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pin-acolada · 1 year

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CHAPTER THREE (TQOHH)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen OC

Description: Her warmth and love caress his soul making him hum with bliss. Having her presence near makes all of the dark thoughts perish, as she was the flowers that grew in the darkest part of him. She is the keeper of his soul. Holder of his heart. Without her, he is nothing.

Word count: 5641

The Queen of His Heart Series

Well off to his lonely empty bed, Aemond was still awake at the late hour. Tucked into his bed, head laying on his least favorite side of the bed, the prince stares off to the window where he admires the glitter of the stars shining bright. For the past hours, Aemond try to force himself to sleep. He tried closing his eyes by listening to the howling wind that hits his window, but the singing of the wind did not lullaby him to sleep. He then try focusing on the movement of the ocean that repeatedly clash against the walls of the castle; that was the worse decision he could've made as it resulted of him to be nauseas.

Frustratedly, the prince pushed him up with his elbows and huff out a small breath. Aemond was absolutely uncomfortable. He hated the house of the sea, he hated the throbbing pain pulsing from his stitched eye, and he hated the tight embrace of loneliness wrapped around him. The voices in his mind were loud and all he wanted to do is sleep through the night so by morning, he and his family can finally head their way back to Kings Landing with his dragon in tow so he can began to train with Vhagar. In addition to that, him and Eudora can finally ascend to the sky where he will finally get to feel the pillowy softness of the clouds cascade his scales from where he mounts.

As he sits there, he looks back at the window and watches to see if he could see a tiny glimpse of Jyrot, but again he sees nothing; I mean how could he when Jyrot blends with the night that its nearly impossible to point whether if its your mind messing with you thinkings its a shadow, or if its actually him. As his mind thought of Jyrot, it quickly thinks about her, Eudora. Her frighten eyes had never left his mind. From where he stood behind his mother, he could clearly see the way she was going through a panic attack. Aemond knew that Eudora hated the family feuding with each other, it was something that she was still adjusting too.

With it being just her and her father, who was the only family she spent most of her youth with – she experienced nothing but love. Even during her time living in Driftmark, the Velaryon's took her in as if she was their own; and with Rhaenyra included in her life the heir princess became a mother figure for her. By the time she moved to Kings Landing officially, and witness the first time the fight between Rhaenyra and Alicent once did her bubble of family love pop. Aemond remembered Eudora going up to him, asking him questions why the Queen and her godmother loath each other and of course Aemond told her the story of their friendship that came to an unfortunate end.

"You know my father was the anchor of the family. Whenever Uncle Daemon and Uncle Viserys fought, he would come in as the peacekeeper. They of course listen to him as his words held value and sense. Since then, he was known to being the anchor. Maybe I could take that role, what do you think?" she once questioned him in their usual spot, which was under a weeping tree that sat next to a pond.

"I think you should level your expectation very low cousin, but I won't discourage you to try," the prince advised. If she was anyone he would've been harsh and told her how ridiculous she sounds, except he didn't because Aemond throughout his years of knowing her, knew how big of a heart she had for their family that he made sure that no one took it for granted.

Since then Eudora has became the Anchor of House Targaryen, the peacemaker. She will share her words of wisdom by trying to break apart the arguments. Sometimes they work, but when they don't she warns them by adding Jyrot into the conversation having both parties to shut. She doesn't force them to mend as she knew that was pushing it, all that matter was easing the fights so there wasn't questions regarding the unity of their house. But during what happened today, the tension that could literally cut skin: the blood spilled from her mother, Lucerys bloody nose, and Aemond lost eye is what brought her to that state. It was no blame to Jyrot who felt his riders panic attack peaking out that he destroy the roof of the Nine Hall. In fact, Aemond was gladden that Eudora had a dragon that had such a powerful bond with her, and it made him hope that he gets that familiarity with Vhagar even though she has been with three riders, now four.

As Aemond was stuck in his thoughts of Eudora, he didn't hear the opening of his door chambers behind. He also didn't hear the tiny footsteps that were walking towards him, nor the shadow of the person. It was when he felt a touch on his shoulder did he mid-shouted at who he thought was an intruder, but when he felt the softness of the persons hand covering his mouth and the familiar perfumery did he relax.

Vanilla with a hint of honey and smoke, it was no other than Eudora.

He watched with his one good eye that it was her. The moon lit half of her face giving him the privilege once again to seeing her fiery eyes and rosy lips. When she slowly lifted her hand from covering his mouth, she sat herself down on the side of the bed – taking his hand with hers. "Eudora." he smiled.

"Hello my prince," she smiled tiredly. "I wanted to check up on you before I headed to my chambers, I-I never had the chance to ask you if you were okay... I'm sorry" she whispered in the end. Aemond wanted her to lift her head back up just so he can see those eyes again, but she didn't as she felt she was to blame for not being there for him.

"There's no need for you to apologize cousin, really its our uncle who I'm upset with truly. He didn't want you around me, I mean how could I blame him I'm... I'm hideous. No one would dare to even spare a glance my monstrous face." Eudora snapped her head up to the boy who was now looking down at their hands. Tears began to peak at the corner of her eyes, her heart breaking at his words. "I won't be mad at you, you know... for ending our friendship. I-I'll understand that you don't want people seeing you with a disfigure prince."

"Aemond what is this nonsense, I plea you to stop at once. Look at me," she gentle place her hands against his cheeks where she lifts his attention up at her. This time, she was much closer where he can feel her warmth radiating off.

Violet meet Vermillion.

"With or without your eye Aemond, you are still beautiful to me. With or without your eye you are still my best friend, the boy who I entrust with everything. With or without your eye, your soul is what speaks louder than how you look and if others can't see that then fuck them. They are absolute fools blinded with their insecurities that they would rather press them onto you to satisfy their ego, but I know... I know that you are strong and you will not allow their words get to you. But if they do, I will make sure to remind you of your beauty Aemond, do you understand."

"Y-Yes" he bleated. Aemond at that moment could no longer hold his tears. This is what he needed: he needed her poetic words, her soft warmth where he feels the safest, and her kiss that she place on his cheek that could end all of his pain. A hug is the closet you can get to someone without being inside them. It's interesting how humans instinctively know how to fold into each other where they felt a sense of safety that brings nothing, but a balm to the soul.

Metaphorically that is how Aemond felt as he fold into her. Whenever he felt at his loneliest, all the prince wants is to be held by the person before him. The person who has been by his side since her visit to Kings Landing, the person that has now became the love of his life.

"It was a fair exchange," is what he said. Eudora was the one to pull away having Aemond to frown at the lost warmth, but he made sure that she was kept around his arms that he promised would be a place where she felt safe.

"What do you mean?" She questioned.

"My eye," he pointed. "It was fair exchange. I was here in my chambers when I saw Vhagar laying by the sand. Something told me to go to her, and so I did. The closer I went I felt this pull towards the dragon, and when I was finally close where I felt the smoke of her breathing touch me I understood what you meant."

"You were the one that claimed Vhagar," she finally pieced.

"Yes, and she accepted me as her rider" he smiled proudly. "And to seal the bond, I took my first flight with her and it was extraordinary" Eudora couldn't help but to smile at seeing Aemond's happiness. He did it, he finally claimed a dragon and she was proud of him but in exchange he lost his eye as proclamation. Oh she wished how things were done differently.

"I knew I woken up probably everyone from the castle, and I was right because as I head back by the tunnel there awaited me at the end were the twins alongside Jacaerys and Lucerys. I know the situation could've gone differently, but I couldn't help the pint up anger that came out of me. Besides congratulating me, they fought me which was unfair; one versus four. Then one thing led to another, I was on top of Jacaerys and in protecting his older brother Lucerys had a blade and... this happened" he sighed pointed at the gauze that was wrapped around his stitch eye.

"I-I" she had no words, she didn't know who to put at fault. Baela had no claim on Vhagar, the she dragon was out for the taking with no rider and the pull Aemond had towards Vhagar was the same feeling her father and Laena felt as well. But the aftermath of that, yes Aemond had no right to let his temper cloud but the twins and her nephews could've handle the situation in a better matter where no harm was done. Eudora was at no one side, she couldn't put herself in that situation. "I have no words, both parties in my eyes have done right from wrong to wrong from right. Nevertheless, I congratulate you Aemond for achieving claim on a dragon. Truly, I am proud of you as I assure my father who looks down upon us is too. It's take a strong Targaryen to claim the Queen of Dragons."

"And you claim the King of Dragons, making us the perfect pair" he noted causing Eudora to laugh at his true point.

"King and Queen, we will conquer Westeros together" she smiled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way princess" he smiled. "Tomorrow, your words will come true when the rest of Driftmark see us mount our dragons together as we head to Kings Landing."

"I can't wait," she whispered. Eudora stood up from Aemond's bed as she stretched herself up, and let out a big yawn; the princess eyes began to feel more heavy. Aemond became quickly sadden when he saw that she was going to leave him alone in his bedroom. He wanted to ask her if she can stay, but knew it was no appropriate of him. Nonetheless, he was going to do it either way.

"Can you stay here, perhaps?" he coyly asked. "I know it's not appropriate for a lady such as yourself to sleep in my chambers, but it would be beneficent if you could. I have been feeling rather restless and I can't seem to fall asleep, b-but I'll understand if you deny my request."

Eudora stood there silently as she observed him. He didn't really had to say further much when she knows that in truth he doesn't want to feel alone. Eudora could read Aemond Targaryen like an open book, and she knows that he knows that which is why she never has him explain himself in depth; just by reading him is enough. With a gentle sigh she agreed in her mind, besides she was too tired to walk to the east wing where there was her room that she lived since she was little girl.

When Aemond didn't hear anything from her, but movement he grew embarrass for asking such request, however, when he felt his cover lift that was when he looked to his left to see Eudora getting under the covers. He watched with a widen eye of her slamming her pillow to make it more fluffed, and as she cuddled herself in the cover did she looked up at the stunned boy. "Well, are you not going to sleep or are you going to just sit there and watch me like a creep" she chuckled.

"Oh, r-right right." She laughed at how rigid he was and continue to laugh at the way his hand shook when he lifted the covers. Once he got himself comfortable, he laid looking at her.

Violet meeting Vermillion.

With drowsy eyes, Eudora eyes slowly flutter and she whispered "Goodnight Aemond."

"Goodnight Eudora," said the prince. With that, she snoozed right away while Aemond continue to watch her. Underneath the covers, his hand search for hers and once he felt her fingertips he interlock their hands together. The feeling of her touch made his mind and soul go complete abyss having sleep beginning to blanket.

Aemond woke up with a bang coming from his door. The boy shot up from his position as he looked underneath the gap of his chamber door of guards footsteps passing his room. Again came another bang and loud voices that seemed to be coming from his mother and Rhaenyra.

Curiosity peaked in him as he began to move from his bed, and when he moved just the slightest he felt an arm around his waist. Looking down Aemond saw Eudora whose arm was wrapped his waist and her cheeks laid against his chest. Aemond heart began to race and he grew nervous that it may awaken her which is something he did not want. In fact, he quite liked this position and he did not want to get out of bed as this was something that he wanted to cherish.

However, the bang that came again grew louder causing Eudora to wake from her slumber. Aemond breathe from his nose at the short moment.

Eudora brows pinched together of the noise and at first she grew confuse where she was for a moment. When she lifted herself off from the harden surface she turned to meet Aemond and she staggered backwards. "S-Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"No you didn't scare me, I just – I forgot where I was for a moment that's all." Before Aemond was to speak, the voice of his grandsire echoed the hallways making the two Targaryen grow confuse what was going on, again. "What is happening?"

"Your guess is the same as mine, I awoke as well from the commotion," said Aemond. Eudora heard her mother shouts through the hallway, and that made the princess lift herself off the bed quickly. "W-wait wait – Eudora don't go without me" he snapped. Eudora rolled her eyes at the boy, and stick out her hand which he took and from there the two exit out from his chamber. They followed the voices of their mothers and when the loud noise was heard more clearer they came across the open doors of the study room.

The two peak their head from the corner and saw their mothers, Daemon, Viserys, Ser Criston, and the King's Hand presented in the room. Daemon arms was around Rhaenyra's waist as Alicent was being held back by Ser Criston by orders of the King. The tension between the two ladies was felt from where they stood and Aemond felt Eudora hand tighten with his. He watched the young girls eyes began to sullen and so he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her where she laid her head against his chest. "We should head ba–"

"What are you two doing here?" The two children jumped in surprised at the sudden person who came to be their aunt Rhaenys, and behind her was her granddaughters and Jacaerys.

"We heard the noises leading here – are alright aunt Rhaenys? Why do you look sad?" Eudora questioned with a frown, but before Rhaenys was able to speak her reason someone called Eudora's name causing the girl to widen at Aemond as if saying 'we got caught.'

"Eudora, come out now from the corner" said her mother Rhaenyra. Eudora hand did not let go of Aemond who too follow behind her. They watched as it wasn't only them, but along with Rhaenys, her granddaughters, and Jacaerys that follow behind. "What are you six doing spying?" questioned the princess.

"We weren't spying princess Rhaenyra as your voices could be heard from our chambers. As you can see in front of you, your loud commotion awoken the children from their slumber. If you were smart enough to close the doors as that is how they work, you wouldn't have us spy as you pursuit" Rhaenys said without filter making Rhaenyra bow her head remembering that the woman was still mourning over death of not only one, but two of her children now. Laenor was found burnt at the Halls of Nine, and the person 'responsible' faced the consequences which was being beheaded and being fed by her dragon.

"We apologize for our insensitivity children, we were just having another... disagreement is all" Alicent elucidated.

"What about this time huh? Whatever it is it could done outside of this castle, don't you understand that my husband and I alongside our mourning for are now two children that had passed! Do any of you have any sort of sympathy within your hearts to understand that!" Rhaenys yelled out causing the children in front to jump at the escalation.

Uncle Laenor is gone? Eudora thought, and again the water works began to shower. Aemond noticed Eudora change of mood having him wrap his arms around again. Alicent watched the two interact, and it truly did comfort her to see that her son found someone that he can confide on. Alicent has seen the two friendship and that was one of the reasons why she persisted on bringing Eudora back to Kings Landing.

"We truly apologize for disrespecting princess, we won't further burden you with our presence. Jacaerys, wake up your brothers telling them we are leaving to Dragonstone now. Eudora, my love pack whatever you need since you will be coming with us." Rhaenyra spoke to her children, afterward quickly giving a glare to Alicent who began to peeve.

"W-What? Eudora is not coming home with us?" Aemond quickly questioned. Eudora too was confuse as no one told her this. "But Kings Landing is her home, that's where she belongs" he affirmed.

"No, where she belongs is with me; I as her mother have that right and Daemon as her step-father agreed that it is within our right that Eudora is to come to Dragonstone with us. I gave my promise to Kalea that I will take Eudora under my wing. Same goes with Daemon who promised Maegor," Rhaenyra counter argued to Aemond, giving him a cold glare in exchange making the boy push himself in front where his body hides Eudora.

"Please" Alicent couldn't help but laugh at the princess absurdity. "Eudora is not of your blood that you have carried for nine months, be realistic here Rhaenyra. As for Kalea, you are right you did promise and you have fulfilled that. Now, Eudora is under our watch as she coming at that age where we must prepare her for suitors who would want to take her hand. We have the resources and the education from the septa's at Kings Landing who will educate her of those matter. And as Queen, it will be my duty to care and cherish Eudora as if she was my own child."

Rhaenyra pulled herself off Daemon grasp as she tried, once again, advance pulling Alicent's hair but again the two ladies were pulled apart where the men did not allow them to spare their hands of such violence. "Enough! I've had of it already" Viserys intervened. "Rhaenyra for once I agree with Alicent on this matter regarding who takes guardianship over Eudora. The princess will be coming with us to Kings Landing where she will be educated and well taken care. And to further apply, it is I that Maegor wanted his daughter to be taken under wing – not Daemon. It was written under his will and I will respect my young brothers wish and will fulfill it, but that doesn't mean you will not see her Rhaenyra. Eudora has the freedom to visit you as she wishes, but that being said she will be coming with us."

"Thank you husband," Alicent spoke finally for once he was on her side, and to be honest it made her alighted. However, it did not come to a surprise when Alicent watch Rhaenyra pulling Eudora away from her son who tried to grab her arm which was snatched away by Rhaenyra.

Everyone watched as Rhaenyra crouch in front of her daughter who was in tears. She brushed a piece of her hair that hid part of her face, and came to meet with those Vermillion eyes she always loved. She peppered her with kisses all across her face, and pushed her into her arms where she could smell and feel her once more. As she pressed the center of her forehead against Eudora, Rhaenyra did not move her eyes away from her as she spoke "Please father, I beg you let me bring Eudora with me. I have never been away from her since her time in Driftmark. I will bring Septa Velma, the one who taught me when I was her age. She has done well of educating me, and I will make sure that she is ready for Lord who challenge for her hand."

Rhaenyra felt her fathers hand rest upon her, making her close her eyes. She didn't want to leave Eudora at the hands of Green, she didn't want her to be corrupted by their ambitious and belief. She is Rhaenyra's daughter, and though she had not carry her in her womb for nine months does not mean she is considered as her own. "Rhaenyra I admire your motherhood for the girl, but I assure you daughter she will be alright. She will be under my wing, in fact I will have one my entrusted knight become hers."

"Ser Arron Petrovy, him" Rhaenyra emphasized.

"Yes, Ser Arron Petrovy. Kalea's most trusted knight, once we land there he will be notify of his switch post to Eudora Targaryen" he promised.

Everyone watched Rhaenyra contemplating, waiting if that was good enough for the princess to let go of her goddaughter.

Eudora placed her hand against her mothers cheek, pressing her final kiss on her head "I will be okay mother, trust in Uncle Viserys as he promise that no harm will come to me. Plus, I think it would be best for us both and I will be able to fly to Dragonstone since its not a far flight there, practically thirty minutes maybe less. I will be fine mother, I assure you."

"Okay, if that is what you want I will come to agreement with that. All I want is the best for you my love, truly. It is a mother's right to be hesitation of being so far away from their own child" Rhaenyra stated having her see Eudora agreeing with her. "But I want you to come at least every 3-4 months, and to stay for a two weeks max; I know I can't have you too long so it will ease my heart knowing what I expect within that timeframe."

"I promise," Eudora smiled.

"Great, now that we come to agreement" Alicent said cutting their moment, "Eudora, my love, pack your belongings as we will be heading back to Kings Landing after we our fast. Aemond please head back to yours chambers and change to a appropriate attire" she said turned to her son who didn't take his eyes off Eudora who has not been let go of Rhaenyra's arms. When Alicent spoke his sons name once more, he took his attention away from the two princesses and back to his mother who gestured with her eyes for him to exit and do what he was told.

Before his departure to his chambers, he looked back at Eudora who then looked at him. Her eyes told him enough, don't worry I will see you. With that, he departed but not before slamming his shoulder against Jacaerys who winced at the harsh compact exchanging his uncle a glare in return who did nothing but smirk with satisfaction.

As everyone began to leave from the room, the only two left was Jacaerys and Daemon who go close to the two girls and including themselves in the hug. Once they finally pulled apart, Daemon and Rhaenyra wrapped their arms at each other wait as they look at Eudora. "So how come I wasn't invited to the wedding?" she pouted making the two Targaryens to laugh at the girl.

"It was very quick, the only that was present was Syrax and Carraxes. It was indeed a fast decision from the both of us, but we thought best of it for our house." Rhaenyra cleared.

"So does that mean I call you father?" Eudora asked looking up at her uncle.

"Did you call Laenor father?" he asked which she answer by shaking her head, "then no – that is if you don't want too. After all, I can never replace your father so it's whatever you feel comfortable my little dragon. Irregardless, I'm happy with either: uncle or father."

"Well I guess we will have to see," she smirked making the rogue prince chuckle at her cheeky reply.

"We best head to our chambers and change. I will see you at supper won't I my love," Rhaenyra spoke caressing Eudora's chin lovingly.

"Why of course mother, it will be the last until I see you at Dragonstone." Rhaenyra only replied with a sad smile as she nodded at her daughter.

