't had more than two sips. Which was only for liquid courage.

"What's changed for you?" Natasha pulled you down into her lap, you whined in frustration, but then you saw the glossy viridescent orbs full of concern waiting for your reply.

"Seeing you lose your cool on TV over me was hot," you admitted shamelessly, stroking her big ego in the hopes that it'd soon be her cock.

The redhead blushed, but quickly regained her cool as she leaned back into the cushion of the couch and firmly gripped your thighs apart.

"Can I see how hot it made you detka?" Her raspy voice made you dizzy, you nodded and moaned a soft please so she eagerly padded at the wetness seeping through your panties. "Oh look at you detka, you're just so needy, huh?"

She cursed in Russian when you answered with a buck of your hips. With a swift hand she laid you down and said, "You have to be quiet."

You shook your head. "I reminded Cole of a secret I kept, so he collected the kids and all they'd need and went to the guest suite."

"I knew I married a genius," she teased, her heart nearly exploded as you laughed. It'd been so rare to hear nowadays, so it was cherished.

"What do you want moya lyubov'?" Natasha looked deep in your eyes, wearing a smile that said only your pleasure was enough for her.

Instead of answering you pulled her down with a hand wrapped behind the nape of her neck. The kiss was soft, almost exploratory as it'd been so long since you'd had a spike in libido. But when Natasha still remained timid you took the initiative, your hand cupped her bulge, and you slid your tongue over her bottom lip.

She gasped and your tongue pushed beyond her lips, but hers expertly swirled around yours then darted down your throat. As you gagged she couldn't fight off the aching need so she pushed down into your hand and moaned.

The redhead pulled away, panting heavily as she tried to reel her neediness in. You drove her body wild, but she didn't want to get too lost in the lust if you weren't ready yet.

"You've been so patient with me," you purred, "Let me take care of you daddy, please?"

Natasha suddenly stilled, her sorrowful eyes set on yours. "Hey no, detka, you deserve endless patience without expectations."

"Yeah, I know," you breathed. "But we went from having sex every few days to not at all."

Natasha smiled tenderly, her hand cupped your cheek. "That's fine, I don't need sex to be happy with you Y/N. You alone are enough."

"Well, that sentiment is returned, but I'm absolutely serious, so let me give you head."

Natasha was shocked by your bold words, it was a quick recovery though as she snorted, "If I ever say no, please do have me committed."

Natasha smiled triumphantly as you giggled, it always made her heart warm to hear your joy.

The mood swiftly returned to one of lust when after she leaned back you slid out and onto the ground on your knees. The woman was tired, jet lagged to be more precise, but that didn't stop her from helping you take her sweats off.

Natasha was undeniably aroused, her cock stood tall as soon as you slid her boxers off.

"You gonna stare all night detka?" Natasha teased, then her eyes softened. "If you're not ready, just say the word lyubov', it'll be okay."

You shook your head free of worry, and smiled at her for being so sweet. It was comically endearing. Here she sat with an erection that had to be hurting her at this point and she only cared about your comfort. Which actually only made you even more excited to suck her off.

Natasha groaned, the sound raspier than ever before as you traced your tongue over the veins of her cock. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch as your lips wrapped around her tip, and she nearly came on the spot as your hands steadily pumped up from the base of her cock as your other hand lazily played with her balls.

Her breathing became increasingly labored as you bobbed your head up and down her length, you could feel yourself dripping down your thighs as you'd gone commando beneath her sleep shirt. Hearing just how much she was enjoying this had immeasurably turned you on.

Natasha's hips involuntarily jerked. "Oh fuck." You giggled around her shaft, the vibrations making her do it again, and this time you'd choked. Universal instant karma you suppose.

Natasha stilled, fearful eyes looking down into yours. "I'm okay," you immediately said after gasping for air upon releasing her cock, you didn't move far though, you instead hovered her tip with a goofy smile for hopeful clarity.

"Are you close?" You asked, but with how her shaft continued to twitch beneath your fingertips you'd figured you had your answer. Natasha nodded, it was uncharacteristically shy and you found yourself wanting more soft sensual moments just like this one with her.

"Good." You mused. "Now how about you take over and cum down my throat as a reward."

The way you winked made the pit within her begin to unravel, Natasha's tip instantly coated in pebbles of white as you took over half of her length into your mouth, and proceeded to let her fuck your throat until it was raw. Your nails dug into the skin of her thighs that you were gripping for stability as she thrusted wildly, and glorious tears ran down your warm cheeks.

When she released down your throat the pleasure was blinding, her eyes slammed shut and she moaned for a prolonged moment as the hot spurts didn't stop. Strands of her cum slid down your chin along with your drool as she continuously thrusted until that wave of pleasure she was riding came to an end.

While you both caught your breath you began to get handsy, impatiently pulling at the hem of her shirt until she removed it with a huff of amusement. You then kissed up her body until her cock was trapped against her abdomen by your slippery cunt, and your lips met hers.

Natasha's hands fell to your hips instinctually, and she guided you as you slowly ground into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth. When you whimpered with need she pulled back and you were met with dark, lusty eyes.

"I know you want me inside detka," she teased as she ran a thumb over your swollen lip that was still somewhat coated in her essence. "But daddy's missed your pussy in more ways than one, and I can't help but to need to taste you."

"Please," you whispered affectedly, and she pulled you back in for a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Thank you detka, lay down for daddy now."

Natasha removed your shirt seamlessly as you laid down, the fabric had barely left your skin before you felt her hands all over your body. One second they were gripping you by the hips to keep you from bucking into her face, then they no longer cared as they sought out your breasts. Natasha's tongue flicked over your bundle of nerves just as her thumbs pinched your nubs, and your body writhed as you came.

The orgasm you experienced was intense as the aftershocks continued rolling through you, and in retrospect it was also embarrassingly quick. But it'd been so long and Natasha was just that good, she never struggled to get you to let go.

Every muscle in your body relaxed for all of two seconds, but then the redhead continued to lavish away at your cunt. Cleaning up your arousal, but then delving even deeper to pull another, somehow more intense orgasm from the depths of your soul. Stars bloomed behind the lids of your eyes as you screamed her title.

Over and over again too. Natasha was like a woman starved as she refused to leave her place between your thighs. When you tried to shimmy away she growled, it was terrifying, but in the best way as you involuntarily gushed.

You knew that if you really needed her to stop you could say your safe word, but as much as you felt overstimulated you felt just as good.

"Fuck I missed this," Natasha moaned as she continued to lick at your glistening, puffy cunt. "If I could, I'd never leave this sacred spot."

You were cognitively incapable of a verbalized response besides the occasional, pitiful whine.

Natasha admired your fucked out face briefly before turning your whimpers into loud moans as she wrapped her lips around your clit, and sucked harshly as she suddenly filled you with three of her skilled fingers, that now curled delicately into your g-spot with every thrust.

Tears streamed down your temples, matting your hair to your face, and seeping into the cushions of your couch. You came with a yelp this time, cum absolutely drenching the couch and leaving Natasha in awe. You however were hardly able to breathe, or see as the tears made your sight bleary. This was when your hands flew into her hair, tangling up in the locks as you used all your remaining strength to pull her up to your lips in a redirecting manner.

Natasha kissed you sloppily, her fingers now coming to a stop as she understood your silent pleas. Slowly, after distracting you with a swirl of her tongue around yours, she pulled out. You whined lowly at the loss, but your body appreciatively deflated into the cushions, and while you worked to calm down she began to kiss all over your skin in a calm, soothing way.

"We should go get you cleaned up lyubov'," she murmured against the skin of your neck that she'd been nibbling, your breathing had finally returned to an evened rhythm. "No, please."

Natasha pulled back to look you over, she was shocked to see your eyes desperate for more.

"Are you sure detka?" You frantically nodded, "Yes, fuck, I want you to fill me so bad daddy."

Natasha pressed her lips to yours, and slid her throbbing member into your slick cunt without a hitch. Neither of you were going to last long, and truthfully neither of you needed to. There was already stars where the ceiling once was as your lover pounded into your sloshing cunt.

"Gonna fill you to the brim detka," she moaned against the shell of your ear. "Can't wait to see your beautiful belly grow with my baby again."

Her breaths were hot as they fanned across your twice as hot skin. Every grunt she released brought with it a reactive clench of your walls, and it drove the woman atop of you insane.

Natasha came with a silent scream, her load unleashing havoc on your abused walls, you were a moaning mess as she slammed into your g-spot repeatedly as she chased this glorious high, milking it for all it's worth and herself as well in the process. When she came to a stop, and pulled out of you she gasped.

The amount of cum that oozed out of you was jarring at first inspection. Natasha had never released this much in her life, she's almost certain it's impossible for that much to exist inside a person at once but she just rationalized it as a delayed release for the year without sex.

There was no way you wouldn't get pregnant.

Especially not after Natasha thrusted back inside of you, mumbling something about preserving the chance that made you chuckle.

"Are you prepared for a third baby?" You teased your wife, with a hand mindlessly running through her hair as she laid with her face pressed against your chest. "I once told you detka, I'd make you my breeding bitch."

You cackled, chest shaking beneath her head to the point that she had to lift up and narrow her eyes at you. "I'm not sure why that's funny, but yes, I'm prepared for whatever life brings. With you by my side I'd willingly raise a dozen kids."

