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not-neverland06 · 26 days

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I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you.

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help.

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott.

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look.

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together.

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it.

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way.

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you.

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely.

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself.

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain.

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off.

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse.

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells.

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often.

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.”

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him.

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong.

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple.

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back.

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different.

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience.

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do.

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself.

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything.

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home.

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you.

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry.

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy.

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag.

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do.

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet.

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do.

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him.

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you.

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?”

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong.

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief.

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care.

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful.

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is.

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped.

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing.

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone.

It feels so wrong.

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you.

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face.

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low.

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation.

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism.

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch.

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself.

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself.

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you.

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other.

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new.

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great.

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable.

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting.

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily.

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you.

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging.

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut.

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you.

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair.

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets.

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other.

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore.

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone.

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on.

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy.

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine #wolverine fic #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #deadpool and wolverine #hugh jackman

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melzula · 6 months

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All I Ever Wanted

pairing: zuko x reader

notes: this was originally requested by an anon but i also took inspiration from mitski’s song “your best american girl” while writing this. give it a listen during your read !

summary: as a peasant and servant girl for the palace, you should have known better than to fall for the Prince

The sun is warm against your skin and the grass is soft beneath you as you land on your back in a fit of giggles. Azula is unamused by your antics, but Zuko finds himself laughing right along with you. It’s a peaceful summer’s day in the palace gardens, and you spend it as you would any other day by playing with your friends.

“I caught you,” you tell him with a breathless laugh after turning your head to face him.

“No way, I was just going easy on you,” he argues with playful grin, his nose nearly brushing against your own due to your close proximity on the grass. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage as you try to ignore the rising heat on your face and play it off as a result of your exhaustion and not your nerves from lying with the Prince. You haven’t realized it yourself, but you have a crush on Zuko, a painfully obvious one that he hasn’t seemed to notice yet. What you also don’t realize is that he reciprocates the feeling, and he shares the thrill that comes with being your playmate.

“Are you two done yet?” Azula finally interrupts with a roll of her eyes as she offers you her hand and helps you up from the ground. “It’s my turn to hide this time.”

“I don’t think we can play anymore,” Zuko notes with a frown as his mother makes her way towards your group. You quickly bow in respect to the Fire Lady, but she waves you off with a smile.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but Zuko and Azula must attend their fire bending lessons now. I’m afraid playtime is over for today,” she informs you apologetically.

“Yes, Fire Lady Ursa,” you reply politely before turning to give both of your friends departing hugs. “Bye Zuko, bye Azula!”

“It’s too bad you’re not a fire bender,” Azula remarks after halfheartedly returning your embrace. “Maybe dad would let us play with you more if you were.”

Her words make your body hot with embarrassment and shame, and though you don’t voice your discomfort Ursa is instantly able to pick up on it. With a scolding glare, the Fire Lady quickly urges her daughter to apologize.

“Azula, that is not a nice thing to say to a friend.”

“But it’s true,” the girl mutters under her breath only to have her mother drag her away before she can get the chance to say anything else. Zuko hesitates then, giving you an apologetic look and promising to play with you tomorrow before rushing after Ursa and Azula.

You’ve never really cared about being a non-bender, but there’s something about Azula’s words that has you questioning your worth. As the daughter of a royal family servant with no title or money to her name, you knew you were lucky to be able to grow up in the palace and play with the Fire Lord’s children. However, you never once realized that you weren’t their equal. They were royalty, a Prince and a Princess destined to become powerful benders and ruthless leaders of the Fire Nation, and you were simply a girl who would one day grow up to live a life of servitude. You had no real future or purpose ahead of you, not like they did, and yet you were the only one unaware of your unfortunate fate.

Perhaps it’s because they never treated you in such a way, and your mother did her best to shield you from your true heritage. For now you could grow up blissfully unaware of the fact that your friends would one day outgrow you.

“Mom?” Zuko asks once they’re safe inside the palace. “Do you like y/n?”

“She’s a sweet girl,” Ursa notes with a faint smile, “and she makes you both happy. So yes, I like her.”

“Then why doesn’t Dad?”

The Fire Lady’s smile fades into a remorseful frown, and she simply ushers her son forward with a shake of her head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to be late for your lesson.”

Zuko isn’t satisfied with her answer, but he isn’t give a chance to discuss it further with her. For now, he remains content with the fact that he likes you, and his mother likes you.

That is enough for him.

~~~

The day is calm as you carefully hang the clothes to dry and enjoy the warmth of the sun basking on your skin. It’s rare that you get tasked with the outdoor chores, so you savor the opportunity for as long as you can. Doing the royal family’s laundry certainly beats scrubbing the floors of the palace, and you are grateful the spirits have taken mercy upon you today.

You’re freshly fifteen and the summer is just beginning. You’ve grown into a well-mannered young woman, and you’re old enough now to be able to take on some of the work that once fell to your mother. One day you will take her place and continue to serve the royal family until you’re no longer physically able. You’ll never get to leave, but you consider yourself grateful to live on the palace grounds. You will forever have a roof over your head, food on the table, and, most importantly, your friends.

You take great care to pin Azula’s dresses down without getting any creases or wrinkles in the fabric, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure carefully creeping up behind you. You’re too busy reciting the words to an old Fire Nation folk song your mother had taught you to pay any mind to your surroundings, and it gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to catch you by surprise.

“Y/n!” He exclaims with a grin as his hands land firmly upon your shoulders. You nearly jump out of your skin at the act, and your reaction has the Fire Prince laughing so hard his cheeks begin to hurt.

“Zuko!” You scold with an irritated scowl as you chuck a handful of clothespins at him in retaliation. “You need to stop doing that!”

“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy,” he teases with a light nudge to your side before taking it upon himself to pick up the pins you’d discarded.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave for Ember Island?” You ask him with a quizzical look as you resume your previous work of hanging the clothes.

“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I want you to come with us.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?” You retort apprehensively, halting your movements to gauge his reaction for any hint of insincerity or humor.

“I am serious. You deserve to have fun once in a while too,” he notes with a careful smile. You’re too oblivious to notice the look of admiration on his face and definitely too concerned with finding a way to let him down gently to realize he’s inviting you because he likes you. Despite your own feelings for the Prince you’ve developed over the years, you’re much too self-depreciating to ever believe Zuko could possibly feel the same. If only you knew.

“I can’t just up and leave! There’s work to be done, a-and my mother would be so upset with me if I abandoned my chores and-“

“Azula will tell our father she wishes to bring you along as a personal servant so you can come with us, and someone else will be tasked with taking on your work while you’re away. There’s no way your mom could be upset with you for serving the Princess, could she?”

“Azula would really do that for me?” You question meekly, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you hang on to his every word. You’re trying your best not to get your hopes up, but you wish for nothing more than to leave the capital city to see the ocean for the first time and feel the sand beneath your feet. As the daughter of a servant and now a servant yourself, you know you’d never get a chance like this if not for the fact that the siblings had grown fond of you over your years of friendship together. You’re lucky, because you know without them you’d truly be nothing more than a floor scrubbing peasant.

“Of course she would, she wants you there just as much as I do,” Zuko assures you. Gently taking your hands in his own, he gives them a comforting squeeze and looks into your eyes with a loving smile. “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring enough clothes to last you three days and a bathing suit.”

“I don’t own one,” you admit with an embarrassed frown, but your friend doesn’t display any sign of judgement in the slightest towards your shortcomings.

“Then I’ll take you shopping myself when we get there.”

Your heart melts at his words, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully as you try not to dwell on the fact that he’s still holding your hands. You’re in love with the Prince, and the Prince is in love with you, and everyone but you has figured out just how much you mean to each other.

Even Fire Lord Ozai, who odiously watches the scene unfold before him from the top of the palace balcony.

~~~

The shores of Ember Island are beautiful.

The waves almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as they crash peacefully against the shore, and down below the lively chatter of your friends carries through the air and fills your heart with contentment. You’ve had the most perfect time here at the beach, and it pains you to know that tonight will be your last night of freedom before you must return home and resume your life as a servant girl.

The wooden doors behind you carefully slide open and closed, and soon a familiar warmth joins you out on the balcony. For a while you say nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of him as you watch Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai practice tricks in the sand below. You don’t know how to thank the Prince for all he’s done for you, for always looking out for you since you were children, for never once treating you as less than for your heritage. You don’t know how to tell him that you love him with your entire being.

So he does it for you.

“I got you something,” Zuko says after a moment’s silence, waiting for you to turn your gaze to him so he may pull out a small clam from beneath his robes. You raise a curious eyebrow at his offering as he gestures for you to take it.

“A clam shell?” You note inquisitively as you turn the gift around in your palms, carefully feeling out its grooves and intricate ridges.

“Open it,” he directs you quietly, anxiously watching your movements with bated breath.

You smile curiously at your friend before delicately pulling the top half of the shell open to reveal the contents inside. Your eyes widen in surprise at the gift that greets you, and you immediately look up to Zuko to ensure this isn’t some kind of joke.

Inside the clam sits a beautiful gold necklace with a dainty sun pendant resting in the center that shimmers under the light of the moon. It’s beautiful, and it’s certainly worth more than your own life, which is why you immediately try to hand it back to him.

“I-I can’t accept this!” You hastily insist with a quick shake of your head as you struggle to return the clam to him. “It’s too nice!”

“You can accept this,” Zuko reassures you as he carefully pushes the gift back towards you. When his efforts fail due to your persistent attempts to give back the shell, he lets out a sigh and carefully removes the necklace from the clam. “Y/n, I want you to have it.”

“But why?” You demand apprehensively, almost flinching away when he moves towards you with the necklace. You’re completely overwhelmed by his gift and unsure of what it means or why you’d ever be deserving of such a thing. You don’t want to take advantage of his kindness or his status, and you feel like he’s done more than enough for you by bringing you along on this trip, so it just feels wrong of you to take it.

“Because you deserve nice things too,” Zuko explains, and after giving you a pointed look you finally allow him to carefully put the necklace on you. The sun rests daintily along your neck, and he thinks it suits you perfectly. “I brought you on this trip because I wanted you to have fun for once, but also because… well, because I love you, and I thought a romantic setting might make it easier to tell you that.”

“You love me?”

“You haven’t noticed?” He retorts with a meek smile. “I’m not the best at words, but I know that I’ve loved you since we were children feeding turtle ducks in the pond and playing tag in the gardens. You have the purest heart of anyone I know, the sweetest smile, you are everything to me. I hope that by accepting this gift, you’ll be accepting me as someone worthy enough to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, Zuko…” you murmur softly, eyes full of tears as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him as tight as humanly possible. You’re still shocked by the fact that the boy you love will all your heart feels the same, but you try to remind yourself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Zuko is right when he says that you deserve to enjoy what life has to offer just as much as he does, so maybe it’s time you finally start allowing yourself the chance to finally let your guard down. You can be more than just a servant girl from the palace.

You can be happy.

~~~

You sit quietly before the vanity mirror as your mother tediously brushes through your hair to ensure not a single strand is out of place. The wrinkles in her skin crease with her nerves as she carefully begins to pin your hair back into the perfect top knot. Immediately after your return home from Ember Island, you were informed that the Fire Lord wished to speak with you. You were expected to drop your chores for the day and make yourself decent before presenting yourself to him. His request to see you surprised you considering the fact you previously believed he didn’t even know of your existence, but it made you nervous all the same. If anything were to go wrong during your meeting, you’d be jeopardizing both yours and your mother’s jobs.

“Make sure to sit up straight and no slouching,” she reminds you quietly while stopping to admire her work. “Hold your tongue until he allows you to speak and thank him for all he has done for us. It is a great honor to speak to Fire Lord Ozai, so you must treat it as such.”

“Mother, what could the Fire Lord possibly want to talk to me about?”

She doesn’t meet your eyes at first, looking away as if contemplating carefully what her next words should be. With a sigh, she sets the brush down and looks at you through the reflection. “Word has spread quickly about you and Prince Zuko, and I think he knows.”

You swallow nervously at her admission, absently brushing your fingers against the sun that hangs around your neck. You never once considered what Zuko’s father would think about his son’s choice of a partner; Ursa had always treated you as one of her own, and Azula considered you to be a good friend, but what would Ozai say of the peasant girl who had stolen his son’s heart?

You don’t have much time to mull over it further as a guard arrives to escort you from your quarters to the throne room. All eyes seem to follow you as you walk through the palace, the gold and red hues overwhelming your senses as you do your best to remain calm. You have no idea what awaits you at the end of the hallway, but there’s no escape now as the grand doors open and you’re pushed inside.

Ozai sits on the throne with a wall of flames roaring behind him. His features are stoic but his gaze is menacing as his eyes watch your meager form approach. You immediately bow in respect to the man once you reach him and kneel before his seated figure. Just as your mother instructed, you say nothing until you are spoken to.

“So you’re the girl my son has chosen to be his partner?” He drawls with a raised brow, obviously not impressed by the person before him.

“Yes, sir. It is an honor to present myself to you, my Lord,” you profess as earnestly as possible while adding another bow for good measure. You need his approval not only to continue dating Zuko, but also to ensure you and your mother are both able to continue living behind the palace walls. Even if you are there as servants tucked away in the peasant quarters, it certainly is a better place to be than out in the streets.

“I know who you are, child,” Ozai scoffs callously as he peers down at you from his place on the throne. “You are the peasant girl who managed to worm her way into the lives of my children. You are a lowly servant with nothing to your name and nothing special about you, and yet you have managed to corrupt my only son."

“Fire Lord Ozai, I-I apologize if my actions have upset you,” you quickly try to interject, but he holds a hand up and signals you to halt your pathetic rambling. Ozai does not have the time nor care to hear your excuses or explanations. That’s not what this meeting is for.

“Do you know how poorly it would reflect on me to have Zuko galavanting around the palace with a servant? Do you know how poorly it reflects on him to be seen with you? It’s a disgrace, and it is something I will not tolerate.”

“I know,” you utter quietly, trying to make yourself appear as small as you feel on the inside. Despite what Zuko has told you, you know that his father is right. You are nothing compared to him. He is the sun, the Prince, the heir to the throne. His future ahead is bright, and there is much for him to accomplish. You have no future, no plans for your life, nothing as grand or important as him and Azula. You are not the sun or the moon or even the stars that hang in his sky, you are insignificant, and you will never be worthy enough to be his.

“A future Fire Lord cannot have a maid as a wife. You must break his heart so that he no longer wants anything to do with you, so that he can move on and find a girl more worthy of becoming the future Fire Lady. You must make it appear to be your own doing and not mine, otherwise it won’t work. Have I made myself clear, child?”

“Yes, Fire Lord Ozai,” you whisper softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you bow to the cruel man before you. “I understand.”

~~~

The clouds that hang overhead are gray as Zuko makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. It is unheard of for any royal to ever set foot on these grounds, and so all eyes watch the Prince curiously as he approaches your humble home and knocks gently on the door. Movement sounds from the other side, and after a moment he is met with the startled face of your mother. It’s clear that she hadn’t been expecting him, and he takes her by surprise when he bows to the woman in respect.

“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I was hoping I could speak to y/n,” he utters with a look of defeat on his face. His sullen features make his lack of sleep obvious, and his eyes are full of desperation. You’ve been avoiding him for weeks and he has no clue as to why, but he hopes to figure it out soon before he starts to spiral any further.

“She’s…” your mother begins to say, glancing unsurely behind her before looking back to him, “she’s not feeling well. You can come back another time.”

“But-“

“Please, Prince Zuko, we can’t risk you catching whatever it is she’s come down with. You must go.”

She gives him no time to argue before slamming the door in his face. Zuko is stunned, but his shock quickly turns to anger as he lets out a frustrated breath of flames from his mouth before stalking off to cool himself down.

His footsteps fade into the distance as he departs, and you can only sit by the window of your room and watch him walk away. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel as if you can’t breathe, and once he finally disappears over the horizon you break down into an inconsolable mess.

You love Zuko with all of your heart, so it kills you to act as if he means nothing to you. You’re trying to do what Ozai has demanded of you, but it’s agonizing and difficult. You’re too much of a coward to face him and break it off for good, so you’ve resorted to avidly avoiding the Prince at all costs. You hope that by pushing him away he’ll take it upon himself to end the relationship; it would be much less painful that way, but he’s too stubborn for his own good, and he’s persisted despite your best efforts.

The days seem to blend together as you lock yourself in your room while your mother continues to turn Zuko away. You haven’t done any of your chores or worked in days, but Ozai has not faulted you for your incompletion of tasks. Breaking Zuko’s heart is your task, and so long as you keep your word he couldn’t care less what you did with yourself.

After another week has passed, suffocation finally catches up to you and you’re forced to leave your room in order to get some fresh air. You sneak out at nightfall when the palace is quiet and your mother is sleeping so that no one can detect your presence. You retreat to the well out in the back and stare contemplatively into the water below. Clutching the sun that hangs from the gold chain around your neck, you admire the moon’s reflection in the ripples and wish you could be anywhere else but here in the Fire Nation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice utters quietly, causing you to jump in alarm at the intrusion. You turn to meet the solemn gaze of the Prince, and as your back hits the cool stones of the well you find that you are cornered. You can’t avoid him now, and it’s a fact both of you are aware of.

“Zuko, I… I was just leaving,” you stammer hurriedly as you try to push your way past him, but he catches you by the arm before you can get away.

“No, not until you talk to me!” He demands, his eyes full of desperation and despair. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you keep avoiding me. Why? Was it something I did?”

“No, Zuko, you didn’t do anything,” you insist despite refusing to meet his gaze. You’re terrified that someone will see you both together and alert Ozai, and you wish he would just release you so you could go back to hiding away in your room.

“Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Slowly, you peek your head up to meet his exasperated face. It seems he’s not going to give up without a fight, so you’re going to have to resort to doing what you’ve been trying to avoid this entire time.

“I don’t love you.”

“W-What?” Zuko stammers in quiet surprise, his hold on your arm loosening slightly. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing from you, and his mind is scrambling to process your words.

