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megwritesriddles · 9 days ago

Text

In the Middle of the Night (In My Dreams!) ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Fem! Reader / You

Summary: Kinktober 2024 Day 21 - Somnophilia. Riddle has to figure out a way to keep Reader happy and covering for his ever increasing duties outside of the castle. What initially starts as a transaction escalates when they're both more willing than he expected, leading them to explore the slightly more forbidden together.

Tags: Somnophilia (consensual), Mildly dubious consent, Fingering, Hand jobs, Oral sex (f and m receiving), Friends with benefits, Denial of feelings, SoftDom!Riddle, HeadGirl!Reader, Manipulation, Faking an illness (chronic fatigue is very real, he's just a lying POS, only briefly mentioned).

READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED!!!!

Word count: 5.1k

Read it on ao3! | Masterlist

Authors note: Okay so despite this poll (sorry), I edited this into a less dark kinktober fic and will then release a much darker (non-con elements) part two after I finally finish kinktober!! This works as a stand alone if you're not into reading that kinda stuff (which I totally understand, ily dw)!! It just felt too dark for kinktober... even tho I literally have non-con as the prompt for day 25.... idk okay!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

PART 2 COMING SOON !! (but works as stand alone)

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The moment the two of you had been announced as Head Boy and Girl at the start of the year, Riddle knew he had to get on your good side. Not only for the purposes of professional engagements and living in the same quarters but also because there would be a lot he’d need from you. Last year, he had found a flaw in the enchantments around the castle, discovering that apparition in and out of the castle was in fact possible, so long as you did so from the room of requirements. He has started attending to business outside of the castle regularly, rallying supporters in closed-off magical communities, among trolls and elves. He also searches for artefacts and researches dark magic when he finds the time, visiting isolated collections owned by old eccentrics who he is able to charm easily. He’s made himself a busy life outside of Hogwarts which he’s determined to keep up in order for his plans post-graduation to go as smoothly as possible. Which is where you come in.

He leaves for these expeditions every weekend, but obviously, he’s not actually allowed to leave the castle. He has to ask you to cover for him if anyone asks where he’s gone. He concocts a rubbish story about having chronic fatigue and having to rest all the time he can, and that he can’t possibly be disturbed while he’s resting as he’s taking special potions for sleep. It’s all a lie, playing on your empathy, which he knows you have droves of, something you are widely admired for. He tells you that he’s horribly embarrassed about it and doesn’t want anyone to think he’s incapable of being Head Boy because of it, so asks you to cover for him if anyone asks about him. You give him those big sympathetic eyes and agree, workshopping a litany of excuses with him. He almost feels bad with how seriously you’re taking this, how much you want him to feel okay, even though you’ve never liked him much before. Almost. It won’t happen a lot either way, he’s told his ‘friends’ that he will be out of reach and very sternly told them not to question, so they won’t poke around, and anyone else who needs him won’t need him often. He makes a show of being very tired in the evenings in the common room the first few weeks you live together. Soon after, he drops the charade and you don’t seem to notice the falsification happening right in front of you, continuing to cover for him every now and then when it comes up. You even comment optimistically that he seems more energetic lately, to which he smiles.

“I suppose so, yes, it must be that I can finally get the rest I need, thanks to you,” he says smoothly, proud of himself for taking this as another opportunity to keep you pliable. You seem overjoyed to be helping.

In return, he keeps you sweet. At first, he merely observes you to get an idea of what might keep him on your good side. Then, he starts showing up for you. He brings your favourite pastries from breakfast (you have a bad habit of sleeping in, which sometimes makes him wonder how you got this job, but alas), accompanied by a coffee just how you like it. Complimenting you whenever you try a new hairstyle or dress up nicely on weekends. The first time he’d done it, he’d commented on a trim you’d gotten to your hair over the weekend in Hogsmeade. You were baffled, saying no one had noticed a thing all day. He sensed that you found the fact that he was the only one to notice odd, but he couldn’t help being observant. He told you as much, and you just smiled. He makes sure to do any favours you ask of him, so you can’t throw his refusal back in his face in case you want to stop helping him, he needs something to hold over your head. It’s never much, perhaps helping you with a bit of schoolwork, listening to a speech you’ve prepared for Head duties or just jostling the logs in the fireplace of the common room when the flames die down. He’s surprised you don’t ask for more, considering that he starts asking for a lot from you.

His schedule outside of Hogwarts gets complicated, requiring him to head out occasionally in the middle of the week. You always cover for him, insisting to professors that he’s ill in bed, even though it’s clear by now that you’ve realised he’s actually missing during these periods. Your enthusiasm over helping him out has dwindled as you get the sense you’re being played, but he treats you well enough that you seem to assume the best intentions. How naive. Having someone so respected by the professors, the head girl herself, lying for him, he knows, is the only reason he’s been getting away with it for this long. He’s ‘sick’ far too often and never seen at the hospital wing, never requesting any medicine or showing any symptoms. He wonders what you think he’s doing when he’s away, doubting you could guess the truth, but you never ask despite your increasingly suspicious looks, which he appreciates. He likes you, you’re discreet, a surprising trait for such a goody-two-shoes as you are. He spends more and more time with you in the common room in his free time, charming you and winning you over, making sure he’s there if you need a favour or a ‘friend’ to talk to. He finds you to be intelligent and likeable, you’re funny, even if he prefers a bit of a darker humour than you have. There are silences as you sit together where you stare at him while he works on whatever schoolwork he deems most important that day, he knows you’re formulating all sorts of theories, your brain turning as you try to make a guess.

“I appreciate you being discreet,” he says simply one night as you sit together, working separately on assignments. The statement is followed by a silence in which he is tempted to look over at you to see your reaction but resists the urge.

“I don’t suppose you’ll ever tell me what you’re up to?” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out as a statement. You already know he won’t, and he knows it too. No matter how good you’ve proved to be about covering for him, if you knew the true nature of what he was up to, you’d run. Tattle before even letting him explain, which really wouldn’t help either way. He turns to you, extending an arm.

“Come here,” he nods his head in his direction. You look confused, and he doesn’t blame you for feeling that way, he isn’t affectionate with anyone. He makes a point of never being seen as being soft, which is easy given he isn’t soft for anyone. But he knows the type you are, so sweet and kind, the type that you can be won over with a little affection. There’s no one here to see either of you anyway, he can risk it this once. You slowly scoot into his side and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He brushes an errant strand of hair from your face and holds you to his side. “I really do appreciate it, I’m always here if you need anything from me,” he whispers. You look up at him and nod. “Good,” he hums. You spend the rest of the night pressed into his side as you do your homework, it’s odd, but he’s warm and solid, and most girls at Hogwarts would kill to be in your position, so you let it be. It becomes a fairly frequent scene, the two of you snuggled up by the fire, especially as the days grow colder and colder. His hands like to wander, brushing places they probably shouldn’t, but you never stop him or say a word, letting your own hands wander a little too. You don’t talk about it, not with him or with anyone else. You know without words that he doesn’t want it to leave the room. It’s just another secret you have to keep for him.

He starts having the need for more frequent meetings with his little group of in-school followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, as his plans get closer and closer to their time of fruition. The Head Common Room is the perfect place to host, spacious and completely secret, except for from you. He knows he has to sweeten the deal once more to have you leave the common room for long periods in the evening. So one night, while the two of you study together snuggled up, he kisses you. You’re alarmed but immediately kiss back. He knew you would, every girl in the damn school would, but it still feels like an unexpectedly simple triumph. His hand grips your jaw, not allowing you to move away, not that you’re trying to. Your hand gently cups the side of his neck, keeping him close as his tongue carefully breaches your lips, slightly surprised by how willing you are for him. He has a multitude of things he’s considered doing to you, but for tonight, he has to stick with something focused on your pleasure. He doesn’t mind, pleasuring you is an act of domination in its own right. By the end of the night, he has you sat between his legs, your back to his chest as his fingers thrust in and out of you. You squirm and mewl in his ear, your head thrown back on his shoulder, as he holds you securely with an arm around your middle, fucking you on his fingers. He’s high off of the fact he has you completely nude apart from your socks before him, while he’s still fully dressed.

“There we go, darling,” he purrs in your ear, gently pressing his lips to your jaw. “I bet you’ve wanted this for quite a while, haven’t you?” he teases, grinding the heel of his palm against you as his fingers press in and out. You must have, given how quickly you’d let him strip you down, manoeuvre you into the position he wanted, just how soaking wet you’d been from a couple of strategic words of praise. He’d wrongly assumed you’d be a little more prudish, but he was pleasantly surprised otherwise. “I want you to do something for me,” he whispers, slowing his movements a little so you can focus on his words. You whine softly in protest and he smirks. “Tomorrow evening, could you make yourself scarce for… let’s say three hours? Starting from… six thirty?” his fingers caress your inner walls torturously lightly, almost tickling, making you squirm unhappily.

“Where would I go?” you exhale.

“Library? Walk the grounds? Astronomy tower? I don’t mind, darling, as long as you’re not here,” he kisses behind your ear softly. He expects some questions or protests, but none come, only a simple nod. He’s a little surprised how easy things are with you, although it may have a lot to do with how his fingers are currently buried deep in your cunt at present, he concedes to himself. But you’re always easy, always helpful, so willing to give him the benefit of the doubt even though you were more than smart enough to know better. “That’s a lovely girl,” he smiles against your skin. He hesitates, unsure whether to reveal the transactional nature of his kindness toward you, but he feels he must assure you somehow that it will be worthwhile. “I’ll reward you accordingly, I promise. You’ll hurry back to me at nine-thirty, won’t you? I’ll be missing you by then,” he purrs, trying to further pull the wool over your eyes with some flattery. He straightens up to look down at you, your head still resting back on his shoulder. “Won’t you?” he prompts again, kissing your forehead. You nod, giving him a pleading look and bucking your hips helplessly. You want him to keep going, feeling half-insane from his unmoving fingers filling you up.

And that he does, finger-fucking you through two mind-blowing orgasms that night, showering you with ever more ridiculous praises as the night goes on. It’s unclear whether you’re losing your mind to the pleasure and not understanding him, or if he’s just spewing every compliment he can possibly think of. Once you’re thoroughly debauched, he helps you into your bed as your legs are too shaky on their own, laying you down and kissing you goodnight with a slightly stilted tenderness. You watch him in quiet confusion as he retreats from your room, feeling satisfied and yet completely confused.

It becomes a bit of a routine, whenever he needs you to stay away from the common room, or otherwise go out of your way for him, he pulls you into his lap in the evening and tugs down your underwear, pleasuring you expertly. Soon, it becomes harder to tell, as he begins to get you off every night, whether he’s after something or not. You don’t know if it’s just his efforts to make sure you don’t forget to think of him positively, you’re far from oblivious to the fact you’re being bribed, or if he’s just enjoying it at this point. He stretches out your encounters more and more, especially when you start returning the favour, using your hand on him while he does the same to you. You’re pleasantly surprised how aroused he gets just from fucking you on his fingers, always at least half-hard by the time you can get your hands on him. When he introduces his mouth into the equation, you’re sure he’ll be asking something big of you soon. But he doesn’t, nothing new comes up, other than you also beginning to use your mouth on him. He seems to love it, so you suppose it must have been motivation enough. He likes to take his time, to make you feel helpless and desperate, not seeming to care if it leads him to spend long periods of time kneeling before you, which was something you were certain he would have never been caught doing for anyone.

