#for their undivided attention for a chunk of time they could be using to take care of themselves

[hellpupp]

Big Sad

[pedgito]

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Three: Forbidden Fruit

Chapter Summary: Mr. Miller receives your assignment in it's full detailed exposé and despite his reaction, doesn't seem as pleased as you anticipated. It leads to a tense interaction that lands you in his office with more questions and confusion. [4k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, masturbation (m), confrontations, joel manhandling reader (kinda roughly), panty ripping, one (1) forbidden kiss

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Joel takes the plunge into the assignments the following night—it was a small class so he knew it wouldn’t take a large chunk of time, a couple hours at the end of his day and he’d have it out of the way and grades posted before the following morning. It was always easier to do things this way, hidden away in his office to force his focus and block out the rest of what was going on. 

He flies through the assignments with a detailed precision, giving proper and full notes on things he thinks the students could work on or tweak, give some personal thoughts on creativity, and allow some encouragement where it was needed.

But, your name sits in the bottom of his inbox, bold lettered and unread—he saved it for last.

He could lie and say he didn’t do it on purpose, but he’s come to thoroughly enjoy your writing, so he pushes it off until it’s the final thing he has to grade that night. He knows Tess should be arriving home soon, so despite his want to give you his full, undivided attention—he intends to give it a quick skim.

Joel knows there’s no real notes he can give you. You always had a clear idea on your work, so meticulously planned out that it reminded him of himself in a way.

He takes a sip of the quickly dissipating bourbon in the cup sitting on his desk, ice clinking against the glass as he clicks on your essay and watches it expand onto the screen.

He likes to jot down his thoughts on paper as he goes, making it easier to format and type as he replies—he grips the pencil tight, reading the title of your essay.

                      ill-suited innocence 

In a crowd she finds herself searching, looking for him. Days and days of tense glances and inappropriate thoughts—he must share them too? While she can’t be bothered by the fantasy of mythical creatures and things that only made sense in fiction, she did believe in the fantasy of wanting what she couldn’t have. Him.

Much older, wiser—grim around the eyes and a deep sorrow that burrowed its way into his chest and made home. He couldn’t fix himself, but she could. At least, she thinks she could.

Joel straightened his back, leaning into the screen to assure himself he wasn’t misreading. It was…an interesting take on the assignment he gave you, but he’ll bite. He’s used to your stuff being a little more unorthodox. 

Something along the lines of forbidden fantasy? A tale of love? It wasn’t his particular choice of fiction but he wasn’t opposed to it. He squints, reading more.

He drops the pencil for a moment

Their lives mundane and unassuming, they traverse through life with little enjoyment. Two sides of the same coin and he was too oblivious to realize. He offered smiles and kind words, guidance that seemed from a good place but only allowed her to feel more misdirection. He was an enigma, difficult to decipher and she craved him.

And though he tries to fight whatever attraction he may feel, she can see it in his tense gaze. The lingering touches he leaves on her body. Secret meetings, talks that allowed themselves to be more deep than should be allowed. He was allowing her in little by little but she needed more.

She just had to ask, so she did.

Joel feels a tightening deep in his gut that wasn’t there before, reading between the lines of text and allowing faint glimpses of memories with you to match themselves with the words—his brow furrowing under the guise of…anger? No, frustration. He shouldn’t be equating his perfectly…appropriate relationship with you to this. In fact, it shouldn’t cross his mind. But, it does.

All of this from a dream? He could lie and say he wasn't intrigued, but that wasn't the case.

Joel doesn’t expect the full 180 turn as he glances down at the chunk of text that follows.

“You’re my student,” He whispers to her, “I can’t allow this.”

She bites at her lip, noticing the subtle click of his heels as they hit the floor, back them against his desk as she takes a seat, plastic cup full of pencils falling to the floor but neither of their eyes leaving each other.

“You can,” She encourages, “I’m hardly a student anymore. I’m a friend. We’re friends, right?”

And given his ability to let her in so easily, he also considered her a friend. Naively. He’s gotten himself into this position and he can’t find a reason to not give her what she wants—what he wants.

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, much less polite than a friend would, her fingers quickly undoing his belt—

Joel feels his cock hardening under the confines of his slacks, clearing his throat slightly. He should stop reading—he knows he should. The glaringly obvious lines being crossed are blurred for a moment. He shouldn’t have led you on like this, allowed you to cook up some depraved illusion of what you thought things could be.

Because they couldn’t. That wasn’t what this was. Joel had told himself over and over—he was helping. He didn’t think you’d take advantage of the scenario like this. Still, he finds himself loosening the buckle of his belt as well, unzipping his pants enough that he can stuff his hand into the tight space between his bare cock and briefs, palming himself impatiently.

And he skims—words sticking and fading in his mind. It starts of with a slow, sensual make out and a messily described handjob that has his cocking throbbing with every tight stroke he pulls at his shaft, eventually tired of fighting the tight space he’s allowed with his slacks making it impossible to move, he leans back and pulls his cock out far enough that he has free, unrestrained range. The bourbon glass leaves a sweat ring on the oak of his desk but Joel can’t be bothered, he scrolls down further, taking in the last few scenes that allowed him a full idea of just what exactly you thought was going on between the both of you. Or, what you wanted to happen.

He allows himself a moment to slip out of his headspace and imagine, selfishly.

Bent over the desk, items scattered to the floor he pulled at her skirt, something she wore necessarily—easy access, she whispered against his lips before he bent her fully over the desk, chest pressed against the solid wood.

Joel imagines it vividly, his breath quickening as he tugs at his cock in rough, fast strokes and pictures it—you, bent over his desk and your ass presented to him like a prize and how good it would feel to squeeze the flesh between his hands. He knows your sounds would be sweet, divine, and it drives him wild. 

He’s thought about you before like this, hand wrapped around his cock, but never in full detail as you’d written out.

And then he slips his cock inside of her, a small gasp of, “Just like that, professor.” falling from her lips and it only spurs Joel deeper into his despair, tugging himself until he feels his orgasm creeping up on him, a churning in his gut that feels too good to quit and he reads out the last few lines, as he comes deep inside of, recklessly and without much decision making.

He thought you were smarter than this. Expected more out of you.

There’s a creak of a floorboard down the hall that sends his world crashing down on him, dampening his orgasm almost immediately as he scrambles to shove himself back inside of his slacks, buttoning and buckling his belt hastily as he clicks out of his browsers and feigns exhaustion, Tess’s fingers curling around the doorknob as she peeks her head in, watching as Joel’s fingers circled the glass of liquor.

God, he hates her.

Not you. Tess.

He figured his reasoning was valid, but truthfully—he just couldn’t stand her any longer. He's been battling the decision to go through with his divorce, but this seemed like as big a sign as ever. It's the unbridled rage he was tired of harboring around her, trying to act like things were fine.

Nothing was fine and his life was imploding.

He was lusting after a student and worse, he know you were after him—actively, clear in the boldness you showed through your assignment. 

He thinks back briefly on the video call that he shouldn’t have allowed, your question that seemed…vague but unassuming. Had you planned this the entire time?

Was he just that stupid to not see it?

“Coming to bed tonight?” Tess asks hesitantly.

Joel offers a clear and concise, “No.”

He wasn’t sure if he could even sleep, contemplating over how to handle this…situation.

He couldn’t allow it to stray further.

It would damage his career and ruin his life.

But truthfully, he felt like he’d already reached that point, so what did he have to lose?

-

You wake up on Monday with a deep pit in your chest, knowing that grades were posted that morning. You knew it was a risk, being so open with him—but he couldn’t fail you. You followed the parameters of the assignment and made sure to clear the few questions you had with him.

Part of you is expecting another email from his private account, wondering his thoughts beyond what he would address appropriately. But, the moment your eyes drag along the screen, still blurry from sleep, you feel your heart stop.

0/100. A complete failure.

No comment besides—Rewrite and resend immediately. No extension. Due by the end of the day.

Your jaw clenches in frustration.

Oh, you were not being ignored that easily.

You storm into his room later that day during your free hour for lunch, knowing he’d be saddled up at his desk eating his own lunch. 

You couldn’t even think about eating, full of anger and annoyance that kept you full and ready to strike. He can hear your footsteps before you approach and is wiping at his mouth with a napkin when you stop at his desk.

He holds a hand up, face steely and emotionless.

For a moment, you think he might break. Crack a smile and say it was an excuse to get you here.

Instead, he has your essay printed out and ready to shove at you, your fingers curling around the stack and crinkling the edges. 

“You can’t fail me,” You start tensely, “I did your stupid assignment and I followed the steps you asked for.”

“I expect a new one by the end of the day. Appropriate to the topic. End of discussion.”

You scoff, not daring to look at the glaring zero he drew out on the paper just to prove a point. It lands in the trash as you throw it down, “No.”

Joel’s chair squeaks as he rises and it startles you slightly, and suddenly he’s invading your space, the muscles in his neck tightening as he pointed an accusatory finger at the trashed papers.

“In what situation did you think any of that was appropriate to write and send to your professor?” Joel asks, noting the way you blink quickly, backing away slightly.

He almost…feels bad? No. He quickly wipes the thought away as more anger crosses your face, eyes dilating in rage.

You lean in slightly, thankful that the halls were quiet around this time of day and that you had closed the door behind you. 

“You started this,” You argue, “You crossed that line when you messaged me on a private email. Telling me that you liked the time we spent together. I’m your student—maybe you should’ve taken that into account first.”

His fist clenched at his side, almost to restrain himself, knowing he’d rather shove that finger into your chest and blame you. But, you were both to blame. And he even more so. Still, he doubles down.

“Rewrite it or I’ll fail you for the entire semester.”

Your mouth gapes open, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“That’s…completely unfair.” You settle, voice softer as you drop the act. “I just—”

“Rewrite it.” Joel responds firmly.

“Mr. Miller—” You begin, trying to find a feasible way to get him to listen.

“Or I fail you.” He says with finality. “You’re lucky I don’t take this to the board.”

Which, he never would. He’s just as much at fault. But, he’s taking his frustration out on you. An easy target, slim pickings. 

You weren’t playing into that though, not now.

“You won’t,” You challenge him, “because if you do—I can assure you, you won’t appreciate the results.”

It was a threat. Cold and plain.

“Rewrite it,” He reiterates again, his voice softer now. “I have to submit these assignments at the end of the semester and if—that cannot be in there. I need a real essay. Real. Not some fucking delusion.”

It’s the first time he’s talked so…out of term. It feels like him, the real Mr. Miller.

Fine—you’ll write the goddamn essay as he intended. You roll your eyes and Joel relaxes slightly, seeing your defeat as you settle your shoulders back.

“I want it on my desk by the end of day.”

Sure, you could manage that.

If anything, it gave you more of an excuse to drag out his torture a little longer.

-

You spend the entirety of his class working out a new essay, bullshitting your way through an hour of class and typing up something feasible enough to get you a decent grade, knowing that his views of you were already tainted. But, that didn’t matter. 

You had plans.

When evening rolls around and classes are finally done for the day, you make the long trek across campus to his class, finding it empty but spotting the light in his private office is still on, a low and muted orange that shined through the window. You approach slowly and knock on the door, hearing his muffled greeting on the other side.

You peek inside, noting his position as he rests with his fist pressed against the side of his face, seemingly nursing a headache as he rubs the fingers of his free hand over his forehead and sighs, closing his laptop as you hold out the small stack of papers for him to grab. He does, skimming through it briefly. You toss your bag off your shoulder and rest it in a nearby chair, standing quietly.

“Something bothering you?” You ask politely, hands crossed over your front as fiddled idly with your fingers, “Mr. Miller?”

He looks up tensely, eyes darkened and foreboding.

“What did you mean earlier?” He asks suddenly, reading your essay with a careful eye. Scribbling something down before he pushes it away, fingers clasped together under his chin as he gives you his full attention. “That I wouldn’t…appreciate the results?”

“Oh, that was—”

A threat. He knows it. You know it.

And he voices it.

“It was a threat, wasn’t it?” He asks coarsely, his voice sounding rough. 

He seemed worse for wear, with good reason.

The dignified squeak of his chair is like deja-vu but you don’t back away this time, turning to him as he rounds his desk—his tie is gone, starch pressed shirt unbuttoned to a dangerous degree and his belt is missing, your eyes tracking it in a nearby corner where it’s slung over an empty chair. 

He allowed you in here, the small glimpse of his relaxed state. He wasn’t shutting you out necessarily, which was good. But, you still felt unwanted. It was almost like he was dangling a myriad of fruit in front of you, ripe for the taking, but riddled with poison. Forbidden.

“No—”

He grabs your wrist suddenly, tight and gasp-inducing as he pulls it up until it’s level between you both, right at chest level and you’re waiting for him to let go, but he doesn’t.

“Tell. The. Truth.” He says pointedly, a small jerk of your arm with every syllable as he pulls you undoubtedly closer, “I want to hear it.”

Instead of admitting that you did openly threaten him, you switch gears.

“What? That I want you to fuck me?” You ask innocently, pulling your wrist away harshly. “Joel, come on—don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.”

His name is like a gut-punch, a reminder that he gave you that information under the idea that you would keep it safe, but now you were using it against him.

“Don’t—” He warns and your hands press into his crisp button-up, scrunching the fabric in an effort to wrinkle it, feeling the solid press of muscle under your hands that makes your mouth water, eyes widening slightly at the touch and for a split second, he allows it.

He had to escape the situation before he acted on something he would regret.

“Get out.” Joel responds through gritted teeth, shoving your hands away harshly and in turn, forcing you back a few steps with the urgency of it. “Now.”

Still, you step closer, chest against chest as you can feel the distinct bulge in his slacks against your front, tongue clicking in your mouth as you cocked your head to the side mockingly, a finger tracing along the buttons of his shirt until you can curl the tip of it around the hem of his pants.

“You can do it, you know,” You offer, “You could fuck me right now and I wouldn’t tell a soul, not even your wife—or…ex-wife? I’m not sure since you never wear your ring.”

Fuck this and her smart ass mouth, Joel thinks.

Joel’s nostrils flare and he snaps, backing you into the wall by his hand pressed against your chest, the bookshelf beside you shaking with the force. His hands creep up your neck, pressing rigid against the skin and he keeps you there, trapped.

“I can feel it,” You tease through strained vocal cords, his finger squeezing against your neck–not quite cutting off air flow, but the pressure is there and you feel it. It makes your head swim, squirming against his hold as he shifts closer, body pressed against your own firmly, “is that why you asked me to turn the paper in by the end of the day? You wanted me here, didn’t you? I guess my essay did strike a nerve after all.”

The laugh that follows is sickening, a grin appearing under his sneer. His fingers move up a few inches to grip your face. Hard. Squeezing until he feels the solid press of your cheekbones under his thumb and he speaks, so quietly into the space you can barely hear him, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Your eyes drift to his, his head tilting up slightly away from your ear that he had whispered into and there’s glint in your eye. It’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to burrow yourself under his skin so he couldn't get rid of you.

He feels your fingers continue to trace along the seam of his shirt, tracing over the bumps of the material until you meet his slacks, pressing your palm flat over his cock, hardened under the material and straining–and he can’t help the way his breath intakes sharply, the full body restraint it takes to not rut into your hand. He knows he has the upper hand here, but with the small amount of effort it takes to break his revere for himself, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up.

“I would,” You nod slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he tightens his grip with your admittance and in turn, you squeeze him just a little harder. He hisses and leans in, letting go of your face to return to your neck–he isn’t squeezing this time, but his hand is a solid presence. You move, he moves. And if he doesn’t like how you move, you would end up exactly where he wants you to, “Come on, Joel. You read all about it. I can do so much more than whatever your wife is doing—isn’t that why you reached out to me?”

“Don’t—stop saying my name.” He warns, trying to keep what little line of professionalism he had between you there, unblurred. “I reached out to help. As your mentor.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a few things you could teach me.” You say sweetly, the deft sound of his zipper being undone by your hand, popping the button on his pants, “Joel, please.”

He stops your hand in it’s decent, fingers tracing along the hem of his underwear before he’s gripping your arm and turning you with little resistance on your end, front pressed harshly against the stucco wall, a sharp gasp emitting from your throat as he crowds you in again, whispering harshly into your ear, “Mr. Miller. Not Joel. You don’t get that privilege. And stop talking about my fucking wife.”

You moan brokenly at the feeling of his cock pressed against your ass, skirt riding up your thighs and you were sure—positive that Joel could see the fabric of your underwear clinging to your hips from how high up and mused your skirt was now, but he can’t take his eyes of your face, anger emitting from his own and suffocating you like a blanket.

You were pressing his buttons just right and he hated it.

“So, no marital troubles then?” You pester him and he shuts you up immediately, palm covering your mouth tightly as his free hand grips at the hem of your underwear at your hip and tugs—yep, he saw them. Some soft color, all lacy, meant to be attention-grabbing. And if Joel couldn’t have you the way he truly desires, he’d make you wish you could have it even worse than he wanted it. “You—huh, you can’t even wear your wedding ring, Mr. Miller—don’t lie to me.”

He pulls at the material of your panties until they’re riding up your ass slightly, pulled tighter against your cunt and the drag of the material against your clit is almost unexpected. He’s pointedly avoiding touching you so intimately, teetering on the edge of not enough and too much.

“You thought it would be that easy?” Joel asks testingly, jerking your head slightly when you don’t answer. You figured it was redundant but clearly not. You mumble against his hand, overwhelmed by his touch that all you can do is nod, forehead pressed against the wall as he breathes down your neck. “You’re mistaken.”

There’s a distinct rip of fabric as he removes his hand from your mouth quickly using his hands to grip your panties in tight fists, tearing it apart as it falls from your body and you think he might just do it—shove his slacks just far enough down his thighs and slip inside of you, bring an end to all of your suffering.

And his own.

Instead his fingers tighten around your forearm, spinning you in his hold and shoving the ripped fabric into your hand, leaving you bare under your skirt and exposed and Joel doesn’t mistake the wetness on the material. His fingers linger over your palm and you scoff, adjusting your skirt and slightly skewed shirt.

“Keep them,” You challenge, shoving the material into his chest before he allows them to drop to the floor, eyes trailing your departing figure as you reach for your discarded bag, “a gift for your wife—you know, the one who you avoided to spend time with me. Right?”

You want the words to linger and sting, bag slung lazily around your shoulder as you depart for the door, ignoring the quickly approaching footsteps. Joel, unbeknownst to you, had already pocketed your panties, torn to shreds in the pocket of his slacks. But, the words cut deep and he can’t leave things like this and allow you the final word.

Joel yanks the strap of your bag and backs you against the office door, the wood rattling against your conjoined weight as his lips press against yours in haste, messy and uncoordinated but your brain quickly assess what’s happening and joins, your lips parting to allow his eager tongue into your mouth. His kiss is biting and furious, mean and full of nothing but tense emotion. It’s months of suffocated lust pouring into you, out of him, and you swallow it down eagerly. His hand holds your chin forcefully, sloppy exchanges of spit and forceful bites, a battle for dominance that Joel quickly won out on.

And you think that maybe that comment was the final straw, that he might just give you what you want, but your delicate moan that slips into his mouth as chase him, his head pulling back slightly at the noise—it had him falling back to reality, right on his ass.

There wasn’t any line left to cross anymore. He’d obliterated it.

“Don’t threaten me again,” He warns, “ever.”

There’s one solid shove against the door as your head hits the surface gently, his touch quickly dissipating and his disheveled appearance a tell-tale sign in your mind. He was fighting his own battle and losing terribly.

“Of course,” You agree sardonically, “Mr. Miller.”

The silent click of the door is deafening and Joel retreats to his desk, punching a fist into the solid wood, the papers of your assignment flying to the floor. He can't be bothered to pick them up or even allow them the proper glance they deserve.

Because you—in his mind, don't deserve it.

And he's not going to give you that satisfaction.

It's unprofessional, but he'll allow it this once. It only takes a few quick clicks and he's adjusting the assignment out for your new one.

Poof. Gone. Like it never existed.

But, the grade is unchanging and he knows that will make things tremendously worse, but he can't be bothered to care anymore.

You'd be back and that's exactly what he wants.

[eepwriting]

• mean brat taming dom ii who is SO soft with u after (my hc says there’s no way he’s not into impact play tbh)

• ivy being the absolute softest gentlest daddy dom ever (tell me he doesn’t give that strong gentle energy. the praise he would give?! UGH)

• primal feral vessel claiming you after chasing you through the forest. right there on the leaf littered floor

• iii edging you over and over on his thigh until you’re sobbing and brain dead (really i just think iii would enjoy being as much of a fucking tease as possible. whispering dirty thoughts in your ear through the day. stealing spicy touches. leading up to when he can finally get you alone and drive you REALLY crazy)

• reader x vessel x ivy threesome. soft daddy dom ivy and mean dom vessel

i have too many filthy ideas but no ability to write them so 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 godspeed, hope these inspire some filth from you!

- thirsty girl 💘

Count ‘em ✶ II x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, impact play (spanking, light slapping, choking, pinching, hair pulling), degradation, oral (m receiving), mean! ii

TRUST when I say I will be returning to this ask to write something for every prompt. Also, THANKS for some ii stuff!! I was feeling bad that I only had one thing wrote for him 🤍🤍

!! mdi !!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

“Move it, I’ve already said it once. That should be enough.” His voice is stern, his eyes serious as he impatiently drums his fingers on his legs.

You knew him well enough at this point to know what his calm demeanor truly meant. Even the way he undressed you minutes before had been slow and careful. Only you knew that the second he got you over his lap, his actions would not be gentle.

You swallow nervously, hoping he can’t hear the sound of your heart about to break through your chest. You knew your brattiness throughout the day had gotten you here. Your unrelenting back talk and attitude wasn’t something you gave ii often, but for whatever reason, you wanted to see how far you could push him today.

You’re slow to move towards him, his full and undivided attention on you feeling as if it was about to burn a hole into the side of your face. He lets you help yourself onto his lap, crawling to lay face down across his spread thighs. His hand is heavy on your back once you get settled, sliding up your spine to rest in between your shoulder blades. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been awfully difficult.” His hand moves up into your hair to tug, pulling your head back slightly. “Hm?”

You think about your answer carefully and decide to just be honest with him. He’d know anyway if you were lying. “I think it’s fun.” Your hand grips his calf when he tugs harder, isolating a chunk of hair at the crown of your head. “Fun? To mess with me? To irritate and piss me off to no end? You think that’s fun, is what I’m hearing?” You nod meekly, silently enjoying the pull on your hair. He only hums and reaches his other hand around to wrap around your throat, applying enough pressure to make breathing slightly more difficult, but not enough to make you panic for air.

“Well I don’t think that’s very fun at all. In fact, only a desperate, pathetic little whore would find something like that to be fun. Is that what you are then? A desperate and pathetic whore?” The hand in your hair disappears to grope roughly at your ass before settling on a cheek, leaving a stinging pinch. You take in a short gasp of air at the sting, earning a quiet snicker from ii. His full hand comes down in a dull smack before massaging over your skin. “You make it so easy, you know. Your skin practically begs to be marked up. You seem to want that too, don’t you? You wouldn’t act up if you didn’t.” Another, this time harsher smack is dealt. “I didn’t get an answer to my question.” The hand around your throat tightens.

Your eyes close in a long blink before you attempt a nod. He makes a sound of disappointment next to you. “You know you’re supposed to use your words. Don’t play dumb.” His hand moves to the back of your thigh to pinch and pull at the skin.

