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#I’m like hesitant to tag the seven taglist?
whump-queen · 2 years
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oh look it’s sad anime boy hours again
WIP of my oc Seven
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Snow Day
Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Princess!Reader
Hello everyone and Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and Blessed Yule to all of you <3 Just as promised, here is the little fluffy Brienne Fic. I hope you guys enjoy it.
Additionally, I now have a Taglist so make sure to fill out the form so I know who to tag where <3
Big thanks to @weemssapphic and some of my other friends for beta reading my story <3
Disclaimer: English is not my first language!
Warnings: None. Just fluff and cutie patootie Brienne <3
Authors Note: Y/N has been left alone in the castle, as her parents went to another kingdom for an assize. Alone? No. They left Ser Brienne of Tarth to look after their daughter. The best Knight in all of the seven kingdoms surely would be able to protect their child if something were to happen. Little do they know that their daughter and Brienne might enjoy their time alone a bit more than anticipated.
Words: 2'400+
Ao3 Link
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“This is so boring”, you groaned as you slumped onto the cushions that laid in front of the big window in your chambers, looking outside and watching the snowflakes dance their way to the ground. 
Your parents, the King and the Queen, have been gone for a week now, and they won’t return for another. Being alone in a big castle with nothing to do except for reading and simply… existing… wasn’t too thrilling for you. There was, however, a little light at the end of the tunnel. Your parents decided that you shouldn’t be alone whilst they were gone, and therefore left you under the watchful eyes of Brienne of Tarth. 
THE Brienne of Tarth. The strongest knight in all the seven kingdoms and your secret crush. Yes, it's true. You’ve admired her for a long time, and being alone with her was the cherry on top of the cake. One week alone with her and one week still to come, and she still kept a respectful distance, no matter how many times you tried chatting her up. On some occasions, even tripped on purpose so that she would have to catch you, only for her to set you on your feet and immediately take a step back. You loved how respectful and careful she was with you, but you just wanted to be able to cuddle up to her and run your fingers through that short, blonde and so soft-looking hair. You let out a frustrated sigh and leaned your head on the windowsill. 
“I’m sorry you feel that way, my Lady. Perhaps we could go into the library to read?” Brienne offered, pulling you from your thoughts. You jumped slightly and turned to look at her. Since when has she been standing at the entrance to your room? She stood there in her royal Knights tunic, a belt fastened around her waist. You couldn’t get enough of the sight, staring at her without noticing as your cheeks flushed a light pink hue. 
“My Lady?” the blonde tried again, ripping you from your thoughts once more. You let out a sigh. 
“I don’t know… I don’t really feel like reading” You turned your head to the window again, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with your very obvious staring. Watching the snowflakes get less and less, you suddenly had an idea, sitting up quickly, which made Brienne jump a bit at the abruptness of your movement. 
“Let’s go outside!” you suggested, turning your face to look at Brienne again with a wide smile. “Just for a walk!” 
“I don’t know, my Lady…” Brienne was clearly hesitant and whilst you didn’t want to push her, you still wanted to do something else than just read and lounge around. You decided to give her your best puppy eyes. 
“Please? Oh, please Ser!” You flutter your eyelashes and look at her with a pleading expression. The Knight thought for a second, then sighed and nodded. 
“Alright.” She said, and you sprang up in excitement. You walked to your closet, pulled out your winter coat and furs and set them on your bed. Looking up, you saw Brienne still standing there. Was she waiting for you? 
“I can meet you down in the hall so you can get ready too.” You offered, and she waited for a second, thinking and then nodding. 
“I will be awaiting you in the Great Hall, my Lady.” She replied before leaving your room to get ready herself. You quickly threw on your coat and wrapped the furs around your shoulders, attaching them with straps so they wouldn’t fall. You put on your thick winter shoewear, grabbed your gloves and after a last look into the mirror you left your chambers. Just as promised, Brienne was waiting for you in the great hall, clad in her furs and thick boots. She had her sword strapped to her belt again and was holding the grip, resting her hand on it. Brienne looked absolutely stunning, standing there, hand on her sword, clad in her winter coat. You swallowed dryly and felt your cheeks flush as you approached her. Smiling sweetly at her, Brienne nodded and opened the door for you. 
The cold air felt nice as you stepped into the open. Brienne and you walked through the garden towards the little forested area in silence, just enjoying the fresh air. The forest was dark, snow covering every surface. No tree, nor branch, nor leaf was showing. It looked as if you were walking through a magical portal. The only sound you heard was the soft whistling of the wind and your and Brienne’s footsteps in the snow. 
“It’s beautiful, isn't it?” You asked, turning your head to look at Brienne who wore a soft, almost invisible smile, and she hummed in agreement. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and her eyes sparkled in the cold atmosphere. She looked ethereal. Your ears grew hot with a blush and you decided to look around. You reached an open area, surrounded by trees, and that’s when you had an idea. Bending down, you grabbed some snow, rolling it into a ball and then throwing it at the unexpecting blonde. With a soft ‘thud’ the snowball broke apart against the Knight’s coat, and she looked at you with surprise. You giggled. 
“Let’s have a snowball fight!” You said, already leaning down again to pick up more snow. 
“My Lady, I don't think this is a good idea. Maybe we should go back now. Your cheeks are all red. I wouldn't want you getting sick!” Brienne replied, but you didn’t answer, simply throwing another snowball at her with a teasing smirk. 
“Come on Ser! It’s so nice here and the snow is perfect!” leaning down, you collected some more snow, creating another snowball and throwing it at her. Brienne seemed unsure, you saw it on her face. She wanted to let go and have fun, but she held herself back. 
“I know you want to! Just do it! Promise I won’t be mad if you hit me. IF you manage to hit me.” You tease, hoping that would get her playful spirit up. The smirk on your face widened when you saw Brienne resting a hand on her hip, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. 
“IF?” she asked “I don’t want to brag, but my aim is rather precise,” she said warningly, staring you down, but there was a playful smile tugging at her lips. You got her right where you wanted her. 
“I’ll only believe it if I see it. Until then, I guess you’re just bad at snowball fights!” You teased, taking a step closer, and watched Brienne break her protective wall she built up. All the talking and the time you got to spend together made Brienne want to open up to you. You didn’t know it, but Brienne fell for you, hard. The first time she saw you, she was starstruck. The way your lips curled into a sweet and welcoming smile every time you saw her, the way your eyes sparkled and how animatedly you talked to her about your favourite topics, and she absolutely adored how clumsy you are. This week was difficult for Brienne for she wanted nothing more but to confess her feelings for you. But she didn’t. She was afraid you would reject her, so she kept her distance, but you made it more difficult every single day. 
“I think you’re just a coward,” you test her, playful smile on your face as you throw another snowball at her. Her gaze turned into a competitive smirk, and at that moment you almost regretted teasing her so much. You knew her strength, her poise, her grace. You knew she would have you yield within seconds in a snowball fight, but you stood your ground. Wanting her to let loose and have fun for once. 
“I’ll give you 10 seconds,” she simply said as she leaned down and started collecting snow for a snowball. It took you about 3 seconds to realise what she had just said, then your eyes widened, and you started grabbing snow, running away with a wide smile, a laugh threatening to spill over your lips. The moment you thought you had enough distance from her, you turned around, only to be hit by a snowball with deadly precision. It hit your chest and the snow trickled down your coat into your garments. You shrieked and just threw a snowball blindly, trying to shake the snow out of your coat. When you looked back up, a single laugh left your lips. You had hit Brienne square in the face with the snowball. Trying not to laugh too much, you took shaking breaths. 
“I am so sorry, Ser. Are you okay?”  You took a step forward, then stopped dead in your tracks. Brienne wiped the snow off her face and looked at you with determination, a dangerous smile on her lips. 
“I’ll get you back for that, Princess!” She said as she started charging towards you, snow in her hand. You squeaked and started running away, unable to hold your laughter back any more. You stumbled and tripped over snow, slipping and sliding the more you tried to run.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you repeated over and over again between gasps of air and laughs. You turned around, wanting to see how close Brienne was, when you suddenly slipped and fell over, rolling onto your back with a laugh. Brienne came to an abrupt halt, which caused her to slip, falling onto the soft snowy ground next to you. She had a huge smile plastered on her face and quickly gathered some snow to throw it on you. You squealed again, wriggling around to free yourself of the snow. Brienne started giggling quietly and watched you, cheeks and nose rosy from the cold, the soft wrinkles next to your eyes from laughing and the wide smile plastered on your face. She was madly in love with you. With a swift move, you turn towards her, thinking it to be the best way to get rid of her throwing snow onto you. Rolling around, you suddenly realised that she was much closer than anticipated. You bumped into her chest, coming face to face with the strong blonde, who instinctively wrapped her arms around you. Your laughs came to a halt, just looking up at her with a smile, admiring her face. Brienne blushed darkly, she wanted to separate again, give you space, but she found herself unable to when you slowly leaned up and pecked the corner of her lips. She closed her eyes, just for a second, taking a shaky breath. 
You did it. Suddenly, the realisation of what you did just hit you as you made eye contact with the Knight. Suddenly, you felt afraid. Before you could pull away and start rambling, the blonde cupped your cheek, pulling you close to plant a soft kiss on your lips, which you reciprocated gladly. She pulled away, stroking your cheek gently, looking into your eyes deeply. You smiled at her and your smile was so wide and happy, Brienne felt her heart burst. All the smiles, all the accidental touches, all the moments where you were so close to her and she pulled away. She now realised that you felt the same all along, and it filled her heart with joy and love. You pecked her lips again quickly, and then a shudder went through you, making Brienne frown. 
“Are you cold?” she asked, sitting up and pulling you up with her. You nodded. 
“Let's go back then. I don’t want you to get sick. Come!” She stood, pulling you up with her, and you held close onto her arm. You couldn’t believe it. She felt the same, she actually felt the same. This was no one-sided love. You were overjoyed. 
The walk back to the castle was quiet. The both of you enjoying each other’s company, basking in the closeness that both of you have longed for so long. Walking into the castle, Brienne and you made your way to the library to warm up in front of the fire. Both of your coats were taken by the maids, taking them back to your chambers to clean them and put them back in the closets. The maids brought some tea for the two of you to warm up whilst you sat in front of the fireplace on the heaps of pillows and furs to warm up. 
You leaned against Brienne as she had her arms wrapped around you, holding you close to her. You turned your head, looking up at her and pressing a kiss to her cheek, making her smile. 
“Brienne?” you asked, nervous about her reaction to you using her first name. The tall blonde blushed. Her name sounded so beautiful coming from you. Like a melody, like a prayer. She hummed in response, urging you to continue. You sat up, taking a deep breath and looking into her eyes. She grew nervous seeing you so anxious.
“May… May I court you… Brienne of Tarth. Properly court you?” You watched her reaction before continuing. Her eyes widened as she watched you, speechless. Was this really happening?
“I- I have found myself a fool for you ever since I laid my eyes on you for the first time. So..- here I ask you. Will you allow me to court you, to cherish you… to love you?” You looked at her, holding your breath in nervous anticipation of her answer. Brienne nodded gently, tears threatening to swell in her eyes. She couldn’t believe her ears. But you were so sincere, you… you really loved her. She sat up, went on one knee and held your hand, looking into your eyes. 
“My Lady… Y/N,” she started, “I will shield your back and give my life for yours if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new. I am yours, eternally.” You smiled at her, not being able to hold back your tears, as you wrapped your arms around her and kissed her lips. Her arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to her as she let her emotions flow freely. Not once has she felt this loved and cherished. You pulled away, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears from under her eyes. 
“My Brienne,” you whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss once more.
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Taglist: @erinyaya @vivendraws @phexyce @winterfireblond
As always comments and likes are greatly appreciated <3
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of-many-aus · 1 year
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Why JJ calls you ‘Bambi’
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Summary: the reason jj calls you that aggravating nickname
Warnings: none
A/N: this takes place approximately three years before the main series
Hate Myself for Loving You Masterlist
・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚.
“I don’t know, JB,” You said hesitantly, “This might not be a good idea.”
Your brother threw his head back with a groan, “Come on, you’re twelve now. It’s about time you learned.”
“What if I’m not good at it, though?” You had begun nervously playing with your hands.
“That’s why I’m here,” He said reassuringly, gently tapping his surfboard against yours, “Now, let’s go. The waves are great today.”
With that, John B began wading into the ocean water, but you stayed back a moment, still hesitating.
“I’m pretty sure you’re the only person on this island that didn’t learn how to surf when you were seven.” The aggravating voice of none other than JJ Maybank sounded in your ear like a chirping bird that wouldn’t shut up in the morning.
A scowl immediately formed on your lips, and instead of answering the boy, you surged forward, hopefully leaving him behind.
Your prayers didn’t seem to be answered though, because you heard some splashing behind you that told you he had followed with his own surfboard.
“Out here!” John B waved you over from where he sat on his board a few yards out.
Slowly, you swam and pushed your surfboard to where he was.
JJ laughed, “You have to get on it,” He called, paddling up beside you.
You stifled a groan, closing your eyes and tilting your head to face the heavens, “Did he really have to be here?” You asked your brother with a slight whine in your voice.
He just shrugged, “I didn’t invite him, he just tagged along.”
A glare was thrown in the blond boy's direction by you, “Hear that? You weren’t invited. So get out of here.”
His mouth opened, no doubt to let out a smart ass comment, but John B interrupted with an exhausted sigh, “Guys, stop it.” He was long since used to your bickering.
He sent a warning look in his best friend's direction, “We’re here to teach her how to surf. If you’re not going to either help or stay quiet, then leave.”
He chose to stay quiet.
For the next half hour, your brother went through the motions with you, teaching you how to stand correctly and how to catch a wave.
JJ stayed silent the whole time, and you were grateful. It was probably the longest he had ever gone without talking.
“- no, move your foot closer to the center-“ Your brother instructed you, only to be cut off by toppling over the side of his board. He hadn’t been paying attention to an incoming wave.
You sighed tiredly as he was submerged, knowing he was fine, but still tired from all the work it took to learn.
Just then, a laugh sounded from the side, causing your head to whip over and eyes to narrow in onto the Maybank boy.
“What?” You snapped.
“N-no, it’s- it’s just…” He laughed again, “You look like Bambi from that old Disney movie during the scene where it tried walking for the first time. It’s like you trying to stay standing on that thing.”
Your cheeks flushed red just in time for John B to resurface.
“Okay,” he said, “Are you ready to try again?”
“Yeah, Bambi,” JJ spoke with a wide grin, “Ready to try again?”
It took everything in you not to lunge across the water and tackle him off his board.
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humanpurposes · 1 month
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I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 2
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Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist
Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon
In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.
Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort
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Two hundred guests stand before us in the royal sept.
Queen Alicent wished for us to be wed as soon as possible, in a less elaborate affair than the union of Aegon and Helana. This seemed like an agreeable decision in the eyes of the Small Council, one that would be more forgiving on the royal treasury. “All that money for the Princess to weep through the entire ceremony,” as Tyland Lannister had put it. 
There can be no room for mistakes on my part. I am an outsider in King’s Landing. I often find myself dressed in gowns of green, a paler shade than the Queen’s own gowns, but I am still a Baratheon. I have to be perfect. I will be perfect.
I’ve hardly seen my betrothed since I said my farewells to my family. The Queen says Aemond keeps himself busy. In the mornings he takes to the training yard to spar with Ser Criston Cole, then he rides Vhagar over the Kingswood and Blackwater Bay. Some mornings I watch them from my balcony. Otherwise he spends the rest of the day in the library, devoting himself to his studies, looking over papers of state given to him by the Hand, his grandfather. 
