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qvrcll · 6 months

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nsfw, fem reader + borderline phone sex

teasing coriolanus snow through a line whilst he’s out parading himself as a peacekeeper with new responsibilities and goals? absolutely.

the ordeal is messy at first. you’re not sure if this is a good idea in the first place (considering the whole good man act he’s piecing together to get back to the capitol, so fragile already) but what is there to lose? you miss him terribly and on the off-chance, you get to catch him off guard, much to his dismay.

so, it starts.

“snow, there’s a caller out for you,” a stone faced peacekeeper yells, voice like gravel. really, not a mouth for conversation, so snow goes as much as to nod before reaching the relevant station. his hands are clammy, oddly, and he wishes the call were from back home. tigris, grand’maam… you.

you, who has kept his faith in this place with just images in his mind. memories.

but to hope is to lose and to lose is beneath him - so, snow keeps his wits about him. he finds a seat and sticks to it like glue, spreading his back and finding space for his feet as the machine ahead whirrs gently. there’s no one here at this point of time - calls are short and rare, which reminds him to not bide his time too much, to not panic and, admittedly, he’s never felt his heart in his throat until now.

“hello?” his voice is crisp, weak in its echo.

there’s cracking on the other end, before a face blends within the static, a smile already tinged in the viewer’s feedback. teeth he recognises by sight alone, smile he recognises by warmth alone.

it’s you.

“coryo? god, is this thing working?” you gasp, and he would laugh if the urge to have you wasn’t overwhelming his senses. his nose was already twitching, reddening with an onslaught of emotions as he could hear your words transmitting clearly over the machine’s whirr, “oh my god! coryo!”

the two of you break into smiles and he can sense you on the cusp of tears - not that strange, knowing he’s been away from you for far longer than he ever has. the remedy is always sweet: he coos at you, reassures you.

“have you been crying? what, you missed me?” he asks, clutching the receiver tighter and then loosening his grip a little. there’s a smile in his voice, but you can already see it.

you shift, curling the telephone cord around your finger and nodding, “of course i’ve missed you, coryo. have been missing you so much,” your voice is dripping with the spell of his absence, to which snow sadly smiles at. of course you’d been missing him.

but then, something slips up. time, his breath or the strap of the slip you’re wearing - pretty pink, a rememberable flush of salmon that hugs your body firmly, from what he can see. he almost misses it, almost chooses to focus on the wall nearby instead, out of courtesy. because it was surely a mistake, a little slip up (ironically). but when you fail to pull it up, instead staring at him like he was the loon here, he clears his throat.

“w… well, how have you been?”

“good.” (did you just scoot closer or did he imagine that?)

“how’d tigris… (cough) been?”

“she’s great.” (okay, your thigh definitely hitched up on purpose.)

two questions and he’s already losing his mind. he knows there are no others in the room, but he feels wholly lost, a string of yarn being pushed against nimble fingers - and when he finally looks at you, a warning painted in those azure eyes, he can finally see what you’re getting at. your face is prettily composed, like he remembers, but there’s heat in your shoulders. an ache that he wants to get beneath, curl against his fingers.

he steels himself, gripping the receiver harder and feeling his jaw tighten under the effort of staying calm, “what are you doing?”

you act dumb, of course. there’s that smile - same as before. sickly sweet and barely squashed off of your face as you stare at him, “doing what, coryo?”

“you don’t think i’m dumb, do you? i can see what you’re trying and it’s-“ he casts a wary look behind his shoulder, and spots no one, not a soul, “it’s unfair.”

“unfair?”

“precisely.”

“is this unfair too?”

before he can even squint at that, ask you what exactly you mean, you do your worst: drop the slip and reveal what’s beneath. the skin of your chest is as he remembers, your fingers skirting against your nipples. it all makes his leg jump, his heart clinch uncomfortably under all those bones and all that blood. he’s already hissing, moving closer.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asks, though there’s no malice in his voice. no reprimand. just a small fear and a large amount of desire that spills into a small whimper when you lean back and have the decency to lower your fingers past your belly and beneath.

“i missed you coryo,” you practically eat the words, moaning softly into the receiver as you work yourself open until it’s quite enough. but it never is - you know this and so does snow. one of his many faults, his dexterity that is - pretty, nimble fingers that reach parts of you that need teasing, pushing. fingers that go farther and don’t come back until you’ve had your fill. but you’re making do with what you have and that’s partly why he grits his teeth.

he knows he can do it better.

“talk to me,” he licks a stripe against his lips, eyes zoning in on you. he can’t see below for certain, but with the soft sounds that leave you, he’s plenty satisfied. besides, the thought of those stone faced peace-keepers stepping in and taking an eyeful of you gets him angrier than he would like to be, “how does it feel? good? better than mine?”

“no, no, never-“ you gasp, craning your head backwards and angling your body so you’re resting your weight on your free elbow, “never, coryo - ah - you’re better. need your fingers.”

he feels a strain in his pants. a pain is forming in his dick and the blood is rushing soon down, and he knows this is unruly. unadjustable. he could lose his position. but maybe that’s the thrill in it, isn’t it? closing an eye to his duties is rather easy, and as he palms his dick through the svelte material, the groan that leaves him is inarticulate and roughly pushed out of his throat.

“poor thing needs me all the time, don’t you?” he gasps, palm catching on that sensitive area down below, “have you been doing this - fuck - since i’ve been away?”

he spreads his legs, palming harder and somehow, messier. though the static betrays him, the feedback in the device in front of him does him wonders: your face, contorted just the way he loves it, your fingers inventing some thick, loud sound the more you work your way into your cunt, the weight of your release hung above the two of you like a threat.

“just my fingers - ah - been using ‘em” you cry out, voice high suddenly, “miss you so much. i can’t do this. i need you here - ngh - coryo!”

the noise that leaves you is heavy and it hits him so hard his dick throbs in his pants, so he presses harder onto the muscle and moans painfully slow.

“shit - miss you so much, sweetheart,” he picks up his ordinary pace, “when i’m back home, i’ll give it to you good.”

“promise?”

“fuck - i promise.”

the seconds of orgasm are embarrassing. he clutches the screen and stares open-mouthed at you. wishes he could kiss every bend and curve, every dot and line, but as soon as he feels himself about to spill into his pants, the line cuts. there’s a darkness washing over the screen and he can no longer hear your voice through the wasted receiver.

it clicks - those stupid call times. he’d probably used all his minutes.

he clenches his fist and loosens it up, tossing the receiver back into its apt position. and as much as he is exasperated as he is disconcerted, he composes himself.

several minutes later, a peace-keeper enters. stone faced and dull, just as he remembers them.

“time’s up, snow. get back to your room.”

snow nods, pinching one look at the dark screen of the feed before walking out. as he steers clear of the room, a thought occurs: he better get back home quick so he can fill you up the way you both like best.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

#coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas x reader

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 1 year

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Imagine becoming a part of the red hair pirate's disembarking procedure

Part 2 of this post (it's free to view on Patreon, you just need an account I think)

Benn: *talking to the whole crew* Alright, we're going onto an island we've never been on before, and one we're not sure if anyone has ever landed here. We have protocol for this, and it's paramount that you follow it to a T.

Shanks: *whispers* oh shit, you know he's serious when he breaks out the big words.

Yassop: *snickers*

Benn: I'm going to give you a refresher on the rules.... We use the buddy system, no one gets to shit without their buddy.

You: Just what I always wanted, a poop buddy.

Shanks: *puts his arm around your shoulders* the only time our synchronized bowel movements are a blessing.

You: *rolls your eyes* at least we won't have to fight over who gets to use the bathrooms first.

Shanks: now I get what I have always dreamed of, to hold your hand and look deep into your eyes while we poop.

You: *shudders in horror* You're so weird.

Shanks: *plants a wet kiss on your cheek*

Benn: Now would those of you assigned to the exploration party please line up at the gangway for departure.

You: *goes to help Hongo prep a med pack for the exploration crew*

Hongo: *once the kit is finished* They're going to want you to take it to them.

You: Uh, okay? *takes it out to see them waiting patiently in line for them.

Benn: Excellent *takes the med kit and straps it to his pack* Now time for our kiss goodbye. *Bends down, so his forehead is level with your face*

You: Really?

Benn: yes, now hop to it.

You: *rolls your eyes, but gives each of them a forehead kiss*

The next island

You: *Currently too sick and infectious for Hongo to allow the crew in the med bay to get their kisses goodbye*

The exploration team: *has a horrible time on the island*

After getting back to the ship and getting the hell off that island

Benn: we barely got out of there, Hongo, you really need to get them back on their feet before the next island.

Hongo: *patching up Benn's shoulder* who are you talking about?

Shanks: My partner, obviously, we have the worst luck without them around.

Hongo: I'm sorry my skills aren't enough for you

Shanks: It's not that you aren't enough, because I have absolute faith in your skills. It's just I always feel bad, like I'm wasting your time, when I have to come to you for treatment every single time we step off the ship. Also being hurt sucks, if we can prevent it before that happens that'd be way better for everyone. I mean wouldn't you rather be conducting that research you've been working on for years?

Hongo: ....fair point, I'll have them up and at 'em as soon as possible. I'll also come up with some protocol to get y'all access even while they're sick.

Benn: how are you gonna manage that?

Hongo: *shrugs*I'll probably just stick 'em in a hazmat suit or something.

In the Port at the next island

You: *finally feeling better*

Hongo: I'm going to go refill my herb stores, I'll be back before dusk. *kisses you on the forehead, and presents his to you*

You: do I have to? I'm still sure this is how I got sick in the first place.

Hongo: *pulls out a pack of disposable alcohol pads, disinfects his forehead, and presents it again*

You: *sighs, but gives him a peck anyway* Buy more disinfectant while you're out, since y'all have convinced yourselves that I'm magic.

Hongo: *nods and walks down the gangplank to the dock*

Benn: We haven't decided you're magic, you know.

You: Oh really? Because you act like the world will crush you if you leave without me pressing my lips to your forehead.

Benn: It's not like that, it *growls in frustration*... we've noticed a pattern and most of us would rather not risk breaking that pattern. Okay, so suck it up and pucker up *pointing at his forehead and giving you his serious face*

You: *slaps one of the alcohol pads at his face.* Clean your oily forehead of yours first, I ain't gonna kiss it when it's clammy and gross.

Yassop: *laughs* you might need to give him two, since he's got such a big ass head.

Benn: *scoffs* Your forehead is bigger than mine, and where are you going?

Yassop: Deviating from the pattern, later. * steps off the gang plank and falls through the first dock plank he steps on, hitting his balls on the support beam, and gets slapped in the face by the other end of the plank before falling into the ocean*

The Crew present: *groan in sympathy as they protectively cup their own genitals*

Benn: dumbass

You: he doesn't learn, does he?

Shanks: Not quickly, he'll need to hurt himself a few times before it clicks.

You: ....we should make bets

Benn: two thousand on him falling down a flight of stairs next.

Shanks: You're on.

You: that's awful... and wrong, he's gonna get attacked by something in the water, and I'll bet ten thousand on it.

Coming Soon

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece scenario #one piece imagine #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks #benn beckman #yassop #hongo #hongou one piece #one piece hongo #red hair pirates #from the depths of the dragon's hoard #tma original #4/28/23 #no beta we die like men

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maaarshieee · 1 year

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⎯⎯ ୨ Sick Days ୧ ⎯⎯

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 2.0k words ┊ Fluff-Hurt/comfort *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

now isn't this such an interesting plot? hehe,, something short to keep the creative juices flowing plus i think it's funny how unhinged my zandik interpretation is... have a great day/night!! OH AND IM BEGGING FOR PANTALONE, WANDERER, ALHAITHAM AND DOTTORE REQUESTS HEHEHE, also this got out of hand...

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: canon typical violence, basic dottore warnings, mentions of experiments, arguing, choking but not really?

It wasn't often that you'd get sick ever since you got together with Dottore. Your immune system has gotten better throughout the years, all because of the medicines and special treatments Dottore has put you through. Of course, these were only for you, and everything he has done only benefited you. He never dared to hurt you on purpose, only wishing to keep you healthy, safe, and sound.

So whenever you get sick, usually once every year, he'd be the one keeping an eye on you. Not a segment, no, screw everything else! He will take care of you and he will not give a damn about the Fatui until you've fully recovered. You always tease him for this, cooing at how sweet he is, which ultimately pisses him off and leads him to give you the most bitter concoctions he could ever make. You should be honored that Dottore himself is taking care of you (not like you had any say about it, he will get upset if you don't let him nurse you back to health).

With a cold, wet piece of cloth on your forehead, sniffling lightly as you struggled to breathe due to your clogged nose, you couldn't help but reminisce when your eyes wandered over Dottore's back. At the moment, he's taking notes of your vitals and overall health for the past few months, making sure nothing else was amiss. "Hehe, this reminds me of those times..." You rasped from your bed, snuggling more into your blankets as you closed your sore eyes. The sounds of Dottore's clothes shifting and the click of his heels indicated he was walking towards you, then the silent screech of the wooden chair told you that he had taken a seat next to your bed.

Even without opening your eyes, you could see the huge scowl on his face. How could he not? After all, he was an absolute mess when he got sick.

"Zandik, I swear to Celestia I will strap you down on one of your operation tables if you don't stay on your bed and let yourself recover in the normal way!"

"I can make my own damn medicine, why do I have to drink those ones you've bought at the market!? Have you no faith in my medicinal expertise!?"

"YES. I DON'T, BECAUSE YOU'VE POISONED YOURSELF 3 TIMES ALREADY. GET YOUR ASS BACK TO YOUR BED."

From early in the morning, to late at night, your neighbors always send noise complaints to the house you're currently renting while you studied at the Akademiya whenever Zandik was sick. Which was pretty often! With his ungodly sleep schedule, nonexistent breaks, and endless business, you wonder if his specialty as a doctor was only a bullshit thing he made up because he's always driving himself to death with his research. Oh, and he forgets to eat at least 2 meals a day.

And with him being sick, you're splurging extra mora to buy food from restaurants and taking them back home because you couldn't cook for shit. Zandik was the cook of your shared home; he even gives you death threats when you step into his 'territory' (the kitchen).

He's seriously the end of you. You don't understand why you even put up with it.

After physically wrestling Zandik back to his bed, hiding his damned scrolls and files about his research out of his reach and locked inside your drawers, you can finally put a wet piece of cloth back onto his forehead, watching him shiver at its coldness. Heaving a small sigh of relief, you unbuttoned his messy dress shirt and began wiping his body with another wet cloth with Zandik's hands gripping your wrist but still allowing you to rub all over his warm chest. It seemed to be a tad effective, his tense muscles slowly relaxing under your touch and his furrowed brows finally straightened, the back of his head falling onto the pillow.