You squirm and squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes. I’m a desperate and pathetic whore.” This earns you a groan and another spank. “There you go. Maybe you can follow instructions. Why don’t you count ‘em for me, hm?” His touch is soft as he runs his hand up your back. Your mumbled and nervous “okay” is enough for him to swat at your ass again. He waits for your response before landing another. “2…” The pain is tolerable but you know he’s just warming up.

He lands 10 solid smacks, each progressively getting harsher before massaging his hand over your stinging skin. You hiss at the touch and make a poor attempt to shift your hips away from him. “I like watching you jolt from the pain. The little gasps you let out.” The hand around your throat moves to run through your hair.

He repeats the same actions on the other cheek, but doesn’t build up at all. The 10 makes your skin sting, like hot fire, your eyes watering at the repeated blows. II knows you can take it, knows you enjoy it. Clearly evident by the way moans and whimpers flood out of your mouth and your hips grind down on his thigh.

He lets you rest, massaging his fingers over your scalp, his other hand lightly scratching over your back. “On your knees now.” He says after his moment of quiet tenderness. Excitement blooms in your stomach, ready and aching to take more than just his harsh hands. You’re slow to move off his lap and even slower to sink to the floor. The skin on your ass is hot against your calves and ankles, a dull but persistent sting radiating as you get situated on your knees.

II cups the sides of your face, moving your head side to side as he looks down at you. His thumbs move over your cheeks before he leans down to press his mouth to yours. It’s harsh and rushed. Teeth clashing together before he bites over your bottom lip. His hand returns around your throat before he drags you up to stand on your knees. He roughly grips your hip, digging his fingertips into the skin, hard enough you’re sure to see a bruise in the morning. He licks into your mouth a final time before breaking away from you. He groans when he looks at you. Hair messed up from his hands, lips red and slightly inflamed, the skin on your neck a bright white with how much pressure he’s applying to your throat. His thumb absentmindedly runs over your lips before he hooks it over your bottom lip to force your mouth open. Your tongue comes out to lick over his thumb, earning another low groan from ii. “Such a pretty mouth. I’m gonna fuck it.” His thumb messily runs over your outstretched tongue. An inadvertent whimper comes from you at those words, your hands impatiently grabbing at his thighs. He snickers at you before standing to remove his jeans.

Both his hands cradle your head in surprising tenderness but his eyes and facial expression are cold and stern as he looks down at you. He lightly slaps your cheek twice and you take that as a cue to open your mouth for him. He hums, sliding one hand to the back of your head. He wastes no time in sliding his cock fully into your awaiting mouth. II’s jaw clenches and his hips buck towards you when your lips wrap around him. “Put that mouth of yours to good use.” He grunts, cock moving in and out of your mouth quickly. His too tight grip on your hair makes you whine around him and squeeze your eyes shut. A harsher slap lands on your cheek. “You keep your eyes on me.” It almost comes out in a growl as he practically straddles your face, forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he can. He doesn’t let up despite your watering eyes, gags and nails digging into the skin on his thighs.

You know he’s close when the sounds he lets out become higher pitched and the rhythm of his thrusts turn disjointed. “Take it. Be good and take it.” He breathes out before letting out a long groan. His movements pause as he cums at the back of your throat, his hand holding your head close to him. You breathe through your nose and patiently wait for him to pull away from you. You can finally close your eyes, forcing leftover tears down your cheeks when he backs away. You stay looking up at him, his chest heaving, eyes heavy and relaxed now.

He lazily reaches out to brush over the top of your head and wipe over your cheeks. He holds his hand out for you, letting you take your time in rising to your feet. He pulls you into a long hug, hands running up and down your back. He guides you to lay on the bed, insisting you lay on your stomach. He lays next to you for a short while, asking you repeatedly if you’re okay, peppering kisses on the side of your face. He leaves your side and comes back with water and an ice pack. He watches you sip the water while holding the ice on your still red hot skin. He coos at you when you wince, shuffling closer to you as he watches you with concern filled eyes.

Your tiredness eventually catches up to you and you’re not sure how long you’ve dozed off before you feel ii straddle your hips. You whine when his hard again cock pushes against you. “Mm, don’t touch…it’s too much.” You furrow your brows and try to shift away from his hands that brush over your aching skin. “Shhh, I know, love. You’ve been so good for me…wanna help you. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His voice is quiet as he leans over you, nuzzling his head against your neck. He lazily mouths over your skin and ever so slowly inches into you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

The way I could not focus for more than 5 minutes while writing this 🙃 I had different plans for this but I just could not use enough brain power to write it lol

BUT I’m so excited to return to this ask!!! So many good ideas 👏🏻 thank you again anon 💘

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed!

K. Bye bye.

[solosikoasgf]

you know my body is yours , roman reigns (nsfw)

pairing: roman reigns x oc (afab / black reader) synopsis: vacations are rare, and so you make the most of the sun, the sand, and undivided time with each other. themes: it's nasty, that's all ik. oral (f receiving), light choking, a little dominance. word count: roughly 2.5k author's notes: i am not a smut writer so y'all need to be nice. i just wanted to write about roman being sweet on vacation before i go back to hating him this week. minors dni! taglist: @rez-luvs-hook — @southerngirl41 — @harmshake — @christinabae — @dreamsinfocus — @thesamoanqueen — @thewarlordsworld — @cyberdejos2 — let me know if you want to be added! song recommendations: no limit by tank ft alex isley, it's yours by destin conrad, yours by dixson ft india shawn

the sun is still high in the sky, despite the time ticking closer to evening hours. the two of them had spent all day there, in the rays of the sun, in the waves of the surf, and laying in the sand. a vacation for roman was rare, and jade didn't find herself entitled to his time - in fact, she had encouraged him to take the time to rest and get family affairs in order, or do whatever it was that would make him feel relaxed.

so she was utterly shocked when he showed up with a suitcase for her to pack up, and a flight for them to catch. so much so that he had to basically pack the bag for her just to usher her out so they could make the flight on time, with gentle assurances that if she needed more clothes, she could use his credit card at any store she desired once they reached their destination.

and so the past three days had been filled with nothing but bliss - his undivided attention.

day one spent lounging around their resort, a large suite with a swim up pool, so they didn't find the need to really go anywhere but just rest, enjoying each other's company. day two had been spent out, walking in town, eating everything. day three was for excursions - zip lining, hiking, boat rides, biking. all of the little sweet things that made memories. and jade couldn't help but ooh and ahh at everything, it had been a number of years since she had a vacation, so focused on her career and taking care of her parents as they got older in age.

but today was for the beach, and the beach only. they arrived early in the day, making their spot under a shady palm that was out of the way - so no matter how many people packed the beach, they were sure nobody would venture out where they were.

she watched now as roman made his way back to her, hair wet from the ocean, a tan settled into his skin, taking it to a tawny bronze that accentuated the freckles that hid in his face, to his chest and back. his smile is wide and hands are full with two plastic bowls full of fruit from the vendor who had just passed, and jade smiles, shielding her eyes and setting her book aside to make room for him on their array of beach towels.

"for me?" she beams, faking shock and astonishment as she takes the bowl from him and he eases down across from her. his shorts ride up on his thighs, and he spreads his legs, opening his arms and gesturing her forward. he sighs in contentment when she's face to face with him, her legs on top of his and behind his torso.

"you havin' a good time, babygirl?" he watches her ditch the fork with a smile, as she picks up a chunk of mango with her fingers and bites into it, the juice running down her hand and into her arm.

"mhmm." jade hums, feeding him the other half, which he accepts happily, letting his lips wrap around her fingers to suck the lingering juice off. her eyebrows shoot up a bit, but she gives him a knowing smile and goes back to picking fruit from the bowl. "best baecation ever. but you really didn't have to - like we could have stayed stateside."

he snorts. "best vacations are always out of the country. don't think i didn't see how stressed you've been recently. you're not as good at hiding it as you think you are." he taps her left temple with two fingers as admonishment, and she apologizes with the offering of a piece of kiwi, that he accepts.

"i didn't wanna bother you. you're always on the road or in meetings - the last thing you need to hear on our calls is about why deidre pissed me off again."

"nothing about you bothers me. i'm your man, it's my job to be here for you, and to take those burdens off you. i ain't say nothing, but don't do it again." he warns, letting his hands settle on her thighs, warmed from the sun. "i'm not playin' either, jade."

she rolls her eyes, but he catches her face with his hand, amused. "i'm not playin." he repeats, voice a little lower. she nods quietly, and he picks a strawberry out of her bowl, pressing it to her lips. and when she bites down and juice runs down the sides of her lips, he quickly moves forward to press his lips on hers, hand grabbing at the back of her neck to pull her closer while their lips move against each other's.

she can taste the saltwater on his lips and tongue when he deepens their kiss, and ocean water drips onto her chest from his hair, cold. this moment is one she wishes she could bottle up and live in forever.

jade sighs in contentment, using the heels of her feet to dig into the towel to scoot herself just a bit closer, hands sliding up his chest and around his neck. she can feel his length start to poke at her thigh, and she pulls back, holding his face in her hands with a smile - but his eyes are dark, and his hands have tight grip of her thighs. "joe," she warns.

"let's head back," he murmurs, pressing his forehead to hers.

"it's still early."

"i want to take some of that stress off you."

they barely make it in and out of the shower in one piece, with roman almost engulfing jade to the point where her mind can barely think. from the second they landed back in their room, his hands and lips made quick work of taking her over the edge - the push and pull of him teasing and coaxing, but never quite giving into her.

he had clearly meant it - there wouldn't be room for stress in her mind, because all she could think of was how much she wanted to feel him stretch her out, take her over the limit.

her back hits the bed, black locs fanning out, cowrie shells attached to the ends tingling together in a quiet song. roman's eyes drink her in, steam still rolling off his body from the shower. from her round eyes and soft features, to round supple breasts that dips into a soft midsection. his hands palm her thighs, kneading with added pressure. they roam up to her stomach, fingering the glittering waist beads stacked on her waist. "i ever tell you how sexy these are?"

she breathes hard, but still smiles, her hand sliding down on top of his. "i put on extra, just for you. i know you like to see 'em when you hit backstrokes. i even took the excess," she pauses, raising her right leg a little, revealing beads on her ankle, "and made little anklets. they'll look so good...on your shoulders."

he groans, leaning forward to take her breast into his mouth, making her gasp, back coming up off the mattress. his hand slide under her thigh, and her breaths come shallow when his tongue circles around her nipples, suckling gently, and then gradually growing rougher, while his other hand twisted her other nipple between skilled fingers. "fuck." she whispers harshly, pushing her hands down on his shoulders.

his lips find her neck next, and she can hear him breathing hard, leaving harsh open mouthed kisses, biting down near her ears enough to make her yelp, and then covering the area with kisses and swipes of his tongue, all the while his hand slips down her thighs, gently coaxing them apart, dancing up the warm and already sticky inner thigh, thumb pressing to her clit to start a slow rotation of circles.

it's deliberate, and it's agonizing. she moves her hips in time to his fingers, desperately trying to up the pace, when she hears him chuckle, low. "hold on a lil longer." he assures, slipping two fingers in deep. the addition makes her groan, inhaling hard.

with every quick and deliberate stroke, his fingers become slicker in her arousal, and her moans scale up in octave, grasping onto his wrist for some semblance of control. but the second he feels her hand, he pulls away, in smooth motion lowering himself between her thighs. he squeezes hard. "keep your eyes on me."

jade shifts up on her elbows, pushing locs out of her face to lock eyes with his - both of them silent in the heavy tension of the moment, while he lowers himself down, steady eyes when he gently attaches himself to her clit, suckling softly with a low groan. she instinctively grabs at the sheets, attempting to keep her eyes from closing and letting her back hit the mattress once again.

the warmth of his mouth and tongue running over her clit and lips are almost unbearable, and it doesn't take long before her breathing is labored and soft breaths become soft moans that gradually get louder - all the while he maintains eye contact. he grips harder on her thigh, sucks with more aggression, and the small amount of composure she had been holding falls.

"oooh-" she breathes, finally collapsing back onto the pillows, hands reaching to tangle themselves in his hair while her back arches. he doesn't stop - running the flat of his tongue up her slit, collecting the wetness that had accumulated from his teasing, coming back up to suck on her clit. he pushes her thighs up towards her chest, rising slightly to his knees to push his face into her sex.

for roman, there are no more thoughts to be had. her body at his disposal, the way she dripped and moaned for him, the way her body responded so easily at his touch, at his voice, was enough. and he wanted to see her crumble to nothing - to pleasure her until she was spent and her voice was hoarse. he moans into it, pushing his tongue in an area right under her clit - her grip on his hair tightens, and she pushes his head further in, grinding her hips against his face with gradual urgency.

"fuck. joe, i'm -" gasps for breath, "i don't think i can hold it-" there's a build in her lower abdomen, and her grinding becomes more frantic, hands holding her own thighs up to her chest to give him more room to flick her clit.

he doesn't bother to answer, pushing her legs further back, using a hand to grasp onto hers for encouragement.

let go. let me have it. let me taste it.

"oh my god, i'm cum-" a moan fills the rest of her sentence, her thighs shaking around his face. a build and a release of pleasure streams through her body, one hand clamped onto his, another gripping onto strands of his hair, coming down from her high with deep breaths and smiles.

he finally relents, sitting up on his knees, mouth and beard wet, webs of her arousal dotting various spots between dark brown and gray streaks of hair. roman watches her catch her breath, gently rubbing circles into her sides, hovering over her to capture her lips with his own. her arms circle his shoulders and pull him closer, her tongue slipping past his lips in a way that makes him a little crazy, hand gripping her neck. his dick is hard and rubbing against the wetness of her pussy, and he needs to feel her, be encompassed by her warmth when her legs pull him in deep.

"you good, baby?" brown eyes search hers in a moment of softness.

"yeah, i'm good." she brushes hair out of his face, twirling a piece around her finger.

"we can stop," he murmurs as her fingers trace over his face, and he leaves faint kisses on her fingers when they pass by his lips and into his beard.

she doesn't respond, pulling him in for a kiss, reaching down to guide his dick into her warmth, both exchanging a breath in a kiss. roman's teeth grit down, and the soft moment is gone - they lock eyes with brief understanding, and she relents.

and he takes over.

roman leans back, guiding her legs over his shoulders, pressing kisses on the insides of her thighs, knees, calves, arches of her foot, running his fingers across the glittering beads that adorn her ankles as he settles them on his shoulders. he leans over her, forearms on either side of her head, and starts to give slow but hard strokes. each one slow on the out, but pushing in quickly with enough force to make her cry out.

he relishes in her moans, burying his face into her neck and using his hands to hold her thighs open, bending her all the way back so he had full control of her pleasure as he picked up his pace, their skin slapping together with the sound of her moans.

"look at you," he murmurs into her ear between strokes. "taking this dick so well. i can feel you dripping all over it."

"no fuckin' shit-"

"yeah? tell me how it feels."

"so fucking good." she chokes out, scratching at his back.

"it's yours. it's all yours baby. and i'm gonna give it all to you." he groans, losing himself in the warmth of her pussy. his strokes get faster, keeping his head level enough to see her face contort in pleasure, crying out his name.

arousal so thick, the room feels hot, and he can feel fluids dripping down her thighs. it's getting harder to stay inside of her with how wet she is, and he locks his feet into the mattress to gain more leverage, gathering her up in his arms tightly to barrel deep inside of her - inhaling the scent of ocean water still lingering in her hair to try and anchor him down from finishing too soon.

"don't hold out, give it to me. let me feel you cum on me. claim this dick as yours." he growls.

her moans get louder, nails digging into her back with red marks left in their aftermath. between the high of her first orgasm, his weight pressing into her body leaving her unable to move, and his dick, pushing and pulling her until her brain could barely form thoughts, she was unraveling fast, biting down hard on her lip as she felt an orgasm barrleling towards her fast.

she slaps his shoulders, pushing against him with a shriek. "it's too much, i can't- i'm about to-"

roman doesn't let her finish, pressing her mouth into hers to absorb her protests, feeling her pussy clench down on him, forcing his own orgasm. they pant, foreheads touching while he strokes them both through their high, running his fingers down her thighs to sooth her while she whimpers, and her pussy squeezes out the last bit of cum from him. he stills, letting a moment or two pass, letting her legs down to lay on top of her, his weight settling down, forehead to her breasts.

"you good?" she whispers.

"mhm." this time it's him that needs the comfort, and he sighs at her fingers tracing designs over his back - most likely over the tattoos that adorned his upper half.

"that felt like you're the one who had stress."

"both things can be true."

"you feel more relaxed?"

he lifts his head with broad smile, and in return she laughs, carding a hand through his drying hair.

"i love you, joe."

"i love you too." sweet smiles, a pause. "let me eat a piece of fruit off your nipple real fast -"

"damn, you can't even wait three minutes?"

"i just wanna see sumn-"

her laughs fill their villa, and his smile spreads up through his face. this is what they both needed. each other.

[every-dayiwakeup]

Fighting Noises

Also available on ao3

Steve had been against the idea from the start, but once Billy decided something, he was just as immovable as Steve. Plus, they had just started dating, and the last thing Steve wanted was for their spark to fizz out so soon.

Whatever it takes to be happy, right?

Now, as Billy strides toward him wearing his best “I hate you” face, Steve really wishes he’d pushed a little more.

                                       —----------------------------------------------

“You want us to do what?”

“I said, I want us to pretend we fucking hate each other’s guts,” Billy repeated like he was suggesting what they order for dinner.

“No, no, I got that. But why?”

“Because , Harrington.”

Whoever said boys were less complicated than girls was a single, dumb sack of shit.

“Is this about your father?”

“Contrary to popular belief, my problems don’t all revolve around him.”

Steve sat up on his bed, giving Billy his undivided attention. “Then what is it about?”

“We agreed to keep… us a secret.”

Steve opened his mouth to interrupt, but Billy continued, “I don’t give a shit if no one knows. Just pull King Steve back out of your ass, and I’ll be my usual, delightful self.” He raised his eyebrows, as if he expected Steve to imply otherwise. Something about how he’d said “delightful” sounded derogatory.

Instead, Steve kissed the frown off Billy’s face until a tentative smile took its place. Unfortunately, that strange plan of his wasn’t forgotten.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?”

Is that your best attempt at being the worst? Steve wants so badly to laugh at his goof of a boyfriend, but then Billy would give him an agonizing silent treatment for as long as he could actually remain silent, which was surprisingly a decent chunk of time.

I did say I’d play my part.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

Your move, now.

“What’s going on out there, Steve?”  Dustin yells from inside the Byers’ house.

“Nothing, dipshit.”

“Are you sure? I could’ve sworn I heard Billy’s voice.”

Billy flinches, and Steve doesn’t blame him. The kid makes his name sound like a curse word.

“Yeah, it’s me, Anderson,” Billy recovers quickly, smirking.

“Henderson!” “Don’t care.” He gives Steve a dirty look, mouthing, “Do I gotta do everything around here?” before spitting, “Watch your fucking mouth, Harrington.”

“Talking to yourself again, Hargrove?” He hates Billy’s last name because he knows how much Billy hates it.

“I know my stepsister is here. Come on out, Maxine!”

“She’s not here. Why don’t you get back in your little car and drive back home?” Don’t.

“No can do.” Billy shoves Steve hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and looks down at him with disdain, his cigarette still in his mouth somehow. “I thought I told you to plant your feet.”

Billy invents a whole new level of pretty when he’s angry, even if it’s an act. He really does take Steve’s breath away.

“You’re a fucking asshole. What’d I ever do to you?”

“I don’t like liars.”

Steve reaches forward and pulls Billy on top of him. I wanna kiss you so bad right now; you have no fucking clue.

“Do it,” Billy spits, tugging Steve’s collar.

Jesus Christ, can he read minds?

“Punch me.”

“Huh?”

“Punch. Me.”

“I’m not gonna punch you, idiot. What the fuck?” Steve hisses, horrified. He’s never wanted to kill a man more than he’s wanted to kill Neil Hargrove.

“Why not? Scared, Harrington?”

“I’m not doing this.” “Commit to the role, c’mon!”

“It was your idea, not mine!”

“You went along with it.”

“Until tonight. I’m not hitting you.”

“You know you want to. Everyone wants a shot at me.”

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.” “You can’t tell me you haven’t dreamed of giving me a big ole shiner.”

“The only bruises I wanna give you are when I leave behind a hickey or two.” Steve nips the tender flesh of Billy’s neck, and Billy whines so loud it shocks him.

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” he growls, pushing Steve’s chest.

“How about we come up with a new plan? Sound good?” Steve unbuttons Billy’s remaining buttons with his teeth and starts teasing him, pretending to bite his tits, but then nibbling on his earlobes instead.

“Gahhhhhhhh!”

“You’re gonna wake the dead.”

Billy weakly tries kneeing Steve’s dick. “You-shut-up.”

Steve leans in, grinning. “What was that?” “Why are you - nghh - being so difficult? Just do it already!”

“No. I said-”

“Not that…” Billy’s voice grows quieter. “The other thing.”

“Why did you even come up with this stupid ass idea in the first place?”

“Just kiss me like you said you would-” “Not until you answer my question.”

“Didn’t think you wanted… people to know you were with a boy. With me.”

“You mean people at school? The kids?”

Billy stops wriggling around under him.

Bullseye.

“S stupid, I shouldn’t care what anyone, least of all Maxine’s stupid brat pack thinks of me.”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t care about what they think, not of you. I don’t need their approval. You’re my boyfriend.”

“Kiss me,” Billy demands. “Kiss me right fucking now.”

[palestudentcrown]

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They have an outgoing and sometimes mischievous temperament. Early socialization and training will make for a well-rounded addition to your family. But be careful to not spoil them an excessive quantity of as this can encourage them to kind bad behaviors. Teacup Yorkies are identified for his or her playful, lively, and affectionate nature.

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It is necessary to know that as a canine owner you would possibly be responsible for the care and wellbeing of your pet. Yorkshire Terrier colours change with age, and different variations also exist. All standard Yorkie puppies are born black, with the blue and tan coat developing gradually, normally after they're a year old. The Yorkshire Terrier is a small, toy-sized canine with a well-proportioned physique. Yorkies have a small head that's flat on the top, with a medium-sized muzzle and small, erect, and V-shaped ears.

[mishapocalyse]

Silent Skies

Chapter 01-“Roads Not Yet Traveled” Pairings: Soldier Boy (Ben Gilman) x Deaf! Original Character Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, drug use, sexual themes, language, gore, blood, sexual assault, attempted r*ape, suicide, mentions of suicide, self harm, mentions of mental illness—that may be within this fanfiction may be triggering for some.

Do not repost, copy, paste this work or claim this as your own. Reblog instead!

Read at your own risk, enjoy.

Note: Some scenes may be out of canon, and character.

An AU where Soldier Boy gets a second chance to walk free. After his first time out of the box, William Butcher goes back on his word and the Boys put him back into the box.

Seven years later Lightening Bolt, a former member of Payback has him resurface to finish what Butcher couldn’t, however Soldier Boy had to learn how to handle himself in the new world a second time.

Lynyx Foster—was too kind and innocent for the everything’s happening around her. All she wanted was to be happy. Her world is initially turned upside down when she meets a man frozen in time with bad intentions written across his face.

She tried her best to communicate.

He believed she was mocking him.

Dust.

All he could taste, was dust in the back of his throat while he managed to drag himself from the rubble that Homelander had tossed him through. Thick, tangled clouds mixed with the smell of iron, which had come from the couple thousands of people that the American clad supe' had managed to incinerate alongside trying to kill him. Soldier Boy clung to the dagger he kept on his belt, his firearm running out of ammo earlier when he had been firing warnings that held no effect to Homelander.

