#the only crumbs i can think of would be under my sister's chair in the kitchen on on the stove | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tswaney17 · 2 years ago

Text

My Son

As I write this, it saddens me to know that this is my last @elriel-month fic. This month went by so quickly, and there was such amazing content produced from it. I want to recognize all of the fantastic people who participated in Elriel Month, both in producing content and those who consistently like, comment, reblog, share, etc. the work that is produced. It's been such a fun month, and a huge thank you to all of those who put it on. A lot of time, effort, and work goes on behind the scenes to keep these appreciation months running. Y'all are amazing. 🌸🦇

Now on to the fic. This is part 2 of Little One. I've had this fic written for months and I'm super excited to share it with you. Please let me know your thoughts! 💙💜💚

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, some descriptions of canon-typical violence, very minor adult descriptions

Word Count: 4,127

Elain sat at their kitchen table, a gurgling Rosalie tucked in the crook of her arm, Kaden sat across from her munching on some freshly baked pastries, cured meats, and sipping on fruit juice. A cup of tea rested against her palm as she smiled down at her son who happily hummed while eating his breakfast, bare feet kicking under his chair. It was just the three of them this morning, Azriel having been called away by their High Lord for an urgent meeting at nearly the crack of dawn.

He apologized profusely for not only waking her so early but also for having to leave her, to which he made up for with his head between her legs as the sun broke the horizon, casting an orange glow into their bedroom.

“How do you like your pastries, Kaden?” she asked, readjusting her swaddled daughter who had started to fuss in her arms. Though thoroughly sated, once the shadowsinger left their bed this morning, Elain knew she wasn’t going back to sleep and decided to get up and try out a new pastry recipe for breakfast.

The little Illyrian flashed her a big, toothy grin. “I wuv them, momma!” he shouted excitedly, crumbs smeared on his pink lips.

Elain couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at being called momma by him. It had taken quite a while for Kaden to grow comfortable in his new home. He had been living with them for right around five months now and had only begun calling her “momma” a few weeks ago. He had yet to bless Azriel with a fatherly name, much to his dismay, but they both knew that with Kaden’s early childhood ordeal, his attachment to Illyrian males would be a slow one. It would come, he just needed to be patient she assured him.

They also took introducing Kaden to his new family slowly, only allowing them over one at a time so as to not overwhelm him. Meeting Elain’s sisters and Mor went easily enough, but that wasn’t where they were concerned. Though Rhys was the High Lord and half Illyrian, Kaden was clearly more intimidated by Cassian’s larger stature and permanent presence of wings. The general, hoping to bond with the little one, proceeded to sit on the floor with their son for an hour and played with the stuffed bear he brought with him. It wasn’t until Nesta showed up looking for her husband that Cassian departed, happily receiving a shy hug on his one leg before he left.

“I’m glad, sweetie. Maybe next time I make them, you can help momma? Would you like to do that?”

Little hands hit the table in excitement. “Yes! Yes, pwease momma, can we?”

She smiled down at him with so much love. “Of course, baby.” Elain propped Rosalie on her shoulder, running a soothing hand down her back as the terrace door opened and her husband entered. “Look, Kaden. Daddy’s home. Why don’t you go get dressed now so we can head out soon?”

Despite not calling Azriel “daddy” yet, both he and Elain had decided to refer to each other by paternal names in hopes that it would encourage him to make the connection as to who he was to them, and who they were to him.

He was their son.

And they were his parents.

No matter the blood or lineage, nothing would change that.

“Okay!” He wiggled from his chair and made a mad dash from the table to his bedroom as the shadowsinger approached, a soft smile on his face watching Kaden run from the kitchen.

Azriel dropped a kiss to her lips, and then one to the top of Rosalie’s head, his fingers brushing her rogue wisps of curls. “Good morning, my little love,” he whispered.

She couldn’t help but smile at their daughter’s coo of greeting. “What did Rhys need you for so early this morning?” Elain asked as they began clearing the table of the breakfast spread.

Hazel eyes met her gaze and something twisted in her stomach at the worry she saw there. “There’s been a scuffle at one of the Illyrian camps,” he stated, setting dishes in the sink.

Elain’s brows furrowed. “How bad?”

“Rhys, Cassian, and I are about to head there to handle the situation.”

The inflection of his voice told her that there was information left unsaid. “There’s something else.”

Azriel huffed, leaning back against the counter. His strong arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s the camp that Kaden’s biological father is at.”

The thought of that awful male made Elain want to find her son, cradle him in her lap, and never let go. “Do you think we should be concerned?”

He ran a scarred hand through his inky locks. “He’s a camp Lord and we are within the twenty-four-hour window of the Blood Rite, which means he has magic and can winnow. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” Those golden irises blazed in fury.

“Lorenzo didn’t want anything to do with him. Why would he be making a fuss now?” It didn’t make sense. That male lost any right to claim Kaden as his son when he dropped him off at that orphanage and didn’t come back. Elain had later learned that her son had been there going on a year now and the Lord hadn’t made a peep about his child. It was both heartbreak and rage that had warred within her at that knowledge.

The shadowsinger shrugged. “Maybe word got back to him that he was adopted?”

“He left him at an orphanage!” she hissed, patting Rosalie’s back when she started to squirm.

Azriel took a step closer to her, his hand touching the back of his daughter’s head. “I think it could be about who adopted him too,” he said a bit quietly.

Elain’s heart twisted. She knew what he was hinting at. That the camp Lord wouldn’t deem Az worthy enough to raise even a child he gave up. “If he believes you unworthy to love that boy then I’ll kill him myself.”

The corner of his lips turned up briefly. “I will never stop being grateful for your devotion to me, my love.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I know you don’t like to be sidelined and that you can protect yourself, but I think you and the kids should stay away from Illyria today. I just—” a frustrated hand ran through his hair. “I can help but worry that the scuffle at the camp is to pull me away from you three at the orphanage.”

“Az,” she breathed, reaching out to grip his forearm, thumb swiping soothing strokes over his tanned, tattooed skin. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.

He ducked his head. “Of course, I’m scared. He’s my son. Our son. I will do anything to protect him, Rosalie, and you.”

Elain nodded in agreement. “We don’t take chances here, not when it comes to our children. If you think there’s a risk with the three of us going to the camps, no matter how small, we won’t go. I won’t put our babies in danger.”

Her husband let out a sigh of relief, tugging her and Rosalie into his arms. He kissed her softly, conveying all his love and emotion for her and their little family from his lips. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Feyre said she has a morning class with some younger children at the studio today and that you’re more than welcome to bring Kaden by to paint.”

“I think he would like that. Maybe we’ll take a stroll through the Rainbow and the park by the Sidra, too.”

It was rare to see the Night Court spymaster drop all his masks and show his true self. A male so full of love, joy, and devotion. But since the birth of Rosalie, and the adoption of Kaden, Elain had seen it more and more on Azriel’s face. It was her favorite look on him, one he tended to wear when he fed and rocked his little girl to sleep, or when he’d peek in on his son as he slept, checking to make sure he was okay. It was the same look he wore now.

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Padded feet tore down the hallway and slid into the kitchen. Both parents turned to look at a disheveled Kaden.

“Azweel! Can you but-tin my wing slots, pweeze?”

A low chuckle rumbled from Azriel’s chest as he stepped out of her embrace. “Sure buddy, come here.”

Kaden’s undeveloped magic prevented him from being able to button the flaps of his shirt around his wings alone. He’d be able to eventually, but for now, either she or Az would have to help him, not that they minded.

“Wings up,” Azriel said, reaching underneath the membranes to snap the flaps together.

“Where are your shoes?” Elain asked, once his shirt was secured.

Little, tanned toes fluttered on the stone floor. “By the door, momma.”

Her husband helped Kaden tug on his shoes as Elain secured a now sleeping Rosalie to her chest, allowing both her arms to be free. It was a wrap that Feyre swore by when she had Nyx, and Elain was inclined to agree. Having both arms available while she ran errands was indeed a lifesaver.

After explaining the change of plans to Kaden, he reached up and took Azriel’s ring and pinky finger in his small hand. “Are you coming with us?”

Her husband knelt, “Sorry, buddy. Uncle Rhys needs daddy’s help right now.”

Kaden’s lower lip jutted out in a way that Elain knew Azriel struggled to say no to. Even now, she could see the war of his vow to his High Lord and the need to protect his son dance across his face with his desire to stay with them.

He cleared his throat. “Tell you what; as soon as I’m finished with your uncle, I’ll meet up with you guys and we’ll spend the rest of the day together. How does that sound?”

The little Illyrian brightened, and he shouted in glee.

Az tugged him to his chest, kissing him on the top of his black hair. “I’ll see you later, son. I love you.”

“I wuv you too, Azweel.”

He stood, turning back to her.

“Be safe,” Elain said lowly enough to not let Kaden overhear them.

Az nodded. “I will. I’ll come home as soon as I can.” He slid a hand to her jaw to kiss her, careful of their daughter between them, then pecked the top of Rosalie’s head. “I love you,” he whispered to them both, before vanishing into the shadows.