"Fuck's sake Zandik," You muttered under your breath when his breathing grew heavy, struggling to breathe through his clogged nose. Taking out an ointment that you've been working on for the past few days, you sneaked your hand under his sweaty head to lift it up lightly, letting him sniff the ointment and biting your bottom lip, hoping that it was effective. And it proved to be a success when his breathing slowly smoothened, cheering internally. "Good, it worked." You shook your head in disbelief as you began rubbing the ointment on his shoulders, all the way down to his chest, trying to alleviate the ache in his body by massaging him. "Can't believe the ointment worked considering I only picked up medicine ever since you came into my life."

As expected, Zandik groaned at the returning warmth on his chest, shooting you an accusing glare but you only pressed your hands a little harder against his shoulders, rubbing with careful motions. Before Zandik could open his mouth, you quickly explained the ointment you made. "It's made out of a bunch of cough suppressants, topical analgesics, and some essential oils. Not a cure for any illness, but it helps relieve muscle pain and its vapors can help clear your breathing." You say each word slowly, letting his hazy mind catch up with your explanation. "Feeling any better?"

Zandik let out a grunt, baring his teeth at you, before silently admitting that he was feeling much better than before. "... My muscles don't ache anymore and my nose isn't clogged." Then he scowled again, eyeing the small container of ointment in your hands. "I'm not fond of its strong smell and warmth."

"Well, that's kinda the main thing about it."

Zandik rolled his eyes, shuffling on the bed and trying to sit up, only to be flicked on the forehead by you and laid back down. "Then I ought to make a better ointment than yours." He swatted your hand away, and you could he just became more aggravated. "What's the point if it's not a cure? Just because it made me feel better doesn't mean you're better than me."

His words definitely shocked you. And enraged you. So much so that you've accidentally dropped the basin full of water, where you've been dripping the piece of cloth, down to the floor. Zandik's eyes snapped to yours and he saw, for the first time, the way your eyes so viciously glared at him, mouth curled into a deep frown. "Well, excuse me for making an ointment only for you because I was concerned about your well-being because when you're sick, it's 10 times worse since you don't give 2 shits about yourself." You started, and Zandik wanted to argue but you kept going, shutting him up when he felt your hand wrap around his neck, squeezing the sides of his neck, but not entirely choking him. This caught him off guard, eyes widening at your growing rage. "I know you're bound to make some discovery that can make you immune to most illnesses, that's how good I think you are. But by the time you'll reach it, you'd be dead because you refuse to acknowledge that your body is deteriorating from your lack of care! And I have to care in your stead!"

Zandik struggled to speak with how tight your hand was wrapped around his neck, but he managed to muster out a whisper. "Then why do you care?" If he's such a burden to you, why even go as far as wasting your time on him? Your concerns and worries when he clearly inconveniences you. He knew that you've been missing classes and your due dates for your projects just to help him get through his fever and make that ointment, but he doesn't get why.

That seemed to anger you even more, but now it paired with glistening tears in your eyes as you grabbed his unbuttoned collar, hands shaking. Zandik couldn't tell if it was from your fury or something else. "Because I love you, damn it! I care about you because ever since you barged into my life, I started falling for your stupid antics and got invested in your research!" Zandik seemed stunned at your confession, his hands slowly making their way onto your wrists. "I started caring when you suddenly promised that you'd make me immortal alongside you! When you'd cook for me every damn day because I'd go broke or starve to death if you don't... A blind person could say you care about me as much as I care about you, so I made this stupid fucking alternative medicine to make this easier for you!"

You let go of his collar, letting him fall onto his back which made his head spin. His head pounded painfully from the massive headache he got from your yelling and manhandling, but could barely care, only keeping his eyes on you, conflicted. Throwing the small container of ointment to the ground, you picked up the fallen basin and walked out of his room. With one last glance back at him, you cursed under your breath before saying; "Don't get up and sleep, Zandik." Then you shut the door with a slam, leaving him all alone in his room.

For the next few days, you noticed that he'd grown more compliant to your demands, only reduced to grumbling against your wishes but still obeying nonetheless. You could only assume that the words you've said to him that night affected him, seeing that he's even willingly putting with your ointment's strong smell. In no time, he's back to his normal self, no longer sick and back to conducting his research, but trying his best to be a little healthier. At least now he's eating more than he usually did, and the bags under his eyes have lessened.

You were extremely relieved, and after a few days of his recovery, you finally decided to stir problems back into the house with a big smirk on your lips. "Glad you're taking yourself now, Zandik." You commented one morning, catching a glimpse of him drinking coffee on the kitchen counter whilst you washed the dishes. All you got from him was a grunt as a reply, but that was enough for you. "Though, I didn't think you'd actually believe me when I told you I loved you." You heard writing pause while you kept your head turned back from him, already imagining the expression on his face. "I guess you can say my acting was pretty convincing, wasn't it?" But it truly wasn't acting, you did love Zandik, and in the heat of the moment, your emotions caught up to you last night. It wasn't intentional, your confession, but it was your true feelings. You just didn't want him to take it seriously at the time being since you were still unsure if it was mutual. You have no idea going through his head most of the time.

Not uttering a single word, he threw his cup of coffee at the wall, right next to your head. Without sparing a single moment, you ran toward the doorway, catching sight of his seething form with a laugh escaping your lips. You'll say it was a joke for now, something you had said to convince him to let you care for him. It wasn't that bad either, since he'd begun sleeping and eating more out of spite, just so you wouldn't be the one taking care of him if he ever gets sick again.

"I'm sorry for lying to you, dear." With a chuckle, you leaned into his touch as he caresses your warm cheek. In his hand was a small container of the ointment you created just for him all those years ago. Contrary to his displeasure, you quite liked the strong smell of the ointment. "But I really did love you at that point in our relationship."

Dottore pushed back the hairs that stuck on your forehead due to your sweat. He had a small frown tugging on his lips, "Was that necessary?" He sighed and shook his head at the memory, slipping off his gloves so he could put the ointment on your skin. You merely shrugged, but your smile remained. "Nope, but it did make you think about how you felt toward me, right?"

"I suppose so." He says, planting a kiss on your cheek.

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- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

#yaepublishinghouse #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #:;marshie.writes #:;oneshots #:;il.dottore

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dilucsflame33 · 1 year

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Could you do a one-shot of Leo and his Wife during mating season?

Enchanted 🔥

I'm so sorry that this is very late, and I hope that you will like this either way. I decided to use my OC in this, if this is okay. ^^

To add the emotions, here's to some songs to listen to.

🔞 Warning 🔞 18+ ONLY

Little bondage but that's it. Just sweet, loving, gentle love making. 💙

Lily is intoxicated.

The feeling and smell of her lover will always take her breath away. His ocean blue eyes glowed in the dark as he just stared at her; his piercing gaze enamored her and made her body burn. Oh, she could imagine the way his hands caressed her - the way his fingertips would gently glide on her skin.

Hands of a warrior.

Hands of a lover.

But, now, those hands will work her in ways only HE can provide. Yes, her husband for three years will absolutely RAVISH her. And it will only be her. Nobody else.

“My blossom,” He spoke in a tone she has heard a million times. It was masculine, dominant. She was breathless already and he didn't touch her. He smirked when he saw the way her eyes burned with desire. “You know what time it is, right?”

She does. It was mating season. The time where he has no control over his actions and emotions, but she has no problem with it. How can she deny her man like this? After all he has done for her; treated her with uttermost care, and cherished her in ways no man ever could. He may not be human but - in a way - neither was she. She has been experimented on since she was a teen; used until her mind felt it was on the verge of breaking.

But he saved her.

So many, many times.

And she will always reward him for his devotion to saving others.

“I do, and I want you to have your way with me.” Breathless and weak, she sat on the bed with only pure white lingerie.

He loves it when she wears white. Yes, his color looks magnificent on her. Leonardo said so himself, but he will always cherish her in white. It made her look like an angel; a goddess that has been sent down from the heavens just for him - someone that he questions why she chose him, but Lily was not having it. The psychic will remind him of his worth to her, always until their last breath.

Leonardo chuckled, deep and rumbling. “You have too much faith in me, blossom. Have you forgotten the last time you said that?”

“I have not, my dearest, and I enjoyed every single second of it.” She said with confidence.

The look on his face has her yearning. She knew that her answer had done things to him, knowing he would confess them in due time.

“I question if I have a goddess, or a temptress. Your words burned me.”

A whimper escaped her and she was done for. Lily wanted him, so bad. She craved his touch, and everything about HIM.

“If I am a temptress, then I will be anything you desire.” She spoke as she teasingly slid her bra straps down her shoulders. Her pale skin illuminated from the city lights, making her skin glow and white hair looking like snow.

Leonardo’s gaze followed her movements, not taking them away from her. Not for a second. He was taking all of his wife in, even though he has seen her bare so many times. Her body is magnificent, utter beauty, and he could feel the beast within him yearning for her.

Not yet, he thought to himself as she slowly laid down on the silky, blue sheets. Her hair splayed out like fallen snow, and he wants to caress every single strand. Lily’s breaths came in even waves, but Leonardo knew that her heart was racing. The anticipation of who is going to break first.

Normally, it will be Lily who will break first but - with mating season under his belt - Leonardo could feel his will breaking. The scent and warmth of her is breaking every single chain, and he would let her.

Lily will forever be the one to break his walls and chains he has for himself.

He slowly stepped forward until he stood before her. Lily’s legs are covered in beautiful, sheer thigh highs and the beast within is salivating. His goddess is the water that quenches his thirst; the delicious sweetness of her makes him lick his lips. Leonardo could taste her; could hear her cries of ecstasy as his tongue delved deep within her warmth.

A growl left him and it made her arch her back in wanting. Lily trailed her hands from her abdomen to her breasts, gasping as the contact had her burning for his touch. She could feel herself begging for him but she wants to keep the teasing going, see how far he will hold back. With a click, the front clasp of her bar opened and revealed her breasts.

Taking an intake of breath, Leonardo raised his hand and slowly glided his fingertips to her ankle. He lifted it to his lips and kissed her there, his gaze never faltered from hers.

“You intoxicate me,” Was all he said as lips made their way to her calf and inner thigh, breathing heavily as he pulled away. He chuckled as his blossom whimpered from the loss of warmth. “Beg for me, Lily. I want to hear your voice, your every thought. I want to know how much you yearn for me.”

Flustered and quivering from his touch, she bit her lip. “Leonardo, my dearest. How I yearn for you; your touch scorched me and I want to feel myself set ablaze.

“I want to feel your hands, your lips. I want to feel every single inch of you as you drive so deep within me. I want every single person of New York to know how much I love and cherish you, just like you do with me. I want everything.” Her breath hitched as his fingers eased their way from her abdomen to her chest, then let out a moan when he completely tower over her. His blue eyes burned for her.

She knew this because her eyes burned for him.

Leonardo leaned in slowly - agonizingly so - then paused. Lily could feel him shaking, could feel the very being of her warrior slowly crumble before her. She reached for him, the small palms caressed his cheeks and he let out a wavering sigh.

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed as his eyes turned into mist, the beautiful ocean turned into a storm. “You treat me like I am precious to you. I am just a man that should never be here.”

“But you are, my dearest. You deserve love like your brothers do, and you are precious to me. Leonardo, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Never think differently of my feelings for you.” She declared as her fingertips eased his mask off his face, the blue cloth sliding down her hands as she caressed his cheeks once again.

“I married you, all of you. I don’t want a human man. I want the man that rescued me from my captives - the man that believes in me when I don’t.

“When I say that I love you, I mean every single word. You have no idea how much my heart yearns for you.” Lily could feel her eyes clouded with tears and she chuckled as he wiped away her tears with kisses. “See, right there is why I devoted my life to you. No one wiped my tears away but you. The warrior before me, held and comforted me when no one else did.”

“And you have done the same for me. No woman lover has held or comforted me. I was so focused on protecting the city that I barely focused on romance. It wasn’t until everything was slowing down that I noticed how lonely I was,” Leonardo says as he placed kisses over her cheeks, forehead, and then nose. He smiled when Lily gave him a pout knowing that she was wanting kisses on her lips. “And you are so unbelievably cute and adorable. How could I refuse such a goddess before me?”

“You always have a way with words,” Lily teased as she pulled him closer to her, their lips barely brushing against each other. “But you definitely have a way with your hands.”

Leonardo smirked at her words. “My hands are meant to protect those I love, and I made an oath a long time ago that I will protect you.” He hummed as his gaze lowered to her lips, soft and plump. “But, tonight, my hands will hold and caress you. You are the beautiful snow and, I promise you, there will be nothing left when I am done with you.”

Lily knew that Leonardo kept his promises.

With that, she traced her tongue over his bottom lip. A growl left him as his pupils blew wide. “Then show me what all you got, my dearest.”

Lily knew that challenging Leonardo has its perks.

And this is one of them.

Wrists tied to the bedpost with his bandana, legs spread wide, as Leonardo devours her sex with his tongue. Her husband worked wonders on her. Lily never had a man in her life until Leonardo came to be. She always imagined what her future husband would look like: tall and handsome like in romance novels and movies.

Tall and handsome is one of them, but not the human part which she doesn’t mind at all.

Not one bit.

Besides, she isn’t human either so it will be very hypocritical of her to say otherwise.

Her thoughts scatter as Leonardo swirled his tongue on the bundle of nerves and sucked, making her legs tremble. Her feet propped on his shell; his hands held down her hips and pulled her towards him.

This man wants every single inch of this woman.

She accepted him, and he accepted her.

He is still amazed to this day.

“If my lady is still having thoughts, then I’m not doing my job right.” He said devilishly, eyes hold so many promises and he was just getting started on one of them. Leonardo soon delved into her heat once again and she arches her back, his tongue working her thoroughly.

He isn't holding back.

And she doesn’t want him to.

Lily loves it when he shows her his strength, even if it is something small.

His hand came around her and found her nerves, then toyed with it - teasing her. Whimpers fell from her throat as she gripped the ties of his mask. “Leonardo, please.”

His dark chuckle vibrated her sex and she cried out in earnest. “Hearing you beg for me will always be my favorite, little one. You taste exquisite.”

A gasp escaped her as his finger entered her, hitting all the right places. Leonardo knows her body like a map; knows her weakest points and what she enjoys the most. Very observative Leonardo knows everything, and she just wants him to make love to her already.

“You feel exquisite, too, my dearest.”

He moans in yearning, primal. “Say my name again.”

“Leonardo.” She says breathlessly, head throwing back as his finger worked her through an orgasm that is approaching fast. “Oh gods, Leonardo!”

He sucked, licked, and tweaked her until she bursted from it all. Her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave; drowning her until she was brought back to shore.

