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cafeacademia · 4 years ago

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Laundry Day

Fred Weasley x Reader (SMUT)

Summary: After you accidentally catch your best friend and roommate, Fred doing his laundry in just his boxers, you turn into a flustered mess, but it’s when you make the next clothing slip that either of you act on your feelings.

Warnings: Straight up smut!!! Oral (female receiving), sex, a bucket load of fluff, quite a bit of embarrassment and awkwardness at the beginning.

Word count: Approx 3500

Masterlist

Please read the drabble that sparked the rest of this story (it doesn’t make a huge amount of sense otherwise!)

A/N: Hello my loves! My god was this fun to write! I love some Freddie smut and I hope you enjoy it too! This was inspired by my lovely friend, Holly’s made up title ask, which turned into a drabble and is now followed by this full fic! Enjoy 💖

Fred was rather annoyed with himself. He’d been far too wrapped up in teasing you in your flustered state when he had been standing nearly naked in front of you, and yet he’d not taken a second to actually see if you felt the same way that he did. Albeit, was doing it mostly naked in front of your best friend a good idea? Fred thought, probably not.

But now, only a few hours later, Fred regretted it even more, because his poor roommate, his poor best friend couldn't even look at him without looking as if you were about to keel over in embarrassment.

And while Fred was annoyed with himself that he’d not done anything about months, years even of being completely and utterly in love with you, you on the other hand were reprimanding yourself in the other room over how you had blatantly drooled over the poor boy.

He probably thought you were creepy or weird. Or both. Both were definitely plausible, you thought as you climbed out of the shower, having taken one in the hopes of getting the embarrassing moment off your mind. Unfortunately for you though, it had only given your mind more time to replay and over exaggerate the interaction.

But as you dried yourself off and did your usual bathroom routine, you quickly realised that being so stuck in your own head had led you to a near similar situation that Fred had been in just mere hours ago. You were stuck in the bathroom with nothing but a small bath towel that barely covered you while you had forgotten your clothes. The worst part was you had walked into the bathroom naked while Fred had gone out for a little while and you just hoped to Merlin that he was still out of the apartment so you didn’t have to face him with embarrassment while being nearly naked.

Unlocking the door and opening it by just a slither, enough to see into the main room, you poked your head out for a second to survey and thankfully, to your relief, there was no Fred in sight and you let out the breath you had been holding on to as you pulled the door open fully and stepped out of the bathroom with the towel loosely wrapped around you.

“Alright there, love?” Fred’s voice came from behind you and your movements seized as you froze on the spot, eyes going wide. Shit. “Fred,” You practically squeaked his name out in shock before pausing, half turning towards him. Fred noticed you were still unable to look at him fully, as if meeting his eyes might vaporise you on the spot or turn you into a puddle.

If you hadn’t already felt rather exposed with just a towel on before, you felt as if you were completely naked and you swallowed thickly as he took a step closer to you. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like or want his attention, you craved Fred. You wanted him in every capacity possible, but this was not the way you had spent many nights and lonely showers and hours working imagining how it would go. And quite frankly, you were sure your cheeks were still as hot as they had been earlier that day when you had walked in on your best friend.

“That’s an awfully short towel, love.” Fred smirked and you managed a quick glance at his features before you shyly looked away again and you suddenly felt very aware of where the fabric fell against your skin. Did it hide you well enough? You supposed it was really a bit too late to be wondering that now, though.

“Sorry, I might’ve… Forgotten my clothes.” It came out quieter than you had meant it to and Fred could see how flustered you were. “I don’t mind.” Fred told you with a lopsided grin, using your own words on you. “Are you embarrassed, princess?” He questioned, taking another step closer and reached out, his fingers gently brushing the tip of your chin, lifting just enough to get you to meet his eyes. “There’s no reason to be, I promise.” Fred spoke softly, his grin dampening into a gentler smile, one that was reassuring. “Besides, I quite liked you seeing me earlier.” He added. “Can’t say I hadn’t thought about it before.”

“Thought about what?” You asked, your throat dry as you looked up at him, your eyes fixed on his now that he’d finally managed to get you to look at him. “Me seeing you… Like that?” You asked. “Well, sort of. I think about you a lot, sweetheart.” Fred replied, not really giving you a straight answer, but the answer he did give sent a shock through you, your stomach flipping in the most pleasant way and for a moment you just stared at him. “Do you think about me?” He asked, his fingers gently moving up from your chin, his thumb resting against your cheek, brushing your skin delicately with the pad of his thumb.

Of course you thought about Fred. Sometimes it felt like he was all you thought about. He was impossible not to think about, especially when he was the perfect mixture of charming gentleman and absolute rascal. But you supposed that was what attracted you so much to him, that and his tall stature, the way he looked at you sometimes making you weak at the knees. Merlin, you wanted him to absolutely ruin you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t ever done anything sexual yourself before, you had, but Fred and George had always had a running joke about your innocence, that you just seemed too pure, too much like a sweet princess with the way you always became so shy and giggly and flustered whenever they teased and joked around with you, especially Fred.

“Mhm.” You could only hum, your eyes looking away from him for a moment as you tried to gather yourself a bit more. “Is that so, princess?” Fred chuckled softly, watching you tug your lip lightly between your teeth and he almost groaned, already very riled up from earlier in the day.

“I do, I think about you all the time, Freddie.” You finally got yourself together, eyes doe like and sweet as you looked up at him. Fred smiled, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he leaned in a little closer, his heart leaping when you leaned a little into him too, because besides from friendly hugs and leaning on one another, you’d never had much close contact with Fred and he wanted to hold you so badly. “Can I kiss you, love?” Fred asked, speaking so softly that it was barely above a whisper, his words brushing against you as he spoke and you nearly melted, nearly combusted because Fred Weasley had just asked you those words.

“Please, Freddie.” And your words were all he needed to close the gap between you and capture your lips with his in a loving, gentle kiss. He was slow at first, lips indulging in every feeling it sent through him to have your lips moving gently against his. Fred felt you press yourself up against his chest and his heart fluttered, unable to stop himself from smiling into the kiss as he his hands wandered, softly tracing over your skin and resting at your hip as he cradled your head with his other hand.

And as your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers dipping into his thick ginger hair, Fred groaned against you, deepening the kiss, his tongue finding yours. You felt warmth rush through you, the kiss pushing every thought, every lingering worry out of your head. Fred was not overconfident with his kiss, instead, he was gentle but still charming and you could just imagine the smile he was wearing as your lips moved against his, Fred’s tongue gently brushing yours.

Parting, Fred having kissed you breathless, you sighed softly as you pulled away. Your towel though, was forgotten and with your hands having rested over Fred’s shoulders, his chest no longer there to hold it up, the fabric fell into a pile on the floor. You glanced down, for a second to see it below you, shyly looking back up at Fred, who was fixed on you with a stunned look in his eyes. He made it quite clear, just from the way he was looking at you, keeping his eyes on yours that he wouldn’t look at your body unless you wanted him to.

But part of you wanted him to look, you wanted him to see you and your gaze softened from surprise to something almost lustful. “You can look, Freddie.” You whispered the words, Fred taking you permission, his lips parting as he finally looked down to admire you, his eyes wandering your figure as you stood in front of him. “You’re gorgeous, princess.” Fred complimented, his words making you smile shyly as he tentatively reached out for you, giving you ample time to tell him to stop. But you didn’t and you moved forwards into his touch, letting his fingers meet your bare skin, his fingertips gently brushing against your collarbone and Fred’s breath hitched in his throat for a moment as he took you all in, nothing but admiration and pure, sweet love in his eyes.

He looked at you as if you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, his eyes softened, he looked almost awestruck at the sight of you and his eyes slowly drew across you, unsure of where to look first. “I want you, love.” Fred spoke the words, eyes looking up to yours, waiting for permission. He was well and truly in love, he always had been, but seeing you like this, nude with that sweet, shy smile of his, he felt like he was really seeing you. Vulnerable, beautiful and Fred wanted to know if he could have you for himself like he had always dreamed. “Then take me, Fred.” The words passed your lips, Fred’s admission going straight to your belly, a little shiver of anticipation, of excitement rushed through you.

With your permission, Fred didn’t spare a moment longer, his hands gently smoothing over your skin to grip your hips as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Fred was in no rush as he kissed you, his fingers trailing upwards, thumbs gently brushing over your hardened nipples and he groaned as you moaned softly into the kiss at his actions.

“Let me take care of you.” He mumbled it softly against your lips, his warm touch gripping your sides and gliding lower until he reached the curve of your ass, squeezing gently. Moving lower still, Fred leaned down a little to pick you up and pull you into his arms, his eyes fixated on you as he carried you carefully to your bedroom and lay you down on the bed.

Beginning to remove his own clothing, Fred caught the way you looked at him the way you had earlier, lost in your own little dreamy haze as your gaze trailed over his bare torso as he let his shirt slip off his arms and fall to the floor. And as he pushed his trousers off, his boxers going with them, Fred was glad he caught the way you gently bit your lip at the sight of him, your reaction going straight to his hardened cock.

“Can I taste you, please princess?” Fred asked, gently pushing your legs upwards. “Please Freddie.” You nodded, lips parted as you let out a little breathy moan as he parted your legs, kneeling down between them. He held your gaze for a moment longer as he dipped low, close to your aching core as he parted your lips with his thumbs, watching as you gasped at his warm, gentle touch.

Swiping his thumb over your clit tentatively, he watched your reaction to the small touch and it made his length twitch as you watched him with pleading eyes. Finally, Fred leaned in, his thumbs exposing your bud for him as he pressed his tongue against you and began to work you up. “Oh fuck, Fred.” You whined out at the contact, your hand reaching down to hold him there, your fingers sliding into his hair as Fred circled your clit, building up his intensity as he played with you.

His gentle movements became a little faster and within moments Fred had you writhing and moaning at his touch. His tongue flicked against you and you shyly cast a glance down to him to see Fred looking up at you with hooded eyes, savouring every second of pleasuring you. “Is it good, princess? Am I making you feel good?” Fred asked, his thumb taking over and circling your clit as he spoke to you, making you whine at the difference in contact. “Freddie, god, you’re so good, please don’t stop.” You whined, too caught up in pleasure to worry about being shy with your words.

Smirking, Fred leaned back in, taking your soft bud between his lips and gently sucking, flicking his tongue over you. Your soft moans, the way you panted when he did something to make your knees quiver, it felt as if Fred could cum just at the sight of you blissed out with pleasure under his touch. Releasing you, he slid his tongue over you and flicked his tongue over your clit relentlessly, watching as your hands gripped the sheets in reaction.

Fred worked you up and up, so high that you lost yourself in the pleasure he was giving you. Looking up to watch you as you climbed, now teetering on the edge of your orgasm, Fred loved the way you looked like this, spread out for him and falling apart from his teasing, from his soft touches.

“Are you going to let go for me, princess?” Fred asked, his hot breath against your aching core before pulling you clit back between his lips and flicking his tongue quickly against you. “Yes Freddie, please.” You whined it out, panting and moaning as he brought you to the edge and saw you over into your euphoria, the orgasm pouring through you, trickling like warm honey through your senses as you came undone beneath his gentle touch. His name was a cry on your lips, eyes teary as the haze clouded over you, every muscle, every sense relaxing as you came down from your climb, Fred gently bringing you back down with soft touches.

It was the most beautiful thing he’d seen, watching you, his best friend orgasm from his touch. It was better than he had dreamed and he hoped as he slowly climbed up the bed, holding himself above you, capturing your lips with his for a slow kiss, that taking you, making you his would be as amazing as he had imagined. Fred couldn’t deny, he’d had vivid dreams about you, waking up in a flustered, panting state with beads of sweat on his forehead, George thinking he’d had a nightmare, when in reality it was the exact opposite. The sound of your moans, fabricated in his mind, he could have only imagined how you sounded when he teased you, but now that Fred had heard you, now that he’d seen the way you crumbled for him, he knew he’d never get enough of you.

“Make me yours, Freddie.” The words were sweet and almost melodic as you hummed them out in your gentle voice. The haze seemed to settle over Fred too, his eyes unable to leave yours, unable to look away, you were just so perfect to him and Fred was unsure he even deserved someone as absolutely wonderful as you, but he was grateful that you wanted him, that you needed him, because you were all he really needed too.

“I’ll make you mine, sweetheart.” He said it lovingly as he pressed hot, open mouthed kisses in a trail against the warmth of your neck. “My princess.” He hummed the words out, heavy in his throat but coming out as a light whisper, one that made you moan his name to him and Fred hoped he could always hear the way you said his name in the heavenly way that you did.

Gently, his length pressed against your core, allowing himself to slide through your folds, pressing against your sensitive clit and you gasped at the contact, lips parted and eyes sliding closed and Fred watched as your lashes fluttered against your skin so beautifully. Guiding himself into your entrance, your moans met the air together in a beautiful symphony, your eyes opening to look up at the man above you as he slowly pushed in until he was in as far as he could go. He met your eyes, his expression swimming with complete awe, the feeling was like no other, no one else felt as perfect as this and Fred swore on the spot that perhaps you were always meant to be.

After a moment, Fred began to move, his thrusts gentle and soft at first while you relaxed around his size. Leaning in, Fred left tender kisses against your skin, worshipping you as he pulled out nearly to the tip and allowed himself to sink back into you slowly, his head tipping back as he let out a low moan at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. “You’re so perfect, sweetheart.” He said the words only semi coherently as he began to move a little faster his thrusts slowly speeding up. “So perfect, you take me perfectly.” He mumbled, the words falling from his lips, his eyes closing as his hips met yours with a gentle slap of your skin against his, your moans filling his ears.

“Freddie,” You gasped his name out, his eyes opening at your voice to look you in the eyes. “I need you.” The words were desperate, but Fred knew what you needed. “I’m here, princess, I’ve got you.” Fred spoke softly, his hands pressing yours against the mattress, your fingers intertwining as he thrust heavily into you, pulling a whine from you as he positioned himself to best reach the spot that made you gasp. “Oh god, Freddie.” You gasped, closing your eyes for a moment as you basked in the pleasure of his thrusts, gentle but firm as he sped up, dragging moan after moan out of you with each stroke.

“Come on, darling, can you cum for me again?” Fred asked, working you up with his gentle words, contrasting so heavily with the way he was edging you closer, his length stroking you faster towards your release. “Please, yes Freddie.” You were lost in your own haze, barely able to string a sentence together as he worked you closer and closer, his thrusts speeding up more and more.

Fred held in his own orgasm as he drew closer, wanting to see the look of euphoria wash through you again, just once more for him and as he watched you, your hands gripping him tightly your moan higher pitched as you reached your peak and your orgasm rushed through you in a heavy warmth, your walls fluttering around Fred as you arched your back into him. He was sure he’d never see a more beautiful sight than you coming undone beneath him. “That’s it, sweetheart, there you go.” He whispered, your orgasm sending shockwaves through him as it brought Fred his own release, the feeling of you squeezing him, pulsing around his as you moaned his name out, fingers clinging onto him as you came down.

Looking into your eyes as he followed you, he saw the stars in your eyes, you looked at him as if he was everything to you, because to you, he was and for Fred, you were everything to him too. His thrusts stuttered as he came and his head tilted back, letting out low grunts as he worked himself through his orgasm, your gentle touch reaching up to cradle his face as he came down slowly, savouring every feeling, every moment spent with you.

You lay your head on Fred’s chest as you both came down from your orgasms, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his heart beat gentle as he calmed, his soft touch trailed over your delicate skin. “Please stay with me, Freddie.” You broke the silence and Fred clocked the worry in your voice, the worry that told him this all might have been a one time experience. But as he gently rolled over onto his side and reached up, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek, Fred smiled sweetly to you. “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, sweetheart.” He said, his smile growing as he watched you gave him a shy little giddy grin at his response.

“I love you, my sweet princess.” Fred hummed the words out softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I love you too, Freddie.”

And for once, you were both thankful for it being a laundry day.

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7 @paintballkid711 @thesewaywardskies @coldlilheart @victorialynn7 @pandaxnienke @megantje123 @loving-life-my-way @chaotic-fae-queen @theweasleyslut @amourtentiaa

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred x y/n #the weasley twins #weasley twins #weasley twin imagine #weasley twin fanfic #weasley twins imagine #harry potter #fred weasley smut #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine

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onelovewonderwoman · 4 years ago

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first class || charles xavier x reader

i’ve been on an x-men binge and fell into a hole of james mcavoy and charles xavier again, so here we are. i haven’t written fics in a long time, so i tried to again. i’m uncreative so like the title is just the first movie because of the fact that it’s set during that time. kind of like self insert cause there’s a few bits and pieces where there’s canonical plot and interactions, so disclaimer for that. anyways, hope you guys enjoy! ps also don’t have enough energy to find a fitting gif so maybe i’ll find one later maybe i won’t. we’ll see

words: 5.8k

warnings: not proofread (i spent three days on this so i don’t have the energy anymore haha), writing lacks emotional depth, drug use and mentions, intent of murder, thoughts of (murder, rape, suicide, etc.), poorly written two paragraphs about kissing, angst, we ignore moira and charles’ romance cause... duh, it’s x reader and it’s too difficult for me to work around it rn a haha

masterlist

The rooms were always the same. They were dark, illuminated only by the dimmest of lights emanating from the occasional lava lamp or fairy lights. Fairy - ironic word for such situations, such rooms. Filled so heavily with smoke it made it hard to breathe, let alone see. And the floors; the floors always felt different.

In hindsight, it was probably the one thing that had her realizing the rooms were never actually the same. Sure, they had the same smell, the same overcrowdedness and moving bodies, the same darkness, even the same taste, but the floors testified to the difference each room held.

Sometimes, when the world would freeze and all the people around her became nothing but a mesh of warm bodies, she could hear the floor creak under her feet with every step she took. There she was - the house right down the street from her.

Other times, the floors felt sticky under her shoes. She assumed it was tequila. There were always too many bottles around to count, surely there would be spills. Or, some poor guy could have pissed himself like that one time. When her shoes sounded like velcro as she walked across the floor, she was at the house all the way across town.

In any case, she felt the same ankle up. One of her favourite parts had to be the way the music always abused her ears - so high, it made her feel lightheaded. More so than she already had been both. Sex was not nearly regular enough for her to compare, but she knew what she would feel every time the music was loud enough to make her head buzz and throb with a vengeance was more erotic than anything anyone could ever do to her.

The place could change but the scene never really did. Down to the people - she knew this for sure. She knew every beating heart around her like they were her own. She never only felt it there, but in her head as well. Even as it buzzed, she felt it. Sometimes it tore at her skull as if trying to escape - ironic.

Now, why did the scene change one evening in 1962? She told herself it was fate, but it had merely been wishful thinking when she knew why. How did she know? She knew the man sitting next to her on the worn down couch, nearly entirely unconscious and reeking of weed and vodka, knew the girl across the house, the girl across the house knew the man next to her and that - so on and so forth - meant she knew all three of them, even though they didn’t know her. So, for two new men to walk into the house, their eyes focused - focused on her - changed the scene entirely.

Now, the music became nothing more than an assault on her ears; the lights became too bright at the same time as the dark became too dark; the air became heavier than usual; and she sobered up at the feeling of something - someone - in her head. Then, it all caved in. It was as overwhelming as it always was, but she was used to it enough to handle it for a little while, at least whilst remnants of her high remained. She couldn’t say the same for the shorter of the two men she saw keel over at the pressure.

He got over it pretty quick, from what she could tell. “Charles Xavier,” he introduced himself as, “This is my colleague, Erik Lensherr.”

A quick trip from the couch to the door had her standing on the lawn of the house of the night with the two men. Crickets could be heard fighting against the sound of the music blaring from the house as she swayed on her feet, making wet sounds in the grass from earlier rain. Charles stood not much taller than her, charm emanating from him and the way his piercing blue eyes seemed to smile despite his furrowed brows and mouth set in a straight line as he stared at her, waiting for a response with his hands tucked into his coat pockets. Erik stood taller, stoic and calculating.

“And?” She crossed her arms across her chest, both in discomfort and the fact that the chilly night air had begun to bite at her skin, her long sleeve doing nothing to help. “I should care why?”

If the incident earlier wasn’t enough, the way the both of them looked at her was enough for her to know why. “What’s your name?” Charles asked, having her notice then the English accent on his tongue.

The second she gave it to him, he smiled - almost sympathetically - at her and hummed, “You have an incredibly busy mind, Y/N.”

“And you have an incredibly nosy one, Charles.” That had Erik letting out a chuckle, one that felt like approval to her ears.

Never in a million years would she dare say yes to anything of the sort the two men proposed to her that night. A team of mutants; not necessarily that she thought it was absurd or a horrible idea - no. It made sense, not factoring in their current climate, to have a team of mutants fighting against the evils of the world. The horrible idea was to have her join. No, she wanted to tell them, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking too,” Erik agreed with her, catching both herself and Charles off guard, “We’ll be going then.”

He offered her his hand. She didn’t know how long she stood there staring at his outstretched arm. Sometimes her high slowed time - it could have been five seconds or five minutes. When she finally looked away from his hand, up at him, she saw he stood unwavered and patient.

“You don’t have to, you know.” Her eyes shot to Charles as he broke the silence. He shook his head, brows still furrowed and mouth set in a straight line. “You’re under no obligation.”

For Charles to know, she understood. He had just been in her mind long enough to know that most of it wasn’t even hers. For Erik to know and offer her his hand made her wonder just how desperate he was to assemble the team - for whatever reason that she was about to find out in a moment.

“We leave now.” Was all he said after he tore his hand from hers.

An hour hasn’t even passed when she found herself on a plane with the two men, mind still buzzing but this time not with a high. This time, with an overwhelming anger and anticipation. The way Erik didn’t make eye contact with her and Charles sent worried glances her way throughout their trip to their “base” was enough to tell her that they knew she had already been briefed on what was happening - the reason behind their assembling of a team. Rather, she knew specifically of the personal motive behind it.

All it made her heart feel like it was beating a mile a minute. It pounded against her chest so hard she was sure at least one of them could hear it. So badly did she want to hide out in the plane’s bathroom and take something to stop the pain, but it was off the table. For now.

Soon enough the flight ended, and she came to find out their “base” was a covert CIA facility where they placed the other mutants they rounded up before her. She just as quickly met and said goodbye to Moira MacTaggert, a CIA officer working with Charles and Erik to stop Shaw. His name alone sent sparks of rage flowing through her veins.

She was left with the group when the three went off that night. There, she came face to face with Raven, Sean, Alex, Hank, Darwin, and Angel - or, Mystique, Banshee, and Havok. Darwin and Angel were “self explanatory”, considering they were already nicknames and described their powers fairly well. Hank was just… Hank.

Her turn came around quickly, once everyone settled down from Alex’s show of his “gift”, when all heads turned to her, sitting at the end of the couch. Raven smiled at her - she liked her, she was sweet - “What about you? What’s your power?”

“I’m,” She paused for a moment, the eyes on her making her anxious and curl into herself hoping, praying, another mutant wouldn’t touch her. “I can move things. With my mind.” She gave a tight smile to Raven and nodded her head, as if to reassure herself. “I can move things with my mind.”

Raven’s smile only widened, excited by either the prospect of her being able to move things with her mind or the opportunity to give her an alias. She assumed it was the latter. She excused herself to the washroom just as Raven asked the group what they thought. “We’ll have one for you once you get back! Promise!” Raven called after her.

Body filled with anticipation, she nearly ran to the washroom, willing the door closed behind her after she entered. It was small, but clean - CIA property after all.

She tried. She really did. Albeit, making contact with a mutant was always the worst; Erik especially. The trauma, the pain, the thoughts. All them clawed at her brain, as though they were tearing through it layer by layer until nothing but them remained within her skull.