Elain’s stomach turned restlessly. Something about the whole situation still didn’t feel right, but she would stay strong for both her husband and her son. Swallowing her nerves, she took Kaden’s hand to make their way into the bustling streets of Velaris.

~~~

The three of them strolled through the park along the glittering waters of the Sidra River having finished their painting session earlier and a delicious lunch at a small café moments ago. Kaden’s painting was sitting at Feyre’s studio, which Elain was to go pick up in a few days once it was dry. It was mostly strokes of colors and handprints, but she still thought it was the most beautiful artwork, biased or not.

Warm rays of the sun beat down on them, bringing about a flush of color on her skin and the golden hues on both of her children’s darker complexions.

Kaden had taken off, chasing after a colorful butterfly.

Elain followed the sounds of his giggles. “Stay close, Kaden!” she called when he got a bit too far for her comfort.

Ever the good listener, he rounded back towards her, stopping to look at a small coping of rose bushes. “Look, momma! Woses!” he shouted, the r sound still coming out like a w. It was something they were working on with him.

“Yes, they are, good job!” she said back, stopping beneath a shaded tree for some much-needed cooling. Kaden had taken to her garden and she took the time to teach him the names of the various plants and flowers she was growing.

Elain placed a hand on the top of Rosalie’s head, feeling the warmth of it. It was an unusually balmy spring day, one that predicted the early onset of summer.

A blip on the horizon caught her eye. She watched it as it came closer, membranous wings flapping to send it hurtling through the sky towards her.

Elain’s head cocked as she studied the movement, so unlike her husband’s elegance, Cassian’s strong presence, or even Rhys’s regal grace. Brown eyes widened as she realized who, exactly, was flying towards her.

Towards her son.

She was moving then. “Kaden!” she screamed, “Kaden, come here, right now!”

At his mother’s distressed voice, he turned, running towards her.

With a hand holding onto the back of Rosalie, Elain cradled Kaden’s head and shoved him behind her just as the Illyrian male slammed into the ground in front of them. She felt the impact through her feet.

The park was fairly empty, but the few fae present took off at the sight of the unknown Illyrian, leaving her utterly alone with him.

Kaden’s fists gripped the skirts of her lilac dress, and though every instinct in her told her never to back down from a threat, she would not risk it with both of her children in the line of fire. Elain stepped back, moving her son with her.

The male, a version of what her son may one day have features of, savagely grinned down at her. A sharp jaw, high cheekbones with a long nose. His hair was worn similar to how Cassian kept his, but a shade or two lighter. He wasn’t as large as her husband, she realized. Az had him beat by several inches and his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad. But even with that knowledge, everything about the male in front of her screamed warrior.

Dangerous.

Threat.

Her magic rumbled in her chest in response. The siphon on her ring flared once, throwing up a thin barrier between them and him—Azriel’s magic sealed away for when she needed it. The shadow that adorned her finger as a wedding band vanished.

“So,” he drawled, sounding utterly bored. “I finally get to meet the pretty, little pet that has captured the heart of the bastard-born shadowsinger.”

Elain snarled at the taunt. “Watch your tongue, Lorenzo,” she snapped.

That malicious grin grew. “And you’ve heard of me. Perfect. Hand over my son, and I’ll be on my way.”

She angled herself, shielding Kaden further behind her. “He is not your son. Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you flap your way back to where you came from.”

The smirk faded and something far deadlier took its place. “My blood runs through his veins—”

“Blood doesn’t make you a father,” she spat, vehemently. “You lost your right to claim him when you left him at that orphanage. Kaden is mine and Azriel’s son. Now and forever.”

“If you think I’m going to let you and that pathetic excuse of an Illyrian raise—”

Her blood raged like a weathered storm. One that toppled the largest of ships and swept armies into the depths of the sea. Her magic responded in kind, light bursting out of her and shoving him back a step. His eyes widened at the surprise drop she got on him. “That pathetic excuse of an Illyrian is a thousand times more of a male than you could ever dream of being. And if you say one more thing like that about my husband, I will gut you here in this park.”

The red siphon flickered on his chest in response to her attack. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” he demanded, voice edging dangerously close to levels Elain knew meant he was about to lose his temper.

She curled the corner of her mouth up. “A low-level camp lord with a single siphon? Yes, I know exactly who I’m speaking to.” She threw as much disdain in her voice as she could muster. “I think the better question is, do you know who you’re speaking to?” At his silence, she grinned. “Cauldron-blessed Seer. The Mother reincarnated. And what are you here doing? Trying to take a child away from his mother. Believe me when I say I won’t let that happen.”

“I’ll end you and your brat if need be,” he countered, taking a step forward to try and intimidate her.

But Elain had felt another’s presence as he neared. Saw in her peripheral vision the dark swath of shadows above their heads. “You hurt me or my daughter, you take my son, and I can promise you that you won’t make it out of Velaris alive.”

Before he could respond, a solid mass of muscle and wings dropped from the sky, forcing Lorenzo to take a step back lest he wanted to be smashed beneath Azriel’s large frame. Her husband’s knees bent as he landed, absorbing the impact. As he stood to his full height, his wings stretched out, blocking her and their children from the other male’s view.

The ground shook from his landing, and Elain felt Kaden push himself further into her legs. She brushed her thumb over the back of his head, hoping to soothe him with her touch.

“Get back,” Azriel growled, voice colder than what he used as the Night Court spymaster. Shadows skittered out, flitting around her and the kids, searching for any signs of injury. When they finished their assessment, they turned their attention back on Lorenzo, swirling like shards of ice, pushing him back, back, back. “Stay away from my son.”

“He is not your son.”

"We adopted him. We took him into our home. We fed him, and clothed him, and loved him. He is as much our son as our daughter is and nobody is going to take that away from us.” He took several steps forward, forcing the male backward again.

With the added space between them, Elain felt the shield in front of her reinforce itself.

“Momma,” Kaden croaked through the plaits of her skirts. Large tears filled his hazel eyes.

Her hand swept through his hair. “It’s okay, Kaden. You’re safe.” She pulled him closer to her hip, letting her other hand come down to rest protectively on his cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tears that spilled over his dark lashes.

Kaden buried his face back into swaths of her dress.

Thunder cracked like two boulders crashing together.

Elain’s head snapped to the side to see Rhys step out of rolling darkness, decked in his full Illyrian leathers. His lack of normal attire told her he had come ready for bloodshed.

“Lorenzo,” the High Lord drawled. “You’re far from home.”

The other Illyrian, seeing he was now outnumbered, grew even more furious. “I came to take what was is mine,” he fumed, reaching back for the sword sheathed across his back.

“He is not some object for you to collect,” Az stated furiously.

“He is mine,” the Lord shot back.

Azriel tensed, glancing back at her and then looking down at Kaden who was peeking at them behind her skirts.

Elain saw his hand twitch for the legendary dagger strapped to his thigh, but he didn’t grab it.

He returned his gaze to Lorenzo. “I’m not going to end your life here, no matter that you deserve it. My son has already seen enough bloodshed in his short life because of you. I won’t add to that.”

The camp Lord just smiled, “Then you’re only going to make him as weak as you are.” And then he struck, the Illyrian metal singing as it aimed for a killing blow—decapitation.

Seven blue siphons flared. Lorenzo went flying backward, his sword ripped from his hand by shadows.

“Daddy!”

“Kaden!” Elain screamed, reaching out to try and stop the little Illyrian from running into the fray, but it was too late.

His little legs carried him fast over the ground and Azriel barely had a chance to whip around before a little body tackled him. “Daddy!” he cried again, clutching at his leathers with small fists.

A blue shield shot up, enclosing her husband and her son in a protective barrier. He wasted no time lifting Kaden into his arms, a scarred hand threading through his black tresses to hold him close.

Tiny arms went around his neck as Kaden pressed his damp face above the collar of his Illyrian leathers. “I don’t wanna go,” he whimpered into his shoulder.

Azriel moved his hand from the back of his head to between his wings, rubbing strokes like he would when his son would wake with nightmares. “You’re not going anywhere, Kaden. Nobody is taking you from us.” He kissed the side of his head, allowing a few minutes to comfort his son.

Elain’s heart ached, wanting to go to them, but also not wanting to let a second child get too close to Lorenzo’s unhinged state again.

Azriel nodded towards her, assuring her that their son was safe.

It sent a wave of relief rushing through her.

He turned, finding Rhys hauling Lorenzo to his feet.

The disgust on the Illyrian male’s face at her husband holding their son made her hackles rise, enough so that her magic rumbled in response. She dampened it, not wanting to wake her daughter that somehow had stayed asleep through everything so far.

The look of the spymaster replaced Az’s hardened features. “I granted you a chance to walk away. I want you to remember that when your High Lord winnows you back to the camp to face him and your general. But if you come after my family again, you even have thoughts about my son, your life is forfeited.” Azriel gave his brother a curt nod, watching as the High Lord and Lorenzo winnowed away.

Shields lowered and both parents were striding for each other. Tears pricked her eyes as her husband embraced her and Rosalie with one arm, still holding Kaden in his other. Scarred fingers found her jaw, tilting her head up to bring their mouths together in a desperate kiss, needing to feel her presence. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes darting to check over their daughter.

“We’re fine,” she breathed, her hand reaching up to lay it on Kaden’s lower back, rubbing it. She glanced back up at her husband’s face, seeing a look of awe that had settled there.

He called me daddy, he mouthed at her, silver lining his eyes. He had been waiting for Kaden’s willingness to grace him with that name—had been getting antsy for it.

Elain let out a choked sound, gripping her husband’s wrist with her other hand. I know, she mouthed back.

Kaden twisted his head, propping his cheek on Azriel’s shoulder, his arms were still wrapped around his neck.

The shadowsinger dropped a kiss to his forehead as Elain let her nails scratch at his back. “I was going to suggest we go get a frozen treat after our walk,” she started, catching her son’s eyes. There was a far-off look that she didn’t like seeing. “Does that sound good to you, Kaden?”

The little Illyrian nodded, though he gave no vocal response.

It worried her, his unwillingness to speak. They had broken through so many barriers in getting him to open up after he came home with them—she hated the idea of this setting him back. “Do you want to see if daddy can join us?” she tried, seeing how he clung to his father, though she knew Az had no intentions of leaving them alone.

Not for a while.

She also knew Az was well aware of what she was trying to do too.

Kaden was silent for a moment, but both parents waited patiently, giving him the time to voice his thoughts. “Can you, daddy?” he finally whispered.

The shadowsinger visibly hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “Of course, we can,” he choked out. The emotional vulnerability rang clear in his voice. Lifting Kaden higher up on his hip, Azriel took Elain’s hand in his scarred one and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.

Her heart swelled. Resting a hand on the back of a still sleeping Rosalie, the family of four strolled through the park and spent the rest of the day enjoying treats and each other’s company.

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than their worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

102 notes · View notes

hansolmates · 4 years ago

Text

remote learning (m)

summary; working remote sucks, and you would love a little relief. after buying a new toy to blow off some steam, you’re baffled when you can’t cum. however, jungkook thinks you’re doing it wrong, and shows you a thing or two. pairing; neighbor!jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; fluff, humor, slightly insecure mc, this is pure FILTH—use of a remote controlled vibrator, do not and i repeat DO NOT try foreplay during a zoom call in the event u get fired im not responsible, phone sex, jungkook’s a meanie in control, cum eating, doggy, and topping it off with some sweet missionary bc jk has purty eyes, unprotected (wrap the pickle before u tickle folks) excessive use of the petname [redacted] w/c; 5.7k a/n; this fic manifested bc of work. and i!! am!! frustrated!! i think we all need a lil jk relief so here it goes! as always ty to @chillingtae / @eerieedits for this FANTASTIC fic banner, please go check vivi out if u have taste okok part 2: distance learning drabbles; 01

if u like this fic pls consider giving it a like and a share💕💕💕💕

“Tomorrow morning, same time at 9AM. Remember to have your reports alphabetized and itemized,” your supervisor says, but the only thing you can focus on is the abnormal amount of bonsai plants in his living room.

“Alright now it’s time for the union to talk COVID protocol,” you frown when Mr. Kim moves ownership of the Zoom call to your union rep, who pulls up a Powerpoint. You feel your eyes burn at the sight: an itinerary containing over thirty-eight slides.

“For fuck’s sake—”

You so desperately want to turn off the camera and flop in your bed. Since working remotely you haven’t been operating in the most ideal of workspaces. You live in a one-room apartment with a communal kitchen downstairs, so you really only have four square meters to stretch your limbs around between breaks. You’ve pushed your bed aside and shoved an office chair between the bed and the wall, leaving you to squirm between ten centimeters of space. You have no desk because well, the little rectangle space is prioritized for your portable stove and meals.

The meeting drones on for another hour, until your brain melts to liquid and your limbs feel like Jell-O. Furthering your anxiety as they talk about protocol that never ends up happening, delays that continue to pile up, and the anger that’s been bubbling between the higher ups and little goldfish employees like you.

When you finally shut off the camera and fling your laptop under the bed, you still feel unsettled. Probably because your work life and home life have merged together, and it’s hard for you to separate work and pleasure.

Speaking of pleasure.

Your hand blindly reaches under your bed, looking for the pretty pink oval you purchased last week. Cleaned and ready to use, the little remote-controlled vibrator sits plainly in your palm.

Needless to stay you’ve been in a bit of a dry spot these past few months. With a fear to go out and meet someone new, you’ve been left with yourself and your fantasies. That’s fine, but lately your old vibrator isn’t cutting it. It’s unfortunate, you think you’re messing up your libido by buying toy after toy, but you’re horny and lonely.

Linking your phone’s app to the remote, you ignore the messages that have been beeping your feed since early morning.

[11:21] Jeon: let’s do lunch!

[11:23] Jeon: hehe i feel like i belong in mean girls. Do lunch💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️💁🏻‍♀️

[2:20] Jeon: u loozer. Come eat dinner with us upstairs @6

[2:24] Jeon: dropping off a snack for u

Another element of feeling horny and lonely? Jeon Jungkook.

You two shouldn’t have even met each other. You live off crumbs on the first floor while he and his roommates are livin’ it up on top in the penthouse. One day a few months ago he crashed into you while working out, having run up and down the whole flight of stairs at least three times before deciding to collapse on you between the second and first floor.

Despite the black mask that hugged his sharp jawline, you had felt nothing but attractiveness ooze off of him. Under his hoodie was nothing but curved muscle. He smelled so soft and sweet despite the fact that he was damp with sweat.

The rest is history. After that day he seemed to show up everywhere, jogging more prominently on your floor and doing exercises at your level’s gym. He says he likes you, likes your company. He’s wormed his way intermittently, whether he’s seeing you struggle with an armful of groceries or when he hears you screaming over an Among Us match (according to Jungkook, the walls are thinner on the bottom floors.)

The idea of Jungkook doting on you doubly frustrates you. He seemingly appears as the perfect man, unaffected by the stresses of the world. Jungkook’s job lets him work from home anyway, and he definitely had enough room in the penthouse for his own office. He works out, probably has a girlfriend and enough friends for you to gradually phase out of this weird neighbor interest.

So you ignore his seemingly harmless messages, focusing on getting the settings right on the vibrator. You feel your pussy jolt a little in excitement, watching the silver and pearl pink oval shake in your grasp. You smile a bit to yourself, immediately finding your iPad for your favorite videos and some pillows to support your back.

Half an hour later however, that excitement soon goes sour.

“Fuck,” you bite your lip, frustrated tears streaming down your face, “fuck fuck fuck!”

This isn’t a set of explicatives out of pleasure, unfortunately.

No matter what you do, you won’t cum. You can’t cum. Barely wet, hardly a drop glossing your folds. You don’t even want to bother getting out the lube at this point because you are so disappointed.

The vibrator is going at the highest setting, one that your neighbors can probably hear if they were home at this time of the day. You cease to care at this point, because the job is undone because you haven’t come undone.

You don’t know why this is happening. Maybe it’s because you’ve had the liberty to touch yourself in complete silence, now that your neighbors have been confined to their homes indefinitely. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long since you’ve relied only on your touch, that your body is tired of the monotony and needs more.

You bang the heels of your feet against your flimsy mattress, feeling whiny and utterly dissatisfied. Pulling the vibrator from your clit, you glare at the infuriating toy.

“You’re supposed to be helping me out of my dry spell,” you chastise, throwing the toy across the bed, sliding onto the carpet, “I get you’re not Jeon’s dick, but you gotta help a sister out.”

With a sigh, you fall into a bout of exhaustion. Not from a round of orgasms, but from the week’s stress and no way to let it out.

You wake up bleary and disoriented, practically melding through the mattress. The sky is pink and blue, washed in a sea of corals and purples. It comes from the incessant banging.

“Stop it,” you whine more to yourself than whoever dares to disturb your sleep, pulling up your panties and a pair of navy dolphin-trim shorts. “Whoever you are I’m comin’ so stop!”

Swinging the door open in two strides you’re met with a chipper Jeon Jungkook; looking all cute and sweet in his big hoodie and smelling like a rosebud.

“It’s 6:30,” he narrows his eyes playfully at you, “dinner’s in the oven.”

“You left your oven on,” you deadpan, turning around to grimace at the mess that’s your one-room apartment.

“Yes, so we have exactly ten minutes before my kitchen explodes in flames,” Jungkook chirps, closing the door behind you.

You don’t even bother to tell him to excuse the mess, ignore the pile of bras hanging on your vanity and the unpacked groceries that sit at the edge of your mini-fridge. It’s far too late to salvage your dignity and Jungkook’s too damn polite to call you out on your state of slob. Although, as you pull out a bottle of wine tucked in the back of your fridge you blurt, “I can hear your fingers tingling to clean up my mess.”

When you turn around Jungkook stuffs his hands in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, supposedly to stop himself from cleaning up. With a pout he says, “Can’t help it, Jimin says I’m currently manifesting a strong display of Virgo energy this month. Whatever that means.”

Jabbing your feet in a pair of slides you follow Jungkook out the door. The hallways are quiet and barren, yet the silence isn’t suffocating as you two pile into the elevator. Jungkook opens the keypad underneath the regular boring buttons, revealing a sleek little set of light-up buttons that have the code to the penthouse. Faaaannnnccy.

“Tryna look?” he jokes, cupping his hands to block your vision.

You scoff, “I’m sure it’s something easy like 0000.”

“You’re wrong. It’s 1234,” he replies cheekily.

The door dings open and you’re met with yet another door. Jungkook presses his thumb to the biometric scanner, and a pleasant ringer tings in response.

The penthouse smells like a mix of tonight’s dinner, savory, combined with a cinnamon apple candle. Jungkook is a fan of scented candles, ever since he got a whiff of your lavender vanilla burner.

“Where’s Taehyung?” you ask, more out of your own anxiousness than anything. Taehyung’s your buffer, the hyper roommate being someone to distract you from Jungkook’s incessant aura.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, flicking on the oven light to peer inside. You see the telltale signs of a mean lasagna, the shredded cheese on top crisping to a delicious-looking golden brown, “anyway, you’re my friend first.”

As grotesque as it sounds, Jungkook always finds his way to worm his way under your skin and find homage there. “Possessive much?” you quirk a brow, folding your arms over your chest even though there’s nothing to hide.

“What can I say,” Jungkook’s legs stretch out as he squats down to your level, “I really fell for you.”

“Gross,” you try to convince yourself, ignoring the thudding in your chest, “you technically fell on me, weirdo.”

Dinner is a quick affair. He cuts slices of lasagna and brings it to the couch, where you’re pouring glasses of wine in crystal glasses. They’re so clean and shiny you can see your reflection in the gold liquid. You grimace at the bottle, normally this would be poured in a mug or your sippy cup, tonight your liquid’s getting a high-end pour.

You two pull up an old anime to fill up the room, but most of it is spent in playful banter. Jungkook prattles on about his day, showing you all the cool updates he’s achieved during work. An app developer. A very on-brand, lucrative job for him. You love your job but it isn’t nearly as exciting as Jungkook’s, so you just let yourself be supportive and ask questions when needed.

When the subject of you comes up, you shake your head and stuff your face with another cut of al dente pasta.

“Not interestin’ Jeon,” you mumble, groaning at how delicious his cooking is. What can’t he do? “Is this oregano? Is the secret ingredient toasted oregano—”

“You’re deflecting.”

Your shoulders slump, “I’m not very interesting, I tell you everything I do during the week and nothing has changed since March.”

“Oh, not everything,” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You furrow your brows as his hands stuff themselves in his hoodie pocket. Is he upset you won’t tell him about your work stress? “And you’re very interesting, I’ll have you know.”

“Yeah?” a small smile tugs on your lips. You sink further into his cottonball of a couch, feeling utterly soft and meldable at his words.

“Very,” Jungkook gets up from the couch, looking down at you, “want something sweet?”

The prospect of dessert has you excited. Jungkook really is the perfect man, so kind and knows exactly when you’re craving something for your sweet tooth. You move to get up, only for you to sink further between the two large cushions of the loveseat. “Help me, ’m stuck,” you pout.

Jungkook giggles, and holds out his palm, “Hand,” he says simply.

You immediately reach for his larger palm, and you gasp when you feel something cold and soft touch your palm. As if you’ve been burned, you tug your hand back. But Jungkook’s hand is massive, the large ink-painted palm curling around your own, and it’s almost painful the way he clutches your hand so fiercely.

When he’s sure you’re not going to drop it, he releases your hand.

Nestled in your palm, is the new vibrator you left on the carpet this afternoon.

“Jeon,” you laugh tonelessly, hating the way Jungkook’s neutral expression mocks you, “you found my USB? Thanks, I know—”

“Know that you’re having a hard time coming?” Carefully extracting your plate from your lap, he places it on the coffee table before Jungkook cages you between the couch. You shrink further into the plush seat, “I tried being a good neighbor, but you didn’t answer my texts. I heard you when I tried dropping off some snacks before dinner. Didn’t know you were into toys.”

“Oh, c’mon Jeon. It’s 2020 and we’re confined,” well, in this scenario you’re confined, “everyone has a sex toy.”

“Hm, I don’t have one,” Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, pretending to be deep in thought, “so, can you be my toy?”

Fuck.

It’s then that you feel the tell-tale signs of arousal. Your eyes widen, innocently surprised at the fact that Jeon Jungkook contained so much power in so few words. You snap your legs shut immediately, sealing any possibility of you dripping down your panties.

“I heard how disappointed you were, doll,” his arms have no problems as he bends down so he’s eye-level with your crotch, “it was pathetic, really. You couldn’t even cum on your own? You need someone to help you?”

“N-no,” you cross your arms defensively, frowning, “you–you’re being mean, Jeon.”

“And what, you’re gonna cry about it?” Jungkook smirks, now sitting on his knees. His hands run over the velvety fabric of the couch, making a beeline for your thighs. Gooseflesh rises to the surface, and he immediately presses down to iron out the little bumps that travel across your skin, “I do wanna make you cry, but not because you can’t cum. You’ll cry because of how good I’m gonna make you feel.”

You gape, clutching the vibrator in your hand.

A little bit of your sweet, cute Jungkook resurfaces, softening when he notices your lack of response, “If you’ll let me, of course.”

You finally drag the words from your throat, “I-it’s been a long time since I’ve… been with someone.”

He tilts his head, “Same here. I just figured we could break that spell together.”

What are you going to say? No? A dishonor to your sexuality, that would be. Jungkook’s offering himself up on a silver platter, and even though you do wish it was a little more you’ll take the sex.

You nod, forgetting to speak again. Jungkook chuckles.

“I want to hear you say it, doll.”

Doll. Like you’re his little fucktoy, malleable and bendable to all his whims. Fuck, why is that so hot to you? “Yes, I want to have sex with you,” you declare, your voice sounding more breathy than confident, “a-and, you can be mean. If you want.”

