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idrkwhatthisisimsorry · 5 months ago

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Gold Rush

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve and reader are just two idiots in love who doesn't think the other one likes them back

Warnings: fluff, idiots in love, slight angst, slight reader insecurity

Word Count: 3,406

A/N: okay so i haven’t written in a REALLY long time, but i’ve been on a steve kick lately and just wanted to write something so 😍

You were tired of it. So sick and tired of it. You’ve been alive for over two full decades and you still have never managed to have a boyfriend. Not that you were particularly desperate for one, but when everyone around you managed to have been in a relationship at one point in their life, it made you feel a little left out. It’s gotten to the point where everyone just kind of assumes you aren’t interested in a relationship, which isn’t true. You’re just bad at finding one. You’ve had small one-night things, but it seems like every time you get close to a man beyond a hook-up, you somehow manage to make the conversation utterly and completely platonic to the point where you’re just always the best friend. And this is where Steve Rogers comes in.

You’ve known Steve for about 3 years, ever since you joined the team. Steve, to say the least, is a pretty intimidating guy when you first meet him. He’s super tall and sweet and cute, all the things you would want in a guy. But because he’s so perfect, approaching him seemed way too scary. For the first couple months of knowing him, the two of you would only exchange simple pleasantries as you crossed paths. A nod of the head, a wave, or a quick “hi” was all you were able to get out. But you wanted more than that.

Eventually one day, you got the courage to say something to him.

You were sitting in the kitchen, reading a book and sipping your coffee when Steve walked in. It looked like he had just gotten out of the gym, he was wearing some athletic shorts and a Dodgers tee that was entirely too small on him, but it gave you something to talk about.

“Dodgers fan?” You asked him, hoping it would start some kind of conversation. He turned around, looking almost shocked that you said something to him that wasn’t just hi. He chuckled a bit before saying, “Yes, ma’am. I do miss them being in the city, but you’ll never catch me trading them in for the Yankees.”. He smiled at you, obviously expecting a response. You panicked. You hadn’t thought this far. He was supposed to ask you a question or something. In your idiotic panic, all you could manage to get out of your mouth was, “I’ve honestly never watched a single baseball game in my life.” Which was true, but why did you have to say that now? But apparently Steve wasn’t as offended by this as you thought he would be, and he tipped his head back and just laughed. Steve Rogers was laughing at you. With you? You had no clue. You just dropped your head into your palms, expecting him to walk out at your comment. “No offense, doll, but you don’t exactly strike me as the baseball fan type, so I’m not entirely shocked.” He said, just smiling at you. You were absolutely not going to open your mouth again, because obviously it wasn’t attached to your brain and you didn’t want to look even more idiotic in front of literal Captain America. It got to the point where both of you were just kind of staring at each other in silence before Steve finally broke the tension. “So… reading is more of your style, then?” He said, gesturing to the book you had sitting in front of you. “Uh, yeah, pretty much. It’s like all I do in my free time.” You said, with a slight smile on your face. “I love reading, too. Kind of hard to adapt from books from 70 years ago to the books now, but I’d say it’s definitely one of my favorite pastimes. What are you reading?” You were kind of holding a conversation with Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers. Your kind of crush. You don’t know if you can even call it a crush when the longest conversation you’d even had with him was currently happening, and so far was only about 5 sentences long, but it was happening. “Oh, um, it’s called Daisy Jones and the Six. I've actually read it a few times already, but it’s my favorite so I felt like reading it again.” You said as you smiled up at him sheepishly. “Oh, I’ve actually heard of that one. Good enough for multiple re-reads, huh?” “Oh, one-hundred percent. It takes place in the seventies. Such a shame you missed out on that decade, it would’ve been interesting to see you in bell bottoms.” And there it was again, that laugh. He tipped his head back once again and just laughed. “Is that a good laugh or an ‘oh my god this girl needs to shut up laugh’” Steve stopped laughing, and looked at you confused. “No, of course not. You’re funny.” A confused smile spread across his face. “Sorry, it’s just kind of weird figuring everybody out here and making friends. You’re all way too cool for me, I feel like I’m trying to fit in with the popular kids.” You gave a shy laugh, and he returned it and then crossed the kitchen in front of you. “Well you’ve got one here. Being a tiny kid in Brooklyn, I get how weird it is to go from being on the outside, to being right here on the inside. Wanna make a deal?” He said, holding out his hand. You looked down at his outstretched hand, and then looked back up at him before asking, “What kind of deal?” He just smiled before saying, “A friendship deal. Whenever you need someone to talk to or to hang out with, or just someone to read in the same room with, you’ve got me.” You smiled even brighter and took his hand and shook it. “Done. And this deal includes you not judging my weak handshake.” He just threw his head back again and laughed. And that’s when you fell in love with Steve Rogers.

Being in love with Steve Rogers was a problem. Being in love with Steve Rogers for three years and only being a best friend was an even bigger problem. Steve was the perfect guy, which was the issue because everyone else had the same sentiments, but you were too scared of rejection to do anything about it. You knew everybody wanted him, but last year was when it really hit you.

As you finished getting ready, you picked up your tote bag, ready to go to your favorite bookstore. You thought it might be fun for Steve to come with, but as you headed for your door to go ask him, there was a knock. You opened your door to see Steve standing outside of it. “Hey Steve, what’s up?” You asked him, a smile on your face. “I was just coming to see if you wanted to do something?” He said, looking down at your outfit, seeing you were already dressed to go. “But if you already have plans, that’s totally fine.” He said with a small smile on his face. “No, I was actually just about to come ask you if you wanted to go to the bookstore with me?” You gave him a small smile back, and raised your eyebrows in question. A big smile spread across his face as he nodded and gestured his arm in front of you, suggesting for you to lead the way. You smiled up at him and stepped past him through the door.

Walking with Steve was always nice because it meant you had something to do while you talked. You and Steve had grown pretty close since your conversation you had in the kitchen a couple years ago, but you still got nervous and fidgety sometimes when you were around him because, well, you were still in love with him. So walking and talking was just easier than sitting around and talking. “So why do you need more books?”He said as the two of you walked down the sidewalk. “I always need more books, you know this, Steve.” He gave a small chuckle and turned to look at you, stopping on the sidewalk. He didn’t say anything, and just looked at you. You gave him a look, confused why he was putting your walk on a halt. You raised your eyebrows and asked him, “What?”, laughing a little bit. “You’re just so b-” Before Steve could finish his sentence he was interrupted.

One of the most beautiful girls you had ever seen just so happened to walk up to Steve, not even glancing in your direction. She was tall, blonde, beautiful, and more confident than you could ever think to be. Before you even had time to react to her, she was beaming up at Steve and talking to him. “Hi, sorry, I know this is kind of weird, but I just saw you from across the street, and wanted to come introduce myself. I’m Jen.” She said, batting her eyes up at him. “Oh, um, hi, I’m Steve, this is y/n.” He introduced the two of you, and smiled over at you as he said your name. Usually you loved when he said your name. The way his deep voice came out as he said ‘y/n’ always gave you butterflies in your stomach, but hearing him say your name because he was introducing you to a beautiful girl, who was so clearly interested in him, just made you feel like the gum on the bottom of your shoe. When Steve introduced you, you put on a fake smile that wasn’t even seen by her, as she clearly didn’t care about your presence, and kept her gaze focused on Steve. “Well, if you’re free sometime, call me.”She put on a sweet smile and grabbed his hand to put a small slip of paper, most likely with her number on it, in his hand. Before he could even respond, she turned away, but not before throwing a wink over her shoulder at him. And that’s when you realized if Steve Rogers could have girls like her, why would he want you?

“Nat. I need you to set me up on a date or something. I need serious romantic help, I’m tired of it.” After battling with your feelings for Steve, you figured it was finally time to move on. You and Steve were as close as you could possibly be at this point, and you hadn’t made any progress past friendship, and it was breaking your heart. You kept holding out hope, but if Captain America wasn’t going to make a move on you, it was never going to happen, and he just clearly wasn’t interested. You couldn’t keep pining over a man who didn’t want you. You were tired of setting unrealistic expectations for yourself, and decided to finally take Nat up on her offer of setting you up with someone.