“I don’t love you. I want nothing to do with you,” you repeat firmly, your eyes hardening as you stare up at him and yank yourself free from his grasp.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that-“

“I do mean it! I feel nothing for you, Zuko. I never have. I just felt like I couldn’t say no to you because you’re the Prince, so I had no choice but to say yes to being your girlfriend.”

Hurt flashes across his features and you’re dying inside at having to be so cruel to him. The heart of your childhood best friend is in your hands and you crush it with every word despite how much it pains you. But it’s better for both of you this way, it must be. Ozai will never let you be happy together, but apart he still has a chance to capture the promised future ahead of him. You’re doing him a favor, and you hope one day he’ll be able to see it that way too.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs weakly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Then, with frustration clear in his tone, “This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Did you honestly think we could actually be together?” You retort in disbelief. “Azula always said you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were this naive. A servant and a Prince don’t belong together, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to get that!”

“Alright, fine,” Zuko mutters indignantly. His sadness has quickly morphed into anger, and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Can I just ask you one thing?”

You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“If you don’t love me, then why are you still wearing the necklace?”

Your eyes widen slightly as your hand immediately flies to your neck to clutch the pendant, and your heart slowly begins to sink to your stomach as you realize you’ve been caught in your lie. It’s your turn now to be at a loss for words, unsure what to say as you simply stare up at him with your mouth slight agape.

“You don’t mean what you’re saying,” Zuko says firmly as he moves closer to you. “Someone else is speaking for you, aren’t they?”

“I…”

“What’s going on, y/n?” He presses gently, carefully resting a hand upon your cheek. “Why are you acting this way?”

“I can’t tell you,” you argue weakly, your own eyes becoming full of tears as you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You’ve missed the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his closeness, and despite your mind screaming at you to remove yourself from him your heart keeps you planted in place.

“That’s nonsense, of course you can. You’ve always been able to tell me anything, so why can’t you now?”

“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you it’s for your own good?” You plead emphatically despite the wavering of your voice.

“How can this possibly be for my own good?!” He retorts in exasperation. “I’ve been miserable without you. Life feels empty when you aren’t around, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that the girl I’ve loved all my life can’t seem to stand me.”

“It’s not like that!” You cry defensively as the tears finally begin to fall.

“Then what is it?!” Zuko demands, and you can’t seem to take any more of this torture. The lies are killing you, and you can’t help but to finally crack under pressure.

“I’m not good enough for you!” You finally exclaim as you pull yourself away from his touch. You try to choke back your sobs but the ache in your chest makes the task difficult, and you can do nothing but let your words flow freely after keeping them bottled in for weeks. “I-I have nothing to offer you, nothing that makes me special, nothing ahead of me like you do. It’s an embarrassment to the Fire Lord for you to be with me, and it will be an embarrassment for you to have me as your Fire Lady.”

Stunned by your admission, it takes Zuko a moment to process your words. He steps towards you and you flinch, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It’s clear you’re frightened, but not of him. Your fear is geared toward someone else, and the culprit must be responsible for you now feeling this way.

“Who told you such nonsense?”

“Your father,” you admit quietly much to Zuko’s dismay. His eyes immediately harden and his chest is immediately tight with anger, but he does his best to keep his emotions at bay so as to not upset you further. “He spoke to me when we returned from Ember Island and told me we couldn’t be together. Ozai demanded I break your heart so that you can move on and find another girl more suited for this life than I could ever be. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I’m doing this so that you can have a better future. I’ll only hold you back, Zuko.”

After taking a moment to digest your words, Zuko carefully steps towards you again. You don’t reject his advances this time, so he allows himself the opportunity to carefully wipe away the steady tears that fall down your cool cheeks. Despite how much of a mess you assume you must look like, the Prince still sees you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I don’t care what my father says,” he assures you gently as he takes your hands in his own. “You’re not an embarrassment, and there’s no other girl that could ever compare to you. I love you, y/n, and I’m not going to let anyone ever get in the way of that.”

“You mean that?” You ask with a quiet sniffle, holding his hands tight as if he’ll leave if you let go.

“Every word. Let my father and anyone else who disapproves of our relationship say what they want to say. I want to be with you, and I hope you still want to be with me too.”

His looks to you with pleading eyes that seek your reassurance, and for a moment you hesitate. Being with Zuko is all you’ve ever wanted, and now he stands here before you professing his loyalty and his love to you. The boy from your childhood had stolen your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you wanted it back.

You know being with him won’t be easy, especially not with his father’s adamant disapproval of your relationship, but you trust Zuko, and so you have to trust that everything will turn out okay. You meet his desperate gaze and gift him a faint smile, and despite knowing you’ll regret this, you wordlessly lean in to meet his lips in a kiss.

You can worry about Ozai’s wrath later. But for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace by the moonlit well as you share your first kiss in weeks. It feels right being in his arms once more after spending so much time apart, and you hope you’ll never have to be without his touch ever again.

| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu

#melzula writes #request #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #azula #ursa #ozai #angst #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender

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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 2 years

Text

Pink in the Night

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Some interesting rumours have been circling around about Bucky. Little do you know, it's kinda your fault.

Word Count: 4.5K

Warnings: Porn with a bit of plot, SMUT, SMUT, SMUT, soft Buck, SMUT!!!!

AN: Sorry y'all! It's kinda a bit shit but listen, it's self-indulgent so idc :) This is kinda inspired by 'Pink in the Night' by Mitski which I was listening to while writing this. Have a good rest of the week, y'all <3 (Also, I love this gif. Can anyone tell me where it's from????)

Bucky had a love-hate relationship with being your neighbour. On the one hand, he loved seeing your face as you left your room every morning, hair not yet slicked to perfection, and sleep still evident on your face. You seemed a lot more innocent in the morning - conversations more idle.

On the other hand - and perhaps as a downside to his more sensitive hearing - you drove him crazy with the knowledge of things that perhaps he wasn't supposed to know.

This night was no different. You had headed off to bed after a long day, bidding everyone in the kitchen a good night. You grabbed a water bottle before slipping into the elevator, Bucky not far behind. You stepped out of the elevator together and you wished him sweet dreams before slipping into your room. Oh, his dreams were going to be far from sweet.

You see, your beds were pushed up to opposite sides of the same wall, so he could hear you relax on your bed. He could hear you shuffle to strip into just your underwear, and how your hand slipped into your panties. He could hear how your breath hitched as you circled your clit, and your soft moans as you plunged your fingers into your cunt or as your vibrator dipped in between your folds.

He could almost envisage you doing it - a forbidden porno that took root in his mind every night that he heard you finger yourself to completion. The rosy pink flush that you would glow as you came all over your hand. Your heavy rise and fall of your chest as you came down from your high. The small smile that would adorn your face as rolled over to fall asleep - the oxytocin released coursing through your veins.

He felt disgusting as he did - one of those creeps that he intended to protect you from for the rest of his life. But after you'd fallen asleep, he'd hop into the shower to cool his body and his mind - to throw the detestable thoughts of you to the far corners of his mind. But as he fell asleep, you'd re-enter his mind in a different way. A more safe-for-work way. You'd be in his arms, cuddling him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. You'd be cooking him dinner while he told you funny stories about his life with scrawny Steve in the 40s; he'd be washing the dishes while you sat on the counter tell him about your day. He'd worry for your well-being - not as an overbearing coworker but as a loving, doting boyfriend. Maybe husband.

Bucky was getting ahead of himself - he'd have to work up the courage to have more than a few-word conversation with you. But for now, wishing he could hold your hand would have to suffice.

Being Bucky's neighbour was not much easier. Especially when he was completely oblivious to your plight. Even the slight brush of a hand made your heart flutter.

You loved seeing him early in the morning - he always seemed less reserved when he was fresh from a good night's rest. He was faster to smile, faster to laugh. It was nice. You woke up at an ungodly hour to see him just before he headed on his morning run. You couldn't deny that the morning light did wonders for him - you were always left wanting more when he dipped into the elevator.

Oh, and the sounds. Your hearing was not quite as superior as Bucky's, but you definitely heard things that left you clenching around thin air.

You knew Bucky wasn't one to self-complete often - in fact, it was rare that you ever caught on to the act. But you had caught the odd broken moan coming from his room. You turned into molten mush, the weight of your arousal buckling your knees. If there was any sound that could turn you to putty, it was that.

You didn't how many times the idea of Bucky fucking you had played through your mind, but each night a different variation brought you the same ending - your fingers deep in your cunt, coaxing you to a climax.

Every night, you wished his cock, tongue, fingers were filling you up instead of yours, leaving you aching and wishing for more. You wanted to run your nails down his back - leaving permanent reminders of your love for him - while he nipped at your neck - leaving marks claiming you as his.

Sometimes, your brain caught up to your thoughts, reprimanding you for your possessiveness. He wasn't yours, you had to remind yourself, even if you wished he was. For that, you'd have to actually have to have more than a few-word conversation with him - which to be honest, seemed impossible. So you stuck to your nightly wishful dreaming, hoping one day he'd be yours. Only yours.

Summer was the worst for Bucky. You were the type to spend hours upon hours out in the sun, coming back with a budding tan and rosy complexion - it did nothing to quell the budding images flashing in the back of his mind. You. Under him. Panting. Moaning his name as he brought you to the edge. Over and over again. Face glowing pink as you gaze up into his eyes, drunk on love and his cock. Bucky had to excuse himself to splash cold water on his face.

It didn't help that the clothing you wore did nothing to help his imagination. The semi-sheer tops, the shorts, the swimsuit and bikinis. Every time he saw you, he immediately had to duck back inside to deal with 'a little problem'. More like a very large, very hard, and very obvious problem.

Still, he enjoyed your company more than he had for the better part of his time living in the compound. He listened to your stories, your jokes, helped solve your issues. He felt that - even if you weren't quite what he wanted you to be - your relationship was blossoming into something quite beautiful. And that made him feel a lot braver - he introduced a little comment here and there, a hand always on your waist or the small of your back. He flirted with you from time to time: just to gauge a meter on your reactions, he'd tell himself, as if this was an experiment to crack a hypothesis that had been perplexing scientists for years.

The sun was peaking over the top of the trees surrounding the compound when you woke up. That was a rarity in summer, given that the sun rose at nearly 5am. Still, you didn't miss out on the opportunity to watch the sunrise, curling up on your windowsill with your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky opening his door, and you ran towards yours, grabbing your phone and slippers on your way. You opened your door just as he closed his. He was dressed in gym wear - as always - since he was going on his morning run around the compound track. It was a nice track - one that you rarely frequented - going in and out of the forest behind the compound, totalling about 4.5 miles in distance.

He took you in, eyes bulging as they raked over you. You looked down, following his gaze. Shit. In your rush to see Bucky, you'd forgotten that your nightwear had consisted of some flimsy shorts and your bra - that you had thrown on after waking up to save a modicum of dignity, should someone burst into your room. It was too hot for anything else. You crossed your arms over your chest, which indefinitely made the issue worse as Bucky's eyes lifted way over your head.

"Looking good, babe!" Nat yells, walking across the landing toward you both. Clearly, Bucky had been intending to go on a run with her, maybe fit in a quick sparring session. You sent them on their way, with a 'have fun' and 'don't have too much fun.'

As soon as you were back in the comfort of your room, Nat elbowed Bucky hard.

"Oww! What the fuck was that for?" Rubbing his metal arm, for the convincing act.

"Oh please, you big baby. You have a fucking metal arm, get over yourself." She looked down, "You have a bit of a situation going on down there."

He looks down, embarrassment flushing his cheeks bright red, and subtly tucked his hard dick into his waistband.

"You wanna go sort that out? I won't hold it against you," Nat said, hitting the button to call the lift, "I promise not to tell Stark. Scout's honour." She jokingly holds up 3 fingers. Bucky swats her arm gently.

"No point."

Nat gasps, "No way. Don't tell me Mr. Winter Soldier can't have sex."

"Not sex," Bucky mumbles, "Just jerking off. Can't seem to - you know - finish."

Bucky had a history with Nat. They'd known each other for years. That kind of history made this kind of conversation somewhat less uncomfortable.

Nat burst into laughter. So much for not being uncomfortable.

The lift stopped on Sam's floor. He stepped in, gazing warily at the scene in front of him: the Black Widow doubled over in laughter, and the Winter Soldier embarrassed and uncomfortable in the corner.

He begged to be let in on the joke. Nat wheezed between laughs, "He - can't - fucking - cum!" Bursting into another bout of laughter, with Sam close behind, Bucky jumps out on the next floor, heading to the roof for some fresh air. He catches you up there, trying out some morning yoga. He sneaks up behind you as your stand up, grabbing your waist. You shriek, hitting him hard in the chest, before melting into his embrace once your brain caught up to the situation.

"Not fair!" You pouted, pausing your peaceful music, "Yoga's supposed to be peaceful!"

Bucky chuckles, pulling you into another hug, feeling you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I thought you were going on a run with Nat?" You whispered into his ear, your cheek resting on his clavicle.

"She ditched me for Sam." Bucky opted to leave out the real reason why he had left Nat and Sam in pieces in the elevator.

"Sucks to be you, Barnes!" You laugh pulling away and stepping back onto your mat. "Now leave me alone - just 'cause your friends abandoned you, doesn't mean you can bother me."

Bucky pouted, causing you to laugh before you turned back to your Yoga. He stood there and watched you for a minute, before heading back down to the gym. He strung up a punching bag, before wrapping his flesh wrist. Bucky took all his pent-up aggression and frustration out on the punching bag, allowing no respite between each jab, cross, and hook.

He stayed in the gym for over 3 hours, working every bit of stress out of his body. By the time he left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and a long day of paperwork and training awaited. Bucky headed up to his room for a quick shower - washing all the sweat off his body.

He felt lighter heading downstairs for breakfast - the weight of his arousal pushed far back in his mind. There was nothing he could do about it anyway.

Since deciding he would pursue you honestly, he couldn't seem to finish, no matter how hard he tried. You had been the only thing to push him over the edge - it seemed his body couldn't do it without you. It was frustrating beyond belief. He'd tried other things, porn, erotica, even thinking back to good times before the war. Nothing helped. It was as if his body was finetuned to you - only you knew the magic password to release him. Figuratively and literally.

When he reached the kitchen, he was privy to a welcome sight. You, in your combat gear, grabbing some granola bars before you jumped on the quinjet. You and Stark were heading on a surveillance mission in Guatemala for the week. You were reaching up to the top shelf, stretching on your tiptoes for the expensive granolas that had been kept on the top shelf. Bucky's granola bars that he had put there to stop anyone else from stealing them.

He reached up from behind you and grabbed the box, placing it in your hands. You looked guilty. You'd been caught red-handed.

"It's fine, doll. Take as many as you want." He said, leaning back against the counter, resting on his forearms. Your face flushed red as you grabbed 2 or 3, shoving them into your bag and turning around to fill up your water bottle.

You shivered when his hot breath fanned across your exposed neck, "Just remember that you owe me."

He was gone by the time you turned around.

The rumour had spread like wildfire while you were away.

"Did you hear that Bucky can't have sex?"

"I heard that Bucky can't - you know - cum?"

"Apparently, his time at Hydra fucked him up worse than he realised."

"He can't even masturbate you know?"

The rumours were getting out of hand, but he let them swirl. There was an ounce of truth to them, even if Hydra had nothing to do with his current predicament.

No, that blame could only lie with you.

When you got back, Bucky had just left on a 4-day-long mission with Sam - which meant you heard all the rumours and Bucky wasn't there to defend himself.

You heard it first when you dropped your suit off for dry-cleaning. One of the tech guys was whispering to Marta, the woman who looked after the dry cleaning of suits, about Bucky's apparent inability to ejaculate. You were shocked. Where the hell did they even get that information? You dropped off your suit and headed back up to your room to shower.

You then heard another mention of it when you went to drop off your reports. Two of the agents that were being reassigned to Steve's team - that were currently on a month-long mission in Chad - were gossiping outside Tony's office.

" - and apparently she ran out crying. Thought she wasn't good enough for him or something along those lines. I don't know."

"Yeah, apparently the breakup was grizzly."

"I feel bad for him you know, all of the shit he went through with Hydra, and now this?"

"Yeah, man, really sucks."

Your face blushed a bright red. What the fuck? Where did this rumour even come from? You knew for a fact that Bucky hadn't had a girlfriend since living in the compound so wherever that part of the rumour came from was completely untrue.

You had to get to the bottom of this.

You spent the better part of the next 2 days collecting bits of information from conversations between people around the compound. You found out that the rumour had originated from a conversation between Nat and Sam, which an agent had overheard while they were on their run. It had been twisted as most oral stories were leading to this big misleading idea that Bucky was unable to even get it up and that he was unable to please a woman. You were sure the latter part was untrue. You'd heard the way he moaned alone in his room - you were sure that you could cum just from his moans alone. He wouldn't even need to touch you.

You didn't think the rumour would affect you when Bucky got back. After all, you knew at least some of it to be false. But when he got back, his beard grown out a little because he couldn't shave it while he was away, you felt embarrassed. Not because of his supposed 'predicament' but because you felt as if you had found out something that you maybe weren't supposed to know.

Bucky caught on quicker than you would have liked. The night after he got back, Tony had thrown a little get-together to 'celebrate midsummer'. Realistically, Tony just wanted a reason to go out and drink with his friends. You had avoided Bucky most of the night - not necessarily intentionally, but Bucky still felt slightly hurt and more than a little confused.

He caught you alone on the balcony, looking out at the stars.

"Did I do something?" He said, sneaking up behind you and making you jump. Nervousness and insecurity laced his every move, worried that he had hurt you in some way that he couldn't possibly imagine.

You shook your head violently, scared to make eye contact with him. He lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

"What's wrong?" You turned back to face the sky, embarrassment filling your chest. He laced his metal fingers into yours, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not. Nothing's stupid, not if it's you." Your heart fluttered at his words.

Your eyes met his steady gaze, "It's really stupid." His eyes begged you to go on, "It's just that - um - when I got back I - um - heardthisreallystupidrumourandIshouldn'thaveletitgettomebutbasically -"

Bucky placed a hand on your waist, drawing small circles, "Breathe."