Natasha smirked when your humor died away, eyes wide with fear until she finally took over laughing for you. "God, you looked so scared."

You scoffed, "I was. That's a lot of c-sections." Natasha pursed her lips in thought, then she shrugged her shoulders. "Not if we have twins."

"We'll leave the twins to Maximoff," you soon decided over a yawn. "I think two more is fine."

Natasha leaned down to kiss your lips. "Two more sounds perfect. A simple family of six."

"There's nothing simple about you Natasha."

"Yet you love me anyways." You could hear the insecurity in her tease, and it hurt your heart to think someone ever made her feel unlovable. "That I do." You gently guided her lips to yours, kissing her slowly before you guided her face back to the crook of your neck. "Very much."

Neither of you spoke another word, you just laid there soaking in the warmth of your love before slipping off into a restful nights sleep.

The first in a long time actually, and the last genuine one before Raven and Leo arrived.

——

6,389 Words

Nat's former job: Acting / Y/N's: Stripping

Nat's current job: Breeder / Y/N's: To be Bred

❤️ Kaitlyn. 🤭

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg

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101flavoursofweird · 1 month ago

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Level 5 COULD have given Flora good writing (post-Curious Village)… just look at Janice

I think Janice (or Melina, but I’ll call her Janice for simplicity sake) fills a similar role that Flora could have so easily had…

Janice isn’t physically strong or powerful like Emmy. Sure, Janice knocks out two guards with Luke’s help, but she can’t fight off a small army— and that’s okay!

Despite this, Layton still lets Janice join them from the very start of the eternal life game. He doesn’t once argue that Janice should stay behind the stage curtain for her own safety. Granted, anyone who doesn’t compete in the game is shown to fall through the floor… but I still think it’s quite important that Layton doesn’t once worry about Janice’s presence out loud. During the prologue for PL4, Layton fusses even about Emmy’s safety, so this could be seen as a moment of growth for him!

Janice gets to interact with everyone from the start of her appearance— Layton, Luke, Nina, Whistler… We see flashes of her personality (Though it’s never distinguished whether this is Janice or Melina’spersonality!), like when she smiles at Luke’s antics, tucks Nina’s blanket around her, looks pensive when Whistler states Melina is gone, when she muses to a very confused Layton about the adventure being romantic, or when she excitedly compares the helicopter to a giant grasshopper…

Janice even makes some contributions during the game for eternal life, like when she helps build the helicopter or she tries to save Amelia from Descole’s guards. It’s not a lot but it’s something.

Yes, she gets kidnapped on her own by Descole but like… so does Luke? All the eternal life contestants are kidnapped technically? And then, when the gang are surrounded by wolves Descole tells her to sing in order to save THEM?

Despite Mr. Whistler’s efforts, it’s Melina’s decision to leave in the end. She teaches him that he needs to let go, while keeping her alive in his memories, and she teaches Janice that she needs to start living her own life again. This is, undoubtably, Melina’s story.

It might not be fair to compare Janice/Melina to Flora (whose writing is stretched out across a whole trilogy)… and I think Flora’s writing in Curious Village alone is good. Flora, similarly, gets the final say in what happens to St. Mystere— she chooses to let the robots keep on living, after previously being scared of her robot step mother— and it’s her decision to leave with Layton and Luke in the end.

Following this, Flora gets some sweet moments with Layton and Luke on the Molentary Express and in Dropstone. They’re like a little family at the festival!

Flora doesn’t get her own puzzle animation in the second game, which could be because we’re not meant to see things from her perspective when Don Paolo steals her identity. (Though that didn’t stop Level 5 during Miracle Mask when Descole was disguised as Angela?)

But for some weird reason, Flora just isn’t present in a lot of the cutscenes. Even when Layton and Luke step off the train and arrive in Dropstone?

Okay, maybe Level 5 just couldn’t be bothered animating Flora. A one-minute cutscene isn’t going to have the same amount of effort put into it as a 1hr 40 minute movie.

And again, Don Paolo disguises himself as Flora from when they leave Folsense onwards, so maybe Luke and Layton have less interactions with ‘Flora’ so the player won’t suspect anything. This is a good, shocking twist! And we get a nice scene in the epilogue with Layton, Luke and Flora on the train journey home. Flora doesn’t get any voiced lines outside of a hum, but she looks happy!

So, what’s Lost Future’s excuse? Flora doesn’t even get a single mention until Layton and Luke run into her back in the present… and then they leave her because ‘it’s not safe’!

Layton… Layton, I know you have PTSD after dying and losing a previous daughter-figure and after being betrayed multiple times and losing countless people in your past and Flora got kidnapped during your previous adventure… but this choice is garbage. This writing is garbage.

Lost Future is the fan favourite of the series, but Flora’s writing and Layton’s interactions with her suck. And Luke’s, who constantly puts Flora down for NO REASON. There’s sibling rivalry but then there’s just being plain rude.

Where was the respect Layton and Luke had for Janice? Where was the trust they had in Emmy?

I know, the OG trilogy was released way before Eternal Diva. Level 5 actually stepped up their game when it came to writing female characters during the prequel series. (I love Lady Dahlia and Katia, but tell me with a straight face that they got as much focus as Arianna or Janice or Angela or Aurora. Claire was incredible, but she died.)

But… Flora appears in the Eternal Diva prologue in a small cameo. The writers did such a good job with Janice’s character, so could they finally apply the same writing to Flora—?

No. Flora looks scared when Layton unveils Don Polo’s disguise. Layton then tells Flora to stay herewhile he and Luke chase after Don Paolo. That’s it. And Flora hasn’t appeared in the series since.

#professor layton #janice quatlane #Flora Reinhold #Melina whistler #Eternal diva #character analysis #curious village #oswald whistler #Hershel Layton #Long post #Flora Friday #*Gestures to Janice*: Good character writing #*Gestures to Flora in PL3*: What HAPPENED #Meanwhile Fandom Flora is thriving and getting the best character writing

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

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Out of Time Part Two - Nanami x f!reader

Click here for Part One!

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

cw: PIV sex (doggy, cowgirl), cunnilingus, fingering, spit play, nipple play, cum-eating, dirty talk, cream pie, multiple orgasms, just downright filthy smut, alright?

Word Count: ~3.7k

Summary: Finished with your thesis, and a huge weight lifted off your shoulders, you can finally focus on the only other thing occupying your mind the past forty-eight hours: Kento Nanami, the man you met two nights ago at your favorite bar, the one you shared an unforgettable evening with. Through serendipity, and with a little help from your friends, two well-acquainted strangers reconnect for one more night. Author's Notes: The very smutty part two of this little fic! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thank you!

One last tap of your mouse on the Submit button and your thesis is complete. A week from today, you’re scheduled to present it in front of your faculty advisor and a few other professors, which you’re not concerned about considering you’ve dedicated hundreds of hours of research to this topic. A week after that, you’ll be handed your diploma, officially a graduate. With the written portion finished, you feel a giant burden lifted off your shoulders, one that’s been weighing on you since the start of the semester. For the first time in months, you’re free.

You collapse onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling, smiling. Besides ridding yourself of the dreaded essay, there’s another big reason why you’re giddy: Kento Nanami. You’ve tried your best to keep him in the back of your mind, at least until you submitted your paper. However, it’s been quite the challenge, especially after the unforgettable evening the two of you shared two nights ago. It’s a faraway dream you let yourself indulge in. Too good to be true, too perfect to be real. You said your goodbyes without exchanging phone numbers. Still, it doesn’t hurt to fantasize about it. Right?

You check your phone for the first time since yesterday, basically isolating yourself from the outside world. There are several texts from Gina, making sure you’re alive. A couple from other group chats, the usual collection of messages you’re used to seeing after staying offline for more than a day. However, one from an unknown number captures your attention. You’re almost certain it’s spam, ready to block and delete without a second thought. You check it anyways, unprepared for what you’re about to read.

~~~

Two nights ago

Nanami presses his palms together, almost in prayer, tapping his fingers to his nose. He stares at Gojo, who has that typical shit-eating grin plastered on his face, typing away on his phone. After several minutes of discussion, Nanami agrees to accept Gojo’s help to reconnect with the woman he kissed tonight, the one who left him with this odd fluttering sensation in his belly.

“Alright. I sent it. Now we wait,” Gojo says, stretching his arms out. When there’s no response within five minutes, he stands up, getting ready to sleep, leaving his phone on the bed. Nanami is too anxious to leave his current position, willing for a reply to come soon. Thankfully, the universe grants his wishes, the phone vibrating and flashing a notification with Gina’s name on it.

“Gojo, she texted you back,” he yells out to his friend, staring at the screen. He’s tempted to check the message himself, but Nanami is still a man of reason, not wanting to invade his friend’s personal property.

“You can read it,” Gojo says from the bathroom, sounding like he has a toothbrush shoved in his mouth. “Go ahead, buddy. I know you want to.”

With permission granted, he unlocks the phone, clicking on the familiar icon to view their conversation:

Gojo: Hey beautiful, can you give me your friend’s #? Nanami is smitten and the dumbass forgot to ask for it.

Gina: LOL I’ll give it but tell the croissant man to text her AFTER she submits her thesis.

Gina: so in 2 days

Gina: and tell him she’s smitten too.

Nanami can’t contain his smile at the last text.

