#How to Tell if Napoleon is in Your Living Room | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queers-gambit · 30 days

Text

Damage Done

prompt: The Winter Soldier is activated and Bucky's lover is unlucky enough to be in proximity.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 5.4k+

note: oh, wow, Cherry wrote Bucky NOT in a Mafia AU?

warnings: takes place during Civil War, absolutely no plot - author just doesn't know how to shut the fuck up. cursing, violence, established relationship, small angst, injury, blood, hurt and comfort, Winter Soldier antics, choking, abrupt ending, maybe domestic violence? it's the WS.

it's really not that bad, it's not terribly descriptive but still tread carefully if triggered by these topics.

"Keep them together," Agent Everett Ross commanded, a little man with a raging Napoleon Complex, gesturing at you and Bucky; the latter held in mobile, restrictive captivity. "He doesn't play nice if he doesn't see her, or so it's said," his eyes rolled.

"You're making a huge mistake!" You barked, struggling in the restraints they had you wrapped in.

"No, I don't think so," he sneered, approaching you as Bucky's unit kept moving. "I think the mistake was letting you out of anyone's sight. Tell me, how long have you been in cahoots with the Winter Soldier?"

"He's not the Winter Soldier anymore, you jackass, he's a person! A real, live human being! His name's James but he prefers Bucky! He likes plums," you were yanked away, still snarling, "his favorite color is blue, likes motorcycles, he has real guilt over his past transgressions, and you've got the wrong guy!"

"Oh, right, like you're the best judge of character," Ross laughed.

"Natasha! Nat! Fucking tell him!" You pleaded, struggling in the hold of the men who kept iron clad restraint on you and were starting to drag you away. "You've got the wrong guy! Bucky didn't do this! I wouldn't lie - not to you, Natasha! Tell him!"

"That's touching, really sweet," Ross mocked, rolling his eyes as you were finally overpowered and lead away.

"Hang on a second," Nat muttered, sharing a look with Tony. "Was her DNA or facial recognition anywhere at the UN? Anywhere near where the bomb was set off?"

"What's that matter - "

"Since they met, they've not parted ways," Nat spelled out. "He won't go anywhere without her - you, yourself, are keeping them together for interrogation - "

"It's just easier," Ross scoffed.

"No, you know..." She blinked in confusion, "You know, Bucky won't talk unless she's there - you know he'll be ten times as difficult if she's not in the room."

"So?"

"So, in the past two years, have you heard about him without her? Have you seen her without him?"

"Nobody's seen or heard from either of them," Ross shook his head.

"Exactly," she nodded, lungs tightening with nerves. "If you can't find evidence of her being in Vienna... Bucky might not be your guy... Besides, they're both trained to avoid cameras - "

"Mistakes are made," Ross waved off.

"Not by two highly trained assassins like them," she snapped. "Check the files, go back - look! Actually look, run her scans through facial recognition - if you don't find her, it wasn't Bucky."

"You're so sure?" Tony asked skeptically.

"I know her," Natasha nodded, "better than anyone. She's as good as my sister, she's as good as blood. I know her. I know she wouldn't run this risk - "

"Then you also know she wouldn't get caught," Ross laughed.

"Neither would Bucky."

The silence stretched, but Ross was stubborn; sneering at the Avengers and taking his leave with his own plan of action in mind. He left Tony and Natasha to deal with Sam and Steve as he went to observe the interrogation. When he got before the monitors, he watched as it took four different men to restrain you enough to hoist your locks up the wall until they were clicked in place by ultra-strength magnets.

You jostled, feeling the full extent of your containment, grunting when the pipe you were connected to shocked your entire system into submission. Everett Ross smirked at your pain; watching your tongue swipe over your teeth, arms high above your head, readjusting your weight in your feet, but otherwise, not moving.

Ross heard Bucky ask quietly, his eyes watching you carefully from inside the reinforced cell, "You okay, doll?"

"Looks like they learned from last time," you grit, the cuffs around your wrists electrified; charring your skin, making you grimace slightly in a veiled attempt to hide your pain from your lover.

"Don't fight, you'll make it worse," he advised softly, frowning, eyes glassy from restrained emotion.

"They could've at least put me in a bit more comfortable position," you sneered, glaring up at one of the cameras, shaking your head as if in disappointment.

"I don't think they want to play nice, sweetheart."

"Yeah, could've guessed that from when they arrested us," you shook your head, puckering your lips to gather the blood in your mouth; spitting it to the floor. "You good, baby?" You asked as the men who restrained you moved to plug in the power cell caging Bucky.

He nodded silently at you, bowing his head and letting his long locks curtain his face. You frowned, shifting again as you blindly felt your cuffs and designed a way to get free; watching the men stoically as they exited the room to make way for the psychologist. Your jaw clenched, the air smelling foul - alerting you that something wasn't quite right.

"Hello, Mr. Barnes," the accented man greeted casually, standing at a single table in front of Bucky, you off to the side; chains rattling as your defenses flared. The psychologist smirked and greeted you, too, assuring your real identity was known - something that Natasha released to the world about two years ago when HYDRA sent Bucky after Cap in DC. You didn't fault her, in fact, you respected her move, and after getting out of the blown-to-shit base, you had run into the Winter Soldier... Beginning your epic love story, both of you on the run from authorities and higher powers.

You smuggled Bucky out of the country, using fake aliases that had yet to see the light of day and therefor, wasn't released in the files Nat published during her takedown of the compromised S.H.I.E.L.D. agency. He was appreciative, pondering how he was meant to go forward in a world he didn't know; so, you agreed to stick around for a bit to help settle him, and that bit turned into a couple of years - the two of you inseparable.

There was an incident in London that almost exposed you, but instead, it just shined a light on your new partnership. Captain American, Nat, Sam, shit - even Tony Stark himself was unable to catch up; your trail going cold, Nat knowing your Widow training was running the show and keeping you safe. Granted, she probably could've unraveled the web you had weaved - but the truth was, she didn't want to. So, she kept quiet. Leading you all here...

"I've been sent by the United Nations to evaluate you both," the man you'd come to know as Helmut Zemo continued; playing his part very well, but not well enough to convince you of his innocence. Something about the man rubbed you the wrong way. "Do you mind if I sit?" He asked politely, feigning like you two had a choice. When he did, Zemo continued, "Your first name is James?"

He noted the way Bucky and you shared a look, both remaining silent. Zemo tried to assure, "I'm not here to judge you - either of you. I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?" Continued silence, your head subtly shaking - an act only Bucky clocked. "I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James."

"My name is Bucky," he croaked, your sigh echoing around the room.

"Hm," Zemo nodded, "I take it, she doesn't want you to talk?"

"She wants me safe," Bucky answered stiffly.

"That is admirable," the psychologist offered kindly, "a great display of love, is it not?"

"Jesus Christ," you shook your head, offering a glare, "you went through all that schooling to ask stupid fucking questions? Might wanna get your money back."

Zemo chuckled after humming, "I am merely trying to establish the connection you two share. I hear it is rare to find one without the other, that you two have become, uh, joined at the hip?"

"I protect her," Bucky offered, sharing a long look with you, "and she protects me."

"An equal partnership, would you say?"

"Yes."

"Buck," you warned, wrists twisting to hold the cuffs; being zapped, making your jaw clench and the veins in your neck to bulge.

"It's all right," his voice sounded like it was being put through a grater. "We're caught, doll, it's all right."

You huffed, eyeing Zemo as his eyes flickered between you two. He nodded, making a note in his little book, "I was warned that you would be unwilling to cooperate without her present. Why is that?"

"She keeps me safe."

Zemo hummed, "So you've said, and yet... Here you both are..." You were ready to lash out, but the doctor changed course, "Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." Your restraints zapped you again when you jolted forward as if to physically silence Zemo, Bucky's head snapping over and his eyes drooping in sympathy. "Told you not to move, it'll only get worse," he told you softly.

"He's asking questions that will get him killed," you snarled, gritting your teeth as the electric currents seized most of your energy. But it was worth it, finding a little weak spot and letting your mind devise a specific plan.

"You fear," Zemo continued, "that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. I feel it is safe to assume, uh, your lady is privy to your past experiences? Perhaps, you two have shared a couple?"

"Just leave her out of this," Bucky pleaded.

"Don't worry," he assured you both, tapping something on his tablet before looking back at Bucky with a sick recognition. "We only have to talk about one. One mission... That I know you," he nodded at you, "were not present for."

"Kinda game you playin', Doc?" You sneered. "Think anything he says will change my opinion about him?"

"No, no, I know your relationship is too strong for that," Zemo smiled. "So, it's not so much what he will say... But what he will do..."

"The fuck does that - "

But then, the lights went out; darkening the room save for the lights individual to Bucky's holding cell. You perked up, the electric currents halting as the cuffs died with the power and gave you an opportunity to begin working on your escape. As red panic lights flickered, Bucky questioned, "What the hell is this?"

"Why don't we discuss your home?" Zemo offered. "Not Romania. Certainly not Brooklyn, no," he reached into his satchel, revealing a red notebook the world thought long lost... Buried in snow... Forgotten in time. "I mean, your real home," Zemo removed his glasses as you frantically started working.

"No, no, no, no, no, hey, hey, hey, don't - fuck!" You grit, trying harder to free yourself. "Bucky - Bucky, don't listen - ah, Goddamnit!"

The man you now understood to be a fake psychologist stood with a little flashlight, opening the red notebook, and began repeating words in Russian that would activate the decommissioned Winter Soldier. Bucky had told you all about these words, begging you to provide a shield against them should they ever be uttered again; but you had prior knowledge, the Winter Soldier someone you had been debriefed on during your time with other secret agencies.

"Longing."

"No," Bucky whispered, head tilting back in panic as he felt his stomach curl in a familiar pattern.

"Bucky - don't fucking listen, please!" You begged, still working to free yourself.

"Rusted."

"Stop," Bucky pleaded, sounding in pain.

"Don't do this!" You pleaded to Zemo. "You're fucking hurting him, please, stop!"

"Seventeen."

"Stop!" Bucky barked, his vibranium hand clenching in anger and pain; the entire arm whirring from the flex of his muscle. He began to pant, a deep growl emitting above your panicked whimpers.

"Daybreak!"

"You have no idea what you're doing!" You raged, Bucky screaming in pain as his mind was forcibly sunk back into dark recesses of his past. "Don't - Bucky, baby, listen to me - don't fucking listen to him, please, please, baby, don't do this!"

He screamed, breaking free of the iron restraints that kept him seated in the reinforced, mobile cell. "Furnace!" Zemo continued, ignoring the pain and panic you and Bucky were both thrown into.

"Fucking stop, please! You don't understand!" You begged, freeing one hand and working in vain to unlatch the other. Bucky was out of his seat, anger coursing like a palpable rain over you all - him screaming as his metal arm worked to pound into the strengthened glass surrounding him.

"Nine!"

"Bucky, please, baby, please, don't do this!" You tried a new tactic, hoping you were enough to cut through the brainwashing - but how silly to imagine. Decades of trauma was washing over Bucky again and your little words couldn't cut through the barricades of his mind.

"Benign!"

"You stupid fucking little man!"

Zemo rounded around the cell, Bucky still pounding away at the glass. "Homecoming! One!"

"DON'T!"

"Freight car!"

You whimpered in fear when Bucky punched the entire door off the hinges, freeing him at last; but the words were spoken, the damage done. He crouched on the floor, Zemo pausing to take in the sight, slowly approaching Bucky as he stood upright; the jangling of your chains louder and more frantic as you tried to free your last wrist.

"Jesus Christ," you whispered, trying to divide focus between the two tasks of freeing yourself and protecting Bucky - but being terribly unsuccessful as you watched Zemo stand in front of your dead-eyed boyfriend.

What a ridiculous, mundane label to assign someone like Bucky.

In Russian, Zemo questioned, "Soldier?"

And in Russian, the man you loved answered, "Ready to comply."

Zemo demanded in English, "Mission report. December 16, 1991."

You whimpered in fear, listening to Bucky give the report that would haunt you for years to come. Just as he finished, you managed to get out of the cuffs, but the clanging of your freed restraints caught Zemo's attention - who smirked with abundant cruelty. "Don't," you warned, backing out of the room just as officers began to flood it.

It was a brutal fight, trying to stave off Bucky once in his Winter Soldier mindset. You grunted as he engaged you, men dead at your feet - the lucky ones just knocked out. You grit your teeth, trying to defend yourself as Bucky operated mechanically; doing what you could to protect yourself, but it wasn't enough.

Blows landed, punching and kicking one another in an equal match of strength and stamina.

"Seize her," Zemo demanded, and in the next moment, Bucky had you by the neck; an effort that made you wheeze and claw at his bionic hand.

"Bucky," you begged. "Baby - baby - it's me, it's me, please, don't, it's me! Don't do this, baby, please, come back to me. Come back!" You struggled in his grip, trying to pry his hand open, "Baby, please, please, come back to me," spit drooled from your lips as he squeezed tighter. "This isn't you!" You managed to squeeze out, tears surfacing. "Not anymore, don't let them win!"

"Shut her up, Solider," Zemo commanded in Russian, your eyes widening and trying to beg Bucky again before he was sending you into a wall. He marched up to you, grabbing your hair, and surging his balled up metal fist directly into the bridge of your nose, breaking it, head jolting backwards, and effectively knocking you out.

When you came back into consciousness, it was to Steve's worried face; his hands caressing your cheeks and begging, "You all right?"

"Fucking hell," you winced, reaching up to prod the tender spot on your head; revealing blood.

"Got your ass kicked, huh?" He frowned.

"Watch your language, Cap," you smirked, wincing when your face throbbed. "Shit, how bad is it?"

He looked you over, offering, "Definitely a broken nose."

"Goddamnit - where is he? Where's Bucky?"

"Help me," a voice pleaded from the next room, Zemo playing his part by splaying out on the floor like bait.

"Don't trust him, something ain't right about him, Steve," you whispered, waving him on as you sluggishly hoisted yourself up the wall to lean against it. "Kept asking about Siberia, asking about shit nobody should actually know."

"Get yourself safe," Steve told you swiftly, nodding at Sam; who was checking on the status of the other bodies around you.

"Just find him, Steve, he's lost in his own mind - a threat to himself," you panted, slowly standing.