During the duration of morning supper, the blacks and greens were on their designated side. Eudora sat between Rhaenyra and Daemon whereas Jacaerys, Lucerys, and the twins sat across from them. Aemond sat by his mother as it was the only side of the table where he can see Eudora from his eye-line.

Aemond watched the smile plaster on her lips on whatever Daemon whispered in her ear. Rhaenyra didn't leave her hand that rest upon Eudora's as she ate her meal while also making conversation with her sons. If he was to be honest, he wished to be on their side of the table regardless if was around the Strong boys. As long he sat by Eudora, he was sure he would've eaten his meal.

Alicent saw her sons eye not moving from the Targaryen-Velaryon family, and so she nudge him with her elbow making him turn his attention to his mother who mimed to finish what he could. Helaena watch the interaction in silence between the two, and followed where Aemond was looking which was to Eudora who was giggling at Lucerys who tried to be sly of stealing food off his older brothers plate. Helaena peered at the black-white hair girl once more, and moved back at playing with her food. "watch beware, as she will form the heart she holds. Watch beware, as she will form the heart she holds"

"What nonsense comes from you again, mad sister?" Aegon hiccuped, taking another sip from his wine.

"Nothing but the truth" was all she said.

"Remember to send me letters of anything – I want to know everything" they were outside the gates of the castle. The greens as well as the King board the boat as they let the family say their final goodbye to the princess. Jyrot alongside Vhagar were standby waiting for the riders to fly out back to Kings Landing.

"Yes mother" Eudora nodded, and with a final embrace from her mother she moved to her nephews and cousins, bidding her goodbye to them. "I'll see you in three months, hopefully your swordsmanship advances by the time of my arrival." she winked. The Velaryon boys rolled their eyes at their sister's ego, but agreed they would be waiting for her of that promise.

Lastly, she went up to her uncle Daemon who looks down at his little dragon standing before him. He looked up at his wife and the children, Rhaenyra didn't need him to say a word as she and the rest of the children went back inside the castle. Once they were far from hearing, Daemon knelt down where he was at Eudora height. Eudora watch with curiosity at her uncle who pulled a sword from behind, which was the Black Celestial Sword, her fathers. "My father's sword," she said with awe. "H-How–"

"I've had it somewhere safe where no one was to put their hands on it. Since you will be staying in Kings Landing, I would say it is best I give you his sword to not only protect yourself, but to praise how well you've been progressing on your training. Knowing Maegor, he would be proud and as any proud father he would want you to take it in honor to his name." He pushed the sword to her which she gladly taken with careful hands. Daemon watches the way she twirls the sword with her hands, and continues to be impress how it did not pull her down which showed the strength she muscles.

Eudora admires the sword that touches her skin – she remembers told by her father of the use of this sword. The war memory that imprint on here was historical. She admires the way the sword glows when the sun hits showing its true form of color and sharp definition. "It suits you well," Daemon's voice snapping her out of daze.

"Yes, it does" she said as if she was hypnotized. "But we will train together right? At our spot every week" she quickly add with hope in her Vermillion eyes.

"Always," Daemon promised having her breath out with a relief. "Now you must go, I will see you in three moons my little dragon." The rogue prince lifted himself off the ground as he watch his niece wave him off as she walked to Jyrot.

Aemond who was by their two dragons watch the sword she holds. He sees the fascination in her eyes as she began to wield the sword, he was stunned how flamboyant she was at knowing the skills of the sword. He then thought back of his King-father who told him short stories of Eudora's father and his reputation of being the Targaryens best swordsmen, and though Aemond only met his uncle once he can somehow see her father in her. Also remembering she telling him her secret of training over night with their uncle.

"Where did you get that?" He asked while extending his hand to touch the steel sword, but wince when Eudora smack his hand off from touching it, "What I can't touch it now?"

"Uncle Daemon gifted it to me as a praise for improving on my training. This sword was my fathers, so no I don't want you touching it – I don't want you dirty callouses to smear it" she teased by sticking her tongue out, which Aemond return as well.

"I guess wooden swords are now out of your level of training," he noted. "Good for you Eudora, maybe one day you and I can duel; the winner will have to order the loser whatever they desire."

"I look forward to that" she smirked. "But since we are still in training and know little of the art, I wager something better; whoever lands in Kings Landing first will have the other do their work for a week" giving herself a head start, she pushed Aemond as she ran to Jyrot who helped her mount the saddle. Aemond picked himself off the ground and ran up the ladder to mount Vhagar.

"That's not fair!" he yelled out knowing she was going to win base off how gigantic Jyrot was compare to Vhagar.

"I'll see you on the other side" she yelled out from where she flew. Aemond could hear her faint giggles making the joy in his heart to burst. This is what he wished for, and he was glad that it was granted. If his father allowed Eudora to stay in Dragonstone instead of Kings Landing, he swore on the old and new Gods he would've been so depressed and would've hold such resentment towards Rhaenyra for having her way once again. Nevertheless, Aemond was looking hopeful of the path between him and Eudora and would make sure she enjoy every part of it.

Oh how unfortunate that some things are not meant to go in his order.

NEXT: CHAPTER FOUR

Prepare to meet older Eudora and Aemond ;)

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TQOHH taglist:

@jugheadisaweirdo, @caspianobsessed,

@xcharlottemikaelsonx, @zgzgzh,

@sawendel, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond x reader #daemon targeryan #aegon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #house of the dragon #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagines #pinacolada

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ofthecaravel · 7 months

Note

I’m kinda considering adding more to it since it’s so short

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When Danny was 10 years old, he tried to pierce his own ear with a discarded fish-hook he found in the shallow tide pools. He thought it would make him look like a pirate. He thought he would finally be tough.

He cried when it tore through his lobe, but he barely noticed the tears since he decidedly did it underwater. A small cloud of blood formed and he swatted it away in frustration. The hook was well sized, definitely larger than the average needle used on land. His original plan was to wear the hook on its own, letting it droop from his ear. Badass right? But when it started scratching at his neck and even grazing the top of a gill, he elected to remove it. However, what he hadn’t considered was the barbed shape of the hook that made it harder to remove, as well as the quick rate at which his body healed itself. He tugged and tugged, desperate to remove it, but it wouldn’t budge.

Panicking, he swam in circles and yanked like his life depended on it. In his fit of worry, Danny wasn’t paying attention to where he was going and his tail brushed against a large sea anemone. He gave a muffled scream in the water as pain shot through his tail. The bottom began to go numb and he struggled to keep himself afloat with his scrawny arms. He gave up and let himself sink down to the shallow sea floor. He lay on his back and sobbed. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he do anything right? He was always so clumsy and all the elder sirens were always having to look out for him. He felt defeated.

But then that defeat turned into hot anger and he latched onto the fish hook still dangling from his ear, a reminder. He took a deep, rattling breath. And then he yanked down on the hook and screwed his eyes shut as he screamed. It tore through and sunk to the sandy bed.

The siren turned on his side and sulked, right ear pressed flat to the earth while the other sizzled in pain. He knew it would heal by morning.

…..

Danny now sat fourteen years later at the edge of an empty dock while Sam Kiszka pressed an ink tipped quill to his left lobe. He’s marking up the spot.

“You sure you only want this side done?” Sam questioned. He had experience piercing both of his brothers’ ears.

Then the sailor notices a thick scar on Danny’s left ear and wonders where it could’ve came from. Sam brushes his thumb over the scar and Danny smiles.

“Yeah, one will do.”

He knew he didn’t need some big gold hoop to be tough. But now as Sam applied an abalone stud to his ear, he felt proud of how far he’s come.

Sam kisses his cheek. “I think it suits you really well.”

——————————————————

I hate how much I love them 🙄

I am so obsessed with this I FLEWWWWW to my tablet

a humble gift for you, my baby child!!! thank you for them!!!!

#thinking of baby danny crying makes me so miserable #but hes come so far 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#gvf #greta van fleet #danny wagner #sam kiszka #myart #greta van art

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pherelesytsia · 2 years

Text

May I have this dance?

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/Reader

Summary: Thomas had never found the bravery to ask Y/N to a dance, let alone talk to her, but when he notices her in the embrace of a man and hears about the men desiring to marry her, he cannot hold back.

Warning: Fluff,

Word Count: 1.4k

a/n: Requests are open.

Thomas Shelby Masterlist

Couples danced, lost in each other's gazes, and fell into a pit of love, listening to the serenade of adoration. Colours blurred, bright and radiant and fear didn’t reign and cloud the mind. The worries were forgotten, gone with the wind for a moment, even if only for a brief one.

Resounding laughter rang and mingled freely with the chirring of glasses through the richly decorated hall, but a gravely, upset expression coated his stern features, kissed by the beams of candles. The piercing eyes had grown darker, a thunderstorm dark and foreshadowing terror, yet the sky was bright blue. His finger tapped against the wood of the dark table in an unknown rhythm, cutting through the raucous laughter of men and women lost in the depth of the endless glass.

The usually calm and collected man seemed upset, angered. His senses weren’t clouded, saw sharp, hadn’t touched the glass of rum. He was sharp-minded, yet Thomas Shelby couldn’t understand the nagging feeling feasting on his heart. Mocking words were carried with the wind and Thomas tried to ignore his brothers, but he couldn’t. The words let him know he was a fool of a man, mocking him, dragging him through the mud, letting him know it was supposed to be him by her side and not another man whose name he didn't know.

Darkness, a storm, lightning and thunder reigned in his stony gaze of flaming blazed. The gun at his side, hidden from the gaze of men, grew heavier with each passing moment and he wished to kill the man on the spot, daring to lay his filthy hands on the woman he loved with all his heart and soul. Thomas cursed himself, regretted not having found the courage to date Y/N earlier.

Arthur and John had noticed the moment they settled down where their brother was staring, saw his eyes were focused on Y/N, Ada's best friend, who came to see them almost every day and worked in a local bakery. Every one of them apart from her knew about Thomas' feelings for the woman of his age, but not the reason for his wordlessness if she was near. The two brothers laughed, kept looking at Thomas, whose gaze was fixed on the young woman who was in the arms of another man.

"You were too slow, Thomas. A woman like Y/N won't wait for ages for you to get the courage to approach her, but you probably blew your chance and now she has another one. She wears a pretty big ring." John said and emptied the glass in one gulp.

He wanted to continue, wanted to let his brother know a few more things, but he sealed his lips as eyes met and silenced him harshly, making it impossible to continue. Thomas laughed low. Y/N is a woman of class, Thomas thought to himself, would never date a man like him.

"But you can ask Y/N for a dance. Maybe she will give you one," added Arthur and lent back with folded arms, knowing as well as John what Tommy was thinking.

"You'd better hurry, there's a long queue of men wanting to dance with her and I'll probably be in line too. I will definitely be faster than you." John joked sarcastically, mocking his brother even more.

"And the line of men who have asked her for her hand in marriage is enormous, gigantic, but she has sent them all to the desert, far away.", "I have heard from Ada that more than twenty men have asked for her hand in marriage, but she wasn’t interested in any of them. Politicians were among them, rich men, maybe even a prince." Michael chirped in.

"But you can't impress Y/N with money or wealth. She is into the smart ones, the gentleman." John said and sat back.

He glanced from Thomas to Arthur on whose lips an ever-widening smile spread he could not hide anymore.

"Shut up, if I wanted to dance with her then I would go," Thomas said in a low tone.

"Okay, a new song is about to start. I'll be on my way. I want to dance with Y/N too," Arthur laughed.

He straightened the dark tie resting on the white button-down, rested his hands on the table and propped himself up, rose quickly as Thomas was looking emotionlessly into the void but Arthur read his brother like an open book for children, knew exactly what he was thinking, saw it in his eyes glowing in the candlelight.

"I'm going. Order me some whiskey. I will greet Y/N on your behalf." Arthur added.

He grinned, convinced he could force his brother to get up and go to Y/N, but Thomas sat silently, not noticing how stiff Y/N was in the arms of the man trying to elicit a smile, a loud laugh with his mis-chosen words.

Arthur fastened the buttons of his dark suit jacket and led the way, leaving his brothers behind and walked straight towards Y/N.

Deep in thoughts, she heard a voice calling her by her name. Her eyes brightened, twinkling like stars as she saw Arthur approaching her with a grin, knowing, hoping, the tall man wanted to help her out of the torment she was in, to stop the suffering of the unfunny and twisted words. Lightness was in her gaze and the man whose name she had forgotten thought to himself that Y/N had finally thawed, had finally taken a liking to him, but as his dark eyes settled on the woman, he noticed she was looking past him. Y/N whispered an apology, and broke free from the touch of the man in the light blue suit, took two steps and stopped. The blue eyes she recognised among thousands rested on her and the fine smile grew larger and larger, had hoped he would come to ask her to a dance.

Her heart was beating faster. She was lost, dumbfound.

"May I have this dance Y/N?", "I was worried you would never ask me, Mr Shelby," Y/N repeated.

A mischievous grin spread across his lips and he took a step towards the young woman in the flowing long material. The thin belt of hundreds of stars sparkled in the beam of the chandelier. Her eyes slid past Thomas and gave John sitting at the table with a new glass and to Arthur walking quickly back to the table where John was waiting with a grin, knowing if Y/N found himself in the arms of another man that Thomas would rise quickly.

"You were waiting for me?" he asked, surprised.

Heat was rising.

"Yes, I was, Mr Shelby, and I was worrying I would have to come and ask for a dance." Y/N breathed, threatening to lose herself in his gaze.

"Then why did you dance with other men when you were waiting for me?", "Mr Shelby, if I hadn't danced with someone, then I probably would never have got your attention. I put on the most beautiful dress my wardrobe had to offer to catch your attention if you never talk to me when I visit your sister." Y/N continued.

He felt like a fool, an idiot, but no curse escaped his throat.

"If I had known you were waiting for me, I would have come earlier," Thomas spoke.

"I've been waiting years for you to approach me, Mr Shelby, but it seems you only have eyes for other women." Y/N breathed.

Thomas raised his eyebrows, realised what Y/N had said and thought he had misheard, but then he understood he had heard correctly, that his senses were not telling him what he had wanted to hear for a long time.

"I won't keep you waiting anymore. May I ask you for this dance and all the others for the rest of your life?" Thomas asked.

Y/N found herself in his embrace, found her harbour and lost herself as Thomas danced with her in his arms through the night, and instantly it was very clear to everyone watching them no one could free her from his embrace, nevertheless, Y/N wished not to miss his closeness ever again.

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nuagederose · 6 months

Text

Dark Roots of Earth | Chapter One: Empty Spaces

(book two of As the Seasons Grey)

“When’s the last time it snowed in L.A.?” Christine asked.

“No idea,” Eric confessed. “I do know it’s been a hot minute, though. A cold minute, rather.” He peered out the window to the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains down below the plane; Christine followed his gaze to see the mountains for herself. After a nearly two hour layover in the airport in Dallas, she looked on at the vast landscape far below with a twinkle in her eye and her lips slightly parted. The only mountains she really knew were the Catskills and the Appalachians; to see the faint glimmers of Denver off in the distance under the snow line, nestled down on the edge of the Rockies made her think of Christmas time. Christmas in the beginning of June, with the tinsel and trimmings on everything even as summer commenced all around them. She leaned back in the seat with her feet up on the rung underneath the seat before them, and she sighed through her nose.

It was a long time coming there on that flight, and she was eager to feel the breeze and the spray from the Pacific Ocean. Eric had told her about the Santa Cruz Boardwalk before they boarded as well, the West Coast equivalent to Coney Island.

“All I know is there's a big amusement park there,” he had told her. “I don't know what else, just that it's a lot like Coney Island.”

It was nearly summertime, and she needed a day in which she could let loose and not think of anything for a while, especially not pertaining to that summer wedding as well. If only she could have brought Alex along, then she would not have to imagine him in a monkey suit, drenched in sweat under the New York heat. She closed her eyes and she tried to think of something else.

Anything else.

Anything that had nothing to do with a Fourth of July wedding.

“We should make a trip into the mountains at some point,” Eric then suggested, which in turn made her eyes pop wide open. “You know, just to check it all out, ‘cause we don’t really have mountains back east.”

“Right?” she chirped. “I’m eager to see the Pacific Ocean, though.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said with a nod. “Given the choice, I’d take the beach over the mountains.”

“The mountains can be rough at times,” she followed along. “There’s just something… dare I say, romantic about the beach. Romantic and lively.”

“Romantic and yet also sinister,” he added. “You’re looking out to the ocean, which extends for as far as the eye can see. You’re at the end of the world, pretty much…” His voice trailed off, and she noticed that he was looking at something across the aisle from them. Christine turned her head for a look over at the empty seats next to them: through the window on the other side, she spotted a field of cloud cover over the southern most part of the country as well as what appeared to be Mexico.

“Looks like there's a hurricane coming in,” he remarked.

“Already?” she wondered aloud.

“Oh, yeah. This side of the country's been crazy active weather wise for like the last year or so. Getting lots of snow and rain, and then lots of wind thereafter. It's just gonna be up and down and up and down from here on out, I suppose.”

Christine craned her neck for a better view of the blanket of puffy white clouds down below, and more so as they seemed to extend far off into the distance with the curvature of the earth. The sight of the clouds made her think of the heavens, and more so when she returned her gaze to the window next to Eric: she peered up to the stretch of deep royal blue directly overhead and she thought of Chris.

She thought of those final moments in the graveyard before they left for California, and she wondered if his spirit was still among them down there on Earth, or if he had made his place elsewhere. In that rich field of blue over the roof of the plane, she imagined him up there, long lush dark curls under the knit yarmulke, chubby little childhood tummy that was always so soft and warm for her...

If only there was a way that she could tell Alex about him. Accessing his memory to bring forth to crystal clear words was such a daunting task for her that she had no idea as to where to start. Perhaps she could begin from the very first day in which she and Chris had met, but it would require hours upon hours of story telling on her part for him, and as far as she knew, Alex didn't have hours and hours of free time for her. The man was going to be married to Captain Howdy in a little more than a month, and she could feel the sands of time slipping away into the black rocky swells of the earth below. She gazed down below at the mountains, at the way the sunlight only just caressed the white caps and missed the pitch dark ravines in between. She couldn't help but think of Alex and his helmet of black hair lined with a gray streak.

They soared over the Rocky Mountains and proceeded over the rolling, rocky desert in Arizona and the southeastern corner of California. At some point, as the plane began to lower closer to the earth, she spotted the vast strip of blue on the horizon beyond them in the window opposite them.

“There she is,” Eric declared in a low voice.

“Pacific Ocean blue,” Christine said, and she could scarcely contain her excitement all the while.

The plane shuddered and shook with the incoming wind, such that she clutched at the armrests on either side of her.

“Turbulence,” Eric assured her. “And the first we've felt since we left New York, no less.”

They stared out the window to the rolling desert down below: on the distant horizon stood the glimmering subterranean jewel of Las Vegas as well as the cold, vast White Pine Mountains off to the left.

“I assume that big gap there in the ground is Death Valley,” she remarked with a gesture to the left of the mountains. Indeed, a long low dark shadow spread north all along the base of the mountains, to which Eric took a closer look at.

“I'm not too sure,” he confessed. “I thought Death Valley wasn't that close by.”

Another round of turbulence welled up around them, and Christine clutched at the armrests again. They soon cleared the desert only to follow it up with the Sierra Nevada Mountains, which were also still capped with thin blankets of snow as well. Christine felt her head spinning as the mountains fell away to the expanse of the Central Valley down below.

“I think we're getting close,” Eric told her, and sure enough, the lights for the seat belts flickered on, and they did just that. “If I remember correctly, Monterey Bay comes up after the next mountain range here.”

The Central Valley stretched on north with the Interstate 5 and the collection of tiny dots and lines that were the cars and big semi trucks. All the stories to tell down there, and so little time to even so much as consider them.

“Where's Paso Robles?” she asked Eric. “I remember Alex talking about that place when he and I had a couple of glasses of wine together.”

“Paso Robles? I think we're gonna fly right over it.”

She peered out the window on the other side of the aisle, where she was met with the tops of the coastal mountains followed by rich blue ocean. She knew they were flying over it as she could barely see the edges of the vineyards or the heart of town. Nevertheless, she wondered about traveling there at some point, traveling there and trying a bottle of wine or two with Alex and Eric on either side of her.