It’s a nice relationship in Riddle's opinion, he gets off and he gets what he wants from you. You make yourself scarce and Riddle is able to conduct his meetings in peace in a perfect setting. Whether you’re using mouths or hands, it’s always intensely pleasurable. He grows attached to the sight of you on your knees before him, his cock deep in your mouth as you look up at him with those wide innocent eyes. You’re amazing with your mouth, and usually willing to get on your knees whenever he’d like you to. It’s a perfect arrangement in this way. He loves to hold you down and make you scream using nothing but his tongue. Some of his friends say that eating out a woman is demeaning, but he never feels more powerful than when he has you crying and begging. He loves to make you beg, long-forgotten is the fact he’s meant to be doing this just to keep you sweet, just to manipulate you into helping him. He’s lost in it now, and no matter how selfish he gets in bed, you keep covering for him, seeming to misinterpret him as generous rather than intensely power-hungry. It works well for his purposes, so he lets you think of him as a giving lover.

He’s a little surprised that you haven’t asked for any exclusivity or any indication of whether he’s bringing in other girls at the times he asks you to keep away. He’s not, of course, but he doesn’t understand why you don’t care to ask. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter, but deep down it does bother him, every other girl he’d ever been involved with, even briefly, had asked to be his one and only. You’re a sweet girl, the type he assumed would fall in love with him the moment he first got his hands on (and in) you, but you haven’t indicated this in any way. He knows you’re not seeing any other men because he keeps an eye on you whenever he can. Even having gone so far as to cancel a meeting with a tradesman in Diagon Alley to stay back and watch you while you think he’s away. Nothing. You go about your day as normal, come back to the common room and curl up to read your book. Just before bed, you attempt to get yourself off and fail, pouting through your night routine. You can’t do it without him, he notes smugly. He wishes he could come help, but he can’t without revealing his spying. By the time he gets back legitimately, you’re fast asleep. Given all of this, he still doesn’t understand why you’re not asking him for a commitment. It’s not that he wants to commit to you, he doesn’t like the idea of being tied down, even if he currently has no interest or energy to pursue anyone but you, but the fact you haven’t asked drives him nuts. You seem happy to get off with him and go to sleep without asking a single question. He lingers in your doorway, watching your frame rise and fall under your blanket with slow breaths, wondering about you.

He’s surprised when you bring it up. How you’d felt his presence in your doorway while you’d been asleep, despite not being fully awake. He explained that he’d been wanting to help you out (his own evasive phrasing) but that you’d been visibly asleep so he’d left instead. At your expression, he asks you teasingly if you’d have liked him to do it anyway, his teasing smirk only growing when you blush and nod. And so a system was set, he tells you to sleep on the sofa in the common room if you’d like his attention during the night, as he has a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to fetch water. You agree and you proceed together like normal for the next few days, pleasuring each other in the evenings when he isn’t busy. Every night, even on nights he wasn’t actually waking up naturally, he would come into the common room to check for you. For a long time, you’re not there, and he’s a little frustrated with you. Why dangle such a tantalising idea in front of him if you never meant to go through with it? He’d been a perfect gentleman, telling you that you could say no if the idea made you uncomfortable, but at the time, you’d seemed apprehensively excited about it, yet now, nothing. His eyes stay glued on your door as he goes about getting his water each night, wishing he could go in there. He tries his best not to show his disappointment when he spends time with you in the daytime, not wanting to come off as pushy and drive you away. He needed you to like him, staying on your good side was non-negotiable and pushing you on a matter like this was generally frowned upon. About a week and a half later, he trudges from his room to top up his glass and sees a lump under a blanket on the sofa. It’s you.

He immediately slows and lightens his footsteps, not wanting to wake you as it would ruin the fun. He hadn’t had time for you the last four days, between increasing stakes when it came to schoolwork and closing in on a magical artefact outside of it, he’d been gone for everything but class and sleep. He creeps over to you, seeing your peaceful face squished against the velvet throw pillow. You must have missed him, he thinks, since you started your little mutual arrangement you’ve never gone more than two days without each other before, mostly because Riddle found himself quite insatiable. He’d always told himself he was uninterested in matters of the flesh, that he enjoyed indulging but could easily control himself, and that he was only doing what he was with you to manufacture a sense of closeness and keep you in the palm of his hand. Yet, he had to admit that he doesn’t usually go so far for the purposes of manipulation and that he never would have done this in the first place if he hadn’t found you attractive. He was unwilling to sacrifice his own happiness for his manipulation, beyond a bit of necessary flattering drivel. So when he’d allowed himself into this arrangement, even simply under a pretence, he had quickly lost control of it and become ravenous for the sensations you could offer. He watches your parted lips as you breathe softly. Gently, he rolls you onto your back, waiting to see if you wake. You don’t. He slips the plush blanket down your body and exposes you to his eyes. You’re dressed in a sweet feminine nightgown and he finds the look to be sweet on you, fitting. You were a perfect thing to corrupt. Yet, he smirks to himself, you had agreed to this, you were already corrupted, so desperate for him that you wanted him even in your sleep. Surely you did want exclusivity from him, you were just trying to appear laid back to not scare him off. You could be endearingly shy like that at times. Yes, you agreeing to this was surely evidence that you wanted more from him than you had. That you needed him.

He slowly and cautiously shifts you around until he can settle comfortably between your legs. His hands run up and down the soft skin of your thighs, keeping a close eye to see if you stir. He wonders if you’re really such a heavy sleeper, or if you’re merely pretending not to have woken for his benefit. At the moment it doesn’t matter to him, you seem asleep enough, and if you are conscious, you’re hardly objecting. He pushes up the hem of your nightdress and grins at the sight of you already bare for him, with no underwear in sight. Naughty girl, he thinks to himself as his hands skim up and down your inner thighs, leaning forward to press a soft kiss just above the little patch of hair shielding the part of you he wants most. He would love to tease you and draw it out more, but he doesn’t want you to wake before he can explore the more intimate aspects. He carefully lies down, guiding one of your supple thighs over his shoulder, spreading you open for his eager eyes. You’re already a little wet, he wonders if it’s from his teasing now, or perhaps your dreamy anticipation. He knows he can get you wetter easily. He uses two fingers to gently spread you open even more, revealing the sensitive pearl nestled within your folds. He blows lightly on it, making you twitch a little. He grins.

Still trying to let you stay asleep for now, he leans in and very gently touches his tongue to your bundle of nerves. You sigh softly in your sleep but don’t seem to wake. Your dreams are turning sticky-sweet, you begin to feel warm and floaty, but you’re not conscious enough to register this change properly. You squirm slightly and moan as his tongue gently swirls around your clit, not touching to keep you just bubbling below waking. Your breath is hitching softly, and little noises are leaving your throat. He can tell you’ll wake soon unless he stops, but he figures he doesn’t mind. He wants to see your face when you wake up to his head between your legs. Will you be shocked to start with? Or immediately eager and accepting? He was oddly thrilled to discover this. Your hands slide away from where they rested on your stomach, trying to grab something as he starts to lap at you just a little faster, your breath hitching a little more, exhaling shakily. He’s surprised you’re still asleep, he’s tempted to use legilimency on you to discover what you’re dreaming of. Your face is flushed and your lips parted blissfully, so he figures it’s something nice. His tongue slides up and down between your slick folds, the familiar taste of you spreading across his tongue as you become more and more aroused. He gently kneads the skin of your hip, pulling you a little closer to his mouth, trying to coax you awake without startling you too much. Your eyelids flutter, but you remain asleep, whimpering quietly. He focuses the tip of his tongue on your clit, making the stimulation just a little more intense, watching for your reaction intently. Your fingers tangle into the crumpled blanket by your side, curling into the plush material, and he knows you're on the very verge of wakefulness. He smirks, gently suckling your clit into his mouth.

This rips a loud moan from your chest, which in turn makes your eyes snap open. You try to sit up, blinking blearily, looking a little bewildered, trying to make out shapes in the dim moonlight, to understand why you feel lost in a haze of pleasure. Riddle's hand moves, splaying out on your stomach, pushing you back down and holding you there. Your eyes snap to him, he grins up at you from between your legs, looking unbelievably smug, his eyes glinting in the light of the moon. The sight of him between your legs, the knowledge of what he’d been doing while you’d been sleeping, coaxes another moan from your lips. He eases up a little now you’re awake, going back to gentle teasing licks against your bundle of nerves. Your heart pounds and you breathe rapidly, partially reeling from the sudden awakening, but mostly just feeling amazing. You lie back against the sofa, trying your best to get your bearings while he continues smothering you with unrelenting bliss. He pulls back for a moment, though he instantly replaces his mouth with his fingers, not giving you a moment to think.

“Naughty girl, sleeping without underwear to give me access,” he purrs, his voice rumbling in a self-satisfied manner. You giggle sleepily. You had done that, hadn’t you? He smiles up at you. “Was it a nice awakening, my darling?” he murmurs smoothly, leaning back in to continue his dedicated licks. You whimper softly, your hips twitching before he holds you solidly in place, tutting against your sensitive skin.

“The best awakening, so unbelievably arousing,” you whisper, your voice hoarse, watching him work his magic between your legs. He hums against you. He knows this of course, this was quite possibly the wettest he’d ever had you, only increasing since you’d woken up and become conscious of what he was doing. Your hands slide into his short curls as he works, usually, he might complain about this, but you’re still a little sleepy, and he decides to let it go. You sigh pleasurably, your hooded eyes locked on him. His eyes look up to meet yours as he begins to suckle on your clit once more. Intense pleasure floods over you, your head lolling back, your hands tightening slightly in his hair. You let out a string of desperate moans, moans he’s become intimately familiar with over the past few weeks. You’re close and he intends to get you there, to show you how much you need him, to remind you that you can no longer achieve this alone, if you ever could. He doubles down on his actions, gripping your hip a little tighter to keep you firmly in place. “Oh… Tom!” you plead, trying to grind your centre up into his face. You could get so desperate sometimes, Riddle tuts to himself. “Please,” you beg, anticipating his desire to tease you and hoping to get ahead of it. You need this, badly, he hasn’t been around to help you for days, and the scenario was driving you mad with lust. He’s uncharacteristically gracious, not relenting, continuing to lavish you with exquisite sensation, building you up and up. You look down again, and as his eyes meet yours, the coil in your belly snaps. Your whole body tenses, your back arching off of the sofa, a guttural cry escaping you. He holds your hips in place, continuing his assault as you ride out the climax. Tears gather in your eyes and you feel a little humiliated by how intensely this is affecting you.

After several desperate sobs, you finally collapse back, your hands slipping from his hair. You take several deep breaths as he withdraws from between your legs, sitting up to look down at you. He grabs a tissue from the coffee table, wiping his mouth and discarding it haphazardly. You smile tiredly, and you feel exhausted by your sudden wake-up, but completely heavenly at the same time. You stare at each other for a moment. It’s an oddly domestic moment. You’ve never seen him in his pyjamas before, a matching shirt and trousers, made of silk or some other such soft material, the type that’s popular with the rich Slytherin boys. His hair is a little curly naturally, this you did know from him getting back to the common room on rainy days, but is now slightly messed up from your hands in it. You cover yourself back up, tugging the hem of your nightdress back down as he watches. He looks almost sweet, he has been sweet to you, in his own way. He reaches over and touches your flushed cheek, rubbing it softly with his thumb, unsure whether he’s trying to prove his effect on you, or just wishing to touch you.

“I’ll have to think of something to ask of you in exchange for doing that,” he jokes a little unnaturally. You laugh honestly.

“You didn’t already have something?” you tease, moving to sit up. He smiles, enjoying the way you see through him, just enough to prove you’re not stupid, but not enough to compromise any plans. Perhaps that’s why you haven’t asked for exclusivity with him, you’re not stupid like the others, whether you want it or not being irrelevant to the facts. The facts that were feeling more like theories lately.