“Finally! I’ve been trying to set you up for years, what finally cracked you?” She said excitedly. Nat had been trying to set you up pretty much since the day you stepped into the tower. Once you and Steve started becoming friends, he helped you get more acquainted with everyone else on the team, and Natasha was one of the first. Which was another reason you fell in love with him. He cared so much about your wellbeing, and he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable and welcome where you lived, and you would be forever grateful for that. But that’s what friends do, and in your lovestruck haze, you decided to see it as him caring about you the same way you cared about him.

“Nothing in particular, I think I just need a change, I guess.” You said, trying your best to give her a genuine smile. She just beamed back at you, “Well, I’m super happy you’re finally giving in. I will find the perfect guy for you, I promise.” She said, hopping off the stool she was sitting on and walked away with her eyes glued to her phone, typing away.

–

Later that night you were sitting on the couch reading, while Steve sat on the other side of the couch with you. You heard him close his book and sit it down on the table beside him. You looked up from your book to him as he opened his mouth to say something. “Hey, uh, what are you doing tomorrow night?” He asked you, a shy smile on his face. Most of your plans consisted of spending time with Steve, and as you were about to tell him that, Natasha bounded into the room.

“I can tell you exactly what she’s doing tomorrow night.” Nat said, with a mischievous smile on her face. You had a feeling you knew exactly what she was going to say, and even though you asked her to set you up on a date, the last thing you wanted to happen was for her to tell you about a date she set you up on in front of Steve. “She’s going on a date. With Jack from the 7th floor. He’s so cute, y/n, you’ll love him. He loves books, and you guys have the same taste in music, I can’t wait.” She said, almost giggly. “You can’t wait for my date?” You said, laughing at her last statement. “Well, I’ve been trying to set you up for years, god forbid I get excited you finally said yes.” She said, rolling her eyes at you. “You’re going on a date?” You looked at Steve as he asked the question and gave him a nervous smile. “Um, yeah, I am. I finally took Nat up on her offer.” You said, throwing in a small laugh, trying to dissolve the awkwardness. “Thanks, Nat, I appreciate it,” You smiled up at her as you said it, and started to stand, “I think I’m going to head to bed now, though. Goodnight, you guys.” You smiled as you walked away, not able to stand being in the same room as you and Steve both found out you had a date for tomorrow.

–

You couldn’t sleep. Of course you couldn’t sleep. All you could think about was Steve and what he might be thinking about your date. Did he care? Was he jealous? Was he just happy his best friend was finally going on a date? You didn’t want to be thinking about Steve, you wanted to be thinking about your date. Something you should be super excited for, but all you could think about was a certain captain.

In the middle of another battle with your blankets while tossing and turning, you heard a soft knock on your door. You’d been in bed for hours trying to sleep, so you thought you just imagined it, but you heard the same soft knock again. Curious who could possibly be knocking on your door this late, you finally got up to answer your door. You opened the door to see a very distressed looking Steve in your doorway. “Hey, what’s up?” You asked, concerned. “Can I come in?” You nodded, and opened the door wider for him to come in, and closed it behind him. “Is everything okay? I thought you’d be asleep by now.” He didn’t respond and just started pacing back and forth in front of you. “Steve?” Hearing his name made Steve stop his pacing, and turn to look at you. “Why are you letting Nat set you up on a blind date?” He asked, with an almost frantic tone to his voice. “What? Do you have an issue with blind dates or something?” You were insanely confused. Steve was the kind of person who was always happy for you no matter what, so him practically barging into your room to ask you why you were going on a date was really out of character for him.

“No, of course I don’t have a problem with blind dates. I have a problem with you going on a date. Y/n, I-” He cut himself off, looking down at the ground. You had no clue what to say, so you just stared at him, hoping he would finish his sentence. He looked back up from the ground, meeting your eyes. He walked towards you and didn’t stop until he was only a few inches away from you. “I can’t let you go on that date without telling you how I feel first.” As the words left his mouth, your eyebrows raised farther up your forehead than you thought possible. “W-what? What do you mean?” You asked, starting to think you were going crazy. This was starting to sound an awful lot like a confession, but Steve didn’t feel that way about you. There was no way. He saw you as his best friend, and that was it. He dropped his head down to his chest again, running his fingers through his hair as he let out a sigh. He slowly lifted his eyes again to meet yours. “Steve-” you began, but he cut you off. “I’m in love with you.” He said, sounding out of breath. Your eyes flew open. If you weren’t able to sleep before, you didn’t think you would ever be able to go to sleep. You couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t actually happening was it? There was no way Steve Rogers, Captain America, just told you that he was in love with you. It just wasn’t possible. You had to be dreaming, maybe you really did manage to fall asleep after all. If this was a dream, this was just cruel. “Y/n. Say something, please. If you don’t feel the same way, I understand, and we can pretend like this never happened. But I need you to say something. Please.” You stared at him for a second, almost paralyzed. “I- really?” was all you could manage to get out. It felt like the first time the two of you ever talked again. You were that same girl you were three years ago when you were stumbling over your words, trying to find the right thing to say to him.

“I’ve been in love with you from the second you walked in the tower. Of course I’m in love with you, y/n, how could I not be? I’ve fallen in love with every single part of you. Your laugh and how you make me laugh. I love how sometimes you almost seem embarrassed when you laugh, like you think you shouldn’t be laughing. I love when you smile at me, and I love when you say my name. I love seeing you fight and how powerful your mind is. I love your obsession with books and your need to buy ten more every time you finish one. I love that I’m the person you come to when you need to talk, or rant, or cry. I love being that person for you like you are for me. You’re so amazing, it almost hurts me, because I know that there is someone better out there for you. Hell, it’s probably that guy that Nat is setting you up with. But I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I let you go on that date without telling you how I feel. So yes, y/n, I really do love you.” Halfway into Steve’s talking tears began to form in your eyes. Not only did the man you’ve been in love with for years tell you he felt the same, but he did even more than that. He told you everything you’ve been longing to hear for years, and then some.

“Oh, Steve.” You said, with a shaky voice. And for the first time, you made a move. Steve put his heart out on the line for you, and all you wanted to do was kiss him, so you did. You closed the distance between the two of you and put both of your hands on either side of his face, and crashed your lips to his. Immediately, he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back.

You broke the kiss, pressing your forehead to his, and sighed. “I love you more than anything, Steve.” You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. This time, it was Steve who initiated the kiss.

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fluff #marvel fanfiction #mcu #natasha romanoff

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dear-angel-lacy · 14 days ago

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౨ৎ soooo, enemies to lovers? ౨ৎ

jschlatt x red sox fan!reader

★ warnings: swearing

★ a/n: recently acquired an insane schlatt hyperfixation and as a boston girly I just HAD to write something about it

-streaming with schlatt was your perfect world. you sort of got sucked into a friend group with him, charlie, and ted. you didn’t mind. you MORE than didn’t mind. and okay, yeah—maybe you we’re developing some feelings for jay too

-the only problem was… when you saw that stupid dark blue hat.

-i mean how could it not click for you? he was definitely from new york. had the accent and all. of course he was a yankees fan

“what’re you wearing?” you asked him through the camera of your discord call. “me?” jay pointed at himself. “yeah, you.” he looked down at his shirt and jacket before chuckling awkwardly, “what? do i look bad?” “no, no. it’s just… your hat,” you muttered, scratching your head. he paused, “what about it?” you slowly reached your arm out of frame, grabbing your own hat, instead yours had the famous red sox B on it. schlatt tsked and rolled his eyes jokingly, “you’ve got to be kidding me…” both you and ted giggled. you had new york over there outnumbered two to one. “i didn’t know you were from massachusetts?” ted said with a quirked eyebrow. “born and raised.” “fuck both of you,” schlatt stated, sitting back in his chair.

-from this moment onward anytime you knew you’d see jay, boom. new england mentioned.

-you don’t even like baseball that much, it’s just fun to get him all worked up

-it’s cinema, really. two lovers best friends on opposite sides of the biggest american sports rivalry? you might as well change your names to romeo and juliet.