"I know - "

"You don't know," you shook your head, wiping a trickle of blood from your temple, "but you're gonna have to do more than understand him right now, Steve."

"I've got this," he promised, watching you nod and limp away. You had just missed the action, Bucky overpowering both Sam and Steve; getting to a safety landing and running into Natasha, Tony, and Agent Sharon Carter.

"We'll hash our bullshit out later," you panted, "but for now - "

You heard a commotion behind you, flinching out of sight when Bucky made himself known and began taking down rogue agents unlucky enough to stand before the Winter Soldier.

"He have an off switch?" Nat asked.

"Not that I've found," you frowned. "Split up."

Tony tried to engage Bucky first, using a mobile Iron Man device he wore on his wrist that used sonics to disorient Bucky. It only worked to a small extent, the two exchanging a few blows, Bucky firing a bullet at Tony's face at pointblank range that was saved by his technologically advanced glasses. Bucky got the upper hand, sending Tony flying back, letting Sharon and Nat attack.

He disposed of them both easily, stumbling when you caught him off guard and wrapped your legs around him. Normally, you'd do anything to have your legs around him - but this wasn't one of those times. You exchanged several punches, blocking one another, going for disarming hits but being of equal challenge; leaving small cuts and blooming bruises on each other as if to prove the engagement. Natasha rejoined the fight, two Widows showing Bucky up on a few instances, but he was heaving her across the room as you swung onto his shoulders in an impressive acrobatic move.

You heaved your fists down in a repeated fashion on the top of his head, Bucky charging at one of the cafe tables; slamming you down and choking you again with his metal hand. Both your hands held his, legs up around his neck to try to keep him at a distance for relief on your windpipe.

Through a strangled breath, you managed, "You could at least recognize me!"

"Who said I don't?" He growled, reaching out to snap a piece of wood from a chair.

You tried to regain normal breath, wheezing, "This isn't you, baby, you are not this person anymore - you're not a psychotic, robot killer! You're a man - please!"

"You don't know a damn thing about me," he seethed.

"I know everything about you," you strangled, "and I know this isn't you. Come back to me, baby, please! Y-You can't let the demons win, Buck, please - fucking listen to me!" But he only raised the wooden shaft above his head. "BUCKY, DON'T!"

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

You cried out shrilly when he jabbed the sharp wood into your shoulder, staking you to the table just as King T'Challa rushed onto the scene and stole your brainwashed boyfriend's attention. You hissed in pain, trying to yank the wood free but being unsuccessful; resulting in blood to splatter onto the tiled floor.

Hearing someone pant your name, you caught a glimpse of red and knew it was Nat, her face worried over yours a moment later. "Where's Bucky?" You coughed and winced in pain.

"Goin' up by the looks of it," she informed, "now hang on, this is gonna hurt. Want a belt to bite?"

"No, just do it, get it done, please," you panted, bracing yourself, and suddenly, without warning, your companion heaved the piercing shaft free from your flesh. Naturally, you cried out, groaning and clenching your jaw so tight, it nearly crushed your teeth into dust.

"Hey, you seen..." Sam arrived on scene, taking in your injury, "Holy shit, you good?"

"Yeah," you grunted, stumbling to your feet as blood bloomed into a bigger, brighter blemish on your tactical shirt. "We gotta go, Sam, we should get outta here."

"Hang on," Nat paused you two, your opposite hand holding your wound; her hands occupied by a smart device, "looks like Bucky tried to highjack a helicopter. Steve stopped him, but it resulted in them all crashing in the river."

"Shit," Sam breathed. "We gotta go find them."

"We need to get outta here, you know, away from the cops and agents," your head shook. "Get somewhere safe, away from this catastrophe. We'll regroup with Steve."

"Go," Nat permitted, "I won't say a word."

"You're one of a kind, Nat," you praised, pecking her cheek. "Let's go, Sam. And grab that First Aid kit," you pointed to the wall where the white box was mounted. He agreed and you lead the way out of the facility.

Bucky groaned as he woke up, head lulling back before realizing he couldn't move his metal arm; finding it clamped in industrial weights. Sam called you both to attention, but while Steve jogged over, you remained in your place out of sheer distress.

You only vaguely listened to the conversation, hands trembling as your shoulder was bandaged to prevent further injury or infection. You did what you could to patch up any injury, and when you heard your name, you dialed in; Bucky asking, "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"You don't remember?" Sam sneered.

"No..."

"You stabbed her," the Falcon growled.

"What? N-No, I-I-I couldn't've - I wouldn't!"

"You did," Steve confirmed, pity coloring his words. "Punched her out pretty well, choked her, too. Broke her nose..."

"Please - Steve, please, tell me I didn't."

"I'm sorry, Buck."

"That why she's not here? She's in a hospital?"

"Actually, no," Sam trailed, "she's just in the other room."

"She didn't want to come here?"

Steve sighed as Sam informed, "Don't think she wants to see you right now, man."

"I didn't mean to hurt her."

"We know," Steve swiftly promised, nodding his head. "She knows it, too, you just have to give her some time."

Bucky looked utterly defeated, murmuring, "I scared her. Oh, my God, I scared her..."

"Gotta agree with you there."

"Sam," Steve reprimanded. "Look, Buck, she'll come around."

You waited until the two men left Bucky alone to regroup and stratify a new course of action. Slowly and almost sheepishly, you entered where Bucky was being kept, steps silent but he heard you anyways. His blue eyes flashed in concern as he met your gaze, mouth opening and closing as if words failed him.

"Doll," he finally breathed, "a-are you all right?"

"I'm okay."

"Don't bullshit me, how hard did I hit you? Steve said I broke your nose, I-I'm so sorry, doll, please believe me. What'd I do to your shoulder? Is that where I stabbed you?"

"Buck," you sighed, slowly squatting in front of him, "I need you to take a breath and know that I understand you were not in your right state of mind. You were forcibly triggered and sent back into that way of thinking, I know it wasn't you."

"I still hurt you, I still did it."

"Did you, though?" Your head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly, "Because I know my Bucky wouldn't hurt me, would never dare lay a hand on me - but the Winter Solider is a different story. You didn't do this, Buck, you weren't you."

"I can smell the fear on you."

"Well, yeah, it fuckin' scared me. I tried to stop that fake doctor, I tried to help, tried to save you and keep your safe. I'm sorry I was too slow, that I failed."

"You didn't fail anything, sweetheart... I-I failed you, I broke my promise to never hurt you."

"No, you didn't. The Winter Solider did all that, not my Bucky."

He frowned, repeating to ask softly, "Your Bucky?"

"My Bucky - the kind, charismatic, impossibly stubborn, kind hearted man I've loved the past couple of years who always gives me the crispiest fries, who has nightmares, who loves me unconditionally despite what I, too, have done in my past. And you know what I was doing out there while Sam and Steve talked to you?"

"What's that, doll?"

"Understanding that loving someone means loving their flaws, accepting them exactly as they are. So, while, yes, the Winter Solider scares the fuck outta me, he's still part of you and I can't authentically love you if I reject the Soldier."

His head shook "Your kindness is wasted on me."

"I think you should let me decide what's a waste and what's not when it comes to my own energy and emotion."

"I'm just gonna end up hurting you again. You're better off without me, baby, you and I both know you're better off keeping your distance. You should get out now while you still can."

"Not gonna happen. 'Cause you know what else I realized?" You reached up to caress his cheek, "I trust you beyond reasonable doubt, I trust you even if I'm afraid of the Winter Solider. I should've been faster, I should've helped you more, but I was powerless against that red notebook."

"You and I, both..."

You pet the cheek you were holding. "Buck, I know it was scary, I know how it must've felt being forced back into that mindset, but I want you to know that I'm in this for the long haul - you're not gonna scare me off. Because I love you, Bucky, and every single part of you - whether choking me out or not. Whether I earn a broken nose or not."

"I'm so sorry. I-I can't believe I did that, I'm so sorry, I hate that I hurt you. I'm so sorry, baby, I can't - I can't even put it in words how much I regret putting you in that position."

You smirked, "See? The Winter Soldier has no remorse, but my Bucky does." You gingerly reached out to curl his hair behind his ear. "My Bucky apologizes and takes accountability. There's no reason to not love that man - especially when he deserves it so much. Hey? Hear me? You deserve to be loved, too, Buck."

"And you deserve a man who doesn't run the risk of being turned into a psycho killing machine over a few measly words."

"I deserve to love my best friend, so let me do that. Say whatever you want, try to push me away - but I'm like a boomerang, baby, I'll just come right back."

"What kinda man puts his best girl in that kinda position? Who hurts the most important person in his life?"

"A man who endured decades of abuse," you laid your hands on either of his thighs, "a man who wasn't allowed control of his own mind. I can't - no, no, I won't fault you for that, Buck. Today wasn't your fault and I'll remind you of that as often as it takes. Don't you dare feel guilty because you didn't do this to me, okay? You didn't put me in any position - that fake fucking doctor did this, Agent Ross did this, special ops put us here. You, my sweet boy, didn't do anything to be at fault. You were trapped, but look at you now - freed, level headed, talking to me."

His eyes gleamed with a sheen of emotion, staring at the bloodied bandage wrapping your shoulder wound before his eyes danced over the bruising and other aftermath of your injuries. "I could've killed you," he muttered, tears filling his eyes.

"But you didn't - and surprisingly, neither did the Winter Soldier. Maybe there was a part of you still alive, wanting to refuse orders and not actually hurt me."

"Perhaps," he frowned. "I'm still so sorry, doll, I hate that I did this to you. It never should've happened."

Your head nodded, "I know, baby, and listen - I forgive you. Yeah? Hear me? I forgive you, this is in the past."

"Are you sure about me? You sure you wanna do this? Knowing I could flip a switch and hurt you - maybe even worse than today?"

"I'm sure about you, Buck," you agreed. "I don't wanna be without you, so, sign me up for whatever's to come."

"You might regret that."

"The only thing I could ever regret is abandoning you. I don't want to do this without you - I love our life together. In any world, in any lifetime, I'd still choose you. There's nothing that would make me regret you - regret being with you."

"You sure? I don't want to make you do anything out of your comfort."

"I love you, Bucky, yes, I'm sure. No matter what damage you think you might've caused, whatever damage has been done, I promise, that's not the truth. There's nothing about you that I could regret."

"Well, all that's left now is to get to Siberia, stop the other Winter Soldiers."

"And figure out a way to free your mind once and for all... It's what you deserve," you told him softly, rocking to your knees to meet his forehead with yours and caressing his cheek again. When you heard approaching footsteps, you sighed and pulled away from him to stand and turn, spying Sam and Steve. "C'mon, Cap, get him outta this. He's not gonna attack anyone," you requested, gesturing where your boyfriend was trapped.

"You sure?" Sam asked stiffly. "He did a real number on you alone. Not to mention all the other agents and cops he took out back there."

"He's good," you snapped, perking your brows at Steve, "and you two would do well not to throw what happened in his face, it wasn't his fault. So c'mon, free him, he's not a wild animal."

Steve agreed and lifted the machinery from Bucky's prosthetic, him instantly snatching it back and massaging where the joint met metal. Bucky stood with a set stare at Sam and Steve, as if anticipating them to lunge at him. His throat constricted, swelled with emotion when you stepped in front of him - posing barrier between the two Avengers and himself.

"You still got that phone on you?" Steve asked you softly.

"I do."

"Is it still unregistered?"

"You know it is. Who're we calling?"

"Reinforcements. We're gonna need help now that the Avengers will be looking for us. We gotta get to Siberia."

"Here," you agreed, unlocking the device and handing it over. "Who's first on your list?"

"Any Avenger who didn't sign the Sokovia Accords."

When he walked away with Sam again, you turned to face your lover directly; staring into swirling storms of baby blues. "You still with me?" You asked softly, reaching up to caress his hair again to push it behind his ear.

"Always. Got my six?"

"You know I do, baby," you smirked, stepping into his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. "We'll figure this out, together."

"Together," he agreed, sighing deeply and returning your embrace tightly. His flesh hand rose to hold the back of your head, bringing his lips down to lay a chaste kiss on the top of your head. His voice rattled quietly, "Thank you..."

"Hmm? For what, handsome?"

"Believing in me. It's nice to think we can end this torment."

You smiled up at him, "You deserve freedom, Bucky, and to live without this haunting fear."

"I don't know about 'deserving' it, sweetheart. Done a lot of things that would argue against that."

"Maybe against the Winter Soldier, but Bucky deserves the world. Deserves kindness, accommodation, love and understanding. Now," you smirked and sniffled, giving his waist another squeeze before releasing and pulling back, "get your head outta this pit and focus, we've got a long day ahead of us."

He agreed, letting you take his hand and lace fleshy fingers together in a tether. Sam's face remained stoic and passive, but when Steve saw you two, he couldn't help but smile. Two years he hunted for Bucky and just today, he's learned his best friend's been shacked up with you - a warmth blooming in his chest over the idea of you two finding one another and loving each other.

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xxsycamore · 9 months

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𝐍𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞

↬ 👖 Napoleon has a little problem dressing up for a date in the 21st Century. Luckily, the mansion's residents are there to give him fashion advice, divided into team Sexy, team Defense, and team Cute.

Napoleon Bonaparte x MC, ft. all residents ( Leonardo, Mozart, Arthur, Isaac, Dazai, Comte, Sebastian, Jean, Theo, Vincent, Shakespeare) • rating: G • tags: Humor; Crack; Dress Up • wordcount: 1,797 • masterlist

a/n: An early celebration for Napoleon's upcoming birthday, with the prompt Napo Style from my Napoleon Birthday Celebration 2023 event! Enjoy the chaos!

Thanks to The Door at Comte's mansion being fixed and thus allowing a safe trip through the time and space continuum, newer and cooler dating spots are now available for the mansion's lovebirds, Napoleon and MC! How exciting is that? The latter is especially enthusiastic about strolling the streets of 21st-century Paris and showing off her lover…

The former is currently losing his mind.

Because there is an hour left until they step into the vortex of time-traveling, and Napoleon has no idea how people in the future dress for a date. At all.

