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kiwixlime · 3 years ago

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Gluttony

Part Five of the Seven Deadly Sins Series

He who is not contented with what he has, would not be contented with what he would like to have.

Warnings: We gettin' smutty up in here. And it's a long chapter. I sort of went overboard lol.

Notes: Time to get spicy again. I love writing this so much. I’ve had this idea for a while, but I couldn’t decide which character to write it for, but Sam seems so fitting.

“Holy shit,” Sam says as the elevator doors ping open, allowing you to step out into the lavish hotel lobby. Your stiletto heels clack against the marble flooring as you approach the two men with their jaws dropped. Sam and Andre have been waiting for at least thirty minutes for you to finish getting ready, and for Sam, it was definitely worth the wait.

You look enchanting in your maxi dress, a sparkling black material with a halter neck and a high slit on the right side. Your hair is pulled back in soft, side-swept curls, and your eye makeup consists of neutral, cool-toned shades. But it’s your lips that Sam keeps his focus on. You’ve chosen a daring red lip, the ideal blue-red shade for everyone looking for that perfect red. And Sam is drawn to the vivid color like a moth to a flame. He wants to kiss you, smear that lipstick across your lips, and his, as you lose yourself to his sloppy kiss. He wants to see the impressions on his neck, chest, and…

“I’m guessing you like it?” You giggle once you finally reach them. Sam’s dirty thoughts are put on pause as he registers your words, letting his brain catch up to his mouth.

“Sex,” is all Sam can blurt out. You tilt your head, an amused smirk stretching across your red lips that makes Sam melt. “I mean. Sexy, hot,” he chokes out awkwardly. “Nice.”

“Ever the wordsmith, Samuel,” you tease. Your eyes then flick to Andre, who is also, very obviously, checking you out. But he’s more discreet about it, admiring you with his eyes, but being respectful enough not to bumble on words like Sam.

“My dear,” Andre smiles, taking your soft hand in his. He brings it up for a kiss, careful of the rings adorning your fingers. “You’re the most beautiful person in the room,” he compliments. Sam nods his head eagerly in agreement.

“Thank you, Andre,” you curtsy, making him laugh. “I hope I make a suitable date for you.”

“The best,” he confesses with a shy blush. He looks over to Sam standing next to him, the older man still in a daze, mouth hanging open as he gapes at you. Andre gives him a little nudge, and Sam breaks out of his horny haze, looking away flustered.

You smile affectionately at him, caressing his cheek with your hand. Your red, glossy nails drag through the stubble on his chin, using pressure to turn his head to face you. His lips form into a slight pout and you lean in, ready to kiss him until he turns away from you. He subtly glances towards Andre and you get the hint, planting your lips on his cheek instead.

A pink flush sprouts across his face. He brings his fingers up to his still tingling cheek, gently tapping the hint of a mark he knows is there. “Damn, girl,” he chuckles. “I feel like a clumsy teenager.”

You roll your eyes, shoving Sam playfully on the shoulder. You then turn to Andre and kiss his cheek, too. After your night in Egypt, when Andre left and went to his room, Sam filled you in on everything from Andre’s feelings towards you to his feelings towards you. And while he’s thrilled that you’re not into Andre, he still feels a little guilty. He’s treated you like shit in the past, and yet you still chose him. He can’t rub Andre’s face in it.

“Shall we go?” Andre asks now that you’re all dolled up and ready to go. He looks at Sam, using his eyes to ask if he’s ready. Sam nods, and you three make your way to the exit of the hotel.

Tonight, you’re crashing a party at some fancy estate in the Balearic Islands. Well, you’re not exactly crashing as you’re posing as Andre’s date. He has a close relationship with one of the organizers of the event, so he was able to score two places for himself and a guest. Unfortunately, that meant Sam would have to be the crasher. Not that he minded…

Sam opens the limousine door for you, and you smile at him before sliding in, followed by Andre and then Sam as he closes the door. He looks nervous, and all you want to do is kiss him and assure him that everything will be fine. But you’re respecting the boundaries you’ve settled on for the night. So instead, you offer some words of encouragement.

“You've got this, Sam,” you tell him with confidence. “It will be an easy breaking and entering. Don't lose focus.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, rubbing the palms of his hands against his muddied jeans. “You have my tux on standby?” He asks.

“I do,” you assure him. “You’ll look handsome once we get you cleaned up.”

“Yeah, entering through a sewer is not ideal for me, but what else can I do?” He chuckles. “There’s a place for me to get cleaned up, yeah?” He turns his attention to Andre.

“Yes, the room you two will meet up in has an en suite bathroom. It’ll be far away enough from the happenings downstairs, no one will even know you guys are up there. Security is for shit.” Andre’s words are comforting, and Sam seems to settle down. But then he looks at you, eyes dropping to the slit in your dress, revealing your smooth skin, and his heart rate starts to pick up again.

You send him a wink to watch him squirm, and he does just that, huffing and settling back into the seat. The rest of the drive consists of light chatter, mostly going over your plan one more time. You’ll enter through the front with Andre. After making your introductions and grabbing a drink, you’ll split off from him and bypass the security upstairs, which will be easy to do. You're certain you can get any favors in that dress.

Sam taught you the art of pickpocketing, and you’ve become quite the master at it. You're confident you can secure the key from the guard, and afterward, you’ll head up the elevator and let Sam in through the window in one of the spare rooms. The only downfall is that in order for Sam to gain access beyond the gates, he has to travel through the underground sewer system until he reaches the main house. Gross, but effective. And the only option.

It doesn’t take long to reach the estate. Andre instructs the driver to stop a few blocks away so Sam can get into position. You get out briefly to kiss him and whisper a few more supportive words you know he needs. Your quick pep talk puts the energy back into his step. Then he’s off into the hills behind the property.

Your eyes scope out the striking view. You can see from where you are that there are at least two Mediterranean Style villas on an elevated slope with stunning sea views, a Mediterranean garden, and two infinity pools. You’re absolutely stunned and a little terrified.

A short drive later, you and Andre arrive at the main gate. He takes your hand, getting into character, his briefcase containing Sam's tux in his other hand. Once you reach the front door staff and show your invitation, you’re whisked into one of the most elegant places you’ve ever seen. For a hot second, you feel out of place. But then Andre tugs you further into the building, and you relax.

It feels inappropriate to ogle, but you do. The marble staircase catches your eye immediately, and you never felt so inspired by stairs before. But they’re so elegant and pristine as if they’ve never been used. Andre pulls you away from the glamorous staircase and gives you the grand tour. You’ve seen fitted kitchens, the jacuzzi, three infinity pools, a guest house, a garage that could probably fit eight cars, and that’s just the first floor. Who needs this much luxury, honestly?

The walls are a soft cream color accented by stone, and every piece of furniture, every decoration, looks regal, fragile. You’re afraid to move or sit. Suddenly, you’re terrified of leaving Andre.

“Relax,” he whispers, keeping his hand at an appropriate height on your lower back. “It’ll be fine. Let’s head to the bar, get a drink, and meet some friends.”

“Friends? Oh, no, no,” you shake your head. “How can you be friends with these people? I’m afraid that if I look at someone, I’ll turn to stone!”

Andre chuckles and guides you through the crowd, hand still on your back so you don’t freak out. You eventually reach the bar, which you can’t even explain. Okay, you’ll try. It’s illuminated glass with crystal bar stools. Enough said.

Andre orders your drinks, whiskey for him, and a diamond martini for you. Yes, a diamond martini. A martini with a literal diamond in it. It’s excessive, and a little sickening, and you want it all.

Oh, you’ll never be the same after this.

“Okay, making their way towards us right now are Salma and Joseph. I know them from my time excavating here.” Andre smiles as the couple approaches you, and you stiffen. They look like royalty. You feel so small under their gaze, but you have to keep up your act. So you swallow your fears and introduce yourself.

After about twenty minutes, you’re able to sneak away from Andre’s seemingly endless friend group and go find Sam. Getting around security is no issue. You use your charms, telling them that you’re an interior decorator looking for inspiration. It’s a stupid lie, but your smile and a little leg pop turn their brains to mush, so they let you past.

You opt for using the marble staircase, just because, and head up to the second floor. It’s so quiet that your heels echo against the floor, making you feel fancy and important. You count the rooms, remembering the map Andre showed you. The third room on the left is where you’ll meet Sam. You head in, locking the door behind you and reaching into the briefcase Andre gave you. You pull out Sam’s neatly folded suit and set it on the bed.

Outside, you can hear some grunting and the sound of rocks falling. You quickly run over to the balcony just in time to see Sam pull his way up over the railing. You gasp and grab him, tugging on his back to help him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans as he topples to the balcony floor. “Oh, hey dollface,” he says with a grin as he looks up at you. “It appears I’ve fallen for you.”

“Dork,” you scoff and help him to his feet. You keep him at arm's length because even though you love him, he smells like a sewer. “Ew, please get in the shower and wash up. You’re making my nose burn.”

“Wow,” he mutters, faking offense. “And here I thought you loved me for who I am.”

You giggle and push him towards the washroom, poking your tongue out at him when he peeks over his shoulder. He raises his hands in surrender and strips off his clothes before he even shuts the door, giving you a nice view of his muscled back and his ass. God, even when he’s filthy he’s attractive, and you want to pin him down and ride him until he’s moaning your name.

“Oh, no,” you whisper to yourself, shaking off those thoughts. “Not now,” you mumble, looking down at your body as if reprimanding it for reacting to Sam that way. “Little bitch.”

You sit down at the vanity in the room, checking yourself out as you wait for Sam to finish showering. As you look at your reflection, you have to admit that you look gorgeous. It’s a nice confidence booster. You keep checking yourself out, freshening up when you hear the shower stop. A few seconds later, Sam opens the door, and you nearly choke on your tongue.

Standing before you, Sam’s naked body glistens with tiny water droplets, gliding down his chest, to his abdomen, around the tiny bullet holes. His drenched hair falls in front of his face, and you have to resist the urge to tug on it. You swallow thickly, eye fucking the man before you, ready to spread your legs the moment he asks.

“Forgot my tux,” he winks at you and grabs the plastic bag that’s on the bed.

You blink your eyes a few times before meeting his gaze. “No towels?”

“Thought I’d air dry,” he retorts. “And I knew you’d appreciate the view.”

“Sam,” you mewl, and his cock twitches at your pouty red lips. “Not fair.”

He chuckles and heads back towards the bathroom, your eyes glued to his ass as he goes. You sigh and wait for him to finish up so you can get this show on the road. The sooner you find what you’re looking for, the sooner you can take Sam back to the hotel and fuck him until you’re sore.

“Ready baby,” Sam reappears, this time fully clothed, much to your dismay. But you have to admit, he’s hot as fuck in a tux. God, he’s hot in anything. Your fingers twitch, aching to reach out and touch him. “So, what are we looking for exactly?” He asks, taking your hand and helping you up from the chair.

You shrug as you walk out of the room, Sam’s hand in yours. “I’m not sure. Andre said that in the basement, there’s a chest hidden somewhere. It’s locked but should be easy to pick. He says there are a lot of antiques there.”

“Anything useful?” Sam asks. You head towards the marble stairs and drop his hand, already missing the warmth. But you have to keep up appearances. You are Andre’s date.

“Andre said there should be a lot from auctions, a lot from excavations, and some heirlooms. It sounded promising,” you admit.

Sam doesn’t say anything, but he nods in understanding. You both make it back to the first floor, to the ballroom, easily unseen, and head to Andre’s group. He greets both of you with a smile, introducing you to a new crop of people.

Bored, you zone out, still in awe of the sumptuous surroundings. You can’t imagine having a life like this. Three separate houses with three pools perched atop a private hill with ocean views? Unbelievable.

“I’m fucking hungry,” Sam whispers in your ear, catching your attention. Your mind shifts from rich people to food, and your stomach grumbles. Suddenly, hunger hits you as well.

You punch Sam on the arm. “Damn it!” You scold.

“Ow, why?” He whines, rubbing the spot where you hit him.

“You mentioned food,” you huff. “I haven’t eaten since this morning. Before I got ready. I’m starving.”

“Look,” he nods behind you and grabs your shoulders, turning you around. “Hors d’oeuvres.”

You groan at the sight of golden platters making their way through the ballroom. Your hand drops to your stomach, hearing it grumble again. “We’re guests. We should eat,” you say.

“Is that baked brie?” Sam answers, already lost in the smells.

“Lobster sliders?” You say though it comes out as a high-pitched question.

“Babe,” Sam whispers, tapping your shoulder forcefully. “Stuffed mushrooms.”

“Meatballs!” You exclaim a little louder than you intended. “Sam, meatballs.”

He laughs and turns back around, tapping Andre on the shoulder. “Do you mind if we grab some?” He asks, pointing towards the servers making their rounds.

“Of course not, go on,” Andre chuckles. He leans in closer. “Make sure you find the dessert tray. They usually have mini cannoli cups and mini lemon meringue pies. Delicious.”

You and Sam both let out a ravenous groan. “Fuck, let’s go,” you mumble and grab Sam by the arm. He stumbles but follows you as stalk the servers. You split up, Sam heads left, and you head right. When you meet up, your hands are full of mini meatballs, cannoli cups, and spinach puffs. Sam found the stuffed mushrooms along with mini crab cakes, spring rolls, and steak lettuce cups.

“Let’s find a place to eat,” Sam says, and you smile, ready to devour everything. You move out of the ballroom to a quieter hallway. Only a few of the fancy attendees linger, so you don’t feel guilty for stuffing your faces.

You don’t even have the decency to be a polite lady, inhaling some of the mini meatballs before you and Sam even find a place to sit. He’s not proper, either, shoving lettuce cups in his mouth while he talks. You both laugh at each other, finding humor in your situation.

“Someone’s a glutton,” you giggle, wiping off some feta that fell onto the corner of his mouth. He smiles, and you bite your lip as he pokes his tongue out and laps at your thumb, softly sucking the flesh.

“For many things,” he groans as he pulls back, slipping your thumb out of his mouth. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

You swallow the bite of food in your mouth and glance down at your plate. You still have a good bit left, but the way Sam is staring at you makes you hungry for something else. “Let’s finish these and then go down to the basement,” you say. “Find the thing…”

“Yes,” Sam nods, finishing the stuffed mushrooms.

“Okay,” you smile and pop a crab cake into your mouth. You sit in silence while you eat, savoring the flavor of each tiny morsel that falls on your tongue. The food, of course, is delicious. And you wish you had actual meals, but these little snippets are good enough for now.

Once you finish, you find a place to leave your plates and follow the map Andre drew you. Basement access is easy, and no one is even paying attention. So you and Sam slink through the corridor and down the stairs.

Like the rest of the quarters, the basement is spacious, a little dusty, but nothing too bad. Sam whips out his lighter to help you both move around to find a better light source. “Over there,” you whisper, pointing to a set of switches along the wall. Sam leaves your side, plunging you into darkness for a second. It’s creepy, you know basement and darkness, but then you hear a click.

“Let there be light,” Sam says as the overhead bulbs flicker on.

You roll your eyes and take in your surroundings. You’re looking for a chest, which seems impossible considering the insane amount of clutter in this room. The map Andre gave you doesn’t include the basement layout, so you and Sam are going to have to pick the place apart.

“This is going to take forever,” you grumble in annoyance.

“Lotta boxes,” Sam comments, kneeling down and pulling out a dusty box. He flips off the lid, coughing as he fumbles through loose sheets of paper. Nothing of interest.

“Guess we should split up? Might make it easier?” You ask, not thrilled with the idea.

Sam nods. “Yeah, yeah. Sure,” he says, but before you move, he grabs you by the waist. “Let’s have a little fun first.”

A gasp reverberates in your throat as his strong arms pull you in. You melt into his hold, letting your head fall back as he kisses your neck, sliding the fabric of your dress to give him better access. His arms wrap around you, drawing you into his chest. The bulge in his pants presses against you, and you moan.

One of his hands drifts from your waist, down your thigh, and underneath the racy slit of your dress. He breathes into your hair as his fingers travel inwards, dipping a finger into your panties, sensually gliding against your clit. “Sam,” you gasp as he teases you, sliding another finger between your folds.

“Yes, dollface?” He asks, rubbing you harder, faster. You spread your legs as much as you can to give him everything he needs.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe, rotating your hips to beg for more.

Smirking into your neck, Sam kisses your exposed skin and removes his hand from your underwear. He pulls back, licking his fingers, moaning at your taste. “Sweet girl,” he admires.

“You stopped,” you frown and turn in his hold, looking up at him with such angelic features he can’t help but moan. He kisses your lips quickly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth.

“Take off your panties,” he orders in a deep, gravelly voice, and you waste no time shimmying out of your satin underwear. Sam grabs you by the hips as you step out of them and guides you to one of the abandoned tables. He picks you up and places you down, knocking your legs open. He settles between them and kisses you.

It’s hot and sloppy, and you know that by now your lipstick has started to smear. But you don’t care. You’ll touch it up. Sam’s kisses are desperate, and the way he holds your head close makes you feel desired.

Sam moves to your shoulder, biting and sucking, marking his territory. His hand slips under your dress, and his finger enters you, working you nice and slow, alluring. “So wet baby,” he moans as you squeeze around him. “Let me take care of that for you.”

You moan and throw your head back and Sam takes the opportunity to nip at your throat, adding a second finger to your drenched pussy. He teases you with gentle strokes, pressing his thumb over your clit. You wiggle against his hand, and he gets the hint, picking up his pace.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp. “Sam, yes,” you all but cry out. His fingers are rough, long, and fucking magical. He knows how to work your body better than anyone. It’s a blessing and a curse, the way this man owns you.

He finger fucks you at an aggressive speed, circling against your clit, making you shiver. He’s so attentive, so skilled. How have you gone so long without him? “You like that?” He asks, gliding his fingers around your slick folds before sinking back into you, curling and barely brushing against that spot that makes you scream.

“Uh huh,” you moan breathlessly, greedily pushing your hips down against his hand. “Sam, you’re so good, s-so fucking good.”

“Fuck, baby, bet you’d feel so good on my cock right now,” he grunts, leaning back and looking into your eyes as he presses his fingers deep into your needy cunt. You’re on the edge of cumming, but his words spur something inside of you. You want Sam. All of him. Everywhere.

“Wait, stop,” you insist, pushing your hand back on his chest. He frowns but listens to what you say, removing his fingers from you, leaving you painfully empty. It’s an awful feeling, but you have an idea.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks with a smirk, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking your juices, moaning at your taste.

“Nothing,” you insist, sighing as you watch him. Wait, no, you’re in charge right now. You lift your shoulders in confidence as you slide off the table. He watches with a crooked grin as you get on your knees. A sight he loves. He quickly helps you undo his tuxedo bottoms and you eagerly tug them down. He’s painfully hard, and you’re so proud of yourself. You mouth at his bulge through his boxers, wetting the fabric with your tongue, encasing him in your hot breath.

“Baby, you know what your mouth does to me,” he breathes.

“Yeah, exactly,” you whisper, dragging down his boxers, letting his hard dick spring free. “Wanna fuck my mouth, Sammy?” You ask, and he nearly collapses at your words and the use of the old nickname you had for him. You only ever used it when you were sick or wanted something from him. But hearing it tumble from your lips as you kiss the tip of his cock is thrilling.

“Yeah,” he grunts desperately. “Suck my cock baby.”

You grin up at him, happy to oblige. Your tongue slips past your lips, darting around his throbbing tip. He groans as you lick at the head, dipping into his slit, tasting his precum. You gather it on your tongue and show him. His eyes darken and you swallow.

You lick down his shaft, rolling your tongue along his thick length. Your hand lightly grasps his base, pumping your fist, glancing up to see his reaction. His face is gorgeous, sweat beads rolling down his forehead, lip trapped between his teeth.

He’s panting above you, his hands gripping the table behind him so tightly his knuckles turn white. You kiss the side of his shaft, down to his balls, sucking them into your mouth. “Fuck, fuck,” he gasps, slamming his fist on the table.

He brings a hand to your hair and tugs. You decide to give him what he wants, what you both want. You drop your hand from him and loosen your jaw, taking half of him into your mouth and moaning. Your hands move to hold his hips, and you slide the rest of his dick into your mouth.

Sam groans as your red lips spread over his cock, licking his lips as he watches himself disappear into your mouth. It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. Your silky tongue slides over him teasingly as you bob your head and let his length fill your mouth.

You pull back, releasing him with a pop, jerking his dick a few times as you breathe in. He marvels at the wetness on your lips, eyes dark and full of desire. You open your mouth, guiding his tip to your tongue, keeping your lips parted so he can see his precum smear over your lips.

“Fuck, dollface, that’s so fucking hot,” he moans. You try to smile, but his dick makes it difficult. So you close your mouth around him, sucking him past your lips and deep into your mouth. He hits the back of your throat, and you hold him there for a few seconds, deep breathing through your nose.

You hum around him, pulling back a little, relaxing your jaw before letting him hit your throat again. This time you encourage him to take charge, putting his hands back in your hair and urging him on. He takes control, holding your head in place as he thrusts into your mouth. His hips buck quickly, and you take everything he has to offer you, swallowing around him when he hits deep in your throat.

You make a little gagging sound that turns him on even more and look up at him with wide, watery eyes. He gasps and lets his head fall back, fucking your face faster. “Babe, I’m close,” he groans and tugs your hair.

