#come across the desert with no shoes on
Text
A Day Hotter than the Hells
Halsin/ Fem!Tav NSFW || ACT III SPOILERS || NON-DECRIPT TAV || PRE-ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP || HALSIN POV ||
WARNINGS: Slight predator/prey, NSFW, Cunnilingus (fem recieving), Forest Sex, Unsafe sex, alcohol mentions, slight astarion/halsin/tav mention:
It’s a day as hot as the hells in Faerun. Half the camp is down to their underwear, poor Karlach is suffering the worst. Unsurprisingly , Astarion seems unphased. Shadowheart and Wyll are nowhere to be seen, likely resting in their tents from the sun. Gale is busy casting spells in an attempt to keep himself cooled. Though the heat is daunting, the threat of the netherbrain still looms over the camps mind, so it isn’t a surprise to Halsin when she calls out for him, Astarion and Karlach to head out. And so, off to the town he goes.
After a few hours of adventuring and not much headway Halsin sighs as he wipes the sweat beading at his brow. It felt like he was being cooked alive and he was one of the lucky ones, being as he was in his druidic armor that gave plenty of room to breathe. He could only imagine how her and Karlach could manage in this high sun. Making their way back on the harsh cobblestoned path through the lower city after a long day, she stops. Halsin trails his eyes towards where their leader's head was turned, a shop with a long flowing dress in the window, god rays casting across the sage colored garment. He smiles to himself.
She is drawn to it and he can see it in her eyes- she wants it. It’s light fabric, perfect for a day as hot as this. Without a word she disappears into the shop and is out before he can think to look anywhere else, green fabric being stuffed into her pack.
“That’s quite sheer, darling.” Astarion says, though there’s no bite to his words, just a purr in his voice.
“And quite a good color on you.” Halsin adds, his voice rolling low and a smirk on his lips. It was his color, the camp had teased that it was. She knew it too, smiling at them both once the dress was safely packed away.
Karlach chuckles at both his and Astarions teasing, “Come on, back to camp. It’s too godsdamned hot out here.”
The walk feels like a desert, but he breathes a sigh of relief as the unnatural surroundings slowly give way to more and more nature, then finally, the familiar clearing where camp was set.Wordlessly they disperse, all dying to remove their heavy armor and into something much more revealing and comfortable. Halsin catches sight of Karlach stripping each piece of armor and heading for a pond and jumping straight in, the water around her bubbling as she sighs loudly. Astarion is quite composed and a lot less rushed, disappearing into his tent after grabbing his book from where it lay on a small table. Halsin passes her tent, there’s a clamoring of armor and he chuckles at the grunts she makes as she is undoubtedly shirking off her armor in a frenzy. He’s impatient to do the same.
Unlike the others, he is not so worried of who sees. It is only natural to be bare surrounded by nature to him and so off comes the top of his armor without much of a fuss. Gauntlets came next, which he plopped into the chest by his tent. Then shoes and the bark that tied around his calves. With a sigh he stretches his arm, reveling in the feeling of the barely there breeze that caresses his exposed torso. He said a small prayer to Silvanus, hoping tomorrow would bring kinder weather.
He hears a ruffle of tent flaps and sees her and it feels the air has been knocked out of his lungs. Oak father, grant him strength! He often preferred her without the social binds of clothing but this, this he would be more than glad to gaze at for hours. The dress is long, but shapely. Every curve suits her perfectly and leaves nothing to imagination. The slits on the side leave her legs bare and teasing, rising almost to her waist before coming together and hiding the stomach he adored pressing soft kisses against. His eyes followed upward to the way her chest pressed against the crest of the dress, almost threatening to spill over. He could see how her budding nipples pressed against the thin cloth as the wind blew and Halsin had to stretch his neck to push down the near growl in his voice.
She turned to him now with a smile pressed against her lips, striding over to him before planting her hands on her hips, “Glad to be back?” She asked.
Halsin smiles down at her, now able to admire her closer, “Quite glad.” He breathes out, though his tone came out far lower than usual. Quick as ever she seemed to notice the change in his tone, dropping an arm and taking one step closer, “Do you.. Like it?” she gives him that sly smile, like she always did when she already knew the answer.
He chuckled, pressing his fingers against the seam of the dress, running his hand down the warmed skin of her upper thigh, “You could put all the goddesses to shame, my heart.”.
“Oh, really?” She said, low and sultry, nearing closer so that her chest pressed against his abdomen, instinctively his arm wrapped around her waist “ Be careful, you may anger one or two with a compliment like that.”
“Then it would be a most glorious last sight. Though I would weep to think I may never lay my eyes on your beauty again, my love.” He drew her in, pressing a hungry kiss against her soft lips.
The heat be damned, the way her arms wrapped around his shoulders had a much different heat in his gut as the kiss grew hungrier. Silvanus help him, he was enamored with every part of her, a mere touch felt as if it could bring him to his knees. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and head for the forest to find a way to quell this feeling for just a moment, though maybe once would not be enough to keep him sated. Her little jump as his hand graced her backside had him chuckling into the kiss, her hand tugging at his shoulder length hair forces a groan from his lips. It's all too soon when she withdraws from him, cutting the moment short for his liking.. but if Halsin knew anything, it was patience.
“I see you certainly approve of the new outfit.” She said coyly, withdrawing herself from him fully and smoothing the creases of the dress in question.
“An understatement, surely. I did not think clothing could compare to the bare form that nature has blessed you with…but it looks like I may have to make an exception.” he smiled, but there was heat in his gaze even still, "Perhaps later I could show you just how wrong I was."
She gives him a look not unlike a fox as she leans up closer to his ear, "I would love nothing more." it takes everything in him to stop from throwing her over his shoulder right then and there.
"Then I look forward to it." He hums low.
"My my, and here I thought I may miss the druids reaction." The familiar lilt of Astarions voice draws both their attention to him, "not that I mind, of course. I am more than happy to watch." He smiles so wide his fangs show.
"You are more than welcome to watch or even join in if you'd like." She says it before he can and there's a part of him that hopes the vampire would agree. But Astarion scoffs with his head held high, "And watch your animalistic fucking in the woods? No thank you, darling." He pauses as if turning the idea over in his head, "Besides, you know I hate dirt."
"Oh come now, surely you would not let a bit of soil ruin your own pleasure, Astarion?" Halsin chuckles with humor in his voice.
"I guess there's no accounting for taste with you, is there, Halsin?" Astarion sighs out, "You two have your fun, far be it from me to judge.. but I will anyway." He laughs.
"Spoiled sport. I guess you'll miss out on all the fun." She gives Halsin a squeeze on his bicep, a small promise for later before she sets off after Karlach who is still stretched out on the rocks in the pond.
The late afternoon seems to drag on forever and so does the heat. Halsin tries to busy himself, conversing with Wyll who had taken to sitting near a river with his feet in the water just a ways away from camp. Even in their discussions it was hard to pull himself from that memory of her.
The sun began to set and Gale had been adamant to start the fire with his magic, flourishing with a show- as he did with most things. Halsin sat with his back against a fallen log, picking through camp supplies ready to be tossed amongst the fire. He was impatient for his time with her but could not deny the rumbling of his stomach. Now that the heat no longer punished them he could not help but feel famished. She came to rest besides him, having made her rounds of the camp for tonight. Undoubtedly she knew he would keep her more than preoccupied for the remainder of it.
Their leader took the camping supplies and threw them on the ironcast pan as soon as the fire was ready. He watched her wordlessly, the way she still wanted to take care of her companions when she had already done so much. It made his heart sing. And yet he knew she was exhausted, only fueled by the terror of their cranial stowaway. He ran a large hand between her shoulder blades as if to sooth the thought from both their minds, a barely there motion of circles had her leaning back against him as they waited for dinner to cook.
Gale had been regaling his time in Netheril for anyone who would listen. Wyll, Shadowheart, Karlach and Astarion had popped open a bottle of wine and emptied its contents into their chalices. Lae'zel plucked a piece of food far too early from the pan with a dagger and bit into it. But that was typical for her, Halsin had grown to expect. As a bear he'd often do the same but as an elf he would not turn up his nose to some well cooked spices. For a former archdruid this is not where he had expected to end up but now it was hard to imagine being anywhere else. He had grown to enjoy each of their companionship.
His lover traced soft lines into his hand, the druid feeling a shiver run down his spine. He had had many lovers in his time but few made him feel as heard and truly himself as her. How could one not be drawn to such inner beauty? Halsin was pulled from his thoughts when a bowl was pushed towards him, his lover smiling, clearly recognizing he had let his mind wander. He thanked her, taking the plate and taking a bite from the steak. He was quick, first to finish and even grabbing seconds. It's why he always made sure to collect more than an ample supply.
At last full, the others opened another bottle of wine joining in as chatter grew louder accompanied by laughter, the drink finally starting to settle into their tired bones. He suspected with the heat and the wine, it would take very little to addle their minds. Halsin could not savor in the moment, far too preoccupied now that neither heat nor hunger kept his mind elsewhere. Sensing this she looked up to him, nodding her head towards a darkened path that led from camp, "Give me a few moments, then come find me.. if you can. I want to see if the famed Druid Halsin is as great a hunter as they say." she was up so quickly he hadn't even had the time to reply.
Halsin's body felt alight as if every nerve was set on fire, the promise of this little hunt had been a most delightful surprise. His mind was buzzing with anticipation. Perhaps he gave her more time than he should and as he stood the others seemed to cheer him on. It was no secret where he was going and for what, nor did either of them ever try to hide it. He would've even chuckled at their cheering if he hadn't been so enraptured by the chase.
As he broke through the treeline the druid broke into a sprint, his senses heightened by the thrill. Wildshape was something he could do without, at least for now. Her scent still wafted in the air, standing out from the smell of soil and decaying leaves. Sweet, like honey. He stood still long enough to hear the snapping of branches to turn and run in where the noises were loudest. It hadn't been long when he caught the first flitter of that familiar dress, the moonlight that peaked through dense treetops made it too easy. He gave chase, hearing the pace quicken as she must've heard him too. Adrenaline pumping he could feel his eyes glowing with a familiar golden hue, threatening to force him into his ursine shape. No, he wanted to hold back , wanted to capture her as he was now. A clearing opened up, not unlike their first night together- seeing her run down to the lone tree that stood just at the edge of the water. He picked up the pace, quickly catching up so close he could almost touch her.
She stops, only to drop against the forest floor, her back against the lush grass. He halted, just fast enough that he didn't topple over her, but it did not stop him from nearly pouncing on her. He drew her hands upward in his, both his legs trapping her own. "It is unlike prey to merely surrender when in chase." He breathes heavily, watching her own chest heave from the exertion. Again he sees how her nipples press against the fabric, beckoning him to rip away the article of clothing. He resists the impulsive thought.
"Maybe I wanted to be caught." She smiles, her skin kissed by the soft blue glow of moonlight. She is breathtaking to him.
He descends, letting go of her hands so that he may touch everywhere he can as his lips press against hers. Halsin moves his leg to nudge between her thighs, which she happily parts for. It's euphoric, his tongue dipping into her mouth to taste every bit of her as she moans against him. He gives his own groan deep in his chest as she threads her fingers through his hair much like she did earlier and tugs lightly. His hands drift downwards, continuing to kiss her with everything he has, his thumbs finding the slits of the dress before his hand finds its way to that familiar patch of curls. Her body tenses only for a moment, her breath heavy as he realizes she hadn't even been wearing anything underneath.
"My heart…" He rumbles low, like faraway thunder, "nature pales in comparison to you."
"My love," She pleads back, "let me feel you. I have been waiting for far too long."
"Then you shall have me." He pressed another passionate kiss to her lips before peppering chaste kisses to her cheeks and then the warmed skin of her neck. She moans and his hand travels further still, his thumb tracing over her labia to feel her need coat his thumb. It makes him groan, feeling how ready she is for him. Halsin's kisses travel even farther still, taking his time to turn his attention on her covered nipple, then the other, all while his hand continues to circle her clit. The sounds he pulls from her are high and sweet like music, sounds he could not get enough of. She's begging as he continues soft circles, not enough to send her over the edge just yet, but enough to make her legs shake.
"Halsin, please." She says so softly he can barely hear it through her heavy breaths.
His lips have found their way lower, fingers now leaving her clit to push the offending fabric away. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, a soft whine when his fingers leave but let's out a cry when his mouth is there instead. The flat of his tongue swipes upwards before he truly sets in on his work, his tongue delving into her entrance makes her dig nails into his hair as he pulls her leg over his shoulder for better purchase, trapping her thigh with his arm. She is crying out his name with each swipe of his tongue and he can tell she is not far now. He hums and the feeling reverberates through her, pressing her upper back into the ground in attempts to arch her back in his strong grasp. With one arm hooked around the underside of her bent knee and the other pressing against her stomach it is hard for her to escape his hold. She tastes divine, the druid pulling sounds from her with each lick and suck. He could stay here forever, devoting his mouth to her pleasure until the sun rose again. But admittedly even he was growing impatient to finally feel all of her again.
The hand at her stomach ventured downwards trapping her other leg in the bend of his arm and aiding his tongue as he rubbed circles against her clit. Her sounds grew shrill, no longer words, just a desperate cry for release. And who was he to deny her? Now with vigor his mouth and fingers doubled their efforts , her hips canting to meet his mouth before she came with a shout, heel digging into his back and arching her own before falling back into the grass. Her chest rose and fell with quick breaths ,too blissed out to see how Halsin kept his eyes on her face through it all. He gave another testing swipe of his tongue and her hips stuttered, her voice begging for a short reprieve.
Halsin withdrew reluctantly, finding his way so that their eyes met again as he was careful not to put his large weight on her. He drew some of her hair away from her face, stuck to her brow from the heat as she gave him a lazy smile. Silvanus, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever been lucky enough to set eyes on. Chest rising and falling with eyes lit by the stars. He leaned down to kiss her, still hungry for her, but just as softly as she deserved.
“Okay, “ she said between the kisses, “Let me up.” her breath finally started to calm.
Quirking his brow he cocks his head slightly, “You’re.. Done?” there is a measure of reluctance in his voice, almost ready to ask if he had done something wrong when she smiles a sly smile. So he sits up, allowing her to stand up, and he follows. She’s already darting to the lone tree, a large willow with its dropping leaves that hung over with a heavy canopy swaying softly in the night air. She presses her back against the bark and beckons him closer with a crooked finger and it takes him only seconds to be upon her, resting his hand above her head as he stands over her. “Hardly, as if I could ever be done with you.” She whispers and he knows it’s the truth. The dam breaks and Halsin kisses her as if he hadn’t in centuries holding her against the trunk of the great willow, doing his best not to press his body too roughly against her smaller one. Her hands grab for the tassels that hold his pants together and he cannot help but moan into her mouth as she cups his hard length through the leather. Godsdamned constricting clothing!
With a grunt he pulls back, face twisting in conflict for the brief moment he had to part from her before yanking the pants from his hips, nearly tearing it in his need and stepping out. It is mere seconds but it feels far too long as he returns to her, pulling the long front of the dress to the side and letting out a low growl into her mouth as he feels her cunt rub against the length of him. Halsin stretches his neck, eyes an amber glow once again as he bares his teeth. “You intoxicate me.” He rumbles as he pulls her thigh to wrap around his waist with little effort.
“And you, I.” Her breathing is light and airy as he feels her tease against him, still feeling her warmth and wetness rub against the underside of his cock. He feels almost lightheaded and then the chord of his patience snaps. He lines himself up and pulls her into him as gently as he can in this state. “H-halsin!” She whines with a desperate warble that makes his back arch, pushing deeper into her.
“My heart,” he sighs, feeling how she stretches around him as his arms brace her hips, “You are nature’s greatest gift.. as if sent to me, meant to take me..” He groans as he finally seats himself all the way inside her and he can feel the way her breath shakes at every sensation.
“Then take me.” She whines, pulling him in to kiss, “You are driving me mad, don’t hold back.”.
It is enough to have his hips pull back and rut hungrily back into her, forcing a silenced yelp from her as Halsin no longer holds back, pressing his nose against her neck as his hips fight with hers. Through the haze he registers she’s still wearing the dress and he curses to himself, wishing he had removed it earlier before the threat of ripping it to shreds didn’t become more and more prevalent in his mind. He pulls the straps at her arms down, not enough to tear. She loves the dress and his heart could not bear to ruin what little pleasure she was allowed. She deserved at the very least that much. She pulls her arms from the straps to hook them around his broad shoulders, and he can hear her panting in his ear. It’s enough to make his eyes roll back in his head, hands moving from her waist to the hem of her dress to pull the offending fabric down, exposing her bare breasts to him. Halsin's hands pluck and rub against her budding nipples, the whine leaving her lips like a song. Despite the night it is still hot, he feels the sweat roll down his brow, the wind that rushes past his body is cold from the perspiration at his back. It’s a welcomed feeling after the day and it renews him with strength. His hips are rough and punishing, he can feel she’s close and each thrust into her tightness has him wanting more. The sounds, her scent that only grows stronger with the heat and their joining, driving him to near madness. The druid braces his free hand behind her back, hoping to alleviate the roughness of the bark against her from the tree.
“Hells.” She managed out, pressing her head against the trunk “I’m close, my love.” she warns.
“As am I.” he breathes against her throat, “Let me feel all of you, my heart. Do not hold a single one of those beautiful sounds back from me.” At that his hips are even harsher, and he feels her body begin to shake, her leg at his hip squeezed against him as she let out a cry of pleasure, growing impossibly tight around his length. Absolute bliss glimmers in her eyes, and he gives one, two, then one last thrust and follows her into that wonderful afterglow. They both stand there, her body nearly limp against him, his weight pressing back is the only thing that keeps them held against the tree, neither of them moving as he runs a hand soothingly against her hair, only listening to one another's haggard breaths as they slowly come back to the world around them.
“I don’t think I could ever tire of this.” She says and he can feel how the culmination of their joining begins to spill from her on to him.
He smiles, his heart feels full to see her so relaxed in his arms, “The night is far from over, my love.”. She smiles, pulling him in to kiss him once more. Halsin can feel his need for her growing again even as he pulls himself away, missing the feeling of her already. She nearly falls over him as he moves, the druid reaching his arms out to catch her. She laughs, a sweet, soft tone like honey and he can’t help but to do the same. Regaining her balance she stands on shaky legs, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him down with her into the lush grass. She laughs as he is careful not to fall on top of her, laying with her eyes to the night sky. Halsin does the same.
It’s a comfortable silence before she points to the sky, making shapes from the stars. They spend time just relaxing and he finds her arm intertwined with his as he points out what looks like a bear.
“I am not surprised you would find a bear, my love.” She teases.
“Look,” he points, adamant on the ursine shape in the sky, “You cannot look at that and tell me it isn’t a bear.”
She laughs again, rolling on top of him with her hands placed on the planes of his chest, “If you spot a githyanki, let me know.”
His hands immediately moved to her hips, “I am suddenly far more preoccupied with more important things.” he hums as he soothingly moves his hands up and down , tracing her hips to her thighs.
“Oh, you are?” she says with a roll of her hips.
He groans, gripping her hips now. Oak father, preserve him. It was hard to think of little else with her near. Halsin pushes his calloused hands beneath the slits of her dress and began raising the dress upwards. She aids him, pulling the remainder of the dress up and over her body, tossing it into the grass, leaving nothing to his imagination. A soft hum leaves his lips, now able to run his hands where he pleased on her soft and supple body. “Though I enjoyed the dress, this is far more to my liking. Bare, as nature intended.” She leans down, kissing him again. A feeling he would not soon grow tired of. Kissing back the heat returned, feeling her hips move against his. Halsin lets out a deep sigh, arching his back so that his cock presses against her welcoming entrance. She rolls her hips back, leaning her face up towards the sky as his name spills from her lips. He returns in kind, repeating hers in a soft tone into the night air. It was enough for the anticipation to be too much, as she lined herself up with him and slowly dropped down. He winced, she was somehow tighter and hotter, a sensation of hot wax runs down his spine. Halsin raised his hips, meeting her own in a slow rhythm.
She was marvelous, sitting above him and worshiping his body. Nature had truly outdone itself with her, the soft moonlight illuminating her . He reached up with one hand, cupping her breast, then the other with his other hand, watching as her body responded to his gentle caresses. He pulled at one of her nipples and she arched her back into the touch, dropping her hips down against his. “To be blessed with such a sight, it is more than I deserve.” Halsin sighs, drawing her eyes down to him, “Without you I would still be archdruid, still chasing after the shadowcurse to right wrongs from over a century ago. From the moment I met you I knew we were intertwined, my heart.” Her hips keep moving, but slow only slightly, “Halsin, without you I would’ve gone crazy long ago. You, my one sage council, who I can always look for when I need help. Like a tree rooted in deep soil, I can always look to you. That is more than I could have ever asked for.”
“You have my heart, my love.” She says finally.
“And you have my love, my heart.” He returns.
She leans down, kissing his lips in a neediness he often doesn’t see in her. He returns in kind, feeling her tongue slip into his mouth and he can’t help but push against her as she starts to pick up the pace of her hips, wanting this moment to feel like eternity. She pushes his shoulders, forcing him back into soft grass and he can't help the chuckle that leaves him. But her dominance makes him groan, raising his hips harder as her thrusts come down to meet his. She bounces now, and he is transfixed with how her body moves, his hands at her calves, drawing soft circles with his thumbs.