"This is a problem." Napoleon muses out loud as he paces back and forth in the mansion's lounge room. Of course, he's not alone there, in this house you never get a moment of privacy no matter where you are. Currently he shares his air with… Leonardo, Mozart, Arthur, Isaac, Dazai, Comte, Sebastian, Jean, Theo, Vincent, Shakespeare… wait, why are all of them here?! Even Shakespeare? Could it be that his worries are so prominently written on his face that the residents' gossip-meter was able to track it, and now they're bursting with curiosity?!

"Everything alright, Naps?" Arthur tests the waters, taking a noisy sip from his coffee.

"Yeah, you can always tell us if you have problems with your dating life. That's what friends are for." Theo chimes in, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"Problems with my dating life? No, it's just… I don't know how to dress up for the date. I thought that maybe I could just go with these clothes…?" Napoleon shrugs, fixing the lapels of his jacket.

"I strongly suggest you don't." Joins Mozart, closing the piano he was pretending to play as he listened in.

"Then what do I put on? MC will be ready in just a moment and she'll no doubt be stunning. Gods… Can any of you help me out?"

"We can."

"Alright old chap, come out whenever you're ready. Too bad that our team's idea is first and therefore it will put an early end to this fashion show." Arthur boasts confidently as he takes his place on the left along with his other team members, part of the Sexy team. As the curtain is dramatically swooshed to reveal Napoleon, the audience livens up in a cacophony of different murmurs…

Napoleon has no idea why the bunch targeted his favorite red curtain-- erm, cape, as the first thing to be removed from the outfit, but in a flash Napoleon sees it hanging from the staircase's railing and he understands. The small space behind the stairs becomes a makeshift changing booth… he does live with the smartest men in history after all. From there on, the smart ideas keep on coming as he steps behind the curtain and braces himself for accepting the various articles of clothing being handed to him to try on.

Napoleon poses awkwardly while trying to hide his attributes, the small cloth hiding his crouch area making it difficult as his pants have been reduced to just that, a loincloth that his trademark big belt holds together. His shirt too has suffered a massive reduction in length and now barely covers his chest, leaving his abs and stomach exposed, a similar thing done to his sleeves so the shirt now reminds more of a tank top of sorts. The golden epaulets from his jacket remain. His boots are untouched, at least. His look is completed with ruffled hair for a messier, sexier hairstyle.

"Ahem. As you may know, the 21st century is vastly different from our times in terms of dressing to impress… so to say, the meaning of that phrase is turned upside down!"

"Undress to impress!" With a finger in the air and a smile on his face, the most unlikely member of team Sexy, Vincent, hurries to add. Before Theo can collapse, Vincent backs up his (unbeknownst to him) scandalous vision with a little bit of his wisdom. "How nice that is, a world that celebrates the body instead of hiding it. Napoleon has a body that many would put on a canvas, and he should celebrate it!"

"Thank you, Vincent."

"Sebastian, why are YOU on this team?" Someone in the crowd asks.

Despite Arthur's confidence in winning this "competition", the other teams are more than eager to have their go in an attempt to beat his idea of modern fashion. After another round of handing stuff to the haphazardly changing behind the curtain Napoleon, a group of four residents get ready to present their idea.

With a perfect little nod, Sebastian says matter-of-factly, "Master Napoleon has a body that many would put on a canvas, and he should celebrate it."

With difficulty, a man in a knight's heavy full armor (that normally can be found in one of the hallways as a decoration) steps in front of the audience's eyes, who they can only assume is Napoleon, due to not a tad of his identity being visible underneath this "outfit".

As a leader of Team Defense, Jean turns to the audience to explain. "The modern world is filled with dangers we're unaware of. Napoleon should prioritize his safety," he eyes his teammate, Shakespeare, who is ready to take the word next: "As well as the safety of his beloved. Thus he clothes in steal and prepares a heavy blade, or a dozen; if the chance arises, he shall defeath all that's on his path, in the name of her!"

As Napoleon hears the signal, he demonstratively takes out a spear, a chain mace, a war hammer, a longsword…! The audience takes a step back.

"They're right. You never know what's out there. There might be cats." Theo nods approvingly, slapping Napoleon's armor as if to test its durability. The last member of team Defense, Mozart, is ready with his own argument.

"Everything there must be dirty. This will protect him from exposure."

Still, this can't end without the final third team showcasing their own unique idea of dressing up Napoleon. And besides, the mansion's daddy, Comte, being a leader of this team is enough to make everyone quiet down and pay attention.

It's a shockingly good argument.

"And finally, team Cute. Because you, my dears, are forgetting a key element of what our fashion show is about, and that is helping our Napoleon win his girl's heart all over again, in a different time, in a different world. We must look from the eyes of MC. And a lady like her, oh her heart surely sings at the sight of everything that can be called cute. She'll swoon and melt as she witnesses Napoleon embracing his inner adorableness; that is for sure!"

Without further ado, Napoleon steps forward, revealing his outfit that for some reason troubles his walking more than the armor from before… the reason might be the tight corset Comte put him in, one made for men nonetheless, but still making it hard for the soldier to act naturally wearing. Especially combined with those high-heeled boots! There's not a trace of any dark colors anywhere to be seen, from frilly innocent whites to sunny yellows to baby pinks, he's dolled up like a little prince from a fairytale. His hair which is the only color out of place, is densely covered in small hairclips, that are not exactly Comte's style, so there might be put there by…

"Napo-chan is so kawaii with the little hair accessories I put on him. I'm convinced MC won't resist kissing you all over."

"Why am I on this team?!" Laments Isaac, whose contribution is narrowed down to an apple he found laying around… surprisingly, posing with the apple does add cute points to Napoleon's look, as much as the physicist hates to admit. He's only on this team because he refused to join in the absurdity of the other two…

"They're right, Naps." Leonardo agrees with a hand on his chin. "I've heard cara-mia gush all over you being cute when you make a slip-up from your mister perfect persona. Be a little clumsier and clueless. She'll find it charming."

Napoleon hums and looks at the palms of his glove-clad hands, a little lost. "I'm, uhhh… not so sure what you mean."

"That's it, just like that."

"Okay, that's all, which team won?" Arthur asks impatiently, not very amused about the fact that his coffee mug is now empty.

"That's for Napoleon to decide. What do you think, Napoleon?"

Napoleon takes a look at all the faces lit up in expectation, and makes a "wait" gesture as he disappeared behind the curtain again. A few seconds later he is out, dressed in what appears to be an untouched replica of his original outfit, but almost hidden beneath various items that each of the teams can recognize as their own.

"You all joined forces to help me, so the answer can only be a combination of your efforts. With this, I'm confident about covering all bases necessary for a successful date with my Nunuche. Thank you."

"Spoken like a true leader!" Dazai cheers, instantly approving the idea.

The door swings open as MC walks in at a fast pace, hurrying to collect Napoleon's hand and take him away. She's dressed in a simple sundress and wearing her light pink bag over a shoulder with the little Mousette charm hanging from it.

"There you are Napoleon, we're going to be late for our date…! What are you wearing?"

Napoleon makes a troubled humming noise as he shakes off item after item, throwing them in different directions as they clatter against the floor and roll off somewhere. He's back in his day-to-day outfit.

"Nothing much. Nunuche, the truth is… you're stunning. I didn't want to disappoint you. I'm sorry but I couldn't find anything to dress up for our date."

"Oh? What are you talking about, we're going to get you dressed up right now! As soon as we step out of the door we'll go to my friend Mai's boutique and you can have a full Comtherapy!"

"…I…What's a Comtherapy?"

"A Comte-therapy! A shopping therapy, dummy! He even gave me money to dress you up this morning! Thank you, daddy Comte!"

"You're welcome, ma cherie."

"COMTE? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US?" a bunch of voices speak up at the same time.

"Why, my dearest residents and I were having so much fun. Who am I to spoil it?"

Amidst the chaos, Napoleon and MC begin to laugh, their hands still intertwined because of MC's earlier attempt to sneak Napoleon out of the rowdy room. Napoleon smirks and takes the lead, leaving the residents to their wits.

"Come on, Nunuche. Let's go on our date."

MC swoons and gawks, following right after.

"Gods Napoleon, you're so charming!"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @my-day6 Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

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tayovampr · 8 months

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How Gossip Spreads Through The Mansion.

ikemen vampire headcannons

( warnings? ) none. ( notes? ) THIS HEADCANNON CONTAINS MY OC. just a few thoughts about how these vampires are extremely nosy and love to spread false information unknowingly :0

It all begins in the kitchen. As the coffee brews for the mansions residents, our lovely helpers: Sebastian, Mitsuki (Y/n) and Temi seem to be cooking up some trouble…

Mitsuki would unintentionally reveal something that happened thorough out the day. Maybe it was something she overheard while shopping, on the balcony or watching Napoleon and Jean spar. She always tells Sebastian and Temi what she hears about the residents—since Sebastian has that interesting hobby of his.

“Hey Sebastian, Temi?” Mitsuki calls out to the two as they washed the dishes. Sebastian was scrubbing, Temi was rinsing, and Mitsuki was drying and polishing.

The two turned their heads to look at their friend, wondering what was the matter.

“I was in Comte room earlier helping him open up some letters, and that’s when I came across this one letter. Now mind you, it was scented, had a very prestigious emblem on the wax and included a dried rose in it.” Mitsuki began.

“Le Comte gets letters like that all the time.” Sebastian responded. “Was there something special about it?”

“Well, it clearly came from a girl. And when Comte read it, he was so happy! I mean I never saw him like this before, but it makes me think if he has a secret lover—” Before Mitsuki could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by Temi, who had accidentally dropped a plate into the sink, causing the water to splash up at her.

“Secret lover?!” She exclaimed in disbelief. “What makes it worse is that it’s believable…”

“What if she’s a vampire bombshell who was childhood friends with him and lives in a gothic castle lavished in red and riches? I can’t compete in that race…” Temi grumbled afterwards. Sebastian however looked at the two thoughtfully.

“Well, we’ll do no good sitting here pondering. At dinner let’s go ask Le Comte ourselves.”

Most of the times, it’s something tame. No big deal, and not needing of attention. But as always, if your trying to keep a secret in a mansion full of nosy vampires with supersonic hearing—you better believe this game of telephone will spiral out of control.

Isaac, surprisingly, is the main catalyst for this disaster. Jean coming in a close second. ( I mean, you can see it in some events when it’s almost always these two mishearing something (*´▽`*) )

But it would always be unintentional! Isaac would just walk past an open door and when he heard something shocking, he couldn’t help to stop and get a closer ear. Jean on the other hand wouldn’t stop. He would take the bits and pieces he heard and formulate them in his mind, completing the story for himself.

‘Comte has a lover?’ Isaac thought to himself as he listened in to the conversation. ‘Why has he been hiding it from us all this time? Well—I could understand. I hope he introduces us to her…’

‘That rascal!’ Jean grit his teeth when he heard the news. Although heard would be a stretch. ‘Playing with Temi and Mitsuki’s heart even though he has a women of his own. I will get him to confess…’

And now we have three stories. The truth, an assumption, and a incomplete statement. Which one will travel throughout the mansion quicker?

Jean obviously tells Napoleon and Mozart. It slips out during their sparring lessons, and he tells Mozart on a whim—since they’re friends.

“Wait so—Comte is married?” Napoleon exclaims, as he puts his sword back into its hilt. Jean nods, sitting down of the ground to catch his breathe.

“He has refused to tell us about his secret lover for this long. It makes you wonder what else he has been keeping from us…” Napoleon loosely claims, wiping the sweat that adorned his forehead.

Jean however was thinking in his head, that he was right all along not to trust him. “That shady man…”

With Mozart, he looked a bit confused. “There is just no way Comte is married Jean, did he tell you himself?”

Then for Isaac, the words accidentally slip when he was getting teased by Arthur and Dazai. Of course, these were the worse people to tell out of everyone in the mansion.

Arthur applauded Comte on his fruitfulness. Claiming that it takes skill to hid a lover for so long. While Dazai takes this information with interest. It just so happened when he was scaling the windows, he overheard Mozart and Jean’s discussion.

For Dazai, he didn’t really believe this. As he saw in the music room, Jean wasn’t sure who he heard this information from. But being chaotic as Dazai is, he naturally wanted to be included in the fun. So he often changes up the story.

“How sly of Comte, it seems that he has not only hid his secret wife, but the fact that she will be moving in to live with us soon. Isn’t that great Ai-kun? Lovers reunited at last.” With these words Dazai left, not daring to explain anything.

“Move in with us? By Jove, you would think that old man would tell us before making the decision?” Arthur comments with a sigh.

Dazai doesn’t tell anyone else after that. He is more interested in seeing how this spreads and which one would reach Comte’s ear first. Arthur however tells his best buddy Theo. Theo tells Vincent and Vincent tells Shakespeare. By now the rumor has morphed into something unbelievable.

“Comte is a pathological liar who is hiding his wife from the residents and is planning to make her move in with them because she is expecting soon.” Don’t ask how.

Leonardo hears about this from Temi, who asks if Comte had a lover. Leonardo laughs and answers not anymore—wondering why she was asking.

“Are ya worried about “Comte’s” love life cara mia?” Leonardo jokingly asks.

Although he was joking in that moment, it just confirmed his suspicions that something was spreading in the mansion. Throughout the whole day Leonardo was hearing bits and pieces of a story that including Comte—so it was time he saw the truth for himself.

When he gets to Comte’s room he wastes no time to ask him about it.

“Have you just been in your room all day? Looks like you don’t know what’s happening outside.” Comte looks up from the papers he was sorting at Leonardo, a confused look on his eyes.

“Outside?” He asks, to which Leonardo takes out a cigarillo and begins to light it.

“Yeah…something about you being a compulsive liar who is hiding his pregnant wife from us—it gets a bit tricky because half are saying she’s gonna move in with us, and half are saying your gonna move in with her.”

Comte is just astounded. He just stares blankly at Leonardo…an awkward laugh sounding from his throat. “…Really?” Is all he could muster, as Leonardo begins to laugh.

“See I knew it wasn’t true. But you know might as well confirm before I do damage control right?”

Comte was still shocked. After all he’s done from the residents, was this how easy it was for their views to change—and when did he get a pregnant wife?

“For these being the great men I choose to revive…I wonder how great their intuition really is…” Comte mumbles to himself.

“Well, let’s go straight if things out. I’m fairly certain I know who started this.” Leonardo claims, laughing to himself. “I want to know where the story changed too.”

