#so the Temperance one especially is a bit tongue in cheek lol but is the vibe there??? you tell me! some of these match-up's were hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sstan-hoe · 2 years ago

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◇ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐇𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐬 ◇

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — teacher!bucky barnes × ceo!fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — with a hot-headed wife like you, Bucky's life was never boring. Add to that, his daughter. Seven years, cute as a button with the temper of her mother.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT (at the end tho), riding, slapping, a bit of choking, allusions to cum eating, sub!bucky (I tried lol), this thing has like 5k words... THERE IS PLOT PEOPLE

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I wanted more smut but then decided I will only do more drabble wise, meaning if people want and maybe give ideas I'd be happy to show more of them – especially sex wise, there is so much we can do! reblog, comment / follow!

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃

A soft nudge against your shoulder pulled you from your deep slumber, when you didn’t move right away you got another nudge, “mommy,” a small voice whispered.

You couldn’t help but smile into the pillow after hearing the voice of your daughter. Slowly you turned to her, “good morning little lady,” you greeted her, and she gave you the most adorable grin one could imagine.

“Daddy said to get you for breakfast,” she told you, rocking back and forth on her soles. Her words caused you to look over to Bucky’s side which was indeed empty. Normally you’d be up before your husband and make breakfast, start working and get Myra ready for elementary school.

Slowly you sat up and grabbed Myra quickly making a sound that matched a lion’s roar, “gotcha!” you started tickling her. High pitched squeals left her mouth, “mommy, mommy stop!” she giggled.

Downstairs the noise of happy laughter made Bucky’s ears pick up, a smile spreading across his lips. Soon his two troublemakers would come down for breakfast.

Meanwhile you picked something out to wear with the help of Myra, she was always excited to choose a shirt or dress pants for you. Never had you met a seven-year-old that had as much fashion sense as your daughter, sometimes she picked better clothes than you.

“Mommy you have to wear the red blouse, it makes daddy’s eyes twinkle,” Myra giggled and pointed at said blouse at the top of your closet.

You got the blouse from the top and slipped into the soft satin fabric. It was cute to see how your little girl was aware of her surroundings and that she knew which clothes Bucky likes the most. You finished the look with jewelry and then walked downstairs with Myra.

Bucky heard your footsteps and instantly turned around, his eyes in fact twinkling when he saw you in the red blouse.

“Good morning moya lyubov',” he whispered against your cheek as you came around the kitchen aisle. “You did not wake me,” you stated, holding your chin high. A low chuckle rumbled through your husband’s chest, “couldn’t, you looked too peaceful to wake,” he pressed his lips to yours.

You couldn’t help the grin that formed on your lips, this man and his sweet tongue. “You are a sweet talker Barnes,” you told him, gently shoving his shoulder, “and you Barnes are falling for it everytime,” Bucky said back with a small smirk.

“Now sit your cute ass down and eat,” he patted your bum before his second whirlwind rushed over to him. Myra jumped into her father’s arms with a big smile, “I helped mommy pick out her outfit!” she told him proudly, “thank god you did,” Bucky whispered into her ear in a teasing tone.

The little comment didn’t go unnoticed by you, cocking an eyebrow at him. Bucky just shrugged, “mommy you needed my help,” your daughter agreed.

“Okay you two, enough. I gotta make your lunch,-” “already done,” “and pack Myra’s bag,-” “done that too,” “okay, mister and have you made your lunch too?” You questioned him, even though your tone was teasing you were more than happy for him and that he had taken the work off of you.

“‘Course I did, moya lyubov',” Bucky promised and presented you with the lunch boxes and then pointed at Myra’s backpack which stood by the door.

“Good boy,” you whispered in his ear, making sure your daughter didn’t hear it. A shiver ran down his spine, before you could tease him any more the doorbell rang and Myra sprinted towards it.

“Stevie’s here,” you said with a slight smirk and went to walk after Myra but Bucky snaked his metal arm around your waist and pulled you back, “don’t think this is over,” he growled lowly.

That’s the thing with you and Bucky, you were both in control. Although no one believed the calm, sweet teacher would have such a dirty mouth and a rude, controlling CEO would easily get told what to do, it was how your life was sometimes.

A second later Steve walked in with his niece - goddaughter - in his arms. “Morning boss, morning jerk,” the blonde greeted you with a smirk, “morning,” you said unison, though Bucky sounded more unwelcoming than you.

Not only did Steve walk in at the wrong moment, he also was like a switch. As soon as he would come in you would be in work mode - save for vacations or weekends.

You took Myra from Steve’s arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “have fun in school and give Lilian hell,” the last part you whispered in hopes Bucky didn’t hear them.

Steve tried to hide a chuckle while Bucky faintly heard your words and lifted his head, “what was that?” he questioned. You gave him an innocent smile and sat Myra down who wore the same expression, quickly you left with Steve.

Bucky looked down at his daughter, “we’re not giving Lilian hell,” he said sternly. Myra nodded her head, but both knew if Lilian was being her bratty self then the littlest Barnes wouldn’t hold back. He was proud that his daughter stood up for herself and others, but sometimes she came too much after her mother.

“How are the numbers looking?” you asked Steve as you got into the passenger seat while turning your tablet on.

Suddenly Steve went quiet, he rubbed his neck a little anxiously, “well…you know Fred, he kinda switched something up and-,” “Steve, how are the numbers looking?” you asked again with more enforcement. “We had a little downfall…,” the blond tried to stay calm and not show any sign of nervousness.

“And what does a little mean?” you raised your eyebrows already in motion to open everything. “Like 20 percent,” thankfully you were now in front of the office and your anger would be directed at someone else.

You got out of the car with a glare and instantly walked to the sales department while swiping through said numbers.

“Good morning,” you announced yourself loudly, all heads turned towards you, “I was informed that our numbers had a downfall from 20 percent, can anyone tell me what caused this,” you knew what and who.

Several heads turned to Fred who looked frightened, “it was an accident, really,” he tried to explain. It wasn’t a good answer, accidents like this weren’t supposed to happen, at all.

“You better fix it before I do it and when I fix things, I fix people too. I will come back at 12 AM, it would be better for you if it’s fixed,” you said with a stone cold face.

“Yes, ma’am,” Fred almost whimpered, the fear visible on his face like nothing else. “Start working,” you barked and turned around, walking away. One of Fred’s coworkers leaned towards him and whispered; “wow she was nice,” meaning it with full honesty.

You walked into your office, turned the computer on and sorted through the files on your desk. As you looked through them you noticed that they weren’t properly created and certain information missing.

If you were the one who made those folders then you’d be mad at yourself but you weren’t the one who made them.

Pressing down on the phone at your desk you called the Personnel Management, “hello?” a female voice greeted you. Confused, you sat down on your chair, wasn’t the manager a man?

“Hello, I’d like to speak with Mr. Martin,” you said slowly, waiting for what would happen next. “He’s currently in a meeting with the boss, can I take a message?” This person apparently didn’t know who was calling. You ended the call and instantly went to the fifth floor.

Passing your secretary you told her to make a tea for you in exactly ten minutes, you would need it after what was about to happen.

As you waltzed through the halls all eyes were on you, they all knew someone was going to get fired.

Swinging the door open you saw Mr. Martin sitting at his desk and on his right was a slightly smaller desk with a brunette sitting there. She looked confused while her boss was frightened.

“So, this is your meeting I see…with your boss,” you closed the door behind you before looking at the girl, she wasn’t older than twenty, “and who are you?”

The girl smiled brightly, “I’m Oliv! I’m Mr. Martin's intern, and you are?” An intern? You never said it was allowed and everything like hiring an intern - or anyone - had to go over you first.

“Huh, Oliv do you get paid?” you asked instead to which she shook her head, “no, it’s just an internship.” You actually made a rule that even interns get paid.

It seemed like Mr. Martin was using the poor girl and that’s probably why he left at three o’clock PM everyday. You didn’t care how long your employees worked as long as they got everything done in time and correctly.

“You hired a young girl to do your work while you sit here and do nothing? I just looked into the files which had to be prepared by you and more than half are missing information. It is your job to make them and not give them to someone who has no idea what to do. You’re fired, pack your shit,” you were on the verge of yelling before turning to the girl, “you, with me.”

Oliv followed you quickly, scared she would end up with the same fate. “Wasn’t that quite harsh?” she dared to ask in a small voice, “sweetheart you haven’t seen harsh yet,” you stated and lead her towards Marketing.

You were well aware that the young girl wasn’t at fault which was why you would put her somewhere you knew she would be appreciated.

Opening the glass door you were met with a beautiful woman, tall, red hair and a charming smile. She was talking with the online marketing manager and didn’t even notice you until the manager's eyes widened.

Natasha Romanoff knew that meant you were right behind her, she turned around and instantly handed you papers. “Morning boss, sales are going up and we made three new deals this morning, just need you to look over it and give the okay,” her smile was gentle and calm.

She already heard about the first incident and well given she was on the same floor, meaning she heard you.

“Thank god someone knows how to do their job, I swear too many people here are idiots,” you muttered, quickly glancing over the papers, “I will have it to you after lunch meanwhile…here is your new intern.”

Confusion washed over Natasha’s face, she had interns before but not on this kind of short notice. “Oliv meet Ms. Romanoff, Nat this is Oliv. I’ll have your employment contract sent to you by the morning, if you have questions make an appointment.” With that you rushed back to your office.

You needed to get some of your own work done, fate had a different plan though. A soft knock on your door and Wanda - your assistant - popped her head in, “Stark is on the phone,” she said and quickly vanished.

Groaning you picked up the phone, “hello, Tony what can I do for you?” you tried to sound polite, nice and not annoyed.

For the next hour Tony Stark talked your ear off on new product ideas and how he could technically advance certain products.

Meanwhile you sorted through the files and looked over the deals Natasha gave you. A glance at the clock showed you it was finally lunch time and Tony was still talking. Letting your head fall down on the desk you buzzed for Steve.

“Yeah, Stark let’s have a meeting on this…I’m free on the twelfth September at nine o’clock,” just before you put the phone down you heard him protest and how it was only just May.

A few minutes later Steve strolled in, “please tell me you have good news…,” you begged desperately however got silence in response which gave you an answer.

“You know that fucking idiot Martin just hired a girl who had no idea what to and didn’t even pay, then all these files were wrong which leaves me to do that shit right and I have to fill another position,” you complained as you sunk back into your chair.

“Listen, you're my best friend's wife, I’m the godfather of your daughter and you really like me…maybe you should fire less people?” Steve sounded like a child in your eyes, with raised eyebrows you looked at him.

“Was that a question or a statement? If people knew how to do their fucking job I wouldn’t have to fire them,” you tried to remain calm and not snap at him.

Meanwhile Myra was in school having her lunch break, she played catch with her friends giggling every time she successfully catched someone.

Suddenly one of the older boys came up to her and pushed her, “hey that was mean!” she complained as she landed on her butt. The boy laughed at her, “are you gonna cry now?” he mocked Myra.

“No, I won’t waste my time on bullies,” she stated and stood up from the ground. Bucky always told her to never get involved and be the smarter one.

“I’m not a bully, you’re just weak,” the boy laughed and that was it for Myra.

She took a step forward and roughly pushed him, he was taken back, looking shocked, “little brat,” he snapped at her. Again she pushed him until he fell to the ground and that was when a teacher intervened.

However they only saw Myra pushing him and not the boy starting it, they took Myra to the principal where she had to wait for her parents.

Bucky was the first one they called as he was the closest, given he teached some of the older classes. As soon as he heard he came running, but one thing wouldn’t leave his mind; you would raise hell upon them.

A knock on your door had you lifted your head and saw Wanda walking in with a strained expression, “school called, Myra pushed a boy and said mean words…,” with that she left, not wanting your anger.

“Cancel everything today,” you told her as you rushed past her office and to Steve, opening his door he looked at you puzzled, “Myra has trouble in school, I’ll take the car!”

Before Steve could answer you were back on your way, but he quickly followed you, “but it’s my car! How will I get home?” He stopped when he saw the elevator close.

Steve walked over to Wanda, leaning against her desk with a charming smile, “mind taking me home later, scarlet?” The red-head wasn’t falling for it and instead leaned back in her chair, “she left you huh?”

The blonde let his head fall down in defeat, “yeah.” Wanda nodded with a little smirk and promised to take him home later.

You walked into the school with a heavy glare on your face, when you reached the principal's office you took a deep breath like Bucky taught you.

When you opened the door you already saw your daughter and husband sitting there with the blonde bimbo - seriously she was a bitch. “Ah, Mrs. Barnes! Nice that you could join us, I already told James a bit,” she also refused to call Bucky by his nickname or surname.

One glance at her showed you that she was undressing Bucky with her eyes already, yeah she also had some kind of crush on your husband.

It made you furious, but Bucky promised you he would handle it and you trusted him.

“Yes, I came as soon as I heard,” you told her and sat down on the other side of Myra who held out her hand to you smiling.

“Myra unfortunately pushed a boy from one of the older classes and said some mean words…,” she trailed off trying to sound sincere, she went to add something but interrupted her.

“And what did the boy do?” your tone was calm, “excuse me?” You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at her answer.

“My daughter doesn’t just push someone, what did he do?” you repeated yourself and grew tired of the woman claiming your daughter was completely at fault.

As the blonde was about to answer, Myra cut in, “I was playing catch and he came up to me and pushed me, he did! And said I was about to cry and weak,” at the confession of your daughter you raised your brows.

“Love, did anyone ask your side of the story?” the little one shook her head.

“Let me get this straight, you just saw Myra push the boy and didn’t think to ask the little girl for her side? What’s wrong with you, you just assume she started it? What kind of teacher are you,” you were livid and Bucky was unsure if he should let Myra sit outside.

Bucky instinctively put his hand over yours, “Myra why don’t you wait outside?” he gently asked his daughter who followed his request.

She left, but not before giving the principal one last dirty look. Myra was a smart girl and well aware of her mothers temper - after all it was where she got it from. A smile locked on her lips knowing you would give her quite a piece of mind.

As soon as the door closed and Myra was outside you let loose. “How can you even be a teacher huh? You’re obviously favouring students,” at this point you were standing with the chair moving back a little.

“Where are the parents of the boy? I swear to god if I get a call from them or anything related to my daughter where they complain, I will sue you and if I can’t I will raise hell!” your voice got louder with every second.

Bucky placed his metal hand on your waist drawing soft circles while his right hand moved up to your neck. The gesture helped you calm down.

The woman in front of you didn’t know what to say, her mouth hung open causing her to look like a fish. She was taken back, although she knew you had a temper.

“I asked you a question,” you stated, crossing your arms over your chest. “No, I’m not favouring students,” she sighed but didn’t answer your question. “That wasn’t a question, that was a statement,-” “James…,” she rudely cut you off and desperately looked at Bucky.

Bucky just gave her a glare, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t like how the principal cut you off and looked at him, as well as not answering your questions.

“You listen here, if my daughter gets any punishment but the boy doesn't, you won’t have your job for very long anymore,” you threatened her and successfully scared her.

With that you left the office, Bucky trailed behind you and after closing the door he cupped your cheeks, “sh, it’s alright, she doesn’t know a thing. I will look after Myra and make sure everything is fair, yeah?” His tone was soft and his movements so gentle.

You nodded and let your head rest on his chest, “office was crazy today and I stole Steve’s car,” you muttered.

He chuckled at your last words, “how’s he gonna get home?” he teased, you shrugged your shoulders in response.

“How about we go home for today mhm? Come on moya lyubov',” he walked you to Myra and told her about the plan, however on the way to the car Bucky remembered he had an appointment with some parents.

Cursing silently he told you to go home with Myra and he would come as soon as possible. What he forgot at that moment was that when you drove with her, she would come home knowing new words.

“All buckled in love?” Myra nodded with a wide grin and was already putting on her music in the car.

Just as you left the car your phone rang and interrupted Myra’s music, rolling your eyes you answered the call. Steve’s voice echoed through the car which had your daughter excited, “hello uncle Stevie! I pushed a boy today because he was mean and then got in trouble but mommy told them off! Oh! Can I sleep with you tonight? Pretty please, with a cherry on top? I promise to cook for you,” she began ranting.

Steve was a good cook, Myra only helped him. Though when she told stories, it was always her who cooked and Steve wouldn’t complain about it.

“Hey, there little troublemaker…didn’t know you’d be in my car with your mom,” his tone was calm and you knew he had a little smirk on his lips when he mentioned you taking his car.

“What do you want, Rogers?” you asked and his mood shifted, you could already feel something happened. “The online shop isn’t working,” he said, almost too quiet to understand, but you understood it perfectly.

“What!” you yelled, Myra held her hands over her ears at your outburst, “are you fluffing kidding me? Which potato sack did that? Why is that frying thing not working?”

Steve was sweating on the other side of the phone, “there is some technical issue, but Jensen is working on it and we actually didn’t wanna tell you but you’re the boss you gotta know, you know?” he ranted like your daughter when she was excited.

You desperately needed to get some steam off, this day was already chaotic and your blood pressure was too high.

“If you don’t have it fixed within an hour I will ban you from babysitting,” you said, you couldn’t fire Steve as he was one of your best but you could threaten him with Myra. “You wouldn’t,” “No, mommy!” Both said at the same time.

You leaned down to your daughter, “don’t worry nothings gonna happen, you can sleep at Stevies tonight,” you whispered and she nodded with a confused expression.

“You sure I wouldn’t Steve? Wanna test me?” you questioned him monotone to which he sighed in defeat, “I’ll have it done boss,” “good,” you hummed and hung up.

Myra put her music back on and sang along as you continued driving, suddenly a car in front of you harshly stooped, “you horse! Can’t you drive?” you snapped at him. Myra giggled at your words.

Once at home you helped Myra pack her things for later and finish her homework. As you looked over her papers you wondered how they could give the students homework over the weekend.

Thankfully the online shop worked again and your little girl could be with her favourite uncle. You had already called Bucky and updated him about everything.

Steve came around five to collect Myra, you ushered them quickly out of the house knowing Bucky would be home soon. As you waited for him you stripped off your clothes and sat cuddled up with a blanket on the couch watching Dynasty.

As Bucky walked through the door he expected you to welcome him, instead he found you on the couch.

“I see…want me to make you some soup or get you ice cream?” he tone soft as he made his way over to you.

The moment he’s close enough you unwrap the blanket revealing your naked body to him. Bucky stopped in his tracks, taking in your body. Slowly you stood up from the couch and walked towards him, you let your hand roam over his chest.

“I do want some cream though,” you whispered, kissing down his neck while unbuttoning his dress shirt.

His pants felt tighter with every kiss you laid upon him. Resting his hands on your waist he leaned into your touch, a part of him wondered what had gotten you in such a mood but he wasn’t one to complain.

“Mhm, then you should be a good girl and do as I say…,” Bucky trailed off and gripped your waist tighter.

“No, today I’m in charge,” you announced and pushed him towards the bedroom.

Bucky knew what that meant, you needed to cool down and let your anger out. He didn’t mind being the submissive, he liked giving all control away for once.

You directed him to lay on the bed, after he stripped all his clothes. The tip of his cock hit his lower abdomen, leaking with precum.

“Aww look at the effect I have on you,” you smirked as you climbed on top of him, “you have no idea how mad I am,” you whispered against his lips. “I know how mad you are moya lyubov', that’s why I married you,” his big hands cupped your cheeks, drawing you into a fiery kiss.

A moan slipped past his lips as you gently bit his lip, tugging on it. Your tongues fighting over dominance, you clearly winning.

His hands travelled along your skin sending shivers along your spine. Then his colde metal fingers found your sensitive bundle of nerves. “God you’re wet,” he groaned.

“Bucky,” you whined as you felt him take back control, not even intentionally it was you who let it slip away, “I’m in control,” you added.

Your husband growled and moved your hips to hover over his cock, “then take it,” he growled, “if you can’t take it here, how can you take it in the office?” Now he was mocking you, trying to rile you up and it was working.

“You think you can be in control? You’re too weak,” he whispered into your ear, that was it.

“Shut it! You think I can’t control everything, think I can’t be in control? Fuck you,” you snapped and lowered your hips onto his cock.

A pained moan slipped from your tongue, even after years it was still hard to adjust to his size. Bucky groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt. He would never get tired of feeling you stretched around him like this.

Once you had all of him inside you, you stopped needing a moment to breathe. “You will not tell me mock me, tease me or fucking anything. I’m in charge,” you said, determined and began moving your hips.

At first you had a slow pace but as the events of the day replayed in your head, your pace became harsher, faster.

“These fucking idiots, can’t do a thing right. What would they do without me? And that bloody teacher can suck my dick,” you panted heavily.

Bucky held on your hips as you drew moan after moan from him, the sounds only spurring you on in the most sinful way.

You wrapped your hand around his neck, you weren’t able to choke but at least a bit of pressure on his throat.

“That’s why you’re fucking my cock huh? You can’t control every-,” a slap against Bucky's cheek shut him up. The pornographic moan was something different, it felt good, made you feel like you had all the power.

“You like that? Like it when mommy slaps you?” before he could answer you gave him another slap against his other cheek. You never stopped moving your hips which only added to Bucky’s pleasure.

“Yes, I love it mommy,” he cracked, Bucky cracked and was fully pushed into submission.

A knot formed in your stomach at his strained voice, hoarse, needy and desperate for more. You picked up your pace and tightened your hold on his neck, chasing your needed orgasm.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” you breathed out as you threw your head back, “me too mommy,” just when you heard those words you stilled, “don’t you dare to come, baby,” you threatened him.

Bucky tried his best to hold back his high when you began moving again, “play with mommy's clit,” you instructed. Not hesitating, he pressed his metal fingers over your clit and rubbed tight circles.

You moaned loudly as your orgasm washed over you, “god, fuck, Bucky,” you nearly fell onto Bucky’s chest if it wasn’t for his hands steadying you.

"Mommy please let me come," Bucky begged after your orgasm. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, his cock twitching against your soft walls.

How could you deny him? He looked too pretty begging for you, "then come, come for me like a good boy," you whispered and leaned down, licking a long stripe over his cheek.

Bucky didn't come right away which made you slap his cheek again, "did I not say come?"

Then he groaned, biting his lip and drawing blood as he painted your walls white. You kept riding him, adding to his pleasure. Once you felt like his last cum was inside of you, you slowly stopped.

"Now…I'm not quite done with you…," you smirked. Bucky chuckled, he adored this side of you and was ready for another round, but he needed to eat first.

"Sounds good moya lyubov', but I need to eat first," he meant it honestly, with no dirty mind.

"Oh, I have something you can eat," you wiggled your eyebrows and Bucky knew exactly what you were talking about.

"God, I love you moya lyubov'," he sat up and pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss, "I love you too, my good boy," you answered, accepting the kiss gladly.

You truly loved Bucky, you couldn't even understand how you deserved a man like him. He was loving, gentle and calm. Without him you would be in a sour mood all the time.

He made you feel whole and didn't act like you were being overdramatic. Yes, you get faster riled up than others but what's bad about it?

Nothing and your husband who gifted you a wonderful and sweet daughter who may have be a little like her mother since forever – seriously she was vocal as a two year old – he knew that and would never make you feel bad about it.

𝑩𝑶𝒀𝑺 𝑻𝑾𝑶 — @smile1318 @wintasssoldier @xcaptain-winterx @georgiapeach30513 @alina02 @jobean12-blog @broadwaybabe18 @waddlenut @buckymcu12 @witchybabel @daemonslittlebitch @shara-ne

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |I do have a taglist however it has conditions that must be followed — you can follow @sstanhoe-updates for updated without anything

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #teacher!bucky barnes #teacher!bucky #ceo!reader #bucky barnes x ceo!reader #my cat lover bucky 🦾🤍

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syubub · 4 years ago

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May 13th Reading

Definitely long awaited and way bigger than I intended it to be so buckle up.

Funky disclaimer: this is for entertainment purposes only and not to be taken as fact! This is my interpretation of the cards!

Oh boy. The continuation of yoongis soulmate saga.

(Note frome future me: it's not proofread but I'm hungry. Sorry for mistakes!)

So so so so

Let's start.

I started with all the normal jazz. Connecting with his energy and shit. Same as usual same old same old. Platform= same same. I was like, "hey, let's talk about your soulmate and the whole may 13th shit" and we connected via energy stringy thing to the forehead and such. I was intresting bc my end of the string was kinda my energy color! Neato. Looks like some rest has really done me good!

Okay, here's where I start actually asking shit. I made notes at this point before the reading as I usually do. I'm just gonna insert the screen shot here.

The 14 thing really fucked me up. You'll see later. Also, when I got the whole Pisces Jupiter thing I had to do me some googling bc we established that Jupiter went into Pisces ON May 13th so I was like?? Am I missing something?

I was. I forgot that it goes retrograde and then co.es back to Pisces on December 28th. And I do indeed think it to be significant.

The shit about temperance makes a lot of sense. In yoongis first soulmate read I flipped my shit bc he was like, "You're gonna get temperance reverse" in regards to a card for his soulmate and I was like "pft whatever. Don't play me like that"

And then I got temperance reverse. It's been a significant card from the jump.

I asked him if he had any advice for his soulmate and that's what "Don't wait for big things, you'll miss the small ones that lead you to bigger things" and "Look for facts before assuming" and "Don't try pushing it, forcing it won't make sense" and "A spade is a spade/ ace is an ace" and "Don't make ill informed guesses" all were

Now this part:

"Union has happened , yet to on the physical"

Gave me some hints thankfully because he straight up said no more hints.

This ties back into the whole Jupiter thing too. The seeds are/ have been planted and now they have to grow before they can be harvested.

Well Mr. Yoongi, I'm impatient and I don't want to wait. I want to see you in love pronto.

Anyways

He showed me a little dream box/ trinket box looking thing and a super vague Keychain with no further explanation... so... there's that I guess.

I can't quite decide if "Don't make ill informed guesses" was a tongue-in-cheek pike at me or if it was genuine advice to his soulmate? He just loves to not explain things.

Now let's begin the monster read.

So. The first row of cards

I asked the question, "what the fuck was May 13th and what was it's purpose in regards to your connection"

Important is what it was lol. I interpret this as them finding their footing and this being the starting point of the genuine foundation being layer. Like they've been manifesting eachother for a while but May 13th marked the start of them making the real life changes in their actual lives that will be the set up for them meeting.

The seven of coins is about thoughtful planning and creating security/ stable plan. The tower is essentially ripping away anything and everything that was built on unstable foundation and challenging/ testing your character (an extremely rude awakeing if you will). Judgement is releasing the past so you can rise above it and confronting yourself as you are (Also legit awakening) the queen of coins is financial security and self confidence in your abilities. Ten of coins is prosperity and abundance and most of all, stability. Eight of wands is explosion of potential and rapid movement. Temperance is awareness and balance between physical and spiritual. It's also that quiet peace where you find balance.

So. Seeing all those cards it really does seem like maybe his soulmate took on something new that could lead straight to union? Same for yoongi. I'd like to analyze and recent or new-ish habits or hobbies he's picked up?

Moving right along though. I asked what the 13th did for each of them in their personal life and personal journey. Kinda like what came as a result of that energy? Let's start with yoongles

This was really intresting to me. I think he definitely gained some form of clarity about the situation with that sun card. The 5 of cups tells me that either he was kinda forced to confront some of his flaws in a way that he was trying to avoid or he had to consciously let go of something dear to him? Could be something he had to leave behind because it crumbled with the tower moment but he didn't see it coming or didn't know that it was time to part with it? With that queen of wands though fits beautifully with the sun! Its like he's found warmth after a long winter. Definitely found a spark of compassion and generosity from a place of happiness and love rather than anger, fear, obligation or pitty.

I asked for clarity cards/ anything else that may 13th signified bringing in and we got the 2 of cups and 10 of swords. I have two thoughts. Either he let go of a relationship that he was already in because he didn't feel as though they were particularly compatible anymore (Also ties into the above section) OR the 13th had made him very much consciously aware of his soulmates incoming status and he is now preparing and working on himself for when this person comes. The 10 of swords would be him releasing the past and the pain and any ill fitting behavior that don't vibe with him any longer. Yellow really seems to be working for him by the way.

Soulmate time

Lol. All signs point to his soulmate genuinely starting a new venture. New creative pursuit that will bring them good money. 10 of pentacles is abundance, prosperity and stability. The ace of wands is a new creative spark and passion and it's the first big steps into something new. The 2 of wands is "the world is in the palm of your hands" vibes. Choices need to be made swiftly and with the ace of wands I think they will be. With the heirophant too, it will be a well informed decision because they've been manifesting this and has been searching for all the possible information.

