#she bruises like a peach but has oh so much love to give | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eleanor-bradstreet · 2 years ago

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Ok I extinguished the fire in my nethers and have recovered sufficiently enough to give you more detailed feedback. Even though I am privileged to know the skeleton of this story, you put such lovely and exciting meat on its bones, as I never doubted you would. I cannot fully express how much I love love looooovvveeee this first installment, and how excited I am for where we are headed!! But I shall endeavor to try, in a spoiler-free manner:

I love that you chose to kick off at the one year post-surgery point. This was a significant milestone for my friend who is a transplant recipient. We call it her ‘heartaversary’. It is undoubtedly important to remember and celebrate such a pivotal moment in life, without letting the overall experience define you. Treat it as a new years-like celebration, a motivation for fresh starts, a reminder that your lease on life was renewed when the universe otherwise conspired to terminate it. You captured all of this beautifully in the first few paragraphs.

Oh Ellie - I sense she is a combo of several folks, and I absolutely adore her 😉💙 And she’s some kind of high-falutin’ actor? Or at least has a well-connected family. Very fancy indeed 😎

“loved you mercilessly back to health” What an amazing turn of phrase, I LOVE THIS MERCILESSLY!!

“that old familiar question of “What now,” was being replaced by “Why not?” Ugh, AGAIN! I love this!! In a single sentence you paint Reader’s mindset for us. It’s so true and understandable for what she has endured, and it sets her up perfectly for what she’s about to do next. Surely the only thing more intimidating than approaching a certain Someone would be a brush with mortality. 😜 Now that she’s got one out of the way, nothing can stop her from pursuing the other.

“A brooding masterpiece”. Anthony Bridgerton, ladies and gentlemen 👏👏

“If he was this striking while he was sullen, he would be breathtaking with light behind his eyes.” Cue my memory of Anthony before and after meeting Kate, or before and after she says “I love you too”. The man TRANSFORMS when a smile lights up his face. You nailed it!

OMG Ellie and her innuendos 🤣🤣 Genius! What a wingwoman lol

“But he does look an awful lot like a guy I went to RADA with.” I already told you I love you for this Made me laugh and break out into a big goofy grin 😁

“You know that one has an over-inflated sense of self. Make sure you put a little extra twinkle in your eyes to soften the blow. He’s liable to bruise like a peach.” I have no words for this, it’s just perfect. 🍑

“You’re the girl that told death to fuck off and he listened.” This too, says so much. What a true and caring friend Ellie is, and reinforcing Reader’s newfound strength and spontaneity. This is just a glorious line and I think I will steal it for IRL application ❤️ Gahhh you write so weeelllllll, it makes me sick!

“The way his eyes darkened sealed your fate.” Welcome to season two of Bridgerton folks, and the absolute CHOKEHOLD he placed on the world 😜

“This man was dangerous.” Hmmm, sounds familiar��

“with one fluid motion, hooked his foot under the bar on your stool and pulled you closer to him.” This is 👏 the HOTTEST 👏 non explicit act 👏 I have ever read in a fic 👏 Holy Mary Mother of God, Jesus and the Donkey she rode in on. I’m dead. Slain. Just this one move. It’s over 🫠 🫠

“His movements weren’t harsh but they could never be described as gentle. He touched with the surety of someone who knew they were capable of bringing pleasure. Not arrogance, but unadulterated truth. It was clear that you were being handled by a grown ass man.” You never fail to leave me cross-eyed when you write steamy scenes. Dear lord….you’ve captured him and my loins

“Choosing a stallion for your first run seemed dangerous. Maybe a donkey would have been more your speed.” As others have said, this is HILARIOUS and apt and so, so very perfect 🤌🤌 Brooding stallion masterpiece - that’s our boy

“His tongue sliding up the length of your neck had you gasping for air and clutching his shoulders for leverage. His mouth found yours again and he swallowed you whole.” THE SIENA!!! YAAAASSSSSSSS 🔥🔥🔥

Guh, his flagrant filth before she can even open the door, immediately switching to tender assistance to help her unlock it. The fact that she’s willing to let him be her psycho killer if that’s what it comes to. Same girl, same…

“I need you on my tongue. I can’t wait.” Eyes crossing harder…

“No, it brands you a survivor. Makes me fucking hard to know how much strength is under my fingertips right now.” She may have survived, but this line killed me….

It would be obscene for me to elaborate on how I feel about the encounter at this point. Please just know that it is exceptional. Your encounters are so searing, I simply…..idk if I can handle it….

I will call out this line: “not before you box my ears with these gorgeous fucking thighs” 😵😵 WOMAN WHAT IS THIS DEVILRY YOU WIELD???

“Fear could simply signify a nervousness for things unknown, urging you to expand your horizons. It didn’t have to be a prison forcing you to merely exist without the driving purpose of being alive.” 🥹 Bringing it back to the emotions, even at the height of carnality. You are so talented.

His tenderness, his promise for more...“Tomorrow had arrived, and the time for living was today.” Indeed it is.

This is masterful, expertly juggling so many complex emotions on top of a salivating evening with our Viscount. I’m locked in, desperate to see what comes next, regardless of the fact that I have a hint of an idea. This is my lifeblood now - I need to see it. Phenomenal 💙

The Viscount Who Loved Me Too Much - Part 1

Pairings - Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary - Modern AU - Reader takes control of her life 1 year post heart transplant. She meets Anthony Bridgerton and learns to ask for what she wants in life.

Warnings - 18+ Please, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count - 6.4K

Author’s Note - This is being laid out as a 4 Part Series. While I do plan to sprinkle in the fluff and smut, eventually the angst will commence. I really hope you all enjoy the premise for this story. Lots of research has been done to keep this as accurate as possible. Naturally, some liberties will be taken because this is a world of fiction and writing over the top scenarios are a writer’s prerogative. I want to say a huge thank you to @eleanor-bradstreet on this one. She has been conspiring with me behind closed doors to bring you guys this steamy, angst filled series. She also is a wonderful beta reader, keeping me from seeming completely illiterate.

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You’ve crossed many milestones in your life. Some of them big, some of them small. No matter the size, they always left you with the baited question of “What’s next?” This time was no different. You battled through the hardest trial of your life, making this your greatest victory. You suspected that was precisely why the proverbial after held infinitely more pressure now. Simply put, you were terrified.

Today marked the one year anniversary of the day you received a new heart. Frailty and fear were meant to be a thing of your past. You refused to bend the knee to their suppression any longer. You had given yourself this arbitrary timeline of not just physical, but emotional recovery. One year, that’s all you were allotted.

According to your doctors, your body was healing ahead of schedule. There were no post surgical infections, no signs of rejecting the organ, even your incision site had already started to fade into a distant memory. That was all within a few months of your surgery.

While your body seemed ready to move on, your brain and this new heart needed more time to reconcile with each other. Perhaps you were still raw from the upending chaos of your experience, but every emotion was heightened now, dragging you along against your will. There were parts of your personality that you didn’t recognize and feelings that you’d never met before. It was almost like you were living with a stranger, spending your days trying to get to know one another. You were still you, but now you carried this wistful longing that you could never quite silence.

Keep reading

#fic rec #read this #do not miss this one #talented author #steamy viscount #slavering for part two

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forthegothicheroine · 3 years ago

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Perfume for Noir Dames

Brigid O’Shaugnessy (The Maltese Falcon): Chanel No. 5. It’s old fashioned and charming and it says exactly what you want it to- that you’re a high-class lady and far above any scum you happen to be associated with. What’s that, Chanel was a bad person? That just makes you even.

Vivian Sternwood (The Big Sleep): Mitsouko by Guerlain. When they think of you, they’ll think of rose and peach and moss all gone beautifully bitter. It’s tough and complicated and old money, and the marketing keeps going on about how the name means Mystery. What are you if not all those things?

Laura Hunt (Laura): Mon Guerlain. Your mother insisted on teaching you how to cook and bake, and even though you wanted more out of life than a warm stove, you still smile at the smell of pastries. You believe in having a signature scent, and if it’s sweet and disarming, it will become complex by virtue of you wearing it.

Norma Desmond (Sunset Boulevard): Narcisse Noir by Caron. That’s what they wore back in the golden age, when girls were starting to smoke and wanted perfumes that blended well with nicotine, and it clung to your white silk negligee and black pearls. You get a new bottle every month, and you frequently need more than that.

Jane Palmer (Too Late for Tears): She Was An Anomaly by Etat Libre D’Orange. Everyone says that iris smells cold, and you like it that way. You have to be cold to make it through. You have two dead husbands, one murder and one suicide. They both died amid the cold scent of iris.

Annie Laurie Star (Gun Crazy): Black by Bulgari. You never claimed to be a good person. You never claimed to love milk and cookies rather than smoke and leather. All you claimed to be was in love, and even with all that danger clinging to you, you were telling the truth.

Mildred Pierce (Mildred Pierce): Tobacco Vanille by Tom Ford. You’ve done all you can for the ones you love, but sometimes all you can do is fight to survive. The tobacco in this perfume smells a lot better than the stale cigarettes you used to clean out of the diner’s ashtrays. The vanilla smells like the happy home you wish you had. This is where your money has taken you, and this is what you still want.

Lily Stevens (Road House): Bruise Violet by Sixteen92. You’ve never heard the words “riot grrl” before, but you like the sound of them. You like the idea that you could be cheap and gravel-voiced and smell like lipstick and powder and still take care of yourself. And you like that you don’t have to break the bank to buy a bottle.

Dr. Constance Peterson (Spellbound): Not a Perfume by Juliette Has a Gun. Cosmetics in general are bothersome in your line of work; you’re expected to be feminine enough to seem professional but not so much that they can write you off. If you could just have the scent of something soft and subtle but secretly sweet, that would be very soothing.

Gilda Mundson Farrell (Gilda): Snake Oil by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab. They want a femme fatale? Oh, you’ll give them a femme fatale, alright. You’ll make sure you stay in their memory, sugared over in vanilla and incense, maddening and jaded and full of love. If they can’t take it, that’s their loss.

Vera (Detour): Poison Girl by Dior. The minute you got your money, you headed straight for the nearest department store to spend it all. You grabbed a full bottle because it smelled sweet and rich and glamorous, and maybe just for a while you can imagine yourself as the kind of girl who always had access to it. Anyone who says you’re wearing too much can fuck right off.

Phyllis Dietrichson (Double Indemnity): Honeysuckle & Davana Cologne by Jo Malone. How could he have known that murder smelled like honeysuckle? He could have asked you. You could have told him there was always something sinister underneath anything beautiful.

Sandra Carpenter (Lured): Portrait of a Lady by Frederic Malle. Maybe you shouldn’t be wearing perfume while solving a mystery and trailing suspects, but you’re trying to draw out suspicious goth boys, and what better way than to smell like a Baudelaire muse? Your lips and nails are the same dark scarlet as the roses in this scent, and the smoke merges with the fog that covers the streets.

Nell Forbes (Don’t Bother to Knock): La Fille de Berlin by Serge Lutens. You were supposed to be living happily ever after by now. You were supposed to be held close by your one true love, who would think you were perfect and irreplaceable. Can’t they just let you wear your expensive roses and pretend to be a romantic heroine, just for a little while?

Cora Smith (The Postman Always Rings Twice): La Vie La Mort by TokyoMilk. You’d like to live in a bower of white flowers if you could. Really, anything better than where you are right now. Somewhere you never have to get your white dresses dirty and always have bouquets of jasmine being handed to you by your admirers.

Margot Shelby (Decoy): Joy by Jean Patou. What’s that, a bottle costs too much for an anniversary present? Well then, your lover had better make some more money, hadn’t they?

#perfume #film noir #style writing

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razorblade180 · 3 years ago

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Nine Days of Lancaster

[Day 4: Soulmate au]

Everything has a routine. From the everyday worker, to the cat resting on a fence. Cars pass by, birds call, life goes on. I’m truth, there’s nothing wrong with that. Not everything is meant to be grand. However, everything was meant to have color, vibrant and glorious visuals that made the mundane a little more grand. Unfortunately such a right was only given when life’s greatest thing was found, love.

Jaune Arc walked through the muted Vale streets. It wasn’t too bad. Color wasn’t truly loved, but never experienced deeply by most. Faint flickers of green signaled him to cross the street which, rushing to lunch before meeting with his visiting family. He weaved around the colorless bystanders then continued on his way. He was making good time. That was until Jaune made a sharp left turn around a corner. The young man was stopped dead in his tracks as somebody crashed right into him, toppling them over and sending a skateboard into the road.

“Ugh..what on Remnant?” Jaune groaned as rubbed his side. It felt like he hit a car instead of a person. He looked across from him to see why that was. Oh it was a person alright. Unlike him however, they had a helmet. “Hey, are you o-”

His words were caught in his throat as the stranger sat up, removing the helmet to rub their head. Slowly, as if like tie dye, color begin to spill into the world before his eyes. Stark black hair revealed hints of red end. Their fair skin became more peach while white jeans became blue and muted gray turned to black. The only color that remained unchanged was the pool of silver eyes he peered into. With a couple blinks, Jaune Arc’s world became vibrant.

Ruby looked that boy she just hit and gasped, hoping to her feet. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry.” She reached her hand out to help him up. “Dad always tells me not to skate on busy sidewalks. Guess I should’ve listened. Are you okay?”

“Umm…uhhhh”

“Oh no, I broke you!” She panicked. The girl had half a mind to call for medical help, when a hard snap made them both turn around to see a big truck pass by and broken board in the street. Her jaw dropped and so did her head.

“Woah, bad luck.” Jaune said.

“Oh, so you can speak? Guess that’s good.” She sighed, “Well, guess I deserved it.”

“I’m partly to blame. I shouldn’t be running around corners like that. Are you…okay?” He quickly became aware of this girl’s beauty again, making him nervous.

“Me? I had the helmet. You’re the one rubbing your ribs. Oof, please tell me they’re not broken?”

“No, no, I’m…pretty sure?” He was legitimate pain but not that much pain. “I might bruise by I tend to bounce back quickly.”

He saw her frown. Clearly she wasn’t convinced and by her earlier reaction, probably feels bad. Jaune wasn’t really sure what to do. He didn’t even know her name. Also, she didn’t appear to be as startled as he was either. He didn’t want to think about it much but it’s entirely possible that he was only one seeing in color now. That’s happened to more than a few unfortunate people.

“That’s unfortunate.” He thought to himself. Still, everything and anything became more…alive. Even the sky he’s seen all his life was finally the magnificent blue his parents described. That alone was a blessing. Not the mention the sense of warmth he was getting from her. It made him nervous, but not unpleasant.

“Were you going some place important? With your board gone, I don’t mind buying you a bus ticket.”

“Don’t worry about all that. I wasn’t going any place special. Just my sister’s. Anyways, scroll.” She holds out her hand.

“Excuse me?”

“Your scroll. I’m giving you my number. If you end up having to see a doctor or anything then call me. I’ll pay the bill.”

“Oh, you don’t really have t-”

“Scroll please.”

“Yes ma’am.” Her stern yet polite voice was somehow both sweet and intimidating. He got his scroll back and took a look. “Ruby Rose, that’s a nice name. I’m Jaune Arc by the way. A not as nice name.”

“Hehe, I don’t know. Rolls off the tongue pretty easily. Well I hope you feel better genuinely. If not, don’t hesitate to call. I’m a clutz but a responsible one.” She said with pride.

Jaune got a laugh at that. He nodded and just like that, Ruby went on her way. He saw her look at her board for a moment before her shoulders slouched as she abandoned the idea of grabbing the pieces.

“Ruby Rose…huh.”

xxxxxx

“I can’t believe you hit someone!”

“Leave me alone!” Ruby yelled defensively, plopping down on her sister’s couch. “I lost the board and my knee hurts. I’ve suffered enough. Yang, please tell me you have an ice pack or something?”

“You’re lucky I always have a bag of something frozen whenever you get hurt. Hold on.” She walked over to her kitchen.

“You always have something because you don’t cook.” Ruby mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing~”

“Thought so.” Yang chuckled, opening the freezer. “So, what’s this Jaune fellow look like?”

“Tall, a bit scraggly, but seemed nice. Also…deep blue eyes.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds n-” it took a second but did she hear that right? Yang immediately closed the fridge and ran back to the living room to see her sister bunched up in the corner of the couch, a deep blush on her face.

A smile slowly started to spread across the older sister’s face. “Ruby, can you see in color!?”

She hugged her knees, “Oh you know…yeah~”

“You ran over your soulmate!?”

“It was a crash and I think I did!”

Yang in her special way started off getting really excited for Ruby, before immediately bursting into laughing. All Ruby could do was cover her face in embarrassment. She didn’t need any color to know just how red she must’ve been. Oh well. At least she got his number.

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #rwby lancaster #9daysoflan22 #yang xiao long

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dadbodosamu · 3 years ago

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what’s my name? [daddy]

Stepdad Osamu x Cis!Fem reader

WARNINGS: cheating, pseudoincest (stepdad/daughter), spanking, age gap (Osamu’s in his thirties and reader is freshly 18), daddy kink, spit kink, breeding kink

2.8k words. unbeta’d and vaguely edited

part one || part two || part three

“I can walk,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder. It’s your last year of high school, you’re an adult now, freshly eighteen, you can walk yourself to school, damn it.

“Let me drive ya,” Osamu says, grabbing the keys to his car. “Ya won’t let me make ya lunch anymore, let me at least drive ya to school. We can stop and get breakfast.”

“I can walk, Osamu,” you say, glaring at the older man.

Osamu stops dead in his tracks. “What was that? What did ya just call me?”

You scoff, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “You’re not my dad and I’m not a kid anymore.”

You grab the door handle but before you can open it, Osamu has you spun around, facing him. His face is dark and the grip he has on your wrist is bruising.

“O-Osamu, you’re hurting me,” you whimper, trying, and failing, to pull your wrist from his iron grip.

“There ya go again,” he says. He tuts and shakes his head. “Go sit on the couch. I have to make a few calls real quick.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, so you walk across the living room with all the shame of a scolded puppy.

Osamu is already speaking by the time you sit on the soft couch.

“Hi, this is Miya Osamu, Hanamiya Y/n’s father. She’s feeling a little under the weather today, so she won’t be able to make it in.” Osamu says. He pauses for a moment. “I’ll be around to pick her work up sometimes this afternoon, thank ya. Ya have a good day.”

Before you can speak, Osamu is calling another number.

“Hey, it’s Osamu. Y/n is sick today, so I need ya to watch over the restaurant. Call if there’s an emergency,” Osamu says. He hangs up quickly, and dials yet another number. “Hey, {mother’s name}, Y/n is feeling a bit bad so I’m going to stay home with her today.” He pauses. “It’s no problem, stay at work. If she gets worse I’ll take her to the doctor.” You can barely hear your mother on the other side of the phone, but you hear her small ‘I love you’. “Yeah, I’ll see ya after work.”

Hearing him so clearly dismiss your mother has you seething. You almost want to throw something at him as he hangs up.

“You’re such a dick,” you say as he walks towards you. “You don’t care about her at all. Fuck you.”

Osamu laughs as he sits in the chair next to the couch you’re on. “Fuck me? Oh, no, little girl. I’m gonna make ya regret those words. Come here.”

“Fuck you,” you repeat, crossing your arms.

“I’ll give ya until the count of three,” Osamu says. “One.” You don’t move. His face darkens. “Two. I’m not kidding, little girl. Come here. Now.”

His voice is more serious than you’ve ever heard it. A shiver runs up your spine as you stand without a second thought. You take a few steps until you’re standing directly in front of him.