You whimper, and his eyes snap open. As much as he’d love to finish in your mouth, he still has other plans. So he pulls you off of him, relishing in your little sigh of defeat.

“Hey--” You start, but he pulls you up, smashing his lips against yours. Your lipstick has smeared over your lips mixed with Sam’s slick, creating an arousing view. He loves it.

“Gotta fuck you, baby,” he grumbles and reaches into the pocket of his jacket.

“Do you always carry a condom on you?” You ask with a laugh.

“Maybe,” Sam says as he tears the foil open, discarding the wrapper in ignorance.

“You assumed you were getting laid tonight?” You ask another question, expecting the same answer.

“Maybe,” he says, confirming your thoughts.

“By me?” You tease, watching his hands.

“Definitely,” he nods and rolls the condom on.

“You sure about that?” At this point, your words are just to fill the silence. You’re ready and willing for Sam.

“Baby, there is literally no one else in this world that I want,” he says with a wink. “Now bend over.”

You do as Sam says and lay your stomach over the table that’s been getting a lot of use tonight. Sam slides your dress up around your hips and slaps your ass. You moan as he enters you, pushing past your sensitive folds, filling you to the brink. He stills for a moment, letting you adjust around him. When you get impatient, you push back, and he takes the signal, pulling out and then slamming into you.

“Oh, god,” you gasp out, making Sam chuckle. He digs his nails into your hips and thrusts into you at a brutal pace, your thighs knocking against the table as your upper half slides over the surface. He’s so fucking thick and in so deep, your nails scratch the table beneath you as pleasure completely takes over your body.

“Not quite, but I appreciate the compliment,” he laughs. His hand smooths over your lower back as his cock pumps into you fast, savoring the way you feel around him, nice and warm and wet. He sinks into you with ease. “You take me so well, dollface,” he groans as your walls tighten around him. “My cock fits you perfectly.”

You nod, letting out breathy sounds. He feels incredible inside of you, and all you want is more. Your head drops against the table as you feel Sam’s hands roam your body, up to your sides, across your back, until he’s grabbing your ass, massaging the flesh. “Fuck, Sam, fuck me,” you rasp.

“I am, baby,” he chuckles, rolling his hips into yours. “You want it harder?” He asks, teasingly slowing his movements, dragging his cock out of you.

“Yes, Sam, please,” you beg. He loves it when you beg.

“My dirty girl,” Sam breathes, knotting his hand in your hair and yanking your body up against his chest. The new angle sends him impossibly deeper, hitting that delicious spot within you. “Fuck, baby, I love the way you feel. Think I could spend the rest of my life fucking you, listening to your gasps and moans, feeling this pretty pussy swallow my cock.”

“Sam,” you warn, grinding down against him. Your mouth hangs open, unable to form full sentences, just choppy breaths and pathetic sounds. You feel like you’re about to fall apart. “S-Sam.”

“You wanna cum?” He taunts, sliding his finger to your front. He easily finds your clit, massaging you as his dick continues to slam into you. “Cum for me? Show me how good I make you feel. Come on, dollface. I know you’re close.”

You whine as Sam flicks his finger faster over your clit. Your body feels like it’s going to vibrate into another dimension with how well he’s fucking you. You’re gasping as he wrecks you, all intelligent thoughts have left your mind. All you can focus on is Sam. “Dick dumb” is what he would say. His favorite way to have you. “Gonna…cum,” you manage to croak out.

“Good girl,” he praises, his breath hot on your neck. “Such a good girl. Fuck.”

His approval is what tips you over the edge, and you cum hard, collapsing in his arms. Sam eases you through your orgasm, whispering sweet words to you as he moves his hips a little slower. “Christ,” you moan shakily.

And if that doesn’t stroke his ego… Seconds later, Sam finishes, burying his face in your hair, his orgasm hitting him hard. “Fuck, I love you,” he moans out. His words make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He loves you.

“I love you, Sam,” you whisper. He slips out of you, holding onto you so you don’t fall. You’re completely weak. You can only imagine how you look with ratted hair and smudged lipstick. You glance around you and frown. “Where are my panties?”

Sam stands behind you, fixing his clothes up. He smirks as he holds up the red fabric. You go to reach for it, but he stops you, holding your panties out of reach. Damn his height. “I’m a glutton, remember?” He teases, rolling your panties up and shoving them in his pocket.

“Pervert,” you grin and walk over to him. “How do I look?”

“Like you’ve been fucked stupid,” he laughs.

“Ugh, shut up!” You smack him. “I need my mirror,” you pout, digging through your clutch to find it. Once you open it, you gasp. “Oh my god.” You’re in desperate need of a touch-up. Many touch-ups.

Behind you, Sam fumbles around, making way too much noise. “Dollface?” He asks and then quickly adds, “I found the chest.”

“What?” You whip around as you fix your hair, awkwardly working out the knots.

Sam drops down to pick the lock and it falls open with ease. You both stare in amazement as you’re met with the view of jewels and ancient artifacts. One, in particular, stands out, and Sam notices the same thing, grabbing the stone dagger carefully. You both stare at it, Sam reading the scripture on the blade. It’s faded, but he’s able to make out most of it.

“Is it a clue?” You ask, hopeful.

Sam gives you a smile. “It’s the answer,” he says.

Masterlist

#sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #sam drake #samuel drake #uncharted fanfiction

36 notes · View notes

icefire149 · 3 years ago

Note

30! Deancas, its cold so cas insists on a scarf instead of his tie

Char I'm so sorry this took a million years to write. Work and life kept me extremely busy, and then this lovely fic kept going in a different direction (which seems like a theme in every prompt I tackled). I really hope you enjoy this one, and have a lovely day :D

#30 - I love you mumbled into a scarf

Dean had his head buried so deep in thought about the impala’s winter maintenance that he almost missed the familiar foot steps breezing past in the garage. His eyebrows pressed together as he pulled his head out of the car. “Cas, buddy, where are you going?”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and turned on his heels. “Oh, Dean.” His gaze nervously glanced around the garage. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you okay?” Dean leaned against the side of the impala now, and crossed his arms. “You look kinda spooked.”

Cas’ gaze flitted around the car. “Do you happen to have Jack with you?”

“Nah,” Dean answered, scratching the back of his neck. “He went on a grocery run with Sam about a half hour ago.”

“Oh,” Cas exhaled, and visibly relaxed some. “That’s good. He’ll enjoy that greatly.”

“Did you need him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

Dean walked around the car and stopped closer to Cas. “I’m gonna need more than that. What’s up?”

“I need to go Christmas shopping.”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean blinked. “Are….are we celebrating Christmas this year?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel confessed. “I know you and Sam have your own traditions and this is your home, but I’d like to give Jack his first Christmas since….last year he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.” The word tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. He was going to need time to process every verbal hit Cas pummeled him with. In a daze, he pointed at the impala with his thumb. “Do you want a ride?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Cas answered genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He was still sorting Cas’ words when he found himself opening the impala’s door.

The angel slid into the front passenger seat, and they were off in the direction of the nearest shopping mall. It wasn’t until they hit their second red light that something finally clicked into place in his brain. “Is that why you tend to disappear around the holidays?” Turning, he kept his eyes on Cas long enough to see the twist in his expression.

“Maintaining customs, holiday traditions in this case are incredibly important to humans. I didn’t want to overstep or interfere.”

“You do realize I leave probably a dozen voice mails the closer it gets to Christmas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s quite irritating having my phone going off so often when I’m trying not to take from your time with Sam.”

“Cas,” Dean said exasperatedly. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but the blaring honk of the car behind him momentarily cut off his train of thought. When traffic settled so did Dean, “I already get enough of Sammy, and I’m sure he’s more than sick of me too, especially around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, I’ve been wanting you to join us….since forever. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pained tone in his voice that startled Dean down to his core. He shivered involuntarily. Glancing over at Cas, he saw that the angel had his eyes glued out the window. It bothered Dean not being able to pin down what was bothering Cas. It felt like so much more was hidden in that apology.

Turning back to the road, Dean reached a hand out blindly until it connected with the sleeve of Cas’ coat. “There’s nothing to be that upset about, your heart was in the right place.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, but spoke with a note of levity. “And how many times do I gotta tell you that the bunker is your home too?”

“Once more, perhaps?”

Dean could feel the constriction in his chest loosen at the faint smile he could hear in Cas’ voice. He shook his head. “Giving Jack a real first Christmas is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it months ago.”

“I think we’ve all been a bit too preoccupied.”

“Yeah.” Dean withdrew his hand and turned the car down the nearest exit. “You’re not wrong.” Basically since Jack was born they’ve been non-stop busy. The past few months in particular were miserable, for all of them.

“I know things aren’t one hundred percent safe with Michael still out there,” Cas started. “But I’m glad that you’ll be home for Christmas. I fear I would’ve ruined Jack’s holiday if you weren’t here.”

“Nah,” Dean argued, feeling his eyebrows pinch together. “My presence shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Dean.” He could feel the angel’s stare sliding under his skin. “I left Jack with Sam so I could chase every whisper, blade, bullet, and trap that might lead to you. And from what I’ve gathered, Sam did much of the same passing Jack off on whoever was willing to keep an eye on him. That wasn’t fair to him, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”

“Hey,” Dean tried cutting through Cas’ frustration with himself. “You had no idea what Sam was gonna do.”

“Jack was never meant to be Sam’s responsibility. I-”

“You did the best you could at the time.” Cas didn’t answer, and Dean couldn’t risk taking his eyes off of traffic in that moment. “I mean it, and besides we’re well past that tunnel now. And we’re gonna give Jack a real Christmas.”

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed in response, and spotted what he was looking for: the sign for the mall. “Don’t tell Sammy, but-” He glanced at Cas’ curious expression. “since we found the bunker, I’ve always wanted to make it look like Christmas threw up all over the place.”

And to Dean’s genuine surprise, Cas laughed. It was happy and light, and when Dean turned for a heartbeat, the image of Cas with his head tilted back was branded into his memory. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “After growing up watching every Christmas special imaginable as a replacement for actually celebrating the holiday normally...I think it’s like making up for lost time if we go overboard.”

Another hearty laugh rocked Cas. “Makes logical sense to me.”

“Besides the kid will get a massive kick out of it.”

“I hope so,” Cas muttered, as the car came to a stop in the parking space.

“Oh trust me, he will,” Dean said throwing an arm behind the back of his seat and turning to face the angel. “Soooo….where to first?”

Cas observed their surroundings before letting his stare rest on Dean. “I’m not sure.”

“Well we can just check out whichever store is closest and work our way around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly.

Dean’s hand rested on the door handle, but the movement next to him made him pause. He watched Cas dig a hand into his jacket pockets until he pulled out a long, dark blue scarf. “Traded the tie out for a new accessory?”

The angel snapped his hands to his chest in order to hold the scarf tightly. “It’s new,” he said defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean grinned. “Did you go out of your way to buy something the same exact shade as your favorite tie?”

Cas’ eyes trailed down to the fabric between his fingers. “Maybe,” he answered after a short, meditative pause.

“It’s nice,” Dean said pushing his door open. “I was wondering where the tie was today.” He got out of the car and Cas quickly followed him on the other side.

Cas hooked the scarf behind his neck. “It felt redundant.” His expression quickly twisted in frustration as his hands failed to wrap the scarf in a way that would be comfortable.

“Need some help, buddy?”

The angel’s gaze pierced him like a knife, but that didn’t stop Dean from circling around the impala to stop directly in front of Cas. He held his hands out. “Just let….”

Cas’ hands fell to his sides, and the frustration slowly smoothed out of his face. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“-me help.” Dean started wrapping the scarf properly so Cas could duck the lower half of his face out of the chilly, winter air whenever he wanted.

There was something magnetic in Cas’ demeanor. As it circled and grew in his eyes, it filled Dean with a soft warmth that drew him a step closer. His skin burned, but on his brother’s life he couldn’t remember in that moment why he would normally never let himself get this close.

Dean could feel the puffs of Cas’ breath caressing his face, sending goosebumps across every inch of his skin. Despite this, he reached forward and finished laying and puffing the scarf up.

The apples of the angel’s cheek’s appeared pinker when Dean’s gaze slid up from the blue fabric that was still caught between his fingers. Cas’ bottom lip twitched for a second, and then he sunk his face into the scarf.

Thoughts slid back into Dean’s head. Louder than ever. The tips of his fingers clung a little tighter to the scarf. This feeling wasn’t new. Everything that had to do with Castiel, it was like a Gordian Knot. There was too much to sort and untangle. The fragile thing they had was too important to him to destroy completely. The solution was simple and staring him in the face, but he’d been teetering on that decision for a decade now.

Before he could move, a simple vibration resounded up his fingertips. And before Dean could ask what the angel had said, Cas broke the moment.

His hands slowly and shakily unhooked Dean’s grip, lowering them. The scarf slid down Cas’ face as he momentarily glanced around the parking lot. Dean quickly forgot about the brief indescribable look in the angel’s stare, when a glimpse of Cas’ teeth caught his eye.

The tension eased in Cas’ shoulders. He released Dean’s hands with a widening smile. “Let’s go. I’m not sure what would be suitable for a Christmas tree. Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, losing himself in this new moment. “We’ll have to go elsewhere and grab your truck, but I have several ideas.”

The prompt was from this list. I'm not expecting any more prompts from this one, but if there's one you really want me to try please ask! (and specify the prompt list).

#my writing #spn #this takes place in season 14 and Cas is 100% worrying about the empty deal #especially when he also is getting too wrapped up in the moment and an i love you slipped out

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dimensionwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Awkward Shade of Green

Part Four

M! Orc x F! Reader

Word Count: 2021

Warning: None

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Now I know you guys may be thinking right now. "Dimension, what the hell. You said A.S.G. was over with." Well, you got @featherynutcase or @featherednutcase to thank for this.

So, please go and give them a follow and send them some love. They deserve it for dealing with how long I took on this, lol. Anyway, let's get started with the story.

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Gold and black was hanging everywhere around you. It was nothing but a constant reminder that it was that time of the school year. Prom.

The times were stressful for everyone in school. Between trying to get outfits, make plans, or trying to find a date, everyone was panicking slightly. Usually, this time wouldn’t be that stressful for you. It was the same as the previous years: you would go to Prom with Anx and you guys would have fun.

But this time was different. You were dating Zerx and you knew he was looking forward to this. He’s just that type of orc.

You were expecting him to do something extravagant, but something was off.

Zerx has been unusually quiet. He never glanced twice at all the posters in the hallway. Everytime you even slightly mention Prom, he would say he had to go do something. You were expecting him to be more… well excited for Prom.

“Have I done something wrong to Zerx?” you whispered to Anx. Zerx was walking ahead with a friend. He barely spoke a word past hi to you before being dragged away by his friend. You don’t want to be that significant other that’s clingy, but it feels like he’s being a lot more distant lately.

“What in the world made you think that? I’ve heard nothing but talks of you for the last week,” Anx grumbled. Her hand went to her forehead and started massaging her temple.

“He rarely talks to me and I thought he would be the type to discuss something about Prom.” Zerx’s head snapped back at you with wide eyes You got scared for a second thinking that he heard you, but he just gave you a tiny smile before turning back around to his friend.

“That idiot is probably just trying to play it cool,” her eyes glanced away from yours,” Are you worried that he won’t ask you out?” Anx’s arms went behind her head as she slowed down a little bit, so the two of you trailed behind a little.

Were you worried about it? Prom was the least on your mind right now. You were more worried about how Zerx was acting and why he was acting that way.

“Um, I guess. A little,” you lied. She turned your head towards you and she had a giant smirk on her face. Her arms dropped from her head and draped around you.

“Well, worry no more. How about we just work on you asking him out instead?” You open your mouth to voice your opinion of the matter, but she beat you to talking again. “Great, I’ll pick you Saturday so we can plan it.”

And that was the end of the conversation. Zerx’s friend had to leave, so Zerx was stuck with you guys again. You never got the chance to question Anx on her intention, but they have never been bad for you.

Saturday came a lot faster than you expect. Anx showed up a little earlier than the time she said she would, but you didn’t let that bother you. She jokingly scolded you for not being ready as she went through your closet for some clothes for you. What she chose was a lot fancier than what you would have chosen for a day of planning, but you didn’t really mind.

“Hey, do you mind if I drop you off and run to the store real quick?” Anx was driving down the road with a giant smile on her face. Since she has arrived at your place, she has had that smile on her face.

“I can come with you if you want,” you offered, but she was quick to shut you down with a shake of her head. She turned the corner to the road leading to her house.

“See, we are already here. You can go ahead and head in. I’ll be back in like… 5 minutes.” She unlocked the doors and gave you an expecting look. She is definitely acting weird now. Is something going on with Zerx and Anx... or is it you?

You slowly got out of the car as you stared at Anx. She gave you a slow nod of approval. You grab the door handle and continue the slow movements of shutting the door. Anx’s smile turned slightly wicked. What?

You wanted to grab the handle and open the door to question her, but she shot backwards down the driveway. The last thing you saw was her giving you a thumbs up before speeding down the road.

She doesn’t seem mad at you. Maybe the reason she left you alone at her house because she wanted you to talk with Zerx. Yeah, that definitely sounds like something Anx would do. To be honest she probably knew you wouldn’t have talked to Zerx without her help, so she gave you this little push. Well, you won’t let her efforts be in vain.

You grabbed the handle at the door to see the door was already unlocked. Anx must have already had this planned out.

The first thing you noticed when you walked through the door was the black and gold flower petals littering the floor.Almost in a movie like fashion, they made a path that led to the living room.

You entered the house and shut the door behind you. Why were there flower petals littering your floor? Anx may have planned some weird stuff, but this is going a little too far.

“Anx!” That was definitely Zerx’s voice coming from the living room. Heavy footsteps trekked around before rounding the corner. “You’re late. I told you to get here an hour-”

Speechless. The words have left your body and have ascended to a plain beyond your comprehension.

Your boyfriend is the hottest creature on the earth and you will fight someone on it. A grey sweater was pulled over his firm muscles and on top of that was a white button up. A dark navy blue jacket was hanging off his shoulder. His khaki pants were slightly tight on him because of how curvy he was.

His hair wasn’t done up. Black strands were pulled up with a messy bun with a pencil holding it together. The only thing that didn’t go great with his amazing outfit was the pure fear on his face at seeing you. You were hoping for a smile and maybe that cute little red blush. That face was not expected.

He marched forward until he stood right in front of you. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it. He repeatedly did this before just shutting his mouth completely.

His warm hands wrapped around your waist. Gently, his thumb started rubbing soothing circles into your skin. “Axel?” you asked.

His grip tightened as he hoisted you into the air. You let out a tiny squeal at your ascending height. He took giant steps towards the door before placing you back down outside.

You had a lovely view of the intricacies of the front door as it was slammed in your face. Zerx really just slammed a door in your face. Not to include him lifting you up like you were some sort of child.

You grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door back open. Zerx was still in the hallway with a giant frown on his face.

"Zerx, what the hell was that?" He jumped at your voice. You stomped over to him with a small scowl on your face. "You ignore me for a week and then turn around and kick me out of your house. What is going on?"

His face was completely red and he just froze up. His blue eyes stared blankly at you with his mouth pulled in a tight line.

You waited for a while for him to move or to say something. Instead, he just stood there with nothing moving. The only thing that told you he was alive was the way he was wildly breathing.

"Zerx, standing still won't make you disappear," you whined. You were at your end meets. You just wanted some communication between you two right now.

He let out a groan and grabbed the top of his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm panicking. You aren't supposed to be here," your face dropped down at that," No-no. Not like that. Today was supposed to be the test run for asking you to Prom."

He walked over to you with his head held low. The blush had lightened up on his face allowing for his sullen face to become apparent.

Test run? He was planning to do a test run today.

"Anx was supposed to show up today and see how everything looked and make sure I wasn't going overboard again," he mumbled, staring at the ground. Small black strands fell over his face.

Gently, you reached in front of you and grabbed his hand. Intwinding your finger with his and letting his giant hand engulf yours. The warmth from his hand flowed through your fingers and made his way to your heart. This is the closest you felt to him in a while.

"Baby," you cooed. You got on your tiptoes to get closer to his face. A tiny blush appeared on his face causing you to smile. "You don't have to doubt yourself. I would be happy if you did something big and extravagant or small and quiet. As long as it's coming from you, I will love it."

A tiny little hop. That's all it took to give Zerx a tiny peck on his lip. Zerx was quick to keep your lips connected on your descendant down.

You couldn't help laughing at his action. He was so adorable. Gosh, how could you not love him.

You leaned away from the kiss to contain your laugh. Zerx's mouth formed into a frown as he let out a tiny whimper.

"One more please," he whined leaning towards you. Your laughter turned into giggles as you tried to contain it enough to lean forward to reconnect your lips.

"I miss this," he mumbled lowly. Leaning back, you gave him a smile. "Sorry for ignoring you. I didn't want to overwhelm you with talk of Prom, so I thought if I never mention it, then I would appear cool."

You pressed tiny kisses from his cheeks to his forehead and ended it with a eskimo kiss. "Zerx, I love you for who you are. I will happily listen to you talk about anything you like. What makes you happy makes me happy."

He let out a sigh of relief and stood away from your embrace. His cheeks seem to be stuck being red instead of green. However, instead of being flustered, he was relieved.

