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vampyrgoff · 1 year

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NSFW alphabet: Vincent Sinclair

vincent sinclair x reader

contains— nsfw!MDNI switch!vincent, switch!reader, a little bit of a spit kink, fem!reader, breeding kink here and there, NOT PROOFREAD, blood kink/knife play, mentions of masturbation, mommy kink (very slightly)

word count— 3.4k words and 18.2k characters

vampyr’s note—THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ANYTHING FOR ANYONE LOL (first time writing on Tumblr that is) and Vinny might be out of character but i tried! I'm also figuring out how i want my posts to be laid out so if you have any recommendations pls let me know 😭(PLS SEND REQUEST BTW) Some good friends of mine requested that I attempt writing this so here goes nothing :) (content starts under the cut!)

gif isn't mine!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

vincent is the BEST at aftercare (don't argue with me about this). after a long session of you guys fucking, he's already getting up frantically trying to get a rag and clean you up the best he could.

personally, I think he runs the bath for you both to get in. he definitely leads you to the bath and lets you lay on top of him. he'll also wash your hair for you or detangle it all while he's kissing your temple and shoulder every few minutes. if you have any hickeys on your body, he'll kiss every mark.

vincent also massages your shoulders and will wash your body (if you let him of course) humming every now and then to further soothe you as you lay on his chest, feeling the vibrations from the light hums.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't think vincent has a favorite body part of his. if he did have to choose, it would be his hands. his hands are great, they make you cum, they kill, they create beautiful drawings, and they sculpt beautiful pieces of art. he loves when he catches you staring at his hands aswell. a surge of confidence will run through him.

you're sitting next to vincent while he sketches up a new drawing. every now and then hearing a mumble or sigh of frustration when something doesn't look the way he wants it to. you've been begging for him to give you attention for the last hour already, and still, no attention comes from all your whining.

you finally look over to his hand and think about all the times they've done wonders for you. his hands are very scarred and they're always so warm to the touch. sometimes when you play with his fingers he'll pull away in fear you'll think his hands are ugly but for you it's quite the opposite.

you're daydreaming at this point, staring at his hands and you don't even realize that vincent has been staring at you for the past few minutes. he raises from his desk chair and takes a long stride over to you while you sit and he looks down at you. cockily, he'll put his fingers on your lips, tracing them while his hand rubs and caresses your throat. he loves it when you mewl and melt in his arms when he does things like this. he'll tap on your lips twice with his index finger and out of instinct you stick your tongue out as vincent hikes up his mask just for his mouth to show and spits on your tongue.

when it comes to you, he's obsessed with your chest. he loves to rest his face on your chest when he's feeling down or frustrated. sometimes he'll even take a warm hand and roll your nipple between his fingers all while he lays on the other one. he doesn't really do that often but when he does... ENJOY IT.

usually, when laying and sleeping together vincent will have a hand on your breast, kinda like a stress ball, he'll lightly squeeze it every now and then just to see you shiver and because it comforts him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

vincent goes feral for the idea of breeding you. he leaves hickeys all over your neck when he does so. semi-quiet whimpers come from him when his cock finally releases its load in you.

if you're not really fond of vincent cumming in you, he loves doing it in your mouth, he loves to look into your pretty eyes as he's whimpering for his sweet release.

if you order him to, vincent will lap at your folds and lick up yours and his cum. poor baby will keep going and accidentally overstimulate you with his thick tongue on your aching heat.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

vincent loves drawing your figure in ways that he isn't too keen on showing you. he has a separate sketchbook filled with Polaroids of you sleeping, eating, showering, you sucking his cock, and your backside while he's plowing into you. he has so many Polaroids of you so the list literally goes on 😭 but overall vince loves to draw you in scandalously clad outfits and he loves to jerk off to it while whimpering your name. you're his muse, he wants to draw his muse 24/7.

if you're not into it, ignore this! but vincent would love it if you carved your name on his skin. he doesn't mind being cut up but he for sure wouldn't want to tell you. it's just one of those things you have to find out. after a night of being scratched a bit with his own blades and having your name carved onto his thigh, he'll wake up in the morning and look in the mirror and blush at the marks. he'd be so cheesy🥺

Bo def has seen little red scratch marks on vincent and thinks nothing of them but gets suspicious when he asks about it and sees' vincent's demeanor change (i love subby vinny yall)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

oh, you know this poor baby barely has the experience, and you probably have to teach him everything. From a first kiss to how to touch your body. He's never had anyone touch him, so sometimes you can make this man's heart melt and mind malfunction with just a small hand on his thigh.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

vincent loves everything where you're on top, to be honest. He loves watching your chest bounce while you're riding him. So I guess you could say that his fave position is cowgirl. He'll whimper and cry while you continue to ride him out after he came inside you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he's not goofy in the sense that he's making jokes, he's more wholesome and might do something that makes you giggle like caress your skin ever so softly earning a giggle from you. he likes to take things more seriously and light-hearted just so that you feel comfy enough to say stop, etc.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he def started shaving when you started going down on him. he was a bit unruly and long but once you started giving him head he trimmed them down so that they wouldn't be in the way while you deep throat.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

he's soooooo loving and such a sweetheart i love him so much can you tell he leaves kisses all over your body. he has literal heart eyes for you when you stroke his cock, he can't help but look at you so lovingly when you please him. he's so romantic that he lights candles to set the mood in his workshop.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he never really was a fan of jerking off. Bo has tried talking him into it before you came along. always teasing him that he should be jerking off as a man's right and the he'll feel so relaxed after, but vincent always brushed him off.

before you came along, he would give Bo's suggestion of 'jerking off to relax' a try. poor baby would sit at his desk and snake his cock out and pump slowly, playing with the head every now and then, letting soft pants out against his mask. he would have SO much pre-cum leaking from his pretty pink tip lets be honest this clueless baby would probably need help with jerking off too

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink: you saw that coming whether you're domming or subbing this baby loves to give you creampies and likes fucking his cum deeper in you all the time. the thought of you being full of his cum makes him soooo happy. i def think he wants children. because he's a twin himself... you have the possibility of having your own pair of twins. (i won't lie he is scared that they'll end up like him and bo)

Knife play: cut him, sis. jokes aside, he can handle pain very well he behaves soooo well for you when his dagger is in your hand. slice him up a bit and lick his wounds, he'll go feral and get needy pretty quickly. the amount of trust he has in you is almost so adoring. he trusts you with his life. which is why he doesn't mind a few red marks over his body caused by you. if anything it makes him even more happier than it should because he loves the thought of being owned by you. once his mask is off he'll have the cutest face of anticipation when you drag the knife over his supple skin.

BDSM: vincent LOVES tying you up in all different types of ways. something about you fearing what he does to you kinda excites him tbh it's probably the killer in him amirite😩 he loves that you trust him as much as he trusts you.

maaaan this boy goes absolutely feral when he has your hands tied behind your back and you're propped over his knee. he'll fondle and massage your ass and play with your cunt at the same time. since he loves a good power struggle, if you decide you want to be dominant, vincent won't give up that easy and will give you a punishment. and what better way is there to punish you, you may ask... this man will spank you till your ass cheeks are numb all while overstimulating you <3

Wax play: another obvi one but he loves lighting candles in your favorite colors and letting the wax fall on your skin. he would never intentionally hurt you, and he's an expert at knowing when the wax is too hot for the skin and when it's just right. he loves drawing things on you with the wax. maybe signing his name and stuff like that or things like "angel" or "mine". he loves watching your body react to the warm wax over your skin.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he loves the comfort of his basement, if im honest. this baby's BIGGEST fear is his brothers walking in on you riding him or you cutting him while he's tied up.

i do think he would fuck you in Bo's truck but thats an idea for a different story wink wink

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

simple touches can easily get him going. you could easily just be walking through the house in the kitchen and accidentally rub your bum against his crotch to get past him and he's already drooling over you and getting flustered by the fact that his cock is already hardening virgin activities hehe

he loves seeing you drenched in blood, it gets him excited and ready to submit to you.

There was one day you were helping Bo out in his shop. of course, there was some frat boy there asking for a car part and giving Bo a hard time. Once Bo sees you, his face lights up and he pulls you to the side and whispers, "This boy has been the worst one I've had yet, I need you to distract 'em with your..." his voice trails off as he motions towards your body with his eyes.

You rolled your eyes at him, pushing him slightly as he chuckles. You made your way over to him asking him a few questions about where he was coming from. Of course, he was super into you, I mean look at you, you're gorgeous. While Bo was gone, you began to feel somewhat unsafe. He kept getting closer to you and began to get more hostile because of your constant rejection of being flirted with.

You turn your back away from the immature boy and a few minutes later, you heard gargling noises. Quickly, you turn around and see your adorable bloody boyfriend looking back at you with his head tilted, daggers in hand cutting the frat boy's head off, blood spraying everywhere. Especially, all over you. You were kinda disgusted, some of it went in your mouth and it was all over your outfit and hair.

Vincent couldn't be any more excited than he already was. The way the blood dripped off your body, raised goosebumps on his skin. You looked like a beautiful prey. He wanted a taste of you, right then and there. Now, let's just say you and Vinny put bo's basement into good use <3

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

he would never do knife play on you. sorry to break it to you if that was your thing. the thought of him slicing you is too much. if your pain tolerance sucks too or you cry a lot, he won't even dream of laying that silver blade on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves it all. But I think he prefers to give since he's such a munch sweetheart. His skill at giving head though, for a first-timer? Pretty damn good. He's a people pleaser, what can I say? He wants more than anything to make you cum and squirt in his mouth. He loves it all. Tongue-fucking you is probably his favorite thing, too.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He'll do whatever you want and more. This baby is a jealous fuck. He'll always be jealous when you're with Bo, not so much Lester, and he'll even be more jealous when you're with tourists that stop by Ambrose.

The thought of you being swooned by random men and his brother is what makes his core ache. You're the only female in the town, so you're used a LOT when it comes to seeing and distracting tourists and just random people that stop by that Lester finds. Although Vincent hates it, he needs you to do it too to continue Trudy's work.

After a long day of being used as bait, you go down to Vincent's basement and expect to hug him and sleep with him but think again... This boy is gonna fuck you so hard and fast, you'll only remember his name. When Vincent is jealous too, he's such a little shit and will all of a sudden, be the most dominant and self-assured person. When he's jealous, you will be sore for the next few days

Overall, he's usually pretty soft and loving but other time you top him so usually you set the pace babes <3

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't do quickies OFTEN nor does he like them because he wants to take his time with you but... if you can convince him... then best believe he's gonna have you be the dom one. Just imagine pulling him into a small room and you getting ready to suck his needy cock. He'd behave sooooo well. He needs lots of convincing because he gets scared that someone will hear him or hear you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

As mentioned above, this baby gets anxious easily. He'll take a risk WITHIN reason. He loves to experiment on himself rather than you. He'd love to try out a cock ring while he fucks your tight little cunt. You'll definitely bring the moans and whimpers out of him with that one. I think he's also down to let you try pouring wax on him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

If you're subbing, he can last a good 2-3 rounds, depending on the duration of the rounds. But if you're dominant, this needy baby could possibly do more like 3-4 rounds just cause having you tell him what to do and demanding him to do things gets him going.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys are a big yes! I've seen lots of people say he wouldn't be game for it BUT PERSONALLY, I think this man is a slut for using toys on you and himself. Like I said above, this baby would love to use a nice cock ring. He'll be so sensitive, he'll get milked SO easily. He loves using toys on you too. He for SURE loves when you wear pretty butt plugs. He'll pick them out for you. I think he'd absolutely pick a jeweled one or a bunny tail one. He'd love to see you walk around his basement in a short miniskirt with your cute bunny tail sticking out from under it. He'd get so turned on that when the real hunter in him comes out to play when you're completely dressed up as a prey.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Confirmed little shit. I'm so serious. He's oblivious to things that can turn you on. Like when you rub his back and massage his hands from all the work he does, he'll let out some SEXUAL ass moans of relief, and you'll just be sitting there looking at him like "bro..." but if he TRULY wants to tease you. He'll do it. and he's gonna get you good. He'll tease you in front of his brothers. You guys will sit there eating dinner that you prepared for all of them. And then out of nowhere, you feel this little shit rub your leg and part your thighs. If a little gasp escapes your mouth... CONGRATULATIONS, Lester and Bo are looking at you funny. "You okay, y/n?" Lester will say with such genuine concern and Bo will mutter something under his breath about how weird you always are. And they'll never suspect Vincent of being the problem. So I can safely say, he'll use his innocent nature against you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This baby whimpers, and moans like crazy. They sound so raspy and deep because of how underused his voice is. He doesn't speak much, so hearing him moan and whimper is probably your absolute favorite thing. He signs usually to talk to you, or he'll write on a notebook for you guys to communicate but only in the bedroom does he use his voice a little more often. He'll say things softly like "get up." "moreee." "mommyy pleaseee" and of course he'll say that he loves you too.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

This man probably wouldn't mind you fucking one of his brothers in front of him... just for him to fuck you the right way after them. But he won't tell you that. Something you'll just have to find a drawing of ;) (and his brothers are HELLA down to fuck you in front of Vince, mostly Bo, but I think Lester probs wouldn't mind but would need convincing)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

This boyyyyy, lemme tell youuuuuuu. He's a good 6.5 inches and his dick is SO pretty. He has a really big tip (it stretches you out PRETTY good when you guys start to fuck) and he's cut (unlike Bo lmao) he has a big vein that runs the underside of his cock and he loves when you rub your tongue on it. He's also pretty thick in general. If you tell him that his cock is big this cutie won't even believe you. He always thought it was small or that he wished he was bigger for his confidence. But once you tell him that his cock is probably this biggest youve been with, he'll get sooooooo shy about it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive only works because of you. His sex drive is not high at all. I think he loves drawing you naked in general but after a while of reviewing the drawing and thinking about certain aspects of your body, it will get him going. Now if you tell him you're horny... thats all it takes. This man CANNOT say no to you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He doesn't sleep a lot in general, so he won't be sleeping until aftercare is DONE and that's a promise.

#i love him so muuuuuch #slashers #vincent sinclair #house of wax #slashers x reader #vincent sinclair smut #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair imagine #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair

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book-place · 11 months

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Arts and Crafts Disaster

Warnings: blood, papers cuts, slight cursing, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Castiel x reader platonic, Dean Winchester x sister reader, Sam Winchester x sister reader

Request: hello :))) I have a request!! Can you do a castiel x child reader where castiel has to babysit child reader again, but child reader somehow injured themself and dean and sam come back from a hunt to a crying child reader and a panicky cas? thanks!! love your stories btw<33

Request by: @homowholikespace

*not my gif*

Summary: Cas is back to babysit again

A/N: There’s some references to a past work of mine —> Of Cats and Angels; Also, yes paper cuts do hurt that much. No, it’s not dramatic

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Cassie!” You cheered as soon as the angel landed in the bunker's library, hurrying over and wrapping your arms tightly around his leg in a hug.

“Hello, Y/n.” He greeted, patting the top of your head fondly.

“Thanks again for watching her, Cas.” Dean spoke up, striding into the room as he slung a duffel bag containing all he would need for the upcoming hunt over his shoulder.

“It is no problem.” He answered the eldest Winchester honestly, nodding along as you already began babbling to him about one thing or another.

Dean gave him a smile, clapping him on the back before trailing after Sam, who had walked up the stairs and out into the garage moments ago.

The two of them were going out on a hunt a couple miles away, so they called up their angel friend to babysit you once more. Considering the last time had been a success, save for the newfound kitten that now roamed the halls of the bunker.

“Say ‘hi’ to Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, Cassie!” You demanded, presenting the cat up to him as soon as your brother disappeared.

“Hello, Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens.” He echoed, reaching out a finger and gently scratching the small thing behind its ear.

You grinned up at him, satisfied, and set the cat free on the ground, “What are we gonna do today?” You asked eagerly.

From the look on your face, he could tell you were hoping that today would end with you gaining a new pet again. But he couldn’t let that happen, he doubted your brothers would let it slide again. It was pure luck he got away unscathed after they found out about Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens last time.

“How about some arts and crafts?” Castiel suggested.

After the last time, he had done some research on what children liked to do, and this was one of the top results he had found.

You squealed, nodding up and down happily before skipping off to go get some art supplies Sam had left in a nearby closet for you and returned with a box filled to the brim with different papers, colored pencils, markers, and crayons.

You happily dumped them on a table and you and Cas set to work, a determined silence falling over the two of you like a blanket.

Working side by side, you each were laser focused on your own projects at hand, Castiel trying to draw a rainbow with the perfect mix of colors, and you working hard to draw a family picture of you and your brothers- featuring Castiel and Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens, of course.

This went on for hours. Every time one of you finished your drawings, you wouldn’t find it satisfying enough, and would crumble it into a ball, toss it into a nearby wastebasket, and start over. There was definitely something admirable about both of your determination to get your pieces of art just right.

Finally, a wide grin broke out onto your face as you stared down at your paper, “Cassie! Cassie, look! I did it-“ You whipped your paper into your hands all too quickly to try and show the angel your finished product. The material sliced across your finger in such a way that it began to bleed immediately. Paper cut.

Both of you stilled for all of a minute, until the pain stung harsh and fast and tears began to fill your eyes.

You began wailing right away, sticking out your wounded hand as if it was infected, and Cas’s panic quickly filled his silent void.

“Are you alright?” He asked hurriedly, “What can I-“

You just kept bawling though, the sting of the paper cut that dug deep fresh in your pain.

Poor Castiel had no idea what to do. He had never been in this situation before. Sure, he could reach over and easily heal you with a touch, but all logic seemed to fly out of his mind the second you began sobbing.

“Hey! We’re home!” As always, Dean and Sam burst in at just the wrong moment.

The second your cries reached their ears, they flew down the stairs in a blur of movement and panic, very similar to Castiels, not stopping until they were right in front of the two of you.

“What is it?” Dean panted instantly, “What’s wrong?”

With a wobbling lip, you held out your scarred finger to them, and they both let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Sam cooed, shoulders relaxing as he scooped you up into his arms, letting you burrow your face into the crook of his neck, “It’s okay, you’re alright.”

He lead you off to get a bandaid and Dean whirled around to face Cas as soon as he was out of sight, “What the hell, man?” He demanded.

The angel shrugged helplessly, “Just a moment ago she started crying very loudly and I didn’t know-“

You and Sam entered back in the room, hand in hand, as you wiped your eyes and nose with the back of your sleeve, calming down significantly.

“Are you alright?” Cas immediately asked in concern.

You nodded shyly, focusing your eyes on the ground as you shuffled your feet up and down.

Sam smiled down at you softly, squeezing your hand gently in reassurance, “She’s alright, just got a bit freaked out, that’s all.”

You sniffled slightly, gently letting go of Sam’s hand and walking back over to the table, lifting up your drawing- very carefully this time- to show the three men your hard work.

“Wow, great job, kiddo.” Dean praised instantly, reaching over and ruffling your hair, emitting giggles from you.

Sam grinned, studying the drawing of himself, “The hair is spot on.” He remarked.

“It looks wonderful, Y/n.” Castiel told you honestly.

All four of you were standing in a line in the picture, holding hands and wearing bright smiles, Sir. Fuzzy- Bottom Mittens of course hanging a couple inches above all of you in the air, doing so with the powers you were convinced he had and just never used when you were all around.

Idjits 👟- @ineedmorefanfics2 @roseblue373 @popfishjr

#platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader platonic #dean winchester #castiel x reader #castiel #sam winchester x sister reader #dean winchester x sister reader #sam winchester x reader platonic #sam winchester x reader #spn x reader #castiel x reader platonic #child reader #sister reader

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anime-lover-forever-1127 · 3 years

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Game On {Manjiro 'Mikey' Sano}

*****

Disclaimer - (Cause fanfiction is tricky ground and I hope not to offend the creator of the original story and get sued)

I do not own "Tokyo Revengers", it belongs to its original creator Ken Wakui. This is only a fanfiction that I was inspired to write by the original work. Please support the official release. Most of the media - such as the art and illustrations, gifs, video's, etc. used in this fanfiction - are from the web. Thus, most of them aren't mine (because I really, really can't draw) unless mentioned. To fit the story, images are also edited by various apps and websites. So they aren't mine, just edited.

Also if you own a picture or Video that I found online, and you either want your name added, or me to take it down. Please contact me and we can talk it out. P.s. I also ask that you do not copy my work and publish it onto any other website.

If you're gonna use my idea, please ask me (If you ask nicely, I for sure, will agree). If I don't contact you within a week, then just assume I'm giving you the all clear and go for it. Just remember to credit me.

Warnings: Yandere, Death/Murder, Kidnapping, Alive Emma, Chaining someone, Holding them angst there will, Talk about taking lives, Mention of rape, Faking deaths, bribing

*****

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Character(s)/Who's it for: Yandere Bonten Mikey x Draken's Sister

Type: One Shot

Requested By: No One

Word Count: 1.9 K Each, and 3.9 K Total

Summary/Prompt: When Mikey sees his ex-girlfriend again after 12 years, he knows he just can't let her go this time. He needs her. And is willing to do whatever it takes to keep her.

There are two versions. A name selected version (I don't know why, but personally I find it easier - even when reading and feeling like it's from my perspective). And a x Fem Reader Version underneath.

*****

Today's Special

I'm crazy?

What's crazy is this world that refuses to let me be with you!

~ Unknown

~o~

You survived what you thought would kill you. Now straighten your crown and move forward like the queen you are.

Unknown

*****

Freya Version (Reader Version Underneath This Version)

{Third P.O.V.}

Pah-chin's wedding was tomorrow. So the girls decided to celebrate Ria, his soon-to-be wife's, last day as an unmarried woman, by hitting as many clubs as they could.

They'd only been here for about an hour, but 3 drinks in, and the blond was ready to call it quits.

"Oh come one, you can't be tapping out already, can you? It's only 1." Emma pouted.

Hinata patted Freya's back, as the younger tried to cool down by laying her head on the cool table in front of them.

"It's fine." Ria said, shooting the girl hugging the table a worried smile.

"No." Freya shook her head, "I am not going to be that person. I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air. That should help. You girls hit the floor, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Could you watch my bag for me though."

With a nod from Hinata, Freya, slightly swaying in her heels, walked out the closest exit to her.

She pushed open the door, only to freeze, sobering up instantly at the scene in front of her.

There were four men in the alley.

One, forced to kneel down, with his hands behind his head as he stared down the end of a barrel.

The one holding the gun with steady hands, had pink hair, in a mullet, and two scars near the ends of his mouth.

The other was a tall purple haired man. He was casually leaning against the brick wall opposite of her.

And then, there was a white haired man, who nodded his head, and a loud gun shot rang through the area. Though no one except for the four people remaining could hear it.

It took a second for her brain to realize that the man she was staring at, the one who just gave the order.

Was Mikey.

Her Mikey.

"Hey boss, what are we gonna do about her?" Ran asks, pointing to the long haired women who had just witnessed their crime.

Mikey turned around, his once bored eyes widening at the sight of the women in front of him.

She had grown up. Her body filling out in certain places a little more, and the little two piece blue dress he knew she'd could only be wearing because of his sister, only highlighted that fact. Leaving nothing to the imagination. She had let her hair grow out, letting it read her lower back.

But she hadn't changed. She still had the same heart shaped face, and big blue eyes. Eyes that were staring at him in surprise, and fear.

Sanzu's eyes narrowed, as he took the women in.

Draken's little sister.

He'd seen her around Toman multiply times. But never really met her.

Freya's heartbeat sped up, and her body began shaking as she tried to figure out what could have exactly happened, and how she could get out of this mess.

She was struggling to keep her panic at bay, when she heard. "Well we can't exactly leave a witness behind. Just call and tell the clean up crew that there will be another body to take care of."

That was it.

That was the last thing she heard before she fell unconscious.

Mikey had seen that coming, and was next to her in an instant, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Ran and Sanzu looked at them confused, "What just happened?" Ran asked.

Mikey sighed, standing back up with her still in his arms, he answered, "She was always weak as a child. Well Draken was strong, both physically and mentally. She bruised easily, and used to cry over every little thing. She was always the first to crack under pressure." Well the words coming out of his mouth were insulting, the tone he had used clearly gave away how precious she was to him. It was the kindest they had heard him speak to anyone in years.

"Wait? You know her?"

"She's coming with us." Mikey said, ignoring Ran's question.

The two looked surprised at his sudden decision, but couldn't say anything as he began walking away.

Staring down at her unconscious face. Mikey knew, now that he had her in his arms again, there was absolutely no way he could let her go.

*****

Freya groaned as she woke up. It honestly felt like there was a jackhammer inside her skull, trying to break her head open.

But, it wasn't uncommon after nights out. It took a moment for her groaning in pain, to remember what had happened last night.

She panicked as the scene in the alley came back to her.

She frantically looked around to see she was in a large, king sized bed, with a large black canopy hanging over it.

The walls were a pure white, matching the bed sheets with black flowers embroidered onto them. There was a desk in the corner of the room, and two doors. One across from her, and the other, she assumed led to the bathroom. There were various flowers scattered around the room, in an attempt to give the cold room the illusion that it was full of life, and a single window, which led to a balcony.

She tried to get out, but was stopped only 3 feet away from the bed by something pulling her back.

She looked down to see a silver chain connecting to the wall, leading back to her foot. Where a black, padded cuff was wrapped around her ankle.

It was also at the moment she realized that she was dressed in a white sleeping shirt and some underwear, and nothing else.

Dread began to build up inside of her, and she collapsed against the foot of the bed as she struggled to figure out what to do.