I know my chambers aren’t far from his, and yet I take my meals alone. I spend a lot of my time alone when I’m not joining the Queen in her morning prayers. She keeps telling me that things will be different once I am married.
My gown is gold and white with patterns of flowers in the skirt. The fabric flows in the breeze from the open windows. Summer will be nearing its end soon, but the sun has shone proudly over King’s Landing for the last few days. I try not to show the discomfort on my face, but I feel sweat beading under my dress, droplets running down my back. 
Aemond wears a jerkin of green, the three-headed dragon embroidered in gold across his chest, the same eyepatch over his head. My eyes trail down from his jaw to the opening of his collar, where his skin shifts as he swallows against the unbearable heat.
He has already replaced my maiden’s cloak with one in the colours of his own house. We place our hands together and the septon binds us together with a tie of black silk.
His eye meets mine and we say the words.
“I am yours, and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days.”
I am not sure I believe what I’m saying. I want to. I want him to mean it too.
Aemond steps into me, taking my chin in his fingertips to tilt my head upwards.
I’m aware of every sensation, the sweltering heat, the nervous feeling in my stomach, the fluttering in my chest, the shallowness of my breaths, all as if they’re happening to someone else and not me. It’s like I’m watching myself in a dream, existing in a memory.
I close my eyes.
He hesitates before he puts his lips to mine. He kisses me softly, slowly, and I want it to consume me. But then he parts from me and I feel empty. I feel incomplete.
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Full chapter on AO3
Tags (commented to be added)
Series taglist: @tulips2715
General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn
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plasticfangtastic · 8 months
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American Royalty. Ch. 7
A Homelander X F! Reader/dadlander fanfic
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A/N: if ya like to be included in the taglist plz leave a request comment, prev. chapters can be found in my pin post and the link below... i'll be updating my pin post after chapter 8 or 9 so they're not so scattered-- thanks to all readers hope y'all like it. I have officially finished writing this story so I should be posting them more regularly.
tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship... a bit of spicy in this chapter.
Chapter Seven
Sharp.
One of the men who looked to be a scientist– and who seemed completely detached from the situation, caught your attention.
“The V. Homelander.” he said, hiding his irritation poorly.
“The kid returned them to me. I left them at the gymnasium. Dropped some. The matter is sorted.” He spat, not giving him a second look, his gaze solely focused on you.
The man swallowed heavily slowly turning towards you, as you stared blankly back at him you noticed the chubby man had been carrying your daughter's sparkly backpack.
“Your daughter. I need to speak to her.” He said hastily.
“You don’t need to” Homelander blocked his vision, standing between you two enraged that he wouldn’t leave you alone.
“Is… Is okay…” Your hands were shaking as you pushed him out the way– my daughter did something really wrong…” You turned to Nigel, your voice wavering as you tried to muster the courage to speak– I am so sorry… I… I’m sorry” You choked.
You had no choice but to take her out of Vought, you knew you could never dream of paying off whatever damages your daughter had incurred on your name, V had to cost a couple hundred-thousands to millions if you had to take a guess, and whatever strange feelings you had a second ago were buried deep with the violent onslaught of anxiety assaulting you– you knew you would be back on the streets if not in jail by the end of the week.
You clutched at your hands feeling your whole body trembling, a sudden jolt traversing across your body as Homelander wrapped an arm across your shoulders trying to contain your relentless shivering, his far away voice told you to take a deep breath, whispering to you words that your ears didn’t quite catch, patiently instructing you to tranquilize to no avail.
“Your daughter, she wrote this.”
The man mustered all his bravery to take a notepad out of her backpack and approach you with it not caring that Homelander was holding you posessively, you looked up towards the item, taking it in your hand– lots of formulas and calculations, her handwriting blocky and messy, but every page was filled with more and more things that you could frankly not decipher– it might as well been hieroglyphics.
“Sorry I don’t understand this.” You were hesitant to hand it back.
“Your daughter managed to do this!.” He went to a particular page of the pad, flicking it in your hands– this… this is a revised version of a new product we had been developing… a new version of V… Your daughter is not in trouble… quite the opposite we would like to extend an olive branch– am so sorry security handled this so poorly.”
Both you and Homelander had matching expressions, both confused as to these sudden changes.
Nigel gasped in relief as Elmo came running towards his father dragging Helena behind him. The man could have hit the child if you weren’t there, he took his son in one swift sweep, holding him tight trying not to sound upset as he kissed him, looking down to find Helena panting behind, the kid hugged his father but didn’t cry–  simply turning to see if Helena was still there.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She replied before the kid rolled his eyes– those guns were loaded y’know.”
“Won’t hurt me” The kid muttered– hurt you lots tho.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before finally acknowledging your existence. Peeking at the mess around her and the decapitated head on the other end of the hallway that Elmo completely ignored, she bit her cheek letting a loud ‘Tch’ spit out.
“Before you scream at me– The chump had nothing to do with it, I simply asked for his services in exchange for candy. Second…” A bubble pop above her hand dropping a half-used vial of Compound V– here” She threw at the scientist.
“Is almost empty!”
“I used it, duh” She wasn’t apologetic in the least– now you can scream at me.” she gestures to you to procceed.
You dropped on your knees pulling her into your arms in a vicious and desperate embrace, your heart beating so hard she could feel it thumping against her white sweater, you tried not looking at the empty stare of the decapitated head on the other side of the hall… it was your fault that man had died, you thought. Yet you were glad Homelander had killed him. Glad he had done one right thing for her.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Homelander said without actually caring, he was glad to see her unharmed, seeking for any scuff marks or bruises with his X-Ray vision.
Your daughter looked at the scientist then at her belongings.
“I fixed it… your C.V24… in theory of course. Technically you were on the right track with V25 but my formula should reduce the side effects by 76% percent not 67%… would be down to 85% if I had more time.” She strokes your back in circular motions to fake reassurance– sorry for acting like a kid… I did a stupid.”
The man clenched his jaw then looked back at the notes, the formula in theory could be the pathway to finding a solution to all their troubles, Homelander mouth dropping in disbelief.
“What do you mean you fixed it?” He asked.
“Your original formula is a death trap… a shit dilution of V– all bark no bite… your stabilizing was the issue… V is a beast with a mind of its own… even your current serum is a mess… you could even program it to dictate a power if your men used their brains for once– so I decided to do that… now Elmo can fly.”
Nigel's eyes widened.
“You… You experimented on your friend?” You asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse.
Your daughter's eyes blip blue as she gives you a discomforting smile, you didn’t know if you should hold her or take a step away.
“I was thinking of administering the new serum as a pill or like an LSD sticker.” She wriggled away from you and towards Elmo as his father took a step away from those shimmering blue eyes– show him Elmo.”
Elmo nodded obediently with a light push he wiggled upwards and floated close to the ceiling.
“I was aiming for laser or pyrokinesis but again I only had a couple weeks to come out with the formulas… had I had more time.” she grumbled.
“You gave him V25?” Homelander asked, plucking the kid by the leg down to eye level– how…?”
“Nah I gave him my new V serum… I gave it to him like two hours ago… I was working on the V.C 26 on paper but I was messing with V… altho if the mices I worked with are any indication– he might still explode in three hours give or take”
Her nonchalant tone was matched by a small kid who seemed far too exhausted with her, Elmo dropped to the ground. Homelander was mostly in awe that the kid could fly after only two hours and based on her heartbeat she wasn’t telling the truth entirely, but he kept it to himself for the moment.
“He could explode! You could’ve killed him already!” The scientist spoke on your behalf looking at the child horrified.
“Maybe you should’ve kept him in the labs instead of dragging us here… bit rich for you to care considering you experiment on people all the time without their consent…. Sage Grove, Elmira… Godolkin… should I keep going? Great timing to grow a conscience, clown.” 
She took her bag off his hands, and her pad.
“Left you a sample if you'd like to test it out… hope you copied it because I ain’t giving it to you for free”
“That’s Vought property!” He tried taking the notepad from her hand, she jumped back lifting her chin for a thick invisible wall to divide the space– you little–
An invisible force maneuvers him flat against the wall, his cheeks pressed comically against the translucent sheet.
“Am I in trouble?” She looked at her father.
“Can you squeeze him flat?” He asked, looking curiously at the scene.
“Can hold back a thousand gallons… what do you think?” 
“Let him go. Get the kid under observation and let’s see what this nerd wants.” He said with a jovial tone.
It was like a scene of a bad movie, you were simply forced to watch as they both bonded over their mutual awfulness– the rest of the evening became a blur, your body had moved but you weren’t piloting it, sounds measly echoes as you followed them around, occasionally catching Nigel and now presumably his husband Sven talking as he had joined the party by the time you noticed you had arrived in the labs… unsure when/how you got here.
Your body observed as Helena dragged the scientist and now a small posse of coated men to discuss her work, you left to sit alone in one of the rooms.
The lights were low, and at some stage Homelander had come in– it was painfully silent until he arrived, but you were just there, half-alive.
“What are you looking at?” Homelander said in a hushed voice as he touched you with a naked hand– can you tell me?”
“There’s a scratch on that metal panel” your voice is so quiet it scares him slightly.
His hand was so light on your shoulder, as if it was hovering instead of being there, he took a chair and pushed it to your side, you both sat together as you scrunched up his cape once he offered you the tip, your hands unconsciously picking up the fabric– the texture like thick culderog.
“We took the kid to Disneyland then the kid acted like they were at Disneyland and we got upset about it.” He said, Homelander’s hand atop of yours as you fidgeted– is okay, daddy has taken care of it, you are not in trouble, baby.” his voice was slightly mocking but it was trying to crack a bad joke– not to insult you.
He leaned against you, feeling the sharp metal edges of his eagles against your shoulders. You started to blink harshly trying to push away the fog with this discomfort, his arm on your hip as he rested his chin atop of your head– he was pulling you into a side-hug, meeting no resistance to his surprise.
“You don’t have to worry 'bout anything.” His voice is warm– am a hero, remember?”
“That kid is going to die…” you whimpered.
“Elmo Cripple is perfectly fine.”
“She didn’t care.” Your voice, starting to crack once again.
“She’s a very confident young lady.” he grimaces– a tad too confident if I say so myself… but you should hear her talking to those guys right now, is incre— I have no idea what she’s saying.”
“Welcome to my life” You nuzzled yourself against him, he was so warm, you could remember the heat– I… I don’t know what I am going to do with her?” You sobbed lightly.
“Let her pursue her dreams while supervised so we don’t have to deal with potential murder charges.”
He tried to make you laugh with his tone but all you could muster was staring back at him with a furrowed brow, your tears staining your cheeks already.
“‘Phantasma and Poltergeist’ I don’t how I feel about our kid being in a team-up… even if the competition isn’t steep– It’ll get difficult as she gets older but then again I don’t want Ryan to compete directly with her for the spotlight, its two different markets with completely different appeals.”
“I don’t want to talk about her being a superhero when we haven’t even handled this…” you said, holding back a sob, trying to clean your face against him.
“... ‘we’?” His hands gave your side a squeeze as his other took your hands more gently making sure to rub your dried knuckles– I think we can handle this, Y/N… we can keep a short leash on her… from now on– rely on me… you deserve that."
Staring back at her happily explaining her process, enjoying seeing the group of Phds feelings of inferiority coloring their faces, it was obvious that she shouldn’t even be in the 10th grade, simply staying behind for your well-being, but just how big was her IQ– how much more smarter was she? 
Homelander wanted to see his bouquet of peonies set as the centerpiece she was meant to be, to let her shine as she deserved.
You pulled on his wrist wanting to be held more, it didn’t matter if it was your shitty ex-boyfriend or not, you wanted affectioness, longing for empathy and gentleness.
You already had been kissing– in public no less! He had plans of holding you hostage until you agreed to play house with him, Homelander already testing the waters by making your children play together. Maybe it was your survival mechanism ill-timing but your mind desperately demanded a distraction, your lips were still able to taste peppermint, so your mind wandered south– possibly because that golden belt buckle was perfectly in your sight.
Frankly the last time you had a date was when Helena was five, they were cute, visited Lucci a couple times before asking for your number, the dates were great and the last time you had sex was with this guy before he dumped you, you thought they’ve potential and your wrist had taken enough abuse over the years– if anything you had given up your womanhood, too tired and focused with rearing lil’ Einstein to notice your needs, sleeping with this cutie wasn’t terrible but the moment the word “Freak” was uttered in reference to your kid– you were throwing their shit out the window. 
For the first time since she was born you found yourself not alone and supported, your friends had seen you like you carrier of pestilence affecting their jobs by virtue of association, your inability to find employment quickly burdened your friends and relatives, your family and yourself had not seen eye-to-eye for years, your relationship cracking deep enough to touch the abyss once you came home pregnant with no man behind you, then it was out the door after a couple weeks, even the kid didn’t appease them later down the track.
Could he really be relied on? Money was but a gesture of good will– covering for your kid for stealing maybe millions of dollars of god’s own spunk, and potentially getting your daughter acquitted for murder. Now that might be worth a blowie.
And he hurt your jaw quite graciously.
You looked up straight into his face, he had been talking for god knows how long without you noticing, and took his face.
Tasting like spearmint and iron, he was hesitant at first unsure if the timing was good but quickly relented as your tongue got more demanding, his hands now had no clue where to sit or what to touch but he let you take the lead. 
You tousled and pulled on his hair, wanting to get him close to you, to feel something good from him for once.
He pushed you lightly as he heard your daughter's steps encroaching, he stood up with a light blush on his ears as he pointed at the door, you looked up wanting to say something but there she was with a big grin on her face and her chest bouncing with excitement.
“You proud of yourself?” Did you ask her or yourself, there?-- If your friend dies…”
“Elmo won’t die… not on a microdose of V. for fuck sakes this company sold diluted V for a G-Fuel collab!”
“You say that but you had never actually worked with V until now! Do you have any idea what you were doing!?”
She looked at the desk nearby, the little GP office setting in this room sort of amusing.
“No. Got a little too eager when I found the playground, it’s sort of a cruel joke for me to be able to make myself invisible, and be in the same building as all of this” She gestured to her surroundings– just because I'm smart doesn’t mean I have the emotional intelligence of an adult to match… So?”
“Do whatever you want Helena… I can’t… I can’t with you… just–
Homelander turned to you, concerned at your tone, it was harsh. Where you giving up on her? He though.
You buried your face beneath your hands, trying to calm down.
“I won’t kill anybody, I'm not interested in that.”
“So what are you interested in?” You argue smacking your back flat on the back of the seat– please enlighten me!?”
“Vought.” Homelander interjects– oh you’re clever…”
He picks her up, poking her nose, there’s an air of comfort in his gesture, as if he always had done so.
“You're a scheming little munchkin.” he squeezes her cheeks jokingly– this isn’t Game of Thrones, darling. Daddy will take care of you”
“You mean the shareholders will take care of me once they realize you can re-open Stan Edgar’s plan to get into the US military… then the police force. Thanks to me.” She gives him a peck on the cheek– but don’t forget I’m not an only child.”
Homelander was blindsided by such a gesture, between you two he was in a tight spot.
Still he was entering heaven as his heart skipped a beat or two, feeling his daughter clung to him, feeling how dangerously light she was, how cute she was, how perfect she was.
Your daughter and yourself stayed silent during that drive home, the radio louder than usual, only when you reached your home did you act, stopping her belt-buckle from coming undone.
“You asked me to play a role in your game without a script– had to improvise.”