"Well, since you're already here. Would you like to be asked to Prom?" He spread his arms out as a way to display the rose petals leading into the living room.

Quickly, you tread forwards. The gold and black petals compressed under your foot before bouncing back to its original shape.

Before you entered the living room, you gave one glance behind you towards Zerx. A giant dorky smile was spread across his face. His tusk protruded out showing you his excitement. Adorable.

You turned back forward and walked into the living room. The black and gold petals continued upwards before separating out and coming back to form the shape of a heart.

Hanging in front of the fireplace were 5 gold balloons that spelled out P-R-O-M-?. On the wall around it were tiny little paper hearts that looked hand cut. On the coffee table were some chocolate covered strawberries, handmade cupcakes with gold hearts on it, and a bowl of caramel.

A pair of large green arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a warm embrace. The light thumping of his heart vibrated through your body to your heart. Connection.

"Sweetheart, will you go to prom with me?" He whispered into your ear. You placed your hands on his arm and leaned farther back into him.

"I wouldn't want to go with anyone else."

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I've been trying to suppress the desire to come back to this series, but @featherynutcase brought it out of me. I don't know if they are still doing the Prom series, but they are fantastic writer that I love to read when I'm wanting something cute. So please, once again, go check them out.

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turquoise-skyyyy · 4 years ago

Text

The Solution To Everything(Is Hair Dye)

Note: Human AU! First time posting writing on tumblr lmao, and I wanted to try a bit of a different writing style... so there’s that.

Just a little writing practice paired with Marellinh fluff n kinda angst ig :)

Word count: uhhh i went overboard

Blurb: Linh is lonely, with no one in the world left by her side, hurt, by all that she’s lost, and possibly has an ever-so-slight crush on her elusive blonde neighbor. Marella needs someone to dye her hair within the day, and Linh happens to have exactly what she needs, in more ways than one.

When Linh wakes late in the night, startled from her dozing state on the couch in her dimly lit living room to the sound of persistent knocking, she certainly doesn’t expect to find the blonde neighbor she’s been inconspicuously watching— she’s still trying to convince herself that casually watching the girl enter her house anytime she got the chance wasn’t stalking— for the past three weeks since she moved in next door to be on the other side. And when the panting girl in front of her sucks in a breath, Linh definitely doesn’t expect the words that spill from her lips—

“Can you dye my hair?”

Linh blinks with bewilderment, still trying to process that the girl is here, on her doorstep. Not to mention really, really pretty. Annoyingly so, to the point where Linh’s tired brain has to avert her eyes to focus on forcing her mouth to form words.

“What?”

The girl smiles apologetically, and suddenly Linh’s throat feels dry. The girl’s beauty is much more manageable from a distance, through subtle glances out of the corner of her eye across the hall.

“My roomates— screw them— dared me to dye my hair bright green by tomorrow. I lost a bet.” She looks away. “And you have green hair dye, so...”

Linh stares dumbly, trying to puzzle out how to respond to such a random, odd request. Though she moved into the apartment complex almost a month ago and her maybe sort of possible little crush lives just next door, her mind is still trying to register the fact that they have finally crossed paths. And the girl has come to her, no less.

“How do you know I have hair dye?” The hair dye is something she’s gotten to send to Tam. The silver in his hair is something he kept in long after she cut it off and cut off their parents. He still hangs on, and Linh wants to change that, even if they haven’t spoken in a year. She isn’t going to send it though, she knows. She always chickens out. Her brother’s silence for the past year isn’t easy to face. Still, she buys brightly-colored dyes frequently on the off chance that a lightning strike of confidence will hit her. It hasn’t happened yet, but it’s a comforting routine anyway.

The girl blushes, scratching the back of her neck bashfully and shifting from foot to foot. The movement draws Linh’s eyes to her shoes. They’re ratty sneakers, and upon closer inspection, it looks like there are messy, multi-colored words scribbled all over the sides. The weird shoes match the long, tacky rainbow socks that go up to her knees and the bright, tie-dye, too big sweater draped over her surprisingly small frame, with black leggings to top off the outfit underneath.

“Well, I saw you coming back in from the supermarket yesterday and there was a box of green hair dye poking out of the bags...” she trails off. “Oh my god. I sound like a stalker, don’t I? I swear I’m not.”

Linh can’t help the delirious, sleep-deprived giggle that escapes at the words. It’s ridiculous to her, that the girl she’s been following and observing as subtly as humanly possible because she’s just so pretty and Linh wants to know everything is the one worrying about being a creep.

The girl grins at her laughter, the question still burning in her eyes, which are an even brighter shade of blue than Linh realized up close.

She clicks her phone on, checking the time discreetly. It’s late, nearly midnight. The hair dye takes at least an hour, most likely more, to finish. She has an exam at nine the next day that she still hasn’t studied for and she hasn’t yet messaged Tam for her daily one-sided check-in that he never responds to, or even reads.

She looks back up at the girl with thin braids threaded through thick, golden locks, framing beautiful ice blue eyes set in a still blushing face, waiting for her at her doorstep with an open gaze and just maybe, an open mind.

Her stupid, fluttering heart makes a decision before her rational mind can catch up.

“Come on in.”

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

The girl, who introduces herself as Marella, asks her if she’s always so quiet.

Linh snorts, resisting the urge to point out that Marella is the one invading the house of a relative stranger in the middle of the night. Of course, there’s also the fact that she let her, and that isn’t even considering how flustered the blonde makes her. Especially in such close proximity, where she can smell the faint lavender wafting off her hair. Linh never would have pegged her for a lavender girl.

And when she leans closer to touch up the roots again, she realizes that Marella smells of something spicy. It’s good, comforting, like the home-cooked meals made with love that Linh only ever got to experience in other people’s houses because hers never truly felt like home, or the smell of wood when it was burned in a desperate attempt to keep the warmth in the winter because woolen hats and group hugs were never quite enough to warm everyone’s toes.

Linh has to remind herself to keep working her fingers through the hair.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh is thankful when the summer sun finally leaks away and is replaced by autumn wind. There’s something calming about the crisp air blowing through the hair that escapes from tightly-zipped thin hoodies and the leaves bleeding red and gold. She much prefers it to the heat of the summer, or the harshness of winter, the temperatures of which she can never quite escape from completely.

When she pulls open the doors to a nearby cafe and lets the smell of warmth and caffeine wash over her face, and falls into line to order, she isn’t expecting to be behind a girl with a mane of blonde hair that’s streaked through with bright green that hurt the eyes and small braids that sway when she shifts. And Linh’s weeks of watching from a distance pay off— and the hard-to-ignore green certainly helps— because she recognizes the girl immediately.

It’s Marella, sporting the new, significantly greener look that she gained by Linh’s own hands. Linh blushes at the reminder of the night weeks ago. She’s surprised to find that it was the first time she’s seen the girl since their unintentional night together. She’s been so occupied with settling in, getting organized, figuring out independence, and attempting to reach out to her absentee brother, that she hasn’t even noticed the girl’s absence. It seems her creeper skills have gotten rusty, which should make her happy but instead causes the barest amounts of disappointment to creep up. Even from afar, Marella is lively and brightens, or at least eases, the monotonous days that all seem to bleed into each other in one eternal, never-ending passage of pain.

“Hey!” Marella’s voice jolts Linh from her thoughts. “Nice to see you here!”

“H-Hi!” Linh stutters. She thinks the girl’s impossibly blue, intent gaze will always catch her off guard.

Her gaze shifts to the green in Marella’s hair, the harsh coloring softened by the sunlight streaming in through the windows of the cafe and bouncing off the bright strands.

“Your hair looks nice.”

Marella touches a hand to her neon green-streaked look and smirks. “All thanks to you.”

Linh’s cheeks warm at the praise. By the time they reach the orders taken down, Marella has somehow convinced Linh to sit and drink with her. She takes Linh’s wrist lightly and guides her to a table, an action that makes Linh’s face heat again. She looks down at the thin fingers encircling her arm to make sure she isn’t dreaming, and is elated to find that she isn’t.

And sitting in that booth, sipping their warm coffees and exchanging even warmer smiles, Linh’s romantic fantasies from afar suddenly seem a lot closer than she ever thought possible.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh isn’t sure exactly how she’s gone from watching her neighbor from a(very far) distance to being dragged into her unfamiliar apartment to be introduced to her roommates, but she can’t say she’s complaining.

As nerve-wracking as it is to be inside Marella’s house, she has to admit that the chance of pace from routine is something she would have been too scared to do herself. Had Marella not knocked on her door and practically shoved her out of her own with an evil grin on her face and into the girl’s shared one just minutes before, she might have stayed holed up in her own apartment forever, seldom leaving and only ever for basic necessities.

Patterns are nice, reliable, and most of all, consistent, something that Linh has never had before, and up until a year ago, had given up on attaining, but there’s something undeniably exciting about throwing caution to the wind and launching herself into a new situation.

However, there is the slight problem of said new situation happening to be making a good impression on her crush’s roommates, who are all staring down at her stoically in a solid line of four with their arms crossed and their gazes narrowed. It reminds Linh of the stereotypical movie tropes in which the overprotective dad interrogates the unnecessarily perfect Mary Sue’s new boyfriend when she brings him home for the first time, and she has to force herself not to laugh in the faces of the people glaring down at her. They’re all at least half a head taller than her, excluding the brunette girl, who has the most terrifying expression of them all on her face.

Three hours later, Linh is laughing tears of joy and drinking hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon with the scary roommates in their warmly lit, cozy living room, who’s first impression couldn’t have been more wrong.

The scary-looking brunette girl isn’t actually one of Marella’s roommates, instead living with the other brunette, her brother, at home with their parents. Her name is Biana, she has an attachment to the color purple that everyone else seems to make fun of her for, and an affinity for randomly throwing out the others’ clothes and replacing them with ones she deems good enough to be seen out with.

Her brother, who’s name is Fitzroy— everyone teases him about this— is better known as Fitz. He is smart, put-together, and as Marella refers to him, their group’s resident “tired dad”. He’s dating Dex, the nerdy but sarcastic actual roommate of Marella.

Then there is Sophie, who was in the kitchen when Linh first came in, and Keefe, the former being Dex’s cousin and Marella’s second roommate who is constantly done with everyone’s shenanigans; Marella claims that Fitz, the actually responsible one, can never be bothered to do anything about their spontaneous endeavors most of the time. The latter, on the other hand, is the most mischievous of the bunch who Linh also knows the least about. His smiles and grins are the most abundant, but also the most weighted. Linh suspects there is a lot more to him than she’ll ever be able to fully grasp.

Linh’s surprised with how well she fits in with these people. They seem so much lighter and freer than her, a girl still tainted and chained down by the past and the experiences that came with it. They welcome her with open arms, and hours later, when dusk falls and it’s time for her to leave, the wrap her up in a hug and make her swear she’ll come back .She sinks into the hug, thinking that after knowing their light, she can’t possibly stay away.

Linh will forever owe all this new warmth in her life to Marella, who is perhaps the warmest of them all.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Fluffy blankets are good. Warm, cozy, comfortable, the kind of little thing in life that makes most people feel fuzzy feelings of nostalgia as they think back to the times they wrapped themselves up in warm blankets on the days they were feeling overwhelmed by the world, when they sat in messily-built blanket forts with their best friends and told scary stories during the devil’s hour with only a flashlight illuminating their evil grins, or the fights with their siblings to get the bigger portion of the blanket when they were forced to share a bed.

Unless that person is Linh, in which case all chances of that were stripped away by a pressured childhood where no room felt safe when her parents were near, friends were disapproved of, and anything that could knock the Song family from the top was discarded before either of the children could protest.

But whether it’s a childhood like Linh’s, or one where everything went perfectly, the fact can generally be agreed on: fluffy blankets are a good, good thing.

But Linh doesn’t think she was ever aware just how perfect fluffy blankets can be until they came piled in the arms of a blonde girl with tiny braids and green threaded through her waves at the door.

“Movie night?” Marella asks, wiggling a laptop in her other hand. “I noticed that you don’t have a TV yet.”

Linh lets her in, eager to spend more time with just her and especially eager to share another night with just the two of them. The idea of being in a dimly lit room wrapped in blankets with their bodies pressed together and only the light of a screen illuminating their faces doesn’t hurt either.

They curl up together on the couch without a second thought, as if they’ve been doing so all their lives. Linh adores the way Marella’s head fits in the crook of her neck like the last missing piece of a puzzle, and holds her breath as the blonde reaches across her and presses play on Netflix once they’ve settled.

When the girl falls asleep on Linh’s shoulder an hour later, she cuddles closer to the warmth of the fluffy blanket and her— crush, or love, maybe, she doesn’t know— pressing to her side.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

As nice of a distraction as Marella and her strange roommates can be in the months that pass, Linh has to come crashing back down to reality at some point. And crash she does, when the banging on her door at nine o’clock at night opens to the face she knows as well as her own.

Her brother, approaching her for the first time in years, bringing nothing but news of their father’s death.

Linh knows she should be feeling something. That she should be falling to her knees and sobbing dramatically, like a protagonist in a drama novel, or maybe grabbing his hands and begging him to tell her that it isn’t true. Instead, when Tam bears the news, all she can do is match his emotionless expression. After all, what is there to feel?

And why is she in such desperate need of comfort when, truth be told, she feels no suffering?

She can’t explain her mind’s twisted way of thinking, but she does know that it’s what leads her next door, and what pushes her to throw her arms around Marella’s neck when she comes to the door decked in pajamas and those long, irritating rainbow-striped socks that she loves so much.

Linh likes to believe that it’s her petty grudge against the annoying socks that makes her cry on Marella’s shoulder that night, but hiding from the truth isn’t as easy as she likes to believe.

And when Marella wraps her in a fuzzy blanket that rains tufts of fine fluff on their heads and pulls her in close, Linh has a hard time believing fluffy blankets aren’t the answer to all the world’s problems.

Confidence has finally come to her, and she’s able to give Tam a box of hair dye before he leaves. She doesn’t know if he’ll use it, or when she’ll see him again, but the smallest spark of light in his eyes when he takes the dye and turns it over in his hand is enough hope for her.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

When Marella appears at her door in the middle of the night this time, weeks since Linh’s father died and they last saw each other, Linh is surprised that she isn’t surprised. After all, surely there’s something seriously wrong if the only thing she says when someone comes knocking at her door at exactly three minutes past midnight is, “Did you bring the hair dye?”

She pulls the blonde inside softly, takes the fuzzy blanket still draped on her couch from their movie night, and wraps it around the girl’s shivering frame. Marella starts to sob on her shoulder. Her fingers wrap around Linh’s neck and latch onto her, bringing them both down to the carpet when her knees give. Linh immediately wraps an arm around her and holds her close.

Linh doesn’t know what’s wrong, but she does know that Marella is leaning on her for support, and she does know that she will always be here, for as long as the blonde might need.

When she finally stops crying and lets Linh reach gentle fingers to wipe her cheeks, and pulls out electric blue hair dye that brings a smile to both of their faces, Linh has a hard time believing that hair dye isn’t the cure for everyone’s sorrows.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Linh finds it funny that one can promise themselves one thing-- that they are going to try as hard as they can not to connect with others as a means of protecting themselves, for example-- but still end up breaking the promise if the right temptation crosses their path.

And her temptation? A certain blue-eyed blonde with now bright blue highlights who’s devious smirks and snarky words can snap Linh’s resolve in a second. She knows she should hate her for it, but surrounded by mischievous roommates with twinkling eyes and light smiles filled to the brim with warmth, she can’t help but snuggle closer to her weakness.

Her weakness, who is currently failing to dominate the board in a (not-so)friendly game of Christmas Monopoly. Marella informed her that it’s a holiday classic when she dragged her inside the house just an hour before, but judging by the rabid way the players are screaming at each other, Linh can’t say she agrees.

“What do you mean, the empire kind is the wrong kind?” Keefe screeches. “Duh, it’s easier!”

“For you, maybe! But it’s not the original!” Dex retorts.

Keefe jabs a finger at the board. “Then why are you still playing and why are you in second place?” He throws his hands up. “If you’re so mad about it, then stop playing and let the rest of us noncomplainers win.”

“Noncomplainers isn’t a word, Keefe,” Fitz says, idly shuffling the assortment of multi-colored money laid out in front of him. As banker, he’s the calmest and least angry of the bunch, though there’s something oddly menacing about the way he rearranges his money with careful, poised fingers.

Keefe, Dex, and Fitz are circled around the board, all nursing mugs of hot cocoa(which Linh has realized is a sort of trademark for them) in between bouts of shrieking, while Sophie left a little while ago to buy original Monopoly just in case Keefe and Dex destroy the board. Linh laughed when the exasperated blonde said it, but now she can see why it’s a legitimate concern.

Linh curls her cold feet in from her position on the long couch, and Marella automatically shifts the fluffy blanket they’re sharing to fully cover her toes again. Linh smiles up at her gratefully, and Marella offers a small smirk back. Then she goes right back to screaming. Linh debates calling Sophie and asking her to bring back ear plugs too.

“Whatever,” Biana scoffs. “You’re all sore losers.”

She is currently winning, as she has been for the entire game, and she glares down at the boys huddling around the game board from her perch in one of the armchairs.

And on it goes. At the end of the night, when Monopoly money is scattered on the floor and a smoking dinner that’s just a bit too salty is shared and hastily wrapped presents tied with glittery bows are exchanged(Marella is too impatient to wait for Christmas morning), Linh finds herself full of more love and joy than she thinks she ever has been in her entire life. There’s something oddly comforting about being with people who care for and accept her, even if it’s by default or association. Having someone who cares is a rare light in her life that most people take for granted.

Especially when there’s the smallest chance that the person who truly holds her heart returns her feelings.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

It’s the night before Christmas and Linh can’t sleep.

It’s the tossing and turning type of ‘can’t sleep’, the kind where Linh lies awake long after dark waiting for her mind and conscience to stop running around in circles around her head, the kind where her insecurities grow claws and fangs and sink them in skin-deep, where there is no light slipping through the cracks to keep them at bay.

And Linh hates that kind of ‘can’t sleep’.

It makes her antsy, on edge, and the urge to pace itches at her feet. The unfamiliar surface of the floor of Marella’s bedroom only makes matters worse, and as softly as she tries to twist under the thin covers, it doesn’t take long for the rustling on the floor to alert the blonde girl dozing off above her.

Marella slides to the floor sleepily before Linh can whisper a protest and lands next to her on the mattress with a grunt. Linh rolls over to face her, and is startled by how close their faces are. She can count the light freckles on Marella’s nose and cheeks when she’s this close. Moonlight is streaming into the room through the cracks in the shutters of the window, painting streaks of glowing white on the blonde’s face. She always looks beautiful, but Linh finds there’s something especially intimate about her in this moment. The air is suddenly buzzing with palpable tension, making her palms go slick with sweat and her mind hyper-aware of every movement. She can’t take her eyes off Marella.

Then, girl of Linh’s dreams breaks the stillness, leaning forward and pressing soft, sleepy lips to her own.

She’s asleep by the time she draws away, but Linh is shaking with adrenaline. It’s the moment she’s waited for so long she can hardly think of a time where she didn’t want the blonde.

And yet.

Linh’s the kind of girl with baggage, with the kind of ‘skeletons in the closet’ that people run away screaming from, not because it’s scary, but because it’s messy. Complicated. It bogs everyone who knows down, making every action in her presence laborious and painful with the knowledge of her past. Even her brother, who once promised to be by her side forever, wouldn’t stay.

She knows it’s irrational, but suddenly she can’t imagine how to face Marella.

She slips out of the apartment in the early hours of the morning so Marella’s blue gaze can’t stop her from running away. But despite her misgivings, the insecurities that still haven’t retracted their claws, and the voice in the back of her head whispering that she has to have imagined it, Linh can’t stop touching a finger to her lips, long after she’s left the buzzing moonlit atmosphere that allows slips of self control under the cover of night.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

It’s been weeks. Three weeks and five days, to be exact, and Linh still can’t figure out how to face her.

With every day that passes, she can feel the strong bonds they formed weakening. That’s one thing about relationships. They need an equal amount of effort. If Linh doesn’t put in enough, the object of her affection slips between her fingers before she can blink. That’s how she lost her brother, her friends, and any last semblance she might have had of “family”.

That is, until Marella.

She was persistent, even in the beginning, fighting to spend more and more time with a mildly resistant Linh, until she found it impossible to stay away. Her light is unlike any Linh has ever known, wild and fluid like an eternal flame that can’t be doused. That flame kept Linh alive for all these months, and yet here she is, ignoring it. Maybe even putting it through pain.

It takes a month, but it finally comes to her.

She realizes now that love isn’t something that affects only her, and that she isn’t the only one to win or lose in it. She isn’t the only person in love.

Love is two people, three people, ten people, a hundred people. Love is everyone who forces themselves into her life with the intent of staying no matter how dark it gets. Love is the flickers of light in the night and the bold streaks of sun in the morning. Love is the twinkling stars splattered across a purple painted sky.

Love is illumination. Love is clarity. Love is a path paved special, with different twists and turns for everyone.

Love is...

Marella.

Love is Marella.

-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-

Weeks of radio silence after months of talking nonstop is hard to bounce back from, and they both know this well.