Freya buried her head in between her knees, and her fingers tangled in her golden locks. The momentarily forgotten hangover had returned with vengeance, making it impossible for her brain to think straight.

That was also the reason she hadn't heard someone else enter the room, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to let out a startled yelp.

The blond turned around to see familiar warm blue eyes staring at her. It was a stark contrast to the last two times she had stared into their icy depths.

"Mikey!" Freya, unable to keep it in anymore, sobbed into his chest. Mikey stayed quite, only wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her closer to him.

She had no idea how long they had stayed like that, a part of her didn't want to let go, but after her past experience she feared that the sudden warmth in him would once again vanish, and she may not get another chance to get her questions answered.

She tried to pull away, before after a couple of inches of space, his arms wrapped around her wouldn't let her go any further. She tried to wiggle out of his hold, but it wouldn't give. So she turned her gaze back up at him, confused at why he wouldn't let her go. It isn't like she could go anywhere with the chain wrapped around her ankle.

The chain!

"What the hell is that?" She asked, pointing to the instrument caging her to the bed.

"It's just an ankle chain." Mikey answered, as if he didn't see the issue with matter.

Freya just shook her head in disbelief, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening, she fired off her next two questions, "And why exactly is it on me? Where are we even?"

Mikey sighed, Takeomi had warned him that she'd ask this. Turning down his advice of tricking her, he decided to be upfront about it. The sooner she came to terms with this, the sooner they could move on and continue with the life they were always supposed to have.

He decided to answer the easier question first, "We're in a mansion in the countryside. As for the chain, it's so you won't leave again."

"What do you mean, 'won't leave again'? Do I need to remind you that YOU were the one who pushed me away. And now what, you're going to keep me locked up like a princess in a tower." Freya scoffed.

"Actually, that's exactly what's going to happen. If I'm not here, then one of the bonten executives and guards will be. If you do somehow get out of the chain, I wouldn't try the door. It's going to be locked, and a guard will always be stationed outside."

Freya's eyes widened, and she frantically shook her head, "No. NO!" She screamed, frantically thrashing around in his hold. She managed to push him away, and fell onto the floor. She backed up, until her back hit the nightstand next to the bed, the handles on the drawers digging into her back. But the women could barely feel them in her panicked clouded mind. "Emma, Hinata, and Ria know I didn't come back last night. By now, everybody knows I'm missing, and are looking for me. Draken won't stop until he knows I'm safe." The blond desperately threatened.

"I know." Mikey nodded. He of all people knew how determined and stubborn the ex-toman members were. "That's exactly why the police have now found a body belonging to a 23 year old woman with long blond hair and blue eyes who was beaten to death, and raped, her face unrecognizable. Along with it, they found your ID."

"No." Freya shook her head, "They'll know it's a fake."

"She was also dressed in your clothes. The clothes you were last seen in." Mikey continued on.

Freya's breathing quicken, "W-well… well…" Her eyes widened with hope as she finally thought of something, "D.N.A. tests, and dentals. Don't they need to run those."

Mikey only shook his head, "Koko's already on that. The police force is practically living in Bonten's back pocket. Those test results will say what I want them to say."

Freya's head fell to the side, as a large lump formed in her throat, making breathing harder and harder. The stinging tears forming glazing her eyes were definitely not helping.

What could she possibly do. She'd been warned by her older brother that Mikey had formed another gang and had his hands in all sorts of shady things, but she hadn't expected to ever meet him again.

And now, she was trapped. He refused to let her go, slamming back into her life like a wrecking ball.

She felt helpless. Because once again, whatever Mikey wanted. Mikey got.

A perk of being invincible.

He chose to leave, and now, he's choosing to do this to her.``

But what choice did she have?

Nothing.

Once again she was helpless because of the same man.

"What do you want?" Freya asked, voice horse from the crying.

Mikey smiled, "Well for starters. You're going to be staying here for quite a while. You'll have everything at your fingertips. Anything your heart desires will be yours."

Freya was tempted to scoff, 'Except my freedom'. But she chose to bite her tongue and hold it in.

"The better your behavior, the more leniency you will receive." Mikey told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and underneath her legs. He picked her up and set her on the bed.

She wanted to push him away, but the small part of her brain that was still hanging on to reasoning and hope, combined with the warming strength in his embrace, held her back.

So instead, she eased into his hold.

Fine, if Mikey wanted to play this game, Freya would play it.

And she would win!

*****

Fem Reader Version

Legend:

y/n = Your Name

h/c = Hair Color

e/c = Eye Color

{Third P.O.V.}

Pah-chin's wedding was tomorrow. So the girls decided to celebrate Ria, his soon-to-be wifes, last day as an unmarried woman, by hitting as many clubs as they could.

They'd only been here for about an hour, but 3 drinks in, and the h/c women was ready to call it quits.

"Oh come one, you can't be tapping out already, can you? It's only 1." Emma pouted.

Hinata patted y/n's back, as the younger tried to cool down by laying her head on the cool table in front of them.

"It's fine." Ria said, shooting the girl hugging the table a worried smile.

"No." y/n shook her head, "I am not going to be that person. I'm gonna go outside and get some fresh air. That should help. You girls hit the floor, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Could you watch my bag for me though."

With a nod from Hinata, y/n, slightly swaying in her heels, walked out the closest exit to her.

She pushed open the door, only to freeze, sobering up instantly at the scene in front of her.

There were four men in the alley.

One, forced to kneel down, with his hands behind his head as he stared down the end of a barrel.

The one holding the gun with steady hands, had pink hair, in a mullet, and two scars near the ends of his mouth.

The other was a tall purple haired man. He was casually leaning against the brick wall opposite of her.

And then, there was a white haired man, who nodded his head, and a loud gun shot rang through the area. Though no one except for the four people remaining could hear it.

It took a second for her brain to realize that the man she was staring at, the one who just gave the order.

Was Mikey.

Her Mikey.

"Hey boss, what are we gonna do about her?" Ran asks, pointing to the long haired women who had just witnessed their crime.

Mikey turned around, his once bored eyes widening at the sight of the women in front of him.

She had grown up. Her body filling out in certain places a little more, and the little blue dress he knew she'd could only be wearing because of his sister, only highlighted that fact. She had let her hair grow out, letting it read her lower back.

But she hadn't changed. She still had the same heart shaped face, and big e/c eyes. Eyes that were staring at him in surprise, and fear.

Sanzu's eyes narrowed, as he took the women in.

Draken's little sister.

He'd seen her around Toman multiply times. But never really met her.

y/n's heartbeat sped up, and her body began shaking as she tried to figure out what could have exactly happened, and how she could get out of this mess.

She was struggling to keep her panic at bay, when she heard. "Well we can't exactly leave a witness behind. Just call and tell the clean up crew that there will be another body to take care of."

That was it.

That was the last thing she heard before she fell unconscious.

Mikey had seen that coming, and was next to her in an instant, catching her before she could hit the ground.

Ran and Sanzu looked at them confused, "What just happened?" Ran asked.

"Wait? You know her?"

"She's coming with us." Mikey said, ignoring Ran's question.

The two looked surprised at his sudden decision, but couldn't say anything as he began walking away.

Staring down at her unconscious face. Mikey knew, now that he had her in his arms again, there was absolutely no way he could let her go.

*****

y/n groaned as she woke up. It honestly felt like there was a jackhammer inside her skull, trying to break her head open.

But, it wasn't uncommon after nights out. It took a moment for her groaning in pain, to remember what had happened last night.

She panicked as the scene in the alley came back to her.

She frantically looked around to see she was in a large, king sized bed, with a large black canopy hanging over it.

She tried to get out, but was stopped only 3 feet away from the bed by something pulling her back.

She looked down to see a silver chain connecting to the wall, leading back to her foot. Where a black, padded cuff was wrapped around her ankle.

It was also at the moment she realized that she was dressed in a white sleeping shirt and some underwear, and nothing else.

Dread began to build up inside of her, and she collapsed against the foot of the bed as she struggled to figure out what to do.

y/n buried her head in between her knees, and her fingers tangled in her golden locks. The momentarily forgotten hangover had returned with vengeance, making it impossible for her brain to think straight.

That was also the reason she hadn't heard someone else enter the room, until she felt a hand on her shoulder, causing her to let out a startled yelp.

The h/c turned around to see familiar warm blue eyes staring at her. It was a stark contrast to the last two times she had stared into their icy depths.

"Mikey!" y/n, unable to keep it in anymore, sobbed into his chest. Mikey stayed quiet, only wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her closer to him.

The chain!

"What the hell is that?" She asked, pointing to the instrument caging her to the bed.

"It's just an ankle chain." Mikey answered, as if he didn't see the issue with matter.

y/n just shook her head in disbelief, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening, she fired off her next two questions, "And why exactly is it on me? Where are we even?"

He decided to answer the easier question first, "We're in a mansion in the countryside. As for the chain, it's so you won't leave again."

"What do you mean, 'won't leave again'? Do I need to remind you that YOU were the one who pushed me away. And now what, you're going to keep me locked up like a princess in a tower." y/n scoffed.

y/n's eyes widened, and she frantically shook her head, "No. NO!" She screamed, frantically thrashing around in his hold. She managed to push him away, and fell onto the floor. She backed up, until her back hit the nightstand next to the bed, the handles on the drawers diggin into her back. But the women could barely feel them in her panicked clouded mind. "Emma, Hinata, and Ria know I didn't come back last night. By now, everybody knows I'm missing, and are looking for me. Draken won't stop until he knows I'm safe." The h/c women desperately threatened.

"I know." Mikey nodded. He of all people knew how determined and stubborn the ex-toman members were. "That's exactly why the police have now found a body belonging to a 23 year old woman with long h/c hair and e/c eyes who was beaten to death, and raped, her face unrecognizable. Along with it, they found your ID."

"No." y/n shook her head, "They'll know it's a fake."

"She was also dressed in your clothes. The clothes you were last seen in." Mikey continued on.

y/n's breathing quicken, "W-well… well…" Her eyes widened with hope as she finally thought of something, "D.N.A. tests, and dentals. Don't they need to run those."

Mikey only shook his head, "Koko's already on that. The police force is practically living in Bonten's back pocket. Those test results will say what I want them to say."

y/n's head fell to the side, as a large lump formed in her throat, making breathing harder and harder. The stinging tears forming glazing her eyes were definitely not helping.

What could she possibly do? She'd been warned by her older brother that Mikey had formed another gang and had his hands in all sorts of shady things, but she hadn't expected to ever meet him again.

And now, she was trapped. He refused to let her go, slamming back into her life like a wrecking ball.

She felt helpless. Because once again, whatever Mikey wanted. Mikey got.

A perk of being invincible.

He chose to leave, and now, he's choosing to do this to her.``

But what choice did she have?

Nothing.

Once again she was helpless because of the same man.

"What do you want?" y/n asked, voice horse from the crying.

Mikey smiled, "Well for starters. You're going to be staying here for quite a while. You'll have everything at your fingertips. Anything your heart desires will be yours."

y/n was tempted to scoff, 'Except my freedom'. But she chose to bite her tongue and hold it in.

"The better your behavior, the more leniency you will receive." Mikey told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and underneath her legs. He picked her up and set her on the bed.

She wanted to push him away, but the small part of her brain that was still hanging on to reasoning and hope, combined with the warming strength in his embrace, held her back.

So instead, she eased into his hold.

Fine, if Mikey wanted to play this game, you would play it.

And you would win!

*****

This was my first one shot. So if it was a bit choppy, or the speed was a bit off. Sorry. I'm mostly used to writing chapter stories (all of which are still in progress). So this was my first time trying this. Hopefully I'll get better with practice.

But I honestly quit like them. Especially because i switch fandoms I'm into quite quickly. so it lets me write quick pieces, without having to create covers and stories or anything too complicated. it's also great for building up control. when i have a character who already has a story. I can create a one shot for them, instead of writing a longer story, which I may barley get a chance to write. or forcing me to choose which story I'm going to update when I'm in the mood to write for a certain character.

I'm not really sure how well I can exactly write x Readers, this was my first one. So that's why I kept it a fem reader. Maybe when I get better, I can come back and try my hand at a gender neutral reader and publish it under the x Fem Reader Version, but until then, sorry for all my gender neutral readers out there.

I also have a part 2 for this in mind. I still haven't written it. But I've planned it in a way where it can mostly be read as a stand alone by itself as well. I know I said that if there was a part two, I'd come back here and post it.

(Mostly because wattpad is stingy with the number of chapters it lets you post.) But screw it, unless it's a clips story (where I fast forward through all the possible scenes in a story), I'll create part twos. And once I reach the 200 chapter limit. I'll just create another book. And if I hit the 200 book limit, I'll then create another wattpad account. (Which I asked the wattpad support - is perfectly allowed. As long as I'm not misusing it to like trash other accounts and stuff.)

^ This is only for wattpad. For , Quotev, and Ao3, I'll keep it all in one book.

I'm also thinking that once, I have over 10 chapters for a certain story. I'd give it it's own book. Where I'd take it down from the one shot, and give it, it's own book. Where the one shot's chapters would be spread out through the story. I wanted to go for 7, but it's such an odd number. So I decided to go for 10 as the requirement to have it's own book.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers emma #tokyo revengers mikey #yandere #yandere mikey #yandere manjiro sano #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere mikey x reader #yandere mikey x oc #tokyo revengers draken #tokyo revengers ran #tokyo revengers sanzu

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diaryofassortedimagines · 3 years

Text

time out

dom!data x sub!fem!reader xxx

warnings: SMUT, sensation play, language, vibrators, edging, degradation

requested by: anon

gotta love generic ass titles! also, new little title thing going on :) not my gif, i believe it is from @cakesandsnouts

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data’s little game had began flooding into your everyday life to the point of a genuine hinderance. at first, the idea of him controlling your orgasms, however he so pleased, sounded like an incredibly appealing idea, and one that you gladly consented to. but you hadn’t realized he’d be this... mean. not to the point of where you could hardly even sleep, and you’d certainly never expected that he would edge you for nearly two weeks without even a hint of relief or mercy.

now, you were well aware that masturbation without permission was off limits- period. but, in honesty, what did he expect? to edge you for weeks, not granting you any relief, and then leaving you alone in bed, as he tended to his night shift, and as you tried desperately to ignore the ache between your legs and be able to get a least a little bit of rest. it’s almost as though he wanted you to disobey, all so that he could rain hell on you when you get caught. the pressure between your legs became more and more prominent as you thought about it, and as it began to verge on the side on unbearable (again), you figured that if you were wrong, he’d tease you endlessly, if you were right, he’d only do the same (perhaps more intensely). to the right of you, on his side of the bed, sat a medium sized box in his opened nightstand drawer. inside, a wide variety of tools and toys that he’d used over the past two weeks or so to tease you on and on, further and further. what scared you the most was that he still had toys left, ones he hasn’t used- a feather, a paintbrush, and candles were among the most interesting, though there were more.

he mastered the art of eroticism and dominance upon further exploring his emotions, making every action and decision deliberate in order to tease you best; he meticulously chose which toys to use and which not to use in what order- he saved the most exciting ones for last, etc. the vibrating, pink, silicone dildo was calling your name, and it was quite the persuasive voice. you think, so far, it was your favorite out of the box, as he had used it on you in the past. plus, he wouldn’t be off his shift for another half hour, and it wouldn’t take three for you to cum at this point.

once the toy was in your hands, it was too tempting for you to put it back down, and with a heavy sigh you eagerly tossed the blanket off of you and pushed down your sweatpants and underwear. holding it loosely between your fingers, you clicked it up to its third highest vibration, only half its power, and delve it between your folds.

“o-oh... y-yes.” both the pleasure and the relief was overwhelming. after a few seconds of roaming, you found your far too ignored clit, and turned up the vibrations from three to four. your hips were soon bucking violently, your moans uncontrollable and drawn out. “f-fuck ah~ yes!” you had hardly touched yourself, and yet already you were unbelievably close, and the knot in your stomach tied tighter and tighter as you continued your movements. you were a gasping, moaning mess.

you were just seconds away from cumming when a familiarly cold, firm hand grabbed hold of you wrist. you yelped, naturally, and opened your eyes to find data with a stern, yet adoring look on his face. you were in deep shit, now.

“d-data... your shift is supposed to end at 7:00-”

“i got off early, y/n. i hoped to surprise you with breakfast... it is clear to me you long for something else, don’t you?” you were left speechless, dumbfounded, as you stared your own demise in the eyes, bracing yourself for what was to come next. your wrist was still in his grasp, and he let go momentarily to yank the toy away from you, licking your juices off of it before tossing it to the side. “do you not you remember what i told you?” you couldn’t seem to get out the words, only heavy breaths. “answer me, sweet thing.” when you answered in only a nod, his voice raised a tad, and had a clear raise in authority. “words, y/n.”

“y-yes... i do.”

“and yet, you have disobeyed me. i have a complete memory of me informing you of the consequences. did you forget? i am glad to remind you...”

“... i remember, i do b-but i’ve been just so desperate, data and i-” he interrupted your pleads.

“desperate? for what are you do desperate for? tell me, darling.” you groaned at his sly, mischievous smirk.

“j-just lemme cum... p-please? please, pleeease, data?” poor choice of words on your part, as you would soon realize, and a pathetic attempt at begging, indicative of how exhausted and physically drained this had made you. he yanked the box of toys towards him, riffling through it ‘til he pulled out a pair of shiny handcuffs. he threw his leg over your body and took your hands as he worked on fastening the restraints.

“oh, do not worry, i will. i am aware of how desperate you are for me to just be inside you already...” he clicked them shut and locked them as he spoke with an excruciatingly teasing tone. “eventually.” he decided to lock you up even tighter as he tied one end of a silky black cloth to the chain of the handcuffs, and the other end to the bed post. “hmm... i wonder which item i will use on you today...” he mused, not at all serious; a sexual relationship with you has, for better or worse, greatly improved his sarcasm skills.

‘please not the candle, not the candle-’ you thought silently. you breathed a sigh of relief that the candle was left in the box and would be saved for later, before your breath caught in confusion as he pulled a white, faux feather and a smooth bristled fan paint brush from the collection.

“are you aware of what i will use these for?” you shook your head no, ‘of course not’ you thought. he chuckled in delight at your answer. “wonderful. which one you would like me to use on you first?”

“u-um i... well...” completely clueless to what either answer would entail, you chose. “the f-feather.” you flinched at your answer, nervous for the outcome, and his devilish smirk didn’t ease your worries one bit.

“i hoped you would say that.” he cooed. “are you going to continue to be good, now? attempt to make up for disobeying me and touching yourself earlier?”

“y-yes... i promise.” you spoke shakily.

“such a good girl, hm?” your gripped your neck between one large and cold hand. “close your eyes.” shocked, you didn’t, but rather stared him in the eyes, astonished. “do it!” he yelled. transparent, silky fluid gushed out of your core in abundance as he did so. this is what you wanted all along- intensity, forced submission, control (especially after weeks of endless nothing), and in response, closed your eyes. he was silent, until you felt a sudden tickle against your folds and gasped, making him chuckle. ‘the feather...’ you thought.

“d-data, ah-h!” he spread your lips apart, your sensitive insides exposed to cold air. teasingly, he grazed the feather over your clit, it’s precise location he had memorized, and he delighted in the gasp that sounded, the face you made, and every delicious detail of your crazed reaction.

“i bet you are enjoying this, are you not?” he teased as you let out a particularly strung out and intense moan, your mouth open, he clenched your neck between his golden hands and watched as your breath hitched. “my pretty little whore.” you nodded your head (to the best of your ability) in confirmation. “if only you could see yourself. squirming and desperate like a dirty slut.” he paused, leaning forward towards your neck and corrected himself in a whisper. “my slut... all mine.” he breathed heavily against your neck, and all the while you were moaning and acting just how he said you were. his words came out in a tone of exasperation, absolutely mystified by you.

“oh my god, data! p-please don’t stop. please?” he took note of your rising chest and heavy breaths, weighted moans, restless squirming- all telltale signs that you were close. with this knowledge in mind, he stopped abruptly. “n-no! please. please, please i’m begging you data.” he tilted his head, non-verbally asking you to elaborate. “i’m begging you to just let me cum already, oh, it’s been weeks!”

“i am quite aware of how long it has been.” he remained hovering over you. “but now look at you. weeks of denial has entirely unraveled you, precisely the way i wished it would. as earthlings might say, there is a certain ‘method to my madness’.” he stroked your cheek and dragged his thumb across your lower lip. you swiftly caught it between your teeth and sucked on it gently with a sultry gaze. “such a needy one you are.” he coped. “i could bet you dream of being put on display as i fuck you. to inform all the enterpise that you are only mine.” leaning forward, he sucked and bit hickeys into your skin into the places that were the least convenient to hide. “imagine what those attracted to you on the crew may think... ensign ro would be mortified that you are mine and not hers, now wouldn’t she? it is time they know you are not for them.” he mused at your body and expression. “do you think that you deserve to cum, now?”

“yes!” you exclaimed. “i do! please... p-please?”

“i am not so certain.” he looked you up and down. “convince me, y/n.” eager to prove your point, you burst out words immediately.

“it’s been weeks! and i’ve been so patient, i only disobeyed once for two weeks! i’m still your good little whore, aren’t i?” you knew how crazy that drove him. “pretty please...?” your words were desperate pleas. as his own arousal began to build up, he stayed completely silent as his lips curled into a smirk and he began to tease you with the feather once again. “please! oh my god, data, please p-please...” as he grazed the feather over your clit in deliberate strokes, the knot in your stomach soon returned. you didn’t dare to tell him that you were nearing your breaking point in fear that he would stop, but you didn’t have to tell him for him to know at this point. he knew what it meant when your stomach would tense as it rose and fell, as your breaths got shorter and your moans turned into silent gasps as you tried to control your breathing, and for a brief moment, he stopped. you were on the verge of a tantrum, but the moment you opened your mouth to speak, two of data’s long, thick, cold fingers delve into you with no warning, nor allowing you any time to adjust and immediately curling his fingers upwards and smashing them in and out of you at an unbelievable speed. “yes! data oh t-thank you! please, please don’t s-stop-” he almost felt bad as he watched you- the love of his life so desperate, and as arousing as your current state was, he had made his point, and you had gone weeks. his actions spoke for his words as he analyzed your breathing patterns and kissed you the moment your stomach unraveled onto his fingers. you moaned into his mouth, and at this he chuckled, breaking away from the kiss. yanking his fingers from your cunt he sucked your juices clean of one finger and shoved the other in your mouth.

“you taste so sweet, do you not?” you looked at him speechless for a moment as you searched for the words.

“i-i get it now... why you wanted to do that...” you admitted, still gasping. it truly was the best orgasm you had ever dreamed of having- weeks of begging turned into passionate relief. as soon as release had seemed out of your grasp, it hit you like a truck.

“careful with your words, princess.” squatting to your level on the side of the bed he pulled your hair behind your ears and admired the dark purple art he had left on your neck. “i hope they keep looking.” he said. “do you know why i encourage you to wear what you please?” you looked into his golden eyes as you nodded no. “because i trust that you *are* mine. it drives them crazy.” he smiled and leaned to give you an open mouthed kiss before standing. “sleep while you can, dear.” he began to walk away, and although you both knew you only had a few hours till your shift began, you gripped his wrist, alarmed, and pulled him (or attempted to, his two ton body didn’t move an inch that wasn’t voluntarily) toward you.

“i don’t wanna sleep without you, you lunkhead.” he stroked your cheek and circled around the bed to his side, sliding the drawer of toys shut before crawling into bed and pulling you into his arms in an iron grip. one last time, you said “thank you data.” in unison, you sighed in contentment.

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god i hope i did this BEAUTIFUL request justice

yes i DID go back and edit this after posting it DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT

#data #star trek #tng #smut #data x reader #lieutenant commander data #fluff #pwop #brent spiner #star trek: the next generation #star trek data #geordi la forge #beverly crusher #lemon

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gyllenhaalstories · 3 years

Photo

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS — SUGAR DADDY!ZEMO

summary: a series of unfortunate (or fortunate, depending whose side you’re on) events brought you to mandripoor seven years ago. it was fun, dangerous and exciting for the most part. a lot has changed, but you are back in high town in the hope of purchasing a rare monet painting, and reuniting with an old flame.

warnings: tfatws spoilers, alcohol, established sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship, smut (daddy kink, dom/sub/switch dynamics, choking, hair pulling, blowjob, fingering, both degradation and praise kinks, spit kink, cum play, marking, unprotected sex). 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT.

word count: 2685

gif credit: pedropcl

notes: this (very long) fic is brought to you by zemo’s #1 hoe. for the sake of the fic, zemo’s daughter and wife have never existed. i get it zemo is the bad guy daniel is not your typical hottie but let me live my fantasy and reclaim my crown as the original zemo fan. listen to off to the races by lana del rey and let no man steal your thyme by the pentangle if you want to fibe with me! i hope you guys will enjoy it!!! <3

“If you keep staring at me like this, I’ll mistake you for the Mona Lisa.” You took the last sip from your glass, which was immediately filled by the man standing behind you. You had felt his familiar presence a long time ago, but you were too mesmerized by the rare painting trapped in a cage of glass to bother notifying him. “Your glance has followed me around the room. In other circumstances, I’d find it creepy. Now, it’s just very flattering.”

You heard him laugh through his nose. You saw his reflecting in the glass, lit up by flashing blue and pink lights and vibrating ever so slightly to the sound of the loud music.