Nothing could stop her from taking out the small baggy in her back pocket and tearing it open. Nothing could stop her from taking it, only to feel a rush flow through her. It would take a bit, but soon enough she would stop feeling them gnawing on her very existence. Soon, numbness would wash over her and she could just be no one.

She guessed she was in the washroom for about half an hour. Staring at her reflection, at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything, but when she made her way back to the room, she found it in disarray. Music was blasting from the radio, chairs flipped over, Raven on top of the couch dancing as Hank hung from the ceiling light, the rest of the group messing around with their powers. She couldn’t tell if they were experiencing some high of their own or just happened to have gotten their hands on some alcohol.

“What are you doing? Who destroyed the statue?” Moira’s voice broke her out of the trance she was in watching the group. Slowly, she turned her head to see her, Charles, and Erik walking over as everyone else froze. Moira was angry, that much anyone could tell, but the two men were unreadable.

Hank was the first one to reply back, jumping down the ceiling, panicked, “It was Alex.”

“No. Havok.” Raven seemed to stay unfazed, still standing on the couch with a wide smile on her face. “We have to call him Havok. That's his name now…”

Raven’s words melted away from her. Her focus wasn’t elsewhere; it was simply nowhere at all. She stared at everyone in the room, yet no one at all. So caught up in nothing she didn’t notice Charles himself staring at her until Erik uttered something under his breath and walked away with Moira following, brows furrowed in what looked to be confusion. Just as she caught his eye, he looked away.

Directed at Raven, he spoke firmly, “I expect more from you.”

Not long after, they had gotten word that Shaw would be in Russia, and so she was left with the group of mutants when the three left alongside the CIA to get their hands on him. Before, it would have made her wonder what purpose the group of mutants really served if they didn’t want them there to help. Now, after the incident, she understood why.

By no means were any of them prepared for such a task. She couldn’t claim to be either. She only agreed because she knew a part within her would hate her for not coming and at the very least trying to help.

Just when she thought she and the solemn group couldn’t be any more of a liability, she was proven wrong. Because now Sebastian Shaw stood in front of them, smug and irritating as ever, after having his lackey drop an unsuspecting CIA to his death in front of all of them and cornering them.

“Good evening. My name's Sebastian Shaw, and I'm not here to hurt you.” She was sure she wasn’t the only one assuming he had taken out every single CIA operative in the facility to make it this far; a thought that filled her being with even more dread than she was already feeling at the sight of him. “My friends, there's a revolution coming. When mankind discovers who we are, what we can do, each of us will face a choice. Be enslaved or rise up to rule. Choose freely, but know that if you are not with us, then by definition, you are against us. So, you can stay and fight for the people who hate and fear you. Or you can join me, and love like kings and queens.”

They all watched, both shocked and betrayed when Angel took the hand Shaw outstretched, standing by his side even when he murdered Darwin in his attempt to stop him with Alex. She didn’t see it - she turned away the second Shaw released the energy he’d taken from Alex into Darwin. She heard it, though. The explosion. When she turned back, as Shaw, Angel, and the men he had brought with him retreated, she saw nothing. There was no sign of Darwin; not even a speck of dust.

Suddenly, her chest tightened and the clawing came back.

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

The person who happened to almost send them home also happened to be the one who provided them a new place to train their powers for the fight with Shaw. Charles was entirely serious and extremely close to sending them all home; “They’re just kids.” But Erik made it clear to him that they couldn’t be anymore, not after Shaw.

Charles lived, alongside Raven, in a massive mansion that had been entirely too big for her to take in, but it provided the perfect space for them to train their powers. Each of them were assigned rooms by Charles personally that day.

He took the liberty of walking them each there. She didn’t know if it was just her or a Charles thing, but he stayed quiet. Unusual for a man that had so much to say. But then again, with what they’ve already been through, she couldn’t imagine he was feeling very chatty. She certainly wouldn’t have been in his situation. Granted, she would be feeling the same way now, but in her predicament by this point, she wouldn’t mind someone else’s verbal company.

The second he guided her through the bedroom

door, she began to take in the sheer size of the room, feeling bigger than life itself in the way that she was feeling. The bed was even better; huge and looked as though the softness of it would swallow her into a warm hug. Her first instinct would have been to jump right onto it, but the fact that Charles ceased to leave and instead remained planted there, giving her a look she couldn’t make out once she turned to face him, made her fight against her urges.

She opened her mouth in an attempt to utter an “Are you alright?” but never got the chance. Instead, Charles spoke as soon as her mouth opened, slowly, as if to make sure she understood every word he was saying like she had been incapable of doing so before, “Training starts tonight, but I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.”

With her brows furrowed in confusion, she nodded, and Charles began to walk away. He stopped by the frame of the door, back to her, and spoke again, “Try and get some rest.”

With that, he shut the door behind him. Now, she was left in the room alone, tiredness washing over her. Awaiting the next day, she decided to fall into the cloud that was the bed and fall asleep while she could.

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

The next morning was when Charles asked to see her - by Raven. The young woman led her over to a room, an odd dome shaped one, where Charles stood waiting. He wasn’t the same as the night before - uncomfortable, was the only way she knew to describe it - welcoming and encouraging.

“We’ve got plenty of work to do,” Charles spoke, hands in his pockets, as she entered and Raven excused herself elsewhere. Looking around, she could see evidence that training had started last night, namely Alex’s. Dark scuff marks were streaked across walls of the dome on the end farthest from them and small balls of fluff on the floor remained, assumingly left behind in the midst of a quick clean up of training dummies that had been torn open.

Despite the mess, several other objects were placed across the floor. All ranged from light to heavy. Chairs, weights - it looked to be anything he could have been capable of carrying in with the help of the others.

She stopped in front of him. “What’s this?”

The man’s smile widened before he started, rather loudly at that. “Well.” He moved towards the objects then spun around to face her, arms outstretched. “This is the beginning of your training.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the man unimpressed. “You want me to move this stuff around?”

“You’re not just moving stuff around.” Charles shook his head, arms dropping to his sides as he declared. “You don’t need to move everything here. I only need to see how much you can handle.” His head tilted as he looked at her, blue eyes meeting her own as his expression retreated to one of curiosity. “And how you handle it.”

She didn’t think the professor was aware of the innuendo within the situation, so she let it go despite the sweet stomach dropping feeling that came over her. Instead, she shrugged. “Then what?”

“Then,” Charles hesitated for a moment, “Erik was able to move a satellite dish. If it happens to be possible-”

“A satellite dish?” She laughed incredulously, “You can be serious.”

Charles nodded towards her, challenging her statements as he took a few steps forward. “And what is it that’s making you believe you’re incapable of doing anything similar?”

“Look.” She shook her head, looking directly at him when she said, “I can move the average household item, shut a door and maybe, just maybe, bust it down, but I couldn’t push your couch across the room, let alone move a fu- a satellite dish.”

Charles’ brows furrowed. “And that’s what you believe?”

She hummed. “That’s what I know.”

“Well,” he sighed, disappointment written across his face that sent her into a spiral, “There’s not much we can do if you don’t believe you can better yourself, is there?”

The second he walked past her was when it felt as though ice water had been spilt onto her. A mixture of confusion and gloom washed over her before she turned to see Charles’ back, still moving towards the door. “What?”

He stopped in his tracks at her exclamation, waiting several moments as if contemplating before he turned back to her. Carefully, he asked, “Why do you take them?”

She shook her head, looking almost offended. “How did you-”

“Your mind,” Charles confirmed, “It gets quieter.”

The offence on her face never ceased, but the uncomfortable mixture of feelings she was overwhelmed with had her shrug in response to his question. Charles only nodded and gave her a tight smile before turning back.

She closed her eyes, resigning herself with huff. She could go back to the life she had come to know and hate, or she could take the second chance he was giving her even if it did include the prospect of some suffering.

“I don’t take them for fun.” The sound of her voice made Charles stop again. This time, he waited. “When I touch a person I don’t just take every experience. I take every memory.”

He turned around to face her once more and gave her nod, signalling her to continue. She breathed in and out. “I see and I feel everything that’s happened to them. That’s a lot and it’s enough, but that’s not why I-”

She cut herself off, feeling herself choke on the words before shaking her head and persisting herself on despite Charles’ look of concern. “I take them because, when I take their memories, I take all of their thoughts too. Every one. So every thought of murder, or rape, or suicide, or any fucked up thing, keeps tearing me apart from the inside out.”

Charles nodded, walking closer to her, choosing his words carefully as he spoke, sympathy written deep in his soft voice, “And they scare you.”

She shook her head. Looking away from him for a moment, she willed away tears she felt gathering. She turned back to him. “The thought of acting on them scares me.”

Although slightly taken aback by the revelation, Charles holds his composure. He nodded before opening his mouth to respond, walking closer as he began.

The only reaction he got was her taking a step back, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not a bad person.” Charles assumed she didn’t want him touching her - considering she took away every thought. “I’m always all these people at once - I don’t even know who I am.”

“Then we will figure it out.” Charles tilted his head, making sure her eyes met his when she attempted to look away. His voice was soft and reassuring to her ears, even if she didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “You aren’t alone, Y/N.”

As it turns, the drugs were having a large effect on her ability to use her powers - the next few days told her as much. By no means was she capable of moving a satellite dish, but she had been able to take her powers to lengths she never thought she could have been able to.

Most of it was due to Charles - he’d spent most of the next few days with her, pushing her, sometimes to the point where she’d snap at him. She always calmed, though, and Charles always remained coolheaded.

Still, they grew closer. Or at least she grew closer to him. She couldn’t tell if the praise, the laughs, the banter, and the willingness to come back together after a fight only meant something to her. She hoped it did - because why else wouldn’t he just give up on her? All that time spent on advancing her powers to defeat Shaw, and he still talked about helping her as though their relationship would continue past this mission.

Part of her wanted to touch him so she could just know. Even if he hadn’t taken such a liking to her as she had him, at the very least try to understand him in his entirety and make a space for herself in his life. Then, another part of her was horrified at what she would find in there.

For the time being, there wasn’t much opportunity to dwell on it. The day they would head out was coming soon, and Erik suggested the group get a good night’s rest. They would all need it.

With her luck, she didn’t know why she thought that sleep would come easy that night. Whether it was due to adrenaline, anxiety, or anything else, didn’t matter. Because whatever was keeping her up had her pacing the hallways of Charles’ estate that night.

She wasn’t looking for it, but instead happened upon a conversation.

“… no difference. Shaw’s declared war on mankind. On all of us. He has to be stopped.” She heard Charles’ voice through a door as she passed by. Although knowing that he could probably make out the sound of her mind from a mile away, she still stopped by it. She grew even more curious when she heard Erik’s voice.

“I'm not gonna stop Shaw. I'm gonna kill him. Do you have it in you to allow that?” A moment of silence passed and she shifted on her feet. It made the floor creek. She shut her eyes and bit her lip, nervous, expecting to hear the sound of one of their footsteps coming to open the door and catch her eavesdropping. Whether they heard or not, she didn’t know as Erik continued on, “You've known all along why I was here, Charles. But things have changed. What started as a covert mission, tomorrow mankind will know that mutants exist. Shaw, us, they won't differentiate. They'll fear us. And that fear will turn to hatred.”

“Not if we stop a war,” Charles’ voice wavered on a line of urgency and assurance, “Not if we can prevent Shaw. Not if we risk our lives doing so.”

Charles very well could have been doing nothing but reassuring Erik with his words, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually trying to reassure himself. As if the world wouldn’t either discard or abuse them once they’ve served their purpose of their betterment.

“Will they do the same for us?”

“We have it in us to be the better men.”

“We already are.” Erik’s voice quickly turned from calm to urgent when he next spoke. “We're the next stage of human evolution. You said it yourself!”

“No, no!” She heard Charles attempt to cut Erik off before he sighed. She could practically hear the disappointment in it, although she couldn’t say she felt the same. He only let Erik continue.

“Are you really so naive as to think that they won't battle their own extinction?” She heard him pause. “Or is it arrogance?”

“I’m sorry?” As if Charles had misheard him.

She shifted on her feet once more as their voices became more hushed, despite the feeling coming from the room becoming more hostile than calm. This time, she was more careful. Nothing made a sound below her feet when she moved closer to the door, pressing her ear against it, as well as her left palm for support.

“After tomorrow, they're gonna turn us. But you're blind to it, because you believe they're all like Moira.”

“And you believe they're all like Shaw.” Came Charles’ immediate response. Calmly, she heard him continue, “Listen to me very carefully my friend. Killing Shaw will not bring you peace.”

Erik’s voice never wavered when he told Charles, “Peace was never an option.”

Footsteps came far too fast for her to move away from the door. In a split second, she found herself leaning against the door to crashing into Erik’s chest when he pulled the door open. For a moment, Erik stood staring down at her, watching her attempt to recompose herself and attempt to apologize. She didn’t get a word out before he moved past her and walked away.

She watched his form retreat before she turned back to the room. Standing in the doorway, she saw Charles sitting in the chair facing away from her. With his eyes closed and fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, “You realize I can hear your mind from across this house?”

She took a step in, almost reluctantly. She didn’t imagine Charles would be content with anything she had to say, but maybe she could make him understand. “Erik’s right, you know.”

Her words had Charles’ eyes snap open. He got out the chair, setting down the drink he was nursing on the table next to him, before he turned to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Peace isn’t an option ‘cause we’re never gonna get peace.” She shook her head, desperation in both her voice and eyes as she stared into his. “Erik thinks they’re gonna turn on us. They might not, but it doesn’t mean any of us will get any peace. They won’t all be like Shaw, they won’t all be like Moira, but most of them - most of them will just be human. They’ll fear us and they’ll judge us. It doesn’t matter how harmless we are or not.”

She watched as Charles took a step forward, his head tilting to the side, expression unreadable as his voice remained calm. “You can’t be serious.” It was a statement - a wrong one.

“Shaw needs to die,” She spoke with assurance. She felt her eyes fill with tears, Charles watching her suck in a breath and release as he began to walk closer to her, before she spoke in a whisper, no longer trusting her voice, “Shaw needs to die for what he did to us. We’re going to kill him, Charles.”

They’re faces we’re merely inches apart, chilling her to the bone as he looked at her. What she thought he would never do is what he tried the second he began to raise his hand, speaking quickly to her when he asked, “Us?”

His hand almost cupped her cheek when she turned her head away from it. Immediately, his hand froze. Charles watched her profile as more tears welled up in her eyes and her lips began to tremble. Voice weak and tearful, staring away from him, she pleaded, “Please don’t confuse me. I can’t-”

“I know you feel it,” Charles’ other hand came up to guide her face back to him despite her, whispering carefully, “But it is not your cross to bear.”

His hand was warm against her cheek. Comforting - enough to make her mind go blank. Wishful thinking, of course, because soon the clawing in her head would come back with a vengeance at having a man such as Charles touch her. For now, though, he felt safe. Stable. Enough so that she could close her eyes for a moment and let the tears fall as he leaned down to her and let his forehead press against hers.

“You can’t help but feel his pain,” She felt his breath against her lips as he spoke, his voice the same soft and soothing as she’s known it to be, “But you can decide what you do with it.”

She shook her head gently and pulled away, but still letting Charles’ hand rest against her cheek. “It’s not just-” she whispered to him, mouth feeling dry as her eyes avoided his, trying to piece her thoughts together. His hand slid down to the base of her neck, guiding her eyes to his. She licked her lips before she swallowed. “I barely knew Darwin, but he killed him right in front of us. And it was cruel and scary and I couldn’t even make myself look at it when it happened.”

“I know.” Charles brought his other hand up to brush away slow falling tears she hadn’t even known began to escape. He voiced nothing but concern, letting her continue as if he knew what she was going to say next.

Her hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, not to pull his hands away from her, but to simply hold onto them. Almost as if they were an anchor to make up for the tears she now felt were falling faster down her face as she realized. “For the first time, I think I want something, I feel this anger and fear, because of my head. I saw it first and I felt it first. It’s mine, and now I have a real responsibility to take care of it.”

“Not with murder.” Her hands tightened around his wrists as he brought her face closer to his own. A frown on his face as he desperately told her, “I meant it when I told you that we would figure this out together. You told me you were never your own person, that you don’t even know yourself. We were - we are - going to bring you into existence. I beg you, Y/N, don’t let yourself be brought into this world as a murderer.”

His words, as beautiful as they were, only half registered within her brain. All she found herself focusing on then was how close he was. She would think back later and come to realize that it was because the only thing making her tears stop and giving her the will not to commit a murder was the prospect of approval she would get from a man like him. From someone who could never understand her struggle, someone who never tried to or tried to make her feel as though there was some way out. From someone who wanted to build on it and show her the strength she could find within it.

Realistically, she knew he would have a few words for her if she ever outwardly admitted to him that she used approval as a means for bettering herself, but it was the best she could do at the time being.

Charles’ brows furrowed as he watched her face, spaced out and regarding him with an expression not even he could read. Somewhere deep down, though, he knew he had gotten through to her. His lips curled up slightly, speaking lowly with amusement evident in his voice, “Now where did you go?”

Her eyes shot from his lips to his eyes once more. As quick as they made eye contact, she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Lips soft, she kissed him carefully, one hand moving to cup his face. Only in the last few moments did he respond to it by kissing back.

She pulled away, looking at him nervously and letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in. Her mouth was dry again. “I’m sorry-”

She was cut off by Charles’ lips on hers once more. She kissed back instantly, sighing into the kiss in content. Feeling Charles smirk against her lips and deepen the kiss, she put both hands behind his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He took her lower lip between his teeth, pulling slightly as he let his hands trail down her body to her waist, pulling her to make sure there wasn’t the slightest gap between their bodies.

Their lips broke apart, but only long enough to allow for a quick breath. Charles pushed his lips back into hers as her hands snaked down to the collar of his dress shirt, playing carefully with the top button.

Eventually, their lips broke apart as they caught their breath. Bodies still pressed together, Charles leant forward to rest his forehead onto hers, her eyes still close, for a moment before pressing a kiss to it. He placed his chin on top of her head and rested there, her head resting against the crook of his neck as she felt him - anticipating what it would feel like to feel nothing but him.

#x-men #x-men first class #x-men days of future past #x-men apocalypse #x-men dark phoenix #charles xavier x reader #charles xavier imagine #charles xavier one-shot #x-men imagine #x-men one-shot #charles xavier #erik lensherr #raven #mystique #sean #angel #hank mccoy #james mcavoy #michael fassbender

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orange-plum · 4 years ago

Text

So I was commissioned by @andrastesassets to write about the scene in “Satan and Me” where Satan gives his wings away for Natalie, but from his POV. This was kinda a big turning point as a wake-up call in the series for him, as you’re probably aware if you’ve read past that point and seen him be more open with his feelings and such. Anyway, it was a fun little thing to explore (yes, this is canon thoughts of his). I never expected to be commissioned to explore deeper into a canon of my stories that hasn’t been put into words before with the images alone of the updates, but I’m def open to that in the future!

Without further ado, here you go.

The looming presence behind him paled in comparison to the disorienting lurch his stomach gave as he kneeled on the unwelcoming cement floor. Keeping his gaze down, concentrating on the little tremors of his arms holding him upright, Satan struggled to properly see through the fog of stress clouding his mind. Clouding his judgement.

Fuck, this wasn’t the right thing to do, was it? Was he being too hasty? Should he spring up and sprint out the door before he followed through with something he couldn’t come back from? This was definitely one of his more impulsive and reckless decisions he’d ever committed to. Nothing could truly be worth this kind of –

Satan’s hand twitched, starting to rise as nerves got the best of him, when a blur of orange and maroon hovered on the edge of his peripheral. For a brief moment, he found himself vaguely wondering what the smudge of color was in the expanse of drab brown walls and muted trim.

Reality came crashing against him like an unforgiving tide for what seemed like the tenth time this morning. Sweat gathered at the base of his neck and he swallowed.

Satan returned his palm flat against the cement, locking his joints and muscles into place so that he would not stand up. His stomach did another discombobulated lurch.

Right. This was for Natalie. Natalie, who had no right looking so gray, Father, she was like a corpse.

She is a corpse! His mind howled the confirmation at him, leaving his breaths shallow in his welling panic.

Yes, that was true. It had been true for hours now, yet, somehow, the complete depth of what that really entailed eluded him in his denial. How could she be dead when she had talked to him only moments ago? Human’s lives had always felt fleeting, but had any ever felt quite this temporary before?

Less than a year they had been together . . . How had she burrowed this deeply under his skin? When? Satan tried to conjure a memory to pinpoint the exact moment Natalie had become a constant in his life as he bore his back to Death and Pestilence. In the end, it was fruitless. Between his ears remained endless static.

The tension in the air was suffocating. His arms trembled, but he kept his jaw clenched.

He would give them no further satisfaction when taking the last bit of value he still possessed of his former self. They would not see him fall apart at their feet. That could come later, when left in the privacy of this cold, dreary room, where he could lick his wounds and recover in peace.

He was still Lucifer, the Morning Star and omen of destruction to all who opposed him, wings or not.

But, fuck . . . Father, he would prefer to keep his wings.

Somehow, boneless and lightheaded from the trauma of the morning, Satan noticed, with a small sense of intrigue, that his back actually felt heavier now that it was empty. How was that possible?

The long gashes where the trunks had been swiftly carved open spewed boiling trails of lava down his skin, soaking into the hem of his robe and pooling Great Lakes onto the floor. Energy had left in his limbs the moment the numbing kiss of Death’s blade breached his muscles.

On wobbling legs, Satan rose in his shock and joined Natalie at her side. He carefully reached toward her, gliding the tips of his fingers against her ashen cheek, almost afraid to touch, because she looked exactly the same. What the hell? She looked no different than when she had been splayed out like a weathered ragdoll amongst her bedsheets at sunrise, goddamnit.

Before he could garner enough strength to turn on his company and spew venom and vitriol from his lips, Satan froze. Warmth wafted over his fingers under her nose as he lowered his hand. Closer inspection revealed the gentle rise and fall of her chest. The nauseating cramping in his stomach abated so suddenly, he almost keeled over right then and there.

“Give it a few minutes,” Death commented over his shoulder, as if reading his mind. There was no longer a smile in his voice, his face a neutral mask as Satan glanced at him with gritted teeth, the sight of his former pride being folded up and collected like loose laundry too much to bear. “It takes a little while for a soul to acclimate into their body after death. I assure you, her color and liveliness will rekindle when she wakes up.”

Through the haze, Satan vaguely realized he must’ve been making some type of suspicious face when Death suddenly snorted and shook his head, his eyes gleaming. “For all we’ve been acquainted, Lucifer, you should know I’m not one to break my word. Give my regards to little Natalie when she rejoins the land of the living, won’t you. As always, it’s been a pleasure. I look forward to seeing you and your brother again when the time comes for your big day.”

With the room empty, peppered only with the soft sounds of Natalie’s breaths and the distant echoes of Death’s laughter down the desolate hallway, the elephant in the room was no longer avoidable. Satan slumped against a wall, transfixed by the rise and fall of the chest beside him. Even more so as the rosiness began to fill Natalie’s cheeks the longer she breathed life into her form.

His previous adrenaline had left him a hollow puppet, now that there was no longer the turbulent cocktail of anxiety and doubt weighing on his shoulders. Satan allowed himself to drift to the floor, lying beside the only person he had ever met who had compelled him to do something so utterly foolish. Jesus, her daredevil stunts to ground him at his lowest points seemed to have rubbed off on him, and likely not for the better.

Satan’s wounds throbbed at the edges, a constant reminder of the magnitude of what he had just done.

Don’t think about it, his mind lethargically reminded. What’s done is done, so don’t start regretting it now.

