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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 8 months

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Hii I was wondering if maybe you could write a Aemond Targaryen fic? Where Aemond is like Gomez Addams and he says, "Look at her --I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way --what bliss." With maybe even a taylor swift song? Thanks :))

EITHER WAY WHAT BLISS ( House of the Dragon x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! It makes me so happy to know that you requested my writing! I love this idea! He does ( lowkey ) give off this vibe <3

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Tully! Reader

prompt: Aemond is willing to die for the Reader if it means he'll get an ounce of her love.. ( The inspo was 'Gorgeous' by Taylor Swift. )

key: h/c = hair color, Dahlia = random servant girl, Evan Tully

word count: 2,000+ words

Brushing away a strand of white hair from their face, Y/n scans the rows of men, her eyes lingering on her brother Brynden. Her name day was supposed to be a small affair between her family and her bethorthal’s. But, the King was stubborn and insisted on having a Tourney at the very least. So, she’d be sitting through at least an hour of jousting, games of archery, and grueling duels. Not exactly what she wanted to do on her name day. But, what can she do?

Picking at her bottom lip, Brynden gives her a weak smile as he adjusts his armor, her heart clenched tightly. He could barely hold a sword, and of course, he had to enter a bloody swordsman match. Feeling Dahlia nudge her side hard, she snaps out of her daze, her cheeks flushing red from embarrassment. Shit. Turning to look at Dahlia, she tries to smile as the black haired girl continues to ramble away about something about men and their ‘walks’.

“I bet you my finest necklace, that knight. The one in black armor is really fine under that helmet.” Dahlia giggles, twirling a strand of her hair.

“Oh? How do you know that? For all you know he’s got the face of a donkey. How good he looks in armor, doesn’t mean that he’s that good in regular clothes.” Y/n scoffs, following Dahlia’s eyes.

“It’s the walk. Look at how he holds himself. A fine looking man walks with a little extra pep in his step. Like he knows that the moment he removes that helmet, girls are going to swoon over him.” Dahlia smirks, “Just like your little Prince.”

“Just because you want to fuck my betrothed does not mean that I wish to hear about it, Dahlia. Keep that talk for the other maids.” Y/n scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“I am envious that you, little Y/n Tully, are going to call that man her husband. The ungodly things I would do make him look at me the way he does to you. He looks at you like you crafted the moon and stars.” Dahlia rambles, a dreamy look on her face.

Scoffing at Dahlia’s teasing, she narrows her eyes at the knight, inspecting the black armor he adorned. His face was hidden under his helmet. Looking for some kind of hint of which house he was from, the only thing that was kind of a hint was the sapphire blue cape he was wearing. But, even then it could mean nothing. Tilting her head to the side, she didn’t like that the man was a mystery, why was he hiding? What was he hiding? Watching as he strolls over to Brynden, she stands up a little straighter in her seat, her jaw clenching. If he so much as touched a hair on her baby brother’s head, she’d make Maegor the Cruel seem like a baby compared to her.

“Brynden will be fine, Y/n.” Dahlia reasons, but her voice is weak.

“Brynden cannot even hold a sword upright.” Y/n argues, “Not to mention he’s got two left feet!”

“Well you’ve always looked rather pretty in black?” Dahlia weakly smiles.

“Dahlia!” Y/n scolds, shooting her friend a look.

“I know! But, at least he’ll look good dying?” Dahlia cringes at her own words, “I don’t know! I don't really know what to say..”

Slapping Dahlia’s shoulder, the pit in her stomach only worsens, her face curling up in anger and uneasiness. She did not have any other siblings but Brynden. He was her whole world. Her baby brother. She had practically raised him! She was the one to teach him how to say his first words. She was the one who taught him how to walk. She was there to teach him how to handle a horse. How to be a just and kind Lord. How to be the perfect husband. She did everything that a parent would do. Except how to hold a sword.

Picking at her bottom lip with her teeth, she slowly rises from her seat, pacing back and forth in place. She wouldn’t be able to stomach her baby brother getting hurt. It’d kill her, surely! Feeling Dahlia grab her arm, she’s pulled from her darkening thoughts. The taste of blood floods her mouth. Shit. Wiping her bottom lip clean of blood, she’s aware of the eyes that now shifted onto her. The maiden of the day. Aemond Targaryen’s betrothed. The sweet little Tully girl born with white curls. The Enchantress of the Realm.

"Ocean blue eyes looking in mine I feel like..I might sink and drown and die.."

“If that was your attempt to make me feel better, it failed..” Y/n breaths out, “Perhaps, I should just talk to him about pulling out. It’s not too late..”

“My Lady…” Dahlia tries, but Y/n doesn’t hear her.

“Do not try to talk me out of this, Dahlia. I will not allow my brother to make a fool of himself, or worse kill himself.” Y/n shakes her head, “I have made my mind! Come let us⎯”

“It’s your future husband..” Dahlia speaks through her teeth.

“You're so gorgeous, I can't say anything to your face..'Cause look at your face..gorgeous...”

Furrowing her brows at Dahlia’s odd words, the black haired girl turns her around, forcing her to look down. Shit. She finds herself staring down at Aemond, the mysterious knight in black armor. Her face flushes a bright red from embarrassment. The knight they had⎯Well the knight Dahlia was gawking at was Aemond. Staring at him with wide eyes, Dahlia nudges her side, trying to snap her out of her little daze. But, it feels like her tongue is made of lead. Looking him up and down, his long white locs are braided back from his face, but a few stray strands frame his face. There’s a small smirk on his face, as he adjusts his armor. Gods almighty, he looked gorgeous in armor.

“And I'm so furious..At you for making me feel this way..But what can I say? You're gorgeous..”

“Aemond..” Y/n breathes out, “You're the blue knight..I..I thought you didn’t give a shit about Tourneys?”

“I don’t. But, it would be a shame if I did not participate in my future-brides Name Day Tourney.” He smirks, licking his bottom lip.

“I..Aemond, could you..?” She chews on her bottom lip, “Could you possibly? Please watch out for my brother?”

“I will.” He nods, making her smile gratefully.

“Thank you.”

He kept his word, or at least that was what Dahlia was telling her. She hadn’t dared to open her eyes just yet. She didn’t not care if that made her a coward. She just couldn’t stand to watch the fights and not think about her brother while men pummeled each other with swords. Squeezing Dahlia’s hand tightly, she tenses at the call of her brother’s name and Aemond’s. Her eyes shoot open, her jaw dropping slightly. No. No. No. No. That couldn't be right! She must have misheard! Sharply turning her head to the fighting circle, she bolts from her seat, leaning against the railing. Her nails dig into the wood like a cat’s would. Her eyes are flickering between the two of them.

One of them would get hurt, she was sure of it, whether it be intentional or not. Her breathing grows ragged, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She was afraid that it would jump out of her chest. Watching as they raise their swords, she stuck in a trance as they slowly circled each other. Their swords collide, her eyes shutting tightly at the horrid sound of metal against metal. Biting her lip, she doesn’t know why her eyes peel open, but her heart stops in her chest as she catches the sight of Aemond falling to the ground. His sapphire blue cape slowly turned red. She nearly faints at the sight of red, he’s bleeding. Oh gods..He was bleeding.

“You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah..”

“AEMOND!” She shouts, the words escaping her lips before she can stop it.

“My Prince!” Someone shouts, their voice a blur in her mind.

No. No. No. No. Watching with blurry eyes as Maesters rush to him, she wants to bolt to him, but her legs are frozen in place. Brynden drops his sword, the realization creeping on his face. Feeling Dahlia’s arms wrap around her, it seems like the Arena explodes with chaos in an instant. Everyone is shouting loudly. Guards are rushing around in every direction. But, throughout the chaos her eyes are on him. Her Aemond.

“He’ll be okay…” Dahlia reassures, “Maesters are tending to him..”

“Take me to him.” Y/n breaths out, tears flooding her eyes.

“Y/n..” Dahlia nervously warns, “I..I don’t think we should. Not right now at least.”

“Take me to him.” Y/n repeats, her voice more firm than before.

Shooting Dahlia an icy glare, Dahlia chews on her lip before nodding her head at the request, a nervous look on her face. What if it was bad? What if he died? Would Brynden be punished? Gods, how in the Seven bloody hells did this happen? Following Dahlia, she picks up her skirt, her eyes searching for the white haired man that was to be her husband. Pushing past frantic Lords and Guards, it felt like an invisible force had her by the throat, squeezing her lungs and throat with each step she took closer to a bleeding out Aemond.

Seeing him laying on the ground, his chest piece was removed, his white tunic cut open to reveal the rather gnarly gash on his stomach. Tears flood her eyes at the sight before her. Covering her mouth with her hand, she rushes to his side, her eyes scanning every little detail that she can. His chest was moving up and down, he was drenched in sweat and dirt. That was a good thing. Looking at his face, his eye patch was removed, his hair completely unbraided and spread around him like a halo.

“Oh..Aemond..” She whispers, petting his sweat soaked hair.

“My Lady, you should not be here.”

“He is my husband to be, I will not be leaving.” She argues, turning back to Aemond. “Aemond, are you okay, love?”

“I am fine. Do not worry.” He grunts, clenching his jaw.

Staring into his eyes, she tenses up at the sight of his missing eye-patch. Fuck, he looked gorgeous with that scar. Looking up at her, he notices her attention on his face. Lifting a hand to touch his face, his face drains of color when he doesn’t feel the leather of his eye-patch. He had been purposeful in hiding his scar from the world. He didn’t want to be viewed as a monster. But, she looked at him with such softness in her eyes. Hunching over him, she casually places her hand over his eye, hiding his eye from everyone. Giving him a small nod, his breathing grows shaky.

“You dodged his attack. But, not like someone as experienced with a sword as you are, would. Why?” Dahlia asks, narrowing her eyes at Aemond.

“Look at her, I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way⎯what bliss.” He whispers, High Valyrian flowing off his tongue.

“You are a lovestruck fool, Aemond Targaryen.” Dahlia scoffs, “I hope this is the bloodloss talking.”

“What did you say?” Y/n furrows her brows, “Dahlia..?”

“He didn’t want to risk hurting your brother. That he rather he be the one hurt and not your brother. Come, let us reassure your little brother that he hasn’t killed your beloved.” Dahlia lies smoothly, nodding her head at Aemond.

Y/n looks between Dahlia and Aemond unsure, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t know enough High Valyrian to understand what the two of them were discussing. But, she trusted Dahlia enough to take her word for it. Opening her mouth to speak, Aemond grabs onto her hand, stopping her. Looking down at Aemond, her cheeks flushing involuntarily, her heart was pounding frantically in her chest. She wanted him to keep on looking at her like that.

“Go..” He nods, "I will be fine."

#hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of dragons x reader #house of the dragon imagines #house of dragons #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd x reader #hotd

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lunemai · 12 days

Text

•• -Mornings With You- ••

Demigod!Y/n x Luke Castellan

Summary - Waking up with Luke on your birthday in a cabin near the beach feels like a dream or at least it was going to be, until some people decided to interrupt.

Warnings - Y/n's godly parent is not specified, she/her pronouns, softness, talk of kids, kissing, no betrayal universe, teeth rotting fluff, marriage, and that's it I think.

part one - part two || can be read as a standalone. ||

•••••••••••••••••••••★•••••••••••••••••••••

The distant waves and the birds singing walking the shoreline are sounds you look forward to when waking up, this time, it was a different sound, a more annoying sound, a very familiar voice.

"I didn't even mean it like that-" Percy tries to say but is quickly interrupted by the sound of Annabeth's voice, "Yes, you did."

"Okay, you came to my house on this glorious peaceful morning to talk about your.. -marital problems?" Luke talks in between both of them. I can practically hear Annabeth's eye roll, "Of course not, we came to give your prisoner her annual 'congrats on not dying' birthday cake." right.

Everyone knows as demigods living a long and prosperous life is not guaranteed, therefore; congrats on not dying birthday cake. Though I think that's what every “normal” person gets, it's just very subtle.

“what? she’s not my prisoner.” I hear Annabeth scoff as I get up from bed and head towards the bathroom door inside mine and Luke’s room, quietly. duh.

“right.” Annabeth says, there’s a pause before Luke answers, “Right?” though he’s trying to be assertive it sounds more like a question than a statement.

there’s another pause before I hear that same voice that woke me in the first place, “So are you going to let us in or??” I hear Annabeth shove past him and Luke and head towards the kitchen where the boys also seem to follow.

since I can no longer hear their voices I finally enter the bathroom to brush my teeth and my hair, no one wants to look like a monster around Demi-gods of all people, might end up without a head.

coming out of the room I immediately hear the sound of Percy and Annabeth having a conversation about why having too much blue food coloring could ultimately be damaging.

Finally coming into view I see Luke making coffee with his back facing us and the soulmates sitting in bar stools awaiting their drinks.

Percy has a cherry muffin in front of him and Annabeth had buttery popcorn, in the morning.

“Oh hey sleepy head, I’m surprised your kidnapper lets you out of your room,” Annabeth says, Luke turns around with a coffee mug in his hand and leans against the kitchen counter while Percy simply awaits Luke’s rebuttal.

“Same, I guess I must be his favorite victim,” I say, encouraging Annabeth to jab at the fact Luke and I haven’t left our home in 2 weeks since our honeymoon.

“who’s side are you on?” Luke says with his brows furrowed. “The winning side, mine,” Annabeth answers for me.

I raise an eyebrow at Luke walking towards him, wrapping my arms around his waist once I reach him to look up at his eyes.

“Hi, baby.” He says looking down at me he places one hand on my hip, and his forehead meets mine.

“Hi handsome, you make any for me?” I say pointing at the mug in his other hand with my eyes.

he squeezes my hip his hand and nudges my nose with his, “Of course I did, you’re my favorite victim.” he meets my lips with a matching soft smile on his face, 2, 4 seconds and I hear a voice,

“Did you make any for us?” of course, it’s Percy.

sadly, Luke pulls away from the kiss to look at Percy. “You think I want you to have any more energy than you already do?”

Percy sighs in disbelief, “What energy? I’m a ball of sarcasm, not happiness.” Luke lets out a laugh and replies, “Sure Perse, there should be enough in the pot.”

Luke looks back down at me and pecks my cheek, “You want your ‘congrats on not dying cake’ or me and the beach first?”

with a soft laugh, I respond “Depends, who made it this time?” I say while turning to look at the two occupying the kitchen island.

“Me.” Annabeth says, and that’s all I need to hear, “Cake first then.” Percy shrugs and decides I have a right to say that after last year’s cake.

“I thought adding salt to things made it more flavorful or whatever, I mean they do it with chocolate milk.” even though he’s right, a whole cup of salt on a cake was not the right move.

“Right, but the point is not to aim for a salty flavor.” I have to admit, reading and following instructions will never be an easy feat for a Demi-god, dyslexia, and all that.

“That’s why you have to re-read things Percy,” Annabeth says while getting the cake out of the box.

Annabeth hands each of us a slice of red velvet cake and we all eat with glee laughter, and sarcasm since Percy and Annabeth are here.

“Okay, now that we ate and used dishes we don’t have to wash, Happy birthday prisoner, try to find an escape route soon,” Annabeth says standing up to hug me and put her dish in the sink for Luke to wash later.

“Yeah, thanks for using water in the only way I could never, Luke,” Percy says also putting his dish in the sink on top of Annabeth's.

“Don’t worry, I know I can handle water more than you, son of Poseidon,” Luke says gathering mine and his dish, to stack them atop the rest.

“Happy birthday newly kidnapped.” that didn’t sound grammatically correct, but I wouldn’t know.

“Thanks, Perse, and also thank you for not making the cake.” with a nod full of fake sympathy, Percy and Annabeth walk out the door with a last goodbye hug and a wave.

closing the cabin door, I feel arms wrap around my back, leaning against Luke I feel his chin on my shoulder.

“You know the beach will be here all day,” he says in between the kisses he’s now placing on my collarbone, all leading up towards my jawline.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one,” I say closing my eyes and enjoying the sensation of him making a path of kisses up my neck.

“so maybe, we should just go back to bed for a little while.” he finally reaches my cheek, and I open my eyes to turn my head towards his, nudging my nose against his.

“That sounds like a great plan,” I say turning around in his arms to put my hands on his chest.

“Yeah?” he says softly with a deep and passionate kiss following.

breathing heavily I manage to respond

“Yeah.”

notes: this is my first fic in sooo long!! i’m so happy to have this done, it’s 1,081 words and i’m so ducking proud of that.

Thank you sm for reading! I promise there’s many more coming.

REQUEST ARE VERY MUCH OBLIGED.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #pjo #luke castellan fic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #luke castellan fluff #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #luke castellan imagine

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aryxchse · 27 days

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hey pookie!!

firstly, CONGRATULATIONS 🥳🥳🥳 SO PROUD

secondly, could i get some love talk with my fav boy, leo??🤭🤭🤭

cabin three girly 🫡 who who just wants like silly goofy kisses, ya know?? like i just want to have a silly goofy time with my bf 🫶😖😖😖 (hopefully that’s enough info, if not, reach out, honey!!)

ANYWAYS I LOVE YA AND YOURE SO AMAZING AND DESERVE ALL THAOE LITTLE FOLLOWERS 😘😘

"leo, you're literally dying my forehead!" you whined.

"sorry!" leo said, quickly wiping the hair dye from your forehead.

for the past 30 minutes, you and leo were trying to dye your bangs blue. you already finished dying leo's hair, so it was your turn. and since he insisted on dying your hair because you did his, it all lead to here.

"you look so cute," leo giggled like he was making fun of you, placing a soft kiss on your nose. "i think it's done."

"yeah? you didn't left any places right?" you asked, looking at your hair from the bathroom mirror. leo carefully twisted your bangs on your forehead, which is the sight made him laugh loudly.

it was funny for you too, a twisted blue hair just staying on your forehead. you laughed with him as he kissed your neck between his giggles, keeping his hands away to not get any hair dye on your camp shirt.

the idea came from percy and annabeth, since they had matching grey strands in their hair. the reason it's being blue is because you love blue. and leo loves you, so he's down to anything you ask.

