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iscbelshoward · 6 months

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( rosamund pike. cis woman. she / her. ) ⸺ 🐏 greetings, bighorns ! walking around campus, sporting her long, blonde ponytail, we’ve spotted ISOBEL HOWARD, a fourty - four year old who contributes to our thriving community as a VETERINARIAN. according to our intel, she’s been around the sanctuary for two years and what we know about her, aside from the fact that she doesn’t agree with the decision to close the gates, is that she was first brought to campus sick with fever, she’s never anywhere without her walkie, and she’s keen to join scouting missions to search for her son and ex - husband . doesn’t that make her fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate her so much, grateful for what she gives to our community.

B A S I C S

name : isobel emelie howard

age + date of birth : fourty - four, september 17th ( virgo )

gender + pronouns : cis woman, she / her

place of birth : london, united kingdom

education:

sexual + romantic orientation : bisexual + biromantic

relationship status : single, divorced

family : liam howard ( son, status unknown ), mark howard ( ex-husband, status unknown ), father ( deceased ), mother ( status unknown ), brother ( status unknown )

P H Y S I C A L A P P E A R A N C E

height : 5"7

weight : 59kg

hair colour : blonde and greying

hair style : pre-outbreak: never greying ( regularly visiting the salon for root touch-ups ), razor-sharp bob reaching just below chin. / post-outbreak: long, worn in a ponytail. she plaits it or wears it loose for sleep

eye colour : blue

clothing style : pre-outbreak: blouses, slim-fit jeans or slacks, penny loafers or boots with low heels, patterned blazers, knee-high boots and waterproof coat if she's working in weather or with large animals. / post-outbreak: full length jeans ( usually mom / wide leg ), trainers ( almost always dirty ) or a pair of work-boots ( also caked in shit ), long-sleeved tshirts to protect from weather, jackets that are a size too big

jewellery : pre-outbreak: gold!!, delicate chains, thin bangles, hoop earrings layered through multiple piercings. / post-outbreak: none, though she keeps her last mother's day gift from her son ( a silver tree of life necklace ) tucked safely in her pocket

misc. : vertical scar on her left forearm from early outbreak days gone wrong, faint stretch marks on her stomach from her pregnancy that have faded but never truly left, slight discolouration on her ears from where her helix piercings have closed over

P E R S O N A L I T Y

positive : diligent, kind, adaptable

neutral : observant, extraverted, discerning

negative : melancholic, perfectionistic, impatient

moral alignment : neutral good

skills : piano ( her mother forced her into lessons as a child ), steady hands ( having performed many a surgery in her life, isobel knows where and where not to slice and is very confident in her work ), horse-riding ( she learnt to ride as a child, and kept up the hobby as an adult )

H I S T O R Y ( trigger warnings for infidelity & illness )

isobel was born in hammersmith, london on the the 17 of september 1979. the youngest of the two howard siblings by seven years, she was an unexpected ( but happily recieved ) surprise. the child of a successful concert cellist father and accountant mother, she grew up comfortable and wanting for nothing.

school was a breeze for academically-minded isobel, and when it came time to make a decision about tertiary education, she was ambitious. she applied to all the top universities in the UK, and to the shock of her family, even a few US ivy leagues. due to her excellent grades, she had her pick of the litter when it came to acceptance time. and she chose cornell in new york.

life in america was challenging at first, especially as a lone international student. isobel kept herself busy with her degree in animal science, and eventually as she made more connections, she began to feel at home. her course was thrilling, and only solidified her desire to become a vet and one day own her own practice. working with large animals, specifically, felt like her calling. horses were her favourite patients, reminding her of the joyous times spent riding on her grandparent's farm as a girl.

isobel was studying in the library in her third year at cornell when she was approached by a man who introduced himself as mark howard. he was a few years her senior, engaged in postgraduate studies, and devastatingly handsome. the two began talking, and soon enough they were an exclusive item. isobel had dated people before but never seriously, never long enough to fall in love. with mark, she did; and it was effortless. isobel completed her honours year with flying colours, and she and mark moved into a small apartment near campus together. she began working as a veterinary technician at a local clinic. and then she fell pregnant.

liam howard came into the world bloodied, his screams a soundtrack for his mother's joyous tears and father's beaming smile. isobel put her plans for veterinary college on hold to raise liam, and mark took more shifts to support the family. for the first few years of liam's life they were a strong unit, their home filled with laughter. the couple moved to a nice two bedroom home in colorado, with a backyard large enough for a dog they named buck. but when isobel went back to work and started studying again, things began to change. isobel and mark found less and less time for each other, and a kernel of resentment grew between them for careers they had to stop and start.

liam was eight when isobel discovered mark had an affair. it was a one time thing, he told her, born of loneliness and frustration, but isobel could not get past it. she been lonely and frustrated too, and still she had not betrayed him. they divorced shortly after, agreeing to a split custody agreement for liam's benefit.

eventually, isobel did get that veterinary practice she dreamed of, and slowly her life got back on track. she began dating again, too, exploring her sexuality in a way she never dared to as a younger woman. for all his faults, mark barely bat an eye when she asked him to look after liam one friday night so she could go on a date with a woman. none of the relationships worked out for her, though not for lack of trying. she didn't lose sleep over it. she thought she had time to figure it out.

an infectious outbreak — that's what the media called it anyway, before internet shut down. military trucks rolled into town and began herding people out of their homes shortly after, but before they could reach her, isobel had driven to her ex-husband's. it was his week with liam, and there was no way in hell she'd let herself get rounded up without her child by her side.

surviving the end of the world proved tough, but even more difficult was surviving it alongside her ex-husband. the early years very nearly drove her insane, stuck in a military quarantine zone in the same house. every little thing she used to love about mark drove her insane. however as time went on, they established a truce. liam was now a gangly preteen, and presenting as a united front made parenting insurmountably easier. a unorthodox family of three, they stayed in the safety of the quarantine zone. if not for the bodies of the dead visible from the high boundary walls, they could almost imagine they were living an ordinary life.

they were eight years into the end of the world when the sickness began to spread. her veterinary skills put to work at the camp's medical station, isobel was one of the first to fall ill. it started with a sore throat and headache, and before she knew it, isobel found herself in a makeshift hospital bed, slipping in and out of consciousness. moments of waking were spent in panic, looking for the face of her son. but she was isolated, set aside with the rest of the sick. she began to rot away there, until one day when she awoke she was being carried through the ruins of the quarantine zone. the military had been overrun. her home was gone.

after what she later discovered were days, isobel came to in the university of eastern colorado's hospital. her rescuer had dragged her all the way to the nearest sign of civilisation. hooked up to an IV, the camp's medical staff rehydrated her devastated body and provided her with the care her previous home had not. it took her a week to gather the strength to walk the length of the halls, and not a day longer to convince the staff to let her outside. there was no sign of her son or ex-husband amongst the uec crowd, but still isobel refused to let herself think the worst. if she was able to make it out alive, barely breathing and unable to walk, then liam and mark surely could too.

it took isobel some time to accept the uec as her new home. being without her family, as strangely joined as they may have been, felt unnatural and foreign. the people around her were kind, if not wary, but it was in the paddocks of their farm where she first began to feel at ease. interested in proving herself ( and in turn earning some "excursion" passes outside community walls ), isobel became camp veterinarian. she spent her days on the farm, wandering between animals and mucking out stalls with the farm hands. her nights were occupied by the comms tour, where she sat with camp operators, praying to hear a call from her family on the station they'd always communicated on in the past. any hopes of venturing outside the uec with scavengers and scouts was dashed though when the coalition attacked a year into her stay. broken and frightened, the community closed their gates for good, and isobel finally felt herself losing hope in ever seeing her family again.

these days, there's a sense of defeat to isobel that wasn't present before. though she keeps herself busy with work and finds comfort in the friends she has made over the past two years, her every moment is punctuated by the fact that her son is not with her. desperate to join scouting missions and search for him herself, isobel has began to trade in evenings at the comms tower for those spent in the camp's training yard. after ten years spent protected behind walls, far from the infected, isobel is now more motivated than ever to get out from beyond them. she won't find her family by hiding.

#.　　. 　 ˚　. ｉｓｏｂｅｌ— intro #endureintro #infidelity tw #illness tw #.　　. 　 ˚　. ｉｓｏｂｅｌ .　　. 　 ˚　.

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whaleofatjme1920 · 2 years

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Hey Elise! Could you do the mercs (and Miss Pauling if you can) with a really short s/o (like 4'11 to 5'0) please? No I'm not short what are you talking about -Cherri anon

Spy, Engineer, Scout, Medic and Miss Pauling with a Short SO

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none.]

[AN: A few notes for those of you who find me from the tags and don't know me, there is a CAP OFF on how many character you can request per matchup, that number is 5. I talked about this with Cherri earlier. Second, my name is Elsie, I get bitey at the name Elise, but it's a common mistake that happens often. and last note, short gang. 5'0 represent how tall are you guys?]

Spy

I don't think he even pays your height attention, like, at all? He just doesn't care. I mean, he might be a bit more protective over you but he's a firm believer that like, your height doesn't mean anything, whatever, get to work. He's a pretty hands off guy when it comes to babying you for your height, other factors maybe! He will sometimes tease you about your height and that's about it. He likes seeing you puff up, thinks it's really cute and wants to squeeze you. But that doesn't really happen that often. Calls you "ma petit(e) chou fleur" regardless of your height though.

Engineer

He likes that you're shorter than him because he's obviously not the tallest merc. Does that bother him? Only on Tuesdays. So having a partner that's shorter than him makes him feel like a bit of a protector and he finds that really nice - because that's what Dell like to do, be a protector. He wants to take care of you and babies you just a bit? But if you tell him to lay off, he absolutely will. I just happen to think the two of you are very sweet together. Dell is really strong and has a habit of picking you up. sometimes gets you things from high shelves . He's a gentleman through and through I adore him you should too.

Scout

Oh my gods he doesn't stop with the nicknames. He does NOT stop. Jeremy is a teasing lil shit and he does NOT let you forget. Everything from "short stack", "cupcake", "tatertot", "munchkin", and "peanut". He likes seeing you get annoyed over it. Jeremy isn't the tallest of the mercs either but he definitely finds your short height ADORABLE. It makes him hyper protective of you despite the fact you could beat his ass and win four times over. Let his ego remain big please.

Medic

Also doesn't really mind, but like, he's quite teasing when he wants to be. Calls you lots of cute little nicknames in his native tongue. Ludwig is a bit possessive ergo protective by nature so that kinda plays into your relationship with him regardless. He can be a bit patronizing?? But like, it's nothing you can't handle after telling him you're not incapable or anything. He likes leaving things in high up places so you either climb up to get them or ask him. He likes feeling like he's needed, y'know? Ludwig calls you his little bird the most though.

Miss Pauling

She also doesn't mind, like at all. Height does not factor into how this woman chooses or green lights her romantic partners at all. I don't even know if she notices at first? I don't think she's that tall herself, maybe around 5'5? She wears kitten heels. She does think you're adorable though, and for a plethora of reasons outside of your height. Has a habit of calling you "bite size" because she thinks that's cute. She doesn't let anyone make any short jokes unless you're okay with them. I think Miss P is like the more laissez faire gf here.

#tf2 spy headcanon #tf2 spy x reader #tf2 spy #tf2 engineer headcanon #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 engineer #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 scout headcanon #tf2 medic headcanon #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 miss pauling x reader #tf2 miss pauling #miss pauling

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thetriggeredhappy · 2 years

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dad!spy commission featuring spy keeping his whole nose exclusively in other people’s business and being a concerned father.

(warnings for very direct alcohol and drug mention, including brief discussion of hard drugs, but unlike spy, don’t worry, this is actually a pretty fluffy story)

“Hey guys what’s up that’s cool best of luck with that catch you later!”Scout called all in a rush as he cut through the rec room at high speeds.

“Scout,” the Engineer said sternly without looking up from the cards in his hand, and Scout all but skidded to a stop in the doorway, visibly wincing. “What’s got you in such a rush today?”

“Listen, I’m kinda workin’ on somethin’ kinda important right now,” he explained, bouncing slightly on his heels, reaching up with one hand to fidget with his hat and gesturing with the bag in his hand. “Time sensitive. You know how it is.”

“How time sensitive?” Demo asked, raising an eyebrow as he tossed another Uno card onto the growing respective Uno pile.

“Real time sensitive.” Scout twisted the handle of the bag in his hand. “My niece’s birthday is comin’ up and I forgot I gotta mail her gift like, yesterday if I wanna get it there on time. Haven’t even wrapped it yet.”

“Oh?” Demo asked, blinking. “How old’s she?”

“Oh, she’s, uh, she’s eleven. Been lookin’ forward to getting this doll thing from TV that’s real popular. Told everyone at home I’d be the one getting it for her and everything, it’ll break her heart if she doesn’t get it.”

“Shoot, off you go, then,” the Engineer said, waving him along, and Scout breathed a sigh of relief, breaking into a trot, accented with the sound of rustling from the bag and a vague, distracted murmur under his breath.

A trot that of course carried him, incidentally, into an invisible chest about twenty feet down the hallway.

“Scout,” Spy tutted, shaking his head as he faded into view. “You really should know better.”

Scout righted himself, already bristling. “What? What’re you talkin’ about?” he demanded, just a bit too defensive.

“Lying, and to the poor Engineer of all people,” Spy said, feigning a tone of betrayal, a hand over where his heart theoretically was. “How could you? For shame!”

“You sayin’ I’m a liar?” Scout asked, glaring.

“Oh, to alledge and to accuse are entirely different things,” Spy said breezily, picking invisible lint off of his shirt cuff. “This is not mere hearsay, no, I have a number of reasons to know that you’re lying.”

“Oh, sure, go ahead,” Scout scoffed, trying to call his bluff, only to flinch a little bit at how much Spy immediately started smirking.

“Firstly, that the bag you are holding contains no wrapping paper, something you would need in order to wrap a gift, when I’m well aware we have no such thing already on the base, and while you’re often clumsy you clearly would have noticed this sooner. Secondly that the bag you are holding is for the general store in the town west of here, which is both of a town without a post office since three months ago when Soldier had that little incident of his and besides that further away than the town north of here whose post office is much more expansive, something you know, bringing me to my third point. You mailed the box, containing the gift for your only niece above the age of four, the brand new Malibu Barbie, three weeks ago, and ranted at dinner at length regarding the frustrations of the Postal Service for quite some time before you decided nobody was listening to you and stopped.”

Scout stared at him openly, visibly unnerved.

“The good news is, the package did reach her on time. Mia was apparently very excited about the doll.” Spy reached into his jacket and pulled out an envelope that was sealed by a number of stickers, holding it out to him. “You should check your mailbox more often, you know.”

Scout snatched up the envelope, holding it protectively to his chest. “Alright, I’m telling’ Miss P to ban you from mail duty,” he grumbled, giving the envelope a cursory once-over. “And going in the records. And just being a creep in general.”

“I’m sure it will reflect poorly on my quarterly review, but more importantly, I should point out that I’m not the one lying through my teeth,” Spy replied easily enough. “Not presently, at least. What’s really in that bag of yours?”

“A delivery from the None of Your Business Corporation,” Scout replied, trying to duck around Spy. Spy mirrored him. “Ordered it off of Get Out Of Here Before I Kick Your Teeth In Magazine. Monthly edition.”

Another step, another mirror. “I can find out now and you can earn my sympathy, or I can find out later without you being able to defend yourself when I think it’s ridiculous,” Spy warned.

“Oh, so for the first time since I’ve ever met you, you’ll suddenly be nice to me?” Scout scoffed. Another step, another mirror, and Scout groaned outright. “Look, I don’t have time for this. How about this, you know what I think?”

“I would hate to.”

“I think that the only reason you’re pestering me about this is because you know something’s up, but you can’t figure it out, and you know you’re not gonna figure it out unless I tell you, and pretending I’m boxed in a corner here is a mind game thing to get me to spill when really you don’t have a good enough hand to bluff with in the first place.”

Spy’s eyebrows rose. Scout rolled his eyes.

“So anyways, I’ll see you later,” he emphasized, feigning to one side and ducking around Spy, breaking into a run once he was past him.

Spy wanted to grit his teeth, but instead he straightened his lapels, adjusted his tie, and set to a little more digging. Mostly because Scout was absolutely right.

A cursory search of Scout’s motorcycle led only to finding out that Scout still had a problem with remembering to throw away gum wrappers and a receipt from a convenience store, not one from whatever the mystery purchase was. His locker was similarly unhelpful, and a glance through his bag only led to him deciding to go to Medic about having a talk with Scout about his energy drink intake, because good lord. How could any person drink that much liquid in one day? How had Scout not already had a heart attack?

While that was concerning, more concerning was a second thing that began occurring. Scout was starting to avoid all of them.

At first, it registered as Scout lying a lot more often to everyone, not that anyone else seemed to notice. Scout mentioning offhandedly that he had to skip movie night with Pyro and Demo that week because he had to work on a project Miss Pauling had asked him to do, when Spy knew good and well that no such project existed. Similar excuses to the Engineer, to Sniper, about a baseball game that would be happening the following day, about plans with Demo that weren’t actually happening.