-oh, and things don’t get any different when you actually do start dating

-your hat or jersey is missing? very very curios and mysterious indeed

-he will also definitely accuse his cats of being traitors when they start gravitating more towards you

-he will, in his own words: “convert you into being a true new yorker” the second you two move in together and make you “forget all that boston crap”

-and since it’s him? yeah, his efforts kind of do work.

#꒰ঌ𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒚໒꒱#jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt x reader #schlatt fanfic #schlatt x reader #jschlatt fic #jschlatt fluff #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt fic #schlatt fluff #schlatt headcanons #jschlatt fanfiction #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #schlatt imagine #schlatt fanfiction #jschlatt

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marstons-angel · 1 year ago

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the evening stretch | warm-up series.

ft. the prompts, nsfw / "dinner" / arthur morgan.

✧ tags : afab!reader + fem!reader outdoors sex, oral (f!recieving), reader is an outlaw, established relationship, desperate arthur morgan, 18+

✧ wc : 2.7k

✧ a/n : hello! this is part of a little warm-up series i do on my other blog where i pick three prompts and try to come up with something. i normally do them in a rut. im working on a commission and im super stuck so.

this actually landed on javier four times in a row but im being kind and sparing a friend so. here's mr. morgan.

✧ synopsis : arthur thinks the place between your legs would suit him quite nicely.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

Honest to God, Arthur's never been like this before.

He ain't all that pious to start, so perhaps the sentiment doesn't stretch as far as he would like it too. But it's true, all the same - that in all the lives he's lived, he's never experienced this much bone-deep desire for another human being.

Which is outright ridiculous, since right now you're just making supper. Dinner, you always clarify with that yankee accent. You're going to have dinner together, 'cause Arthur needs to eat. He works hard, according to you.

It's not much, but you're a better cook than Pearson. Even if that's not saying a whole lot. And you're insistent on making the man eat, always on his case about how it's hardly enough for a man his size.

Arthur can chalk it up to being that you love him, as you have told him foolishly many times. He's sure you're not gonna be happy with him in a minute since again - all you're doing is making dinner.

It's just... something. Something about you today. Dammit, he doesn't understand it neither. You've got a job together, and you and Arthur play convincing husband and wife since you practically are anyway. Arthur's been watching you today closely. You lie pretty. Smile with all your teeth, clever with a careful finesse and an honest knack for debauchery and indecency.

You love calling yourself an awful woman. Joking about dying an unweddable spinster given your crudity.

But Arthur likes it in you. Of you. Likes it so much he's done nothing but readjust his pants watching you squirm your way out of every difficult situation and sling the revolver on your hip like a tried-and-true gunslinger.

You're a fine woman to him. A fine one.

The fire crackles as you place a pot over the little flame of the faux stove. You've made a real dinner somehow - with some vegetables and creeping thyme and carefully butchery of meat. It smells good and you seem proud of it, stirring the thing with the sharp end of your knife. Careful not to scrape the pot.

Arthur watches the light glow orange on your face, carefully observing the way it shines on you. You don't look up at all when you speak.

"Gonna stare a hole into me, Morgan."

He feels something warm crawl up his cheeks. He scratches his beard instinctively, tucking his hat over his eyes.

"'m sorry," He says, unsure of how to cover for himself. "Been thinking about some things."

"Don't hurt yourself," You reply, sardonic and dry. Arthur adores you. He laughs to himself and feels warmed by the pleasant smile that seems to give you.

"I'll try. Ain't much used to thinking,"

"Penny for your thoughts, then Mr. Morgan." You reply, carefully moving the pot around so nothing burns. "Might help you clear your mind if you get some of it off your chest."

He's backed himself into a wall. Goddamn him and his big mouth. He hesitates, taking it off this time. Fidgety.

"Yanno, there ain't a lot women like you. Not that I've met at least."

You give him a look. Your lips pressed into a flat line, unimpressed by him.

"Is that so?"

He laughs to himself. "It is indeed. You're a real piece of work. 'Specially going around batting your lashes, making yourself out to be a housewife."

"Aw what, did you like seeing me all doe eyed?" You smile to yourself, teasing but not entirely insincere. "If it helps, since you're the fake husband, I'm only half-acting."

That makes him grin. Though you say it with confidence, the sincerity it makes you flush.

"It ain't that," Arthur says again, looking at your face for the second time in a few minutes. "Just that you're a fine woman to be around. What do they call it...resourceful. That's what I'm thinking of."

"Who taught you such a big word, Morgan?"

"Trelawny, I'd guess."

You laugh, loud and beautiful and Arthur smiles. You look at him from across the fire. "Well, I'm glad you like my company, Mr. Morgan."

"I do more than like it," He hums, offering a reprieve. He nods at you carefully, head tilted. "Come 'ere,"

Your eyes widen at him, but you don't deny him of what he's asking. For that he is awfully grateful. You're more than capable and much less than needy. There's victory in your deliberate desire for him, Arthur thinks. You want him enough to let him chase you.

You come sit by Arthur. You're a little awkward with him still but he don't mind. It adds to whatever he feels for you, sugar-sweet affection and all. You sit on your knees and Arthur turns his head looking at you.

Beautiful. Beautiful thing you are, really. He has a hard time finding the words to tell you.

He reaches up, hand cupping your face. You lean into the touch, palm resting on calloused hand. He adores you.

"And quit with the Mister Morgan nonsense. Drives me crazy."

"Arthur," You say, slow and deliberate. "You know you're looking at me like you wanna eat me."

'"Read my mind, then."

"Arthur," You repeat, scandalized. He would smile if he wasn't so serious. "We're supposed to be eatin' dinner. You got into a whole spat with them Leymone Riders just today. You need to recover,"

His smile widens.

"Lettin' me go down on ya will heal me just fine,"

You look at him exasperated. Arthur leans into your neck, placing chaste kisses down the line of your jaw. He kisses you just there - underneath your earlobe, knows it drives you crazy.

"Lay down, sugar. Help a poor, injured man heal."

You pull away from him with faux exasperation, fond smiling breaking your face.

"You can be such a dog some times, do you know that?"

"I'm afraid I do,"

You give him another unimpressed look, but you listen anyways. Arthur moves so you can lay down on the bedroll - his bedroll. He takes off his coat just before you lay your head, playing it underneath you to get you more comfortable.

"Dinner's gonna burn," You tell him, almost reflexively. He laughs as he looks at you, your hands folded over your stomach and flat. He laughs at you.

"Burn? You feeling warm?"

"Arthur!"

And he laughs again, catching your boot in his hand as you go to kick his chest lightly. He sets it back down as he stares at you. You're quite the sight. Adoration bubbles up into his throat, blooms out into a hum. The sound of crickets and owls and all sorts of night wanderers sound - but none are distracting enough to pry his gaze away.

"You're looking too much," You say, your voice a half tremble. He nods.

"Got too," Arthur hums, leaning forward into your space. You always smell good to him, some cross between soft earth, and sweet liquor and clothes left in the sun. Skin and salt and sweet. "Who knows how long I'll be around."

He presses his lips to yours gentle and you kiss him - but only once before pulling away. Your eyes suddenly serious, warm palm on his cheek.

"Don't say something so morbid. If you go, I go,"

"Sweetheart—"

"No buts." You affirm, pressing your thumb to his lip all serious. Your eyes meet and for a moment - just one minute, all he wants to do is stop time from moving. From stealing him from you in life at all. Even a few seconds, intolerable. "Don't feel to good to hear, does it? So don't say it."

"Alright, alright," He huffs, laughing against your neck. He kisses it again, right against your pulse - quickening under his teeth as he bites and scrapes. He mulls over how much he wants you, and how little time there is to do everything. "Jus' lemme...I dunno."

Now you're cheeky, smiling up at him. Lord above, you do something so terrible to him. "Now that's just not true, baby."

He laughs deep and raspy. It's not true, because he knows exactly what he's after.