This is fuckin' useless. He thought.

Homelander emerged amidst the blooming chaos as the rest of Soldier Boys fuckwads tore through their own troubles. He noticed Butcher a few feet away from him.

"This is unexpected aye'?" The Brit muttered, almost chuckling.

He ignored the snide comment, returning his gaze to Homelander, who had made his escape as quickly as he could. Soldier boy, turned slowly towards Butcher who had gathered the rest of the boys, all giving him their undivided attention.

They staged a coup.

Those fuckers.

Soldier Boy took a huge step back to find the blonde supe' at his neck, shooting a full blast of energy into his chest which he had tried to block. Mother's Milk and Kimiko, ambushed from the side, while Butcher tried taking him to the ground. With much error, they had succeeded in weighing the large supe', MM pressing the sleeper mask over Soldier's mouth.

"I'm not going back--into that fucking box!" He huffed out, trying to shake the others from him.

He felt himself slipping, eyes beginning to droop, feeling helpless and weak as he dropped like a brick to asphalt.

Soldier Boy did--in fact--go back into that box.

-------------- 7 Years Later--------------

Lynyx Foster had been sitting in the living room of a potential new home while she filled out the rest of the paperwork with her sisters. The two smiling over her, while she provided her signature; Aaron and Grace the payment.

The real estate agent smiled half-hazardously. "Are you sure that this is the place? You know who used to live here, right?"

Aaron laughed while Grace seemingly enough ignore the woman downright. Lynyx was left unbothered, entranced by the minimally furnished space.

"We've already put a huge chunk in for a down payment. Who gives a shit who owned this place. This is a long time gift to our sister, she deserves it." Aaron spouted, her anger rising while her skin grew hotter.

The agent apologized profusely to Aaron, while handing over the title and keys over to her. Plucking them from her fingertips, the woman scurried off, leaving Aaron to happily skip towards her youngest sister, bending down to her level.

'Here you go sis'. Happy Birthday.' Aaron signs.

Lynyx grinned as the keys were dropped into the palms of her hands. Flailing her arms out of excitement she returned the reply.

'I'm happy.'

It took three days to finish unpacking her things into the new house. Nestled deep in the woods, she had never been happier than what she was at this moment. Her sisters closer than ever, a new job given to her, issued by her best friend, Lightening Bolt. He had been in charge of the majority of departments that dealt with superabled beings that were injected with Temp V and Compound V. Maybe this job would be beneficial to her as she was trying to finish her degree at the local college. However, Lynyx knew that he’d placed her somewhere with the least amount of work, and more free time to do what she wanted. She also knew that her time as a student would be shortened, hopefully she could work something out.

Thinking about work.

She’d be late if she didn’t leave now.

Lightening Bolt stood close to Grace Mallory and the Boys as the group of them glared directly at Bolt.

Mallory slowly faced Bolt, a frustrated look plastered on her face.

“This Ms. Foster, this is what she’ll be doing-“. He interrupted her.

“Keeping our friend company. Dope right? I’m paying her a shit ton for a useless job. From the way I see it. You guys will just have to be on call in case something goes south. She will be fine, promise Mallory.” Bolt laughed. He wiped a fake tear from his cheek.

“She is the most harmless little thing. Don’t worry.” Yet, Mallory did not believe him for once second. The older woman huffed; while the security door slid open.

Lynyx shuffled through the doorway and into the larger room. The yellowing, concrete walls felt suffocating to her. Ceiling lights made the space more dull, almost a sickeningly dim hue, that yellow. A group of people, a few of them she recognized as her friend Bolt and her sisters. The two girls sharing the same look of disdain for her new line of work. She ran her hands down her dress that was perfect for the autumn weather, decorated with patterns of leaves and the perfect shade of orange and brown. Lynnie fixed a stray curl of hair, pushing it out of her face as she held her attention to the group.

‘Hello. I’m Lynnie. Nice to meet you all.’

Butcher coughed, hiding a laugh as he nudged Hughie. MM, Frenchie and Kimiko were baffled at the small woman before them.

“Is the little cunt deaf?” asks Butcher.

Lightening Bolt gave him the death stare.

“Rethink your fucking statement right now.” He said.

Butcher raised his hands in defeat.

“Aye’ sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. She’s just a bit too sweetsy to be running with Supes’.” Butcher retorts, rubbing his beard.

Bolt rolls his eyes and beckons Lynnie forward, smiling.

‘Let’s get you started?’ He signs to her.

She smiles, replying. ‘I’m excited.’

Lightening Bolt guided her towards the black Cadillac, opening the door for her. She raised a brow, just as confused as everyone else was. He placed a hand on her own, trying his best to comfort her.

“It is going to be fun, I promise.” He smirks; Lynnie frowns, looking away out the window.

The drive down the winding roads were peaceful, only if Lynnie didn’t feel like she was being held hostage by her best friend and his comrades. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Bolt broke the silence between them all.

“You’ll be watching a friend of ours. They’ve been a bit of a hassle lately, but I assure you the company will get them up and listening.” He began.

Lynnie snapped her head to send Bolt a nervous glance. Was he being serious? Was he selling her off? She bounced her leg nervously trying to regain herself when the car halted, the dust clearing. Lightening Bolt and his group stepped out of the vehicle, as Lynnie peeked up to see more people, men—in heavy armor and gear. Loaded to the teeth with AR-15’s and 47’s. She gnawed at her bottom lip; Bolt snapped his fingers, car door open, to get her attention. He held out his hand for her to grab onto as she shimmied out of the car seat, feet planting onto the gravel driveway.

The house in front of her was almost in shambles. She shook as she heaved a short gasp. Her hands wrapped anxiously around Bolt’s arm as she clung to him. He shot a “please don’t be afraid” glance to her. Lynnie did not accept that look at all. Her eyes found the others, all of them holding the same look as her.

Everyone was scared too.

She froze, almost making Lightening Bolt fall face first into the rocks. He swivels around, trying to figure out what was wrong.

‘Tell me what is going on—this is not what I agreed to. Is this safe for me?’ She signed, Bolt bit his tongue.

“Lynnie, look. I may have sort of lied to you. You were my last resort, really you were. But, I don’t have anyone else and you are perfect and smart, especially when it comes to people . Our friend is in dire need of recoupment—because he is way out of his time.” Bolt held tightly to Lynnie’s hands as hers gripped on his arm.

“Can you do this for me, please?” He pleads.

Lynnie gazed upon the house, then back to her best friend. Letting go, she crossed her arms over her chest. Letting out an exasperated sigh she shakes her head, as her arm extends.

Lead the way. It read.

All the thoughts, feelings, and confusion flew out the window when her eyes landed on the man sitting at the table. His head was laid down on his arms, slightly angled away, his eyes glued to the window. Tugging Bolt's themed sweatshirt sleeve, she again stopped in the dreary space meant to represent a living room. Lynnie motioned to everything around her.

'Is this where he lives?' She signs. Bolt nods.

'This is four walls and barely a roof.' Lynnie continued.

Bolt rubbed his face and groaned. He knew that this was exactly what would happen when she came in here.

"Lynnie, where do you propose we take him? Can't take him to the city, he'll be a danger to everyone--including himself. Can't take him to a motel because then we would have to put that on the expense tab--" Lynnie held her hand over Bolt's mouth to stop him from talking.

Frantically she signed out a response.

"No. Absolutely not." Bolt disagreed.

The look in her eyes when she looked at him was heartbreaking. For a man she hasn't even met yet, she sure wanted to make his life better. That was always how it went. Bolt knew the woman in front of him was the same little girl he grew up with. Always sweet, little miss. She cared for others--a little too much, and always would give the shirt of her back if it meant making their day brighter. Now, she was giving him those doe eyes, the ones he could not say no to.

He mumbled a few curses under his breath.

"Go on, get to know him before I change my mind. I'll talk to the others about the placement change." He said reluctantly.

'Thank you.' She signed, her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

Lynnie let go to slowly approach the man sitting at the broken table in what seemed like a half-hazardous kitchen. Again, his eyes glued to the window, staring out at the wooded area that surrounded the house. She took this moment to take in how much bigger he was compared to her. Telling from a distance, he could of been a foot or so taller than her, his large hands holding his shoulder, the definitions of his muscled form piquing her interest. He was much larger, and much, much stronger than her. Lynnie had to be careful of what she would say or do. He could be extremely unstable. Or worse, he could kill her with those hands of his. She wandered over to him, the closer she drew the more nervous she had gotten once more. Making her way around the table, she bends her knees, ensuring that she was at eye level with him.

His iris's were the color of sea glass, the rarest shade of green she had ever seen before. Whether or not the Compound V that ran through his veins was the culprit behind how beautiful his eyes were. Lynnie made an attempt to read him, there was a hint of annoyance in his eyes, and the ever so clenched jaw made it apparent that she was in his way. She smiled, waving to him, as she dusted the dirty floor to make room as she plopped down to sit.

"Who the fuck are you, princess?" He blurted out, raising his head up to sit straight in his chair, arms folded over that same muscled chest. Lynnie remained on the floor, with the same small smile.

'My name is Lynnie.' She began to motion her hands, slowly to make sure he could understand.

Alas, he didn't, sitting there with some offended expression plastered there. Bolt entered the room to intervene.

"Sparky, aren't you a delight to see." The man says, combing his fingers through his beard. Fuck, he needed to shave this shit, his hair needed a proper cut and he was in definite need of a hot shower; some hot food would be a nice addition too. Butcher, Bolt and the boys hadn't been the best company. The man placed his hand back into the crossed position they were before, a heavy sigh following after.

"Fuck you, Soldier Boy." Bolt started, Lynnie's eyes darted back to Soldier Boy's.

"If it were Herogasm, I would have taken you up on that offer. Though, I doubt you'd wake me up again for a quick fuck, gay boy." Soldier Boy joked, chuckling.

"I can still put you back in that fucking box, asshole. For the rest of your miserable, sad life. However, I have orders to give you, with the possibility of you walking free." Lightening Bolt gritted his teeth, the idea Soldier Boy being able to walk around in modern society as a free man was unnerving to him.

Lynnie continued to sit as the two bickered back and forth. She fidgeted once more with the hem of her skirt.

"Who's the girl, Sparky? Is she some cheap whore you hired or--" Soldier Boy did not get to finish his statement before he was falling back in his chair, his back colliding to the ground.

"Don't fucking talk about her like that, sick fuck." Lynnie got up to tug Bolt back, as she firmly shoved him back. Though he barely budged, she was able to quickly get through to him.

Soldier Boy laughed as he got up, brushing himself off. He picked up the broken chair, holding it in his left hand, eyes filled to the brim with a dangerous feel to them. The corners of his mouth twitched up into a heinous smile. He cracked his neck.

"You pack quite a punch nowadays, Sparky. I'll have fun teaching you who's in charge again." He made a quick quip, stepping forward and with one smooth motion, brought the chair up to potentially break even more over Bolt's head.

Lynnie shimmied herself between the two supers, both hands on either of their chests. Patting them repeatedly, Bolt as well as Soldier Boy stared down at her.

Soldier Boy huffs, tossing the chair to the side, Butcher and his men had entered through the back door to make sure everything was all right.

"Seems like princess here saved your ass. I wouldn't want the lil' lady to have to see a fight. You know...it's polite." Soldier Boy gave a toothy grin before tossing his attention to Lynnie. His head snapping down at her.

His eyes, were hungrily searching hers for any sort of weakness, but for Lynnie, she continued to give him a sweet, savory smile. She removed her hand from their chests, bringing both her arms back to sign to him. He ignored her and faced Bolt who still stood only a few feet away again.

"You're going to be put with my friend here so you can learn how to handle yourself in today's world. Seven years ago you may have gotten a nice little dip in the water, got your dick wet a bit. It is a lot crazier now, then what it was seven years ago, dickhead." Bolt stated leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Ah, so shagging me up with a babysitter. How thoughtful. Could not thank you enough--"

"Shut your mouth, prick. You are getting a second chance at life. I'd fucking take this as a reason to do as your told. Starting with listening to my friend here. She is going to be overseeing every single little thing you do, and you are going to listen to her. Okay? Is that easy for you to understand or would you like foe me to dumb it down for you some more?" Bolt had removed himself from his position on the wall to be only inches away from Soldier Boy's face, noses almost touching.

"Yeah, yeah. I get it." Soldier Boy began, his lips quivered.

"Good. I am so happy you understand, asshole." He then gestured to Lynnie who waited patiently.

"This is Lynyx Foster. She is going to make sure you are up to date on how to be a decent human being." Bolt then checked his watch for the time.

"Now that being said, come on, let's get you to where you'll be staying, dickhead." Bold said, eagerly trudging away from Soldier Boy and out the front door.

The Cadillac screeched to a halt at the end of the long winding driveway up the wooded hill, thick with trees and brush. Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes, not trusting anything that was happening. Lynnie had unbuckled her seatbelt, stepping out of the car, grabbing her bag as Bolt did the same. Soldier Boy followed after, curiously looking around. They were the only car at the time, but he could sense Butcher and his friends scattered in the woods watching them. Soldier Boy was not stupid, he knew that there would always be someone watching him. Soldier Boy went back to the two people in front of him. Bolt throwing signs towards the girl as she did the same in return. She threw her arms around Bolt in a tight hug, and he kissed her on the top of the head.

"Be safe, goofball. I'll be back at the end of the week." Bolt says as she nods.

The two watched as the Cadillac pulled away, Lynnie took the chance and made her way to Soldier Boy.

'Let's go.' she signed.

Soldier Boy just stood there, stunned. Lynnie soon rolled her eyes at him, a bit of a giggle escaping her throat as she grabbed his hand, guiding him up the long driveway. She let go once he went with her, the walk silent for a bit before he broke through the silence with a sigh.

'Okay?' She cocked her head and furrowed her brows as she signed her concern.

Soldier Boy gave the same look of confusion as he froze in his tracks. She gave a soft frustrated breath while she drew closer to the man frozen in place. She gazed up at him, while he looked down upon her. The two staring at each other for only a moment.

'Are you okay?' she signed again.

"Fuck me. Quit throwing your gang signs, woman. It was funny back at the safe house, but now it's getting on my fucking nerves." Soldier Boy spat.

Lynnie was taken aback. She shook her head, taking his hands in hers. She guided his hands to cup over her ears, then tow his own, then back to hers. She sucked in a shaky breath and opened her mouth to speak.

"I-- am-- deaf. I have hear-ing aids. I--can hear you. Hard--to--talk. A--S--L." Lynnie murmured, the patchy words that she spoke definitely got across pretty quickly.

Soldier Boy scoffed, a mixture of disappointment, confusion, even a bit of admiration flooded his emotions. He was absolutely flabbergasted at his situation right now. Lynnie took his hand once again and he walked alongside her in silence, reaching her front doorstep.

"Holy fuck. This is your place?" She turned to him and nodded, pulling out her house keys from her back to unlock the door.

Pushing the door open, she beckoned him inside, that little sweet smile never fading.

She sucked in another breath.

"Home."

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Hi!! Feel free to add or change anything!! Can I please request a (John lives au🥺) Tommy Shelby x Mutant!fem!reader (X-Men/Peaky Blinders crossover) where she is a mutant that is a part of the X-Men and She can control the Earth’s 4 elements (fire, ice, wind and earth) and has telekinesis. The X-Men have to travel back in time to various points (in order to stop something bad in the future), each mutant going to a different time (like if Days of Future Past mixed with Endgame), and Y/n goes back to the time to the Peaky Blinder’s time and runs into the Shelbys while she’s trying to stop something happening that will badly effect the future? I can so imagine Thomas, John, Arthur, and Finn trying to bring her in for questioning after finding her snooping, but she kicks their butts because she has world saving to do lol😂😂 After a while spent with the Shelbys/Blinders, she ends up not wanting to go back to her time because She and Tommy fell in love?

I would imagine they would be pretty shocked to find out about mutants and time travel 🧭

Thank you so much for this request! I was unsure about how I would wrangle the two stories together as they are my two favorite fandoms. This was true labour of love. I hope it's what you were looking for. I honestly had to write it in chunks. I could have put together a full novel about the ideas I had.

Hope you enjoy bestie! XO

Summary: Reader is a mutant who has to follow her family back into Erik's past to save the world. She accidently falls back into Birmingham 1920's surrounded by the Peaky Blinders, which happens to be her favorite TV show....

It sounds tacky when I put it like that but I promise it works.

Rated - Teen: Heart break. So much pain, but also so so so much fluff. Mentions of death, grief, major character death of sorts, mentions of violence, mentions of Nazi Germany.

If you don't follow the X-Men it pretty much just reads as a time travel romance fic

Things had gone from bad to very very bad in a short span of time.

Six months ago Magneto went rogue again. Leaving the X-Men to make a more aggressive stance against the new mutant legislations that were coming into action.

That’s the exact moment we went from bad to worse.

The government was ready for the attack and used it as an opportunity to strike against him hard with their new weaponry. They now had these freaky gigantic robots trying to hunt us down. They hadn’t yet found out the location of the school but you and everyone else knew that the days were becoming limited.

Like most of Charles and Erik's fights, everything ended with Erik outside the front door looking defeated. Charles sobered up and they were back to being a power couple ready to save the world.

The two of them had sat down tracing back through time to the exact points in history that lead us all here. You sat in Charles' study looking between him, Erik, and the overwhelming bulletin board. It was covered in pictures, letters, maps, and a lot of rainbow yarn you feared had come from your personal collection.

“That better not be my roll of rainbow yarn.” You said sternly, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

“World is ending bub, keep it focused.” Logan said, looking as unimpressed as you felt.

“Alright. We don't have much time so I appreciate everyone's undivided attention.” Charles said in his most calming teacher voice.

“Here is a list of what's expected of you.” Erik said sternly and you thanked him as he handed you your individual paper. You quickly looked it over and internally started to freak out. It was all about Europe in the late 1930’s…

The meeting went into full swing and it did nothing to make you feel better. They expected the people in this room, your family. To divide and be sent back in time to fix certain events leading to the current weaponry that was about to destroy mutant kind, and potentially the whole world.

You were shaking by the end of it. Everyone cleared out, there was three hours till go time. Erik called you to stay and you watched him motion Charles out of the room.

You looked at him and resisted the urge to throw a temper tantrum. Erik and Charles had become something like parents to you over the many years you’d been here. Erik was someone you were especially close with, and he fucking left. He fucked this all up. Deep down you knew it was for the better that he had forced the government's hand, it gave you time to prepare this seven layer dip of a plan to stop them.

But still he left you here. He might not be your actual father but your heart didn’t know the difference.

He looked at you with eyes that tore into your soul.

“I know I fucked up but please understand, if I thought there was any possible thing I could have done but leave. I would have. I won’t have you, Peter, and Wanda in a camp. I just wont.” His voice was dripping with poorly concealed emotion making his accent thicker. Suddenly you burst, you wished this confrontation didn't happen right before you needed to have your shit together. You went over to him and wrapped your arms around him tightly. You didn't need to say anything because he knew he was forgiven.

“You're going back to Germany, when I was little.” These words hurt him even more and you held him tighter. “It’s not a very happy place. But look at me.” You did as you were told, looking up into his blue eyes. “You come home safe to me.” He said it in German and you couldn't help the tears that started to fall.

“I put everything down on that list. You keep it close.”

“I will.” You responded back in German. Now you knew why you were picked for this. Trying to meddle with Nazi Germany was a task better suited for someone like Logan, who had actually fought there. Not that he would remember it though..

“You're a smart kid, I have no doubts in my mind that you're capable of this” Charles said entering the room, having read your mind. With the current climate you didn't chew him out for it. Erik held you tighter for a moment, then let you go after placing a kiss to your forehead.

They were asking you to be tough and strong yet they were tearing you up with all this affection. Erik cleared his throat and grabbed a thick leather notebook.

“Take this too. Forgive some of the more personal stuff. It was from my life after the war but it has some stuff about what happened during. Thought it better to send you with too much than not enough.” You accepted the book and nodded at him sadly.

“I have to go and apologize to the others now. But I’ll see you again before you go. Let me know if you think of any questions.” He strode out of the room and you silently said a prayer that your family would all make it back safe.

Charles gave you an empathetic stare before giving you a big hug.

“I love you. We love you.” He said softly.

“I love you both too.” You thought to him in your mind.

Then it was time for the action. You had similar, rather tense emotional moments with your adoptive siblings and other members of the team.

Even Wade came over and gave you a big hug.

“You give ol Adolf an extra one between the eyes for me kid.” Somehow his mask winked at you and you gave him a nod and a sad smile.

They had you in a cotton layered outfit that was surprisingly accurate to the time period which was good. The last thing that 1930’s Europe was ready for was you in one of your brothers stolen Led Zeppelin T-shirts and a pair of mom jeans.

You held your leather purse close to your side and mentally ran through everything inside. You weren't allowed to take much outside of the notebook and list from Erik. You realized that in a few short moments you would be in a whole other world, with no money and every single person you knew wouldn't be reachable.

You would be completely alone.

They got you sorted into the machine and you watched as Erik and Charles both watched your body disappear with a pain that only parents could feel when their children were about to go far away for the first time.

Everything went dark. Suddenly you felt like you had a horrible case of the bed spins. You tried to relax but you had to force every breath of air into your lungs.

Then suddenly you were in an old alleyway. Two large brick buildings were on either side of you with people's laundry above your head. Why they had laundry out in this damp weather was beyond you.

Gunshots rang out in front of you and collided with a man standing further down the alleyway.

Oh Fuck

You watched his body crumple, but what could you do? You could see he was dead and you resisted the urge to rush over and help. That would only draw attention to yourself when what you needed to do was keep a low profile.

Two very tired, but well dressed men emerged from the fog and looked at you standing there.

Normally you wouldn't feel afraid but your body felt different, like your powers were still slightly out of reach.

“You didn't see nothin!” One of them exclaimed in a very British accent, while pointing a gun at you. You nodded in agreement, turning on your heel making your way down the alleyway.

“You can't just let her go. Tommy will want to make sure she keeps ‘er fuck’in mouth shut.” The second man said a little bit too loudly. You picked up your pace.

“Tommy isn't going to care about some woman Arthur.”

“What if she’s with ‘em though, she might know something.” The second man only let out a long string of cuss words.

“Eh! Miss. Don’t move.” You stopped because you knew that he had a gun to your back. You turned around slowly.

“By orders of the Peaky Blinders.” The taller one called out. The words cut through you like glass.

Peaky Blinders?! Like the show?! Oh no. no. no. no. This was very bad.

“Shut up Arthur”

They both came towards you leaving the dead man’s body long forgotten. You didn't resist them, mostly because you were in shock. They put you into the back seat of a car and you just looked around you. Birmingham. Blinders.

Damn, props to the casting manager, and to the costume people. Not to mention the prop people. This was like falling into the TV.

You were brought into the betting shop. It was really different from the show, but it still felt the same somehow.

Peaky Fucking Blinders

Speaking of fucking. The rather distressed man in front of you must have been Thomas Shelby.

Your face flushed and you tried to remind yourself that this was real life. Your family was out there doing their part, and somehow you’d fallen into the wrong time…

These people weren’t the ones you watched on TV with your dad, or stayed up reading fanfiction about. These were the real deal.

His eyes settled on you.

“What the fuck is this then?!” He shouted.

“She was in the alleyway with the Russian.”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW?” He screamed at you and you jumped.

“I was just in the wrong place. I swear.” He looked at you with a piercing look, suddenly you really did hope that Cillian Murphy won hundreds of awards for his performance.