“Good girl,” he praises. The words roll off his tongue like honey, and, unwittingly, your pussy throbs. “Now, bend over my lap.”

You nearly laugh. “No way, there’s no way. I’m not a child.”

“One.”

You’re bent over his lap before he gets to two.

“See, ya can listen,” Osamu says. His hand runs over your too short school skirt, flattening it down.

Your cheeks burn with humiliation. You can’t remember the last time anyone had you bent over their lap, much less Osamu, who preferred other punishments.

“Osamu, please, I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He lands a heavy hit across your ass, his large hand catching both cheeks.

You let out a loud cry as you jerk forward.

“That again,” Osamu says, shaking his head. “Ya know that hurts my feelings, little girl? Calling me by my name? Like I didn’t raise ya. Now, tell me why ya decided to hurt daddy’s feelings like that?”

Tears burn at your eyes. “I-I hate you!” You cry, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Osamu tuts and lands another heavy handed slap on your ass. “And why is that, little girl? Tell daddy what’s wrong.” He rubs your burning bum soothingly.

“Y-you’re mean to mom!” You sob. “An-and I hate you for it, Miya Osamu!”

Two consecutive slaps land on either cheek and you hiccup a sob.

“That’s where yer wrong, baby girl,” Osamu says, once again rubbing soothing circles on your bum. “Me an’ yer mom had an agreement. It’s not my fault if she gets her feelin’s hurt. She hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

You open your mouth to speak but cry out instead as Osamu spanks you three more times in quick succession.

“An’ anyway, that’s adult business,” Osamu adds. “No place for a little girl’s nose.”

“Osamu, it hurts,” you whine, squirming around on his lap. You freeze when you feel something hard poking against your stomach.

“There we go again,” Osamu sighs. He spanks you no less than five times, each harder than the last. Your body shakes from your sobs.

“Daddy, please!” You cry, tears and snot covering your face. “Please, I’m sorry!”

“There we go,” Osamu says, smiling widely. “That’s my good girl. What’s my name, again, sweetheart?”

“Daddy,” you whimper, sniffling. You rub your face with your sleeve as Osamu rearranges your body so you’re straddling his thighs.

“Daddy’s sorry for spanking ya, sweetheart. I know how my little girl gets sometimes,” he says, hugging you to his broad chest. “Ya get so bratty, daddy just can’t help himself.”

“‘m sorry, daddy,” you sniffle. You can’t help be be acutely aware of Osamu’s hard erection pressing against your sore ass. “D-Daddy, your...”

“What is it, baby girl?” Osamu asks, gently pulling you down, pressing his cock further into your plush ass.

You hiss in pain. “It-it hurts,” you moan.

Truth be told, it hurt so good. Each slap against your ass had your pussy clenching around nothing and now that you knew Osamu was clearly turned on... well it was making your heart beat faster.

“Want daddy to make ya feel better?” Osamu asks. He thrusts his hips smoothly, grinding his cock against your pussy.

You think about your mom. How heartbroken she would be if she found out about this and how your relationship would never be the same.

Osamu’s lips attach to the base of your neck and thoughts of your mother melt away.

“Daddy,” you moan, rolling your hips to feel more of him. “Daddy, please, I wanna feel better.”

“I know, baby, I know,” Osamu mumbled against your skin. “Daddy’s gonna make ya feel better, okay? Daddy’s gonna make everything better.”

Osamu lifts you easily. You wrap your arms and legs around him as he carries you to your room. You try not to think of the bedroom right across from yours that he shares with your mother.

Osamu tosses you on your bed and you immediately reach out for him.

“Wan’ you,” you whine, your hands grabbing at nothing.

Osamu pulls his shirt off and tosses it across the room before climbing on top of you.

“My little girl is so needy for daddy’s cock, eh?” Osamu asks, rocking his hips against yours. You moan and wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers in his hair.

“Daddy, want your cock so bad,” you moan. He pulls back, drawing a long whine from your lips.

“Stop whining,” he orders. Long fingers come up to your shirt buttons, nimble as they unbutton each pearly white button, exposing the peach-coloured bra you were wearing.

Your cheeks burn, suddenly wishing you’d chosen matching underwear this morning, or at least something more mature.

“So cute,” Osamu coos, throwing your shirt away. “Yer so adorable, baby girl.” Osamu pushes your bra up over your breasts and leans down. He gently takes your left nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue against it as he teases the other with his fingers.

“Daddy,” you moan, clenching your fingers in his hair. He pinches your nipple and grazes his teeth over the other.

“Cute little nipples,” he mumbles, leaning up and tugging on both nipples one last time. He presses a kiss between your breasts and trailed down, leaving soft kisses down your stomach until he reaches the hem of your skirt. He looks up at you.

You nod. “Please, daddy. I-I want you.” Osamu makes quick work of your skirt and pink panties.

He kneels between your legs, spreading them wide. “Look at ya, such a pretty pussy.”

Osamu arranged your bodies until he was comfortably facing your cunt. “I could just eat ya up, baby girl.”

“Daddy, I want you to touch me, please!” You cry as he teasingly runs his fingers through your wet folds.

“I am, baby,” he says, smirking wickedly.

“More! Want you to really touch me, daddy!” You say, impatiently bucking your hips up against his hand.

“Settle down, baby,” Osamu says, pushing your hips against the bed with his free hand. “Daddy’ll make ya feel real good, darlin’.”

Before you could say anything, Osamu rubs his thumb in a circle over your clit. Your words get lost in a moan. Your head falls back against your pillow as Osamu leans down. He presses a soft kiss against your inner thigh before wrapping his lips around your clit.

“Samu!” You cry, back arching off the bed as he inserted a single, long finger in your cunt, all the while suckling at your clit.

He landed a sharp slap to your thigh without pulling away. He adds another finger roughly.

“What’s my name, little girl?” He asks. He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly.

“Daddy,” you whimper as he licks deep into your cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises before leaning back down. He scissors his fingers, slowly stretching your walls. He ate you out in earnest, switching between slurping up your juices and suckling on your clit.

“Daddy, ‘m gonna cum,” you moan, gripping the sheets below you.

“Cum on my tongue, sweetheart,” Osamu says, pulling his fingers out. He rubs figure-8s over your clit and fucks his tongue in and out of your throbbing heat.

“Daddy!” You cry as your orgasm hits you. You cum hard, juices squirting on Osamu's face. He continues rubbing your clit until you start squirming from overstimulation. When he looks up at you, his eyes are dark and his chin is covered with your cum.

“Tastes so good, baby girl,” he says, crawling over you. He grabs your chin and kisses you roughly, not even letting you attempt a fight for dominance.

The taste of yourself on his lips has you thrusting your hips up, eager for more.

“So impatient,” Osamu tuts. He grabs your chin again. “So you’ll take anything daddy gives ya, right, baby girl?”

You nod, desperately waiting for something, anything.

“Open yer mouth,” he orders. Your mouth falls open without a second thought.

You can see Osamu gathering spit in his mouth and you let your tongue loll out in excitement.

“My baby is so desperate,” Osamu coos. “Ya want daddy’s spit that bad, baby?”

You let out a pitiful whine and squeeze his forearm.

You moan when his spit finally hits your tongue. Your eyes close as you savour it for just a moment before swallowing.

“That’s my good girl, swallowing before I even tell ya too,” Osamu praises. “Tell me what ya want, sweetie.”

“I wan’ you,” you whine. You tangle your fingers in the back of his hair and pull him into a brutal, sloppy kiss. “Fuck me, daddy, please.”

Osamu pulls away from you, breathing heavily, lips swollen and eyes dark. He quickly kicks his sweat pants down and off the bed.

“Come on, use yer words,” he says. “What do ya really want, baby?” He uses one hand to trace his cock along your slit, teasing your clit and clenching hole.

“Want your cock in me, daddy,” you say, hooking your right leg around his waist, pulling his hips down to meet yours. “Please, I want it so bad.”

You bite your lip as your eyes burn.

“Aw, is baby gonna cry for daddy’s cock?” Osamu teases. He pushes the fat head of his cock past your folds. You moan loudly.

“Please,” you moan. “Want more.”

Osamu pulls your right leg up and over his shoulder and inches his cock in your wet heat. He moans lowly.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby girl,” he says. Your eyes water as his fat cock burns as he slowly stretches your walls out. “Fuck, look how well yer taking me, baby.”

You glance down to where your skin melds together. You let out a low whine once you realise he’s barely halfway in.

“More, more,” you whimper, rolling your hips up. Every movement has him hitting another spot in you that has you clenching around him.

“Gonna take it all? Gonna be my good girl and take my cock?” He grunts as he pushes deeper. By the time he bottoms out, the head of his cock is pressing against your cervix and your thighs are shaking from the stretch.

“Oh, daddy,” you sigh as he stills. He’s stretching you in a way no one has before, and the burn just adds to the pleasure.

“Yer so fuckin’ full of me,” Osamu says, marvelling at the bulge in your lower stomach. He presses down on it lightly. He moans. “Gonna fill ya up real good, baby. Gonna make ya swollen with my seed.”

“Move,” you moan. “Want you to fill me up, daddy.”

Osamu pulls out slowly. He tosses your other leg over his shoulder and grabs your hips tightly.

“Oh, baby, yer not ready for me,” Osamu smirks. Before you can ask what he means, his hips pound against your ass, his cock going even deeper than before. A moan rips from your lips.

“Daddy!” You call, digging your nails into his shoulders.

Osamu doesn’t slow as his fingers meet your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in small circles. Your walls clench around him as your first orgasm hits you suddenly.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cum on daddy’s cock,” Osamu says. His hips and fingers don’t slow down as you gush around his cock. His pace seems that much more brutal with your overstimulation.

“Hurts,” you choke out. Your thighs tremble as Osamu continues his bruising pace.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” Osamu says. “Yer such a good girl for me, darling.”

Tears roll down your cheeks as another orgasm racks your body.

Osamu’s eyes roll back as your walls milk his cock.

“Good girl,” Osamu rumbled. “Creaming around my cock so well.”

You cry as Osamu speeds up.

“S-so good, daddy,” you sob as he grabs your legs and spreads them wide. You cry harder as he fucks into your cervix. “Fill me up, please, daddy! Want you to breed me!”

“‘m gonna fuck ya so full of my cum,” Osamu grunts, pounding into you slower and deeper. “Gonna knock ya up. Ya want daddy to get you pregnant, huh? Wanna be swollen with daddy’s seed?” You nearly bite your tongue nodding.

“Want your cum, daddy,” you whine as your legs start to ache. A high-pitched whine fills the room as you cum yet again.

“Fuck,” Osamu swears, his pace speeding up again. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart.”

His cock twitches inside you.

“Please, daddy, please. Want you to fill me up, breed me! Want your baby. Want your cum, need your cum! Please, fill me up, daddy!” You babble uncontrollably as Osamu’s hips stutter.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Osamu moans as he paints your insides white.

One last orgasm hits you as you milk his cock.

“Daddy,” you breathe as his cum fills you up. “So good.”

“Yer such a good girl, sweetheart,” Osamu says. He pulls out slowly.

“No, no,” you whine, clenching around nothing. “Want you to stay in me. Don’t wanna lose daddy’s cum.”

“It’s okay, baby, daddy’ll fill ya up over and over again,” Osamu says. He moves until his arms are wrapped tightly around you and you’re laid across his chest.

He hums with satisfaction as you trace your fingers across his chest.

“Ya were such a good girl, darling. Took my cock so well,” Osamu praised. “Yer daddy’s best girl.”

“Better than your other girls?” You ask.

“Yer the only girl I care about, sweetheart,” Osamu says. “I love ya, little girl.”

“I love you, too, daddy,” you mumble. You yawn.

“Let’s get you cleaned up before you fall asleep, baby,” Osamu says. He easily carries you to the bathroom, sitting you on the edge of the tub as he starts the water.

You frown as you catch sight of your mother’s robe and reality hits you.

“Oh, god,” you whisper. You look down at Osamu’s cum leaking out all over your thighs. “Oh my god.”

“What is it, sweetie?” Osamu asks.

“I’m gonna be sick,” you mumble, covering your mouth. “Mom’s gonna hate me.”

Oh, she’s really going to hate you in three months, when a small bump forms between your hips and you refuse to admit who the father is. Osamu’s smug face whenever it’s mentioned doesn’t miss you.

#miya osamu smut #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #timeskip osamu #osamu miya smut #osamu miya #cai writes #tw:pseudoincest #tw:incest

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storiesofsvu · 3 years ago

Text

Bruised Peach Ch 2

Jackie Sharp x fem!reader warnings: language, minor chaos, mentions of alcohol, teeny mentions of shit that went down in CA

With the way everything had been shifting around with your schedule, you ended up with an extra couple of days off from Shaw’s. Since Becca was still in school full time, she’d cashed in some vacation days from the pub to have some personal time off, making sure she was focussed where she needed to be in the meantime. You were both thankful when they lined up and you were able to spend that time together, most of it included lounging on your couch while you binge watched a new series, but you were also eager to keep Becca in high spirits. You met with Rob for brunch in the morning, and hit up a spin class in the afternoon before swinging through the grocery store to pick up supplies for dinner and a couple of different alcohol choices.

Returning to your apartment you split a couple of snacks and switched off showering while you tossed in a load of laundry to get ready for the week ahead. You threw together an easy stir fry for dinner to at least get something healthy into your systems as you chatted through your week prior. Becca needed a little bit of help on a couple of her assignments, so you read through them, offering your advice, and proofread the essay she had due Tuesday.

As always, your second screen was quietly playing the news in the background, there wasn’t too much political coverage right now as things were settling down with Heather out of the race. While you were halfway through proofreading Becca’s paper, something did catch her eye on the t.v. At first you were worried it was more bullshit related to Heather and thus, the Dunbar family, but instead, it was Jackie that held Becca’s attention.

“She’s dropping out!? Fuck! She had my vote!”

“Becks were you even actually following this election? Or was it just for the drama?”

“That’s a real nice way of avoiding my statement….” She eyed you suspiciously, “you really are turning into a politician.” She crossed the room back to the kitchen island, opening the bottle of rose you’d picked up earlier. You nodded when she made a gesturing sound toward you and she poured out two glasses, passing one to you as she dropped back onto the couch. “Am I supposed to vote for fucking Underwood now? He gives me the creeps.”

“He is not my favourite person to work with, I’ll tell ya that much.” You muttered, “at least Claire keeps him on a short leash.”

“Good.” Becca huffed, sipping at her drink, “I’d rather be stuck with him for the next four years than a republican president, so I guess I don’t really have a choice.”

“Sometimes it’s about the lesser of two evils…” you shrugged and she chuckled, “and way to avoid my question..”

“A bit of both.” She admitted, “I guess I just got caught up in the actual politics along the way. The drama was just an added bonus.”

“There was more drama than actual politics.” You pointed out and that brought a bigger laugh from Becca.

“Oh I am well aware.” She rolled her eyes, “did I tell you that E! Network got in contact with the family’s lawyer a couple weeks after Mom got sacked?”

“No! Why?”

“They wanted to pitch a reality show of our family, to start airing in the new year.”

“Please tell me you said no to that.”

“Oh a hundred percent! They wanted us all in one house, like fuck I’d go back to that shit. Besides…wouldn’t have been half as entertaining without Jordan…”

“Becks…” your hand reached out and gave hers a small squeeze

“God he would’ve absolutely loved that shit too.” She laughed heartily, turning to you with a smile on her face, “can you imagine it though? They wouldn’t even have to feed us fake scripts or shit, just like, watch the absolute bullshit just going up in flames.”

“I’m not gonna lie, it would probably have pretty high ratings.”

“You think?”

“I know.” You laughed, “since Heather dropped out? The numbers of viewers of debates has significantly dropped.”

“God there’s probably YouTube compilation videos of her life just imploding on itself…”

“Okay…please promise me that you’ll never google yourself or look that kind shit up.”

“I won’t.” She waved her hands in surrender, “I got my fair share of that shit already. I don’t need a refresher.”

“Good.” You smiled, sliding the paper over to her, “this is really good. There’s a couple spelling and grammar things I edited for you but aside from that I see a high grade coming your way.”

“You are…the absolute best. Thank you.” She scooped up the paper, sliding it back into her school folder and moving to put it back into her bag.

“Proofreading shit is like, half of my job at this point.” You shrugged.

“Yeah…about that…do you still…have a job? Or are you gonna be back at the bar full time now?”

“What’d’you mean?”

“Well with Jackie dropping out, doesn’t that mean her campaign team is no longer needed? Or do they like, redistribute everyone into other places?”

“It’ll all work out and fall into place, trust me. I know I’ve got job security this time, trust me.”

“Hmm…” a wicked grin took over Becca’s face and you braced yourself for what was about to come out of her mouth, “is that just cause you happen to be fucking your boss?”

“Becca!” You swatted at her as she crossed back to the couch.

“I mean! It’s true!”

“Technically, she’s not my boss.”

“You better start sucking up to Underwood then.” She teased and you rolled your eyes.

Thankfully, the washer beeped and saved you from any more humiliation. Tossing the t.v remote to Becca you moved through the condo to the laundry room, beginning to sort out what could go in the dryer and what needed to be hung up to dry. You heard a little commotion coming from the main part of the house, and wondered if Becca had decided to order dessert. Your anxiety shot to Heather, and wondered if she’d decided to show up out of the blue, but considering there was no amount of yelling, you were pretty sure it wasn’t her. You finished up the laundry, started the dryer and padded back out to the entryway, a smile broke out on your cheeks when you saw who your visitor was.

“Jackie!”

“Hey peach.” She greeted softly, accepting the gentle kiss you greeted her with.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just figured I’d stop by for a bit before leaving for Iowa in the morning. But I see I really should’ve texted first, I don’t want to intrude on girl’s night.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” You insisted.

“It’s totally fine.” Becca assured over the rim of her drink, “did you want a glass?”

“I still should have texted.” Jackie murmured to you and you shook your head.

“I told you you’re more than welcome here whenever you want. Becca said she doesn’t care, you can come in.”

“Well then I will happily accept that glass of wine.” With a smile she glanced back over to Becca who eagerly jumped into the kitchen to pull down another glass.

“Can I ask something?” The younger girl questioned as she slid the wine over to Jackie, who nodded, “if you just dropped out…why are you going to Iowa?”

Jackie and you exchanged a knowing look, and you left it up to her on whether or not to say anything on the matter. With a small grin she turned back to Becca.

“I’ve endorsed Underwood in his campaign. Meaning that hopefully, most of my votes will transfer over to him come November.”

“Okay but why just drop out? You were doing pretty well from what I could tell.”

“Because I was never going to win.” Jackie replied bluntly, “even with the support I had, I would have had to side with someone I hated or would butt heads with constantly, and I didn’t want to put someone on my ticket that I didn’t support.”

“Alright, I guess I get that.” Becca sighed, “sucks though, you had my vote.”

“Well…” she smirked, “I can still have your vote….it’ll just be for second in command, not first.”

“Wait what?!” Becca suddenly jumped up, glee on her face, “are you sure?!”

“Yes.” She laughed, “I got the deal in writing, there’s no way Francis can double cross. Not to mention if he did, I’d be able to publicly say something about it and he’d lose all my votes.”

“That’s amazing!” She suddenly turned to you, “you’re gonna be like, the first fucking gay lady!” That brought a laugh all around and you swatted at her arm.

“Claire’s still the First Lady!”

“To be fair, you will be the first gay one...kind of…” Jackie commented with a smile that you returned.

“I think it’s far cooler and progressive that you’re going to be the first not only female V.P, but also the first openly gay one.”