But Linh comes back anyway. She comes knocking on Marella’s door exactly a month after they last talked, this time she being the one to approach at random in the middle of the night. When the door opens and she smiles apologetically, pressing a butterfly kiss to Marella’s forehead and pushing a big blanket and a bright, eye-melting color of hair dye into her arms in a silent apology, all Marella does is smile and pull her back in for a real, proper kiss.

Yeah, neon green and fluffy blankets are the solution to everything.

#i did a thing #well this was fun #kotlc #kotlc au #marella redek #linh song #marellinh #the amount of times i wrote 'marellinh' instead of marella is ridiculous #i refuse to go through and edit this again #skyyyy'swriting

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reallifeonthetheseventhfloor · 4 years ago

Note

That ring would make a good wedding gift for Ainz and Albedo though.

...Well, y’all have successfully enticed my brain to make a snippet. (Flash fic? Is that what tumblr calls it, a flash fic? Doggone, I swear it’s called something like that!) Buuuut anyways, here’s some words I dropped that conveniently made a relevant short story as they smacked into my laptop screen!! Enjoy!

*————~ ✨💍✨~————*

It wasn’t easy that night to find a moment alone with Ainz, considering how Albedo was nearly glued to his side. But somewhere between the toasts and the dancing and the formal reintroductions, Mira slunk up behind the large skeleton, tugged on a sleeve, and they both slipped into a shadow to chat.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” she laughed. She looked back out at the crowd. The guests had cycled through the denizens of Nazarick overnight, and now noteworthy names invited from outside the tomb were present for festivities. “If I were you, I’d be ready to shut myself alone in a room for a week. What is this, the third day of celebrating?”

“The seventy-eighth hour, to be exact,” he groaned, amusement in his tone. “Luckily, we are nearing the end. If this is how an announcement of engagement is to be treated, I will certainly need to brace myself for the wedding.”

“The guardians went a little overboard, yeah. I’m sure Albedo already has elaborate plans prepared for the big day, but I promise I’ll see what I can do to make sure you actually get a wedding night, rather than get trapped in a procession for weeks,” she teased.

He chuckled. “She would likely be grateful for the push in that particular direction. Though… perhaps it would not be so unwise to make use of the time with celebration, if Albedo so desires. The traditional meaning of such a night, with an undead husband…” The glow in his eyes dimmed momentarily as he looked back to the succubus in white. She was brimming with joy, displaying the new ring on her finger with pride at every flourish. “I am of course aware of her enthusiasm. But, we… I cannot… ah—w-welll, that is—er—”

Mira could nearly feel heat emanating from the intensity of his emotional suppressor as he realized what he was saying.

“—Forgive me,” he stuttered, “such concerns are surely not what you have pulled me aside to discuss. What is on your mind?”

She looked at him. Then, to his surprise, she started snickering.

“Well—actually,” she said in between giggles, “that’s exactly what I wanted to discuss.”

“You… you did?”

A small box emerged from one of her pockets. “I wasn’t sure if it was something you’d want,” she admitted, “but I thought… you two deserve to have the option.”

The option?…

Taking the box from her, he held it up to his face between two metacarpals. He observed it closely, watching the light sheen across the golden bow that decorated the lid. He hummed, stalling. She put her hands behind her back patiently.

“I’m, uh, gonna go find Cocytus,” she said, “I want to make sure the Lizardmen are feeling at home among the other guests.”

She turned to go, stepping out of the shadows and glancing across the room. The big blue figure was on the far end, and a suited devil noticed her watching them speak. She debated on whether it was worth trying to dance her way through the social greetings the distance would take, or if she should just use the guild ring to teleport to an opposite door. It would save her so much trouble to just teleport over…

“—Mira.”

The red glow at her hand vanished. She looked back into the alcove.

The box was open, eyes fixed on the small gift Ainz had carefully lifted from within. He placed the Ring of Infiltration back down on the velvet interior, bony fingers lingering over it.

“… About the wedding plans. You said you might be able to persuade her to keep the evening free?”

Mira smiled. “I don’t think it’d take much persuading. But… maybe those are plans you two can figure out together, instead.”

His hood dipped, shading the red dots in his sockets. Gently, he closed the box, and covered it with both hands.

“Yes… I believe you are right. Thank you, Mira.”

She nodded, the smile warming her eyes. “Yeah, of course. Congratulations, ‘Monga.”

She turned, and he looked back to the box. Should he tell Albedo after the guests had left? Or maybe he would wait for a while. He had to collect his own thoughts on the matter now, after all. This small gift changed so m—

“Oh! And, um… I don’t know if you saw it,” Mira was back again, and Ainz nearly fumbled the box out of his hands, “there’s a little note in there? I might have sort of, maybe, not really told you how intense the change can be. So uh, you might want a test run first. With like, a death knight maybe? Or something without too much difference in body structure.”

“Er—yes. I will take that into account.”

“Oh, also—the racial drives can be crazy?? I mean, my first try was just as a devil, and those hormones were a lot, but if you and Albedo—”

“Y-yes, Mira, I see your meaning.”

“And if you have any questions about anything, I’m absolutely here for you; I’ve been doing some research on things, and—”

“Mira!” Ainz’s hand was blocking his face.

“I’m just saying, one Supreme Being to another, if you guys need any sex advice, Demi and I would be happy to—”

“I’m going to give this back.”

“No no, I’m going, I’m going! I’ll leave you to it, you’ve got this! I have faith in you,” she said, backpedaling verbally as well as physically. “... But if you have any questions at all—”

A green glow faded as the skeleton groaned.

Mira grinned. “Ok, right, see you after the party,” was her last farewell, and then she was gone.

It didn’t take longer than a count to ten before Demiurge found her. “Well?” he asked. “Did our Lord accept your gift?”

She slipped her hand into his. “Yup, he did. I think it’s gonna be good.” His thumb ran over her fingers as they both watched Albedo greet her fiancé, all her regal energy blossoming as Lord Ainz returned to her side. There was something softer about the lich’s movements, something more about the way his eyes lingered on her. Mira squeezed Demiurge’s hand a bit tighter.

“... But remember what I said about being ready to field questions,” she muttered to the devil, eyebrows raised. He laughed. “That man is going to have a million.”

#overlord #flash fic #snippet #ask #bunngygoblin #ainz #Mira #albedo #demiurge #ring of infiltration #how do ‘keep reading’ thing on mobile #sorry for the long post #this is canon to nothing #but it was so much fun to write #thank you for the ask!#and thanks to #spookyscarycreepydollgirl #for the other ask too!

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let-me-love-you-loki · 4 years ago

Text

In A Day or Two-Ch. 31

Chapter 31

I was sure Kenny could feel my fingers trembling as we followed my mother. He squeezed my hand and drew it up to his lips, brushing a faint kiss on the knuckles. All I wanted was to turn and run, to snatch what personal stuff I could and follow Kenny back to Japan. To go back to when I had been happy, and the world of New York City was just a distant memory.

“Shaytan,” he whispered, leaning in close so that my mother wouldn’t hear. “It’s going to be fine. I promise, koibito. I’ve faced worse.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “No, you haven’t.” He squeezed my fingers playfully.

“Damon Alexander Walker,” my mother practically snarled as she rounded the corner into the formal sitting room. My heart slipped down past my stomach toward my toes. No one ever used this room unless they were pulling the old New York blue blood money card. “What in the world is wrong with you?”

“Mom, chillax,” came my brother’s voice. It was a little deeper and more gravely than it used to be. “It’s Shaye and her boyfriend. You’re the one who’s trying to act like there’s some big deal going on.”

I couldn’t help but feel a stab of affection for my baby brother. He was more trouble than he was worth sometimes, but I loved him. And he was exactly what I needed just then. My hand closed a little tighter on Kenny’s as we slipped into the room behind my mother.

My brother had thick, dark hair that settled in a mop of curls on his head. He had brown eyes that were calmer than his behavior suggested. He was all easy smiles and mischief, until it turned from innocent to criminal. Damon was everything the Hearst Walker dynasty wasn’t. Metal band t-shirts, ripped jeans, Chucks, skateboards, and spikes. My brother walked to the beat of his own drum, and my parents hated it.

“Sha-sha!” Damon said when I appeared from behind our mother. His face lit up in a bright, easy grin. He had on dark purple eyeliner and his fingernails were painted alternately white and black. I watched his eyes get bigger and brighter as he saw who was standing next to me. “Holy fucking shit!”

“Damon!” My mother hissed, cutting her eyes between my brother and Kenny. “Please, for the love of God, act as if you have some sense of propriety.”

I grinned, wanting to rush across the room and snatch him up in a hug. I loved my brother desperately in that moment, not only because he drew the attention from Kenny and me, but because he was desperately honest with himself in a way that I wished I were. Kenny squeezed my fingers and drew me closer. From the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Damon,” Kenny said, his voice bright with playfulness. “Shaytan has told me stories of your… adventures.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from grinning. Adventures was a nice way to put the trouble my brother had gotten into in his lifetime. My mother’s face went an interesting shade of puce as Damon smiled back. “Ah, betcha Sha-sha hid most of it. She’s always makin’ me look better than I am.”

“Your sister is the only one who sees any sort of promise in you,” my mother replied as she walked to a sidebar and poured herself a drink. “But God only knows why.”

She held a glass toward us, tipping her brows up as she offered. I waved my hand in dismissal. “No, thank you, Momma. Kenny doesn’t drink.”

“Straight edge?” Damon queried. Kenny dipped his head in agreement. “Right on. Power to you, dude.”

“It’s not an easy thing to do in my line of work,” Kenny responded. “But it’s worth it.”

“Good Lord,” my mother stage whispered. She splashed another shot of bourbon into her glass, swirling it around. She knocked it back and repeated the process.

I tugged Kenny across the room to sit on the sofa beside Damon. My brother’s eyes got wider as Kenny sank down in the space between us. “Seriously,” Kenny said as he sat back against the cushions. “You gotta get off that stuff. All of it.”

As the two of them slipped into a conversation, I turned my gaze toward the mahogany door that led to my father’s study. I was desperate for him to come into the room to save me from my mother and her blue blood insanity. Just as he always did when I was a child. It didn’t matter to him that he was a Pitzer, or that Mother was a Hearst, it only mattered that we were a family.

Sometimes, I wondered if that’s why he was away on business trips so much. Being a Hearst was the center of my mother’s identity—or it least it had become that way as I’d gotten older—and she seemed to spend more time flexing her Old Money than my father wanted. The pressure must have gotten to him more than he ever let on in front of us.

“Listen…” Kenny’s voice broke through the thoughts turning sideways in my head. “I’ll make you a deal, Damon. Get off it… all of it… and I’ll fly you to Japan. An entire week. And I’ll show you around, just like I did with Shaye.”

“Kenny…” I said carefully, drawing the word out. “I don’t think…”

My brother sat up straight, his face going serious. He watched Kenny for a few moments then nodded and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

Kenny gripped Damon’s fingers and smiled. “Stay outta trouble, and I’ll get you into the Tokyo Dome.”

Before any of us could say another word, the door of my father’s study opened, and he slipped into the formal sitting room. Jeremy Pitzer Walker was almost six foot four, his hair still thick and naturally dark at fifty-four. He had eyes a shade lighter than Damon’s, but the same easy smile. There was a soft curl to his mouth as he rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows.

“Well, sorry I’ve kept you. Hope you haven’t been waiting long,” my father said as he crossed the room. I saw Kenny wipe his palms on his pants before he stood. “No, please, don’t get up. I’m Jeremy, Shaye’s father.”

Kenny stood anyway, holding his hand out toward my father. The two of them shook hands, and I could see by my father’s slight nod that he was impressed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Call me Jeremy, please,” my father crooned, grinning as he leaned in. He gripped Kenny’s elbow and drew him a little closer. “I’m sorry about all this. Caroline goes a little overboard.”

I rolled my eyes and covered my mouth with my hand, coughing to stifle my laughter. Damon didn’t even try to hide it. “Overboard? Dad, Mom’s insane.” My brother turned toward Kenny and grinned. “The last time we used this room… it was a governor or something. Seriously…”

“At least one of us remembers that we have an image to uphold,” my mother replied, knocking back what I thought was her third or fourth whiskey. “God forbid the three of you act like you remember who you are.”

“We remember exactly who we are, darling,” my father said as he stepped over to my mother and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Has Noel finished dinner?”

Kenny looked sideways at me, his gaze sliding back and forth between me and my parents. “You have a cook?”

“And a maid. And a driver, but you’ve met him,” Damon answered, his grin getting bigger. “They’ve both got personal secretaries—but Dad works for an investment firm, so he needs one. Mom’s is mostly for… social engagements and society events. You know really ‘important’ stuff.”

Damon had no shame and absolutely no sense of self-preservation. I was one hundred percent certain that if Kenny hadn’t been there, my mother would have torn my little brother into shreds. I watched her grip her glass just as a petite blonde woman turned the corner. I cringed at the sight of her starched white jacket and black slacks. Jesus Christ, I thought as I rubbed my fingertips over my brow. She’s made Noel wear a uniform.

“Dinner is served,” Noel said formally. She looked stiff and uncomfortable. I hated everything about being a Hearst-Pitzer-Walker more in that moment than ever before.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @imagineall-the-fandoms @Waywardstrong @lilred91 @lakamaa12 @maelleoute @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @writtingrose @unabashedwrestlefics @hungmanhorsecarriage

#in a day or two #kenny omega #kenny omega fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #shaye walker #real person fanfiction #ofc #oc #new york #japan #japanese #strangers to friends to lovers #travel #boy meets girl #kenny x shaye #multi-chapter

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fallinnflower · 5 years ago

Text

all along

s.coups x reader (university!au, fake dating!au, friends-to-lovers)

a/n: the lovely @god1ess requested s.coups and “what did you expect,” and i, as per usual, went overboard. pls enjoy.

You like to think you know Choi Seungcheol better than most people. Although you’ve only been friends since starting university, you’ve spent enough time in each other’s presence to pick up on all the little idiosyncrasies in the other’s behavior — you can read his moods, you know when he’s lying, and his habits are practically yours at some points.

So when he asks if you can do him a favor on a Wednesday afternoon, you’re expecting that he forgot to do some paper assignment due Sunday and needs you to kick his ass into gear, not be his fake date to his cousin’s wedding that weekend.

“What?!” You’re so glad you aren’t in the library. Nobody in the quad gives a shit that you’ve just yelled that at Seungcheol, nor that you almost spit a mouthful of iced coffee on him.

“What do you mean, ‘what’?” Your doe-eyed friend asks innocently, passing you a napkin as you try to collect yourself. “What did you expect?”

“Not that,” you hiss in response. “Also — this weekend? Choi Seungcheol, do you have any idea how hard it’s gonna be to find something to wear in that amount of time?” While you’re running through the contents of your closet in your mind, a smile finds its way across your friend’s face. You hardly notice the mischievous glimmer in his eyes until he takes hold of your hand to get your attention.

“Does that mean we have a deal?” He asks. You slip your hand out of his grasp and (lightly) hit him on the back of the head; despite the lack of force you use, he still rubs it and pouts at you as though he’s in pain.

“On one condition,” you say, sternly. “Nobody ever hears about this. If I have to hear even one joke from Jeonghan or Joshua about this, I swear to god I will leak those photos of you from freshman orientation week, you hear me?” At the prospect of his embarrassing drunken antics being leaked to his ruthless group of friends, he nods solemnly, even going so far as to cross his heart.

“Good,” you say, leaning back in your seat. “Also, you’re paying for my coffees for the next week and a half.” With a sigh of defeat, Cheol nods.

And suddenly, you have yourself a wedding to attend.

You find out over lunch the following day that the reason he even needs a date is that the perpetual thorn in his side that is Yoon Jeonghan decided to tell Mama Choi that Seungcheol has a campus crush. This is news even to you — as is the fact that Jeonghan is on such friendly terms with Cheol’s mom — and considering Seungcheol’s relatively sparse track record in the dating scene you can’t say you’re surprised that news spread fast around his family. His cousin had actually called him earlier and demanded he ask his crush to be his plus one, and despite knowing nothing about this mysterious crush or if they even exist at all, you understand why Seungcheol had been sent into a panic over it all. It makes you feel almost honored he asked you, but then you think about all the work you’ll have to push aside for the wedding festivities and you find yourself irritated once again.

Not to mention you’re nervous. The immediate Choi family know exactly who you are — you’ve spent a handful of weekends at their house, so Cheol rolling up to the venue with you on his arm is going to be a very different sort of surprise.

Over the course of lunch, the conversation drifts into what you’ll be wearing, eventually ending with him reluctantly agreeing to accompany you shopping so you can match a tie to whatever dress you manage to pick out. You can’t understand why he expected you to have wedding-worthy attire on a college campus, but it’s his mistake anyways.

You manage to almost forget about the wedding until Friday afternoon rolls around and you’re walking down to Seungcheol’s car to head to the mall.

“You’re paying for bubble tea,” is all you say as you buckle yourself in, and he sighs in mock exasperation.

“I was going to anyway,” he replies. You can’t help but smile cheekily at him as he pulls away from the curb.

“I know. Just reminding you of your end of the deal.”

“Like I could forget.”

The rest of the car ride passes with your usual playful banter and loud singing, but you can’t help but feel nervous the closer you get to your destination. Seungcheol hasn’t really seen you dressed up ever, and there’s a distinct possibility he’s going to see you for the first time in a sub-par dress simply because the pickings might be slim. You’re on a budget, after all.

True to his word, Cheol pays for the bubble tea near the mall entrance before the two of you begin your journey to the department store — specifically, the clearance rack.

“It’s an evening reception, right?” You ask, rifling through the racks as Seungcheol holds onto both your drinks.

“Yeah,” he says. “Does that matter?” You merely nod in response, inspecting a dark blue maxi dress and trying to decide if it can qualify as wedding appropriate. Considering you aren’t in the wedding party, you don’t have to try too hard, but you also aren’t about to go down in the family’s books as Seungcheol’s frumpy wedding date. Ultimately, you take it off the rack and drape it carefully over your arm, continuing your way along the back wall.

After a solid half hour of searching (during which you take many breaks to sip on your drink and analyze certain dresses), you manage to find a half-dozen to try on. As you start heading into the dressing room, you halt at the door, holding the number the attendant gave you.

“Um, do you want me to come out and show them to you?” You ask. Seungcheol’s eyes widen momentarily, but he breaks into a huge grin.

“Of course I do! I’ll wait right out here.” Biting nervously onto your lower lip, you nod at him before making your way into the nearest available stall.

As expected from dresses that have been moved to the discount rack, there seems to be something wrong with the first few you try on. The blue one you had picked is too small, a red one chosen by Seungcheol is far too long to be worn even with heels — the first one you can manage to actually walk out of the room in is a purple halter-style dress that falls just to the tops of your feet. When you exit the room to show Seungcheol, he excitedly implores you to spin, practically beaming when he watches the gently flowing skirt settle around your legs.

“That’s it,” he says. “That’s the one.” You laugh, although you can’t help but blush at the bright gleam in his eyes as he gazes at you.

“It’s the only one you’ve seen,” you retort, but he doesn’t look dissuaded in the slightest.

“I don’t need to see any others, this one is perfect.” You catch the attendant smiling at your interaction out of the corner of your eye, and quickly find yourself agreeing with Seungcheol. With the dress decided on, you change back into your regular clothing, keeping hold of the dress and holding one hand out expectantly for your bubble tea as you leave.

“That was easy,” Seungcheol says, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Not so fast, you still need a tie to match this.” Your best friend groans good-naturedly, giving you an exaggerated pout.

“Do we have to? I’m sure I have one that matches, or Josh does—”

“I’m not about to take that risk,” you interrupt. “We are not about to show up to this wedding looking any less than perfect. I want everyone to have a good impression of me.” Cheol snorts as you begin leading him into the tie section.

“As if they’d think otherwise,” he says, standing so close behind you that you can feel his words rumbling through his chest. “They’re all going to love you.” Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you force yourself to shake it off. Grabbing two ties that look to be about the right shade of purple, you hold them up to the dress.

“Which of these do you like more?” You ask, feigning nonchalance. By the time Seungcheol is dropping you back off at your dorm, telling you he’ll pick you up at 2 the following afternoon, you feel as though you’ve run a marathon with the way your heart keeps racing.

Less than twenty-four hours from now, Seungcheol will be introducing you to family and friends as his ‘secret crush’ at his cousin’s wedding.

In less than thirty-six hours, you’ll both be single again. And you aren’t sure how you feel about it all.

Surprisingly, when Seungcheol comes to pick you up you feel oddly calm. Maybe it’s because you expelled all your nervous energy earlier today, but you even manage to find yourself feeling pretty excited about the whole event. You like weddings — there’s usually cute vows and good food and at least one dance you know how to participate in, and with those thoughts in mind you’re feeling pretty good.

“Wow,” Seungcheol breathes as you exit the dorm building. You find yourself giggling, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear like a nervous schoolgirl. “You look fantastic.”

“Thanks. You don’t look half bad yourself.” Your best friend playfully rolls his eyes at that and opens the car door for you, waiting until you’re settled in the passenger’s seat to shut it and come around to his side.

He also holds the door open for you once the two of you get to the venue, and you gladly take the arm he offers you as you approach the chapel. All the nerves suddenly come back in full-force as you realize that you’re going to actually be introduced to people in a matter of moments.