Arthur lets his hands plane over your clothed body. He doesn't bother with the ritual of undressing you entirely - since the act doesn't deserve the intimacy. You do, maybe - but Arthur's head feels too foggy to do anything civilized. He has to settle for letting his hands grip the fabric of your skirt and push it until it bunches around your waist.

There's no real delicacy in it, save for the way your breath hitches as Arthur gives himself better access. He moves to lay on his stomach between your thighs. He wishes it were brighter to give him better view. He's seen it plenty but looking at your pretty pussy alone gets him harder than steel.

His hands go underneath every layer of fabric to undo the little tie of your undergarments. You squirm when Arthur takes them off, but you don't pull away.

It's pretty. Even with the dim light of just the moon and fire to let Arthur see it. What entices him mostly though is the scent, after a long day of riding out alone - there's something about the way you smell - sweat and all that makes the back of his mouth ache with want. Makes his teeth hurt just dreaming about it.

He doesn't let his animalistic urges take him yet. He knows you need the build up. His hand is soft as he grips onto your waist. He pulls your legs further apart and lets his lips brush the inside of your thigh. Starts at your knee and works his way up, his mouth burning hot - open kisses. You giggle at the sensation of his beard, but it's tamped down with lust Arthur knows like the back of his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sinful. He knows the way you liked to be touched so exactly, but the pace is set more by his desperation. It grows ten sizes listening to you sigh and huff, feeling your hands come down to touch his hair and play with it.

"Arthur," Your voice calls. Pleading. Wanting him. You're so good at making Arthur loose his composure with so little. It's hard to tease you as your voice clips off into a whine. "Arthur,"

"I've got you," He says, assured. He means it as much as he means anything he's ever said. He ain't a decent man, but this much he can say full ways. "I've got you, sugar. Ease up. Let me take care of you,"

And so you again, breathless - boneless and eager. You let Arthur into your space, and something about that. Something about you. His heart races, blood pumping through his body. It pulses in his ears, head swimming with nothing but praise for you.

You're a fine woman. You're a good girl. The best he knows.

Arthur can feel the way your clit pulses with want before he ever puts his mouth on you. Makes him chuckle, gloved hand resting on your navel. He uses his thumb to pull it back, before using both hands to spread you open. Then, in an act less then gentlemanly, spits on it hard. He watches it land, lewd as it drips between your fold. He laughs to himself.

Another pitchy call of his name and Arthur decides he's had enough fun to get him through the evening.

He kisses your clit first, thinks it's only gentlemanly. When your hips buck up trying to chase the feeling of his mouth - he laughs. His hands dig into your hips. You're soft, skin dimpling from just how tight he holds onto you.

When he finally gets what he wants, his own body lurches forward from want. He nearly slumps into the ground - half-way between relieved and utterly addicted. It's a sense of euphoria unmatched by the finest liquor or cigars money can be.

The taste of you fills his mouth as Arthur eats.

Arthur is not used to playing predator. Not interested in the act of devouring. You often compare him to some sort of herbivore. But there's something too hungry, too visceral, too primal for him to be anything but a coyote. A teethed thing, all screwed up from hunger.

He lets his tongue slip against the seam of your cunt, all the arousal collecting in his mouth. His senses flood with something heady, sweet but bitter and he groans shamelessly as a result. Spoiled by the taste and utterly debauched.

"Oh, god - Arthur, you're—"

Arthur is pleased by the way your words are cut off by your own moan. He slides his tongue back up, wet muscle firm as it lays flat against your clit. There's a slight twitch like it's asking for more attention.

Arthur is all to eager vtoo provide, closing his lips around the twitching bundle of nerves. He knows what you like. Learned over time just the amount of pressure he needs to suck with and the speed he needs to draw his tongue over your clit to get you right at the very edge of your orgasm.

He teases you to that pace. Slow increases in either or, until it's just at that perfect medium. Once he hits that spot, you always moan so pretty.

You shudder, your body lurching up as your hands get tighter in his hair. "Aah, fuck. Ngh, Arthur. Don't do this t'me."

You begging him not too makes him want to do it more. If Arthur were any less aroused, he would. But his brain can barely think up enough to stamina to do that. His own cock is strained against his work pants - hips instinctively rutting into the bedroll just beneath him. Silently seeking friction all while hoping he doesn't get enough to distract him.

It'd be a damn shame, he thinks - letting anything pull him from the taste of your pussy. From the smell of it, from the sight of it, from the feeling of you. Sticky, pulsing strings of arousal coating his tongue and turning all his thoughts to dust.

His cock throbs again as you rut against his mouth. Arthur pins you in place.

"Please," You say. A magic word he ain't much stronger than. "Please make me cum,"

You really are a good girl, the way you know exactly what makes him tick. Arthur moans into your cunt as he sucks and licks and eats. He'd die over it, and he does not mean it lightly. It's the only thing in the world he wants to do in the moment. He laser focuses on finding that sweet spot again.

And he knows he does when you start whimpering. Squirming and holding onto his soft brown locks and pleading for something you don't know about. He can feel how wet your getting - dripping along down his beard and face. Thick strings of your arousal stick and slide down his neck.

He's never been a messy eater, but you've been disproving many of his prior understandings of himself. He supposes it's only natural.

"Oh, baby," You say, not even his name. Arthur knows it's a warning that you're gonna cum. All he can do is encourage you. He hums into your soft, wet cunt and you groan again. "Fuck, Arthur. I'm gonna cum."

Arthur knows better. He doesn't do a thing but keep going. Lets you move and thrash and pull away but keeps you firm in his place and eats your pussy until you can barely think.

He knows the knot is untying before you do because of how much you squirm. When you cum, you cum hard. Your back arches up into a picture perfect curve, toes curling and hands tugging at his roots for purchase.

He can feel every pulse of desire as you finally do let go. You cry out, loud enough to startle any nearby critters. Your fingers grip tight at the base of his hair as the orgasm washes over you. It's just as magnetic as it was the first time.

He's sure that will always be true.

When Arthur pulls away from your pulsing, wet core - he can feel just how much of his lower face is sticky. He's sure you also know, if the way you laugh is anything to go by.

And he's not long to follow after. Not even a few seconds and he can feel something in pants tighten - a mess of white staining the front of the denim in an onset of lust damn near shameful. Is he a teenager again? Lord above.

Breathlessly, you look down at him after you've ridden your high out.

Pulling up Arthur by the collar, you look at him slowly and frown. You look impassioned and a little frustrated.

You kiss him tender after you've come too. Once, then twice, then a another time with your hand still drawn into a fist. Arthur grabs it closed, opening your palms before kissing the palm of your hands until you're no longer mad.

"Hate how good you are at that," You admit, a little drunk of the euphoria of all of it. "Make me feel so crazy."

Arthur beams at you unapologetic.

"It's good to be that with me, sweetheart." Arthur says, kissing the corner of your mouth. "Now how about you go and give me one more?"

You laugh breathlessly but don't go to stop him at all.

"Insatiable man."

"Only for you, my girl."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 smut #zero.arthur #this is OUTRAGEOUS. I WAS WARMING UP???#i need to sleep its nearly 8. jesus christ.#outlaws love letters

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obessedwithfictionalmen · 1 year ago

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You want my jacket?

John Egan X W.A.C! Reader

Summary: Y/n wants Bucky's jacket, but they have a little competition before...

Warning: Swearing/ sport inaccuracies (Wikipedia stats)/ use of Y/n/ flirting/ mention of erection/ kiss/ sexism (little bit)

Word count: 1.1k

The music was loud, Y/n and her friends made their way through the room, it was a party in their honor, and someone’s 25th mission. The W.A.C division Y/n was in just got transferred to Thorpe Abbotts. Y/n was a weather broadcaster, she was going to brief the men on the conditions they were going to fly. She liked her job, sure it was boring sometimes, but she got the insight on big mission and her job was important. She felt like she was truly having an impact on the war, not a big one, but still.

When John Egan learned that W.A.C were coming on the base, he was like every man on the base; excited. Unlike Buck, he didn’t have anyone to write to at home, he was single and loved woman! When his eyes stopped on Y/n, he knew that he needed to talk to her. Her uniform fitted her so good; her curves were highlighted, and he always loved woman with curves. So, when he walked up to her, he was a little nervous, but he tried to hide it.