“No, believe it or not,” he chuckles, pushing your hair behind your shoulder. “But it’ll be easy enough to think of something,” he pulls you onto his lap and kisses you goodnight. “You always find a way of being useful,”

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xoxoxo

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spdrwdw · 9 months ago

Note

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name.

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies.

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going.

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family.

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with.

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world.

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men.

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose.

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together.

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara.

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home.

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head.

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever!

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape.

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them.

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him.

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were.

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid.

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other.

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats.

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you.

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other.

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection.

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending.

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent.

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you.

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all.

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor.

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message.

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes?

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him.

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes.

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him.

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet.

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door.

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them.

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son.

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions.

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot.

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked.

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot.

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses.

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body.

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted.

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him.

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave.

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there.

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track.

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story.

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one.

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times.

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong.

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her.

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there.

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house.

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come.

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband.

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt.

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you.

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands.

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit.

“What?” You questioned.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress.

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked.

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over.

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time.

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage.

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two.

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone.

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus.

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes.

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see.

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him.

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel.

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty.

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader.

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table.

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat.

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation.

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though.

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly.

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man.

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone.

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers.

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables.

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him.

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible.

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night.

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you.

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic

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runningfrom2am · 10 months ago

Text

cold nights // part eighteen

summary: you showed him colours he knows he can't see with anyone else.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: hiii posting this early bc bestie and i are ab to start a 24 hour readathon! if i'm not active for the next day, that would be why. anyway wish us luck!! also i didn't edit this as thoroughly as i should have so i'm sorry lol

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

You called out of work indefinitely, after that. You didn't want to quit, you wanted to love your job and you honestly couldn't see yourself doing anything else but right now, you just couldn't. Luckily, the girls who worked down at the library were incredibly understanding according to Lennox, who was sent to deliver your letter of leave and apology.

It had been close to a week when you finally ventured out to the back porch to read rather than rotting in bed all day staring at the ceiling. Your mother made you tea, and insisted she come sit with you. You enjoyed the company.

"Would you like to talk about it?" She asks, just as you're turning the page. Under normal circumstances, you'd resort to Romeo and Juliet, but now you feel like you couldn't stomach it. So, Much Ado About Nothing would have to suffice.

"I'm okay, Ma." You say softly, giving a slight shake over your head as your eyes fly over the faded lettering on the page.

"Lennox told us what happened, you know." She adds after a beat of silence.

You look up at her, frowning. "I'm sorry. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone."

"Don't be, dear." She shakes her head quickly, gently resting a hand on your thigh. "I wish you had told us. I wouldn't have invited him in that day, I could have told you he stopped by and we could have made a plan. I shouldn't have sprung that on you."

You sigh, pursing your lips and closing your book. "I didn't want you to dislike him, that's why I didn't tell you. I thought... I wanted to come home with at least something positive to talk about. And I thought that if I gave it enough time, thinking positively about him, I could try to contact him without seeing... that."

She smiles sadly at you. "You really love him, huh?"

"How could I not?" You admit quietly, staring at the cover of the book on your lap. "He was the first person there to show me kindness, to make me feel like I wasn't alone." You explain. "It felt... Like Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers, because of course I didn't think I could really have him. I was living in a dream, in a way."

"And now?" She prompts you to continue, thrilled that you are finally opening up.

"Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps."

She chuckles, gently rubbing your leg. "So that's a yes, then."

"How I wish it was not." You groan, reaching for your cup to drown your predicament in tea.

"Your brother," She sighs, gently removing the book from your lap. "came home that night just... just shaking with anger. And he looked me and your father in the eyes and said he was going to kill Coriolanus. He was set on it." She explains, and you look at her.

"He said that?" You ask, and she nods.

"I could see it in his eyes, he meant it, and we were so confused. Because, after all, it had been Coriolanus and Sejanus who came to the door seeking help for you, and your father told me Coryo looked like a ghost- bless him." She chuckles slightly.

"What I mean is... Your brother is not immune to violence, either. He would hurt someone for you, I know it. Just because you don't wish him to, doesn't mean he doesn't love you so much that he would do anything." You mull over her statement, chewing passively on your lip. "And boys... boys just do things differently than you and I would. Or Lucy Gray would. I bet if you asked her about Billy Taupe, Tam Amber, or little Clerk Carmine, that she'd tell you they've all had their moments. But boys aren't treated fair in this life, so sometimes, they don't fight fair."

"Coriolanus killed someone, Ma."

"Why?" She asks. "Lennox told me you saw it. Why did he kill that boy?"

"Because..." You shake your head. "He was trying to kill him, first."

"Okay, well-"

"But that I can understand, given the circumstances." You quickly explain, guilt settling in your stomach like a weight as you put your mug back down. "It was after. Bobbin had so clearly already passed on, and he hit him again. It was anger, and it was not necessary. A waste of precious time he didn't have but he did it anyway and that... that scared me."

She hums, listening to you intently. "If it helps, dear, and this is my honest feelings... I still think he is a good man, with a good heart." She says. "I know what you've seen is... gosh, it's unfathomable, and I wish I could take that pain from you, but I really do think that if you still feel anything for him you should talk to him."

Your eyes snap up to hers, and you look scared.

"I've only met him once, but gosh, the way he looks at you, and how he spoke about you, he thinks you put the stars in the sky." She grins, trying to relax you by taking your hand. "No problems have ever solved by hiding. And even if you turn out to be correct, that he's never been who you thought he was, you'll get peace by having answers. And even so, he deserves that peace too."

"I... I'll think about it." You nod softly, reaching for your book again.

"Hello? Boys?" Lucy Gray calls out, walking into the small house Coryo and Sejanus have been occupying.

"In here!" Sejanus calls back, and she follows his voice into the small kitchen where he's attempting to make something to eat.

"Ooh, what's for lunch?" She asks, sitting herself down at the dining room table.

"Eggs... I think." Sejanus laughs. Lucy Gray had been coming by to try and keep them company, and she did really like spending time with Sejanus. Coryo didn't have a whole lot to say, though.

"Yum." She giggles, sitting up straight to look into the pan. "Where's Coriolanus?"

"Guess."

"On the back porch staring at the trees?"

"Pretty much."

Lucy Gray sighs, pushing herself up. "Okay, well, The Covey and I are going to the lake tomorrow. It's a hike out, but it's beautiful. You guys should come."

"I'll be there, but I don't know if we can convince blondie." Sejanus nods toward the back door.

"Oh, I'll convince him." She smiles smugly, brushing past him and out the door.

Lucy Gray finds out quickly that apparently she had guessed wrong- he was sitting on the porch, like he had been every day, but today he was reading rather than just staring out at the mountains. "What are ya readin'?" She asks, standing in front of him.

"Nothing that's any of your business." He grumbles, not looking up from the pages of the worn down book.

She leans over him, attempting to read it upside down. "Ah." She grins. "Romeo and Juliet? Good choice."

"What do you need, Lucy Gray?" He asks, closing the book and glaring up at her.

"I've come to extend and invitation to you, we're all going to the lake tomorrow. I think you should come."

"No, thank you."

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. "You didn't chop off all those beautiful gold curls just so you could never see Y/N again, did you?"

His eyes visibly brighten at that, only for a moment. "She's going?" This was the chance he was waiting for. He intended to go to your house that following morning, maybe pick up flowers on the way, a book, or some kind of peace offering, but Sejanus and Lucy Gray shut that down very quickly. Even though he cut his hair almost as soon as he got back to this dump they called a house, they said you still needed time.

"Mhm." Lucy Gray nods, smiling at him knowingly. "She hasn't been working, so I was able to book her for the day."

Had Lucy Gray talked to you about this yet? No. But she knew it would do him some good to get away from this house for a day, whether you were there or not, and she knew that deep down you would want to see him again. A group setting was the best way to do this for everyone. She knew he would be easy to convince, but getting you to agree would be the hard part.

"Okay, okay yeah. I'll come." Coryo nods, looking down. He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he feels like he should be doing something to prepare somehow.

"She's still... sensitive. So be nice."

"I have never not been nice to her."

"Never said you have." Lucy Gray raises an eyebrow at him. "I meant be careful. She may not want to talk to you. I won't tell her you're coming so I can at least get her out the door."

"Why not?" Coryo asks, immediately knowing how stupid that sounds when Lucy Gray lets out a laugh. "I mean, I don't want to scare her off, so she should know. Please be honest with her." He pleads.

Lucy Gray's eyes soften at that. "Okay, you're right. But I'm not tellin' you if she says no. You still have to come." She points at him and he sighs.

"Okay, whatever. Sure."

"You're both just rotting and making it worse for yourselves. You need to get out." She says as she walks back inside, leaving him alone to read.

Coryo smiles to himself as he picks the book up again, continuing where he left off even though he's already read it five or six times.

"You're gonna be fine just fine, Y/N/N. I promise." Lucy Gray assures you as you walk down the path toward the forest where the Covey and Sejanus were waiting. With Coryo.

"I won't let him near ya." Lennox adds, kicking a rock aside as he walks in front of you and your friend.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. If you want space, tell him. I talked to him about this. He knows not to push you." Lucy Gray whispers to you and you nod, teeth digging into the softness of your cheek.

"I know." You say quietly, arm wrapped around hers. You loved going to the lake, and you've been a couple of times since you've been back, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't hesitant to bring him with you. If it goes poorly, you don't know if you could ever go back.

"Yeah, I gave him a stern talkin' to. Put the fear of god in him, he'll be on his best behaviour." She giggles.

"You didn't actually scare him, did you?" You laugh nervously.

"Of course I did." She says, but you know she's just joking.

"Is Billy Taupe coming?" You ask her after a moment.

Your friend wrinkles up her nose and shakes her head. "No, lord, no." She chuckles. "He's off with that Mayfair. Real class act, they are."

You giggle, squeezing her arm. You take it as they're broken up, at least for now. "I'm sorry, Lucy Gray." You add and feel her shrug under your grip.

"I'm done with him this time." She tells you, shaking her head. "I can't trust him no more."

"One foot in sea and one on shore." You comment and she looks at you, a smile pulling on her lips as she gently pulls you closer, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"Y/N!" Maude Ivory greets the two of you first, running up and throwing her arms around your waist. You jump slightly at the sudden contact, making every effort to catch her with nothing more than a slight gasp and a smile. "I've missed you!"

"Hello, dear." You chuckle, running your hands over the length of her blonde hair. "It's only been a couple of weeks, and you do know where to find me."

"Your friend has a gift for you, come on." She grins, letting you go only to grab your hand and pull you up the rest of the hill.

When Coryo sees you, his instinct is to push his hair back out of his face. That can't happen, so he settles for shifting on his feet and gripping the flower he's holding in his hand as you avoid his gaze and he avoids your brothers. Of course you would hide from him- he doesn't fault you for it. You were nervous, he could tell. And of course Lucy Gray neglected to tell him that Lennox was coming, though, he understood why.

He just wished you were angry at him. That would be far preferable to you being afraid.

"Y/N, hi." Sejanus greets you and you smile at him, giving a quiet wave as you adjust your bag over your shoulder. You packed your book and a blanket with some cherries you picked from the tree behind your house to share with everyone. You can see in your peripheral vision that Coryo has gotten a haircut, but you can't bring yourself to look at him just yet. Or comment on it.

"Alright, let's get movin'! The sun is only up for so long." Lucy Gray claps, not forcing you to have to say hi to Coriolanus before she's urging the group on.

