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weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years ago

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Unfortunately Yours

Summary: When you and Bucky successfully infiltrate a HYDRA auction, you’re told to stay another day due to max capacity on the jet. But how are you going to survive a night alone with this insufferable Super Soldier? Especially considering the miniscule size of the room and the obvious dilemma presented; who gets the bed?

Warning: S M U T , the smuttiest thing I’ve ever written, language, spit kink, daddy kink, ptsd symptoms, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism, hate-s e x, rough, more like enemies-to-lovers kind of thing, gagging, m!receiving, f!receiving, lots of receiving lol, 18+, M

Word Count: 10.6K (Whhhyyyyy)

Your body burned with exhaustion and the sheer weight of your extremities felt enough to drag you to the floor and mirror a coma with the length of your hibernation. You no longer had the minimal strength required to pick up your feet properly which resulted in the sound of shuffling to fill the small, and by small you meant miniscule, room you’d been assigned to.

Well, you and Bucky had been assigned to.

You’d both played your parts well enough over the course of the last few hours. You’d sauntered into the ran-shacked looking bar with Bucky’s arm tossed lazily over your shoulder, his distaste for the assignment evident on his face, but he’d cleared it away the second his foot crossed the threshold. He pulled you in tighter to his body and raised his chin into the air, emitting the energy of a man not to be trifled with. You’d portrayed your role as a damsel just as, if not more, convincing as Barnes’ opposite. Your shoulders hunched over and your steps were small and quivering, the wig on your head a tool used to curtain the hair in your face.

You were the lamb to this White Wolf.

Word had traveled through the dark and twisted grapevine that a certain showing of sorts took place tonight and a high-ranking target was rumored to be amongst its audience. You and Barnes were on the first flight to Germany within minutes.

Bucky had pulled you through the crowd moving along to the thundering music in the background and halted at the edge of the bar. His grip on your shoulder tightened once he’d caught the man’s attention and you winced, his fingers digging a little too deep for your liking.

The bartender scanned you over and took in your frame, making you feel smaller than you had already displayed yourself to be. It took him a while to conclude but when he took in Bucky’s domineering gaze, a look as if to say Deny me, I dare you, he nodded once and wrote something down on a napkin, sliding it over to Bucky.

Scum. All of them.

You nearly blew your cover trying to throw Bucky a look but you refrained from the hellfire clawing its way out of you. You had to be perfectly in control, emotions and beliefs aside. You were a damsel and you had to make certain they believed that. You knew they were watching; they always were.

“Relax,” Bucky hissed, pulling you under his arm and bringing his lips to your ear.

“When you pretend you’re the one being put up for auction, then you can tell me to relax,” you muttered, never looking up from the ground.

“I have been.” When you paused your movement, he pulled away to scan the room, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I promise.” He led you backstage and turned the corner to a dimly lit hallway, barren of any decoration in sharp contrast to every other section of the building, “Besides, once they realize how insufferable you are, they’ll be begging me to take you back,”

He opened an iron door and pushed you into the room, sending you tumbling down onto the carpet. He tsked, stepping over you and not looking back after shutting the door behind himself. You counted thirteen pairs of feet and judging by the way some of them were turned towards you, they had to be watching. You observed your hands for a second, counting slowly until you figured you’d stalled long enough and sent your trembling gaze to the exit. Bucky let out a low chuckle and clasped his hand around your upper arm, launching you back onto your feet and twisting your body to face him.

Oh, darling, German fluently escaped his tongue and you nearly rolled your eyes at the condescending tone settled in his words, You know better than that, don’t you?

His hold tightened and you winced, holding back the whimper in your throat. If you saw any hint of a bruise forming on your arm, you would give him hell later . . . and possibly even if you didn’t.

You bit your tongue and let him lead you towards a leather chair before he pulled you swiftly down onto his lap where his hand remained on your thigh, brushing the inside softly. Had you not been so annoyed, you’d have been humiliated at all the stares devouring the scene unfolding before them.

Good girl, he drawled and pressed your back flat up against his chest where he could put you on display.

You knew you should’ve been annoyed, or at least settled so into your role as his temporary whore-for-sale that the sensation coming alive between your thighs shouldn’t have made an appearance. But sometimes, the way Bucky brought his voice down real low and cooed an insult or jest your way just had an affect that your body would not deny. It kept you awake a lot.

Instead, you swallowed hard and let yourself be splayed against him. You ignored the scent of sandalwood in his cologne.

Your body trembled from the cold breeze floating around in the room and you shifted in Bucky’s lap to block everyone’s sight from the way your chest reacted to the change in temperature.

Don’t be shy, he murmured and removed your arms from your breasts, letting the thin, practically see-through fabric show you to the world.

“Buc-” You started, your panic creeping through the cracks at the cheshire sneers sent your way, but at the first sign of your discomfort, he retracted his hands and twisted you around gently, throwing your legs over the side of the chair and spreading them but forcing your upper half to face him. Effectively, cutting your chest off from their line of sight.

You trembled out a sigh and he grabbed your face tightly, drawing your eyes to his. He examined you, his hardened gaze shouting words he couldn’t currently say. But you understood. He could be a jerk, but he wasn’t a bad man.

Your body instinctively leaned into him for warmth as another breeze engulfed you, resulting in a shiver that made its way up your spine. “Are they still looking?” you inquired and he gripped your neck with a ferocity that made you squirm in his lap. Fuck.

He pulled your ear to his lips and licked the helix. You whimpered. “No,” he whispered, running his thumb along your jawline, “But if you don’t quit fucking squirming you’re gonna have a problem, Doll,”

You opened your mouth in question when you felt a sudden twitch on your backside and you swallowed. Hard. He never broke eye contact with you, instead choosing to raise a brow in mocking. Your chest heaved up and down and how you could feel his breath grazing on your cheek almost had you rubbing your legs together for some form of desperate friction. No, you had to keep yourself composed, keep the act going. But he’d seen it. All of it.

You nod your head and slowed your breathing down until he released his grip around your throat and turned his attention towards the dim stage. You leaned back into him and followed suit, making sure to keep your attention downcast and appear disheveled.

“There,” Bucky whispered after a few minutes and you lifted your head only to find the man you had come all this way for walking straight towards you.

Like a moth to a flame.

“How much?” The older man inquired, his grotesque gaze settled on your spread legs.

Bucky looked up at the balding man as if this was the first time he’d noticed his presence, “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?”

The man lifted his brow, or what would’ve been, and smiled wickedly, “I’ll give you double your price if you give her to me now,” he offered, his eyes slithering up to the apex of your thighs and this time you didn’t have to fake the shiver running up your spine.

A small smirk formed on Bucky’s face and he waved his hand dismissively at him, “Get in line,”

The old man sneered but Bucky was right, most everyone had their attention fixated on what was happening currently and it was apparent there was, indeed, a line.

Bucky rested his gloved hand on your upper thigh and gripped tight, whether to refrain from hitting the guy or just to touch you, he wasn’t sure but he couldn’t keep you away when the man said, “I’ll give you four times the asking price but I want her now,”

Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened and you squeaked at the pain, jumping slightly in his lap. “How about I give her to you for free for ten minutes and you tell me if you can handle her,”

You jerked your head towards Bucky and furrowed your brows. Free? Dick. You nearly scoffed.

The man gripped onto your calf and you shifted to kick his hand away when Bucky’s own shot out and and ripped his off of you, “Don’t touch my stuff,” he spit and the man let out a yell but that only spurred Bucky on and he tightened his fist, “Until terms are agreed upon, she remains mine to do with as I please. Understood?”

The man nodded hastily and Bucky threw you off his lap when he stood up. “Anyone else?” Bucky shouted to the room, daring others to test his limits when it came to you. After a few moments of silence Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t fucking think so,”

Bucky’s grip on the man remained and he stared down at the hunched figure, “Now, you,” he addressed and the room remained silent. This was allowed here.

Normally, merchandise couldn’t be touched until it was purchased. No buying before the auction, no discussing what you’re offering, no negotiating but most importantly don’t try to steal from anyone. These are criminals and that being said, they handle things amongst themselves. They know the rules and the risks they take breaking them.

So, when Bucky drags the poor bastard away, you follow right behind him. Not a protest to be heard. Bucky throws open the door we entered through and finds the nearest room before chucking the HYDRA agent inside and locking the door behind you.

The room was brightly lit, with all four walls a dull cream color and dark brown couches strewn casually about. There’s no real order to this place. All cement corners and LED bulbs. Pure business.

“Let ‘em know,” Bucky orders and you turn around to argue only to find the man pulling a gun out of his jacket pocket.

You jerk suddenly and kick Bucky square in the stomach, launching him towards one of the couches just as a shot rings out. You blanch at the sound, the noise filling your head and drowning everything else out. You hear yelling but you can’t make out the words, only the panic intermingled within them. Your hand reaches out around you and you grip the small button lined into your thin clothing, pressing it four times how you’d been instructed.

Everything moved slowly and people began filing into the room. How did they get here so fast? No. It wasn’t possible, they were a quarter mile down the road, there was no way they were your backup.

Hands began flying in the air and you were picked up and dropped multiple times, each time landing harder than the last. You tried to blink back the spinning but the blows landing on your face and torso made it all the worse.

Instinctively, you threw your hands up to protect your face and fought to find some footing to help. Bucky was good but he wasn’t a God, he would need help. When the first blow met your forearms you reached out to grasp the hand and used your other to drive your fist right into the person’s nose. The bone crunched under your blow.

You took a hit, then another when you managed to analyze the enemy’s fight pattern and waited until he left himself open before driving your knee into his rib cage. He bent over in pain and you grabbed him by the hair, hearing another crack when you shoved your elbow upwards against his nose.

You heard a shout and whipped your head over to see Bucky on his back, a looming figure with a gun aimed straight towards him. You galvanized towards them and threw yourself in the air, using your weight to kick him off of Bucky when another shot rang out.

Bucky shot up and crushed the gun with his metal arm. You scoured the room for the familiar HYDRA agent but found him nowhere. You shot out of the room, knocking into an opposing wall as you turned the corner and ducked when the sound of a bullet whizzed past you.

This is not going good. You had lost your target and rummaged through room after room until you’d become lost. Fuck. Where the hell did he run off to? You winced after breaking out into a sprint but pressed on, not allowing yourself to slow down. There was no way you were going to fail this mission, especially after coming so close to success.

Sweat trailed down your face and your muscles screamed at you to halt, their exhaustion beginning to wear you down. Your breathing grew rapid and your vision blurred and just as you went to lean on a wall to rest, your shoulder exploded out in pain and you collapsed with a cry.

“Dirty whore,” the HYDRA man seethed, a cane raised over his head. He brought it down and you spun to the side, feeling the air breeze past your ear.

Your hand latched onto the cane and you shoved it into his gut, pushing him away. SHIELD wanted this guy alive, so alive they would receive him. That didn’t mean he had to come in one piece though.

You tore the walker out of his hand just as he tumbled onto his ass. You stood up, grunting along the way and hovered over his body, fear sprawled along his features.

“You can either stay still or get beat with your own cane, it’s your choice,” you offered, aching to bring the walker down onto his face. “Please test me. Please.” You begged.

His gaze shifted between you and the weapon and he brought his trembling hands up in defeat. He must’ve been an agent of some Intelligence branch because his fighting abilities were evidently subpar at best.

You sighed, sad to see the opportunity go but brought the cane down none the less. “That’s unfortunate,”

You turned your attention to the sound of running coming around the corner and moved to drag and hide your captive in a nearby closet only to roll your eyes when Bucky came ‘round. You tossed the cane back and forth between your hands and smiled proudly towards the agent on the floor.

“Look who I caught,” you toyed and were met with a grunt.

“Only because you let him get away,” he retorted, pulling the balding man up to his feet.

Everything began to slow and the hellfire you’d kept under mounds of ice had finally melted through its freezing cage. “What?”

He turned his back towards you and trudged the hesitant man behind him towards the exit.

“I said,” you hollered, not caring how the halls carried your echo, “What?”

“I heard what you said,” he called back to you, not bothering to turn around.

And there you were left, frozen and dumbfounded for five solid minutes before you could pull yourself together enough to stomp your way back towards the rendezvous point. You remained hazy for the most part while debriefing. You tried to recount everything but the way your anger engulfed you in its flame obscured your memory so you kept it short.

It was quickly brought up that SHIELD captured more HYDRA agents than expected and were gonna be at max capacity so you and Bucky had to stay at a base a few miles down the road. You grumbled in compliance but Bucky didn’t respond, not even a godforsaken grunt.

What SHIELD had failed to mention though, was that this bunker was clearly meant for one. It barely counted as a room. There was a small bathroom in the corner just big enough for a shower and toilet. No sink. And a small counter with just enough space for a stove, microwave and radio. If you were to lay down vertically or horizontally you’d nearly be touching wall each way. Not to mention the singular bed.

And that’s how you got to where you were now. Miniscule room. Exhausted body. Drained mind. Patience long gone.

You huffed and dropped your bag in front of the entrance before walking to the bathroom and turning to slam the door closed. You turned the faucet on and ripped the wig off, discarding your clothes in a pile before stepping into the shower. The warm water was nice and welcoming but your body already felt aflame so you twisted the knob and held your breath when the cold stream trickled down your body. It was difficult to breathe at first, but your body soon adjusted to the temperature and you began wiping the muck off your skin with the bar of soap supplied. But that’s all the was supplied. Clearly, this place was meant to be a quick pit stop.

You sat on the hard floor as the water streamed onto your body. You could nearly fall asleep to its rhythm; It was only when your head hit the wall that you realized you were so you begrudgingly stood up and shut off the water. You grabbed the only towel in the bathroom and pat yourself dry, noticing just then that you left your clothes outside.

You let out a long sigh and twisted open the doorknob to find Bucky toying with the radio on the counter; not even purposefully, just looking for something to do while he waited.

You opened your mouth to ask him to hand you your bag but after what he said to you earlier you’d sooner eat hot coals than ask him to do anything for you. You stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped neatly around your chest and you bent over to open your bag. The shuffling on the radio stopped.

“You could’ve at least left me some warm water,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes.

You searched in your bag for the fresh clothes residing there only to turn around when you found them and have the bathroom door shut in your face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You shouted, pounding your fist against the door.

You could hear the water running and you groaned, pounding harder. The door opened for a split second and you were hit in the face with the clothes you’d left inside only for it to instantly be slammed shut again.

You punched the door with all the frustration built up over the past few hours and felt the wood crack with your force. Why did this man have to be incredibly baffling? You were not nearly paid enough to deal with such an unbearable partner. He would have you bald from stress before you knew it.

You spent the next few minutes grumbling to yourself after you changed and scribbled your frustration onto a small notebook you took with you everywhere. It was only when you heard the water shut off did you remember something. You still had the only towel. A villainous smirk tugged at your lips and you placed the folded towel on the edge of the bed, away from the door.

Then you heard the creak. “I will walk out naked if you don’t give me the towel,” Bucky threatened.

You shrugged despite him not being able to see you from your position on the bed, “I’ll just laugh at your dick,”

“You weren’t laughing earlier,” he shot back.

Oh. So he did remember. Good. You thought he’d gotten amnesia within the past few hours, maybe he was just too ashamed to mention it.

“Too disgusted to insult. Plus, I was playing a character,”

“Fine,” he responded and quickly came into view, haughtily sauntering over to your side and you shouted.

“Dear God!” You held the towel up to block your sight of his barren body. It was disgusting. He was all wet, hair dripping onto his muscled torso, water gleaming off his taut skin, 5 o’clock shadow drenched and straight out of a wet dream. Jesus.

“Prude,” he commented, snatching the towel from your grasp and wrapping it around himself.

“Respectable,” you corrected, crossing your arms and shoving him away. “You get the floor,”

He lifted his duffle off the ground and rummaged through it. “Then I get the blanket,”

“You get fuck all,” you stated, flipping off the lamp beside you and snuggling into the warm cot.

When the shuffling stopped and the bathroom light was shut off, you shut your eyes and let the wear of the day grab at you, lulling you into the beginning of slumber. That is, until the blanket was hauled from around you, damn near throwing you onto the floor. You shouted out and caught yourself last minute.

“Barnes!” You yelled, steadying yourself and reaching over the edge to grab the blanket back. Your hand fisted at the faux fur and you pulled with all your might to no avail.

He swatted you away as though you were a pesky fly and reached over to turn the light of the lamp on. You glowered at him and stood, wrapping the blanket around your arm and pulling upwards. Your arm strained to its capacity but the man on the floor didn’t budge. Only turned his back to you and shut his eyes. You reached over yourself and flipped the switch of the lamp, once again immersing yourself in the comforting darkness.

Bucky stiffened and opened his eyes then turned and froze you in your spot with his stare. He reached around and lit the lamp, slowly retracting his arm and daring you to turn it off again. So you did.

He yanked the blanket from your grasp and threw you back onto the bed, bringing light into the room. “Light stays on,” he growled.

“No! You’ve had your goddamn way since you stepped foot into this room. Light goes off and I get the blanket!” You shouted, not concerned about anyone else hearing considering the room was soundproof.

“No. You get the bed so I get the blanket. Tell me how that doesn’t make sense,” he countered.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting that it did, in fact, make sense. The floor here was wooden and clearly uncomfortable, plus he hadn’t even argued about the bed situation.

You retreated, “Fine, light still goes off,”

“No,”

“Yes,”

Silence fell between the two of you but you weren’t budging. Barnes had faced plenty of monsters, he could handle the dark.

“I need the noise to fall asleep,” he admitted and it was then you could hear the slight hum the bulb emitted.

You didn’t speak for a while but reared back and pulled out your phone, “What do you want to listen to?” You scrolled through a few sounds you had stored on your phone, “We’ve got: nature sounds, frequencies, guided meditations, etc. You name it, but I’m not sleeping with this forsaken light on,”

Bucky studied you, his expression changing a mile a minute but the one of indifference conquered, “Rain,”

You nodded once and selected the audio, placing the phone face up on the nightstand and turning the light off for the last time. Hopefully. You hunkered down into the thin mattress and reached down, grasping at the thick blanket. When you pulled, there was some give. He’d let you get just enough needed to cover your body if you laid at the very edge and your hand hovered in the air when you laid your arm over the side.

Minutes flew by with your eyes shut and the exhaustion slithered over your body but your mind ran wild with the events from earlier. You tried not to get angry or sad or . . . bothered. Your breathing deepened when you began to succumb to your body’s fatigue and you drifted inch by inch into the welcoming void lulling your name.

You didn’t hear when he shifted, only managed to register the faint tracing of his fingertips on your hand before finally giving out.

You weren’t sure what time it was when you opened your eyes for the first time that night. This regularly happened. You’d wake up multiple times during the night to shift positions or throw off the sheets, no matter how insignificant the desire, your body always found a way to wake you for it.

You opened your eyes slowly to a hazy vision and blinked at the sitting figure on the floor, “Bucky?” You croaked, bringing a hand up to wipe at your face, “What time is it?”

“It’s almost one, go back to sleep,”

“What are you doing?” You persisted, ignoring his demand and sitting up slowly, “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Couldn’t,”

A heartbeat. Then another. And another. He didn’t care to elaborate.

“Do you want the bed?” You offered, stretching yourself out and already placing yourself down on the floor, “It’s too hot up there, anyway,”

His attention turned to you for the first time but you’d already began closing your eyes, not really having the energy to argue with him. You could hear shuffling from his spot and the ground disappeared below you, strong hands grasping your body and lifting you up to place you gently back onto the cot.

“I prefer the floor,” he insisted, wrapping the blanket around you, “Besides, you’re a horrendous liar,”

You didn’t hold back the singular chuckle, your haze still enveloping you. “Then why aren’t you sleeping?”

He sat at the foot of the bed, his hand hovering over your leg in hesitation, “It’s complicated.” He dropped his hand to his side.

“Isn’t the rain helping?” you mumbled, your sight now adjusting to the dark.

“Yes,”

“Then what?”

“I just . . . don’t want to wake you,”

“Well, I’m already awake if that makes you feel better,” you jeered, a small smile forming on your lips.

“It doesn’t,”

“Nothing does,” you retorted, the inevitable annoyance you always felt when conversing with him already made its way up into your tone.

He scoffed and stood from the bed, placing himself in the same spot on the floor with his head leaned up against the wall and his arm resting on his perched knee.

“Oh, so now you can’t handle a little attitude,” your tone came out incredulous, “You didn’t have any issues earlier when you blamed me for that guy’s escape. Which, he didn’t even get to do, might I add,”

“I was projecting,” he replied, gaze still focused on the door opposite to him.

You blinked, “Are you so tired that you’re actually admitting to being a dick?”

“I know I can be a dick, but you threw yourself straight into the line of fire twice today. So I don’t really give a shit if I was mean to you,”

“I only did that because you almost got shot twice today. Don’t take your anger out on me for your incompetence. Just say ‘thank you’ and move on already,”

“Incompetence?” His head jerked in your direction. “What was incompetent was that you couldn’t keep yourself composed,”

You sat up. “What in the hell are you talking about? My behavior is what got our target to basically give himself up to us! It was me that trapped him, not you!” His composure tensed and you crossed your arms over your chest, “You’re just mad your dick got hard so if anything you’re the one who couldn’t keep their compos-” His hand was wrapped around your throat and you were pinned to the mattress before you could finish your sentence.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hissed at you, his face mere inches from yours.

“Why?” You spoke hoarsely around his tightening grip, “Does the Big Bad Wolf not like that he was turned on? Who’s the prude now?”

“Turned on?” He spat, his free hand resting by your head to cage you in, “You think what you did earlier turned me on?”

You grasped at the hand around your throat and pried slightly to speak, “Fight me or fuck me, Barnes. But stop lying to yourself, it’s getting old,”

The room seemed to freeze over and Bucky paused. His hesitation was enough to elicit the fire from earlier and your legs squirmed a little underneath him. God, you hoped he chose the latter.

Then his lips crashed against yours.

You squeaked at the sudden onslaught but threw your arms around his shoulders and pulled him in tighter against you. He dropped when you intertwined your legs, his full weight pressing against you deliciously. You ground up against him, your core aching from the previous hours and the small friction elicited a moan from the both of you.

“So impatient,” he scolded, bringing the hand from around your throat down to your hips and pressing you into the bed. “What a whore,”

His breath danced along your cheek and you mewled at his words. Gods, he was going to be the death of you. Or the beginning.

You breathed in deeply, his sandalwood scent intoxicating you in a manner that alcohol never could. When you drank, you were just drunk. But when you took a sip from the tall glass that was Bucky, it brought you to life. Your body sang melodies wherever you were plastered against each other and your skin burned with need.

Touch me, your body screamed, touch me.

“Fuck off,” you groaned and Bucky jerked your head to the side, exposing your neck for him to scavenge.