And Spy realized, suddenly one day, that Scout had successfully swindled his way out of his plans for the night on four of the five days deliberately scheduled that previous week, going from nearly-daily hangouts with any of his assorted teammates to borderline isolation. And then he realized, indeed, Scout was beginning to come and go from the base with more medium-sized unmarked bags, now smart enough to put them in his backpack before he walked into the base to avoid questions.

He could hear Scout playing music in his own room, pretty frequently, so it was clear he wasn’t going out or anything besides the quick weekend excursions, all so brief that he surely didn’t spend more than ten minutes there at most. An attempted stakeout ended in failure when he was found loitering in the hallway by Soldier and manhandled into a lecture on American History that he was fairly sure wasn’t meant to include as many too-close-for-comfort aerial dogfights and mixed martial arts as Soldier’s descriptions. He attempted to enlist the Engineer’s help with interrogating Scout on the situation as he feigned concern, but instead a tangent of a tangent led to him being forced to politely listen to a story about raising chickens for about two hours.

The situation escalated suddenly one morning when Spy, entirely off his game and focusing on whether he could weasel his way around rules regarding breaking into other mercenaries’ sleeping areas, failed to notice a crucial detail that was instead noted by the Demoman.

“Lad,” Demo scoffed, leaning to look at Scout’s face, “looks like someone’s been on the Bonk and comic books before bed again, aye?”

Spy’s attention snapped to the conversation. He heard Scout laughing him off, and chanced a glance across the room. Scout rubbed self-consciously below one of his eyes, where admittedly, he did have bags, a paleness that spoke of exhaustion or illness. “Heh, yeah, didn’t sleep great,” was all he said on the situation, a significant step down from the usual oversharing that had Spy’s eyebrows knitting together.

“Had my own share of rough nights, best of luck on the field, lad,” Demo said sympathetically, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Heh, yeah,” Scout mumbled, and went back to wrapping his hands, moving much slower than usual.

A new development. Within moments, Spy had begun to formulate a number of theories on the situation.

Ockham’s razor. While it was possible that Scout had indeed simply been up late reading comic books, Spy thought it a bit too much of a coincidence, and now that he thought about it, indeed Scout had seemed a bit lethargic lately. More likely, he thought, Scout was perhaps sick, coming down with some kind of illness that meant sleep was difficult, meaning he would want to avoid the team to keep them all healthy.

But then again, that made no sense. If he was sick, there was no reason for him to get this many unmarked bags, and the duration was highly suspect. Two weeks of illness? Surely by then he would have gotten impatient and asked for Medic’s help, or at least started getting medicine from the cabinets in the Medbay rather than journeying all the way into town and spending his own money.

So sickness was unlikely.

His mind jumped to another possibility, the option that perhaps Scout was simply in an extremely bad mood, feeling upset about something happening in his life. The bags being unmarked and hidden a result of his pride, maybe, everyone on the team well aware that Scout tended to douse his feelings in snack food when he felt upset, and often Scout preferred to keep unhappiness his own problem when he thought he could work it out on his own.

But even then, usually by the time something got this bad, to last this long, he would have said something to everyone. The caginess, the lying–more than that, the avoiding everyone, avoiding the usual fun and shenanigans with the team, that didn’t fit his profile. Surely he would’ve told someone, or outright said (as had always been the case previously) that he just wasn’t feeling it and was going to do his own thing. He’d never outright lied like this. Acted so much like he had something to hide.

Something to hide. Spy felt his hackles raise as something occurred to him. Was Scout being blackmailed, perhaps? Was that what the caginess was for, the lost sleep? The lying, the dodging questions? Did someone have some kind of dirt on Scout, and this was the result of paranoia? Him trying to keep himself sheltered away from the world so nobody else could get anything incriminating on him?

No, that didn’t make sense either. The packages were still highly suspect, for one, and besides that he was pretty sure Scout didn’t actually do anything particularly unsavory that wasn’t also, recordably and daily, done by the entirety of their team. And he didn’t exactly have much free time to do anything else on top of his social life. The possibility that it was just something embarrassing that would provide a hit to his masculinity was there, but nobody really bought into that anyways. Unless it was something like an addiction problem, Spy sincerely doubted it.

Spy stopped walking suddenly, stood stock-still in the middle of the field for a good few moments.

…Was it a drinking problem, perhaps?

The unmarked bags would make sense. Alcohol, unmarked bags, standard fare. The caginess, the lying, probably exacerbated by shame or embarrassment. Avoiding people and spending time alone, also something that made sense, this self-isolation. And his quality of sleep would likely be affected, or at least he would start feeling ill.

That was when Spy really dug his heels in.

Demoman was subjected to an outright interrogation, regarding whether he’d been giving Scout alcohol or noticed any of his own missing. Demo caved, telling Spy that actually, Scout did drink sometimes, and did occasionally go overboard, but honestly, he just really didn’t like the taste of it. That he hadn’t noticed anything that weird otherwise, but to ask their other drinking buddy, Sniper, the more observant one.

Sniper’s interrogation was nearly ruined by Spy misunderstanding a few terms, but eventually he got there. Sniper admitted that they did used to drink sometimes, used to hang out, and that Scout was actually not particularly a lightweight because of all the exercise, and he eventually let it slip that Scout sometimes smoked with him. Upon further interrogation, Sniper clarified that he meant weed, not cigarettes.

Scout drank alcohol, occasionally heavily. Eventually, he started smoking weed, probably when alcohol didn’t give enough of a kick for him, impulsive as he was, prone to rushing through things.

God, who knew what Scout was even doing, then? Maybe he wasn’t even smoking marijuana anymore, maybe he’d found something else that he was now hooked on. Spy knew plenty of celebrities were alleged to be involved in drugs, and in his own experience in mercenary work they were extremely common, but he figured, this far out from civilization and with so little contact to other people, he wouldn’t have to worry about it as much.

He found himself marching directly to where Scout’s room was and knocking hard against the door, absolutely fuming. Scout answered the door looking a little confused, a little rattled.

“Scout, can we have a word?” Spy asked, tone a perfect, even level.

“Uh,” Scout said, and adjusted so his shoulder was wedged flat to the doorframe, the door now open exactly wide enough to fit his face, blocking a view into the room. “Yeah, sure, what’s up?”

“I intend to find out exactly what it is that you’ve been hiding from the rest of the team,” Spy said, allowing that level tone to slip into a more vaguely threatening one.

Scout’s eyes widened a fraction. Flicked across Spy’s face. “Uh. I dunno what you’re talking about,” he finally said carefully.

“Scout. Do you take me for some kind of idiot?” Spy asked, tone dangerous now. “I know you’ve been hiding something from the team. A rather large something.”

“Uh,” Scout said, blinking, but the tension in his shoulders said it all. “I’ve got no idea what’s, uh, what’s the problem here, what you’re–”

“Don’t lie,” Spy warned. “I believe we both already know what I’m talking about, don’t I? You’re not getting out of this conversation that easily. Tell me, right now. What–”

Scout suddenly startled, suddenly scrambled in a movement Spy wasn’t expecting–he knew Scout was the type to bolt, but he hadn’t seemed prepared to do so, and yet he was moving so quickly, to–

“Rocket, no!” Scout hiss-shouted, and something darted past Spy’s legs, and he repeated it louder, “Rocket, no, shit, fuck! Get back here! Spy, c’mon!”

“Que–” was all Spy managed before he was yanked into motion, forced to move or be pulled to fall flat on his face. Out at the end of the hall and disappearing around the corner, something small and furry. “Is–is that a dog?”

“Yes it’s a dog now come help me catch him, asshole!” Scout said firmly.

It was another full hallway and another turned corner before Spy even got his feet under him enough to start processing what was even happening, and then Scout stopped, pointed.

“Look, he went in there!” he declared, and bolted up to the door, pulled it closed. “Okay. Hell yeah. Got him. Okay.”

Spy blinked rapidly. “You. There’s a dog. You have a dog. When did you get a dog?” Spy asked, entirely befuddled.

Scout looked at him, confused. “Like three weeks ago. Is–you were just yelling at me, why are you acting confused? What’s the game here?”

Spy shook off his confusion, catching up and moving behind Scout as he carefully opened the door, watching his feet so as to not let the dog escape again.

It wasn’t trying to, instead sitting squarely in the seat of one of Spy’s armchairs, there in the smoking room like it owned the place, tail wagging a hundred miles an hour as they walked in, looking completely pleased with itself. It was shaggy in most parts of its fur, clearly some kind of mutt, but it seemed predominantly to be some kind of terrier, perhaps a bull terrier, and its collar jingled lightly with how it full-body wiggled in place under the onslaught of energy it seemed to have.

“You’re in trouble now, little guy!” Scout scolded, and Rocket sank from sitting to laying, chin tucked against the fabric of the chair, giving Scout a tearful look or remorse despite the still-wagging tail. “Nuh-uh, no tryin’ to look cute! You know better than to run off on me! Bad Rocket!”

“His name is Rocket,” Spy deadpanned.

“I mean, it is now,” Scout said, and approached the dog, who hopped off the armchair and instead started scampering around his feet, tail still wagging despite Scout’s still scolding body language. “Found ‘im in an alley in town. Little guy was starving. Pretty sure he had to belong to someone, he’s real polite, doesn’t bark or nothin’, fixed and all that. Been tryin’ to find his owner, but, nothin’.”

Spy stared, still befuddled, at the animal that scampered over to him, tail and head drooping as it approached, starting to sniff at his shoes curiously, clearly a little skittish. “You can’t have pets,” Spy said, “it is a company policy. Only birds have been allowed, and only for our Medic.”

Scout fidgeted with his hands a bit, and finally looked at Spy, competing for first place in the puppy-dog-eyes competition just then. “I know, but, c’mon! He’s super well behaved and quiet and everything, I’ve been feeding him all on my own and taking care of ‘im, he’s like, practically trained! Look, hey, Rocket, sit!”

The dog scampered over, scrambling to sit at Scout’s feet where he was pointing, tail wagging at a hundred miles an hour.

“Good boy!” Scout praised, kneeling to pet the dog all across its’ head despite its’ attempts at licking his hands. “See? He’s a really good dog, aren’t you, Rocket?”

Spy’s eyebrows furrowed and he crossed his arms. “Scout. I’m not the one you need to bargain with on this, Miss Pauling is. There’s nothing I can do either way.”

Scout looked back up at him, and the dog followed suit. Two pleading looks now aimed at him. “C’mon, you totally can! If you put in a good word for me, y’know, help convince her–”

“You cannot keep it,” Spy said firmly. He was an international agent of espionage. He was trained to withstand torture. What, was he supposed to be swayed by the fact that Scout’s expression fell, the way he tightened his arms around the dog, which was back to trying to lick every square inch of his face?

Because he wasn’t. Absolutely not.

“C’mon,” Scout said, so genuinely in that moment. “Please?”

No. Absolutely not. No way.

“And his name is Rocket,” Scout said, the dog running a circle around the rec room and trying to greet everyone at once, a roar of laughter rising as it almost bowled over Soldier and Pyro in its excitement, “he’s the best, he’s like basically trained already, he can be our team mascot, isn’t he the best?!”

Miss Pauling’s nails ticked against the clipboard in her hand in a nervous rhythm off to one side of the group. Spy’s grip on the space above his elbows tightened as the performance continued. “Are you sure this isn’t going to backfire?” she asked carefully, shooting a glance at Spy.

“Sure enough to sign off on it being my own dog, aren’t I?” he deadpanned, a twitch in one eye.

The dog darted between Heavy’s legs and sent the giant crashing down to a cheer from the room, and Spy sat with the knowledge that if nothing else, Scout’s mother had at least never caved to letting him get a pet. As per usual, she continued to prove herself the more competent parent.

“If I ever see that beast in my smoking room again, it’s going back into a box on the roadside!” Spy called, and Scout laughed as though he wasn’t serious, perhaps the most insulting thing of all.

#dad!spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #que?#shut up me #my fanfiction #aka spy being the father who goes 'ARE YOU SMOKING THE DEVILS LETTUCE SON'

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lidoshka · 3 years

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I resized the Gerudo three times and I didn’t even come close to the right size comparison between Link and them.

I’ve been reading a lot about Gerudo!Twilight gerudo!/link and ended up drawing different clothes for him and the Gerudo women. =D

So here’s the thing: I like some parts of the Gerudo design... like puffy pants? I love that. long fluffy hair so abundant it makes it difficult to hide it all under a veil? awesome! clothes that let you see their bellies? dude, if I had those abs I’d be showing them off all the time, to everyone, friends family strangers, everyone look at my hard earned abs!

Tragically, I’m deeply aware Nintendo didn’t design them with those thoughts in mind so...

I mean, if the high heels and the metal armor over bare skin weren’t bad enough, then there’s the veil that covers the mouth... but not the nose??? huh??? why???

So I removed the metal armor that was in direct contact with skin, gave them long sleeves, longer scarves and veils to protect their hair, also boots and covered their bellies.

the ladies with the red scarves are something I’d see on soldiers or scouts, while the lady in purple might be a guard who stays at the settlement and doesn’t require much protection. Oh, and link is there too, under all those robes :P

#mis trazos #linked universe #fanfiction begets fanart #legend of zelda #Link #animal whisperer is also the new gerudo king #cute farmboy #gerudo!twilight #about the gerudo clothes #I only made a 20 mins research and yet I did a better job on desert clothes than Nintendo did

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Was Ich Liebe (P.1)

Title: Was Ich Liebe (Part One) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark!Tony Stark. Tony becomes enamored with a stripper at a club his hedonistic friend Thor owns. A casual sexual relationship quickly becomes possessive and the reader sees more of the underground mafia life than she would like to. The cherry on top is that Tony is married and so is she. Him to a woman who has no intention of losing her throne at any cost and the reader to a deadbeat alcoholic. Feeling trapped by both her previous life and the suffocating hold Tony is trying to put on her, the reader steals away in the night, which is not going to go over well. Words: 4,301 Warnings (for whole fic, more may be added): Dub-con, smut, infidelity, stripping, vaginal fingering, public sex, possessive behavior, angst, degradation kink, violence, physical abuse, domestic violence, language, drug use, alcoholism, death Author’s Note: I did not have the ability to do a one shot. As usual, this is 18+.

Intro || Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Your legs and core were burning as you ended your routine to “Walk” by Pantera. You slowly slid down the pole as it was coming to an end, ending in a deep squat at the end, ass towards the crowd.

Turning back against the lights shining at you, you crawled on your knees seductively taking bills being held out and swiping up ones that had been tossed.

The tips were good tonight. You swiped your top from the ground you had thrown off halfway through much to the pleasure of the crowd, showing off your glow in the dark skull hand pasties. Happy autumn. And you walked off, holding your cash and looking forward to switching back to six inch heels to walk around now that your set was over.

Fixing your winged eyeliner, you spotted Thor coming in through the door to the dressing room. Everyone straightened up at his presence. He came straight over to you though. “Perle room, Y/N.”

That was a private customer room. It was easier being on the stage because you were blinded from the crowd for a lot of it with the lights. One on one was harder to dissociate since they were the only other soul in the room.

“You’re picking the songs. He paid for three.”

That was always a gamble; depending on what genre the customer liked, it could go up or down hill really quick.

Thor leaned in close and whispered in your ear, “And he’s a friend of mine, so behave, you hear? Make sure he leaves satisfied. He loves ass so grind, yeah?”

A friend of his was shady no doubt. But you nodded, making eye contact through the mirror. Thor smirked before planting a kiss on your temple.

“Good set by the way.”

“Thank you,” you said as he straightened up and turned to leave you.

Shit. That meant you needed to change. Which is why you always brought an extra set of lingerie. You went to your locker and pulled out the black set.

<><><>

Since it was going to be more intimate, you chose “Was Ich Liebe” by Rammstein to start. It would allow a lot of grinding.

When you walked in, he was already sitting on the opposite of the dark room in the black light. Even in the darkness, you recognized the man. It was not hard to do so with his high standing in the mob.

Tony Stark.

He was to be treated like a high-ranking customer and you were doing to do that.

You started on the pole, circling slowly before climbing and hooking your leg to spin controlled around.

Sliding down, you crawled on all fours to him, pulling yourself up by holding onto his knees that were already spread in anticipation of you. Turning around you ground your ass into his pelvis. Leaning back your face brushed his.

“What’s your name?” he breathed into your ear. You told him your fake name and his lips tugged up at the corner briefly. “You’re real name, sweetheart.”

“That is my real name.”

He chuckled, his nose nuzzling into your neck. “If you insist so, sweetheart.”

You fell into the music, alternating between him and the pole. Your second song started, “Problem” by Natalia Kills.

You moved back to his lap. His hands ran up and down your thighs as you grinded. Which was okay until his fingers slipped past your thong, cupping your sex as you ground into him. You lost rhythm with your lap dance and his breath was hot at your ear. “Just like that, keep going. You are doing beautifully.”

Men getting handsy in the private rooms was not unusual. Especially not ones who paid like he had but you workers knew to dispel it as much as possible. Do not let them get too bold.