“You are lying. And I don't have time for lying.”

“We’ve got to get to the Train.” One of the men said, drawing his gaze away from you.

“Go, I’ll take her with me.”

You were pushed into another car, this time with Thomas driving.

“Look I know you know something I can feel it. Just tell me and I won't kill you.”

“I swear if I knew something I would tell you” You answered calmly.

“FUCK” He was driving recklessly and only started to push the car faster.

He got out and dragged you into a field where men had a tent and some kind of mining operation happening.

“Tommy there’s no way we are going to get through this quickly.”

“I need everything out by sunrise. They have Charlie.” The two men looked at each other and you assumed that Charlie must be very important to them.

“Don't let her out of your sight.” He motioned towards you before starting to strip down.

“What do you need to get out? I might be able to help.” You mentally kicked yourself, this was so Charles of you. Now was not the time nor the era to be using your mutant powers to help gangsters.

“How on earth are you going to help?” Suddenly you realized that you were by far the most powerful person in the setting. And probably the whole city. The shock was finally gone and you could feel the elements around you humming like you usually could.

“I can get you whatever you're digging for in less than five minutes, in exchange for information.”

The man he was talking to let out a laugh. But Tommy only stared at you with those perceptive eyes.

“Jewels, they are ten yards in that direction in an underground cellar.” As he spoke you could feel them vibrating exactly where he said they would be.

“Why am I doing this?” You asked him seriously. You didn't have time to play heist with them no matter how many hours you spent reading about it.

“Because they have my son” He looked desperate and it twisted up your heart.

“Take everyone out of the tunnel and have them turn away from me.” You instructed him and he gave the order. The men were looking at the two of you like he’d finally snapped. But they did as they were told.

You pushed your mind through the earth till you could feel the jewels. You moved the earth aside, extending the tunnel in one swift movement, then pulled the jewels through. Your feet met the ground again and you realised he didn't turn around. He stood there eyes wide with a stone-like expression.

The guy just watched you levitate and saw your eyes glow brown and bright white. But still he just looked at you like he always knew you’d been a part of this world.

You used your powers to place all the loot into the bag in his hand.

“Thank you.” You could see in his eyes that he meant it.

“What year is it?”

“1928”

“Fuck!” You were going to be stuck here for at least ten plus years. Panic washed over you.

“Help me get my son?”

“Sure” you answered realising you had all the time in the fucking world to chase Tommy around.

In the span of a few short hours you’d rescheduled someone’s abortion, helped the father of that baby kill his molester, rescued what might be the cutest baby ever if not for the horrible hair cut, and stopped some kind of train from exploding.

For some reason this made some Russians very mad. So you’d handled that too.

Now you were sitting in Thomas Shelby’s kitchen with a glass of whiskey in your hand as he held his sleeping child in his arms.

“What are you?”

“Pretty sure I just did all the heavy lifting so I could ask the big questions” You didn't mean to be that sassy with him, the man looked like absolute shit, but the smallest smile crept onto his face. That stupid smile pushed that soft spot in your heart a little. You let out a long sigh.

“I am a mutant from the future. I can control the elements earth, water, fire, air, and I can move objects with my mind.” You added more whiskey to the glasses with your mind, watching him struggle to contain his expression. “I have to stop something horrible from happening in Nazi Germany.”

“Nazi’s?” He rolled the word around in his mouth. “I don't know much about mutants.”

“I didn't think you would.” You said with a small smile.

“And you know me well then?” He asked with a raised brow.

“In some ways I feel like I do, but deep down I know that I really don’t” He studied you for a moment and you saw the many questions burning in his eyes.

“How about this. You help me with the Nazi’s when the time comes, and I’ll help you as much as I can until then” He thought about it, eyes making your skin burn.

“But I’m not in control of when they pull me back so I could just disappear at any moment.”

“Deal.” He took a sip of whiskey.

“You must be tired, but I’m also happy to answer questions if you have any.” Really you just didn't want this to end. Any second Hank could realise his mistake, you hated yourself for it, but you wanted this to last for a bit.

You expected him to be tired, and worn out after everything. Instead he asked you questions about your abilities, the future. All the stuff you’d expect. He said his mother had told him about people like you when he was small, that’s why he didn't doubt you.

You told him that he was remembered in the future very well. A blush crept onto your face, embarrassed and slightly guilty about all the thoughts you’d had about him. Well fictional him anyway.

This only pushed him to want to know about it. So you told him that there was a television show about his family that you were very fond of. You gave a brief description of film and television.

“And you like me in that show?” He asked.

“Ah, yeah. You could say that.” But the burn on your cheeks gave you away.

“Hmm and the man that acts out my character, he’s alright?”

“Oh yeah. He does a good job.” You could feel the amusement rolling off of him.

________

Weeks passed and Tommy adjusted to having you live with him. These were hard weeks for you as you were worried sick about being stuck here while your family was across time and space potentially being murdered or imprisoned.

It was the kind of stress that led to a lot of nightmares. Nightmares that had the potential to shake the whole house…

After the first two times of him tearing into your room waking you up and holding your shaking body tightly, he recommended you just sleep next to him.

One tremor he could blame on an earthquake, two tremors - well stranger things had happened, but the superstitious maids were starting to get uneasy. Three tremors and he was sure they would assume the place was haunted by his late wife.

You took him up on his offer feeling very embarrassed every single piece of “there was only one bed” fanfiction you’d read flashed before your eyes as you laid there next to him.

Strangely enough you both slept better like that. Till one morning you woke up tangled in his sleeping body. That was an incident that led to a lot of kissing. Then courting. Then a full blown affair.

He often asked you about the various stories you’d read and written about him. Laughing at how sappy you made him, teasing you about it relentlessly.

_________________

Family was an interesting aspect of your time here. You missed yours so badly that you tried to insert yourself into his every moment you could.

You laughed and learned a lot from the women you became so close with.

When you looked back on it you’d like to think that you helped them all get along better just as much as they helped you grow up. Little Fin and Charlie looked up to you as some sort of God. Too wise to be an older sibling, and not strict enough to be a mother. It broke your heart knowing that eventually you’d leave them potentially without even getting the chance to say goodbye.

This prompted you to write out a notebook much like your fathers. Something to leave them with. Nothing about the future, but just love for them. Stuff they could read when they were in need of comfort. From what you knew of the up and coming war they would need it. You had birthday cards written out for the children till each of them turned 60.

_________

A year had passed and while you missed your family dearly. You had lots of daily tasks to keep up on providing for your family here. Between the family and Tommy you rarely stood still long enough to be sad.

Tommy proposed to you in the woods behind the house. You knew a public wedding and engagement wasn't possible with your potential to leave at any moment.

After trying to convince him otherwise you agreed.

A secret wedding was held in the fall with only your closest family.

_______________________

Ten years passed and you helped Tommy try to take out the British Nazi Party while also getting ready to travel to Germany.

The clock was ticking on your life here and the time had come to put the future world above what your heart wanted.

Tommy could feel it coming and took every possible moment he could spare to be around you. Both of you desperately clinging to what pieces of happiness you could hold onto before it was all ripped away.

You warned him about the stalk market crashes and about every part of the up and coming war and future that might impact the family.

_______________________

Then it was go time. The family sent you off with heavy hearts, only Polly and Tommy understood the task that lay heavily on your shoulders.

Tommy insisted on accompanying you as far as possible. You already knew that he fully intended on staying with you the whole time. You could always tell when he was lying.

You left him sleeping in a hotel just before you’d reached Germany. The morning light sprawled across his tattooed skin. You looked at the arms that carried you from being a child into becoming a woman. The hands that helped shape you and showed you how to overcome your worst fears. You’d stolen 12 years of this man's life, 12 years he should have been settling down with a wife and a mother for his child.

12 years of laughing all night, dancing in the kitchen, yelling with his family, night walks in the woods, more sex than you thought humanly possible, murder, money, gabling, horse races, drinking, and cocaine. All of it was about to be ripped away.

You shut the door leaving him a letter saying goodbye. Explaining everything, and how you were leaving him there to protect him. You told him where to find the many journals you’d written and the letters for his family.

Then you were off to find Shaw.

___________________________

It was a horrible task, you watched Erik’s mother, someone he said watched over you with the tender gaze only a grandmother could manage, die. Your heart broke there and you hoped that Erik was right, that she did watch over you and your siblings, that she understood why you let her body crumple to the ground.

You couldn't kill Shaw, or Hitler. Something that would weigh on your consciousness for the rest of your life. All the power to stop some of the most horrible things in history, and you had to walk away.

That didn't mean you couldn't raise hell though. You did what you were instructed to, passed the appropriate information on to the right people.

Freed as many Jews as you possibly could on the side…..

But no one needed to know about that.

You eventually rescued Erik, and saw the full extent of how Shaw had mutilated him. You comforted him and gave him the instructions he would need.

Despite him being a boy, and receiving an impossible amount of information about his future he still grabbed your arm before you left him there.

“Are you my daughter?” He looked so hopeful. The promise of a child meant the promise of a home, and true love.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that his wife and first daughter would be murdered in front of him. Or that I would fall into his lap as an orphan desperately in need of a father, that his two biological children would be kept from him till they were in their early twenties. The amount of collateral damage and problem fixing he had ahead of him. Not to mention his on and off again relationship that had caused the world to end more times that any other threat to the planet. A part of you wanted to. but Future Erik made you swear you wouldn't.

“You are a good father. Just keep your head up.” You kissed his forehead like he had done countless times to you. And left the freshly mangled boy in a hotel bed in a foreign country just like you’d left your husband a few short weeks ago.

__________

The task was filled but you didn't instantly fly back to the present day. So you got on a train back to Birmingham to spend whatever last sliver of time you had left next to your husband. After all the horrible things you had seen, the only thing you wanted, the only thing that could put you back together, was your husband's arms. You desperately wanted to fall apart, but you kept it together out of hope.

You wanted one last kiss.

You stepped off the train platform in Birmingham. One body amongst the busy sea of people, you looked at the train platform and it was the last thing you saw of your life there.

________

Horrible bed spins, and suddenly you were back in the basement of the mansion. Everyone was present, looking just the same as it had been 12 fucking years ago.

You immediately fell to your knees. Your body twisted in at the harsh realization that it was finally all over. A sob ripped through your chest as you crumpled to the floor. Erik’s hands reached you first as your family frantically tried to figure out if you’d been injured.

You wanted to tell them that it was only your heart being broken. That your mind was slowly fracturing into a million unrepairable pieces. A valuable part of you was left in Birmingham and your body didn't know how to breathe or pump blood without it.

You prayed for death. You realised that the words tumbled out of your mouth between sobs. Begging them to let it kill you. That you didn't want to live in a world without him.

____________

Time passed and it didn't kill you. Eventually you came to terms with the fact that if you died, they would only kick your ass right back into existence. The Shelby family fought as hard as your family did to live in a world of opportunity like this and to give it up would be a disgrace on their names.

So you lived on. Charles, Erik, Peter, Wanda, and the whole team did everything they could to comfort you through the loss. Everyone else was sent back for about two days, so they stayed relatively the same.

You watched as your parents mourned the loss of their bubbly ambitious 20 year old, as she was now filled with a 32 year old depressed widow.

Suddenly you understood the pain that constantly ran through Erik’s veins. Logan’s constant night terrors searching for a red headed woman hit too close to home. Watching Wade’s fists clench every time someone with long black hair walked by. It all made too much sense. The new awareness of grief had exposed you to how the people around you truly lived their lives.

Charles had bought Arrow House for you, hoping it would ease the pain. Something physical from that time to hold on to. The place was going to be demolished, and you were very grateful he had thought to look for it before it was lost like everything else.

Eventually you had to visit his grave.

Erik stood by the gates of the cemetery while you walked along trying to find him. It was a crisp autumn day much like the day you married him. And there he was, black marble with gold lettering.

What was left of the man that used to hold you every night lay six feet below you.

His tombstone was brief, and classy much like himself. But in small letters at the bottom you saw the song lyrics of your favorite song engraved. Song lyrics you left in the journal you’d stashed for him.

He found it.

And buried next to him was his wife. You thought you would feel jealous, but relief washed through you. He was looked after, Charlie had a mum. His life ran its course with someone next to him in his bed every night.

He moved on so you could too.

[weelittleweasley]

a day in the snow (h.p.)

prompt as requested by anon: after being friends for two years, you had been toying with the idea of how and if you should tell harry that you have feelings for him. but will the fear of rejection hold you back?

pairing: harry potter x fem! reader

warnings: food

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: this could be read as a sequel to may i sit?, but you don’t have to read it to understand this fic! happy reading! oh! and requests are still open ;)

Soft, powdery white snow covered the Scottish hills that rolled in the distance. The green grass now hidden beneath blankets and blankets of freshly fallen snow. Untouched snow was soon replaced with trails of snow shoe footprints and laughter of students as they weaved their way to Hogsmeade. It was a perfect winter’s day. Cold enough to keep the snow from melting and make you shiver if you wore the wrong jacket, but not cold enough from keeping you from dragging Harry through the snow to the town.

Harry would have much rather stayed inside and kept warm in the comfort of the common room with the roaring fire in front of him, blanket over his lap as he enjoyed the chatter of his closest friends. You, on the other hand, lived for days like today. You insisted it would be an adventure; out in the snow, romping around, enjoying each other’s company. Although Harry insisted you had gone to Hogsmeade so many times in the past, you had practically begged him to go today. You needed some excitement rather than being cooped up in the castle all weekend long. With a groan and exaggerated roll of his head, Harry finally gave into your pleas. He couldn’t resist you for longer than five minutes of constant begging. 

Linking your arm in his, the two of you trudged through the snow, you laughing as Harry bemoaned about snow getting into his boots. “Don’t be such a party pooper, Potter,” you tease him as he rolls his eyes. “We’ll make a day of it. We can get Butterbeer at Three Broomsticks, shop around at Honeydukes, maybe venture into Zonko’s,” you list off excitedly. It would be a pricey expenditure, but you had just received your monthly allowance from your parents and you were certainly planning on spending a chunk of it today. 

“Or we could head back to the castle, get a blanket, sit by the fire in the common room, sneak into the kitchens. You know the house elves love me,” he smiled as you scoffed at him. “We’ve been to Hogsmeade hundreds of times, why can’t we enjoy a day inside the castle?” he implores you as a bright smile appears on your face as the village comes into your view.

You drop Harry’s arm and make a mad dash for the village, giggling wildly. You turn to face him, walking backwards now, “We are in that castle every day, Harry. I need a change of scenery once in a while and what better place to do so,” you speak merrily. Pure joy was laced in your voice as Harry sighed and shook his head with a smile. He couldn’t deny the look of childish glee on your face as you stood there, waiting for him to catch up to you, clapping your hands like a toddler on Christmas morning. “Now come on, let me treat you to a Butterbeer,” you extend your hand out to him as he gladly accepts it, swinging your arms back and forth.

The gesture was simple, something you and Harry always did. But you couldn’t deny that every time Harry held your hand, flashed you a toothy grin, cracked a joke and looked your way to see if he had made you laugh, it always made your heart flutter and mind races with a thousand and one thoughts. Harry had been your mate, a close one, for almost two years now. After the night you two had formally met, you were inseparable. You spent nights in the library studying (mostly fooling around and pissing others off), running through the corridors playing elaborate games of hide-and-seek, exchanging small glances during class. Together, you and Harry just made sense. The two of you got along like you had known each other your whole lives and yet, nothing more evolved from your friendship. You had managed to convince yourself that a friendship was all you signed up for and all you wanted from Harry which was a total lie. Harry made you feel like you were the only person who mattered; like when he was with you, you had his full and undivided attention. Harry made you feel safe. 

But you ignore the butterflies that danced around in your gut as you walked towards Three Broomsticks, Harry opening the door for you as you slid in carefully. “Go on and find us a seat, I’ll grab us drinks,” you instruct him as he smiles and nods.

You approach the bar and see Madam Rosmerta, drying some mugs. She catches your eye as she flashes you a brilliant smile, “Back again, Miss (Y/L/N),” she beams as you nod. “What can I get for you, my darling?”

“Two Butterbeers please,” you request, leaning against the bar, removing the woolen gloves from your chilled hands. The Three Broomsticks was warm, in temperature and the environment. The pub was bustling in customers, varying in age, old and young. Some Hogwarts students were tucked away in booths as you surveyed the area, some on what looked like dates, others messing around with friends. 

Madam Rosmerta gives you a look, raising one brow suggestively. “Two?” she asks as you nod. “You fancied your way into a date now? Who with?” she implores. But before you can protest that you were just in for a quick drink with a friend, her eyes land on Harry who waits patiently at a table. Madam Rosmerta dramatically gasps, “With the Chosen One?” she gawks. “Nicely done, my darling. Way to go!” she hits your arm encouragingly. 

You shake your head feverishly, “No, no, Harry and I are just mates. We’ve always been mates and always will be.” When the words tumble from your mouth, your stomach feels sour. Always been mates and always will be. Nothing more and nothing less for you and Harry. Stuck in the friend zone. Madam Rosmerta gives you a look to tell you that she’s not buying it. You insist, “Really. Harry is a good friend. We’re just spending the day together as mates.”

She smiles at you as she pours you up two brimming mugs of Butterbeer, the copper mugs foaming wildly with the delicious beverage. “That’s how it always starts,” she teases as you play with the hem of your lavender jumper. “Just mates usually means something more is on the way,” she winks as you lightly laugh. Reaching into your pocket, you look for a few sickles to give in exchange for your drinks, but Madam Rosmerta stops you. “These are on the house,” she insists. “A toast to best mates,” she winks.

“Thank you,” you blush before you part from the bar, walking over to the table with your drinks. “For you,” you slide the mug over to Harry who thanks you before you sit down and take a sip from the refreshing beverage. 

Harry takes a glug from his mug before speaking, “Alright. Well, now that you’ve got me here, what’s on the agenda? I want the full (Y/N) (Y/L/N) experience.” 

You smile at your best friend and shake your head. Harry could be a pisser, but he sure knew how to make you smile. As you ran off everything you wanted to do for the day, you became very aware of Harry’s gaze as he looked at you. His green eyes held so much tenderness, gently resting upon you as you spoke with such glee in your voice. Occasionally, he would permit a small smile to appear on his lips as you would catch him and ask what he was smiling about. He would brush it off and simply say, “Nothing. I find it sweet when you get excited about things.”

In response, you scoffed and rolled your eyes whilst inside your stomach did and flip and your mind screamed about how much you liked him. How you wanted to hold his hand and tell him how much you cared for him. How you wanted kiss his lips and lay your head on his chest, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. But instead, you continued blabbering on about the day ahead of you. 

After finishing at Three Broomsticks, you and Harry walked down High Street and made a stop at Honeydukes. Inside were countless shelves filled with sweets and treats beyond imagination. As soon as you stepped foot inside, you immediately ran to the shelves to pick out your favorite sweets. Harry laughed at your impatience; you couldn’t even wait for him to grab you a basket. “We have to stock up on all the good stuff, Harry,” you say very intently as you grab three parcels of Jelly Slugs. “Godric knows that once Ron sees the stash, he’s bound to consume half of it,” you huff as Harry laughs. You weren’t wrong. 

Harry watches as you select a few Chocolate Frogs, Chocolate Wands, and Cockroach Clusters from the shelves. “Easy does it, you don’t want to spend all of your money in one place,” he warns.

You flash him a look. “Geez, you sound like Granger,” you laugh as he rolls his eyes. “Last time I checked if Harry saw me buying this many sweets, he’d be encouraging me to buy more,” you tease as he rolls his eyes. “Come on, what do you want? My treat.”

Harry looks at you and shakes his head. “(Y/N), no. You already treated for Butterbeer, I’m not letting you buying me sweets too,” he tells you as you shake your head.

“Madam Rosmerta covered the cost of the Butterbeers, so that doesn’t count,” you reveal to him as he gives you a confused look. But before he can question why she would cover the cost, you speak up, “Come on, Harry, if you don’t chose, I’ll chose for you.” You nudge his arm as he sighs giving in as you smile widely. 

You knew Harry didn’t want you wasting your money on him, but you hardly considered it a waste. You wanted him to enjoy himself too, especially since he didn’t want to leave the castle and you practically forced him out. This was just a small way to express your gratitude.

Now, your shopping basket was full of sweets and was considerably heavy. But it was no problem. You swiftly paid the cashier and carried out a large bag of sweets out of the shoppe as Harry laughed as you struggled to carry it. “Give it here,” he laughs as he takes the bag from your hands, easily carrying it in just one of his. “Light as a feather.”

“Oh, shut it, Harry,” you laugh alongside him as you trudge through the snow, enjoying how lively the town was today. People made chatter, buying things from the shoppes, children playing in the snow, indulging in sweets. The scene made your heart swell. You loved how alive and well the town seemed. As you looked around, you felt Harry’s gaze on you again as you caught his eye. “Why’re you staring at me?” you laugh as Harry blushes.

“I can’t look at my best friend?” he defends himself. “Rather me close my eyes and walk around blindly?” he teases as he screw his eyes shut, pretending to feel around for directions. “Someone help. My best friend is mad that I dare look at her so now I’m forced to walk around like this!” he jokes as you roll your eyes.

But before you can say anything, you hear someone call out for Harry’s name. You both turn around and see Ron jogging over to you both as Harry looks at you. “Go,” you smile at him. “No need to ask me for permission.”

Harry smiles as Ron runs over to him, the two of them immediately babbling about something that Ron found in Zonko’s. Behind Ron is Hermione who walks over to you with a small smile. “Enjoying yourself?” you wiggle your eyebrows at Hermione.

She rolls her eyes, “Ron and I were in Zonko’s for nearly three hours.” You laugh at her complaint. She sighs, “But it made him happy. So in a weird way, I guess it was worth it.” You poke at her sides, teasing her for her innocent crush on her best friend. “Oh, stop, you’re one to talk! Harry told us he wasn’t feeling well today and he wasn’t going to come out with us,” Hermione reveals.

You stop poking at Hermione’s words as they fall from her lips. You twist your face with confusion. “What do you mean he didn’t feel well?” you ask as Hermione restates what she had previously revealed. Did Harry lie to his two best friends, so he could spend the day with you? You shake your head, “No, Harry told me he wanted to stay in the castle today. He didn’t want to go out today all together,” you justify.

Hermione gives you a knowing look. “Sure, he could have told you that, but you know Harry likes to give people a hard time. He would have gone with you whether you begged or not,” she smiles. “Even if you didn’t go to Hogsmeade, you would have stayed at the castle with him, wouldn’t you?” she asks, already knowing the answer to the question when a rosy hue appears on your cheeks. “(Y/N), drop the charade. You both have been infatuated with the other since you met each other,” Hermione places a hand on your arm, rubbing it. “Everyone sees the glances you two steal, the way you laugh at his jokes, the way he literally drops everything to be next to you...don’t wait any longer.”

If this all was true, then maybe it really did mean Harry had deeper feelings for you. But the possibility that people were reading into it and Harry saw you as just a close friend loomed over your head like a dark rain cloud. The fear of Harry looking into your eyes and telling you that this relationship of yours was merely platonic would break your heart. You would rather keep your secret just that, a secret. That way you could prevent yourself from being hurt. But then there was the risk of keeping this secret hidden deeply and hurting yourself by watching him live life with another girl, someone who wasn’t you. And that was what made your stomach churn. 

Before you can ask Hermione advice, Harry speaks up, “(Y/N), you ready?” You look at Hermione who gives you a reassuring squeeze and wink as you sigh. Turning to Harry, you nod. 