‘’Hello ladies’’ he said, looking at all the woman, then he looked at the one he wanted. ‘’Hi, I’m Major John Egan, but please call me Bucky, what’s your name, gorgeous?’’ he flirted. Y/n blushed and hid a giggle. ‘’I’m Y/n, nice to meet you’’ she extends her hand for him to take. The other girls were a giggling mess. When Bucky took her hand, she felt something pass through them, maybe she was just nervous, but it felt weird. They went to sit at a table and Bucky ordered drinks. ‘’So, Y/n, what are you doing here?’’ he asked, looking at her. ‘’I’m the new weather broadcaster, so we’re going to see each other a lot’’ she flirted. Words of his reputation had got to Y/n’s ears, when the Colonel briefed them on the attitude of the men at the base, the woman were warned about Major Egan. Y/n was curious to see if his reputation was true. ‘’You’ll be Miss Sunshine?’’ he asked, with a grin on his face. ‘’Exactly, but with this English weather, I’ll be Miss Cloud, Rain and Fog’’ she joked. He laughed at her joke, he always thought English weather was shit. ‘’Maybe your presence will bring more sun over the base’’ he took a sip of his drink. Y/n tilted her head, before taking a sip of her drink.

‘’I highly doubt that, but hey I’ll probably die of cold, you on the other hand, you’re going to be okay with that beautiful jacket’’ she smiled. He looked at his jacket, then looked at her. ‘’You like my jacket?’’ he asked, with a crooked eyebrow. She nodded as she finished her drink. ‘’Yeah, they didn’t give us any jacket, they didn’t have the money for us’’ she chuckles. A wicked idea came to her mind, she was a fan of baseball, so was he… ‘’Okay, what about a quiz, on the subject of your choice, if I win, I get your jacket, if you win, what do you want if you win?’’ she says. ‘’I want a kiss’’ he grins. ‘’Then if you win, you’ll get your kiss. You in?’’ she asked. He nodded and called Curt, he was a fan of baseball and knew the Yankees. ‘’I’m on, and by the way, I hope your baseball knowledge is good, you know the Yankees, sunshine?’’ he teased. He was 100% sure he was going to win; nobody knew baseball as good as him, but that’s what he thought. Y/n was grinning like a devil, she was getting that jacket!

‘’Ok, last question since you’re both equal in points, Spud Chandler broke the record for what this season?’’ Curt asked. Y/n thought for a second and then took the apple, it was their buzzer. ‘’Y/n?’’ the room went silent; money was changing hands around the bar. Their little competition was the main entertainement right now, soldiers couldn’t believe that someone knew baseball better than Bucky. ‘’ Lowest earned run average in a season’’ she said, smiling. Curt pushed his tongue on his cheek before looking at other guys. ‘’That’s right, you officially win!’’ He exclaimed, making the woman and some guy’s cheer for her. Bucky’s jaw was on the floor, that woman knew baseball, was supporting the Yankees and she just beat him. Now he had to give her his jacket! Bucky looked at the woman, she was smiling proudly. He smiled as he shook his head. He went closer to her. ‘’Let’s get out of here, sunshine’’ he said, she nodded, and they went outside.

‘’How come you know that much about baseball?’’ he asked. They started to walk around the base. ‘’Weather girl wasn’t my original plan, I wanted to be a sport reporter, but because I’m a woman, it’s impossible, but I know a lot about sports’’ she explained. He thought he was dreaming; this woman was surreal. ‘’That was really impressive, even though you beat me, it was amazing’’ he said, he truly meant it, he was in awe before her. ‘’Thank you, but I think you owe me something’’ she grins. Bucky rolls his eyes before taking his precious jacket off. ‘’Take care of it’’ he said, before giving it to her. ‘’Can you help me put it on?’’ she asked. Her back was facing him, he helped her put the jacket on, smelling her perfume properly for the first time. She smelled good, too good, it was going to be stuck in his mind now. Seeing her in his jacket kina turned him on, he didn’t know why, but it was a problem. ‘’Thank you, Major’’ she smiled proudly. ‘’I wish I could say it's my pleasure, but that would be a lie’’ he said, laughing to hide his pain. Y/n giggled as they continued their walk.

‘’That’s me, I have to go to bed early. I’m waking up at 0500 tomorrow I have to do my job’’ she smiles. Bucky nods quickly, expecting her to walk to her building, but she stays in front of him. ‘’Since we were equal, it’s only fair that you get your part of the bet’’ she says. Before he could process what she meant she quickly kiss him on the lips. By the time he acknowledges what just happened, she’s already at the door. ‘’Good night, Bucky, thanks for the jacket’’ she says, his name sounding like a prayer on her lips. ‘’Good night sunshine’’ he said. She blew him a kiss before entering the building, with his jacket on her. Yep, his problem was definitely growing more…

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner imagine #master of the air #john egan x reader #master of the air imagine #major john egan #john egan

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notquitecanon · 1 year ago

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Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys.

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag. Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit.

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went.

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system.

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you."

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?"

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch."

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy."

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle.

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe.

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up."

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady.

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?"

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin. Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked.

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you.

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince.

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin.

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church?

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it."

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that.

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through.

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist.

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.”

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.”

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey.

“You barely know me, sweetheart.”

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment.

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.”

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips.

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features.

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.”

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head. You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.”

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless. Two sides of a balanced scale.

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

#matt murdock x reader #Daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock x y/n

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siribaes · 1 year ago

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WHO’S BETTER THAN ME?

RIO x blackfem!reader (oc - Angel)

“After their breakup a decade ago, Rio reunites with high school sweetheart making up for lost time—”

PARING: Exes to Lovers / Past High School Sweethearts

SUGGESTED TUNES 💿: Tu Principe by Daddy Yankee, What You Want by Ma$e & Total, Throwback by Usher & Jadakiss, Thugman by Tweet & Missy Elliott, Only U by Ashanti

CONTENTS: 18+ MDNI, SMUT, or*l (fem receiving), f*ngering, praise k*nk, slight possessive k*nk, Rio being a bedroom bully lol, some light use of Spanish, makeup s*x, cursing, etc. (UNEDITED/ NOT PROOF READ) / GIF CREDIT: @blackisblackisblack

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this was supposed to be a drabble but turned into a full-blown fic, but anyway LOL. so i did a lil AU for rio, essentially he pulled a griselda blanco moved operations to Long Beach (Rio is so west coast coded to me) but yeah, the backstory of these two is that they were childhood friends turned high school sweethearts (class of 2005 in my AU lore of these two, hints at the music choices, etc.) before they went separate ways yada yada, the oc’s face claim is danielle brooks 💖 as always enjoy y'all

Makeup sex shouldn’t be this good. Like this was too good, like ultimate dream-fantasy level type of makeup sex. It felt unreal, except this was very real. Very, very, real.

Angel never imagined that her night would've ended up like this, in the arms of her high school sweet-heart, or rather sitting on top of a very expensive, entry way console, as her high school-sweetheart-turned-ex, used his nimble hands to fondle at her luscious curves, and pillowy-soft lips to suck on the sensitive part of her neck. From how hard Rio sucked and kissed on her neck it was surely going to leave a hickey, which might've been on purpose on Rio's part.

Since they were young, Rio always had a slight possessiveness towards Angel, nothing that was too domineering or chauvinistic, but still a possessiveness that was rooted in a love and a true appreciation of her. This of course was expressed in a way that only a sixteen-year-old Rio could, buying Angel's favorite snacks for school, littering her neck with hickeys during make-out sessions, and even saving what little he had to buy a gold necklace with an angel shaped pendant. It was the subtle ways Rio showed how he felt. That in addition to the verbal ways, in true young-Rio, braggadocious fashion. Even then Angel knew, deep, deep, down, that there would be no one who could measure up, or as Rio so accurately foretold the night of their break-up, "Who else is like me, hm? Who's better than me?"