“You’re like a Monet painting. From afar, you are clear as cristal and easy to read like an open book. From up close...” You marked a pause and stoodby straight. Your eyes never leaving the work of art you had been scrutinizing for the past hour. Water Lilies in Bloom, it was called, an incorrect translation that always brought a grin to your lips. “You are a mystery.” You swallowed thickly the bubbly liquid, recognizing the peculiar taste of champagne.

“It is arrogant but right to think of myself as the pure definition of mysterious.”

You chuckled, throwing your head back in disbelief. Some things never changed.

“After all these years... I managed to find my way back to you. Now that’s a mystery.”

You turned on your heels as you spoke. “Is it, though? Tell me, Daddy. Is it really that hard to believe you’d recognize your property even after all these years. I heard they put you in a pretty little cage. Didn’t have much else to think about than what you missed most?”

He took you in, just how ethereal you looked under the colourful neon lights. You had your arms pressed against your chest, the shiny material of your matching bracelet and necklace twinkled. He squinted slightly, his lips curled into a smirk while he looked down your body, the one thing that kept him sane after all these years in jail (that and the thought of destroying symbols like super soldiers and make the world a better place once and for all). “Nice dress.”

“My Sugar Daddy got it for me.” You did a twirl, showing off your outfit innocently. “You like it?”

He reached up to his neck and pulled on the collar of his purple sweater, like it was a tie he could loosen up. “So you received everything I sent you.”

You clicked your tongue. “Not everything...” Your head turned to look behind you, where your most priced possession was glowing in its full glory — soon to-be yours, you should say.

“Use your words, Princess. Say it and it’s yours.”

It was your turn to analyze him, to take every ounce of cockiness and pride. “You’re playing with fire.” You walked closer to him, erasing the distance but increasing the tension between the two of you. “All the money in the world won’t get you everything you want.”

He was quick to move, his soldiers instincts never left his body, clearly. His delicate hand wrapped around your throat so effortlessly. It tightened, forcing you to manage your breathing. “Money got me everything I wanted already.”

“What is it, Daddy? What is it that you want so badly?” You clenched your jaw, holding his glance which was filled with lust, instead of rage and grudges.

“You never looked so beautiful.” He leaned closer too, whispering the words to your ear. It was liked the loud club music turned into white noise. He could not care less about the stares and the words strangers exchanged as they witnessed the scene. High Town was not his playground.

But you were his plaything.

*~*~*

History repeated itself, in one way or another. Icons rose and fell. Symbols mattered and vanished into oblivion. Originality turned into plagiarism. Winners would lose it all, losers would dig their graves deeper into the abyss.

History repeated itself. The sight before your eyes was the same one as seven years ago, when all that was on this man’s life before meeting you was this stupid Mission Report of December 16 1991. You met him at a party like this, in High Town before he was banned from the land. He caught your attention doing his ridiculous dance moves, sharing his knowledge about the art pieces showcased around the room. Then he brought you to a hotel, the ones so fancy they had multiple rooms and a vintage record player as part of the decor. Only, it worked, and he put on his favourite Édith Piaf records. Rien de Rien, Le Petit Homme, La Vie en Rose, song after song, you were diving deeper in your memories.. He was popping yet another bottle of champagne open and pouring some in flutes you would never touch for the rest of the night. The same night, seven years ago, it changed your life. At the second you regretted setting foot in Mandripoor, he changed your mind and gave you the best months of your life. You would ride around Europe in vintage cars, dine in gigantic mansions you called castles. You admired the old paintings of his royal family members while he brought you a silk bathrobe to change into after a steamy shower.

You’d get lost in your thoughts, he’d get lost in his ambitions. You two were one and the same, in one way or another. That affirmation sent shivers down your spine. You could not tell if it was a good or a bad thing, a shy voice in your head was reassuring you it was the former.

“They call me Baron again, I guess I’m not doing too bad after all.” His voice snapped you back to reality. He was still wearing that obnoxious trench coat. You hated it, it made him look like a pimp. Although that was not too far from the truth, as the mountain of luxurious jewelry and clothes in your closet proved.

“Do you like being back here?”

“I love it here.” The emphasis on the last word was audible. You nodded in agreement. This place was heaven on Earth for some people, hell for others. For both you and Zemo, it was somewhere in between.

“You’re certainly not here for me.” You laughed, setting the still full glass on the nightstand.

He shook his head, mouthing a negative response.

“What is it, this time? Mission report February 32?”

“Something like that.” He answered, after another silent laugh.

“If only you had made me your mission, your life would have been easier.”

“Yours would have been, too.”

You shrugged. You agreed, but you did not need to say it. He knew. The two of you knew that this warmth washing over your bodies was the answer to all of your problems. Yet, you were fighting the urge to surrender and give in.

History always repeated itself.

All it took was for him to set his hand on your exposed knee. You got flashbacks of the numerous times his hand rested there while you two drove deeper in the country side, in some old Chevrolet, Ford, or any other European brands he could find and buy.

“Say it, Princess. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallowed thickly and fell on your knees. He sat straight, as straight as he could on the comfortable mattress, and spread his legs wider. “I want to go back in time.”

He leaned foward and you opened your mouth, your tongue poking out. He spit in your mouth, and you swallowed. The giggle that followed your actions sent blood to his hardening cock. “Just as eager as I remembered, right? You’d do anything to please me.”

“I’d do anything for you, Daddy.” You repeated, the confession left you breathless.

“That’s my good girl.” He brushed your hair with so much tenderness for a moment, you let out a content moan. He changed the mood real quick when he pushed your head closer to his crotch and unbuckled his belt at lightning’s speed.

Your mouth was watering at the sight, a sight that was tattooed in your memory forever. Whatever relationship you two had went beyond fancy presents and sex, it was a connection that tickled your souls and left you a different woman than when it first started. You wasted no time, stroking him a few times as you spit on his blushing tip. You smeared the spit over his sensitive spot and pulled the sweetest moans out of him, which grew louder and more intense when you finally wrapped your lips around his head.

No one compared to you, to your attention to details, to the way you were taking him all in, inches by inches like you were made for his cock and his cock only. No one compared to how blissful you looked pulling back, choking on your own saliva and the lack of oxygen. “You look so beautiful, Babygirl.”

His praise made you bat your eyes, hoping to receive more compliments. You flattened your tongue, licking him from the base to the top before you deep throated his cock again. You never left him untouched, your hands were massaging his walls or exploring his thick thighs while your mouth almost brought him to the edge.

That was when he pulled on your hair and demanded you went back up on your feet. “I bet you’re soaked. All you need is to see a cock to wet your panties.” You nodded as one hand reached up to cup your face, the other to cup your core from under your dress. He could felt the ever growing wet patch. He discarded of your panties in one effortless pull and pressed his pointer and middle fingers against your sensitive clit. He circled it, studying your reaction.

“Daddy...” You breathed out. “I need you.”

“I’m proud of you for using your words,” his finger slipped inside of your entrance, you moaned out his name. “So greedy and needy and easy for me, like the good whore that you are. Is that right? You’re Daddy’s perfect little whore?”

He was two fingers in, all the way to the last knuckles. He pumped in and out of you slowly yet roughly. You smirked when he finally touched that spongy spot inside of you. “I’m Daddy’s. I’ll always belong to Daddy.”

“That’s right.”

He brushed his thumb over your clit, his fingers stopped fucking your hole to abuse the bundle of nerves until tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Be a good baby.” You looked at him with doe eyes, sucking his thumb between your plump lips. “Do what I want.”

And you reached your high. You had nothing to hold you up, except for your shaky legs that threatened to give in under your weight and the intensity of your orgasm. You sucked on his thumb harder, hoping to quiet some of your moans but your screams escaped your parted lips.

In a blink of an eye, you were pushed against the bed and bounced against the body that blocked your every movement. His pants were nowhere to be found, just like the rest of your respective clothes. Your finger tips brushed over the skin of his shaven cheeks, down to his neck and chest. The intimacy, you had craved it all these years.

“I bet that sweet cunt of yours missed my cock.” He spoke, chuckling mockingly when he pushed himself in your stretched hole. You both let out a long moan of satisfaction. He rested inside of you, adjusting to your warmth and tightness. “I was right.”

“You’re always right.” You flattered his ego, and earned a sloppy kiss in return.

His lips moved down to your neck where he sucked hickeys and left small bite marks as he picked up the pace of his hips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to bring him that much closer, and deeper, into you.

Zemo pinned your wrists above your head and pumped his cock inside of your tight pussy like his life depended on it. “So fucking wet for me, gonna make me cum, Baby.” He had tried so hard to hold back, not to mark you and claim you again.

“Wait for me.” You begged him, and he brought one hand down to your neck again. He squeezed it, choking you deliciously until your eyes rolled inwards. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and he felt it, he felt the way your walls fluttered around him.

He thrusted inside of you, his hips snapped against yours and the sound of your skin slapping echoed in the bedroom. “Cum for me, Princess. Cum with Daddy.”

And you did, your body exploded in fireworks when you felt his release planted inside of you. He kept moving, rocking back and forth. He leaned back, leaving your neck to rub your clit once again. He was a moaning mess, the overstimulation made it almost painful to keep going but he did not want it to stop, not until...

“Fuck, Daddy!” And a second wave of pleasure hit you hard, it left you panting and shaking even more than before.

Zemo had to pull away quickly, and already missed the feeling of being inside of you.

Your fingers reached between your bodies, dipping into your folds and moving up to your lips as they were covered in his seed. You painted your lips with his white cum, before you licked them and your fingers clean as he watched, completely amazed and mesmerized. “Taste just as good as I remembered.”

He laughed, he was always one step ahead of everything and everyone, but you always managed to take him by surprise. You were just that great, that perfect. He rolled to the side and fell heavily on the bed. His skin was glistening under the light of the chandeliers from the thin layer of sweat.

You pressed your legs together, clenching around nothing. You hoped you could keep his load inside of you, as a proof this had really happened and it was not just one of your daydreams where you two would be reunited.

“I missed this.” You boke the silence with a small voice. Your fingers brushed over the bruises on your neck, and you hissed at the sensitive skin.

He turned on his side, worried for a second that he went too hard on you. The smile and joy on your face proved him otherwise. “I missed you, Princess.”

“I missed you so much, Daddy.”

*~*~*

The sun hurt your eyes, he noticed. He slipped out of the bed to pull on the curtains only to hurry back to you so you could lay your head on his chest. You were still wearing your bracelet, he started playing with it.

His mind was racing, just like his heart. You could feel it rumble in his chest like a loud engine. Something was bothering him.

“Oh, Zemo...” You caressed his cheek, looking up to study his features. “You can fool the smartest people in the world, but you’ll never be able to lie to me.”

“I’m coming home, Baby. I’m coming home now.”

You looked down again, taking a moment to answer. “Let me guess, you’ll take me to a fancy house like Rebecca’s Manderley and Jane Eyre’s manor at the Rochester’s. You’ll show me around, make me feel like I belong. And you’ll leave, high and dry. Again. All the money and presents from your people won’t erase the pain I felt. Not this time, not ever.”

He pressed his thin lips together. Pain, suffering, he was used to it. He had his fair share of it, caused even more to other people. The thought of hurting you, however, was unbearable.

“Every kingdom needs its king...” He paused and moved you, so you were resting on your elbows and your face was closer to his. “And an even greater queen.”

#baron zemo #helmut zemo #marvel imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws spoilers #tfatws #one shot: champagne problems

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literate-lamb · 3 years

Text

can I kiss you on the dancefloor?

Steve Rogers/Reader

One year into a relationship, yet still dancing in secrecy. Steve thinks he’s protecting you.

When a civilian and a hero fall in love, anything could go wrong. But not in the way Steve would have thought.

Or how the media play with the lives of superheroes.

►word count: 7.6k

► warnings(!): slight angst, alcohol

A/N: My gift to @blue-like-barnes for the Hoelentines Fic Exchange! I’m sorry it took some time, giftee. I didn’t expect this to turn into a monster (yikes). Thank you for hosting @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes ! Dividers from @firefly-graphics and GIF from Giphy

On his day-offs, Steve Rogers was a man full of disguises.

When they first started, it was the baseball cap and thick-rimmed glasses. He liked it, it was simple, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would notice. How could one not when his face was the one plastered in old war propaganda, in the museums commemorating his achievements, and even flashes on the telly when you walk past the local electronics store.

Hence, it wasn’t a surprise when the tabloids posted a photo of him in his disguise, waiting at a crosswalk on a cold night.

‘Captain America spotted on a midnight stroll’ came the next morning. It was taken after he was done walking you home, thankful they didn’t catch a glimpse of you.

“So capsicle, where were you off to last night?” Tony greeted him at breakfast, offending paper in hand. He unrolled it, opening and making a show of reading, displaying the front page for all seated to see. “Nice reading glasses, wasn’t aware you needed them.”

Striding into the room, Natasha came and snatched the tabloid. She gave it a critical eye, judging, before turning towards him.

“Hmm, recycling disguises, Rogers? I’m disappointed.”

Steve just groaned in reply.

The second time it happened, he had gone to the Black Widow herself for advice. He had expected sound advice coming from a former KGB spy who spent her paycheck on hair, but all he got was a stick-on mustache. Something about ‘needing to blend in rather than pointing the obvious’.

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Steve, but at least it’s better than that nerd get-up,” she smirked.

You had liked it. Giggling every time he kissed you, the fibres tickling your lips. He had ‘a caterpillar’ on his upper lip as you called it. And Steve had learned to get used to the itch.

But it wasn’t long before his new look was the star in barbershops.

‘Captain America’s new look takes the world by storm.’ They had caught him again in another paparazzi shot. Tony had teased him for days after.

He couldn’t shake it off easily, constantly reminded of it when he walked the streets. Seeing them on screens when he’s channel-surfing. Even when he’s training new recruits, his vision filled with a sea of unshaved cadets, their hairy upper lips a prominent fixture.

He knew he had to do something when Bucky and Sam came in one day sporting twin mustaches.

He discarded the strip of fibre in the bin. Reminding to pay Natasha a visit.

The third time he decided, he seeked out the help of Scott Lang, who was a master in keeping out of sight during his burglary days. Scott had given him a black beanie and told him to grow out his facial hair.

The beanie hid his golden locks and the beard made him look rugged. You loved it, your thighs quivered when it was him and you in the four walls of your room. Uncontrollable groans as he went down. ‘Beard burn’ you had called it. Whatever it was, he loved the sounds you let out.

Four months. That’s how long the disguise lasted. His longest disguise to date.

Before he became a trend.

‘Captain America is the new style icon.’ The internet sleuths found out where he got it too. ‘The sale of Walmart beanies skyrocketed by 70% thanks to Captain America.’

Tony had bought everyone in the compound a black beanie for Christmas, including the receptionist.

“Our grandpa’s a trendsetter, who knew,” he announced. Steve had smacked the back of Tony’s head with the beanie before retiring the disguise.

Now, sitting in The Sleeping Cat, Steve had opted for aviators and a Nasa baseball cap. He still kept his beard after your pleads, and he liked the look, he admits. It was back to basics for him and this was one of the only places where he was safe from prying eyes. Afterall, it was in this very café where he had met you.

The Sleeping Cat was a quaint little thing, a hole in the wall in a quiet part of the city. Not many knew of its existence, the entrance obscure, a blink and you’ll miss it. Which made it all the more perfect for him. The baristas knew him and minded their own business, offering him a smile every time he visited. ‘You’re safe with us’ they seem to say.

He could say the same about the patrons. Most that frequented were regulars like him, they seemed the same, looking for a place to get away from the overbearing world. They seemed to share an understanding, paying him no mind as if he was just another man they passed on the streets. And that’s how he preferred it.

Just a boy from Brooklyn.

Ding!

The chime of the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Facing the door, he saw you, smiling as you came through.

This was the best part of his days.

You had met Steve Rogers at the most unexpected of times.

Terminated from your previous job at a small gallery, dumped by an ex-boyfriend after a 2 year relationship, you were at an utmost low. To escape your roommates —in case of pitying or prying, but if you were honest with yourself, it was to escape your own humiliation— you left the apartment on weekdays under the guise of going to work. In reality, you were at The Sleeping Cat applying for jobs on your laptop.

It was during one of the afternoon hours when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to your left, you were greeted by a pair of startling blues. They were bright but worn as if they’ve seen too many. Looking at the bigger picture, you took him in. Hair hidden under a cap, a sharp jaw and an equally sharp nose, and if you looked closely, you thought you could spot a few moles on his cheeks. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t put a finger to it.

Eyes fleeting to his lips, you realized he was actually talking.

“Huh?”

“I was wondering if this seat’s taken?” He smiled, gesturing towards the empty seat opposite. He was clearly amused.

“Yeah, sure, sure,” you nodded, making room for his things.

The following days, it became a routine and an arrangement. You would be at the café as early as the owner would allow, laptop in hand. While he would come in the afternoons in a different jacket each day, a sketchbook in hand. You would be propped up, sending application after application, praying for luck. While he would quietly sit, churning sketch after sketch, in a relaxed demeanour.

Sometimes you would peek over your screen and watch him draw for a few minutes, lost in his strokes. When you look up, you’ll find his eyes locked with yours, and you’ll immediately reimmerse yourself behind the screen, embarrassed.

It was a comfortable routine. You came to expect him everyday. And on the days that he didn’t make it, you felt a bit forlorn looking at the empty seat. You both didn’t talk much, yet you were getting comfortable in his presence.

Until one day, he broke the silence.

“So, what is it that you do?”

You stared, dumbfounded. Looking around there wasn’t anyone nearby.

“Were you talking to me?” you asked.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “It’s just that you’re always on your computer…” he trailed off.

“I’m an assistant curator at an art gallery— or, er, used to be,” you explained. “Long story short, I lost my job and now I’m looking for a new one, that’s why I’m here.”

He seemed to ruminate before replying, “So you know a thing or two about art?”

You both started a new routine; one with a lot of communicating. He would ask you about your mundane weekends and interests and in turn, you would ask about his. Except, he was anything but mundane.

On the days he was absent, you learned Steve was away on a lot of ‘business trips’. When he returned, he had never failed to present you with a souvenir. From matryoshkas to sarongs, it was always a surprise accompanied by a tale.

“The pattern on the sarong is called a batik, and it’s amazing how they’re drawn using wax like a liquid crayon. It’s an interesting art form.”

Outside of your little routine, he was an enigma. You barely knew about the Steve outside of The Sleeping Cat. Sometimes he threw the names ‘Bucky’ and ‘Sam’ a lot —out of exhaustion— without giving away anything, remaining tight-lipped. While his mysteriousness should’ve been a cause of concern, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards him, wanting to peel more of his layers, like the shell of a matryoshka.

The routine went on for a few more weeks, with calls of interviews and business trips in between. Before you received a phone call.

“I got a job! At the Whitney!” you squealed, shaking his shoulders over the table, oblivious to the other patrons. Steve endured it, smiling.

“Congratulations,” he said when you’ve calmed down. “I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you?”

You froze, high coming down, realization settling in. After a few weeks of secret meetings, of getting to know him, of having lunch together, of sharing laughs, you’ve come to see Steve as a good friend. And maybe, there was the birth of something more.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” you said, opening your phone. “This way, maybe we can hang out again. Have lunch sometimes?”

“I’d like that.” He smiled.

And the rest was history.

Making your way towards The Sleeping Cat, you amused yourself with past memories. Memories from almost over a year ago.

Steve had come to give a speech at the opening ceremony of an exhibition at the Whitney. Your first exhibition as a curator. An exhibition on art from the war times. When they had announced his title, a loud ‘oh’ was the only thing you could muster.

The ‘ding’ of the bell resounded, announcing your arrival. Heading in, you saw a head perked up, beaming, baseball cap securing his golden locks and aviators hiding his mesmerizing blues.

This was the best part of your days.

But maybe, you were getting a little tired.

If someone were to ask you months ago if you were happy and content with your relationship, you would’ve replied with a swift yes in a heartbeat. No hesitation, no reservations, no doubt. Now, sitting in the same cafe, the same one you frequent on dates, the same one you both met in, you weren’t sure of the answer anymore.

As Steve gets up to order for you both, your eyes wander to his sketchpad. It was filled with sketches of random objects; the flower on the table, the pastries on display, sometimes the patrons of the cafe, and occasionally, you.

“You’re my favourite subject, so far.”

It was not for the lack of love or the lack of affection. Steve was the most loving; loyal in so many ways, gentle when asked, and protective to a fault. Maybe the protectiveness was the cause of it all.

Staring at Steve’s back, your mind shifted to a memory from the past week, when your roommate pulled you aside from a get-together at the ice rink.

“Hey,” she called your name, taking a hold of your elbow. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure, what’s up?” you followed her, leading you to the sides.

Her eyes conveyed her worry. It amplified with the chewing of her bottom lip, a nervous tick.

“Are you and Steve… okay?” she asked, her brows perked. “I’m not sure if you notice, but today, it’s full of couples.”

You looked towards your group of friends. There was your roommate’s girlfriend tying her skates, your other roommate and her boyfriend talking to another couple —their friends— and they were all holding their significant other’s hand. Oh.

“I don’t want to throw you out of the loop, but there would probably be a lot of double skating involved today,” she said, widening her eyes, looking comical. “Do you want me to talk to Steve? Maybe I could convince him to come, y’know?”

Out of your two roommates, she was the only one who knew of your paramour. Having walked in on you and Steve making out on the couch. She was sworn into secrecy, with the promise of autographs from all the Avengers.

“Look, it’s okay,” you assured her. “I can handle skating alone, and you know why he can’t really come here with us,” you shrugged.

“Okay, but aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around? Don’t you want to shout to the whole world ‘I’m fucking Captain America!’” she flailed.

You shushed her, muffling her mouth with your gloved hand.

Part of the secret was how Steven Rogers was an engineered superhero. A superhero with many enemies, leading him to fear for his loved ones, and that included you.

You went into the relationship whole-heartedly knowing the challenges; discreet rendezvous, kisses in the dark, minimal contact in public. You were his secret and he was yours. It was for your own good, wasn’t it?

“What’s got your little head wrapped up?” Steve’s voice startled you, bringing you back to the café. On the table, two cups of coffee and a slice of cake was served.

“Hmm? Oh, just thinking about this party the museum’s throwing this weekend,” you took your cup, blowing, contemplating your next words.“Say, how about you and I, I don’t know, go as dates?”

Steve crunched his brows. “You know that’s a hard thing for me to do, especially with your colleagues around.”

“I know! But maybe… maybe, you can go in one of your disguises this time? Remember that one time we went to Central Park?”

Steve exhaled, he remembered that afternoon. It was the one-off that you both ventured on a date in the outdoors.

Decked in his beanie, casually strolling through Central Park with you beside him. Although he was still wary, keeping his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge to hold your hand.

No one had recognized him; not the ice-cream man, not the kids running around, not the mothers pushing strollers. No one.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You leaned forward, pecking him on the lips multiple times. “Thank you!”

“You sure this looks convincing?”

“Trust me, punk. Grade A assassin here, thank you very much,” Bucky boasted while fixing the wig on his scalp, untangling the unruly strands.

Steve had sought Bucky for help, with the belief that assassins were good at hiding in plain sight (and maybe, he just didn’t want to go to Natasha twice). Bucky was also his most trusted confidant and he knew about you, Steve trusted him not to tell. But now looking at himself in the opposite mirror, he wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

Long dangly tresses hung on the sides of his face parting in the middle, a trimmed beard leaving a bit of goatee, and to finish it off, Bucky dressed him in a checkered shirt consisting of random coloured squares. He looked like he just stepped out of the 60’s.

“Oh, wear these,” Bucky handed him a pair of large wire-framed glasses. “Done.”

Steve took a look in the mirror. A seedy pimp was the first thought that crossed his mind.

“Thanks Buck, I owe you one.”

“Sure Stevie, just bring me around next time on one of your dates, I’d like to meet her,” Bucky winked. “Or make it double.” He wagged his brows. “Like old times.”

Steve snorted.

“Okay, I got—“ Steve’s words halted when an alarm blared overhead. It demanded their attention.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, your presence is required in Prep Room six,” called the disembodied voice. “There’s been a breach of extraterrestrial energy in the airspace of Sweden.”

Steve exited and rushed through the hallways, Bucky following close behind. He made it through the living quarters, trudging to the training wing before entering one of the many prep rooms.

“Nice costume, Cap. Halloween already?” Sam quipped. Almost everyone was present, they were equally amused.

Before anyone else could follow, Tony strided in immediately, grumbling. “Okay team, there’s been an E.T synthezoid putting holes in the ozone layer. I’ll fill you all in the quinjet. Suit up and meet me at the hangover in 10.”

Everybody gathered their equipment and hurried to leave, passing by him. Before Tony could, he took notice of Steve and did a double take. And then a third.

“What’s with the pimp daddy get-up, Capsicle?”

Steve huffed, ignoring the jab. “I have something that I need to attend. How important am I in this, Tony?”

“We need all hands on deck. We don’t really know what we’re up against, Fury’s still running recon,” Tony explained, squaring his shoulders. “Whatever it is you have, Cap. It can wait. Lives are at stake here.” With that, he left, not standing by for a response.

“Darn it,” Steve cursed, removing the glasses and the wig.

He left the prep room with his shield in hand. With one hand, he shot a text to you. He’ll make it up next time.

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Emergency mission

Loverboy [6:30 PM]: Can’t make it, sorry

You switched the screen off, sighing. Around you, the party was in full swing. Invitees mingling with refreshments in hand, discussing the pieces on display tonight, and bidding on the pieces they find exquisite. Hors d’oeuvres and champagne were being served, brought around by servers on silver platters. You’ve been munching on them non-stop, grabbing one every time a server comes your way, needing something to occupy you.