"Someone said you had trouble pleasing women." You let out quietly. If it hadn't been for his enhanced hearing, he probably would have missed you. His grip on your waist tightened, "Bucky?"

"Trouble pleasing women? That's a new one." His deep voice cut you to your core. You let out a small whimper as the arousal pooled in your panties.

Bucky didn't miss that either.

He grabbed your arm and led you through the party. No one gave you a double look as he lead you into the vacant elevator, slamming your floor number and pushing you up against the wall.

"Think I can't please a woman, huh? Think again. Don't think I don't know what you think about when you cum all over your hand, whining my name under your breath." You whined lowly at his words, feeling how he pushed his hard dick perfectly in line with your throbbing pussy, "Isn't that right, slut? That's what you are, aren't you? My perfect little slut?" You moan at his degrading statement, pushing your pussy further onto his cock trying to find some friction.

"So needy," He tutted, his condescending tone only heightening your arousal. The elevator door pinged and Bucky picked you up bridal-style, kicking the door to your room open. You regularly forgot to lock it while heading down to dinner - for once, both you and Bucky were glad.

He dropped you on your bed, unceremoniously, eyes raking over you ravenously. The heat rose up your face, as you shifted under his unrelenting gaze.

"Oh baby, you don't how long I've been waiting for this." He leaned down locking your lips in a passionate kiss. His palm landed just above your knee, caressing up your leg towards your upper thigh. His hand slid under your dress, cupping your ass. He left a light squeeze, making you gasp into the kiss.

He leaned down, grabbing you with ease, flipping you both so you were straddling his waist. He tangled his flesh hand in your hair, the metal one possessively gripping your hip. He brought you down to his lips for another kiss - even when you were on top, he made sure you knew that he was in charge.

He toyed with the hem of your dress, eyes raking over you once again.

"Off."

You pulled the dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties. You felt seriously underdressed, especially considering Bucky was still in his jacket. He reaches up, joining your lips in another kiss, and reaching around to remove your bra. He tosses it to the side, running his knuckles over your pebbled nipples. You moan loudly, panties soaked. He takes his time pinching and squeezing your nipples, licking and biting as he went. The alternate sensations of one warm hand and one ice-cold heighten your arousal ten-fold. You buck your hips over his jeans, the sensation of his fly between your sensitive folds throwing you into overdrive.

His grip on your waist tightened once again. "I can feel your cunt throbbing, honey." You whimpered pathetically. "Go ahead, use me to get off. I know you want to."

Your hips started bucking off their own accord, clothed pussy running over the fly of his jeans. They started slow, getting a feel for what exactly you were doing. Bucky's hands started pushing you faster, setting a faster groove. The coil in your stomach began to tighten as your bucking became more erratic. You teetered on the edge of an orgasm when Bucky stopped you.

"Beg." He restarted your pace, faster and more erratic than before.

"Please, please, please, please, Bucky, please let me cum, please..-" You babbled, tripping and stumbling through your pleas. With a searing kiss, he gives you permission.

"I love you, I love you, I love, OH-" You fall off the edge of one of the hardest orgasms you've ever had, head empty with only one thing on your mind. Bucky.

You feel Bucky manhandle your body so your back is lying on the bed and he is towering over you. He asks you if you want to go on and all you can do is nod your head vigorously.

He chuckles, "I like your enthusiasm baby, but I need words. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, YES!" You shout, breathlessly, already needing more.

He's fully naked and it's all you can do to not stare. He's definitely a well-endowed man, and he definitely has no problem getting it up.

"Like what you see?" He smirks, and you slap his thigh playfully. He pulls you further toward the edge of the bed and lines his dick up with your slick folds. He slides in slowly, holding your chin up so you keep eye contact with him. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head in satisfaction. You've never felt so full in your life. He presses into you slowly, feeling the way your tightness engulfs him, allowing your body to adjust to his size. You whimper softly as he pushes in - you never realised just how desperate you were for him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He chuckles, watching as tears leak out of your eyes. His condescending tone was back, and all it did was make you hornier. You babbled incoherently, "Gone dumb already? What a cock-drunk little slut you are."

He trails a metal finger up the side of your torso, watching the goosebumps left in its wake. You whimper again.

"Such a needy little baby. Only I can take care of you like this, right? Only me."

"Only you." You affirmed, pressing a kiss to the arm near your head.

He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming all the way back in. You screamed in pleasure, and Bucky set a brutal pace. He pinned your arms above your head with his right hand, and his left hand came to wrap around your throat. The significance of that was not lost on you. He loved you enough to not hurt you, even with his metal arm.

"I love you, baby. You know that right?" Bucky looked you deep in the eyes, "You know I love you right?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you," You babble back, lost in the throes of passion.

Bucky found your clit with his metal hand, pressing and flicking gently. You felt your muscles tighten for a second time, and you grabbed the sheets throwing your head back as you came harder than the first time.

Bucky came moments later, deep inside you with a loud moan. He pulled out slowly, collapsing next to you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself into his neck.

He chuckled at that, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a bear hug. You stayed like that for a minute before he untangled himself from you and carried you to the bathroom.

He turned on the shower and you both stepped under it, cleaning the sweat and cum off your bodies. Your legs felt like jelly, so you leaned heavily into Bucky as he washed you off.

"Stay awake, doll, just for a second," He said, shaking you awake each time you dozed off in the shower.

Bucky pulled some of your clothes onto your body, before setting you down on the bed. He gave you a quick kiss to the forehead before promising to be back soon.

He snuck into his room wrapped in a towel, before throwing on the first pair of sweats he could find and dashing to the kitchen for a cup of water.

He snuck back into your room, to see you already dead asleep on the bed. He slipped under the covers, tugging you closer to his chest, and smiled.

Through your grogginess, you nuzzled into his chest. "I love you." You whispered, your lips resting against his heart.

You woke up to the sound of soft snoring in your ear and sunlight streaming through the window. You smiled. You untangled yourself from Bucky's arms, disappearing into your bathroom to pee. You wash your face and brush your teeth before diving back into Bucky's arms.

Your legs were still sore from last night, but you didn't care. You were Bucky's and Bucky was yours. The very thought put a massive smile on your face.

"What's tickled your feather this morning?" Goddamn, his morning voice was sexy. You smiled and pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

Bucky smiled through the kiss. He picked you up by the thighs, carrying you while he brushed his teeth and splashed his face.

The compound was pretty silent, barely anyone was awake after drinking the night away. So, while Bucky made you pancakes for breakfast, you asked him the question, "Hey, Buck, where did the rumour come from?"

He looked at you, vaguely embarrassed, "You know that day, when me and Nat were gonna go down to train?"

You face flushed red, "When I walked out in my underwear?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "I got a hard-on, like a teenage boy."

You stifled a laugh.

"So, Nat said, do I wanna go deal with it? And I told her I couldn't."

You looked at him confused, "Why not?"

"Cause of you," he said simply. You looked at him even more confused, "You were the only thing I got get off to. I tried everything else. Porn, erotica, even thinking about old sex. Nothing worked."

You flushed red again. "Oh god, I've weirded you out, haven't I?" You broke off his impending spiral with a kiss.

"I love you." You said, placing a kiss on his bare chest.

He looked at you with such love and reverence that you felt like you might combust under his gaze.

He kissed you again and all you could think was, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I love you I love you I love you.

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bukcy barnes #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #bucky imagine #bucky smut

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amaranthineghost · 5 months

Text

DOUBT SEEPS INTO ME AND I CAN’T GET IT TO STOP (BUT YOU CAN) ( charles leclerc. )

charles leclerc x reader

uncertainty plagues her mind, and self-sabotage looms over her shoulder, as if its whispering in her ear to tell her it’s a bad idea. he still manages to be the voice on top of all her doubts at the end of the day.

authors note: literally wrote this because this is how i felt while i waited for the days to pass so i could ask the guy i like for his number. mf got me feeling in love and shit, listening to mitski and lana del rey, writing fucking poems. liking a guy is the best and worst thing ever. gonna work on other things soon tho!

THE THOUGHT OF LOVE twisted her stomach into knots. even the mere thought of simply asking a guy for his number made her body churn with anxiety and the looming feeling of rejection held over her head.

relationships never lasted for her because she wouldn’t let them, the idea of getting too attached and the possibility of it shattering her heart was too great to risk it. she would watch from afar, stalk his socials, but never had the guts to approach him, or even look his way.

all throughout high school, she dreamed of a relationship that others around her had, but she lacked everything they didn’t. social skills were never her things, and confidence was something she always lacked. she just wanted to be a teenage girl in love, and she wouldn’t get that. she wasn’t sure she ever would.

she felt as though she was unloveable. even though it was so easy for her to give love, it was far harder to accept it. if anything, it was impossible for her to even imagine doing so. her trust was a thin thread that always seemed to snap. no matter how many times she tried to re-tie it, it always came back undone.

it wasn’t like she never liked any guys, boy she did, but the chase factor was a part of every single one. she never had guys come to her, and she would never go to a guy. still, she chased and chased, yet she never caught up. she worried she never would.

she worried she would never experience the thrill of being in a relationship, all because that thrill was shrouded with anxiety, uncertainty and distrust, though the distrust mostly lied within herself. deeply rooted in her brain was the idea that she wasn’t capable of ever accepting she could be loved, that someone would ever be so patient, understanding, and wanting.

she wanted it so bad, yet she felt like this. it felt stupid, she felt stupid. she felt like a walking contradiction because she couldn’t make up her mind. her heart wanted one thing, and her mind shut it out. a defense mechanism that she felt could never disable, that tinkering with it would only worsen the intensity. deep breaths only temporarily stopped the nausea that plagued her stomach, but only giving the man, the one she so desperately craved to be with, up would change how she felt.

she was a hopeless romantic at heart, but at mind, she was never going to let love in. as much as she held out her accepting arms, vines adorned with thorns grew through her veins, lacing her fingertips with sharp edges to cut back anyone who would try to get close.

the week leading up to finally getting his number went by so painfully slow; she had built herself up too high in those days. she worried she would come crumbling down before she even managed the chance of getting close. from afar she watched, glances exchanged and she gushed to her friends, but she could never be so sure that they were meant for her. after all, she was just an employee for ferrari, he was an athlete in the sport.

her friends were unsure if the brunette was the right fit for the girl, if he was even attainable at all. he was known for being a red flag among fans, he literally drives for a team based around the color red. she didn’t care, she was convinced he was right for her, but still she was scared she wasn’t his type. she knew he wasn’t taken, his entire private life, which was never even private to begin with, was broadcasted across the internet. if he had found someone new, she would know, and for now he hadn’t.

oh, she desperately wanted to be a wag. who wouldn’t? her job made it complicated though, she worked under the team, she didn’t have authority anywhere, she was a nobody. she never knew how she managed to catch his striking gaze to begin with.

she thought she would’ve looked like an idiot, an awkward, nervous girl in front of the charles leclerc, prince of ferrari. she felt like one, maybe she was, but the way he looked down at the shorter girl gave her the courage she needed to mutter the words she had thought about saying everyday for the past week.

“uh—could i get your number?” she barely managed out, she was nervous, it was evident in her tone and the way her voice was up an octave. his brunette hair and green eyes were enchanting, she had fantasized about him for that week. she even went as far as making a playlist to listen to to occupy her time, laying around when she wasn’t at her job. she had never been this lovesick for a guy in her entire life until she first laid eyes on him.

the sick feeling in her stomach became all too familiar, she hated it at first, but now she began to feel comfort in the sickness, and began to miss it over the weekend. the mopey love feeling of hopelessness while listening to lana del rey, or mitski. the fantasization of how the scenario would play out in her favor etched itself into her brain.

the moment of silence was harsh, she could feel the rejection coming. she braced herself for it, holding her breath.

he looked down at her with those damn eyes, a certain gleam in the light reflection over his pupils, part of her knew his response before he did. a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he pursed his lips to hide the smile forcing its way on his face.

he couldn’t deny the pretty girl in front of him, he could tell she dolled herself up for this, for him. he wouldn’t let her efforts go to waste, but that wasn’t the sole reason he didn’t reject her. her confidence sparked something inside of him.

he had plenty of girls who threw themselves at him, buying him drinks, or whatever they could to get their hands on him and themselves in his bed. she was different, a breath of fresh air in the fog. her awkward nervousness was endearing. he hadn’t meant to leave her hanging so long, but he admired her.

his smile brightened, looking down at the phone she clutched so tightly, her skin began turning white. “of course, darling.”

she certainly hadn’t expected to hear the words and yet she did. she was so unprepared, scrambling through her phone. should she write it in her notes app? should she go ahead and shoot him a text? what should she send? should she send a ‘hi’ text? should she send him an imessage game? the music she had listened to throughout the week hadn’t prepared her for this.

his brow raised at her, his arms crossed in front of him as he watched her panic slightly. he was so patient, waiting for her cue that she was ready to take his number and save it in her phone. he recited the string of numbers to her and she smiled internally. she was so giddy inside, yet she couldn’t show it. she couldn’t show how much this excited her, but she would talk her friend’s ear off at her actions because for once she had done something to take a step forward towards a relationship she wanted.

“thank you!” she squeaked out, mentally facepalming—she sounded a little too grateful for something as simple as his phone number. she couldn’t wait to run far away and into the corner of her work office, hiding behind her job position.

he smiled as she scurried off, looking at his phone as it lit up at the movement. he knew to expect the text from the girl later, not now though, because he could feel the nervousness radiating from her body.

later that night, he had received the very text he had been waiting to see. an unsaved number with a blank contact photo he knew was her without reading the contents of the message. his stomach fluttered at the words in the texts, and the following imessage game, 8 ball. it was oh, so endearing to him.

the text contained a simple ‘hiii’ and a simple reminder that she was the girl who asked for his number—as if he had been handing his number out to other people. he texted back, it was simple enough because he didn’t want to scare her off, but he also didn’t want her to overwhelm with worry that he just wasn’t interested in her. he was.

simple texts throughout the day, telling each other what they’re doing, company lunches whenever they had time. flying her out to watch his races, inviting her to his driver's room to watch the race from there because the possibility of their relationship becoming a reality was just a secret for now. the entire process he was just so understanding, it baffled her. he was gentle, like a dog laying their head in your lap, so blissful and light. days he would lay across a couch with his head in her lap as he let her mess with the strands of his dark, brunette hair. she commented on different, potential haircuts his mother could give him and he chuckled at the ridiculous ones she suggested.

something so simple showed her the trust he gave her, the trust he was slowly earning.

slowly, they hung out more. instead of spending his time in clubs after podiums, he spent time with her in his drivers room, or a restaurant about to close—he would leave a hefty tip for the inconvenience.

eventually, she would appear in his garage, watching with a headset on her ears, simply posing as a ferrari employee holding more importance than she really did—except to charles, she held all the importance in the world.

she never knew how he didn’t get pricked by the thorns adorning her body, how not a scratch tainted his even skin, not a drop of blood.

maybe it was because he knew that behind the thorns that laced her body, waiting was a rose. a reward so sacred and so fragile. to be shielded from the world in his very arms was her trust, her love, her mind, her thoughts, her everything.

in his arms, she felt everything she longed for; security, openness, trust, loyalty. he showed her what her heart was worth.

—

taglist (found here): @decafmickey @slut4lrh @kaa12 @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @nhlfs @beskardroids @hiireadstuff @lorenica @delululeclerc @c-losur3 @casperlikej @thearchieves @soamericn

proofread by @foreveralbon <333

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sh1-n0bu · 1 year

Note

Omg hello fellow lumine main!

I don't know if you watched the recent Xiao teaser but i got inspired by it so if it's okay with you can you write an angsty scenario about this:

After fighting with the "evil" Xiao, Xiao feels extremely tired and after walking for a while he bumps into you in a deserted field he then confuses/ hallucinates as if you are his evil self so he starts choking you(?) tries to attack you(?) And no matter what you say your words doesn't reach his ears and he snaps out of it only when Zhongli calls his name when he happened to be passing by

Hope this is not too specific! Feel free to change any part that you don't like and it could end with whatever genre you want whether it's angst or angst with fluff!! Thank you and please ignore this if you don't feel like writing it<33

✿ 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙖 ✿

characters: xiao x nb!reader

warnings: angst, slight spoilers to xiao’s backstory, hurt/no comfort, fighting, descriptions of blood and canon violence, confession, big ouchies, major character death

notes: just wanna add that the reader doesn’t have a vision! since you didn’t specify the reader’s gender, i went with the “you” pronouns thing. also hiii❗️fellow lumine main❗️(ps: i wanted it to be different but my mitski’s playlist hurt me)

karmic debt is something that all yakshas bear in their lifetime until their timely demise. it is a collection of their evil deeds, of slaying demons, of taking the life of a corrupted being. of tainting one’s hand with blood whether that blood was already tainted or not.

out of five yakshas that guarded liyue and kept the land of any evil, three had died. minds corrupted by their own karmic debts, hearts shattered by the ones they once used to call a family, bodies torn apart, leaving behind only ashes with nothing to bury and reminisce about in the future. while one had disappeared without a trace.

out of five, only one remains.

and that one would sooner or later fall into his own karmic debt as well. it was only a matter of time. however, there was a small glimmer of hope in the yaksha’s tainted heart. a small glimmer in the shape of you.

sweet, loving you in all your glory who first met the legend of a being when he protected you from a mitachurl. kind, gentle you who thanked him later at the wangshu inn with a plate of hand-made almond tofu with a small offering at the side. thoughtful you who kept appearing every once in a while at the balcony, talking out loud to him about your day, your latest travels and business trades, knowing full well he was listening.

passionate you who gleefully accepted him with open arms when he first decided to sit beside you to hear about your day. understanding you who kept your distance when he warned you of his karmic debt, respectful of his wishes.

and the idiotic clumsy you who would sometimes trip over on the way up the stairs. who would smile at him with the same smile, calling out his name with a scratched hand or forehead. who would brush it off as something small and mediocre.

but the yaksha hated that you would always say your injuries are mediocre and “nothing to worry about”.

of course he would worry. you were one of the few people in his life that he held dear in his heart. one of the few who accepted him, karmic debt, dirty hands, tainted heart and all. the only one… he ended up falling in love with.