Angel of course buried that fact deep into her subconscious, well, not deep enough, because in each of her relationships since, it managed to rear its ugly head every single time. Most recently, with her ex-fiancé, Nathan. Nathan was great at first, good conversation, amazing dates, lavish gifts, he treated her like princess. But slowly, over time, Nathan stopped trying, it especially became bad after their engagement. They rarely talked, unless it was about work, or wedding plans, he neglected her, especially in the bedroom. Angel soon realized that despite Nathan's neglectfulness, she made no effort to confront him about it. She didn't care, not a single bit. In the end, Angel had to accept that her heart belonged to someone else. That Rio was the only man for her.

Which brings her too tonight, Angel's high school class's reunion. It was a big one, celebrating 20 years, and Angel thought it would be the perfect remedy to cheer her up. She could let loose, reunite with some old classmates, and celebrate with her friends she's had since then. Something that could put her mind at ease, pull her focus away from the abysmal ending to her engagement.

She was having a good time, truly, cutting up on the dance floor to a killer set of music from 04' and 05', with her besties, Clarissa, Benny, Keke, and Dre. Angel was having the time of her life, dancing to Lose My Breath by Destiny's Child, when her friends froze, their eyes all staring at the bar of the ballroom. Clarissa leaned and whispered.

"Rio's, here."

Angel's mind and heart went to full overdrive, as memories of their relationship flooded her mind. Apparently, while Angel and her friends were having the time of their lives, Rio showed up and instantly became the talk of the town. He had a few breezy conversations with old classmates, charming them of course, and when asked about what does for a living, he smoothly responded that he was an entrepreneur, that he's always been good with numbers. Which wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. Of course, none of their classmates were aware of Rio's true dealings, only Angel and her close circle were privy to that info.

Despite the nerves that bubbled in her stomach, Angel, knew that she had to face Rio at some point. She marched over and sat at the bar next to him. After some awkward pretense, more on Angel's part than Rio's, and shot of whiskey later, they talked. The conversation flowed and soon before they knew, it was like old times. They caught up and laughed about old memories. More and more Angel felt her heart swell in her chest, her latent feelings for Rio were bubbling to surface. But Rio surprised her, after sharing a couple dances to slow jams, a proposition slipped freely from his lips.

"Come home with me?"

From a safe distance, her friends watched the exchange, seeing the chemistry they still had after all this time, and despite some reservations, they encouraged to follow her heart, or as Keke put it, her pussy. When they were parting ways, Clarissa hugged her tight and encouraged her, whispering in her ear, "Just go with him, girl. Have some fun, we both now you deserve it after the shit you've been through."

So, here she was, whimpering and writhing underneath Rio's touch, while simultaneously admiring the backyard view. An ink-colored sky served as a gorgeous back drop, for the glowy lit infinity pool, in the distance was twinkling lights from buildings near the coastal beach. It was truly a sight to see. Angel snapped back to reality when she felt a firm hand, cradle her chin.

"Where'd you go?" Rio asked. His Coca-Cola colored eyes stared back at her. His head tipped to side, long eye lashes fluttering against the tops of cheeks as he blinked.

His gaze was heavy was lust, completely unrelenting. Its intensity caused Angel to squirm in her seated position. A warmth bloomed underneath her skin as she rubbed at the part of her neck Rio just was. It was still wet from his kisses.

"N-nowhere, baby," Angel stammered.

Slowly, Rio lips curled into a half smile.

"Good," Rio nodded his head as his gaze traveled down to Angel's chest, zeroing in on the exposed skin the peeked through her top, "now take this shit off. I wanna see them titties, Nena."

Completely under his spell, Angel quickly took of her top, leaving her in a lacy, cerulean colored bra, her mini skirt, and a pair of thoroughly soaked panties. Immediately Rio, hand's palmed at Angel's breasts, rubbing and squeezing them. A soft moan escaped her lips, as Rio's lips latched onto one of nipples.

"Yes, baby," Angel sighed, her hands cradled Rio's head close to her. His tongue alternated between soft flicks and harsh sucks at her left nipple. He released her nipple with a pop and went to the right nipple, repeating the same thing, "Fuck, baby, just like that. Shit!"

Angel could feel the wetness pool inside of her panties, as her clit began to throb. She needed Rio, real bad.

"Damn," Rio breathed out. He pulled away from Angel's chest, while his large hands rubbed at her ample thighs. His lips curled into a wicked smile as he admired his handywork. Angel's boobs glistened with sweat, as her hardened nipples stood at full attention, with spit dripping from them, "I missed them titties, girl. Fuck, I need to that pussy too. Lift up for me."

Angel obliged. Rio supported her with one hand, while with the other, slipping off her mini skirt and panties. He tossed the skirt to the floor, while he pocketed her panties. A storm swirled in his eyes, a thick haze of lust, as he admired Angel's, wet, glistening, pussy.

"I dunno if I can wait, mama," Rio rasped. He brought a finger to Angel's core, swiping at her wetness, and brought it back to his lips, sucking on it, "You taste good, mama. All this shit for me?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, it's all for you baby,"

Wordlessly, Rio plunged his fingers inside of Angel, who let out a yelp in response. He quickly fell back into old habits, fucking Angel with his fingers, just the way she liked it.

"Yeaaahhh, just like that," Rio rasped, he bent down and licked at her lips, "Be a good girl and fuck my fingers back," Angel whined loudly, following his instructions, lifting her hips slight and fucked his thick, fingers.

"Fuck! I'm close baby!"

"I gotchu, mama. Fuck, I feel you on my fingers. You gonna let me take care of you, huh? I'll give you anything you want mama, fuck, you being so good for me. Cum for me, darlin',"

And she did. Angel's eyes squeezed shut as she gushed over his fingers. A string of curses and pleases slipped from Angel's lips as Rio continued to fuck her through her orgasm. She could feel the cum slipping down her thighs.

"Mi alma, you look so good cummin' for me," Rio praised her. He captured her lips and kissed her sweetly. His tongue swirled around in her mouth as mimicking the move with his fingers. Angel pulled away from him, mewling.

"Riooooo, fuck, slow down baby,"

Rio landed a firm smack on Angel's ass. He cradled Angel's chin bringing her eyes towards him. His eyes hardened a bit, still holding its lustful haze, now a bit possessiveness broke through. Rio crooked his fingers, slowing down his pace just a tad, but driving into Angel's pussy much harsher and deeper.

"Fuck, I say about that shit," He growled.

"Shit! Baby, I-I'm s-sorry," Angel whimpered. Her mind flickered back to them making out in the car, he only to wanted to her his name, his real one, "Christopher, 's too much,"

A look of pure satisfaction bloomed across Rio's face. Got her.

"Just one more, mama. Be a good girl for me," Rio sunk down to knees, he slowly placed small kisses at Angel's inner thighs. He worshiped the plushness of her thighs, while Angel writhed and whined. He inched closer, spreading Angel's thighs further apart. He admired how she dripped around his fingers. "Fuck, mama I want you to cum on my tongue, 'k?"

Rio kept his eyes on Angel as he licked at her entrance, swirling his tongue around his fingers, continuing on until he reached her clit. Rio pressed a soft kiss to Angel's clit.

"Christopher!" Angel shouted.

Rio worked in tandem, his long fingers plunged in and out of Angel's, while his tongue swirled around her clit, flicking at the sensitive bud. Angel's hands rubbed at the soft hair of Rio's buzzcut, while the familiar thrumming of her orgasm quickly approached.

"Christopher, fuck, I'm soooo close,"

Rio pulled back, "Say it again,"

"Christopher,”

“Again,”

“Christopher, Christopher, Christopherrrrr, keep fuckin’ me, I’m so close,”

Rio grinned as he returned to her pussy. He latched onto her clit, sucking so harshly, Angel for sure believe that it was going to be bruised. His fingers fucked her even faster, as she clenched around them, as Rio French-kissed her pussy. He was completely relentless, wanting to see her cum, again, again, and again. With one last, harsh suck at her clit, Angel, exploded. She screamed in pleasure as she rode out her orgasm. Rio rose up, slowly pumping his fingers, before pulling out.