~~~

You read the message, so surprised, you double back and do it again, this time more carefully.

Hi, this is Nanami. Congrats on finishing your thesis. If you’re free tonight, we should celebrate.

A rush of thoughts invades your mind. Somehow, he found your number, most likely from Gojo, who asked Gina. But it’s the fact that he wanted to find you, to contact you, that has your head spinning in a pleasant frenzy. You were convinced that after that night, you’d never see him again. You also assumed that him living in Tokyo, almost one hour from here, would be a deal breaker. But if there’s one thing you learned about Nanami that fateful night, it’s that he’s a man of many surprises.

His last sentence sticks out to you the most. He’s offering to celebrate tonight. Does that mean he’s willing to take the hour-long journey just to see you? Or is it possible that he’s here? Not one to entertain mysteries, you decide to give him a call instead of responding through text. First, you save his number under his name, resisting the strong urge to add a little heart emoji next to it, then you prepare yourself before dialing.

After two rings, he picks up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Nanami. It’s me.”

He chuckles softly. “It’s you.”

“I’d love to take you up on your offer. Maybe we can meet halfway so you don’t have to travel so far.”

“That’s unnecessary. I’m actually still here.” He hesitates before continuing. “I booked the hotel room for a few more nights. Gojo left and it’s just me.” Another pause. “I’m not trying to seduce you or anything, but I would really like to see you again.”

You giggle to yourself, though you’re sure he hears it too, with the way you catch the hitch in his breath. “Me too. Let’s meet at the same bar then, tonight at 8. We can grab a drink or something.”

“Or something,” he repeats, the grin on his face audible through the phone. “That sounds wonderful. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Oh, and Nanami?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I’m in the mood to be seduced tonight.”

With that, you hang up, smirking, heading to your closet to find the perfect outfit.

~~~

Nanami doesn’t get flustered easily, but whatever powers this woman possesses over him, it’s working. Because he is most definitely flustered.

Maybe I’m in the mood to be seduced tonight.

Her parting words replay in his head over and over. In all honestly, it shouldn’t surprise him, considering what they almost did inside that karaoke room. Still, he’s caught off guard by her boldness. And very much turned on. He paces his hotel room, checking his watch to calculate how much time he has until they meet. A couple hours to go. He’s tempted to call her and see her now, but he doesn’t want to come on too strong. He reminds himself that patience is a virtue, and tonight will be well worth the wait. There are a few errands he thinks of to distract himself, the day passing relatively quickly until it’s time for him to get ready.

He steps out of the hotel around 7:50 PM, dressed in his typical attire: tan suit, navy blue dress shirt underneath, and his signature spotted tie. His glasses are tucked inside his breast pocket for safe keeping. As he crosses the street to approach the bar, he feels the nerves jittering through his body. He doesn’t want this to end up being a big disappointment, for either him or her.

Upon entering, he doesn’t expect to see her yet. Nanami is used to being early to things; he prides himself in being punctual, and rarely expects that from anyone else. So when he does spot her, standing at one end of the bar, stunning in a black dress that accentuates her beauty in the most dazzling way, all his worries disappear. The only thought in his mind is that he wants this woman, needs this woman. And if it’s only for one more night, he’s going to make the most out of it.

She immediately notices him, a bright smile on her face as he walks towards her. With a wave, she greets him. “Nanami. You found me.”

“I found you,” he responds, returning her grin. “Congrats on finishing your thesis.”

“Thank you. I’m so relieved.”

There’s a slight pause as Nanami studies her, trying not to be too obvious. She does the same, her eyes slowly checking him out from head to toe. Deciding to be completely candid tonight, no holding back, he says, “You’re beautiful.”

She giggles, averting her gaze away from him, nervous. “Thank you.”

“Why did you have to wear a dress like this tonight?” he asks, leaning closer to her. He wants to touch her hand, hold it between his. The memory of them dancing together in the karaoke room the other night feels distant; he wants to remember the softness of her skin, the way their fingers lock together perfectly.

“Do you not like it?” she asks.

“You know I do.”

“So what’s the matter?” She bats her eyelashes, teasing him. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Something in him snaps. He can’t control himself anymore. The desire to finish what they started takes over. Bowing his head, he whispers in her ear, “I’m trying to be good, I really am.”

With a wicked smirk on her face, she replies, “I don’t want you to be good. I want you to be mine.”

Minutes later, they’re stepping into the elevator of the hotel, hand-in-hand, Nanami’s face flush, anticipating what’s about to occur. Once the doors close, he remains still, desperately wishing she makes the first move. Seconds in, his wish is granted. She tugs at his tie, pulling him in for a kiss, hungry and eager. His hands roam to her waist, gripping her tightly, fingertips pressed shallow into her flesh through the fabric. He can’t wait to strip this off her, worship her bare body, touch every centimeter of her supple skin. Run his tongue along her most sensitive spots, make her whimper in pleasure. It’s all he’s thought about the last two nights.

Once inside the room, he gently pushes her against the closed door, kissing her deeply, tongue swirling around hers. His fingers reach for the zipper behind her dress, slowly pulling it down until it’s split, exposing her back. He feels for the clasp of her bra, undoing it in an instant. She undresses from the top, shoving the clothing off her shoulders and wiggling out, now naked from the waist up. He admires her breast before dipping down to wrap his lips around her nipple, tugging at it between his lips as she hums in pleasure. He’s gentle with her, unsure what her limit is when it comes to things like this. But he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

“You can suck them harder, if you want,” she whispers, watching him. “I like it a little rough.”

It takes everything in him to not growl on the spot. He feels like an animal in heat, lust fueling every carnal desire he possesses. Permission granted, he suckles at her peaked tits, his entire mouth surrounding her breast. His free hand grasps at her other nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger, teasing her until she swears wantonly, “Oh fuck!” Her head thrown back against the door, eyes shut tight, fingers buried in his blonde hair. He flicks his thumb across her swollen teat when he relaxes his grip. He wants her sore and satiated when he’s done with her. Test out all the ways he can make her come, whether from his cock, his fingers, his mouth. Whatever he can do; he wants to give her his all tonight.

In a haste, he sheds his tan blazer, tossing it to the floor. The rest of his outfit follows, until he’s clad only in his briefs, with his erection tight against the fabric, a spot of precum leaking through. She makes her way to the bed, sliding the rest of her dress off, panties clinging to her, waiting for him. He hurries over, grinning as he positions himself beside her, caressing her cheek, kissing her slowly, relishing the way her mouth melts into his. His fingers gradually trail down, memorizing every curve of her body, in case they run out of time again. He’s unsure what the future holds for them. So he’ll spend the entire night if he has to, learning everything about her until he knows her like the back of his hand, until she’s familiar in his mind.

He breaks the kiss to latch his mouth onto her breast, cupping it in one hand, his other between her legs, silk panties already damp. Rubbing at the wet spot, his cock twitches, feeling her arousal on his fingertips. She spreads her legs wider, moaning, running her fingers along his tousled hair. “I love it, Nanami. I love it.”

He hooks his finger around the crotch of her panties, sliding it off completely. With a pop, he releases her from his mouth, kneeling beside her to study her naked form. “God, you’re so beautiful. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

She sits up, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m the lucky one.”

“We’re both lucky, then,” he says, nuzzling his nose to hers.

Giggling, she presses her lips to his. “Didn’t think you’d be this lovey-dovey.”

“Do you want me to be mean? I can do that too.” He nips at her bottom lip, smirking.

She laughs again. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Oh, you’re asking for it, aren’t you? Naughty girl.” He grabs at one of her ass cheeks, squeezing at her plush flesh. “Always trying to seduce me.”

“Who, me? I’m innocent,” she teases, pouting at him. She palms the erection confined in his briefs. He bucks his hips at the contact, swearing, “Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I need to taste you now.”

Leaning back against the pillows, she spreads her thighs wide with a wicked look on her face. “Go ahead, then. Help yourself.”

~~~

Your cheeks are hot with arousal, nipples swollen and sensitive from Nanami’s torment. His erection is strained beneath his underwear, unbearably uncomfortable. He slips his thumb beneath the band and slides it down his legs, boner springing free against his abdomen. Your pussy throbs, yearning for his thick girth inside you. Without wasting any more time, he positions himself between your legs, flicking his tongue at your clit. His lips surround you, sucking at your bud until it’s plump in his mouth, swishing his spit around it. Pleasure radiates from your core, causing you to spasm. He hums against your skin, amused at your reaction, his movements becoming sloppier by the second the deeper he dives into you. He teases his middle finger along you entrance. “Can I finger you?” he asks, voice muffled as his tongue continues to work on you.

You nod erratically, willing to agree to whatever he offers you. He slides in slowly, the lewd squelch of his thick finger against wet skin enough to push you close to the edge. He inserts his ring finger next to the middle, curling the tips as far as they can reach, brushing your sweet spot. That, in conjunction with the relentless slurping of your clit, has you in a fucked-out daze.

Without warning, he pulls out of you, causing you to whine from the sudden emptiness. He studies his digits, glistening in your arousal, and sticks them inside his mouth. You watch with your tongue lolling out of your mouth in a dumb expression, in awe as he slurps and swallows your slick like a treat he’s been waiting for all fucking night. He smiles at you, meeting your gaze, clearly enjoying your expression at the little stunt he just performed. “Are you okay?” he asks, lowering himself back towards your pussy, waiting for your answer before he resumes.