The two of you have barely stepped through the doors when Seungcheol’s parents begin calling out to their son. It’s his mother that recognizes you first, immediately opening her arms to you as you approach.

“Y/N!” She exclaims. “You look lovely! Have you gotten taller since I saw you last?” You chuckle, lingering in her reassuring, motherly embrace for a moment before pulling away.

“Just the heels, I’m afraid.” She laughs and moves to hug her son while Papa Choi gives you a quick hug before ushering you into the pew. Seungcheol takes his seat beside you, and, noticing your gaze nervously flitting around the room as many other pairs of eyes began to become trained on you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. You shoot him a grateful smile, and just then everyone is told to rise for the entrance of the bride. Even so, Seungcheol keeps hold of your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.

The ceremony itself is lovely. You know that Cheol caught you crying during the vows (a bit embarrassing considering you’ve never met the bride nor the groom, but when they started crying you couldn’t help it!), but he didn’t mention it later, which you were grateful for.

“You didn’t tell me your cousin was so pretty!” Is the first thing you say as the two of you get in his car to head to the reception. Seungcheol laughs, eyes scrunching up delightfully as he buckles himself in.

“Would that have mattered?” You pout,

“No, but it would have been nice to know she looks like a model, considering I’m gonna meet her later.” You pull down the sun visor and flick open the mirror, nervously inspecting your makeup for signs of tears. Seungcheol laughs and pulls your closest hand away from your hair, intertwining your fingers over the center console.

“You look great, Y/N, just relax.” You let out an exaggerated huff but shut the sun visor, focusing on the greenery you two pass as you make your way to the reception. Seungcheol gives your hand a squeeze,

“Just think of all the free food you’re about to have.”

That finally gets a smile out of you.

It turns out Seungcheol’s cousin is as sweet as she is pretty, and you feel starry-eyed watching her dance with her new husband. If you ever get to be that graceful and effortlessly wonderful after college, you’ll really have made it in life after all. Seungcheol sits beside you, shoulders brushing as the both of you are turned towards the dance floor. As the dance comes to a close and everyone begins clapping for the new couple, you lean in towards your date,

“I think I have a new favorite member of the Choi family.” Seungcheol pouts, turning to you.

“She isn’t even a Choi anymore!” You only giggle in response, taking a sip of your champagne.

With the first dance out of the way, the waiters begin serving the first course of the meal, and you fall into easy conversation with your table. Conveniently, nobody asks too many questions about the specifics of yours and Seungcheol’s ‘relationship,’ since his parents and the aunt and uncle sitting with you have seen you on his social media. You spend the dinner course drinking champagne and eating to your heart’s content, bonding almost too easily with Seungcheol’s aunt. Eventually, though, your conversation is interrupted by the cutting of the cake — which, really, is pretty welcome considering how long you’ve all had to sit looking at it on its big table.

Once the cake has started to get properly cut, the three men offer to bring back cake for their respective dates, and you feel your heart flip slightly at the term being directed towards you. Seungcheol’s aunt excuses herself to go speak with the bride and her mother, leaving just you and Mama Choi at the table.

“I knew it,” Seungcheol’s mom says, watching as Seungcheol and his dad laugh their way through the dessert line to bring cake back for the table.

“Knew what?” You ask, turning your fond gaze from the pair. Seungcheol’s mom smiles warmly at you, gently nudging you with her elbow.

“That you two would end up together. He was smitten from the start, I could tell from the way he talked about you. I didn’t think it would take this long for him to make a move, but, as soon as Jeonghan told me Cheollie had a crush, I knew it was you.” She chuckles good-naturedly, gaze drifting back to her husband and son. You find yourself following her gaze, hoping that the dim lighting does enough to cover your red cheeks as Seungcheol turns and flashes you a grin, sending your heart into a frenzy.

The moment he turns away, you cast your gaze downward and take a sip of your water, examining the tablecloth as you try to calm your racing heart. How naive were you — the both of you — to think that this was just a silly game? When all was said and done, you realized, things couldn’t be the same. There would be no way to explain to his family how you so quickly slipped in and out of a romantic relationship without any residual awkwardness. All these people would think differently of you from now on — no matter how amicable the fabricated breakup was, you would always be the girl that broke their Seungcheol’s heart.

Even though you can see Cheol and his dad beginning their trek back to the table, you excuse yourself and slip away to the back, ignoring your fake boyfriend’s worried gaze on the back of your head.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Seungcheol is waiting for you outside the bathroom when you emerge, brows furrowed in concern and a pout tugging at his lips. Although you had known to expect it, you still don’t feel prepared to face him, feeling your chest tighten the moment his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks, gently brushing strands of hair away from your eyes. You watch as his gaze carefully traces your features, the backs of his fingers pressed to your forehead. “You look really pale.” If he wasn’t frowning before, he certainly is now, and you nervously clench your hands into fists, feeling your nails biting into your palms.

“No,” you whisper, voice shaky. “No, I’m not okay. Cheol, what were we thinking?” Although you’d just spent minutes in the bathroom talking yourself down from the verge of tears and schooling your breathing, you can already feel the stinging in your eyes begin again. You sniff loudly and blink up at the ceiling, only looking back down when Seungcheol’s hands gently grasp your face and force you to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean?” He asks. “Did somebody say something? If someone was rude—” You shake your head, closing your eyes as you feel the first tears welling up to your lashes. Cheol’s thumbs gently swipe under your eyes, catching the teardrops before they can fall.

“Everyone has been so nice to me,” you say, softly, afraid if you speak louder your voice will crack, “They’re going to hate me when this is over, Cheol, we didn’t think this through.” Your best friend doesn’t say a word, just gently pulls you into his arms as you struggle to keep yourself from sobbing.

“You should’ve listened to your cousin,” you whisper. “You should’ve asked your crush and then at least you wouldn’t have been lying about who you brought. Even if she’d said no, you would’ve been able to tell them the truth—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts, his hold on you tightening for a brief moment. He runs a reassuring hand up and down the length of your spine, the other cradling the back of your head, engulfing you in his familiar warmth. Eventually, you manage to get your breathing under control, but as you begin to pull away your surprised to find that Seungcheol simply moves so both his arms are around your waist, keeping you close to him.

Before you can manage to form a coherent question, Seungcheol lets out a nervous sigh and glances up at you through his lashes.

“I know this is probably the worst time to tell you this but, um, I actually did ask my crush to come with me.” You cock your head to one side slightly, wondering why his cheeks are turning so pink at this confession.

“And they said no? Who was it?” You immediately feel guilty for asking, but Seungcheol doesn’t look sad when his gaze lifts to meet yours — in fact, his eyes seem to be sparkling, his face even redder than before.

“No,” he says. “They said yes, technically.”

“What?” You ask, scrunching your face up in confusion. “If they said yes, then why am I here?”

“That’s the thing,” he starts, grinning sheepishly at you. He lifts one hand from your back to cradle your cheek, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “It is you. To be honest, I thought I was pretty obvious.”

For a moment, all you can do is blink up at Seungcheol, looking for any hint of dishonesty in his face even though you know this isn’t the sort of thing he would joke about. You aren’t really sure what to do, to be honest. It would be a lie to say you’d never considered Seungcheol in a more than friendly light, but after being friends for so long you had assumed it was a hopeless endeavor. You can feel your heart start racing again, the tips of your ears and your cheeks warming up with an impending blush — so, like the child you are, you let out a whine and hide your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“You jerk,” you complain, voice half muffled by Cheol’s embrace. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I got worried for no reason!” The laughter that serves as his reply feels as though it rumbles through your own chest as he hugs you tighter, his hand continuing to rub up and down your back. You feel a soft, warm touch on the crown of your head and look up in surprise, finding Seungcheol positively beaming down at you.

“So, does that mean you’re okay with being my girlfriend officially?” He asks, the cheeky grin on his face telling you he already knows the answer. You sigh and loop your arms around his neck, though you aren’t quite able to keep yourself from smiling as you gaze into his eyes.

“Fine,” you reply, gently reaching up with one hand to fix his hair. He turns his head and presses a quick kiss to your wrist, before leaning in to capture your lips with his own. The moment is perfect as you both pull away, foreheads pressed together, yet you can’t help but tease him like always, a devilish smile curling at your lips,

“But your cousin is still my new favorite Choi.” Seungcheol lets out a whine and pouts, but he brightens up a bit when you press a kiss to his cheek and remind him,

“Come on, we still have cake to eat.”

Maybe Seungcheol’s mom was right all along.

#scoups scenario #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #seventeen texts #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #kpop fanfiction #kpop reactions #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop texts #My writing

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years ago

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The Necronomicon For Babies

Sequel to the one-shot: A Soul For Two

Summary: Sequel to the one-shot, "A Soul For Two", we find Maze and the others exactly one year later after the infamous demon became a mother. As the party prepares to celebrate little Eden's first birthday, an unexpected guest shows up on Chloe's and Lucifer's doorstep. A certain someone from Maze's past. A clue as to who Eden's father could really be.

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: A sequel to my mini fic (two chapters) "A Soul For Two" in which we visit Maze a year after she became a mom. As everyone gathers to celebrate the now one year old Eden's birthday, an unexpected stranger from Maze's past shows up on Chloe's and Lucifer's front door step. What drama will ensue?! Here's part one! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

Part One

Bubbly. That's the one word Mazikeen Smith would use to describe her daughter's nursery. If it had been up to her, the design would be more dark. Abysmal. But in the best, loving way possible. If it had been left up to her, Eden's room would've depicted the very essence of Hell. Apparently though, according to all of her friends-even Lucifer, who took Chloe's side-said that wasn't appropriate for a child. Instead it was filled with shades of pinks and purples, toys both plush and academic, and more frilly outfits than the demon could count.

"Surely you're going to dress her in something more...well, happier than that." Linda commented as the demon struggled to put the squirming baby into a black, velveteen dress. "It's her first birthday party, not a funeral."

"The head bow has sequins on it. That's as extreme as I'm willing to go." The demon replied, finally getting her daughter situated in the outfit. "There, I see absolutely nothing wrong with that." She motioned at the baby who had taken to chewing on her own fist. "I didn't even get a birthday party as a kid. Much less dressed for one. Black is the new...well, black."

The therapist, though incredulous of her best friend's tastes, sighed in defeat. "I guess the sparkles do help." She smiled as Eden's dark eyes met hers. "It seems like only yesterday that she was born."

"You humans and your perspective of time…" Maze tutted, lifting the one year old up. "Have you heard from Chloe? I told her I didn't want her to go overboard with this. Especially since she went behind my back and told Ella of all people she could help." The demon sighed and studied her daughter carefully. "As long as those decorations are put away for the day. It's Eden's birthday, not...it's her day."

Christmas. The word Maze couldn't bring herself to say. If she had to rank human holidays from least to greatest, Christmas would be in the negatives with Halloween at the top. Perhaps she had gone a little overboard with Eden's costume that year. It wasn't as if someone told her zombie babies weren't all the rage that year. So what if she overindulged just a little with the fake blood? For someone playing the part of "the undead" she was the cutest rotting corpse in all of the cemetery. At least Trixie thought it was cool.

"I've been in contact with her this whole time." Linda assured her. "Just birthday decor, other stuff's been set aside until after you leave. Funny enough, Trixie's been more excited for all of this than opening her own presents…" The therapist paused for a moment. "I was told you gave her something...unexpected."

"Hm?" Maze inquired, fixated on stuffing the diaper bag. "Oh, you mean the tecpatl. Just an Aztec blade I found in my mother's stuff. Come to think of it, it might've been used on her. Anyway, it was one of the few things of hers I took. Thought I could do something with it and Trixie seems to appreciate my choice in weaponry more than the rest of you."

"Trixie is also thirteen and could easily get expelled from school if she accidentally left it in her pocket during class." Her friend retorted. "Knives aren't for kids, Maze."

"I know." The demon replied, rolling her eyes. "You haven't seen Eden with one yet."

"And I hope it stays that way for a long while." Linda answered, letting out a soft, nervous chuckle. "I will say though, Maze, motherhood has looked great on you. I mean, Eden has flourished. Surpassing most of her milestones. I actually feel a little guilty for the doubt I felt in the beginning." She paused before quickly adding. "Just a teeny, tiny amount of concern."

"Well, I'm not Lilith." Her friend answered, slightly insulted by Linda's comment. "I remember how I was raised and made a promise to myself that I wouldn't subject Eden to that." She grinned as she held the baby to her face. "No abandonment in Hell for you, my precious sinner."

"We seriously need to work on better nicknames." The therapist snorted as she grabbed her purse. "Most people might not take it the right way when you call a baby a sinner."

"Amenadiel already lectured me last week when he heard me call her a fallen angel despite the affection behind it." Maze muttered. "I mean, Chloe calls Trixie "Monkey". What kind of name is that? And you with Charlie…"Peanut"? Where's the creativity? Never mind," she shook her head. "I'll think of something eventually that is at least reasonably acceptable to the general public."

The drive to Chloe's was mostly quiet, Eden having fallen asleep mere moments after Linda started the car. Maze gazed out the passenger side window thoughtfully, watching as the trees whizzed by and became buildings. Something was on her mind. Something unsettling that she just couldn't quite put her finger on. Perhaps it simply was due to it being Christmas. The demon had always despised the holiday. On more than one occasion than she was unwilling to admit, she'd nearly impaled Dan's hand with a fork when he jokingly called her a Scrooge-and even the Grinch reincarnated. Though she did look good in green.

"Something on your mind?" Linda inquired, tearing Maze away from her thoughts. "You look worried."

"I'm fine." She mumbled, inhaling deeply. "Just taking the day in...it's a big one."

"Not everyday your kid turns one." Her friend agreed with a smile as they turned into the parking lot. "I remember Charlie's so well. I can't believe we went with the Cookie Monster cake. I was scrubbing blue stains out of his clothes for hours. That icing had so much dye in it, it turned his poop blue. Nearly gave Amenadiel a heart attack. He thought something was wrong."

"Amenadiel's anxiety is almost unbearable." The demon replied, folding her arms over her chest. "I don't know how you do it. I know so many women in Hell who've killed their spouses simply because they drive them mad."

"I'm a therapist." Linda chuckled as she turned off the car. "I'm equipped to deal with that sort of thing. And besides, it's kind of sweet in a way…" She stepped out of the car, eyes glancing at a set of balloons bound to a doorknob. "Even if in the beginning, he literally tried to take my son to Heaven without me. Not the best moment in our relationship."

"Well, if you ever do decide to off him." Maze said, leaving her own seat to retrieve Eden. "I'll help you dispose of the body. Trust me, when I'm done, it'll be untraceable."

"...I'll keep that in mind…" Her friend responded slowly, a little disturbed by the woman's words. "But I think I'm good."

"All the same." The demon stated, Eden's face scrunching up as the sunlight hit it. Maze pulled the canopy down and the baby seemed to drift back to sleep. "What are friends for?"

"Why don't you go on and take her inside?" Linda suggested, quickly changing the conversation. "I'll grab the presents from the trunk. Looks like Amenadiel's car is already here, you can send him out to help. I'm sure Charlie is fine in his playpen. We got him this new toy that speaks French. Fingers crossed he can start picking up some of the language."

"I told you, I'd be more than happy to teach him Lilim." Maze called over her shoulder as she lugged the baby seat towards the stairs. "Perfect for whenever he decides he wants to visit Hell."

"After what happened when he was born. I don't want him stepping a foot near that place." Her friend answered. "A trip to France when he is old enough is good enough for me...but I appreciate the offer as always."

"Well, if you decide otherwise, it's still on the table." Maze smirked. "Though, I can equally be a translator if he ever wants a trip down there. Maybe with Amenadiel. Lucifer told me how it made him squirm. How I'd love a good show."

"I love you, but you do have a way of scaring me sometimes, Mazikeen," Linda replied. "It's a good thing we're friends."

"Yes," the demon agreed. "It's a very good thing."

Black. Blue. Red. A smidge of pink. No purple. For a split second, Maze was convinced she had walked into the wrong party until a certain girl came sprinting across the floorboards. Trixie Espinoza sporting pigtails painted with blue and pink hair chalk, smudged eye makeup, a ridiculous amount of red lipstick, and a familiar costume grinned widely at her.

"I'm Harley Quinn!" She stated as if it needed to be known. "Mom thought you wouldn't want a normal birthday for Eden, so I thought this would be cool!" She motioned around the room. "Do you like it?! Harley Quinn is awesome! She kicks as-butt, like you!" Trixie peered into the carrier. "Awe, she's asleep?" There was disappointment in her voice. "She's gonna wake up, right?"

As if summoned by the girl's words, Eden's eyes slowly opened and her mouth formed a surprisingly wide yawn. Maze undid the clips that strapped the baby into the seat and lifted her up into the air. This certainly hadn't been what she was expecting, but she was not about to argue against the theme.

"Normally, I would've assumed you'd have shown her this movie. But the guilty party this time is Lucifer."

Chloe smiled as she exited the kitchen, attention fixed on her honorary niece. She wore an apron, but it didn't appear to be as messy as one might assume when someone cooks. It was only when the demon saw the Devil peer out from behind the wall and note the smudges of flour and icing on his sleeves and shirt did she realize the true chef. The mastermind behind the whole feast.

"Be thankful one of us knows how to properly bake." Lucifer smirked as he wiped his hands on a dishrag. "The Detective's cupcakes were looking a little on the failed Pinterest side."

"Cake is cake." Chloe huffed, elbowing her boyfriend lightly. "Looks can be deceiving. They might even taste better than yours...despite the melted frosting."

"Believe what you will." Her partner smiled. "But I am the ruler of the kitchen and my reign has yet to be taken over. Although, brownie points towards your egg toast."

"Uncle Luci has no idea what he's talking about." The Detective crooned, tickling one of the baby's feet. "He's just insecure about his own baking abilities and tries to hide it." She straightened up so that she was face to face with Maze. "May I?"

"Pretty sure she has a dirty diaper, but sure." The demon replied, gingerly handing the baby over. "You guys didn't have to do all of this."

"We're family, Maze." Chloe smiled. "And trust me, this is just…"

"OH MY GOD!"

The adults and Trixie turned to see Ella, her costume in much greater detail than Trixie's, standing in the doorway. Behind her Dan juggled what looked like to be a few boxes of presents and a tub of ice cream. The overly excited scientist nearly tripped over her own to feet as she made her way over to the group.

"I just saw you last week and it's like you've gotten bigger since!" Ella gushed, adjusting Eden's bow. "Stop growing up so fast! You're going to make me cry!" She looked from Chloe to Maze. "Can I hold her?! Let me hold her!"

"Gotta wait your turn," Chloe stated. "I just got her."

"You suck, Decker." Ella pouted before her attention was redirected to Trixie. "Costume buddies!" And Maze couldn't help but roll her eyes and slightly smile as the two high fived. Humans. "Anyway, Amenadiel is out there helping Linda. Can I assist in any way?"

"Charlie's in the other room in his playpen where Trixie is supposed to be watching him." The Detective said eyeing her daughter. "Maybe make sure he isn't getting into anything?"

"He's fine, Mom." Trixie said with a wave of her hand. "I put Spongebob on. Amenadiel had Discovery Channel on and it was too boring. He seems to like it better anyways."

"All the same," Chloe continued. "He's a toddler and they like to get into things. The last thing we need is for something like that to happen." Her eyes flickered over to Dan who was still trying not to drop his items. "Remember when Trixie was three and somehow got into the medicine cabinet and drank half a bottle of cough syrup?"

"Poison Control probably thought someone was murdered the way you were panicking." Dan laughed slightly out of breath. "Can I maybe put these somewhere?"

"I don't know, I'm rather enjoying watching you play circus, Daniel." Lucifer sneered, earning him a glare from Chloe. "Alright, alright, fine. I suppose the kitchen table will do for the gifts and the ice cream in the freezer obviously." He shook his head and turned to his partner once the other man was out of sight. "Did we really have to invite him?" Another glower. "Fine, fine. I'll go do something to keep myself busy. Perhaps Amenadiel and Linda need help."

"I made Linda a similar offer earlier." Maze began as Chloe bounced Eden in her arms. "If you need me to dispose of Lucifer, just say the word."

"I think Mama needs to go out on a few bounties." The Detective cooed, staring at the demon as she spoke to the infant. "You can stay here for a few nights and we'll be just fine and dandy, isn't that right, Eden?"

Maze frowned at the woman's words. "I'm perfectly fine." She informed her, reaching forward to snatch her daughter back. "Right now, I am more than happy to focus on my kid...there will always be other jobs."

Though as the weeks turned into months, she had grown weary of sitting around the house. A thought that made her feel guilty. An idea that it was wrong of her to want to work instead of staying back with her child and focusing her attention there.

"Maze," Chloe's voice was softer this time. "It's been a year. There is no shame going back to work."

"I said I'm fine!" The demon insisted almost forcefully. "I'll go when I'm ready and right now...right now, I have things to do. Important things." Her stare met Eden's and the baby smiled. She did her best to return the gesture, but the thoughts of diapers and midnight bottles crossed her mind as they often did. "We're happy."

Before the Detective could open her mouth to reply, Linda, Amenadiel, and Lucifer stepped through the front door. Eden giggled, though she most likely had no idea that the boxes the adults carried were gifts for her. The thoughts left Maze's mind as the presents were piled on to one another. This was way more than the demon had expected. Almost excessive.