“How ground breaking the two of you are.” Becca teased and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes again.

“We were about to start a movie, or a t.v binge if you wanted to join?” You asked Jackie, gesturing towards the living room.

“A quick episode or two, but that’s it.” She assured you, “I’ve got an early morning, I can’t stay too long.”

“Ya know..” Becca started, “if you two wanted to disappear into the bedroom I could just like, turn the volume way up.”

“REBECCA!” You hucked a pen at her as she cackled, scurrying away to the living room. You turned to Jackie, giving her the best sympathetic look you could, apologizing for your friend and she simply chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek as she followed you to the couch.

You relaxed with each other for a couple of episodes, and true to her word, Jackie pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head after the second episode, nudging at you so she could get up.

“Oh c’mon..” you attempted to protest, pouting up at her as she stood from the couch, “just one more episode?”

“Peach…” she smiled, caressing your cheek, “the flight leaves at eight, it’s an early start.”

“Fine.” You grumbled and she affectionately pinched at your chin.

“You’ll be watching tomorrow? Another girl’s night?” She gestured towards Becca who let out a near snort.

“I’m watching with Claire.” You replied.

“No offence, but I’m done with the whole politics thing.” Becca replied, “I was really only watching to see my Mother’s life get blown up on national television.”

“Becca…” Jackie started softly, “I know that she put you through hell, and clearly wasn’t a fit parent, and pulled a lot of crap over the years, but…wouldn’t it be worthwhile to at least cut her some slack considering recent events?”

“Believe me…I tried.” She sunk back into the couch, taking a hefty swig of her wine, “I showed up at the house last week. Thought I could help her, or the housekeepers, whoever! To go through Jordan’s shit, figure out what was worth keeping. Maybe make sure she was eating and not devouring bottle after bottle of vodka.”

“What happened?” You asked quietly.

“I walked into the kitchen to find a half naked twenty two year old raiding the liquor cabinet.”

“Oh god.” Jackie dropped her face into her hand.

“Who, naturally, proceeded to freak out thinking I was another one of Mom’s affairs, accusing me of being a dirty slut.”

“Please tell me your Mom cleared the air?” You winced as you asked and Becca laughed darkly.

“She didn’t even own up to actually having kids until I called her ‘Mom’. Safe to say I high tailed it out of there and want absolutely nothing to do with her. She sent a card that said she was going to change and blah, blah blah, it would take time for her to be able to do so, meanwhile she’s not even fucking trying. It’s always the fucking same with her. I’m honestly surprised she hasn’t showed up at Dad’s door with her tail between her legs. Then again…maybe she does actually know just how done he is with her? And that in the long run she really did hurt him the most. She’s so fucking manipulative….if she ever actually starts seeing a therapist they are in for it.”

“Why didn’t you ever mention this?” You asked gently.

“Because she put you through more than enough bullshit. I didn’t need to drag you into my mess while you’re out there trying to win an election.”

“Becks…future reference. I don’t care what it is, I am always here for you to talk to or vent about crap.”

“I know.” She assured you with a squeeze to your hand.

“I’m so sorry for all of this Becca…” Jackie frowned from her place on the arm of the couch, “I wish there was more I could do.”

“Well….” Becca shrugged, “you are my godmother…and I’m kinda out of a Mom for the unforeseeable future?”

“I will be at every dinner and family holiday that you want me to be.”

“It’ll be nice for Dad and me to actually have some company. It’s weird suddenly being a family of two.” She sighed, and then quickly looked up at the two of you, “not that like, I’m super bummed about it or anything! I’d done my best to separate myself from the Dunbar clan years ago! I only went to the shit I was forced to go to. I just…I know it sucks a lot for Dad….”

“We’ll be there.” You assured her, squeezing at her hand.

“As long as you’re not too busy off playing Vice President.” Becca replied with a sly grin and you scoffed as Jackie laughed. “But really…I’m super happy for you Jackie. You deserve this. I mean…you deserve to actually be President, but if this is what you’ve got to settle for, I guess it’s the best.”

“Give it four years.” Jackie replied with a small smile, her phone suddenly beeped, interrupting the evening. She glanced down at it, sliding the notification open, “ugh,” she rolled her eyes, “it’s Frank. Reminders about tomorrow, I should really get going.”

“Okay.” You and Becca murmured nearly in unison, Becca’s attention redirected to the t.v to give the two of you a moment of privacy to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you soon Peach.”

“Good luck.” You replied with a grin as her hand came to caress your cheek, “not that you need it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, then ducked over to press a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“Bright eyed and bushy tailed.” You smiled back, humming at the kiss she left on your forehead before bidding Becca goodnight and leaving the apartment.

__________ @jamiethetrans @natasha-danvers @imlike-so-gaydude @svulife-rl@bumblebear30 @molllss @nocreditinthestraightworld @yourtaletotell @cerberus-spectre @emskisworld @ex-uallyactive @addictedtodinosaurs @Rosiewritesagain @imaginaryoperagloves @disn3y7 @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @swimmingstudentchaos891 @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @drduckthief @stone-hearted-seymour @yesterdaysgone @whimsicallymad @alexusonfire @mmmmokdok @lazarettta @sia2raw @ladysc @1-lindsay83 @mmemalwa @ms-calhoun @holycrapraewth @poisonedcrowns @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @wannabe-fic-reader @newyorker14 @lawandorderuswnt

#Jackie sharp #jackie sharp x reader #jackie sharp series #house of cards #Heather dunbar #bruised peach #classified affairs

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, happy Shared Birthday Month, cause it's my birthday month as well!! Can I please prompt you a WinterIron, where Bucky and/or winter soldier is a science nerd and a massive Tony Stark stan? Happy with setting in any era, any rating 😄 Thank you! You are amazing and I love your stuff!

Happy late birthday! Sorry it took me a bit to get to this prompt but here is a cute no-powers au, featuring some minor Natasha/Steve and some science from a paper my lab group read in group meeting yesterday (check the ao3 story for the paper citation). Sorry I didn't come up with something more original for the science but this was on my mind.

As always, everything I write is also on ao3.

“Okay, Steve, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me—for us,” Bucky quickly corrects when Steve shoots him an amused look. “So what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to sit quietly in the audience,” Steve says.

“And what are we not going to do?”

“Shout that our best friend would like to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane,” Steve dutifully repeats what Bucky has been telling him for the whole drive to the studio. He gives Bucky a sly smile. “Even if it’s true.”

Bucky swats his skinny arm lightly, enough to sting but not so hard that it’ll bruise Steve’s arm, which bruises like a peach. He still can’t believe he managed to win the tickets to watch the live taping of the one hundredth episode of Tony Stark’s show, It’s Only Science If You Write It Down. He’s been following the show since its first episode five years ago. Growing up, Tony Stark was to him what Britney Spears was to other kids. Stark was always in the news for his innovative inventions for his father’s company. Everyone had thought he would take over SI after his parents’ deaths, but instead he’d handed the company over to Pepper Potts, a then-unknown young woman working in SI’s financial department. Stark still held the majority of shares in the company but he’d turned his focus to becoming the next Bill Nye, along with his best friend. Bucky had stumbled across one of the articles about him when he was young and immediately developed one heck of a crush on him that hadn’t at all disappeared with age.

And now he’s here, attending the first ever live taping of Stark’s show.

It’d be a dream come true if only Steve wasn’t the one attending with him. Don’t get him wrong, Stevie’s great, but he’s also convinced Bucky needs to date more often and he’s very… enthusiastic about making sure that everyone they meet that Bucky thinks is even the slightest bit cute knows that.

Stark is the crush to end all crushes. He knows that Steve knows it. He also knows what Steve is like, and he thinks he’ll die of shame if Steve feels the need to let Stark know it too.

“You have your inhaler, right?” he asks as the line creeps forward.

“Yes, mother,” Steve sighs, patting his pocket. “And an EpiPen in the other pocket and my meds in my wallet.”

They’re reminded to keep their phones firmly in their pockets by the surly security guard—incongruously named Happy, according to the badge he’s wearing—at the front door and then ushered inside the studio, only to be stopped by a young woman with a clipboard as they’re climbing the risers.

“Hi,” she says with a sphinxlike smile that makes Bucky want to check that his wallet is still in his pocket. “Which one of you is Bucky Barnes?”

“Uh, that would be me,” he says, raising his hand slightly.

Her eyes catch on the silver sheen of his prosthetic. They don’t register anything other than idle curiosity, but Bucky still awkwardly tucks the arm away. It’s been almost ten years since the accident, but he’s still not used to the looks he gets when people see it.

“I’m Natasha,” she says. “Mr. Stark’s personal assistant. JARVIS noticed you when you entered the studio. Mr. Stark wanted me to inform you both that there’s been a change to the contest winnings.”

Dread starts to pool in Bucky’s stomach but it doesn’t have long to settle before her smile gentles and she adds, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing bad. He just wanted to invite the two of you backstage after the show is over.”

Bucky’s mouth drops open. Steve reaches over to close it and asks, “Why?”

To Bucky’s surprise, Natasha gives Steve a clear onceover, seemingly pleased by what she sees. “Mr. Stark wouldn’t like me to give away his secrets, but I’d imagine it has something to do with the way he spilled his coffee all over his front when he saw your friend’s picture.”

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically. “A notorious playboy tripping all over himself for this yahoo here?”

Natasha laughs, hard enough that Bucky mutters, “It wasn’t that funny.”

Once she’s calmed down, Natasha says, “He’s not as bad as you think. A lot of it is just reputation. And yes, as soon as he got a look at him, he was demanding I figure out a way to get him backstage.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” Steve demands, taking an indignant stance.

Natasha hums, eyes going dark. “Oh no, you got invited backstage because I wanted to meet you,” she purrs. “I’ll come find you boys later. Enjoy the show.”

She saunters off, putting just enough of a sway to her step that Bucky suspects if he were attracted to women, he’d be mesmerized. As it is, he’s the one who has to reach over to close Steve’s jaw this time.

They take their seats and a few minutes later, Tony Stark and James Rhodes walk on set. They’re quietly talking to each other as the crew bustles around them, makeup artists darting up to make sure their faces look perfect. Stark is dressed in a t-shirt that says Engineers do it on the test bench—which is a terrible joke really and shouldn’t make Bucky want to laugh as much as he does—and well-worn jeans that perfectly mold to the shape of his bubble butt. Rhodes could be dressed in a paper sack for all that Bucky notices him.

Steve leans over and whispers, “You sure that I can’t yell that you want to bang Tony Stark like a screen door in a hurricane? Natasha made it sound like he’d be open to it.”

“You do,” Bucky hisses back, “and I’ll tell Natasha you were looking at her rear when she walked away.”

Steve makes an indignant noise and sits back in his chair, sulkily crossing his arms.

“Quiet on set!” the director yells. “And… action!”

“Hi!” Tony Stark says, smiling right at the camera. “I’m Tony and this is Rhodey and you’re watching Disney Channe!”

“He’s kidding,” Rhodes says long-sufferingly. “You’re watching It’s Only Science If You Write It Down.”

Later, Bucky wouldn’t be able to tell anyone what the show had been about. He’d spent the entire show too entranced by Tony’s voice and charisma to pay any attention to the actual science, which is a bit of a shame. He really does like science—he wouldn’t be getting his PhD in physical chemistry if he didn’t—but he can’t tear his eyes away from Tony long enough to actually watch the experiment. It’s fine; he can always watch the show later when it’s released (and maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll have Tony to watch it with).

It seems like both an eternity and only a moment before the show wraps. Tony and Rhodes leave to thunderous applause, only coming back out for quick bows before disappearing backstage again. Bucky and Steve stay seated while the rest of the audience filters out slowly until Natasha comes to get them. She and Steve chat quietly as she leads them backstage but Bucky can only listen with half an ear; he’s too nervous about meeting his personal hero.

Rhodes is leaving the room Natasha leads them to. He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the three of them. “Good, you’re here,” he says, specifically looking at Bucky. “Maybe you can calm him down. He’s been bouncing off the walls since he saw your picture.”

“Really?” Bucky squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Really?”

“Really. He read all your papers last night—twice.”

“He has?”

Rhodes nods. “He really likes your piece on inelastic electron wave packet scattering.”

“Yeah? What did he—”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Rhodes interrupts. “I might be a rocket scientist but chemistry isn’t my preferred field of science. If you don’t mind, I’ve got a date to get to.”

He pushes the door open, letting them in, and leaves. Natasha slips through the door, followed immediately by Tony saying, “Where are—oh god, they left, didn’t they? I knew this was too much. Nat—”

“They’re right outside,” Natasha says smoothly. She opens the door further, revealing the two of them awkwardly standing there. Bucky’s gaze darts around a fairly nice dressing room before finally landing on Tony, who is blinking back at him with a wide-eyed, slightly stunned look.

“Hi,” he breathes out.

The corner of Tony’s mouth twitches up in the tiniest of smiles. “Hi.”

“Great, now that that’s out of the way, get out,” Natasha says, giving Tony a shove so that he stumbles out of the room, right into Bucky’s arms. She reaches out and grabs Steve, pulling him inside. “Don’t disturb me for the next hour.”

“Uh,” Steve begins, but he doesn’t actually look upset by this turn of events, so Bucky doesn’t worry—too much, anyway.

He does, however, turn to Tony and ask, “Is he going to be okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s fine,” Tony says breezily. “Natasha’s just very direct.”

“Right.”

Now that it’s just the two of them alone in the hallway, it’s a little more awkward. Bucky opens his mouth twice to say something, only to shut it again as soon as he realizes his question is stupid. For his part, Tony shoves his hands deep into his pockets and rocks back and forth on his feet.

Then the sound of what is obviously Steve moaning floats through the door. Bucky cringes and jerks his thumb in the direction of the door. “We should—”

“Yep,” Tony agrees.

They get all the way back to the set before they stop. They look at each other for a beat before dissolving into giggles. “Oh my god,” Tony says, clutching his sides. “I knew she moved fast but—”

“Well, Steve doesn’t move fast at all,” Bucky says, “so you can see where I’m a bit lost.”

That sets Tony off into another round of laughter. Bucky is calming down a bit so he takes the moment to admire the way Tony laughs with his entire body. It takes Tony a moment to realizes he’s being stared at. When he does, his laugh tapers off as he gives Bucky a lingering look.

“I’m Tony,” he says eventually.

“Bucky.”

“Wow, that’s really unfortunate.”

“You’re not wrong,” Bucky agrees. “Blame Stevie for that one.”

“Childhood friends, huh?”

“Literally played naked together in the kiddie pool.”

Tony grins. “That sounds familiar.”

“You and Rhodes—”

“Oh no, but if you ever get the chance to meet Janet Van Dyne, remember to ask her about the time she thought she could make a living selling mud pies.”

Bucky takes a moment to marvel that this is his life now, that Tony thinks nothing of giving him dirt on the most prolific fashion designer of their generation. “So, uh, Rhodes told me you read my papers?”

Tony’s eyes light up, and, wow, he looks really pretty when he’s excited. “Yes!” he exclaims. “I want to hear your thoughts on the—uh—the time-dependent density functional theory model.”

“I’d love to,” Bucky says honestly. He bites his lip. “Maybe over coffee?”

A delighted smile spreads across Tony’s face. “I’d really like that.”

He holds out his hand for Bucky to take, which he does. Tony’s hand is small and warm, fitting perfectly against his. They stand there, smiling at each other like idiots, until the surly security guard pokes his head around the corner and asks, “Boss, do you need me to drive you?”

Tony jumps. He shoots Bucky a sheepish grin and then calls over his shoulder, “No, I think we can walk, Happy.”

“Are you sure? There’s—”

“It’s only two blocks.”

“Yeah, but—”

“You know what, Happy. You should go see if Natasha needs you to drive her somewhere. I think she’s got a date too.” While Happy is distracted, Tony tugs Bucky towards a side door he hadn’t noticed earlier. “Come on,” he mutters. “Before Natasha decides to kill me for sending Happy to interrupt her.”

“You could not antagonize her,” Bucky points out.

Tony shoots him a mischievous grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”

#alle writes #alle answers #winteriron #if you like please consider reblogging

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kim-lexie · 3 years ago

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rewind 2021: october, november, & december

well here we are….just a collection from the end of the year because i am sooo late.

music.

‘the feels’ by twice. you know i did my darn best to learn this choreography. it is such a fun pop bop. and it is great. i love it.

‘rock with you’ by seventeen. it is solid just like the entire comeback. i particularly love this track. and i love the feeling of jumping straight into the song.

kai’s comeback. ‘to be honest’ & ‘peaches’ on rotation. i freaking love kai and his smooth vocals and choreo that he always delivers.

nct comeback. all my boys (minus two) all in one place. i love these comebacks. and i loved these track videos. ‘miracle’ hello! oh honey the album has been on repeat. each and every track. i loved it, and cannot express how proud of these boys i am.

‘killing me’ by chung ha.

onewe. this group just came out of nowhere. and by golly goodness i am so glad i stumbled upon them. they are versatile and the duality is top tier. some top tracks include ‘AuRoRa’, ‘veronica’, ‘end of spring’, ‘reminisce about all’, ‘parting’. also their live versions are *chef kiss*. 10 out of 10 recommend checking them out. and did i mention they’re a band and play instruments. *swoons*

‘one day’ by monstax. ‘they say hindsight is 20/20….’ just let me sit in a puddle of tears.