Another gust of turbulent wind, and they ducked further down towards the earth.

“I reckon we're gonna make a circle around Monterey before we land,” she said aloud.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Eric quipped. “It's too windy otherwise.”

They dipped further down, and Christine spotted the low green hills that surrounded Monterey Bay and the long, low crescent of a coastline that hugged the royal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean. Somewhere down there stood the runway.

Eric gripped onto the armrest next to him as they sank further down.

Christine closed her eyes and thought of Alex again. If only there was a way to interrupt the wedding. If only they could think of a proper plan, and if only there was no worries about Valentina potentially getting caught by Captain Howdy or even Alex himself. That wedding mustn't happen. She knew in her heart that they must not go through with it.

Even if it did take place on the Fourth of July, that marriage was a disaster waiting to happen. They wouldn't be married a week for the arguments to unfold; Christine still flashed back on the first night when she and Eric had helped themselves into his apartment and she nearly caught them in Alex's bedroom as well as the bathroom. The memory of that still lingered in the back of her mind, like the demon Captain Howdy was to Alex himself.

Soon enough, the plane dipped down towards the stretch of black tarmac down below, and they touched down at the Monterey Airport, a few miles outside of the town itself.

Christine was eager to step off the plane and take in the smell of the Pacific Ocean, especially once Eric got the keys to their rental car. They were greeted by a hard gust of wind out from the northeast, as if nature wanted to tell them that home was still on their shoulders. Their little black car had been parked near the front of the lot, right by the big glass sliding front doors of the airport: he helped her load up the trunk and the back seat of their rental with their things and the two of them hastily climbed into the newly upholstered front seats.

“Yowza,” Eric muttered as he ran a hand over the crown of his head so his hair would lay flat.

Something about the winds made Christine think of Halloween and also Day of the Dead: perhaps it was from the fact that everything around them, despite being a mere stone’s throw away from the beach and the ocean, felt as dry as a bone. Dry as a bone, the bones of Chris’ remains left six feet under.

Eric drove them away from the airport to the Monterey-Salinas Highway, the main artery that led closer to the Pacific Coast Highway itself: all the while, they were met with the view of the ocean and the field of blue that expanded for as far as the eye could see. Far off in the distance stood a thin veil of gray as the beginnings of a marine layer once the winds died down with the incoming nightfall. The gray that reminded her of the streak of gray in Alex’s hair.

The highway morphed into what she assumed was the main street of Monterey, Fremont Street, whereby Eric brought them to the next streetlight. He caught it green and wheeled it around so they could reach their hotel with the red roofs on top in one fell swoop. They bounded into the narrow parking lot behind a series of butterscotch-colored low buildings, and he turned to her with a straight face.

“You, my friend, are nuts,” she declared.

“Nah, it’s just all about timing,” he assured her. “Especially here.”

“And it’s amazing that you remember the way to the hotel here, too,” she noted.

“I looked up the map before we left and it seemed simple to me,” he assured her with a shrug. “Leave the airport and just follow the signs and keep an eye out for the place with the red roofs.”

They both climbed out as a big gust of wind slammed into them, and they ducked into the front lobby to check in. Christine stood next to Eric with her hands tucked into her pockets, and she wished that she had brought a light jacket with her, something other than her long green jacket.

“It's so windy!” she exclaimed as Eric signed them in.

“It's a Santa Ana event,” said the girl at the front desk. “Or a Diablo winds as they're known up in the Bay Area. After this, the southern tier of the state is supposed to get slammed with rain.”

“Wow,” Christine gaped at her. “Well, we're from New York, so... you know, if it gets windy, it gets windy. Rain usually doesn't follow for a couple of weeks or so. We have more clear cut seasons.”

“There's a big part of me that's envious,” said the girl with a smile, and she handed Christine the room key.

“No reason to be!” she insisted. “I've always wanted to come out here to the West Coast, I've never been here before.”

“You'll love it here, I promise.” The girl flashed her a wink and, after she and Eric thanked her, the two of them made their way out of the lobby and towards the covered walkway on the other side of the blacktop. It was a bit of an event to lug their things into the room, a cozy but spacious room with a cleanly scrubbed muted blue carpet and two twin beds. Christine set her bag down on the table next to the television, and then she stretched her arms over her head. Eric took his seat on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom, and he bounced on the mattress a bit as if he was a young boy again.

She whirled around, and then she stepped over to the window to open the drapes. The afternoon sunlight washed through the clean glass onto the white vents of the air conditioner and the heater as well as the grains of the carpet. The only thing missing about the room was a series of nets and sea creatures: Christine wanted it all to be indicative of the ocean and the heart of the Pacific coast.

“Okay! So, what should we do first?” He rubbed his hands together and ran his stout fingers through his inky black hair.

“I’m kind of hungry,” she said. “I actually haven’t eaten since we left New York. You wanna get something to eat?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied. “The girl at the front desk told me there’s all manner of restaurants up and down the street here, and about three blocks away is a big grocery store. We could get some food and then take a walk down to the beach.”

“We should go down to Cannery Row tomorrow morning after breakfast,” Christine suggested.

“Ooh, yeah! I was hoping we could walk around down there tomorrow. You know, spend half the day there, and then we could go to the Boardwalk at some point. We’re here a week, we’ll make the most of it all.”

“Eat the food and have all the fun near the beach,” Christine declared. “Get some clothes, too.”

“Get some clothes and surprise Alex,” he added.

She thought of him right then, and she thought about keeping a log for their trip there on the California coast just to bring home to both him and Valentina as well: she knew she would want to know about the West Coast once they returned home.

Eric took a step into the bathroom: within seconds, Christine was met with the whirring sound of water in the pipes. Thus, she had time to herself to write the first part of it all and call her parents with the phone on the nightstand.

It rang three times and she realized that Wendy wasn’t home yet.

“Hey, Mom, it’s Chris,” she began. “It’s about three o’clock. Eric and I landed in Monterey and we made it to our room okay. We’re gonna go and get something to eat and then take a walk down by the beach. Tomorrow, we’re gonna go to Cannery Row and maybe the aquarium, too. I’ll tell you more later afterwards. Love you—bye.”

She hung up the phone, and she padded over to the table with her purse. She took out a pen from the inside pocket, and then she picked out the pad of paper from underneath the lamp.

The flight from New York to Dallas, then from Dallas to Monterey. The views of the mountains and the vast Great Plains. The stretch of the Mississippi River into the unknown. The veil of blue overhead. The hurricane coming into the mainland from the Pacific Ocean. She thought about Alex, and she had the impulse to call him to tell him they had made it in one piece.

As far as she knew, Captain Howdy was there with him. Waiting. Haunting him. Haunting him like how Chris haunted Christine herself.

The water switched off, and she tucked the single piece of paper into her purse. She returned to her suitcase for a fresh change of jeans before he ducked out of the bathroom. All she could think about was Alex and the wedding. That wedding.

There had to be a better way. It was something she couldn’t stop thinking about as she unpacked her long green jacket and slung it around her body.

Eric left his hair to fly as they walked down the street to the big grocery store in question, a big warehouse nestled back in the trees about a block from the beach.

“This place is like a mansion,” Christine declared as she picked out a basket. The assortment of smells that hit them, from the fried chicken to the Chinese food to baked goods, followed by the big produce section and an entire aisle dedicated to kosher cuisine.

The boxes of black and white cookies and New York cheesecake caught her attention. She picked up a box of black and white cookies, and she looked on at her own reflection in the plastic.

“You ever had any of those before?” Eric asked her.

“From one of the bakeries back east, yeah,” she told him. “It’s been a long time, though. I haven’t had one since I was like ten.”

“Let’s get some,” he suggested. “Some rainbow cookies, too…” He also picked out one of the cheesecakes on display as well. She spotted some coffee cake on the bottom shelf, and she wondered if Alex would go to bed that night with a warm feeling inside of him. He was going to bed with someone who didn’t love him.

They filled up their basket by the time they checked out, and proceeded on down to the beach. It was a bit of a walk, but it was something the two of them could handle, especially with the wind blowing and the smell of the sea salt all around them. Eric kept the burlap grocery bag in hand as they strode over the rise of sand dunes; when they reached the summit, they stopped, and they looked out to the ocean before them. The sun hung low over the blue waters and the never ending expanse of waves, and the chill of the ocean loomed over them.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked her over the noise of the gales and the waves that crashed down on the shore below. Even with the Santa Ana event in full swing on the mainland, the sea still thrashed down before them as if that aforementioned Pacific hurricane had made landfall right then.

“Alex,” she told him. “I just… I wonder how he’s doing right now. I wish he was here with us, too. I wish he could see the ocean like we are right now.”

“He’s with us in spirit,” Eric pointed out as he reached into the bag and took out the black and white cookies for her. Christine gazed back at him and the little thoughtful smile on his round face, accentuated by the hazy sunlight right over their heads. His long black hair lapped behind his head against the winds as if he walked with a sail behind his back. She stood there with one hand in her pocket and her other hand holding onto the box of black and white cookies.

If only there was a way to tell Alex about Chris.

And if only there was a way to Eric about Ann.

#as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #dark roots of earth #dark roots of earth fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 1 #traditional art #oc art #eric peterson #testament #testament band #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”

#finn shelby imagine #finn shelby smut #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders x reader #finn shelby x y/n

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

Your Fault

warnings: strong language, consumption of alchol, mention of death without actual death, very much angst

era: July 7th 2021

❀ NCT 127's 5th anniversary isn't a day to celebrate and be happy for everyone

To Doyoung:

“Happy 5th anniversary oppa!”

“I hope you and the boys are having a great time <3”

JiHo stared at her phone intently waiting for the “sent” at the bottom of her screen to turn into “read”. She had been staring at her phone like that for nearly an hour, yet nothing changed. The girl knew that the boys were busy, but somewhere she hoped that she’d hear from them. Besides the short “wished you could be with us” message she had received the evening before from Taeyong she hadn’t heard from anyone else. Of course JiHo was aware that the boys were busy, but was it a crime to feel left out and maybe want a phone call or something more than a “wished you could be with us” from anyone?

And so JiHo continued to stare at her phone, everything on the small screen getting progressively more blurry as time went on. Her eyes were straining, one almost pressed shut, the other slowly going cross-side. Her right hand, which wasn’t holding the phone, reached out to the glass bottle on her desk. A quick shake letting her know it was empty. So she reached for the other one, opening it skilfully with one hand – like she did with the other two bottles now empty on her desk – and bringing it up to her lips. “Must be nice hm~ Being an idol or whatever…”

“I’m glad you came over.” Sihyun, JiHo’s Esteem manager that lives with her, said as she grabbed the boy’s coat off his shoulders. The piece of clothing, along with his hair, slightly damp caused by the light drizzle outside. “JiHo’s been a bit sensitive and doesn’t let me in her room. She doesn’t want to talk to me at all.” Jaemin watched the woman’s face full of worry. He gave her a small reassuring smile and then glanced at the door leading to JiHo’s room. “I’ll try to talk to her.” Thanking Jaemin, Sihyun then excused herself, telling him she had to run some late night errands.

Not knowing what was happening behind the closed door of the bedroom, Jaemin knocked a few times. “Unnie~ Just leave me- leave me alone.” JiHo hiccupped between her words, her speech sounding a bit slurred. She had been drinking? JiHo?

Without a second thought Jaemin pushed the door open. A jumbled mess of protests escaped JiHo’s lips, but she froze in her chair as soon as her eyes locked with Jaemin. “What… are you doing here?” She muttered to the best of her abilities. “Coming to check up on you.” He neared the girl and poked at the bottles and the mess on her desk. “Clearly you need it.” His tone sounded very much disappointed and for a split second JiHo felt her heart ache, but she quickly turned defensive. “I do not!”

A sigh escaped deep from Jaemin’s chest and he pulled JiHo to sit on the edge of her bed next to him. “Since when do you drink?” It was quiet for a bit. JiHo looked at the bottle of the alcoholic beverage in her hand, swirling it around by circling her wrist and then started to giggle to herself. “A new hobby?” She turned to Jaemin, a big smile on her lips – however Jaemin could see the sadness behind it easily. “It’s fun. Feeling… Nothing! I can barely feel my… my lips.” Her body swayed from side to side prompting Jaemin to grab her by her shoulders and hold her in place. “It’s fun until you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.” He scoffed. “Can’t get a hangover if I don’t sleep.” She said, before turning to her desk. She then pointed at the box of another 9 bottles of alcohol next to it on the floor. “Or if I don’t stop drinking.” She grinned.

“Yah! What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s patience ran dry quickly. He just felt so furious seeing how badly JiHo was treating her own body. She never drank and now she was planning to drink 12 bottles of alcohol? Drinking herself straight into the hospital, and if it weren’t for Jaemin being here, maybe straight into her own grave. “This is strong alcohol! For all I know you can’t even handle it, so what made you decide to drink now huh?” He yelled, anger only rising watching the girl just stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Those same eyes turned to look at her laptop, located on the desk she sat at earlier. The NCT 127 online fanmeeting being streamed, muted.

Of course Jaemin knew it was NCT 127’s 5th anniversary, he knew it must’ve affected JiHo in some way, even if she kept insisting she was going to be fine and was happy for the boys. She even said that she wasn’t “part of the group since debut, so it wouldn’t even be my 5th anniversary” and everyone just had to nod and smile.

“Is that a reason to potentially drink yourself to death?” Jaemin poked her side – maybe a bit too harsh – to gain her attention again; she seemed to be zoning out every few seconds. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m tired of keeping things in.” She sneered at him and it was almost as if she didn’t drink anything. She sounded much more coherent than just a minute earlier. “Aren’t you doing just that though? Drinking on your own. Not letting Sihyun noona in? We keep telling you to talk to us, yet all you do is keep things in. The hyungs even took you out to do stuff and get your mind off things yet you get home and do the thing you always do.”

JiHo felt every drop of alcohol leave her system as she heard the somewhat condescending tone in her friend’s voice. “What the fuck? So this is my fault-“ “Kinda, yes! You just sit here feeling sorry for yourself while everyone is worried over you! We’re your friends for a reason JiHo. There are so many people who care for you, just start fucking talking when you feel down like this.”

The blood inside of JiHo’s veins started to boil and at the same time she felt tears pricking behind her eyes. “You think it’s that easy? What am I supposed to say? That I feel upset that I can’t be with 127 now? Okay. Then what about it? Me telling you this won’t change shit!” “At least you should stop lying and stop telling everyone you’re fine when you’re not! Why do you continue keeping things a secret from everyone?” Both JiHo and Jaemin’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. “But I guess you’re good at that anyway.” He added in a mumble.

Once the words registered in JiHo’s mind, the bottle that started to hover towards her lips was quickly forgotten. “What do you mean by that?” Jaemin just shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze away from JiHo. “Jaemin? What do-“ “You were supposed to debut in 2016 with NCT U?” JiHo’s eyes widened and she pushed herself to stand up. “How’d you know-“ “Then they asked you to debut in 127? Also with us… In Dream?” “How do you know?” Was the only thing JiHo could say.

“Does it matter?” Jaemin yelled, standing up as well. “Why do you continue to keep secrets from us? Do you not trust us? Is that why you sit here alone? Drinking and crying alone.” The boy watched as JiHo stood in front of him wordlessly. He could see how his words were affecting her, but he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted to let JiHo know how frustrating things were for him and his friends. He was well aware of how JiHo had her own worries and hardships, but if she never wanted to confide in anyone, then he was allowed to be mad right?

The only sound filling the room was both of their ragged breathing and the occasional shift from one foot to the other. The silence was almost deafening, a ringing shooting up JiHo’s clouded mind making her feel like she was going to lose it any second now. Her friend sending hurtful glares her way didn’t help ease the growing pain either.

“You’re right. I could’ve debuted in 2016, what about it?” JiHo whispered, afraid that her talking too loud would send surges of pain into her brain. “Why did you hide it from us? Why didn’t you say yes back then?” Jaemin interrogated her. “There was no reason to tell you if it didn’t happen. I didn’t debut so telling you I could’ve wouldn’t change a thing. I’m not in Dream, I didn’t debut in U and clearly now, I’m not in 127 either. Jaemin… It doesn’t matter anymore…” JiHo’s voice stayed as calm as possible.

“How long have you known Jaemin?” JiHo spoke up again as Jaemin didn’t say anything. She felt the tension grow exponentially, the pressure on her body and more noticeably her head increasing and bothering her more as well. “I heard it during that last meeting you had with Yebin noona and Mister Lee Soo Man…” JiHo let out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “I guess we’re eavesdropping and keeping secrets from me as well.”

She brought the glass bottle still in her hands to her lips, throwing her head back, to down as much of the liquid as possible. Before she could finish it all in one go, Jaemin gripped the bottle and pulled it away from her. “It’s not the same, JiHo!”

The liquid rushed from between JiHo’s lips, making a wet patch on her grey sweatpants. She could feel her throat and lungs burning as she coughed, caused by the alcohol going down her windpipe instead.

Jaemin watched her with concern painting his features, his hand slowly caressing her back hoping it would ease her violent coughs. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He whispered and JiHo gave him a small nod as her body calmed down.

The two 00 liners stayed like that for a while, with Jaemin’s eyes burning at the back of JiHo’s downturned head. Even after JiHo’s body stopped shaking violently, Jaemin’s concern continued to grow. It was only when he noticed the drops, which only could be tears, fall onto her sweatpants and create even more wet spots, that he decided to step in.

Jaemin’s hand securely gripped JiHo’s shoulder and he pulled her up to face him. A gasp left the boy’s mouth as he watched large tears spill from his friend’s eyes. “Ji…” It proved incredibly difficult to speak when he was faced with a situation he wasn’t ready to deal with. Maybe Jaemin shouldn’t have confronted her the way he did. Maybe acting like everything was fine wouldn’t have caused him to witness JiHo at possibly the worst she has felt.

It became a full minute of Jaemin staring into JiHo’s pain- and tear-filled eyes, feeling like he could drown in them himself, before a loud pained sob brought him to reality. The sudden jolt of JiHo’s body forward made Jaemin act quickly and pulled the girl into his chest. His hand, just as quickly, found its way into JiHo’s slightly tangled hair.

“I’m… sor- so sorry.” JiHo sobbed into his chest, tears soaking through even the thicker material of the boy’s jumper. Jaemin could feel his sweater start to stick against his chest, yet what felt more uncomfortable than the damp piece of clothing was the feeling of JiHo’s body shaking in his hold.

As best as he could, Jaemin tried to soothe JiHo. Almost like taking care of a crying toddler, he swayed the girl from side to side. His lips were pressed against the shell of JiHo’s ear as Jaemin whispered affirmations into her skin. “Don’t apologise... Stop apologising.”

“I’m only bringing the team down-” “Shh JiHo. Stop that.” He told her, as his fingers continued to comb through her hair, slowly and carefully detangling it along the way. JiHo pressed her eyes tighter as even more tears spilled from her cheeks and pushed herself closer into Jaemin’s grasp.

Mouth agape, a sob that was building up in his own chest was threatening to fall from Jaemin’s own lips. “You don’t deserve any of this JiHo, you only deserve the best.” JiHo only shook her head, but didn’t dare to speak again. “You do... You really do.”

The night in the capital of South-Korea was never really that dark. Lights always seemed to find their way past the pulled back blinds of any building that wasn’t directly blocked by another one due to bad city planning. So even during the darkest time of day, even when all the lights inside have been dimmed, somehow, it was still light enough to see inside.

So when Jaemin pulled back to look at JiHo’s face, her eyes still tightly pressed shut - which pained him immensely - Jaemin could see the light reflecting off of her wet cheeks.

Feeling two hands being placed on her burning cheeks, JiHo finally decided to open her eyes again. A few more tears rolled over her cheeks onto Jaemin’s thumbs, but luckily no new ones seemed to form. “I’m sorry for everything, all this drama. It’s my fault.” Jaemin shook his head and pulled the girl back, this time to hide his own tears that were starting to form. “Please stop apologising, it’s not your fault.”