“Prophecy child, huh . . . ” Satan muttered, his arm leveraged under his head like a makeshift pillow. The light cascading through the windows almost seemed to light up Natalie’s hair in its luminescence. Amongst the carnage splattered around them from his sacrifice, she was ethereal and without blemish.

He had found out about the Child of Prophecy by chance, becoming enraged at the notion of being kept in the dark so late in the game. Natalie’s existence had changed from an everyday annoyance to one of unbearable burden.

She had the power to sway him? To sway his empire and everything he worked for? A being like that, who would steal his autonomy or cast him spellbound, was too dangerous to fraternize with. There was just too much on the line to risk throwing away for some goofy, loud-mouthed human without an ounce of self-preservation.

And so Satan had done the only logical thing he could think of at the time: He ran away, leaving her with that pitiful, crumpled face as he rejected her in that inconsequential Oregon town. The less time he spent with her, the better off he’d be.

Only . . . That had not played out as he’d hoped. Watching Natalie disappear over the side of a bridge had been like a bolt of electricity coursing through his body. That she would see him as the monster that he was, a grotesque monstrosity that even Michael had recoiled from, and attempt to help him, regardless? Well . . . Perhaps there was more to Natalie McAllister than he had originally considered. He’d cradled her close and winced while he repaid her kindness by accidentally boiling her alive.

Oregon was a wake-up call.

Natalie had piqued his curiosity, her smiling reassurance that she didn’t befriend monsters jumpstarting the heart in his chest that he had presumed stopped functioning centuries ago. Not only that, but he had no way of knowing he would soon find out that running toward the very man attacking her and her cowardly little friend, despite the blatant terror in her eyes, was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Oh,” Satan muttered, something foreign flooding into his chest, emotion catching in his throat as he stared at Natalie’s slumbering form.

Silencing Hell for him at the cost of her soul . . .

Calling him her guardian angel. Crying, not for fear of Hell, but for fear of being separated from his company . . .

As much as he wanted to deny it, the fondness in Natalie’s eyes as she smiled at him was undoubtedly genuine. She really did seem to look at him like he hung the stars above her head.

“I love you, Lucifer. I’m glad I got to meet someone like you.”

Satan trembled, unable to properly sort through the sensations overflowing from his chest as Natalie’s eyelashes began to flutter. Champagne bubbles tickled his stomach, and though not required to breathe to live, he felt so remarkably breathless at once.

So that’s what this is, Satan distantly thought, watching pale eyelashes finally parting to reveal a cognizant gaze, blinking against the trickle of sunlight warming her cheeks. When meeting Natalie’s eyes, he couldn’t keep the smile of relief from his face.

Satan understood that he had never experienced this before, but he somehow knew what to latch onto in his jumbled mind with unquestionable conviction.

I love her.

#satan and me #writing #its not technically but im going to tag it #fanfiction #writing commission #commission #andrastesassets

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 4 years ago

Note

For BTHB... wound that would not heal with a supervillian? (Not the one from drowning. That poor guy has suffered enough). And maybe a hero or civilian caretaker?

Circle for completed, heart for requested

Hmmmm I disagree about that. I actually want to post Part 11 of Drowning, but I am trying to finish requests first. Comfort is my favorite part, so I want to write him out of torture sooo bad.

Anyways, thank you for the ask and because you asked for a hero or a civilian caretaker, you get both.

One Month

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: fainting, death mention, painful wound cleaning, jealousy

Supervillain walked stiffly out of the grocery store, clutching at his plastic bag. Every movement, every step, sent a wave of pain through his body and to his head where it condensed. He groaned, trying to ignore his splitting headache.

"Hey Supervillain!"

Supervillain stopped, squeezing his eyes shut. He recognized that voice and really did not want to have to deal with it right now.

"Supervillain?" The voice spoke again, closer this time, but still oddly far away. Not that it was in his vicinity either- very distant and probably an hallucination. Or, he thought that until a hand clasped his shoulder.

Supervillain jumped, turning around sharply and nearly falling over. In his face was a very concerned Hero.

"Hey bro, you good?" Hero asked, his lips upturned in a genuinely worried smile.

"Yeah, yeah fine," Supervillain replied, adjusting his feet so he wouldn't sway- not that it helped. "Just scared me," he said, ducking his head and proceeding to walk away.

But Hero's hand stopped him. "I wanted to say thank you," he said. "For saving my girl. You didn't have to."

Supervillain was taken aback. Yes, about a month ago he saved Hero's girlfriend from another villain by taking a bullet. It penetrated his back and never exactly healed.

"Just a professional courtesy," Supervillain shrugged. "And anyway I may need her to, you know, kidnap her and use her to get info out of you."

Gosh, why wasn't he thinking straight? He shouldn't have said that, shouldn't have said that.

Hero face fell, but into an expression of joking. He lightly punched Supervillain's biceps.

Supervillain swayed, completely thrown off balance as a rushing feeling ran through his head. Gosh, he needed to sit down, but definitely not in front of Hero.

"Bro, come on. I know that wasn't the real reason. You don't need to play tough guy. C'mere." Hero pulled Supervillain into a classic bro hug, patting his back roughly- not that a supervillain couldn't take a little pounding.

But it made Supervillain feel sick, oh so sick. He fell forward into the embrace, put used a good portion of his limited energy to pull himself back up.

"You good man? You look pale," Hero inquired, stepping back from Supervillain.

Supervillain nearly threw up from the dizziness and lack of support. No, bud, get a hold of yourself.

Supervillain walked three steps before he keeled forward, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

《~~》

"He's waking up," Hero said, as he supported Supervillain in the tub. Civilian looked up from her delicate work of bathing and frowned.

"Well now he's gonna feel all of his," she monotoned, as she spooned water into the gaping, pussy wound on his back.

Hero mumbled something in reply and draped Supervillain's still-limp upper body over the side of the tub, stood up and stretched. "I'll go get him something," he said and walked away, leaving his girlfriend with the supervillain who was slowly regaining consciousness.

Civilian examined the wound, shuddering as she realized that she would have had that wound in her head. But of course, she wouldn't feel feeling the pain of it for she would be six feet in the ground.

The wound was literally crocheted with pieces of thin sewing thread. Pieces of black string stuck in and out of it, some seemed to be ingrown. The pain would be astronomical, granted Supervillain was able to stay awake for the procedure.

Hero returned with two white pills. He guided them into Supervillain's loosely dangling mouth, tilted his head back, and dumped some water. The supervillain seemed to ignore the next step, but eventually swallowed due to the nagging instinctual urge.

"Ibuprofen won't cut it," Civilian pointed out. "I need tweezers."

"They're the only thing we have." Hero gave Civilian a pair of tweezers. She twirled them between her fingers before angling them to the wound.

"Of course since I used all the good stuff on you," Civilian growled, eyes piercing and eyebrows furrowing as she concentrated. She pinched one of the threads and pulled. It was short, but frayed, signaling that the rest was still imbedded in.

The next one gave some resistance. Supervillain groaned, moving around in the tub, arms aimlessly flopping around.

"Hold his shoulders still," Civilian ordered, gaze remaining steady on her work. "The bullet shattered a couple ribs and possibly cracked a vertebrae." She squinted looking closer, "A bit of the bullet is still in there."

"Can you remove it?" Hero asked, positioning himself to pin Supervillain's upper body. The injured man whimpered and writhed, silently sobbing.

"Of course I can. I did surgery on your collarbone before remember?"

"Duh," Hero replied, shaking his head at the agonizing memory.

Civilian worked on the wound as Supervillain screamed and begged for it to stop. It took five hours to remove each and every thread, the deeply imbedded bullet, and to make sure the broken ribs weren't doing any damage to the rest of his body. They weren't, thankfully.

"Okay," Civilian sighed, wrapping the injury in gauze and bandages. "Bring him to my bed."

Hero pulled Supervillain's body out of the tub and laid him on the floor. Next, they both wrapped their ward in a thick bathrobe.

"Okay," Civilian sighed rubbing her eyes. Hero wrapped his arm around her shoulder and leaned his head on her's, kissing it gently.

Supervillain was asleep on Civilian's bed, all sprawled out on his stomach. He clutched the blankets every once in a while, breath hitching.

Hero slept on a nearby armchair, out immediately. Civilian took longer to fall asleep, watching Hero and Supervillain as they drooled.

Eventually, she also fell asleep, soothed by the raspy breaths of her boyfriend and newfound patient.

《~~》

Supervillain came to very slowly, dozing off here and there. Or he thought he did. He realized something wasn't right and his brain was not functioning correctly.

He started to vaguely come aware of his surroundings- the porridge in his mouth, the soft whispers, the cooling ointment on his back- until they all filled into one big painting.

He was being cared for and all that waited was to open his eyes to see who.

So one day, he mustered the will to pry his leaden eyelids open and look around. A girl's face was hovering disgustingly close to his, so close that her warm breath brushed against his cheek.

"Hey buddy," she whispered, rubbing her hand at his hair. "Finally decided to wake up, huh?"

Supervillain stiffly nodded, fingers tapping against the bed.

"What happened?" He asked.

"We saved you," Hero grumbled. Supervillain turned to see the ragged and angry looking man reclining on an armchair.

"Oh," Supervillain whispered.

"You were suffering that wound for weeks," Civilian hummed. "It's a miracle you aren't dead."

"Yeah," Supervillain breathed, exhaustion tugging at his eyelids. They dropped just as Civilian walked out of the room.

"You are going to pay for taking Civilian away from me," Hero growled just as sleep consumed Supervillain.

#bad things happen bingo #hero caretaker #civilian caretaker #villain x civilian #heros and villains #supervillain whumpee

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moonlit-han · 5 years ago

Text

stray kids reacting to you having bad cramps ↠ all members

genre: reaction, fluff word count: 3.5k warnings: discussion of menstrual cramps, pain, etc., swearing request: yes (anon)

a/n: hey, anon~ sorry this took me so long to write for you;;;; I decided to try a new style—it was nice to write this because I got to imagine how I’d like to be taken care of. (wow, can you tell I could use some cuddles right now?) I hope this is comforting to you! stay cozy✨

✧ masterlist in bio ✧

bang chan

bad cramps are a normal thing for you

and chan knows this all too well

but sometimes just explaining something doesn’t do it justice

your cramps are so bad that, a lot of the time, you can’t even get out of bed

bad enough that you can’t even scream

chan probably wouldn’t show his concern too much because he doesn’t want to worry you

he would be really concerned the first time you had horrible cramps around him, though

he’d slept over after a movie night and woke up to you curled around a pillow, whimpering

the first thought he’d had was that you were having a nightmare

and so he just gently rubbed your back a little to calm you

but you’d kept whimpering and occasionally curled more closely around the pillow

aaaand you’d finally managed to explain that you were having cramps

and couldn’t exactly move…

chan had quickly drawn a bath for you

(and added a rubber ducky just because he could aljhadfjlkshfjkh)

you’d kinda squeaked when he picked you up, not expecting to be lifted bodily out of your blankets

chan would just kiss the top of your head as he carries you to the bathroom and then gently help you out of your pajamas

the bath would be extremely hot but that was perfect (♡‿♡)

hhhhhh and he’d even add rose bath soap to the water since it was your favorite

(you’d end up with a tiara of bubbles on your head heheheh)

chan would wash your hair and rub your back, massaging your sore muscles

even though the pain is only in your low back and abdomen, you still manage to hold tension in the rest of your body

and then he’d join you in the shower to help you rinse off

he’d hold you because the pain is just so bad and you can barely stand

and if you needed more than just a massage, he’d be happy to oblige

sometimes the release of pleasure helps ease the pain, too

chan just wants you to feel good and to be relaxed

after helping you dry off, chan would bundle you into warm clothes

it was always important, you’d said before, to stay warm

he’d even brush and braid your hair (if you have long hair, that is)

the little tingles that shoot through your scalp when he plays with your hair feel amazing

chan would kiss your cheek and your neck as he works his fingers through your hair

he insisted that you needed to stay hydrated, sometimes having to cajole you into drinking water because you could barely move

he’d want you to be as comfortable as possible

he’d make a blanket nest for you

he’d even put a heating pad or hot water bottle in there for you

pain meds and water would be close at hand

and whatever food you were craving

and he’d be extra affectionate

so many hugs and cuddles

just hugs all day long

maybe it’s just because you’re in pain

but chan’s hugs when you’re having horrible cramps are somehow different from his usual ones??

like he just envelopes you even more than usual and doesn’t let go

you’d just burrow into his arms even further

he’d give you one of his wonderfully big and comfy sweatshirts to wear

it smells like the soap he uses and just his general chan-ness

in other words, the best smell e v e r ㅠ_ㅠ ( ◡‿◡ ♡)

and just having him there with you would make everything better

lee minho

he would also be really loving and caring

and totally calm, not at all surprised

he’s just so even-keeled, you know?

would probably insist that doongie, soonie, and dori sleep with you

minho: “cats are totally medicine! their purring will help!”

they’re super snuggly anyway and just hunker down next to you

and minho is just a fourth cat, honestly

he kinda just curls up with you, massaging your low back if you have cramps that ache there

or just resting a warm hand on your belly to help soothe the pain

he’d get you a fluffy blanket and some orange juice (for the vitamin c to help your muscles relax and to reduce the inflammation!)

and definitely a heating pad or a hot water bottle

if you have two hot water bottles, he’d make a sandwich out of you and the water bottles

(so he could eat you up later ;) )

minho would insist that you take naps, holding you to his chest so you’d fall asleep more easily

he’d also queue up episodes of a show or several movies for the two of you to watch if you were home for the day

if you were at work and had super bad cramps, minho would bring you whatever food or pain meds or anything you’d need

he’s the kind of person who would just drop everything to take care of you, you know? (((we know, lee know alfkjafkjshjhk i’m so sorry i had to)))

he’s just a little ball of love and would want you to feel better

he’d kinda rock you back and forth in his arms if you have a particularly bad spasm of pain

like chan, minho would also get you into the shower to help you feel better

he’d have to convince you to even get out of bed, tho...

“come on, y/n. you’ll feel better if you take a shower. i promise”

“hhhhhhh i don’t wanna get up”

“y/n…..”

“mmph”

*minho grabbing your hands and tugging* “sweetheart, please.” *tug* "UGH why do you have to act like dead weight now of all times. geez, y/n.”

“...........”

*tugging intensifies* “get! up! i’ll drag you into the shower, you dork. you know i will”

“fiiiiiiiiiine”

he’d still have to pretty much drag you to the bathroom

AJDFHKGDJFGK

minho gently stripping you out of your clothes would kinda be like trying to dress a baby, since you wouldn’t want to move

he’d just hold you in there, rubbing soap over your body and shampoo through your hair

the hot water and minho holding you, honestly, works as well as any pain med

thank goodness ｡ﾟ(ﾟ∩´﹏`∩ﾟ)ﾟ｡

and at any time whatsoever, minho’s gentle smile would just make your day so much better

and you know he’d pepper you with kisses all over

(i mean all over)

bc it just always make you feel the most contented ever hhhhhh

and you deserve to not be thinking about pain

bc pain fucking sucks;;;;

and he’d just tell you how much he loves you so much you don’t even know how to respond

and it kinda makes you wanna cry

but from happiness

alkfjhskjhsklhjs

VERY SOFT

seo changbin

changbin would be pretty calm and would know exactly what to do

just matter-of-fact about taking care of you

you’d told him you get really bad cramps before

but the first time you had really bad cramps around him, he was a little freaked out

he hadn’t realized that period cramps could be that bad

you’d come home and pretty much collapsed on the couch

he’d thought you were just tired

but when you let out a strangled scream, changbin was;;;; um;;; a bit worried

okay not just worried

c o n c e r n e d (⊙ __ ⊙);;;;

maybe even a little scared??

he didn’t want to let on that he was worried about you

hearing you kinda just whimpering and crying out in pain tore at his heart

changbin would give you all the stuffed animals you have

(gyu would also make an appearance)

just pile them up around you “for emotional support”

and then he’d wrap his arms and legs around you to cuddle you close

definitely your basic case of:

“binnie please let go”

“no”

“binnie i can’t breathe…”

“oh,,,” *loosens hold slightly*

akjfhgaljkhajkhg

he’s literally just a cuddle bug hhhhhhhh

and I MEAN

THE BIGGEST CUDDLE BUG EVER

OH MY GODS

he’d rub your belly or your back, depending on where it hurt

and just want to make everything better

changbin would be the one to give you a full body massage if your cramps are bad

he’d insist on doing it, actually

even if you’re whiny and complain, he knows that once you’re relaxed you’ll feel a million times better

he’d concentrate on your low back, pressing his wonderfully warm hands into your muscles

and slowly but surely you’d feel the pain and tension release

hhhhhh he’s probably really good at giving massages ｡･ﾟ(ﾟ⊃ω⊂ﾟ)ﾟ･｡

ALSO!!! can you just imagine how warm binnie would be cuddling?

HHHHHHHH

you wouldn’t even need a heating pad

he’s all the warmth and comfort you’ll ever need

aldfjkahjlskhsl (♡‿♡)

and his muscles would be the comfiest

they’re all so big but would be so squishy when at rest

hhhhhh just imagine it

laying your head on his chest with his arms around you

the softest oh my god

changbin is so kind and gentle that he’d just want to make sure you’re okay and be really soft

HHHHHHHHHHH

once you were feeling a bit better, he’d probably tickle you a little

just so you’d release your tension

what a cute goofball

UGH HE’S JUST SO SOFT

he’d sing you to sleep while threading his fingers through your hair

and his low raspy voice would be so calming and lovely

binnie’s go-to medicine is just literally just all the cuddles ever ((well, and pain meds, etc., of course, bc cramps are horrible and evil))

hwang hyunjin

this boy would be just a little panicky

ya know, jUst A litTtLE

you’d suddenly doubled over while you were out shopping

for matching couple sweaters

(you know, the horrible kind that could only be worn ironically or by people so pretentious that they don’t know the meaning of irony)

and hyunjin is all

“OH MY GOD Y/N (＠_＠) (」ﾟﾛﾟ)｣

BABE

ARE YOU OKAY

HHHHHH

WHAT DO YOU NEED

WHAT CAN I DO;;;;;;;;;”

he’d kinda flutter around you like a moth

all worried eyes and nervous energy

he really wouldn’t know what to do

bc FUCK???!!

CRAMPS??!!!! ┗(｀ﾟДﾟ´)┛ﾟ

not his forte

“i just need to go home, jinnie. i’ll be fine”

((yeah... lie thru your teeth y/n;;;; ))

he’s still panicky as fuck

when you get home you kinda just collapse on the bed

hyunjin’s all “OOOOH CUDDLE TIME YES”

which was okay for like 2 mins until a g o n y

“jinnie, i need pain meds. NOW” (x﹏x);;;;;

hyunjin would bound off the bed all “I got this, babe!

and then realize that he had no idea where you kept the pain meds strong enough to deal with menstrual cramps

“uuuuh where are they . . .” (⌒_⌒;)

*y/n flailing in the general direction of the medicine cabinet*

so once he found them, he’d get you a glass of water and help you sit up to take the meds

all better?

NOPE

you’d need a hot water bottle and blankets

oh and chocolate. lots of chocolate

hyunjin would be so damn determined to make you feel better

to do anything he could bc you seemed in so!! much!!! pain!!!!

ten minutes later you’d find yourself practically swaddled in blankets on the couch with Hyunjin curled around you like a fucking squirrel or something

just let him take care of you

he’s doing his best;;;

he’d want to make you all the food you’d ever want

but would keep getting distracted

bc all he wants to do is just kiss you a bunch

and tell you how cute you are

bc, let’s face it, y/n, you’re pretty cute aldsjfhgsjfkhalhg

even though he isn’t sure what to do at first, hyunjin is actually quite good at taking care of you

if you’re at his place, you’d definitely end up with kkami on your lap

bc why wouldn’t you want a sweet pup giving you all the love when you’re in pain?!!

hhhh so sweet

han jisung

oh jisung, my sweet precious squirrel boy

jisung would probably be a lot like hyunjin alfjahkjdfh

kinda panicky bc he doesn’t know what to do

really surprised that someone could have cramps that bad

it’s clear to him that, while he’s felt pain before, it was nothing like what you’re dealing with

how the hell do you do this every. single. month.

keeps telling you you’re badass

but,,,,, um;;;;;

Y I K E S

*queue fluttering, panicky hands*

“hhhhhh baby what can i do;;;;;”

y/n: *indistinct pain noises* “i’m fine”

“yoU’rE NOt fiNe!!!”