You nod once more, too bewitched by him to respond coherently. He spits on your pussy, thick and syrupy, smearing it over your puffy clit. He repeats this a few times, drenching you in his warm saliva. Suddenly, it’s all too much. There’s tightness in your abdomen, body becoming rigid as your reach your high. That doesn’t stop him; he continues to lap at your arousal, growling, “Come all over my face. Give it to me.” It’s not until your twitching from overstimulation that he slows down. With one last kiss, he pulls off, mouth and chin sticky with your cum. He licks around his lips, collecting whatever he can to swallow. You start to relax against the mattress, head dizzy from the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Still, you’re aching to feel him deep inside you.

“Don’t stop,” you utter. “I want you inside me.”

He looks at you, concerned. “Are you sure?”

You reach for him, tugging him close to you. “Absolutely sure. Don’t hold back on me.”

Chuckling in that low, sexy voice, he answers, “As you wish, princess.” He sits up beside you, rolling you on top of him so that you’re straddling his lap. “I want you like this,” he whispers into your ear, giving you a smack on your ass. You drape your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him securely, ready for the ride. He guides his cock inside you, slipping in smoothly. Breath hot on your ear, he asks, “Can you give me another one? Just one more before I come?”

You nod lazily without speaking, rocking your hips against him, hooked on the feeling of him buried deep inside you. He bounces you on his cock like his own personal sex doll, body pliant, slamming down easily on his dick. It’s addicting, the way he pumps into you, fucking your sweet spot like it’s never been fucked before. “Does this feel good? When I fuck this pretty pussy?” He scatters chaste kisses along your neck, dewy from perspiration.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you manage to say weakly, all your energy drained from being fucked into a frenzy.

“Make yourself come again. Want it really creamy,” he huffs, head bowed, watching his dick disappear in and out of your tight cunt. You moan at his filthy words, reaching between you, toying with your slippery bud. It doesn’t take long for you to come again, your sticky mess coating his cock with each thrust. “I’m coming!” you cry out, clenching his broad shoulders.

He follows, shooting his load inside you, thrusting until every last drop is released into your womb. You kiss him passionately, clinging to him closely, enough to feel the subtle thump of his heartbeat through his chest. It’s intimate the way your bodies meld to together, seamless and a perfect fit. Like it was truly meant to be.

You carefully lift yourself off his lap, collapsing next to him. You’re spent, light-headed from pleasure, convinced that the both of you have hit your limit. But, as always, Nanami surprises you. “I’m not done with you yet,” he says, dragging you roughly to the edge of the bed where he stands, grip firm around your waist. “I want to fuck my cum even deeper inside you. Fill you up so it’s leaking out until tomorrow morning. Think you can take it?”

This switch in behavior doesn’t alarm you; in fact, it spurs you on, makes you instantly forget about your foggy brain and tired limbs. You crane your neck to look at him, meeting his lust-filled gaze. “Oh fuck, Nanami. I want it. Give it to me.”

He doesn’t hold back, per your request from earlier, and he does give it to you, fucking you feverishly into the mattress. Face buried into a pillow, biting to muffle the shameless moans spilling out of your mouth with each savage thrust. The bed frame starts to creak, his movements becoming more erratic as he approaches his second climax. He sputters nonsense, spilling inside you, too sensitive now to speak coherently. It takes a moment for him to calm down, pulling out slowly to watch his cum dribble out of you. With a pleased smile on your face, you crawl towards the middle of the bed, not caring about the mess, and retreat under the covers, closing your eyes. You feel the bed sink, Nanami joining beside you, arms wrapping you in a snug embrace, lips pressed to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I got a little carried away. I’m not usually like this.”

You let out a small laugh, opening your lids halfway. “That’s what they all say,” you tease him, resting your palm on his chest.

“I mean it. If you feel at all concerned or offended by this, I – ”

You interrupt, placing a finger to his lips, shushing him. “Nanami, I liked it. A lot.” You hesitate before admitting, “I like you. A lot.”

His eyes widen at your confession. “What?”

Giggling, you repeat, “I like you, Nanami. I want to keep seeing you.” Suddenly, you feel embarrassed. You’re not even sure if he feels the same way about you. Quickly, you add, “If you don’t feel the same way, I understand. I can leave now if you want me to –”

It’s his turn to interrupt, this time with a kiss. It’s slow and smooth, no rush. When he breaks away, he whispers, “I like you, too. A lot. A whole lot.”