“But-” JiHo sighed, her arms found their way around Jaemin’s small waist. “I hate that it’s always about me. I don’t want to be this cliche ‘emotional girl with so many problems and everyone has to pay attention to her problems’. I don’t want that. I don’t want to burden you guys with that, but I also don’t want that kind of attention. I know people already hate me for being in a boy’s group. I don’t want my stupid problems to be the only thing that people assiociate me with NCT.”

“Your problems are not stupid JiHo. And though I understand what you’re saying, I think it’s worse to keep it in. If anything, keeping it in just makes us worry about you more and may get you more attention. JiHo I know things suck right now, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling with everything going on right now, but… Please just talk to us when things are bothering you. We all love you.”

At those last words JiHo loudly sniffled back some stray tears. She pressed herself into Jaemin’s warm embrace and softly nodded her head. “From now on I will. I promise. And…” JiHo looked up at Jaemin, sending him a small smile that he gratefully reciprocated. “I love you guys too. You’re all I have here and that’s enough to make me stay.”

Jaemin’s hand resumed with his previous ministrations. A deep sigh left his lips as he rested his head atop of JiHo’s. “Everything will be just fine.” Jaemin pressed a kiss against JiHo’s hair. “As long as we stay together everything will be just fine.”

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct female member #nct imagines #nct angst #nct jaemin angst #nct extra member #nct additional member #nct female addition #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Reverse Flash

A backwards version of your favorite speedster comes searching for Barry, only to find you instead.

Word Count: 2403 Warnings: Crude Humor. Not proof read yet because I’m too tired.

As per my latest fics, the gender of the reader is not specified.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Barry was always nice to you.

Well, Barry was nice to everyone. I mean, his parents named him Barry. He was set up for a life of cheekiness before he was even born. But Barry was nice to you even after ‘the incident’. Barry was nice to you when everyone else stopped. On top of that, Barry was being nicer to you than usual lately.

Probably because he and Iris were having a rough spot.

That was the only annoying thing. Barry liked you, and he was interested in you, but you were still second place. He was just using you. He wouldn’t marry you, or feel a deep longing for you. He’d just take you on ice skating rink dates in the winter and give you the best Valentine’s day of your life every year. Which is everyone’s dream, you guess, but it wouldn’t have been genuine, no matter what Barry managed to convince himself.

Barry’s little support team seemed to be on the same page as you (which was a first), which both added to and subdued your aggravation. All of them were in agreement of the simple fact: you were no good for Barry. Mr. Flash was the only one who didn’t seem to get the memo.

In the very beginning, things weren’t like how they were now. Team Flash or whatever the name was considered you good colleague, and they trusted you because Allen trusted you. You had been friends with Barry longer than anyone else there. And of course you were smart, and you handled annoying journalists and incriminating footage like it was nothing. But then you’d suggested using lethal force to subdue one of the Flash’s biggest problems. That’s when the air changed. That’s when people decided you should not now, not ever go on a date with him. It would throw off the whole rhythm of the team, probably Barry’s morals and possible the timeline. Lucky you.

Though flat out rejecting Barry might make it worse. You had been irritable lately. Maybe a little more sarcastic than normal. What if you snap, and then the team snaps too? And sweet little Barry is too kind to tell you off? God, you knew you were the worst, but the thought alone seemed like more than just ‘the worst’. It was like a tornado of stinky shit just barreling toward you, somehow simultaneously faster than the speed of light and slower than a turtle filled with rocks for organs.

And it was all definitely Barry Allen’s fault.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

So, that’s why you’re here now. Stuck with watching Headquarters while all the speedsters go out and... speed. Who knows. You’re out of the loop with the whole... speed demon thing. You’re pretty sure they have a group chat without you. Fuckin’ nerds.

Your legs are stretched out to the desk in front of you. They cross over each other at the ankles, to the left of the big computer monitor that’s supposed to display the heartbeats of the team but is instead displaying something from cartoon network. A near empty bag of Chinese food sits at your side, it’s contents littered across the table.

As you chew, you look around the room. Several suits in display cases curve against the wall in a half circle, illuminated by blue light. Some are burgundy, some are silver, and some are golden. And you could smash every single one of them right now.

But you won’t, and you don’t. Not to say it isn’t tempting- it is. You still don’t touch the suits.

God, what’s been wrong with you recently? Barry was your friend, and yet you’d been so annoyed with him. His flirting had only made it worse. Wally wasn’t any better. He got even more annoying once thinking about how childish, yet powerful he was. All the Kid Flash’s were just temporary brats that never stayed, whether you liked them or not. And Iris wasn’t a fan of you. That was fine, because you weren’t exactly a friend of Iris’s either. So the most important part of your life that literally depended on superhuman existence and stopping crime was teetering because of pure social discomfort. Typical.

You’re watching the screen that serves as the closest light in the room as you shovel the next bite of rice between your lips. Neon colors make the shadows across your face feel alive and electric. It makes the glow in your eyes more prominent, encouraged by the childish nature of the media. You’ve just finished a snarky personal comment and given yourself another bite of rice when he appears to you.

He looks like Barry. The only difference is that he’s the complete opposite.

Instead of scarlet, his speed suit is yellow with red and dark grey accents. They remind you of blood lightning at the seams. Even under his half mask, he seems so familiar but so much more defined than your friend. As he exits the slice of colorful air and thunder, the heels of his shoes skidding across the floor, the red glow in his eyes settles into a calmer thrum.

And you’re still frozen in place, eyes wide as you still yourself mid chew.

The yellow speedster settles his orbs on you. They’re intelligent, and in the reflection of the little light in the room you can see they’re not red, but blue. And you? You’re just a deer in the headlights.

“Aw, you’re not Barry,” he groans in disappointment, standing straighter as his arms cross over his chest.

You finally continue your chewing, keeping your wide eyes on the intruder. Then you swallow it down. In your chest, your heart thump, thump, thumps with something. Fear? Not quite. Anxiety? Almost. It’s something else. Something more... intuitive. And the way this man looks at you makes you think that he can hear it, even from where he stands. That he knows.

“Uh... no?”

The man responds not a millisecond after you’ve gotten the words out. “Where is he? Where’s Barry Allen?”

Woof. His voice is throaty and laced with sarcasm, even though he’s clearly deathly serious. But the vibrations send a funny spasm straight to that little place between your legs, making the nerves in your spine dance with alertness. Arousal. Barry was never able to do that, let alone with just the sound of his voice.

“Doing something?” you decide. “I don’t know.”

The golden man cocks his head to the side, almost smirks, and takes a step forward. “Hey, I know you.” His arms uncross. One raises and bends to point at you. “You’re Barry’s tech support. I remember reading about you in his museum.”

Your brows furrow. Hurriedly, you clear the take-out box from your lap and begin wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You drop your legs from their position on the desk to their normal position on the floor, knees bent. “Uh... I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah... Y/N L/N. Now I see it.” The man leans back on his heels and looks around the room. The red glow in his orbs burn away completely so it’s just him. “Ah, so this must be before you defected, huh? Interesting.”

“Pardon?!” you call again. Now you’re sitting forward, disbelief across your face.

Golden speedster smiles. It looks evilly distorted, even though it’s just a normal smile. It curves his face sarcastically. His hands fly upwards as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Y/N. You know actually, you’re kind of a villain in my time. This is nice for me.”

“Great, I’ll tell Barry when I see him,” you bite.

“Thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you tell me where Barry is before I erase you from existence.”

“I don’t know,” you repeat as the quick bolt of fear fizzles from your system. Your eyes trail down to his chest for just a quick second, but it’s quick enough to observe yet another difference between your familiar scarlet speedster and him. The circle surrounding the lightning bolt on his chest is facing the opposite direction, red, and that circle is filled with black. It’s as if he were the complete opposite of Barry. A reverse Barry.

“Yeah you do. Come on.”

You blink once, still in your roll-y chair.

You’re not sure what to do here. On one hand, this guy radiates pure evil. You should really alert Barry or one of the other members of Team Flash. But for one reason or another you’ve made no attempt to. You’ve got no clue who this dude is other than the fact that he seems more inclined to rip the fabric of time apart than anyone else. There’s no doubt in your mind he really will erase you from existence if you make one wrong move. But what’s the wrong move?

On the other hand, Team Flash has been a bunch of dickhead’s to you. Barry has been ironically slow to the whole thing. Would it be so bad if you did make a wrong move? Not for you, but for your friends? They’d all die, wouldn’t they? This yellow one would end them, and then what? Would it really be so horrible for you? You can’t imagine mourning much.

“I don’t,” you say again, slowly. “They’re in the city. I don’t know where.”

The man seems to think for a moment, cocking his head back so the light behind the glass cases catches his sharpened features. “Hmm.”

Without even blinking, now he’s in front of you. So close, you can smell him. It’s not terribly strong, it’s just masculine. But it’s also flowery, with a dash of sweat from running. And then there’s something more. Something... metallic?

Both his hands clutch the arms of the chair beside you, trapping you as you lean back reflexively. “Did you know that I killed Barry’s childhood best friend before he was born?” the man says lowly.

On instinct, you prepare yourself to say, ‘Barry doesn’t have a childhood best friend’. Then you realize why.

He continues. “Would you tell me where Barry was if you did know?”

You don’t even think about it. You’re true to your nature. “I don’t know, would I?”

Blip! You wait to burst into a cloud of nothingness. To never have been born or even get to be a ghost. But fifteen seconds later you’re still alive. And from the way Barry talks about being a Flash, fifteen seconds is a long time for someone of that caliber.

The man is back by the cases of suits now. You can see his muscles through his suit. They’re more defined than Barry’s, thank God.

“I think you would. But it’s gonna be hard to do that when you’ve got my fingers vibrating into your skull.”

“What?”

“It’s going to be hard to speak when my fingers are inside you.”

You cup a hand against your ear. “Huh?”

“I said-” The man stops. His eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest once more. “Oh, I see.” A short, dry- but genuine- laugh falls from his throat. “Very funny. Very, very funny.”

Suddenly, your eyebrows crease together in confusion. You place both palms on the arms of the chair for leverage as you push yourself into a stand, as if stirred by some great, important purpose. “Wait. Did you say you were going to stick your fingers inside me?”

“I knew you and I were the same,” he drawls. He sounds entertained. As if in his eyes, missing Barry and meeting you instead was the best outcome he could’ve hoped for.

“Can’t you just...” Your shoulders slump as you glance around. “Just kill Barry and get on with it?”

“Aw, no. This is far more interesting.”

“Fingers in my skull...?” you whisper, half to yourself. Then you look up to him with a snap. “You are so weird,” you tell Reverse Barry, emphasizing it with a low point. “So weird.”

“Want me to tell your future?”

Again with the voice and the nerves in that special place.

“I gotta say, it’s kind of disturbing,” the man smirks. “You’ll love it.”

“Weird.”

Across the base, just two hallways away, something clicks. It’s a familiar click. It’s the click of the door opening.

Quickly, you glance backwards, then lean down to pause the show on the computer. You hadn’t even realized it was still going. Once that’s done, the man is still standing in front of you. That sinister and yet innocent grin is still dancing across his face, though his steely eyes are totally locked on you.

“What, weirdo? You know where he is now. Aren’t you gonna go get him?”

“You want me to so badly, don’t you?” Reverse Barry whispers. You just give him a look.

“I’ll be back for you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

And then the speedster is gone. Right on time, too, cause Barry jogs into the room not a second later.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you turn around.

“Did I just... see someone here?” Barry points towards your end of the room in his scarlet suit. Huh. Reverse Barry was taller too.

“What are you on about?” you throw casually. “Nobody’s been here but me since you left.”

“Are you sure?” the Flash keeps pushing. You hate it. Pushing.

“Yes, Barry,” you roll your eyes. “I’m sure. Oh, by the way, Barry. Did you have a childhood best friend?”

Barry frowns. “No, why?”

You smile to yourself as you turn back away from him. The other speedster’s footsteps are coming closer and closer. You can hear them echo off the walls.

“No reason,” you answer with a smirk just as one of them enters the room, probably to give you crap again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Fun fact, Reverse Flash is actually my favorite villain in DC comics. Bro is vicious in the comics. I just hate all the live action versions of him we get. Lego DC Villains Reverse Flash and Injustice 2 are the best versions. Injustice 2 is my personal preference. I’d like to do more with this but, who knows. Depends how this is received. #lol

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mischiefmanaged71 · 3 years

Text

Bad Romance - Joaquin Torres X Reader

Song: Bad Romance - (961) lady gaga - bad romance ( s l o w e d ) - YouTube

Summary: The reader is an enhanced individual with the ability to replicate other people’s abilities. A member of the Avengers, she has been working alongside Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes to investigate the Flag Smashers but the man calling himself the next Captain America poses an obstacle when he takes interest in her abilities.

Author’s Note: Hello! So this is my first time posting a fic I've written. I’ve been writing since 2018 but never had the courage to post anything so I hope you all enjoy my story. Torres has only been in ‘The Falcon and The Winter Soldier’ for like five minutes but I’m in love with him. There obviously isn’t enough fiction out there about him so I took it upon myself to write one. This is an idea I came up with in my head, aside from the plot of the show. Listen to the song for added effect. I’ve inserted timings as well :)

Pairing: Joaquin Torres X Fem!Reader

Warnings: TFATWS SPOILERS, Canon-level Violence, blood, romance

Word count: 2.5K

Darkness is all you’ve known these past hours.

It’s been almost twenty-four hours since you’ve last had contact with anyone. Sam would usually check in with you about now, but that didn’t seem a likely possibility.

Your right eye is almost swollen shut and you’re pretty confident that you have a few broken ribs from how difficult breathing is. The sound of metal creaking echoes in the empty room as you rattle your restraints.

You’ve been quite literally chained to the wall.

They weren’t taking any precautions.

Especially after witnessing the dozen agents you could take down all by yourself.

Leaning against the wall, you try to reach some semblance of comfort, laying some of your weight against the hard-rock. Your neck burns from the collar they attached when you caught you off-guard.

It was during a recon mission, you were chasing a lead about the Flag Smashers’ next meet up when they showed. Half a dozen armed men in tactical gear.

They snagged a collar on you, disabling your powers.

You didn’t anticipate this.

All you heard was a piercing noise and then you blacked out.

You couldn’t access your powers as soon as that light buzzed. Trying to summon fire warranted a little electric shock to your system. Little, meaning severe enough to take down an elephant.

Yeah, so getting out of here would be tricky.

Isn’t it always?

Five guards have remained in the room for the past two days, monitoring, watching.

For what?

You have only the slightest idea why.

The double doors which have remained close for the past two days creak open. The blue uniform is familiar to you but the face donning the outfit is not. He’s an imposter wearing a costume, a mock of the real thing. John Walker, along with his so-called ‘American squadron’, had grabbed you as a statement. Sam and Bucky certainly weren’t going to stay out of it because someone told them to. You all followed a code, to protect those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

“Hello, Y/N, it's been a while since we met last...I’m sorry for the way you were handled on the way here but it was the only way I could get to talk to you.”, he said, looking at the bruises beginning to form.

He talked nonchalantly as if this were a normal conversation. Your wrists were raw from pulling away from the cuffs, clothes covered in dirt and dried blood. He strode up to you, pulling his helmet off and placing it carefully on a metal crate.

“Now, I know Bucky and Sam had a lot to say about me, but you, you were always silent. I thought we had an understanding.”

‘An understanding?’

You refuse to look at him.

“You talk big words for someone who couldn’t begin to understand the legacy of that uniform.”

“I earned this! I put in the work. All they want is someone to look up to. To show them that justice still exists.”, he paces in front of you.

“Justice. Is it?”, your eyes narrow.

He pauses in thought, seething with internalised spite. Pacing the floor, he turns his back to you.

“Have you had time to think about my question?”

You remain silent, glaring at his mockery of Steve’s uniform.

“No? Okay. That’s fine,”, he whispered.

Walker signalled for a guard to open the doors once more and two more men entered, dragging someone along. You squint your eyes to identify the person as they dump them in front of you.

“No”, you whispered desperately, your breath caught in your throat.

You spot Joaquin’s dark hair and tan complexion, more so, the blood staining his clothes. The men dragged Joaquin next to Walker, letting him slump to the floor. From what you could see, he had been beaten pretty badly, the bruises already beginning to form on his face. His hands are cuffed behind him and he’s unable to hold his own weight.

Panic fills Torres as he notices the chains securing you to the wall. The last he heard over the coms was a struggle. He and Sam had been surveilling to get anything they could on your kidnappers.

You could only hear the rapid beating of your heart in your throat as blood rushed to your face. Your breathing quickens as you don’t quite know what will happen next.

John broke the silence,

“I’m going to ask you again.”

“Then, I'm going to count from three.”, he said, pulling a silencer out from his waistband and cocking it at Joaquin who rested on his knees.

“What are you?”

You stare at him incredulously, unresponsive.

You look down at Joaquin as he gazes up at you, helpless to move with guns trained on you. He’s telling you to stop, to lie, to do anything but give yourself up.

“What answer do you want?”, you asked, using all your strength to lift your head up.

“You want me to say I’m a freak? A mutant? An experiment? What good does that do you? Everyone knows it.”, you huff, sharpening your glare.

He stares down at Joaquin and kicks his foot out against the ground, clicking his tongue. Walker threw his foot into Joaquin’s back, pushing him into the floor.

“Not that.”

You watch as he points the gun harder.

“Tell me. What. You. Are.”, he grits out.

You clench your jaw hard, shutting your eyes tightly. A burning sensation fights in your chest, spreading to your arms. You suck in a breath desperately, a whimper tearing from your throat as your head drops.

The click of the safety echoes loudly.

(1:26s of the song)

Your eyes shoot open, blazing red and as the chains snap free from the wall. The metal clangs loudly against the floor, triggering the five weapons now pointed at your chest. A surge of fire ignites as you swipe your leg, knocking the agents back. The two standing closest raise their guns as you tilt your head and launch a blast of fire from your hand. The next agent replaces him, firing his gun consecutively, but you strut towards him, swiping them away with blasts omitting from your hands. You send a roundhouse kick with a wall of fire, propelling him through the exit. The remaining three encircle you with their weapons, clicking the safety off.

Your hands burn, glowing red with the heightening energy,

“Okay, you got me.”

You raise your hands in surrender as one of them steps towards. Faltering a step, you inhale deeply as he grabs your arm. Once he sets a hand on you, you exhale, breathing out a stream of fire. You twirl in a circle, the fire pushing them back and blocking their sight of you as they flinch from the heat. Dropping to the floor, you strike the cement and crack the surface. The building’s structure shakes as a cloud of energy dissipates from the contact, incapacitating the last of the soldiers.

Walker fixes his gun on Joaquin but you focus your glare on him. You wait as he stares at you, knowing he has the advantage.

"I'd stop right now, if I were you."

You silently stare at him with blazing fire burning in your orbs. The clicking of the safety reverberates in your mind as all movement stops. The muzzle of the gun is inches away from Joaquin's head.

“Alright, you’ve had your show now.”

You've got mere seconds to make a decision here.

He remains still, as Joaquin’s eyes meet yours and you nod your head slightly.

It’ll be okay because you’d never let anything happen to each other.

"Walker, you've made your point. Look, it's me you really want, not Torres.", You snipped, grabbing his attention.

Joaquin’s heart raced faster,

What were you doing?

You could see the gears turning in Walker’s head, his eyebrows perk up.

"C'mon, this whole thing was to get to me, right? To weaponize me. It's my power. So take it. Just let him go."

Walker pauses in thought,

"I don't think I will."

You knew that'd be his answer but he was too busy looking at you to notice anything else. Joaquin threw his leg out, kicking Walker’s shin to knock him off his centre.

Moving quickly, you roundhouse, knocking the gun from his hand and driving your foot into his knee. He lets out a pained yell, ducking your elbow jab and rolling behind you. You roll forwards, swooping your flames across the floor to knock Walker on his back. He rolls to the side, standing again to flick open a compact switch from his pocket. He struggles for a moment as you strut over, but he presses the button down with conviction.

You falter in your steps as a loud piercing sound breaches your cranium and hearing. It’s overwhelming, threatening to shatter your skull. A whimper falls from your mouth as both hands grasp your head. You can faintly hear Joaquin yelling your name from behind. The pain is unbearable. Joaquin bangs the cuffs on a metal crate behind him, forcing them to break.