“F-fuck” she whimpers arching backwards, her hands on his knees and rising up just to fall back on his cock.
If he could ask for anything it would be to live within this moment forever, to feel this pleasure, to know her body in this way from here until the Old Father took him from this world. The memory of her rising and falling against him would be etched into his brain for years to come. Her name left his lips once again, feeling the rising of his pleasure like the waves that crashed amongst banks of sand. As her hips canted he braced against her own, desperate for the inevitable end. Sensing this she sped up, her nails digging into his chest which only further heightened the pleasure that coursed through Halsin’s body. With a low and rumbled groan he came, his head hitting the soft ground as he spilled his pleasure into her. She followed soon after, a keening groan leaving her beautiful lips, pressing her body fully against his with a sigh escaping her lips. She kissed the half crescents she had left in the muscles of his chest, forcing another sigh to leave the druids lips. She lay atop of him, spent and utterly bear both physically and emotionally and he did his best to aid her, a strong hand running up and down her spine.
They lay there in silence, only listening to their heartbeat and labored breath. “We must return soon, my love.” Halsin whispered against her hair, though he did not want to leave their little oasis he knew dawn would come and once again the threat of the Netherbrain would be at the forefront of their minds..
“Let’s sleep amongst nature tonight. We can return to saving the world in the morning.” she sighed, moving so that she lay in the crook of his arm, spent and satisfied.
“In the morning, then.” he said against her, his arm bringing her in so she rested close. Halsin could not argue, to be amongst her and nature is all he ever needed.
The morning rays stir him awake first. How long they had stayed up enjoying one another, he was not sure. But what a night it had been, fully embracing their desires. He stood up, stretching and smelling the earthy wilderness around him, if only it had not been eclipsed by the rising towers of the town just a ways away. The water glistened in the early rays, fog still resting against its surface. Enticing enough to take a dip and from the way he felt, and surely she did as well, it was probably for the best. “My heart.” he roused her slowly, smiling in the way she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “Let us enjoy the waters before returning.”
“Yes” she sighed with sleep still heavy in her voice, “that sounds delightful.”
They spent far too long enjoying the cleansing waters, both redressing reluctantly and returning to camp. Wine bottles littered a ring around the campfire, the camp still asleep as they walked through. It seems their companions had found their own fun in their absence. It was quite the night to be had by all.
#halsin smut#bg3 halsin#bg3 spoilers#halsin x tav#fem!tav x halsin#implied astarion/halsin/tav#bg3 smut#halsin x reader#reader x halsin#halsin#halsin pov
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Pairings: Azriel x Reader
Word Count: 2.8k
Triggers: pregnancy trope, longing, mention of death, thoughts of suicide, blood, baby’s death, open-ended ending
Summary: Hiraeth definition: “homesickness, longing, nostalgia and a wistful desire for something irretrievably lost.” It had been several years since your passing, one that he cursed the Mother and the Gods for. Now he wanders the world, endless and lost, waiting for the day you would whisper in his ears to come home — home to you.
Note: From this request! Thank you @soulsansang (I cannot tag you for the life of me), for sending this request! I fought every urge to connect this to my Seer!Reader fics. The idea of hiraeth fit perfectly with a mourning Azriel; however, I needed something else. Needed an Azriel who was mourning not because of his actions, but due to unforeseen circumstances that fate seemed to have placed him in. I’m sorry for the “pregnancy trope”, I didn’t think I would be writing this one like this. If you do not like that trope, I completely understand and I respect you not reading this. But I do hope you enjoy, and I hope it fills the angst and sadness that you had requested!
“Azriel~!”
He looked over his shoulder, his name echoing in his ears, as he stepped out of his apartment and into the pouring rain. Dull hazel eyes stared at the gray skies as the rain poured down, relentless and unforgiving.
It had been days since this rain had started, and it seemed as if it would never stop. It was torrent, heavy with the mix of strong that howled through the empty alleyways. Valeris was almost like an abandoned city — its inhabitants were locked indoors due to the storm that shook its walls.
Azriel’s form shuddered, the wetness seeping into his clothes. He barely wore something that would keep him warm in such icy weather — a simple black jacket, a long-sleeved tee hidden underneath, and black jeans. His leather shoes were soaked in the rain as he stepped into another puddle, not caring that the wetness soaked into his feet.
He walked through the deserted city, only a few who braved the torrential storm were running through the streets. Those out looked at the Spymaster with confusion and worry, but none voiced them out loud — he wouldn’t have listened anyway.
He had one destination — and he would make it there — despite the storm.
Stepping across the Sindra River, the cobblestone bridge was overrun by the river below. Waters crashed upon slowly decaying rocks, splashing over the sides and onto the bridge. Traversing it might seem impossible for any normal Fae, but for Azriel, it was easy.
He stepped onto the bridge, not minding how the cold waters of the river splashed onto him. He paused, at the arch of the bridge, leaning over the stoney rail to look at those rapid waters that raced down the riverbend. They crashed and crescented over rocks, splashing against everything and anything that stood in its way — and the downpour only amplified the river’s maelstrom.
Azriel looked into the waters below him, barely making out his reflection in them. He blinked out the water that tricked into his eyes, and when he looked back down into his reflection — instead he found a familiar figure — hair blowing in the raging wind, eyes looking up at him, hand reached out as if to tempt him into those frigid cold waters below him.
It was tempting, to say the least, the call to be submerged into the depths of the river, to feel the icy liquid deep into his skin — and make the river his grave.
He couldn't help it — the image was like a siren with its sailors, tempting them to their end. Leaning across the cobblestone rail, he leaned down — down into the depths of the water. Azriel had every mindset, every want to drown in that very river.
However, he felt his body pause, as if a tiny hand tugged on his shoulder — a child’s laugh echoing in his ears.
His body snapped up, his head whipping over his shoulder, frantically looking around, only to stop. Eyes noticed a fallen blue-violet on the drenched cobblestone. Azriel felt his body go rigid at the flower, remembering what it had meant. He turned around and knelt, shaky hands reaching down to pick up the soaked flower. He felt his eyes prickle with tears as he turned it in his hand, before bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss on the petals, standing up and pocketing it.
Dull hues stared at the river below him, noticing his reflection once more — and not the mirage that tempted him to death. A frown tugged on the edge of his blue-tinged lips before making his way across the bridge once more, the call of death barely whispering in his ears.
He turned, his feet bringing him off paved grounds into a mud-soaked one. The mud squished underneath his feet. He weaved through familiar trees, and as he delved further into the forest the canopy above him blocked the gray skies above, the pitter-patter of rain on soil lessening. There, underneath the canopy, Azriel shook his wings out — the rain that had drenched his wings flying off in droplets. He raised a hand, running through soak locks, pushing them back away from his face. He fixed his jacket, dusting off the moisture from its soaked fabric before he continued walking.
Hazel hues saw the familiar clearing, watching as the downpour continued to drench the soil in its never-ending attack. He stood at the edge of the clearing, hues staring up at the sky once more. He silently cursed the Mother and the Gods above for this rain — all he wanted was to see the clear skies for once.
Azriel stepped into the clearing, the rain drenching his clothes once more — not that he minded anyway.
He stepped into the middle of the clearing where a lone headstone stood. A simple one, nothing to extravagant. Azriel felt his heart race in his chest as he got closer to the headstone.
Azriel kneeled in front of the headstone, a tearful gaze as he read the words that were etched onto the stone: Here lies (Y/N), the wonderful wife of Azriel. Mother of their unborn child. May the Mother and Gods bring her safe passage to the Havens.
It had been two years since he had to bury your body, along with your unborn child.
The Mother was cruel to him.
You and Azriel had been married for over three centuries — his life was full of color, full of happiness and full of love. You were everything to Azriel. He would miss you when he went to missions, kiss you silly when he got home from said missions; he would spend lazy time with you, your head on his lap or vice versa — just spending time with each other. And for those three centuries, both of you had tried for a child, but because Fae menstrual cycles were so sporadic, it had been difficult.
But two years ago, your miracle baby happened.
“Azriel!”
Azriel turned around after shutting the door to your apartment, only to catch your body that flung towards his way.
“Hey love,” he greeted you, a chuckle escaping his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, looking down and noticing how your head tucked into his chest. He could feel your excitement vibrate through your body and he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten you so happy.
But at that moment, he just leaned down and pressed a kiss on the crown of your head, watching your head tilt up to look at him, your eyes shining.
“What is it?” he hummed out with a raised brow.
He watched as you bit your lower lip, fighting the smile that tugged at the edge of your lips.
“You know how I have been feeling unwell the past few weeks…” you had started off.
Azriel hummed out, shifting you in his arms so that you were at his side, his arm wrapped around your waist before leading you into the kitchen. He maneuvered you around, grasping your waist and lifting you with ease onto the countertop next to the stove.
“Azriel!!” You shrieked in surprise, your hands grasping his shoulders to stretch yourself.
He smirks up at you, settling himself between your legs, “Now what were you saying, love?”
He watched you huff softly before continuing your story, “Well I went to Madja earlier today and I told her of my symptoms—-”
“Nausea, headaches, bloating…” he listed off.
Azriel knew your symptoms, it had worried him to the max. Both of you didn't know what had happened — he was worried about some sort of poisoning… he thought of the worst-case scenarios. And you had to be the one to calm him down from those spiraling thoughts.
You hummed and nodded your head, “Well… it looks like you didn't have to be so worried about that poisoning scenario, my love…” you whispered as you leaned down to press your forehead against his.
He felt your hands slide down his shoulders, down his arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Azriel always loved how you touched him — there was no hesitancy in the way you held him, touched him — whether it he sexual or intimate. You had always initiated touching him and now, he can't live without your hands or body near his own.
He felt your hands grip his own, sliding then to your lower abdomen, pressing his hands against the soft skin.
“… I’m pregnant, Azzie…”
Your words were a whisper and Azriel felt his eyes widen at the words that had left your lips. He stared up at you and watched as your eyes sparkle light the night sky at your confession.
Hazel hues looked up at you before sliding down your body to where your hand lay over his own. A wide smile tugged on his lips before he slipped his hands away from your own, cupping your cheeks and kissing you.
He poured everything into that kiss — all his love for you and this unborn child.
When his lungs screamed for air, he was content with pressing kisses on your skin while you giggled, feeling your hands run through his hair.
“We’ll be having a child…” he whispered in disbelief.
He heard you let out a hum, feeling your head nod, “Yes we are… after centuries… our beautiful child…”
Every word that you whispered was full of happiness, adoration, and excitement. He knew, from hearing you speak, that you'd be a wonderful mother… one that would dote on that child.
He was elated — after centuries of both of you trying, watching your family build their own little families — Azriel was worried that both of you would never be blessed with a child. Yet now, the Mother seemed to rain her fortune on the both of you.
But deep within him, worry festered like mold, slowly growing. He worried about the complications — he heard about it with Rhysand and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian. And he worried for you — and all he could pray to the Mother that you would be spared from it.
“What color should the baby’s room be?”
Azriel hummed and raised a brow, turning his head to gaze at you. He fought back a smile — he had found you so adorable. You had waddled, your belly large protruding your tiny stature. Your hand tucked in the crook of his elbow protectively.
Azriel had ensured you were in good hands during your pregnancy; and that he would always prioritize your health and safety. He would never let you go out without him, either himself or his shadows. He always had a hand on you — whether it be around your waist or, like now, your hand tucked into his elbow.
Your features glowed despite the exhaustion he knew you felt — you had looked so beautiful during your whole pregnancy and Azriel worshiped you like the Goddess you were to him.
He watched as your gaze went up to him, your head tilting slightly at the look he gave you. Azriel shook his head, “You know I'd be biased if you asked me, love…” he answered.
Azriel would choose blue, even if it was a girl or a boy, his siphon colors would be that room’s color.
He watched as you rolled your eyes, and felt your hand pat his forearm, “Why am I not surprised that, out of all the colors, you’d choose your siphon?”
The two of you walked into the paint shop, the doorbell ringing above you. You were greeted by a Fae, one who was shocked and nervous to meet the Spymaster and his wife.
Azriel patted your hand and slipped your hand from his elbow, “Go ahead my loves… I'll be here…” He watched you smile before following the Fae to the color room, and he watched with adoration.
“You can't leave me, (Y/N)…” he sobbed, grasping your flaccid hand in his, pressing a kiss on cold skin.
The room was deathly still, his sobs echoing in the loud shared room.
You had gone into labor hours ago, and that labor… was difficult on your weak body. The babe, as Madja had warned you and Azriel all those months ago, had taken a toll on your body. You had been sick and bedridden for most of the pregnancy — Madja had stressed for you to terminate the pregnancy — it was either you or the baby.
Azriel had fought for you to terminate the pregnancy; begged and cried you to.
He could live without the unborn child but without you?
Never.
He watched you cry, begged him to let you keep the babe — he listened to your bargains, and promises; he listened to you cry in the night whispering to the baby all the while rubbing your stomach.
He watched everything… but he couldn't lose you.
But you had been stubborn, wanting to keep the pregnancy — pushing it to term — despite the consequences of it.
And so when you went into labor, the amount of blood you lost… was too much for Madja to replenish with her powers. The baby that was born was already too blue to try to bring back alive. Azriel was by your side the whole labor, watching you push your body to the brink — all for the child.
He felt your pulse slow underneath his fingertips, his hazel eyes frantically trying to find yours as he watched them roll backwards.
“No…No!” he yelled, dropping your hand onto the mattress and cupping your cheeks, “My love… (Y/N)…” he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, trying to pull you from the call of death.
Azriel watched you smile up at him, your eyes focusing on him, crescenting as you looked up at him, “…Azzie…” you whispered.
He fought back tears as he nodded his head, “Hey, my love, yes, I’m here… I’m here…”
“I’m sorry…”
It was as if you knew… this would be the outcome of your decision.
“No… Don’t be sorry… Please don’t… Just… Please don’t leave me… You can’t leave me…”
He watched as your eyes roll again and he brought your face closer to his own, watching them focus on him again, “…I don’t want to… But, I’m so tired Az…”
Azriel felt a heart wrenching sob escape his throat. His thumb caressed your pulse point, feeling it slow more. He looked up at his High Lord and the Healer and both of them looked at him with a somber look.
A shake from his High Lord gave his answer.
The tears finally fell, as he looked back at you — and you back up at him. He watched your brows furrow in confusion as you stared at him.
All he did was shake his head, leaning down to press one final kiss on your lips.
“Sleep… My love… if you’re tired. I’ll wait for you to wake up…”
He felt you take one last breath, a smile tugging on your lips as you whispered, “I love you, Az…”
Azriel felt your body go limp in the bed, your head roll back and your pulse stop completely. He watched your eyes dull, that smile still on your features.
His body shook, and tears never ended as he pulled your body into his arms, cradling your head as he let out a cry, pressing his face into the crook of your neck — the final time he’d ever feel you against him.
Azriel never thought heart break would be so painful.
He stared at the tombstone, pulling out of his thoughts and memories to reach down and caress the marble stone.
“… Hi my love…” he greeted you, like usual, “It’s raining again… It seems that Valeris is in a typhoon of rain recently…”
Azriel sat himself down on the muddy ground, not caring if the mud and rain soaked through his clothes again.
He had sat there, talking to you about his day, what had happened recently with the family, what was going on with Valeris and Prythian in general. He talked for hours until he felt his voice go sore and his body shake due to the cold from the rain, but he didn’t leave… not until the skies turned dark.
Azriel laid himself down on the patch of dirt in front of your grave, laying on his back as he stared up at the sky. It seemed the rain ceased and the beautiful starry skies of Valeris peaked through the rain clouds.
He watched the stars twinkle, before a shooting star blazed through the sky before another one — much smaller — followed it.
“…Was that you, (Y/N)?” he whispered, thinking that those two fallen stars were you and the child, reaching out to him from the Havens above.
Azriel had been searching for signs, for the past two years of any sign of you in the Havens. Looking for signs that you were calling for him — looking for him. All he wanted to know was that you were out there.
And that shooting star was it.
He smiled and closed his eyes, “I’m coming back home to you…”
#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fic#acotar angst#azriel x reader#azriel angst#azriel acotar#( .inbox request : when you call me home )#( .inbox request )
325 notes
·
View notes
Text
| So, So Right | pt.1
Stepbro! Anakin Skywalker x Innocent Reader
18+ MDNI
Warnings: eventual smut, inappropriate relationships
Info: Modern AU, Anakin is whipped, Anakin literally worships the ground you walk on, Not Profread
It had been almost 4 months since your world was shattered and the pieces were glued haphazardly back together. Everything had happened alarmingly fast, one day it was just you and your mother, the next she was bringing home a stranger. He was nice, he made your mom happy and that was enough of a reason for you to love him as well.
That was until one night Obi-Wan and your mother came in to the living room where you sat typing away on your laptop for a college class. Obi-Wan cleared his throat to catch your attention, once you looked up and saw the nervous smiles on their faces you got a nauseous feeling in your stomach.
“Can we talk for a second?” Your mother asked tentatively, almost afraid to ask.
“Yeah sure. What’s up?” You raised an eyebrow and carefully put your laptop on the coffee table.
“We’ve decided it’s time for you to meet my son.” Obi-Wan smiled, “the year is almost over, he will be coming home for the summer.”
Your mind spun, this could mean the end of your normalcy. This was a serious step, of course you knew he had a son, but you had never even spoken to him, much less seen him.
“That’s a couple weeks away. Uh- well thanks for telling me?” You said confused.
“Yes but, honey, look at me.” Your mother’s sweet and calming voice pierced through the fog attempting to form in your mind. “He’s coming to visit this weekend!”
“Like this weekend? As in tomorrow?” You asked, standing up abruptly.
“Yes, he will be here tomorrow afternoon. We want to take you both out to dinner.” Obi-Wan nodded, reaching out to encourage you to walk over.
“Okay,” you forced a smile, trying to hide your nervousness, “what’s his favorite desert?”
Obi-Wan chuckled, pulling you into an embrace where you were sandwiched between him and your mother.
“Blondies.” He whispered and gave you an affectionate shoulder squeeze.
You tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable and desperate to turn your thoughts off. You so badly wanted to make a good impression on him. You knew enough about him to know he played Lacrosse, he was such a good player and had so much passion for it that he had considered majoring in sports management. Though quickly realized engineering and mechanics was the perfect fit for him. He was tall and pretty, a scar across his eye from his teenage years. That was it, that was all you had. Plus the fact you now knew he liked Blondies.
So the moment your alarm had went off you rolled out of bed and got to work. Baking was your passion, culinary school was the perfect fit for you. You dreamed of opening a pastry shop, and you used every spare minute to hone your skills. The process was easy, cookie dough and brownie batter, slap it all in a pan and throw it in the oven.
Now that you’d taken them out to cool, you found yourself restless and incapable of sitting still. This was going to be a long day.
Over the next few hours you packaged away the Blondies in a cute pastry box with a pink tag that you’d written ‘Anakin’ in beautiful calligraphy, showered and watched a few episodes of your favorite show, and now you sat at your vanity.
Staring at yourself in the mirror, hyping yourself up to meet the most important person in Obi-Wan’s life. Carefully applying your makeup, not too much, just enough to accentuate your natural features and lengthen your eyelashes. Painting your nails and nude-ish pink and slipping on a soft baby blue dress with matching shoes.
Descending the stairs while your hair flowed gracefully down your back in loose curls. Obi-Wan and your mother sat at the kitchen table chatting, immediately looking up when you entered the room.
“Oh! You look lovely!” Your mother clapped her hands and her lips curved into a genuine smile.
“Beautiful.” Obi-Wan beamed, he had really taken to the roll of father figure for you, and it showed in moments like these. He treated you as his own flesh and blood.
The car ride went quickly, and soon you were entering the restaurant. Watching the crowd from the waiting room, in fitted black dress pants and a black button-up stood a sandy haired boy. Obi-Wan rushed over and clapped a hand on his back, pulling him into a crushing hug. You stood with your mother, watching the scene unfold with adoration.
“Ani!” Obi-Wan outstretched his arms to gesture to you. “Here she is!”
His gaze lingered on your face before traveling down and back up, his cheeks a bit pink and his eyes wide.
“Hi! It’s nice to meet you again Satine.” He nodded and took your mothers hand between his two large ones.
“I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” Anakin turned to you, his height making you feel smaller than before. You introduced yourself as Anakin seemed to drink in every word.
The hostess soon called for your party, and brought you to a large round table near a floor to ceiling window. The view was gorgeous and the table setting was just as elegant. The dinner was going smoothly, Anakin was easy to get along with. He seemed genuinely interested in everything you said, you were so relieved that you didn’t even notice the hunger in his gaze.
That had been weeks ago, and it felt like an eternity. The dinner ended with a bombshell of an announcement, Obi-Wan and your mother were engaged to be married.
Now Anakin had moved in, the wedding date was set and Obi-Wan had put his house on the market. Your room was right next to Anakin’s, and you had a shared bathroom connecting the rooms. You didn’t mind, in fact you quite enjoyed being so close to him.