"we should wait like, around what?" he asked, lifting you up with his arms, careful enough to not touch you with his dyed hands. you sat on top of the counter, looking at your watch.

"40 minutes should be enough." you said, wrapping your arms around his neck lazyly. leo kissed the inside of your arms, leading his lips to your cheek. you giggled because his kisses made you tickle.

you guys chatted until the 40 minutes passed. you two almost forget it and start to make out, but leo suddenly burst into laughter when your bangs stick up to his forehead. you wiped his forehead then washed his hair, then he started to wash your bangs.

"people are gonna be sooo jealous lemme tell ya," he said, carefully applying shampoo on your bangs. "you look even hotter."

"i could say the same." you giggled. "blue really is your color."

the light blue strands shined in his dark curly hair, but he didn't mind. as long as it made you happy.

"alright, all done." he said, drying your bangs with the same towel he used.

"it's time to style it!" you cheered, chuckling.

you started to style your bangs with hair straightener. you smiled at leo and shaked your head a little bit to make your bangs move. "so?" you asked.

"very cute," he said, pinching your cheek. "how is mine look?" you looked at his blue curl that you did your best to style it like the rest of his hair. and to be honest, it looked so cute!

"aww, you're so pretty valdez," you said, holding his chin and kissing his nose. "look at you, like a barbie doll."

leo smirked and blinked a couple of times like a girl showing her mascara. "i know right?" he joked, you laughed and kissed his lips.

"let's show percy and annabeth who's the cutest with the matching strands."

a / n ; the queen wants the queen gets! and hopefully she likes!!

#arya's 400 follower event #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #all da ladies luv leo !#leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x you #leo valdez headcanons #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez imagines #leo valdez

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milaisreading · 11 months

Text

It's our girlfriend

Pairings:

Bachira Meguru x Reader/ Bllk 11 x Reader

Warnings ⚠️: So I saw a lot of people requesting for Bachira stories, so this is what I came up with😭 hope u all like it. Reader uses she/her. Requests are open.

⚽️Blue lock belongs to: Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

Bachira sighed for like the 100th time today. It has been months since he entered Blue Lock and talked to the outside world, he misses his mom, his home and his girlfriend, (Y/n). He just wanted to get out and kiss her again and again, but that was impossible right now, his only hope was the match they are going to have against the U-20 team. If they win, Ego might do him a favor and let Bachira invite (Y/n) for an hour or two. Chigiri, Kunigami and Isagi raised their eyebrows in concern at their friend and Chigiri spoke up.

"Are you alright, Bachira?"

"Yeah, you have been in a worse mood the past two days, than that one time Isagi didn't pass to you." Kunigami chimed in as Bachira groaned again and looked up at the trio.

"I miss (Y/n)." He stated simply as his lower lip wobbled a little, indicating that he was about to cry.

"Who is (Y/n)? Your sister?" Isagi asked, now even more confused.

"No, (Y/n) is my girlfriend."

"Oh." The trio said and continued their previous activity...for about 30 seconds until Kunigami spat out his drink and looked at Bachira in disbelief.

"You have a girlfriend?!" The orange-haired boy yelled as Isagi and Chigiri finally realized what Bachira said. The room fell silent as the players looked at their table.

"Who has a girlfriend?" Otoya spoke up as the trio pointed at Bachira, who blinked in confusion at Kunigami.

"Yeah, I do Kunigami. Why do you act like it's a weird thing?"

"Uhmm...well..."

"Bachira has a girlfriend?!" Hiori was the 2nd one to ask as Yukimiya pinched himself, making sure this was real and not some dream.

"Why are you all acting like that's a weird thing?" Bachira asked his teammates, offended by their reactions.

"No way you of all people are getting bitches!" Karasu yelled as Kurona hit him over the head. While he himself couldn't believe it, he knew better than to say anything out loud. There was a sudden silence and Chigiri, who was sitting next to Bachira, gulped in fear as the boy grinned and held his knife tightly. A shadow fell over Bachira's face, causing Isagi to flinch a little.

"You shut the hell up! You disrespectful piece of dog shit, want me to shove this knife up your ass?! Who are you to call (Y/n) anything close to a bitch?!" Reo and Niko's eyes widened in fear as Bachira got held back by Kunigami while Isagi and Chigiri tried to calm him down.

"Calm down, Karasu didn't mean it! You know he never thinks before speaking!" Chigiri said as Isagi finally pulled the knife out of his hand.

"Yeah, Karasu is stupid!" Hiori added in.

"Since when am I stupid?!" Karasu yelled in annoyance, earning an eye roll from Rin.

"When was your birthday again?" Nagi asked as he looked up from his food. Bachira was taking a few deep breath as Kunigami and Chigiri sat him down while Isagi took away all the knives and forks away.

"Bachira...we really do not mean to insult you, but you don't seem like the guy who would date." Reo said, picking his words carefully to not start another issue. Nagi nodded his head and was about to speak too, but Baro covered up his mouth, sending him a warning glare along with Reo.

"Yeah, you seem...more like a ride or die for football." Niko spoke up next and the room visibly relaxed a little as Bachira nodded his head in realization.

"Oh... I guess I do come off like that at times." Bachira commented as Kunigami and Chigiri let him go.

"Is (Y/n) real or another monster of yours?" Aryu's next question came as Bachira went dead silent. Gagamaru, panicking covered Aryu's mouth and apologized in his name.

'I am not dying today!' The goalkeeper thought, but subconsciously he and the rest of the team thought over what Aryu said. Could... could this (Y/n) be just an imagination? It is Bachira after all. The rest watched the said boy talk with Isagi, explaining how wonderful, kind and beautiful (Y/n) is and how he can't wait to see her soon.

"She also plays football! She is the captain of the girl's team in my school!" Bachira added, perking the attention of the rest.

"Really?" Otoya questioned.

"Aha! She is so talented! I couldn't believe she would pick me to be her boyfriend."

'Yeah... (Y/n) isn't real.' The team thought.

"There he is! Meguru is over there!" His mom exclaimed as she pointed at the boy while he was greeting the U-20 team along with the others in the Blue Lock 11 team. (Y/n) smiled proudly at the gold-eyed boy, wearing his team's uniform with his name on the back was something (Y/n) dreamed of for years, ever since he told her about his dreams.

"He looks so adorable in his uniform, Mrs. Bachira! And the uniform looks so good on him!" (Y/n) blushed as she took out her phone, hoping she will get a good picture of him. Besides that, she liked filming or taking pictures of her boyfriend, so that they can discuss his moves and where to improve. It was always exhilarating for her to watch him, and the said could be said about him when it came to (Y/n).

'Meguru... you came so far... show them what you are made of.'

And as the match went on (Y/n) felt all the emotions wash over her body, happiness, panic, anger, relief and a lot more she couldn't name. At the end, both her and Bachira's mom cried in relief after the final goal delivered, cementing Blue Lock 11's victory over Japan's U-20 team. They were informed that they could visit the team in the dining hall occupied by them. Bachira's mom decided to stay behind and talk with Isagi's parents and she wanted to give the two some time for themselves. She was aware that (Y/n) missed Meguru and knowing her son, he did the same.

"That was such a cool score, Isagi! You show off!" Otoya chuckled as Chigiri ruffled the boy's hair. Bachira said a few quick remarks from time to time hoping he will soon get to see (Y/n). I mean... Ego did say they are free after they ate their celebratory lunch.

'Come on... I want to see (Y/n)... she probably looks as beautiful as on the day I left... all smiles and giggles, ahh~ that laughter could cure any illness.' Bachira sighed dreamily, wondering how she felt about his victory, well he wouldn't have to wonder for too long.

"MEGURU!!" The room fell silent as the boy grinned and jumped out of his seat, running towards the door. Opening the door, the gold-eyed boy was greeted by a tight hug, coming from none other than the girl he was dying to meet. The team, dumbfounded and shocked, watched as the boy got hugged by a unknown and pretty girl.

"Who is that?" Reo wondered.

"(Y/n)! I was just about to look for you!" The boys' eyes widened at that statement.

'(Y/n) is real?!'

"Meguru! You were amazing! I was in awe the whole time while watching you!" Bachira felt his heart speed up, the same giddy feeling he felt on the day he confessed came back. His (Y/n), his cute, adorable, beautiful and smart girlfriend was complimenting HIS skills. Bachira felt elated, this was better than the actual win of the match. As he looked more at the girl, the more his face turned red... (Y/n) was so beautiful. The most beautiful girl on Earth, and he is ready to fight anyone about this.

"Meguru!"

"Ha? Oh yeah, what?" Bachira shook his head, looking at the pouting girl.

"I was just explaining to you how to work on your feint technique... were you listening?"

"Sorry... I kinda got lost in your eyes." Bachira admitted, not really seeing the point in lying. He squealed a little on the inside when he saw (Y/n) blush and get shy from his statement.

"A-ah... is that so..." She said back, trying to make a proper sentence as Bachira smiled in endearment at her, but his smile soon dropped as he felt something was off. Turning around, he noticed that not one, not two but all the players were looking at them in curiosity. Isagi and Chigiri looked at each other and got up, causing Bachira to stiffen a little and glare at them.

'Go away!' The look screamed but the two paid him no mind, more curious about the girl than they were afraid of Bachira.

"So you are the famous (Y/n), Bachira told us a lot about you."Chigiri commented as the girl looked up at them, at first her eyes held confusion and then she slowly realized who they were.

"Ah! You two are Chigiri Hyoma and Isagi Yoichi!" The two stopped for a moment, feeling heat crawl on the lir faces. The way she looked and said their names was just... just! In a blink of an eye, Bachira watched as the two boys now stood in front of (Y/n), and he was ready to yell at them to back off.

'You got to be kidding me?!' He thought in disbelief.

"You heard of us before?!" Chigiri asked in excitement as (Y/n) nodded her head.

"Yeah! You are pretty popular among my teammates, they talk about how fast of a runner you are. I never believed it to be honest, but you did prove me wrong today, Chigiri-san. Those sprints and passes were amazing!" The redhead blushed more at the compliment.

'A cute girl said I am amazing!'

"Did you hear of me too?" Isagi shyly wondered and (Y/n) squealed internally at his cuteness.

"Yeah! I heard a little bit of you from my teammates. That analyzing today was so great, I could only watch in awe as you delivered the final goal! How did you figure out the right angle?" Now it was Isagi's turn to blush and he spoke up, ignoring the glares he was getting from Chigiri and Bachira.

"Ah~ just instincts I guess. I heard from Bachira you play football at school too." Isagi spoke up as Chigiri chimed in.

"What position do you play?"

"Center forward."

Bachira groaned to himself as he watched her talk with the two. Usually any boyfriend would be elated that his girlfriend gets along with his friends...but this was horrible! The two were looking at his (Y/n) like she was a single girl and they wanted to ask her out.

"Bachira..." The boy turned around, his annoyed glare turned into a panicked look when he saw the rest of the team looked at (Y/n) with interest.

"Do you want to introduce us?"

"Yeah, don't keep us in the dark about the cutie!" And with that, Bachira was ready to kick Kurona and Otoya's

To Bachira's utter horror, (Y/n) fit very well with the team. She was able to strike up a conversation with Karasu and Otoya easily. Bachira had to keep a close eye on the two. He thought they might have a fleeting interest in her, but his hopes were destroyed when he saw the look in their eyes after (Y/n) gave them out a few compliments. Bachira was a little bit more relaxed after she shifted her attention to Reo and Nagi.

"She is so cute... too bad Bachira is her boyfriend." He heard Karasu comment.

"Who cares? Just be a homewrecker." Otoya added.

'We will have 2 members less by the end of the day.' Bachira thought, clenching his fists.

'Nooo! Not them too!' Bachira wanted to cry as he saw Reo's interest grow in real time. The billionaire heir talked about some random trip he did to a country and (Y/n) would nod along from time to time, but would start giving him tips about football by the first opportunity.

'Why can't (Y/n) be materialistic?! Reo would have moved on by now!' Bachira cried on the inside as her and Reo talked, it was obvious the boy took every word she said seriously. Now Nagi... Nagi was a whole new worry he had. The albino never cared about anyone or anything if it didn't benefit him. But now... now he was all ears, phone tucked in his pocket and listening to (Y/n), even adding in a word or two from time to time.

'I hate my life.' Bachira thought as Chigiri and Isagi kept saying how perfect (Y/n) was for him. Though he could hear the jealousy their voices, so he didn't believe they had his best interests in mind.

Aryu had made a few grave mistakes as he met (Y/n). The first one was looking at her (to Bachira at least), the 2nd one was mentioning how glamorous she looked and the third one was touching her hair, in order to give her some tips for haircare. Bachira immediately jumped up and slapped his hand away, glaring daggers at the tall boy. Aryu glared at Bachira, but soon it turned into a smirk as (Y/n) scolded him into apologizing.

Next up to fall victim to (Y/n) were Yukimiya and Baro, both boys were different but still fell for the same girl. Yukimiya loved that she was detailed and he loved talking to her about the different attacks he could perform. Baro would butt in as well from time to time, already calling (Y/n) his queen after she was whisked away by Hiori, Kurona, Niko and Gagamaru.

"Your queen? She is my girlfriend!" Bachira argued as Baro rolled his eyes.

"For now."

"Yeah Bachira! Standards change." The boy glared at Chigiri.

"For all you know, she might fall for one of us." Aryu added in and Bachira swore he was ready to play without teammates.

Hiori, Gagamaru, Kurona and Niko were probably the most respectful of the bunch to talk to (Y/n). They would exchange some football tips and funny moments they had on the field. The conversations were relatively uneventful, in Bachira's eyes at least. His alarm bells did start ringing as the four boys blushed and looked at (Y/n) in wonder.

By now, Bachira was sweating and ready to rip his hair out. Of all people who decided to approach (Y/n), it had to be Itoshi Rin, the captain of the team and the no1 ranked player at Blue Lock. He walked up to (Y/n) and introduced himself like usually, but was surprised that (Y/n) knew about him prior to Blue Lock.

"Ah~ I know and heard of a lot of center forward players. I like analyzing your techniques and incorporating them into mine." (Y/n) admitted in embarrassment as Rin nodded his head. That alone started a whole conversation between the two, it was so weird to see Rin relaxed and open to talk.

"Hey... Bachira?"

"What is it, Yukimiya?" Bachira grumbled as he tore his eyes away from the duo.

"When you and (Y/n) eventually break up, can you give me a call. I am sure (Y/n) will need a shoulder to cry on." Bachira gaped like a fish at the boy as anger started bubbling up inside of him.

"We are not breaking up. (Y/n) and I are happy-"

"For now!" Reo butted in.

"Yeah, be a brother and tell us once you break up." Nagi added in as the rest joined. Using this distraction, Rin and Isagi pulled (Y/n) out of the room in order to have practice with her.

A few weeks went by since that encounter, and Bachira was losing his mind. Every other hour one of his teammates would ask about (Y/n). What she was doing, what she liked, disliked and a ton of other things. During that time, the only thing that kept him sane was the thought how HE was the only one who got to spend a lot of time with (Y/n) and how she was HIS girlfriend. But today... today was just another day of him admitting defeat.

"You are our manager now?!" Bachira yelled as he was greeted by (Y/n) on the field. Thankfully it was just the two of them for now, so he had some time alone with the girl.

"Yeah! It was really sudden when I got the call from Teieri-san! I am so excited for the job! I will get to spend time with you and help you and your friends out!" (Y/n) cheered as Bachira blushed at her excitement. Seeing her happy made him always blush. Just as he was about to speak up again, Karasu and Rin interrupted him.

"You will be with us from now on?!"

"Really?!" The two asked in excitement as (Y/n) greeted them.

"Yeah! As of today I am the new manager." The girl explained as the two nodded their heads while the rest joined them. Bachira watched as his girlfriend got whisked away again and introduced herself to Kunigami.

'I hate my team...'

"Ahhh~" Bachira turned to look at Otoya, dreading to hear what he had to say.

"What?"

"Isn't our girlfriend beautiful~"

"She really is~"

"Mhm~" Bachira grew unnerved at Otoya, Reo and Nagi's comments and turned to glare at them.

"She is my girlfriend. MINE!"Bachira's words fell onto deaf ears as the trio kept on talking about (Y/n) and what they like about her.

"Are we talking about our girlfriend?" Chigiri asked as he joined in.

"Yeah!" They nodded their heads as Bachira looked at Chigiri in disbelief.

'I knew this would happen and I still let it happen! Nobody can resist her cuteness.' Bachira thought in misery as the four spoke.

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jeansplaytoy · 10 months

Text

dying connie’s hair with him!

afrolatino!connie wants you to help him dye his hair 💋, spanish phrases (i don’t speak spanish im trying my best pls don’t kill me), fluff?

“mamiii!” connie called from the bathroom upstairs. you exhaled and hopped up from your couch. “what?” you yelled back. “c’mere!”

you marched upstairs and went into you guys’ bathroom. “wha- what the hell you doing?” you frowned and leaned on the door. “i’m dying my shit, hell it look like?” he stared at you with the hair dye in his hand. you looked around and behind you in a ‘who are you talking to right now?’ way and he smiled and laughed, walking towards you and giving you a kiss.

“cmon, help me.” he said, sitting on the toilet and giving you the dye. “didn’t you just get it brighter connie?” you asked, grabbing the bottle of hair dye and one of your small containers.

“mhm.” he hummed. “so why… do you plan on doing it again?” you questioned while squeezing the red out of the bottle. “because, mami, you know that new Spiderman movie just came out.” he looked at you as you put the bottle down. “what does that gotta do with anything, con’?” you shook your head. “and i want a red spiderweb on my head. and you gon’ do it.” he said.