You had to be crafty about how you maneuvered out of the situation though. He was Thor’s friend and you knew he was powerful. You resumed grinding, and his nose brushed your neck, inhaling deeply. His fingers threatened to push in and you reacted quickly. You moved out of his lap to dip down in your dancing, forcing his hand away. You were still doing what Thor wanted, giving him a good show. Your hands gripping your ankles, you moved your ass in rhythm with the song.

Tony was not going to be deterred though. Gripping your hips firmly, he pulled you back into his lap with a rough tug. He forced your legs open again and his hand was snaking past your panties again.

As the song sang about claiming your body, Tony’s fingers slid into your pussy and you jumped away from his embrace. You stood a couple feet away, holding your arms tightly around yourself. He was frozen, looking at you expectantly.

“You… you’re not supposed to touch us. It’s against the rules,” you told him, keeping the tremor out of your voice miraculously. You knew what trouble could come from denying a man like him.

Tony brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them off slowly, tasting you. Your heart was hammering with the intense stare off he was having with you. He was handsome as all hell, but you knew he was the type of dangerous you should not have in your life.

He finally shrugged. “Noted. My apologies. I’ll behave, scouts honor.”

He beckoned you back with two fingers.

You swallowed your unease and came back, resuming. He kept his hands off of you like he vowed he was going to. Still, you spent a lot of the time on the pole during your final song “Inertia Creeps” by Massive Attack.

At the end, Tony stood up and he came up to you at the pole. You looked up at him with curiosity; men usually did not move when you left the room.

He smiled devilishly down at you and held out a couple of folded hundreds. He was giving you $200 in tips? Your eyes widened and he forced them into your hand.

Before you could react, he leaned in and caught your mouth. His lips were soft but his force was rough. You were dazed when he pulled away. He winked at you.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon, sweetheart. Thanks for the sweet dreams.”

<><><>

Next weekend you were called to the Perle room again. And again, you found Tony there. He chose the set list this time and had you starting out with “Dissolved Girl” by Massive Attack. He had enjoyed the other song so much, he wanted to see you perform more of the album in front of him.

“I’ve tried to stop thinking about you. It hasn’t worked.”

His hands came up, caressing your breasts. You turned your head and his hands loosened. He laughed, nipping at your ear.

“Right, right. The rules. Darling, do you know how hard it is to remember those around you?”

“I’ve heard that before. It doesn’t make the rules any less real,” you returned, pulling away from his embrace and sashaying back to the pole.

He was watching you hungrily as you worked yourself around the pole. There was a storm brewing in his eyes.

“How would you like to make some money outside this club?”

Dipping low, you met his eyes and saw he was serious.

“If you’re asking me to fuck you, I’m married.”

That was information you rarely gave out. But Tony seemed the type of man you needed to put a hard wall up with.

Tony gave you a wide grin. “No, not fucking. Just fun. I wanna have a night out. I just want company.”

Some of the girls did escort work like that. And since it was outside the club you got to keep everything, no tax was taking off the top. And your electricity bill was going to be higher next month since winter was coming.

You did not answer him immediately, rolling the idea around. Knees spread on the ground, dancing, you met his eyes again. He was still waiting for an answer.

Getting back up sultrily, you came to sit back in his lap. He hummed in approval as you said, “Sure. Where we going?”

<><><>

“Going to whore yourself out again?” Michael asked, his words already slurring.

You were wearing a peacoat coat over your dress but he could still it was short. He disapproved of you stripping but he always backtracked when you were able to pay the bills. And more so, bring him his favorite bottle of liquor every other night. Especially since he rarely brought any money in himself. You felt an obligation to him since you had been high school sweethearts.

“For your information, no. I’m going out with friends.”

A white lie.

“What friends? Your co-hooker friends? Glad you keep such great company. A bunch of pathetic bitches just like you, starving for validation…”

“No. Well-paying friends who want my company,” you spat without thinking, angry he was always putting you down.

He got up out of his chair and you moved quickly. The last time he had laid hands on you, you had to take a week off of work and Thor had been pissed.

Your hand was on the door handle, and you had it opened quick. He stumbled and that gave you enough time to get the door closed and move down the hallway. The elevator was not an option cause it was too slow and you took the stairwell, not missing him yelling expletives at you.

He would be passed out well before you got home.

<><><>

Your dress clung tight to your body. You looked around the restaurant, worrying that you were going to be stood up. You had been here for twenty minutes and had ordered a glass of wine.

You were halfway through it without a sign of him. This place was five star, and you did not want to do a walk of shame.

Thankfully for you, Tony sauntered in five minutes later and he slid into the booth across from you, adjusting his jacket as he did. Leaning back against the booth, he threw his arm across the back of it, relaxing back, looking at you. You had chosen the seat across the table.

“You’re punctual. That’s new.”

“Was I not supposed to be?”

“Darling. I never am. Next time let’s ride together. Reservations for 7? I’m here at 7:30 at best and they know to keep the table for me.”

The first date had not even started, and he was already talking about the next.

He suddenly noticed you had a chair and as the waiter approached. He gestured at you and said, “What’s this chair doing here? Is there supposed to be more people than can fit on this booth?”

“Uh, no, Mr. Stark. It was just put there in case someone wanted it—"

“Do you want it?” Tony asked you, interrupting.

You knew the answer he wanted. Calmly, you stood up and moved around the table to sit right up next to him. His hand lying across the back of the booth caressed your shoulder.

“No, here is fine,” you said.

“That’s what I thought. Now, let’s get you something delectable to eat to match how I know you taste. Top notch deserves the same in return.”

He winked salaciously and you blushed. This off-limits escorting was not going to last long; you could sense that. He was not a man that would be satiated with just a taste. He wanted the whole course.

And that whole course was you spread out for him whenever he so pleased.

<><><>

On the fourth date, he took the plunge.

His town car took the opposite way from your turn, and you looked at him.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere where we can enjoy each other fully.”

You opened your mouth, but Tony held a finger up to your lips, winking. There was a sinister feeling behind that wink, and you closed your lips. He smiled in approval, “You’re so well behaved, sweetheart. You’re going to be a lot of fun.”

At the hotel room, legs spread wide, Tony’s large hands held you at your waist as he drove up into you hard and quick. He was not a gentle lover.

He rocked forward quickly and in one fell swoop had managed to maneuver you to pull you with him and you ended up on top. Lining himself back up with your entrance, he plummeted back in, resuming his unforgiving pace. You cried as he held your arms tight, keeping you in place to use like his own personal toy. You were an object to him that he wanted to possess.

<><><>

Leg crossed over the other, relaxing back in the armchair, Tony demanded, “What’s her name?”

Thor told Tony your fake name without missing a beat as he worked across the desk. Tony had come here for answers and Thor would be hard pressed to give them away completely.

Tony stared at him across the table unimpressed and Thor stopped typing, noticing. He simpered, “Tony, it’s for her safety.”

“Are you afraid for her? Because of me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because her husband is a real piece of work.” He noticed the look on shocked Tony’s face, and he said, “Yeah, she wasn’t lying about that. I’m assuming she told you she was married. He might be a deadbeat, but he knows how to load a punch. If he found out she was doing more than dancing, I would be afraid for her. He’s already made her miss a couple weeks of work because of his Rambo fists when he’s gotten riled up just about the dancing. Which makes no sense to me because he barely brings money in, and she is essentially the sole breadwinner.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow. “And you want her to stay with that?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Seems like you did.”

Thor snorted, “No, I just know what lengths you are willing to go to get your way. And I’m not sure I want you taking this on. As your friend. It’s advice.”

“It won’t be hard. I want her, so it’ll be worth the effort,” Tony said.

<><><>

“It was nice,” you told Tony as you sat in the back of his town car when he asked you how you had enjoyed the night.

He had taken you to a high-end seafood restaurant on a large boat docked at the marina. You meant what you said; it was delicious.

“I thought you would like it,” Tony stated, scooting closer and an arm slipped around your shoulder, holding you closer.

He was staring into your eyes, and you smelled the bourbon on his breath. You no doubt reeked of alcohol yourself. There was something lurking beneath his gaze though. And you soon found out what.

“Y/N,” Tony murmured. You froze and he smiled at your shock. His fingers trailed up your arm and came to cup you under the chin. “That’s such a lovely name.”

Unable to stop yourself, you asked, “How…?”

“Money talks,” Tony informed you as his hand spread to hold you beneath the jaw, fingers trailing behind your ear. You tried to pull away but his arm around you held tight, stopping your movement. He smirked briefly, “I’m not here to hurt you, darling. Don’t ever think that. I just simply adore you. I wanted to know about you. I want to take this further.”

“Further than just the bed?”

“Yes. I want you entirely.”

His firm tone was sincere. What had you gotten yourself into?

He pressed the button, and the partition went up between the two of you and the front seat. His hand left your neck to snake up your dress. “I want to call you by your real name when I take you this time.” He kissed you roughly and his lips brushed yours as he vowed, “I’ll have you whenever and wherever.”

<><><>

Months later, you awoke in the king bed in the mountain top suite. Sneaking a peek at the bedside clock, you saw it was almost four in the morning. You needed to leave. Tossing a look at Tony, seeing he was still sleeping, you tried to unravel yourself from his embrace as gently as you could.

But it was futile.

Tony yanked you back to him as you tried to crawl out of the bed. You protested lightly and he shushed you by roughly rolling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours, growing in intensity as he woke from slumber. His leg wrapped around you, trapping you against him. His cock was already growing hard again after the short nap the two of you had taken after the last tussle in the sheets.

You tried to make space as you said, “You know if I’m going to get home the time I said I was going to, I have to leave now.”

You were hours from home. He had taken you up into the mountains for the last couple of days. You had said you were going on a work trip with your coworkers per your managers request to dance at a new club. Michael would never know. That is unless you came home at the wrong time; then he would start to get suspicious.

The last couple of days had been really nice. Tony had been kind… until tonight. He always treated you to the best and made sure you were well taken care of. But he had gotten… off when he noticed you tonight having taken a nice tone and smiled at a busboy as you dropped off dishes near the kitchen entrance that was out of your way. You had only been trying to be nice to the guy. You knew what it was like working customer service and you only wanted to make his job a little bit easier. And he was not hard on the eyes. Receiving small flirtations was harmless in your eyes and it boosted your mood. It had done just that for the guy.

But upon coming back to the room, Tony was callous, and you had to pry him out of his shell with sweet words and caresses. He had been condescending, asking you if you got off on pleasing men in front of him. When you had told him you did not know what he was talking about he had torn your dress down the front, ignoring your shocked cries at his brutal behavior, and forced you onto the bed. The tatters of the dress had been torn from you completely and he had done the same to your underwear and then forcibly removed your bra from you. He had not even waited for you to get wet before slamming up into you.

“Who gives a fuck what that good-for-nothing husband of yours thinks?” He nipped at your neck, sucking in roughly. His hands gripped and held you close.

“My face does,” you retorted, trying to unwind yourself from him. But Tony was quick, locking you back down. “Tony, please.”

You managed to unlock yourself despite his grabbing and you slid off the bed, hitting the ground, your ass hitting it roughly. He exhaled sharply, glaring down at you and you moved quickly backwards, getting to your feet unsteadily. He was already getting out of the bed, and you moved quickly, snatching up your bag. Your dress was ruined, which was no matter. You could return in your sweats and top.

Tony was on you though and his grip on your bag was tight and he yanked back, drawing you with it. You let go as you stumbled as to not lose your balance and face plant. He used his momentum to throw the bag across the room by the sliding glass door.

“Tony! Stop playing games!” you said desperately, trying to move towards where he threw it, but he stepped in your way. “You know I have to get ready! You can’t be jealous of him. You know what this is.”

“So what if I’m jealous?” Tony asked, continuing to advance towards you and you kept walking backwards. Your back hit the wall, stopping your advancement. “The thought of you with him makes me sick.”

“He’s my husband—"

Tony slammed his fist on the counter, and you jumped back against the wall, causing it to shake slightly. “Stop making fucking excuses! He’s a piece of shit and you know it! Why won’t you just accept me?”

“Tony, I do—” you tried to placate him.

“Don’t you lie to me,” he warned in a snarl. “If that were true, you would be loyal to me and me only. You know how I feel. I want you. Wholly.”

That was so unfair of him to say when you knew he was married. But you also knew better than to point that out. Not when he was this belligerent; you knew belligerent men were hardly able to be reckoned with and calmed down. No, you needed to use other facts.

“And you did, this whole weekend,” you pointed out in shaky tones.

Tony’s laugh was maniac, “’Weekend’. Yeah, that’s what I mean when I say wholly.”

You tried to dodge around him quickly to go towards your bag, but he jolted out and grabbed you around the waist, swinging you around. You kicked your legs as he dragged you. You bounced on the mattress, not fully on it but not fully off it either. You grabbed at the sheets to get leverage and you got grounded just as his hand closed around your ankle. You pulled away with ferocity, landing on the other side of the bed. Scrambling, you grabbed your bag. Tony’s arm came around you, pulling you back.

“Tony!” you cried out, your voice cracking. “Please stop!”

There was a sharp knock at the door and the two of you froze. Tony swore underneath his breath and let you go, causing you to stumble because you had been relying on him.

He snatched up his briefs and threw them on before storming towards the door as another knock came.

He opened the door a crack and sighed frustrated, “What?”

You heard Happy, “Uh, I was coming to get Y/N… it’s time to take her back? I went to bed super early so I would be ready to take her back now?”

You were relieved to hear someone with sense.

“Fuck!” Tony snapped, tossing the door open and you squeaked, still naked. You rushed towards the hall to grab your sweats and sweater out and throw those on.

When you emerged again, Happy was waiting by the door and Tony was necking the bottle of bourbon he had bought. He slammed it back down on the counter and glared at you. You went to go towards him to kiss him goodbye to try to start to smooth things over, but he held up his hand forcibly and you stopped. He took another swig without looking at you.

Hurt, you turned towards Happy, who was looking at Tony with scrutiny as well before following you out the door. You fell asleep on the car ride home and when you arrived back at your place, Tony still had not texted you.

<><><>

Clutching your duffel bag, you climbed the stairs a week later to your apartment. Tony had been clipped in his responses since Happy had taken you home. You were growing simultaneously frustrated and nervous with possessive, aggressive behavior.

Upon walking in, you saw the living room was upturned. Your blood chilled and you immediately dropped your bag, going for the switchblade in your front pocket of it. It was out as you grabbed your cell phone out of your bag.

Just as you were about to dial 911, Tony emerged from the hallway, holding up his hand. “Darling, it’s just me.”

Dropping the hand with your phone, you demanded, “’Just you’? What are you doing?”

Tony shrugged, “What I needed to do.”

You did not like the way that sounded at all. And then you noticed all the blood on his hands and on the wetness on his black jacket, which was no doubt more blood. Your hand clutched your switchblade tighter. Tony’s eyes dropped to it, and he looked back up at you.

“Sweetheart, there’s no need for that. It’s just me.”

“’Just you’? Where’s Michael?”

Tony rolled his eyes, annoyed. He turned his back and walked towards the kitchen. He flipped the switch on in there as he moved towards the sink. You moved to follow him and upon seeing more of the kitchen, you saw Carol and Rhodes were sitting at the table, having a drink.

“Where’s Michael?” you repeated.

Washing his hands in the sink now, without a care for the blood splattering, Tony told you, “I could have used a gun, but this was personal.”

The horror of what he was admitting without outright saying it was washing down on you. Your hand wavered, threatening to drop your switchblade.

“You…you…” you stammered; your chest was tight.

Tony continued rinsing the blood off of his hands, unbothered. He finished as you stood there frozen by your shock. Shaking his hands off, he wiped them on his black jeans and turned back to face you. As soon as he started to come close, you regained sense of self and your hand gripped tighter on your blade again.

Tony was not having any of that. He was quick and gripped your wrist tightly, twisting it so you cried out, dropping the blade. He held you up to the wall by your throat.