The goosebumps that danced across your skin when he ran his warm tongue up from the curve of your neck to the bottom of your ear brought an arrogant smirk onto Bucky’s face. You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged when he reached a particularly sensitive spot that had your legs shaking when he kissed it sloppily.

Your mouth hung open in silent pleasure and your breaths were short and rapid, your body betraying all forms of control you previously had over yourself. The hand that wasn’t residing in his hair trailed down his muscled arm and you gripped at the brawn this man possessed. His skin reminisced lightly of silk despite the rough texture of his hands.

The same hands that now made its way into your hair and tugged at the strands at the base of your neck, jolting your chin higher into the air. Your grip tightened around his biceps and the strength they emitted sent a pool rushing to your core. You continued hunting until you found the hem of his black, cotton shirt and you made your way up his taut abdomen. You let out a sigh and he jumped lightly at the sensation of your cool fingertips across his scorching skin. It was a nice contrast for him.

You gripped at the shirt and hastily ripped the cotton upward. Bucky broke away from his descent down to your chest to let you remove the fabric and you’d suddenly wished you’d turned the lights on first. He mimicked your action and tossed your shirt in a deserted corner of the room to potentially be abandoned. You gasped when the cold air of the room grazed upon the perked mounds of your breasts.

His lips returned to their spot on the dip of your neck and his tongue slithered down in between your breasts. Your breath hitched when his wet muscle made its way up to the apex of your chest. His right hand mirrored his tongue and swirled around your nipple, his teeth pulling eagerly every so often and you hissed at the delectable pain. Your eyes devoured the scene unfolding on your chest and you reached over to flick the light on, desperate for a clearer image.

Bucky halted and his metal arm reached over to switch the light back off but you swatted his hand away and he backed up lightly, his irritation evident on his face.

“I want to watch,” you grumbled and shifted up to bring your lips back up to his. He let you. He pushed back lightly with his own lips and leaned in sync with your movements. He parted his mouth slightly and you followed suit, letting him lead his way into yours with the same muscle he’d just had flicking across your breasts.

The light went off.

You pushed him away and shot towards the switch but metal met your wrist firmly enough to keep you in place. “Bucky.” You wrestled against his hold and turned your full attention back to the figure hovering above, “I want to see you,”

Despite the darkness, you noticed his mouth twitch but his grip on your wrist remained solid. You sprawled back onto the bed and wrapped your free hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down onto you, pressing his surprisingly soft lips onto yours. You broke apart, his lips a hair’s breadth away from your own. “I want to see you,”

He didn’t move, only scanned your face over a few times and you brought him back down into a kiss. This one wasn’t like before. This one was warm, soft, patient. A ballet compared to its previous mosh pit. He danced along with you, an admission hidden somewhere in his tenderness.

You hadn’t realized you’d been freed of his hold until you were wrapping that arm over his shoulder and the sound of a light humming began.

“Fucker,” you jeered and the previous gentleness dissipated.

“Shut up,” he ordered, pinning you back onto the bed and resumed his ministration on your breasts.

The moan slipped past your lips at the sight and your chest heaved upwards, desperate for more stimulation. You licked your lips at how his mouth encased your nipple, his tongue flicking against the perked skin and you dropped your head back, shutting your eyes. You centered all of your attention anywhere that his bare skin touched your body and rubbed your aching clit against his v-line.

Your chest was pressed against the mattress before you could register what happened and the hard smack that met your ass evoked a yelp. Bucky pressed fully against your backside and he ground his dick down into your ass. He groaned at the sensation and you raised your ass onto him. You yelped again when Bucky ripped your leggings down and smacked the exposed skin on your ass.

“Try something like that again and I’ll gag you around my cock ‘til you’re crying,” he growled, “Understood?”

You nodded, wide-eyed and a mewling mess from the threatening promise of this God.

“Good girl,” he cooed, rubbing at the raw skin. “Now stay still for Daddy,”

Bucky’s hand lingered on your reddening ass and the mattress dipped when he shifted to your side. He traced gentle circles onto your backside and pressed his lips on your shoulder blade, the butterfly kisses making their way down towards your spine and then lower. Your breathing grew uneven from the sheer amount of restraint you displayed. Your grip on the edge of the bed tightened when his tongue dragged from the point where your thigh and ass met all the way up to the bottom of your spine.

“Fuck,” You shuddered, white-knuckling the blanket beneath you.

Your skin blazed when you were met with another harsh slap. You mewled at the sensation, loving the fire that spread across your flesh and relaxed when his metal hand cooled the area.

Then his teeth bit into the cooling flesh and you jerked away despite yourself. Bucky tsked lowly and you chuckled at the hint of fear sprouting in your chest; you did not want to see whatever sinister expression resided on his face.

A strong hand gripped the roots of your hair and hauled you up. You followed his direction and knelt onto the ground between Bucky’s sprawled out legs, settling in your new position.

“Oh, Doll,” he chastised, “you were so close,”

“That shouldn’t count,” you retorted while Bucky pulled the blanket off the bed and lifted you up with his metal arm, shoving the barrier between your knees and the hard ground.

“But it does.” His hands dove into his underwear and sprung his cock out onto your lips. “Now get to work,”

Your eyes widened at the sight before you and you had to physically hold back from gulping. You were ashamed to admit your mouth watered in anticipation. You lifted your hands from his sculpted thighs and wrapped them around his length, enveloping just the tip past your parted lips. Bucky sighed and twitched in your mouth.

You welcomed him in fully, or as much as you could anyway, and got straight to work, not bothering to act abashed at your desire. Your tongue swirled around his tip and you leaned into him until he hit the back of your mouth but you continued on, gagging around him when he’d gotten inside your throat. Bucky groaned when your throat tightened around him and he threw his head back, using his flesh hand to guide you up and down his shaft, showing you what he liked and didn’t.

“Fuck, Doll,” he groaned, “Just how I imagined your mouth would feel,”

You pulled off him to comment when he shoved you all the way down to the hilt and you threw your hands up onto his thighs to hold yourself back. He used his metal arm to hold himself up and thrusted up into your salivating mouth desperately. He continuously hit the back of your throat and thick saliva coated his cock. Just as he promised, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and he didn’t stop until your cheeks were drenched in the liquid.

You let your jaw hang open, your tongue no longer swiveling around meticulous spots that you knew would make his legs buckle. No, you let him have the reigns. Let him fuck your mouth ‘til your throat grew bruised and jaw ached with fatigue. You committed his cries of pleasure to memory, the sounds euphoric to your ears.

He lifted his head and stared down at you with half-closed eyes. He was in heaven and you knew it. He watched you, how the tears trailed down, how your hands gripped at his thighs, how you stuck out your tongue just as you’d made it to the base of his cock to lick his balls in the most intoxicating way. Fuck. You were the intoxicating one. You brought out this side of him. This carnal desire that became him until he’d had to step out of the room just to compose himself. And he didn’t like being out of control. That’s why he always kept you at an arm’s distance.

But now, watching as you sat between him with your mouth agape like the good girl that you were for him, he knew he’d never deny himself this pleasure again. Especially since you were so fucking good at it.

He groaned, pulling you off his cock and grabbed tightly at your cheeks, nearly pinching your mouth together. “Tongue out.” He growled, waiting for your compliance.

Your jaw ached with exhaustion but you managed to stick out the wet muscle as he pulled you closer into him and watched when he parted his lips above you, letting the saliva trail down from his mouth into yours.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

But it was already done, and you left your mouth hanging open for more.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bucky grumbled, putting his face right up against yours and feeding you once again; this time with a sloppy kiss that coated both your mouths in saliva.

He brought you up from the floor and tossed you onto the bed before settling between your legs. The excitement in your eyes grew and he indulged in every minute of it. Bucky’s hand trailed down from your lower abdomen right above your pubic bone and pressed his palm into your neglected clit. The cry you let out was the unholiest thing he’d ever heard.

He slid his finger under the waistband of your underwear and flitted his gaze back up to your eyes, “Can I?”

You nodded eagerly, dumbfounded that he would even ask and fought the temptation to grab your phone from the nightstand and record everything that was about to unfold.

At the first nod, Bucky slid your underwear down your legs and made a show of bringing the material up to his face. Your own went red hot and you hid behind your hands, poking through every millisecond to shamefully watch. He threw the panties into his open duffel and you squirmed in anticipation.

“Remember the rules?” Bucky asked, brow lifted and already descending to your inner thigh.

You nodded again.

“I need to hear it, Doll,” he mumbled, kissing the inner part of your thigh, each placement closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Yes,” you whimpered out, “I remember the rules,”

Bucky wanted to dive right in, he really did, but the way you sprawled yourself out so vulnerable for him, it incited a new pace that he wanted to follow. So, he did. He looked at you for a few moments, watched how the anticipation danced in your eyes, how your legs shook in wait and how you were already so goddamn wet for him.

“This all for me?” he teased, mesmerized at your desire for him.

You dropped a hand down to your side, near where his hands were wrapped around your thighs to keep you in place - and against his face. He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your answer.

You nodded sheepishly and when he lifted an eyebrow in mock confusion you said, “You. Just you,”

Like music to his ears. Just him. You weren’t for anyone else. He thought he felt his heart palpitate.

He lowered himself down to your core and kissed your lip, drawing a desperate plea from you. You couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t deal with the teasing. You were wet enough, needy enough, ready enough to take him, all of him. You’d been ready damn near the moment you first laid eyes on his arrogant smirk.

“Buck - please,” you cried, drawling out the final word.

The first kiss placed upon your soaked cunt erupted a sigh of relief and you laid back on the pillow, your eyes closed and mind gone with the sensation of those sloppy kisses blessing your needs. He flattened his tongue on your lips and licked upwards, stopping when your hips twitched into his mouth.

“Sorry!” You apologized, fighting the desire to grind into his wet muscle. He’d just gotten started and you certainly didn’t want it to end so soon.

He lifted his gaze up to you and you bit into your fist at the view, using the extremity to hold back your moans. He flicked his attention down again and repeated his motion, lapping at your fluids ‘til his beard was soaked in it. He shook his head into your cunt and his nose rubbed along your clit. The mewling that left your mouth urged him on and when you felt his muscle prodding at your entrance you threw your head back.

“Please, Bucky.” You begged, bringing a hand up to tease your nipple.

He prodded some more, his tongue gliding up from your clit and back down to your entrance, poking through enough to frustrate you. He wanted you to break for him. To lose all composure and control and just let him. He wanted you to submit to him but it wasn’t just that, it was more that he wanted to destroy you for any future experience you may have without him. He wanted you to come back to him, to need him, to beg for him and leave you with the understanding that nothing - no one - could compare to him. He wanted you. To himself.

So, when he could no longer refrain and had to use his metal arm to hold your hips down from squirming beneath him, he slipped two thick, rough fingers into your begging cunt. And the sound you emitted caused that carnal instinct to claw at the barriers caging it in.

Your hand shot down, tangling itself into his hair and pushing him harder against you. He allowed it. Your thighs held him in place, crushing him with your soft skin and he groaned at the warmth you gave off. You pulled your hand away from your mouth and grabbed at his metal one resting on your pubic bone, pulling it up to your chest and wrapping his fingers on the sensitive bud for him to tease. He slowly retracted from your chest and brought it back down onto your hips and you huffed in annoyance. You looked down at Bucky but his eyes were shut, completely engrossed in the feast before him. You bucked when his fingers glazed across that sensitive spot inside your velvety walls.

“There!” You cried, your fist tightening in his hair when the all-too-familiar wave of ecstasy began to pool together, waiting for its release.

Bucky complied, dragging the pads of his fingers up against that spot over and over again. Your legs caged him in tighter as his tongue swirled over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves and you cried out at the way your body tensed.

“Fuck,” you cried, your hands desperately grasping onto Bucky’s metal wrist and tugging at the roots of his hair. Bucky’s groan of pleasure was what tipped you over the edge.

You gasped when the pool building released, your body shaking with euphoria and the flood crashed down onto you. And apparently, onto Bucky as well. He pulled his mouth away but continued rubbing at your clit when warm liquid squirted onto his face and his expression of surprise mirrored your own.

When Bucky looked up at you, your face burned with embarrassment and you threw your head back, using your hand to cover your countenance. Not to mention the sight of him with your juices all over his mouth was one of the hottest things you’d ever witnessed.

Bucky chuckled at your sheepish apology and removed your hand from your face, bringing his soaked mouth up to yours and having you taste yourself. You devoured each other, your arms wrapped tightly around the other, pulling so fiercely at the innate desire to become one in shared pleasure. He could feel his pride swell at your hidden confession. You’d never squirted before and he was lucky enough to be the one to give you that experience for the first time.

You clawed at him, divulging in the warmth his body radiated and intoxicating yourself in everything that was Bucky. You couldn’t get enough of it, of him. It was nearly too much.

His hand trailed up to your gaping mouth and he inserted his fingers, “Clean them,” he ordered.

Your hand gripped his wrist and pulled his fingers deeper into your mouth, never breaking eye contact with him, loving the way he ate up everything he was seeing. You noticed the way he swallowed.

He retracted his hand and wrapped it gently behind your head so you were resting on him. He brought his full weight down onto your body and a warmth emanated in your chest when he brought his lips up against your forehead, each kiss closer and closer to your lips until they met their destination. When you parted your mouth against his, it wasn’t merely an action of carnal desire, it was like you were exchanging life forces. Merging and meeting in a manner that had your body exploding and crying out for more of the faint familiarity. Like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.

Bucky looked down between your bodies at where you were about to connect before staring back up at you, taking you in as if he would never have this opportunity again. His thumb brushed your cheek and came to a rest on your bottom lip. “Ready?”

You chuckled, “Fuck me,”

He shoved inside in one clean motion and a breath of pleasure slid past both of your lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand tightening slightly around your neck and he pulled out slowly then shot back inside and you moaned.

You were still so sensitive from your previous climax that every brush against your clit sent you into a whirlwind of pleasure, the sensations shooting through every nerve in your body.

“Bucky,” you whined when his pace quickened and the sheer force of his thrusts drove you deeper into euphoria.

He filled you just right, his girth and length impressive and you wondered why you hadn’t tried to screw him earlier. He slid past your tight walls, each thrust causing the room to echo with the sounds of skin slapping and moans of ecstasy.

He kept his actions controlled, not wanting to build up to something so intense just for it to fall short and end fast. No. Despite how good you felt wrapped around his aching and swollen cock, despite how warm and welcoming you were, how you spread yourself out for him to consume, he had to leash himself. This was going to be just as good for you as it was for him.

He kissed you one last time before gripping the back of your knees and bringing your thighs up to your chest, a shout of praise falling off your lips. He was drunk on the sight of his cock going in and out of your cunt and he threw his head back with a groan.

“What a fucking pretty pussy,” he breathed out and you whimpered, biting your lip at the welcome profanities.

At this angle, he was fucking against your g-spot and using his pubic bone to rub against your clit and watching the thin layer of sweat sheen off his skin was all too much to keep yourself put together. His eyebrows scrunched together and you caught him taking in your form, watching how your pleasure displayed itself on your face for him to bear witness to. Only him.

He growled at the intrusion of thoughts that came to him. He pictured someone else in his position, someone else witnessing you so vulnerable and open to them, someone else fucking you and making you beg for them. It disgusted him. He brought his torso down and latched his teeth to your neck, biting down hard enough to have you tearing up.

“Mine,” he growled into your ear and lulled his head forward when you tightened around him.

A sinister smirk came to his face and he licked the shell of your ear, your breathy moans feeding him, “You like that?” He asked, pistoling further into your cunt and you shouted at the increase of pace, “You like when I tell you who you belong to?”

Your mouth hung agape and the one arm wrapped around his shoulder pulled him closer to you, your desperation for his warmth taking control. “Fuck . . . off,” you hissed between breaths.

He pulled out and yanked you up by your hair, twisting you around and pressing your torso into the wall but keeping your ass propped up for him to admire. You hissed at the pain when a sharp smack met your ass and your hands gripped at the wall for any way to ground yourself and prevent from becoming putty in his hands.

Another hard smack met your ass and you lurched forward to get away from the sting. Bucky kept your head pinned to the cement, his hand holding your cheek from scraping the wall but applying a pressure that had your tongue lolling out of your mouth.

You moaned at the intrusion in your pussy and he plummeted in and out, a mix of your grunts and groans bouncing around the room. His pace constantly changed. One second it was fast, the next it was slow but filling, going so far as to hit your cervix a few times and leave you a crying mess under his hold. Your shoulder scraped along the wall and you fought to push away only to have your chest slammed harder against the cement.

You brought a hand out, reaching behind yourself and grasping for Bucky’s hip, pushing him deeper into you when he slowed. Your nails dug into his flesh and the sound of his hiss shot straight to your core.

“What a goddamn whore,” he spat, bringing his teeth down onto your neck and you gripped at his hair.

You laughed at his statement, “You’re the one that can’t get enough of this pussy. Why so desperate to claim it? Afraid I'll fuck someone else?” Bucky pulled you back and slammed you against the wall with vigor, causing you to flinch

He stopped his thrusts altogether, “My patience only goes so far, Doll,” he threatened, tugging at your hair and you bit back a cry, “Choose your words wisely,”

You nodded hastily, the rough texture of the wall digging into your cheek and splitting skin. You wriggled up against him to continue moving but he retracted completely and flipped you over so he was laying on the bed and you were straddling him.

“Move,” he ordered, his hands digging bruises into your waist.

You leaned over, pressing your chest against his to lift your hips up and down on him but he pushed you back up and held your arms behind your back to keep you in place. You whimpered but the cry quieted when you rubbed your clit against him and your pussy clenched at the friction. You moaned out a breathy fuck and swiveled your hips around his, noting how much deeper he filled you in this position.

“Buck-” you huffed, eyes glued to the glistening abs beneath you. “I’m gonna cum,”

“Already?” He jeered, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

You’d lost all energy to sneer at him, your focus solely on how the sensation grew and began pooling in your cunt. “Cock . . . so good,” you breathed out, barely able to keep yourself from melting into him.

“What was that, Doll?” He stilled your movements and you groaned in annoyance.

You wriggled in his hold and you could tell by the furrow of his brow that he was fighting to keep control as well. You leaned over him, your lips hovering over his, “Mine,”

His grip flew to the back of your neck and he crashed your lips onto his, giving you full reign again. You bounced your hips on his dick, slamming down vigorously and rubbing your clit in effect. It didn’t take long for your climax to build again.

“’M gonna . . .” you whispered and Bucky placed you back up, gripping your hips and swiveling you around how you were earlier.

“Cum, Doll,” he allowed, “Cum all over this cock,”

You cried out, your toes curling as the dam in your core snapped and your climax washed over you. You hadn’t realized your fingers were intertwined with Bucky's until you came back down from your high, your chest heaving for breath.

He sat up slowly and pressed his lips against your neck. “You’re beautiful,”

Your body tensed at his words and you pulled away to give him a look of confusion. But he didn’t take his statement back, only slipped his hands around your back and gently placed you onto the bed, hovering over you.

He moved with caution, like his gentleness might scare you off if he touched you too tenderly or stared too long in admiration. But he couldn’t help it, he did admire you.

He spread your legs open and nestled between them, pushing into you slowly until your hips met and you both breathed out. His movements weren’t nearly as brutal as they were earlier, these thrusts were slow and deep and full of intention. He brought his torso down onto yours and you wrapped your legs around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

He ran his hand, the only one he allowed himself to touch you affectionately with, through your hair and stared down at you, waiting. His gaze shifted between your lips to your eyes and he ran his thumb delicately along your mouth.

You looked at him then, really looked at him with fresh eyes and your heart leapt into your throat at the realization. “Kiss me,” you whispered and he lowered himself onto your lips, setting off an explosion in your chest.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, not able to bring himself to look at you, “I’ve been yours,”

You opened your mouth to respond but he silenced you with a deep thrust and a moan erupted instead. He quickened his pace, watching where you connected and pushed deeper and harder, your cries of pleasure driving him. He had to fuck you, he couldn’t love you, he couldn’t make love to you, just fuck. That’s it. He couldn’t allow himself to replay your look of shock at his confession, though the scene would surely be on loop for the next few days until he could get over it. Just fuck. Nothing more. Not with that look of disbelief on your face.

He held himself up with his forearms but you pressed him against you and wrapped your legs tighter around him. “Harder,” you whispered and he complied.

He groaned when your tits bounced and brought his mouth to a nipple, the faint taste of sweat lingering on your skin. You brought his metal hand up to your chest and made him grip the flesh there but he pulled it back and placed it beside your head instead.

“Bucky,” you whimpered and grabbed his hand again, bringing his open palm up to your lips and placing delicate kisses on the metal. “You can feel with it, right?”

He nodded, hesitance sprawled on his face.

“Then touch me,” you urged, bringing the hand down between your bodies and pressing the cold metal against your clit, “Feel me,”

His brows furrowed slightly but the look of your certainty forced him to dismiss his own perceptions of his body; or rather, that arm. And when he began rubbing circles into your bundle of nerves the expression on your face made him hate it a little less. Only a little.

You stared up at him, his pace growing erratic and sloppy and you knew he was close. “You wanna cum?”

He nodded, his hot breath coming out haggard and strained. You placed your hand on his cheek and brought him up to your kiss.

“Then cum,”

He shook his head, “You first,” he swirled his finger around your swollen clit and you gasped at the force of his thrust.

Your body tensed and you centered all your focus on his ministrations, “A little more pressure,” you directed and he quickly found a pressure that had you wobbling in the knees. “Close,” you murmured, gripping Bucky’s side and bringing your lips up to his neck to pepper the skin there.

He groaned and judging by the way his dick twitched inside you, you knew he wasn’t far behind.

“Bucky,” you whispered, pulling his attention towards you and his gaze brought you closer to the edge, “I’m yours,”

He blinked and his pace faltered for half a beat. He examined your facial expression, like he didn’t believe the words you’d spoken. Not like he couldn’t believe them, but like you’d said them just to appease him.

You placed your forehead against his, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to center yourself in the haze of this fucking. “Yours,” you repeated, all the emotion residing in your chest poured into the singular word.

And then he was back to drilling you into the mattress, a new vigor fueling his thrusts. You cried out and Bucky pressed his sweaty torso flat against your own and it felt like the essence, the being, in your chest intermingled with his own and all the climaxes you’d previously experienced couldn’t hold a match to the flame, the intensity, the rawness of the one that washed over the both of you in that moment.

Bucky moaned out, his hips bucking into yours and you rode out both of your highs. The sensation consuming and overwhelming and welcome on both ends as it flooded through your bodies, meeting at your point of contact.

His arms flexed above you with the ferocity of his climax and the display had you writhing beneath him, already desperate for more.

“Buck,” you whispered when his breathing evened out after he collapsed onto you.

He didn’t respond, afraid it had all been a dream, a trick, despite still being inside you. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the perfection of this moment. What if you’d only said that to get him to finish faster? What if you’d only fed him what he wanted to hear? What if-

“Buck,” you repeated, pulling him from his daze and he lifted his head only slightly. You gripped his chin lightly and forced him to look you in the eye. “You’re . . . mine?”