As for clarity, we have the moon. Damn. Soulmates been doing that shadow work. Dredging up all their bullshit and getting rid of it while still taking the time to sit with it and release it so nothing is unresolved. Also probably extra creative due to all the emotional baggage being thrown out. (Definitely helping with the ace of wands vibes tbh)

Now for the bad boys in the middle

The question I asked is what those individual changes (detailed in the last two sections) will bring for the bond and I just can with them. These fuckers. I am so invested in their love story bc it's so... them? And just so fucking ROMANTIC. UGH I CAN'T.

Back to the point. High priestess, 4 of wands and the lovers. The high priestess is deep knowing and insane intuition, the 4 of wands is the purest joy and marriage and the lovers is well, the lovers.a magical union.

FUCK DUDE I NEED THIS TO BE A ROMCOM.

For the row of bottom cards

I asked if they had anything at all to add so I'm gonna explain each card individually bc I think they could be individual tid bits of shit.

Knight of coins is good news about finances/ money looking promising and organized work (also dependability!!). Death is all about transformation, the beginning of a new chapter and accepting in order to move foward. Ace of coins is spiritual and material abundance and also a reminder to keep grounded. Page of swords is confidence, important news coming and really good insight! Roots out secrets or hidden things like a truffle pig. The star is promising potential, healing and guidance from an enexpected place. The two of cups is a soul connection, love, intuition especially in regards to another person and a good bind. The emperor is self awareness, foresight, fearlessness to achieve a goal and confidence. Eight of coins rev is poor discipline and skating by on low effort.

Now to the sides!

Yoongi is the left, soulmate is the right.

So, let's begin with yoongi. The first two cards are anything he wants to say to his soulmate. Wheel of fortune and three of swords reverse. I take this as "its all in divine time/ it's destiny" (wheel of fortune) and "trust your intuition. It's okay to get hurt, you just need to remember you can always pick yourself up" (3of swords rev.)

We have now cards that I asked what he was learning through this process/ in this time. Be positive and first step.

The last two cards are affirmations he wants to give his soulmate.

"When I introduce joy to a situation, I change the vibrational frequency of what's happening around me" and "directing my focus onto what's thriving creates more of what I want"

Now for soulmates cards (same structure)

Strength and eight of swords. "You're stronger than you think. Take every part of yourself and acknowledge it. You're a force to be reckoned with" (strength) and (soulmate snapped at him on this) "the only thing holding you captive is you."

Now we have peer pressure (I think soulmate is learning to say "fuck you" and "fuck off" to people who have a set idea of how everyone should be living their lives), emotional healing and open your arms to receiving.

Then we have "its good to feel good" (lol I feel like yoongi definitely needs this one) and "when I connect to the spiritual realm, I open the door to recieve divine guidance, clear direction, and great wisdom"

The last stretch my friends.

So. Completion, leave behind the things that no longer serve you. Exist in the present and don't keep mulling over the past or any future happenings. Magic, pay attention to the magic around you. Listen for the signs of the universe and take them as they come (essentially listen to divine guidance) . Be open minded but logical as well. Luminous warrior, try focusing on the good in yourself instead of berating yourself for every small flaw. Spiritual path, self explanatory. The blade, your power can be a weapon when used willy nilly (most often wounding the wielder) or it can heal. Don't fear it but also consider how you choose to utilize it. The give away, be greaful for the sake of being greatful for it, not because you want something in return. The rain maker, manifestation station. Create with the tools you have because you have everything you need in order to manifest. "Don't take life personally"

Now we have heaven sent.

""Let yourself be helped" assistance is coming your way so act on it and say yes"

" This Oracle also comes with the message that you are to trust in the things that you feel and say to others without knowing why. It moves them. You might not understand, but through trust you are allowing yourself not to overthink and censor yourself. As such you are able to become a vessel through which the spiritual gift can be passed on to others. Don't block yourself. Let life happen through you. Only benefit can come from this."

And free from judgment, free to love

" If you have been asking life for a solution to a specific difficulty you have been having, this Oracle comes with the message that a solution is in gestation right now. This situation is already being sorted out and the resolution will come to fruition very soon. Hold tight and wait for the eminent birth of that resolution."

" This Oracle also brings you a message about love. You may find that you are loving, or soon will love, in a different way. You may worry about this love, given that it defies what you have known or been taught about love. Perhaps you are becoming able to love another tremendously, even though you don't have much of a personal relationship with them. You might question if this love is real. It is real Kama it is just happening at a different level to the love and attachment you experience when you are involved in a personal relationship with someone. It is not more or less, it is just a different facet of love. It may be that you are opening up to love the planet and her creatures, including the animals, the ocean dwelling life, your own body, the trees and so on, more than before period you may feel passionately purposeful about giving your time and energy to causes that protect and nurture the Earth and her creatures. You are affirmed in this love too. The universal mother is operating through you to nurture life. She will support you in your work, so that you can continue To come from love and not become drained, depleted or lost in despair or fear of futility. Instead, you will be energised and expanded by your dedicated service to life."

" Finally, this Oracle has a message for those who may be feeling alone or lonely in a need of greater nurturing from others. You are asked to stop, relax, centre and settle into your body to feel your connection with life itself. The air in your lungs is the same as the air that moves through the trees. The water in your blood is the same water that fills the oceans and is moved by the phases of the moon. The flesh of your body is the same substance as the body of the Earth itself. The heat in your digestive system is the same fire and heat as that from the Sun. Feel this connection, then do something nice for another without agenda. Make a donation, even if just a small one, smile, say a prayer, sent out a good thought or make a wish for another. That's it. You have connected to life again and in doing so, life can connect with you. And so it shall.

And that's all for the cards but but but.

Someone (either my guide or yoongi) was like, "do a song. Do a song. Do a song." And I was like, "oki doki, sounds good.

So I asked what numbers I should try refreshing and then it hit me. The number 14 came up before the reading and it seemed a bit misplaced? So I did 14 shuffles and look what popped up

You gotta be fucking with me.

Istg these fools will actually be the death of me dude. Euphoria is so romantic and I lowkey feels like it describes a bit of what their bond must be like.

YOONGGGIIII

Anyway,

I came back to the platform to be like, "thanks homie" and it was weird bc he was practically pure energy? Like usually I visualize his energy as what his physical body looks like because it's easier to comprehend? But nope, he was just a big shimmery glob of energy.

As I was going to disconnect, a few things happened. I felt tingly and the platform was vibrating almost? So I was like, "hold on, what the fuck is this?"

And then

It hit me

"MIN YOONGI IS YOUR SOULMATE HERE??"

I could tell this fuckin asshole was smug even in his blue glob form.

The color was... blue like yoongi but also a light lavender/ pink kinda vibe. Pretty damn distinct.

I was so stoked and I thought we'd all get to chat and I could yell at his soulmate for being an elusive asshat

But Mr smug butt had different plans.

My dude dropped a little marble thing in my hand and I was like ??? And he was like, "you'll know when you need it" and I was like ?????

My guide took pity on me and said, "it's just a representation on information that you've been given but it isn't the proper time to unpack it yet"

Cool cool so like and energetic zip file that will release itself whenever it damn well pleases? Cool cool cool.

(Asshole)

Anyway, I genuinely think that my excitement of this whole situation must somehow also influence how yoongis energy handles my prodding? Like what the fuck is this marble bullshit?

To top it all off, he gives me a friendly shove off of his platform.

Thanks, buddy.

Now we are here. And as always, I'm left with more questions.

My main take away is that amay 13th through July 28th will be all the foundation and ground work and December 28th 2021 through May 10th (11th? 9th?) 2022 will be a more likely time for physical union and actual relationship stuffs.