His thumbs press little light indents in your skin, over and over as if fascinated by the way your skin is so soft and gummy in his grip. “Okay,” Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to pull out his phone, jabbing a few things that you don’t see, “let’s do a little test drive, then.”

In seconds, the little egg vibrates in your touch. He puts it on the lowest setting, a soft buzz echoing in the large living room, then at a bruising pace that forces you to curl your fingers around it otherwise it’d fall. Your eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s, who’s focusing entirely on the way the pink and silver egg moves, dilated in interest.

“Fuck, and you thought this thing was broken?” he asks, taking it out of your palm and turning off the app.

“Maybe I’m the broken one,” you admit softly, wringing your shirt.

Silence seeps. Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed as if he’s annoyed. “Don’t ever say that,” when you don’t respond, he grabs your chin, and you gasp when he forces you to look at him, “you’re not broken, doll. Everyone’s body is different, and we’re going to discover yours together. Got it?”

“Y-yes,” you reply immediately, mesmerized by his seriousness.

“Good,” he slaps the vibrator back in your palm, “and in case you’re wondering, this goes inside.”

“I know how it works,” you scowl, “but won’t you show me, just in case?”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook gets up for good, piling the dishes in his arms and walking to the sink. You immediately miss his warmth, “but I think patience is a virtue. I have a developer meeting with some clients in America a little bit, actually. So just wait for my call, yeah?”

You frown, looking down at the vibrator in your hands. How much longer would you have to wait?

It happens at exactly three in the afternoon the next day, at the start of your staff meeting. You’re so tired of the same information being thrown back and forth, coupled with Brian and Jae having to fight over some mundane subject in the itinerary that no one cares about. For goodness sake, it’s Friday! What else would you possibly need to be meeting about?

You’re wearing a button-down dress shirt on top, no pants on the bottom. Your bare feet slap against the hardwood floor, antsy. It’s been a long day at work and your back hurts, you’re half tempted to dip out of this meeting and hope no one notices.

Your phone buzzes on your bed, and you blanch.

[3:01] Jeon: thanks for waiting, doll. It’s time

[3:01] Jeon: put it in

Shamelessly, your vibrator sits next to your phone, cleaned and ready to go.

[3:02] Jeon: need help? Answer my call

Making sure that your Zoom call is muted, you quickly answer the incoming phone call. Jungkook and you say nothing at first, waiting. The phone just ticks with the amount of time passing, one minute, two minutes, and so on.

Mr. Kim drones unknowingly, “So when we do return to live instruction, expect a strict process when returning. PPE must be enforced so our response team will—”

“How wet were you last night when you went home?” Jungkook asks languidly, speaking over your boss’ voice.

Your eyes widen, flickering back and forth between the phone and the camera displaying Mr. Kim’s boring speech.

“Doll, are you hard of hearing?”

“N-no,” your lips barely move, eyes glued to the camera and plastering an expressionless face, “I heard you.”

“Then give me an answer,” he says patiently, “how wet were you?”

“Very wet.”

“Little more detail.”

“Soaking wet,” you flush, thankful that your work laptop can only stream in 360p. “I haven’t gotten that wet in such—such a long time. My pussy was practically clinging to my underwear when I washed up that night.”

A heady, heavy groan resonates through your phone. You feel that voice straight into your panties, jolting the nerves awake.

“Fuck, you have a way with words, don’t you?” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly, “c’mon, touch yourself for me. Swirl your fingers around your clit, slowly.”

It takes a second for you to position yourself, spreading your legs in a way that your coworkers don’t question why you’re moving so much. A quick scan over all the tired faces says that you’re okay. Shyly, you press your fingers against your clit, doing as he says.

“Oh,” you say more to yourself than him, feeling the wetness already coating your fingers. This is earlier than usual.

“What?”

“I’m already wet,” you say, amazed, “I haven’t gotten wet this quickly in a long time.”

He scoffs, “If you’re so wet now, shove it in.”

You frown. You did tell him to be mean. But the idea of him telling you what to do, giving you all the porn-worthy experiences to accomplish has you relenting. Discreetly grabbing the egg from the bed, you bring it down to your panties. Swirling the cold metal around your clit, you coat it in your juices.

It’s still a little too early to be putting anything in, but you can take it. Slowly relaxing, you slip the little egg in your pussy, wiggling it a little to make sure it’s secure. It’s a strange sort of pressure, and it pokes against your clit from the inside, but you enjoy the stretch.

“It’s in,” you reply softly.

“Good.”

You wait. You listen to Jae make yet another speech about the importance of masks and gloves, and then Brian has to interject and say that gloves are literally useless because they spread germs around no matter what. Even though everyone else is muted, you can practically feel the misery seeping through the screen. For a second you almost forget about Jungkook on the line. Why isn’t Mr. Kim stopping them? This is the thin line stopping you from the weekend, unbelievable!

“Eep!” you jolt in your cheap seat, the egg buzzing in your pussy. Your hands fly out, gripping the edges of your computer.

It hits different when Jungkook is in control. Knowing that with a flick of his thumb he can have you careening, whining for more or less depending on how hard he wants you go. Your folds hug the egg, nestling it a fleshy grip as it brushes against your clit the more you squirm.

“You look so pretty, trying so hard to hold in your moans,” Jungkook says wondrously from the other line.

“W-what?” you frown, “you can see me?”

And immediately, you go to your trackpad to fish between the hundred-and-one employees also in this call. At the very end, you see a very simple name with no mic or camera: Jeon JK. He’s here.

“Worked in IT, doll. Know a thing or two,” he says, “now, tell me. What are you thinking about right now?”

“Y-you,” you mumble shyly.

“So,” Mr. Kim finally ends that part of the meeting, thank goodness, “what’s everyone’s plans this weekend? I’m going apple picking with a couple of my friends from college. Hoseok is a bright bean who loves to take long walks—”

What the hell. You squirm uncomfortably in your seat, hyperaware that Jungkook’s watching your every move. You make glossy, stubborn eyes at the camera, trying not to move when he jacks up the vibrator to a higher setting.

Jae’s of course the next employee to unmute his microphone, “Well, me and the bae are going house hunting…”

“Fuck!” you cry, moving the computer to the left so you can pretend you’re picking up something. But in fact you're leaning your head against your mattress, frustrated. “I don’t fucking care about your weekend plans, Jae! Shut the fuck up! You wanna know my weekend plans?” Jungkook’s laughing at you from the other line, but it only spurs you on, “my plans are fucking my super hot neighbor! He’s a hundred times more interesting than you and he’s going to make me come a hundred times this weekend—oh fuck!”

Your fingers latch onto your panties, drawing random squiggles and letters between the fabric. You’re damp, soaked to the core. You need some sort of friction, a reprieve from this hellish week.

“You flatter me, doll,” Jungkook is definitely grinning through the phone, you can practically hear his shit-eating grin, “I think you deserve a reward. As soon as you put the camera back on your pretty face.”

Quickly, you sit up to put the camera on you again. Once again, the employees are in a daze, listening to whatever the next person gabs about their weekend. Even though you can’t really see it, you’re sure Jungkook has a 1080p camera upstairs that shows off your blotchy face. You moan a little bit, lips closed as the egg buzzes against your pussy lips.

“You’re so cute, doll,” Jungkook praises, “you look so professional, holding it in. What could I do to make you unravel? Hm, what if you imagined the taste of my cock on your lips? Fuck, I’d love to slap your cute little face with my cock, baby doll–”

“y/n?” Mr. Kim calls your name, and you freeze, “what about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Jungkook doesn’t sound angry that your boss has inadvertently cut him off. “Answer him, doll. Be a good little employee.”

Like a zombie, you move towards the unmute button. “I–I uh,” you shake your head, trying to formulate a coherent response, “I’m going on a date this weekend.”

Jungkook jacks up the vibrator to high, and your legs are shaking.

“Awh, a date!” Mr. Park unmutes himself, practically shoving the camera in his face, “how much do you like the lucky lad or lady?”

“I like him uh—ah—” you pretend to think, covering a hand over your mouth to hide the fact that you feel your orgasm fast approaching, “I like him a lot!” you finally blurt, “I’m, uh, really excited to see him.”

“Best of luck to you,” Mr. Kim says brightly, “so Jimin, any news on those investors you had dinner with this weekend? I heard a lot of positive things…”

You immediately mute your mic, and pretend to lag as you fumble around with the camera. Shoving the laptop to the side once more you groan into your sheets, “Fuck—fuck yes—” you moan, shaking your head as you dip your fingers into your panties. The vibrator still continues at its bruising pace, spurring you to a high you haven’t peaked to in months.

“Good job,” Jungkook says simply, “could barely notice that you have a little helper fiddling around your dripping pussy.”

“J-Jeon,” you cry, “I’m, ’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook eggs you on, “you’re gonna cum around that cute little vibrator? Gonna soak it in your juices?”

“W-wish it was your cock I was soaking,” you whisper truthfully, letting your orgasm take you at the thought. Your folds flutter around the vibrator, bringing you to a level of sensitivity you’ve only dreamt of, “Ah, yes, Jeon. It feels s-so good!”

“Yes baby,” Jungkook groans through the line, “feels good, huh?”

Mr. Kim interrupts for the last time, “And with that, I think our meeting is adjourned. Have a wonderful weekend! Stay safe and—”

You slam the laptop shut, grabbing your phone and keys. “I’m going up,” you mutter impatiently, already jabbing your feet in a pair of slippers and locking the door to your apartment behind you.

“I’m waiting,” he replies, eagerness trimming his voice.

“Password?” you ask quickly, jabbing the elevator door shut once you step inside. Thank goodness you’re alone, you think as you pull your dress shirt further down your ass.

“Did you forget already?” he teases, “I told you, it’s 1234.”

Thankfully, the doors zip you up straight to the penthouse. The connection is always a little spotty in elevators, and you sigh longingly when you feel the buzz jolt and leave it’s momentum, quickly losing its rhythm between your dripping folds. Once you get to the top and the elevator doors open the second door immediately swings open, revealing a soft but aroused-looking Jungkook. He looks fresh from the shower, absolutely radiant and delicious looking.

You don’t hesitate to run up to him, and Jungkook immediately cups his face in your hands, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re practically on your tippy-toes, and you squeak against his lips when he hooks his arms around your shoulders, immediately lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his trim waist, not wanting to stop kissing him. He’s like the sweetest ambrosia, a taste you can’t get enough of.

The connection to your vibrator has resumed, and you can’t help but grind helplessly under Jungkook’s clothed abs as he carries the both of you to his bedroom.

“N-need you to fuck me,” you bury your head in the crook of his neck, pressing quick kisses to his jawline, “I want you s-so badly.”

“Hello to you too,” he husks, shutting the bedroom door with his foot.

Jungkook drops you unceremoniously, and your limbs splay out on the fresh bedsheets of his feather-soft mattress.

“You look gorgeous like this, doll.” he sighs longingly, a hand going under your buttondown to press against your soaked panties. His hand lingers on the way your pussy moves in tandem with the vibrator.

“J-Jeon please I can’t take it—”

“Stop calling me that,” he snaps, hands leaving your skin.

You whine at the loss of contact, “Jeon, no. Jungkook. Kook, my Kook. Please, I need you.”

That gets him going. His pretty chocolate brown eyes zero in on you, and he immediately shucks off his shirt and sweatpants, “How much do you need me?” he asks, pulling out his phone and pressing some buttons, “how much do you need your Kook?”

The vibrator stops. You cry out in frustration, unsure if it’s because it’s off or because Jungkook’s taking too damn long. “I need you so much, Kook,” you warble with a pout, moving to undo the top buttons of your dress shirt to reveal your cleavage, “honey, you can have me all you want later today. I want you to slap my face with your dick, edge me until I cry, anything. I’m all yours, I’m your little doll. But please for now, I need to feel you inside me.”

“Say no more,” his lips latch onto your neck, and you sigh at the skin-to-skin contact. His hand fiddles under your shirt, clutching a breast and slapping it so hard it bounces back and forth, “fuck, you’re so pretty.”

His hand moves to your plain cotton panties, immediately shucking them off, “doll, you really are dripping,” he’s impressed, surprised when he has to untack the fabric from your glossy legs. He hangs the panties on his wooden headboard, a little ornament for him to jack off to later.

His fingers brush over your folds, wasting no time to slip the vibrator out. He holds it between your faces, forcing you to stare at the pearly substance that coats the entirety of the egg. “Mm, tasty tasty,” he cooes, pink tongue darting out to lick a long strip across the oval.

You tug him closer, pressing his lips to yours. He tastes a mixture of his own saliva and your arousal, and you grind helplessly against him. You feel how big his cock is, rock-hard and trying very diligently not to bust. He must have a crazy amount of control, and it drives you nuts.

“Kook,” you frown, bumping your crotch with his.

“Impatient, good thing I am too,” he shucks off his boxers while you unbutton the rest of your shirt, “knees and hands, doll.”

You don’t care how or what way he’ll take you. Fuck, he could bend you into an Auntie Anne’s pretzel and you’d comply.

Arching your back so your ass is in the air, you wiggle around, hoping he’ll take the bait. That’s when you sigh, feeling the tip of his dick brush against your wetness.

“Soaking my cock already, baby,” he says, “you’re so good to me.”

And finally, finally, he slips in. You don’t even care that it stretches you a little too far and too long, it’s been too damn long since you’ve had decent dick and Jungkooks far more than decent.

He goes at a quick pace, finally showing how impatient he’s been all this time. Your moans and groans fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and pain as he stretches your walls to the brim. You hold a pillow to your chest, feeling woozy at the way his fat cock stretches you out.

“F-fuck yeah,” the pace is hard, you practically feel it in your belly, and you love it. “You feel so fucking tight, baby,” he’s all up in your ear, kissing the lobe briefly, “I love the way you suck my cock back in.”

“Kook,” you press your ass back, “harder, please. I’m your little doll, right? Y-you can fuck me however you want, as hard as you want! Please, ah—! Use me!”

You cry out when he slips from your folds, immediately flipping you on your back. He wastes no time to wet his dick, lifting one leg over his shoulder to have you deeper. This position is far more intimate, and your noses are practically touching as he thrusts into you.

You can’t believe you’re in bed with Jeon Jungkook. This must be a dream, a really great, really long wet dream. You crumble in his grip, and you lift a shaky hand to run through his thick black strands.

“Why’d you make me wait so long?” you cry, staring right into his glittering eyes, “why couldn’t you come for me after your call last night?”

“Why’d I make you wait?” he grits, crushing the flesh between your hip bones so he can have more leverage to pound into you, “why did you make me wait? Since March, I’ve wanted you. I told you I liked you, told you I fell for you.”

“T-thought it was a joke,” you warble pathetically, breasts bouncing at his relentless rhythm.

“You think th-this is a joke?” for further emphasis, he glides slower, making you feel just how large and thick he is against your folds, “I want you, doll. Y-yeah, fu-fuck. Want to feed you every day, feed you lasagna, feed you with my cum, make you happy.”

“I—I want that too, Kook,” you’re a pile of pink mush, and you feel your eyes prick from the overwhelming emotions that have washed over both of you. “Sh-shit, Kook. I think, I think I’m gon’ cum again.”

“Good, you first,” his hand plays figure 8s with your precious pearl, seeping with arousal and coating his cock in delicious lubrication.

It doesn’t take long for you to cum. You’re holding him as tight as you can, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around his cock. Jungkook cums shortly after, and you keen at the sensitivity when his hot cum coats your walls. “Baby doll,” he exhales, thrusting lazily. The both of you feel your combined arousal drip between the two of you, onto your skin and onto his sheets, “y-you’re amazing.”

His softened cock slips out of you, and his hands immediately reach over to swirl around the heady cream over your engorged pussy. You moan when he brings his fingers to your lips, “Open, doll.”

It tastes salty yet sweet, and you suckle around his finger with a cute little pop. Jungkook grins brightly, feeling like he won the lottery.

“Are my walls that thin?” you pout, pressing closer to him when he pulls the blankets to your chest.

“Very,” Jungkook nods with a chuckle, tucking the two of you in, “now get some rest, doll. You presented a lot of offers to me earlier, and I intend to go through with them.”

You smile into his chest, melty and feeling utterly sated.

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #goldenclosetnet #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook humor #bts fic #jungkook fic

4K notes · View notes

justthehiddleswrites · 4 years ago

Text

Accidently Married | Tom Hiddleston x OFC | Chapter 3 | And Miss Out on Mum Meeting the Girl You Married Without Telling Her? Not a Chance

A/N: Tom makes certain comments about an ex (who is unnamed). It is a fictional girlfriend, take from it what you will. Keep your hate to yourself.

SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Molly Bishop)

Summary: Tom is stuck in a news cycle from hell; Molly is stuck in the dead end job of bartending with a pile of student and credit debt. Tom has an idea to solve all their problems. Get married, get the paparazzi off his back, divorce after a year and Tom pays off Molly’s debts. Tom has everything figured out, that is until he sees Molly as more than a just a friend and so does someone else. In this vying for affections who will win, the handsome Brit or the boy from Boston?

This Chapter: Molly finally gets to meet Luke and they try to convince him that this marriage is not some elaborate plot to manipulate the press. And Tom makes a critical error. We learn more about Molly and her past.

Warnings: fake marriage, smut (vaginal sex), mentions of: child abuse/neglect, foster care, substance abuse, cheating.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED! THANK YOU FOR READING!

–

Tom regretted drinking two cups of espresso the next morning before heading to Luke’s. He definitely regretted not eating anything more than a piece of toast with butter and marmalade. Even after Molly offered to make something for him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you eggs, an omelette? I could probably manage some French toast before we have to leave.” Molly sipped her tea as she ate some oatmeal.

French toast sounded divine at the moment as Tom’s stomach did somersaults. Molly’s knee bounced in the passenger seat on the way to the Prosper office.

“Do you think Luke will yell at me?” Molly asked. “I don’t do well when people yell at me.”

Tom’s head snapped over at her. She sighed.

“Foster parents are not always kind. Bio parents can be worse.” She wrung her hands.

He reached over and squeezed Molly’s knee. “I promise I won’t let him yell at you.”

“Thank you, Tom. Are we telling him the truth?”

“Only if necessary.”

“Then what are we telling him?”

“That I went to Vegas, and I fell madly in love with you and on a whim we got married.”

“A fanciful tale.” Her head dropped to her chest.

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. You sell yourself short. You’re bright, funny, caring and dare I even say easy on the eyes.”

Molly blushed. “Thank you. You are not so bad yourself. Although I seriously question your dietary habits.”

Tom chuckled. “I’ll work on it. And I hope after all of this we will be good friends.”

“Me too.”

“Looks like we are here.” Tom parked the car on the street. He hustled around to open Molly’s door and help her out. “Time to face the firing squad.” Her eyes widened. “Kidding!”

By the time the meeting was done, Molly wished it had been a firing squad.

“Luke, this is Molly Bishop, now Hiddleston.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist. “My wife.”

“My condolences.” Luke shook Molly’s hand.

Molly’s brow furrowed. “I…”

“Of all the stupid shit you have ever fucking done—” Luke started in on Tom.

“Luke, watch your tone.” Tom jabbed a finger in his publicist’s face. “You are not to yell at Molly.” His bright blue eyes flashed and his fists clenched.

Luke took a step back. “Right. Take a seat and let’s see if we can straighten this out.”

They sat next to each other. Molly reached for Tom’s hand and he took it. Luke sat down behind his desk, staring at the two of them. Luke pinched his nose hard and took several deep breaths. Before speaking, he poured a glass of water and dropped two Alka-Seltzer into the water. Molly stared at the whole thing. Tom leaned over.

“For later. Luke says I give him indigestion.” he whispered.

“And headaches.” Luke added.

“I can understand the feeling.” Molly muttered under her breath.

“I beg your pardon!” Tom twisted around to face Molly. “Et tu. Is this about the vegetables?”

“It wouldn’t kill you to eat one every so often. You’re not 21 anymore.”

Tom gritted his teeth. “I said I would work on it. Can we not talk about this right now?”

“You’re the one who brought it up. I was just making a comment.”

Luke’s head bounced back and forth like watching a tennis match, a smirk growing on his face.

“You two are good. Really good. Damn Tom, the lengths you will go to… hiring an actress to pretend to be your wife, that’s—”

“We got married, Luke. In Vegas.” Tom retorted. “Darling, do you have the copy of the license?”

Molly grumbled. “I do, but we are not done with the whole diet thing.” She rummaged through her purse and produced the folded piece of paper. “Show him the photos.” She whispered to Tom as she handed over the license.

“I’m not showing him the photos unless I have to.” Tom hissed.

“Show me the photos, Tom.” Luke beckoned him.

Tom side eyed Molly and handed over the license and his phone. Luke glanced at the license and then scrolled through the photos, eyes growing wider. He zoomed in on one and squinted.

“Is that a spider ring?” he asked.

“His name is Clive.” Tom deadpanned.

Luke cuts his eyes at Tom. “Of course, you named it. You wouldn’t happen to have the ring, would you?” He turned to Molly.

She let loose a breath, exasperated. “Honestly,” she jabbed a finger at Tom and then Luke. “I was not expecting the Spanish Inquisition.” She dug through her purse again. “You are both lucky that I planned ahead.” Molly slammed the two Tiffany boxes on the desk. “There, here is your pound of flesh.”

Luke opened the boxes and found the spider ring and plastic gem ring. His eyes went to their proper rings and then ran his hands through his hair.

“Holy shit, you got married.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I have been saying that for the last 24 hours, mate. Can we move on?”

Molly giggled.

“I… I… apologize. Sorry.” He sputtered, he turned to Molly. “I’m sorry, Molly. You have no idea the things this man has put me through.”

“I can imagine.”

“Hey! I—”

“Not talking to you, Tom.” Luke held up a hand. “I am talking to your bride. Clearly the reasonable one. Although she did marry you, so…”

Tom slumped in the chair. “Two of you. I thought you were on my side.”

Molly reached over and rubbed his arm. “I’m always on your side, honey.”

Tom smiled and leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, darling. Do you believe me now, Luke?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, I do.” He slammed his hand on his desk, rattling his water. “Now let’s talk about these.” He held up several newspapers.

Forty-five minutes later, they finally ended the meeting. Tom was starving. Luke grilled Molly about her background. By the end of everything, Tom now knew that Molly spent the ages of 12-18 in foster care, went to college where she worked two jobs to make ends meet, and has no contact with her younger brother who was adopted. Tom felt a twinge of guilt listening to Molly tell her life story. He never really bothered to ask.

Luke led them to the door but stopped short.

“How did your mom take the news, Tom?” Luke asked. Tom froze and paled. Luke leaned in. “You did tell her?”

Molly glanced between them. “I thought you called her when we got home.”

Tom ran his hands through his hair. Little bits stuck up. His mouth fell open and his eyes widened. “I forgot. I was distracted by someone yelling at me.”

“You haven’t told your mother about us?!” Molly screeched.

Luke chuckled, which soon turned into a full belly laugh. “You are so dead, Tom.” Molly gasped. “You will be fine, Molly, but pray for your husband. There is nothing scarier in this world than Diana Hiddleston mad at her only son.”

Molly gulped. “I will keep that in mind. Now if you excuse us, we have some calls to make.”

Tom nodded, still reeling from the fact he didn’t tell his mum, or his sisters, that he got married. Fake or not. He hoped she hadn’t seen any of the photos yet. But knowing Emma and Sarah, they sent her the links. “Right, calls.”

Molly pushed Tom out of the office and towards the elevator. She waved bye to Luke as the doors closed.

“That went better than expected.” Molly shifted her weight from side to side.

“Yeah, yeah!” Tom blinked and came back to reality. “You were brilliant. What made you think to bring the rings?”

“People have the tendency to believe you when you can present physical evidence. That, coupled with the photos, lends credibility. I mean, who gets married with a plastic spider ring?” She laughed and Tom joined in.

“Genius, really. Luke would have never—” Tom’s stomach rumbled. He blushed. “You were right I should have eaten something.”

Molly stretched to reach his cheek and gave him a quick peck. “You will soon learn I am always right. Let’s find you some food and then you call your mother.”

“Fine.”

They found a place for Tom to grab a sandwich since it was too late for breakfast and not quite time for lunch. Molly stared on as Tom inhaled the sandwich, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of water.

“Did you taste any of that?”

Tom glanced up at her as he poked the last bit of the sandwich into his mouth. “Yes.”

She shoved a napkin towards him. “You have crumbs on your face.”

Tom swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Call your mother.”

Tom slouched. “Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“No.” She stared him down. “If you don’t do it, I will.” Molly lunged for his phone, but Tom was too fast and grabbed it first.

“I’m calling her right now.” He held the phone to his ear, praying it would go to voicemail.