“Don’t give me that. You did something horrific Helena! I can't even believe you!” you snapped, your daughter frowned in return as you smacked your palms on the steering wheel– just admit you wanted to do it!”
“I did. I wanted to explore those labs. I like looking at things at Vought– it's stimulating! you want me to get “dad” to love me, no? He loves Vought! I'm just his bastard competing againts the son he’s loved for longer! so I show interest in the one thing he loves other than himself to have an advantage!”
“You went too far!!” you snapped.
“I am not sleeping in a car ever again, Y/N!!” She turned to you with rage in her sight– we are not going back! So you do your thing and I do my thing.”
You let go of her belt buckle.
“You hurt people.” you whispered, pain palpable in your lips, trying to not scream, to not slap her, to stay calm as your daughter heaved angrily, as her eyes glowed intensely.
“I haven’t– Elmo Cripple is alive… so far the only one that’s been hurt is me!!”
She gritted her teeth, the air growing thin inside your old station wagon.
“What is ‘Poltergeist’ getting out of this? He’s not like you.” You didn’t want to argue with her, afraid you would forget she was a child and not a woman– What have you done to him?”
“He’s a dog… don’t worry… he understands I have a vision– I need you to get Homelander to publicly acknowledge me as his daughter.”
Helena hopped off the car slamming the door on her way out.
Your daughter and yourself didn’t speak for the rest of the day, she silently did her thing with only the sounds of the television filling the gap, until bedtime– you sat outside with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you glanced at the potted trees and the smooth gray walls of your homely prison, large windows framing your reflection allowing you to catch the blue and red coming down in the glass unsurprisingly.
“You want some hot chocolate?” You asked, lifting your cup.
He looked disgusted at the idea.
“She’s sleeping… I am calling in sick tomorrow… I need a day off…” you muttered as he landed before you, he pushed the metal chair scraping the grass, to take a seat by your side.
“How are you feeling? They will be trying her formula, so she will be there under Dr. Park vigilance… talk about cool after-school activities-- beats being a girl-scout!.” Homelander was clearly not that interested in you tonight– I kept an eye on Poltergeist. All his vital signs are fine.”
You seemed a little relieved.
Gawking at him, his bleached blonde locks, those sharp features and beautiful thin lips, you felt a tingle in your chest.
You wanted to forget about today, to not think of Helena’s actions.
Your smile was sad but he hadn’t noticed.
“Wanna fuck?” You put the cup down with a huff.
Homelander gave you a double take, this was the easiest way to wash away today’s events-- Helena's words creeping back at you... you had to to bind him to you... like this you could rid of these strange sensations simmering within, as you stared at his pretty blue eyes, and his belt, you threw away rationale.
“My battery ran out.”
His nervous smile was cute, you stood up… him still in the chair– turning around once again as you opened the door, inviting him to enter your domain.
Homelander was still so handsome it was infuriating to acknowledge that. Compared to your dull exhausted skin– he was still so fine. It wouldn’t be the worst you’ve done, you missed the attention, and he wanted yours so why not? You scratched your head as he simply stood frozen on the spot, shrugging your shoulders as you closed the door behind– only for his hand to keep it open, his breath ragged and the blush in his cheek matching the faint light of his eyes.
“Are… Are you sure?” he asked nervously.
“John” You tap his chest with your knuckles– take it off.”
Bells rang inside his brain, a shimmering perturbed gaze burning directly at you– a dog awaiting orders.
He followed you into the living room ditching his boots and tights on the way to that terrible couch, he watched you closely as you took a blanket and threw it on the ground alongside the cushions, licking his lip as you took your shirt off revealing your bare breasts.
He was quick to take you into his arms, kissing you intensely, your hands reaching after his neck, fingers harshly caressing his undercut, as he slid down your bottoms.
“You miss me?” His hands were so needy as he bit into your neck leaving trails of hickeys, his tongue savoring that spot where he had marked you as his own, the dents in your skin and the sunken discolored flesh left by his bite mark– it tickles…” 
In the heat of the moment he had bitten you, feasting on your blood as pleasure and pain intertwined, your mind blank as he made love to you, fostering a hatred for mirrors after it all ended, feeling him kiss his signature made you anxious, not wanting to relieve the bitter memories in this moment.
“Mommy…” He whispered as he returned to kiss and lick your neck– "It's been so long, mommy.” he said breathlessly.
“Is been long for me too, my sweet boy.” He moaned into your skin, his maws needy, eager to taste you, his breathless soughs turning you light as he brought you down onto the floor, holding your head as he kissed your neck and ears– you promise to make mommy feel good just like I taught you, baby?” Your voice is sickly sweet making his eyes flare up.
“Can… Can mommy show me again?” His voice gravelly and low as he cupped your chest.
You wedged your legs from under him with a cheeky smile.
“I’ll be extra-thorough then, so pay attention, sweetie.”
He liked that tone in your voice, he liked it even more when you commanded him, how long had it been since you lead him? Too long... too long to bare another moment without it.
Unsurprisingly he had no need for a refresher.
Taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity (hope you had a nice snack for this chapter :), @demodemo909 @immyowndefender
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indecentpause · 11 months
Text
White Rabbit: Chapter Seven
cw: psych medication, negative side effects, sexual assault/rape mention, victim blaming, food, internalized homophobia
I skip the showers again, but I change my clothes in the room’s tiny bathroom. I wash my face and run my damp fingers through my hair. I need a brush. I’ll have to check the bag, but I don’t think Nina brought one. Maybe they’ll have a cheap disposable comb. Better than nothing. The mirror is warped and water-stained, but the green eyes that look back at me aren’t so dark anymore. The rings are a little fainter, the cheeks a little fuller, the skin not so pale. My lips are still chapped and bitten, but you can’t have everything. The clothes don’t fit me. They’re a little too loose and a little too long, and I look like a ratty little girl trying to dress up in her classy big sister’s favorite outfit. But it’s clean, and it smells like Nina’s laundry detergent. I press the wrist of the sleeve of the cardigan into my nose. Water lilies and clean springs. I don’t leave the room until they call for breakfast, and I try to get there first so I can sit alone. But Carrie corners me and sits across my table. I look up from my cold pancakes, but don’t speak. “Those clothes are really pretty,” she says. “They’re my… my friend brought them to me,” I say. I’m still feeling out whether it’s safe to talk about Nina as who she actually is. So far, I don’t think there would be a problem. Carrie doesn’t even seem to have a judgment meter, but after my parents kicked me out, I’m still wary about telling people. “They look expensive.” I look down at the too-loose sleeve of the lavender cardigan and its big knit holes. “No, she just spends a lot of time trawling through thrift stores.”
read chapter seven on ao3 here
or on wattpad here!
General taglist: @abalonetea @only-book-lovers-left-alive @poore-choice-of-words @leadhelmetcosmonaut @jasperygrace @drippingmoon @thelaughingstag @athenswrites @kaiusvnoir @magic-is-something-we-create @idreamonpaper @wip-nook @papercutsunset @winterandwords @heavensfallenfaction
let me know if you want to be added or removed to the White Rabbit list, OR if you want to stay on the general list but not be tagged in this one. I understand there is some pretty potentially triggering content. or let me know if you want to be removed from both!
my lists got a little mixed up, so if you wanted to only be tagged in tag games and I've accidentally put you here, too, please don't hesitate to ask me to fix it :)
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moonbeamsung · 2 years
Text
Roll the Dice
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Any time spent with Jaemin is a gamble. And tonight, you might have just bet your life.
member: jaemin (featuring the dreamies)
au: crime boss!jaemin x gn!reader, heist au
word count: 3.1k
genre: angst, action, crime, romance
warnings: drinking (characters are of age), gambling, mentions of weapons, mentions of police, profanity, kissing, slight innuendos
recommended songs: lotto by exo, bonnie & clyde by yuqi, kazino by bibi, diamonds + and pearls by dpr live/dpr ian/peace.
author's note/disclaimer: I’ve returned to Tumblr! But more importantly, this is a much delayed work for the Cliffhanger collab of a deactivated writer, @nakamotocore. I do not condone stealing or any other criminal actions of the characters depicted in this story. Feedback is appreciated.
taglist: @navyhyuck @chicksung @mrkcore @mieohmy @rouiyan @sicluvz @luvdhl @chocohannie @rousrxxn
network tags: @ankathi-a @neoturtles
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The skyline sparkles like diamonds, tall spires of buildings reaching far past the clouds overhead. You’ve seen many cities in your lifetime but none as full of glitz and glamour as this one.
You’re enamored by the sight for several seconds, allowing the man across from you an inspection of your features. Ordinarily, the dim lighting inside of the sleek black limousine wouldn’t be as forgiving, but you look elegant and ethereal to Na Jaemin. “Enjoying the view, doll?”
The comment brings you out of your daze and you jolt, remembering your company and the true reason why you’re all here tonight. Six other males occupy the cabin around you, engaged in various conversations, some with tall glasses of champagne in their hands already. Slowly but steadily, your car is making its way to the city’s finest and most luxurious casino, exclusively open to A-list patrons and complete with all the accommodations of a 5-star resort.
A minute or two passes before the limo driver rolls down the partition window, alerting your group that you’ll be arriving shortly. Only after the window is fully closed does Jaemin smoothly reach into his suit pocket and pull out a handful of ID cards, one for each occupant.
“Jeno?”
“On it,” the man responds without hesitation, already reaching inside a bag you didn’t notice before to reveal a thin, silver laptop. The screen lights up his face, and in a rapid clicking of keys, his expression becomes one of triumph. “We’re in.”
With a raised eyebrow, Jaemin rattles off a list of unfamiliar names to Jeno, whose fingers fly across the keyboard to keep up. The crime boss is only satisfied when his technician nods curtly and closes the computer, signaling the first step of their operation as successful. It’s time, Jaemin thinks.
He distributes the IDs around the cabin, and you take a moment to gingerly graze your fingertips over the photo and the fake name that have been printed on the card. There’s only a sliver of worry present in your mind compared to when you first started working with Jaemin and his gang. You figure it will never go away completely, but the man himself keeps telling you otherwise.
A rush of euphoria assaults your senses when you finally step out of the vehicle. Bathed in a golden glow provided by the lights of the casino's carport, Jaemin offers his arm and takes the lead, gesturing for the others to follow closely behind. He escorts you inside like a true gentleman, the two of you flashing practiced, dazzling smiles at the staff as you pass by.
Crystal chandeliers dangle from the ceiling of a large atrium, where a casino attendant beckons your group over. “Name and identification, please.”
In a way that almost seems rehearsed, each one of you parrots the new name you had been given by Jaemin only minutes prior, handing over your ID cards and awaiting the green light for your entrance.
Seven of the eight of you have been approved when you suddenly hear, “I’m sorry, Mister…what was it?” The employee takes a longer look at Jaemin’s fake ID, furrowing his brows as he does so. The man in question appears unfazed, only letting out a sharp “Yes?”
“...Ah! My apologies, sir. You’re in the system, please go on in.” He chuckles lightly, wondering why he doubted his own eyes. Maybe he needs new glasses.
Jaemin gives a tight-lipped smile this time. That’s what I thought.
All of you make your way into the main room, weaving between poker tables until you find a quieter set of slot machines near a corner.
“So, just like we planned—”
“Yes, Jisung,” Jaemin snaps, “And lower your voice, for the love of god. All of you, fan out and keep in touch.” He moves a tuft of bubblegum pink hair to reveal a nearly microscopic earpiece. The six men hum in acknowledgement, and you bring a hand up to instinctively tap your own device.
You remain glued to Jaemin’s side just as you were when you entered, and he slinks an arm around your waist while guiding you toward the bar.
“You’re sure about this?” You inquire, looking over your shoulder at the group as they split off into pairs. Will the boys really be fine without the two of you?
“About what, my love?” He purrs, hand squeezing your side playfully.
“Stop it, Jaem. You know what I mean.” The feeling in the pit of your stomach is an unpleasant one, and it seems unwise to keep it to yourself.
Despite the worry in your voice, he brushes it off like a speck of dust on his dark velvet suit. “Don’t be ridiculous, this is the fun part. We don’t have to do any of the work.”
“Are you telling me you don’t ever get a gut feeling about something? Because this time just seems—”
“Different, yeah, you used that one last week.”
“I’m telling you—”
“Well, well, well, are we interrupting a lovers’ quarrel?”
Your expressions and demeanors transform in an instant, and Jaemin helps you onto a stool at the bar as he answers. “Not exactly,” he grins. “My date here just doesn’t want me to bet too much tonight.”
“Are you kidding?” One of the women that walked up to you exclaims, “You’re at the fanciest casino for miles around! Live a little!” She raises her drink above her head for emphasis, nearly spilling the dark red liquid on her long white gown.
“I’m just saying,” you interject, turning to Jaemin with a smile that subtly conveys your disdain for his nonchalant attitude about this whole heist situation. “We’ve come so far already, I wouldn’t want him to be careless enough to risk it all.”
“And that’s why I’m telling you not to worry, darling. I know what I’m doing.” He smirks in your direction and then in the direction of the two ladies. Before you can continue to argue, he steps closer and, in an act of pure indulgence, brings his face dangerously close to yours. Your boss has never been the type to commit to a scheme to this degree, but here you both are, faking an intimate relationship and acting like you belong to this exclusive social tier, all while your colleagues sneak around in attempts to make a fortune.
“What do you say we, you know,” the man hums, in a voice so low you’re the only one who hears. “Kiss and… make up… and all that other bullshit, hmm?”
With one hand tilting your chin up, he deliberately flicks his gaze down to your lips and pauses to let you make the next move. Your brief hesitation makes Jaemin doubt himself, one of the rarest things for him to do, but his confidence is renewed when you finally close the distance and sigh against him. The affectionate display makes your company exchange glances of awe, and they briskly stroll away when it becomes clear that this isn’t just a mere peck.
It’s impossible to ignore how much Jaemin has taken a liking to you in the span of a few months. Behind closed doors, the other guys joke about how their jobs and lives would be so much easier if the man would hurry up and get laid already. Obviously, the feeling is mutual, and you love to think of your situation as something out of a twisted, criminal fairytale.
His hands and lips are reminiscent of warm honey on your skin, touch fiery as if this is a passion that’s long been kept under wraps, like a crime scene covered in caution tape. But the moment is cut short when your earpiece begins to crackle with a message, and the static of Renjun’s voice breaks both of you apart. You had almost forgotten you’re in a public place. That’s how gifted Jaemin is with his charms, making you feel like you’re the only other soul in the world. Making you feel special.
“No snags so far, boss. Donghyuck and Mark are on their way to the vault now.”
Jaemin huffs, “Great, but was that really worth interrupting me, Huang?” From his tone of voice, even the man on the other end can tell he just rolled his eyes.
Renjun swallows, stuttering. “I—I thought you’d like to know.”
“All I need to know is when you’re done and we can get the hell out of here.”
Just like that, Jaemin returns to his usually cold and calculating persona, no longer setting your face ablaze with warmth or making the butterflies in your stomach flutter. After pressing a button on his earpiece, he returns his focus to you. “Now, where were we?”
You feel your heart skip a beat. Before you can manage to get a word in, however, he’s already beckoning to the bartender over the counter. “What would you like to drink, doll?”
Luckily for Jaemin, all of your previous uncertainty melts away with the alcohol you consume in the form of margaritas, martinis, and everything in between. His insistence on paying the bill isn’t met with any disagreement on your part, and he repeatedly slides his credit card back and forth across the bar.