‘alright’ by ares carter & bumkey.

ateez comeback. my boys they’re back. they are sooooo freaking good. i love ‘turbulence’, ‘be with you’, and they freaking put the overture on there!! i cannot.

jeebanoff. he is always a favorite but i finally discovered his album released earlier this year and my goodness ‘void’ is too good not to include in a rewind.

dramas & movies. *spoilers ahead*

unforgettable love. this was a great drama. that was cute and had a happy ending for everyone! the little kid that truly drew me into the show was fabulous. he was comedic relief as well as a unique edition for a drama where the focus was on him and helping his psychological well being. i absolutely loved the resolutions throughout. and her best friend and her boyfriend definitely became a favorite of mine. bc of the character transformation he experienced. and i love how raw she was when he was confessing his feelings, she was like will you still take me with all these broken pieces and bruises. and he was like yes girl i will build you a house to keep you safe and protected so you can rest. cue the tears. i would rate this a 7 out of 10.

police university. jinyoung my dude is back. and this was a great one. we followed his character seon-ho a former hacker with a hidden criminal record, meet dong-man a detective that arrested him years prior at the national police academy. we follow them as they work together and eventually become friends in a mentorship, hunting down the criminals of a deep case involving the police and the university. and of course we have our girl, krystal, who seonho meets at a judo match and they end up in the same class at university. i enjoyed this one, rating it a 8.5 out of 10

hometown chachacha. this was a top tier drama. from the cast of characters, and life that they depicted was rich with various layers. we got to see so many different character and got a piece of all of their lives. and i especially loved each and every moment we had with our dimple couple. a favorite moment was when her friend says i may be jumping ahead but we should keep to two kids you know. and he is like the only thing i can think about today is skipping a few bases and kisses her. i would give this drama a 10 out of 10. and i will leave you with wisdom from harmoni ‘look around yourself closely and you’ll realize that you’re surrounded by many precious things. everyday is full of so much excitement as if i’m going on a picnic the next day.’

my name this drama ripped my heart out and stomped on it. nevertheless, it was a great drama, with plot twists i did not predict. the whole drama had me on the edge of my seat. from a young age her life was turned upside down, followed by the police to track down her father who she was led to believe was a gang member. turned out to be undercover, and was killed off by the gang boss she currently worked for. and every good thing she had in life, was in essence ripped away from her by this man. pul-do finally being her safe place, he knew the whole story of her actually being undercover from the gang, and wanted to protect her. when he called her name, it was probably the first time in years she heard it. and he brought her to the beach. literally so many tears. she loved him, and the boss saw that. so she had to take revenge again, because she had come to the conclusion that the biggest betrayal would be to use the law against him. but instead she had to face him head on. and with all the deaths that happened when she hesitated another precious person died, the only one that completely understood her. like pul-do had the look in his eyes that no matter what, he was going in front of the bullet to protect her. like the happy ending was right there. and it was snatched so freaking quick. the end with her visiting the graves…it was not the ending i signed up for.…anyways ramble over and i would give it a 9.5 out of 10. ready for a season two if possible, please.

lovers of the red sky. a historical drama with fantasy. sign me up fam. i loved this one. my dude ahn hyo-seop is a part of this cast, which automatically intrigued me. we follow cheon-ki a female painter, and the first female in the academy at the palace for painting. her father currently, not in a well state was previously the palace’s official painter. ha ram, played by hyo-seop, is an officer at seowoongwan in charge of astronomy and such. he is currently blind due to an accident that we know happened to be the same day that cheon-ki could finally see, because at birth she was blind. the fantasy aspect goes deep and is too much to explain. but all was well in the end and everyone has their perspective eyes at the end. and cheon-ki and ha-ram have a happy ending. i would give this drama an 8.5 out of 10

yumi’s cells. this was a top tier drama 10 out of 10. i was surprised by how much i enjoyed the incorporation of the animation to the live action. it was hilarious. heart breaking. and an incredible insight into the minds of our main characters. we follow yu-mi who works an office job and meets woong a video game designer who lives life a little differently than her. it shows how an unexpected relationship flourishes and dies. it was a great drama, and i am sooooo ready for another season. i know the whole premise of the show was about yu-mi but gosh darn i really thought our two main characters were going to end up together (especially after the heart break i experienced watching bo-hyun’s character die in ‘my name’ i really wanted this for him.) anyways, yu-mi was the main character and that’s that. it was great. made me laugh and cry. i freaking love the cells. they were hilarious. ALSO HATED that it was 14 episodes…little old me thinking i had at least 2 episodes left only to be left in the dust and a puddle of tears.

the king’s affection. everyone this was a great great drama. and not just because monday and tuesday became rowoon appreciation night, i fell in love with nam yoonsu. this man. frick i was willing to let him be the main lead. like i never feel this way. like oh yeah second male lead it’s chill i will stay away. but dang i was ready to flip the script. and byung-chan was also in this drama. like my goodness. it was great. okay now to the actual premise. we follow a story in joseon, the crown prince’s wife gave birth to twins, but twins are not a good thing in the palace. so lee hwi is born and raised in the palace, and da-mi was supposed to be killed off but the mother begged to save her. years later da-mi returns to the palace as a maid and meets jung ji-un (rowoon), she saves him from drowning and they become quick friends. lee hwi finds da-mi and realizes they look alike and wants to switch places. they switch and gosh darn the bad guys don’t kill da-mi, they kill lee hwi. uh oh. but the bad guys are silly and don’t know they killed the wrong twin…so not to get in trouble because of the switch a handful of people protect da-mi and she has to acclimate to living in the palace as her now dead twin brother. years later, jung ji-un returns as her tutuor, having her waiver in her seat. lots of things happen, and i’m just like how does no one know this. (ji-un is a dummy and doesn’t figure any of this out, kind of has inkling ideas but is a dummy and needs someone to spell it out.) strange how they were actually able to hide it. but then we find out that the dead prince’s bestie lee-hyun (nam yoon-su) knew all the freaking long and loves da-mi. wild. it’s full of twists and turns, and deception from the court. we love to hate it. our girl ends up faking her death and lives a happily ever after with jung ji-un. and lee-hyun becomes freaking king. definitely a 9.5 out of 10

another gif because i love this man.

happiness. this was an interesting one, it is the first drama that i have watched the mentioned covid. quite a unique start. we follow our yi-hyun (our dude park hyung-sik) who is a detective and wants to protect his friend/love sae-bom. they’ve known each other since high school. they marry because she is determined to have her own place, and to get the apartment she has to do this to earn the credit from the police bureau. in the midst of the move to their new high-rise apartment an outbreak strikes the complex. we see people of diverse backgrounds have to work together and eventually kind of kill off one another. the fear and distrust that ensues is something else. like what is the likelihood of having multiple murders in your apartment building? and on the outside, is tae-seok who worked with sae-bom, and is a health service commander. and he is at the center of trying to find the cure and help keep control of the state. i would rate it a 9 out of 10. i enjoyed seeing all the various characters, and how yi-hyun and sae-bom finally realized that they loved each other. i loved it. also thankful we got a good ending, because dang as it kept getting darker in the concept i was like, frick it’s called happiness but the title is literally fading away will all the happiness fade away and we will be left with nothing?!

extracurricular. y’all this one was intense, and dark. i was intrigued having just finished ‘the kings affection’ and being obsessed with nam yoon-su...so you know if was going to be next on the list. we follow a high schooler, ji-soo, who works as a pimp because he desperately needs money to go to university after high school. but he creates an app, that protects his app users; which is a unique and strange take in this dangerous life. everything gets twisted and he ends up in business with a classmate, gyu-ri who he has a crush on, and then everything basically goes to poop. and it ends on a cliff hanger at episode 10, which i thought i was getting more then i didn’t so yeah...didn’t appreciate that ending. i would still give it a 7.5 out of 10

melancholia. oh my goodness you knew this was going to have to be on a rewind because my dude, lee do-freaking-hyun is in this drama. so it has to be golden. this one will probably have its own review because dang a lot of feelings and thoughts. i honestly was nervous at the start because no matter how much i love lee do-hyun, i am not jumping on board a teacher/under-aged student trope. but i loved how we saw the timeline jump and how everything fell apart and then together again. i rate this drama a 10 out of 10.

the silent sea. DUDE this was insane! so this one takes place in the future, where the world is in dire need of water. a crew from korea goes to an abandoned research facility on the moon on hunt for water. well it becomes majorly twisted and dark, because this lunar water not only produces more water but takes over any life form and proceeds to drown the life out of it. it was a wild ride, with so many twists and turns, and hidden discoveries and bad guys. and hello this cast was PERFECT, and hello gong yoo was in this so you know it’s good. i would definitely recommend this drama because it is something i haven’t seen. i would rate it a 9 out of 10.

#korean drama #review #kdrama #kpop #unforgettable love #hometown cha cha cha #lovers of the red sky #police university #my name #yumi's cells #the king's affection #happiness #extracurricular #melancholia #the silent sea

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

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I just finished reading The Ties that Bind, and I love it! I have a small suggestion, one that you could completely ignore if you would like. Will Fable, Legend’s Zelda, meet Sky? Or Sky and the rest of the chain? I feel like that would be fun. But this is just an idea that I had, I’m not pressuring you do to anything.

I'm sorry it took so long to get to your ask, Anon! I've been thinking about this for a while, and the truth is that, while I would LOVE to have Sky meet all of his daughters at some point, I don't know if it will happen in the main plot of the story itself.

Currently in the story, they are in Legend's Hyrule, so there is a good chance of it happening, I just don't know if it will.

Considering this came along with various fic requests, I did end up writing something where they 'meet' but.. I'm terribly sorry, it's entirely crack, and I took way too many liberties with it.

I hope it will do to hold you over until Fable can make an actual appearance in the story!

“So, we finally get to meet your sister?” Hyrule asked, following as Legend led their group down the halls of Hyrule castle.

“Yes.”

“Yes!” Wind pumped his fists. “The only Zelda we haven’t met! I wonder what she’s like?”

“Kickass.” Legend smirked, stopping before one of the opulent doors and turning to face them. “I’d watch yourselves.”

There were a lot of things the Chain was expecting to see when they walked through the doors, but Warriors wasn’t expecting to see a young woman who looked quite ridiculously like Legend, if not for the haircut, spinning around to see look at them before having a wide smile break over her face.

“Z?”

“Link!” And the princess was running, running forwards with feather soft, tinkling laughter into the arms of...Wild? “Oh, Link! I haven’t seen you in ages! Why, look at you! Growing your hair out I see.” Another giggle drifted into the air as the girl brushed a hand through the Champion’s messy bangs.

Wild flushed slightly, much to the shock of all present, but especially to Legend, who stared between the two with his mouth hanging open.

“Everyone’s missed you so terribly, especially after you disappeared so suddenly! The Master was absolutely furious.” Fable added with a nervous laugh, smacking Wild’s arm lightly. “Thank goodness I can tell him all is well and you didn’t get killed or something, we thought he’d oust Robin for good when we couldn’t find you!”

Wild winced, nodding slightly. “I’m on another quest, but maybe I can send a letter? The mail system is working pretty well, for some reason.”

“Not out of Hyrule unfortunately.” Fable pouted, seemingly taking no interest in noticing the rest of them for the moment, instead continuing to stand in Wild’s personal space, neither having quite let go from their unexpected and rather startling hug. “Without you, the Master has closed all contact with Hyrule; I don’t think he wanted anything else to happen, especially since Mother would have been furious if someone else had gone missing.”

“Wait,” Warriors turned to see Wind staring at the- couple? Duo? “Zelly?”

“Tune!” Fable squeaked, pulling away from Wild and darting over to hug the second smallest hero. “My goodness you’ve grown! Are the two of you on an adventure together then? Wonderful!” Ocean blue eyes trailed up to look at the rest of their gang and Fable brightened even more. “Why, all of you are here!”

“All of us?” He couldn’t keep confusion from his tone as he spoke, quirking a brow.

“Well, nearly all,” Fable frowned, setting Wind down to gently stroke her chin. “And here I hoped to see Young Link again.”

Warriors was going to lose his mind. “Young Link?” His eyes turned to Time, who smiled with a light flush, raising one hand in a nearly shy wave.

“Hey, Zelly.”

The princess gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth as she stared upwards to meet Time’s gaze. “Young Link? My. Goodness! Look- Oh my! You’re all grown up, aren’t you? I declare, you get even more terrifying than half of the others!”

“Legend,” Sky was grinning as bright and warm as the princess, eyes sparkling in the same manner and erasing any doubt that he was the young woman’s ancestor. “You didn’t tell us your sister was The Princess Zelda!”

Legend stared up at his ancestor in disbelief before shaking off Sky’s hands and throwing up his own. “That’s it,” The vet spun on his heel and turned towards the door. “I’m gonna go bang my head against the wall for an hour, toodles.”

“Well,” Fable turned to Sky with a bright grin. “It is wonderful to see you again, Link. Good heavens, how on earth do all of you handle being ‘Link’, it was bad enough having you all switch out, but now you’re all together at once! How do you handle it?”

“I go by Sky,” The Skyloftian replied with a fond smile. “He’s Wild, Wind, and Time. We use our hero titles.”

“Oh! That is clever! Sheik and I both have different names, so I suppose had it easy, I’m surprised no one thought of that before, what with how you all switched out so often- oh!” And the princess was spinning around to look up at Twi. “We’ve missed you too of course, but I must ask, since you’re all apparently time-traveling or some nonsense, could you give a message to your Zelda for me? I haven’t seen her in ever so long, and I do miss being able to talk over things with her.”

“I’ll pass it along.”

“You too.” She turned to Time, brows furrowing lightly. “Sheif is so terrible about writing to me, and I’ve missed being able to ask for advice with my fighting skills.”

“Understood.” Time grinned, earning a mirror expression from the princess.

How the heck was everyone taking this all in stride? Was Legend’s sister...dating Wild or some shit? How did she know Wind and Time? How did she know Sky? How did she know any of them?

“So,” Twilight cocked a hip and stared down at the princess with a warm smile. “They let you stay around, even after switching out all of us?”

“Yep! I am, apparently, quite the favorite. As is L- I mean Wild.” She sent a warm smile towards said hero, who flushed with pleasure. Ew.

“Should’a known it, he's a good kid.”

“He says you mentored him, so I suppose that can be attributed, in part, to you!”

“Aw, thanks, Zelly.”

Warriors would like a drink now please.

“Wait,” Four stared at the princess, eyes slitted and brows furrowed in a way that revealed he was clearly having a headache as well. “You’re- good grief- you know all of us, don’t you?”

Warriors really needs a drink. Seriously? Four too?

“And who are you?” Fable cocked her head.

Four flushed, ducking his head. “Hero of the Four Sword.”

Like a switch had been flipped, recognition sparked in Fable’s gaze. “Oh! That- that makes sense! I had forgotten, I suppose, how you all- well-” She waved her hand vaguely, and while none of the others seemed to understand it (thank Hylia he wasn’t the only one), Four apparently did. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Heavens no!” Fable drew back, looking mildly offended. “Link- my Link- or rather, my brother- Good heavens, what on earth do you all call him?”

“Idiot. Pain in the ass. Veteran.” Warriors listed off, making sure his displeasure with being left out of the conversation was made very clear.

“Legend.” Hyrule answered, shooting a glare Warriors’ way.

“Legend, my, that fits,” Fable shook her head with another tinkling laugh. “Does the same thing, albeit in a different manner and without the use of the Four Sword.”

“Heard that!” Legend shouted from just outside the room. “Stop telling them things!”

“Then come in here and make me, you sissy!”

The vet stormed back in, cheeks red and brow looking considerably more bruised than it had been ten minutes previous. “Not a sissy.”

“Yet you only appear on occasion, and never fight?” The princess snarked, hands on her hips.

“Do I look like I have the time to be fighting?” Legend returned, mirroring her pose with enough attitude to match the blue flames of the princess’s gaze.

“Well, if you have time to play dress up-”

“Necessary for a mission, miss ‘I fight duels in my regalia’.”

“I win duels in my regalia, thank you very much.”

“Heck yeah you do.” And was that- pride in the vet’s voice? “You scare the shit out of all of them.”

“I always was the better of the two of us at doing that, you just spend your time talking to cuckos and wearing my clothes.” The princess smirked.

Legend didn’t even have the decency to flush, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “You have to admit, I look better in it than you do.”

“Yes.” Fable beamed. “Yes, you do, and I hate it.” Her smile said the opposite but the conversation seemed to be over at that, the princess turning to continue conversing with the other heroes only to spin around again and clap her hands. “Oh! You're off exploring and adventuring, so you drop a message for me! Tell Peach and Daisy that I’m awful sorry I missed tea last time, we’ve been trying for weeks to get around to it, but with L- Wild having disappeared, the Master simply won’t give me the free time and Mother’s been just as strict.”

Legend pouted. “Only if they’re the only ones home, if I have to see that insufferable plumber’s face again I think I might just punch him.”

“Please do.” Fable spat. “He used that stupid hat of his to mind control me and make me kick the crap out of my team.”

“He mind controlled my sister?” Legend hissed.

“Yes, that dumb hat of his is sentient now, and he can force us to do things.”

“I hate that thing.” Wild scowled.

“Same.” Several others echoed.

Sky looked between them all. “Are we talking about Mario? Because if so, Legend, I will totally join you in punching him in the face, that guy is a pain!”

“Oh, him!” Hyrule scowled. “I don’t like him; he grates on my nerves like nobody's business.”

“He’s worse than Tingle.” Wind added, face screwed up in distain.

“Seconded.” Twilight and Time called out together.

“Third, Fourth, Fifth and sixthed.” Four added.

“Just because your name is ‘Four’ doesn’t mean you get four votes.” Warriors groaned, staring at his companions in irritation. “And who the heck are you all talking about? How do all of you know him? Is he immortal?”

“Hylia, I hope not.” Nine voices groaned at once.

“Neighboring kingdom.” Legend replied. “The Mushroom kingdom’s own hero is an idiot plumber by the name of Mario. His twin isn’t bad, but he’s a piece of work. I’ve had to deal with outbreaks of monsters from their kingdom on multiple occasions because he can’t keep them contained. Add in there that their princess is captured every other Tuesday because the guy can’t up and beat her kidnapper for good, and the kingdoms a mess.” Legend paused, frowning. “Wait, I just agreed to go there, didn’t I?”

“Yep.” Fable chirped. “But don’t worry, Bowser is hanging out with his kids this weekend, so he shouldn’t be causing problems while you’re all here.”

Warriors groaned, this time, loud enough that all of them heard him. “Bowser? Are you on a familiar enough standing with some villain that he tells you his weekend plans?”

“Yes.” The twin siblings answered, Fable bright and cherry while Legend deadpanned.

“We even play sports with him on occasion.” Fable added.

“And who,” Warriors tacked on, absolutely done and uncaring for the fact that apparently Legend and Fable played golf or something with their neighboring kingdoms greatest threat. “The heck! Is Mario?”

Nine pairs of eyes stared back at him for a moment, blinking in confusion.

“You know,” Twilight stated slowly. “Has anyone actually ever seen Wars at an event?”

“Come to think of it,” Fable tapped her chin. “You are the only one I’ve never seen before.”

“The only one?” Can Warriors please get a drink?

“I’ve met all of the others, be it in racing, sports, fighting matches, any number of things, but I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you, much less heard of you. Who are you?”

“That,” Legend smirked. “Is the Hero of Warriors. And I don’t know if I should laugh or feel bad that he was never popular enough to get selected for the games.”

“You weren’t either.” Wind hissed.

“Mom said I was on bed rest from being struck by lightning.” Legend waved him off. “I’ve had my time in the Mushroom kingdom, and if they ever do invite me back, I’d burn that Smash invite so fast the Master would think it never arrived.”

That’s it. He’s done. “Legend, I’m stealing your thunder-”

“Please do.”

“I’m going to go bang my head against the wall until the world makes sense again, or until I black out, Bye.” And with that, Warriors left.

(This entire fic was inspired by @tortilla-of-courage, her blog had a stint of asks about the boys knowing each other from Mario Kart and whatnot and it set my brain spinning. I blame her that this was the only thing I could think of when trying to write Sky meeting Fable. Thank's Tortilla!)

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shreddedparchment · 4 years ago

Text

Tamales and Christmas Lights

12/21/2020

Pairing: Steve x Mexican American Reader Word Count: 6,838

Warnings: light smut, talks of having kids, language, drinking

A/N: This is the first time I have ever written anything for a specific type of reader. I don’t usually write for a specific race or ethnicity because I can’t speak as to the intimacy of living in that person’s shoes. By this I mean more of a family life. I’m eager to learn but for now, I will write what I know and that is a reader of my own background. I hope I don’t alienate anyone too much and that you all enjoy the story for what it is. There is a bit of Spanish in this one, but so long as you read all of the dialogue what is said is explained in English shortly after. Anyway, I’m SUPER nervous about this one, and it’s a little on the short side but I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for your support! xoxo

“What do you do for the Holidays?”

Steve stiffens for a moment beneath you, bringing your gaze up to his sleepy face.

It’s so late and he’d only just got in an hour ago. Probably on the verge of sleep when you’d asked your quests.

“What?” There’s stress in his eyes and you’re sorry to interrupt the peace of the moment.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” He rubs your shoulder, large hands trying to coax you back down onto his chest where you’d been laying with your head cradled underneath his chin.

“You’re lying. And you haven’t answered my question.”

Steve sighs and shakes his head, “Nothing. That’s what I do for the Holidays. I don’t do anything. I should probably change that since Buck is finally back. But I think I overheard Sam making plans to drag him to some party and I’m not up for that.”

“Oh…” You deflate, laying your head back on his chest but he notices the disappointment in your voice and he pushes you up again.