That is what Leonardo was. He is the beautiful ocean and the storm.

Lily could watch him all day if he let her.

“Gods, Lily,” he says with passion, “What have you done to me?”

Lily bit her lip as she watched her warrior slowly crawl up her body. His body of muscle roars with dominance, eyes held primal intent as Leonardo buried his face into her neck. Her body has a mind of her own, back arches with the way he kissed her there.

Leonardo chuckled. “I love how expressive you are, little one. All of it is for me. Every single inch.”

Lily let out an inaudible gasp as Leonardo slowly eased inside her; no matter how many times they devoured each other, she would never get used to having him inside her. She could feel him all the way to her cervix and Lily wrapped her legs around his waist. A deep, guttural groan left him as Leonardo gripped the headboard - the wood creaked with his strength.

Breathing rapidly, his hips moved when she told him to. Their bodies collide in perfect sync as his thrusts are slow and gentle. The man before her wants to take his time, even though Lily wants the beast that is inside him. Leonardo always went slow and steady with her, no matter how many times they’ve done it.

He littered kisses throughout her neck, leaving marks as he went. “So warm,” he whispered as Leonardo slowly picked up speed. Lily cried out in bliss and he ravaged her. “Forgive me, blossom, but I can’t control it anymore.”

And he doesn’t need to apologize.

Leonardo is hers, and she is forever his.

Just like his words, he showed no mercy. The bed creaked and groaned with their movements, sweat dripping from each other. It was beautiful bliss.

“Leonardo,” She cried out as her climax took hold of her, and he wasn’t slowing his momentum.

Leonardo was relentless - completely ravenous - as his strokes held so much meaning and passion. The way this woman spoke his name like a prayer has done something to him. A woman never said his name the way Lily does. She gave him so much meaning.

“Lily, I’m gonna-” He groaned as he found his release, hips stuttering and breath locked in his lungs. The grip he has on the headboard snaps, breaking the poor wood and making the cloth that was tied to the wood release.

Then, the bed collapsed.

The woman below him let out a surprised scream, making his instincts kick in. He held on to her when the bed made contact with the hardwood floor, cradling her in his arms. They were still joined together, breathing erratic, he pulled away when the danger had been settled.

“Are you okay?” He rasped, making the woman bite her lip.

“Very.” Was all Lily said as she captured his lips with hers, hearing the man groan once again as he ripped the cloth from her wrists and changed positions.

“I think you’re enchanting me, my love. No woman has ever made me feel this way.” He said as she started to litter kisses to his neck, then to his collarbones. His body is a work of art, and he deserves to be praised for it.

“It is you that has enchanted me, my dearest.”

And she devoured him like he deserves.

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muffinsin · 4 months

Note

the real miracle is someone still writing for her in 2024 XD i’ve been following you for a looong while for the re8 content(which is absolutely amazing), and accidentally stumbled upon some long gone Faith Seed fanfic from yearss ago, the brainworms came back and I remembered seeing that my favorite dimi sister writer also wrote about her and i went 👀👀👀So I was wondering if you’d be willing to write some relationship hc’s about Faith and a badass gn!s/o(they could be the deputy or a reader insert whichever you feel more comfortable with) who looks as mean and as tough as they come but are like an overgrown puppy around Faith. I know your blog is mainly nsfw buttt ik you make some exceptions for sfw content ;) Also it’s my first time ever requesting something instead of just lurking from the side so im sorry if everything sounds messy af😭

Honestly yeah, the ao3 tag even is bombarded with her brothers instead of her, it’s a struggle ;-;

But, as the famous line goes

“Fine, I’ll do it myself” XD, gladly so!

Let’s get into it! :))

Masterlists

Not relationship HCs yet but overall dep/reader being a soft puppy around her XD

Faith has been called many names in the past; daughter, friend, traitor, manipulator, child, herald

A monster. A liar

The one with the flowers

When you stumble to the henbane river, she wonders

What will your name for her be?

It seems, you haven’t quite made up your mind yet

Truthfully, she is awfully curious about you from the moment you’ve stepped into her region of the land

Word is, you’ve caused her brothers quite a bit of trouble

Especially John

Having burned silos left and right, raided bases and taken those that were meant to be “freed”

She ached to visit her brother, if only to catch a glimpse of you

Of course, this is forbidden. She is to stay within the henbane river region

Joseph will not debate on this, she knows

Oh, but what is she doing at the river when her interest lays in the valley?

This changes, one day, when she receives word of your appearance near one of her outposts

From within the flower field, she can’t help but watch you

Joseph surely doesn’t have to know she just watches idly as you take the gas station over

What’s the harm in losing one outpost, after all? She knows, she’ll get it back

It’s unusual for her to be this disobedient. She knows, the Father’s word is law

And she knows, he would disapprove of her curiosity

She is tasked to convert you, not watch as you advance into her territory

She can’t help herself, though

Your rough appearance, the guns and knives, bats and blades strapped to your body, the self crafted weapons she knows to be in your backpack…

The scars along your body, at the very least the ones she can see and are not covered by clothing

Like her, you have a reputation

Rough, badass, mean, unrelenting, stubborn, wrathful, arrogant, merciless

Like you, she doesn’t cling to these terms. These names

She wants to create her own picture of you. Find out who you are really

In a way, it’s her job, to analyse, to pull in, and to take

She jumps at another gunshot, fired into one of her angels. More and more follow

She pities the lives that are lost that day

Oddly enough, she sees you aiming for her flowerfield

Have you received warning about them? Likely

Faith watches from behind a tree as you step into it. She knows, she shouldn’t be this close

She shouldn’t be outside her bunker at all. She shouldn’t be outside the Bliss. Joseph would disapprove

It’s curiosity, though, that pulled her out

The same curiosity that had her find the cult in the first place, too, only pointed towards you this time

She watches, wide eyed, when you suddenly jump back

An illusion of hers, yes. You must see it

Now, Faith is no stranger to the reactions of those who see such illusions of her

She anticipates the gunshot, or the tight beat of the bat that will cause her form to turn to mist

But, you do neither of these things

You don’t attempt to kill her on sight, even if you’re not yet aware it’s not truly her

You don’t even attempt to make her disappear. Instead, you merely tilt your head to the side, as though trying to figure her out

You seem to attempt to talk to her, but she cannot hear. She’s too far away, too far from her Bliss to reach into it and hear your words

Faith shudders for a moment. She feels the ground below her, too hard for her liking. The air, too cold on her bare arms and legs. Her feet are dirtied

This is not the Bliss. She knows, she must return soon

But, you’re so captivating…

You merely stare at her, until the illusion seems to poof away and you shake your head

As you exit her field of white flowers and step away, she frowns

You aren’t burning them down, like the rest of this resistance you’re a part of

You aren’t quite following their goals, she suspects

As she watches you drive off again, her head turns to the sky, far too blue. It’s never this blue in the bliss

She knows, she must return

Faith is- confused- by you

At first, she believed you to be hostile towards everything

And you are, in a way, to most things

And yet, you’re so tender with the illusions you practically drag from her

Never before has someone stepped into her flower fields as often

Once, you attempted to reach out to her, and drew back in shock when she turned to mist

Faith cursed herself. She couldn’t help but wonder, then, how you felt

At the same time, Jacob’s words ring in her mind often enough

Of manipulation and danger, the danger you pose. The wrath you’re bringing, supposedly

Faith doesn’t understand. There is no wrath in the way you treat her, even if it isn’t quite her

She decides to pull you into the Bliss properly

She fiddles with the flower in her hand nervously as she sees you approach, cautious, but eager

No one is with you, it’s only you

Just the way she likes it

“You’re back”, you whisper

She can’t help but giggle a little

It’s rather: you’re back

Faith has been finding you in her flower fields nearly every hour, as though you’re searching for her

And she always appears to you, in the form of the smoke of the bliss

But yet, not this time. This time she drags you into it. This time it’s her

And it’s making her nervous. Has her wish to drag you into it personally made her foolish?

What if you notice it is her in the flesh and fire?

Jacob has warned her of the dangers of the resistance members

She tries not to let it show. She knows, she is meant to appear confident

Carefree

Her white dress flutters in the wind and she shivers

As she walks around her field, she notices you follow eagerly

You always keep your distance- the exact distance to avoid her illusions poofing away. You’ve been paying attention to them

You’re not farther away, nor closer

Until she stretches out her hand

“Let me show you the Bliss”, she whispers

To her surprise, your eyes and expression does not turn angry, or alarmed

You smile at her, and cautiously reach out

Faith automatically takes a step back when you suddenly step into her personal space

You’re grinning, a full on smile she has never heard anybody describe on you before

She didn’t think you would smile

“You’re real”, you realise. She gasps when you poke her shoulder

“Stop that!”, she giggles. She can’t help the peaceful moment

She’s not in the Bliss yet, this is the real world. Joseph has no way of knowing she’s allowing herself this interaction

You don’t pull your gun, nor your other weapons. In fact, your hands are empty as you reach for her again

“Show me”, you seem to plead

And Faith all too happily does

She laughs gleefully at the feeling of the Bliss around her, her lips pursing as she blows some of the powder to your face

As you awaken, you immediately move back to her side, now too in the world of her creation

She giggles, her fingertips stroking the petals of the flowers below her

She sees you follow her, no matter where she goes. When she steps back, you follow

She knows, her goal is to bring you into the Father’s statue, to test your faith

But she is curious, and is having to much fun

How come you are following her like a lost puppy?

How long will you indulge her?

She giggles happily and carelessly as she grasps your hand and runs through her flowerfield

The world seems so soft, so warm and light. She loves the sensation

Faith gasps when you come to a halt, her hand in yours tugged and keeping her from running again

Even in this world, you’re strong

For a moment, she fears what you will do, standing still with her hand clasped tightly in yours

You’re holding hers even tighter than she holds you, but not uncomfortably so. It doesn’t hurt her

In fact, you seem very careful around her, as though she was as petite as the flowers she is known for

The auburn haired woman watches wide eyed as you pick one, and another

She feels her face heat up even in this Bliss world of hers when they are handed to her

“For you”

Faith likes to think she isn’t one to easily fluster (Yes she is)

And yet, she finds herself with pink cheeks every time her dear deputy crosses her path

And it’s often, really

There are countless times she is summoned to one of her fields by your presence, doing her best to concentrate so she will not simply poof away when you near her

She knows, you won’t hurt her

And she knows, you travel alone, and don’t allow anybody else to do as much as aim at her

And each time she is summoned, she feels your leathery, gloved fingertips press against hers when you push another flower into her hand

It’s almost as though you’re retrieving them for her

She expects no less this time, but is surprised when she receives more

“Stay still?”, you ask

She knows, her brothers would scold her for her delusion and nativity, for she closes her eyes and stands still with her hands clasped together behind her back

She’s vulnerable to attacks, she knows this

But, funnily enough, she has faith in you

And this is not betrayed. No harm comes to her, only the feathery soft sensation of flower petals brushing against her head

First her cheeks, then her forehead

Her unpainted lips part when she feels you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear

Next, something is sat on her head

Faith knows the familiar sensation of a flower crown

“Okay, open!”

She adores your excitement

Faith smiles as she opens her eyes, bright and happy when she raises her hand and petite fingertips brush against the white flower petals

You smile down at her, wide and happy, satisfied with yourself

“Thank you”

She knows, in time you too have put your faith in her

Not Joseph. Her

She never speaks of your soft nature to anyone

She never lets anybody know how you are around her when she hears of the trouble you’re causing her brothers whenever you venture into their regions

She isn’t stressed when you leave the henbane river

You always return

With gifts, usually, such as honey and apples from a farm in the valley

Or perhaps even magazines, and once- Faith remembers, you even retrieved her a red dress found in the mountains region of Hope County

She didn’t have the heart to tell you she was to only wear the white one gifted to her by Joseph

Still, she likes to look at it and hold it in front of her at mirrors in her base, the fabric tucked away in a suitcase under her bed

She also notices in time- you’re quite touchy with her

Whether in the real world or the Bliss, you like to stick close, and ideally hold onto her

She knows, you’re fond of holding her hand

At other times you like to pick flowers and hand them to her. Faith is not stupid, but allows you the action as an excuse to touch her

She often feels your hand on her hip, playing with the fabric of her dress

Never do you tug

Never would you dare attempt to tear it

You’re careful with her, clingy and sweet, and in return, she’s free with you

A secret shared between the two of you

#faith seed #far cry 5

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hellsfirekeepsyouwarm · 1 year

Text

All Hell Breaks Loose Pt. 2

Oh hello there! I'm finally done with the second part, the last few day i constantly fell asleep while rereading and editing, so there will bee errors. For sure. Happy reading! Also I have no idea where I'm going with this so bear with me.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood-injuries-torture, weapons, Graves being annoying. I guess spoiler for MW2, absolutely inaccurate plotline, it's impossible for Graves to be with us in this fic, but here we are 😁

Summary: Ghost gathered the whole team for a rescue mission that's the most important job he's ever done. A mission he can't fail.

Weapons. Check. Flash and frag. Check. Knives. Check. Rage. Check. Bloodthirst. Double check.

"Lieutenant!....Ghost?" Johnny's thick annoying Scottish accent seeps into his thoughts. When Simon looks at him he seeing the usual determination laced with a mouthful of concern. "What's the plan?"

Simon steals a glance at the nearby table, the blueprint of a makeshift mercenary base taunting him with it's lines, providing endless possibilities of a place to hold you hostage. If you are even behind those walls. He has no plan, at least a sane one. His plan is to march in there killing every man he's up against until he finds you.

He's a soldier damnit, he should communicate, but he has nothing to say. He can't fucking lead this mission, if he does, it'll fail miserably, and they'll all die while doing so.

Simon looks at Price, his face hiding behind the smoke of his cigar. A silent plead, the one Price never witnessed before. Not from Simon anyway.

Simon needs to give the lead away, to someone else, someone who he can rely on. He would trust Price with his own life, so yours is in perfect hands. His only goal is to reach you, and he can't do that while making sure everyone is in their place, following orders.

Price gestures for everyone to gather around him when Gaz finally steps in the room, completing 141 with all members. Except you.

Price shifts his eyes around the table, acknowledging all the eyes locked at him before starting the briefing. "This is our only lead, i don't have to emphasize how important this operation is. Approximately 67 hours have passed since the kidnapping, we get proof of life every 24 hours, that means we get a new update in 5 hours. In that time period our move is to infiltrate the building, find her, and exfil. This has to be done in complete stealth, in and out. With our last member."

Simon zones out, his mind flowing with Price's words. He can't think about anything but what horrible things you might go through at the moment. He remembers too well of his own terrors of captivity, the mere idea of the same brutality happening to you twisting his insides. He feels psychically sick, the required food and liquid that gives him energy turns upside down in his stomach.