He’d never admit it, but your worrying affects him more than he lets on. Even though your recruitment was the most recent, he’s grown the closest to you for reasons he cannot seem to decipher. He can trust you to keep a level head and think rationally more than anyone else in your group, so when you say you have a bad feeling, it makes his own insides churn with apprehension.
You’ve had some close calls in the past, sure, but nothing has ever gone totally and completely awry. Jaemin wasn’t lying when he told you he knows what he’s doing. He just has to trust that the boys do their jobs and do them well. After everything he’s worked for, he doesn’t know what he’d do if they screw this up.
A few shots in, the man looks around and sees a handful of security guards that he didn’t notice before. One of them whispers something into another’s ear, and the rest stand stoically, scanning the crowd of people. Most patrons are engrossed in games of chips and cards while a loud jazz tune blares overhead. Slot machines chime all around the large room, glasses clink, and shouts of victory or of defeat erupt from gamblers in every corner of the casino.
Sipping bubbly liquid from a champagne flute, you whine when Jaemin takes you by the wrist and pulls you off the barstool. He scans his credit card one more time before leading you back over to the slot machine you congregated at one hour earlier.
“Listen, I get the feeling this place is onto us.”
You slur your words a bit, “Wha—What makes you… say that?”
“I just know. You need to be ready to make a getaway, alright?” He glances around. “Let’s go find a bathroom.”
Wrapping an arm around your waist once more, Jaemin leads the two of you in the opposite direction of the increased security measures. A long carpeted hallway appears to connect the casino to its adjoining resort hotel, lined with restaurants and window displays. You spot a restroom sign a little ways down and point at it loosely, “There,” you mumble.
It’s by far the nicest bathroom either of you have ever set foot in. Antique-looking sconces illuminate the space, providing a cozy ambience, and the speckled marble counter is so shiny you can see your reflection. Jaemin takes a seat in the miniature lounge area while you plant your arms on both sides of the single sink, leaning over it in case your body decides to reject its current contents.
Considering how crowded the casino is, Jaemin had been surprised to find the bathroom empty. He absentmindedly fumbles with his fingers while you glance down at yourself, distracted by your own done-up appearance for the occasion. As far as he’s concerned, the both of you can hide out in here until the job is done.
On the other side of the casino and several floors below, the rest of the group has infiltrated its security and is on the way to making a fortune. Their two tech geniuses hacked into camera footage to manually override the system, replacing the current feeds by replaying old segments. While the men sneak through corridors of marble, the guards see those same corridors as nothing but empty. Jeno and Chenle, their portion of the work already done, sit waiting inside an unoccupied office while Jisung and Renjun guard the entrance to one of the facility’s many vaults. Donghyuck and Mark don’t find any lasers or booby traps within, like numerous Hollywood films had led them to believe. Instead, a simple padlock protects the large wheel on the wall, awaiting a 9-digit code.
Mark reaches up to press a button on his earpiece, “We’re ready for it, Chenle.”
A beat. Then, “Okay, here it comes. Seven, one, five, two…”
Leather briefcases now brimming with cash, the men slowly close the vault behind them, joining their colleagues upon exiting and going to find the two that remain.
Of course, Jeno and Chenle had expected their accomplices to come bursting through the door at some point, but the sight of a police officer doing it instead nearly makes both of their hearts stop beating. A hand on his walkie-talkie is all it takes for them to react, still recovering from the shock. The younger’s next message gets broadcasted to everyone’s earpieces:
“Run.”
You’re slumped in a lounge chair next to Jaemin as you anxiously wait for the all clear, but that word is a far cry from it. Your brain is lost, overwhelmed by your fight or flight instincts taking over immediately. The aforementioned man is on the same page, and once he makes sure the coast is clear, the two of you leave the safety of the restroom and bolt down the hallway.
After dodging dozens of security guards and weaving your way through crowds, you and Jaemin come barreling out of a staff exit and find yourselves standing in a large parking lot. With a flourishing reach into his pocket, he procures a set of keys and presses a button, causing the lights of a nearby sedan to flicker in reply. It’s quite a few steps down from the vehicle you arrived here in, but that fact is of no importance. You’ve got much bigger problems to deal with.
Jaemin is already buckled into the driver’s seat of the getaway car by the time the alarms begin to sound. You climb in the passenger side, and the rest of the boys are close behind, scrambling out of the same exit before piling into a second vehicle. Your group has once again split into two, this time accidentally, but the chaos and commotion prevents you and Jaemin from doing anything about it. With a foot firmly on the accelerator, you emerge from the lot, heading for the busy streets of the city.
Soon enough, you look over to see harsh flashes of blue and red lighting up Jaemin’s face, a manic grin plastered on his lips through every hairpin turn. It almost frightens you. Knuckles white and scarred, the man clutches the steering wheel so hard it could snap from the dashboard with just one tug. Nothing else on earth can compare to the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins in this moment. This is what he lives for.
A slightly garbled voice speaks into Jaemin’s ear. “Police blockade on fifth. They’ll cut us both off.”
His smile falters when he hears this, and maybe that’s for the best. “We’ll go around, then. But we have to split up, the back roads are too narrow for both of us.” Jaemin’s tone is eerily calm for being in the midst of a car chase, but before you can contemplate this any longer, an excruciating headache pierces your scalp, and you instantly regret all those drinks you had. “You make a left at the next intersection, and we’ll make a right,” Donghyuck suggests.
Normally, Jaemin would object. He calls the shots. But this time he lets it slide. Besides, there’s not much time to argue. “Got it.”
Donghyuck signs off, and Jaemin commences the former’s plan. In a skid of tires, the vehicle swings to the side, just barely avoiding oncoming traffic, heaviest at this time of night. The sirens pursuing you begin to blare even louder, more violently now. You feel the cool leather of the passenger door press into your skin, the growing momentum forcing your body up against it as the car bumps the curb.
Jaemin floors the gas pedal even harder, wildly glancing between each mirror of the car. Signs and street lamps rush past on the darkened street, and strangely, it quiets. The rearview reveals that any vehicles pursuing you must have stopped. It doesn’t matter why. For a few seconds you think you’ve made it. The road ahead is a path leading to freedom, and you’ll live to swindle another day, just as you always do. But your pride is short-lived. A cop car appears, pulling out into the road and obscuring any chance of escape. This is it. You’re trapped.
“Shit,” Jaemin curses. “They’ve blocked off this road too. Donghyuck’s out of his mind.”
“Why’d you listen to him?” You scold, trying not to panic as he slams on the brakes.
He either doesn’t hear you or chooses not to answer your question, and simply exits the vehicle. You can think of no other option but to do the same. Is he really giving up? Surrendering so easily? Your boss has to have some sort of trick up his sleeve, but he’s cutting it close by waiting this late. Now that the police are involved, your very lives could be in danger.
Standing back to back with Jaemin, you watch as more police cars arrive and form a circle, fully surrounding the two of you. Out of the corner of your eye, you can gather that he’s not complying with their orders to put his hands up. Instead, he’s removing a handgun from the inside of his suit jacket, prompting expletives and exclamations to fly through the air.
“This is your plan? Do you want to get us killed?” You hiss, venom in your words. Now Jaemin’s out of his mind. “Is that even loaded?”
“Hmm, I forget,” he replies nonchalantly, twirling it around with a slender hand. You can still hear his low voice as clear as day, even with the yelling of the officers all around you. “Guess we’ll see.”
Yes, the man is officially fucking insane.
In a split second, your back meets Jaemin’s torso as he pulls you to him, aiming the gun over your shoulder. Looking back and up into his face, you’re fully convinced this could be the last thing you see, your last moment on earth.
And he pulls the trigger.
31 notes · View notes
dylanwritesgood · 2 years
Text
All your faith, all your rage | Chapter 5
masterlist | ko-fi | ask
Part: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine
Summary: Gareth is relearning how to deal with high school after sudden hearing loss, and Eddie sees in him another little sheepie to rescue. Set before ST4.
Pairings: Eddie Munson & Gareth Emerson, Hellfire Club, Corroded Coffin
Word count: 4,178
Warnings: Discussion about bullying, overprotective mom, anxiety, canon drug use (though underage), hurt/comfort, autistic and deaf character written by an autistic and deaf author
Read on Ao3
A/N: I guess I'll start a tag list for this! Message or reply if you want on it.
Taglist (message me to be added):
@andyquinn21
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Gareth’s mom had been furious when he came home sporting a bruise on his forehead and had tried to hide it from her. She’d gotten eagle-eyed when it came to spotting bumps and bruises on her kids, since none of them were graceful—but Gareth was the worst of the bunch. And, of course, the school had phoned her to let her know.
She’d caught him as he tried to duck downstairs to his room, intercepting him and catching his chin in her grip like Eddie had to examine it. Jan didn’t realize she was shaking with barely controlled rage until Gareth flinched away. She released his face and took a step back, apologetic.
“Shit, baby, I’m sorry…” She chewed her lower lip, studying his face from the new distance. He watched her warily.
“I didn’t start it.” He sounded defensive, waiting for her to ground him like she had when his temper got the better of him last year and he’d gotten into a fight. Poor guy, she thought. He’d gotten his mom’s fiery temper and short fuse.
“I know, baby. School called me.” She held up her hand like a phone to her ear. “Are you okay?”
“Hurts,” he admitted. 
The cold soda Jeff had held to his face all through lunch and the icepack the nurse had given him when Eddie took him to report the incident had helped, but not enough. And he’d spent his whole free period bouncing from the nurse to the principal to an impromptu visit with Ms. Kelly, so he was exhausted. He just wanted a nap and to do his homework and listen to a tape and—he blew out a sigh. 
“Bad time to ask if I can go to Jeff’s tonight?” He asked with a hesitant laugh, fishing Kim’s note out of his back pocket to hand it over.
Jan doesn’t know all of his friends’ scripts, yet, but she can guess this was written by the lone girl in their gang. She liked Kim—had only met her once but Jan knew she’d bullied Gareth into letting her tutor him and she waved sweetly when she picked him up to go to one of the houses that weren’t close enough to bike to. She liked Eddie, too, for forcibly adopting Gareth into their group, and Jeff and Kevin were kind, too. She thought it might have been Jeff who dropped Gareth off in the driveway after school.
“It’s a school night,” she said, watching his face. When she tried to meet his eyes, she watched them slip upward to somewhere around her hairline.
“I know,” he mumbled, switching his gaze to look down at the floor between them. As if he didn’t look sad enough, he gently prodded his bruise with curious fingers and hissed in pain.
“Homework?” She asked, giving him a pointed look, trying not to smile at his attempts to fish for sympathy.
He’d prepared for that question. He wasn’t quite done, but he’d finished what he could during the little bit of free period he had left after all the fuss over getting slammed into his locker.
“I just have a little left, but I need Kim’s help with it…” See, Mom? I’m a good kid.
Her stern mom expression falters and then breaks completely as she laughs. “Kim, huh? Kim who will be at the sleepover?”
Gareth didn’t understand her words, tilting his head to the side and furrowing his eyebrows. His mom cupped his cheek in her palm and he leaned into it. She could see the tiredness from the day weighing on him. The doctors had warned her that he’d get tired more easily, working his brain overtime to keep up. Pulling her hand away, she mimicked writing on her other palm and pointed to the door leading downstairs. She could write him notes down there.
He collapsed onto his bed as soon as they hit the bottom of the stairs, wriggling around enough until he can reach the laces of his sneakers to untie them and lever them off. They fell to the floor beside his bed with a thump. Janet scooped a notepad and a pencil off of his desk and sat beside him. She petted his hair as his eyes drifted closed.
She started to write her note to him, nudging him gently to read it when she was done.
Do you want to stay there? Or I can pick you up at 11. Be the mean mom?
“You’re not a mean mom,” he mumbled sleepily. Her heart melted a little in her chest. She etched another sentence onto the paper.
No, but you can say I am and won’t let you stay if you don’t want to.
His eyes struggled to focus on the paper, reading the line over and over until he looked up at her.
“I wanna stay… but I’m nervous. I don’t want them to know.” His blue eyes were vulnerable. 
She combed his curls into place around his little round face. Gareth tried so hard to be brave, but he was still just a kid. He was supposed to be worrying about math tests and getting crushes on cute girls and sneaking his first drink. Her son didn’t get a chance to live that life.
How about I call at 10 and ask if you She paused her writing, trying to think of a chore she could ask if he’d finished, cleaned your room before you left? If you say no, I’ll know to come get you. I’ll be the jerk who ends your fun and they don’t have to know.
Gareth nodded slowly as he read. Okay, they could do that. Their secret code to protect him.
“What if I stay and I… I get…” The tears were back, Gareth blinking rapidly to keep them back. Just the thought of waking up to darkness, unable to hear or see, was terrifying.
We’ll pack a flashlight, okay? If you get scared, it’s better to wake your friends up than be scared, honey. They’ll understand.
“I don’t want them to think I’m a baby…” He whimpered. Her heart broke for him.
They won’t think you’re a baby. They care about you, Gareth.
He missed hearing his mom say his name. He missed the way she talked with her voice against the roof of her mouth, the way she pronounced it like there was a Y in it: Gyareth. He missed hearing her say I love you and the way she called him baby and when she’d sing to the radio. He missed not being scared.
She wished Gareth could see how much people around him cared about him and wanted to help him. It wasn’t often that she interacted with his friends, but each time she did, she could see how much they cared. If he woke up scared tonight, she’d bet her grocery budget that Kim would wrap him up in a hug and Jeff would scramble to get the lights and Eddie would ruffle his hair and Kevin would awkwardly pat his shoulder until he calmed down. And she’d bet that they would never, ever mention it again. Those kids loved Gareth.
“Okay.” He sniffed hard and blinked the tears away, slipping his brave face back into place. “I’ll tell them if I need to.”
“I’ll call and tell them you can go, okay?” She rubbed his shoulder as he watched her lips and then nodded. “Gonna sleep a little?”
He nodded again.
“I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”
Gareth was snoring softly by the time she reached the top of the stairs. She looked back over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of his sleeping form. He slept like a puppy—all floppy sprawled limbs, collapsed however he’d landed when he hit the bed. Janet smiled to herself as she closed the door behind her softly.
Eddie’s number was carefully tacked to the corkboard next to the phone, and it had been joined by the rest of his friends’ numbers over the past month. Jan paused, debating which of them to call. Kim had invited him, but she thought Gareth was sweet on her and maybe he wouldn’t appreciate his mom calling to tell her what she was about to say. She didn’t really know Jeff or Kevin, but Eddie… well, Eddie seemed like he’d do anything to protect Gareth. He’d been the one to bring Gareth in. She dialed the number, listening to it ring.
“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” The boy answered, sounding distracted.
“Hi, Eddie, it’s Gareth’s mom,” she greeted him. Always Gareth’s mom.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs. E. Can Gareth come tonight?” 
She liked how Eddie’s bored seventeen-year-old tone always brightened up at the mention of her son.
“Yeah, would you mind passing it on? But uh, Eddie?” She hesitated, feeling torn. She wanted Gareth to have a chance to be normal and have fun at a sleepover with his friends, but she also knew he’d never forgive her if it got back to him that she told his friends this.
“Mm?” Eddie hummed encouragingly. He already knew that she was fighting with herself. “What’s up?”
She decided to just say it. “Gareth’s afraid of the dark because he can’t hear and it freaks him out when he can’t see, either.”
Eddie was quiet for a few seconds. “Is he scared to stay over?”
“He’s… anxious,” she answered, “I just want him to be a kid and have a normal sleepover and get scared shitless by a scary movie and get sick on junk food and get no sleep because you’re all having too much fun, y’know?”