When you don’t move, he forces himself up, pulling back until he can rest against the headboard of your bed. You’re also made to sit up but Steve leans forward to guide you close to his body so that you’re practically straddling him.

“What did you have in mind? That wasn’t an empty oh.” He notices.

You shake your head, suddenly terrified to bring it up.

“Come on, baby, don’t leave me wondering. I’ll assume the worst.” He reminds you.

You smile, appreciating the way he reaches up to grab your chin and give your head a little shake. You probably shouldn’t like it but you love the way he makes these small gestures of possessiveness over you.

There’s something feral within you that purrs into submission when he claims you so openly. You’re his. Heart and soul. He knows it already even though it’s only been a few months of being together.

You fist his white shirt, wrinkling it as you pull him closer and kiss him sweetly despite the aggression in your hands.

There’s just something about him that makes you want to just squeeze him! Like that feeling you get when you see a tiny puppy or kitty and you just wanna hug it and squeeze it and love it to death.

He huffs a small laugh at your reaction, though he doesn’t understand it.

“What was that for?”

You lick your lips, kissing him once more before leaning back and releasing his poor shirt.

“You know you’re mine, right?” You ask him, eyes fixed on his pretty face.

You’re not a fan of the bruising around his left cheekbone, but the rest of him is just as perfect as ever.

“And you’re mine,” he assures you. “And if anyone tries to take you away…”

The implications are tantalizing but you don’t linger there. You laugh and shake your head, turning to the windows of his room to watch the heavy snowfall.

It’s freezing outside. It makes you shiver and you pull yourself closer to Steve, wrapping your arms around him by hooking them underneath his own. You ball yourself up in his lap as best you can and rest your head against his chest again as his own arms come back around you, large hands splayed out on your back as he rubs it to give you warmth and comfort.

“Why did you ask me about the holidays, babe?” he presses.

“I want to take you home with me,” that’s the truth. “My grandma has been asking me when I’m going to get married and maybe if they see I have a big strong boyfriend she and the rest of my aunts will leave me alone.”

Steve huffs another laugh, “Are they seriously asking you when you’re getting married?”

“Yeah,” with a nod, you push up again despite being completely at peace in Steve’s arms. “They’ve been asking since I graduated high school.”

“That’s odd,” he observes and you can see how it might be to others. “It’s always been like that in my family. My grandma got married when she was seventeen. Same for my mom. Had kids pretty quickly too. So, they’re kinda waiting for me to do the same. Because getting married and having kids is what I’m supposed to do.”

“Do you want to get married and have kids?” Steve’s hands stroke your hips, a small movement of passive affection.

He’s eager to give you all the touch you want in private but you know to keep things a little more tame in front of others. Steve isn’t big into the P.D.A.

“Eventually I guess. I don’t know. It’s not a question I feel like I need to answer right now. I’m a little more sure about the marriage than the kids but I’ve got lots of time to think about it.” you shrug.

“Yeah, we’ve got lots of time,” he asserts and your heart shoots into your throat, stomach twisting with fluttering wings that make it feel like you’re doing somersaults.

“We?” you smile, despite yourself.

“I wanna marry you eventually, I thought you knew that?”

“No,” you laugh.

“Oh, well now you know.”

“You can’t just spring that on me, Steve!”

He laughs now, hooking his hands behind your knees and yanks you closer. You’re right on him, and as you settle, you feel a familiar stirring between your bodies as the exhaustion of the mission wears off and his eagerness to show you how much he missed you becomes obvious.

“I think I just did,” he teases. “If you want to take me to meet your family, I am more than happy to come along. We have been together almost a year, it’s about time I think.”

“A year?” you gasp, realizing that it hasn’t been a few months after all.

Time with Steve is so much like a dream that it feels like it’s passed in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, we hooked up in that closet off the shooting range on New Year’s Eve, remember?”

“Okay, first of all, hooked up? You’re spending too much time with Sam and Bucky.”

Your face heats up, neck burning and ears probably hot to the touch as the memory of you half drunk finding Steve alone in that shooting range.

You’d confessed recklessly and Steve had practically tackled you into the wall when he’d realized you were serious, despite being tipsy.

The frenzy that had followed that first kiss had been uncontrollable and he’d maneuvered you both into the bathroom and then pounded into you with you pinned between him and the counter.

You can still remember the shock of cold smooth concrete under your naked butt.

The next day, Steve had sought you out to tell you that he liked you too and that he wanted to take you out properly and that he was sorry for letting himself get out of hand the night before.

You responded by accepting his invitation but then luring him into your bedroom to ride him until he was breathless and groaning with satisfaction and you were twitching from reaching a third climax.

Your love with Steve has always been rooted in a very physical connection but over time, the emotional depth has increased exponentially and you’re best friends now, as well as lovers.

Now he’s here, remind you of that very beginning and telling you that it’s time to meet your family?

“You don’t have to go, Steve. My grandma will probably ask you a million questions and the rest of my family will be just as nosy and loud. We can get kind of rowdy when we get all together.”

The last thing you want to do is chas him off with an overbearing family, but at the same time...you love them! If he’s going to be in your life, he needs to accept them too, right?

What if he can’t? What will that mean for the two of you?

“Growing up it was just me and my mom,” Steve explains, stroking the length of your arms. “A big family is just what I need, I think.”

You watch him as he leans forward, his lips finding that stupid spot on your neck that always makes you melt.

As his tongue darts out, tracing a small circle, you absolutely collapse against him, arms wrapping up around his shoulders loosely, eyes very slightly rolling into the back of your head.

“Are you sure?”

“So sure,” he whispers, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on your skin.

He pulls you down against his stiffened cock and you moan as he throws you back onto the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Steve urges, reaching over to place his hand in yours so that you can stop pulling and tugging at your own fingers.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, staring at the peach colored house with bright red trimming around every window and the bright red doorway. It’s absolutely covered in lights, twinkling in different colors. Traditional tiny lights but then around the tree in the front yard are huge bulbs, green, blue, yellow, and red.

They’re novelty lights? You’re not sure if that’s what they are, but you find them silly. Your grandpa’s idea probably.

Your grandmother’s house hasn’t changed one bit since you were little. The only thing that changes are the cars parked along the street, the large rose bushes along the front porch are bare.

Several green hard plastic chairs line the front wall angled oddly as someone had most likely been sitting there last night. Aunts and uncles, your mom and dad probably talking late into the night.

Even sitting in the car, with the engine idling, doors shut tight, you can already hear one of your aunts laughing her head off inside the house. The shouts of kids playing also reach your very normal ears. Steve must be able to hear everything.

“Do you think they won’t like me?” Steve worries, and now it’s your turn to turn and soothe his nerves.

“Oh, no, Steve. That’s not why. I know they’ll love you. I’m just afraid of what they’ll say. Or that they’ll smother you. I haven’t exactly told anyone in my family that I’m dating anyone much less…”

The two of you never talk about his official title. Who he is. Even though he’s retired in many ways, he’s still the first. Sam might be Captain America now, but everyone knows Steve as the original Captain America. There isn’t a person on this planet that doesn’t know who he is.

Normally, it doesn’t matter. To you, he’s just Steve Rogers. Super soldier, for sure, but just a man that swept you off your feet with his sweetness and kindness and okay, those damn shoulders and his ass is biteable. But he’s just Steve!

Your family will see the title first, you’re sure of it. They’ll see Captain America.

“Are they not big Captain America fans?” his teasing is gentle and innocent.

“Steve!” you shut your eyes and chuckle, “ I’m seriously so worried.”

“I can take it, hon. I’m a big boy. Come on, let’s get in there. I wanna meet your grandma.”

Suddenly he throws his door open and steps out of the car, shutting it off as he goes.

“Wait!” you gasp, scurrying to get out with him.

You scamper around the car until you’re beside him and take hold of his hand. He pulls you towards the door confidently but you let go of his hand and rush forward before he can reach it.

Fixing your hair, you push the door open and are immediately assaulted by the smell of spicy menudo. It makes your mouth water. The smell of spices and pine sol. Fabuloso is mixed in there too, your mom’s idea to mix the two cleansers together and use them to make a unique smelling concoction that gets the linoleum floors cleaner than if you used one or the other.

The low sofas are covered in shining clear plastic, no doubt put in place by your grandma just before all the family began to arrive. The flat screen is decorated with a simple green garland, beside the TV console is a low table where the remote sits on a lace doily, underneath in a wooden pocket are several magazines and underneath the pocket on the base of the table sits a blue round tin of butter cookies that no doubt has all of your grandma’s sewing things instead of the treats it promises.

The house isn’t big. In fact, it’s on the small side. The large master bedroom is situated at the back of the house along with the bathroom, past the kitchen where you can see the light on all of your aunts sitting around the table exchanging their respective chisme and keeping their hands busy with something you can’t see.

From the hallway to your right where the only two guest rooms are located along with a second half bath come running two of your younger cousins. They’re children still, your youngest Tia’s kids.

They don’t even notice you as you stop walking, choosing to run instead towards the back door in the distance past the kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom.

One of your other aunts, the second oldest, turns her head as they run behind her.

“Que chingaos les dije?! Stop running in and out or I’m gonna kick your asses!” She yells at them, but the kids ignore her and disappear through the door. It slams shut behind them.

“Lulu, no les puedes decir algo?! They keep running in and out of here like wild animals.” Your second eldest aunt demands.

“They’re just playing, leave them alone.” Your Tia Lulu waves her sister off.

To your right you finally notice the centerpiece of the living room, a huge christmas tree with red, blue, and green glass ornaments. The lights are white, twinkling in different patterns, tinsel covering every branch to an obscene amount. At the top sits an old porcelain angel that your grandmother had once told you she’d received from her own grandmother and had actually been made in Mexico by some nun at an old church that had been knocked down a long time ago to make room for a cattle ranch.

The base of the tree is almost completely obscured by the dozens and dozens of presents from very large to very small. Each one is addressed to one or other member of the family. The kids especially all get gifts from each of your uncles and aunts.

You take another step towards the kitchen only to be stopped again as the restroom in the hallway to your right flushes and from inside it emerges your grandfather, buckling his belt as he lumbers out.

“Grandpa,” you call to him excitedly and he whips his head up then beams at the sight of you.

“Mijita bonita, cuando llegaste? Aye, chula…” His words fade out as he reaches you with his arms outstretched and pulls you into a quick tight hug.

His large hands pat you on the back several times before he kisses your cheek. He brings his hands to your shoulders and pushes you back a little to get a look at you.

“When did you get here?” he repeats, and gives your arms a squeeze.

“Just now,” you begin, but as you’d hugged your grandpa had turned you around and Steve moves in behind him.

He meets your eyes, shrinking a little, drawing his shoulders in to make himself smaller in the very normal person sized house.

“Grandpa, uh, I have um...this is my boyfriend, Steve,” with one arm extended you gesture towards the super soldier standing by the door.

“Steve?! ¿Trajiste un gringo?”

Your grandpa whips around, searching at average height level for the white boy you’ve brought and finds himself face to face with Steve’s chest.

He adjusts quickly, finding Steve’s face and with a gasp, he slams his hand over his heart and laughs.

“That’s Captain America!” he laughs.

The declaration brings the kitchen to a pause and like dominoes all of your aunts rise one by one, moving into the doorway of the kitchen to catch a glimpse at the commotion in the living room.

More gasps follow and soon you can’t hear yourself think as they all break into a cacophony of excited chatter.

Your Tia Lulu is the first to shove her way through, as she’s the youngest, she smiles at Steve flirtatiously before shoving your grandpa out of the way.

“Move aside, dad! Hello, hi. I’m Consuela but everyone calls me Lulu. You can call me sweetheart.” She throws out her tongue as she laughs, a clear joke but Steve good naturedly takes her hand and shakes it, a shy but kind smile on his handsome face.

“Oh my God, Tia, stop,” you plead.

“I’m just kidding, werca fregada. Don’t get your panties all in a twist.” She swats at you while your grandpa retreats to the sofa where he must have been sitting before, stuffing fives, tens, and twenties into envelopes for the kids.

Grandma and Grandpa never get anyone anything. They just put money in envelopes for the kids.

As your aunts file in, all five of them, you wait until Steve looks at you to bite your bottom lip and mouth a quick apology.

He shakes his head, setting your heart at ease as your aunts circle around him talking fast and occasionally asking him a question or two which he answers readily.

“A year.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’m not Captain America anymore.”

“Consulting mostly.”

“Yeah, I-I have my own place.”

“It’s a rental.”

Your aunts gasp at that in particular, “Ooh, it’s a rental. Those can be so expensive. Did you get the insurance?”

“Uh, well, no. I didn’t mean, it’s actually one of Tony’s-Stark. He had it set aside for us when he found out we were coming to visit.”

The madness reignites at the mention of Iron Man and as they plunge into more questions, your turn just in time as your mom makes her way over to you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” she wraps you up in her arms and you hug her back, holding it for a little longer than you normally would but you’ve been so stressed with bringing Steve here that you feel a relief wash over you not only because she’s there to help you, but to finally have it happening means you can stop the anticipation.

“I’m sorry, mom. I decided to get him down here super last minute and I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Where’s dad?”

“He’s out back with your tios. Drinking already,” she shakes her head but there’s no surprise there from anyone. “They’ve got the pit going. Chicken and fajitas to go with the menudo.”

“It smells so freaking good,” you laugh.

“Is he really your boyfriend? How long has this been going on? How come you haven’t told me?”

The hurt in your mom’s voice is subtle but you hear it and lament it.

“I was going to tell you. Every time I called. But at first it was too new and then after that I just didn’t know how to explain it to you. I know you hate my job. Now I’m dating a former Avenger?”

It’s her turn to look apologetic.

“Mija, you could have told me. I do hate that you put yourself in harm’s way, but that’s your job. No mom is going to like that.”

She takes a moment to glance at Steve, then with a flick of her eyebrows and a quick nod in his direction, she scoots closer, “Isn’t he like super old?”

You laugh and nod.

“He’s older than grandpa,” She laughs with you as you whisper, Steve giving you two a quick glance.

“He doesn’t look it,” your mom admits.

A tiny upturn to the corner of his lip tells you he can hear everything you’re saying.

“Is it serious?” She asks, letting you steer her towards the kitchen as her probing continues.

Inside the kitchen you find the entire kitchen table cleared of the usual place mats and ceramic Jesus centerpiece to make room for the bowls of masa, cooked seasoned pork and chicken for the filling of what will be tomorrow’s tamales.

At the stove you see your grandma a well worn lime green apron tied tightly around her waist and neck, huddled over the very tall and large pot, stirring and adding seasoning to the murky russet soup inside.

“I hope that has lots of posole!”

Your grandma turns at your voice and her face lights up.

“Mijita, chula!” she gushes, rushing forward to wrap her arms around you and kiss your cheek with a loud smack.

“Hi, grandma, I missed you so much,” you realize, hugging her tight.

“Por qué no nos dijiste que ibas a venir? Werca, cabrona!” she smacks you hard and you laugh, holding her hands as she pulls back to look at you. “You need to eat more.”

“Grandma, I’m eating fine,” you laugh, amused by the direction her thoughts go.

“She brought a boy home, mom,” your mom gives you away, then sticks her tongue out at you as she replaces her mother’s place at the pot.

“Mom!”

“You brought a boy?” she’s ecstatic! “A boyfriend?”

“Yes, he’s a boyfriend.”

“What’s his name?” she starts wiping her hands on her apron, cleaning them up to meet Steve.

“His name is Steve.”

“Es un gringo?!” her exclamation of surprise is just like grandpa’s.

“Yes, he’s white, does it matter?”

“Pos, no. It doesn’t matter, as long as he’s nice to you. Is he good to you?”

“He’s the best, grandma. He insists on taking me out every Friday to eat and watch a movie.”

Well, every Friday that you or he aren’t on mission. And it’s such a small thing but you know it’ll make her happy to know that he takes you out.

“Ooh, that’s good,” she approves. “Does he have a good job?”

“He’s a consultant where I work.”

“With the Avengers?” she gasps.

“Yeah.”

“A consultant? What does that mean? Is he a nerd?”

You laugh, throwing your head back, “He’s the biggest nerd, though he’ll never admit it.”

“Well, andale, let’s go meet your boyfriend,” she pushes you towards the doorway and you make to lead the way. “Is it serious?”

She whispers the second question, though you know that Steve will be able to hear.

Is it serious? “I uh…”

“Ayt! Don’t you all have husbands?”

Saving Steve from your aunts, your grandma moves forward and pushes and pulls and slaps them away from him, shoving them back towards the kitchen.

“Esos tamales no se van hacer solos.”

“Ow, mom! Stop hitting us,” your eldest aunt Margarita frowns.

��Magge, no te da verguenza?”

“Why should I be embarrassed?! Have you seen her boyfriend? Steve, do you like older women?” your Tia throws back at him as your other aunts push past you, patting you in the back and whispering congratulations at your luck.

“Technically I’m older,” he calls and everyone looks at him, not talking, apparently in shock at the fact that he truly is over a hundred years old.

“Oh my God, your boyfriend is Captain America?!” your grandma realizes, turning to slap your shoulder lightly for not explaining yourself.

Everyone bursts into laughter, the chatter moving into the kitchen as you join the laughter, Steve smiling from ear to ear as your mom rushes back out, eager to meet him.

Grandma pulls him into a hug and he gently returns it, smiling politely as she gushes over how handsome he is and how tall and then getting angry at you for not feeding him before admiring the exquisite shape of his body.

