#songbird's hand around his waist... what if I died | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asterias-record-shop · 7 months

Note

Hello, I wanted to ask if your fic requests are still open? Cos I please want to ask for a Finnick Odair x reader involving major character death

So the reader's personality is somewhat similar to Lucy Gray Baird, ( if you have read A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes). Also, I'd like her to be a victor from District 5. Because of her voice, Snow often has her sing at the capitol. She and Finnick often run into each other because of frequently having to be at the capitol, so they develop a relationship and start seeing each other romantically in secret.

Then, she later on joins the rebellion but ends up getting murdered by lizard mutts in the Mockingjay timeline because she chose to sacrifice herself during that mission. So it's the reader who dies instead of Finnick

If you want to skip this request, then that's okay. But thank you, if you'd like to take it.

Also, the one shot would be inspired by the song Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince by Taylor swift

╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮

— a dream is a wish

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

I am so sorry if this is bad, I’ve never been the best at writing angst. Im not proud of it, but i didn’t want to not try :)

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪

Finnick wasn’t sure where you had gotten the song you sang to your son. The Capitol had gotten rid of everything that gave knowledge of the old world, but you sang a song that you had heard from a movie.

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,” you sang, humming continuously as you slowly swayed in your all black tactical gear. He didn’t want you to go, he hated the thought of you going. He just couldn’t get you to stay. “When you’re fast asleep, in your dreams you’ll lose your heartache…”

“Y/N,” Finnick spoke as you smiled back at him. “You… you shouldn’t come.”

You continue to hum, swaying as you slowly set down your son. “Effie said she would watch Alexei. Everything will be fine.”

Finnick shook his head, sighing. “What if… what if something happens? You know we said that someone always stays when we go on missions.”

“Do you think I’d sit this out?” You ask, turning around. “Finnick, nothing will happen, I swear,” you whisper, cupping his face as he leaned down to kiss your wrist. “We said we’d do everything together too, remember? In our vows, we swore.”

“Not when I could lose you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse as he holds your forearm delicately. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you press a firm kiss to his lips, shaking your head. “I said I’d follow you anywhere and everywhere, remember? No matter what.”

He inhaled shakily, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead to yours. “Please don’t come.”

“I can’t let you go on it alone.” You whispered back, shaking your head. “I won’t. Anywhere and everywhere you go, I’m going.”

Finnick lets his other hand settle on your waist, sighing as he pulls you closer, letting his lips press continuously against your wrist before moving to your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

On the journey there, he held your hand tightly through every step, enjoying your soft singing as you held his hand tightly. He loved that stupid song you sang about dreams, and how his dream was always to start a life with you somewhere safe and secure. He was fighting for that somewhere, and to be honest, he had mixed feelings about fighting it with you.

“I have something important to tell you when we get back,” you say, smiling as you bumped his hip with your own. “I think you’ll be ecstatic.”

He smiled widely, kissing your head. “Anything you say makes me ecstatic.”

As soon as you both went down that tunnel though, he knew something was wrong. You trailed behind him, much to his dismay, mainly because you were the best with firearms and you knew you could protect him.

“Go up first,” Finnick tried to tell you, but you just shook your head. “Y/N, I'm not asking you.”

“Finnick, I’m not going up that latter first,” you say, your usual strong will making his stomach twist. “Go. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Finnick, come on,” Katniss called as you started pushing him up the ladder, tapping his thigh.

“I love you,” you say quickly, smiling as he finally gets up.

Finnick goes to turn around, your scream making him almost fall as he made it to the top. He could barely get out your name when he saw the mutts come out, about to jump down before Katniss yelled into her earpiece.

“No! No, what are you doing?!” Finnick attempted to let go before Katniss grabbed his shoulders and tugged him onto the overhead, the explosion making his heart clench.

His ears were ringing, the wishful thinking of trying to hope that it was fake, that you followed behind him shattered whenever he stared down at nothing.

“What did you do?” He whispers, his voice soft before turning to Katniss. “What did you do?!”

Tears were running down her cheeks as a wail fell from her lips, the only person she ever saw as a friend or an older sister gone.

Finnick refused to believe it, though, already grabbing his trident. “We’re going back down.”

“She’s gone!” Katniss sobbed, running her hands through her hair. “She’s gone, she’s gone…”

Her voice continued to drone on, going into soft whispers as Finnick stared at the hatch.

This wasn’t real.

It wasn’t until he got back to District 13 did everything settle in. Seeing Katniss hold Alexi who was wailing and sobbing, tears in her eyes as she tried to remember the words you always sang so beautifully.

“I don’t… I don’t remember them,” Katniss whispers, thinking back to when you helped calm her down on the beach during the third quarter quell, singing softly as you braided her hair. How could she not remember them?

“I do,” Finnick’s voice was hoarse, his eyebags dark and obvious, a sniffle filling the room as Katniss tried to shake her head.

“You need to go back to sleep-”

“A dream is a wish your heart makes,” he hummed softly, his voice cracked and breaking since he wasn’t much of a singer, but he quickly calmed down at the sound of the lyrics. “When you’re fast asleep, in your dreams you’ll lose your heartache…”

Finnick continued to sing the words that you knew by heart, even if it wasn’t the best, but it still made Alexi calm down. He stared down at Alexi’s eyes which were an exact replica of your own, smiling with tears filling his eyes.

Maybe not all hope was lost, afterall.

Taglist: 𓆩[@lem0ns77]𓆪 𓆩[@cecepop15]𓆪 𓆩[@memeorydotcom]𓆪 𓆩[@your-favorite-god]𓆪 𓆩[@nowitsmissing]𓆪 𓆩[@xyzstar]𓆪 𓆩[@just-my-shit]𓆪 𓆩[@your-mom21]𓆪 𓆩[@c78r]𓆪 𓆩[@dizscreams]𓆪 𓆩[@copypastedaphne]𓆪 𓆩[@asrt5]𓆪 𓆩[@xoxomoonlightbabe]𓆪 𓆩[@f-aggotry]𓆪 𓆩[@ineedmentalhelp123]𓆪 𓆩[@aerangi]𓆪 𓆩[@luv-lella]𓆪 𓆩[@teenwolfbitches28]𓆪 𓆩[@miawastakens]𓆪 𓆩[@hufflepuffsweetheart1]𓆪 𓆩[@nowitsmissing]𓆪 𓆩[@satans--beloved]𓆪

119 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 2 years

Note

Got me thinking about diluc in puffy sleeves, chest peeking thru a lacing detail with high waisted pants-

Victorian-gent!diluc is where its at for me😩

...but

Have u ever thought about him finding the reader stuck in the middle of a garden maze during a ball? All helpless and doe-eyed as they seek help from the ever so reliable and chivalrous Duke Ragnvindr?

Anywayss hope ur doing well my dear<3

i am literally always thinking of period romance drama-esque courtships and intrigue with diluc. he fills me with such victorian style longing, it's inescapable.

OH . . . but consider: the ball is thrown for him. with his father gone, and of marriageable age, he's aware that he's expected to make a match as soon as he can, if only to carry on the bloodline and ensure that his fortune has an heir - and of course, he's handsome and chivalrous, if his reputation has suffered a touch since his father's untimely and tragic death (withdrawing from society and going quiet and grave can do such things to a man, and diluc has had so much to shoulder in the years since crepus's death). he's a much lusted after figure in the community, and your parents had been delighted to receive the invitation for you and your sister--

your sister, of course, lovely and sweet and with all the hopes of your family pinned upon her. bought only the finest of elegant fashions, let wear mother's jewels - not that you are not wantable and loveable, your parents assure you, but . . . well. this is diluc ragnvindr they are talking about, and it would not do to set your expectations too high. one child ought to stay home to look after their parents in their dotage.

you escape from the ballroom as quickly as you can. the other men are desperate to fall over themselves in an attempt to snag the prospects they think diluc has discarded, after they have been pushed by coy parents towards him and the young noble has dutifully spoken once to them. your own mother is far too distracted by said sister - so you use the opportunity to sneak out into the gardens, to feel the moonlight on your face. you suppose nobody will be interested in this particular folly tonight; you have snuck a little book into your gown's pocket (a field guide of birds; you've grown fond of watching the songbirds from your window and wish to know more of them), and the light of the moon ought to be enough to illuminate the script. you wander in the perfectly manicured maze for what seems like hours, enjoying the fragrant bloom of cecilias around you and the peaceful night, with only the barest hint of the music from the classical trio playing in the ballroom on the breeze. until you realise you have gotten yourself hopelessly lost. the garden maze is large (the estate is large in and of itself), and whilst impeccably maintained it is clearly not meant for a single unfamiliar guest to wander through alone. fear crawls up your spine.

you wander helplessly for five minutes, feeling tears spring to your eyelids. a gardener or someone will surely find you, perhaps in the morning, but your parents will be so angry with you - and then, you hear the hoot of an owl, the flap of wings in the sky, and you go still. you recognise that particular hoot; the colours of the wingspan picked out by the glow of the stars. you fish the book from your pocket, flip through it, far too lost in the watercolour illustrations within - and you walk directly into something solid and rock hard.

apologies bubble from your lips, at the same time as relief that you are to be saved. but a familiar voice, quiet and deep and certain, cuts across - says the name of the breed of owl, and you are looking directly into diluc ragnvindr's eyes. you realise you have never seen him really smile, not since his father died - but as he looks down at you and the little book in your hands, his lips have tilted at the corners.

"lost?" he asks you. "i can help with that. although . . . i must say it's rather nice to be away from in there." he pauses. swallows; the bob in his throat obvious. his cheeks seem to flush a little, but he pushes on with the awkward air of a man who does not often indulge in idle chatter. "but. if you're really interested. in the birds. my mews are only just outside of the maze--"

#ok i got carried away sorry #sigh #concept postin #genshin impact posting #nat.txt

177 notes · View notes

cherriesncinnamon · 12 days

Text

calm during the storm / coriolanus x lucy gray

synopsis: camping out at the cabin during a storm before their adventure the next morning, coriolanus and lucy gray become closer than they both could ever imagine.

warnings/tags: handjob, unprotected sex (don't try this at home), coriolanus x lucy gray (lucy gray has been aged up to 18 for the purposes of this)

word count: 1.2k.

a/n: i've been obsessed with them since tbosas came out, how could i not? fyi - i don't want to romanticise snow, i just like this narrative.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“It’s too stormy out there, I’ll go tomorrow. Gather some katniss then. Once the rain dies down.” announces Lucy Gray, moving strands of wet hair away from her eyes as she places the rose scented clementine scarf Coriolanus gave her over the back of a chair to dry. Coriolanus nods in response, using the collar of his t-shirt to wipe the raindrops from his face. Their bodies shake from the bitter nip of the cold, worsened by the lack of insulation in the run down cabin.

“We should change clothes, it’ll only make us colder; sleeping in wet clothes.” Coriolanus says, digging through her bag to bring her a fresh set of clothes. He turns around while she undresses, eyes set on the floor out of respect. She taps his shoulder gently once she’s done, a clean shirt and linen shorts placed neatly over her forearm to hand over to him.

The bed was comfortable enough to bear, and just wide enough to fit the both of their bodies. Coriolanus suggests sleeping at the foot of the bed, top and tail, but Lucy Gray persists he lay beside her, chest pressed up against hers, sharing the heat to prevent dying of hypothermia. He complies, bringing himself up to the headboard.

For the first few minutes, they lie in silence, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, hoping that the other will say something. Just one word before they enter what could be the most monumental day of their lives. The day that brings them life outside the grip of the Capitol. A life of freedom and hope.

Coriolanus turns his body on its side, facing Lucy Gray, watching as she does the same. He can feel her cool exhales on his chin; they’re paced faster than usual. His fingertips explore the roots of her curled hair, stroking circles on her scalp. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, feeling sleep come over her in waves, the comforting floral scent of Coriolanus rocking her like a lullaby. Lucy Gray reaches out, settling her head in the space between his chest and his neck, listening intently to the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Tearing through him without warning, Coriolanus felt the unbearable urge to kiss her. So he does. Grabbing the sides of her small face, he tastes the sweet honeysuckle on her peach lips, the same taste he thought about every second of his days. Lucy Gray is flustered, gasping through every kiss before he ravages for more, but she doesn’t stop him. His palm makes contact with her breast, almost primally without the confirmation from his brain.

“I’m sorry.” he says, lips red raw and throbbing, quickly retracting his hand.

“It’s OK. Here.” Lucy Gray replies in a whisper, lowering the nightdress she has draped over her skin, taking his hand and delicately positioning it on her chest, nipple hardening under his touch. He doesn’t say a single word, taking time to admire the beauty of his songbird, and how hard he is fighting his thoughts. He didn’t want to seem desperate - needy - so he holds back, going slow with his kisses, so slow that it begins to give him a headache.

His hand lingers down her nightdress from her breast to the bend in her waist, fingers slipping to her lower back. He presses his fingertips against the sensitive skin, dragging her body closer to his, as close as humanly possible. Lucy Gray wraps her leg around him, resting it on his hip. She can feel heat between her legs growing increasingly unbearable by the second, intensifying with the sensation of his barely clothed member dangerously close to her inner thigh.

Bright moonlight seeps through the sheer curtain, shining beams of white into the dark room. Coriolanus basks in the beauty of Lucy Gray’s features illuminating by light, from her pretty eyelashes fluttering with every gentle rock of her hips, to her nimble fingertips stroking the nape of his neck in a way that electrified his nerves.

Breaking the waistband of his thin shorts, Lucy Gray’s warm touch against his navel made him shudder. He would never think his little songbird would be so ambitious, but there she was, mere inches away from where he needed her most. His mouth lay agape against hers, too weak to kiss back as she softly takes him into her grasp, gradually increasing pace. Coriolanus buries his head into the crook in her neck, inhaling the intoxicating pheromones on her supple skin. He can feel in inhibitions slipping away with every stroke, the muscles in his abdomen tensing in pleasure. He wants to feel her. Not just her skin or her mouth. He wants to be inside of her.

He removes her hand from his length, riding up her nightdress to her stomach, unveiling nothing underneath. Lucy Gray feels slightly embarrassed at her aesthetics; she’s a lot thinner than the other women he’s probably been with, and more unkept, too. Coriolanus recognises her insecurity and caresses her cheek with his thumb, swiping it across her lips before diving in for another kiss.