Surrounding you, you’d see the occasional couple walking around, enjoying their time. The palms of their hands locked in each other’s as they navigate together, rarely straying afar.

You clenched your hand, reminded of how empty it felt.

It was inevitable, you were warned of this, you were told to expect this. Dating a superhero meant that he was never solely yours. You were sharing your boyfriend with someone, except that someone was the world.

“Hiiii!” a shrill voice broke your thought, calling you by name. A blonde woman, followed by a brunette emerged from the gathering of art-goers, headed towards you. “It’s been a long while!”

“Hey! Yeah, it’s been awhile,” you waved, recognizing the two.

When they reached you, you were aware of the slight tension in the air, leaving the three of you standing awkwardly. After all, these two were your ex-colleagues and you didn’t exactly leave the previous gallery on good terms. Tonight was a night with masks, it seemed.

“So, how are you two doing?” you decided to get it over with.

“We’re fine, everyone’s fine! But how are you? We heard you worked here now, pretty impressive,” the brunette —Claire— winked at you. You laughed.

“Yeah, it’s so nice seeing you again, and at the Whitney? The pay must be good, you know what I’m saying?” Hilda chimed, knocking her elbows with yours. You didn’t appreciate it but you endured.

“Say, what are you doing over here far away? Why not you join us over there,” Hilda pointed, towards a mounted canvas at the end of the hall. It was occupied by two men in a discussion among themselves. “Chat a bit to catch up, a bit of art philosophical debate in between. What do you say?”

You contemplated her offer, not wanting to seem pretentious, but thought about the false flattery and ego-stroking that would sure ensue in their company. The thought of it drained you.

“It’s okay,” you waved them off nervously. “I have to call my boyfriend sooner, gotta check up on him and let him know I’m... alright.” You held up your phone, playing on convincing.

“Oh? He isn’t here tonight?” Claire seemed to feign worry.

“No, he got caught up with something. He’s a busy man,” you cooked up an excuse. No one could know.

“Okay… In that case, we’ll leave you to it. Maybe we’ll bump into each other sooner.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you guys soon.”

They waved before backing away into the mass of patrons. You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in.

While the interaction was unexpected, this was what you had to deal with when it came to the question of your relationship. The excuses, they became second nature to you. The lies. The deceit. Anything to protect Steve’s identity, and inadvertently, you.

Throughout the night, you mingled with any clients interested in a work of art, all the while stepping out of Hilda and Claire’s line of sight. You didn’t wish a repeat of the earlier evening.

When the crowd started dwindling, signalling the end of the night, you were relieved of your duties. You headed straight for the restrooms after, one getaway before leaving. You huddled yourself in a cubicle, locking it shut.

Seconds in, you heard the creak of the restroom door followed by the clicks of heels.

“Can you believe it? Someone like that got the chance of working here.”

You recognized the nasally tone. It was Claire.

“Yeah? Not like she deserves it. I mean look at her? Demure, slow. It’s like talking to a mouse. I bet she’s a prude too.” That was Hilda.

The gushing of the faucet muffled their voices, but their sharp words were clear as day, your ear catching every snark and hiss.

“And when she was talking about her boyfriend? He probably doesn’t even exist, it was just to get off our backs,” Hilda paused. “Last time I heard, her boyfriend dumped her. So, I guess she’s creating imaginary ones now.”

They both cackled.

By now, you knew they were talking about you. Their words didn’t hurt as much, you knew the colour of their hearts beneath the masks. But was that how people viewed your hidden relationship? A facade? A farce?

Once the door clicked shut, and the tapping of their heels faded, you left the restroom, heart feeling heavier.

(y/n) [6:45 PM]: stay safe stevie ! remember to hydrate

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: punch those meanies

(y/n) [6:46 PM]: (`⌒*)⍟-(`⌒´Q)

Steve chuckled when he turned on his phone, amused at your texts. You always sent him good luck messages every time he went off for missions. Although he didn’t seem to get the emoticons that you sent, even after being taught by Peter Parker. He just didn’t get them.

Steve dialed your number, sitting on the edge of the bed as he dried his washed hair. Beeps ringed before you picked up, your smooth lilt permeating the speakers.

“Hello? Stevie?”

Steve smiled, missing the caress of your voice after a day filled with explosions and cries.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he greeted. “How’s my girl been?”

“Great, now that you called,” you teased. “But are ‘you’ fine?” you emphasized.

On the other end of the line, you mirrored his position, sitting on one corner of the bed. Picking the newspaper in your lap, you observed the front page: ‘Avengers saves the Arctic!’

“Same old, same old,” his voice carries. “Listen, about yesterday—“

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him, other hand gripping the newspaper. “You have to protect the Earth and that also means me. You don’t have to apologize, I knew what I signed up for.”

Did you? Or was it now a hollow statement to convince yourself?

“I still want to make up for it, my girl deserves that much,” he responded.

You slowly unclenched the paper. It left Steve’s form crinkled.

“If you want to sooo bad,” you exaggerated. “There’s a Valentines charity ball for our arts program in three weeks time. You think you could make it this time?”

“You know no promises, but I plan to, even if I have to do everyone’s laundry for a week.” You heard rustling on the other line. “What’s the exact date? I’ll put it on my calendar.”

“The 16th.” Scratchy scribbling filled your ear, the sound loud in the silence.

“Done. Can’t wait to see you all dolled up, sweetheart.”

“Me too, baby,” you said. “At least put on a nice moustache this time.”

He laughed. Your heart felt lighter. To him, it was probably nothing, but to you, it was a form of reassurance. A reassurance that what you had was real.

“Steve, you got a moment?”

The aforementioned man turned around, taking a glance over his shoulder. Sharon Carter slowed to a stop, a small smile on her face. As always, she carried an air of superiority, matching that of Steve’s wavelength. Yet today, it seemed dim.

“I think we need to talk, you have time for coffee?”

Glancing at his watch, he nodded. “Sure, Sharon. Lead the way.”

She took them outside of S.H.I.E.L.D and into the chilly air of DC, navigating through streets and crowds while huddling in their coats. They chatted, breaths puffing as they caught up, the familiar scenes passing by.

He hadn’t been in DC in awhile, it felt good to be back.

“We’re here.”

Sharon headed in first, holding the door for him. He thanked her. They ordered and got seated. A smile was shared, strained as it seemed.

“Better just rip the band-aid off,” Sharon sighed. “I miss us.”

“Sharon—“

“Please, hear me out first,” she insisted, showing her palm. “We probably shouldn’t have done what we’ve done after Aunt Peggy’s funeral. I just lost someone I looked up to the most, and you lost the woman that you loved. We were both grieving. It wasn’t fair to the both of us.”

“While I do miss us, I know that it wasn’t meant to be,” she continued, shooting a sombre smile. “I understand that now. I guess, what I wanted was closure.”

Her hand quivered on the table between them. Steve clasped his over hers, offering to soothe.

“I don’t regret what happened in Germany. While yes, it should have not happened, it was what we thought we needed at that time. We both lost someone we held dear,” Steve explained, hoping his words reached her. “None of it was a mistake, Sharon. You’re still someone I trust and hold dear, remember that.”

Steve clutched her hand tighter, running his thumb over her knuckles in circular motions, attempting to calm and show understanding.

In his efforts, unknown to the two, the shutter of a camera went off across the street.

Something felt off. Everything that could go wrong, went wrong. At first, you thought it was your own anxious mind running.

You woke up late on a work day, burned your eggs and toast, accidentally wore unmatching socks, and your roommate was acting weird. All jittery when you entered the hall, stammering her words, and performing this bizarre dance when you walked past the living room. You gave her no mind when you passed the threshold and slammed the door, phone gripped in hand.

Loverboy [6:00 AM]: Good morning, dear

Loverboy [6:01 AM]: [image]

A photo of Steve, sweaty after a run showed on the screen. He was smiling, shirt stained and clinging to his chest. You had taught him how to take selfies.

You [7:20 AM]: morning, handsome

You [7:20 AM]: 😍😍😍

The morning texts were the best part of your morning commute. It made the arduous and packed journey worthwhile. Even when you almost tripped at the doors, it couldn’t take away your joy.

You made it just in time and clocked in, meeting clients and discussions with artists throughout the day. It was uneventful, although the bad luck seemed to have followed when you spilled your coffee on the concrete.

It was when you left the museum that your day took a turn for the worst.

On the ride home, the man opposite you was reading a newspaper. Nothing unusual, but at a glance, you thought you saw a familiar face printed on the corner. Before you could take a closer look, the man folded it in half and got off.

A few minutes later, you arrived at your stop, exiting the station with the fast-paced crowd. That’s when you were bombarded.

Lining the streets, your vision was filled with the scattering of a crowd of papers. Every face you saw was plastered in them.

‘The Good Captain In Love?’

‘A Superhero & A Civilian Romance?’

‘Captain America’s Girl? Mysterious Woman Sighted’

The sight of them left you in a panic, your anxiety spiking through the roof. Your world started spinning, everything —buildings, trees, faces— blending altogether. Everywhere your eyes deflected, a headline invaded your sight, imprinting itself on your retinas. Had they found out?

Composing yourself, you headed towards the nearest news stall, mind boggled with too many questions and not enough answers. How? Why? When?

Only, it wasn’t your face they were publishing.

‘“Oh Captain, My Captain” America in love? Spotted last week in DC was Captain Steven Rogers with a mysterious lady. They seemed to be cozy with each other, an eyewitness told Us Weekly. Story on Page 11.’

The photograph showcased Steve with a blonde woman, sitting in a café with their hands clasped on the table. Your heart shattered at the sight, remembering how empty yours have felt lately.

Was he purposely out with this woman in public? What did that mean for you? Why were you shadowed?

“Are you and Steve… okay?”

“She’s creating imaginary ones now.”

“Aren’t you tired? Of all this sneaking around?”

“You know that’s a hard thing for me to do.”

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?”

You were shaken out of your stupor. Looking down, you were clutching the magazine too hard, ripping the image of Steve and the woman in half, right in the middle where their hands met.

You apologized to the man and paid for the magazine. Immediately discarding it in the next trash bin you saw.

“So… you and Sharon?” Sam had asked him after training.

“What?”

“You, and, Sharon,” Sam emphasized, pronouncing each syllable. “Are together. Man, when were you gonna tell me? I thought it was over.”

Steve froze before replying, “Because it is. A long time ago.”

“Well, this seems to say otherwise.”

Sam showed him his phone, the screen displaying an article; ‘Captain America’s Girl Revealed. A Family Affair That Transcends Time.’ On top of the article was a photo of him and Sharon at the cafe in DC, his hand atop of hers on the table. A zoomed in version of their hands were provided, fueling the tabloid’s narrative.

Steve paled at the sight. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was his fears manifested; his anonymity taken, his privacy invaded, but his worst fear was putting his loved ones in danger. And if it was due to their association with him, it would leave him racked with guilt.

While the tabloids were wrong, he knew that Sharon could defend for herself. You on the other hand…

His heart rate rose, a new wave of anxiety spiked. Steve wondered if you’ve seen this. No, you must’ve seen this.

Fishing for his phone, with clammy hands, Steve quickly dialed your number, anxiously waiting for the beeping to end.

‘The number you’ve dialed is not—‘

“Damn it!”

His outburst surprised Sam, shocking him. Sam gave him a look, inquisitive.

“Sorry Sam, I have to run.”

He left, heart in his throat.

When Steve arrived at your apartment, he was almost out of breath. He was still anxious, the ride here not doing much to his addled mind. But he was determined.

Rapidly knocking on your front door, Steve composed himself. When it opened, he was met with the sight of your roommate -- the one that he has never met before.

“Ca-Captain America?” she yelped, shocked to see him on the doorstep.

“Is your roommate in?” he steeled.

“Which one—”

“Steve,” a voice interrupted.

The door pulled further, widening the entrance. Steve was met with your familiar roommate. She was tense, arms locked across her chest, eyes full of fury. Steve detected something else in them; worry.

“You fucked up,” she said. He winced.

“I know,” he admitted. “And I’m here to make things right. Can I please see her?”

She sighed, stepping in, nodding towards your room.

Steve hastily walked in, stopping in front of your door. He knocked thrice, signalling you, before turning the knob. It was unlocked. The room was dark when he entered, every source of light switched off, except for your curtains.

Sitting on the edge of the bed was you, figure illuminated by the street lights against pitch black darkness. When he stepped in closer, you looked up, eyes meeting his.

Steve turned on the lights and closed the door. He took a good look at you; hair frazzled, eyes bloodshot and dry, nose red. You were the image of heartbreak.

“Are you ashamed of me?” you asked, eyes locked with his.

“What? No, I—“

“Is it because I’m not strong?” you cut him off. “I know she’s Peggy’s niece… a-and I know how much you loved her. She was your first love.”

“She and I, it’s all in the past. She moved on and lived her life, and I… did too.”

“But did you really, Steve? Move on?” you whispered, getting up. You stood in front of him. Steve could see how puffed your eyes were from crying. “Or was I just… a rebound?”

“No. No, you were never a rebound,” he took hold of your forearms. “I care for you, too much.”

“Then why?!” you shrieked, shocking Steve. “Why the secrets? Why the hiding? Steve, you’ve never even introduced me to your friends. Shouldn’t they know?”

“I wanted to protect you!”

“Protect me from what?!” you roared, eyes full of fury. “The Avengers? If they knew about me, they would protect me. Don’t you think so?”

Steve had no words to that, his mind a jumbled mess.

“I’m… beginning to think that you’re embarrassed with me,” you sighed. “We’ve never been on a date publicly, as each other. We’ve never held hands in public. I want you to meet my friends. I want to introduce you to them, and maybe soon, I want you to meet my family.”

“B-but, I’m tired, Steve. Tired of all the hiding. Of all the sneaking around. I want to tell the world that I’m in love with Steve Rogers, not Captain America,” you sighed, shedding a few tears.

You waited for his reply, only to be disappointed.

“You know I can’t do that.”

You saw red. All you saw was red.

You started pushing him, swatting him in the chest. Steve didn’t fight back, letting you unleash your anger, your disappointment. He took your hits, letting you release your pent up emotions. He began backing away when you started advancing, back against the door.

“Get out! Get out!” you screeched, pushing him.

When he unlocked the door and crossed, you immediately shut the door in his face. Steve heard sobbing from inside, his heart shattering at the sounds.

“This way, Captain,” your roommate approached him, showing him to the door.

Steve relented, shame flooding him. He fucked up.

You stopped visiting The Sleeping Cat, wanting to avoid him at all costs. You blocked his number. You immersed yourself in your work, prepping for the upcoming charity gala.

Sometimes you find yourself thinking about him when sleep proved to be difficult. It’s when you’re laying at night that you missed him the most.

But it was for the best, you reasoned. For you and him.

The Avengers PR had pushed for a fix-it, publishing a story that spoke a truth. ‘Just Friends: Romantic Allegations Proved False’. Steve had hoped you’d seen it.

He called you every day but found himself blocked from everything. He still tried, hoping you’d come around one day. He came by The Sleeping Cat every other day, sitting in the same spot, hoping to catch you.

But you never came.

You clasped the necklace in place, admiring how it sat on your clavicle through the mirror. You took a step back and took yourself in, smiling at what you saw. It didn’t reach your eyes.

Today was the day of the Valentines gala and you weren’t feeling particularly giddy about it.

Opening your phone, you stared at the one contact that stood out, finger hovering over his name. That name used to give you so many feelings, but today it was a reminder that you were going alone, again.

Sighing, you threw it in your purse and left. Another lonely night, and on an even celebrating love.

Days turned into weeks, and soon, before he knew it, the day of your Valentines gala arrived.

Steve stared at the calendar. The heart-shaped doodle he drew called out to him, reminding him of fond memories. Fond memories that seemed like a distant dream. But then, he went back to last week, and it all came crashing.

He had hurt you. While thinking he was protecting you, he hadn’t realized he was inadvertently pushing you away. He had no one to blame but himself.

He loved you. No, still loves you. You grounded him, gave him the normalcy that he craved. Reminded him of a distant time before he was Captain America.

You made him feel like the boy from Brooklyn again.

While he was ruminating in his feelings, Steve was caught off-guard when the door burst open with Tony Stark coming through. From his peripheral, he could see Bucky and Sam peeking through the frame.

“Heard from the Manchurian Candidate that someone has a case of the achy breaky heart,” Tony said, smug.

“Leave me alone, Tony. I’m not in the mood,” he grumbled, setting down the calendar.

“And leave you wallowing like shit while your girl is out there probably equally miserable? I know a thing or two about women, Rogers, and it’s that they don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Tony snapped his fingers and from behind, Sam came in with a tuxedo in hand.

“Thought you might need this,” Sam said.

Bucky came out behind him, with a brush and can of hairspray. “And I still know how to do hair.”

“And I have friends in places,” Tony quipped. “I can get you in.”

Steve was surprised. His friends had surprised him. You would’ve loved them. He was left speechless.

“What are you waiting for, Cap? Suit up.” Tony winked.

Swirling the glass of rosé, your gaze fell towards the dance floor. An upbeat song was being played as people flocked near the middle, letting their bodies take charge for the night. You saw your former co-workers among the throng, hands thrown around their significant others, having the time of their lives.

The gala was in full swing, if the crowd and chatter was any indication. Red and roses were the main theme, with a red carpet stretching from the grand staircase towards the main hall and roses lining every corner and wall. Taking it all in, you were proud to see your ideas visualized and work came to fruition.

You sipped your rosé, enjoying every bit of the gala as you could. From the sidelines, you spoke with a few potential clients and art collectors. Their presence made you feel your importance, and if you dared say it, a little less lonely.

It was during one of your little chats that you didn’t realize when the hall suddenly fell quiet. You turned around when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Hi folks, mind if I crash your party?”

Steve smiled at Tony’s antics. They both had arrived at the gallery dressed in their best, and with Tony’s connections, they were granted access.

Stepping down the grand staircase, Steve felt all eyes on him. He paid them no mind, the thought of you the only occupant of his racing mind. Gazing over the crowd, Steve spotted you to the side, occupied in a chatter.

Taking deliberate steps, Steve soon found himself behind you. He admired your gown and hair, it entranced him. You still hadn’t registered his presence, even when your partner had ceased chatting and was now staring at him.

With a tap on your shoulder, he was taken away as immediately as you spun around. Steve took in your whole image; your dolled-up face, your intricate dress, your styled hair. It left him floored.

You always did manage to take his breath away. Was this what he had been missing out all this time?

Taking your unoccupied hand, Steve pressed a small kiss before meeting your eyes.

“May I have this dance?”

Giving away your drink, you took his hand as he pulled your towards the centre, taking space among the crowd. A slow number started, and before you realized, you were swept in a slow dance. It didn’t take long before you felt the sensation of his two left feet.

“Sorry, a hundred years and you’d think I’d know how to dance,” he said.

A small smile lightened your face. Steve savoured it all he could. Gulping, he took the first step.

“I’m... sorry for what I’ve done. I realize now that you were right,” he started. “I thought I was protecting you, but now I see that all it did was push you away. You have all the rights to be mad at me. I was being an idiot, a selfish one. I didn’t think about how you felt about it.”

You winced. Steve had stepped on your toes again. He murmured an apology, resorting to swaying instead.

“Can we start again? No more hiding. No more disguises,” he breathed, keeping his eyes locked on yours. “ We can meet your friends, you can meet mine. Bucky’s been pestering me to bring you to the compound, he wants to meet you.”

You laughed. How Steve had missed the tune.

“How can I make it up to you? How do you want to take the first step? A picnic at Central Park? Dinner at the compound? A trip to the beach?”

You seemed to contemplate, a thoughtful look on your face. You both failed to realize all the eyes on you two.

“How about now?”

“Right here? Right now?” he asked.

“Yes, right here, right now,” you said, determined.

Without hesitation —no more— Steve dived in, planting a kiss on your wine-coloured lips for the whole world to see. Your first kiss in public, yet it felt as if it was only the two of you there, lost in the moment.

You both didn’t notice the gasping crowd nor the clicks of cameras from photographers nor the booming laughter of Tony Stark. You both only felt the other in your orbit, and that was all that mattered.

“Can you put that down? You’ve been staring at it for the past hour.”

You pouted, setting the frame on the side table, where it has been designated since its publication.

“I can’t help it, I think it’s a good shot. Don’t you think so, Alpine?” you petted the snowy white cat lazing on the arm of the sofa. Its’ purrs intensified.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bucky shouted.

You and Steve left the room, joining the others in the dining room for dinner. On the side table, the framed article sat neatly, showcasing the tale of the famed occurrence that took place at a charity gala.

‘America’s Girl: The Modern Woman of The Captain’s Dreams.’

Fin.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #fluff #angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #happyhoelentinesday2021

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

The Late Shift

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: There’s actually none (I hope). I know. I’m surprised too.

Authors Note: This is so dumb. I’m aware. Look, I’ve been dealing with a horrendous writers block and shattered confidence and I made Paul Sevier gifs to ease my pain. It turned into this. I just wanted to try something a little cute and fluffy to get back into the swing of things. So... here it is.

It was going to be a long night.

Stuck on the Wednesday evening shift for the third time this month, you mindlessly fiddled with the pen in your hand. Twirling it between your fingers, your mind drifted away from the present moment, wondering why your boss seemed to dislike you so much to keep you here past 6pm in the middle of the week. He’d always been adamant this was prime selling time for this boutique suit store, with corporate clients needing to do their shopping outside of normal business hours.

You, however, knew keeping this place open was senseless, barely seeing more than a few unenthusiastic customers in these agonizingly slow stretches. Working on commission also made you all the more bitter about being paid minimum wage to stand behind a counter and doodle sketches of imaginary clients dressed in the outfits you personally tailored. This isn’t where you thought a Bachelor of Arts in Fashion Design would take you, that’s for sure.

“H-hello,” you heard a deep voice quietly greet you, startling you into focus. “Are you busy? I… think I need a little help.”

Eyes flickering up from the notepad, you were sure your pupils blew wide at the sight of the man in front of you. Standing at an imposingly large height, his hair a severely murky shade of black, with honeyed irises shining brightly behind delicate spectacles.

A human personification of tall, dark and handsome. Well, except for the clothes.

The stranger wore the layered combination of a grey tweed jacket and argyle patterned sweater, arranged over a particularly heinous, mustard-coloured button up. While the ensemble made you internally cringe, it gave him an air of intelligence, like the kind that hangs around stuffy, old college professors who have more academic accolades than you have fingers and toes.

“Me?” you coughed out, knowing full well you were the only other person in this tiny little shop. “Uh, yeah. I mean- No, no I’m not busy. What is it you need help with?” Even when you stood, the man towered above you, making you silently begin to calculate the high-numbered measurements you’d need to fit him in something.

“I have an important meeting scheduled for Friday. You know, the type you need to wear a suit to?” Evidently the thought of it made him nervous, as you noticed his cheek twitch slightly, his eyes scanning momentarily at the garments filling the space. “I’m… uh… not so great with clothes.”

Clearly, you chuckled inside your head, holding the word from your tongue. “You want me to pick out something for you?”

He took a defeated breath, his mouth twisting into an awkward yet wonderfully endearing smile. “Would you mind? Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble!” you burst, maybe a little too excitedly. “It’s my job!” Bounding out from behind the counter you’d been imprisoned by, you moved directly to the section of classic navy business suits. Slim line. Something to accentuate his well-built frame, rather than hide it away. You had to pause, swivelling back around to the dumbfounded man. “Is price an issue… uh…?”

“Paul,” he answered for you, slowly moving to where you stood. “And… I suppose not. Probably should spend the money on something that will last. If you think it’s a good idea.”

Oh thank god, you mused without showing the relief on your face. He’s not some rich asshole trying to flash his cash. “A good suit can last you five years, if you treat it right.” Your hand reached over to graze one of the deepened blue sleeves of a jacket at your left. “And a classic colour will never go out of style.”

Paul let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I think you’ve already noticed how lacking in style I am…” He glanced to your nametag, murmuring your name with a goofy smirk curling his lips. You’d never seen a grown man, especially not one of this stature, appear so adorable. It was horribly distracting.

“I’m sure you have expertise in other areas,” you stumbled, realizing only when the words came out how offensive they might seem. Yet Paul conceded to your comment, his rumbling laugh making your chest feel tight.

“Debatable,” he shrugged. “I’m just glad I found some qualified personnel to help me in this instance.”

Oh boy. Humble and charming? You were in so much trouble. Surely someone as sweet as this had another waiting for them at home. “I’m sure your partner could help you pick out something nice too.”

“Not an option in my case.”

Shit. Single too. You were truly fucked.

You turned, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat by focusing on finding an outfit that would contain his longer limbs. Plucking out a matching jacket and trouser set, with an ivory, collared button-up, you offered them to Paul, his features having melted into a sweetened look of intrigue. “Go and try these on. There’s a changeroom just behind the counter. See how they feel, and we can go from there.”

He nodded, taking the pieces with both of his large hands and shuffling away to where you’d pointed to. No sooner than the latch had locked were you dashing to where your phone was sitting at the register, flitting out a rushed text message to your favourite co-worker.

There was rustling you heard emanating from the changeroom stall, doing your best to ignore the urge of picturing Paul, a man you’d met only minutes ago, gradually slipping off his clothes to reveal the toned muscles underneath. You grimaced at yourself, shaking your head to banish the imaginations. God this was unprofessional.

Finally, a response lit up on your phone screen.