He sees blood red, injuries, tears and dirt, body in agony, spirit broken constantly behind his lids when he closes his eyes. The faint breath when the camera was close enough to your bruised face.

Gaz is asking about Laswell, Soap is demanding action and in that moment Simon can't find comfort even in Price's confident voice.

He's gonna go insane.

In this line of work, this isn't knew. Held captive, being a prisoner of war, torture, interrogation. He's gone through all of them and more, and he's fucking frightened that it's happening to you as he stands there amongts his friends and brothers. Free, feeling the soothing heaviness of his weapon, gear strapped around his body, full with adrenalin in a healty and unharmed vessel. At this moment, you don't have any of that. And he knows how much you must hate it. He has seen you going through that while healing from that nasty chest wound months back.

That faithful bullet near your heart was everything for him. A breaking point, the end of the world, an invisible force pushing him towards you. That bullet made him sit beside your hospital bed, saying silent prayers to whatever higher power that can help you breath life back into you. That bullet made him confess his feelings, openly, withouts distractions and detours. He said you mean everything to him, and he was happy that you lived to hear him say those words. He never ever will regret anything he said, more like regretting not saying more.

He needs air. He needs to get it together before he lunges into a possible suicide mission. He leaves the room without a second look, or a word to his teammates.

Breath Simon, just fucking breath, the mantra repeating itself in his brain.

The air is fresh, but it's stained with the scent of iron. He feels the smell of blood in his nose non-stop, he's certain it's just him, just his head taunting, laughing. You couldn't simply protect her, you swore to keep her safe, and how that turned out? At this point, he can't trust his own mind, everything in his head is altered from agony and wrath.

Mind switching from shame of feeling bad for himself to the guilt of his part in this shitshow. In one moment he's gnawing himself for ever letting his guard down, letting himself to be comfortable enough to be able to be found by Graves, in the other his whole head is filled with your shallow breath in that video. He's eating his own mind up, running in circles, consuming his good parts, leaving nothing but a white skull behind. A ghost with nothing and everything to lose.

"Do you remember that day?" You scoff. It's ridiculous to have this conversation with Graves. So light, so casual. Everything feels surreal.

You aren't tied to a chair, your limbs are free to move, in fact, you could simply run for fucking freedom. But you know better, the room is already crowded with Graves's men, the hallway was full of them, to be honest you saw at least 20-30 men since the blindfold was lifted from your face. And after mentally noting your minor but painful injuries, you are certain you have no chance to just run for if, most likely that's why you aren't restrained in the first place.

"i was occupied with a bullet in my chest you know." You can't help but sound bitter.

He smiles, a smile you saw millions of times back in the day, when you considered him a partner, an important person in your life. This body is just the vessel that is familiar, the man you knew is gone for a long time now. You aren't hurt anymore, you passed that months ago, but you see on his face he's not done with whatever he harboured from your shared past.

"Yeah, sorry I forgot." Fucking piece of shit.

"So what now Graves? You are hurt 'cuz the blast did not kill you at the end, and you have to live looking like fucking Quasimodo? What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

You are fed up. Fuming. What's his point? Revenge? Maybe, he was never the vengeance kind of guy. Soldier's aren't like that. But he's not a soldier anymore, is he?

"When I stepped on your front porch, I knew I'll find someone inside. Someone who isn't Riley. Fuck, i was prepared for any other 141 member despite i deemed Riley way smarter than that. But shit, finding you snuggled up in his bed." He smiles with venom, enjoying and hating his words at the same time. "When did that happen Darling?"

"Urghhhh. Holy shit Graves, that's what you really care about?" You bury your face in your hands, not feeling the need to watch his every move. He is still cocky and arrogant. You giggle with a wince when you graze a deep cut on your jawline. "Shit, are you jealous?"

His face breaks into a grimace. He stands up from his spot, after hours of not moving from the chair in front of you, talking your ear off with threats and pointless words. He stops in front of you, so close it sends a chill down on your back. His breaths fans over your ear when bends down next to your face. "Don't worry, he seen everything that happened to you." He suddenly halts in his words, for a dramatic pause, or something else you don't know, but it's way more unnerving than anything he has done so far. "In fact, he's already here to save your ass. Let's find out how prepared he is."

No way. It does sound possible and completely impossible altogether. If Simon is here, he's here for you, bit he might not be prepared for a trap they lured him in. And he will be march through the door with Soap on his side, undoubtedly. And if they do, this asshole will have everything he wants in one place.

Graves backs away, eyeing you up and down, looking at his work proudly, eyes glinting with anticipation.What can you possibly do to help Ghost and stay alive while doing so?

"Oh I know that look. Don't think too much darling, your head will hurt. You can't do shit." You feel dizzy, head throbbing, pain raging inside your skull. You feel more and more disoriented. You lose focus for a moment, and that's enough to lose him from your sight. The next thing you know, you almost fall over with the chair, Graves's arms the only support you have, his body pressed harshly against you without shame, invading your senses with his presence. You hear his voice close, too close.

"Everything you feel now is just the start. Get yourself comfortable on this chair, memorize every tiny detail of this room, count the steps you hear outside of the door." He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your scalp in an attempt to get your full attention on him in between you losing and regaining consciousness. "I'll wait for your precious lieutenant to make an appearance, so I can lead him to this very same chair your pretty ass is sitting on, show him the wood drenched with your blood before I serve your head on a golden plate."

He lets you fall back in place, only your lucky landing of your legs keeping you upright on the chair. Your body is exhausted, battling with the pain and adrenaline. You are going to pass out at some point, and you are oh so fucked if you do.

"When he arrives, he'll bring your precious team, right to my front door. Every one you is going to die here. You'll be the first one."

"What do you think will happen if you kill me Philip? Hm?" He stops midway to the door, his back stiff, muscles twitching underneath the vest. The burn scars apparent on the back of his neck, probably snaking down to his torso. "Are you even capable to murder me Phil?"

He stays rooted, just standing there, waiting for you to go on. Or to be silent. His next move is depending on what you are about to say, how far you are willing to go. "I have known you for years. I worked, lived with you, i watched you take down enemies from distances that no one ever thought about doing. You trying to make me believe you couldn't do the same from a neighboring building with clear sight? Aimed at chest when you had a perfectly fine vision on my head? I bet you didn't relized i don't have a vest on, am i right? You can't feed me this bullshit Philip. I know you too much to believe it."

Maybe his men believes this tale, hell he might forced this truth on himself too, but you are no fool. And his quick steps out of the room proves you hit the nail on the head.

Taglist: @galagcica @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @afro-hispwriter @cabreezer0117 @5seastar @v-v-x-x @multitargaryen

#simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine

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louisupdates · 10 months

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EXCLUSIVE: Inside Louis Tomlinson's Faith in the Future tour as support act praises 'mentor'

Louis Tomlinson has been entertaining his stateside fans with his Faith In The Future tour and up-and-coming singer and support act Andrew Cushin has heaped the praise on the star

By Jamie Roberts | 3 AUG 2023

Louis Tomlinson has once again been wowing the crowds as he continues his hugely successful solo career.

The former One Direction man, 31, has recently finished his immensely popular stateside leg of his Faith in the Future tour, playing at some of the most iconic venues the country has to offer - and having his shirt ripped off his back along the way. One man who has been up close and personal with the singer over the past few months is fellow musician Andrew Cushin.

The confident English rising talent was selected to be a support act on a number of the shows, playing in the likes of Chicago, Las Vegas and New York. It's been a dream come true for the talented Newcastle native who has opened up to Mirror US about the epic experience.

Labelling Louis a "mentor," Andrew - who is signed to Pete Doherty's record label, Strap Originals - explained he has been able to lean on the star for advice at times on the tour, and admitted it had been "such a good learning experience".

📸 Stephen Lovekin

He's a busy lad as you can imagine," Andrew said. "We've spoke and we've had a couple of drinks and all that and there's been bits of advice when I've needed it. So it's good that I know that he's there if I ever need anything. He's been there and done it all, so he's been a very good tour mentor."

Andrew continued to say he had been extremely impressed with how everything runs on a tour of this magnitude. "Everybody's such a seasoned pro on this tour," he admitted, revealing how it seems nobody is fazed by anything.

He said the entire behind-the-scenes staff show such a high level of professionalism which in turn has given him a huge aspiration and something to work for.

"There's things that I can look at on this tour and take to my own gigs which will make a massive difference," he added. While Andrew has got a big following of his own building nicely at home in the UK, he admits Louis' fans have been nothing short of phenomenal as he tried to turn them into fans of his own - something he seems to have had big success in doing, with homemade signs, bracelets and even tattoos being shared in support.

"These fans really are so, so dedicated to everything that Louis is doing and it's an absolute pleasure to play for them. I was a bit nervous for the first few shows to see how it was going to go down because I'm here without the band and all that and I didn't know if it would have the same effect just me and an acoustic and piano but it's getting the same reception, so it's just a credit to the audience. It's been amazing.

"It's been one massive learning curve and it's so much fun and I'm enjoying it."

Andrew, whose previous tune Where's My Family Gone featured former Oasis man Noel Gallagher, has also released two records during his time with Louis. It's Coming Round Again has been winning rave reviews online by those at the gigs and was filmed at one of the concerts, so too has newest hit Wor Flags.

#louis press #louis tomlinson #4.8.2023

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biaswreckingfics · 2 years

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Blurred Lines: Part 14 (M)

*This can be read as a standalone fic as there is about 5% plot in this part. So, if you're looking for some Sunwoo smut, here you go. For my normal readers, you can absolutely skip this part if you're uncomfortable!! You won't miss anything.*

Pairing: Kim Sunwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Acquaintances to Lovers AU, Roommates AU, Fuckboy AU

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (both rec.), slightly dominant Sunwoo, language, feels, KIM MF SUNWOO

Previous Chapter

The hot stare Sunwoo gives you overwhelms your senses. The lust is so clear in his dark eyes that it steals the breath from your body. Your nerves tingle and light with fire in anticipation, and you bite down on your lip to ground yourself. You feel like a live wire, and only Sunwoo knows what to do to help.

Sunwoo suddenly closes the distance between you and crashes his lips into yours. You breathe him in, letting him dominate you with his tongue much like you hope he does with his body. It's only a moment before his teeth bite lightly on your bottom lip, and he pulls away.

He stops a couple of inches from your face. His gaze admires your lips before looking up into your eyes. His hand - which you have zero idea where it previously was - comes up to lightly caress that same lip he nipped you on, and you swallow.

"Only I can bite your lips," he tells you in a husky voice that makes your knees weak.

A feverish urge has you knocking his hand away, and your arms wrap around his neck while your lips find their way back to his. Your frenzied state sets off Sunwoo, and he crushes you back against the counter, pushing his body so tightly into yours that you're almost positive the two of you are going to fuse together.

His lips are soft and hungry, and you lose yourself in him. Your entire world could implode, and you'd have no idea. The only thought and care you have is to be so wrapped up in Sunwoo that nobody would be able to tell where one of you begins and the other ends.

When Sunwoo pulls you to him and begins to steer your body, you give him full control. The cabin isn't that big, and you have faith that Sunwoo isn't going to mess this moment up by ramming you into anything that'd hurt you. So, while he pushes you backward through the cabin, you focus on making his eyes roll to the back of his head with your tongue.

The two of you fumble your way into the bedroom, and Sunwoo backs you up until you feel the bed hit the back of your legs. You're forced to fall back until you're semi-sprawled on the bed. Sunwoo crawls over top of you. He gives you a very languid kiss while his hands grip your waist and slide under your shirt. When your hands dig into his soft hair, he decides to bring his focus to your neck.

"You have no idea how badly I want you," he murmurs against your skin.

Breathlessly, you respond, "Then, why don't you show me?"

A puff of air from an amused laugh hits your neck, and he starts to nibble on your earlobe. "Oh, I'll show you alright. I've already told you I want to hear all the pretty sounds you make."

You hum as his hands work their way up your stomach. He pushes your shirt with them, exposing your skin, and moves back so he can pull you up and tug it off your body. Just before your shirt goes over your head, you hear him say, "At least, I'd like to hear them in person this time."

As the fabric slides over your head, you pause in confusion. This time? What on earth did that mean? Once your shirt is gone, Sunwoo takes in your baffled face and smirks. Instead of responding to your obvious bewilderment, he bites his lips and brings his hand up to play with your bra strap. His fingers slide under it, and he slowly pulls it down your skin.

"What do you mean this time?" You have to ask.

His eyes flash up to yours, and the heat in them causes you to swallow. "We were roommates, love. No matter how quiet you were trying to be, I still heard you moaning my name while touching yourself."

You stay still for so long that you have to remind yourself to breathe once you feel pain in your chest. He heard you? Masturbating?! He heard you saying his name?

Sunwoo takes advantage of your frozen state, leaning in to kiss your naked shoulder. When his nose trails its way up your neck, and he starts sucking on your skin, you begin to thaw and bring yourself back into the moment.

"You sounded so sexy saying my name like that," he murmurs. "I've always wondered what you did to make those sounds come out. Wondered how they'd sound with you underneath me… Wondered if I could make you cry out even louder."

You whimper in response to his words and feel heat pooling in your core. There's no chance for you to be embarrassed because you're so absurdly turned on. The racing of your heart is almost all you can hear until you feel the snap of your bra strap coming loose. You watch Sunwoo as he pulls off your bra and exposes you to him. For some reason, seeing him close his eyes and take a deep breath gives you satisfaction.

When he opens them again, he pushes you to lay flat on the bed. One of his hands comes up, ghosting around the edge of your breast. He teases you in a circular pattern, getting close to your nipple, but never touching it. When he finally does swipe his thumb over the erect bud, you gasp with a jolt.

While his fingers tweak and rub one nipple, he lowers his head and attaches his mouth to the other one. You arch your back, shoving the mound against his mouth, and he lightly bites it in response before soothing the sting away with his tongue. Your hips lift on their own accord, searching for the pleasure they know is close by. You've waited for this for too long. Too much teasing is going to make you want to rip the skin from your body. Sunwoo must be able to tell when his name comes out of your mouth like a plea.

His hand abandons your breast and slices down your stomach to the waistline of your shorts. You've never been so grateful in your life that you're wearing something with an elastic waistband. Sunwoo easily slides his hand into your underwear, bypassing your shorts entirely. His hand lightly cups you before his fingers spread your folds apart. You both whimper as his fingers put pressure against your nub and slide down to your entrance, gathering wetness to spread around.

Sunwoo pulls away from your breast and watches your reaction as he slides a finger and then another into you. "You're so fucking wet."