“ji really it’s okay. i’m used to this”

(you say as you’re curled on the couch, clutching just below your belly with a look of concentrated pain on your face)

“HHHHHHHHHHHHHH”

he’d end up bring you soup and some water

bc soup helps everything, right?

and all the pain meds he could get his hands on

there would be like 10 random bottles of every kind of pain relieving medicine tumbling out of his arms

“i didn’t know what would work;;;;;”

he’s just a sweet lad

what else was he supposed to do?

you’d manage a weak smile before another stab of pain would decide to hurtle through you like a fucking bullet train

at this point, jisung would definitely be feeling sympathetic pain

(not fun;;; )

he’d help you sit up and take the meds

then c u d d l e s

literally just all the cuddles in the world

jisung would hold you tightly, arms and legs wrapped around you, stroking your hair to get you to fall asleep

not that you’d be having any trouble with that, since you would be snuggled by

The Master of Spooning™ himself

even though he’s comforting you and helping, jisung can’t help but be glad that he gets to cuddle you for a long time

and when you felt angry at your body for giving you such horrible pain he’d hold you even tighter

then find some way to make you laugh

laughter is very important in jisung’s world (and, therefore, your world)

and you do find that it takes your mind off the pain, if only a bit

it’s almost like clockwork when you get bad cramps

same time of the month, same kind of pain

(you’ve definitely cursed every single god you can think of for this)

so he knows in the small, secret recesses of his mind, that he’ll get to cuddle the heck out of you at those times

he’d just smother you with kisses to wake you up to make sure you’d take more pain meds

okay;;; he’d smother you with kisses all day, too

and, like a cat kneading, he’d massage your belly and back to relax your muscles

you’d felt a little better after that

resting your head on his chest and hearing his heartbeat would be incredibly calming

by the end of the day, jisung would just hold you on top of him

like you’re a little otter and he doesn’t want to lose you

alkjfghakjlfhahjfgaklhga (●´ω｀●)

lee felix

felix would be amazingly casual about the whole thing and just ready to go

like;;; this boy would just immediately pick you up, kiss your forehead, and carry you to bed

need pain meds?

he’s already put them in the drawer of your bedside table as soon as you’d started your period

need a heating pad?

he’s got like five—all different shapes, sizes, whatever you need

(you’re not quite sure where or when he gets all this stuff, but you’re not complaining)

all he’d want is to just cuddle you

he’d turn those big, soulful eyes on you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen

((which you are (≧◡≦) ))

and even if you’re curled on the bed in mildly stinky pajamas

he’d still just curl up with you and try to make everything okay

felix would just ramble on about anything and everything to try to distract you

yes, you’d probably be witness to Felix’s Interpretive Dance Time

.....whether you wanted to or not

(you secretly like it when he’s that silly alkfsjhajkfh)

and, of course, felix would make you breakfast (even if it wasn’t morning)

an absolutely delicious meal of all your favorite foods, even if they’re not normal breakfast food

((but honestly, what even is normal breakfast food??? just eat what’s yummy!))

since he’s been practicing baked goods, he’d also make you a lil cake just to cheer you up

and would try to ice it, which would come out really cute

he’d put “to my smol bean: UR CUTE ILY”

bc we all know felix is a cute dork who’d totally put something like that on a cake

hhhhhhhhhh

would probably call chan or changbin just to make sure he’s not forgetting anything for taking care of you

he wouldn’t forget anything for you, anyway, bc he’s just that committed to making you feel better

oh and you’d definitely watch like 15 children’s movies in a row (okay maybe not in a row, but still)

bc what’s better than laughing at the antics of various animated characters?!

and singing along to the songs would be really fun and take your mind off the pain

it would make you breathe properly and relax!

yay!!!

felix would probably act out some of the scenes to his favorite movies beside the screen just so you could check his accuracy

AALKJFHGAJFH

and if all you wanted to do is sleep, felix would curl up with you on the bed or couch

and run his fingers through your hair and down your back to soothe you

and give you smol sweet kisses before falling asleep

kim seungmin

seungmin is also quite practical

when you told him that you get excruciating cramps, he immediately went and researched everything about menstrual cramps

potential causes for especially bad cramps

what to do for someone who’s having bad cramps

what not to do when someone’s having bad cramps

and he’d immediately gone out and bought what seemed like a year’s supply of pain meds, chocolate, three heating pads, and three hot water bottles, as well as extra pads and tampons

so the first time you were together and you kinda just went “aaghhh” in pain, seungmin immediately ran to his closet to get All The Things

you’d given him a quizzical look when he came back into the living room

he had a bag that looked, somehow, Official

although, most of seungmin’s things look Official~

(he’s just that organized and meticulous alkjfhsjfghsh)

so when he’d opened the bag, you had to stifle a giggle

in the bag, seungmin had put everything you’d need for when you had your period

hhhhhhhh what a sweetheart (✿´ ꒳ ` )

and if you need space, he’d just be in the other room minding his own business until you demand cuddles

he’d just absentmindedly give you head pets while the two of you watch a show or something

or he’d read to you from whatever book he’d been reading

or that you’d been reading (▰˘◡˘▰)

would make you tea~

you’d probably end up cuddling his little puppy stuffed animal at some point

um;;;; seungmin’s potential fathering instincts would probably come out a little bc he just feels so much affection for you

and is just in CARING MODE

if you’re out together and you have cramps, you’d find yourself whisked back home for a day of rest

if you can’t go home, seungmin would just get you the proper pain meds and some water

he probably keeps meds for you in his wallet (´ω｀♡)

all seungmin wants is for you to not be in pain

bc it hurts his heart

he doesn’t exactly show it a bunch on the outside to other people

but he’s really caring

most of all with youuuu~~~

he wants to ki— kick whoever decided that cramps could be this bad

like what the fuck, man;;;;;

he’d be very encouraging as he talks to you, since he doesn’t want you to worry or anything

he’s knows you worry enough about why you get bad cramps

whenever the pain would get so bad that you want to cry and feel like you’re going to lose your mind, seungmin’s bright smile would bring you back to earth

he’d reassure you that everything’s okay

and kiss the top of your head as he holds you (*/ω＼)

yang jeongin

jeongin’s remedy to cramps is stuffed animals

all the stuffed animals

all of them

e v e r

you both have a propensity for stuffed animals, characters, random objects, etc.

you even have a stuffed strawberry that’s the size of your torso

so jeongin would just pile up all the stuffies and a bunch of pillows

and settle you in them

you’d feel like you were drowning in stuffed animals ajkfshgkjfhg

like felix, he’d probably secretly call chan just to check that he’s doing the right thing for you, too (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

jeongin would make you tea and bring a pot of it to your bedside table

(just herbal tea, not caffeinated bc he doesn’t want you to get dried out)

he’d bring everything you could ever want in tea:

honey, milk, lemon, sugar

the tea would be reeeeeally yummy

and the warmth would help calm your nerves that had been on high alert since the night before when the cramps had started

jeongin would curl up with you and just stroke your hair

he’d turn on a show the two of you had been watching

a comedy, of course

why would you want to watch anything else while in pain??

okay so as calm as all this seems, he’d be fucking panicked as hell inside

like how is supposed to deal with this???

welp….. might as well just pretend it’s any other day

and you just happen to need more cuddles

he finds it really cute when you are b a b y

and when you’re having horrible cramps….

yoU ARE B A B Y!!!!!!

the cutest ever

like holy shit

jeongin would be completely floored by how cute you are

you’d just kind of nuzzle into his stomach as you curl up next to him

of course, he’d also make sure you remember to take pain meds and all

sometimes he’d be a little annoying about it but not by much~

just enough to get you to WeAR sOcKs Y/N!!

he’d totally be the one to kinda pounce on you and carry you outside to sit on the lawn

not one but two blankets would cushion you from the grass and any bugs~

he’d probably bring all the stuffed animals he’d piled on you earlier outside

“they’ll get lonely!!”

…….right

definitely not an excuse to throw the radish plushies he got you at your head…..

((you’d get him back, though, with a few well-aimed charizards or something))

but if you needed him to be serious, he would be

bc, really, he cares about you so much he feels like his heart’s gonna burst (*♡∀♡)

2K notes · View notes

kalee60 · 4 years ago

Note

i wish you would write a fic where jock!bucky seduces twink!steve, maybe he hits steve with that pec flex guys do that is both dick-ish and insanely hot at the same time?

Oh Manda - you absolute gorgeous gem! I very much like what you're asking me to create here 😘 I also love, love, love that you sent me a prompt!

I immediately think of sun, summer, ice cream, boys at the beach playing frisbee and our gorgeous Smol!Steve and Jock!Bucky as friends mutually pining (Ha - it's me, it was never going to be anything but this story!)

Once again, my quick little drabble (that I wrote today when I woke up {thanks to my sprinting buddies in discord}) turned into a 4k fic... But I mean - I think that's okay (more stucky for us - right?)

I hope you like where I took this, maybe in a slightly different direction than intended - it's also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to check them out and read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Beach and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

Steve was in hell, literally. It was hot, he was sweaty and he was being tortured. Honestly, Steve really loved summer, but at the same time he loathed it. And most of that had to do with the fact he had to sit around in his large group of friends and watch Bucky fucking Barnes sans top and wearing only a small pair of running shorts frolic over the sand at the beach.

Life was unfair.

How could somebody like Bucky actually exist in real time? He was a complete jock for starters, his looks and size perfect for being naturally great at sports, earning him a football scholarship of his choice (of course). And Steve, well Steve Rogers was as far from a jock as anyone could get. Not that he was horrible in the fitness and muscular department, but he was too little and his asthma still played up to join rugged contact sports. Being 5’4 also didn’t particularly endear him to any of the coaches at college who were scouting for star players. Plus studying to be a high school teacher probably wasn’t sporty enough, and he was leaning towards a specialist English role, not Gym.

So Steve joined the campus gym instead of a sporting team, did weights and classes and enjoyed it immensely. It was where he met Natasha, and that fateful meeting brought him to Bucky and his dickish jock ways and friends.

Though if Steve was to be fair (of which he was - usually) not all jocks were dicks, even if Steve had preconceived notions from high school what college boys would be like. He'd been pleasantly surprised to find that the captain of the football team was not only gorgeous, cocky and a bit of a douche, but also very smart, kind and had a smile that could make Steve’s legs turn to jelly with only a small half tilt.

But it was as he sat on a towel under the shade of a large umbrella that Carol had stolen from her parent’s garden shed, that Steve really felt the heat, and it had nothing to do with the blazing sun above him and the burning sand beneath his feet.

It was all Bucky Barnes and his chest, his slim waist, his tanned olive skin, the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his sinewed and muscled thighs that tapered down to calves that bunched up as he jumped and landed to grab the frisbee aimed at him.

Steve sighed heavily as his gaze lingered on the brunette. Bucky Barnes was every mans wet dream, every girls perfect prince, and Steve pulled his dark sunnies over his eyes again, ignoring the pounding in his chest, the throbbing in his groin as he watched Bucky behind dark lenses spring up and prance over the sand, laughing with a wide mouth that could do sinful things to Steve’s body. The worst part was that Bucky was doing all of this with no knowledge that Steve harboured the biggest crush of his life.

It really was unfair.

Sitting back to lean on his hands, stretching his legs out, he saw Bucky glance over at him, and gave a smile. Bucky grinned back and then grappled Sam to the sand to yank the frisbee from his grip. Life wasn’t unfair because Bucky didn’t date guys, he did, very much so, and girls too from what Steve had seen, it was just the guys Bucky dated were typically more like… jocks.

Steve hunched over, trying to not stare too long and inadvertently get turned on, finding it an impossibility as his eyes wouldn’t tear away from Bucky’s frame as he bounded effortlessly over the soft sand, something Steve couldn’t do. He’d almost lost a lung from the trek over to their secluded spot earlier that day. Soft sand was the enemy - that was fact.

“Heads up.”

Startled from his thoughts by Bucky’s deep voice urgently calling out his way, Steve looked up only to see the frisbee coming straight for him. With a reaction that even surprised himself, Steve raised his hand and caught the flying disc with nary a blink of an eye.

Bucky was skidding to a halt on his knees before him a second later.

“Shit, Steve. That was epic, you sure you don’t want to play? You can be on my team - my secret frisbee weapon.”

Steve’s mouth went dry as he tried to listen to the words leaving Bucky, because the delectable man was less than two feet away and the smell of sunscreen, sweat and something virile and uniquely Bucky entered his senses. Steve knew that if sitting next to Bucky in the dining hall was torture when Bucky was wearing his spicy cologne, he’d keel over being enveloped in his sweaty beach scent for longer than a minute.

God he wanted Bucky to fill him, everywhere. Make him forget his name, take him over and over.

He realised that he still hadn’t answered and heat crept into his cheeks, managing to blurt out, “I’m good for now. Nat’s grabbing ice creams and I don’t want to get a stitch.”

Steve then gave Bucky what he hoped was a soft and cheeky winning grin, but the way Bucky faltered, swallowed tightly, face impassive made Steve wonder if he’d missed the mark on trying to be flirty.

He really was as hopeless as Darcy continually told him.

Steve’s eyes trailed down to Bucky’s broad and lightly haired chest, finding himself breathing quicker, wondering if he’d remembered to pack his inhaler. No, he was sure it was in the pocket of his backpack. Thank god, he might need it in the face of Bucky’s glorious muscles moving in his vision all day.

“If you’re sure,” Bucky finally said in a deep steady voice.

“Maybe later,” Steve stammered, holding up the frisbee with a shaky hand. He had to get a grip.

“Alright, later then, I’m holding you to that.” And Bucky took the disc from Steve’s grip and was off bounding towards Sam, Carol, Thor and Maria.

While Steve recalibrated his thoughts, Nat came back holding only one ice cream cone, licking it slowly with a sparkle in her eye as Clint trailed behind, wearing Nat’s beach bag and carrying the rest of the ice creams, and Steve worried she’d overestimated his balancing skills. But if Nat asked, Clint would do - it was kind of amazing the power she had over him without even trying. Although they weren’t dating (yet), Nat was never cruel, she was playing the long game and really liked Clint, but had been hurt before by some Russian asshole, and Steve knew that Clint, when Nat finally agreed to go out with him would never be the same man again. He’d be lost in deep shock and joy. They were perfect for each other.

A pang went through his gut as Steve watched them, taking a cone from Clint, wishing he had someone that wanted him as much as they wanted each other.

“Vanilla,” Nat commented with a scrunch of her nose at Steve’s choice as he took a lick of the creamy goodness, the chill on his tongue welcome under the heat of the day. “You’re so very basic, Rogers.”

“Hey there is nothing wrong with that. I happen to love vanilla.” A rich voice said from right in front of Steve as Bucky flopped down on the sand, kicking up little grains that stuck on Bucky’s thighs where he was sweating. Steve shut his eyes against the picture before him, once again pleading to any God or Goddess that would listen that it wasn’t fair, that they had to find him someone one day. He just hoped it would be soon, else his dick drop off from Bucky unwittingly giving him blue balls.

“You’re one to talk, you didn’t even want ice cream, just a soda. And a club soda at that.”

Bucky looked over to Nat, flashing her a wide grin, and Steve immediately started to lick his ice cream just to do anything but stare at the crinkling in the corners of Bucky’s eyes, or to watch his lips as they wrapped around the bottle tip. He only half listened to their banter as they kept teasing each other, Nat and Bucky having been best friends from childhood, the reason how Steve inadvertently fell into the group of jocks, for a lack of a better term to encompass all the fit people he was now surrounded with.

Nat had introduced him to everyone after they’d hit it off at the gym in first semester, and Steve had waited for the inevitable teasing to commence about his small stature, but it never came. He was always included, never mocked (unless it was called for, because he was a facts man and couldn’t help correcting people when they were clearly in the wrong) and it was such a novel experience, so how could he not fall immediately in lust with the football captain? One who had smokey blue-grey eyes, sinfully full lips made for kissing among other fun activities and a personality that you could fall into and live inside forever.

“Err, Steve… your ice cream, it’s ummm, dripping.”

“What?” Steve asked, realising that he’d been swirling his tongue over the top of the soft confectionary and that his fingers were now completely sticky as the ice cream dripped over them on to his thigh. “Oh shit.”

Steve immediately switched hands and started to lap at his fingers, tongue darting between them to catch all the creaminess, sucking them into his mouth one by one, only looking up when he heard a muted groan. Bucky was moving before him, squirming in the sand, and as his eyes landed on Bucky, he startled, surprised to find Bucky’s hooded gaze directly on Steve. But his eyes hadn’t landed just anywhere, they were trained to Steve’s mouth, and as Steve swiped his finger through the sweetness that had dribbled on his thigh, Bucky’s gaze followed that finger's movements. Steve without thought, heart thumping hard, confusion and awe flowing through his veins, stuck the digit in his mouth, licking off the stickiness.

Thankfully, Steve had his sunglasses on, hiding his expression, but he knew his face was burning red at the brash and overt display. Bucky was watching him intently, the rise and fall of his gloriously thick chest heaved, and Bucky’s skin flushed from the exercise or maybe the sun. Steve wasn’t sure.

But it was as Steve licked around the base of the cone again, the ice cream melting quicker in the heat than he could swallow, Bucky’s pecs twitched.

Steve stopped all movement, caught at the tick of flesh, the way it bounced taut, watching with abject lust and desire as Bucky did it again - knowing exactly where Steve’s eyes were trained.

It was such a fucking dick move, a power move to get attention and Steve hated jocks who flexed like that, but on Bucky… on Bucky it was god damn mesmerizing. And it was after the third time Bucky’s pecs jumped, Bucky stood up abruptly and fled saying in a higher pitch than usual that he was jumping in the water, that Steve realised he might not have been doing it on purpose.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Bucky was dead, he was going to die from being hard for... how long had he known Steve Rogers, six months maybe? Well, that was how long he’d survived with a non-stop boner for the blonde man. And he was at the end of his tether.

Steve was everything Bucky ever wanted in a partner, smart, strong, intense, funny, handsome and a person that he could fall into, spend time with - love.

So it didn't help his little issue to be at the beach that day, watching Steve sit under the huge umbrella on brightly coloured towels in his swim trunks and a loose tank with arm holes so big he could see all the way through to his muscular chest and pink nipples. It was driving him fucking insane.

Sure he’d seen Steve wearing an array of items at the gym, but he’d never witnessed him so carefree as he was at the beach. He was smiling more, relaxed, joking while big sunglasses hid those gorgeous eyes that would give the ocean a run for its money as to what was bluer.

But what killed Bucky that particular day over every other day he lusted after Steve, what made him clench and twitch all over was watching Steve lick up his ice cream. It was downright obscene, Steve shouldn’t be allowed to do that in public, or at least he should have a warning sticker on his person.

Steve had a mouth made for sucking cock, and Bucky wanted, no, he needed to know what having those lips wrapped around him felt like. Christ, he wanted to know what it felt like to be buried in Steve, maybe even have Steve press into him. Fuck.

There was only one thing for it.

He had to seduce Steve, and he had to do it soon.

But that begged the question - how?

How did Bucky capture the attention of the smartest, funniest, quick witted and grumpiest man on campus? Not only that, but to have Steve take him seriously? Bucky was aware that people thought he was only a dumb jock, that all he had to offer the world was to play ball and shit talk other teams and work out in the gym. Which, yeah of course he did all of those things - but he really was so much more. He was studying economics, was thinking about trying to specialise and work as an international trade specialist after college, and although Bucky really loved playing ball - it wasn’t his whole life. He’d never go pro - well, not without a hell of a lot of luck and persistence, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to take something he enjoyed and make it a living in that way. He’d seen how broken some sports stars bodies were after a career, and he still wanted to be able to walk at forty without having had three knee reconstructions.

But Steve, Steve saw through all of that, he spoke to Bucky like an intellect, like he had something worthy to say, to add to the conversation. Even at the gym after Nat had introduced them (Bucky begging to know who the gorgeous guy she was chatting to on the rowing machines was) Steve and he worked out together, had fun catcalling each other for being weak and helped each other with their forms - something Bucky largely did just to get hands on Steve even though Steve’s form was perfect.

Bucky had been taken with the slight man from the first moment he’d seen him, always under the impression that Steve was too smart to even think about dating a meathead like him, even if he truly wasn't what his physique made him. So he stuck with friendship, but now he wanted more. Was going to ask for more.

“Whatcha thinking?” Nat asked as she swam out to float in the water next to him.

“Nothing much,” He replied, ignoring her knowing hum. He hated that they’d been friends forever and she knew all his tells.

The much needed cold water had soothed his itching skin, and from his vantage point he could look back at their rag tag group of friends, able to stare unabashadly at Steve as he laughed with Clint and Thor about something, staring up at Thor as he... as he fucking flexed in front of Steve.

“Easy boy,” Natasha grabbed his bicep that was taut from clenching his fists, “Thor’s with Jane remember? Steve’s not interested in someone like Thor anyway.”

Bucky’s eyes swung to her immediately. “What do you mean? Because he's a jock?”

Nat let out an exasperated sigh. “No you idiot. Because he’s interest lies elsewhere.”

“Oh,” Bucky’s chest squeezed tight, wondering who had Steve’s undivided attention. And he couldn’t help but watch Steve as Carol held out a hand to pull him to his feet, and suddenly Bucky forgot his disappointment when Steve pulled his tank off, revealing a gorgeous toned body in all its glory. Bucky’s dick stirred. Thank fuck he was hidden in the water.

“You are a colossal idiot. You know that right?” Nat deadpanned.

“I have to ask Steve out,” he blurted. “I need to… I need to be with him.”

“I know,” Nat said with a smirk, and Bucky looked at her gratefully, if she helped he would be fine. “But that really sounds like a you problem. Have fun with that.”

“You horrible cow,” Bucky sniped back, ready to splash her, but she was already under the water stealthily swimming up behind Clint, only to dunk the unsuspecting man.

Bucky’s attention suddenly caught on movement on the shoreline as Steve stood knee deep, testing the water and with no further hesitation, dove in, coming up for air not far from where Bucky floated. Bucky watched mesmerized as the sun glinted off Steve’s wet eyelashes, before he wiped the droplets from them, smiling at Bucky.

“Oh god, this water feels amazing.”

“So would you,” Bucky whispered.

“Huh?” Steve asked.

For a long moment, Bucky stared at Steve, realising that sound carried over water differently and Steve most likely caught what he said. Seducing someone was hard, even though he hadn’t even tried yet.

Instead of answering, Bucky ducked his head so his mouth went underwater and swam towards Steve like a shark, deciding that he just had to ask him point blank, no messing around with seduction. Slipping up out of the water at the last moment he put on his most predatory smile, Steve’s eyes widening and he looked around, face flushed and Bucky hoped he wasn’t looking for an escape.

He quickly darted behind Steve, wrapping his arms tight around his lithe body, trying not to linger too much as Steve was the perfect fit, felt so good against him; and when he heard the small gasp from Steve’s throat he launched him into the air. Flinging Steve into the water a few feet away.

“You fucker,” Steve exclaimed laughing as he came up for air, and Bucky smirked.

Suddenly with a smirk of his own that made Bucky inhale sharply, Steve disappeared under the water, Bucky feeling him come up underneath his body and with a strength that belied Steve’s small stature, completely turning Bucky on more than it should, he was pushed up out of the water, throwing him completely under as well.

“Jesus, Steve. You should join the team.” Bucky spluttered when he came up for air.

Steve grinned back, pushing wet hair out of his eyes and Bucky stared, lost in how stunning Steve looked in the sunlight, that he was there before him alone in the ocean full of people, “I mean they already have you and Sam as Captains. Wouldn’t want to put either of you out of a job.”

Bucky laughed, “I don’t doubt you’d do it too, Stevie.”

And when Steve stopped smiling, Bucky realised what he’d said.

“Shit, sorry - you don’t like that? Nicknames?”

“No I... I do…” Steve answered softly, and Bucky became lost in a blue that matched the water they were treading.

“Would you get out with me?” Bucky blurted.

“Sorry? Get out of the water?”

Bucky internally facepalmed himself. “No, I mean go out.”

“Out. With you?”

Bucky nodded.

“Err, why me?” Steve asked in a small voice lost on a gust of wind.

Looking at Steve, who stared back at him with questions in his eyes, Bucky wanted to explain how much he’d desired it for months, to tell Steve all the ways he wanted to make him happy, and as a multitude of words sat on his tongue, Bucky suddenly understood Steve might not listen to his reasoning, might not believe him. So he decided to show his intent instead, and swam closer. Steve’s eyes were wide, guileless, Bucky seeing a small spark of something more, and hoping he wasn’t triple jumping over a line, he swam up behind Steve. He felt Steve tense up, anticipating to be flung into the water again, but instead, Bucky pulled him closer so that Steve’s back slotted against his front and leaned in, mouth only an inch away from Steve’s ear.

“Why you? Oh Stevie, you have no idea how gorgeous you are. How much I want you.” Bucky pressed his nose against the back of Steve’s ear and inhaled deeply, sunscreen, salt and Steve’s shampoo filled his senses and he lost his head for a moment, especially when Steve let out a high pitched groan and wriggled back into Bucky. “I want to spread you out beneath me, I want to lick all the sweat off your body, sweat that I'm going to cause from working you hard, making you work extra hard for my dick, because Stevie - I want you, I want you bad, and I think you might want me back just as much.”

Bucky hoped he wasn’t completely off base with his desires, that Steve really was just as interested, and when Steve ground back against him, skin sliding against Bucky’s, letting out another moan at the friction when he felt Bucky hardening up underneath him, Bucky knew it was going to be ok.

“Yes…” Steve whimpered as his shorts caught against Bucky’s dick, pushing backwards.

“You want that baby?”

“Fuck. Yes, I do.”

“How much?”

Steve spluttered, and Bucky couldn’t help chuckle at the noise. “What do you mean?”

“How much do you want it?” Bucky knew he was being a prick, making his pec’s tense against Steve’s back, pulling him onto his lap as they floated in the water, before wrapping a leg around one of Steve’s pulling it to the side, making Steve gasp gorgeously.

“A normal amount,” Steve husked back.

“Oh, you want me a normal amount - is that all?” Bucky smirked before licking a sloppy stripe up Steve’s neck at the same time as he snuck a hand down the front of Steve’s swim trunks, gripping his dick tightly, feeling the impressive length and girth for the first time. Fuck, he was definietly not taking switching of the table. But not anytime soon. First, he wanted to take Steve apart in every way conceivable.

Steve meanwhile, was liquid in his arms, going slack as Bucky took his time to explore while they floated in circles not far from the shore, but far enough out they wouldn’t get in trouble. He hoped.

The moans tearing from Steve’s throat were getting louder though, Bucky loving every noise punched out of Steve as he stroked harder under the water, the friction and pressure of the water making him slower and more languid than usual. And Bucky wanted to make Steve call out with no thought or boundaries, nothing to stifle his pleasure, he needed Steve coming in his arms, again and again.