You kiss again, relief and glee swelling in your chest. The two of you fall asleep in each other’s arms, his chin tucked to the top of your head, your face nestled into the crook of his neck. Your steady heartbeats lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

~~~

Nanami can’t remember the last time he felt this kind of joy. In all honestly, maybe this is the first.

He wakes up in the morning, the sun streaming through the curtain windows, illuminating his hotel room with a brilliant golden light. Best of all, she’s snuggled into his body, comfortable and cozy, as if she belongs here. It feels right.

He watches her for a while before her eyelids flutter open. Catching him, she yawns, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost 10. We have to check out soon.”

Frowning, she says, “We’re out of time again.”

He nuzzles his nose to hers. “Just for today. But you and me, we have all the time in the world now, don’t we?”

She beams at him. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

They cuddle in silence for a few more moments before she suggests, “Want to get some croissants?”

Unable to contain his smile, he responds, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami fanfic #nanami smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #out of time

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bakugosatoru · 11 months ago

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MHA Boys Christmas Imagines.

Requests Open! Warnings: None Genre: Romantic Fluff Fic Type: Headcannons Fandom: My Hero Academia Authors note: Happy holiday season everyone! Sorry I've been a little missing in action but I have been spending holidays back home with my family but you know I couldn't stay away from our boys. I celebrate Christmas so that's what these imagines will be but if anyone wants other holiday ones just let me know! Have a wonderful holidays everyone. (P.S. This was written on my phone so please excuse any weird formatting)

Izuku

- You wake up to Izuku having cooked a gorgeous pancake breakfast for you. - "Good morning honey, Merry Christmas!" - If you were the type to wear matching hoodies or sweaters Izuku would be MORE than happy to indulge you. Matching Christmas sweaters or pajamas, you name it. -You'd have a mostly slow morning, cuddle on the couch and enjoy one another's company until about mid-day when you'd head to Inko's (Izukus mums) home for a late Christmas lunch/dinner -He's happy to spend any other day with your family or just the two of you, but Izuku insists on spending Christmas day with his mum. - She creates a gorgeous roast dinner for the 3 of you, it's incredible and you all happily sit around the table chatting and eating, Izuku holding your hand under the table the minute you finish eating. - Izuku is a very good gift giver. He usually gets you two or three lovely expensive gifts. He's the type to know exactly what you want even if you didn't. He's the kind to remember something you mentioned months before and get it for you for a suprise. - Inko is the type for hand made gifts, she knitted you and Izuku a matching set of gloves because she's worried about you both getting cold. - You spend the evening at Inko's home, happily dozing off on the couch watching an All Might Christmas special in Izukus arms. - "You make my life so much better my love, can't wait to spend the next year by your side"

Katsuki

- As much of he won't admit it, he loves having a big Christmas with both your family's together. - You usually travel up to stay with Mitsuki and Masaru a few days before Christmas. Katsuki puts in under the guise of 'helping the old geezers get the house presentable' but you know that deep down he loves spending time with his Mum and Dad. - You spend time with Katsuki, cooking and decorating, and as much as he feigns complaints, he happily joins you for any holiday activity you want to do. - "Eh? Gingerbread houses? .... Fine nerd but don't take all the icing you hear?" -When Christmas day finally comes, the house comes alive with laughter and chatter of your families, but Katsuki doesn't leave your side. -He is either holding your hand or standing behind you with his hands rested on your waist or wrapped around you - He also always keeps an eye on you to make sure you don't get overwhelmed by all the people, and if you do he'll take you into a quiet room to recharge for a little bit. -"You alright baby? Need a minute? Nah it's fine, the extras can wait, here come sit down." - When it comes to gifts, Katsuki goes absolutely over the top for you. Get ready for 8 to 9 boxes, all for you. - When the house finally quiets down, you and Katsuki help tidy up and head back to the bedroom your staying in. - "Hey, I know I'm not always the easiest to deal with sometimes.... but I love you, I love having Christmas with you, and I wanna spend all of next year with you too. I love you nerd"

Shoto

- Shoto really isn't a massive fan of big family gatherings... for obvious reasons. - His dream Christmas is just with you and maybe some friends. - You really want to make this Christmas special for him so you decorate the house while he's on patrol a few days before. - On Christmas morning you make lovely french toast for him and hot cocoa. - "This looks amazing angel. Thank you" - He helps you set the table and do some cooking for the friends Christmas lunch your having. -Izuku, Katsuki, Eijiro and Denki rock up around mid-day with gifts and side-dishes. - You have a lovely Christmas lunch with all your friends and it seems Shoto was able to get into the Christmas spirit a little. - After your friends leave that evening, Shoto drags you onto the couch and turns on a sappy Christmas movie before grabbing a few small presents. - "I'm not the best with holiday stuff... but I hope you like these" - You adore them, they are heartfelt jewellery pieces and other lovely small gifts. - You fall asleep curled up in Shotos arms, his fingers carding through your hair. - "I've never been a massive fan of the holidays... but with you, I'm starting to get why people love it. I love you and I want to spend every day of my life with you."

#mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha fanfiction #mha fluff #my hero academia #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #shoto todoroki #shoto x reader #NinesWritings

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chickenfics · 4 months ago

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the way I love the ocean

Relationship: Robin Buckley x Female!Reader

Summary: It was the summer of ‘87. Nothing in your life had prepared you for Robin, but somehow everything had begun falling into place. It all started with a movie and a pair of ocean-blue eyes, and suddenly you were dancing to a Jukebox in a long-closed diner, or racing down the length of a pier, swimming in the moon-dipped lake and walking her home down yellow-lit streets, talking about the way The Smiths sound like indigo and the best time of the summer is when the fireflies start to come out.

It was the summer of ‘87, and you were falling in love.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: ........ Hello, I am still alive. Good god, sorry for the wait -- I kept wanting to work on the final chapter and only recently got around to it but it's here! I adored writing this fic, even if it took me almost a year to finish it off. Thank you all for bearing with me, and I hope this final chapter is at least a little worth the wait. Love you all <3

Fic Playlist! Also on Ao3

Previous Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 8: Tango in the Night (Remaster)

"Remind me again?"

"Robin," you said, trying not to sigh. "Buckley. She invited me to the movies that one time..."

"Right, okay," your mom nodded. You sat your fork down.

You hadn't been eating dinner much with your parents. Between working at the diner and spending the night at Steve's, they'd started to notice -- and they'd started to suspect something was going on. Which, it sort of was. Just not what they thought.

"And that Harrington boy--"

"Is just a friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow at you.

"And anyways, he's not even going to be there."

“My parents are going to some festival this weekend,” Robin had said. “It's like this end-of-summer thing to celebrate the solstice, I don't know. Anyway, would you want to maybe come over?”

It had all come out in a rush. She’d been nervous. It was cute. She'd said to tell her with enough time for her to make her room presentable and “Not like a herd of raccoons lives here -- actually, what are a bunch of raccoons called?”

A gaze. That's what a bunch of raccoons are called.

You'd said yes.

"Good," your dad was saying. "Becauase you know how I feel about you spending the night with a boy."

"I know," you said, voice empty, just enough to get by.

There was so much your parents didn't know and even more they didn't understand. But that was okay. You had a coffee tin stashed under your bed. One night after staying late at the diner at the end of your shift, you, Robin, Steve, and Eddie had gotten it in your heads that, soon, Hawkins would see the last of you -- and the conversation by Steve’s pool had become less of a late-night musing and more of a reality that you could touch with your hands. The night ended with Eddie digging through the recycling bin and pulling out four coffee tins with a dismissive, “I’ll just, rinse them off in the sink or whatever” before handing one to each of you.

"Gross," Robin and Steve had said at the same time.

Four tins. Four incomes. A chance to get away. To find your own place. To make it if you had to.

"But not too far," Steve had said like he didn't really care even though he clearly did. And you had all agreed. Not too far. Close enough to still see the kids. Close enough for Eddie to see Wayne. Close enough…

So, what your parents didn't know wouldn't kill them.

“We’re just having a… girls' night,” you said, and it felt wrong, but it seemed right.

“That’s good,” your mom said. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

Your dad was silent, turning back to his dinner, and the topic passed. It stayed that way until you finished eating, stayed that way as you helped with the dishes, even stayed that way when you retreated to your room to grab your overnight bag. With all the spontaneity over the summer, you weren’t used to having a bag with you. Something about it felt final, like the way the nights were starting to get cooler and the kids were planning their last adventures before heading back to school. And, perhaps, the tin under your bed made everything feel changed. You couldn’t stop yourself from kneeling down to search it out behind folded sheets and old shoeboxes. Ten dollars and twenty-nine cents in odd change. It was a start. And the bag slung over your shoulder was just the beginning.

“Will you be home tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. I can call you.”

There was a dissatisfied silence. “Okay. Be safe, make wise decisions.”

“I will.”

Those two words cut the string binding you there. It furled away from you, carried by its own momentum. You waved goodbye to your parents and pulled the door shut behind you. Outside, the sky was blue and the air hummed softly with cicada song. The summer might have been coming to an end, but the pavement still swam with the heat and beads of sweat still collected across your forehead as you pedaled down the road, feet pumping, heart beating, every inch of it drawing you closer to where you wanted to be. To Robin. Maybe even something beyond that.

The world was starting to feel more like your own.

But, for now, the world was still only as big as Hawkins, Indiana, where all the streets you passed looked the same and you knew familiar faces were nearby. Familiar faces that you loved. That loved you. And you knew you’d carry that with you. You’d carry them with you wherever you went. It felt good, to know that. To feel it in your bones, in your soul, in everything that had ever made you who you are. Robin’s street was the only one you were looking for; white letters printed on a small blue sign. When you saw it you smiled, and then you turned your bike, and you thought about the time she’d helped you pull it out of Steve’s trunk and how that seemed like such a lifetime ago.

You left it along the side of the house, leaning it on a rock next to wildly growing vines and blooms of flowers, their petals starting to fall as summer was on its way out. They decorated the ground of the flower bed like a bright, living blanket. You never would have guessed that they’d fallen because they were already dead. Your bike, its pedals still whirring, became one with the image of Robin’s house. It fit in like it had always been there, along with the half-rotted shed in the backyard and the sun-bleached wood of the porch. There were repairs made, only evident by interruptions of brighter, smoother pieces of lumber. They hadn’t been weathered by time like the boards around them.