Coryo looks at you as everyone else starts walking, and you nod through everyone to go ahead of you. You hate the idea of having people behind you that you can't see.

Then, finally, your eyes land on him. He smiles, hoping you would want to walk with him.

"Go ahead." You say softly, quickly looking up ahead and Lennox has stopped to wait for you.

"Oh, uh, this is for you." Coryo takes a step closer, holding the yellow daisy out to you that he picked on the walk out. Apparently, you didn't want to walk with him- you just didn't want him behind you. That was a thousand times worse.

You look down at it for a moment, reminding yourself quickly to take it instead of just staring. "Thank you." You reply quietly, delicately plucking the flower from his hold.

"Yeah, of course." He grins, not wanting to give up your attention just yet. "I... I'm really glad you agreed to come."

"It'll be nice. The lake is beautiful." You tell him, glancing over at your brother.

"Come on!" He calls out, impatient. "They're gonna leave us in the dust."

You hold back a sigh as you feel Coryo's eyes on you. You guess you will be walking with him, after all. "Coming!" You smile at him.

It's fine- he's fine. He won't hurt me.

You look up at Coryo, and his eyes are still on you. "Shall we?" He grins, gesturing to the path ahead of you.

Okay, he looks normal. His eyes are normal. Blue, sky blue. Gentle.

"Let us go." You grin at him, holding tightly onto the strap of your bag as it rests across your chest. You look back down at your feet as you walk, mindful of the roots and sticks that may trip or scratch you. You spare a glance at his feet as he joins your side on the narrow path.

Lucy Gray knew that even with her warning that Coryo would likely corner you, but she kept a close eye on you even from up ahead while she talked to Sejanus and practically dragged Lennox along with them so he would give you at least a little bit of space.

You walk in silence for a long time. The trees get thicker as you separate from the meadow and the town, isolating you only further, but you didn't feel unsafe. Not really.

Coryo would take what he could get, but he had to try to talk to you eventually. When he planned out this trip in his head the night before they were set to board the train, he had hoped that the days and nights would be spent together. That you'd say you understood, that you were happy and okay and yes! You would love to take him to the lake you frequented, just the two of you, and 'Oh, we should bring a picnic and just spend the whole day there. It will be so much fun!' And he'd get to see your smile without it quickly fading and he could hold your hand and get that second kiss that he never thought he would receive and everything would be perfect.

He never considered himself much of a dreamer, but something about you made that change. After he got to feel his lips on yours, then on the soft skin of your shoulder and his hands on your waist or locked in yours, there was no going back. He was all yours.

"So," He starts talking after only about an hour of walking. You were almost there, so you took a sharp breath in. You could talk for forty minutes. You could do it. And you wanted to, you remind yourself. "This is quite a hike, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes." You nod. "But we aren't far out now. It's worth it, I promise." You say, eyes still locked on the ground just in front of you.

"Don't get me wrong, it's a beautiful walk, just... long." He comments. "And lots of bugs."

"Yes..." You chuckle nervously.

"What's it like?" He asks, desperate just to continue to hear your voice,

"The lake?" You ask, risking a look up at him. His lips form into a smile and he nods, urging you on. "Well," You swallow, trying to organize every detail you remember from last summer, before the games. "The water is very blue, and quite clear. There's a dock, we have the most fun jumping off of it."

Coryo watches your expression intently, trying to inhale every word. You pause, and your face lights up with remembered joy. "My Pa put a rope swing up here for us kids when we were young, and a few summers ago I went to take it- I climbed as far back up as I could before jumping. Then, I felt the branch jerk and I grabbed it tighter, it ended up wrapped around my leg on the way down and I got stuck." You recall the injury, but you're almost laughing. "I got this massive red burn all up the inside of my thigh, and then Lennox ripped the thing down." You giggle, and Coryo swallows. "He was joking, just pretending to even though it was my own fault, but the branch broke clean off and me and Lucy Gray tried to jump out of the way and ended up falling straight into the water."

He laughs with you at that, shaking his head. "Well, I hope your leg wasn't serious." He watches you and you're quick to shake your head.

"No, gosh no." You giggle. "Not worth pulling the whole thing down over, but it wouldn't have been kind to the next kid who swung- that's for sure. So it was probably for the best."

"Fair enough." He shrugs, eyes still glued onto you.

"I'd rather get a burn then have that big ol' thing fall on Maude Ivory or CC. They were just little at the time." He nods. That sounds just like you.

"So you've been friends for a long time, I take it?"

"Well, yes. Since they got stuck here, pretty much."

"Stuck here?" Coryo asks, looking up ahead at the group that was still just within sight.

You look up as well, just to make sure they weren't in earshot. "The Covey isn't District." You explain, voice lowered. "They used to travel everywhere to perform, but then when they got here peacekeepers rounded them up. Executed all their parents, and the kids got stuck here." You tactically leave out the part about his father being the commanding officer at the time.

"Oh."

"I think that's why Lucy Gray can't get over Billy Taupe." You add quietly, watching your friend as she laughs with Sejanus up ahead. "He's one of them, they have so much history. They're on and off, but she'll never abandon him. Not when they've been through so much together. They're the oldest- they've had to take care of the rest of them for almost their whole lives."

Coryo doesn't know what to say. "That's... yeah. I can imagine it would be hard to move on when they're so tied to each other."

You hum in agreement. "Anyway, we met when they were begging outside the market. They set their instruments up and were playing for tips just so they could eat, so my parents stopped and invited them for dinner. They've been with us ever since."

"Your parents are really good people." He comments.

You look up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I told you that, didn't I?"

"Well, you told me they weren't rebels. That doesn't mean they're saints." He jokes.

"Feels like anyone less than a saint these days is considered a rebel for one reason or another." You argue, but there's no harshness at all behind your tone.

"Regardless, your parents are safe." He says, hoping that you've forgotten about his father being a peacekeeper general.

"Well, thank you." You laugh slightly, shaking your head. "How is Tigris, by the way? And your Grandmother? Have you spoken to them since you've been away?"

"I've called a few times, yeah. They're doing well." Coryo smiles. "Tigris is taking some time off, she's working on some different projects at home."

"I'm glad to hear that." You smile. "They must be missing you."

"So they say, yeah." He chuckles.

"It's hard to be away from home." You tell him. "I know it all too well."

His smile drops steadily, but he just nods. "Yes. At least I have the guarantee of returning."

You try so hard to steer every conversation you have away from the games, but it never seems to work. People have so many questions, so many comments, and it's a shame that Coryo is no exception. You suppose that was inevitable. He's one of very few people who somewhat know what you went through.

You really wish you had met him some other way.

"I'm sorry." He quickly apologizes, sensing your shifted energy. "That was... I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no. It's okay." You insist. "I just... Everyone wants to talk about it all the time. I can't escape it."

"I should have known better. I'm sorry." He says again, taking in a deep breath. "I wanted to be different. I try so hard to not make you think about it and I should have remembered that before I said anything, I just-"

You shake your head, frowning as you look up at him. "I wouldn't expect you to." You tell him. "If I'm honest, you're the one person I think I am okay with discussing it with."

Coryo has to fight back the smile threatening to pull at his cheeks from the relief. You weren't planning on never talking to him again. This was a great sign. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears shouting from up ahead.

"We made it!" Lucy Gray cheers, and sure enough, he can see the lake appearing through the trees.

"Coryo, you gotta see this!" Sejanus's voice follows.

"We made it." You smile, happy to change the subject. "Come on, the water is going to feel so good."

Then, you're jogging up ahead of him and pulling your bag off to leave on the dock.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie , @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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marvelouslizzie · 2 years ago

Text

No One Else Matters

Summary: Things between you and Bucky Barnes have been going great until an Avengers dinner party reminds you of that one night you spent with Steve Rogers. Now you are afraid that the meaningless past hook-up might jeopardize your future with Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, secret relationship, alcohol consumption but no one is drunk, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (on birth control and clean), begging, pet names, dirty talk, mentions of past hook up with Steve Rogers, eavesdropping, no mention of y/n

A/N: Another random idea that turned into a one-shot thanks to my amazing friends. Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Also, some lines belong to her because she helped shape the story and I appreciate it a lot!

This story isn't any form of Steve Rogers hate. I just wanted to write a story like this and it wouldn't work with anyone else besides Steve. If you don't want to read a story where Steve is a past hook-up that didn't work out well, please stay away from the story.

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me. I would love to answer questions or start a conversation as long as it doesn't include any kind of hate.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Coming to this Avengers dinner might have been a big mistake. Essentially you were looking forward to this night because it had been a while since you saw your co-workers. Some are more like friends than co-workers, but working for SHIELD keeps everyone busy. Small events like this help people to get together, catch up and maybe plan other stuff for the future, but tonight feels somewhat different.

You were enjoying yourself until you saw Bucky and Steve casually chatting on the other side of the room. That doesn’t happen very often and it reminds you of things you'd rather not think about. Things that happened years ago. Like that one time, you hooked up with Steve. It was buried so deep into your memory, you simply forgot about it and it’s not like you see Steve that often. Occasionally, his team asks for your help and you try to do your best. And you have been nothing but friendly to each other since that night. You remember him taking it pretty well when you said you’d rather stay friends with him. He probably wasn’t looking for a relationship anyways.

It was before everyone found out HYDRA was nesting inside SHIELD for years. He was simply the golden boy. The first Avenger who unexpectedly returned. A savior. Everyone was in awe of him and tried to be their best version. It felt like a fairytale came true.

The problem is whenever people make an idol of someone expectations go over the roof. And when you meet that person, see what they are like up close, you just notice he’s just like anyone else. Even though they didn’t do anything wrong or bad, it still feels somehow disappointing.

He was different than what you expected him to be. You noticed that pretty quickly and decided to keep things professional. It worked out amazingly until… now. You look around, trying to calm yourself down, keeping that memory to yourself because this is definitely not the time to bring it up.

When the dinner finally starts, it turns out to be a good distraction. You chat with whoever is around you about recent missions, the latest gossip, and things SHIELD is planning to do in the near future. But your eyes keep wandering towards Bucky, who is seated across the table. It’s a huge relief to see Steve and him aren’t seated together or even close to each other. Everyone knows they used to be good friends, but that’s not the case anymore. Since Bucky is back to himself and started to work for SHIELD, things went downhill for their friendship. They slowly drifted apart.

You try hard not to glance back at him again, but he’s looking at you. That makes things even harder. You notice how his lips form a small smile whenever your eyes meet and how he tries to play it off as something he did because of his conversation. But you know his smile is caused by you and even though you don’t want to accept that, it melts your heart a little more.

After the dessert is served, people start to focus on their drinks more. Different groups are forming, and when you want to take check on Bucky, he quickly tilts his head to the right, signaling you to leave the room and meet him. You look around to see if anyone noticed, but no one’s focus is on you two.

You do nothing but watch him discreetly walk away first, without waiting for an answer. He knows you will follow. And that’s exactly what you do: you place your empty glass on the counter and leave the room as subtly as he did. What you don’t notice is that someone actually has been watching you very closely.

You have no idea where Bucky went exactly, so you start to wander around, trying to guess where he’d choose to hide until he grabs you with his arm, pulling you inside an empty room before quickly locking the door.

“Bucky!” A half-yelp leaves your lips, but it’s muffled by his hand.

“It’s me,” he whispers against your ear before he starts to kiss your neck sloppily. “Relax.”

He doesn’t waste any time. His hands are everywhere on your body: grabbing your breasts over the clothes, squeezing your ass.

“I missed you.” His breathy whisper gives you goosebumps.