Unsure if he can wait a second longer, Coriolanus, still deep in a kiss, climbs on top of Lucy Gray. She quickly welcomes him, spreading her legs to allow him to sink in the space. As he slides himself inside her, she gasps at the ambiguous sensation, wrapping her arms around his neck for support. He groans out in euphoria, his thrusts deep and gentle. After a short amount of time, mild pain turns into pleasure for Lucy Gray, exceeding all expectations. Coriolanus peppers blue kisses on her chest, leaving marks where he once was. Their cold bodies transition to sweating messes within minutes, heat rising in the room.

“Oh, Lucy Gray. Lucy Gray…” he whispers in her ear, climbing closer to an anticipated release. Lucy Gray shuts her eyes, high off of the feeling she thought she’d never enjoy.

With her walls tightening around him like a glove, Coriolanus struggles to hold himself up, groans echoing the empty walls. He bites her lower lip playfully, drawing out a small amount of blood that mixes in their mouths. Her hands snake up his neck and face, fingertips grazing sensitive skin, sending goosebumps through his whole body. His muscles twitch relentless as his climax hits him like a gunshot. Lucy Gray moans sweetly, the pressure inside of her bursting open simultaneously.

Coriolanus collapses to the side, oxytocin coursing through his blood that transports him to a paradise. He turns his face to gaze at his beautiful songbird, who is struggling to catch her breath. They both want to say something, but decide against it. There are no suitable words. Lucy Gray turns away from him, scooting back into the shape of his body, their frames fitting together like a puzzle.

Coriolanus wraps his arms around her tightly, resting his nose on her head. As she drifts off into unconsciousness, he spends most of the night awake, grateful to call her his. If only he could keep her forever, locked away for her to only ever be his. He will not confess this, but will fantasise about it when they run away together. He hopes she will change her mind; agreeing to live the rest of her days with him in the Capitol. But he knows she will not. Coriolanus wonders whether it’s best to trust your heart, or your mind.

#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus

8 notes · View notes

eaaaazygurl · 2 years

Text

'Do you think he knows me?'

Pairing - Arthur Morgan x F'reader

Summary - Many years have passed since your sweetheart and husband, Arthur Morgan, had died upon that mountain. Now situated in the mountains within a small cabin just some feet away from your husbands resting place, you have a daughter - Arthur's daughter. One short trip away leaving your child to her own devices suddenly results in the most heart breaking and heart warming shock of your life.

Word Count - 3089

Warnings - Death, mentions of murder, some swears and some pretty upsetting material.

Key Word - Y/d/n means 'Your daughters name'. Thought I might as well give you some creative freedom on that front!

● Ohhhkay so I did write it up in the end. It is short and bittersweet but I've been feeling pretty bittersweet myself lately so what better way to vent your emotions than write a short story about your favourite character and even better yet - make it an 'X reader' fic?! Hope ya'll enjoy. This is my first time posting a short story and I'm not very good at it, so yeah. Thanks for your time and patience ^^

● This LOOSELY follows the canon of RDR1 & RDR2, take this as an AU.

------------------------------------------

The early morning spring sunshine kept no prisoners when it came to waking, seeping it's stunning golden rays into the inner workings of your little log cabin, falling upon your perfectly sound and peacefully sleeping face.

Your eyes had flickered open at the disturbance of the bright glow against your closed lids, drawing a long winded yawn from your very core as you slowly pulled yourself up and out of the thick Elk pelt blanket that lie on your masterfully crafted bed.

Already the harmony of songbirds and chittering of love-crazed squirrels gifted your ears. It was barely past 6am, life here in the mountains demanded an early rise unless grey clouds cursed overhead; you knew you could sneak in an extra hour under the cover of disturbed weather within the sleepy sky when it had rolled in.

Alas, today was no different than the last few. Blue skies blessed the day ahead, promising yet another warm and forgiving twenty four hours.

When you finally decided to leave your bedroom and trapse slowly into the dining room, a flash of blonde caught your eye within the largest room of the house, sitting idol against a little wooden stool, fixated on something within their soft pink hands.

You gently placed a foot in front of the other creeping into the room, making your way silently closer to the little girl that had, what you came to realise, a little photo; two people sat practically joint at the hip upon a beautiful white steed, arms linked and hands entwined, cheerful smiles lightning their expressions. Your eyes fell upon one such figure in the image; a man dressed in almost all black attire, a charming smile, sparkling eyes and a neatly trimmed beard that was not quite cleanly shaven, two little unique scars trailing across his chin, and a unique leather hat with bolo cord wrapped around it's base.

"Lookin' at pictures of your father?" As you spoke, the little girl shot you a surprised expression with a small gasp, her brilliant blue eyes wide and startled, blonde whisps of long hair obscuring her vision: "You scared me half to death!"

"Sorry Y/d/n" You came to stand beside her, brushing the loose strands from her eyes and wrapping an arm around her waist as you drew a spare finger across the image, smiling sadly, "What are you doing up so early?"

"Uncle Charles came to deliver some fresh food about half an hour ago, he woke me to tell you that it's already been cured." Y/d/n gestured her hand towards the dining hall, indicating that Charles' delivery was somewhere within that room. He was a good man, he cared for you and Y/d/n deeply, having been a good friend of you and Arthur back when the Van De Linde gang still ran. He had found you cradling Arthur's body on top of that hill all those years ago, gently consoling you, burying Arthur with you and taking you to stay with John and Abigail whilst you recovered. After learning from Abigail that you were carrying Arthur's child not long after, he had made it his duty to provide for you. He and John had worked on building you a little log cabin just feet away from Arthur's resting place, surprising you one day with your new homestead. From then onward, Charles would visit you on a regular basis with medicine and food, helping to deliver your child and even going into hiding with your own daughter whilst you sought out Micha to kill the bastard.

Now, you were safe. Micha was dead, as was Dutch. The Pinkertons were disbanded, Bill was six feet under, Javier was who knows where in some long distance cell... all of those people who you'd concidered family once who had turned mad and dangerous, gone. Even the good men and women you respected were either dead or elsewhere, so far you couldn't possibly track them. John, Abigail... gone.

Charles and not-so-little Jack were the last of the gang you saw now.

Y/d/n slumped into your embrace with a soft giggle, but then that cheery grin was replaced with an expression you could only describe as confused, upset and perhaps even a bit lost. She spoke quietly, almost as if what she was asking was to be frowned upon, "What was he like?"

"Your father? He was amazing." You had both spoken about Arthur's life before, though you'd known that y/d/n was far too young to understand and comprehend you back then. Perhaps now would be the right time to explain things better.

"Your father was a good man, despite what he ever thought about himself," You began, gazing upwards to watch the flames of the fireplace dance and twirl, "He did bad things- we all did bad things when we were younger, but all for the greater good no less. We were dealt bad hands when we were small you see... but in the end, your father got the redemption he had been searching for. He saved a lot of people during his life, gave others opportunities they'd never imagined and dealt with those who sought to harm others." Your mind wandered deep into past memories, recalling that one time you and Arthur had met, him rescuing you from the O'driscolls, and then to the more light hearted time when Arthur had foolishly attempted to mount another man's horse in order to return the scrawny nag, only to be bucked off right into the creek beside you both. He'd stank of that bog for days afterward, but you remained by his side whilst others avoided him like the plague.

"What he would have given to see you now..." a crack within your voice threatened to draw tears, but you refrained, turning to face your daughter with a proud smile, placing a little kiss onto her forehead, "He'd be smitten."

"Do you think he knows I exist, wherever he is?" The expectant tone of y/d/n drew a pained smile from your lips, carding fingers through her impossibly soft, long, blond hair, "Of course he does," You continued, briefly catching the time with your eye; 6.50am, work in ten minutes.

"Whenever you feel lost or down, just remember that your father is always by your side, even if you can't see him." Placing another gentle kiss against your daughters head, you removed yourself from the embrace and fixed your jacket onto your shoulders from the wall as well as the same leather black hat Arthur once wore onto your head, "Be good today. I'm just off to check on the stables." You ruffled Y/d/n's hair, planting one last gentle kiss against her crown and headed for the door, taking another brief look back with a soft smile before leaving.

* * *

Home alone once again. It was something Y/d/n was accustomed to after spending much of her life sheltered away from all of the bad in the world.

Y/d/n hadn't blamed you, though. The world was indeed cruel. Oh so very cruel. She had hidden away whilst you stalked to the ends of the West and beyond, hunting down all of those who threatened your daughters life, all down to the very last.

Y/d/n made her way to the dining hall, carefully picking her way past the little table where the wrapped sections of cured Mountain Goat meat had been stored from Charles earlier that morning. She ran her hands past the wooden counter top and reached for the little wooden box next to the wash basin, pulling the tiny doors open.

Just as she'd expected: An empty jar labeled 'Wild Mint.'

Cooking was Y/d/n's calling, it seemed. She'd learnt many a trick from you over the years, but it was Charles who taught her the most.

He had explained the importance of each herb around the Grizzlies, where to find them and what their properties were, and especially how to store and prep them for cooking. Wild Mint was a common plant, but it also meant she had used it the most. It made for a wonderful seasoning afterall, and thus that meant running low on the particularly smelly plant was an all too common occurrence, and so Y/d/n raced towards the front door, whipping a large blue winter coat over her flowery dress onto her incredibly small body, pulling her little dark brown satchel bag over her shoulder, leaping into smaller boots and burst out into the open world.

Spring brought with it the last whisps of winters cool breath. It blew gently across the wooded landscape, catching the underneath of Y/d/n dress that made her quake, grasping the large edges of the dark blue fabric and tugging them tightly around her small figure, burying her face into the fur-lined neck of the coat, inhaling the faintest smell of raspberries and cigarette smoke.

Ocean blue eyes scanned the mountain range, vast verges and sloping hills carrying on for miles around. Drawing her attention over towards the little wooden cross, Y/d/n gave the object a faint smile, bowing her head ever so slightly with a little wave and whispered "I'll be back soon."

Y/d/n had only made it some thirty foot down the hillside before she came to the first thick stretch of woodland. It was heavy with the smell of pine needles and tree sap, damp earth and mycelium. As she strode deeper into the confines of the wood, a faint lingering scent of fresh mint leaves tickled her nostrils. Not far to go now.

There it was, a bundle of stretching stems flush with tiny green leaves grasping for the twinkle of sun rays through the treeline: wild mint.

They were situated at the foot of a large pine tree surrounded by various little rocks, likely from a previous rock slide within the area. Y/d/n scampered over, unravelling the little leather cord to pull open the fold of her satchel and clapped her hands together, rubbing them viciously so that the friction warmed her skin. Next, she settled at the base of the mint, digging fingers into the dirt and began to claw at the dark brown earth. Hooking under fresh, light brown threads, Y/d/n tugged, listening to the sound of snapping roots and felt the sensation as the cords of the mint began to click away from eachother. The first stem of mint finally came free, Y/d/n delicately removing the leaves from the stem and placing them into one jar whilst the bare stems were placed into another.

That's when the sound of snapping twigs sent a bullet of terror through the heart of the little girl.

Crystal eyes scoured the scene ahead of her in quick jerking actions as she stayed motionless in a crouch, one hand outstretched and hovering whilst the other stabilised her against the trunk of a tree.

The sound came again, closer, and finally Y/d/n caught sight of her stalker.

Just ahead of her stood a magnificent White Tailed Buck, perhaps the largest she had ever seen. It's crown of antlers bore eight points on either side, wide and almost intimidating yet elegant and luxurious. Beautiful eyes seemed to gaze into Y/d/n's very soul, and as she gazed back, she could have almost swore she saw a flicker of blue within the Buck's irises as it began to slowly sauter closer towards her.

The atmosphere within the surrounding woodland suddenly felt at ease, as if there was a complete and total shift within the universe. The Buck grew closer and closer and Y/d/n did not shift. She held her outstretched hand out towards the brilliant creature, gasping softly as it's muzzle pressed delicately into her palm, eyes slowly closing and it's heavy breathing faltering to a relaxed and slow huff.

Thundering hooves against the hard unstable ground alerted Y/d/n; a horse had been tracking her movements from the house, now making ground towards her location in quick sucession. A flash of silver and black came screeching to a stop just some feet away from her, whinnying at the harsh flicker of pebbles and stones against it's broad limbs, old age had caught up with the big brute of an animal.

You had found Y/d/n, a flash of relief sparking within your eyes as you met your daughters mesmerised gaze, and you opened your jaw to call out a loud cry of relief before your voice hitched - caught within your throat at the very sight before you.

The Buck had not fled at your arrival, rather it turned it's attention away from Y/d/n and set it's gaze upon you, ears pricking slightly almost as if it had recognised you.

Some strange force of nature - almost like a beckoning drew you from your mount and slowly stepping over towards the handsome creature. Your stomach tied into large knots and your heart fluttered within the confines of your chest cavity, and without an understanding as to why, you felt a sudden urge to come to the Buck's level, crouching down to meet it head height.

The wonderous creature took a small hoof step forward, drawing in your scent through it's nostrils, brown fur catching the wind. Slowly, he drew himself closer and closer until he had paused only inches from your face. There was a moment of uncertainty between you both - at any moment this majestic creature could very well strike out at you, goring you in the exposed flesh of your throat and head with each individual point of his antlers.

You, however, remained seated.

Throughout all of your years hunting crazed ex-gang members, finding yourself crawling out of an explosion in hopes of finding a health tonic and finding the deceased bodies of fallen loved ones, you had always briefly acknowledged a White Tailed Buck guiding you along, watching you, following you and even guiding you towards help.

You'd always pinned it down to some sort of whacky reoccurring hallucination but now...

The Buck turned it's nose upwards. Slowly, he began to ever so gently nudge the black, beaten leather hat that rest upon your head. He nibbled delicately at the worn and tired leather bolo cord that hung loose against the inner rim of the accessory.

You let out a sudden, soft gasp, eyes wide with pure emotional shock and understanding. You felt every inch of you freeze and burn into a thousand suns, your stomach bunching up and head speaking a billion silent questions without answers.

You knew what- or who- this was.

The Buck slowly pulled away, giving you and Y/d/n some space as it gazed longingly at you both. You drew yourself onto your feet, eyes still wide and bright with shock and a confusing concoction of emotions as you came to stand behind your daughter, hands resting upon her shoulders and giving them a soft reassuring squeeze.