His word was law sinking around you, “No more excuses, Y/N. You’re all mine now.”

~~~

Song list to set the mood for me while writing:

Was Ich Liebe -- Rammstein Walk -- Pantera Problem -- Natalia Kills Inertia Creeps -- Massive Attack Dissolved Girl -- Massive Attack Just For Me -- Saint Jhn feat. Sza

Marvel tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld @holl2712 @agustdowney @biiskuitx

#tony stark x reader #dark!tony stark #dark tony stark #dark marvel #my shit

127 notes · View notes

meltwonu · 4 years

Text

84. “I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Is that a promise?”

notes; sugardaddy!wonwoo x sugarbaby!reader, choking, edging, oh the dream to be wonwoo’s sb… 😩 LOL I imagine he’d be a strict no nonsense kinda sd but also knows how to tease and really make u suffer when he wants to ykwim 🥴😏 thank you for requesting! enjoy! 💕

All it takes is a soft touch on the hip and a side glance from Wonwoo to know that he’s on to your little game. He doesn’t say a word; instead he keeps the polite and gentle smile on his face the entire night as he greets potential business partners.

Wonwoo invites you back to his penthouse when the party starts to wind down, the gleam in his eyes letting you know he won’t be taking ‘no’ as an answer this time. You nod politely.

The drive back to his penthouse is quiet; unnerving in the way Wonwoo seems to be completely calm about the entire thing.

But the heavy double doors close behind you with a loud thud; electricity coursing through your veins when you hear him laughing behind you while he turns the lock.

“It’s cute.”

He adjusts his glasses, pushing them higher up on his nose bridge before he starts loosening his tie. “I think it’s cute that you think that I’d get jealous if you flirted with my potential business partners.” There’s a pause; Wonwoo’s expensive shoes clacking against the marble when he steps behind you. “I hope you realize the party was me scouting which businesses to acquire, sweetheart. Technically, you’d be downgrading if you left me for someone else.”

Wonwoo places a hand on your waist, guiding you to the living room.

“So you’re saying I wasted my time?” You pout, turning to face Wonwoo who uses his free hand to tilt your head up to meet his steely gaze. “Not necessarily. If it’s a punishment you were looking for, you’re definitely going to get it. Now turn and face the window. Palms on the glass, sweetheart.”

You give him your best puppy eyes, to which he doesn’t react; sighing when you turn and place your clammy hands on the crystal clean window. “Can’t I take my heels off?” Wonwoo chuckles, stepping behind you until his front is pressed up to your backside. “No? This is a punishment, it’s not supposed to be comfortable.”

His hands are warm, fingertips guiding the flimsy material of your dress higher and higher until it bunches up around your waist. “I’m gonna fuck your cute ‘lil pussy and you’re not allowed to cum. Am I understood?”

“I can’t cum… at all?”

“No.”

You catch his reflection in the glass, licking your lips. “And what if I can’t help it?”

“I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.”

And Wonwoo keeps his promise; hand wrapped around the column of your throat in warning as he fucks into you from behind. The glass in front of you fogs up from your breathy whines, a soft cry falling from your lips when Wonwoo pulls out for the fifth time. “G-god… Wonwoo, p--please..” You cry; pussy clenching around emptiness as he chuckles. If there was anything you hated, it was when he edged you.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like getting teased?” He smirks, waiting until you calm down again before he sinks the head of his cock back into you. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that earlier, huh?”

Wonwoo starts to shallowly thrust into you; only letting you feel the head of his cock. “No, no, please… I need, ah, m-more, Wonwoo, not---not just t-this…” Whimpering, you try to meet his shallow thrusts, only stopping when the grip on your neck tightens. “And what makes you think you can make demands, sweetheart?” He laughs, continuing his torturous movements.

Despite your complaints, you can only bite your lip when you feel yourself getting close again, thighs shaking when you get the closest to an orgasm for the first time since stepping foot in his home.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t cum.” He warns right before he suddenly bottoms out; the air getting knocked out of you when the head of his cock taps you g-spot.

“O-oh, fuh---fuck!”

Your jaw clenches as you try to stave off your orgasm; Wonwoo’s grip on your throat getting tighter as he finally chases his orgasm. “I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy, make you go home filled with my cum. I know it’s not much of a punishment since you like it so much, but let it be a reminder that this pussy is mine.” He grits out, thrusting into you harder and faster as your walls tighten around him.

“Won---Wonwoo, I, hah, c-can’t--”

“What? Can’t not cum, huh? This cunt of yours is so fuckin’ greedy. S’okay, I know you can’t help it.”

Your head starts getting fuzzy from the tension in your body ready to snap at any second and Wonwoo constricting your airways. And Wonwoo’s thrusts become erratic as he finally cums, cock throbbing when he unloads all of his cum inside of you.

His orgasm triggers your own, soft shaky moans on your lips when he loosens his hold on your neck. Your thighs shake, head falling forward as you finally ride out your high too.

You feel warm and satisfied; body still on fire with the remnants of your orgasm when Wonwoo already starts to pull out. “Ngh… fuck…” You mumble, already feeling the cum sliding down your thighs when he steps back. Your arms and legs threaten to give out but Wonwoo is quick to wrap an arm around your midsection before you fall.

“You should get cleaned up. I’ll have my driver take you home.” You can only moan tiredly in response, clammy hands resting on his strong arm as he keeps you upright.

“And don’t worry about your little trip up. I promise I won’t dock any monetary amount off of your payment for accompanying me tonight.”

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo

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39th · 3 years

Note

It's not that no Kp*p idol is allowed to have tattoos, many do. Most just have very small ones. It's a mix of culture, fear, image, older generation's frowns etc (I'm Asian). J@y P*rk (terrible person tho) has a lot of tattoos. Big celebrities getting tattos is helping destigmatize tattoos, J@y P*rk is one of the people who did it in a big way and he's a rapper, rappers have them more than idols do. Jungkook has always been adventurous, he had 4 to 6 piercings and at some point he tried gauge too. Back then some entitled fans whined about it so he took them out, there are 1000x more fans now and he is much more comfortable doing what he likes unapologetically.. from tattoos to long hair or pigtails. Another factor is company, so far BTS's company is the most lenient and progressive with their policies. They did hide his first knuckle tattoos (fandom nane, members' initials) in the beginning, they'll have to hide the sleeve for TVs now too, but they can't forbid him. It's not like BTS would be fired 😂 But this is the company whose CEO bought one of their older gnc male artist his first pair of high heels 😊 (and speculated by general public to be scouting queer artists all the time 😂)

The other two HYBE artists everyone seems to have gender envy for are Jimin and Yeonjun. They also have similar mindsets as Jungkook. Those two like playing with gender in a sensual way, Jimin sparked a huge conversation with his performance of Filter.

Sorry this is a lot of info, it's rare to see genuine progressiveness from Kp*p industry, and these people have been doing it for a long time, they've been a comfort to us queer fans for a long time.

Back to Jungkook, he is a very sweet polite introverted guy who loves gaming and snacks, gets incredibly jealous if his big brothers aren't playing with him, and likes to use them as weights when he does push ups. Please be kind to him and his big brothers. (If you want, look up Begin lyrics translation on doolset blog you'll understand)

i'm just so happy that their company is now more lenient about showing jungkook's tattoos! idk why they wanna hide it anyway, those tattoos look super good on him. i think they should just let jungkook stream live n show off his tattoos in HD and explain it in full detail !! that's obviously what the people want ♡ i hope the other companies start taking notes too and let their idols do whatever they want with their bodies!!

@ kpop companies just let your idols express themselves freely. it's really not that hard

#oh and i've also heard abt jimin and yeonjun!! & i would also like to steal their gender.#i'm just gonna collect kpop idol's gender like they're pokemon #gotta catch them all!!!!#wait wait and i just heard from irls that jungkook's knuckle tattoo says 'ARMY' in it...#i'm not an army (...yet😳) but that's making me go EUEUUE *sound of cryign* UEUE UEUEU T_T #i'm gonna cry fr what the fuck he's so sweet.#jungkook seems like a genuinely nice and sweet guy i love him sm #and i'll definitely check out the begin lyrics translation thank you!!!#thanks 4 telling me all about this ^_^ i never thought i would b into kpop but look at me now #character development #✰#mail

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cinebration · 4 years

Text

By My Rules (Quentin Beck x Reader) [Part 8]

Unexpected news.

Warnings: none

Gif Source: p-pikachu

Alyssa Margrove looked small in the seat despite her five-nine frame. Her brown hair was glossy with the oils from her scalp, suggesting she hadn’t washed it in a few days. Dark circles ringed her eyes, the irises shiny with paranoia.

You checked the notes in her file, frowning as you verified what you already knew: the current S.H.I.E.L.D. agent wasn’t yet in phase three of her nightmare “treatment.” She shouldn’t be this on edge.

“Alyssa, if you don’t mind my bluntness, you look worse than last we met.”

Alyssa’s hands clasped each other tightly, squeezing until her perfectly manicured but unpainted nails went white.

“Have the nightmares become worse?”

Alyssa jerked her head in a nod. You frowned again, your misgiving deepening. Had Quentin accelerated this woman’s exposure to his tech without telling you?

“Please explain, Alyssa. When you’re ready.”

Alyssa swallowed thickly and stared down at her hands. When she finally spoke, her voice had thinned, haunted. “Waking nightmares are a thing, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re having a nightmare, but it’s day time and you aren’t asleep.”

“You’ve been having nightmares…awake?”

“That’s the only thing I can think of to explain what I saw.”

Trying to contain your interest to professional curiosity, you gestured wordlessly for Alyssa to go on.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Two days ago, I left work at the usual time—Fury keeps me on a schedule but always on call—but I accidentally left my keys on the desk. I’ve not gotten much sleep, so I’ve been forgetting things.” She paused, as though having lost her train of thought. “Anyway, when I returned to my desk, I heard voices in Fury’s office, but they weren’t his or Hill’s. When I looked inside, I saw…”

You were practically perched on the edge of your seat. Alyssa remained silent, eyes unfocused as she recalled the memory.

“Alyssa,” you prompted, your voice a little harsher than you intended.

Flinching, she rushed through it. “I saw two aliens. Sharp teeth, pointy ears, green skin. Wearing Fury’s clothes and Hill’s clothes. I couldn’t believe it, but all of a sudden, they spun around in a panic, and they suddenly weren’t aliens anymore. They were Fury and Hill.”

Your brain struggled with this unexpected information. Aliens? Had Fury and Hill been replaced by aliens? Had they been aliens all along?

“Did they see you?” you managed to ask.

Alyssa nodded. “I turned away last second. When they got to the door, I was jangling my keys and immediately said, ‘Sorry, sir, I forgot my keys. Do you need anything?’ And he said no, and I left.”

You blinked, impressed that this woman, curling in on herself in panic and hopelessness, could so easily lie in the face of such a bizarre vision. You had to check with Quentin, but infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. on that level was impossible. What she had seen had either been a trick of her mind or had actually been real.

If it’s real, Fury and Hill aren’t home.

You burst through the front door. Quentin looked up from the couch, visibly brightening in your presence.

“Hi, sweetheart, how—”

“I think Fury and Hill are gone.”

“What?”

Dropping your bag onto the side table and peeling off your coat, you explained in rapid fire the vision Alyssa had seen. As personal secretary to Fury, she was the one whose access you most prized. After considerable thought in the wake of Alyssa’s statement, you had concluded that while Quentin was known for spontaneity and recklessness, he wouldn’t be so stupid as to thwart the one client that could get them into S.H.I.E.L.D.

You had to believe that the woman had been telling the truth.

“Holy shit,” Quentin breathed as the information sunk in. “Holy shit!”

“We’ll have to accelerate the timetable to take advantage of this,” you said, kicking off your heels. “It may not be true, but it’s too ludicrous not to at least consider it as a possibility.”

“This is amazing!”

“Don’t let yourself get carried away.” Taking the stairs two at a time, you reached your study and hastily scouted through your paperwork, locating the information you wanted: the number of a woman skilled at procuring, under the radar, particular tech suited to your needs.

Quentin had followed you upstairs, eyes bright with excitement as he envisaged the possibilities. You entered the number and typed up a cryptic text message asking for the equipment you would need for the next step.

“If Fury isn’t here, that makes everything a million times easier,” Quentin said, voice high with elation. “We can have the whole place sucking on—”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you repeated. “We’ve got to keep our wits about ourselves.”

Clapping his hands, Quentin burst into laughter and swept you up into his arms, spinning you around in his joy. You laughed despite yourself, hands on his shoulders.

When he set you down, he pressed a hard kiss to your lips. You didn’t fight it. To your surprise, you felt yourself returning the action.

Quentin didn’t notice, too excited by the new development.

“Amazing,” he cried again, and left you standing there wondering why everything had turned fuzzy.

#Quentin Beck x Reader #Quentin Beck #Quentin Beck imagine #Mysterio x Reader #Mysterio #Mysterio imagine #Jake Gyllenhaal #Jake Gyllenhaal imagine #Spider-Man: Far From Home #FFH #Spider Man Far From Home

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mythgirlimagines · 4 years

Text

Anon KG Characters with NDRV3 Talents

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MYTH: Former SHSL Detective

One of the six chaperones of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate and Wyre’s childhood friend. Having grown up a massive fan of mystery shows, novels and video games, her ability to connect the dots to find the true culprit is unparalleled. Originally doing lost pet and infidelity cases, she has eventually risen to tackle on murders. But one mystery that she wasn’t able to solve for years is the whereabouts of her childhood friend Wyre ever since she got lost in the forest when she was 10, until she attended Hope’s Peak to find out that her friend has become an Ultimate herself.

Clothes: A purple fedora, a purple jacket over a white button-up shirt and a pink necktie, a purple tarten skirt, white knee-high socks and brown slip ons.

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WYRE: Former SHSL Supreme Leader

One of the six chaperones of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate and Myth’s childhood friend. One day, when Wyre was 10, she’s gotten lost in the forest on a dare. But luckily for her, she was found by a bunch of lost kids who have also gotten lost in the spooky woods and over the years, she lead them with a firm, yet soft, hand and even recruited more lost children into her pack, making Wyre their official leader. Eventually, she was tranquilized by talent scouts and hauled over to to Hope’s Peak, where she reunited with Myth, once and for all.

Clothes: A moose skull on her head, green war paint on her cheeks, a leopard print tube top, brown fingerless gloves, a camo-printed cape, a bone belt, tattered brown shorts and brown sandals.

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SCAR: SHSL Magician

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. Ever since she was a child, she fancied herself as a Supreme High Demon Lord. She’s managed to wow crowds all over the world with her flashy illusions, her supremely convincing sleight-of-hand tricks and her overdramatic Chuunibyou personality that bleeds into her performances. Even at Hope’s Peak, she works hard to keep up her Demon Lord facade, but unfortunately for her, most of her classmates can see right through that facade, because deep down, she’s a just massive softie that cares too much about them.

Clothes: A black and red hooded cape that covers her hair and mouth, a purple and black lolita dress, black gloves, black stockings and red heels.

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FUSION: SHSL Artist

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. Filling up sketchbook after sketchbook with his doodles as a kid, his mind is a treasure trove of golden ideas that are transcribed into equally stellar art. Eventually, his drawings and paintings became so good, that they could easily be mistaken for photos, and his painted sculptures could be mistaken for real people at first glance. During his time at Hope Peak’s, you can regularly find him wandering around the schoolhouse looking for inspiration for his next masterpiece.

Clothes: A brown and yellow artist smock with art supplies stuffed in the pockets over an oversized blue turtleneck with paint on the end of the sleeves, brown oversized pants and dark brown loafers. You can usually find him pulling art supplies out of his afro.

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FUSION II: SHSL Neo Akido Master

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. Sick and tired of her sassy and rebellious attitude, Fusion II’s parents sent her to a martial arts dojo, hoping it would teach her to be more disciplined and obedient. But unfortunately for them, while her Aikido prowess most definitely increased, her sassiness and rebellious attitude are still fully intact. In fact, Neo Aikido, a more violet and upfront version of Aikido, was invented by Fusion II for the sole purpose of spiting her parents, by making a martial art that’s the complete opposite of disciplined and obedient.

Clothes: A kimono with a blue top and a long frilly skirt with a white to blue gradient, white socks and tall geta sandals, for that extra kick.

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JANON: SHSL Child Caregiver/Assassin

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. When Janon was growing up, kids, despite their tsundere protests, all flock to them. So eventually, they got used to it and know exactly what tactics can tranquilize those little rugrats, which is how Janon became the SHSL Child Caregiver. But what their classmates don’t know, is that Janon has a real talent that matches more closely to their true nature; an assassin who mainly specializes in distant and indirect methods of murder, such as poisoning and sniping.

Clothes: The same clothes they normally wear, with their underclothes being their assassin clothes.

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SPARKLE: Former SHSL Inventor

One of the six chaperones for Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. As an ever-creative youngster, her head was just buzzing with ideas and she was just yearning to get these spectucular contraptions out into the real world. When her breakthrough invention, the levitating phone case, hit the markets, they were stripped off the shelves in less than one business day. She has an inventive, creative and hardworking mindset, matched only by her bombastic, loud and flashy personality that admittedly makes for a good advertising ploy for her gadgets.

Clothes: Golden goggles, a black and white striped t-shirt, brown overalls with a sparkly purple tool belt, matching brown gloves, sparkly purple rocket boots, and her signature sparkly purple cape.

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EGG: Former SHSL Adventurer