The residents were all gathered for dinner, the main goal being to clear up the misconceptions. Each person was made to go around and tell what they heard and what they believed, and from there they traced it down to Mitsuki, Isaac and Jean.

Mitsuki explains her thinking to Comte, I’m which he clarifies that he has no secret lover and that the letter was just from an old friend he saved years ago.

Everyone breathes out a sigh of relief. It looked like none of them were ready for a new arrival. And some, specifically Mozart, wasn’t particularly fond on a baby crying and running around…

#tayovampr #ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚#ikemen vampire #ikemen series #ikemen vampire fanfic #cybird ikemen #ikevamp #ikemen vampire headcanons #leonardo da vinci #comte de saint germain #mozart #isaac newton #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire x reader

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klutzyroses · 1 year

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IkeVamp: S/o jealous of their wife

What happens when his wife from his former life is revived and lives in the mansion but he has a girlfriend now? And she begins to feel insecure and worried that he will leave her for his former love and is scared to tell him?

Suitors: Napoleon, Mozart, Arthur

Warnings: Bit of Angst with a Happy Ending, Slight NSFW

Napoleon

When she first laid eyes on Josephine de Beauharnais, Y/N felt the slightest twinge of discomfort in her stomach.

She was, is a beautiful woman, no question about it. Intimidatingly so.

At first she pushes down the tense knot in her stomach. Napoleon is with her. Napoleon loves her.

"But for how long...?"

The little voice in her head prods, leaving a deep dent on her heart even as she shoves it away. When Napoleon and Josephine begin to spend time together, it's like they were never apart. They seem to break any tension present between them like it was nothing, within days. They talked, laughed together and reminisced together. They clearly had a strong bond and reconnected so seamlessly, so effortlessly and it bothered her to no end. To hear them discuss the pass, laugh over their shared moments.

Y/N didn't want to admit it to herself and especially not to him but...It hurt. It hurt to see the man she loved connect with another woman on such a deep level. Worse still, it was to be expected. She was his first wife after all, and she had heard from Sebastian that historically, Napoleon was absolutely smitten with her.

He wasn't doing anything wrong. It was perfectly innocent, friendly play. But she can't help but worry as she gazes upon the beautiful empress. She was beautiful, powerful, elegant...everything Napoleon deserved...everything she felt she wasn't.

Y/N didn't want to seem controlling, nor did she wish to get into the habit of dictating who he could or could not be friends with. So she stuffs down her feelings and kept reassuring herself that he wasn't going to leave her.

With that in mind, she keeps a bright smile for her loved one, yet they bubble just beneath the surface, waiting for just the slightest mishap...

That mishap came in the form of a joke made by Arthur. She had been serving dinner to everyone alongside Sebastian when...

"I say, you're quite the pair, 'Leon, it's like the two of you are still married!"

CRASH!!

Several eyes turn to Y/N, startled as she stands there looking like someone had plunged a knife into her, her grip loosening on the plate in her hand. She yelps and fumbles, frantically mumbling apologies to Sebastian and promises to clean up. When a concerned Vincent asks if she is okay, her answer is a flustered affirmation, but the Emperor can sense a crack in her voice, a sadness in her eyes before she rushes off into the kitchen after cleaning it up. His worry amplifies when his nunuche never comes back.

Her room is his first destination after dinner. He can feel his heart twisting upon entry when he sees his belle sat on the bed, her shoulders shaking as she dabs her eyes with a tissue, illuminated by the moonlight streaming through her window.

He doesn't hesitate to take her in his arms, tilting her head up so they were eye to eye.

"What happened nunuche? Tell me what's wrong?"

When she blurts out everything she is and has been feeling, it's Napoleon’s turn to feel like he's been stabbed in the heart. He cups both her face, his jade eyes stern and almost fiery with passion as he speaks.

"You're ridiculous. Why are you thinking like that, nunuche? Why didn't you tell me? Don't you remember...I was reborn in this world to be with you, as a normal man, living only to protect and love you. Your body, your heart and your mind...I'm not going to let them go so easily. Josephine and I, that's in the past, I love her, but as a friend. You, though....you are my future, Y/N. You're the only one for me."

His lips gently collide with hers, pressing until the woman falls on her back onto the bed, the Emperor climbing on top of her. When he pulls back, his eyes are alight with desire and love, a smirk finding its way across his handsome face as he peers into her lovely, flushed visage.

"You're the only one, ma nunuche. And I'm going to prove it."

Mozart

Meeting Constanze Mozart was a...slight awkward affair. Especially when Y/N was introduced as Mozart's lover.

Of course she didn't shy away from her, Y/N had nothing to be ashamed of, and it wasn't as though Mozart didn't make it clear that he had moved on with her.

However, that doesn't make her feel any better when she realizes how close Mozart and Constanze were and...still kind of are.

They clearly have a deep, profound mutual understanding for one another and he seems so soft and gentle with her. The way Y/N saw it from where she stood, it took ages for her lover to start warming up to her and Constanze seemingly had him as putty already. It felt like being punched in the stomach.

Historically, Mozart was possessive and positively enamored with his wife and his current love could definitely see why. The lovely Constanze is graceful and beautiful and her singing voice is like no other. No wonder she used to have Mozart wrapped around her pretty finger. Y/N's worry is that she may still have him wrapped around her finger.

She doesn't want to start any kind of argument by potentially bringing her feelings of insecurity into it. Mozart himself may be the jealous type but it felt like a different story entirely when the woman that Y/N was jealous of was the wife he once adored. No matter how she puts it in her head, any attempts at bringing it up sound accusatory and that is the last thing she wants.

So, just to get a sense of whatever she may need to worry about, she asks Jean his opinion, as he is the person closest to him and could understand his mindset.

Jean, for his part, may have not had much to say about Mozart's closeness to his former wife, but he does share that he genuinely believes Y/N had no reason to worry, which assuages the beauty's concern slightly.

However, the girl should have perhaps specified to Jean that this exchange was to remain between the two of them and was not supposed to get back to Mozart.

Because when a very unhappy musiciam marches up to her that evening, Y/N knows. She just knows.

She doesn't fight him as he drags her off to his room, instead keeping her gaze to the ground the whole time, trying to find any words that could ease the situation, but she doesn't get the chance to speak as her elysian lover speaks first, looking less than pleased, his violet eyes slightly crackling with displeasure.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She contemplates playing dumb to stall for time but the darkening of his eyes deters her from doing so. He looks upset...really, really upset.

"The truth, Y/N."

She has no choice but to unload her fears and concerns to him in a torrent of emotion, having bottled it up far longer than her sweet heart could take. She feels her throat begin to close up at the end of it, unable to say much more as she glances upwards to avoid her beautiful orbs overflowing with tears. Not once does Mozart interrupt or even speak. He doesn't even seem to visibly react, even after her weak voice trails off. Not until he starts making his way over to her, slowly, silently, but with a hint of menace in his step, causing his beloved to take a step back until she meets the wall.

Soon she is caged by both his arms as he leans in close to her, a serious expression written into his porcelain features, leaving her unable to escape anywhere. Not that she particularly wants to at that moment.

"...If I had known you were going to be this foolish, I'd have reconsidered spending that much time with her. I thought you were smarter than that but apparently I thought wrong."

His words are harsh but his expression begins to soften as he keeps her caged in close to him, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

"I assumed you knew. You are the precious treasure of my life. I've told you that before, haven't I? What part of that wasn't clear to you? Even when I'm with her, all I think about is you as I compose. Make no mistake, mein Schatz, I have no intention of letting you go. And I most definitely do not appreciate you going to another man about your problems. From now on, I demand you come to me, for whatever you need. I won't have it any other way."

He catches a stray droplet of sadness sliding down her cheek, caressing her skin with long delicate fingers before gripping her chin. He gives her a slow, sultry simper that promises nothing short of pleasure.

"It seems like I have to remind you of how much you mean to me. I hope you're ready, because I won't be going easy on you."

Arthur

Upon meeting Jean Elizabeth Leckie, Arthur's second wife, Y/N knows immediately why he had been so captivated by her. She was a kind and likeable woman and treated her with respect.

She was charming, lovely, honestly. And that's probably what has her heart tightening up so much when the charming lady smiles at Arthur.

This only gets worse when Arthur seems to respond with an equally charming smile.

Y/N can't help but wonder if there might just a little spark still left between them. They were still so in sync after all. Of course she wouldn't say this aloud, especially when Arthur is so open about the fact that Y/N is the only apple of his eye now.

For the woman, it's bad enough that she has to put up with her boyfriend's past flings and admirers throwing themselves at him, sometimes while she is there, not that she blamed Arthur for this, but now here is a woman who at one point, genuinely and truly had his love.

Y/N can only blame herself for asking Sebastian what the relationship between Arthur and Jean was, only to receive the tortuous answer that his last words to Jean were that she was wonderful. She honestly walked right into that one.

She doesn't want to confront him, simply because she knows that if she asks, Arthur would distance himself from Jean and potentially lose a friend or...someone he really cares about.

And that is not the type of girlfriend she wishes to be. She doesn't want to be the kind of girlfriend that makes Arthur choose between her and his friends. The kind that makes him wary of who to be friends with. She wants to believe she is open minded, she wants to be understanding, she doesn't want to smother him. After all, isn't that the easiest way to drive away the man she loves?

So the only thing she could really do is smile and act normal. After all, Arthur hasn't done anything wrong. He is only reconnecting with someone he was close with. Being friends with one's former lover wasn't a bad thing. She should be proud of him in fact. Most people didn't get on with their ex-spouses, no?

With that logic, she is able to rationalize her jealousy and stop it from getting out of hand...for a bit.

However, her depressed demeanor does not go unnoticed by her beloved detective. The mystery author is not blind. He could see that lately, his darling has been feeling blue as of late. He suspects it might have something to do with Jean. He isn't absolutely sure but he suspects it.

However, this is only confirmed when he stumbles upon a conversation between the house butler and his love.

Y/N felt low enough that night to confide in Sebastian as they're doing the dishes together. Just to alleviate some of the worries she was feeling deep down.

"Sebastian...am I overreacting? I'm being ridiculous aren't I? Being so upset about nothing."

"I think it's more ridiculous you're invalidating yourself. I personally don't believe you should be worried, but I understand why you are. Master Arthur will too."

"Sebastian...I don't want to tell him who he can and can't be around, that's not fair. I don't want to be...that kind of girlfriend."

Sebastian nods in understanding, a look of sympathy in those grey eyes before they peer over the maiden's head and land on the doorway, realizing he and Y/N were no longer alone, unlike the oblivious beauty herself.

"Well, I personally think, luv, that he knows you are a wonderful person and he would never think so lowly of you. I also think that there is no woman in the world that is more loved by me than you, my darling."

The girl spun around, her eyes wide with sheepish shock as her butler colleague hides a surreptitious smile. The writer walks up to her and takes her hand kissing the top of it.

"I'd have preferred you just talked to me about it, love, but I'm glad to hear the truth. Now I can do something about it. Sebas, you don't mind if I steal this lovely lady for the night?"

With Sebastian's permission, Y/N finds herself swept off her feet. Quite literally as she is carried away towards Arthur's room, a suggestive smile playing on his lips.

"You may want to postpone any plans you may have had this evening, because I plan on keeping you to myself tonight. Prepare yourself, luv~"

🌸

#cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp headcanons #ikemen vampire headcanons

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 5 months

Text

Francis Drake Main Story

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors.

Drake, who pointed his blade at us, disappeared into the darkness.

After the chaotic night had passed, I remained locked in my room, hugging my knees on the bed.

(Drake...)

All I can think about is what happened last night and him.

------------Flashback-----------

Mitsuki: "Drake..."

Mitsuki: "Was it all a lie?"

Drake: "........."

Mitsuki: "All the time we spent together, the laughter we shared..."

Drake: "Yeah, that's right."

Drake: "I betrayed you, Mitsuki."

---------Flashback Ends--------

Each time I recalled that moment, my chest tightened, and tears started welling up.

(Drake, why?)

(Did you approach me with that intention from the beginning?)

(Even though you risked yourself to save me from the hunters, if everything you'd shown me—your face, your words—was all a lie, then during that night we were intimate, there wasn't a piece of your heart in it.)

Mitsuki: "Tell me, Drake."

I buried my face in the sheets, tightly gripping them.

At that moment, my heart was in a jumbled mess of sorrow, doubt, and the desire to blame him.

Napoleon: "Mitsuki, can I come in?"

(Napoleon...)

Mitsuki: "Yes, come in."

Wiping away my tears, I sat up on the bed, and Napoleon, who opened the door, looked at me and gave me a caring smile.

Napoleon: "You should at least turn on the light."

He placed a tray with soup, bread, and salad on the table.

The delicious aroma tickled my nose, but I couldn't bring myself to touch it.

Without saying anything, he approached me and spoke.

Napoleon: "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

I nodded, and he sat on a chair, speaking calmly.

Napoleon: "Others are also confused about Drake, including Comte and Leonardo. They're unsure how to take it."

Napoleon: "When Drake first appeared, we were somewhat wary of him. But then he quickly fit into the mansion."

Napoleon: "He was reliable when it mattered, like during the incident with the hunters."

Napoleon: "Plus, I felt comfortable around him because you looked happy when you were with him."

Napoleon: "There were moments where we might have glimpsed his true nature, but we let it slide."

Mitsuki: “That's not anyone's fault."

When I raised my head, he looked straight at me.

Napoleon: "If you are his target, he might come after you again."

Napoleon: "Some suggest we should find Drake before anything bad happens to you."

Mitsuki: "It's not just me. Everyone is in danger."

Mitsuki: "Drake kinda holds a grudge against both humans and vampires."

(Although I don't know the root of that hatred.)

He's got this spear-turned-knife that can take down purebloods.

If we don't keep an eye on him, who knows when he might strike again.

Napoleon: "But we have no idea where he could be hiding."

Napoleon: "We know less about him than we thought."

Napoleon let out a bitter smile, and I shook my head.

Mitsuki: "I don't know either. Even though I was always with him."

Mitsuki: "I never expected him to do something like this."

"See? I told you. You believed and ended up losing."

The words Drake once said echoed in my mind, piercing through me.

(Should I not have believed in you, Drake?)