He wanted to shake his head, to tell you that he got caught up in the moment but instead he said, “Yours,” because he knew anything else would be a lie and he was tired of lying.

You studied him and nodded, “Yours,” you stated, already rolling your eyes from the smirk forming on his face, “Unfortunately,”

He brought your face to his and planted a tender kiss on your lips. He started shifting his position and grabbed the underwear he’d been wearing earlier before pulling out and using the cloth to clean the mess pooling out of you. But not before taking a mental picture, of course.

After a few minutes of laying together, his hand playing with a few strands of hair, you felt the warm welcome of sleep beginning to drag you into its embrace. You opened your eyes groggily and looked up at Bucky who was already looking down at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I know about your night terrors,” you whispered and his actions halted momentarily before returning to brush through your hair, “I hear you sometimes. And I understand why you don’t want to go to sleep but,” you sat up slowly and placed the thick blanket down on the floor, dragging the pillow down with you and patting the open space beside you, “you should rest. I’ll be here to calm you or stay up with you. Whichever one you need,”

He didn’t move at first, his ears drowning out any thought he could have while processing what you’d said. He’d stayed silent so long you’d thought you’d crossed a line.

“I can always sleep on the bed if you’d prefer, though,”

Bucky shook himself from his thoughts and edged closer to the floor, slowly descending into the available space and wrapping the blanket around the both of you as much as he could. “No,” he said, “I want you here,”

You hummed in response and snuggled into his waiting arms, lightly wrapping your own around him, making sure to kiss the part of himself he hated the most before fatigue swept you up into its clutches. Bucky followed soon after.

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nikmikaelsonswife · 4 years ago

Text

Starved.

Description: Klaus is in a rut and is completely infatuated with his woman, which makes a combo that rocks your fucking world.

Pairing: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader

Warnings: erotic scenes for 18+, mentions of bodily fluids, spanking, slight choking, overstimulation, unprotected sex, fingering, vulgar language, swearing, slight angst, spitting, pure filth

A/N: this is...my ultimate klaus fantasy. hot hybrid sex. hope you enjoy as much as i did in writing. masterlist.

It was nearing two in the morning when he arrived home. You weren’t ridden with worry, as you knew better than many that he could take care of himself. But as his lover, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief when you heard him enter the compound.

You immediately woke from your slumber, being a light sleeper and already on an paranoia induced edge at your husband’s absence. When he stepped through the bedroom threshold, you could feel the shift in the atmosphere, could identify his mood with merely a glance at his face.

He was pissed.

His azure irises had darkened into a gorgeous navy, his eyebrows set into a furrow and his jaw was clenched. You found it incredibly sexy, but you were also concerned. “What happened?”

Your question was left unanswered and he showed no sign of hearing it in the first place, but it was unlikely that he didn’t. His heated gaze was set on you as if you were the source of his anger, his strawberry red lips pulled into a resentful scowl. The look he was giving you sent shivers cascading down your spine and right between your thighs.

He stalked toward the bed, pulling his sweater over his head and unzipping his jeans in the process. Kicking off his boots and dropping his pants along with his boxers, he made it blatantly obvious that he didn’t want to talk. Standing before you in all his glory, he yanked the covers back before climbing on top of you.

Your pussy was pulsing at this point, as you raised your arms so he could pull your nightie over your head. It was the only thing you wore to bed and he grunted at the sight of your naked body, smashing his lips against your own. You fell into sync with him without hesitation, moving your mouth with his, his kiss taking your breath away.

Your hands moved under his arms to his back, bringing him impossibly closer. You nor him could get enough, there was no limit to the desire. The heat from your bodies rose the temperature in the room as he moved against you, his cock sliding through your arousal. You were always ready, always needy, always wanting.

But apparently, the wetness between your thighs wasn’t enough for Klaus. He pulled away from the kiss, rotating his jaw before spitting on your cunt. Your hips bucked at that, heat tingling in pleasured appreciation. Especially when he rubbed it in with his thumb, finger sliding through your folds.

“Holy,” you whispered at the sight, holding back a whine when he removed his finger. But, your excitement returned shortly after as he brought you close, holding you tight in his embrace.

He guided himself toward your entrance, slamming inside to the hilt, to which you audibly gasped. Your lips had separated, his strong arms wrapped around shoulders as he watched your face with a glare. He didn’t wait for you to adjust before he pulled back and sunk all the way in, his jaw ticking as he welcomed the pleasure. It was uncomfortable and painful at first, but soon the bliss overrode anything besides it.

“Niklaus...” Your whispers were addressed to the night, eyes falling shut and chin pointed up as he ground into you, his ass tight as he worked. The muscles in his back flexed underneath the scratch of your nails, his mouth moving to suckle at the smooth skin of your neck. A hand moved to your tit, his thumb flicking your hardened nipple.

He consumed all your senses as he took you, your body trapped underneath his as he held you against him. In moments like these, you couldn’t feel more his. As he kissed you, touched you, fucked you like he owned everything that was you. You got to see a side no one else was allowed to witness, his most primal state. The animal deep within was obsessed with you, marking you as it’s only worthy prey.

His queen.

The headboard tapped against the wall with each harsh thrust, the room filled with cries and groans. Your high wasn’t far, you could feel it nearing with the heat flushing through your entire body. The coil was tightening in your pelvis and the relentless snapping of Klaus’ hips pushed you further and further to bliss.

Your legs shook around his waist as you fell over the edge, his gaze on you, intensely studying the way your eyes brightened as the levee broke. Sweat ran down the valley between your breasts as your chest heaved, your lashes fluttering in excitement.

You were abruptly flipped over, large hands tugging at your waist and pushing down on your back so that your arch grew steeper. He slipped back inside, leaning over your body so he could grip the back of your neck. He mercilessly slammed his hips against your ass, the sound sending tingles down your spine.

The rougher he pushed into you, the rougher you pushed back against him, earning an harsh slap on the ass that made you jolt. Moaning as the pain shot straight to your core, you gripped the sheets so tight your fingers began to ache.

The sex never failed to quench your thirst, to quell the ache you felt during nearly every moment in his presence. But this, the rough, vast passion produced a feeling that only came from him. The tight grip of his hands, his eager kiss and his ravenous gaze — it relit the fire in you, made you feel truly alive.

He threw his head back momentarily before it fell so he could watch himself rut into you. You thought it was insane how quickly he could take you there as you felt the pleasure building in your lower stomach. “Fuck,” you cursed repeatedly under your breath as you came all over his cock.

You were lifted off of the bed and into Klaus’ lap, his palm sliding up to wrap around your throat. Fucking into you with fervor, his other hand slipped in between your thighs to thumb your clit. His cock stroked your g-spot, the over stimulation sending you into a spiral that elicited a strangled scream from your throat.

“One more, lovie. For me, please.” You’d never come so fast so many times in a row. Not that he was a gentle lover, but breaks were usually taken. Yet, you knew you could him another. He knew your body better than you did, anything was possible with him.

You rocked against his palm and cock as he pulled your face to him as he sought out your lips once more, smashing his mouth against yours in a heated kiss. It seemed his entire mood had shifted, the anger alleviating, leaving behind pure lust. Your fingers slipped up over his nape and into his hair, roughly tugging on the soft golden curls.

He groaned in response, “Just like that.” Klaus ducked his head down, nose running along the junction between your shoulder and neck, his tongue flicking against you. Due to his salivating, his drool found your skin, rolling until it met your hardened peak. To which he flicked as he slowly thrusted his hips, leaving you to shudder in utter surprise and arousal. “Going to come for me, hm?”

It’d be your third time tonight and you weren’t sure if you could do it again. Kisses of encouragement were peppered along your cheek, “Tell me...” You could feel his hooded gaze trained on the side of your face, awaiting a verbal response.

Although, you couldn’t give one as your lips parted so you could let out a loud, shaky cry.

He kissed you then, refusing to pull away, tugging your plump bottom lip between his teeth and letting it go with a snap. Watching as you came undone, he couldn’t help the admiration that sparkled in his darkened eyes under the moonlight that streamed into your bedroom. You were hyper aware of it, of every part of him, attempting to hold his gaze as he continued to rock into you through your bliss.

He pecked your lips, “I love you.”

“I love you.” Instead of emphasizing the last word, it came out as a moan as your sudden release washed over you, while simultaneously hitting you like a freight train. As you clenched around him, Klaus groaned loudly in your ear, burying his head in your neck.

Biting down on your shoulder, his cock thickened before he came hard, warmth filling your insides. You inhaled deeply, exhaustion hooding your eyelids. Laying down, you rolled onto your back and welcomed your husband as he laid across your chest.

You watched him from above, wondering what had him acting so out of character. Although, you couldn’t deny that whatever it was, you hoped it would happen more often.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson imagine #the vampire diaries #the originals

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glaivenoct · 2 years ago

Note

I know you've been wanting to write this. Nyxnoct. One character is enraged, and the other is trying to calm them down

... actually I may not have worded it correctly, I forgot the prompt Im sorry 🙏

I think you're referring to the first answer in this ask I answered a while back? (NOTE: for some reason I used the word violet answering that ask when I meant the magenta color in Noct's eyes?? My brain wasn't working that day apparently ^^;) Consider this a snippet of something I 1000% intend to come back to and flesh out more because - A;DKJSLFGDKF.

***(Some violence ahead) ***(This is the longest one I've written from the requests so far, it was hard to keep it as short as the others. I wrote it kinda fast too)

He can't recount a moment in his life where his veins burned inside him like this. Nor a moment where the world spun around him so fast it felt as though he could barely keep his head on straight. There's a swirling pit in his stomach; an incessant ringing in his ears that makes him want to reach up and cover them.

He can't with his wrists strapped down to this cold, uncomfortable metal chair. Not with the man in the white lab coat approaching to grab him by the chin and tilt his head back to examine him.

The man is but a mere magenta blur to Noctis as he fights the rush of dizziness and squirms in his seat. Something sharp and painful is going to come. He knows it and his heart thuds in his chest as he attempts to wrench himself from the man's hold.

"The eyes are still pink. Neck's flaring up like he's overexerting. Drain his magic."

Noctis knows what comes after that. It's typically a prick in his neck followed by a shock that renders him and his magic useless, only to be injected by something else that increases his senses and awareness ten fold.

It's an odd feeling; someone attempting to tear the magic of your ancestors from your body and channel it for their own gain. Noctis didn't try to understand the researchers' logic or hypotheses on how to do such a thing. All he could do was writhe and scream as they poked and prodded at the magic that's become as natural to him as breathing.

For the last few days it's as if they've done nothing but toy with a magical fight or flight response; forcing him into a sickening state of stasis only to overwhelm him until the magic resurfaced for Noctis' own sake. Every time Noctis is at the height of his panic and pain threshold, the magic takes over completely.

This time it takes no prisoners.

It starts with the light fixture above suddenly flickering, causing the person that approaches Noctis with a new needle to pause and look up. The tingle of lightning spurs at the tips of Noct's fingers, and in the next second the light fixture above them shatters.

"What the - "

Noct's fists clench atop the chairs armrests, a magical fire igniting him as his skull and heart pounds relentlessly. He raises his arms up, wrists tearing through the leather that binds them like they're merely cheap fabric. The second light fixture in the room shatters, the only light in the room being the flickering of the various computer screens that monitored Noct's vitals. He's not even hooked up to them, but they still beep with furious caution and warning as they smoke and short circuit.

The man on his left is far too distracted by the sudden chaos to avoid Noctis grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, glaring at him with magenta disgust before shooting up from his seat and tossing him against the one way glass window nearby. The glass cracks upon impact and the man falls unconscious to the floor.

"Guards!" The other man calls, and Noctis whips around faster than the man can blink, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him high from the floor. The flames emanating from his palm turn as pink as his eyes, stealing the breath and even the screams from the man as his throat suddenly grows gray and ashen. He thrusts the man against the other wall just as the door behind him swings open.

One glance over his shoulder and Noctis phases aside in a phantom of blue, leaving the man to slide and crumple to the floor. Noctis phases again, this time in front of the pair of MTs rushing inside to put him down. He skewers them both with a blue phantom spear, crystal like shards sparking off both him and the weapon as it sizzles with lightning. When they're both thrust back into the hall, the spear returns to Noctis' side and disappears.

"I knew it," a hoarse voice comes from behind him, and Noctis' head snaps to follow the voice. He turns to see the man slumped on the floor, wheezing and gripping his own neck where Noctis left singe marks. "I knew with enough time we could see the Caelum magic at it's most primal. I'll bet there's things... even the Founder King never knew he was capable of. All those years of honing put to waste by tradition." He chuckles, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit. "Never thinking beyond the scope of what you think you know. With enough research... enough conditioning... you'd make a fine weapon. Wouldn't you, little prince?"

Noctis gnashes his teeth and snarls at the man with a low, guttural noise. Little prince. He knows that name, but never uttered in such a threatening manner. The magic inside him flares, the magenta color in his eyes intensifying their glow as he phases in front of the man. Noctis gets down on his knees and grabs him by the neck again, dragging him up on his feet and against the wall.

Danger. Danger. Danger. It's all he can hear in his head as he tilts his head at the suffocating man. He can feel that quickening pulse underneath his palm as he squeezes, the tingle of electricity charging up at his finger tips. He won't be safe until he gets rid of everyone here.

"Noct!"

Noctis startles at the cry, suppressing his own magical instincts before they unleash upon the man before him. That voice. He knows that voice.

"Shit..."

"What the... hell?"

He knows those voices too. Noctis maintains his sturdy grip on the man's throat as he slowly looks over his shoulder. There's a group of five filtering in. Two of them are hooded. The other three... they look painfully familiar. Noctis frowns and exhales shakily, far too overloaded to concentrate on anything properly.

"Might need to see this one for yourself, Marshal..." The bigger one with the tattooed arms says as he touches something on his ear.

"Noct, put the researcher down." One of the hooded ones says, slowly walking ahead of the rest. "We need him alive."

That doesn't make any sense. If the man he keeps pinned to this wall stays alive, then Noctis isn't safe. Noctis bears his teeth and almost hisses at the hooded man, making him pause in his steps and hold out his hands.

"You don't recognize my voice, Noct?" He says and slowly reaches with one hand to pull back his hood. He does recognize it, and it makes him exhale shakily. "It's me. Nyx."

That face. The blue eyes with the tattoo under one of them. The tattoo on his cheek. The stubble along his strong jaw. The hair and the braids.

"Nyx..." He says curiously, a fuzzy memory of Nyx placing that same coat over Noct's own shoulders.

"Your other friends, too," Nyx says as he starts to approach him again. "You know. Gladio, Ignis and Prompto. You remember Pelna too, don't you?"

"Let the guy go, Noct," Gladio chimes in calmly. "We've got you covered from here."

"You'll be home in no time," Ignis adds, followed by Prompto's:

"You're safe with us, buddy."

Guys. Noctis lets out a heavy breath, head hanging as he releases his hold on the man. He falls to the floor in a fit of coughs, Gladio and Pelna immediately moving to secure him. It doesn't startle or set Noctis off, if only because of Nyx stopping right in front of him. His gloves hands are still held where Noct can see them.

The moment they come up to cup his face, the magical fire of preservation starts to diffuse in him.

"Eyes on me," Nyx says softly. "Breathe with me. Can you do that? Big breath in and out."

Noctis follows Nyx's lead, the pounding in his skull and chest starting to fade by the third time they do it.

"There you go," Nyx smiles at him and nods. "You're okay. You're safe. You recognize me now, right?"

"Nyx." Noctis whispers as the magenta at the corners of his vision bleeds away, and Nyx taking his hands is crystal clear.

How... how did he forget for even a second?

There's little time to ponder as the world around Noctis starts to spin again. His head and body ache. Before he can think to say anything else, he screws his eyes shut and grunts, nearly faltering to his knees. Nyx catches him before he can crash down unkindly, and bears all the weight as Noctis leans into him.

"Easy. Easy. You're going to be okay."

"You found me." Noctis says, burying his face into the crook of Nyx's neck.

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting. Doubt it was worth it this time." Nyx sighs and wraps his arms around Noct to hold him tightly. "I've got you now, little king. I've got you."

#nyxnoct asks #author entries: fics #LISTEN this could easily end up being a 5k+ fic but this is the best my brain can offer right now #I CAN MAKE THIS EVEN BETTER ONE DAY #thank you for sending!! ;u;

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donaweasley · 3 years ago

Text

Their Little Secret

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Plot: This can be read as a sequel to What If or even as a solo.

The reader and Loki have been best friends for long, but eventually realised that it was more than just friendship. As they secretly step into a new world, the entire team, unbeknownst to it all, makes it their mission to make the love birds realise and confess what they feel for each other.

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst in relationship, a happy ending! Oh! And late-night hazards and a long read. Sorry!

Read time: ~26 mins

“(Y/N), could you please take a look at this once?”

Loki waltzed in through (Y/N)’s door with a file in his hand. She was reading a book, when he knocked.

“It’s pretty late. I thought you said you’d go straight to bed. What are you doing with this poor old piece of rat-food now?”

“I did. But then I couldn’t sleep. So...I thought of doing something boring enough to lull me to sleep. But this old file actually turned out to be quite interesting,” he explained animatedly. “I just couldn’t understand one part. So, here I am!”

She eyed him suspiciously as he spread his arms to accentuate his royal presence.

“That, or you wanted to see me, and this file is a flimsy excuse,” she drawled.

“Come on, darling! I’m fond of you but not to the extent that I’ll have to make lame excuses to see you. Besides, why would I need to lie to you?”

After taking a moment to consider his words, she stepped beside him and asked him to show the file.

“It is here - this part,” he pointed at a chunk of printed information.

“This one is…” She pondered aloud. “That doesn’t make sense! Loki, w-where did you get this from? That doesn’t look like any mission report or anything. It looks like...an excerpt...from...a book?”

Before she could register, a kiss landed on her cheek. It was immediately followed by Loki excitedly wishing her, “Goodnight, darling,” and vanishing into a green glow.

She stood stunned for a while. Gradually, the tingling sensation where Loki’s lips had caressed her skin began to spread like wildfire through her face, and soon she was blushing and smiling like an idiot.

“Idiot!” She cursed him as she flopped back on the bed.

After a few seconds of fiddling with the bookmark, and staring at blurred lines on the page, she closed the book, and decided to call it a night. After what Loki just did, nothing else could compare to a happier ending to the day.

As she closed her eyes, sunny memories started flooding her mind.

It had all started hardly two months ago, when they were having their usual midnight snacks, casually talking the day’s stress away, talking nonsense - just the usual best buddy night.

But then something happened: a childish game of “what-ifs”.

It was fun, for the most part, until Loki had asked her about her intentions if she met the love of her life the next day. Already stained with painful memories of past relationships and with the hopelessness about her love life, she tried her best to evade the question. But Loki, being Loki, kept proding her until she gave him a genuine reason for her frustration.

And everything changed after that. Because in trying to save the other from falling down the emotional cliff, they had saved each other. They had found each other.

She laughed softly as she remembered the hesitancy in both their hearts as they had crossed the threshold of friendship.

That was the first time that she had kissed him. On the cheek. And that was even before she had fully realised that her feelings for him were no longer platonic.

That was the first time Loki had put an arm around her and pulled her close to him.

Another giggle escaped her as she remembered the moment when the soft morning light, and a stiff back had awakened her from her sleep.

Both were still sitting in almost the same position as they had been when they were chatting.

She had found herself cocooned in the arms of Loki, her legs tangled with his, both of them safe under the thin blanket that Loki had picked while preparing for their night. Her head rested on his chest, while his rested on the top of her head.

The last thing that she remembered from the previous night was them promising each other that no matter how things turned out, they’d always be beside one another. And then Loki had pulled her closer, and gently laid her head on his throbbing chest.

It was now peacefully moving up and down with his sleepy breaths. Before opening her eyes to reality, she stole a few moments to let this feeling sink in.

When she had closed her eyes the night before, there was an excitement so high in the air that Thor’s thunder would have been ashamed. It was the hammering of Loki’s heart that had eventually put her to sleep.

The morning brought a peaceful rhythm beneath her ears. It was beautiful, it was calm, it was...reassuring. She loved it more than the thrill of the past few hours.

But no matter how long she tried to soak herself in the feeling, the incidents of the night before still seemed somewhat unbelievable. How could something months long change overnight? Was it all a mirage then, cast by the treacherous night?

The darkness of the night sets the mind free to imagine anything, take any decision. But the clarity of the day brings logic to the forefront, which sometimes turns out to be good but sometimes not so good.

But...it had felt right. She took a deep breath to clear her mind. It still felt right. That was all the assurance that she needed for the moment.

As she turned in her bed, she remembered the raspy voice in which Loki had wished her a good morning.

The close proximity, the husky, sleep-laden voice, the sudden change in the air - everything made blood rush to her cheeks and ears. Loki had sleepily chuckled at her flushed state, though he was only slightly better than her in hiding his own flustered state.

Ever since, not a single day had passed when the two of them hadn’t thanked the stars.

She used to think that she loved Loki’s friendship more than anything. She was happy to be proven wrong when she experienced Loki’s courtship.

A different flower everyday, sometimes inside her room, laid carefully near her door, sometimes on her bedside table, and on some mornings, beside her pillow.

She was used to going out with her best friend Loki, but going out with her boyfriend Loki was an experience on a whole new level. Light brushes of the fingers, sometimes an arm around her shoulder, intertwining of fingers, occasional brushes of his lips on her temple, and not-very-occasional blushes that tinted both their skins.

Every day, before parting for the day, she was blessed with bear hugs from him - something that she had never expected him to be fond of.

It was the best time of her life! Almost every doubt that she had about this relationship not working out had evaporated long ago. It was - she dared to say - perfect!

Except for one small hiccup: they had to keep everything off the radar.

For one, they were still testing the waters. No matter how happy and confident they were with one another, their newfound relationship was still at its infancy, and they didn’t want to declare anything to the rest of the team right away.

Second, everybody in the compound had been teasing both (Y/N) and Loki about “getting a room” for a long time. They didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of knowing that they were finally correct. Well, figuratively.

Unfortunately, the team did not know that they had already confessed their feelings to each other. And so, they were desperate to make the love birds see the truth of their emotions. The Avengers, tough and stubborn as they were, never gave up. And Loki and (Y/N) simply decided to play along.

For instance, around a month and a half ago, Tony had thrown one of his usual parties at the compound, and had brought a line of apparent suitors for (Y/N) and a host of gorgeous ladies and lads to introduce to Loki.

Though the new couple was initially confused at the unbridled attention, they eventually understood what was going on: Tony Stark had decided to use the age-old recipe of jealousy to crack either one or both of them.

It was fun, they both admitted later, to dance to the tune, and give the host a frowning face when he realised that neither were biting the bait. Instead, both seemed to be enjoying themselves flirting or dancing with their respective “baits”.