She could hear rustling through the phone as Eddie adjusted his grip. “How do we do that?”
Janet could have cried right there. What angel came down from heaven in the form of Eddie Munson to love her kid and treat him like he was normal?
“Leave some lights on. Like a hall light or something. But be subtle about it, please. He’s a suspicious little smartass, and he—”
“Can’t know you told me. Got it,” Eddie laughed. He was seeing a pattern, where Janet would sneak a little information behind Gareth’s back that he refused to divulge so his friends could be better friends to him. He admired that about her. Wished his own mom had loved him that much. “Anything else?”
“He’s going to try and sleep away from the door.”
“Yeah. We can handle that.” Eddie sounded so serious, like she was tasking him with a mission of life or death.
“Also, I’m gonna send him with the decoder. It’s a box that plugs into a VCR and puts captions on the screen. He knows how to set it up, but he’s going to pretend he doesn’t need it.” Eddie knew what she was talking about, he’d seen the device in the Emersons' living room when he’d been over. Gareth had explained it when he’d asked.
“We’ll make sure it gets plugged in,” Eddie laughed. He liked how stubborn Gareth was about everything, but he wished he’d let them help without fighting.
“Okay. Um, oh! I’m going to call at 10 to check in, but if he needs to come home… will one of you call? No matter how late. He’s not going t—”
“To ask. Yep. We can offer it if he needs it.” He nodded, pacing the short hall of his trailer. He could hear a huff of a laugh over the phone. Never would he’d have thought that he—Eddie “The Freak” Munson—would be conspiring with someone’s mother about a sleepover.
“You’re a wonder, Eddie. Thank you.”
He could feel his face burning. “It’s nothing. We like the little dude. Wish he’d let us help more but… shit, I guess he’ll learn.”
“Shit, I hope so. It’s a pain in the ass to try and sneak around behind his back. So… could you�� let the others know the plan? Tell them however much they need to know, but…”
“Aye aye, Mrs. E.”
She could practically hear him saluting lazily in her direction. They exchanged goodbyes and she hung up the phone with a deep breath. She hoped his friends could keep his secret to themselves.
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Movie night had been a blast. Jeff had made quick work of hooking up the decoder box while Gareth was distracted, so he’d been able to follow along all night. They gorged themselves on popcorn and pizza and candy, playfully fighting for the last of the sour gummies. His mom called at ten o’clock to check in, Jeff scribbling the note that she wanted to ask if Gareth had cleaned his room before he’d left, or if he needed to come home and do it like she’d asked. He told Jeff to tell her he’d cleaned it, so she “let” him stay.
After that call, Eddie’d jerked his head towards the sliding glass doors that let out onto the patio and the others gathered outside, trailing a confused Gareth. It became apparent why they were out there, bracing against the late October chill, when Eddie sparked up and lit a joint to share. Gareth had never smoked before, and the smell made his nose wrinkle. Eddie laughed and reached over his head to pass it to Kevin.
“We’re not getting him stoned, Eddie!” Kim had argued when Eddie did offer the joint to Gareth, "He's fifteen!"
“Better he does it when we can watch him, right?” Eddie laughed, before lowering his voice to a whisper when jeff distracted Gareth, “It’ll help him sleep.”
She didn’t respond and just made a face, so he nudged Gareth and made the sign for want while holding out the slowly smoldering thing. 
“I’ve never smoked…” He admitted hesitantly.
You don’t have to if you don’t want to Kim scribbled. Out of all of them, she was the only one with the sense to bring the chalkboard with them.
“I just don’t know how.”
Grudgingly, Kim transcribed what Eddie dictated: Inhale slow, exhale slow, don’t hold it. Eddie was right that it was better for him to experiment here.
Gareth held out his hand for the joint, which was burned down to about the last hit. He did as he was told, and found himself bent over and coughing as Eddie patted his back. That sucked.
It sucked a whole lot less after it hit him a moment later when they’d all trooped back inside. Sleepy and snuggly, Gareth was happy to let Kim tousle his hair as they put the next movie on, and happier still when she let him curl up on the couch beside her with his head in her lap. When the other boys protested, she shot back that Gareth was the only one who didn’t have—or at least didn’t act like he had—a raging crush on her, to which he agreed in a sleepy mumble that no one believed. 
When it came time for bed, though, the high had worn off and Gareth could feel his anxiety building. The five of them wouldn’t fit in Jeff’s room, so they took over the living room, pushing the coffee table aside and drawing the blinds closed over the sliding door when Kevin noticed Gareth eyeing it. Jeff flipped on the light in the hall leading to the bathroom (“So y’don’t trip over each other in the middle of the night.”). 
The boys were spreading out on the floor while Kim claimed the couch—which none of them argued with—and everyone nonchalantly left the spot on the floor in front of the couch open so Gareth could set up there. That way, he was surrounded by his friends. After the rest of the lights had been clicked off, Gareth felt a hand reach down from the couch to pet his hair, and he found himself nodding off under Kim’s soft touches.
When he did jerk awake with a gasp in the middle of the night, panic overwhelming him as he tried to remember where he was, he realized he could see. In the soft light from the hall, he watched one of the bodies in a sleeping bag roll over, inky, fluffy curls frizzed around their head like a halo when they lifted it. Eddie held up a thumbs up, silhouetted against the light. You good? Gareth swallowed hard and nodded, whispering a small yeah. Eddie’s figure lowered his head, and Gareth took it as a cue to curl back up himself. He did, pressing his back to the couch, and once more Kim’s fingers quietly tangled in his curls.
He didn’t wake up until Jeff nudged him awake in the morning because breakfast was ready. When it was Gareth’s turn for the bathroom, Eddie quietly congratulated the rest of the group on their part in pulling this off, since Gareth wouldn't quit grinning.
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Fall seemed to fly past once Gareth was brought into the fold. They formally made the D&D group into an official school club—which they called Hellfire Club to soothe Eddie’s upset sensibilities—and they had a standing slot in the drama department’s storage room every Friday afternoon. All the parents were secretly relieved to get out of hosting the gang’s get-togethers.
Eddie gifted Gareth a flannel cut-off he claimed didn’t fit anymore (as if anyone with eyes couldn’t see that Gareth’s stocky figure was broader than Eddie’s, even if he was shorter), and had stuck an old Van Halen button on one of the pockets before he passed it on. After that, Gareth was rarely seen without it and added a few of his old pins from before to the vest. It felt like silent permission to still love music, to still embrace that as his identity, even though he couldn’t really listen to it anymore. 
He did listen to music a lot more now, actually. No matter who he was hanging out with, someone always had a tape on and he could catch strains when it got quiet and he was close enough to the speaker. He started to learn all his friends’ tastes.
Eddie liked the Big Four of thrash—Metallica, Slayer, Megadeth, and Anthrax—but Dio was his all-time favorite. Kevin was also into Metallica, but Iron Maiden, Motorhead, and Judas Priest were his favorites. Jeff was a big Black Sabbath fan but liked other hard rock acts like Kiss, The Who, and AC/DC. Mickey stuck out as a hippie with a fervent love of Zeppelin, CSNY, and the Beatles. Joe liked Guns ‘n Roses, Van Halen, and Quiet Riot. Vic listened to weird foreign metal bands like Death SS or near-pop acts like Bon Jovi. Guillermo liked it all but leaned more into punk music. Kim liked black metal most, including Mercyful Fate and Bathory—but she also introduced Gareth to Pat Benatar, Joan Jett, and Girlschool, because it was her opinion that he shouldn’t just listen to dudes.
He hit a growth spurt and shot up like a weed, but not without getting even clumsier until he got used to his body again. He was disappointed that getting taller hadn’t done much to change the soft layer of pudge that padded his body all over. So when his mom took him shopping to replace the clothes he was rapidly outgrowing, he picked things that fit loosely and he could layer up until he felt hidden. No longer was he the shortest member of Hellfire, though, and he did enjoy that.
His friends pleaded with his mom to let them take him to a Halloween party one of the band kids throws every year (“We promise we’ll look after him. Won’t let him get into anything. Please?”) and she crumbled and agreed because its hard to say no when they’re all so eager to have him there (“It won’t be the same without him!”). To his embarrassment, he got stuffed into a closet with Kim for a round of Seven Minutes in Heaven, during which he admitted he’d never kissed anyone. 
She laughed softly and told him it was okay, he was just fifteen, there wasn’t a reason to rush. She ended up giving him his first kiss there when he agreed to it, a chaste little one just so he could say he’d done it and get the first-time nerves out of the way. He felt like he should be swooning that Kim, the entire club’s dream girl, just kissed him, but he didn’t feel anything. He chalked it up to nerves and that Kim was kind of an older sister to him.
At winter break, the audiologist happily told Mrs. Emerson that Gareth scored higher on his hearing test than he had at the start of the school year—fifty-six percent now, instead of forty—so he was improving. There was a good chance he’d recover enough by graduation that he could live a pretty normal life. Gareth didn’t feel like he’d noticed a difference, but the doctor said it was normal because it was so gradual. He still had to be careful to protect his ears from loud noises, though—even if he couldn’t hear them, they could cause damage and stop the healing.
Which meant when he was invited to jam sessions with Eddie, Kevin, and Jeff (they didn’t call it band practice anymore because their drummer had moved away), Gareth stuffed earplugs in his ears and muffled the noise back down to almost nothing. But he could still feel it, perched on top of an amp or leaning against a cabinet speaker, he could feel it. It felt like heaven, the bass reverberating in his chest and making his heart feel like it was stuttering. Soon, there wasn’t a single session that he wasn’t also in attendance, pressed against an amplifier to enjoy the way music felt. Which is exactly what Eddie had wanted, because he, Jeff, and Kev were concocting a scheme to get Gareth back behind his kit.
It started during winter break—Eddie’d written something new, and they hadn’t gotten a drum part down because they didn’t have a drummer, and he’d sweetly asked if Gareth had any advice to give him about figuring one out. Eddie wasn’t unfamiliar with drums, but he was a guitarist and he was kind of limited to just grooving with the beat. Maybe the sophomore had a cool technique or fill he’d share?
It worked like a charm. Uncertainly, Gareth had Eddie play the piece for him, making him repeat it over and over as he took notes. Eddie caught a glimpse and realized that Gareth was loosely transcribing it into musical notation as best he could. It was messy and missing notes, but the basics were there. He’d said he’d think about it and let him know if he figured anything out. 
A week later, he handed Eddie a tape, mumbling that he’d fucked around a little that weekend and recorded what he came up with. Eddie listened to it when he got home. It took him a minute to realize what the soft ticking was at the start of the track before Gareth counted in. About the third listen, he realized it was a metronome. Kid had gone and figured out the right BPM and used a metronome like an actual pro. Well, no—a pro would have used a click-track, but it was the same thing. He bet Gareth used the metronome because he could see it.
The drumming was… well, it was rough in the kind of way something is when someone is a little rusty, but it wasn’t bad by any stretch, especially when Eddie realized Gareth probably had done this with earplugs in and working by feel. The technique was there. The understanding of tempo and when to use a fill and when to hold back and let the song take a breath was there. The syncopation was there. He had a good little polyrhythm playing between the bass, high hat, and snare, lending interest to the groove he picked up during what Eddie recognized as the verse. Gareth had never said much about his drumming, whether he was any good, whether he had a specific style, whether he’d been playing for a while, but Eddie was pleased with the results.
Eddie played the tape five more times before he called Kevin and told him to meet him at Jeff’s because they had to hear this. They only believed Eddie that it was Gareth on the tape when they heard the soft “Well, shit… here it goes.” between the track starting and when it counted in, clearly in his little halfway off-key voice. 
“Well, John Bonham he’s not,” Jeff mused, “But he’s been what, eight, nine months without playing?”
Eddie gave his shoulder a shove. Gareth wasn’t John Bonham, but Jeff wasn’t Randy Rhoads, either. “He’s good! He can’t hear, for chrissakes.”
“So… do we have a drummer again?” Kevin asked, breaking up the playful squabble brewing. 
“I think we have a drummer again.” Eddie grinned.
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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years
Text
Not Your Captain
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader
Word Count: 1695
Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing
A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded!  Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)
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AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!
The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.
You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.
You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.
Someone you would never tell.
He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.
You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.
You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.
He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.
His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum. 
You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.
The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.
He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead. 
Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.
Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.
“Buck?”
He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.
“Have you seen the news recently?”
His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”
You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”
He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.
“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”
“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”
Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”
You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.
You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”
The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.
“Are you?”
You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”
“Going to meet with him?”
“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”
“Why…” 
Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”
He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”
“What?”
“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”
“He did give it to them, but-”
“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”
You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”
“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”
Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”
Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.
You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.
Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.
“Stay with me. I need you.”
You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”
Taglist (OPEN):
@happygoreading​, @thatsdarwinism​, @satellitespidey​
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goldengoddess · 3 years
Note
hi i have a kaz x reader request!! can you do one where kaz proposes to the reader?? that seems so cute tbh
will you marry me - kaz brekker
pairing: kaz brekker x reader
a/n: i listened to helpless from the hamilton musical while writing this so do with that what you will,,,, kaz would definitely do this just so u know (idk if kaz would consider marrige but if he did this is how it would go)
warnings: nothing ?? proposals ? kaz it a tiny bit more touchy :)
kaz brekker was not one for romantic gestures, frankly he it quite the opposite. every confession of love was silent, hidden, usually given in the privacy of his room.
but he knew you.
and he knew that proposals were meant to be romantic gestures. they were meant to represent the start of a different era of love. he’d heard you tell nina about a hundred times how romantic your parents proposal had been. he’d seen the dreamy look in your eyes the time a public proposal had happened in front of the two of you.
so he was dead set on making sure his proposal to you was everything you wanted it to be. and if there was one thing dirty hands was good at, it was making a solid plan. and a couple solid back up plans.
so he was very annoyed to see your annoyed face on the morning he was going to propose to you. 
you grumbled as you walked across the room to the kitchen where you could finally get some coffee. over her own mug, nina chuckled at your state. “looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” she giggled and took a sip of what was probably hot chocolate. 
you mumbled a quick ‘fuck you’ and made your way closer to kaz. you quickly planted a good morning kiss on his cheek like you always did. it was part of your routine, that way he knew it was coming and was never surprised or taken aback by the act. your grumpy mood chipped away a little at the way that kaz’s lips quirked upwards as you pulled away. 
you shuffled over to the coffee pitcher just as jesper made his way into the room. he was humming something under his breath and you leaned your head closer so you could listen.
you furrowed your brows in confusion, “jesper? why are you humming the wedding song?”
he stopped in his tracks and shared a quick look with nina and then kaz. he turned to you and grinned, “no reason! just in a good mood, excited for our job later today.”
you huffed and shook your head, “at least one of us is.”
the rest of the day went by the way they always do before a big heist: slowly. it consisted of jesper running around the slat pumped up with too much adrenaline. inej taking out all of her smaller knives from their hiding spots (who knew she kept three under the couch cushions) and strapping them to her sides. wylan drawing out the outline of the mercher house one more time. matthias grumbling about the legality and necessity of what they were doing. nina sitting on his lap so he would shut up. 
and kaz, your sweet kaz, going over the plan in his head while observing you. 
later on, as you were all in your respective positions for the job, you couldn’t help but wonder why kaz had paired the two of you together. when the two of you had started dating, he had told you that he couldn’t trust his own instincts around you. and for that reason, you were always paired with another crow and he usually worked with jesper of inej. but not tonight. 