You laughed softly through your nose, about to type a reply when you heard the lock click open again. The breath in your lungs was stuck as Paul made his way out, the expensive textiles draping over his burly frame in a way that made your whole body tense.

He rustled a hand through his hair, looking up to you while fidgeting with the starchy material stretched over his chest. “Does it look okay?”

After all these years working this job, the enticing novelty of attractive men in well-fitted suits had slowly worn off, especially when most of them treated you with about as much respect as the used gum they spit out onto the sidewalk. Suddenly, all those preconceived notions were gone. On Paul, this ensemble instantly became the most captivating thing in the entire universe.

The inside of your mouth flooded with saliva, having to swallow hard before speaking again. “Great… it looks… great.” You did your best to conceal a settling exhale. “What do you think? How does it feel?”

Paul shifted to look at his reflection in the mirror, pupils trailing up and down, flexing his limbs in an attempt to get a proper impression of the new apparel. “It feels really good. Makes me look… sophisticated.” He turned to you, his expression unsure. “Right?”

Your smile was sparkling, nodding to his question. There was a small amount of work to do, noting how in your effort to make sure everything complemented his physique, you’d oversized him. The waistline of the jacket needed to be taken in, the shoulder lines sitting slightly off, and the trouser length needing to be taken up slightly. “A couple of adjustments and it’ll be perfect.”

“You mean taking it to be tailored?”

“No need.” You pulled out the wheel of berry pins from your pocket, kneeling down on the floor next to Paul’s feet. “All our tailoring is included in the price. Done completely in house.” You began to fold the bottom edge of his pants, pinning it to an adequate length. “I can have it ready for you tomorrow, all ready for your Friday meeting.”

“You do all the tailoring yourself?” Paul asked as you slinked another pin through the fabric.

“Sure do,” you chirped, moving onto the other leg. “3 years at a design school taught me a few things about cutting and sewing.” With the hemlines in place, you straightened in front of him, plucking out a roll of measuring tape from your other pocket. “I just… need to take a few measurements to properly alter the jacket.”

His cheek twitched, the line of his jaw seeming somewhat strained. “Sure. F-fine. Do what you gotta do."

You went with determining his arm length first, feeling out the boney point of his shoulder and striping the lined tape all the way down to his wrist. Then, after taking a deep inhale, you curled your arms around his hips, focusing hard on the little black numbers to ignore the fact Paul’s breath had started to skate over your skin with this close proximity. It was when you were lining up the thickened stripes indicating his chest circumference that you made the mistake of peering up, finding his alluring stare fully concentrated on you.

There was a moment. A spark to waiting kindling. Where impulse could have led you to do a dangerous thing. You’d never been the hasty type, never acted without considerable thought. Usually so shy and composed, never making the first move. Although right now, you could scarcely hold yourself back, desperate to know the sensation of Paul’s lips, how they’d move over yours, what they tasted like.

No. This was so inappropriate.

The compulsion was about to wither away when you felt a hand skim up your waist, the lightened touch shooting a thrill over your skin.

“Excuse me,” a gruff voice called from your side. “How much are these dress socks?”

You immediately stepped back, smacked into reality again. “$12.99. Exactly what it says on the box.”

The older gentlemen scrutinized the packaging, lids narrowed until he finally saw the numbers plastered at the border. “Oh, right. Eh, a little expensive for my taste. Thanks anyway.”

Flustered, you began to coil the measuring tape into its resting spiral, forcefully glaring at the floor. “I’m all done. You can get dressed into your own clothes now.”

In your periphery you saw Paul regarding you with a gentle nod, walking back into the changeroom without another word. Every part of you wanted to sink beneath the wooden floorboards, so horrendously embarrassed you could feel a smoldering heat prickle at your cheeks. Only to relieve some of the nervous energy, you ran to your phone.

Again, Paul was exiting out of the stall just as you were going to submit your reply, placing the neatly arranged garments over the counter. It was difficult to look directly at him, having to summon all remaining shards of your courage to drift your eyes up to his face. “Was there anything else you needed?”

His mouth parted, only to quickly snap shut, scratching at his hairline in the seconds it took for him to give you a response. “No. Nothing else. Unless there’s something more you think I need.”

You shook your head, wishing you could give another answer just to keep him here. “You’re all set.” The full price of his items flashed on the monitor in front of you, spouting it to him as your fingers flicked across the keyboard to finalize the purchase, with a personal discount that wouldn’t show on the receipt.

“When should I come by to pick it up?” he queried, passing you his credit card. “Oh, but there’s no pressure. Whenever you have the time is just fine.”

An idea flared. “If you give me your number, I can text you when it’s ready.”

“That works for me.”

Erasing all evidence of the conversation you’d been having, you brought up the number pad, handing your phone over. Paul swiftly typed in his details before placing it back in your palm. ‘Paul the Suit Guy’ the contact read, unable to stifle your laugh.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His eager expression made your heart quiver through a beat.

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “I’ll see you then.”

Paul waved his hand in an awkward flourish to signal his goodbye, eventually moving far enough from your vision for you to finally take a full, relaxed breath. In a dazed hurry, you keyed in your returning message to your co-worker.

It was the precise moment your thumb had pressed into the ‘Send’ button that you realised your recipient wasn’t the one you’d intended.

You’d sent this message straight to Paul.

Fuck. Oh fuck. This was bad.

While you were scrambling to formulate a believable excuse, a new message popped up onto the screen.

Tags for my lovelies who might tolerate this nonsense: @tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @safarigirlsp @blackberries45 @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynzandtonic @beskarbabs

#paul sevier #paul sevier x reader #paul sevier x female reader #midnight special #adcu #adcu fanfiction

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sapphirelass · 3 years

Text

Two Peas in a Pod - Harry PotterxSister!Reader

Please note:

1: I don’t own any of the gifs used, nor any already established characters, so credit to the authors and original creators - You have done a phenomenal job :)

2: English is not my native language, as I was born and raised in Sweden. I have, however, studied English for almost a decade, so I don’t think it’ll be a problem, I just thought I’d let you know ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For this one-shot I have taken inspiration from both the book and the film, as well as left out parts of the original dialogue that, for the purpose of this story, felt irrelevant.

Word count: ≈ 2400

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You probably already knew this, but still XD

(Y/N) - Your name

(Y/N/N) - Your nickname

(Y/H/C) - Your hair colour

(Y/H/L) - Your hair length

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Peas in a Pod

Harry Potter and his twin sister (Y/N) were like two peas in a pod. Always had been. Supposedly, that was what happened when young magicians had to grow up with muggles, especially if those muggles were named “Dursley”. Harry was always more impulsive, whereas (Y/N) took on the role of the rational one, yet they had both been placed in Gryffindor house by the sorting hat four years prior.

It was now the first of September 1995, and last year had been a rough one. Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard who had killed Harry and (Y/N)’s parents, had just come back and despite their efforts, this holiday had been more miserable than any of the previous ones. Dudley and his friends, dementor attacks, and a general lack of communication with the wizarding world left the twins in a particularly bad mood. They arrived at Kings Cross, and after pulling Harry away from Draco Malfoy, (Y/N), her brother, Ron and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts express, and found a place to sit.

During the start-of-the-year feast, the small group of friends quickly realized that something was wrong. Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor - Dolores Umbridge - was a ministry employe, which was weird on its own, but the way she spoke, acted, and kept interrupting Dumbledore with shrill, irritating *hum hum*’s made them all feel queasy.

After a quiet discussion in the common room (and quite a bit of loud arguing between Harry and Seamus Finnigan), they went to bed, yawning, and not exactly looking forward to that year’s first period of DADA.

***

They entered the classroom, and to their surprise, Umbridge actually wasn’t there yet. Harry and (Y/N) shared a confused look, but went to sit down, Harry with Ron, and (Y/N) with Hermione. Eventually though, the professor did arrive, her unnaturally high-pitched voice bringing them all back to reality.

“Good morning, class!” she said cheerfully

There was a quiet murmur among the students, and Umbridge shook her head.

“Good Morning!” she said again, this time more sternly. “I expect you to answer me when spoken to.”

A slightly louder “Good morning professor” could be heard, and though Umbridge didn’t seem too pleased, she decided to move on with the lesson.

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels - OWLs” she started. “Your previous teachers in this subject have all been quite questionable choices, however this year things will be the way they were meant to. Open your books on page 4.”

A few minutes had passed before Hermione raised her hand and said “Professor, there is nothing in here about using defensive spells.”

“Using spells?” Umbridge asked, laughing nastily

“We’re not to use magic?” Ron asked

“You will be learning defensive magic in a safe, risk-free environment”

“But”, said Harry, rather angrily, “what good would that do? If we were attacked that wouldn’t be risk-free!”

“Ha!”, laughed Umbridge, “And who exactly do you think would want to attack a helpless child such as yourself? Besides, the education you will receive will be more than enough for you to pass your OWLs, and that is after all just what school is about.” She finished with a smirk, looking rather satisfied with her speech.

(Y/N), who had sat quietly this whole time shifted slightly in her chair, and exclaimed: “It’s not though!

“Sorry?” Umbridge asked, dumbfounded

“School isn’t solely about receiving good grades! It’s about preparing the students for life, and supplying them with the tools and knowledge necessary in order to succeed and improve. If we’re not going to do that, then why, may I ask, is this a mandatory course? It’s already starting to seem rather pointless to me.”

Harry was perplexed. How his sister always managed to, 1: use her words in such a remarkable way, and 2: remain calm through the most infuriating of situations was a mystery to him, however he turned his gaze back towards Umbridge, waiting for her reply.

“Nonsense” She said. “This course is compulsory, and rightfully so!”

“How though?” Inquired (Y/N), pushing it further than she probably should have. “Can you name any situation, apart from the exam, where your teachings will be of any help to us? Or didn’t the ministry consider that?”

That was the top of the iceberg.

“DETENTION!!” shouted Umbridge. “My office, 8:30 would you be so kind, Ms Potter.”

(Y/N) flinched. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, however detention was not something she had to endure very often. That was more Harry’s thing. She sank quietly back onto her chair, and Umbridge continued with her boring, unnecessary lesson, reciting facts and procedures they had all learnt about 4 years earlier. (Y/N) could feel her brother staring, practically burning a hole in her neck, but somehow, probably thanks to Ron, he kept quiet for the rest of the class.

An hour later, class ended and none of the Gryffindor students wasted any time getting out of Umbridge’s classroom. (Y/N) threw her stuff into her brown, leather bag and dashed out of the room without making eye contact with her brother or friends.

“(Y/N/N)!” Harry shouted. “Wait up!”

He caught up with his sister on the stairs leading down to McGonagall’s classroom.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Looking up at him with an annoyed stare she said “Yes Harry! Just brilliant!” with a sarcastic tone in her voice. She kept on walking, but Harry grabbed her shoulder. A few years ago, they had been roughly the same size, but Harry had grown A LOT, and was by now almost seven inches taller. All the quidditch training had apparently paid off too, and (Y/N) knew instantly that she would never be able to escape his firm, yet gentle grip. He glanced down on her with a worried look on his face.

“I’m serious!” he said. “Stop”

She turned around and faced him. “What?” She spat at him, suddenly noticing her icy voice.

“Sorry…” (Y/N) mumbled, “she just pissed me off. I’m fine.” Her facial expression softened and she met Harry’s eyes for the first time since class ended. He let go of her shoulders, and was just about to say something when a tall ginger came running at full speed and gave (Y/N) a supportive pat on the back.

“That was bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaimed. “(Y/N), did you see the look on her face? Bloody hell, she was angrier than Malfoy after Harry beat him in his first quidditch match!”

“Yes” stated (Y/N) simply, as Hermione made her way down the stairs, “I saw…”

“Oh cheer up!” stated Ron, “an hour or two of detention isn’t the end of the world. If you ask me, it was totally worth it!”

Hermione gave him a disapproving stare as (Y/N) sadly stated, “It might not have been the cleverest thing to do” Both Harry and Hermione blinked at her with a sort of “you-don’t-say?” kind of look as she kept on speaking. “But you must admit that it’s the truth? Defence against the dark arts has never been as important as it is right now. We are all going to die before the end of the year unless we learn and improve?!”

“You’re right.” Hermione muttered, and surprisingly, she smiled slightly. “But we’ll have to talk about that later, otherwise we’ll be late for transfiguration. Come on!”

***

The rest of the day went by rather quickly, and the quartet soon found themselves in front of the fireplace in the common room. It was about 8:20 when (Y/N) stood up, grabbed a jacket, and left for Umbridge’s office.

“Good luck!” Harry said, frowning deeply, “I’ll wait for you here.”

(Y/N) turned around quickly, “Haz, you don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You need your sleep and I have no idea how long this is going to take.”

Harry gave her a sort or irritated look, to which she sighed and left without a word.

“What do you think she’ll have her do?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t know” Harry hissed, “but I’m sure she’ll tell me when she gets back...”

The remaining three looked at each other. Ron threw Harry a chocolate frog, and then - they waited…

***

*knock knock*

There was a slight clinking noise, like metal on china, followed by a repulsing “come in”. (Y/N) took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Ah!” chirped Umbridge, “Potter, sit down, will you?”

(Y/N) apprehensively made her way across the room to the chair her so-called “professor” had pointed at. She sat down and looked around nervously.

“You will be writing some sentences for me today, no” Umbridge said, as (Y/N) reached down to her bag to pick up something to write with. “no, not with your own quill. You’ll be using a rather special one of mine.” She smiled evilly, and pushed a black, pointy feather across the table.

(Y/N) grabbed it carefully and asked in a silent, trembling voice, “what should I write?”

“Oh, right! How about… ‘I must obey my superiors’?”

***

It was about three hours later, when (Y/N) slowly made her way back to the common room, red, hot blood dripping from her left hand leaving a small trail through the corridor. The pain had intensified, and was by this point almost unbearable. She took a quick detour to the girls’ bathroom, hoping to be able to clean herself up a bit before having to face her friends and brother. She had told him to go to sleep, after all, it was almost midnight by now, but she knew him all too well. The odds of him being in bed were absolutely zero.

She watched the thick, red liquid disappear down the sink and let a few tears fall, before grabbing some paper making sure no tears or blood could be seen. She had to make it through the common room up to the dormitories quickly though, since she was sure Harry would be able to tell she’d been crying, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Sure, she could just tell him, but something inside her argued against that. He had been rather angry and distressed all summer, and she knew he wasn’t feeling much better now. Harry had enough to deal with without handling her problems too.

Entering the common room, roughly four seconds had passed before her brother was by her side.

“Hey,” he said gently, “everything okay?”

She nodded and mumbled a quiet. “Yes. ‘m tired though, night Harry”

She walked the stairs up to her dorm, leaving Harry behind. He simply stood there dumbfounded. What had just happened? “Oh… okay, night (Y/N/N)”

She didn’t answer…

***

The following morning, he found her at the breakfast table, slowly digesting a tiny portion of porridge. She was wearing one of his old quidditch jumpers underneath her cloak. He knew, because it was far too big for her, and the sleeves reached down to her fingertips.

“Hey,” he said, ruffling her (Y/H/L), (Y/H/C) hair, “Feeling better?”

“Sure, “ she murmured, slowly pulling the sleeves even further down. He gave her a supportive hug.

“But come on now, “ he urged her. “You can’t be sad forever. What did she have you do?”

“Nothing…”

“(Y/N/N)!”

“Just write some sentences. It was fine, rather dull to be honest with you.” She threw the spoon into the bowl, and pushed it away. “How are you feeling? Any bad dreams?”

“Always…” he muttered, shaking his head at the milk that had splashed out on the table, “could have been worse though.”

Harry made himself some toast, as Ron and Hermione joined them in the great hall.

***

A week or so later Harry had had enough. It was in defence against the dark arts, on a rather cold Tuesday afternoon that he finally snapped, and shouted at professor Umbridge, who seemed almost too happy for a reason to give him detention.

The gang sat, yet again, around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, when Harry suddenly left and climbed through the portrait hole. He came back a few hours later, a downright furious look on his face, and walked straight up to his sister without even noticing the ghost he had stumbled through. He looked down at her smaller frame, his quidditch jumper yet again pulled over her head.

“Let me see, ” he said through gritted teeth, causing (Y/N) to look up at him, trying her best to act confused.

“Wha…”

“(Y/N) - let. me. see.” he repeated firmly, his emerald eyes penetrating the mental wall behind which she had been trying so hard to hide her troubles.

She closed her eyes and pulled her sleeve up to her elbow. The blood had naturally dried, however five heart wrenching words were etched into her still red, irritated skin.

I must obey my superiors

No one said a thing. (Y/N) was staring at the floor, not daring to meet her brother’s eyes, all while Harry felt madder than he ever had before.

Madder than when Dudley had been pushing him around the school yard.

Madder than when Malfoy had taunted him because of the dementors.

Madder than when he had found out that his aunt and uncle had lied about their parents true fate for almost 10 years.

This was his sister, and it was far from okay.

Without thinking, Harry was just about to shout at her for keeping something like that from him, when he noticed that she was crying. Soft, quiet sobs that she were clearly trying to hide. It felt as if all his anger simply washed away, and he crouched down and took her hand in his.

Harry’s hand was still covered in blood. He hadn’t had time to clean it, but had instead taken the shortest way to the common room, after realizing what had happened. Raising his right hand, he pulled her closer and felt her lean her head on his chest. They sat like that, arms wrapped around each other, for hours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

Were they okay? Not at all. Would they be? Absolutely! Because they had each other, and when it really came down to it, that was all they needed, as the Potter twins were just like two peas in a pod.

~ L

Masterlist

#harry potter #harryxsister #harry potter x twin #harry potter x sister #harry potter x sister!reader #harry x reader #harry x sister!reader #umbridge #detention #hp #hp imagine #stories #sister #siblings #twins #harry x sister

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Relighting A Flame

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: A routine day at work resurfaces unexpected feelings when you encounter the very person responsible for them.

Requested by @snitches-at-dawn : “can i get a ron fluff about bumping into him in diagon alley after years of having broken up”

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of death, grieving, break ups, angst, fluff

A/N: This will be part one of two! Thank you for the request, Liz!

(not my gif, credits to the maker)

It was a busy day, a long shift ahead of you at Amanuensis Quills. Students, both new and experienced, had swarmed the old cobblestone walkways of Diagon Alley. The bustling commotion filtered in with no intentions of stopping any time soon; it was always the busiest time of year for obvious reasons. You had your work cut out for you with a seemingly endless amount of quills to stock up for the new school year, an equally daunting amount of ink to shelve as well. To make matters worse, you had been left to run the shop by yourself for the day.

Fortunately for you, quills hadn’t been on the top of the list of priorities for most students and their parents, it certainly was never on yours. They’d much prefer to get their brooms in preparation for quidditch and even more excitingly a wand carry with them through their years of magical endeavors. That was always your favorite part.

It was a nice place to work, one with a welcoming familiarity that was very much appreciated. A job outside of the wizarding word didn’t seem quite like a good fit for you, so this was your best option. You were happy though, Flourish and Blotts was right down the walkway for you to stop in on your lunch breaks. They always had something new to appeal to your taste in literature and that was enough to give you something to look forward to each day. It was a cozy place to be in with its winding pathways and perfectly imperfect buildings, and the lanterns dotting along every one had only added to its warmth.

For the most part, you were as happy as you could be given the circumstances of your personal life. You had been accepted into the best training program to become a healer at St. Mungo’s, something you’d always wanted and now it was finally coming together. The training was rather rigorous as one would expect, but you’d always had Madame Pomfrey to help you along when you attended Hogwarts. It felt as though you had a stable footing in your education and you were right where you wanted to be.

You had your own apartment not far away, furnished exactly how you could dream of and maybe even better than you imagined. It was quaint and it was warm and it was yours. No pesky neighbors and you were free to use however much magic you’d like given everyone around there had been witches and wizards. You couldn’t ask for anything better than what you have, though maybe you could think of a few things.

It was a fairly good life to live after the wizarding war, one that was more fortunate than you could have thought to have. Though the burdens of such a historic event still weighed heavy on your heart if thought on for too long.

The small brass bell on the countertop had rung out behind you once to signal a new customer, effectively pulling you from your thoughts and grabbing your attention. It was a perfect and much needed break from the task you’d been working on for the better part of two hours, and it was one you accepted without an ounce of hesitation. You set down the cardboard box in your hands, turning to greet the person who had been responsible for ringing it. Though in that moment, it seemed as though the words had been taken from you completely and pushed out of your mind. Familiar blue eyes had met your own, eyes that had always been obstructed by strands of near unruly red hair. They belonged to someone you hadn’t seen in the better part of six years.

Your mouth hung slightly agape, your heart stilling in your chest and your surroundings fading around you.

“Hey,” Ron managed, fighting a smile because he wasn’t entirely sure if it had been appropriate in that very moment.

You swallow thickly as you try to collect yourself in your flustered state, though the heat blossoming in your cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Seconds of silence had ticked by unforgivingly, each one more agonizing than the last and you quickly began to realize you needed to say something soon or it’d just get worse.

“Hey.”

That was all you could manage, just one single word. But to be fair, how does one broach talking to someone they so desperately longed to see, someone that held so much meaning yet felt so far away?

He scratched the back of his neck as the quiet tension became increasingly more apparent, averting his gaze from you momentarily before the tips of his ears burned any hotter. It was as if he’d just met you, as if the years of endeavors at Hogwarts and countless late night kisses hadn’t ever existed. He felt ridiculous for being so timid around you, for you were not a stranger and you never will be.

“How...is there something I can help you with?”

Your question seemed to have baffled him, and he found himself scrambling to think of just what shop he had even been in currently. The mere sound of your voice had him forgetting all else and he hadn’t realized just how much he longed to hear it. Truthfully he’d been there for you; he’d plucked up the courage to do so after hearing this was where you’d been. George had told him after he had bumped into you on your way to work one morning. Of course he would tell his brother, he’d missed you too after all. But not as much as Ron had, and he would never tell you that.

Your patient but expectant look had pulled him from his daze, his cheeks flushing a pale scarlet as he stood a little straighter and smoothed his loosened tie. His grip on the strap of his bag had tightened as he cleared his throat.

“Y–Yeah…could I get a package of quills?”

The words tumbled out so pathetically as he stammered them, humiliation seeping into every fiber of his being. He knew this was a bad idea, to come and see you. He debated it for months and though maybe it’d be okay. But it was clear you didn’t want to see him; at least that’s what he’d been thinking.

You nod with a soft smile and disappear around a corner momentarily, leaving him to stand in his own regret and offering you an opportunity to release the jittery sigh you’d been holding. Every word you said had been one you over analyzed, and you felt maybe you had been too dismissive, too short with him. Maybe you had come off as though he was the very last person you wanted to see, when in reality he was the first. He’d been the first for years now and you felt you had yourself to blame for that.

Stuffing your feelings down, you reach up on your toes and snag a fresh box from its slightly dusty shelf, taking a breath before willing yourself to go back. He’s standing right where you left him, his gaze so focused on you that he looked away in an instant to pretend it’d just been coincidence. He was always so blatantly obvious. However, it was something you came to be grateful for when your arm snags the corner of the counter, sending the delicate quills flying from their box and fluttering to the ground. The tiny metallic clangs against the floor in the quiet shop were a deafening reminder of your clumsy blunder, and your cheeks burned fiercely when he had looked at you once more.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” You rush with a soft laugh, internally scolding yourself for acting so foolishly in front of him. You’d known him since you were twelve after all, so it shouldn’t have been so difficult.

Your hands shook as you gathered the soft feathers and you tried not to focus on the way you felt him staring. If you had, you just might make another mistake. He was too busy reveling at the sound of his name falling from your lips for the first time in what felt like forever, something he’d thought about more times than he could count. He was too busy dealing with the emotions cascading over him to care about your inherent clumsiness, for you’d always been that way.

You stood to your feet once everything was as it should be, your hair falling ungracefully in your face at the sudden action, and set the box down in front of him. He’d resorted to looking over every inch of the place in that moment in hopes it’d make you forget he’d been gawking.

“I’m sorry,” you say once more, much more meek than you had anticipated it to be.

“It’s okay, lo—” he cut himself short, nearly falling into old habits. He couldn’t call you that anymore. “It’s okay.”

You nod with a soft laugh, looking in his eyes for the first time since he had come in, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“What ever could you be doing with thirty quills?” You ask curiously, anything to stave off the tension, though you also wanted to know. Your smile had been returned at your teasing question.

“I’m a professor,” he says, breathing out a nervous laugh of his own. “I’ve uh…I’ve taken over for Lupin. It’s my first year teaching on my own.”

Your eyes widen a fraction at his explanation and you smile a bit brighter at him from your spot across the counter.

“That’s wonderful, Ron!” You exclaim, your hand reaching out to grab his arm in excited habit. Realization was quick to hit you, and it felt as though sparks of electricity had mingled between you, the contact leaving flushed skin in its wake. You quickly recoil your hand, the heat traveling from your cheeks down to your neck. “You’ve…you’ve always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ever since Umbridge had taken over for a bit.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, nodding his head in agreement. “That was quite awful.”

The familiar silence was soon to settle over you again, his eyes meeting yours. You’d love to know just what he was thinking, though you were uncertain if your heart could take it if you knew. What you did know was that it was a near impossible feat to look away from him, however, no matter how much you told yourself to. But a rather annoyed throat clearing had sounded and you peered just over his shoulder at the source. A growing line had formed behind him and he reluctantly spared a glance too, dread pooling in his stomach.

“I guess this is goodbye,” you say, offering a small smile.