What escaped the eagle eyes of the team were the furtive looks that both (Y/N) and Loki threw at each other from time to time. It wasn’t easy to masquerade those longing glances with playful teases that two friends might share. But they had to.

Late into the night, after the party was over, Loki teleported into (Y/N)’s room. The security cameras were still a threat to their little secret.

“Hello beautiful!” Loki purred when she didn’t turn all her attention towards him as she usually did, but kept herself apparently busy in making the bed.

“Is this my consolation prize for all your flirting this evening?” She tried to keep it casual but her displeasure seeped into her tone.

“Ooh, someone sounds jealous,” he drawled.

“Speak for yourself, God!”

Loki stepped towards her, and gently caught her hand, putting a pause to her actions.

“Look at me. Please?”

She smiled as she faced him, but he could easily catch the facade.

“I know what you're trying to do. You can’t fool me, (Y/N).”

“And what is it that I’m doing?” She tried to question with the same casualness but her voice kept betraying her.

“You are trying to make it look like it didn’t affect you - me being with all those lovely people. But in reality, you are hurt, even if it is a tiny bit.”

Her smile faltered. Of course, she couldn’t fool the God of Lies!

Closing her eyes, she shook her head, “I don’t know why you’re saying this Loki. I’m perfectly fine! Why would I-”

“You and I understand each other perfectly,” Loki gently cut her off. “Or did you forget that?”

He reminded her of the one line - of the one realisation - that had triggered the tiniest thoughts of them being possibly together, if at all.

Realizing that all doors were closed for her, she tried to turn away from him, only to be stopped by the trickster.

“If it makes you feel any good,” he resumed, “it did burn me a bit, too, to watch you dance and laugh with those clowns.”

At this, she burst into laughter. Loki was glad at the change of mood, and allowed a few happy creases around his eyes as well.

“Is that true,” she asked, “or are you simply trying to make me feel better?”

He shrugged, “What do you think?”

“I’d like to believe that it’s true,” she confessed shyly.

“It is.”

“Well then,” she said after suppressing a wild grin that tried to crack its way through, “I guess that makes us even.”

“Guess so.”

“I’m sorry, Loki,” she sighed, “I lied earlier because I didn’t want to put any kind of pressure on you or anything. I mean...jealousy? That’s the first stage of obsession. And...I don’t want you to think that...”

“Hey,” Loki held both her hands in his, “your feelings for me will never suffocate me. On the contrary, they help me breathe. You have given my life a new purpose. I thought I was happy being your best friend. But this...this is even better. Never think that you’re putting any kind of pressure on me. None of those men or women out there, or anywhere for that matter, can bring me what I feel with you, for you.”

Words seemed insufficient for what she wanted to say. So, she simply nodded, and wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his chest.

He chuckled as he ran his hand on her head, “Being jealous actually makes you look cute.”

She unwrapped herself from him just enough to look at his face, “Says the man who just confessed being jealous himself!”

“I never said I don’t look cute,” he shrugged again.

Shaking her head and laughing, she pulled his face down, and placed a warm kiss on his cheek.

“Go now, before I punch that cute face of yours.”

“When you say ‘punch’,” Loki drawled, “do you mean…’kiss every inch of’...?”

Blushing furiously, she pushed him towards the door.

“Shut up, and just go!”

Loki laughed as he wished her a lovely night, and disappeared into his usual green glow.

---------------

But the Avengers were not the ones to give up.

Not many weeks later, Natasha planned an evening at one of her favourite nightclubs. While Steve, Vision and Bucky backed out of the plan, given their previous not-so-delightful interactions with the loudness and the crowd, Thor and Tony were adamant on dragging Loki with them.

“We thought you liked a little fun! Since when did you start wearing grandpa’s knickers?” Tony snorted.

“C’mon, brother, don’t embarrass me,” Thor’s voice boomed in Loki’s room. “(Y/N) has embarrassed me enough. She didn’t want to go either. Said she’d rather sleep than be tormented by the blasted noise.”

She said what? That means she’s going to stay back-

“Wait, what?” Tony turned towards Thor with a perplexed look, “She said that?”

He turned around to face Loki again, “Are you two planning something or have you both become boring?”

No, no, no! They’ll add up…

“I am not boring!” Loki declared. He decided to stay quiet on the other option that Stark had mentioned.

“Well, then join us,” Tony shrugged.

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Loki agreed.

Needless to say, his eyes went wide when he saw (Y/N) dressed up and ready for the outing when he was expecting her in her pajamas. When she silently questioned him, he immediately realised that he had been tricked.

I have to be more careful.

The team’s plan soon became obvious when, after a few rounds of shots, everyone made a beeline to the dance floor, leaving behind a string of excuses, and Loki and (Y/N) at the bar. Even through the crowd, the duo’s trained eyes could catch glimpses of their teammates shadowing them.

“Do they really think getting drunk will make us confess?” She shouted over the sound of the music.

“I’m a God,” he shouted back. “Midgardian liquor doesn’t affect me anyway.”

“Well, it affects me,” she shrugged and drained another shot down her throat, “and I love it!”

Last one.

She had started feeling dizzy. Getting wasted could be saved for another moment when she wasn’t being spied on.

A few minutes passed in silence as neither was fond of shouting to communicate. (Y/N) bobbed her head to the music while Loki eyed the mass of bodies swaying and moving with the beats.

“Would you-” Loki began but stopped midway.

While her eyes questioned him, he silently slipped from the stool, and came to stand almost behind her.

His hot breath, dipped in a faint whiff of alcohol, hit the shell of her ear as he purred, “Would you like to dance with me?”

She was rendered immobile for a while. A small corner of her mind wondered if Loki knew what he was doing to her.

I bet he knows what he’s doing.

“I’d have loved to!” She drawled. “It’s a shame there isn’t room for a waltz here, and I wouldn’t want a God like you to hop like teeangers in the crowd.”

She felt his chest brush against her back.

“I was actually hoping that you’d be up for that dance,” he pointed at a section of the crowd where bodies were gliding against each other in the most provocative ways.

Her breath hitched again. She didn’t need to turn her head to know that Loki was smirking at his achievement.

But this time, she wouldn’t squeal, she wouldn’t push him away with a timid smile. Diffidence and boldness both tugged at polar ends of her heart until boldness won the war.

Not this time. Two can play the game, darling.

“So, what’s stopping you?” Her lips almost brushed his earlobe as she tilted her head to whisper in his ear.

Where did that come from?!

Loki wasn’t prepared for this.

It was usually him who threw mildly suggestive comments which she pushed away with a shy gesture. He never expected the tables to turn so quickly.

She did not even have enough shots to get drunk yet, he noticed.

“What happened, did the cat get your silver tongue?” She smirked.

“I-I...uh...”

While Loki continued to gape at her, an inkling of panic nudged her chest.

Did I take it too far? He obviously wasn’t ready for this, but…

It all must have been another prank for him, and I…

No!

With a cackle, she sliced the apparent tension in the air. “So, finally got you, ha? Mischief!” She winked.

Turning towards the bartender, she ordered another shot.

Loki’s brain was still trying to decipher her behaviour.

Did she really mean it…? It didn’t look like a joke though…

As she focused on her drink, he thought he saw a flicker of disappointment cross her face, but the incessant dance of light and shadows made her features almost unreadable.

“You should get back to your seat, y’know?” She told him with downcast eyes.

“What?”

“The team might notice and...they might know.”

Did her voice just...tremble?

Loki hated the place: the noise, the dim lights, the secrecy - he hated the way everything seemed to veil her from him.

“I think I’ll go find them.”

Downing another drink, she hopped off her seat, and disappeared in the crowd, leaving Loki to his thoughts.

Once they were back in the compound, Loki went straight to (Y/N)’s room. This time he did not sneak into her room using magic; he knocked on her door. This wasn’t the moment to play a game of cat and mouse. If the entire compound was prying on him, he would gladly allow them to. Well, maybe not gladly.

“Hey! Hi, Loki!”

Her smile was as bright as ever.

Was it all in my mind then?

“Are you alright?” He tried to sound calm but his anxiety turned out to be more stubborn than him.

“Yes, I am. What- Come inside first.”

She stepped aside, allowing him to stride into her room, and flump down on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he began honestly, “I thought...I thought you were upset. At the club… I thought I saw you...sad? I’m not sure. I just had this feeling that you’re probably not okay, and-”

“Loki,” she held his shoulders and gently hushed him, “I’m fine.”

Her assurance enabled him to breathe normally again.

Caressing his face, she placed a light kiss on his forehead.

“Thank you, Loki! For everything. For caring so much about me.”

“(Y/N),” he held her hand, “are you hiding something? From me?”

He didn’t miss the way she gulped before replying.

“Why would you say that?”

“Look, I’m sorry if I cross the lines sometimes. I know I tease you but those are… I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable or have hurt you.”

“You are an idiot! Do you know that? You’ve never hurt me or made me uncomfortable. Now, get these stupid thoughts out of your little brain, and give me that devilishly charming smile of yours.”

Despite all her compliments, his eyes did not light up as they usually did.

“Are you sure?” He asked her.

“Absolutely!”

“You’ll tell me if you’re upset, won’t you? Promise me.”

He took note of how she licked her lips before nodding.

Something is not right.

“Come here,” he pulled her in his arms, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “And I’m not an idiot. I am smart.”

---------------

The next few weeks turned out to be more and more challenging as the team was now hell-bent on getting them exposed. What made them so sure of their relationship was still a mystery to the couple.

“Are we that obvious?” (Y/N) asked Loki one day.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “It is said that it shows on the faces of those in love. So, I guess...”

The words, coming from him, filled her with warmth. If that be true, and if everyone could see that they were in love only by looking at them, then she’d happily trade their secrecy for more obviousness.

But every time they came close to taking the relationship to the next level, she would find Loki backing away. Every time they had the opportunity to reveal their beautiful secret to the team, he would quickly shield both of them.

Why, Loki? Do you not want us?

---------------

It was a rainy evening when Tony had gathered everyone in the living room. At first (Y/N) thought that it was an urgent meeting for a new mission. But when she knew the actual reason behind it, she couldn’t prevent the snort that escaped her.

“Excuse me?” Tony pointed at her. “You got some problem, princess?”

“Truth or dare? Like, how old are we? Twelve?”

Tony spread his arms as if to silently make a point. “Since when did you start categorizing fun into ages? Ever since you started dating Rock of Ages?”

“Hey!” Loki made a tiny protest at his nickname.

“We are not dating,” (Y/N) deadpanned.

“And there goes my question,” Wanda sighed from across the room.

In response, (Y/N) simply rolled her eyes, and grumbled, “Kids!”

Once the game started, the team wasted no time in getting to the point: (Y/N) and Loki.

The first one to get attacked was Loki.

“No, no truth for you,” Sam chimed in just as Loki sucked in a breath to choose “truth”.

“He’s the God of Lies!” Sam announced, “He can easily slip away with any lie!”

“The bird’s got a point!” Tony agreed, followed by everyone else. “‘Dare’ for you!”

“This is not how it works,” Loki protested.

“Did you play this on Asgard? Thor?”

“No, we had never even heard of it until we came here,” the big brother responded.

“But-”

“Nah-ah!” Tony didn’t let him finish. “This is exactly how it is played. Who wants to give the God of Mischief a mischievous dare?”

(Y/N) wanted to protest; she wanted to tell Tony that he was bending the rules to get to them. But any word of support would further corner them both. All she could do was play along.

“Kiss (Y/N). And you know where I mean.”

Nat’s voice yanked her out of her thoughts. She watched in horror as Loki’s expressions changed from shock to anger while the entire team cheered.

“Nat!” (Y/N) jumped up from her seat, “do you even hear yourself? He’s my best friend! We can’t just...”

“Why not?” Sam questioned with a smirk. “You seemed to be enjoying it when I was asked to kiss Buck. He’s my best buddy.”

“Speak for yourself,” Bucky mumbled.

“C’mon, it’s just a game! Don’t be a spoilsport.”

Steve?? Et tu?

Rubbing her eyes, (Y/N) tried to find a way out of it. She knew well that if Loki kissed her, she’d melt into it. Everything would become obvious.

No, no, no!! This can’t be. They can’t just expose us like this. Loki would be so....

Wait, why isn’t he saying anything?

She opened her eyes to see Loki standing. His expression was unfathomable.

Oh no! Is he going to…

“This is outrageous!” Loki snapped and turned on his heels to walk out of the room.

Oh!

For reasons she did not want to explore then, (Y/N)’s heart dropped several feet. She was expecting a similar reaction from him but wasn’t hoping for it.

Quickly gravitating back to the situation in hand, she stammered an excuse or two for his behaviour, and followed his tracks to check on him.

Once both of them were out of earshot, Tony leaned towards the group, “Did we save it or kill it.”

“Looks like we killed it,” Sam sighed.

“Trust me,” Wanda smiled, “we saved it.”

“Vision? What do you think?”

“I still do not understand why you have to torment them like this. Let them come out when they want to. It’s-”

“Okay!” Tony interrupted him. “Sorry I asked! My bad!”

The door to Loki’s room was half open when (Y/N) arrived. Gingerly, she admitted herself inside.

Loki was standing at the window, with his back towards her. His head was bowed but his hands were curled into fists on both sides of his body.

“Loki?”

The name came out so softly that she couldn’t be sure if he had heard it, given that he did not move at all.

But before she could call him again, he spoke.

“I did not want this to happen,” his voice bore that particular kind of seriousness that usually preceded an unwanted or unhappy revelation.

What?

“I am sorry, (Y/N).” He turned towards her, and she realised in an instant that he wasn’t fooling around.

“What are you talking about, Loki? What did you not want to happen?”

Her chest felt tighter with every passing second.

Please, not what I’m fearing.

“This,” his hand vaguely gestured towards the hallway. “Whatever happened just now. I knew they would come down to this one day. I never wanted-”

“It’s okay,” she interjected. “I did not like that either. Although they meant no harm. It was just for fun… And I understand if you're having second thoughts. This entire thing between us was just something… y’know, a spur of the moment kind of thing. I totally understand if-"

"(Y/N)! Where is this coming from? What are you even talking about?"

She couldn’t make herself look at him, for if she did, he could clearly see the moisture pooling in her eyes. She needed to appear strong.

“Loki, you’ve always been my best friend. And I’ve loved that. You know it. And it’s okay if this new turn in our relationship does not turn out to be something that you had hoped for. It happens. It’s okay-”

“It’s not okay for me,” Loki grasped her hands. “What are you saying? Why? A-are you not happy with me? Have I done something wrong? Did I offend you in any way?”

What is he saying? I thought…

As she looked up at him, a couple of drops ran down her cheeks and on her shirt.

“(Y/N), please tell me. You had promised to tell me anything and everything that upsets you. So, tell me what happened. Why do you speak of our relationship as if it was a mistake?”

“It never was a mistake for me,” she breathed, “I thought you felt...I thought you...”

“What?”

The shaky way in which the question came out of him stung her more than any thought of Loki not wanting this relationship. It was then that she realised how badly she had hurt him.

He never wanted to leave! He always wanted me? Us?

She didn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “I thought that you...didn’t want...this. Us. I-”

“Why would you even think so? Why would you bear such thoughts when I love you with every fiber of my being?”

Her head snapped up.

“You love me?” Her own voice became shaky.

“Of course, I do,” he gently placed a hand on her cheek, “always have. At first I thought it was a love for friends until that night, when I realised that I wanted to be more than just friends with you.”

More tears fell down her cheek as she rejoiced in the moment. Loki wiped them all, and placed soft kisses on each cheek.

“And all this time, I was afraid that you’re having second thoughts,” she confessed.

“And why is that?”

“Because...”

How do I say that it’s because you haven’t kissed me yet? And ran away from the one moment we had today, albeit in a not-so-comfortable situation?

“Because I haven’t kissed you yet?” Loki asked her.

Her heart beat so violently, she could have sworn that Loki could hear it. Her tongue felt too heavy to speak.

“I didn’t think you were ready,” he admitted. “That is the reason why I did not dance with you in the club either. I was teasing you, yes, but when you responded I was definitely taken aback. I wasn’t sure if it was you or the ambience talking. So…

You have always shied away from any comments that I make, and...I did not want to push anything on you.”

“Oh, Loki!”

She hugged him so hard that even the Asgardian had to take two steps back to balance himself.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she wept into his shirt. “I misunderstood your actions for… I pushed you away. I thought you weren’t ready for this relationship. I’m sorry!”

Tears of both apology and relief flooded her. He tried to sush her as he rocked her slowly from side to side.

After taking a moment to compose herself, she stood straight. Loki looked at her red-eyed, tear-stained face and tutted.

“Doesn’t suit you, darling. Show me your crazy, grinning face.”

With a chuckle, she gave him a funny face-splitting smile, making both of them laugh.

“(Y/N), I didn’t want to kiss you because of a game or under the watchful eyes of that insufferable bunch of imbeciles. But if you will allow me now, I-”

“Just stop being so polite for a change, and kiss me,” she tugged at the collars of his shirt.

Loki didn’t need to be asked twice.

---------------

In the hall, the Avengers were busy speculating the outcome of their little plan, when the couple in discussion walked in. Hand in hand.

“Yes, we had changed our relationship status around six months ago,” (Y/N) announced to a stunned audience.

“And yes, we kissed. Just now. And I hope you know where I mean,” Loki added before dragging his love away towards the elevator.

“What was that?” She whispered as she was being whisked away.

“What?” Loki asked innocently, although his eyes stated otherwise.

“You didn’t need to declare that we just kissed!” She laughed as the doors of the elevator closed.

He shrugged while jabbing at a button. “They wanted us to kiss anyway. So, I gave them the satisfaction of knowledge. Besides, they need to know who you belong to now.”

“Aha! Possessive?”

“No! I also made it clear who I belong to now.”

He smiled as the doors opened to the hallway that led to his room. And once again, his words had rendered her speechless.

Silver tongue!

***

-----------------------------------------------

You can read the backstory here.

And here's a song to sing along and keep the mood floating...

youtube

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inkandpen22 · 3 years ago

Text

Dazed and Confused ( S1: 3/?)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild language and violence

Word Count: 3.1k

Part Summary: At Tina’s party, Y/N wants to forget all of her problems. Things take a turn when Billy makes a move on her, angering Steve

Masterlist

Arriving at Tina’s after dropping Dustin at Mike’s, I am in much need of some good old spiked punch. I yank down my gray oversized sweatshirt some more so that it hangs low off my shoulder. As I cross the threshold into the house, the heat of the crowded living room slaps me in the face. Directly to my left, the kitchen AKA the alcohol hub. I slip between bodies and end up at the counter covered with semi-empty bottles and old plastic cups. Most importantly, a bowl of maroon punch sits in the corner. I grab a cup and make my way over. A boy stands in front of it but I reach around him and scoop up some of the mystery substance.

“What’s in this?” I hear a voice holler behind me.

I turn around to answer but freeze when I realize it’s Nancy. She stares at me equally stunned. My face falls, this is awkward. Seriously universe? I couldn’t have at least one drink before bumping into her?

Steve appears behind her looking slick as ever in his black sunglasses and matching blazer.

“Everclear is my guess,” I answer, acting civil.

She nods timidly, “thanks…”

I step out of her way so she can get some of her own. Steve’s head travels up and down slowly with a blank expression. I can’t see his eyes but I assume he’s studying my costume. A gray oversized sweatshirt that hangs off the shoulder, red heels, matching earrings, and some shorts, though they’re unnoticeable. I can feel him starring me down through those stupid Ray-Bans. Silently, I beg for him to not bring up our encounter in the parking lot. All I wish for tonight is to drown out reality and try to forget. He’s a human ticking time bomb. The tension between us could be cut with a knife.

“Are you finally going to tell me what you are?” Nancy jumps in, forcing me to break my staring contest with her boyfriend.

I open my mouth to answer but Steve beats him to it.

“Flashdance,” he answers for me. “It’s one of her favorites.”

He acts distant, unattached, distracted by the party but I see right through it. There’s something he’s not saying. He says things like this as if it’s common knowledge. A random person wouldn’t describe my eyes as Y/E/C but gray depending on the lighting. One minute, he calls my eyes beautiful and the next he’s starring me down like a disapproving parent. The hell Harrington?!

Nancy gushes, apparently she and I are okay all of a sudden, despite early today with the whole Barb thing. Plus, I think she’s already been drinking for awhile so buzzed Nancy is fun Nancy.

“That’s so cute! You look hot!” She pulls me into a hug.

Over her shoulder, I glimpse up at Steve as he lifts his glasses to rest of his head. His brown eyes threaten to expose my upset from earlier. I get that he’s pissed about my neglect for my feelings. He wants to talk about what was wrong but right now we’re at a party and parties aren’t meant for depressing conversations.

“Let’s go dance!” Nancy suggests, already tugging me into the living room.

Steve calls after her but she ignores him. He follows behind us through the crowd with a groan. In the center of the living room, Nancy stops and turns to me with a bright grin. She cheers as she tosses her head back.

“Woohoo!” She laughs.

This is what I wanted, normalcy. We’re surrounded by our friends, drinking, dancing, being stupid! We did this before everything so why can’t we do it now? Perhaps after tonight, everything will fall back into place.

_______________________________________

On my third game of flip-cup, I’m beyond buzzed. In fact, when I walk I float. I’m on cloud nine. Here, this carefree and lively state is exactly where I wanted to be. Naturally, I’m competitive and amazing at drinking games so I finish my third game with yet another win. I cheer as Tommy from algebra hands me a cup of who knows what as my reward.

“Hey there beautiful,” a husky voice greets from behind me.

I spin around and kind of become dizzy from the action but catch myself.

It’s Billy.

“Hey hottie,” I smirk.

He snickers and closes the space between us to whisper in my ear. “How about you and I go somewhere a little more private?”

That’s a nice thought. He is cute. His ass could have its own zip code. Plus, he has no shirt on under that leather jacket, hello washboard like abs. His California tanned skin glistens under a thin layer of sweat. Damn, he’s a human Ken doll.

He’s no Steve though. Wait… what? I don’t think of Steve like that. Why would I think that? Um, yeah, that’s a no! Then again, Steve is always there for me. Sometimes it can be annoying how he’s always there. It means he cares but I don’t want to dump all of my drama on him. Then, he gets upset when I don’t open up. I hate it when I hurt him. I love him so much that when he’s in pain so am I.

“Okay,” I blurt out without truly thinking.

“Cool,” I hear him whisper as he takes my hand and starts pulling me toward the stairs across the room.

Wait, what? What am I doing? This isn’t me. I don’t like Billy. He treats Steve like shit. If anything I should kick his pretty ass. Though if I tried he’d probably murder me.

I glance down at his hand engulfing mine. It’s all rough and twice the size of my own. If we make it upstairs, it’ll be just him and I. I’ll be defenseless. I may be drunk but I’m not oblivious. My intuition is still working and it’s screaming for me to pull my shit together.