Your smile was as delicate as fresh rose petals, a timid flush crossing your cheeks. Your eyes glistened as tears began to form in the corners, creating tiny little gemstones of water, twinkling golden within the spring sunshine.

As you held your sights upon the Buck, you felt a rush of old memories and emotions flood you like a sudden tidal wave. Your body almost trembled at the sight now, the feeling of pure love and loss encasing you so confusingly at the same time. But you remained, and the overwhelming sense of dear calmness overtook each and every frightening feeling that chipped away at you.

A familiar smile lased your expression now, one that had not been since since you found yourself in the warm and loving embrace of Arthur. It was a sight to behold indeed, and to your surprise, the Buck's ears perked once more and tail flicked as if it had acknowledged that expression upon your face.

Y/d/n did not make even the smallest of sounds. She simply stood there, lips parted in a grinning gaup and eyes pinned directly onto the Buck in pure emotional awe. She huddled herself a little deeper into the blue winter coat at the passing bluster of a sudden breeze, gaining an acknowledging small, almost silent squeak from the Buck himself.

You wished this moment would last forever, but as the winds grew a little stronger and the sound of a distant bear call echoed in the distance, the Buck turned to give you an almost pleading look as if to say 'get yourself home into saftey.'

Tears welled within your eyes again as you allowed them to trickle down your soft flushed cheeks, giving the creature a small nod in silent understanding agreement.

You watched him back up slightly and turn to face the thick cover of the woodland, spreading out into a vast, dense forest.

It had almost felt as though time came to a standstill as the Buck began it's decent into the heavier tree line. You felt a longing to call him back, to grasp at him - anything to keep that small flame of awe alive.

You remained silent.

Before the creature pushed itself into the shadows, it took one last look back at you both.

A sad smile caught your lips and your voice finally released itself from your throat, quietly speaking a "Thank you for everything."

Bowing it's head ever so slightly, the Buck then pushed itself back through the treeline and into the shadows, leaving you to stare ahead, hands still pressed against Y/d/n shoulders.

The ride home had been a silent one. Dusk was now breaking, and the evening chorus was a gentle reminder that Y/d/n's bed time was creeping up slowly.

You had ushered her to bed accompanied with a little jug of water placed upon a tiny bedside table. You allowed her to wriggle herself into a much comfier position before tucking the Elk skin sheet up, giving Y/d/n a little peck on the forehead, exchanging a tender "I love you" between yourselves before you made haste for the doorway. Charles had arrived to help you prepare yourself dinner, and there was a lot to tell him about.

"Ma?" Y/d/n was gazing at you with wide, questioning and innocent ocean blue eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart?" You paused, leaning yourself against the door post as you gazed back into the room, meeting her ocean blue eyes.

"Do y'think Father will come visit again? Like today?"

There was a brief silence, but not one of sadness or regret but rather of seldom hope and genuine happiness as you replied with a simple -

"Yes darlin'. Turns out he's been here all along."

#arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x original female character

209 notes · View notes

cookiesuga55 · 2 years

Text

Chub Tae Fit Kook because we need them

Thin fit Kook having a thing for big softie marshmallow boys is CUTE

Lemme explain... tiny waist muscled JK goes for a jog and sees bigboi Tae monchin on a massive pastry plopped on a picnic blanket in the park. Fit Kook almost biffs it from how pretty the man is- round and soft- with a hand resting on his tummy as he eats. He watches the fluffy cutie toss little crumbs to the colorful songbirds hopping around. Jungkook realizes that he's staring... more like ogling. He quickly gets moving again on his route and tries to get the delicious-looking man out of his mind as he focuses on the rhythm of his breath and pumping of his legs.

But, an hour later, when he's circled his entire running path and jogging back through the park to get home, he finds that the cute man is still in the same place. He's got a sketchbook propped up and an empty pastry box next to him from the bakery down the street. Kook tries very hard not to stare at the way the man's round belly is pooled in his lap as he draws.

In a rush of impulse, Jungkook jogs over, wondering what the hell he's doing. And before he can even think it though, he's saying, "hey."

The round man looks up at where Jungkook awkwardly stands. He's got big curious eyes, strong lips, full cheeks, a head of curly brown hair, and a cute freckle on his lip. It only takes a second before his concentrated drawing face is shifting into a friendly boxy smile, and his eyes are squinting adorably.

Kook has to keep his breath from hitching at how gorgeous he is.

"Hi!" He says cheerily, like he isn't talking to a complete stranger.

Jungkook realizes that he's covered in sweat, his nylon long-sleeve plastered to his chest and biceps uncomfortably, and his hair is dripping from running hard. He probably doesn't smell great either. He mentally chides himself for not talking to this cutie before his cardio workout back when he first saw him. He would have been clean and clear-headed and maybe even... attractive? He wouldn't be soaked with sweat like he is right now, and his heart wouldn't be racing from sprinting for the past hour.

"I um-" he mumbles smartly, now unsure what to do with himself. His cheeks feel warm. How do people even flirt? This is terrifying.

The soft man tilts his head, expression shifting back into concern. "Hey, is everything okay? Do you need help?" How is he being so sweet to a stranger? Jungkook would think that a person doing what he's doing right now is a freaking psycho.

It just falls out of him. "You're really cute." What the hell, Jungkook?

The man's expression changes so quickly it's almost comical. It looks like he's been slapped. "Huh?" He blinks hard.

Oh fuck. Jungkook cannot believe he just said that. He really considers turning on his heel and sprinting away.

Instead, he repeats that fact. Even if his voice dies off with his burst of confidence fizzling away. "I- um- I said you're really cute..." His cheeks feel even hotter.

"Me?" The guy's eyebrows shoot up and he points to his chest. Jungkook almost cracks a joke along the lines of 'no, I was talking to the pigeons.'

He swallows hard and bucks up his courage, but, like everything, it doesn't come out quite right. "Yeah- You're gorgeous and I'm awkward and I think you're really really pretty and I'm sorry that I'm terrible at all of... you know," he waves his hands in the air like nervous moths.

"Flirting?" the man finishes for him, and gives a cute giggle.

Jungkook nods silently, cheeks hot.

"Let me make it easy for you," the guy moves the empty pastry box and pats the small space left next to him on the picnic blanket. He motions for Jungkook to sit down next to him.

Somehow, his feet move forwards and he successfully sits down, heart slamming in his chest for a completely different reason than his workout.

The man lifts a chubby hand and delicately brushes some falling strands of hair off of Jungkook's forehead, looking at him with sincere intensity. He smiles, cute and boxy, radiant and kind, and... Jungkook thinks he might just melt on the damn spot.

"We'll start simple," the man murmurs in his honey deep voice, "My name is Kim Taehyung..."

#ADORBS #Meetcute #Massive Tae #tiny waist kook #Shy baby #confident sweetheart Tae #Someone explain what this is lol

41 notes · View notes

songbirdsingingthings · 3 years

Text

Christmas Day - Katsuki Bakugou x Reader, Izuku Midoriya x Reader, Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

DAY TWENTY-FIVE OF 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS - 25 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST - MAIN MASTERLIST

Katsuki Bakugou:

- He didn’t originally get why Christmas was such a big deal to other people and wrote if off as another lame holiday

- Until you and him started dating

- He loves watching your reaction when you open gifts from him

- It literally warms his heart and fuels his ego at the same time, he loves it

- Will cater to your wants and needs on Christmas

- You wanna go light looking? He’s there.

- Baking cookies? Hell yes, let’s pop those bad boys in the oven

- In the end, he just likes spending the day with you <3

Your hands quickly peel back the wrapping paper and unwrap the bow wrapped around the box to reveal the prettiest bracelet you had ever seen. It was not gaudy at all, but a dainty little band with a small charm that had a date engraved in it.

“Oh Katsuki, I love it! And is this... is this our anniversary?” You asked, your smile wide and your eyes sparkling. Katsuki leaned back on his chair and a smug smile spread across his face.

“Yeah, thought you’d like it.” He says. You place the box down and run over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“I love it, but I love you more.” you murmur against his lips. He captures yours again to give you another kiss and he snakes his arms around your waist.

“Merry Christmas, dumbass.”

Izuku Midoriya:

- He definitely matches your enthusiasm for Christmas, his might be even more than yours

- Always excited for the first snow to come so he can take you outside and play in it

- He loves watching holiday movies with you and cuddling with you on the couch under several blankets

- Will get you several gifts, it doesn’t matter what you say he’ll go overboard

- Just loves you a ton and with the holiday season that feeling his heightened

“What do you say we get some cookies and just eat them on the couch?” You ask as you pile the stray wrapping paper into a huge trash bag. The two of you had already opened and exchanged gifts and were now in that weird limbo of Christmas Day afteroon.

“Sounds perfect, darling,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You laugh and continue cleaning up while Izuku piles the bows into a little box to be saved for next year. The two of you finally finish with your chores, grab the little tin of cookies Inko had gifted the two of you, and jump on the couch. You spend a little time searching through all of the channels, finally settling on one that was showing the Polar Express.

“I’ll never get over how realistic but somewhat off-putting the characters look,” you say, biting into a snickerdoodle. You groan at the yummy flavor covering your tongue and lean back on the couch cushion. You open your eye closest to Izuku to find him just looking at you. “Whatcha looking at, lover boy.” You say, a smirk forming on your face. He shakes his head in amusement and pulls you closer to him. He leaves a kiss on your forehead, then one on each of your cheeks, pecks your nose, and then gives you a warm, comforting kiss on your lips. One of your hands moves up to play with his dark green hair.

“I’m just looking at you.” He says, pulling apart. “Merry Christmas Y/N.” He hums.

“Merry Christmas, Izuku.”

Shouto Todoroki:

- Doesn’t really know what to do during the holidays, so he lets you take the lead

- Picks up ice skating, cookie decorating, snowman building... okay he picks up everything and executes them perfectly

- Likes that he can enjoy your company in a more intimate setting since the both of you got time off from work

- Enjoys seeing the kids that live in the neighboring houses play outside and throw snowballs at him; it makes him happy seeing kids living out their childhoods being carefree

- Most of all, though, he likes the Christmas music and dancing with you

While finishing up with cleaning the dishes from your special Christmas dinner, you load them all into the dishwasher and close it. Before you could turn around, though, you hear the faint and sweet melody of Frank Sinatra’s The Christmas Waltz filter through the room. You smile at the sounds, humming a bit to yourself. Your smile widens into a grin once you feel a soft touch at your hips. You spot Shouto’s hands and they turn you around so that you’re facing him.

“Dance with me?” He mumbles, taking on of your hands in his and leaving his other resting on your hip. You laugh a bit and nod, wrapping your free arm around his shoulder. It’s a simple two step, really more of just swaying, but you thought it was just the most perfect thing in the world. The necklace Shouto had gotten you for Christmas was resting perfectly around your neck and you note that Shouto was wearing the sweater you had gotten him. You had to admit, dark green on him really did wonders. Even after the sweet melodies had died down, you and him were still in each others’ arms, as close as can be.

“Did you have a merry Christmas?” You ask him, bringing the hand wrapped around his shoulder up to play with the hair on the base of his neck. Shouto hummed and tightened his grip on your waist a bit, dipping you in the middle of your kitchen.

“The merriest,” he said, placing a kiss to your lips.

A/N: AND THAT’S A WRAP! Thank you all for enjoying this challenge and all of the fics I did for it (even though I posted so many late, oops - literally this one and the Christmas Eve one were posted three days after Christmas). I hope you all really enjoyed it, and if you want, I have other regular writings on my main masterlist! My requests are open if you would like to make one, and I hope that all of you had a lovely holiday season, and if you didn’t, I hope that I was able to bring a little happiness to it. Love you all!

- Songbird

143 notes · View notes

juniperreign · 3 years

Text

Clipped Wings - RE8 Short Fic (Lady Dimitrescu x Maiden)

"Sweet mother, I cannot weave - slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl." - Sappho

An ocean of red pooled around her feet as she stared at the body that had fallen on the floor. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. The air seemed to become light, rendering her lungs useless as she took sharp, inaudible gasps.

She fell to her knees, trembling fingers reaching out for the locks of beautiful hair that had spread so tragically, drenched in blood.

“Of all things, it was a woman?”

She couldn’t even hear the voice behind her. She was staring at the cold, soulless eyes that peered up at her.

“I refuse to fathom the idea of you dirtying yourself with a whore, especially with a woman at that.”

The smile that she saw this morning, the image that she had remembered in her head that brought radiance in her life was replaced with one that was blank.

Frozen.

Devoid of emotions.

There was a grunt of frustration. “I knew you were sick. I just wasn’t expecting it to corrupt your mind this fast.”

Her fingers were now drenched in blood as she brushed her fingers against the pale, skin. There was no warmth.

A voice of desperation. “No. She corrupted your frail mind. Your purity. I could not have that be taken away.”

There was a touch on her cheek but she barely acknowledged it. She smelt something foul.

“My pretty, songbird. I will help you. I will fix you.”

But there was nothing to fix.

There was nothing wrong with her, and yet…

“You need to be reminded of your place. Your place as my betrothed.”

It was bile.

Dirty.

She was moved to face him. A touch on her back.

“Because without me, you are nothing.”

Disgusting.

She had found her trembling and shaking in the cold. Eyes of fear had looked up at her and she saw the faint, dying flame behind it.

“P-please take pity on me, my l-lady… A-all I ask for is o-one night of rest in your c-castle,” she spoke.

The small thing was only wrapped up in a thin ragged layer of blanket. Her bare feet was roughed up by the terrain and cold weather. An odd sight.

“I do not take in strays, dear.”

But before she could turn away, a hand reached out to her dress and the scent of iron was strong. She looked down to see crimson against her white. She should’ve gotten angry, slapped her small body away, and back into the cold at her insolence for ruining her dress. But she didn’t.

“Please…!” She begged. “I c-can’t go back…”

She then saw a familiar spark behind those eyes.

And she understood.

“My Lady, if I may?”

Alcina let out a soft hum in acknowledgment, her fingers gently caressing the soft locks of the younger woman who was leaning against her side.

“What is it, my dear?”

There was an obvious pause of hesitance.

“The night we met…” eyes of curiosity looked up at her, “Why did you take me in?”

A peculiar question it was. “You rather I just left you out in the cold?”