Your vision blurs as you clumsily move towards Walker. Once you’re close enough to him, you throw an uncoordinated right hook but he catches it and returns with a kick to your chest, knocking you to the floor. The pain continues, eliciting a moan from you as it grows worse with each second. Joaquin watches as you scream in agony, sprinting towards Walker and tackling him to the floor. Walker loses the switch from his hand, punching Joaquin in the jaw to get him off. Joaquin hisses as his head hits the floor, but he’s quickly grappling for the switch before Walker can get his hands on it. Scanning the floor, he sights it inches away from where you’re curled up in a ball. He’s crawling over to make it but a grip on his shoulder halts him, flipping him over and punching him repeatedly.

Over the intense clanging, you see black dots form in your sight as you want to pass out. You hear grunts nearby and the sound of a fist making contact with skin. You flicker your eyes upward to see Walker’s figure looming over someone.

‘Joaquin...where’s Joaquin?’

You close your eyes and force yourself up, struggling to gain your bearings. Upon opening your eyes, you notice something within your reach. Crawling forward, your fingers barely touch it. You try again and again before you feel the metal beneath your fingertips. Finally, you have it in your hands and crush it. The metal crunches and the ringing ceases. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you push yourself off the floor.

More coherent now, you angrily send a blast of energy to knock Walker off of Joaquin. Scrambling off the floor, he brings his fists in front of him, but you've already there, standing in front of him.

"I’m going to count from three.”, you said.

Striking a wave in his direction, you blast fire into his chest, your eyes imbuing fluttering embers.

‘Three’

You continue your onslaught, attacking him with multiple blows of rage.

Your figure looms over Walker, blocking Joaquin from his sight.

‘Two’

Your hands emit a fiery glow as you project flames, igniting a huge blast which sends Walker crashing through the window and down below.

‘One’

Gazing down the terrace, you saw Walker’s unconscious body laying on the crushed roof of a car. The authorities would show up eventually.

Looking back inside, you finally start to feel the adrenaline rush declining. You move away from the window to find Torres leaning against a crate. Joaquin's face is bruised and cut-up as he holds his side with a grimace.

"Joaquin, are you okay?!",

You rush over to hold his other arm, scanning him for serious injuries.

He stops your moving hands to grip them,

"(Y/N), I'm okay, I'm okay. It's you I'm worried about. You almost died. How did you do that?", Joaquin asked, concern lingering in his eyes at the magnitude of your powers.

"I-I don't know. I guess my powers have always been linked to my emotions and then you were in danger. It was kind of instinctive, you know?"

"I could never let anything happen to you. Never.", She whispered silently, not noticing if he had caught it.

Joaquin moved to grasp her chin in his hand, pulling her head up so he could look into her eyes.

"You saved me."

You glanced over his face and the clear pain he was hiding from his injuries.

"You have no idea how glad I am that you're okay. I-I was afraid...It shouldn't have been you.", You said to Joaquin, tears glinting in your sight.

"I'm not going anywhere. The last thing I want to do is hurt you.", he said, moving closer as your eyes meet his deep and endearing gaze.

"We should call Sam.", You suggested.

"I'll call him later."

Yours eyes met as he leaned his forehead on yours. You inhaled deeply as he gripped your hands tightly as if you would fall out of his grasp. Joaquin's arms encircle your waist and pull you in his embrace. Your arms rest around his neck, nestling your head against his shoulder.

You hold each other tightly in a moment of calm, seeking comfort from that person. The one person you would always seek out.

You pull away, but his arms remain around your waist.

"You're so beautiful.", He whispers.

Your breathing shudders for a second before you decide to go for it,

"I-I love you, Joaquin."

You gauge his reaction as his eyes widen slightly. He leans in and guides his lips to yours. He kissed you slowly and passionately, his hands still gripping your waist. You sigh and stand on your tip-toes, tugging the hairs on the back of Joaquin's neck to bring him closer. You both pause, gasping for air for a moment. Kisses linger in between breaths as you both wind down from the intense 24 hours you've had, emotionally and physically.

"For the record, I love you too.", He grins, laughing at your eye roll.

"I didn't quite catch that, why don't you show me again?", You winked, biting your lip as his arms swooped around you again and tugged you closer.

Barely brushing your lips, he looks between your eyes and then your lips.

"I think we can arrange that."

Your breath catches as your lips brush his. You smiled, closing your eyes, as does Joaquin. You swayed in his arms as his lips encased yours once more.

Suddenly, red and blue flashing lights breach your vision from below. Sirens surrounded you both. You separated, glancing outside the broken window.

Police cars surrounded the building. Reinforcements had arrived. His hand still grips yours and you motion to help him take some of his weight, wrapping an arm around his waist.

"We should get of here.", You pushed open the door to exit down a flight of stairs.

"Yeah.", Joaquin replied, grinning down at you as you walked out together.

Reblog, like, comment if you liked it and any thoughts xx

#joaquintorres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres oneshot #joaquin torres x femreader #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres #TFATWS #TFATWS X reader #TFATWS Imagine #MCU x reader #MCU X yn #MARVEL X reader #Marvel oneshot #marvel x y/n #mcu x y/n

484 notes · View notes

yuedama · 3 years

Note

OMGOMG ok so can you do a jealous yelena x reader smut IM SO THIRSTY FOR HER RN

content : nsfw ; vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, petnames

notes : ohoho gotchu anon ;) 'm sorry if it took a while but i hope u enjoy !!

a harsh grip on your chin forced your eyes to stare into pools of grey, the intensity beneath them making you writhe in your place. it all had happened so suddenly— you had been making your way towards the mess hall for dinner when an arm yanked you into a dimly lit room. you had initially panicked, but after seeing who had pulled you into the dark and confined space, you immediately let your guard down.

which, in your part, was a big mistake.

just as you looked up to invite the blonde for dinner, you were met with a glowering yelena, no trace of tenderness in their face as she pushed you against the wall. you reached out your hand to cup her cheeks, but it was quickly smacked away.

“yelena?” your voice was soft as you stared at her in concern, though there was a stinging in your hand from the impact of her slap.

she made no response, only choosing to growl at you before coming down to bite the skin between your neck and collarbone. you whimpered at the attack, face contorting to that of pleasure and pain, hands coming up to her shoulders to push her away.

“hey, 'lena, what's wrong?”

“oh, you tell me what's wrong. why were you getting all friendly with that blond?” hot breath tickled your lips as they maintained intense eye contact with you, lengthy fingers finding purchase on the base of your neck to push you further against the wall. “what was his name again?”

“i-i don't know who you're talki—”

“nice try, doll, but that's not going to work.”

you made a confused hum which eventually turned to a string of mewls as yelena nipped at your flesh, adamant at leaving marks on your skin. they relished in the way you would sigh and pant as they sank their teeth into you, the feeling of your warm body rutting against theirs absolutely euphoric.

“you know who i'm talking about, that blond kid with the undercut.” yelena's eyes bore deeply into yours as she leaned back, one hand cradling your face while the other was gripping your thigh. “you seemed so comfortable around him, leaning against his shoulder as you laughed at whatever pathetic joke he made.”

“you've got it wrong!” you cried, voice shaky for you were out of breath, fingers clutching her dress shirt tightly to ground yourself.

“wrong?” yelena feigned innocence, having the audacity to look hurt as a hand coming to resting on their chest. “you mean to tell me i didn't catch you all over that kid a while ago?”

she leaned in to whisper against your ear, lips tracing the lobe just enough to make you feel hotter. “are you accusing me of seeing things, doll?”

“'lena, let me explain,” a desperate look was written on your face; though you were a little nervous, you also couldn't resist the ticklish curiosity eating at you for what yelena might do to you. all the ways she would touch you, run her fingers on your body as she claimed you were hers. it made you drool at the thought.

“what's there to explain?” the blonde's nails dug into your hips, her head leaning down to tug your bottom lip harshly as she spoke against it. “i saw everything.”

you could only whimper against their lips, eyes closing as you let her have her way with you. before you knew it, your bottoms were in a pool at your ankles, your dripping essences on display for the tall woman.

“you actually got fucking wet from that? how low of you, darling,” yelena chuckled, a dark glint overtaking their expression as her fingers rolled your erect clit. your legs buckled, and if you weren't holding onto her to brace yourself, you were certain you would have collapsed to the floor.

“l-lena a-ah!” the pinching of your bundle of nerves coupled with the biting of your neck quickly riled you up. yelena was ruthless, showing no mercy as she toyed with your clit and marked your neck, choosing places where she knew people could see.

“that's right, call out my name,” she forced you to keep your eyes on her, lips twisting to a sadistic grin as she watched the way she made you crumble; pleasured you like no else did, no one else could. a digit entered your sopping hole, prodding right at your sweet, spongy spot.

black dots clouded your vision as you tried your hardest to train your eyes on the blonde before you, chest heaving up and down as you greedily sucked in air, tongue lolling at the tip of your mouth. she sped up the jerking of her wrist as she added a second finger, thumb pressing down on your clit hard.

broken moans echoed in the room, your mind unable to focus on anything but the way yelena devoured you with her gaze while thrusting in and out of your cunt.

“l-lena n-ngh!”

the sense of pride that bubbled in yelena's chest was incomparable to anything as she listened to you practically scream her name while she made you crumble beneath her.

“who owns you?”

“you...” tears pricked your waterline as you forced your voice out your dry throat, hands pathetically clinging onto the blonde's forearms for dear life.

“louder, darling.” her pace quickened, steel eyes widening in adoration as she watched the way you took in her fingers, drool trickling down the sides of your mouth.

“i'm yours, yelena, all yours!” her lips twitched upwards, a satisfied sigh being drawn from it as she kissed the salty tears away from the corner of your eyes.

“and who's fucking you this good right now?”

“y-you, yelena!” you were going insane from the brutal, inhumane speed she had set, eyes shutting close as the pleasure became too much to handle.

“you think that armin can do you as good as i can?”

“n-no, 'lena.”

“good pet,” the fondness in her husky voice was unmistakable, though it grew in contrast with the way she continuously, ravenously, grazed your slick walls with her rough fingertips. you could only clench your eyelids harder til you started seeing colors, whole body spasming as you were drawn nearer to your high.

“want me to call him and show him just how much of a mess you are for me?”

a gasp left your lips as your eyes snapped open to look at the blonde's face in confusion, searching for any signs of humor in them, though she looked dead serious. “please d-don't. i belong to you, 'lena, only you!”

“you plead me not to, yet the way your walls gripped my fingers say otherwise,” a frown graced her features as she stopped her ministrations, robbing you of the high you were chasing.

“'lena, why'd you stop?” it was so frustrating, feeling the telltale signs of a coming orgasm only to have that sweet moment ripped away from you.

“you'd have to reflect on your actions before you even think of getting to cum.” yelena growled, stepping back to straighten her clothes and make herself presentable.

with that, she walked out and disappeared to god knows where, leaving you sensitive and insatiable, an uncomfortable wet patch in your underwear as you made your way towards the mess hall once more. it had become apparent that luck wasn't on your side, for the only empty seat in the room was beside the blond who was the main reason for yelena's outburst.

#snk smut #yelena aot #yelena x reader #yelena smut #aot smut #yelena brainrot #yelena x reader smut #snk.%!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Little Bones 3

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness.

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: Another random update of a series for y’all as I toil away at drabbles in between!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

Your skin crawled as you walked to work the next morning. The memories of the night before made you cringe and tuck your chin down as you kept your eyes ahead of you. You feared if you looked around, you might summon the incessant biker from his hole.

The library was as empty as any other day and you claimed your seat at the curved desk. You booted up and sipped from your thermos, the coffee bitter on your tongue as you watched Melissa appear from the non-fiction section. She sat in her own chair and yawned as she signed on.

The monotony of Birch was sobering after the night in the dank bar. The bikers and their own little world, a microcosm of the worst types all in one place. You went about your usual tasks, there were a few returns on the cart to put back on the shelves and you walked the shelves and checked for out of order codes.

The hours slaked by like the peaks of a mountain against ancient gales. The stale lights made the days stretch to tedium and the grey without added to the sense of listlessness. Colin’s low snores escaped the back room and Melissa sorted through bent paperbacks in a far aisle to put out for the Sunday penny sale.

As the windows darkened, Colin gave his usual grumbled farewell and further mussed his wavy hair as he tried to smooth it out. It didn’t matter much as he covered it with the old faded Leafs toque and left through the automatic doors. His shadow was soon followed by Melissa as she looked forward to seeing her daughter and watching some new program on the local channel.

You were the last as you walked the aisles before final lock-up. The automatic doors were off as you checked for unlikely stragglers. You came back to the round desk and flipped off the lights for all but the entry way and the back office. You pushed open the door and locked the outside ones with a jangle of keys. As you turned back, you gripped the big key to the back door and shook your head.

You stepped through the space between the inner doors and stared at the man behind your desk. He sat in your chair, your purse sat before him on the counter as he shoved a large hand inside. You crossed your arms and watched Thor as he pulled out your coral coloured wallet and unsnapped it.

“What are you doing?” You asked harshly. “How did you get in here?”

He snickered and pulled out a card and lifted it up to look at it closely. He leaned back and flicked it with his thumb. “I knew you were a city girl.” He said.

“Get out. We’re closed.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I’m a busy man.” He slid the card back in place and searched the rest, uninterested by the few bills inside the fold and your various reward cards and outdated alumni ID.

“Late? You don’t seem the reading type. We don’t have that many audiobooks.” You neared and grabbed the other handle of your purse. “There’s an app for that now.”

Again, he laughed and dropped your wallet into the depths of your purse. He released it and pushed his shoulders back as you dragged the bag off the desk. He tilted his head and held up your phone in its shiny lavender case. He smirked as the screen lit up and he swiped it open. You never should have added the library as a trusted location.

“Hmm,” he turned it to face him and scrolled with his thumb, “I think you’re missing a number in here.”

“Give it.” You reached for the phone and he held it away from you like some annoying teenager. “Hey… Thor! Give me it. It’s mine!”

His blonde lashes flashed and he looked at you with delight. “Oooh, I love it when you say my name.”

“Stop. You can’t be in here and you certainly can’t--”

You swiped for the phone again and he caught your arm. He yanked you so hard you almost left the floor and you dropped your purse and keys. He held you over the counter as he twisted your wrist just a little.

“And who exactly is going to make me leave?”

He kept his thick fingers locked around your wrist as he searched your phone. You struggled with him but it only sent a violent jolt up to your elbow.

“I can do whatever I want and you can’t do anything to stop me. In fact, there’s no one in this town who can.” His jaw clenched and he locked your phone. “Well, kitten, I’m going to hold onto this.” He let go of you and stood as you retracted your arm and rubbed your sore wrist. “And when you want to be a good girl for me, you can come find me and ask for it nicely.”

“Ask? You’re crazy. It’s mine. You’re--” you sputtered.

You swallowed as his hand balled to a fist and his brow twitched. It was the first hint of anything but amusement. It was much more troubling, a slight tell. He was angry.

“I’ve been nice, kitten. I like you and your claws but don’t scratch too deep.” He warned as he backed away. “I’ll see my way out unless of course… you would take me up on my offer from last night.”

“Go. Keep the fucking phone.” You snarled and reached for your purse and the keys.

You stood and watched as he ran his tongue just below his teeth and turned away. He snaked his way through the back office and you heard the heavy metal door whine in his stead. You locked the inner doors and grabbed your jacket from the rack.

You went to the same door and hit the lights. You activated the security system and stepped out with a cautious look around the vacant parking lot. You locked the door and headed around the side of the brick building and out into the glow of the streetlights.

You could get a new phone, that was nothing, just a chunk out of your check. He could search your contacts, your apps, your phones, he’d find nothing but the pathetic life of a thirtysomething wash out. That wasn’t what worried you.

He was watching you. He had to be. He knew when you were alone and he knew how to get in. You might not see him but you were certain he could see you. You shivered and pulled your hate over your head and puffed out a cloud.

💀

You went home angry but slightly addled from the encounter. You watched over your shoulder the entire way home and locked your door with the tarnished chain. You found it hard to settle as you debated marching over to the bar and demanding your phone back and opening the wine you hadn’t touched since your impulsive purchase. You really hated Thor but you knew you could push him much further before he did something much worse.

You ignored your wrath and ate your dinner in front of the television before hiding under your covers and watching the snowfall until you fell asleep. Every night was as dull as the one before and the morning always came too quickly.

You woke and readied for your day with a cup of home-brewed Colombian roast and packed your lunch. You searched for your phone for two seconds before you remembered where it was. Your neck prickled as you thought of Thor with access to all your information and the barren social media accounts.

The snow was even deeper that day and you fought through the thick carpet. The library felt twice as far by the time you reached it and you were panting as you entered and shook off the powder. You took your usual spot at the usual time with your usual thermos and usual disillusion.

You whiled away the hours without the distraction of your phone. You realised how easily this man could torture you and not even be in the same place as you. You went searching in the aisles for something to do and scraped the gum off the bottom of the tables. A disgusting task but work nonetheless.

When the end of the day came, you were all too happy to go home and hide under your duvet with a tea and a sitcom. You hated this. You would go to the city and get a new phone if you had too. God, how much would that cost?

💀

The days slogged by and on your first free day, you were too tired to make the drive out of town. You resigned to your procrastination, instead taking a short walk down the main street to Babs’. Your usual order, but cinnamon instead of caramel in your latte, and a scone to enjoy at home.

The snow remained as thick as days before. You looked out the bakery window in dread as you awaited your order at the end of the counter. You still caught yourself reaching for your phone. If you waited too long, you might not even be able to make it into the city. Well, you could always order something online.

The door chimed as Steve’s girl came to the other side of the counter and placed your latte out for you. She smiled and you thanked her but her eyes rounded as you heard boots come close. You turned, barely surprised by the man who was better described as your shadow those days.

Since his visit to the library, Thor had made himself known in several instances, every day as you walked home he was outside the asp, watching. Other times, he’d be waiting by the steps of the library, mocking you silent as he pulled out your phone. You had too much pride to ask for it back and you knew that it would take more than asking.

You tried to sidestep him and he blocked your path. The foam pushed out through the hole in the plastic lid and you sighed.

“What do you want?” you hissed.

“I should ask you. I don’t know many girls these days can go days without their lifeline,” he taunted, “You know, it’s dangerous how much of ourselves we keep on these little things.”

He patted his jacket where he no doubt had your phone hidden. You looked down at your latte and thought of popping the lid off and tossing it at him. That wouldn’t be any good. You shrugged and looked past him.

“I gotta go--”

“Is there anything I can get you, Thor?” Steve’s girl eked out as if her voice could barely fit through her windpipe.

“I’ve come for something sweet but I think I found it,” he smirked, his eyes stuck to you.

“Give it up,” you scoffed and elbowed past him. He chuckled and followed you to the door as you sped up, your treads squeaking on the salt-stained floor.

“On you? Never,” he purred as you pulled the door open and he caught it behind you.

“You can break the phone for all I care,” you snarled, “just leave me alone.”

He kept up with you as flakes gathered on your scarf and you peered down the street and ran across. His boots crunched in time with yours as he lingered in your peripheral. You spun as you came to a stop on the other side and scowled.

“Jesus, I thought dogs were supposed to be obedient,” you snapped.

“I can be,” he winked and reached to brush the snow from the hair poking out from under your cap, “I’ll gladly get to my knees for you, kitten.”

You snapped at his hand and he pulled away with a surprised laugh. You gritted your teeth and took a step back.

“I won’t tell you again and I’m getting real tired of this.”

“You keep forgetting who you’re meowing at, kitten,” he stepped closer and you backed away again.

You turned and flitted away from him. You had not planned for him in your day off and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. You wanted to go home and enjoy your coffee, alone. However, that meant leading him to your front door. You stopped again.

“Go,” you pointed across the street at the Asp, the town’s marquee.

“Oh, kitten, you’re so cute,” he tugged on your scarf and you swatted him away.

“Alright, that’s it!” you smashed your cup against his chest and the hot liquid steamed as it splashed across his front and dripped down his leather jacket.