“Tom!” Diana’s warm voice filled his ear. “How are you doing, love?”

“Doing good. A bit of jet lag, I was in Vegas over the weekend.”

Diana hummed. “And how is Luke?”

Tom chuckled. “Angry at me as always.”

“If you would just listen to him…”

“I like her.” Molly popped in.

Tom waved her off.

“I know, Mother. Listen,” He fidgeted with his hair again. Molly realized it was an absolute tell when Tom was nervous. “I was wondering if you might like to grab some lunch this week. We can catch up. So much as happened since I last saw you.”

“I would be delighted, Thomas. Why don’t you come up to the house? Does Wednesday work for you?”

Tom mouthed “Wednesday” to Molly, who shrugged her shoulders.

“Like I’m doing anything? You and Luke are the only people I know here.”

“Right.” He returned to the call. “Wednesday is perfect, mum. Noon?”

“It’s a date. Don’t forget to bring that wife of yours, Thomas. I am quite keen on meeting her.”

All the blood drained from Tom’s face. “I… I… can explain—”

“I’m sure you can. On Wednesday. I have to go, love. It was good to chat.” The line went dead.

Tom stared at the phone. “I’m so dead. She knows about you.”

“Oh, she knows. You are her son. And didn’t you mention having sisters? They totally ratted you out.” Molly smiled at him.

Tom had some appointments on Tuesday which kept his mind occupied from seeing his mother the next day. Molly took some time to figure out how to change her name, get a new passport, and figure out how to maneuver life in a foreign country. Tom took her to get a phone that would work.

“Here you go.”

The first thing she did was snap Tom to add to his contact list. He was laughing in the photo.

“Don’t use that one!” Tom pouted. “Let me pose.”

“But I like this one. It captures your essence.”

But now it is Wednesday morning. Tom woke up early to go for a run. Molly was already up, sipping tea in the living room.

“Can I join you?” she asked upon seeing Tom in workout gear.

“I run about three miles…”

“Sounds perfect. Give me two minutes.” She bounded off the couch towards her bedroom.

Tom fiddled with his headphones until Molly emerged in sneakers and workout leggings. Over the ear headphones around her neck.

“Ready to go.” She tucked her phone into a pocket. “I will just follow you.”

“Let me know if you need to turn around.” Tom winked as they set off.

They returned home about thirty minutes later.

“Sure you don’t want to go another mile?” Molly bounced on her feet.

Tom breathed hard. “Maybe another time. I’m a bit out of shape. You run?”

Molly nodded. “Most days I run. If I get up in time. I miss the gym.”

Tom chuckled. “We need to get you a membership. And I need to ..get into shape myself. Can’t let my wife show me up in paparazzi photos.” he half-joked.

Molly coughed. “They take photos of you running?!”

“Sometimes.” He took a sip of water, his heart rate going back to normal. “Definitely now with you in the picture.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, stepping towards him, grabbing the water bottle from him. “Think they are out there right now?”

Tom glanced around and sure enough, he spied a few cameras with zoom lenses down the street.

“Yup.”

Molly wrapped her arms around his neck. “Maybe we should give them a more scandalous photo.”

Tom leaned down. “What did you have in mind?” he smirked as Molly tugged his head towards her and her lips crashed against his. She sighed and Tom slipped his tongue into her mouth. Molly did the same. As he fisted the back of her shirt, Tom noticed one of Molly’s arms moving.

“AH!!” He screamed as the cold water poured down on his head and Molly jumped back laughing.

“I thought you needed a little cooling off.” she laughed.

Tom lunged for her with a smile on his face, droplets of water falling from his hair.

“You’ll pay for that!” Tom gave chase, while Molly dashed into the house, screaming and laughing.

She made it as far as the living room before Tom’s long legs caught up with her.

“Got you!”

Tom grabbed her by the waist to pull her towards him, but their feet slipped and they ended up on the couch. Tom on top of her. Their eyes locked for a moment before Tom scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll get you all wet.” he commented nervously. “I should…”

“Right.” Molly nodded, sitting up. “I’ll make some breakfast. Eggs and toast. I don’t know what your mother is planning on for lunch.”

“A light breakfast would be best.” Tom shook out his now soaked t-shirt and Molly caught a glimpse of his abs.

“No problem.” She smiled.

They both headed off in different directions. When it was time to leave for Diana’s house, Molly fidgeted with her casual dress and knee-high boots.

“Do I look okay?” she glanced at Tom in jeans and a sweater. “I’m overdressed. Look at you, casually gorgeous. I’m going to change. I have nothing to wear. Nothing to wear…” Molly’s face broke down.

Tom wrapped his arms around her. “What’s going on, darling?” She buried her head in his sweater. “You didn’t freak out like this when we went to go see Luke.”

“That was business. This is your mother. I don’t do well with families, particularly mothers. What if she hates me?”

He kissed the top of her head. “First off, you look beautiful. Second, if my mum hates anyone between the two of us, it will be me. She is going to love you, darling.”

Molly sniffled and dabbed her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Really?”

“I am 100% certain. Now let’s get on the road.”

Molly smiled and nodded. The fear wasn’t gone, but she felt better knowing Tom would be there with her. That fear came rushing back as they stood on the front step of the house of Diana Hiddleston. Tom reached for Molly first.

“I’ve got you, darling.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek right as the door opened.

“Gross, Tom. And at Mum’s house no less.” Emma gagged.

Tom’s cheeks turned a bright pink. “Emma! I didn’t expect you to be here.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “What a surprise.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “And miss out on Mum meeting the girl you married without telling her, not a chance.” Emma turned to Molly. “Emma.”

“Molly B… Hiddleston.” She smiled and extended her hand. Emma shook it with a firm grip.

“The papers didn’t give a name. She seems nice, Tom. Clearly she doesn’t know the real you.”

Tom continued to blush. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Em. Can we come in or are we eating on the front step?”

Emma held the door open wide and stepped aside. They stepped inside. “Mum’s in the kitchen.”

As if on cue, Diana’s voice rang out. “Is that them, Emma?”

“They just got here!” she yelled before turning back to them. “She’s been cooking all day.”

Molly gulped. Tom squeezed her hand. An older woman with grey white shoulder length hair. She came up to Tom's shoulder, if that.

“You were supposed to tell me when they got here.” she scolded Emma.

“I was on my way to tell you.”

“Go take the food out of the oven.”

“But…” Emma protested.

“Go, child. You’ll have the entire meal to listen to me yell. Right now I need a word with your brother.”

Emma pursed her lips as she walked into the kitchen but made a slashing throat gesture, mouthing the words “you’re so dead” at Tom before disappearing.

Diana wiped her hands on her apron. “Now where is my new daughter-in-law?”

Molly raised her hand. “That would be me. Molly, ma’am.”

Diana held open her arms and wrapped them around Molly tight. She realized where Tom got his hugging skills.

“You are just a doll. Is my son treating you well?”

Molly nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So polite and much shorter than the last one. Right at eye height for me.”

“Mother…”

Diana waved Tom off. “And please call me Diana or Mum or Mom. I promise I don’t bite.”

Molly giggled. “Yes, ma.. Diana.”

Diana hugged her again before spinning to face her son.

“Tom.” She crossed her arms.

“Mum.” Tom grew very interested in the rug on the floor.

“Do I get a hug?” Diana smiled.

Tom looked up and grinned. “Always.” The two of them hugged tight, Tom bending at the knees to wrap his arms around her. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” Diana pulled back.

Her hand reached out and smacked Tom right upside the head. Tom cowered, covering his head.

“Mum!” he howled.

“You got married and didn’t tell me!”

“I was getting around to it. Luke distracted me!” Tom explained.

Diana smacked his arm. “Do not blame Luke for this, he is a saint! You were keeping this lovely girl away from me.”

Molly beamed as Diana smacked Tom one more time.

“You think I’m lovely?” she asked.

Diana turned to Molly. “Oh dear. You are perfectly charming. Unlike my wretch of a son.” Another smack to the chest.

“Really, Mum? In front of our guest?” Tom flinched.

“Molly is family.” Diana stopped, took a deep breath, and smiled. “Now with that sorted, let’s go eat.” She spun on her heel and headed back to the kitchen.

Tom hooked his arm with Molly’s. “My mother.”

“I like her.”

Emma and Diane pumped the two of them for every detail about this abbreviated courtship.

“A chapel in Vegas, Tom? Romantic.” Emma sneered.

“I thought so.” Molly added.

“Thank you, darling.” Tom leaned against her.

“Awww.” Emma commented.

Diana stood to clear the dishes as Emma examined Molly’s ring.

“Let me help you.” Tom rose to help, taking the rest of the dishes. Diana grabbed his arm when they reached the sink.

“I really like her, Thomas. You did well.”

“Thank you. She is something.” Tom smiled.

“Much better than the last girl you brought home.”

Tom frowned. “Mum, I…”

Diana held up her hand. “I know. Don’t mention her. But I will say this. There was something about her that didn’t sit right with me.”

“You never said anything to me.”

Diana smiled softly and cupped Tom’s cheek. “You seemed so in love and happy. And all I have ever wanted for all my kids is to be happy.”

“Oh.”

“But none of that matters. You have Molly now and the two of you have years of happiness ahead.”

Tom glanced over to where Emma and Molly hunched over Emma’s phone. Tom’s heart twinged with guilt.

“Right. Of course.” He smiled.

Molly burst out in laughter.

“What is so funny over there?” Tom called out, heading over to the table.

Emma giggled. “Just some old pictures.”

Tom’s face fell. “No, you didn’t…”

Molly giggled. “You were so skinny and that hair!”

The two girls fell into a fit of giggles as Diane placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder.

“Yes, I like her very much.” she whispered. “Why don’t we pull out the old picture albums?”

Tom groaned.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston angst #accidently married

198 notes · View notes

lazarettta · 3 years ago

Text

Misthios V

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (T)

Word Count (1.9k)

Warning (Language)

You spend your morning with Alcina and her daughters while Miranda deals with Karl and Village business.

By the time the sun had begun to peak over the mountains you'd already made yourself at home on one of the balconies of the castle with a woven basket full of croissants and mason jar full of freshly squeezed orange juice. You'd been snooping in the kitchen looking for a snack when you found the partially hidden side door. It was shielded by produce crates and bags of potatoes—you guessed it was an old service door or something, and it was probably what the help around the castle used to sneak around the castle grounds while their Mistress sleeps.

You certainly did. You took a trip to town on a whim and you were bored. You didn't have anything on you in terms of currency but you weren't one to rely on some currency to get you by as there was always a favor or two to be traded. New era, same tricks and it never failed you once. Most of the village was still asleep when you strolled through but the few farmers you saw tending to their stocks gave you less than friendly looks but you didn't take any offense. You were new and places like this didn't take too kindly to a new face, especially a young new face.

Hell, the woman in the bakery shop by the church wasn't very fond of you either until you revealed that you understood every word that she said. She turned into a different person and suddenly you weren't much of a stranger anymore, by her standards anyway.

By the time you found your way back to castle Dimitrescu, you had bruised knuckles, a basket full of goodies you probably shouldn't be eating and a decent knife now warming the holster in your boot. It wasn't tactical or as balanced as you liked but you felt a hell of a lot better with it than you did a few hours ago without it.

You had no idea who's bedroom you'd invaded to get to the balcony though you didn't really care, you saw a plush chair that was only just covered in ice and the cushions were only just a little wet, shockingly.

And that is exactly how Alcina found you, and she wasn't alone. Trailing behind her bundled up even more than you with the hood pulled up over her blonde head was a young woman with eyes that matched Alcina's. Curious that she didn't get her mother's height though—she was probably around your height, give or take.

“You missed breakfast, dear.”

“Didn't think you'd send a hunting party for me,” you smiled but in truth you hadn't realized how much time had passed since you got back to the castle. Between stuffing your face full of bread you hadn't really had in years and well, yeah, you definitely lost track of time. Thankfully there were still a few pastries left in the basket for you to offer to Alcina and who you assumed to be one of her daughters.

The girl's eyes hadn't left you since she first saw you—you knew when you were being studied but for the moment, you were too tired to actually care but not tired enough to drop your guard with these people.

Alcina waved away your offering as she took a seat in the other chair, obviously as unbothered by it's less than ideal conditions as you were but her daughter graciously scooped up a buttered croissant before leaning against the rail, her back to the gorgeous view behind her. She was probably used to seeing it and you certainly weren't a stranger to such joys either but you never really grew bored of them.

“(Y/n), this is Bela, my eldest daughter. Also my successor should anything ever happen to me.”

“Mother, stop it. Nothing will ever happen to you.” You watched as Bela ducked her head, but she wasn't blushing, she turned to you, pushing the hood back from her face slightly but she didn't say anything.

Alcina pulled her cigar holder from somewhere on her dress she was currently wearing, and pointed down at the basket sitting on the small table between you three, “It's not safe to roam around on these roads at night.”

You shrugged, “I can take care of myself, Lady Dimitrescu. A few wolves don't really scare me.”

“There are far worse things out there than death, (Y/n).”

You scoffed, laughing a bit much to the dismay and surprise of the Lady and her daughter, “I've been around long enough to know how true and wise that statement is, but I'm far too old to be scared by it anymore.”

Bela looked at you curiously, “But you don't look a day over thirty, (Y/n).”

You bit back another laugh, picking at the pastry still sitting on the napkin on your thigh. Well. You weren't going to be getting any answers if you didn't give any yourself. “Who do you think Miranda got her skin care treatment from?”

You looked up when the other two balcony occupants were quiet for too long and you realized that they were both staring at you with equally unreadable but different expressions. Though Alcina's hat always made it impossible for you, or anyone else, to gauge her moods and reactions.

“What?”

“You're being serious?” Bela asked, both of her eyebrows disappearing beneath her loose hair.

“Yeah, seriously. I met Miranda back when she was ruling her first kingdom. She thought I was a fucking Viking for the longest time.” Miranda is going to murder you and find a way to make it permanent.

“You're joking. Mother, the mortal is joking...isn't she?”

“Mortal?” you finished your breakfast and wiped away the crumbs, “I haven't been called mortal for a very long time, but now that we've all established that no one on this balcony is of average stock...”

“We can really talk.” Alcina finished as you trailed off, taking a very long and heavy drag while giving you another once over, slower this time as if she was going to find the answers to whatever she was wanting to know. She glanced at her daughter and sighed when she saw her starting to tremble a bit.

“Bela go inside and get your sisters.” Alcina said softly but her tone still held no room for argument and you could tell that Bela wanted to protest against her mothers wishes, “Have tea prepared and brought to the study.”

“For everyone?”

Alcina smiled a bit, “Yes, dear, for everyone.”

When Bela was around the corner and well out of earshot, Alcina brought her attention back to you. And you looked back, waiting for her to ask or say what was on her mind.

“What era?”

“The Peloponnesian war. I'm the last living Spartan on Earth.”

Miranda neatly folded away the paper the moment she heard the ceremony doors opening. Miranda sighed heavily when she heard Karl’s mouth down the corridor—the man's need to chatter (and argue) never ceased and Miranda was positive she would be leaving this meeting with a migraine. She'd rather be doing something more productive with her time…working on her own research, cracking you like an egg or maybe even trying a new recipe for a change.

It wasn't long before Karl burst through the doors, his prized hammer resting on his shoulders and a cigar between his teeth and in his other hand was a satchel that was holding something it wasn't designed to carry. The grin he wore grew when his eyes landed on her and Miranda sighed inaudibly behind her mask.

“Well,” he purred, sitting on the bench he normally claimed and set his hammer down next to it, “If it isn't the woman of the hour! How kind of you to meet with me today.”

Miranda didn't care too much for his charming tone—his charisma was impressive but Miranda had never been a true fan of it, and Alcina outright hated him forcing Miranda to often play the role of a mediator every time there was a faction meeting which almost always ended in chaos and bloodshed. Thankfully it was only once or twice out of the month unless it was an emergency.

“Your message said that you have something of importance to show me, Lord Heisenberg, get on with it.”

“Oh, someone's testy today,” he mumbled under his breath but just loud enough for her to catch his words and Miranda's jaw clenched, “As requested, one head of a troublesome villager only searching for his beloved little girl. Maybe do your job and tell that supersized bitch to keep her brats on a leash next time.”

The satchel landed on the floor at Miranda's feet. Miranda's eyes narrowed in his direction, barely glancing at the satchel that narrowly missed touching her, and Karl felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise alarmingly fast, “Do not forget your place here, Heisenberg.”

Karl snarled but he quickly conceded—he's proved himself to be the biggest Alpha in the region time and time again but he wasn't stupid enough to think that he could challenge Miranda evenly. Miranda relented, accepting his surrender but she didn't buy it, she never did.

“All I'm sayin' is that we don't hunt in the village for this very reason—”

“I understand that, Heisenberg. And it's been taken care of. Lady Dimitrescu will see that it never happens again.”

Karl grumbled but thankfully he didn't push, this time, “There's something else too that I think you should know. There's a stranger in the village, probably owns that cute little camp my lycans tore apart a few miles outside of town.”

That caught Miranda's interest though she did not let it show—it wouldn't do to have a man like Karl have even the slightest bit of leverage over her. He was still too useful for her to kill.

“A stranger?”

“Yeah,” he smirked, relighting his cigar and taking a long pull, “Tall, real tall and quite a looker too...I'm here to officially claim her. If she's as tough as she looks, I'll—”

Miranda's wings fluttered when those words left his hairy lips, he didn't have to go into detail for her to know who he was talking about and Miranda felt the edges of her claws trying to grow beneath the veil of her dark wings.

“No.”

“No!?” he sat up quickly, setting both of his feet down on the ground, “What do you mean no?! Aren't those your laws for fresh meat?!”

“Yes, and that woman is off limits. Defy my word, it will not end well for you. If that is all Lord Heisenberg, I will see you this Friday at the faction meeting.”

“You gave her to that zombie in the castle didn't you!” he called after her when Miranda transformed into a flock of birds and left through the rafters.

Karl pulled his hammer to him as he jumped to his feet and he destroyed the bench he was previously sitting on but Miranda was already gone by the time the splinters where she had once stood, “I never get anything nice around here! Always scraps this and scraps that ever since that bitch took over!” he turned and threw his hammer, nearly slicing a pillar in half and he was half transformed before he caught himself.

Karl dusted himself off with one hand while the other brought another cigar from an inside pocket of his oil stained coat and picked up his hammer on the way out of the ceremony room, his temper simmering down. He took one last look at the damage he caused, and smirked.

“Have fun cleaning this up, mother. ” He didn't care what she said, the woman in the village he saw this morning was his game.

#resident evil 8 #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #assassins creed odyssey #the old guard #resident evil village #lady demitrescu #dimitrescu family #reader is a spartan

134 notes · View notes

monicashipslokius · 3 years ago

Text

Soulmates, Actually Pt 4

(read part 1/part 2/part 3)

A sharp, shrill alarm blares before the sun has even risen, rousing Loki from a perfect slumber. Loki groans their disgust, but it’s muffled in the meat of Mobius’s shoulder.

“Easy, sunshine,” Mobius says, and the infernal man is actually trying to move.

Loki grumbles louder. Mobius, chuckling, eases Loki away from him and onto the pillow instead. It’s not the same - too soft and not nearly warm enough. Loki clings tighter around Mobius’s waist in retaliation.

“We talked about this,” Mobius says. “I have to go back to work today.”

Loki huffs in frustration as they let Mobius remove their hold and lower their arms to the bed. The pillow is a poor replacement.

For a moment, Mobius brushes Loki’s hair back away from their face. His fingers linger, feather-light, at the edge of Loki’s cheekbone. Too soon, the touch is gone.

“I’ll be back at six pm sharp.”

Loki rolls onto Mobius’s side of the bed and falls asleep again.

When they awaken, the sun is bright and the sheets are cool. Loki’s stomach rumbles. They groan as they pull themself out of bed and finally face the day.

The long, lonely day.

A week has passed since Thor’s departure - a week of Loki and Mobius redecorating and cuddling and learning each other.

They bought six plants of varying sizes, new drapes the color of the ocean, and a soft bedspread to match. Mobius fixed up the broken bathroom door, and Loki hung a few new art pieces and string lights.

The La-Z-Boy they arranged in front of a small boxy television set became a fast favorite.

“What did I tell you?” Mobius said the first time Loki relaxed deeply into the recliner. “It’s the perfect throne.”

Mobius may not understand color palettes, but the man knows comfort.

“It will do for now,” Loki told him, not wanting to give too much away.

Mobius’s smile never wavered. “Mmhm.”

Now, Loki drags themself to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Ten minutes later, they are perched on the recliner, plate on their lap, watching soap operas on television.

Claudio is surprised to find that his fiance Regina’s twin sister Georgina has been behind all of his misfortune, but the plot twist has Loki rolling their eyes.

“Amateurs.” Loki bites into an apple slice.

The hours tick by. Loki watches the anchor-shaped clock that hangs in the kitchen - much of their new decor has an ocean theme. But the more Loki watches the clock, the slower time seems to pass.

Time flew by with Mobius here. But without him...

After the soap operas, the courtroom shows begin. And then the news programs. Loki walks laps around the apartment while listening to the weather forecast for the third time - partly cloudy with a 30% chance of rain. The cost of gasoline is skyrocketing. The local high school football team might make county finals, whatever that means.

At quarter to six, Loki thanks the cosmos. Finally. Mobius will be home and put an end to this monotony.

Loki cleans up a bit, dusting some crumbs off the arms of the recliner. They place the plates in the sink.

Then, because they don’t want to appear too eager, they grab a book and stretch out on the bed.

Six o’clock comes and goes. Mobius does not arrive.

By seven, Loki is annoyed.

By eight, they are angry.

By ten, they are concerned.

Dubuque seems relatively safe. And Mobius has lived here alone for a long time before Loki.

But Loki has enemies. Many, many enemies. All of whom would be more than happy to get their hands on their soulmate.

Mobius is probably fine.

But what if he’s not?

At eleven, they are examining the photo of his office building that Mobius keeps on the dresser. Mobius had taken them to see it in the past week, though they hadn’t gone inside. It wasn’t too far a walk, if they recall. Loki is certain that they could find it again, even in darkness.

So they change into a black suit and hurry out the door. The Dubuque city streets are barren this time of night. Loki encounters no one on their trek to the office - until they barge through the front door and are stopped by a security guard.

Loki promised Mobius that they would not hurt anyone, so instead they create a projection of themself to distract the guard while they themself head toward the elevators. Following the signs for the data analytics department, they ride the elevator to the fourth floor.

They step off the elevator into a darkened field of cubicles. Each is the same - small desk, computer, and chair. All are empty. But Loki isn’t alone here. They follow a light through the cubicle maze and come to one that is occupied.

Mobius has a foot-high pile of files on his desk. He’s tapping at his computer keyboard with the index finger of each hand and peering at the small monitor.

“Mobius?”

Mobius jumps, then clutches his chest. He exhales when he sees Loki standing in the opening of his 3ft x 4ft cell. “Give a guy a warning next time.” He smiles. “But it’s good to see you. How’d you get here? Security let you in?”

Loki only frowns at him. “You said you’d be back at six.”

Mobius’s smile loses some of its brightness. “I have to work a little late. Next time we go out, we’ll get you a phone so I can call and let you know -”

“’A little late?’ Mobius, it’s been hours. I thought you were...” They won’t give name to their truest fears. That Mobius had been kidnapped or killed. Or perhaps that he had finally seen the true darkness in Loki and left of his own free will.

Mobius shakes his head. “Come on, Loki. It hasn’t been that long. It’s only...” He glances at his monitor. “Midnight? That can’t be right.”

“I assure you that is accurate.”

Mobius sits back in his squeaking chair, and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry...” He releases a drawn out sigh and his whole body droops. “Boss was cheesed that I bailed on the conference. I have a lot of work to make up.”

The stack of folders towers over Mobius’s slouched shoulders.

“Would it helped if I -”

“You can’t kill him,” Mobius says.

Loki closes their mouth. Tries again. “He needn’t be killed. I could simply... frighten him.”

Mobius shoots Loki a flat look.

“Fine,” Loki says, disappointed. “But what is your intention? To stay here all night?”

Mobius side-eyes the folder mountain. “I’m going to have to.”

“No.”

Mobius sighs. “Loki -”

“This is a place of employment, Mobius, not a living space.”