The friendship had blossomed beautifully, spending time with Anakin was your new favorite thing. He kept you company when you were flitting about the kitchen with your apron covered in flour, helped you with chores, read to you at night and he even walked through the neighborhood with you and quickly discovered your fear of the large dog at the end of the cul-de-sac when you practically jumped into his arms when it barked at you. He didn’t make fun of you like you expected, he held you to his chest and whispered calming words until you were ready to continue, after that his hand was practically glued to yours in a comforting grasp at all times.
Today was the beginning of his new summer job, he’d be working at the local car shop as a mechanic, he was absolutely ecstatic. Of course you were equally excited for him, but you held a bit of worry in your heart, what would you do all day without him here?
“Goodmorning princess,” he called from the shared bathroom, you almost always kept your doors open so you could easily get to his room and vice versa.
You hopped up quickly and rushed to sit on the bathroom sink while he brushed his teeth. He greeted you with a sleepy kiss to your forehead, leaving a soft smile on your lips.
“Are you excited?” You asked.
“So excited.” He grinned, spitting toothpaste foam into the sink and rinsing it down.
“Good! I-I’ll bring you some lunch okay?” You said.
“Perfect. I’d miss you too much if you didn’t.” He gathered you up in his arms, hooking his forearms under your thighs to hold you close to his chest while you wrapped your legs around him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder. He walked you over to his bedroom, gently laying you in his still-warm sheets.
“Ani?” You asked as you watched him strip from his pajama pants and sleep shirt.
“What is it babe?” He asked as he walked to his closet in just his boxers.
“What am I supposed to do all day while you’re gone?” Your lip stuck in a pout.
“We talked about this,” he said gently, sliding a white shirt over his head and throwing some jeans on the bed before making his way to you.
“I’ll be back everyday at 5:00. You’ll have from 8:00 to 5:00 to do whatever you want! Call up one of your friends, see if they want to set up a weekly hang out or something.”
He carefully tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, you could see the pain in his eyes at the thought of you being upset.
“I know. I will.” You sighed, scooting closer to rest your head on his knee.
“I gotta do this to get the experience, so I can open my own garage. How else am I gonna make sure you get that big cake shop hmm?” He caressed your cheek with his thumb, making you nod in agreement.
“You’ll see me at lunch, and once I get home, I’ll take you out to see a movie. How that sound?” He asked, taking notice of your sour expression.
You perked up at the thought, it had been a while since you’d been to the theater.
“Yes! That would make up for it I think.” You said playfully.
“Good. Now I gotta go before you convince me to stay.” He laughed, smoothing your hair and standing up.
Throwing on his jeans and a belt before tugging on his brand new pair of work boots. He took one last look at you, pressing his lips to his thumb and transferring the kiss to your bottom lip in a gentle swipe. He left you there, alone in his room. His blankets smothered you with his scent and you slowly let yourself fall asleep.
You groggily awoke to the feeling of the mattress being weighted down. A gentle hand shaking your leg to get your attention. Your sleep filled eyes barely registered the figure at the foot of the bed, Obi-Wan. You rubbed your eyes with your knuckles as he spoke.
“What’re you doing in here?” He asked.
“I came to tell Anakin bye and I fell asleep.” You laughed, sitting up.
“You almost had me worried,” he smiled, “I didn’t see you in your room when I stopped to tell you that your mom left for work and I was on my way out.”
“Sorry!” Your eyes widened, “oh I didn’t even think- I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“It’s okay, don’t apologize.” He stood up, getting ready to leave. “Have a good day!” He called as he left the room.
Once you gathered the energy to pull yourself out of the cocoon you’d made in Anakin’s bed, you headed downstairs to make yourself breakfast and to assemble a bag lunch for Anakin.
You called a few friends, only one being free every week. Your childhood friend Ashley was more than happy to have a standing date with you every Thursday, she seemed excited to spend more time with you. As you ended the call you hopped into your car and set on your way to Anakin’s new job.
You stepped out onto the pavement with your old beat-up sneakers and shorts with a black crop top. The ground around you practically sizzled from the heat and you quickly made your way inside into the sweet relief of air conditioning. You strode up to the desk and tapped the bell on the counter, a man came out from the back after a few seconds.
“What can I do for you missy?” His voice was gruff and his shirt was stained beyond repair.
“I’m Anakin’s step-sister, I brought him lunch.” You lifted up the bag and smiled.
“Right, he told me you’d be coming.” He smirked, taking in your appearance before turning on his heel and yanking open a side door.
“Skywalker! Your girl is here.” He shouted, and moments later Anakin came rushing through the door, unzipping his work jumpsuit so that it hung from his hips, his white undershirt covered in sweat.
“There she is!” He grinned, enveloping you in a tight hug, breaking the embrace to place a possessive hand on the small of your back, leading you outside and back to your car.
“How is it? Is it fun? Do you like the people? Who was that guy? Is he your boss?” Your rapid fire questions had Anakin laughing as he cracked open his can of Pepsi.
“Slow down,” he grinned, pulling out his sandwich and chips. “Yes, it’s fun and all the people are super nice. And yes, that man is my boss, his name is Gary.”
“He doesn’t mind that I’m gonna be here everyday does he?” You asked.
“No, I told him you’d be bringing me lunch. He’s fine with it, gave me a teasin’ though.” He laughed.
“Why?” You questioned confused.
“Ah no big deal, he’s just jealous that I’ve got such a sweetheart like you.” His hand found yours and his thumb brushed your knuckles lovingly. “Thought it was weird my step-sis tolerated me enough to bring me food.”
“Huh? That’s mean!” You huffed, “I don’t tolerate you, I love you!”
“I know baby. I know.” He brought your knuckles to his lips and placed a chaste kiss there before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“Guess I’m just lucky.” He shrugged with a teasing smirk.
You watched with adoration as he downed his food, he was starving, as if this was the only thing he’d eaten in days.
“I’m gonna have to pack you more tomorrow.” You said, dusting crumbs off his shirt. “Do you need me to bring you a snack? Are you still hungry?”
“I’ll be alright for today, we’ll just get some food before the movie tonight.” He said, taking his palm to your cheek.
He stared, his pupils blown wide as he gazed down at you leaning into his palm. He was always so soft and gentle with you, he made you feel so loved.
“C’mere.” He whispered, cradling your head now between both hands as he drew your face closer. Pressing a kiss to your nose and then to your forehead. “Thank you for always bein’ so sweet to me.”
“You deserve it.” You grinned, quickly pecking him on the cheek. “You should probably get back.”
“I know.” He sighed, putting his trash into the lunch bag and setting it in the floor board of the car.
His gaze lingered on your lips, and quickly shot over to the garage doors, all four were shut and so was the public entrance. He shook his head slightly.
“What’s wrong Ani?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“Nothing princess. Just thinking.” His voice was soft. “I love you.”
“I love you!” You responded happily, throwing your arms around his shoulders and burying your face in his neck. A soft groan escaped his mouth at the feeling of your lips grazing accidentally across the sensitive skin.
Anakin’s head swam as he thought to himself, about the last few weeks, the way you so willingly gave him affection, how you didn’t seem to realize how your touch affected him, that you didn’t seem to understand that the attachment between the two of you was far from normal. He should be ashamed, taking advantage of your innocence like this, you didn’t know any better. He should be disgusted with his actions, with his anything but pure thoughts. But he couldn’t help himself. You were you, and that was enough of a reason for him to throw his morals and better judgment out the window.
He made a decision right then, with your arms around him and his lips pressed against the crown of your head. He was yours, you were his.
Tag-List:
@wickedtactics
@tsugumiholic
@kingdomhate
@burnthecheshirewitch
@cherrylooney
@star611
@tahliac11
@exquisit3corpse
@jellydodger
@arzua10
Let me know if you wanna be added/removed!
#anakin skywalker#anakin smut#anakin x reader#star wars anakin#sw anakin#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x you#darth vader#darth vader smut#star wars#star wars fanfiction#starwars fandom#anakin skywalker x you#anakin fanfiction#anakin skywalker x reader smut#anakin skywalker fanfiction#Stepbro!anakin
628 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiii congrats on 200!!
May I have hot honey & vanilla tea with lyney? Extra fluffy if you can 😌
“lyney! i have an order for lyney, a honey and vanilla tea!”
☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!
i. SUMMARY: Lyney finds his partner crying, and reminds them they are loved.
ii. CWS & NOTES: crying. reader has a bad day and lyney comforts them. lyney x gn!reader. hurt/comfort & fluff. established relationship. 1k words.
iii. A/N: aly!! thank you for your order!! i think i bent the prompt a little bit, so this came out a bit more hurt/comfort than strictly fluff, but i hope you enjoy regardless!
Lyney slid his key into the lock, turning it with a click. The noise was loud in the quiet of the night, abruptly tearing through the silence. He paused, letting the night settle once more, before pushing the door open.
“[Name]! I’m back,” Lyney called, hooking his finger under the brim of his hat to tug it off his head. It was tossed unceremoniously onto the table, along with his gloves. His boots were next, stacked beside the door in a row with the rest of the shoes.
“Hello…?” He tried again, gently pushing open a door to peer into a deserted living room.
There wasn’t any sign of life in the room, but there were traces. The pillows were askew, scattered above a small dent in the couch where someone had left too quickly to smooth it back down. A mug rested on the side table—his mug, Lyney noted, not theirs—with the residue of a drink long gone still lingering at the bottom. There was a strange silence in the air, which unnerved him more than he would like to admit. At this time there was always something; distant beats of music coming from somewhere in the house, or the unintelligible sound of chatter from the television two rooms over, or even just quiet thumps and echoes that reminded him of another presence within the house.
“My dear, are you home?” Lyney called out again. The sound of his voice reverberated across the walls, with no answering call to meet him. His brow furrowed further, an uneasy feeling seizing him tightly. It wrapped itself around his lungs, squeezing tighter with every step out of the living room and through the hall.
A light glowed dimly from under the final door of the hallway, their shared bedroom. Straining his ears, he could hear a low, muffled sound from behind it. A smile graced his lips, coated in relief, and the tension slowly eased itself away from his chest, if only by a fraction. They were in the bedroom, it seemed; they had simply turned in early. There wasn’t a need to worry at all.
Still, Lyney was ill at ease. It was late in the night, far later than any reasonable person would be awake for, but they always waited for him on nights like these. Their face filled his thoughts in every step of the walk home, idle wonderings of whether they had made dinner yet, or how they were spending their evening.
Lyney gripped the doorhandle, swinging the door open with a touch too much force. The bedroom was dark, save for the light of a bedside lamp dimly illuminating a curled-up figure on the bed.
“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you pulled a disappearing act on me! But of course, I’m the only magician here—” He cut himself off abruptly, as his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness of the room. Squinting, he could see the outline of their form grow sharper, smoothing out to show the details he had missed on his first glance.
A sheen glossed over their red and swollen eyes. The edge of the blanket was clutched in a hand so tight it was shaking. Their breaths were fractured, drawn sharply from their place under the sheets.
“Are you alright?” Lyney asked, keeping his tone light, in spite of the panic clouding his thoughts. His mind was buzzing, spinning in circles with constant questions of why. “Come on, you didn’t miss me that much, did you?” He tried to joke as he walked up to the side of the bed, grasping at any chance of easing the tension in the room.
A weak sob broke apart any feeble attempt at lightening the mood.
“Shh… I’m sorry, it’s okay, I’m here…” he whispered, settling a hand on their cheek. “You’re okay. I’m here. I love you.”
I love you. The words fell almost too easily, surprising himself. Love was always a distant emotion to him; felt, but rarely spoken aloud, for fear it would vanish the moment his lips formed the words. But he knew he loved them—so much, so much more than they would ever be able to see.
“I love you,” he said again, firmer—to convince himself as well as them. His hands shifted from their cheek and brushed along their arm with a feather-light touch, grasping their hands in his own. He brought them to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Now what’s wrong? Did you have a bad day?”
A murmur; not quite affirmative, not quite refusing.
“You don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.” He reassured them, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on the side of his hand. “I’ll be ready when you do.”
Lyney let go of their hands for a moment to shrug off the outer layers of clothing, letting them fall into a pile on the carpet. He didn’t bother to properly change into his nightclothes; instead, he fell onto the bed, costume and all. The corseted portion of his outfit dug into his skin uncomfortably, but he barely noticed; he was too busy tugging them against his chest.
“I love you,” he said as he kissed their forehead, leaving his lips resting on their skin for a beat.
“I love you, so much.” He murmured as his fingers began to card through their hair, working out all of the tangles that had found themselves there.
“I love you, and whatever you’re going through, I am here for you.” He promised as he pulled them as close as they could, resting with their face in the crook of his neck and his arms draped loosely on their hips.
Their sobs soon evened out to low, shuddering breaths that left them shaking in his arms. Lyney was still, only daring to move his hand to trace circles across their back. Even with all his reassurance, they were yet to speak a single word. He continued to speak anyway, pressing his nose to their head and whispering into their hair, between gentle kisses to their face.
Each one was a promise, a lingering reminder that he was there. One to the bridge of their nose, one more to their forehead, two to each of their cheeks. They were peppered across their face, scattered like invisible stars in the smallest of skies.
He would wait there as long as he needed to, murmuring gentle words under his breath until they knew just how loved they truly were.
reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡
#✒️ — writing#[ interstellar teashop ☆ﾟ. ]#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#—stellaronhvnters.#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#lyney x reader#genshin lyney x reader#genshin impact x gn reader#lyney x gn reader#lyney fluff
163 notes
·
View notes
Text
So far, Jason’s return to Gotham was going horribly.
Sure, it had started on a high—the drug trade had been easier to take over than he’d expected, even if he had to hold back the nausea every time he saw a collection of syringes or packets of pills. Black Mask had done exactly what Jason predicted he would do, and the Joker had escaped from Arkham exactly as planned.
And then Batman had looked him in the eyes—as Jason begged, as he pleaded his father to kill the greatest monster of Jason’s nightmares—and walked away.
Even the explosion he’d wired hadn’t managed to do its job—not on him, not on the clown, not on the Bat.
Jason had managed to recoup some of his losses by going after the Replacement—the kid that Bruce actually cared about, the black-haired blue-eyed heir he wanted—and proving that he was still the superior fighter, but it was a hollow victory. There was no real satisfaction in trashing the Tower—it had never been his the way it had been Dick’s—and his enjoyment had soured by the time he met Drake’s wide, scared, hurt eyes and choked him out.
He’d managed to demonstrate that their security was laughable and their baby heroes pathetic, but he’d left a fifteen-year-old unconscious and beaten on the floor in the process. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, one even the soothing, green-laced rage couldn’t wipe, and he could still hear the kid’s lost, confused, desperate voice.
“Jason—stop—why are you doing this? Bruce loves you! Just come home!”
In the moment, it had only stoked his fury. Now it matched the roiling disgust in his stomach. The disgust at Batman. At the oh-so-sanctimonious heroes. At this filthy, stinking garbage pile of a city.
At himself.
He—he needed a break. From the violence. From the killing. From the rage. He needed to get out of this fucking city before he lost his mind, and there was only a couple of things he wanted to take with him.
Unfortunately, some of them were in the Manor.
A photo of him and his mother. The old, faded red hoodie Jason had refused to let Alfred throw out. His books.
Before, Jason might’ve asked Bruce’s permission—before he broke into the Tower and beat up the kid—but now Jason was forced to wait until he got news that Bruce Wayne was in London for a business trip—coinciding neatly with the intel that the Justice League had a big, week-long space mission—before he dared to sneak into his old home.
He didn’t try his security codes. They would’ve definitely fixed that after he pointed out that glaring mistake in Titans Tower. But Jason had spent more than three years at the Manor, and he’d long since mastered getting into or out of the house without setting off any alarms.
The first bedroom after the stairs was the one with the window that didn’t latch all the way, and the security system couldn’t register whether it was open or closed. It was a little difficult to reach, involving free-climbing up two floors, but Jason had been Robin and now had League training under his belt and it was easy to haul himself up on the ledge and jimmy the window open.
The bedroom remained barren, bed stripped, desk and closets empty, the room cold with the chill of desertion, and Jason shivered as he toed his shoes off on habit and headed for the door. Alfred usually went with Bruce on his ‘business trips’, so the Manor should be empty, leaving enough time for Jason to get whatever he wanted.
He had the petty thought that he could leave behind some random destruction—if he was leaving Gotham anyway, he might as well leave a message that even their precious Manor wasn’t as safe as they purported.
But Alfred was the one he’d really hurt, and Jason didn’t want to do that.
Jason tiptoed across the hall on automatic, his steps silent and muffled as he crossed to his old bedroom door. He paused for a moment to scan it, making sure no one had added any traps, and hoped that his stuff was still inside this room. He didn’t want to have to hunt through the massive house, and if they gave his room to the Replacement, he was going to fucking set something on fire.
Slow, shuffling steps sounded from the stairs, accompanied by the tinkle of glass and china, and Jason paused. That didn’t sound like Alfred. The Manor was supposed to be empty. Who—
Messy black hair came into view, blue eyes firmly fixed on the wobbling tray held in one shaky hand, the other attempting to hold up a crutch as the Replacement limped up the stairs.
Fucking fantastic. Jason wondered if he had enough time to slip inside the room before the kid looked up—his attention was pretty firmly fixed on the tray with a bowl of stew and a slice of cake—but he was frozen by the dark, fading bruises across the kid’s face.
Around his throat, finger marks obvious. The awkward way he was holding the crutch—Jason remembered dislocating that shoulder. The cast wrapped around the left ankle—Jason could still hear the sickening snap of bone, the scream, the sound of his chuckles over suppressed sobs—
The kid looked up, three steps past the edge of the stairs. And Jason watched the blood drain from his face.
The tray hit the floor with a resounding clatter, china splintering and skidding in all directions.
The Replacement stumbled back—and abruptly remembered that there was nothing behind him but empty space, jerking sideways before Jason could even start the instinctive ‘look out’. He flinched, and Jason realized that he’d just stumbled onto the china shards.
Another panicked step—but the shards were clearly digging into the kid’s bare feet and when his good leg spasmed, his bad leg buckled completely, sending the kid crumpling to the ground.
Jason stepped forward automatically, one hand raising—and froze when the kid jerked back, pressing against the railing and all but scrambling into the corner.
Blue eyes were wide and shining, face drawn pale, breaths too fast and too shallow as his chest fluttered, knees drawn up and hands slightly extended, as though to ward him off. Jason swallowed, and stepped back.
Okay. He got the message loud and clear. He was clearly the monster here. Jason kept his mouth shut, and stalked back to his old bedroom.
~#~
His bedroom was just the way he left it, which was both exactly what Jason wanted, and also extremely creepy. No one had even tidied up the homework sheets on his table. It would make sense if the room had been locked and dusty, but it looked as though Jason had just stepped out yesterday.
It was enough to make anyone a little bit dizzy.
Jason retrieved the items he was looking for—the picture with his mom, his old hoodie, a couple of worn copies of books that had ‘property of Jason Todd’ marked in loopy handwriting. He wanted to take more stuff, but that meant sitting down and figuring out which stuff was his, and which stuff Bruce had bought him, and the Replacement would’ve already set off the alarm so Jason didn’t have much time.
He hadn’t considered the kid in any of his plans—he’d figured that the kid had gone with Alfred and Bruce, or with Nightwing, or somewhere—and barely managed to tamp down on the seething annoyance. The Replacement was always getting in the way.
Well, at least Jason was going far, far from here. He’d never have to set eyes on that scrawny little shit again.
Jason collected his stuff and headed for the door—he’d planned to stay another night in Gotham, but he wasn’t up to dealing with the return of a furious Batman and Nightwing. He’d have to pack the rest of his stuff quickly, and get out, and—
The lunch tray was still on the floor, stew in a growing puddle, cake a soggy lump, shards of the broken plate and bowl scattered all over the hallway. Jason hadn’t exactly expected the kid to have cleaned the mess, but he had expected the kid to be gone. Hiding. Or confronting him with that stick, if the kid was particularly determined and had no common sense.
He hadn’t expected the shivering, curled-up form in the corner, knees up, head tucked down, arms wrapped firmly around shins. Or the quiet, shuddering breaths, or the choked gasps.
Jason stared at the Repla—at Robin, pressed firmly into the corner like he was trying to make himself a smaller target, and felt the pit of his stomach drop.
He hadn’t moved. Jason had spent—had spent at least five minutes in the room, and the kid hadn’t moved.
Jason took a step towards the room he’d entered through. He needed to leave. Clearly the kid thought—and Jason couldn’t exactly fault him—but Jason needed to go. Once he left, the kid would come out of it. Eventually. Jason couldn’t exactly call anyone, the only numbers he remembered were the ones to the Manor, and they would’ve locked him out of everything in the Cave.
Red. There was red pooling under the kid’s feet. The pieces of broken china littered the floor like a minefield, and that was way too much bleeding to be a minor wound. That was the kind of bleeding that needed immediate attention and probably stitches.
Jason swallowed.
#my snippets#jason&tim etc#yet another one#I have too many of these#and writing the same ending gets kinda repetitive
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ancient Runes: draco x hermione
warnings: smut! did not read through
word count: 1325
Christmas break had come and gone faster than Hermione would've liked. Late nights curled up in her childhood bed with a book and lazy Sunday mornings spent talking with her mum were now long gone. It was back to long essays and hours spent cramming ancient runes.