He held out his arms as he looked down at himself and slowly back to you. His blue eyes dilated as the ends of his golden hair sopped with caffeine. It was too late to apologize, too futile. You sputtered and quickly turned away.

You were thankful when you didn’t hear him behind you. You stopped and peaked back at the corner of the next side street. He watched you still and even at a distance you could see his rage.

If you hoped he’d lose interest, that optimism was dead.

💀

A snow storm stagnated the already stale town and you could guess that the highway was even worse. You could replace your sim online but that would take at least a week to arrive and with the weather, likely longer. It might be quicker to wait out the blizzard. You stayed in limbo, reluctant to pull the trigger.

You kept to your apartment for the rest of the weekend, with no reason or want to leave. On your way, you didn’t see him. You sighted a few figures through the falling powder but they were faces familiar to the streets. You kept an eye over your shoulder, glancing around every few steps.

You avoided the cafe. He might look for you there, he might even be waiting for you. You sat down at your desk but felt out of place. He could walk through those doors like he had only days before. He could taunt you and tease you. What made you so antsy was that he could do worse than that. You knew it but you’d let your temper get the best of you. A wasted latte might have cost you everything.

By the end of your shift, it was decided. You were leaving Birch. No one could know until you were gone. Not Melissa, not Colin, no one. You old all-weathers would have to get you down the highway, just to the city so you could lose yourself there until you had a real plan. Even as the snow piled higher and higher, there could be no delay. You’d waited long enough.

Paranoid, you were certain you’d be met again on your path home. The town was dead as the soft blanket covered the ground. The flakes turned to mounds and the tops of your boots let in errant clumps of snow. The store may as well been closed for the day, the library had been little different but its lethargy was expected. Even The Asp seemed to have dulled with the pale gusts.

You packed a bag. One. The apartment came furnished and you never cared much for miscellany. Anything you left behind was replaceable. You went down the back stairs and cleaned off your small Focus. Used but reliable. You were out of breath as you climbed into the driver’s seat and threw the brush in the back.

You drove carefully down the side streets, snaking around as you knew the main fair would give away your escape. You stopped at the sign that pointed to the highway ramp and wondered.

What if he had got the clue? What if you were running from nothing?

You remember the look in his eye and shivered. No, that glimmer assured you that return to your mother’s was as wise as it would be torturous. You followed the arrow and took the curve steadily with your foot planted on the gas. The traffic was slow and cautious as headlights were barely visible through the snowfall.

You gripped the wheel tightly and let out a breath. You would be gone before he knew. You’d get a new phone, a new job, a new life. Even if it was just pay-as-go, a McDonald’s visor, and your mother’s couch for a while. What good was a job in a place like Birch anyway? Just as good as your irrelevant degree.

You were startled and nearly lost control as a set of lights appeared behind you in the next lane. They were dangerously close to dinging your rear bumper as the reckless driver took a u-turn right before the upcoming barriers. You wrinkled your brow as you glared at them through the white haze. What kind of maniac was pulling shit like that in this weather?

And then, they did hit you. A nudge but enough to send you veering in the thick lines of snow. You clutched the wheel and tried to steer into it, tried to right yourself as you were knocked again. Your heart was in your throat as the engine revved and you hit your brakes, not knowing what else to do as a third collision came.

You spun out and hit the cement wall along the far lane, narrowly missing another car as it pulled ahead. You stilled, your seatbelt saving your face from a smack against the wheel, and stared down the highway as you stared at oncoming traffic. You were completely turned around on the arm.

You caught your breath and reached for your purse. Fuck, you had no phone. What was that asshole thinking? It didn’t seem like an accident.

The car that had bullied you into a crash pulled up along the barrier. You watched in the rear view as the barely visible tail lights glowed and a dark figure appeared between the car and the concrete. You squinted as the man neared, a long coat flapped around his tall figure as he held his hand to his face.

He came up beside your car as you heard his voice muffled through the glass and tapped on your window. He bent and knocked again as you shot him the finger. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind. You rolled down the window with the manual crank and growled, “what the fuck!?”

“Can I have your name, darling?” he asked in a sinisterly familiar accent.

“Screw you! You almost killed me!”

He turned his phone out as you screeched at him and quickly put it back to his ear, “that sound like her?”

A deep voice rumbled in the speaker and the dark-hair man nodded as he shielded his face from the blowing snow, “you owe me, brother.”

“Who the fuck are you?” you spat and reached to your glovebox. You grabbed the heavy flashlight and swung it at him, “get away--”

He caught with a leather-gloved hand and glared back at you. He tucked away the phone in his jacket. His nostrils flared and his green irises caught fire.

“Let’s not do this, darling,” he warned, “my brother has given me clearance to use whatever force necessary…” he pushed the button and pulled open your door as he wrenched away the metal flashlight, “and while he seems the bigger brute, I assure you his cruelty cannot match mine.”

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wheresmybuckyhoes · 3 years

Text

Game Night

Summary: Bucky and you are basically enemies. That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. What else would it be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, unprotected sex (do not do this irl), smut, slight angst

I really love a good enemies to lovers at the moment and wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think. As always, enjoy! xx

‘How about truth or dare?’ Wanda suggested innocently, earning her a series of exasperated groans. You threw your head back in playful annoyance, a drawn out ‘Wandaaa’ leaving your vodka - tasting lips. ‘I meant more like monopoly, or something a group of horny teenagers wouldn’t play’ Tony sighed, throwing back the last of his whiskey, followed immediately by ‘Steve it would mean so much to me if you would get me another bottle of this’.

Meanwhile, you noticed the one and only piece of shit Bucky narrow his icy blue eyes at you from across the table you were all crowded around. You mimicked his expression before turning towards Wanda as you rolled your eyes. You could practically feel his eyes delving deep holes through your back. ‘I say we play. I’ve had at least...’ at this point you held up your hands in front of your face as you counted on your fingers like a dumb child, Wanda raising her eyebrow. ‘...like at least, enough shots to be drunk so I won’t remember this anyway’ you shrugged as you reached for the bottle of vodka only for Sam to pull it just out of your reach. ‘Sam...’ you tried to bargain but Tony’s loud voice cut you off as he spoke, cradling his 4th glass of whiskey delivered so gracefully unto him by a frowning Steve.

‘As the leader of this group of fucks, I decree that I go first. Capsicle, truth or dare’ he asked pointedly, gesturing to Steve with his glass. ‘You guys are so immature...truth, if I must’ he replied gloomily, taking a tender sip of his orange juice. ‘Are you a virgin?’ he simply asked, earning an uncontrollable giggle from you and Wanda. Before Steve even opened his mouth, Tony added quickly with a smirk ‘a virgin is someone who has never fucked anyone, by the way. Oh, and fucking is what you want to do to y/n. I know you don’t always know all the current lingo, old man, but...’ Steve answered quickly before Tony could continue embarrassing him, and you choked on the wine that had magically appeared in your hand. ‘No, Tony. I’m not, and I’m going to bed’. Steve got up and straightened his shirt, placing his glass gently on an Avengers branded coaster, heading out for the night to his floor of the compound. You didn’t notice the slight frown which flickered over Bucky’s face as you kissed Steve on the cheek as you said goodnight. But you also didn’t notice Tony and Sam fighting over the last bottle of whiskey, so who can blame you.

You played a few more rounds of truth or dare as the night grew dark and the others grew tired. After the first few rounds Sam and Tony got up and left, soon followed by Wanda who was drunk beyond words. You hugged her affectionately before helping her to the elevator and going back to sit down. You forgot Bucky was there.

You groaned dramatically as Bucky smirked at you, collapsing dizzily onto the leather couch and tipping the last bit of vodka you had retrieved from Sam’s grasp down your throat. ‘Fuck off, Barnes’ you seethed. ‘Don’t you have some people to kill?’. He chuckled to himself, pushing himself up from the floor to stand up and cross his arms. ‘Don’t you have some validation to seek from literally everyone?’ he taunted, staring your right in the eyes. You looked down. The bitch knew very well you only wanted validation because when you were trained in an abusive institute not so different from hydra, the only thing that kept you alive was their validation, and he knew that he could get under your skin with ease. But you refused to show it. You looked up and found his opal eyes again.

‘It was my turn, wasn’t it? Truth or dare, asshole?’ you asked, chucking the empty bottle of vodka at him. He caught it swiftly with his vibranium arm, walking over to you and leaning down to place the bottle beside you on the couch, face inches away from you. ‘Dare’ he whispered, leaning back and moving to stand in front of you. He smelt like burnt marshmallows, fiery whiskey and rain. You mentally slapped yourself and reminded your brain how much you hated him.

‘I dare you to stop being such a little bitch’ you stood up, staring up at him with flames in your eyes. ‘Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat all the fucking time, I wouldn’t have to be’ he mocked, tilting his head to await your reaction. The sheer amount of hate your felt for him at this moment, together with the large quantities of alcohol running through your veins, gave you a dangerous confidence boost. ‘Maybe if you weren’t a little pussy who lost his arm and sanity to some weird scientists because he fell off a train, knew how to fuck let alone talk to girls and didn’t make every single person who he meets want to run away and scream, I wouldn’t act like a brat all the fucking time’. Well shit.

You were breathing raggedly, chest rising rapidly up and down, hands balled up in two tight fists by your side. Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, a flicker off hurt passing over his handsome features. He shook his head and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have said that, y/n’. ‘What do you mEEEAAN’ you yelped as he moved to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as if you were weightless. You kicked him in the chest, hard. ‘Put me down right the fuck now Bucky before I...’ he reached his room and threw you down on his bed, shutting the door behind him. ‘Before you what, hm? Because let me tell you something, darling. I think you don’t hate me. No, you just know I don’t want to sleep with you unlike Steve, Sam and Tony and it hurts. It hurts your precious little ego. But if it stops you from acting like a little bitch all the damn time, I guess I can fuck the bitch out of you’ He climbed onto the bed, as you crawled back, until your back was against the headboard and you were cage in between the wall and the super soldier in front of you. ‘Would you like that, doll?’

You gulped nervously, averting your eyes only for Bucky to grab your chin both roughly and gently at the same time and lift your head up so you were staring him in the eyes. ‘So now you go all quiet on me’ he taunted. You could hardly breath. Your mind was telling you that you hated him with all your heart, but your heart was telling you to get this man’s dick inside of you. Before you could silence the tell - tale beat of your heart, Bucky leant in and kissed you roughly. Your body relaxed into the kiss, and your hands subconsciously flew up to tangle in his chestnut locks. He was actually a really good kisser. You pulled away. You reached a hand out to unbutton his jeans, but Bucky caught your wrist. He chuckled to himself, metal hand gently wrapping around your throat. ‘So now you want me to fuck you? Thought you said I didn’t know how?’ he asked as a small whine escaped your throat, feeling your core burn in desire. You furrowed your brows and frowned at him. He squeezed at your neck. ‘Use your words, doll, or I’ll just leave you here as the pathetic mess you are’ he threatened, eyes clouding with lust and desire.

‘Holy shit Bucky, just fuck me already or fuck off’ you cried out. He didn’t need telling twice. He released your throat, using both hands to undress you in an instant before removing his own shirt and jeans. He hooked a finger in the band of your panties and slid them down your legs, over your heels and onto the floor behind him. He took a moment to gaze longingly at your naked and vulnerable body, muttering an almost inaudible ‘beautiful’. All that was left between your pussy and his dick was the boxers he was wearing. As soon as he took them off, your eyes widened, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘That’s not going to fit’ you said, a sort of breathless whisper.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You almost screamed when you felt his fingers encircle your clit, moaning into his mouth. ‘I still...fuck...hate you’ you grumbled as you felt his hard on brush against your inner thigh. He rolled his eyes as you did earlier, dipping his head slightly to kiss your neck, expertly sucking on your sweet spot, marking you up with hickies. He slowly inserted a finger, followed shortly by two. They only slightly stretched you out, and you clawed at his back as he moved them faster and faster, curling them slightly to hit your g - spot. ‘B...Bucky, I’m gonn... gonna cum’ you moaned, pulling his head eagerly as you kissed him desperately. Bucky kept up with his rapid pace, bringing you right to the edge. You felt the pleasure build up and up until you were ready to cum, and that is obviously when Bucky decided to pull his fingers away completely. ‘What the FUCK’ you screamed, sitting up in surprise, legs squeezing together from the sudden lack of friction. He covered your mouth to silence your cries, and leaned in real close. ‘If I give you the most mind blowing sex of your life, and I stop treating you like a piece of shit, will you stop acting like a bitch?’ he asked, pushing you back down onto the bed, removing his hand when he was done talking. ‘For fucks sake Barnes, yes. Fucking yes. Now please fuck me’. you whined.

‘It would be my pleasure’. He slammed into your now lubricated pussy, stretching you all the way out. It burned, but at the same time it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. Not a single man you had ever been with had been this big, but you wouldn’t want Bucky to know that.

He moaned in your ear, causing you to clench down hard, and Bucky started to thrust quickly chasing his own orgasm. He continued to circle your clit with his thumb as he slammed into you over and over and over again until he had you chanting his name like a prayer along with a generous string of obscene curses. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders to angle himself so that he was repeatedly hitting your g spot and your orgasm finally hit you like a truck. ‘oh SHit Bucky fucking christ holy fucking shit’ you gasped out as Bucky thrusted deeply into you, cumming deep inside. You felt your legs shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head in ecstacy, Bucky’s hand finding your mouth to at least try to quiten some of your moans. Although he had stilled inside of you, filling you to the brim, he continued to rub at your clit as he worked you though your orgasm. Your mind was filled with ecstasy and you could see stars. You both came down from your high eventually, Bucky collapsing in a sweaty heap beside you.

He pulled you into his body protectively, feeling his softening dick rest against your back. His arm was secured tightly around your waist, and you felt your heavy eyes shut as his warm breath on your neck comforted you. ‘Still hate me now?’ he asked, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘I’ll consider tolerating you for now. Ask me again tomorrow night’ you giggled sleepily in response. ‘Why tomorrow night?’ Bucky whispered as he also felt his own eyes close, a wave of exaughstion sweeping over his muscular body. ‘After we fuck again, of course, and again the night after that, and the night after that, and every night after that.’

#bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky x reader #marvel smut #tony stark #Steve Rogers #wanda maximoff #falc #falcon and winter solider series #white wolf

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supersizemeplz · 3 years

Text

We Meet Again

Incubus!Erik Stevens x Black PlusSized Female

Another #supersizedfic Halloween fic. I know, I know. It isn’t October yet but I wanted this to jumpstart my writings for it. I definitely want to push out more creepy/scary fics around that month. Let’s call this practice. Also, I’m calling him an incubus but I’m not sure if he fits that category fully in this. Idk. Enjoy!

Song suggestion: Algorhythm by Childish Gambino

"Come on down to Moreen's Super Savin-" The commercial was clipped short as the screen went black. It had to be the millionth time it'd came on in the past two weeks and it was becoming repetitive. The young woman sat the remote on the glass coffee table before she stood. Her adoring pet took that as her cue to hop down as well and follow her owner close.

"How about a snack, Mina? We deserve that right?" She spoke to the puppy as if she'd reply. Well she kind of did with a bark and shake of her tail. Sierra made her way to the fridge and pulled open the freezer. Only to be met with ice trays and frozen meats. Frowning a bit, she looked down to her animal companion.

"Looks like we're out, mamas." Closing the door, she made her way to the dining room table. Grabbing her keys from atop a local Moreen's Super Savings ad paper. She took a quick look in the hallway mirror and made a quick 180 to head up the stairs to her bedroom. "I guess I need something to cover up, huh."

Keys jingled in a hurried dance as she moved, sounding along with the calmed patter of the loyal four little paws. Out of the bedroom once she'd grabbed a hoodie, through the hallway, and down the stairs. Sierra slipped her braids into a bun atop her head, adjusting the silk headband that protected her edges.

Turning to the eager little bichon frise at her feet, she squatted to talk to the puppy. Mina. "Mommy will be back, ok? I'll get us some snacks from the store." She chuckled as Mina barked her reply. With a soft head rub, Mina turned away satisfied as she went back to play with her toys.

Locking the door behind her, Sierra made her way to her car. She was craving vanilla wafers and ice cream. The wind was a bit chilly as she got further from the house, picking up just a little. Fall was slowly making its way and she was amped for the holidays to start rolling in.

With a soft close of the car door, her right index finger pressed the start button to bring the car to life. The time on the radio read twenty minutes until ten o'clock which was just enough time for her to make it before the store's closing. Once she'd set the radio to a slow R&B jam, she was on her way.

A quick ten minute ride was all it took to reach the store since traffic was basically non-existent. Weird but not impossible. She pulled into the nearly empty parking lot without a second thought and turned off the car. "Out and in, two minutes." The words were a mumble as they left her lips, more so a reminder that the store would close soon and she needed not to slow poke.

"Welcome to Moreen's Super Savings." A lone cashier spoke to her as soon as she entered. She smiled with a polite greeting in reply before heading off to the frozen section. Her house shoes made little noise as she found the ice cream selection with ease. A glance to her watch showed she had eight minutes until closing. She had to hurry.

"Hi, how are you?" Her southern hospitality showed as she passed a man that occupied the aisle as well. Not really paying attention to any of his details. Her mission was ice cream, not a man. He gave a polite smile and simple reply, looking over to her once he heard her voice. From her quick glance, she could see his hands were empty though he seemed to be looking for a frozen dessert as well.

The moment between them came and went as she began her quick search once again. "Ah-ha." She spoke the small victory, grabbing the last personal sized vanilla blue bell pint. "Now to the cookies and then something for Mina." With a quick stride she went over two aisles to find the large variety of cookies.

Squatting down to look at the vanilla wafers on the bottom shelf, she saw someone standing at the end of the aisle out of her peripheral. She thought nothing of that as well until a weird feeling fell over her. And the figure was still there. Raising a brow, she looked over to where the figured stood. Or where it should've been. No one was there.

"Hmm." She gave a quick hum of confusion as she stood from her current position. With her choice of cookies in hand. Her head turned both ways to see if she was just imagining things and after seeing that no one was really there, she decided she was. A quick shoulder shrug ended the paranoid thought and she went on her way to get her last items. Coming to the end of the aisle, she stopped to look for the overhead sign to direct her to the pet aisle. Moreen's was kind of new to the town and she had only been here a total of three times, including now.

"Household, paper products, pets." She began her lengthy walk across the store, passing three aisles before she noticed that someone was mirroring her from the other end of the aisles. It could be ignored and pushed aside as a coincidence until she stopped to pretend that her sock needed adjusting. Only for the figure at the other end to stop as well. "What the hell?" She stood quickly to see who was the asshole sending her paranoia through the roof. She knew this store gave off weird vibes. Just as she looked up to see his face, the store went dark and its usual cheery pop songs went silent.

Her gasp was caught in her throat as her grip tightened on the old container of ice cream. She didn't even register the thought of it slowly attempting to escape its containment. Those big brown eyes of hers kept looking to the spot where the man had stood before the power cut.

"Shit." A short curse left her lips as the once frozen dessert made a mess of her hand. Giving one last glance to the spot, she slowly stepped backwards towards the registers before hurrying to it. Her eyes darted around the area to make sure she was still alone as she attempted to rid her hands of the sticky sweet. "There is no way they closed this damn store with me still inside. The cashier literally spoke to me when I walked in the door."

The door.

Sierra discarded the paper towel that was little help as she looked to the large glass double doors. Her exit. She almost scolded herself for getting so worked up, letting her fear of being in the dark affect her sense. Putting pep in her step, she made her way to the door with a quickness. A quick tug to the handle was supposed to ease her heart rate but it sent it soaring. Locked? Why in the hell is it locked? Oh no. She was trapped here, in the dark with her paranoia. Her back turned to press against the doors. "I just had to watch those damn scary movies today."

The dark aisles seemed to mock her as she scanned across them as quick as she could from where she stood. The light that came in from the windows of the store front could only reach so far. With a shivering hand, she fumbled to pull her phone from her pockets. "No, no, no!" She whisper yelled, holding the side buttons to try and make the screen come to life. Only to be met with the screen that told her that her phone was dead. "You were just on fifty percent. How the fuck could you be dead?"