His words have your body shaking, and you bring your hips up to meet his hand. He curls his fingers, and you throw your head back against the pillow and bite your lip. When you're able to look back at Sunwoo, you see him staring at you in absolute awe. He looks like he's trying to commit every single one of your expressions to memory.

It turns you on so much that your hand snakes down in between your bodies and finds the hem of his basketball shorts. You see his body tense up as your fingers slide against his skin, and once you wrap your hand around Sunwoo's length, he lets out a groan. His fingers push into you faster, and your hand matches his pace. The two of you stare at each other until you both become overwhelmed, and Sunwoo leans down to give you a crushing kiss.

It only lasts for a moment before he pulls away, taking his delicious fingers with him. You let out a needy whine in response, but once you see Sunwoo scrambling to take his clothes off, you quickly join him.

As you yank down your shorts and underwear, thoughts of Sunwoo kissing you through the fabric or slowly pulling them down your body vanish. You can save those for another time because you need him to fuck you right now. You feel like you'll literally explode if he doesn't fill you up immediately.

Sunwoo echoes your thoughts as he crawls in between your legs. His naked body is a sight to behold. "I need to be inside of you right now. I don't think I can wait any longer."

In the second you agree, Sunwoo lines himself up with your entrance. You feel the tip of his cock brushing against your folds in a teasing way, but you can see the strain on Sunwoo's face. Hell, you can feel it throughout your whole body.

"Just fuck me, Sunwoo. Please," you whine.

In response, he pushes his cock inside of you, inch by glorious inch. You gasp as he slides in and spread your legs open wide. Once he's fully sheathed, he tries to wait for you to adjust, but you're beyond that. You move your hips, and Sunwoo instantly begins thrusting into you.

His elbows cage your body between his arms. He leans down and kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth and timing it perfectly with his thrusts. You bring your legs up to wrap them around his waist and pull him closer. The friction this causes against your clit has you moaning into his mouth.

Your hands slide up the sides of his body, and you can feel his muscles responding. Digging your fingers into his skin, you love the way his body feels as he pumps into you. Sunwoo's hands find their way into your hair, and he grabs onto it with a tight grip. You feel so thoroughly trapped underneath him, and you'd have it no other way. You want to do nothing but worship him like a God.

The feeling of him sliding in and out of you is the best thing you've ever experienced. It's like the two of you were made for each other. You feel him everywhere, and your body sucks him in with zero intention of ever letting go.

Sunwoo's hands loosen in your hair, and he sits up, adjusting his position so he can watch himself slide into you. His hands grip your waist, pulling you against him as he fucks your body. Leaning onto your elbows, you breathlessly watch his cock disappear inside of you. You swear you bite your lip so hard; that you can taste blood.

"You like watching me fuck you?" Sunwoo asks, noticing your stare. "Like seeing how well you take my cock?"

You whine out a "yeah" because you're pretty sure that's the only word you know right now. You moan with every thrust of his hips, and this new angle has him hitting that beautiful, sweet spot inside of you. Your body falls back down to the bed as you let out some variations of "fuck, Sunwoo" until your brain can comprehend a sentence.

"God, you feel so fucking good," you breathlessly tell him, feeling a coil tightening inside of you.

"Yeah? You like how good I'm fucking you, baby?" His body is covered in a sheen of sweat as he focuses on making you cum. "Does my cock feel good filling you up?"

While Sunwoo brings his thumb to your clit, you choke out a “yes”. He puts the perfect amount of pressure on the nub as he rolls his hips into your body. He circles his thumb frantically, and your body arches off the bed as you feel your climax approaching.

"I'm so close, so close," you whisper out, barely able to warn him of your swiftly approaching orgasm.

"Cum for me," he groans out, and that's all it takes.

You gasp loudly as your orgasm hits you. It's like an explosion inside of you, sweeping over your body in waves. You moan as Sunwoo continues to fuck you, determined to ride out your high for as long as he can. Your body clenches his member, squeezing him tightly, and you feel him twitch. His moves become sloppy, and soon, he's cumming inside of you with a loud, sexy groan.

He collapses on top of you to catch his breath. When you bring your hands up to his back and rub his muscles, breathing hard yourself, he lets out a labored laugh. Once he gets enough air, he gets up on his elbows and looks down at you. Your breath catches in your throat when you see the happiness radiating off of him.

"Well, that was fun," he smirks, causing you to laugh and drop your arms.

He leans down and gives you a soft kiss. When he slowly pulls out of you, you lightly gasp at the sensation and clench around the emptiness. He rolls over to the side of you and plops down on the mattress before gathering you in his arms and pulling you to him.

You lay your head on his chest and listen to his heart steady. Closing your eyes, you feel a rush of emotions flying through your head. Sunwoo quietly caresses your arm while you both just take everything in. There's so much that you want to say, but it doesn't seem like the right time to say anything. Until a thought hits you.

Turning your head, you look Sunwoo dead in the eyes and ask, "You heard me masturbating?"

Sunwoo's startled by the question before a cheeky grin grows on his face. "A couple of times."

You immediately whack his stomach, causing him to make an "oomph" sound. He playfully glares down at you. "What was that for?"

"For being a perv!"

"You're the one that was moaning my name over and over again."

You whack him on the stomach a second time. Sunwoo grabs your arms, and using his legs, flips you over onto your back. You look up at him, only too happy to be pinned underneath him again. He leans down and kisses you. His tongue moving in a tantalizing pattern that has you rolling your eyes into the back of your head.

He moves back enough to see your eyes but stays close within the region of your lips. "You know… now that I think about it, I don't think I made you moan loud enough that last time."

"No?" You breathe as he lightly bumps his nose against yours.

"Mm-mm," he hums with a shake of his head.

"I guess you have to do better this time then."

He raises his brow and pulls back to fully see your face before he laughs. "Well, lucky for you, I can't seem to get enough of you."

Now, it's your turn to hum. "Lucky for you, the feeling is mutual."

He lowers himself onto his elbows. Kissing your collarbone when it's within reach and then spending time licking and nibbling each breast until he's satisfied enough. He lowers himself down, kissing and biting a path across your stomach. Your heart crawls into your throat in anticipation, and you can only watch Sunwoo while being completely under his spell.

"This time," he says as he approaches your hip. "I'm gonna take my time with you. I'm going to learn every inch of your body until I know it better than my own."

You swallow. Your body is electrified. Your nerves feel like they're vibrating under your skin as you watch Sunwoo lower himself until he's face-to-face with your sweetest spot. He nestles himself in between your legs.

When he grabs your thighs and hooks your legs over his shoulders, your mouth parts with an anticipatory gasp. He takes it a step further, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and admire them. You nearly choke on your tongue when he licks his lips, and his eyes find yours. You see the burning desire you feel reflected there.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers before his eyes return to your core.

Somehow, amid its racing, your heart flutters. However, your mind quickly forgets it since your core is throbbing almost painfully now. His head is right there, just tempting you evilly. When he lowers his head, you finally think he's going to taste you, but he just hovers and breathes. His warm breath messes with you in unbearable ways.

Finally, his tongue darts out. He flicks the tip of it in a light kitten lick against your small bud, and you nearly come out of your shell. He continues the torture for a moment before laying his tongue flat against you and slowly lapping at your folds.

Your breath quickly becomes ragged as he licks and sucks. Your hips match his pace, lifting to press harder against his tongue. His arms slide down your thighs to your hips, and he pins you down so he can control your pleasure. You whine in his tight grip, but soon the moans take over, being ripped from your body.

"Oh my god, Sunwoo," you cry out as he wraps his lips around your pleasure point, teasing you with his tongue and driving you nearly mad.

When he growls against you, adding vibrations to the mix, your body nearly comes off the bed. He holds you tightly, torturing you some more. He eventually pulls his tongue away and takes a deep steadying breath. He kisses the side of your thigh, mumbling words that you have to concentrate on.

"You taste so good, baby girl."

You whine, wanting him to shut up, and he thankfully gets the message. He dives back into your folds with even more vigor than before. One of his hands leaves your hips and quickly finds your entrance. He inserts two fingers, pumping and curling them in a delicious pattern that matches his tongue.

All the muscles in your stomach begin to tighten until you feel the tether inside of you snap. Your mind leaves your body, flinging itself out of the earthly realm, while your mouth cries out Sunwoo's name like it's a praise. Sunwoo skillfully continues to work you through your high and slowly lets you come down when it's over.

You try to take deep calming breaths once the ride is over, but Sunwoo’s silence has you unnerved. Peeling your eyes open, you see Sunwoo bring his fingers to his mouth and suck your wetness off of them. Your eyes roll back at the sight, and you mumble out a curse that has Sunwoo laughing.

"I could watch you fall apart a hundred times over," his voice approaches you as he makes his way up your body.

"You can do that any time you want," you breathlessly reply.

You quickly shut up when Sunwoo leans down and thrusts his tongue into your mouth. You taste yourself on him, and you groan. Bringing your legs up to wrap around him, you feel his hardened member hit your thigh, and you pull away.

Looking down, you see his hard length glaring at you. It looks like it needs a lot of love, and you're only too happy to please it. You push Sunwoo's chest, and he lets you roll him over onto his back. His cock springs up, and your mouth instantly waters.

"I think it's time I return the favor," you suggest, glancing at Sunwoo to see him nodding eagerly.

Getting onto your knees and positioned in front of his cock takes a matter of seconds. The tip is an angry red, already leaking precum that has your tongue darting out to catch it. Sunwoo takes a loud breath as your tongue glides along the head. You give him cute little kitten licks like he gave you and are instantly satisfied when his hips lift, trying to get more of his member inside of you.

Obliging, you take the tip of him in. Swirling your tongue around the top for a moment, you take it out and lick down his length. You spread the spit with one of your hands, twisting lightly until he's wet enough that it won't hurt. Then, you take in his length until he hits the back of your throat.

Sunwoo lets out a loud groan as you hollow out your cheeks and suck on him like he's a piece of candy. His hands slide into your hair and grip it tightly, making sure to keep it out of your face so he can watch you choke on his dick.

You try to take him down your throat, ignoring the tears that prick at your eyes. When Sunwoo lets out the loudest moan you've ever heard from him, you feel nothing but pride. You suck and lick until Sunwoo suddenly pulls your mouth off him. Confused, you look up at him and see his eyes frantic and blazing with lust.

"I want to finish inside of you," he quickly says. "I need to feel you around me when I cum."

You nod, and almost instantly, Sunwoo is pushing you onto your back and climbing on top of you. His knee spreads your legs apart, and he lines up with your entrance, gliding in with ease. He buries himself to the base and shudders. You moan at the fullness and clench around him before he can even move, causing him to hiss and drop his forehead onto your shoulder.

"I really want to take my time with you," he groans, "but I just can't stop myself once I'm inside of you."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities for you to take your time later." You move your hips, and Sunwoo's hand moves to tightly grip your waist and stop you.

His head pops up, and a gleam sparkles in his eyes. "I'm holding you to that."

You nod, and he finally starts moving his hips. He pulls nearly all the way out of you before slowly sliding back in again. He does this a couple more times, and you whine his name to get him to stop. He doesn't. You claw at the sheets as he tortures you slowly. When Sunwoo feels like he's tormented you enough that way, he finally speeds up.

With each slam of his hips, your body scoots up the bed until he grips your hips tightly and pulls you back against him. You wrap your legs around his waist, holding him close, and the new position has him going deeper.

The pressure builds in your abdomen again, and you start clenching around his length in response. Sunwoo's thrusts become wild. He reaches down to your sensitive bundle of nerves and rubs his fingers against the nub, trying to pull you over the edge with him. You're gasping as he slams into you, and you can feel that coil within you snap. You climax so hard; you see stars exploding behind your eyes. You're vaguely aware that your orgasm sets off Sunwoo's, but you're too far gone to appreciate it.

Once your mind comes back to you and your breathing returns to normal. You focus on Sunwoo, who is just as gone as you are. His head rests on your chest, and his arms snake their way around your back. You lay there in complete and utter bliss.

Nearly five minutes pass by before Sunwoo's head slowly lifts, and he looks at you. He admires your face with a gentle smile. You can see he's holding himself back like there are words on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps them to himself.

"What're you thinking?" You finally ask, bringing your hand up to brush his messy hair back from his face.

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. "I'm just trying to figure out how I got so lucky."

"Me too," you joke, and he mocks you.

Consequently, he pulls out of you and rolls off to the side. You watch him with a pout, not wanting him to be so far away from you. Once he notices, he quickly gathers you into his arms and cuddles himself around you. He holds you tightly like he never wants to let go of you, which is completely okay because you never want him to.

As you fall asleep in his arms, your brain catches on to whispered words that you're not entirely sure you've imagined or not. You tell yourself you're dreaming as you hear Sunwoo's quiet "I love you" against the top of your head, and you fall into a deep sleep.

Tagging: @wooya1224 @lilyujin @brie02 @itbtoblikethatsometimes @internetmemeofficial @timedoesntliketolisten @jungkooksworld18 @ja-jjangmyeon @noempathyy @sunwoosclouds @cowboyjaehyun @sanghak-enthusiast @simpforsunwoo @en-boyz @lavayeon @rindomo @kunxcii @love-svt @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @ilovechanhee @jisungsleftcheek @sunwoahkim @allorysayshi @thethreekims @dontflailmenow @dearestbutlost @sunwoossunflowers @flwrtbz @cloudsficrecs @ohgeezitsbreadgenie @glxwingstar @asjkdk @maybeifyoutrieddd @auroraichimaru @sawadabegum

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nyxknocks · 4 months

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So, Rashomon was not whatever I expected it to be. Though, I don't really know what my expectations were in the first place...

This style of story telling is always fun for me. It's very Clue-esque in the way you get everyone's side of the story and how it always favors themselves to look the best or the one with less blood on their hands. The characters are... interesting. I don't think a single one of them is good, but again that's the whole point, isn't it?

The line about how the demons there fled because of the ferocity of man pretty much tells you what this story is about. Humans at this point are all selfish, acting towards their own gains and for their own wants with little care for others (the assault, for one). Everyone makes a point to center themselves in the tragedy, that while yes this man did die, they are also a victim (and I mean yes she is there is absolutely no doubt of that) of other circumstances.

It feels like a nod to what we discussed about the shifting of blame. They are culpable to some extent to what happens (the assault, a murder, what have you) but it's not their fault, they were forced to. Just like how the government forced their hands during the war. But I hate linking everything around this time period and also from Japan as related to the war, because it feels reductive and small minded. But in the 50s its hard not to think of the impact the war hand, especially since Kurosawa had to deal with everything during the occupation.

Tajomaru had to assault her because she was beautiful, and then in his account he had to fight the samurai, he didn't want to kill him.