In reality, Hermione didn't mind that the Christmas break was over. She loved Hogwarts, it was her second home. Plus, she was Head Girl this year meaning she could replace the overcrowded, bustling hallways with long, empty ones in the middle of the night.
The silence helped her study. So, she spent her rounds walking down deserted hallways with a thick book in hand, her finger tracing the different shapes each rune made, hoping she would remember them when the time for exams came.
Her footsteps echoed in the hallway, each step seemed to reverberate against the walls. The echo, like a relentless companion, accompanied her every move, amplifying the solitude of the vast corridor.
She came to an abrupt halt in the middle of her tracks when, from somewhere behind her, she heard a noise. Hermione gently closed the book and spun around, the sole of her shoe scraping against the stone floor.
Her eyes scanned the dark corridor, she raised her wand and cast another lumos charm to better illuminate the surroundings and get a better look. Yet, she found nothing. Still slightly suspicious, she turned around and resumed walking, her senses on high alert in the dimly lit passage.
Hermione was about to turn a corner when, from behind a tapestry, a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into an alcove. She screamed, eyes squeezed close in fear, but no sound came out.
A cold hand was pressed against her open mouth. Her eyes shot open, heart beating fast. A flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes as she realized who the touch belonged to.
"Malfoy?" the word came out muffled.
"Granger." Draco Malfoy replied, a grin spreading across his face.
"Let go!" she stuck her tongue out, licking his hand.
"Ugh! Why'd you lick me? I was going to let go." Malfoy groaned as he wiped his hand on his trousers.
"Well, why did you do that? You scared me!" she countered, a frown twisting her features.
"I wanted to surprise you!" he said "Never mind that, I missed you." he continued, upon seeing her mouth begin to open in order to retort.
She smiled, the frown melting away. "Really?" she asked, feeling like a schoolgirl (which she was, lmao).
"Oh shut up." Malfoy said, rolling his eyes, as he dragged her towards him.
He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her tight against his body and resting his chin on the top of her head. Hermione sighed happily against his chest, gladly breathing in his scent; spearmint toothpaste.
Malfoy pulled her away, he placed his hands on her cheeks and leaned down to kiss her. Hermione couldn't help but smile against his lips.
Obviously, he was eager to wipe that smile off her face. He slid his tongue over the lower lip before biting the soft flesh there, his hand going down to her ass, squeezing it. Hermione gasped, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth.
She could feel butterflies in her stomach, that familiar pressure building in her lowed abdomen. She deepened the kiss, kissing him back harshly, and tugging at his hair, which always drove him wild.
Malfoy groaned against lips and pushed her back until she came into contact with the stone wall. His hands slid under her ass and onto her thighs, where he encouraged her to jump. She did, and then wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping at his erection.
"Fuck." she moaned softly. "Malfoy..."
"I missed this." he said, squeezing her ass.
She hummed in agreement and rocked her hips against his erection. "Please..." she whispered, her left hand going between them. "Please fuck me."
He didn't need to be told twice.
He pulled his mouth away from her and shoved his hand down his pants, freeing his cock. With his other hand he pushed Hermione's skirt up and shoved her underwear out of the way, using his knee to hold her up.
Malfoy looked up at her as he lined himself up with her but Hermione was too busy glancing down to look at him. He grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at her.
"I want to look you in the eye as I fuck you." he growled before shoving himself into her.
Hermione groaned, the intrusion both painful and pleasurable. Her head instinctively swung back but his harsh grip on her prevented her from doing so.
"Look. At. Me." he groaned, a wild look in his eyes and he stared to buck his hips against her.
Hermione bit her lip, scared her moans would wake up half the castle. Malfoy was relentless, his hips slamming harshly against her before pulling out and doing it all over a again. She bit her lip harder, she could taste blood on her tongue.
The pressure in her lower abdomen was growing rapidly, she was close. She clenched her thighs, squeezing his cock and making him groan.
"Are you close baby?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes. Without letting go of the grip on her jaw, Malfoy slipped a hand between them, his cold fingers making her jump when they found her clit.
She bit her lip harder, sure she would tear the muscle in two.
Without warning, she was pushed over the edge. Her nails dug into his shoulder, leaving crescent-shaped marks. She moaned his name over and over again, not caring if anyone could hear her.
Good, let them see how good his cock makes me feel. She thought as her brain turned to mush.
"I'm gonna cum, fuck." he said she slammed into her. "I want to cum inside you... I want to fill you up." his was starting to slur his words and Hermione was too out of it to response.
With one last thrust, he came inside of Hermione, his cock filling her up.
Finally, he let go of her jaw. He pressed on hand against the wall to hold them up, scared his knees would give in, and wrapped another around her small waist.
Malfoy kept them like that, holding her up, as they both caught their breath. He dropped his head on her shoulder and gently kissed her neck.
"I- I missed this so much." he panted as he slowly moved to slip out from inside Hermione.
Hermione winced, missing the feeling of having him in her, an sense of emptiness washing over her. He pulled her skirt back down into place and slowly set her down but the moment he stepped away Hermione's knees buckled. Malfoy shot out to hold her back up, a smirk creeping onto his face.
"Oh shut up." Hermione said, already knowing the comment that was bound to be on the top of his tounge.
"What? I didn't say anything." he said, a cheeky look on his face.
Hermione gave him a look that said more than any word could've said. She made to move away from him, get back to her rounds and her studying but Malfoy's arm shot out in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.
"What?" she said looking up at him. "I have to get back, what if someone notices I'm gone?"
"I'll notice you're gone..." Malfoy said as he bit his lip.
Hermione rolled her eyes and, with whatever little force she had left, pushed him away from her. She slipped out from behind the tapestry, holding her thick Ancient Runes book up against her chest, half covering her face, to hide the blush that had crept its way to her face.
Malfoy was going to be the death of her.
#draco malfoy x hermione granger#draco x hermione#dramione#draco malfoy x hermione granger smut#draco malfoy x hermione#dramione smut#draco malfoy x hermione smut#malfoy x hermione#malfoy x hermione smut#draco x hermione smut
236 notes
·
View notes
Note
ASDFGHJLLCNDLWMSNSCJJDLWKEMAMAMXNCBCJDJAOWIRJDKDK IM SO EXCITED FOR FLUFF-CEMBER OMGGGGGG!!!!!
(also, Lowkey so flattered that you consider me a ✨mutual✨ because you are an INCREDIBLE fanfic writer~)
Okay, so, Hear 👏 Me 👏 Out 👏! The Scarabia Boys and maybe Ruggie (or one of the other boys from the savannah) for prompt 28..... But what if it was reversed???? Because I'm someone that's from an area that has really cold and long winters, so I'm pretty good at spotting or catching myself on black ice..... But these guys from hot desert areas??? I just /know/ they haven't gotten used to the ice and snow yet-
But I'm just spit balling! Feel free to stick to the original, cuz it's still pretty cute!! Can't wait to read all the beautiful, adorable, amazing fics that come from this event!!!! Make sure not to overwhelm yourself or get burnt out. Take plenty of breaks and remember we can always wait an extra day or two lol 💋✨💋💕💖💘❤️🥰😍🥳🌹🫶🫰🌹🥴
I HOPE YOU HAVE FUN WRITING AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT YOU DOOOOOOOOOO~~
Of course!!! You’ve commented on a few of my works, so I figured you might like to be included in the event lol. Also, I would be in their shoes, because I am from a hot desert area lol.
You requested: Being Caught Slipping on Ice [Reversed]
Ruggie Bucchi
He had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, being on the ice. This man has a vice grip on your arms as you both go to Sam’s Shop. The sidewalk and grass have become icy because it has been raining for the past few days, and the temperature has dropped significantly. Savanaclaw isn’t this cold, and he’s bundled up pretty well.
There was one spot that was a tad wet, still frozen in ice, and he wasn’t paying attention. You felt him let go of your arm, and you turned to see that he was falling backwards. Worried about him hitting his head, you quickly slid on your knees so that his head would land in your lap.
“Is it just me, or did an angel come down and save me?”
Real smooth, bro. You rolled your eyes and smiled, making sure that he was alright and helping him back up, going to place a kiss on his cheek which made him smile. He reciprocates by moving just in time for you to accidentally land it on his lips, and he snickered as you rolled your eyes once again.
Kalim Al-Asim
His homeland is literally the Scalding Sands. If you think he knows how to handle snow, you would be mistaken. However, he has a very positive outlook on it. It’s a free Slip-n’-Slide, or he gets to be a penguin sliding on his stomach. When it comes to having to walk, however, he is at a loss. One step and he’s already fallen. He needs one of those walkers that people use when skating.
Watching you walk across the black ice so easily made him feel so amazed, and he thought that if he copied you exactly, he would be fine. He was wrong, and he fell back almost immediately. Before he hit the ground, however, he felt an arm wrap around his waist. He looked up to find you, with a worried look on your face.
“Thank you, Y/N! You saved me!”
The smile on his face made any memory of scolding him dissipate as you made sure that he was steady. You then taught him how to properly walk on the black ice, as there was a particular method to it. Making sure your body was straight and stepping down so that the sole of your foot was flat against the ground, and it was weird to get used to, but at least he didn’t fall more than he did.
Jamil Viper
His homeland is the Scalding Sands as well. However, he knows how to handle snow more than Kalim does. He was prepared when he got accepted into NRC. But, nothing could prepare him for the ice that forms on the grass and on the sidewalks. After all, his sports training takes place in a gymnasium, so the temperature is warm and controlled by a thermostat.
So, when he invited you to come play on an outside basketball court, you laughed when he realized that it had a bit of ice on the ground. Because you used to live somewhere with a cold climate, you were familiar with playing a certain way so that you wouldn’t slip and fall. He was not, and after a few moments, he slipped. Luckily, you slid behind him so that you could hold him up.
“Thank you, Y/N. I guess I have not acclimated quite yet to the ice…” He said, a bit embarrassed.
You shrugged and said it was all alright, and that you could do it because you lived somewhere cold. You taught him how to walk and run on the ice, and that he needed to have his hands out of his pockets at all times so he could catch himself. It was good advice even if it wasn’t freezing outside, as you never knew when you would fall.
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst wonderland#ruggie bucchi x reader#ruggie x reader#ruggie#twst ruggie#ruggie bucchi#twst ruggie x reader#twst ruggie bucchi#twst ruggie bucchi x reader#kalim x reader#kalim al asim x reader#twst kalim#kalim#kalim al asim#twst kalim x reader#twst kalim al asim x reader#twst kalim al asim#jamil viper x reader#twst jamil viper#twst jamil#jamil x reader#jamil#jamil viper#twst jamil x reader
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
Paper hearts PT.1
Lets go!🥊🌼
MMA!fighter!Max Verstappen X female!reader
Max verstappen X fem!reader
Words count : 1.3k
09:30 The buzzing audience held their breath as the third round rolled in , anticipating the movements of both opponents as they glide across the ring circling around before lunging to attacck .
He had the upper hand through the previous rounds , now defending perfectly before cornering his opponent delivering quick and brutal punches and kicks . Before spinning a 360° to aim a back kick that knocked him out . The audience roared as the referee declared it a K.O . The bell rang declaring him the winner .
The flashing cameras, the swarms of people congratulating him shaking his hands , clamping him on the back as he passed and chanting his name all fade into white noise in the confidence of the locker room , his team high on spirit all congratulate him again as he thanked them all for their efforts and support making a small speech a promise to more wins and more achievements to come .
getting checked by one of the medics as everyone was backing up or busy with their own thing preparing to celebrate yet another win , his father approached , not looking so pleased with his win , "that would've finished sooner if you didn't let your gaurds down the first round" . he huffed collecting his bag shoving his phone and wallet in getting ready to leave adding curtly "I had it covered" , his father replayed with great annoyance "it could have cost you the match" max just stared at him "it didn't, and if that's not enough for you" he raised the belt giving him a pissed look "this should be enough for you to get you off my back , and fuck off" .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
02:45 She hastly pocketed her phone , wore a hoodie , an old baseball cap , picking her shoes and tiptoeing to the window carefully , opening the latch and looking out the window for a minute or so , then she threw her shoes out making sure to not hit the overly expensive uniquely designed (ugly) birds statue's strewn across the garden , then she pulled herself out the window sitting on the ledge . The hight still gave her nausea , the third floor is not that easy to psych yourself to get down from , specially when your way down is an old piping system that she's totally sure is rusted out , but she'll make do with what she got , and that's what she got now so she reached to the pipe with one hand steadily sliding to firmly plant her bare feet on the sides of it , she counted in her mind then she pulled her Wight off the window and latched both her hands and feet onto the main pipe , sliding slowly down to the floor below, pausing every now and then to make sure it's still Holding and that no one woke up .
Letting an exaggerated huff as she finally reached the ground , putting her shoes on and making sure the coast is clear then climbed up the fence and made a run down the road heading north .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
03:15 his flight touched down , late flights are a pleasing when the airport looked almost deserted , finding a cap he gave the address leaning back , looking out the window at the lamp posts eliminating the empty streets , flashing as the car passed them . Closing his eyes for a second to ease his mind . Looking to the left he had a glimpse of a silhouette lying down atop the hill basking in the night sky view , and for the moment he wished he'd be in their place , to be content with just being out in the open fields . The car took a turn snapping him out ah his thoughts looking at his phone buzzing with texts from his friends and family but mostly from his father , rolling his eyes he switched it off throwing it on his Carry-on bag going back to gaze out the window .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
04:48 lying down with a pleased humm after she managed to climb up the hill , passing by the tall unkempt grass on the edge of the park right behind the line of trees framing the bond . The clearing of grass rolled on all around the hill reaching all the way to the old fencing of the highway exit , it's a long walk but the atmosphere is worth the effort , it's quite and calming , the air clear and cool against her face taking in deep breath exhaling it slowly in a relaxed manner .
The lights from the lamp posts on the road blended with the gleaming stars in the distance, the moon is almost full Maybe in two more nights it'll reach it's peak before fading out to nothing .
After a while she glanced at the time , cursing as she lost track letting her mind drift not aware how much time passed , she stood up walking back down the hill heading to a side entrance for a short cut instead of the main gate , waving at the figure sitting on a bench facing the lake as she passed by , speeding up after they waved back at her .
She stepped out moving in a fast pace close to a run crossing the street and going back .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
04: 50 he unlocked his front door taking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket greeted by his cats burring as he held them up scratching behind their ears as they Burred in content relaxing and leaning into his hold , leaving his bag by the living room entrance as he sets them down then watching as they padded away before going straight to take a quick shower , then to bed , falling asleep not a minute later.
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
05:02 she climbed back in through the window , discarding her hoodie somewhere around her room , her cap going to the bedside table and her shoes kicked by the door , landing on her bed with a tired huff she tossed her phone on the carpeted floor below the bed turning to face the wall before drifting into a restless sleep .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
08:00 he's already awake , doing a warm up exercises and putting together a meal to start the day . Checking the kitchen to make a list for later , feeding the cats before grabbing his gym bag locking his door and heading out .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
08:10 she woke up after the third snooze alarm blaring out to get her to move off the bed , she was thankful for putting together something to wear the night before . Taking a quick shower, brushing her teeth and her hair before grabbing the day's necessary items putting them in her bag then heading out in a sprint , leaving in a haste she opted to get something to eat on the way .
Her first stop is Angela's shop . Giving the owner a warm greeting along with Marc who started working three weeks ago, taking the two separate bouquet's paying and thanking her again before moving to the next stop .
Turning the corner she pumped into someone, causing her bag and flowers to fall along with the stranger's bag , both apologizing while picking up their things apologizing again before she hastly went on her way .
°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°
He was about to go on his way looking down he found a single flower laying down before him , muttering quietly "it must've fell from her" , turning after picking it up to give it back , he only saw her back getting lost in the crowded street ahead . Looking down at it he decided against throwing it away , he held it gently adjusting the bag on his shoulder Before moving on on his way .
#max verstappen#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#f1 fanfic#f1 au#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#MMA!fighter!max verstappen#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen au#paper hearts
139 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pretty, Dead Animals Chapter Four
Linette runs on Mondays.
It's ritual. A routine she had been honoring since she was fifteen and still in foster homes, trapped in the city.
It felt safer out on the flats of the desert, nowhere for predators to hide, no unexpected turns in the roads, just clear, calm sand stretching further than she could see.
Linette would have liked to listen to music while she ran, but the cost of headphones and a smartphone were luxuries that she couldn’t even dream of. The steady pound of sand under her shoes and even rushing of her breath was good enough as Linette sped across the ground, a pleasant sting in her legs and stain in her lungs as she moved.
It was mid morning. The sun sat high. She felt good, oddly optimistic for the week ahead as if there were a little spout of hope sprung up from the rubble of her heart.
Something good was coming Linette’s way. She could feel it.
~R.F.M~
Logan tugged at the length of chain to test its bearing again, watching the silver links go taught, pinching one after the other, all the way along to the stud tightened securely in the wall.
It didn’t budge.
Dropping the metal tether to the floor with a clatter, he stepped around the careful arrangement of scented markers and mindful coloring books to the mattress. Twin sized, brand new, made with top quality memory foam. It was pushed flush with the wall, right under the thick metal stud.
He hadn't bothered with a bedframe. Too much potential for her to hurt herself if she pitched a fit when she was brought home.
The sheets were white and pink, an organic blend with eight hundred thread count. Two pillows, just the same as what she had in her apartment and a light duvet with a single, beige fleece blanket folded into a square at the foot of the bed.
Other than the sleeping area, her room was sparse. No pictures hung from the walls, no clutter on the floor, nothing that she could make into a weapon or use to hurt herself. It was perfect.
Logan would buy her things, of course. If she was good, his girl could have whatever she wanted. Books. Movies. A full screen TV. Clothes and makeup.
New, pretty toys to play with that were more fun than the single raggedy old bunny she doted over.
Linette could have whatever she wanted if she was good.
But if she was bad?
Logan lifted a hand to rub along the hinge of his jaw while he stared at the length of chain.
If she was bad, then it would be Logan who got whatever he wanted.
#ao3 original work#original writing#original poem#original work#ao3 writer#ao3feed#original novel#original character#original female character#original male character#dead dove fic#dead dove do not eat#dark romance#dark writing#prettydeadanimals#pda#rfmwrites
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Minecraft With Dabi
I’ve been playing a shitton of Minecraft lately. It’s been nine years since I first started playing and I never get bored of it. But it would be… so much more fun with Touya.
☆彡 You’d think that Touya would be the one venturing into the mines to get ores and kill mobs, but he’s actually the one building the house.
“No, fuck off, I’m building it. This bitch is gonna be a mansion.”
☆彡 He laughs every time you die, but when he does he whines and wants your consolation.
☆彡 He loved the nether update because of the soul fire. It’s blue! This is the only occasion where Touya will leave the house and step forth into the nether, just to collect the materials to decorate the whole house in soul fire.
“Oh yeah. You can tell I live here. Damn straight.”
☆彡He has the strangest aversion to villagers. He’ll be looking for more materials for the house and he’ll stumble across a village. Across the room, you wonder what on Earth he could he swearing about. It’s a villager.
“Ugly ass bitch. The fuck are you looking at? Eat shit.”
☆彡 The only good thing about those villages? The cats! You ask him to go to the village to trade for some materials and he comes back with four cats. They keep sitting on your chests and furnaces and it’s a teeny bit annoying.
“The orange one is Timothy. That one’s Binky. Those two are both named George because why the fuck not. We don’t got any nametags so you better have good memory, doll.”
☆彡 Your beds are next to each other. The most peak form of romance there is. He’s dyed them cyan to match his eye color because he knows you love it. There’s pots with poppy flowers next to them, and in front, a window with a perfect view of the sunset.
☆彡 Any plans you had on killing the ender dragon or wither are getting thrown out the aforementioned window. Touya insists that you’ll end up dying and losing all of your good gear that you worked so hard for, and why beat the bosses when instead you could decorate the house with him?
☆彡 This poor boy is so unbelievably bad at parkour. Hell, he can’t make one-block jumps most of the time. He doesn’t have the best hand-eye coordination when it comes to video games, but still… he’s so… trash at it.
☆彡 He genuinely has a fear of creepers. There are torches scattered inside and out the house because he doesn’t even want to see one of those creatures. There are very, very few times you’ll ever hear Touya yelp in surprise. Most of those times are due to creepers. He’ll be placing down carpets and in the corner of his eye he sees a creeper outside the window… his mouse is on the floor and he accidentally bit his tongue.
☆彡 He’s just the sweetest boy ever. As a reward for doing all the mining, he drops you multiple! stacks! of flowers! There’s an abundance, so many you need separate chests for them. He doesn’t just gift you flowers either. A nice shiny emerald he “found” after verbally assaulting a villager? All yours. A golden apple he found in a desert temple? Just for you. Although you do have to praise him for being so brave and going to that desert temple all by himself. That gets his imaginary tail wagging.
☆彡 He always makes sure to repair your armor and tools. If you put down your gear so you have inventory room for something else, he’s secretly taking them and repairing them, sometimes he even has enough experience saved up to enchant them. It’s always a nice surprise to see the glowing purple on your gear and a smile on Touya’s face.
☆彡 So much swearing. He fell off the roof? “Fucking bullshit, I was crouching!” He can’t find one of his cats? “Where is that little shithead?” There’s a zombie in the house? “Motherfucker, get out of here! Babe, help! There’s a shithead in the storage room!”