“N-no!” She protested before looking away to avoid her gaze. “I just… I do not understand. I had nothing to offer you yet you showed nothing but kindness.”

A hum. “Yes, I did. So why question it?”

There was an expression that the younger woman tried to hide but Alcina could easily see through her.

“I’m afraid…” she whispered.

Alcina paused her reading to glance down at her.

“Afraid?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

She could still see the crown of her head, eyes still not coming back up to meet hers. Then a faint nod followed.

“That my luck could run out at any moments notice,” she elaborated quietly.

She watched the girl silently playing with her fingers. It was easy to tell that she was nervous and the sound of her racing heart was audible.

She found her small tells like this endearing.

With a small smile, Alcina reached down with her large finger, placing it underneath her chin, allowing her to meet her gaze.

“You think your stay here is temporary,” Alcina spoke.

When the girl averted her gaze, she held her chin with her thumb and finger, gaining the attention of her eyes once more.

“Y-yes, my Lady,” she replied quietly.

“And what made you have such foolish thoughts?”

The older woman watched the way her face morphed into one of apprehensiveness and perhaps insecurity.

“T-there are other prettier younger maidens that have come your way… others who are more nimble with their hands and those who are quicker to act.”

Gold eyes softened at her upon hearing this.

“You think I don’t find you as beautiful? As someone who’s not worthy enough to be at my side?”

A shade of red adorned the younger woman’s cheeks and she meekly shook her head. “Yes…”

Alcina watched the way the smaller woman leaned into the palms of her hand once she cupped her warm cheeks. The tips of her fingers had brushed against the roots of her hair before eventually burying themselves into her soft locks.

“Oh, my dear. Do you think that I would merely have maidens lounging in my bed at night? To have them be at my side from the moment the sun rises and sets?”

She still saw doubt in the younger woman’s eyes but she knew it would eventually fade. So she continued.

“I take such bonds very seriously. I may have lived in this world far longer than most but that doesn’t mean I waste and play around with such delicate moments.”

She finally saw the flicker of hope, igniting itself from her words. The woman seemed to process Alcina’s words and nodded slowly.

“So why me of all people? I simply don’t understand.” She asked.

Alcina closed her book and brought it aside to give her full attention to the girl.

She peered down at her. “That night you came to me, you were fleeing. Running from the life you once had,” she stated.

Alcina saw shame befall her doe eyes and the older woman refused to allow it to consume her, not when the flame had been lit.

“But that was not what I saw,” she continued firmly. “I saw a woman who defied the odds that were brought against her. Someone who was strong enough to fight against the chains forced upon her beautiful wings.”

Alcina brushed her thumb against her soft, pink lips and smiled when she saw surprise and the glaze in her eyes.

“You refused to have your wings clipped. Not many have the resolve to do such things and that, my dear, is one of the things that I admire from you.”

“My Lady…” she whispered, speechless, unable to form any words from the confession.

“Do not be mistaken,” Alcina murmured. “I would indeed take it very much to heart if you so choose to leave…”

A gasp. “I would never!”

Alcina shook her head from her words all the while ignoring the unpleasant constricting clench in her chest. She was not one to speak out of her weaknesses.

“I am aware. However, I would not force you to stay. That is not something I can fathom doing.”

Not to you.

Alcina may be a monster but she was not one to be a hypocrite. Her castle will not be her cage. It is far from the ones that the rats and scoundrels have made and she refuses to become the very being that she hates.

Alcina suddenly felt tears slide down her wrist and noticed a smaller hand had now wrapped around her forearm. The small sweet thing was burying her face into her palms, almost as if wanting to hide her face into pale snow.

“You are so kind to me,” the woman wept, “It feels like a dream.”

While looking at her face, Alcina thought that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be encased in warmth. To have something close in her heart. But now... it was different.

“Oh but my dear, it isn’t.” She spoke gently while prompting the girl onto her lap.

Her arm encased her smaller waist very easily and she brushed the tears away with her fingers. She was so small, but oh so strong.

“This is very much real…” Alcina said softly.

As she leant down, her movement was met halfway, the younger woman pushing herself upwards to meet her lips. Red and pink roses brushed together, movements being at a pace of a slow dance. Yet neither was leading the other around, merely focusing on each other’s warmth and sensation instead.

Even in such a small body, the woman in her arms had the strength to overcome what most could not and contained potential that she herself has yet to see. Because of this, Alcina had decided long ago that she will be the one who will guide her, to show her just how far her wings can spread.

She will not allow history to repeat itself once more.

Another body fell on that day, the sounds of gurgling heard. She looked down at him with anger in her eyes as she watched him drown in his own blood. Eyes of mortification looked back at her as if telling her of the audacity she had just done.

Because she wasn’t supposed to do that. She was only supposed to listen, to behave, and to wait for a command like a dog. But she didn’t care.

She was exhausted. Tired of the bonds, of the chains, and the forced silence.

Tired of the glass walls and of the illusions.

She had enough.

She bent down only to wipe her fingers clean of his blood and said nothing else as his body writhed like a worm.

A fitting description.

She watched as it died within seconds.

And ran.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x female #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x maiden #fanfic #short story #resident evil village #wlw #lgbt #fiction #sapphic

41 notes · View notes

detectivecarlosreyes · 3 years

Note

Hope this is okay for the prompts: “Can you sing that song for me again?” + Madney or Maddie + Jee-Yun or Madney + Jee 🥺💕

Ooh I love the prompt! I haven't written any Madney before but I hope you like it 💖

Read it of Ao3

and the songbirds keep singing

Chim hasn’t heard Maddie sing since she was pregnant, singing to her growing belly in soft tunes in an attempt to calm the sporadic bouts of kicking that inevitably came about as their baby grew. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it until she started to do it again.

Things have been subdued in the apartment in the last couple of months, ever since Maddie had finally admitted to him, to herself that she wasn’t okay. Her recovery was slow going but moving in a positive direction with treatment and counseling, especially with the increased support of their surrounding family.

There wasn’t anything special about the day, Chim was home on a day off and Maddie was taking some time to herself in the kitchen making coffee while he spent some quality time with Jee-Yun. She was being fussier than usual, not quite settling down for the nap that she was due for, despite Chim’s best efforts.

And then Maddie started humming to herself.

It took Chim a beat to realise what he was hearing until the melody of the lyrics gently floated from the kitchen to the living room as she pulled the mugs from the top shelf while the coffee pot brewed.

He closed his eyes as he listened to the familiar song, basking in the small sense of relief and comfort of hearing her voice like this again before returning his attention to their baby girl. Jee-Yun, it seemed, was entranced by the sound, no longer fussing against the blanket she was swaddled in.

And just a soon as it started, it ended as Maddie drifted from the kitchen in the direction of the bedroom, and Jee started fussing with her blanket once again.

“Hey, Maddie?” Chim called on a whim as he watched their daughter with a thoughtful expression.

Maddie re-emerged from the bedroom, carrying their two used coffee cups from the morning, “Yeah Chim?” she answered distractedly.

“Can you sing that song for me again?”

Maddie’s brow knit in confusion and abandoned the coffee cups in the kitchen before moving to sit next to him beside the crib, tucking the loose curls of hair behind her ear.

“The one you were just singing in the kitchen…” He prompted gently, pausing for a moment to come up with the name of the song, “… Songbird, right?”

Maddie stilled for a second, as she glanced back toward the kitchen as if reminding herself of what she was doing in the kitchen earlier, “I suppose I was singing wasn’t I? But Chim wh-“

Chim interrupted her question as he reached down and pressed a finger into Jee-Yun’s now exposed hand for her to grip, “She remembers you singing to her-- settled down from her fussing just like she used to when she was in your belly.”

Maddie’s demeanour softened, and her mouth quirked into a small smile as she peered down at their daughter, “Is that so baby girl?”

Jee-Yun gazed back up at the two of them gurgling with a wet smile as she continued trying her best to free herself from the swaddling blanket.

Maddie reached down and tucked her back inside her blanket before gathering her up in her arms. Swaying gently side to side, she started the song again humming the opening tune before singing the lyrics softly to her quieting child.

And once she finished the first song, she continued with the short list of gentle melodies that she used to sing months ago, for as long as it took until Jee-Yun was soundly asleep in her arms. All Chim could do was sit there and listen with his elbow on his knee and resting his cheek in his palm, completed entranced by the woman standing before him.

After she set her back down in the crib, Maddie sat down beside him once again with a slow-released sigh. Instinctively, Chim wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his side, and pressed a kiss into her temple before she dropped her head to his shoulder, still watching their baby girl who was now peacefully sleeping.

Chim squeezed her gently, “God I love the two of you so much,” he breathed out in a whisper, not wanting to wake Jee so soon after falling asleep.

Maddie lifts her cheek from Chim’s shoulder and brings a hand to the side of his face, turning his head to look at her, “and we love you,” she lightly touched her lips to his before pulling back, “thank you for asking me to sing, I hadn’t realised it had been so long. I missed it.”

Chim took on a boyish grin as he bumped her shoulder, “You know I have a terrible singing voice, probably would have made her cry instead of fall asleep.” He said causing her to laugh.

He bumped gently into her shoulder again when her laughter died down, “Hey, you’re welcome. I missed it too.”

She smiled at him gratefully. Things didn’t change miraculously overnight but singing slowly because a staple in the household once again, bringing back a touch of life to the apartment that was once missing.

#jess writes #my fic #prompt ask #maddie buckley #chimney han #madney #madney fic #ask #jess answers #userkourt #userkimmy

16 notes · View notes

vxier · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I ask for Yu and Junbai fanfictions (from killer and healer). Any theme is good but my favorites are fluff, angst and hurt/comfort. Thank you

Hi @mahan734 !! Sorry this took a while, I was debating on writing fluff or angst but the latter got to me ;’) This pair was literally made for angst and hurt/comfort so I hope you’ll like it!

Note: This fic is NOT SPOILER FREE and takes place before the whole mess unfolded <3

Edit: Available on AO3 too!

Canary

Yu Tang Chun has died once.

It happened years ago. No mourners and no funerals, only the memory of a young boy and his lineage obliterated in a single day. Back then, he hoped he too would drop dead like his mother. It would be a lie to say the thought was not tempting the first few years, but anger was a demanding force. He knew the only way to get back at the bastard with that cursed watch was to survive.

Like a phoenix, he was reborn– The red silks were his wings of fire, the stage his kingdom of gold, and his voice the second chance at a life.

After all that, he tells himself he isn’t scared of dying again. Yet as Tang Chun stands alone in the back garden of the Zhan estate, he shivers.

With autumn approaching, the winds carry a piercing cold with it. The singer ignores the way his breath fogs in the air, pulling his robe tighter around his shoulders. For now it’s him and the moon as his faithful audience.

For the last few weeks, Tang Chun has been sneaking out in the dark of night between security shifts. It isn’t difficult when the back garden is the least guarded area in the estate with its tall metal gates and sharp barbed wire.

On some nights, it’s difficult to distinguish if they were there to keep him safe or to keep him.

Zhan Jun Bai, a man who can have everything and everyone yet he still insisted on letting the singer stay longer in the Zhan mansion. Just what exactly is going through his head? Tang Chun wonders as he looks up at the heavens, singing Jun Bai’s favourite song.

Ever since the accident, his voice had deteriorated at an even faster rate. His late night practices have not been producing the promising results he was hoping for. Tonight is not any better– the singer can barely get through the first verse of a song without his throat itching.

With each shaky note, his fists tighten.

Zhan Jun Bai was generous enough to let him recover in his mansion despite getting nothing in return. Everyday, Tang Chun tries offering anything from handmade gifts to a premium seat at the opera, everything he could muster whilst knowing they are mere drops in Jun Bai’s sea of fortune. And everyday, the executive would smile and say, “Don’t worry about that.” as if it made his worries go away.

Jun Bai had only regarded him as someone worthy of being in his line of vision because of his voice, no? Yet now without it, why is he still treating Tang Chun with such hospitality?

It’s now that Yu Tang Chun painfully realizes that he isn’t the same phoenix who was reborn from the tragedy that befell his family. He’s a songbird who can’t even sing.

Perhaps there is satisfaction in keeping him here as everyday is a reminder that his fate lies in the executive’s hands.

His voice cracks at the second verse and Tang Chun winces. Amateur mistake, he should not have messed up. The singer tries again, ignoring the stinging pain now spreading to the center of his chest.

No, Zhan Jun Bai could have ignored his very presence if he was doing it to fuel a saviour complex. He wouldn’t have woken up early to eat breakfast together, or offer to teach the singer how to shoot a gun that he, too gifted.

A voice whispers that Jun Bai might have done it out of… affection. The notion is quickly pushed away. Because what else can Jun Bai love if it isn’t his voice?

He chokes on a note. A chilling void settles in his body as he realizes the grains of time are slipping out from his fingertips.

Many moons ago, the singer had told Chen Yu Zhi that he would rather die an early death if it meant getting to do what he loved most, to sing. He didn’t expect the doctor to understand. It’s something shared by all artists, that once they are unable to create, they are said to have died their first death. In his case, it will be his second. Yet now, with the looming possibility rolling in, all he wants is to crawl away from it.

Amidst the tears rolling down his face, Tang Chun ignores the figure approaching from the corner of his eye. He inhales frantically, forcing enough air into his lungs to continue.

“Master Yu?” a silhouette pauses at the entrance of the garden before walking briskly to join the lonesome singer.

Only after tasting metal did Tang Chun realize that the words on his tongue were actually blood. It doesn't faze him. He sings louder, both fists balled up so tightly that he can already see the crescent-shaped indents on his palms.

“Master Yu, what are you doing?”

The melody scrapes its way out like sandpaper and the pain is evident in each syllable. The grass behind him crunches underneath quick feet but that’s irrelevant. Get it right, come on, you cannot die like this.

The singer is one line away from finishing the verse when the blood clogs his airways and he hacks, spluttering out a dark crimson.

“Yu Tang Chun!” His knees give away. A jacket is wrapped around his frail body and with it, a warm body presses closer. Within the small distance, Tang Chun catches the tremble in his voice.

Mindlessly, he leans against the body, soaking in the warmth radiating from it. Above him, Zhan Jun Bai has an arm over his shoulders and yells for someone to get a doctor. Who could possibly be awake at this time? The singer wants to laugh, but instead he heaves over, covering his mouth and swallowing down a surge of blood.