“kaz?” you questioned, “why are you and i working together tonight?”
you didn’t notice the way his hands hesitated on the lock that he was currently trying to pick. he turned to you and your breath caught in your throat, like you were seeing him for the first time again. it was midnight, there was little light anywhere. but somehow the moonlight illuminated kaz’s face perfectly. he looked beautiful. 
he shrugged and went back to his lock, “just thought it could be interesting to switch things up. this job is simple enough, nothing will go wrong.”
his words set you off slightly. your kaz would never take a chance like that. it wasn’t his style. kaz tended to ignore the odds, but never when it came to you. he’d promised a long time ago to not let his own grudges or greed put you in harms way. what was different about tonight?
before you could ask him, the lock clicked open and kaz swung the door to the hallway open. he extended his arm in invitation, “after you.”
you narrowed your eyes at him but stepped into the room. you took a deep breath and felt yourself relax at the oddly familiar scent of roses. you scanned the room and felt a smile slip into your face at the sight of yellow roses. waking closer to them, you ghosted your hands over the petals. 
you looked over at kaz with a small smile, and found he was already smiling at you. “your favorite flower” he said, stepping right next to you. 
you nodded your head in awe, you hadn’t seen yellow roses in a very long time. kaz dipped his hand into the vase and snapped the step of one of the flowers. he turned to you and handed you a single rose. you grinned and took the flower from him, tucking it gently into your backpack. “thank you honey” you giggled and then quietly moved down the hall. 
kaz stopped you in front of a room with a golden and elaborately decorated door. he motioned for you to open the door and you nodded your head, following his instruction. when you walked in the room was practically empty. the only thing inside was a glass case at the center of the room. you tip toed closer and found a tiny jewelry box. you slowly opened the glass casing and grabbed the small jewelry box, assuming this was the ‘big prize’ kaz had claimed they would find during this job. 
“open it” you heard kaz say from behind you. 
so without looking at him, you opened the tiny black box. what was inside, took the air out of your lungs. it was a tiny silver ring with a shiny black stone at the center. without realizing, you let out a little gasp. 
you started turning your body to face kaz, “kaz what is-”
but before you could say anything you found kaz kneeling on one knee, firmly holding onto his cane for the balance. you let out yet another gasp and nearly dropped the likely expensive ring in your hand. 
“angel” he started speaking
“kaz,” you interrupted him breathlessly, “what are you doing?”
he gave you his favorite mischievous smile, the smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes but shined playfully in his eyes. “i’m doing my best to propose darling.”
another gasp on your part. 
he chuckled, “i have spent a lot of my life closing off my heart. making it impossible to reach. but then you came along and broke down my walls brick by brick. and impossibly, my heart became yours forever. so i thought it was only appropriate to put a much deserved ring on your finger. so, what do you say angel? will you marry me?”
you let out a small sniffle, happy tears falling down your cheeks. “yes! i want to marry you, i do!” you laughed happily and rushed over to kaz.
you helped him to his feet and he smiled, “excited are we? you’re not supposed to say ‘i do’ just yet darling.”
you lightly punched his shoulder. you moved your eyes to his lips and then back to his eyes, asking for permission. his grin and the quick nod of his head told you everything and you surged forward to kiss him. 
after a few seconds you pulled back and you know that you’ve never smiled as brightly as you are in that moment, “you never fail to surprise me brekker. can’t believe you pulled off a fake heist just for me.”
“i’d do anything for you” he answered quickly. 
“even marry me?”
“especially marry you.” 
taglist;
@vintagebitc @obiwansjedi @thegirlwiththeimpala @hybrid-in-progress @mrs-brekker15 @mrsbrekkers @simplyluvzuko @ode-to-joy @gallysonegoodlung @sixofshadowandbone @castielcouldbeasecretdentist @meiitanoia @caaarstairs @itisroe @the-jess-life @xsamsharons @heavenlymidnight @wtfrae @dreamer-writer-fangirl @bookishcrows @tulipsxbooks @thehighladyofday @seven-halfbloods
if your name is in bold it means i couldn’t tag you!
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clairecrive · 3 years
Text
"Bookish talks"- Billy Russo x reader
A/n: again, not requested but the idea popped into my mind after reading @faulty-coding piece. (I think)
Warnings: a bit of angst, misunderstandings but fluffy ending
Word count: 1.5k +
Tagging: @thefictionalgemini , @tarkanelima-blog , @pansysgirlfriend , @acciorudolphx (if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist by filling this form)
My masterlists are here.
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"Yeah, she's been going on and on about this book. I've got five more minutes to go."
Well, the things you find out when you turn up where you're not supposed to be.
To be fair, you didn't mean to eavesdrop. When you got out that morning you had forgotten to take your wallet. Here explained why you had returned not even ten minutes from where you first walked out. You didn't even think that Billy would be still at home, so you didn't bother with announcing yourself.
And look what a surprise you were met with.
Taking your wallet, you hurried out of Billy's apartment set on not hearing anymore.
*+* *+* *+*
The day passed as it normally would. You had pushed back Billy's words in your mind because you had work to do. It wouldn't be smart to unpack what it meant so early in the morning when you had so much to do.
You weren't mad per se. You were rather hurt that he had never told you that he didn't enjoy your talks about the latest book you were reading. So yeah, let's add "stupid and guilty" under your current mood. You didn't want to put Billy in a position where he had to bear with something he didn't like. But how were you meant to know if he didn't talk to you?
This is not the moment, you reprimanded yourself with a shake of your head.
Coherent with your routine though, at six, Billy's call came. Of course, he acted normally, nothing had happened for him, after all.
"So, you coming around tonight?"
"Nope, book club meeting tonight."
"Oh, right. Was kinda hoping you'd ditch them."
"They're my outlet for my book nerdiness, Billy. Wouldn't want to annoy anyone with my craze over books."
"Who said you do?"
"You did."
It wasn't your intention to confront him on the matter over the phone. It was an instant reaction.
Billy didn't gasp but the silence you were met with was more than enough to show you that he'd been taken aback.
"Y/n-"
"It's okay, Billy. I don't mind if you don't like listening to me talking about books. I just wish you would have told me. I wouldn't be feeling so stupid and guilty for all the time I've made you waste now if you had."
"You didn't waste my time."
From that moment, things between you had Billy went back to normal. Sort of. He hadn't confronted you on the matter anymore and of course, you wouldn't bring it back up. So you settled in your usual routine, without of course any mention of books.
"Mh," looking at the clock on your desk you noticed that if you only have half an hour to finish your last assignment and before you need to leave, " I've got to go now, Billy. I'll talk to you soon." You ended the call without waiting for a response.
*+* *+* *+*
You were currently on Billy's sofa, leaning on him while you watched a documentary on Ancient Rome. It was interesting and it made you think about a book you had read on the subject a while ago. You opened your mouth to share your thoughts with Billy but a flashback of his words stopped you.
What if he hated it when you did that too?
"You're awfully quiet tonight." His voice startled you from your thoughts.
"A bit tired."
"Haven't got any anecdotes for me tonight?"
"Nope."
Your eyes didn't leave the tv screen. Yes, the documentary was interesting but you also didn't want Billy to know that you were lying. He had the uncanny ability of sensing whenever you weren't being genuine.
Out of the blue, the documentary stopped and the sound of the control hitting the coffee table told you that it was Billy who had paused it.
His hands grabbed your arms and pulled you away from him so that he could look you in the eyes.
"You're holding back."
"You're holding me back." Was your witty yet unnecessary reply. Billy's jaw clenched but the grip on your arms didn't tighten.
"Is this about the book thing?"
"We're watching a documentary, Billy. Why would it be about the book thing?"
"You always have something to say when we watch this stuff. Something you've read somewhere, some time ago." He explained, quoting you.
"I don't want you to feel like you can't tell me stuff," he added more softly when you didn't speak.
"Oh, I know I can. You just bitch about it with your friends whenever I do though."
His eyes squinted lightly, if his hands weren't on you, you probably would have missed how his shoulders tensed too.
"So it is about the book thing," he murmured releasing your arms.
"Well, Billy, you've basically fallen under the category of the white man who complains about how annoying his girlfriend is to his friends."
"I've not said you're annoying."
"You might as well have," you huffed crossing your arms, turning away from him.
"I know I sounded like an asshole but that's not what I meant. I really don't mind when you go off for ten minutes on some book you're reading."
"Spare me the bullshit, Billy. You don't have to lie to not hurt my feelings. It's too late for that anyway."
"I'm not lying." he insisted offended by your accusation but you didn't bother responding to him.
Billy sighed, one of his hands wiped over his face as he, no doubt, was trying to think of how to make this right. But maybe it was your time to speak.
"I realise that me sharing every thought or little thing that happens can be overwhelming." Fiddling with the fingers of your hands, you tried to find the right words.
"When me and Karen chose our university major, I was sure that our friendship was going to end. It happens, you take different paths and suddenly you go from best friends t someone you say hi to whenever you meet them around." You stopped to look at him. Bily's eyes were solely focused on you, so you continued.
"To avoid that, we developed a sort of routine where we would tell each other about our days, what we did, the things that happened, people we had met and stuff like that. We'd usually met once a week if not more often and this way we managed to strengthen our relationship and here we are after ten years, still best friends."
"Even if we went our separate ways, neither of us felt left out or behind from the other's life. I knew her friends even if I hadn't met them and since she told me everything I felt like I was as part of her life as I was when we shared every class together."
"I'm a rather introverted and reserved person, Billy. I'm sure you gathered that by now. I guess sharing this kind of things, books I read, things I do and stuff is my way of making you an active presence in my life. Because I care about you and I wouldn't want you to feel left out. Also because I don't feel the need to filter myself around you." A pause. "Well, did."
During your soliloquy, you didn't meet Billy's eyes. It felt deeply personal to share this with him but you hoped it would help him understand. Not necessarily make him enjoy your bookish talk but to make him at least not think of you as annoying.
Billy didn't speak. He had let you have your moment because it was clear that there were things you had been keeping to yourself. You hadn't been dating for long, only a couple of months, so you were still getting to know each other.
Yes, Billy wasn't exactly a bibliophile but he enjoyed the thought of being someone you trusted so much to the point where you're not afraid of opening up.
He really wanted to kick himself for having ruined that. For making you feel like a burden.
Leaning towards you, he gently turned your face to him.
"What you've heard the other day was me explaining to Frankie what I was doing." His voice was soft as if he was afraid that he'd ruin the intimate atmosphere by speaking louder.
"I was listening to your message about that book and yes, it was seven minutes long and yes, you were going on and on about a character's motives and his psychology but I didn't mean to imply it was annoying." His eyes flickered between yours and he seemed truthful enough but you were still hesitant.
"It's okay if you don't enjoy it, Billy. My father hates whenever I do that but that doesn't mean that he loves me any less." You offered him another way out.
"Well, I guess this is why you told me you're not looking for a man like your father."
"Are we good?" He murmured, eyes flickering between yours. You nodded leaning into his touch.
"Trust me, you're nothing like my father." you chuckled, accepting his words for what you knew knew they implied.
Smiling at you, Billy's hands reaching to cup your cheeks.
"Do you promise to talk to me if there's something wrong?" You asked him, needing the reassurance.
"Don't I always talk your ears off when you leave your stuff hanging around?" True enough but you needed him to say it.
"I promise." He conceded, nose bumping into yours before kissing you softly.
"So, got any fun fact to share?" He asked you again, pointing to the tv with his head.
"I've got a few, yes." You shily smiled at him.
"Hit me." Leaning back on the sofa, he got comfortable as he encouraged you to speak.
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junhuiste · 3 years
Text
stress relief. (excerpt 2)
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a/n: just publishing another excerpt bc i feel bad bc i’m far from finishing this! also if u haven’t yet let me know if you wanna be part of the taglist
pairing: sunghoon x fem!reader
tags/warnings: smut (first time writer um…) so minors dni, college au, angst, fluff, friends with benefits to lovers, mentions of mental health and sexuality
word count: this excerpt is 800 but kinda aiming for over 10k
current taglist: @dreamilyjake @itsthe-neo-zone @dudejuststop @jungwonseyebrowsonflick @woniebae @kiillmeee @nyfwyeonjun @enhyptxt @woonieiv
stress management is a billion dollar industry, but sunghoon wants to resort to other, affordable relieving options. you think you could help him. the thing is, overwhelming love isn’t relief.
After what seems like three missed calls you finally pick it up, irritatedly so. However, the phone flashes Park Sunghoon’s name, screaming at and urging and begging on its knees and on the verge of throwing up for you to make a move. Of course there’s no hesitation to answer on your part because you just had to be at his beck and call.
“And what lovely favor can I do for my lovely friend at this lovely hour?”
“Hi…I’ll be at your place in nine minutes. Wait, make that seven since it’s cold as fuck and I’m freezing my ass off so I’ll have to run,” it comes out in hurried breaths and it dawns on you that dear god he really is running almost 10 minutes just to see you. Not in that way of course, for his own bemusement and non-romantic super high sex drive, obviously, but still.
“You couldn’t just solve it with a little game of self tug-of-war?” As much as you try to sound annoyed you just cannot contain your excitement that Sunghoon needs a quick fuck in the middle of the night.
It’s not annoyance at him per se, but more so sheer annoyance at yourself for feeling this way because of your unspoken (yet totally consensual) contract. Was it the fact that you knew you’d be having sex with some Apollo that walked among mortals…just sex right? It doesn’t reek of desperation…it really doesn’t…it’s just uncontrollable libido.
Definitely not the fact that you’ve possessed this outpouring—what was the word? Because it’s definitely not love. At least not for now—infatuation for this person you’ve all but had a conversation and a half with. Throw in some lingering smiles here and there. None of those count, sadly.
Your core said otherwise.
Instead of clicking and clacking away at the keyboard because there are still a whopping 950 words to power through, your body lay sprawled across your bed, anticipating when your special friend would arrive. You wonder if the two of you would actually score a home run tonight or if you’d just stay stuck between the batter’s plate and first base again. If you could dodge and slide to third base that would be more than enough. Anything was fine really; he could kiss you and leave and that would suffice. Whatever got the touchdown. The slam dunk. The ace.
The buzz invades your thoughts again and this time you don’t even pick your phone up and bolt a little too quickly for your liking to your door to let him in. Yeah, you are down terrible, if that wasn’t evident enough.
You’re nearly bouncing when your hand turns the doorknob and the sight of Sunghoon makes the ecstasy surge through your veins at an unprecedented rate. He’s had his tongue down your throat and soft hands roam your body before but this happening during some ungodly hour while there were a billion other tasks for you to complete had you thrilled, heart rate fluctuating unhealthily.
Sunghoon’s leaning against the door frame nonchalantly, whether he did that intentionally or out of habit was something you had to query about, but not now. Not when his raven hair is all tousled underneath his hoodie, dark eyes reading of pure exhaustion yet signaling they wanted your lips on his.
The bastard has the audacity to bat his eyelashes at you, flaunting a lazy smile, and invites himself in, past the threshold, footsteps towards you, cupping his velvety hand around your cheek. Sunghoon presses his lips to yours so sloppily you almost moan right then and there. For a second you think about pulling away but his tongue is in your mouth and you can hear the reverberations of this lip lock so clearly it feels too good to separate your mouths. And for what seems like minutes you’re exchanging open mouthed kisses while his hand trails below the small of your back further and further.
“So…what brings you here,” you finally pull away from the kiss that has your chest heaving and turn your head to the nearest clock in your apartment, “at 1:21 AM?”
Sunghoon leans in with his lips grazing the shell of your ear, “kinda need you,” his hands bring themselves to grab your ass, “well…little Sunghoon needs you.”