Bitter feelings welled up again, and I clenched my fist tightly.

Napoleon: "What he did last night is unacceptable."

Napoleon: "Not to mention hurting you, especially since you were quite fond of him."

Mitsuki: “...........”

Napoleon: "But I can't believe everything about him was a lie."

Napoleon stood up and gently opened the curtain to gaze at the night sky.

His eyes seemed to be searching for truth in the pitch-black darkness.

Napoleon: "We don't know his intentions for living with us."

Napoleon: "If he had that knife, he could have gotten rid of us much earlier, including you."

He turned to face me.

Napoleon: "If you were really in his way, he would have had plenty of chances to kill you."

(He's right.)

It would be easier to kill someone like me than to kill a vampire.

Napoleon: "Besides, considering last night's situation, even if someone attempted to kill a pureblood, someone would've likely intervened."

Napoleon: "Especially someone as experienced in fighting as Drake."

Napoleon listed each point, and I desperately tried to process them in my mind.

(So, did Drake deliberately attack us?)

It was as if he was showing his betrayal.

Mitsuki: "Did his actions yesterday have a different motive?"

When I asked, Napoleon looked at me intently.

Napoleon: "This is just my speculation, but I feel like his pointing a blade at us might have been just a pretext."

Napoleon: "I have a feeling that he wants something from you, specifically."

Napoleon left the room, and silence once again filled the air.

I held the gun that Drake entrusted to me and stared at it intently.

(Napoleon was right. If it were Drake, he could have killed me anytime he wanted.)

(So why didn't he do that?)

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: "Mitsuki, if I betray you, don't hesitate to pull the trigger." Drake: "The moment you hesitate, I will take everything from you until your body, heart, and destiny are shattered."

(Now that I think about it, he even entrusted me with this gun and gave me that warning.)

(It's like he was hinting that he was going to betray me.)

Drake: “You really can smile and say you don’t mind being betrayed, huh?” Drake: "For me, betrayal meant death." Drake: "If I betray someone, I do it with the understanding that I may die. If I'm betrayed, I'll chase the other person to the ends of the earth for revenge." Drake: "If I can't achieve revenge, then I'll curse everything in this world." Drake: "Remember what I told you to do when I betrayed you." Drake: "I won't hesitate to kill you and the ones you care about." Drake: "So, Mitsuki, what will you do?"

---------Flashback Ends--------

I recalled the words he spoke and the expressions he showed me.

(Is he trying to make me seek revenge on him?)

When I talked about how I wanted to believe in people and was willing to be betrayed, he gave me a cold look and said it was a naive idea.

(So, is he provoking me because of our conflicting beliefs?)

(But is it really just that?)

(After all, Drake treated me kindly and saved me when I was in danger.)

------------Flashback-----------

Drake: “I don’t know why, but despite your ridiculously naive thinking, I can’t ignore that you secretly feel sad behind that stubborn kindness.”

Even if our perspectives were different, we gradually drew closer.

Drake: “Next time, it’s my turn. If something happens to you, I will definitely help. I promise.”

Living amidst betrayal, he promised me that he wouldn't betray me.

I believed that he wouldn't betray me.

Drake: "Sorry to keep you waiting, fawn." Mitsuki: "Drake, why...?" Drake: "I promised I'd always come to your aid if something happened, remember?"

---------Flashback Ends--------

His dazzling smile, confident grin, and occasional coldness were all so attractive that I fell in love with him.

The memories that should have crumbled and fallen apart after being betrayed resurface one by one, mending my fragile heart.

(Even if the days we spent together were meant for betrayal, my feelings for him that were born within me are not a lie.)

(This is my own precious feeling.)

I held the gun entrusted to me by him close to my chest, as if embracing my own heart.

(I still don't know the real him.)

(I don't want to blame or avoid him without knowing anything.)

Francis Drake. A dhampir with both human and pureblood vampire blood.

He was a mysterious person who entered the mansion through a door that crosses time and space, holding a spear that could kill pureblooded vampires.

(I want to know the real you.)

I want to know what you are thinking and what you want from me.

(I will find you and put an end to this love.)

The next day—

I left a note at the mansion saying I would look for Drake and went to town.

I visited the Seine River and the taverns, but he was nowhere to be found. He wouldn't show up in such familiar places anymore.

(That's right. There's still that place.)

Recalling another place of interest, I followed my memory and headed there.

(This place...)

I wandered through back alleys and finally arrived at the place where he had bitten me.

I remembered that he seemed familiar with this place.

(Is this someone's house? Or is it his hiding place?)

Mitsuki: "Drake, are you here?"

When I called out, all I got in response was a dead silence.

I walked around the room without sensing anyone's presence and found it.

Mitsuki: "Is this door the same as the one in the mansion!?"

The color and design were different, but they looked exactly the same.

(Is this the door Drake used to come to the mansion?)

I approached the door and noticed it was slightly ajar.

(He's beyond this door.)

I had no evidence, but still, I placed my hand on the door and stepped into the hallway that stretched into endless darkness.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp drake #ikevamp jp #ikevamp francis #ikevamp translations #cybird #francis drake

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hisui555 · 20 days

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Hazbin Hotel Thoughts : Alcohol, Part 2 !

Part 1 here (Hazbin Crew)

Part 3 here (Heaven's side)

Masterpost here

So, just for your information. Last post has the record of gathering the quickest notes in the least time. Now that the Vees and other Overlords (but mainly the Vees, let's not kid ourselves) are on this one, wonder how it will fare. I think I already know the answer. Now let's jump to it.

The Vees

While they're all seen having a drink in the conference room, they haven't been seen nor mentioned getting inebriated, so it's mostly speculation from there.

Vox, from his personality, could cycle between "emotional", "nostalgic", and "pathetic", ranging from a hyper, super-excited guy that tries to one-up everyone to a sobbing mess because Alastor left meeeee...! and embarrass himself - well, not much of a change from his sober self, in retrospect. He would hold it relatively well though, have a bit of resilience until the watergates open, but the more Vox drinks, the closer he gets to the "emotional" side of it. On a darker side, he could also be the "violent" and "angry" type of drunk, especially around the middle of the slippery slope : not outright trying to get into fights but sure not stopping once it has started until he has gouged something out of someone, or someone out of something. But I can also see him being the "denying" type, trying to make people believe he's way less drunk than he actually is - he'll hide it well (having practice as a multimedia CEO and colleague babysitter)... for a while. The more he drinks the more cracks in the façade appear, at which point everyone can see he's sloshed even through a blindfold but won't peep a word unless they want to provoke the wrath of the TV man. The next mornings are spent deliberately avoiding eye-contact with him and editing everything out of feed themselves as to not tip him off either, and pretending collective amnesia (or even better : "Oh I wouldn't know, Mr Vox, I was too drunk !"). Blissful ignorance.

Vox would be somewhat around a normal weight, though he could outlast Charlie by a few glasses, but like Alastor if he downs a whole bottle he's done for. The only difference between them is that they would have their hints of tipsyness inverted : Vox would be physically clumsy but able to perfectly rant like Robin Williams with almost perfect pronounciation, while Alastor can keep up no problem on the dancefloor but have his words tying in knots and stumbling upon themselves like the screwiest pretzel. Well, that, and having their gazes slightly out of focus, a looser 100-watts grin and still talking to that poor coatrack in the corner that didn't asked for it - though Vox might be able to better differenciate things from living things, he's just unaware he's asking the wrong person about his pitch sale of demonic baby powder with abestos inside.

Velvette would be the "competitive" drunk, and the "cranky" one. On normal she already thinks everything and everyone is pants-on-head retarded, so a drunk Velvette might be able to dish out so much piling up verbal abuse you'd need wings to stay above it. She'd also be the "susceptible" type : breathe one word wrong and she's at your throat, whether it's someone way more powerful than her or not. Kinda the embodiment of yeah keep your eyes on Napoleon there, she's gonna start something we're gonna finish (absolutely not my 5' arse even when sober with my 6'4" friends in gatherings. Nope. Nnnnnope.) she'll promise to destroy you on every social media platform she mans or owns, and by the time she's right as rain again only remembers half of it. But she WILL want to know what went down, to turn it to her advantage and erase every instance of recorded poor decisions on her part. What's worse with her is that, like Lucifer, you can't really tell she's boozed up : it looks so much like her everyday attitude, only worse (congrats on that) that the only evidence will be the multiplying number of empty glasses and the diminishing levels of whatever's inside the bottles. The only metric you could go by is how fast she snaps when angry - if it's something in the milliseconds instead of the centiseconds, yep, she has a few glasses in her already. She'll still be coherent and girlbossing through it like a champ, busting out moves that would lead an Olympic pro skater into the Paralympics instead, and have astounishing eye for details despite her plastered state, as if it accrued her already good sense of picking up small things (only, again, to remember half of it once the rush goes down).

She'll probably hold better than what her weight and stature suggests, possibly outdrinking Vox, though not to the point of Angel, or Husk. She'll start feeling something around the 15th glass possibly, and by 20-22 is assuredly smashed, but hiding it rather well (undeliberately, it just doesn't really show on her) but I wouldn't want to be around her for the morning after, boy.

Valentino, hoooo sweet mother of god and all her wacky nephews, now he'll be something. As a pimp who regularly uses drugs and his various aphrodisiac/narcotic powers, smoke included, he'll be rather resistant, because he built said resistance overtime, and his lifestyle very much helps with that. He'll hold his own fairly well, but when he reaches the point of being three sheets to the wind, he goes down HARD. A slurry, half-coherent mess that just lets his body do its thing on its own, with bouts of sudden energy before crumbling down in a heap again. Don't ask him to dance unless you want yourself, and everyone else around, ending up in a hospital : him and a drunk Vox could take out everyone in a 10 meter radius during a slow waltz. Given his temperament, Val would hop from "angry" and "violent" type (unlike Vox, he will seek out the fights and shoot at the slightest provocation) to "seducing" and "happy with everything", but the surprising part, methinks, would be that he'd be also a "nostalgic" and "contemplative" type of drunk, and NOBODY expected that one. He'll wax philosophical while downing his 20th glass and musing about life, one elbow on the counter, nursing the drink in his hand, before snapping back to shooting the fucking pianist dead because the tune irritates him. It's really a ping-pong game of states and you better fucking hope he doesn't get to serve, because that curveball is hard to dodge. He also loves the feeling of being fuzzed out of his mind (fuzzed. FUZZED. Two Z, gutterbrains) and riding the wave while it lasts, but he hates having to depart from it and will prolong it as much as he can. Not that his mornings are particularly bad, unlike Velvette above, but because he likes just giving into the impulse and not having to care about pesky things like thinking and managing a business.

He'll need a bottle and a half or two to get completely tanked, and will range from impossible to reason with and be let loose, to semi-casual during his contemplative episodes. Basically, he's like a tornado : you point him in a certain direction opposite to you and when shit stops flying, you hope you're in a better shape than whoever poor schmucks were around at that time. He will 100% confuse people with things, and, as the meme goes in this fandom, try to make out with a lamppost or two, then become angry that it ain't listening to get in the car for more "fun". Hey, I had to say it, it would have been a missed opportunity otherwise.

Other Overlords

Rosie isn't against a few glasses of fine wine (it goes well with liver, as we all know), and very much knows how to keep her composure, but also lets herself get loose a bit. She's the "giggling" type, finding everything charming and funny, but again, don't be fooled, that makes her no less dangerous, just jollier and sillier. Might also say hello to every bird and dog that passes and curtsy to the local squirrel if quite inebriated, but otherwise she can tank it like a boss : expect at least two bottles down, and she'll give Husk a run for his money. Careful with the chop-chop-happy attitude, though. She could also bust out cutting sarcasm that would normally be hidden behind the sober filter, a bit like Treasure Planet's Captain Amelia.

Zestial... doesn't know what getting smashed looks like. He'll stick to his tea, thank you very much, but on the occasion, does enjoy a very fine wine. He'll be the only guy still standing after everyone else is shaking the white sheet, shrug, and go on his way. This ancient and powerful being is above the turpitude of youngsters and their funny, slurry-worded games.

Carmilla, while reasonable, would be a "tired" drunk - if she ever drank herself to this point to begin with. Everything's too loud, she can't find what's so funny about the curtains' motif or the wallpaper, and just watch, trying to blink away her daze, as others make fools of themselves. She's in no mood for fancy acrobatics but might casually pop one move or two in a complete blasé way to avoid that stumbling drunkard. The main difference is that she's slower, a wee bit sloppier, but no less graceful - it's like a different type of grace, one that's more languid, applied, tai-chi like. She might also become something of a terse talker, giving out a few words at a time, expect monosyllables and vague non-committing hums from her. If launched on a topic of interest, blurts out very technical and analytic paragraphs, only to switch back to one word every five minutes once it's done. Wouldn't be very sociable either, and avoid contact on reflex : it's just not her thing.

Next part, Heaven's side !

Again, Masterpost here.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel thoughts #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin vees #hazbin overlords #hazbin zestial #hazbin hotel carmilla #hazbin carmilla #hazbin carmilla carmine #hazbin rosie #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel zestial #carmilla carmine

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tiramegtoons · 4 months

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Weird question, but what does Snatcher think of necromancy? Raising the dead and all that. Personally I think he'd be iffy on it, as typically necromancy is a means to control the deceased (potentially reminding him of his past). (And what do *you* think of necromancy?)

Hmmm.. This is a pretty cool question. I looked more into this since the idea hadn't come to me before(Snatcher living in a haunted forest and all that) Now, apparently it doesn't always mean to raise the dead, but to also call forth spirits of the deceased for whatever reason. And Snatcher, being one himself; I don't think he would mind that. Heck, he even took the souls of the children in the village and reanimated them into their new doll-like bodies.