“I think you might just want me a little more than that.” Bucky rasped against Steve’s neck, sucking a bruise onto his pink skin, giving Steve’s dick another sharp tug and before he knew what was happening, Steve was shaking in his arms, whimpering out a release and Bucky was speechless. Utterly speechless as he continued to stroke Steve slowly, carefully as he jerked in his hand.

“Holy fuck, you’re stunning, gorgeous, the absolute best,” Bucky rambled into Steve’s neck, nipping kisses and pressing his lips against him in absolute awe at what had just occured.

Suddenly Steve moved, spinning himself around to straddle Bucky and he went under for a moment as their weights shifted and came back up spluttering, only for Steve to launch himself so his lips pushed against his. Steve took over, devouring his mouth, and although Bucky was the one in control, holding them both up, he’d never felt so out of control as Steve writhed and ground down as best he could in the water. Shit, Steve was going to be a handful and Bucky was there for it.

As he kissed back, grabbing the back of Steve’s head, holding him still as he pressed his tongue in deeply, a huge beach ball smacked into the side of his face. They jumped apart with a gasp.

“Don’t make me go get the hose!” Nat yelled out as she and Clint swam around nearby. “It’s about time you dolts wised up, but this is a public beach with you know - families.”

Bucky watched as Steve’s face flushed a perfect shade of red, and he couldn’t help but grab him again, giving him a quick intense kiss, claiming Steve until he struggled for breath, to show Bucky’s intent was clear and true. It was pure perfection.

“We’ll pick this up again later.” Bucky promised.

“Later.” Steve replied breathlessly.

Suddenly Steve pushed himself away from Bucky, grabbing and throwing the beach ball, hitting Clint dead on the nose. The surprised yelp from both Clint and Natasha made Bucky laugh.

“Oh it’s so on, James,” Nat yelled out.

Steve piped up from his side, “you wish, Romanoff - we’re gonna take you down!”

Bucky beamed.

“Yeah!” he called over to them, dodging the ball that came directly for him as Nat and Clint shit-talked. And as he and Steve swam out to retrieve the ball floating behind them, Bucky turned to Steve and gave him an overtly salacious wink. “And once we take them down, I’m going to take you home and show you what going down is all about.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Really? That was incredibly lame, especially for a savvy sex-crazed jock.”

“You’re not interested in my proposal then?”

“Oh I’m interested,” Steve grinned, licking his lips and Bucky caught his breath. “But if you’re going to use dad jokes on the regular - I might have to start calling you something else in the bedroom.”

Steve then threw the ball, Nat ducking at the last minute, and Bucky didn’t even feel when the returning pitch slammed into his head; Steve’s words creating a delicious cacophony of images and filthy thoughts in his mind instead.

Bucky had always known that Stevie Rogers was going to be both the life and death of him, and as he rubbed his head, grasping the ball in one hand, ready to throw it, he couldn’t wait to see where their adventure would take them.

But first - Clint had to pay.

#stucky #mywriting #friends to lovers #college #bottom Steve #implied switch #beach and fun #melting ice creams are a real issue for libidos #gift for Manda - the best and brightest of them all #prompt game #kalee answers

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years ago

Note

My brain told me I need something angsty, fluffy but also spicy today✋🏼 So uh could you pls write a small scenario where Iwa, Satori and Bokuto sees their s/o with someone who is actually flirting with them and they think that their s/o is cheating? Because its mostly where the reader thinks that the boys are cheating and I thought it would be interesting if its different this time 👀

Ngl anon reading this made my heart hurt a bit esp Bokuto I’m sensitive when it comes to him 😣 but only Tendō’s isn’t fluffy. I tried to make the other ones a bit fluffy. Mostly angst and spice. Bit of hcs + drabble mix again.

Hints of possessiveness, implied spiciness, Tendō has no shame

Miscommunication

Iwaizumi

> It’s Oikawa’s fault, as usual. He got sick the day before he promised to go with his sister to some orchestra show and to sightsee. It was supposed to be a bonding day for them, but he came down with the flu and Iwaizumi was kindly volunteered to take his place. As in Oikawa begged him.

> It was fine, they got ice cream afterwards and she wanted to take a picture to remember the day. He took the picture and sent it to the group chat, letting Oikawa know his sister was having fun. The boys all laughed and congratulated Iwaizumi for going on a date with such a “bombshell”, as Makki said.

> You think it was an accident, which makes the pain sting more. He’d share his cheating with his friends so easily, it’s sickening. You immediately shut off your phone after that, deciding to not deal with it.

> The next day, when Iwaizumi goes to greet you, you continue walking. It’s something everyone notices, but nobody says anything. Makki and Mattsun give each other similar looks of ‘oh shit’ while Oikawa is still missing.

> Once Oikawa is back to proper shape, you welcome him back with a big hug. It’s the most emotion you’ve shown all week and Iwaizumi gets pissed. He continues to ignore you, though. He finds it hard to continue, though, when you start flirting with Oikawa.

> Mattsun fills Oikawa in on the situation while a plan forms in Iwaizumi’s head. He knows he did something wrong, but what? He decides to apologize anyways. Not having you talk to him was putting him on edge, worrying him.

> The next day, Oikawa tells you Iwaizumi won’t be attending since he’s busy. At first, you got worried, but when Oikawa winked at you, your face felt hot as anger boiled. You figured it would come to this, but it still hurts more than you thought. Then, Oikawa tells you he forgot his knee pad and could you go get it for him. As the helpful manager, you oblige. It’s not like anyone is in the locker room.

“What’s this?” Your voice cracks as you stare at Iwaizumi. He’s standing in the room, holding flowers and an apology note. His face is a dark shade of pink, his eyes glancing at you before going back to the floor.

“An apology. I’m sorry for being a bad boyfriend,” he says, clearly and cleanly. His palms are sweaty, but he is able to at least speak properly. “I don’t know what I did—“

“Oh, please. You’re tired of me, I get it. You don’t have to go apologizing on my account. Shouldn’t you be with the brunette girl?” You feel hot tears streaming down your face, quickly wiping them away as Iwaizumi looks at you, dumbfounded.

“Brunette— do you mean Shittykawa’s sister?” A confused look crosses your face as he groans, running a hand down his face. “Fuck, I forgot to tell you. Shittykawa made me fill in for him and go sightseeing with his sister. He didn’t ask before telling her, but she watched over us as kids, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just hang out. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal,”

“Not a big deal, Hajime? Not a big deal? I honestly thought you were bragging! It didn’t help Makki was all like ‘oh man she’s so hot’ in the chat!” Tears are freely falling now, as your blink away the blurriness. “I thought you had just gotten tired of me,”

“Baby, no, never,” he shushes you, hugging you. It’s nice to be talking to him, wrapped in his arms. It’s a sweet and tender moment, relaxing in his hold as he whispers apologies and sweet nothings into your hair, shifting on the balls on his feet as you follow suit. It’s not until you’re pressed against the cold metal of the lockers do you look at him. His face sports a familiar look, one that always has your knees buckling to his command.

“Hajime, not now,” you whimper, feeling his warm hands sliding underneath your shirt. Had you been in your uniform, you’d most likely have his hand down your panties right now. He just presses a kiss to your temple, hands moving the waistband of your pants.

“I gotta remind you that I’m all yours, baby. And you’re all mine, so don’t ever go flirting with Shittykawa again,” he growls out, sending heat down to your core.

Tendō

> So first off, your relationship with him is on the down-low as in the only person outside the relationship who knows is Ushijima because Tendō cannot keep a secret from his BFF. You wanted it to be a secret because you did like him when he confessed, but your friends would tease you for dating him. Coach Washijo didn’t allow his player to date, so it was a secret relationship.

> However, when a girl ended up flirting with Tendō because she wanted a free pass to see the games, you wished it wasn’t so secretive. He was obviously flirting with her, enjoying the attention, while you listened from the girls’ bathroom. When he called her a “pretty lady” though? You felt your world shatter. He never called you that.

> The following practice, you passed by the gymnasium doors to see that girl standing outside them. A brief glance in her direction before continuing on your way, back to the dorms. You didn’t text Tendō the rest of the day.

> Tendō was frantically looking for you, wondering what he did wrong. When that girl was outside the gym and not you, he panicked. It was lunchtime, so he expected you to be in your class. When he got there, you were gone.

> He asked your friends, but they didn’t give him an answer, asking him “why does it matter?” So he went back to perusing the halls, looking for your familiar hair color or your voice. He heard a male’s voice first. Then your laugh.

> Turning a corner, he saw your hand on some guy’s bicep, a smile on your face. He recognized the stranger as the dude who tried to date every girl in his grade. Why were you talking to him? Another giggle had him moving towards the two of you.

“Why don’t you and I, I don’t know, meet up for some drinks after school? There’s a good milkshake joint nearby,” he grins, flashing his bright teeth. It would make most girls keel to his demands, but you’re different.

“Oh, I’d love to—“

“But she’s my girlfriend, loser,” Tendō sneers, his hand gripping your elbow as he drags you away.

“Tendō-san, what are you doing?” You attempt to resist his pulling, but he doesn’t let up. “I thought I was barely a classmate to you,”

“Yeah, well who gave you the right to flirt with some fuck boy?” He looks down at you, anger flashing across your face. The guy is still standing there, watching.

“Oh, I figured I wasn’t a priority to you. After all, you called that other bitch a ‘pretty girl’, so what’s up? I don’t get a cute name like that, except ‘girlfriend’?” You wrench your arm free. “Leave me alone, Tendō. Go to that other girl,”

“You mean Hana? Ōno Hana? The girl who’s crushing on Wakatoshi-kun?” He raises a brow. “As if she’d like me. I was complimenting her because she was anxious about talking to Wakatoshi-kun,”

“Well, it didn’t seem like that. I listened to the conversation. Leave me alone,”

“Why would I want her when I have a perfect little girl in front of me? Who else could trust me enough to bind them so tight, or who could cream on my fingers so easily?” He smirks as your face gets hot. A swift smack to his chest is useless when he turns to the guy, holding your arms. He maneuvers you to face the guy, smushing your cheeks together. “Tell him who you’re a good girl for, because it’s not gonna be him,”

“Tendō, this is so awkward,” your muffled voice comes out, dealing with his fingers pushing your lips together. “I’m not gonna say it,”

“Then he can watch as you cream on my fingers. Front row show, you know?” He snickers, moving his hand off your face and moving it underneath your skirt. A brief flash of your underwear towards the boy has you submitting properly, squirming as you practically shout what Tendō wanted you to say. “See, not that hard? Oh look— he’s running away! I hope he enjoyed the show!” Tendō waves happily, smiling all the while. You’re finally released from his hold.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you? Thinking you can go be a whore?”

“You want the relationship on the down-low! You wanted it to be a secret!”

“Well, if that means boys think you’re available, we’ll have to change that, won’t we?” He smirks, once again dragging you off. As he heads towards a closet, you know you’re not going back to class with steady legs.

Bokuto

> It was unusual for Bokuto to miss practice, so the managers and Akaashi were asking if you had seen him. You had not, but offered to go looking while everyone else started practice. Akaashi thanked you, leaving to fill in for his missing captain.

> Roaming the school, you checked the bathrooms to see if he was in there and even checked the classrooms to see if he fell asleep. When you didn’t find him, you went through checking the halls only to find him walking next to some girl with his arm around her shoulder. The scene hurt you, but a part of you knew he wouldn’t ditch practice and cheat on you, it was not in his nature.

> When the girl laughed at one of his jokes, you felt tears prick your eyes and ran off, back to the gymnasium where Akaashi was the first to greet you. You explained what you saw, after he took you to sit down on the bench, while the team continued. He said it probably wasn’t what it seemed like, but the scene kept replaying in your mind.

> The next day, you didn’t meet him on the roof for your normal lunch date so he got worried. Bokuto can usually read your moods, since you wear your heart on your sleeve, but he hadn’t seen you at all. He went looking for you, ignoring the strange looks he got as he ran through the hallways. Once he got to your class, he expected you to be sitting at your desk. Instead, he turned to your friends for help.

> One of them mentioned a dark haired student invited her to eat with him in his class and after he got a description, he went looking for the mystery man. He thought it might have been Akaashi, but he didn’t have brown eyes and a mole beside his right eye. It was finding a needle in a haystack, looking in each class until he saw your familiar hair color sitting in an unfamiliar class.

> He just kind of looked at you and the stranger through the window, watching as you laughed at the guy’s jokes. It was the same laugh you used at his jokes. It made an strange feeling in his chest burn, it made him jealous. Walking inside the classroom, you continued talking to the boy as he moved behind you.

> You closed your eyes for a moment but when you opened them, you saw the boy’s face drop as a shadow loomed over you. Looking behind you, you saw your boyfriend standing behind you. “Whatcha doing?” He asked. His voice seemed to be bright and cheerful, normal to the innocent bystander. To you, with the fake smile on his face, it sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

> He wanted to talk to you alone, a hand on your back as he guided you to the stairs leading to the roof. You tried to ask him questions, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t turn to look at you. He just stared forward as anger simmered in his chest and his eyes.

> Once the roof door had shut, you were roughly pushed against it as his eyes finally met yours. His eyes bore into you, demanding an answer.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why were you flirting with him? Do you no longer love me? Did I do something wrong? Are you tired of me?” As his questions poured out, the anger in his eyes melted into sadness, guilt forming into a ball on your chest. His hair drooped down as he put on his pouty face. “Do you wanna break up?”

“N-No! Not unless you want to, that is. I saw your arm around that g-girl in the hallway. I—“ you gulped, unshed tears on your lashes, catching the sunlight as you look at him. “I thought you were tired of me,”

“Why would I be tired of you? You’re the love of my life!” He shouts, you flinching as his booming voice made your ears ring. He apologizes, hugging you tightly into his chest. You do a heaving motion, fighting back the tears as his words play on loop in your mind. “I could never see anyone replacing you in my life,”

“That’s nice, Bo,” you mumble, rubbing your nose into his chest. It’s warm and comforting, a nice contrast to the brisk wind in the autumn air. When he moves, you look up to see him grinning at you, a glint in his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“We’re all alone and obviously my little bird needs to remember just who she belongs to,” he murmurs, rubbing his nose against yours before he quickly drops to his knees. It’s a sudden movement, his face in front of your skirt and then it’s under your skirt, a leg hooked over his shoulder. He’ll make sure you’re screaming his name before lunchtime is over.

#haikyuu x reader #BB.Kinky #tw.possessiveness #Mr. Kōtarō #Mr. Hajime #Mr. Satori #bokuto x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tendou x reader #BB.Requests #BB.Angst #BB.Floof #Iwaizumi.hcs #Bokuto.hcs #Tendō.hcs #haikyuu smut #ish

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dc41896 · 4 years ago

Text

The Whole Time?!

Pairing: Jake JensenxBlack Reader

⚠️: Maybe a tiny bit of technical angst (🤷🏽‍♀️ lol), fluff💕

“P-Pooch?,” you stammer unable to fathom that your supposedly dead brother was standing in front of you and his wife who was about to give birth to their son in any minute.

“Hey peanut,” he smiles stepping further in the hospital room. “I’d hug you, but I’m w-,”

You didn’t even let him finish before immediately wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. Good thing he was already wet from the rain, your tears would just be a welcomed addition.

“Wait. D-Does that mean-”

“Hey babe,” the all too familiar voice speaks making more silent tears fall as you lift your head. Just as soaked as Pooch, he nervously smiles removing his hat to reveal his spiked frosted tips. He pretty much looked the same as you last saw him. Toned arms and chest shielded by his dripping jacket along with your personal favorite, his black circular frames bringing even more attention to those crystal baby blues.

There were plenty of times you thought about what you’d do if granted this moment. Cry, scream, maybe jump into his arms clinging onto him like a koala on a tree. Possibly all three even. Now, finally being granted your wish after all these months, there was one main thing on your mind.

“Wow,” he smiles as you slowly move closer to each other. “I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow you’ve gotten more beautiful.” Just as the words left his mouth, the back of your hand connecting with his abdomen in the hardest hit you could muster nearly knocks the wind out of him as he keeled forward.

“And apparently stronger too..,” he coughs.

“How could you?!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! We had to so we could go after the guy who set us up. And why didn’t you hit Pooch?! He was in it too.”

“He’s got one coming after my nephew safely enters the world, right now though it’s your turn,” you glare before smacking him again.

“Told you she had a strong backhand,” Pooch states quickly closing the room door before his sister decided to direct her rage at him.

The rest of the team merely watch in entertainment as your hits move to his shoulders and biceps until Jensen can grab your wrists pinning them by your sides.

“I’m sorry for putting you through all that, but it’s not like I completely left! I could still see you.”

You tilt your head in confusion ready to ask what he was talking about, until seeing Clay nervously scratch the back of his neck as he and Cougar shift their gaze clues you in on what he meant.

“SERIOUSLY JAKE?!”

“Wha-? I-,”

“Did you really think that would make me feel better?!”

“...Honestly at this point I’m afraid to answer.”

Annoyed groan falling from your lips, you tried to escape his grasp, but his larger hands slightly tightening their grip on yours, along with him following your every movement, keep you in place. “When we go home I can explain everything.”

“Will you? Or are you just gonna lie some more?”

“I promise I’ll tell everything,” he whispers, leaving a chaste kiss on your temple before flashing one of his ‘please don’t stay mad at me forever because I love you’ smiles. So far, it’d gotten him out of any argument you had. Including this one.

Darn those good looks of his.

“Fine,” you reply as you cross your arms, leaving him to find a seat in the nearby waiting room.

“Any tips here Colonel?,” Jake sighs.

“I’m probably not the one you’d want relationship advice from.”

Another heavy sigh leaves his lips as he follows your path down the hall to sit next to you. That is if you’d let him.

“Okay, is anybody else stuck on the fact that Jensen actually has a girlfriend?,” Aisha states breaking the momentary silence and making both men chuckle.

———

It’s the happiest he’s ever been to walk into his small, outdated apartment. Things weren’t exactly the same as he left it with your few new decorations and pieces of furniture trying to make the place a bit of your own, but of course he didn’t mind. It actually warmed his heart that although he was “gone” you still chose to stay, sticking by his side when you easily could’ve moved on with your life.

“Jeez, the faucet always drip that loud?,” he lightly chuckles shedding his coat and placing it on the small hanger by the door.

“It started a bit after you left,” you sigh kicking off your shoes. “Think it’s loud now, it’s even louder when you’re just sitting here alone.”

Following you to the bedroom feeling like a dog with its tail between his legs, he sits at the foot of the bed looking down at his hands as you move about the bathroom getting yourself ready for bed. Your words were like the sharpest sting as his mind vividly showed an image of you just sitting in this apartment with nothing but thoughts of loosing your brother and boyfriend along with the hum of the AC. He knew for the sake of their mission, and the team, he couldn’t say anything, but it still didn’t take away his guilt of what you went through mentally and emotionally.

“I tried to write you.”

“What, your computer go down and you couldn’t watch me anymore?,” you counter over your shoulder before rinsing the soap from your face.

“That was only once okay? I was watching my niece’s soccer game and then I thought about what you were doing and kinda sorta hacked your office’s cameras, which yes I know was wrong. Speaking of, they really should update their software, a fifth grader could easily hack into it just guessing the password,” he answers making you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

“And who’s Tom?”

“Tom?”

“Yea. Curly brown haired guy, cubicle across from yours. Big head you can see a mile away.”

“I’m sorry are you somehow trying to turn things on me when you’re the one that’s supposed to be explaining why I’ve thought you were dead this whole time?,” you ask wiping the remaining moisturizer from your hands before crossing them in front of your chest as you step closer to the now nervous looking man.

“N-no, of course not! But I mean since he’s been mentioned...”

“He’s just this guy at work that apparently likes me and asked me out but I said no, because a small part of me kept hoping that you’d miraculously come back. Happy?”

“I-uh...y-yes?”

Sighing, you sit beside him tucking your bare legs under you and taking his hand in yours to trace the lines on his palm. You never knew how or why you started, but it was something you occasionally did while you two were talking or just lying next to him enjoying each other’s company. It brought a smile and giddy feeling to Jensen, just as it did to you.

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m giving you a hard time, I know you didn’t have a choice, and understand. Selfishly though, I just missed you so much and wish I could’ve known. It definitely would’ve saved some sleepless nights and tears.”

With his other hand, his thumb and index finger gently grab your chin guiding you to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through having you think I was dead. The second we threw our tags in that fire you and my family were all I could think about. Like I said I wanted to write and give you some sign that I wasn’t gone, but I could never figure out how to start. Plus Clay threatened to cut off little Jensen if I did send anything back home once he found out, which only made it tougher.”

“Yea we wouldn’t want that,” you softly laugh following a short sniffle you were trying to hold back. You really were done with crying, having done so since you got that devastating call so long ago, and just wished your tear ducts would shrivel up already. “Sorry, I thought I was done with the tears.”

“Shh, don’t be.” Leaning forward, his soft as clouds lips meet the single salty droplet in the middle of you cheek erasing its presence before moving to yours in quite possibly the most delicate, tender kiss you’ve ever experienced. Any other time, you’d probably call it painfully slow, trying to take the lead to move things along. But as you both sat there taking everything in from each other’s scents to the feel of how one’s lips and mouth felt on the other, you couldn’t feel more connected.

Just barely pulling away, his swollen lips rest centimeters above yours ready to take them again as soon as he caught his breath.

“I don’t know if I should be embarrassed at myself or amazed at whatever powers you have,” he starts, a light chuckle escaping him. “But I think you just made me-,”

“Jensen!,” you laugh, playfully smacking his shoulder. “Way to ruin a romantic mood.”

“If it’s romance you want, say no more,” he smiles taking your hand in his and placing it on his chest as he clears his throat. To the best of his ability, he begins singing the opening lines to your couple’s song, as Jake proclaimed it, instantly making you fall back on the bed in laughter.

“You actin' kinda shady, ain't callin' me baby, why the sudden change. Say my name, say my name!”

“This is definitely not a couple’s song,” you laugh feeling his forearms rest on either side of your head and chest vibrate from his laughing.

“I’ll admit lyrically wise..yes, you’re right. But it’s still ours which makes it special.”

You’d never forget that day in the grocery store trying to find a pint of your favorite ice cream as the song played overhead. Without really looking, you thought you were on the freezing aisle by yourself and began singing along as you gently bobbed your head. Suddenly hearing a voice singing the background vocals made you slightly jump turning to see the taller man in a grey sweatshirt, blue and white basketball shorts, and sneakers holding up his hands.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I-It’s Destiny’s Child, I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s okay, and I mean who can?,” you respond, both softly laughing before shyly looking back at your respective sections to get your frozen desserts.

“Soo...you like ice cream?,” he asks interrupting the momentary silence.

“Yea, um my favorite’s moose tracks,” you answer briefly holding up your pint with a smile.

“You know who has a good moose tracks? Bennie & Bailey’s downtown. They make it from scratch and I don’t know what all they put in it, but it’s amazing.”

“Oh, okay thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever been there.”

“Well you should definitely go one day. I mean if you want,” he nervously chuckles.

“Will do,” you smile. “Only if you’ll take me though?”

At first, being met with his shocked, speechless expression made your newfound confidence falter thinking you might’ve been too bold with the cute stranger, whom you hadn’t even asked if he was single or not. However seeing his eyes shine bright and adorable smile grace his pink lips, your excitement returned as he moved closer handing you his phone.

Years later, the rest is history as you lie in bed with the man you were sure was the love of your life.

“Hey what’s going on in there?,” he asks brushing his fingertips across your forehead noticing you become quiet. Lightly scratching his goatee, you feel your eyes start to water again causing you to blink a few times trying to keep them at bay.

“I just don’t want you to leave again,” you whisper, moving your fingers to card through his chestnut and blonde mixed strands.

“I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me too.”