“We’ll catch up later,” you tell Hermione who gives you a curt nod. You walk over to Harry who extends a hand out to you to walk back into the castle. You accept it, letting your hands swing back and forth, letting the negative thoughts in your mind float away as you enjoy the feeling of his gloved hand holding yours. 

Harry gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he notices you ruminating in thought, nibbling on your bottom lip. He knew your nervous habits like the back of his hand and he monitored them carefully. “What’s bothering you?” he asks quite simply. You look at him, puzzled. “Your biting your bottom lip. You always do that when you’re overthinking something,” he tells you as you sigh defeated. He knew you too well and that was the problem. “You know you can tell me, (Y/N). We’re best friends.”

Best friends. That’s exactly what you were. “Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Anything,” he smiles as he continues to swing your hand back and forth.

But you stop walking and drop his hand, tucking both your hands into your jacket pockets. Harry watches as you do so, gulping, nervous as to what you had to say. “Did you...did you tell Hermione and Ron that you didn’t want to go to Hogsmeade with them today because you weren’t feeling well?” you ask.

Harry looks at you blankly before inhaling deeply. “I did, yes.”

You, even more confused, now try to clarify. “But you came out to Hogsmeade with me instead? You told me you wanted to stay in the castle, so why didn’t you? If you weren’t feeling well, you should have told me that and I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me,” you tell Harry who just stands there. “Harry, you know you don’t have to follow me around. I could have gone with someone else today.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not the point, (Y/N). That’s not why I came with you.”

“Then why did you come with me?” you ask, genuinely needing to know the answer. Harry remains silent for a moment as you groan. “Harry, I need you to be honest with me. You tell some of your friends one thing and then you tell me another. I’m just confused and I need at least a little clarity as to what is going on inside that head of yours,” you exclaim.

Harry stands there silent again as you look at him, with an exhausted expression on your face. Was it really that hard to tell you the truth? You shake your head and start walking away from Harry, whispering under your breath, “This is ridiculous.”

Before you can take another step away from him, Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back to him, spinning you around to face him. He wastes no time, cupping your cold cheeks in his hands and pulling you into him, connecting his lips with yours. You are taken aback by the sudden move, but you instantly melt into his touch, kissing him back. His lips are cold from the weather, but the kiss is warm and sweet and genuine. The kiss is revitalizing; it makes your heart speed up and makes you pull him closer to you, wanting more and more and more until you can’t take anymore. Harry only kisses you harder as you relax into the kiss. As you kiss, you can feel snowflakes fall upon your cheeks and eyelashes. The scene was picturesque. Two friends now kissing in the middle of the snowy pathway as freshly fallen snow surrounds them like halos. 

Gently, Harry pulls away and rubs your cheeks with his thumbs as you keep your eyes closed, savoring the sensation of his cool lips on yours. “Does that clarify things?” he asks as you lightly smile, fluttering your eyes open, looking into his green ones. “I always want to be with you, (Y/N). I lied to Ron and Hermione because I wanted to be with you. I will take every opportunity to be with you because I’m absolutely head over heels for you.”

His words make your heart flutter. It was everything you have ever wanted to hear and you can’t help but smile like a goofball at his words. “You are?” you say in disbelief, breathlessly as you hold onto his arms tightly, not ever wanting to let go. 

“Head over heels,” he repeats. “And I’m willing to do anything to prove it to you.”

You smile widely before pressing your forehead against his. “There’s no need. Because I’m head over heels for you, Harry,” you confess as Harry smiled brightly at your confession before kissing the tip of your nose gently. “Quite the pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into, huh, Potter?” you tease him.

Harry shakes his head, “One I don’t plan on getting out of any time soon,” he tells you before kissing you again sweetly as the snow showers over the both of you.

[ot7always]

My Fair Lady

Word Count: 8.1k

Pairing: Crown Prince!Taehyung x Captain of the Guard!Reader

Genre: Historical/Fantasy AU, fluff, smut, angst

Warnings: Sparring (swordfight/fistfight), I’ve literally never fenced in my life I’m sorry for any errors, pining, mentions of battle scars, angst angst angst, angsty sex, crying during sex (and not in a sexy way), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, it’s super angsty but I promise it’ll be okay

Rating: 18+

Summary: His brother unable to spar with him that day, Crown Prince Taehyung comes to you in need of a partner. 

A/N: This fic was such a wild ride of a writing experience, and I literally lost chunks of writing because of my laptop crashing multiple times. But this fic is my baby, please let me know what you think!

Huge thanks to @wwilloww​​ for beta reading for me, and also @peekaboongi​​ for crying with me as I wrote.

Tagging @moonmintrails​​ @ppersonna​​ @irissilujm​​ @dee-ehn​​

Masterlist

--

You gaze swept across the palace training grounds, hands clasped firmly behind your back. You watched as your soldiers trained, whether it be alone or with each other, and kept an eye out for any glaring errors – incorrect form, weak footwork, and the like.

As the youngest Captain of the Guard in history, it was your duty to ensure each of your soldiers, men and women alike, were in prime condition. Though the position was not passed through bloodlines, you had taken over from your father following his retirement from duty. He was a very well-respected man, and you were determined not to disappoint him. You would continue to prove time and time again that you deserved the honour of your place.

You kept your eyes forward even as you sensed a tall presence settle beside you, taking on a similar stance to your own.

“My Lady,” a deep voice greeted. Your nose crinkled at the title. While it was true your family was of noble station, you much preferred to be addressed as “Captain.” You sought to distance yourself from your cousins who enjoyed hosting fancy balls and tittering about the latest messenger visiting from overseas.

You gave the man beside you a brief once-over, eyes quickly returning to your soldiers in the field. The Crown Prince was looking particularly fresh today, white cotton shirt laced neatly and tucked into black pants that moulded to him like water. His dark curls appeared freshly washed, small tendrils swaying in the wind, having escaped the small tie at the nape of his neck. He smelled suspiciously of lavender. Perhaps he had been delving into his sister’s perfumes once again.

“Your Highness,” you nodded curtly, ignoring the pang in your chest at his appearance. While you tried to put up a good front, you were not immune to the Prince’s charms.

“You know I don’t like when you call me that,” he smiled bashfully at his feet before turning the entirety of his attention to you. “I am in need of a favour,” he continued, gaze imploring.

“What can I do for you, Your Highness?” you responded, suppressing a smirk when you heard him sigh at your words. Having grown up around him, even sharing lessons and training together before you surpassed his abilities, you would consider the two of you friends – more, even. However, you had an image to keep up, barriers that needed to be kept in place lest anyone question your ability to prioritize the royal family’s safety without distraction.

“I require a sparring partner.”

“Do you forget yourself, Your Highness?” you grinned at the notion. Not many dared to challenge you to a fight, and the last time Taehyung matched you in skill he was perhaps a foot or two shorter.

“I beg of you, Captain. My brother is feeling out of sorts and I am in need of a distraction. I have been meeting with courtiers all morning and I cannot begin to express how tiring-”

“He’s taken ill?” you cut in, eyes wide and tone laced with concern as you finally turned to give the Prince your undivided attention. His younger brother was only 15, and you had developed a soft spot for the boy over the years. The plague which tended to come and go from your Kingdom was no joke. While many recovered, many more slowly but surely lost their lives.

“Don’t worry yourself too much, My Lady. Our doctors have assured us it is simply a minor ailment.” His heart warmed at your obvious affection for his brother, knowing how much you cherished his younger siblings. He wondered whether he himself held a similar place in your heart. “Let’s not concentrate on that which will resolve itself quickly in time. Rather, I am still in dire need of a partner. Please?” he appeased, giving you his best impression of a pout. You tried not to crack a smile at the resemblance to his sister.

Your hesitation did not last long – you found it difficult to deny Taehyung anything, not that he asked much of you very often. “Very well, then. Though, we are not exactly dressed for the occasion, are we?” you chuckled, meeting his eyes. It was true. Having only recently left a meeting with those who would accompany Their Majesties to town the next day, you were dressed in a white blouse, dark leather bodice laced on top. While your leather boots allowed for sufficient footwork, the suppressed movement of your torso was not exactly ideal for a fight.

“We both know that you are more than capable of fighting in such attire. Come,” he said, giving you no time to refuse before you were led to the central combat ring. The ring was often used to host friendly tournaments and was clearly visible from any spot in the field.

“Are you so keen to showcase your defeat to my entire squadron?” you teased, shooting the Prince a grin as you caught the foil he tossed to you. Light, thin, and dull, it ensured you did not cause any serious injury lest you accidentally hit him. Cotton, after all, was not the most ideal material to prevent bruising. As for you? Well, you didn’t plan on getting hit anyway.

You took up your position opposite him, bent slightly at the knee, sword in hand, opposing hand clenched comfortably behind your back. You watched as Taehyung settled into the same posture. You clicked your tongue in disapproval upon seeing his form. Shoulders tense already, you sighed. Well, you would just have to see if he fixed his error later on.

“Ready when you are, Sweet Prince,” you smirked, exhaling a laugh as his face flushed. It was a nickname given to him by the men and women he’d seduced and bedded over the years. Even if he’d invited them into his bed only once and never again, they never stopped singing his praises. A part of you was desperate to know what he did to impress them.

“I don’t have all day, Your Highness,” you called out, smile slowly lighting up your face at his embarrassment. A lie, of course. If he asked you to stand there and wait for hours while you simply stared at each other you would do it. You liked to tell yourself it was because of your royal duty, but in reality you had never been able to say no to him, even in your childhood. There was something so charming yet shy, so mature yet naïve about him, that had you wishing for his happiness at every moment. He was a walking contradiction you wanted nothing more than to solve.

Having collected himself, Taehyung launched himself at you quickly, sword flying its way toward your shoulder – easily parried. You figured the two of you would ease into a proper match. After all, neither of you were properly warmed up, and you refused to listen to the Prince’s complaining of sore muscles if you could avoid it.

You remained light on your feet, focusing solely on defending against his basic lunges rather than attempting to retaliate. That would come in time. It wouldn’t be so enjoyable if you didn’t toy with him just a little, right?

After several minutes of rather simple steps, you figured you were ready to break a sweat. The next time his blade swung at you, you batted it aside and thrust your own at his chest, tip poking into his shirt before he could even blink.

“Come now, Your Highness. Shall we see what my father taught you?” you taunted, backing away to your original position. Your heart warmed when you saw the fire light in his eyes at the challenge, his playful expression temporarily replaced by sheer focus. You couldn’t conclude which was more handsome.

The next time he flew at you, it was with newfound ardour, the clink of metal on metal a familiar symphony to your ears. The Prince was skilled, you would give him that. Not that you were surprised – you recalled a time in his youth when he dedicated himself fully to training in this exact spot.

You gave yourself fully to your reflexes, blade swinging left, right, and circling round as you blocked his attacks. Quickly side-stepping a stab toward your neck, you grinned. Despite your original hesitance, you were enjoying yourself. Seeing the sweat form on Taehyung’s brow from his effort, you were happy to see him dedicate himself to something so completely. His technique focused on agility over power, something well-suited to his long limbs and lean muscle. You were the same – fight smart, not hard, your father used to tell you.

Backing away suddenly, Taehyung pouted slightly as he caught his breath. “I can tell that you are going easy on me, Captain. At least try to hit me, I swear to you that I can handle it.” You chuckled at his words.

“Very well, Your Highness. Though if I may point out, perhaps it would serve you better if you relaxed your muscles more. How can you expect to hit me when your shoulder fails to follow through?” you chided. Taehyung bit his lip at your words.

“My apologies, Captain. I find it difficult when I am near you.” Your brows furrowed, unsure whether you heard correctly. He has trouble relaxing around you? You preferred not to pick apart such a statement.

In answer, you lunged at him, a tide of satisfaction flowing through you when he moved immediately in response. You allowed him to continue on the offensive, though this time you followed up every few parries with a riposte, ensuring you never actually hit him with your blade.

Steel was flying through the air so fast it was a blur, your focus lying solely on the flurry of blades between your bodies. You quickly lost track of time, though based on the slight burn in your calves the activity must have gone on for quite a while.

It became almost like a rhythm – feet dancing, you blocked thrice, circling around for a responding thrust. Little did you know, in your focus you missed Taehyung’s wistful glances as he took in your appearance – gaze sharp, hair around your face flying as it escaped your tight knot at the back.

While you did your best not to make contact, your efforts were not perfect. Because as the Prince stepped left rather than right as you had expected, your blade made full and hard contact with his abdomen, confirmed by the faint oof that accompanied the motion. Broken out of your trance, you stared wide-eyed. “My apologies-”

You let down your guard for only a moment, but it was enough for him to swipe your blade aside, his own resting right between your collarbones. Raising your eyes to meet his own, you found only a grin, no sign of pain. That little-

“KIM TAEHYUNG!!!” you bellowed, ignoring the nearby gasps at your blatant show of disrespect. The eldest soldiers only shook their heads in dismay, having become used to your antics over the years. You whipped the side of his blade with your own, force enough to send it flying out of his grasp. “I was worried about you!” you shouted, stalking your way over to his retreating body, met only by a full-bodied laugh and hands raised to defend himself.

He took hold of your shoulders, keeping you at arms’ length as you glared up at him. The look only sent him into another fit of laughter. “The look on your face was magnificent, Captain,” he snickered, ignoring the betrayal on your face. “I’m perfectly fine, also. You needn’t worry so much-”

“Oh, you will not be fine by the time I’m done with you, Your Highness,” you seethed, picking up his discarded blade only to chuck it at him with just a little more force than necessary. “If you wanted a fight, Kim Taehyung, you’ve found one. I will pray for your recovery.”

Taking up your position for the third time of the afternoon, you scanned his features opposite you. He had no blaring weak spots, though you would be surprised if he did after all his years of training. He was fast, though you would bet that you were faster. Defeating him at his full capabilities would not be extremely easy, but if you gave it perhaps 80% you supposed you could be done within minutes.

“Any last words?” you goaded, grinning at the fleck of worry that crossed his face. “You look afraid, Your Highness.”

“It is perhaps in my best interest to remain a bit afraid, My Lady,” he chuckled lightly, eyes keen as they awaited your first movement. The narrowed your eyes, taking him in, planning your actions. He’s not wrong, you thought. Everyone in this field was just a little bit afraid.

Taehyung jumped when your blade made contact with his own, a high-pitched screech ringing out as he fought you off. You gave him no time to contemplate his own actions before you lunged relentlessly at him, delivering strike after strike without pause. He was forced to remain on the defensive, putting in his full effort to parry and step away in time.

Despite his struggle, you were impressed he was able to keep up with you as well as he was. He’s been training more, you noted. His improvement was clear compared to the last time you fought only several months ago. However, in a game of stamina, you were sure to win.

The top of your bodice dug sharply into your chest as your breaths quickened, but you were no stranger to discomfort. Over time you had learned to put aside such trivial things. Aches and pains were part of your job, and you’d be damned if you didn’t do it well.

Unwilling to let go of your pride, your steps quickened, Taehyung’s blade moving frantically to keep up but inevitably slowing slightly as you did not give him time to breathe. If you hadn’t focused all of your energy into this alone with no distractions, you perhaps would have poked fun at him.

When his sword arm lagged only slightly behind, arms slightly too wide, slightly too open, you struck hard. Batting his blade to the side only centimetres above where he held it in his grasp, you simpered, watching his shocked face as his blade went flying. His eyes darted between you and the blade, metres away, seemingly contemplating whether to give up or to pounce on it.

“What now, Little Prince? If this were a battlefield, would you simply cower in fear?” you coerced, eyes predatory. Perhaps it was sadistic of you, but you relished in the look of dismay in Taehyung’s face. He’d been thoroughly defeated – it was only a matter of how long you would draw it out.

Tossing your own foil to the side, you stretched your limbs before beckoning him over, fists positioned in front of you. It was a petty move and you knew it, for soldiers were much more well-versed in hand-to-hand combat than the Crown Prince, who was known to favour his swords and bows.

Taehyung had no complaints, however. A fight was a fight, after all. As he came after you with one, two, three jabs to your chest, you danced aside as you evaded easily. The difference in speed between his punches and sword thrusts were clear, the former much less practiced than the latter.

You unfortunately had not thought this idea through, because your options for victory without injuring the Prince were limited. While you were aware Taehyung would not mind, it would not be the best image for you to beat the life out of the Kingdom’s Crown Prince in open view of a squadron sworn to protect him.

“Are you so eager for my company that you would draw this out?” he joked, a weak punch toward your face easily shoved out of the way by your forearm. “Or perhaps you find pleasure in cornering me, My Lady?”

“You think so highly of yourself, Your Highness. Is it so disconcerting to find yourself put in your place every so often?”

“Quite the opposite, I think. I’ve never enjoyed myself so much,” he beamed, eyes shining. “I’ve quite missed you, Captain.” You faltered at the admission. While you loved to give him a hard time, you knew he was well aware of your fondness for him. However, you don’t believe you’ve ever said something so forthright to each other, and the statement awakened something in you that you thought you had buried deep.

Noting your slightly frozen state, Taehyung charged at you. However, you would not be fooled twice. The audacity of this man-

Twisting your arm to grab hold of his, you leaped forward. Suddenly taking the force of your full weight, Taehyung had nowhere to go but down, groaning as his back thudded against the canvas floor. Knee digging itself into the Prince’s ribcage below you, you sighted your previously discarded blade nearby. Grabbing hold of it, you held it to his throat.

“Yield,” you whispered, words escaping you much softer than intended. He made no effort to move, only staring up into your face with unspeakable emotion.

“And what if I am happy where I am, My Lady?” he murmured, taking in your appearance. Chest heaving, escaped hair wet with sweat, blouse crinkled – you were perhaps the finest sight he’d ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. Though his words might have been taken for humour, you saw the look on his face. He didn’t even attempt to mask the desire, shameless through and through.

Before you could even think to respond, smatterings of applause broke out across the field at your victorious display, though they could not even begin to understand what was happening between the two of you. Moment broken, you quickly hopped up, helping Taehyung to his feet but avoiding his gaze. You were afraid to admit how much your heart fluttered when you heard his words, afraid of how much it would hurt when you would be forced to walk away and never speak of this moment again.

It was for the best.

“Y/N,” he called out softly, hands reaching for your own, but maintaining a respectful distance. Your eyes flew up to meet his, unused to hearing your own name in the palace nowadays. The look he gave you was honest, sincere. “Do you feel this too?”

You paused. Though he didn’t quite say what this meant, you could guess. In fact, his knowing gaze told you he only wanted you to admit what he already knew. The man had always been perceptive, and you had more memories with him than with your own family. You were certain he was familiar with your every expression. After all, you could write novels about his face – the way his eyes shone in his passion, the way the corners of his lips twitched when he was repressing a scowl.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Pleading ignorance was the best defense. Admitting to your desires was foolish, and would not change your circumstances. You knew this was deeper than physical desires, but that just made it all the more impossible. Princes were destined for arranged marriage – nobody could simply form a relationship with a future King, least of all the soldier who has pledged her life to his parents. No, a proper relationship was not within the realm of possibility. But neither could you lay with the Crown Prince in good conscience – how would the public trust you to put the King and Queen’s safety above all else if you were warming their Prince’s bed?

Every option to act on your desires was fated for failure.

Taehyung’s hands moved from your palms to your wrists, his thumbs pressing into your pulse firmly. “Your heart is racing,” he murmured, eyes staring into your own as though he knew your every secret. “Why do you hide it?”

“You know why,” you stated, voice soft. “Of course I feel it, but it matters not.” The admission coming from your own lips shocked you. You had danced around each other for years, orbiting each other like binary stars, but you’d never admitted your attraction to him.

“It matters to me,” he whispered, thumb stroking at the soft skin of your wrists with care. “Come to my chambers after dinner.”

Your brows shot up at the suggestion. This was not a light request. You were no longer children, no longer laughed in his company until the maids shooed you away, chiding you for making so much noise.

This was real. As much as you grew to accept your desires, you had never even fathomed acting on them. Not when you knew it couldn’t last – not when your reputation, perhaps even your position, were at stake. “Your Highness, I couldn’t possibly-”

“Please,” he begged, staring into you with an expression you would liken to a puppy begging for scraps. You attempted to turn away, but he only followed. “Please,” he repeated, noting your conflicted expression. It was hard to deny him anything when he was looking at you like that, but even harder to deny yourself when every part of you wanted nothing more than to say yes.

“Very well,” you breathed, sealing your fate. “I shall come when the clock strikes eight, Your Highness.”

--

You couldn’t do it. As much as your heart craved him more than anything, you couldn’t. He was untouchable. If you were any other person, if you were just a court lady, you would jump at the chance. It wasn’t a secret that the Prince has had many partners, and nobody gave it a second thought. But to be with you?

It was improper. Impossible. How could you be trusted to do your duty fully and objectively if you’d laid with the Crown Prince?

After bathing, you made your way to his bedchambers, clad only in a loose blouse and cotton pants, hair flowing freely around your shoulders, still wet. You could not join him in his bed, but he at least deserved a rejection in person rather than your absence.

Knocking lightly on the door, you were startled when it swung open, your arm still raised. He gave you such a sweet smile it was almost painful, still dressed in his earlier attire but hair loose around his face. You stepped into the room, taking in its appearance, having not seen the room in years. It smelled of him, of vanilla and lavender and musk, a scent you would breathe for the rest of your life if it was possible. The room was exactly as you remembered it, mostly barren if not for the set of throwing knives on display – a gift from your father for the Prince’s coming-of-age.

“I’m so glad you came-”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off, turning to face him. “I came to put a stop to this before it’s begun, Your Highness. You're trying to start something that will be too painful to cease.” Your words struck him, and it physically pained you to see his face transform from excitement to distress.

“But I am not imagining what we have, am I? I have longed for you for years. Am I wrong to think you have too?” he pleaded.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Your Highness. We can’t possibly do this – think about it. Not only that, I cannot have the palace thinking I earned my position through your bed. There are so many reasons we cannot – I want you but I cannot have you!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but you couldn’t help it in your grief. Eyes brimming with unshed tears of frustration, it hurt to look at him standing so close, and yet so out of reach.

At your anguish, Taehyung reached for your face, thumbs wiping away the tears you didn’t even notice had fallen. His tenderness only sent another wave of sorrow through you, chest heavy. “I’m sorry. I know it was selfish to call you here. I know this is easier for me than you. Please forget I ever asked.”

“I know it’s wrong, but...”

“But?” he urged gently.

“Is it so foolish that I want it anyway?” you whispered. You looked at him wide-eyed, gaze pained, searching his face as if it held the answers to the universe. For you, perhaps it did.

“Y/N...” he begun, the sweet sound of your name coming from his lips the final nail in your coffin. Denying that you wanted this more than anything would be the greatest lie you’ve ever told. It was brash, and stupid, and irresponsible, but you wanted to feel this at least once. You wanted to indulge in his touch, his affection. You needed to feel his hands on you, his mouth on your skin, and you didn’t know if you would ever be brave enough to accept him again if you didn’t do it now.

“It can only be once. Nobody can know.” You couldn’t risk the noblewomen catching on to your activities. They were unusually observant, and you didn’t doubt their abilities to discern your relationship with even the faintest of hints. Taehyung knew better than anybody that the palace ladies treated gossip as currency, and word traveled especially quickly on matters involving him. He nodded at your words, but the grave look on his face told you he wished things were different.