“Oh, I missed you, too.” You grab his face with both of your hands and finally kiss him properly. He happily sighs and lets you take control. His lips are soft, tasting like bourbon, which surprises you because he is usually a beer kind of guy. Maybe he decided to try something different tonight since he isn’t the one paying.

That reminds you of the party and everyone inside. Including Steve Rogers. Bucky’s ex-best friend. And that make the anxious feeling in your gut returns. You need to tell him about what happened between you and Steve. Even if you’re afraid that it would change everything between you two. But you aren’t ready to lose him. Not when you’ve just started to realize how strong your feelings are for him.

He doesn’t fail to notice the shift in your mood. You aren’t as present in the kiss as if you have something on your mind. He stops kissing you unexpectedly, making you give him a confused look.

“Are you okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

You take a deep breath. Maybe it’s just better to tell him now and get it over with. What’s the point of delaying the inevitable?

“I gotta tell you something.”

You see how his concern grows even more. His expression is serious and full of worry.

“Do you want to break this off? Is that what it is?”

God, the way he asked that question just hurts something inside you. He sounded so broken, so afraid.

“No, no! Of course not.” You quickly clear the air, leaving no space for any kind of misunderstanding. “But you might wanna break things off with me after I tell you… this.”

You can see how your words confuse him. He squints, trying to understand what you are talking about and coming up with a reasonable explanation. You know whatever he’ll think about won’t be even close to the reality, but you didn’t expect his response either.

“Are you pregnant? Is that why you are nervous?” His hand caresses your cheek as he asks you. “You know I wouldn’t leave you for something like that, right? We can do whatever you want. It’s totally up to you.”

No, you aren’t pregnant. That’s not even a possibility. You’ve been on birth control even before you two started to have sex. Still, hearing his soft-spoken words makes you melt inside.

“No, baby, I’m not pregnant.”

You both take a breath after eliminating another possibility. He looks at you fora few seconds, trying to decide if he should say it or not.

“Is it about you dating Steve?”

Words can’t describe how surprised you are. Questions flood your mind instantly. How much does he know? When did he find out? Who told him? And dating? No, you definitely did not date Steve Rogers. God, you have so many questions to ask. You don’t know where to start.

“You know about that.” It comes out more like a question than a statement. The shock is so clear in your voice.

“Of course, I know.”

“How? When?” The questions come out one after another and make him smile a little. You stop yourself from asking even more and decide to make one thing clear. “And I did not date him. It was a one-time thing.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. Maybe he thought it was more serious, but if so why didn’t he bring it up before?

“When did you find out?” You have to know.

“Not so long ago.”

“Who told you?”

“Sam. He thought there was some kind of tension between you two, but I couldn’t see it. So he explained.” He doesn’t sound like it bothers him much, which is relieving.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same.”

He’s right. He can ask the same question. Your answer is simple, though.

“I actually forgot it happened.” Is he really smiling? “It wasn’t that memorable to me.”

“That bad, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh. God, you love him so much. You were worried sick about how he would react and here he is joking about it.

“Do you want an actual answer?” You finally ask.

“Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t seem to mind.

“It was okay.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “So it was bad.”

“Like I said, not memorable.” You choose to repeat. You don’t wanna disrespect him that much, but you don’t even remember much about it. That was one of the reasons you wanted to stay friends anyway.

“Doll, it’s fine.” He finally decides to answer you seriously.

“So you don’t mind?”

“It was way before us. It’s not my place to judge you for it.”

That’s a huge relief. You were so worried he would just choose some kind of bro code over you but no. He chose you. You breathe out with a smile on your face.

“And if someone is gonna get judged for their past, it’s not gonna be you.”

You instantly frown because you understood immediately what he meant by it.

“That’s not the same thing. I chose to hook up with him. You didn’t choose to get brainwashed.”

“Yeah, of course, but I am the one who killed those people.”

“Bucky, no.” You touch his chest, trying to comfort him without realizing it. “Don’t go there. Please. That’s not a fair comparison.” You want him to be free of this guilt. He’s trying to redeem himself so hard, it has to end somewhere.

“Fine.” He finally accepts it. “I don’t care about your past. I only care about your present and future. Is that better?”

“Yes, it is better.” You wrap your arms around his neck and close the distance. “You are always so forgiving, yet you are so harsh to yourself.”

“As long as you are mine, I don’t care about anything.”

That does it. An unexpected jolt of arousal overwhelms you. Suddenly, you don’t feel shy anymore.

“Can you…” You try to collect your words. “Can you fuck me like you did the last time?” Asking that out loud feels a little weird. Maybe you should’ve drunk a bit more.

You watch as his eyes widen in response. Oh, he wants that as much as you do. No need to feel shy.

“Which position exactly?” He sounds so cheeky, but you can see his question is genuine. He needs additional info because it wasn’t a one-and-done.

“Against the wall.” You bit your lip, remembering how good it felt. So rough, yet so full of pleasure. You can’t help but shiver when you remember that orgasm.

“Fuck.” He surpasses a moan. “We have to be quiet, doll. Can you do that for me?” His voice is really low.

You eagerly nod in response. You aren’t sure if you can actually do it, but you will try your best if he’s going to do what you asked for.

“God, I love you so much.” You can’t hold yourself back anymore. Hearing those words from him sparks something unstoppable inside you. Grabbing him by the face, you crash your lips against him.

“I love you, Bucky.” You keep kissing him. “So much.” Your hands move south, unbuckling him as quickly as possible.

Your movements are rushed but not sloppy. Like you did this a million times before. It feels familiar, but it doesn’t change how much you need him. Urgently. And he doesn’t seem to mind that your act as if you are in a hurry. When you finally unbutton his pants, they pool around his ankles, and that’s when he decides to lift you up. His hands stay under your ass while he presses you against the wall, your dress already curled up around your waist.

“Are you ready for me, doll?” He asks with that voice he uses when he’s really aroused. It turns you on even more and you didn’t know that was possible.

“Yes.” You want him inside you so much. You need his lips on you. “Please, Bucky, I need you.”

“You do?” Oh, youknow this tone too well. He loves to tease you and make you talk more about what you want, and it’s always so rewarding. So you don’t hold back.

“Please, fuck me, I need your cock so badly.” Even though it’s dimly lit inside the room, you see the shift in his eyes. Your words are feeding some kind of primal need inside him. “I need you, baby, please. I’m so wet.”

“Let’s see if that’s true.” He holds you with one hand and aligns himself to your entrance with the other. You shouldn’t be surprised by how strong he is, but every time he manages to astonish you. He doesn’t even struggle to carry or hold you. When he finally thrusts inside you, a loud moan escapes your lips. The stretch is so fucking delicious. “Shh.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You quickly try to apologize. “It just feels ssso good.” A low moan follows your words.

“You know I love to hear you, doll.” He starts moving. “I love how you always beg for more.” His free hand goes to your head, pushing a strand of hair back so he can see your face better. “But this time we need to keep it quiet. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.”

That makes him smile. You wrap your hands around his neck again, wanting to be close to him. That’s when you both hear a sound really close to you. So close that you feel like it came right at the door. You both still for a second, listening to find out if someone is outside, but there’s no more sound. So that noise is long forgotten in a minute.

You don’t even care if someone is outside. You don’t care if someone hears you fucking. Bucky Barnes loves you. No one else matters. Your lips clash against his. It’s such a sloppy kiss, but you love every second of it. His hand moves to your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound on you.

“Is this how you wanted it?” He keeps asking, wanting you to speak, but you can't. “Is it that good you went speechless?”

You nod eagerly.

“Come on, darling. Use your words.” He’s moving relentlessly, taking your breath away with each stroke.

“Yes.” You finally manage to say. “Oh god, yes.”

“Yes to what?” He taunts you. “Is that what you wanted or is it that good?”

“Both!” You say louder than you intended, then you remember you promised to be good and you lower your voice. “Yes to both!”

“Good girl.” His flesh hand travels to your neckline. He quickly pushes the straps of your dress down more, finally revealing your breasts. You aren’t wearing a bra, thanks to the padded dress. “God, look at you.” He marvels at you. “Such a pretty little doll. All mine.”

His mouth latches on your right breast, sucking and biting it while he keeps moving. He knows how to use his mouth well everywhere. It makes everything so much better. You can feel that pleasure starts to bottle up, your abdomen tensing.

Oh, he truly knows how to get you there. He knows how much you love it when you two climax together. It feels heavenly… like you are in your own little world and there’s no one but him there. Nothing else matters. As your legs start to shake with overwhelming pleasure, you imagine going back inside, talking to others while his come is dripping out of you. No one would know what you two were up to. Not a single soul. It’s your little secret. The thought makes you moan a little bit louder. Your hands grip hard on his shoulders.

Bucky moans right next to your ear. “God, you feel so good.” His hands are gripping hard on your ass. “I wish I can stay inside you forever. I don’t wanna move. I don’t wanna go anywhere else. I just wanna keep fucking you, until you beg me to stop.” Does he know what his words do to you? Does he notice how it amplifies your orgasm? Or does he just say whatever he wants to say? “I’m gonna come.” He warns you. “I’m gonna come, baby. I’m gonna come.”

You ride your orgasms together, as he empties himself inside you. His head falls on your shoulder while he keeps holding you. His lips press against the crook of your neck. While you keep taking deep breaths, you can feel his heart racing.

“Are you okay?” He asks while moving away enough to take himself out of you.

“Okay?” You question as he gently puts you on your feet. “I feel amazing.”

You lift yourself on your tiptoes and give him a full wet kiss.

“Now I believe you.” He gives you a little smile that only makes you want to kiss him again.

“I’ll be louder when we go home so you won’t have an ounce of doubt.”

“Yours or mine?” His question comes instantly.

“I don’t care.” You really don’t. All you want is him. Where, when, and how are just details.

He helps you shape your hair back to normal while you pull the stripes up. Your underwear is a mess and you are dripping out already. Bucky takes a napkin out of his pocket and kneels in front of you. He gently pushes the serviette between your folds, cleaning you up enough so you can go back inside.

“Thank you.” You love it when he takes care of you like this. “But you know that won’t be enough. I will keep dripping all night.”

“I’m counting on that.” You can see on his face how much that thought excites him. “Keep dripping onto your underwear while talking to others. Remember what we did here. Imagine what we will do later.” He stands up while you fix your dress and you realize that you can’t wait to leave this party already.

“You have such a dirty mouth. I love it.” You grab his face with one hand and just force him to kiss you. Not that you can actually force him to do anything, but he lets you anyway. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

It’s been a while since you returned to the party. Everything seems normal. No one even realized you were absent. No one is suspecting anything. That encourages you to look around for Bucky. When your eyes meet, he gives you a teasing smile while casually chatting with Sam.

The whole night you didn’t say a word to him. Not around other people. But you don't see any reason to keep avoiding him. Everyone knows you two are friendly. So you decide to walk over and chat a little.

“Oh, look who remembered us!” Sam jokes as soon as he notices you.

“Hello to you too, Sam.” You don’t mind his teasing. “Good to see you missed me.”

“Hey.” Bucky raises his beer bottle to casually greet you. He probably got tired of the bourbon.

“How are you, fellas?”

“Oh you know, missions and drinks. Same stuff,” Bucky answers your question.

“Nothing new?” You tease him, just to see how he would react.

“Nope. Just little old me doing the same things.”

“Really, I keep telling him to go on a date or something but no. He prefers this misery instead.”

You try to surpass a smile forming on your lips, well aware of the exact reason why he’s declining the offer.

While you’re staring at each other, Sam notices Steve on the other side of the room and raises his hand.