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeydulcewrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @lovelymari4 @melinda-january @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

#jakexblackreader #jakexwoc #jakexreader #jake jensen #the losers movie #chrisxwoc #chrisxblackreader #chrisxreader #chris evans

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years ago

Note

I'm really struggling and hurting with what's going on in the fandom right now as im losing the only comfort i had in quarantine. could you please write something happy post-s5 catradora based on noelle's statement that once Adora realises she's in love with Catra she'd be SO into the reslationship?

((I get you, Nonners <3 *hugs* Again, white af, so I’m going to limit my comments, but - it isn’t all downhill from here. Try not to give up)) (((Disclaimer it’s almost 4am and my sleeping meds are kicking in, so I’m sorry if this isn’t completely coherent)))

Adora had never half-assed anything in her life.

And she’d be damned if she was going to start now, at a time when being fully on her game was more important than ever.

“I just want to do something for her!”

Bow practically had hearts in his eyes. Glimmer was a little less impressed. “I’m pretty sure if you just stayed in bed and napped together all day, she’d be happy.”

“I know, I know.” Adora sighed. “But that’s not - I want to do something good. Like, really show her that I love her.”

“Take a vacation.”

“Glimmer!”

“What? I’m serious,” Glimmer insisted. “If you just like... took an entire week off to do nothing but spend time with her, she’d probably be speechless. Which I would pay to see, by the way.”

Adora frowned, thinking it over. It was true that Catra would probably be floored by Adora taking a week off, no need for She-Ra or anything, just for her.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s enough? What should we do? What do people do on vacation?”

“You could just travel?” Bow suggested. “You know, get as far from Bright Moon as you can then call Glimmer for a ride back or something when you’re done.”

It was... actually a good idea, Adora thought. They’d spent their whole lives in the Fright Zone wondering what was beyond the Whispering Woods. They could actually see things now. They could see a world full of magic!

The happy thoughts died almost as quickly as they had started. “I... I dunno. I mean, it sounds great, but that would take more than a week, and-”

“Take a month,” Glimmer encouraged. “Take six months, honestly. You guys saved the universe. If anyone’s earned time off, it’s you.”

“That’s a lot of time.”

“And you’ve earned it,” Bow assured her. “Maybe not six months - I mean, you should take six months but I know that would drive you nuts. But take a month. Go places. Spend time together. I think it’d be good for you guys.”

Adora chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before slowly nodding and smiling. “Yeah. Okay.”

This whole thing had started with Catra not feeling like a priority in Adora’s life, after all. A month together would be the perfect way to show Adora she was invested and she cared. Perfect. * * * * * * * * * * * * Catra didn’t get back to Bright Moon that night. “Your cat passed out on my couch,” Mermista informed Adora flatly, turning the screen so Adora could see Catra curled up in a tight ball, sleeping.

“Is she... okay?”

“She’s dumb. Sea Hawk found her almost sick with heat stroke and had to drag her away from the house she was working on.”

Adora’s heart jumped to her throat. “She’s... She’s really trying hard to help with Salineas.”

“And I appreciate it,” Mermista admitted in a rare moment of genuine honesty. “But I’ll appreciate it less if she kills herself in the process. If she’s going to die, I should at least get the first shot.”

“Glimmer can come get her, if you want.”

“Nah, she already feels like hell. She can sleep it off on the couch.”

Adora scrubbed her eyes, smiling weakly. “Thanks, Mermista. Sorry, I guess I should’ve warned you, she gets really intense when she actually puts effort into things.”

“She’s not someone I would’ve pegged for a workaholic. Want me to wake her up to say... I dunno, good night or whatever you guys say to each other?”

“Nah, let her sleep.” Adora wanted Catra home, wanted to talk to her about a vacation, but she was sleeping, and that was more important than anything. She’d been exhausting herself for nearly a month working on Salineas. And while it was earning her some begrudging tolerant will with Mermista (who firmly believed actions were better than any apology Catra could ever say), Adora was worried. A vacation would really do her some good. * * * * * * * * * * * * Glimmer and Adora went to Salineas the next morning to get Catra. They thought it was reasonable to assume she was still sleeping off the heat stroke at the palace.

“Nope, she took off before I woke up,” Mermista said flatly when they found her. “Sea Hawk tried to find her, but he’s not exactly subtle about it, so she probably had plenty of time to hide.”

“Great.” Adora sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll... track her down.”

“Tell her if she’s going to keel over to get out of my kingdom. She can die on Bright Moon’s turf.”

“Tell her not to die,” Glimmer added.

“Yes, and yes.”

Mermista pointed Adora in the direction of where they’d found Catra yesterday. She approached a half built house, quietly climbing up the ladder at the side and finding Catra working on the roofing.

“Seriously?” she asked, resting her arms on the edge of the roof. Catra looked up, surprised.

“What?”

She looked exhausted, her face flushed red. Adora sighed. “Are you coming home any time soon?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She went back to work, distracted. “Sorry, I dunno what happened yesterday.”

“You made yourself sick working in the sun all day.”

“Sea Hawk overreacted.” Catra waved Adora off. “He’s just scared you’d kill him if you found he let me overwork myself.”

“Sooooo you’re admitting it?”

“No, that’s just his logic.”

Adora shook her head. “Come on, take the day off and come home. I wanna talk to you about something.”

“I really need to finish this.”

There was a weird moment where Adora thought she understood how Catra had felt for years. Catra had been working nonstop on Salineas for a month, and Adora was starting to feel a little ignored.

But she also understood Catra’s side. She took a deep breath, hauling herself up onto the roof and crawling over to Catra, gently putting her hand on Catra’s and stopping the hammer. “Hey. I get it, okay? But you’re not responsible for fixing all of Salineas.”

“Actually, I kind of am,” Catra replied bitterly. She was far too warm for it to be comfortable.

“I’m pretty sure Hordak could stand to take a little more responsibility than he has.” Adora couldn’t help but be a bit bitter about that. He had mostly stayed in Dryl, working with Entrapta on tech that would help with the rebuilding process. And that was great and all, but it wasn’t much compared to Catra being out here every day working herself half to death.

Catra let out a long sigh, finally relaxing her hand. “I just... need to do this, Adora. Okay?”

“I get that, but you don’t need to do it at the expense of your own health. And yes, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Adora squeezed her hand. “And that’s okay. Have you eaten anything?”

“No.” The honesty was nice.

“Did you skip eating because you felt sick?” Catra nodded. “Okay. So... you can leave with me, or Mermista can wash you out to sea so you don’t die in her kingdom.”

Catra looked around, and sighed, finally nodding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Getting her back to solid ground was a bit dicey, but she held herself up and managed to walk back to the palace without much help.

“She lives,” Mermista said dryly when they arrived back at the palace. Glimmer smiled, although she couldn’t hide her worry.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Catra smothered a yawn, scrubbing her eyes.

“Picture of health all right,” Mermista deadpanned. “Look, you built like, an entire neighborhood on your own. Come back when you’re not burning up.”

Glimmer rested a hand on Catra’s shoulder, wincing when she felt the heat radiating off of her. Adora took a moment to whisper, “Thank you for taking care of her,” to Mermista. The princess shrugged.

“Yeah, you know. Whatever.”

Catra was not happy with the teleport back to Bright Moon. Glimmer put them close enough to the bed so she could drop straight onto it, groaning. Good luck, the queen mouthed before disappearing. Adora went to the bathroom, wet a washcloth with cold water, and returned to the bed, resting the cloth on the back of Catra’s neck. She shivered.

“Cold.”

“Yes, because you’re burning hot.” Adora settled in next to her. “So, I had an idea, and I already know you’re going to argue with it, but hear me out.” Catra hummed in affirmation. “I was thinking we should take some time off. You and me. I was thinking traveling, but now I’m thinking maybe go visit Frosta and spend a week in the snow.”

“Oh hell no,” Catra muttered. “I am not going anywhere with snow. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But you’re agreeing to the vacation?”

“I dunno.” Catra raised her head. “When? Can it wait until Salineas is-”

“No.” Adora gently clasped Catra’s face in her hands. “I know this is hard for you, but you can’t hurt yourself trying to fix things. That won’t accomplish anything, and nobody wants to see you hurting, not even Mermista.”

Catra looked ready to argue, but something in her expression flickered. “You’re willing to take time off just to do nothing?”

“Not nothing. To spend time with you. We can hold each other accountable. You keep me strapped down, and I’ll lie on top of you to make sure you don’t run off to Salineas.”

Tears slowly filled Catra’s eyes, and Adora panicked for a moment before Catra spoke. “You’d... really take time off to spend time with me?”

“Of course.” Adora kissed her gently. “I love you, Catra. And I know we’ve been through a lot and done a lot that doesn’t really... support that, and I want to prove it now. And I want to take care of you.”

The moment of silence between them was comfortable. The same silence they could have spent hours in at one point in their lives. “I love you too,” Catra finally murmured. “Maybe taking some off to spend together wouldn’t be so bad. If only to see you try and relax.”

“Ha. Ha.” Adora grabbed the washcloth and began gently wiping Catra’s face. “Glimmer gave us a month, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy if we want to take more. Let’s start with getting you better, then we can figure out what we want to do from there. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra snuggled into Adora’s chest, taking a deep breath. “That sounds good.”

It had worked. Adora couldn’t believe it. “So uh... I’m doing this relationship thing pretty good, huh?”

Catra snorted, reaching up to push her face away. “Get over yourself.”

#catradora #catradora fic #Mystery Person #Sam Answers #askbox fic

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for-a-muse-of-fire · 5 years ago

Text

and that kind of love

the wench and the witcher

“and that kind of love”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader

Summary: Geralt hits town in the middle of the Lammastide festival, Reader is a handsy, toppy drunk, and the witcher is here for it.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY - Reader is a slutty drunk with a dirty mouth. Subby!Geralt if you squint a little.

A/N: I love these two so muuuuuch, they are a blast and soft!Geralt is probably my new favorite thing to write. Getting him back to taciturn and grumpy is going to be a feat, I can tell you that much, but the bastard deserves to have something like real affection in his life. Fully written with Hozier’s “Dinner and Diatribes” on repeat. Have fun, y’all!

@c-s-stars; @pantrashtic; @onyour-right; @coconutxraikage; @gczanetti1; @ly-canthrope; @alwaysnatz; @kianya-loves; @kingniazx

Honey I laugh when it sinks in

A pillar I am upright

Scarcely can speak for my thinking

What you’ll do to me tonight.

He hears the revelry before he sees it. Music drifts in clips and phrases from the town square, accompanied by shouts of mirth and rhythymed applause. He’s tempted to take the long way about, avoid stares and whispers, but curiosity gets the better of him. No harm in a look.

“C’mon, Roach,” he mutters to the mare at his side.

Garlands of wheat and autumn blooms decorate some of the archways over the homes he passes. He can smell cider, mulled wine, and roasting meat as he follows the noise. An alley cat sees him coming, hissing and darting away, but the first human he encounters actually waves in greeting. The next few people follow suit, and Geralt tries to respond normally – he’s been coming through for months, most folks seem to have gotten used to him, but the lack of bald-faced hostility still throws him for a loop.

Witcher and horse round the corner and it’s quite a sight. The setting sun casts everything in warm, golden light and the music coming from the small troupe set up nearby is lively and loud. A knot of villagers have opted to dance, bobbing and weaving in swirling circles in tempo with the upbeat gavotte. Those who aren’t dancing clap along and shout encouragement. Tables have been dragged out from homes, festooned with woven stalks of wheat and piled high with the spoils of the harvest. The witcher hangs back from the vaguely organized chaos, content to be spectator while he searches the cheerful masses for a familiar – and much missed – face.

“Geralt!”

He hears the crow of your voice, sees a flash of wild curly hair dart through the crowd, and then you are actively leaping at him. You hit hard enough to rock him back a step, arms flung tight around his neck; Roach gives an irritated whinny of surprise, but the borderline violent affection makes Geralt grunt out a laugh. He wraps his free arm around your waist, lifting until your toes just dangle off the ground.

“Hello,” he replies with only a slight wheeze. He takes a moment to bury his face in your hair and inhale the scent of honey and sweet herbs before you lunge in and kiss him, hard. Geralt’s eyes shoot wide open, then drift closed. You lick at his lower lip – he opens his mouth to you with a rumbling sigh, brain going a little fuzzy when he feels your fingers tangle in his hair.

You taste like brandy. Good brandy.

Ah, the enthusiastic greeting makes sense now.

“You’re drunk,” he mumbles against your lips.

You pull away with an actual giggle and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. You’re very drunk – bright-eyed and slightly uncoordinated once he sets you down. It’s fucking adorable.

“I am…” you start to argue, and immediately dissolve into giggles again. “Well, yes, yes I am drunk but it’s Lammas and I’m having fun and gods, you’re back!”

He accepts another brutal show of affection laughing into your hair as you seem to be attempting to crush his ribs in. A snort from Roach draws you away – you give a delighted gasp, as if you’ve never seen his damned horse before and something around his heart squeezes tight. You take the bay mare’s lead from his hand and she nickers happily, nuzzling at your skirt for treats.

“Hello, Roachie,” you coo sweetly. “How’s my favorite girl? Hello, gorgeous…”

Geralt never imagined he would ever be jealous of a horse, but here he is.

Roach gives you an insistent thump with her long head, making you squawk out a laugh before you finally pull an apple from your pocket. Your graceful brown fingers scratch the horse’s forelock as she munches happily on the fruit, and Geralt is certain that he looks like a bit of a fool, staring at you like he is. You manage to stop fawning over Roach long enough to catch the witcher looking; the smile that spreads over your face makes his slow heartbeat kick.

“Let’s get you two home, hm?” you murmur. “You must be tired.”

He clears his throat, nodding back to the festivities. “You don’t want to stay?”

Something mischievous flashes behind your dark eyes. Your teeth catch at the fullness of your lower lip; Geralt finds he has to clear his throat again.

“No,” you tell him softly. “I don’t think I do.”

He takes Roach’s lead and follows you out of the square. Your stride is a bit loose, a bit meandering and he tries to listen when you talk, really, but you keep wandering ahead of him and the sway of your backside is distracting. Roach is settled in the small stable off of the tavern, and then you’re pulling him through the back door with a low laugh.

The heavy door slams shut behind him and suddenly he’s pushed up against it with your mouth on his and your fingers in his hair. He grunts, startled, until those clever fingers of yours tug and make him shiver. With a low groan, he wraps his arms around your waist to crush you closer. You kiss him with a selfish kind of hunger that steals the very breath from his lungs. The hands in his hair start to wander, relieving him of his sword belts, and then his cloak – both end up on the floor somewhere – before you cup his face, thumbs running over his cheekbones. He licks the taste of brandy from your mouth, swallows down your breathless little noises and then you’re grabbing at his waist, pulling the shirt up from the waistband of his trousers.

Your hands slip around his back before taking a firm grip on his ass – it makes him jump and laugh against your lips. “Never pictured you for a handsy drunk,” he mutters.

You grope him again with a positively sinful giggle and Geralt feels the remaining blood in his brain rush due south. He nearly stumbles forward when you pull away, but you promptly grab at his hand, all but dragging him through the empty tavern and up the stairs. You manage to squirm away each time he gropes at you, much to his annoyance, but he doesn’t mind so much when you haul him into your bedroom and shove him back against the door. A few desperate tugs on his shirt and he gets the hint, pulls back just enough to whip the fabric over his head and toss it gods know where. You’re panting against mouth, grabbing at his waist and his ass before your hand finds its way into the front of his trousers.

Geralt’s head thuds back against the door and you hum low in his ear. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember how breathing works as you lay biting kisses from his neck to shoulder, then all the way down his torso. You scrape your teeth at his hip bone and he swears. He feels you pull at the laces of his trousers; there’s a rush of blessedly cool air over his cock, followed by heat and wet and –

"Oh, fuck.”

His eyes fly open and very nearly chokes on his own tongue. The sight of you on your knees, lips stretched around him is something he wants to burn into his memory forever. You stare up at him with wide, dark eyes; he feels the hot press of your tongue on the underside of his cock and grits out a moan. One shaking hand reaches down to tangle in your curls and you hum at the feeling. The noise buzzes over him and dear gods, he’s going to embarrass himself if you do that again.

You start to move. He curses lowly. Heat flickers sharply up his spine and Geralt has to fight to keep from thrusting into the wet suction of your mouth, but then you push forward until your nose brushes his pelvis. His legs shake and you do it again, humming once more, and he swears he’s going to keel over. His hips arch towards you almost of their own accord.

“Sweetheart,” he groans brokenly. “M’gonna – fuck me – you’re gonna want to stop before…”

He looks down at you. You pull back, grip him in your hand, and meet him with a smile so sweet it makes his heart stop.

“I want you to,” is all you tell him before you swallow him down.

Geralt gives a shout and comes - hard - on your tongue. He’s grateful for the solid door at his back, because he can’t feel his legs. Panting, he forces his eyes open as you stand and back away. You hold his gaze, absolutely brazen as you strip out of your bodice, skirts, and slip before toeing off your boots. There’s just enough daylight left for him to stare, take in your glorious nakedness, and stare he does.

You meet his gaze, biting at your spit-slick bottom lip and he’s half hard already. “I missed you, Geralt of Rivia,” you all but purr. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes,” he growls out.

“Then come here to me.”

He does as he’s told.

You are soft and warm, smelling of sweet, clean skin along with the heavy scent of your arousal. The last of his clothing is all but torn away, boots kicked across the room and then he presses you back until you’re spread out for him on the bed. He covers you with his weight, spreading your thighs open with his knees, but you only let him have the upper hand for a moment. You give him all of a heartbeat to be impressed by the way you push him onto his back, and then he feels the hot, slick press of your cunt against him.

He watches breathlessly as you take hold of his cock, shift back, and sink down. The gripping heat makes him swear and clutch at your hips as you settle your weight. Your face is slack with pleasure, brow furrowed and beautiful mouth dropped open as you gasp. He feels you flutter hotly around him and it makes the breath catch in his throat; he squeezes at your hips. You stare down at him, pink tongue darting out to wet your lips before you take his hands, prying them away from you.

You press his wrists down to either side of his head and roll your hips. Geralt grits out your name on a moan.

The rhythm you find is slow, a steady grind of your hips against his and all he can do is watch as you take what you want. You’re hot, and wet and so gods damned tight around him, clenching and moaning when you find an angle that suits you. It would be so easy to take back control, but when you lean forward to bite your way along his jaw, he finds that that is the last thing he wants to do.

When you finally kiss him again it’s filthy, all tongue and mingled breath. He bites at your lip before licking the sting away – it makes you grip around his cock with a gasp, and he groans in return. Your pace quickens.

“Geralt,” you whine against his mouth – fuck, you’re going to be the death of him. “Gods, Geralt, you feel so good. Always feel so fucking good inside of me – fuck, yes.”

In the growing twilight, your skin glistens with sweat. The grip on his wrists finally lets up when you move to cup his face instead; you push back hard against him and he chokes on a moan. He feels your thighs begin to tremble around his hips, the noises spilling from your mouth climb higher in both pitch and volume. He grips one hand at the back of your head, tugging sharply at your hair – the other hand slides between your sweat-slick bodies to find the swollen little bud at the top of your sex.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he hears himself snarl. “Come on – give it to me, come on.”

You crash your lips down onto his, muffling your scream as you come. The pulsing clutch of your cunt drags him along with you; Geralt gives a ragged shout, as his body goes taught and his eyes screw shut. His ears are fucking ringing.

He definitely can’t feel his legs.

It takes a good amount of time before he can breathe without gasping and actually pry his eyes open. You are sleepy-eyed and sated on top of him, curls limp with sweat. He gives a low, pleased hum when you stretch out over him, hands braced over his shoulders. The skin of your legs is wonderfully smooth under his palms.

“Did I mention how much I missed you?” you whisper.

“Hmm,” he chuckles roughly. “I think you might’ve, yes.”

The smile you give him is… heart-stopping. Geralt finds himself staring outright, a little awestruck by how damned lovely you are. He lifts a hand, brushing his knuckles softly over your cheek before taking gentle hold of your chin.

“Better show me again,” he rumbles against your lips.

#geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x woc reader #geralt x poc!reader #the witcher netfilx #geralt of rivia #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles #fanfic #fanfiction #henry cavill

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trenchcoatkitten · 5 years ago

Note

6 for tododeku? 💗

#6 “It's you.” Todoroki / Midoriya

pls im so goddamn soft,, syl I would die for you

my freeze ray came on when I started writing this okay thats where the vibe comes from im so sorry im too soft

from this prompt thingyyy!!

enjoy!! !~~~~

xxx

It's past midnight. Technically, if they're caught, they'll be sent back to their dorms. Todoroki trusts that Aizawa wouldn't be too angry, though. They're not doing anything bad.

“I can't believe I'm not the only one on the last pair of underwear,” Midoriya giggles, pulling his basket a little closer to himself to finish loading his clothes into the washer. Todoroki has finished loading, he's trying to remember how much detergent to put in. Last time he put in way too much and broke the machine on the end. He left it like that and shrugged when someone asked if he knew how it happened, too embarrassed to tell them he had no idea what he was doing.

“I've been putting it off,” He murmurs, and Midoriya giggles again.

“Me too. With Aizawa's tests – oh! How did you feel about that last pop quiz? Did you have the question about hero popularity? I know everybody had different questions in some areas – I don't know why he does that – but I thought it was a really interesting question...”

Todoroki listens to Midoriya ramble on, a small smile on his face. He has put in enough detergent to get his clothes clean but nowhere near enough, too embarrassed to ask how much is appropriate. He leans on the machine and just watches Midoriya as he works and talks, his friend's head framed by one of the windows of the dryers behind him – someone's clothes rolling inside. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, the long day of training, the late hour – but it looks like a halo, ringed around Midoriya's curls.

Tell him how he makes you feel.

It shouldn't be that hard, should it? He knows that Midoriya is different – that his feelings for Midoriya are different. He doesn't feel like an idiot around other people. Like a fool. He doesn't get that sick feeling in his stomach around his other classmates. He never has this urge to grab onto others with one hand and grab the world with the other, stopping the spinning of the earth so he can have one extra moment with them.

Only Midoriya.

He's not sure what it's about – about Midoriya's smile, or his freckles, or his eyes, or his heart. Maybe it's his biceps, or his hands, or his abs. Or maybe it's how he makes Todoroki want to be the best version of himself that he can be.

“Or maybe it’s the hair,” He mumbles to himself, distracted by dark green curls in the soft light of the laundry room.

“What?” Midoriya asks, turning his eyes curiously on Todoroki, who flushes.

“It's the air,” He says, louder. He feels like he's going to keel over and die of embarrassment. “That's why training is harder. The air. Is hotter. Because. It’s closer to summer.”

Midoriya stares at him for a moment longer, and then he laughs. “Maybe you're right. I thought it might be because we're closer to graduation but I actually think you have a really valid point, it's way hotter now and it's harder to breathe, and – whoa, Todoroki-kun?”

Todoroki isn't sure how he got across the room. But now he's standing at Midoriya's side, entirely too close, like he never heard about personal space once in his life. He looks down at Midoriya, studying him, as Midoriya looks up with wide eyes.

He thinks he gets it, now, standing here and looking into those eyes. It's not his eyes, it's not his hair, it's not any one thing that he's done or said. Or, rather, it is. But it's all of it. It's every single thing. It's...

“It's you,” He says quietly. The washing machines rumble quietly in the background, but Todoroki can mostly hear the beating of his own heart in his ears.

Midoriya's eyes round out even more – he doesn't understand. Todoroki doesn't really understand how to tell him, either. What do people do in this situation, finally realizing the extent of their feelings, finally knowing just how much and why they want to grab this person around the middle and kiss them until they can't remember the day of the week?