“Hey Billy? I don’t think…” I press my heels into the floor, slowing him down just as we reach the bottom of the stairs.

Aggressively, he whips around and purposefully towers over me to act intimidating. “What? Now, you’re saying no? Are you messing me? Playing with me!” He accuses.

I shake my head dramatically, “no! No, that’s not what-”

“Oh, so you still want to do this,” he presses.

Too impatient for an answer, he continues up the stairs. The grip he has on me has shifted up to my wrist. I attempt to tug myself free but fear dislocating it, his strength is too great. I stumble up the stairs behind me and I startle to feel dizzy. I think it’s safe to say I’ve had too much.

“No,” I whine, “I don’t want to! Stop! Please! I don’t want to! No!”

“Hey!” A booming voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs.

Rapid footsteps approach from behind me and a rush of relief consumes me when Steve appears beside me. He places a protective hand on my back.

“What the hell is going here?” He directs at Billy, taking note of his fist wrapped around my wrist.

“Nothing that concerns you, Harrington. Y/N and I were just heading upstairs.” He jolts his hand forward, causing me to traveling with it.

Steve instantly pries Billy’s hand from my body. Then, shoves him in the back, flying him forward to land with his ass on the stairs. “Don’t you ever touch her again! You hear me?!” He sneers. His face turns this deep red as he pants angrily.

The two start bickering but I can’t keep up. I see three Steves and a couple Billys shouting in each other’s faces. I lean against the railing unsteadily and slide down to sit on the steps. My eyes suddenly feel very heavy.

“I’m going to go to bed now,” I announce to no one in particular.

I decide to get some rest and shut my eyes. It’s okay, Steve’s here. He’ll protect me.

I’m not sure how much time has past when I hear Tommy and some of the other basketball boys come to break up the fight.

“Come on Y/N,” I hear Steve whisper to me, “let’s get you home.”

Feeling as light as a feather, I’m picked up like a sleepy child off the ground. For a moment, I fall asleep again. I rest my head on his chest and ponder the rare opportunity to sleep without being afraid of being eaten by a monster.

“Y/N?” I hear someone repeatedly call my name. “Y/N, wake up!”

I ease open my eyes and at first my vision is blurry but then they eventually adjust. Steve glances down at me as he we cross the threshold hold to the front yard.

“You smell like sunshine and all things exquisite,” I mumble to myself, adjusting myself in his arms to curl closer to his warmth.

“Even when hammered you still manage to be a walking thesaurus,” he teases.

Opps, he heard me. Oh well, I wasn’t lying. He smells like vanilla, the ocean, sugar, spice, and everything nice.

Goosebumps course over my skin as a brisk October breeze hits me. I shiver slightly and Steve holds me closer.

“We’re almost to my car. I’ll turn on the heat high. You’re okay,” he promises calmly.

Playing the hero, Steve places me into the passenger seat gently and straps me in. I toss my head to the side and rest my eyes again. He shuts the door for me before jogging to the driver’s side. The car drowns out the sound of chaos coming from the party and creates a sense of security. Steve slides behind the wheel and for some reason I choose now to act reasonable.

“Have you been drinking? If so, you shouldn’t drive,” I state like a health textbook.

He chuckles, popping in the keys. “I’m sober. Promise.”

“That’s nice. Good to know,” I yawn.

The last thing I can remember of the ride home is Steve turning on the car.

______________________________________

I wake up silently as Steve pulls up in front of my house. He’s unaware of my stare as he finishes parking and turning off the car.

“Hazel,” I tell him, announcing my woken state.

He looks to me with scrunched eyebrows, all confused. It’s cute when he does that. He’s cute. Geez, what the heck am I saying? He’s dating my best friend! Steve is Steve and Katherine, we don’t mix, at least that way.

“What?” He questions, turning to face me.

“Your eyes… they’re hazel…” I repeat softly with a yawn. “But, it really depends on the lighting.”

He snickers, and astonished expression blesses his features. The subtle blush forming on his cheeks makes me smile to see him all bashful because of my comment. He has no idea how gorgeous we truly is, inside and out. He glances down at his lap, at his hands fidgeting with a button on his jacket, then back up at me with hooded eyes.

“See, right now!” I point out, “they’re a dark brown like a burnt caramel, basically black. When you’re really focused on a task or upset about something, they go dark. Then, when you’re really happy or excited, they turn to a light hazel… like seaglass. It’s how I can tell if something’s bothering you. You don’t even have to tell me half the time. All I have to do is look into your eyes and I know,” I state a matter-of-factly with a light snicker.

I shift you see him directly and tuck a few strands of my hair away from my face. He watches my every move patiently, eagerly, for me to say something more, anything. I can’t speak for him but my heart won’t stop racing. Is it possible to have stage fright in a conversation? I feel like a mannequin, on display. Nervously, I twirl my hair at the ends and find myself unable to meet his gaze anymore.

“Your pupils are rarely small,” I add quietly. “They’re usually really big and take up most of your eye giving off the illusion they’re black. One thing that never changes is…” I make a circle with my finger in front of my eye to demonstrate, “is the gold rim around each of them.” I lower my hand into my lap and play with the end of my sweatshirt. “That’s my favorite part… ” I confess timidly.

I wouldn’t be saying these things if I were sober. I wish he would say something, anything. He must think I’m crazy. He finds me with Billy heading up stairs. I can only imagine what he must think of me now. Embarrassed beyond belief and sobering up, I excuse myself.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say as I unbuckle myself. “See you Monday!”

Swiftly, I climb out of the car. As I walk toward my front door, I curse myself for acting so stupid! Geez, what was I thinking? ‘The gold rim around each of them, that’s my favorite part!’ What kind of mushy, guhsy, marshmallow fluff is that? Ew! If he never spoke to me again I would judge that as completely reasonable! He has a girlfriend! He’s taken! Completely off limits! Why did I spew out this creepy nonsense to him like a total idiot? I’m not some lovesick teenage girl! I’m going to go to my room, put in some Guns N’ Roses, and just scream into my pillow all weekend! It sounds like an excellent plan to me because I just ruined my friendship with Steve forever! Add Nancy to that list because once he fills her in on what I said I’ll lose both of them!

“Y/N!” He calls after me.

I ignore it as I march faster toward the door. He’s only going to call me crazy because I was acting crazy!

“Y/N, wait!” He repeats as I hear him shut the car door and run toward me.

“Goodnight, Steve!” I urge him away without turning around.

His footsteps speed up until they come to a halt directly behind me. I reach for the door handle, my freedom. Desperately, he grips my forearm and steps in front of me, blocking the front door.

“Look, could you just slow down for a sec?” He yells at me as he pants to catch his breath.

“No! I can’t slow down! I just want to go inside, get in my pajamas, and forget tonight ever happened! Alright? Now, excuse me,” I gesture for him to get out of the way.

Reluctantly, paired with an overly dramatic eye roll, he steps aside. Despite wanting his to leave, I thank him quietly for cracking open the front door slowly, making sure not to wake anyone.

“Nance and I broke up…” Steve drops on me.

My heart leaps and I stop dead in my tracks. Unsure of what to do or say, I remain still in the doorway and wait for him to say more.

“She never loved me,” he explains with a heartbroken tone. “At least… I don’t think she did…”

Shit. Please don’t tell me that, Harrington. It only makes me want you more. He’s always so close but too far out of reach. I care about him more than anything but he’ll never mine. I’m just the friend.

I spin on my heels and offer him a sympathetic smile, “would you like to come in?”

He nods, clearly miserable. I step aside, allowing him in. After shutting the door behind us, I warn him to be quiet so we don’t wake my parents. He nods slowly and slips his hand into mine. Never breaking eye contact with me, he leads the way through the moonlit house toward my room. His platonic touch is so blissful, I can only imagine what it feels like otherwise.

_________________________________

Steve and I sit on my bed in our usual positions with my record player going quietly. He lounges like a patient in therapy and me, acting as his therapist, criss-cross beside him. He explains everything. He describes how drunk Nancy got and how he followed her to the bathroom. It was there they got into a fight. She admitted feeling guilty for the loss of Barb. Then, she called all of it bullshit. Us acting like carefree teenagers, never telling Barb’s parents the truth, her love for Steve, all of it is bullshit. He asked Jonathan to take her home and that’s when he stumbled upon me and Billy.

Watching Steve relive it all and hearing the pain in his voice breaks my heart. How could Nance do this to him? I get that she’s going through something, we all are. I’m by no means normal. I’m hiding everything for Pete’s sake! I haven’t been myself for over a year. Steve was just now becoming truly happy again! He was putting on a brave face for Nancy for so long! Now, she crushed it. She crushed him.

I reach and place my hand over his as they rest intertwined on his stomach. “I’m sorry. Truly, I am.”

“I really loved her. At least, I think I did. I don’t know anymore. I thought she loved me too.”

“I did too,” I tell him honestly.

He glances away from the ceiling down to me, “what can I do?”

I wish I knew the answer. I wish there was a way I could take away his pain. Yet, I have nothing. I shrug, “I’m not entirely sure. I think you should at least talk to her.

Tomorrow, of course, when she’s sobered up. Perhaps, she was just drunk and didn’t mean what she said. She wasn’t in the proper mindset.”

“So I shouldn’t take what she said to heart?”

“Well, there’s also the argument that drunk words are sober thoughts.”

“Does the same go for you?” He snickers.

I laugh, “sometimes.”

“So you don’t like the gold in my eyes? I thought it was your favorite part?” He smirks, turning to lay on his side and face me. My hand would’ve fallen off his hadn’t he flipped his over to catch it.

Ugh, he’s such a sneaky jerk! His cheeky smirk only grows with my silence. Warmth rushes to my cheeks as I bashfully hide my face.

“Yeah… about that…” I laugh nervously, “let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Should I forget that you also said I smell like sunshine and everything exquisite?” He adds to the torment.

I groan, tossing my head back. This must count as torture. “Preferably, yes,” I request shortly.

We share a laugh at my annoyed reaction. He’s impossible! Even he should be mopping he still manages to tease me!

A comfortable silence fills the air and I stare down at the pillow in my lap as I play with the lettering on it.

________________________________

Masterlist

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things image

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nirikeehan · 2 years ago

Note

HAP FRIDAY NIRI!! you know what I'm here for but can I get some Cullen & Laela Trevelyan + compelling voice, from the bad things happen bingo?

You asked for something hideous and that I can provide. I combined it with this prompt from @little--abyss:

Thank you for allowing me to develop Laela a bit and make up one of the powers that lyrium gives Templars. Yes, this set up is based on the idea that Templars can do some Jedi mind trick/Dune Bene-Gesserit fuckery with their voices. 🤷‍♀️

This may very well go in the next chapter of Temperance and Templars, an AU where Cullen has been hired by the Trevelyans to be Thalia's personal Templar.

For @dadrunkwriting and @badthingshappenbingo

WC: 1638

---

Movement out the window caught his eye. Cullen looked up from his parchment, the words to Knight-Commander Greagoir dying on his quill. He saw the flash of auburn, plaited and twisted into a knot atop her head, accompanied by the sweep of pale violet skirts.

Cullen shot to his feet. “For Maker’s sake!” She was headed for a thicket past the estate’s neat hedgerows.

He dashed into the corridor and thundered down the stairs to the second floor. Lady Thalia was not to leave the premises unattended — that much had been made clear when they had previously been summoned to Bann Trevelyan’s study. Cullen thought Thalia had understood, given the penitent look on her face. He’d hoped the arrangement had been sweetened by the fact that he had not told her father about the “blood magic” experiment he had interrupted a few nights prior. Apparently, it had all been another ruse. The girl’s whimsies were beginning to wear on him, and he’d barely been here a week.

Cullen reached the second floor. From the landing’s narrow window, he could see out to the edge of the back gardens. Thalia seemed to have vanished entirely. There was no way he could catch up with her now.

Sighing, Cullen entered the hallway leading to the Trevelyans’ sleeping quarters. Thalia’s door was locked, no surprise. Instead of finding a servant to get him a key, Cullen kept walking, hoping he could find one of her relatives. A parent or sibling ought to know her habits, at least.

To his relief, the door to her sister’s chambers stood open, and he saw a bit of her blue samite gown as she strolled about inside. Cullen strolled over the threshold, summoning his courtesies as he went. “Lady Laela, forgive the intrusion, but I’ve a matter of some urgency—”

A projectile came flying at his head. Cullen let out a yelp of surprise and ducked. A bright, sharp pain seared his face. He pressed a hand to his mouth and slowly straightened. His palm came away dripping with blood.

The scream made him look up. Laela rushed toward him, green eyes wide. “Ser Cullen, I didn’t see you there! Oh, good Andraste, you’re bleeding.”

She reached his side and wrapped her arms around his elbow. Cullen flinched. He disliked unannounced physical contact, and that it was from a lady of the house complicated matters further.

“It’s just a scratch,” he said, to reassure her, but when he opened his mouth, the coppery taste of blood filled it. Stunned, he returned the hand to his face. “All right, maybe it isn’t.”

“Come, come, have a seat right over here, ser. I’ll take a look at it.”

He let Lady Laela lead him over to a high-backed armchair. He sat down heavily, while she dashed to a nearby wash basin.

As he waited, Cullen looked around the room. “What— was that?” Not far from the door he’d entered, the wall was strewn with parchment, covered in charcoal sketches. The likenesses were not bad, he noted: busts of various men. More alarming was that so many of the portraits had been pierced with feathered fletching. “My lady,” Cullen said carefully, “what exactly is it you’re doing in here?”

Lady Laela returned with a damp cloth, a bowl of water, and a laugh. “You must forgive me, ser,” she said, pulling up another chair to sit opposite him. “You’ve caught me amidst target practice.”

“Target practice?” Cullen echoed, squinting at the sketches. Names accompanied the portraits: Lord Royce Thorleye, Bann Averill of Strudwicke, Comte Poncelet de Quint…

“Darts, you see.” Laela leaned forward, examining him. The veil pinned to her flaxen hair brushed against his shoulder. “Here, take this. Press it against the wound.”

Cullen took the damp cloth from her and used it to put pressure on his mouth. Gingerly, he used his tongue to probe the swelling above his lip, and at last began to understand. The dart’s blade must have grazed his face when he’d entered. Because of its size, he’d hardly seen the thing coming.

He removed the rag from his mouth and fixed Laela with a look he hoped seemed appropriately stern. “I hope I don’t have to tell you how dangerous it is to practice with weaponry indoors.”

Laela’s delicate brows furrowed with anger. “Yes, well, usually the servants know better than to interrupt me.”

Cullen swallowed. “My apologies,” he said mildly, returning the cloth to his face. Next time I’ll ask permission before being assaulted.

“You’ve learned, and that’s the important thing,” Laela said, all sweetness.

“The drawings are quite good.” Building a rapport might help him smooth over the slight. “Did you do them yourself?”

“I did,” Laela confirmed, beaming with pride.

“Are they real people? I confess I don’t recognize the names.”

Laela let out a dark chuckle. “Oh, they’re real, all right.”

Perhaps it was the shock of incurring the wound, but Cullen hadn’t quite considered the implications therein until now. Part of him wanted to laugh. “Not a fan, I take it?”

“You could say that.” Laela’s tone was neutral, offering him no insight. Before he could probe further, she took hold of the cloth and pulled it from his face. “Oh dear, the cut is quite deep, isn’t it? I fear you might need stitches. I must tell Father to summon the physician.”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Cullen said, mention of the Bann sobering him. What would the Trevelyan patriarch think to find his new hired Templar sitting around, injured by a wayward dart, while his mage daughter galavanted off who knew where? “Actually, Lady Laela, I’ve come to ask a favor. I’m looking for your sister. She knows she’s not supposed to leave the manor without me, but a few minutes ago I saw her on her own, wandering toward the edge of the property.”

Laela sighed. “Ah yes, classic Thalia. She often gave the last Templar the slip, as well.”

There it was again, mention of his predecessor. “I hope that’s not what led to the last Templar’s dismissal.”

Laela burst into peals of giggles. “Oh, no no no, don’t worry, Ser Cullen. It was far worse than that.”

What the hell does that mean? Cullen wanted to ask, but Laela was still speaking. “Father talks a big game, but Thalia is more or less free to do as she pleases. She’ll be all right.”

“Will she?” Cullen thought to tell her of Thalia’s aborted attempt at blood magic, but a glance at the gentlemen in the charcoal sketches made him think better of it. “I’d rather ascertain that for myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, I do mind,” Laela declared. “It would be silly for you to go running off after her in the state you’re in!”

She wrapped her hand around his wrist, and again Cullen jumped. Back in Kinloch Hold, he would have been wearing full plate mail, but the Trevelyans had thought the official Templar armor unseemly. Her palm was cool against his skin, and her face hovered closer to his once more. Her narrow nose had a crooked angle in it, he noticed. It threw off the symmetry of her face, made it garish somehow. Unsightly.

Cullen took a breath and slid his hand out of her grasp. “I can only assure you I’m fine,” he said, voice hardening. “I’d hoped you would be able to help me locate Lady Thalia, but if that’s untrue, I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

Laela sighed. “Stubborn, aren’t you?”

“I’d prefer the term ‘dedicated.’” Cullen took the opportunity to stand. “To my job, you see.”

“And you never tire of the Templar life, Ser Cullen?” Laela stayed in her seat, but leaned back and gazed up at him coyly, the hint of a smirk tugging one side of her mouth. “It must be so stifling. All those vows to take, rules to follow.” She slipped one leg over the chair’s armrest, revealing a pale stretch of skin from beneath her skirt.

Cullen stared at her. Maker’s breath, is she attempting to seduce me? He recalled Thalia’s words the night they met, that Laela was on the prowl for a husband, but Cullen had not known how much stock to put in the girl’s words.

“It isn’t,” Cullen said flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

He turned for the exit, eager to put as much space between them as possible. A light rustling of samite followed, and Laela was at his side once more. She wrapped her arm around his elbow, smile dazzling bright. “Ser Cullen, I—”

“Unhand me at once,” Cullen commanded, and the very air warped with the sound of his voice.

Laela’s face went unnaturally slack. She dropped his arm as if it were burning her. Cullen wrenched away, breathing heavily. He felt dizzy, though from the encounter itself or his use of the Voice he couldn’t be sure. He held onto the doorframe and tried to catch his breath.

Laela blinked blankly for a few seconds, then started to come out of her stupor. “I don’t… what happened? What did you do?”

A sense of shame overcame him. As Templar abilities went, he’d never favored the Voice — partially because of its difficulty to master, and partially because of the ethics involved. He would much rather mages respond to a Templar’s wishes of their own volition. In all but the most volatile cases, it diffused the confrontation more effectively than forcibly bending mages’ bodies to the Templar’s will. And it went without saying one should never use it on a non-mage, as Cullen had apparently just done. That alone was grounds for dismissal.

“Forgive me,” he said, horrified. “I’ve got to go.”

Cullen stumbled from the room, leaving a befuddled Laela frozen in his wake.

#cullen rutherford #laela trevelyan #temperance and templars au #bad things happen bingo #dragon age drunk writing circle #fics

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stardusthhj · 4 years ago

Text

We fell in love where the sun never rose - 01

TW: mention of death, weapons, bruises. Reader’s discretion advised.

Genre: mafia au. Gang au. Revenge au.

WC: 2,3k

Wrath is a feeling that could push anyone to extents they didn't think they could go to. And wrath is what pushed you in front of the black door, adorned by mildew and brownish cracks. You half expected a prestigious mansion. But after a second thought it was all the more logical that underground businesses were hiding- taking place underground. You softly chuckled at your own stupidity. The man next to you stretched his hand towards the door - or what was left of it- motioning you to push it open. You looked at him as his black hair fell to his eyes. His locks were thick and long, his hairstyle very trendy -just like the rest of him actually. He had the kind of face that would let anyone struck in awe. It would have affected you as well, hadn’t you be blinded long ago by everything you now longed for. By the sheer reason for which you stood before the door next to Hyunjin. His playful smirk wouldn't leave his lips. You observed him for a long time before and never had you seen his lips falling down. Whatever this smile was hiding it was probably more pain than a human could take.

You focused your attention back on the door, pushing it open. The light was flickering inside, as a long dark corridor took pride of place. You side-eyed Hyunjin, waiting for his signal. He walked in first, walking straight. As you crossed the seemingly never-ending corridor, you couldn't help your eyes from wandering to the countless doors on each side of the corridor. The air was heavy, or maybe was it your steps which finally came to a halt when Hyunjin stopped in front of a giantic door. It was none like the others, adourned in brown and gold. The door was beautifully decorated, like in the many novels you read about arabian architecture, with all the arabesque and gems. But something, right in the center of the door, took pride of place. The head of a lion, which paws were clunched. Its mouth hang open showing countless teeth, through which a red gem could be seen. Whoever carved this majestic animal in the door was insanely talented. "Are you going to stare at the door for more time? Because last time I checked you came all this way to become part of the gang." The sickening sweet voice drew you out of your thoughts. You shook your head ever so slightly, finally looking at him, waiting for the moment he’d push the door. Surprisingly he bent forward until his breath caressed your right cheek in a way that would make anyone blush. "I am not going to do it for you, dear. Push the door or run away, but be quick." You could hear his smile growing at the end of his sentence, voice dripping with honey. You exhaled, trying to get back your composure. You sighed one more time - maybe you were standing before Death. But you decided to keep Her close the day you decided to get your Revenge. You worked too hard for cowarding away now. And at that, the door flew open, letting the inside of the room be seen. Two luxurious brown couch were face to face, a small glass table in the middle. Under it was a white rug, hiding for some centimeters the marble floor. To your left could be seen a vase adorned by pristine drawings. Beyond the apparent living room, an open kitchen could be seen. It was all white, from the tiles on the wall to the furniture, next to which was a door. A black one. Very simplist given the room it was in. On the right side of the giant room a staircase could be seen. As pristine as the other items in the room. Not so idiot, after all, you thought. Hyunjin put his hand on your right shoulder, envelopping you, though his arm didn't touch your left shoulder. "Someone's eyes are constantly astray, it seems. The person you're looking for is that way." He said, his demeanor never-changing. He led you to the black door, the one behind which your future would be sealed. You knew the second your eyes wandered on it, that beyound it took place the most macabre ambiance. You understood by now, that whatever doors you crossed were the doors to your future, and that Hyunjin would let you open them yourself. He didn't want to seal your future, you were foolish enough to do so yourself. And so did you. You opened the black entrance, standing in the threshold of what seemed a normal study. You scanned the room, eyes narrowing. Book shelves were on each side of the walls. In front of the door was a brown desk on which messy papers were scattered. Behind the study was a window, letting enter little to no amount of light. Seated behind the desk was the black haired man with which you would probably trade your life for your goal. He eyed you intensely before motioning you to sit on the chair in front of his desk. You slowly walked, not even paying attention to Hyunjin leaving the room behind you. You sat, now seeing the man from very close. The first thing you noticed was his eyes. They were glassy. Not in the sense of looking teary, no. Glassy like glass. Thick, white, void. Almost as if a veil was drawn before his pupils. He seemed so cold, so cruel. "So?" he said, his voice not as rough as you expected it to be. You found yourself wordless. How? You prepared for this moment for at least six months. You knew what you had to

say, yet you couldn't bring yourself to say these words now. Were they too cruel? But to whom exactly? "I have a goal. I came here to accomplish it." you managed to say , surprised at your voice which didn't betray any of your feelings. You mentally gave yourself a head pat. "Revenge, am I wrong?" You looked up to him, astonished. Your reaction amused him, and he chuckled softly. "Do you think you are the only person that ever crossed my door asking for revenge? Let me tell you something; every Stray Kids member first joined to get revenge. Even the leader himself." He smirked in an arrogant way. "If you want your revenge, prove me your worth. Let me allow it to you."