“i don’t even know how to dye patterns, baby.” you frowned and tilted your head. “it’s okay, ima help you. just look at this picture and then follow it, aight?” he put his phone on the counter in front of you and you looked at the picture. “okay. that looks… easy. enough.” you mumbled.

“so do the lines first, you see? and then add the curves after that.” he pointed at his phone and looked up at you to make sure you understood. “yeah, yeah okay, i see.” you said before you were about to dip your hand in the dye. “no, no, no, dios mío, mami…” he mumbled while grabbing your wrist. “whattt?” you looked at him.

“why the hell you tryna stick yo’ bare hand in the dye for?” he looked at you before pointing at the blue gloves that were right beside the sink. “you supposed to use gloves, bae.” you looked at the gloves and opened your mouth. “oh… yeah.” you laughed before putting the gloves on your hand. “aye, don’t fuck my head up. if you do, we goin all red.” he said to you as you dipped your finger in the hair dye and tilted his head forward. “whateverrrr, if i mess it up then you just gon’ have to deal with it.” you said, looking from the picture to his head. you started in the middle and trailed steadily up his hair.

“you doin’ it right?” he asked. “mind your business, and stop moving.” you said, dipping your finger in the dye again and making another red trail along his hair. as connie got bored of the quietness, he trailed his hands around your exposed hips and waist from the crop top and sweats you were wearing, unintentionally matching with his grey t shirt and black sweatpants.

“why you so quiet? you fucked up my head, ma?” he looked up at you. “C, why would you move?” you stared at him with rested, annoyed eyes. “i probably did after you shifted yo’ big ass head.” you said, grabbing his jaw and moving it back down. “now let me finish.” “aw, naw, you not finna be disrespecting me like this, i’m letting you do my hair.” connie said, softly pinching your waist, making you jump a little.

you smiled before doing the last line. “i’m about to do the curves, be still.” you said, grabbing more dye.

you made the webs connect of the line and stepped back to look at the first one. “am i doing this right?” you asked him. connie looked up at you. “hablas en serio?” he muttered under his breath as you looked at his head and laughed. “huh?” he stared at you with big eyes. “you serious, you messed it up?” he furrowed his eyebrows and smacked his lips. “bro-“ “-calm down, it ain’t even bad!” you said, moving back towards his head. “it looks good right now.”

“man- right now? get out my hair.” he said. you laughed and continued to do the curves. you moved his head lower to do the very back before you stepped back. “stand up.” you said. connie stared at you for a second before standing up and sighing at you, doing a 360 and looking back at you. you smiled. “i did my shit, i don’t care what you say.” you took the gloves off. “whatever.” connie smiled and looked in the mirror before his smile widened. “this shit cleannn. you see this?” he turned to kiss you on the lips.

you nodded and stared at him with a smile. “you like it, i know.” you shrugged. “thank you, i love you, mami.” he said, smacking your butt as you walked out of the bathroom. you smacked your lips. “i love you too.”

#connie springer #connie x reader #x reader #aot #oneshot #aot fluff #aot connie #aot oneshots #aot headcanons #black reader #poc reader #x poc reader #headcannons #attack on titan #jeansplaytoy♡︎

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 3 months

Note

White Knight Ithaqua who has feelings for a low-nobility reader (who does also like him a bit) 👀 she's the last living heir of the dying family line, and about to be married off by her desperate father to a cruel husband for the money the sustain their status. She cares nothing for status, and knows of both Ithaqua's fearsome reputation and feelings for her...so she asks him to kill her father, so she'll be free of that fate, and in exchange she'll happily be with him.

heheheheheheh

Rated Mature | Warning: none

Ithaqua with the purple blue lipstick save me

“Ithaqua.” You stand in front of him as sits on the chair in the room, his legs open as he relaxes— Content like a cat after being fed a treat. The wedding, the union between himself and you, is complete. Finally, he has you! The lady of his dreams, the only person alive who knows him as a boy who was once shy and gentle. You promised to marry the boy who lived in the woods with his mother, she was the maid you liked the most. Red hair she would let you braid as she would teach you how to read, her smile bright and you try to match it. She was a sweet woman who was like a mother to you while your father was being a fool. Your mother died not long after you were born, the rumors say your father had her killed for having an affair. An affair that was not true.

“Would you do anything for me?

Ithaqua, the fearsome White Knight, stares at you with eyes you know are to be full of a love that would scare anyone else. Without his helmet, you see the face, the change from the gentle to the sharp man who would cut down the mightiest of the White King’s enemies. His dark purple edging on blue-painted lips formed a Cheshire grin. He stands up and snatches you close to him, his hands on your waist as his forehead touches yours.

“Anything.”

You use one hand to guide him to touch your ass, your other hand beginning to open his uniform, and you angle your face to brush against his lips as you speak. “Will you kill for me?” Softly asking with your eyes locked with his.

Your father used to be of high status before his greed got the best of him. He plotted with others to overthrow the White King with the assistance of the Black Monarchy. He was able to worm his way out of an execution and keep some of his status. All he had to do was easily betray those who were trying to betray the kingdom. You hate him for using you as a way to remain in the good graces of the White King. The White Knight was gifted you, an offering to a monster expected to devour you.

“Within reason.” He moves in to kiss you but you pull back. A warning growl but his grin never fades, “Does murder get you off these days, (Name).”

“No, this is not a murder but a way to free your wife.” You tilt your head back as he attacks your neck and squeezes your ass, “My father. I want him to be cold on the ground by tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Then he laughs, “No honeymoon?” Licking the column of your throat before biting into the side marking you as his.

“If you kill him fast enough you can return to me with his blood on your hand and claim me.”

He moves back to look at your very serious face, his grin gone as he is surprised to hear the hatred in your voice, “You’ve changed.”

“Not willingly, I wish I was still the girl who would chase you to play with me.” You yearn for her, for the woman she has turned into these days. Cold and calculating, your loyalty is to the kingdom and now your husband. “Will you free me?”

“Free you? This will only lock the last shackle to me.”

“So be it. You still love me, I know you will not toss me to another.”

He hums before going back to marking your neck, “In silver and blood you are bound to me.” Silver for the ring and blood for the man who will die tonight.

#asks #idv #reader insert #ithaqua x you #ithaqua x reader #idv ithaqua #identity v ithaqua #idv x you #idv x reader #idv night watch #night watch x reader #night watch x you #identity v night watch #identity v x reader #identity v #identity v x you

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scekrex · 1 month

Note

Hey could you by chance do an Adam x reader who dies their hair all the time? Like one month they have blue hair, the next it's pink, then black, then red, and there's no real way to tell what color is next besides maybe a "I think people with *insert hair color here* look super cool", thanks and have an amazing day/night!

I fucking got you, as someone who used to dye his hair every 4-6 weeks, I feel reader's vibe

Pretty Boy Swag

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

“Adam,” you called out for your boyfriend from the bathroom. It only took him a few seconds to open the door and lean against the door frame, his arms were crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes was critical. Even though he was very much enjoying the view of you sitting there only dressed in boxer shorts in order not to mess up any clothes.

In annoyance he sighed, “What color this time?” Like don't get him wrong, he didn't mind that you dyed your hair regularly, he thought it was fucking badass, but he didn't like helping you because no matter how careful he was, he would always get that fucking hair dye on his skin and it would take days to fade. Your lips curled into a playful smirk as you put on your gloves and squirted some dye onto your plastic covered palm. “First bleaching, then purple,” you replied. Adam's eyes flickered up to look at the faded neon green that your hair currently was and decided that purple sounded like a fucking great upgrade. “Alright, gimme the gloves,” he continued to act all annoyed as he stepped closer. The brunette stopped behind you and took the gloves you held up to him. Once his hands were safe, he took the bottle with bleach inside from you. Bleach was fine, it burned a little in his eyes and it smelled absolutely horrible, but bleach didn't stain his hands for days so he could live with that. As long as none of it got onto his or your wings, that was.

The bit of bleach that you had squeezed onto your hand you roughly applied, only for Adam to bat your hand away, “You want me to help so you're gonna sit fucking still and let me do my fucking thing.” He would never admit that he secretly enjoyed your little hair dying sessions. It was relaxing, really. “So why purple?” the first man hummed as he made sure the bleach covered every inch of your hair. “Y’know, because extermination is in a couple days and your battle robe is mainly purple so,” you shrugged as you watched Adam through the mirror in front of you, “So you thought it would be a nice fucking match, huh?” he finished for you. “Damn right. Whatcha think?”

Adam thought about it for a moment, “Do you have golden dye?” You raised an eyebrow at that, curious on what his plans were. “Yeah, in the back of the cabinet is a bit of leftover gold, why?” Adam however, completely ignored your question and continued to cover your hair in bleach silently.

Once he was done the two of you decided to order food and something while the bleach was working its magic. A thing Adam didn't calculate was that the food would take some time to arrive so when it did, it was already time to wash out the chemicals. So instead of immediately eating, you two went back into the bathroom to finish your job.

“So you gonna tell me what you need that for? I asked for purple, not gold,” you were about to complain but Adam pushed you down on your shoulders until you were sitting on the chair you had placed there before you had started to mix the bleach. “Split dye babes, if you wanna match colors, we're gonna do it fucking right.” You liked the way he thought. So he used the golden hair dye on the left and the purple on the right side. Once the color was applied, the two of you finally got to eat.

“Remind me to let you pick my hair color every now ‘n’ then, big guy, because fuck you have taste,” you mumbled with a mouth full of sushi and a shit eating grin on your lips. “Did you ever doubt that?” his voice was playful as he raised an eyebrow at you, a silent challenge. “Maybe, I mean gold and purple? C’mon, that's clearly a you-thing.” If he could, he would've tackled you and wrestled you down onto the floor, pinning you down. But he couldn't because that would cause a fucking mess, not only on the floor but also on your head. So he didn't.

Well at least until you had washed it out, because the second you had turned off the sink, he wrapped his hands around your waist, lifted you up just to carry you on his shoulders like a large bag of potatoes. “The fuck?” you squeaked in surprise as Adam carried you out of the bathroom and right into your bedroom. “Adam my hair's still fucking wet!” Not that he cared. He dropped you onto the soft mattress and leaned over you within a blink and for a tiny moment you felt dizzy by how quick he had moved. “Shush bitchboy, you look absolutely fucking glorious and I take that as my sign to fuck you stupid.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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ilycove · 8 months

Text

Quest likes to think he met you where the soul had met the bone, where your smiles and touches made his heart ache. His arms envelop you, calloused finger tips drawing sleepy circles into your waist. He sits and breathes you in, breathes you out.

Compared to him, you're little in his arms, really. You lay there with your head resting on one arm, and connecting little freckles of his like you're creating constellations with the other. The two of you just sit in serenity, not wanting to break the silence and tenderness that floats in the air quite yet. Part of you doesn't want to leave because, well you're comfortable, but if you'd turn around you would meet his pretty blue eyes that are like an ocean that threatened to swallow you whole. Or, willingly, you’d drown. And you weren't so sure if you’d want to be saved.

Quest dips down to kiss the nape of your neck, relishing in the soft chuckles you make as you tighten your grip on his forearm. He doesn't budge a bit, and decides to bite softly as to not hurt you but to raise a few gasps out of you. His smirk grows when you glare playfully at him over your shoulder, and you can practically feel your faux melting at the sight of his face.

You're drowning.

And you really, really don't want to be saved.

He presses a firm kiss on your jaw, waking you up further. As you sit up, he inches his one arm to your face again to bring you closer to him. He places gentle kisses on your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, the corner of your mouth, wherever he can reach. He hums against your skin, "Good morning."

Quest's lips find your neck once more, becoming more firm as they travel down to your collarbones. You gently run your hands through his hair, bringing him out of his sleep driven trance. "G'morning. It's way too early for this."

You yawn almost instantly after saying that making Quest's smile grow wider. Sarcasm drips from his voice as he kisses your cheek again, and again, and again. "Oh wow, I'm hurt," he gives you a playful pout to counter your rolling eyes. "Really, I just wanted to show you how much I adore my angel. Is that so wrong?"

He brings a hand of yours up to his lips and matches his smile with your own. Neither of you mention how his voice dipped a bit when he called you yours. Neither of you minded it. If it were up to you, you'd adore it all the more if he'd just call you that forevermore. Hearing him say "angel" was like he reinvented the word and gave it a new meaning, like it was his initial around your neck. As much as it was yours, it was his. Forget your name, you just wanted him.

You met his eyes again – sinking and drowning and dying – and you give him a little kiss on his lips. Then another one. Then you two are one. Like a set of gloves, you just go together, you're meant to be.

You pull away with a whine, doe eyes looking into ones of a Greek God. "I have to get ready for work."

"No you don't. Just call in sick."

You squint at him but there's no malice behind your stare. A smile refuses to leave your bruised lips. "I've done that one too many times for you, they're gonna start getting suspicious."

"Then fake it. Pretend you have a sore throat. Just stay with me a little while longer." Another kiss is pressed to your knuckles and you're dead. You've drowned in him completely. And you're totally okay with that.

"How can I just pretend to have a sore throat?"

A toothy smile graces his features, painted with mischief and cheekiness, sculpted from the finest hands. "I know a way or two."

Quest laughs when you slap his chest and he laughs a little harder when he hears your laughter, too.

He means it when he calls you angel. He hears God themselves whispering behind your voice like background vocals in a song when you speak and he sees the gates of Heaven when you smile. In the so called ugliness of your tears he sees himself and that itself makes him yearn for you all the more. He pulls you closer to his chest, his heart in sync with yours.

He knows he isn't a good person, but if he gets to stay here with you for just a second longer then he knows he did one thing right. You had become his home, a sacred oasis. If he was told he would die tomorrow, he'd be more than fine spending the time atoning for his sins in your arms.

Quest kisses your neck again. His lips travel, traced with electricity. He finds your pulse point and lingers, kissing it softly. He attempts to kiss once more, but it's more smile than pursed lips when he hears your laughter again.

The ocean is not a home for angels. It's inhospitable, dark and unforgiving. But as long as you swear yourself to the tides and mutter its praises, it will hold onto you.

#(⸝⸝⸝╸▵╺⸝⸝⸝) – writing !#quest x reader #quest imagines #quest scenarios #blooming panic quest #blooming panic quest x reader #bloomic #bloomic x reader #blooming panic x reader #bp quest #bp quest x reader #quest fanfic #bp fanfic #blooming panic fanfic #bp fluff #blooming panic fluff #quest fluff

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sugar-plum-writer · 2 months

Text

A God Has Descended to Earth

Paring: Gojo Satrou x fem!reader Tags: God complex, one-shot, what happens when a god like existence on Earth makes you wonder? if all the gods you knew were fake A/n: I just wrote this after being inspired from Lana's - "Salvatore", I have listened to it many times but this version of it being in a cathedral unblocked my writers block. The echo, the reverberation, and blue cathedral inspired me to write some lines and it evolved to this lol~ I hope you guys like it! pls leave a comment for any feedback if you like it!

Throughout the lands and the sky above, beyond the glistening stars the breeze itself seemed to freeze to not disturb his walk. Black, white and blue sky, a gold painted sun cathedral with echo's of power resonating through each crevice swirling like the depth of oceans, and storming like a titanic on the clouds

Stepping down he looked like a God

using the sky itself as a staircase he stepped down, elegantly- playfully smirking, he needed no cathedral, he needed no church or temple, why? The sky was his, the sky was the cathedral, the only place high enough for a man like him to look down on the world and be worshiped.

No throne was worthy enough for him, none dared to bear his weight, no gold or diamonds needed to show his wealth, Afterall, which diamonds could ever compare to the azure blue painting his eyes reflecting the sun and the ocean in it's wake.

The sky was his, it exists because he exists, with just a drop of his power thousands could be ripped till bones and daggers cannot be forged. Having the strength to take the Earth from the back of Atlas and bear it on his mere hands; spinning it like a child spinning the globe. As if it was the most weightless object in the world.

How did such a man exist- was beyond you, having heard about him through many people, calling him annoying, cocky, over-confident, but one thing the whole world agreed on- he was the strongest. You laughed it off as you heard many things related to him, so many stories a 1000 nights couldn't match up, wondering if you could meet this man known as the strongest yourself

Until, you saw him, the man himself walking down from the sky

Sharp cuts on your body stung dripping with blood, making you beg your nerves to stop feeling this piercing pain. If it stopped you could focus more, hot blood drenched a side of your face, blurring your vision hazy, it smelled like iron and tasted disgusting on your throat making you want to vomit

Seeing him made your breath stop, world stop, the chaos fell silent and deaf to your ears- looking at him breathless as he walked towards you not even realizing the curse you were fighting was still alive

With a light grin he raised his hand

"Red"

Such a simple word, just 1 syllable

Obliterated half of the area you were standing flat, grimy blood of the curse splattered on the wall behind you- with a crater big enough to hold an elephant, but rather than horror it looked like a painting- a painting of raw power

Is this what ultimate power looks like?

The curse you struggled to fight against, gasping for breath in every killing blow, small cuts graced your body making your skin be basked in crimson, nearly dying fighting this curse and for him it was just

One Syllable

You stared at him, stunned to speak, he did not avert your gaze rather kept looking in your eyes, the azure eyes melting into your own- evoking the feeling of your soul being consumed by him

Gently raising his hand- he brushed your hair aside- though his hands got covered in your blood he paid no mind

"My My~ that's quite an expression you've got their my dear"

leaning in his lips close to yours- inches apart- gaze unwavering looking into your heart

"A-Are you a God?"

You do not know why such words came from your mouth, they just did, as if wanting to know, if the god you have been worshipping your whole life was fake

"Am I?"

He chuckled

"If I am, will you go down on your knees and worship me? will my name be the only prayer on your lips? Answer me dear? Will you?"

With a light smile he said the words as if they are weightless- even a god declaring his words would make himself look mighty, is he above a God?

"If so"

"Kneel"

Link to my Masterlist in case you want to read other works of mine

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nevernonline · 6 months

Text

✧.* sweet disposition; hjs

the innocence of youth, isn't it blissful? your youth was your childhood crush, joshua. a pretty boy from your hometown who became your best friend.