You left your bike, its pedals now slowing to a stop, along the side of the house, and you thought you’d be okay if was consumed by the vines, too. If it was covered up by a shower of petals. You thought it would be fine if it blended into the background completely, just another distant color on a polaroid or a picture in a magazine -- just another feature of a quiet house in a sleepy neighborhood where, from the outside, nothing particularly interesting was happening. On the inside, though…

Robin opened the door without a word -- found your pinky and linked it with hers without a word. And you hugged her. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around her neck as hers settled onto your waist, and you felt the warmth of her all at once, became overwhelmed with the smell of her chapstick and her hair and her skin. It was familiar in a way you’d never known possible at the start of the summer, mere months ago. It made your chest open up like a flower and bloom right there under the warmth of the sun she held within her. All you could do was take deep breaths of each other.

She tucked her face into your neck and you hummed lightly, sighed heavily, loved overwhelmingly. And outside, a leaf from the big oak tree in Robin’s yard -- the first leaf of the year to fall, perhaps a month too early -- drifted through the air and landed in the basket on your bike. And from the street, if anyone had been there at all, they could have seen Robin pull you through the door and spin you around to kiss you. If anyone had been there. If anyone had been looking.

_______________________________________________________

She gave you a tour of her home. Where she’d played with pots and pans when she was five. Where she’d kept her pet goldfish until it died when she was twelve and it was three. “I won it at the fair. I didn’t even know those things could live that long.” She showed you the porch where she’d lost her lucky bracelet when she was fifteen -- dropped it straight down one of the cracks between the boards. She wondered if it was still there. Wondered what had happened to it if it wasn’t.

“It was probably the raccoons,” you said, smirking at the amusement in the crinkles around her eyes.

“You should be a comedian. Then maybe we could all afford an apartment for real.”

She sat on her kitchen counter and stirred the brownie mix she’d started before you’d arrived because “I got nervous and didn’t know what to do with my hands.”

“Don’t you think we’ll make it?” you asked her, leaning by the sink. “I mean, with all four of us… I don’t know, I think we can do it.”

She set the bowl down next to her, kicking her feet softly as she pulled the spoon out and tilted it in her hands.

“I want to believe we can,” she said. “I mean, if anyone could make it happen, it’s us.”

And it was enough of an answer, even though it wasn’t really an answer at all. It was enough because you knew you’d never really have an answer. Life gave few certainties, and staying with the people you love wasn’t one of them. But in the same way, you couldn’t envision a life where you didn’t wake up next to Robin, or find Steve cooking breakfast in your kitchen, or see Eddie off to work every morning. You couldn’t imagine a version of Hawkins where they weren’t in your life. Funny, seeing as you hadn’t even known them before this summer. Lucky, how things work out.

But then, maybe they were one of your life’s certainties. Maybe it was always meant to be.

“And hey, if it doesn’t work out, we can always just go to the same retirement home,” she dryly joked, licking batter off of the spoon.

“You should be a comedian,” you grinned wryly.

“We can be a double act. Make double the money that way.”

The sun was setting as Robin pulled the brownies out of the oven. She had to leave her place between your legs to do so, and you sat at the kitchen table missing the warmth of her skin against yours.

“Well, at least I didn’t burn the house down,” she said, setting the pan on the stovetop.

“Shame Steve isn’t here to see it.”

Robin crept back over, frizzy strands of hair framing her face. You were pretty sure she’d washed it recently -- it always got frizzier when it was clean, and its strawberry smell was especially strong when she pressed her cheek against your ear.

Wrapping your arms around her back, you pulled her onto your lap. Sitting on your legs, she relaxed against you and traced lines across the base of your neck.

“Can you imagine,” she started, that quiet, contemplative tone to her voice. You loved her like this as much as you loved her joking and her energy. “Every day being like this? This… quiet. Just us.”

You hummed softly and rested your chin on her shoulder, hugging her tighter; feeling the weight of her.

“One day it will be,” you replied.

Robin inhaled a breath through her nose, shifting so her face was pressed into your neck. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you said. “I feel it in my bones.”

“In your bones…” Her smile pressed against your skin and you could hear the raise of her eyebrows in her voice. “Well, if your bones say so, then it must be true.”

“It is. You wait and see.”

Leaning back, Robin hooked her arms around your neck, hands draping lazily, fingertips brushing your back.

“Oh, I’m waiting,” she said, voice low, the faintest smile sparking her eyes. Sureness in every line on her face, every freckle. You felt her hands slide up your spine.

“I’m waiting,” she whispered, eyelids fluttering closed as she leaned forward, letting your lips meet slowly -- so slowly that you felt your heart beat faster and your muscles tighten with something that fluttered through your whole body.

“Good,” you whispered back, the words pinned between your lips and hers.

You watched her smile. You tasted it.

It tasted sweet.

By the time you ate the brownies, they were cold. The night was cold, too -- a new change from all the other nights before. The crickets were still singing, though, and the sky was still indigo. And Robin -- she was still here, only this time her thighs were warming your shoulders from where you sat, on the ground now, between her legs. Her chest was holding you up. You leaned back, head bumping her collarbone, and looked up at the sky.

“I think I got brownie crumbs all over you,” she said, brushing your shoulders off. You smiled and knocked your socked foot against her ankle.

“Hey, Robin?” you suddenly said, and there must have been something in your voice to change the way the air was settling around the two of you because Robin sat up a little.

“Yeah?”

There was a gathering of energy and matter sweeping into the center of your chest, like the quiet friction before the creation of a universe. Before the bang. Before everything that’s been building begins.

“Robin, I love you.”

She sat up further. Feeling something twist in your stomach, you moved off of her enough that you could turn around.

“You,” she started, her eyes wide, already searching yours. “You… do?”

“Yes,” you breathed, chuckling nervously. “I-I mean, yes? I can’t help it, when I’m with you -- even when I’m away from you, I… You don’t have to say it back, I just c--” Robin grabbed your face with her cold hands and kissed you.

“Oh,” you sighed in the moment she pulled back to breathe, and then she was leaning forward and kissing you even harder. Your hands slid up to rest on her jaw, thumbs brushing over the soft skin there and she rocked you backward. You would have lost your balance if she hadn’t snaked her arm around your waist, but she did, and she used it to pull you back into her. Your chest brushed hers, and you felt something twist in your stomach again. This time, it wasn’t nerves.

Robin ducked back and tilted her face down to brush her nose against yours. Your face was warm where her hands were cupping it. You felt her thumb explore the edge of your lower lip.

"You're--" she caught her breath in a laugh. "You're my favorite person in the whole world."

You smiled, caught your breath in a laugh of your own. Robin didn't let go.

"I never want to not have you," she whispered, eyes dropping to your lips.

"You have me," you whispered. "Always."

Robin pulled you into her and the last of the summer crickets chirped as you kissed under the indigo sky which had begun to grow cold. The same sky that had watched a similar scene unfold under the same moon reflecting off a lake, mosquitoes swimming in the hot air. You hadn’t cared about them back then, and now, you didn’t care about the cold. It was different -- it was a sign of change, of life -- and it was good.

So, as the crickets sang the outro to their summer symphony, you and Robin finished where you began; kissing under the moonlight in a world that was all yours.

________________________________________________________

The sun was shining through the windows. When you opened your eyes, it was like a picture staring back at you -- the kind someone would hang on their wall because it was warm and perfect and it lit up the place. A curtain, eggshell blue and half-translucent, captured the yellow rays and held them, glowing, between stitches of fabric. You’d never been in Robin’s room before. It had always been Steve’s house.

Her room smelled like… her. The laundry detergent she used, the berry shampoo that lingered around her like a halo the day after she’d washed her hair, the vanilla lotion she liked. All of it was contained inside the four walls like a time capsule. And you thought, maybe the world would go on without you if the two of you could just stay here. If that was all the rest of your life was -- a sunny morning in late summer laying in Robin’s bed -- you would be content. You would be happy. You could have spent forever in this picture and you wouldn’t have missed out on a single thing as long as Robin was lying beside you. Inhaling a sleepy sigh through your nose, you stiffly rolled over. The sheets were tangled up between the two of you. By the door, a chair was left overturned from where you and Robin had knocked it over, too tangled up in each other to notice where you were going.

Your clothes had found homes across the floor. Your shirt was caught on the leg of the chair, your pants were near the window next to Robin’s bra. You smiled faintly, eyes tracing over the edges of her room. It was messy in a lived-in way -- you could see the impressions she’d made on the space, how she’d made it her own. Posters hung on the wall. A small, well-loved desk sat in the far corner, off to your left. In the light of the morning, you could see stickers, now faded remnants of childhood, that you hadn’t noticed last night, when you’d been occupied with other things.

Like the girl next to you, who still lay sleeping. The beautiful, mind-blowing, wonderful girl. You could still taste her lips on your tongue, could still feel her hands on your skin, the way her hair had felt tangled between your fingers. Everything was golden and ethereal and… perfect. It felt fitting, as if your lives had always been heading toward one another. And, you decided as you propped your head up on your hand and brushed a strand of hair out of Robin’s face, the waiting had been worth it. Every moment you’d been made to feel alone was worth a single moment with Robin. To think things were only beginning.

How exciting.

Now that you’d touched her again, you couldn’t keep your hands off of her. You smoothed your thumb over her cheek, your touch light enough not to wake her. You traced the tip of your finger along her temple, connecting freckles with invisible lines before dipping back behind her ear, feeling the warmth of her skin and the softness of her hair. When her eyelids began to flutter open, you were smiling. When her eyes found your face, she was smiling too. Closing them briefly, like she was stealing a moment in time, she sighed deeply. Contently. And then she dug a hand out from under the nest of blankets and caught yours, guiding your wrist to her lips.

“Hey there,” she murmured, and you felt her breath on your skin a moment before she pressed her lips against your wrist, right over your lifeline.

“Hi,” you sighed.

She inhaled deeply, her nose pressed into the palm of your hand. She inhaled like you were made of oxygen and starlight and everything she needed to survive. Laying back onto your side, you scooted forward until you could rest your forehead against hers.

“This is, like, everything I’ve ever wanted,” she whispered. You could hear the smile in her voice.

“Yeah,” you smiled back.