☆彡 He thinks of armor as like wearing shoes in the house. When you come home from mining he makes you put your armor onto a stand.
☆彡He makes sure you’re home every night so you can watch the sunset together.
#touya todoroki x reader#dabi x reader#dabi fluff#soft dabi#soft touya todoroki#touya todoroki#dabi#dabi todoroki#dabi imagine#dabi my hero academia#touya todoroki fluff#touya headcanons#touya todoroki x you#touya todoroki is so soft
411 notes
·
View notes
Note
can you give some prompts of either asphyxiation/strangulation or heat whump please? i hardly see any that are prompts soo
hi! Feel free to check out this post for asphyxiation/strangulation recovery whump ideas. I'll jot down some captivity ones while I'm here:)
Content: Aspyxiation/suffocation, collars, captivity, immortal whumpee, gags, heat whump, environmental whump, dehydration, burns.
Aspyxiation/stragulation
Whumper tightening Whumpee's collar by one hole each time they misbehave. Really, it's up to Whumpee as to whether they want to be able to breathe or not within the next few hours.
Whumpee stucks their tongue out after a certain amount of time without air, and Whumper thinks it's the cutest thing ever. Cue them randomly reaching out to choke them and just waiting to see Whumpee start to drool and for their tongue to stick out.
Whumpee's raspy breaths in as the force around their neck slowly tightens.
Shoving their face near a pot of boiling water and threatening to drown them in it.
Whumper trying to "squeeze the tears out of them". AKA Whumpee cries when they're choked.
An immortal whumpee going hours or even days with the collar practically suffocating them.
Whumpee mouthing the word "please" over and over again and Whumper choosing to take it as "squeeze harder".
That huge gasp of air and the way their body writhes when they're finally able to breathe again.
A reverse gag being shoved down their throat until they learn to be respectful.
The little choked whimpers that Whumpee lets out as their airflow is cut off.
Environmental heat whump
Whumpee is stuck in the desert and refuses to drink any water until they actually need it. Cue them passing out on the ground because of dehydration.
There's a heatwave coming and vampire Whumpee is suddenly extremely aware of the sun looming outside, waiting to get them the moment the curtains peer open or there's a crack in the door.
After being stuck out in the hot sun all day, Caretaker runs Whumpee a cool bath and helps them bathe. They're surprised when Whumpee turns the knob for the cold water and lets it cool the water even more.
Stuck in a desert, but they've spent their entire lives living in the cold and have no idea how to survive the heat.
Accidentally trapping themselves in a boiler room.
Stuck with a broken/sprained leg on the side of the road as the sun burns them. There's no shade anywhere and they're in so much pain.
A vampire whumpee absolutely horrified by the sunburn Whumpee has acquired while out and about. (Check out this little drabble from @whumpsday)
Screaming for help but their mouth is so dried out from the heat that barely anything comes out.
Whumpee having no choice but to walk across the pavement on a really hot day without shoes (hurts like a fucking bitch)
Whumpee not being able to sleep because of the sunburn that's on their entire body. The countless days of running on no sleep and being barely unable to move because it hurts so fucking bad.
#whump#whump stuff#whump things#whump thoughts#whump tropes#whump prompts#whumpee#environmental whump#vampire whump
168 notes
·
View notes
Text
Just like Business
Steve rogers mafia!au
summary: with the fate of the underworld on your shoulders, your attempt to keep a low profile fails and instead, you make a deal with the king of Brooklyn himself.
warnings: violence, regular smugular mob talk, mentions of domestic violence
a/n: sorry it took so long for chapter 3 to come out, school has been up my ass lately and I lost half my draft. (I’ve also changed Diore’s name to Clementine because I'm playing twd)
The taste of stale wood catches on your tongue as you nervously chew on the end of your pencil, the Diner is slow today, and you've found yourself in the corner of the kitchen, tenuous forms spread out in front of you. The slowed trickle of patrons coming through the familiar jingle of the doors gave you enough time to fill those papers out before the seats do.
Knees to your chest, you ponder over what to write on the clearly dotted line named “Next Of Kin”. You watch as a man dribbles coffee down his white shirt, failing to catch the drops with a damp napkin as your mind remains a blank deserted canvas. Truth be told you didn’t have anyone you could call in an emergency, it was a bitter pill to swallow, even more so than the pencil between your teeth.
Clem was spending her allotted days off with her niece, mentioning how her erratic sister had dropped her off last night. You understood complicated families more than anything, it was what you lived and breathed for the better part of your adult life, but it meant the hours at work would drag on even further. Clementine was able to keep your mind off of everything, your escape, your husband, that man, that goddamn number. Your entire life was a scattered map of holes and ink spills, and it seems to follow you even on this side of Brooklyn, where eyes were always trained on your own shoes and you learned to keep to yourself.
Any other day you would have called in sick, without Clementine to help push the metaphorical hand to tick past your 9-hour shift. But you couldn’t bare the thought of remaining in that 3-foot room isolated and just waiting to be attacked. Your mental state was as fragile as ever, and you felt even the slightest scare would send you spiralling.
The target on your back grew bigger and bigger each day that went by with the threat of that man’s promise looming over your head. The crumpled napkin remained on your bedside table since that night, and you made no move to initiate the call. His patience was wearing thin, this you knew, but you didn’t have the guts, even now, to face the reality of what you had done.
Leaving the line blank you quickly fill the rest of the form, trying to tear your mind from thinking too hard at the prospect of having no one to rely on. All that was on your mind at the moment was the prospect of a dry winter, with a heater that worked and walls that weren't covered in mould. You hope the council would take your concerns seriously now that you had gained some stability, even as small as it was.
The jingle of the doors finally dragged you from your crouched position, collecting your papers you quickly shoved them under the counter before brushing away any creases on your apron.
The figure had seated themselves towards the end of the diner booths, away from any clear windows where they could be easily seen. Grabbing a menu you made your way past the many vacant booths before finally reaching their table.
It was a man, fairly built, with dark black hair moused from the light shower outside, he wore a deep maroon coat eerily similar to the man from earlier that week. He had deep grey eyes which would have been overshadowed by the curls of his hair falling in front of his eyes if they weren't so intense. His features were distinctly masculine, outlined by a sharp jaw that was littered with stubble, and his arms were outstretched across the booth's couches.
Transfixed by his features you had almost forgotten the menu between your fingers which was scarily close to slipping, he cleared his throat expectantly and you quickly placed the menu on the table.
“You got a staring problem or somthin?” The deep Brooklyn accent drew out as he enanuctaited his words, a smirk breaking through his stoic features but not quite reaching his eyes.
You swallowed thickly, looking down and attempting to avoid his grey orbs which seemed to remain at your face, he had a look like he was dissecting you, cutting you apart and looking into your soul.
“No-, No of course not, sorry. Uh, what would you like?” You choked out quickly, and you gripped your apron as he took notice of your apprehension. he could smell your fear, you could feel it.
He chuckles audibly, the sound sort of muffled behind it’s falsity. A relaxed expresiones seemed to ease the calculating look on his face just moments ago, as if he’s come to a conclusion.
“Your ma never taught you some manners?” He continues, this time however, his eyes are trained on the menu items, seeming to peruse through them thoroughly.
Your mother.
The thought of her and any expectant of motherly duties made you audibly laugh, causing the man to look up, eyebrows quirking at the chuckle leaving your mouth.
You cough quickly, attempting to hide your sudden outburst. It was just, there were a lot of words you could call that person, but a mother? That certainly wasn’t one of them.
You’d soon see hell freeze over before she’s ever act like a mother towards you, whilst your friends and classmates were taught how to braid their hair, or tie their shoes, or ride a bike, your mother, she, was out in the alleyways and prisms of her addiction.
You’d need a pick axe to get through the stone face she morphed into each time she walked through your childhood home. She wasn’t absent, always somewhere, she was just expression less. Like you’d drawn her with a broke crayon and coloured her outside the lines.
Shaking yourself from your past, the man’s eyes are fixed on you, confusion swirling through those grey orbs, before his lips lifted in a small smile.
Why did he look almost apologetic? You already had one strange man after you, did this god want to grant you with another?
“Coffee, black”. Said the man, folding the menu closed that was opened on desserts of the day.
You nodded, taking the menu from his grasp, before turning back towards the kitchen, the squeak of your trainers against the linemen floor.
Funny, he looked through the entire menu only to order a plain coffee, black at that. You’d hardly seen that order in a while, the iced latte-frappe-mocha obsession had taken over even the tiny diners like this one.
Another thing that’s seemed to change this week.
Making you way back to the kitchen, you quickly begin making his coffee. You weren’t particularly specialised at the art of making coffees, however his order seemed fairly straightforward.
Plus without Clem on today the diner was even more short staffed, and completing multiple jobs was expected.
Mind miles away, you almost spill the coffee grounds as you tamp them into the portafilter, attempting to replicate the steps you’ve seen Clementine do a thousand times.
Setting the espresso machine to brew, your able to shift your eyes towards the man in the corner, who’s now pulled out a silver phone and seemed to be in a heated conversation.
You knew that it was wrong to eavesdrop but god your brain would explode if you kept at this repeative mundanity of watching cars splash water violently against the diners windows.
You catch a couple words being exchanged, as the man roughly pushes his strands back into the low bun sitting low on his head.
“Steve, cmon, ya sure it’s her?,
“She don’t look like it that’s for sure”
“Robinson waiting on a package so I can’t stay long-, okay yeah, yeah I hear you, ya big head, don’t need to yell damn.” Mumbled the man exasperated.
He muffled his words into the cellphone as if he could tell you were eavesdropping and you quickly look away when you see him shift in his seat.
The espresso beeped as you pull the shot from under the machine, pouring it into a mug as you add 2 heaped teaspoons of sugar.
Stirring slowly you chance a glance from under hooded eyes, and expecting his broad shoulder and back towards you, instead his turned his shoulder, eyes staring directly toward you.
Taken back you shift your eyes back to the mug, fingers gripping the teaspoon tight as a attempt to pretend that he hasn’t unnerved
It seems to fail as the next time you look up his grinning, phone still pressed to his ear as he nods along with whatever they’re saying.
You question whether to bring it to him, the coffee, and just ask one of your other co workers, but you’ve already gone this far. Waitressing practically came with the packaged deal of sleazy men who couldn’t take a hint, it was depressing but you’ve gotten used to people disregarding your boundaries. You wouldn’t let some creepy yet incredibly attractive man scare you away from doing your job.
Appearing at the booth in almost an instant you place the ceramic mug infront of him. Murmuring his coffee, and not letting a second past before you attempt to escape, shoes squeaking at your hurry.
“Excuse me, Mrs” The man’s Brooklyn draw calls you however, the politeness falling from his red lips before he can help it. You freeze under the formality, fingernails digging into your palms.
Mrs? Mrs. You almost forgot that you were still a married women, it was something you kept hidden for a reason, the encrusted ring was hopefully rotting at the bottom of the hudsen.
And that was it, here, in Brooklyn, no one, no one knew you were with someone much less married, and yet this random man, who wasn’t quite a stranger knew. Hell he called you Mrs loud enough for the entire diner to hear.
To say you were shitting yourself was an understatement.
“Would you prefer ma’am, I hardly know these days” Chuckled the man unfazed by your trepidation, this was a sick game to him.
“How about you sit down and have a chat with me? Just 5 minutes of your time, all I’m asking” The man sing songs, acting as if he were pleading with you, however you noticed the demand laced under his tone. You understood a demand when you heard it.
Your back is still towards him, and your eyes shift to the diner door to the right, and, just as quickly the man reminds you of his loyalty.
“Look doll, I don’t wanna have to go to more extreme measures to find you again, so just sit down here with me before we both do something we regret” The man really pleads this time, he seems exhausted, like he really did look under every hole in New York.
You are are still fixated on the diner door, the paint chipping from its sides, and a dirty brown appearing at the foot of it from the rain coming through the sewers and onto the footpaths. You gulp down the crawling bile rising from your stomach before slowly turning around, each step causing a small breathe to escape from your chest.
You slide into the booth just as the man reaches for his cup, sipping it slowly as he eyes to intensely.
“Atta girl, now was that so hard?” He finally replies, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
Your hands, you don’t know what to do with them, they’ve begun to dig painfully into your palm and you quickly shove them under the table when they begin to shake.
The man watches them carefully, his brows furrowing in confusion as if he didn’t expect you to be so goddamn meek and weak.
God. You’re so fucking weak it’s pitiful
“Look, I’m not going to keep you long, alright? I personally don’t like dragging out a girl like this but orders are orders ya know?” The man rambles, not waiting for you to answer him before he continues.
His eyes shift back and forth, down the diner aisles and across the vacant seats, he leans in, and from a distance it looks as if you two are both lovers on a night out. Huddled against each other from the harsh downpour outside and warmed the the love in the air and the longing in your eyes. The soft glow of the ceiling above casting a eerie romantic feel similar to days before.
“He knows your avoiding him, and in all honesty, this is the longest his gone before going out himself and getting what he wants” The man replies, dark greys watching your slumped posture against the booth coaches.
You’d hoped he’d just given up, the hours going by as you waited for your doors to come slamming down but it never did. It was stupid, you knew this, you didn’t get lucky in this world, but a small part of you had hoped so hard that he just saw you for what you always were; ordinary. Mundane and colloquial, the blurry face in a crowd, the person you always forgot and the name you never quite remembered.
You chest cave in at the truth of the reality you were forced into, you didn’t even care at this point, as your exhausted body rested against the booth, fingers rubbing your tired eyelids.
“What does he even want with me? I don’t know who you are, but you look like your smart enough to know how utterly useless I would be to whatever plan hes drawn up”. You reply
“I don’t even know anything about..about..that world!” you gulp as he looks towards you expectantly. You don’t even know what to call it, the underworld? The mafia? Criminal organisations? Which one would least likely get you killed?
“He kept me out of pretty much all of it, okay? He never let me enter even parts of the house to keep me ignorant and obedient. Couldn’t let the wife know about the 17 year old boy I tossed into the sewers right? Isn’t that what you men do?” You reply heated, spitting the accusation in disgust.
Your words don’t faze the man, and it’s then down you consider what he must’ve already heard and seen a hundred times, this was normal to them, this was life to them, this was making a black coffee to them.
“His not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your scared o-“ The man says, and you cut him off quickly
“Oh trust me, getting hurt is the least of my worries, I’ve gotten a lot of practice” You laugh morbidly, as he looks at you strangely, his eyes peek at the healing bruises on your arm and you tough your sweater down self consciously.
“I don’t doubt it, Matthews is ruthless, and I’ve got to hand it to you, your a real fucking smart one for being able to escape him of all people. But let’s me realistic here, you and i both know what this world is like, sure you’ve made it out, but how long do you really thing you’ll be able to be ahead, to keep up with this on the run shit?” The man reasons, adding more sugar packets to his coffee, before stirring it slowly.
You remain silent as you take in his reasoning, he’s not wrong, soon or later you’d burn out and do something stupid and get caught. You were born in the suburbs for fucks sake, you weren’t some Russian spy.
“All I’m saying is that Matthews is pretty fucking powerful, the type of power where he can get your friends and boss here to offer you up to him on a silver plate. There’s no loyalty when you’re living pay check my pay check, or when you’ve got to put food on the table. The only loyalty then is one written in blood, or bank checks” The man says, winking at the last part.
“We can help, keep him off your scent for a while, until you can get out of here at least” the man says gesturing around the diner and the City itself.
That was the ultimate plan though wasn’t it? To get out of America? Maybe move to a tropical climate where your skin met the warm sun instead of bloody fists. Something was keeping you here, and you spent years trying to understand what.
“By protection you mean surveillance that goes over every single human boundary ever created” You grumbled hands now crossed against your chest.
The man nods honestly,
“More or less, at least then you’ll get some sleep” The man replies, pointing out the bags hanging under your eyes.
“Well how am I supposed to do that when I’ve got him watching me every single minute of the day” You snap, before your eyes widen in shock. You didn’t meant to get angry, least of all at the man who probably has a pistol between in his waistband.
You wait for the man to scream, to feel his rough fingers around your throat, or the bruising force of his fists. It never comes, instead he laughs, fucking laughs.
It’s authentic, the way the baritone sounds leaves his chest ceremoniously, a hand gripping his chest and his curls fall in front of his face at his movements.
It’s beautiful and from the moment it leaves his mouth you love it. But he laughs, the most innocent thing in the entire world and you flinch. You fucking flinch.
You already know he notices it as he stops his chuckles, hands coming to press against his brows, and running down his scalp to brush his strands back.
“He’s coming, later on, to pick you up and take you back to your apartment, don’t fight me on it or else it’s my ass on the line” The man finalises, before reaching out with an expectant hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you..?” He says expectantly
You mumble your name tiredly and you grip his hand, shaking it.
“Bucky” The man’s nods, before getting up from the booth.
“Your got to be something to have Steve acting like this, and for your sake, youd better hope it’s fucking spectacular” The man says, before shelving over a couple dollar bills.
“Keep the change” The man calls before exiting through the diner doors, engulfed by the darkness cloud of fog and rain, the cool city air escaping into the warm diner behind him.
You look down at the coffee mug sitting like warm across from you, still filled to the brim and left un drunken, the only indication of his presence.
You sigh as you get up from your seated the position, the booth warm from your time spent talking. You look towards the clock, signalling you’ve spent well over 30 minutes with the man, and you turn to expect your manager tumbling down the isles to find you and demand answers to your absence.
But instead, her head is down, the deep auburn braids peeking from under the counter. Weird, she’s never not taken up the chance to berate your very presence, and instead she’a jotting down inventory records.
You don’t want to believe it but you know it’s connected to the man that was just here moments ago, or more specifically the man from earlier this week.
Collecting the bills left on the table, you place them into the cash register, before going to clear away his plates. This was going to be a long night.
You try not to notice the headlights shining through the blinds of the diner windows, or even the roar of an engine pulling up onto the front of the restaurant as you jot down the last of the young man’s order.
You were just about to close when a group of drunken but good natured college boys walked, or more like stumbled in.
You weren’t mad in any way, at least it gave your mind something to occupy itself with instead of conversation between you and Bucky from earlier.
Yelling the orders at Daniel, his brown hair bobbing to his stereo, your met with his thumbs up popping out of the bustling kitchen. You giggle to yourself at his antics, if you had to rely on one thing of normalcy in your life it was Daniel.
The familiar jingle of the diner door has you bristling, the note of between your hands crinkle as your hands grip them anxiously. You don’t know why your scared, it isn’t like you hadn’t been warned.
The man loud steps seem to purposeful against the floor of the crumbling diner, he’s incredibly out of place against the old fashioned terriselss and red and white booths. Even the drunken crows notices him, eyes surveying his expensive coat and shiny boots, before quickly looking away as the catch glimpses of his rings and blond tussles.
You pretend to occupy yourself with refilling straw and napkin dispensers, wiping down the tables that were already shining and keeping your head and most importantly your eyes, away from the tall brooding man.
You catch the front of his dress shoes pointed towards your crouched frame over the diner table. He clears his throat loudly when he notices you make no move to acknowledge his present.
“You’re a tough girl to catch aren’t you?” Is the first thing the man says in that deep gruff voice of his. His words seem sweetened like he’s said them behind a smile.
“No, not at all, I’m just..busy” You reply, leaning over further to wipe the cloth against the sides of the booth.
Steve hums, hands stuffed into his suit pants as he watches you carefully
“You sure? From where I’m at it seems like you’re..avoiding me” Steve says
“Well it’s kind of hard to get the courage to phone up a likley criminal mastermind that probably has connections to my husband and who would undoubtedly deliver me to him if given the right number.” You reply hastily.
Steve moves quickly to catch your hands, stopping your movements as he turns you towards his towering figure looming over you.
“I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t ever hurt you, you have to trust me” Steve says, a strange look you can’t place takes over his features, the frost behind his blues melt a little and his jaw relaxes before it leaves just as quickly. A hardened expression resting on his face again, and Steve drops your hands, where they rest folded at your stomach.
“How can I?, I’m sorry but I don’t even know you, and if I let another man take me, I’ll, I won’t ever forgive myself” You bristle.
Steve looks far off, blue orbs darkening at your candor as he watches the lights of cars flash against the frosted windows.
“Just let me help you, I’m sure Bucky told you why I’m here, and I’ve gone to lengths I can’t even mention to even speak to you” Steve says
“Why? I’m not special, I just don’t understand why someone like you would do with the likes of me” You reply exasperated, flinching as a David calls the order out.
“I have my reasons, reasons I can’t say right now but can only be explained if you let me take you home” Steve murmurs, you noticed a concerned look take over his features for a second, before the seriousness of this “deal” remains.
“And only if I accept your help” You say, you knew this world through and through, everything had a “but” and a catch. This wouldn’t be any different, would it?
Steve nods honestly, and you turn to throw the dirty wash cloth into the basin behind the counter.
“ I ain’t got long doll, let’s get going” Steve replies impatiently, you understood from your conversation with Bucky earlier that Steve was a man that always got what he wanted. There was little room for negotiation with the blond but you would be damned to make Daniel walk the plate he’d just slaved over to the crowd of huddled 21 year olds.