Suddenly your face feels hot and the room is spinning.
It’s embarrassingly easy to get quite flustered around Park Sunghoon, but when he indicates that he wants to be inside of you, you’re struck with a noticeable feverishness that sends goosebumps all over you.
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drabbles-mc · 3 years
Text
Sorry For What?
Happy Lowman x F!Reader
Request from Anon: So if I may request one with happy; slightly angsty, him and reader are fighting, he’s getting turned on, she’s getting angry and he thinks there’s gonna be hate/ fight sex but she’s not having it and pushes him away. Tells him sex won’t solve things this time and banishes him to the couch. Happy sulking, apologizing and fluff ending. 😊
Warnings: language, angst, Happy being stubborn and emotionally illiterate
Word Count: 1.4k
A/N: Happy thinking he can use sex to get out of an argument is totally a thing lmao
Join my group-chat here: (X) ​
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“That’s not my fault!” you hated yelling but your patience had long since run out, “It’s not my fucking job to be there at your every beck and call.”
Happy stepped in closer to you, his voice wasn’t loud but his tone was sharp enough to cut you like a knife, “You’re supposed to be my old lady. You get what that means? Means you’re supposed to fuckin—”
“Stop!” you cut him off, shaking your head, “Don’t give me that shit. I’m not your servant, I’m not your maid, I’m not your fucking mother. I’m my own person,” you pressed your hand to his chest, “I choose to share my life with you. As a partner. I might be your old lady but you don’t fucking own me, Happy.”
“If you don’t wanna be there, then why are we doing this?” he motioned back and forth between the two of you.
You leaned back, eyes narrowing, “Is that what you got from what I just said?” you shook your head, “Look. I know how the other guys speak to and treat their women. And if they’re all alright with that then…fine. But that’s not me. And you knew that from the jump. I have my own shit going on and I can’t just sit at home all the time and wait for you to need something from me so I can feel like I have a fucking sense of purpose. You’re an important part of my life, Hap, but you’re not the whole thing. Same way I’m not yours.”
“I needed you.”
“And I couldn’t make it!” you snapped, “And I know that sucks. But don’t pretend that the roles haven’t ever been reversed. Why do you get a fucking pass on that, huh?”
He erased what little distance was left between the two of you. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of his body the angrier he got. His eyes bore into yours, “Because if I step away someone gets fucking shot.”
You nodded, “And that’s the life that you chose. It’s not a blanket excuse for every time you fuck up, though.”
“Why do you stick around then?”
“Because I love you!” you fought the urge to shove him in the chest, “Even when you’re being an asshole!”
You took a breath, trying to get yourself together. You weren’t used to yelling so much. It wasn’t often that you were this pissed off—your fights with Happy were usually small and over quickly. But this time it hit the wrong nerve with you and you needed to allow your blood to boil for a little bit. Sometimes he forgot that you had a temper too—yours just didn’t make you kill people.
Happy reached forward to cup your face in his hand, his other gripping onto your hip to pull you closer. He was about to lean in and kiss you but you pushed him away, “Stop.” You saw the confused look on his face and shook your head, “Sex is not on the table for you right now. This argument isn’t over.”
“Yea, I was trying to end it.”
You laughed, unable to do much else. You looked up at him, “Have you heard anything that I’ve fucking said, Happy?” the silence that followed spoke volumes, “You’re fucking unbelievable sometimes!”
“I never said you had to be done being mad at me.”
You raised your eyebrows, “Trust me. You don’t want me anywhere near your dick right now. Won’t end well for you.”
You turned and went to walk away but he reached forward and grabbed your arm, pulling you back towards him. You twisted your arm hard to get it out of his grasp and the look of shock on his face was priceless. He really thought that he was getting out of this argument with you with sex. Not that that hadn’t been an effective tactic in the past, but you were too pissed for that to be a viable solution now.
“And for that you can sleep on the fucking couch tonight,” you snapped.
“Y/N…” there was a hint of warning in his voice.
You didn’t say anything in response. Instead, you opted to walk away towards your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind you to really drive the point home. It only took a few moments for you to be able to hear the sound of the television filling the house. Happy might’ve been stubborn but at least he knew well enough to give you some time to cool off before he came and tried to talk to you again. Hopefully this time around he’d realize he was actually going to have to talk.
You’d lost track of how long you had been laid up in bed. You had your headphones in, a mellow playlist on while you read your book. Your anger had mostly subsided for the time being, allowing you to focus on something other than the fact that you had been this close to telling Happy he could sleep at the clubhouse for the night.
There was a faint noise that was coming in over the music you were listening to. You took one headphone out and realized it was the sound of Happy knocking on the bedroom door. You sighed as you set your phone and book off to the side.
“Yea?”
He slowly opened the door and poked his head inside. His expression was neutral, like it almost always was, “I don’t wanna sleep on the couch.”
You arched one eyebrow, “Tough shit.”
He walked completely into the room, “C’mon, don’t be like that.”
“Like what? I’m allowed to be mad at you, Happy.”
“I don’t want you to be.”
“Well,” you shrugged, “I am.”
There were a few beats of silence before he finally spoke up again, clearly trying to choose his words carefully, “I’m sorry.”
You had to admit that you were impressed. Blatant apologies like that were never his strong suit. Still, you pressed him for more, “For?”
“For making you mad.”                                                    
You chuckled—it wasn’t an inaccurate apology. As much as you wanted to stay mad you found yourself smiling a little bit, “You really don’t wanna sleep on the couch, huh?”
He shook his head, “No.”
You sighed but gestured for him to come closer. When he reached the side of your bed you motioned for him to stop before getting in, “No more trying to use sex to get out of tough conversations, Hap,” you saw the disbelieving look on his face, “I’m serious!”
“What’s considered tough?”
You laughed, resting your head back against the headboard, “If me being pissed off was put to a scale of one to ten, if I’m above a…five? No using sex to get out of conversations.”
“Five?”
“Listen, I was easily at least at a seven tonight. You’re lucky you came away unscathed.”
“Do I get to sleep in here with you tonight?”
“I’m still mad. You don’t get to just talk to me like that. That’s not what we do here,” you gestured between the two of you.
He wasn’t always the best at expressing himself verbally, but you could see it in his eyes that he knew that he struck a very raw nerve with you. “I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll do better.”
You nodded, “Good,” only then did you pat the spot on the bed next to you, “Come on, then. Get in here and stop looking at me with those sad angry eyes.”
He let a smile cross his face for a moment as he stripped down to his boxers and crawled into bed beside you. He shimmied down and let his face come level with yours. You reached out, gently running your fingertips along the stubble that coated his face. You could tell from the tension in his body that he was fighting the urge to reach out and touch you.
You let out a chuckle at his hesitancy, “Does Happy Lowman want to…cuddle?”
“Shut up.”
Your chuckle shifted into a genuine laugh, “Are you nervous to cuddle with me?”
“You said—”
“I know,” you patted his chest lightly, “I know. Come here,” you rested your hand on the back of his neck and pulled him close to you, pressing a light kiss to his lips, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Even when I’m mad at you.”
The remark got him to smile. He rested his forehead against yours and let his arms snake around your waist. Heat bled over from his skin into yours and you felt yourself melting into him despite the fact that you had been ready to kick him out not too long before.
“So you’re set on five?” he mumbled.
You laughed, nodding, “Yea. Don’t push your luck about it.”
He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Fine.”
513 notes · View notes
make-me-imagine · 3 years
Text
Daffodils: New Beginnings
Valentines Special: Day Eight
Day One: Morning Glories  //  Day Two: Blue Salvias Day Three: Sunflowers  //  Day Four: Pink Camellias Day Five: Yellow Tulips   //  Day Six: Violets Day Seven: Lisianthus - Day Nine: Red Roses (link to post with all endings listed)
Plot: The reader keeps receiving flowers and sweet messages every day from an anonymous source leading up to Valentines Day. But who is sending them?
Choose your own character ending (coming on Valentines Day).
Gender!Neutral Reader x ???
Triggers: Brief mention of fighting        Words: 1,569
Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney​​​, @thebookbakery​​​, @groovyfluxie​​ Requested Taglist: @spuffyfan394​​​, @gaitwae​​​, @fablesrose​​​, @kitkatd7​​​, @thefallenbibliophilequote​​​, @beksib​​​, @destynelseclipsa​​​, @criminaly-supernatural​​​, @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet, @belloangelus​​​, @snarky--starky​​​, @saintbootlegloras​​​, @wecallhimbrowneyess​​​, @empath-bunny​​​, @okkulta​​​, @katinthemoon,  @ravennight41​​​, @youcancallme-rae , @radhumandragonclam, @unfortunateidiotinadilemma, @past3l-w1ngs​​​  , @anonymous-pls-dont-click​​​ , @username23345​​​, @hulkswitch​​​, @theofficialzivadavid​​​, @lainphotography​​​, @fred-deeks-ben​​​, @normanijauregui​​​, @goinggoinggonzo​​, @mxxnmocha​​, @euphouriaszn2​​, @trikruismybitch​, 
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February 13th
"You sure you’re alright?” Wanda asked as she watched your rub your shoulder. 
“I’m good, just a little sore.” you said reassuringly. 
You had been called out on a mission with Steve, Wanda, and Natasha to check out a possible hit on a SHIELD office. You managed to catch the assault team before they made it into the building, but a fight broke out. When you were fighting one of the men, he pulled you down a short flight of stairs, you banged your shoulder pretty bad, but it seemed to be alright now. 
You were riding back to the tower now, sitting in the back seat with Wanda.
“You should get your shoulder checked out when we get back, just in case.” Steve said, looking at your through the drivers mirror. 
“Is that an order Captain?” you asked with sarcasm as you leaned forward, talking to Steve over the seat. 
You could see him smirk at your question as he peaked back at you “If it has to be, then yes.” 
You smiled in amusement as you sat back in your seat “Yes sir” you said, saluting, making Wanda chuckle and Natasha and Steve smirk at your response. 
Doing just as he said, you had your shoulder scanned in the medical wing once you returned. But finding no real damage you went back to work. Entering into the large main room, you staggered back as a man carrying a large box passed by you when you came through the doors. Looking around you saw a bunch of people walking around. It took you a moment before you remembered that they were the people hired to set up the Valentines party.
This room was going to be the main room for the party, tables set up for the dinner and a stage in the front for the entertainment. Seeing through the large doors to your left, you figured that would be where the dancing would take place. 
Looking around, you could tell the color scheme was going to be gold and red, classy, but a bit gaudy in some areas. You saw Tony walk through nearby doors, explaining something to one of the decorators, turning, he spotted you. Leaving the decorator with a last instruction he walked over to you. 
“So, what do you think so far?” he asked as he stood next to you, motioning to the room. 
“No chocolate fountain?” you asked with sarcasm. 
You saw his eyes light up as he snapped his finger “A chocolate fountain!” Turning to one of the nearby people, he got their attention “Any chance of getting a chocolate fountain?” 
You rolled your eyes “Tony, that’s too much!”
“No no, it’s a good idea” he said to you before looking back to the other person who began writing something down “And get some skewers, fruit and marshmallows, it can be like a giant fondue station.” 
“That doesn’t sound very sanitary” you said with a frown.
He hesitated for a moment “No, it’ll be fine, we’ll put up a sign, no double dipping” You shook your head with a laugh as he turned fully towards you “So, how’d your little mission go?”
“Fine, we stopped the assault, arrested all of the members, Nat and Clint will be questioning them.” 
Tony opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as someone called him from across the room “Go ahead, I’ve got to get back to work anyway” you said as you parted ways. Leaving the room you felt anxious again thinking about the party and what would happen. Trying to shake away the anxiety, you got back to work. 
- - -
You managed to distract yourself by working the rest of the day, and now you were sitting at the kitchen bar in the public part of the tower. Public meaning it could be accessed by all of the Avengers. 
“Hey” Wanda greeted as she wandered in “What are you doing in here?” 
You smiled at her and lifted your hand in greeting “Just finished work, I’m waiting for the rest of the party planners and decorators to leave for the day, they are constantly using the elevators and stairs, filling them with people and stuff.” you chuckled. 
She sat down next to you “Yeah, I couldn’t even get to the elevator in the first place” she chuckled “How’s your shoulder?”
“It’s good, no pain anymore.” you responded “So, are you looking forward to Tony’s party?” you asked her. 
She shrugged “Not particularly. I’m not one for crowded parties.”
“Me neither, but Tony will never get over it if I don’t show up, you too probably.”
“Oh yes I know, he told me so himself” you both chuckled. 
"Tony and his parties.” you commented just as the doors opened. Clint, Steve and Natasha walking in. 
“Ah, there you two are. “ Clint said as they made there way over to you. Clint and Steve sat at the bar with you and Wanda as Nat moved behind the bar. 
You sat and talked with the others for a while, about today’s planned attack, about who they were hired by, and then about Tony’s party. You started to feel the now familiar anxiety rise in your chest. Making yourself yawn, you feigned drowsiness before rising “Alright, I need to get some sleep.” you said, knowing that, though you were tired, you might not be able to sleep anyways. 
“Goodnight” Wanda, Nat and Steve said as you began to leave.
“Hey” Clint said.
Turning back to him you rose your brow. “Did you get any flowers from your secret admirer today?” he asked with a smirk.
“Ooh, yeah I almost forgot about that” she smirked as she looked at you. Wanda and Steve turned to look at your as well. 
“Uhh, no, but I haven’t been back to my room since lunch, soo”
“Soo, maybe there will be something now?” Nat said with a smile. 
Saying nothing you just smiled, cocked your head and then spun around, leaving in silence. Hearing chuckling from the others behind you as you left. You had actually successfully been distracted to the point where you forgot about the flowers. 
Luckily all of the decorators and planners had been long gone, so you could make your way to your room easily. As you stopped at your floor, you braced yourself for what would be on the other side, feeling a sense of familiar excitement. 
As the doors slid open, your eyes were already trained on your door. And placed at the bottom, was a tall bouquet of pale yellow daffodils tied together with white silky ribbon, a note dangling from the side. 
Quickly making your way to your door, you unlocked it before picking up the bouquet and going inside. This was the last bouquet you would get before learning who was behind all of this tomorrow. Your heart seemed to be hammering in your chest as you stared at the note.
You were almost afraid to read it. You hesitated before setting it down and going to the bathroom. Getting ready for bed, you grabbed the flowers and put them into a vase, a new one you bought at the store. Sitting on your bed, you fiddled with the note in your hand. Slowly opening it, you psyched yourself up a bit before you began to read the note. 
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ Daffodils
Daffodils mean “New Beginnings”. I chose these because tomorrow will be the start of a new beginning for the two of us. No matter what happens. I, of course have my own wishes of how tomorrow will go, and I am sure you do as well. Perhaps you have your own desires of who I am, and I hope that I do not disappoint you when you find out who I am.
I have so much more I want to write, but cannot seem to put it properly into words. I’m sure we are both nervous about tomorrow, but I do truly feel as though we are meant to be. And though I cannot see the future, I know tomorrow will be the start of something new, and I can only hope that it will be great. ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Reading over the note a few times you lied back on your bed as you stared up at the ceiling. You had stopped trying to figure out who it could be. Knowing that they were careful enough not to let anything seem obvious. And if you had been talking to them one on one, or when everyone would be talking about the flowers, they were careful enough not to say anything that would make them seem suspicious. 