Anyone who knows more about astrology please feel free to chime in on this whole Jupiter in Pisces bit! My understanding is super surface level!!

~~~~

That was a big boi and now my thumbs hurt real bad. Hope you were entertained by the chaos.

#bts #bts tarot #bts reactions #yoongi #bts imagines #bts readings #yoongi imagine #bts suga #min suga #suga #min yoongi

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

Note

Hi Clyde! I know this might be a bit late to the conversation but I just wanted to ask if you think M&K are writing Yang through a male lens? Not in the sense she's hyper-sexualised, but in the sense she lashes out at her allies without consequences (Fiona), has little empathy for female survivors of abuse (Salem and Blake) and gives her loved ones the cold shoulder when she doesn't agree with them rather than trying to reach an understanding (Blake and Ren).

Hi there, anon! No one is ever late to the conversation around here, not when I'm forever answering months-old asks lol

On the whole I would say no, simply because - as many others have pointed out in regards to other posts - this behavior is by no means seen solely in Yang. Ruby is out there lashing out in Volume 6, Jaune was giving Ren the same cold shoulder, no one else has expressed any empathy for the abuse survivors lately (though Yang might actually have a point in her favor there, given her talk with Weiss in Volume 5, when she learns about her mom's drinking). My point being, pretty much everyone is written with this classic masculine lens right now, where being angry, violent, and dismissive are framed as the correct way to approach problems, whether we're talking about Weiss shoving her weapon in Whitley's face, or Nora coolly brushing aside Ren's concerns. The exceptions being, to my mind, Ren - who learned this season that considering a kinder, more strategic approach is wrong - and Oscar who is embodying the archetype of the innocent child so fully that it allows him to forgive/grant absolution outside of the bounds of the story's internal logic and gendered expectations. Him reaching out to Hazel, Emerald, and even Ozpin is less a commentary on gender and more an extreme upholding of his status as the youngest and, comparatively, most innocent (which, as said previously, bumps up against Ruby's same, former status). Think Harry Potter, destroying evil with the love in his skin as an 11yo by merely touching Quirrel's face, not an older teenager hurling a dark curse at Malfoy while overflowing with rage. Oscar is still very much in that initial stage of being the young, baby-faced character who is not yet jaded and is thus able to overcome evil purely by wishing it so. Yet everyone else, including Yang, gets by on lies, secrets, violence, and anger - no matter how much the story wants to dress it up as heroics. So Yang is by no means alone in that.

What does interest me regarding Yang characterization right now is not, strictly speaking, about Yang. Rather, it’s about the presumed relationship with Blake and how changes to Blake’s character have reflected back on Yang. I won’t go into a full, eight season analysis of it here, but suffice to say, Blake’s personality has taken a sharp dive lately, most notably in the most recent volume. She used to be an opinionated, outspoken woman, the kind of person who marched up to Weiss in the middle of the street to denounce her family’s slavery, fighting for her people with as much intensity in a conversation as she gave on the battlefield. This is the woman who stormed off in anger at Weiss’ racism, demanded a solemn oath from Yang if she was going to believe her about the Mercury fight, rallied an army to defend Haven, set her own house on fire to defend her parents... I could go on. Blake used to only be quiet when it came to settling down with a good book. Now she’s far more meek and submissive. She’s been reduced to blushing prettily at Yang’s praise, begging Ruby to save her, going along with Yang’s plans for betrayal because she’s scared about killing again, clasping Ruby’s hands to assure her that she’ll save them all, etc. I use the term “reduced” intentionally because, on their own, there’s nothing wrong with any of these traits. If anything, Blake should be a more well-rounded character for being able to collapse crying over Adam, or go tongue-tied at a compliment. The problem lies in replacing her original personality with this new one: softer, less confrontational, less skilled, no longer as determined, no longer as angry, keeping to the background to play at comic relief or the damsel in distress. I bring all this up because - within the comparatively slim queer rep we’ve gotten in media - there’s a long history of writing them so that one is clearly the “man” in the relationship and the other is clearly the “woman.” This extends from visual markers like dividing them between assumed masculine and feminine clothing preferences - who wears dresses and who can pass for a boy in a baseball hat and sweats? - to caching in on equally assumed personality traits - who is the calm and compassionate individual; who has the temper and is constantly itching for a fight? To use two examples, think of couples like Sapphire and Ruby, or Kurt and Blaine. One is a cool blue in flowy dresses, always working to be sensible, while the other is an angry red in a sensible shirt and pants, easily pissed off. One is practicing a version of Beyoncé's “Single Ladies” in a sequined leotard, framed as the lady, whereas the other sings “Teenage Dream” in a suit at the piano, a song meant to appeal to the teenage girls watching, no matter the character’s sexuality. I’m simplifying a LOT here, including the context for the times (Glee) and the ways in which this divide is sometimes flipped (Ruby and Sapphire’s wedding), but my point is that whether authors realize it or not, they often force their queer characters into the gender binary, even while they’re supposedly meant to be challenging those norms. Blake and Yang, to get to a long-winded point, are becoming a part of that trend, wherein the closer they get to becoming a canonical couple, the more classically feminized Blake becomes. That, in turn, positions Yang as the “man” of the relationship. Already embodying some of those assumptions with her tough personality and brawl fight style, Blake’s regression into someone in need of rescue, someone less likely to speak up, someone who is visually positioned as less confident and in need of emotional care (think of her drooped ears and inability to make eye contact in “Ultimatum)” only increases that reading, especially given arcs like Yang’s insistence that she doesn’t need anyone protecting her, morphing into her becoming Blake’s protector instead. Yes, the dialogue states that they protect each other, but we all know RWBY struggles to show what the characters claim. Scenes like Yang arriving on a badass motorcycle to fight the majority of the battle against Adam, ending with her cradling a sobbing Blake who promises to never leave her side, or confidently taking Blake’s cheek in hand to comfort her after their not-fight, a moment of confidence and (unneeded) forgiveness... this all speaks volumes of something RWBY doesn’t think is there. So I don’t believe it’s intentional and, as said, there are a lot of complexities to take into account here, but I nevertheless don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’ve lost so much of Blake’s original personality right around the time the show got more serious about their relationship. As a presumed queer couple, there’s an instinctual desire to figure out which is the “guy” and which is the “girl” in the relationship, with Yang being positioned as the former the more Blake changes to fit the latter.

#rwby #mymetas

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 4 years ago

Text

stars in the sk(eyes)

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, Roman, Remus, Janus, Patton Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Analogical, background Intrualiceit Warnings: Language, food, like 1 line that’s maybe suggestive but also said half-jokingly Word count: 5592

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Logan has always loved stars. Virgil has always loved music. Maybe they can put those together with a little help from some friends.

Notes: Day 2 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read. Patton, Janus, and Remus are all nonbinary folks who use he/they pronouns and masculine terms in this universe (but in the flashback scene, Janus is only using they/them); Roman, Logan, and Virgil are all men who use he/him. (I know absolutely nothing about music or concerts or anything, so please don't roast me too hard for any inaccuracies, lol.)

They were only opening the concert; the real attraction was a band from out of town with a midsize following, making a stop on their tour. Not that Virgil was complaining to have landed this gig. It would be the biggest performance his band—the band he, Janus, and the twins had formed a few years ago—had given, by a lot. And that was exciting. Sure, Virgil had absolutely spent hours stressing over how big it was, but he knew how to manage his anxiety, especially when it came to performances, and the anxiety didn’t stop the excitement.

“You’re going to do wonderfully,” Logan had told him earlier that day as he’d been getting dressed, passing his fingerless leather gloves and then holding his jacket for him to slide into. He’d spoken it with a simple, unassuming confidence, as if it were a given fact. It had been more comforting than Virgil thought Logan knew.

With the memory of his husband’s words carefully nestled against his heart, and the jacket Logan had helped him paint rainbow stripes on sitting on his shoulders, Virgil found it easier to let go of the anxiety. Some lingering tension remained as he paced backstage, running through lyrics in his head and triple checking that everyone knew the schedule, but it wasn’t as bad as usual. Most of it, if he was being honest with himself, wasn’t even about the performance—it was about the surprise the band had put together, the surprise Virgil had had to bite his tongue a couple of times to keep himself from thoughtlessly mentioning it to Logan, even though the surprise had been almost entirely his own idea and the others were just helping. But he’d successfully kept the secret, and now Logan was out in the audience, and Virgil was backstage, and there would be no more chances to spoil it.

But Logan was out in the audience, and Virgil was backstage, and the final round of jitters was setting in. And when Logan wasn’t there, Virgil’s jitters took the form of pestering the hell out of everyone in the room, to make sure everything was perfect.

He checked all the instruments, giving Janus’s keyboard a once-over without touching because he knew better by this point. Remus’s drumset was already on the stage—he was drumming with his fingers on the end of the fallout table in the corner—so there was nothing to do about that. Roman was actively tuning his guitar, so Virgil left that alone too and instead checked his bass, just in case it had gotten out of tune in the last thirty seconds.

All of the instruments were fine, great, even, and Remus and Roman were undeniably being productive; Janus, who’d been on their phone in the corner, had stepped out for just a moment, probably to get a drink of water or something.

Things were in order. Which was good. Great, even. But it gave Virgil nothing to do with his restless energy.

“Are we ready?” he asked, jiggling his leg and tracing the pattern of his fishnet tights through one of the large rips in his jeans.

Roman looked up. “Yes,” he said shortly. Roman’s nerves tended to take the form of a very short temper, which didn’t mix well with Virgil’s perfectionism.

“Yeah,” Remus agreed, running a hand through his dark green curls and straightening his denim jacket.

“We all know the order things go in?” Virgil followed up after a minute of tense silence.

“Mmhm,” Remus said easily. Remus, and Remus alone, somehow always managed to remain at ease and unbothered no matter what. Virgil didn’t know how they did it.

Virgil took stock of everyone’s outfits. He himself was wearing fishnet leggings that went all the way up past his waist. Over them he had ripped black skinny jean, and a black crop top splattered with white paint. On top of that, he wore his black denim jacket, which matched the ones the other three were wearing. Virgil’s had the rainbow pride flag painted on the front, all down the lapel area; the rest of the jacket was covered in patches. He checked his makeup, examining the black eyeshadow and lipstick in his phone’s camera; it looked fine. Perfect, even.

Roman was the neatest of the group, made to stand out as the lead singer. He wore the same high-heeled doc martens as the other three, but in white where theirs were all black. He had a tight white longsleeve shirt made of a shimmery material and a matching pair of white pants, and the black jacket contrasting nicely against it all. Roman’s jacket had the aromantic pride flag where Virgil had the rainbow, and the rest of his jacket was painted with red roses all at the ends of long, intricate, thorny stems. His eyeliner was sharp enough to cut, and his curly hair was piled up atop a black headband wrapped around his forehead like a crown.

Janus still wasn’t back, but he’d been on the neater end too, to counter Virgil and especially Remus’s scruffiness. Their outfit was sleek and all black save for a thin white belt around their waist. A black hat with a broad round brim framed their face like a dark halo. His jacket had nonbinary and pan stripes on the front, and thin white squiggly lines running up and down like warped pinstripes everywhere else. (Virgil knew where on the jacket one line ended in a tiny snake head, and where one trailed off into a tail, but you wouldn’t notice unless you knew to look.) They were wearing black lipstick to match Virgil, and winged eyeliner to match Roman, and contour that emphasized the sharpness of his cheekbones; definitely the heaviest makeup of the group.

Remus, sitting in the corner and making noises to themself, was a sharp contrast to his boyfriend Janus’s sleek elegance. His black jeans, splattered with white paint to match Virgil’s crop top, were ripped almost to shreds, open nearly entirely from mid-thigh down to his ankles, with only a few clinging strands of fabric keeping them anywhere in the realm of being pants. The tee they wore—black again, with his own name painted on it in large white letters—was also ripped full of holes, these ones much more deliberate; he’d slashed it carefully with an exacto knife, kneeling on the ground and focusing with their tongue stuck out slightly, until it was exactly how he wanted it and you could catch glimpses of their top surgery scars when they moved. His makeup consisted of dramatic green and black eyeshadow, and his jacket had the trans and polyamorous flags on it—he and Janus, who had nearly identical collections of pride flags between them, had split two and two which color schemes they wanted to use. The rest of Remus’s jacket consisted of a few jagged holes and some incredibly detailed paintings of green tentacles.

The instruments were fine. The costumes were fine. The makeup was fine. What else did that leave for Virgil to fret over as the final minutes ticked away?

“How about the blocking?” Virgil said. “We can go over it again if anyone—”

“I promise we know, Virge,” Roman snapped.

“Come on, kiddo, you know he’s just trying to help!” piped up Patton, Janus and Remus’s other boyfriend, who was suddenly somehow present and sitting in Janus’s lap, his pastel outfit completely out of place amidst the varying edgy styles everyone else in the room was sporting.

“How did you get back here?” Roman and Virgil demanded in unison. Virgil hadn’t even noticed Janus was back, let alone that he’d brought Patton, who was supposed to be in the audience with Logan until the performance was over.

“Oops,” Janus said, not sounding even a tiny bit remorseful as they played with Patton’s dark curls.

“Did you leave Logan alone?” Virgil demanded of Patton, hands on his hips.

“Only for a minute! He’s getting snacks, anyway,” Patton said, wrapping his arms around Janus’s neck. “We both know where our seats are, he’ll be fine.”

“You already have a partner backstage, stop being greedy,” Roman scolded Janus. “Patton, you know we need to focus right now, can you please not distract my horny bandmates until after the show?”

“You sound like Virgil, with all that worrywarting,” Remus commented, snickering.

“Take that back this instant!” Roman demanded as Virgil gave Remus double birds.

Remus only guffawed, looking incredibly amused.

“Seriously, though, uh, Patton, with all the love in my heart: get out,” Virgil said.

Patton wrinkled his nose, but pressed a warm smack of a kiss to Janus’s cheek and hopped to his feet.

“Do I get a kiss?” Remus asked, reaching his arms out hopefully.

“Makeup—” Roman began warningly.

“I haven’t got any on my mouth!” Remus said triumphantly. “Suck it, Jan.”

Janus smiled wryly, fingers rising to but not quite touching their black lipstick that Patton had avoided so carefully. “The prices I pay for beauty.”

Patton giggled, crossing to Remus, clasping both his hands, and leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

“Great, you’re very very cute together but now is not the time, Patton get out and stop distracting your boyfriends,” Roman said, shooing Patton towards the door.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “High strung much?”

“Not all of us possess your—your stupid coolheadedness powers, Remus!” Roman snapped.

Patton paused in the doorway and pointed at Roman, getting out his dad voice. “Hey. Be nice.” The finger moved to Virgil. “Be nice.” His eyes flicked to Remus, then Janus, and his voice shifted to a different tone, half flirty and half joking. “You two be good boys.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god, I said to stop being horny!” Roman shrieked, chasing a giggling Patton out of the room and down the hall. He returned moments later, Patton-less and fixing at his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy. “We had better not have any more alloromantic bullshit from any of you until after the show is over!” he announced. “Okay?” He didn’t sound quite as annoyed as before.

“Homophobia,” Remus accused teasingly.

But instead of snapping back, Roman giggled. “Oh, shut up.”

The twins began joking back and forth, Janus making the occasional amused interjection. Evidently Patton’s intrusion into the room, although technically unhelpful, had done wonders to break the tension, and Virgil reminded himself to thank Patton later.

Virgil’s phone buzzed with a text from Logan.

Logan: Patton found me, don’t worry. Logan: How are you doing?

Virgil: hahahahahaaaa i don’t wanna think abt it

Logan began typing, then the little bubble went away; a second later, the phone began to ring, Logan’s caller ID plain to see.

“Hi, babe,” Virgil greeted.

“Hello, dear. Would you like to walk me through your plan for the performance, to reassure yourself?”

Virgil let out a small sigh of relief. “Yes, please.”

“I am listening,” Logan assured him.

Virgil took a deep breath and launched into a detailed itinerary, knowing that Logan didn’t mind if he got a little too technical in his terminology because Logan was listening for Virgil’s sake.

“And then that’s about it,” Virgil wound down, carefully leaving off the final item from his explanation. It wouldn’t do to spoil the surprise now. “Oh, looks like we’re getting ready now, gotta go.”

“I love you,” Logan said quickly. “You’re going to do a wonderful job.”

Virgil let out a short laugh. “Thanks, L. Love you too.” He hung up, set his phone down on the table, and picked up his bass.

“You ready?” Roman asked, nudging Virgil with his elbow, as the group finally headed towards the stage.

Virgil sucked in a long breath. “Yeah. I think so. Are you?”

“Oh, you know it!” Roman grinned, a spring in his step. He paused after a second and glanced back to Virgil. “Sorry for being so wound up earlier.”

“It happens.” Virgil shrugged. “Right back at you.”

Roman nodded and put a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Hey. He’s going to love it. Just wait and see.”

Virgil looked away, half smiling. “I sure hope so.”

“He will, I know it!” Roman insisted as they climbed the steps onto the stage and emerged into what could practically have been the eye of a hurricane, for all the noise and light that surrounded the stage.

The sky above was fully dark; bright lights everywhere in the area contrasted against it. There was a decent crowd. The venue seemed almost full, as a matter of fact. The observation added a thrill of adrenaline to compliment the goosebumps from the chilly breeze across Virgil’s bare midriff.

Roman stepped forward and spread his arms wide right as the spotlights came up. “Hey, folks, thank you for being with us here tonight!” he said, his smile gleaming in the bright lights and his voice booming in the speakers. “We have some great hits lined up for you tonight! Let’s get it started, huh?”

Virgil waited a few seconds for the cheer of the crowd to peak. Janus began the melody on the keyboard; Virgil came in with his bass at exactly the same second Roman began to sing, and Remus picked up the beat on the drums on cue.

Virgil was quickly able to get lost in the music, all his focus on playing and providing backup vocals, leaving him with no more brain space for his anxiety. This was his favorite thing about music: its ability to keep him in the moment.

They played three songs. Two covers that always went over really well, and one song that the twins had written together about family that always left Roman just a little teary. Normally that would be their closing song.

But tonight was a little bit different.

Roman took a step back, nodding at Virgil; the pair of them traded places onstage, putting Virgil front and center.

“So,” Virgil said, the mic on his cheek picking up his words, “we were thinking we’d let you all be the first to hear our new song. Uh, I wrote this one. And normally Roman does our singing, because—well, you’ve heard his voice. But this song is kind of special. I wrote it for my husband. So. We thought I’d perform it tonight.”

As Janus began playing the melody, Virgil searched the front row of the crowd, squinting against the lights, until he found Logan, sitting next to Patton and gazing up at Virgil with shining eyes. “Lo, I love you so much, babe. More than every star you’ve ever shown me.” He took a deep breath and began to sing.

***

10 years earlier

Unknown Number: Hello. This is Janus. Logan’s roommate

Virgil: how’d u get this number?

Janus: I broke into Logan’s phone after you started dating and saved you to my contacts just in case

[read 3:43pm}

[3:46pm]

Virgil: i Virgil: wtf dude

Janus: Your boyfriend has been moping in his room all day, can you please come fix it? Janus: Roman is starting to mope too for no good reason, but he’s doing it in the living room and at this point it is starting to affect my quality of life

Virgil: yk i literally could not care less abt that part u asshole <3 Virgil: i’ll be over in 15 Virgil: is he ok?

Janus: He won’t talk to me, I don’t know what happened

Virgil: i’ll be over in 10

It was normally a 12-minute walk from the dorm Virgil was an RA in to Logan’s apartment just off campus, but Virgil could walk fast when he was anxious or alone, and in this case he was both. Even taking the time to grab a jacket, he still made it to the building in nine minutes flat.

Janus let Virgil into the apartment almost the second he knocked, relief plain to see on their face.

“You see?” Janus said over their shoulder in a scolding tone. “I had to resort to outside measures to deal with your bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Roman whined from where he was slumped on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Netflix on the TV.

“Oh? And what’s this?” Janus demanded, hands on their hips. They dramatically pushed the button to open the microwave door, revealing a limp burrito wrapped in a damp paper towel.

“Lunch,” Roman mumbled defensively.

“You hate microwave food, and it’s four in the afternoon!” Janus snapped.

“I am in a creative slump, Jan! Have some sympathy!”

“No! Get your whiny ass off the couch and stop ruining my afternoon!”

Virgil took a deep breath and pointedly walked in between the pair of them down the hall towards Logan’s room. Roman and Janus’s still-bickering voices faded into the background.

“Hey.” Virgil knocked on the door, which had a piece of printer paper taped to it with Logan’s name written on it in blue sharpie and a couple of stars, both scribbles and stickers, scattered around it. He waited, and when there was no reply, he added, “Are you okay, Lo?”

“I’m fine,” Logan said, in a voice that had obviously been crying.

“Can I come in?” Virgil asked.

“Okay.”

Virgil pushed open the door and stepped into the dim room, closing it behind him. The blinds were closed, and Logan was curled up under a mound of blankets.

“Hey, baby,” Virgil murmured, kicking off his shoes and climbing to sit on the bed beside Logan and stroke his hair. “What’s wrong?”

Logan made a muffled noise of misery into the mattress.

“What?” Virgil said after a moment.

Logan rolled over. “Teacher didn’t like my essay.”

Virgil chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment. “Okay, I promise I’m not making fun of you, but you do know that that is possibly the most stereotypically you thing you have ever said to me, right?”

Logan let out a little huff that was not quite a laugh. “I guess.” He was silent for a moment as Virgil continued to stroke his hair. “And I know it’s stupid. I still got a B+ and my overall grade in the class is fine and I know I’m a good writer and everything. But it sucks. I was really proud of it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Virgil said, choosing to ignore the squirm in his gut that always happened when grades came up. It was so easy to compare or to worry about others comparing and then to worry about others getting upset over comparisons and—he dragged himself back to the present, forcibly setting the issue aside. “You’re allowed to feel upset,” he told Logan. “About anything that upsets you. Even if you wouldn’t choose it.”

Logan didn’t respond, but after a minute his hand snaked out from under the covers and grasped Virgil’s.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Virgil asked, struck with the idea.

“Huh?”

“A walk. Get out of your head for a little bit and hang out. We can talk if you want, or just be together.”

Roman’s voice grew particularly loud outside, and Virgil picked out a teary, petulant, “I hate you!”

“Plus it’ll get you away from that energy,” he added wryly.

Logan drew in a breath and sat up. “Alright. Let’s do it.” He pulled out a denim jacket while Virgil put his shoes back on and retied the laces. They made their way out of the apartment, hand in hand.

Roman was on his feet now, releasing an angry tirade at Janus, hands clenched into fists and sounding on the verge of crying, the TV remote cast on the floor beside him. Janus was sitting on the kitchen counter with arms crossed and an intimidating glare on their face.

“Hey!” Virgil snapped, and Roman cut off abruptly. “Eat some food,” Virgil told him on a hunch. Sure, Roman could be a little immature at times, but this was on a whole different level, and a lack of food seemed like the simplest culprit.

Virgil looked over at Janus, to make it clear that they weren’t off the hook either. “We’re going out. You two better make up before we get back. Clear?”

“You can’t tell us what to do—” Roman began stubbornly.

“Janus literally called me in to fix all your problems, so yeah. I can. Also open your windows, it’s gloomy as fuck in here.” Virgil opened the door and held it for Logan, tossing one last glare over his shoulder at Roman, who looked dumbstruck, and Janus, who avoided eye contact.

Logan was quiet as the two of them walked down the stairs and exited the apartment building, hands in his pockets (one still clasping Virgil’s) and eyes on the toes of his slip-on shoes.

“Wanna talk?” Virgil asked.

Logan tilted his head to the side for a moment, his thinking face slipping over his features, and then shook his head.

Virgil nodded. “Okay.” He fished in his pocket for his earbuds and plugged them in. “Let me know if that changes, okay?” He received a small nod and turned on his go-to playlist—a 12-and-a-half-hour-long composition of all his favorite emo songs that he could loop without having to put any thought in.

The two of them wandered through the streets, hand in hand, music blaring in Virgil’s ears and Logan’s fingers soft and warm against his. They made their way towards downtown; their university was in a small city, and it was pretty walkable.

As they walked, weaving around and across different blocks, occasionally stopping to peek into particularly interesting shop windows, the tension in Logan’s shoulders slowly began to relax and his gaze migrated from the toes of his shoes upwards to take in the surrounding scenery. Virgil felt himself relaxing in turn. The subdued, almost sullen look on Logan’s face was beginning to shift back to his typical bright-eyed curiosity, which meant that while maybe not all was right with the world, a whole lot was right with the world.

As the sky began to darken, Logan’s pace quickened with sudden purpose—but he didn’t lead Virgil in the direction of the apartment. Instead, he headed in almost the exact opposite direction. Virgil was lost for a moment as to where they were going, until the park in the center of downtown came into view. Ah. That explained it. He was kind of glad; he didn’t feel ready for the quiet time they were spending together to be over.

A scent caught his attention as they entered the park, and he tugged gently at Logan’s arm, nodding towards the mediterranean food truck. A small smile answered him, and a nod, and the pair of them made their way over. They both ordered gyros—Virgil chicken, and Logan, who was trying out vegetarian food, falafel.

Fifteen minutes later, seated side by side on a park bench and finishing the last of their sandwiches, Logan cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Virgil bumped his shoulder against his boyfriend’s. “Of course, babe.”

“I am feeling… better,” Logan said cautiously, as if he were testing out the words in his mouth to see if they felt true.

Virgil nodded. “Better is good.”

Logan nodded, eyes moving to the sky, which was now almost fully dark except for a streak of orange sunset leftover on the horizon. The stars were out, at least the brightest ones that could be seen even past the floodlights placed every so often across the park.

“You like space, and shit, right?” Virgil said, scooting closer to Logan and dragging his arm to wrap around Virgil as he rested his head on Logan’s shoulder. It was a bit of a rhetorical question, since he knew Logan had an astronomy minor and was the vice president of the astronomy club and had gone on no less than three eager rambles about space in the last month alone, but one could always do with a conversation opener.

Logan blinked and looked down at him. “I do.” You know this, his tone said, a little puzzled at the question.

“What star is that?” Virgil pointed at a particularly bright one, although he wasn’t paying nearly as much attention to the star as he was to Logan’s face.

Sure enough, Logan brightened, his eyes more interesting than any star. “Oh! That’s not a star at all—it’s actually Mercury!”

“Really?” Virgil asked, grinning and scooting closer.

Logan wrapped his arm a little more tightly around Virgil’s shoulders with an answering smile. “Yes, and it’s actually very fascinating…” And just like that, he was off, words spilling out of his mouth at a breakneck pace, gesturing eagerly with his free hand to emphasize his points.

Virgil listened, doing his best to follow along and asking a few questions whenever Logan started to wind down, but mostly just happy to watch his boyfriend’s lips as he excitedly infodumped, and his eyes, too, alight with delight, the frustration of the disappointing grade all but forgotten as he held Virgil and told him stories about the night sky.

It was nearly ten at night by the time they made their way back to Logan’s apartment, chatting back and forth in quiet voices and giggling. Logan broke off as he opened the door and got a look inside; he glanced over his shoulder at Virgil and put a finger to his lips.

Virgil hushed and followed him in, then saw what the need for quiet was: Janus and Roman were asleep on the sofa, Roman sprawled on his stomach on top of Janus with his limbs everywhere and his face buried in Janus’s chest, Janus with their arms wrapped around him and a throw pillow propping their head up and a worn copy of Crime and Punishment flopped over from where it had clearly been propped up on Roman’s back.

“Precious,” Virgil commented softly as Logan picked up the book, tucked a bookmark off the coffee table into it, and set it down with the tender care he seemed to reserve exclusively for books and Virgil.

Logan smiled. “They are, rather.” He looked down at his roommates. “Sometimes I wonder why I picked the two most dramatic people I know to live with.”

“Sometimes like this afternoon?” Virgil said with a chuckle.

Logan snorted. “Maybe. But then they do things like this, and I remember why I like them.”

Virgil noticed something on the tiny kitchen table. “Or this?” He pointed.

Logan came over to examine what Virgil had found. “Oh,” he breathed, a smile spreading across his face.

A plate of cookies sat on the table, together with a hastily handmade card.

“Sorry :( ❤️” it read in large, expressive cursive, and beneath it in smaller, neater handwriting, “I actually didn’t do anything wrong, but these are for you and I did the dishes, also you’re welcome for the date night.”

Logan laughed quietly, taking a cookie and offering the plate to Virgil, who accepted one cookie—they looked to be snickerdoodles. “Yes. Things exactly like this,” he said. He took a bite of the cookie and raised his eyebrows. “Not bad.”

Virgil grinned and leaned over to kiss him. “Not bad at all,” he agreed, pulling away.

“I literally gave you your own cookie,” Logan whispered, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yeah, but it tastes better this way.” Virgil winked, mainly for Logan’s reaction—he pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling an amused smile that was still visible in his eyes. “I should go,” Virgil added, glancing at the time. It was Sunday tomorrow, so he didn’t need to worry about how late he was up, but he disliked walking home at night.

Logan nodded, taking another cookie and pressing it into his hand. “Text me when you get home?”

“I always do,” Virgil said, accepting the cookie and a goodnight kiss that still tasted just faintly of cinnamon and sugar.

And he did just that; he always felt a little awkward simply texting “I made it home,” or the like, so he usually tried to come up with interesting questions to send to Logan instead. Tonight, it was:

Virgil: hey Virgil: if u could pick one Thing u always wanted to do Virgil: and get a guarantee that u’d get a chance to do that thing no matter what Virgil: what would u pick?

Logan: Fascinating question! I would like the opportunity to name a star. Logan: I don’t imagine it will ever happen in real life, but I’ve always thought it would be… cool, for lack of a better word.

Virgil: ghfdkjghksdhj i will never be over ur love for space Virgil: u have a Brand and u stick to it

Logan: Well, a brand is important in life. :-) Logan: What about you? What would you pick?

Virgil: i think it’d be neat to be in a band Virgil: idk Virgil: like i don’t wanna be super famous or anything but like Virgil: being in a band would be neat Virgil: yk?

***

Ten years later, Virgil sang the last lines of his song looking right at his husband. “And I don’t even need to look to the skies/Because all of the stars are in your eyes.”

The noise around him didn’t fade away like in the movies; to the contrary, the cheering was so loud it was almost hard to focus. But Logan’s face was absolutely alight—Virgil couldn’t be sure at this distance, but he thought Logan might even be tearing up—and he was looking at Virgil like he was his whole world. Even with the bright lights and overwhelming sounds all around, it was easy to focus on Logan in the midst of it all, Logan pressing a hand to his mouth but smiling too wide for anything to hide it, Logan leaning into the side-hug that Patton—oh, and there was Patton, right beside him—was offering, but never taking his eyes off Virgil. Logan looked so happy, even though Virgil knew concerts weren’t really his favorite type of event, and Virgil was hit right in the chest with a renewed realization that Logan was Virgil’s whole world and damn, Virgil wanted to make sure everyone knew it.

But their time onstage was up, and the next few minutes were a bustle of packing equipment away and cleaning up the space they’d been allotted backstage, and it all went by in a bit of a blur, helped along by the remnants of Virgil’s performance mindset and slight overstimulation—though that was getting better now that he was offstage.

Virgil took a quick break, when the bulk of the urgent work was done, to just stand in the empty restroom and breathe for a moment, the noise of the other band who were now onstage thudding in the background so quietly he could hardly hear it. When he’d fully composed himself, feeling much calmer, he took a deep breath and headed back out.

On his way out, he ran into Roman, pushing a dolly with a box on it. “Oh, good, there you are,” he greeted Virgil. “Can you—oh, for crying out loud,” he broke off, looking ahead.

Following his gaze, Virgil snickered as he saw Remus, leaning against the wall with their hands clasped behind his head, grinning down at Patton, who was leaned forward, bracketing Remus with his arms, looking up at him and speaking, although Virgil couldn’t hear him from here.

“We still have work to do,” Roman said under his breath, but the exasperated gaze he leveled at the pair was altogether far too fond to have much real bite.

Virgil’s mind was on other matters; if Patton was here, that meant—

“Lolo!” Patton’s voice called brightly; he’d seen Roman and Virgil and stepped back from Remus, waving happily at the pair of them. “Virgil’s here!”

At the sound of Patton’s voice, Janus emerged from the room, a little further down the hall, that had served as the headquarters for the band. He bent to give the tiny man a kiss, then turned to Remus for another kiss.

Logan popped his head out just a moment behind Janus. “Virgil?” He brightened when he saw Virgil’s face, and stepped fully out into the hall. He hadn’t changed from his work outfit, still wearing a button down with the sleeves rolled up, a tie, and a pair of jeans, and a smile that he looked like he couldn’t wipe off his face.

He was still the handsomest man Virgil had ever seen.

Virgil looked to Roman. “Permission to get back on my alloromantic bullshit, captain?” he asked teasingly.

Roman rolled his eyes and swatted Virgil’s shoulder. “Go be cute,” he said benignly.

Virgil took off down the hallway to Logan, not quite running; Logan took a few steps to meet him, and Virgil caught him in a hug so eager he actually lifted the taller man off his feet for just a second.

Logan, half-laughing with surprise, grasped Virgil’s shoulders for balance as he regained his feet. “You wrote me a song?”

“Did you like it?” Virgil asked, holding him tightly.

“Virgil, I—” Logan seized Virgil’s face in his hands and kissed him.

Virgil wrapped his arms more firmly around his husband, kissing him back exuberantly and swaying slightly back and forth.

“It’s perfect,” Logan told him, breaking away only just far enough to speak. “You’re perfect.”

Virgil grinned, reaching up to run his fingers through Logan’s neat hair. “Careful, you’ll spoil me.”

“I don’t think I could ever do that,” Logan told him seriously. “It’s not spoiling if you deserve it.”

And really, what was Virgil supposed to do about that except kiss his husband again?

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smediumsmeatbae · 5 years ago

Text

Tremble (One Shot)

TITLE: Tremble PAIRING: Chris Evans x Reader SUMMARY: Chris' anxiety throws him for a loop but you know how to make him feel better WORDS: 2.3 K SONG USED: Oh Baby by LCD Soundsystem WARNINGS: Mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, light angst (if you squint), SMUT SMUT SMUT (no one under 18, please!) A/N: This is my first for a couple of things. This is my first smut fic, constructive (read CONSTRUCTIVE) criticism is welcome. (Praise is awesome too lol.) And secondly, this is the first fic I've used with a song running through it. I really enjoyed writing this and loved using the song through it. It might be something I do again in the future. This is also a submission for @jtargaryen18 's 30 Days of Chris. Thanks to her for hosting such a wonderful writing challenge and it's been super fun this whole month. This is not to be posted anywhere else without my permission. Reblogs/likes/comments loved and encouraged. Sort of been proofread. Any grammar mistakes are my own.

--------****--------

There was a hush in the air that night as you sipped your glass of bourbon out on the back porch of your Boston home you shared with your husband Chris. He was due home in a few hours and you couldn't wait to see him, so you were trying to distract yourself with your favorite spirit and a book that Scarlett had lent to you. You tried to focus on it, you really did. However, as you re-read the same sentence about five times, that was proving to be a fruitless venture. You let out a small huff of restlessness and placed the book down on the patio table before taking a quick sip of your drink and opened up your phone. Maybe catching up on some work emails could distract you enough. Before you could open up the email app, though, you noticed that you had a message. It was from Chris! You smiled and tapped on the icon to open up the message.

CHRIS: Just touched down, got an earlier flight. Can’t wait to see you. Tour’s been rough. Should be there in about 20-30 mins.

Your belly was full of butterflies as you read the message. He was going to be home! His arm around you! In twenty minutes! You tapped on the reply button.

YOU: Yay! I missed you so much babe. Can't wait to see you too! ❤

It had been so long since Chris had been home. You missed the way he sang 80's pop music when he made pesto eggs in the morning, how the bathroom smelled vaguely of his cologne and soap - one of your favorite smells - after a shower, and how he would tickle you into submission after you had any argument with him. You also missed the way he caged his sculpted arms around your head and stroked your hair gently away from your face as he made love to you. God, how you missed sex with Chris; you craved it. Facetime was great, sure, and it helped temper the desire but it could only do so much. It couldn't give you the heat of his body melting into you or how he held you close, almost protectively, as you came down from your orgasm. You couldn't wait to feel him again and would probably jump him as soon as he got home.

As if Chris could sense that you were thinking about him, you heard the door unlocking and the sound of keys being tossed on the entryway table as well as suitcases and backpack being set down in the foyer, making a noise on the hardwood floor. You excitedly went towards the noise to see your tired husband standing in the foyer.

"Baby!" You yelled as you ran towards Chris. You threw your arms around his neck and drew him close to you as you nuzzled your cheek to his shoulder, smelling his cologne and feeling the soft fabric of his shirt on your cheek. He grabbed you back in turn and buried his face into your neck and clung onto you, taking fistfuls of your shirt into his hands. You noticed after a second, that his body was tense. He was also slightly trembling against your body and he was hanging onto you like you were his salvation.

"Chris?" You asked gently, pulling away your face in concern. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Oh baby You’re having a bad dream Here in my arms

You cupped his face in your hands. He easily was a head taller than you but in that moment, he seemed so small, like a scared little boy that needed to be protected and loved. His eyes were cloudy and glazed over- he looked like he hadn't slept at all last night.

You came to me Could all be a bad thing And do you harm

"I'm… I'm ok, just really tired." He gave you a small smile but it wasn't working; you could see something was really bothering him. You knew your husband too well; that, and he was a terrible liar. He started to let you go and go back towards the foyer to grab his stuff and unpack from the press junket.

"Babe, please. Talk to me. What's really going on?" You folded your arms around your waist and spoke to him, not judging, just wanting to understand and help.

He slumped down and let out a sigh, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"I just… need to decompress for a second. Can we not talk about it for now, please?" His eyes were pleading with you and your heart broke a bit. You wanted to reach out and hold him but instead you nodded and dropped your hands from your waist as if to say you were giving in to his request.

You run from me Shot in the dark Please wake me For my love lies patiently Please baby please

You had a feeling you knew what was going on. Chris had issues with anxiety and he said earlier the tour was rough, didn't he? How bad had it gotten? He was usually really good about keeping his anxiety in check with some form of meditation and relaxation. What happened? You followed Chris into the living room where he turned on the tv, wanting to get out of his head a bit. Sitting down next to him, you wrapped your legs under you and nestled yourself into his side, letting his arm drape over you. You felt his chest rising and falling, missing so very much this feeling of closeness that you had not had since he left one month ago. One long month. He absentmindedly kissed the top of your head and stroked your shoulder lazily with his thumb. It was like the anxious person that came in from the tour was gone and Chris, your Chris, was back. At least on the surface. You knew that he was trying his best to bury it for the time being until he was able to talk about it.

You came to me Are you having a bad time? There in your home

"The junket was… A lot." He finally spoke after a long time. "There wasn't really any time for breaks, and they just kept pushing us with more and more and more interviews and meet ups and Q&As and pictures…" You could feel his body tense up the more he talked about it. "It didn't stop. And I did my best to push it down, I made a commitment to be there and I was going to see it through, but man that last day… yesterday. I just couldn't do it anymore. I had a panic attack in between one interview waiting on another and I had to get out of there." There was a hitch in his voice that wasn't there before and you moved from your position to straddle him and hold him close. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pushed your hands through his nape and massaged it, an act that instantly calmed him down. He let out a breath, seemingly one that he had been holding in for eternity, and wrapped his arms around you, nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

Oh sugar Give in to me You're just having a bad dream

"Shhh, it's ok baby. I've got you." You cooed as you held him close. "Let it all out, I'm here love."

He gripped onto you and you could feel your tshirt and neck becoming wet with tears as he quietly sobbed into your shoulder. Your big man; your confident, funny, passionate, smart, loving man was shaking in your arms. You cradled his head and rocked him from side to side, wrapping your legs around his torso to feel him closer, closer, closer to you.

Oh but please Please shake me from my lovesick patient dream Please baby please And my love plays wait and see

He lifted his head up to you, lashes wet with tears and eyes still misty, kissed you softly. His hands unclenched from your shirt and they ran up your back, searching, needing, wanting to hold you. His eyes met yours, wordlessly asking and you nodded, needing to make this better, if only for a short while. You cupped your hands to his face, rubbing his cheeks with the pad of your thumbs and kissed him gently at first, then with more urgency. You opened your mouth and let your tongue explore his bottom lip before he opened his mouth for you to gain access. Tongues danced with each other for a bit, you moaning into his mouth.

Chris was pulling at your over-sized shirt, and you obliged, lifting your arms up and letting him remove it. It was actually his old shirt, but you wore it, especially when he was out of town, because it smelled like him. With your shirt off, you reached for his as he unclasped your bra. You were so hungry for skin on skin contact, to feel his sculpted upper body next to yours. Soon, you were both bare chest to bare chest, your hands massaging the nape of Chris' neck while you licked and nipped at his collarbone, the fingers of your free hand playing in his chest hair. His hands were on your ass, grinding you up against him. You could feel the prominent bulge beginning to form in his pants and you melted from the sensation, matching his grinds with your own.

“I missed you so.. Much.” He groaned into your ear as he squeezed your cheeks and buried his face into your breasts, kissing and sucking; marking you as his.

“Oh, I missed you too baby.” You gasped out as your hands scratched his shoulders and down his back making him hiss. You felt your wetness soak your panties. “I’m here, Chris. I’m all yours, my love.”

You wanted to let him take the lead, take what he wanted from you. There would be time tomorrow for talking and kissing and exploring each other anew all day, but tonight you wanted to make his entire trip melt into a distant memory. You guided your hands down his magnificent pecs and abs to his belt buckle. He adjusted himself so that you could zip his pants down and get his hardness into your hands. You both moaned out when you cupped him into your hands.

“Need you.” You heard him rasp out, nipping your jaw. You looked into his eyes and they were dark and lust blown. You nodded with a whimper, needing him just as much too, needed the familiar stretch that you had been longing for since he had left a month ago.

With one arm, he lifted you up with ease, helping you off of the couch while you both got rid of the bottom half of your clothing. Chris eased himself back onto the couch and you had to restrain yourself from just jumping onto him as you straddle back over his waist. You took his head in your hands and crashed into his mouth with passionate kisses, with teeth and tongues and biting lips, fighting out for dominance on who was giving the better kiss. His thick arms were back around your waist and butt. You put your hands on his chest to steady yourself as you lifted yourself up and positioned yourself over his manhood. He helped guide you and in one swift move, you felt him inside, stretching you deliciously. You both moaned out, chests heaving at the sensation.

“Oh fuck baby.” Chris groaned as he bit down on your shoulder. “Feel so good… so tight for me.”

You started to move your hips, and Chris put his big hands on either side of your waist, guiding you up and down on his cock. Putting your hands on the back of the couch to steady yourself, you matched him thrust for thrust. Your forehead pressed against his lightly for a second as you kissed him again. He adjusted himself a little bit more on the couch so that he could hit you deeper and you shouted out as he hit your g-spot over and over.

“Oh god, Chris yes! Right there!” panting heavily you sped up your rocking. You were so close to ecstasy, and you could feel from the twitch in his cock as you moaned out his name that he was close too. He matched pace with you and slammed into you with all he had.

“C’mon baby, cum for me.” His voice was low and intense. He took one hand off of your hip to dip down between your thighs and rub tight circles onto your clit with his thumb. That was all it took and you cried out, your whole body shaking and pulsing as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to you. Feeling your walls grip around him was enough to push Chris over the edge as well and he let go, moaning out your name as his strong hands went up your back and pulled you down to him.

Oh baby Lean into me There's always a side door Into the dark Into the dark, shh

Once both of your breathing had returned to normal you parted from his embrace and scooted off of him, feeling him slide out of you. You got up from the couch and walked into the bathroom for a wet washcloth to wipe up with. Finishing with that, you nestled down next to his side, running your hands across his naked torso, blissfully loving how his breathing was way more peaceful at that moment then when he came home. He pulled you close to him and dipped down to kiss your lips tenderly.

“Welcome home, Chris.” You sighed and ran your hands through his chest hair.

--------****--------

TAGS: @angrythingstarlight

#jtargaryan18 #30 days of chris challenge #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fandom #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x female!reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans smut #rpf #actor rpf #american actor rpf #smut #smut fiction

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dudeandduchess · 5 years ago

Note

For the fluffy/blushy sentence starters, can I request, "I'm so in love with her, I don't know what to do," said by Kyojuro or Sanemi to either Uzui or Mitsuri about their Hashira!S/O who they're admiring from afar and are too lovestruck with them to talk to them normally (Sanemi would probably have to be drunk to confess this to his colleague lol). Thank you so much! I love your writing!

Hope you like it, bby! You’re very welcome!!! 🥰🍉

***

Sanemi x F!S/O: "I'm so in love with her, I don't know what to do” (Fluffy/Blushy Starters, SFW Scenario)

Warning: Drinking/Drunken Shenanigans

The night was much colder than usual, wrapping everything in a cool wonderland as the imminent threat of snowfall loomed in the air. It provided a good enough excuse for all of the Hashira to take an odd last-minute retreat to the Sword smith village for their hot springs, and it also gave them the excuse to indulge in a bit of warm sake to ward the chill away.

Everyone had been drinking together for a while, until all of the female Hashira— Kanroji, Kochō, and (Y/n)— had decided to call it an early night. It left the men— save for Tokitō and Himejima— to their own devices in the spacious hall that had been provided for them.

However, a fun night of drinking and trading insults had taken a much more entertaining turn when the Sound Hashira had brought up one of his observations, if only to mess with the completely sloshed Wind Hashira.

Sanemi’s entire body felt overly warm from the sake— all the way from his toes and up to the tips of his ears. His words had long become nothing more than slurred sentences, and his movements made it even more evident that he was completely and utterly drunk.

It really was a sight to behold, especially to his fellow Hashira who rarely saw him in such a state.

“What’cha say, huh?” Sanemi asked in a drawl, all while lifting the cup of sake to his lips; tilting the porcelain and barely missing his lips as he downed the shot. It warmed his throat on the way down, but he paid no mind to the slight drag that it also brought with it; instead, opting to turn his full attention towards Uzui— whom was grinning so mischievously.

“I’ve seen you looking so much at (L/n) as of late,” Uzui answered bluntly, not even bothering with any modicum of politeness or subtlety as he laid his question bare. “You used to be good at hiding it. You like her or something?”

The Wind Hashira’s eyes widened at that, before narrowing as his eyebrows furrowed together in mild frustration at being caught. If he had a say in it, he would have preferred to keep everything a secret— at least, until he could muster up the courage to confess.

“Oh, Shinazugawa likes (L/n)?” Kyōjurō asked aloud with a boisterous laugh— earning Sanemi’s ire, as well as his glare.

“Shut up, I-”

“You don’t?” Obanai decided to join in with the teasing, purposely riling the other man up for his own amusement.

“I don’t, alright?” It was such a blatant lie that had everyone, even Giyuu— whom was slowly on his way to getting drunk because Rengoku kept plying him with drinks— laugh.

Normally, Sanemi would have already kicked Giyuu out the moment he stepped into the room, but Kyōjurō always insisted to keep the other man with them— so as to promote friendship with the Water Hashira. In his opinion, it was just scarring Giyuu to keep seeing the Flame Hashira in unmentionable states of drunkenness— but if he had to suffer seeing that, he reckoned that Giyuu could suffer too.

“If that’s the case, then it’s alright if I confess to her, right?” Kyōjurō really wasn’t being serious about his words— it was all for the sake of fun. And to add to his words, he pushed up off the floor and padded towards the closed shoji behind him.

Sanemi could only grit his teeth at that, feeling irritation and jealousy bubble up within him as he reigned his temper in. He wasn’t going to be goaded into admitting his real feelings, ever.

“Be sure to ask her to go to the upcoming festival in her village.” Uzui added kindling to the fire inside the Wind Hashira, which had the aforementioned man clicking his tongue and slamming his hand down on the table.

His actions had Kyōjurō stopping right where he was— with his hand ready to slide the door open. “If you like her, Shinazugawa, I won’t do it.”

Sanemi clicked his tongue once more at the jibe, preferring to ignore it because he knew that Rengoku— of all people— wouldn’t do that to him.

But the way that the Flame Hashira slid the door open had him panicking and blurting out, like a complete and utter fool, “I’m in love with her, okay? I’m in love with her, and I don’t know what to do!”

It was too late, however, because Kyōjurō had already slid the door open— only to let out a squeak of surprise when he saw a dumbfounded (Y/n) on the other side of the door.

Horror and embarrassment immediately consumed Sanemi at that; his wide eyes and parted lips making him look more like a fish out of water than anything else. “I- (Y/n)...”

(Y/n) couldn’t even speak. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest, while her cheeks were burning with a blush— and it wasn’t because of the minimal amount of alcohol that she had consumed earlier. Her eyes were solely on Sanemi, fixated on him as he pushed himself to get on his feet— staggering a little and having to grab on to Uzui’s head to keep himself upright.

She had just been meaning to go to the bathroom, but she had overheard the other Hashira talking about her, so she had stayed by the door and listened in— only to get caught in the end.

Silence reigned upon the room, bathing everyone in such a thick and awkward air as everyone’s eyes— save for Giyuu’s— kept darting between (Y/n) and Sanemi. Giyuu was too busy trying to keep his head up, even though his eyes were already closed; if anyone even doubted that he was drunk earlier, the sight of him with his head lolling around before jerking upright was all the proof that anyone needed.

Instead of remaining quiet, however, (Y/n) took a deep breath and tried to calm her racing heart before asking, “Did you mean it?”

Sanemi felt like he had been doused with cold water at that question, as he sobered up the tiniest bit. At least, enough for him to take his hand off of Uzui’s head so he could take a tentative step forward.

“Every word,” He breathed out, silently cursing himself for drinking so much that he could even smell the alcohol on his own breath. Still, that didn’t deter him, and he continued, “I do love you, and I don’t know what to do.”

Another bout of silence stretched between the two of them at that confession, yet Sanemi kept putting one foot in front of the other— until he was no more than a few feet away from (Y/n). He looked earnestly into her eyes, trying to gauge just how she really felt about him, but not getting anything of use since his vision was hazy with all of the alcohol swimming in his system.

“Would you know what to do if I told you that I loved you, too?” The young woman offered, feeling so bold at that moment, that she didn’t even know what had come over her to say such a thing.

But she was glad that she did, because one moment she was standing there a few feet away from the man she’d liked for so long— and the next, he was cupping her face in his hands and claiming her lips in a kiss that had her body melting against his.

#shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer scenarios #kny imagines #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #demon slayer sanemi #kny sanemi #jen writes

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glassartpeasants · 4 years ago

Text

Crying In The Club .8

Yandere!Overhaul x F!Reader

*Part 1* *Part 2* *Part 3* *Part 4* *Part 5* *Part 6* *Part 7* *Part 8*

Warnings: Yandere overhaul, angst, non-consensual touching, blood & gore, torture, death, sassy reader, some sexual references

A/N: Yeah It gets kinda gruesome in this chapter so lol. But as a warning I will put a warning *GORE* before it truly begins. I was just in the mood for some good old gore.

Taglist

@hello-lucky-luka @winchester-wifey

~~~

Another meeting, another hour of torture. You couldn’t believe it. After 6 months of being with your boyfriend, thinking all the horror was gonna end, you were dragged back into the devils lair. Not only was he actually a sociopath but this man fully believed that he could convince you to love him. As if.