However, he could've used their own corpses. But the reason behind this I'm not sure. Maybe their frozen bodies would've not rendered them useful or perhaps he thought it was immoral for him to do.(i mean- ahit rated E10+ lol)

Which brings me to your theory and I like the idea that certain aspects of necromancy is just unethical, even for him. I recall seeing a particular book in the sleepy subcon time rift concerning the ethicality of consumption under capitalism(the pages are empty... lol) He is a villain, but he has standards. And being a lawyer, I bet he has run into a lot of these sort of moral principles. A bit unrelated, but it makes me think if he really did go easy on hat kid for this reason and didn't kill her off the bat.(also baby room in Vanessa's manor kinda sus)

I digress though. As for me, I think it's pretty cool to conjure a dead guys spirit to be able to just chat or vibe with them for some time. Like, imagine being able to share thoughts and knowledge from the past with someone from the 1600's or maybe way older who knows. Like Napoleon. Just tell him how the world's done him wrong because of this one comic artist. (oh man I got a whole long list of deceased people I'd like to tell them how much I appreciate their work and just how much of an impact they've made and how we could really use them in the world right now-besides snatcher of course-hehe. And who wouldn't want a lawyer like him to defend you in your time of need. :3)

#just need one soul as a down payment #this was a fun idea to look into!#necromancy #a hat in time #the snatcher ahit #the snatcher #answered asks

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

Text

Love, Napoleon!: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Rating: Mature, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x Black!OFC

Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Word Count: 2.1K

Series Summary: Love letters can only do so much, sometimes you need a grand romantic gesture. This is the love story of Napoleon “Leon” Solo and Roberta “Bobbie” Collins.

Summary: Napoleon Solo becomes smitten with Roberta Collins after she moves into his apartment building. He helps her get settled in more ways than one.

Warnings: oral sex (f receiving), emotion winning over logic, mutual pining, updated with each chapter

A/N: Napoleon has me in a chokehold right now. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics (envelope), @saradika (hearts)

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June 1967

The first time she sets eyes on Napoleon Solo, she is walking up the stairs of her apartment building holding a moving box. The narrow walkway was just the right kind of tight for him to have to grab her hips to squeeze by, apologizing and offering a sly smirk as he made it around her. She swings around to give him an earful but misjudges the weight of the box in her arms and starts to fall into him.

He nimbly catches the box in one arm as she lets go, wrapping the other arm around her waist. She is so shocked that she lingers a moment too long with her arms around his neck. She pushes off of him, fixing her dress.

“Need a little help, Miss…?”

“Roberta. Roberta Collins,” she says, reaching out for her box, “And I’ll be fine, Sir.”

“You don’t need to call me Sir. I’m Napoleon Solo, I live just upstairs. It’s no trouble to help you get settled.” He put out his hand for her to shake instead of handing the box over.

She is surprised this man even wants to talk with her, let alone shake her hand. He didn’t seem to want anything more than to help, so she reached out her hand for him to shake. But Napoleon was always a few steps ahead.

Holding her hand, he steps forward and kisses the back of her knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Roberta Collins.”

She can’t help the childish giggle that escapes her. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Solo.”

“Call me Napoleon. Or Leon, if anything.”

“I like Leon,” she grins, “Um, you can call me Bobbie if you want. My mama always hated that nickname but I always hated being called Roberta. Anyhow, I’m grown now and out on my own so I can choose what I get called.”

“Well then, Bobbie. Do you mind if I ask how old ‘grown’ is? Or is that impolite of me?”

Bobbie smirks and tilts her head at him. “It’s only impolite if a woman thinks herself to be old,” she takes the box from Napoleon’s arms, “How bout this, you tell me your age, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Ah, tit for tat then. I’ll accept your terms. I’m 35 years old.”

“Damn, you’re old. Might as well be my grandpappy, Leon.” She starts to walk back up the narrow flight of steps.

“I do believe you said you’d tell me your age, Bobbie. What about your end of the deal?”

“I do believe you said you were offering to help me move in as well, Leon. I don’t think we ever decided which of these things would happen first. Besides, all you need to know is that I’m legal. So, let’s go with taking the boxes up first, then we can discuss giving me value by putting a number next to my name, huh?” With that, she swiftly turns and continues up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the man left winded by her words.

Arriving at her apartment, she takes the box into the kitchen and sets it down on the counter. By the time she makes it back to the living room, Napoleon is walking in with two boxes under his arms. He winks at her as he passes and takes the boxes into the bedroom.

As Napoleon comes back out of the bedroom, he removes his vest. Unbuttoning his sleeves and pushing them up, he turns to Bobbie. “How can a single woman afford a fully-furnished apartment in this area? What are you, an heiress or something?”

“An heiress? That’ll be the day,” she laughs, admiring his muscular forearms, “No, my employer offered me residence after I agreed to move to the city for work.”

“Hm. Something tells me I have a few more boxes to haul up here before I learn what it is that you do. So, back to it then.”

“Back to it then,” she agrees, motioning for Napoleon to exit first, “As soon as we are done, I’ll make sure you know exactly what you need to know, Leon.”

In no time at all, the rest of the boxes are in various rooms and the essentials are unpacked and put away. Napoleon and Bobbie are sitting on the couch, their legs crossed toward each other in a gesture of interest.

She tells him of her work as an assistant to an executive in the advertising business. She talks about graduating with a Bachelor of Fine Art, originally hoping to be a curator in a museum but instead going into advertising after a stint as a copywriter. She mentions she has two older brothers back home with their own families, and her parents are retired. She also informs him that in two months, she will be turning 26.

“So, you’re a Leo. That explains the fire in your veins and the strength in your confidence. As an Aries, I’m drawn to it. I also find it interesting that you agreed to take a job in a new place, it means you don’t mind a little adventure.”

“Is that your final assessment, Leon? Adventurous and confident being my winning character traits?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On what?” she asks, tilting her head at him.

“On how you answer the next question,” he muses, smoothing his hand down his leg.

“Are you going to keep me in suspense or-”

She is cut off by Napoleon’s lips connecting with hers. The chaste kiss lasts but a few seconds but the flame between the two fire signs is ignited. As he leans away, she leans forward to chase his lips before catching herself.

“My question is,” he begins, raising his hand to wipe her bottom lip with his thumb, “Would you like me to kiss you again?”

Instead of answering, she gets up from the couch, standing in front of Napoleon as he turns to follow her movement. “Yes, I would like you to kiss me again,” she yelps as he pulls her down to sit down on his lap facing him, a leg on either side of his hips.

He smiles at her words, the heat coming off of her lower half telling him all he needs to know. He holds her chin between his thumb and first finger, pulling her closer. Slotting his mouth against hers, he drags his tongue along the seam of her plump lips. He is awarded entrance to her warm and inviting mouth to mingle their tongues. The precious moans escaping her as she undulates her hips against him are enough to make him melt but he holds on.

Until she grinds into him in earnest, that is. He can’t stop the groan that tumbles from his mouth and into hers. She swallows it and tangles her fingers into his short locs. They fight for control of the kiss, neither one yielding until they both have to part to catch their breath. Napoleon is the first to speak.

“Honesty.”

“What?” The look of confusion is painted across her features.

“The other character trait I like in a woman is honesty. And I could tell you were very honest with me just now. And I’d like to be honest with you, or at least as honest as I can be.” He pulls back, his ultramarine orbs boring into her umber ones.

“Oh, my goodness. Are you married or something?” She questions, starting to back off of him before he shakes his head and holds her in place.

“Not married to a person,” he grimaces, wiping a hand through his hair, “I’m sort of a workaholic,” he says, soft-pedaling how the CIA still has him by the balls, “I also can’t really tell you what I do, for your safety and mine. But it can be dangerous at times. And due to travel, sometimes you may not see me for days or weeks on end.”

“Why are you telling me this, Leon?”

“I’m addicted to your kiss,” he admits, his thumb finding its place on her bottom lip again, “I refuse to let anyone else know the taste of it if I have a choice in the matter.”

“And you think I’ll let you lay claim to me just like that? Gotta say I dig your confidence, Leon.”

“I have an assignment that I leave for tomorrow morning. I know we just met but I want you to wait for me.”

“Will you be able to call or write to me at least?”

“Calling may prove to be unsafe. But I don’t see why I can’t write to you. It’ll have to be addressed with a name other than mine. But you’ll know it’s me, I promise.”

“I assume you also can’t tell me where you’re going?”

“No, I can’t, Sweetness. But I promise I’ll write when I get settled and I will be as safe as I can be. I’ll have my team with me.”

“Any chicks on your team?” She inquires, trying to hide her jealousy.

“Yeah, Gabby. But don’t worry, she and Ilya are an item and they’ve got my back. I would say there is no need to worry, but I can’t. I tend to be impulsive, as you can tell.”

“I guess I could hold space for you until you return. You better not be trying to give me the slip. I can be a little impulsive as well, you know? What happens if some other fella wants a shot at me and I’m all lonely missing you, huh?” she wonders aloud, crossing her arms across her chest.

“I can’t promise you won’t be lonely without me, but I can promise I can make waiting worth your while when I come back. If you’ll indulge me, that is.” Napoleon finishes, running the tips of his fingers up her thigh before stopping along the seam of her underwear.

“You think I’m going to sleep with you that easy, Leon? That might work on some other little chicken, but I ain’t giving it up that easy, Daddy.”

“I don’t expect you to sleep with me, and I wouldn’t force that on you either. No, what I’m offering is to simply get you off with my hands and mouth. No more, no less. Whaddaya say, Sweetness? Are you going to be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?” He lets one finger run over the gusset of her panties before she can even register that her body is saying ‘yes’.

Her eyes are closing despite her urge to keep control. When they open, her pupils are blown wide. Fisting a hand through his hair, she pulls him forward and all but devours his lips in a punishing kiss. She pulls back and leans her forehead against his.

“Take me to my bedroom, Leon, and I’ll permit you to get me off,” she sighs, giving in to her desires, “And maybe, when you come back to me, I’ll repay the favor.”

He groans, grabbing her hips and standing up to let her wrap her legs around him. He carries her to her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him. In short order, Napoleon has her crying out his name, begging him to take her to the moon and back again and again. When she begs him to take it further, he denies her. She pouts, whining that he has done this on purpose. He doesn’t deny it but doesn’t give in either.

After making out with her pussy for another hour, she begins to fall asleep and beckons him to cuddle with her. He debates staying with her a bit longer as she sleeps but decides he needs to leave before he refuses to go on his mission. That wouldn’t work out for anyone positively. He listens as her soft snores even out, moving her to lie on her pillow instead of his chest. He waits until she settles again before rising from the bed.

Finding a pen and a piece of paper, he writes a note to her and places it on her nightstand before leaving her to sleep off her post-orgasm haze. Despite his wish to have stayed up with her into the night, he is glad to have at least ignited in her a yearning to see him again. At least, that is what he hopes to have inspired. For now, he’ll just have to covet her from afar.

Bobbie,

I’m sorry I had to leave while you were sleeping. It seems my work was to your pleasure. And don’t worry, I enjoy it when I have such a vocal and passionate partner as yourself to work with.

As soon as I get settled, I’ll send you a little something to keep you company while I’m away. But for now, keep this note close by. Think of me, as I’ll be thinking of you.

P.S. I already miss you.

Love,

Napoleon!

Chapter 2

**Tag List**

@brattymum96 @ambinxe @avengersfan25 @kebabgirl67

@astheskycries @enchantedbytomandhenry

Let me know if you wanna be added and for what plz 😁

[General Fanfiction (Everything), Henry Fanfiction, August Walker, Bright Like The Moon]

#henry cavill #henry cavill characters #napoleon solo #napoleon solo x reader #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #napoleon solo fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo fanfiction #the man from uncle fanfic #the man from uncle fanfiction #napoleon solo fic #the man from uncle #love napoleon #ellethespaceunicorn made a playlist

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yanderepuck · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 30

WELCOME BACK SLUTS. It's that time of the year you've been looking forward to. As always, Kinktober is hosted by your local Napoleon simp @xxsycamore

If you would like to read Kinktober 2021 and 2022 they are here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought about it

Day 30 - Dirty Talk/Voice Kink | Come Fetish/Creampie

He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder, lightly humming. You were just putting a kettle on the stove for water to boil for some tea.

"Aw. I was hoping to surprise you while you were working."

"I can still act surprised," Will laughs softly.

You turn around to face him and give him a kiss. "How is the writing going? You've been working hard the last few days."

"I have found some inspiration. I do not like to put my own down before I've written it all," he kisses you back and lifts you up

"Will!" He laughs as he starts to carry you out of the kitchen, taking you to the living room to sit on the couch, placing you in his lap.

"I'm sorry my dear for not giving you proper attention," he puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses you again. "I promise I shall make it up to you."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" You get comfortable and hold his hands.

"You'll find out tonight," he smirks and goes to kiss you again.

You avoided his kiss. It sounds like he already has a plan and you want to hear it. "Why don't you tell me about tonight," you smirk back. Something about hearing his soft voice explaining what the wants to do to you excites you. He doesn't do it much so you take it where you can get it.

He pouts slightly when he can't kiss you. "Tonight I want to try something different," he lifts your hand to kiss the back of it. "I crave your body," his other hand lets yours go and rests on your thigh, squeezing it.

"I want to touch every inch of you. Inside and out," he hums and stays to play with a piece of your hair. "I cannot stop thinking about bending you over my writing desk."

With each sentence your face gets redder. Anyone else would think the way that he talks is strange, but you find it so very attractive.

"If you are still able to walk when I am done with you then I did not do a good enough job," he gets closer and kisses your neck. "If you are not covered in my mark then there is no way I could let you go out."

You briefly felt the tips of his fangs drag across your skin.

"Will.." you softly moan his name.

"My love, do you know what is a lovely sight to see? You laying in bed, eyes covered, hands bound-"

"Th-that's enough!" You started to get embarrassed. His grip on your thigh lightens and he blinks at you before his lips curling into a smile.

"I thought you wanted to hear what I wanted to do with you tonight."

If that's not everything, then what else could he be planning.

"Do not tell me that I have you worked up already," his hand began to slide up your skirt. "How wet have I gotten you just by speaking," he smirks and presses a finger against your wet underwear.

Still embarrassed, but you can't take yourself off of his lap.

"My my. You are quite wet," his finger immediately pushed the fabric away and pushed its way inside you.

On instinct you moan and rock your hips. He squeezes your thigh again and curls his finger inside of you.

His finger moves slowly. For you it's almost painfully slow. You need more.

The kettle starts to go off, indicating that the water is ready.

"Would you look at that," he pulls his finger out of you, and wipes whatever juices are on his finger on the inner part of your thigh. "Looks like we will have to continue this tonight after all," he smirks and kisses you again.