For a moment, you debated not going to the party at all. And chickening out instead. But you only entertained the thought for a moment before you felt guilt for even thinking it. They did not deserve that. No matter how afraid you might be about what might happen tomorrow, they didn’t deserve to be stood up, especially not after everything they have said and done. But then again, what if they stand you up? What if they change their mind, and you never find out who they are?
You closed your eyes, your thoughts running rapid through every possibility of what could happen tomorrow. Eventually, without really realizing it, you had drifted off to sleep.
xx xx xx xx xx
Sooo, tomorrow is the day!
I will be releasing every ending throughout Valentines Day (10 in total); starting around 5am MST. Let me know if you want to be tagged in any specific endings.
The endings will be: Bucky, Steve, Tony, Bruce, Thor, Loki, Clint, Natasha, Vision and Wanda. 
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minaofmayhem · 4 years
Text
IMAGINE #24 - Cabin
Hi everyone ! It’s the first time I’m writing on Bruce Wayne and I liked It! 🤩 I hope this is what you expected anon, I really enjoyed writing this imagine. More are coming, stay tuned and don’t hesitate to ask for being tagged on my future writings. Love ❤️
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Summary : Tired of your husband’s absences, he knows he has to make amends so he plans a little trip on the Wayne’s cabine for your wedding’s anniversary.
Pairing : Bruce Wayne x Reader
Warnings : smut smut smut! 
Taglist : @kittenlittle24​
Thirty seven.. Tonight, it’s officially the thirty seventh dinner you take alone in the big dining room in the Wayne’s manor. You’ve waited, patiently and for a long time, but you were so starving that you finally ate your meal. 
“Should we keep Mister Wayne’s plate warm, Miss (X/Y) ?”, says Alfred’s voice as appearing suddenly from the door. The faithful butler wears a kind but sorry face expression. He lives with Bruce for so many years that he knows exactly how it feels to wait patiently for him to come home. 
“It won’t be necessary Aflred. I don’t know where he is and for how long he’ll be absent. But thank you, it’s really kind of you”, you answer back. He politely nods and approaches to clear away the table. 
“Mister Wayne is probably doing what he’s good at : helping his fellow man. Sadly, Batman has no schedules”. Alfred was always the best to resume situations. You smile at him and thank him for his service, before he disappear, leaving you alone with your despair.
Around midnight, still no signs of Bruce. You went to bed around 10m, hoping that reading a book will help you to stop thinking and being worry. But after a moment, you throw it on your night table, not convinced. You sigh loudly as looking at your wedding ring. Tonight you were supposed to celebrate your wedding anniversary...When you got engaged to Bruce, five years ago, you knew what it meant to be Batman’s wife. He never hide you the fact that he was the famous hero of Gotham city and you always thanked him for his honesty. But sometimes, you just wished that saving people would pass on the second plan, after you. You hated having such ideas cause you had the impression of being a selfish and heartlessly woman but, this is what you were feeling right now. 
Finally, you felt asleep. But you don’t sleep completely, your mind always awake and on the alert. And that’s exactly what happened when you feel something heavy crawling slowly on the mattress and a hot body coming to stick to yours. You immediately recognize the smell and the softness of the skin.  Bruce. With his strong arm, he takes your body to move it closer and when he feels your body move a little bit against his, he puts a sweet kiss on your bare shoulder. He was home and safe.
The next morning, he woke up late, around 2pm, fresh and awake after a long night of sleep. He probably thought that he would have a quiet breakfast but you have decided otherwise. You talked to him about your loneliness and the fact that he leaves you most of the time. And to crown it all, he missed you 3rd wedding anniversary. Bruce was really surprised cause you never argued. You always find a way to communicate and to tell each other what’s wrong but you couldn’t keep it for yourself any longer. 
Confused and really sorry, Bruce apologized many times and promised you to redeem himself. “He better be”, you have thought. 
And so this is what he proposed : a weekend, together, at the Wayne’s cabin outside of the town. 2 days without Batman, without Wayne Enterprise or Gotham. Only you and him. It couldn’t have been better.
You arrived on the Friday late afternoon, after he concluded his last matters at his enterprise. You, on the other hand, finished your work at the Gotham library around 4pm. You had the time to finish the suitcases before the departure. When Bruce came back, you were already waiting for him in the corridor. In less than 10 minutes, everything was settled into the Lamborghini and you were waving goodbye to Alfred.
You were the first one to come into the cabin, Bruce was taking charge of the suitcases. And you discover a beautiful red roses bunch waiting on the kitchen’s counter. Your favorites. Happy, you go directly to grab it and to smell the delicate perfume of the flowers. You turn around and see Bruce, observing you on the doorframe with a big smile on his face before walking towards you. He puts the suitcases down and embrace your body with his strong arms.
“Do you love it Mrs Wayne ?”. Even after the years, you always love hearing him calling you like that. 
“I absolutely adore them”, you exclaim as inhaling the perfume once again. He puts a delicate kiss on your forehead. 
While you are unpacking your stuffs in the bedroom, Bruce buckles down to prepare the dinner. He did some shopping before coming home this afternoon and has everything he needs to prepare a delicious stew. While you are alone, your discreetly prepare your surprise for tonight. 
“Dinner is almost ready my love”, you hear Bruce’s voice from the kitchen.
“I’m coming”, you yell back after hiding your little package under some of your stuffs in the wardrobe. 
Once in the kitchen, Bruce holds you a glass of red wine. You take it and you cheers. 
“Happy anniversary sweetheart”, he whispers as looking intensely into your eyes. You do the same, with a little smirk and hit your glass against his. 
“Happy anniversary my love”. You take a sip of your wine. “Mmh...it’s delicious”.
“It’s a vintage wine coming from Wayne’s wine cellar. 13 years old age. I keep it for the occasion”. You smile to your husband and put your glass on the table. While he finishes the dinner, you take charge of setting the table. You also light some candles in the middle of the table to give a romantic atmosphere. Everything was perfect so far.
*
After the dinner, you use the need to take a shower as an excuse. In effect you have an other plan in mind. You discreetly go to the bedroom to get back the surprise box you hidden earlier. Once in the bathroom, you open it and take out a beautiful black lingerie set that you quickly wear. You add a comb, some red lipstick on your lips and after a last glance in the mirror, you decide that you have the result you wanted. 
The living room was only light by the beautiful lights of the fire in the fireplace. The flammes were dancing on the wall and warming the room. They were also dancing on Bruce’s beautiful face. He was facing the fire, sat in the couch with a glass of whisky in his hand. He was glancing ahead, lost in his thoughts, probably thinking about all the heavy weight he has on his shoulders. For a moment, you stay at the doorframe, observing him with a smile on your face. He is so gorgeous under this light, with his delicate features. You are aware that you are lucky, your husband is the most kindly, brave and altruistic man on the planet. He’s totally perfect.
He suddenly turns his head when he notices you standing in the corner. And his lips stretch on a surprise and content smile. He also adds a little whistle. Flattered, you walk into his direction, with a feline walk before standing in front of him. Bruce puts his glass on the coffee table and sits at the end of the sofa to be close to your legs. He looks up, searching for your glance, as your hands get lost in his hair. Bruce’s hands stays on your lower back, caressing your skin with the tips of his thumbs.
“You are absolutely gorgeous”, he lets out in a whisper, without breaking the eye contact. He puts a sweet kiss on your stomach, his hands gripping firmly your ass. You shout out of surprise and giggle. But before you really realized it, Bruce was standing up and lifting you up in his arms. You immediately wrap your legs around his hips and he easily carry you into the bedroom, blindly.  
The room is completely dark but the open door gives an access to the fire light. Once near the bed, he puts you on it, delicately and you both giggle. But the giggles quickly turn into deep kisses. Bruce holds your face with his hands to kiss you passionately, your bodies colliding and rolling slowly on the mattress until you lay on your back, with Bruce up on you. His mouth leaves yours to take care of your neck and collarbones. Your body arche when he attains the space between your two breasts. There he devour your flesh, using his index fingers to remove the lingerie so as to have an access to your hard nipples. You moan when you feel his warm tongue licking them. 
Then he leaves a trail of kisses on the line of your stomach until he arrives at the waistband of your black thong. Knowing what’s coming next, you open your legs and Bruce steals between them. He positions himself so as to be able to move away your thong. You see his head disappear and a sudden lick on your lips. You let escape an erotic moan and you imagine Bruce’s content smile. 
“So wet already...I didn’t know I could turn you on so easily...”, he jokes before going back to his work. His tongue bustles in every corner of your lips, going up and down and insisting on your clit. The electrical discharge you feel when he presses his thumb on it excites you a lot. You didn’t know where to put your hands but they quickly land on Bruce’s hair that you totally disturb. You do some pressure on it, a way to show him the rhythm you want. 
After some minutes, he pulls back again and lean on his forearm, you look at him and wait for the rest. But no need to be impatient cause you immediately feel his finger entering in you. 
“Oh”, you exclaim while your head falls on the mattress. Glad of his effect, Bruce starts to move and adds a second finger that easily moves into you. When he estimates that you are enough ready for him, he quickly moves back from the bed to remove his shirt and trousers. Impatient, you get up to stay on your elbows and observe him as he remove the last piece of clothes on his perfect body. In the shadow and with the little light of the fire, you only see the sharp of his muscular body. You can’t see the scars and bruises that cover his skin. Things that belong to Batman. Tonight you are only with the man, not the hero. 
Completely naked, Bruce comes back next to you and captures your lips for a passionate dance, your tongues moving together in perfect harmony. You take advantage of his inattention to glides your hand between your bodies until you reach what you want. When he feels your fingers around his hard member, he moans strongly and stop kissing you. 
“Not tonight baby...”, he whispers against your lips as taking your hand in his to put it around his neck. You understand and kiss him tenderly on his lips. Without warning you, he uses his strength to get over your body on his. Once on him, you spread your legs and put them on each side of his hips. Wrapping his arms around you, to hold you close, Bruce’s hands go down till your ass cheeks. You feel the tip of his erected member hitting your entrance through the lingerie and you moan against your husband’s lips. There one of his fingers just move away the string of your tongue. With his other hand, he spits on his palm and cover his dick with his, although you are already soaking wet. His glans pushes near your entrance and with a slight pelvis move you let yourself impaling on him. You both let escape a cry of pleasure, not leaving each other’s glance. 
Bruce’s hands lay now under your ass, where he can take your lower body while he moves his pelvis. At each slow thrust, you experience a new sensation. You’ve never tried this position before and you must admit that you really enjoy it. Embraced in Bruce’s arms, you feel good and protected. He continues to move, in and out, increasing slowly the rhythm of his thrusts. He can hear your moans and rapid breathe against the skin of his neck, telling him that you are feeling pleasure. Holding you closer to him, he speeds up once again, taking the control. Closing your eyes, you have a beautiful sensation crossing your lower belly and you know, by experience, that it means your orgasm’s arrival. 
“Don’t stop Bruce...”, you manage to say, between to breathe, as you feel him hitting your spot many times in a few seconds. “God...yes...”. You scream a bit louder this time. You hear a masculine growl and you take it as an answer to your request. The heat in the room start to become unbearable and you are almost sure that the windows are covered with mist. 
Bruce increases the speed one more time and you experience new incredible feelings. Surprised, you pull back a little bit, your body still stick to him. Eyes closed, you moan louder and louder as you hear Bruce activates himself under you to give you the pleasure you deserve. In the final straight, he moves the fast he can and suddenly, the orgasm hits you. It is strong, powerful and almost impossible to support. 
“Oh my god...”, you moan in a pure erotic breath. You feel your uncontrollable legs shaking and Bruce’s hard member entering now slowly in you to make you cum till the end. He knows exactly how to please you. Completely in a sweat, you don’t have time to catch your break that you feel Bruce moving again on so he can cum too. A couple of minutes later, his member thrusts you a bit harder until you hear him growl wildly, his strong muscles contracting. 
For a moment, you both stay quiet, in each other’s arms, lying down on the bed. Your bodies are a bit sweat but you don’t care. You are feeling good and relax, hearing nothing except the fire cracking into the chimney and Bruce’s heartbeat into your ears. You suddenly notice that he didn't make the effort of removing your lingerie and you giggle, half sleepy. 
“What’s so funny ?”, he asks, curious to know.
“I just notice that you don’t take off my lingerie”. A silence settle and then you both giggle, your laughs resounding into the room. 
“I really like seeing you in this. It really suits you well”, he confesses, watching the ceiling, his fingers caressing thoughtfully your shoulder. You thank him for the compliment and smile. Always so gentleman. You are totally in love with him. Now it’s he’s turn to ask something.
“So...what do you think Mrs Wayne ? Have I been forgiven ?”. 
“Mmh...not completely Mr Wayne”, you say, playing, with a serious tone. “But you still have 2 days to totally pay your debt”. Bruce’s laugh.
“If you like this kind of payments, then...it’s not a problem”. 
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nomazee · 3 years
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happy 600+!!! for the event could i request ushijima + 6:24 AM? thank you so much for posting such amazing content!
pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x gn reader genre: YET ANOTHER domestic fluff drabble, moving-in-together ordeal warnings: none! word count: 0.4k
HELLO HELLO omg thank u so much mwah !! thank you sm for requesting this too!! i hope you have a wonderful day <3
many-milestones event
<><><><><>
there’s a soft call of your name entombed in a deep, rumbling whisper. you stir from your position on the bed, mind half-asleep as you blink your eyes open to be greeted with the intimidating, yet innocent form of your lover. 
there’s a pot in his hands, the typical unpolished clay pot that’s meant to house any small plants or herbs. it looks suspiciously like the one you’ve been keeping on the kitchen windowsill for the last week or so. upon closer inspection (even through a half-dizzy mind), you’re pretty sure that… is the same pot. 
you look up at wakatoshi, confusion evident in your expression. “is everything okay, toshi?” 
he lets out a soft grunt, stepping closer and moving the pot further to your face. “look,” he mutters. “it’s sprouting.” 
silence washes over the room. you turn your head slightly to take in the time on the nightstand clock. it’s alarmingly early, and here’s your husband, standing in front of you with a basil plant in his arms and an expression of pride in his features. 
you can’t help but laugh. you’d made the decision to buy a small houseplant after moving into your new house with wakatoshi, preparing to treat it like your very own child. you gave it a name and everything! and while you hadn’t expected wakatoshi to be so devoted to the plant, too, the fact that he’d gotten up this early just to show you how it’s growing is very revealing in and of itself. 
you let out a noise, something between a groan and a hum, as you fall back into the mattress. you make a waving motion with your hand, wordlessly beckoning wakatoshi to come closer to you. 
you grab one of his wrists, forcing him to adjust his grip on the pot so that he doesn’t drop it. gently tugging his hand, you lean to press a kiss against his knuckles—he’s warm, and his skin is slightly rough from years of being an athlete. 
“that’s wonderful, wakatoshi,” you tell him. “i’m really excited for this. the basil, the house… i really love you, you know?” 
wakatoshi is clumsy with affection. he gives it in his own subtle, unknowing ways, but he’s terrible at knowing how to respond to it. thankfully, years of knowing him have crafted you into an expert in the language of ushijima wakatoshi, where the warm silence of the room means he couldn’t be any happier than he is now. 
the man crouches, hold himself steady with one hand on the bed as he leans forward to kiss your forehead gently. “go back to sleep,” he tells you. “i’ll be back at around seven tonight.” 
you nod back at him. wakatoshi hesitates to leave, blinking twice before deciding to place the pot on the nightstand beside you. 
you pause. 
“wakatoshi. is there dirt on the nightstand now?” 
“...no.” 
you sigh. that’s your boy. 
<><><><><>
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