"Did so good for me," He mumbled against her cheek, holding her close as Angel rode out the aftershocks.

“I love you so much, baby,” Angel whispered in his ear.

Rio captured her lips again, kissing Angel. He licked at her mouth, allowing Angel to taste herself. Rio arms snaked around Angel's torso, and with ease, managed to throw her over his shoulder. Angel giggled and kicked her feet and Rio moved to the stairs.

"Baby! What are you doing?"

"It's time for the real show to start, Nena," Rio teased, he playfully smacked her ass, "You ready for me?"

"Always."

#siribaesfics #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio x blackfem!reader #rio x blackcurvy!reader #good girls fanfiction #black fanfiction #poc fanfiction

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bluetimeombre · 1 year ago

Text

✧˚. ❃ ↷ Call it what you want to, part three

[I'm having way too much fun with these, but i'm gonna try and make the next part the final. i'm so glad you guys are as obssessed as me. and all i can say is i'm sorry to the tom blyth girlies, believe me, i am one of you and i promise i'll make it up to you!]

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You are texting ... Timothee Chalamet

Timothee Chalamet is calling... My Daisy <3 [declined]

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

liked by ... tchalamet, lola.tung, emmalouisecorrin, florenceough, louispartridge_ & others

yourusername: dreams do come true, can't wait to see you later graham norton!!

705k likes 304k comments

user: omg she's such a star

user: my bby moving up in the world

user: no omg cause this is a dream for her

user: ur so pretty

user: I LOVE U

tchalamet: let's go!!! can't wait

yourusername: wait for me at least

tchalamet: waiting...

user: they're so cute!!1

user: i BET he dumped kylie to be with her and she's dating tom

user: my two fave's

user: she looks so good

user: y does timmy only follow one person and it's her

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

the graham norton show has been a dream since you started acting, you'd hoped to one day make it on and know that if you did, you'd have officially made it.

not only were you on the show with timmy, but cher, julia roberts and tom hanks. to say you were shaking in your boots was an understatement. back stage you were jumping around after spending some time with the guests. that time had been spent mainly at timothee's side and laughing when appropriate, because you just couldn't believe you were there with them. timothee just laughed, trying to ease your nerves even if he to was scared. in the end, he bounced with you.

you sat on the end of the sofa, next to timothee as the guests ran down the other end.

'and some stars we have on the sofa, look at them at the end. world premier of wonka!' celebrated graham.

you and timmy nodded, thanking the applauses.

'but it wasn't just the world premier, you filmed it over here?' he asked.

'yea we made it in leavesden, very close to here, we shot it almost entirely in london and er- as i always say- i feel like an honorary brit now,' said timmy, glancing at you as he called himself a brit.

you bite back something between a grimace and a smile.

'it was about six of seven months,' he continued, 'it was absolutely joyous as an ignorant yankee.'

'you guys drive on the other side of the road,' joked tom hanks.

'and welcome, at the end there being very quiet,' said graham gesturing to you.

'yea, hi!' you grin, taking a sip of your drink as the audience laugh.

'you're from here, aren't you?'

'yes, british. but it was still really nice to film in london and bath for a lot of it.'

'i can imagine and because, is it right, you were filming for the hunger games whilst you were filming wonka?' he asked. a picture of your poster for the hunger games flashed on the screen and timmy led the applause, whooping.

his attention was only focused on you. his eyes watching every movement, his lips curling up, arm around the back of the sofa.

'thank you, thank you. immediately after filming wonka i got a plane to poland to start filming for the hunger games, yea. literally still in costume for wonka on the plane, i-i got some looks.'

the crowd laugh.

'let's talk about that, hunger games, number one movie!' graham celebrated as everyone clapped.

'thank you, thank you- there we are,' you smile at the picture of tom and you in your characters in the zoo scene. you chose not to notice of timothee shifted around and coughed at the picture.

'and, is it true you did your own singing in that?'

'yes, well i do in wonka too, but for the hunger games it was live. you know, i play this character lucy-grey who's part of this covey band and they all sing so i did it all live on set. then recorded it for the soundtrack separately. this is boring to explain, but-' you said, laughing and fiddling with your rings nervously.

'she's fantastic in the movie,' said timothee, putting his attention on graham and his hand on yours to stop the fiddling. 'i remember working with her in wonka, it was just so much fun, she brings a sort of ... breath of fresh air into it, even though it's a light-hearted comedy, she still makes that difference. and i saw the hunger games, its so cool to be able to see her in an element that i'm not familiar with. but i can still see how she plays the role and how she plays it in such her own and charismatic way.'

you turn your head down, blushing as the crowd clap and as timothee rubs your back. he made it impossible to keep it cool, and on live tv.

'and she sang the songs so good in wonka!' he continued. you tried to get him to stop, but he went on. 'on our table read, she was singing the songs there with our music producer, james taylor, and even then she was singing her parts, our co-stars parts, my parts.'

'ok, shush, shush,' you put your hand over timothees mouth.

'you know what, i saw the new hunger games movie,' said tom hanks, breaking in between you. 'and i have to say, you were the best part of the movie.'

your jaw almost dropped. 'oh woah, thank you, thank you mr tom hanks,' you clasp your hands together, thanking him. 'woah, woody just complimented me, that means so much to me.'

the rest of the interview went on, talking about cher's music, pretty women and listen to tom hanks talk about space and science. sometimes, when timmy would take a drink, he'd bring you yours, offering it to you in a sweet move.

it went on to talk about timothee going to play the iconic bob dylan in a movie, so it was your turn to watch in admiration, eyes sparkling with it.

'no i haven't met him, i'd love to meet him but you know, i don't want to put any pressure on him in any way. but er- we just saw him live,' he said, gesturing to you as you nod, holding onto your drink, 'three weeks ago, in new york. sold out, kings theatre. it was brilliant, it was magical. they bag your phone on the way in, obliges you to be present, as hard as that may be,' he said again, glancing to you. because how could he ever be present when standing next to you?

a picture showed of bob dylan with sonny and cher.

'i can see it, there is a passing resemblance,' says graham.

'thank you, that is the biggest compliment. my god, i'm blown away,' he leant back on the sofa, arm brushing yours. 'this whole talk show has been like a trip.'

everyone laughed at that, tom hanks playing along.

'but cher, you're going to be played by someone soon,' prompted graham.

'please say it's me,' said julia roberts.

'well-' graham gestured down to you.

you laugh and sheepishly hold up your hand. 'i'll do it, i'm currently un-employed.

cher looked down at you, 'we've cast nobody, babe.'

'you have now,' you shrug. the audience laugh.

finally, you guys talked about wonka, leading timothee- the leading man- to talk about it.

'you sing and dance in it, don't forget that,' you nudge him.

timothee blushes, nodding. somehow the two of you had snuggled up on the sofa, pushed to the end and bodies pressed close together. 'it's blasphemy to say that on a sofa with cher!'

'no, i saw you on saturday night live, you were great. and you danced and you did that hot-guys, or cool-guys or something like that,' said cher.

the audience clap and you laugh loudly, remembering his saturday night live. you'd been in the audience, having done press for the hunger games. it was the best night.

'baby face!' you cheer.

'i can't believe you watched that,' said timmy to cher.

'do you want to re-fresh us?' invited julia.

the crowd whoop and laugh as you clap along.

'you sing it with me?' asked timmy, looking over at you.

'absolutely not, this is all you babe,' you pat him on the back as he leans forward and re-counts the song. you nod your head along with, mouthing the words and clapping, pretending to bow when he was finished. timmy laughed and held onto you.

'you two do seem very close down there,' said graham.

for a moment, you two pause and there's quiet. before you guys realise he's talking about the fact everyone on the sofa had shuffled down so that you were on the edge.

'timmy's magnetic field,' you say, rubbing his shoulders.