He lifts you as he stands and sets you on your feet. "I will be in my study for when it is done brewing."

He turns and leaves the living room as if none of that just happened, while you are standing there, gripping your skirt with a flushed face. You don't think you can wait until tonight after getting a sneak peak

#ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp shakespeare #kinktober

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cloudcountry · 10 months

Note

“Tell me why I feel like we’re in the middle of making an Ikevamp OC-“

We shall make Beethoven real 🧍 /J

But yes, I would also pay to see Beethoven fist-fight Mozart, and Napoleon for that matter 😩

And yeah, Beethoven had a lot of respect for Mozart and looked up to him!! He even made variations of Mozart’s works. But again,, I want to see the grumpy German men fight-

I can just imagine Beethoven swearing out Napoleon/Mozart in German as he goes for the left hook- /hj As someone who lives in Germany, the language itself is nice enough (I could go on a whole language rant, but that might be for another day-) but,, people speak the language so aggressively?? Like a normal conversation in the German language sounds like an argument just from the tone-

Oh, but back to Mozart and Beethoven real quick- I found a short article about the two of them meeting which I found interesting- Here’s a small extract of it if you want to read it! (As your history teacher, I am giving you sources- /j)

“In 1787, when Beethoven was 17 years of age he left Bonn on six months' leave of absence from the court orchestra, and arrived in Vienna a month later. Armed with a letter of introduction from Max Franz, whom Mozart knew, he gained entry into Mozart's home and was ushered into the music room to meet his great idol.

Mozart was in no mood to receive him. His health was plaguing him – his untimely death at the age of 35 was less than five years away – and he did not relish having to stop work to listen to a child prodigy from somewhere hundreds of miles away.

‘Play something,’ he told Beethoven. Beethoven played the opening of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 24 in C minor. ‘Not that,’ said Mozart. ‘Anybody can play that. Play something of your own.’ So Beethoven did.

When the young man had finished, Mozart walked into the adjoining room where his wife Constanze was entertaining friends.

‘Stanzi, Stanzi,’ he said, pointing back into the music room, ‘Watch out for that boy. One day he will give the world something to talk about.’”

(Here’s the link to the article if you’re interested!! https://www.classicfm.com/composers/beethoven/guides/beethoven-and-mozart/

Jackdaw Anon 🐦

OMG BEETHOVEN IKEVAMP OC IS BECOMING REAL?!?!?!? WE ARE BRINGING DOOM UPON THSI WORLD AND I AM HERE FOR IT!!!!!

but omg.,,.., you're telling me both sebastian and beethoven would be in awe of mozart. like theyd be fanboying over him!?!?!?

I FORGOT TO MENTION THIS ACTUALLY BUT I THUOGHT IT WAS FUNNY THAT YOU SAID I KNOW IKEVAMP'S MOZARTS BETTER THAN YOU BC THE ONLY THINGS I KNOW ARE THAT HE DISLIKES COOKIES BC THEYRE DRY, HE LIKES MEAT DISHES, AND HIS WEAKNESSES ARE DRAWING & PAINTING HELP

‘Not that,’ said Mozart. ‘Anybody can play that. Play something of your own.’ So Beethoven did.

AN ABSOLUTE SLAY!!!!!!!!!!!! yk thats kind of how creation works...you look up to popular people an dthink "oh i have to do what they do to get recognition" but in actuality your more authentic self will garner FAR more positive attention :C damn thats crazy HAGSFDHASG

#jackdaw anon <3 #IM SO HERE FOR THE LECTURES HASFD

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josefavomjaaga · 6 months

Note

Hey there! Sorry to just drop this on you like that, but I though you might know something about this.

As far as I can tell Soult was basically banished from France for some time after 1815 and lived in Prussian exile thanks to his wife Louise who was from the Rhineland. I'd be very surprised if the Prussian government was really all that chill about letting one of Napoleon's top marshals, who had still been fighting for him as late as the hundred days campaign and who also didn't really make himself all that popular during the forth coalition, just live in their country. So my question would be do you know something about the Soults lives at that time? What did they think about their situation? Did they face some kind of restrictions or repressions?

Oh, thank you for the question! That's a good one! 💖 I think I've talked about Soult in exile at some points but as far as I'm aware I've never tried to give a summary of this period of his life. As to sources, I'll mostly refer to Nicole Gotteri once again, because what else.

Soult was already condemned to be exiled in an ordonnance royale from 24 July 1815, immediately after Louis XVIII had returned to Paris. While Ney's name topped the list of those condemned to death, Soult's was at the top of those to be driven out of France. However, execution of this decree was postponed, and after Soult had (barely) managed to get back to his mother in distant Saint-Amans, he was allowed to stay there (under strict surveillance, of course) some months longer. He spent the time working on a memorandum for his defense and to worry about the future: while public rumours abounded about how many millions he supposedly owned, the family had real problems to pay the 16,500 francs due as extra taxes for the contributions to the allies.

However, the loi d'amnistie from 12 January 1816 confirmed Soult's exile. He left Saint-Amans on 28 January and reached Maubeuge at the border of France on 6 February. Louise and the children, accompanied by Soult's younger brother Jean-François, followed mid-February. The family reunited at Barmen, where Louise's mother Wilhelmine now lived with the family of one of Louise's sisters, on 19 February 1816.

That was the beginning of an exile of three years. After a brief stay at Barmen, the family rented (on 21 April 1816) a house in Düsseldorf in Alleestraße (today: Heinrich-Heine-Allee) No. 7, close to the Ratingen gate and, more importantly, to the local gymnasium for Napoléon Hector. According to contemporary newspaper articles, it was an appartment of seven rooms (which is comfortable for a family of soon-to-be five, but rather modest for a duke), and the family did not even have a carriage of their own. They lived a rather secluded life, according to all sources. It was here where Louise, at the age of 46, gave birth to a daughter on 27 January 1817, whose death a couple of months later devastated the family. By that time, the two older children had already returned to France, in order to complete their education.

In February 1818, Louise also left for Paris, in order to look after the children, and Soult stayed behind, alone. As the house in Düsseldorf was far too big for him, he moved back in with his mother-in-law Wilhelmine. Louise and the children joined him in July 1818 for a prolonged summer vacation that they spent at a rented little chateau and that saved Soult from his growing depression. But it took another long winter that he had to spend alone, until May 1819, before Louis XVIII allowed Soult to return to France. Among other people, Soult's former aide Saint-Chamans (despite being at odds with Soult, as usual) had interfered on Soult's behalf and pleaded his case.

So, that's the timeline. Now to your actual question, how was Soult treated. For context: Louise Soult's family lived in what had been the Grand-Duchy of Berg-Kleve (and had belonged to one Joachim Murat), a region now governed by the King of Prussia. And it may have been quite fortunate for Soult that most people in these regions did not like their new Prussian overlords much 😁.

As mentioned above, Soult had already been under surveillence by French secret police while he waited for the final decision in his case. Once he had crossed the border, Prussian police took over. The director of police for the region, some guy named Schnabel, dispatched a police inspector to observe Soult and report about his comings and goings literally from day one. According to these reports, Soult arrived in Barmen accompanied by his 14-year-old son in a heavily laden carriage pulled by four horses. He entered the house of his relatives - and was then not be seen again for several days. Some young people rioted loudly in from on Wilhelmine Berg's house, without police interfering. And of course, there were the usual rumours about Soult having brought a wealth of 27 millions with him.

Those malicious rumours seem to have been all that the inspector hanging out on the street in front of Wilhelmine's house was able to report. Inside, Soult had asked the mayor of Barmen to come to visit, informed him officially that he would stay for a bit with his German family, and asked for a teacher in Greek and Latin for Napoléon Hector.

Just because we've been kicked out France does not mean that you can skip homework, young man.

He also had the Prussian notary in Barmen, a Monsieur Leopold Alhaus, draft a document that would allow Soult's brother to manage his French possessions in his absence.

A week after Soult's arrival, by the end of February, Prussian police decided to tighten the reins, just so that this Frenchman would not get too comfortable. Police director Schnabel informed Soult that he needed permission by the Prussian government if he wanted to take up residence in the Rhine region, and gave him four weeks to obtain it. Soult answered on 2 March that he had not decided yet about where he wanted to go and that so far, he was only visiting. On 11 March, Schnabel triumphantly announced that the King of Prussia had just decreed that, while he allowed the French exiles to stay in his domains, he would only tolerate them staying in Pommerania and Magdeburg.

So, pack up, ex-duke!

However, before following her husband, Louise Soult had already talked about the possibility of staying in her home region with Prussian ambassador Golz in Paris. Golz in turn had written to prince Hardenberg in Berlin about it. So did Soult now himself from Barmen, as soon as this overzealous police director started to harrass him. Among other things, he wondered if it might be possible for him to stay in Düsseldorf, because his son could go to school there. (Obviously still a major point for Soult.)

And guess what? On 24 March (almost miraculously fast for Prussian bureaucracy), Hardenberg sent the official permission for Soult and his family to stay in the duchy of Berg as long as he wished. For Soult, the King of Prussia had explicitly made an exception to the rule that applied to the other exiles.

Which put an immediate stop to director Schnabel and his ilk. I mean, you don't want to get on the worng side of the government. Who would have thought that this Frenchman had friends in Berlin?

I do not know why high-ranking Prussians showed themselves so lenient towards Soult in this case. To some degree, this was likely a concession to Louise. But it also may have had something to do with the fact that Soult had governed a Prussian province for so long and had been tasked with the details of several difficult negotiations. While contemporary reports from that period often badmouth him, and while Prussian historiography from the 1860s and 1870s can be really vicious towards Soult, Prussian books from the 1890s and later seem to treat him with much more benevolence, explaining that Soult in all these negotiations had tried to be as generous as Napoleon allowed him to be, and always fair. I suppose his contemporaries, especially the Prussian government at the time, were quite aware of this (even if they never would have admitted it out loud). This may have been their way to thank him.

Of course both Prussian and French police kept a watchful eye of Soult all the while (even when he was allowed back his entry into France was immediately reported to Paris). But armed with the permission of the King, he could at least avoid all real harassment.

As to the locals in Düsseldorf, they seem to have liked Soult well enough. While Soult did not go out much he must have had some contacts in town and occasionally invited people to dinner who, as a French police report stated, did not talk about anything but trade and agriculture. Soult himself, as to him, apparently loved to tend to the garden. But I have seen a mention of him being member of a club in Düsseldorf, and I have come across the report of a book seller who visited him. So he had not completely disappeared from view.

I hope this answers your question somewhat. There are some more details about Soult's life in Düsseldorf (local newspapers occasionally mention his name, Napoléon Hector successfully graduated from Düsseldorf's gymnasium and even had the honour to hold the graduation adress in Latin etc.) But this has already gotten quite long.

Thank you once more for the Ask!

#napoleon's marshals #jean de dieu soult #duchy of berg 1816 #barmen 1816

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 10 months

Text

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 5

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.1K

Masterlist

June 2004

I don’t wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don’t wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

Been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night

Now I see Daylight, I only see Daylight

-Daylight, Taylor Swift

“I heard this movie was stupid.” I gasp at his comment, hand clasped dramatically over my heart.

“Don’t you dare insult Napoleon Dynamite!” He rolls his eyes with a muffled snort at my antics. “This movie is hilarious.” Perching myself upon my couch in a pair of comfy sleep shorts and a loose-fitting tee shirt, I grab the remote and point it at the TV before hitting play. I spare a quick glance at the man who has practically become my best friend these past few months. With his black sweats and gray hoodie, he looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him since that night in the bar. Even with the movie playing, it’s hard not to notice little things about him, even now. “What does the R.P.D. on your sweatshirt stand for?” The question takes him off guard, looking at me, and for a split second, it looks like he’s not even in the same room as me anymore, although he shakes himself out of it fairly quickly. It’s almost impossible to miss the glazed-over look in those eyes.

“Um, well,” he pauses, looking for the right words.

“You don’t have to tell me. I didn’t mean to pry.” I rest my hand on his covered forearm gently, and he looks as if I’ve shocked him, snapping his gaze onto me.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sure you heard about the whole ordeal that happened in Raccoon City a number of years ago?” I nod, not quite sure where he’s going with this. “I was there.” No fucking way. Sure as hell explains the haunted look in his eyes.

“I thought they sterilized the whole city after the outbreak?”

“They did. I managed to get out before that, along with Claire. I said I used to be a cop. I was a cop in Raccoon City.” For a moment, I’m silent, processing this new information. RPD. Raccoon City Police Department. Everyone heard about Raccoon City. The zombies that ran rampant after Umbrella accidentally let a virus loose in their lab. All the lives that were taken. Then, the government dropped bombs on it, completely wiping out everything inside, dead and living included. Unsure of what I can even say at this point, I take to just giving his arm a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m glad you made it out.” It’s all I can think to say, no apology is going to mean a thing at this point. He rests his hand on top of mine, almost like he’s trying to ground me with a touch. I always find myself surprised by how hot he runs, his touch warm and comforting, like some kind of security blanket. He takes a deep breath, eyes scanning around the room before changing the subject without further signaling from me.

“Your apartment’s nice. Homey,” he says, sinking further down into the plush of the couch.

“Thanks?” I accept the compliment hesitantly, a smile growing on my face anyways.

“Yeah. It’s better than my place. I have one dead plant in the corner by the door, but besides that, it’s pretty much just furniture,” he explains, grinning at the photo of my sister Natalie and I hugging and smiling, her petite frame dolled up in her wedding dress, my own body wrapped in light blue chiffon. Her maid of honor. “Who’s that?”

“That would be my annoyingly charming little sister on her wedding day.” The memory flashes in front of my eyes, the image of her teary smile as she said ‘I do’ to her husband, James. The giggles as we danced together. The tears we shed as James stood up and talked about how honored he was to be able to be standing up there, marrying the woman his best friend, our brother, had introduced him to before he died.

“You look happy,” he observes, looking at me for confirmation.

“I was. That was 2 years ago. Natalie’s pregnant now, due in 3 months.”

“Well, tell her I said congrats,” he says, arms crossing over his chest, a small smile on his features as he turns his attention back to the screen. We are both silent for a minute, but due to the earlier conversation, he’s not quite able to follow the plot for a minute, trying to piece together information that he missed.