“if one day, this karmic debt that binds my soul becomes too much and i no longer can tell the difference between friend or a foe, call upon mister zhongli or the traveler. they’ll get rid of me before i can harm anyone” was something that the lonely yaksha would remind you often.

“it’s fine. that won’t ever happen” you would console him, hands weaving a flower crown together from the qingxin flowers he picked up for you.

“because i’ll be there to knock some sense into you” was your sweet promise as you would place the flower crown atop his head with a smile.

he always found it meaningless that you would weave the flowers into something as useless as a flower crown. but he couldn’t bring himself to ever take it off or throw it away, even after the flowers have dried up and he would pick up the fallen petals, storing them in a glass. he loved how even in death, without nourishments, the petals would continue to keep their beauty.

perhaps that’s why he always brought you flower bouquets back. ones made from random flowers. sweet flowers, glaze lilies, qingxin, silk flowers — he always brings back a flower for you whenever you visit. and on certain days when he feels an odd emotion gripping his heart, unable to tear his gaze away from you as you look at the setting sun, his gloved hand would slowly reach out, tucking one of the flowers behind your ear.

“pretty…” the lonely immortal would whisper without notice. only when you glance at him with a smile, would the yaksha realize what he had done, turn beet red and teleport away. too shy to confront his feelings, too conflicted to stay beside you, too afraid of your mortality.

there are so many times when xiao fears for your mortality.

the times when he feels his karma gripping his heart. hand clutching his jade spear tight to the point he fears he would break the weapon. blurry figures in his sight, muffled voices in his ears, an annoying high pitched ringing in his head.

it was just supposed to be another night. another night of keeping liyue safe. another night of banishing demons and abyss mages, mitachurls, what nots.

and yet it drained him so greatly. when was the last time he had ever felt this exhausted? down right almost collapsing right then and there in the fields of liyue? muscles straining, dragging his feet, vision blurry — the yaksha was exhausted.

amidst the chaos of the voices screeching in his head, demanding more blood, more death and sacrifices, xiao finds himself staring back at a familiar mask. his own mask. himself. or what kind of a twisted joke of himself it was.

their speed was evenly matched. spear swings and thrusts sharp, aimed at his weakest parts, the same feeling of adrenaline pumping as he fights against his own self. with some sort of blind luck or fate, the yaksha manages to make his other self kneel. a single plummet of his jade spear to the heart was all it took for the illusion to disappear.

this was a tiring night. xiao just wanted to go back to wangshu inn and collapse in your arms. you always had a soothing presence that quelled the karma in him.

“xiao?” a voice sounds from behind him. turning back to look at the person who spoke the immortal’s name, he finds himself growing enraged. another look alike of himself.

this was getting tiring.

and yet when the yaksha slipped on his mask and attacked, something was weird. this illusion was slower, weaker, never attacking back and he would almost daresay, felt wrong to fight against.

it didn’t took long for the seasoned fighter to leave a nasty cut on the illusion’s side, almost plunging his spear through their ribcage. he’d just have to try a bit harder then.

xiao wanted nothing more than to go back to you. to feel your arms around him. to feel your hands run through his hair, rambling on about your day or just simply choosing to stay quiet. either way, the lonely immortal loved it. he wanted to go back to you. to your loving embrace. sweet smiles. little nods when he whispered about somethings he wanted.

xiao just wanted to be with you.

just your presence alone was enough for him. he would savor the warmth your skin excludes as he sits beside you on the balcony. cherish every little moment you would spend with him. treasure the small gifts and the almond tofu you would make for him.

and yet why was it that such a familiar hand was touching his own gloved one when he finally drove his jade spear through the illusion’s chest.

it was only then the illuminated bird noticed.

there was no second ‘illusion’. there was no need to fight against the voice that called out to him. for it was you. for it was the one person he cherished the most. for it was his beloved that was now bleeding out, blood tainting the tips of his spear, warm hand covering his own gloved one. warmth that was so quickly fading away.

his beloved… that he killed.

taking his spear out, xiao moved quickly to catch your falling body. the warmth that your hug gives him, the comfort he feels now being replaced by the warmth of your blood.

“no. no no no no, h-hang on. i’ll get you to liyue harbor” what was he saying? it was no use. he had already pierced your heart straight through, there was no hope for you. but xiao wanted there to be one. xiao wanted you to stay alive so he can confess to you. xiao wanted you to live, wanted to taste your hand made almond tofu again, wanted to put flowers in your hair.

xiao wanted to spend his tomorrows with you.

“don’t. we both know i won’t make it” your voice calls out. weak, hoarse, tired. you were bleeding. eyes dull, losing life, losing it’s shine. you were dying and it was all his fault.

“please… please don’t go” the yaksha didn’t knew he was crying until his tears landed on your face. even when bleeding out, even when dying, you still smiled. and by the archons, you were still beautiful even as you lay dying in his arms.

“please don’t go. i love you too much to let you go…” the yaksha sniffled, sobs coming out as he holds you in his arms.

it was just like how you two would lay on the rooftops of wangshu inn. watching the stars, the cloud move by, pointing out the shapes as you two enjoy each other’s presence.

except the warmth that came from your body was now the warmth of your blood gushing out, staining his clothes. the smile you used to give him now dead, stoic, almost like a puppet’s forced smile. the bright shine of life that was once in your perfect [color], dull like a matted blood.

“i wanted to spend my tomorrows with you…”

#nobu.writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader angst #genshin x reader angst #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #xiao x reader #xiao x reader angst #xiao angst #gender neutral insert #gender neutral reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #and yes i quoted trigun

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 months

Note

I don’t have a picture specifically but it is my birthday today! Can you write something with Andrew surprising you when you thought he’d be on tour somewhere else and wouldn’t be able to make it for your birthday? Can start out fluffy but then turn into smut please :)

Well, let me present you with a picture then... (He is on his way.)

Happy Belated Birthday, love. (It seems we share that special day. 😉) I hope you don't mind I kept it fluffy this time. I'm having a mild fever and I couldn't handle more heat than I am already battling with.

warnings: language; a little heartache

Only fifteen minutes left. Thank god, you thought. You could not wait for this day to be over.

It was your birthday today. And you loved your birthday. But birthdays without Andrew sucked. It did not even feel like a real birthday, much less like a day you wanted to celebrate. And so you had not.

You had told your friends and family that you would be busy at work all day and that after that, you definitely would not be in the mood for company. And astonishingly, they had all accepted your excuse and taken to calling or texting you instead of coming round to congratulate you in person.

All the better, you thought, as you prepared to go to bed. Disposing of your empty glass in the sink, you walked over to the open window. The world outside lay in complete silence, slowed by the darkness of night that had settled a while ago. It was time to let go of the day and rest.

But how could you let go? How could you find peace when a part of you was missing, leaving a void in your chest that seemed to grow bigger with every passing second, like a black hole that swallowed all the goodness you should have felt on a day like this?

You sighed. This was unfair. You knew it was. It was unfair to you as much as it was unfair to him. If there would even be the slightest chance, the tiniest possibility, he would be here with you right now, no doubt. And still you felt like crying.

He had called you, first thing in the morning and you had talked for a long while. He had reserved some extra time for you, more than he usually could, and still you missed him. So much. More than you had ever thought it possible to miss someone. In some moments, the worst of them, when you just could not hold up your walls anymore, it hurt. It hurt to a point that you needed to lie down and roll up into a bundle of misery, and all you could do was just stay like that until the pain had faded.

Afterwards you always felt a little stupid for being so whiny. He would be back with you soon enough, no time to act like a clingy puppy. But most importantly, he could never know. It would break his heart. And one broken heart was bad enough already.

You jolted as your ears picked up the harsh buzzing of your phone on the living room table. Probably another message of birthday wishes, you assumed, as you walked over to pick it up. But as soon as you read the name on the screen your heart jumped a little. It was his goodnight text. He sent you one every night.

Told the moon to hold all my love. So don’t be surprised if it shines a little brighter tonight. Just for you.

Well, someone had clearly been listening to an awful lot of Mitski lately, you thought, and chuckled to yourself. But only one glance outside was enough to make your heart drop, opening the vaults, and letting your eyes spill over. The moon was nowhere to be seen.

If only he were—

But you did not get to end that thought as the clock made you jump again, telling you it was midnight. Your birthday finally over.

The wave of relief that washed over you made you sigh through the tears. Time to go to bed at last. With two harsh strokes of the back of your hand, the visible remains of your heartache were gone and you were just about to switch off the lights, when an unexpected noise startled you for the third time tonight.

Had that been a knock on your door? At this time? It could not be. You had probably misheard. Still you chose to stay for a moment and wait, and it did not take long before it came again. Loud and clear this time.

This was impossible. Insufferable. Had you not been absolutely clear about not wanting any company today? Well, obviously not. But you would correct that mistake right away.

“I told you I didn’t want to see anyone. Go away!”

But instead of some well-earned silence, there was another knock.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you just leave me alone?”

Obviously they could not. Just as they most likely could not read the atmosphere to understand when it was time to leave. And when they even showed the audacity to knock yet again, you felt like you had no other choice. With a huff of pure rage you stomped over to the door, let your hand smash down on the knob and yanked it open. May god have mercy on the poor soul that was waiting outside.

There had been so many words on your mind, all the curses and swearwords your vocabulary had to offer, but as soon as your eyes landed upon the intruder that stood in your doorway, you could not remember even the simplest one of them all.

“I just wanted to make sure the moon is shining perfectly for you."

This was not real. It could not be. You had probably fallen asleep and your desperate mind had chosen to give you exactly what you needed, what you had been craving ever since he had left through that exact same door, looking back at you from a pair of watery green eyes. But it seemed you were not granted this little treat for long as tears began to blur your vision once again.

“The moon is not even shining tonight,” you managed to pipe up, your voice breaking halfway through your statement, making it sound awfully shrill.

“So, it’s a good thing I came then. Because how else would you have know how much I love you?”

A loud, clattering noise echoed through the night as his bag fell to the ground. It had taken him less than a heartbeat to decide whether to hold on to it or hold you instead, and as his arms closed around you now, the familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours, back where he belonged, for the first time in months your heart seemed to remember its natural rhythm again.

“Sorry I’m late, baby.”

You hugged him a little tighter, basking in the way his breath slowly crept along your neck as he spoke, the way even one word from his mouth was enough to silence the white noise in your brain and let you breathe again.

“It would be so out of character if you weren’t.”

You chuckled, and so did he.

“Happy Birthday, my love.”

#hozier #hozier x you #hozier x reader #request

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angxlofvenus · 1 year

Text

A Shoulder To Cry On

Requested By: @saturnsapothecary Genre: Hurt/comfort Ship: The brothers x reader TW: Mentions of crying, distressed reader, physical contact, Undisclosed stressful situation, soft characters, angst tbh Word count: 1,107 An: Hi! What you are about to read is probably the most angsty thing I have written thus far. I joke a lot in my other writings but in this one I went with a more somber approach, mostly bc I listened to Mitski while writing this entire thing, Anyway, Heed the TW, and Happy reading ♥️

Pt. 2 can be found here (Dateables+Luke edition!)

It had been a rough week, 'Thankfully it's Friday' You thought, Climbing up The HoL staircase as you felt yourself start to break, By the time you had reached your room- all you could do was walk in, close the door, and start crying, collapsing onto the floor, Not hearing the door reopen and a certain demon pop his head inside...

Lucifer

Immediate concern, What has happened?

He makes a bee-line toward you, kneeling infront of you.

Will rub soft and slow circles into your back as you start to calm down

Once he knows nothing is currently threatening you in any way, He would lead you to his bedroom (Not like that, get your head out of the gutter)

Will offer you a beverage as you sit on his bed, You don’t have to talk to him but…He is here for you and he needs you to know that.

If you want physical comfort, He will sit on his bed, gather you up into his arms and start to rock the two of you, His body crashed against yours like gentle waves, Pulling you in and then pushing you back out.

If you don’t wish to be touched, He absolutely understands either way. He hopes his soft-spoken words of comfort will help you.

He gets it, He feels nonstop worry and exhaustion from his many duties, He strives to make the Devildom a happy place for you but he knows he can not always insure that, But let him try to fix what has plagued you.

Mammon

When he finds you crying he feels horrendous and angry, Not at you of course! Just-

He’s supposed to be your first man, The guy you can find solace in no matter what! But looking at your tear-stained face he can’t help but feel like he’s failed you in a way

He will do everything in his power to help you though, He may have not been there to stop this all from happening but that doesn’t mean you have to go through this alone!

Ask and you shall receive, No complaints! Anything you want that will make your grief lessen, He’d do it for you.

He isn’t the best speaker but he’ll start shooting off at the mouth about how much he cares about you and how he hates seeing you like this- Please let him help, In any way he can.

Levi

Panic, He can barely handle himself- Let alone another person!

With shaky hands he will put a hand on your shoulder before looking at your reaction,

If you want Physical comfort, he will slot himself beside you, not outwardly touching you, just kind of leaning onto you

If not, His hand retracts rapidly as he instead sits across from you

Either way, He’ll quietly ask if you want to talk about it, After your done talking/You tell him no- He will invite you to his room where you all spend the rest of the night watching your favorite animes/series

He knows he can’t take away all of your pain, But he hopes he can atleast put some nicer things in your mind

Satan

Brows furrowed, He takes quick but cautious steps toward you, almost like he would a cat.

The first thing that comes to his mind is anger, “Are you okay? Who did this?” He will ask you as softly as he could.

When he finds out what has happened, He will feel the surge of anger come back to him, Not at you- never at you, But at the world. He hates how powerless he feels in these moments, knowing there is nothing for him to solve.

So instead he does what he knows how to do, He takes you through breathing exercises and ways to help you calm down, He has spent centuries managing his anger so he has learned a thing or two-

Will talk you through your worries if you wanted before walking off, Only to then bring back your favorite book with him. He reads to you in the same soft voice you have grown to love, He knows he is only one demon but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to take the weight off your shoulders.

Asmo

His first thought is to swarm you, Asking questions, giving hugs, wiping away your tears- the whole nine yards

But he won’t. He knows how to respect boundaries no matter what, So he pushes down the feeling, instead dropping to his knees infront of you and asking what’s wrong.

If you want a hug or a shoulder to cry on he is their the second it comes out of your mouth, You don’t have to pretend with him, not ever- He won’t think badly of you for anything you vent to him about- He is there for you no matter what, Through thick and thin.

Only if your feeling up to it ofcourse, He’ll lead you to his room and bring out his ‘self care box’ The ice mask he lays across your face washes away the remnants of your tears as his hand cards through your hair

Beel

Drops all of his snacks in a flurry to get to you.

Unlike the others, He is looking for injuries- So your personal bubble is feeling a little violated

Once you tell him you are physically fine, His shoulders relax some and he takes a step away from you and says that he’s sorry for running up on you like that.

Gentle giant mode activated, Is gonna talk to you like he does Belphie, Asking what’s wrong and how he can help.

He feels so much responsibility for you, As he does all of his family, And is so crushed that he can’t go back in time and help you

He starts to think about what makes him cheer up and asks if you’d want to go to Madame Screams with him, If yes then he would put in all of his effort to making you forget all of your troubles

If no, He get’s it! Sometimes he doesn’t wanna go out either, He’ll just offer to go and pick up whatever you like from anywhere, No matter what!

He wishes he could do more but sharing a dessert with you sounds like a good start.

Belphie

Blinks twice, Trying to see if he was seeing things right

Will make his way over to you in confusion, “Hey what’s wrong?”

You decide whether you actually tell him or not, he’s chill either way- He understands why you would and wouldn’t want to talk to him about it

He isn’t the best at comforting but he does what he can, He’ll move y’all to your bed and will even give you his special cow pillow

Will start talking about random things, anything and everything- Letting his voice will you to sleep, Making sure that all of your dreams are nothing but happy days, Days he’d hope to make a reality soon.

Hey! Fancy seeing you here, I get that this post was a little heavy on the feelings, I just wanted everyone out there to know that You are not alone- No matter what you are going through and that my Dms and inbox are always open if you need to vent or just to talk in general, My blog is a safe space to anybody who needs it 🖤

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beautifulbrainrot · 10 months

Note

”moon tell me if i could send up my heart to you”

this is give post full moon remus whos just let reader see his transformation for the first time. They sit together afterwords in the shrieking shack with holding hands. Remus is like “how could you ever love me im a monster” and r just tells him how beautiful he is and how they wish that he could see himself through their eyes 😭

-🍓

moon tell me if i could, send up my heart to you mitski, my love mine all mine

you sat with remus, soft hand clasped in his rough, scarred one, leaning against each other.

you quickly noticed when remus began sniffling, and you held him close, arms wrapped around him, squeezing tightly as he sobbed into you shoulder.

he cried for a while and you held him through it, tears in your own eyes as sobs wracked through his body.

when the tears dried on his cheeks, he lifted his head up from your shoulder.

“how- how could you ever love me. how can you hold me, comfort me, knowing what i am? i’m a monster.” he spoke, his voice broken and teary.

your almost broke down right there. how could he not understand? how could he not realise how much you loved him, how much you cared for him, no matter what. he was your everything.

you thought for a second how you would answer him, not because you were unsure, but because you didn’t know how to express and put your love for him into words.

you knew, if you could, you would send your heart to the moon, so that every time the full moon shone on him, and he turned into something he could not control, your love and your light would be shining down on him, always there for him, when you couldn’t physically be.

“i wish you could see yourself through my eyes, remus. see your beauty. see the love i have for you. because i do. i love you.”

you reached up, placing a hand on his tear stained, scarred and freckled cheek softly. he leaned into your palm, his eyes wide and shining.