“I guess it is,” he laughs softly, digging around in his pocket for money. He paid in exchange for his quills, trying not to think about the way your fingertips brushed against his. Or the way he wasn’t quite ready to leave just yet.

“It was nice seeing you again, Ron.”

He looks up at you, a bittersweet smile on his lips as he nodded. “You too, Y/n.”

He brought himself to look away after several moments no matter how much he didn’t want to, but the series of huffs over his shoulder were hard to ignore. He turned around and walked past the very apparent line of customers giving him a sideways glance for holding them up. You watched after him for a moment until he left, disappearing around the corner and out of view as your smile fades. You found yourself rather disappointed at the brief interaction, you wanted more time and your heart squeezed in your chest at the thought. But your attention is quickly stolen by the next customer in line.

—

The rest of the day had gone by quite differently, and the weather had clouded up seemingly to reflect your mood. Every day had been routine; you wake up, you come to work, you go home, and you do it again the next day. Any bit of heartache is easily shoved down and forgotten should there be any that boil over. It’s not everyday that the very love of your life, your best friend, comes in and singlehandedly resurfaces every one of those feelings you fought to keep at bay. The good and the bad.

The brief interaction set back six years of progress you’d made with yourself, six years of trying to live a life without him in it. That small window of time had taken that progress and diminished it to nothing. You missed him, so much so you found yourself looking out of the display windows at the front of the store all day in hopes he’d come back. You missed him and you didn’t want to, you wanted to revert back to the time you didn’t feel as though seeing him completed your day. Now you had seen him, you had talked to him, you had looked in his eyes. You’d been happy to see him and sad all the same. Now the cycle would begin again.

It had been Ron’s decision to take a break from your relationship, just under a year after the war. He had been too overcome with grief over the loss of his brother that he’d withdrawn himself from you, from everyone really. It wasn’t unlike him, and you couldn’t blame him for it either. He loved his family very dearly, and he fought fiercely to protect them. You can’t say you hadn’t expected him to respond this way, you were quite sure you would too and you had been to an extent. But not like Ron. For that, he didn’t feel as though it was fair for you, he didn’t want you to feel responsible for mending his broken pieces. He didn’t want you to feel as though you’d been ignored. You deserved better in his eyes, someone who didn’t feel like a mere shell of the person they once were. Someone who didn’t sulk around and confine himself to his room.

So he broke up with you, regretfully at that. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t forgive himself if he allowed you to feel unloved or unwanted. Because that—that would never be true.

You’d like to think that you handled it very well when he told you, it was a reason that was more than justified. There was no animosity, there were no hard feelings or resentment, not even a little. But that didn’t stop the hurt that settled deep within you. It was a feeling you felt somewhat selfish for but it remained nonetheless. It stayed and it only got worse with each day that passed, with each unanswered letter, with each visit to the Burrow to check up on him only for him to avoid your gaze and tell you softly that he was fine. It was nothing personal, yet it very much felt like it.

In time, you’d wrote to him less and less. Your visits to the beloved family home became few and far between until they had stopped altogether. It wasn’t because you didn’t care, you don’t believe you could ever stop caring for him and his family. But that very feeling was what had been hurting you the most. And any wall you had built has since crumbled unceremoniously to the ground with the days events.

With a sigh, you stacked the last of the shipment of quills and fresh ink onto their respective shelves, brushing the dust on your hands off on your jeans. The chaos of the day had finally ceased now that the sign on the door was flipped to ‘closed’, a quiet settling over the shop. You loved the week before the new school year and hated it all the same; it was endearing to see excited new students frequent Diagon Alley for the first time like you had done years ago. But the frenzy of flustered customers that almost seemed never ending was very much something you could do without.

You gave the room a once over, each package neatly organized, the floor swept and the empty shelves dusted. Perhaps you went above and beyond to distract yourself and keep from going home to simmer in your thoughts, but the darkening clouds had urged you to reconsider. You didn’t have anything particularly exciting to do that evening save for reading the book you’d bought earlier that morning. Though you didn’t think you could concentrate on the story at this point. You were tired and you were replaying it over in your mind.

Reluctantly, you switched off each lamp that dotted around the small shop, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you step outside with a soft sigh. The smell of the rain had immediately hit you, and it was a breath of fresh air compared to the smell of cardboard and ink. Pulling down the shutter over the window on the door you close it and lock it behind you, stuffing the tarnished set of keys in your pocket.

It was significantly less busy at this hour but you made it all of three steps before spotting the ever familiar head of red hair, your heart skipping a beat once more. Your brows furrow as you look up at him, nearly bumping right into him as your head tilts to the side in curiosity.

“What are you doing here?” You ask softly, hoping it hadn’t sounded too expressive of how you’d been feeling.

Ron’s cheeks flush again as he laughs, fidgeting before you as his box of quills sat tucked under his arm. “I was…I was just visiting George,” he says, pointing in the general direction of his brothers shop just down the way from you. “That’s all.”

He could have kicked himself for stumbling over his own words, you had to have thought he sounded ridiculous. He really had gone to see George as he had very frequently, but that had been no less than two hours ago. You nod your head.

“Oh,” you say quietly, offering a small smile in response. “I see.”

He hums, and you look at the rain drops splashing against the cobblestone one after another. You wanted to apparate away, to shut out the world and be in the comfort of your own home so you could unpack the day. And yet you wanted to stay, no matter how much your heart ached upon seeing him you still enjoyed his presence and felt miserable when it was gone.

“I should be going home now,” you say, risking a final glance. He appeared as though he was about to say something before you had beat him to it, and you turned away from him to head to your apartment.

“Y/n wait,” he calls after you, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You look over your shoulder, turning around fully once you see the look on his face. Your brow raises as you await his words, watching as he struggles to find them for a few passing moments. “Would you…would you want to have tea on Thursday?”

Your breath hitches as you stand there, your heart beginning to pound in your chest. The rhythmic beat rang loudly in your ears, so much so that it had to have been heard over the rain. You were quite sure the rise and fall of your chest had been painfully obvious, not to mention the heat in your cheeks that was rapidly trickling down your neck. The numerous thoughts swirled around in your mind in a whirlpool in that moment; it should have been an easy decision, an immediate yes. But the wall you built wasn’t completely destroyed, and the reluctance to get your hopes up for something good was clouding your judgement.

You knew you looked like a fish out of water as you stood before him and each wordless second that passed you by hadn’t been helping your cause. Ron was beginning to worry he overstepped, but he hadn’t said anything either.

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” you manage, exhaling a shaky breath before timidly meeting his gaze.

The look on his face is enough to make your heart burst in your chest but you bite the inside of your cheek, your eyes bouncing between his. He swallows thickly at the soft statement, nodding his head as he looks away from you. You mimic his actions and the grip on your bag tightens as you will away the tears that fought to spill.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding as if to convince himself that he believed you. “Yeah you’re probably right.”

His laugh is soft and humorless, more so to cover up the fact that his heart had dropped down to his stomach. Or the fact that he was embarrassed. He didn’t want to accept this kind of fate, he didn’t want to accept that you felt it best to be apart, even if you didn’t really. He hadn’t expected you to run into his arms, but he didn’t want you to leave.

You nod and clear your throat, the rumble of thunder providing you with an excuse to go your separate ways. With all the hesitation in the world, you lift your hand and give a half wave, unable to trust your own voice with a proper goodbye. You look at him once more, his gaze so full of what could only be longing that you couldn’t bear it.

Spinning on your heel, you try and make your leave again despite your heart cracking and the soft sigh behind you. He couldn’t see you like that. It felt wrong to leave, for the life of you, you couldn’t give yourself even a half decent reasoning for it other than to protect yourself from any more hurt. Spending the last six years without him paled in comparison to this.

“I miss you.”

You still completely at the shaky declaration, and it felt as though the breath had been stolen from your lungs. The words were gentle and you almost convinced yourself you hadn’t heard him correctly. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you peer over your shoulder. He stood there with hope, a feeling that could get him in a great deal of trouble but he can’t bring himself to care about the repercussions right now.

“What?”

His tongue swipes over his lips as he takes a deep breath, willing himself to keep talking. “You’re my best friend, and I miss you. Okay?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so aggressive and forward, but he felt he needed to say it before he didn’t have the chance to. He didn’t expect you to take him back, he didn’t even expect you to give him the time of day. But if there was one thing he could say, that would be it and he took full advantage. It was something he wanted to tell you for far too long. He watched the myriad of emotions wash over you as you face him wholly, and he braces himself for your response.

Your reasoning for leaving seemed to falter and break apart the more time that went by, the more he looked at you like that. The look that was reserved for you, though you were always unaware of that fact and Ron was far too bashful to admit it. Anyone and everyone knew that look had always just been for you. He wasn’t known for being discreet with his feelings.

One tea couldn’t hurt, it wouldn’t break you, right? Surely it would have been better than spending your day at home. His words made your heart flutter, and he spoke them with the utmost of sincerity. It would only be self sabotage to reject this offer.

“Thursday you said?”

He felt so overcome with relief that he’d laughed softly, clearing his throat to try and rid himself of the lump forming there. He almost felt as if he’d conjured up the thought, but the soft smile you were biting back was confirmation enough.

“Yeah,” he nods, his rain dampened hair flopping over his eyes. “Thursday.”

“Okay,” you say, looking up at him. Your heart was still beating wildly, the rain pelting over you softly. “And Ron?”

His brows raise as he holds your gaze. You were reluctant to say it and make yourself vulnerable again. You gulp and think better of it.

“I’ll—I’ll see you then.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @loony-loopy-lupinn @lupinsclassroom @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#ron weasley #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley x you #ron weasley fluff #ron weasley angst #ron weasley fic #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley series

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sp00kworm · 4 years

Text

White Lillies (Asa Emory/The Collector x Reader)

Pairing: Asa Emory/The Collector x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Stalking, Claustrophobia, Manipulation, Violence and Gore mention.

A/N: I like Doctor Emory Professor hours so I wrote this. It was more of an exploration of what Asa is like outside of his persona, but tell me what you think. This is me diving head long back into the slasher fandom so ENJOY. Gif is by me.

---

The burn on his chest hurt. It bubbled with searing pain in his nerves as Asa twisted again to reach for the next paper he had to read. He wasn’t usually on much teaching duty, but now the focus this year was on one of his preferred creatures. Arachnids. They had their own choice of what species but had to turn in a paper focusing on its habitat and feeding, its evolutionary adaptations included. Some had chosen interesting ones. One student had even written about the common house spider. He cracked a smile over his coffee as he read something about a scorpion. He was quick to write a zero in the corner. It wasn’t the subject given. Asa looked at the current paper and sighed through his nose as it was another paper on the Theraphosa blondi, the Giant birdeater, a Tarantula that most of his students had seen fit to write about. So far, it was better than the rest, but Asa was still awarding the highest grade to the paper about house spiders. It had amused him. It wasn’t often his students managed to make him crack a smile. The last time he had, a particularly arrogant male student had cut his arm while raving to him, and Asa had smiled as the blood drenched his new shirt. The boy deserved it more than anyone at that moment. He’d simply grinned with white teeth and sent him away to the nurse’s office, dark thoughts of what he could put into the wound crossing his mind.

Asa snatched his mind back before it could wander into such dark territory. Wounds, blood, and gore tended to lead him into a very dark path. He looked at the clock and sighed. It was almost nine o’clock at night and he still had another thirty student’s papers to mark. The Entomologist sighed at the clock before he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up and pushed his glasses into his dark hair. He was approaching forty-eight hours awake. The ache to sleep wasn’t there. He could probably go another day or two before collapsing at home into his bed. Asa tapped his pen before stretching, his mind wandering back to his latest prize. Men always made for better pieces for his art. Strong arms and flat chests. The best fights always came from the men. Something about being the prey for once made them so fun to catch. Men didn’t like being bossed around. Asa stood to refill his coffee as he remembered what he had done two nights ago. Flowers looked much better than guts. Arranged in the form of a butterfly bursting free of the man’s abdomen. It was gorgeous. He licked at his bottom lip before he looked in the small mirror and tended to his messy hair, sighing at the grease now clinging to it. He needed a shower. The coffee machine hissed as it finished dispensing his americano. He took the handle of the mug and took another sip of coffee, regretting the sheer volume of caffeine he had already consumed.

A growl from his stomach was followed by a churn. An unhappy gurgle made him cringe as he sat back down in his desk chair. The papers stared at him as he replaced the square frames of his glasses on his face. The coffee mocked him with curls of hot steam, and he relented, giving it another long drink before continuing in the red pen. His mind churned as he wrote his suggestions on the back and picked up the next paper. Grammostola rosea, the Rose Hair Tarantula. A more interesting subject. He thought on the pink soft hairs of his own specimen as he marked, quick and efficient. The pass boundary was high for this piece of work. They were final years after all. His finger twitched as he paused marking again, three more papers in, thinking about the artwork he still had sat on the bench. Asa’s left eye twitched at the corner. He wondered if he’d remembered to pin it properly. The flowers needed to be wired in correctly as not to float in the alcohol and rot away. Worry churned his gut. He couldn’t have another piece ruined. Not again. He marked three more and the worry ate at his gut again. He needed sleep. The Doctor reached for the final few papers with another gut-wrenching gurgle and finished as quickly as he could. Eleven pm. Asa stacked the papers back together and tucked them into the tray for Thursday. Finished. He looked at his watch before exiting his office, his empty coffee cup in hand.

It was late for anyone to be in the office still. Asa froze by the door to the staff room as he heard someone messing with the dishwasher. He reached into his pocket. His fingers grazed the cold handle of the pocketknife, thumbing at the runner for the blade as he knocked open the door with his hip. “Oh gosh!” You jumped out of your skin as the door opened with a snap behind you. A dark haired man glared at you from the entrance to the staff room, “I didn’t realise there would still be anyone here!” You clasped at your chest as the man looked you up and down. His lanyard was fixed with his ID badge. Doctor Asa Emory. The entomology specialist was a Tarantula fanatic, well known in the department, despite his lack of engagement with the staff get togethers. You’d seen him once, at Christmas, and even then he’d disappeared past ten o’clock. “Well, you thought wrong.” His voice rumbled, cold and on the verge of pissed off. It was far too late to still be working. His dark, black eyes were ringed with deep rings, showing nothing but sleep deprivation. His cold remark made you half-smirk, but you ignored his lingering presence as you wrestled open the drawer for the dishwasher open once more and placed your own cup inside. “Sorry about hijacking your washer, but the one in our department is broken. Last time I used it it decided to spray water all over the floor.” You smiled at the man, taking your time to take in his frame. He was bulky, reaching just the six-foot mark as he moved from the doorway, his boots moving quietly against the lino before he leaned over to place his cup away as well.

“No problem.” He grunted before he placed a capsule in the door and closed it. It hummed to life as he looked you over with his dark eyes. He pushed his hair out of his face, “You’re not in this department, are you?”

“Ah, no.” You floundered a little, “I’m…Well I just work sorting a lot of the archive stuff.” You were vague, smiling at the Doctor as he frowned, thinking if he had ever seen you before, “I work more with animal side of things.” You promised, “I used to help with the animal experiments sometimes, but never with anything related to bugs.”

“Explains a lot.” He mumbled as he nodded his head, “Asa Emory.” He introduced himself. He moved his hand in his pocket but didn’t offer you a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Asa.” You introduced yourself by name and the man nodded, once more, before heading back to the door.

“Try not to stay too late.” Asa said as he headed out of the door and into the corridor. “You too.” You offered lamely as the man disappeared down the hall, his footsteps nearly silent as he left.

Asa wondered why he didn’t recognise them. He knew everyone in his department. He was anti-social, but he made sure to knew all about the people at his workplace. He had to. The man was meticulous by nature. Sleep itched at his eyelids as he opened the door to his car. Spots swam over his eyes as he turned on the engine. His left fingers twitched before his eye followed. The artwork. He needed to check in on the little pets he had too. Water. Food. Asa looked in his rear-view window at the bag of supplies and wondered if starving his new pieces might make them more cooperative with his desires. Still, he needed to feed the insects he had. The man sighed as he reversed out of the carpark and headed towards the garage that he stored the van in. He needed that to make sure he had enough room for the trunks. As he headed down the road, he wondered how nice of a trophy your skin would make, or maybe how nice your eyes would look with butterfly wings framing the whites. Maybe he could take them out? Asa shook his head as his eyes twitched, painfully desperate for sleep.

Asa felt better as he walked in late the next day. He had a lecture at lunch, and he’d taken the liberty of having the morning off, considering he had clocked more than enough hours for the month by staying late marking. The papers were still stacked neatly where he left them. He slid his key from the door and dropped his bag on the floor next to his desk. Someone had been in. Asa reached for the pocketknife in his pocket as he stepped around his desk. A coffee was sat conspicuously on top of his desk, the lid on firmly. He reached for the cup, with his winter gloves still on, and looked at the name on the cup. Your name. You’d brought him a coffee. He took off his gloves and felt the cup between his hands. It was lukewarm. You must have purchased it for him that morning, along with a drink for yourself. He could easily reheat the drink. Asa took the lid off the drink and sniffed it curiously. Black coffee. Nothing smelt off about it. He took a sip and hoped to god that his stomach had recovered a little. He was still running on a bare minimum amount of sleep.

A knock at the door made him turn his head towards you, “No sleep again?” You asked from the door as you peered inside, “Or are you just late today?”

Dark, piercing eyes looked at you critically before he answered you, “Good morning. Thank you, for this.” He raised the paper cup.

“I figured you need it more than me.” You smiled at him, “I actually need to ask you for something.” You stepped into his office. Asa watched you as he placed down the coffee.

“And what is it?” He plucked his glasses case from his satchel and placed them on his face with a squint and a rub to his nose.

“I need your keys for the entomology storage, if that’s alright? I have some archiving and cataloguing to do in there today with your specimens.”

Asa looked at your smile and reached for his belt. He unclipped the university keys and offered them on the palm of his hand.

“Could you show me where it is?” You asked.

Asa knew this game. He watched your eyes wander before he recoiled his hand and fastened the keys back to the belt loop of his jeans, “Give me a minute. I’ll show you where it is.” He shooed you away with a flick of his fingers. Asa listened to the door click and played with the keys in his hand before he set to work, microwaving the coffee in his mug before he exited his office.

Asa exited his office with a hum, his coat off and his shirt tucked into his jeans. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing his forearms. You smiled as he took a drink of coffee and gestured his head towards the corridor. You both walked in a comfortable quiet, while you filled the space with mild small talk. Asa hummed and uttered small replies until you reached the storage room. He pulled his keys tight on the elastic runner before he opened the door with a clunk. The man gestured for you to go in. Curious, you opened the door and peered inside.

“I’ll leave it unlocked, but don’t go too far. A lot of what is in there is sensitive.” He grumbled as you nodded.

“Sure thing. Will you be in your office today?” You asked as you reached for a box. It was heavy and you grunted as you picked it up.

Asa nodded, “After two I’ll be in my office.” He gave you a wave, “Good luck.” He grunted as he disappeared down the corridor. You peered around the doorframe and sighed as you watched the man’s backside disappear around the corner. You shook the thoughts from your head as you opened the box and cringed at the pin boards full of beetle species.

It was an hour later when the door slammed shut. You didn’t pay it any mind as you sorted the documents into years. After finishing piling the documents, you looked at the clock. It was just past one o’clock. With a hum you went to the door, intending to go and eat your lunch before continuing. The handle sat still as you pushed your hand against it. It shook as you pulled and pushed. The lock was firmly in place. With a shaky sigh, you reached underneath the handle and met against a flat surface. There wasn’t a safety lock. You were stuck. You pulled it again and felt fear creep into your gut as you looked around at the massive number of pinned bugs in the room. There was a vent. It was small, in the corner of the room, humming with the air rushing through it. You took a steadying breath and looked at the documents again. Asa knew you were in here. He’d be back to check if you hadn’t been to get the keys. You nodded and went back to work, quietly trying to calm yourself as you worked.

Asa smiled as the handle shook. Good. He moved the deep cleaning signs into place and peered down the corridors before leaving you, locked in the room, upset and ready to be saved when he saw fit to unlock the door.

You looked at your watch. It was five o’clock. You were hungry and reaching a level of panic you’d never been at before. You were stuck. The lock clunked in the background and you looked up from your knees, your face wet from sniffling. A ring of keys jingled before two boots stepped inside. You looked up Asa’s legs and gave a shaky sigh of relief before standing up. Asa peered at you with one eyebrow quirked. Curious. He offered his hands to you and tried not to flinch as you grabbed his arms and pulled yourself up.

“Did you get locked in? I wondered where you had gotten to.” Asa gave you a half smile as you stood up.

“Thank god, Asa. I was so worried. I thought I was…” You jumped as the man ran the back of his hand over your cheek. He sneered at the snot and tears before pulling out a handkerchief and wiping you free of grime, “Shall we go for dinner?” He asked, out of the blue, his fingers holding your cheeks tightly, keeping you in place as he cleaned your face.

“What? Now?” You asked as Asa’s finger stroked under your eye, critical eyes watching your pupils dilate, “Uhm. Sure. Thank you.”

Asa smiled with white teeth as you agreed, “Good.”

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ais-for-alex · 3 years

Text

The Scars of Our Past: Ch3

Alrighty guys here is chapter 3 of Figure Skater Au

By the time Leo stumbled into his motel room, it felt like the bitter cold air had seeped into his very bones. The moment he passed the threshold, he let his skate bag slip from his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud. He then proceeded to fall face-first onto the bed, too exhausted to even change into a pair of sweats. His body ached from the cold and the brutal intensity of his first solo practice in Gryffindor.

Leo had been in the city for nearly a week, most of his days had been spent in group sessions where he met the other skaters also working under Madam Maxine. Today had been the first time he had worked one on one with her, honestly, it was the first time he had worked one on one with a figure skating coach at all.

Back in New Orleans, after the-

Well just after, Leo couldn’t bring himself to gear up and get back in the net but he also couldn’t bring himself to abandon the one place that soothed the hurt inside him. So instead, he stepped out onto the ice in a pair of figure skates, he damn near broke his ass the first time he tripped on the toe pick. From that day though Leo worked, he worked so hard to learn the ins and outs of the figure skating world; he worked until he could execute each jump, each spin perfectly. And so what if he was working to avoid the memories?

Leo entered his first contest as a bit of a joke, the owner of his local rink had told him to do it, so he did. Who was to think that he would actually win? And standing there in the center of the rink with people tossing flowers on the ice for him, Leo was hooked. From that point on Leo continued working, and while it still helped to block out the memories of- of that, this time he was working towards something. He spent countless hours in the rink, in dance studios, and researching a coach that would take him on. That’s how he found himself here in Gryffindor, laying face first on a musty motel bed.

Leo groaned at the soreness in his body; if this is how he felt after just his first week here, he was a bit scared to think about what the future would hold.

The only highlight of his day had been meeting them; Finn and Logan. The image of their faces seemed to have been etched under his eyelids because no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to push them away. Leo sighed and rolled onto his back, he reached down to fish his phone from his pocket and opened the search. Logan had mentioned they had been there for practice, Leo knew for a fact that they weren’t figure skaters, so that really only left one other option.

Leo’s fingers hesitated for just a moment before typing Gryffindor Lions Finn and Logan into his phone. Almost instantly, information popped up, press photos of them in their game day suits, gifs of them slamming each other into the boards after a goal. Scrolling down just a bit he clicked open the wiki article.

Finn O’Hara, age 23, was born and raised in New York and was drafted to the Gryffindor Lions in 2017. O’Hara graduated from Harvard University with a degree in English Language Arts and Creative Writing. He gained prestige playing on the Harvard Collegiate hockey team, during the duration of his time at the school. O’Hara, number 17, currently plays right wing…

The article continued into Finn’s stats, Leo scrolled down farther and clicked on Logan’s name highlighted in blue.

Logan Tremblay age 22 joined the Gryffindor Lions the following year in 2018, seeming content to continue his career alongside long-time friend and teammate Finn O’Hara. Tremblay left his hometown of Rimouski, Quebec, Canada to attend Harvard University. Upon graduating with a Business degree, Tremblay joined the NHL. Number 10, also playing right wing…

Leo clicked out of the Wiki and opened Instagram, it didn’t take long before he was scrolling through countless pictures and videos of them, and gods were they gorgeous. The way Finn handled a puck, the strength behind Logan’s slap shot. Leo’s breath hitched each time he found a picture of them shirtless his eyes roving over the strength of their muscles.

What are you even doing to yourself? Leo thought, his thumb pausing its scroll on a picture of Logan in the locker room, half-dressed and a stick between his legs taping the blade.

You told yourself never again. Have you forgotten already? That thought sent a painful stab through Leo’s heart; he threw his phone into the corner of the room disgusted with himself that he dared to even entertain the idea that he was attracted to these men.

I’ll never forget, never. Leo’s eyes drifted up to the tacky popcorn ceiling of his motel room, he stared there trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his heart as hot tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there; sniffling softly as wave after wave of hurt washed over him but eventually, Leo’s burning eyes slipped closed as he drifted into a restless sleep.

***

Leo startled awake to the sharp blaring sound of his alarm, he reached over to the nightstand to turn off the obnoxious sound only to realize his phone wasn’t there. Groaning, he vaguely remembered tossing it into the corner last night, Leo crawled out of bed cringing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling of the street clothes he slept in. Finally turning off the alarm, Leo thanked whatever miracle it was that his phone hadn’t died in the night.

Groaning again Leo made his way into the bathroom only to flinch at the sight of his red puffy face reflected back at him. He splashed himself with icy water until satisfied the redness was from the cold rather than his dried tear tracks.