“Hey, Rogers!”

That’s definitely the last thing you need tonight, but there’s no way you can stop Sam. Steve joins your group in a couple of seconds, but for some reason, he looks… kinda miserable.

“You alright, man?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He absently answers. “I’m fine. Feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Maybe that super serum is finally wearing off.” Sam jokes and it manages to make Steve smile for a second.

“How are you all?” Steve asks while looking at the whole group, but his eyes stay on you for a bit longer than the rest.

“Oh, we are fine. We were talking about the lack of Mr. Barnes’s dating life.”

God, he isn’t going to let that go, is he?

“Speaking of dating…” Sam continues while taking his phone off. “I met this guy the other day and he’s perfect for you!” Is he talking to you? He shows you a photo of this blonde guy who honestly looks alright, but he’s practically a stranger. “He’s a good guy and he fits your type. I can give your his number if you want.”

“What the fuck, Sam?” Your response makes the rest laugh. “You are playing matchmaker now?”

“I mean… someone gotta do it and I was hoping you would find someone to return the favor for me.”

You look at Bucky just to see he’s kind of enjoying this while Steve looks thoughtful for some reason.

“That’s definitely not my type.”

“Really?” Sam side-eyes Steve for a second to see his reaction, but it’s like he already knew that.

“And I am already seeing someone, so…”

“Wait a second!” Sam sounds surprised. “You are seeing someone? Since when?”

“Why are you so surprised? You thought I would inform you about my love life or something?” Bucky is laughing quietly on the side, and Sam looks a little uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. I thought you were single. You are already off the market, huh?”

Bucky subtly nods to his last comment but doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, it seems so.” You put your drink on the nearest surface and stretch your neck a little.

“Tired?” Bucky asks this time.

“Yes. I’m thinking about leaving. Maybe I should call an Uber or something.” You make a move to take your phone out.

“Actually… I was considering the same thing. I can drop you home, you can save up the money.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to offer to leave with you. Usually, one of you leaves first and the other follows, but maybe after tonight's events, he decided that there’s no reason to hide anymore. “Sure, that'd be great.”

You see Sam rolling his eyes. “There go hours of effort.”

“You wanted to leave before?” It’s obvious you are talking to Bucky.

“No, not really, but he assumes that and tries to talk me into staying every time.” You start to laugh. It’s not hard to imagine why Sam thinks he’d rather be somewhere else.

“Sorry, Sam, but we are old. Apparently we need more sleep.” You are mocking yourself and Bucky at the same time, wondering how he’ll react.

“He is old, but you… not so much.”

“My soul is old and that’s enough.” You raise both of your hands and wave a goodbye. “Anyways, time to go. Good to see both of you.” Your thumbs and index fingers move around like two guns pointed at Sam and Steve.

“Good night,” Bucky simply adds.

While you two quietly walk away, Sam is already suspecting something is up.

“Did I drink too much or is there something going on between them?” Sam asks when you are far enough not to hear it.

“They are together.” Steve tries to sound as casual as possible.

“Wait! Really?” He thought something was just blooming between you two, not a full on relationship. “How do you know?”

“I heard them.” Steve notices how it sounds and quickly adds: “Talking.”

“And you are okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure.” That doesn’t sound convincing at all. “It’s not my place to say anything. It was never that serious.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince Sam or himself. “I mean… I think she’d want to get serious, but she talked about staying friends and I jumped on the opportunity and agreed because I didn’t want a relationship.”

Sam nods. “Well, good for them I guess. They seem like a good match.”

“They really do.”

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nexility-sims · 6 months ago

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SIM DONATION DRIVE: "1992" EDITION

i need to fill in leonor's 1990s dating history for story reasons, so i am soliciting sims from you wonderful, talented, generous people. if you'd like to donate someone, check out THIS FORM ♥️

for guidelines, see below, & let me know if you have questions !

i want to fill in leonor's dating history for the period from roughly 1993 to 1998. i'd like to have these exes attend her big, giant, extravagant wedding in 2001; i will be doing some Yet To Be Planned media coverage of said dating history (something like this stuff). as a treat, because i love to take pictures of other people's sims, i'll probably do some random photoshoots like these as well :^) [you can have leonor's files for your own purposes, if you so desire.]

i have no idea how many sims y'all're gonna donate or if they'll all be the same level of compatible, so: i'll try to incorporate as many as i can but, realistically, would have to choose if there are more than 5-6 options. this isn't a bachelorette challenge, so it would theoretically be based on which characters make sense for leonor and the timeline.

not all of the form's questions are required, but more detail is welcome ! entirely up to you how much fleshing out you'd like to do beyond the basics. i provided vague prompts, some which are optional, so ... go wild or don't ! if you want to discuss any of it before you submit the form (or after), then please don't hesitate to reach out.

your sims can be from uspana or somewhere else, btw. if they're not from uspana, they might be from the fictional country your story is set in, generic Simerica™, literally anywhere else ... if you don't state it, i'll just make something up that feels convenient sdjhfs they can be existing characters or new ones you create for this purpose; it's all up to you !

i am assuming you're familiar with the spinoff story OR leonor as a character, in some way or shape or form. you may know the story better than i do or have scrolled her tag on my blog earlier today for the very first time or somewhere in between. either way ... a little familiarity would help, i imagine !

leonor's existing love interests include: arturo, a very sweet and thoughtful son-of-a-politician (circa 1986-1990); renzo, a very famous actor who loves music and cutoff shorts and doing drugs (1991-1992); andre, a very happily married and painfully shy father of three who also happens to currently be his country's king (1992, 2016–); dan, a very chill tech founder who enjoys, like, space travel and wearing fanny packs and letting his wife do affairs and stuff, whom she marries in 2001 (circa 1998–).

leonor doesn't have a type, and there are no gender restrictions. she likes people who are interesting—peculiar, even. she's a wealthy princess and a government employee by 1993-1994, so that may affect either your sim's occupation and / or the necessity of a "how'd they meet" backstory. her birth year is 1970, and she’s more likely to go for agemates or older rather than younger people (at least while in her twenties, anyway). she could theoretically reconnect with anyone post-2001 but pre-2016 on account of the open marriage, although that feels unlikely / case-by-case.

okay, that's all i got for now ... thanks for reading this far !

#i have no idea why the logo has Baseball vibes sdjhfs #bonus 500 points to whoever submits a baseball player #it's based on who wants to be a millionaire but #n.form #ch.leonor

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riacte · 1 year ago

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Space Opera AU dashboard simulator

🥧 syrupstars Follow

Anyone else think that Red King racer is a little... y'know... fruity?

👑 falsewellsupremacy Follow

He literally says "ladies, gentlemen, everyone in between, get in line" so I think that answers your question.

🥧 syrupstars Follow

What about the "#Ally4Life 🏳️‍🌈" on his Twilight handle?

👑 falsewellsupremacy Follow

I genuinely have no idea. Maybe he thinks it's about him being an ally to cishet people

#idk ren's just like that sometimes #void knows what he's doing #also prev tags you do not want to get into the black hole of who ren has dated #he has rumours with 3/4 of the grid #edit: WHO MENTIONED BAD BOY TEENAGE REN IN MY NOTES #the shippers are here... oh no #edit 2: not ren at the club.

74 notes

🛑 bluebatshater Follow

oh my voiddd ofc That Duo got p1 again... i need them to dnf in the race. i hope they crash and burn and die and i need crastle to get podium for ONCE. i am so mad. i am calling for the goddess tsuki to curse them. dnf dnf crash burn DIE

🌻 lesbianlumian Follow

the goddess tsuki LITERALLY protects racers and that's why they pray to her? you think the goddess tsuki, creator of lumians, will curse an actual lumian? be so fucking fr

🛑 bluebatshater Follow

if you dont have anything productive to say get off my post. freak

#those blue bats stannies are SO ANNOYING THEY ARE EVERYWHERE #they're overshadowing all the other teams #cant even be a bitchy hater in peace #salt #negativity #hateposting

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🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

OMG FALSE IS SO PRETTY SHES MY QUEEN OF HEARTS OMG OMGOMGOGM 💖💖💖💖💖💖 i tihnk im gonna pass out. HER HAIR FLYING IN THE WIND AND HER RED FRECKLES AND HER SMILE WHY IS MY HEART BEATING SO FAST and Ren is hot I guess he's tall like a ferris wheel

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

Looking at posts from five years ago is funny like how did I ever believe I was straight

🍦 jelliepopsicle Follow

OP, I think I recognise your url... did you write that viral Bad Boy Ren x QoH fic on Launchpad?

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

💀 Shut the fuck up right NOWWW!!

#STOP MENTIONING THAT FIC I WFOTE WHEN I WAS THIRTEEEN!!! #everything before my gay awakening is not canon. sorry #tbh... as much as a nightmare it was i kinda miss that stupid fic #it was from a simpler time #now im in university trying to contact my groupmates and i think one of them got lost in a blackhole last tuesday (again) #sigh. this keeps on happening to me #my cousin worked on one of the moons last summer for two weeks and came back like he'd aged six months #my friend's ex got sucked into a black hole and was briefly spaghettified but they managed to revive her and she gloats that she's finally taller than my friend's ex #whoops sorry for dumping in the notes #anyways. bad boy rk x good girl queen of hearts. awful idea. even more awful fic. yet i wrote it #i regret everything and nothing

25 notes

🗣️ peace-and-planets-deactivated63891092

PSA: Sunblr user @/summerheavens writes RPF of the Exterra 1 racers. She is a big name fan in the Miraculous Laserbug fandom so I thought you all would like to know. This is gross and disgusting behaviour and I implore you to stop.

🍬 summerheavens Follow

umm @/peace-and-planets i literally saw your kudos on my fic. the evidence is out there. girl what are YOU doing at the devil's sacrament. what are you doing on my roseduo rpf titled "hang your head low in the glow of the vending machine (we're not trying)".

but i'm glad you liked it enough to give it a kudos ^_^ will certainly be putting more on the starchive!

❄️ justwingit Follow

LMFAOOOO OP DEACTIVATEDDDDD 😭😭😭 sunblr user got killed by a rpf author. if you're gonna secretly read rpf maybe not leave a kudos?????