Come to think of it, Todoroki doesn't actually know the day of the week anyways. He blinks, trying to redirect his thoughts. He needs to figure out what the hell he's doing, what the hell he's going to do, hovering over Midoriya like this, probably scaring the shit out of the poor guy.

“W-what did that mean?” Midoriya manages. “What about me?”

“It's you,” Todoroki repeats, as though that'll help. “You're the one, Midoriya. It's always been you.”

He's pretty sure that this is only more cryptic, but Midoriya stares at him, wide eyes going slightly glassy with tears. “D-does that... does that mean what I think it does, Todoroki-kun?”

“I hope so,” Todoroki mumbles, hand coming up on it's own accord, tucking a strand of Midoriya's hair behind his ear. Midoriya tucks his face into Todoroki's hand, cheeks warm. Todoroki cools his hand, trying to cool his face as well, and Midoriya lets out a soft, cute little sigh. “I... like you. You make me feel like an idiot,” He adds, which is probably not the best thing to say, but Midoriya laughs, and Todoroki has no regrets. Not a single one. If every terrible decision he’s ever made has led him to this point in life, this moment in time, this space in the world, he’d make them all again. Over and over. Without fail.

“You make me feel like an idiot too,” Midoriya says, face red, but he puts his arms shyly in Todoroki's hoodie pocket, tugging him closer. “Todoroki-kun.”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki says, and he leans down.

Their clothes don't finish for a long time. Or, maybe, those doing the laundry just forget to move them to the dryer, too distracted by other things. Things that are way more important.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #tododeku #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #prompts #my writing #i love them #im so soft #there are so many dr horrible references in this #im so sorry #oof #i love themm aaaaaa

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years ago

Text

Like Ghosts In Snow

Midoriya x Reader (Vampire AU)

Warnings: Blood mention, death mention, suggestive themes, light yandere??? (idk bro he was pretty much a yandere throughout the fic)

A/N: This is the last chapter I’ll be adding to one of my first fics and I wanted to share it mostly because I am actually proud of it, but also because after I posted this chapter, I went back and reread the first few chapters and... woof. All I can say is that I’ve come a very long way. It’s kind of a good reminder that all writers start out from somewhere. I know I’ve said this on my blog dozens of times, but I cannot stress this enough: in order to get better at writing, you need to W R I T E. I want to guess that I’ve written at least 500 pages of story in the last year and a half, and though I pride myself on my ideas and certain one-liners, not everything is very pretty. I can admit it. It be like that. I’ve grown since I first picked up the pen (or if we’re being literal, the phone) and it’s okay! I’m happy with where I’m at and I’ve even more excited to see how I’ll improve within the next year, too! Anyways, read this if you want! There are major plot spoilers in this last chapter, obviously, but if you wanna learn what happens the chronological way, you must brave my writing circa 2018 :’). I wanted to say thank you all for joining me on this wacky, messy, bloody journey and I hope you enjoy.

“We’ve got The Cramps, Joy Division, The Doors…” Izuku hummed shifting through another stack of cassette tapes. “Oh! How about Bowie?”

The sounds of clattering pins rang in Izuku’s ears. While he was looking through music to listen to on the upcoming journey, you were looking for accessories— different pins and patches to place on yours and Izuku’s jackets and bags.

“Bowie?” You asked with obvious interest. “What album?”

“Low.”

“Ah… Grim and ethereal… sounds that make the listener think about their own mortality, and the inevitability of non-existence…”

You took a pensive pause, considering the album. Izuku loved that you thought about music so thoroughly. All Might’s comic book store has become home to you just as it had been with him. He loved the comfort he felt with you around. He felt home with you here.

“Perfect for driving through the desert,” Izuku mused, fingering the tape.

“Exactly,” you said, and Izuku could hear the grin in your voice. The two of you were exactly in sync— perfect for each other.

Music played on a record player the two of you decided to leave at the store as Izuku neatly placed the cassette with the rest he’d collected. He looked to you. You were slowly swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat that bounced around the second floor to the comic book store. Izuku’s eyes grew heavy as he silently watched you, appreciating the way your body moved even when you didn’t think you were being watched. He dropped the bag to the floor.

Izuku looped his arms around your waist, closing his grasp on your stomach. He leaned into you, inhaling your aroma; it was sweet like wildflowers and jasmine. Izuku closed his eyes and hummed, “dance with me…”

You let out a light chuckle, a sound Izuku adored, a sound he could never get enough of. “How many times are you going to ask me to dance with you until we finally get this show on the road?”

“Not enough.” Izuku kissed the back of your neck and you shuddered. He did so again, pressing a hand against your stomach, and you finally turned to face him, your cheeks lightly dusted in familiar warmth. He grinned and took your hand into his, bringing it up to his lips so he could peck your strong knuckles, looking up at you through thick, dark lashes. “Dance with me.”

You brought your arms around his shoulders and grinned. Izuku grew warm when you closed the space between the two of you, your soft body against him making him pulsate in all the right places. “How could I say no when you show me a face like that?”

Triumph coursed through Izuku’s now active veins as the two of you danced in circles inside the closed space. Your beautiful laughter battled the music as he twirled you around, relishing the moment you came back into his arms and buried your head into his shoulders. He had you. He had you, because you chose him. You came back from a plane unknown to live the rest of your undefinable days dancing and hunting with him. Not Todoroki and certainly not Kacchan. Him.

“What song is this?” You asked into his shoulder.

Izuku pursed his lips. He’d certainly heard the song before, but he couldn’t recall its name, nor what band was playing. For once in his life, he was at a loss for information, because nothing in this world existed outside of you. Hell, all the best songs in the world could be renamed after you if he had any say in it.

Izuku muttered something indecipherable, knowing too well that you didn’t actually want to know the name of the song, you merely wanted to add conversation to battle against the inevitable.

His hands slid down your back and he could feel your heartbeat pickup against his chest. At one point of his second life, the sound of your heart working to push blood through your veins would have sent him to the absolute edge, throat scorching and body aching with lust and need and thirst. Now that thirst was replaced by something less like famine and more like a greedy craving, the lust he kept for you and only you as prominent as ever. You gazed up at him and bit your lip. Your hand ghosted across his cheek, drifting to the back of his neck. Your touch was a whisper in a language he knew very well.

You loved him. You wanted him.

You stood up in your tiptoes to brush your lips across his. It was a simple peck— one that intended to be sweet, but one that didn’t fail to make Izuku even more desirous, wanting more. Whenever he had a taste of you, he’d always need more. You knew that. And so Izuku moved.

He pushed you back against the lapel pin counter, kissing you urgently as he wedged his knee between your thighs. You sighed into him, allowing Izuku to roll his tongue over yours, tasting you, basking in all that you were willing to give. A cool hand made its way under your shirt. You moaned as Izuku peppered kisses towards your neck, laving his tongue across one of the few scars that stayed present even after both of your changes. The scar was cool underneath his tongue. Your fingers knitted into the back of his curly locks when he bit down on a place that remained untouched, and you moaned again, lips tightly pressed together in hopes to not give yourself away to the man downstairs. Still, your legs wrapped around Izuku and Izuku sucked harshly in an attempt to break your resolve, because to him, there was no man downstairs; there was only you, and he wanted to hear what he could do to you.

“What if he catches us?” You whispered in a low, breathy way, your voice breaking at the word ‘catch.’ It was adorable when you tried to keep yourself a secret. It was hot when Izuku revealed that secret.

“He won’t.” Izuku quickly retorted, again latching his lips to yours while he fumbled with the buttons of your blouse, although, he couldn’t know for sure. He just didn’t care. He kissed your collarbone, your right breast, then your left, pausing only to peek up at your flustered expression and while he listened to the rapid pace your heart took. Your pupils were blown, probably mirroring his. He loved that— your mutual hunger for one another. Izuku knew he had won when you lightly pushed his head farther down, and Izuku happily obliged to take your unspoken demand.

“KIDS!” A familiar bellow shook the room even though it seemed light years away.

Izuku rubbed his cheek on your soft thigh, licking his lips as he took in you. His fingers pet you through thin cotton materials and he could nearly keel over a die when he felt the saturated evidence of your desire. He wanted so badly for you to say, ‘ignore him and play with me. I need you, Izuku. I need you now.’

“Izuku—“ you objected as his thumb teased circles around your peak. Defiantly, his tongue ran up your thigh and he pressed deeper against you, hoping that with his touch, you’d be just as lost in him as he was you.

“ARE YOU DONE?!”

“Yeah!” You called back, and Izuku’s head fell onto your leg. Betrayal, defeat, anguish. Izuku huffed.

“Awww, c’mooon,” you cooed, lifting Izuku by his chin to meet your face, “don’t be pouty! We’ll have plenty of time to continue this on the road!”

“Like in the back of the Jeep?”

You pressed your lips together. Izuku could only assume what you were thinking. You didn’t want to sleep with him in that red Jeep either because it would be disrespectful to your late, adoptive-father, or the thought that your father may have done the do in that exact spot back in his prime was a serious turnoff.

“Erm. Maybe like a motel or a tent or something.”

Izuku huffed again. You grinned, your eyes crinkling at the sides and he could only assume what you were seeing. Instead of a seductive vampire with heavily lidded eyes that drew lust out of his victim with a simple flick of his tongue, you were seeing a grumpy puppy, cheeks puffing out and skin blooming pink because he wasn’t getting what he wanted. Oh, how his face betrayed him. Oh, how he missed being one hundred percent creature of the night. There was nothing cute or sweet or childish about a man who’d stalk you in a dark alley in order to satiate his need. There was only fear, lust, and sex.

That didn’t mean that creature was completely lost to him, though you didn’t yet have to know just how much vampirism still resided in Izuku. He would show you, of course, but that was something he’d have to do little by little to keep you from fretting. It was something he could do now.

Izuku squeezed your thighs and looked you straight in the eyes. “Say that you love me.”

“I do, Izuku-“ one of your hands went to cup his face “-I love you.”

Izuku mimicked your motion, his sweet voice lowering into a darker octave. “Say that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered back, and Izuku was keenly aware of how your heart fluttered in your chest. “Forever and always.”

Izuku leaned into you, but kept himself bare centimeters from your lips. He watched you part for him, expecting a kiss, but instead he stayed there and watched you struggle to get what you wanted. He pushed his pelvis against you, and you let out a slight gasp when you felt just how much he wanted to ravage you, then and there.

“‘Zuku,” your voice was almost a whimper, a tease for what he’d be expecting later on in the night or very early in the morning. Your nails dug into his shoulder as he dragged his tongue across your lush, bottom lip. He eyed you and waited for you to start your own list filled frenzy. When you did, Izuku stepped away from the table, right when you were about to shove your back lips onto his.

“Okay!” He chirped merrily, knowing too well how his face could change into that of devilish innocence in a blink of an eye. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

You scoffed. “That’s not nice!”

Izuku smirked and headed towards the stairs. It only took a couple seconds to get you bounding after him, latching onto his hands and muttering profanities under your breath. Izuku could laugh. Even when he loses, he wins.

All Might was sending the two of you on your first hunting trip together. It was exciting for several reasons: you and Izuku were going to be alone together, the two of you were the vampire slayer’s apprentices (although, Izuku still held the claim of being a slayer prodigy) so you had everything a hunter’s heart could desire, and, again, you were going to be alone together.

All Might slammed a duffel bag onto the store’s counter, the motion letting out clinking, metallic sounds. It wasn’t cassette tapes and enamel pins in the bag that All Might prepares for you. Izuku wondered if you were nervous. He’d gone on trips before, but this was your first time. Of course, you had nothing to worry about. Izuku was never, not ever, going to let anything hurt you. He’d already made the mistake of letting that happen once when he had his back turned to you on Hizashi’s cliff, and he would not be letting that happen again.

All Might bid the two of you farewell with some tips and tricks that Izuku had already known. You looked so cute absorbing all the information you could though and Izuku was jealous. He’d make sure that he became more of a teacher to you while you were on the road.

You insisted on carrying the duffel bag to the Jeep, explaining that you weren’t fragile and that you could hold your own. Izuku insisted that he would drive, explaining that he could see better at night, although he left out the part that he really wanted to carry your sleeping body into your shared motel room.

You clambered into the passenger seat, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement. You’d expressed plenty of times how badly you missed being on the road, and it was clear to Izuku as you sifted through all your borrowed cassette tapes how good this was going to be for you. Your good mood was infectious.

“What should we listen to first?” You asked, pulling out your top three choices.

“Whatever you want!” And Izuku meant it. There was still so much to learn about you and though you both had plenty of time on your hands, Izuku was impatient. He wanted to know everything. You seemed to choose something at random, but when you popped open the cassette player, you saw that there was something in there already.

“Oh,” you said, looking wistful. Whatever it had been, it was Aizawa’s. Izuku struggled to read your mood.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Mix tape.”

Boldly, he suggested, “we could… listen to this first…”

“Yeah…” you paused before pushing the tape back in. There was a click. Izuku started the engine and watched you. A soft smile found your face when an old sixties rock band started playing. Izuku pet your hair back and you leaned over to smooch his lips. “I can’t wait!”

“Me neither.” Izuku grinned and backed out of the parking spot. The two of you waved to the proud looking All Might and sped down the Santa Carla streets.

While Izuku drove, you sang softly to each song while you sewed patched and stuck lapel pins into yours and Izuku’s clothes. He was impressed that you knew the lyrics to nearly everything on the track and he even joined in singing during his favorite choruses. Driving with you was heaven on earth.

When Izuku got to the desert, he became a little wary— cautious of both things that lurked in the night, and secrets that he wasn’t yet ready to tell you. He was thankful that you had your own activities to keep you preoccupied, because the secret he was keeping happened to surface, but it was one that could only be seen had you been looking out for it.

Dabi and Toga, two members of his misfit, makeshift coven, had been waiting by the side of the road to see Izuku off. He knew that they, too, were like him. He was never officially apart of Selene’s coven, so when her soul was finally sent on to the next plane, Izuku didn’t quite change back exactly like the rest of the kids whose faces painted the walls of Santa Carla.

Izuku gave them a curt nod as he drove past them and when he did so, he saw that there was a new addition to their miniature coven: Ochako Uraraka. Izuku didn’t care much when he discovered her untimely demise, but knowing that she finally got half of what she wanted brought a smile to his face. He could feel happy for one of his ex-best friends, especially since he, himself, got all of what he wanted.

Izuku kept his left hand on the steering wheel, while bringing his right to your thigh. You hummed in appreciation right as ‘People Are Strange’ by The Doors came on. You gasped, and for a split second, Izuku thought it was because you loved the song. He recalled that the very first conversation he had with you was about Jim Morrison and how Izuku hinted that he was a vampire, but then you cursed under your breath.

Izuku’s brows knitted together. “What is it?”

“I pricked my finger,” you said, and turned to shuffle through things in the back. “Is the first aid kit up up here or in the trunk?”

“Are you bleeding?”

“A little,” you said bashfully.

Izuku snickered. “We’re hunters, you know. We heal in a flash.” Then Izuku smelled you. It was rich, sweet, delicious… just so you and Izuku felt that very familiar and very prominent aching.

“Let me see it.”

Izuku hoped you couldn’t hear the stern depravity in his voice. He’d let you know later on just how desperate he was to have you listen to his demand at this very second, but for now, his very hungry heart would just be thankful that you were so ready to comply. You stuck your finger out to him. Izuku was a great multitasker and he didn’t expect anyone else to be on the road at this time of the night, so he was able to take in the absolute treasure that was your crimson splendor.

He guided your finger in between his lips. His tongue rolled out and lapped at the wound, swirling around your finger. You let out the softest gasps, right before biting your lips. Izuku eyed you as he sampled your magnificence. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, but there was no chance that you liked this as much as him. Still, he adored seeing the flush of your cheeks and that faraway look you were giving him. You wanted him to devour you.

Izuku recalled promising you that he was going to savor you, and savor you he will, but for now, he would let himself indulge in the seraphic flavors of honey… sunshine…

Ambrosia.

#im actually really sad this is over #gis #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #bnha yandere #mha x reader #reader insert #bnha reader insert #yandere male #vampire au #bnha au #bnha imagine #yandere!izuku #yandere!izuku midoriya

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yourdeepestfathoms · 5 years ago

Text

Cross Poison

(She appears briefly BUT read Anne as Courtney!Anne)

owo what’s this? another gift for @the10amongstthese3s?? yeh. I’ve lost all control hghhhfhghg it’s not even their birthday month yet but 🤟🤟 party hard

me: frantically google searches if luna is in fact moon in spanish (good news gang, it is)

also this is the third fic with a Pokemon move for a title. i am very ashamed of my lack of creativity

Word count: 6311

———————

“Catalina...Catalina...Catalina....”

Her eyelids were glued shut; no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t open them. Not that she cared- the lights would be too bright, anyway. She had felt like she was going blind the day before from just her nightlight.

“Oh no. She doesn’t look too good.”

“Stay out in the hall if it bothers you, Jane.”

“Will she be okay?”

“Yeah, I think. It’s just a little bug.”

A soft moan breached her chapped lips. The sound grated against her throat like talons of fire- she needed water so badly.

“Catalina? Can you hear me? It’s Anne.”

There’s a cool touch on her hot forehead. Despite herself, she leaned into it, desperate for the coldness.

“Anne, I don’t think she’s going to be waking up anytime soon. She’s out cold.”

“I felt her move.”

“Still. She’s not going to be performing today. She looks...not good.”

That had to be Kitty. Aragon knew not by the voice, which was muffled and far away, but the choice of words.

“Yeah. We should go get someone to take care of her.” There’s a rustling right beside her ear; acrylic nails tap on a phone screen.

“Who are you texting?”

“Joan.”

There was disbelieving sputtered laughter.

“Joan? Are you serious?”

“Yes! She’s close to Catalina and she has a ton of vacation days saved up. I know she’ll take off if I explain the situation.”

“Yeah, and the minute Aragon sneezes she’ll keel over and die.” Kitty snorted. “You know what’s wrong with her. She can barely talk to people without losing her mind.”

There’s nothing wrong with my girl! Aragon thought fiercely. She tried to get up to rain hellfire on Kitty for saying that, but all of her limbs were heavy and weighed her down like ten ton pieces of lead.

“She just has anxiety.” Anne said dismissively.

“Saying whatever she has is anxiety is an understatement. She worries about EVERYTHING.” Kitty said. “Like— I have anxiety, but I know how to pee in public.”

“And yet you faint at the sight of a hatchet. So don’t even start.”

“It’s—!!”

Anne barked something, but Aragon’s hearing was fading out. She moaned again and then she could feel her head flop to the side on what she’s pretty sure is a pillow. Blackness consumed her—but she doesn’t know the difference from everything else she’s been surrounded by.

—

Freezing water cascaded down Aragon’s face, snaking down her neck and seeping into all of her pores. She jolted awake, breathing harshly, and whipped around to the man trying to comfort her.

She should have known. This was why she always tried to take care of herself—because she KNEW Henry would try and slither back into her life. Long ago, she used to comfort herself with that thought, her husband crawling back to her after realizing all of her replacements were horrible and nobody would ever be able to top her, but now it filled her with nothing but sticky dread that fuels her nausea.

She doesn’t want to feel his hands brushing back her sweaty hair, his lips when he kisses her and tells her how she’s still beautiful, his body when he holds her when chills wrack through her. She wouldn’t let that happen again- not ever. So, even with an illness weighing her down, she gathered herself up to her full size and—

Wait a minute.

Her vision may have been edged with blackness and very blurry, but she knew Henry was not as thin as the person on the floor of her bedroom. And definitely didn’t have blonde hair. In fact, he didn’t even have hair at all.

“Joan?” She said—or tried to. Her voice was so raspy and weak that simply saying a name hurt. The water that had been running down her face cleared her nose for a moment, but her sinuses were already pressing back in. Even in her own ears, she could faintly hear how nasally and wobbly her words were.

“Y-yes?” The girl on the floor responded. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to frighten you! I-I was just trying to...” She glanced over at the bedside table and Aragon saw a bowl of water and a rag sitting on it.

Oh.

“I see,” Aragon blinked. “That makes more sense than...” She shook her head and pain ricochets through it.

“I’m sorry,” Joan said, looking down at the floor. “I—”

“Hush, love.” Aragon said. “It’s alright.”

She threw her legs over the edge of the bed, and that movement alone jarred her weak body horribly. She took in a shaky breath and put her head in her hands, massaging her pounding temples. She heard Joan scramble to her feet in front of her.

“C-Catalina?” She stammered nervously.

“I’m fine.” Argaon grit, and then her stomach churned audibly. She set a hand over it as Joan grimaced. “Actually- Can you hand me that rubbish bin?” She swallowed thickly. “And then give me some privacy?”

Joan’s eyes widened and she nodded frantically. She gave Aragon the trashcan and then walked out, hearing gagging and coughing a moment later.

—

Nerves were crawling and writhing in the pit of Joan’s gut like snakes. She could almost hear them hissing as they slid past each other, making her stomach roil. But she would not spill her guts, especially with Aragon being sick. She was supposed to be taking care of the queen—she couldn’t act like this!

And yet, her anxiety continued to rise. And it definitely didn’t help that there was flour everywhere.

Joan blamed it on the kitchen. It was, at least in part, responsible, being rather cramped because of the large island. One quick turn and smack! An arm-to-flour-bag collision sent the product flying to the floor, landing in a cloud of white powder.

And it was loud, too, making a rather distinct thump that likely resonated throughout the entire house.

And throughout the entire house meant—

The girl jumped from her position across the kitchen, dropping the measuring cups and spoons she had been carrying to squeak nervously. They clattered to the ground, much to her dismay, but she had to deal with it later. Right now, she had to face the door down the upstairs hallway creaking open.

Joan squeaked again and stumbled up the stairs towards Aragon’s room, tripping over her own feet and a pool of flour in the process. She attempted to urge the disoriented queen back into her room, idly brushing off the coating of flour that covered her entire being.

Aragon’s voice is rough and her accent mixes with the words horribly when she starts asking questions: “What happened? What fell? Are you alright?”

“Nothing! Nothing! It’s fine—everything’s fine so, please, um, go back to your room now! Get more rest, you’re still sick!” Joan yelled in response, voice faltering and increasing in pitch as she went.

“It’s only a slight fever, I’m fine. I don’t understand why you are so—”

Joan, not knowing what else to do, screamed. In surprise, Aragon responded with a sharp yelp. They were probably, most likely, definitely causing a disturbance by now. Joan would write five-page apology notes later.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Aragon asked, frantically now, her voice becoming a hoarse whisper due to illness.

“Um, I, um,” Joan felt her lungs seizing up in the way they usually did when she was about to have a panic attack, but she beat the feeling back. She couldn’t lose herself to her anxiety right now, especially with Aragon in much worse shape. “I-I’m dealing with it, d-don’t worry!”

“But what is it, that’s all I’m asking—”

“It is being dealt with!”

There was a brief pause, leaving the house in silence. Then, Aragon sighed, muttered a soft, resigned, “forget it, whatever it is, I don’t want to know,” and turned around to return to her room. Joan scampered back to the kitchen and braced herself against the sink, struggling to breathe for a moment.

She felt utterly pathetic. How could that simple interaction nearly spiral her into full blown panic? She had to get her head on straight!

After taking a few calming breaths like Aragon had taught her, she stepped back and then began cleaning up. She lost about half of the flour in the fall, much to her dismay, because it was a brand new bag. She made a mental note to pay the queens back for it, then moved on.

Once she finished cleaning up, she set everything she needed neatly on the counter. She glanced several times at the recipe she was going off of as she mixed the specific ingredients together, since she wanted this to be perfect. Aragon must have been feeling miserable- she HAD to make something good for her to hopefully cheer her up.