“It’s my own fault. I should have come back sooner.” He rubs at the corner of one eye. “Maybe I should have stayed at the conference.”

The words stab Loki between the ribs.

“Magicking away was not my best idea,” Mobius says. “I shouldn’t have run from my responsibilities. I’ll never catch up on this work.”

More stabs, a thousand tiny cuts.

“So you regret everything,” Loki says, fighting hard to keep the hurt from their voice. They are disappointed by their own surprise, their own pain. They had thought Mobius was different. They should have known.

Thor was wrong when he said no one could hold Loki’s interest. It was the other way around. Loki protected themself by leaving before the other could get bored. They should have done that here.

But they thought...

Mobius is supposed to be their perfect match.

“No, hey,” Mobius jumps from his chair. That’s all it takes to put him in Loki’s space. Loki takes a step back. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t regret everything, just some things.”

“You regret coming with me when we escaped.”

“N-no,” he says, but not without hesitation.

“You could have stayed. They weren’t chasing you. You could have told them I brainwashed you and gone on with your day.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The bags are heavy under Mobius’s eyes. He’s tired, Loki knows that - but Loki’s tired too. Sitting, waiting, stressing.

The room sparks with tension. Loki’s pain festers under their skin.

And Mobius regrets.

Loki takes a breath, searching for calm. For understanding. For their soulmate. “Come home,” they say, “And we can continue talking in the morning.”

Mobius exhales again, too sharp. He places his hands on his hips and looks at that damned pile of folders again. “I can’t go anywhere.”

“Mobius -”

“This is my life, Loki,” Mobius tells him. “Data analysis is my life. You have to understand that.”

Something dark in Loki’s chest snaps clean in half. “This is your life. This.” They wave a hand around. “This tiny box in a sea of tiny boxes. Where everyone else has left you here in the dark. Where your employer buries you under papers so deep that you cannot find your way out of them. Is all this extra work truly because you left the conference? How often would you work late before I arrived?”

Mobius looks away, and Loki knows they’re right. The answer, too often.

“Are you at least receiving additional benefits for all this extra time spent here?”

Mobius still won’t look at them.

“They are taking advantage of you, of your loyalty, and you are letting them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mobius snaps, the sharpest he’s ever spoken to Loki.

Loki stands taller. They’re used to anger, to cutting words, to pain - more than they were ever used to kindness.

“I am trying to protect you,” Loki says.

“I don’t need protection from my job.”

For one wild moment, Loki thinks of grabbing those folders and tossing them across the room. They dream of throwing Mobius over their shoulder and saving them from this drab place and its tan carpet and eggshell walls.

Instead, they insist, “No, you do. You owned three photos when I first met you: one of your parents, one of a jetski, and one of this office. Can you not see how depressing that is?”

Mobius face hardens.

“You are meant for better things than this. When was the last time you even rode a jetski? Or had fun of any kind?”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need fun.”

“That is absurd.”

Mobius’s brows draw together. “Listen, not all of us could be born into royalty, and just go around doing whatever we want all the time.”

Born into royalty. A fresh sting, not one Mobius could know would hit so hard. But it does all the same. Loki steps backward from the force of it.

Mobius unhooks his arms. “Loki -”

Loki shakes their head. Mobius watches them, confusion replacing frustration, followed quickly by concern. He lifts his hand, but Loki steps back again, further out of reach.

“It’s fine,” Loki says, lying. “Stay as long as you like.” They bury the pain down deep. It’s familiar, an old, hated friend. “I wouldn’t dare dream of treading on your unhappiness.”

Mobius drops his hand. “I am happy. I am perfectly happy.”

“Good,” Loki says.

“Great,” Mobius says.

“Wonderful.”

“Fantastic.”

They stare hard at each other. Loki refuses to look away first.

When Mobius finally does, turning back to his cubicle and his chair and the stack of folders, disappointment floods through Loki.

They don’t wait to be dismissed, they turn and leave on their own.

Loki does not return to the apartment. Instead, they walk and they walk and they walk. They almost hope to be accosted by vagrants, so as to release some restless energy in a fight, but they see no one. They reach a river and follow it into a forest.

They sit along the riverbank and watch the sunlight crest over the trees.

Maybe they shouldn’t have surrendered the scepter. With the tesseract, they could have traveled anywhere. Now they are limited to the distance of their own two legs. Not that they would know where to go anyway.

The only place they want to be is back at the apartment with Mobius.

It’s evening when they eventually make their way back there. Their stomach growls, and they’re thirsty and tired. With some food and a good night’s rest, perhaps they could leave again with a plan this time. Hire a taxi to an airport and take a plane. Find a city of decadence and lose themself for a few decades.

They don’t expect Mobius to be home. It’s only shortly after seven, far too early for his beloved late nights. Yet as they place the key into the lock and start to turn, they barely have time to remove it before being yanked forward into the apartment and into a crushing embrace.

“Don’t leave me,” Mobius says. His arms are sure around Loki’s waist. His nose is buried in the crook of Loki’s neck and shoulder. His words are muffled by Loki’s forest-dirty suit coat. “I’m not happy. I haven’t been in a long time. Not until you. And not without you.”

Loki sags into his arms, and he holds tighter, keeping Loki upright. Keeping them safe. They close their eyes and let the warmth of Mobius’s body chase away the chill of the Iowa evening air.

“You scared the hell outta me,” Mobius says, voice shaky. “I looked for you everywhere, but I kept checking here. I kept hoping you’d come back. I’m so sorry.” Mobius leans back. He reaches up and cups Loki’s face between his palms. Gently, he rubs his thumbs over Loki’s cheekbones. “I want to be good for you.”

“How could you think you’re not?”

Regret shines in Mobius’s eyes now, more than it ever did during their argument. “I hurt you. I don’t want to ever do that again.”

Loki places their hand over one of Mobius’s on their face. “I hurt you, too, I suspect.”

“No, everything you said was right.” He swallows. “Work’s all I had for so long, and when I was back there, and they started piling it on... Everyone else in that office has always had someone, so before I would take on the extra work myself. It was better than coming home alone. It’s a hard habit to break. Loki, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do this.” But Loki still wants to hear it. Each of Mobius’s words are a balm over their pain. Mobius keeps going. He doesn’t even stop for breath.

“I lashed out at you, and I only did that because you were right. And I didn’t want to hear it. But then you were gone.”

“I’m here,” Loki says. “I’m here now.”

“I am a lousy soulmate.” Mobius smiles, but it’s too soft, too sad. “After so long alone, I don’t think that I know how to be with somebody. But I want to learn. I want to deserve this, with you.”

“Mobius,” Loki says, and their mending heart threatens to break again. “I am no great prize.”

Mobius starts to laugh. “I’m trying to be serious, Loki.”

“I am too,” Loki says, and whatever Mobius sees on their face stops the laughter. Loki studies the softness in Mobius’s gaze, the adoration, the great care, memorizing as much as they can, in case this is the last time they see it. “I’m a monster.”

Mobius, voice flat and unamused, says, “Be serious.”

“I was not born to royalty. Not like you think,” Loki says and waits. Dread rolls over them in waves, but Mobius does not react more than a slight cant of his head. “I’m not...” It would be easier to show him, but Loki can’t. If they do, Mobius will change all of his sweet words. He won’t stand to share this small apartment with them any longer, and Loki will be back on that riverside. “How you see me is not... how I am.”

Mobius is patient. Mobius waits. Maybe Loki wasn’t wrong about Mobius after all. Maybe Mobius, like them, is imperfect and a little afraid but trying.

Slowly, Loki pulls Mobius’s hands from their face so as not to burn him with the cold of their skin as they lift the glamour that hides their Jotunn form.

They want to look away, to hide from the horror they are sure to see on Mobius’s face, but simultaneously are too desperate to see any and every reaction.

Mobius’s eyes grow wide. His lips part. He blinks a few times.

“Loki,” Mobius says, and Loki braces for fresh heartache. But then he smiles, real and true and bright, a lighthouse in a lifetime of hurt. “Blue like the ocean.” The adoration never dims from his eyes. “You are beautiful.”

Mobius insists he doesn’t care, but Loki only feels comfortable again with their glamour restored.

“Either way,” Mobius says, and sends Loki off to the bathroom to shower and change. “I’ll have dinner ready by the time you’re done.”

When Loki leaves the tiny bathroom in their silk pajamas, they find the small two-person table lit by candlelight. Mobius stands beside it, wearing one of the dark suits Loki picked out for him at the store, with a deep green tie that’s slightly askew.

“What’s all this?” Loki asks.

“I know we’re soulmates, and our fates are destined and everything,” Mobius says, tugging at his collar. A bit of pink dusts his cheeks. “But some things should be done the old fashioned way. I want to win your heart, so I thought...” He clears his throat. “I want to wine and dine you. Properly.”

“Ah.” Loki slides further into the room, heart lighter than it’s been in the past forty-eight hours. All the lingering hurts are mended. And Mobius looks delectable in that suit, just as Loki thought he would. Loki strides right up to him, reaches out, and adjusts his tie. “You are attempting to seduce me.”

Mobius’s cheeks redden. He glances away for the briefest of moments before his eyes return to Loki’s face.

“You are everything a guy could want,” Mobius says. “More than I ever dreamed.”

Loki finishes fixing Mobius’s tie, but leaves their hands flat on Mobius’s chest. Mobius takes one and brings it to his mouth. He places a kiss to Loki’s palm.

Loki shivers, but not from any cold.

“Loki,” Mobius says, giving so much weight to the name - things unspoken, maybe not ready to be said, but are known - so known, and ready to be shown.

Mobius leans, and Loki stays very still, waiting, wanting but so, so afraid.

Mobius stops just out of reach. His breath hot on Loki’s lips, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallows all their fear and whispers, “Please.”

Mobius closes the distance and presses their lips together.

Fireworks ignite in Loki’s chest. Their heart thunders. Their hands itch for more, so they grab Mobius by the shoulders and hold, clinging, ruining the new suit and not caring at all.

Mobius cups Loki’s jawline, guiding them closer, tilting gently, positioning Loki just as he wants them. Loki goes willingly, opening their mouth as Mobius licks his way inside.

They should have done this long ago. They should do this all the time. This should never, ever stop.

Loki moans as Mobius’s fingers comb into their hair. Mobius breaks for air, tilts his head, and comes back for more. Loki holds Mobius so close, they are certain their heart beats straight into Mobius’s chest.

It’s perfect, passion incarnate, and Loki wants so much that they -

Loki’s stomach growls. Loudly.

Mobius smiles against Loki’s lips.

Loki groans as Mobius plants one more soft kiss and pulls away.

“Wining and dining time,” he says with a wink.

Loki is both endeared and annoyed. “I will have more of this.” His stomach grumbles again. “After dinner.”

Loki doesn’t miss the flush of Mobius’s cheeks, even as his easy smile returns. “It would be my absolute pleasure, and I mean that.”

#i wrote this #lokius #wowki #loki x mobius #soulmate au #part 4 of 5 theoretically though the list of scenes i want gets longer every chapter oops #might be 4 of 6 #anyway #fighting cw #making up #that jotunn scene that must be in every long fic #first kiss #i fit a lot in here haha #OH! also #long fic #be warned if you click the read more #ao3 link tomorrow prolly #this one hits a little different than the rest #i really wanted to deal with mobius's workaholism

51 notes · View notes

shackermanwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Lifetime

Summary: When everything's falling apart in your life, and you don't know what to do anymore, maybe asking the universe for something isn't a bad idea after all. In which Sol Reader finds herself in another reality after begging the universe for something. Everything is going well not until she was put into Levi's squad.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Warnings & Content: Angst, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe, War, Politics, Sad, Fluff and Smut, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Reality Shifting.

A/N: This is a y/n story, but I will still put a name since I am more comfortable with that. Also, for those who don't know what reality shifting is, it is basically moving your subconscious to another reality, and that's where I got the inspiration to write this. There are also no titans in the story except for the 9 titan shifters. The story will revolve around the war between Paradis and Marley.

Lifetime Masterlist

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

The sound of chirping birds and a peal of faint laughter from the other room are the first thing you had noticed as soon as you woke up from sleeping. You can’t recognize whether it's already morning or noon because of the sunlight beaming through the grass yet being danced by the wind.

You were taken aback by the beautiful scenery in front of you as you sat on the bed and stared at the large window beside your bed, yet soon realized that you don’t know where you are.

You started to look around to observe your surroundings; there are two teacups and a small saucer that contains crumbs of bread sitting on top of the bed stand beside your bed, which explains the faint smell of tea and woods that smells refreshing to your nose.

The room is quite spacious and clean considering seeing a bunch of toys scattered on the floor; who lives here, you thought to yourself. You slowly got up from the bed despite feeling nervous, you can’t recall this room, but you feel like this is not the first time that you have seen this room, let alone the feeling of being inside that house is somewhat familiar to you.

You carefully tiptoed as you went out; you don’t know what is happening, nor where you are right now, yet you did not find yourself panicking.

“Careful with that and don’t make a mess, okay?”

You followed the voice that seems to be coming from the kitchen, the voice was followed by a giggle that appears to be from a child. As soon as you reached the end of the hall, you slowly peek to see that your guts were right, the voices you heard were from the kitchen.

A table with four chairs and a child sitting on one of it back facing you is the only thing you manage to see so you decided to peek even more and there your eye saw a black-haired man that seems to be cooking as he slowly stirs the pot in front of him, you assume that he did not notice your presence.

Yet the child did; the moment you turn your gaze back to the child’s back, she was already looking at you with a slight smile painted on her face and a lovingly look that she had given you.

“How was your nap? You fell asleep while reading earlier in the living room, you must have liked the tea I made earlier” You looked at the man that has stopped chopping potatoes to look at you.

You locked eyes with him and you noticed the similar eye color of the child, you suddenly felt the urge to run into his arms and cry. You wanted to feel his embrace. You felt home as soon as you saw him, almost like you completely forgotten that you don’t know where you are, but somehow you felt safe, especially around him.

“yeah, my sleep was okay” you gave him a soft smile to lighten up the mood

As you were about to walk over to him, your vision is suddenly getting blurry, and everything was spinning, and your vision goes black.

“Hey, wake up, Sol” you felt a hand on your shoulder trying to shake you from your deep slumber.

You slowly open your eyes and crap was the only word you could think of when you realized that you fell asleep in class, not just any class but one of your major subjects this semester.

You look around and see your professor shuffling a bunch of cards that have your class names on it, ah random recitation again if your hunch is correct which made you groan in annoyance.

You aren’t the type of student to burn yourself out just to ace your subjects, but you are managing to pass them, and luckily for you, your grades are much higher than what you are expecting, although you are still not sure if it just because you’re still in your second year in college.

Initially, you were supposed to take up a course related to arts because ever since you find art, specifically drawing and painting, it is your safe place. You love to draw and paint ever since you were a child. Still, you had to bury those and convince yourself that doing all of that was just a hobby, so instead, you took a course related to medicine.

Going back to your senses, you immediately smiled at your friend beside you, that’s now scanning through her notes. You’ve been friends with Petra since the first day of freshman year since the two of you met in an embarrassing way. Both of you were wearing the same necklace that day, so people assumed that the two of you were dating. After that incident, she always sat next to you in class and eventually became friends with her up until now.

“so, since none of you failed the exams, the project that is due after Christmas break will be moved at the end of the semester” the room was quickly filled with cheers and chatters after hearing the announcement of your professor.

“so? You have plans this Christmas break?” you looked at Petra while she stuffs her notebooks inside her bag with a smile on her face, you can’t deny the fact that she is indeed beautiful.

“Yeah, I might go back to Germany tomorrow morning since Christmas is in five days, so” you scratch the project on your to-do list in front of your bag before putting it inside your bag.

Petra gave you a brief look before smiling at you for a second “yeah, I think you should, it’s been two years since you were home, right? Hey besides, I’m right around the corner here, so if you decided to come back early, let me know.”

“Yeah, I will, anyway. Aren’t you late for your job?”

“oh, dang it, I am, I got to go first, sol. My manager will kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle at her reaction when she realized that she’s late. “sure, take care and call me tomorrow.”

You could only watch as she leaves the room in a rush. You let out a sigh and grab your bag to leave the room. Your parents are the reason why you choose to pursue medicine instead of arts, the moment they knew what you want to do for the rest of your life. You immediately saw how disappointed they are, so instead, you took a course you think they can be proud of.

Medicine isn’t that bad, especially being trained and learning how to be a medical technologist, It's fun to learn, and you are adapting and finding yourself enjoying as you engage more and more. Yet, deep inside of you knows that you’re just pushing your doubts and negative thoughts aside, and that includes your passion.

The dorm isn’t that far from your university; it will only take a maximum of 4 minutes when walking. You removed your coat and shoes and decided to slump down on your bed. You don’t have the energy to take a shower considering that you just did two hours ago; you’re still okay, you thought.

You honestly can’t stop thinking about what Petra said earlier, home. It must be nice to feel that you're home.

Your parents are acceptable it is just that they don’t care about what you feel and think, maybe its because you’re their first child and they are still learning when they had you, but the way they treat your little sister says otherwise. Although, you love your sister you can’t deny the fact that you sometimes feel jealous, you just want to be a daughter and a person to your parents, you mentally slap yourself.

It would be best if you weren’t thinking like that.

You let out a loud groan while staring at the ceiling.

“I should probably pack my bag now if I’m leaving early,” you mumbled to yourself.

You quickly got up from the bed and grabbed your suitcase under your bed, and you don’t know how long you will stay but just in case.

You filled it up with your clothes and toiletries neatly. You can be organized if you’re in the mood, and that is something Petra can’t do; the girl is just messy and unorganized, which is why you’re glad that you’re there for her.

“that should do it, I did a great job.”

Once again, you slump down on the bed, face buried on the pillow, you’re tired physically and mentally drained, once again you thought about home, this is why you don’t like it when you’re doing nothing, it leads you to overthink.

You closed your eyes and thought about the things you want in life, which slowly leads to imagining them and making up scenarios as if that is already happening. “I just want to go home, home is where I want, this is bullshit but universe please I just want to be home, no matter what the cost is, no matter what the cost” you beg in your head, you grew up not being heard but deep inside of you clings on a hope that the universe might listen to you.

You stayed like this for almost half an hour; even though you are flinching, you didn’t move an inch. You had to convince yourself that you're probably just tired. Your eyes are getting heavier every minute, and you were about to fall asleep when you noticed that something’s not right, you felt dizzy and cold, yet you decided to push those thoughts and drifted to sleep.

Little did you know, the universe is always listening.

#levi fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi #levi fic #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi aot #levi au #levi attack on titan #aot fanfiction #attack on titan #aot x y/n #aot x reader #captain levi #hurt comfort #levi angst #levi slow burn #levi fanfic slow burn

59 notes · View notes

imaeraser · 3 years ago

Text

Playing With Foxfire Kin’emon x Reader (Modern AU) Ch 1

TW: power imbalance, cheating, and age gap

(2.1k words)

Kin’emon x reader x slight Sanji

Summary: You have a summer internship at the Kozuki company, and have to stay at Kin’emon’s home. You try to limit your attraction to the married man, but the flame of passion burns bright. And playing with fire can only lead to one thing— getting burnt.

AN: I originally did this for myself and my sister as a joke— since there is little to no fan fiction for Kin’emon— but decided to post it. Hopefully you enjoy and cringe at some parts.

I fumbled my way through the airport. The musk of others smudged onto my shoulders while I bumped down the path as if I were in a pinball machine. The sound of the wheels of my suitcase grounding me on Earth before all of my thoughts flew away.

I raised my hand to shade my eyes as I stepped out into the open, while my foot jutted back from the force of the wind. I squinted down the road, but there was not an awaiting person in sight.

I sighed, and sat down on a sun-warmed bench near a smoking man. As I grabbed the side rest, the tacky feeling of day-old gum made my arm jump in revulsion.

“Ew, that’s so nasty,” I shook my arm as if the action would make the gum magically disappear, and then reluctantly started to pull it off with two fingers.

“Here let me help you,” another set of arms entered my vision. The stranger pulled out a handkerchief and scraped any residue off of my arm jacket.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver,” I turned to him, and stopped mid-thought.

His eye was staring at me intently, but I could only appear to focus on his swirly eyebrow— his singular swirly eyebrow.

“I think being a life saver is a bit of an over-statement, but I’ll take it.” He paused and tilted his head, yet the hair that covered one of his eyes did not budge. “Is there something wrong?”

I paused, “No, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit air-headed sometimes.” I flushed as I rubbed the back on my neck.

“Well, I think air-heads are cute,” he held out his hand, “Sanji.”

“Y/N,” I said as I replied with a handshake.

Once we retracted our arms he leaned over to his side, and proceeded to fill the atmosphere with the rottenly-sweet scent of tobacco. After a large puff, he released a light cloud into the air. The smoke got thinner and lighter as it floated up and died in the sky.

“What brings you here Y/N?” Sanji held out an unused cigarette and raised an eyebrow.

“I have an internship this summer,” I said as I shook my head and pushed the offering away.

“Let me guess...” he paused, “ Kozuki?”

“Yep,” I nodded. I threw another glance at the street, and the emptiness made my foot begin to tap the floor. “I think there was a guy that was supposed to pick me up.” I looked down at my phone- 4:57- a few more hours and I would no longer feel safe walking the streets alone.

“If you want, I can drive you. Just give me the address and we’ll be on our way,” Sanji offered a handsome smile.

My eyes quickly darted to his figure. He was tall and slender, but most of his form was hidden under a finely made suit. He shifted in his seat awaiting my answer, and the movement drew my attention to his abnormally built leg muscles. His demeanor was goofy, but I had only known him for a span of a few minutes.

As much as I wanted to say yes, there were far too many episodes of true-crime documentaries watched for me to allow this stranger to drive me home.

“No, I should be okay. I think I’ll wait a bit longer, and if he doesn’t show up I’ll call an Uber or something,” I said as I watched him lean back onto his seat.

“Well, I’ll wait until you’re out of here safely. I can’t leave a lovely lady like yourself all alone,” Sanji smirked as he crossed his ankles.

“Are you implying that I am incapable of handling myself?” I raised an eyebrow in playful contention. He raised his hands as if to calm my rage.

“Of course not, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” he said, as I leaned back into the bench.

Time quickly passed, and before either of us knew it we were watching the sky’s rolling clouds pull back and reveal an assortment of summer-time colors. The falling sun lit up Sanji’s flaxseed hair—spinning each strand into a gold thread. Perhaps it was a mistake to decline his proposal.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I said, glancing back at my phone.

“I’m meant to be wherever you are, mademoiselle,” he placed a hand on his chest.

I picked at my nails, and rolled a strand of my hair between my fingers, “Stop joking, you could do way better than me.” He gently clasped my hands.

“You’re selling yourself short. From the time I have spent with you I can tell that you really are gorgeous,” he looked me dead in the eye. The intensity and suddenness of his icy-blue gaze made me look away.

“I’ll take the compliment,” I said, before turning my eyes to the side. To my surprise I saw a man holding a sign with my name on it. “It’s about time,” I shook my head as I looked back over to Sanji. “Thanks for keeping me company, but the dude finally showed up. I have to get going.” I stood up, my knees clicking from being immobile for too long.

After waving goodbye, I dragged my suitcase across the concrete to greet the man. The closer I walked to him, the taller his looming figure became. As we both stopped our pace, my eyes widened in distaste as I looked at him.