“Let me finish this order will you? If I’m getting into an unmarked vehicle to lead to my possible death, atleast let me get some good tips” You reply, and for the first time, Steve looks anywhere but you, noticing the huddle of hungry and slightly sober boys.
“Okay, okay” Steve replies acting defeated, as he sits on a barstool across from the counter. Eyes watching your mundane movements of service and food handling, and yet no saying a single word.
You juggle multiple plates, brushing off Steve’s attempts to help and successfully deliver them to the patrons, who gleefully thank you loudly. Slurring praises of Jesus, and Hallelujah, as they shovel waffles and fried chicken into their mouths.
Drunk college boys, either your best or worst nightmare.
Steve doesn’t let you clear their plates as he stands expectantly, you catch his eyes blaring into your manager from the corner of your peripheral. His face hardens into something like stone, and it’s as if his exchanged something without saying a word.
Your manager nods, walking back into the office, your bag is waiting for you on the counter and you reach for it before Steve is grabbing it instead. A hand coming up to silence your protests.
You follow his foot steps without a word, eyes looking back at your manager who’s staring right at you, a grim look on a face that screams pity. Like watching a lamb being carried to the slaughter, or more like willingly walking in.
You don’t know what Steve has told her, or not told her, but it seems he has more power than you first realised, your boss never let you off early, sure she’s let you take a day off but leaving early? Never. You’d had to be bent of and heaving before she’s pay you for half the shift.
It scares you, you don’t quite know what your walking into following this man, the the truth of its danger follows you like a shadow, every step pressed into the floor by blood and crime is a step you fall into.
You’re staining yourself with whatever it is he is knee deep in, even if you don’t want to believe it.
Steve opens the diner doors gently, letting you pass his chest, as he flips the open side the opposite side. A sleek black car comes into view on the sidewalk, it’s branded with a logo you don’t recognise but you understand it’s expensive, the kind of car where they give you shampgane when you buy it.
You don’t know why but you don’t see Steve as a man who would willingly drink champagne, the image of him holding a flute has you fighting back giggles, no, he was most defiantly the time to like bourbon or some other old fashioned liquor.
Opening the passenger door, you take a moment to look back at the diner, the low warm lights giving it a sense of home that you never found at your apartment. The crowd of boys are now singing unabashedly, stale and oily fries left on messy plates.
You hated it but it was the best thing that ever happened to you..since, well, since forever. It was gruelling and tough and not half the amount of work it took but it was yours wasn’t it? It was something you earned and kept only for you, that pay check was written in your name, not your mothers, not your husbands, yours.
Atleast you got a taste of what freedom would be like, a small glimmer of what you could’ve been if happened, hadn’t.
The inside of Steve’s car is even more opulent than its exterior, blue lighting outlining the inside of the car, and tinted windows hiding you from view.
“As much as you think you useless and naive to the word, the truth is, you're the closest thing to Richedson in his life, not his right-hand man, not his best friend, not me, you. Hell, practically half the underworld didn't even know he was married for the better part of 2 years”. Steve murmurs, one hand on the steering wheel whilst the other lay rested on his thigh.
“He was embarrassed by me” You shrugged, it was the truth, even Steve knew it.
“No, I don't think so, I think he was scared that you would get hurt” Steve replies, eyes remaining on the gravel road as he followed the route to your apartment like the back of his head. It should scare you, but it doesn't, and that, that scares you.
“He couldn't care less of me, much less try and protect me from the world he married me into. Besides, whatever cruelty he tried to shield me from, he already exposed me to it himself” You reply hastily, turning your body so that you faced the door, eyes boring into the concrete sky scrapes flashing mirages against the tinted windows.
As if sensing your apprehension, Steves recognises to drop it and instead tries to tell you the reasons from earlier.
“The throne your husband sits on grants him a lot of power, enough to have half of New York at their knees. And with him as unstable as he is, it would lead to more people getting hurt, and most importantly this realm, this life, ripped open for the world to see” Steve says
“He's always been unstable, you of all people should know that” You reply, scoffing. The cracks in your husband's mind enable him to get to where he was today, it enabled him to look past the shackles of morality that kept so many from reaching their full potential as he would say.
“Not like this, no not the way he's behaving now, there's traditions and sacrifices you have to make to survive in this life, that I understand, but the cracks that have always been in him are starting to show, they're starting to crumble the things me and so man other people have built. He's going off the rails, and this time I don't think even you can reel him in” Steve reasons, turning into your apartment car pack with the palm of his hand in one swift turn.
You bristle as that, your husband has always been off, you'd noticed it the first time and you'd accepted it the last, but at least he was always predictable with the lengths he would go to for more power, more authority, more money.
“You're saying the killings could get worse? The blood? The death? You're saying he could get worse?” You say exasperated, your eyebrows furrow as you wait for Steve to reply. You didn't think he could get worse.
Running a hand down his face, Steve roughly pulls his strands back behind his ears before choosing his words carefully.
“I can't say much that won't get you killed, but he's spiralling, and he’s going to take us all down with him unless we do something unless you do something”. Steve says, pushing the hand break up as he turns to you.
You shut your eyes, squeezing them as you slump against the leather seats. Your mind wrestled as it took in all of this, even now, you would never escape your husband? Wouldn't you? Did the fate of the underworld really rest on your shoulders? You want to say no, to jump out of the car and run back to the safety of your apartment but you can't stop the flashes of the 17-year-old boy whose screams still haunted you all these years later. He would've been 21 now, likely to have walked into your diner with those boys from earlier, and most importantly alive, not buried in a shallow grave.
“Okay,” You mutter quietly, so quietly that if Steve didn't have those golden ears of his he would've missed it.
“Okay? You sure?” Steves asks again to make sure he's heard you correctly.
“Okay. Okay ill tell you what I know in exchange for protection. This is what it is right? Purely transactional?” You reply, expectantly.
Steve nods following your words, bringing his palm up to shake your own. It's surprisingly soft, his fingers, like the death and cruelty of his actions, haven't yet spoiled them.
“Just like a business” Steve mutters sparing a glance at you, the same strange expression from before, you both hold onto the grasp longer than a handshake should be. And you find yourself dropping it suddenly, before rubbing your hands against your thigh.
You reach behind the seats, grab your bag and reach for the car door, before Steve’s rough warning stops you, the deep don’t bounce off the car roof and jostles you in your sleep. You know he cants help it, but you catch glimpses of the mafia king just in that one word. You understand what he's able to to, what he's done to get here and most importantly what he’d do if you don't agree.
Steve walks around the car, before opening the door for you, you look down self-consciously.
“You know you don't have to do all that, open doors and stuff,” You say, following his steps to your apartment door.
You had never been the recipient of chivalry. You didn't get to experience the soft, innocent love everyone else did in high school, skipping straight into marriage with a mafia boss. It was pathetic now that you think about it, but you'd never been romanced, much less felt what love could be.
“I know,” Steve says, hands shoved into his pockets, but you don't let him finish speaking before you continue your heated ramble.
“I mean it, I'm not some prissy princess who needs to have her hand held every minute,” You say, searching for your keys at the bottom of your bag, before struggling to open your door.
The lock always seemed to jam wherever you tried to enter your apartment, to the point where you had to shoulder your way into your hallway to get in.
Steve reaches for the keys between your fingers, pushing it into the lock and opening the door with ease. His fingers didn't even seem to strain as slammed the door against your wall.
Looking up through hooded eyes, you catch his blues darken as he looks down, your face chest centimetres away from his chest,
“I know, trust me doll, I know” He whispers to you, and you have to pull your eyes away before moving past him, plopping your belongings onto your velvet couch.
Steve leans against the door frame, his tall length seems almost comical compared to the height of your living space, you were sure he'd have to duck to even enter.
You don't want him to enter, do you?
“Just get some sleep, ill swing by later to iron out the formalities” Steve replies, watching you carefully.
Stepping out of your high heels, you snort, calling loudly with your back to him
“Just like business!” You say with your back to him, untying your apron covered in oil and spills.
Steve smiles, amusement lighting up his features as he nods, leaning against the door
“Just like business” He mutters, before shutting the door, and making his way down the crumbling concrete steps.
He steps into the sleek black vehicle that looks out of place against the beat-up Toyota Camry that’s never left, and the busted bike with stolen tires.
You don't notice, but Steve only pulls out when he's sure you've done exactly what he's said, your figure behind pulled curtains scurrying around your room, causing a small smile to pull at his lips.
And he doesn't notice, or at least you think he doesn't, as you peer through yellow curtains, watching his car recede into the distance, the winter moon was now high in the sky, casting a light for his route as the engine of his car roared against the asphalt roads.
This was it, you'd just made a deal with the devil, and you were already elbows deep. You wonder which one would've killed you faster? Being on the run, or being tied up in his twisted games, falling into the depth of Steve Rogers before it swallowed you whole.
Taglist
wanna be apart of my Taglist? shoot me an ask!
@stupendouslovegardener @patzammit @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @tinkerbelle67 @euphoric-goddess @namelesssav @roseeatta @shamelessfangirl-3 @nessie2183 @marvel-phoenix
#bucky barnes#james bucky barnes#steve rogers x reader#neonovember#steve rogers fic#mafia!au#mafia!bucky barnes#mafia!steve rogers x reader#mafia!bucky barnes x reader#mafia!steve rogers#mob!steve rogers x innocent!reader#mob!steve rogers x fem!reader#mafia!steve rogers x fem!reader#mafia!bucky barnes x fem!reader#mob!bucky x fem!reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x innocent!reader#mafia!steve x innocent!reader#steve x naive!reader#mob!steve rogers x black!reader#mafia!steve x black!reader#mob!au
510 notes
·
View notes
Text
west coast, best coast (b.r.b.)
a/n: i cooked this up a few weeks ago and as usual @gretagerwigsmuse encourages me to write literally every thought that pops into my brain.
summary: Bradley shows Sunshine why the West Coast is the best coast.
or: the sunrise fic
flight risk masterlist
warnings: future Bradley and Sunshine, west coast best coast always, kylie wrote fluff who is she, unedited
word count: 1k
Something nudges you, drawing you from your sleep, but you figure Bradley must be moving so you shift, tucking your head into the pillow.
He nudges you again, followed by a whispered, “Sunshine?”
You groan, lifting your head and blearily blinking your eyes open. “What Bradley?”
“C’mon, I wanna go for a drive.”
After pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes in an attempt to ground yourself and wake up, you blink once more, realizing it’s still dark outside. “Wha- Bradley, the sun isn’t even up yet.”
“Exactly.”
You chance a look at him. He’s clad in black sweats, a UVA crewneck thrown on. “’M going back to bed.” You mutter, rolling over on the bed.
“Sunshine, no, nope, c’mon.” He says, reaching out from your arm and rolling you back to face him. “C’mon, get up. Humor me just this once.”
“Our entire relationship is me humoring you.”
He huffs in an attempt to be annoyed but the grin on his face is giving him away. “Let me do something nice for you. ‘Specially after your bad week.”
You huff, finally sitting up in bed. “And your idea of doing something nice for me is getting me up at the ass crack of dawn?”
“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
You throw your legs over the side of the bed, standing up. “It better be Bradshaw.”
-
“Why are we at the beach?” You ask, squinting. Bradley puts the car into park, the volume of his playlist titled beach drives lowering. “And why’d we have to stop to get burritos?”
“It’s not a beach trip without a breakfast burrito from San Diego’s finest hole-in-the-wall taco shop.” He responds, turning the key in the ignition off. “This is why I told you to grab a sweatshirt. C’mon.”
You sigh, pulling the passenger door open, grabbing the burritos as you do. Bradley throws open the trunk, grabbing some blankets. He shifts the blankets into one arm, interlocking his fingers with yours as the two of you walk down towards the beach.
The parking lot at Mission Beach is just outside of Belmont Park and while it would normally be a nightmare to find a spot, the beach a crowded and littered mess, it’s currently deserted save for a few of the surfers. Bradley leads you mid-way down towards the beach before he stops, tugging his hand away to lay down the blankets.
Once he deems the blankets perfect, the two of you sit. The sand is cool against your toes as you wiggle your shoes off before bringing your legs in to be sat criss-cross. Bradley hands a burrito to you as the both of you shift, the sun barely peeking out of the horizon.
The rise of the sun is slow but peaceful. The yellow hues slowly turn red and pink at the edge of the water, color streaking through the sky.
You pause, mid-chew. Bradley’s got his head in your lap, having inhaled his own burrito as he keeps his eyes on the water. Your left hand is curled up into his hair, other hand on your burrito.
“Did you bring me out here to watch the sunrise?” You mutter lowly and Bradley turns, a grin spreading across his face.
“Finally caught on to my master plan, did you?”
You give a half-shrug, taking another bite of your burrito. “’S pretty.”
“It is isn’t?” He says, eyes never leaving you, even as yours turn back to the crashing waves. “Kind of like you.”
You duck your head, feeling your cheeks blush. “Stop.” You mutter. He chuckles, shaking his head as he also turns his gaze back to the sunrise.
“I used to come out here a lot in high school.” He says after a minute, causing you to glance back down. them. “To surf, you know? Early morning is some of the best times to catch waves. It was a way to get away, to not have to deal with Mom’s diagnosis. But then I stopped coming out here to surf and would drive here every morning just to see the sunrise, even though it made me late for my first period. There was just something so... so grounding about watching the sun rise. Like it was a new day and a new chance to get things right. Out here, it’s calm, just you and the sand and the waves and the sunrise. One of the things I’ve missed most since I moved away.”
You wrap what’s left of the burrito in the foil, tucking it into the plastic bag to keep it safe from the seagulls. “Kind of how I’ve felt about sunsets? The end of the day meaning there’s always a chance to try again tomorrow.” You nudge Bradley and he shifts, sitting up just long enough to allow you to lay down on the blanket and cuddle into him. “But I think I understand why you love the West Coast so much.”
“West Coast is the best coast.”
You snort, nudging his shoulder. “Shut up surfer boy.”
“Hey, you’d think I was so hot in my wet suit.”
You give him a skeptical look. “Is anybody hot in those things?”
“I make it work.”
There’s a beat before you both break into giggles and Bradley grabs you, rolling over so he’s over you, forearms resting next to your head. He’s got a soft smile on his face, eyes moving over you like he’s committing this all to memory.
“What? Gotta a little guac on my face?” You joke, try not to squirm under his gaze. You had never quite got used to the way Bradley openly looked at you with so much love, like you were his whole world. It still made you breathless and dizzy.
If anything his smile only grows.
“I love you Sunshine. So fucking much.” He leans down, pressing a featherlight kiss to the side of your mouth. “Thanks for choosing to do life with me.”
“No where else I’d rather be.” You whisper.
“You’re the love of my life, you know that? Never thought I’d find this.”
One of your hands finds his, intertwining your fingers with his before you press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I love you Bradley Bradshaw.”
#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x reader#top gun: maverick#top gun: maverick fic#flight risk
233 notes
·
View notes
Text
Void | Bob x Rhett x Reader
✦°．• Void Masterpost
Word Count: 8,400
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, Villain/Dark!AU, prophetic visions, verbal altercations & mentions of physical altercations, a dash of magic, edging, unprotected sex, comfort, themes of betrayal, heavy usage of Outer Range's hole and the ore that comes with it.
Brief Summary: You are the monsters they created, and they must suffer the consequences. But first, there are more important things that must be taken care of in the bedroom.
"Because it was your fucking job!"
"It was no one's job to be an experiment!" Robert's voice bellows over top of Maverick's. A reverberating noise that crawls up the walls and dances around your ears. An echo you'd be able to shake if not for the ice that has formed in your bones. Joints frozen with something akin to fear. Equally cold but...calmer.
At peace, even.
Chestnut shoes click across the tile, each foot perfectly timed, walking to an inaudible beat so smoothly that Bob's shoulders hardly bounce with his step. "I signed up to protect my country," his index finger jamming toward his chest. Once. "Phoenix signed up to protect her country." Twice.
So many people in this room, and yet Maverick is the only one speaking. His white-knuckled fist shakes as he raises his voice once more. Barking like a dog in a fight. "Phoenix agreed to fly the mission!"
Smoke smolders in the corner of your eye. Lurking up in the rafters. But all you can look between the open switchblade clutched in Bob's palm and his audience.
This isn't how this was supposed to go.
"She didn't agree to die." The walls shiver. You know this story. Yet this feels like the first time you've heard Bob utter it. "I didn't agree to lose four years of my life!"
No, no, no, this wasn't the plan.
As unfamiliar as you are with Bob's old coworkers—no, friends, you're almost certain that the one who reaches for Maverick's arm is Rooster. The only man you recall having a mustache. Certainly, the only one who has any grounds to stop him, but Maverick isn't hearing it. Shrugging Rooster's unwanted hand away, "We tried to help you, but—"
"You had me charged with desertion!" Bob's voice booms.
Time nearly stops.
Milliseconds ticking impossibly slow as that delicate blade flies out of his hand. Intricately carved steel dancing, catching in the light of the crystal chandelier as it twists across the room. A perfect dance that never loses her momentum, darting across a path with such precision that you wonder if it was practiced.
Until it strikes home in a picture frame.
Right between the eyes of a recently deceased Admiral.
Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, the plaque reads. You don't recognize that name.
The room explodes into movement before you can reach your next thought. Maverick surging across the room. The screech of his voice masked by the yelling of nameless faces that bolt behind him. A leader of a charge. His outstretched fist vying to snap those delicate glasses in two.
Plumes of black smoke descend from above. Swift. Sweeping through the crowd with an ear-splitting howl. Gold twinkles in the air like pixie dust.
It solidifies. A vaguely human shape that strikes Maverick from behind. His muscles going taut. Falling into a full-body spasm as he falls. Face slamming flat against the tile. Blood pouring from his nose. Boots squeal as his companions skitter to a halt.
Smoke fades into fog. That vague shape now an undeniable form. Solid knee digging into the fragile space between Maverick's shoulder blades, the other, cowboy boot-clad foot firm against the ground.
"Easy, Rhett," you don't like that eerily calm tone in Bob's words.
By the looks of it, Rhett's not too fond of being called off so easily. His brows furrowed as he steps to his feet, spurs chiming as he finds his place on Bob's right side where his vision is the worst. The result of an out-of-date glasses prescription that can no longer fully correct that astigmatism of his.
"What is that?" Someone's stuttering, his feet tangling as he backs up. Blindly bumping into the shoulders of his colleagues in his effort to get away.
Rhett's head tilts, his dark eyes meeting yours, deep blue still clouded with the ore flooding his body. But he doesn't say a word. Silent as the wind on an eerily calm night.
It is not a word or a shout that shatters the silence. Nor is it the thundering of feet racing down the corridor, Naval security responding to a distress call.
No, it isn't that at all.
It's a sharp intake of air. Boots clomping against the floor as Robert stumbles backward. Heels of his palms clanking against his glasses. Groaning low in his throat as he doubles over, a guttural noise that is too loud to be in this room full of his opponent. His enemy. Streaks of black raise from his forearms, veins bulging with it.
Your shoes are ungluing from the floor. Knees cracking as you cross the room, out from your idle resting place by the door, fighting against better judgment as you shove between the bodies of nameless pilots and backseaters. Your outstretched arms reach for those shuddering shoulders. Not here. Not here. Not here.
But your hands are going through Bob's frame. Your body as opaque as water. A flickering presence that can hardly be seen by the naked eye. Why now? Why here? Of all times for your body to start slipping out of this timeline, why does it have to be when Bob's eyes are flooding with that telltale black? Frantic baby blue irises dart across your translucent face, helpless. Until they too have been taken over by darkness.
"Stay with me," Rhett's hands appear on your shoulders. A vague contact that grows as his hands darken, gold flickering through the air once more.
But that can wait. You're not going to slip out of this timeline that quickly. It's Bob who he should be focusing his efforts on. "You don't need to—"
"'s gonna be worse if you slip outta here entirely," Rhett's palms firmly squeeze your shoulders; has already gathered up every molecule of you from where it's been meandering between the folds of reality. "He'll come out of it."
Bob's shivering body bumps against yours, moving blindly, "hallway."
"What?" Your voice blending with Rhett's. Two voices, one question.
Bob's shivering mouth can hardly form another word, his weight settling against you, and the strain it puts on your knees has you fearing that you're the only thing holding him upright. "Hallway," he breathes, voice hardly audible, "the hallway. There's, there's, in the hallway—"
"Rhett!" That voice. You don't recognize it.
But Rhett does. Shoulders stiffening. Spinning on his heels so quickly that they squeak against the floor. The very first to lay eyes on the stocky frame stomping through those double doors, his face so red it could burst.
Royal Abbott.
"Rhett!" He barks once more. His clenched fist bears that same inky darkness that is spreading across Rhett's skin. And here, you'd thought he was the only member of his family born with this ability.
"Don't move," Rhett's voice is low. A borderline growl.
And he needn't say more because the room explodes into a plume of black smoke. Dancing out from his sides, swirling and twirling around your bodies, wrapping you and Bob in a misty blanket that swallows you up entirely. Plunged into a glittering darkness that puts the night sky to shame.
"We still haven't..." No, no, no, why is your voice dying in your throat? "The documents—Bobby."
His clammy cheek squishes against your temple, flimsy arms draping around your icy frame. "This isn't going to work," he mutters, words that only you can hear, "this isn't...not with Royal."
"What do you mean?" Your voice breaks, "We can't give up on this now!"