How could you love someone who hurt you in horrific ways? He lowered your self esteem until it was practically nothing by the time he let you go. You had only gotten it back a little bit when (????) came into the picture. You couldn’t help but cry the night you were brought back here. How could you be happy knowing the one person you felt safe with was dead all because of some psychotic man who believed you were his.

A gloved hand on your thigh ripped you out of your thoughts. You tried not to tense up and show that the feeling was unwelcomed. Which it was. You felt his thumb rub up and down your thigh while he was talking to some random crime boss. You looked around the room uncomfortable as you were the only woman in the entire area. It felt as if all eyes were on you. They were undressing you with their eyes. You could tell by the way the two younger men that licked their lips were looking you up and down. It seems that you recognize many of these people from when you use to go to the meetings before you left.

It looked like many of the older men had learned their lesson since not one of them looked in your direction. But the younger men seemed to be new. You refused to show weakness and go crawling to Overhaul for some sort of safety. So you decided to do the next best thing. Show them that you weren’t gonna stand to be looked at like prey.

“Can you two men stop looking at me like Im a piece of meat? This is a professional meeting and you acting anything less then professional. Plus I’m taken.” You cross your arms while glaring at the two men with hatred. Everyone was silent as they all looked at you. Surprised you had said anything. You weren’t going to let some horny men look at you like that.

“You know Overhaul, you should teach her not to say anything. This is a professional meeting after all.”

“Pfft, professional meeting? Last time I was in a meeting like this, all you disgusting men couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. Shame your guys wives doesn’t know your checking out younger women.” You smirk. Idiots be wearing wedding bands on their fingers. Listen you were no mobster but its pretty common sense to not show any weakness. Especially something as crucial as a wife or husband.

No one said a word. You stood your ground, you showed you weren’t afraid of these people. But you weren’t gonna lie, You were bat shit terrified. All these men were so much bigger then you were.

‘Keep the confident front! Don’t show any fear!’

“How did you-”

“The wedding bands on your fingers.” All the men looked at their fingers realizing you had caught them. They then looked at you before they grumbled. Well everyone except the two younger men.

“Well sweets we don’t have any wedding bands. Hey Overhaul, you willing to sell that pretty thing over there?” Your eyes widen. Did these men really think you were just some toy to be pawned off? You did not miss this at all. In fact you fuckin hated this.

Before you could growl at them Kai had sen’t them a glare. He grabbed your hip and brought you in between his legs. His right arm snaking around your waist.

“No she’s not for sale. Let’s continue this meeting before I lose my temper.” Well this did not go the way you thought it would hot damn.

~~~

You sit on the couch near the back door. Watching as the older men leave with their tails in between their legs. Even if you would never admit it, Kai is much younger then most of these men. So if they were to fight him, they wouldn’t have a good chance in fighting. But the younger men, you don’t know for sure. Speaking of them you didnt see them leave the compound.

“Miss (Y/N), Overhaul had requested your presence in the basement.” Your breathing hitched as a feeling of dread washed your entire body. What did you do? You had only been back for 3 days! You couldn’t have done-

Oh yeah.

‘How could I completely forget about how I just dissed those men. Oh im so mega fucked.’ You breath lowly in fear of what would happen to you. Damnit you should have just been quiet and took it. Now you were gonna feel his wraith. Why did you do that?

You follow the man towards the basement where you heard Kai’s voice talking to someone. Was it Hari? No couldn’t be. Hari’s voice held a bit more of a sweeter tone. At least to you. This voice was similar but you couldn’t put a finger on where you heard it before. Think, think, think damnit-

The to men from the meeting.

Your eyes grow wide as you walked down the stairs and heard the door close behind you. The creaking of the wooden stairs seem to ring in your ears as your eyes slowly adjust to the darkness. Your legs jelly as you fear what you might see. What could Kai be doing to those men? Even if they were a little creepy they had probably learned their lesson when Kai had screamed at them when you were leaving the room after the meeting.

Once your feet met the concrete floor of the basement your eyes wide at the sight before you.

****GORE****

Right in front of you was the 2 men, tied in chairs, face bloody. You could have sworn some of their teeth were missing.

“Aw my lovely angel. Look, now they can never say anything to you. They don’t deserve to see your beauty. I’m proud of you for showing me which disgusting creatures were looking at you.” Kai said as he up behind you. He settled his chin on the top of your head. You see his beak coming off from the top of your head. His hands rubbing your shoulders gently, moving his thumbs in circular patterns.

“You stupid bitch! Were in here because of you-”

“(R/N) cut of their tongues. No one speaks to my angel in such a way.” You gasped as you backed up. Trying to escape the scene that was about to unfold. But you couldn’t Kai had grasped your chin and made you watch as a subordinate of his grabbed the tongue of one of the men before a sickening rip followed as the other man screamed. Blood gushed out of his mouth as the man coughed. Struggling not to choke on his own blood.

The other man suffered the same fate followed by the familiar rip. Tears were rushing down your eyes as you felt bile rise up in the back of your throat. Kai looked down at you and saw the tears and gushed out of your eyes.

“Aw angel why are you crying? Is it because you know they’ll never say such vile things to you again? Your welcome for protecting you.” Kai softly spoke as he nudged his head in between your shoulders. You felt like you were watching a horror film but in 3D.

The mens blood covered the tops of their shirts as they cough it all up. The men looked on the verge of passing out. One of them looked at you with a glare causing you to lift up your arms to cover your eyes. Your lip quivering in fear as you hear a pop and the gurgling screams of the men in front of you.

3 more pop sounds came and you were flinching every time one pop had came. You move your fingers to the side and see the men with their eyes gauged out of their sockets.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You vomited all over the ground as the men screamed even louder. You couldn’t see it. You didn’t want to see it. You were about to run out of the room before you slipped on your on vomit and hit your head against the concrete floor.

~~~

You open your eyes only to be greeted by a blinding white light. You move your arm to cover it so your eyes don’t sting. You flutter your eyes a bit before looking around your room. A pure white room that looked like a hospital room. You groaned. Was it all just a bad dream? I mean you did go to the hospital the day before you got kidnapped again.

You smile a bit, thinking it was all but just a dream. You could go back to your loving boyfriend, you could eat with him and just enjoy his presence. You missed him dearly. The thought of him got your heart pumping harder and harder. You couldn’t wait to see his cheeky smile and that cute little mole on his chin.

Just as you were about to get up from the bed and go home, your thoughts were snapped when you heard the familiar voice of your captor. That meant that this wasn’t a dream. No, this was a living nightmare. You hadn’t dreamed this, it was real. Your boyfriend was dead and you were still in the clutched of the devil himself.

You let out a little whimper when you moved your head a bit. You gently touch the side of your head wincing at the pain. The sudden thoughts of what happened earlier scratched into your head. You shiver at the thought of what else could’ve happened while you were out.

“Ah my darling angel, your finally awake. Is your head okay? Nasty gash you had. Since you fell in your own vomit I had to give you a bath. I never thought you would be even more beautiful then you already were.” Your eyes widen. He had changed you?! That means he saw everything! EVERYTHING!

Your cheeks grew red in embarrassment as you try and turn your head away. Only for Kai’s gloved hand to bring your face back to his.

“Aw my angel, don’t be embarrassed now. It’s not like I will never see you like that again. Trust me my love, one day you’ll be crying my name.”

#overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #mha #bnha #overhaul #overhaul angst #chisaki overhaul #mha overhaul #kai #shie hassaikai #kai chisaki #mha angst #bnha angst

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otonymous · 5 years ago

Text

Time After Time: Victor’s Firsts (MLQC NSFW Headcanon)

Hey everyone!

Thanks to all who voted in my Twitter poll to see whose NSFW “Firsts” headcanons they wanted to read next. 💕Victor was the undisputed victor (haha!) over Kiro, so I hope you all enjoy my longest headcanons to date...ALL 18 MINUTES OF IT! (these totally got out of hand, for whatever reason LOL) 😵😆

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.

Naughtiness ensues after the cut!

A Time To Learn: Your Relationship With Victor:

A battle of wills and wits that gradually blossoms into a relationship founded on mutual trust and admiration, learning and growth

Your relationship with Victor isn't easy, especially at the beginning when you are learning about each other and how to mesh with one another — it will be a hard-won love, but one that’s absolutely worth the payoff in the end

Victor is very logical, pragmatic, stubborn, domineering and - especially at the beginning — overprotective (tends to withhold information from you if he feels it would hurt or harm you in any way). While his intentions come from a good place, it will annoy you to no end to be sheltered like this

But as the relationship progresses and Victor comes to fully understand that you are a grown woman capable of holding her own and making her own decisions, he will gradually cease this type of behaviour

Initially, it will be hard for you to know where you stand because of Victor's reluctance to let his poker face slip and reveal his emotions. But when you finally see him crack a smile, or hear the soft chuckle of his deep laughter followed by a muted exclamation of “dummy” or “idiot,” you’ll feel like you’ve won the lottery, becoming addicted to doing whatever you can to see the corners of those lips tug up when he thinks no one is the wiser

When you first defy him, Victor is pleasantly surprised: he's used to getting his way personally and professionally because his overwhelming presence, business acumen and instinct usually lead him in the right directions, so he has rarely ever encountered opposition. While he is initially taken aback by your bravado, he’ll find your attitude refreshing, amusing even. His cock will too (more on this later) 😆

This is the type of relationship where one person fills in the gaps of the other: you'll soften Victor’s hard edges, temper the manner with which he interacts with others, and make him laugh harder than he ever thought possible. You are the figurative sunshine in his life, the warmth he has been missing for so long.

On the other hand, Victor lends you his unflappable confidence, his expertise and experience, the will to stick to your guns and really fight for the things you want. He is your safe haven, champion and protector.

Talk is cheap for Victor, who prefers to show love and affection by way of action: brewing medicinal soups when you’re sick (with a spoonful of caramel pudding at the ready to chase away the bitter aftertaste), tucking a cozy throw over you when you’ve fallen asleep on the sofa yet again, cooking your favourite foods when he knows you’ve had a rough day, waiting outside your office in the pouring rain to drive you home when he knows you’ve forgotten your umbrella

He also loves to high-key spoil you: whisk you away on his private jet for spontaneous weekend getaways at Lake Como or Bali, beautiful bouquets arranged on your desk Monday mornings at the office just because, an impromptu Champs-Élysées shopping excursion when you mention needing a new winter coat…THAT BLACK CARD THOOOO

Victor is a steadfast lover: reliable, responsible and always, always there when you need him. He is your rock, a solid foundation from which you are emboldened to jump and reach for the stars…forever knowing he will be there to catch you if you fall

He often anticipates your needs, sometimes even before you realize them. And as your relationship progresses, the ways in which he offers help will become less overbearing and more sensitive to your feelings and your right to make an informed decision

Victor is most expressive in the bedroom. For all his emotional reservedness in his everyday life, the passionate nature he keeps buried deep inside is finally given an outlet through sensual pleasures

As with everything else in his life, lovemaking is serious business for Victor. He is an intense lover who wants to be the very best, the one to erase even the tiniest shreds of whoever came before him. He needs to leave his mark on you, physically and emotionally. Even if he wasn’t your first, he’d be damned if he’s not your last.

Ever the epicurean, Victor is the pussy-eating champion. Thoroughly devoted to exploring you orally, the man would go for hours if you’d let him, taking care not to miss a single inch of trembling flesh. Obsessed with numbers, Victor is not satisfied to move on to something else until he’s given you multiple orgasms with his tongue alone.

The man is humming(!) in pleasure as he eats: lips, chin and cheeks shiny with your arousal and his spit. This will be the only time you see Victor with less than impeccable table manners

Victor considers it a point of pride and responsibility to bring you to your climax well before he reaches his own

The man also loves to see you in elegant silks, satins and lace and will surprise you with the most beautiful lingerie

In all honesty though, garter belts, stockings, stilettos and nothing else are this man's jam when he really gets down to business

Needless to say, Victor’s super fit and muscular physique translates to stamina for days...

The First Kiss:

Having spent an exhausting day ironing out the minute details of your proposal with Victor, you slump onto the leather sofa in the corner of his office, meaning to take a 5 minute power nap to recharge while Victor leaves the room for a bathroom break

“The man is a machine…” you think to yourself, stealing a quick glance at your phone before the weight of heavy eyelids finally shepherds you to slumber: 9:15 pm

You are out cold. Dead to the world. You don't even hear the click of the door as it opens, or the soft approach of polished Oxfords when Victor quietly crouches to bring his face level with yours, gazing at your sleeping form, undisguised tenderness completely transforming that stoic visage

Victor is smiling, one large hand curling into a loose fist before it rises to cover his mouth — the side of his index smoothing over his cupid’s bow in an unconscious bid to satisfy the desire for physical contact

Jet black eyes sweep from disheveled hair to the delicate silver chain around your neck, pupils widening as they trace the line of your collarbone upon which the sapphire pendant lay

Then…slowly….as if caught in the pull of some hypnotic tide, Victor moves even closer, Adam’s apple prominent in his throat as he swallows. Paying no heed to the heat gathering beneath an increasingly tight collar, the man continues studying your face, intent on mapping every smooth contour onto his mind for posterity

It is only when he feels the warmth of your breath on his cheek that he stops, breaking out of his trance and mentally chastising himself for almost losing control. For losing himself in the sight of your soft lips parted in slumber

Just when he makes to stand and cover you with his suit jacket, your eyes fly open to lock onto his

Time stops. Lost in the intensity of the gaze, neither of you dare to even breathe, let alone speak, lest the sanctity of the moment is broken

The sheer proximity of Victor Li has you captivated: cedar wood and pine wafting subtle from burning skin, long lashes softening dark eyes that blazed with hunger, lips that trembled ever so slightly with longing until you couldn’t help but become famished for just one taste…

And before you can even make sense of what you’re doing, you've propped yourself up on one elbow, bridging the gap between your lips and his — plush, soft and slightly parted

Victor’s eyes widen for a moment, a thousand different emotions silently brewing inside that busy mind until the slide of your tongue into his mouth blankets the chaos with a quiet calm. Only then does the LFG CEO yield completely to the warmth of your lips and the fire in his soul, eyes closed as he finally allows his body to take what it wants, what it has yearned for since the day you challenged him

And when he gets to this point, Victor's kiss deepens, becoming more and more aggressive until you’re forced to pull back for a bit of air before diving in for a second round

Confession Of Love:

This man is not the type to throw the word “love” around lightly, so when he tells you he loves you, he MEANS IT. It’s not lust. It’s not like. It’s a Ride or Die type of commitment.

Victor Li leaves very little to chance. The first time he tells you he loves you, he will have planned it…WAY in advance

The man knows timing is everything (haha!) and will choose the very special occasion of your birthday to make his confession

He rearranges his work schedule (and yours) for the special day, flying you out to Paris on his private jet

At exactly 1:14 pm, he’ll present you with your gift at the very top of the Eiffel Towel: a ladies’ version of the Patek Philippe timepiece he himself wears

The back will be engraved with both your initials and the numbers 1-3-1-4. You'll start shaking the moment you see it.

1:14 pm, 13:14, 1-3-1-4: all essentially meaning "forever" when pronounced in Chinese

Honestly, it will feel like a proposal and in a sense, it is: once Victor is absolutely certain about someone, he will never let them go. His love is for life.

You are absolutely speechless, hands trembling so hard that Victor has to hold them steady before he slips the watch onto your wrist

Then, after taking a moment to savour the sweetness of having a shared token of love, Victor bends to place a kiss on the back of your hand, the most tender look in his eyes when he finally looks up to say, “I love you. Happy birthday.”

Doesn’t that sound much nicer than "dummy"?! 😆

The First Night

Despite all the impossible deadlines Victor sets for you in the course of your professional collaborations, the man is incredibly patient when it comes to matters of the heart

Until Victor tells you he loves you, he will not have sex with you (much to your horny chagrin)

This is actually specific to you and not his personal code of conduct per se. In the past, the man has had no problems bedding women he’s had, at most, lukewarm feelings for

But YOU are a totally different breed, worlds apart from the starlets and socialites that threw themselves at his feet

Victor is fascinated by your honesty: the frankness of your words, your artless behaviour. Mesmerized by the fact that he can read you like an open book (which is why he is so keen on protecting you from those who would use that to their advantage). Touched by the genuine kindness and consideration that guides much of what you do. Impressed by your tireless spirit in fighting for the people and things you care about

In short, he has never met another person quite like you, especially in the cut-throat world of business and high society where he has learned to excel — a place where poker-faced people keeping their cards close to their chests are the norm and not the exception

Holding out on sex is as painful and torturous to Victor as it likely is to you; the man is incredibly attracted to you, and has been since the day you dared to challenge him to secure funding for your company. Deep down, Victor knows you had him ensnared the moment he saw the fire burning in your eyes (not like he’d ever tell you though LOL)

And each time work brought you before him, the man couldn’t help but notice something new to admire: the way your hair fell in soft wisps — begging to be gently tucked behind the shell of your ear, the captivating flutter of lashes as tired eyes blinked back fatigue, the pleasing lilt of your voice even as you laced your words with sarcasm

It wasn’t long before Victor found his thoughts drifting to you, haunting his nights and sneaking up on him during the day…especially when he was in the shower, eyes closed and moans amplified in the wet heat as his large hand reached down to stroke the length of his cock — imagining your legs wrapped around his waist, your tongue nimble on his shaft

In spite of all this pent-up tension, Victor doesn't rush into sex because he wants things to be done right. You are the most important person in his life and he feels the need to eliminate any possibility of things going wrong

In short, he won’t treat you like the women who came before because there’s absolutely no comparison: no one has ever made him feel the way you do

That being said, it doesn’t mean you and Victor won't get up to some extreme heavy-petting: grinding on his lap in his Bugatti, palming him through his dress pants at the office, a hand slipped beneath your skirt when you’re bent over wiping kitchen counters at Souvenir as payment for your meal

So when Victor gives you the ultimate birthday gift of finally telling you he loves you, the two of you are hightailing it back to your penthouse suite at the grandest hotel in Paris, bodies already flush against each other and kissing as the French do in the privacy of an ascending elevator

BUT Victor is the king of deliciously unhurried love making. It is his preferred modus operandi. After all, the man really knows how to enjoy the finer things in life: food, wine, your body and every single reaction of bliss that can be teased out of it.

You can bet that Victor will fuck you nice and slow and thoroughly.

PREPARE TO BE PAMPERED LIKE A QUEEN

Strains of Duke Ellington & John Coltrane's “In a Sentimental Mood” are being piped through built-in speakers as Victor approaches you from behind, notes of pine and cedar accompanying the heat of his body, wafting in gentle waves to make the fine hairs of your skin stand on anticipatory end

And as you watch the sun kiss the horizon through a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows — orange rays setting the Eiffel Tower ablaze in a sea of luminous fire — fingertips are trailing up your bare arms, Victor gently gathering your hair to sweep it over one shoulder before pressing his lips to the nape of your neck, eyes closed and inhaling deep, trying to hold on to the subtle sweetness of your skin

His hands, incredibly dextrous despite their size, easily tease apart the knot of your halter dress and you tremble under the intensity of his gaze over your shoulder as they watch satin trace every curve — your dress dropping to pool on cool marble at your feet

There is something especially exquisite about seeing the City of Light laid out before you as you’re slowly laid bare by Victor. And just when you start to blush at standing stark naked before the fully clothed CEO, he places your hands on his chest, seductive command permeating that deep voice when he says, “Undress me.”

Sliding your palms over the broad expanse of his pecs, you palpate the rhythm of his heart, caress the lines of hard muscle beneath that perfectly starched dress shirt

By the time your fingers are unbuttoning his collar, his Adam's apple is already bobbing in his throat, the deep breaths he’s drawing to rein in desire amplifying the rise and fall of his chest

When the last button is undone, the sight of Victor’s gloriously perfect torso erodes the last of your frayed patience and you’re practically tearing the shirt off his muscular arms, wrestling with his belt. And although you are dying inside from your lack of finesse, Victor is secretly thrilled that you want him that badly. Full marks 😆

Finally….finally….that beautiful body is revealed in all its glory: sculpted from innumerable laps in his olympic sized pool and so genetically blessed below the belt that your mouth is watering at the sight

BUT FIRST, a bath! Blue balls be damned, Victor Li will enjoy this moment to its fullest. He knows that a slow seduction can build up to the most explosive sex. Clearly.

The man will absolutely insist on bathing you, don't even try to fight it. He gets an acute sense of satisfaction from taking care of you in every sense of the word. Also, there’s nothing quite like the slippery slide of his hands all over your body

Step into the marble infinity tub and lay back against his broad chest. Soak in the warm waters as you take in the view of the city around you, the peony-scented candles, the white-petaled orchids…all meticulously planned by the man soaping you from behind, gentle hands exploring

Lose yourself in his touch: fingertips trailing after bubbles that glide over the swell of your breasts, large hands submerging to wrap around your waist until they cross at the navel, moving down to rub languid circles between your legs until you tremble — Victor’s lips finding yours when your head falls back against his shoulder in bliss

And when you reach behind to feel him - long, hot and hard - his soft groans will drive you to the precipice of madness until you’ve got him sitting on the edge of the tub: face a mask of ecstasy to feel your lips on him, your greedy mouth never seeming to get enough of his delicious flesh

Best believe that Victor almost has a heart attack when you let him slip from your mouth when he begins to twitch, observing him with innocence in your eyes as you pump him to completion, teasing the tip of his cock with your hardened nipples while he coats your chest in his release

The man is DONE when you finally look down at your breasts as if surprised, gathering up his cum with the tip of your index and bringing it to your lips for a taste, coy smile blooming all the while on your face

Jaw tightens. Cock hardens. And suddenly the world around you slows to a stand-still as you’re lifted so quickly you barely have time to think before his hands are coaxing your legs around his trim waist, your body wet and slippery against Victor’s as he carries you to the bedroom

Laying you upon the king-sized bed, Victor’s lips seek the heat between your thighs — lapping fast, tasting slow, drawing out slick pleasure to coat his tongue and wrench his name from somewhere deep in your throat

Nothing gets Victor Li hotter, faster, than the sound of your voice, desperate and needy for him. The man is addicted to it. You can bet he won’t be emerging from between your legs until his cheeks and chin are so shiny it’s obscene, and you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve convulsed against his fingers and tongue, orgasms bleeding one into the other like sweetly turbulent waves

And when he finally rises — your flavour faint on his tongue as his lips find yours — he’ll swallow your moans as he finally pushes into you: gradual, gentle, savouring every searing twitch of muscle adjusting to the welcome intrusion of his long, thick heat

Hips moving fast, swaying slow…pelvis grinding in circles to hit your clit because he can’t get enough of the way you shudder against him, or the sting of your teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulders (mark him up, Victor LOVES it)

EDGING: Victor will hit that spot with expert precision over and over again till you’re on the verge of exploding…only to pull away, rhythm slowing to a grind to leave you hyperventilating and dizzy with need as this torturous pattern repeats

When he finally lets you (and himself) come, you are a sweaty, screaming mess, nails scratching to leave crimson welts on Victor’s back that will make the man smile to see in the mirror the following morning

Victor likes to remain buried deep within you for a bit after his release, holding you in his arms as he peppers you with kisses: on your lips, cheeks, forehead and eyelids

Afterwards, you can bet that the CEO will have a full spread delivered to the suite, where the two of you will spend the rest of the evening feeding each other in bed in between rounds of passionate lovemaking. Remember? Victor has stamina for DAAAAAYYYYYSSS and has to make up for lost time 😂

⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱⏱

Thanks so much for reading! Check out more of my work here! 📚

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc smut headcanon #mlqc headcanon #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc firsts #mlqc victor smut #love and producer smut #mlqc victor firsts #my writing #q&a #anonymous #all request line

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stariwrites · 4 years ago

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I was wondering if you're still doing asks could I maybe get an AoT one?? If you're not busy! 👉👈 I've read some of your asks and they're just beautiful!

So I'm like a loud introvert. Basically I come from a loud family with some HoH members which basically means I'm really bad at fixing the volume of my.voice because I don't hear the difference. It's a whole thing. But I am also nervous shy bean, please don't look at me I know I just laughed really loudly it's not my fault lol. It has helped me to appreciate the quiet and respect other's need for it

But once you get to know me I'd like to say I'm kind and perceptive. My love language is acts of service and just....being there and getting them what they need. It's a great feeling to help the people I love. I will admit I swear like a sailor but I'm also Irish and that's just how we talk? But I know it's not the same everywhere some countries take cussing really seriously whereas to me the f word is a describing word. But I'm really good at working with people and crowds and I've spent years studying politics and geography and working on using my loud ass self for good.

I love traveling and seeing things and sharing them with the people closest too me. Art, food, music and knowledge of there's an adventure to be had I'm on it and ready to go.... As long as we plan everything to a tee. None of that "oh we'll wing it" I will toss you out of the car if you come at me with that. It always ends in disaster.

I am of average height maybe a little short, chubby but funky and I have a soft baby face and bit eyes. My eyes are my favourite part of myself. As my cheeks give my an eye smile that my friends say make me look real soft and approachable. I sneeze like Panpan from we bare bears and I wish it was just something I put on because my friends keel over every time and it's not on purpose I just sound like that!

I love books, the smell of winter mornings, tea, coffee, dogs and the feeling of sunshine on my skin. I'm the mom friend despite being a shy bean and hope to comfort people with my presence even if I can be a bit intense and bad tempered at times.

I hope that's enough. It's so weird writing about yourself lol. I genuinely can't wait to see what you think! Bye!

Hi love! There’s more under the cut, I figured I would make this a read more because of that.

I would pair you with Connie Springer!

Connie is a loud extrovert so if you ever laugh too hard and people start to stare he will do anything in his power to make people focus on him instead of you. Whether that be laughing loudly too or raising his voice. He doesn’t mind if you talk loud either. He’s also fine with the quiet but will probably fill in the silence.

Connie is also perceptive. His love language is quality time as well as words of affirmation. If he notices you’re down he’ll try to make you laugh or be there for you when you need it. He’ll shower you in compliments too. He adores your kindness and because of that he finds you to be a wonderful person to hang out around. He loves the good vibes you give off. If he was ever down and you did something for him, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. He’d be all flustered but would smile. Connie would find you swearing like a sailor fascinating and he would probably get used to it while everybody else is still a little taken aback. He’s astounded at how well you deal with people and he’ll tell you as much. He talks about you to his friends a lot and brags about how cool you are, especially to Jean.

He would love hearing stories about your travels and would love to go with you. At first he might not be so on board with planning but once you two start to do it, he loves it. He’ll show you a place you can visit all excited and he actually finds it fun to plan things with you.

He loves everything about you and will call you adorable even if you deny it. The pentanes he gives you are sunshine, babe, baby, dear and sunflower. Your eyes were what drew him to you in the first place, that and the fact that you were super approachable and he felt comfortable around you. He loves your sneeze and will laugh every time you do. He would make it his ring tone.

Connie is in awe of you and just how compassionate you are. He watches you take care of your friends and vows that he’ll be the one to take care of you. He loves dogs too and would ask if the two of you could get one. He finds your presence comforting and wants to provide the same feeling for you.

You didn’t put any songs down so I just did songs that I thought would fit the vibe of your relationship, if you want me to change anything lmk! You can find the playlist here.