"I do not intend on telling you the story of my life." you said, harsher than you intended.

"Cold eyes, cold words, cold demeanor. I never expected you to narrate me your little story. I don't really care about it. I only need you to prove me with actions. You know what we say? Actions speak louder than words." He said, adding a wink at his last word. "But before you do anything, you'll receive a little training. Just so that you don't die." He leaned over, both elbows on the table and his head supporting his head. He starred at you for a little before shouting "Rhino". A boy with brown hair immediately appeared. The place was huge, how did he hear him and came so fast? You wondered. Was he ready all this time being? You eyed the man as he stood before you. His eyes were very pretty, and unlike the two other men, alive. His pupils were black, feathered with long eyelashes. His nose was long and sharp, and his upper lip was a bit bigger than his lower. He looked pretty, just like the two other men you met. His gaze fell on you and you found it hard to breathe. His eyes were surely alive, but they sent daggers through your whole being. He made it clear in one gaze that he was less than happy with your prensence.

"There's no going back, now" Said the man with glassy eyes.

The first steps you took were hesitant. You felt like being entirely swallowed up in the giant training room. Weapons were organized on shelves; guns, knives, and some wood-looking swords. You wondered why swords were present in the first place. On the ground were discarded thick rugs which you remembered using in high school. You didn’t notice your mouth was so wide open until the brown haired man next to you mentioned it. You looked at your feet, embarrassed. Now is not the time to be embarrassed! You thought. The man -Rhino, if you remembered it well- stepped first. He climbed up the rugs, heading towards the wooden swords.

“We’ll start with this. It’s convenient; you’ll learn how to many something else than a gun. Plus you won’t hurt yourself.” The first words he spoke to you were void of any feelings, just like his eyes were. But it didn’t matter; you weren’t here for acquaintances but to get to your goal. You stepped on the rugs as well, taking one of the wooden weapon he lent you. It was surprisingly heavier than it seemed. And so was his gaze. He was judging you, evaluating you through your very movements. It made you nervous to the point you wondered if he could read in your breath. “Revenge” he said, “did a relative got murdered by a gang?” You stiffened. How could someone be so insensitive? You chose to hold his gaze, frowning. Well, if he can read you so well, he should be able to read your anger. “It has nothing to do with you. You are supposed to train me, not talk to me.” You spat, venom dripping from your words. If he didn’t mind hurting others, he might as well not mind being hurt himself.

The right part of his upper lip lifted in what you supposed would be the closer of a smile you’ll ever see on him. “Sure. Be it. But then don’t expect me to tell you your wrongdoings. Find out by yourself.” His tone had nothing to do with the so called smile. He was mad. Mad at you. “So big boy likes to hurt others but can’t stand a simple remark? Is the poor boy hurt?” You feigned concern as you leaned closer to his heart, pretending to listen to his heartbeats. In a second, your back encountered the rug in a way that would sure bruise you. When you opened your eyes, a growl escaping your lips, he was right on top of you, his eyebrows closer than possible. His face was mere centimeters away, his breath fanning your own. Now that he was so close, you could see his eyes well. They weren’t black, they were dark brown, with some yellow and red tint here and there. “You surely like to talk back. In a real fight, you’d already be dead. Talk less, act more.” He said before standing up, straightening his white shirt in the process. You were speechless. All this time you thought you were at least good at fighting. You stood up yourself, your back hurting more than it should have. Damn it, you mentally cursed.

Rhino looked at you over his shoulder “get up, we have a long way to go.”

Weeks passed and the least you could say was that you significantly improved. You also noticed a slight change in Rhino’s demeanor. He would from times to times bring water bottles, and sometimes would even patch the handle of the sword you were used to many. You figured out it was his way of caring. Through very small things. And it was fine by you. Even if the only words you would exchange with him were about work. He even taught you a handful of laws, such as always protecting the leader, not doing anything that would put the whole gang in danger, sacrificing yourself for the well-being of the gang… all these rules you couldn’t care less about. For you would not give up on your life and your goal for a bunch of men you did not even know. It had been weeks, yet the only persons you ever encountered where Hyunjin and Rhino. You wondered where the others were. But it didn’t matter, you had to get ready to the day of the test. The rest was a mere concern for you.

Resting on the small bed of the room you were assigned to, you mentally replayed your last training session with Rhino. The way he held his gun, the way he effortlessly never missed any target. You wanted to be as good as him. No. You wanted to be better. A knock on your door drew you out of your thoughts. You opened it, revealing the brown-haired man you were so accustomed to. “Chan told me to inform you; tomorrow you are going on a mission with us. It’s as simple as handling a drug deal. There’s really not much to do, but have this.” He put in your hands a bulletproof vest. “Am I allowed to…” “As long as he doesn’t find out it’s fine. Wear it under your clothes. Wouldn’t it be a shame if you died before you’d even join?” He cut you off. You frowned. Why would Chan ask you to come help in a mission when you didn’t have enough training? Why would Rhino give you a bulletproof vest? It just didn’t make sense. You politely thanked him, sending him away. You slumped back on your bed, eyes fixed on the white ceiling. They really thought you were dumb. Soon enough, you were going to pass the test you prepared hard for. The exam they disguised as a mission. You thought about it for a long time. It was most likely they would test you on your loyalty, ability to apply the rules Rhino taught you and on the way you can use weapons. You clenched you fists, sitting on the edge of the bed. Whatever it would cost, you were going to pass the test. Not because you wanted to be part of Stray Kids, but because you needed to. It was your only way to get to your revenge. And your revenge was your it. It came before anyone’s life. Including your own.

#skz #skz angst #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz high school au #skz au #skz mafia #skz mafia au #stray kids mafia #hyunjin series #hyunjin angst #hyunjin au #hyunjin #bang chan #bangchan scenario #minho imagines #shade of evil

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chantillyxlacey · 4 years ago

Text

Mystery March #1: Heal

My entry for prompt/day one of Mystery March. A few little tidbits from the Peppers’ first months with Lewis.

If you’ve been following me for awhile or my old Arthur blog, you’ll probably recognize the second vignette-- I’ve written that event before, but from Arthur’s POV instead of Mrs. Pepper’s!

Please enjoy :>

Belle was screaming in the living room. Not screams of terror or of pain-- the screams of someone who had recently decided that there was a kind of simple, primal joy to be found in just screaming sometimes, that ought to be tapped into as often as possible. Lucinda Pepper was used to it, if still looking forward to the day Belle grew tired of this particular diversion, but she was concerned that their new little guest would find it alarming.

Sure enough, she found Lewis looking like a deer in the headlights where he sat on the couch, fighting a losing battle to keep perfectly still and avoid flinching as Belle hollered an aria almost directly into his ear and attempted to use him as a jungle gym. Lucinda swept in to rescue him-- or at least she moved as quickly as she could with the ponderous weight of her next little troublemaker slowing her down.

She plucked Belle from his shoulders and settled her in the crook of her arm with practiced ease. “You’ve got to be gentle with Lewis, my love,” she chided, as gently as she advised. “We want him to get better, and he can’t do that if you play so rough.” Belle patted both hands against Lucinda’s collarbone and said something in the private language of toddlers. “I think we can consider that an apology. You mustn't let her bully you like that,” Lucinda smiled down at Lewis. He blinked dolefully back up at her.

Lucinda sighed and carefully lowered herself to sit beside him, shifting Belle over the mountain of her belly to rest in her other arm. She pressed the back of her newly freed hand softly against the side of Lewis’ face, careful to avoid the plum colored bruise over his cheekbone. “You’re alright, hon? She didn’t hurt you?”

“Estoy bien,” Lewis murmured, almost too quiet to hear over the incomprehensible anecdote Belle was attempting to relay. Lucinda shifted to stroke his hair.

“¿Seguro?” she pressed, and sighed again, fondly, when he nodded with grave earnestness. “Please tell me if you’re hurting, okay Lewis?” she continued, still in Spanish. “Tell me if you need anything for pain or if there’s anything else I can do to help.” Lewis nodded again, as seriously as before, and thought for a moment.

“Can you put on a video, please? Sailor Moon?” His voice was soft and halting.

“I think I can do that for you,” Lucinda smiled, ruffling his hair. “In fact, I was just making lunch-- why don’t I finish that real quick and bring our food and Belle’s high chair in here, and we can all sit and watch together. How does that sound, my sweet?”

Lewis nodded again, silent and stoic as ever but, as Lucinda was pleased to note, far less somber.

Xxx

“Have you seen Lewis anywhere, mi amor?” Lucinda popped her head into the living room, where her husband was deliberately losing a wrestling match with a very loudly delighted Belle in the middle of the rug.

“Not since--” Eun started, then yelped. “Ow! Belle, please, Appa is trying to talk-- Not since I got her up from her nap. He was in his room last I looked, but he might be out back. I told him it was such a nice day that he should go out and play if he wanted to.”

“I checked the yard already,” Lucinda said, and felt a crease of worry fold into being between her brows.

“Have you tried out front? He might be hoping to spot that cat from yesterday again.”

“I’ll look,” she said. “And I’ll take him to the back. Even as careful as he always is I’d still rather he play away from the street.”

Sure enough, in front of the restaurant is where she found Lewis, but he wasn’t playing or searching for kittens-- he was sweeping. Or at least trying to. His hands were already healing up nicely, but they were still wrapped up fairly extensively in bandages, and holding the broom was clearly a struggle for him. He looked up at the sound of the bell over the door as she came through, his expression as guilty as if he’d been caught sneaking sweets rather than chores. Lucinda shook her head and folded her arms over her belly, torn between being touched, exasperated, and concerned.

“Lewis, your hands are never going to heal this way,” she said.

“Papa said-- he meant to sweep out front all morning, but he was so busy with Belle. I wanted to help.” He said it so earnestly that Lucinda couldn’t help her heart just about melting. Carefully, laboriously, she lowered herself to kneel beside him and match his height, patting his head in the way she’d come to realize he enjoyed.

“You are such a sweet boy, Lewis,” she said. “But right now all we need you to do is get well, alright mijo?” He nodded, his expression serious, but when she ruffled his hair he finally smiled-- tiny and timid, but less and less rare and always so charming.

The bell tingled again, and the next few moments Lucinda processed in snapshots: Belle’s tiny, beaming face as she slipped out of the door, Eun’s look of panic as he tripped over the threshold to land in a sprawl on the sidewalk, Lewis’ expression of quiet determination as he took off after Belle as fast as he could on his still injured leg while she and Eun struggled to help each other back to their feet. It wasn’t near fast enough, however, and she handily outsped him.

She didn’t make it far, however. She ran right into the arms of two children that Lucinda recognized vaguely from around town, who reached out and caught her in sync as though they’d practiced it. They handed her back to Lewis, and when Lucinda had caught up to him the little girl in blue was already making gregarious introductions. To her surprise and delight, she spotted a small, shy smile on Lewis’ face.

Xxx

Lucinda was just tucking her hospital gown closed after giving Cayenne her very first meal when she caught the soft knock on the door. As soon as she gave the okay Eun slipped quietly inside, ushering a faintly teary eyed Lewis ahead of him.

Lewis had apparently been inconsolable for the babysitter who was still back at home watching over Belle while she slept. He’d been remarkably calm after her water broke and she’d told him to fetch Eun and tell him his baby sister was on the way, but the moment he’d heard them talk about taking her to the hospital he’d begun crying, terrified out of his mind with worry over Lucinda’s wellbeing and the baby’s. According to the sitter, he’d wept on and off from the moment they’d left until the moment Eun had returned to tell him that Lucinda and Cayenne were both perfectly fine and eager to see him.

Eun led Lewis to Lucinda’s bedside, and she was happy to note that the only unsteadiness in his steps seemed to come from nerves-- his limp was entirely gone. He twisted his small, newly unbandaged hands around and around each other as Eun pressed a kiss to her forehead, eyes locked on the wrinkled pink face and tiny fists poking out of the bundle of blankets in Lucinda’s arms.

“Can I hold her?” Lewis murmured, and looked shocked that he’d done it.

“Of course you can, mijo,” Lucinda smiled at him. “Come here and sit next to me.” Lewis shuffled his feet.

“Are you sure…?” he murmured. “I don’t want-- I don’t want to drop her…”

“I know, my love-- but your hands are all better now. You won’t drop her.” She shifted her grip to free one hand and pat a spot on the bed beside her. “But I’ll help you hold her up, if you’re worried.” Lewis took another moment to think, then nodded. Lucinda scooted herself over to give him more room while Eun helped him climb up and arranged his arms to receive Cayenne as Lucinda eased her into his hold.

Lewis and the baby goggled at one another-- him looking awestruck, her almost seeming to size him up with a remarkable amount of shrewdness for an infant.

“Hi,” Lewis whispered. Cayenne blinked at him. “I’m your big brother. I’m-- I’m going to be the best brother in the world, for you,” he said, still quietly but with absolute, devoted conviction. He glanced over at Lucinda. “Can I have this arm?” he asked, wiggling the elbow that held up Cayenne’s lower half. She slid her arm under her daughter’s legs to allow Lewis to free his hand.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he offered his pointer finger for Cayenne to expect. Equally slowly, but with more of an air of gravitas than of caution, Cayenne wrapped her minuscule hand around it, gripping tight. Lewis did something they’d never seen from him before:

He beamed.

Lewis was much more cheerful now in general, a far cry from the perpetually frightened and solemn boy they’d found on their doorstep all those months ago, especially now that he had his new friends Arthur and Vivi. But even though his smiles were more ready they were still always quite shy and reserved. Not now, however-- now his grin stretched nearly from ear to ear unrestrained, his eyes almost dizzyingly alight.

“The best in the world,” he murmured again. Lucinda didn’t doubt it for a moment.

#MysteryMarch2021 #Mystery Skulls #Mystery Skulls Animated #MSA #Lewis Pepper #Mrs. Pepper #Mr. Pepper #Peck of Pickeled Peppers #lacey writes #ms fic #Mystery March 2021 Day 1

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 5 years ago

Text

Addicted to You

Part III: Renegade

Summary/Author's Notes: Frankie (and the rest of the boys) goes and gets his girl back. I won't say anything else because I know y'all have been waiting.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings/Rating: R/18+ once again STRONG kidnapping elements, restraint, violence, death, murder, blood, language, PTSD, hurt/comfort

Gif by @hvitserkk

MASTERLIST

Part I Part II

Apparently this hell hole of a jungle insisted on being true to its word. Ever since they had left the bar it had been pouring down rain. Large torrents of water cascaded from the dark sky like the dump bucket at the local water park crashing down on a bunch of screaming kids. Unsurprisingly, Frankie had not slept at all. He tossed and turned on his cot in their hostel, spending the majority of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Benny snore, and thinking about you.

A few times he gave up his restless dance and got up to crack the window and light a cigarette. Pope was already up as well, unable to rest for the same reasons Frankie couldn't, and he held out a smoke and a lighter to him in silence.

"Thanks," Frankie said, quietly and Pope nodded. The two of them didn't speak. What was there to say? He offered his presence and a cigarette as an apology and Frankie took it. That's just how they had always operated, with an unspoken language of knowing that even if they were pissed at each other, there was no one else they would rather have watching their six.

The watch on Pope's wrist beeped quietly and he pressed the button, nodding to Frankie that it was time to head out. Frankie returned the gesture, taking another long drag of his smoke as Pope started to wake the others. He stared up at the dark sky and wished there was some way to tell you that he was coming for you. Whatever was happening, whatever state you were in, just hold out a little longer.

The thickness of the canopy of leaves on Lorea's property helped with the rain. The large drops pat on the trees with soft thuds as the men took up their positions from yesterday and started in towards the mansion. Only this time, each of them was geared up, locked and loaded. Frankie was careful of his steps not because of noise this time, but because of the mud. The sheer amount of water that the forest floor had received overnight had flooded every tiny creek bed, and eroded enough earth that even the smallest hill was just an avalanche of silt. His shirt was already stuck to his body, protected only by his Kevlar and the pack slung over his back.

Pope turned his hat around backwards as he took up his sniping position on the hill and looked through his scope. Frankie moved quietly through the trees towards the gate and Will flanked him, each lowering their guns to start snipping the chain link fence with their bolt cutters. Benny mirrored Pope's sniper stance from the East side and kept a careful eye poised on the two men below working on the gate.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing they're so devout," Benny said flatly through the com piece. "My dad used to say when it's raining, that means god didn't need us in church today."

Will chuckled and shook his head, finishing up clipping the fence and putting the bolt cutters back in his backpack. "Yeah, he also said you go to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company."

"Actually I think Mark twain said that, shithead." His brother retorted as he adjusted his scope and checked on Frankie's progress with the fence.

"Alright, keep the radio clear. Stay awake and look alive." Tom's voice came through everyone's ears, his obviously irritated tone making Frankie roll his eyes. "How many is that, getting in, Fish? Count it."

Frankie looked up as he finished cutting and watched the family pile in the car adorned in their Sunday best and umbrellas. "Seven getting in the van," he answered Tom.

"Anybody see Lorea?" Pope asked.

"Negative. Never saw him come out." Will walked carefully back to his spot perpendicular to the road that led out of the fortress. He ducked behind a tree as the cars drove passed him down the gravel road. "Wife and two kids are with a single driver--the family has left the building. We're clear."

They all waited in silence as the family vans disappeared and another unmarked, black car rounded the corner in their place. Pope's informant had been true to her word and was here to deliver the day's round of Lorea's money like she didn't know that he was about to be robbed blind. The gates opened slowly and she drove right through. She had a beat up four door hitched to the van so she could drive away and leave them the extra van, just like Pope had asked.

"Damn Pope, your girlfriend is a keeper. She got us that second van." Benny said, looking through his scope and adjusting the settings. "Punctual, smart, and brave as shit--just how you like 'em."

Pope ignored his quip about the informant and asked, "Has anyone seen any sign of (Y/N)?"

"Negative." Frankie said flatly, squeezing the com button clipped to the inside of his shirt. His eyes diligently searched each window of the upper floor, desperate for even the smallest sign that you were inside and alive. But he saw nothing.

"Informant is in," Benny cut through the silence. "Making the handoff now."

"Here we go," Tom raised up off of his knees and started to move. "Ben, you're first hit. With this rain the guards are gonna be inside. Watch your angles--silence is key."

"Roger."

Will and Frankie started walking toward the back of the mansion, matching each other's strides as they let Pope take point in front of them through the tall grasses. Each man had their semi-automatic rifle level with their eyes, balanced against their chest as they strained their ears and vision to see anything in this fucking rain. Frankie ducked his head under the family's clothes line as they entered the backyard and waited for Pope to give them a hand signal.

To an outsider, this would have looked like any normal family's patio. A children's sized soccer goal and a few balls were off to the side, a grill and a white iron table and chairs sat waiting for summer time barbeques. And only a prick like Lorea would subject his family to his dealings out here in the middle of nowhere. Frankie hoped with everything he had that the man in question was inside, because he couldn't wait to get his hands on him.

"Steady." Pope said over the com and motioned that he was going in the side patio door, and that the other two should go in through the double doors.

"Alright," Will nodded, looking at Frankie and motioning him to take the lead. "We're going in."

The house was dark. Will checked the windows but it didn't offer much insight before they crossed the threshold. Most of the glass had been covered with newspaper, bleached from the sun and offering little to help with what he could only imagine was Lorea's paranoia. A lot of the furniture was covered in sheets and protective cloth like they had just moved in or were getting ready to move out--either way, it wasn't very homey.

Pope nodded as he crossed paths with the two of them from the side door, taking note of the guard watching soccer in the living room at such a volume that suggested he was absolutely hard of hearing. But that sure made sneaking passed him easier.

Will and Frankie headed to the kitchen. The fridge door was open and a faceless man was rifling through the contents. Frankie let Will take point, keeping his gun raised as the blond slung his over his shoulder and waited for the guard to shut the fridge. As soon as he did, he was on him with a swift punch to the face. Will twisted the man around and wrapped his bicep around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold, squeezing tighter as the man struggled, ultimately falling unconscious and sliding to the floor.

Frankie white knuckled his gun as he saw that it was the smaller guard from the day before--the one who had called you merchandise. He hesitated, but shook it off as Will tossed him a zip tie and they secured the man's wrists and ankles before stowing him on the other side of the counter.

"Front gate secured," Benny said over the com from outside the house.

"One guard secured in the kitchen," Frankie answered as they crossed back into the foyer.

"Ben come to the house," Tom ordered from his place on the rooftop balcony

"Copy that."

Will followed Frankie into the next room as they looked across the foyer at Pope. The guard who had previously been watching his ridiculously loud television was nowhere to be seen. Benny's shadow appeared in front of the frosted glass of the French double doors and Pope held up a fist that he hoped he would be able to see.

"I'm at the front door."

"Hold Benny, hold," Pope responded, keeping his fist raised.

"Threat in the TV room is gone," Frankie said, keeping his voice calm and factual, letting Benny know the reason he was continuing to stand in the rain.

All three men looked up as the missing guard came down the staircase. Frankie's eyes narrowed as he realized who the guard in question was. He remembered the clear image of his disgusting hands over your mouth, hurting you, restraining you, and ultimately striking you--bitch. muzzle. cunt. His heart hammered in his chest and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he did the only thing he could think of. With an echo through the high ceiling entryway, he squeezed the trigger and fired, hitting the bald guard in the kneecap and sending him to the ground with a thud and a yell.

"What's going on in there??" Benny said over the com and Pope lowered his fist.

"All clear Benny. Eyes out for Lorea--"

"Well, he sure as fuck heard us now!" Will growled, dropping to his knee and pulling the zip ties and electrical tape from his pack. He spared a glare at Frankie as he got to work but Frankie felt no remorse. If he didn't need to find you, he would have shot the bastard a second time.

Will wrapped the black tape around the guys mouth to muffle his painful screams as Frankie pulled the zip tie tightly around his ankles--perhaps a little tighter than was necessary. The three of them looked up as Benny came in the front door and Pope pointed to the open utility closet at the left of the stairs.