“I will cherish our time together, My Lady” he breathed, but his conflicted expression spoke volumes. “We don’t have to do this-”

You shook your head, closing the space between you until your chests were pressed together. Stomach in knots and chest tight, you ran your fingers along his broad chest and down to his abdomen before wrapping them loosely around his waist. You would savour every touch, make note of every expression, save away every delightful noise from his lips, and you would pray for it to be enough to satiate you for a lifetime. Because it had to be.

Tilting your head back to meet his eyes, your heart nearly leapt from your throat at the look on his face. The adoration, the warmness – but most of all, the pain. This was torture for both of you, and you knew it. It was selfish and self-destructive, but the two of you always seemed to bring out both the best and the worst in each other.

Without speaking, you reached up to grab hold of his head, yanking it down to smash your lips together without ceremony. He responded with fervor, moving against you, arms tugging until there was not even a millimetre of space between your bodies. You tried not to think about the desperation in your movements, the saltiness of the tears still present on your face. You dragged your hands over the planes of his chest and down to his biceps, nails digging in slightly when he bit at your bottom lip.

Harshly tugging his shirt from his waistband, you traced your nails up his bare skin, relishing in the uneven breath he let out in response. You would dedicate yourself to memorizing every inch of him. Every dip, every curve would be ingrained in your mind for eternity, your hands tracing patterns into his skin like a brush on canvas.

He did the same to you, his large hands finding their way beneath your blouse and chemise, lifting them both above your head to toss them to the floor. You were bare underneath, having planned to leave for your own bedchambers only minutes after arriving. He sucked in a breath at the sight of you on display entirely for him. His careful fingers traced the scars on your abdomen, accumulated through years of training and fighting on the frontlines. While ugly, you were not ashamed – these were proofs to others and to yourself that you would put your Kingdom above all else.

Bending at the knee, he traced his mouth down your jaw, down your throat, kissing you reverently as he continued his path. Passing over your breasts, he moved lower to mouth gently at the scars littering your belly, his gentle presses causing new tears to spring to your eyes. Was this how it felt to be worshipped? To be loved?

Taehyung took in the sorrow painting your features, but did not comment. There was nothing to be said – he understood perfectly. Perhaps if he pressed his face more firmly into the softness of your skin, he would spare you having to see the twin look of despair he was unable to hide.

Sliding a hand into his hair, you softly brushed it away from his face, gently pulling his chin up to look at you. Your heart wrenched at the sight of him, eyes looking at you as though you were a treasure, as though you weren’t the thing causing him so much pain. As though you wouldn’t leave him alone after this.

Tugging lightly at the collar of his shirt, he quickly got the memo, shucking it off in a direction you didn’t see, too focused on what was just revealed to you. If not for the honeyed gold of his skin, you would have been convinced he was carved of marble. You traced the lines of his body, a tiny smile breaking through at the shudder he gave when your nails scratched over his nipples. Though your actions were slow, he did not rush you. He only watched the awe in your gaze, eyes wide as though if you blinked, he would disappear. The childlike wonder in your face warmed his heart, pleased that you would let your guard down here with him.

You blinked out of your stupor at the sensation of a warm hand on your cheek, the sight of Taehyung’s soft grin at your antics lighting a small fire of embarrassment in you. “Bed?” he asked lightly, nuzzling his face into your neck. The hot breaths near your ear sent a shiver down your spine, tugging him ever-so-closer as you nodded in response.

Pulling away from him, you tugged lightly at the drawstrings to your pants, biting your lip when you saw the Prince follow your every movement. Taking his hands into your own, you brought them to your waistband. “Help me,” you breathed, heart racing at the knowledge that you would soon be laid bare to him.

He took a deep breath before releasing the knot at your waist, tugging your pants ever so slowly down your legs. He knelt at your feet, removing the fabric from your ankles until the only cloth left on your body is your underwear. Eyes falling on your face, he thumbed the waistband, looking up at you in question. At your quiet “please,” he removed that too, your folds revealed to him, shiny with your arousal.

Groaning at the sight, Taehyung latched onto your clit before you could even process the movement, the sudden pleasure making you weak in the knees. He sucked at your bud lightly, taking pleasure in the way you sunk your hands into his hair to ground yourself. When you wobbled slightly in your bliss, his left arm rose to hold you steady at the waist.

When his other hand rose to thumb through your folds while his mouth continued its ministrations, you moaned out. Eyes falling down to observe the Prince, the sight brought a small whimper to your lips, your hips grinding down onto him. He looked absolutely sinful, his eyes heavy-lidded as he delved into your heat with such abandon, focused entirely on your pleasure. When he inserted a finger into you, quickly followed by another upon feeling your wetness, you were sure you would have fallen if not for his arm holding you steady.

“What-” you started, but ended up cutting yourself off with a loud moan at the sensation of his fingers scissoring inside you. “What happened to going to bed?” you managed to get out, utterly breathless.

You let out a gasp when he pulled from you abruptly in response, picking you up at the waist and throwing you onto his mattress. You had no time to reprimand him before he was spreading your legs, mouth and fingers returning to you as he joined you on the bed. Any words were stolen from your throat at the stretch of a third finger, your hips bucking up to get closer to the source of your pleasure.

“You taste so good,” he moaned out, panting. You didn’t miss the way he grinded his clothed crotch into the sheets, heat shooting through you at the sight. When his fingers curled inside you, the heat spread throughout your whole body, abdomen tight and walls clenching tightly around his fingers. You were so close to the edge, it would take only one breath before you fell over.

“Give it to me, please,” he pleaded, tongue flicking over your clit as his fingers continued to nudge that spongy spot inside you. Needing no more encouragement, you fell apart, moans forced from your throat, hips grinding against him as he worked you through your orgasm. When a dull ache begun to replace the pleasure, you pulled away from him, pushing him onto his back.

His arousal was clear, his cock straining in his tight pants enough that it must have hurt. Though, his face held no complaint, only dazed wonderment clear on his features, almost as if he still couldn’t believe what was happening. He let out a sharp hiss as your nails traced the outline of his cock, his teeth biting furiously at his bottom lip.

Deciding not to torture him after the ecstasy he brought you, you tugged his pants and underwear down in one go, Taehyung groaning in relief as his cock sprung free. The tip was angry and red, the slit leaking precum. After freeing him of his clothing, you reached out a hand to pump lightly at his cock, noting the way it twitched in your hold. It looked almost painful, the vein running up the underside big and angry.

You began to lower your mouth to him, eager to return the pleasure he gave you, but were halted by a gentle hand on your cheek. “Please,” he begged, “I can’t. I need you,” he expressed all in one breath, eyes pained and needy.

Taking mercy on him, you rose, shifting until you were seated in his lap, mouth seeking his out. He cried out into your mouth at the sensation of your slick folds rocking against him, grinding down onto his cock. Hand reaching down to position him at your entrance, you pulled your face away to watch his as you sunk yourself slowly onto his length. The moan you let out at the stretch was crude, and it didn’t appear that Taehyung was faring any better, his breaths coming in pants, eyes screwed shut.

He’s beautiful like this, you thought, your own eyes wanting to badly to flutter closed, but your need to take in his every expression won out. Your head tipped back in pleasure as you seated yourself fully, moans escaping as you rocked against him, his pelvis pressing into your clit.

Losing yourself in the sensation, you fell forward to bury your face into Taehyung’s neck, his scent only adding to your pleasure. His hips rocked against your own, thrusts shallow, both of you letting out low moans at the movement. The friction against your clit had your abdomen tightening again, his tender hold on your body the best thing you’d ever felt. But as the pleasure reared in on you again, it was at that moment you remembered the totality of your situation.

You would never get this again.

The thought was like ice-water thrown over your head. How could you have forgotten? His cock deep inside you, his hips rising to meet your own, his hand clutching at the small of your back, his moans – it was all temporary.

You shoved your face tightly into his shoulder, hoping your sob would disguise itself as a moan. But at the shaking of your shoulders, Taehyung paused his actions, hand rising to cradle your head. “Y/N?”

“Tae,” you cried out, heart wrenching. It wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time he’s properly heard his name from your lips since your promotion – no teasing, no games. His heart broke at the sound, your sobs guttural, and he wanted nothing more than to take the pain away. The gravity of the situation brought tears to his own eyes, unable to suppress the emotion any longer.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered, your head lifting to meet his glassy eyes. Your eyes were red-rimmed, your lips quivering. This was an agony that only the two of you could ever understand.

“Taehyung, I-” you faltered, choking on a sob. I love you. You couldn’t say it. What good could it bring you now? But your eyes spoke volumes, the emotion clear on your face. He knew how you felt just as much as you knew how he felt.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he repeated, tears finally escaping his eyes as he tugged you closer. There was no way to be more intimate than this, arms cradling each other as you cried, his cock still nestled inside you.

It would have to be enough.

As your bodies shifted minutes later, the friction against you had you shivering, remembering the position you were in. You pulled your head from his neck to gaze at his face, his eyes meeting your own. It hurt, but there was sad acceptance in your eyes, mirrored in his own. You tried to force a small smile onto your face, but you were unsure whether it appeared as a grimace. You instead elected to press a soft kiss to his lips, eyes falling closed as he returned it.

You rocked your hips together slowly, relishing in the light sighs and quiet moans of the other. Your movements were tender, careful, full of love and affection you would never get the chance to verbalize. When you felt your release creeping up on you again, you arched your back, grinding into his pelvis. Wanting to help you along, Taehyung grabbed hold of your hips, holding you steady as he thrusted up into you, every so often holding himself deep, grinding against you. The emotion of it all had your breath caught in your throat, your orgasm washing over you in gentle waves as you writhed against his body.

You could tell he was coming undone, his thrusts erratic, breaths heavy as he pulled away from you to leave open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. You moaned at the overwhelming sensation of his movements so soon after your orgasm, but you wouldn’t dare rob him of his pleasure. Not now, not like this.

Groaning loudly, you felt his cock twitch inside you as he continued his thrusts, feeling the warmth of his release coating your walls. He shook in your arms, and you couldn’t bring yourself to confirm whether he was overwhelmed with pleasure or sorrow.

Letting out a whine as you pulled yourself off him, you wiped the mess between your  legs on his sheets. His maids would clean for him come sunrise, and you were anxious to escape the room before you lost yourself fully to despair.

You allowed yourself to bask in his presence momentarily, laying alongside him for several minutes before you rose to get dressed. You kept your back to him, unwilling to show weakness despite your vulnerability only moments ago.

“Stay,” he begged, his voice still husky from the passion you’d shared. Your heart sunk at the suggestion. You wanted nothing more than to stay, but every minute you spent here knowing the outcome only shattered you a bit more.

Fully dressed, you made your way to the door. You could still feel where his hands touched you, where his lips pressed against you, where his cock had been inside you. “I’m sorry,” you breathed, misery colouring your tone. You turned to him, taking in his bare appearance for the last time. You stared, hoping to burn the image into your retinas.

“I know,” was his only response. What more was there to say? Your eyes swept over each other, locking this moment away in your hearts forever. Finally, you turned back to the door, turning the knob and stepping out into the hallway without looking back. The sound of the hinge falling into place behind you felt like waking up from a dream, the period at the end of a sentence.

Your tears fell freely and silently as you made your way back to your chambers. Your heart ached a bit more with the increasing distance, every step leaving a piece of you behind.

It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? You supposed whoever could claim such a thing had never loved like this. Because walking away left your heart in a million pieces, the only glue that could piece you back together still staring at his empty sheets, the dip from where your body once laid still warm to the touch.

--

Months went by without speaking of that night. The tonic you’d taken upon returning to your room had worked well, your body having bled weeks later. You had still talked to Taehyung – you had to; your duty required it. But the pain never ceased, only dulled. You told yourself you would move on, that there was no use in dwelling. But the heated glances you caught him directing at you, desire and heartbreak in his eyes, always took you right back to that night.

He hadn’t been with anyone since – not that you were listening. You couldn’t help but to overhear the palace ladies gossiping, spreading word of the Crown Prince denying their advances. You didn’t know what to do with the information.

Having just returned from mapping out Their Majesties route to a neighbouring city, you returned your horse to the stables. While not necessary, you much preferred to prepare yourself for every possibility of attack, taking note of any weaknesses in visibility along the path. Every second counts when you’re under attack, after all.

“Captain!” a voice called out to you urgently. Having just handed off your horse to the stablehand, you turned to meet the man, his hands on his knees as if he had just run a mile before coming here. “I have been looking for you everywhere, Captain. Their Majesties have requested your presence in the throne room.” Unusual, since you had met together only this morning, but you would not keep them waiting.

“Thank you, sir. I will head there now.”

--

You went directly to the throne room, pausing outside to nod to the royal family’s assistant stationed outside. He smiled to you briefly before pushing the door open.

“Captain Y/N to see you, Your Majesties.”

“Let her in, thank you,” a kind, feminine voice rang out.

You stepped inside quickly, taking a knee until the King gestured for you to stand. “I deeply apologize for my appearance, Your Majesties. I had just returned from planning our route for tomorrow and thought it better not to leave you waiting.”

The King smiled at you, the warm-hearted expression reminding you of Taehyung’s. Your chest ached at the thought, but you kept a blank expression. “Hard at work as always, I see. We had something we would like to discuss with you.” At his words, you noticed that not only were the King and Queen present, but Taehyung was stood off to the side as well. Your heartrate increased slightly at the sight of him.

“Your Highness. Forgive my disrespect, I had not seen you there,” you bowed respectfully, ignoring the heat that rushed through you at his appearance. His hair was loose, his outfit form-fitting. He was beautiful. You tried not to think too much on what he looked like beneath the clothes. “What can I do for you, Your Majesties?”

“Captain, my son came to us earlier today with quite the startling proposition,” he began, and your brows furrowed in confusion. When he failed to elaborate, you spoke up.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Your Majesty.”

“You see, he came to us in a frenzy and asked, ‘Father, what would you say if I wanted to marry the Captain of the Guard?’” You froze, eyes wide. Marry? You? Taehyung? Your heart pounded violently at the notion.

“Sire, I promise you this was not my idea. I apologize-”

“My dear, do not panic. We are not angry. But we wanted to ask your thoughts.”

“Your Majesties, I couldn’t possibly marry your son.” You made effort not to look at the Prince, lest your composure fail. “I have no lands to offer. No gold, nothing. I cannot offer you any alliance, I cannot bring anything to your family,” you turned to Taehyung, his expression unreadable. “You cannot marry a soldier,” you whispered, heart breaking once again as the possibility was dangled in front of you, lingering just beyond reach.

“Captain, do you know that the people adore you? That they sing your praises when we pass through their villages?” the Queen asked, a bright smile painting her features. Your face grew hot at the mention. “Your soldiers respect you. Your hometown throws festivals in honour of your birthday. Dare I say that you’re more popular than us?” she joked, giggle chiming lightly through the room. Taking in her appearance and mannerisms, it was no question why Taehyung was as handsome and as loved as he was.

“Ma’am, of course not,” you responded, hand raising to awkwardly scratch at your head. You were unsure where she was going with the statement.

“You’ve earned the Kingdom’s trust, Captain. You’re perhaps the most loyal person I’ve ever laid eyes on. Might I also add that you are not just some nobody? Your family has served ours for generations. You are of noble birth,” she stated matter-of-factly. “Do you consider yourself so unworthy?”

You paused at the question. It did not seem to be a trap, and the Queen was certainly not one to be malicious. Glancing around the room, you noted the King and Prince were observing your reaction expectantly. It was not an environment good for your nerves. “A soldier is not fit to be the future Queen,” is the statement you settled for, attempting to maintain a mask of indifference.

“My dear, do you remember what you told me only a few years ago? When I asked you if you were afraid of trying to accomplish what nobody else in history has?” the King’s deep voice rang out. Your gaze snapped up, knowing exactly what he was about to say. Oh no...

“‘Damn history. I will write my own history,’ I think it was.” Chuckles broke out across the room, the Queen tittering, Taehyung snickering. You’d never told Taehyung about that encounter, embarrassment flowing through you every time you thought about it. You focused your gaze on your feet, face burning at the reminder of your words.

“I have since learned to control my words, Sire,” you muttered ashamedly, fingers tangling together.

“Y/N,” the King’s voice called, grabbing your attention once again. “You have guts. Daring. You’re smart, well-trained. And there’s nobody I would trust to guard my life more than you.” You bit your lip at the praise, struggling to hide a proud grin. Being praised by the King was a feat not many experienced. “It would be an honour to call you our daughter.”

You stared, slack-jawed, processing his words. You didn’t notice Taehyung approaching you until his fingers laced with your own, his opposing hand moving to raise your chin. The open affection on his face, the love - it was everything you’d ever dreamed of and nothing you’d ever dared hope for. Your breathing quickened as he sank to his knees in front of you.

“Please,” he beseeched, vulnerability clear on his face. “Spend eternity with me, together. Will you marry me?”

Tears filled your eyes, but for once they were tears of joy, not tears of despair. You dropped to your knees to meet him, arms thrown around his neck. He barely had time to catch you as you threw yourself at him, bodies the closest they’ve been since that night in his bed. Raising your head to lock your eyes on his, you knew the same love you had for him was written all over your face.

“Yes,” you cried, hands raising to cup his jaw. “Yes.”

[twdeadfanfic]

Feral Pt.4

Daryl Dixon x OC

Summary:  Daryl is on a run with Rick when, in a warehouse, they find a woman who attacks them, and who reminds Daryl to a lioness…or a feral cat, and who doesn’t seem to trust anyone, including them, but Daryl finds himself going back to the warehouse, trying to get that feral to go with him to the prison, and to earn her trust.

Chapter 3/10 Words: 3485

You can find my other fics in my masterlist.

Last chapter…Dana was introduced to the council and around the prison, though she still seems only on ease around Daryl, and it was decided that she’d be hunting and patrolling with him

Daryl was walking through the woods, followed by Dana, who walked silently ,“like a cat”, Daryl had awkwardly joked.  It was good that she was able to walk in silence and that it came naturally to her, that way she wouldn’t scare the game. Daryl already had a squirrel hanging from his belt, and was now tracking what he was sure was a rabbit. “Went that way…” He muttered.

“How?” Dana said.

“What?”

“How you know it.”

Daryl looked at her, back at the track and then at Dana again. If he stopped to point at her what was he following and how, the rabbit might go away…but he decided to do it anyway. What was going to be a quick thing, just pointing at Dana what he was seeing, ended up being a longer explanation about the basics of tracking game and hunting…not that Daryl minded it, and it didn’t seem like Dana minded it either, she listened to him with a level of attention that Daryl had barely had anytime before.

Daryl ended up getting a rabbit anyway, and although he was the one doing the tracking, Dana watched and paid attention to everything that he told her and pointed at, seeming in total focus, and Daryl would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it.

“You gotta learn and hunt yourself, uh?” He told her once the rabbit was hanging from his belt. “A cat that can’t hunt makes no sense,” he joked awkwardly and Dana scoffed, but she smirked, and she nudged him with her shoulder. It took Daryl by surprise, and a smile tugged at his lips at seeing her seeming comfortable with him like that, even if it made him feel weird too.

As they patrolled the woods near the prison, Dana spotted a group of edible mushrooms on the ground, tugging at Daryl’s shirt. “Good job, cat,” he said while they picked them up. “We can stew them with the rabbit and the squirrel.” Dana gave him that small smile that always made him smile back and always made his belly do funny things at the idea of her not being that scared and mistrustful anymore. “Let’s go back, alright?” They hadn’t found any threat in the woods, they had gotten a squirrel and a rabbit, and mushrooms, and Dana seemed more at ease…all in all, it had been a good morning.

Some of Dana’s apprehension seemed to be back as they walked into the prison and were around waving people again, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to run away or stab someone if she got scared.

“I’ll show you how to clean and get ready the squirrel and the rabbit, yeah?” Daryl asked and Dana nodded, following him to the kitchen area. Like when he’d been telling her about tracking, Dana watched attentively while he got the pieces ready, and Daryl couldn’t help how it made him nervous, though he tried to control it and to give her some instruction here and there. They had almost finished when Carol walked in.

“You learned to hunt already?” She asked to Dana and Daryl didn’t know if she was joking, but he scoffed.

“She ain’t gonna learn in a day, but she will.” He was sure of it. “But she hunted some mushrooms.”

“Good.” Carol scoffed, but she nodded looking at everything that they had lied out on the kitchen. “We can make a good stew out of this.” She looked at Dana, who seemed guarded again. “I know it’s comfortable if Daryl brings you dinner again, but why don’t you come down to get your own this night? We actually won’t bite you…” She said as she glanced at the bite mark on Daryl’s arm, who rolled his eyes.

“Let’s finish this…” He muttered, back to cleaning the rabbit.

That evening, the dinner was getting served and Daryl was about to go get two bowls, one for himself and another for Dana, when he saw her walking down the stairs to the cafeteria area, looking around and seeming like she might run away and retreat, but she nodded at the people who waved at her, and made her way to the queue for the food. Daryl smiled at her, nodding encouragingly, and she gave him that brief, tiny smile, even if she seemed anxious.

Once she had her food, Dana looked at the table where Michonne, Rick, Glenn and Maggie were sat down, but finally she rushed away and up the stairs towards the cells. It was progress, though. Daryl noticed Rick looking at him and nodding with a small smile, he’d seen Dana too. Taking his bowl, Daryl went to sit down with them, Michonne was probably leaving in the morning and he wanted to talk to her before, but he rushed through his stew to go see Dana once he was finished.

Once in front of her cell, though, he didn’t know what to say. “You did well” he finally murmured awkwardly and Dana just shrugged, seeming awkward too. “Give me your bowl, I’ll wash it.”

“Don’t have to,” Dana muttered.

“I know, but I’m going to.” Daryl shrugged.

“Thanks…” Dana said, handing him the bowl.

“Ain’t nothing…I’ll see you in the morning, alright? Maybe we’ll find a deer tomorrow,” he said content when Dana gave him that small smile. “So, get some rest.”

*

The next couple of days, Daryl kept taking Dana hunting and patrolling with him, pointing trails to her, showing her how to track and hunt, and she kept listening attentively to all he had to show her, and so Daryl was confident that she’d be able to eventually track by herself. It’d be good to have another tracker and hunter, in case something happened to him, Michonne was not bad at tracking, but with her coming and going all the time, it’d be good that someone else learned to track too. Daryl had told Rick a couple of times, but even if he wanted to, he’d always been too busy first leading then with the gardens and whatnot.

Dana, though, seemed to give him her undivided attention now while they tracked and hunted, and also once they were back inside the prison and he showed her how to clean and cut his kills, letting her do it too.

Dana seemed a bit more at ease at the prison, and although sometimes she seemed anxious, she didn’t seem to think that someone would attack her there anymore or that she was unsafe, but she still spent most of the time around Daryl…for how much he’d thought he wanted his time alone, he still found that he didn’t mind to have her around, most of the time he didn’t even notice her, just a silent presence near him, and if it helped her to feel better, he wasn’t going to complain.

When she wasn’t with him, she was usually locked in her cell, reading a book that Beth had given her. She still didn’t really talk to anyone else, but she seemed less startled and on edge around people, even waving or nodding awkwardly back when they greeted her. She was adapting to the prison and Daryl was glad of it. He hoped that she’d open up to more people too, the more people she bonded with the better, so she wouldn’t rely only on him, in case anything happened and he couldn’t be around her.

Daryl was now looking for Dana, after talking with Rick. Since Michonne had told him about that old bike she’d found, he’d been itching to go get it, even if Michonne thought that there was no need to rush. She had marked the place on a map for him before leaving the day before, and it wasn’t too far, he was surprised that they hadn’t stumbled onto it before, so he wanted to go. He’d told Rick, who said that it was okay, and now he wanted to tell Dana, they wouldn’t be going hunting tomorrow. He wondered what she might get up to in the prison without him there, and he hoped that she’d be okay.