🚀 exterrablrheritage

Exterra 1 Heritage Post

⚡ littlewoodbabygirl69

It's been ten years since this post... @/summerheavens are you okay after recent developments

🍬 summerheavens Follow

am i okay? is ANYONE okay??? in these trying times??????? with the most chaotic gp to ever exist?????? i am PULLING OUT WIPS i dropped out of respect ten years ago. i've got to send my kid to daycare but once i'm done you bet you're seeing me on the starchive. miss swift even dropped her 20th album just in time for me to use lyrics as titles. i am LIVING and i am THRIVING

#ohhhhhhhhhh #let's go #also can't believe taylor finally addressed the vehicle manslaughter rumours from like twenty years ago #how fitting #also littlewood needs to get his shit together #why does he look like he's the one who hasn't seen his man in 32738102371 years and got his soul shattered #he's weak and won't survive the winter

27,408 notes

🧈 butteredbread Follow

WHAT is wrong with that lykos. i desire him carnally

🌳 treebark

@/handoftheking

🪓 handoftheking

I mean... yeah. Let's face it, we're all like that 🤷

⭐ nonbinarystar Follow

MR LITTLEWOOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

#WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM #I HATE HIM SO MUCH #PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIPS CAN ALSO BE ABOUT HATE #THIS GLOWSTICK MF IS MY WORST ENEMY #he just canonised treebark for the sixth time #also prev tags so real #need to slingshot him into a faraway galaxy

34,091 notes

🫃 spaceshipmpreg Follow

Who put that Just a Dream FalseRen AMV on my dash again

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

Respect your roots!! That 125M views Just a Dream AMV raised a generation. Every kid in my school played it on loop on their ipods during recess

🔮 queenofstarz03 Follow

wait op can you explain your url

🫃 spaceshipmpreg Follow

No 👍

#i think we should get the dogwarts freighter pregnant

6 notes

#long post #space opera au #queenofstarz03 my beloved space internet npc #idk..... i lost my mind making this #was fun tho #girl help im stuck at the devils sacrament. im building the devil's sacrament #treebark #trafficshipping #hermitshipping #just in case #dashboard simulator #unreality

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sparky-is-spiders · 3 months ago

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Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

#wish there was a way to search for all italicized text in a wordpad document... cause tumblr de-italicized it all lol #anyway jon manages to be an eye-aligned Freak even when the eye doesn't exist #worried this is ooc tbh but fuck it we ball ig.#anyway hope you enjoyed.#i am. i am so unbelievably nervous about posting this in a way that invites the scrutiny of people beyond my trusted mutuals.#anyway i'm personally deeply entertained by the idea of elias trying to be the most boring version of himself possible.#like just for fun. he's having a great time and nobody else is sure that he has a personality. idk it just speaks to me #also i made them accountants because that's my destiny. there are spreadsheets in my future. the stars have spoken.#but that's ok because i like them. they're kinda soothing honestly.#i really enjoyed principals of accounting tbh.#i barely know what i'm typing at this point i'm super tired lmao.#but this isn't about me this is about Them.#jon saw elias (barely talks to anyone. has never mentioned a personal life. primarily focused on Work.) and went 'wow. freakish.#i've never seen this behavior in anyone before. anyway i'm going to avoid speaking w/ my coworkers whenever possible #and move into a storage closet so i can stay late whenever i want.'#elias 100% knows about that btw. i imagine its the sort of thing that would be difficult to hide. he's not gonna say anything tho <3 #anyway sorting tags #jonelias #joneliasweek #joneliasweek2024 #sparkwrites #anyway time for sims4 i think.

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skyrim-forever · 1 month ago

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WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone! It's another Wednesday <3 Thank you to @changelingsandothernonsense for tagging me (love the Josh and Erra updates) I'm tagging @lady-iizsil @dirty-bosmer @theoneandonlysemla @thequeenofthewinter (you've already since this snippet oops) @lucien-lachance

This is a part of a much dark part 2 to this fic, my depraved Thalmor Embassy shenanigans. So this snippet features mentions of things in that fic including: sex, blackmail, voyeurism, the glove (iykyk). Under the cut also has mentions of torture, murder (as speculations) and Rulidnil being even worse (that's definitely present). So yeah, MDNI and read if you're cool with that. Anyways time to tease the horror. Chapter 1 is done and currently being edited, expect to see it soon~ its 6k OOPS

“Theodora.” She almost snaps her neck with how quick her gaze finds him. How did one of them know her name… she had only met one other male Thalmor… Akatosh preserve me. With each step inching closer, her body tenses as the suspicious are concerned.

“Ah, Rulindil.” She grits her teeth. “Fancy running into you here.”

It was none other than the mer who used them for sexual blackmail, first listening into their conversation and other activities at the Embassy, and then demanding to watch them engage in more of these activities. That had been his compromise after being told he could not fuck her himself. Originally Theodora had told Ondolemar she would have done it just to shut him up, but after meeting him, she could see his concerns were not unfounded. Her lover had told her all about how he ended up in the position he occupied now, how his life experiences lead him to serve the Dominion and of how he was harbouring severe doubts. Many of which had come from knowing her. With Elenwen, she could see that although she could be cruel, having been a torturer during the Great War, she understood there were multiple ways to solve a problem. Violence was not the only way to get information, treating people well, good wine and good food, could do wonders and was far easier than bleeding them out. The Ambassador was firm, but fair; at least as far as the Thalmor went.

She didn’t see any of that in Rulindil. Interrogation was not his job, it was his passion. I enjoy making people scream he had told her. Enjoy. There was this pit in her stomach thinking about the fact that even if he was not in the Thalmor, he would likely still be doing that very thing. Perhaps he would be not unlike the Butcher in Windhelm, carving up all manner of people to just hear the sounds they made dying. The screams of those she killed during the war made their way into her nightmares sometimes. How anyone could desire such a sound she hoped to never understand. From the way he shook her hand, less shaking it than grabbing her wrist, grip lingering too long that the mere memory of it caused her to shudder; to the way his sexual degeneracy had no bounds. Stealing a glove that had been inside her. She hoped it was just a trophy, but the sinister look in his gaze now told her that that was decidedly untrue.

“I am freed from the confines of the Embassy for a few nights. Many of us are here, I believe Ondolemar is having a solo meeting with our lovely Ambassador.” Slight panic washes over her face at that. The dark chuckle that comes from him unsettles her even more. “Oh no, it’s not like that, I haven’t said anything. Seems he's been especially productive to the cause lately and is currently getting a rare bout of praise from Elenwen. Isn’t he lucky?” She smiles, happy to hear he’s okay and so that Rulindil stays friendly until she can leave this conversation.

“Very lucky indeed.” She clears her throat, stance facing towards the Temple. “Wonderful to see you again” she lied “but I’m afraid I must be going, I’ve got plans.”

“Your plans don’t include him do they, unless you’re all dressed up for someone else?”

“No, not him nor anyone else. Just going to have some drinks and do a bit of dancing.”

“Perhaps I will join you.” He smirks as he says this, enjoying the uncomfortable look on her face.

“I was planning to go to the tavern here. The Skeever, and I don’t think you’d like to be seen in public with me, least of all places in a grubby Nord tavern.”

“Hmm.” She continues smiling. “Well, you own property here, don’t you? Why don’t we return there instead?” The smile falters.

“How do you know I own property here?” His hand reaches for her hair, she forwent her normal circlet for some wildflowers, to match the embroidery on the new dress. One of the flowers is plucked from her. It twirls between his fingers.

“I know a lot about you.”

“Ondolemar said you were… satisfied.”

“I am satisfied with him, I never said anything about you.” Chest tightens.

“I’ll tell him, you must know that.” Another sick laugh from him made her nauseous.

“And what will he do? Harming a fellow agent is grounds for extreme discipline. Killing me would be certain death. There would be nothing he could do that wouldn’t result in more eyes being drawn to you. Not everyone will be as kind as me.” Kind. The word makes her nauseous. There’s an audible gulp. “All I want is a little time with you, Theodora. Why can he have that and not me?” She wants to tell him why, all the reasons Ondolemar is leagues above him, in every manner from their organization to her affections. But upsetting him is the last thing she wants to do.

“I suppose you’re right. There’s no harm in a few glasses of wine.”

#wip wednesday #mdni #tw: murder mention #tw: sex mention #tw: torture mention #maybe going too heavy on the tagging considering its small #but like i got pstd i try to be careful to others as well #oc: theodora #im sorry girl #ill make it up to you

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the-travelling-witch · 4 months ago

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so i can’t work on my twst x pokémon au (fittingly named a twisted pokémon au) atm since i’m absolutely overwhelmed with irl stuff but i want to share this little headcanon with the attentive ones of you that catch this post

I still haven’t finalised giving each character a team but every now and then I think about it and I know a lot of people give Azul a tentacruel or octillery as a signature pokémon, and I definitely have them written down too, don’t get me wrong, but I had this stupid idea out of nowhere

Picture this: you’re fighting this super tough battle against this cunning opponent and he has all these intimidating water pokemon and you somehow get him down to his last but strongest pokémon. As you wait with bated breath for what kind of ace he will send out next, he throws his pokéball to release… quagsire, arguably one of the least nefarious water types there is (at least visually)

And basically the backstory is that Azul’s had the whooper since he was still a chubby little octopus and it was basically his first real friend who’d stick by his side and wouldn’t bully him, even trying to ‘protect’ Azul from his bullies despite being so small itself (the twins would totally find it hilarious yet strangely adorable), so Azul being the softie he is just can’t not have quagsire on his team, even if it ruins his whole reputation

Tl;dr emotional support quagsire for the business octopus

I mean quagsire isn’t a bad pokemon if you don’t put it in front of a plant (or the opponent has freeze dry), it just ruins the image Azul is trying to establish here. But I think Azul is low-key a softie and I want to believe that quagsire could be the worst mon ever and he’d find some kind of excuse to keep bringing it along (Jade and Floyd just trade knowing smirks as Azul clears his throat and pushes up his glasses)

Speaking of Jade and Floyd, they get to make fun of Azul/ quagsire but if anyone else does it, they’d better start praying to all higher powers they can think of

Imagine quagsire wearing Azul’s dorm uniform hat, being all happy and proud about it ㅠㅠ

(Also quagsire going from this stick thin little guy to a chubby bigger guy kind of parallels Azul’s insecurities if you want to read more into it than I initially considered)

Azul: Should we order dark purple or lilac decorations for Mostro Lounge… What do you think?

Quagsire: :]

Azul: You are so right, a deeper purple would compliment the tableware nicely

or maybe I’ll just give him a tentacruel anyway… though quagsire is also working his way into my heart

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

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Twisted Wonderland: @savanaclaw1996 @honehbee42

A Twisted Pokémon AU: @witch-craft-works @voidlesslove @mochiclouds

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midnightsnyx · 1 year ago

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what if i told you (i love you) part 3 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller!fem reader

chapter summary: with Joel and Ellie still in Jackson, you try to navigate your confusing feelings towards Joel. warnings: small mentions of violence, angst, fluff, swearing I think. let me know if i missed anything please! also this isn't edited at all. if you know tlou and wanna beta this story, that would be lovely <3 word count: 3k masterlist series masterpost ask box tag list form

authors note: thought I abandoned this story? same. so it's been a hot minute, and I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in this story but it's been in the back of my mind and then 3k words poured out of me at work today. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you like it anyways. I'll tag the people who asked, but I know it's been MONTHS so if you want to be removed from the tag list, send me a message and if you want to be added to the list, fill out this form. if you've got any questions, comments or thoughts, my ask box is here or just leave a comment in the notes:). thanks for reading, like & hit that reblog button if you enjoy it🩵

When Jack was first born, you went through a rough time. You were a new mom in a post-apocalyptic world and still trying to get over the betrayal you felt from Joel. You spent many nights at the kitchen table with Maria or Avery, crying or sitting in silence and feeling numb. The hardest nights were when you missed him, because that meant feeling weak and you hated letting yourself feel like you needed him.

Your task of avoiding him during his stay in Jackson is becoming particularly difficult because of the duckling you seem to have acquired. Ellie trails after you nearly anywhere you and Jack go and Joel has no intention of letting Ellie out of his sight for longer than a few hours. A small part of you is jealous that he seems to see the girl as a daughter when he wouldn’t even accept Jack but you can’t blame her, so you let her tag along while pretending Joel isn’t always hovering in the background like a mother hen. During movie night, you seat Jack with Ellie and go stand in the back with the adults. Brad, one of the men around your age immediately comes over and tries to strike up a conversation with you. He’s nice enough, and not hard on the eyes but you never really let yourself make time for dating. You have your hands full with your kid so you just smile politely but entertain him, listening to him talk about going on patrol but tune him out when he begins bragging about taking out a pack of clickers. You know his story isn’t true because Avery was on the same patrol as him and told you when the clickers showed up, he hid while everyone else took care of it.