A loud thud from her left caught her off guard, causing her to tense up and her phone to fall to the ground with a soft clap. She looked frantically to the direction of the noise as it's echo sent chills over her. "H-Hello?" Her words stuttered out as she slowly bent to pick up your phone. Maybe it's an employee? "I think you guys locked me in by accident.."

Still like a tree planted by the water, she didn't move. No one answered her call but she had an eerie feeling that she wasn't alone. "Come on, girl. You're stronger than this, remember what Dr. Hamina said.. Fears are nothing more than a state of mind. You're ok." Finally pulling her feet from the invisible glue that held them, she took a slow step forward. "There has to be an emergency door around here somewhere."

In the distance, just barely behind a faraway aisle, those four familiar red letters caught her eyes. "Exit." Hope sparked in her mind and she was happy to know there was another way out. The trick now was getting to the other side without being caught by the man that lurked in the shadows.

As if he'd known she'd thought of him, his voice surrounded her like a cloud. "Sierraaa. Don't be afraid of me, beautiful.." A sudden, single light cut on in the center of the aisles. Close enough to the back that she was directly across the supermarket from him. The soft buzz of the light could faintly be heard from where she stood. She squeezed her phone this time to cope with the fear piercing her as she took another step backwards towards the door.

"How do you know my name? W-Who are you?" She couldn't hide her fear if she wanted to. The waver of her voice gave it away and she hated that it. Because he chuckled at her. His back was to her and she could just make out him looking over his shoulder back at her. In an instant, the light cut out and it was darkness again before a different light popped on. This one was closer than the last but she still couldn't make him out fully. It was only his clothes that gave away his identity as the man that she'd spoken to on the ice cream aisle when she'd came in earlier.

"You don't remember me, sweetness?" He pretended to be offended, finally turning to reveal his face before the lights turned off. It popping back on with him closer. "All the nights we spent together during your college years, just as you were finding yourself. The nights we spent together.. in your dreams, sweetness." That name, that voice. That face.

"E-Erik?" His voice suddenly found its place in her mind. In those memories she'd locked away. "You're not real? H-How are you-? How did you-?"

She'd went through a weird patch in her early stages of youth and adulthood. Her grandmother had called it 'spirit soaring'. The gift ran through the women in her family, but she seemed to be the only one who couldn't keep her control of it. The first few times were innocent during her teen years with short trips around the home for just a minute. That soon crept up to her soul venturing around her neighborhood to see what night could bring. Snowballing into a faint obsession.

Her grandmother had warned her plenty times before of the addictions of her lucid dreaming. But she'd assured herself she could control it. Then she'd met Erik, the man of her dreams, literally. He'd resembled an actor she'd adored and that was his bait. Everything was perfect between the two until it would inch closer to her having to leave him. And he didn't like that, he wanted her company full time. He'd began to find ways to prolong her visits with him.

She began to notice that he wasn't under her control like everything else in her dreams. It honestly scared her. His demeanor changed and he became obsessed with her, finding ways to pull her under when she'd fall asleep. Passive aggressive and manipulating were his sudden traits. The last time she'd seen him ended with a scuffle. Scarring his left eye and her getting away by a hair.

"How I found you?" He spoke her thoughts, finally allowing her to see his face. That familiar scar was healed now. Making him look like a monster from some horror film. "I never lost you, sweetness. I've just waited patiently.. watching you from the shadows..." He took a step towards her, taking in the sweet scent of her fear. "Never..out of..reach."

The lights began to flicker and her adrenaline started pumping. Sierra began to rack her mind for an escape. The exit sign. It was the same escape route she'd use in her dreams long ago. Her feet started their movement before it fully registered in her mind. "Just make it to the door."

Erik's laughter filled the air around her, loud and mocking as she kept her quick pace. "You can run, but you can't hide. Escape is inevitable.." His words were chilling to hear. He really wanted her for himself.

The door seemed to be getting further away. Like she was running backwards. Tears began to gloss her eyes as she became weaker. Her legs were getting tired, but she pressed on. Just make it to the door. Still the door grew smaller with every attempt to reach it.

"Nooo!" Her knees hit the ground below her, meeting the cold tile floor. "It can't end like this.. Leave me ALONE!!" She screamed into the darkness. A last effort to fight her attacker.

The air was still once her echos silenced. Her eyes moved around as best they could in the darkness. The light above her popped on and the slow echo of footsteps in the darkness came towards her. She trembled where she sat, trying to crawl to the door as best she could.

Erik emerged from the darkness like a villain and stopped just before her. "When will you learn sweetness? Running will only tire you out.." He squatted before her, bringing a hand to her cheek to rid it of a stray tear. "Stay with me and we can spend this life together. Happily. Forever."

"This moment.." He spoke lowly, eyes glazed with lust. "I have been waiting for this moment for so long, my sweetness, to have you all to myself.." He rolled his shoulders as he hummed. "..And here we are. Alone, at last. Destined to be brought together as one."

Licking his lips, he held a smirk at the corner of his lips. "Isn't this what we once dreamed for? To be together forever?" His smile widened at her drooping eyes as they fought to stay open. "Well, I did. At least."

Her lips tried to speaks but all her energy was being drained. His voice began to sound distorted to her. She didn't want him to win this time. Have to..stay..awake. Darkness.

"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you hear me?" The voice was far off in the darkness, barely audible. Sierra fought to make out the words on her mind. Please don't let him win. Her body wouldn't listen to her in her struggle. She screamed internally at herself to wake up, wanting whoever was trying to talk to her know that she could hear them. It seemed to take forever. "There you go. Breathe."

She had shot up to a seated position, breathing heavily and looking around to see if he was still there. Her eyes held worry as she was only met with two E.M.T. and a small group of employees in the distance. The female E.M.T gave an assuring smile to ease her nerves, though it didn't help much. Though it did calm her a little to see a friendly face. "An employee found you laying in the aisle, nearly unresponsive. So we're gonna take you to the hospital and make sure everything is okay. Are you alright with that, hunny?"

All Sierra could do was nod, needing to get out of this damned store. She'd never come back here, that was for damned sure. The medical duo eased her onto a stretcher and gave her a water for her throat. Since she hadn't uttered a word since she came to. "We'll do a few check ups in the truck on the way there. You just let me know if anything feels weird suddenly or hurts. Ok..."

Tears blurred Sierra's vision as she was lifted into the ambulance, listening to the distant sounds of the medical personnel that assured that she would be just fine. Her mouth didn't open and their words didn't register as she looked forward. Not directly looking to the group of employees that watched her being taken away, but more so to what was behind them where he stood. He was relaxed as he watched her with a smirk. His words rung off in her head as she noticed him vanish behind the passing of employees heading back inside. "Alone, at last. Destined to brought together as one.." She was stuck with him forever.

#black reader #erik stevens #erik x reader #oneshot #halloween fic #supersize the spooky

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rumblelibrary · 3 years

Note

Hello, it's me again, your friendly neighborhood... Hungarian?!...👀❤️

Can I request a Sebastian Zöllner fic, where he is a coworker of Reader, and there's an obvious sexual tension, attraction in the office, they sit opposite each other, legs touching sometimes, hands touching... Idunno... Things like this 👀🔥 but nothing happened... Yet...🔥🔥

Never an Enemy [Sebastian Zöllner x Fem!Reader]

Word count: 5k

Warnings: A bad mouthed journalist with strong opinions about art and performance that might offend

Author’s note: Did I let this idea simmer in me for ages? Yes. Did I ever stopped thinking about it? NO.

You hummed softly while the music blasted in your headphones as you made your way up the stairs to the headquarters of the Art Tribune, the art focused magazine you worked for since over a year.

You liked the job even if to deal with artists was hard and the pay check could really deserve an improvement, it was stimulating and surely kept you on the edge. That morning in particular you needed to revise some background stories and just loads of reading to do to work on a new article for an upcoming exhibition. Just the usual fact checking, but you just couldn’t do it at home the day before so you decided to come early and enjoy some peace and quiet at the office.

You arrived at the top of the stairs of the fourth floor with a groan, you told yourself you had to do the stairs because you spent 70% of your life sitting in front of a computer, kind of self care, but brutal. You groaned lightly going straight toward the little kitchen installed for the team when you noticed something in the empty shared room full of desks. It was actually a really nice place with big industrial style windows that let lots of light inside, a very smart environment to work in, with areas where you could relax, free Wifi and loads of facilities. Usually people were put in big desks together, facing each other, trying to push a sort of ‘community feeling’.

Inevitably most of the people created barricades with books, and pictures of their dogs or even empty coffee cups. Yes, all cute and artistic, but do not talk to me.

That’s what also the attitude of the man you shared your desk with on your first day. He whined like a child for twenty minutes, complained he was happy to work alone, followed the assistant of the editor around the office and created a barricade of catalogues between the two of you so thick that you wondered if it was also bulletproof, only to rest his elbows over it half an hour asking if you had the change for the vending machine. Yes, that random man was you colleague and friend, Sebastian Zöllner.

The same that you are witnessing now asleep on the desk, head resting on his crossed arms while a stand of saliva went down on his shirt, wild hair and shoes taken off.

He could be considered an attractive man if he wasn’t a bloody nightmare of a person. You actually worked a lot with him and enjoyed his presence most of the days, your characters folded nicely and you would bounce off his attitude. He was strong on biographies and annoying the shit out of others, so he was always nagging at someone, you included.

You smirked slowly tracing his hair with your fingers, he never looked so innocent and you were always surprised to learn how those messy hair were so soft. It wasn’t the first time you did that gesture, sometimes he did lean his head like this only to be touched like an annoying mewling cat that needs attentions. “Kaffee” He mumbled making you chuckle, such a an annoying brat and he didn’t even open his eyes.

You carried on walking to the little kitchen room to prepare some coffee for you and your desk partner. You shook your head aimlessly as you started wondering why the man is here at this hour and if it was really a good idea to wake him up. To have him awake means to be able to do little to zero.

You watched the coffee get ready, the comforting tune of your morning playlist getting you still on the good side of your mood as you poured the coffee in your mug.

Then you saw it, an arm sneaking in front of you and taking the mug from your hand, you jump scared in a second almost pouring the rest of the coffee on the whole kitchen counter only to encounter Sebastian sleepy figure behind you bringing the mug close to his nose and inhaling deeply the aroma before having a gulp, you stared at him as his jaw clenched, his eyes got a bit teary. “Fucking hot” he whined making you chuckle, he deserved it for stealing it, luckily you were already doing some more for him so he stole your favourite mug but you had some coffee for you left.

You pulled off your headphones leaning them on your neck “No idea you’d be sleeping at the office, weren’t you off on some interview ?”

He shrugged “yeah, well me neither, but interviewing sculptors is always annoying as shit and those are always supersensitive” he said opening the freezer and pulling out some ice cubes from their box and putting them in the coffee mug. “Scheiße!” He cursed as the ice cube landing in the mug caused the coffee to spill onto his white shirt. You pressed your lips tight against each other not to laugh into his face, but he was already pissed off and it wasn’t even proper work time. You watched him lean over the sink trying to wash it off somehow without even bothering to take it off, just adding chaos on chaos.

“Y/N! Do not laugh and try to help me! Beside, the heck are you doing here at this hour?” You rolled your eyes at that comment, but you didn’t indulge him in that request.

“I was just looking for silence”

He nodded like he didn’t believe a single word of it, he was just an asshole and you had to deal with it like it or not. You almost hated how he was so freaking good at writing and that’s probably why many people indulged him. Even you knew his pieces on the magazine and didn’t expect to find out he was so…so Sebastian.

You let out a breathy chuckle taking your mug and making your way to your joined desk letting him wrestle his balance over the kitchen sink trying to get the stain wet and not shower himself in the meanwhile.

You sat down at your spot leaning the mug on side, hands covering your face trying to keep a clear mind letting out a big breath “okay, let’s do this”

You turned on the lamplight on your desk pulling out your laptop from your backpack. As the computer was ‘waking up’ you stared at Sebastian side of the desk compared to yours.

You had like a little citadel of books around you, but it was pretty neat, a little succulent gifted by your friend for your first day at work with the name tag ‘Danny’ on it sitting beside the lamp, lots of pencils and pens of different colours and notebooks to no end. If you had something in common with that beast of a man was that you both still relied on paper for sketching ideas and write down impressions in the moment, then onto the typing.

His side, however, was like a contemporary artwork in itself. Half empty cigarettes packages everywhere, the ashtray filled up, paper inside books and books filled with more papers. Notes everywhere, the damn king of neon yellow post-its, stains of coffee and crumbles of food invert corner, his red laptop showing off like a punch in the eye and his satchel bag always hang or thrown around.

You often wondered if the cleaning stuff just gave up on him. Your lucky guess was that he would probably throw a fit if anything was moved, so everyone just played the blind eye.

He was good at throwing fits.

You watched him come back sitting in front of you, half of his shirt soaked in the attempt to clean it up, he licked his lips picking one empty package of cigarettes looking in it and throwing it away until he found one with still something in it and he lighted his cigarette as he turned on his laptop. You sighed opening the window to let the fresh air not getting you intoxicated.

You went back to sip your coffee and stare at the screen quietly, every now and then your eyes falling onto the little cloud of smoke in front of you.

Sebastian was an attractive man, that was undeniable and you were sure that made him also a successful interviewer even though he was so random and chaotic, when he was silent and collected in thoughts he was indeed a sight to be seen. The dark hair framing his face like he was some cherub, his deep eyes staring into the void of his own words as he typed. He had a sort of decadent look on him.

Slowly the office begun to get filled, people coming here and there to tease Seb about coming early and he just waving his cigarette around asking for silence.

“Zöllner””

The chief editor shouted getting into his office without even turning around. Seb rolled his eyes looking at you as he pushed the cigarette in the ashtray waving his hand around to dissipate the smoke around him before standing up.

“I wonder how he managed to survive few days without shouting my name” he smirked.

You looked at him and mimicked his smirk.

What a chaotic man.

You had finished your reading by then and started to make a first draft of the article you were meant to work on.

“Y/N!!!” Sebastian voice rang through the office making you jump on your seat and he gestured at you to go with him with a big wave of his arm.

You looked at your screen with an helpless sigh, it seems like you will not write that article anytime soon, you’d better just have slept an hour more.

You stood up following that incessant wave as Seb put his hand on your back to get you in a bit quicker.

“Good morning”

You said as the chief editor nodded quietly “Look Y/N, it is a big favour I have to ask you” he begun frankly as you were beginning to get worried “you did your time with silly articles, so I thought it could be interesting to pair you up with Sebastian to go to tonight’s exhibition of Evita Schnecke”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at Sebastian shrug his shoulders.

“I need somebody to keep the horse with tight rains” Mr Megelbach continued gesturing with his pen at Sebastian and then at you “and you will dip your toes in those big time artists environment, but we really need to make sure Sebastian won’t hurt anyone’s sensibility, her interview has been obtained with lots of hard work”

“Yeah, we all know that hard work” Sebastian whispered in your ear earning a glare from Mr Megelbach who handed you a couple of catalogues from that artist and the invitation.

“So, put on hold your current article for today, make a plan with this train wreck and please make sure he doesn’t show up dressed like that”

“That was unneeded”

“All precautions are always needed with you, and now get out of my office the both of you”

You nodded moving out of the office, you were a bit anxious. Those artists were unpredictable just as Sebastian.

You made your way back to your desk with him as you sat down looking at the invitation. “So, it begins at 9 pm” you said almost understanding why Sebastian shouldn’t be allowed to go unescorted because the invitation on the dress code had: Wear something that talks about your soul. Only that could bring Sebastian to have an aneurism.

“I hate that bitch”

“Seb, that’s not a good start for an article”

He smirked as you said so but shrugged

“I mean it, this woman was born into privilege, she portrayed herself to be this underground rebel, but her simple black dress was a Chanel and her everyday boot Balenciaga, so I don’t trust her for a reason”

You smirked as you could agree with that and showed him the two catalogues the boss gave you

“Choose your fighter”

He groaned so loud he could have stabbed his toe and he leaned over his side of the desk picking one from your hand giving a light pinch on your side “teacher’s pet”. You chuckled softly as he always said that.

“Tell me if you read something that it is not about the performer’s way of life” he mumbled opening it in front of him.

You begun your reading and it was indeed the hell pit of a vey spoiled kid who was told to be the greatest since the first day of life, you picked your notebook and opened it taking notes on things that you could ask about.

Sebastian in the meanwhile lighted up another cigarette rolling it between his fingers mindlessly, his eyes looking above the paper at you every now and then among the little curses in German about the stupid things written there.

After some time it was becoming really a torture to read and you leaned your back on your chair stretching your legs forward for Seb to catch one of them among his.

You smirked as you often joked to him he was like some bear trap with those legs always catching yours.

He put his hand under the table bringing your leg up onto his thigh as you shifted even lower on your seat, his hand touching your ankle mindlessly as he had a talent for little massages like that. He did it the first time a while aback, a summer day where it was so hot and humid that you couldn’t feel your own legs.

So it became a little ritual among the two of you. You had many of those rituals, it was like an unspoken collection of attentions. Like you making the coffee in the morning because he was a grumpy ass. Or him always buying you some chewing gum or little treat when he went to buy cigarettes.

“I guess I am not the only one that needs a restyle”

He said bringing you away by the tenderness those little actions brought to you when he pushed his finger in your Vans shoe deepening a hole that you were trying to ignore from months.

“Seb, don’t do it, I wanted to make them last another season”

“Another season? These can’t last the end of the month, no doubt why your sex life is a train wreck”

You frowned at him taking your ankle off his hand to push on his chair making him roll back thanks to the little wheels underneath it, but he held on the desk and pulled himself closer again.

“What do you even know about it”

He looked at you, eyebrows raising up on his forehead

“Y/N, if I was your boyfriend I wouldn’t allow you to leave the bed that early in the morning to go to the office and that’s a fact”

“Oh, and how on heaven could you detain my passion for this job?” “Well, I can write you a list about it, you can consider it a to do list on your next date” His smirk was so wide, he enjoyed to tease you like that, the bastard, he knew to be an hottie and he always acted like half of the world was up to fuck with him.

“Oh please, do it, I want to see”

You teased him and he leaned in elbows on the table staring at you.

Oh the sexual tension with him was too much, you always went down on this hurricane of remarks, always him mentioning how you need more orgasms or implying it, or even implying how good he is at giving them.

“But be careful, because any act should be performed and not only lived”

You said quoting the artist you were reading about and he whined so hard like you really stomped your foot on his balls.

“Horrid witch”

“Me?” “No, that one”

He huffed and puffed picking another cigarette. Sometimes cigarettes just died on his fingers as he forgot to actually enjoy them more than waving them around.

The artist herself wasn’t remarkable, she used themes seen over and over before, she had a background as performer/dancer and she added painting to that, but more than talent she had an amazing marketing squad. You read her story and her commentaries about living like in a poem, which always sounds pretty easy with a big bank account.

You did all you could to stay neutral even if Seb was going down to massacre the woman, you two shared a bundle of two sandwiches (or better say, your brought a package of two and he was skipping his lunch so you just handed it to him) until you decided to get parted and go get ready at home.

That evening you were waiting for him in front of your apartment, when a taxi stopped in front of you and his figure appeared waving at you to come in on the back. His eyes widened in surprise “Well, well, well, look who got all fancy here”

He smirked as his eyes travelled on you shamelessly, the dress was actually one of those you brought ages ago and never used, also to wear heels felt like new, last time you went to a fancy event almost hard to recollect.

“Just move and let me in”

You said chuckling as you looked at him being so elegant when you noticed it, the price tag on his shirt.

“Seb, did you just buy this shirt?”

“Yes, and I am going to take it back tomorrow”

You looked at him puzzled

“What?” He groaned “I suck at ironing stuff”

You looked at him as a little laugh escaped your lips as he told you not to, but it was too late for that, you shifted closer to him anyway helping him to hide that price tag better behind his neck. Nevertheless the white shirt was really fancy and fitted him perfectly.

As you arrived in front of the gallery you sighed and made your way inside.

The place wasn’t crowded but few eyes turned as you got in.