"Did you guys buy an entire store?" Maze half joked as she took it all in. "The kid's favorite thing at the moment is a spoon. Really, you didn't…"

"We know." They all said in unison.

Maze just shook her head in disbelief and bounced Eden in her arms. "You're a lucky kid." She commented, looking at the others. "Why don't we get this party started?"

And, like clockwork, as if the world and fate itself knew, there came a knock at the door. A knock that caused that bubbling in the pit of Maze's stomach to start up again. Chloe looked around confused as if recounting all of the guests.

"Did someone order something?"

Curiously, the Detective made her way to the front door and opened it. Maze felt her blood run cold, arms tightening around Eden as she stared dumbfounded at the stranger who gazed back equally as shocked. A man she hadn't seen well over a year. Someone she hadn't wanted to see at all.

Ben Rivers.

#Lucifer #Lucifer Morningstar #Chloe Decker #Mazikeen #Deckerstar #Maze x Ben #Ben Rivers #The Necronomicon For Babies #Maze

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flowerfan2 · 4 years ago

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Group Texts Are Ridiculous (Or, Five-0 Starts a Group Text)

Somehow I managed to post Chapter 2 on A03 a few days ago without posting on tumblr... I’m not sure how many people actually depend on tumblr for fic these days, but in case you do, here you go!

McDanno, T, A03

Summary: After 10x22 when Steve leaves Oahu to go find himself, Five-0 starts a group text to keep in touch while Steve’s away. Picks up after the end of Season 10.

Chapter 2

May 20, 2020

SM: Hey, where’s Danny?

LG: With Tani, I think, heading to a crime scene on the north shore. Sure glad to have him back. Otherwise it would have been me getting up at the ass crack of dawn when Duke called.

SM: Does Danny seem ready?

LG: Ready to come back to work? Sure. Shirts are crisp, slacks nicely pressed, hair sprayed firmly in place. Your boy looks great.

SM: Ribs not hurting him anymore?

LG: Maybe a little, but it’s not slowing him down much.

SM: He hasn’t been answering my texts.

LG: Did you do something to piss him off?

SM: Probably. I usually do. Not sure what this time, though.

TR: Don’t stress, boss. Danny’s right here, looking sharp as always. we’re in the car.

SM: Tani, what have I said about no driving and texting?

TR: I’m not - Danny’s driving.

SM: Can I talk to him? Put it on speaker.

TR: That would require you to actually call him. Maybe give it a few minutes though? We’re a little busy right now.

SM: What, he can’t drive and talk on the phone at the same time?

TR: It’s the dodging of bullets that might make that challenging. Not that Danny isn’t a great multi-tasker, but it seems like an unnecessary risk.

SM: Tani, what the hell is going on?

LG: Damn. On my way.

SM: Tani, report, now.

JR: What just happened?

SM: Junior, why aren’t you with Danny? And where’s Quinn?

JR: Day off, sorry sir.

SM: Someone call HPD, why don’t you have any back up?

TR: No worries, the perp’s not chasing us anymore. His car flipped over and sort of slid down the dunes. Probably not good for the birds. But he definitely stopped shooting, so it’s all good.

DW has changed the name of the group text to My Camaro has another bullet hole and it’s Steve’s fault

May 21, 2020

SM: We have to talk about yesterday.

DW: Everything’s fine, Steve.

SM: It didn’t sound like it.

DW: We had it under control.

SM: Why was Tani texting when people were shooting at you? She should have been covering you, or calling for back up. She should have seen it coming. You should never have been in that position in the first place.

DW: One, Tani did nothing wrong, and two, mind your own beeswax.

SM: Mind my own – what’s that supposed to mean?

DW: Think about it for a minute, you’ll figure it out.

SM: Are you even recovered enough for active duty?

DW: Oh, now you’re interested in my health?

SM: Danny, Five-0 is still my team, my responsibility.

DW: Is it, now? Funny, because I’m pretty sure the governor told me I’m in charge.

SM: Temporarily.

DW: Indefinitely. Or have you booked a flight home that you haven’t told us about?

SM: Danny, we’ve been over this.

DW: Don’t I know it.

SM: I’m just concerned about all of you.

DW: Great. Come home and take your job back. Otherwise keep your mouth shut.

SM: I’m not criticizing, it’s just that it doesn’t seem like yesterday went exactly according to plan.

DW: According to plan? Since when have you ever done anything according to plan? You are the head of not having a plan, the Czar of plan-less-ness, the President of who needs a fucking plan.

LG: You guys do remember this is a group text, right?

June 2, 2020

JR: Do any of you know what was in the package Danny got today?

TR: You could just ask him.

JR: I would, but he opened it up and then locked himself in his office and he’s been on the phone for half an hour.

QL: Might be a sign that he wants some privacy.

TR: You think?

JR: So I shouldn’t ask him?

TR: No, you should definitely ask him. But maybe bring him some malasadas when you barge into his office, it might soften the blow.

LG: Or distract him enough that he doesn’t hit your head when he throws something at you.

DW: It’s kind of late for malasadas, but I’d love a sandwich from Machete’s. Turkey and salami, Italian dressing instead of mayo.

JR: Yes sir.

LG: You’re enjoying this boss thing, aren’t you, Danny?

DW: It’s good to be king. At least where lunch is concerned.

TR: So are you going to tell us what was in the package?

DW: Will you do my paperwork for the week?

TR: Yesterday you said I was worse at paperwork than Steve.

DW: Good point. Will you get Junior to do my paperwork?

JR: Hey, wait a minute, I’m getting the sandwiches.

TR: Deal. Don’t worry Junes, I’ll make it worth your while.

LG: TMI, children.

…

LG: Tani, spill. What was in the package?

DW: A stuffed squirrel. A stuffed animal. Not, like, a once was alive squirrel, like a toy.

QL: Who sent it to him?

TR: Apparently that piece of information wasn’t part of the deal.

JR: It’s from Steve.

TR: Danny told you?

JR: No, I looked at the return address. He put the package in the recycle bin in the break room.

DW: At least someone here has some detective skills.

LG: Okay, I’ll bite. Danny, why did Steve send you a squirrel? Is it for Charlie?

DW: Nope, it’s mine. And anyone who touches it is dead.

JR: So… who’s gonna grab it?

LG: Junior, I’d think twice. Danny’s got the power to assign you to walking the beat for the rest of the summer. I think that squirrel looks great right there where it is on Danny’s desk.

TR: He can be our honorary Five-0 mascot.

DW: Exactly. The very first Hawaiian squirrel.

DW: But let me reiterate, you may not touch him. If I see a tiny aloha shirt or a lei on my squirrel, heads will roll.

TR: I like this side of you, Danny. Very authoritative.

DW: The children do not respect me, Lou.

LG: Didn’t the governor say he needed extra security at that concert Saturday night?

DW: The heavy metal battle of the bands? The one that lasts for five hours, and features not just professional bands, but appearances from some of the most popular amateur head-banging groups around? Hm, I think he did. I was going to check with HPD to make sure it was covered. Do you think they need personal attention from Five-0?

TR: Danny, you might notice that a note has just been slipped under your door. It’s from me and Junior, attesting to our sincere understanding that the squirrel is off limits. Just in case you were wondering.

DW: And all is right with the world again.

LG: Amen, brother.

TR: But just out of curiosity, what are you going to name your apology squirrel? Pineapple?

DW: Thin ice, my friend, thin ice.

TR has changed the name of the group text to First Hawaiian Squirrel Fan Club

June 20, 2020

JR: Anyone want to come over and watch Jurassic Park with me and Charlie? We went a little overboard with the snacks.

LG: What kind of snacks?

JR: Primarily pretzels. For some reason I had never really looked that closely at the pretzel aisle at Foodland before. We got chocolate covered pretzels, pretzels stuffed with peanut butter, honey garlic pretzels, and probably some others too.

TR: What brought on this pretzel craving?

JR: Actually Charlie wanted pineapple pretzels.

LG: There is no such thing.

JR: That’s what I thought too, but it turns out I was totally wrong. The ABC store on my block has them.

LG: You are shitting me.

JR: They’re called Pretz. Pineapple flavor. They’re actually pretty good.

LG: Okay, I’m coming over just to taste those. Renee’s out tonight anyway.

TR: You’ll have to save me some. I’m hanging with Koa tonight.

LG: And what does our fearless leader think about pineapple pretzels?

JR: He probably won’t like them, but he’s not home.

TR: Babysitting, Junes?

JR: Charlie’s my pal, he’s not a baby. But yeah.

TR: Where’s Danny?

JR: On a date.

TR: That seems unlikely.

JR: That’s kind of harsh, isn’t it? Danny’s a good looking guy.

TR: Of course he is, that’s not what I meant.

DW: Thanks.

TR: Fuck I keep forgetting we’re all on this text.

JR: Danny, how’s your date going?

DW: It would probably be going better if I wasn’t texting you guys.

SM: Learned that lesson finally, did you?

DW: Steve, isn’t it a little late where you are?

SM: Never too late to help out a friend. Are you wearing the French blue button-down?

DW: No, it got ruined. I’m just wearing a black polo.

SM: Too bad, that’s a great shirt.

DW: I’m going to the mall tomorrow, there’s a sale at Lord & Taylor, I need new shirts. For some reason mine keep getting blood stains on them.

SM: Wish I could go with you, you do better with a wingman.

DW: It’s true, you talked me into buying two of those slim fit dark blue ones, and those are some of my favorites.

SM: Don’t be afraid to try darker shades, Danny. You resist it but in the end you look great.

DW: I did like the dark gray one you made me try on. But not the purple one. It made me look like a gigolo. Anyway blue’s still my favorite.

SM: It’s true, nothing makes your eyes sparkle like a blue shirt.

DW: And good company, of course.

LG: I feel like this thread has been hijacked by aliens.

TR: Aliens who like menswear. Danny, isn’t your date annoyed that you’re spending all this time texting?

DW: Oh, she left. I’ll be home soon, I’m just picking up some ice cream for the Jurassic Park marathon.

JR: I’m so confused.

SM: Don’t overthink it. But make sure Danny tries the pineapple pretzels.

#mcdanno #H50 #H50 fic #Hawaii Five-0 #Danny Williams #Steve McGarrett

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random-imagines-blog · 5 years ago

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Never Wanted to Dance {Bucky Barnes x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @fandommemporiumm Wordcount: 3045 Summary: You, a rather shy agent, have a crush on the bad boy of the group. What will he do when he finds out?

You shot up from bed, your pajamas soaked in sweat, though you felt like you were freezing. The room was dark, save for the soft moonlight barely shining through your window, and the electronic alarm clock next to your bed which read ‘5:19‘. You took in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. The dream had been worse than the usual ones, and you had no idea how Steve ever put up with them. He was the only person that you had told about these nightmares that you were having about losing Bucky, and he related to them strongly, having had his own after he thought he lost Bucky during the war. Steve was also the only one who knew about your feelings for his best friend, and he promised to keep them secret, for now. Your hand went to your chest to feel your heart, which was still going crazy like a Motley Crue song. Those blue eyes closing in your dream, for the last time it felt like, as Bucky died in your arms - there was no way you were going to get back to sleep tonight.

You stood up and slipped on your favorite slippers - thick with fleece and made you feel like you were walking on a cloud. They were a gift from Nat for Christmas, and you wore them all year round. They were also quiet against the hardwood of the floor that you and the rest of the Avengers took up in Stark Tower. You made your way towards the kitchen, picking at your nail polish, still nervous from the dream that you had. The lights were already on, signaling that someone was in the kitchen, which seemed weird for it being this early in the morning.

The Metallic Teddy Bear himself, as you and Wanda called him behind his back, was standing against the counter, staring blankly forward as he spooned cereal into his mouth. Bu304cky, with his hair in a messy bun against the nape of his neck, managed to make this somehow look amazing. He was using his real hand, you noticed, while his metal arm hung limply to his side. You noticed a lot of things about Bucky from your time shyly (admiring) watching him, and one of those things was that he only seemed to use his metal arm for combat, never for every day things if he could help it.

“Did you want some?” His gruff voice asked, catching you offguard. Clearly he noiticed you while you were just standing there. Your cheeks flushed pink as you made yourself better known, walking into the kitchen.

“No thank you,” You said, going to the fridge and removed your waterbottle. You filled it the night before then put it in the fridge to chill, rather than using a plastic bottle. You avoided looking at him as you popped up the top and took a cool, refreshing drink.

“Trouble sleeping?” He questioned further. He was always very kind to you, which only made your crush on him grow.

“Yeah, just a little,” You said. The silence in the room grew heavy. You recalled your dream and felt your heart start to beat heavy once more.

“Chamomile,” Bucky grunted. You turned slightly to look at him, your head tilted at the word that came out of his mouth. “If you have problems sleeping. It’s what Steve always uses. He keeps some in that cupboard,” He pointed towards one that usually held herbs and spices.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” You eyed the cupboard, but knew that you were going to stay awake for the rest of the day. You gave Bucky a faint smile and made your way out of the kitchen, leaving him alone once again. He watched you as you turned the corner and went out of sight before he finally returned the smile. Steve, as loyal as he could be, had brought up ‘your big secret’ during a conversation with you while Bucky was in the room. You hadn’t noticed that Bucky was there, but he’d heard everything. He hadn’t thought of you much before, you were usually quiet and tended to spend your time more with the girls than around him. And Steve. He and Nat had taken you under their wing, he had noticed.

Later on that day, you were getting ready to go out with Wanda and Nat. It wasn’t for a mission, but for a shopping trip since there was an upcoming party that Tony was throwing, and you didn’t have anything suitable. At least not by Nat’s standards. And Wanda was coming along to make sure that the redhead didn’t go overboard and try to put you in something that you wouldn’t be comfortable in.

While you were slipping your feet into your boots, you felt a warm fabric wrap itself around your neck. Being a member of the Avengers meant that you were always on your guard, and so you shot your arm up through the fabric so it could not tighten itself around your neck, and kicked in the direction that it was coming from, getting someone in the leg. There was a loud groan, and then some laughter as you untangled the fabric from yourself and threw it on the ground. Only after the danger of it was over did you see who, and what, it was - and you were utterly mortified.

“Oh - Bucky - I-” You stammered, then got on your knees beside the fallen soldier. “You scared me! Are you alright?”

“You’ve got a strong kick,” Bucky said, rubbing where your boot had collided with his shin. “Remind me to never scare you again.”

“You’re such a moron,” Nat snorted. She picked up what you had thrown on the ground and held it in front of him questioningly. “What’s with the scarf?”

“It’s cold out,” Bucky shrugged. He stood up, then offered you his fleshy hand to help you up to your feet as well, which you took with a flush of the cheeks. He then looked over at you and said something in Russian, which you weren’t able to understand. You looked over at Nat for a translation, only to find that her hand was in front of her mouth and she was chuckling. She said something back to him in the language, and he said something back, before patting your arm and walking away.

“What just happened?” Wanda asked, looking at Bucky’s retreating back.

“Barnes has just very kindly given y/n his scarf,” Nat said, then snapped her fingers twice. “Come on, let’s go, we’ve got dresses to buy.”

Natasha had the same attitude towards shopping as she did to missions. Go in quickly and fiercely, eliminate any competition by standing guard at the nicer racks, extract the best item possible, and then get out there. Wanda was more of a browse the racks that had her favorite colors on them rather than branch out into other things, so she was mostly looking at the darker shades. And you? You just stood in between them, fiddling with a loose strand at the end of the scarf that you put back around your neck and was keeping you warm. It smelled of Bucky, though you couldn’t pinpoint how. Almost like plums.

“But really, what did he say exactly?” You implored of Natasha as she tossed a dress over your shoulder. At least she knew well enough to stick to more neutral tones. But then she pulled out a blue gown and held it up against you then nodded approvingly.

“That’s enough for you to try on for now,” She avoided your question.

“I don’t think that’s what he said,” Wanda said, clearly just as curious as you were. Natasha sighed and saw that you weren’t going to go into the dressing room until she answered you. And since the three of you were in public, it wasn’t the best time for her to use force.

“He said he didn’t want your pretty neck to get cold,” Natasha answered, and shoved you into a dressing room. Good thing too, for you didn’t want the rest of the store patrons to see how red your face had just become. It showed in the mirror though, which made you turn into the human version of tomato soup. “So how long has this been going on?”

“How long has what been going on?” You asked, pulling the scarf off slowly and hung it up carefully on one of the hooks. You didn’t want anything to happen to it. Then you undid your coat and pulled your sweater up over your head.

“You and Bucky,” Wanda said, tossing a necklace over the top of the dressing room door. “Here, this will go great with it.”

“There isn’t anything going on. I mean, we sort of had a moment in the kitchen when he told me about chamomile tea but...”

“Try telling him that,” Natasha’s voice came through the crack in the door. “It’s the first time I’ve seen him be actually nice to someone other than Steve.”

“Oh come on, he’s not really a bully. Is he?” You were more so questioning yourself at this point. As you pulled your shirt over your head, you began to wonder if you were just blinded by your childish crush. Now that you thought about it, he did seem sort of distant from the group. Falling for the broody loner wasn’t really out of your character, so it made sense.

“I wouldn’t say that he’s a bully,” Wanda chimed in. You kept quiet as you undressed and then tried on the gown that Natasha had picked out for you. The two girls moved onto another topic, thankfully, but both paused when they saw you walk out with it on - necklace included, which added to the whole look.

“That’s the one. Now let’s get out of here,” Natasha said with a smirk on her face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a gold credit card that clearly said ‘Anthony Stark’ as the cardholder. You joined in with a giggle, and closed the door once more to go back into your civilian clothes.

Like every single party that you went to, you regretted going within the first ten minutes. Being shy was one thing, but being excruciatingly introverted while three of your best friends knew that you had a crush on someone in this room was painful.

You wore the blue dress that Natasha picked, and the necklace that Wanda did. You had your hair swept out of your face, and only a light sprinkling of makeup. You were an agent, not a beauty queen, as you had to repeatedly tell Natasha when she came at you with something called a contouring stick.

“What am I then?” She had asked, bemused.

“One of a kind,” You said with a grin, which made her chuckle, and put the makeup products away.

You looked around at the rest of the party. Everyone seemed to be either paired off or in their groups, talking with one another. Tony was dancing with Pepper, Natasha and Bruce were talking quietly by the bar, the birds - Clint and Sam - were bonding over beers, Steve and T’Challa were talking about Wakanda, while Wanda was snuggled up with Vision on one of the couches.

That left you with only one person to socialize with, if you didn’t want to intrude on a conversation. Bucky was by the bar, and your eyes locked onto his. The corners of his lips went upward, which he covered by taking a drink of the beer bottle in his hands. Without much of a choice, you walked over and asked the bartender for your favorite drink.

Once more, Bucky said something in Russian, which you didn’t understand. But behind him, Natasha’s head shot up, looked over his shoulder and winked at you.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, feeling all the more shy because you didn’t speak his language.

“Sorry,” He said, brusquely. “I said that’s a nice shade of blue.”

“It reminded me of your eyes-” You said without thinking, then realized with horror that you actually said that out loud. You took your drink from the bartender and downed it in the hopes that you wouldn’t remember that you said that. If only you could take others memories away as easily. Bucky surprised you by actually smiling, and you finally took in how handsome he looked this evening.

He was wearing a suit, but the jacket was opened to reveal a dark blue shirt with the top couple of buttons undone. His hair was tied back in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, keeping most of it out of his face, except for a few stubborn brown strands that framed his cheekbones. He had a five o’clock shadow, and you can’t remember ever seeing him with a fully shaved face. It’s as if he only shaved to keep the stubble.

Continuing to smile, he held out his hand. “Do you want to dance?”

“Oh - oh, I don’t-” You looked out at where Clint was challenging Sam to a dance-off. “I don’t dance.”

Bucky rolled his eyes then said something more in Russian. The drink was giving you a little bit of an edge now, and looked at the man with a tilted head. “Why do you keep speaking to me in Russian when you know that I don’t speak the language?” You finally asked. “If you’re insulting me, you don’t need to do it in another language, just say it to my face. I can handle it.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up. He was not expecting that from you. He finished his drink in the same way that you did yours - down the hatch as quickly as possible, to make it easier to say what he was about to say.

“So I can say the things that I want to say without you judging me.”

“That’s dumb,” You laughed. “You’re making me judge you as a bit of an asshole because you’re literally speaking in a way that I can’t understand you. On purpose.”

“I guess I didn’t think of that,” He rubbed the back of his neck with his good arm, looking away from you as he did so, and caught eyes with Steve. The blonde man was staring right back with a knowing grin on his face. He paused his conversation with the King to give his best friend a thumbs up, which made Bucky turn a little bit red. After all, the brunette had confessed that he found you, and your crush, to be really interesting. Refreshing, even. “I was just saying to myself that of course it’s my luck that the first time I ask someone to dance in eighty years, and she turns me down.”

“Oh,” You said, looking down at the ground now. “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have time to wait around for a miracle,” Natasha said. Somehow, in the time that you and Bucky had an uncomfortable moment, she had slipped behind the bar and poured two shots. She pushed them to be in front of both you and Bucky. “Take a shot, then go and dance. She likes you, you like her, just go sway and figure it out.”

“Natasha!” You said, glaring at your redhead friend. She just shrugged and tapped the wood between the two shots. Bucky took his without a second’s hesitation, and you followed a minute later. It was hot going down your throat, and stung pretty bad. It must have been pretty pure alcohol.