His top-knot bobbed as he tilted his head, which provided a stark contrast to his worn out graphic tee that was half-way tucked into a pair of cargo shorts. He took a step towards me as he outstretched his hand, and I heard a resounding wooden thunk. My eyes trailed down to reveal a set of wooden clogs and knee-high socks.

“I am deeply sorry for being late, I was just a bit busy.” He rubbed his neck with his other hand, which revealed a raspberry colored hickey. I bit the inside of my cheek, as I looked to the side in disbelief— trying not to stare at anything in particular. “Oh, you must be looking at my car. It is an antique—”

“Y/N,” I hurriedly shook his hand. “I believe I am to stay at your house during the entirety of my internship at Kozuki?”

His heavily lined eyes blinked a few times before he opened his mouth, “You are correct. I am Kin’emon. My wife and I will be hosting you for the few months you are to be staying.” There was a glint of light that flashed as he moved his hand—which was seen with a golden band around his ring finger.

“Thank you very much for generously allowing me to stay in your home,” we began to walk to his car. “Oh I forgot, the email asked the interns to check the id of the person who is picking us up.” I paused before placing my hand on the sleek metal of the door handle.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” he slipped his black leather wallet out of his pocket and fished for his id. Once he retrieved the card, he placed his driver’s license into my hand.

I pulled out my phone, to look at the email telling us about our host. After comparing the information, I handed Kin’emon his drivers license back. “Okay, let’s go.” I said as I slid onto the creme colored leather of the backseat.

My fist supported my head as I watched the scenery meld together through the window. The sky quickly turned darker. My breath formed a little patch of condensation— due to the late hour and dropping temperatures.

The car ride was quiet, with the exception of some traditional Japanese instrumentals. But before either of us would try and fill the silence with awkward questioning, we arrived at his house.

I stepped out of the car, and heard the sound of the trunk opening as well as plastic wheels hitting the ground. While handing me my suitcase handle, his calloused hands brushed against mine. I whispered a quiet, thank you, before following him up to his home.

He opened the frosted glass door, which revealed a quaint home who’s floor was covered in what I perceived as bamboo mats. We both entered the house, and the scent of fried bread crumbs as well as curry swirled around us. I caught myself nearly drooling down my chin.

The sound of pots, pans, and utensils cluttering stopped as a woman in an apron stepped out of the kitchen. “Welcome home dear,” she said before turning to me. “You must be the intern. My name is O-tsuru, it is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” She dusted her flour covered hands on her jeans before offering me a handshake.

I gave a soft smile as I shook her hand, “I’m Y/N, it’s lovely to meet you as well.” O-tsuru gently grabbed Kin’emon’s hand and led him to the kitchen.

“Food is almost finished, we would be delighted if you decided to eat with us,” her voice echoed from the kitchen.

I looked down at my half eaten sandwich from the airport Subway. The bread was chewy like a warm kneaded eraser, and the vegetables had an almost plastic sheen to them. “I would love to eat whatever smells that delicious,” I peeled off my shoes and set them near the door.

O-tsuru’s head popped out from the kitchen, “Just sit for a bit, and we’ll be out with food in a second.” Following her instructions, I pushed the floor sitting chair out so I could sit on my knees.

There were no legs to the chair, but seeing as the table was so close to the ground it did not present a problem. My eyes scanned the area of the house that was visible. There were sliding doors and paintings with Japanese characters drawn in sumi ink. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see something reflect the light of the overhead fan.

I turned to my side and saw two katana’s on display, both identical in looks. Black lacquered wood, with the image of fire painted down the middle. It looked too gaudy for it to be used as a weapon. As I glanced over the other decorations in the house, I decided to place the swords in the same category.

“Today we are going to be eating Tonkatsu Curry,” O-tusru said, as she clattered plates about to organize the table. I reached out to help her, but she swatted my hands away playfully. “You’re our guest, I can’t put you to work so soon,” she chuckled. I placed my hands back onto my lap, and waited.

Soon enough Kin’emon brought out the food, and the scent of curry wafted over from the pot. There was a plate set down that was full of pork chops covered in fried bread crumbs. O-tsuru set down a glass bowl full of lettuce— you could see droplets of water on the leaves.

“So we have some Tonkatsu here, but if you can’t eat that we also have nato,” O-tsuru sat across from me.

“What’s nato?” I looked at my bowl of rice, and sniffed it.

“It’s fermented beans,” Kin’emon took his seat next to his wife. “And if you’re allergic to anything here just let us know, I’m sure we can find something in the kitchen that suits your needs.”

As we dug in, the flavors exploded in my mouth creating a lovely blend. The dinner was mostly quiet, with the exception of some basic questions to fill up the time.

“I’ll let Kin’emon show you to your room. I have to wash some dishes,” O-tsuru grabbed a few plates as she stood up.

While the sound of water and the clanging of dishes ensued, Kin’emon stood up, and walked over to my luggage. The slight crispy nosies of the mats under my feet amused me.

“So...are the floor mats made out of bamboo?” I said.

“They are made out of rice straw, they’re called Tatami mats,” he walked down the hallway, and placed his hand on the door, and cracked it open slightly. “This is where your room is, you can call either of us if you need anything.”

I watched his silhouette as he turned around to meet back with his wife. Although he dressed like a patchwork dad and samurai, it looked as if he could still be a model for Calvin Klein. As he walked away, his muscles rippled under his skin. His arms were also well defined, but as my eye caught his ring I stopped

#one piece #one piece wano #one piece imagine #sanji x reader #kin’emon #kin’emon x reader #one piece self insert #one piece senario #sanji #sanji one piece #vismoke sanji #foxfire #foxfire kin’emon #one piece x reader #one piece x Y/N

27 notes · View notes

percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-36)

Word count: 5.6K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Feels, PTSD, fluff

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23. Love you babe <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m going home.”

“Jack!” You grabbed him by his elbow just as he turned. “You can’t abandon me!”

He looked a bit terrified. “I can’t do this, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you can. Jody is awesome and you’re so cute. I know she will like you.”

Jack did not look convinced. A tiny part of you was nervous with him. He was about to meet his girlfriend's mom for the first time. After calling Sam to tell him that you were up for the picnic, the wild optimism in his voice had you wearing out the carpet of your living room, freaking out about messing it up- for Sam and for Max. As a last resort, you had knocked on your neighbour’s door and convinced Jack to accompany you. As it turned out, Claire had been after him for a while to meet her family, and Jack being Jack was worrying the hell out of it.

Now, you stood in front of the gate of your building, waiting for Sam to come pick you up, and not letting each other chicken out of this situation. That’s what friends did.

“It’s not just Jody,” Jack admitted. “It’s also your husband.”

Your heart still lurched at the word. “Sam? What about him?”

Jack groaned, rolling his head. “I don’t know. You’re our Y/N… and then suddenly we find out you’re married. I really want to like him, but he’ll take you away from us.”

You were touched by his words, and the innocence in them. “No one can take me away. In fact, this is just my grand scheme to make sure that you’re stuck with me for life now. I’ve been slowly getting you hooked to the cookies. Soon there will come a day when you’ll realise you can't live without them. And then you just can’t get rid of me. It’ll be too late.”

Jack smiled at you and slung his arm around your soldier. “It’s not the cookies we’re getting addicted to, it’s you.”

A car made the swift turn and came to a stop next to the gate, right in front of you- Sam’s sleek, black Mercedes.

Jack let out a low whistle. “I take it all back. You get back together with this guy and adopt me. Max is so much nicer than Kevin anyway. I'll share a room with him. I’ll do the dishes everyday.”

You were crying because of laughter by the time Sam opened his door and stepped out.

“You alright?” He asked, face startled but amused.

Nodding and gasping for breath, you made the hasty introductions. Jack gave his patented customary hand raise of a greeting with palm facing forward. Sam was going for a handshake but seeing Jack’s wave, he did the same with a smile.

From the backseat, Max called out your name. Without caring about the rest, you opened the door and got in besides him, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, Y/N, aren’t you riding shotgun?” Jack asked, voice restrained to appear casual.

“Nah, you got it. I’m going to hangout in the back with Max.”

Jack might be looking daggers at you for throwing him under the bus, but you knew he’d live. Sam was excellent company. In the next fifteen minutes of the ride, you were proven right, because Jack was busy discussing the mysterious circumstances under which Edgar Allan Poe died, and how The murders in Rue Morgue was actually his best work. Sam was exceptionally well read and Jack was in his element with literature discussions.

You turned to Max, showing him your basket. “Look, what I got for you- your favourite cookies and a pie!”

He let out a squeal of delight and you snuck a cookie out for him.

The car was spotless, rich upholstery gleaming, but you knew Sam couldn’t care less if Max got crumbs on the seats. Right on track, Max dug into the cookie, not bothering about the mess. Secretly, it pleased you that you were beginning to decode their relationship.

“I didn’t know what the others would like, so I baked muffins and some savoury croissants. You think that’s okay?”

“Stop gnawing over it, Y/N,” Sam said. “Everyone’s gonna love it.”

You didn’t think he was even paying any attention to you. Course you were wrong. His eyes were melting in the rearview mirror as he smiled at you.

“Y/N woke up at 4:30 in the morning to get everything set,” Jack added.

You bent forward to look at him. “How do you know that?”

“I could hear your beater whirring. Thin walls.”

“That woke you up? I’m so sorry, Jack!”

Jack snorted. “Was she always like this?”

“Always,” said Sam, with all the warmth. You could feel the heat in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you happily listened to Max chatter about the badminton racquet in the trunk and Claire’s home bowling set. He was such a joy to listen to when he was just being a kid and not careful. You listened very attentively, picking out the things that were only in the subtext of his words. Max loved these people- Jody, her girls and even Chase. He knew their habits and their natures like a family. Sam must have relied on them a lot and often.

You were so lost in Max’s words, that the car was already silently cruising along the San Francisco bay. The water stretched by one side of the road. Instinctively, you tightened the grip on Max’s hand.

Why hadn’t you thought to ask where the picnic was!

As it turned out, the place they had chosen was very serene… The little landscape was a small distance walk from the highway, secluded enough that it wasn’t frequented, but beautiful nonetheless. Tall, full trees dominated the landscape. The rich fall colours, oddly made the shade underneath brighter somehow, inviting. The shadows of the trees bleeded into an open, grassy area and ultimately into the sandy, pebbly waterline of the bay.

You wrinkled your nose at the sight of nestled ducks. Sam smirked at you. Was he remembering the same afternoon? When you had tried to feed the ducks Sam and Dean’s epic failure of muffins?

Two girls were already laying out an assortment of food on the blanket. The blonde turned at the sound of Max’s hoots and her face brightened at the site of Jack. It was adorable. Alex still had her hand in a cast and Jody was hauling a cane chair from behind. All of them looked in a jovial mood. Maybe the whole sneaking out at night debacle was behind them.

Alex greeted you first when you reached them. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Winchester.”

You felt rather than saw Sam’s eyes flash towards you. Smiling, you sat down next to her. “Y/N is just fine, Alex. You don’t have to change names all of a sudden.”

Both she and Claire were a little wide eyed. Your situation had clearly been a topic of discussion with them. This girl they randomly knew as Max’s friend or Jack’s neighbor was now suddenly Sam’s wife. It must’ve been bizarre. After sharing a few pleasantries with Jody, you pulled out your own basket.

You had to admit, the reactions were very mollifying as they dug into the muffins, pies and croissants, moaning with closed eyes. Sam gave you a sideways smirk at their reaction.

“That’s it,” Jody declared. “You’re passing the rest of the semester for legal writing without handing in a single assignment. The muffins alone… mmm.”

“Save me some,” Sam complained. It was mostly aimed at Jody.

She scowled at him. “You stop making those eyes at me, Winchester. I’m not giving up my share.” When you giggled she turned towards you. “Did he always do that?”

“Puppy dog eyes of doom? Yeah… always.”

“You make that shit work for you in the court, don’t you? That’s how you win all of them cases,” she grumbled.

“How rude!”

You turned at the offended sound. Chase stood behind you with arms crossed over his chest.

“You guys started eating without me?” He huffed, sitting down on your other side and turned to Max. “Your dad, I can expect that from. Since when did you turn into such an Iago?”

“I saved you the cookies,” Max said promptly, pulling the bag from behind him. There was a small furor which was mostly the girls complaining about how they didn’t know there were cookies. It ended with Chase clutching the bag to his chest.

“Flee away, children,” he said. “I need the cookies to mend my broken heart.”

“What happened to your girlfriend? Weren’t you bringing her with you?” Sam asked.

Chase threw him a very impressive shade. “She dumped me, Samuel.”

“Why?”

“She couldn’t bear that I was prettier than her.”

You suspected Chase was just playing it out for the cookies. He did not look heartbroken in the least.

Once the food stash was considerably depleted, the girls, Jack and Max, picked up the racquets and divided their teams for Badminton. When Max insisted that you join them, Sam vehemently supported your argument of terrible hand-eye coordination. He knew and much like yourself, did not want to put other people in the way of the harm that you might inflict. In the end, only the group of four ended up on the blankets. Sam, Jody, you and Chase who was almost lying on his side, head resting on his hand, propped up on an elbow. He looked younger in a t-shirt and jeans.

“I still can’t believe you can cook all of this by yourself! No wonder Sam didn’t want to junk the marriage.”

“Chase!” Sam admonished, mortified, but you enjoyed Chase’s unapologetic behaviour, being all too tired of people stepping on eggshells around you- especially Sam.

“No, it’s alright,” you said, grinning at Chase, who returned your grin with a wink.

“You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?” He enquired.

“Well, actually…”

“Someone other than Jo,” he added quickly. “God knows I won’t survive a minute if I went toe to toe with Dean Winchester. One Winchester is enough to keep me in line.”

Sam threw Chase his classic bitchface then went back to his conversation with Jody. Eyeing his absorption, Chase tilted his head towards the side, “Care to join me for a walk, Y/N?”

You chanced a look at Sam, who was busy discussing a faculty matter and nodded. As quietly as you could, the two of you got up and moved away.

“So, did you end up applying? To Acton Gris, I mean?” He asked, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his pants.

“I did, the very evening. I’m trying not to be too hopeful.”

His green eyes regarded you. “Now, whyever would you do that?”

“Because I’m a realist and I know what type of competition I’m up against.”

Chase chuckled. “You’re too idealistic, Y/N. Even more than Mr. Mc-dreamy over there. Never thought I’d see him topped in that category. I’m still hopeful. Looks like I’m the only one.”

“Why do you care?” You asked. “What does it matter to you if I end up in Acton Gris or not?”

“It doesn’t. I think it would be great for your career and it’s my duty being from the same alma mater to further your cause.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And this has nothing to do with Sam.”

Chase was quiet for a long time, watching his steps as you strolled along the waterline, a safe distance away from it. You had given up on expecting an answer and were just beginning to wonder what would be a good time to turn around and head back when he finally spoke, “I’ll admit I haven’t been your biggest fan, Y/N. Sam never said a word against you… and that is exactly what pissed me off.”

This was in line with what you had pretty much already assumed so it didn’t come as a surprise.

“I’m telling you this because I know you ain’t a snowflake,” said Chase. “You don’t have the liberty to be a snowflake after everything you’ve been through. I also know you don’t care about my opinion of you.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you pointed out.

He sighed. “I suggested that you try at Acton Gris not for Sam’s sake but mine. That part I told you about- how Sam’s too high up to be involved with paralegals- is one hundred percent true. But I wanted to get to know you for myself.”

“To see if I was any good for Sam?”

Chase snorted. “This whole deal makes me sound like Sam’s possessive mistress but I am protective of him… and of his boy over there. I’ve been around for the start of that story, and they’ve been hurt enough. I am cad for saying this but I just didn’t trust you enough, and Sam being Sam was pining after you from day one… it’s quite tiresome to watch.”

“And now what? You suddenly approve of me? I passed some invisible test?”

“You guys are already married, who the heck am I to set a test for you? For the majority part I was telling the truth, you know. You’d flourish at Acton Gris. It would make you happy and Sam would be over the moon. But I still want to get to know you better.” He paused. “I haven’t had the best of family life growing up. More money than I could count, but my mother ditched me and my dad before I could spell out her name. I’ve seen him miserable for all his life… and well, it gave me mommy issues to last a lifetime.” Chase winked. “So all the meddling is clearly not me projecting my childhood abandonment issues on you. Clearly!”

Chase’s blunt honesty surprised you. He owed you nothing at all. Yet here he was answering all your questions. While he was at it, you decided to ask one more.

“Now you think I won’t break Sam’s heart?”

He looked at you and shook his head lightly. “I don’t know that. What I do know is that you won’t be able to break his heart without breaking your own first. I’ve only ever wanted him to be happy. Tried setting him up with a hundred girls, the guy just wouldn’t budge. Then you come back and it’s fucking sunshine all over his face. I know when to give up.”

Oddly, you understood exactly where Chase was coming from. He was so strongly rooted in Sam’s corner, all of his thoughts were biased, even if it meant being critical and wary of you. You hadn’t tried to achieve it, but somewhere in the middle you had gained both Chase’s confidence and his liking.

“What’s it like working under Sam?” You asked, changing the topic as well as voicing a curiosity.

Chase gave you a look. “Now or then?”

“Both,” you said after a minute.

“You’ve got to know, I used to look up to Sam when I was at Stanford- not that he knew I existed back then. He was in the final year, I was in the first, and he was everything I wanted to be- Top of his class, valedictorian, popular with the ladies. I applied at Johnson’s because of that.” He paused, continuing only after an encouraging look from you. “He was nothing like I remembered. Every time I faced him, there was a very real risk of being fired for the smallest mistake.”

Chase laughed. You did not. He was describing a Sam you couldn’t imagine, a Sam that shouldn’t have existed.

“Now he’s my best friend. At any rate, he’s about the only person who puts up with my dumb antics.”

“He puts up with a lot from a lot of people,” you murmured, absentmindedly staring at the lake.

A small moment caught your eye. The birdy that had been flying back and forth between the girls and the boys, flew over a bit too high and far. And as a reflex, Max, his eyes up, backed away fast.

“No!” You were already running by the time you realised that the terrified scream was yours.

“No, no… Chirp!” You shouted, but it was too late as the boy’s feet hit the wet slope. He slipped and tumbled back, rolling right into the water.

Your legs were aching from how hurriedly you dove after him, right into the bay, lashing in the water till your hands found Max’s body. Yanking him out of the water and against your body, you backed off quickly. You cradled his body on the sandy shore, frantically checking his face, arms to make sure he was alright. Max didn’t look hurt, just shocked and a bit scared.

“Are you okay?” You asked, too loudly. Max nodded.

Hands landed on your shoulder, your head. Voices told you to let go but you did not release Max, not till another voice murmured in your ear, “It’s alright, Y/N. He’s okay.”

You turned on Sam. “Why did you let him near water? Why weren’t you paying any attention?” You yelled, not relinquishing your hold on Max.

Sam crouched down before you, not attempting to reach out to Max, who was staring wide eyed at you.

“What if something had happened to him?” You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand. “He’s just a little boy! How could you be so careless?”

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and carefully wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Max is alright,” he said calmly, “You can let go of him.”

“No!”

“Y/N, you’re all wet and you’re starting to shake. Get inside the car before it gets worse.”

“But Max…”

“Max is fine,” Sam said in the same patient tone. “Look at the water, it’s not even waist deep. This side of the bay is very shallow for, at least, fifty yards and Max can swim very well.”

The realisation came very suddenly. Max had never been in any danger at all. The girls had sarongs on, maybe they had all intended a swim. You had needlessly created a scene, drenched Max more than he needed to be and yelled at Sam for being an irresponsible father.

The tears spilled over again but because of a different reason this time- shame. You let go of Max the next instant, staring pointedly at the ground.

Max turned in your lap. Small, soft hands came up to wipe away the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I won’t go near the water again.”

You threw your arms around him again and sobbed against his little neck. The people around you seemed to be closing in but you didn’t want to look up at any of them. Your heartbeat was thudding erratically against Max’s head but he didn’t make a move to leave or get up.

“C’mon, girls, start packing,” Jody ordered over you. “Give Y/N some space to breathe. You, too, lover boy!”

Four sets of feet scampered away.

“Chase, take Max to the blankets. There’s a fresh set of clothes in his bag.”

You did not want to let go of the boy. Doing so would make you face Sam.

It seemed Max was reluctant as well, but with one look at Sam, he disentangled himself. You felt the softest brush of his lips on your cheek and then Max was walking away, his hand in Chase’s.

Sam put both his hands against your arms and pulled you to your feet. He drew his coat tightly around you and started walking you towards his car, his palm firmly planted against your back.

You let him, without another word as he opened the door of the passenger seat for you to get in. Sam got in on the other side and turned the heat up. Only when the car started did you shake out of the quiet.

“Wait. Max?”

“Don’t worry about him. Chase will drive him home.”

Sam’s voice betrayed no emotion. Not anger or hurt. It was as composed as the many lectures he had delivered.

Ashamed of even meeting his gaze, you tipped your head against the window, glad that the side was facing the road instead of the bay and closed your eyes. It felt like floating in bliss if you buried your emotions down- this sensation of gliding on a smooth road, the heat in the car swirling with the scent of Sam’s cologne. It felt familiar and safe.

All too soon you were jerked awake, the car easing into the driveway and coming to a stop. It was already dark outside. Somehow you had slept through the whole ride. Your clothes were completely dry.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice like velvet in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Straightening up, you turned to face Sam who was looking down at you with concern etched on his face. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and spoke through a hoarse voice, looking at them. “Please forgive me.” Those three words did not even begin to cover the regret you felt over what had happened. You were an outsider, looking in on Sam’s life with this strange hunger and desire. You wanted to be a part of his little family so bad, but you weren’t yet. You didn’t know Max the way Sam did, did not understand Max’s choices, and the thoughts behind them. You did not have a right to him or Sam. Ignoring all of that, you had yelled at Sam, the way a wife would yell at her husband for neglecting their child. But, Sam wasn’t neglecting Max. Max wasn’t your son and you were barely Sam’s wife.

“It was thoughtless and stupid to raise my voice at you and say those words. I forgot that Max belongs to you, that you could never be careless towards him. I had no right to yell at you in front of everyone.”

Maybe it was all for good. Let Sam see what you were capable of. If he saw the truth of how broken you were, maybe he would stop wanting you in his life. Everyone knew how hysteric you could get now. So much for Jody rooting for you. So much for Chase’s hopes of Sam getting to be happy. They all saw you for who you truly were.

“You remember what I told you the other night?” Sam asked. “When you came over and we sat by the swing?”

The lightness of his voice made you look up. He should be angry, at least, pissed.

“I told you that I didn’t care what people thought about us.”

“Doesn’t justify what I did… How it must’ve looked...”

“You know how it looked to me?”

Sam’s eyes were clear, no resentment in them. “To me it looked like you ran to protect my son without caring for your life. You didn’t know the water wasn’t deep, you can’t swim and you’re fucking terrified of water. I’m not even talking about what the cold does to you. Why on earth would I care about how this looks to anyone else?”

You were transfixed by the depth of his words.

“Those people either love you or love me. I’m sure they saw it no differently than how I see it.”

“What about Max? I must’ve scared him so bad.” The poor boy hadn’t said anything except apologise to you for stepping in the water. It hadn’t been his fault.

Sam pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. I think he’s concerned about you the most.”