1. What’s It Gonna Be? by Shura

2. Tongue Tied by Grouplove

3. Rebel Beat by The Goo Goo Dolls

4. Tightrope by Walk the Moon

5. Out of My League by Fitz and The Tantrums

Mini blurb:

Connie always thought you were beautiful from your soft baby face to your eyes so filled with wonder. He thought you were beautiful in the little things you did too, like how you would take care of the people closest to you. Your laugh caused butterflies to soar in his stomach. He’d find himself laughing beside you without a care in the world. He found you beautiful in the way you sneezed and how cute it was, he found you beautiful when you would leave him meals if you realized that he forgot to eat. He found you beautiful when you were planning for a trip and even if you were angry he still found you beautiful. But now, watching you stand in the Sun with that carefree smile on your face he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

“I love you,” the words were sudden causing you to stare at him with wide eyes. It was the first time he said it, but you could tell he was serious. You’d never seen him like that before, he was so certain. In a life full of uncertainty he realized the one thing he was certain about.

“I love you,” he said, louder than before. You walked forward until the two of you were face to face and intertwined your hands.

“I love you too.”

#stariwrites #starianswers #alreadylostinterest #aot x reader #aot imagines #connie springer x reader #connie springer imagines #connie springer x you #snk x reader #snk imagines #match ups

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imagine-darksiders · 5 years ago

Text

Haven

Chapter 5 - Not so different.

Summary: Ulthane suddenly finds himself in the desperate position of protecting six humans from twisted reflections of their own species. The situation is dire and growing more desperate by the second. But after failing to save so many in the past, the maker is determined not to fail in keeping his new charges from harm.

Warnings: Children in peril, blood, undead, gore, fighting, whump.

Hey guys, again, to make up for my lack of content, I’ve done you this massive chapter for Haven lol. Hope this distracts you for a bit xx

Words: 11687

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Death, in your humble opinion, has an ugliness about it, a kind that you'd have been very happy to take no notice of for the rest of your life.

But the corpses shuffling across the museum towards you serve as a stark and jarring reminder of humanity's inescapable fate, of what awaits you all beyond the grave.

'Is this it?' you find yourself wondering, aghast.

The creatures advance, dead lips pulled back over gnashing teeth, their equally lifeless eyes filled with such hatred, they could only have belonged to something that used to be human.

Death was supposed to be a graceful, natural thing. Now, you fear you'll never go back to seeing it as such, not after tonight. Tomorrow you will wake up, sadder, but wiser, and the cold and quiet comfort of the grave will no longer hold it's solemn appeal.

There are seven of them now, pressing in unrelentingly like a pack of wild dogs, jaws dripping wet and their movements slow and calculating, searching for a weakness in their prey's defence. With the children huddled out of sight behind a reception desk, that weakness is – inevitably – you.

Fortunate then, that standing between you and the salivating undead, is a maker.

Swaying like an oversized pendulum, Ulthane shifts his weight, side to side, side to side, and yet, he never puts a foot forward. To do so would leave you and the kids open and vulnerable to an attack. You don't know the maker especially well, but you can tell he's raring to charge into the fray and meet the former-humans head on.

It suddenly hits you that he's putting aside centuries of habit just to protect you.

Your gut twists uncomfortably and you swallow down a lump of guilt, recalling how mistrustful you've been of him thus far.

The feeling doesn't have too long to settle in however, for a split second later, one of the grotesque creatures drops its jaw and lets out a sharp bark, leaping from the ground and sailing straight at Ulthane.

“LOOK OUT!” you scream, although you soon find your belated warning to be unnecessary.

With startling speed, the maker swings his hammer through the air...

'SPLAT!'

The sound of impact is so, utterly gruesome that your hands are halfway to your ears in the vain hopes of blocking it out before you realise there's little point. Steel meets flesh in an ungodly connection that sends the undead hurtling sideways, bones snapping and decaying organs flattened under the force of Ulthane's swing.

It lands with a sickening thump somewhere off in one of the museum's darker corners, dead once again, for what you sincerely hope is the last time, though it wouldn't surprise you if these creatures are more resilient than they seem.

Huffing, Ulthane pulls his hammer back into its prior position and braces.

As if the death of their pack member had been just the nudge they needed to tip them over the edge of caution, the remaining six undead suddenly surge forth in a tidal wave of rotting flesh and flying spittle, their mouths twisted open, belting out hollow screams to let you know of their outrage.

They're fast. By god, they're fast.

But Ulthane is ready.

The first to reach him is splattered on the ground beneath the head of his formidable hammer, and the ensuing reverberations nearly topple you off your feet. One of your hands flies out to grab the desk behind you and you risk a glance over the top of it, spying the children's haunted faces staring back up at you, their fingers clutching at one another's coats and jackets, drawing comfort from whatever meagre form of touch they can find.

Jesus, you hope they can't see what's happening on your side of the desk.

A guttural snarl has you flinging yourself around to face the battle again and you blanch, eyes widening to find that one of the remaining beasts has managed to jump up and latch itself to the maker's arm whilst he's distracted with fending off the two that are trying to strafe around his other side, their swollen eyes fixed on you. With a snarl, he aims a kick at the assailants on the ground and gives his arm a vigorous shake in an attempt to dislodge the one sinking its teeth into his toughened flesh.

The others skitter backwards and out of range, apparently having just enough sense of self-preservation left in their heads to recognise their dwindling chances of taking down a full-grown maker. However, the undead with its teeth in his arm won't be so easily deterred. There's an awful moment where it seems to bite down even harder, then flings its head violently back and you can actually hear the squeak and tear of skin being ripped right off the muscle.

Ulthane screws his eyes shut and hisses through his teeth. He may be resilient but even the bellicose warrior can't ignore the white-hot spike of pain that shoots up his arm.

“Ulthane!”

Suddenly, the maker's eyes fly open and an ear twitches in response to your fretful cry and for just a second, his gaze flicks down towards you, seeing the open concern radiating off your face.

It's in that worry, he finds resolve.

Eyes hardening, the muscles in his jaw tighten and he emits a growl through clenched teeth before dropping his hammer on the ground and reaching up to grab the undead's skull, enclosing it in one, colossal fist.

You watch on, half enthralled, half horror-struck as the maker gives his hand a single, effortless flex. There's a muffled 'crack!' and just like that, the undead's legs stop flailing madly in the air and its nails cease their scrabbling against Ulthane's fingers.

It's only after he lets the body fall from his grasp that he realises you were watching when he crushed its skull. The pounding in his ears grows to a painful crescendo. He's suddenly reminded of the girl he'd failed to save, the girl who'd witnessed him violently unleash his temper on an already dead demon.

She'd been so frightened....

....of him.

Ulthane whips his head down to you and his heart stills in his chest. He's searching for that same fear in your face, expects it, even.

What he doesn't expect though, when he catches and holds your watery gaze, is to be asked, “Are you alright!?”

The question goes unanswered.

A dreadful chill slugs you in the gut upon seeing Ulthane's eyes flick up and widen as his mouth falls open, perhaps to shout a warning that will undoubtedly arrive too late. He'd been so focused on you, on the gentle easing of your brow after you realised he'd regained the upper hand, that the maker hadn't even noticed one undead creeping over the lip of the desk behind you, it's blank, lidless eyes trained on the children sheltering inside.

You whirl about in time to see what has the maker so rattled and let out a choked gasp at the sight before you.

“Oh christ...Oh my god!” you breathe as the creature's face lifts into view, recognisable even behind its accelerated state of decay, “That....That's Davies!”

The urge to vomit hits you out of nowhere but you stubbornly choke it back down.

Your former colleague is bent before you over the desk, eyes the colour of sour milk and she's still wearing that awful, pink, torsade necklace you hate so much. It's the only reason you really accept that it's her. Mousy brown hair that had once been pulled into a tight bun is now hanging loose, wispy and grey with only a few, withered clumps having managed to cling valiantly to her skull. The square-rimmed glasses she'd worn not four days ago dangle from their chain and bump against her skeletal chest as she crawls forwards, pulling herself across the desk with long, spindly fingers.

Something wet and cold trickles down your cheek and you open your mouth to taste the salt of a tear as it drips from your upper lip and lands on your tongue. Davies was a harsh woman, calculating and callous. But she didn't deserve this!

Nobody deserves this.

Ulthane, in the meantime, doesn't know who this 'Davies' is, nor does he particularly care. Whoever they used to be, they assuredly aren't that human anymore.

Your ex colleague drops down inside the ring, pushing a growl from her chest whilst the kids, literally petrified to the spot, can do nothing but whimper and cling to each other even more tightly and it's their fretful sobs that rip you from your moment of shocked grieving.

You and Ulthane move at exactly the same time.

He bellows out something incomprehensible but completely unmistakable in its intent and hurls himself at the desk, throwing his upper half over the top of it and slamming a massive arm down between the children and their decaying teacher. Beside him, with a strength conjured from the wildest parts of your biology, you brace your hands on the desk and vault over it in a single bound, and as you slide across it and down onto the floor on the other side, your hand curls around the first thing it comes into contact with – a nondescript, orange mug, still with the tea sloshing around inside.

Behind you, Ulthane's arm is huddling the reluctant children further underneath his chest while a wrathfulness consumes you like the flames of a raging fire, licking down your throat and coiling in your belly as the monstrous Davies in front of you takes an audacious step closer to the kids.

Perhaps if you'd have paused to consider the many, many ways your next move could go wrong, you wouldn't have charged so recklessly towards such a perilous foe and those precious, few seconds you might have saved would've given the undead enough time to defend herself.

To leap before one looks is a seldom-recommended course of action. However, there are moments – rarer than hen's teeth, mind – where leaping first pays off.

A satisfying 'smash' echoes through the museum after you swing the mug and it shatters against that mindless skull with such vigour, the undead crumples immediately to the ground and lets out a garbled moan, dazed and vulnerable on its back, but not dead.

Not yet.

Not until you throw yourself on top of her and grab a large, jagged fragment of ceramic from the pieces that now lay scattered on the floor, grasp it in two hands, lift it high over your head and then plunge it viciously between the undead's rolling eyes.

The sharpened edges cut into your palms from the pressure of forcing your makeshift weapon through bone and muscle but you manage to hold back a cry of pain, opting instead to wince, flecks of spittle flying off your tongue as you pant raggedly, waiting for the corpse pinned beneath you to finally stop twitching and lay still.

The kids – well hidden behind Ulthane's brawny arm – can't see what has just transpired. But the maker can.

He's aware of a commotion behind him when two sets of claws start tearing at his leg, though the thick material of his trousers is sturdy enough to withstand a few more seconds of punishment, more than enough time for him to raise his brows, impressed at your unexpected grit. The sweat gathered on your forehead glistens like dew under a moonbeam. With your lips pulled back over your teeth like that and the suffering's blood spattered in a graceful arc across your clavicle, a word comes to Ulthane's mind, a word that arrives as jarringly as the insistent and sudden 'thwump' of his heart.

'Beautiful,' he thinks, though he's quick to shake that thought away the moment it materialises. To distract himself, Ulthane gives a grunt and pushes himself upright once more, mindful of the tiny humans crowded near his hands.

Suddenly, he kicks back with a leg, sending the two, ravenous undead sprawling away from him across the marble floor, each letting out identical moans of frustration. They aren't put off for long, however, and as Ulthane hoists himself around to face them and smoothly retrieves his hammer from the ground, they drop down onto all fours and gallop towards him, relying on agility to be their last, remaining ally in this fight.

They aren't the first to underestimate a maker's speed, and they surely won't be the last.

Riding on the near-constant surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, Ulthane clenches his fists tightly around the hammer and heaves it out in front of him in a wide, sweeping arc.

His lips curl up into a twisted grin when the weapon's face connects with the first creature, only to immediately slam into its partner less than a second later with enough force to launch them straight across the museum where they join their fallen brethren, all seven of whom now lay scattered upon the marble floor, crushed and mangled beyond recognition.

“N' this time, stay dead,” Ulthane spits.

Rolling a kink out of one shoulder, the maker slings his hammer into place on his back and turns about.

“Y'alright wee ones?” he calls out softly, leaning over the desks and peering in.

The children all crane their necks back to see the underside of his looming face, their own damp with tears, tears that are still rolling in never-ending torrents down their cheeks alongside several sets of sniffles. Battle-hardened as tempered steel he may be, but the sight undoubtedly presses at something in the maker's chest. As much as seeing young humans cry might distress him, Ulthane finds that he can at least take some, small speck of relief from the fact that, so far as he can tell, they don't appear to be injured.

You on the other hand....

The maker's nostrils twitch, smelling blood that isn't his own on the air.

Troubled, he tears his gaze from the children and fixes it upon their matriarch instead.

You haven't moved. The eyes of the dead woman below you stare blankly up towards the ceiling, her jaw stretched open in an eternal scream, that primal outrage forever etched onto the fabric of history. 'Fitting, for a museum,' you muse.

There's fresh blood trickling lazily into her open eyes and you find yourself watching, morbidly fascinated that they don't twitch or try to blink the liquid out. It takes another second before you realise that the blood is coming out of you, and not her. Trembling hands slowly pry themselves off the large, ceramic shard they'd only recently used to skewer the head of your former colleague, right in front of her students. You'd gripped the shard so tightly, it had cut into your palms and you curse your prior hastiness. Extracting your hands is almost a more painful procedure.

“Lass?”

Gentle, yet somehow maintaining an insurmountable strength in that low rumble, Ulthane calls your name and begins to reach down, over the desk, over the children, until his fingertips brush against your back, following the bumps of your spine.

You're worryingly slow to turn and look up at him, casting the maker a hollow gaze, eyelids drooping, lips slightly parted to allow room for slow and shuddering breaths – he surmises you're teetering on the precipice of total collapse.

Ulthane blinks away from the empty stare you're giving him to the decaying body that lays motionless beneath you. “Did, er... You did well there, lass,” he nods, his mouth a grim line, “S'not easy fer a human to kill a-”

“To kill what? Another human?!” You're on your feet so abruptly, the children all gasp and flinch at the swift motion but you're too busy shoving yourself out from underneath Ulthane's hand to notice. Gone is the fatigue shadowing your eyes. It bleeds away to make room for something else.

The giant's bushy eyebrows twitch inwards a fraction as he retracts his arm and lays it on top of the desk, letting out a sigh that sounds more like a growl. “I told you, girlie, they're not human anymore.”

“Well they sure!-” Without meaning to, you've raised your voice loud enough that even you grimace at the echo chasing after it. Preferring to avoid bringing any more creatures scurrying out of the woodwork, you click your tongue and rein yourself back in, bitterly ending with a curt, “-They sure used to be. Not that long ago, in fact.”

Remaining silent, the maker watches your eyes travel down to the undead once more.

“Friend of yours?” he asks carefully, not missing the way your breath suddenly stops coming and your chest stills as a result.

After a few too many moments where he begins to regret even asking, you completely deflate, all the frustration rushing out of you like a hiss of hot steam as you falteringly reply, “She....we were...more like colleagues. We worked together-” Here, you gesture a floppy hand at the huddling children. “-At their school.”

After a moment of thought, you promptly grab a coat hanging from the back of a nearby chair and drop it hurriedly over the body. It isn't much, you know, but at least the kids don't have to look at it anymore.

Trying not to scare the young ones shuffling nervously underneath him, Ulthane slowly raises an arm and rubs at the back of his neck, focusing intently on the blood that dribbles from between your twitching fingers.

“M'sorry,” he mumbles, “I know how hard it is to do...that.”

To his surprise, you reply with an incautious scoff, emotionless eyes staring off into the darkness. He's privately grateful for that. It means you don't see his ears droop noticeably when you murmur, “How could you possibly know?”

Ulthane's mouth falls open, a response making its way along his tongue only to come up short at the very tip and he considers, for a moment, whether it would be wise to tell you of Corruption, of the dark plague that – even now – is spreading through his homeland with no signs of stopping or being stopped, turning any makers who fought back into mindless shells of their former selves. And how then, would you react to learning that the only way to spare them from Corruption's grasp was to kill them?

Destroy the host, and you destroy the parasite.

It was such a simple prospect in theory. But the practice of it... Eideard had tried to call it 'purifying,' perhaps in a bid to make the survivors in Tri Stone feel a little better about slaying the shadows of their old friends.

There was nothing 'pure' about what happened to those makers.

And after hearing the woeful despondency in your voice and seeing your eyes grow dull and defeated, Ulthane would not try to tell you – as Eideard had once told him – that you'd done what was necessary. That it was kinder to kill, in the end, than to let the poor bastards suffer.

It was the same thing he'd tried to tell himself, after every single, devastating blow of his hammer. It never, ever got easier.

'How could he possibly know?'

How could he possibly not?

A soft hiccough interrupts Ulthane's musings and he gives his head a decisive shake to dislodge the unpleasant memories. He glances down and immediately feels his tempered heart squeeze at the sight of five younglings watching him uneasily, each of them trying to shrink in on themselves as though they could disappear from his view if only they were a little smaller.

The maker considers them a moment longer, then presses his lips together. He's not about to burden you - or the younglings – with his own tragedies, not now.

Besides, he's wasted far too much time here. The precious fluid that drives your body is slowly seeping out of the wounds on your palms, and although he himself is suffering an injury, he knows for a fact that blood is much less essential to a maker than it is to a human.

There's a decisive air to the way Ulthane stands up and puts his hands on his hips, and the suddenness of his movement seems to draw you out of the somber chasm you've fallen into. As soon as he moves, you let out a throaty groan and press your fingertips to your eyelids, trying to squeeze the tiredness out of them.

“Hey. Listen. I'm sorry, man.” You shake your head, dropping your hands and looking up at Ulthane. “I shouldn't have snapped at you, I should be thanking you.”

He would deny it later, but the maker nearly buckles under the relief that hits him when he hears your apology. Not because he thinks for a second that he deserves it, but because it means you aren't angry with him, not really, though that thought in itself strikes him as odd and he frowns gently, surprised at himself for caring so much about what you think of him. Before he can say a word in reply however, your attention is suddenly on his arm and you let out a sharp gasp, rushing forwards to the side of the desk and standing on your tiptoes, your eyes fixed on the gaping bite.

“Oh, holy shi-! Uh, moly!” you manage to catch yourself before an expletive slips out in front of the children, “Are you okay!? I – I mean, it doesn't look okay, it looks like agony!” A little bewildered by the sudden level of alarm pointed his way, Ulthane sputters out a nonsensical reply before he collects himself and blows a laid-back puff of air past his lips.

“What? Oh, this?” He gestures to his arm and sniffs, the very picture of nonchalance. “Ach, nothin' to get yer knickers in a twist over, I've had worse scrapes than this, don't you worry.”

One of the children – you think it's Kitty – sniffles and lets out a bubbling giggle that sounds more nervous than amused but you cling to it, shooting Ulthane a secretive wink and pretending to wag a disapproving finger up at him. “My knickers are none of your concern,” you scold, earning another stifled snicker much to your delight and apparently the maker's as well, if the dashing smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

It feels odd, yet not in any way that's unpleasant, to be sharing this little moment of triumph together, even if it's only small. Your smile lingers for a few more seconds before it wavers and falls, leaving you to sigh through your nose, eyebrows pressing together until a firm line appears between them. “Jokes aside,” you ask quietly, “are you sure you're all right? That's quite the wound....”

Had he been among his own people, Ulthane would have been proud to show off his new battle scar, might have even lauded it over his brother's head for a few days. In maker culture, wounds and scars are a testament to one's prowess in battle. They signify resilience, strength and are a mark of accomplishment for most warriors, showing that a battle had been fought and won. The more scars a maker had, the more life-threatening situations they'd survived and overcome.

But here, standing before you, something is different. For reasons beyond his own understanding, the way you're staring at his ravaged skin with pinched brows and a gentle frown makes him suddenly self conscious of the injury and he lifts his opposite hand to cover it, hastily jutting his chin down at your palms. “S'no worse than yours, lass,” he says, “Elanya's not gonna be happy to see what you've done to yourself.” The maker neglects to mention that he's also far from pleased about the blood drying on your fingers.

You raise a brow at him, unimpressed with how he'd so clearly deflected the attention off himself, but the weariness in your bones and your reluctance to even acknowledge the stinging pain in your hands is enough to keep your tongue from calling the maker out. Instead, you offer him a simple, acknowledging nod and reply, “Well, I'll worry about that once we've got these kids back to your tree.”

Bending down, you force away a wince as you turn your hands inwards, sparing the five children from any gruesome glimpse they might catch of your injuries. “Are you guys all good?” you ask.

“Y-yeah!” Kitty bravely squeaks back, sounding about as convincing as a seven year old can be when they're shivering like a leaf in a hurricane. The second you reach out, Archie flings himself from the group and collapses into you, his head pressing uncomfortably hard against your jaw, yet you can't quite find it in you to complain.

“It's okay,” you reassure him, painfully aware of the fact that you're lying through your teeth. Things are about as far from 'okay' as they can possibly can be.

Shaking out your stinging hands, you touch them delicately to the boy's back only to find your progress halted by an enormous shadow looming over the little group and blocking out the moon's rays filtering down from the hole in the roof. Your heart is in your throat so fast you nearly choke on it, flinging your head up in anticipation. However, your shoulders sag with relief once you realise that it isn't a threat bearing down upon you, merely one of Ulthane's hands. The maker has once again leant over the desk and placed his appendage on the ground near your feet, palm tilted towards the ceiling.

“We need to move,” he mutters urgently, and it's only when you look up at his face that you realise his pointed ears are flicking periodically up and down, listening for something your human senses can't pick up. After staring avidly across the museum and out of a window on the far side, the maker fixes you with a meaningful glance. “It'll be a lot faster if I don't have to wait for the littl'uns to keep up.”

You catch his drift at about the same time as Lucia does. The girl begins to back away from his hand but you're too swift, snatching her up and lowering her into the maker's waiting palm. You have to stifle a snort when both he and the child stiffen as soon as they come into contact with one another. Eyes wide, Lucia clings to you even after you let her go and you gently but hurriedly ease her clenched fists off your sleeves.

And then, something happens that you hadn't been expecting.

With a gentleness that's entirely contrary to the brutal strength he exhibited just minutes ago, Ulthane curls his fingers inwards until Lucia sits in the cup of his palm and once he's certain she's not about to fall off, he begins to lift her up towards his face. Upon taking a quick glance up at the maker's expression, you're surprised to find that his soft, blue eyes are just as wide and mesmerised by the tiny being in his grasp as her's are by the giant holding her.

Unbeknownst to you, a strange, alien flurry of electrical impulses are firing off in his brain as he inspects the spark of life pressing back against his guarding fingers.

And here he was thinking you weighed next to nothing. This is something else.

The pack that had once been strapped to her back – an educational tool used for storing tomes, he seems to recall – has made its way around to her front and she holds it tight to her chest as some kind of physical barrier between he and herself.

The maker is suddenly and uncomfortably aware that she must be terrified to have him staring at her like this, but it's as if he can't tear himself away. He's never been so close to someone so fragile before. Not even their youngest, Karn, had been this small when he was born. Ulthane has vivid memories of being reluctant to hold the youngster, convinced that harm would befall him if the rough-and-tumble maker wasn't drastically careful. But this human....This isn't unlike handling a figure made from the finest, most highly breakable porcelain.

He tips his head to one side and after a beat, the girl copies the action, causing his ears to flick up in curiosity. Her reaction gives him pause and he considers her for another moment, then slowly tilts his head in the opposite direction. Once again, she follows suit and her breaths start to even out, intrigue at last superseding her nerves.

Swallowing audibly, Lucia looks down over the side of the giant's palm, seeing you've turned to help Sam and Ashleigh to their feet. Then, she looks past you, into the darkness of the museum and raises a hand, scrubbing the heel of it over her damp face and sniffling, “Did...did you kill all the monsters?”

Ulthane is so busy revelling in the triumph of having the child actually speak to him that he barely registers the question being posed. He lets out an idle hum, then seems to realise he's being stared at by an apprehensive youngling and he blinks, straightening up. “Oh! Oh, aye! Aye, you'll not be havin' any more trouble from those monsters,” he tells her proudly and jabs a thumb at his chest, “Old Ulthane took care of 'em.” A thoughtful look passes over his face then and he gets an idea.

Darting his eyes secretively from side to side, the maker brings her just a little closer in and, as he'd hoped, Lucia responds in kind by lowering her bag and shifting forwards, one of her hands coming to brace on the side of his thumb and subsequently sending an unexpected jolt right through his heart. Shoving the feeling aside, Ulthane lowers his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “That's my job, you know...”

“Wha-What is?” she whispers back, all traces of tears now drying on her cheeks.

You turn back around just in time to catch the next bit of the bizarre exchange, Kitty's hand holding your fingers in a vice-like grip. It seems that the maker is completely caught up in his own game when he replies to his enraptured audience member, his gruff voice dripping with grandeur, “Why, fightin' monsters, o' course!”

Shaking your head, you chime in, “Oh god, don't tell her that, she'll never leave you alone.”

But Lucia's eyes are already sparkling as though they're filled with stars and her mouth peels open to reveal a gap-tooth grin. “You're like Heracles!” she announces and her grip on his thumb excitedly grows stronger. .

Ulthane raises one of his brows and tilts his head at the girl. “Er, Hera-... Who?”

“Heracles!”

Lucia's abrupt shift in mood is apparently enough to pique the interests of her fellow classmates who all pick up on her noticeable lack of fear, edging just a little closer to the giant.

“He was the strongest, bravest man who ever lived!” the youngster in his hand gushes as she's raised to a broad shoulder and gingerly deposited there by fingers larger than her body, “He killed monsters too!”

“Did he now...?” With a little prodding, the girl's hand is eventually persuaded to wrap itself into Ulthane's thick, blue scarf for purchase. She hardly takes a breath before she starts listing off the famous hero's, twelve tasks whilst a bewildered Ulthane raises his brows down at you inquiringly.

You merely offer him a sympathetic shrug in return, though you don't bother to hide your palpable relief. With any luck, Sam, Ashleigh, Kitty and Archie will be put at ease now that their friend has tested the waters and proved that the threat this giant poses is minimal at best.

If nothing else, at least Ulthane has managed to appeal himself to one child.

With the girl still chattering in his ear, he lowers a hand once more and lays it on the ground near your feet. Kitty is next, crushing your fingers against one another as you help her up and into the maker's palm with gentle assurances that he won't let her fall. She frowns at you and adamantly insists that she isn't scared, though her bottom lip quivers as she too is lifted carefully to Ulthane's other shoulder.

Once she's close enough, she takes the opportunity to practically leap off his hand and finds herself scrabbling for purchase on his metallic pauldron. To her dismay however, a low chuckle slips out of the giant's mouth when she gradually begins to slide down his front and he reacts by catching her shirt between his thumb and forefinger before she can fall too far. “Slow down there, little'un,” he warns, plopping her back on his shoulder and waiting until she all but buries her hands into his scarf, her face a little paler than it was before, “Wouldn't want you fallin' off from up there.”

Although his tone is almost playful, there's still an underlying hint of caution to it.

A response comes from the girl, something that sounds a lot like an indignant, “I wasn't gonna fall,” though she goes oddly quiet, squeezing her lips together when Ulthane turns his head to the side and raises an amused eyebrow in her direction.

Even from the ground, you can see Kitty's lower jaw quivering, regardless of how hard she's trying to suppress it, and you suspect that she's putting on a brave front to either impress her peers, or reassure them. Having known the girl for a while now, you're fairly confident it's the former.

After seeing that nothing bad has happened to her friends, it becomes remarkably easy to coax Ashleigh into the maker's palm where she's swiftly joined by an emboldened Sam. The pair of them are so small, they fit snugly together with their fingers entwined in one another's coats and the sight of them both sitting in just one of Ulthane's hands really drives home how unignorably big he is....And how fragile they are.

Perhaps it's this revelation, or the tears still dripping from their chins that prompts the maker to raise them up and press them securely over his thundering heart, hand tilted in a way that partially hides them from the world outside. And when tiny fingertips brush reverently over the epicentre of each, pulsating beat, he has to fight down a contented rumble that threatens to crawl out of his throat.

Finally, he lowers his remaining hand for Archie.

Despite the others going ahead of him however, the young boy digs his heels in when you try steering him towards Ulthane's waiting palm. “No!” he sobs and claws at your sleeves and though it does make a spot in your chest ache terribly, you turn a deaf ear to his pleading as you slide your hands underneath his arms and lift him onto the maker's cupped appendage.

“Sorry, kiddo, but you'll be much safer up there than you will be on the ground,” you explain, “Ulthane'll take care of you.”

It's strange. The more you say it out loud, the more you start to realise you've actually begun to trust the maker who – no more than a few hours ago – was just an unfamiliar giant who had kidnapped you and taken you back to his lair halfway up a tree trunk. Perhaps you're more exhausted than you previously thought.

Shaking off the encroaching weariness from your bones, you cast a lingering glance back at the body of your former colleague and pull yourself up onto the desk, neglecting to notice that Ulthane's hand has remained poised beside you, expectant and waiting.

Gradually, a long crevice appears between his brows and he swivels his head around to follow your progress as you scoot across the flat, polished surface before hopping down to the floor on the other side.