But it's far too late for a debate. Bob's fingers rise to his lips, a low whistle washing over the silence. A calm tone that doesn't match the frenzy it sends Rhett into. Across the room within the second. Darkness spreads everywhere he touches. Through the air. Across the walls. Voices yelp and shout as a dull hum grows into an ear-splitting whine—the distorted sound of a weathered gate being opened.
The floor beneath your feet is no more. But you don't feel the fall. It's as if the world ceases to exist, leaving you and Bob to float within a dark nothingness. Your legs tangle as you draw each other in, arms wrapping around torsos and heads burying into crooks of necks, desperately clinging to each other out of fear of drifting apart.
Gold flickers. A dusting of a presence that curls around your back, cold nose bumping into the back of your neck.
"Rhett?" You whisper, and despite feeling the rumble of your voice in your throat, you cannot hear your own words. Lost to the void.
The arms that coil around you are familiar, strong, and bearing scars you've traced more times than you can count. Hands slip beneath the hem of your shirt, calloused fingertips tracing letters into the sensitive skin of your belly.
I'm here.
Despite this vast nothingness, you've never felt less alone. Safely wrapped up in the arms of the only men your weary heart can trust, the only place where the world cannot flash its sharp teeth at you.
Your feet settle upon solid ground, soft carpet squishing beneath your shoes. Home once more. Where a nest of blankets sits in the corner of the couch, pictures in frames hang proudly on the wall, and an electric candle flickers next to the television.
Precisely as you left it.
"You didn't need to call me off," Rhett says, in a muttering fashion that sounds more like a rumble than anything else. "I could have handled it."
"And what if you couldn't?" Bobby's sharp voice echoes through the living room and into the kitchen. Repeating over and over until it dies into crippling silence. A cruel sort of thing that is somehow louder than the words themselves.
His weight shifts from foot to foot. Rapidly blinking. "I'm sorry, I...." his bottom lip shivers, mouth opening and closing, fighting for words that do not exist. "I can't...I can't risk..."
But his knees give out before he can finish his sentence. Dropping so quickly that you hardly have time to dive for him. Weary arms catching his waist, too weak to do anything but slow his fall. Rhett's appearing on the other side, his face long since softened. Eyelashes fluttering a million miles a second.
Black bulges from the vein on Bob's forehead, your only indication of what has once again taken over his psyche. Jaw locked so tight it shakes. Sucking in air through his teeth. Falling into a full-bodied shiver.
You don't understand. How is it happening again? "Rhett—"
"I know," he's already got his hands on either side of Bob's head. Flecks of black emerge onto his skin, drawn from the mineral trapped in the very fibers of Robby's brain. Unruly and running rampant, forcing visions behind his eyelids and threatening to take over his very being.
You know that it's been growing. That the increase of this...this thing, whatever it is, has been eating away at him. A sort of eternal hell whose violent attacks keep his muscles tight and his eyes wide open for days on end. But you didn't realize that it's been this bad. Rhett's only removed some last Tuesday, and here he is again, two weeks earlier than usual.
Bob slackens. Free of whatever invisible strings have been pulling on him, and when his eyes open, they're themselves again. Not black with the time mineral, or a muddied mixture of it, just the baby blue that is as soft as he is.
"I can't lose you," he chokes, tone suddenly frail as he looks between you and Rhett, "Either of you." His shivering arms curl around the backs of your necks, drawing you both in.
And it's easy. Sitting here on your living room floor, burying your head in the crook of Bobby's neck, your arms tight around him. Rhett's wrapping around you two like a blanket, long curls of his hair tickling your cheek. A big pile of shivering flesh and bone that defies the will of fate herself. Souls from separate timelines, trespassing in the name of a four-letter word.
You could stay here forever. Pressing endless kisses to their cheeks, like you are now. Feeling the softness of Bob's skin and the coarseness that is Rhett's out-of-hand stubble.
"How did he find you?" Bob's speaking again, albeit not very loudly. A whisper punctuated by the reciprocal smooch on the tip of your nose. "I thought you were the only one who could control the mineral?"
Rhett's quiet, his head shaking. "I don't..." pausing to accept his honorary nose kiss, face scrunching and all, "I don't know."
You don't like that answer. Not one bit.
But there isn't anything you can do about it. Not right this second, at least. For now, you've got a bigger problem on your hands, particularly named Robert Floyd.
"Think y' can get up for us?" Rhett's asking, his fingers carding through the short strands of hair atop Bob's head. Perfectly kept, as if he's still got a strict Naval standard to adhere to. It's as if he has yet to find his individuality, even after all this time.
Weak, he nods.
It's easy getting him down the hallway and into the bedroom, where the curtains are still open, showcasing that grandiose view of the valley below, distant, snowcapped mountains, and twinkling stars above. As wild as a place can possibly get when you live so far up on this lonely little mountain.
Far too isolated, but it's the only place that can ensure you'll know when someone is coming.
"Need t' try gettin' the rest of that shit outta your head," Rhett mutters as the two of you guide Bobby to the corner of the bed, where he can't possibly miss the mattress.
Your head cocks to the side, confused, "didn't you just take some?"
"I mean, gettin' it all out," he says it like it's easy, some simple walk in the park, despite having never walked that path before.
Eyes darting to Bob's fallen face, you reach to run your fingers against the curve of his cheek. Some thoughtless little motion that has him nuzzling into your palm, desperate for the warmth of it against his skin. Not enough to soothe the wrinkles on his forehead, from the way his eyebrows furrow with thought, but it's a start.
You know what he's worrying about.
And you wish you didn't.
"I don't..." his head shakes back and forth, refusing to look up at you and Rhett like your gazes will burn him alive, "how do I...if I lose the visions..." His tongue too flimsy to get the words off, all but flailing in his mouth.
"What d' ya mean?" Rhett's taking the words right out of your mouth.
Frustrated, Bobby's head shakes back and forth, unintentionally pushing your hand away. "What if something happens?" His voice cracks. Suddenly frantic. "And I can't—and I can't protect you?"
On its own, your voice finally bursts through, "We'll find a better way." And you don't have a clue what that better way is, but there has to be one out there, right?
That sudden burst of hope shatters the moment Bob's glassy eyes flash up at you. Windows into his soul that must silently communicate his thoughts with you because, by the time his uneasy mouth opens, you've already heard what he has to say. "The visions are the only way I can keep you both safe."
...but is it worth the expense of his life? Being slowly and painfully consumed by an out-of-control substance in the name of protection?
Rhett's big, wavering hands reach out, no longer stained with midnight ink, as he takes hold of Bobby's wrist, guiding it up until knuckles brush against his scratchy cheek. You can't tell who it soothes more. "It's eatin' you alive," there's a hint of fragileness to Rhett's tone, "Please...just let me try."
Now your hand is being taken hold of, squeezed up against Rhett's chest, just above his thumping heart, alive as ever. His stubble tickling as he cranes his neck down to kiss your fingers.
"Okay," Bob lets go of a breath, and it's as if the weight of the world lifts off your shoulders. His mouth opens again, but his tongue fails to produce another word. Distracted by the way he's warily holding his arms out, a welcoming invitation that you can never deny.
Hugging him feels awkward in all of the right ways. Your cheek squished against Rhett's shoulder, half bent over as you struggle to squirm onto the bed. Three pairs of legs flailing, but your arms refusing to unwind from Bobby to help.
Four years ago, you'd hopefully believed that practice would end the bumping knees, sharp elbows, and clumsy limbs that don't quite go where they were intended. Unpracticed and out of sync with the two bodies sharing the room with you. And you're almost ashamed to admit that, if anything, it's gotten worse.
Almost.
Because now there's a confidence to the way you press kisses to Bobby's sensitive neck, and you're unafraid to meet Rhett's darkened eyes as you do it. You're familiar with each other. Can tell that the hand disappearing beneath your shirt belongs to a cowboy and the knee between your thighs is attached to a former aviator on the run from the police.
You've heard the story more times than you'd like to admit, but it still feels strange. That this gentle soul could be sentenced to five years in prison, all because he and his pilot were sent to fly through a time hole that didn't spit them out until four years later. As if being given a false funeral and losing a massive chunk of his life wasn't enough.
"I can see those gears turning in your head," Rhett's suddenly right next to your ear. Sends you jumping and knocking your forehead into Bob's jaw.
"Rhett!" You squeal, but it's too late. He's already laughing. So is Bob, for that matter. All at your weary heart's expense.
Soft kisses press to your skin. The work of two pairs of lips trailing across your cheeks, Robby's working his way to your mouth, Rhett on his way to your sensitive neck, teeth scraping against delicate flesh like a warning. What that could be, you're not sure because you're silenced before you can even begin to speak.
And you're downright melting into this familiar touch, noses bumping together, moving blindly. Your hands are roaming up Bob's chest, curling around the back of his neck, clinging as you swing your leg over his waist. Straddling him is so much easier.
Dully, you're aware that Rhett has stopped; can feel the way his hungry eyes eat up every movement. The way Bob's hands grip your waist, how you sigh and tilt your head, inhaling the sweetness of cologne that still clings to him. Drowning in the small, surprised grunt when you nip his bottom lip.
Thin, bitten lips part, welcoming you like a sweetheart who's been waiting for you to come home from a long day at work. Smiling and leaning up into you, his soft tongue twisting with yours in some lazy, practiced dance that makes your head spin. Breaking away only to gasp for a breath, then meeting again.
To your right, someone whines.
"Oh, I'm sorry, baby," you coo. Can already feel the way a pair of big blue eyes are drilling into you, no longer happy with just watching. But knowing what you're going to find doesn't make the pang in your chest hurt any less; Rhett's hands rest innocently in his lap, bottom lip jutted out just a smidge, eager to lean in and steal your kisses away from Bobby. "Did you feel left out?"
He hums, too content with this newfound attention to speak. Scratchy chin bumping against yours with every peck, four, five, six times, until he's been called down to steal from Bob, too.
It's times like these when you wonder how they look so similar without being related. The scruff of Rhett's jaw is a mere distraction from their matching noses. Bob's eyelashes are thinner, and his cheeks bear a dusting of freckles that Rhett only carries a sprinkling of on his back, but God, the blue gazes peering up at you are identical.
Until Bob's hips buck up against your ass.
Your gasp echoes, eyelashes fluttering, "Bobby!"
"I'm sorry," he grins, sheepish, "couldn't help myself."
But your knees are already digging into the mattress, grinding yourself back against him in such a way that you can feel his length twitch in his slacks. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you catch yourself wondering how many more times you will get to experience this. Your time is limited, cut even shorter by the furious hearts of men and women you don't know, vying to find a justice that will ultimately tear you apart.
To have Robert jailed in the name of setting an example that you cannot flee from the law.
To charge Rhett for framing his brother for his murder; who cares if he survived the attack? He lived, didn't he?
To return your weary soul to a place where friends are your closest enemies. bold enough to lock you out and leave you in the cold as some sick prank, refusing to speak your name to cover their hides.
Betrayal is a hideous thing; it doesn't start small; no, it shatters you into a million tiny pieces and asks how you could ever be so angry for what it did to you. Because you survived, and the sight of your soul bloodied and broken has made their warped heart feel a twinge of guilt. It demands forgiveness when you have none to hand out. It makes you question if you're allowed to feel these horrible things, anger and hurt, and something you can't quite name.
But these hands that roam your paper-thin skin, the delicate ones stroking your hips, and the strong ones roaming your arm...they have never made you feel so horribly. They have every reason to; they've been hurt, too, but the only thing they have ever done, from the moment they found you on the street, is love you.
"So, how's this fixing to go?" Bob asks after a long while, his head tilting as he looks up at you like he's trying to eavesdrop on the thoughts in your head.
You'd almost forgotten the ongoing plan to pull the mineral from his head.
Rhett hums, gingerly squeezing your wrist, "jus' keep doin' what you're doin'."
You needn't be told twice, thighs shivering as you scoot yourself downward. Far enough to feel the heated bulge between your legs, where you crave him the most. Don't quite recall when the heat in your core had sparked to life, but oh, does it burn brighter at Bob's groan.
The corner of Rhett's lip rises, transfixed by this show you're putting on.
Bobby's hips jerk up, pressing painfully close but so unfortunately separated by these layers of clothing. Why do pants have to exist? All they do is get in the damn way.
The two of you must have the same thought because you reach for each other's waistband simultaneously. Your practiced fingertips slide across the smooth leather of his belt, unfastening it while he thumbs at your button, yanking on the zipper. Rhett's boots thunk against the floor as he kicks them off, suddenly spurred into action at the sight of you two pulling the offending garments down your legs, underwear and all.
From the moment you're able to, you're back in his lap. Can barely think about the way that Rhett pulls your shirt over your head, too distracted by the soft glide of skin against skin. The glide of his cock against your folds, heavy and throbbing with the same need that has made you dizzy in the head.
"Ain't you two just a sight," Rhett whispers beneath his breath, never once tearing his gaze away.
"You can always join," you tease, delicate fingers reaching out to tap the tip of his nose if only to see it scrunch.
All it takes is one glance before Bob figures him out. "That devil's got a trick up his sleeve."
"Damn right, I do," now that he's moving, you regret opening your mouth. Because nothing good ever comes out of Rhett Abbott sidling up behind you, heavy cock resting against the curve of your ass, as he presses kisses to your naked shoulder. Gingerly working his way up your neck to that soft spot behind your ear.
Two of his fingers nudge at your lips, wordlessly asking for entrance that you happily grant. Tongue slipping between them, wrapping around each knuckle, lightly sucking on them in the same fashion you do his sensitive cock head. You know he recognizes it because he twitches against you, breath catching in his throat.
Bob's hands smooth up your naked thighs, the callouses of his palms catching on the sensitive insides of them, rough in the gentlest of ways. Knows what he's doing almost as well as you do, how to make you shiver and whine around Rhett's thick fingers, all from such a simple touch. He's yet to daringly reach where you crave him most, innocently roaming your body like it's a work of art.
You almost hate Rhett for drawing his hand away from your mouth, leaving it open and far too empty. But it's hard to be upset when he dips between your legs, dripping fingers dragging through your folts, across your aching clit, until he can lazily circle your entrance. Still aching from how they had their way with you in this morning, pushed to a limit you didn't know you had.
It's hard to tell who gasps louder when two fingers dip inside, your breaths intertwining into one.
"So tight already," Rhett murmurs, his voice darker than the midnight mineral flowing through his veins, "thought your poor lil' pussy would still be gapin' from us."
Bold, Bob's hand roams between your quivering legs, meeting where Rhett's fingers laz thrust into you. And you're certainly not expecting Bobby to push his finger in, too, but there are suddenly three within you. Curling to stroke at a sensitive bundle of nerves that Rhett has intentionally been avoiding.
"Soaking, too," Robby's eyelashes flutter at the way you jolt, his cock jumping against his belly. Flushed at the tip, heavy in your hand when you reach for him. You may not be able to reach Rhett right now, but you can play this game, too.
Your soft palm running up his heated skin, thumb swiping over the single beat of precum that has collected at his tip, not enough to wet him, but it makes him glisten all the same. Not quite the borderline faucet that Rhett is, making a downright mess on the back of your thigh.
Bob's other hand disappears beneath the pillow, fishing out the poorly hidden bottle of lubricant that certainly should not be hiding there. If you could see Rhett's face, you just know you'd find guilt written all over it.
For once, though, his inability to put things where he found them has made things easier. Don't have to quit stroking Bob's throbbing length as he pours the clear fluid until he's satisfied with the glide. Laziness enables more laziness.
"Do y' need more?" Rhett's fingers twitch in you, and the corners of your vision sparkle with a painting of the galaxy. Always seems to spasm after using those mythical abilities, briefly losing control of the unnamed ore that his body manufactures on its own accord.
At least he didn't make you see into the future this time.
"I think I'm alright," your tongue tingles in your mouth, difficult to move.
Their fingers pull away simultaneously, leaving you way, way too empty. But again, you've got the perfect remedy for that. Scooting up Bob's soft thighs and guiding him to meet your dripping sex, cock head kissing your loosened entrance. Their hands interlock on your hips, holding you steady; in the odd freak event, you slip up and take him all at once.
It's never happened, but they act like it happens every time.
If it has something to do with those visions, you're thankful you haven't witnessed it.
Just like how thankful you are for the gentle pressure of Bob's cock, his thick tip slipping inside for the second time today. Just big enough to make you weaken at the stretch, a whimper catching in your throat. Dragging against that bundle of nerves as he slips past, indirectly massaging against it.
Rhett's sinful hand dips between your legs once more, two fingers bracketing Bob's cock, feeling where it disappears inside.
The rain pattering against the window is the only thing you can hear; the three of you stunned into silence as you sink lower and lower on Bob's lap. Fighting to relax around him, pushed closer and closer to the border of too much when your skin finally meets with his. Flush against each other. Nothing left to take.
A shaky breath slips past your lips, heart pounding heavy in your chest. So, so full.
"You're shakin', baby," Rhett's breath tickles your naked shoulder, "needin' Robby that bad, hm?" And maybe that's why you're having such a hard time controlling yourself, shivering palms settling on Bob's sturdy chest, fighting to lift your body.
Only manage to lift yourself an inch or two before you're sinking back down, and barely able to match that when you repeat it. Exhausted muscles further weakened by the drag of his cock along your walls, rubbing right where you crave him. So good, but you can't fucking move, face wrinkling as your knees sink into the mattress, rising the smallest bit, only to fall back down onto him.
Bob's fingers swirl against your weary hips, "Having trouble?"
All you can do is nod.
Those hands rise, smoothing over your back. Only takes the slightest bit of pressure for him to draw you down into his chest. Laying against him as he digs his feet into the bed, searching for leverage.
And then he finds it, and he's thrusting up into you long and slow, and you might forget how to breathe altogether. Cheek squishing against his flushed collarbone, your eyes rolling as he does it again. Can only imagine what kind of view Rhett's got. It must be quite something because he's gone virtually silent. Watching in silent awe.
Maybe you'd be able to ask if you weren't rendered speechless by the way Bob drives up into you. Blunt tip rubbing right past those quivering nerves, punctuated by the soft smack of skin on skin, gradually quickening. Your hands are fluttering. Grabbing at the sheets. His hair. A little bit of both.
"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby," you catch yourself babbling. Don't know when your lips started moving or how to shut yourself up. It's too early to be falling apart. It's, it's...
"There you go," he's whispering in return, "does that feel good?"
Outside, thunder rumbles, the bedside lamp flickering as the wind begins to howl around the corners of the house. But you can't be brought to worry about potential power outages and how you'd clean up in the dark because Rhett's hands are smoothing up your thighs. Drawing your attention back to the way your swollen cunt spasms around Bob's length, the kind of thing that makes you shiver from head to toe.
"Talk t' him, darlin'," Rhett croons, absolutely entranced, his rough palms roaming up the soft skin of your back.
You don't even know what to say. Scrambling for words that you've forgotten the meaning of. But your fists are clenching around handfuls of the comforter as you push back against him, meeting thrust after thrust. Harder. Faster now. Bouncing your body with every soft smack.
"Come on," Bob rasps, and you've leaned back just enough to see the redness that's formed on his cheeks. He's lost his glasses, lying discarded near the pillows. Unfocused blue eyes peering down at you, eager to drink you in. "Talk to us, baby."
"Feels," choking on your words, eyes scrunching shut. Come on, come on, it's right on the tip of your tongue. "Feels good—!"
"Yeah?" That tone. Rhett's up to something, and you're too weak to look back and find out what. "Y' like it when y' get Robby's fat cock in your lil' pussy?"
Fuck, fuck, fuck, your head is starting to spin, cunt clenching needlessly at his words. Can feel yourself grow wetter, downright dripping around the thick length driving up into you. And there's nothing you can do but pant for a breath you can never catch, taking every inch.
Bob grumbles this loud noise that vibrates out of his chest and into yours, "Rhett—"
"Would be a shame if he..." Before Rhett can finish speaking, Bob is gasping, stuttering to a sudden halt, "stopped."
"Quit," Bob's shuddering breath cuts him short, "Quit rubbing my balls like that."
But Rhett isn't stopping. You can feel his thumb bumping into your skin with every feather-light spiral, massaging in this frustrating sort of way that makes Bob jerk up into you. Unable to do a damn thing about this torment without hurting himself. His hot breath hitting your forehead, flushed cock still throbbing deep inside of you.
"Shit, Rhett, that..." he pants, breathless, "that...'m gonna cum if you keep..."
"A'ight," and just like that, Rhett stops.
But he's not done.
No, now he's curling an arm around you. Gingerly guiding you to sit on your haunches, your heavy head falling back against his shoulder, still full of cock. Split wide and putting on a hell of a show for Bob's darkened gaze. Especially when Rhett dips down, his fingers slipping between your folds in favor of sliding across your clit.
"Rhett," you don't know what else to see. Repeating their names like an incantation, the voicings of a weary heart desperate for a promise of forever. The one thing that the world doesn't want you to have. So unfortunate that you crave it like a fallen angel craves the warmth of the heavens.
But Rhett's hands are just as warm. Burning fingertips spiraling effortlessly around that swollen bud. Has you clenching down around Bob's cock, squeezing him up against the frenzied nerves along your walls, crying high in your throat.