“i love you too.”

you sat there together as the sun rose, holding each other close, no more words needed.

send in more mitski lyrics !! also i cant tell if this is terrible because i listened to my love mine all mine while writing and i was in pieces.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #marauders era fanfiction #🍓#🍓 anon

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glitter-stained · 26 days

Text

I'm always thinking about Jason because fixation so my judgement is biaised because every song I listen to makes me think about at least one of my Jasons, but here are some songs though were definitely written for and about canon Jason Todd, and I will take no criticism (but you are definitely welcome to add your own songs):

-Take me To War, by The Crane Wives

>"But I keep snapping at Goliath hands with all of my tiny might"/ "All of the fire I swallowed, all of the sparks that went down in my guts, I am always burning out"/ "I'll be the sweetest thing to ever scare you"

The Robin -> Red Hood transition is so seamless

-Little Soldiers by the Crane Wives

> "On the broken back of all the words we spared, Like little soldiers in the trenches; It was a march we made towards ruin and despair, But we held hands all the while"

I always rant about how how Jason's character and story is centered around love, this is the song that plays in my head while I'm yapping

-Blue Lips by Regina Spektor

> "He took a step but then felt tired, He said I'll rest a little while; but when he tried to walk again, he wasn't a child"

If you ever wanna be sad about Jason's resurrection, catatonia and stolen childhood, this is the song to listen to

-The Horrors and The Wild by The Amazing Devil

"Think of all the horrors that I promised I'd bring, I promise they'll sing of every Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child, Witness me old man I am the Wild"

> If Under The Red Hood has one song it's this one

-The Old Witch Sleep and The Good Man Grace by The Amazing Devil

"There's a fire burning/And I'm learning to be/So much more than my tiredness/ So much more than that old witch sleep wishes/ She kisses my eyelids, and I/Breathe"

> If Red Hood: Lost Days (minus the gross bits) has one song it's this one

-Elsa's song by The Amazing Devil

>"And you'll throw some sage and lillies/ And roses where I'll rot/ Of all the flowers you picked/I knew you would forget/ Forget-me-nots"

idk who Elsa is this is about how Jason was grieved but he wasn't remembered

(Yeah I'm pretty convinced that at least either Madeline Hyland or Joey Batey read Under the Red Hood so many of their songs fit so well I restrained myself to three but there are so many)

-A Burning Hill by Mitski

>"I'm tired of wanting more, I think I'm finally worn/ For you have a way of promising things/ And I've been a forest fire"

Jason admitting loss and giving up on begging Bruce is something that can be so personal actually

-Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless

>"Now you're on your knees with your head hung low/ Big Man tell you where to go/ Tell them it's good, tell them okay/Don't do a goddamn thing they say"

Crime Alley united!!! Also, "tell the big guy I said hello" :))) (the God/Batman amalgam in Death in the Family is such an incredible one-liner and works so well for Jason omg)

-For the Departed by Shayfer James

>"Now I must finished what I started/I'll write a symphony for the departed/And I have no time for second chances/ So I survive on bourbon blood and backward glances"

The amount of angst, dramatics and intense devotion to his cause at the cost of his life, the literature references, everything about this song? Jason at his angstiest for sure

-Goodbye by Bo Burnham

> "If I wake up in a house that's full of smoke I'll panic/So call me up and tell me a joke/ When I'm fully irrelevant and totally broken dammit/ Call me up and tell me a joke /Oh shit/ You're really joking at a time like this"

exploded warehouse parallel aside, this song feels like not being able to heal because you're not capable of asking for what you really need, wanting to come back but feeling like you aren't allowed to because it would ruin you or the you that was shaped by other's perception of you and most importantly, begging to matter and to have mattered. So. Jason.

#jason todd #dc #batman #red hood #robin #robin ii #jaybin #under the red hood #batman under the red hood #red hood lost days #the crane wives #regina spektor #the amazing devil #mitski #the pretty reckless #shayfer james #bo burnham #jason todd meta

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jenflirts · 1 year

Text

my lovely, jenna

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 : Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎 : Angst

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 : you have been adoring Jenna since you were little

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 : mention of homophobia and Language & also my bad writing

A/N: kings and queens era. listen to the song if you ever want to feel what I felt while writing this lol.

“Jenna, can I tell you something? Promise me you won’t run away or freak out” You said as you sat down under the tree where the two of you often sit just for shade.

Jenna nodded and sat down beside you looking at you adoringly.

Jenna and You have been friends since you can remember—the two of you did everything together whether it’s good or bad—it’s been a few months since she turned eighteen and you thought about asking her for a marriage proposal. You never ran this down to your parents nor hers, but you will once you get her consent.

“Jenna, we’ve known each other since we were kids and I’ve been adoring you since then. I knew what I was feeling is all wrong, I knew that I won’t be accepted for being who I am, but to hell with that—I would go through the depths of hell just to love you freely, I would course through war and have my heart pierced just to make you mine—I love you, every part of you I would be on my knees and worship you just so you could feel how much I appreciate you. I want you to be mine for eternity, I would love to have you by my side and rule this kingdom with me”

Jenna’s look softened when she looked at your hopeful eyes, all her what if’s and worries for what other thinks faded away. As long she’s with you she knows that everything will be fine.

“I love you too, I promise you that you only have my heart and no one else can have it” Jenna replied.

You were content, you have her and no one else can.

It’s the day that you’ve been waiting for, the day that the both of you are waiting for, it’s Jenna’s and Yours special day. Jenna’s practically trying her best to calm down and not panic, overthinking if she did the right thing, if her dress looks good on her, her saying yes to this marriage, and her being a good queen to this kingdom. She wanted you here, but you can’t see her just yet. A knock interrupted Jenna’s panicking mind and told the person to come in and help her calm down.

Emma saw the girl’s state and went to her and gave a box of tissues and tried to calm her down, but to no avail. Emma thought of giving her the letter that you gave her earlier this morning with a light-weighted box.

“Y/n told me to give you this, she said read the letter first then open the box” Emma said as she handed Jenna the envelope and the box.

Jenna hurriedly opened the envelope containing a letter with some tear stains.

My lovely, Jenna

I hope this letter finds you well, I want to apologize for my inappropriate behavior and not attending your special day. I know you want me to be there and I want to be there too, my love, but I want to be the one waiting for you at the end of the aisle. I want to be the one holding you, I want to be the one appreciating your beauty, I want to be the one sacrificing my life just to save yours and I want to be the one assuring you that I love you every single day.

My love, I know you’re doubting yourself and every decision you have made, but I’m here to assure you that you did not. You will be an amazing queen to this kingdom and my brother is lucky to have you as his wife.

I know this is too late to give to you, but once you finish this letter open the box that Emma gave you and read one poem. All of them are about you, my love. If you ever need to let yourself know that you’re appreciated, just read one of my poems because every single one of it is about you.

Jenna, I just want you to know that this is also my last letter to give to you as I will be joining the knights for the upcoming war. Father instructed me to lead them and as a child that wanted to go to the fields I’m honored to lead them. I promise you that I’ll be back and still love you, and if not, I will be waiting for you and hope that I could love you again like I did before.

Congratulations on your wedding, my love.

I love you so much.

Sincerely your loving friend,

Y/N Y/L/N

Jenna was stunned, she dropped the letter at the table and opened the box hurriedly and to her surprise it was full of folded paper—she never knew that it would be full of paper because of it being light-weighted—she picked up one paper and read.

Your eyes, like stars, in the midnight sky, Hold secrets and dreams that make my heart fly. Your smile, a beacon, in the darkest night, Fills my world with warmth and light.

In the curve of your lips, the softness of your gaze, A beauty that leaves me in endless amaze. A secret admiration, I can't help but feel, In your presence, my heart's secrets I conceal.

Though silent, this love in my heart resides, In friendship's embrace, it sweetly abides. For you, my love, are a work of art, A beauty that's etched within my heart.

Jenna knew she fucked up by accepting your brother’s proposal, she knew she hurt you, but she was too blind for it to see, she wanted to let the remarks of her relationship with you to subside that’s why she accepted this. She wanted you, she wanted to be with you for eternity too like the one that you both promised.

#Spotify #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x you #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega x female reader

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annasinterests · 1 year

Text

going out, she's getting into something

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: here's my contribution for the season, witches! i had SO much fun writing this piece and i hope to get out more for this month! i definitely didn't think it'd be this long but i absolutely loved where it went. also ten points if you could tell when the tone shifted because i started listening to mitski LOL

the dividers are by @saradika — be sure to check them out! 🤍

word count: 10.4k

pairings: arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings & tags: minors dni, halloween time!!! tried to be historically accurate but then again this is fiction y'all, readers having the time of her life honestly, pining, cursing, mentions of alcohol, perhaps some errors??, and some wholesome moments here n there :) — please tell me if i missed anything!

“I already told you girls, the answer is no.”

She didn’t look up from her washing basin as she gave a firm response, her voice tinged with fatigue from the relentless persistence on this matter.

Miss Grimshaw– the unyielding matriarch of the gang– always looking out for the best interest of the camp, even if it meant extinguishing your hopes of a joyous venture beyond its confines.

Normally, you’d accept the answer and move on. But this time, that wasn’t the case. No, you’d been going at it all this week, employing every conceivable tactic to sway her decision– most of which involved volunteering for additional chores atop your designated ones already– because today wasn’t just any other day.

It was Halloween.

And you were damned if you weren’t going out to celebrate it in all its glory.

“Ms. Grimshaw, please,” you continued to beg, “I won’t ask for a thing more!”

The ceaseless scrubbing paused, her hands moving to wipe across her skirt before pressing them against her forehead, muttering words only audible to herself. You stood before her eagerly, hands folded neatly over your apron, shoulders squared– striving to project an aura of innocence that might influence her.

She shook her head as her hands fell hard on her lap, huffing out a frustrated sigh. “Go ask Dutch. If he says it's fine, then you girls can go.”

The elation you felt at her response made you want to dart away before she could have second thoughts, yet your feet remained in the same spot of the muddy grass your heels slowly sunk into. She eyed you as she stood up, your presence a mystery even though she’d already granted your request.

Even though she kept you all on a tight leash, her actions were rooted in sound judgment.

The whole reason there was any stability at camp at all was because of her, no matter how long or short you stayed in some places. She possessed an innate sense of what needed to be done, always placing the welfare of the camp, and more particularly, her girls, at the forefront, even if she had a funny way of showing it sometimes.

“Won’t you come out, too?” Maybe it was naive of you to ask, given she almost never step foot outside camp unless absolutely necessary.

Her hardened stare softened for a moment, peering behind you at camp momentarily as if she really were contemplating it. Her gaze returned to you, her eyebrows drawn together with the faintest curl on her lips.

“What happened to not asking for another thing?”

With a small smile and nod, you excused yourself and set out to find Dutch.

Much to your surprise, he wasn’t in his tent, and a lack of an answer of his whereabouts from Ms. O’Shea didn’t help. Nor did one from Javier out on the post claiming that he hadn’t seen him ride in or out today. And through your thorough search around camp, none revealed a trace of the man you eagerly sought.

On your way back to his tent for a second try, you recognized a figure donning a signature white shirt and black vest standing at the far end of camp, where the view was best of Horseshoe Overlook.

Your smile grew wider with each step to approach him, only calling his name when you were within a few feet.

“Dutch! Can I-”

While your voice caught his attention, it had also gotten the man who stood just nearby him, concealed by the trees until now. You came to an abrupt stop, flickering your widening gaze between the men, feeling hot embarrassment creep onto your cheeks.

It’d been Arthur.

He’d only looked over his shoulder to you, still facing the canyon with his thumbs tucked into his gun belt. The brim of his hat rested just above his eyes as he appraised you, running his eyes up and down your figure.

“I’m sorry..” Your hands instinctively folded against your stomach, “I didn’t realize you were..”

A low chuckle rumbled from Dutch’s chest as he approached you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Nonsense, Miss. Arthur and I were just enjoying the view. Why don’t you join us?”

Your gaze shifted from Dutch’s to Arthur’s, who maintained his position with his chin tucked over his shoulder. He gave no indication as to whether or not your presence affected him, and a slight unease settled in as he was usually quick with a polite comment or sarcastic remark, but he did neither and continued to look at you.

Returning your attention to Dutch, you found him patiently waiting for your response– one hand lingering on your shoulder while the other was outstretched in an invitation to join them at the plateau.

Your lips curled up into a small smile as you walked forward, Dutch appearing to your right and Arthur to his.

The view was nothing short of breathtaking. Below and in the distance, dense forests and mountain ranges stretched for miles, a white veil of mist shrouded at the peaks, and the Dakota River flowed through the canyon, its waters reflecting the brilliant blue of the sky.

What made the scene even more enchanting was the weather– the sun shining bright with barely any clouds to obstruct its rays, its warmth a delight on your skin. The air was crisp in a way that each breath rejuvenated your lungs, a cool and fresh quality trademarked by the fall season.

“What do you think, Miss?” He asked without averting his gaze.

You turned to him, stealing another glance before you, “Pretty as a picture, Dutch.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he softly echoed your sentiment. “Indeed it is.”

For a moment, your eyes fell to Arthur. Like Dutch, he made no move to look away, fully immersed and reveling in the simple pleasures of the moment. His hat still lowered over his eyes, shielding sunlight from those bright blues that could be the sweetest or most intimidating sight. His facial scruff was perfectly tailored for the season– substantial yet manageable, complementing his rugged appearance.

Even in his relaxed stance, you could see his clothing fighting to fit around his muscles, especially in the shoulders and arms. The cuffs of his sleeves clung snugly to his forearms, the contours of his strength evident in raised veins and muscular definition. His thumbs remained tucked into his belt, his large hands lazily curling over it, an embodiment of quiet strength and presence.

A flurry of thoughts swirled in your head– the loudest among them an undeniable realization of just how incredibly attractive this man was.

And how this definitely wasn’t the first time you were thinking this.

You hadn’t realized that you were looking right at him while your thoughts were running wild, and immense embarrassment hit you like a freight train when your eyesight focused on him staring right back at you.

To compound your mortification, your initial reaction was to smile– a smile that aimed to conceal the fact that you had been thoroughly checking him out. You tried to maintain some air of sweetness and innocence, but you knew he could see right through it.

It faltered when he broke contact and looked down, his hat serving as a convenient shield to hide his face entirely. You squeezed your eyes shut and bit your lip, cursing your own lack of composure. It was painfully obvious. You’d gone ahead and made a fool of yourself in front of the man.

Dutch’s voice interrupted your thoughts and commanded you to pull your attention back.

“Camp’s in mighty fine shape thanks to the help of you women here,” he remarked, finally looking at you. “Your contributions are always valued.”

You smoothed out your skirt, a chuckle leaving your lips. “Wouldn’t be as good as it is without Miss Grimshaw. That woman is the glue that keeps us together, I swear by it.”

“That she is.” He agreed, “But with all the effort you ladies put in, I ought to say that you girls deserve a little time to yourselves. Not in camp, that is.”

Your jaw slacked and eyes sparkled with excitement. Barely able to contain the thrill that coursed through your body, your hands began to gesture emphatically as you started up.

“Actually, that’s why I was looking for you!” A grin spread on his face as he took notice of your demeanor, “The girls and I have been dying to go out!”

You caught Arthur lift his head to you, but continued on.

“We would love to go out to town,” you reached out and grazed his arm as he listened, “pleeease, Dutch. Just for tonight?”

He nodded, that reassuring hand finding your shoulder again. “Of course, how could I say no to that?”

You beamed at him, buzzing with even more excitement.

“Where would you ladies like to go? Valentine? Perhaps even Strawberry?”

You bit down on your lip again in a futile attempt to suppress the wicked smile that grew on your face, sheepishly shrugging your shoulders. “Saint Denis?”

“Saint Denis?” Arthur interjected before anyone could speak, stepping in front of Dutch and briefly glancing at you, “Dutch, that’s–”

“Quite alright if that’s where they want to go,” Dutch smoothly derailed his refute, “Arthur.”

But Arthur, being the obstinate man he was, didn’t heed the cue. He furrowed his brows and tilted his head, “That's far, Dutch. Too far.”

Dutch fell silent for a moment, drawing a hand to his hip and shifting his weight to one foot. You wanted to say something to counter Arthur’s point, but you knew his standing with Dutch, so contradicting him could jeopardize your argument, especially after Dutch had already expressed his approval.

“Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we’ll all be going to Saint Denis tonight.”

Dutch’s ability to orchestrate a plan that convinced everyone to head down to Saint Denis was a mystery to you, but the best part was that you had absolutely no responsibility in their efforts to move camp for a night.

Because the only thing you had to focus on was having fun.

After Dutch’s final say, Arthur grumbled, shook his head, and retreated back into camp. It likely didn’t improve his mood when you broke the news to the girls and you all erupted in joyful shouts and jumped around, clinging to one another out of pure delight.

Or when you all approached Lenny and Javier in front of him to ask if they’d take you to town and they agreed without putting up the slightest fight.

Or when you couldn’t resist teasing him by suggesting that he wear his best costume for the evening ahead, earning you a glare that you couldn’t help but smirk at.

You hadn’t even had the chance to get out a proper goodbye to the boys as Tilly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you off the wagon to emerge yourselves in the scene of the town, disappearing into the crowds on the paved streets and dodging the ever flowing trams.

Jack O'Lanterns adorned nearly everywhere you turned, perched atop picket fences that lined the slums to the mansion district. Hay bales, while adding to the festive atmosphere, served as a dual purpose as both sustenance for horses and a playground for children to climb upon– an amusing sight that elicited giggles from you.

Karen had led you all into the markets where several vendors hunkered down for the long night ahead, selling various treats and services from harvest foods, to jewelry, to fortune tellings. They all beckoned and invited you over with their expert sales tactics, and usually you would be able to just ignore them, but given today, you gave in to a woman at a jewelry stand.

You and the girls encircled her table and ogled at all the shiny pieces before you, your hands hovering over a splendid array of rings, earrings, and necklaces. With the utmost care, you picked up a ring to examine it further, capturing the saleswoman's attention.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous.” Mary-Beth leaned in to admire it with you, “I’ve never seen somethin’ quite like that before.”

She was absolutely right; it was one of the finest pieces you’d ever seen, far surpassing what you’d observed other women wear. It was a tri-colored gold ring– a dainty gold rose in the middle, flanked by a pink and green leaf to each side, all set against a band crafted with a delicate weaving pattern.