“Oi!”

You flinch at the abrupt exclamation and turn to see the maker's lips twisted into an unhappy frown.

“...What?”

As if it were painfully obvious, he responds by extending his arm towards you once more and giving it the tiniest of shakes, mindful of an increasingly perplexed Archie clinging on in the centre of his palm.

After a moment, it dawns on you that he means for you to join the children, and though your body all but begs for you to cave in and accept his help, you hold up your hands and take several steps backwards, shaking your head. “Oh, no, that's okay! I – I can walk!”

No sooner do the words tumble out of your mouth than the line etched in Ulthane's forehead somehow manages to grow even deeper. “Now, I know I let you walk here,” he growls sternly, “but let me tell you somethin', bonnie, yer not walkin' all the way back.”

“Ulthane, you can't carry all of us.”

Affronted by your suggestion, the maker huffs and draws himself up. “Yes I bloody well can.”

“These kids are your priority right now,” you argue, "I don't need your protection. Not like they do.”

“You're hurt!” The maker's temper flares in conjunction with your stubborn refusal to be helped.

However, you merely plant a hand on your hip and throw the other out, gesturing wildly at his arm and declaring, “Well, so are you!”

“Wh-!” The maker actually scoffs at that, jostling his shoulders hard enough that Lucia and Kitty have to grab onto his scarf with both hands to avoid slipping off.

It's their squeaks of alarm that suddenly sap the frustration out of his old bones and he immediately falls still, which in turn allows the girls a chance to right themselves. Only once he's sure they're in no great peril, Ulthane blows a heavy sigh through his nostrils and then slowly, gingerly, he crouches down and offers you his hand once again. In an instant, you're opening your mouth to protest, but find yourself rendered silent by the word murmured gently from his lips.

“Please?”

Taken aback, you falter. Never in a million years did you think a being that big could speak so tenderly, and the way his troubled, blue eyes seem to gaze into yours as though you're just as important to him as the children are to you.....Well.

Allowing a groan to blurt out of your mouth, you throw your hands up in defeat, exasperated but willing to indulge him. “Just this once,” you stress firmly, ignoring the triumphant grin that spreads behind his auburn beard.

The maker hardly waits for you to turn around before he nudges his hand into the crook behind your knees and you narrowly avoid toppling backwards into Archie. The moment you're in Ulthane's grasp, the boy presses himself firmly against your side and it becomes brazenly obvious just how nerve-racking this whole situation is for him judging by the quakes of his leg against your thigh.

And if you can feel him shaking, then you're almost certain that Ulthane can too.

But the maker, while a little disheartened that no less than three of the children are in similar states of unrest, still feels a hefty weight lift from his shoulders at the knowledge that in his hands are six, very fragile, very alive humans.

It's like a tonic. Having them held so close eases a little of his agitation and he lets out a soft exhale. Suddenly, all seems right with the world once more.

“Okay,” he hums, absentmindedly pushing the pad of his thumb into your back just to feel your fluttering heartbeat, a reassurance that you're still okay, “Let's get you all back to the tree...”

You suddenly find yourself rocked in your seat when he begins to move swiftly but steadily towards the hole in the wall you'd entered through and you throw a hand out for balance, planting it on his thick-set wrist. All at once, your fingertips are greeted by the thrum of a strong pulse and you tiredly swing your head down to peer at Ulthane's forearm, if only to distract yourself from thinking about the many, many dangers that lay in wait out in the city.

It must be quite the sight, you think. An almighty maker tromping through streets and back alleys that were never built with a man his size in mind, and accompanying him, six humans, cupped either in his hands or perched upon his sturdy shoulders. A part of you still desperately wants to believe that this is all some terrible, twisted nightmare and it's so bizarre, you'll surely have to wake up from it soon...

Won't you?

The insistent pangs of hunger tell an unfortunate truth.

Apparently, you aren't the only one experiencing that hollow ache in your gut.

“Miss?”

Twisting your neck around, you peer up at Lucia. “Yeah?”

“M'hungry...” The girl trails off as a yawn overtakes her and she pauses, rubbing a fist into one of her eyes. You throw her a sympathetic smile but before you can reply, Ulthane catches your gaze.

“There's plenty of food back at the tree,” he explains, immediately raising some interested murmurs from the children. Your eyebrows shoot up and the corner of Ulthane's mouth quirks just enough to show off one of his tusks. “What? You didn't think we'd let any of you humans starve, did you?”

“No, it's not that. It's just...” Pausing to chew absently on your lower lip, you shrug. There's a topic of concern you feel needs to be broached, though you're a little anxious to do it. In the end, you wet your lips and say carefully, “You've already done...so much for us. And we haven't even done anything for you. Now you're saying you went out and found us food....”

Ulthane must be sharper than you give him credit for because within seconds, he's picked up on the badly concealed meaning behind your words.

“For all it must look from where you're standin', I'm a maker, not a monster. N' I'm not about to turn around and ask you for something in return,” he tells you with a simple directness that leaves you just a tiny bit sheepish. Then, stepping over the wall of rubble and emerging out into the museum carpark, he lowers his voice to a far kinder rumble and adds, “M'only tryin' to help you, lass.” He doesn't say anything further, and you only just manage to bite down on your urge to reply, 'We'll see,' instead turning your face up to the skyscrapers looming overhead and pushing a noncommittal noise from the back of your throat.

Praying to whatever deity you aren't even sure exists anymore for a safe journey back to the tree, you snake one arm around Archie and draw him further into your side whilst the fingers on your other hand trace lazy shapes in the softer skin of Ulthane's wrist. And if that steadfast pulse begins jackhammering in response to your light touches, you're much too exhausted to notice.

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

The trip back through the ruined city passes by much faster than you expected it to.

Of course, that could be down to the frequent periods of blissful darkness that descend over you every time you decide to let your eyes droop for a brief rest.

You remember bits and pieces of the journey - Sam whimpering when a growl echoes up from beneath a manhole cover, prompting Ulthane to gently bounce the boy in his enormous hand a few times and shush him. A skittering of rocks and stones raining down from the roof of a building and the maker abruptly flattening himself against a wall, his eyes trained on the dark sky overhead.

At some point, you find yourself wondering whether he would bother to be so stealthy if you and the children weren't here. It isn't difficult to imagine a being with his daunting presence storming through the streets with nary a worry for whatever crosses his path. All the sneaking around, ducking into back alleys and keeping to the shadows doesn't fit his image at all. You're thankful though, not only for the obvious breaking of his own norms, but also for the way he's constantly angling his body so that those awful, familiar shapes littered upon the ground are kept predominantly out of the kids' line of sight.

It's odd, really. The thing that keeps you from slipping too far into the realm of sleep isn't the impending doom that could potentially lay around every corner or the knowledge that you and the children could well be the last humans alive in the city. It isn't the ceaseless stinging of your wounded palms and it isn't even the fact that you'd had to kill a woman you used to work with not too long ago.

No. It's hunger that keeps you jerking awake every two minutes and not even the lulling sway of your gigantic defender's footsteps is enough send you off to sleep.

So when he turns a corner and you find yourselves staring out over a recognisable city square, you nearly fall forwards off your perch when what feels like a truckload of relief slams into you at full force. Even some of the tension dribbles out of Ulthane's rigid stance.

“Never thought I'd be so happy to see a damn tree,” you chuckle quietly, earning a grunt of accord from the maker as he makes his way around the edge of the square, still on high alert.

“Looks like Elanya's been out here doin' some pest control,” he remarks as he steps over the flattened corpse of a four-legged demon with a canine's snout and razor-sharp teeth, fresh blood dripping from its glistening chops. He'd have to remember to both thank the young maker later, and reprimand her for leaving the tree by herself. There are several demons laying dead around the square, and not a one of them looks to have been killed by the blade of Yarin's axe.

The girl on his left shoulder – Kitty, he thinks – suddenly gives his beard a hesitant tug.

“Eh?” he grunts, turning his head to look at her and finding her gaping up at the tree's impressive trunk.

“Whassat?” she breathes and her fingers curl a little tighter around a fistful of his thick, coarse beard.

“That?” Ulthane returns his attention to the surrounding area and replies, “Tha's where we're goin', lassie. It's a maker tree.”

She makes a small sound of awe but doesn't ask him to elaborate and he gives a mental shrug, figuring she'll see for herself very soon anyway.

Creeping around the vast trunk, Ulthane eventually sags when the moving platform comes into view. One of the other makers must have guessed he'd be looking to take it back up, so they sent it down to meet him. 'Yarin, most likely,' he smirks to himself, 'Elanya wouldn't plan anything in advance.'

The Old one steps heavily onto the lift and allows a great heap of strain to leave his shoulders. When they slump down, Lucia tries to hold back a squeal as she's teetered off balance and fumbles for something to grab, eventually deciding to just smack one of her palms upon Ulthane's cheek and use his face to steady herself. If he minds at all, he doesn't show it.

Striding up to a lever in the centre of the platform, he pauses in front of it, casting you an almost apologetic look. “'Fraid I'll be needin' my hands back now,” he says, kneeling down and lowering you, Archie, Sam and Ashleigh to the wooden floor.

Offering him a wordless smile, you hoist yourself off his palm and turn to lift Archie down. On your other side, Ashleigh and Sam all but tumble from the maker's grasp and stagger away from him, shooting uncertain glances in every direction.

“Hey! What about us?”

The maker chuckles at Kitty's alarmed squeak and reaches up to scoop her off his shoulder. “Aye, I've not forgotten you either, missy.”

“Lucia!” you bark suddenly, “Please don't climb down by yourself! You might fall!”

While the maker was distracted with retrieving Kitty, Lucia took it upon herself to start an unsteady descent and promptly freezes with one foot slipped into the chain connecting Ulthane's pauldron to his belt, glancing back over a shoulder to gauge how serious you are.

Amused, the giant deposits Kitty next to her other classmates and uses two fingers to pluck the adventurous Lucia from his armour. She moans loudly and crosses her arms, complaining, “I can do it,” under her breath, only serving to widen Ulthane's grin.

Once free of humans, he straightens up again and grabs the enormous lever, giving it a firm tug and then a kick when the lift shudders again. “Blasted thing,” he grumbles, only relaxing when the platform starts to rumble steadily up off the ground.

A few of the children stagger sideways at the abrupt motion and you reach out a hand to snag Asheigh's sleeve, holding her upright. She tosses you a grateful look that's soon interrupted by a wide yawn.

Before you know it, you've succumbed as well. “Oh, oh excuse me!” you hum, covering your mouth. You don't notice the fond tilt of Ulthane's head, as if he'd never seen a human yawn before and finds the sight utterly captivating.

Then without warning, you're blinking sleepily up at him and he realises he's been staring. His eyes grow wide and he quickly jerks his gaze away, all of a sudden very interested in picking at the dirt under his nails.

Sure and steady, the lift trundles dutifully up into the tree and once the tarmac below falls completely out of view, you find yourself engulfed in a comforting warmth that has only a little to do with the thick tree bark blocking out the night's chill.

You'd made it back to the tree in once piece.

The kids are all here with you.

They're all tired and hungry, but they're okay.

The revelation is overwhelming and you press your lips together, closing your eyes against the sting of tears. From a general perspective, things are dire - worse than dire, of that you've no doubt. But for now, in this moment, things are just okay.

“Bonnie? Y'alright?”

Ulthane's gravelly voice seems to meld perfectly with the thrumming hum of the lift and you peel your reluctant eyes open again, sniffing hard. “Yeah, I'm okay. Just tired.”

The warm, orange glow is slowly growing brighter and brighter as you draw closer to the main chamber. Overhead, a large shadow dances across the wall and you hear a voice exclaim, “They're back!”

You suddenly have five children sidestepping across the lift once it comes to a loud, creaking stop until they're all standing behind you, rapidly blinking sleep from their eyes and trying desperately to stay alert in the face of an unfamiliar giant.

Elanya comes bounding across the tree and screeches to a halt just before she runs you all over, her hands lifting to squeeze her cheeks together.

Almost unconsciously, you move your arms out to the side and back the children up a step or two. Ulthane may have proven that he can be gentle with them but this new maker is still a complete stranger to you, regardless of whether she'd patched you up before.

“Oh! By! The! Stone!” she croons, her ears pricked up in delight, “Yarin! C'mere! They've got bairns with 'em!”

Behind her, the other maker approaches with far more caution, treading softly as if he's afraid that one misstep could send you and the kids running. To be honest, with the way Archie's arm's are shaking, you wouldn't be surprised if that ends up being the case. Yarin stops just shy of Elanya and peers over her shoulder, his dark brows raised almost high enough to let you see the small, incredulous eyes staring out from underneath them.

“Well, bugger me....” he mutters and rubs at the back of his bald head, bewildered.

Behind you, Sam cringes and hides his face in the back of your blouse.

It comes as a shock to you, and apparently to the other makers as well, when Ulthane takes a sudden, decisive step in front of you and the children, effectively obscuring you from sight. “Easy, gal,” he warns Elanya, who blinks and drags her gaze back up to him, “They're a mite jumpy. Think it's best we don't rattle 'em too much, aye?.”

The youngling must have seen something in his face that you can't from your angle because she abruptly ducks her head, hands swinging to clasp each other behind her back. “Aye,” she huffs defeatedly, “Sorry.”

You watch him cuff her playfully on the chin and she snorts, her smile creeping back into its usual spot.

“How about fetchin' something for these wee tykes to eat, eh?” Ulthane suggests and she springs upright once more, a hand flying to her head to give him a quick salute before she's bounding away across the tree and almost bowling Yarin over in the process.

With a satisfied grunt, Ulthane steps away from the lift and beckons for you to follow him. After casting the third maker a wary glance, you take Archie and Ashleigh by the hands and lead your little group after him, feet dragging the whole way.

“She's got a good heart,” Ulthane tells you quietly when you reach his side again, nodding over to where Elanya is rummaging around in a large, cardboard box, “But she's still young. Everythin' here is all so new and excitin' for her.”

“It's fine,” you wave his apology aside and try to stifle another, sleepy yawn. Ever observant, Ulthane catches it and sends you a knowing smirk.

“Need me to carry you upstairs?” He's only half joking. He'd do it in a second if you asked him to. But alas, you merely shake your head and usher the five kids over to the first rope bridge, guided by Ulthane's hand at your back.

“Where are we going?” Ashleigh asks in a whisper, her heavy-lidded eyes barely keeping themselves propped open.

“Straight to bed. I think.” You glance over a shoulder at Ulthane and receive an affirming nod. You make it halfway up the initial ramp when Elanya abruptly pops her head up and beams proudly down at you. To your credit, you only take a single step away instead of falling onto your backside like Archie.

Behind you, Ulthane grumbles at her and reaches down to lift the young boy back onto his feet while in the meantime, you find yourself presented with a handful of crisp packets by an oblivious Elanya.

“Will these be okay for now?” she asks, poking one with a finger as thick as your arm, “I-if not, I think I can find somethin' different.”

She suddenly seems unsure of herself, glaring down at the crisps as though they're inadequate and you've already rejected them.

A little taken aback, you swallow down your trepidation and step closer, cautiously opening your hands and glancing up at her face, hesitating for just a moment before scooping the packets into your arms. “These are....they're perfect. Thank you, Elanya.” For the first time, you send a warm smile up at her. It soon twists into a troubled frown however, upon seeing her own features tipped towards your palms, her amber eyes unexpectedly dark and cold. “E-Elanya? I...These are fine, really.”

She doesn't reply, in fact it seems as though she doesn't even hear you. Instead she points at one of your hands and says, “What's that?”

The shift in demeanour is so jarring, you barely even realise what she's indicating until you glance down past the crisp packets and spot the dried blood meandering between your fingers and down your wrists like rivers of rusty brown.

At your back, Sam tries to lean around you to see.

Before you can come up with an answer for the maker though, she whips her head up and directs that ire-choked scowl at Ulthane.

“You were s'posed to keep her safe,” she growls accusingly and when you look up to the older maker, you're confused that he doesn't even try to defend himself, he just glowers down at your injury with a faraway look in his eye.

Twisting your palms until they're hidden up against the crisps, you swiftly plaster on a look of ebullience and grin up at the giant woman in front of you. “Oh, what, this?” you scoff and it's eerie how much you sound like Ulthane in that moment, “This is nothing. Just a flesh wound! And besides, it was my own, clumsy fault.”

Skeptical, the maker scrunches her nose up, prompting you to press on. “Really, it looks a lot worse than it is. Trust me, I'm a human. I know how much blood we can lose before we need to be worried. The only thing I'm worried about right now, is getting these kids to bed.”

Elanya casts a quick glance over your shoulder to see the five younglings cowering close to the wall and although she looks far from convinced, she lets out a sharp 'tsk' and fixes you with a squinted eye. “You'll let me have a proper look at it when you wake up?”

You have the feeling that you really won't get a say in the matter, so you simply breathe a sigh of resignation and reply, “Promise.”

And just like that, the young maker's face lights up with a dazzling smile. “Smashin'! I'll see you on the morrow, then!” she beams.

“Oh, well I – Yeah, see you.” If you hadn't just seen her manner shift with your own two eyes, you would have sworn up and down that she could have been an entirely different maker.

With another nod of gratitude, you turn and motion for the children to continue up the ramp whilst Elanya looks on, enraptured.

“Watch your step,” Ulthane warns once you reach the swinging rope bridge, though he needn't have worried at all. One by one, the kids navigate the slats of wood with relative ease, although their legs have to stretch to cover the gaps in between. The maker inwardly curses himself for not making the bridge a little more solid.

But, soon enough, all six humans are safely on the other side and as you pass through the large archway into a warm, familiar hollow, you can't quite hold back a groan that sneaks out of you at the sight of a real – albeit rustic – bunkbed.

Just inside the entrance is a large, wooden table and you drag yourself over to it, dumping the packets onto its surface before swivelling about and clapping your hands together. “Okay,” you announce to the gaggle of children, who've already begun to meander towards the back of the room where the pair of bunkbeds lay enticingly in wait. At the sound of your voice, they stop and look over at you. Sam and Archie even try to make their way back to you but you quickly wave a hand at the pillows. “No, no. Go on, get into bed. I was only going to say that one of you needs to share with someone else. There're only four.”

Without hesitation, Lucia grabs Kitty's hand tugs her towards one of the bunks. “I can go top to toe with Kitty!” she calls, “We've had to do it at sleepovers before.”

Kitty nods, rubbing at her eyes and allowing herself to be shepherded up a ladder and onto the higher bed with Lucia scrambling up after her. Behind you, a throaty chuckle catches your ear and you glance back to find Ulthane leaning up against the side of the tree in the entrance, his arms folded loosely across his chest. Despite his casual stance, you can tell he's surveying the room intently, one eye screwed shut while the other follows Ashleigh all the way up her own ladder, like he expects her to fall at any moment.

Sam takes the bunk beneath her which leaves Archie to fumble his way over to the final spot, directly under Kitty and Lucia. On the way, he has his arms stretched out before him and he grabs hold of the ladder before carefully manoeuvring around it, sitting on the dusty, green bedroll.

You could almost smack yourself for forgetting. “Oh, Archie, your glasses...”

The maker tips his head to one side, watching raptly as you get to your feet and select five of the tiny, red packets Elanya had fetched for you. “Glasses?” he pipes up.

“Yeah, poor Archie's got a crack in his.” Shaking your head, you amble over to the boy and hold a packet out in front of him, waiting while he squints at it for a moment, then eventually he plucks it from your grasp and sets about tearing it open. Lucia bends down from her bed and grabs two more packets for herself and Kitty as you turn to look back at Ulthane, raising a brow. “Do you guys not have glasses?”

He lifts his shoulders in a half shrug. “Can't say we do. What're they for?”

“Well-” You pause to move between the beds, passing Sam his own crisps. “- Some humans don't have the best eyesight, so they need these cool little gadgets to help them see. Archie's partially sighted, so.....” You trail off, biting your lip. Jesus, that poor kid. How in the world are you going to fix them, or find a replacement pair? How can you just up and tell him that he'll probably have to cope without them?

Aware that Ulthane's attention is still on you, you clear your throat and continue, “Let's just say he really needed those glasses...”

The maker's brow dips into a frown and he roves his eyes over to the young boy sitting with his knees up against his chest, a now empty crisp packet discarded at his side and the tiny, glass spectacles now laying uselessly on the end of the bed, as if they'd been tossed there begrudgingly.

You miss the maker's contemplative expression because you're too busy stretching up to hand Ashleigh the fifth and final packet.

“I'm not allowed crisps before bed,” she says quietly.

Giving the girl an encouraging smile, you press the food into her hands. “Well, you are tonight.”

It seems as though a massive weight lifts off your shoulders once you're certain all the kids have had some sustenance and you traipse back over to the table, sinking heavily into one of the chairs there with a sigh.

You only close your eyes to alleviate the sting of fatigue but when you open them again, the wax candles dotted around the room have shrunk by a few inches and the children are all lying down on their respective bedrolls, sound asleep if the light snores are any indication. At that moment, your belly rumbles noisily and you realise why you must have woken up.

Just then, something shifts to your right and you whip your head towards the sound, heart rising into your throat. To your relief however, the culprit is none other than Ulthane. He's managed to slump down in the same spot he stood in earlier, his arms draped restfully over bent knees and his gaze tipped back to study the tree's newest layer of heartwood.

A small part of you feels it should be unsettled that you'd fallen asleep in his presence when you ought to have been watching the kids, but to be perfectly frank, you'd be useless to defend them anyway with the state you're in.

Placing a hand over your chest, you sigh and struggle up onto unsteady legs after grabbing a packet of crisps off the table, tearing it open and tipping the contents into your mouth.

The crinkling packet garners the maker's attention and he lowers his head, something in his jaw loosening as you plod over to the entrance and take the side opposite his, plonking yourself down onto your rear with a dull thud and pressing a hand tenderly to a knot in the side of your neck.

“Sorry I didn't wake you,” he murmurs, eyeing the discomfort on your face, “Chair's not the best place for a human to sleep, but you looked like you could use the rest.”

“Mmm, well you weren't wrong there,” you return with a yawn and let your head thunk against the bark behind you, eyes slipping shut.

For a time, you're content to just sit still, listening to the extraordinary tree creak all around you whilst outside, thousands upon thousands of leaves whisper their haunting chorus as they sway in the wind.

The moment doesn't last. It isn't long before you have the distinct inkling you're being watched. Cracking open an eyelid, you peek up at the maker sitting across from you and notice that he's giving your hands a decidedly heated glare, his cheek propped upon a single, gigantic fist.

“You okay there, big fella?”

At the sound of your question, the maker gives a start and snatches his head away, none too discreetly, and you have to suppress a smile at the idea that you could make him jump. Turning his glower onto the nearby table instead, he grumbles something unintelligible and huffs.

You continue to inspect the side of his face idly, almost challenging the giant to meet your gaze again but when it becomes clear he isn't going to, you heave a sigh and lower your eyes to the gouges left in your palms. “You know....It...wasn't your fault, Ulthane.”

All at once, the maker's chest constricts, his guts lurch and he slowly turns his head to look back down at you, filled with a terrible sense of urgency, something in him wanting – needing - to hear the words again. “What did....” He pauses, wetting his lips. “What did you say?”

“I said, it wasn't your fault, what happened.” He only continues to stare at you, so you hold your hands up, showing him the wounds. “To me?”

'Oh....Maker's bones, he really thought you were talking about-?...' Ulthane shakes himself and rushes to answer aloud, “Oh. Yeah, no, I know. It just looks painful, s'all.” He tries to play off nonchalance by scratching the underside of his thick, auburn beard and adding, “You'll really let Elanya have a look tomorrow?”

“Only if you let her look at your arm.”

He tries to sneer at you, though it lacks any real contempt and you just end up with an even broader grin which in turn draws an amused grunt out of his throat. Ulthane regards you carefully for a minute and you can't ignore that there's a definite shadow lingering between his brows, stamped into his skin like a permanent badge of melancholia. Then, before you can look too closely into it, he turns away and nods towards the back of the tree. “Y'know, there's another bedroll over there. Haven't exactly tested it myself-” He chuckles softly and gestures from his head to his boots, managing to pull another half smile from your exhausted lips as well.

“-But I imagine it's more comfy than a wooden chair.”

You roll your head over to where he indicated. Somehow, the vast expanse between you and a bed seems insurmountable from here.

When you don't move, a frown tugs at the maker's lips. “Lass, you should-”

“I'll go, I'll go,” you cut him off with a lazy wave of your hand, adding, “In a minute.”

Sleep sounds like the best thing in the world right now. All you want to do is collapse onto a pillow and be unconscious for a little while. But the horrible truth is, you know that the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you'll have to wake up. And waking up sounds like the absolute worst thing in the world right now...

“Boy...Tomorrow's gonna suck, huh?”

Ulthane snorts softly, his lips parting around those formidable tusks.

“What?” you ask.

“Oh, nothin'. It's just the way you talk.” His grin softens a fraction. “S'different...I like it.”

Now it's your tun to snort. “Wow, you're easily pleased.”

The pair of you share a moment of easy amusement before the room lapses back into perfect silence once more, broken only by one of the children's muffled snores.

“Hey, Ulthane?” Your eyes are so heavy now, as if each eyelash weighs a metric tonne.

“Aye?”

A yawn steals the words from your lips so you try again, stretching your legs out across the floor. “I'm not ready for tomorrow,” you admit in a whisper. Tomorrow is when you'll have to face reality and come to terms with what's happening to the world, now that you're in a place safe enough to give you the luxury of thinking again.

“Best not to worry about it for now,” the maker replies after a moment of reflection, “You n' the littl'uns are safe, that's what matters, bonnie.”

You try to smile. You think you manage it, but your mind isn't really paying attention and you let your chin drop onto your collarbone. Gradually, each blink starts coming slower and slower until your eyes remain shut. “...Ulthane?” you mumble.

The maker's resounding hum is barely more than a low rumble through your chest. “Mm?”

“What does.... bonnie...... mean?” The last word trails off into silence and your head rolls sideways, a cheek squashing up against the wooden wall as sleep finally, mercifully comes to claim you.

#darksiders #Ulthane #Haven #Ulthane x reader #reader #human reader #g/t #fluff #kids #found family #angst #hurt/comfort #whump #giant #undead #zombies #demons #Darksiders 3

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propertyofnikkisthighs · 4 years ago

Text

She’s My Collar pt. 5

So I was gonna try to upload an update for both fics, but I’m still feeling yucky so have this chapter for now which I’m sorry if it’s not great, the next one will be better I promise lol.

Tag List: @nowhereiswhereibelong @littlemisscare-all

“Miss did you hear me?” The officer in front of me grunts.

“I’m sorry could you repeat the question for me?” I ask shyly focusing on him and not Kevin shouting and thrashing as the other cops are shoving him into the police car.

“I asked you if you could give me your recount of the events that took place tonight.”

“Oh right. Well…”

The flames are starting the consume the curtains and spread across the carpet as Tommy and I round the corner from my bedroom. I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab the extinguisher I had luckily purchased when Nikki started lighting himself on fire in their apartment. I toss it to Tommy and he gets everything currently on fire doused with the foamy liquid.

“What the fuck?” He wonders aloud as he reaches down picking up a broken bottle out of the mess. “River who the fuck would throw a moltov cocktail in your apartment?”

It’s like Loki the God of chaos himself is answering him when my door is kicked in and Kevin sways in full of intoxicated rage. He spots me frozen with fear against the fridge and begins to stomp towards me.

“You fucking good for nothing cunt I should’ve killed you when I had the chance” He screams and lunges towards me but is knocked to the ground by Tommy tackling him.

Tommy’s fist is covered in blood by the time I can get him pulled off Kevin and he spits on him as I get him pulled out of there just in time for the police and fire department to be pulling into the parking lot.

“We’ll be in touch.” The man hands me his card with his info on it before getting in his car and leaving.

Tommy is silent as we walk back to my apartment for me to inspect the damage done. My plants near my window scorched and my carpet destroyed is enough to send me over the edge. I collapse in the fetal position and let myself break down for the first time since the chaos began. I feel Tommy lay on the ground next to me and wrap his arms around me letting me have my moment.

“Thank you.” I hoarsely let out.

“I told you that you were stuck with us guys for the rest of your life especially me.” He pressed a small kiss to my shoulder and butterflies filled my stomach.

“Let's get off the ground.” I sniffle the both of us sitting back up slowly and eventually clambering back into my bed.

He pulls me against his body and rests his chin on the top of my head, the soft movement of him breathing lulling me to sleep.

“It’s the goddamn principal of the matter.” Nikki ranted as he paced through my living room while I tried to enjoy my morning coffee.

“So tell Vince you’re pissed.”

“No I can’t let him think he won. He needs to think I never wanted Beth in the first place.” He scoffed.

“Did you want Beth?”