You put your head in your hands, weary. The fear was still an echo in your stomach despite the sleep, and it was getting stronger every minute- what if something had happened to Max?

“Can I ask you something?” Sam sounded hesitant.

“Mhmm.”

“Do you remember what you said right before you jumped in the water?”

You frowned, trying to remember. “Wasn’t I calling out to Max?” There had been no time to say anything or do anything else.

Sam’s face was tender as he said, “Yeah, you were calling out to Max.”

What a weird thing to ask! You tried harder, failing to remember what Sam was talking about.

Lights flared up behind. You leaned back, not realising just how close you were to Sam. The car coming from behind came to a halt at the start of the driveway. The doors opened and Max and Jack spilled out from either sides. Jack reached your door first. He opened it and pulled you into a hug without waiting for you to turn.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay.”

“You were shaking so bad.”

It was actually nothing compared to what Jack could have witnessed if Sam hadn’t whisked you off into the car and in front of a heater.

Chase’s reaction was a bit more subdued. He looked worried about how you were doing and wasn’t his usual boisterous self. When Sam invited him for dinner, he took a raincheck. So did Jack. Once, Chase had driven away, Sam looked at you expectantly, but you just shook your head. You had intruded on their time too much already.

You crouched down to Max’s level who was uncharacteristically quiet. “I scared you today, didn’t I?”

Max didn’t say anything. He placed the back of his hand against your forehead and then under your jaw.

“I’m alright, sweetie,” you assured him.

Max hugged you around the neck, and you hugged back tightly just for a second. You would jump inside a hundred lakes a hundred times without a single thought if it meant Max would be safe.

“I love you,” Max whispered very quietly in your ear. You were sure no one else had heard it.

Just as quietly, you whispered back. “I love you, too, my little boy.”

“Get inside, Max,” Sam said. “Wash your hands and change out of your clothes. I’ll be there in a minute to run the bath for you.”

With a small sigh, Max went inside, but not before giving you a smile.

“I’ll wait for you right outside the gate,” Jack told you. “It was great meeting you, Sam.”

“Likewise,” said Sam.

You watched Jack almost run out of sight.

“Cool kid,” Sam muttered, eyes in the same direction.

You sighed. “I can’t believe I ruined the picnic and put a damper on everyone’s mood.”

“C’mere.” Sam gently pulled you to him, so that your body was leaning against his. One hand was curled around your shoulder and his other hand was against your lower back. You could feel the tips on his fingers against the little skin exposed between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your pants. It sent a thrill through your body. “It’s like you have to find something to worry about all the time. Quit doing that. Everyone’s just glad that you’re okay. We’ll do this again sometime, alright? We can push Chase in the water next time.”

You snorted.

“And don’t worry about the yelling. You know I always liked it when you got bossy like that.”

Sam’s words made you giggle.

“There’s my girl.” His warm breath washed over your face.

What you did next was inexcusable. Without warning, you were reaching up on the tips of your toes, kissing him. Sam was surprised, his hands left your body, but you threw yours around his neck, raising yourself up against his tall frame. He was so shocked that he lost his balance and fell back against the wall next to his door. You did not give up, sucking on his lower lip, feeling the roll of his muscles under your hand.

Sam let out a primal sound and the next second you were turning, it was your back to the wall now. He hoisted you up against the surface by your waist with one hand, hitching your leg around his waist. The other hand tangled in your hair as his mouth worked hard against yours. His taste was heady, intoxicating and the way he was kissing you was enough to make you forget where you were, what you were doing. It would make you forget your own name. The hand at your waist travelled under the hem of your shirt, clutching at the skin on your lower back, and his lips started to travel downwards, sucking, biting, along your chin to your jaw and back down again to the column of your neck. Sam wasn’t gentle… and as you gasped, indecently, eyes closed, you didn’t want him to be gentle either.

No, you wanted him to be rougher, go harder and never stop.

“Daaaaaadd!” Max sang from the inside and the two of your sprang apart. Your feet landed on the ground with resounding reality.

"Coming," he said, voice thick.

Sam bent down, hands on his knees, gasping hard.

“Oops!” You muttered.

He looked up at you with a boyish grin, face flushed, looking years younger.

“I better go,” you said, biting your lip. “Jack’s waiting for me.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to ask you to stay and by the looks of it, he wanted the exact same thing.

“Uhhh yeah…” Sam huffed, shifting slightly, trying to adjust his jeans furtively. That made your face grow hotter.

“Bye!” You ducked out of the porch, not looking back, least you should turn around and attack him again. What had gotten into you to react so wildly? That must’ve been highly inappropriate!

A small voice in your head told you that it was anything but inappropriate… technically, at least.

Jack’s face lit up when he saw you and then it immediately dropped.

“What happened?”

“Y-Your hair!” He muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

“Oh!” It was mussed up in all directions. Hurriedly, you ran your fingers through it, hoping for some semblance. “Sorry.”

After a minute, Jack sneaked a glance and then smiled impishly. “I’m sorry. It’s just the idea of you making out with someone gives me the heebies… You’re like my sister!” He screwed up eyes into slits to show the cringe.

You laughed.

At the door, Jack gave you another hug. “I gotta say, Y/N, I wasn’t convinced about this whole Sam business before today. Neither was Kev. You know we would always support you with whatever you decided, but seeing you with him was very relieving. I won’t worry again.”

It was heartening, how much everyone cared for you.

You had to take a cold shower once inside, despite your composition. It was regretful, because the water washed away the remnants of Sam’s smell off of you. Idly, you wondered if you could steal the shirt he had lent you and keep it for yourself, climb into it when you went to bed like you used to.

The shower was necessary to reign in the utter chaos that was your brain. The evening had been eventful enough, but what had happened on Sam’s porch? How were you ever going to keep your hands away from him now? Abstaining was your idea to begin with. Sam had bared his heart to you, and this was your decision to keep your hands to yourself till you said the three words back to him.

So much for self control. But the way he’d looked at you, angels would have fallen for less. You were only a human. Besides, nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Sam’s lips, his fingers digging in your back, his body pressed against yours.

You got into the bed, missing the warmth of his body when your phone pinged. Rolling on your stomach, you reached out to grab it from the nightstand praying the text was from the one person you wanted it to be from. It was.

*I missed that. I missed us*

Hugging the phone to your chest, you sighed like a teenager back from her first kiss. The incidence with water should have shaken you, the way you were wrecked anytime you got drenched, instead you were laying in bed grinning like an idiot.

*I missed us, too*

His reply was instantaneous.

*It’s been a while…*

What an idiot! You knew what he was implying. As if he could ever be less than perfect at anything, especially at that.

You typed your response quickly.

*Oh, Mr. Winchester, you always knew how to show a girl a good time*

The tightening in your stomach which refused to go away despite the cold shower was proof enough. Your skin still tingled.

*That’s comforting… and encouraging ;)*

Yes, it was going to be really hard to go back to keeping your hands off each other now. Being around him was like breaking dams. Once you broke one, it was impossible to put that barrier back up again. The class tomorrow was going to be excruciating. For tonight, you let the wildest fantasies mingled with old memories take up all of your brain space. Even if it left you writhing in your sheets.

*Good night, Mr. Winchester*

You saw the three dots following one another and then disappearing as Sam typed. Once, twice, thrice. Finally the little pop up bubble appeared.

*Good night, Mrs. Winchester. I love you*

**********************************

A/N 2: I quite like this part. Gave me the chance to explore how delicate, confusing, dependent and volatile emotions can be at the same time. I think if I hadn’t had the backing of 35 chapters, I’d never be able to pull of the conversations in this chapter, Sam, Chase, Jack... all of them. They wouldn’t have been as funny, emotional or exciting. That’s just me thinking maybe.

Image source

If you want be tagged, you can send me an ask or add yourself to the taglist here.

Or here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

ALLU taglist:

@gabavaldman @im-a-light-child @cosicas-cuquis @bllyjianne @hoboal87 @i-is-for-inspiring @daughterleftbehind @wackiekebab @mylovelydame21 @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba @superbadassnatural @babypink224221 @badlittlehabit99 @anathewierdo @sams-bubblegum-bitch @fandomoverdose666 @superstarmarvel @atc74 @aiofheavenandhell @rebel-author-chick @death-unbecomes-you @cookiechipdough @kbl1313 @linki-locks11 @miss-nerd95 @sunflowers-n-rocknroll @stoneyggirl @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @niyahgray @traceyaudette @blueaura @awfulmoons @waterlily502 @mrsbatesmotel53 @superblyscrumptiousdonut2 @spn-ficfanatic @thestralsaregood @shesnotmaria @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

#Sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester reader insert #sam x reader fluff #sam fluff #lawyer!sam #professor!sam #lawyer!sam x reader #professor!sam x reader #dad!sam #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #anawrites #anawritesspn #ptsd #allu 36 #Ana writes ALLU #q

107 notes · View notes

votederpycausemufins · 4 years ago

Text

And this is the end of the story. Sort of. I’m going to do one or two more ‘chapters’ that are more just... you guys send me asks about the story and I’ll compile them into a chapter or two. it can be stuff like ‘i didn’t fully understand this’ or ‘can you tell more about that’ or ‘what if X happened instead.’ I’m also doing this on the Ao3 side since more people have been commenting there, but you can still use my inbox or leave messages on this post itself, whatever works for you.

Of course, all this is possibly due to the Hermit!Tommy au being created by @petrichormeraki

Mumbo groaned as he woke up, most of his body aching for some reason. Looking around, he was glad to see he was in his own bed at least. Next to him, curled up in the covers was Jrumbot who seemed to be hooked up to his redstone chargers. Mumbo patted his son’s head before pushing himself up so he could look around.

Grumbot was propped up in a nearby chair, also asleep and charging. The door to the room was cracked open and Mumbo could hear voices coming from somewhere behind it. His eyes were then drawn to an item frame with a mask of his robot skin. At least it seemed to be similar if not exactly the same. Most likely Grian had hung it up because he sure didn’t himself.

Mumbo dragged himself out of bed and walked towards whoever was talking. Getting closer, he could recognise Tommy and Grian’s voices, but there seemed to be a third person there as well. It was probably someone from Tommy’s old world, so Mumbo wasn’t too worried.

Before he could quite tell what exactly they were discussing, they stopped as Grian noticed Mumbo walking their way. “Mumbo! You’re awake!” The avian went over and hugged Mumbo before pulling him over and using the redstoner as something to lean against, nearly pushing him over in the process. “How are you feeling?

“Like I got crushed working on a redstone project with pistons. What are you wearing?” Mumbo saw Grian’s Watcher mask, not having seen it before.

“Oh this? Well… uh, you hit your head pretty hard back there, what do you remember?” Even though the mask covered Grian’s eyes, he could tell that the avian was sending glances to Tommy and the other person in the room.

“I remember up to confronting Dream after we got you back. But much after that is a bit fuzzy. I still remember bits and pieces of course.”

“Told ya.” The unfamiliar voice spoke and Mumbo finally got the chance to turn and look where their guest was sitting. He almost drew his weapon when he saw them, but he held himself back.

“Why’s Dream here?” Mumbo hazarded a glance back to Grian, hoping for an answer but Tommy was the one to answer instead.

“Not Dream, this is Drista. She’s Dream’s sister but she’s cool.” Mumbo accepted that answer as he could see the resemblance with their taste for similar mask styles.

“Yep, sorry about that. You panicked and attacked and I clocked you over the head.” Mumbo frowned at her cheerful tone but then Grian spoke and drew his attention away from the girl.

“As for the mask, while I’m mostly fine, there’s still some stuff I’m recovering from and the Watchers panicked since someone was able to mess with me and gave me a prescription for these. I might even keep them because it helps me not go crazy when in a Watcher State.”

Mumbo nodded, glad for the explanation. Then he turned his attention to Tommy. “Tommy? I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I wasn’t in a good headspace at the time. I of course can’t recall everything I was thinking at the time, but either way, I want to apologize.”

Tommy just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Grian told we what shit was going on since he talked with you. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

Mumbo started to open his mouth to reply, but Grian stopped him. “Can you go wake the kids? They’ve been charging for a while and I think they’ll want to be up now that you’re awake.” The Redstoner hesitated, but did agree and headed back to his room. Once he was far enough away, Grian sighed. “That was close.”

“I’m sure he won’t have a complete mental breakdown if you bring up the VGs.” Drista said, leaning back against the wall behind her. “If anything happens, just slap the mask back on and then pull it off, it should pull it away.”

Grian crossed his arms, wings folding tightly behind him. Even though they couldn’t see his face well, he still looked down to the ground. “It still doesn’t feel right. He essentially is always going to have one part of his life he can’t remember.”

Drista gave an exasperated groan. “Oh stop complaining! He wanted this because he wanted to stay with you for whatever reason. He can always just stay a Vault God and you can never see him again. How’s that sound?” Grian was quiet. “That’s what I thought. Welp, now that we know he’s fine, I’m out of here.” And then she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tubbo didn’t stay with Crumb and Sparklez for too long, needing to get admin training from Xisuma with Ranboo. Xisuma would not admit to a single person how many times he needed to take something for the headaches he got from teaching the two of them, but after interacting with the other smp members, he was perfectly fine with the current pair.

The smp island didn’t last long as members griefed it so many times that Scar finally threw his hat down and said he wouldn’t fix it anymore. He tried two more times after that, but it was the principle of the matter. The area was moved further away to a larger chunk of land that wasn’t too close to anyone’s base so that way the smp members could still have a place to start in Hermittown but also have areas to expand to. Most people went back and forth, though Philza seemed to be taking up a permanent residence in the town.

Grumbot went to visit his grandpa once, but he quickly was given the rule of not being able to go alone after that when he immediately tried to set up an election for mayor of the town. Techno tried to attack him, but he forgot the details of Grumbot being a robot, specifically one that had extensive knowledge of political figures, and Techno being both a former prince and an anarchist, the bot had a good idea of how to defend against the warrior. He still needed repairs when Grian arrived to scold him, but no one died.

After Tubbo had learned enough from Xisuma, he went back to traveling around with his dad and Crumb. It would never be longer than a week, but it was painfully obvious when he was gone as Tommy would seem down. At the very least there were a few times that Tommy was able to go along with Tubbo to see the sights.

Tommy and Mumbo eventually warmed up to each other again, mainly because Grian forced them to do more things together. They finally seemed to officially be on good terms after dragging a few smp members into Hermit Challenges together.

Grian attempted another war, which started poorly as the smp members jumped to conclusions and escalated on their own. Tubbo and Ranboo had to step in to stop it for the hermits to give them a rundown of how wars worked on the server. There were a few hiccups after that, but for the most part, things went well.

After Hbomb had first gotten a tour of the server and had seen Cub’s base, he ended up mining a large amount of ancient debris and making a wall of it on the smp side as a social experiment. It lasted longer than he thought, but still didn’t last all that long. After a few weeks he made a second one and was pleasantly surprised to see it stand longer than the first had.

With Dream gone, things started to calm down for the smp members, but a number of them still tended to wake up thinking things were back how they used to be. Mumbo ended up buying a space close to Odea and making a therapy shop which did quite well. He was also pleasantly surprised to see the Odea store suddenly getting sales as the smp members seemed to actually want the services.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian sat on the railing on the balcony of his mansion, right under the large G. Next to him was Tommy and they looked down at the two teams of four people doing a barge box quest. Grian specifically wanted two hermits and smp members on each team for a better balance and he had even reduced the prices for the smp members specifically. Sure it was a competition, but really Grian wanted the two worlds to get along.

“Didn’t Scar say you did this in the last one?” Tommy looked over at Grian who didn’t take his eyes off the people below.

“Hmm, sort of. It’s a little different. They’re placing blocks instead of putting them in the chest. Mumbo helped with the redstone for it. It cycles placing blocks inside so you can’t just take them all out and not do anything. There’s a delay once the last block is out so after a short bit they’ll get their note saying where to fly to next.”

Tommy nodded, glad Mumbo wasn’t the one telling him this and making it sound even more complicated. “How’s he doing by the way? That war got a little crazy near the end.”

“He’s fine. I made up some excuse for the mask. Accidentally overcharged it with Watcher magic so only for extreme emergencies.”

“Sorry for being busy end-busting.”

“Not your fault. It sounds like it was fun.”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, Tubbo only tried cheating once. Xisuma noticed almost immediately and called him up to scold him. I didn’t even realize he was doing it in the middle of a fight.”

“Speaking of, why didn’t Tubbo bring you back when he teleported home to deal with things?”

“So we could continue once he was done with that. We want to kick back and relax, not get in another war.”

“Oh, I see how it is. Our wars are too good for you!”

Tommy and Grian laughed until Grian noticed one group start flying off, the second group not that far behind. “Alright, time to head to the third checkpoint. You want a head start before I beat you there?”

“Hey Big G, that’s not fair. You got those fucking wings of yours.”

“That’s why you get a head start.” Grian smirked, making Tommy realize what was about to happen and he immediately jumped off the balcony and used a rocket to propel himself in the direction of the next checkpoint.

“See you later bird boy!”

“Not if I get you first!” Grian yelled back. He would give Tommy a few minutes, but then the gloves were off. He loved how grumpy Tommy looked when he carried the blond while flying. And any chance to make a little game of it was something Grian liked. “Alright, that’s enough time.” And then he was in the air, flying off towards his brother.

#hermit!tommy #hermit!tommy au #tommyinnit #grian #grian xelqua #watcher!grian #avian!grian #mumbo jumbo #vault god!mumbo #drista #xisumavoid #tubbo #ranboo #grumbot #jrumbot

43 notes · View notes

jefferoni-quotes · 4 years ago

Text

coffee mates and clueless dates

I've never written for Thomgelica before but oh well!

1,348 words

Reblogs > Likes

Full fic under the cut!

When Eliza tells her she's hired a new employee without telling her, Angelica is - of course - surprised. She's a little taken aback at her sisters' straight-forwardness, and that she doesn't even know who the new employee is. But Eliza refuses to tell her anymore than the man’s name, a certain Thomas Jefferson. She can’t decide if he sounds good for the job, but it’s too late for her to decide. If he can't pour a coffee, then he won't last long. The Schuylers pride themselves on their little independent coffee shop being amazing quality. Angelica berates Elizabeth as literally hitting her wrist gently, and reminding her to inform her before she hires someone next time. Eliza had merely winked at her, told her just to wait and see the guy come in.

Angelica is wiping down the table top, using a white cloth just to swipe the breadcrumbs to the floor for later, when the bell at the door rings signifying someone else walking in. She glances up and- wow. So, whoever this is, whether it be a customer or a new employee, he is exactly Angelica's type, and that's just from looks. Tall, handsome and seemingly full of charisma, simply from the way he walks.

She watches him saunter up to the counter, lean on it with one elbow and smile. Dashingly…

What was getting into her? Angelica was the calm, unaffected one! She didn't fall for smoldering good looks! "Hello," she started, "can I help you?"

"I would sure hope so," his voice comes out a slow, Southern drawl, it leaves her clinging onto every syllable, ogling like a simple school-girl. "I'm the new start," he stands up straight and offered a hand across the counter.

Angelica takes it in her own, shaking firmly. He has an excellent handshake, which always makes for a good start, seems relatively confident in himself. "Oh, perfect. I'm Angelica Schuyler, co-owner. I suppose my sister was the one who hired you? Thomas Jefferson, right?"

Thomas let go of her hand right before it got too awkward, "that's me, I'm happy to start here. Need something to get me through law school," he chuckled a little.

Angelica found herself smiling, so he was smart too? Damn Eliza to hell, she knew exactly what she was up to.

Angelica is 100% going to kill her sister.

She was never one to fall for guys so easily, but a good looking, self assured, smart man - who is a little clumsy and ever so slightly clueless? Well, he ticks every box.

And it simply isn't fair, because she should be opposed to this Jefferson, after all, she is technically his boss. But he's so clueless and helpless and honestly it's doing things to her heart that it shouldn't. He's playing her like a goddamn fiddle and he doesn't even know it. (Maybe violin would be more fitting - since she discovered Thomas actually can play violin.)

Angelica takes every opportunity to help Thomas, even having Eliza overtake her place at the front of house, just to help Thomas fixing the coffee machine. She notices that he finds it especially difficult talking to customers if he's unlucky enough that they start small talk. Angelica has watched his eyes screw up for that single beat, sees only the tips of his ears go a dusty sort of pink with nerves. And she takes pity on him, takes him under her wing and teaches him all there is to know.

She doesn’t need to thread her fingers with him to show him how to work the cashier on his third time using it - but she does. And she doesn’t need to astound at how soft at how meticulously smoothed with bath products his skin is either - but she sure does. Angelica giggles when Thomas trips over the legs of chairs, curses under his breath to himself. It’s weird - strange - how the Southern fuck captured her attention, dragged her under into the deep depths of attraction, but she left her life jacket behind and never learned how to swim, so she’s happy to drown in the view of Thomas.

She almost hates herself for it, she’s strong goddamn it! She doesn’t need a man… until she does. Fuck- fuck society for forcing the perspective she needs a partner, fuck Eliza for hiring a sweet dork, fuck Peggy for laughing whenever she blushes at his oddly flirtatious comments. And especially, fuck Thomas for not seeing that she’s falling head over heels for him when she doesn’t want to.

But he keeps doing this thing where he bats his eyelashes in the light, or tucks his hair behind his ear and smiles at her - all teeth and brightness in his eyes. And it’s killing her. It’s making her melt and building her stronger all at once. She consults Eliza one night after closing, while they’re cleaning tables of stale coffee and donut crumbs, to which she gets, “just ask him out, Angie,” she had giggled every time Thomas moved past her from there.

Maybe Thomas even felt the same way, he seemed to squeeze past her through tables, maybe his eyes lingered on her a little too long, or maybe… just maybe he was picking up on her hints?

“Wanna grab a coffee one day?”

She finally works up the courage to ask him out, tapping him on the shoulder when she’s on her break and Thomas is washing out a ceramic mug.

“We sell coffee every day, I can get one whenever,” he pauses and turns to her, placing the mug in lukewarm water. “Wait- do I get an employee discount?” Thomas’ whole face lights up again, that way that makes her stomach feel all fluttery and gross.

Angelica swallows thickly, nods her head and internally screams. “Yes, we get an employee discount, ten percent,” she grits her teeth, turns on her heel before she hears Thomas’ turn the tap back on.

So Thomas is a little more clueless than she first expected, maybe she should just be more obvious. Angelica knows she should really give up now, but there’s something nagging in the back of her mind - that that extra bit of stupid has managed to make her more attracted to him. It isn’t fair. Fuck!

Despite Peggy’s suggestions which is to quit while she’s ahead, Angelica tries again.

“Hey, Tom? Do you wanna get dinner tonight?” She asks, leans on the counter as a customer leaves. The store is oddly empty for once, and she uses it to her advantage.

“We serve dinner?!” God he’s so STUPID! How can someone be studying to be a lawyer and not see a date request even when it slaps them across the face!

“No! We do not serve dinner!” Angelica snaps. She drops her head to her hands, cradling herself. “God- you’re so- fuck. How are you so smart and so dumb all at once?” She mutters, almost ready to cry or hit the table or something.

“Hey… you okay, Angie? What’s bothering you?” Thomas leans over the counter until he’s close to her ear to whisper and it finally makes her snap her head up.

“You! You’re the problem! I’ve been asking you out, and you just- how are you not catching on!?” Angelica slams her hands down on the tabletop and gets up in his face. She can smell a mix of coffee beans and expensive cologne, stinging in her nose.

Thomas leans back, so he’s not quite in her face and exhales softly. “Ohhh,” he drags and chuckles, hanging his head to hide his smile. Angelica spots the tops of his ears go red. “Then I accept. Sorry, I’m just really fucking stupid.”