In the wife's account, she fainted after the samurai is freed, thus absolving her for whatever befell him, but she made a point to mention that even if she did kill him in her black out state (which she does not admit to) it was because he looked upon her so horribly after the assault. (Very Chicago).

The samurai's account is the most confusing, because it's told through a secondary source and also he is the one who died, so.

The woodcutter lied at the inquest or whatever because he didn't want to admit he saw the whole thing happen. Likely because he didn't want to get caught up in the blame game and also to hide the fact he stole from them. Again, selfish.

The ending can seem hopeful, with the priest saying the woodcutter restored his faith in humanity or whatever, and maybe I'm just jaded but if he lied once he can lie again. How do you know for sure he has 6 kids at home? You have no proof! You just gave this random dude you met in this husk of a building a baby you just found! Obviously it's meant to be taken well, because the literal imagery of the rain and clouds moving/stopping to let the sun in is like a ray of hope being cast on the people/story being shown. A bit of proof that humans aren't all inherently selfish and self-serving. Mildly hopeful, I guess?

I never realized the Rashomon effect was named after this and that's embarrassing. Like I said, it's one of my favorite styles of story telling because you can see things from so many different angles and still end up wondering just who is telling the truth. It really allows you to strap in and focus on the story because you become invested, trying to untie the narratives while also having your own thoughts/opinions reshaping it to fit your own narrative. It's really sneaky how it happens and its satisfying every time, because you never know, not really.

Also. Best part of the movie.

I also like how you can see the slide cut or whatever it was called. So Star Wars. The whole beginning gave me Twilight Zone deja vu. Genuinely love that aspect.

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mwolf0epsilon · 7 months

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To say he wasn't quite expecting the spectacle that awaited them in the medbay was an understatement. Although, that said, he doubted anyone could conjure up the absolute abomination Olly had laid eyes upon.

Truthfully, when he'd decided to accompany Rhythm when the new medic called for him, Olly really didn't think he'd be faced with...

Well, this...

"What in the fresh hell...?" For once he let his voice go a little higher than usual as he stared at the bizarre setup. The harness itself was fairly standard. The B1 droid torso strapped to it not so much. The thick cables connecting the back of its head to the medic even less so.

"This, gentlemen, is revolutionary homebrewed medical engineering." The tinny voice of a standard B1 proclaimed, while the medic grinned wildly with unabashed delight.

"Stars... That is... Wow." Rhythm was caught between sounding impressed, stupefied and honestly a little afraid. "Is it safe?"

"Seeing as the test is going well without signs of major discomfort and/or painful death on my end?" The medic shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The B1 torso remained motionless, basically little more than a prop. "I'd say so!"

"Death was on the table?!"

"Wait... Are you back to doing trial runs on yourself...?"

"I would never do onto a patient anything I couldn't be sure is safe. I might technically be signed up as the dental expert, but you'll find I have a lot of other proficiencies and a fine work ethic!" The medic proclaimed, the tinny voice sounding mildly offended. "That said, this process has been quite difficult to iron out, unlike the other projects I've dabbled in... It's not as straight forward as an extraction, or a root canal, or even making a crutch that both aids you in getting around and with reaching high shelving when your range of shoulder joint movement is severely impaired... So uh, yeah, I needed someone to be here in case something went wrong."

"That's... Teeh that's a little... Dangerous." Rhythm winced. Olly agreed.

"It is... But sometimes a leap of faith is what gets things going. And while I trust you all to respect me when I sign... I can't say the same for everyone else on this planet..." He insisted with a slight frown.

This Olly understood as well. There had been instances where the mute medic had been deliberately ignored when he'd expressed concerns. Sure this contraption was a little insane from conceptualization to execution, but it would certainly make it harder for people to ignore him. Especially with such an outstandingly grating voice.

At the end of the day it was no different from the various custom-fitted crutches, canes, hoverchairs, prosthetics and other assorted items Tongue Twister had made for the vode who needed that little extra bit of help getting by. Everyone deserved some independence.

"Plus when has anyone ever heard a Clanker say 'I'm gonna fuck your mum' in several different languages?"

Olly sighed in exasperation while Rhythm let out a startled laugh. Of course.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone ocs #riot trooper olly olly oxenfree #communications corrie rhythm #clone medic tongue twister #coruscant guard #TT is a professional but he's also got a bizarre sense of humor #based on a conversation with Rogue over how TT would pick Rhythm (and Olly by consequence) to watch him while he tests the interpretor droid

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shinysoroka · 6 months

Text

Strap in for what my brain decided to cook up at 2:00 am.

In a High Fantasy land, dependent on magic for absolutely everything, Tony Stark suffers an accident that leaves his heart severely damaged. The Mages Guild, who he has a long-standing feud with, decide to teach him a lesson and refuse to help. Tony says, fuck it, synthesizes a new element, builds himself a mechanical heart, uses the element to power it and manages to cheat death.

News of this travels and people realize "Well, shit! Maybe there's something to this whole Engineering thing. Maybe we don't need Mages." And so, Tony starts getting attention and his tiny workshop grows to a business for people who cannot afford magic or don't want to depend on the Mages Guild. Everything is great until his mechanical heart starts malfunctioning. He soon starts to fear that if he cannot fix it, not only will he die, but the people will lose faith in his creations, which would place the world back into the iron grip of the mages.

In the middle of all this turmoil he gets a request from a noble from up north. He has heard of this electricity thing and he wants his castle to have it, instead of relying on Mages to come over and refresh the light spells. So Tony travels all the way to a dreary castle atop a mountain that is permanently wreathed in storms. Locals keep away and warn him not to go there. They say it is cursed. They also say that the servants who work there tend to go missing.

Tony obviously goes, "bullshit, curses aren't real". But sure enough, when he arrives he finds the castle is empty, except for a bunch of servants. The housekeeper leads him to an engineering wing where everything he requested is set up. She warns him to never leave the wing and sets off.

At first he shrugs and sets off to work. But after a while, he starts getting suspicious. Why isn't he allowed to leave? If the noble and his family don't live here, why are there servants running around? Why do they seem so frightened? And why is the weather constantly awful?

Eventually, he makes friends with the maid who brings him his meals and she reveals a terrible secret. The servants are here to tend to the family's monstrous son. Terribly deformed, mad and violent, he roams the castle, searching for his next victim. No servant can ever cross his path, for if they do, they will be slaughtered.

Now, Tony is suddenly not so brave. But eventually, curiosity gets the best of him. Against everyone's advice, he leaves the wing and tries to look for the son, which proves to be oddly difficult. For a bloodthirsty monster, he sure seems to be avoiding him and doing everything to hide. Tony perseveres until, after a clever trap, they find themselves face to face.

It is not a monster he finds, but a regular man. Blue eyes, blond hair, ridiculously handsome. A face that is hard to forget. If anything, he has seen that face before.

It finally dawns on him that he is staring at Thor Odinson, the crown prince.

Or rather, the former crown prince.

The same one who was famously beheaded in a public execution ten years ago, after murdering a visiting princess from a neighboring kingdom.

The same one who is now blinking in confusion, as if he is expecting Tony to drop dead or vanish. Of which he does neither.

At first Tony just flees. But soon after, Thor knocks on his door, asking to talk to him. After all, he already saw his face. The damage is done. So Tony opens the door and they get to talking.

In the following months, they grow closer as the generator Tony is working on takes shape. He finds out that the Thor was born with the power to channel lightning and command storms. When the king found out, he tried to get him to repress that power. For years it seemed to work, until one day he lost control and accidentally killed Aele, a Jotun princess who he was friends with. Her father, Laufey, mad with grief demanded Thor’s execution or there would be war. But Odin could not bring himself to kill his firstborn so he disguised a different criminal as Thor. Then, he locked Thor away in this castle to prevent him from hurting more people. That is why the servants can’t ever look at him. That’s why there is a spell that instantly kills anyone who does.

Clearly, there is something in Tony's mechanical heart that has interfered with the spell. Or at least that is his theory.

It has been ten years since that beheading. Odin is long dead. The prince's younger brother, Loki, is the new king. And Thor is still locked away from the world, in a castle that is constantly under a storm that reflects his emotions. So Tony thinks to himself, what if repressing those powers only made everything worse. What if they could be controlled and challenged? After all, there is a perfectly functional generator right here. And so, Thor lays his hand upon the machine, and suddenly, it works!

Soon enough, the castle has electricity, which Tony now understands, was a question of practicality. The more Mages come around to refresh the spells, the higher the chances of one of them running into Thor. But now that everything is ready, Tony convinces Thor to run away, get to the palace and try to talk to Loki. Perhaps, after ten years, things have cooled down, and there is a chance to explain what happened. After all, nobody knew about Thor’s powers except Odin. If he gets the chance to explain and atone for Aele’s death in another way, his powers could even lead the kingdom into a new age.

So with Tony’s help, Thor flees his castle prison. They both have a bunch of adventures until they reach the palace. When they finally manage to talk to Loki, he is surprised but receptive to their message. At least at first, until he betrays them and orders their execution. But not before, Tony discovers that Loki was behind Aele’s death. He once eavesdropped on a conversation between Odin and Thor, where he found out about Thor’s powers, as well as the need to keep them secret. He also realized that this is why his dad was paying more attention to his older brother. Consumed with jealousy and believing Thor to be dangerous, he waited for Aele to visit, snuck into her room and enchanted her favorite ring with an electricity spell that emulated Thor’s powers. Then, when Thor and Aele were alone, he activated the spell and killed her. Since Thor was convinced it was his fault and even confessed, there was no investigation and the ring went unexamined. Until Tony finds it and blows the lid of the conspiracy wide open.

We all know what happens next. There’s a big confrontation, Tony almost dies, but Thor manages to restart his heart with his powers. Loki’s plan is revealed but once Jotunheim learns the truth, Thor is faced with the same demand as Odin, to execute Aele’s killer. Since Laufey passed away as well, the person making the demand is her brother, but Thor managed to get the sentence reduced to life imprisonment in exchange of sharing their new technology with Jotunheim. After all, Jotunheim could also probably use an alternative to zealously controlled magic. It could also use something to block it, with Tony’s synthesized element is perfect for. And now, with Thor’s powers, the new technology can be powered by clean energy that comes from nature itself, is infinitely renewable and will last forever.

And so, the day is saved, the Mages Guild’s grip on the Nine Realms is broken, our heroes lead the way into a new future and hopefully, hopefully, when this is pitched to an editor, nobody will narrow their eyes and go “heeeey, is this just your favorite MCU bits with the serial numbers filed off?”

#I'm kidding #I would never pitch this to anyone #my cringe cannot escape containment

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

Text

@gwyndal

😄😁😣

Lan Jingyi hates rollercoasters. They make him dizzy and nauseous and tap into some primal instinct of "absolutely-the-fuck-not" that has him stay as far away from them as possible. He hates the ones with those huge loops and the ones that turn you upside down and he specifically hates the ones that spin.

So why is he being dragged towards the tallest, loopiest, spinniest in the whole theme park?

Because he's a prideful idiot who refuses to admit he's afraid. And also because Jin Ling bet him 500$ that he won't get on that rollercoaster and that's way too much money for Jingyi to turn down (not to mention, his pride would be irreparably wounded if he proved Jin Ling wrong, and that's not something money can fix).

"Jingyi, you really don't have to do this." Sizhui tries, patting Jingyi's shoulder comfortingly as they wait in line. "It's just a stupid bet. And if it's about the money, I can give you that 500$ myself and be done with it."

"I'm fine, Sizhui. It's just a rollercoaster. Hundreds of people get on it every day."

"You really don't sound convincing at all..."

"Come on, Sizhui, have a little faith in me. And anyways, weren't you the one who said it's best to face your fears head on?"

Sizhui sighs. "If you're sure... I just don't want you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. Especially not if it's just to prove a point."

Jingyi tries to give a reassuring smile, but it looks strained and a bit awkward to the point that it's comical. Sizhui taps into his Lan upbringing to hide a laugh and pretends to be staring ahead at the queue. Looks like they're next.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost." Jin Ling taunts as he generously pays for everyone's ride.

Jingyi glares at him. "Get your wallet ready, princess."

Sizhui and Zizhen sigh. Whilst they're excited for the ride and have been raving about it ever since they arrived at the fair, they know Jingyi is scared of it and find the bet ridiculous.

Still, Jingyi won't admit it and Jin Ling is being annoying about it.

The employee straps the four teens into their seats, and makes it a point to specifically ask Jingyi if he's okay. He's shaking a little and there's some cold sweat collecting at his temples, his grip on the metal handlebars making his knuckles white.

"I'm perfectly fine!" he insists, his voice a bit too loud and shaky. "Let's go!"

The moment the ride starts moving, Jingyi finds himself muttering prayers. If he gets out alive of this, he's never going to lie about his dog having eaten his homework, he won't ever let his room get messy again, he'll study twice, no, thrice as hard and he won't ever call Jin Ling a spoiled little bitch behind his back unless it was absolutely necessary.

He hears his friends laugh with excitement and point out how high up they are and how many things they can see, but he doesn't open his eyes to check for himself. He's just going to take their word and their happy giggles for it.

At the first drop of the ride, Jingyi feels like his soul has gotten lost on the way.

At the first loop, he wonders whether 500$ is really that much money after all.

The moment the rollercoaster begins spinning, he almost feels like he sees his life flasesh before his eyes.

But after that... he realizes it's really not that bad actually. It's quite fun, and he even opens his eyes to get the full experience. Before he knows it, he's actually enjoying this whole thing, screaming with excitement at every drop and loop.

In fact, he's disappointed when the ride is over!

"Can we go again? This was amazing!"

Jin Ling hands him 500$ and goes to puke in a trashcan.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #writing attempts #jl #ljy #lsz

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sequestered-song-skirmish · 10 months

Text

Round 2 Poll 32

Shoetown：　「Alright, strap in because my passion for this artist and song are basically unmatched! Cam Waters was a local legend when I was a small child, playing in crowded bars and small stages in my very hometown. I used to go to these shows with my parents and absolutely loved every minute of it, and when he died in 2009, my dad was close enough to him feature in newspaper articles about it and go to his funeral. This album has been a constant in my life. This song itself however, is the opening tack off of his 1998 album Shoetown. The "shoetown" in question is Red Wing Minnesota, a small city on the Mississippi River known as the home of the Red Wing Boots factory. The song takes a winding narrative, speaking on the people who live there and the activities that take place throughout the year. The rich vocals are accompanied by Water's skilled steel guitar strumming. This song is to me a warm blanket and the epitome of comfort. And its almost lost media I kid you not. I currently possess the only copy of every one of his CDs that I've ever seen. There are only three or so videos of him performing online, and only his final album before is death is on any streaming service. Every single person I bring this guy up to has never heard of him and then wants me to send them every song that I have ripped to my laptop. So, please, sit back, relax, and enjoy some small town blues with me!」

hourglass：　「hourglass is a pop-like song written, performed, and produced by one person: yacine! Utilizing a more dream-like feeling in the music production, the lyrics share what's it's like to go through day by day and night by night while bearing the stresses of daily living. yacine! also references their faith as a Muslim person, "Inshallah you'll guide me / Inshallah you'll listen" which represents the faith that helps guide them through their day-by-day.