You took the chance to look back at Bucky, despite your embarrassment. He was looking at you beneath heavy eyelids, arm still extended to you. Under Natasha’s scrutinizing gaze, you took his hand, and moved to a more open space. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” You said, breaking the tension.

“I’m the one who wanted to. You’re the one that doesn’t dance.” He reminded you. He guided your arms to be draped around his shoulders while he put his own respectfully on your lower back. Your chest barely brushed against his, and you couldn’t remember the last time that you’ve been this close to someone before, let alone someone that you liked.

“I’ve never really danced before - I doubt I’m good at it,” You admitted.

“You’re doing fine,” He assured you. His thumb rubbed at the curve of your spine, and you nearly purred with happiness at how nice it felt. But you were getting ahead of yourself - this was just a simple dance. He leaned in close to you, his breath against your ear. He didn’t say anything though, just hummed along with the song that was playing. It was more of an electronic dance song than something that was good for a slow dance, but it had a good rhythm that you both kept up with. “Let me help you.”

Bucky hadn’t danced since before the war. He was a little rusty himself, especially since the types of dancing has changed. Nobody went swing dancing anymore. There were clubs rather than dance halls. But he still resembled some of the simple moves, and guided you into a sway, and then even dipped you. As you went low, your eyes caught Steve’s and saw him smiling widely at you. He gave a wink right before Bucky brought you back up, just as the song finished. Like a scene out of a movie, everyone started clapping for the two of you. You buried your head in the fabric of his suit, grinning like an idiot to yourself, blushing like a schoolgirl.

You never really wanted to dance, but you were glad you did.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes oneshot #Winter Soldier #Winter Soldier x reader #Winter Soldier imagines #Marvel #Marvel oneshot #Avengers #Avengers oneshot #buckyb #oneshot #request

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larryfanficwriter98 · 4 years ago

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Chapter Three

Fake It Until You Make It Real

Harry got home Wednesday afternoon excited for the night ahead. He had let the dogs out when he got home a Harlequin Great Dane named Gizmo and a brown Newfoundland named Bear. The large dogs thought they were lap dogs still despite their big size. Harry had sent the gate code and his address to Louis during lunch and Louis had told him they'd see him in a few hours. He kept his glass sliding door open and headed to the playroom that held a lot of toys. The room was originally going to be the family sitting room with the large space, but it ended up being Maddie's toy room. There was play furniture like a grand walk on kitchen, a play grocery store, a play doctor center, and a small nursery area with many play cribs and strollers and storage for her baby things in the corner.

There was a logo table with her Legos under the Lego board for easy storage that also flipped to be a real table to color on or play with playdoh or whatever else she decided to do. There were six storage cube organizers lined up on the longest wall with a reading book and bookcase in the middle so three were one side and three on the other. Some of the bins were empty, some over filling, and others half full. Harry had to go through some of the toys that Maddie no longer wanted so he could donate them, but he never had Maddie here to figure out what stuff she still wanted and what she didn't. Sighing Harry did a quick cleaning of the room making sure everything was cleaned for Freddie if he wanted to play in there.

He then headed to the outdoor playset and made sure no spiders or bees had made it it's home glad to see they haven't. He headed back inside with the dogs following and just before he was going to start dinner his cameras that displayed the live view onto his tv alerted him of Louis entering the gated driveway. Grinning Harry headed to his front door and swung it open watching as Louis parked beside his Murano and got out smiling at him.

"He hasn't stopped talking about coming over just so you know. Everyone at Nursery knows." Louis said as he helped Freddie out of his booster.

"Harry!" Harry spread his arms open wide and knelt down to catch Freddie as he ran into them, "Papa let me bring some of my toys because he said you have a lot of toys I may not want to play with."

"Is that so?" Harry challenged looking at Louis who shrugged.

"Pretty sure your daughter and my son have different tastes." Louis said as he grabbed a Spiderman backpack from the backseat.

"Freddie, I have so many toys you won't even want your other ones come on." Harry said as he carried Freddie, his arm wrapped under his bottom as he entered the house. The dogs perked up immediately and came running over wagging their tails and licking Freddie's leg and shoes, "alright you mutts get off. Back up."

"Papa you didn't say Harry had dogs!" Freddie said excitedly as he wiggled down and was immediately kissed all over his face as he giggled.

"Sorry you're not allergic, are you?" Harry asked looking at Louis

"Don't worry about it and no I'm not. Neither is he. I'm never going to get him to leave now though." Louis told him with a grin as he stood beside Harry, "he's been wanting a dog for years."

"What kind of dog?"

"He wants a Dalmatian."

"Maddie wants one too. These two dogs are mine, got lonely so got some dogs. Gizmo is the Great Dane and Bear is the Newfoundland." Harry said before he grabbed both dogs harnessed and pulled them off of Freddie before they knocked him down, "alright before you see...everything....just know that half of the stuff she doesn't even play with anymore or even knows is here since she's never actually here. I buy things periodically to be prepared and so she's not...bored. I don't have her here to help make a donation pile, so it looks like there's more than there actually is." Harry said looking to Louis.

"You're going to come home every week with a new toy, aren't you?"

"No...maybe." Louis rolled his eyes grinning as he knelt down to help Freddie out of his shoes, "I know I went overboard with the outdoor playset. So, don't even tell me. I know okay."

"Lead the way then Harry." Louis said after slipping his own shoes off and place both pairs by the door. The living room was directly to the right and was a fee inches sunken in. There was a brown plush modular sectional and a swivel cuddle chair to match the sectional. The tv was curved and sitting nicely on a tv stand with the drawers filled with movies.

"The only thing you're missing is a fireplace." Louis said

"Other living room. Well technically it's just a sitting room with a smaller tv for background noise. It will most likely be where our families will gather because it has more seating. Let's first show Freddie to the playroom then we can go on a quick tour." The playroom was directly across from the living room on the left side of the front door. It had a sliding door that had a hook lock on the outside where only someone five feet could reach it. Freddie stood in shock of all the space and storage that had toys in it.

"You spoiled her." Louis said looking at Harry noticing he was looking sadly at the room, Louis stepped into his side and wrapped his arms around his back rubbing it, "Hey we can always elope in secret and-" Harry cracked a smile before he laughed shaking his head.

"No that'll look bad. Thank you though...for doing this." Harry said as he wrapped his arm around Louis' waist and pulled him in closer to his side, "come on I'll give you that tour."

********

Louis watched Freddie from the kitchen windows as he played on the playground with the dogs outside laying in the shade. The whole yard was fenced its, but Harry has still made sure Freddie knew not to go outside with the dogs. Harry was cooking and they kept talking about anything they could think of that still needed to be discussed."

"Wedding day. What day do you want to get married?" Harry asked

"January 19? It's six months after our anniversary?" Louis suggested

"Yeah, works for me. So, I was on Pinterest-“

“Figures.” Harry playfully glared at him before he continued chopping up some carrots.

“I was on Pinterest looking at winter color schemes we could discuss and found some that I liked. So, in order you don’t picked something just because I like it, I pinned every one that interested my no matter how little and you are to pick your top three.”

“Three?! What!? Why three!?”

“Because it’ll be easier to narrow it down. Here passcode is Maddie’s birthday 0520.” Harry said handing over his phone, “Pinterest is in the social media folder on the second page.” Louis nodded as he unlocked it then swiped to the second page and found said folder. Clicking on it he saw the usual Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and Snapchat apps.

“You have Snapchat?”

“Maddie likes the filters. Seriously I think the only time I’m on it is when she’s with me or if she uses Julie’s, her babysitter’s phone to send me pictures. She’s under Princess with a heart emoji in case it ever shows up.”

“Don’t worry I’m not want to jump to conclusions because of emojis and contact names. My mom’s contact is five heart emoji’s and there’s been a lot of weird accusations. Especially since she has a nickname for me which I refuse to divulge.”

“Did you just use divulge in a casual sentence?” Harry asked amused as he looked at Louis

“Moving on.” Louis said pointedly as he found his boards, “You realize you have a wedding color board for every season, right?”

“I like to plan ahead. Moving on. It's the winter one...the second winter one. The newest one." Louis grinned as Harry blushed a dark pink shade. Louis clicked on the board that was made over the past few days and saw a lot of color schemes.

"There's twenty schemes...really?"

"I went a but overboard." Harry admitted, "to be fair I've been planning my wedding since I was five so be glad you have a say at all." Louis laughed shaking his head.

"I'll make a new board of the ones I like then we'll go from there."

"Sounds good." Louis looked through them all twice before he started moving them to a separate board.

Obviously, a lot of them were red and green or a light blue which he did like, but it was just so traditionally done it sort of irked him. He knew winter weddings weren't that common, but the colors were, and he wanted something different and he knew that Harry did too considering some the color palettes were for the Autumn season and Spring season. The colors would still work for the winter and he did like some, but it was the copper and greenery that kept his eye. Considering Harry had three copies of the similar color scheme he assumed it was safe to say Harry liked it too.

"Papa!" Louis turned and grinned seeing Freddie come running in with the dogs not far behind him.

"Hi Hun." Louis said lifting Freddie up onto his lap, "are you having fun?"

"Yeah, Harry's house is the bestest!" Freddie said excitedly as he bounced lightly on Louis lap.

"Hey Freddie, can you be the biggest boy?" Harry asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes. Yes, I can." Freddie said

"Great you have to get off your Papa's lap though." Freddie immediately slid down and came over to Harry who gave him the stack of players.

Two glass and one reusable plastic plate with Thomas the train on it. Louis made to stand already opening his mouth to tell Freddie to give him the plates, but Harry gave him a look that had Louis sitting down before he was even out of the seat. Harry then played a handful of napkins on the plates with two adult utensils sets then one tinier set for little hands.

"Put a plate on each placemat then divide everything equally. The little set is yours, got it?"

"Okay Harry." Louis stared at Harry who didn't look at all worried as he turned away and opened the fridge door.

"Are you insane? He's going to drop them." Louis whispered walking over to Harry as he watched Freddie head to the square dining table set for four but only had three placemats.

"No, he won't. He's four years old, plenty old enough to help set the table. Maddie started setting the table at three and did fine." Louis swallowed looking over at Freddie who indeed looked completely comfortable as he set the plates down on the table and started setting it as perfectly as any four-year-old could, “Relax he can handle a few chores.”

“He does chores.” Louis defended weakly because he knew he really didn’t make Freddie do chores if it meant a fit. Usually, Freddie picked up his toys but that was it.

“Minimally picking up toys is baby word compared to what Maddie did at four. I don’t make her slave away, but I make her bring her hamper to the stairs where I carry it down then I have her take it to the laundry room and organize them. I have her feed the dogs, she makes her bed in the morning, she puts her clothes away. Tiny things that make her have responsibility. I absolutely will not step on your toes when it comes to Freddie and parenting styles will sometimes clash no matter what, we’ll have to talk about our dead set no’s obviously, but…” Harry trailed off as he pulled Louis closer to him by his hands and held eye contact, “Just know that as your husband your son is my son, and my daughter is your daughter. Chores, and we can discuss this together and build Freddie up to it slowly, will be done by each child. Freddie will have a fit and a tantrum and he will hate us but believe me when I say in time it will have massive improvements on his behavior. He’ll have a good list of responsibilities and he’ll feel like he’s needed, it’ll be good for him. I respect you as a parent, I commend you as a parent and I’m positive if I had Maddie more often, I probably would have spoiled her too much in the earlier years. Not having her gave me a lot of time to research and study and find a parenting style I wanted to stick with when I had her over. Her adjustment here won’t be easy either, her adjustment to just a few chores was hard so I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when I get her regularly. We’ll work through this together as a couple, as a family.” Louis smiled softly and nodded, he wrapped an arm around Harry’s neck and hugged him feeling his arms wrap around his body immediately returning the hug a tad tighter.

“Are you two going to kiss? Should I cover my eyes?” Louis and Harry pulled away blushing and Louis looked over at Freddie who looked between them, “Papa is Harry your boyfriend? Is that why you asked me if I liked him?”

“…Sort of…” Louis said cautiously as he and Harry looked at each other not actually having talked about when they’d address it to the kids let alone Freddie.

“That’s not a real answer Papa. You told me so.”

“I did say that didn’t I.” Louis said

“How would you feel if I were your papa’s boyfriend?” Harry asked like the saving grave he is as he knelt to be at the same level as Freddie, “How would you feel if we told you we had been dating for a long time and we might want to get married?”

“Married? Like a big white dress married?”

“Well neither one of us would be in a dress…I assume, but yes something like that.” Harry said glancing at Louis briefly.

“Would you move in with us?” Freddie asked almost excitedly, “Will you bring the dogs? And the playset?”

“Actually, you and your Papa would move in here. You’d have a bedroom you can decorate anyway you want and the dogs and the playset and the playroom. My daughter would join us here too sometimes.” Harry explained

“Oh…but what about my toys?”

“We’d bring them with us Freddie Bear.” Louis said kneeling beside Harry and looped his arm around Harry’s, “What do you think?”

“Will Santa know we moved so close to Christmas?” Freddie asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, Santa will know where to find you on Christmas. I promise.” Louis said amused as he grabbed Freddie’s hand.

“Well then…okay. I guess. When do we move?” Louis opened his mouth then closed it and looked at Harry.

“Whenever. When is your lease up?”

“November so we have a few more months. When is your first court hearing again? I feel like you told me already, but I can’t remember.”

“November fifteenth. By then hopefully you have met my lawyer and he has met you and Freddie. Just a routine meeting nothing to worry about. He’s upset with me that I didn’t tell him I had a boyfriend until now, but he told me us taking the precautions we did will look good for us.” Harry said carefully as he looked at Freddie who looked to be paying close attention to their conversation. Louis nodded in understanding, “Freddie tell your papa what juice you want, and I will bring the food to the table before it gets cold.”

*********

Freddie fell asleep halfway through Finding Nemo and after a bit of reluctance, Louis finally agreed to let Harry show them to a guest room so they could sleep the night considering how late it was. Harry closed their guest room door behind him after wishing them a goodnight and Louis crawled into the bed beside Freddie falling asleep within seconds.

#Larry Stylinson #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson fanfiction #larry shippers #larries #nonfamous au #larry fake marraige au #fake marriage #parents au #doctor harry styles #teacher louis

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etherealwaifgoddess · 5 years ago

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A Good Night’s Sleep, Pt.3

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After your date with Bucky things heat up quickly.

Warnings/ Content: Aaaaaand here’s the smut you’ve all been waiting for :)

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies, this is the final installment of this little series. Once again tagging @marinaaniseed since the idea for this was hers. I hope you’ve enjoyed this as much as I have.

Here are parts ONE and TWO if you missed them. XOXO - Ash

A Good Night’s Sleep, Part Three

Bucky’s living quarters are larger than you expected. The common area; a spacious living room, dining room, kitchen set up, made you think that the individual rooms would be just that: a room only. What you find behind Bucky’s door is a small apartment of sorts. He has a kitchenette with a table to eat at, a living room, and two doors down a short hallway for a bedroom and bathroom. You follow his example, toeing off your shoes at the entryway, slightly amused by the sight of your ballet flats sitting next to his assortment of combat boots, sneakers, and the dress shoes he takes off. It’s so painfully domestic. The carpeting under your bare feet is thick and soft, you’re officially glad for his no shoes rule. Digging your toes in, you have to resist the temptation to lay down on the plush carpet.

“Right this way.” Bucky motions to the door at the end of the hall. You follow him down to his bedroom where he flicks on a light illuminating the small space in a golden glow. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. I was thankful Steve got me a place here after everything that happened. New York has changed so much since I lived here last, but it’s still home.”

“It’s nice. Mine isn’t much different, honestly.” You look around the bedroom that’s decorated in various shades of blue and white. There’s prints and posters framed on his walls, all depicting some type of space themed art. The bed against the far wall looks huge and soft, covered with a small army of pillows and a fluffy navy blue duvet.

Bucky catches you staring at it and smiles, chagrined. “I might have gone a little overboard with the bed.”

“You don’t say?” you tease.

“I really like having somewhere soft and warm to sleep. It’s nice after so many years of… well, you know. I didn’t realize how crazy it was until I was done. It started out buying an extra pillow so the bed looked balanced. Then I needed a duvet to keep warm and that came with decorative pillows. After that I found those fuzzy pillows over there that looked nice and then the ones with constellations on them. Within two weeks I went from a single pillow and a quilt to that. Once I spent a night in it I was done for, it’s amazing and I regret nothing.”

“It looks amazing.”

“The mattress is unreal too. Tony got these memory foam gel things for all the beds here, it’s like sleeping on a marshmallow. Here, get comfy and I’ll set up the projector.”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, the softness of the bed inviting after the long day you’ve had. Bucky moves around setting things up, making small adjustments to the device on his desk before finally going over to turn off the lights. The room is only dark for a moment before the ceiling lights up with a starry sky. “Lay back, you’ll get the most out of it that way.” he instructs as he joins you on the bed.

You follow his lead, stretching out on your back on the bed next to him. Bucky’s hand slips into yours and entwines your fingers, waiting to see if you’ll allow it, and you do. He clicks a small remote in his other hand and the light show starts up. The ceiling is alight with simulated stars, rolling through the different major constellations and stars; each one lighting up before it’s name appears across it for a moment, then moving to the next. It rolls through the seasons as well, showing the different positions and constellations that appear based on the time of year. It’s magical in a way and you get lost in the moment.

It can’t have been more than ten minutes and Bucky has been oddly quiet the entire time. You glance over, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He seems at peace watching the series of stars. You wonder how many times he’s watched the show before and if it always brings him peace.

“About a hundred. And yeah, that’s why I bought it.” Bucky replies, making you realize you had spoken your musings out loud.

“Sorry, that was supposed to be an ‘in my head only’ thought.” you give him a lopsided smile in apology.

“You can ask me things, that’s okay. I’ve always been fascinated by space and being able to see the night sky is something that grounded me. Even when I was the Soldier, I remember feeling better when I could see the night sky. Didn’t understand why at the time, but I did. I like how it’s always the same, no matter where you are, no matter how the world changes below it.”

“With everything that’s changed in your life, I can see how you would like that. Thank you, for showing it to me.”

“This is nice.” Bucky rubs a thumb across the back of your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips.

You can’t help but stare at his lips a moment, you want to feel them on yours, against your skin. It’s still your first date and you resign yourself to maybe getting a quick kiss later if you’re lucky.

Bucky notices your staring almost immediately. It would be so easy and you seem willing. He wonders what’s holding him back, what’s keeping him from taking what you’re freely offering. There’s always something that’s stood in the way of what he wanted. The financial crash of the depression, the war, HYDRA, recovering from seventy years of brainwashing, being an outlaw for a while, going back into Cryo. His life has been an endless stream of if only’s and Bucky has had just about enough of it. He’s adapting to his life in the twenty first century, he has friends, a place to live, a sort of job, and enough money that he doesn’t have to worry about it for at least a hundred years. There’s nothing standing in his way anymore except for himself. Bucky props himself up on his elbow, leaving his hand entwined with yours. He looks from your lips to your eyes, waiting in silent permission. You nod, eyes locked back in on his lips, and he leans forward instantly. He’s done standing in his own way.

Bucky’s lips collide with yours, searing hot and insistent. You had expected him to be more hesitant but he’s pouring himself into the kiss and all you can do is hold on and keep up. He doesn’t let his hands roam, just exploring your mouth with his own while his body blasts heat like a furnace pressed up against the side of yours. You don’t bother reigning yours in, letting your free hand glide along the lines of his back and tangle gently in his hair. He lets out a throaty noise when your nails rake across his scalp and you make a mental note to repeat the motion later to see if elicits the same response.

You can’t tell if the kiss has gone on for hours, days, or minutes. It’s all consuming in the best possible way and when Bucky finally pulls back you’re both breathing hard. “Um,” Bucky begins with a bright blush, tucking his head against the curve of your shoulder, “We need to stop. Or slow down at least.”

You furrow your brow, worried you’ve triggered some unpleasant memory for him by accident. “You okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, more than okay. I just… I don’t know how far we want things to go and I’m about to have a problem if we keep going like that.”

“Oh.” realization dawns, “That’s okay. If you want to stop we can, or we could keep going and then I could help you with that problem when it arises.”

Bucky shudders. He wants you, desperately. It’s liquid fire in his veins and he doesn’t want to keep ignoring his desires. “I think.” he starts and stops. “I think I’d like to keep going. If you want to.”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course I do.”

Bucky resists the urge to preen at the endearment and you shift up to claim his lips with yours. Tangling your hand back in his hair you trail kisses down his throat, nipping lightly at the bow of his collarbone before trailing back up to his mouth. Bucky is a mess of over sensitization, your hands in his hair and your lips against his skin while your body curves against his so soft and beautiful. You can guess that it’s been a while for him, he had alluded to you being his first date since before the war during one of your text chats. He’s so responsive to your affection and you want to make it as good as it can be for him. Your favorite part of sex has always been figuring out what makes your partners see stars and Bucky is making it so easy for you.

You run your hand down his chest, feeling the wall of muscles under his soft sweater, letting it rest a moment on his belt buckle before you start tugging the sweater up and off. Bucky helps you get it off him and then tentatively skims his hand along the neckline of your blouse. You pull your top off easily, willing to go tit or tat with him if gets you both naked quicker. You’re both fumbling with pants next, quickly depositing your jeans on the floor with your tops.