✧ paring: non-idol! joshua x fem! reader

✧ genre/s: high school crush! joshua, f2l.

✧ word count: 4.0k

✧ warning/s: swearing, kissing, some smutty scenes, mentions of substances (alcohol&weed mainly) mentions of illness, minors dni.

✧ note/s: sweet disposition by temper trap is one of my all time fav songs, and i was watching old sytycd episodes for my soul and when I heard it I knew I had to write a silly little fic. also def unedited so sorry. atp I'm just making a svt song series. lol. ily.

When he first met you in high school Joshua knew he liked you, something about your soft smile and ease of fitting into every social situation made him want to be your friend.

You were a transfer student from a public school into his much more prestigious private one and almost automatically fit in with everyone.

He admired you for that, but it wasn’t until the first year of knowing you passed that he realized he loved you.

You were sitting on a bench watching him and his team practice for a big lacrosse match, well not exactly watching the boys play and run around the field. But, sitting on a bench reading one of those romance novels you loved, like Wuthering Heights or some Jane Austen novel. Something about them made you invested in reading, Joshua tried, but he couldn’t shake the fact that someone in a period romance is dying of the plague or having a maid clean out their chamber pot before the rest of the royals arrive.

He was distracted by you more than ever that day. your glasses were changed into contacts, your legs longer, and your hair plaited into braids on each side of your head tied together with matching blue hair bands.

You felt your ears burning as you looked up from your novel, finding Joshua standing in the center of the field as the opposing team members scored a goal on his side and celebrated, but he was stuck. Stuck in a moment of noticing you before the coaches whistle dragged him out of his dream state.

He never confessed his feelings for you, not yet. He didn’t want to seem selfish now that you weren’t the nerdy girl he once met, but a girl transitioning into her own womanhood. Well, at least on the outside.

Time seemed to pass whenever you were with him and suddenly he realized it was the start of your senior year, just like that Joshua was back dreaming about asking you to the homecoming dance, a dance that you helped organize.

Joshua had an entire day planned to ask you on your first date, he would come over carrying a bouquet of flowers, carrying a dress in your favorite shade of blue, and him in his matching suit. He made dinner reservations and even made a book of things he loved about you, like your own Austen novel just from him.

When he rang your doorbell, a familiar face answered, but it wasn’t yours it was Soonyoung from his lacrosse team, dressed in a white suit adorned with a red sash, a sash he came to find out matched your beautiful long dress, and even the small flower placed in your hair.

A missed chance, now he looked like a fool standing in your doorway, but he lied. He just lied and told you that he needed your help asking someone else to the dance. Aside from the book he made, all the effort he put in for you was wasted on someone else.

After all was said and done, Joshua was happy you ended up going with Soonyoung. You were smiling, laughing, and dancing with someone who deserved your happiness. He was a nice guy, as nice as you were.

The book that Joshua made for you was still in his closet at his parents house, just like the rest of your memories together.

A few days later his flight landed on the route back to you. Stepping off the plane a gush of warm air and the smell of peaches hit his nose, something about it felt like you and that stupid peach flavored lip gloss you always wore.

Joshua looked around the airport feeling that maybe you would be here too, but he knew that you were off with your friend celebrating her birthday for the next two nights.

His mom pulled up on the curb in her black suv, greeting him with a comfortably tight hug and a small peck on the cheek and he was home.

He tried to ask her about you, maybe seeing if she had any information on where you went or if you were single, but she had no idea. She just told him to be patient and ask when he saw you.

After two days of going around to all of his old favorite places, some closed or turned into boutique clothing or vape shops, he still was met with the emptiness of not seeing you yet.

On that second night at home he met up with his friends and some of their significant others at a new bar that just opened a few months prior, to catch up and also to distract him from you, just for one night at least.

A few hours went by and his buzz grew stronger, he felt guilty he hadn’t thought about you most of his night, but why should he?

Soonyoung took the open space on the red leather couch next to Joshua and sat down two shots of tequila, a ritual for the two of them to keep their buzz going.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, Shua? You seem sad.”

“Uh, nothing I guess I just missed being here. I miss you guys.”

“Aw, we missed you too, but I don’t think that’s it. What’s going on?”

“I haven’t seen y/n yet, I’m nervous I guess?”

“Of course. You had the biggest crush on her, sorry for taking her to that dance.”

“No, it’s okay. I just- Well, I guess it’s dumb to be nervous. We still talk every day, but I just haven't seen her in real life in too long. It’s just weird I guess.”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“I don’t know, maybe. She’s probably just moved on from me.

“Is it eating you up inside? Wait, that's a dumb question clearly it is. You think she’s dating someone?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t think so. Unless you know something I don’t.”

“Na, last time I saw her she sat in the corner of the room on her phone the whole time texting you.”

“Really? See, she doesn’t even tell me when she goes out to parties.”

“Are you that jealous? You know y/n, she’s not like that, Joshua, stop getting weird and in your head about it.”

Soonyoung handed Joshua his phone that was placed face down on the table and then handed him a shot of liquid courage.

“Call her, ask her out. Don’t be a bitch.”

“You're right, thanks Hosh.”

Pulling up your contact information on his phone, two rings in you picked up, clearly half asleep from just getting back home.

“Shua? Hi, sorry I got home an hour ago. What are you doing?”

“Oh my god, sorry I woke you. I was just calling to see if you wanted to hangout tomorrow? I was thinking maybe Leslie’s for lunch and then the arcade or something?”

“Yeah, should I pick you up or meet you?”

“You can meet me, if that's okay? I’m going to a church thing with my mom, I’ll have her drop me off.”

“Sure, I’m going to go back to bed now okay? I promise I’ll be less tired tomorrow, Love you.”

“Okay y/n, I’ll see you then, okay? Sleep good, love you.”

“Oh, and Shua.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let Soony give you too many shots okay? Save some alcohol room in your belly for me.”

“I promise, night angel.”

“Night, loverboy.”

Joshua’s nerves were beginning to get the best of him as he walked into the dim light of the italian restaurant and informed the host that he was here meeting his friend, as he was being ushered to the back he saw you seated at a small corner table, lit with a candle, wearing a slick black top and a pair of matching pants, a simple denim jacket was placed over your shoulders shielding you slightly from the air conditioning.

“Hi.”

You got up from your spot against the wall and greeted Joshua with a big hug when your giggles filled his ears realizing you were both dressed in nearly the same outfit.

“I see you got the memo, Joshua.”

“I see you still copy me after all this time.”

Gesturing for you both to sit back down, he noticed how casual you were after all this time spent apart, possibly just as a front knowing soon he’ll be back to teasing you once he snaps out of his awkwardness.

“So, how's your dad? Is everything okay?”

“He’s alright, he’s been in remission for a few months now.”

“I’m happy to hear that, really. I always loved your dad.”

The waitress came over at a perfect moment, a chance for Joshua to collect his thoughts and place an order for a bottle of wine to calm his quick heartbeat.

“So you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I’m too busy with med school and taking care of my dad to date, you know that. What’s with the weird questions? You want to know the next time I’m supposed to be on my period too? You sound like my mom.”

“Sorry, I just-”

And just like that, the waitress made her second entrance, bringing along the bottle of red liquid and your two meals, delaying Joshua’s chance once again to ask you his set of weird questions.

He let the moment pass while the two of you ate in silence and each had a glass to ease the awkward tension now lingering over your table.

“So-”

You both spoke up at the same time, you decided to let him finish his thought first.

“Okay, wait I just thought of another question. Why did you take Soonyoung to the dance and not go with me?”

“Because I had a crush on him, duh.”

“No way you had a crush on him? He used to pick his boogers and wipe them on his jeans.”

“I’m kidding. He was just a good friend, I was too shy to ask the guy I wanted so I asked him instead.”

“Who was the guy? Jun from your biology class? He was cute.”

“No, he was cute. But, this dude's name was like Joshua Honk or something, not sure if you knew him.”

“You had a crush on me?”

“Obviously, but you’re kind of a fucking idiot.”

“Okay, well how do you feel about me now?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you in years and you're asking me what I think about you?”

“Yep, I need to know why I was your secret sexy crush.”

“Disgusting.”

“I’m waiting.”

You looked Joshua up and down, his hair was longer than normal, his eyes still big and wide, catching every glimmer of light inside of them like a cluster of stars, his lips were turned into a toothy smile. He was perfect.

“I think you’re okay.”

“Just okay? Damn. Whatever.”

“Want to take some dessert to go? I think we have some unfinished business.”

Waving over the waitress and paying your bill as she picked up your box of tiramisu, you and Joshua ran down the streets where you grew up to the very arcade you’d spend hours in after school.

“Okay, the winner gets what? I think we’re betting with more than tickets these days.”

“Well, y/n. I’m glad you asked. How about if I win, I get to take you home with me and if you win you get to take me home.”

“Seems like we’d both be getting what you want out of it.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to be with your super sexy secret lover, Shua Honk?”

“Win, and you’ll find out.”

“You’re on, but I’ll warn you I’m very good in bed.”

“Horny and sarcastic and horny very interesting combination for you, Honk.”

“Shut up and play.”

After hours of playing multiple games around the arcade you and Joshua were tied and his anxiety had been eased, all that stood between him and winning was a game of ski ball, a game which you were notoriously bad at.

“Need help with your game, y/n?”

A nod from you made Joshua push his chest against your back and wrap his arm around your waist, the other one held your hand helping you aim the ball on the black trackpad, a pull of your hips backwards into his sent a strong vibration down to your panties, that were now as wet as the saliva burning in your mouth.

“50 points? Not bad for a rookie.”

“You threw me off.”

“You really think you would’ve won even if I didn’t help you?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so distracting, yes.”

“I was just trying to help.”

“What? By thrusting into my ass?”

“I didn’t thrust? You pushed your ass into me?”

“No, I did not, you clearly made contact first.”

“Okay, well then that was a practice round, prove you can win with no help. I'll buy all your drinks tonight and if you lose, open your wallet, rich girl.”

“Fine, try to control the friend in your pants, loser.”

Joshua wanted to respond with some sarcastic remark not promising anything from the way he was watching you bed over to roll the ball from behind, but he decided to shut up and let you win, he wouldn’t have you paying for him anyway.

“You let me win, but I will be taking the drinks.”

“How did you know?”

“You threw the ball backwards twice to skip your turn, you’re good at many things but subtly is not one of them.”

“Okay, but still let me buy the drinks.”

“You were always going to pay anyway, I’m not wasting my cold hard cash on you, california boy”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

Walking into the familiar dive bar you spent many late nights in after studying, you were hit with the sweet smell of beer and the crunching of peanut shells under your feet. You caught a glimpse of Joshua looking around at the various world flags on the wall.

“What? Not fancy enough for you?”

“No, I love it. I didn’t even know this was here?”

“Yeah, my dad told me about it. He comes with me sometimes to watch soccer, it’s cozy.”

“Sit down, I’ll go and order what would you like?”

“Just grab me a beer, maybe with a lime wedge?”

“And a shot?”

“Ugh, fine Joshua but I do not want to be responsible for carrying your drunk ass home.”

“No promises.”

Joshua strolled up to the wooden bar, greeted by the big man with facial hair behind it and placed the two matching orders, a shot of tequila and a beer with lime.

“You’re here with y/n?”

“Oh, y/n? Yeah, you know her?”

“I know her dad, good man. You her boyfriend?”

“No, just her friend. Nice to meet you..”

“Alan.”

“Alan, hey. I’m Josh.”

Alan shook Joshua’s outstretched hands and denied his card from being swiped for the alcohol.

“It’s on the house, if you’re friends with the y/l/n’s you’re friends with me. Enjoy and treat our girl well, if you’re the Joshua she tells me about, then I hope she gets her happy ending.”

“Wait what does that mean?”

“Oh, nothing you can’t figure out for yourself.”

Walking back over to your small bar table, Joshua decided to take the spot directly next to you in the booth and not across the table, maybe to hear you better and maybe so he can figure out what Alan was putting down.

“You met Alan?”

“Yeah, he told me to take care of you.”

“He’s protective, he normally scares the weird drunkards away from my table."

“I’m playing your bodyguard tonight, cheers.”

Throwing back your shot, you tried to calm the burning taste of alcohol from showing on your face, Joshua held up a slice of line to your lips and let you bite down on it before placing it between his.

“Ew, why didn’t you just use your own lime.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Want to kiss me that bad huh?”

“What are you talking about?”

You slapped his arm, taking a swig of your fresh beer.

“It was a joke, be quiet.”

“I do want to kiss you.”

“Oh, right. Okay, save the jokes. You don’t have to tease me for my crush anymore. I get it.”

“Do you still like me?”

“ I probably always will. At least some part of me. Why do you ask?”

“ I don't know, I asked you before what you like about me so do you want to know what I like about you?”

“My body?”

“No, but that doesn’t hurt. I like how kind you are. I like that everyone who meets you falls in love with you instantly because you’re so charming. I love that when you laugh or cry too hard you start wheezing a little bit because you’re embarrassed that someone could see you like that. I love that you, even after all this time, have the nicest heart of anyone I’ve ever met.”

A tear fell down from your eye, and Joshua’s long finger came up to cup your cheek, wiping it away with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry. I just missed you.”

“You know I have something for you, it’s old but I've never had the chance to give it to you.”

Joshua pulled the brown leather bound notebook from his bag that had a laminated front titled ‘ The Girl from Nowhere.’

“What is this? Did you write a book?”

“Remember the night of the dance when I showed up at your house?”

“Yeah, when you needed me and Hosh to help you ask Suki?”

“Right. Well, I was actually there to ask you, but I saw Soonyoung and I couldn’t. He’s too good of a friend and you were happy. So, I lied. I actually had a dress for you to match me and this book. I wrote it for you because you were so obsessed with all those books, so it’s your own Austen novel.”

“You wrote me my own romance book?”

“Yeah, it’s outdated now, but it ended with me kissing you after the dance.”

You couldn’t believe your eyes, it was the most thoughtful thing he’d ever given you or anyone for that matter.

“Joshua, this is so nice. Seriously, when did you even have time to do this?”

“My mom gave me the idea. You and her always watched Pride and Prejudice together, she has the same taste. So technically it’s co-written by her, but she gave me all the credit.”

“Wow. I don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Okay, then I’ll be right back. Give me like two minutes, don’t move.”

You peeled yourself off of Joshua and strutted up to Alan to ask a favor before running back to your table.

Suddenly the only lighting in the room was coming from the sporting matches on the flat screens and a few neon branded signs as a song Joshua hadn’t heard in years played over the speakers, Sweet Disposition by Temper Trap.

“Joshua Hong, will you do me the pleasure of dancing with me?”

“You’re so corny.”

“Get up, you’re embarrassing me. Let it happen.”

As the song rang through the speakers, he wrapped his hands around your lower back and pulled you in tightly, swaying you to the perfect song to describe falling in love in his youth, with the only person he ever pictured by his side. His own version of a romance novel.

You pulled away slightly as the beat got faster and grabbed his hands, running around to the other patrons in the familiar bar, crushing sounds of peanut shells under your feet.

Suddenly the whole bar was dancing along with you to the sound of nostalgia, even Alan was behind the bar top swaying along and singing into a broom.

It was this charm, the charm only you had to get the entire group of people dancing along with you.

After the song ended Alan handed out a round of shots and you took back your respective seats.

“Thank you, y/n.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

“You made a weird childhood dream of mine come to life, it’s stupid, but it’s the truth.”

“It’s not stupid. And you did the same for me so it was only fair, want to go?”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“I know, but there’s somewhere else we have to go.”

“Are you okay to walk?”

“Honk, I am not the lightweight here. I should be asking you that.”

“I am not a lightweight.”

“Okay, stand up.”

“Give me one second.”

“Exactly. Come on.”

Waving goodbye to Alan and the rest of the team at the bar, you pulled a very drunk Joshua down the old streets of your hometown, until you reached the best park bench in town.

It was older than both of you and maybe even your parents, carved with names and years of all the couples who sat right here. It was your favorite spot, even as a kid.

You and Joshua have a countless number of photos together on the very wood you sat upon now, staring at the calm sight of the nearby lake.

“Remember when we ditched that weird one year reunion party to come sit here?”

“Yeah, you had a joint that some weird guy dressed as a hotdog gave you.”

“Yes, it was someone that knew Soony, not sure why but his nickname is Dino? We just sat here all night and smoked it. So, I may have gotten his contact from someone and picked up a couple.”

“Y/N you did not.”

“Yes, it’s in my purse. I’m not letting you smoke it though, you’re too drunk. So it’s just a prop, but-“

Out of your small leather bag, you pulled a perfectly rolled joint and held it up to Joshua's face.

“I thought it’d be funny to bring one, that was the first time I ever took a hit so it’s special.”

“You know most people have their first kiss on this bench, not their first joint.”

“I had my first kiss in sixth grade at a roller rink, this is more important.”

“A roller rink? What the hell.”

“Yeah, a story for another time.”

Joshua grabbed the brown wrapped object from your hand and pulled a match box from Leslie’s out of his pocket.

“For old times sake?”

“Fine, but you really need to stop talking like you're in your eighties.”

With the strike of the match and the smell of sulfur hit your nose and the flame between you ignited. A corny thought, but it was the truth.

Taking in a large inhale and holding it in your lungs before passing it off to Joshua, you sat and stared at the blue water.

“By the way, I like everything about you just so you know. I was being stupid before. I think you’re maybe the only person in the world I’ve ever trusted.”

As the flower kept passing between you, Joshua scooted closer, resting his hand on your clothed thigh awfully close to the crease of your pelvis.

“Me too. Not about myself, about you. Tonight proved to me that moving back was the right choice.”

“Wait, you're back for good? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Would that have changed tonight?”

“Yeah, I would’ve probably been in your bed by now. I was too scared to confess how I felt. But, fuck I’m in love with you. I always have been.”