“Would you like some champagne?” A waiter asked and Seb picked two flutes immediately downing one in a gulp on his own as the other was still in his other hand, he put the empty glass on the tray and then picked a third one handing it to you.

“Drink Y/N or you won’t make it to the end of the evening”

You smirked as he was always over dramatic, but indeed the evening seemed to be made for posh people to show off how cool they are.

You spotted the artist pretty quickly wearing a Valentino bright red dress, she surely had the dancer figure and gestures which gave her some kind of an edge.

"She is all yours"

You looked at Sebastian already half way through his drink, giving you that cheshire cat smirk.

"Are you sure?"

"You know I will insult her in a second if she names her dancing background one more time, I saw the videos, she looked like a three ready to collapse on the ground" he chuckled as you smirked shaking your head at his metaphor, but he is probably right, he is too much biased.

"I didn't notice the open back before" he said referring to your dress as he caressed over your skin with his fingertips making goosebumps raise up your spine.

"What? Am I too sexy for your own good?"

"Probably" he commented not losing a beat to answer you. You were taken aback from a moment, his eyes still down on his hand touching your back before raising up to find yours.

Then he took his hand away and pressed the cold champagne glass against it making you hiss "Now go, I'll check this bourgeois art"

You frowned but you just moved away from him. He always did it, he teased you and then made it a joke. You gave it back to him too, it was your relationship, that's how you balanced it.

"Good evening " you said to her with a smile holding your glass in your left hand before offering your right hand to her "I am Y/N, from the Art Tribune"

She went from neutral to smiling in a second

"Oh, I was waiting to meet you" she said leaning to kiss your cheek, surely she was a woman with charm, with a degree of boldness that made her charming and also, you noticed, extremely touchy-feely with everyone.

"We can define this a sort of retrospective of your previous works, I liked to see the evolution of it" you lied, because you just saw the catalogue.

But that was fair enough to have her go on about her, guess what? Past as a dancer, about how she needed to express herself, how she was her own muse and all the stuff you already read.

"What is next for you then?"

"I want to follow my dream, I have always wanted to found a space with my name where people could rent the rooms to perform dances and arts"

You stared at her. For real? Like there weren't other hundreds in the whole city?

"What will keep you apart from all the others that did this before you?"

"Nobody is me" she smirked like it was clear and obvious.

You asked few more questions, but you were sad to admit Sebastian was right. There wasn't art there, there was just profit, selling a name, a brand.

This saddened you because you met many artists that had less than a chance to make it but double the talent of Miss Valentino Dress.

"Y/N" Sebastian warm hand was on your back as you were downing the last bit of champagne "Come, come ,come quick" he said pushing you away as the artist clearly recognised him but he dismissed her with some insult or whatever he just mumbled.

"Seb, I was working, what the hell?"

"Elke is here"

You still didn't understand, you were puzzled as the reason of that anxiety was still unknown to you.

"Like your girlfriend Elke?"

"Put an ex in front of it" he said looking around frantically

"Oh, I am sorry, I didn't know"

"No, me neither, I thought she was just bashing around, she always did" his arm sneaked around your waist pulling you closer "please, act sexy for once"

You were one second from hitting his guts with your elbow when Elke herself approached.

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here" she said waving her glass around

"Yeah, well I work for an important Art journal if you remember"

"How could I forget?" she groaned looking at you then as Sebastian's hand rested onto your hip. Really? Was he acting like you were his date?

"Hi, I am Y/N"

You said politely to her and she chuckled "Run when you can, this man is a leech and you don't even know it"

She mentioned it almost casually, but you could feel all the poison implied on your skin, Sebastian's hand giving you a soft squeeze, you had never seen him like this before. He looked like a dog that just got kicked, his back hunched over you lightly both trying to protect you and for protection.

"Well, thank you for your advice, I must be a real torment too because we actually have lot of fun together, I like his unpredictability"

You said it from your heart, you didn't want to insult her or anything, but you felt bad for him. Even if he probably deserved it, to be humiliated like this must be hard in any circumstance, in particular in a place where he is supposed to work and being known.

He looked at you a bit surprised, he leaned slowly pressing a kiss on your temple and you smiled because of that gesture so enveloped in that feeling of tenderness.

"Your shot" Elke said clearly a bit annoyed that you as she just moved along followed by a man that must be her date.

"Lets go out"

You suggested as Seb nodded and just followed for once, he held your hand as you guided him and for once he wasn't talking or commenting anything.

As you went out he sat down on the sidewalk pulling out his package of cigarettes taking out one immediately.

"Hey stand up" you said to him as he looked up at you and you snatched that cigarette off his lips "let's go away"

"Where? Don't we have to stay until she gets naked to dance?"

You smirked "No, we have all the material we need"

You took his cigarette away offering him your hand as he picked it and you guided him.

He was silent, which is rare, when he was silent it meant he was upset in some way, he always had a nice comeback line for everything usually.

His head leaned on side like a scolded child as he slowly laced your fingers together.

You walked across few streets, your heels clicking on the cement until you made it to your final location pulling him inside.

"Constatinopole?"

Seb asked looking at the sign, it was a kebab place, your favourite by the way.

"I am hungry" you just said making him lower his head and smile like a kid with cue breathy chuckles.

You ordered for the two of you as he went to sat down putting another cigarette between his lips when the man behind the counter glared at him and he just put it back in the package.

He sat down slouching as you did some small talks with the guys there, you clearly knew them. The soft music from the radio holding the place into a sort of magical aura as his eyes travelled over your naked back once more, the need for a cigarette becoming even more urgent.

You two dressed so elegantly really were so noticeable in the bright lightend place, he smiled to himself thinking it could be a nice painting by Hopper.

You came back offering him his kebab with a soft drink, very thoughtful because he was indeed already a bit high on champagne.

You ate quietly together, it wasn't uncomfortable, your silences were happening often at work and always filled with a sense of common understanding, you leaned your leg up like you always did at the office and rested it on his thigh as you sat sideways beside him. His hand flying naturally on your ankle to give his usual massage, his thumb tracing your skin with imaginary patterns as his other hand held the kebab close to his mouth.

The speaker at the radio announcing next song as Rocket Man by Elton John filled the room with a melancholic vibe. You couldn't help but think the song suited perfectly Sebastian, his being out of this word, out of control.

"Thank you" he said at some point as he tried his best not to ruin his shirt, you looked up at him as he was staring, his eyes telling you something on their own "You have been the best girlfriend I have ever had"

He added with a bitter smile diverting once more his gaze, you smiled back at him, he looked so resigned. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you have never seen him so fragile before.

"I could be"

His eyes darted up to you, his surprise evident as he put down the kebab, the soothing voice of the British singer still giving a dream edge to the moment as he moved closer. You slowly shifted your leg to give him room of movement as his right arm sneaked to rest on the back of your chair closing the space between the two of you.

His lips tasted still a bit of champagne as he pressed them against yours, you kissed him back slowly as his left hand travelled on your thigh pulling you closer to him probably staining your dress because of his greasy hand.

He pulled back almost immediately before leaning onto you again titling his head on the other side. This second time the kiss was more deep, more intense. Your hands slowly cradling his face before pulling back yourself.

He smiled against your lips and you smiled back.

Maybe tomorrow you will regret it like Elke said, maybe not.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief@thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved@fictionlandslanddreams@charistory @greeneyedblondie44@apparrio @hb8301@whatawildone @rhymerhymerhyme @thehuiabird @lilith-blackrose @unbeatablecurlgirl@obsidianlaszlo@alindeluce@zemosimp05 @baronesszemo-blackwood @nocapesdahlingLet me know if you want to get tagged to my publications too <3

#sebastian zöllner x you #sebastian zollner x reader #sebastian zöllner headcanon #sebastian zöllner x reader #sebastian zollner #sebastian zöllner x y/n #sebastian zöllner #sebastian zollner x y/n

115 notes · View notes

kyunisixx · 3 years

Text

chiaroscuro

artist!Robert Plant AU one shot.

a/n: this really started out as a song I wanted to write. But I knew I had to turn it into a longer writing!!

themes: fluff, mild implications of nsfw and tw: childhood trauma.

summary: in which Y/N becomes a muse for Robert, a landscape artist in more ways than one. (Man, that summary is so shit but let's roll with it)

pairing: artist!Robert Plant x fem!reader

chi·a·ro·scu·ro

the treatment of light and shade in drawing and painting.

an effect of contrasted light and shadow created by light falling unevenly or from a particular direction on something.

"Lean back for me a bit more, darling. That's right, relax."

As she moves, the old sofa creaks beneath her. Chilled air gusts through a partially opened window, making her shiver and sending miniscule bumps all over her bare skin. Her eyes drift over the fixtures inside the cozy cabin, illuminated by an outmoded oil lamp situated on the man's table. Several tiny moths were floating around it as the flame wavered ever so slightly from the breeze.

Scattered were all paintbrushes and smudges of paint were messily smeared all over the table. A round board was placed so close at the edge (one she heard him call before —a palette). In the middle is a rustic cup with half-empty, now cold tea. But a paint-smudged hand grasped on its handle and swiftly brought it over to a mouth.

Then her eyes met his.

His frizzled, curly blond locks are pulled into a disheveled bun. One he pinned up so carelessly with a thin, unused paintbrush as to prevent it from obstructing his view but a few ringlets managed to escape and are now framing his face.

Ivory-colored shirt, a few buttons undone to reveal smooth skin of his collarbones which were also marked with a few shades of paint. Some scattered across his jawline to his cheek.

Lips are pursed and eyes are pulled into deep concentration, they are set into a particular part of her. As if to capture the exact curvature of the crease on her waist.

Salient was the cleft on his chin and the sharp edge of his cheekbones by the incandescent light lent by the lamp, making him look like a contrast between sinister and elegance.

He dipped a brush and carefully made short strokes on the canvas, pausing every now and then to look at her.

The sun was setting and the sky was shaded a dull gray, providing so little of brightness which seemed to have darkened even more being situated in a lush forest.

Many months ago at this time of the day, she would have just been getting up from her sleep. Wake up and get ready for a long shift. It was a routine she had gotten so used to every day.

Take a bath. Eat. Pick out an outfit. Put on makeup. Be into the persona.

She would become a completely different person as soon as she stepped into the establishment she knew for as long as she moved into the town a few months ago.

From having to move into different cities and using different names to hide her identity. All of it to escape the filthy and haunted ghost of her past.

Screaming. Glass breaking. Bruises. Slamming doors. All of the things a child shouldn't have to go through. She took a risk and ran away from it.

And here is where she ended up thirteen years later.

Lacklustre eyes unmoving as they steadily stared back at her in a blurry mirror inside the changing room. All the girls' chattering seemed to have been muted and faded in the background as she gazed at her reflection. She picked up the small item in her hand, before taking the cap off and swiped the crimson lipstick across her chapped lips, creating a thick shade.

"Y/N, you ready to go?"

She turned her head back to Don, the club manager. She smiled and moved her head in a single nod.

“Sure, Don. Just give me a short moment”. She adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress and walked on the familiar, dimly lit hallway. Her stilettos clapped quietly on the floor as she padded and stopped in front of a red curtain covering the doorway from the side to the stage.

"How's it going, folks? Alright, alright. I'd get right into it. This is the moment you've all been waiting for. The crowd favourite, slithers like a python, mistress of the night; Marilyn"

Then, she waited as the main lights switched off and took her cue to enter as smoke filled the platform. Coloured lights gleamed right through. She situated herself right in the middle then circled her hand on the pole as the first note of the song started to hum quietly. Like a distant patter of rain—calm before the storm. Her hips moved into the rhythm and fluidly sneaked around the pole as the cloud of smoke started to clear out. Gazing into the crowd of men, her blood-red lips quirk into a smirk.

It was the only time she knew she had complete power and control. And she relished it, savoring the potency.

Her hands smoothed all over her now slightly perspired skin as men clamored and hooted for her. Bills were haphazardly thrown into the dancefloor. Something that she wasn't used to when she first started, it made her feel cheap. Dirty. But her routine carried on almost every night, she eventually got used to it and had even grown to like it.

Then she spotted him.

Big ball of golden hair illuminated by stage lights. He was situated amongst the sea of predators, his eyes followed the fluidity of her movements. But what struck her the most was the way he was watching her. It wasn't shadowed by lust, but more of an intense wonder and curiosity. It was as if he was memorizing each part of her curves, but for another purpose.

Her gaze somewhat mirrored his. He definitely wasn't strange-looking. Hell, he might have been the most beautiful man she has ever seen. He didn't belong to a place where no good men wander around. Both his beguiling beauty and aura was completely out of place for such a place like this.

The song then came to a stop. Her number was over but her eyes remained locked with his. It was only then she came back to consciousness as Don's voice boomed into the large speakers, signalling the end of her performance. She collected the bills scattered on the floor and walked off the stage, throwing a last glance into the crowd as she took her exit.

He was gone.

He wouldn't show up for a couple of days. She was sure, of course. The moment she steps out, her eyes would already be skimming through the lounge, and would sigh in disappointment if she didn't spot any sign of him.

"Have you seen your mysterious man yet?"

One of the girls she was closest to, Hershey, asked as she counted the thick block of bills on her hand.

"He wasn't out there tonight"

"You could have been hallucinating. Anyway, you told me he was 'like an angel'"

Hershey laughed, mimicking the way she had said the last part with a breathy tone and added, "Or could have been disappointed in your dance number, ran away and swore to not step a foot into this place again"

She stopped momentarily, chuckled lightly and sighed, "You may not be far from the truth but we'll see."

Then he would be there the next night, positioned right at a table at the back. His curly locks gave his identity right away, with his elbows propped up and fingers poised against his chin, bearing the same gaze.

Later that night, he'd be waiting right outside of the club.

"The show was spectacular."

She tilted her head to him, nodded and smiled.

"Thank you."

She wasn't sure how it ended up with her sitting on a stool inside a cozy 24-hour operating diner so late at night, chatting with her "mysterious man" late at night, who introduced himself as Robert. He was apparently a landscape artist and has traveled the world where he finds inspirations for his works.

"The best place I have ever been to? Hm. I'd say Machu Picchu, set in the high mountains of Andes in Peru, above a river called Urubamba. I had to hike all the way up, and you could see the breathtaking view when you reach the top."

"That does sound very lovely." She sighed wistfully.

"Have you ever traveled anywhere outside the country?"

"Oh no, I have not. I move to different places a lot but I've never gone out, never had the chance to."

"Ah, you should! It's wonderful."

She nodded, "Do you only do landscaping?"

"Well, no. I do a little bit of abstract art but I focus mainly on landscaping. I was thinking of expanding more, though. Maybe portrait, or nude art."

"That's a good idea. An artist has to come out of his comfort zone and be able to become great."

"Yeah…", he trailed off, as if lost in thought. "I hope this doesn't come off as strange or I as a creep. But may I ask you to be my muse? Don't worry! We'll only do portrait." He added the last sentence quickly.

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him, her brows furrowed deep in thought.

"You don't have to s—"

"I'll do it."

A few days later, she was again popped up on a stool inside his flat just a few blocks away from the club. His place was spacious, but had a very rustic feel to the interior design. A few souvenirs from different countries were neatly placed on a shelf and most of his paintings were hung stylistically on the walls (in which she stared at in complete awe for what she could tell an hour each painting until he had to drag her away to his studio)

Her fingers fiddled as she tried to stay still under his calculating gaze. She never had much problem with how she looked and never had insecurities. Perhaps she just didn't care enough to be insecure. But at that moment, she thought of how she must've appeared to him and if she was good-looking enough to be an inspiration for his art.

"Are you alright there?"

"Yes! Yes, I… Yeah I'm alright."

His hand stopped and placed the paintbrush on the table. "Are you sure? If you're not comfortable or if you need a break, we could stop for a bit."

She shook her head vigorously, "No, it's okay. Don't worry."

"If you say so."

She let her eyes travel from his bare foot, to his khaki trousers, to his satin shirt with top three buttons undone, to his face. Oh, his gorgeous face. It was pulled into a deep concentration as he stared at his work, giving her some time to study his majestic features.

His eyes flickered to hers as if sensing her stare and playfully frowned, a small smile curled on the side of his lips.

"What?"

He laughed, "You were staring."

"I was. Is it a crime?"

"No, I wouldn't say it is." He said with a teasing edge to his voice.

It was their arrangement which they stick to a few times a week. On her day off, after work if she wasn't feeling too exhausted. There was an obvious attraction lingering inside the room of his small studio but none of them acted upon it other than just casual flirtations thrown around. He was a perfect gentleman and had always been accommodating. A couple of times he would insist on paying her in which she would always refuse to accept.

"The tea you make for me is enough for a payment." She had jokingly said. "Do not worry about it, Robert. Really, it's okay. I'm making enough from my job."

One night, after their sessions, they had too many drinks and bottles were littered over the table along with his paint brushes which had long dried of paint.

"Tell me about you, Marilyn. Mistress of the night, who apparently, slithers like a python." He mused, mentioning her alias. His glossy eyes filled with mirth.

She snorted, took a long swig of beer and swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

"Marilyn is… Nobody. I'm nobody. I came from somewhere that in my mind, ceased to exist." She stared ahead. "I ran away from home. Who calls it a home anyway?" She laughed humorlessly.

"My parents fought a lot. They spent so much time fighting, they didn't even have time for me. Looking back at it now, I could have just preferred that. But then, they turned their anger towards me." She sniffed and quickly wiped the salty tears before they even slid down to her flushed cheeks.

"I went to my grandparents. They loved me so much and I loved them so dearly. But they were not my parents. Eventually, both of them passed away and I was left on my own. But I was eighteen. I didn't have to go back to my parents. So I went to different cities, finding places where I could feel like I could fit in. Looked for jobs, and then I ended up here. I made friends and I have my own place, but it still never felt like home."

He was quietly staring at her, and the silence was deafening. Then he lifted his free hand to her face and ran the back of his index finger to dry her cheeks. Her hand caught his and brought it to her lips and placed a soft kiss.

"But with you, it feels… different. I like hanging out with you. I like being with you. You feel like home to me, Robert."

Her voice echoed softly as he took his time to reply. But he didn't, instead, he leaned down and sealed his lips against hers.

He layed limply on top of her body as he shuddered from his release. Both tried to desperately catch for their breath as her hand smoothed down his back and the other combed through his damp locks. He slid out of her and dropped beside her, not too long before he enclosed his arms over her and pulled closer. He catches her lips on his in a lazy kiss and smiled.

"You feel like home to me too, Y/N."

Her heart soared and nuzzled her nose against his.

"I want to paint you like this. May I? You are so beautiful. In light and in shadow."

She blushed, "Yes, but right now? I'm tired."

"No, no. We'll do it tomorrow. I'll take you somewhere." His warm breath hit her skin as he whispered.

"Where?" She whispered back.

"Well, I'm not telling you that. But it was what I helped my Father build when I was younger. It's somewhat like a special place for me, and I want you to see it."

He gazed at her as he waited for her to respond.

"Okay."

Under the light of the lamp, she peers at him under her lashes.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Mm? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You know what it is. Cut it out or I'll never get to finish this."

She huffs. "You're no fun"

"I can prove you otherwise in a few minutes."

He continued to do his finishing touches and leaned back to admire his work.

"That isn't too bad. But nothing compares to the real art."

"And what might that be?"

"You, my love." He stood up, walked over to where she was, placed his hand at the back of her neck and pulled her to him.

"I've been waiting for this for hours."

"I've been giving you hints and you insist on finishing your art."

He chuckled. "Of course I had to."

His fingers danced their way from her sides to her hips, rubbing along the marks littered across her skin.

"Are you ready to see it?" He murmured against her neck. She shudders as she nodded, giving their playful banter a break.

He bit her earlobe softly, "Okay."

He walked over to his canvas and carefully turned it around to face her.

She gasps.

⭐ writings list ⭐

taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @princesspagey , @ritacaroline , @jimmys-zeppelin , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby (if you wanted to be added in, let me know 🤘🏻🤗)

#robert plant x reader #robert plant #led zeppelin #fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #led zeppelin imagines #john paul jones #john bonham #jimmy page #fluff #cabincore #rustic #artist!au

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bloomyagi · 3 years

Text

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help

It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

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