At some point, you can feel a pair of eyes on you and immediately you know who it is without having to look. You’re trying to ignore it but his eyes feel like they’re burning a hole in your head so you turn to look and as you do, he quickly walks out of the building. You don’t know what comes over you, but you excuse yourself from your conversation with Brad and follow Joel outside. He didn’t go far, you find him leaning against the wall near the door a few feet away, arms crossed and deep in thought. It’s close to impossible to sneak up on him unless he’s feeling safe or is with someone he trusts. You’re apparently neither anymore because his head shoots up as soon as you get close.

He stares at you, mouth opening and closes a few times before he looks back at the ground and scuffing his boot in the dirt. You’ve no idea why you even followed him out here in the first place and after a few more seconds of silence, you start to head back inside but his voice stops you just as it did a few nights ago. He still has this invisible hold on you and you can’t understand why.

“Sarah,” he mumbles so quietly you wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t silent outside. “Her name was Sarah and she was my entire world and she’s gone.”

Tommy had admitted to you on one of your bad nights while he and Maria were trying to comfort you that Joel had lost a daughter. You’d put two and two together after Tommy made the memorial with Maria’s late son and the name Sarah who you knew was neither of theirs.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hating the ache in your chest you feel for him. You can’t imagine losing Jack but you don’t know if you can accept what he is insinuating. You can hear him walk towards you and you fight the urge to leave because as much as you don’t want to be around him, this is the first time he’s opened up to you.

“I thought it’d be replacin’ her,” he mumbles and you realize he means Jack. That accepting another child would mean replacing his late daughter.

You turn around to find him closer than you were expecting and take a step backwards, almost toppling backwards but his arms reach out and catch you. He doesn’t let go immediately, hands firm and steady gripping your arms exactly how you remember. For a moment, neither of you move. It’s as if you’re in a trance and it only breaks when the door flies open and Jack comes running out the door with Ellie chasing after him.

You pull away from Joel, picking up Jack when he reaches for you.

“Mama! The movie’s over,” he says and then frowns. “You were gone.”

“I came out for some fresh air.”

He grumbles and tucks his face in the crook of your neck. “‘S cold,”

You’re about to respond when Joel shrugs his thick brown jacket off and drapes it over Jack but it’s big enough that it covers you as well.

You mumble a quiet thanks, ignoring the curious look Ellie gives you both and bid goodbye to the both of them, promising the girl that you would see her tomorrow.

It was inevitable, you realize, sitting at the table listening to Jack tell Joel and Ellie a story you’d told him too often.

“And-and then the Prince saved the Princess from a huge monster who’s teeth go click click click and then they went to Fred and Bob’s house for dinner!”

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you the entire time Jack is telling them the story. He’s clearly piecing together that this isn’t just some made up story you told your son but a kid-friendly version of something that happened between you and Joel. It was shortly before you left Boston, Joel and yourself going to Bill and Franks for something. You’d been distracted because it was just after you found out you were pregnant and hadn’t told anyone yet and you turned your back for a split second while you were in the wrong place and nearly torn apart by a clicker. Joel had been furious, saying you needed to be more careful but he couldn’t have been that mad because after lecturing you for ten minutes, he’d pinned you against a tree and kissed you until you couldn’t remember your name.

It was one of the last times he had kissed you before you told him you were pregnant and then left Boston.

“Quite a story,” Joel says, looking at Jack who proudly smiles at the older man's comment. “Does the Princess have a name?”

Jack gives you a curious look and when you don’t say anything, he shrugs and looks back at Joel.

“Mama never said.”

Ellie snickers quietly, obviously also realizing that the story is based on actual events. Joel gives her a look but she doesn’t back down despite his glare. She leans towards Jack and grins.

“Do you have any more stories about the Prince and Princess?”

Simultaneously, you and Joel both say “no” a little too loudly which earns the two of you some looks.

“I think it’s time for someone to go to school,” you say, standing up and offering your hand to Jack who grumbles but climbs off his chair and requests to be picked up by you rather than walk. You know you’re probably babying him but he’s growing too quick and soon he won’t want to be carried around by his mom so you’re cherishing every moment.

You chance a look at Joel before you leave and he’s wearing the softest expression you’ve probably ever seen on him and it makes your stomach do somersaults and cheeks warm. It’s probably a bad idea, no it’s definitely a bad idea but when it comes to Joel Miller, you always made bad choices.

“You guys can walk with us if you’d like,” you say and Ellie is out of her chair before you even finish the sentence. Joel looks a little more hesitant but he still doesn’t like going far without the girl in his sight so he follows the three of you outside.

Of course by the time you get to the small school Jackson has, Jack is more than happy to go in and play with his friends. He gives you, Ellie, and a startled Joel hugs before running inside without looking back. You’re grateful that you have a place here where Jack can have as close to a normal childhood one can have in this world. You can’t imagine if you’d stayed in Boston what kind of upbringing he would’ve had. You certainly don’t miss it there, aside from the nights you missed Joel which were far and few in between up until he showed up here. The reason he’s here is still unclear although you have a suspicion Tommy knows more than what he’s told you and even Maria. The length of Joel and Ellie’s stay is also not known. You were expecting them to just need to stop and get supplies before continuing their journey but they’re still here and you have no idea when they’ll be leaving.

You’re not sure what possessed you to invite Joel and Ellie to your little house for dinner but here you are, chopping vegetables to make soup. Jack is still at school and the soup will take time to cook but Ellie insisted on helping you prepare it and Joel said he needed to go see Tommy. It’s kind of nice to have company even if it’s in the form of a fourteen year old. Said fourteen year old has been awfully quiet the past twenty minutes and you can tell she’s wanting to ask you something but is stopping herself.

“Go ahead,” you eventually say, tired of her silence.

“Joel is Jack’s dad, isn’t he?”

You’re so tempted to say no, only for the fact that she obviously looks up to Joel and you don’t know who she would look at as the bad guy. And honestly is the best policy, right?

“Yeah,” you tell her, noticing when her shoulders deflate.

She’s quiet for another five minutes before asking, “Did Joel tell you to leave?”

You’re quick to answer this question because as wrong as what Joel did was, it was your decision to leave Boston and you don’t want to put some wedge between them.

“No, I left because I wanted a better life for Jack.” It’s not a complete lie, Joel is part of why you left but you really did want a better life for your son than what he would’ve had in Boston.

“Alright,” she eventually says and then: “Can you pass me another carrot?”

And that’s that. You both chat about random things, she tells you some terrible puns and you buckle and reluctantly tell her some more stories of when you, Joel and Tess lived in Boston. She tells you that Joel won’t talk about Tess and she feels guilty about her death. You listen quietly, letting her spill out things she must have been holding in knowing Joel didn’t want to hear it.

“I knew Tess really well,” you tell her. “She wouldn’t have done what she did if she didn’t think it was worth it.”

Ellie looks at you hesitantly. “Yeah?”

You nod and she smiles a little before asking if she can come with you to pick up Jack, but you tell her that Avery is going to pick him up and drop him here. Since you’ve got some quiet time, you decide to do some cleaning while Ellie goes to the house she and Joel have been staying at to take a shower.

It’s a couple hours later when there’s a knock on your door and you’re figuring it’s Avery with Jack so when you open the door, you almost drop the broom you’re holding when you see Joel standing in front of you and Jack in his arms. You start to ask why Joel has Jack and where Avery is when you see the woman in question standing at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile on her face.

“We, uh, ran into Mr. Miller on our way here and Jack insisted that he come with us,” she explains but you can’t stop looking at the duo in front of you. Jack is smiling, arms wrapped around Joel’s neck and telling him a story but Joel is watching you warily, like he’s expecting you to yell or something.

“Hi mama,” Jack says but makes no move to leave Joel’s arms. In fact, he looks very pleased that the older man is carrying him.

“Hi baby,” you reply, unsure what to do. You don’t want to upset Jack by taking him from Joel but you can’t tell if the latter is uncomfortable. Avery, sensing the tension, smiles brightly and waves awkwardly.

“I gotta go feed Lucy,” she says, already walking backwards. “See ya, Jack!”

Jack shouts goodbye to Avery and you finally snap out of your stupor, stepping back to let Joel walk inside. He toes off his boots and you’re about to offer to take his jacket when you realize he’s not wearing one because you never gave him it back last night.

“Dinner smells good,” he says, following you to the living room where Jack finally wriggles out of Joel’s arms but only to get a toy to show him.

“Look Mr. Miller,” the boy says, offering a wooden train that you gave him for his birthday. An older gentleman in the town made it for you after hearing Jack talking about how much he loved looking at pictures of trains.

“That’s a really nice train,” Joel compliments, sitting down on the couch. Jack immediately climbs up and settles down next to him, chatting about the toy and you watch as Joel listens intently, nodding at the right times and you remember that he’s done this before, it may have been twenty years ago, but he’s dealt with an excited almost five-year-old.

The front door opening and closing tears your attention away from them and you look to find Ellie walking towards you, shrugging off her jacket. She lays it on the rocking chair and then plops down next to Jack, shooting you a small smile. There’s something in her expression that is sadder than when she left and you wonder if something happened since she left but you don’t bother asking her now. Instead, you go set the table and check the soup to make sure it’s done before calling everyone to the kitchen. Jack makes sure his chair is as close to Joel’s as he can get it so he can keep talking to him.

You have heavily conflicted feelings about the relationship growing between them. On one hand, it’s kind of nice that Jack is getting to know his dad, even if he doesn’t know Joel is his father. On the other hand, if you let Jack get too attached to Joel, it’ll break his heart when he and Ellie leave. So, you decide tonight after Jack is gone to bed and Ellie goes home, you’ll sit Joel down and ask him why he’s here and when he’s leaving.

Of course that doesn’t happen because Ellie and Jack pass out on the sofa after reading every children's book you own and you and Joel end up sitting at the table, drinking some liquor Maria had given you that you never got around to drinking. You’re not drunk, but you’re tipsy enough that you feel relaxed around Joel and laugh at whatever he’s saying. It almost feels like Boston, when the days were so long and dark that all you wanted to do was sit and drink with him and eventually wind up in bed together.

Except now, you’ve got two kids who are sleeping in the living room and no intention of going to bed with him. Well, maybe if you let yourself have a few more glasses and if there weren’t kids in the other room but that’s just the alcohol in your system making you think things you shouldn’t.

“Do you remember when Frank asked how long we’d been dating?” He asks and you snort at the memory. You didn’t know at the time why Frank would even think that since you and Joel had been bickering the entire time you were at dinner, and Tess had to tell the two of you to knock it off multiple times. She had choked on her water when you asked why Frank thought you were dating and he said that it was because the two of you reminded him of Bill and himself.

“Yeah, Tess nearly choked because she was laughing when we simultaneously shouted no and then Bill caught us making out behind his house,” you say, smiling behind a sip of your drink. He doesn’t react to you saying Tess’s name and just shakes his head with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He tilts his head a little so he’s looking at you and not the ceiling.

“If I thought it covered the pain I caused you, I’d say sorry,” he says quietly and a little broken.

You look away, swallowing loudly. “Well, sorry would be a start.”

You don’t say that you’re not sure if you can forgive him, even if he did say sorry. Even if he knelt in front of you and begged, you’re not sure if you could push past the last five years. Every night you spent sobbing into your pillow in Boston while you waited for him to come back after you told him you were pregnant. Every bad night you had here in Jackson, thinking of why he did it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly, like it’s a secret.

Blinking back tears, you clear your throat and nod. “Thank you.”

Thank you but I can’t forgive you, goes unsaid. But a little voice in the back of your mind whispers, I can't forgive you yet and you can’t help but believe it a little bit.

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