Also, yacine! is just criminally under discovered as a whole. Imo, she deserves way much more views/listens. (Also, yacine! uses any pronouns!)」

youtube

#poll #cam waters #yacine!#underground music #uff da #Youtube

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the-lady-general · 11 months

Text

Strange New World's Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Warhammer 40,000, the musical [audio not found].

This is from a lovely and very, very thinky Discord conversation. Thank you, guys! There's more thoughts I need to get out of my head, specifically because I've hit my personal limit of what I think the Federation can get away with as a utopia, and also because I didn't want to bore a server full of trekkies with my 40k thoughts.

TLDR: I've often said that when the fridge logic hits, ENT becomes better than what the writers intended. I think SNW has the opposite problem: When the fridge logic hits, it hits me with a spiky baseball bat. Everything I didn't like is under the cut, don't go there if you want to avoid it.

Here's the intro to the Eisenhorn omnibus, the oldest Black Library book I could reach on my shelf. I'll quickly transcribe the parts I've highlighted, explain what I love about it, and then I'll get right back to what it has to do with Strange New Worlds.

===

"For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. [...] He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. [...] But for all their multitudes, [the vast armies of the Imperium] are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. [...] Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war."

===

Fun Fact: This is where "grimdark" in speculative fiction comes from! Thanks, The General Situation of Northern England in the mid-80s!

So, it all starts with a soul-eating machine. The soul-eating machine kills ~ 1,000 people per day. It is the only way in which humans get to go faster than light, because the not-quite-corpse and soul-eating machine arrangement is basically a lighthouse for hyperspace.

The Imperium is living in the shadow of a great, bright, and optimistic past. It came out of an advanced civilisation that had gone through many destructive wars on Earth. The Emperor was a man of science and reason and wanted humanity to live in prosperity, unhindered by wars or prejudice. He abolished religion in favour of humanism. He wanted to build a utopia for all mankind. Absolute dogshit parent though.

Ultimately, he built the soul-eating machine to justify the utopia, and when he wasn't in a position to object, his successors strapped him in and slapped the go button. Utopia postponed, blame those damn heretics/mutants/aliens.

That was the decision that led to the grim dark future without escape. Do you dare *not* fed the soul-eating machine? Do you dare unplug the not-quite-corpse? It's how it has always been. It could be worse. It's every single wrong one human could possibly inflict on another for everyone, for ever. It could be worse. It'll never get better. It steadily gets worse. It could be worse. It's always two minutes to midnight and no sacrifice ever stopped the clock from ticking. It could be so much worse without the soul-eating machine.

It is unbearably bad.

By contrast, here is an excerpt from the Charter of the United Federation of Planets, as seen on Voyager (or Memory Alpha in my case):

===

"We the lifeforms of the United Federation of Planets determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, and to reaffirm faith in the fundamental rights of sentient beings, in the dignity and worth of all lifeforms, in the equal rights of members of planetary systems large and small, …"

===

So Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow had a Starfleet security officer who was ready to sacrifice her career only two episodes ago in order to reunite a little girl with her parents. She goes back in time to stop an unknown event that leads to the destruction of Earth. She is confronted with baby Hitler who lives in a vague yet menacing government(?) bunker in Toronto and tells him he is *exactly* where he needs to be.

*record scratch* Sorry. That was a bit flippant. So again, from the top:

La'an travels back in time, with Sam Kirk's brother from a different timeline. She is reluctant to open up to him because of her family trauma (separate & discrete from her childhood trauma), but notorious charmer James T. Kirk (from the USS Iowa, not to be confused with James T. Kirk from Iowa, US) helps her out of her shell. They realise that someone is trying to prevent the Eugenics Wars, having already successfully delayed them until 2023. Deciding that the Eugenics Wars were the one and only factor that led to the United Federation of Planets, La'an and Kirk then decide that they must make sure the Eugenics Wars happen at any cost.

(They do not know that the one and only factor leading to the formation of the United Federation of Planets were the Vulcans witnessing humanity's first FTL flight, nor that Zefram Cochrane was motivated by greed to build the warp 1 engine.)

They find Khan Noonien-Singh in the secret Toronto bunker of the Noonien-Singh Institute, a vague yet menacing organisition with unspecified goals. Khan expects La'an to kill him, but instead she hugs him, tells him he is exactly where he needs to be and leaves him alone in his bunker slash prison question mark.

*record scratch* I mean, La'an goes through quite some emotional distress once she realises that the fate of humanity and all Federation members rests on her shoulders, and that restoring the Iowa, US timeline means killing Kirk from the USS Iowa timeline (and, presumably, everyone else from that timeline, but we're not worried about them).

(They're not aware that there is already an alternate timeline in which James T. Kirk was born on a spaceship that is happily co-existing with the Iowa, US timeline).

La'an is even further distressed when she is faced with the choice of killing Khan and preventing the Eugenics Wars and WWIII, but realises that she can absolutely not kill an innocent child. She tells the innocent child he is exactly where he is supposed to be before leaving him with a loaded gun in a top secret, vague yet menacing bunker in a room that would be declared unfit as a human habitat BY THE UK because it doesn't even have a window.

*record scratch* I mean, La'an saves baby Hitler, gives him a weapon and a justification for starting the bloodiest and most destructive wars in Earth history, and she is expressly forbidden from seeing a counsellor about this at the end of the episode.

*record scratch* I mean, a Starfleet security officer leaves seven children too young to make their own healthcare decisions to be genetically manipulated by a vague yet menacing government(?) organisation. The fact that this is to bring about the bloodiest wars in Earth history makes this better, somehow.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow says that the only way in which the United Federation of Planets can exist is by soul-eating machine. It postulates that suffering must act as the catalyst for the utopia. I find that horrifying. I already found it horrifying when Gerne it.

But this is the second time SNW has strapped a child into the soul-eating machine. Except this time, were strapping *seven* children into the soul-eating machine, and we're not even asking them for consent, let alone informed consent.

This is framed as utterly vital.

It is unbearably bad.

If the Federation can *only* exist if its defenders are ready (if unwilling) to feed children into the soul-eating machine, then it cannot be worth it. If the condition for utopia is the suffering and deaths of millions it *cannot* be worth it. It'll endlessly retread what it has always done, it'll swing from one sacrifice to the next, it'll keep shifting who constitues an acceptable sacrifice, and 10,000 years down the line they'll look at their not-quite-corpse steering a soul-eating machine and wonder where it all went wrong.

The Federation is about the dignity and worth of all sentient life. Everything else must be in service to that.

Don't we already live in a utopian world that builds it's utopia for a few billionaires on the suffering of the many? Does the story about the post-scarcity utopia really have to haggle the ratio in favour of the many instead of going balls to the wall UTOPIA FOR EVERYONE YES EVEN THOSE PEOPLE? Star Trek is the setting that *should* save everybody! Even those people!

Fuck the soul-eating Federation. It's dignity and respect for ALL life or it's self-righteous garbage.

#the lady general rambles #this is very much a don't like don't read situation #snw spoilers #this is one thing in an otherwise entertaining episode i got really hung up on #it's so minor in what the episode sets out to do but it's an absolute deal breaker for me #fuck the eugenics wars. trek doesn't need some cosmic balance. people can just decide *i want to live on a utopia. let's build it*#that's when trek is at its most hopeful for me: *you can do good things without a reason & the world will be better for it*

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kthynes · 2 years

Text

infliction

18+

Steve comes to you as a broken man.

sin and sorrow masterlist

warnings: course language, brief mentions of blood. Falsified death. Mafia dealings and volition. Angst, pent up aggression, familial resentment.

word count: 4.3k

pairing: mob!Steve x CEO!fem reader; mentions of a Senator!Andy Barber

authors note: big shoutout to the one nonnie who kept checking back on this mini mosh series. I remember your asks every time I go in to edit and write this piece. I appreciate you so very much and I hope that you (and anyone else reading) enjoy this spin out of a story xxxx

This has not been beta’d. Any mistakes are my own.

Ever since the club ordeal, you never heard back from Steve that night onwards. The days turned into months and your forefronted help wasn’t needed after all. Albeit, you still forged his tax returns and balanced a mountainous amount of cheques. Business went on as per usual. He didn’t ask for you. Call on you. Or even arrange a follow up. You were, for the most part, left alone.

So why did you feel indebted? Expectant almost?

“Fuck.” You were dry shaving despite routine. Egregious by will, you agreed to be somewhat presentable and astute. Not that it required much.

“Please tell me you’re ready.” Cyrah, your best friend of uncountable years, laments loudly over the phone. She’s set you up with a hot date, an attorney turned Senator from Boston, another townie recalled for your commiseratation. You knew very little about this man, except for the fact that he was 6’2 and a dom. You were reluctantly sold on a sex dream, behest your devotion to being single and independent.

“Y/N!”

You wince, noticing traces of blood smearing against the dull razor and your chafed Achilles’ tendon. It’s agonizing to say that beauty is pain when all you wanted to do was drop dead.

“You know what…” You pitch while aggressively chucking things away in your lavish ensuite. First the ruddy razor, then the wet cloth. You surrender your truce. The hem of your dress is hitched up and over your thong clad ass, feeling an expected breeze as you wipe down your sandpaper legs with a towel.

“This’ll do. This will have to do.” You proclaim to yourself, half done up while knocking back the rest of your Cabernet. “I’m dressed. My makeup is on, whitening strips off. Completely hairless. Pussy poppin’—“

“You did not just say that.” She cackles.

The overheated phone goes from one ear to another. “God, I don’t know what it is that I can say or do that’ll get me out of this.”

“Funny. What’s going on, babes?” She softly patronizes.

“I’m being serious Cy. There isn’t a bone in my body that feels good right now.” Premonition maybe?

“It’s just a date, Y/N. Not a debilitating disease. You have absolutely nothing to lose.” Her voice follows you out to a lonelier precipice.

“Easy for you to say, you’re always playing a new man every night.” You grovel, pacing out of one room and to another. You were looking for something, although forgetfulness is a constant woe.

“So I’ve retired. Now FaceTime me. I wanna see the full haute couture.”

You stalk around your penthouse loft and finally set the ringing phone down on the small half table by the door. Following a lungful exhale, you step back to adjust your stance in an elongated satin pearl white dress. The spaghetti straps were tied up in small little bows which then drew attention to your cleavage and shapely figure. The hot pink strappy, wrap around heels made you stand taller than intended and that was enough to throw Cyrah into a fraternizing fit.

“Damn girl, look at you. And those shoes!” She appears nose first into the screen, squinty eyed and speculative.

“Stuart Weitzman.”

“Pftttt like I’d know! Turn around.” You shamelessly do a 360 for her, hands pivoting in the air as if the Queen of England could’ve done any better. “Ass, ass, hot ass!”

“All thanks to Dalton.” You mention your faithful trainer. Cyrah tuts, hooting on about her dislike for gyms and fitness. There’s some silence as you get adjusted, scampering for your tennis bracket and rings and then finding a moment to put on some earrings. Your ornate ability to play nice has Cyrah grinning from ear to ear. She knows you were going to put out. It’s been a long time coming. Even all of Sinderson had their stock money on it.

“I’m going to head out soon but I do owe you for this.”

“Just have fun and we’ll call it even.” Cyrah abids in the distance.

You pause to make a face, opening your mouth to say something crucial before getting startled by a loud, ceremonious bang. The door rattles off its hinges when a succession of impatient knocks erupts through the annex. The phone falls flat against the glass countertop, shielding Cyrah into darkness.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea.” You answer, brows drawn together.

“Y/N do you need back up?”

“It’s fine.” You calmly state following a voice that, in any circumstances, was the most recognizable.

“Open up!” An unrelenting pupil called out while roughly wiggling the brass knob. You barely get the door open when two men finally barge in.

“Oh good you’re home.” Bucky hisses, impaled by the infractions of his own dismay. He’s lugging around another man who looks to be in terrible shape. He’s hunched over, a hand clutching his side. Bloodied and bruised.

“What are you doing here James?” You stand afar while becoming a stranger in your own home. Bucky deposits the wounded man onto the sectional, giving you a clear sight of Steve. Your insides twist into an undoable knot. He tries to sit up, neck tilted back as his eyes glaze over the ceiling moulding, chest rising and falling.

“Oh my god, is he OK?” You don’t recognize the discerning pitch in your tone, eyes wide open, mouth agape.

“See Buck, I told you she’d give a shit.” Steve adds weakly. It’s the first time you see him like this. Hurt, powerless and at mercy. The deafening perils of his own doings were finally catching up to him. And now you’re reaping those repercussions as well.

“Never thought I’d see the day of light,” You mutter, rushing to his side like a willing assailant.

“Now there’s a lie.” The chary look on his face lulls when you place a hand over his. He’s sprawled back, knees apart, breath baited as your eyes meet. There’s some tenseness, deliberation. Every iota behind Steve’s aquatic blue eyes swirled with contemplation, crinkling in the corners to conceal the throbbing pain.

“Let me see.”

There isn’t a word said otherwise as you begin to move his rigid hand away from the side of his soiled white Givenchy dress shirt.

He groans a firm ‘easy’ that ruminates every sensation. Steve tips his head back, surrendering a bloody palm that lays flat on this thigh.

“Unbelievable.” You enunciate, inspecting a half open wound. Fresh blood defaces the fabric of your dress as you lean in to take a closer look. Maimed with a bit of dry and glistening gore, you couldn’t look away. There’s an enticing allure that keeps you focused.

“You look nice.” He murmurs right in your hair, taking in the sweet nostalgic scent of white floral and patchouli that placates his senses for a fleeting moment.

You peer up at him, nose to nose, eyes feigning your innocence that quickly shuns him.

“Of all the things you could say to me right now.” Steve weeds a delicate smile, forcibly extricating his need to hold you close. His likeness grew fond and strong. He was sure enough that you were his woman. But for now he’d have to shelf that thought out of delirium, letting his eyes fall shut again.

“We need you to watch him.” Bucky sweeps through your studio with zero regard, checking behind every chiffon curtain and balcony window that takes up half the space.

“She’s not doing anything.” Cyrah intercepts. She was still on the line. Thank god.

“Cyrah, long time, no fuck.” He booms from one room and into another, grabbing your unattended phone with him.