“Your grandpa had a body like this when he was young, mija,” grandma assures you. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Probably all the tamales,” you tease and she smacks you gently again before laughing in genuine amusement.

~~~~~~~~~~

You can’t find Steve anywhere. The kids are all inside, watching Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the living room, crowded around the flat screen with expressions that range from amusement to boredom.

Mostly it’s the older kids that are tired of the claymation film. They’ve seen it every year since they were old enough to sit up.

“Should I change it?” you wander in from the front, your Tias laughing as the door shuts behind you cutting the sound off.

One of the things you’d missed was the happiness that filled the house this time of year. Even though they fight like cats, it’s cats that are sisters and love each other deep down.

They always end up laughing again eventually.

Your cousin Claudia sits up at your offer, “Yes! Put something else on!”

“No!” the littler ones revolt.

“Even if it’s Elf?”

You stop by the TV, remote already in hand and all of their eyes light right up.

“Okay, okay, put Elf!”

Their accents make you smile. Like you, they’d probably grown up speaking mostly spanish as a toddler and then as you’d started school, English had begun to push in as your default leaving you with a heavy accent for a few years.

Now it’s almost completely gone and only emerges when you shout angrily, or so Steve says.

As the opening narration begins, you catch Claudia’s eyes and give her the remote, “Have you seen Steve?”

“Captain America?” she smirks, getting a serious kick out of your choice of boyfriend.

But you’d also seen her all flustered when she’d met him. She thinks he’s hot and honestly, he is so you can’t blame her. At sixteen, she’s lost almost all of her bashfulness.

“Yes, Steve. Have you seen him?”

“He went out back with Tio, I think.”

“My dad?!” you gasp, already terrified of what they might be talking about.

“Yeah, he looked nervous. You should probably go save him from Tio’s interrogation.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you throw at her, already moving towards the back door in a hurry.

The inside of the house is toasty warm, especially with the tamales cooking and the menudo on low heat to keep it warm in case anyone wants thirds or fourths.

“Where are you going?” your mom asks as you pass by.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, across from your grandma talking in hushed tones.

“To get Steve, Claudia said he was with dad.”

“Well, leave them alone, I’m sure he’s being nice.”

Your grandma laughs and you shove the door open and disappear back out into the chilly winter night.

Wrapping your arms around yourself to combat the chill that begins to set in, you scan the backyard and move past your tios sitting around the clearly diy firepit one of them had built for your grandparents, each one knocking back a beer in either bottle or can.

They’re not as loud as your tias but they’re still talking loudly, laughing and then arguing over the superbowl.

“No manches, guey. That linebacker doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He should have stayed in Atlanta.”

You tune them out as you spot Steve and your dad standing by the table of barbecue a little further out by the back corner of the chain link fence.

Steve is standing with one hand on the tongs, flipping over some of the leftover chicken your grandma asked your dad to cook since someone will eat it eventually.

They’re talking, both in deep conversation until Steve smiles and seems to relax. Your dad, who stands at five feet, nine inches in height, has to reach up to clap Steve on the shoulder then smiles too, both of them turning their focus on the chicken.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, moving towards them with purposeful steps.

Both of them look up as you approach and immediately Steve hands your dad the tongs before moving towards you and peeling off his black leather jacket.

“Hon, why are you out here without a coat? It’s cold.” he says sweetly.

He can’t feel the temperature like you can but he can tell when you’re cold.

“Dad? What are you two doing out here?”

You’re so suspicious of your dad, worried he might be saying things to hurt Steve, but both of them look happy even.

“I’m showing him how we make the chicken,” your dad says innocently.

“Uh huh...sure you are.”

“He was,” Steve promises.

“I don’t trust you,” you say sternly, using one finger to point up into Steve’s ridiculously handsome face. “You’re just trying to suck up to my family.”

“Me?” he gasps, forced innocence on his face now too.

You narrow your eyes at both of them in turn, wrapping your arms around yourself again as Steve rubs them to try and warm you up.

“Come on, let’s go back inside,” Steve urges you, then turns to look at your dad. “Thanks for the lesson, Hector, I’ll keep it in mind for the future.”

“What lesson?”

“Never you mind, nosy. Come on, before you catch a cold.”

Steve sits you on the sofa once he’s got you inside and settles in pulling you against his side then kissing your temple before turning his focus on Buddy the Elf sitting in a bathroom singing with Zoey Deschanel as she showers.

“When did you sneak off to talk to my dad?”

Eyes narrowed, you watch him for any of his usual tells that he might be lying or hiding something from you.

So far, nothing.

“I didn’t sneak off. You were busy talking to your aunt and your dad invited to show me how to make the chicken. He was nice, serious about you. He wanted me to know that he’s got his eyes on me and if I hurt you all of your uncles will come find me and castrate me.”

He smiles wide, amused by this for some reason.

“It’s been a while since I’ve felt fear like that. Your dad really meant it.”

You’re not convinced but he reaches down to take hold of your chin and force you to look at him.

“Give me a kiss, pouty.” he requests.

How can you resist? You lean up and give him a quick kiss but then the kids say, “Ooooooh.”

You turn to them and throw Claudia a pillow but she laughs and catches it, leading the rest of them into giggles.

~~~~~~~~~~

The night grows older and everyone comes inside. As midnight approaches, the kids filter into their usual seats at the feet of their respective parents. Your six aunts and their husbands pile onto the sofas or linger in doorways, all attention diverted to the Christmas tree and the piles of presents underneath.

Your grandma and grandpa get center seating on the longest sofa, both of them ready with cash envelopes in hand for giving out as soon as the time comes.

Your dad on the other hand sits himself by the tree and while all of the adults talk amongst themselves, the kids are as quiet as they will ever be, little to teen eyes all trained on the pile of gifts.

“Mija, ven siéntate aqui. Magge, dale el asiento a tu sobrina,” your grandmother calls, waving you over to sit beside her.

Your aunt looks from your grandmother to you and then back, looking almost affronted by the request until your grandma gives her a face of deep annoyance.

Your aunt has a moment of realization, then sighs but begins to get up.

“No! Tia, it’s okay. I’ll stand. I’m alright here.”

“Don’t argue with me and get your butt over here,” your grandmother interrupts.

“She never sees you,” your tia reminds you. “Come sit here, I’ll sit on your tio’s lap.”

“Like hell you will, you wanna break my legs?”

“Callate lo sico, estupido imbecil,” she smacks him in the arm but then sits in his lap and he smirks as he wraps his arms around her waist.

Steve pushes you towards her, then leans down to kiss your cheek.

He knows you hate to leave him standing there.

“Go, sit with your grandma.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, of course babe. Go.” He kisses your cheek again then pushes you towards the sofa.

As you settle in, giving him another look of consideration, your grandma takes your hand and holds it gently plucking a smile from your worried expression.

“He’s okay, no one is going to take him from you.”

Not that you think anyone would, but it’s a common phrase among couples who are glued at the hip.

As your grandma’s old cuckoo clock chimes in midnight, your dad points at your cousin Claudia who gets up and quickly shuts off the living room light leaving all of you in the glow of the white twinkle lights.

As your dad begins to call out names, the kids scoot closer in excitement and watch as they’re each handed gifts after gifts.

Eventually the floor begins to fill with crumpled up wrapping paper and colorful bows and ribbon. Toys are yanked from boxes and the laughter begins to fill the room again.

Your aunts and uncles also get their names called and you don’t feel bad that your name is never called.

They had no idea you were coming and your Tia Magge leans towards you, “I’m sorry we didn’t get you anything, Mija. We didn’t know you were coming.”

“Oh, I know, Tia. It’s okay. I just wanted to see you all and bring Steve to meet you.”

As you gesture towards where you left him standing, you find him missing but think nothing of it as he might have just gone to the bathroom.

There are only two gifts left under the tree, one very large one which your dad calls out for your grandpa, and then he pulls a shoe sized box, wrapped in silver paper onto his lap but gestures at your grandma who lets go of your hand and begins to call names out and pass the envelopes with money to the kids.

Because you can’t stand sitting there any longer, the mess on the floor still growing, you get up and move into the kitchen.

Trash bag in hand you move back out to the living room and begin to stoop over and pick up the wrappings of all the presents exchanged tonight.

Your grandma calls out Claudia’s name and as the teen sits back down, your dad clears his throat.

“We have one more gift, and it’s for my beautiful daughter,” he says, shocking you into standing as he calls your name.

“Me?!” you gasp, completely in shock.

You hadn’t been expecting anything though you and Steve had definitely brought gifts for everyone.

Your gift had been the ability to see such bright smiles as they opened said presents.

“Here,” your dad holds it out and you let go of the trash bag as Claudia takes it from you.

With a quick wipe of your brow, you take the gift and look for a name so that you’ll know who to thank, but there’s no name.

“Open it!” One of the younger kids says with excitement.

“Yeah, rip it!” another urges.

“Rip it?” you chuckle, and rip it.

It is indeed a shoebox, but as you lift the lid and place it underneath, you find in the shoebox another box, slightly smaller, also sealed up tight this time in pink shiny wrapping paper..

“Oh my God,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

You open that box too, tossing the wrapping paper to Claudia who tosses it for you as you find yourself staring at yet another box, wrapped in green snowflake paper.

“What the hell is going on here?” you laugh again, tearing it open and finding a smaller one.

This goes on and your family laughs at you as you open box after box after box, until finally the smallest box is the size of laptop charging block.

“How the hell does anyone even find a box this small?!” you gasp, shaking your head as your shoulders shake with laughter.

You tear the last box open, discarding the bright red paper then open the top to find a small black velvet bag with a drawstring pulled shut.

“Finally!”

Your exclamation brings laughter from the room and as you pull the bag open, you turn it over since the room is in semi-darkness and you can’t see in.

Onto your palm tumbles a silver ring. Sitting on top is an emerald cut diamond, solitaire, that glimmers in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree.

“What the-?” you start, but from the hallway behind your mom emerges Steve, looking nervous as fuck.

He swallows hard as he walks towards you, stopping only when he’s right in front of you then slowly, as butterflies tumble violently in your lower belly, he kneels.

“Oh my God…” you whisper, too shocked to speak any louder.

He says your name, clears his throat because his voice shakes, and you smile, on the verge of laughing or crying. You’re not sure which.

“In just about a week we’ll have been together for exactly one year, but I’ve known since you pulled that bullet out of my a-my backside and called me a big baby for whining about it that you were the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

“Both of us work in a very dangerous job but I don’t think I know anyone else who is as brave or strong or sure of themselves as you. I wasn’t sure what to expect from life after I gave up being Captain America.

“Suddenly there were an infinite amount of possibilities ahead of me and yet, not once did I think that marrying anyone would be the path I’d take. I’d given up on love, on the chance of a normal life, but you’ve woken me up. You’ve pulled me out of my past and with you I can see that future we talked about the other morning.

“I see my life as your husband and father to our kids laid out in front of us and I can’t wait to get started. So, I guess, I just need to ask?”

Your family laughs, reminding you that you two are not alone.

“You’ve always said that if someone proposed to you, you wouldn’t want it to be in public and well, these people are your family so they’re not public. They represent a life I would very much like to be a part of. I’ve had no one for so long, I want this family, so will you marry me? Will you let me be a part of your family?”

You’re in shambles. You’re sobbing, smiling through the waterworks as your heart pounds so hard in your chest and all of the oxygen threatens to leave your brain.

“Yes!” you gasp, and the room explodes with cheers and applause.

Steve takes the ring and quickly slips it onto your finger before rising and pulling you flush against his body. He kisses you eagerly, laughing against your own lips as you kiss him back just as passionately.

As he pulls back, an audible smack snuffed out by the roar of excitement in the room, you search his eyes for any form of doubt.

There’s none.

“Is this what you were talking to daddy about? Asking me to marry you?”

“It was the right thing to do,” Steve explains, and you feel vindicated in your earlier suspicions.

“Jerk!” you smack his chest but he pulls you in for another kiss.

The two of you share in the moment for only one more second before your grandmother is pulling you two apart so that she can hug you and kiss Steve’s cheek. Your mom is also in tears, hugging you tight as your dad hugs you both, then shakes Steve’s hand before pulling him in for a quick hug.

There’s a terrifying POP that sends you and Steve ducking from instinct, but you find your grandpa holding up a bottle of champagne.

“¿Dónde está la música? Turn on the radio! Let’s celebrate!” He shouts, lifting the bottle to his lips.

As the kids spring up and split up throughout the household to play with their toys, your aunts and uncles begin to pair off, swaying and singing at the very top of their lungs as Feliz Navidad fills the room.

Steve makes his way back towards you, swerving past your excited family until he has his arms around you again, pulling you in close until he can sway you to the beat of the music.

“I’m guessing the party is just getting started?”

“Oh, babe, you just gave them the fuel to go until the sun comes up.”

Steve chuckles leans down to kiss you again, summoning an encore of cheers.

#steve x reader #steve x mexican american reader #steve rogers x mexican american reader #captain america x reader #christmas fanfiction #steve x reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #tamales and christmas lights

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a-simple-gaywitch · 4 years ago

Text

Embers to Ashes

hotch x unsub!reader

Summary: When (Y/N) leaves the BAU, she doesn’t expect to get wrapped up in a crime spree

Word Count: 2609

Warnings: abusive relationship, pregnancy & mentions of childbirth, typical criminal minds violence

“The real monsters are humans without conscience.” -Robert E. Keller

Your decision to leave the BAU was not an easy one, but it was what was best. After your mother fell ill, you decided to move back home to care for her, as she was alone. Your team protested, not wanting you to leave, of course. Penelope fought for you to stay the hardest. She was like the sister you never had.

The team followed you to the airport to see you off. Hugs went around, followed by promises that you’d call when you land. The only person who didn’t hug you was Hotch, which you found weird for a number of reasons. Even Spencer hugged you, and he wasn’t big on physical affection. And you’d always thought you and Hotch were close.

“Hey, promise me you’ll keep in touch,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, of course,” you said.

“Oh, I need another hug!” Penelope said, squeezing you tight again. She’d been crying the whole time and her mascara was running. “I’m gonna miss you so much, Peaches.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Pen,” you said. You glanced at your watch. “Okay, I really have to go now. I love you guys so much.”

You were grocery shopping for your mother when you ran into him. Nicholas Gully, one of your old high school friends.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N) (L/N)?”

“Nick! Hi!” you said, tossing the box of pasta into your shopping cart. “How have you been?”

“Oh, great. What about you? Big FBI agent out at Quantico.”

You laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah, uh, I actually quit.”

“What? Why? All you talked about in high school was getting into the academy.”

“Uh, well, it’s because of Mom actually. She’s sick. I quit to move back out here and help her until she… Well…”

“Yeah. Well, I’m here if you need to, I don’t know, let off steam?” He handed you a business card. “Here. My number. Give me a call, we’ll go out for drinks or something.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Nick. It was good seeing you.”

Your mom died about a month after you moved home. You were an only child, so it was your responsibility to handle all of her affairs. It was stressful, and you felt isolated. Alone.

You looked at all the funeral plans spread out on the kitchen table, and before you knew it, you’d called Nick and asked him to come over.

What happened next was a blur. You buried your mother next to your father, Nick stayed by your side the whole time. While your mind was clouded with grief, you thought the only good thing to come of it was your new relationship with Nick.

He was nice. He treated you well and helped you through your grief. Only, he didn’t like how much you talked to Penelope and Emily, saying that it was unnatural to be so close to your ex-coworkers. So you stopped talking to them.

Nick moved in with you not too long into your relationship. He said that living in your mother’s house alone wasn’t healthy for you. He helped you sort and pack up her belongings, taking the things you weren’t keeping or throwing out to the thrift store.

You were together for about 8 months before your relationship changed.

You hadn’t been feeling well and you had your suspicions. You took a trip to the drug store and bought a few tests while Nick was at work. You took all of them, trying to rule out a false positive.

When you heard Nick come in from work, you decided to tell him.

“Hey, Nick? I have some news,” you said after he put his work bag down on the couch.

“What’s up?”

“Um, you know how I haven’t been feeling well lately? Well, I went to the pharmacy and picked up some pregnancy tests. They were all positive.”

“Are you serious? You’re pregnant?”

You nodded. “I’m calling my doctor first thing tomorrow to schedule an appointment.”

Nick’s tone should have tipped you off to his true nature. But you were in too deep.

A few months passed. You were showing significantly, though your doctor was worried about your health. The bags under your eyes grew, and you were showing up to your appointments with more and more bruises on your arms. One day you came in with a poorly concealed black eye.

One day, you came home from a doctor’s appointment to see Nick packing some bags.

“Nick? What’s going on?”

“We’re going on a trip,” he said. “Roadtrip, it’ll be fun.”

“Nick, I’m 7 weeks away from my due date-”

“You’ll be fine,” he snapped, thrusting a bag at you. “Get in the car.”

You headed outside, Nick’s hand firmly on your back. He steered you away from your old clunker towards a shiny new SUV. “Did you buy a new car?” you asked.

“Sure, buy. Let’s go with that.”

“Nick, what did you do? What did you get us into?”

“Don’t worry about it. Get in.”

“Nick-”

“I said, get in.”

“Des Moines PD has a case for us,” Penelope said. “As do St. Louis, Louisville, and Charleston.”

“Carjacking?” Morgan asked, flipping through the case file. “Why are they asking us to come in?”

“It’s the same MO,” Hotch explained. “It’s a couple, a man and a woman, presumably his wife or girlfriend. They find a home just outside the city and take the car at night, leaving the previously stolen car.”

“They’re active at night? How do we know it’s a team?” Spencer asked.

“The second victim had security cameras installed. They caught glimpses of the couple, but not enough for us to identify,” Penelope explained.

“Why are they only bringing us in now?” Emily asked. “It says the first theft was over a month ago.”

“Because this one ended in a murder and assult. The surviving victims are at the hospital. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch said.

When the team landed in West Virginia, Hotch divided the team up between the hospital, the crime scene, and the coroner’s office. Hotch and Emily took the hospital to interview the victims. One was a woman in her mid-30s, and the other was her 6-year-old son. The husband had been the murdered victim.

“Hi, Mrs. Foster? I’m Agent Hotchner,” Hotch said, taking a seat next to the woman with Emily. “Would you mind answering a few questions for us?”

“Well, I’m-I’m not sure how much I’ll be able to remember but…”

“Anything you tell us can help us catch these two,” Emily said, gently patting the woman’s hand. “We’re going to try something called a cognitive interview, to see what your subconscious picked up, okay?”

The woman nodded. “Okay.”

“Go ahead and close your eyes,” Emily said. “So, it was late. You and your husband were getting ready for bed. Then what?”

“Neil heard a noise,” she said. “He said it sounded like a man. He grabbed Micah’s little league bat from beside the front door. He told me to wait inside. Micah had fallen asleep on our couch and came to see what was going on. I-I heard Neil yell and I heard a gunshot. I ran outside and I saw a couple. A man and a woman.”

“What can you tell me about them? What did they look like?”

“I didn’t see the man too well, but the woman, well, I only saw her face. But she looked bad.”

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“Well, her skin was sunken and sallow. She had bruises all over. She looked like she was ready to drop at any second.”

“Okay. What happened then?”

“Neil was bleeding on the ground. I-I ran over to him and felt for his pulse. It was already gone. Then the man hit my head with the gun, and I fell to the ground. But Micah- I didn’t know Micah followed me. The man pointed his gun at Micah. I was terrified. I thought he was going to shoot my son, too. But then the woman stood in front of the gun. She started pleading with the man. I was fading in and out of consciousness, but I heard her.”

“Nick, don’t!”

“What did I tell you? You don’t get to call me that, whore.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir. But, please, don’t hurt him. He’s just a boy.”

“He saw our faces. You know the police are already on our trail. We can’t have a kid squealing to the cops.”

“No, I… I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?”

“He hit her,” Mrs. Foster said. “Hard. It was so hard I thought he shot her, too.” She shook her head. “After that, he knocked me out. I don’t know what happened next. I just remember waking up here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Foster,” Hotch said. “This was very helpful.” Hotch and Emily got up to leave.

“Wait, Agent Prentiss,” she called after Hotch left the room. Emily turned around. “When you find them, go easy on the woman.”

“Why would you want us to do that?” she asked.

“I work at a battered women’s shelter. I see women like her all the time. She’s profoundly abused. She’s not a criminal, she’s a victim.”

Micah Foster was able to give a detailed description of the man to the sketch artist. Thanks to his description, they were able to track him down outside of Charlottesville, Virginia. What they weren’t counting on was seeing you, in the passenger seat.

Nick didn’t want to go down without a fight. But his idea of a fight was to use you as a human shield. He held you in front of him, his arm bracing against your throat. He had a gun in his other hand, training it on the team.

“You shoot, you hit her!” he said, pressing harder on your throat.

“Okay, okay,” Morgan said, holding his gun up in surrender. “We won’t shoot. Just let (Y/N) go.”

Nick turned the gun and pressed it to your temple. “Why are you so concerned about her?

“Because she’s a person,” Derek said, trying to negotiate. “She doesn’t need to get hurt.”

A gunshot went off. You screamed and stumbled forward, Morgan catching you. Nick fell to the ground, dropping his gun and gripping his thigh. Hotch had snuck up behind and shot him in the leg.

The next thing you knew, you were in an interrogation room with Hotch and Emily.

“(Y/N), what happened?” Emily asked you, her voice gentle. “You look awful. What did he do to you?”

Your eyes were trained on the table. “Nothing. He treats me with nothing but respect. I did this to myself.”

“(Y/N), we all know that’s not true,” Emily said. “Talk to us. You know us.”

You kept your eyes on the metal table and you stayed quiet.