“Executive Zhan, was I being too loud?” Another fit of coughs shake his whole body. A careful hand strokes up and down his back and Tang Chun tries his best smile, purposely looking down at the grass caught between his fingers.

Jun Bai places his hands under the singer’s chin and pulls his face up to get a better look. It’s the least Tang Chun wants at the moment. He looks unseemly, pale and sickly aside from the blood tinting his lips.

“What were you thinking? The doctor has warned you against straining yourself.”

A flare of anger sends his heart rate spiking and the pain pricks at his throat. He places both hands on Jun Bai’s chest and tries to push him away but the other man only pulls him closer, hand now holding him down by the neck. To this, Tang Chun grits out, “I know my limits.”

“Then why do you keep testing them?” Trapped in his arms, Tang Chun feels like a little bird with a broken wing, still fighting to fly while Jun Bai cradles him in pity.

Pity, it’s always pity.

“I can’t stay here.” The singer has had enough of that. He doesn’t want Jun Bai to see him like this. Weak, and broken and powerless. Just like he was as a boy. Tang Chun makes one last attempt to pull free and fails– If he can’t run, then he’ll hide.

Reluctantly, the singer buries his face against the other’s neck. Despite his continuous attempt to distance himself from the older man, a selfish voice deep down tells him he doesn’t want to be thrown out. That he wants to stay close to Jun Bai, to know that the other man needs him.

And as Jun Bai holds him tighter, he’s terrified at how close it feels to having that wish come true.

“Why can’t you stay here? Tell me, what do you need? I’ll get you anything you want.” The pair of arms around his waist tighten enough to pull a weak gasp out of the singer. Another surge of tears break through.

“It’s not about what you give me, it’s what I can’t give you.” whimpers the younger, looking up to meet Jun Bai’s eyes for the first time that night. To his surprise, they were glassy and especially beautiful underneath the moonlight, “You’ve done more than enough. Meanwhile I can’t even sing to you as I promised. I don’t deserve all the kindness you’ve shown me, Executive Zhan.”

Jun Bai looks lost for a moment. His face irons flat, almost cold, before it twists into a scowl.

“Who told you that? Give me their names.”

“No one!” Tang Chun grips onto Jun Bai’s arms before the man gets to stand up and roast every single one of his staff for a crime they did not commit. “The me who can no longer sing is the me who has lost everything. I won’t have anything left to give-”

“You don’t owe me anything.” hisses the executive, his grasp bruising the singer’s arms. Tang Chun is a deer in headlights. This new side of him was shocking and it scared him for a second. Such anger comes rare to a man like him, and the singer is beyond surprised to find himself as the match that sparked it all.

“I first invited you to stay here because I valued you as a priceless talent, a rare gem.” Upon feeling the younger freeze in his hold, Jun Bai’s expression thaws.

“After the incident, a part of me could not live knowing you had risked your life to save mine. I wanted to make it up to you.” His grip on the younger’s arms loosen, rubbing at them in apology before they slither down to take Tang Chun’s cold hands in his own. It’s hard to focus when Jun Bai’s thumbs keep stroking over his knuckles as he speaks.

The singer doesn’t notice the tears rolling down again until Jun Bai reaches up to swipe them away. The hand moves up to his face and freezes an inch away from the younger’s cheek, “The other part of me wants to keep you here because it’s no longer your voice I needed every night,”

Tang Chun exhales slowly and leans into Jun Bai’s touch.

“It’s your company.”

Behind them, the rustle of people approach, yet the executive does not pull away. If people see, then they see. No one would dare peep anyways.

“Stay with me?”

Tang Chun stares at him for a good moment. Soaking it in. Soaking the fact that Jun Bai wants him here. The mansion is just a house but Jun Bai is home. He feels his resolve weaken, and Tang Chun slinks down to lean against the other’s shoulder.

“Alright.” He whispers, warm breath fanning across the elder’s neck as the tension seeps from his bones. Jun Bai also releases a deep breath and catches the singer in a hug. Wrapping him tighter this time, as if Tang Chun would be blown away by the wind if he were to let go.

Above them, the moon retreats behind the clouds as the actor steps down from the stage, the canary returns to its cage and the show draws to an end.

#vxier writes #yu tangchun #zhan junbai #killer and healer #kill and heal #恨君不似江楼月 #fanfiction #cdrama #tangbai

23 notes · View notes

itstittycitybaby · 4 years

Text

From the Ashes We are Born (Part 5)

a/n: take fucking two of posting this bc tumblr likes to fuck me over djdjjdjd. something that always bothered me with evey is the fact she left V?? I get not wanting to be stuck with a stranger for an entire year but you were the one who maced the cop. you decided to do it not v. he did not ask u to. now v torturing her there's not rlly a jusitifed excuse even though i can see why but it's still not justified either way. anyways as always enjoy.

Summary: V is away tending to his daily anarchist duties, which leaves you facing the wake of a treacherous thunder storm alone! Fluff ensues.

a/n 2: oh my god. i finally got the fucking gifs to work. had to navigate back and forth i stg I'm gonna dethrone the Tumblr god.

The music from your phone played throughout the deafening silence of the gallery. The infamously known masked criminal had left the gallery to commit his “righteous duties”. That’s how your friend, V, put it anyways. London was weeping over its people, at least, that’s what V had said once he heard the rain slapping the roof. Why can’t he just say it’s pouring, you thought to yourself as V fluttered about the house. “Dramatic as always V,” you snickered as you stood there watching him preparing to leave. You had been staying in the Shadow Gallery for a few months now. You weren’t very stoked to having to stay here for a year, but you had to. After all, you had sealed your fate after macing that cop. Even though you were upset about having to be stuck here away from your paints and gaming consoles, you understood. It was your decision to save him, he hadn’t asked you too.

V’s underground home was deadly quiet as he got ready. The playful aura and laughter was now gone. It felt lonely and cold, something you guessed V had felt before you arrived. “Hey V,” you asked, fidgeting with the flowy skirt you wore. “Yes?” The man in question picked up his notorious black hat and put it on top of his head. He smoothed his hair and turned to you after looking in the mirror once more. “C-can I,” you started, cheeks flushing a bright pink, “Can I have a hug?” You felt awkward as you stood there playing with your skirt. V didn’t say anything as he stared at you. The smiling mask was unsettling to look at with the awkward air and embarrassment you felt. “Y-y'know what, forget I asked,” you stammered, starting to turn before throwing a “good luck and goodbye” kinda thing. You heard him sigh. V wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to his chest. The scent of lemon and the smell of pine made you hum. Your arms snaked around his middle as you stood there, together in front of the T.V. You were thankful V couldn’t see your beet red face. His mask rested atop your head and you shivered at the rumble of his chest as he spoke. “Forgive me, I was taken aback is all.” You pulled away a bit looking at the eyes of his mask. “It’s alright, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “Nonsense my dear, you have yet to do so.” Oh we definitely have a crush. You pulled away giving him a smile. “Be safe okay V? I mean it. If you come home almost dead on the porch again, so help me, your bullet wounds won’t be the thing killing you.” V laughed, the sound of it making your heart giddy. “Of course, mademoiselle.” The tension between the two you was thick, neither of you breaking eye contact. Feeling bold, you grasped V’s shoulder with your hand and stood on your tippy toes. “D-dove-,” he started. You interrupted him, though. Your soft lips placed themselves on the cheek of his mask. “A good luck charm,” you said softly as you pulled away. Giving V’s shoulder one last squeeze, you let him go. “I shall return soon,” V said as he left. You scolded him again about being reckless, and to be safe . Your heart sank as V’s echoing footsteps faded away leaving you standing alone and cold.

“ I love you baby , and if it’s quite alright I need you baby,” you sang as you grabbed the acrylic paint V had gotten for you. The clock read 1:54 on the wall while the rain continued to pour outside into the night. V had yet to return from doing god knows what in the streets. The smears of white and red paint were splattered across your arms and thighs. The scent of paint and V’s musky smell mixed together as you painted. Your arms and body tingled from the warm embrace he had given you. Thoughts of V took over as your paint brush made graceful strokes on the canvas. Did he even like you back? “As if,” you huffed. “He’s a man with taste.” But what about the pet names? And the flowers! He brings us flowers once he comes back. “He’s british, being called love and darling is something normal here. The flowers don’t mean anything. It’s not like an obvious red rose or anything,” you told yourself. Stop daydreaming and just accept the fact that V doesn’t like you like in that way.

4:33 . “Where the hell is he,” you muttered. The rain continued to pour outside. Your canvas was set drying on the table and you flipped through your phone to entertain yourself. Thank god for a VPN. You laughed at a funny meme as you scrolled through your feed. The lights flickered. You sucked in a breath and waited. CRASH! You jumped at the loud bang of thunder. Trying to calm yourself down, you continued to scroll through Twitter. The anxiety in your stomach wouldn’t stop eating away. V was out there in this godforsaken storm. What if he got hurt? What if he died? “Stop,” you told yourself sternly. “He’ll be fine.”

Pop! Darkness embraced you as you sat there. The lights are out. Your breaths became shallow; the dim white light of your phone providing some kind of light source. “Calm down,” you whispered. “We’re gonna be fine.” Turning on your phone’s flashlight and using it as a torch, you crept to the bedroom. Loud crashes and noises made your hair stand up on end. Loud noises meant trouble. Loud noises meant a tantrum from your dad had started or something was here, waiting . Silence meant peace. Silence meant safety.

There was some sense of relief as you made it to the room and closed the door. Diving under the blankets, you whimpered as lightning struck. You curled into yourself and laid there. Hoping that the storm would pass, or V would come home. His scent on the sheets was the only solace you had. He will come home, eventually. You wished for V’s arms to hold and comfort you like the very few times he did before. Usually after a panic attack or when you were at the lowest of your lows. You wanted him to finish reading Lord of the Rings to you and help lull you to sleep. But V wasn’t here. V wasn’t going to hold you, or read you to sleep. He was out saving the country he so loved from it’s awful dictator. You’re weak. V wouldn’t want someone weak. He wants someone brave, and courageous. Someone who’s willing to die for what they love.

A sob bubbled up in your throat and tears threatened to escape from your eyes. You couldn’t breathe; you felt suffocated under the sheets, but if you moved you’d be open, vulnerable. Vulnerability is a weakness, being sad and scared is a weakness. How disgusting you must have looked. Hiding like a small child from the scary monster in their closet. How disgusted would V be if he found you here, under his sheets that were now wet with tears. We need to calm down. We need to stop crying. How pathetic we must look right now. He should’ve left you in that station to die. You deserve to die, you deserve to- .

“Love?” V’s voice broke your thoughts. He sounded so soft and gentle. You cursed at yourself for not noticing the door opening. Now he was going to see how pathetic you really were. V’s black boots slid across the floor when he made way into the room.You felt the bed dip beside you as you laid there. Your breath caught in your throat as you laid there silently under the sheets. Please go away, please don’t uncover the sheets. The cool air hit you as V pulled the sheets back. Cursing at your luck, you took a peak. Funny how creepy the smiling mask was in the dark. V’s hat was still perched on his head, you realized. His gloved fist was curled around something in his hand. A rose.

“My songbird, what is the matter,” V asked as he took in your tear stricken face. The moonlight shone onto your beautiful face, revealing the wetness of your cheeks. How beautiful you were. V felt guilty once he saw you huddled under the covers, hiding from something. Could it be from yourself? “You’re late,” you croaked, “it’s almost 5 am.” “I apologize my dear, something went a bit south.” You didn’t say anything. Your eyes clenched shut and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip from trembling. V’s head cocked to the side, his lips pulled into a frown underneath the mask. He called out your name. The softness and caring tone made your eyes snap back at him. Suddenly, a crash of thunder hit. You flinched and wormed yourself underneath the sheets even more. V simultaneously realized, at that very moment, how terrified you were of thunder. He felt stupid as he sat there, staring at your shaking form. Of course you would try to seek out comfort whenever you were scared or moody. Hiding was your last resort if there was no comfort to be found. A hand stroked your head causing you to tense up.

The leather of the glove felt cool, and smooth. Brows drawn, you looked up at V. His right arm extended to you, with the gift he had brought. “V,” you whispered as you stared at him with shock. You gently wrapped your hand around the stem, taking it from his hands. “An apology for returning so late…and to ask for a courtship. With you,” V stammered. Even with the mask, you knew V was flustered. “It’s about time,” you joked, your voice a bit hoarse. “Ah yes, well you see I was so nervous and I-I've never-” You cut him off with your lips. The odd but smooth material of the mask’s lips felt foreign against your soft, warm ones.

V didn’t even have to feel your lips to know they were the softest thing to exist. He just knew. You pulled away slowly, your cheeks warming up a bit. You were bashful, a gentle smile swept across your lips. “Thank you for the rose, it’s beautiful.” “My beautiful maiden, it is quite dark in here. You could not be quite sure of such a thing.” “I’ll kiss you again, V.” You giggled, as he shut up.

“Close your eyes and keep them closed,” V said. You looked at him confused, “Why?” “I have another gift.” A brow was raised in his direction. He just gestured at you, waiting patiently. “You’re acting pretty sus not gonna lie, but ok.” Your eyes fluttered shut. Time seemed to pass by awfully slow as you waited. Not to mention, the dark that encased you as your lids closed. “V?” “I’m right here love.” You heard something untying and felt something being placed on the bed. How badly you wanted to open your eyes, but you would not betray V like that. The smoothness of his gloves grasped both of your cheeks softly. His fingers stroked them and held cupped your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut, fighting the urge to open them. What was he doing? Your breath stopped at a halt; his breath was on your lips. He’s going to kiss me! His mask is off! You swallowed nervously as you waited. That’s when you felt it.

V’s lips were rough and felt scarred. The texture was very different from your own, but you didn’t care. In fact, you cherished it. A sigh escaped your lips as your fingers clutched his cloak, pulling him closer. Teeth nibbled at your lips playfully. V’s scent filled your senses and you felt your head starting to become dizzy. You almost whined once his lips pulled away from yours. Eyes still closed, you waited for the signal to open them again. Your ears perked up as you heard the rustling of cloth and a little grunt from V. “Thank you darling, you can open your eyes again.” There were little dots and squiggles as you opened your eyes, moving in the air. You were a little sad to see the mask on again, but knew better than to press. V would give you the world, but he was still insecure about his skin. You were curious to see him, especially after the glimpse of damaged skin you had seen on his hands. But, you knew better than to ask, let alone force him to show you.