“Leave her alone Buck.” She says a little too wearily. They start to have a more serious conversation as Bucky rounds the guest room, keeping his tone at ease.

“So who was it this time?” You calmly inquired in private while seated on the edge of your seat. Anger wasn’t your prized countenance but with Steve it was a permanent one.

“Couldn’t tell you.” He cat stretches himself out on the couch, almost pulling you in with him.

“What ever happened to the bloody knuckle rule?” You reflexively move back.

“Oh angel, you gotta take a hit every now and then.” He harrumphed, arms slung over the couch top as if he were being crucified. He turns his head over slightly, besting his predicament with some factuality and sarcasm that you don’t see for. “Though this time it was a stray bullet… Undecided between the head and the heart.” He laughs.

You emote a million different emotions, shoulders sulking with pitiful dread. A soft, pathetic ‘oh my god’ escapes your lips.

“It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks, I promise.” He falters, just as concerned for you.

“He needs to be admitted to a hospital.” You advocate.

“Bruce is on his way.” Bucky appears from the hidden troves and tosses your phone onto the couch cushion next to you. “He should be able to take care of this.”

“I think my little sparrows got it.” Steve teases in a daze, deliberately wanting your soft hands to nurse him back to good health. You’re a bit uncomfortable.

“How far away is he?” You inquire.

“Zipping down Adelaide as we speak.”

“Great, then I’ll make myself useful elsewhere.” You get up on your feet feeling ten times heavier than before.

“That won’t be necessary.” Bucky cautions.

“Stay.” Steve softly pleads. Your gaze bounces from the two men, incredulous.

“This is incriminating.” You fathom.

“So be it… Sam and Nat have the area covered. But for now we need you here.” Bucky demanded while keeping surveillance. Your silence earns a catalytic eyeful. “Can you do that?”

“Bucky.” You give your fondest nemesis a sideways look. He mirrors the same hardened expression to no avail.

“Please, Y/N. This isn’t me asking.”

🩸

It’s for certain that if you fully let yourself go then you’re just like him but worse. Every part of you spited the New York gangland and being a seldom ally was unfavourable to repent. You were essentially stuck in a tax bracket, piling on a different reputation for yourself and being an absolute phoney at it.

But as the admonitory saying went—Do as he says. Not as he does.

"He should be fine now.” Bruce appears before you, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose while passing you a grave look. You stand right by the corridor, leaning against the wall adjacent to the guest bedroom. Unmoved throughout the night, your lips press into a fine line, motioning him with a carefully longing demure.

“The stitches are somewhat tight so make sure he’s not being riled up which I believe requires you to hold your tongue for once.” He tuts, completely jaded by the ordinary. You glare at him, jaw shifting. “Otherwise, bed rest and plenty of fluids should get him going.”

“For how long?”

“Could be a couple of days, given the fact that he nearly suffered from major blood loss and acute sepsis.” Bruce walks you out to the dimly lit living room, standing at a safe distance as he searches and gathers his belongings.

“Oh my god.” You proclaim, a hand pressed to your forehead.

“Not to worry, I’ll check up on him throughout the week and there’ll be a nurse on standby to dress the wound and run vitals as needed.” He tugs on his ear mid-thought. “Also no painkillers, just a double cask.”

Your face drops. He softly chuckles.

“I’m just messing with you. He's only on local anesthetic which should be wearing off soon.”

“Great.” You grumble.

Bruce unrolls each shirt sleeve with precision, stalling in silence. “So I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what exactly?”

“He has a warrant out for him.” He meets your leery gaze, enticed by your fleeting ingenuity.

“The NYPD has a ‘no say, no tell’ matter of course. They usually don’t interfere in his business.”

“Sure. If that’s what you think.” He answers, sardonic and reproachful.

You take a few short steps, closing in on him while categorically choosing your words.

“What am I supposed to know?” You challenge at a calmer stance.

“There are some documents that I need you to look over and act as a witness to.” He explains while rummaging through his satchel. You simply nod, thinking very little. “They’re sort of… official.”

“That’s it?”

“Take a look and see for yourself.” He urges while handing over the Manila folder. In the partially sealed envelope there’s a small bundle of documents and prurient detail that glazes past your scope of thought. That is until your eyes land on the last page. Your heart races in your throat, stomach churning at the words embossed in courier M font.

Medical death certificate.

“What the fuck?” You whisper yell, frantically looking up at the chief doctor himself. “This can’t be legitimate.”

“No, it's temporary avoidance.”

“That much I figured.” You huff with buoyant frustration, flinging the notice far from your reach. The sealed documents land on the rug by the coffee table. A careless reckoning that you refused to fall accomplice to. “Why’s he doing this?”

“You’re better off asking him yourself.” Bruce’s time is honoured as you walk him to the door, slowly stopping at the marbled landing.

“Who am I to him?” You rebut.

He scoffs, getting on his proverbial high horse that reminds you of your place. “You are the neck that turns his head.”

Wrong.

“Thank you… for everything.” You snap, holding the door wide open.

“Of course.” He nods before biding his time elsewhere.

🩸

At the break of dawn you finally decided to creep into the guest room. Making your presence small while surrounded by eye blinking darkness. You’re overcome. Angry and devoid. You were…

“You’re awake.” Steve incites in a deep sleepy baritone, buried under a swamp of sheets that quietly rustle. You suck in a deep breath, offloading your disarmament with fervour. You hated every bit of confrontation yet here you were, in the lion's den.

“Couldn’t really sleep.” You answer.

“Come lay down with me then.” He infers. There’s a slight air of confidence as he begins to readjust himself against the quilted upholstery.

Through his struggle you didn’t flinch to help. He had it down to a contentious science. Hurt and almost boastful, he finally slumped against the headboard, staring at you dead in the eyes.

“You did this on purpose.” You finally retaliate.

“Angel…”

“I’ve bear witness to a lot of things but this…” you flap the folder for show. “This isn’t my call.”

“Nor is it your concern.” He hisses. “I just need you—”

“Need me to what, huh?”

“Just be with me.” He groans, eyes screwed shut as he tries to get comfortable.

“I’m not for you Steve.” You patronize him, longingly.

“I guess not.” He spitefully surrenders, coughing a lungful that rasps every manageable word. “Fucked if I do. Fucked if I don’t.”

You’re back on your feet, getting him water before sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

“Is my father after you?” You ask, watching him take shallow sips of water in a daze.

“I wish.” He gully answers. Steve doesn’t keep in touch with your father despite his satirizing tendencies. The two men stay at arms length of the other for reasons that have your best interest at heart. It’s honorific actually.

“Tony?”

“No.” He enunciates, watching your beautiful expressions flummox some more.

“HYDRA?” You quirk.

“Are we going off the roaster now?” He finally sets the empty tumbler aside, showing off his trivially healthy physique.

“Might as well.”

Steve sighs, looking gravely inept. He’s always admired your tenacious spirit that tests his hard kept valour.

“My father wants to reign his own dynasty.” He claims. “My dynasty.”

“All of sudden?” You ebb with confusion, leaning into the conversation with concern.

Steve was a mob man from infancy. A glock thrust in hand, he’s never known another honest way of life. So this came as a surprise, an inimical one to privy.

“Well that’a because I picked a bone with him.”

“Steve.”

“Son of a gun decided to get remarried and so without will or way, there’s been some inheritance pandering.” Steve’s been escrowed for his existence and every second meant that he’d be held financially culpable. Something he’s never had to consider till now.

“That’s… wait what?” Your thoughts consume you. A million to one.

“Be my eyes and ears.” He calmly pursues. This time he was being sincere. “See what’s being moved around, scope out the infiltrator.”

You shake your head, befuddled. “We talked about this months ago, Steve. You need a benefactor.”

“Which is where you come in.” He calmly adjourns. “I’ve seen your track record and you move money better than any other capitalist institution out there. If you can forge and freeze my accounts then I can go ahead and acquire my shares.”

“If it were that easy. Why don’t you offer a pay out? Even a collateral?” You rack out all the possibilities.

“Not a chance.” He hisses as the pain resurges.

“You have land, ammunition. How about pawning off those useless boats down by the harbour?”

“I’m a made man, Angel.” He forewarned. “Nothing goes.”

“With an ego at that.” You scoff to yourself. “I’m just in the way.”

“Then stay as you are.” One too many intercessions kept Steve away from you. Not this time around.

“I have an early morning so I’m going to turn myself in.” You begin as his eyes follow your quick upward ascent. “If there’s anything you might need, just knock on the wall behind you.”

“Do I scare you?”

You freeze, tailbone pressed against the bedpost as your feet barely touch the floor rug. Steve’s ingenuity was starkly contrasted by the bruising on the side of his face. His brows drawn together formed a grimace altogether. Some days this look would make sense but right now it paralyzed you with unsureness.

“No.” Your response is almost immediate. It cuts through him as he discernibly takes in your cold defensive demeanour.

“So how can I make this easier on you?” He pageants on the low.

“By doing the right thing.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “We’ve been in this together for the long run, Angel. If anything, your moral code is a bit convoluted, don’t you think?”

“Maybe I’m finally coming to my senses. Better late than never right?” You retort, reminding him of the many wayward instances that you’ve been at his beck and call. Immune to the worst possible scenarios. A be all, end all.

“Maybe.” He growls. “But when have I ever let you down?”

“There can be many firsts.” You assure. Knowing Steve for nearly four years meant Jack shit. He’d still run you to your wits end and be covetous about it. Who were you to take any chances?

“I wouldn’t see for it.” A disproportionate smile graces his lips as you land on your feet and pad across the room, scouring the dormant abode, high and low.

“You have far more potential than who you are and who you choose to be in this lifetime.” You say while peering through the rod pocket curtains that overlooks an empty south side lot and an unmarked Escalade in tow. Natasha.

“You’re not a preacher's kid to tell me that.”

You exhale loudly, drawing back from the windowsill and the lingering chill. “No but I have every right to tell you how it is.”

“Look at you.” Steve begins a fixated taunt. “It’s as if you care.”

“You’re dead to me.” You snarl, rounding the room in distracted fashion. “Gone.”

“And that right there is the plan.” He points while meandering a mirthless chuckle.

“I’ll keep the door open just in case.” You curtly state from the doorframe, sound on leaving.

Steve keeps to himself. There’s nothing he can say or add to that’ll appease the situation. It was a lost cause. He wasn’t on your side and your jarring discretion told him just that.

“You have me when you need me. That’s it.” Upon hearing this Steve’s jaw ticks. The way you said it roused some frustration. But by the next second you were already out of the guest room and in the cold abyss of your own bedroom. You exhale loud and long, shutting the door right behind you.

Steve was presumed dead. Trouble was assailing. Your father would definitely catch wind of the ordeal and call upon a sermon. You couldn’t face him or the fact that you had to answer to Steve’s attorney, suppliers, his father and family who were going to be at your neck once you made your requests on his behalf.

The underworld was now your surrendering. Every timely plight became something more undetermined. Dangerous enough to keep you on edge, let alone alive.

You truly couldn’t scathe past this.

🩸

The kitchen was spotless. The windows were sprung open. Everything was back in its original place like a pristine IKEA catalogue. You’ve salvaged your couch cushions whereas your favourite pearl satin dress was bloodied and slung over in a body bag. You’ve fallen into another day's routine. There’s a grave look on your face that replays your contemplation. Rush hour traffic and now a lurking presence keeps you a foot.

“Would you like some coffee?” You ask while absently stirring some Christmas creamer in your mug.

“If it’s on you then sure.”

“Nothing is on me.” You grit and boy did Steve wish that statement held some water. He grins as you turn around and flail an arm towards the kitchenette. “Please help yourself.”

“Are you always going to fight me?” He humours, looking lascivious in a plain white tee and sweats while limping towards you. Even in his wounded state he somehow looked affably fuckable. Don’t go there Y/N.

“Yes.” You say into your mug.

“Good to know.” He stands before you at an astonishing height. He’s close, crooning with high strung arrogance and expectancy. You were in the way, so very intoxicated by his emblematic scent that his inquest ambushes you. “Do you mind?”

Fuck me.

“No! Not at all, please have at it.” You recomposed and scurried away. He grins, watching your every move as a sign of bridled grace.

You found a niche little corner to awkwardly occupy. The proctored silence is overwhelming. Steve looks through each cabinet and grabs himself a mug to inspect. He’s making himself right at home as you pander business.

“Bucky called.”

Steve looks over his broad shoulder, brows raised while simultaneously pouring coffee into a Mickey Mouse shaped mug. “There’s a safe house down in Port Hope. You’ll be there and I’ll come to you.”

“That’s not how it’s gonna work.” He rebuts, taking his coffee black and choosing to be an authoritative piece of shit.

“What?”

“I’ll get you, wait on you if there’s counsel. Be a so-called gentleman on the lookout.” He mutters. You prime him with a disapproving look. “I need you to be on your own and as unassuming as possible.”

Steve was trying to protect you at best even though other circumstances led him to believe that you were his ride or die.

“Okay fine.” You concur. “What else?”

“You’ll be in touch with Alfie shortly. He’s got a slew of paperwork to go over with you before the press catches wind.” Alfie Ross, a disbarred lawyer who’s been doing shoddy charitable work on Steve’s payroll since the turn of a new decade. Your interactions with him have always been liminal and now your hands pushed paper just for them.

“Sure.” Steve continued to talk at you, foreseeing every partial detail on a grander scheme. You had about 30 minutes of listening capacity before you left for work. 28 minutes were up.

“This is all on me, Y/N.” He concludes with a seldom promise. Your gaze narrows while gathering your purse strings, initially adamant on leaving but then keen on his saviour like vocation. “My father will want answers and he’ll be conniving at that. But you’re my girl. You’re right here with me and so your safety is my top priority.”

“Right from the horse's mouth...” You deadpan while reaching for your phone. “Work calls. Do you think you’ll be OK on your own?”

“I’ll be fine.” He assesses your urgency with coyness, taking another large sip of coffee that deepens his tone. “Now go on. Be a ‘girl boss.’ Or a finance bro, I’m sure they’re a type.”

“Not mine.” You scoff already halfway out the door.

He continues to muse. “I’m sure there’s a rerun of Growing Pains on channel 6.”

“No visitors.” You stop to remind him.

“Oh yeah?” He quips while plopping himself on the chaise. The pain swelters a bit before he grunts, driving another hypothetical wedge. “What ‘bout that Andy fella?”

Steve knew everything there is to know about you and how you were waned into random impromptu date nights with men that were not him.

“He’s long gone. Not that it’s any of your business.” You sass and Steve is happy with himself, aimlessly flipping through the channels as you locked up to his soundly farewell.

“Have a good day, Angel.” He’d get to you some day and you’d be right there with him. Timing meant waiting. But it also meant everything.

#mob!steve x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans

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