“She gives great blowjobs. That’s why I suggested a threesome in the first place.” He plops into one of my chairs looking up at the ceiling.

“Listen Nikki I’m gonna be brutally honest since we’re friends and you would be with me, this is your fault for opening up your girlfriend to Vince Neil.”

“I hate it when you’re right you know that?”

“You’ll find a new groupie to fuck Nikki you’ll be fine. Now we gotta get to the studio you boys have photos for the album we need to take today.”

The boys had finished recording their first album by the grace of God himself. They spent the entire few days in the studio drunk and pissing off their sketchball manager, but by the end of it they had a full blown album that didn’t take much money to produce. They even got to save money on photos for the album since I was their personal photographer, which aforementioned sketchball was thrilled about. His name was Alan, but I didn’t have a good feeling about him so I rarely referred to him by his name, not to his face.

“My hair isn’t going to show!” Vince pouted in front of the (awful) white background Alan had thrown together for their album pictures.

“It’ll be fine Vinnie we’re gonna get them edited by a professional.” He quipped from beside me.

“Excuse me?” I ask unaware he was having somebody else edit my photos.

“Well yeah sweetheart you expect me to trust the work of an amature to look good enough without editing? You’re out of your mind.”

“Listen here you sweaty ass-” I’m cut off by Tommy’s hand covering my mouth blocking the next slew of insults I had prepared.

“Let's take 5 for a cigarette break” He says cheerfully and leads me away still covering my mouth.

“You can stop licking my hand thinking that is gonna make me move it from your mouth you know.” Tommy says after dragging me outside the building we were shooting in. I pull away from him and fix him with a death glare that he just chuckles at lighting up a cigarette.

“I don’t want someone else to fuck with my photos Tommy. They’ll ruin it, I just know it.”

“It’ll be fine Riv. Besides if it’s fucked up then next time Alan can pay you more to do the photos and the editing.”

“Yeah that cheap bastard isn’t about to pay me more for jack shit Tommy.” I roll my eyes and pace back and forth in front of him. “Are you guys sure you want him as your manager? He gives me a weird feeling.”

“I think you’re paranoid babe” Tommy pulled me close and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Now lets get through this photoshoot so we can party it up later alright?”

“As much as I hate The Troubadour sometimes, yes I’m willing to get through the rest of the photoshoot so that we can go ‘party it up’ with the boys there” I tease and lean in close to him.

Tommy’s intoxicating scent of leather, cigarettes, and the men’s body wash I’ve been getting him to use pulls me in and I tuck my face into his neck and place a soft kiss there. He hums as his hand plays softly in my hair and he pulls slightly to tilt my head up. Our lips connect in a soft peck and he pulls away to stroke my cheek with his thumb.

When I walk back in Alan was nowhere to be found, which was perfect for me so that I could get my work done faster. Vince it seems has also finished his little temper tantrum as well. The rest of the shoot goes by without a hitch and we get our final shot for the cover of the album, which was just a close up shot of Vince’s crotch. By the time we get done and piled into my car it’s about time to get ready for the party the boys were throwing for completing the album and releasing it themselves on their own record label.

“Are you Nikki Sixx?” A voice off to the side of Nikki calls and he turns from our conversation with a shit eating grin giving her a single “no” in response.

“Oh well that’s a shame cause I was going to split this quaalude with him.” She shrugs and goes to move on, but Nikki quickly stops her and confirms he in fact is Nikki Sixx and he was just fucking with her.

I watch her smile and bite her drug in half placing the other half onto Nikki’s tongue and he looks like he just might be falling in love for the first time. I look around and see Vince and Beth wrapped up together and Mick nursing his bottle of vodka, but I can’t find Tommy. I make my way through the crowd up to the bar and I don’t spot the tall brunette anywhere. He could just be outside smoking a cigarette, I tell myself feeling the bits of insecurity start to blossom in my head.

“Two Jack and Cokes please” I say to the bartender when I finally get his attention. I figure if I go to find Tommy with a drink in hand it makes me look less like a crazy person.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing ordering your own drinks?” The man to my left says and I have to put effort into not rolling my eyes.

“Well nothing on me is broken so I’m more than capable of getting my own drinks” I shoot back trying to walk away, but his hand comes up to block me from going forward.

“I’m just saying if you got a man he should be catering to you. What’s your name goddess?” His sickening grin shows teeth all too white against far too tan of skin.

“Her name is none of your business.” A deep huff comes from behind me and I turn to see Mick casually leaning against the bar.

“What are you her fucking dad?” The overly bronze man snaps.

“I’m trying to help you, but if you don’t want to keep all your fucking teeth that’s your dumbass decision.” Mick chuckles and tips his head to Tommy making his way towards us already sending hate eyes to the man next to me.

“You should listen to the man.” I shrug. “He fights.” I nod toward Tommy for emphasis.

The man looks like he’s about to argue when I feel Tommy slide his arm across my shoulders.

“This guy bothering you babe?” He asks sipping the drink in my hand never breaking eye contact with the strange guy with a look that said ‘one wrong move and I’ll kill you.

I smile like a cat that just caught a mouse and sip my drink as well.

My back hits the back wall of the closet as Tommy tries to find a secure place to hold my body so he can kiss me and grind into me at the same time.

“Fuck can I get this kind of reaction everytime I stick up for you.” Tommy pants breaking away from our kissing to catch his breath.

He hisses as I grind against him while pulling his hair back to expose his neck to me. I take the opportunity to nip at the skin there and feel the rumbling of another groan pass through him. Tommy begins to unlace his pants and suddenly the realization of how public we are hits me. Right as a worker opens the closet door to be exact.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” I yelp climbing off Tommy and rushing out of the closet and out the back door. Tommy is hot on my tail quickly catching up with the help of his long ass legs.

“Come on.” Tommy begins leading me to my car. “We’re going to your apartment to finish this.

#she's my collar #tommy lee fanfic #mgk!tommy lee fan fic #mgk!tommy lee #Tommy Lee #nikki sixx fanfic #douglas booth!nikki sixx #douglas booth!nikki sixx fanfic #nikki sixx #vince neil fanfic #daniel webber!vince neil #daniel webber!vince neil fanfic #Vince Neil #mick mars fanfic #Mick Mars #iwan rheon!mick mars #iwan rheon!mick mars fanfic #motley crue fanfic #the dirt fan fiction

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pangtasias-atelier · 5 years ago

Note

How about this: Felix has been eating cake very often, everyone has told him, he can't stop. He'll grow bigger and will realize that no matter how much he trains he cannot recover his figure, on the contrary everything gets worse. Someone will tell him it's out of control. Felix will refuse. Sudenly he feels is about to burst and BOOM. It was a dream. He had fallen asleep without finishing his cake. He will move it away in anger "Im NOT out of control" After a few minutes, he will eat it. Ty~ :3

This one got really long omg. And after shortening down the ideas I had for the other Blue Lions’ interactions lol

But! Another one I’m happy how it came out. Now I just wish I actually bettered myself and took like actual writing lessons but eh, focusing on other stuff right now.(Still wanna make sure I’m not fucking up and mixing tenses tho)

This was really fun to write, so I hope you enjoy!! Especially since you’ve made a bunch of good FE fats for us and thank you for that!~

___________________

Felix doesn't know how it started, maybe it was a spell, new ingredients, a better chef, but it was something. Anything. Anything but his own fault.

All of a sudden his innate disdain for cake was replaced with a wanton need for it. Everyday, he needed some of it to satisfy his insatiable cravings for it.

And despite the signs all pointing to a clearly obvious problem, Felix was the only one who refused to see it. Even as a bit of pudge began to form on his thin body.

The first had been Annette.

On a visit to House Fraldarius, the day had been spent in relative uneventfulness, the day consumed with talks about their territories. It was upon dinner that the mood had changed.

Unable to control her expression, the puzzlement displayed on her face on a visit to House Fraldarius is evident to Felix, his features tightening in a scowl.

"Just say whatever it is your thinking instead of keeping it to yourself like those mindless gossipers," Felix spits out, already scowling.

"I'm surprised to see you of all people eating cake, Felix," Annette smiles at him.

Felix responds with a scowl, his grip tightening. His slice of cake sits nearly finished, Felix almost devouring it entirely if it hadn't been for Annette interrupting him.

"You always hated the stuff,"

"Well, opinions change," Unwilling to deal with any comments over his shameful new preference for the decadent sweets, Felix simply stands up and walks away with his plate in hand.

It takes a couple of hours when he's cooled down from the conversation for him to leave his room. Unfortunately, despite the cover of night, he encounters Annette in the training grounds.

Casting a simple wind spell, the rush of air still flows faster than it should, both of their clothes willowing in the rapid gusts.

Felix catches the glint of metal against the wall, Crusher resting. Deciding to head back, Annette turns around, face neutral. Caught, Felix sighs, resulting with his hand on his hip.

"I overreacted, what else do you want me to say?"

"An apology would be a nice start," Closing her tome, Annette wipes the sweat off her forehead, her hair disheveled. Grabbing Crusher, Felix forces himself to not visibly react at the way she easily grabs it and carries it.

"Sure, I'm sorry for whatever I did," Felix grumbles. Crossing his arms on his chest and resting on the heels of his feet, Felix makes out the way Annette's eyes quickly drift down this time before they don't, Annette making sure to be less obvious.

“Don’t let it get out of control,” Annette offers, smiling.

Felix doesn't ask her what else she wants to say this time, biting his tongue back and blushing.

The second had been Ingrid.

The embarrassment of Annette noticing his slight paunch apparently hadn't been enough shame for Felix, his constant devouring of cake only worsening.

The small bump for a stomach grew into a large swell, clothes needing an upsizing by his tailors. His flat, sightly defined chest filled out with small flabby bumps. Yet it was his lower half that grew larger in proportion. His thighs became swaddled with a generous portion of overlapping fat, his graceful movements now slower and clunkier. The rise of his ass was a reminder to his size, his sizeable asset jostling about with each hefty waddle.

Annoyed with having a visitor so soon again, Ingrid's usual calm disposition was relatively easy to deal with. As long as he didn't raise his own temper, her's wouldn't rise either.

Except Ingrid had no sense of calmness, immediately going to fretting over Felix.

Felix who had been so agile and active. Felix who hated cake. Felix who had been

"You do know you have a problem, right?" Ingrid asks over dinner, her eyes on Felix's plate of food, the portion much larger than before. The clanking of his fork on his plate only prompts Ingrid to speak more. “Of course you don’t,” Ingrid sighs. “You’re too busy criticising others and their issues that you don’t even see your own,”

“I don’t have a problem,” Felix leans back into his chair before he feels the heft of his own body resting on him, Felix sitting upright once again. Yet even in that position he feels the way his stomach seeps onto his thighs.

“Really Felix?” Ingrid frowns, pushing her hair to the side.

“I can work it off,” Felix gives in, only partially.

“Then you would have already,” Ingrid fights back. “It’s getting out of control,”

Yet no matter how much further she goes, Felix refuses to admit his issue. And so by the time Ingrid’s entourage and ride arrives, she finds it far better to simply leave and free herself of Felix’s own stubbornness than to deal with even more back and forth arguments.

Nothing learned, Felix pays no heed to Ingrid’s words, cake far more important. Any kind he could get his greedy hands on would do. Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry shortcake, cheesecake, lemon, regardless of the flavour, Felix felt the need to devour it all the same.

His sense of time lessening, the only truly memorable moments was when he was stuffing himself with the delicious sweet contents of cake.

His waistline suffering for it, his own remarks of training off the extra abundant inches off his waist never came. Soon, walking became more difficult, chairs became too weak, doors too narrow, clothes too revealing. To Felix, everything else had an issue except himself. Even as he continued to grow fatter and fatter.

Most likely through Ingrid’s meddling, soon other former members of the Blue Lions came to check up on him.

The third had been Mercedes.

Her charitable nature and nice sensibility had led to her coddling him on her first day, Mercedes even baking a cake for Felix. That had apparently been a test, Felix failing it when he finished it in one sitting. Her kind coddling was only met with more detest on Felix’s end.

Felix undeniably fat, his poorly fitting outfit was only more cause of concern on Mercedes’ end. Instead he had merely thanked her for the cake before waddling away, his shelf of an ass wobbling behind him all the while.

The fourth and fifth had been Ashe and Dedue together.

The two specializing in cooking, Ashe’s own successful inn clearly showed on his short frame, Ashe containing a paunch. Dedue was the same as ever, his figure massively built and stacked.

Whereas Ashe was at most chubby, Felix was obese, his titanic rolls swaddling his body, his cheeks marring his own scowl and softening it. And instead of hedding both of their concerns, all Felix had were retorts to Ashe’s own size.

The two didn’t remain long, Felix targeting both Ashe and Dedue for Ashe’s newfound weight alongside both no longer having the patience meant Felix had been free of their torment.

Some dedication to his training grounds, and he’ll easily work off the extra weight is what Felix clings on to.

But those days never arrive, Felix happily gorging himself on cake and nothing but cake.

The sixth had been Dimitri.

Finally able to take the chance to get away from his own dealings as King of Fhirdiad, Dimitri instead had to deal with an annoyed Felix. Only a week after Ashe and Dedue’s visit, Felix had overall been the same out of shape angry person.

Dimitri a passionate person, his scathing remarks had been the only ones to get Felix to shut up and listen. Pointing out Felix’s need for three chairs at the table, if he even bothered to walk instead of eating in his room, the way his body was inundated with rolls making even the simplest of tasks a chore for him to pull off, his increasing appetite that only would worsen with time. Dimitri had actually even made Felix use his training grounds for the first time since Felix could even see past his mountain, roll riddled gut.

The pathetic speed Felix swung his sword only made Dimitri worry more, Felix struggling to even get a proper grip with his bingo wingo arms pressing against the side of his moobs. Felix’s complaints and asks for a break were ignored by Dimitri, forcing his friend to keep going.

By the time Dimitri had left the next day, he left with hopes for Felix, Felix grumbling yet thankful for talking sense into him.

Except after a couple days, Felix’s own inability to control his appetite left him giving up, Felix merely reverting back to his gluttonous lazy self.

The seventh and last had been Sylvain.

Felix so far gone in his ravenous ways, the last vestiges of his own mobility was apparent. Sylvain had whistled upon sighting Felix, eyes wide open, unable to believe it himself.

Where Dimitri embarrassed Felix to help him, Sylvain had done the opposite. Ridiculing Felix, Sylvain did it with the intention of putting him down.

Grabbing Felix and forcing him to walk, Felix sweating and waddling by his side while he heaved and puffed all the while in between curses, Sylvain would tire him out only to leave him alone, Felix falling down to the floor with a resounding crash and staying there. Forcing him to sit on a single chair instead of the necessary four so he’d crush yet another piece of furniture. Pushing him into too narrow doorways only to leave him stuck inside, Felix too fat and wide to get through or push himself out. Barraging Felix’s entire body with powerful slaps to make his engorged body shake as if an earthquake had just occured.

Sylvain’s cruel methods had only reinforced the subconscious idea in Felix’s brain of why even bother. Unfortunately for Felix, Sylvain had stayed the longest, a month of disparaging remarks and acts endured by Felix. Sylvain had even left without a word, disappearing in the night.

Unwilling to act and far too fat to do so, Felix’s only companion was the increasing amounts of cake he devoured each day. The ability to one day quit and lose all of his weight always in the back of his mind, said day never came, Felix reaching immobility before he even had time to consider the possibility. Not that he ever would consider it, Felix too stubborn to think he’d let himself go this far.

A feeding tube in his room, Felix hadn;t even remembered asking for such a thing, his mind in a constant haze of cake. Barely a couple hours after lunch, Felix was already on his fifth meal. Each lasting an hour, he only paused intermittently for a few minutes, his hunger quickly coming back.

Bed completely covered in his own rolls, Felix can feel all his weight press down on him from lying on his back. Only able to stare at his tube and the ceiling, wiggling his fingers and toes are the only other things for him to do besides eating or sleeping. His ass encapsulating the bed and reaching the floor, Felix pays it no mind, focusing instead on guzzling the cake flavored whatever, Felix even uncaring about what it is he’s devouring.

Reaching a full state, Felix mumbles past the tube, his incoherent words a jumble. Expecting the tube to turn off, it remains on, filling his stomach with a torrent of cake. Increasing his complaints, the only response is his feeding tube picking up in speed, Felix gurgling as he;s forced to devour it all. Chugging it, Felix feels himself expanding.

Stomach rising in the air and cascading all around like melted vanilla ice cream, his breasts flow and sink back down towards his face, his numerous neck rolls meeting them head on. His thighs become even more dimpled, the couch sized appendages forced even wider to accommodate the rapidly filling thighs as they grow larger and wider. His ass pushes him high in the air, Felix groaning as his large room becomes even more cramped, his now blob like body filling it.

His feeding continues, Felix groans, his eyes half lidded as he continues to guzzle. His stomach stiff, the stuffed state of it feels oddly relaxing, Felix giving in to the tube. Suckling it, Felix complains as his body finally reaches the edge of his room, fat reaching from corner to corner. Huffing,the cramped and compressed nature of it makes him complain. Body seemingly one large blob with no definition, joints seemingly improbable, the walls begin to crack and tumble as Felix grows ever fatter,his eyes even hard to keep open with so much fat clinging to his body. The floor even cracking underneath him, it takes no time for the whole area to explode, Felix’s body rushing out like a dam breaking.

Jolting up in his chair, Felix hisses as he hits his arm against his table.

Alone in his room, Felix heaves as he checks himself. Nightclothes on, a simple pair of shorts and a shirt, the moon high in the sky notifies him of it being night. Grabbing his stomach, Felix grimaces as his hand wraps around a sliver of pudge. Sniffing, the aroma of strawberry assaults his nose. Turning to the table, Felix spots the remnants of a slice, a couple of forkfuls left.

Sighing upon realizing it was all a dream despite the vividness, Felix leans back into his chair. Glaring at the cake, Felix stands up. Bones aching, he stretches, humming as they crack. The warm covers of his bed calling and reaching out to him, Felix takes a couple of steps. His stomach growling, the hunger calls and reaches out to im as well. Glancing at the bed, then the cake, and then finally his stomach, Felix frowns. Grabbing the plate, he swiftly devours the remains of the cake.

“I’m not out of control,” He grumbles to himself.

#My writing #ssbhm #fat!felix #fat!threehouses #male weight gain #immobility

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backtothestart02 · 7 years ago

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Muse | Chapter 9 [4.01]

A/N: @valeriemperez got this beta’d for me just in time!!! A QUEEN. I hope y’all enjoy this. It’s inspired mostly from the most recent Flash promo showcasing a hairy Barry and a Cisco pestering him about his new suit. lol. Irisco humor + westallen angst, and inevitably Barry getting shaved. Enjoy! :D

Iris sat in the next room and tried to stuff her emotions back beneath the surface. Barry had come back. He had actually come back. What they had done had worked. He was here. In the same building. With all of them.

But he wasn’t Barry.

She’d dissolved the minute she peeked into the room at CCPD and caught a glimpse of his form.

Her Barry was home.

But he wasn’t.

He was talking gibberish. He didn’t appear to remember any of them. His biggest focus was on drawing strange symbols all over the walls that didn’t make any more sense than the words he spoke aloud. He wasn’t the Barry they knew, and she was falling apart all over again.

That couldn’t happen.

We shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this. I should have prevented this from happening. I should have…

But she knew she wouldn’t have. For all her resolve and determination that not rescuing Barry from the speed force was the best course of action, there was a little flare of light inside her that whispered to her what if…?

And that light – and Cisco and her dad – had pushed her to help. And they’d brought Barry home, even if they didn’t realize it at first.

It was just his body, though. It wasn’t him. Maybe he was buried down there deep somewhere. But if he was – he was, she assured herself – they didn’t know how to bring him to the surface. The predicament threatened the six long months of sturdy walls she’d built around her in order to keep the team together. She couldn’t fall apart at this venture, and so she left Barry’s bedside to get some breathing room.

She he didn’t go far though because…well, Barry.

Unlike herself, however, Cisco was feeling much more cheerful and proactive about the situation. He strode right past her down the hall, not even glancing in her direction, and entered the room where Barry was currently lying on a bed, presumably sleeping.

“Cisco—” she tried, but her voice was too soft for him to register her.

She followed just to the doorway of the room and waited, watching to see what would happen.

He hovered, then shone a light over Barry’s closed eyes. Iris’s brows furrowed, getting mildly annoyed.

Barry’s eyes must’ve opened because Cisco’s form bounced slightly, his words carrying when he informed the nearly comatose man, “I made you a new suit.”

Iris blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. Cisco shone the light over Barry’s eyes a few more times. She could see Barry squinting even from where she stood on the opposite side of the room.

“Cisco.”

The younger man stopped suddenly and spun around, flashlight aimed directly at her for a second until she squinted as well. She wondered how it could affect her from across the room with the lights on, but Cisco was known for his high-tech gadgets. She wouldn’t be surprised if this particular light could shine into the darkness for miles on a dark night.

“Iris.” His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

Deer caught in the headlights, she thought.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I-I-…well,” he stopped and glared at her. “What are you doing?” He put his hands on his hips, which was somewhat difficult with the flashlight still in one hand.

She raised her eyebrows. “Watching over our patient.”

He tried to fold his arms across his chest but that proved difficult as well.

“Oh, yeah? Then why weren’t you in here?” he demanded.

“I was.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I stepped out a moment before you got in here.”

He eyed her suspiciously until he decided she was probably telling the truth.

“Well, can I have a moment alone with him?”

Iris’s lips parted in a prepared refusal, but then she realized that would probably be unreasonable.

“Please?” he added, and the guilt set in.

She nodded and stepped out of the room, retreating to her spot slightly down the corridor where she was out of sight but not out of hearing distance should some cause for concern suddenly arise.

For maybe five minutes she didn’t hear anything. Some pacing, maybe Cisco sliding a chair over to sit on by Barry’s bedside. But she couldn’t hear either of them speaking and wondered if Cisco was okay. She was on the verge of pushing herself off the wall to check in on them when she heard…

“Want to take it for a spin?”

“Oh, God,” she muttered under her breath and charged into the room. “Cisco, what the hell are you doing?”

He spun around again, eyes and mouth both wide again in apparent shock at her arrival, but there was no flashlight to blind her this time.

“Iris!”

“Cisco.”

“I…I’m…” His eyebrows narrowed again. “I’m trying to reach him.”

Iris folded her arms beneath her breast. “And you’re trying to reach him by…?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m just uh…telling him about his new suit.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and immediately felt intimidated by her offending stare.

“Even if he’s all Flash and not Barry, he has to be excited about that.”

She sighed and looked back at Barry, whose eyes were scanning the ceiling with no apparent direction.

“He’s…he’s not even…” She held out her hand in a gesture and then dropped it to her side.

“What?” he demanded.

“I mean…” She walked across the room, stopping just short of the bed. “Just look at him, Cisco. He’s practically comatose. He doesn’t speak, and when he does speak it’s all a bunch of nonsense.”

“Oh, you mean like that diapers bit?”

“He doesn’t even remember us,” Iris said sadly.

Cisco moved to comfort her, but she suddenly lifted her gaze to his, eyes blazing.

“And you pushing him to answer a question like this, and being so- so-”

“What?” he demanded, annoyed.

“You’re…you’re jumpy and excitable and it’s…it’s more than he can take right now.”

“You don’t know tha—”

“He’s not even shaved yet!” She threw her hands up in the air.

“Fine!” Cisco managed to outdo her in volume. “Then I’ll shave him!”

“You can’t shave him! I’ll do it.”

She moved to leave and presumably gather supplies, but he stepped in front of her suddenly, instantly halting her departure.

“I’m a grown man. I know how to shave. I can shave my best friend’s nasty ass speed force beard!”

Iris’s eyes narrowed, but Cisco’s determined stare never wavered, so finally she nodded.

“Fine. You can shave him.”

“Thank you!” he declared, leaving the room now to gather the supplies.

“Or try to,” she muttered under her breath.

…

It was a little weird, Cisco admitted to himself, slathering up his best friend’s half-covered hairy face with shaving lotion. Especially since the speedster’s eyes alternated every so often between darting around the room and staring numbly up at the ceiling. At one point, Cisco wondered how long it had been since Barry had blinked.

He shook off the agitated, worrisome feeling though, and resumed his duty. He patted the lotion down when he was finished, his brow furrowing when he realized his hands were full of the stuff. It took him a moment to remember the dry washcloth lying on the nearby rolling table.

He could practically feel Iris either glaring or rolling her eyes from the other side of the room. His face burned from the sensation, but he refused to turn around. He didn’t need any more pressure when the expectations were already so high, or at least they felt that way to him.

As soon as he’d finished wiping his hands, he grabbed the conveniently located razor and approached Barry’s bedside again.

And then he floundered.

He searched Barry’s face, looking for an appropriate starting place. There was foaming lotion everywhere beneath his cheek bones, plenty of clear opportunities for where to start. But Cisco second-guessed himself, wondering if one place was better than the other and trying to remember where he started when it was him. And that maybe it should be the opposite of how he did it then. Or if it should be the same. Or if there was some middle-ground.

There was also the worry if he accidently cut him. Or if Barry moved suddenly. Or if in his nerves, patches of hair were left unshaved beneath his chin or along his jawline or down his neck.

Reluctantly and shamefully, he turned to look at Iris helplessly, the razor hanging pathetically at his side.

In her seat by the door, she raised one eyebrow and said nothing.

“It’s different when it’s not yourself…”

“Oh, for God’s sake-”

She strode across the room, hand already outstretched for the shaver, but at the last minute he pulled back.

“No, No, I got this! Let me do it!”

Her temper just barely reigned in, she backed off.

“Fine. Fine. Do it then.”

“I will,” he sassed, nearly sticking out his tongue in retaliation.

Iris rolled her eyes but refused to create more distance or sit back down.

Trying to put her presence out of his mind, Cisco returned to Barry, picked a spot he told himself would be remarkably easy, and in one long piece shaved the hair from his pale skin.

He was too quick about it though, and it nicked Barry’s jaw. The speedster winced as the couple droplets of blood started to seep onto his skin where the cut had been made.

Cisco barely had time to gasp before Iris jumped between them.

“Give it to me,” she demanded. Cisco abandoned resistance and handed it over. “Now go,” she instructed, not even bothering to look at him.

Cisco’s shoulders slumped, feeling dejected.

“Please,” she added as gently as she could manage. It isn’t easy. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

He nodded and eventually found his way to the corridor outside the room.

Not far away, Joe leaned against the wall, perking up slightly when he saw Cisco coming around the bend. Raised eyebrows was all it took for Cisco to explain the recent events without underscoring how he had been unequal to the simple task of shaving his best friend’s face.

Joe chuckled though and nodded.

“I think Iris got her death stare from me,” he said, to which Cisco raised his own eyebrows. “I taught Barry how to shave, but Iris had watched me shaving for years. She’d even shaved me herself a few times when the two of them got into high school, whenever I had a particularly bad case and didn’t want to face the world the next morning. I think she wanted to shave Barry at some point, but he always refused. I think he must’ve worried what she’d think of him if he needed help with something as simple as that.” He shrugged. “But I think she just wanted to.”

“Huh.” Cisco contemplated that.

“Now, I don’t know if she ever shaved him before he…you know, left, but…that might have something to do with it.”

He glanced over at Cisco who looked deep in thought.

“She knows what she’s doing, Cisco.” His expression changed to one of deep amusement. “More than you do, apparently.”

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Joe laughed and pushed himself off the wall, heading down the corridor to where the others were waiting.

“Now wait just a minute,” Cisco tried, but his voice was lost as they grew farther and farther away.

Soon the only sound Iris could hear was her pounding heart and Barry’s steady breathing.

She pressed her finger to the small cut along his jaw, wiping the specks of blood from his skin. It didn’t so much as agitate, since his skin had already healed itself. She smiled softly.

“Must be nice to heal so quickly,” she remarked, cleaning the shaver swiftly before bringing it to his face again.

He appeared to tense beneath where her hand hovered, so she relaxed her arm, lowering the device to her side a bit.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It won’t hurt when I do it.” She ran her fingers lightly through his hair. “I promise.”

He relaxed now too, and she returned to the task at hand. She wondered how much he understood her, the way he reacted to her words and her movements just now. She also wondered if some part of him recognized her. The things he said made no sense. They were all backward and confusing. Not to mention all those symbols he wrote that looked like an ancient language she’d never seen before. The speed force had done something to him. She didn’t want to think about how long it would take to undo that, if it even could be undone.

Don’t think that way, Iris, she thought to herself as she cleaned off the razor again. You brought his body back. Now you just need to bring his mind.

She licked her lips and gently set the razor to his skin again, dragging it down the side with extreme precision.