Bucky looks pained as he looks down at your body, clad only in your powder blue satin lingerie. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he whispers reverently as he kisses the tops of your breasts where they threaten to spill out of the cups of your bra.

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Barnes.” you tell him affectionately.

A chuckle rumbles in his throat and it reverberates against your skin. You let your hands continue their explorations, not really meaning to rush but you’re dying to get your hands on him. You ghost your palm across the front of his tight boxer briefs, getting the slightest feeling of the hard length straining under the soft fabric. Bucky’s hips stutter against the contact and he gasps hard.

“That okay?” you check in, wanting to ensure you’re not moving too fast.

“More than,” he rasps.

You smile widely, pleased by his response, and let your hand slide over him again.

Bucky thinks you’ll be the death of him as your hand presses against his aching cock, the pressure more intentional this time. He’s afraid he won’t last very long, he hasn’t been with anyone intimately since before the war and getting himself off pales in comparison to being with someone else. He hasn’t even done that all that much since thawing out. Bucky curses himself, he’s going to blow his load like a teenager before he can even ensure you enjoy yourself. For all of his bravado in his teens and twenties, he only had the occasional partner. Sure he could charm girls and guys alike but he was, at heart, a hopeless romantic. He knows what to do, but he feels inexperienced while you seem instinctively able to light his body up like fireworks.

Determined to make this about him, you slowly push against his chest so he’ll lay back and let you steer things for a bit. Bucky complies and you help him shimmy out of his boxer briefs once he’s on his back. From the gentle caresses over his clothes you had guess he would be gorgeous but the sight of him has your mouth watering. You exhale heavily through pursed lips, letting your excitement be known and Bucky has the good graces to look shy at the sound. This is going to be a stretch you feel for days. You slip your bra and panties off quickly, wanting to give him full access to your body like you have his. Bucky swallows thickly, thanking every god above that he met you.

You carefully take him in hand, letting the silky heat of his erection slide easily against your palm. He’s holding himself rigid with tight control and you lean forward to kiss him again, wanting him to relax a little and just let himself enjoy this. Pre-come drips from the blunt head of his cock and his hips jerk involuntarily. “What do you want, sweetheart?” you ask him softly. He gasps but doesn’t respond so you try checking in again. “Do you want to just do this, or I could use my mouth. Or I could get on top of you, if you’re okay with going that far. I need you to tell me though.”

Bucky shakes his head to clear his scattered thoughts. “I don’t think I could handle your mouth right now.” he admits honestly. He practically came at just the thought of your lips wrapped around him. “I want to be inside you. Please.” The request is breathy and desperate, a tone he’s not familiar with coming from his own mouth.

“Okay, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me.” You kiss him lightly in thanks. Despite how responsive his body is you know you need to check in with him frequently to make sure you’re not pushing him too much or triggering something. Slowly you rise up on your knees, your lips exploring his torso to keep the two of you connected while you swing a leg over his hips to straddle his thighs. You arch up, grasping his heavy cock in your hand to get it right where you need it and then you sink down on to him.

Bucky grasps his duvet so hard it creaks, threatening to tear in both his metal and flesh hands. The tight, wet, heat of your body engulfing his straining erection brings pinpricks of tears to the corner of his eyes. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

You let yourself settle on top of him, giving you both a moment to adjust to the sensation. You gently unclasp his fists from the sheets, moving them up to your breasts so he can palm and knead them instead. “You good?” you check in one last time before moving.

“Yeah. So good, doll. You’re fucking perfect.” he grits out.

Spurred on by his enthusiastic consent you start grinding your hips against his, getting the friction going slowly so it doesn’t overwhelm either of you right away. He feels like steel inside of you, so incredibly hard and thick. The way he’s responding so easily adds to the heady mix and you’re reeling that this is real life right now. It’s so much better than you ever could have imagined. Bucky’s hands fly down to your hips as you start sliding up and down on his shaft, letting the drag of his cock hit all the right places for you both. It’s incredible, all consuming, and you can tell by his glassy eyes and the sheen of sweat on his brow that it won’t take long to push him over the edge. You take his right hand into yours, unsure of the limits of dexterity in his left, and move it down to the apex of your thighs. Carefully you guide his fingers between your folds, mere inches from where your bodies are joined.

Bucky’s foggy brain realizes what you’re doing as you rub two of his fingers against the tiny bundle of nerves between your folds. Moving your hand away you let him do the rest, rubbing small circles around the tiny bud as your body shakes in pleasure. This he knows how to do, even as he’s fighting for rational thought at the feel of your body grinding on top of his. Your orgasm builds rapidly, his skilled fingers bringing you quickly to the edge until you’re shuddering and clenching down around him, choked off cries spilling from your lips. Your whole body is shuddering as you come back down from your climax and you increase your pace, helping him chase his own release. It’s barely a minute later that Bucky’s muscles clench up, going perfectly still before his vision whites out and he comes, lost in the hurricane of his own pleasure. Your name is a desperate plea on his lips as he comes, hips locked firmly against yours as they shake.

You’re painstakingly gentle as you bring him down, making sure you don’t move while he comes back into his body bit by bit. You can see the moment his head clears and his eyes open back up, blearily look up at you like you’ve hung the moon. “Hi.” you say quietly, pressing your lips together to hide your satisfied smirk.

“Hi. Wow.” he mumbles, raking a hand through his sex mussed hair.

“You okay if I hop off?”

He nods quickly, “Yeah.”

You slide off and the hot gush between your legs reminds you that in your haste you forgot to use protection. You’re never that careless and are immediately thankful you’re on the pill. “We forgot a condom.” you point out with a cringe. “I’m on the pill though. And I’m clean.” you’re quick to assure him.

“I’m clean too. I’m sorry though. Next time we’ll be more careful.”

“Already planning a next time?” you ask with a smirk. You locate a box of tissues on his nightstand, quickly cleaning your combined releases from your inner thighs.

Bucky somehow manages to blush brighter, even on top of his flushed cheeks. “I hope so. Maybe in the morning?”

“Did you just invite me to say the night?”

“If you want to. You can borrow some of my clothes if you do.”

You look at him, he’s sleepy and sated and the draw of spending a night wrapped up in his arms has you nodding in agreement. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

“I have nightmares.” Bucky blurts out, embarrassed but needing to warn you.

“I mumble in my sleep.” you tell him with an indifferent shrug.

“No, really. I might wake you. I really want you here, but if I wake you, just give my shoulder a shake and wake me up.” He’s never been violent waking up, thankfully, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about hurting you, just possibly scaring the shit out of you. He wants to try though, he thinks if anyone will understand and accept him it’ll be you.

“Okay, I will. Let’s get under the covers, you can be the little spoon.”

“Little spoon?”

You chuckle, “I’ll show you.”

The two of you slide under his heavy blankets, the cool sheets soft and slippery against your bare skin. As soon as you’re settled you roll him onto his side facing away from you so you can curl your body around his, an arm thrown over his waist and your head nestled on his shoulder.

“I like being the little spoon.” he tells you in the darkness.

“Good, now try to get some rest.” you press a kiss to his shoulder and lay quietly until you hear his breathing even out and you allow yourself to drift off.

Sunlight is filtering through the curtains of Bucky’s bedroom, tiny dust motes floating in the air like glitter. You let out a sleepy sigh as Bucky shifts to get more comfortable and he feels momentarily guilty that woke you. Since you’re awake, he rolls over so he can face you, not caring about morning breath after the night you shared. “Morning.” his voice low and sleep hoarse.

“Morning.” you echo sleepily, “You slept well?”

Bucky realizes it’s the first nightmare free night he’s had in years. He can’t remember a single dream and feels rested for the first time in forever. “Yeah. First time in a long time.” He wonders if it was the sex or just having you in bed with him or both. It doesn’t really matter, it was a fucking marvel that he finally made it through the night. He also wonders how he can persuade you to stay over more.

“I’m glad. I did too.” You lean into Bucky’s hand as it curls through your hair, your brain slowly waking up and still sleep hazy.

Quiet minutes pass, both of you letting yourselves adjust to being awake slowly.

“Want to go get breakfast? I don’t have stuff here but the team kitchen is fully stocked. Everyone is probably already up and off for the day.” Bucky offers, finally breaking the comfortable silence.

“Sure, want to grab a shower first though?” You’re feeling a little grimy and a shower will help you wake up more too.

Bucky is quick to agree and shows you to his large walk in shower. It’s heaven on your sore muscles and you take turns washing each other, careful not to start up anything you can’t finish right then. Once you’re clean and dressed in a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and a tshirt, you follow him down the hall to the team kitchen. It’s huge and Bucky wasn’t exaggerating about it being fully stocked. There are dozens of packages of pre-diced vegetables in the fridge along with bags of shredded cheese and several large flats of eggs. You pull out a little of everything, figuring you can whip up omelettes pretty easily while Bucky starts on making a pot of coffee.

“Hey Buck!” you hear a friendly voice call out, “No nightmares last night?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says but his tone is awkward.

“That’s great pal. I’m so happy for you.”

“Good for you, Barnes.” another male voice chimes in. “So what finally worked?”

You hear Bucky let out a squeak, trying to clear his throat. Not willing to leave him to flounder, you take your arm load of ingredients and shut the large fridge doors with a thump, making your presence known.

Two sets of eyes, one blue and one brown, snap over to see you standing in the kitchen in Bucky’s clothes, damp hair falling all around you, and the faintest bruise on your throat where Bucky got a little over eager. You have exactly zero shame about the amazing night you’ve just had and your expression makes that abundantly clear.

Steve’s eyes are saucers and Sam has to cover his laugh with a cough into his hand.

At seeing your unabashedness Bucky feels the tight panic in his chest loosen a little. It’s going to be okay, and he feels more certain of that than he has in a long time. He feels like he can handle just about anything by your side. With a cocky grin he takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs at his friends, “Looks like you were right, Wilson.”

~The End~

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes feels #bucky barnes x reader #nightmares #PTSD #original female character #reader insert #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom

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cruisercrusher · 5 years ago

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Dicktiger week day 7- Free Day/Au (prince of sea, prince of shore)

Tiger scoffed as he watched the merchant’s crew surrender before the fight could even really get going. He held his sword to the neck of the merchant who owned the ship, trembling on his knees before Tiger. The Tiger of Kandahar, though he was not the captain of the infamous pirate ship Spyral, only quartermaster to Captain Black-Eyed Bertellini— his reputation as a fearsome and merciless pirate still preceded him. The disgraced knight, the great warrior— no matter what people thought of him as, sailors all over the seas had nightmares about the cruel swing of his blade.

They hadn’t even put up a fight. It was disappointing.

Helena smirked down at the quivering merchant as she strolled over to them, her heavy buckled boots stomping on the deck of the great galleon they’d just captured.

“Everything on this ship, everything you own, now belongs to me.” She declared, looking down her nose at the merchant. “All your treasures, your life and the lives of your crew— mine to do with as I see fit.”

The merchant said nothing, fear seized his tongue. Helena sneered at him.

“Tiger,” she ordered, “Throw this wet bellied pig overboard.”

Then she walked off to the hold to review their plunder, and Tiger grabbed the merchant by his ruffled collar and dragged him to the edge of the ship.

“Wait, wait!” He cried, suddenly finding his voice. “Please don’t— spare me! Have mercy!”

Tiger lifted the man up with ease, dangling him over the swirling inky waters below. The merchant continued to babble, scrabbling at Tiger’s arm, trying to hold on.

“I’ll make you a trade! Please, I’m begging you— my greatest treasure, my most valuable possession, I spent a fortune on it, it’s beautiful, mesmerizing even— it’s yours, all yours, if you let me live.”

Tiger raised an eyebrow at him. “And where is this treasure?”

“Locked away in my cabin. Only I have the key. I’ll give it to you if you let me go.”

“Fool.” Tiger smirked. “It will be mine regardless.”

And with that he let go, dropping the screaming merchant down into the sea. He fell in the water with a splash, his head re-appearing above the surface once, twice, before he bobbed down and did not come back up.

Not one thread of remorse tugged at Tiger’s heart as he walked to the captain’s cabin, whistling a little on his way down the stairs. This sort of thing was normal for him. Killing, stealing... that was simply what his life had become. He did not regret it-- he couldn't.

If Tiger ever let himself regret, he knew it would consume him. His mistakes were irreparable.

The door was locked, as the merchant said it would be, but Tiger was far from discouraged. He aimed a mighty kick at the door and it collapsed with a bang, falling into the room in splintered pieces. He walked into the room, feeling quite satisfied with himself. He only made it maybe about two steps before he stopped dead and the feeling dropped, as he spotted what could have only been what the merchant meant as his greatest treasure.

In the middle of the room sat a small glass box, with no top and filled with water. Sitting inside, scrunched up and visibly uncomfortable in his confines, was a merman.

Tiger could do nothing but stare. The merman was looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, eyes that were an unnaturally bright shade of blue, shining even in the dim light of the captain’s cabin. The top of the glass box came up to just under his arms, which were draped over and holding on to the edge of the case. His hair was sleek and black like coal and curled around the base of his skull and his pointed ears, which looked as though they’d at one point had many piercings in them, though the merman wore no jewelry.

He was also covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes along the back of his arms, his torso and gilled neck. Two nasty looking bruises marred his face at the right corner of his mouth and just underneath his left eye. What looked like rope burns criss-crossed his otherwise smooth, cinnamon-brown skin, and there were places on his tail, curled up and stuffed in the box as it was, where it looked like some of his scales had been torn off, leaving patches of swollen red muscle exposed. That, and the pain clear in the merman’s eyes, made it all a terrible sight, and Tiger felt sick to think that the merchant’s most valuable possession was a sentient, living being obviously kept here against his will.

He was glad he’d killed him.

Suddenly the merman extended a hand to him, reaching out as far as he could from the glass case, and Tiger nearly jumped back in surprise.

“Can you help me?” said the merman, and Tiger was taken aback by how clear and strong his voice was, contrary to his posture. “Please, help me.”

Tiger stood frozen in place. The merman leaned out of the case, reaching harder towards him, extending his arm as far as it could go. “Please.” There was an almost desperate edge to the word. Something in the merman’s eyes drew Tiger forward, as if in a trance. He approached the case, and the merman grabbed him by the hand, tugging him closer. Tiger was pretty sure he himself was still in a state of shock as he was pulled down to his knees on the floor next to the merman.

Of course, he knew, in theory, that merpeople existed, but he had never seen one before, even in all his years at sea. They hardly ever came up to the surface. Rare, elusive creatures, merpeople were.

“How did you get here?” Tiger asked. The merman looked away as if in shame.

“I... was exploring, too close to the shore. I got caught in a fisherman’s net and I tried to get away but-- then the fisherman brought me onto land and sold me to the man who owns this ship. And now I’m so far from home, and I don’t know how to get back, I don’t think I could make the trip on my own anyway, injured as I am…” The merman looked at him again imploringly. “Please, help me get back to my family. I can promise you a great reward if you do.”

Tiger regarded the merman curiously. “What kind of reward?”

“Riches beyond your wildest dreams,” Said the merman, looking Tiger in the eye, in such a way that Tiger couldn’t help but believe him. “My father is a king, and I am his eldest son. He will pay you so handsomely if you were to bring me home.”

Tiger’s eyebrows raised. This merman was a prince? Then helping him really would be in Tiger’s best interest.

“Alright, I will help you.” He said, and the merman’s face lit up with a smile. “Where is your home?”

“West, very far west.” The merman squeezed Tiger’s hand. “It is quite the journey. Thank you.”

Tiger frowned at his expression of gratitude. “I have not helped you yet.”

The merman smiled at him. “True.” He said. “Why don’t you start by getting me out of this damn box?”

He lifted his arms up in a way that made Tiger think of a small child demanding to be carried. He huffed, grabbing the merman under his arms and lifting him up into the air. Tiger let out an involuntary wheeze. The merman was far heavier than he had expected him to be— and he even had the audacity to snicker at Tiger’s struggle.

“What’s your name?” The merman said, unbothered as he flopped about while Tiger struggled to lift and get a proper hold on him-- not only was he heavy, he was slippery too. He wrapped his arms around Tiger’s neck.

“Tiger.” Tiger grunted. The merman smiled.

“My name is Dick.”

Tiger hefted Dick up so the merman’s torso was draped over his shoulders like a fine scarf, his tail looped loosely around his arm and hanging down towards the floor, but not dragging. He mumbled an apology when Dick hissed in pain at the sudden pressure on his bruised ribs.

He started walking towards the door now that he was balanced properly, but Dick stopped him.

“Wait,” he said, pointing at an ornate coffer on the desk. “My crown.”

Tiger redirected his steps to the desk. He clicked the coffer open, and Dick reached down to retrieve it contents.

First he pulled out a pair of earrings— three fat, shimmering blue pearls (Tiger didn’t know pearls could be that colour, or size, but maybe it was a bottom-of-the-ocean thing) on a sharp hook that he put carefully through the holes in his earlobes.

Next was a long, complicated, looping strand of pearls that matched the earrings. Tiger didn’t find out what they were for, because instead of putting them on Dick handed the tangled strand to Tiger, who shoved it in his pocket.

Last was a crown unlike any Tiger had seen or heard of before. It looked like thin, twining vines made of pure gold, decorated in some of the empty spaces between with smaller versions of the rest of the merman’s pearls. It was magnificent, and Tiger was sure, then, that Dick would make good on his promise of a reward.

They left that evening. Tiger told Helena what he had to do, and she gave him her blessing to go on the journey with a twinkle in her eye that Tiger could not explain if he tried. Unfortunately Helena-- and her ship-- were going in the opposite direction Dick and Tiger wanted, so Tiger placed the merman in a lifeboat, poured only just enough water into the bottom to keep Dick from drying out, and off they went.

Dick could not simply swim across the ocean, just as Tiger could not simply walk across Asia, especially not injured. So Tiger planned to make their way to the coast, claim a ship for their own by whatever means they deemed fit, one large enough to safely sail across the Atlantic, and get to Dick’s home that way.

“Does the salt not hurt you?” Tiger asked in the middle of his rowing (he would have made Dick row as well, so he wouldn’t have to do all the work himself, if not for the fact that Dick did not have the limbs necessary to brace himself in the boat to do so). Dick looked up from where he was trailing his arm along in the water, feeling the current as their little lifeboat moved through the blessedly calm waves.

“What do you mean?” He said.

“The salt of the water, in your cuts. Doesn’t it hurt?”

Dick frowned at him. “No? Why? Does salt hurt humans?”

“Of course. It stings wickedly, when it gets in an open wound.”

Dick hummed, considering this. “Humans are very strange.”

Tiger scoffed. Perhaps that was true, and the human body was, in fact, quite strange, but Tiger didn’t think it could be any stranger than that of a merperson. He did not voice that thought, though, only continued to row through the small waves. Dick turned his attention back down to the water, watching it ripple around his arm. He leaned down to rest his chin on the back of his hand on the edge of the boat. He had a serene look on his face, like all his troubles had disappeared with his newfound proximity to the ocean.

Tiger was not as happy about it. He’d discovered within seconds that the water they’d placed in the bottom of the boat would very quickly soak through his boots, and so he was barefoot, feet wet. At least this lifeboat had seats, so he was not soaking his pants as well.

It was while the sun was starting to set and he was starting to feel the ache in his arms that it fully struck Tiger just how much he was doing for this strange creature he’d just met.

The thought came to him along with a strong sense of unease. While Tiger had never met a merperson before that day, he had heard plenty, including stories of merpeople putting sailors under spells, luring them to a watery death with their sweet voices and wicked smiles. Could this merman have put Tiger under his will?

But no, Tiger shook the notion away almost as soon as it occurred to him. He was just being paranoid.

If Dick had wanted to drown him, he’d had ample time to do it already.

But still, Tiger thought as he eyed the curve of Dick’s spine and the way his full, soft-looking lips parted slightly around a quiet sigh, maybe there was another reason he was so eager to help him. Aside from the promise of a reward, that is. He felt his gaze wander as if of its own accord across the merman’s figure, lingering, examining the way the setting sun reflected off Dick’s eyes, and glinted on the pearls draped over his body. (He found out what that other mess of pearls was for-- it was almost like a necklace, with strands that hung around his neck, shoulders and torso, and connected at various places, including over his sternum, the nape of his neck, and the small of his back.)

Tiger would have to be completely blind not to notice Dick’s beauty, regardless of his injuries. He could almost understand why the merchant had wanted to put him on display-- but as soon as the thought occurred to him he banished it, a dark feeling coiling in his gut at the prospect of relating on any level to the scum that had kept this person, prefix of mer irrelevant, captive. He redoubled his rowing efforts as if he could run from the shame, and kept his eyes from then on fixed on the horizon.

He thought of Dick’s injuries-- and did not look-- and felt sick at the idea of objectifying him like the ones who had done that to him had.

Though if he had looked, he would have noticed Dick’s expression change, so his smile was no longer directed at the waters below him but somewhere farther than that, his focus on the man in the boat with him, and a delighted little dusting of a blush appearing on his cheeks.

#dicktigerweek2020 #dicktigerweek #dicktiger #dick grayson #tiger king of kandahar #mer au #writing #my writing #fic #my fic #dc #dc comics

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