“You said you don’t have any decorations in your apartment?” I find myself asking in favor of the movie. Leon snickers, eyes looking back at me.

“You know, you’re the one who wanted to watch this movie,” he teases, holding no ill will in his words though. “But no. I’m rarely there. Thinking of actually moving somewhere cheaper since I’m only there for maybe a week or two at a time before I get shipped off for God knows how long.” He seems frustrated at this, his job, the hours. The loneliness.

“Have you thought about getting a roommate?” I suggest, rotating my body so my feet are resting on the couch, knees brought up to my chest, facing him. Maybe having someone to share the rent would make his financial load a bit lighter, but I’m quickly shut down.

“I tried that. I haven’t been able to find anyone who is willing to put up with my chaotic schedule. Half the time, I don’t know when I’m coming and going. That tends to frustrate a lot of roommates.” He sounds exhausted.

“Sounds lonely.”

“Well, I’m content in my loneliness.” He smirks, parroting my own words back at me. I slap a hand across his arm gently.

“Seriously though, I didn’t think a roommate's schedule mattered most of the time, as long as they aren’t obnoxious when the other sleeps,” I admit, chin resting on top of my knees.

“Well apparently, it does, in fact, matter. Which sucks. I would need to find someone who could put up with not knowing when I’ll be here and when I won’t.” He glares at the ceiling as if it’s personally offended him, furrowed brows and lips curled downward. Don’t. Don’t fucking say it. Don’t.

“I could.” Had to open my fucking mouth. Leon’s eyes immediately snap to me, his frown replaced with a surprised expression.

“What?” He asks, almost in disbelief.

“I have an extra room. And I don’t mind the chaotic schedule,” I mumble, suddenly very embarrassed by my outburst. “Plus, I could keep your plant alive.” He finally cracks a smile as he laughs.

“You’re serious?”

“I mean, you’ll have to help with rent. And groceries when you’re here, but, yeah. If you want, the spare’s yours.” My heart races in my chest as if him saying no to this would be like him grabbing my heart out of my chest and tearing it in two, which I have no doubt he could do. Easily.

“Yeah. My lease expires in like 2 weeks.”

“I could help you move your stuff sometime this week.”

“Thanks. For everything.”

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut

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xxsycamore · 8 months

Text

LATE AUGUST NIGHT TRYST

↬ You have a one-night stand with Napoleon.

Napoleon Bonaparte x gender neutral!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: One Night Stands; Lap Sex; Alcohol; Smoking; Making Out; Kissing; Neck Kissing • wordcount: 2,580 • masterlist

a/n: Almost didn't finish this on time to say farewell to August... this fic lived in my head for about a year, and finally here it is. Something a little bit different from my usual Napoleon stories. The lyrics are from Four Out of Five by Arctic Monkeys. Part of Late Summer Rendezvous, prompt 15: FREE DAY - Summer Fling

With nightlife being at its height in summer, it's way less common now for the mansion's parlor to be full of residents. With fun following the ones that follow it back, the absence of people like Arthur, Dazai, Comte, Leonardo and even Theo, makes it so that the introverts of the mansion have little reason to assemble and would much prefer to stay in their rooms instead.

There’s a certain warmth about late summer nights that tends to bring people together.

Perhaps the bars and the fancy soirees have gotten old. Tonight was yet another late August night that saw the mansion’s parlor brimming with liveliness.

Take it easy for a little while

Come and stay with us

The electric fan was aiding air circulating cigarette smoke once again, its low buzz accompanied by someone’s annoyed remark to take their smoke to the balcony. The shuffling of cards; the audible clack of poll balls sent rolling in all kinds of directions on the table. An abrupt cut-in in someone’s story when another feels the need to make an eminent correction.

That was it, until the small hours of the night rolled in, the last of sips in the glasses drowned with a promise to tell the rest of that story tomorrow. Some head towards their room with a stagger, or in Sebastian's case, can't walk by themselves at all.

Having promised to take care of tidying up the parlor for him, you move from one sitting area to other, swaying with the gramophone's melody soundtracking your cleaning chore. From the corner of your vision, you see Napoleon standing at the doorway, strangely hesitating to enter. He shakes it off quickly, joining your side casually and taking the heavy tray of empty glasses from your hands.

"I took Sebas to his room. He's already sound asleep. Poor man, wouldn't want to be him tomorrow…"

You mutter a thank-you before giggling at his comment, feeling that something is necessary to be added. "Oh, but we finally got him to loosen up! I think he had fun."

"Yeah." Napoleon snickers, but it morphs into a genuine smile. "Yeah, who knew he was so good at darts. It's better when he's not giving me the victory all the time."

The giddy feeling remains inside you, and even though the fun part of the night is over, you discover something pleasant in being here to enjoy the aftermath with Napoleon of all people. He makes an excellent company, even without the help he provides which is already plenty. Conversations with him are easy and light; he always manages to make you laugh effortlessly. His place in those gatherings is interesting as he somehow manages to stay at the center of attention despite the palette of colorful personalities surrounding him. He doesn't get on anyone's nerves too, which is an achievement with people like Mozart and Theo around. He makes sure the quiet ones are included in both the pastimes and the conversations.

With your more modern look at things, you notice how well he blends; almost as if he's an introvert with the introverts and an extrovert with the extroverts.

"Did I eat your dessert by mistake? You're staring a hole through me, Nunuche."

Nunuche? Where did that come from? You can remember him calling you that maybe once or twice, but it was deserved back then. You think.

"Oh, was I? Sorry, I was just thinking about something. It's good to have you around, Napoleon. I mean, you're like everyone's big brother."

Okay, that was pretty far from your point of downplaying your actual thoughts. Hey, that floor is so interesting to look at.

Passing the playing cards from one hand to the other in order to flip them in the right position before putting them away in a deck, Napoleon pauses to look at you.

"Thank you. That's nice to hear."

The low, rhythmic shuffle resumes and you pray that it mutes your heavy exhale as you realize you were holding in your breath. You finish up arranging the poll table, looking around for other tasks you missed before it's time to thank Napoleon for his help, and finish up sweeping the floor by yourself.

"I'll stay until the piece is over. I really like that melody. If you don't mind, I mean."

You watch him lean over the gramophone, reading the names of the other records as he puts them one by one back in the case. Nodding, you join by his side, the soft tone needle requiring you to get closer for a better listen. You like it.

Only time that we stop laughing

Is to breathe, or steal a kiss

Napoleon is still leaning in, propped on the small table with one hand. His mouth aligns with your level perfectly. You're looking directly at him, and he is looking back.

Out of nowhere, he asks.

"Have you had alcohol tonight?"

You blink, shaking your head. The seeping realization of why he asks gets to you and you hastily ask him in turn, "Have you?"

He lets out a tiny laugh. Maybe he's noticed you staring the whole night, and suspects that you would already know the answer. "No."

Before you know it, you're pressing your lips against his.

It's all new and exciting. The thoughts rushing in in your mind as to what comes next are exciting, but so is the sensation ruling over them right now. The man kissing you is just as curious to explore as you are, not letting this end as some innocent peck of lips against lips.

You like the form of his lips; their softness, the way they open so his tongue can invade your mouth. You let him explore more for you, you let him in.

Frankly, you didn't expect him to be much of a good kisser. It reminds you of how you were surprised by his cooking skills, then by his fencing skills; his equestrianism, his knowledge about ancient history, his dexterousness. You've surely made a fool of yourself for expecting anything less than a mind-blowing frenchkissing of His former Majesty, but sometimes losing tastes better.

A large pair of hands find your waist, even if you haven't shared that you're getting lightheaded and in need of a strong man's support. You let out a small noise that sounds dangerously akin to a moan, and Napoleon breaks the kiss.

He looks like he's trying his best not to smirk; something remarkable about his eyes - it could be the lighting, but they seem darker somehow.

"Now, what…?" You find yourself whispering, the question meant for both parties.

Napoleon maintains eye contact.

"Do you feel like you want to kiss me again?"

You grip the edge of the decorative table hard, hoping to take out the intensity of your emotion on it and not on Napoleon when that same hand falls on him next.

"Yes. Please."

It's Napoleon who takes the initiative this time, and it feels different from when you did it. Better.

This is absolutely not how this melody is meant to be danced, but Napoleon makes your body move along with his, walking you backward until he reaches a lone chair that has been pulled out of the table area for someone's convenience.

He sits down, taking you with him so you're comfortably seated on his lap straddling him, and thus facing him. No, there isn't really a need for any plan, you don't know why you asked. It all comes naturally when he keeps on kissing you, fingers carding through your hair to tilt your face to his liking. It's like he doesn't want to get too dominant, because for each movement he conducts, he leaves enough space for you to make your counter-attack. And you do, to your best extent, finding out that your hands want to move even more than your tongue does. You study the shape of his shoulders, firm and hard, gripping them for support as Napoleon's own hands begin to move up and down on your sides. It's nothing more than caressing, yet you wish he was bouncing you on his cock right now instead.

Making out with Napoleon wasn't in your plans for tonight; you'll be ashamed come morning when you're laying the table for him and ten others, having to pretend nothing has happened. You wonder if his demeanor would give off any signs of what happened the previous night.

Strangely, the thought of this turns you on, too. Everything does, right now; it's like the man currently kissing your neck radiates lust, infecting you with it and you'll go crazy.

While stealing his breath for yourself once again and finally losing count of how many times you did so, your body moves on its own impatiently, hips rolling against the prominent tent in his trousers.

Napoleon produces a low, dangerous noise of arousal. He looks surprised when you reach to undo his belt, but his light caressing of your spread thighs tells you it's the good kind of surprised.

"My room is further down the corridor, you know."

You bite down on your bottom lip. "I know. I go there every day."

Napoleon helps your slightly shaking fingers with the task, shooting you a dirty look but choosing not to say anything.

His expression shifts to serious once again, something so much like him, you pick the pattern. He's concentrated even when led by impulses, careful with what he does even in this spontaneous romp you two got caught into.

By the time his hand arrives at your own burning arousal, the gramophone melody had died down to complete silence, making it easier for you to hear Napoleon's groan as you stroke his length in turn as his hand keeps on caressing you. You're kissing him again; you can go on forever at this rate, not caring about the possibility of this ending short because you can't get your hands off each other. But he's more controlled than you are. If he wants to do more, he will.

"Do you want me to put it in?"

Somehow the question still catches you off-guard, you’re never going to be able to look him in the eye and be completely honest about everything you wish he could do to you. It's a good thing that he asks.

"Please."

The breathy laugh tickles your neck as he grabs your ass and brings you even closer to him, the nakedness of your front rubbing against his freed erection. It stands flush against your belly, intimidating you just a little with its size when you imagine it disappearing from sight in just another second.

"You don't have to beg."

Napoleon's quick work on your hole has done wonders to leave you clenching with anticipation and readiness, your hands finding the firm hardwood backrest that would make a good lavage. You aid Napoleon by arching your back, and your entrance aligns perfectly with his arousal. You both look down to watch the moment your lusting for each other finally gets resolved, and it somehow doesn't seem like it belongs to two individuals who've dreamed of getting into each other's pants only just from the beginning of the night onwards.

Napoleon pushes his hip up just as you sink down, and you meet in a euphoric first thrust. Closing your eyes, you feel that you've tightened up so much that you can sense every little detail about his impressive length, sucking him in deeper because you already want more. Napoleon groans and his brows have a slight arch to them when you open your eyes again.

"So tight… We need you to relax…"

Hearing that he's able to feel you just as much as you feel him, the wave of wanton makes you involuntarily squeeze him again. Napoleon grasps your chin and starts kissing you yet again. His tongue domineers over yours, invading your mouth just as he invaded your insides, but as he keeps a firm hold of your hips to hold you still, your attention is successfully moved to the kiss. It's hard not to feel the hot pulse of his cock and to react to it with your body, but you soon melt into Napoleon's persistent kissing. It's soothing somehow, preparing you for what comes next.

It's Napoleon who realizes you're ready first. He pushes you upwards and you don't even realize how naturally you sink your weight back down on him to chase after the high.

"There we go."

He's patient and excellent at guiding, hormones making your head spin with dozens of thoughts running at once inside it, all centered around the man fucking deeper into you from below. Settling into a good pace, you work together with him to meet this merciless need that saw you pounce on each other like animals, forgoing the steps of arranging all of this and instead giving yourselves into the moment. No, it's better that way. You like this raw, wild side of him - and perhaps, he likes yours as well.

"Merde. You feel…too good."

His whispered words almost make the knot in your belly snap, the alluring baritone colored by lust at fault for it. Wanting to give him more of yourself, you don't hold back. Bouncing up and down on him, you fight through moans to give him a warning.

"You…You feel good too… I'm gonna-!"

Hugging you tight against his chest, Napoleon straightens his back in the chair, making your hands fall from the backrest. You take it as a sign to cling onto him instead, trusting him with finishing this off for both of you in the best way.

Now having full control of how he penetrates you, he moves you up and down on his cock. Your legs dangle off his strong arms and you hate that you can't follow the erotic expressions he's making as he plows in you, because your eyes are rolling back in pleasure. Then you squeeze them shut when it hits you; strongly.

"Say my name."

Letting out a muted scream as your climax washes over you, you unintentionally test the strength of Napoleon's arms as your legs instinctively begin to close up.

"Napoleon---Ahhh!!"

He fucks you so good through it, intent on bringing out every last drop of pleasure he can get from you; even over your own quiet babbling you unmistakably hear him curse again.

Napoleon makes sure you've ridden your high to full extent before he pushes your body up again, forcing you off his cock. Warm ropes land on your naked skin, making you shiver, as Napoleon grunts and lets his own pleasure consume him.

You're sticky with the aftermath of the desire you shared with Napoleon, and that feels incredibly hot to you. He's catching his breath just as you are, and you hold his gaze while he further messes up his hair by raking his fingers through it.

"This is going to become a habit."

It's a little too late to feel embarrassed, but your cheeks are suddenly warm. Maybe because he's right.

You didn't notice for the switched-on lights, but looking at the window, it seems that the morning has almost arrived. The faint blue light of the quiet outside world is strangely beautiful, and the afterglow of the sex you had with Napoleon heightens the feeling rushing inside you. Soon you'll have to exit the scene.

"Hey, let's put on that record one more time."

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