"Set the charges for the security room. I want those cameras offline now! It's just Lorea and I do not want him to know our positions." Pope took a couple of stairs up and raised his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looked around the corner.

"What was the fuck was that? Who shot first?" Tom hissed through the com and they looked at Frankie.

"We had to shoot the third guard in the leg." Ben answered as he started pulling wires out of the cameras and lining the inside with a small amount of explosive, wetting his fingers with his tongue. "Taking him to the kitchen as we speak." He looked pointedly at Will and Frankie. It made Frankie realize that, unlike Tom, none of them would blame him for the shot, but they had to stay focused and keep moving.

They picked up the still grunting and thrashing guard and carried him into the other room and Benny turned his head and said with a grin, "Fire in the hole."

The camera system fuse sparked and popped like a line of firecrackers and all at once every camera in the compound went dark.

The rest of them let Frankie and Pope take the lead as they walked up the stairs. Both men shoulder to shoulder as they aimed down the sight of their guns and looked in each open door that led to a room, hoping that you would be there. With each empty room Frankie's heart beat harder. He found it more difficult to breathe every time he swept the area and you weren't there. Sweat dripped off his brow, both from the humidity in the house and the fear of the possibility that you were no longer in the house at all.

The two of them came to the last closed doors in the hallway and they looked at each other.

"You take right, I'll take left?" Pope offered and Frankie nodded wordlessly.

"I got your six," Will said behind them both as Tom and Benny moved to take the double doors that led to Lorea's office.

Frankie tried to calm his hands as he took one off of his gun to open the door. The room was dark and cluttered, a nice set of bay windows being the only light as rain pounded against the glass. Frankie swept the room slowly, using the barrel of his rifle as a guide for his eyes as they adjusted to the low light. He lowered his gun slowly as he laid eyes on you, for even in shadows he knew it had to be you.

"(Y/n).." he breathed out, dropping his rifle and backpack to the floor with a thud. Nothing in the house mattered anymore, not Lorea, not the Narcos money--even if Will wasn't watching his back, he would have dropped everything he was carrying to get to you faster.

You had heard footsteps and a gunshot long before Frankie hit the door. Not that any of the warning sounds mattered because you were basically a sitting duck, and you had been for almost twenty-four hours. Time was irrelevant though as the blindfold around your eyes made everything dark at all hours of the day. As the footsteps got closer you clenched your fists and pulled against the zip ties that held you against the straight back chair. A whimper fell around the gag that was biting into your cheeks and as a hand touched each of your arms, you let out a muffled scream.

The sound alone felt like someone was ripping Frankie's heart out with his own hunting knife. He released you like you had burned him and quickly went for your blindfold first so you could see it was him, not Lorea, not his thugs...him.

"(Y/n)! Baby, stop--it's me, it's me!" He raised his voice to be heard over your fear and you froze.

Blinking slowly, your eyes adjusted to the light as he came into focus in front of you. Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie Morales was squatting in front of you, looking up at your face with a mixture of elation and worry.

His large but gentle hands reached up and, careful of your hair, slipped the cloth gag out of your mouth and let it drop to the floor.

"Cat?" You rasped weakly, the one word catching in your throat like a stone. Your mouth hurt and felt like it was full of paste, dry and clammy at the same time.

"Yeah," he laughed softly in relief as if hearing your voice made you more real. "Hold on, doll." He said, pulling his knife out of the sheath on his boot and cutting through the restraints on your ankles before moving up to each wrist. The plastic snapped easily under the blade and your body felt like it's entire existence gave a sigh as the blood flow resumed to those areas.

Before you could stop yourself, you crumbled off of the chair and against his chest, but he was expecting it. He knew you better than anyone and like always, it was as if he could read your thoughts. Your sobs came easier than you would have liked, but they were impossible to fight.

Frankie's arms wrapped around your body like they had a thousand times before. One hand went to your hair and he looked over his shoulder to Will, "Get Pope." His words were as quiet as he could keep them while still allowing the other man to hear him over your tears.

"Of course," Will nodded, leaving the room at a jog.

"Santi's here?" You managed to choke out and you felt him nod.

"You bet," he tightened his grip on you, clearing the emotion out of his own throat. "Who do you think called in the calvary?"

The fact that your brother had been the one to track you down was not surprising in the slightest. You had hoped against all odds that the moment you didn't show up to meet him in the city, he would have allowed his paranoia to go into full force. But you had no idea that it meant he would rally a rescue posse. It made sense--there was no way he would be able to take the mansion solo, but knowing that all of his guys, the guys that you considered part of the Garcia family, had dropped everything to help him find you made your chest tight. The tears started again and you gripped Frankie's Kevlar vest, too tired to fight them.

"Hey," he whispered, pulling you back against him. "I got you. You're safe now--we're gonna get out of here."

You nodded and looked back up at him. Two years. Two years and not a damn thing had changed about the man in front of you. He still wore a ball cap that you were certain you had seen before, his thick, dark hair curled out from under it and you knew if the hat came off it would be sticking out in every direction. Your fingers itched to touch it, to touch him, any part of him that wasn't the tactical gear that covered the outside of his body. The scruff at the sides of his jaw had just a touch of gray, now that was new, but then again neither of you were kids anymore. You couldn't stop yourself as you touched the edge of his beard with the tips of your fingers. He was here. He was real. And despite the distance and the time between your last encounter, he had come for you.

"Can I kiss you?" Frankie choked out in the empty room as if he held the thought in any longer he was going to burst. His chest ached, and his jaw hurt from clenching his entire body to keep his own tears at bay. He didn't need to add his own shit on top of your distress, and he shouldn't have asked for such an intimate act after just untying you from a fucking chair. But he heard Will's voice promising him that he would get to tell you everything he had ever meant to since you met.

"Yes, yes," you nodded, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and looked at you like he had never seen you before. Your cheek was bruised from the day before, the purple edges starting to turn yellow but the majority not the center remained a painful looking black. Your lip was swollen, very obviously cut open and recently dried by something forceful and crass that should have never been allowed to touch you in the first place. The corners of your mouth were irritated and chapped from the gag and from screaming, another image that he didn't want either of you to have to remember after today.

He shouldn't kiss you, he shouldn't entertain such a self indulgent act when you were this badly hurt, but you didn't stop him. If he was a bigger man, he would have stopped himself, but the thought vanished as he met your eyes. Those soft, kind, eyes that he wanted to lose himself in were so tired, red with tears, and downright broken. If Lorea was still in this house...he would skin him alive.

His lips were a feather's touch against your own and you swallowed the whimper that threatened to leave your mouth because you knew such a noise would gut him. You wanted to hold him close and never let him go again. Suddenly all of the excuses you had ever had for settling down with Frankie Morales were bullshit. You allowed your arms to be pinned against his chest as he held you close and you closed your eyes. He smelled like rain and sweat but under that he smelled like how you remembered, like campfire and earth.

Not wanting to cause you any discomfort, he allowed himself one last quiet peck before nosing your cheek and exhaling softly.

"Take me home, Frankie," you breathed against his face, your voice shaking despite your efforts. "I just want to go home."

He nodded against you and you felt his grip tighten. "You got it. We're going home."

"(Y/n)?," Pope said as he broke the threshold of the room and laid eyes on you and Frankie. "Oh, gracias a Dios," he said, lowering his voice as he crossed the room and fell to his knees with a graceful thud. Frankie relinquished his hold on you so the other man could gather you up into his arms.

You hugged him back as tightly as you could, but nothing prepared you for the grip he engulfed you in and the grimace on your face made Will speak up. "Easy, man, she's seen better days," he called from his position in the doorway and it made you smile.

"Are you hurt? What did they do?" Pope said, sitting back on his heels and holding you at arm's length to see your injuries.

"I'm okay," you tried to sound reassuring. "Sore, but okay."

"Did you have any idea why they wanted your crew?" Will asked, and you shook your head.

"No, I don't. I've been in this room since I got here. I know they change who guards the door, but that's it." You put a hand on Frankie's leg to steady yourself and his hand found the small of your back. Even sitting on the floor, you felt weak, you were so tired.

For two days the only human contact you had was with a select few of Lorea's men. With a shift change, they gave you water, led you to the bathroom, and then redid the zip ties on your hands and feet. The blindfold stayed on through everything and they had strict orders to keep their hands to themselves and not rough you up too much. You weren't stupid--Journalists made good ransom chits, especially American, female ones.

"Is there any of your crew left?" Will asked and you shook your head.

"They killed them, oh god," your hands started to shake again and your breath caught as you remembered the men kneeling in the tennis courts of the mansion, landing in a puddle of blood and darker things with each bang of a gun. "They're dead--it's just me."

Santiago pulled you back against him and put his chin on top of your hair. "It's okay. Stop. Nothing you did would have stopped it. Your job was to survive, remember?"

You nodded, not really wanting one of your brother's trademark military pep-talks. You knew he was right, what else could you have done? But that thought didn't do anything to change the bile in your stomach that made you want to throw up.their coms crackled to life, thankfully drawing yourself out of your own thoughts.

"Fish? You got eyes on (y/n)?" Benny's voice came over the radio and you looked at Will who gave you a wink. Of course he had brought his little brother on the rescue mission.

Frankie reached up and clicked the button pinned to the collar of his shirt. "Yeah we got her. She's okay."

"Good," Tom's voice crackled back. "Now, everyone to the upstairs office. We got a problem."

"Shit," Pope cursed, getting up and letting go of your arms so Frankie could take over. "Take your time," he said to you as your knees wobbled and Frankie hooked his arm around your waist.

"I got her," the other man said, nodding his head in the direction of the door. "Go see what's wrong."

Pope hesitated, taking another glance at you before nodding his thanks to Frankie and Will. The blond moved to the side, but kept his post of guarding the door so Frankie could give you his full attention. He started unbuckling his bulletproof vest and you looked at him in confusion. He tossed his backpack next to his gun on the floor, clearly intent on getting to the vest itself.

"What are you doing?"

"You're gonna put this on," he said flatly, pulling the Kevlar over his head in one fluid motion.

"Frankie, you need that," you tried to protest but he shook his head.

"Arms up," he said firmly and you obeyed in silence. He was gentle as he pulled it over your head and tightened the first strap on your side. He clipped the buckle and moved to the next one, making sure the material hugged you tightly and was secure. As much as you wanted to argue, the look on his face made you bite your tongue. His sole mission was to get you would of that mansion alive by whatever means necessary.

His handsome face was much too serious and you couldn't help putting your hand on his cheek as he leaned down towards your chest to finish the last buckle around your back. The small smile you received was worth the action. He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt and held it in his palm.

"Safety," he said pointing to the small black dot under the magazine. He clicked it up and the dot showed the smallest flash of orange paint underneath. "On."

"I know how to handle a glock, Cat," you said quietly and he grinned.

"Just making sure," he raised his hands in playful defense as he let the full weight of the gun transfer to your own hand. "I know it's not the beretta."

You blushed and shook your head as you holstered the gun in the waistband of your jeans. You suddenly wished you had the beretta that was sitting useless in the nightstand beside your bed. Santiago had purchased it before he left back for Columbia and he entrusted Frankie to teach you how to use it. And the man in front of you had stayed true to his word.

"Let's keep moving," Will broke the silence between the two of you and nodded his head down the hall.

Frankie agreed with a nod of his own and started to walk towards the door only to stop and hold his hand slightly behind him. You crossed the gap and gripped it tightly, something you had done a thousand times, felt as wonderful as it had years ago. "Stay with me," he said gently and you nodded. He knew it was an unnecessary request, because right now, he couldn't think of a single thing that would make him let you out of his sight.

Tag List: @winters-buck @stevieharrrr @zeldasayer @rae-gar-targaryen @thebakerstboyskeeper @bookshelvesandteacups @honestlystop @seawhisperer @huliabitch @phoenixhalliwell @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @domino-oh-damn @wickedfrsgrl @cloud-of-roses @arrowswithwifi @thinemineours @sgtpenny @xxlovingfandomsxx @scorpionsandhoney @honeybeeespeaks @lukesrighthand

@irishleesh93 @ripleyafterdark @lokiaddicted @maybege @humongouspandafest

@jigglemiwa @manda-but-not-lorian @skdubbs @buckstaposition @lostinwonderland314 @a-killvr-queen @mrpascals @saltywintersoldat @starlite41

@ms-dont-care @lustinglilac @fioccodineveautunnale @cahooter

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged, if I missed you, etc etc. There are a few of you that your tags aren't working. 😭😭

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #Pedro pascal #pedro character fic #addicted to you #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales

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wandaluvstacos · 3 years ago

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"If they didn't want to do it, they wouldn't do it"

So whenever an animal rights activist shows up on some youtube video of an animal performing for human delight, the usual counterargument is:

"If this animal didn't want to do it, it wouldn't do it!"

This is partially true. You cannot pick up a horse and force it to jump a jump if it really doesn't want to jump it. Horses that have no passion or ability for jumping or cutting do not make it to very high levels of the sport, and if you have to spurt/whip a horse repeatedly to get it to do the thing you want, then you're not going to get far.

However, there are many violent ways you can get a horse to do want, such as horse "dancing".

youtube

Unlike the piaffe in dressage, which CAN be achieved through ethical and compassionate means, this sort of "dancing" is done by tying a horse between two poles and whipping it until it has to trot in place. Often its knees are struck until it picks them up higher. Eventually you remove the poles and you can get a horse to "dance" like this with the rider. It tends to swing back and forth because during training, they'll tie chains to their feet, and the swaying is how they avoid being struck by the chains.

There is also soring done to Tennessee Walker Horses:

youtube

This is where you "sore" their front legs (basically by rubbing chemicals on their legs and plastic wrapping it to "bake" it in) until they're sensitive/painful. This means they step higher in the ring, as a way to avoid being in pain. It's a very different gait than the typical TWH gait.

Both of these are instances in which you actually CAN get a horse to do something against its will; it's just that only the most tolerant, patient horses end up "doing well" because any horse with less tolerance flunks out.

There's also the blue tongue phenomenon in the highest echelons of dressage. And let's not forget the hot mess that are barrel racers.

Any animal can be coerced into doing your bidding. However, it's also ignorant to say that all animals must be violently coerced into performing; plenty of horses are happy and healthy doing the exact same disciplines as the horses that are forced into it. As someone who has ridden a variety of horses, you instantly know when a horse is a "jumper" and when it's better left off as a trail horse. There is no amount of whipping you can do to turn a lazy horse into an Olympic jumper, nor a winning racehorse. A lot of them HAVE to enjoy it in order to succeed as well as they do.

I've also been thinking about these weird freak-outs top tier dressage horses have, what I would call a complete "shut down". A LOT of barrel racers do this same thing. They absolutely refuse to move forward. They act spooked but there's no clear indication of what's spooking them. Kicking and spurring does little to convince them to continue. It's like you're trying to have a conversation and getting no feedback. Some might say that horse is "over threshold."

A lot of people in the comments of these videos will say "every horse has its days". But these are TOP TIER performance horses, not backyard ponies. They've been in dressage rings just like this a hundred times. And as someone who has a horse who is hot, she has simply never reacted to anything in this way, even on her worst days.

This is the sort of shit she pulls when she's displeased about something.

youtube

Usually she states her opinion and then we continue moving forward. Usually her opinion is that we are not going fast enough for her taste, lol. In this video, she saw some horses she wanted to go visit and I told her "no", and that's why she got so upset. Notice she comes right down to a loose-reined walk, and after that there is no issue.

I took her to her first show this weekend, and it was a shit show. It was her first time being in a ring with a bunch of horses, and she was NOT happy about it. It was a walk/trot class, which is obscenely offensive to her, apparently, and any time she wanted to canter, my aids bringing her back pissed her off so much she had to do her crowhopping thing. Needless to say, we were eliminated.

However, I noticed there was another horse in the class who WON both walk-trot classes, walked into the ring to jump, and absolutely shut down. Refused to go forward, both inside and outside of the ring, spun in circles, seemed like a completely different horse. I'm not saying anyone did anything wrong with this horse, or that there was any abuse. What I found odd was how two different horses went about reacting to too much stimuli. Athena never "shuts down". She reacts to the thing she's mad about (almost always me telling her to slow down), we move forward. She happily jumps anything I place in front of her. She's an INCREDIBLY frank horse. If something pisses her off, she let's me know. And we just keep moving. Despite her hot and often cautious nature, she's never just refused work. It's kind of nice, in a way. If something is hurting her or bothering her, I never have to guess.

This horse, who was so well behaved in the prior two classes, was clearly saying NO, I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS. I think more tolerant horses may be more prone to this shut down. They just let minor things coast off of them, but it builds and builds and builds and then just EXPLODES. These are the kind of horses most vulnerable to abuse, because they just take it-- until they can't anymore.

It also makes me think of my other horse Dragon, who is Athena's complete opposite. He is so stoic and tolerant, so much that when he got banged up in the trailer (no real reason beyond his own clumsiness; he'll be wearing extensive padding from now on) he barely hesitated to get back on afterward. Athena wouldn't have done that shit! You'd never get her on a trailer again if she hurt herself while on one! I imagine Dragon would be the perfect horse for an abuser, and who knows, maybe there's one in his past, considering how cautious he was around people when we first got him. An abuser would have a MUCH harder time with Athena.

This is what's most sad about abusive tactics in horseback riding-- it usually only works on the nicest horses, horse you could actually train with ethical methods if your only goal wasn't winning a show. Honestly, this is why I kinda like Athena's piss-and-vinegar attitude about stuff. Yes, it's annoying clownery especially at shows, but deep down I know she won't tolerate any shit from me, or anyone else.

Anywhere, here's a pic of here from the show where she acted like a lunatic and got eliminated, lmao. We were allowed a practice run over the 18" walk/trot crossrails that she jumped at full-out canter, having the time of her life. She is NOT a hunter pony, that's for sure, lol.

#was thinking about this a lot #despite all her faults she has never once shut down on me #she's just opinionated that's all #horses #my ponies #Athena #Youtube

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lesdemonium · 4 years ago

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romtober day 8: love breaking a curse

Rating: T Ship: Geraskier Word Count: 2696 Summary: Geralt receives a contract to take care of a creature haunting the castle overlooking a village. Geralt decides he might be able to save the creature instead.

AN: ok i'm gonna warn y'all before you start--i make no fucking effort to wrap this up. this is basically 3kish words of an idea for a longfic, which has been rattling around inside my brain and hopefully will get written eventually. but if i get any angry messages about the curse not getting broken or me leaving this without any sort of resolution, i will give you sassy responses. your expectations should now have been adjusted accordingly!

if you like this idea and would like to eventually see a resolution, lmk! i find it fun and would love to get back to it, if there's an interest.

read on ao3

The castle was freezing. Geralt had barely stepped past the threshold before he could see his breath fogging out before him. Outside, it had been a spring morning, on the cooler side, but still held a hint of warmth. Inside, the air felt harsh against his skin, cold enough to cause pinpricks of pain.

It was dark and dusty. Cobwebs covered everything and the furniture and paintings showed a level of degradation Geralt wasn’t expecting. The castle hadn’t been deserted for long, maybe a few decades at most, and yet it looked as if it had been abandoned centuries ago. The cold, the rot, the stillness of the air, the overwhelming feeling of decay, it left Geralt feeling as if he’d never be warm again. This place reeked of sadness.

As he stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind him, he heard something shift in one of the rooms beyond what he could see. There had been reports of a specter, of a monster, of a something haunting the deserted castle, and the forests around. The villagers were scared to go near it. They were convinced if they drew too close, they would die an unspeakable death. Better to have a Witcher go and take care of the problem for them.

Geralt followed the sound, though he was unsure if it was the creature or just an animal that had looked for warmth. He dispelled that thought, however--it was so much colder inside than beyond the castle walls, he was certain no animal in its right mind would seek out this place for protection from the elements. Something shifted again, and a cracking sound echoed through the halls. Geralt pulled out his silver sword and stepped carefully, silently.

He came to a large, open room, with wide windows, many of which were shattered. A ballroom, maybe. Once, it might have been grand, but now it was just as destroyed as the rest of the castle. Geralt edged a foot forward, crossing the threshold.

A voice, high and inhuman, hissed its way through the air. “Go away,” it said, and Geralt whipped his head around to find the source.

There, in the corner, he saw it. What, exactly, he was seeing, Geralt wasn’t entirely sure. The figure was humanoid, almost, but much taller than the average human with long limbs and sharp angles. The skin was partially translucent, like glass, but splattered with hundreds of flecks of black and dark gray and brown to muddy its appearance. It stretched as tall as it could, its arms and legs lengthened to make it appear more imposing than it actually was, and if Geralt was human, he was sure he would cower at this icy creature that was easily ten, twelve feet tall.

Geralt was not human, however. And despite the way the creature attempted to make itself look like a threat, Geralt noticed the way it remained bent in on itself, and as far from Geralt as he could get.

“What are you?” Geralt asked, pulling himself fully into the room.

A scream rung out in the room, high and hissing like the voice had been, and Geralt had to brace himself against the wall to keep from being flung. The windows rattled and Geralt heard one high above shatter, only to rain down on the creature. It did not react. Instead, it seemed to close in on itself more.

“Go away,” the creature insisted again, but now the voice sounded more human, and far more sad than Geralt was expecting. A man’s voice.

“I’m a Witcher,” Geralt said. He returned his sword to his scabbard, then held his hands out in front of him, palms facing the creature to show he meant no harm. “I was hired to investigate this castle, rid it of whatever was haunting it. But I think you mean them no harm.”

“Go away,” the creature repeated. He sounded desperate now, and Geralt saw the way he pressed up against the wall behind him, like he was trying to get away from Geralt. Geralt stopped.

“I can help you.”

“No one can help me,” the creature answered. Ah. So he could say more.

“I could try.” Geralt looked around. “Is this your home?”

“It was.”

“What happened to it?”

The creature was silent for a long time. Then, the room erupted into color, and light, and warmth. The debris littering the floor was gone, and it revealed a beautiful marble floor, so clean and shiny Geralt was sure he could see his face reflected in it. He was right, the room had been grand, with the large windows letting in so much light. Geralt started when a body moved through him--a specter, a visual trick the creature was creating just for him. Couples danced, and now Geralt could just barely hear the music, and the far-off sound of voices and laughter.

“A witch,” the creature said, and it felt as if the voice was in his head.

Geralt saw her now. She was beautiful, in a floor length gown and a deep purple cloak that flowed around it. The witch stepped up to a man, young and beautiful and dressed in finery, who held out his hand. She accepted, and they joined the other couples dancing.

Just as quickly as the couple appeared, they faded into nothingness, and Geralt watched as the entire illusion faded into the disrepair it was now. The creature slumped, all of his energy gone.

“Were you the man?” Geralt asked.

“I was,” the creature answered.

“What’s your name?” Gerlt asked.

“Go away.”

“What’s your name?” Geralt asked again.

“Go away!” the creature insisted, his voice taking on the hissing, harsh, inhuman quality again.