Choking on the cloud of smoke in his lungs, Joshua stuck the small roach of the joint in his pocket and kissed you.

“Does that mean I can take you home?”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.”

“Classy girl, I like that.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“I love you too.”

“So when’s the second date? Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, come sleep over on the couch and we can go for breakfast.”

“The couch? Like a dog?”

“ My dog sleeps in my bed.”

“Kick her out for one night, I reserved the spot first.”

“Okay, let’s go. No funny business, Honk.”

“Can we brainstorm a cuter nickname, I don’t know like Hunk?”

“No, Honk stays. Let’s go to bed.”

Holding hands and kissing at stop lights on your way, he was back and you were never letting him go again.

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pro-gamer-moves · 7 months

Text

Couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here’s the Chain waking up and putting on makeup.

Time was woken, as usual, by the sounds of chaos.

“Give it back!”

“I just want to borrow it! Use one of your other four shades!”

“No, I need all of them! Give me back my eyeliner!”

Ooh. The “e” word. That was never good.

Time reluctantly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s the problem, boys?”

Four ran over to him while pointing angrily at Wind, who was standing on top of a stump at the edge of camp. “Wind took my blue eyeliner and he won’t give it back!”

Wind stomped his foot. “I’m going to give it back, I just need to use it really quick!”

“No, you can’t! If you use just the blue it will run out faster than the others and I won’t be able to replace them all at the same time!”

“That’s a stupid reason!”

Time held up his hand before the argument could continue. “Calm down guys. Wind, give Four his eyeliner back, you can use mine.”

Wind pouted and marched over, reluctantly handing the eyeliner back to Four. “Yours won’t match my tunic though. If I wanted boring black I would have used my own.”

Time raised his eyebrow and reached into his makeup bag. “Who says I only have black?”

Multiple heads turned. Warriors spoke up from where he and Legend were hunched over Legend’s Mirror Shield. “But you only ever wear black!”

Time chuckled. “I only ever wear black now. The things I put on my face in my younger days… Besides, I have enough color as it is with these markings.”

He handed Wind the blue eyeliner he had bought in Zora’s Domain and started applying his own foundation. He was running a little low on the good stuff with the moisturizer, he would have to start using his backup bottle soon.

Wild burst out of the bushes, lips purple and parts of his hair dyed to match. “Guys! I found these great berries! Don’t eat them or you’ll throw up, but they stain really nicely!” He paused and looked down. “Aww, Hyrule… Green eyeshadow again? Mix it up a bit!”

Hyrule shrugged. “I stick to what I know. Pass me the medium brush, would ya?”

Wild passed him the brush and ran over to bug Twilight, who was quietly sharing a mirror with Sky as they both did their eyes. Time smiled. It was mornings like these that really made him glad for whatever twists of fate had gathered them.

He glanced around to make sure nobody was watching, then pulled out a tin of extra-firm chuchu jelly he had traded the Troupe Leader’s Mask for after asking the Happy Mask Salesman how he got his hair so shiny. He covertly used his fingers to comb it through his bangs before anyone could notice. How he got his bangs to stick up so much was a matter of several bets among the other Links, more so than his age. If the secret got out he would never see his prized hair gel again.

Finally, he used a couple pencils to trace around the Fierce Deity markings- he used to try to hide them, until he realized the potential in artistic asymmetry. Look complete, he gathered his equipment and stood up.

“Everyone ready to go?”

“No!” Came the call from Legend. “Warriors still has to curl his lashes.”

“Shut up! If yours were this long you would curl them too!”

“Hey, I’m not judging man. Everybody is jealous of your ridiculous lashes.”

Eventually everyone was as beautiful as they wanted to be, and the Chain set off down the road. Dink had a very hard time resisting the urge to ask for their skincare routine, but eventually his burning hatred for anything hero related won out and they fought to the death again.

#linked universe #lu time #lu four #lu wind #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu warriors #lu legend #lu twilight #lu sky #makeup

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secretswiftymarvelfan · 1 year

Text

As Long As You’re Mine - Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: Inspired by As Long As You’re Mine from Wicked

Summary: Mob life can be full of outdated traditions so you try to cling on your freedoms for as long as possible

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Mob Elements! Forced Arranged Marriage! Language! Mention of guns! Mention of Drugs! Language! Brief SMUT 18+ ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Sitting in the large sunroom you let out a long sigh staring out at the large garden sprawling out in front of you. This was the first time you felt peace in weeks. Ever since the sudden passing of your father, life had been turned upside down, your brother stepping into a role he’d not been expecting to take for decades.

“Your brother wants to talk to you” Romero stated behind you.

“Where?” You ask not looking away from the fountain outside.

“His office” Romero answers.

“You mean my father’s office” you mutter barely glancing over your shoulder.

“Yes miss,” Romero says.

“Fine” you sigh pushing yourself up from your chair.

Walking out of the sunroom you held your head up as you passed the various guards that now stood around the house. With your family and its business in a weakened state following the death of your father, the extra guards were needed, not only for protection but as a demonstration of strength.

“You requested my presence?” You state walking into the office not even bothering to knock.

Your brother looks up with an irritated look on his face. A man you didn’t recognise stood to the side, his brow arched as he studied you. Normally you completely ignored strangers, especially ones clearly involved in the family business. But this man had a gravitational pull that had you glancing over at him.

The first thing you noticed was his piercing blue eyes that despite the cool colour, hid some warmth. He had long rugged blonde hair and a beard to match, which did nothing to hide his pink plump lips.

“Sit down” your brother directed, pulling your attention away from the stranger, gesturing to the chair opposite the desk.

“What do you want Bryce, you know I don’t enjoy being in here” you state as you sit down, leaning back in your chair, one leg crossed over the other.

“This is Steve,” Bryce says waving over to the stranger “he’s your personal bodyguard, you’re not to leave his sight”

“What?” You snap sitting up “you can’t be serious I don’t need a babysitter”

“Are the guards outside not a reminder of our precarious situation right now?” Bryce bites back “since I have no wife, and no desire for one either, you are who all our enemies are going to go after”

You scoff shaking your head “oh this is ridiculous!”

“It’s only temporary, I’m sure you’re new husband will have his own bodyguards to look after you” Bryce sighs waving his hand as he leaned back in his chair.

“What?” You choked out, you had no new husband, you had no one.

“It was father’s dying wish to have you married off well, merge our family with another strengthening us” Bryce explains.

“So I get no say in the matter?” You state in disbelief.

“Don’t worry I’ll pick someone mutually beneficial” Bryce mutter noncommittally.

You scoff “this is bullshit! I thought you’d be different to father” you spit at your brother.

As you stormed out of the office you heard heavy footsteps following after you. Whipping around you come face to face with Steve.

“Fuck off” you growl pointing up at him in warning.

A warning that fell on deaf ears as you heard Steve following behind you the entire way to your bedroom. As you stormed inside you went to slam the door in his face but he easily caught it with his large hand.

“Do I not get the privacy of my own room” you question your voice sharp.

“Yes, but I need to conduct a sweep, see what I’m working with entrance and exit wise” Steve reasons, his voice level, face expressionless “You’re most likely to be killed or taken in the safety of your room, that chance will be lowered if I know what I’m dealing with, I’ll be quick” he adds when you don’t budge.

You let out an annoyed huff but step aside letting him into your room. You stood to the side, arms crossed as you watched him walk around your bedroom. He poked his head into your closet and bathroom, looked behind your curtains and tapped against your windows.

“They’re bulletproof” you state “are you done now? I want to relax”

“Yes, but we should limit the amount of time you’re alone to the night” Steve states still looking around your room.

“Well I want a shower and I doubt my brother will take you loitering around very well” you warn, narrowing your eyes at him condescendingly.

“Fine but as soon as you’re decent we should go back downstairs” Steve states looking back over at you.

“Whatever just fuck off already” you scoff waving him off as your turned and walked into your bathroom.

You waited until you heard your bedroom door close before reaching in and turning on your shower. But you didn’t get in, instead, you left it running as you slipped back into your bedroom. You grabbed a book from your bookcase and settled down on your bed to relax for the next few hours until you wanted to leave.

“I want to go outside” you huff in frustration glaring up at Steve.

“And I told you there was a perimeter breach last night, you’re to stay inside until everything is secure” Steve states his distractingly large arms crossed over his chest.

“This is ridiculous! I can’t see my friends! I can’t have a minute of peace! I can’t even go into my own goddamn garden to enjoy the nice weather!” You exclaim gesturing wildly.

Steve lets out a long sigh “how about a compromise”

That caught your attention, your brow arching questionably “what kind of compromise”

“Give me half an hour to ensure the surrounding area is secure and you can relax in the sunroom, enjoy the sunshine in there” Steve offers, his tone much more gentle than before.

You mimic his stance, studying him for a moment “fine” you agree.

“Okay, wait here with Romero I’ll get you once it’s secured,” Steve says nodding over to Romero before turning and walking away.

You let out a long sigh as you sat down, setting the satchel you were carrying down. You rested your chin in your palm as you waited for Steve to return, staring up at the large portrait of your father above the mantlepiece.

“Prick” you muttered under your breath, glaring up at his portrait.

It was his wish that landed you in this situation. Growing up Bryce had been different, when your father died you hoped that you’d be free from an arranged marriage. Yet even in death, his stupid ideals were haunting you.

You hadn’t realised how long you’d be stewing until Steve walked back in “the sunroom is secure” he states gesturing towards the door.

You nodded in acknowledgement, grabbing your satchel and walking out towards the sunroom without a word. You settled down in the large wicker chair in the corner, leaning back and basking in the sunlight, your eyes closing.

The sound of shuffling behind you had you peeking your eye open, glancing over your shoulder to see Steve standing in the far corner. He was always standing, you weren’t sure if he’d ever sat down in your presence. He didn’t seem bothered by it but his feet must be sore.

“You can sit down you know?” You tell him closing your eyes again.

“I’m fine,” Steve says but you heard him shuffling again.

“I can hear you shifting your weight, I’m your boss and I'm telling you to sit down” you state shifting so you were more comfortable.

You heard a tiny huff of a laugh “your brother is my boss” he points out.

“Exactly you’re employed by my family and I’m telling you to sit,” you tell him.

For a minute you didn’t hear anything, but then you heard footsteps, the sound of a chair moving and a quiet sigh as Steve sat down.

You peeked open an eye, smirking to yourself when you saw his unguarded relaxed face “better?” You ask.

Steve just lets out a noncommittal him.

“So where are you from Steve?” You ask opening your eyes as you look over at him.

Steve arches a brow, a surprised look on his face “you’ve changed your tune”

You just shrug your shoulders “I can’t seem to get rid of you so may as well get to know you”

The corner of Steve’s mouth twitches upwards “Brooklyn” he says answering your previous question.

“Oh,” you hum in surprise “What’s the mob scene like there? Just as backwards and twisted as the Boston scene?”

Steve sighs leaning back in his seat “it’s different, the NYPD cracked down on mobs pretty hard so they have evolved” he says.

You tilt your head in confusion “evolved?” You question.

“They’re not families anymore, it's one big syndicate, all run by one guy but nobody knows who they are” Steve explains.

“So you never worked for him? Met him?” You ask, Steve just shook his head in answer.

“I’d love to live in New York” you sigh looking out of the window.

“Really?” Steve asked surprised “you don’t get views like this in New York,” he says nodding to the garden.

“No” you admit “but it's full of life, and bright colours, I visited a few years ago and I felt at home”

“It is a pretty amazing place” Steve hums.

“Do you miss it?” You ask looking over at him.

“Yeah” he nods with a small smile.

“Well, you’re more than welcome to leave the door’s over there,” you say pointing to the door behind you.

Steve lets out a warm laugh, one that made your heart skip a beat “you can’t get rid of me that easily” he smirks.

You let out a long and loud disappointed sigh that makes Steve chuckle gently. As silence falls in the room once more you sit forward, opening up your satchel to grab your sketch pad and pencil.

“You draw?” You heard Steve ask.

You hum nodding your head “it's one of the few skills my father made me learn that I actually enjoy” you explain as you sharpen your pencil.

“You don’t speak highly of him” Steve points out.

You let out a snort of laughter, as you begin to sketch “there isn’t much to speak of, at least not positive”

“What do you mean?” Steve asks.

You let out a long sigh “he was traditional in every sense of the word, but not in a good way” you explain keeping your eyes on the sketch of a flower you were drawing “my and my brother were to be seen and not heard, he paid us no attention at least not until Bryce was old enough to be groomed as a mob leader”

“What about your mother?” Steve asks brows furrowed slightly.

“He didn’t love her, it was an arranged married so he just saw her as someone to give him an heir” you sigh before shrugging your shoulders “she died when I was 12, she’d always try to give me the life she never got, give me some freedom but it was impossible, I knew I’d end up exactly like her, nothing more than a prized piece of meat for breeding,” you say spitting out the last part in disgust.

Steve remains silent to the point that you glance over at him, seeing a hint of concern and sympathy in his eyes.

“When my father died I thought I was free, Bryce always tried to fight for me growing up so I thought I’d be able to go live my life, find and choose who I wanted to spend my life with myself, but I guess I didn’t realise how much my father had poisoned Bryce” you continue shaking your head.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly.

You let out a small huff “it’s alright, not like you can do anything about it”

Steve hums, neither of you saying anything for a moment “who’s your favourite artist?” Steve asks nodding to your sketch.

A smile tugs at your lips at the change of topic “I don’t know, Van Gogh maybe or Frida Kahlo?” You say shrugging your shoulders.

“I’ve always found Picasso interesting, even though his style is very different to mine” Steve admits.

“You paint?” You ask surprised.

Steve smiles gently nodding his head “I prefer sketching but yes”

Without a second thought you reach into your satchel and pull out another sketch pad and pencil “Sketch with me” you say holding out the supplies.

Steve’s eyes widen in surprise for a second before a smile tugs at his lips, reaching out to take the sketchbook from you. You smile back at him, pretending to return your attention back to your own sketch but you instead were watching how Steve reclined back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other to rest his sketchbook against his knee. The look of relaxed concentration on his face as he put the first couple of strokes against the paper.

For hours you and Steve sat in silence sketching, the only noise being the sound being pencils against the paper. You didn’t even stop for food, instead having dinner brought to you in the sunroom.

“What would you do? If you could do what you want? Would you leave mob life” Steve asks after hours of silence.

“No, I’d be wrong to say it doesn’t have its perks, and only people in this life would understand, I just would want more choice and freedom, find someone where I’m an equal not just a bride” you explain with a gentle smile.

There was a beat of silence before Steve closed his sketchbook, standing up from his chair “it's getting late, you should get some sleep” he says holding out the sketchbook for you to take back.

“Keep it,” you say standing up, and packing away your own sketchbook and pencils.

“I’ll bring my own next time,” Steve says reaching out to slide the sketchbook into your bag.

You bit back a smile as you nodded, turning to walk out towards your room. Steve followed a couple of paces behind as always.

“Goodnight Steve” you smile turning back to face him once you reached your room.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he says warmly, his head dipping slightly.

You give him one last smile before slipping inside your room. Walking over to your bed you put down your satchel and began to unpack it, putting your supplies away. When you pulled out the sketchbook you have given Steve, curiosity won out as you opened it up to see what he’d drawn. Your breath caught when you saw it was a portrait of you.

A couple of weeks later you were woken in the middle of the night by shouting and loud cracking noises. Sitting up you realised the sound was coming from outside. You had only just reached the window, poking your head through the curtains when your door swung open.

“Get away from the window!” Steve shouted, his chest heaving.

Your head snapped in his direction “what?” You ask in confusion.

Steve didn’t say anything he just ran over to you, wrapping his arms around you, one large hand placed securely on the back of your head. He then twists into a crouch, covering you with his body as you hard a loud crack against your window. You let out a screech at the sound, finally realising the cracking noises outside were gunfire.

“You okay?” Steve asks pulling back enough for his eyes to scan over your body.

You quickly nod, your eyes wide as you stared up at him in shock “wha-what’s happening?”

“The house is under attack, looks like Hansen, we need to get you out of here,” Steve says repositioning you so you were still covered but on your feet.

You just nod allowing him to guide you out of the room. He kept you both in a crouched position, his arm around you, hand on the back of your head. He leads you out of your room, down the corridor and into a safe room.

To anyone else, it just looked like a closet, but you knew of the reinforced locks. Bulletproof walls and door.

Steve led you over to a plush chair in the corner, carefully setting you down before returning his attention back to the locked door. His hand on his gun ready to fire at a moment's notice.

You curled up in the chair, your knees brought up to your chest. You were shivering, not only from the cold since you only wore silk shorts and a vest, but also as the adrenaline left your body.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at you when he heard you move, his brows furrowing for a second before he shrugged off his jacket.

“Here,” he says offering you his jacket.

When you don’t move he steps closer, carefully wrapping it around your shoulders. He then crouched down in front of you, gently tugging the jacket around you.

“You’re safe, it’s gonna be okay” he reassured you gently, his large hand brushing over your head soothingly.

“Thank you” you whispered.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, it’s okay,” Steve says softly, his hand slipping into yours, the reassuring squeeze he gave providing more warmth than his jacket.

You could only manage a small nod of your head, Steve gave you another smile as he stands back up. Putting himself back on guard duty.

What felt like hours passed until you heard a knocking on the door. Both you and Steve went on guard, Steve pulling out his gun as he stood with his back to the wall. He gestures for you to hide behind your chair with his free g huff hand, waiting until you were crouched behind your chair before unlocking the door. He opens it a crack, only enough to see out.

“Clear?” He asks.

“Clear” you hear Bryce confirm “is she safe?”

Steve puts his gun away as he opens the door enough for Bryce to step in “shaken but fine”

You stand up from your hiding space, your breath catching when you saw Bryce’s busted lip and black eye “Bryce” you gasped.

“It’s nothing you should see the other guy” Bryce waves off with a small smirk, crossing the room and sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Did Hansen show?” Steve asks hands on his hips.