"Just like that," Helplessly grabbing at his meaty wrist, squeezing until you can feel iron bone pressing back against you, "Rhett, just like...just..."
Your tongue is starting to go limp in your mouth, and somewhere between the haze settling in your senses, you catch the way Bob's eyes roll back into his head. All from the involuntary massage of your pussy, desperately chasing the way Rhett's rubbing you. Heat pools in your lower belly, sending your skin prickling.
You're...you're...
Head lolling back against Rhett's shoulder, your eyelashes flutter closed. Heart hammering against your chest, feels like the entire room has begun to spin. Can't think of anything but the soft nudge of Rhett's jaw against your forehead and his soft whisper of your name.
"Cum for us, baby," he breathes, fingers working a little faster, "come on."
And you do.
Oh, you do.
With a cry that you cannot hear, the ringing in your ears growing into an all-encompassing hum as your orgasm washes over you. Pussy squeezing around Bob's cock, chest heaving as you gasp for air, head spinning off of your shoulders and up into the clouds above. And it's warm, and it's perfect, and for just a second, you think you might be able to see a bright light in the distance of your blackened future.
But then you're coming back down all too quickly, returning to your senses just as your weary cheek comes to rest against Bob's sweaty chest. His cock slipping out of you, still painfully hard and begging for attention.
Attention that Rhett's all too eager to give him, scooting closer, collecting their flushed lengths into one oversized hand. Stroking loosely at first. Spreading remnants of leftover lube and your wetness onto himself until every motion is punctuated by a sickly squelch. Knuckles bumping into the curve of your ass, the only indication you have that he's still moving.
Bob's arms coil around you, fingers kneading into your weary flesh, has to occupy himself with something. Breath fanning out against the top of your head, swallowing down a grunt you hardly catch. It's not what he wanted, but oh, is he not complaining, bucking up into Rhett's warm hand, jostling you in the process.
"Awfully quiet down there," it's hard to tell if Rhett's remark is directed toward you or Bobby, maybe both.
Bob's trying his best to talk, his head shaking back and forth, unintentionally grants you an excellent view of the vein in his neck, flexing with the motion. "It's hard to talk when you're—fuck, when you're..." his speech stumbles into a whine, and you can feel the way his belly twitches beneath you, "God, your hand."
You can't help but lean up and press your lips to that thin skin, gingerly sucking on the vein. And so what if your free hand reaches up, two fingers pinching a pale pink nipple?
"Ah—" He damn near jumps, body bucking up into yours, "Hey!"
It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Now that he's made one loud noise, he can't close his mouth again. A melody of breathy moans that could make anyone fall to their knees. Backed by Rhett's guttural groan, bucking up into his own hand, the meaty head of his cock bumping into you.
"I'm..." Bob's panting, "close."
Rhett stops. Not another word or warning spoken, as his big hands curl around your hips, pulling you up onto your knees, ass up for him. You already know what's coming, but you're hardly prepared for the aching stretch of his cock pressing into you. The glide smoother than before, still stretched and open for him.
"Again?" You squeak, voice punched out of you by the smack of his balls against your oversensitive clit. Not ready for another cock to fuck into you just yet, but he's already moving. Short, jerky thrusts punctuated by the exhausted wetness of your pussy, sent into a spasm of flutters around him.
Below you, Bob grumbles, "You don't have to tease me for this to work."
"I know it," you can hear Rhett's wild grin distorting the corners of his words, "but it's more fun this way, ain't it?"
His cockiness is short-lived. Karma, you suppose. Because he's leaning down, his body caging yours. Rutting into you a little quicker as he buries his face in your shoulder, muffling those soft grunts until he's stuttering to a halt, cumming in you with a garbled cry. And you're just lucid enough to feel the twitching of his cock, the heat that fills the deepest parts of you, pumping you full until he has nothing left to give.
"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Teasing, you tilt your head to look back at him. Wasn't quite anticipating him to be leaning in for a kiss, but the shallow peck is a welcomed gift.
Rhett's quiet until he draws out of you, leaning back on his haunches to get a look at the mess he's made of your cunt. His cum already beginning to leak out, threatening to stain the sheets again if you aren't careful.
"Look so pretty when you're full of us," he muses aloud, and before you can open your mouth again, he's nudging into you again.
Or is that...no, that's Bobby, who's sinking into you. A shiver wracking down his spine as Rhett guides him back inside the absolute mess they've made of you. Cum and sweat, and lube coming together to create this sickly noise that makes you shudder.
"Am I hurtin' you?" Bob's gasping, the edges of a Texas-born accent audible, and you genuinely don't know what you would do if he always spoke like that because it's enough to make you bite back a moan.
"I'm alright," reassuring both yourself and him at the same time.
That's all he needs. Jerking up into you without abandon, arms squeezing you tight to his chest, anchoring you to his overheated body. The softest sounds drifting from his lips, punctuating his every shallow thrust. But just as quickly as he started, he's tipping over the edge, stalling to a halt with a noise you can only describe as strangled. Filling you once more until you don't think you can possibly let them between your legs for a minimum of forty-eight hours.
You've hardly got the strength to lift yourself off of him, collapsing to his left. They're leaking out of you, coating your thighs in a sticky mess that you have no hope of cleaning on your own. Not in this century.
By the looks of it, Bob might be able to join you for a nice, hundred-year nap. His half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling, hardly reacting to the two fingers you're walking across his chest.
But he reacts when Rhett's rough hand wraps around his spent length—jolting, wailing, as Rhett's empty hand rises to press against his forehead. Wicked thumb massaging over that flushed, weeping cock head, right where Bobby is most sensitive. Sends him into a full-bodied tremor.
"Sen—sensitive!" Tears roll down his flushed cheeks, speech devolving into something incoherent.
The hand on his forehead darkens. Drawing some nameless black ore from the depths of Robert's overworked brain. Cruel, how such a thing can be such a gift to one man and a curse to another, destroying and building up innocent bodies without rhyme or reason.
It runs out. That steady stream of midnight fading away in wriggling splotches until it's no more. And it still might not mean the end of those visions. There's no way to tell if there's more hidden somewhere in his body, or worse, it may have begun to manufacture itself like it does in Rhett. Running rampant for eternity.
But right now, there's no more, and Rhett's letting go of his abused length, and you're both leaning in to press kisses to his clammy cheeks, and it's the closest thing one can get to perfection. Your exhausted mind can hardly find the energy to return to what happened earlier.
A discussion for tomorrow.
"Are you okay?" You whisper somewhere around when he stops shaking. Calm at last.
He hums. The best that you're going to get.
And he's quiet like that for some time. Virtually silent, reduced to grunts and offhanded chuckles when you decide it's time to clean yourselves up before things start to dry in places they should not. Three pairs of legs stumble down the hall and into the bathroom; Rhett's arms are full of clothes, you're fumbling with the hot water, and Bob's simply glued to your side.
"Pink or purple?" Rhett chirps, and you don't need to look to know that he's reached under the sink and picked up a handful of bath bombs. He'd use them all at once if you'd let him.
Without a word, Bob points to the pink. Conveniently, it's also the bomb with a toy capsule hidden inside. A mystery that will surely join the small shelf of collected surprises above the towel rack.
Somewhere between the fizzing of the bomb and a sneeze that nearly sends Rhett falling into the bath, Bob grabs both of your hands. Toying with your fingers as if amused by their shape and varying sizes. How Rhett's hands are massive even compared to Bob's, and how soft yours are.
"Do you think you got it all out?" He asks after a long while. Breaking whatever silence had fallen over the room.
"Felt like I bled y' dry," Rhett hums, his foot kicking against yours, vying to start another water fight, "but there ain't no tellin' this early."
That doesn't seem to be the answer Bob was looking for. Hell, it certainly isn't the answer you want to hear, either, but what can you do other than wait?
A clear capsule rises to the surface, bouncing with its excitement to be seen and opened. A small yellow duck with a misprinted eye that has left one half of its head coated in black.
"Looks like someone turned Rhett into a duck," Bobby chirps, twisting the adorably shaped hunk of plastic in his fingers. And now that he says it out loud, it does look like Rhett when he uses his abilities. Whatever they're meant to be called.
The duck travels into the bedroom, one way or another. You find it sitting on your pillow, staring back at you with its singular eye like it's been employed to keep an eye on your whereabouts while Bob fusses with the security system. Motion detectors and alarms galore, monitoring every room and entry point that could possibly exist.
They act like there will come a day when someone breaks in, and you hope it's a measure fueled by worry rather than a vision detailing the worst.
But tonight isn't that night. No, just one of tangled legs and kisses pressed against sore skin and muscle and mumblings about plans of getting back into the Naval base. Get ahold of those documents that narrowly slipped through your fingers earlier. Copy and replace them before anyone is the wiser, keeping the originals as evidence of what happened. The only truth that can possibly force them all to acknowledge what they did to Bobby and his old pilot, Phoenix.
You wish you'd gotten the chance to know her before the hole took her life. Bob's recount of her always makes her seem like such a lovely woman.
"We can do it for you too, you know," he says, and you know he's directing it toward Rhett, because the evidence of the crime against you has already been collected.
The security footage of so-called friends locking you out in the cold, some grand plan to get back at you for forgetting to reserve the first cabin. A little "Oops, it's annoying to be forgotten, isn't it?" that left you stranded in the worst blizzard the state had seen in decades. Wandering through a perpetual blanket of white until a hole opened up beneath your feet and swallowed you up.
To think that they tried to cover up what happened to you, in the same fashion Rhett's family did to him, by pretending it never happened. Everyone in the house had simply forgotten the past twelve hours. No, we don't know what happened to them, officer; they just disappeared!
"I know," Rhett's cold nose nudges your shoulder; you'd almost forgotten that he curled up behind you, "wanna enjoy Perry in prison, a lil' longer."
Your fingers reach to run through Bob's damp hair; need something to do."Are you still showing up in the cell to scare him?"
"Absolutely."
The air is silent.
And then the three of you devolve into a giggle.
The drone of the city is one that swallows you up before you've even stepped foot into it. Flashing lights, squealing horns, and clashing of voices. People. Individuals with their own stories, purposes, and meanings in this world, crossing paths for the briefest moment, on their way to a better destination.
You are surrounded by more people than you can count, yet you might as well be invisible. A ghost that can be stepped through, only visible to a select few.
Rhett's hand squeezes yours, and it's the most solid you've felt in weeks. Maybe it's the kind of curse that applies to more than one. The three of you seemingly frozen in time as the world bustles about, never stopping for a second because the world does not stop for just anyone.
But it will soon.
God, you hope it stops on a fucking dime. Sends everyone reeling, a sucker punch flying in somewhere from behind. Rattles everything they've ever considered about themselves, the people around them, the higher power above, the world itself. Because America tells you that the only things worth knowing are those which can be known.
America is wrong.
You are worth knowing.
And you want them to hurt like Rhett did when his brother picked up his fists and beat him into the ground because how dare anyone make a simple comment about moving on. To feel the complete and utter betrayal to wake up to your father throwing you into the unknown, uncaring of how you plead for your life. Promises that you won't tell anyone what happened.
You want them to lose like Bob did when he and Phoenix were deceived. Convinced to climb into the backseat of that F/A-18, not knowing they were about to be sent through a hole that wasn't just some silly illusion. To be struck by an unknown substance that kills their best friend and forces them to suffer violent visions.
Return home after five years to find that you have been given a false funeral, your possessions no longer remain, and the Navy is accusing you of desertion. Any other way would force them to explain what happened, and a ruined life is worth the price of secrecy.
You want them to know what it's like to be betrayed by those they trust the most. Left for dead and not be given the grace of having their names plastered in the paper. Reduced to just another faceless person. A tragedy for one day, forgotten on the next.
Your eyes dart to the small phone in Bob's hand. It doesn't hurt to look at it anymore—no more bubblings of memories or invisible nippings of frostbite at your skin. It's just a cheap phone meant to do its job, and that is all.
Rhett looks to Bob.
Bob looks to you.
You look back at them.
Together, you smile. There's no going back from this, and that's okay. You are the monsters they created, after all. Bob's finger taps the crudely designed button on the phone.
Every screen in the city lights up with the same video.
Oh, what could have been.
81 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi hi! I absolutely adore ur work and I thought if u could write a nick fanfic ( platonic ofc) where r and him just discuss random things??? Tysm if u do!!!
Memories
𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 - Nick x platonic!reader
𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶 - you and Nick find a place that brings back memories.
𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 - purely platonic, swearing, I think that’s it
You and Nick had met in middle school and have been inseparable since. Although you’re good friends with Matt and Chris, you and Nick have always been closer, which has led to many many sleepovers at the triplets house.
Which was exactly what was happening now, you and Nick both stretched out across his bed, conversing while scrolling through TikTok.
Stopping on a thirst trap edit of Nick, you gasp dramatically, turning your phone so he can see.
“Lookin hot Nick” you giggle, knowing he hates seeing these type of edits of himself.
Rolling his eyes, Nick swats at your phone, biting back a smile. “You need to stop interacting with these edits y/n, your giving the fans exactly what they want” he jokes, now earning an eye roll from you.
After a few minutes of silence, Nick locks his phone, putting it down on the bed.
“Wanna go do something? I’m bored”
“Yeah I’ll get my keys, we can drive around” you reply, smiling at the way his face lit up.
Now downstairs, you slide your shoes and a hoodie on, shouting a quick goodbye to Matt and Chris.
“Where are y’all going” you hear Chris say, turning around to see him at the top of the stairs.
“Not sure yet”
“Can I come?” He asks, his voice thick with hope.
Before you can respond, Nick pushes past Chris, shaking his head.
“No way”
Seeing Chris basically deflate, you give him a reassuring smile. “I’ll take you out soon.”
Not waiting for his reaction, you turn around, following Nick out the door. You two used to go out all of the time, but as Nicks popularity grew, you guys couldn’t go anywhere without him being recognized, so you completely stopped.
***mini time skip***
You guys have been driving around for awhile, only stopping once for McDonalds when Nick gasps.
“What?” You question, confused as to what could be so important he physically had to gasp.
“Remember that park we used to hang out at all the time?”
“Um… yeah?”
“We literally just passed it”
“There’s no way” you say. That park had been knocked down years ago just to be left as open space.
Even though unconvinced, Nicks excited expression is enough to make you turn the car around, and drive to a spot you basically lived at in high school.
Parking in a deserted parking lot, you get out of the car, examining the old wooden arch you had walked through countless times.
Following Nick through, it’s your turn to gasp at what you see. “Holy shit it’s still here” you marvel, running your hand over the old wooden seesaw.
The old play set would be creepy to some, but with the joy it once brought you, you couldn’t bring yourself to fear anything.
“Well this brings back memories”
Agreeing, you walk over to the swing-set, sitting on a swing. “Remember when we managed swing me a full 360 around this?” You laugh, wincing when you remember the painful landing.
“Yeah, every little kids dream” Nick reply’s, sitting on the swing next to you.
You guys had come here every day after school for years until Nick got a job. Y’all had spent hours talking, laughing, and just doing stupid things, so when it supposedly got knocked down, your heart broke.
Now seeing it again after years, you couldn’t stop smiling, thinking about all the fun memories that came with it.
Looking over at nicks happy features, you close your eyes, happy it’s just the two of you.
“I’m glad we came out tonight”
“Yeah, me too”
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
My first Nick fic, I hope y’all enjoy! :)
XOXO - Zoe
#sturniolo triplets#fypage#sturniolo fanfic#imagine#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#nick sturniolo imagine#platonic#fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp
92 notes
·
View notes
Text
One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 08
"It would be kind of a dick move for him to make moves on a girl I brought home."
"Man, when has that ever stopped him?"
Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @siriuslymooned @cc-luvr @crypticsewerslut @icarus-star @desert-springtime @shady-the-simp
SATURDAY, 7:30PM
When they left the club, Y/n had her arm looped into Lola's and Clyde's hoodie was tied around her hips.
"Wait! Where are you guys going?" Snow held her hands up.
"They wanna hit the park for a bit. Did you want to meet back at the apartment in a couple of hours? I know Johnny is wants to get shitfaced to celebrate getting asked back for another gig." Clyde explained as half the band now stripped out of their sweaty clothes and tossed in their instruments.
"Yeah that works. Y/n are you going with the sweaty boys or do you wanna come with us to Plastics?" Snow offered but she looked over at Clyde.
"Actually I think I want to see the skate park. Maybe get a few photos." She released Lola's arm after receiving a kiss on the cheek and looped her arm into Clyde's.
"Oh wow that's a first. You ever ride?" Y/n hadn't gotten anyone else's name yet but she knew he was Johnny's guitarist.
"Not really. I'm not sure I have the feet for it." Y/n explained.
"Beau, don't." Johnny warned. Clyde opened the passenger door for her and she didn't hop in right away.
"What? What am I getting myself into?" Y/n looked from Clyde to Johnny who were both shaking their heads.
"Come on sweetheart. Take a ride on the wild side." The guitarist now known as Beau winked at her before jumping into the van. The boys changed out of their sweaty clothes and changed their shoes for the park. Clyde kept to himself once they arrived and pulled his board out to skate casually over to the park. Y/n tossed the hoodie into the passenger seatwith her camera underneath hoping no one would steal it.
"Do you know how to ride that thing?" Y/n teased Clyde watching him stumble.
"I can get around. Have you ever tried?" Clyde hopped off the board and let it roll in front of Y/n. She went to put a foot on the board and practically wiped out. Clyde caught her hands and she laughed.
"Okay if I break my ass, I will be so mad at you." Clyde took both her hands into his and rolled her on the board next to him.
"See! I'm not going to let you break your ass. You'll be going down the ramp in no time." He teased making her chuckle and become unsteady. She tightened her grip on his hands and he enjoyed the feeling. A rouge board slammed into the side of his board and Y/n fell into his chest abuptly.
"Dude! What the hell?" Clyde yelled at a laughing Beau while he made his way over to them.
"Come on man, you've at least got to teach her a trick. Don't just push her around like she's a toddler." Beau held out his hand and Y/n took it unexpectedly.
"I got you sugar, let's get you off your feet." Y/n glanced over her shoulder at Clyde who didn't argue with Beau as he took Y/n to the other side of the park. Johnny came to a stop next to Clyde and tucked his hair behind his ear.
"I thought you were feelin' her? What's up?" Johnny questioned.
"I do, I am. Beau's just being Beau." Clyde rolled his eyes. Beau had a habit of showing off to any and all new females who happened to spend a moment of time around them.
"Exactly. Beau's being Beau. You didn't even try to save her from him being a sleeze." Johnny pointed out.
"Well she wasn't exactly fighting to get away from him either." Clyde looked over at Johnny concerned.
"It would kind of be a dick move for him to make moves on a girl I brought home." Clyde watched Johnny narrow his gaze at him.
"Man, when has that ever stopped him?" They both looked over at the two as Beau held Y/n against his bare chest, guiding her across the pavement to try an ollie.
"What the hell am I supposed to do? How do I compete with a long haired guitarist with abs? I mean I fully plan to throw all his shoes in the dumpster out back that the homeless guy shits in but I can't make her want to hang out with me." Clyde looked defeated and Johnny clapped a hand on his shoulder tightly.
"Dude she got in your van. She smoked strangers weed and slept in your bed. I think it's safe to say she's into you. Don't let Beau being slimy fuck with you." Johnny might be an ass but he was a decent friend. Johnny skated off as Clyde mingled around the park trying not to sulk but when he turned around, Y/n had retrieved her camera from the van and started taking photos of him.
"Whoa...you shouldn't sneak up on a deaf guy." Clyde joked but y/n could tell his heart wasn't in it.
"I wasn't trying to sneak. I just wanted a picture of you lost in thought. You have a very soulful thinking face." Y/n smiled.
"Great. Beau gets the abs and I get the soulful thinking face." Clyde wasn't trying to be harsh but his self loathing was leaking out a bit.
"Yeah about Beau..." Clyde felt his heart jump to his throat as she stepped into his space.
"I know you're friends and all but do you think maybe I could shower when we get back? I'm pretty conflict avoidant so I didn't have the heart to tell him he smells horribly." Clyde let her words sink in for a moment before letting out a snorting laugh.
"Why did you let him get so close if you thought he smelled. He got his sweaty stank all over you now." Clyde leaned in and could actually smell her a little bit. She definently smelled a bit ripe and knew it wasn't her natural scent.
"I paniced! I tried to throw you signals with my eyes but apparently we aren't there yet. Next time, high eyebrows and wide eyes means SOS!" Y/n explained making sure to snap another photo of Clyde when he pushed his sweaty hair off his face with a smile.
"I will make a mental note." Clyde stared at her for a moment and she blushed.
"Don't think you're putting my hoodie back on once we get in the van. I don't want that dual stench permedating into my hoodie." Clyde teased making Y/n shove him. They raced back to the van where they fought over the hoodie and Johnny actually smiled watching the two of them. Beau had already moved on to whoever he planned to invite back to the apartment so Clyde and Y/n could actually continue their long weekend together.
#electrick children#Clyde#Clyde x Y/n#Rory Culkin#Culkin Cult#One Long Weekend Series#One Shot Series#y/n fics#8/18
96 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fw-herreria
FW Herrería-Rústicos & Abstractos
rim103
rim's World.
mykindofmagicx
non
hostinq1
Hostinq1
mtaartsdesign
Art Along the Way