One of the six chaperones for Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. A outgoing and boisterous, if cursed at the worst times, person, globetrotting and socializing gives Egg a rush that can’t be topped by any other activity. In fact, traveling is the only thing that Egg and Wet Sock both like, considering they otherwise contrast each other in every other way possible. But the one major thing that Egg likes about traveling is the wildlife; from jungles to tundras, from forests to the sea, they are a treasure trove of both nature knowledge and cursed comments.

Clothes: A green Hawaiian shirt with yellow flower designs, red ruby earrings and the same pants and shoes from their regular design.

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WET SOCK: Former SHSL Anthropologist

One of the six chaperones for Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. The antithesis of their twin, but equally as cursed and passionate about traveling, Wet Sock is prickly, aggressive and knife-obscessed, which as it turns out, if you choose to hang out with them, is simply a facade. Being ostracized in favor of their more friendly, if less intelligent, twin, Wet Sock grew bitter and resentful for other people, pursuing anthropology in hopes of finding out if there’s anything beautiful about people. But deep, deep down, underneath their black hoodie, all they want is a friend.

Clothes: The same clothes from their original design, except with a black oni mask and black gloves.

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CURIOUS: SJHSL Butler/Maid/Servant

One of the two SJHSL students participating in the SHSL Internship Program. Being raised and adopted by a royal family, they were taught everything about being prim, proper, poised and most importantly, obedient. Eventually, they’ve gotten every single possible servant duty mastered; from cooking to cleaning to even entertaining the royal family’s guests, nothing is out of reach for this miniature, yet overly reliable servant. Thier prim and proper behavior even extends to how they behave at Hope’s Peak, always willing to do what they can to help their classmates.

Clothes: A black and white tuxedo with a green tie and white gloves.

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NERD: Former SHSL Robot

One of the six chaperones for Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. “Project N-32-D” or as christened by their classmates, “NERD”, is the most advanced project ever crafted by famed roboticist, Professor P. Dexter. N-32-D is designed by P. Dexter with advanced humanesque AI and many useful functions hid snugly in his chassis. Not wanted his major project to get manipulated and toyed by humans, P. Dexter equipped N-32-D with an aggressive personality, a foul mouth and several weapons packed into his functions.

Clothes: The robot design from Nerd’s Picrew.

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ELDRITCH: SHSL Entomologist

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. Inherently distrusting and paranoid around humans, Eldritch has turned to interacting with animals as a substitute for socializing with people, or more specifically, insects. Finding solace with the equally skittish critters, what propelled him into SHSL status was discovering a new species of insect that was believed to have long gone extinct. Despite his protests to the contrary, talent scouts were all too eager to drag him to Hope’s Peak for his contributions to entomology.

Clothes: The same camo hoodie from his original design, but with nature themed badges, a black t-shirt with an green insect design on the front, and bandages covering his fingers and legs.

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DREAM: SHSL Tennis Pro

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. With her sunny and energetic personality, an athletic talent fits her to a T (for tennis) and tennis is most definitely not an acception. Her positive and energetic personality and fast, yet accurate movements, managed to breath light into an otherwise uninteresting, yet under-appreciated sport, and catapult her into SHSL status. Her bright, cheery and sunny personality has attracted her a massive following both inside and outside Hope’s Peak.

Clothes; The came clothes from the original, except with Ryoma’s hat design on her shirt, and a pink and grey striped headband.

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IRIS: SJHSL Astronaut

One of the two SJHSL students participating in the SHSL Internship Program. A determined and optimistic little girl, she’s managed to pass her NASA exams with flying colors and land an internship at a NASA space base. Hoping that one day she will reach for the stars, she’s been training her mind and body for years in order to handle the hideous, yet mysterious, vacuum of space. But her ever-positive attitude just knows that her astronomical intelligence combined with her molten core of determination would make her a perfect astronaut.

Clothes: A dark blue jacket with the NASA logo on the front with a matching dark blue skirt, black stocking, and thigh high black boots with stars on the front.

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FANCY: SHSL Cosplayer

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. With the ability to pull off both male and female characters in costume form, Fancy is able to cosplay as a myriad of fictional characters from video games and animations from around the world. Ever since they started to cosplay as “Charles” the main villain from the anime “Intergalactic Gentleman”, they’ve managed to cosplay as at least one character from every series in the book. What really pushes these cosplays above and beyond just regular cosplays, is that they are all handcrafted and sewn by Fancy themselves.

Clothes: The same clothes from their original design, except with a black and white cape, circuit patterns around the suit. gloves, top hat and cape, and a red scouter.

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PURPLE: SHSL Pianist

One of the attendants of Hope’s Peak’s annual field trip to Kibo-Con Ultimate. Ever since her performance of Mozart’s “Eine Kliene” at her first ever concert at 7 years old, Purple has been hailed as a musical prodigy from a young age. But while her piano playing has gained her a barrage of fans, her timorous and emotionally fragile nature off the stage and away from a piano means that the attention was more of a curse than a blessing for her. If you do managed to get some words out of her, you’ll find her words and voice are as harmonious as her piano playing.

Clothes: The same clothes except with music note pins in her beret instead of a feather, and a purple and black skirt with a sheet music pattern.

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So, how’s my grand finale? I may have put more emphasis on the backstory in a couple of them. I hope that’s okay with you. If you want me to write more Anon KG Talentswaps, just let me know!

-Fusion Anon

—

Great! I do have a request from Wyre to please not write her in skirts, since she’s not a fan of skirts

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chillax-kass-w · 4 years

Text

After All | RM8

[Reiner Braun/Reader]

[TW: Canon-Typical Character Death/Violence]

Happiness seems impossible for Reiner, but he may get there after all.

Read on AO3

[As a note, the format of this story is as follows: chapters actually titled “Chapter _” are current to the Marley Arc, chapters titled “M_” are Reiner’s memories in succession, and chapters titled “RM_” are the Reader’s memories in succession]

Nothing could prepare a person for sitting in front of a gate that held certain peril. No training, no mind tricks, nothing. It was as if everything was out the window save for the absolute terror of the Titans and the memory of the formation.

Thank goodness that had been drilled into her memory.

“Thirty seconds to opening!”

She knew for a fact that this would be the longest thirty seconds of her life. Glancing around, she recognized Reiner’s crown a little ways away. She didn’t know what made him turn to her, but she was glad he did. Even though she was head over heels in inner turmoil, she relished in the safety she felt when she looked into his eyes. He didn’t smile, and neither did she, but the quiet resolve in his heavy eyes was enough to assure her, if only in that moment, that she would be okay. He would be okay.

“This is it! Now the human race takes another step forward! Show me what you learned!”

She raised her fist, solidarity and strength held within her grip. She would survive. She would not succumb to the fear the Titans engendered. She would stand tall with her comrades. She would trust them.

Trust is all they have.

“Open the gate! Launch the 57th Expedition outside the Wall! Advance!”

With that, she shook the reins so tightly held in her hands. Alice, her horse, held her ground beside the other steeds of the Survey Corps. Immediately, they crossed through the remnants of a town, long abandoned since Wall Maria was breached. Immediately, a ten meter Titan was upon them. She almost reached for her triggers to engage it, but she remembered the plan. The support team would hold off the Titans close to the Wall to give them time to get into formation and leave civilization. She trusted them, so she returned her hands to the reins.

“Long Distance Enemy Scouting Formation, deploy!” Based on her higher than average kill count in the Battle of Trost, she was tasked closer to the right flank of the formation. She was in the immediate first column, the first wave of enemy detection. Not surprisingly, most if not all of the new recruits had been tasked with message relay and spare horses. Even Mikasa, who’d had a higher kill count, was positioned nearer to the center of the formation, but (f/n) assumed it was due to Eren’s position at the left center of the formation, the same squad that held Mikasa. She would protect him to the death; the Commander must have planned that accordingly. Based on that, (f/n) was technically the next best recruit to fill an empty position that would normally hold a veteran.

Despite that explanation, she felt immense terror as soon as she spotted her first Titan. Shaky hands made to reach for a smoke signal, but the leader of her squad shot off one without delay. This continued for a while, the Titans slowly coming into the light. The terror in her gut was dissipating as she saw the formation at work; they hadn’t had to engage once.

Good things never last, though.

“What the hell?!”

“Abnormals! A bunch of ‘em!”

Black smoke signal.

“Prepare to engage!”

“Is that female one leading them here?!”

White noise.

She turned her head, only to feel bile well up in her throat. At least twenty Titans were headed their way, and at their center was what looked to be a blonde female, easily fourteen meters high. There was little time to think about that, though. The Titans would be upon them at any second. Shaky hands reached for her grips, then for her swords. Dull comfort filled her chest at being armed, but the adrenaline wasn’t enough. She froze when she saw the first of her squad dismount and engage a six meter class Titan. It was Colette. As soon as the woman struck the nape, another appeared behind it, reaching for her comrade. So close, so close to Colette, yet she spun out of the way and struck its nape too.

So close to her…

Sarah…

She couldn’t sit idly by and watch her comrades be devoured. Colette, Ivan, Declan, Stella, Schultz… None of them deserved to meet Death. She wouldn’t allow it. As she placed her feet firmly on the saddle, she extended her promise to them. She would protect them; she would bring them home. So, with that in mind, she met the air. The Female Titan hadn’t reached her position yet, but three Titans were bearing down on her group. They had to get rid of them if they wanted a chance against the horde behind them.

Near her, Declan took out an eight meter Titan’s achilles, so she latched onto its neck and closed in. His shout barely met her ears; her heartbeat was too heavy. The rest of her squad took down the remaining two, and they were left to wait for the Female Titan to close in.

It didn’t take long .

Instantly, she kicked Ivan’s horse from beneath him, and he flew through the air with sickening velocity. Next went Colette, then Stella, then Schultz. Declan screamed, dismounting and engaging the air. The Female Titan caught his wires, throwing him away as if his life meant nothing.

Nothing.

She could do nothing.

(f/n) couldn’t even find her voice. The panic, the dread, the immense grief kept her rooted to her spot. Bile flooded her taste buds, and her heart threatened to cease its beating. She barely registered that her hands held her blades tighter than ever. The dull comfort was gone; the adrenaline left her veins; lactic acid took its place. She was vaguely aware of the blood coating her skin and clothes. Who did that belong to?

Thump, thump, thump.

Was that her heart, or the Titan’s approaching footsteps?

Blue eyes…

Shocking was the fact that the Female Titan stopped to look at her, its hand outstretched to crush her. Death was there, standing by her side; (f/n) could feel it, see it, taste it. Time stood still as that gaze bore into hers. Blonde hair reminded her of Reiner, of their days in the forest cracking walnuts and watching the clouds. How ironic that a blonde Titan would crush her, just as Reiner had crushed so many walnuts.

She didn’t, though.

The Female Titan turned away from her, ran away from her, left her there, alive.

As much as she wanted to stop and stare, she couldn’t. She couldn’t contemplate the implications in that action. Screams for Life, screams of Death, filled her ears, and she begged her legs to move. They were upon her now, finding her comrades’ broken bodies strewn throughout the grass.

Move!

P l e a s e !

Out of sheer will, she picked up her blades. She couldn’t recall when they’d fallen from her hands, but she wouldn’t let it happen again. Adrenaline finally decided to flood her being. Bile remained, for she could hear the sounds of her friends being devoured. In her stupor, she’d been too late to save Colette, too late to save Stella.

She’d never forget that sight.

There were too many to fight alone; that much she knew. There would be no show of prowess here, no blaze of glory. Two Titans were leering down at her, and she almost let them grab her. Almost, but almost is never certain. With every ounce of hope she had left, she leaped from the saddle. The first was easy to take down, so easy she couldn’t remember the technical aspects of the kill. The second, however…

She missed.

Out of sheer luck, it missed too, but she knew luck wouldn’t have its way again. She had to get out of there. Treason be damned, she had to live. She had to save whoever she could, and she had to leave that hell. So, rather than engage again, she whistled for her horse, and she screamed for anyone that was alive. They were bearing down on her, five or six taking notice of the meal in front of them.

“Is anyone alive?!”

A voice, to her right. So close, so close.

“Somebody tell the others…”

It was Declan. A small Titan was grabbing his leg, his hand outstretched in a final gesture for Life. He was barely recognizable, what with the blood veiled across his face. Even as he clawed at the ground, (f/n) could tell he’d given up.

She wouldn’t let him.

“Right flank… Scouting Squad is nearly wiped out…”

“Shut up!”

First, she cut the wrist, then she went for the nape. It was all muscle memory at this point. She was running on autopilot, her only mission to save Declan. She’d do anything, anything at all. The Titan’s blood was satisfying, if only for the fact that it added a little more time to Declan’s clock. With a whistle, she landed beside him. He looked to her, looked through her, barely managed a cough. She picked him up, quickly mounting Alice and heading off in the direction of the Female Titan. A group was following her, but she believed in her mare’s speed, even with the added weight. Declan was still mumbling about the destruction at her back.

Thump, thump, thump.

Dissipating green smoke told her she was headed in the right direction. Everything was moving so fast, so fast. A cluster of Titans told her she was on the right track, but why were they staying at the base of such large trees? Faster, faster. Above the Titans, she could see soldiers in the trees. So close, so close. When she was within range, the Titans surrounding the trees noticed her. Fear coursed through her veins at that. She was truly between a rock and a hard place. The Titans at her back weren’t slowing down. Her only option was to dismount her horse and try to make it over the wall of Titans with Declan in tow. There was no way she could engage with him in her arms. So, she readjusted her hold on the man, and she jumped. The rest of her adrenaline, the rest of her gas, pushed her forward, and somehow, just somehow, she made it onto a branch.

She didn’t know how.

She didn’t want to know.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

As soon as she set her comrade down, she doubled over to vomit. Voices were at her back, but all her focus was on the dry heaving that shook her lungs. She curled in on herself, wanting nothing more than to vanish. All she could see was Death. Colette, Stella, devoured. Blood on her skin. Blame on her skin. Blame, blame, blame.

“(f/n)! Snap out of it!”

Someone was shaking her, but she couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t find her resolve. She couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone, for fear they’d die in front of her again.

Strong arms turned her around.

Hazel…

“(f/n), calm down. Breathe with me.”

The rise and fall of his chest assured her he was alive. The rise and fall of her chest assured her she was alive. Up, down, in, out. Up, down, in, out. She hadn’t realized she’d lost her peripheral vision until it came back, and she saw her friends surrounding her. That dull hope rose again, as did her blame, but nothing trumped the fact that they were alive, alive and breathing.

Why did it all feel so wrong?

#reiner braun #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun/reader #aot #snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #character death #death

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backtothestart02 · 5 years

Text

Hot to the Touch - 2/?

A/N: I love this fic. lol. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as much as I do! There will probably be at least two more to go.

For @iriswestallenhuh for our fics-for-icons arrangement. :P

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: College!AU - Of all the places Iris expected to meet the love of her life, she never imagined it would be the erotica section at the back of her favorite bookstore.

...

Chapter 2 -

His heart was still pounding when he rounded the corner and found himself across the street from his dorm. The walk had only been a couple blocks, but it felt like he’d been walking for miles, power-walking, trying to erase the image of a beautiful woman inconspicuously getting herself off in the back aisle of a bookstore he didn’t even know existed.

Truth was, he didn’t really want to get the image out of his head, but it felt like such an invasion of privacy that he’d walked in on her like that. It made him feel guilty for wanting to see more.

And he’d tried – he’d tried – to tell himself that she hadn’t really been doing anything other than innocently reading a book and getting engrossed in it. But he’d seen the sign for Erotica clear as day just two aisles before he got to her and no other sign in that space. And he’d been shocked to see her there – to see anyone really, because the bookstore in and of itself felt like a hidden treasure – but there was no mistaking the hazy look in her eyes, her teeth biting her bottom lip, and her legs rubbing against each other in a provocative motion. And when she’d registered him standing there, he could’ve sworn she was a little flustered herself, even in her shock.

No, he hadn’t imagined it. She’d been getting herself off. And he had interrupted her.

And then ran out of there as fast as his legs could carry him, because…how mortifying.

And really, he needed something to take the edge off that wasn’t masturbating to the memory of her doing the same. Because then he’d never get her out of his head, which would be problematic since he’d never see her again. And if he did, it’d be equally embarrassing for both of them.

He regretted everything and nothing. He needed to confess what he’d witnessed, but only to Cisco. He trusted no one else with this knowledge.