“No, just his goons but we’ve taken one for interrogation, find out exactly what his motives were” Bryce sighs cracking his knuckles.

“It was probably a test run to see how weak you are, so when they hit again they know where to strike” Steve answers

“Shit” Bryce mutters “I need to secure a deal soon,” he says glancing over at you.

“What if that’s what this is all about?” You argue, Steve glancing over at you with a brow arched “Hansen’s a hitman by trade, what if he’s been hired to spook you into closing a deal sooner, one that doesn’t actually benefit you”

Bryce scoffs and shakes his head at the idea but Steve speaks up “it's a possibility, one I wouldn’t rule out even if it is a slim chance”

“Whatever” Bryce mutters pushing himself up from his chair “Your room is compromised so until it's secure again you’ll be sleeping in mother’s old room”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You hadn’t stepped foot in your mother’s room since the week of her death. The last time you’d completely broken down.

“Bryce no…” you start, your voice wobbling but he was already out the door.

You look over at Steve to see him already looking back at you with a concerned look in his eyes “I’ll make sure you’re room is secure as soon as possible”

You swallow the lump of emotion, wrapping your arms around yourself. You gave him a quick nod before quietly walking out the door towards your mother’s room.

Steve walked a few paces behind you as always but when you froze in front of the door, he stopped much closer than he’s ever done before.

“I’ll need to conduct a sweep,” Steve says quietly.

You nod but don’t move. Steve instead placed a hand on the small of your back, reaching around you to open the door. A blast of cold air hit you, but you weren’t sure if you just imagined it. Steve gently guided you inside, closing the door behind you.

As he stepped away to start his sweep a chill entered your body. You hugged yourself tighter as you began to shiver, stepping back until your back hit the wall behind you.

“All clear, get some rest it's been a long night,” Steve says turning back to you.

As he began walking towards the door it felt like you couldn’t breathe “wait” you managed to gasp.

Steve haltered looking over at you in concern “what’s wrong? He asks taking a step towards you.

“I-I can’t stay here I just can’t” you whisper tears spilling from your eyes.

Steve’s face falls as he walks over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders “I understand but it’s not safe anywhere else” he says gently.

“Please” you beg.

You see the conflicted look on his face “sweetheart” he whispered “it’s not safe, I have to keep you safe”

“I can’t Steve” you cry shaking your head “I can’t sleep in the same bed she died in”

Steve lets out a long sigh “okay how about a compromise?” He offers “stay here, but we’ll sleep on the floor”

“We?” You mutter in confusion.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Steve said gently, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears “unless you want to be alone?”

“No, no,” you say quickly “Please don’t leave me”

“I won’t, now why don’t you go freshen up while I get everything sorted” Steve promised.

You nod sniffing back your tears, shooting Steve a grateful look as you step away towards the bathroom.

By the time you re-emerged, Steve had created a bed for you on the floor. Made up of pillows blankets and your duvet from your room.

“I sent Romero to get them, thought it would make you more comfortable,” Steve says answering your silent question.

“Thank you Steve, it means a lot” you smile gracefully.

You walk over and settle down in your makeshift bed. Of course, it wasn’t as comfortable as your actual bed, but it was familiar and if you closed your eyes you could pretend you were back in your room. As you lay down Steve walked away to go sit in a nearby chair.

“Aren’t you sleeping?” You ask him.

“No, just in case Hansen decides to strike twice in one night,” Steve says turning around to face you.

“Can you sit with me?” You ask looking up at him hopefully.

A small smile tugs at his lips and he walks back towards you. He sits down in beside you, back leaning against the wall.

“Get some rest” Steve orders gently.

You smile up at him, reaching out to take his hand “thank you Steve, for everything” you whisper before letting yourself fall asleep, still holding onto his hand.

When you woke the following morning you were somewhat surprised to find you’d moved in your sleep. You’d dropped Steve’s hand, but instead you now had your head in his lap. His hand was now also resting on your waist, thumb absentmindedly moving back and forth.

“Mornin’” Steve murmured, “sleep well?”

You shift so you could look up at him. As you did so you felt your heart skip a beat when you saw him giving you a warm and lazy smile. The memories of last night flashed through your mind, not of the sound of bullets and your brother’s beaten face, but of how Steve looked after you, called you sweetheart. In that moment you couldn’t deny the blossoming feelings you’d been denying the past couple of months.

You sit up, turning to face him. Your eyes roam his face for a moment, while his remains on yours. Your steady hand reached up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his thick beard. Before you could convince yourself this was a bad idea, you leant in, your lips brushing against his.

“Sweetheart” Steve whispered his voice pained “last night was a lot, you can’t be thinking straight”

“I am, I promise” you mutter, forehead pressed against his “I’ve thought this since I met you” you admit.

Steve doesn’t say or do anything for a moment, long enough that you started to pull back. But then he gripped your lips pulling you to straddle his lap, his lips crashing against yours. You hum appreciatively against his lips, completely melting into his embrace.

“Bryce can’t know” you warn “it doesn’t matter you’re twice his size, he’ll kill you if he finds out”

“I can handle myself sweetheart” Steve promises, his fingers gently brushing some hair behind your ear.

“Steve,” you say pleadingly “I can talk him out of this marriage crap, find other ways to build alliances and then we can be free”

Steve nods cupping your cheek and bringing your lips back to his “I trust you doll” he murmured against your lips.

From that day onwards you and Steve were more inseparable than you were before. Every day he kept you company and kept you safe. Every night he loved you, held you close and made you feel safe in a completely different way.

Every day you also made time to talk to Bryce, trying to convince him that marriage was not the only way to build alliances. You suggested multiple different ways and it looked like he was beginning to cave and consider it.

That was until he called you into his office.

“I thought you’d want to hear this news alone,” Bryce said as you sat down putting you on guard immediately.

“What news?” You question.

“I’ve finally managed to secure you a match, you’ll be marrying Ransom Drysdale” Bryce states.

“You can’t be serious!” You exclaim.

“I’m perfectly serious, he’s the heir of the longest-standing mob families in Boston, you couldn’t find a better match,” Bryce says remaining completely calm.

“He’s an idiot! We could get a much better deal with Levinson or Barber without having to subject me to marriage!” You argue standing up from your chair.

“It was father’s wish” Bryce reminds you.

“To hell with him! He was a piece of shit and you know it” you shout pointing down at him.

“He gave us all of this!” Bryce finally snaps standing up and gesturing around.

“At what cost!” You screech in anger.

“This marriage is happening and you can’t change it! Backing out would only give Drysdale the ammunition to wipe us out! Do you want that? All of us dead because of your selfish actions” Bryce roared.

You flinched back, the memory of whenever your father yelled at you flashing in front of your eyes. You blink a couple of times as his words sink in. You had no choice, you had to go through with it. To protect everyone in this family, those who worked for you, for Steve.

“Okay,” you whisper.

Bryce breaths out a sigh of relief “good, I’m glad you’ve seen sense”

You just swallowed the lump in your throat nodding your head “I’m going to get an early night” you manage to croak out.

“Fine, I’ll see you later, I’m going out for the night,” Bryce says slipping on his jacket, opening one of the desk drawers and pulling out a small bag of white powder and slipping it into his pocket.

“Have a nice night, don’t do anything stupid” you tell him quietly.

“Now where’s the fun in that” Bryce smirks walking over to you “see you tomorrow” he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head before walking out of the office.

You breathe out a shaky breath, quickly wiping away a stray tear before walking out of the office. You head straight to your bedroom, walking as quickly as you could, feeling the wave of emotion threatening to crash down over you.

When you spot Steve standing outside your bedroom you broke down. A sob escaped your lips as your hand covered your mouth. Steve’s face fell as he rushed over, arm wrapped around your shoulders quickly guiding you into your room.

He gets you to sit on your bed, cupping your cheeks as he crouched down in front of you “sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I tried, I really tried but you couldn’t stop it but I can’t” you sobbed shaking your head.

Steve sighed knowingly exactly what you meant “we can work something out sweetheart” Steve reassures you.

“No-no we can’t, because he chose Drysdale and nothing can stop him when he sets his mind to something, and if I run or back out he’ll kill everyone here, he’ll kill you” you explain shaking your head, Steve opens his mouth to say something but you interrupt “and don’t say you can handle yourself because you can’t not against him” you sigh.

Steve just sighed leaning forward to press his forehead against yours “I’m sorry” he whispered.

“I’m just so pissed, I thought I’d gotten Bryce to change his mind, but he still went ahead and picked Drysdale, the worst option possible” you state shaking your head “I don’t care if he’s the heir of the longest standing mob family in Boston, he’s reckless one step away from getting caught by the FBI, or he’ll blow every dollar they’ve earnt! Barber or Levinson would have been better options! And I wouldn’t have had to marry either of them” you say breaking down again.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry” Steve sighed cupping your cheeks and kissing your forehead.

“I don’t want to lose you” you whimper shaking your head.

“I know, I don’t want to lose you either” Steve whispers pressing kisses to your forehead.

“I just don’t know what to do” you mutter your eyes meeting his.

“What can I do?” Steve asks quietly.

“Just hold me, kiss me, just make this moment where you’re mine last forever” you plead.

Steve looked at you sadly but nodded. He kissed away your tears, before kissing you deeply. His hand rested on your hip guiding you back onto the bed and laying you down gently.

Your back arched when his lips travelled across your jawline and down your neck. His hand gripped your hip tightly, normally he was always so gentle but tonight you welcomed his rougher side. Because it reminded you that he was actually here, it gave you something to hold onto.

You held onto him tightly with every thrust home he made. You clung to every bruising kiss he gave you. You wished that every mark he made lasted a lifetime so you could remember this moment forever.

Once you both found your highs Steve held onto tightly. He kissed away the tears you hadn’t realised you’d shed. He muttered sweet nothings into your ears, reassuring you everything would be okay.

He swore that you’d be okay. You wanted to believe him, but you couldn’t because you knew it wasn’t true. You were about to be trapped into a loveless marriage, forced to produce an heir. All while knowing the man you truly loved was out there, out of your reach. A love that burnt bright, but far too short.

“I love you Steve” you whispered looking up at him, tears in your eyes.

“I love you too” Steve muttered, cupping your cheek and kissing you deeply.

That night after you’d fallen asleep Steve slipped out of the bed. He silently crept towards the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light so he wouldn’t accidentally wake you.

Closing the door behind him, he walked to the far corner and pulled out his phone. Staring down at the screen he wondered whether he was brainless or wise for what he was considering.

Glancing back towards the door, where you lay only a few feet away, he knew what he had to do. He had to fix this problem and nothing was going to stop him.

He dialled the number he needed, the line connecting after only a couple of rings.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky questioned.

“There’s been a change of plans, forget the Langleys, we’re taking down Drysdale and the Thrombeys instead” Steve states keeping his voice low.

“What happened?” Bucky asks.

“I’ve just learnt that there’s bigger fish to fry, and maybe the Langleys would be a good ally” Steve shrugs.

Bucky chuckles down the line “you fell for the girl didn’t you?”

Steve lets out a long sigh, there was no lying to his childhood friend “yes, can I trust you to put the gears in motion? I’m gonna hang around a little longer before heading back to New York”

“Not a problem boss” Bucky confirms.

“Good, how’s the rest of the syndicate?” Steve questions.

“Blissfully unaware that the top boss isn’t even in the state” Bucky smirks.

“Just the way I like it, see you soon buck” Steve smiles.

“Later punk,” Bucky says before hanging up.

Walking back into the bedroom he paused by the bed, looking down and watching you sleep. He was going to set you free.

Steve had never met Drysdale, but the trust fund prick had just made a deadly enemy. Because nobody took what the leader of the New York syndicate wanted and lived to tell the tale.

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honeykaes · 1 year

Text

—𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

✦ pairing: diluc x reader

✦ w/c: 3k

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, fingering, oral fixation, slight rough sex, nipple play, implied!virgin diluc, mention of blood, mention of murder, angst, takes place during diluc’s time in snezhnaya, alcohol, implied that reader has some kind of ties to fatui, unedited

✦ synopsis: as the blizzard outside your cabin continues raging and the fire in your cabin beginning to die, you go outside to get more firewood only to see a man decorated in all red narrow his eyes at you— blood staining his face and gloves with a large claymore appearing on his back and a bottle of firewater in his hand.

The dim fire crackled in the small fireplace trying to heat the chill of the wooden cabin. As you reached in the cabinets to collect some tea leaves to hopefully warm your body up more this evening, you noticed the flames of the fire dimming from orange to blue. You couldn’t resist the sigh escaping your lips.

Your cabin was always like this as the snow terrorized the environment outside filling it with a cold and icy white. The snow seemed to blow harder outside your window, adding inches to the layers of snow that would never melt in the region of frost and love.

“The Tsaritsa must be particularly angry right now, I wonder why…” you muttered. You waltz over to your box noticing only a few twigs of firewood remained—it wouldn’t be enough to keep the fire blazing the entire night. On these particular days, you wished that Natlan's Archon, Murata, blessed you with a vision to keep the chill from driving you crazy.

“Great…” you muttered, walking towards the front door to grab your coat from the rack. As you bundled yourself up, wrapping a heavy scarf to keep the cold away from your neck and lower face. You plopped your boots on, fastening them securely. Bracing yourself for the change from a slight chill to bitter cold, you opened the door seeing the woodland area covered in snow.

You quickly closed the door, praying the wind didn’t get to your dying fire as you trudged to the side and opened a small wooden box outside. As you lifted the handle, you were greeted back to a lack of dry firewood—from what was impossible was now a small miracle you had hoped would keep your fire active in your small cabin.

As you grabbed a few twigs, closing the latch back down on the now empty box, you looked up noticing a vibrant red throughout snowy white—and gasped realizing it was a man. The man had fiery scarlet hair fashioned in a high ponytail. His eyes matched as heavy eye bags laid beneath them. His outfit also showed off his love of red, but that wasn’t what scared you the most. Blood smeared across one of his cheeks, and his gloves and shoes were stained with it too as a large claymore appeared on his back.

As his eyes met yours, you felt frozen as if you were a rabbit caught under the eyes of a predator. The man brought a bottle up to his lips, taking a swig of it before letting it fall and rest on the snowy floor.

“Are you a member or have any affiliations with the Fatui,” he asked. His voice was serious and horse, eyes narrowing at your form. You quickly shook your head, raising your hands to signal you were unarmed and meant no harm.

“No, I’m not affiliated with them.. I’m..” you muttered before taking a sigh. “I’m no one and mean no harm to you. I live here to get away from all that.” He broke his intense gaze with yours, looking up to the cabin and the small glow from your fire and lamps inside.

“...May I stay the night then? This blizzard is getting worse and I need to patch my wounds up. I will be gone and out of your hair once the sun rises,” he grunted. You clenched your jaw, grabbing the small bundle of firewood closer to your chest. Your eyes narrowed into something glowing on his bloodied gloves. It was a delusion, a pyro delusion at that.

“If you keep the fireplace going with your delusion, I will agree to it, but you have to be out by sunrise. I don’t want to be caught up if any of the Fatui are after you,” you muttered. The redhead grunted once more in agreement, trudging through the snow and past you, As his hand opened the door, you saw the small blood trail he left with his feet. You looked down, kicking some of the snow to try to cover it.

“...Did I make the right decision?” you asked yourself.

As you walked back to your cabin, taking your boots, coat, and scarf off and placing the firewood where it needed to go, Diluc followed—setting the pair by the door. He made his way to the table near your fireplace, taking off his jacket wet from the snow on the back of it. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he gazed by the fire, lifting his left hand up. As his delusion glowed scarlet, the fire burned with intensity as a wave of warmth melted away any inch of cold in the cabin.

“Thank you,” you muttered. You grabbed a bucket of water, sitting next to him on a stool and a rag. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily, confused about what you were doing.

“I don’t want you trekking blood in here, so please let me help address your wounds,” you stated. Diluc merely sighed and leaned into his seat as you placed the rag into the water, soaking it before ringing it out and placing it on his cheek. Wiping the blood away, you could see just how pretty his face was. His eyes were big, jawline strong—some freckles even decorated his cheeks. To say he was pretty on the eyes was an understatement, even as you took off layers of dirt and blood from his visage.

As you finished with his face and neck, you noticed his intense gaze was back at your form. You placed the rag back into the bucket as the once-clear water turned murky.

“I need you to take your vest and other layers so I can address your chest,” you asked. The man merely scoffed, before undoing the buttons from his vest. It soon fell onto the floor revealing a white peasant shirt that soon followed suit along with his gloves, leaving his chest and arms bare to you. You’d never guess the fresh scars and wounds littering his chest and lower stomach. One of the bandages wrapped seemed soaked with fresh blood, he clearly opened it from doing whatever was outside.

“I didn’t expect someone from Snezhnaya to be so hospitable,” the man mutters. You couldn’t help but chuckle, peeling the old gauze away and letting it fall to the floor.

“Can’t judge a book by its cover, so the saying goes,” you replied. You rang the rag out again and placed it on the wound hearing him suck a breath in. You tried dabbing it to avoid causing more pain to him but to clean the area up.

“I’m guessing you're from Mondstadt though based on your accent. I read in books that Mondstadters appreciate hospitality a lot. That true?” you asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you, not saying a word. It seemed he didn’t want more of his identity to slip out; it may be better that way for you too but yet…

“...Why are you after Fatui?” you asked, lifting the rag away from him again. You lifted the bucket away, reaching under your cabinet to get the gauze and alcohol you recently purchased during your short trip to the city.

“How do you know that? Who's to say the Fatui aren’t after me,” he grunted. You sighed, motioning him to lift his upper half towards you and he followed. You brought a fresh rag onto the distilled bottle of alcohol, letting it soak up before placing it back onto his wound. He hissed loudly glaring down at you.