V placed his hat on the bedside table next to him. He was surprised to find you had fallen asleep, though it was quite late. He quietly shimmied out of his cloak and set his knives down on the nightstand. A sigh escaped his lips as he got into more comfortable clothing, followed by discarding his gloves on the table beside him. You had wrapped V around your finger; encasing him with your humour and your kindness. He was at your mercy. You had captivated the man who thought he could no longer feel love. Oh how wrong he was. V wrapped his arms around you and held you close. His art swelled a bit at the sleepy hum you gave him. Your head rested lightly on V’s chest and his arms snuggled you tightly. Your soft snores filled the room once again and V couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Eventually, the masked vigilante fell asleep; the comfort of your love and beauty keeping him warm at night.

#v for vendetta #v for vendetta x reader #x reader

141 notes · View notes

sablesides-ask-blog · 3 years

Note

Remus Rescuing Virgil From Romulus So Virgil Can Rescue Roman?

Virgil had already lost track of the days he'd been stuck, he couldnt sing or speak or even whine anymore, he just lay at the bottom of his cage taking whatever scraps Romulus threw to him. The only sounds he could make were barely audible squeaks and groans.

"Its so boring here without my songbird you know. . . So bleak and dreary, cant you try to sing something for me darling?" Romulus was smirking, he always was, he knew the answer.

But he didnt really care about the singing. He just cared that he could watch Virgil bleed after another scratch across the face.

"Such a shame. . . You used to be such a pretty little thing," said Romulus with a low growl.

"I think he's still quite the looker," Virgil froze as he heard Remus' voice, attempting a strained cry of warning before succumbing to a fit of coughing and blood.

"Oh, hello Remus. So happy you could join us," Romulus turned on his heel, a sadistic grin on his face.

"I'm not here for parties. I'm here for my brother-in-law." Remus growled.

"I'm afraid you must be mistaken, Virgil is my husband, therefore he's not your brother-in-law," said Romulus. Virgil tried to strain protest.

"Let him go or so help me I'll rip your organs out and force feed them back to you like a one-man human centipede." Remus said with a snarl.

"I'd like to see you try," Romulus taunted.

And then there blinding flashes of light, and someone was grabbing Virgil's hand, and he was running and he was far away from Ronulus.

And then he was thrown against glass, not harshly, nothing had broken, gently, as though he could just slide off.

But looking inside he realized he had something else to worry about.

Virgil tore the glass top off the case and pressed his lips desperately to Roman's, tears running down his face.

And then he felt arms around his waist.

"Virgil? Virgil baby is that you? Oh look at your face baby I'm so sorry," Virgil winced as his and Roman's lips parted, Roman's face was creased with worry.

"You di-" Virgil tried to explain away what he knew Roman must be thinking, only to give into another fit of coughs.

"Nonono baby it's alright, stay with me baby, please? It's alright, you're safe now, hes gone," Virgil held onto Roman's arms like his life depended on it, and then what may have been years of isolation and abuse seemed to catch up with him all at once, and the world went dark. But only for a moment, for soon it gave way to dreams, happy dreams, but ones that were most definitely for sleep, and in those dreams, only the soothing sounds of Roman's voice.

Everything was back to normal, and with any luck, it was going to stay that way.

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@nova-xx

@softestpatton

@meowthefluffy

@a-deceit-salad

@nerosdayinhell

@curmisery

@willowaudreykeyes

@frawkeye

@the-sad-strawberry

@sneaky-slytherin

#cori answers #pridexiety #romantic prinxiety #prinxiety #ts roman #ts pride roman #ts romulus #ts remus #ts virgil #tw abuse #tw blood #tw torture #toxic relationship

26 notes · View notes

thewritingdesk · 3 years

Text

It Had to be You ~ Part Two

Summary: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walked into hers. Lin Beifong saw the world in two colors; black and white. That changes though when she meets the siren working with one of the largest gangs in Republic City.

Azami never had a choice. Didn’t have a way out. But she could destroy things from the inside. She could move information around. She could lie and smile with the best of them.

Neither needed anyone. Neither needed love. So what happens when fate ties them together? Can they save each other? Or will a smoking gun end something before it begins

A/N: A 1930s/40s LOK AU. Note that there will be themes that were present during this time including smoking, drinking, underlying homophobia, and potentially smut later on down the line. Writer’s views are not that of the characters.

Word count: 2046

In a city that shines from both street lights and stars, you’d think that all that glittered was gold. That truly, such a marvel of a city had achieved a beautiful balance in the world and everyone lived peacefully. Crime is minimal and the law has won.

But Azami knew better. The mirror’s reflection reminded her of that.

She’d experienced what it had been like to beg for her meal and hope the abandoned building had a dry place for her to sleep. And that the cops wouldn’t kick her out if they found her. Her parents had died young. Trip Threats said her father owed them money. Tossed him in the bay tied to a boulder. Her mother had been shot in the head when she’d tried to run. Azami hid in their pantry and heard it all.

She’d been fifteen when she took her first stage job. A lie and enough makeup to pass for eighteen had gotten her the gig. When they’d figured out her talents when it came that, the smaller leagues used her to move information around. Supply runs and caches for those that had needed them. Throw off the larger gangs and the police in hopes to feed those that the rest of the world turned their back on.

Brush strokes through her hair. One-two-three-four. Moving in time to the tinny sound of a trumpet and drum. Eyes that she displayed for the world that filled themselves with fires looked tired. Cheeks were gaunt.

“Nothing a little makeup can’t fix, doll.”

Takao had said to her after he’d smacked her across the face for sneaking the bus boy some food from the kitchen. Never enough to bruise. Only enough to control. Him and the four cronies that had started to show up more and more to stir things up. Setting the brush down, fingers pinned the front of her dark brown locks into a victory roll, leaving the rest of her hair to curl around her shoulders.

“Dyke freak like her would want ‘em soft.”

Feed the chief lies. Hook her with a smile. Leave her always wanting more, but remember, stay out of reach.

Nightingale, that is what they’d started calling her. Her voice was melodic and rang clear like the songbird. She fluttered around and went unnoticed, like the songbird. She was caged, like a songbird. The stage was her cage, no matter how she loved it. No matter how she had lied to herself and painted it in gold.

It was on the stage that Takao had discovered her. Had found her her family had been, and what her father had once been. It was the stage that he’d watched her eyes linger not on the men that came through the door. It was the stage that he chained her to the floor.

“Remember, little bird, the world has no sympathy for a freak with no power.”

Men like Takao had seized power after the uprisings that forced the council to step down as the head of the city. They had turned a blind eye to things such as who could love who. The president who was easily bought, easily swayed, was not so easily blinded. It was this man who had let the three major gangs begin to take over the city. Allowed for those who had already oppressed, already crippled, to only feel the hand around their throat tighten. It was his fault that she…

“Ten more minutes until curtain, Miss Nightingale.”

Jumping from her reverie, Azami turned to the young boy who had come to her door and nodded to him. Thanking him quietly, she quickly moved to dress in the crimson red dress that had been selected. The dress hugged and skimmed over her hips and showed off her thin waist. The V in the back showing off the soft skin, while thin straps sat on her shoulders.

A doll, she was a doll.

Slipping into her shoes, white gloves were slipped on before she left the room and headed for the stage.

Lin wasn’t sure how she found herself back in the smoke filled club. Or how she found herself seated at a table, whiskey in hand, rather than leaning against the bar. She’d even gone home to change out of her uniform. Black trousers that cinched high on her waist paired with the white silk blouse that tapered into her form, two buttons left open to allow her neck to be seen. She’d kept the bun, but put on some lipstick.

Maybe it had been something in those eyes that made her forget herself. She was just here to get information, she’d be able to sit without standing out dressed like this.

That’s what she told herself anyway.

So lost in her thoughts Lin had been that she hadn’t noticed Azami take the stage, hadn’t noticed the shift in the room as it stilled. Waiting for the first notes from the maestro that stood on the stage.

“Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this”

The siren’s pull had moved from her ears and down to her belly. The smooth sounds catching her off guard as pale green eyes sought out the darker green ones. Something was off about them tonight. The fire was still there, and they still held hers captive but there was something deeper. Something Lin couldn’t put a word to.

“Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me.”

The song faded as eyes locked, whiskey came to her lips and burned her throat. An anchor. Something to hold her there. She couldn’t fall under the spell completely if she was still feeling the burn of the alcohol. If she could feel the outside world still tugging at her.

Unlike the previous night, she didn’t make her way to her immediately. She waited. She listened as she sang through the upbeat tunes. Watched as she accepted a martini from a man, only to set it back on the bar when his back had turned.

Sitting back in her chair, she pulled her own cigarette from its case a bit too forcefully before lighting and releasing her own mark into the air. She knew she was there.

Azami had felt the chief’s eyes on her most of the night. Felt them as she made her rounds, made her wait. Tempted her to fetch her from the hands of others. She was almost disappointed when she didn’t. Finally making her way to the table, she offered Lin one of her signature smiles before taking her seat.

“I’m glad you could make it, chief. Did you enjoy the set?” Azami asked, a finger motioning one of the waiters over. Ordering herself another gin and tonic she sat back in her chair.

Lin brought the cigarette back to her lips and had just pulled a drag from it when fingers reached over and plucked it from her hand. She watched the other woman bring it to her lips deliberately, eyes never leaving hers and watching her expectantly.

“It was...good.” Her hand reached for the cigarette when it was handed back to her, noticing the way the two lipsticks seemed to mingle. “Now, about our deal.”

“Patience isn’t your strong suit, is it chief?” Azami asked, offering the waiter a winning smile when her drink was brought to her. “While I enjoy my drink for a moment, why don’t you tell me about your day.”

“My day? Why the fuck would you want to know--”

“Do you see that man behind me? The one in the obnoxious red suit?” Azami asked and waited until she received a nod from the chief before speaking again. “That’s Jun. Not a major player so he wouldn’t be on your radar, but he reports back to Ju-long who…”

“Who is one of the higher ups to the Agni Kai triad.” Lin finished and reached for her drink.

“Very good, chief.” Sipping her drink, Azami watched the woman. “All of these men know you. All of them are trying to discern if you’re you, or if you’re just another woman.”

“And what happens if they find out?” Lin asked, sipping her whiskey.

“They let you go the other night. Coming in more than once means one of two things; you’re willing to be bought, or you’re on to something. Guess it depends which you present to them.” Azami answered, setting her glass down.

She could feel Takao’s eyes on her and tried to ignore it. Instead she tried to focus on the pale green of Lin’s eyes, she wondered if she realized there were small auburn fleks in the green. Probably not.

“And how did a lady like you get caught up in this?”

“A lady she says, been a while since someone called me that.” Azami chuckled and folded her arms. “That’s a long, sad story. Maybe I’ll let you convince me to tell you about it, one day. Now, to our deal, there’s four people that keep coming in to speak with the owner, two men, two women. One of the men seems to be the ringleader, keeps one of the dames on his arm. Not sure what their deal is, seems to be upset about that young kid with ties that could shake up the layers of power. Don’t have any names.”

Lin leaned forward, she’d heard rumor of this group, had heard of the destruction they left behind them. “Can you come down to the station to describe them?”

“And risk my own neck, or find myself in the bottom of the bay? No thanks, chief.”

“We could protect you, Azami.” Lin pointed out, I could protect you, her mind whispered back.

“No, you couldn’t chief.” Azami answered, reaching to finish her drink. “So I guess your need for me is done.”

Let me protect you. Get out of here while you can.

“When is your next set?” Lin asked, almost shocked that the words had escaped her.

“Two nights from now.” Azami answered, watching the woman quietly. Gone were the flirtatious smiles. This woman was good, she didn’t want to drag her into this world. But too many people outside this club relied on her keeping Takao’s eyes off of them. “Should I expect you?”

Swirling the amber fluid in the glass, Lin tossed the rest back and hummed. “Will you have more information for me?”

Sing pretty bird, sing just for me. Sing the sweetest song you ever did see.

“Perhaps. Guess you’ll have to show up and see.” Azami answered and stood. She was tired. Her set was done and the next doll took the stage. She wanted out of the dress. She wanted to remove the facade. She wanted to go home.

A caged little bird, a sweet little doll. Remember child, you’re only as good as what they need you for.

Lin watched Azami walk away as she turned to reach for her grey trench coat. She moved with an effortless grace, but this time her head stayed lowered. Only the staff received any kind of smile when they came over to speak with her on her way to the back door. Had her eyes seemed despondent when she had asked if she’d have more information in two days time?

Now why would you care? Her mind whispered back.

Shaking it off, she stood and began out of the club. This nightingale, Azami, she corrected herself, had been something she’d been trying to look into since their first meeting. But every lead she found seemed to dangle in the wind. Women like that were dangerous. Women like that would get you killed.

But then, why did she feel her stomach clench when the fire in those eyes had dulled? Why had her heart tied up when that voice had hooked her in despite her best attempts to ignore it? Why was she dreaming of green eyed sirens when she closed her eyes?

She needed to get home. She needed a stronger drink. And she needed to crack this mystery so she could leave this woman behind.

#lin beifong #lin x oc #lin beifong x oc #lin beifong/oc #legend of korra #lok fanfic #fanfiction

38 notes · View notes

poptimus-prime · 3 years

Text

Oh no here we go. I have been...Egged On (lovingly.)

I didn’t come up with this concept. You know who you are and I hope you’re happy. (ILU)

My usual Blacklist Tags apply as they fit and will be in the tags, however I will warn above the cut for: Major character death (but not really), attempted Fratricide, and Megatron being a lying bitch.

Please don’t read if you’re not in a good headspace in general I want you to stay safe. <3

This will be put on AO3 probably tonight IDK.

“Megatronus? You said you wanted to meet me here?”

“Yes I did, dear friend.” Megatron had a ghost of a smile on his lips, gently wrapping an arm around Orion’s shoulders so he wouldn’t turn back. “I want to show you something.”

“You do?” Orion’s eyes twinkled like stars as he smiled. Megatron sighed internally as he opened the ground bridge, flip-flopping as he considered the choice he was about to make.