“Damn it, (Y/N)!” Hotch yelled, slamming his hands on the table. You flinched back, closing your eyes and wincing like you were bracing for a hit. Hotch took a step back. “Prentiss, take over.”

He left the interrogation room and stormed over to the second room where Morgan and Reid were interrogating Nicholas.

“Hotch-”

“What the hell did you do to her?” Hotch nearly screamed, his blood boiling.

Nick smiled. “I didn’t do anything, she did it all to herself.”

“We both know that’s not true, you piece of-”

“Aaron!” Rossi said, cutting him off. He then proceeded to pull Hotch from the interrogation room. “What the hell is going on with you?”

Hotch took a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face. “You saw her, Dave. You saw what that asshole did to her. You saw her flinch away from me. That’s a woman who has faced down some of the worst humanity has to offer, and she’s been so badly abused that she’s…”

“Aaron, you know what abuse does to people. We’ve seen it more times than I ever want to count.”

“But it’s never been someone we know. It’s never been someone we love.”

“Ah. So that’s what this is about.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Why don’t you sit this one out? Prentiss and I can handle it.” Rossi walked into the room and sat next to Emily. Emily had given you a glass of water.

“(Y/N), why did you save the mother and her son?” she asked you.

“I don’t know,” you said, twisting the glass around in your hands.

“(Y/N).” Emily reached out and put her hand on yours. “You specifically looked out for the boy. Why?”

A tear rolled down your cheek. “Nick made me leave mine,” you whispered.

“What?”

“He said she would slow us down, that she was a burden. He made me leave her at a church. I didn’t even get to hold her.” After that, you broke down sobbing. Emily slowly crossed to the other side of the table and cautiously put her arm around you.

The team worked out a deal for you with the DA. You would be acquitted if you testified against Nick, and you would be closely watched by the team.

“She can’t keep sleeping on the couch in the conference room, Hotch,” Rossi said as the team gathered in the bullpen. You were asleep and the team wanted you to have peace. “She can come stay with me. Lord knows I have the space.”

“Wait, why should she stay with you? She’s my best friend,” Penelope argued. “She can stay with me.”

“Babygirl, you don’t have a spare room,” Derek reminded her. “I can take her in.”

“She just spent the better part of two years under the thumb of an alpha male, do you think she’d feel comfortable staying with another one?” Emily said.

“Did any of you think maybe she should make her own choice?” Spencer piped up. “I mean, she hasn’t been able to make her own choices, I think we should at least give her that.”

“Reid is right,” Hotch said. “We should let her make the choice. And please, don’t pressure her. She’s not the same (Y/N) she was when she left. She’s been through hell and back.”

In the end, you chose to stay with Aaron. Something about him made you feel safe. Slowly but surely, you started warming up again. You spent your days taking care of Jack when Hotch was on cases. When Aaron was home, he spent time with you and Jack. The two of you grew closer and closer.

You’d stayed with Aaron for a few months before there was a shift in your relationship. You weren’t sure when it happened, but you and Aaron were closer. You became more comfortable with physical contact, and you found yourself curling up on the couch with Aaron for movie nights after Jack went to bed.

You kissed Aaron first. He’d come back from a case with a book he knew you’d been wanting to read. It was something simple, but it meant the world to you, knowing there was someone who listened to you and wanted to do something nice for you.

Your relationship blossomed from there, and Aaron made sure to show you he respected you and never wanted to hurt you. Of course, there were bad days and there were days you argued, but Aaron never raised a hand against you. He never wanted you to experience the pain Nick caused you ever again.

“The difference between the right word and the almost right word is like the difference between a lightning bug and the lightning.” - Mark Twain

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #x reader #em's fics

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gnocchighoul · 4 years ago

Text

peach bubbles & cherry wine

Summary:

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring.

“Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

A/N: inspired by a convo about Lucifer’s bathroom with @thedemonstherapist , and a drunk anon :D (definitely go check out her blog, she wrote something for this concept as well and it’s *chefs kiss*)

AO3 Portal

“Don’t move.”

“If I don’t I’ll drown!”

“Just—fuck, here.” Lucifer hooks his hands under your arms and lifts you up, just slightly out of the water. He straightens out his legs, still holding you up with the ease of a bodybuilder lifting an orange, and yeah, you’re a little bit jealous at how strong he is.

Warm water closes around your hips as he gently lowers you back into his lap, and you can’t help but think about all of the things you could accomplish if you had that supernatural strength. For instance: you could probably lift a car, all by yourself. Or a really heavy bookcase. A sturdy one, made from really expensive wood. Pink ivorywood. Dalbergia. Or—

Oh, what is wrong with you? Who even cares about all of the theoretical things you could do with unimaginable strength when you are literally butt ass naked in a tub with Lucifer! And you accomplished this all on your own, with only the vastly underrated power of puppy eyes.

Also, wine. So much wine.

You swirl what’s left in your glass—the red liquid twisting in a dark vortex. It swallows up the dim light of the bathroom—looks more black than red. You know that color intimately. It’s nearly the same shade as Lucifer’s eyes—gleaming bright in the dark room as he dripped cherry wine into the hollow of your belly button—lapped at the red juice with his fleshy tongue and got you all sticky.

Which is how you ended up here, lounging together in warm, bubbly water. Not that you’re complaining.

Honestly, if you had known how nice Lucifer's personal bathroom is, you would have set out on your quest to date bone him so much sooner.

It’s a lot like his room—far too much black. All doom and gloom and gold metal. Black floors. Black walls, carved of marble with gold veining, and a few floor to ceiling mirrors. The ceiling is a dizzying mural, saturated with (you guessed it) more black, but white and gray too. Sometimes, if you stare long enough—you think you can see shapes dancing in the fog of it.

(Though that may just be a hallucination conjured up by your alcohol addled brain.)

The best thing about Lucifer’s bathroom though, by a landslide, is the massive tub situated right in the center of the room. Carved entirely of smoky quartz and the size of a small pool, you could quite literally spend hours lazing around in bubble bath bliss. Which you do, quite often. It’s borderline an obsession at this point.

(The first time you commandeered the bathtub, you had read an entire book in one sitting—as you were finishing up the last chapter, Lucifer had burst into the room all feathery and freaked out and totally convinced that you had managed to somehow drown yourself. A fair assumption—in his defense, you had been awfully quiet.)

With a tub like this, you would never use the shower again. And yet, for some horrible and awful reason, Lucifer insists that the shower is better. (Which is actually quite nice as well, but that’s neither here nor there.) When you had interrogated him about it, he just casually confessed that he hardly ever used the beautiful tub. Said something about 'showers are just more practical’. Pah. What does he know? Nothing, apparently.

But now? Well, it isn’t a challenge to coax him in with you.

Lucifer tips his head back against the cool ledge of the tub, eyes sliding shut. “Who’s idea was this anyways?”

You down the rest of your wine, scrunching your face like an accordion when the bitter flavor bursts on your tongue. “Yours.”

“That can’t be right.”

“Well it’s not left."

Lucifer groans loudly, acting like your totally great joke caused him real physical pain, and you tch at him.

You lean into him—rest the back of your head on his shoulder and set your empty wineglass aside on the broad, flat rim of the tub. His right arm snakes around your waist, tugging you up tight against his chest, fingertips tracing shapes into the side of your ribs and sending shivers racing across your skin.

You eye the mountain of white bubbles in front of you—lift a poofy handful out of the water. The smell of peaches brightens the room—all sun kissed and sweet.

You wonder if Lucifer is drunk enough to let you give him a bubble beard.

"Hey, babe—"

"Don't even think about it."

"Wh—you don’t even know what I was going to say!"

Lucifer nuzzles his nose into your hair. "Keep the bubbles away from my face."

"...You’re such a killjoy sometimes."

“Am I?” He threads his fingers through your hair—pulls slowly to tilt your head to the side and ghosts his lips over your neck, pausing to nip at your pulse point. Slides one hand over your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his soft fingers.

You feel it again, then—the pleasant ache still between your thighs, softened by the water's warmth settling into your body.

Lucifer bites down on your neck with sharp incisors, pulling a soft mewl from you.

You squirm. “Again?”

You’re not actually surprised. Saturdays are devoted just to the two of you—marathon fucking and unwinding from the weekly chaos. It’s a necessary tradition, especially after a week like this previous one. You had barely seen your beloved, thanks to his boyfriend keeping him busy .

(Lu has made it very clear that Diavolo isn’t his side piece, but like. Would it really be that bad if he was? You could invite him over for your Saturday Fuckfest, which is a very appealing thought. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that princely cake?)

“Just once more, my love.” Lucifer says. You can feel the words as they move through his chest and past his lips—like the soft rumbles of a cat purring. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs.”

Fuck. He sure as hell doesn’t need to tell you twice.

His fingertips skate down your stomach, deftly moving lower to brush teasingly over your clit and your head lolls back with a strangled little mewl. You turn to the side—he captures your lips with his own, swallows down your little cries. Tastes like cherry wine and dark chocolate.

It’s too much, and not nearly enough. The damp slick of his chest against your bare back, his hand cupping your breast. He toys with you slowly, teasingly, pressing only the lightest of touches to your clit, and you want—need—more. You rock your hips back, right up against his aching cock and he hisses—pinches your nipple and slips his fingers inside of you in tandem, stretching you wide and exploring as you desperately grind against his hand.

He spent all day teasing you—pushing you to the brink and then taking his sweet time unraveling you. Playing you like a finely tuned instrument until tears pricked at your eyes and you dissolved into a begging, whimpering puddle. That fire still burns in your belly—kindled back to life, red hot and unforgiving as he presses his fingers deeper inside of you.

When it comes to fucking, Lucifer is far more patient than you are—something he’s proven a thousand times over. He enjoys it—breaking you. Ruining you. Pushing you to the brink and leaving you there, time and time again.

But right now—you want more than just his skillful fingers.

You squirm out of Lucifer’s grip, confusing him for all of two seconds, until you turn around and straddle his strong thighs. Bubbles stick to your arms and tummy like little clouds.

“I want you inside me.” you pout.

“Was I just not?” he says, cheekily, and you glare.

He suddenly bucks his hips up once into your own, threatening your already questionable balance—nearly sends you careening face first into his shoulder. Sudsy water sloshes over the dark rim of the tub as you steady yourself by placing both hands on his chest. You glare at his smug fucking face.

His eyes, vibrant and jarring, meet yours—sparkling with delight. Crimson shot through with so much black that you’re not sure where the pupil ends anymore.

You grab his chin with your slick hand—dig your fingers into his jaw and pull him into a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and heat. Relish the taste of his mouth and the slide of his lips, wordlessly begging for what you want.

He grins against your mouth. “Such a needy little thing.”

You don’t entertain him with a reply—just grind your hips down on his cock, catching your throbbing clit, leaving you keening.

He sucks the plush of your bottom lip into his mouth and bites as you sink down on the heavy weight of cock, inch by agonizing inch until he’s buried to the hilt. He murmurs praise against your lips as he fills your pussy to the brim—sends white hot sparks shooting up your spine. You burn.

Experimentally, you roll your hips. Lucifer meets you halfway—always does. Grinds his hips languidly into yours, easing the painful stretch of his cock between your walls into a pleasant fullness. There’s no urgency—he’s already ravaged your sweet, tight cunt.

Lucifer feasts on your mewls—swallows them whole as he thrusts his hips up, sloshing more water over the tub rim. His hands dig into your hip as he grinds up into you with sharp, short jabs—buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard. Draws blood to the surface and lingers there. Leaves behind berry-red marks.

Your nipples rub against his chest and you grip his shoulders—dig your nails into the taut, firm lines of muscle. Your thighs tremble as you bounce on his cock, rocking down faster—needy.

Heat spirals and coils in your belly, winding tighter and tighter until your blood is singing with it, leaving you breathless and dizzy and alight. He snakes a hand down between your legs—fingers finding your clit and your hips spasm, squeezing him so tight that it pulls a hiss from him.

Your climax hits you hard—steals your breath away and makes your vision all fuzzy and dark. Your walls clench and Lucifer pulls your hips down, again and again and again, spurred on by your gasping and whimpering. Dragging your tight, warm pussy on his pulsating cock as he floods your womb with his seed.

As his cock softens inside of you, he releases that bruising grip on your hips—tugs you into a close embrace with absolutely no possibility of escape, squishing your slippery breasts against his chest. Heart drumming a furious beat beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around his neck and melt into his arms.

For a few beats, it’s silent. You can tell that he wants to say something—he’s practically buzzing with words unspoken.

You lean back to see his face properly and tap the pad of your pointer finger against his chest. “Out with it, handsome.”

“You know that I love you.” A statement, followed up by a softer, “Right?”

A smile tugs at your lips. As if that’s even a question.

“Well I'd certainly hope so, because you're stuck with me. Forever.”

He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth slide upwards into that dazzling grin you love so damn much. Then he shifts his hips, reminding you that he's still very much inside of you, and nudges his cock over that little patch inside of you that makes you see sparks but is also far too sensitive right now. Your breath leaves you in one great big whoosh and you bite down hard on your swollen lip.

"You're so mean."

Lucifer hums in agreement, looking far too thrilled by your reaction. Presses a kiss to your jaw and murmurs, "Say it back."

"What?"

He leans back. Searches out your gaze and meets it with his own. "Say that you love me."

Oh.

You would think he'd be reassured by the fact that his dick is literally still inside you, but… you suppose it wouldn’t hurt to use your words, too.

You hold his hand—link your pinky finger with his own and say, "I love you."

It’s a promise.

You relax back into his arms, content to just sit quietly amidst the peach-scented bubbles and confessions.

…For about ten seconds.

“So… About that bubble beard…”

Lucifer scoffs. Presses a kiss to your temple and smiles there.

He really does love you.

#woohoo this is my first smut fic *insert kermit dancing gif*#om! smut #obey me smut #obey me lemon #gnocchiwrites #obey me drabble #obey me #om! lucifer #swd obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me fanfic

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kzuhadovey · 4 years ago

Text

promises must be kept

character: timeskip!hinata x f!reader

type: fluff

warnings: -

song recommendations: mrs.magic - strawberry guy

remember to drink your water and eat your food, i love you!!

At the ripe age of 7 years old, you made a promise.

“At 25 years old, if we’re single, we get married.” “25? That’s a little early.” “That’s old enough. I’m sure that when we’re 25 we’ll look old so no one will like us.” “Okay then.” “Okay. It’s on, Y/N.” “You’re stuck with me for life, Shoyo.”

You smiled at yourself as you find the messily scribbled paper you found deep in your drawer. It was a scrawny drawing of you and Hinata, with the words, “Y/N and Shoyo gets married when we’re 25.” The memories rush back, like a wave of nostalgia, and you sigh. If only things were that easy. You and Shoyo have been friends since the literal day you’ve been born. You guys were a package deal- you have Y/N? You get Shoyo aswell. You both told each other everything, from your first kisses to your other friends’ secrets. You supported Shoyo through his volleyball career, and he supported you throughout yours. He was the best friend you could ask for.

Until that day, you moved to Paris. You’re a writer, and you’ve had over 5 million copies of your latest book, Over The Moon. It was a love story like you usually wrote. And even though your writing career was soaring, your own love life hasn’t been so good. Yes, you were an astonishing writer with beautiful facial features, but you’ve never found the right, exact guy. He was always too pushy, or too confident- it was never the right match for you. So ever since, your love life has been incognito. You’ve mostly focused on writing for now- your book was almost finished. You just needed an ending- which you couldn’t exactly grasp. The two main characters, Tracee and Elliot, were definitely in love, but you didn't really know what to do with them. Writer’s block, as it was called.

After around an hour of staring at the blank page on your laptop, you decide to take a walk outside. It was a very beautiful day- the streets were packed with tourists and small shops were blooming with food and objects. You stared at one of the shops- a sweet, enticing Lilly grasping your attention. “Might as well just buy it.” You thought to yourself as you approached the old lady selling them. “Salut! Combien coûtent ces lis?” You said, taking a bouquet in your hands, sniffing them. “Bonjour mon cher. L'un coûte 4 euros.” The lady said as she started packing one for you. “J'en prends deux, s'il vous plaît. Je vous remercie.“ You said as you paid the lady 8 euros.

”Uhm… Pouvez-vous- a-acheter tr-trois, right? trois fleurs, s'il vo- vous plaît?“ A man beside you said. You chuckle. He was obviously not from here- he had broken french. You squinted as you tried to make sense of his sentence. ”Quoi? Je ne comprends pas!“ The lady said as she rolled her eyes, passing you your flowers. You gulped- the man seemed nervous. His cheeks were red and he was looking down of… embarrassment, maybe? ”Il veut trois de ces fleurs.“ You say, pointing to a bouquet of pink-white orchids. He looks at you with wide eyes- why’d you even want to help him? ”Oh. Ces étrangers, ils parlent à peine français.“ The old lady rolled her eyes as she prepared the bouquet. ”C'est 11 euros pour un bouquet.“ The lady said as she shoved the flowers onto the man’s chest lightly. The man seemed to catch on with the numbers as he hurriedly took out his wallet, paying the lady. ”Passez une bonne journée, ma chère.“ You say as you walk away, sniffing your flowers.

“Mademoiselle! S'il vouz plait- wait.” The man said as he rushed in front of you. He had fiery orange hair, and he had tan-ish skin. “Merci. I- I just came here, yesterday.” He said, scratching his neck awkwardly. You would usually just laugh it off and say your welcome since it wasn’t your first shenanigans with tourists. But this man was special- you recognized him. With the way he spoke, and the way he combed through his hair-

“Hinata?”

His eyes glance over to yours as the gears spin in his brain. “Y-Y/N? Ah- I found you!” He shouts, surprised. Your heart is beating so fast- you could barely recognize him. He’s grown taller over the years- and his hair’s turned more orange. “Hinata… Hello.” You mutter out. Your head can’t process this- the last time you saw him- he was literally tiny. Bruises on his arms and a big, large smile on his face. “I missed you so much!” Hinata says as he jumps to wrap you in his embrace. He smelled like citrus- sour and sweet at the same time. You nuzzle your head in his neck- you finally found your best friend. “Shoyo.” You muttered, tears pricking your eyes. Your stomach’s whirling with nervousness and your brain’s spinning with excitement.

“So… you’re a writer now!” Hinata says as the waiter gives him his coffee. You were both sat in a cafe- you’ve decided to catch up with him. “I- I saw your book in Brazil last year. You’re so famous!” You chuckle- Hinata looks hella excited. “It’s nothing, Hinata. You’re better than me- how are the others, by the way? I saw your game with the Schweden Adlers.” You cock your head to the side curiously. “Y-yes. I’m in a team with Bokuto and Atsumu now.” Hinata chuckles. He’s turned out from a scrawny middle school amateur to a literal professional player. “What are you doing in Paris?” You sip more of your hot chocolate. “I- I wanted to look for you. I heard you were in Paris.” His cheeks turn red- it was amusing, really. So, he came for you. WAIT- HE WAS LOOKING FOR YOU?? “Me? Why?” You widen your eyes in surprise. “Because- I wanted to see you! It’s the first break I’ve had in a heck long time- might aswell take a vacation too, right?” Hinata lets out a weak chuckle. “Woah- so it’s your first time here?” You ask excitedly. Hinata nods and you smile widely. “Yes!- Let’s go around- you have nothing to do, right?” You ask as you stand up. “W-well- yes- but I don’t want to- take your time up-,” Hinata says, chuckling. “No no no! It’s fine! I’m free today anyway.” You smile as you take him outside. “You’re my best friend, Shoyo. I will always make time for you.”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You both slump on your sofa tiredly. “I love Paris so much!” Hinata says, jumping up from the sofa. You chuckle- he was always a hyper boy. “The louvre, and then Notre Dame- It’s so pretty!” Hinata says as he sits back down, sighing heavily. You chuckle softly- he was like a very hyper puppy. You both have been exploring Paris all day, talking and taking pictures. You ended the day with dinner and now you were both slumped on your sofa. You yawn and stretch your arms- before laying your head in Hinata’s lap. He was soft and warm- his thighs were very much like pillows. Hinata tenses up- your head’s in his lap. “Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight?” You ask, staring at him. He tries to relax, leaning back more. “I actually- hoped you would help me find a hotel for me.” Hinata chuckles, scratching his neck. “You can sleep in my place. We’re friends, right?” You say as you yawn again. Hinata’s eyes light up and he smiles. “Thank you!” Hinata smiles and he looks around. You’ve got a pretty tiny apartment, with the view of a flower garden. It was already pretty quiet since it was late at night but you could still hear people talking far down the road. You notice Hinata staring at the balcony view and you chuckle. “It’s pretty, right?” You ask as you made your way towards the balcony.