“Would you like to try it on?” The woman offered with a kind smile. “See how it fits?”

You slipped it on your ring finger with ease, gently turning your wrist to admire it from different angles. It hugged against your skin like it was meant to be.

But when you looked down at the price tag, you quickly changed your mind.

“This is a very lovely piece,” you took it off and placed it back on the table, earning a raised brow from Karen, “but it’s more than what I can offer.”

The woman simply nodded at your honesty. You were well aware that most items in these markets were overpriced, with prices inflated to maximize profit, but you felt that this one was truly worth it’s value. With a polite smile, you stepped away from the table and began to walk off with the girls, your heart feeling a little heavy but knowing it wasn’t the end of the world.

But a gentle hand on your elbow caught your attention, pulling you away from the group– the woman.

She took your hand and cupped hers over it, feeling a small object fall into it. Silently, she observed as her hand revealed what she’d given you.

The ring.

Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ shape and your eyes widened, quickly covering it with your other hand.

“Ma’am, I can’t possibly– I don’t have enough–” Her hand on your arm again made you quiet.

“You could’ve easily stolen it from me, but you told the truth and walked away.” Her smile was warm as she plucked the ring from your hand and slipped it on your finger. “Not many people do that here in Saint Denis.”

You looked at her sympathetically, holding her hands in your own, “How can I repay you?”

She grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Come back if you wind up stealing from anyone else.”

You muffled your laughter with a hand over your mouth, giving her a knowing look as she playfully shooed you off with a wink.

You were certainly going to pay her another visit.

Rejoining the girls, you discreetly but excitedly displayed your new possession, allowing each of them to take a turn at holding it up to their faces for a closer look, their voices filled with admiration for its beauty.

Moving out of the markets, you came across the park of Saint Denis. A massive tent had been pitched across the field with people busy setting it up for the evening’s events, clearly designed to cater to a younger crowd. Beneath it were several rows of seats arranged in front of a stage that featured a couple of large basins evenly spaced apart– instantly recognizing it for apple-bobbing. Taking notice of the flairs of red gingham about the area, it made you smile with the detail put into celebrating the day.

The girls had been chattering excitedly about something you hadn’t been fully tuned into, but you snapped back to attention when Karen seized your hand and urged you to run.

Spinning around, Mary-Beth and Tilly were a few paces ahead to your right while Sadie came bolting closer from your left, a wicked grin spread on her face as she pointed towards the other two girls.

“Jump on that trolley!”

Without a second thought, you began weaving in and out of the crowd, your knees kicking your skirt up with each leap. Laughter escaped from you as you heard the startled cries of townsfolk being pushed aside in your hasty getaway, though you really had no idea why you were running at all.

You grabbed Tilly’s hand and hauled yourself up as Mary-Beth did with Karen, whipping around and sticking your hand out for Sadie who was too far away for your liking. Your heart was pounding as the men behind her were catching up, your smile from the adrenaline dropping and turning into panic.

Glancing back, you saw the trolley was due to turn a corner, inevitably too quick for Sadie to keep up with. Your panic escalated until you spotted a way to effectively cut off her pursuers– a tall stack of hay bales just waiting to be tipped over.

Swiftly, you sat on the rail and leaned back with the three girls holding your legs and waist, giving you the ultimate leverage.

“Sadie!” You shouted. “Cut the corner when I say!”

A thumbs up from her was good enough for you. You quickly alternated your gaze between her and the approaching corner, slowly leaning back and stretching out your arm until you couldn’t anymore, your adrenaline pulsing through your entire body now.

With one last look, you yelled your cue, and at the last moment threading your fingers through a band of twine and yanking with all your might.

Slowly, then all of once, they came tumbling down like you intended, fellow townspeople causing an even bigger commotion– or distraction, for your case. The men had no choice but to stop, tripping over the bales and crashing into other people, your plan executed perfectly except for one crucial detail– Sadie.

Frantically, you scanned the crowd, gripping the rail so hard that you were sure to put a dent in it. Shit– Had they got to her after the cut?

Before you could conjure a series of worst-case scenarios, she came sprinting from your right and jumped on to the trolley with ease, all of you ushering inside and taking a seat to catch your breaths.

“I keep tellin’ ya' to trade that skirt for pants, girl.” Sadie smacked your knee, “With quick thinkin’ like that, it’s a waste you don’t get out more.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. The thrill of doing jobs got you antsy, seeing it was something that you could seriously enjoy once in a while, but being a caretaker was what you were at heart. You liked providing stability in a different way.

“What in the hell was all that about?” Karen asked before you could while fanning herself with her hand, “You’re supposed to save the mischief for later, ya’ know.”

Sadie smirked and raised her hands defensively, “I may have miscalculated some things, but–” she dug into her pockets and revealed two handfuls of money, jewelry, and pocket watches. “I think it was worth it.”

You sighed back into your seat as Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen hovered over to get a better look, “I say we take that and go straight to a saloon.”

Sadie shot you an incredulous look, “I just worked my tail off for this, and you wanna spend it already?”

“No–” You dragged a hand over your face and huffed out a laugh, “For bets, idiot. Take more from their pockets, but the fair way.”

She contemplated for a moment. “I ain’t very good at table games.”

“I am!” Karen perked up.

You shot a sly look at Sadie, the dots connecting immediately. And just as you found your new activity for the next couple hours, the trolley slowed to a stop, and you all quickly hopped out the back and right into Doyle’s Tavern.

Hours in, Sadie was racking up more cash and treasures than all five of you could even carry.

It’d been more packed than when you first entered, the festive spirit flourishing through the establishment. On top of all the autumnal decorations already in place, skeletons dangled behind the bar and burning candles littered about to give the right impression of mischievous yet inviting. Round tables were busy with patrons, some full of drinks, others invested in rounds of poker or dominoes– like your own. And when you weren’t glued to a game, you were at the bar flirting your way for a free drink or charming men just to get close enough to discreetly pilfer valuables from their person.

Now, you sauntered over to Karen’s side after taking a brief stroll and glance at Sadie’s hand from the opposite side of the table. While you weren’t intimately familiar with poker, you knew what constituted the best possible hand, and it just so happened that your dear friend held that in her fingers without even knowing it.

You could see the men at the table underestimating her, their smug smiles stemming from her being the lone woman and their belief that they held the winning hand.

But none of them came close to a royal flush.

Nudging Karen, you whispered your observation, a smirk appearing on her face instantly. She shot Sadie a wink– the cue to let them have it– and watched the scene unfold as she splayed her cards across the table.

Their smug smiles dropped to open-mouthed astonishment and disapproving grumbles, slamming their hands down on the table and begrudgingly pushing their bets towards her. She kept her head down in a noble act, but it was really to hide the shit-eating grin on her face as the table cleared and her opponents drudged to the bar for another much needed drink after losing their fourth consecutive round.

Sadie joined you at the side as you all began to leave with the earnings. “God, why don’t we do this more often?” She mused while placing a chunk of wealth into your hands, “Better than the guys doin’ busted-up, ass-backwards jobs if ya’ ask me.”

Mary-Beth spun around and walked backwards as she received her cut, “Well we would if Miss Grimshaw wasn’t such a damn witch.”

“Mhm,” Karen agreed over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw her ridin’ a broom tonight.”

Amid their hearty laughter, you quietly chuckled. You knew that despite her being a hell-bound handler, she loved you girls more than anything.

“Y’all are terrible,” you playfully chided while poking them in the back, “both of you!”

The sun had set as you entered the streets of Saint Denis again, now lit up by streetlights, candles, and Jack O’Lanterns. Your eyes twinkled at the sights, the town completely transforming for the night life. Children roamed the sidewalks in noisy groups, no doubt ready to wreak havoc and fully embody the spirit of mischief. Townsfolk flooded in front of every tavern, saloon, and vicinity that promised alcohol, money, and a good time.

But what really caught your eye was the other women– more precisely, their attire.

Left and right you spotted the most beautiful Victorian dresses you’d laid eyes upon– rich in color and carefully designed with the best materials money could buy– and as well as soft and colorful medieval gowns that fluttered and flowed in the gentle breeze. You couldn’t help but stare in awe of their beauty and how well-fitting they were for the evening.

Sadie saw your hands curl around your money as your eyes flitted around and a sly smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Ya’ know, there’s a boutique just around the corner.”

You shrugged at the idea, but she insisted. “Don’t give me none of that– Go on, go get yourself somethin’ pretty,” she bumped you with her elbow, “I know you wanna.”

You bit your lip as a smile crept on your face, glancing down at your hands and back to her while slowly backing away.

“Give me five minutes.”

It was a lie.

Five turned more into twenty with trying on several different dresses before finding the one.

Initially, you tried on the first dress you saw in the window of the shop, a gorgeous navy dress with an integrated corset between the flared skirt and puffy sleeves. However, the bustle was more than you bargained for, and you certainly didn’t fancy the look of having a shelf on your backside. The mirror in the fitting room let you know that the ‘regal’ look was something you weren’t interested in.

The second was a significant improvement from the first. It leaned toward a more gothic style, featuring a mix of black and red satin, as if the red were a robe draped over the black gown, yet both were stitched together seamlessly. Strings criss-crossed over the bust and torso, giving it a unique backward corset appearance, and the sleeves were long and chinched near the elbows. It even came with a hood adorned with black lace trim– a distinctive feature compared to most gowns you had seen. You loved how it looked and felt, but there was a persistent voice in your head that told you it looked too cultish, especially with the hood. In the end, your conscience had guided you out of the fitting room and onto the next.

Picking through the collections had consumed more time than you had anticipated, and your impatience grew as you felt your precious night slipping away.

Nothing was catching your eye and you just wanted something.

You looked out the window to all the bodies strolling through the streets– laughing, smiling, talking– while you were wasting time away finding a silly dress to wear.

The sound of the bell above the door ringing brought you back as a couple customers entered the store, a trio of young women in animated conversation about accessories and making a bee-line for the displays. But as you eyed them, your gaze shifted to just the right of them, falling on exactly what you were looking for.

There it was– a long, crimson floor-length skirt cinched at the seam under the bust, paired with a striking black blouse. But this wasn’t just any black blouse. No, it had balloon sleeves with exaggerated cuffs adorned with buttons that matched the body, and a stunning combination of lace and mesh on the collar that extended gracefully from shoulder to shoulder.

Not wasting another second, you swiped it and practically flew in and out of the changing room, taking a look in the mirror afterwards and absolutely falling in love with how it looked on you. It was comfortable and conventional with a dash of sexy– a match made in heaven! You slid a wad of cash across the counter to the gentleman in exchange for a paper bag for your other clothes and were quickly out the door.

Clutching the bag, you navigated the labyrinthine alleyways and main roads of Saint Denis in search of your girls, thinking just when you found them, it was just another bunch that looked similar from afar. Head on a swivel, you did your best to avoid getting distracted by the lively celebrations around you, despite your strong desire to join in.

So set on your mission, you didn’t even think to look both ways before nearly stepping in front of an oncoming trolley– being saved by a large hards on your arm and waist.

“Oh!–” You palm flew over your chest as you gasped, “I– Thank you! I didn’t even see where I was going!”

“Quite some timing there,” the figure chuckled, “we just got here.”

We?

Looking up, you were met with Charles looking down at you with a kind smile, putting you at ease. In the not-so-far distance, you saw Dutch, Jack, and Kieran hitching their horses and making their way over to you.

“I see you girls have been busy!” Dutch declared as he grandly gestured to your new clothes. “Having fun I hope?”

You nodded politely. Fun and causing trouble, but who were you to spill about that?

A satisfied grin crossed his face, “We’re off to meet the others at Mayor Lemieux. Care to join us, Miss?”

Reuniting with the rest of the gang? Say less.

Before you could answer, you remembered the bag in your hand and looked down at it, your thoughts not lost on the men around you. Not that your old clothes were worth much in a town like Saint Denis, but they were still yours.

“You three go on, we’ll meet you there.” Charles insisted to Dutch, then turned to you as they walked away. “You can leave your stuff with me, it’ll be safe.”

You smiled as he just knew what to do, the protective side of the men you always appreciated. A short walk over to the stables, where he insisted on keeping his horse rather than in the open, and stowing your things later, you were back on track to the mansion district– after some jokes about all the wealth you’d been carrying, of course, and keeping a couple pieces on you for when you saw your market friend.

You marveled at the increasing crowd in the town– kids’ laughter echoed through the streets that mingled with the roars and singing reverberating from every saloon, and occasionally, there were startled shrieks of terror caused by juveniles of the night. You made comments about the atmosphere and were very careful to stay out of the way of the ongoing trolleys, a small inside joke brewing between you both.

In Charles, you felt a strong sense of safety and trust. He was one of the few men you believed to be genuinely good, his only flaw being part of a criminal gang, but even that could be justified with loyalty. He was kind and respectful, not just towards women, but towards everyone. He was someone to have on your side, always.

“So, is everyone really out here?” You inquired, “I didn’t think that Dutch could really rally everyone up to come into town.”

“For the most part,” Charles shrugged, “a couple of them wanted to stay and watch camp. Said they weren’t too big on celebrating.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who decided to hang back?”

Charles chuckled and glanced at you, teasing, “What’s got you so curious? Expecting somebody?"

Your cheeks burned at his question. You hadn’t been thinking of him until this very moment.

“Maybe I was praying for a miracle that Micah didn’t come.”

He laughed louder this time, “Well, it was answered.”

You cracked a smile at your banter, but now your mind was totally elsewhere and remained that way well into the district, the buzzing of your thoughts stopping at the front entrance of Mayor Lemieux’s estate.

Before you was a huge mansion, white with pillars supporting the sprawling balcony that extended to each side of the house and a wide staircase that led up to an opulent wrap-around porch. From the outside alone, you could tell that every inch of this property was occupied between the amount of people and staff.

Charles led the way into the estate, making sure you didn’t lose him along the way as you looked about. You thought the exterior was grand enough already, but the interior proved to be much more. The flooring in each room varied, from carpet, to tile, to wood– all extravagant. As soon as you stepped inside, a staircase greeted you and split off into two more on each side for the second level, all lined with a rich red and gold carpet. The walls were lined with exquisite light fixtures and portraits of people you couldn’t even begin to name, and an enormous chandelier hung over the center of the entrance, adding to the luxurious ambiance.

Making your way to the back, you grabbed a drink and some hors d’oeuvres off a tray from a nearby server, nursing the drink and nibbling on the food a little bit at a time. As if you thought the place couldn’t be anymore rich, the gazebo and water fountain in the backyard told you otherwise. It was also now that you noticed that the estate had been on the water which reinforced its extravagance. Every single detail had been thought out to make this place the go-to spot for the people of Saint Denis between the assortment of food and beverages, games, decorations– everything.

Your favorite part, though? Finding your people again.

The girls cheered as you locked eyes at the same time, flocking to you and immediately forcing you to spin to show off your attire for the evening. Charles rejoined Dutch, Jack, and Kieran again as they watched you five with amused expressions.

“Next time, we’re comin’ with,” Sadie raised her glass to yours, “five minutes my ass.”

You sheepishly smiled at her and clinked your glass against hers while looking around, “Where’s everyone else? Charles said-”

“There she is!”

Your voice froze as you heard the familiar sound of a particular woman, turning around to meet them.

“Was wonderin’ when you’d show up.”

Your face dropped.

“Miss Grimshaw?”

She took complete pleasure in your utter surprise, sporting a smirk as she sipped from a glass of dark liquid. You approached her, gesturing to say something, but words eluded you, earning a chuckle from her. She savored her drink and waited patiently, her smug expression unyielding until you finally found your voice.

“I didn’t think you wanted to-”

“Celebrate the Day of the Dead? I don’t.” You raised your eyebrows at her bluntness. She took a few steps towards you, “But it beats bein’ in that camp for once. And free drinks ain’t so bad either”

There’s the Susan Grimshaw you knew.

You were quiet as she surveyed your attire, ruffling your sleeve from awkward creases and smoothing it afterwards. Her gaze drew up to your face, looking everywhere but your eyes, making sure all your hairs were in place and that you didn’t just walk straight out of a barn. She placed her fingers under your chin and tilted up to her.

“Don’t be dumb. Don’t be stupid. And don’t go diggin’ up graves. Ya’ hear me?”

You smirked. “No promises.”

She rolled her eyes as her hand dropped, smacking you on the shoulder. “Lord, y’all are the reason I have all these grays.”

She winked at you as she moved on from your conversation, and when you turned back to your friends, they had vanished.

Again.

You let out a suppressed laugh at the circumstances. Of course– if you weren’t glued to their hip, you were bound to lose them. And with as many people there were, finding them again wouldn’t be easy. So, you chose not to.

Swiping another drink from a passing server, you wandered about the property and drank while you observed the various scenes that played out. Suited men overindulging in beers and politics, staff lingering in the corner and gossiping in hushed tones, and young women trying to appear more desirable by loosening buttons or letting a sleeve slip off their shoulders.

The further into the night, the more increasingly bold and uninhibited people became, embracing the wicked and mischievous aspects of the holiday. You noticed it more as you went about the district, slipping in and out without attracting much attention– a level of anonymity you found strangely enjoyable.

The only interruptions were the occasional sightings of familiar faces when you were least expecting them– like Lenny and Kieran on the corner of a saloon, or Karen and Sean talking it up on the staircase of another mansion. Despite their lack of acknowledgement, you still grinned towards them and continued your exploration.

As you came across one of the last estates, you’d barely stepped foot on the property before hearing your name shouted out, causing you to jump.

“Over here, Miss!”

Realizing it to be Dutch beckoning you over, you relaxed and crossed the yard to join at his side, accompanied by a few unfamiliar men. You graciously made their acquaintance and accepted a drink offered by Dutch.

“Gentlemen, this here is one of Van Der Linde’s finest.” He bowed to you, eliciting a shy chuckle out of you, “Truly, she’s one of a kind.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” the man to your left winked in your direction. He extended his hand to you, “It’s a shame we haven’t met earlier.”