He was so agitated, he crossed the street in a hurry, ignorant of the cars honking at him, since the light had just turned green. Once inside and in front of their door, he found he couldn’t find the right key. Cisco had told him so many times there was no need for so many keys on one ring when he only really used their dorm key a majority of the time, but Barry had insisted it was better to keep them all in one place because, ‘You never know when you might need one! Better to be prepared.’ ‘Okay, boy scout,’ Cisco had rolled his eyes, and that had been the end of that.

In this particular instance, Barry wished he had listened.

His fingers were so slippery with sweat against the metal, and they were shaking, and he was breathing so heavily that finally the door swung open, revealing a stressed-looking Cisco on the other side, and he realized he must have heard him.

Oh, no, Barry thought. We can’t both be stressed.

“What is going on?” Cisco demanded.

Barry swallowed hard, trying to get himself under control.

“I saw a girl.” He pushed past his roommate into the room and started to pace, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

Slowly, Cisco closed the door behind him and turned around.

“What do you mean, you saw a girl?”

“I mean,” he paused dramatically. “I saw a girl.”

Cisco walked in front of Barry, who stopped and narrowed his eyebrows.

“What is that code for?”

“I-” His mouth ran dry. He gulped. “I saw her doing something.”

“Doing something,” Cisco repeated flatly.

“Mhmm.” Barry nodded, eyes wide.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, man. What is the something she was doing?”

“She was doing-” He sucked in a breath of air, seemingly unable to get another word out.

Cisco rolled his eyes, then guided his roommate to the couch in their little living room.

“Okay, how about you sit down. I’ll get you some water, and then you can tell me what happened.”

Barry breathed deeply and sat, sinking back into the couch.

“O-Okay.”

A few moments later, Cisco was back in front of him handing him a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

He waited for him to take a few sips and set it down on the coffee table.

“Feel better?”

“A little.”

“Okay then. Tell me what happened.”

Barry took a deep breath, and then-

A sound that reminded him an awful lot of either a sheep or a goat interrupted them from behind Cisco’s bedroom door.

“Cisco-”

“Don’t-”

But it was no use. Barry pushed the door open, and out walked a baby goat, bleating as it went and stopping right in front of Cisco’s feet. The latter sighed. Barry’s lips twitched.

“What are you doing with a goat, Cisco?”

“No, no, no, don’t make this about me now.” He walked straight up to Barry, pointing his finger accusingly. The baby goat followed after him, making it impossible for Barry to take his roommate seriously. “We were talking about you.”

Barry laughed and took a seat back on the couch.

“No, I think this is much more interesting. How did you come to have a goat in your possession?”

Cisco grumbled, admitting defeat as he ran a hand over his face and sat beside his best friend. The goat attempted to jump onto the couch, but Cisco ordered it to sit, and obediently, it did.

“The guest you assumed I had last night?”

“She turned into a goat?” Barry asked, amused.

“Ha.” Cisco glared. “No. And I didn’t get lucky, either. I thought I was going to, but apparently she just needed a place to crash and fell asleep the second she made it in to the couch. I set some water out and went to bed. When I woke up, she was gone and this goat was sitting at the foot of my bed. I don’t have a number for her, and all I’ve got is a first name to go by. I’m not even sure this animal is hers, but I can’t imagine who else it could belong to.” He sighed.

“Well, we can’t keep it, Cisco.”

“Obviously!” He fell back against the couch. “I’m open to suggestions.” He glanced over at Barry, interrupting him just as he was opening his mouth to potentially give him one. “After you tell me about what happened with the girl. I’m guessing she was pretty.”

Resigned, Barry sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“What’d she look like?” Cisco asked, suddenly sounding as eager as a school girl for some gossip.

Barry ignored that, because really, he needed to confess this.

He shrugged. “Petite. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes…”

“You saw her eyes?”

A vision of when he’d been caught red-handed flashed before his eyes.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “For a second.”

“Okay. Enough beating around the bush, Allen. What was she doing that’s got you so flustered and blushing like-” He paused, the blinding realization hitting him suddenly. “Oh, God. You caught her in a private moment?” Barry nodded sheepishly. “With herself?” Barry didn’t say anything, but he turned a bright red. To be fair, even Cisco’s cheeks warmed up.

“Well.” Cisco cleared his throat. “No wonder.” His brows furrowed a moment later. “You’ve been with girls before, though, Barry. At least twice. This can’t be the first time you’ve seen-”

“She wasn’t naked, Cisco.” His voice squeaked. “It’s the fact that I don’t know her. She’s a stranger and she was doing something I shouldn’t have been allowed to see. It’s embarrassing, and I feel so…guilty. I invaded her privacy.”

He sounded so scandalized Cisco almost had to laugh, but he held it in.

“It sounds like it was an honest mistake, Barry. And like you didn’t stick around to see what would happen.”

“No.” Barry shook his head rapidly. “I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“Oh, boy.”

Cisco squeezed his shoulder.

“Look, I really think you’re making this a bigger thing than it needs to be, but if you’re having trouble getting the incident out of your head, why don’t we go out tonight? Get drunk at some party?”

Barry glared. “We’re underage, Cisco.”

“I think you need it, Barry.” Barry opened his mouth to protest, but Cisco interrupted him again. “You said Ralph was pestering you before. What was it about?”

Barry sighed but inevitably caved.

“He wants me to go to a party with him, but I know it’s just to be his designated driver because he plans on getting drunk. I said I’d think about picking him up if he called.”

“What if we both go to the party?”

“Cisco-”

“I’ll be the designated driver, so if you decide to break the law and drink your trauma away, I can drive both of you fools home.”

Barry glared.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“What about the goat?”

The animal bleated at the mention of its existence. Cisco looked down into its cute, innocent face.

“I think Caitlin owes me a favor.”

…

Linda walked into the doorway of Iris’ bedroom at the exact moment Iris was tugging her lacy, black push-up bra up and her snug-fitting coral tank down. She was further amused when she yanked the black leather mini-skirt she’d chosen farther up her waist, so the hem would reach mid-thigh at best and just below her ass when she bent down to adjust the straps on her glistening high heels. She was just reaching for the jewelry on the top of her dresser when her eyes locked with Linda’s, a smile tugging at the corner of her best friend’s lips.

“Caught red-handed, West.”

Iris felt heat warm her cheeks, but she cleared her throat and brought the sparkly choker to her neck anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, adjusting her long locks over her shoulders just before leaning towards the mirror to apply her make-up.

Linda laughed and walked past her, plopping herself down on her bed.

“You’re a liar.”

Iris sighed after puckering her lips and setting down the pretty shade she’d chosen to complement her clothes and her complexion.

“So, I’m dressing up a little. It’s a party.”

“That you didn’t want to go to.”

“I still don’t.” She propped a hand on her hip.

Linda raised her eyebrows, silently waiting.

“I just figured…I should look the part of a hostess.”

“Co-hostess,” Linda corrected.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled politely.

Linda swung her leg over her knee and drummed her fingers.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone potentially showing up tonight, would it?”

Iris bristled. “You wouldn’t invite him.”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, holding her hands in the air in surrender. “But, uh…I didn’t say invites-only either, and I spread the news far and wide. He goes to CCU. Chances are he heard of it.”

Iris pursed her lips, contemplating the possible dilemma.

“Well, who cares?”

Linda raised her eyebrows again, further amused.

“Are you hoping he’ll be there? So he can… see what he’s been missing?”

Iris grinned. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that. But now that you say it, yes.”

“He’ll prob have a skank or two on his arms.” She rolled her eyes. “They prob will only be slightly more revealing than you are, I might add.”

Iris’ eyes narrowed. “The difference is I have style.”

“That’s true,” Linda allowed.

“Besides,” Iris tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not looking for a hook-up.” She met her eyes. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

Linda eyed her, suspicious. “You’re not?”

“No! Of course not!” She scoffed. “The fact that you even have to ask me that is-”

“I didn’t say with Eddie.”

She frowned.

“You’re not dressing up – or down – for him.” She got to her feet and approached her best friend mischievously. “So, who are you dressing for?”

“I – uh – n-no one!” She pushed past her, looking for something to distract herself with.

“You’re blushing!”

She spun around. “You can’t tell that!”

Linda rolled her eyes. “You sound like you’re blushing.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You’re flustered, then.” Iris opened her mouth to defend herself, but Linda kept going. “You stuttered and ran away from me.” Iris sighed, her shoulders hunching in defeat. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Iris avoided her gaze as she came closer.

“Did you meet someone?” Iris said nothing. “Where? When?” She paused. “At the bookstore? Today?”

Iris’ eyes flashed to hers, her mouth hanging open.

“How do you do that?”

Linda grinned and shrugged. “It’s a gift.” She continued when Iris was apparently rendered speechless. “So…are you gonna tell me about him? Is he hot?” She asked, going to sit back on her bed again. “Will I want him?” She winked when Iris’ head whipped up to look at her. “Kidding.” She laughed. “Finders keepers, he’s all yours.”

She sighed and came to sit next to her.

“He probably won’t be here, and it’s not like I want a relationship. I’m not ready for that.”

“So, you do want a hook-up,” she declared triumphantly.

Iris groaned. “Lindaaa.”

She laughed. “There’s no shame in that. You deserve to get some, and there are lots of bedrooms at the mansion.”

“In the house you grew up in?!” she asked, scandalized.

“It’s not like you have to do it in my bedroom.” She paused. “Or my parents’.” She licked her lips and started to grin. “Though theirs does have the biggest bed, and the view from their balcony is truly romantic.” She glanced over at her friend, who was currently glaring at her. “But I forgot, you don’t want romance.”

“I don’t,” she said stubbornly.

“Well, fine then. You’re certainly not dressed for it.”

“Linda,” she warned.

“Relax, Iris.” She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms soothingly. “It’ll be a good time even if you don’t get your hook-up tonight, or even if you don’t get it with the guy you like. You deserve to get laid. It’s been too long. I’d have died already if I was you.”

Iris snorted. “Does that mean you’re going to end up in one of the bedrooms?”

Linda sighed. “Unfortunately not. As the hostess, I should prob have my wits about me and not some jock’s face between my thighs.”

Iris shook her head. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“I love you, too, darling,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to her best friend’s face. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve got two hours to set up, and you know people will start showing up in one.”

Iris blew some locks out of her face.

“All right then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Iris grabbed her clutch, a light jacket and the keys for the apartment, then followed her roommate out into the living room and out the door.

She’d been in denial about wanting to see the guy at the bookstore again, especially given the way they’d met, but since she’d been unable to envision any guy in her books as anyone but him the rest of the time she’d been there, she figured maybe a hook-up would get him out of her system and she could go back to envisioning total body-building hunks like the ones on the covers of the books she read.

Maybe.

…

Barry leaned back against the wall and glanced into the red plastic cup Cisco had deposited in his hand an hour ago, still debating whether he could trust the liquid that was inside it.

“It’s punch, dude,” Cisco had said when Barry first looked at with serious skepticism.

“Is it spiked punch?” he accused, glaring.

Cisco laughed. “No!” He took a sip from his own cup of ‘punch’, then licked his lips. “I don’t think so at least.”

“Ugh. Take it.” Barry tried to force his cup back into his best friend’s hand, but it was rejected.

“No. No. Even if it is spiked, it can’t be much if I’m not even sure if I can taste it. And if you don’t start having fun soon, you may want a little innocent extra kick.”

Barry sighed. “Why are you so determined to break the rules? Did Ralph put you up to this?”

Amused, Cisco turned and pointed at a very drunk Ralph in the corner with two blondes sprawled over him and three empty beer cans sitting near him on the floor.

“I really don’t think Ralph cares whether you get drunk or not.”

Barry shook his head, disgusted.

Cisco laughed again. “Okay, look, I’m going to try my hand at introducing myself to the pretty girl sitting all by her lonesome on the edge of the pool.”

Barry looked past him to see the girl in question.

“Kendra Saunders?”

“She’s in my bio class, and I think she might like me.”

“Shouldn’t you be looking for the girl whose goat you still have?”

Irritated, Cisco threw up his hands.

“For all I know, that girl turned into the goat!”

Barry scoffed. “Cisco.”

“You suggested it!”

“I was joking.”

“Either way.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to worry about it tonight.”

“You’re gonna owe Caitlin one though after tonight. I mean, pretending to be sick so she’d have a good enough excuse to give Ronnie instead of ‘I need to watch my friend’s goat’?”

“Shush!” Cisco held up his finger. “I’ll make it up to her later.” He straightened his shirt. “Even if I have to explain it to Ronnie myself. But for now…”

“Yeah, yeah, go.” Barry brushed him off.

Cisco hadn’t needed any more encouragement than that, and within fifteen minutes he and Kendra had disappeared into another room. It occurred to Barry that maybe his best friend had more game than he’d originally concluded, more game than himself.

After another five minutes, Barry decided he wasn’t going to take any chances. That suspiciously normal-looking cup of punch was not going to make it to his mouth at any point. He noticed a few garbage bags lying in corners around the room but knew it would probably make somewhat of a mess if he dumped a full cup into one. After a little asking around and getting lost a few times, he managed to make it to the kitchen where the hostess of the party, Linda Park, looked to be stirring together a new batch of punch.

“It’s spiked, isn’t it?” he said flatly.

She smiled brilliantly, and he knew his answer.

He walked over to the large sink and dumped his cupful in, then tossed the cup into the nearest trash bag.

“What are you doing?” she asked, mildly scandalized.

“I don’t want to get drunk,” he said, annoyed.

She snorted, amused. “Then why did you come to a party?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I have no idea.”

She laughed. “Okay, look. If you’re not gonna loosen up, maybe you can help us gather some of the empty cups out there so it’s not as big of a hassle to clean everything up once everyone’s out of here.”

He debated that for a moment. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“My hero.”

He shifted a little awkwardly at that, but she was clearly unaffected and handed him a bag.

“Only empty cups, nothing yanked from people’s hands. If anybody says they’re not finished, don’t take it. And if you spot vomit anywhere, let me know and I’ll give you the supplies to clean it up.”

“Great,” he drawled, sarcastically.

Once again, she was unmoved. So, clutching the bag, he set out of the kitchen, trying not to sigh too loudly.

“Iris should be by the windows in the first room,” Linda said from behind him.

“Iris?” He asked, not giving it much thought.

“My co-hostess,” she explained. “She’s about my height and is wearing a coral top. You can’t miss her.”

He nodded and headed out, muttering the description to himself, so he’d remember.

“Her height, coral top, her height, coral top, her height, coral to-”

And then he saw her, and the breath was stolen from him.

“Iris?” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” she asked before turning around, oblivious to his voice or the fact that she’d briefly heard it before – earlier that day in fact. “What is it?”

And then she was frozen to the spot, her mouth hanging open and glad a majority of the people in that room had moved to the pool area.

“You.”

“You.” His eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, heat flooding her cheeks as she approached him.

“Cleaning,” he squeaked, his face turning pink very quickly.

She blinked, then looked down at the empty trash bag in his hands and connected the dots.

“Did you know I’d be here?”

“What?! No!” He paused, his voice going deeper. “No.”

Her lips twitched. “You came to a party just to clean?” she teased, pulling the bag free from his hands.

“I…uh, don’t want to get drunk,” he explained, his eyes flickering to hers for just a moment before he tried to figure out what to do with his hands now that there was nothing in them.

“I see.” She smirked.

Setting down the two bags along the wall, she took one of his sweaty hands and pulled him with her.

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, his heart racing a mile a minute in his chest.

“You’ll see.”

“I’m really sorry, by the way,” he said as they stopped by multiple rooms, stopping for her to see if someone was inside and then continuing down the hall when there was.

“For what?” she said, oblivious again – or sounding that way at least.

“For this afternoon,” he said, as if it were obvious.

He tried very, very hard not to squeak his answer. To his credit, it was less squeaky than the previous time.

“I did not know you were gonna be there,” he said adamantly. “Much less that you would be…”

She paused, knocking on the last door at the end of the hall, smiling brilliantly when she looked inside and found it empty.

“Getting myself off?”

He gasped, his mind going blank as she pulled him into the room, closed and locked it behind them and pulled him down for a kiss.

Time stopped.

Anything outside the room no longer mattered.

All that existed for Barry Allen was Iris’ hands on his face and her lips on his as she urged him to kiss her back.

“W-W-Wait,” he said, pulling away just as his lips had started to respond.

“What? You don’t want to?” she asked, grumpily hurt by the rejection.

“No-no-no, of course, I want to,” he hurried to assure her. “It’s just…” He licked his lips. “You’re not mad?”

She laughed. “About this afternoon?”

He nodded timidly.

“No. Why would I be? It’s not like you were stalking me.” She pulled him down to her again and sealed their lips with a kiss. “Were you?” she teasingly whispered.

“No, ma’am,” he murmured into the kiss, and she smiled.

“If you’re feeling guilty, though, I have a solution,” she said, starting to unbutton his shirt as she kissed his neck.

“What’s that?” he asked, his mind dizzy with sensation.

She kissed him a while longer, driving him mad with the feel of her lips on his and their tongues tangling as she pressed her body to his and brought his hands to all the curves she wanted touched after so long.

“You could fuck me,” she said, her tongue swirling around one of his nipples as she finally peeled his shirt off.

“Huh?”

“Fuck me.” She grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Or have you not been imagining it as much as I have all afternoon?”

He could hardly breathe. He should’ve known she was bold, given what she’d been doing where and with what, and he was feeling just as motivated. When Cisco had gone out to hand off the goat to Caitlin, he’d hightailed it to his bedroom and gotten off twice – first to the vision of Iris masturbating and then to the idea of them fucking against the bookcase that miraculously wasn’t knocked over in the process. Things were perfect like that in fantasies.

But for how badly he wanted this, and he did want it, it just felt a little too…fast. And a little like if he gave in to it, he’d never see her again and she’d pretend it had never happened.