Gods, you’re pathetic, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. Just stick to the plan. You’ve got this Knut. With a sigh, Leo made quick work of gathering his things to head to his morning ballet class, body still sore from practice the day before.

Leo slipped into the dance studio quietly and switched into his soft leather flats before claiming the far corner to begin stretching. This was always one of his favorite parts, the smooth methodical way he is able to loosen his body, the slight burn in his tired muscle as they began to warm, the grounding sensation of just moving in such purposeful ways. He found it soothing.

“Leo!” a posh male voice called out from the door of the studio, making Leo cringe just a bit and lean deeper into his stretch. The man quickly strode over to him and dropped to the floor to begin his own warm-up as he began chatting, “Did you see that triple axel I landed flawlessly in practice the other day?” he asked flipping his silky blond hair out of his face and shooting him a blindingly white smile.

Leo repressed a snort. If by flawless, he meant nearly fell on his ass then yes Leo had seen it. Instead, he opted to ignore the question entirely, “Good morning, Gilderoy.”

“You know if you want, I could teach you,” Gilderoy continued, “I know you haven’t been skating as long as most of us, so I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of extra practice with you.” Leo bit back the urge to say he had been skating his whole life.

“That’s ok Gil, I’m more of a solo practice kinda guy,” Leo replied instead, rolling his eyes when the other man wasn’t looking, then slid down into a full split. Leo breathed in deeply and leaned forward until his entire upper body was pressed flat to his front leg. He held it for a moment then slowly pulled his body upwards until he was bent backward over his back leg, his arms extended into the stretch.

“Leo, love, you don’t need to be self-conscious around me,” Gilderoy said in what Leo could only assume was meant to be a comforting voice, “I know it might be intimidating to learn from a World Championship finalist but I just want to help you.”

Leo bit his cheek in an attempt not to giggle at that statement, he had seen last year’s World Championship. The only reason Gilderoy had even made it on the podium was due to several skaters having to drop from the contest last minute due to injuries, and even then he only got bronze.

“Stop harassing him Gil,” another voice said just before Gilderoy let out an indignant squawk. Leo glanced up to see a tall redhead ruffling Gilderoy’s previously perfectly quaffed hair.

“Morning Leo,” he said with a wink.

“Morning Fab,” Leo grinned as he fought to keep down the image of a different redhead that wanted to take control of his thoughts. Though as he watched Fabian begin moving through his warm-ups he couldn't help but notice how very different they were. Whereas Fabian had the tall lean structure of a dancer, Finn was bulkier, his muscular build tapering down into a trim waist. Fabian’s hair burned a bright ginger with the sides shaved down short into an undercut; Finns auburn hair had looked so soft and fluffy, Leo wished he could have run his hands through it. And that right there was the biggest difference, Fabian was a friend, another skater under the guidance of his coach, but Finn… Finn made Leo’s stomach flip just to think about.

Jesus, you don’t even know the man, get your shit together. Leo’s thoughts were soon pulled away from redheads when Madam Maxine swept into the room to begin their practice.

Later, panting and sweaty from performing combination after combination, Leo switched back into his street shoes and was gathering his things when he heard his name.

“Leo!” Fabian called before plopping down next to him to change his own shoes, “Hey, so Benji and I are going to the Lions home game tomorrow, and we have a couple extra tickets if you wanna come?”

Leo looked up and blinked a bit thrown off by the offer, he hadn’t watched hockey in years. Not since… well not since it happened.

“Oh, um… I shouldn’t,” Leo stuttered out, trying to think up an excuse to decline the invitation.

“What! Why not? My brother and a couple other friends are coming too, it’ll be fun. Give you a reason to get out of your motel room that isn’t just practice.”

“That’s just it, I really should practice more. I don’t have the time to take the night off, I mean I haven’t been performing for nearly as long as y’all. I have a lot of ground to make up here.”

“Leo, babycheeks,” Fabian said dramatically, then casually wrapping his arm around Leo’s shoulders, “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before or if you are just being willfully oblivious, but you skate better than about 90% of the people here and probably about 80% of the people in the industry. Are there some things you need to work on? Sure, but that goes for literally everyone. Your lack of performing experience is not a lack of talent or skill. So with that being said come out with us, enjoy the game, make some friends, practice will always be here when you get back.”

“That’s sweet of you to say Fab, but…”

“Nope! No buts! We are kidnapping you from your room, taking you to the game and you are going to have a great time. Then you will be all ‘Oh Fabian! Thank you so much for helping me get a social life! Oh! How ever can I repay you!’” Fabian said dramatically imitating Leo with a ridiculously over the top southern accent, “Then I will be like ‘it was my pleasure, but I would accept your undying gratitude if you teach me that glorious step sequence you did in practice the other day.’”

At this point, Leo’s eye roll got lost in his laughter as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

“Besides, if for no other reason, you can just spend the evening ogling hockey players.”

At that Leo’s mind flashed back to a pair of sparkling emerald eyes staring into him and soft curls fluffing out under a snapback, reluctantly he sighed and accepted he probably wasn’t getting out of this, “Alright fine, but you’re buying me a beer.”

“I think I can swing that,” Fabian said with a laugh, “and yes, you can come too Gil.”

Gilderoy had been lingering during their conversation just close enough to listen and make himself noticeable, at the sound of his name he instantly perked up, “Oh, that’s so flattering of you to invite me,” he said as if he hadn’t been fishing for an invitation, “Of course I’ll have to call and cancel a couple of plans though, with such short notice you know.”

Fabian simply rolled his eyes, very much used to Gilderoys dramatics, “You do that, and Leo, I’ll text you what time we’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see ya then,” Leo said with a slight wave before he slipped out of the ballet studio and back out into the cold.

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

#Sweater Weather #Coast To Coast #lumosinlove #Leo knut #Finn O’Hara #logan tremblay #gilderoy lockhart #writing #hockey #figure skating #The Scars of Our Past #intrusive thoughts

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themilky-way · 4 years

Text

honey {din djarin}

gif credit: gameraboy1 on tumblr

pairing: din djarin/the mandalorian x female! reader

summary: the mandalorian never really cared for romance. he had never wanted it in his life, but some things are bound to change, right?

warnings: um nothing just fluff i think lmao

author’s note: idk how many more ppl my heart can stan bc sir pedro pascal is adorable as fuck. in my mandalorian feels too lol i miss mando

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the sky set out in front of the razor crest was changing colors with every passing minute. a dark orange red adorning its surroundings first, and then switching to a deeper hue of orange and violet. the air around the ship was strong enough to cause some turbulence, which made the small green child aboard to yelp suddenly.

the mandalorian, captain and designated owner of the crest, turned his helmet to see if it was alright, and when he determined he wasn’t hurt or in pain, he turned the cold stare his visor gave off back onto the controls in front of him. his chair, the pilot’s chair, was positioned directly ahead of the large front view window and he fingered with the buttons and screens for a while until he set a safe planet to land on.

the mandalorian heard the child giggle again, but this time it wasn’t because the ship was shaking. he heard a pair of boots tread light footsteps from behind him before stopping near the child. he looked at the crib through the corner of his eyes, the action covered by the safety of his helmet, and saw a figure near it. a shadowed hand extended to pet the baby’s head, the coos growing louder with joy. his eyes turned back to look at the scene in front of him, his hands gripping the joystick just a little tighter.

“din?” the voice behind it is faint, questioning. he doesn’t let himself look at you though, because he knows that if he just merely glances at you for half a second, he’ll drop every one of his morals. instead, all he does is force a noise from the bottom of his throat to respond.

“you should go to bed,” you suggest. in your mind, you’re laughing at how stupid the phrase had sounded. you, a regular person with only minor knowledge in martial arts, telling a mandalorian to do something? a complete and utter joke.

regardless, din knew what you meant. but words weren’t his thing; they never had been. so his eyes stayed planted straight ahead and just shook his head, muttering, “i’m fine.”

“no you’re not. i can take over for a couple hours. believe it or not, i’m more qualified in flying a ship than actual combat,” you assured, laughing slightly as you said the last part. you hoped that underneath that strong, emotionless armor he wore he was smiling. even the smallest curve of his lips would satisfy you, realizing that he was capable of feeling something, anything.

you watched as din pushed a couple buttons at the colorful panel in front of him, hearing a whirring sound when a gloved finger gave a final press to a red disk. he got up, and with a gradual pace began walking over to where his cabin dwelled, and without shifting his helmet to look at you, said, “come with me.”

it sent shivers through you; your arms, your legs, the nape of your neck, they rushed cold when the sound of his words entered your system. you looked down at the child, which had a perplexed look on its face, and reached out to you with a tiny finger. you grabbed it gently, and whispered, “i know, weird right? i’ll be right back, okay honey?” the child made a noise of approval and you shook his finger lightly before letting go, striding over to where din was.

when you got there, din was standing next to his bed with his back to you, and looking at a small shelf hung from his wall. you stood in the doorway, your hands neatly clasped together behind you, and you watched him. watched him as his hands laid rigid at his sides, his body tense like it always stood. his back, in particular, was where you believed he had the most pain, and you wished he would finally allow you to run your hands through his strained muscles to grant him some form of comfort. but the mandalorian couldn’t agree to this, regardless if he knew of your will to do it or not, for personal reasons. he respected his creed, and you respected him, so you never pushed boundaries you knew would make him uncomfortable. so once again, you pushed the idea of touching him to the back of your mind.

“stop staring,” he ordered. his voice was rough, raspy from hardly ever speaking, yet when he directed himself at you, it had a slight tinge of tenderness. it surprised you, and even more so to him.

“i’m not-yeah, um, okay, sorry,” you stuttered. heat rose to your cheeks and you scolded yourself for barely being able to talk right, but who could blame you? a mandalorian was making you blush without even realizing it.

“why am i here?”

“i need to give you something.” he turns around then, and your breath catches in your throat. you’re never used to him. the effect he seems to have on you and you wonder, deep in your mind, if he ever notices. dyn lifts his palm up then, holding up an item too small and obscure in color for you to know what it is. “come,” he says.

you start walking towards him, stopping right in front of him and close enough that he has to peer down through his helmet to see your face. “give me your hand.”

you do, too quickly for your liking, but he takes it in his gloved one lightly and rubs your palm softly with his thumb. it was instinctive to him, to touch you in such a delicate way. the action itself poured out of him without thinking, and it caught both of you off guard. how is it, that the man who belongs to one of the most merciless creeds in the galaxy, is touching me so beautifully?, you wonder. in a matter of seconds, as if he read your mind, his thumb stops moving along your skin, and places the item into your hand.

extending it with both hands and bringing it up closer for inspection, you learn that it’s a bracelet. it’s a thin band of shiny white gold, much like his armor, and it’s decorated with multiple lavender butterfly charms all around. it’s elegant, graceful, a striking contrast to his own lifestyle. wrapping it around your wrist to clasp it, you find that it fits perfectly, recognizing that he must’ve gone into a shop during one of your many stops and had it custom made.

“din...it’s so gorgeous. how did you-where did you ge-”

“let me help you,” he cuts you off suddenly. he doesn’t want you to ask him the question because he doesn’t want to answer it. he doesn’t want to admit that he doesn’t find you annoying anymore, he doesn’t find himself scurrying to hide in his cabin when you appear, he doesn’t dislike you at all now. it’s the opposite. maybe even more than that.

“yeah, please. thanks.” you turn your wrist so the clasps are exposed to him, and his fingers work quickly to hook the clips together. once he’s finished, he lets his hand linger a little on yours, hesitantly almost, and you observe him. your eyes dart from his hands to back up to his visor to try and get some sort of feeling out of him. you watch as he begins to move his pointer finger from the base of your wrist down to the very tip of your middle finger. the cold leather of his glove tickles your hand a little and you smile. a childish, innocent smile. you can’t see him, but he smiles with you. the image of you like this, giggling like the baby right inside the cockpit of his ship, makes him happier than he’s ever been.

with a sudden wave of confidence, you direct to him. “you can hold it, you know,” you voice softly, “it’s alright.”

your courage dissipates as soon as the words leave your mouth. maybe you’ve made a mistake in advising him to partake in such an intimate action. perhaps you were dreaming, this whole scene a mere conjuring of your own touch starved mind. it could also be that din didn’t even want to touch you at all, and you’ve placed him in an uncomfortable position he now has to escape from.

but, suddenly, your hand is interlocking with his. the size of his hand envelops your own, and through the leather of his glove, it sends sparks flying in every direction. he feels warm, and through the material of his mitt, you can also feel the different shapes of his callouses. this completes him, fills him to the brim with joy; with something far stronger than liking and closer to that of desire. he tightens his grip on your hand, and you reciprocate. you drop your interlocked hands down, and your free hand starts to lightly play with the fingers of his other one. you’re smiling, a dent on your cheek forming.

“what is it?” din asks, and you laugh. that sweet-like-honey, angelic laugh that makes his heart nearly stumble out of his chest.

“nothing. i just like the way your hand fits in mine.”

#the mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian #dyn jarren #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #star wars #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x reader

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longinglook · 4 years

Text

I may or may not have spent my entire Sunday binge watching all of I told sunset about you and Gaya sa pelikula and now I have so many thoughts and feelings that I need to write about them so here we go! Under a read more (if tumblr allows me to) because it’s 2k words hehe

First of all, I knew next to nothing about both shows before starting them. I had seen a couple of gifs here and there, but really had no idea what I was in for.

I started with I told sunset about you, which has 3 episodes out of 5 out. All I knew is that it was going to be beautiful and possibly sad, and it was. Everything about this show is so high quality, from the audio to the dialogue to the locations to the acting, just wow. The production is better than a lot of movies I’ve seen, and every technical aspect is perfect. I am really loving the plot so far as well, I find the childhood friendship to stubborn rivalry to grown up friendship again very relatable. I think it’s a very common experience for a lot of non straight folks to develop an extremely close bond with a same sex friend when you’re too young to realize what you’re actually feeling for them until you’re a lot older and suddely the jealousy and possessivenes all make sense.

I love the recurring themes sprinkled throughout the episodes, starting from the chinese vocabulary that expresses the core thoughts of the two main characters: rival, intimacy, secret, male protagonist, as promised. They could easily be the episode titles, or the names of imaginary sections the show could be divided into. It’s a great way to integrate metaphors and deeper meaning into the plot.

That’s how most of the communication goes in this show, deep emotions are never conveyed through words because words are scary and loud and they can’t be taken back once they’re out there. The plot advances though stares and gestures and touch and gorgeous shots of the landscape. The pace is slow with hour-long episodes that could each be a movie of their own. This worried me a bit before starting, and I have to admit that at times I struggled to stay focused, especially during scenes that set the mood but don’t do much plot-wise. This is just a personal preference, though, and in no way I see it as a flaw.

The dancing around each other the main characters do, sometimes literal, is frustrating but it determines an emotional build up that’s just starting to reach its peak. This is one of those shows that has me screaming if only they talked to each other, but the silences and unspoken words are so well directed and acted that it works. I struggle a lot with keeping in mind that they’re still in high school, they’re very young and I can’t expect them to act rationally just yet.

I was really worried about Teh possibly going the insufferable Theory-of-love-khai way, and I am still not 100% sold on him. When he started helping Oh-aew again it felt like he was just doing it to make himself feel better about the whole thing. It was frustrating to see him so possessive and jealous while also so deeply in denial about his own feelings, to the point where he had me rooting for Bas instead. He was getting better, but then he fled at the end of episode 3 and now I have no clue what’s going to happen next. About this, I really have no idea if they’re going for a happy ending or a sad one. I’m really hoping it will be good, because so far there has been barely any emotional payoff for all the repressed longing and misunderstanding the show has put us through.

I do like their dynamic a lot though, I have a weak spot for childhood friends reconnecting and an ever weaker spot for informal mentor/mentee relationships. Oh-aew asking Teh to tutor him until he passes the admission exam was an almost exact mirror of Yuri on ice Yuri begging Victor to be his coach until he retires and I loved that a lot.

Now on to the one issue I have with this show: it feels too much like an art film. It reminds me of Moonlight and Call me by your name, in the way that I wasn’t able to connect with those movies because they are too perfect. They are so beautiful and carefully crafted that I can’t fully immerse myself in them. There’s a filter that stops me from relating to the characters and constantly reminds me that this is not reality. It’s pretty, it’s extremely well done, but it feels like art. It has some quirks, some scenes that feel too artificial. One scene in particular, the one where Teh buries his head in the paper Oh-aew wrote with his coconut scented pen to sniff it, which is a direct parallel to Call me by your name, bothered me in particular. Just as it felt over-the-top and purposefully weird in the movie, so it feels in the show. It’s a way of showcasing how a confused teen deals with attraction he barely understands, it’s raw and animalistic in a way, but it’s so quirky that all it accomplishes is to remind me that I’m watching an lgbt show. It makes me wonder if a scene like this would make sense in a straight relationship because here it seems to highlight how different and primal his attraction is. If I had to pinpoint it, I’d say that I have a problem with media showcasing queerness though peculiar, purposefully awkward scenes like these instead of normal kissing and cuddling.

Overall, I can’t wait to see how this show ends and I still think it’s one of the best bls to air in 2020, if not ever. It’s refreshing to see something with a big budget used well! So far my rating is 8/10, which I know is a lot lower than what everyone else seems to think but it’s still very much subject to change! Just hoping they won’t pull a Make our days count, but I doubt they’ll go there.

And now Gaya sa pelikula. Wow. Again, I knew next to nothing about this show before watching, and I was coming from a 3 hour I told sunset about you binge watch, so the bar was pretty high.

And boy, did this show deliver. I was blown away by the depth and the humor of it. It feels like the writers had fun taking all sorts of common tropes and stereotypes just to show everyone how well they can be evolved and made complex. Two strangers who somehow find themselves sharing an apartment sounds like the start of so many fanfictions out there, but it’s so well executed and interesting that you don’t even stop to think about how weak the premises for their meeting are. It doesn’t matter and it’s not even that far-fetched, either. The sister and the neighbor are also two characters that start off as extra stereotyped, but in just a few scenes they unveil an incredible depth and backstory. It blew me away.

Each character is so realistic. Everything they do and say makes sense, they all have their reasons and their past and they react accordingly, it’s so coherent. It’s impressive how everything takes place inside the house and you barely realize it because things happen and the plot moves anyways, and the way information about external events and people is conveyed is so seamless that you don’t even notice it. In only 7 episodes (so far) they have managed to give everyone a complex background and personality through the use of objects and small details and wow don’t get me started on the music.

The soundtrack is SO GOOD. I never really pay attention to music in shows but it plays a very important role here in my opinion and, well, it’s exactly the kind of music I like listening to and ahhh I just spent 4 hours playing the first kiss song on loop so I might be biased. Right from the start in episode 1, when Karl gives in to Vlad’s music and starts dancing to it, it’s established that it’s an important element to the mood of each scene. I love how the dancing I talked about for I told sunset about you comes back here, but while I saw it as a hesitant dancing around each other there, here it’s the opposite, it’s freeing and it’s about accepting yourself. And the end of episode 6 highlights this, with the beautiful quote “You are entitled to a love that lets you dance without fear and shame.” It made me cry a looooot.

I think the development of their relationship is masterfully done. It doesn’t happen too quickly nor too slowly. Karl goes through some needed shocks that act as his wake up call. When I’m watching bl shows I care the most about them feeling real and relatable. I don’t want to feel like they were written by a straight person trying to guess what it’s like to be gay. Now I didn’t look anything up about the Gaya sa pelikula writers, but I’d be very surprised if they were straight. I can relate to both Karl and Vlad for different aspects of their stories and their worries and thoughts. There was one part in particular that hit so close that I had to take a few breaks because it hurt too much. I am a lesbian, I’ve had relationship with a girl that lasted over a year, I am out to some friends but not all. I never came out to my parents, who are both very open minded and friends with a lot of gay people and would love me just as much if I told them, and yet I can’t. It’s not just that, I am terrified by the idea of them already knowing or being able to guess. When Karl freaked out over his uncle guessing, it hit me so hard because I’ve felt the same way so many times.

Episode 7 was amazing. I hate badly written drama the most, and 99% of shows can’t come up with any good reason for drama but they have to put it in there anyways and it sucks. This was the complete opposite, I adored it and I say this as a lover of fluff. It feels right, I think it’s an issue that would come up between two people like them. They are both right and the only thing that could happen there is what actually went down. I definitely think things will be fixed by the end and I am looking forward to it, but I am very glad this issue was included because it’s so important and so true to many lgbt people’s lives.

Another aspect I absolutely adored are the multiple references to lgbt theory and language, and Vlad has some of the best lines I’ve ever heard coming from a bl. When he tells Karl not to be afraid of the word, when he explains that “you don’t look gay” isn’t a compliment, when he scolds his sister for not acknowledging the things she used to say to him by covering them up with her ally act, those are all such important and educative moments that I hope everyone listens to. I love that Vlad is not correcting some ignorant bad guy, but it’s his accepting and loving friends and family that make the mistakes, because sometimes being supportive your own way isn’t enough if you’re not actively learning from the ones you want to support.

This is a 10/10 for me right now. I can’t find anything I don’t like about it. It never feels boring, it never feels overdone, it never feels cheap or unoriginal. It went straight to the top of my favorite bls.

And now I can’t help but compare the two a bit, because yes they are two different shows but right now the relationships they portray have reached the same point: there has been a climax and now the one who is more confused about his sexuality is panicking and taking a step back. It’s a coincidence that I watched both shows on the same day when their last aired episodes end in such a similar way, but it really leads me to compare the two. I don’t want to put them one against each other or say which one did it better because that’s not the point of this, they are both two amazing and important shows who are excelling in what they’re doing.

Gaya sa pelikula is down to earth, it’s explicit and it’s straight to the point in explaining what’s going on inside each character’s head. It feels like watching real people deal with real struggles. I told sunset about you is a lot more subtle and quiet, and since we don’t really have a clear insight in the characters’ heads sometimes it’s hard to completely understand what’s going on with them. It’s a completely different way of narrating, and while Gaya sa pelikula makes me feel like I’m a part of the events, I told sunset about you feels like I’m just spectating from an outside perspective. They are different choices, but one of them ends up feeling a lot more emotional to me than the other.

To wrap it up, I highly recommend both shows and I can’t wait to see how they’ll end! They are both among the best shows of the year, both free of all those annoyingly stereotyped characters and plot points that most bls tend to overuse.

#meta #gaya sa pelikula #like in the movies #i told sunset about you #text

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

Text

It Belongs in a Museum

CHAPTER 2

Indiana Jones Crossover/Bodyguard AU Veracruz x reader

A/N: It’s here. Okay. Warnings. Mentions of many creepy crawlies: spiders, scorpions, and snakes. Some canon violence, nothing graphic. Veracruz makes an appearance at the end and is his snarky self. Umm. No sexy times, not yet.

Ezekiel: i imagined John Boyega and Reina i thought of my bestie whom i love dearly.

Gif by one @thewaythisis

The next day, they woke up before dawn, packing up the jeep before making their way out of the city and into the rainforest. They spent several hours driving, driving well through the night. They stopped only a few times in nearby villages.

They got to a point where the path was too narrow for the jeep to travel. So, they grabbed some of their gear, and began to walk slowly up the trail. They walked for about an hour before coming to a stop to make camp for the rest of the night.

They had a small fire going and were simply using sleeping bags; no tents since they were only going to be there for a few hours. Vixen didn’t bother with unraveling her bag, not wanting to deal with it in the morning, opting to instead use it as a pillow.

As they all rested, sitting down and eating energy bars, drinking water, they made light conversation. She was casually leaning on one hand as she sat, quietly nibbling on her food.

Reina, a beautiful half Puerto Rican woman, stared at her worriedly.

“Hey..uh.. Vix… not to…alarm you or anything… but uhh…. There’s a large spider on your hand,” She slowly informed staring at her hand in horror.

Vixen slowly looked down and lifted her hand up to examine the spider on her hand.

“He’s fine. Just trying to get warm. It can be really cool at night in these regions, so all he wants is warmth,” She lightly stated as she moved her hand back down and let him crawl off and sit near the fire.

“Alright. Get some rest everyone. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” Professor Jones ordered as he settled against his pack, tilting his hat over his eyes.

The others got settled in their sleeping bags and Vixen rested against her rolled up bag. Minutes later she could hear multiple snores and light breathing come from everyone else. She stared up at the sky, through the canopy, at the stars.

‘Don’t get to see much of the stars up in Chicago, never seen so many.’ She quietly thought. ‘Wonder if Veracruz likes stargazing? Hm. Doubtful. He’d probably think that to be ‘too girly.’’

Her eyes slowly drifted closed as she her thoughts began to spiral about her handsome one-night stand.

They slept undisturbed until cracks of dawn began to weave through the winding tree limbs around them. As Vixen woke up… she noticed an odd feeling on the side of her face.

“Professor Jones? A little… assistance please?” She croaked out slowly.

“Don’t move. He’s not venomous, but if he bites it won’t be pleasant,” Prof Jones cautioned as he used his rolled-up whip to move the giant spider off her face.

The spider lazily walked off and disappeared into the brush once he was away from her. She then felt the professor move his whip to brush along her back, to knock off his friends.

When she was finally cleared to get up, she brushed herself off and shuddered lightly as she wiped her face.

“Reina. Ezekiel. Time to get up, and start our trek,” Prof Jones called out waking the other two up.

As the 2 of them got up, Vixen stretched and gathered her things. She looked over at Ezekiel who was about to put on his shoes.

“Wait!” She called out, rushing over to him.