Several dirty dishes, incorrectly measured ingredients, and one incident where her long hair got caught in the mixer later, she has her treat tucked away in the oven to bake. She smiled proudly to herself, then moved onto cleaning up and making some soup on the stove-

-only to remember that she had no idea how to make soup. Even the recipes she looked up seemed way too complicated for her stupid fish brain. She worried over this for a long time before deciding to just make some porridge. Somehow, that is something she’s able to make.

Her mind whirled as she began taking out the necessary ingredients. The usual voices she heard in her head were, for once, not warbling over her, but rather Aragon.

Hot porridge. I’ll make hot porridge. She’ll like that.

Hot porridge will make her throat worse. It hurts right now. Cold porridge will cool it down and soothe it.

Cold porridge would chill her bones and make her fever worse. Hot porridge is softer on the stomach.

Hot porridge burns tongues.

Cold porridge—

“Aaagh, shut up!” Joan cried miserably, clamping her hands over her ears. It took her a moment to realize what she'd done and she looked around the kitchen bashfully, as if she thought someone had materialized nearby and watched her yell at herself.

“You’re fine, Joan,” She whispered. “You’re okay. You can do this. Just like you used to back then. It’s not that hard.” She paused. “Aaand you’re still talking to yourself. Good job.”

She shook her head and wracked her brain to remember what was needed. Water, milk, rice, seasoning. Easy.

And yet, it still took her three tries to make a simple pot of porridge. First she poured too much seasoning, then she burned herself on the stove and dropped the bowl she was holding, and finally, she somehow managed to turn the food into a gross goop that would only succeed in making Aragon even sicker. After finally getting it right, she sunk to the ground with a woeful noise, wallowing in her own shame.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic- Her mind screamed. Can’t even make a simple meal? What an embarrassment.

She whimpered softly, feeling a panic attack rise in her chest, but she stamped it back down. She would not lose herself. She couldn’t.

Think about rain, She thought over and over again. Think about rain, think about rain, think about rain...

There was a crash of thunder- actual thunder. Joan jumped backwards, slamming her body up against the oven and staring with wide eyes as a downpour of rain suddenly came down against the glass back door. She scrambled for her phone, wondering if the queens did something to protect the glass from a storm, and then realized how stupid that was. She put her phone down as a blush blazed over her cheeks.

Stupid, Her thoughts hissed. Can’t you do anything right? Use some common sense.

She tried to think about rain again, but the peaceful drizzle she usually calmed herself with has turned into a raging storm within her head. Lightning slashed the mindscape as thunder rolled through her eardrums. Cracks appeared everywhere, jagged and fang-shaped when they split open like oozing wounds. She wondered if her cranium was being destroyed as the internal storm veered into a baby hurricane.

There’s a loud beep. It lanced through the tsunami and Joan’s eyes snapped open.

She’s on the floor, curled in a fetal position, clutching at her head. She rose slowly, feeling embarrassed.

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic- Her mind roared, but she did her best to ignore it as she took the cake out of the oven.

It’s an effort that takes a lot longer than it should, but when she finishes icing the cake, Joan has a brief moment of pride. She was satisfied with the result as she fawned over how pretty it was, even if it was thin and slightly deformed in shape, and the golden-orange frosting was gooey and haphazardly spread across the surface.

Joan cut a generous sized piece for Aragon, grabbed a fork and a plastic bag, and practically bounced up to Aragon’s room, the cake balanced precariously on the plate held behind her back. She was barely able to stop herself from chiming out loud when she saw the queen’s form upon entering.

Aragon was lying on her back, one hand resting over her stomach, the other drooped listlessly at her side. Her eyes were scrunched shut and her mouth was open slightly to breathe- her nose must be too stuffed to get air that way. Beads of sweat clustered together on her forehead. She doesn’t stir when Joan walks in.

“Catalina?” Joan called out softly. She stepped closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed vomit in the waste bin. She winced. “Catalina?”

Aragon’s body shuddered in a way that sent jolts of anxiety crackling through Joan’s entire being. She moaned softly, then her eyelids peeled back and she stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Catalina?” Joan said again, this time much quieter. She edged towards the door slightly, expecting the queen to snap at her for waking her up. But instead, Aragon’s head rolled over the pillow to face her and she smiled weakly.

“Hello, little luna,” She croaked, her voice rough with illness. She sounded worse than she did earlier. “Were you baking?”

Joan blinked. “Ah… You��”

“Smelled it?” Aragon chuckled a little. “Barely,” She snuffled through her stuffy nose then made a very unqueenly face that caused a giggle to bubble up from Joan. “But it’s enough.”

She fell into silence as Joan sat on the edge of the bed, then slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She winced as she did so, even letting out a soft gasp of pain, and one of her hands shot to her stomach. Joan nearly dropped the cake reaching for the trashcan, but Aragon stopped her with a dismissive wave of her other hand.

“I’m alright, dear,” She said. “Just some cramps.” She leaned back against the pile of pillows against her headboard, breathing out softly through her mouth.

Joan quickly regained herself from her flash of panic. She pulled the cake out from behind her back and presented it to Aragon, beaming.

“Look! I worked really hard on this! Maybe it’ll cheer you up!” Joan nearly glowed with satisfaction. Aragon gingerly took the plate from her.

“Ah,” Aragon said. “Thank you.” She stared down at the plate as if it were holding a human heart rather than a sweet treat.

Joan continued to give her a look, one of adoration and anticipation, and Aragon has the choice to either swallow down her hopeless devotion to her daughter figure or swallow down the cake in front of her on an upset stomach, risking further nausea...or worse. She cast an uneasy glance to the trash can, but Joan doesn’t notice it through her eyeball-scorchingly bright radiation of bliss and pride.

“I’m sick, you know.” Aragon stated. Joan nodded, about to respond when Aragon continues, “So I can’t… really eat this right now.”

The realization appeared to dawn on Joan rather painfully, and in seconds the girl has apologies spilling from her mouth like a waterfall. Aragon can’t even get a word in edgewise to stop the torrent of despair coming from Joan, who seemed to think that she’s ruined everything— “I’m so sorry, how rude of me, I should’ve known better, oh Catherine, I’m sorry—”

“Joan!”

Joan flinched away, nearly teetering off the bed. Hot shame poured down her throat and set her insides ablaze. At the same time, icy cold dread shoved its way in and the two conflicting emotions clamored for space inside of her until she felt like she was going to be sick.

“Joan.” Aragon said again, clearing her throat. She reached out and gently touched Joan’s cheek; her hand was shaking with exhausted tremors. “Think about rain, baby. You’ve got this.”

Joan closed her eyes. She imagined collapsing all her thoughts about nearly worsening Aragon’s sickness into dozens of raindrops and whisking them into a background storm. It works—for now. She opens her eyes again and Aragon is smiling at her, despite the tiredness and pain very obviously glinting in her eyes.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, PLEASE just let me sleep, Joan imagined her thoughts crying. You nearly poisoned me with your blasted cake! The least you can do is let me rest!

Joan put that into a raindrop, too, although it was a little harder to shove inside. The tone the internal voice spoke with sounded exactly like Aragon’s- what if she had said that out loud? What if she was upset with Joan? What if she wanted her to leave?

“Raindrops, baby,” Aragon murmured, caressing Joan’s cheek. Her shaking fingers press into the coolness of Joan’s skin, like she was hoping to lower her fever with the touch alone.

Raindrops, Joan repeated in her head, and she shoved the Aragon-mimicking thoughts into one of the shimmering droplets falling from her internal rainstorm.

“Good girl,” Aragon said breathily. Despite having to take a moment to breathe through a wave of dizziness and blink away the black spots that come with it, she’s still able to recognize the way Joan’s face would relax when she successfully blocks out her anxiety. “Good girl...”

Every worried thought suddenly exploded out of their raindrop, splattering icy water throughout Joan’s brain, but she could hardly care because Aragon is tipping over and she has to rush to catch her. Her hands grappling the queen’s forearms seemed to be enough to jar her awake, because her eyes snapped open and she sat up quickly.

“Catherine?” Joan said worriedly. “Are you okay? Can you hear me? Should I call someone? An ambulance?”

Lightning cracked in her internal rainstorm, illuminating a puddle upon the mindscape that she always tried very hard to keep covered. There were three, actually- one wreathed in thorny vines around the edges with brilliant emerald flowers sprouting from the snarls, one with pinkish-green snapdragons lurking around the perimeter, and one that has soft white petals floating upon the surface. As beautiful as they may have been, she dreaded having their contents bubble out of the pools—and that’s exactly what was happening with the third puddle.

Images flashed behind her eyelids- a sickroom, stained sheets, a fretting king and a writhing, gasping queen.

“I’m alright,” Aragon’s voice surfaced through the clamor of noise resonating through her skull. She seemed to be too busy recovering from her near-blackout to notice Joan’s rising anxiety.

“That’s good.” Joan said distantly. The sickroom again, blood oozing down a bedside, half of a placenta sprawled out of a dark red abyss of torn flesh and blood and inflamed vaginal tissue. “I’m...I’m glad.”

She turned stiffly to the edge of the bed, and at first she thought she was moving to vomit in the trash can, but then she reached for the plastic bag she brought in with her.

Oh yeah, She thought. How could I forget? Stupid.

“What’s that?” Aragon asked after clearing her throat again. Her voice was slimy with mucus, but she was still doing her best to hold herself like a regal queen.

“Oh, just some medicine.” Joan pulled out a bottle filled with some kind of dark pink liquid. Aragon squinted at it and curled her nose. “I went shopping before I came over.”

“What is it exactly?” Aragon asked.

“Something that will help you.” Joan informed. “I also got ginger shots, throat coat, Ibuprofen, Motrin, Mucinex-”

“Are you trying to overdose me or something?”

A blush lit up on Joan’s cheeks and Aragon chuckled lightly. She gently touched the girl’s hand; hers is still shaking.

“I’m joking, baby.”

Joan smiled thinly, then unscrewed the lid of the bottle she’s holding and filled the cap up with the thick liquid. She looked at it, smelled it once, and was glad she’s not the one about to drink it.

“That’s probably enough, right?” She looked at the queen.

It was a big lid. A little over the stated amount wouldn’t be that bad, right? The more Aragon takes the better it’ll work! Probably.

“You’re the caretaker.” Aragon said.

Joan inspected the medicine-filled cap for another moment before handing it to Aragon. The queen stared at it like it’s poison. Joan giggled softly.

“Just...take it like a shot!” Joan encouraged her.

“Bold words from someone who has never taken a shot before,” Aragon said, earning a ruffled look from Joan. She flashed a smile at the girl, then punched her nose shut, tipped her head back, and downed the liquid as fast as she could. Almost instantly, she made an ungodly sound similar to that of a cat coughing up a hairball. Joan dissolved into giggles.

“Oh Lord,” Aragon said bitterly. She snatched the water bottle sitting on her nightstand and took a big sip.

“Hang on, there’s more.” Joan said before Aragon could get too comfortable with feeling like she was done.

It probably wasn’t good to take all that medicine on an empty stomach, but Aragon still wasn’t up to eat much, even when Joan told her she also made some porridge. She just shook her head and laid back down after taking several pills and shots of foul-tasting liquids.

Upon peeling herself out of the room, Joan was met with a rush of worry and fear that nearly caused her to spill the trash can she told Aragon she was going to clean out for her. She gripped the edges tightly and trekked into the kitchen, trying not to succumb to her nervousness, but it was so hard with every possible bad situation shoving its way in. Soon, several endings to this sickness were laid out to her- the least alarming one was Aragon recovering, but being deaf for life due to her high fever, but the others were much, much worse: Aragon seizing in the bed, foaming at the mouth; Aragon being dead the next time she checks up on her; Aragon being brain dead because her fever fried her brain; Aragon spewing blood and vomit from her mouth because Joan accidentally overdosed her; the other queens looming over Joan, their faces twisted with hatred and disgust, while Maria and Cathy wail over Aragon’s horribly pale corpse in the background; Joan being shunned and hated and called a killer for the rest of her life.

Then, she blinked and they’re gone, disappearing into the mist of her internal rainstorm and she doesn’t even try to scramble after them. Even if she wanted to, it’s almost impossible for her to pull thoughts back out of the storm once they’ve drifted inside.

She takes to washing the dishes she dirtied from making the porridge, and it took a lot of time because she knew that Jane was sort of a neat freak and would kill her if she left a smudge of rice on one of her pots. Doing the chore eased her mind slightly, got her away from thinking about every worst-case scenario, but she can feel them lurking in the back of her head, waiting.

The storm outside the house hissed. The backyard was turning into a small lake, swelling and churning and eroding the ground into a stew of mud and weeds. Joan walked over to the back door and stared out at the pouring rain. Weather like this reminded her of reincarnation, which was rather strange because she was the only one who didn’t come back when it was raining.

Aragon and Anne had told her about it a few months after everyone was settled. The queens came back first, all on the same day, all during a terrible storm with “thunder so loud it could chip bones”, as Anne had stated, and they all met the same day at the chapel Jane was buried at. Soon after, they got the huge house in ways they still couldn’t really understand, and then, four months later, the ladies in waiting appeared, although they came back in two day intervals. Maria on Monday, Maggie on Wednesday, Bessie on Friday, and then Joan on Sunday. However, they said the storm cleared up the day of Joan’s reincarnation, making them think that nobody else would appear. But that night was one of the brightest they’ve ever seen, and she showed up in their backyard, underneath the glowing moon. Completely naked, too. That part always made Joan very flustered, but she liked the way Anne and Aragon would laugh when she would-

Aragon.

A sudden gush of adrenaline sent Joan careening up the stairs and to Aragon’s bedroom. She nearly kicked the door off its hinges, but she couldn’t care because Aragon-

-was perfectly safe in her bed?

Joan blinked. As much as she loved seeing that the queen was okay, she couldn’t understand the sight. Was she hallucinating? Why did she have such a bad gut feeling all of a sudden?

She waited by the door, thinking that maybe something might happen, but nothing did. Nothing bad, at least. Aragon stirred at one point and sneezed in her sleep, which nearly made Joan fling herself at her and give her CPR (as if that would help even if she WAS dying, anyway—she didn’t know how to give CPR correctly at all).

Her nerves were on fire. Alarm bells were ringing in her ears, screaming, “GO! GO! SHE’S DYING! HURRY! YOU HAVE TO HURRY OR SHE’LL DIE!”

Cleves had once asked her how she managed to be so anxious all the time, and, at the time, she didn’t have an answer. But now she did: she didn’t manage it. Being this nervous was exhausting. And she hated it, but she didn’t know how to turn her brain off or quiet her flurry of worried thoughts that poured through her brain every second of every day.

The pet cat, Tea Cake, strolled by and meowed at Joan. She swore even IT was judging her nervousness. She sighed and finally left the room, despite her brain crying, “NO! NO! GO BACK! SHE’LL DIE!”

She collapsed down onto the couch and put her head in her hands. When she glanced up, she saw that the time displayed on the TV cable box read: 12:04. It was a double show day today, so she probably had another good four or five hours before the queens got back. If she could just keep Aragon alive until they took over, then it wouldn’t be her fault if she died!

She squeezed her temples against her palms. How could she ever think like that? Besides, she would find a way to blame herself, anyway. Just like-

A whimper bubbled to Joan’s lips, which turned into a sob. Suddenly, there’s tears running down her cheeks and she doesn’t really know why, but she does know that she hates them and they make her persistent headache worse.

She cried alone on the couch for a while, at some point flopping over to bury herself against the back cushions in a fetal position. She was planning on just crying herself into a pathetic puddle, but then her phone rang and she had no choice but to pick it up. The caller idea said that it was Jane, and usually her heart would leap in joy to see that her queen was calling her, but, right now, simply seeing her name said spirals of bad, bad things coiling through her brain.

“Hello?” She said in her best not-having-an-anxiety-attack voice.

“Hey,” Jane replied coolly. She sounded nonchalant, but Joan has become good at detecting the annoyance that would edge her voice whenever she talked to her. Even on a phone call, the stinging irritation was bristled around her words like needle-sharp thorns. “I’m just calling to check up on Catalina. How is she?”

Ironically, it was the one afraid of illness doing this. Perhaps it’s to make up for her not being able to physically comfort her fellow queen.

“Okay,” Joan answered. She struggled to keep her voice steady, but she knew it was wobbling treacherously. “She’s- she’s, ah— she’s sleeping. Right now. S-she’s sleeping.”

“I see.” Jane said. Then, she paused. “Are you alright?”

A whirl of new thoughts filled Joan’s head: Jane cares, Jane doesn’t care, Jane is worried about her, Jane is going to tell the others about how pathetic she is and they’ll all laugh at her, Jane knows.

“I-I’m f-ine.” Her voice cracked horribly and fresh tears ran down her cheeks. She has the art of crying silently mastered, but she knows Jane can still hear her sharp breaths and hiccups and whimpers. The fact that the queen isn’t saying anything makes her feel even worse. Scenarios shove their way into her brain faster: Jane putting her on speaker so everyone in the theater could hear her break down, Jane hanging up on her so she doesn’t have to listen to her sniffle and weep like a baby, Jane laughing at her.

“Listen to me,” Jane spoke up. Her voice is firm and hard, but Joan swore she could hear softness seep through the thorns edging her words. “I’m the calmest voice you hear. Use me as your anchor. I’ll keep talking until you calm down.”

Joan was nearly startled into calming down. Was Jane...trying to comfort her?

“Remember that you are safe. Look around you.”

Joan sank to her knees on the hardwood floor. Her chest ached with the weight of her guilt and anguish, which are mixing together awfully inside of her. She whimpered softly.

“You’re okay. We’re okay. Catalina is okay. The cat is okay. Anna’s dogs are, regrettably, okay.”

“Wh-why regrettably?” Joan stammered, sniffling.

“Ah, so you are listening.” Jane said. Joan thinks she may be tipping her head. “Keep listening. I know you can do that, Joan. You’re a very smart girl.”

Jane thinks I’m smart, Joan thought dizzily. And then, those thoughts spiral downwards, That doesn’t make sense. Jane is dead. I know Jane is dead. I saw her— I was— I felt her blood.

Joan closed her eyes and remembered the way she tried to help Jane after she gave birth to Edward. She had tried so hard to stop the bleeding, but there was just too much blood and it wouldn’t stop coming out and the smell was so bad and everything was yelling and Jane wouldn’t stop screaming.

“-my voice.” Jane was saying, a little more frantic. “Don’t let yourself fall in.”

But it was too late. The petal-strewn puddle in Joan’s mindscape frothed over its own edges until every bad thing she tried so desperately to hide within its depths came pouring out: Nurses shoving through the sickroom, midwives clamoring in a panic, blood and birthing fluids and placenta and sweat and tears, a tiny baby soaked in blood- They all flooded her mind with full force.

“Joan? Joan?” Jane called loudly. “Joan, are you there? What’s going on?”

Joan doesn’t answer. She simply dropped her phone, curled into a ball on the floor, and cried.

An unknown amount of time passes. It’s nearly two o’clock when Joan looked up, though. Immediately, a headache crashed into her head like a sledgehammer. Sweat glided down her body, but it felt more like blood to her.

She had to check on Aragon, but she couldn’t bear to see the queen while she was sick. She was too afraid of possibly seeing her as a corpse, so she just half staggered, half crawled to the downstairs bathroom, stripped off her clothing, and stumbled into the shower to scrub off the feeling of blood coating every inch of her skin.

Leaving her to suffer, Her mind hissed. Good job.

———

“Alright, that’s it—”

Aragon had been laying in her bed for what felt like hours, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She threw her legs over the edge and hauled herself out, which nearly landed her face-first on the floor when she put pressure on her numb legs, but she managed to grapple onto the door frame and steady herself. After a moment of breathing, she’s able to start walking.

Joan isn’t anywhere in sight when she finally makes it down the staircase, but she can faintly hear Cleves’ shower running. She chuckled, wondering how her nervous little moon conjured up the courage to use someone else’s bathroom, but was proud of her nonetheless.

She poured herself a bowl of porridge and sat down at the couch to eat. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until that moment; it was good to eat, especially something so light and easy on her stomach.

Somewhere down the hallway, she hears the shower sputter to a halt. A few minutes later, Joan trudged out, dressed in the same bumblebee T-shirt and sweat pants as she was in earlier. Her hair is still soaked, though, and she had a distant look in her dull grey eyes.

“Hello, little luna,” Aragon cooed over at her. She didn’t know if it was her fever making her delirious or if the girl’s touch starved aura was rubbing off on her or even if it was from her dreams of being with her daughter again, but she’s been itching to hold Joan in her arms. “You took a shower, I see. I’m not THAT contagious, you know.” She winked with a laugh, but Joan doesn’t react. She didn’t even look up at her. Aragon frowned. “Joan?”

Aragon set her bowl of porridge down after one more bite and walked over to where Joan had stopped in the living room. She’s clenching fistfuls of her shirt so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Something was wrong.

“Joan,” Aragon gently touched her shoulder, but even that is enough to make her jolt back. “Hey, sweetie, it’s okay. It’s just me. It’s Catalina.”

Joan looked up at her with wide eyes and there’s something in her gaze that she’s seen in Maria’s before, but much, much worse.

“Joan,” Aragon took her hands. “Think about the rain, baby.”

Joan’s eyes shut tightly and a strangled sob escaped her lips. She shook her head, making a miserable keening noise that sent cracks through Aragon’s heart.

“Think of the mist and wind and distant thunder,” Aragon continued softly, stroking Joan’s knuckles with her thumbs. “The fog and lightning and rainbows.”

“I-I can’t-“ Joan gasped. She shook her head. “I can’t. Y-you— You’re—sick— not okay— just like—”

Suddenly, it dawns on Aragon.

“Oh, Joan,” She murmured. “Oh, baby.” She cupped the girl’s tear stained cheeks. “You’re worried that I may end up like Jane, don’t you?”

With a feeble whimper, Joan nodded and then sobbed again.

“My poor girl,” Aragon guided Joan over to the couch and pulled her into a tight hug. Joan clung to her instantly, burying her face into her chest and clearly not even caring if she may catch whatever the queen has. “You have a lot of pent up anxiety over that, huh?”

Another nod, this one much weaker. Joan’s entire body is now wracked with weeping. Aragon holds her tightly, afraid she may fall apart if she didn’t. She stroked her soaking wet hair and rocked her back and forth.

“It’s going to be okay, honey,” Aragon whispered. “I’m okay, I promise. I’m alright. Nothing is going to happen to me.”

Joan, surprisingly, doesn’t argue against that claim. With a frown, Aragon realized it’s probably because she doesn’t have the energy to.

Joan cried for a long time, and all Aragon could do was hold her and wait until she’s well enough to talk to. However, when the sobs do eventually die down, Joan was already far gone in unconsciousness. She looked peaceful, at least, with her head resting atop Aragon’s chest. The queen closed her own eyes, feeling her illness take control over her once again. She, too, fell asleep, but awoke some time later to someone standing over her. She jumped back, instinctively holding the girl in her arms tighter.

“Sorry,” Jane said. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” Aragon answered. She was surprised that Jane was standing so close to her.

Jane nodded. She glanced down at Joan and expression became something that Aragon couldn’t really discern. She pursed her lips.

“Is she okay?” She finally asked quietly.

Aragon blinked, then looked down at Joan. “She...went through some stuff earlier.” She said. “She was pretty freaked out. Had an anxiety attack. She’s been asleep since.”

The flat line set on Jane’s mouth turned into a frown. She extended a hand and gently touched Joan’s head, then pulled back.

“I see.” She whispered. So many emotions were flashing in her eyes. “Well.” She turned away. “Take care of her. Oh— and yourself.”

Aragon watched her walk to the staircase and disappear upstairs, then looked down at Joan in her arms. She pulled the girl closer.

“Will do,” She said, long after Jane was gone.

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