“I have.” He swallowed.

“Thought so.”

She stuck her hand in his boxers and squeezed his already semi-hard cock.

“Iris.” He shuddered.

“Bed’s over there.” She urged him backwards, and unable to think clearly once again, he let her for a few steps.

“W-Wait.” He sucked in a breath. “Stop.”

“What is it?” she whined, then laughed, indulging him. “There are condoms in the bedside table, if that’s what you’re worried about. Linda and I stocked up.”

He snorted. “That’s not what…”

“Then what?”

“Aren’t we moving a little too fast?” he asked, holding his breath that she wouldn’t react negatively to the question.

Of course, he was not so lucky.

“How much slower should we be moving for a one-night stand?” she asked, sounding amused but the thread of impatience and irritation was clear in her voice, as much as she tried to stifle it.

He went cold, a chill ripping down his spine, though in the back of his mind he knew he should’ve expected it. Someone as stunning as Iris would probably never give him a second glance when actually considering a serious relationship.

Sometimes he wished he was capable of wanting one-night stands, but they always made him feel guilty. And he always wanted more. Probably why neither of his two girlfriends had lasted very long. His need for an emotional connection was fast and apparent even in the early stages.

“Is that all this is to you?” he asked softly.

Her arms dropped from around his neck, and he knew the mood was broken. He’d killed it.

“Yeah.” She blew hair out of her eyes. “That’s all it was going to be.”

She took a step back, straightened out her outfit and headed for the door.

“Wait, Iris-”

“Too late, book boy. I’m emotionally unavailable.”

And with that, she scoffed, left the room, and left him half-undressed and already heartbroken.

Which was ridiculous, since he hardly knew her.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #fics for icons #for iriswestallenhuh #nsfw-ish #sex next chap for sure lol

49 notes · View notes

elliot-orion · 5 years

Text

What the Fuck Even is IN the DHU?

Finally! The last part in this little “what the fuck” worldbuilding series! This is just going to be a quick refresh for everyone on all the lil and big stories in the DHU that i’ve got written/partly written/planned, as more of a masterpost than a real worldbuilding post. I’m not including absolutely everything bc there are plenty things that are just half baked ideas, so these are only the big ones with enough development to call a story really. If you want to catch up on the series, check here: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Let’s go!

Sparks Fly: The matriarch story of this whole disaster. 3 not so upstanding members of society fall in love and sort of save the world, idk, it’s chaotic. This is where Sparky, Hall, and Scout are from, which i throw in bc i talk about Sparky far too much. It’s a full sized novel, and i just finished Draft 3.

Sing For Me: #2 of the 3 full sized novels, as of writing this post of course. Villain falls in love with Hero, terribly angsty, the works. It’s kinda paused indefinitely bc of reasons and also it just kind of sucks and needs Lots Of WorkTM.

Oliver’s Story: #3 of the full sized novels. Currently untitled, but it’s about Oliver, the Time Elemental, and All His Shit bc the boy is a disaster. 95% about how shitty the SA is, 5% about how fucking cute Spencer and Oliver are about. Angsty as fuck.

The shorter stories/novellas/stories of undetermined length below cut!

All The Dead and Dying Things: a completed story about 20,000 ish words that featured on the briefly lived side blog i made for the DHU. It sucked but i loved the characters, so i might edit it up a bit and post it on WattPad at some point, probably won’t, its up in the air. It was about a Villain Mob Boss and his boy toy Hero who was betrayed by the SA when they found out he was dating Villain Mob Boss, with the side plot of a couple others in the gang (boy toy makes it sound bad sorry, they are grossly in love and cute as fuck).

Hell in High Heels: The other completed story that featured on that side blog before i shut the thing down. Sucked less than Dead and Dying, but wasn’t great. This one was about badass 1940s lesbians, and also about how shitty the SA is. It’s an ongoing theme. I took this down with the side blog, so you can’t read it right now, same with the above, but it might go on WattPad. This is more likely to go up than Dead and Dying.

Wildfire: Wildfire is the story that was going to go on the side blog after those two ran out, but i shut the blog down before this could go up. It’s about the Fire Elemental, Blaise (yea i know the name is cheesy, the SA gave it to him ok), and his struggles with the SA, bc half my stories are about that tbh. It was poetic as fuck and actually pretty well written? i loved writing it so much. It’s never been shared, and i’ve never really talked about it either, but it’s finished and everything so there’s that. This one likely will go on WattPad at some point in time.

Morty Heart: Now we move onto the more tentatively planned stories in the DHU. Morty Heart is the Death Elemental, and i’ve got like 3 plot lines/stories proposed for him but have not decided which i will actually do and when i shall do them. But he’s cool.

Lily Pad Inn: This is a story ive been trying and failing to write for like, a year, but there is absolutely no plot involved, it is just a Soft Thing, so it’s not going anywhere. Basically there is this absolute sunshine boy named Matty, who isn’t a Super, but who creates an inn that is a haven for Villains to find peace and a family for a while. He’s an ICON and i love him and his family.

There are also vague “we should do that at some point” ideas, like a coffee shop au story that was meant to show civilian Super’s lives, but also others with Baz, the Sparks Fly triad’s son, and another with Winry and Anna Grace, two kiddos in the Dead and Dying story. Basically, Gen 2 of the DHU. And various short stories/one shots, like one for Poison and Sparky when he was young. Those won’t happen for a VERY long time though.

But, uh... now you know why when i talk about this world i say it is MASSIVE AS FUCK, bc this isnt even close to the comprehensive list of all the ideas ive had for this world. Looking at my notes, there are at least 9 half ideas i haven’t brought up, that range from a one shot to having the possibility of being a full novel. So yea.

If you have any questions about any of these stories, feel free to ask them! all the ones listed here i have a ton of info on and would love to infodump!! Also if there is more stuff you want to know about the DHU, i can extend this series if needed. But that’s all for now folks!

@albatris @ageekyreader @dreamcontagion @ashesconstellation @merigreenleaf @piscesintherain @norawritess @knightedwriter @shadow-maker @samplewriting A SIDE NOTE: More Hell than Hero does NOT actually take place in the DHU. It is an extremely similar universe and i was really a dumbass for not putting it in the DHU, and like, if i work on that again it will be shifted into the DHU, but as of now, it isn’t actually a part of this so it isn’t listed. :p

#the only reason it wasnt in the DHU was because i didnt want to work in the explanations of the dark heart #and just wanted superheroes to go unquestioned like in other things #so yea #im a dumbass #worldbuilding #dark heart universe #dhu #sparks fly #morty heart #sing for me #lily pad inn

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kdtheghostwriter · 5 years

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SNK 113 - Ruthless Aggression

(A strange light fills the forest. Twilight is shining through the leaves. It seems the journey is finally over.)

(Levi is filled with DETERMINATION.)

The people who pick this story up after it’s been completed will enjoy it so much better than some of those reading it month-to-month. Those who get to read it in one go will in no way believe that Levi - humanity’s strongest soldier - surrounded by high anchor points in the Forest of Big Ass Trees, armed with a full tank of gas and a full stock of blades could ever lose a fight to Zeke or any amount of Titans.

Upon his return to Marley, Zeke hoped and prayed to the gods he doesn’t believe in that he would never see an Ackerman ever again. Now you see why. Zeke fights an Ackerman; Zeke goes splat.

I’d like to introduce to you the concept of ‘reads.’ Many of you are no doubt familiar. For those that aren’t: it’s the concept of predicting your opponent’s next action based upon whatever habits you have perceived from them. This concept is relevant in every kind of sporting event but also in video games and even chess, where much of a player’s moves are determined by the characteristics of whatever piece they are using.

TL;DR – Zeke attempted a hard read on Levi and got exposed.

If Zeke was anything more than a disconnected third party – if he had lived in the hell the Survey Core has known for years – he would have known better than to tempt Levi with a choice of morality. Levi Ackerman came from nothing. Born in the underground amongst outlaws, raised by a serial killer to be stronger than his frame would allow. Levi has done many heroic deeds, but no one, not even his colleagues in the military, would confuse him for a hero. Not in the classic sense anyway.

Think about Batman. DC Comics’ most enduring icon, he has been in publication for more than eight decades. He has to his name some of the most daring feats in fiction (including beating the shit out of Superman, repeatedly) but is he a hero, though?

Sadfleck is right! Bruce is a “good guy” by all accounts. He fights villains and saves his hometown. And he does so in highly illegal fashion. Levi is quite similar. He’s a vigilante with diplomatic immunity, that is unless I imagined the whole military coup to overthrow the puppet monarchy. The famous panel of Levi forgoing his humanity as Armin has so often referenced has been reposted too often to count, but it’s the most important one to his character. We know for a fact that Levi’s empathy is his defining trait; however, people like Zeke mistake that empathy for all-around goodness.

Levi is a good soldier that does horrid things, but he does those things in the interest of completing his goal, which usually involves saving as many innocents as possible. Thus, when you give him the choice of killing his comrades or dying and failing his mission, there is no choice anymore. You didn’t stop him. You didn’t even slow him down. All you did was make him mad. An angry Ackerman is scarier than any giant.

(Hanji feels like they are going to have a bad time.)

Again, I’ll say: Hanji Zoe was the right and only choice to succeed Erwin. I’ll add to that this chapter by saying that Keith Shadis wasn’t as bad as he thinks he was. Just unremarkable. Erwin’s scouting tactics were a stroke of genius that only a gifted mind could have devised. For the last decade, Shadis has been carrying the weight of his shortcoming and punishing himself. It’s why he doesn’t reprimand the students in the newly minted 109th Squad who brazenly call him obsolete for the entire class to hear. It makes the following interaction very interesting.

Floch Forster and the Jaegerists (what a punk band that would be) storm into the hall in order to recruit the graduated soldiers to their cause. Floch gives them the Durden-esque task of assaulting their instructor Shadis until he can’t stand. What I find interesting here is Shadis’ reaction. Hanji does their best to defuse the situation, and the rookies even look hesitant about attacking. That is until Shadis provokes them, and they brutalize him in a fit of rage. Is this the retribution that Shadis has been seeking all along?

If Eren is the Heel who thinks he’s the Face and Zeke is the monster Heel that destroys everyone (except his rival, lol), then Floch is the classic chicken shit Heel that gets all his confidence from hiding behind his meal ticket. It is a classic archetype that precedes wrestling by many centuries and Isayama has executed it to perfection with Floch. So over-the-top and dastardly. No person could be this mean unless they were written to do so. It makes the eventual comeuppance that much more satisfying when it happens.

We finally have a name to put with the face we’ve seen in past flashbacks. The previous owner of Zeke’s glasses whom I must assume is the previous holder of the Beast Titan based upon the impromptu game of catch. In a pain-filled haze, Zeke recalls his sensei and tells him to wait, as he still must complete his mission. You can imagine that sentiment extends to his half-brother as well.

If that’s not Archvillain Energy, I don’t know what is.

Stray Thoughts

- We got a new tally of all the people under Zeke’s influence. Spoilers: it’s a high number. Falco is included, Hanji is not. Not only did she avoid the wine but it also tells me that Onyankopon is legit (for now at least).

- Floch apparently had this little revenge planned for Shadis from the rip. Add “petty af” to his long list of offenses.

- We still don’t know everything about how P A T H S work. Given that Zeke is royalty and Eren is related, there is at least a slim chance the next chapter ends with the older brother being tracked and his sibling showing up at whatever location Levi is taking him.

- The 104th has been detained and imprisoned. We see them in varying states of discouragement and sadness - except for Mikasa, whose face is hidden entirely. Big yikes.

- The Queen is a ticking time bomb in more ways than one. Her status and well-being means nothing less than the future survival of Paradis. If that’s where Levi is headed, boy is he in for a Soo-Prise.

#snk meta #shingeki no spoilers #snk 113 #levi ackerman #hanji zoë #floch forster #keith shadis #zeke jaeger #eren jaeger #the jaeger faction #meanwhile in eren's head

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kilshade · 5 years

Text

rules: answer these questions and tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better!

tagged by: @hostilewitness-ao3ヽ(﹡⌒ｖ⌒﹡)ノ

nickname: Kat, Kureel, Kasey, It really depends who is addressing me and how long they’ve known me.

zodiac: Leo

height: 5′3″ with my shoes on.. (I don’t wear heels.)

time: 9:53pm

favorite band/artist: Paradise Lost is #1, but I love so many. Disturbed, Eisbrecher, and Five Finger Death Punch top the list.

song stuck in my head: I received this tag on the ONLY day I don’t have at least one song stuck in my head.. so here’s the last one: ”Black Bus” - Electric Hellfire Club

last movie I saw: I last saw two in one day, but technically How to Train your Dragon 3 was the last one. It was bittersweet :[ (Other was Captain Marvel. It rocked.)

last thing I googled: Anata (Japanese for Darling, wanted to make sure I was using and spelling it correctly)

other blogs: Aliit Banehollow & Twitter (I don’t post much on either)

do I get asks: 3 in the last year. My ask box is full of dust.

why did I choose this username: Kilshade is an original OC. I chose it because she’s the best friend of another OC whose name I use all over the place. I wanted a different name so y’all couldn’t track me down :P

following: Tumblrs or subjects? World of Warcraft, Overwatch, SWTOR. Lots of art blogs, a few fanfic blogs.

average amount of sleep: 8-10hrs.

lucky number: 5

what am I wearing: Long sleeve Harley Davidson shirt over a black tank top, Fuzzy black sleep pants with skull & crossbones all over. (and super comfy knee high socks!)

dream job: I.. have no answer for this. I’m too old and infirm for it. lol. On a good day, I’d like something like.. location scout. Getting paid to travel the world and look at pretty sites.

dream trip: I always wanted to go to Australia, till I learned that everything wants to kill you.. My back ups are Stonehenge and Norway. Gimme those beautiful Norwegian forests!

favorite food: Tacos and Miso soup. <3

play any instruments: Flute. I can pretend to play a bass guitar. (I’ve owned one for 30 years, you’d THINK I’d have learned to play the damn thing!)

eye color: Dark brown

hair color: Right side is purple, left side is blue. Natural hair color? Brown

describe yourself as an aesthetic: Serene forests with a river. (That’s my preferred Aesthetic, I have no idea how to describe myself with one.)

languages you speak: English, Spanish, and enough German to be understood. (Even if I’m speaking like a toddler)

most iconic song: to ME? This is my damn theme song: Sleeping my Day Away - D.A.D. (This one is pretty iconic to me too:"Rain will Fall" - I Mother Earth

random fact: I love driving. 12 hour trip? No problem!

tagging: Uhm.. I have no idea who to tag. Want to answer? Consider yourself tagged! (Yes, that means you! )

#Thank you so much for the tag!#rl stuff #about me

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isakwon · 6 years

Text

Coffee Bean (Extinct) Part 4

Pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Romance & Angst

Word Count: 4.2k

Coffee Bean Masterlist

Summary: It’s believed the Red String of Fate can tangle and make annoying knots, but it can never break. But can it become untied from one person on either end?

“What?” Chanyeol lifts himself up off the ground. “What is he babbling about?” He reads the text again puzzling and puzzling what this evening suddenly bringing.

Messages

[From] Lay: Actually you’re going on a blind date.

He closes the shoe box of letters and placed them back into their hiding place then exiting the storage closet. Chanyeol drags his feet down the hall tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. His face gets lit up even brighter by the bright screen the more furrowed he kept his eyebrows rereading the text banner just making sure he is reading correctly. Expecting for another banner to pop up beneath about the message sent as an error meant for another person.

The text box words were as clear as the sky showing off through the windows, as well as the questioning punctuation that followed afterwards. Yixing knows about his marriage, hell he had been sent an invitation. Chanyeol stopped his tracks as he reached the master doorframe peeping into the room sort of leaning forward to the opposite side. His wife slept facing the framed photos occupying her side, the sheets covering half her silky covered body.

...

“What did you send him?” Yixing parts his lips with his widened eyes getting the phone back from Sehun but the phone keeps getting gestured from him.

“I think Chanyeol should see Y/N. So he sees the person Y/N became after leaving her first. They’ve been apart long enough.” Yixing quirks his brow upwards. Three weeks since moving to South Korea Sehun shut the door in front of Chanyeol multiple times and his one sided anger lasted long enough for believing Sehun completely lost respect.

“This whole time I thought you hated Chanyeol. When Y/N boarded the plane, you nagged over him because he didn’t come to stop her.” Yixing says, killing a growing smirk. The phone makes a high dinging sound grabbing their chins down.

Messages

[From] Chanyeol: Yixing, where are you and please wait about an hour. I’ll come get you.

Sehun rolls his eyes while forcing down amused snickers thinking about suspected number of times Chanyeol must’ve received drunk texts. It made sense for the assumption about suggesting dates to a married person being drunk texting except for one you and the boys didn’t order drinks and two; Sehun’s idea comes out with pure sobeirity.

[Sent] Yixing: I’m not drunk, thanks for asking. -_- Can you make time in the afternoon to meet? Just dressed casually.

“There’s always been mixed emotions towards him.” Sehun said. “Even way before romance was building with Y/N, Chan had always been my closest friend.”

[From] Chanyeol: Hyung, I most definitely don’t need any dates, Somil will be shocked. You know, Somil, my wife. You remember I’m married don’t you?

On the wedding day, Yixing attended the surprise reception during the daytime. He wore a dark gray blazer hanging open dangling beside his waist with the white crew collar unbuttoned. He had his hand in his pocket while holding a glass with the other staying in his seat until the newlyweds arrived.

[Sent] Yixing: Not exactly a blind date. It’s more likely an eat out. she finds you charming and wants to start off developing friendship.

“Sehun, with Y/N it’s easy for her to hang out,” Yixing says. “Especially now, but Chanyeol’s been working nonstop. And the holidays are the busiest times for him he doesn’t have the time. That company has become something he lives and breathes now.”

“Baekhyun knows Chanyeol still stops by Cafe Cicero. Y/N wouldn’t have been there that long unless there’s still an ounce-” The phone rings again.

[Sent] P. Chanyeol: Sounds more like she’s interested in a special bonus that never exist.