------

“Are you sure you can do this?” Knockout had asked him as he punched in coordinates. “He IS your brother in this state.”

“My brother died on Cybertron.” Megatron spat, before a softness came to his voice. “And even as he is revived and before me, he still holds his form, and the Autobot pets of Optimus Prime will never give up. I would rather him perish by my own hand than that parasitic Matrix consume him again.”

“...If you say so, my liege.”

------

“Close your eyes.” Megatron almost chirped. “No peeking, Orion.”

Orion brought his servos to his face, maybe spreading his digits to try to peak as they walked through the ground bridge. Mischievous little slag, Megatron thought to himself

“I said no peeking.” Megatron put his own servo in front of Orion’s face as they came out the other side. Personally, he thought the scene was disgusting, honestly—wildflowers, songbirds, the sunset—disgusting organic, Earth things. But...he knew Orion would enjoy it.

“Can I please look noooow, Megatronus?” Orion was squirming a bit. Impatiently curious as ever.

“You can.” Megatron removed his servo for Orion to see, and a pain shot through his spark as the smaller bot gasped in a nostalgic, familiar wonder.

“It’s so beautiful, Megatronus.” Orion spoke, keeping that same wonder. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“Of course, Orion.” Megatron forced a smile. “You have been working so hard, all cooped up in that lab. You deserve a little break.”

Orion leaned against Megatron, resting his helm against his shoulder. “I did need a break. I appreciate you taking the time to spend it with me, Brother.”

Megatron’s spark kept burning in pain as the sky turned from dusky orange to purple and then to dark blue, stars lighting up the night sky in ways Orion could only imagine until now. His face stayed perpetually lit up in absolute adoration for the scene, occasionally taking in a vent to smell the wildflowers and humming along with the birds.

The last thing the archivist expected was Megatron to walk in front of him. His friend’s ion cannon in his face, charging.

His spark fell into his tanks and his mouth went dry as he looked up at Megatron. His friend—his brother—was crying as the cannon continued charging.

“Megatronus…?”

“Shhh, Orion...just.” Megatron took a shaky vent to stabilize himself. “Just offline your optics. I...I promise this will be fast. You will not be in pain.”

“What are you doing?!” Orion demanded, starting to cry himself.

“...Some sparks were not made for war, Orion.” He spoke softly, sounding like he was choking. “You are one of those sparks. And I would rather you have a quick, painless death than the slow torture you would endure if the Autobots got their disgusting hands on you…”

Orion’s lips were pressed tightly together, his naïveté taking hold as the implications of Megatron’s explanation ran through his processor. “I...will miss you, Megatronus. But I trust your judgement. Do it.”

Megatron cursed silently. Even as the gladiator stood before Orion, about to kill him...he still trusted him. He shifted his canon down to Orion’s waist, pressed in a place that would kill him fast enough, but not instantly.

He looked away as the canon fired and Orion’s screams of pain chased the birds away. When he looked back, Orion’s face was frozen in a silent scream, and he slowly collapsed against Megatron’s chest.

Megatron bit back a scream of sorrow as he ran a clawed servo against Orion’s helm, petting him gently for a few seconds before lifting him up in a fireman’s carry and bringing him over to a patch of soft grass under a tree. He shuddered as Orion’s Energon dripped down onto his shoulder, but continued on. Orion looked up at him weakly as he was laid down. Afraid.

“I am so sorry, Brother.” Megatron sighed. “I have to leave you now. I...cannot handle watching you be robbed from me by this war again.”

Orion took a shaky vent before his optics offlined suddenly. Megatron thanked Primus that his brother’s spark extinguished quickly.

The gladiator looked up at the branches of the tree as he attempted to stop his tears. An olive tree. Symbol of peace or...something. Orion loves...loved that sappy metaphoric slag. Megatron ripped off a branch and laid it across Orion’s chest before he turned around, requesting a ground bridge.

------

Seconds after Megatron left, Orion’s optics onlined again, and he gasped out as he began crying softly. He was scared, in pain, leaking Energon…

And abandoned. By his brother, no less.

#tw emotional abuse #because the lying #tw physical abuse #just in case #tw robogore #tfp megatron #tfp orion pax #luna writes a cohesive thing? gasp #major canon divergence up in this bitch #if this is reblogged and tagged as ship I will be coming for your kneecaps #I'm sorry but this is not the place #They explicitly call each other brothers in this bitch

27 notes · View notes

lvllns · 4 years

Text

you're like the sun that gives the moon its glow

the wayhaven chronicles. mason x sparrow kingston (nb detective). ~1.9k words. rated m for mature implied sex and language mostly. this is fluff. it’s basically “mason traces tattoos and freckles” the fic.

[read on ao3]

Sparrow is stretched out on their bed, arms raised over their head and legs crossed at the ankles. Their eyes are closed, face a mask of serenity, and there’s a part of Mason that takes that as an ego boost considering what they just finished doing.

He watches them silently, gaze flickering from their hands to their toes. Up and down. Over and over. It’s novel to stay like this. To lie here and just look his fill without feeling like he needs to leave. To get out because he doesn’t stick around. That’s all changed recently and it still twists him up inside. Nat keeps giving him looks, and Felix keeps needling him about love and it’s not like that.

It’s not.

Sparrow is just...well, it doesn’t matter.

Because right now, they’re naked atop their sheets, still a little flushed, and it’s ridiculous how endearing the light pink dusting their cheeks is. Mason reaches over and swipes his thumb over the bridge of their nose. They scrunch their face up, lips pulling in a small smile, but they keep their eyes shut. Gently, he cups their cheek. Stares intently at their face. Painted with freckles, clusters coloring across their face and down to the rest of their body. Their nose, Grecian as it is, pulls his attention and he runs the pad of his index finger from between their brows to the tip of their nose.

“Is it still attached to my face?” Their smile grows wide enough to flash teeth.

Mason snorts. “Seems to be.”

They hum. Tilt their head a little to lean into his touch as much as they can, chasing after his hand like a flower seeking the sun.

He pulls away. Slips from them like water to recline on his side, propping his head up on his hand, elbow on the mattress. They shift, wiggle really, and burrow a little deeper into the blankets. Reaching out, he touches a tattoo on their right side, over their ribs. Handwriting he doesn’t recognize. Sparrow freezes, their body going tight and tense for a moment before relaxing again.

“Can I,” he frowns as he pulls his hand away. “I don’t recognize the handwriting.”

They swallow hard. Reach up and press their palm over the tattoo with ease, like they’ve done it a million times and maybe they have. “You wouldn’t,” they whisper, voice tight. Sparrow clears their throat and shakes their head. “It’s my father’s handwriting.”

“Oh,” Mason says. He blinks rapidly a few times, shuffles through everything he knows about Sparrow and their father and realizes it’s very little. Aside from that one conversation, they’ve never spoken about him. He isn’t sure what to say, where to take this from here, and he opens his mouth a few times like a dying fish before they continue.

“It was written on the back of a picture of the two of us, mum had to have taken it.” Their eyes are still closed, they smile again though it’s distinctly sad this time. Mason curls his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out. “I was barely a year old but he was holding me up, spinning me around.”

His eyes drop back to the ink, to the words permanently written on their pale skin. Fly bird, fly. He doesn’t stop himself this time when the urge to touch overwhelms him again. Mason traces the letters with his middle finger, the faintest whisper of a touch. Light and fleeting. Goosebumps erupt on Sparrow’s body, racing down their side.

Something settles over them then. Heavier than it should be, he thinks, after the sex they just had. So he does what he does best and avoids whatever is hanging in the air around them. His touch drifts to the dermals they have, four bright studs along the wings of their hip bones. He presses his thumb against one and quirks a brow, though they don’t see.

“When did you get these?”

They make a thoughtful sound, something low, in the back of their throat. “I was eighteen, they came before the tattoos.”

“Really?” He scoots closer. Pulls a leg up so his knee touches their thigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way sweetheart, but I never would have expected piercings like this on you.” He pokes the stud on their hip again as his gaze flicks up to their face.

“Mason, the most outrageous thing I had ever done before I turned eighteen was dye my hair blue without asking when I was twelve.”

He really doesn’t mean to laugh but he does. It bubbles out of him before he can stop it. Sparrow cracks an eye open and tries to glare at him but it’s disgustingly...something. Fond, Mason thinks, fond and something else that he can’t place.

“Have I told you lately that you’re the worst, sunshine?”

“Last thing I remember you telling me before this conversation is ‘please don’t stop, right there’ so—”

They swat at him, giggling and rolling around until he’s on his back and they’re straddling his waist. He catches their wrists in one hand. Holds them loose enough they could get away but Sparrow only splays their palms on his chest and leans forward, hair hanging like a curtain around them, hazel eyes glittering with something that Mason thinks looks a lot like happiness.

His heart skips a beat before picking up just a little. Happy. Are they happy because of him? Or for some other reason? His brows furrow, eyes narrowing, but he shakes his head to clear his mind before anything can pull him from whatever this moment is.

“You didn’t even let me tell you the best part of that story,” Sparrow says as they lean back, fingers tapping a rhythm against his chest that he doesn’t recognize.

“My apologies your highness,” he drawls, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Please, continue.”

They push down on the middle of his sternum with the ring finger of their left hand. “I panicked and dyed my hair back to strawberry blonde two days later because I felt so bad I did it without asking for permission.”

There is no chance of stopping his laughter this time. It bursts from him, loud and unapologetic. Sparrow slips off his lap, returning to lying on their back, as they cover their face and giggle. They snort like they always do when they laugh hard enough, and that sets Mason off again. It takes a few minutes for them both to settle down. He tips his head to the side to look at them, their body stretched out again, all long lean lines of muscle.

He rolls back onto his side. Extends his arm so he can touch the tattoo on their right thigh. Geometric with a sunflower in the middle, done only in black like the rest of the art on their body. “Why a sunflower?”

“It’s my favorite.”

Simple as that, it seems.

Mason moves a leg, hooks his foot around their calf so they’re touching again, and smooths a hand over their side. Aimlessly, he begins to connect their freckles. Dot to dot. Patterns that mean nothing and patterns that mean something, though he isn’t sure why. Memories locked away behind an iron door. A room he has no access to but that his body remembers all the same. Sweeping lines, curls and bursts of starlight. He paints them all in his mind while the pads of his fingers ghost across Sparrow’s body.

They shiver as his touch smooths over their ribs. He knows there’s a spot, down close to their hip, that will drive them to arch into his touch or his mouth. He avoids it. Skips to the side, curling his fingers around to touch their back before slipping down to rest on their thigh. Splayed on their leg like this, his hand covers quite a bit of their skin. Palm resting along the outside, his fingers draped over lazily, the tips brushing their inner thigh.

A pull, like a hook in his chest, snags and lures him closer. He goes willingly until he’s near enough that his leg rests over theirs, knee pressing into the bed between their thighs, and he’s tipped to rest more on his stomach than his side. He removes the hand from their thigh. Reaches up and cups their side, fingers spreading over their ribs, thumb just beneath their left breast.

Over their heart.

He blinks. Looks up and finds Sparrow with their eyes closed, a lazy smile stretched across their face.

A steady beat beneath his hand. Slow. Relaxed. Even. He could set music to their heart. Compose something Sparrow could play on their violin. His fingers curl, blunt nails digging into their skin. Each breath has their chest expanding, and he watches for a moment before he swallows hard.

“I...I should go,” he murmurs, lips close enough to their shoulder to brush against their skin. Sparrow hums but doesn’t speak.

He should go. He should get up, pull his clothes on, and head back to his room down the hall. Staying is new, and sometimes it makes his skin feel too tight still. They let him set the pace, whether he drags himself away or clings to them like he needs their skin against his to breathe properly.

Sparrow exhales through their nose, long and slow. “I need to shower.”

It’s an out if he’s ever seen one.

They’ll head to the bathroom and he can slip away without them watching. He doesn’t know why they prefer it that way, and Mason desperately tries not to think about how much easier it is to walk away when he can’t turn around and see them.

The bed moves, shifts and creaks as they untangle their limbs from his and sit up. Cold air fills the space they leave behind. His hand fists in the sheet, fabric bunching up in his grip as he watches them. Sparrow groans and stretches and their back pops in a few places.

“Did I fuck your back out Songbird?” Mason grins and rolls to the side as they grab for him with an indignant huff. They're grinning though, hands reaching for him as they dive for his hands. He snorts, scrambling away as he asks, “Want me to fuck it back into place?”

Sparrow pauses, kneeling on the bed, one hand still reaching for him as it slowly drops. When their eyes soften, he knows they’ve caught that question for what it truly is.

What he’s really asking for.

A reason to stay.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t, to be honest,” they say with a grin.

Quick as a flash, he’s off the bed. Scooping them up and tossing them over his shoulder while they giggle and squeal. He smacks their ass lightly, a tap more than anything, and turns his head to nip at their thigh. “Settle down or I’ll drop you.”

Sparrow pinches his waist and he growls. “You would never, you like me too much.”

“I like your—”

“Mason!” They laugh, hands hanging down and fingers brushing against his skin as he walks.

“What? Nat’s not here to tell me to stop.”

“Please don’t talk about Nat as you’re walking me to the shower like this.”

He snorts, arm tightening around them to keep them safe over his shoulder, and as he kicks the bathroom door shut to the sound of Sparrow laughing, he tucks the ember that burns in his chest somewhere safe.

#the wayhaven chronicles #agent m #txt #long post #'something short' i said and now here we are almost 2k words later #but hey! it's not smut so!#c: sparrow kingston #mason x sparrow #caiti.txt #can't believe i managed to write something wow amazing #writing tag

22 notes · View notes

moskaisley · 4 years

Text

fear and loathing

gif: @pedroispunk

pairing: javier peña x reader

rating: NC-17!! explicit!!! this is literally porn!!! if ur under, 18+ go away.

warnings: mentions of drugs, alcohol, crime, SMUT MSUSTMSUMUT

word count: 2.9k

summary:

“Oh, maybe I was a little too wild in the 70s Back down to earth with a lounge singer shimmer Elevator down to my make believe residency From the honeymoon suite Two shows a day, four nights a week Easy money”

In the years before Agent Peña was shipped to Colombia, he spent his time lost in the lights of Las Vegas, entangling himself with the lounge singer of the Flamingo Hotel and Casino.

a/n: aka me romanticizing my own city knowing it’s actually a piece of shit town. i would highly recommend u listen to star treatment by arctic monkeys bc i had that record on repeat while writing this :) enjoy space cowboys!

masterlist

The neon lights of Las Vegas were so bright they could burn skin with sin.