“You know, these six months have been awful,” she said aloud, deciding that if the Barry she loved couldn’t talk to her, the very least she could do was talk to him. “Not Flash-wise, I mean. Or…Kid Flash or Vibe-wise either. The guys still haven’t decided on a team name.” She attempted to laugh lightly, but it came out strangled. “We’ve been doing all right on that front,” she said softly. “And I…I’ve been keeping it together. Mostly.”

Barry turned his head, presumably to grant her more access to that side of his face. She was surprised, but he still said nothing.

“It’s worse than when you were in a coma,” she admitted, focusing whole-heartedly on shaving his face, not even glancing into eyes that might or might not be looking at her. “At least then I could come visit you. I could talk to you the way I’m talking to you now. You wouldn’t be expected to respond, but you could just…be.” She sighed shakily. “I could touch you.”

She felt fingers wrap around her elbow lightly and her breath hitched.

“Barry.”

She looked into his eyes swiftly and found them staring back at hers with a warmth she hadn’t seen before.

“Barry?” she asked again, abandoning the warning to not hope for too much.

His hand dropped back to his side. His eyes flickered red and then dulled. He turned away, staring at the wall with no particular interest, waiting for her to finish what she had started.

She choked back a sob, rested her hand in her lap until it stopped shaking, and then continued to shave him.

“I got so good at not crying,” she laughed through her tears when the razor his skin again. “Who would’ve thought all it would take was you coming back and not quite being you to change that?”

He didn’t react to her words this time, just stayed still, which she supposed she should be grateful for.

When she’d finished the one side and managed to successfully shave the underside of his chin there, she gently urged him turn his head in her direction, which he did. His eyes stared into hers then. There was no Barry in them, and for the moment no lightning either. It broke her, but it also brought her some relief, because here he was in front of her. She could touch him. She could talk to him. He wasn’t evaporated into the speed force. He was right here in front of her, even if he wasn’t all there.

There was a big part of her that wanted to scream at him for leaving her, for leaving all of them, for not giving them any specific instructions beyond protecting the city and being heroes before he vanished from their lives, presumably forever. But she didn’t want to startle him or cause him to bolt, which was a possibility in the state he was in now.

It was frustrating because that was only one side of what she wanted. The other part of her wanted to hold him and love him and kiss him and beg him to ravish her, because it’d be so long since he felt him touch her and felt him touch her like that.

Just shave him, Iris.

She shook her head, trying reel in her emotions. Then she picked up her chair and moved it to the other side of the bed. His eyes didn’t follow her and his head stayed facing the same direction as before. She needed to get the remainder of his hair shaven and apply the cooling gel she always used. She’d done as much as she could from that particular angle.

“I love you, Barry,” she said on a sigh, letting her hands linger on his skin after she’d rubbed in the gel.

He turned to face her then, a flicker of Barry in his eyes, but she knew not to hope this time. Still, she couldn’t help but lean in close and press a kiss to his unmoving lips. She pulled back to see him the same as he’d been before, and tears filled her eyes.

She backed away from his bedside, swallowing hard, trying not to break down as his gaze followed her in her deliberately normally-paced walk to the doorway.

And just before she left, a beat between the heels she was taking gradually slower steps with, she heard the ragged whisper.

“Thank you.”

She clutched at the wall she was nearing to steady herself and looked back at him, his eyes still on her. She told herself to breathe, to not jump to conclusions, to just accept.

She licked her lips and nodded subtly.

“You’re welcome, Barry” she said, and left the room.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #spoilery fic #4.01 #muse #chapter 9

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adorableears7 · 8 years ago

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Separation Anxiety

I tried to do the formatting @mustardyellowsunshine recommended. Here is my response for prompt 2. These prompts evoke me to keep the storyline set in canon for whatever reason. I also embrace the fact that Inuyasha is descended from a dog youkai, especially with the line “Did you seriously just______?“

Thanks for reading.

Summary: Kagome’s got some studying to do, of course. But, Inuyasha makes it difficult for her, but what are his motivations, really?

“I have a lot of studying to do. So just go back to the Feudal era and wait for me.”

“Why do I gotta go back?” “Inuyasha, school is my top priority!” “I know that! You’ve only told me a million times.” “So, why do I have to keep telling you!” “You don’t! You’ve been spending more time with school–” “You’ll just keep distracting me.” Inuyasha sighed, defeated. His ears and shoulders drooped. He looked crestfallen for only a second as these thoughts raced through his head. His temper bubbled up. He was scowling and opened his mouth with a smack so he could angrily spat: “Fine! You better be ready in the three days you say! I’m not gonna be sittin’ around waitin’!” In a flash he was out the window. On the other side of the well, he sulked and huffed back to the village. His hands were fisted at his side and he practically stomped back. Hadn’t she said she wanted to stay by his side? Sure she had exams coming up, but what else was new, why was she sending him away? “Inuyasha, I thought you were staying with Kagome?” Sango asked, surprised to see him. “She made you come back, didn’t she?” Shippo teased. “Shut up!” He shouted with a growl as he pushed past Sango, Kirara and Shippo. “Wait, Inuyasha!” The young woman called. “What?!” He whipped around and snapped. “Since you’re back, could we train? “Where’s Miroku?” His golden eyes darted around searching. “He went off with Hachi.” “Keh! Let’s do this then.” Combatting with Sango helped pass the time, plus he actually enjoyed it. But, after getting knocked on his ass a few times, he and the demon slayer were getting fed up. “Get your head in the game!” She scolded. “I haven’t even used Hiraikotsu and I want to face Tetsusaiga.” “Good to know you got a strategy.” He grunted as he pushed himself up. He leapt at her, unleashing Tetsusaiga. She blocked his strike, the hidden blade at her wrist ripping out. He knew she had another in her other wrist and she’d try to kick him, so he jumped back. She grabbed Hiraikotsu, just a roll away from her. She swung the heavy weapon and let it fly, climbing onto Kirara to catch it after Inuyasha ducked to avoid it. “You’re predictable!” He criticized. “So are you! You’re thinking to use the Wind Scar now!” She shot back.

“Dammit!” Inuyasha’s voice echoed. As soon as Miroku got back, he went to go mope alone up in a tree.

The next two days were spent hunting, cooking, sleeping, training, and talking with his friends. He even spent some time by Kaede as she worked in her herb garden.

Finally, it was time to get Kagome.

(-)

“Aren’t you ready to go yet?”

“Hear me out,” Kagome began as soon as Inuyasha entered her room. “I have an important assignment due tomorrow, which is Friday.”

“Aw c’mon!” As if the day of the week meant anything to him.

“Now, wait. You can stay here with me while I work.” She offered with a smile. He crossed his arms.

“But, if it’s not this assignment, it’s the next one, Kagome.”

“I just have to get this one done and turn it in.” She said, waving the paper in front of her. “I don’t know why this is bothering you so much!” She gestured wildly, arms out at her sides and the paper flapping with the movement.

“Because it just does, okay? You’re always doing something: training with Kaede, archery practice, school stuff, family and friends here, and hunting down Naraku with us.”

“All of that is important to me!”

“I know, dammit!”

“I manage to do all of it, don’t I?” The wind blew in from the window, causing the paper in her hand to flutter in her hands. Inuyasha had had enough and leapt forward, chomping down on the corner of the paper, tearing off the corner.

“Did you seriously just eat my homework?!” Kagome exclaimed with wide eyes.

Inuyasha sat indignantly with his head turned to the side, nose stuck up in the air, scowl marring his features. He sat in a squat with his arms between his legs, fingers curled mimicking paws.

She started laughing. The musical sound filling his ears and softening his heart. She figured he had no idea about the cliche excuse of ‘my dog ate my homework.’ And didn’t want to make him feel worse, so she just laughed. He’d said in the past not to treat him like a dog, but when he acted like one it was hard not to.

She finally composed herself and walked over to him. He didn’t move away, only flinched when she put a hand on his head and knelt down beside him. She stroked one of his ears. She was a little surprised he let her. “Inuyasha, how can I make it up to you?”

That got his attention and he turned to look the woman he promised to protect in the face. “You said you wanted to stay by my side. Just do that.” He answered, his eyes shifting to look at the floor, a blush crossing his cheek.

“Is that was this was about the whole time?” She asked, realization dawning on her. “If you wanted to spend time with me, why didn’t you just say so?” “Feh! As if I could!”

Kagome sat down beside him on the floor and leaned on his shoulder, “I’m sorry. My attention has been focused elsewhere lately.” She cuddled in closer to him, her side conforming to his. After a minute, he rested his cheek on top of her head.

We got interrupted last time, he thought, taking her hand in his. She looked up at him as he was leaning in.

Their lips finally met. She kissed him back gingerly. His lips glided over hers. His head moved to the side to gain better access. She was too shy to move with him.

His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. He parted her lips with the tip of his tongue, dipping her backward a bit as one hand wound in her hair. His tongue disappeared as quickly as he’d slipped it out, still shy himself, but her taste was also overwhelming his senses. She was letting him touch her, he didn’t want to scare her off.

He broke the kiss and peered into her glistening eyes, planting a brief yet moist peck on her pouty lips. “You better get to work,” he suggested. Her eyes widened and she frowned: speechless.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured as he sat back. She smiled and looked down, cheeks visibly blushing. “Well, I have to rewrite this page even if you hadn’t bitten it,” she waved it side to side beside him. The paper was wrinkled, she’d crumpled it during the kiss. “I’ll just get my book and come back next to you to do my work.”

He sat quietly watching her. Her cheeks flushing now and then cuz he was staring at her. They bickered about that, but he’d told her if she focused on her task then she wouldn’t notice. She’d handed him some photo albums for him to look through to keep him occupied.

She got her assignment done, but not much other studying. She could hardly concentrate with him breathing down her neck, literally. She decided to take a break, leaning back against him. He nuzzled her neck with his nose.

“Your nose is damp!” She giggled. “Keh!” He turned away, embarrassed. She grabbed him by the forelocks gently to pull him back down to her, rising to her knees to rub her nose on his. She ran her fingers through his hair as she did so. “Let’s go to bed.” She murmured. “Wh-what, Kagome?”

Kagome flicked off the light, the moonlight illuminating her room. She took him by the hand. “Just lay with me and hold me.” She whispered. He sat beside her on the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked, turning to look at her. “I said I’d make it up to you. Besides, I have to get up early for school, then we can get back to the others and continue our quest.” “Yeah.” He nodded in agreement.

He stayed awake, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful and content in his arms. That’s how he wanted her to always be.

And later, after they were separated for three years and she’d returned; all that time apart and unsure if she’d ever return. He’d played over and over in his head a thousand times what he would do when she got back.

But, then everyone excited she was back. He couldn’t hardly get alone time with her, but he couldn’t even be mad.

Once they were alone, they’d picked up right where they’d left off. He didn’t want to spend another moment apart from her. Ever. That’s how they’d ended up married.

She lay in his arms every night. Even when he and Miroku had to go away from a village, they’d make up for the time they were apart.

Then, when they had kids and he had to compete for her attention, she’d always make it up to him. It taught him patience, sorta.

Looking at his sleeping family now, even having to leave their side for a few days to go make a living to make sure they were taken care of, yeah, it was all worth it.

-0-0-0-0-The End-0-0-0- @hireikotsu and I had a fun conversation fangirling over Inuyasha’s wet nose. I had to include that detail here. Lol

#inuyasha #fanfiction #prompt 2 #safe for work lol #my fanfics #michi4

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pedroscurls · 8 years ago

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Title: My Not-So Little Girl

Character(s): Negan and Casey (daughter) Prompt: Driving Lesson Summary: Negan gives his daughter, Casey, advice on how to drive and it gets out of hand. Word Count: 3,612 Warning: This is also a bit AU -- especially since Negan doesn’t have any children. Author’s Note: Thank you to @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash for doing this writing challenge! It was very much out of my comfort zone (especially with the prompt I chose lol), but I enjoyed writing it nonetheless! Besides, I love a domestic Negan. I also got a bit distracted with this prompt and wrote more than I planned and also took a different route than I expected. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy! :)

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(GIF Source: @kendaspntwd)

PRE-APOCALYPSE

“Dad, I finished the hours I needed with my driving instructor. Can you please bring me out for a drive? I can show you how ready I am for the test!” Casey begged, sitting at the table with her father. He was looking over a few sheets of paper before he removed his glasses, setting it down onto the stack.

“I’m not saying that you aren’t ready, Casey, but I’m busy right now, okay?”

“That’s what you fucking said last time,” she mumbled.

“Hey! Watch your mouth. We talked about this shit already.”

“Says the one who curses every chance he gets. Fine, dad. Whatever,” Casey said, standing from her seat. She ascended the stairs, walking down the hall into her room and slamming the door shut behind her.

Lucille giggled from the kitchen, stirring the sauce she was making for their weekly dinner of spaghetti.

Negan narrowed his eyes, standing from the table to walk over to her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed along her neck.

“What’s so fucking funny?” He mumbled, his hands tightly wrapped around her frame.

“You’re getting angry at our daughter for using that type of language, yet here you are… Doing the same exact thing.”

“I can’t fucking help it. It’s in my genetic code. I came out of the womb crying out a string of curse words,” Negan joked.

Lucille laughed, turning around to face him. Her hand rested on his stubbly cheek, brushing against his cheekbone lightly. Negan smiled to himself, staring into her eyes.

“You’re funny and I wouldn’t be surprised if that is actually true.”

“Ha ha.”

“Listen, why don’t you take her out? She’ll just pout and glare at you all throughout dinner, Negan. Let her drive around the neighborhood, maybe to the main streets. In fact, let her drive you to the grocery store. We need more milk,” Lucille said.

Negan narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t want to though…”

“And why not, Negan? You know you’re the only one whose opinion matters to her. Casey looks up to you,” she dropped her hand to his chest, running her thumb along the fabric of his white t-shirt.

“Fine. Fucking fine,” he huffed, pulling away. “I expect dinner to be ready when we come back.”

“Don’t go bossing me around. Go and apologize to our daughter and take her out for a drive,” she quipped.

Negan smirked, “I always loved to see the fucking fire in your eyes.”

He ascended the stairs and with the help of his long legs, he was at the second floor with just a few steps. He walked to Casey’s door and sighed, quietly knocking on the door.

“Casey, honey? Let’s go for that drive. Show me what the fuck you got,” he smiled.

“Go away,” she mumbled.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. I’m opening the door, okay? So, don’t go throwing fucking shit at me or I will be forced to retaliate with tickles and kisses and I know how much you teenage girls hate being babied,” he teased.

Slowly, Negan opened the door and noticed her lying on her bed with her back facing him. He sighed and walked to the sit at the edge of her bed, running his hand along her back soothingly.

“Are you going to talk to me?” Negan asked.

“No. Go away.”

“Kiddo, come on. I’m sorry, okay? Let’s go. We’ve also got to get some milk, so I was thinking you can fucking show off your driving skills and bring us to the grocery store.”

Casey turned to face him, biting her lower lip. She looked like an exact replica of Negan.

Her hair was dark, and so were her eyes. Casey also had dimples like her father and he already had to shoo away some potential boy threats that had come by to ask for Casey.

Deep down, the reason why he didn’t want to take her was because he knew she was growing up and he wasn’t ready to admit it to himself. When he looked at her, he saw his little girl who was running around the house causing a ruckus.

Now, she was a teenager who was about to get her license. It was surreal. Did sixteen years really pass by that quickly?

“Are you being serious?” She asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yes, I’m being fucking serious. Now, if you don’t hurry up and meet me downstairs in five minutes, I’m going to leave without you.”

Before Negan could leave, Casey wrapped her arms around him tightly and kissed his cheek with a big grin that displayed her dimples.

“Thank you, daddy! I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”

Negan’s eyes softened and he looked down at her, kissing her forehead.

“Oh, sweetheart, you can never disappoint me. Now, hurry up.”

Casey grinned, laughing quietly and walking to her closet to grab a sweater and her sneakers. Negan left her room, pulling his leather jacket on before he smelled the aroma of Lucille’s cooking waft throughout their home.

He walked to the kitchen and smiled to himself. “It smells fucking delicious in here.”

“Did you manage to apologize?” She asked.

“As a matter of fact, I did. We’re heading to the store in five minutes.”

Lucille smiled, walking over to him to peck his lips.

“Get some ice cream too,” she said.

“You got it, doll. We’ll be back soon.” Negan smiled, seeing his daughter walk into the kitchen to grab a piece of garlic bread that her mother had made.

“Ah ah! Not before dinner, Casey,” Lucille said.

Casey widened her eyes, swallowing the small piece of bread. “Sorry! It looked really good, mom.”

“Let’s go get the milk before your mother throws a fucking fit,” Negan teased, kissing Lucille’s cheek.

Casey giggled, hugging her mother and walking out of the house to the car that was parked in the driveway. Negan followed, shutting the door and locking it behind him. He tossed the keys at Casey and watched her catch it without a problem.

Negan climbed into the passenger seat and watched his little girl climb into the driver’s side. He noticed her adjusting her seat before she finally felt comfortable. She started the car and smiled to herself, buckling her seatbelt. She glanced over at Negan and arched a brow.

“What?” He asked.

“Your seatbelt, dad.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. See, you’re already doing fucking great, pumpkin.”

Casey smiled. She waited until Negan was securely fastened to the seat before she put the car in reverse and checked over her shoulders and both side mirrors to make sure she was clear. Slowly, she released the brake and backed away from the driveway and onto the main road.

Negan watched her carefully, making sure she was checking her mirrors and abiding by the speed limit.

They made it to the grocery store in ten minutes. Her parking needed some work, but she was “still in the lines” like she said.

“So, pick out two tubs of ice cream and then meet me at the aisle with the milk.” Negan said, kissing the back of her head and walking down the aisle to where the milk was placed.

Casey bit her lower lip, looking through the different flavors before she heard someone call her name. It was a friend from school.

“Hey, Casey,” he smiled.

“Oh, hey, Derek,” she smiled shyly.

“You need help with figuring out some flavors?”

“Yes. I’m always in such a stump when my dad tells me to pick two. I mean, how can you just pick two?” Casey giggled. She even had Negan’s charm.

“Right? You either go big or go home,” Derek teased.

“You still haven’t helped me decide on two flavors,” Casey said with a sweet smile.

“Sorry. I’m distracted. You’ve got a really pretty smile,” he blushed.

“Well, you’ve got pretty eyes.”

Negan turned around and began walking to the frozen section, seeing his daughter talking to some boy. He felt anger fuel bubbling within him before he called her name, “Casey!”

She flinched, glancing over her shoulder to see the look of anger in his eyes.

“That’s my dad. You better get going, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow at school…”

Derek cleared his throat, nodding before he began walking away from Casey.

Negan looked down at her, watching the boy practically run away. He opened the fridge and grabbed the usual flavors that they always bought before leading her to the front to pay for their items.

“That wasn’t fair, dad…” Casey said, crossing her arms over her shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care if it wasn’t. You’re my little girl,” he said, sliding his card through the machine. He nodded his thanks to the cashier before grabbing their bags and leading Casey out of the store.

“I’m not a little girl anymore, dad! I’m sixteen now!”

“Casey, let’s not fucking talk about this right now, okay?”

She sighed, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car. Casey waited for him to load the groceries into the car before he, too, climbed in and buckled his seatbelt.

Casey made sure she was clear before backing out of the parking spot.

Throughout the ride back home, Casey felt the tension between herself and her father. They had the same temper and that almost always meant it was a bad thing.

“You’re going over the speed limit. Slow the fuck down,” Negan said, glancing over at her.

“I’m going forty-five in a fifty mile per hour area, dad!”

“I don’t care! You’re going too fast.”

Casey sighed, slowing down to his liking. She dropped her hand to her lap, keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

“Both hands on the fucking wheel, Casey.”

“Dad…”

“You wanted a few pointers, right? Well, I’m fucking giving you advice.”

Casey sighed, deciding to bite her tongue. She didn’t want to anger him right now. When at home, she would make sure to piss him off.

“Always look over your shoulders,” he said.

“I am!”

Negan shook his head, watching the light turn yellow and Casey came to an abrupt halt which caused him to jerk forward.

“You need to fucking brake more smoothly than that. If you drive the way you’re driving now, you’re never going to get your damn license.”

Casey glanced over at him, tears brimming her eyes. She remained quiet throughout the remainder of the ride back home. Parking in the driveway, she climbed out and slammed the door shut.

“Hey, don’t go slamming doors because I’m telling you the fucking truth.”

“You aren’t! You’re just angry! You’re just pissed off because some guy was talking to me!”

Negan followed her inside their home, slamming the door shut and placing the milk and ice cream into the fridge. He watched Casey walk away before he called her name.

“Casey Mae, you get back down here right fucking now!”

“I hate you!” She yelled, slamming her door shut loudly and blasting the music loudly through her tiny room. Casey locked the door and climbed into her bed, crying into her pillow.

Lucille sighed, looking at Negan. She gently removed his leather jacket and ran a hand up his chest.

“What happened?”

“I caught her talking to a boy at the grocery store and I lost my shit. I said something I didn’t mean…” Negan admitted.

“What did you say?”

“I said if she drove like the way she was doing then she would never get her license…”

“Negan…” Lucille sighed.

“I know. I fucking know, okay? She’s a good driver, Lucille. But fuck, does she have to grow up?”

“Is that what this is about? Was that why you’ve been avoiding this?” She asked.

He nodded slowly.

“You’re a good father, you know? Don’t forget that, but Negan… You’ve got to let our little girl grow up.”

“I’m not fucking ready to let her grow up, Lucille…”

“Well believe it or not, Negan, it’s going to happen either way. So, please… Just talk to her before dinner. I don’t want her glaring at you while we’re eating.”

“She won’t want to talk to me,” he said.

“You can convince her. Deep down, she’s a daddy’s girl. She’s got a soft spot for you.”

“Okay, fine. And when we’re done eating, leave the dishes. You go fucking relax and I’ll take care of it,” Negan said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Negan knocked on her door, turning the handle to find it locked. He sighed and knocked once more.

“Casey, princess, open the door, please.”

“Go away!” She yelled.

“I will open this fucking door regardless. I’m letting you be the mature one here and open it for me,” he replied.

Casey sighed heavily, standing from her bed to unlock the door. She opened it and walked back to her bed.

“Case…”

“What? You’re sorry? Yeah. Let me guess. Mom convinced you that you were in the wrong and now you’re here to fix it.”

“Damn it, Casey. You’re my little girl. I don’t fucking want you growing up!” He yelled, causing her to flinch from the abrupt loudness.

“Dad…”

“And I’m sorry. I crossed a fucking line. You’re a great driver, Casey. I just – You’re my little munchkin. In two years, you’ll be leaving your mother and I to go to fucking college then you’ll come back for Christmas with a boyfriend and then before you know it, you’re going to fucking tell me you’re going to get married and you’re pregnant and –”

“Whoa, dad. Hold on…” Casey said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you, you know that, right? Besides, I don’t think I can leave you and mom. There are plenty of good colleges here. As for getting married and pregnant, well, that I can’t say for sure,” she teased.

Negan narrowed her eyes. Casey giggled.

“I’m kidding, dad. You’re jumping the gun just a bit. We still have to get through my driver’s test.”

“I just – Seeing that boy talk to you and to see his eyes look you over like you were some sort of fucking piece of meat… I got mad and I’m sorry,” he said, kissing the crown of her head.

Casey nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“I didn’t mean what I said… I don’t hate you, dad. I love you.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. Now, let’s go and get some fucking food.”

POST-APOCALYPSE

It had been a year and a half since the outbreak. Negan was running the Sanctuary smoothly; he created a system that worked and it gave him hope that he could restore the world after it ended.

He had lost Lucille due to her battle of cancer, but Negan was glad to still have his little girl with him. He had to spend every night with her because of the nightmares that plagued the both of their minds.

Negan couldn’t imagine growing up in a world like this. Casey hadn’t even hit eighteen yet and all her plans for going to college and getting a good job was thrown out the window and she was stripped of countless opportunities.

Now, her main priority was to stay alive and to make sure her father was safe too.

While out on a run, Negan had gotten shot by a stranger that tried to take their findings. Casey quickly “shut that shit down” (as he said it) and used Lucille to bash the man’s brain in.

He always had to have a long talk with her whenever she had to kill someone. She was a strong young girl. She didn’t even bat an eye at the killing. It was as if Casey grown accustomed to this new world.

“Dad… Dad, are you okay?!” She asked, bringing him to the truck.

Negan climbed in the passenger seat and watched her climb into the driver’s side. She placed Lucille on the dashboard and started the truck, buckling her seatbelt.

It seemed too familiar. It reminded him of the day where Lucille asked for milk and ice cream and Casey wanted to show off her driving skills. It brought tears to his eyes at the thought of his wife and the old world.

He missed it so much.

He missed her so much, despite what he put her through.

“I’m okay, buttercup. I got shot in the shoulder. I’ll be okay,” Negan said.

“Okay, well then, um, can you put your seatbelt on? I can’t go anywhere unless I know you’re buckled in.”

“We’re in the fucking apocalypse, killing the dead, and you’re worried about me not wearing my seatbelt?”

Casey narrowed her eyes, “Do you want to be in pain or do you want me to bring us back to the Sanctuary so Dr. Carson can patch you up, dad?”

“You are so fucking like me that it’s a bit scary,” he chuckled. Negan put his seatbelt on with a grunt and felt the truck begin to move.

Casey smiled to herself. It reminded her of the day when Negan finally agreed to take a drive with her.

“Why the fuck are you smiling?” Negan asked.

“Just remembering when you first experienced my driving, dad.”

“Well, no rules apply here, so press on that fucking gas and bring us home, kiddo.”

Casey smiled, reaching over to rest a hand on his own.

“Love you, dad.”

“I love you too, pumpkin.”

Later that night, Negan looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. Being the leader of a big community had its perks, but it also had its downfalls. Though, he tried not to think of the bad things about being in charge.

Negan adjusted the sling on his opposite shoulder, walking out of his room and down the hall to Casey’s. When he opened the door, he noticed her staring up at the ceiling.

“Dad?” She called out.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered.

“You didn’t wake me up. Did Dr. Carson take care of your gunshot?”

Negan nodded, lifting the sling slightly to reveal to her that he was all patched up.

“Can you lie with me until I fall asleep, dad?”

“Of course, honey. Scooch your pooch and give your dad some room.”

Casey laughed quietly, scooting over to give him some room. He removed his sling and set it aside before Casey rested her head against his good shoulder.

Negan’s arm wrapped around her tightly, shutting his eyes.

Moments like this – where he was holding her until she fell asleep – reminded him of when she was little. Casey would curl up on his lap and Negan’s strong arms would remind her that she was safe from all the bad dreams. Being in her father’s arms made her feel safe.

“Dad?” She whispered.

“Hm?”

“Do you still think about the old world?”

Negan sighed, “I do, yes. I think about our old home, the hammock in our backyard. I think about my ping-pong table. I think about the lost photo albums we had. I think about a lot of things, honey.”

“You know, I’m still sorry for what I said that day, dad. I couldn’t believe I said I hated you…” Casey replied, burying her face against him.

“I know you’re sorry, Casey. Sometimes we say things when we’re fucking angry. It happens. You get that shit from me.”

“And many other things apparently,” she added.

Negan chuckled. His mind drifted to Lucille and he sighed, tears leaking at the corner of his eyes.

“I also think about your mother…”

“Mom told me, you know… How you cheated on her and she was angry that you chose her when she was sick, when she was d – dying… I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t. You always had a reason for doing things…” Casey admitted.

“There’s not a day that goes by that I wish I never did the shit that I did to your mother, to you. If I hadn’t let my temptation –”

“Dad, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that mom died…” She whispered, her voice cracking.

Negan looked down at her, wiping his eyes absently before he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“I see more of her in you than I ever did before, Casey. I wish she could see how much you’ve grown into a mature, beautiful young lady. And here I was, fucking afraid to see you grow up,” he smiled sadly.

“I wish she was here to see what you’ve created, dad. She would have been so proud of the both of us.”

Negan caught a fallen tear and wiped it away, kissing his daughter’s cheek.

“Enough of this crying, let’s get some sleep,” he said, sniffling quietly.

“Wait, before I forget… Can you teach me how to shoot a gun tomorrow, dad?”

“If it ends the way it did when I took you out for driving, then no.”

“Hey… That was your fault. You got angry for no reason,” Casey quipped.

“Okay, fuck. You make a good fucking point. I’ll teach you how to shoot a gun tomorrow.”

Casey grinned and kissed his cheek. Afterwards, she settled back against his side and shut her eyes.

Negan caught sight of his wedding ring and Lucille’s in a chain around her neck. He smiled, kissing the crown of her head.

“I love you, Casey…”

“I love you too, daddy. Thanks for still being here,” she whispered, her voice beginning to fade.

“I’m so proud of you… My not-so little girl,” he smiled.

Casey giggled sleepily, her cheek resting against his chest.

“Good night, dad.”

“Good night, honey.”

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