He was conventionally attractive; kept hair, clean shaven, chiseled features, well dressed. His accent you couldn’t particularly place but found it interesting nonetheless– carrying a definitive air of sophistication.

Taking his hand, he brought it up to his face and kissed the top of it– an act that normally would be acceptable, but you got an icky feeling from him. You bowed your head only to be polite, finding words unnecessary.

“What do you say, dear, let me take you for a drink and have the privilege of getting to know all about Van Der Linde’s finest?”

The bold request had you raising your eyebrows and an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You flushed with embarrassment, was this really happening right now, especially in front of Dutch? It felt so wrong. You didn’t realize how long you’d been silent until another voice interjected.

“She ain’t interested.”

Your eyes widened and back straightened at the deep drawl.

Arthur.

His imposing presence settled beside you, taking the opportunity to steal a glance at him while he was focused on the gentleman before you. It turned into a double-take once you realized what he was wearing.

His hands held his trusty gun belt over a pair of dark pants– jeans, maybe, but it was hard to discern in the dim light. He swapped his typical suspenders for a ragged dark brown leather belt, a unique change yet fitting one. And his shirt– God, his shirt– a white and red gingham button-up that he filled out perfectly with cuffed sleeves. Now that was different, and probably not his preferred style deep down, but you loved it. Even his hat was different, trading his father’s for a much fancier one with a wide front dip and roll, as well as the band featuring brass rifle bullets.

You couldn’t help but gawk. He looked so damn good, and also the only one out of the gang that actually dressed up for the occasion.

“Last I checked, I was speaking to the lady.” The gentleman puffed his chest a bit, elegantly gesturing to you.

Arthur chuckled lowly, his demeanor remaining cool, “Yeah, well, last I checked the lady wasn’t talkin’ back.”

The gentleman, clearly insulted, narrowed his eyes on Arthur as his fingers pinched the stem of his wine glass– the difference between their behaviors clear as day. During their small exchange, you kept your eyes on your hands that held a drink, though you weren’t interested in it much at the moment.

“It’s clear you’ve made her uncomfortable with your poor manners,” the irony of his words made the faintest smile curl on your lips.

Arthur laughed louder, turning to you and draping a hand behind your back while the other settled on his belt still, “Miss, have I made you uncomfortable with my poor manners?”

You met his gaze with a knowing look, biting your lip to fend off the smile that was deepening at him fucking with the man. You knew the answer, and so did Arthur, and you got a kick out of his way of making him look like a fool.

“What poor manners?” You raised your drink to your lips to further conceal your amusement while maintaining eye contact with Arthur, a smirk appearing on his face.

“See? She just ain’t wanna talk to you.” Arthur’s hand pressed against your back, directing you to move, while he tipped his head and gestured a farewell, “Now, you gentlemen have a fine night.”

As you walked further away you could hear bits and pieces of Dutch attempting to soothe the situation, which, to you, sounded like a lot of ass-kissing to salvage whatever relations he had built with those men before suffering a blow from Arthur.

Speaking of him– your skin was warm where his hand touched and guided you, steady as he maneuvered you both through the crowds. It was reminiscent of the feeling you’d had with Charles earlier, but with Arthur, it was different– more intense. Even from behind, you could sense his frame towering over you, feeling a warmth in your cheeks just at the thought of his broadness alone. He mumbled a series of ‘excuse us’ and ‘watch out’ as you moved along into the backyard, the scene nearly the same compared to Mayor Lemieux’s, of course the obvious difference was the actual yard itself.

It was only when you were nearly at the back that his hand dropped from you as he rested against a pillar, his eyes carefully scanning through the sea of people before returning to you.

“M’sorry about that,” his sincerity was evident. “Dutch’s been with ‘em all night, and I ain’t got a very good feeling about it.”

You appreciated his apology though it wasn’t really necessary. His intent was clear, and you admired him for it.

“Well, I’d say you’re my knight in shining armor, but it’s looking more like..” Your eyes danced around his attire again with a hint of a smile.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he shook his head and put his bottle to his lips, giving you a fine sight to see. “S’your fault I’m wearin this get-up, by the way.”

He pointed at you while leaning back, shifting his weight to one foot with the other crossed in front of it. His arms crossed against his chest in a way made his arms look ridiculously big, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this man didn’t have women lining up for him around the block.

“Oh, you say it like it’s a bad thing,” you retorted, taking a sip from your glass before gesturing to yourself. “And you’re not the only one, see?”

With a graceful twirl, you spun around, allowing your skirt to flare for a flashy effect. Arthur couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you.

“Are you supposed to be somethin’, or?” There was a genuine curiosity in his tone that had you raising your brows, which caused him to stutter. “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong! It looks, you look–”

A laugh from you calmed his nerves, “I’m not, I just wanted to be festive, is all.”

He nodded and shifted his weight to the other foot, casting his gaze towards the crowd again. An awkward silence filled the space for a moment.

“What about you? What’s your get-up?” You grinned as he rolled his eyes at his word choice for costume. “And don’t say a cowboy.”

He fell quiet.

“An outlaw?”

Your laughter mingled in the air with Arthur’s, seeing a dash of red spread across his cheeks. It was exactly the kind of answer you had expected.

As it died down, his attention returned to the yard, and you couldn’t help but look at him. With his rugged looks, quick wit, and heart of gold, it was hard not to feel something for him. And for how much you were having a good time in the short duration you were with him, you couldn’t believe he ever protested coming out here.

Your heart fluttered for him. He could’ve been anywhere else right now, either at camp or drinking and getting into trouble, but yet he stayed with you, and it didn’t look like he was leaving your side anytime soon.

“Arthur–”

“We gotta move–”

The sudden urgency in his voice caught you off-guard. He stood from the pillar and a protective hand was on your back again, preparing to lead you away once more. Both of your gazes were fixed on several unfriendly-looking staff members who were combing through people with lanterns– grabbing them by the shoulder, holding the light to their face, then carelessly throwing them aside when they weren’t the face they were looking for.

Just your luck.

Quickly, Arthur guided you down the steps and to the right to what you assumed was a storage house. You kept an eye out while he found a way in, though your panic rose as they kept sweeping the yard and moving closer.

“Arthur, any day now would be gr–”

He pulled your arm into darkness and swung the door shut, immediately blocking it with an object that was too dark for you to see. The space was much smaller than you imagined and quite stuffy, the music and conversation muffled to your ears now.

Your heart hammered in your chest, surely this wasn’t because of a bruise to the ego? But then again, these rich folk seemed sensitive. You joined Arthur at the small window, just peeking around the curtain to watch the unwelcomed company grow closer, “Some staff this place has.”

“This place belongs to Angelo Bronté. And that ain’t staff.”

You scoffed, “Who?”

“Somebody we ain't need to piss off.”

You faced him, “And let me guess, you pissed him off somehow?”

As he turned to you, you became acutely aware of the lack of distance between you both. Just the slight inch forward and–

No– now was not the time to lust over him, even if your body was giving you all the telltale signs, especially the fire that burned in your core. But it didn’t help when he smirked at you for an answer, the dim illumination of half his face making him look criminally more attractive. You groaned at the overall situation– grappling with your desires and figuring how it wouldn’t be a true Van Der Linde outing if someone didn’t cause trouble.

Your fingers curled around the curtain as you watched them gather near where you’d been standing no more than ten minutes ago. Glancing back, you noticed another window that would lead just over the wall– your escape.

“Hey, there’s a–”

“Where'd you get that?”

You knitted your brows in confusion at him, letting a beat pass before seeing where his eyes had been glued to– your hand on the curtain.

The ring.

The dim light from outside still made it twinkle in the darkness of the room, catching his attention. You glanced at it before redirecting your gaze to the henchmen that had now come down the stairs and searched the opposite side of the patio behind some barrels. It was only a matter of time before they came looking where you were.

“Someone gave it to me, but listen–”

“Who gave it to you? His voice was insistent as he stared at you intently.

You stared back dumbfounded. Between wanting to have him right in this storage house and your pursuers less than twenty yards away, you couldn’t comprehend he was pestering you about this right now.

Letting out a huff, you blindly reached around for anything to give you a boost, finding your footing and hoisting upwards to reach the higher window. With one arm supporting yourself, the other made work with the pane, pushing it up little by little. It proved to be more difficult than you expected from its old age and scarce use. Your heart raced when you heard the twisting of the door knob and voices from the outside congregating around it.

Shit.

With a final push, you opened it all the way, whispering urgently, “C’mon!”

Arthur followed swiftly after you, his plunge to the ground a bit more graceful than yours, but certain he wasn’t looking anyway. Just as hit feet hit the ground, you heard the door bust open from inside, followed by several heavy footsteps and angry voices.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to the right to run down the street, bumping into townsfolk along the way and hearing their unpleasant words go in one ear and out the other. But they weren’t the only ones disgruntled– so were more henchmen that were right after you. How many people did this guy have?

Your muttered profanity let Arthur know that trouble was on your tail, tightening his grip on your hand and looking for any way out.

An intersection was coming up as you ran further into Saint Denis, which meant more people, more places to hide, and more–

“Trolley!”

You pointed at it as it was approaching too quickly for your liking, hoping Arthur would see and redirect your route. But instead, he tugged for you to run faster.

“We’re not gonna–”

“Just trust me!”

Your eyes darted from the street ahead to the trolley, panic at an all time high as you were essentially running to your certain death.

You squinted as the bright lights blinded you, your legs pumping as fast as they could, and your shriek swallowed by the horn of the machine– you accepted your fate as an oversized bug smeared across its windshield.

You felt your body jerked to the side and slam against concrete. You were disoriented, your senses in chaos. This was it. The afterlife already– dark, cold, and full of..

Ragged breathing?

“Goddamn...” Arthur’s voice reached your ears.

You shot your eyes open at Arthur’s rasp, your heart painfully thumping in your chest and lungs aching with every breath. You heaved and peered around the corner to see Bronté’s men grouped in the street looking for a sign of either of you, but their efforts yielded nothing. WIth an angered look of defeat, they turned back towards the estate, and you let out a deep sigh of relief.

When you turned back, Arthur stood close to you, his gaze drawn to the men then falling to you after.

“You,” you poked at his chest, “are absolutely insane. Never make me do that again!”

“Remember,” his hand reached up for yours, “I’m an outlaw, not a liar.”

You shared a soft laugh, captivated by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and the soothing timbre of his voice. Your gaze shifted down to your conjoined hands, appreciating the gentle way he held yours despite his larger and rougher ones. His skin was warm against yours, and although you expected fireworks, it was more like a softness, surrendering to its familiarity despite never having experienced it before.

Lightly, his thumb grazed your palm and stopped at the band around your finger, gently turning your hand over so that the design was visible. He examined it closely, tracing the delicate details with his thumb.

“A woman in the market here gave it to me... Told her I couldn’t afford it, but she wanted me to keep it– insisted on it.”

He continued to look at it, taking in all the tiny details as best as he could in the dark alley. A faint smile appeared on his lips as his thumb ran over it, “Sounds like it was meant to be.”

His choice of words resonated with you, reaffirming the same feeling you’d had when you first tried it on.

A chuckle and grin from you caused him to tilt his head with a playful expression, slightly leaning closer to you, “What?”

You glanced at the ring and back to him, briefly holding your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. Your gaze flickered from his eyes, down to his lips, and back up again.

“You believe in fate, Arthur Morgan?”

His smile faded and eyes slightly widened, but your soft gaze remained steady on him. Your hands left his and traveled to his shoulders, carefully smoothing out any wrinkles. His breathing quickened, especially after the sudden touch. He stared deep into your eyes, searching for any sign that would tell him it was all in his head, but it wasn’t. You knew what you were asking.

He lowered his head for a moment, his expression softening under your touch and drawing closer to you. When he met your eyes again, a fleeting look of sadness crossed his face as his hands found themselves under your elbows.

Being involved with someone like him came with hardships for both sides– a lifestyle that one had to keep and the other suffered because of it. It wasn’t fair, eternally caught in moral dilemmas and forever denied the chance to settle down. There wasn’t the luxury to cherry-pick from life’s offerings, to have it all. This was his life, and he carried the weight of it heavily.

“I don’t believe in a lot of things,”

But you didn’t care. You had embraced a life similar to his, akin to that of the Van Der Linde gang. If you hadn’t, would you all have winded up together anyway?

You understood the unconventional life you all led, far from the standard, civilized existence that others pursued. But it worked for you, and you had each other to rely on, and that’s what truly mattered. You saw beyond the surface, beyond the cold outlaw label that clung to him, a man with flaws and virtues. Maybe he lost his temper too quickly at times or wielded a sharp tongue, but beneath it all, there was love, kindness, and a sense of honor that ran deep within him.

The world may have painted him as the Devil incarnate, but you knew him differently. He was a good man, capable of both selfless kindness and quiet introspection. In your heart, you held this belief, and nothing could change that.

Life had conspired to bring you together. And in that union, there was fate.

“But I have my exceptions.”

He pressed his lips gently against yours, his arms snaking behind and around as yours curled over his shoulders.

It was slow and sweet just like how you imagined he would be– taking his time to know your body and touch. His hands spread along your back and held you protectively, your bodies melting into one another. The breaks between were short, too focused on the fact this was happening to pay attention to anything else but each other. Your hand moved to his cheek and ran your thumb along his beard, earning a hum of pleasure from the small act and had you smiling against his lips.

When you finally broke, you rested foreheads together, pushing up his hat slightly in the process. Even in a dark alley, you could still make out his bright blue eyes and a deep shade of red gracing his skin. You couldn’t even begin to conceal your toothy grin, nor could he.

“I have my exceptions, too.”

His hand reached up and curled around yours, “Hope I’m the only one, then.”

You pecked his lips before stepping back and lacing your fingers with his, gently tugging to walk, “I’ll think about it.”

He rolled his eyes at your wink but still grinned, happily following you around wherever you dragged him to. Slipping between alleys, you merged yourselves with the lively nightlife again– the same sights you saw during the day looked even better now.

As you strolled through the town hand-in-hand, a sense of domesticity settled upon you. Tonight, you weren’t part of a highly wanted gang, you were just another pair in the streets of Saint Denis– clinging to his arm, catching snippets of entertainment through saloon doors, and getting the other’s attention when something of interest was spotted.

One of the things you enjoyed most was Arthur’s reactions to when kids jumped out to scare you both, a prank played on anyone who dared to walk the particular stretch of the street. The younger the prankster, the more dramatic Arthur’s responses became. He would place a hand over his heart and tightly cling to you with feigned disbelief, saying things like “Haven’t been scared like that in years!” or, “Never even saw ‘em comin!” before saying some words of encouragement that fueled the next scare.

Teenage boys who attempted the same stunt received a more wary reception from Arthur, recognizing their motives often stemmed from a desire to appear cool in front of friends or impress girls, and that their pranks were much more juvenile. In most cases, his glare and sheer size alone were enough to send them fleeing, but those who dared to persist were subjected to his quick tongue and left them retreating like chastened dogs with their tails between their legs. Your laughter always followed the encounter, adding to the lingering sting of Arthur’s verbal reprimand.

Eventually, your route had led you near the markets again, and you eagerly pulled Arthur along to find your favorite stand. He chuckled and followed your lead as you navigated through the crowd, your excitement palpable.

“Oh please tell me you stole him!” Came a familiar voice around the corner.

You smiled at the sight of her and approached, seeing that her table had been decently cleared, a sign of a good night for profits.

Arthur politely tipped his head towards her with a shy smile, “Afraid it’s the other way around, ma’am.”

You felt a warmth on your cheeks at his answer and gently squeezed his hand before letting it go to dig out your promises tucked expertly within your clothing. “But I do come bearing gifts!”

Her playful frown turned up into genuine surprise at your reveal of assorted jewelry and trinkets– indeed impressed with your take as it was more than she anticipated. Carefully, she examined each one before placing them with her own wares for sale, whispering a praise about the item while doing so. As she spoke, her eyes flitted about her table, her gestures revealing a hint of embarrassment.

“I apologize that I don’t have more to offer, dear,” her eyebrows furrowed apologetically, “but please, do take whatever you like.”

You glanced over the table, hesitating as you hovered a hand over an item before retracting it, shaking your head slowly. The woman and Arthur exchanged puzzled glances, the woman’s expression now tinged with concern.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight, I’ll be here–”

“It’s quite alright,” you replied sweetly, though the confusion was still apparent in her expression. “I just wanted to repay you.”

She layered her hands over her chest in gratitude, and you felt the act of pure kindness from one human to another to be worth more than any dollar bill or piece of gold.

You also knew that besides the girls, each member that was out had surely pickpocketed or gambled their way into getting a cut for themselves and camp.

Her eyes peered over to Arthur for a moment, his posture straightening when she pointed a motherly finger at him. “Don’t let this one go, you hear?”

You giggled at her demand, and another wave of red kissing his cheeks only added to your amusement as he tipped his head at her once again.

Slowly, you exchanged goodbyes as Arthur placed a hand on your lower back and subtly scooched you along– only for it to be an excuse to slip a wad of cash towards the woman without you noticing. Her hands were quick to replace the cash in his hands for something small and delicate into his, darting her eyes between your turned figure and him before shooting a wink. Without looking, Arthur knew exactly what she gave him, and placed it right in his pocket before giving you his full attention as you continued through the strip.

A warm smile graced your lips as Arthur’s arm wrapped around your waist and he planted a gentle kiss on your head, feeling a tiny swarm of butterflies in your chest. His attention made you feel important with the way he had to touch you, like he needed everyone to see you on his arm, proud to have you by his side.

As the night wore on, you couldn’t suppress the heaviness of your eyelids. You tried to hide your yawns that wouldn’t stop coming after the initial one, but Arthur noticed after the second one. After exploring nearly all the sights of Saint Denis, with the exception of the mansion district, of which you had wisely avoided for the rest of the evening, he convinced you to rest at a hotel for the night. You protested at first, but another yawn and knowing look from him persuaded you to give in.

He’d slipped the clerk a little more than the average room cost, wanting you to have the best possible after such a physically taxing day. The clerk, more than willing to oblige, had graciously handed over the keys.