People called New York the city that never sleeps, but the Big Apple couldn’t hold a candle to the mirage of chaos situated in the heart of the Mojave. This place was hotter than Hell and the citizens were like snakes, hiding from the beating sun at dawn and slithering out to hunt at dusk. The city was designed to overwhelm its “guests” with temptation. What happens here, stays here: an empty promise disguised as a secret. People talk, and the name had its own proud implication.

You didn’t have to say what you got up to in Vegas, everyone already knows.

The year was 1979. Javier Peña sat in a smoky lounge of the Flamingo, eyes lazily trained on a suited piano man playing away on stage.

He’d never come here willingly, but the DEA had him sent to Sin City investigating its suspicious abundance of every drug under the sun. Though Bugsy Siegel and many of the mobsters were long gone, the mafia still held Vegas by the balls. Their influence was atomic, going so far as to halt Metro in making any sort of move against them. Javi noticed it immediately on his first day in the office; the officers on the force only ever responded to petty crimes and traffic violations. Any call involving suited men and blow were brushed off and away. When Javi confronted one of the detectives, he only laughed in his face,

“Their lawyers are too good, Peña.”

It was only when Javi took a walk down to a shitty convenience store for a pack of cigarettes did he realize the state of the city. He saw a group of kids who couldn’t have been older than 22, high off their ass and stumbling along the sidewalk. He did his best to ignore them, but the group suddenly got louder as a girl was tripping over her heels into the street, an oncoming car only seconds away. He acted quickly grabbing her arm and pulling her flush against him, Rolls Royce tearing down the road, horn blaring at the two of them.

“You saved my life there, Mr. Mustache,” she cooed, “How could I ever repay you?”

When he looked back to her, he tried his best not to cringe. Her pupils were so dilated, he was surprised her eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets. Then, he saw the white powder off the corner of her nostril and his stomach turned. She cackled at him, and he pushed her back to her coked out friends.

Javi learned two things that night: Vegas has horrible drivers, and anyone who came close to this town rotted from the inside out.

He figured that, in order to make any progress here, it would have to come from Hell itself. If he stuck around long enough, maybe he’d find something amongst the fields of ringing slot machines and gaudy carpet.

“Lose all your money already, son?” A voice drew him out of his thoughts. He turned to see a sharply dressed older man.

Javi faked a smile for the sake of being polite, “No, not yet. Maybe in a bit.”

The man chuckled and sat in the leather chair to the left of him, “You should stay. They’ve got quite a show coming up.”

Fancyman bristles beside him reaching inside his breast pocket. The little bag that he pulls out is unmistakable. The high roller notices his stare, “It’ll be especially good with a little bit of this.”

Javi cocks an eyebrow at him and waves him off, “No thanks. I think I’ll just stick with these.”

He gestures to his pack of cigarettes on the small table.

“Suit yourself,” the man settles. He takes the powder on his pinky and snorts it into his nostril.

Javier holds back on rolling his eyes and instead leans into his seat. He pulls a cigarette to his lips, settling in for this magnificent show that Fancyman promised. He rifled through his leather jacket for a lighter, but nothing turned up in his pockets.

“Let me get that for you,” a new, sultry voice whispers into his ears.

Heat creeps up his neck as a hand splays itself across his chest, tracing the exposed skin under his black button up. A golden zippo in perfectly manicured fingers appears before him, flickering to life with a tiny flame. He leans in and takes a drag, acutely aware of the lips inches away from his ear.

“Speak of the devil,” he nearly forgot about his company for the evening, “if it isn’t our little songbird.”

“Always a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Hughes,” Javi is strangely disappointed to hear the voice had drawn away, “Who’s your friend here?”

He turns around to introduce himself, but his name dies in his throat when his eyes catch yours. You could easily be a movie star with your bright red lipstick and perfect waves of hair. His mouth goes dry when you round the corner of his chair and sit on the armrest, lighting your own thin cigarette and storing away your zippo in your fur coat.

“I don’t know, darling, but I think he’s in love.”

“Is that so?” Your perfect lips form a smile as you curl them around the filter, “What’s your name, lover?”

He coughs into his sleeve in an attempt to prevent his voice from rising three octaves.

“Javier,” he says, “It’s just Javi, though..”

Idiot.

“Javier,” he could get drunk on the way you say his name, “Well, just Javi, could you hold onto this for me?”

His breath hitches when you slide the coat off your shoulders, revealing your body in a silk black strapless dress and a gold necklace with diamonds spilling onto your collarbone. You all but throw the fur onto his lap and stamp out your cig in the ashtray in front of him.

“Enjoy the show, lover.”

Describing you as a “songbird” was a serious understatement. Javi found your voice fucking heavenly with the way it crooned out some old torch song from the 40s. He wasn’t the only one who felt this way; sober or not, the audience hung onto every note that left your lips and the room was at your command. Your smooth, honey-sweet voice melted through one melody to the next. Soon enough, you were thanking everyone for coming out and wishing the crowd a lovely stay at the Flamingo.

And then your eyes met Javi’s once again, and blood rushed to his ears.

Eyes glittering mischievously, you point directly to him, “This last song is dedicated to that man right there.”

The spotlight whips away from the stage, landing directly on Javi’s chair. He tried his best to remain stone cold, jaw clenched and dark eyes boring into yours from across the room. But his embarrassment was quite literally on display as he shifted uncomfortably under the white hot heat of the light behind him.

“Just Javi was kind enough to hold onto something very special to me,” you purred into the mic, “Please give him a round of applause.”

Thank God, for your coat. Had it not been there, the world would’ve seen the way Javi’s cock strained against his jeans.

He finally let out a huff of relief as the spotlight left his back and veered its way back to your place on the stage, your last song starting. Javi was quick to scramble for another cigarette. He looked at the coat in his lap, pausing in contemplation. His eyes darted between the fur coat and yours as you began to sing again.

“I found a place

Full of charms

A magic world

In my baby's arms....”

His hands slithered their way to the folds of the coat on his lap, dipping into the pocket and pulling out the golden lighter. He flicked the sparkwheel, a tiny fire illuminating his the curves of his face as he kept his steely gaze on you.

“Her soft embrace

Like Satin and Lace..”

Javi took a long drag, nicotine setting his chest aflame. Your black dress ripples along your legs as you cross the stage. You’re smooth in the way you pull yourself onto the grand piano, lying down and arching your breasts upward as you belt out the lyrics, shooting a dazzling smile to him.

“Wondrous place”

“Excuse me, miss? There’s someone here to see you.”

“Tell him he needs to get in line.”

You see Tom, the baby-faced stagehand, bristle in the reflection of your dressing room mirror. He’s heatedly whispering with the person next to him. You always felt bad for giving him the chore of turning your suitors away.

And while you expect Tom to close the door and leave you in peace, he presses on.

“He-uh-he says he has your coat, ma’am.”

Your lips curl into a devilish smile, and you turn to your sweet blushing assistant.

“Oh, send him in then. He’s okay.”

The kid obeys, pushing your door further open. The man you’ve had your eyes on all night walks through, your fur coat wrapped along his forearm.

“What a lovely surprise, Just Javi.”

You watch him in amusement as his Adam's apple bobs in his neck. You relish in the paralyzing effect you have on him.

“I just came to return this,” his voice is tight as he tries to return your fur to you. You don’t miss the way his eyes trail over your body; your black stage dress was replaced by a cream silk robe loosely tied at your waist.

“Sure you did,” you tease. His jaw clenches. A small laugh spills from your lips, “Tom, could you give us a bit of privacy?”

Silence follows after the door shuts closed. You cross the room to stand inches before him, raising a hand to caress his cheek. The other rests on the coat in his arms. His ragged breathing is music to your ears.

“You were great tonight.”

“I aim to entertain,” you rub your thumb over his cheekbone, “Thank you.”

He clears his throat, voice growing low, “That was a pretty mean stunt you pulled out there.”

“Not a fan of the limelight, Javier?”

“No, not particularly.”

A coy smile creeps on your face when he leans in closer, lips parting in an attempt to catch yours. You slyly dodge Javi's mouth, and it connects with the crook of your neck instead. In his frustration, he bites down hard. A satisfied mewl escapes you.

“You’re driving me insane,” he huffs against your clavicle.

“What can I say?” he pulls away to look at you with wild eyes, “I like to play with my food, Javier.”

Chest heaving, Javi throws the damn coat onto the plush velvet chaise behind you. His strong, calloused hands are at your waist, feeling the curves of your body and pulling you closer towards him. You giggled in delight at his touch and your hands flew to clutch the back of his neck, fingers entangling themselves in his hair. You squeal when he goes to grab your ass, hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his torso. He makes his way over to your vanity, and with a sweep of his right hand, he pushes off the contents of the table to the floor. Javi sits you up against the mirror, and takes your face in his hands.

“Let me kiss you, mi amor.”

Your body swells with warmth. You didn’t plan on kissing him, but the way his accent echoed in your ears made you dizzy. Your hands drop to the opening in his button up, and you pull him in, lips crashing together. He shudders against you, tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You let Javi in with fervor, huffing against his lips. Your fingers work their way down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt. They come back to his shoulders, desperately pushing his leather jacket off his shoulders. Javi’s hands leave your face and shrug off both his garments onto the floor. Your face flushes with heat at the sight of his bare chest. He pushes himself closer between your legs, and traces his right hand towards your inner thigh. His other hand pulls the bow at your waist and your robe spills open revealing your naked body.

Javi groans at the sight before him, and his hand palms at your breast.

“Fuck, you’re stunning.”

“Take a picture. Lasts longer.”

“I intend to do way more than that, cariño.”

Your heart flutters when he pulls your vanity chair in front of you and takes a seat. He spreads your legs out wide, hooking one of them over his shoulder. You hold your breath as he kisses along the inside of your thigh. Two fingers come up to your dripping pussy, massaging against the folds and spreading them open. His fucking tongue traces against your opening and you nearly cry at how good it feels. Javi drinks in every part of you as you squirm under his mouth like any parched man would in this desert. He moves his lips upward to suck gently on your clit, and inserts two fingers into you.

“Javi!” you croon, “Javi, baby, it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Sing it for me, sweetheart. I love hearing your voice.”

You gasp when his digits curl inside you. You wrap your hand in his hair, and pull him back up to face you. He’s still pumping into you when he stands from the chair, and your leg falls back onto the table. Trouble flickers across your face as you reach down and grip his wrist. You pull his fingers out of you and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue and tasting your cunt on his tips.

“Shit, baby,” Javi grunts and uses his free hand to pull you flush against his hips. You moan at the feeling of his cock through his jeans. He presses his forehead against yours and removes his fingers from your hot mouth. Your deft hands fly to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You claw at the waistband of his boxers, dipping your soft hands below to palm his thick cock.

Javi’s eyes shut at the contact, cursing under his breath when you wrap your fingers around the tip and squeeze.

“I knew I was gonna fuck you the minute I saw you,” You shift under him to whisper in his ear, “I’m so glad you don’t disappoint.”

“How?” Javi is barely holding it together, head spinning as you slowly stroke his shaft, “You couldn’t even see my face in the lounge.”

“No, I couldn’t. But I saw you in the lobby,” you push down his underwear and his cock springs out, “It was just my luck you came to see me.”

You pull him into another searing kiss, dick still in hand. His heart races as you rub him along your wet entrance. He leans forward and his arms pin themselves beside your head against the vanity mirror. He thrusts his length fully inside you, and the sound you make is ungodly. Your tight cunt is so warm and tight and he begins to move faster. The slapping of his torso against the back of your thighs reverberates around your dressing room, and your vanity table shakes with every push into you. Anything remaining on your table shifted and fell to the floor with the rest of Javi’s clothes.

He pulls his hands away from your mirror, and he presses them into your shoulders for stability. His lips move from yours and attack your neck, sucking at the supple skin below your jawline.

You let out a strangled mewl, but chide “Not on my neck, lover. I’ve got a show tomorrow.”

Javi nearly whines in frustration and pushes you backwards, forcing you to arch your chest into him. He kisses along your sternum instead, sucking down hard and marking you with a purple hickey between your breasts. The sight riles him up further, and he plows into you faster.

“Fuck, Javier, I’m gonna cum!”

“Look at me, mi amor. I wanna see you,” he tilts your chin upwards with his finger.

A wave of pleasure washes over you and your lips are chanting his name as you ride your orgasm. Javi has his own shortly after you, cum spilling into you and leaking around the sides of his dick. He pulls out of you and leans against the table, arms flexing next to your legs.You sit up and kiss the corner of his mouth. Pushing yourself off your vanity, you push past him and bend over your chaise lounge, shuffling through your forgotten coat. You turn back to Javier leaning against the armrest and you light one of your slim cigs. You take your first drag and pull it from your lips, offering it to him as you exhale. When he goes to take it from your fingers, however, you abruptly tug at his arm, throwing him onto your chaise.

His bewilderment made you chuckle, “What are you doing there, sweetheart?”

Your mischievous smile returns as you twist the cig in your fingers,

“Hold onto this for me, Javier.”

You stick the filter into the corner of his mouth as you straddle his legs, and you peel off your robe to reveal all of yourself to him.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay,” you coo as you lick your lips “but I don’t think I’m quite done singing for the night.”

You were no songbird. You were a siren. A succubus. Like everything else in Las Vegas, you would take and take and take and leave nothing but dry bones and dust in your wake.

a/n: disclaimer: las vegas is actually lame as fuck.

but i hope u liked the very basic history lesson i peppered in there anyway haha. fun fact: the lawyers for all those mobsters actually became mayor at some point.

the song mentioned in this fic is wondrous place by billy fury!

the title is totally ripped from fear and loathing in las vegas! because we love references.

idk if there’s gonna b another part for this?? mayb if y’all rly want it i have a few ideas but after this i want to focus back on to migraine. lmk if u like it!! bc it was actually fun just writing about a place i know. hope you all enjoyed!

taglist

@starkstranges @mysterihoeee

thanks for reading! see u space cowboys <3

- leo

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #narcos #narcos fic #fear and loathing

59 notes · View notes