“I guess you’re right but the look you gave me was one of revenge. Someone on a mission. I’m well aware of the Tsaritsa’s agents. They commit atrocities and cruelties for the love of their archon. It's safe to assume you got caught into that somehow,” you murmured. The man merely scoffed once more as you began wrapping gauze around his chest, covering the newly made battle wounds from your gaze.

“Well aren’t you a clever one. It sounds like you’re quite familiar with them. Were you lying to me,” he muttered, eyes glaring into your own. You merely shrugged.

“I wasn’t but let’s say they’re part of the reason I put myself through living in these conditions here. Perhaps one day I can move to Mondstadt. I heard their archon doesn’t let the snow come in. Just warmth, happiness, and hospitality, right?” you chuckled to yourself. The man’s gaze left yours momentarily, looking into the fire with a far-away expression on his face. Your face slightly softened; you wondered if he misses home.

“That bottle of fire water you were drinking earlier and left outside tells me you’re trying to numb yourself to complete your revenge. Is it to make it easier to take their lives or is it to lessen the pain of grief? …You do know they’re other ways of doing that” you muttered, leaning into his face. You lifted your hand up, hand gazing on his smooth and clean cheek as his eyes snapped back to you. Your thumb pressed against his soft bottom lip, as he parted them—an unreadable expression swirling in his scarlet eyes.

“Trying to seduce me to avoid suspicion. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” he grumbled. You expected him to push your hand away and turn around yet, he remained still—eyes even softening to your own.

“Why do it, I don’t get it,” he mumbled. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked away from his gaze.

“We all have our own baggage,” you replied. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he soon leaned into your face. Your noses brushed against one another as you tried to resist the urge to gasp from his sudden movement.

“Then I guess the only words I want to hear from you tonight is my name, Diluc,” he whispered, taking your hand away from his lips tightly clasping it with his large palms. As your lips connected, your eyes fluttered closed, soon placing their hands on Diluc’s firm chest. A moan reverberated out of you feeling his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, tongue soon darting into your mouth as he finally rose up. His hands were firmly placed on your waist, awkwardly guiding you to your small bed.

As you two parted—lips glossy as a string of saliva connected the two of you—the springs of the mattress squeaked trying to adjust to the two bodies on it. As Diluc remained on top of you, his hands soon made way for the band of your pants, tugging them down to reveal your underwear to him. As the flimsy fabric followed and he guided it down your leg, his eyes focused on your entrance, now revealed to him. He could see your cunt, pulsating as his cock pressed uncomfortably in his tight pants.

The brought his finger towards your slit, sliding it up and down, noticing the way your body jolted whenever he came in contact with a nub towards the top. He pressed the pad of his thumb on it, rubbing small and firm circles along it as your body squirmed underneath him. A small smile etched itself on his lips, noticing his fingers beginning to get wet from your slick starting to sob out of you.

“Do you ask all the strange men outside to do this to you,” he murmured into your ear. You opened your eyes at him, scowling at the man—lips quivering from the attention he was giving your sensitive clit.

“No, of course not. Fuck…You’re the first,” you groaned. Diluc’s heart fluttered momentarily, trying to stop his cheeks from getting ready with no success. A scowl remained on his face, partially ashamed he was so worked up after that, grinding his hips into your thigh to get any bit of friction he could to relieve his arousal.

“Well aren’t I special,” he grunted, his thumb remaining on your clit before he brought two fingers towards your opening slowly sinking them in as you shutter. As he pumped them inside of you, your hands reached out towards the bottom of your shirt lifting your shirt up to reveal your chest. Diluc’s lips quivered soon pressing his lips on your hardened nipple as you gasped. His teeth graze upon the sensitive bud soon pulling it up, as a moan of pleasure and pain escapes from you. Slowly his pace inside of you as his mind was wrapped up on your chest, he doesn’t notice his fingers beginning to curl inside of you as you choked out his name loudly in the cabin.

“Fuck, there! More. Right there, Diluc!” you begged. Snapping out of a haze, Diluc rested his head on your chest, looking back down to pay attention to his fingers. He began pumping faster, keeping his fingers curled to the spot you keep squirming from. Squelching noises echoed out into the room from how fast Diluc thrust his fingers inside of you. With one last pump, your hands shot to his thick, wavy hair, body shivering in pleasure as you finally reach your high. He could feel how tightly your velvety cunt squeezed onto his fingers, soon pulling them out of you. Strains of your click clung onto his fingers, his hand now glistening in it.

As your chest rose and fell, trying to catch your breath, Diluc popped the button of his pants freeing his cock. He pumped his hand decorated with your slick with his cock, pulsating and twitching, eager to replace his fingers inside of you. It was thick in girth and long in length with prominent veins running along the sides—his tip already budded with precum.

As he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock ran along your slit—swiping it up and down, nudging his flushed tip at your clit. He soon moved it down, trying to slide it inside of you but seemed to fail each time.

“Diluc,” you murmured out, confused and ready to help him. He clenched his jaw and narrowed down at your pussy, clearly frustrated and embarrassed.

“Shut up. Don’t say anything,” he grunted. He firmly pressed his thumb on one of your soft folds, swiping it to the side to help widen you out more. As he finally sinks his tip in, he sucked a breath in hearing a low moan from you. He continued this motion for a while—dipping his tip inside of you before pulling it out—fascinated by the softness and tightness of your cunt.

“Diluc! Stop teasing me and put it inside of me already,” you shouted in desperation. He scoffed, momentarily rolling his eyes before finally sheathing his cock inside of you. You choked out his name trying to adjust to his length—feeling your walls burn in anger as you were steadily stretched out until he was buried deep inside of you.

His nails bury themselves into your hips as he soon begins to thrust inside of you, the mattress groaning with every stroke of his cock. A groan escaped Diluc’s lips, addicted to the feeling of having your cunt squeeze him, trying to milk every drop from him. His balls smacked against your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist.

Lost in the pleasure, Diluc let one of his hands go from your hips noting the crescent moons already developing there before grabbing onto your chin. Just as you did earlier, his thumb pressed along your lips, soon parting them and resting on your tongue. You swirled the muscle around his thumb, your moans now muffled from it feeling his cock twitch inside of you as he propelled his cock inside of you faster.

As you tried to move your hand down to play with your clit, Diluc smacked your hand away as he grunted loudly in your ear. Unlike before, his callous thumb was rougher flicking your clit rapidly as your body writhed in pleasure

“J-Just tell me what to do instead—” he grunted. He wanted to cement this memory in his head, watching your body sway to the pace of his thrusts. Your cunt fluttered down, making it harder for him to move his cock inside of you. Your teeth cave down on his finger as your eyes shut tightly, reaching your second climax of the night. As he let his hand go from your chin and mouth, his hand connected with the headboard of the bed—gripping it tightly as his knuckles went white, his strokes inside of you getting rapid and unsteady.

Before he could close his eyes and let himself spill his cum inside of you, he quickly pulled out pumping his cock a few times. A loud groan erupted from him as thick white ropes of cum spurted out of his flushed tip, splaying across your lower stomach and chest.

Diluc tried to ease his rapid heartbeat and wipe the sweat from his brow. He let the ribbon of his hair go, long hair releasing and cascading down his body. You lay there watching him soon rest beside you, catching his breath as you looked over to the fireplace, crackling and brighter than ever.

Neither of you said a word to one another as you lay next to each other in the small twin bed, mixed emotions swirling between the two of you. For you, you were in the arms of a murderer—someone on the run who would make the Tsaritsa and Fatui happy to see dead. For him, he let his urges get the better of him, sleeping with a “civilian” of an enemy nation responsible for his father’s demise, yet this was the most at peace he was for a long time.

You two knew by morning he would be gone, never to be seen by you again but for now, in the bitter cold—the two of you could use each other for now, warm in each other arms as the blizzard blew loudly.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #diluc x reader #diluc smut #diluc imagines #diluc scenarios #genshin imagines

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valentiyne · 7 months

Text

𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Fem!Reader Warnings: Slight Cursing & Soft!Cal. Summary: Requested! Blind date with Calum, a match made in heaven, or a bundle of awkwardness and spilled drinks? Word Count: 2.1k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

You weren't even sure how you managed to end up in this position.

Your skin-colored leggings suffocate your thighs, your heels marking your ankles with raw blisters, and the mini skirt your roommate begged you to wear riding up every damn step you take. She wanted to play matchmaker for the night, claiming this guy she knew from work was "my other half." Now here I was, walking down Hollywood Boulevard in an outfit that a paper towel could probably cover more skin.

The restaurant she told you to meet him at was 20 minutes away from our shared apartment, and you had to be shoved to finally walk out the door. I had no idea who I was meeting or his name.

"You have fun, be safe and I packed a few condoms in your bag!", she pushed me out the door, waving ecstatically with a high-pitched squeal.

A few?

I look up the see the tiny diner come into view, her excuse being "he can't technically be seen in any major restaurants." whatever that means.

Pushing the doors open, I look around the empty room. It wasn't too late at night, only being 7PM- but it was a Monday. The back walls were all mirrors, making me avert my attention to myself and what I was wearing once again. I had stopped and looked at my reflection every chance I got on my way here, and now that I'm placing it in this diner- I am way overdressed. A few coffee pots were on warmers, probably hours old and bitter. The jukebox in the corner was playing some Elvis song that Chloe could name if you played it backward, and I smiled at the thought nevertheless.

"Have a seat anywhere", the waitress calls from the back and I give a faint smile to her. I spot someone sitting in the back left corner, opposite to the Jukebox, a menu propped up to cover their entire face.

Is that him?

I slowly walked towards the booth, looking around once more before standing in front of the occupied table. I cleared my throat quietly, hopefully to grasp their attention.

"Excuse me? Um are you here for a date", I ask after no response, mentally praying I wasn't completely embarrassing myself with a total stranger.

The menu flew down with a gust of wind following, my hair twirling back as I made eye contact with brown eyes and freshly dyed blue hair.

"Hey, Yeah that's me", He smiles nervously, his hand leaning up awkwardly to shake. I quirk an eyebrow at him and slowly slide into the booth across from him, shaking his hand slowly.

"I'm Y/n, a friend of Chloe's", I smile nevertheless, ignoring his very visible awkwardness.

I glance down at the table now, noticing the single menu sprawled out infront of him.

He clears his throat before speaking, extending his hand out once more before retracting it quickly, "I'm Calum."

"Any reason there's only one menu, Calum?", I lightly joke, pointing down at the menu he still had grasped in one hand. His eyes go wide and he slides it over to my side of the table, muttering curse words under his breath.

"Shit sorry, I completely spaced it and told the waitress it was a table for one- maybe two", a hand flies up to the back of his neck and I take note that they are painted silver, clasped with multiple various rings.

I put a hand up to reassure him, a light smile paints my pink lips and he throws his head back and laughs- mainly at himself.

"Tell me about yourself?", He dares to ask, his eyes looking up to meet mine as I focus my attention on the condensation dripping down and pooling from my water glass.

"There's not much to say really, I'm a full-time employee who barely has time to sleep", I laugh softly, toying with the straw settled in my water. That was the stupidest response I could've given.

"I understand the no sleep, I'm always on tour with my mates so sleep is usually the least of my worries", He leans his back against the seat, folding his hands on the table neatly.

"You're in a band? What do you play?"

Calum proceeds to tell me everything there is to know about him- life on tour, the crazed obsessed fans, and the 'sexy' bass he picked up the other night. I sat and listened to every word of it, not bothering to interrupt how passionate he sounded about his hobbies. It gave me a sense of relief knowing he didn't find me boring compared to his hectic lifestyle, maybe even reassured that there's more to life than status.

"Were you two ready to order?", the waitress from before calls from a few tables away, her hands full with ketchup bottles. I look down at my phone to notice that Calum had been talking for 30 consecutive minutes- not letting the overworked waitress take our order sooner.

"Oh yes! I'm so sorry, can we just get one banana split to share?", I smile at the girl and she returns the favor with a slight thumbs up.

Calum turns to me with a laugh, "Really?".

"What?" I laugh now too, it was almost contagious at this point.

"A banana split? I invite you to dinner and you get desert?"

My mouth drops open, and I lean across the table to playfully smack his hand. He retracts his hand quickly, reaching up to push two fingers against my forehead to stop me from reaching across any further.

"There's nothing wrong with dessert for dinner, Calum"

"Never said there was, Y/n"

He shrugs in agreement before pushing his water to the side to make room for the incoming plate. The waitress places the monstrous desert before us, two spoons on the plate and she drops a few napkins at his side.

"You two enjoy!"

We both thank her kindly before I look back towards Calum, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he tries to process how we are both going to manage to finish this. Instead, he leans down with his mouth open wide at the desert to playfully take a chomp at the whipped cream that was piled on.

"Calummmm", I whine, swatting him away as he gives me a cream filled smile. I watch as his eyes make contact with the mountain of whip cream before him and devilish smirk appears. He then leans up quickly, snatching a scoop of the whip cream with his fingers to fling at me. I burrow closer to me seat, protecting my face with my hands as I squeal loudly. In one swift moment, his hand reached across towards me and knocked both of our waters onto the table- destroying our desert.

"Oh shit", he says quickly, his hands flying to tug the napkin from under the plate between us and attempting to clean the mess with one lone napkin.

"You're an idiot", I say in between laughs, my hands wrapped around my stomach to contain the pain now emerging with every breath.

He grumbles something under his breath before he begins laughing himself, his cheeks squishing against his eyes and face bright red.

"Can I say I officially ruined this date? Yeah?" Calum inquires, his eyes traveling down to the drenched shirt I now wore.

"Nah, I think it's probably the best date I've ever been on", I scoop up a piece of our watery banana split, eyeing it for a moment before dropping the spoon back down in the puddle. Calum works on cleaning the rest of the water off the table, attempting to ease the workload on our waitress.

"Let me get you a new shirt at least?", He opens his wallet, tossing more than enough to cover the bill before sliding out of the booth. I nod in agreement and push all the dishes to the front of the table for the waitress, giving him a laugh before sliding out with him.

"Already trying to take my clothes off?", I tease, earning a new formed look of horror on his face. "I'm just teasing, sure I would love a new shirt." He extends a hand down for me to take and I gladly accept it, walking out of the diner with an apologetic wave to the waitress. Calum kept his hand clasped in mine tightly, his head bowed down up until the point we reached the car. I paid no mind to it, knowing the underlying meaning behind the secrecy of our encounter.

"Is it okay if we go back to mine? If you want I can take you home and-", He begins rambling, his hand opening the passenger door for me. I nod my head, plopping down into the seat and clasping the seatbelt across my chest. He gives a faint smile and closes the door behind me with a "Watch your tail."

As he walked around the car to his side, I could've sworn I heard a "Yes!" from under his breath.

Calum's house was more than I expected, it was clasped with vintage decor and numerous shelves honoring his awards and medals. Sure, I knew he was in a band, but this wasn't what I exactly had in mind. I think I expected the house to be littered with clothes from numerous hookups or even just sheets of music paper everywhere. He tossed his keys into a bowl in the hallway, slipping his shoes off and neatly tucking them away. I take note of it and slide my heels off as well, pushing them aside as I step onto the cold hardwood.

"Let me grab you something to wear", Calum says as he makes his way down the hall and toward what I'm assuming is his bedroom. I hear little footsteps bolting my way and I turn around to see a salt and pepper puppy at my feet, circling me as it sniffed.

"Hey little guy", I crouch down to offer a hand before scrunching at its neck.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted a hoodie or a shirt since your top is kinda small- not that that's a bad thing but you must be cold from the wa-", his voice echoes in the hallway, getting louder before he suddenly stops infront of me.

"Who's this?", I ask as the dog licks away at my hand, tail wagging so quickly I was sure he would start floating.

"Oh! I forgot to mention I had a dog", Calum crouches down, picking up the dog and placing him on the couch next to him. "That's Duke, hope you're not allergic or anything." I shake my head, my heart growing at the mere thoughtfulness that he has shown me throughout the night.

He holds up two options to wear. The first being a white and red t-shirt with some type of writing sprawled on it and the second being a oversized green hoodie with embroidery on the front.

"Now these are my prized possessions, If I let you borrow one I'll expect a second date in return. Deal?" He says hopefully, holding both out towards me and I hesitate for a moment between the two.

"They are that important to you huh?", I smile and grab the hoodie to feel the texture of it before deciding on it, grabbing it from his hand. He points at a door down the hallway he just exited from with a nod,

"You have no idea.."

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decaying-words · 16 days

Text

The Innocent

All chapters Jonathan Crane x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 4.1k words TW & tags: NonCon, fear kink, masturbation, awful everything AO3 • All my stories

"She whimpers audibly, her scent turning acrid and pungent now; fear, she reeks of fear. I pant, a hundred meters behind her, putting enough distance to remain a formless creature while still appearing very much real in the dim light. The soft tremor turns into heavy shaking when she turns her head behind her shoulder, as if to convince herself that this is just a dream, just like the others she’s had. Then she screams, oh! she screams…"

The Innocent

Foreign music notes of a perhaps forgotten song vibrate in my dry throat in low hums, barely covering the insistent scratch of the fountain pen darkening the cream coloured papers splayed on my antique desk. The watch which delicately sublimes my bony wrist with its dark brown Italian leather and finely carved metal hands indicate three hours and fifty-six minutes in the afternoon; I still have four whole minutes, I realize with a palpable excitement that is most unwelcome in my line of work. My patient is, without a single doubt, already waiting in the other room; I will not greet her before the time has come, for it is absolutely crucial to not reveal any ounce of delight or impatience. In fact, I must remain perfectly professional, detached and clinical, or else I am taking the risk of exposing my ulterior motives and intimate desires.

Four minutes is exactly the amount of time needed to adjust my tie (dark brown as well; a color not too contrasting to my marble pallor and which makes me look distinguished and inspires confidence, a key component in my profession), inspect my impeccable tweed vest made of Irish virgin wool dyed an exquisite amber color, and delicately clean the lenses of my round glasses with a microfiber cloth. Three hours fifty-nine; the last notes fade on my chapped lips when I leave my cognac leather armchair and direct my wiry frame to the door, spidery fingers holding the brass handle which feels pleasantly cold against my tight skin.