Your bodies were maps. You’d never known just how much time you could spend exploring the beauty of someone else before you’d met Robin. Before she’d brought you to her bed and let you touch her softly. Before she’d touched you. You’d never known how quickly a morning could pass when you were learning the language of another person’s freckles, when you were becoming fluent in every beauty mark and blemish -- how it could be so perfect that it felt like an eternity all the same. But with Robin, you discovered it all. And the morning passed quickly, and it was eternal all the same.

Eventually, she had to get up.

“Not to shatter this perfect moment, or anything, but I really have to pee.”

“Every moment with you is perfect,” you grinned, eyes roaming her skin unashamedly as she tossed the sheets off. You watched the skin on her back, scattered with freckles, while she reached down to search the floor for a shirt.

“Uh, cheese alert. Did you read that one in a greeting card?”

“Ouch,” you played up a wince. “Guess that means I should stick to comedy, huh?”

Turning around, Robin gave you a sly grin before leaning down. Very, very slowly, she kissed you. Your hand found the soft skin over her ribs.

“Whatever makes you happy, Earth girl,” she murmured against your lips. Your head spun. And then, like nothing at all had happened, she hopped up and pulled a shirt on. Your shirt.

You watched her as she hopped off to the bathroom, stopping by the door to lazily spin around and give you one last look that made it clear she knew what she was doing to you. You hurled a pillow in her direction hoping that it would distract her from how flustered you were. The moment she disappeared into the hall, you yanked the blanket over your face. It smelled so much like her that it didn’t help your case, but in the few minutes that Robin was gone, you managed to cool your face down.

You heard her return before you saw her. There was a click and a whirr, and the sound of music had you throwing the blanket off and blinking around.

“Oh my god, is that Aretha Franklin?” you asked as Robin gave a little spin before dropping onto the bed. She tossed her legs over yours.

“Yeah. It was my mom’s tape when she was little. She gave it to me when we were going through the attic a couple years ago. You, uh… you don’t mind, do you?” She glanced up at you, hair framing her face like a halo.

“Absolutely not,” you replied, shifting so your hip bumped against her. She sighed, closing her eyes with a smile.

The cassette sounded old -- parts of it warped by years of being played, parts of it sounding like they were coming through a portal from another time to slide comfortably into the room.

“Baby, baby, baby

This is just to say

How much I’m gonna miss you

But believe while I’m away

That I didn’t mean to hurt you

Don’t you know that I’d rather hurt myself”

Your hand found Robin’s hair. The sun had taken up a patch of wall; lit it yellow and bright. The ceiling felt wide. You could feel the room heating up; it was going to be a hot day. Rubbing your thumb along her forehead where you knew there was a garden of freckles, you raked your fingers back through her hair. Robin hummed and tilted her face up. You tucked a strand behind her ear and moved down to her neck.

“Think of me sometimes

Because if loving you was so wrong

Then I’m guilty of this crime…”

“What,” you faltered for a moment, your voice sounding like an intrusion; a tear in the canvas. “What do your parents think of me?”

Robin’s thumb was pressed against your wrist.

“What do you mean?” She lifted her chin further; she was listening, even though both of you were staring at the sun-covered wall. The corner of one of her posters had peeled back. There was a sticker a few inches from the ceiling. Robin must have jumped to put it there.

“I mean, like…” You meant: did they know you kissed their daughter. Did they know you were saving up to get her an apartment, a life away from here. Did they know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.

“They, uhm, don’t know about us. I-If that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Mine neither,” you quickly said. Robin let out a breath -- you realized that it was a relieved one.

It was a hard thing to tell someone. It was hard to tell your parents anything at all.

“Do you… want them to know?” Robin slowly asked. She hadn’t stopped running her thumb along your wrist. You felt like there was something to that. Something important.

“No,” you were honest. Then, “I’m… sorry.” And it was honest, too.

“No, don’t be,” Robin moved to sit up, then changed her mind and pulled your arm closer, sliding your hand down to settle below her ribs. She tucked her face into the crook of your elbow. “Don’t be. I get it. Trust me,” she blew out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I definitely get it.”

“I was scared you were going to hate me, once,” you murmured. “Before…” You shook your head, fingers wandering over her shirt. Your shirt.

You were scared of her, once -- back before you’d realized there was a world where she would ever be wearing your shirt. Back when you’d read her bubbly writing on a nametag and known that you were absolutely, helplessly caught up in her.

Robin took a breath, lips forming the almost-beginning of something. And then, instead, she said, “I never could have hated you.”

You tried to imagine a world where Robin hated you, but in all of them, she was only ever wearing your shirt.

Sliding your arm out of her grip, you folded your fingers between hers, squeezing onto them like you never planned to let go.

“But what’s inside

Can’t be denied

The power, the power of love

Is my only guide”

Robin hummed softly to the music, and you felt the vibrations when she moved your hands up to kiss your knuckles. The world felt heavy, but the room felt light. You breathed deeply from the air inside Robin’s bedroom, preserved in time like a painting, just like the yard outside where your bike sat collecting falling petals and blades of grass weaving between the spokes. Inside -- inside her house, her room, the painting -- you wrapped your legs around her hips to hold her closer. You always wanted her closer. Ever since that moment in the lake, with water dripping off her hair and her skin soft under the moonlight, you’d known that you couldn’t live without the feeling of her. And Robin -- she leaned into your knee, turning her cheek to it and settling in like she couldn’t live without you, either.

“Can I…” she murmured. “Here, let me see something, just…” With her words floating into the summer sunlight, she lifted your hands up, holding them out so your intertwined fingers joined the scene of her room in delicate brushstrokes.

“Hm?” you hummed. It joined Robin’s words as they floated.

Pulling her fingers free, she arranged your hand in the air, uncurling your fingers, smoothing over your skin like she was opening a flower. With a quick gesture, she told you to “stay” -- a painter with her brush, a master at her craft -- and you watched as she hovered over the rings stacked on her left hand. A simple silver band -- “My dad gave it to me when I was eight. It barely fits my pinky, but I can’t get rid of it. Feel like I would get ten years of bad luck or something” -- a small flower made of wire, two guitar strings twisted together; made by Eddie, who’d given her and Steve each one for Christmas last year. He’d promised to make you one, but “Not for Christmas. That would be too predictable; who likes knowing what their present’s gonna be? Ruins the Christmas spirit if you ask me.” -- and finally, on her ring finger, the silver band with the pale blue gemstone. This ring, you rarely saw her without. The others she would rotate, wearing one or the other, but this one…

Robin slid it off her finger, holding it up and watching the gemstone pick up the light and fracture it into a thousand splitters, like shatters of blue glass reflecting onto the ceiling. She tilted it, then dropped her arm to rub the gem against your shirt over her stomach. And then, then she lifted your hand with the gentlest of touches and slid the ring onto your finger. Your ring finger. And that was about as important as anything ever could be.

“...What--”

“It’s yours,” she nodded, raising your hand into the morning sunlight. She smiled distantly at it, as if she was the only one in the room, and then she turned to look at you. “And, uh… I’m yours, too.” Her smile turned shy, her freckles bedding down in a garden of rosy blush. You leaned into her and tried to kiss every single one of them. Who could guess how long it would take? You both had the time.

_________________________________________________________

“I want to show you something,” she said.

You were wearing her jacket and your arms felt warm. Part of that, you thought, was from knowing that she’d worn it before you. That you now existed in the space she had occupied. Across the room she sat, looking at you with a softness and an eagerness. You smiled. You couldn’t help it.

“What?” you asked, rubbing circles on the sleeve of her jacket where it was pressed into your palm.

She sprung up from her desk chair, all tawny hair and long limbs and mischievous smile, which you knew meant she was especially excited about whatever she wanted to show you. Placing her hands just above your knees, her squeeze made your head feel dizzy.

“An alien spaceship,” she murmured. With a wink, she pushed off of you and skipped for the door, waiting until she’d reached it to twirl languishly around. She smirked, one of those secret smirks that you knew no one else in the world had seen because they were meant for you alone, and leaned toward the hallway alluringly.

“Alright, space girl,” you said -- the first time you’d called her anything like that. It was fitting; there was no one in the world like her, and the version of yourself that you became in her presence couldn’t be explained by anything that belonged to this world.

She was something else, your girl.

Yours.

The ring on your finger felt heavy. Heavy like grounding. Like the thing that tied you both to this world even if you didn’t quite belong to it. Your thumb moved from the sleeve of her jacket to press onto the gem laid in the silver band. It was cold, but it soon warmed against your skin.

Robin was waiting by the door.

You stood and took her hand.

Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, but now it was draped in afternoon sunlight. It was stronger and not as soft as the morning light that had covered you like a sheer fabric -- the afternoon was more like fine silk. Robin looked the same in every shade of the day: beautiful. Always. Even when -- no, especially when she was hanging upside down on her chair, swiveling it from side to side while she talked animatedly with her hands about something that had happened in Family Video the other day. Especially when she laughed so hard at some stupid joke you’d made that she snorted and nearly choked on her lemonade. Especially when she got annoyed at the TV when it wouldn’t pick up a signal unless she was holding the antenna just right.

“Sorry, but we have to break up. I only have eyes for this television now, and she’s a demanding lover.”

You’d laughed, heart swelling at the confirmation that “breaking up” gave you. She truly was yours.

Well, unless the TV stole her away.

Hours ago, the two of you had returned to her room, fingers intertwined as she led you through her home even though you knew the way by now as if you’d known it in a past life, but hours before that, you’d sat in the kitchen, in the living room, on her lap. Hours before that, you’d kissed her just as passionately as you had the night before, when you’d felt her skin grow hot under your fingers.

But now, hours later, you were following her out into the yard. You were pulling your bike from the bushes along the side of her house, feeling satisfied when you had to tear away a few vines that clung to the wheels. And then you were running, bike trailing by your side, after Robin, who laughed into the sunlight and shook the hair out of her face. You could see enough of it to notice the way her nose was crinkled, and then she turned forward again and swung herself up onto her bike. You followed suit, the soles of your shoes striking the pedals, and you relished in the solid pressure of them under your feet, the way your muscles sang when you pushed yourself forward after Robin.

The air carried a warm breeze and, though you missed the weight of it, you were glad to have shed Robin’s jacket in favor of lighter layers. Sweat beaded on your brow as you pumped your legs, soon catching up. Robin threw a grin over her shoulder, her hair furling around her face wildly. You laughed into the late summer sky.

You had no clue where you were going, but you rode through town, swerving around evening traffic as tired office workers made their steady way home. Some of them stopped at the general store or the post office. Robin rode past them like they weren’t even there. You followed her like she was the only person in all of Hawkins. Where it counted, she was.