The boys knew that that morning you waited while sitting and waited sitting down until you left disappointed about letting hopes high of meeting Chanyeol again. They didn’t ask that you saw Chanyeol since they assumed you’d rather not talk about nothing happening. They knew you payed a visit there, but they were still pretty shocked how long you said the wait lasted but they didn’t see bother you hid. You arrived arms full with plastic bags filled with Christmas paper and bows along with favorite snacks for self satisfaction.

[Sent] Yixing: That’s why I referred you. If she impresses you, like she wants then she’ll be on the roadway to her journey already. So it’s more of a business blind date.

[From] P. Chanyeol: Xing, since this person wants to be a superstar model, she can start off scheduling an appointment professionally. Besides scouting off the street isn’t my department, just tell her Impresa is not the love connection where the ‘charming’ boss falls for the outcast trainee out of dozens. It’s not that kind of movie.

Sehun quirks his brow. “He indifferences reality with fictions towards us yet he’s used Japanese myths upon Y/N with him so neither would have to worry about losing their happily ever after despite there being no chance.”

Yixing sucks on his lips and stays silent. He didn’t necessarily see a response to argue with towards that comment.

[From] Lay: Yeol, honestly the models already working there never tried, they’d fall too far within heels trying to catch your eye.

The read text message turns lips further down the chin. Admittedly, that wasn’t much an insult more less a joke.

[Sent] Chanyeol: Stay where you are, I’m heading downstairs, getting in the car, coming to get you. I’m calling Junmyeon see if he’s still awake.

Heat rushes Sehun to his head.

[Sent] Yixing: God damn it Chan honestly you’re not-just- look can’t you just see the girl?

Now he was fully convinced Yixing isn’t drunk and literally suggests him going behind backs over for blind dating. Why was he even texting this when he went to the wedding reception? Not only Lay, his friends knew the attitude Chanyeol’s Father-in-law can get just by hearing ‘rumors’ including his normal facial expressions.

[Sent] Chanyeol: Lay, it may have been long since we last seen each other but you haven’t woken up from a coma. I gotten married since you don’t seem to remember, so tell this girl exactly what I said before.

“Hyung, there’s not much we can do for making Chanyeol come see us now. Even with Y/N here...it’s time for both of them to move on with their lives like they should’ve long ago. Chanyeol has to accept settling down with his wife and Y/N should wait for someone she will really fall deeply in the end.”

“Their strings…”

“Once myths lose their place in reality, they lose their place in the future. Once Chanyeol and Y/N lost their vow, that dispersed when he became sidetracked.”

Yixing sinks his teeth on his bottom lip as silence replaces the dispute between them, feeling the soft shoulder rubs from Sehun’s hand. It’s most likely Chanyeol isn’t going to see you during your short visit at all. The men stood above the family sized table just in time to eat food served on hot plates. Your lips form a perfect half moon smile over you as you lift your head to both Yixing and Sehun which they return automatic grins. He nudges on Baekhyun’s elbow sitting himself down on the bench.

“Oh Sehun, Baekhyun and I are going to see this new movie coming out and we were wondering if you wanted to come?” You asked.

“Sure, what movie is it?”

“Murder On The Orient Express’.”

The nineteen seventy-four film remake based off the novel starring another broadway fellow of yours seemed intriguing and their soundtrack has mixed reactions using modern music over classical yet the song was fitting enough for your taste. Surprisingly, Jongin saw the trailer before showing Baekhyun and you made plans for watching the movie. “Why did you take so long?”

Sehun rose his brows towards Jongin asking him the question. All Sehun could say came out stuttering until Jongin suggested something that threw Sehun, Yixing and the rest of the table off. They shake their heads vigorously, “Stop it. Don’t try to bring out your extra freaky side.” You muffled your laughter seeing Jongin get punched in the rib.

....

The cell phone stopped vibrating with popup message banners, implying the weird conversation was over so Chanyeol sets his phone on the glass table with a click. He sat still, sinking his teeth down his bottom lip before falling on his back and his rolling eyes, throwing his arms above his head the lamps dangling from the ceiling providing the most light in the room. The condo is quiet with exception of overly repeated Christmas music playing at low volume and sheets ruffling heard from the master room. He relaxes on the couch letting his muscles stretch enjoying the momentary peace for the first time the entire month. Nobody under the model agencies knew Chanyeol until the betrothal was announced then beaming eyes adorned upon the young couple and the bride’s Father. For every special occasion; anniversaries, birthdays, New Year parties, Chanyeol received many gifts from strangers familiar and employed with his Father-in-law. Suddenly he had golden diamond watches, diamond wristlets, real leather skinned wallets. He stored the fancy crafted accessories hanging with his brand new clothes of seasonal line neatly on a clear jewelry rack rarely ever used.

His father-in-law once gifted Chanyeol and his daughter the newest model cell phones that hadn’t been released for Chuseok. She kept her same number yet Chanyeol number did change and they were on family plan. He was shaded with his Father in Law’s glare one day when he received a quite lengthy phone bill appearing in his email, surprised with long distance calls sided next to Chanyeol’s new number. He was only mad because accordingly there’s no reason for communication with the other side of the world and his mother was Chanyeol’s only family. That was when the secret video calling was put to an end instead they began exchanging letters to each other.

He was kinda old-fashioned with it and she can send Chanyeol her sketches she did for her spare time. She never mailed them anywhere else but his old address. The paragraphs grew longer lengthening his poems into Cathedrals, sometimes he taped flower petals atop separate index postal cards, for “lightening” up his letters.

Every single memory are kept all in the back of his mind, cherished more as years ran with time that never healed. He wondered if you still love like he does the same way when large knots stayed off your past relationship. A love like that lacks chance with distance and forced marriage keeping pairs apart. Some reminiscing the failed attempted all-nighters which resulted sleeping anywhere in the house.

.....

He had found you laying your head on scattered papers with Korean Hangul on top the kitchen counter. He remembers how the sleeves on your sweater covered your palms like the messy hair web you used for a pillow he patted with his fingers and lowered his head closer.

“There you go drooling pools again.” As if you had heard him in your sleep, you backhanded his forehead. Once you woke up you panic over the accidental smack asking a hysterical laughing Chanyeol three times if he was okay holding his bangs down. So many events spent together were inked down the letters also he grew rose buds on his cheeks whenever he read a flirty paragraph filled with passion. Your letters were worth waiting until evening reading them until finding himself staring the dark blue sky. Some nights spent the same routine different scriptions writing nightly over unknown months that only felt timeless until one day your letters responses suddenly stopped arriving.

He remembers standing alone the room, straightening his tuxedo vest then scanning over his physique.

....

His reflection his deep brown eyes he lifted the framed photo under the lamp on his bedside table. The photo was of you, him, and, his mother standing on top a bridge when a frisk misty weather seemed liked the perfect day for hiking. In the photo Chanyeol smiled like a beacon from cheek to cheek whereas showed the fat in his eye bags that you always loved. You too smiled widely from cheek to cheek while Chanyeol wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you closer while resting his chin on his Mom’s shoulder. Like any committed pair, the hope was for life and the relationship meant a whole lot and Chanyeol knew that whenever you were together all he could think about was you.

Part of him thanked how you weren’t there to see him holding hands with someone who wasn’t you while another part thinking how cursed he felt having his new life with his new marriage entirely unplanned. The picture had also been taken during the time before his mother began feeling weak. He lifted his wet index finger off the glass before raising them to the bridge of his nose smudged smiles.

The minute the wedding march began playing, guests rose from their seats for the bride to make her appearance. She looked as beautiful as she is always, even with no traditional wedding dress and all natural makeup. She stunned those of the same social class within seconds once again even Chanyeol was stunned. His fiancé held Chanyeol’s hand while signing the license and she felt warm like she was using her touch to thaw his, however his heart continued to feel frostbitten. He didn’t know if she was looking at him or if she could see the expression through his eyes, no one figured all that was happening was excessively hard for Chanyeol. He was learning well fighting his feelings keeping them hidden.

Hours grew long once the reception officially ended, driving the SUV into the darkest evening as he never turned away from the tinted SUV windows, though his brain clouded over the only person living in his heart. The one who wrote him beautiful castillo letters and rested her head above his shoulder for resting eyes. The one he now had to call past lover. He never tore himself away from thinking about you the entire limousine ride.

“That’s it that’s final.” He whispers aloud to himself rubbing his eyes. “Everything needs to stop, this time for good....you probably fell out of love with me Y/N.”

....

Baekhyun finally puts the phone down and grips the ignition watching the red light hovered over you. You were driving to the movie theaters looking out the window at mystic wet weather. His cell phone kept ringing and he was doing his best to pay no mind at all. Anything as little as texting normally doesn’t bother you, but in South Korea texting and driving is certainly illegal and at the moment slightly more dangerous since morning news reported possible ice on the road, it got you worried. His phone chimed again and the conversation had been paused again to allow his thumbs continue skipping over the screen, luckily the car was stopped at a red light.

You look out the window the clouds are bunched up, not a single speck of sun poking through, it was dull and moist from pre rainfall and the sky had three shades of gray above your heads. From dark gray, steel gray, and gainsboro gray. To you, this is a beautiful day since this sort of weather is your most favorite.

“Sorry Y/N, this friend of mine needed advice on winning his blind date’s heart. I swear, texting isn’t in my daily driving routine but he won’t quit begging.”

“That friend should shop for some shreds of patience for himself this Holiday season. Your life is too precious to waste in fatal car accidents.” Baekhyun chuckles, he missed your little concerns whenever the boys did something that doesn’t seem right especially when they consume too much energy drinks before work.

The rain kept coming and going since twilight, for the moment the rain stopped, the pavements are moist where pedestrians carried umbrellas around, some with children wearing brightly colored raincoats. He was still ears hungry about your rapid stardom success how the acting came off Broadway transitioning through the screen onto dramas and guest appearances on reality shows meeting stars through classes and mutuals. It’s like they’ll never get tired anytime soon even though you shared nearly everything your career worked on.

The crosswalks you cruised around seemed familiar, just as much as the domain building turned your chin sideways when Baekhyun pulled into the parking spot. “Baek, what are we doing here? Aren’t we meeting the guys at the movies?”

He leaves the driving gear beside the ‘P’ label then the shaking stops in the passenger seat as Baekhyun tugs the keys out the ignition. He’s already waiting for you beside the entrance running his hands up and down his shivering arms soon after you quickly follow him in the cafe lobby, opening the bell ringing door. “We are, I just wanted something warm on the way. Also I need to use the restroom you go ahead and order whatever you want.”

The line was short with only three people excluding the both of you, the place had more decorations with shiny garlands hung over the menu with ornaments on either ends and imitation snow fogging the windows from the inside. Few guests occupied the place and none of them seemed like they were rushing home. As the time was slowly fading into evening and the insane breezes made temperature drop lower minute by minute you were still rubbing your knees together to run out remaining chills shivering through your legs.

Back over in Korea, the area still has quilts of heavy snow and revering winds, not as heavy as New York breezes though. You really enjoyed winter when it comes around as long you didn’t stay outside for too long. After ordering drinks and bags of chips you took a seat at the same table from last time beside the wall length windows. Aside from you and the few employees, across the room someone dressed in a seemingly cozy blazer stood at the other side of the room dressed neatly, tapping and fingers drawing over a tablet. He stood next to a table with book bag and a the cell phone model laid across.

As you rose up the chair to get your hot chocolate, your string looked brighter around your finger as did the small metallic beads below the knot. You began to wonder again, how would Chanyeol react seeing you wearing something he made himself with such meaning. Resembling fate and the love you had for each other, the tied knot that strengthened the promise of staying together.

How many more memories are going to replay through your mind? All you have left are memories you shared with Chanyeol. The sky was no longer bright grey, now the foreground was dark enough to being nearly black. Heavy rainfall with occasional thunderstorms were looking scary standing outside getting soaked watching him fight with an umbrella.

....

“Oh my gosh, babe, can you hurry up? It’s cold.”

“Don’t you see me going as fast as I can to get this damn button loose while my nads freezing themselves?” You did the most not allowing his attitude towards you bother too much that day cause you were reaching your point of being outside any longer. You liked cold weather but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to freeze to death. He wanted to walk through Central Park for the first beautiful spring weeks but maybe that day one of you should’ve checked the weather. Chanyeol determine to get the umbrella unstuck.

His sleeves already drenched and water droplets hanging on his ears. A drop sped down his neck from his little baby hairs that then disappear under his sewn in hoodie. His hoodie that he probably forgot he had since he wasn’t raising over his head. You could feel your pants sticking against your thighs, your shoes started to feel flooded as the soles were squeaking.

“Know what I’m walking inside the next nearest store. You sure you don’t want me to try?” He stops your hand reaching insisting him to try on his own. Just then black and gray swirls shot open with a pop to widen four eyes by surprise. The umbrella was open now. Chanyeol self cheers for fixing his umbrella without breaking it miraculously. Most hair on your heads curled and crunched up getting wetter by the minute. “There’s still three minutes for the bus jagiya, hold-shit!”

The umbrella caused more problems when the shade turned inside out as wind started blowing. You released a high pitched yelp as the edges almost slapped you. Chanyeol holds the handle firmly so the umbrella would stay in them and he tries fixing another problem. “God damn it Y/N, that’s it! No more umbrellas from now on I’m using raincoats.”

He tries fixing the umbrella again despite already getting more annoyed especially by simply standing outside during heavy rainfall getting more than soaking wet. The spokes screeched as they bumped against smooth polyester fingers pinching it as Chanyeol pressed knees held the stem. You wanted to help your boyfriend more than going inside shelter then.

“See?” Left hands at the base then lo and behold, the umbrella unfolds itself.

“Ah! Thanks love, but we’re not shopping together anymore.” His cocky smirk felt like the ends of your hair tickling your chin when your head turn side to side. More water sprinkles upwards from the umbrella being flashed with top row of teeth before you Chanyeol bringing the smile closer.

“Really? That’s what you learned?”

Still wet, the rain stopped over the spot and you couldn’t help the returning smile. One thing you learned that day was Park Chanyeol has had you feeling helpless with love and the skys the limit.

....

You shake the memories out of your head and turn to the clock checking the time. You gaze towards the hall down to the restroom, thinking what was taking him so long to use the restroom? Glancing over towards the corridor that lead the restroom while combing a curtain of your hair back.

....

His palms molded onto yours warm against creases and prints on each other you squeeze his hand intertwined with your fingers. One second before either of you knew it, you’re walking slowly backwards, indulging on the deepening kiss, bringing locked hands close to the chest. Chanyeol held you against the wall he knew you would miss the softness of him though with him leaning into your hand like leaving longning traces of his skin. He knew you’d miss him caressing half-circles over your temples, escaping mewls leaving him blush red, his eyes burning out trails that were cut short by your thumb brushing them away. He only once slightly lifts his eyelids before fluttering them shut, using his fingers to sooth the curve on the back of your head before tangling messily in your hair. You pull away and let him lean his forehead against yours breathing for air.

Chanyeol’s eyebrows knitted together acknowledging how much you would miss any more from him now that all of Chanyeol would no longer be yours.

“I’m sorry.” He ghosts your lips. “I really am sorry.”

You laid on top of your bed, listening to the similar rhythmic thumping sound while resting against Chanyeol’s chest both hugging each other’s middle tight steaming skin under the fabric of your thermal blanket.

An unbearable pain forms in the back of your throat and right down the middle of your chest looking out the raindrops on the window. Everything around you was still, vehicles honking were inaudible through the glass windows with some tires burning. Darker shades above the sky seemed like rain would start falling soon, admiring the scene outside, trying to block the flashbacks out, holding the chairs’ back.You picked up the pace from the table to the restroom urgently. Where was your mind when the emotions in your heart are taking all control?

....

He was messing with a lock of your hair closing and opening his eyes, there was nothing good enough to calm him down besides the position at the moment. Sleep skipped your apartment at the time, instead the moon hovered in front of a dark blue sky shining through the window. Both you thanked heavens no one else knew any of your whereabouts even with how wrong it was.

“Why won’t you say it?” He murmurs onto your forehead and you say in shortcut breaths. “I want to Yeolie…”

“Are you okay?” Could everything be one hundred percent sure, despite standing centimeters away from you right after accidentally bumping into his side and leaving him soaked. Your feet are rooted down onto the spot holding you still.

His mouth opens and closes like there was something he had been wanting to say. He was reflecting the same image you’re portraying wide eyed, forgetting the spill. Something wanting to come out when there are really no words. The light illuminated over his entire figure towering over you, re-enacting how high you lifted your chin to look at him. The gloss in his eyes made him seem like he was on the brink of tears and so were you.

You inhale deeply, “Chanyeol.”

“Do I know you?”

....

But you’re not mine anymore.

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