She grabbed the shoe out of his hand, and slowly turned it upside, punching the bottom of his sole a few times. After a moment, a large scorpion popped out.

“If you take anything off, be sure to check it before you put it back on. Anything and everything will crawl into it to make a home in it,” She warned as she handed him his shoe again.

“How the hell do you know that?” He asked staring at his shoe in disgust.

“Had 4 of Professor Jones classes and was his TA for a year. Trust me. You’ll pick up on a lot. So, when he talks, listen. You’ll learn so much. It might seem absolutely useless, but it can be lifesaving,” She said with a laugh as she shoveled some dirt to put out the fire that was still simmering from last night.

A few minutes past and everyone was ready to go. They began to follow Prof Jones up a winding path, through deep vegetation. Every so often he would leave a marker to note their path.

About an hour had passed and they came up to a large stone structure. It was shaped to be a doorway, but the door itself was blocked off.

“This is the structure that was seen from a plane?” Reina asked tilting her head looking at it.

“Indeed. From the looks of it, if this was indeed a temple at one point, the forest has slowly consumed it. Shrouding it in its own mystery. It’s possible that a great portion of it buried underground. We will see once we start exploring,” Prof Jones explained walking closer up to the structure.

“So, if we can’t go through it, maybe we should go above it? Reina, ya wanna go with me?” Vixen asked as she moved forward.

She dropped her pack, and grabbed her flashlight, and a handful of other supplies, stuffing them into the pockets of her pants. She stood just below the edge of the structure and took a deep breath.

She then jumped up, to grab ahold of the edge, and pulled herself up slowly. She got up there after a moment of struggle, before turning around to hold her hand down for Reina to take.

Reina after dropping her pack and grabbing similar items, looked around quickly and held up a finger, a silent ‘wait a minute.’ She walked over to the side and grabbed two long, study limbs and handed them to her one by one, before reaching up to join her.

Vixen set the limbs aside and pulled Reina up gently. Once the both of them were up they grabbed a limb and used them to gently tap for any weak spots as they walked along the top. They walked about 20feet before they reached a large gap.

Vixen looked down, moving to squat, squinting trying to see in the dark.

“There’s… something moving down there,” She quietly noted.

“Got a flare on you?” Reina asked as she squatted down with her.

Vixen nodded and reached into one of her pockets, and lit it, before tossing it down. The flare illuminated the room below and showed off the 100s of snakes that were chilling around what appeared to be an altar.

“Go ask Ezekiel if he still has that bottle of vodka on him,” Vixen requested with a grimace.

Reina made her way back to the guys, following her same footsteps back, before rejoining her a minute later.

“Alright oh brilliant one, what we about to do here?” Reina teased as she handed over the bottle.

Vixen laughed, “Not really brilliant… just uhh. A little crazy.”

She opened the bottle up and poured the bottle out both onto the center of the altar, and accidently onto some of the snakes surrounding it.

“Got any matches, hot stuff?” Vixen teased back.

Reina playfully glared at her and pulled out her book of matches from her breast pocket on her shirt. Vixen took the book and grabbed one match, quickly lighting it before dropping it down onto the altar. The vodka lit, and a path of flames formed from underneath the altar down a hallway. Several snakes were burned, but the fire scared the rest of them way, clearing the path.

“Ouch. Harsh,” Reina said with a wince.

“I feel… slightly bad about that, but it was the only way to safely clear them,” Vixen admitted with a frown.

They decided to then drop down from there, grabbing their flashlights as they began to follow the path that was illuminated by the flames.

Reina was examining the walls as they walked, “There’s art drawn on here. Do you think it’s Aztec or Incan?”

“Hard to tell to be honest. If there was writing maybe, but these walls have seen a lot of moisture, so much of the art is worn down,” Vixen replied staring at them as well.

They continued walking in silence for a time, walking down this one hallway.

“Is it me… or does it feel like we are going down at an angle?” Vixen eventually questioned, glancing down at her feet.

Reina nodded in response, “Think we should wait for the guys?”

“Nah. They are probably behind us anyway. Or about to catch up. Prof J doesn’t like snakes so hopefully none of them came back,” Vixen noted with a sigh.

“Doesn’t like snakes?” Reina asked stopping mid-step.

“Phobia. Something about being on a circus train and falling into the car that stored the snakes, when he was a teenager. Hasn’t liked them since,” Vixen answered with a small laugh.

Reina shuddered in response, and said, “I don’t blame him.”

They continued walking, quietly talking about old classes and such, when the pathway opened up. They were suddenly looking at a long winding rope bridge, and darkness all around them. They glanced up and could see an opening, but all that could be seen were trees.

“We are in a ravine. Fun. Great. Not terrifying at all,” Vixen quietly muttered looking around.

“I don’t like this. I think we should wait for the guys now,” Reina requested backing up slightly.

Vixen nodded in response, agreeing with her. It didn’t take long for Prof Jones and Ezekiel to catch up to them.

“Ladies. Have fun?” Ezekiel teased as he joined them.

Professor Jones stepped forward and scrutinized the bridge before them.

“We are going to take this one at time. Once we have a proper base setup, we will make improvements to this bridge, but until then, I don’t want any of you trekking across this alone, got it?” He ordered looking at each one of us.

The three of them nodded in response and watched with trepidation as he began walking across the bridge. There were several moments where they gasped as a board fell out from under his foot. After what felt like a lifetime, when in reality it was like 10 minutes, he made it to the other side.

“Alright! One at a time guys!” He called over to us, his voice echoing slightly.

Ezekiel goes next, muttering to himself ‘this is some dumb white people shit.’

Reina stared at the bridge worriedly and said, “I… I don’t know if I can handle going alone.”

She was wincing at every creak and groan of the bridge as Ezekiel walked.

“Listen… I’ll be right behind you. Those guys are twice our weight and made it over, we can do it too. Just move slowly, and don’t focus on anything but your feet,” Vixen tried to reassure as Ezekiel made it over.

Reina nodded her head, and slowly began to step forward. She had made it about halfway when her foot suddenly fell through a board. She screamed at the sudden drop and was clutching onto the bridge tightly, not moving.

The bridge shook some, and once it had slowed down, Vixen slowly made her way over to her.

“Don’t move Reina. I’m coming. I got you,” Vixen called out as she got closer.

Once she got up to her, she quietly stated, “Reina. I’m right here okay? I’m going to pull your foot out and then we are going to get up okay?”

Reina, after a moment, nodded. Vixen gently reached for Reina’s leg, and once she got a firm grip, slowly lifted it back up. Reina helped as much as she could, trying to move her leg and foot out of the way. Once her foot was free, they took a deep breath.

Vixen slowly stood up, and helped Reina get up, without shaking the bridge too much. Reina winced in pain, as she tried standing on her foot.

“We’ll check it out once we are over this, okay? C’mon. Lean against me and we will get out of here,” She said, wrapping one of Reina’s arms around her shoulder.

The walk was now a hobble and it took a while for them to get across the bridge but once they were, Ezekiel immediately took over for Vixen, and helped her take a seat on the ground.

Ezekiel then began to apply first aid treatment to her foot.

“You two good to stay here for a moment? There should be another path out of here. We are going to go on up ahead and see if we can find it. If you feel strong enough, catch up. If not, stay here and rest. We will be back before you know it,” Prof Jones informed them, concern lacing his features.

Vixen stared at Reina with concern before slowly following Prof Jones down the path before them.

“Not the best start to an adventure,” Prof Jones muttered.

“Could’ve been worse though?” Vixen offered with a shrug.

He gave a small chuckle as they continued on. They soon came into a large atrium and could see many paths leading from the center. They looked at each and sighed, before going to each tunnel to try and figure out where it led.

The first two were dead ends, and they marked an X in the dirt, to notate it. The third path led to a stairway that went further down. They decided that that was a path they would explore more at a later time. The last path was a long hallway that led to set of stairs that went up, but there was no door.

As they further examined it, they noticed that a section of the ceiling was made of wood. The both of them then, using whatever means necessary, began to shove at the wood. The wood wobbled several times, and it creaked and squeaked. They could hear roots snapping and dirt shifting. As the wood began to give way and opened, they could see cracks of sunlight breaking through as they were covered in dirt.

It took several more minutes, but soon they had pushed open the newly found double doors and were now staring at large statues hidden by the rainforest. They dusted themselves off as they move forward.

“This doesn’t look Incan to me professor,” Vixen stated as she moved a little closer examining the statues.

“It’s not. It’s Muisca. They were the most prominent of ancient civilizations here in Colombia. Incans did have an influence in this area, but it was not until about 13th century or so,” Prof Jones explained looking at the statues with reverence.

“Muisca? El Dorado?” She asked making the first connection that she remembered from class.

“Yes. The very same. Don’t get too excited though. I doubt we’ve stumbled upon on El Dorado. This is more likely either a center of worship, or it could be a small part of a much larger city,” He replied with a chuckle, shaking his head.

Vixen nodded in understanding and then looked around for a moment.

“How far do you think we are from where we started?” She asked looking in the direction that they came out from.

“Probably a good mile. The ravine we wound up in could be much larger than it appeared. So, we are going to have find out just how far off the path we’ve gotten. But first, let’s go get Ezekiel and Reina,” Professor Jones answered looking back down the stairs.

“No need. We are here,” Ezekiel’s voice called out as he and Reina came into the light.

Reina walked with a slight limp and had a hand on Ezekiel’s shoulder for support as they walked up the stairs.

The two of them looked at Reina with concern and were about to ask her how she was doing but she spoke before they could.

“Just an annoying scratch, no sprain yet. Vix, thanks for coming after me,” Reina explained before expressing gratitude to Vixen.

Vixen smiled at her brightly, relieved.

They took a moment to rest and relax before they made an hour-long trek back to where they began. The ravine was in fact much larger than it appeared, and they had to find a safer route around it. By the time they had reached the beginning, it was midday and painfully warm.

They began to clear as much as they could in the surrounding clearing, to safely put-up tents. Once their camp had been made, they made a game plan on what they needed to do first starting tomorrow. As they spoke, they were unaware of the eyes that watched them from afar. The guys made a plan to get the last of the gear from the jeep before the light left them.

As they left, Reina and Vixen began to setup a canopy, for them to have as a station for their gear and maps. They also got a campfire pit setup but did not light it. They eventually had settled down, sitting around the unlit campfire, telling each other more stories

Halfway through one story, Vixen heard a twig snap, and felt strange. She looked around, suspicious.

Reina stopped speaking as she noticed her behavior and slowly realized why Vixen was acting strange. The rainforest was eerily quiet.

Vixen got up and walked over to one of the bags and pulled out a machete, motioning for Reina to get behind her. They started walking back toward the structure looking everywhere. They heard a shout, followed by rapid gunfire. They dropped down as bullets rained over them.

It went on for several minutes before it stopped, and more shouting was heard. They couldn’t make out what was said, but soon enough they heard more yelling, this time from more familiar voices.

“Reina! Vixen!” Came Prof Jones and Ezekiel’s voices.

They could hear movement, sounds of several people rushing away, as the two of them came back to the base.

The two of them were shaking hard as they slowly lifted their heads up as the coast cleared. The guys checked them over as they came up to them. Reina was fine, Vixen had been grazed by a bullet on her arm. The wound was quickly cleaned and stitched afterwards.

As Ezekiel took care of her arm, Prof Jones made some phone calls.

“So, you glad you got that first aid and CPR training Zeke?” She lightly joked as she tried to calm down.

Ezekiel laughed and shook his head, “Glad I haven’t had to use it on myself. But so far, these are not terrible injuries. Let’s hope this is the worst it gets.”

She nodded in agreement as Professor Jones walked up to them, “Alright. By tomorrow morning, we will have a local unit come in and offer additional protection. You sure the both of you are okay?”

Vixen nodded and Reina, after a moment quietly said, “Yeah.”

“Alright. Let’s uhh. Eat and rest up,” He said with a tired sigh, before walking over to the designated food bag. They ate mostly in silence, and then made their way to their tents.

As night fell, Vixen felt a bit on edge, and was having a hard time relaxing long enough to fall asleep. She had almost given up when she heard Reina softly call her name. Vixen told her to come in, and as she did, she noticed Reina had her pillow and a blanket.

“Can’t sleep either,” Reina softly said. “Safety in numbers.”

Vixen nodded, feeling a wave of relief as Reina settled in next to her. As they both laid down, Vixen took a shaky breath in and tried to slow the racing of her heart. Reina, slowly reached over, and took Vixen’s hand into hers. She gave it a small squeeze, trying to give some comfort. Vixen after a moment squeezed hers back, and that’s how they eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, they woke up to the sound of Ezekiel tripping over a pan as he tried to make breakfast. They both snorted and giggled quietly, trying not to laugh too hard. Reina soon got up and made her way back over to her tent, so the both of them could get dressed and ready for the day.

Vixen ate a little bit, before going about her assigned task for the day. Ezekiel and Reina were going to go find a watering source nearby, and Prof Jones was going to wait for military unit and lead them up to us via walkie talkies. Vixen was going to go through and light up what she could in the tunnels, leading up to the bridge. Afterward, they were going to see if there were other openings to the main center, besides the bridge.

As she began to set up lights and make torches, she quietly examined the art on the walls. She could not make much out of them, but it appeared to show some form of worship, particularly to the sun, or a sun god.

It hadn’t taken her too long to get the hallway lit, so she quietly took photos of everything she saw.

As she did that, she heard Professor Jones call out to her, asking her to come out.

She made her way back over to the camp where several men with guns, in military uniform had appeared.

She could see the professor speaking to one of the men, and as she made her way over to them, she felt her brain short-circuit. It was Veracruz.

“Ah. This is one of my students, Y/N, but most call her Vixen. Vixen this is Comandante Veracruz,” Prof Jones introduced.

She blinked rapidly as she heard his title and name that confirmed she was not hallucinating. She slowly reached her hand out to shake.

“Pleasure to meet you, Comandante,” She greeted, surprised her voice didn’t crack.

“Pleasure is all mine, Vixen,” He replied with a smirk, his eyes roving over her up and down.

She noticed his gaze stop at the bandage on her arm and took note that it darkened, something akin to fury.

“Is this why we were called up here?” He asked motioning to her arm.

“Yes. Several men took position about 20ft back, and fired upon her and Reina,” Prof Jones explained quickly. “It was sheer luck that this was the only injury sustained.”

“Not necessarily. If they didn’t make themselves known, they clearly wanted to scare you off. If they wanted them dead, they would be. It is quite possible that they may come back,” Veracruz warned as he waved to his men. “I’m going to get them in their positions, I also don’t want any of you going off without an escort. I want either me or one of my men with you at all times.”

As he said that, Ezekiel and Reina had returned, and had been successful in their trip to find water. They noted where it was on the map, before Prof Jones caught them up on what was going on. Vixen tried to focus on the conversation at hand but found her gaze drifting over to Veracruz as he ordered his men.

Seeing him in his position of power was a major turn on and she was not okay. Her mind kept drifting back to their one-night stand.

Veracruz eventually joined them with three other men. Prof Jones quickly introduced him to Ezekiel and Reina.

“I am Comandante Veracruz, this is Horacio, Rene, and Tadeo. The four of us will be guarding each of you. Horacio, you will be with the professor, Rene with Ezekiel. Tadeo with Reina. Which.. leaves me with you, Vixen,” He assigned turning to each person as he said their name.

When he turned to look at her, his eyes almost dared her to protest. She didn’t. She just nodded her head, even though internally she was screaming.

“I ask that the four of you wait here, while we get ourselves setup, and do a quick perimeter check,” He said in a tone that didn’t leave room for arguing.

By the time his men were done with that, it was late in the day, and any plans to find another safer entrance to the other side of the underground temple, was halted. The three of them were mildly annoyed by it.

“We are not exploring the rainforest in the dark, most animals go hunting at this time. It’s safer to just stay nearby,” Prof Jones explained since we were all annoyed.

Vixen did a small eyeroll, before getting up and grabbing her camera. “I’m going to finish my photos, then.”

As she made her way back inside, she briefly heard Veracruz swear in Spanish before running to catch up to her.

“And just where do you think you are going?” He asked, moving to stand in front of her.

“Inside. I have work to do. I’m not letting a… babysitter get in the way of it,” She stated with narrowed eyes.

“Babysitter?” He repeated annoyance lacing his features as she moved past him.

As she made her way inside, he followed after her. She took a few more photos, and as she stopped to look at them, she failed to notice that he had crept up beside her. He took the camera out of her hand suddenly and set it on the ground away from them.

As she moved to protest and tried to reach for it, he pinned her against the wall. Her hands were trapped between their bodies as he pressed himself firmly against her.

“Babysitter? Really?” He mocked slightly, his hand reaching up to brush her hair out of her face. “I am here as a favor, princess. I could very easily, leave you to the wolves. Do not mock my authority.”

She shuddered slightly as his tone got darker. She muttered, “I’m sorry. Can I have my camera back please?”

“Hmmm. I don’t know… I quite like the position we are in. Maybe I should see just how quiet you can be?” He whispered into her ear as one of his hands ran up her side.

She shivered at the thought and stared up at him. She bit her lip at the thought. He even leaned in close, acting like he was going to kiss her.

“Then again that wouldn’t be very professional of me,” He teased as he pulled away, picking her camera back up. “Finish your photos, Princess.”

She blinked at the sudden loss, and stared at him, her jaw dropped. She closed it after a moment, took a deep breath to calm her racing thoughts. She took her camera away from him, and finished up her photos, now painfully aware of him and his presence.

She was slightly embarrassed that she would’ve willingly let him do whatever he wanted to her a moment ago. She didn’t care that his men and her team were only 20ft away from their location.

Once she was done, they started to move back to the base. He made subtle touches to her as they did. His hand would brush against hers, or he would needlessly help her step over fallen trees and limbs, pulling her close to him.

She had one thought as she rejoined the group, ‘This is going to be a long project.’

#veracruz x reader #comandante veracruz #indiana jones crossover #bodyguard au

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jayjaysocks · 4 years

Text

Listing my favorite animes (because I’m jumping on the bandwagon)

❗️⚠️ *spoilers!! (Duh)* ❗️⚠️

5. Deadman Wonderland

I was really really sad when I found out this anime got cancelled. The music was fantastic, the animation was really good, and the voice acting was incredible. Even the fucking dubbed version (I loved the voice they chose for Senji. God he was hilarious). I binged this show so fucking fast it wasn’t even funny. I loved watching the characters go through their own struggles and grow as people in the very small amount of episodes provided. There was a lot of development within the snippet that we actually saw, and I was thoroughly impressed with how well it was done. I wanted to scream or something when I found out there wouldn’t be a second season.

Sigh. Oh well. At least we got some of the manga’s masterpiece translated into a show, even if we were missing some fucking awesome characters.

4. Guilty Crown

Ugh, don’t even get me started. This anime was beautiful and I got so invested so freaking quickly. I literally go back every few years to rewatch it because I get ship starved.

Shu and Inori’s story was so beautifully done; between Shu uncovering his courage and Inori’s journey of self-discovery, I was continuously awe-struck and filled with feelings—I mean, I had never felt such raw emotion while watching something and I was completely blown away by the affect it had on me. Anger, hatred, sadness, it was all there (even for the main character lmao) and it was one of the first times I had ever felt a ship so heavily that I literally cried at the end. It was one of the very first Animes I’d ever seen and was one of the reasons I got such a taste for them. Thanks for throwing me down that rabbit hole, GC.

3. Soul Eater

This was literally the first Anime I’d ever seen, and my god I couldn’t have asked for a better starter. What I like about this one is that it’s style is so unique and different. It’s very punk and grunge, something I admired and appreciated in a genre that is normally the opposite (like Guilty Crown, for example). Also the fight scenes were badass, like holy shit just look at that gif ??? Freaking amazing.

I loved the way the show transitioned from light hearted to intense and adrenaline pumping so effortlessly. That can be said about a lot of shows, but this one went from *haha cute show* to *holy shit, like they’re actually gonna die ohmygod howaretheygoingtosurvivethis* so smoothly I was genuinely surprised. They made one of the main villains actually cool and each character had their own beautifully done arc. I loved and adored how the show solidified and expanded on the different friendships/relationships that were involved—specifically Soul and Maka’s (also, holy shit, Stein’s arc? Fucking prime, dude). There was a lot of growth in each and every friendship (CRONA!!!), and that really pushed the viewer to invest in the individual characters.

I am fucking delighted that this was my first anime, and (though the ending was a little anticlimactic) it remains one of my top favorites to this day. It set the bar pretty fucking high, and for that I am extremely greatful.

No one asked for Soul Eater: Not! It is the unspoken sin of the Soul Eater world (then again, it is called Soul Eater: Not!)

2. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

If you have been following me for a while, then you are no stranger to my love of FMAB. Some of my most popular posts are about this anime, and for good reason.

Unfortunately, I was late to the party. I actually didn’t watch this until last year, but got invested really damn quick. I have a tendency to be extremely picky about the animes that I watch/like (which is why NONE of these shows are that recent), to the point that I will literally research them before I start watching (a bad habit, do not copy me). I have an incomparably hard time finishing a show when I start, because I get bored really quickly, but this was an exception. I started watching and I just... didn’t stop. I spent a straight week watching FMAB, gobbling it up during any small amount free time I could manage, and finished it before I even knew what happened. I wasn’t picky about it, I didn’t research it, I just dove right in and gosh, I was not disappointed.

The subtle romance that was alluded throughout the entire show was super cute, the devotion the brothers had for each other was to die for, and the struggles that each person went through was more than moving. I never once found myself bored while watching, and that’s saying a lot for my adhd ass. I was invested in each and every second of that damn anime and I was never, ever left underwhelmed. That probably had to do with the fact that every. Single. Character. Had a purpose. I’m not even kidding. Every single person contributed to the big fight at the end and that alone is fucking fantastic.

Not to mention ALL the women, every female character, was a badass bitch. None of them were reduced to sex appeal or romantic subplot, they all had real feelings, real arcs and real, unadulterated badassery that I thoroughly admired and appreciated. I could watch this anime over and over again every single month and I wouldn’t get bored. Between the emotional struggle, self discovery, and personal development of each character, I promise you will not see a lack of plot or meaning here. The more you watch, the more you discover and that is not a lie. There are so many layers to its story, which only makes me wish I had watched this sooner.

There is nothing I have to offer in the ways of criticism, and for that I couldn’t be happier. Thank you, Hiromu Arakawa, for such an incredible piece of art. You deserve every bit of love that this manga/anime gets. You go girl.

1. Cowboy Bepop

Holy shit holy shit holy shit this anime is so fucking good and it has been my favorite for so damn long. I have been watching anime for years, and while some of the shows in my list have moved around, this one has yet to be bumped down from the top (and I doubt it ever will). There’s a reason it became such a cult classic.

For starters, the animation. I mean, just look at Spike and the way they animate his fighting (yes I am aware that this gif is from the movie, but that still doesn’t change my point). The sequences in the show/film have been reused in many other shows and for good reason. It’s good, incredible, actually and they make him look so badass with just a few hand movements. I was consistently impressed with the way the fight scenes were portrayed and wasn’t ever left underwhelmed or disappointed (or, for that matter, feeling like they completely over exaggerated/overcompensated the scene with huge close-ups and tons of debris and lights). I loved watching this and my heart was always pounding with every intense interaction. I didn’t feel bored during any of the episodes and always found myself laughing when they cracked a joke—pretty much all of their funny lines hit and that’s saying something, dude.

The show, while having a lighthearted surface, has a heavy meaning that you don’t see at first glance. It’s about dealing with grief and loss, and how the characters themselves accomplished that in different ways. The most prominent quote is the biggest indication of its moral “you’re gonna carry that weight”. Basically: ‘You’ve gotta pick up your baggage, because the world moves on, with or without you’. Or ‘You’re going to carry that weight whether you like it or not, because life keeps going’. When I figured out the show’s actual message, while staring at my ceiling in the long hours of the night, I almost cried. This realization brought something entirely different to the table, a new understanding of the show’s characters and overall essence.

The main characters, all of them, had depth. They had real, palpable depth, and even if you didn’t want to care you found yourself seriously interested in their lives. Each of them had relatively shitty pasts. Faye with her lost memories, Spike with Julia and the people who fucked him over, Jet with his old flame and the ISSP, Ed and her/his father... throughout the entire show we got to see how all of them dealt with these things, whether they wanted to continue on with life or not. The way they portrayed it was engaging, because the characters individual, contrasting journeys weren’t repetitive or one note. The beauty that the show holds so achinging close to its core, the layers of grief that the characters are wrapped in so delicately is almost suffocatingly real—because they’re all different. It’s something you discover when you think on the subject in a deeper light, which is another reason why I enjoy it so much. It has both a surface story and a deeper one. You can either take the show at face value or choose to understand the underlying moral.

This show inspired my very first, thoroughly fleshed out OC, and continues to inspire me to this day. It has contributed to my own personal growth, and has helped push me to continue my art and writing. It is beautifully written, beautifully executed and even though some of the episodes seem like filler, it has never disappointed me. I rewatch it all the time because there’s something so infinitely refreshing about the beauty of this anime, whether it be the way we watch the characters develop or the overall moral it portrays. This show has given us a message that is essentially timeless, it can be ‘carried’ through generation after generation, and still have the same impact—something I absolutely fucking adore.

I owe so much to this anime, including my very own artistic development. I discovered it during a really shitty time in my life and I couldn’t have asked for better timing. I will never tire of the bittersweet message or the thoroughly fucking fantastic animation. Everyone who contributed to this masterpiece deserves love, because it’s seriously fucking gold.

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