While the lofty bed and opulent room details were certainly appealing, you immediately took to the private balcony that gave the perfect view over the town, allowing you to continue enjoying the night from the comfort of your room. Your skirt fluttered in the breeze, mirroring the movement of the curtains as you leaned against the iron railing. A soft, ambient glow illuminated your figure, creating a picturesque scene that Arthur couldn’t help but admire– a sight he would undoubtedly sketch later.

He joined at your side, his presence reassuring as he brushed against your shoulder. You continued to gaze down at the bustling town below, the sounds of murmured conversation and laughter from the open buildings– mostly taverns and saloons– filling the night air. You rested your head against Arthur’s shoulder, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

“I know I acted like I didn’t wanna come out here tonight,” he mentioned as he looked down at you, meeting your gaze that reaffirmed his statement that pulled a smile from him. “But I’m glad I did.”

Adjusting to face him properly, he snaked his arm around you as he did the same, drawing you closer to him with a soft, affectionate look. You brushed noses as you settled in his space, your lips mere centimeters from his.

“I’m glad you did too.”

Your lips locked in a passionate embrace, and the cheers and woos from below had reached your ears, causing both of you to break into smiles at the unexpected audience. But he paid no heed to the commotion as he pulled you in for more, his hands finding your face to deepen your connection.

In a brief moment of separation, you took the opportunity to give him a suggestive smirk and nod to the room that told him everything he needed to know– quickly peppering kisses along your jaw and neck before swiftly sweeping you off your feet and right into bed.

If tonight proved one thing, it was that you needed to get out of camp more often.

Especially with Arthur.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fic #rdr2 #halloween fic

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white-poppie · 2 years

Text

ST✩RBOY: random hxh hcs

Now playing- STARBOY by The weekend ft. Killua, Kurapika, Chrollo, Illumi Tw: dissociation

💿 Kurapika

The most perfect man there is to exist!!?!!

So I know Kurapika had to almost grow up by himself, so I think he can handle household chores very well.

I would like to think that he somehow discovers baking. I just know he would be good at it <3

I just know he has super pretty cursive handwriting -sighs dreamily-

If you hug him, I know he would be so hesitant, but would slowly nuzzle deeper. If you were close to him and finally hug him, he would literally try his best to hold back tears (Please tell him, it's okay to cry!)

He smells so good omfg. I can't decide between Vanilla or some earthy smell, either way, it's so comforting yet at the same time it's like *eyes roll to the back of head*

You can read this for more scent hcs: Serenade my Senses

Call him pretty boy and he would be so shocked the first time, but as he gets used to it, he gives coy smile <33

I like the think it takes him a long time to get comfortable, but when he does it's so soft that it feels like breathing air. He is so touch-starved tho, so I can imagine him getting clingy after a while. (same bro same)

He is the knuckle and neck kisses type of dude *cue the flusters*

He hates Andrew Tate and his fans like he would go spit on them if could, this guy has the most healthy masculinity in all of anime and I love him for that.

Doesn't really understand the concept of memes tbh, he needs some explaining but he will laugh a little when you send them, he will once in a blue moon send memes but only the cat ones.

(realises how much I wrote for him while about to write more. This man has me on a chokehold frfr)

💿 Killua

He has trans-supporting t-shirts for him and Alluka. They are all matching.

Takes Alluka to pride parades! He has them sat on his shoulder the entire time too!!

Cant comfort a person even if his life depends on it. If you are crying he is just there like 🧍, awkwardly offering you some chocolate robots tho.

He just can't sit without moving every second! Literally a cat 😒

Older! Killua around 16-17 is a massive flirt! He is so quick to pull out reactions from anyone and takes a sick pleasure in it too??

Calls himself 'The Rizz lord' unironically.

His top Spotify artists would be Chase Atlantic, Mother-mother, The Scotts, Nirvana, Mitski and the Arctic Monkeys. Basically really an alt-rock/indie thing going on (us bro.)

💿 Chrollo

Mansplain, Manslaughter, Manwhore, Manipulate, Malewife ™️

Reads macabre literature like Crime and Punishment, No longer human, if we were villains, the secret history etc.

Tbh I feel like unlike how the fandom portrays him, he is a rather normal dude.

Gothic Academia ultra pro max.

Did the Soldier/Poet/King test, wanted 'king' but got 'poet'

Doesn't have pets because he thinks he can not take care of them

He loves animals tho, idk he seems the birds type of guy.

He likes the 'ominous' kind of birds more; like Ravens, Crows, Vultures and eagles.

Listens to Lana Del Ray and Maneskin, no questions asked.

Is scared of diving into conspiracy theories because he knows he would get sucked into the black hole because he is very interested in morbid things.

He is a DC fan, especially Gothan chronicles. (is that what it's called? Yk the things related to Gotham: joker, poison ivy, harlequin etc.)

Tried journalling once, failed terribly, and stopped after a week.

💿 Illumi

Oh wow, he is a difficult one to write about, but you guys love him, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I hate to say this, but I think he frequently dissociates, usually for very short periods of time, he doesn't even know it tbh, just thinks he is out of the element.

He is subconsciously under a lot of stress so his mind tries to flee from it by dissociating.

I wrote a little more about this here: Stuck in a vicious cycle

I think he likes potted plants, especially succulents. He is patient so I can see him take care of even the very difficult ones.

If he is going on a mission, he would go to his mother (because he cannot trust his siblings and father in this matter) like 'take care of my child.'

She actually manages to keep it alive somehow??

I think he knows how to do origami (he saw a child making a paper crane once and got curious.)

Illumi genuinely doesn't know how to care for his hair, he just follows whatever his mom tells him to do, so thank Kikuyo for those luscious tresses.

He has a hyper-fixation on mushrooms (not the psychedelic kind you weirdo). He knows the names of a lot of mushrooms.

Just imagine him and Hisoka taking walk and he randomly spots a mushroom and mumbles to himself 'Coprinus comatus'

and Hisoka is like:

(yes it's a bad meme, but it's the effort that counts)

🏷 Tags: @denkis111, @jazzylove, @lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp,@rintaroubby @nanaseishiro @innerpurple, @cleaningfairylevi, @webawee

⤷‧₊˚ Hunter x Hunter (ハンタ x ハンタ)

🥀 BYI/DNI ♡⌇ Request Rules 𓏸 🗝️ ₊﹒《 Join my Taglist •

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onequeerhuman · 2 months

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Ah, the opportunities (and the tension) pt.3-the end… for now

(for music, i listened to liquid smooth by mitski while writing this :)

larissa weems x oc!reader, fluff with tension

light descriptions of body (mention of feminine clothes, descriptions of fae form matching those of a dryad, etc.)

chapter specific warnings: talk of mates, talk of different cultures and less-than-good morals (faeries are morally grey creatures), light power imbalance, beginnings of smut/ implied future smut. —lmk if i missed something!

“so…..is there any other questions i can answer?” You ask larissa, lightly bemused at her childlike staring.

Weems snaps out of her daze, her cheeks flushing slightly at being caught staring in childlike wonder. She shakes her head softly, her eyes roaming over you once more before she speaks.

"I... have so many questions," she admits quietly. Taking a deep breath, she collects her thoughts, trying to sort through the multitude of inquiries in her mind.

"How... how old are you, if I may ask?"

tilting your head you ask back “it was in my resume which i’m sure you read before hiring me— oh. or do you mean my actual age in human years?

Weems nods slowly, taking a moment to recall your resume. It had been quite a while since she had even looked at it, but she still tries to recall the details.

"I suppose I was asking for your 'true' age... if that makes any sense," she says softly, her eyes still roving over your form, taking in every detail.

You snort, bemused, before answering “well, as my race is immortal, please don’t be too shocked, but i’m 834 human years- which is basically… 35? i guess? so that’s what i put on my resume…. but dont worry dear, i’m actually quite a bit older than YOU.” smirking at her, happy

Weems's eyes widen at your answer, her heart skipping a beat at the revelation.

"834 years old..." she whispers faintly, her mind trying to process the concept of such a long lifespan. And when you smirk at her, saying you're quite a bit older, her face flushes slightly, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement.

"Is... that so?" she asks quietly, a hint of curiosity in her voice, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“hmmmn…” you say as you walk towards her “actually, a small known fact about us, is that once we find our mates, if they’re of a different race, they stop aging entirely… until we die, of course- and then the aging process returns…..” You tell her, a tad bit sad looking off, reminiscent on some of the mated pairs you once knew.

Weems's heart flutters as you walk towards her, her eyes following your movements. Her breath hitches in her throat as you explain the small fact about your race, her mind trying to wrap around the concept of eternal youth.

"Your... mates…" she whispers, absorbing every word. But as your gaze turns sad, her heart constricts in her chest, and she can't help but ask, “Have you... lost a mate before?"

You smile at her “oh, no- i’ve not found mine yet… but i know those who have. it’s never fun, especially once you’re forced to witness the rapid decline in the health of someone you once knew as happy and alive…”

Weems's heart swells as you smile, though it saddens a bit at the mention of your lack of a mate. She nods slowly when you speak of those you know who lost their mates, a pang of empathy running through her.

"It… sounds like a bittersweet curse," she says softly, her voice filled with a mix of sadness and understanding. She watches you for a moment, her eyes tracing over your features, before speaking again.

"And do you... have an idea of who your mate might potentially be?"

Shrugging, you answer her question “not… exactly. but, there’s this thing- called the tether. it’s said that once we reach the age of maturity, we’ll have an inexplicable urge to travel somewhere, it may be close, it may be far… but supposedly we’ll feel a sense of contentment once we reach that place… and then we’ll know for certain that our mate is nearby, somewhere close. the task of figuring out who, exactly, your mate is, though, is unfortunately up to the fae themselves”

Weems listens intently as you explain the concept of the 'tether' to her, her brow furried as she takes in the information. She can't help but find a small sense of romance in the idea of a drawn-out search for a destined mate, and a soft smile forms on her face as she imagines the journey to reach that point.

"So it's a sort of... intuition, then?" she asks, tilting her head slightly. “A tugging at your soul, perhaps?"

Nodding, you tell her the truth “yes- it’s as if you become super excited to travel somewhere— where you do not know, so you just follow your soul. and once you reach it, the excitement melts into contentment and longing, until you find your mate. i’m actually from the coast of ireland, but i’ve made my way here, to Jericho… though i still have not found my mate and it’s been over a year since my arrival. really not that long but it’s still aggravating. my emotions get stronger by the day.

Weems listens intently, captivated by the mystery and romance of the concept. She leans forward slightly as you explain that your emotions get stronger by the day, a hint of curiosity sparkling in her eyes. She purses her lips gently as a thought crosses her mind.

She takes a moment, contemplating whether or not to voice her curiosity, before she finally speaks up, her voice soft and measured.

"And... when you say 'stronger'... exactly how so?"

You cough as heat rises in your face “well, for one, the push to find my love grows, my anger at not having found her grows as well as my urgency *to* find her and..uhhmn… how do i put this while remaining appropriate….” trailing off, the heat climbs up your neck and covering your cheeks

Weems takes note of the way your blush grows as you speak, and her own cheeks tinge with a soft pink hue. Her heart thumps in her chest as her mind races to fill in the blank you left.

She gazes at you intently, her curiosity piqued as she waits silently for you to elaborate, the implications of your words echoing in her mind.

“…lets just say, i can’t- uhmn… *you know*, without her.” your blush attacking your face furiously now as you turn away, unable to make eyecontact as your rub at your neck awkwardly.

Weems's face also blushes furiously at your insinuation, her heart rate increasing with the admission. Her mind conjures the very intimate image the implication creates, and suddenly she knows exactly the effect your emotions have had on you. Her own heart races in her chest, and she can't help but admire how absolutely adorable the bashful yet nervous fae before her appears, looking away to avoid eye contact.

She can't help but want to reassure you, to comfort you, and before she can think her next words through, she speaks them.

"I... I understand."

“thanks, yeah… little bit not fun. for me, anyways… i’m sure all the people i’ve slept with had fun” You may roll your eyes, but internally strangely content to finally having the confidence to tell larissa, you look back towards her.

Weems can’t help the small chuckle that escapes her when you roll her eyes and make the comment, her heart thudding a bit faster at the sight of your returned gaze. She bites down on her bottom lip softly for a moment, before speaking again, a hint of curiosity in her tone.

"This... may be a slightly too personal question, but... how many, exactly? If you don’t mind my asking…"

“well, how many i’ve fucked total? or humans? or.. in jericho?”

Weems's breath hitches slightly at your bluntness, but she manages to maintain her composure, albeit her cheeks are still dusted pink. She takes a moment to consider your question before answering, her words soft but measured.

"Let's start with... ever?"

“mmmn…. okay, please remember this has been over the span of 600 years, but 83.”

Weems can’t help the sudden surprise that shows on her face at the number, her eyes widening only slightly as she registers the fact that you’ve been with 83 people. Her mind stutters for a moment as her imagination briefly runs away with the number, but she shakes her head gently, bringing herself back to the moment at hand.

“Oh my…” is all she says, but her next question is spoken with a touch of curiosity, a hint of surprise still present. “And… how many here in Jericho?”

“….22. although, in my defence, the only way to find your mate is to sleep with them…” you shrug, once again slightly embarrassed of the reality of sleeping with 22 people in a mere year.

Weems can’t help the pang of jealousy that flashes through her veins at the mention of the number for Jericho alone, though she tries to tamper it down immediately, knowing full well she has no right to be envious. She takes a moment to collect herself, her thoughts running a mile a minute again.

"I…. suppose that’s accurate," she says softly, her mind still processing. “But… don’t you get tired of… well… being intimate with so many people?”

“i… well, yes. mostly considering i havent yet found her” your anger spikes enough that a wisteria tree suddenly sprouts to a size rivalling your own without you noticing as you continue* “…but it’ll all be worth it once i’ve found her— oh! but don’t worry, i havent slept with anyone of my nevermore colleagues. i know it’s against the rules” you added with a smile*

Weems can’t help but flinch as the tree suddenly appears, her heart pounding in her chest once more out of a mix of surprise and worry. She takes a moment to glance around the room, her mind still trying to wrap up their discussion, before it finally returns to you when you mention the rule at Nevermore.

The mention of you not having slept with any of the other faculty or staff allows her heart to calm slightly, and she can’t help but ask, “And… what about students?”

“oh, no no never! my mate, if human or outcast is *atleast* in her thirties at this point, and event thats a little young… and either way, i only sleep with willing participants, which students do not happen to be” You say seriously.

“And… would I be incorrect in assuming you have no mate as of yet? Because of how you haven’t shared a bed with someone you feel the connection with?”

You blush, face coated in heat “yes. i know she’s somewhere here, in the jericho area, i just can’t for the life of me find her” *You sigh, flopping back down beside larissa dramatically, my top sliding down a bit

Weems can’t help the way her gaze drifts to your newly revealed skin once when you flop back down beside her, her cheeks flushing pink once more as her eyes dart back up to your face. She swallows hard, trying to keep her mind on the conversation at hand and not on your state of undress. She’s quiet for a moment, contemplating something, before she speaks up once more, her voice soft yet curious.

“You’re… absolutely certain she’s somewhere around the Jericho area? No where else?”

“Well… i hope so, considering this is where i was called to… maybe she’s even working at the school. say, you don’t happen to know any women between the ages of 35 and 60 working at the school do you?” You smile tiredly up at her, for as to the extent of knowledge most of the female staff here are either too old or too young or even too non-existent to fit your description.

Weems thinks for a moment, her mind running through every single female faculty member that works at the school, silently counting off the ones that fit your age range. She thinks for a few seconds longer before slowly shaking her head, a frown on her face.

“No, everyone on staff is either outside your age range or just not here. I can’t think of a single female faculty member that fits your criteria…other than me.”

As the idea crosses her mind, her heart immediately begins to race, her mind going into overdrive. She shifts nervously for a moment, wondering if you’d be open to the suggestion.

Her voice comes out soft and hesitant as she finally speaks up, her words measured and her gaze not meeting yours.

“Can I… ask you something?”

“sure” you say lazily, glancing towards her, a content smile on your face.

Weems slowly looks back up at you, a pang of both hope and anxiety filling her as she speaks once more, her voice soft yet firm.

“You said… that you’ve been with 22 people during your time in Jericho and you’re certain your supposed mate is in the area. So… what would you say if I… proposed a potential theory?”

“..oh? i’d say i’m very intrigued, please, go on.” you ask, interest piqued

Weems swallows nervously, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepares to state her theory. Her mind races as her courage builds, finally pushing out the words she’s been thinking about.

“What if *I’m* your supposed mate and you just won’t know it until you’ve… engaged in acts with me?”

With eyes flashing a bright gold for a moment, the colour circling your irises, your suddenly on top of her, hands curling into the blanket on either side of me, body leaning over hers in a crouches position as your eyes stare into hers, your faces closer than ever before “i think i’d like to find out. preferably now, if you’d also like” you tell her, my voice much more gravelly than before, taking on a breathy quality as well

Weems breath hitches as you suddenly switch your positions, her eyes growing wide as she looks up at you, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

She takes in the change in your eyes, and the sound of your voice. A shudder runs down her spine a you lean over her, a mixture of lust and want growing. Her breathing is heavy and labored, and she can’t help the word that leaves her lips as she gazes up at you.

”Yes…”

Catching your breath, you stare into her eyes “…are you sure?” you ask again, the insecurity bleeding into your voice.

Weems nods immediately, her gaze unwavering as she looks up into your eyes, her voice growing firm and certain. “Yes… I want this. I *need* this.”

….

hiiii people!! author here, So, originally when i’d sorta planned out this story it ended here, at this part, buuuuut i have vacation time for the next week and a half and could use something to do while visiting home other than working on the farm. So if enough people are interested, i could make this more of a series. thanks for reading - buggy :)

Taglist: @larissalover3

#fanfic #fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday #lesbian fanfic #lesbian #gay #larissa weems fluff #larissa weems x oc #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa x reader #larissa weems fanfic #gwendolineuniverse #gwendoline is mommy #spicy fic

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