Within my aging ribcage are percussions worthy of Ravel’s Bolero; intense in nature and laced with the fruitful musicality of controlled nerves. The entrance is methodical, natural and restrained, with a smile, polite enough to be welcoming but faint enough to remain professional, and soft crow’s feets rolling in a pleasantness that seems genuine. There are no emotions in my eyes; yet, dissimulated behind my glasses it might be hard to tell. My voice is warm and comforting, despite the crystal-like brokenness of its undertones which has been forged through the years.

Her smile, painted in a shiny coral red, is wide and transpires a heavy relief. She has been looking forward to our session all week long, I am sure; she reminds me of a teapot in the way she lets her worries fester until they turn ugly and make her completely dysfunctional. Her fingers cross and uncross nervously on her lap, as if incapable of knowing what to do with her own body, before she stands up, flattening her perfectly ironed marine blue pencil skirt, and retrieves her matching blazer jacket. I hold the door open and she penetrates my office with a footstep so light it could have belonged to a ghost; I notice the floral notes of her perfume, horrifyingly sweet and childish.

Through the nine sessions we had together, it is worth mentioning that her outfits are always delicately picked, colors matching and completed with a set of earrings (one on each lobe), a gourmette bracelet with her name engraved (a baptism gift, I reckon), and a now very familiar pearl necklace which I abhor passionately. Her hair is always impeccably styled down and her face painted just enough to be womanly without looking like a whore; something important, I suppose, for it matters greatly to her father. She reminds me of a ventriloquist’s doll, carrying a fabricated superficiality that betrays the profound emptiness of her soul. I am not certain she likes her appearance very much, the short heeled suede shoes, the old-fashioned manicure or the vulgar pearl necklace; but rather that she likes the simulacre of control on her life this shows on the outside, especially to her father, a figure we never cease to talk about.

My patient does not sit down until I instruct her to, the anxiety to pick the wrong choice and disappointment still viciously anchored in her childhood; an emotionally absent and academically demanding father tends to create such complex insecurities in the younger hearts. I would know. As always, we will be talking about it; and as always, she will unravel the same pointless secrets in an uninteresting logorrhoea that could very well bore me to death if it weren’t for the topic of her recurrent nightmares, cautiously sprinkled in her stories and immensely more fascinating —from a clinical point of view, of course.

I am taking place in the armchair in front of hers, crossing one leg on top of the other, not dissimilar to two long and pale sticks enveloped in soft and tasteful fabric. My elevated ankle reveals the smallest ounce of marble skin, adorned with arched tendons which roll and disappear beneath the dark Egyptian cotton of my socks. I sense her heavy gaze following the slender silhouette of my legs to the tip of the deep brown leather of my derby shoes; a rosy tint blooms on her cheeks and my lips twitch in amused curiosity while she plays nervously with the pearls of this dreadful necklace which she is, in my humble opinion, either too old or too young to wear. She feels desire for me, despite being a couple of decades older than her; an expression, I believe, of her yearning for a paternal love, approval and affection.

My notebook lays graciously on my lap, angled in such a way that makes it impossible for her to see what I will be writing down, my treasured pen already in my hand. Adjusting my glasses on the long bridge of my aquiline nose, I offer her yet another muted smile, a silent invitation to begin the session; she appears flustered, blushing some more as I seem to have interrupted her train of thoughts —probably too vulgar for the image of herself she is desperately fabricating. I wonder if she is a virgin still, having spent the essential of her miserable life catering to her father’s needs and putting aside her own intimate desires; this would explain the subtle perfume of her throbbing sex floating in my office.

I find myself more than passively listening to her most uninteresting week in a way that freezes my nerves and makes me question my career choice, gently guiding her back to the heart of her confusing weaving as she wanders and rambles incoherently. None of her anecdotes are of importance to me, subtly urging her to open the can of her anxieties and core reason for her very presence on my couch; her recurring and unexplained nightmares.

A couple of months ago, this patient reached out to me in an attempt to exorcize her most intimate thoughts and find a more peaceful slumber. When asked the nature of her night terrors, she confessed, with great difficulty and restraint at first, having this peculiar dream for years now in which she finds herself wandering around the unknown alleys of a surrealist city reminiscing of a dark and sterile-looking maze. She can never tell where she is, every window and every door looking the same, every turn sensibly similar to the next, the streetlights aggressively cutting harsh shadows against the smooth walls of the buildings.

As her journey progresses, she notices a shadowy form following her every step and which does not make a noise aside from an ominous buzzing that makes the lights crackle; though it has not touched her yet, its presence alone is dreadful and suffocating enough to make her survival instincts kick in. She runs through the maze-like alleys in a vain hope to escape the figure, never successful in her doing; the shadow creeping at every corner, slipping through the cracks of the building like a liquid void, looming over her like a toxic cloud, and always watching her with empty eyes and whispering incomprehensible and otherworldly things in a gnarly voice resembling a sinister borborygmus.

She wakes up screaming, in tears and drenched in sweat before it can seize her.

There is an obvious answer behind her anxiety, one draped in the cloak of her oppressing father; and yet, despite the last few unproductive sessions and unfruitful attempts to take in my hypothesis, she rejects all and any idea of daddy dearest being the root of her misery. My poor sweet girl. Through her almost touching callowness if it weren’t laced with pungent naïveté, I find great intellectual pleasure in studying her profound fear; sometimes, when the moon hits and soaks my office in a creamy light, I dissect my numerous notes, each scribbled word reminiscing me of her giant doll-like eyes turning glassy with emotion, her painted lips aquiver with wretched anguish, her neatly cared eyebrows knitted in visible despair. She reminds me viciously of a newborn deer, frail and fragile; a sight so delicious it never fails to make my turgid sex throb in interest. I have learnt since to keep my legs crossed in front of her, of course.

Her fear is at the image of her personality; carefully crafted by her visceral fantasies which she struggles to control, as if her fabricated identity would cease and disappear if she knew how to confront it. There is something delectable in her innocent emotions, something exquisitely cruel in how laughable of a person she is, and I find myself morbidly curious to see her façade break and release her true self, dying and being born again. It is exhilarating really, the prospect of witnessing her weak mind shatter and rebuild itself, morphing into something pure and liberated, surpassing her ugly cocoon.

Fear is the most sublime emotion, a capricious mistress that transforms all beings into primal creatures; there is a beast inside all of us, I firmly believe, a döppleganger, infinitely mightier and profoundly fascinating, that only fear can free and liberate. I based my entire life on understanding the beauty of fear and how to elevate and transcend it, achieving our most glorious form; prying at people’s most intimate insecurities and feeding them the putrid fruits they truly do need to alter their mind irremediably, for their own benefit, I am certain. As such, it is past the clinical need but rightfully with a voracious desire and spiritual intention that I wish to see and unravel my Innocent’s breaking point.

The sound of her trembled sob wakes me from my contemplative state, and I realize with great indifference that I missed her last couple of sentences, which I believe gave her yet another heartache. My occulted gaze devours the sight of her pained face, glassy eyes crying perfectly round and warm tears, her bunny nose reddening; I do not care much for her grief, an emotion I find particularly repulsive and grotesque and which she seems to feel quite frequently; this might be why I find her so unpleasant to be around. Instead, I hand her the tissue box that she politely accepts, wiping her tears and runny nose.

The corner of my mouth twitches in disgust when I see her nervously touch her pearl necklace once again. This abominable pearl necklace that embodies everything about her that I hate; her child-like appearance despite being well into her thirties, her synthetic demeanor forged by an unyielding desire to be loved, her emotionally incestuous relationship with her undeserving father and her complete and total lack of self-esteem.

Today’s session comes to an end and I am afraid we did not progress much, to my great dismay. I offer her the same frigid smile in which she always seems to find comfort when I open the door and shake her hand, a stark contrast to the warmth and subtle stickiness of her skin. She thanks me profusely and I nod in return, wishing her a pleasant rest of the day; I will be seeing her next week.

My simulacre of a smile fades as soon as she exits my office, a boiling irritation tinting the tip of my ears a crimson color, akin to a single rose in a snowy garden. I take an involuntary peek at my reflection in the window as I run a wiry hand in the dark feathers of my hair, silvering at the temples, a few gray strands adorning the generally brown mass. My thick eyebrows are knitted together in profound frustration, collecting today’s notes and sitting at my desk to study them. I cannot be satisfied with the glimpse of her unfledged anxieties, our exchanges do not nurture me professionally or otherwise ; slumping heavily in the leather armchair, a deep sigh swelling my tight chest, I lose myself in the labyrinthic corners of my mind, all the while ignoring the aggressive hardness of my sex, its throbbing feeling like the greatest treason in this precise moment.

I will not bring myself to completion tonight, for I find her fear vulgar and unworthy of my seed, a womb so barren it feels utterly meaningless. I will not even touch myself, I decide, denying her the attention and importance she desperately yearns for, refusing to besmirch my pride for such an insensitive mind. She is spoiling the sap of her soul in a way that is perfectly unacceptable to me and makes her look profoundly hideous; and I refuse to harvest the rotten fruits of a putrid heart. Instead, I will spend the night lost in my thoughts, with deep indignation for sole company.

It took me a complete day to recover from my turmoil and hatch a plan I deem satisfying, and four more to establish a detailed inventory of her nightly habits; following her at a reasonable distance in a now familiar fashion, carefully noting down any information of importance, I managed to know exactly when she finishes work, which Café she frequents, where she goes grocery shopping, which metro she takes home… During the day and in between two consultations, I conscientiously study the map of her neighborhood, carving in my memory every alley, every path, every building until I have a clear representation of my hunting territory. Victorious is a word that comes to my mind after such rewarding labor.

Tonight is the night. I am wearing my real skin, flesh made of burlap and soiled rag, fur made of dry straw and rotten thread stitching my articulations together. The used rope rolls like tendons around my throat, the noose loose enough to breath but not enough for it to be comfortable; a simple pleasure that will leave bruised memories on my neck like a passionate lover would. I caress my clothed form, the sensation unpleasant and rough to the touch and yet so deliciously stimulating, a sensation that never fails to make me hum appreciatively, heartbeat inappropriately lively for a Scarecrow .

It is ten hours and forty-five minutes on a Thursday night; she has been to the library tonight, devouring romance novels with her third cup of herbal tea –something horrifyingly fruity, I assume. An activity she indulges frequently, seeking refuge and comfort in the elegant place, something I cannot blame her for, considering the depraved state of the rest of Gotham, in stark contrast to the magnificence of the old architecture. This habit will also work in my favor, draping myself in the thickness of the night, my elongated figure barely noticeable in the corner of the street; at best, two glowing orbs pierce the obscurity, reminiscent of an animal of some sort, or better yet of an unsettling monster.

I hum the broken notes of an unknown song, a simple habit that feels right, lured in the dark and waiting for her to penetrate the first alley; I recognize her ghost-like footstep, short heels clacking subtly on the pavement, naive and unaware. Oh, my sweet girl.

She does not sense me for the first two hundred meters, her oblivious demeanor both entertaining and frustrating. There is something viscerally exquisite about seeing without being seen, teasing a very particular part of me; an almost erotic melange of power and impunity. I came to realize with age and experience that hunting is not dissimilar to foreplay, and therein lies my current problem; foreplay is not endless teasing, for I am neither patient nor interested in maintaining myself on the edge of my pleasure. And when I am being ignored for too long, I cannot help but feel somewhat insulted; ultimately, I want her to see me.

My fingernails tap and scratch the cold bricks, an abominable gurgling noise escaping my fatigued throat. She freezes instantly, and my sex twitches in sensible interest which I attempt to calm down, a feverish excitement pooling in my stomach. I distinguish the tremor in her silhouette and her breath hitching ever so slightly, a subtle perfume floating in the air, one that I know by heart now and makes my mind sing and mouth salivate. She does not look behind her, a wise choice I would say under more normal circumstances, her pace quickening in the narrow alley right between the first and third street of Gray Avenue.

I inhale the acidic perfume of my body; I would like to say that my entire form is impregnated with the residuals of an old chemical toxin I’ve developed decades ago, but perhaps it is simply my own essence, now corrupted to its very core. I am certain that the delirious effects of these quasi pheromones will soon hit her as well and change her like I expect her to.

As she navigates through the almost pitch black alleys, fingertips grazing at the walls to help her find her way, I wheeze a wretched noise from within my ribcage, dreadful sounds I have been practicing since I was born and which never seems to get old. My poor girl is sobbing earnestly now, an arm wrapped around her middle section as if to seek comfort, almost running away from me, her short heels making a music akin to a typewriter in the night of Gotham. I am fully aware I have her complete attention, but I wish she would just look at me.

I run after her, vomiting more guttural gibberish from my distorted voice, fingernails hitting and scratching every surface in a pleading cacophony. She whimpers more frankly, I can tell how delicate her nerves are at this very moment. In her panic, she picks the wrong turn. Exquisite.

She looks around her with agony and confusion, persuaded that she would be welcomed by a bridge crossing the river of the Old Street; instead, she is met with a damp and sinister dead end. She whimpers audibly, her scent turning acrid and pungent now; fear, she reeks of fear . I pant, a hundred meters behind her, putting enough distance to remain a formless creature while still appearing very much real in the dim light. The soft tremor turns into heavy shaking when she turns her head behind her shoulder, as if to convince herself that this is just a dream, just like the others she’s had. Then she screams, oh! she screams…

Her crystalline voice breaks and shatters, pure and visceral, high pitched and perverted with terror; I am so hard I could hammer a nail in raw wood. I move in a dislocated fashion, long limbs akin to spider legs, the nightmarish look making her trip and fall on her bottom and crawl back, fingers desperately digging in the cold pavement until a nail breaks, curling her form into a ball in a damp corner. She cries so hard her face turns ruby red, smeared mascara leaving dark streaks on her puffy cheeks, glistening saliva bubbling on her screaming lips – oh, how beautiful she is, my sweet girl. My cock feels heavy in my now awfully tight pants; under different circumstances, maybe I would have offered her a different fate.

She hides her face in her arms, fingers grabbing ferociously at her hair as if trying to wake herself up, but she doesn’t, no, she doesn’t wake up, and the reality is sinking in, especially when I am standing not even five meters in front of her. There is a bitter, stinging smell in the air, and a recognizable warm golden puddle underneath her shaking body that glistens beautifully under the moonlight; I purr in between two groans, witnessing her weakest form dissolve and collapse into the void of her mind that I have conceived. I want to create her anew, an abomination made of flesh and terror, and she will recognize me as her cruel Creator. My low distorted voice echoes in the muted alley, inspired and impassioned.

Are you afraid, child?

She screams louder, screams for help, screams for her life. But no one will save her, not here, not in Gotham, not this pathetic piss soaked girl . I mock and taunt her, towering over her as she chokes on her own sobs, desperate and painfully lonely. Why won’t anyone save me , she must be thinking. Why did Father lock me in this cell, she must be thinking. Why did Father abandon me in the cornfield. My laugh sounds more like a croak, sinister and penetrating, while she begs me for her life.

Do you know who I am, child?

She does not. I blame it on her delirious state, on her body pumping her full of adrenaline, and most probably the toxins my body produces and which she’s been inhaling. This will not do, however; I want to ruin her in a way that matters, and for that to happen I need her to know who I am, what I represent.

I crouch in front of her weaker form, barking her name and demanding she looks at me, which she does, obediently so; I reiterate my question, my hands hunched like claws scratching the walls around her. She cries harder, but her body produces no more tears, exhausted and drained; she screws her eyes shut and so I have no other option but to grab her hair viciously, forcing her to look at me.

And she does, oh she does , giant glassy eyes that lost their innocent spark and instead glow with a fury only trauma could forge and terror could sublimate. She sees the humiliation and the absence, the neglect and the judgment; she sees what she could have been if it had not been taken away from her. She does not say it but she mouths it, the two syllables of her misery.

Father.

My cackle is nothing short of demoniac, entire body jerking wildly enough to remember my turgid sex still leaking its filth in my ruined pants, heartbeat frantic as I am slowly but surely reaching my peak; release is not only needed but deserved , I believe, as my hand crawl inside my pants and free my cock, seizing it in a vicious grip that is mostly pain under her terrified and disgusted gaze. I take in her beautifully wrecked face as I pump myself with vigor and intent while croaking heavy moans, my eyes devouring every single wrinkle, every tear and tremor, swallowing the sight of the tense tendons of her throat choking on her sobs until I hiss in disgust at the repugnant pearl necklace.

She does not need it anymore, I believe. And so, in a movement aquiver with lust and desire, my knotted fingers slip under the chain akin to a snake closing its embrace. She shrieks in pain when I pull tightly, a most needed evil I am afraid although ephemeral, the horrendous necklace eventually giving in to my brutal punishment and breaking. I hear the clattering of the pearls falling and rolling on the pavement, hand still tightly locked around my cock as I fuck my fist earnestly in deliciously wet noises; she caresses the skin of her bare neck, as if understanding something, her terrified eyes turning back at me and begging me to let her go. Oh, my sweet child, be certain that I will miss your honeyed pleas…

My orgasm comes quickly, long spurts of milky cum spilling on her throat, the soft flesh now adorning a unique, more appropriate and beautiful set of pearls. A generous gift, one she will remember fondly, I am certain. Her lower lips tremble as more tears roll down her cheek, although not a sound comes out of her mouth. I understand, it is a lot to process. Therapy can be difficult sometimes.

I left her alone to collect herself. Once home, and after a quick yet invigorating shower, I became busy writing down in great detail tonight’s experiment and, one must admit, its most triumphant outcome.

The day before our scheduled appointment, she informed me that she would not be able to come, pretending to have a cold. I understood, of course, and asked her if I would see her next week then. She said that she wasn’t certain, and that she would call back. She never did.

#jonathan crane #the scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #the scarecrow x reader #fanfic #my writing

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