She swiftly led you out of town, breaking into the backroads like some mermaid slipping into water; suddenly, she could breathe again. And you felt like you were breathing for the first time. You took a deep, gasping breath of air and let it out in a whoop. Standing on your pedals, you raced in front of her, hearing her high, husky laugh. A moment later she swam into view beside you.

This road you recognized, and you were only slightly surprised when Family Video and its sister shops appeared in the distance. You and Robin’s pace had slowed, though it remained steady. The parking lot outside Family Video was empty except for two cars: a BMW and a big, familiar run-down van.

Steve and Eddie were outside, lingering after Family Video had closed. Steve was leaning back against the rough side of the building, and Eddie had his arm propped above Steve’s head. You grinned, lifting your hand in reply to their sudden waving. Even from this distance, you knew each other. Robin whooped loudly, and Eddie made devil horns and pulled a face like he might chase after her, and you could see Steve roll his eyes even from the center of the road. And then they were gone, left in the rearview as the two of you peddled on.

The breeze had turned cooler -- a reminder that summer was at the end of its life -- and the sun was nowhere to be found, lost somewhere behind the endless forest of trees that ran parallel to the road. You recognized the spot where Robin had met you all those weeks ago, when you’d walked and listened to The Smiths and wore flower crowns. That, too, passed behind you -- slipping by your shoulder and, just as you turned to look at it, growing distant and seemingly unimportant.

You knew, though. You knew what it had meant. But things were also so different now. Time kept going, and it pulled you with it. For once in your life, you were grateful for that.

Your pace had slowed again, and just like the buildings and the people, the trees gradually began to thin out.

“Robin,” you called, unable and entirely unwilling to keep the smile from your voice, “Where are we going?”

“I told you,” she grinned, falling back to set a new pace -- a much more relaxed one. “Surprise.” She lifted her eyebrows and gave them a wiggle.

Now that you weren’t peddling so hard -- now that you could sit back and catch your breath -- you looked around, taking in the far less populated corner of Hawkins. On either side of the road, which had cracked and crumbled and faded to a pale asphalt blue under the relentless scrutiny of the sun, there stretched wide open fields. At the start of the summer, they would have been overflowing with growing stalks of corn -- even now, you could see the hollow stumps; all that remained of what had once been a sea. Now, the slightly rocky and almost alarmingly flat farmland bared itself to the sky like the underbelly of a beast that had rolled over to take a nap.

Even the fields were preparing for the coming winter. Unlike the fields, the rest of Hawkins would be continuing forward in motion; it was only the land that would get to rest.

Speaking of rest, you only just realized how late it had gotten. The air was significantly cooler now, making you think of the jacket you’d once been glad to have left behind. You shivered, but it was from excitement as much as it was the chill.

“Here,” Robin suddenly said, pushing her heels down into her brakes. You hurried to follow, and the sound of tires dragging across the asphalt was the only sound for miles. Even the birdsong had faded away, still back with the trees and the busy Hawkin’s streets. They would be dead by now. Everyone would be settled home, eating dinner or watching TV, surrounded by the quiet glow of their home. Your own parents, you thought, were likely sitting in the living room, illuminated by the light of the television and that old lamp that had been passed down by your Grandmother.

Standing in the middle of the road, cold fingers gripping the handlebars of your bike, breathing heavily into the wide open sky, you felt like maybe, in a way, you were home, too.

“This is it,” Robin whispered, perched on the seat of her bike like a bird in a high tree. Her eyes were on the sky.

You took a moment to look at her, her face framed by all that open space, and you only realized the whole world had changed color because Robin looked particularly beautiful in that shade of orange.

And then you looked up.

The whole sky was red. Orange bursts of clouds like paint-soaked cotton rolled across it, so still it was like you were looking at a photograph. The deep maroon melted into a rich pink at the horizon, and every inch of it glowed radiantly. You'd never seen so much sky in your whole life. You thought you could hear the world singing.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, catching your balance on an outstretched foot. Your bike teetered as you craned your neck.

“Exactly,” Robin grinned like the two of you shared a secret. More secrets than just this, you realized.

You shared so much with her; this sky was just another thing.

Next to you, Robin reached across the point that marked the center of the road -- that invisible line that you could almost see if you looked hard enough and imagined that it should be there -- and she held out her hand. You took it, spinning the ring on your finger around until the gemstone was pressed into your palm. You held it close until it warmed. The cold air blew between you, not enough to push the clouds in the sky, but just enough to make you shiver.

Robin squeezed your hand and, at the edge of Hawkins, under a sky on fire, you could see the rest of your life on the road in front of you.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

1992

“Hi there, I’m calling for Steve Harrington. He gave me this number to get ahold of him.” You glanced up at Robin, her face coming into focus, and were briefly distracted by the realization she still had the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, even after all these years; even after all the places you’d been and people you'd met.

“Yes--” you raised your eyebrows at the voice on the other end of the line. Robin bounced carefully, like if she got too excited the hotel receptionist would be able to hear it.

“Yeah, sure,” you repeated, then gave the receptionist your name before holding your hand over the phone and whispering, “She’s gonna call up to their room.”

“Right, of course. She has to make sure we’re not stalkers or something.”

“Well,” you drawled, tilting your head.

“We are not,” Robin grinned, gently slapping your arm. “We’re just -- worried friends.”

“I think that fits into the realm of ‘stalkers.’ Might even be a subcategory-- Yes?” you pulled your hand away, straightening up. Robin drifted in your line of vision as you turned to the wall, unwilling to let your face out of her sight.

“Uh-huh…. Okay…”

“What?” Robin hissed. You held up a finger. The woman in your ear was talking fast, obviously eager to get back to some task that didn’t involve you.

“Okay perfect. Thank you.”

“What did she say?” Robin asked, fiddling with her hands. You titled the mouthpiece away, just in case, and listened to the cheery music crackling through the receiver.

“She’s sending us up. Should only be a few minutes before--”

“You guys couldn’t wait another day could you?”

“Steve!” you grinned, and Robin flapped her hands excitedly.

“Hi Steve!” she yelled, and you held the phone out so he could hear her. He probably could have heard her anyway.

“Obviously not,” you replied, pulling the phone back to your ear. Robin behind you and pressed her cheek against yours so she could hear his replies. You wrapped your arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze.

“How was the ride up?” Robin asked.

“Loud, crowded--”

“Smelling of old socks.”

“Eddie,” you grinned.

“My fair ladies,” his voice got closer. You imagined him and Steve standing in a similar fashion, sharing the phone in a dimly lit hotel room.

“Gross,” Robin muttered, rolling her eyes fondly. You checked your watch.

“You don’t have Dustin and Will yet, do you?”

“Not yet,” Steve replied.

“They’re still prisoners at the moment. Go figure,” came Eddie’s voice. You could practically hear Steve roll his eyes. He and Robin were more similar than they’d care to admit.

Living together might have contributed.

“Would you knock it off,” Steve’s voice grew distant, then returned. “They took their finals yesterday. Spring break officially starts tomorrow.”

“When do you plan to leave?” you asked, pulling the pen off the notepad that hung by the phone.

“Probably around ten. Gonna take the little shits for breakfast before we hit the road.”

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Robin leaned in to say. You both heard Eddie’s barking laughter.

“Hey new girl, tell Robin to add a dollar to the jar,” Steve said.

“But I didn’t swear.”

“No, but I’m about to--”

“Okay,” you butted in, smirking. “Mattresses are blown up, snacks are stocked -- that table you wanted is all set up, Eds.”

“You’re my hero,” Eddie replied. His voice kept fading in and out, and you’d shared space with him long enough to know that he was probably bouncing around the room.

Steve’s groan, on the other hand, was loud in your hear.

“D’you guys really have to play that dumb game? It’s vacation, you’re supposed to have fun. ”

“This is fun, Harrington.”

“Whatever.”

“Um, guys,” Robin interjected using that exaggerated voice she reserved for them, particularly when they were annoying her. “Can we stay focused, please? If you keep bickering like an old married couple, you’re going to scare the kids away before you even get here.”

“Please--” Eddie scoffed, again from a distance, while Steve said, “We don’t bicker.”

You and Robin shared a look. It would have been a lie to say it wasn’t a little bit fond.

“Besides, they’re not really kids anymore,” Steve added, suddenly sounding wistful.

And he was right. They weren’t kids anymore. Dustin and Will had been in college for almost two years now. Lucas was on the other side of the country thanks to a basketball scholarship, Max was interning at a non-profit in California -- which put her closer to Joyce and El. You knew she was happy about that. So, Steve was right: the kids weren’t really kids anymore. And though you hadn’t known them as long as the others, watching them grow up and move on -- watching the effect it had on your three friends; a mix of pride and sorrow -- had changed you as much as it had changed Robin, Steve, and Eddie.

The four of you had stayed in Indiana, but the people you’d stayed for had all left.

It wasn’t bad, though. For the first time in your lives, you had total freedom. You didn’t have to hide from your parents, or the world -- the world had moved into your two-bedroom apartment; everything outside of here was nothing.

It meant that you could give Steve and Eddie as honest of a goodbye as you wanted to without anyone reading into it or asking what they were to you. It meant that, after hanging up the phone, you could pull Robin against your chest and kiss her. It meant that, in the spirit of enjoying an apartment that wouldn’t be empty for much longer, you could do so much more to her than that.

A few states and a few hundred miles away, your friends were making their way home, to a little building that sat just outside of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a modest building, with weeds in the flowerbed outside and cracks in the walls. The windows let the winter air in, sure, but there was enough warmth to go around. And maybe everyone had moved on and away, but by staying, you and Robin had found something you’d never thought you’d have before, something you’d only dared to dream of during the summer of 1987…

A corner of this Earth that could be your very own.

“I love you,” Robin slowly whispered, each word a promise, her hands in your hair like the endless galaxy that stretched above you, just beyond the ceiling. “Earth girl,” she smiled.

You leaned forward and tasted it. It tasted of tall grass and indigo and The Smiths.

“I love you more,” you murmured against her cheek.

In the empty space above the cupboards, four coffee containers looked down at you, unaware of the role they’d played in anything at all, hardly remembering the diner they’d come from. And, somewhere off in the distance, as if it was floating through the window from another room, lazy on the spring breeze, you thought you could hear the soft sounds of a familiar tune.

“So long ago

It’s a certain time, it’s a certain place

You touched my hand and you smiled

All the way back you held out your hand

But I hope, and if I pray

Ooh, it might work out someday… ”

__________________________________________________________

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