She wasn’t in her cell and so Daryl went to the stables, finding her there, stroking the horses. “You know, you could help with the horses,” he told her, he’d realized that she liked them. “Feeding them and all that, you just have to tell Hershel.”

“No hunting?” She said.

“Yeah, we’d still hunt, but you can help once we’re back at the afternoons, if you wanna.” Daryl shrugged, he usually had stuff to do and Dana had been trailing alongside him, but maybe she’d enjoy more to help with the horses.

“Maybe.” She shrugged and went back to stroking the horse’s snout.

“I gotta talk to you, cat,” Daryl told her and she frowned at him, seeming worried. “I wanna go out tomorrow to find a bike in a cabin that Michonne told me about, so we won’t go hunting, okay?”

“I go with you?” She asked him.

“Uh…do you want to?” Daryl asked, wondering why he hadn’t thought about it, and Dana nodded. “Are you sure? You’ll be okay in here without me, really, nobody will hurt you.” He thought she knew, but he assured it to her again, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to be around him all the time.

“I want to go,” she said.

“Alright…” Daryl wouldn’t mind to take her with him, maybe they could even track something. “I don’t want us staying the night outside, so we leave before the sunrise, okay?” If it were him alone, he wouldn’t mind that much, but he didn’t want to risk it if he was taking Dana too, when there was no need to camp outside, the place was close enough for them to be able to come back and spend the night behind fences. Dana nodded, giving him that tiny smile.

*

Early the next morning, when the sky was just starting to clear, Daryl drove away from the prison. He was taking their pick up, he’d rather ride, but he might need to carry bike parts or the whole thing. Dana was sat down next to him, looking through the window, and Daryl peeked at her while he drove.

She looked so much better than just a few days ago, less terrified and wild, less on edge. A couple of days ago, she had chopped off a good chunk of her wild, dark curls with her knife before Daryl realized it and could offer to get her some scissors, she was probably frustrated at the knots and tangles. The shorter hair suited her, Daryl found himself thinking.

She still hadn’t wanted to go to the showers, but Daryl knew that now that Dana knew that they had a stable source of water from the creek, she washed herself with her bottle and a rag, locked in her cell. Daryl had seen her once, by accident, he hadn’t meant too, and he had quickly looked away and retreated, but he had noticed the marks and old wounds in her dark skin again, and the way in which she washed herself without closing the curtain, looking outside for any incoming threat, even if the cell was locked, one hand holding the wet rag while the other held a knife. Daryl couldn’t help but wonder what had she gone through, feeling angry at it, but he never asked, not wanting to prey and upset her.

They drove through the same road for a while, until eventually Daryl had to leave the road and drive through a path to the woods until even that ended, but he kept driving until the trees blocked the way. “Alright, we’ll walk from here,” he told to Dana. “It can’t be far.”

Dana nodded and got out of the car, following him in silence through the woods as he followed Michonne’s indications. At some point, though, she tugged at his shirt and when Daryl looked at her, she pointed at a squirrel up in a tree branch.

“Good catch,” Daryl whispered to her before shooting, he’d been too busy trying to find the way to see it, but as always, Dana was looking attentively at everything around her, and she always seemed to notice the tiniest details…no wonder she was a survivor, and she was picking up on how to track fast.

Daryl had been thinking about getting a hunting rifle with a silencer for her for when they went out, though for what he could gather from the few words that Dana said when he told her, she seemed to prefer her knife and wasn’t too used to shooting even if she could do it, but she couldn’t hunt just with a knife, and she’d be safer with a rifle too, maybe he should have gotten her a rifle anyway for today instead of letting her go just with her knife, but there didn’t seem to be walkers around and he was with her.

Eventually, they found the cabin, a tiny, tattered place hidden among the trees, overgrown with plants, and Daryl wondered how Michonne had stumbled into it. As they got closer, he spotted the bike lying on the ground, half-covered by plants too. Daryl knelt down next to it, carefully trying to lift it, afraid that it’d break down or even turn into dust just by touching it.

It was an old bike, vintage they’d say, and as Michonne had said, it was in very poor condition, it seemed to have been abandoned even before walkers were a thing. “You could have gotten good money for a bike like this before the world ended…” Daryl murmured, though if the bike had been his, he’d have kept it on point and wouldn’t have sold it to any collector no matter he needed the money.

“World didn’t end,” Dana said and Daryl looked at her. “Just changed.” She shrugged and Daryl guessed that she was right. The idea that the world ended had been a sentence he’d picked up from someone else, but yeah…Dana was right, it hadn’t ended, the world was still there, they were still there, it had just changed. And sometimes, sometimes, Daryl found himself wondering if actually his life wasn’t better now…he knew it was crazy, but maybe he could tell  Dana someday, see what she thought…

Daryl focused his attention back to the bike. He’d check if there were pieces that he could use for something else, or if maybe he could actually save the whole bike, or enough stuff to take it whole to the prison…he thought that getting it going would probably be impossible, but he wanted to try anyway.

“Cabin?” Dana asked.

“Michonne was here already and checked it,” Daryl told her but Dana walked towards it, looking at everything around. “Don’t go far alright? Come back if there are walkers around.” Daryl went back to tinker with the bike. It looked worse at first glance than once he began to check it, and he was getting confident on being able to save more pieces than he thought at first.

Suddenly, though, he heard a noise and he looked up from the bike. “Cat?” He called for Dana when he didn’t see her around, and before he could worry that for some reason she’d actually decided to run away and leave him and the prison, Daryl was sure that he heard the growl a walker not too far. “Dana?!”

Daryl ran towards where he thought the noises were coming from and he found Dana fighting a group of walkers with her knife. There were two already dead on the ground, and she was viciously sinking the knife into the head of another, before grabbing the closer one to do the same. Daryl didn’t lose time to shoot a bolt to another before it got closer to Dana, and she turned towards him when she noticed the walker falling down, seeing him there before she grabbed the remaining walker and put it down too.

When she had turned towards him, Daryl had noticed blood on her shirt, her arms, and her face, and he couldn’t help but straight up panic. “Are you hurt?! Are you bitten?!” He asked as he rushed towards her, grabbing her arm to try and check her but Dana flinched her arm away.

She didn’t seem bitten or hurt and Daryl noticed that one of the walkers on the ground was all bloodied up and with its insides hanging out, and he realized that Dana must have gotten covered in its blood when she held it to stab it and maybe then touched her face with her bloodied hands. Somehow, it didn’t help to calm him down.

“The hell were you thinking?! Going for them alone?! They could have bitten you! Could have killed you!” Daryl hadn’t meant to yell, but he couldn’t stop himself, agitated and scared, even if he knew he was all the time doing the same, putting down small groups of walkers himself even if Rick told him not to…maybe he’d start understanding Rick now… “Told you not to! What if they killed you?!”

“I can do it!” Dana snapped back, sounding angry too, but all Daryl’s scared anger left him when he noticed tears in her eyes. “I’ve killed before! I’m not useless! I’m no kitten!”

Daryl didn’t know what to say or what to do, but he regretted that he had yelled at her, the idea of maybe having scared her felt like a kick…he had upset her for sure, but he was scared at the idea of her having gotten hurt, even bitten or killed, he couldn’t help it. He just looked at her while Dana glared at him, before he reached out tentatively to try and check her again, but Dana seemed mad, almost like the feral woman that he first met at the warehouse, and she pushed him away before rushing towards the cabin.

Daryl followed her, looking at her getting inside the cabin and closing the door behind her. “Dana?” He called for her but there was no answer, and Daryl felt like shit. He had yelled at her…but she had to see that he was worried, that she had scared him, right? What if now she wouldn’t want to go back to the prison with him? What if she’d want to stay away in that cabin like she’d been in the warehouse?

Daryl decided to stop thinking it and he went back to the bike, but he couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t stop his regret and fears, and he didn’t know what to do. After a little while, though, he noticed Dana walking out of the cabin. He still didn’t know what to do and so he focused his gaze on the bike, tinkering with it even if his mind was on Dana, afraid that maybe just looking at her might upset her or scare her after he’d yelled at her. He noticed her kneeling down next to him, and suddenly he felt her touching him, and when he looked at her, he realized that she’d headbutted him softly, gently nudging his arm with her forehead once.

“Are you okay?” Daryl asked her softly and Dana nodded. “I…I’m sorry I yelled…” Dana nodded again. “I just…I…I got scared, I saw the blood and thought you were hurt,” he made himself explain it even if he was embarrassed and shy. “Got scared thinking a walker would hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dana murmured, apologizing too. “I’m sorry I pushed you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No.”

“Just…just don’t do it again, alright? You know it’s dangerous.” Daryl asked her softly, he didn’t want to feel like that again. “If there’s a group of walkers we put them down together…it ain’t that I think you can’t do it alone, I know you’re a fighter, just…” Daryl shrugged, not knowing how to explain it. “You don’t have to. Me…I…me and everyone in the prison, we got your back now, alright? Just let us help.” Dana nodded again and Daryl looked at her, the blood that had spattered over her face and hair, down her neck, smearing on her shirt and arms… “You’re a mess.”

“Always,” Dana joked and Daryl snorted.

He reached into his bag, taking the bottle of water and a rag, and pouring the water on it, he began washing the blood smeared on Dana’s face, cleaning her a bit so people in the prison wouldn’t freak out at the sight. “I’m just gonna take the whole bike, drag it to the pickup and work on it back at the prison,” he said and Dana nodded, eyes closed as he brushed her face with the wet rag until there wasn’t any blood, though her skin was stained. “Let’s go back home, okay?”

“Okay."

*

I still think they’re cute...that feral kitten might need some cleaning up anf grooming now.

Thanks to the people who decided to give this story a chance, your support keeps me posting. If you enjoyed this and have a moment, please let me know your thoughts.

As always, excuse my English, is not my first language.

I’m going to reblog the taglist in another post to see if that way this shows up in the Daryl tags.

[day-trippin-dreamer]

Nights out

Summary: Axl Rose x Reader with the prompt “I'm afraid to lose you, even though you’re not mine.”

Warnings: slight angst?; mention of a beer bottle breaking? no profanity or nudity (i keep that in my imagination asjddjs);

A/N: I wish I could do a better summary adkjds but the braincell is not responding. This is mine and @axlswhiteshorts' baby that’s been sitting around for a month, but I finally got the inspiration to finish it <3 Thank you for taking the time to read it and I hope you enjoy it! <3 Oh, yeah, this is basically two chunks of sudden 1am inspiration, so it’s kinda trashy? lol, I just really wanted to use that prompt and also write it for my cookie. ♥️

~

Your relationship with Axl was an odd one, to say the least. Especially in the chaos that surrounded Guns N’ Roses wherever they went. You never really wanted any part of it, in any way.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy the occasional night out on the Sunset Strip, grinding your hips against a stranger’s. But you almost never took it further, you never took them to your apartment. That was reserved only for a selected few, the ones that you considered boyfriend material, and you’d be damned if anyone on the Strip qualified as that.

But over the next couple of weeks and a few nights of always running into the boys of the band, you found yourself more frequently at their booth than in the crowd and it was a nice change. Sure, they were incoherently drunk most of the time, or worse, but they were nice guys. Still, not the kind you’d bring home to your parents.

Your day to day life, away from the smell of hairspray and sex, was nothing like theirs. You had a real job, a tidy and cozy one bedroom apartment, the kind of girl that would want to settle down eventually with a regular guy.

But Axl knew better, he’d seen those kind of girls and you weren’t one of them. You came alive under the neon lights and just the way you gave him, the biggest outcast of them all, your undivided attention, was enough for him to want to keep you around until you realized it yourself. A nine to five job and a dude in a suit wasn’t going to do it for you.

But it seemed like that life was slowly pulling you further away from the singer, one job promotion later and a boyfriend by your side, you rarely joined the redhead in his nightly escapades.

He missed dancing with you just for the fun of it, neither of you actually looking to hook up. It was nice knowing you liked his company for him and not for the promise that his image provided. He missed walking you home afterwards, only for you to invite him up to your place because you weren’t done talking. Which would eventually result in him falling asleep on your couch.

In the morning you would always try your hardest to tip toe around the apartment as you went about your morning routine, but somehow your presence always stirred him awake. He wouldn’t complain though, because getting to sit in the late morning sun with you, over a steamy cup of coffee, was not only a good enough reason to get up for the redhead, but also the highlight of his week.

But things were different now. If you went out, your boyfriend picked you up from the club, if by some chance he wasn’t tagging along in the first place. There was no way Axl could have those moments any more, not when he was around.

And Axl didn’t have the willpower, nor desire, to associate with your boyfriend at all, and often retread some place else when the two of you were around – either in the back alley with a stripper or at the bar with one of his bandmates. Anywhere that would be far away from you to not hear your cheerful voice or see your bright smile, because it made him want to break the beer bottle in his hand in two and let it slice him up.

He would be a fool to think that you hadn’t noticed, though, because you’d learned to notice all the little things about him, especially the ones that indicated that something was bothering him. So, once you were certain he was avoiding you, for weeks now, when you made your way to the band’s booth in the bar and didn’t find him there, you were set on confronting him about it.

You asked them where he was and with some reluctance, Steven told you he went out the back. You didn’t waste time in approaching, kicking the backdoor open, slamming into the crisp night air. There were a few people around, smoking and laughing, some even making out near the brick walls. The latter was how you found Axl as well.

It wasn’t jealousy that brought the pang in your chest, no, you never had anything against his one night stands, not even when you had thought that something between the two of you could happen. It was just the kind of life he led. But the fact that he’d chosen to spend the one night you were out, on your own, with a stranger, instead of you, his friend, made your heart sink a little.

The woman that almost met his height in her silver heels was about to melt into his mouth when he noticed you. He placed his hands on her shoulders and you saw him mumble something before he made his way over to you.

“What are you doing here?” He questioned, his green eyes bore into yours, as if you had done something to drive him out here.

“What are you doing here?” You shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Nothing that concerns you.” He almost hissed defensively, making you instantly aware that he was upset.

“Axl, I haven’t seen your face in weeks and I would like to on my one day off.” You told him pointedly, your voice giving away the aggravaition you felt.

He scoffed, “What, your boyfriend’s not around so you finally have time for me?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, the grip of your crossed arms loosening, “What?”

“Just get back inside, Y/N.” Axl waved his hand towards the door with a huff.

“Axl, what’s going on?” Your voice softened, trying a different approach. Whatever was bothering him, you wanted to help him.

He pulled you further away abruptly, wrapping his hand around your arm, until the two of you were far enough from the bar. You stood on the pavement, a slight shiver running through your body, the suiting outfit for a night out you had picked definitely not doing you any good right now.

Axl didn’t seem affected by the chilly air, pacing back and forth in the small space between you and the car parked by the sidewalk. Every two steps he’d turn his back to you and walk over to the car, before turning back around and looking you up and down. Whatever mental debate he was having, you couldn’t figure it out from the troubled look in his eyes.

“Axl–” You started but he cut you off in the most unexpected way. He almost knocked you off your feet when he took a leap forward and caught your lips in a kiss, cradling your face between his palms. He had made a decision and he was obviously confident in it, because his lips pressed firmly against your, taking exactly what they wanted out of this moment.

Your brain tried to catch up to the million different sensations running through your body, but it was pointless. You couldn’t possibly comprehend that this was the reason he’d been avoiding you. You couldn’t even kiss him back, you were so caught off guard. All too soon he pulled away, gazing down at you, his eyes showing you the vulnerable side of him you were yet to see.

“I’m afraid to lose you, Y/N,” He spoke, his thumbs caressing either side of your face tenderly, “Even though you’re not mine. That's what's going on.” He breathed.

[unbridgeabledistances]

Prompt: About the 87% scene. Could you write about Mickey lying about having a "boyfriend" when he was in Mexico. And telling Ian that afterall he didn't have his whole Heart because of that "boyfriend". Ian realizing that the way he said those things weren'te the best. Then the confrontation, they talk about it and are cute with one another

anon i am CRYING mickey would 1000% do this!!! why did the writers not make this happen

(actually i’m glad they didn’t, bc these boys don’t need any more drama)

here’s my take (since we all need a little gallavich before the next episode!), hope u enjoy<3

--

“I guess everyone I’ve been with gets a little piece of my heart”

Mickey froze where he was standing, by the toilet bowl and the dust-covered bathroom shelves, and felt his heart sink. The fuck is he talking about?

“Wait, everyone?”

“Yeah. Yup.” Ian froze for a moment, his toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not everybody. You don’t feel the same way?”

Mickey could almost wince. Fucking Gallagher—didn’t Ian know he was the only guy Mickey had really been with, because Ian was the only one that mattered? Instantly, Mickey thought back to all of the sloppy and excruciatingly boring hookups he’d had with women—back before he came out and was constantly putting on a show, was burying who he really was deep beneath the ground.

Ian looked at him earnestly, toothbrush still half in his mouth, with those steady green eyes Mickey could always get lost in—the only thing keeping Mickey afloat during those darker days, when he felt like everything else was pulling him under. Ian was the only person who had ever made Mickey’s heart race or his palms sweaty, the only fucking person who made Mickey feel like he was here for a reason, no matter what bullshit life threw at him. Ian was the center of Mickey’s existence, and he always had been—how could that asshole not realize that no one else Mickey’d been with could ever compare to him?

“No, I don’t. Y’know what, fuck you” is what Micket wanted to say—he felt the words about to launch off the tip of his tongue. Instead, before he knew what he was doing, Mickey lied.

“Uhhhhh. I guess, man. Y’know, I had that thing down in Mexico with, uh, Julio.” Mickey looked down at his bare feet on the tiled bathroom floor, knowing that Ian would see right through him if he looked directly in his eyes.

Ian’s eyebrows raised in genuine confusion as he leaned over the sink. “Julio? Who the fuck is Julio?” Ian sputtered as he spit out a mouthful of foamy toothpaste.

“Were you not listening, smartass? He was my… my lover. I was in Mexico a long time before I snitched on the cartel and threw my life away for your ass.”

Ian stood up and placed his toothbrush in a cup on the shelf above the sink, turning to look at Mickey, who finally raised his gaze from the linoleum. Ian didn’t look hurt, which was what Mickey was aiming for— more than anything, Ian just looked thoroughly confused, and maybe a little bit amused.

“You’ve never mentioned anything about some dude named Julio, Mick. Where’d you meet him?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Gallagher.”

Mickey stormed out of the bathroom, and turned the corner into their bedroom. It was this fucking quarantine, that was the problem—the same way that they were down each other’s throats when they were cramped together in a tiny jail cell. They were so used to the lack of each other that being together always seemed to make a mess of things. Ian didn’t actually mean that he had been in love with other people— right?

People annoyed Mickey, mostly— sex was sex, just another bland part of his bland life of doing runs for his dad, living in his fucked-up household, getting drunk with his brothers. And then one day, Ian came bursting through his door. Mickey would never forget that first time that he and Ian were together— in his opinion, that day probably permanently altered his brain chemistry or some shit. The day that he was laying in bed, woken up by a pale-faced angel whose chest was just as smooth and beautifully pale and freckled as the skin on his face and hands. And Mickey was also covered with skin, that was apparently covered with super-powered nerve endings that hadn’t done a goddamn thing his whole life, but came alive like ice and fire and bee stings as soon as Ian touched him. Wherever Ian touched him.

Sex was just sex to Mickey, for so long—but sex with Ian was on an entirely different plane of existence.

And the thought of Ian being like that with someone else, especially during that time when Mickey was locked up and there was a wall of plexiglass between them, a wall Mickey had put there himself when all he was doing was trying to protect Ian from Sammi’s bullshit; well, it made Mickey’s stomach churn.

Ian followed Mickey out of the bathroom and leaned on the doorframe of their bedroom, like he knew Mickey needed some space. “You and this Julio guy, you were like, together?”

Mickey kept his gaze downward as he put on a wrinkled shirt. “Hell yeah, man. We lived in a shack by the beach, fucked all day long. You don’t know everything about me, Gallagher.”

“I guess not.” Ian mused, still looking like he half didn’t believe Mickey. “So, uh. This Julio guy. You’re saying he has a piece of your heart?”

“Oh yeah, a big ol’ chunk of it. You aren’t special, Gallagher. In fact, he might have a bigger piece than you do, with all the fucking bickering we’ve been doing lately,” Mickey spat out as he pulled on his shoes.

Ian rolled his eyes, but sensing Mickey’s tension, he kept talking. “Mick, you know I didn’t mean it. You have the majority of my heart. The vast majority.”

Mickey scoffed, feeling more pissed off than ever. “Oh, yeah? How much is that, exactly?”

“I don’t know… 87%?”

Mickey looked at Ian, charging up for a fight. “Fuck you. That’s not enough.”

“It is enough, Mick. I’ve been with so many people I can barely remember their names. You know what it was like at the club. That’s 87% for you, and 13% for every other meaningful connection I’ve ever had in the years we were apart—that seems pretty stacked to me.”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on you, motherfucker, because you don’t even have that much of my heart, anyways. In fact, maybe I’ll go back down to fucking Mexico and see if Julio’s still around.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Mick, calm down. You don’t mean that.”

“I do, asshole. Excuse me for thinking I had your whole heart, instead of pissing away 13% of it while I was locked behind bars and tattooing your fucking name onto my chest.” Mickey turned to where Ian was blocking the doorway. “You gonna let me through?”

Ian sighed, gently putting a hand up to Mickey’s chest to stop him from barreling past into the hallway. “Okay, listen, all that shit came out wrong. You know you’re the only one that matters.”

Mickey looked at Ian’s hand on his chest, then looked up and to meet Ian’s gaze. “Do I?” he said, in a softer voice than he realized.

Ian smirked, and let his arms glide up Mickey’s chest and around his shoulders, locking him in close. “Hey. Of course you are. You’re the only one I ever wanted to be with forever.”

“Fuck you,” Mickey said earnestly, but he didn’t try to shake himself from Ian’s grasp.

Ian let his hands roam up to cradle the back of Mickey’s head in his hands, making sure he had Mickey’s undivided attention. “Listen. All those people, like Ned or Kash or whoever, they were all an important part of me becoming who I am, and nothing can change that. But they’re all a part of our love story, Mick. They’re all… minor characters, on the path of me getting to marry you.”

Now Mickey was the one rolling his eyes, his tough exterior finally starting to melt. “Yeah, okay softie.” His eyes flickered downward, in one last moment of vulnerability. “It’s just… it’s hard to forget all the stuff I missed out on, all the time we both coulda had. Time where you were with other people and not me.”

Ian pecked Mickey’s forehead, holding him in close. “Yeah, well, we have plenty of time now. Almost too much time. So much time that we’re ripping each other’s heads off.”

Mickey leaned back, and smirked. “Well, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we can do with all that time on our hands, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian leaned in closer, Mickey’s face millimeters from his. “Oh yeah?”

As Mickey leaned in to close the gap between their lips, he felt the nerve endings all over his body going fucking crazy again—maybe it had been a bumpy path for them both, and maybe he’d lost some of Ian along the way, but he couldn’t deny that this was worth the wait.