A wave of fresh air hits your face as you step onto the balcony. The night air is peaceful and calm- just how you liked it. “Hey, I have a question, Y/N!” Hinata says as he takes off his jacket and joins you on the balcony. “Yeah?” You ask as you look at him. You take the time to observe him more- his cheeks are a warm tone of peach and freckles dotted his face. He’s tanner than when you last saw him- he’s also gotten buffer and taller. He looks really pretty under the moonlight. “Y/N? Hello?” Hinata snaps you out of your thoughts and you smile awkwardly. “Sorry- I spaced out.” You chuckle. “It’s- okay,” Hinata says, smiling. “I need to tell you something.”

You nod and eye him more- he’s redder now- he seems nervous. “Y/N. I like you.” He mutters under his breath, looking down. Your heart drops to your stomach and you gulp. Did you hear him right?- “W-what?” He shuts his eyes nervously. “Y/N! I like you a lot! Will you marry me?!” He shouts and the minute the words leave his mouth your eyes widen. Marry?! Your head is spinning with confusion and butterflies were swarming your stomach. Your eyes are looking around frantically in an attempt to see if this was a dream. “Y/N. Do- do you like me back?” Hinata squeaks out, snapping you out of your thoughts. You think again- well, kinda. You’ve always laughed more at his jokes than others, you were touchy with him, and well- he was your first kiss. “Hinata…” You manage to mutter out and fear strikes in Shoyo’s eyes.

“Yes, I like you.” You reply slowly.

Shit shit shit- what was he gonna say- “Thank you for telling me. Don’t lie though- I really like you- and I don’t want to get my heartbroken, o-okay?” Hinata mutters out, scratching his neck. You smile a little, looking at the floor. Hinata takes a deep breath before kneeling down on one knee. “Now… will you… marry me? Please?” Your heart stops- what the hell was he doing? “We made- a pact- right? You’d marry me when you’re 25 and still- single.” Hinata mutters out and you finally remember the letter you found earlier. Wasn’t that a joke? “Will you marry me… please?” Hinata takes your hands in his and kisses them- making you blush.

Your head was very busy. Thoughts were running around and your heart was beating really fast. You didn’t know what to say- you wanted to say yes but it was so sudden, but then again you didn’t want to reject him- he just said he didn’t want to get his heart broken. “…Yes. I’ll marry you, I guess.” You say, chuckling. Hinata looks up at you- his eyes are bright and happy. “OH MY GOD- Y/N I LOVE YOU!” Hinata shouts as he takes you in his arms, wrapping you in a large hug. Your bones feel crushed- he definitely turned stronger. You giggle a little bit, nuzzling your head in his neck. “I love you so much! Y/N’s gonna be my wife!” Hinata says as he shouts across the balcony. “I’M GETTING MARRIED GUYS!!!”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You huff in annoyance before dialing your now husband. “Yes, my wifey?” Hinata says, answering the phone. You chuckle at that silly nickname- he’s been using it ever since you two got married. “Can you pick Emmy up from daycare? They’re closing up early and I have to go to a book signing.” You say as you walk to your car. Ever since you moved to Japan with Hinata, life’s been great. Your newest book has been pretty successful, and you have a daughter with Hinata! “Ah, alright. I’ll pick her up in a sec- practice is almost done.” Hinata says. You can hear Bokuto in the background- he’s screaming and throwing balls around. “HEY SHOYO IS THAT YOUR WIFE?!” Atsumu shouts and you chuckle. “Sorry, wifey- I have to go or else Atsumu will attack you-” Hinata says as he makes a kissing noise. “I love you, bye!” The phone hangs up and you chuckle. This marriage has been a little tough since you both married early- but it’s been alright. Promises had to be kept, after all.

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enternalempires · 4 years ago

Text

The Beauty of Purple

This is a Lukanette fic with an akuma and fair warning for mentions of abuse and bullying. Hope you guys enjoy (this is mostly just a cute drabble)! Also I am technologically inept so like, I can’t figure out how to make a link to my Ao3??? But if you want to check it out, my username is the same!

Purple was her and him, it was them.

But purple was also the color of anger, of heartbreak.

It was the color his father screamed through the house until his voice went raw and it was the color his knuckle turned after punching the wall. Purple is what his mother cloaked herself in when he left, like her whole body turned bruised with grief. Purple is the color his sister wore until she turned it from mourning into bravery and learned how to love again despite the fear. Purple danced from his fingertips and stained his cheeks as sobs clung to his bedroom walls. Purple is what he has to protect himself from— his past from leaking out and his sensitive heart from twisting into colorless knots, his anger from striking, his sister meant to be held instead of frightened. Purple was sorrow, it was aching and cruel and merciless.

Purple was not meant to be happy, wasn’t meant to them.

So why was it?

Because Marinette is so many shades of pink that it leaves Luka breathless, but she’s always a bubble-gum glow when she sees him.

That’s when she’s herself.

That’s when she’s happy.

And it’s because of him.

Him who’s a blue— dark enough some days to drown his soul, dark and deep and enough of an ocean blue that he could sweep the world away in a tsunami and not even care. A cyan blue when calm, when he teases his sister, when he meditates to his guitar. But he’s a soft azure when he’s with her; indigo when she cries and a blazing navy when she’s hurt. Her laughter makes him go bright blue and her smile melts him into the color of the sky at midday.

She’s pink.

He’s blue.

And purple is still not a happy color, still not something she’d choose.

She wants yellow instead.

She’d be happy with yellow. With someone other than him.

And he wants her to be happy— so there’s no room for purple.

Besides, he thinks, purple just ruins things and she deserves to be safe.

“Lovely?” Marinette pokes his cheek, making the musician blink up at her at the sound of what the tiny bluenette has chosen to call him for months now. That and ‘sweetie’. “Are you okay?”

“Your freckles are darker than usual.” Is all Luka can say, eyes drifting over her slightly pink-tinged cheeks as the little freckles stand out.

Pink, pink, pink.

Her blush is pink.

When he glances down, he sees the frown on her lips— they’re pink too— and feels the uncertain skip in the best of her song. It makes him sigh.

“Don’t worry about me, Melody.” Luka gently reaches up and tugs a loose strand of hair behind her ear, not wanting it to block her beautiful electric eyes. “I just have a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Marinette tilts her head and it takes almost all his self restraint not to awe out loud at how adorable she is. “I’m here to talk if you’re not.”

“I’m sure.” He chuckles, ruffling her hair even though his heart aches. Yellow. She likes yellow, not blue. “Want to hear a song I’ve been working on?”

“Of course.” His melody smiles softly— the same smile that makes his heart beg to never let it end— and motions for him to continue. “What’s it about?”

Luka smirks, “You’ll see.”

Marinette gives him a look that’s somewhere between ‘Why don’t you just tell me?’ and ‘What are you waiting for?’ and it makes his smirk broaden into a grin, lips tugging up at the sides as her nose crinkles.

Cute.

They’re sitting across from each other on Marinette’s balcony and the sunrise is orange and red and pink— and it makes Luka feel something he’s too scared to feel alone but doesn’t ask or pry. He sits there patiently and he plays his guitar for the girl he fell in love with.

If she was happy, being friends would be easier.

If she was happy, he wouldn’t mind yellow.

If she was happy… would it be worth it?

Now they’re laughing and talking and teasing and it makes his heart melt in his chest because she isn’t happy with him how he wants to be happy with her, but she’s still happy.

And it’s enough.

It’s more than enough and it’s worth it a thousand times over.

Her eyes twinkle in Paris’ lights and the sun makes her hair glimmer as it flows around her shoulders and— god she’s so beautiful and she doesn’t even realize how much she affects him and god, she’s smiling and her freckles are drowning under her blush and he’s drowning under his own love and he can’t handle it but god, he would do anything for her.

And it isn’t fair and it never will be fair because he’s blue and she’s pink but she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t want anything but to become the soft color of a peach with yellow.

Peach would look good on her— a gentle color with no chance of going dark. Yellow is too bright, too easy to love for that. Too nice of a color to make peach anything less than what she would hope.

And purple is still a dangerous color.

Purple is still dark, it’s still unstable. He knows why she doesn’t want purple but he wants it. He wants the mulberry shape of bruise-kissed lips and magenta blushes and mauve-colored winks and he wants to love her so much that it’s painful.

Purple is still them.

But it’s him now, too.

She crawled so far into his heart that all his walls crashed down into a dusty cloud of pink, and that pink mixed until she was in his lungs and he was breathing her in with every breath. He doesn’t need oxygen— he just needs her.

He loves her.

He’ll always love her.

But now it’s midday and the sky is the color of his eyes whenever he looks at her and there’s nothing dark or hard about it. It’s a soft color and a soft feeling and it expands even when the sun— even when the thoughts of yellow— try to break through.

It’s midday and they’re still laughing.

They laugh until their sides hurt and Luka doesn’t even remember why but when he looks at the way Marinette’s head tilts back with a loud giggle he finds that he doesn’t care.

Midday doesn’t last forever, though, and neither does the feeling of being drunk on happiness. Purple comes crashing in with sharp edges and a wicked laugh and draped in gold garments and purple is the color of the mask they’re wearing and purple is the color of fear that seizes Luka’s heart when it tries to hurt her.

When it threatens to make them relive their most painful memories or when their lives changed forever.

When he thinks about his father; the purple yells bouncing around their home, the bruises, the injuries he had to hide, the hits meant for his sister but left orchid-colored marks against him instead.

When he knows that she’s been hurt a lot too.

When he knows that both of them have things they never want to experience again.

Akumas were common and they were always thrumming with energy and he knew that they weren’t in control of themselves— that Hawkmoth had his manipulative claws digging into their minds— but it doesn’t help the rage that contorts and twists in his veins because how dare they try to hurt the girl he loves.

So he fights for her and she fights for him but they’re just two teenagers and they weren’t supposed to be a team and what were they supposed to do when the world feels like it's falling down onto them?

Luka felt like he was drowning but that wasn’t what scared him.

What scared him was looking to his right and seeing that Marinette was drowning too. That his eyes were growing heavy and he couldn’t breathe and he felt so weak but he reached out for her anyway— he reached out and everything went numb when their fingertips touched.

It felt like he was flying, flashes and colors and smells jerking him from one place to the next and it could’ve been years since his feet had touched the ground by the time that Luka crashed into the cold, plasticy feeling of whatever was under him.

Coughing, he sat up in a blind frenzy, blinking repeatedly as his senses tried to grapple his surroundings— skin feeling too tight to fit his panic.

“Melody?” Luka pushed himself to stand, knees shaking but not as bad as his voice. “Melody, where are you? Marinette!” Seeing her groaning behind him, the musician only sees a wave of pink before he’s already crouched next to her and holding her face in his hands.

She’s cold and her face is scrunched up like she tasted a lemon.

But she’s breathing, she’s alive— and it makes relief puncture his lungs and for a heavy sigh to escape him.

“L-Luka?” Marinette’s eyes slowly blinked open, mouth parting in some form of a daze— as if she’s looking right through him. “What… the akuma! No, oh no. This is, this is bad! I can’t be trapped here, I have to get back! And, god, Luka. I need to get back to Luka.”

“Melody, it’s okay, I’m right here.” Luka shuffled closer, both of them sitting side to side now as his hands calmingly ran up and down her arms, confused as to why she wasn’t looking at him. “We’ll be okay. Ladybug and Chat Noir will fix everything and—”

“No, no.” She clutched at her head with a groan, not acknowledging his words, blue eyes filling with terror and guilt. “If I’m here then, then— Tikki?” Watching her suddenly whirl around and stand up gave Luka whiplash and he wondered how she didn’t even stagger after being teleported to… wherever they were. “Tikki, I really need you!”

Tikki? Who’s that? Luka blinked a couple times, hands itching by his sides to just drag her back to him and never let go.

He’s blue and she’s pink but purple would be okay if she’s safe. Purple would be okay, for just a moment, if he could hold her. If he could make sure nothing else— no one else— could hurt her.

“Okay, okay, this is fine,” Marinette said to herself and Luka watched, unsure of what to do if she couldn’t see, hear, or feel him— seemingly anyway since she gave so indication that she knew he was there. “Chat Noir will fight that Akuma or find a way to break me out of here and everything will be fine. He knows who I am. He’ll figure it out.”

Chat Noir? Why would Chat Noir focus on getting her out then just winning the fight and cleansing the Akuma with Ladybug?

Luka was a Couffaine, chaos ran in his blood and he was used to life throwing a curveball and painful things his way, used to going with the flow and preparing for the worst, used to figuring things out on his own.

But honestly? This was giving him a headache.

“Melody?” He stands up and tries again, only for a wave of purple to explode around them as the scenery flashes around them, their bodies now side by side as they’re forced to move through wherever this Akuma’s power is taking them.

They’re off to the side, his Melody not too far away and she clutches at her hands to her chest breathing heavy as she stares at what looks like a playground around them, and he can smell the wood chips underneath them and the wet soil, puddles here and there as drops of water drip from the trees.

He blinks again and recognizes it.

The playground from the first school he went to, when he was five or six and still so scared of everything and anyone that he avoided people at all costs— blending in with the background and making no friends.

But this wasn’t from his memory.

It was from hers.

“Mari,” Luka looks down and wishes he could hold her, but she still can’t see him or feel him. They’re trapped together but they’re still so far apart. He sighs, looking around more and frowning. “Why would one of your worst memories be on a playground?”

As expected, she didn’t answer.

Then Luka sees her— a short little five-year-old with a shy smile and a pink overalls that are too big for her and a white shirt underneath, dark hair into pigtails and blue eyes nervously taking in all the other kids playing.

That’s Marinette.

Compared to him at that age, she definitely looked more put together. Still kind, still adorable in that innocent kid way where they don’t know how cruel the world is. In a way that he never got to experience— childhood ripped away by his father’s hands much too soon.

Kids he recognized as her now classmates and his sister’s girlfriend, but not his sister— she went to school a year later than everyone else— were playing what looked to be kickball.

The Akuma also said life-changing memories, so many things wouldn’t be bad? Maybe this is just when she made friends for the first time?

Luka hoped that’s all it was.

But then, as the rest of her memory played out, he realized that was a too-soon assumption.

She’s five when she learns what it’s like to be bullied for the first time and goes home with a running nose and bruises from when Chloe— god, he hated that girl— pushed her into the concrete. She’s called Ugly Mari for the rest of the year and it breaks his heart as he realizes that this is what started her insecurity.

She’s seven when she’s told she’ll never be loved and Luka watches as she cries in her father’s arms as she asks what’s so wrong with her that no one wants to be friends. Mr. Dupain tells her that some people just don’t have the same gentleness and warmth inside of them that she has.

She’s nine when she makes friends with her classmates and everyone learns to love the kind-hearted girl but ten when her best friend at the time says she’s too much to handle. This is the year she learned to fold any pride she had into herself and hide it away next to her confidence.

Luka wants to scream at the world when he sees how scared she is of pushing people away because she’s a little too smart, a little too clumsy, a little too late, a little too much.

She’s twelve when Chloe beats her up in the locker room and she goes home telling her parents that she fell down some stairs. She’s twelve when she makes her first successful shirt and it gets ripped up. She’s twelve and she cries herxcself to sleep because she doesn’t feel like anyone will ever love her.

She’s seventeen now and she’s watching herself at twelve years old and Luka sees the tears in her eyes and he’s on the floor crying just watching her feel worthless and he can’t even hold her and tell her how she’s the most amazing person he met.

She’s thirteen when she becomes Ladybug— he learns that Tikki is her Kwami— and Luka’s breath gets taken away at how brave she is but then is given back as his heart breaks all over again when he sees that she’s so riddled with insecurities that she doesn’t think she will be good enough to protect Paris.

He watches her make a mistake and she is so terrified that she gives away the earrings to Alya. He watches as she takes them back and helps her best friend. He watches as a cop berates her for getting them into this mess. He watches as she saves the same girl who made her feel unlovable for the last thirteen years of her life. He watches as she’s confident for one of the first times and smirks as she takes down Stoneheart and all the butterflies.

He watches and he’s back to being the love-sick man he is as he sees his Melody, the one trapped here with him, watch herself without blinking.

Then she smiles and he feels so grateful that his heart aches because she’s letting herself be proud and she might not be healed from the trauma of being bullied so harshly for years but she’s strong and she’s getting through it.

It’s the next day she falls in love for the first time underneath a black umbrella and Luka sees the shy smile on her face and he scowls because pink and yellow don’t mix— even if it would make her happy. Pink and yellow is peach but she’s nervous and so scared of messing up and yellow can’t see it and he doesn’t even deserve her.

There’s a couple battles and other heroes and small conversations here and there but their brief flashes and distant sounds but Marinette smiles anyways and waves when she sees the people she loves.

Luka sees it all and he doesn’t know how he could ever stop loving this girl who’s compassionate and sweet and protects everyone without complaining and no one can even properly appreciate her for it because no one knows.

But he knows.

And he loves her all the more.

She’s fourteen when she meets him and he watches himself play for her and he smiles as his Melody looks at the scene with a familiar tenderness in her eyes that leaves him breathless. He watches over the course of the year as they grow closer through her eyes, as he gets akumatized and as he is granted with the Snake Miraculous for the first time.

Luka sees as, even though he wasn’t her first love, she fell in love with him.

She’s sixteen when she dies for the first time in a battle with an Akuma and Chat Noir is forced to take her earrings. She’s sixteen when she comes back from death with a smile and learns that her partner is Adrien Agreste. She’s sixteen when she found out her old crush is madly in love with her and she still chooses him— she chooses Luka— anyway.

She’s seventeen and she’s talking to Alya on the phone about how to tell him she wants him and it was this morning she did that, right before he came over, and then they’re sitting with bright smiles and he notices how she looks at him when he’s looking at something else— only briefly, as even the devil knows he’d be damned if he could just keep his eyes off of her for more than a couple minutes— and Luka is blown away with the knowledge.

She loves him.

Marinette loves him.

The feeling is so purple that it makes him ache with the need to kiss her. It’s the smell of her lavender shampoo and the color of an Iris and it’s warmth and gentle and a burning amethyst and it makes him cry all over again.

He’s blue and she’s pink and yellow isn’t even an option anymore but that doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want yellow. She doesn’t want to be peach. She just wants him— she wants him and he wants her even more.

Purple was still dangerous.

But it was so, so beautiful.

He’d never give it up because of what purple was.

Purple was her and him, it was them.

#miraculous #miraculous ladybug #akuma attack #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #mlb fanfic #fanfic #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x luka #blue and pink #dangerous #love #fluff #cute

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