“Well, at least you admit it. Tonight at 7? Italian over the road?” Angelica suggests.

“I was thinking the Mexican next door.” Thomas counteracts her with a raised eyebrow, gesturing vaguely out the window.

“I don’t do Mexican, not on the first date.”

“Fine, the Italian then.”

“Perfect.”

Angelica smiles. Maybe this clueless coffee boy will be better at dates than he is at flirting.

I'm too lazy to tag people sorry 😭

Reblogs mean more than likes, if you like it reblog it!

Leave feedback please I thrive off it 😭😭💖💖💖

#hamilton #hamilton: an american musical #hamilton musical #hamilton: the musical #thomas jefferson #angelica schuyler #thomgelica #hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfiction #roro writes #roros writing

68 notes · View notes

slyttherins · 4 years ago

Text

A Jily wedding | Wolfstar

Summary: Slices of life leading up to Jily’s wedding

Pairing: Sirius Black x Remus Lupin / James Potter x Lily Evans

Word count: 2589

James, Sirius and Peter sat at a table at the Leaky Cauldron, drinking beers and celebrating James' last days as an unmarried man.

''I can't believe you're getting married. Married!''

James rolled his eyes and finished the last of his beer. ''Shut up, Pads.''

''I mean, who would've thought you'd end up marrying Evans. All those years of trying and failing to get her on a date finally gave something.''

On the other side of the table, Peter snickered, remembering how desperate James had always been for her during their years at Hogwarts. Someone will without a fail mention it during their speech at the wedding. There were so many good stories about James Potter's grand flirting techniques - and failures -, it would be a shame to not share some with their guests.

''Moony, where are our beers?'' James called out to him.

''Coming!'' he replied from the bar, only now receiving the tall glasses. ''You're getting the next round,'' he told Peter when he sat down.

Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders and toasted to James - again.

''I don't get it. How can you be so calm about this? You're getting fucking married in twelve days, Prongs!''

The closer they were to their wedding day, the less nervous James was - unlike Lily who was a nervous wreck, planning everything with his mother. Sometimes, she'd ask his opinion on things like cake toppers or flowers, but James always told her the same thing: I don't care, do what you please. To some, it could pass like he was behaving like an ass, but he truly didn't care whether there were white or blue or yellow flowers on the table-centers. To him, all that mattered was that his beautiful fiancé would become his wife at the end of the ceremony. That Lily Evans would become Lily Potter. The rest...was just confetti.

''Is Petunia coming?''

Remus Lupin knew nothing about weddings, but, unlike the other marauders, he was helpful. He had come to the Potters' to help Lily with some last minute preparations like the final seating chart and making sure everything was in order for next week - and she couldn't be more thankful.

Lily looked down. ''No. She...she isn't,'' she replied, feeling her eyes welled with tears.

Remus pursed his lips into a thin line, now regretting asking. ''I'm sorry.''

''She made her choice a long time ago. I don't know why I ever thought for a second that she'd send a positive RSVP...''

''She's your sister. You're allowed to be upset.''

''I thought she could make an exception for one day, for my big day, and put her hatred against the wizarding world aside, but I guess not.''

Family was a difficult subject for Lily Evans. Mainly her relationship with her sister, Petunia. They used to be very close, but her witch abilities put a strain between and their relationship had kept deteriorating until they became completely distant.

Two years ago, Lily - alongside James - had attended Petunia and Vernon's wedding. Although they hadn't talked the whole night, Lily saw this as a step into rekindling their relationship, but Petunia had proven wrong when she didn't return the favor and checked the RSVP as 'no' for Lily's wedding.

''My parents cannot make it to my wedding either. It's so sad to think that on my big day I won't have any family there to see me walk down the aisle. I don't even have someone to give me away to James-'' She pushed her face in her hands, more upset than she let on.

Remus' heart broke at the sight of a crying Lily, five days before her wedding. She didn't deserve this. She deserved a beautiful wedding with all of her loved ones in the attendance. A wedding filled with love and happiness.

He squeezed her forearm. ''You have me. I can be your family for one day.''

At Hogwarts, she and Remus had become best friends - much to James' jealousy. Their friendship wasn't to the marauders' level, but they were very close - thanks to being both prefects, and studying and potion partners.

If James were there, he'd add that they were both bookworms too.

Lily raised her head, the couple tears she had let slip now visible. ''You'd do that?''

Remus nodded. Yeah, he'd do that.

This morning, a letter had arrived from Madam Malkin announcing that their robes were finished being crafted and that the boys could come in and try them on in the afternoon.

The accent color of the wedding was a rich purple-y red color which somehow suited everyone. When Madam Malkin revealed the robes to the marauders, they were pleasantly surprised and excited to try them on.

Everyone's robes were different while being cohesive, just like their personalities. The base of the outfit was simple: white shirt and black trousers - except for Peter who was the ring bearer. James, as the groom, had a cloak, a vest - matching with his best man - and a bow tie. Instead of a bow tie, Sirius and Remus had matching ties. Remus also had suspenders instead of a vest because Lily prefered that for him - and, according to Sirius, he looked fine.

''How do I look?'' James asked, standing in front of the floor length mirror and perfecting the cloak over his shoulders.

''It looks nice. But, won't you get hot in this?'' Peter replied, slouched in one of the chairs, munching on some snacks and leaving crumbs on his nice dress shirt.

''Probably. I'm only wearing the cloak for the ceremony, though. Padfoot? Moony, what do you thi-'' James turned around and groaned, seeing the two kissing in the corner. ''Bloody hell, can you two not suck faces for ten minutes?''

At James' voice, Remus pulled away and looked down, sheepish. ''Sorry.'' His lips were slightly red and a piece of his hair was sticking up at the back.

Sirius, on the other hand, was unbothered and still staring at Remus as if he was some bone to munch on. ''If Evans hadn't put Moony in bloody suspenders and fit trousers, it wouldn't be an issue,'' he defended, taking a seat beside Peter. ''Have you seen his ass-''

''I don't want to hear it!'' James interrupted before Sirius could finish, raising his hands to cover his ears like a child.

Madam Malkin appeared in the fitting area. ''Everything alright here? I heard screaming.''

''All good, Madam Malkin,'' Remus replied politely with a small smile, hoping she hadn't noticed his burning cheeks.

Sirius looked smug and Peter was snickering in his seat, amused by the situation.

''If one of you tears or stain anything before the wedding, you'll be paying for the repairs,'' James warned them - Peter included.

One week before the wedding, James did the unthinkable and walked in on Lily trying on her dress. It wasn't intentional - he didn't even know she was home -, but Mrs. Potter had shooed him out of the room quickly, screaming that it was bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the wedding.

''I didn't even see the dress!'' he promised from the other side of the door. ''But, just so you know, I'd still marry you if you were wearing a pillow case.''

Lily had laughed. She was going to marry that idiot. ''And you better have a dress robes when I see you at the altar, Potter.''

''So...who's next?''

''Next what?'' Remus asked, confused.

''Who's the next marauder to tie the knot?''

''Well, Peter. But I suggest you take a seat because that's not happening for a long time. Have you seen him flirt with Dorcas? He can't even pick up that she isn't interested in boys!''

They both bursted laughing.

''It must be you, then.''

Remus choked on his tea, almost spittering it all on himself. ''You know Sirius and I can't get married, Evans.''

''Not now, obviously.''

''Even if we could, marriage isn't Sirius and I's deal. We love each other very much, but have no intention on getting married - ever.''

Although it could sound nice to call Sirius his husband, Sirius' view on marriage had been heavily tainted because of his family and blood purity obsession. In the Noble House of Black, you didn't marry out of love, but to keep the bloodline pure. Toujour pur.

A few years ago, his parents had even tried to force him into marrying his cousin, Narcissa. Sirius had found it morally disgusting and was very thankful when Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy.

''He might changed his mind for you.''

''How was your afternoon with Lily? Has she gone all bridezilla yet?'' Sirius asked when he heard the door of his and Remus' shared flat open and close.

Remus chuckled as he removed his boots. ''Surprisingly, no. She'd have all the reasons to, though. She received some last minute RSVPs and has nowhere to place them on the seating chart, the florists got the wrong colors for the arrangements and the Ceremony Official mixed up his dates and Lily and James' date isn't available anymore,'' he explained. ''If I were her, I'd be crying on the floor - but don't tell her that.''

Sirius laughed and went around the counter to greet Remus properly, abandoning the sandwich he was making himself. ''Your secret's safe with me, love.'' He kissed Remus who scrunched his nose, smelling a mix of exhaust and leather on his boyfriend.

''You've taken out the motorcycle?''

''Yeah. I went on a ride with Prongs. We came up with a genius idea to drive him to the altar on my motorcycle, but there's very small chances Lily will let us.''

''With reason.''

Much like Remus, Lily wasn't a fan of that motorcycle. Motorcycles itself were dangerous and had a high risk of fatalities, but Sirius' was huge and fast and could fly, which made it ten times more dangerous. Plus, James and Sirius were very reckless on that motorcycle and had once been chased by muggle authorities.

The ceremony went on smoothly - if you don't count Peter almost dropping the rings. James had shed a few tears when he saw Lily in her white dress and Lily didn't forget her vows, which she had been nervous about. Her memory wasn't the best under stress.

After saying 'I do', everyone had moved to the magically enlarged ball room for the reception. As expected, the place was beautiful. Rich purple-y red and white flower arrangements, chic drapes, floating lights and a massive cake.

Like expected, Sirius had filled his best man speech with embarrassing anecdotes of the couple - mainly on James' end. He did tease a bit Lily too - otherwise it wouldn't have been fair -, but he was harder on James, as expected. The guests had laughed and James was embarrassed, which was all Sirius wanted.

''You just wait for payback on your wedding day, Padfoot,'' James threatened as they shared a shoulder hug.

Lily might not have gone all bridezilla on her wedding planning, but she insisted on handing her guests a list of rules for the night. There weren't too many and they were simple and basic. No pranks. No gorging yourselves at the buffet table. No exhibitionism. No drunken speeches. No getting so wasted you can't walk. No white for the women attending.

Some were specifically hinted toward one or more people, but she figured that all their guests could use those rules.

Lily had joined Remus at a table as the guests danced to rest her sore feet. She had charmed her shoes before putting them on so they wouldn't hurt her feet from wearing them all night, but the charm must've worn out by now.

''Mrs. Potter,'' Remus greeted, nodding his head.

The redhead chuckled and took a sip of her champagne. ''That's me.''

''You look beautiful, Lily. Radiant.''

''I can't believe I'm married, Remus. Married! This is insane.'' She smiled and took another sip.

A few feet from them, Sirius' shirt was halfway unbuttoned and his tie was undone as he danced with James, a drink in his left hand. His hair was pulled into a messy half-up, too hot to let them down fully, and Remus watched with discouragement and endearment. They looked ridiculous.

''Seeing this makes me regret what I just willingly signed up for.''

Remus laughed. ''Worry not, we're in this together.''

''They look like idiots.''

They laughed and James held on to Sirius who's drink tilted and almost made a mess. Sirius brought it up to his lips and kept on dancing with his best friend.

''You think Sirius will make it till the end of the night? How many drinks has he had?''

At this moment, Sirius tripped on his own foot, making him vacillate and almost falling. More than he should've.

''I'll handle him,'' Remus assured.

When Remus decided it was enough, he pried Sirius from the room and led him to one of the couches in a secluded part of the ball room to - hopefully - sober up before going home.

Lily had offered them a sobering potion, but Remus had declined it, knowing Sirius would be annoyed and want to drink more after - which he really shouldn't if he doesn't want to get alcohol poisoning. It wasn't his first time dealing with a drunk Sirius - and he didn't really mind. He was easy enough to manage.

Sirius' head rested against the high armrest of the couch, sprawled like his bones had been replaced with jelly. Drunk and dazed, he reached out for his boyfriend and dragged him down with him, making Remus squeal in surprise.

Sirius took hold of his hand and brought it to his face and leaned into it as Remus sat on his lap.

''Where's your tie?'' Remus asked, not seeing the silky strip around his neck.

Sirius looked down and shrugged, only now noticing that it was in fact not there anymore. He shrugged, not caring much about the lost tie. It's not like he had planned to wear it again.

''You're very drunk.''

''And you're very pretty.'' Sirius wrapped his arms around Remus' neck and started kissing his jaw lovingly and drunkenly. ''I love you, Moony.''

In his last stage of drunkenness, Sirius Black was a needy and affectionate drunk - before blacking out, that is. Once he was past the goofing with James stage, he was the neediest person, wanting nothing else than to hug, cuddle and kiss everybody he knew - especially Remus.

He'd look around the room, searching for Remus just so he could wrap his arms around him and kiss his face and flirt with him. To love and be loved in return. It was all a drunk Sirius wanted - needed.

Remus tried to resist Sirius' kissing and pulled away, insisting on keeping his promise to Lily and following her wedding rules. He looked down at the raven haired wizard, seeing clearly how much of a mess he looked with pieces of hair were falling into his heavy eyes, a soft smile across his lips and the smooth skin of his chest on display from his half buttoned shirt.

''Shall we go home?'' Remus took a piece of Sirius' hair and twirled it around his fingers.

Sirius shook his head in protest, feeling the effects of alcohol dissipate a little. ''Wanna stay a little more,'' he said...only to change his mind less than a minute later, which made Remus laugh.

''Let's go say goodbye to the newlyweds, first.'' Remus helped him get up from the couch and walked back to the party area.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #jily #jily fic #sirius black #remus lupin x sirius black #Remus Lupin #james potter #lily evans #harry potter fic #marauders era #wedding fic

28 notes · View notes

anthonyed · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! If you’re still doing prompts, can you do 49. “Who hurt you?” Or 53. “Who cares about what they think?” + stevebucky?

Anon, I wanted to do both, but I only managed one this time :/ Maybe the second one would be a fluffier Part 2 to this piece in the future. If that happens, I'd rb this with the link (From this list: “Who hurt you?”)

-//-

There’s a boy in his class he’d never seen before.

Stick-like with dishwater hair and a beak for a nose. He walks around like he’s got the entire world on his bony shoulders; head down, eyes on the floor and he makes sure he’s one with the wall all the time.

Bucky knows it’s not his business, but he knows what a fist to the face tastes like on the tongue, so he makes it his, anyway.

Two weeks into the term, he catches the boy out of the school gate and asks, “Are you new here?”

The boy startles and looks up and - My god! Bucky thinks.

He’s got the prettiest pair of blue for his eyes and if Bucky had been thirteen, crushing on a boy for the first time, he would have freaked out.

As it is, he’s 17 and been out for a year now. So he shakes the awe out of his fluttering lashes and puts on his best smile. “Hello, I’m Bucky Barnes,” he says. Hands held out for an offer to shake.

But the boy looks at him then his hand and he looks up again and he mutters, “Keep away from me.”

Bucky has faced rejection a billion times, he’s not a stranger to being shunned because of his sexual preference, but hell. This wasn’t even a come on. He was just introducing himself. And the response he got to that just pisses him off - beautiful boy or not.

“Shit dude, who hurt you,” he scowls. “Here I am offering friendship cause you look like you could use one and - you know what. Fuck you, man. You wanna be alone? Hell if I care.”

Should have stayed in his lane. Should not have made this boy his business. Should have known he was just like the rest of them jerks.

Except he looks like he’d sucked on a sour candy upon hearing Bucky’s words and he stutters out a soft sorry. “I thought you - you were gonna jump me.”

“Well, I wasn’t, all right,” Bucky sighs, raking his fingers through his hair and it’s kind of awkward.

But he walks home that day with the boy’s name fresh on his lips and his hand still warm from a shake.

Steve Rogers is turning 18 in three months against all odds. Ma seems to tear up more and more leading his birthday and he cannot blame her for that. She’s emotional, and if he wasn’t so hopeless himself, perhaps he’d feel the same.

Living with Cystic Fibrosis sent him to deathbed more than once. He’d greeted the reaper, kissed its hand but every time they thought this was it; he was pulled back to earth once again.

He doesn’t hate life, he just thinks he’s been fated to death since the day he was born.

So he keeps to himself; doesn’t make any connections he cannot afford to sever and kisses Sarah Rogers goodnight before bed like it’s their last goodbye.

But he’s turning 18 in three months and maybe that gives him some hope because he accidentally lets a boy in too deep into his heart.

When Bucky first finds out about Steve’s… condition, it’s been three weeks into their friendship, and they’re in a coffee shop sharing a bagel sandwich after their last class for the day.

He’d said something funny and Steve had broken into peals of laughter, grabbing his chest and wheezing from uncontainable joy and for a moment, it was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

And then it was the worst.

He saw Steve collapse right in front of him and ten other people; saw someone call for an ambulance, one of the staff yelled at Bucky about something but he couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t compute anything at all.

He froze where he stood; watching Steve die before him.

The paramedics arrived, someone pointed at him, one of the paramedics asked him if he was a friend; he said, yes.

She asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”

He stuttered, “No. I - He. He’s my friend. But I don’t know what just happened to him. Is he - Is he going to be okay?”

She’d looked at him, first disappointed then sad. She said, “Your friend’s going to be okay. If you want, you can ride along with us.”

She probably thought Bucky was a bad friend, but she never said that. She showed him the band around Steve’s wrist - which he’d never seen Steve took off, much less asked what it meant; just assumed it was important and left it at that - and told him what it means.

She flipped Steve’s wallet open, pulled out a card and gave it Bucky. “You’re lucky we know him,” she said.

“Stevie’s a good boy. But he’s very shy, and he’s always kept to himself so, it’s very nice to know he’s been going around making friends.”

Two hours later, he’s still sitting in the waiting room with his hands clasped in front of him, watching two ants carry a bread crumb across the tile between his feet.

Someone sits next to him; a nurse under her unzipped hoodie she’s got on and when he looks up, she smiles at him.

“I heard you’re Steve’s friend.”

Bucky’s been so tensed for a long time that he chokes on his spit when he opens his mouth. She waits patiently for his cough to subside. Once he can, Bucky rubs his hands over his pants and says, “Sorry. Yeah. I - I’m his friend.” Then he panics, “They said he’s all right and told me to wait here. Is he - Is everything -,”

“Have you had anything to eat yet?” She interrupts him, “Or drink maybe?”

He looks at her then; really looks at her, and he shakes his head. Something about her is too familiar so when she says, “Come,” he went with her.

She brings him to the canteen and buys him a sandwich and bottled water. “Eat,” she says. “If you’re gonna stick around, then you’ll need the energy.”

And that’s how Bucky met Sarah Rogers.

Steve is tired most of the time, but when he isn’t, he’s the brightest ball of sunshine.

His joy made Bucky bloom like Cherry Blossom in Spring. Every single smile and laughter; if Bucky could collect them all in a cup and drink, he would. But even then, he doesn’t think he’d get enough of it.

He loves him.

First as a friend, then as a boy who’d like to possess Steve; keep him to himself; all that smile and happiness, just for Bucky and only Bucky and he would never let anyone take his Stevie from him.

But then, something happens.

He gets invited to Steve’s little birthday party, and he claps as Steve blows out the candles. Hoots the loudest, laughs with Steve’s mom and then at one point, he’s sitting by her side pulling tissues for her to wipe her tears.

The room down the hallway got its door locked with Steve inside it.

“Sorry,” Mrs Rogers sniffles. It’s the fifth time she’d said it and Bucky has had enough.

“Seriously,” he tells her. “Stop worrying about it, Mrs Rogers.”

She laughs while a tear runs down her cheek at the same time. “Oh, God,” she sobs. “You shouldn’t be seeing this - Nobody, should be seeing this.”

Bucky keeps his mouth shut and hands over another ply.

Later that night, lying in his bed in the dark, Bucky thinks about what had happened. About Mrs Rogers kiss to Steve’s forehead, and her harmless words; “You’re growing into a handsome man, darling. Someday, somewhere, you’re gonna break someone’s heart.”

She wasn’t wrong. Hell, Bucky sat there thinking: he’s already breaking mine, Mrs Roger.

But that wasn’t what Steve thought. Whatever he did, it made him very angry. “Stop putting your hopes in me,” he snapped.

His poor ma, stunned, asked, “What?”

“Your hopes, ma,” Steve hissed. “You know none of that would happen. I won’t make it out of school -,”

And right then was when Bucky saw a mother break her own heart.

Her hand came in a flash, connecting sharp against Steve’s face; the loud slap echoed and the second she realised what she had done, Sarah Rogers cupped her mouth with that same hand - shaking -, her eyes wide in horror and her heart -

Hours later, Bucky could still hear it shatter into a million pieces. He realises too, they never did cut the cake tonight.

The next day, he doesn’t see Steve in school. He calls his phone, and calls Mrs Rogers when he doesn’t pick up. Her line goes dead too.

She texts later. Saying Steve’s in the hospital again.

Is he going to be okay? - Bucky writes her.

Ten minutes later, his phone flashes with; I don’t know.

He’s not okay.

They’ve got tubes stuffed down his windpipe, bags of fluids going into his veins and he’s looking bloated in the face.

The doctors keep hushing to Mrs Rogers. They tell her things Bucky doesn't understand; big words, complicated medical stuff and Bucky’s not so smart in the brain. He gets by with B in science at the very best. So he fills the chair by Stevie’s side and holds his hand instead.

When Bucky’s ma was around, she used to take him and his sister to Sunday church. She bought for them a bible each and knitted covers out of wool; one blue, one pink for Bucky and his sister, respectively.

After she passed, Bucky gave up faith and his belief. He’s stopped praying at all.

But right now, with the sound of Stevie’s heart echoing in beeps around them, he holds his hand and whispers what he remembers.

“He needs a new set of lungs,” Mrs Rogers says.

Seeing her in the hospital without her uniform on is very jarring. Bucky stares at her fingers curled around a paper cup holding coffee like they held all the answers.

They told themselves that the chairs in Steve’s room got too hard for their spine, so they’re in the canteen for better cushioning.

Truth is, they couldn’t take the silence in there anymore. So they’re out here drowning their sorrow in the most crowded place in the hospital.

“You know, I’m very glad that he met you.”

Bucky looks up from her hand and meets her watery smile. She sniffles, “He knew he didn’t have a long time. So he walked alone. Never made any friends. I have the suspicion that he hates saying goodbye.”

Bucky’s throat aches so he swallows it down. Sarah Rogers lays her hand over Bucky’s and squeezes.

“Thank you,” she tells him. “For choosing my son.”

He knows then that she sees right through him.

“I love him,” he tells her truthfully; his heart too swollen with Steve to hide no longer.

She gives him another watery smile and pats his hand two short times, “I know.”

Bucky swallows the lump in his throat and says, “I never told him that.”

If; Bucky thinks.

If he could go back in time, he’d like to go back to the first day he met Steve and ask, “Would you go out on a date with me,” instead of offering friendship.

Or the first time he walked Steve out of the discharge suit so he could catch his frail hand, then his blue eyes and say, “Be my boyfriend Steve Rogers.”

Maybe a week before Steve’s birthday, when they were sitting in the park, with the late summer breeze caressing their skin and Steve had held his lips pressed the entire time.

They’d only known each other for two-and-a-half months then, but Bucky felt like he’d known Steve his entire lifetime. And he could tell that Steve was upset that evening.

He’d gotten off the phone with his mum that afternoon and back then Bucky didn’t know, but now, he could guess it was probably Mrs Rogers mentioning throwing him a birthday party.

If Bucky could go back to that evening, he wouldn’t just stop at making jokes for Steve to laugh at. He would take his hand in his and press his mouth to Steve’s cheek. He’d like to tell him, “You’re beautiful” and that, “You take my breath away, Stevie.”

He’d like to tell him in detail just how deeply he was in love with Steve. With the sound of birds chirping overhead and water lapping in the lake, he would like to have kissed the sorrow out of Steve’s lips.

But time travel is a fairy dream, and as it is for Bucky; he’s just another boy who’d missed his chance.

So he takes what he could get; he hoards minutes he could get with Stevie and treasures them dearly. Especially those without Sarah Rogers hovering by.

He tells him what he thinks; the weather, the new pair of shoes his nurse is wearing today, the little boy with a broken nose that reminded him of Steve and a helluva lot of ‘I wish’-es.

He tells him: “You taught me how to love selflessly.” Tells him: “I would have given anything to have you beside me, but now I just want you to stop hurting.”

#stucky #stevebucky #mine #thank you for requesting anon! i LOVED writing this #prompts

82 notes · View notes