“I want to help you.”

“No one can help me!” Now the creature stood up again, and Geralt tried to brace himself again for the scream, but it was louder this time, more powerful. Furniture moved across the floor, and the wind whipped around him, picking up in intensity as it carried off the creature’s final “Go away!”

Geralt barely registered escaping, but he found himself outside the castle and wind slammed the giant door shut behind him.

The next day, Geralt wore the furs he had unpacked from Roach’s saddlebag. She was safely stabled in the village, and Geralt left her with the stablehand and thorough instructions.

Getting to the castle was no easier the second time as it was the first. It was perched high on a mountain, surrounded by large, tall, thick trees. It made little sense--surely there would be an easier way to travel between the castle and the village, as this castle would have presided over the village. Perhaps the creature had a hand in making it inaccessible.

Impossibly, the castle was colder when Geralt finally pushed his way inside. The door had been blocked off with debris, the creature clearly thinking that a little effort and a thick tree branch were enough to deter Geralt from his mission. They were not. Geralt was made of far sturdier stuff than that.

Geralt had barely cleared the doorway when he heard that hissing voice again.

“Go away!”

“No,” Geralt answered. He planted his feet, sure that another display of the creature’s power was coming, but after a few moments, Geralt still only heard silence. He made his way back to the ballroom.

The creature was not there.

He searched the surrounding rooms, but there was no sight of him. There were about a hundred more rooms in the castle that he could have searched through, but Geralt had a feeling even if he did, the creature would be one step ahead of him.

“You could make this easier on both of us and just show yourself,” Geralt said.

The creature’s only answer was a quick burst of wind that blew leaves into Geralt’s hair.

“Have it your way,” he answered.

Geralt made his way back to the ballroom. This was where he set up his supplies. He had planned for an extended stay this time, complete with rations, extra bedding, and even a tent in case his host was feeling like manipulating the weather. By the time he was finished, he caught a flickering in the corner of his eye, and turned to look.

The creature was now in the corner, right where he had been the day before, and whatever magic he had used to make himself invisible was wearing out. Or he was choosing to allow Geralt to see him.

Satisfied, Geralt sat himself upon his bedroom, his legs crossed, and faced the creature. For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

“Why are you still here?” Geralt asked.

“It’s my home.” The creature sounded offended, but at least his voice was human.

“Are you stuck here?”

The creature didn’t answer, but the wind blew another clump of leaves at Geralt’s face.

“What’s your name?” Geralt asked, to help squash the grin growing on his face.

“Jaskier.”

Geralt hummed. “That’s a bad name for an ice monster.”

This time, when the leaves hit his face, he didn’t bother hiding his grin.

“What are you?” Geralt asked.

“Shouldn’t you know that, Witcher?”

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” Geralt answered, figuring honesty was probably what was needed here to get the creature--Jaskier--on his side. “And you didn’t tell me much about how you came to be.”

The wind swirled in the room, and Geralt watched the leaves spin in circles as Jaskier, presunably, mulled this over. At least they weren’t flying toward his face this time.

“Cursed,” Jaskier finally answered.

“By the witch?”

“Yes. Marikka.”

Geralt hummed. “You knew her. Why did she curse you?”

Behind him, a door slammed. Geralt turned to look at it, and saw it swaying open again, apparently broken. He hadn’t even felt the wind, but when he looked back to Jaskier, he could just barely see the pinched expression on his face. It was hard, from this distance, but the message was clear. Back off.

Geralt wouldn’t.

“How am I supposed to help you if you don’t give me any information?” Geralt asked, rolling his eyes.

The door slammed again, and this time Geralt didn’t look. Over and over, it banged against the threshold, but as it went on, the less pointed it seemed. The wind kicked up around him, swirling the leaves and debris and creating little tornados. Jaskier didn’t scream, but it was a near thing. Geralt felt the anguish there.

“I can’t help you unless you help me,” Geralt said, standing up. He held his hands out again, and tried to inch closer to Jaskier. “I can’t break this curse if I don’t know what it is.”

“Then don’t!” Jaskier screamed back, sounding more like a wraith than he had yet. Geralt kept moving closer, even as the wind picked up, his steps slow and steady. This time, he’d make it to Jaskier. He knew he would.

That was his last thought before Jaskier sent a burst of wind directly at him. So strong Geralt flew off the ground, and right into a marble pillar. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

When Geralt woke, he was in another room entirely.

The bed he was in wasn’t destroyed, exactly, but it certainly showed its wear and tear. Cloth just didn’t last that long, and as a result the canopy above him was in tatters, and the blanket over him didn’t hold in the warmth as much as his furs had. Still, he noted the effort that Jaskier--it had to be Jaskier--put in, even if Geralt was shivering from the moment he woke up.

“Jaskier?” he called, as he sat up.

There was no response, and Jaskier wasn’t in the room. Geralt stood and--checking to make sure there were no damages, or that he was healed of any that had been there--made his way back to the ballroom. When he got to the door, it wouldn’t budge.

“Jaskier, I know you’re doing this,” Geralt said patiently. “Let me in.”

“No. Go away.” Jaskier still sounded as if he was in the same room, rather than behind the ornate door.

“That hasn’t worked every other time you said it, and it won’t work this time.” Geralt pushed on the door again, and it budged, but swiftly closed again, knocking Geralt back. “Please don’t launch me again.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, and he did sound remorseful. Miserable, even. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you didn’t,” Geralt answered. “You were in pain. I knew you were lashing out, and I still got too close. I forgive you.”

There was a long silence, and when Geralt tried the door again, it gave way. The room was even more destroyed. Broken glass was everywhere, and while he was out, the chandelier had given way. It now lay destroyed in the center of the room.

“Jaskier, what happened?” Geralt asked, turning to face Jaskier, back in his place on the far side of the room. As always.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier repeated, sounding no less miserable than he had before.

“So this… was you?” Jaskier didn’t answer, but Geralt took it as an admission. “Because you were upset? Guilty?”

“For hurting you,” Jaskier agreed.

“I’m fine, Jaskier. I heal. I’ve gotten worse injuries than a smack to the head.” He bent to pick up one of his own belongings, which were now strewn about the room. “I’m going to set up my camp again. I won’t approach you, but I might have to get closer.”

The wind kicked up again, but only strong enough to blow some of his belongings closer to Geralt. Geralt smiled, then set himself on the task of setting up camp again. By the time he was finished, the sun that had been shining through the windows had grown low in the sky. Geralt had a feeling, with his long healing rest, that he wasn’t going to sleep much today.

“You can leave this room,” Geralt said. It was as much a statement as a question. He was pretty sure Jaskier didn’t use wind to carry him the whole way upstairs, into the bed, and under the covers. He didn’t seem strong enough, except when he was upset. That meant he had to have carried Geralt. “Why don’t you?”

“I like it,” Jaskier answered.

There was a pause, then slowly the room started to change back into that magnificent vision Jaskier had given him before. Jaskier, it seemed, remembered this room in sunlight and warmth, despite the growing darkness outside and the ever-present cold. This time, the room was empty of people, aside from a small boy playing a piano. His melody was rough, clearly he was still learning, but as the song went on, he grew better. He grew older.

Soon, Geralt was looking at the boy turned young man. Jaskier, it had to be. Jaskier wasn’t dressed in his finery this time; instead he wore a pair of trousers and a loose-fitting shirt, unbuttoned far below what Geralt was sure was appropriate. The music he played was beautiful and had a great deal of character and humor pressed into it. He had never heard this song before.

“You like music,” Geralt said.

The image before him changed rapidly. Images of Jaskier playing a piano, images of Jaskier dancing, playing a lute, singing, writing. They went too fast for Geralt to get a good look at anything, but he knew this was a correction. Jaskier didn’t like music, Jaskier loved music.

“How long have you been here?” Geralt asked.

The image of Jaskier changed. It was horrific, Jaskier’s take on his transformation. The memory-Jaskier’s body twisted and cracked in unnatural, painful ways, sharp edges breaking out of his skin and enveloping him in ice. His mouth opened in a silent scream as his legs and arms grew long, long, longer, until he was the creature Jaskier was today. The warmth crept out of the room, and slowly the ruin grew, until Geralt found himself right back in the destroyed ballroom, all illusions gone.

“A long time,” Jaskier answered.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier au #cursed jaskier #my writing #romtober

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 7

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/631916582484017152/odins-ward-chapter-6

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Word count: 3232

Warnings: Adult themes implied

Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24

Y/n’s POV

It’s been three weeks since Loki took me to the meadow. We have not yet been able to return, but the flowers in my room don’t die. In fact, they never even seem to wilt. This only solidifies my theory that Loki created the meadow for just the two of us. That means something significant, I’m sure of it. Since that time, I can tell our relationship has shifted. I believe that if I was not already promised a husband from my father, Loki might be interested in courting me.

It wouldn’t do though. Father has plans for me in Alfheim, and Odin has plans for Loki here. The knowledge that we can’t be together in the long-term makes me sad, but being around Loki tends to make that sadness go away. I just enjoy the time we have together and try not to think about the fact that, now that I am of age, I could be called to Alfheim at any moment.

A knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I smile to myself. That’ll be Loki, ready to take me to dinner.

It is to my great surprise, then, to find Thor waiting for me on the other side of my threshold.

He beams. “Lady Y/n, would you allow me to escort you to dinner?”

I blink. After an awkward silence, Thor offers me his arm as a reminder. “Oh. Yes, of course, Your Highness. Forgive me, it’s just that I was expecting—”

“Loki, I know. He escorts you to dinner every evening.” Thor’s voice is different now, a little…harder. I take his arm and allow him to begin the walk to the dining hall. “Lady Y/n,” he lowers his voice so I have to work to hear him. “I know that you and my brother are…close. But you both need to be more careful. It is not my business how either of you spends your nights, but I cannot help but notice how conspicuously the two of you are behaving.”

I swallow, nerves buzzing. We’re not even…. I try for some damage control. “Your Highness, I—”

Thor puts up a hand to stop my words, and I fall silent. “It is not my business, Lady Y/n. I am simply warning you as your friend. I do not wish to see your reputation tarnished, as I have come to care for you as a brother would care for his sister.”

Too many reactions run through my head, so I go with the one that is the most polite. “Thank you, Your Highness, truly. I appreciate your counsel.”

Thor nods, a kind smile on his face. “I wish the best for you, Lady Y/n.”

Despite my shock at this conversation, I try to return the smile, because he really does mean well. “And I, you.”

We enter the dining hall then. Thor walks me to my seat before walking to his spot at the other end of the table. Frigga sits next to Thor, Odin in the middle, there is a space where Loki should be, and then there’s me at the end. I stare at the table, not wishing to engage in conversation. Not that Odin would speak with me, anyway. Dinner begins without Loki. I pick at my food, not really in the mood to eat. If Thor noticed my and Loki’s…attachment…then maybe we really are being too conspicuous. Which is silly, because there’s nothing going on to even be conspicuous about!

With the creak of a door, Loki enters the dining hall. The tense frustration on his face breaks into relief when he meets my eyes. He takes his seat, first apologizing to his parents for being late, then turning to me.

“You did not wait for me.” There’s hurt in his voice that he tries hard to mask with indifference.

I immediately feel guilty for hurting him, even unintentionally. “I would have,” I murmur, still looking at my plate. “But Thor escorted me to dinner because he feels that we…well, that we are romantically involved and are quite obvious about it.” Despite my embarrassment at this topic, I look up so I can gauge his reaction.

It’s angry. He clenches his jaw and his voice is tight when he speaks. “That is none of his concern—”

I hurry to his brother’s defense. “He spoke out of friendship, Loki. We can’t blame him for—”

“Even if he was speaking with kindness as his motivation, he should have come to me rather than to you. You shouldn’t have to deal with—”

“Well, you shouldn’t have to deal with this, either! Besides, it’s not like we—”

Odin stands so quickly his chair screeches, effectively silencing everyone in the hall. The King utters two simple words, but the effects are immediate: “Frost Giants.”

The room erupts into chaos. People react mainly by screaming. Some draw weapons, some seem plastered to their seats, some make a break for the exits.

Thor stands, Mjolnir at the ready. Loki kicks into action as well, hastily taking hold of me and his mother. Our world goes black.

We reappear in what looks like Frigga’s chambers. Nausea hits me, but I try to ignore it and focus instead on the situation at hand. Because from what I can gather, Asgard is under attack.

Loki runs to the door and pulls two sentries into the room. “Guard them with your lives,” he orders, darkness in his voice. Finally, he turns to us. “I will come for you when it is safe. Stay hidden.”

Frigga nods gracefully from her spot in the middle of the room. Her shoulders are pulled taut, and I can tell she is worried for her son. I feel the same.

“Hey.” My voice is tighter than I want it to be, probably due to the terror currently working a hole in my chest. “Be careful.”

Loki’s eyes lock with mine, and I can see the fear and determination in them. No sparkle like there usually is. He swallows, nods once, and disappears.

Neither Frigga nor I speak.

From the far ends of the castle, I can hear the grunts and screams of people as they fight. I’ve never seen a Frost Giant, nor do I know what one sounds like, but I pray that what I hear is the sound of them dying rather than the Asgardians. Through many tense minutes of waiting, the sounds of battle get closer to Frigga’s room. By her body language, she knows we’ll soon be in imminent danger.

There’s a crash outside the door, and I jolt into action. I reach under my dress and pull my dagger from its home in the garter attached to my thigh. Frigga eyes me quizzically.

“I know I’m probably not supposed to have this. But…I do.” Given the situation, I’m not exactly sure what to say. For all I know, this is going to be my last conversation.

A tight yet somehow still kind smile briefly crosses Frigga’s face. “Worry not, dear Y/n. It is important everyone know how to protect themselves. I would have taught you myself had I not suspected my son was already doing so.”

I do my best to smile back as the clamoring gets nearer. A sparkle—the same sparkle I’ve seen in Loki’s eyes—enters Frigga’s as she reaches behind her back and unsheathes two long knives previously concealed by her cascading hair.

All I can say is: “woah.”

From our position in the middle of the room, we wait.

I’m hypersensitive to the sounds outside the door. The clashing has gotten louder, and I hear the sound of metal scraping against metal. The guards inside the room tense, ready for battle.

The door slams open.

Before I can react, Odin enters the room, surrounded by his guards. Frigga lets out a breath of relief and bypasses the guards to hug her husband. She exudes relief.

I exhale as well, lowering my dagger to let it hang by my side. I close my eyes, finally able to relax now that I’m not contemplating my death.

Absently, I register Odin’s words to Frigga. “It seems….” There’s pain in Odin’s voice, and my ears perk up. Has something happened? Is Asgard in trouble? “Loki has been gravely injured. We must go to his side at once…he is not expected to live much longer.”

My head snaps up. Without warning, the only sound I can hear is my jarringly loud breathing. I can’t blink. I can’t move. I can’t even react. I’m just…frozen.

Frigga lifts a shaking hand to cover her mouth. Then, she lets out a shriek of anguish that pierces through the silence and collapses into Odin’s arms. His face is drawn, his sadness is apparent, but he’s obviously trying to be strong.

“My love, we must go find our son.”

Frigga nods dimly, tears falling down her cheeks as she allows herself to be pulled to the door. On his way out, Odin’s eye catches mine, and he gestures to a guard. “Take her to her chambers and make sure she stays there. The castle is not yet secure.”

The guard obediently does as Odin orders. I don’t feel his hand on my arm, nor do I remember walking to my room, though we must have, because next thing I know, I’m sitting on my bed. The guard leaves me alone and I just sit. My body feels numb. Is that normal? I don’t know how much time passes, only that it’s enough for terrifying thoughts to run through my mind. Has Loki died yet? Or is he in agony, waiting to die? The image of Loki in pain, fatally injured, breaks me out of my shock, and I begin to shake with tears. I can’t stop crying. I sob until I nearly make myself sick. And once I’m out of tears, I fall to the floor in the midst of dry heaves and curl into a ball. Once again, my mind attacks me with unwelcome images of Loki lying on the ground, bloodied and waiting for death.

I should’ve been there.

Gods! I should have been there!

I grip at the rug in an attempt to bring myself some comfort, but the fabric offers nothing but scratches. Everything just…hurts. So badly. Imagining my life without my friend brings a deep pain that I never want to feel again.

“Y/n.” I hear a quiet voice from across the room and my head snaps to find the source.

He’s there.

Loki is right there, standing just a few feet away from me. We stare at each other, neither of us moving.

A leftover sob escapes me, and that seems to snap Loki out of whatever trance he was experiencing.

“Oh, Y/n.” Heartache thickens his voice and he hurries to join me on the floor, pulling me protectively into his arms. I cling to him and begin to cry once more.

“Your father, he said—he said—” I can’t even finish my sentence. I grip Loki’s shirt instead and cry into his shoulder.

“I know. I—I didn’t think he would tell you, I was just trying…” He trails off, seeming as lost for words as I am as he rubs my back soothingly.

I take deep breaths and work on calming myself down. It’s okay, it’s alright. He’s here now, safe with you. Loki produces a handkerchief and helps me dry my tears.

“It was just a trick.” His voice is quiet as he holds me. “I faced a particularly nasty situation and determined the best solution would be to cast a double to make the Frost Giant think he had bested me while I was secretly waiting to kill him. Well, after I had done so, more Frost Giants entered the fray and I was so occupied with fighting them that I completely forgot to dispose of my severely wounded double. When my father saw it, he assumed the worst and immediately told my mother…and you, it seems. Y/n, I am so, so sorry.” His voice breaks mid-apology.

I pull back so I can look into his eyes. The eyes that I thought had been taken away from me too soon.

Screw it.

I push myself so I’m sitting up in his lap and press my lips to his.

He makes a strangled noise of shock before tightening his arms around my waist and kissing me back. The kiss is hard and desperate, each of us pulling at the other to get them as close as possible. My hands find the ties of his armor and begin to tug them loose. Loki pulls back and stops my progress with his clothing.

“Y/n, we can’t. Your reputation—”

I look him straight in the eyes, absolutely sure of my decision. “Everyone here already thinks we do this. In their minds, my reputation is ruined. So why not make what they’re saying true?”

He swallows, seeing my logic. Then he shakes his head, thinking of another argument. “Yes, but what about your prospects on Alfheim? If your father finds out about this—or any potential suitors do—you’ll be shunned! I—I can’t do that to you.”

“Loki.” I take his face into my hands, holding his eyes on mine. “No one in Alfheim will know of what I do in Asgard. There are so few ways of communication. I promise that everything will be okay. I want you, Loki.” His eyes flutter closed, and I place a kiss on each of them. “If you want me too…then I’m yours.”

He opens his eyes, happiness and adoration shining through. He pulls my hand from his cheek and kisses my palm without looking from my eyes. Then, he stands, pulling me with him, and kisses me again, much softer this time. He places his hands on my hips and gently guides me onto the bed.

{***}

I wake to feather-light kisses on my neck. It tickles, and I can’t help but let out sleepy giggles. Opening my eyes, I find Loki staring right at me with my favorite mischievous smile on his face.

“Hello.”

A slow, lazy smile spreads across my own face. “Hi.”

He pulls one of my hands from its grip on the blanket to hold it in his. He kisses my palm lightly, one of my new favorite behaviors of his. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah sure,” my grin broadens. “Sleep.”

He laughs, pulling me and rolling over so I’m resting on top of him. “Well, I know you enjoyed that.” He winks cheekily and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear.

I roll my eyes but lean down to kiss him despite his cockiness. Too soon, he groans and pulls away. “I have to go. I just wanted to say goodbye before I left so you didn’t think I abandoned you or anything.”

I rest my chin on his chest, just enjoying looking into his eyes. “That’s kind of you.”

He rolls us again so I lie underneath him, but he thankfully keeps most of his weight on his elbows. “I will see you tonight to escort you to dinner.” His face darkens. “Unless my idiot brother beats me to it.”

I chuckle. “His intentions are kind. Besides, your brother—”

Loki stops me with a groan. “Okay, never mind. This is the last moment I want to be thinking of my brother.

I throw my head back in laughter, and he takes the opportunity to kiss my neck once more. My laughter falls silent.

“There.” He brings his head up with a satisfied smirk. “That takes care of that.”

I roll my eyes, but there’s no true annoyance in me. Right now, I feel perfectly content.

“Alright, I really must go.” There’s regret in his voice, and I do my best to ease that.

“Thank you for staying the night.”

Surprise colors his features, and he regards me with slight bewilderment. “Of course. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.” The honesty in his voice is apparent. He kisses me once more before standing up, dressing magically, and teleporting out of the room.

Once I’m alone, I grin stupidly and smush my face in the pillow. So that just happened.

Too soon, my maid, Dagmar, enters, curtsies, and gets to work. She doesn’t comment on my lack of clothing or the state of the bedsheets. It’s clear what I have done, but since I’m in the room alone, Dagmar can only speculate. She quietly goes about her job, and soon I am ready for the day.

Breakfast and lunch pass normally. I do my best to pretend as if I enjoy the company of the other ladies at Court, but only about three of them are truly tolerable. Lady Sif invites me to take a walk with her, and I consider telling her about my night with Loki. I stop myself just in time. People suspecting is one thing. People knowing is another. Instead, we discuss battle strategies and she regales me with stories of her latest adventures with Thor and the Warriors Three. I’ve barely made it back to my room when there’s a knock on my door.

“Come in.”

The clink of metal alerts me to the fact that I do not have one of my usual visitors.

“Lady Y/n, the King requires your presence in the throne room. I am to escort you there.”

A rod of panic slices through my stomach.

Oh gods. Odin knows.

I swallow, not wanting the guard to see my distress. “Alright.” My voice is breathy, and I try to calm myself down. Just don’t panic, Y/n.

The guard and I begin our walk to the throne room.

You have got to calm down. Just be brave and honest and then maybe Odin won’t expose you to your father.

My heart beats rapidly.

We reach the doors of the throne room. While we wait for the order to enter, I wring my hands together nervously. Oh, I wish Loki was here.

The massive doors swing open and I gulp.

Here we go.

The scene in front of me is not at all what I expected.

Odin sits on his throne with Frigga standing at his side. Thor has placed himself a few stairs below and to the right of Odin’s throne, and Loki is half-hidden behind it. Odin, Frigga, and Thor look pleased—incredibly so—but Loki…Loki looks like he is in agony.

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. The look on Loki’s face is nearly painful. I desperately want to run to him and comfort him, but that would surely seal our fate….

If us being together is even what this meeting is about.

A heavy feeling pools in my stomach as the early stages of understanding weigh on me. Oh.

“Lady Y/n, it is my pleasure to finally be able to tell you that we have received word from your father.” Odin’s eyes gleam with self-satisfaction. He has no idea of the storm of hurt, fear, and dread swirling within me. The King delivers the message I know is coming:

“Your father has found you a husband. It is time for you to be sent home.”

A/n Hello! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637789805440368640/odins-ward-chapter-8

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola

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