[so-i-dont-forget-again]

So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 211: Zora’s Domain

 I went out with some fishermen for training today. They taught me a lot and we got such a huge haul! Nets are used to carry everything back. Sidon also came by and helped us. I was given one of the larger fish for being helpful, particularly for my eyesight. I can’t see too well the deep waters since it can get dark, but if fish are near the surface, I can spot them even quite a ways down the river. Sidon wondered just how far my eyesight goes, he wanted to test it right away by him swimming upriver, but that wouldn’t test me. He’s just so bright, I could spot him from anywhere. Besides when I’m out here I’m always keeping an eye out for you specifically. I think a better test would be using an arrow as my target! It’d be more fair since I need to be able to spot distant enemies and not just you.

*I still think we could have tested you there. Even if you are ever vigilant to spot me that changes not your eyesight.

Yeah, but I’m always looking for you. I’m trained find you, not other things so spotting you is different to a fish or an arrow or danger.

We cooked lunch together. I’m not used to handling big fish, but I think I managed. The pieces wouldn’t fit on regular plates, but Sidon found this large one.

*It’s usually reserved for gatherings and holidays, but I thought it appropriate to use for this occasion. And  your dish was so beautiful, it would have been a shame to hack up your work!

We ended up sharing from the same plate. Sidon wanted to feed me pieces from his fork. King Dorephan spotted us and said it was good to see his son had such a bright, youthful love, and recalled how him and his wife used to do the same. When Sidon asked if we could hear more tales the king smiled and asked if Sidon just wanted date ideas. You got so flustered and admitted you did but you also would like to hear more of her.

*Father is the king and much busier than I, so I understand why he could not stay long but it is a little disappointing. I’ve heard much of my sister but not much of my mother. I’m not even sure if she’s even passed on. All I am sure on is that she’s not around. Generally, we only have one ruler, even if they have a spouse, unlike Hylians for who the spouse also becomes a ruler. It would have been nice to hear such tales of romance.

*But the past, is just that, the past. I have you here in my arms, and we may make our own tales of such things.

Like you getting embarrassed for getting caught on our ‘secret date’?

*Oh shush you! Or do I need to do so myself with a kiss.

*The

DON’T YOU DARE WRITE FLOWERY ABOUT GETTING ME TO BLUSH AGAIN!

Sidon took me to the cliffs around the domain. There is a storehouse of crystals to use for working with, but Sidon thought I should see how crystal is gotten.

Diamond tools are used since diamonds are one of the strangest gems. To get small crystals a chisel and hammer are enough. I asked Sidon if he’s worried the crystal would ever run out one day. Turns out there’s a lot more underwater than up here.

You really could just live solely underwater and away from everybody else. Honestly you all being on land might be a detriment, you could just leave Hyrule and avoid the danger, but you still stay. Unlike everyone else, you have a choice. You believe this place can be saved. I can’t let you down. I don’t want you to regret believing in me.

*Link, even should we fail, not a thing can or would be regretted. This is our home, no place else is, and we intend to protect it till the end. You’re still forgetting.

*You are not in this alone my friend. Please, you can rely on me.

Chalk is used to make lines or writing on the crystal. It has to be chiseled down in chunks. You have to be extremely precise, one wrong move can cut the crystal in such a way where you can use it for what you want, like accidentally cutting too deep and taking a chunk out of what you wanted to keep, or even leave a crack. There are also many different chisels for what you want to do like taking out flatter chunks or for making intricate details. We were able to get the basic shape, but Sidon wanted to leave making the teeth of the comb for tomorrow since that will be much more delicate and need much time to work with it and make sure a mistake isn’t made.

*The next part shall take extreme precision to get right. Aside from all that though, you were of great help. I was able to concentrate without having to avert my attention to find the right tool.

I’m glad. It was fascinating watching you work!

After dinner you asked me if you could stay with me for the night. You seemed a little odd or stiff though.

*I like knowing you’re getting rest. I realize I too have been worrying you over the same thing so we may place the other at easy by being together. I also find it easier to still my mind and sleep when with you.

*That’s a reason.

*I want to be with you. Alone. No work, no interruptions, no others catching us and adding their own speculations or comments. I find myself feeling this irritable budding annoyance of sorts when others appear lately. I love my people but I never know when next I’ll see you so when I do get the chance I want to give my undivided attention to you. And… I’m finding I wish the same of you when I know that simply cannot be. You always have something to do, things that need your attention other than I, I know as much as you love me, your top priority is saving this land of ours. I long for another night back in Tarry Town, you with me solely. Just you and I together, doing whatever we could want. Things others don’t need to be privy too. They need not hear our words of love, these ones are solely for you and no other, the sight of my hand in yours is only one for us to behold.

*I don’t like this jealously that’s taking root in my heart, in my love for you.

You’re silly.

Just ask when you want more affection, anytime, anywhere. And if you’re worried about your promise, you are doing more than enough to gain my heart.

*And I am doing that just now! And NO I am not! I have yet to take you on proper dates as of yet! And I will! I shall sweep you off your feet show you just how much I have fallen for you!

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[oneshot-wxnderland]

Ladies Love a Hero | Peter Parker

summary: Y/n builds a device that will help the Avengers win a battle and Peter is charged with protecting her while she uses it.

category: fluff

_____________________

          “So that’s your big plan? Keep shooting at it’s invulnerable skin until something happens?” Steve asked, pausing in his pacing to give his teammate an exasperated look.

          “It’s not completely invulnerable. One of my arrows nicked it,” Clint defended his weak plan, but it was the only plan they had so far. “Unless you can come up with a better one.”

          This had been going on for the past half hour and Peter was about to jump out the window. Everyone bickering and shooting down ideas faster than they came up. At this point he was just plain tired of the giant interdimensional monster that kept popping up and wreaking havoc on the city. It had everyone on edge and Peter just wanted this meeting to be over so that he could go see Y/n. 

          He happily tuned out the Avengers’ arguments to think about Y/n. She was incredibly smart, which was a given since she was one of the top scientists at Stark Industries and she was only Peter’s age. And she was beautiful. The first time Peter met her she was hunched over a microscope and when she stood up to look at him... he couldn’t breathe. Since then he came up with every excuse he could to go talk to her, even though most of the time he was too nervous to get more than a few words out.

          Tony noticed the dreamy look Peter only got when he was thinking about Y/n and rolled his eyes.

          “Hey, lover boy,” Tony snapped in Peter’s direction and made him jump. “National crisis here.” 

          Peter flushed as red as his suit and muttered an apology before the conversation continued without him. 

          “Well, we need to make a decision now, that thing could come back at any minute.” 

          “I’ve got it!” Everyone’s attention turned to the door bursting open and a frenzied Y/n running in. Her hair was a mess and her lab coat was crooked and she had never looked more beautiful to Peter. 

          “What is it?” Tony took the device from Y/n’s outstretched hand and inspected it.

          “The key to beating this thing,” Y/n declared, out of breath. Everyone gave her their undivided attention, especially Peter, but only because he was interested in how to kill the monster, of course. “I studied the sample of what we thought was blood from Hawkeye’s arrow and discovered that it’s not the skin that is impenetrable, but a thin force field that acts as an armor. Then I engineered this thing,” she points at the small devise in Tony’s hand and he gives it back to her. “It’s like an EMP but instead of electronics it only targets that specific type of organic material and when it’s turned on it can wipe out the force field and boom it’s killable.” 

          The room was in stunned silence and Peter fought the urge to clap. Tony didn’t shower her in the praise Peter knew she deserved but the proud look in his eyes and small smirk on his face was all y/n needed.

          “What’s its range?” he asked.

          “The prototype only has a mile or two radius of maximum effectiveness but with a little more time I could get it to-.”

          Y/n didn’t get to finish her sentence before the tower shook, signaling the emergence of Mr. Big Bad in the city. 

          “No time for that, we’ll have to make do. How do you turn it on?” 

          Y/n answer was too complicated for Peter to understand but he didn’t like the grim look on Tony’s face. 

           “You’ll have to set it off yourself. We don’t have time for a crash course.”

          “She can’t go out there!” Peter’s outburst surprised the team since it was the first thing he’d said all night. 

          “She’s the only one who can turn on the device, we need her,” Tony’s answer was calm and distantly Peter knew it was the only way, but he couldn’t get past the idea of putting Y/n so close the the fight.

          “Within a mile of the alien? That thing can topple buildings twice as far with one swing we can’t just send her out there unprotected.” 

          “She won’t be unprotected, she’ll have you.” Tony stated and Peter couldn’t form an argument. “Y/n go get a carrier for that thing and meet Peter on the hanger.”

          “Yes, sir,” she said before hurrying off.

          Peter turned his gaze back on Tony who looked way too calm for what the situation called for.

          “You can do this, Peter, just take her to a rooftop in range and keep her from getting killed.” Tony knew how much Peter cared about Y/n and saw how this plan was freaking him out, so he winked and added conspiratorially, “And hey, the ladies love a hero.”

          This had the desired affect and Peter was shaken from hits fears and into a blushing mess as he tried to stutter out objections, but Tony wasn’t hearing it so Peter just left.

          When Peter, or rather Spiderman, walked onto the hanger he spotted Y/n making sure the carrier was secure across her shoulders and his nerves returned. 

          “Ready?” He asked and wasn’t sure whether he was, but her complete confidence in him made him feel like he could do anything.

          She stepped close to him. He tried to casually wrap his arm around her and was thankful that his mask hid his blush when she did the same. Y/n pulled him tight to her and nodded. “Ready.” 

          Peter never wanted this to end, he didn’t want Y/n to let go of him. Although he liked to think that she enjoyed being this close to him, her smile was most likely caused by swinging through the city.

          After they landed on a rooftop in range of the fighting, Y/n untangled her arms from around Peter’s neck, but he held onto her a little longer when she stumbled. 

          “You good?” He let go of her when she was stable.

          “Yeah,” she laughed. “Just takes some getting used to.”

          “Where should we set it up?” They surveyed the rooftop and Y/n hurried over to a radiator and gingerly set the device on it. 

          “Once this thing’s on it’ll only take a couple minutes to completely disarm the shield.” That raised some red flags for Peter.

          "Will it be able to trace it back to us?" They were only a mile away from the fight and that thing could easily close the distance fast.

          "We'll just have to hope that they can kill it before it does." That was reassuring.

          Y/n started the process of turning it on and Peter divided his attention between her and the fight. The team was doing a good job of keeping the monster from coming towards them but also not pushing it too far away. However it was clear that the thing didn't like being cornered since it was thrashing around more wildly than before.

          "There!" Peter looked back at the device that now had a green light on its screen. "It'll only be a little bit now before the alien realizes what's happening.”

         “Got it.” Peter began to survey his options for a hasty getaway. 

          A thunderous roar shook the ground and consequently the roof they were standing on and the alien started ripping up chunks of the roads to throw.

          “I think it’s working,” Peter stated, an intuitive observation. They watched as the Avengers took notice of their signal and doubled their attacks, striking the increasingly vulnerable monster with an array of blasts, punches, and arrows. Peter even let out a breath of relief when he saw the monster slowing down, but he jinxed it and instead of the monster focusing on fighting back, its attention moved to the source of its shield’s failure. Namely, them.

          “Incoming.” Peter rushed back over to Y/n. “We gotta go.”

          Y/n had only just stood up when Peter tackled her back down onto the roof just as a car flew over them. She looked up at Peter who was still on top of her, pressing her back into the roof surface of the roof, but she didn’t mind. She wished that he had his mask off so that she could be staring into his actual eyes instead of his suit ones. 

          “S-sorry,” he muttered when he belatedly got up off of her, mentally cursing himself for being such an idiot. Y/n must think he’s the weirdest creep ever, just pinning her down like that in the middle of a mission. He glanced back to her and was surprised by the red that was on her cheeks. She made a show of dusting herself off and checking on the device while Peter just stood there confused. 

          “Shit, the impact of the car messed with its sensors, it has to recalibrate.” She set to work on facilitating that process.  

          “Y/n that thing is going to be on us any second.” Peter’s attention was glued to the fight that was drawing ever nearer. Even if they managed to kill the beast before it reached them, the fall of its body could easily take out their building. “The damage has been done, let’s go.” 

          But even as he said it he could see the shield mending itself. The reinforced armor gave the alien a second wind and Peter winced as Iron Man got swatted out of the sky. Once that distraction was out of the way, its attention turned back towards them.

          “Y/n…” Peter warned as he walked backwards to her, careful to keep his attention on the beast.

          “It’s almost fixed.” The stern tone of her voice and the determined look on her face was almost a mirror image of the one Tony got when Peter knew better than to press the subject, but he was supposed to protect Y/n and he’d be damned if he didn’t. 

          “It’s my job to knock out the shield.” She refused to look away from the device but her glare was directed at him. “I’m not leaving.”

          “And it’s my job to keep you from getting hurt and you are not making that easy right now.” He crossed his arms and watched the fight, but didn’t move from her side. His head was screaming at him to get her to safety but he knew that she was right. They had to get that stupid device functioning so that the rest of the team could do their job. Still, he didn’t like just standing there and waiting for disaster. Every move the monster made towards them had Peter flinching to just grab Y/n and swing away whether she liked it or not.

          “Got it!” Peter didn’t need her to tell him that though, the scream coming from the alien was notifying enough.

          “Good now let’s go.” 

          Y/n was still hesitant to leave but she stood up and faced him.“You go, I should stay and make sure it doesn’t get damaged again.”

          “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

          “Then I guess we’re both staying.”

          “Dammit Y/n this is not up for debate. We have to go now!”

          Their argument distracted them both from the battle. It was only when Peter’s spider sense kicked into action that he crushed Y/n to his chest and turned them around so that the chunk of concrete flying their way hit him instead of her. The pair was knocked off their feet and Y/n rolled away from where Peter lay unmoving.

          “Peter?” Y/n called once she recovered from having the wind knocked out of her. She propped herself up on her elbows but quickly snatched them up, hissing from the sting of scapes along her arms. The ringing in her ears aided in her disorientation as she looked around, but when her eyes landed on Peter she ignored the protests from her cuts and ran over to him. “Peter!”

          She rolled him onto his back and gently took his mask off. His eyes were closed and his body limp. She nearly sobbed in relief when she saw that he was still breathing, albeit barely, and cupped his cheek to bring his face over to her.

          “Y/n…” he whispered and it brought on a coughing fit.

          “Careful, you idiot,” she smiled through her tears when his eyes opened. “Who knows how many ribs you broke.”

          His hand raised weakly to her cheek and she held it there for him. He gave her a small smile as his thumb wiped away a tear.

          “I’m sorry,” Y/n said, blaming herself for his injuries. “I should have gone with you. I-I shouldn’t have tried to-.”

          “Hey.” Y/n expected him to say something along the lines of ‘it wasn’t your fault’ or ‘I’m just glad you’re okay.’ What she got instead was, “I told you so.”

          Y/n’s jaw dropped at the audacity of this boy. 

          “Are you kidding me? I’m sitting here crying because I thought you were dead and you have the nerve to say ‘I told you so’?” She fires at him and he scrunches up his face in an annoyingly adorable way.

          “But I did…” This time Y/n just laughed and let all the tension leave her body, grateful that she was still able to see him smile.

          “Shut up,” she laughed as she leaned down to his face. She gently pressed her lips to his and Peter forgot all about his broken and bruised body, and when he heard the Avengers finally defeat the alien he was able to fully lose himself in her kiss. The kiss that he had dreamed about for so long. 

          When they finally parted to breathe, Y/n rested her forehead against his and he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

          “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Hearing those words come from Y/n almost made him laugh in disbelief, if only laughing wouldn’t have hurt so bad. To think that Y/n, the smartest and prettiest girl he knew (he would even argue on the planet) had wanted him just as much as he wanted her. He had pined after her for forever, never thinking that he had a chance, and here she was.

          “I think I might have an idea,” he muttered and pulled her back down for another kiss.  

[gofancyninjaworld]

2020 in One-Punch Man. Part 1: Manga

How shall I describe this succinctly?

It's like ONE and Murata looked around them, saw a raging pandemic, massive disruption to all walks of life, uncertainty of when, if, or how it might affect them, took a massive drag of their cigarettes and said: “Fuck being conservative.  Let's go wild. Fuck making our current arc a webcomic retread with fancier fights.  Let's introduce more lore, let's have more characters interact in ways one would never have imagined, let's have characters do things that hadn't previously been thought of and make this really exciting.“

If you were holding onto the webcomic as your guide to what next, 2020 was not a good year for you. 

723 pages in 24 updates (including revisions) changed the status quo ante in deliciously unanticipated ways!

Where we left off in 2019, we were following the webcomic pretty faithfully, with most manga-original elements being removed at a fast clip.  Phoenixman was dead, the mercenaries had died a brutal death, the ninjas had been resurrected but had run off buck naked, Orochi was dead, G5 was very much destroyed, Drive Knight had appeared but had obligingly limped off, taking Nyan with him.  The S-Class heroes were in trouble with the cadre exactly as expected and Saitama had met up with Flashy Flash.  Tatsumaki had finally found Psykos. Yup, no real changes here.

2020, HAHA! 

Awaken!

Throwing manga-specific elements away? As if!   They took the great opportunity that preparing chapters for publication to critically review and revise the story so as to first, make it move at a faster pace and second, to be enriched.   It’s meant that chapters for volume 22, 23, and 24 (to come) have been redrawn to accommodate the changes and we got the benefit of many of them between April and August of this year.

We started with Phoenixman’s fight with Child Emperor.  It started innocuously enough with Phoenixman resurrecting, but then we got a much more interesting chunk of knowledge -- the existence of a metaphysical world modelled on one’s on psyche where the assault on Child Emperor’s sense of self took a much more existential nature. 

From a purely physical battle (and some nifty cool info about the Subterraneans) to an otherworldy battle happening in parallel with the physical battle:

It ended up a very interesting examination of Child Emperor’s character and his relationships with other heroes, as well as telling us something else freaky about Saitama’s ability to be anywhere he damn well wants to be.

Ah, and Phoenixman lives. Albeit as a little chick (for now).  He’ll probably be back, but not just yet.

The mercenaries were next.  They didn’t die.  Not because Amai Mask had a change of heart, but because Iaian listened to the niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach and turned his team mates around to intervene just in time. 

As you’d expect, trying to guide the mercenaries back to the safety of the surface has been an incredibly challenging ordeal for the disciples. It’s revealed much more about the way the disciples trust each other and lean on one another, and yet, when there was no option to do so, Iaian stepped up wonderfully to fight to save the mercenaries.

We’ve also learned something interesting about why mercenaries exist at all in a world supposedly at peace.  I look forward to seeing where this plot might go next.

Elsewhere,  we got to learn a little less about Puri Puri’s dancing and swimming lessons, but we got some really awesome nods to the mythical in Bakuma (the baku is a long-nosed creature formed out of all the bits left over after creation that eats dreams) and Electric Catfish Man’s sudden sense of doom is both reference to the way catfish are supposed to detect earthquakes and just damn cool. 

A monsterised exploitative business man taking the form of a demonic dream-eating monster that consumes weaker monsters so as to exploit their abilities is so appropriate on many levels (and unreasonably hot!).

Yes, Waganma does make it to the surface, along with Saitama and Child Emperor.  Saitama gets chased away by a Sekingar outraged that there’s a clueless hero just wandering aimlessly around.  Child Emperor goes back underground and I loved to death Waganma being pierced with remorse as he realises that the hero is going to go risk his life anyway.   He’s spoiled, but his keeping quiet came from a place of being a scared human being desperate to be saved  (a surprising number of fans did not like that -- they preferred to think of him as a psychopathic monster incapable of remorse).

Orochi still has a date with a gloved fist, but he’s getting to live a little longer than he did before.

Overall the story is tighter and there’s a lot more interest as well as future plot hooks than there were.  I’m interested in seeing how it gets tied up in the next volume sometime in 2021.

Reddit did not take it well.  Summary of discourse:

sorry not sorry, I lost patience around the 500th whiny post

Advance!

What about the new chapters we got?  Also here, ho ho ho, that status quo has gotten a good kicking!

Orochi came back.  Not the most surprising surprise in the world, given how carelessly Saitama punched him. Also not surprising that he came back stronger; Phoenixman had wonderfully demonstrated that monsters can bounce back from near-death situations much stronger.  But his form... such a disgusting, slimy, ever-shifting mass of tentacles and dragons, consuming all in its way led to the third craziest development: his fusion with Psykos to launch a new monster.

I’ll spare you the disgusting intermediate stages but the end result has been the birth of Psykos-Orochi and with that, what had been a total sweep for Tatsumaki turned into a much more dangerous enterprise where every mistake of hers got punished brutally.

Why is that only number three?  Because Tatsumaki raised up the entire base to try to encompass the whole monster (and it turns out that she was thinking far too small -- the monster had actually eaten large sections of City Z) and Psykos-Orochi uses the space to launch a beam so powerful that it literally cuts off part of the Earth itself.  It was a real I see it, but I don’t believe it moment.

if you didn’t spend a few seconds just staring in disbelief, you’re not paying attention. OMG.  Boy is the Earth in trouble.

Why is that only the second craziest thing?  Because of why this fusion monster was able to do as it did. ‘God’ doesn’t just go round looking like a semi-tangible being giving random homeless men magic powers.  Yup, the Earth really in in trouble if some supernatural being is smushing monsters together to make a stronger one and then granting it extra powers.   Just like that, the struggle has turned cosmic.

Tatsumaki trying to figure out how to fight back and save City Z from being swept away by a tsunami, save the heroes, and save the planet from further damage by the beams all at the same time was one of the most spectacular fights to date. 

As I said earlier, this monster has presented Tatsumaki with a real fight where the slightest mistake on her part leads to severe punishment.  She wound up in trouble when she underestimated how extensive the monster actually was and let up on twisting it too early, only to have it come right back and skewer her hands. 

Thankfully, Genos came in and saved her from that pinch, then held the monster at bay long enough for Tatsumaki to finish saving the strike team so she could give the monster her undivided attention.

Which is a very tame way of saying that that was an incredible development in capability.   That some of the fandom had trouble accepting (they suck). Watching their protests has been an exercise in special pleading.  They have no trouble understanding how Murata uses scale...until it came to accepting the size of the explosion resulting from Genos smacking away Psyko-Orochi’s execution beam then it had to be a fisheye lens (visibly incorrect, but who’s talking facts here?).   Have had no trouble understanding how Murata portrays escalation... until it came to accepting that Genos is strong then no, somehow the monster had to be weaker.   Have had no trouble with the freeze frame language that Murata uses to portray things happening at great speed... until it came to accepting that Genos could move really, really fast.   For some people, the new is only welcome when it confirms and validates preconceptions.  Anyway, that’s my rant done!

the most unlikely of partnerships and they’re still going despite having taken a hell of a battering since this scene

Guess who’s back?

We’ve also been seeing more heroes come back to the fray.  The emergence of the Tower of Doom acted as a clarion call to every hero around and able to move.  Metal Bat sneaked out of hospital to come running back.  Tank Top Master hitched a ride with Mumen Rider to go to City Z.  He intended to stick around and save people, but seeing how much wider scale the fight was,  he literally threw himself into battle. 

Drive Knight decided he literally had to have a piece of the action,  took up a ton of power from the nearest substation and came flying in to intercept a desperately escaping Psyko-Jet... ah, I didn’t say?  Yes, the monster turned into a machine to run away once hard-pressed.

And we finally got to see what Blast actually looks like, courtesy of a flashback of Amai Mask’s.   He definitely looks the part of a caped superhero and it’s little wonder he’s stuck in the imaginations of so many.   But now I’m even more interested in seeing what his deal is and what is he’s like now

The one thing we know for sure will be happening is that Garou will not be denied his destiny.   He’s coming.  But what else is happening?  Ah, that’s all in the air.

Bring on 2021!