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instagram story... tchalamet posted!

caption: graham norton, let's go!!

tagged: yourusername

caption: she's calling

tagged: yourusername

Instagram story … yourusername posted

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

user: guys, tom was out partying with friends and his ex-gf while yourusername was doing her graham norton interview

user: as he should after yourusername spends all her time with timothee

user: they’re friends

user: img party boy

user: why is this news? do we care

user: noooooo my parents

user: what if there relationship is just all pr for the film 😔😔

user: I love tom, let him do what he wants

user: she’s better with timmy anyway

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

liked by… tchalamet, sadiesink_, rachelzegler, tomblyth, vanityfair & others

yourusername: thank you so much vanity fair for featuring me and coming to my home town (p.s I’m so sorry about all the sheep poo x)

771k likes 401k comments

user: love!

user: ONG the only one to ever exsist ever!

user: I can’t wait to see what she says about tom and timothee

user: she is her own person

user: OMG TAYLOR SWOFT

user: collab when???

user: I love u!!!!

user: I can’t wait to read and stare at you

tchalamet: let’s go!!!!

yourusername liked tchalamet’s comment

user: parents are interacting

user: anyone notice her and tom been really quiet? they went from making out in streets to barley being seen together

user: reputation era!!!

user: is this a reputation easter egg??

tomblyth: very proud, my dear !

yourusername: thanks bro ;)

user: what!!!!!

user: WHAT HAS HAPPENED

user: he got bro zoned

user: they went from quoting notting hill to calling each other bro 😭😭

yourusername in conversation with VANITY FAIR.

user: so she dating tom or what?

user: did you just not read the article?

user: tomblyth do me a favour and tell her to make up her mind

tomblyth: user do me a favour and get a life

user: HE DID THAT

user: tom so fr

user: tom a real bf

user: i love them!!!!

user: I love her!!!

user: she said what she said and left no crumbs

user: queen shit

user: MOTHER!!

user: the way she talks suggests they are only friends and my heart breaks

user: i'll miss them

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

:) taglist: @callsignwidow @kodzuvk @dangelnleif @coconut-dreamz @destrolid @hermionelove @popejar @yesimwriting @slytherhoes @peachesandmon @zunin-msty (thank you all for enjoying it!!!!!)

#timothee x reader #timothee imagine #wonka #tom blyth #timothee x you #timothée chalamet #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth imagine #coryo #fame dr #timothee x y/n

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maybankslover · 6 months ago

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rafe cameron x argentina!reader

how she dresses

summer vibe's 🐤🐚🦭🌸

from pretty dresses to comfy to jean skirts to office attire

when they go out they try to match (rafe tries to match with whatever color she has on actually. he'll never admit it tho and she teases him over and over again for it)

her family is now at a place where she can buy good clothes even if they're not luxury like the one's rafe want's to buy her and she rejects every time he offers to do so under the phrases "lo mío está bueno y no sale fortuna. if i want something caro te pido amor" with a little smile on her face. [my things are good and they don't cost a fortune. if i want something expensive I'll ask you love.]

when she goes back home and she takes her luggage full of things for her family she comes back the same way she went with a lot of clothes for everyone. buying really good quality in the avenue where everything is cheaper because well usa money in a america latina country things but she isn't that stupid to buy good clothes that are also very very expensive when she can buy good quality for a lower price because viveza criolla ante todo.

"te dije, barato, bueno y bonito." she tells him when he tries on one of the many things she brought him. [i told you. cheap, good, and pretty]

"can't lie, they're good." those four words make her jump like a little kid.

"you'll never be able to go shop with me there, que triste." she sighs. [sad]

"why?" he takes the shirt off.

"te verían la cara." he raises his eyebrows to tell her to explain. "uh it's means like they'd see your face."

"meaning?"

"they'd know you're a yankee. it's all over your face." she laughs when he fuss at her words. "que? es verdad." [what? it's true.]

🐤🐚🦭🌸

summary: viveza criolla [the intelligence the argentino/a has to benefit themselves. most of the times it's used when someone benefit themselves without caring if it damages someone else. not the case here]

masterlist

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dinosaurwithablog · 8 months ago

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Juan Soto was so kind to the fans today. He waved to us every time that he took the field, and he threw a ball to us every time that he could. I've sat in these seats many, many times, and Juan Soto is the first and only player who has done this. Aaron Judge never acknowledged the fans and never threw a ball our way. The Mariners right fielders never did either. I love Juan Soto. I hope that he is a Yankee forever 🙏🏼😍 I thoroughly enjoyed watching him play today. Let's go Yankees!!!!!

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englandsgirl18181234 · 4 months ago

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how shocked will Annabeth and her siblings be to see the difference in Athena? If her mind has been degrading and she didn’t start to make kids until quite a long time after the Odyssey, I don’t see how Athena’s children would have ever known her true self.

Also, I hope the gods find out just how important Odysseus, Penelope and Telemachus are to her, and that Apollo makes it clear how much Athena was suffering in mind and body, that they really made an already horrible situation even worse. Especially with Demeter’s needless cruelty towards Athena for petitioning Hades respectfully and the attack on the Olive tree bed. Athena’s grief sounds like it was on a similar (if less outwardly destructive) level as Demeter’s own when Persephone was taken (and in a sense, Telemachus was Athena’s child—Demeter was being cruel to a mother who wanted to see her spouses and child just once more). Also, Hera’s actions towards Athena anger me, Athena was Zeus’s first child by his first wife, who was not Hera. Hera acted like Athena was a bastard when she is just as legitimate as Hera’s own children.

also, also, how is Triton—who was a father figure to Athena before Zeus’s actions caused Pallas to be lost (and in all the myths I have read, it was him, not Athena, who caused Pallas’s death by distracting her during a friendly spar)—going to react when he learns Zeus murdered her? I mean, unless there were no witnesses I don’t think it’s likely that by the time Athena dies Triton didn’t know what happened. So now Zeus has brought about the deaths of both of Triton’s daughters.

this whole mess is gonna bring up some bad memories for Hera, Demeter, Poseidon, Hades and Hestia

And that's the tragedy of Athena and her children, isn't it? They didn't know their real mother. None of them did. Even the earliest children that she was allowed to be closely involved with only ever knew her through a haze of grief and trauma and brain damage. To see her without all that is something they'll barely even be able to comprehend. And when they realize just how much she had suffered and how hard she had to fight just to present in their lives in even the faintest way, they're going to realize that she loved them so much more than she was ever able to show.

And Athena here actually communicated with her children more regularly than all the other gods. She wasn't allowed to be overt, wasn't able to assist and assure them of her love the way she wanted to. But they still got signs from her that she cared, even if they didn't always understand that that's what they were.

Not a single child of Athena went unclaimed for more than a day, and even that long was often only because of her seizures. Many were claimed as soon as they hit the border of camp. The rest of the campers, and particularly the unclaimed, were always extremely jealous of how all of Athena's kids were claimed so quickly. And Annabeth's Yankee's cap was not a one off in this verse, it was just the one that was the most difficult to hide. All of Athena's children got some kind of gift, it was just a concentrated effort by the rest of the cabin to make sure that went unknown because of how upset it would have made the rest of camp and potentially the other gods.

Apollo and Athena are actually the only cabins that didn't have anyone go over to Kronos in the Titan War in this verse too, because Apollo did pretty much the same thing. He couldn't get away with gifts to the same extent, because he and his children were watched much more closely than Athena, but all of his kids were claimed by the next dawn.

(I promise there'll be an explanation for the Mark Of Athena and Annabeth's treatment in it, it's just gonna take a while to get there because Athena needs to heal first)

And oh boy, are the rest of the gods gonna find out. Apollo is not pulling any of his punches on that front, he is going to show them Exactly how much Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus meant to her. Because he knows how the others viewed Athena, how they saw her as distant and uptight and emotionless. But he knows better than them all that she Wasn't that. That it was all a product of brain damage and all the masks she wore to keep the others from using her love against her like Zeus did.

Apollo is about one more badly timed comment away from hitting them all with a plague that would mimic the worst of Athena's symptoms, just to make them all truly understand how badly she'd been suffering. Because she was suffering, and all he could do was watch as she slowly got worse and worse. Knowing all the while that there was nothing he could do beyond be there for her because none of his treatments ever worked.

And the other gods are going to realize how shitty they were, at least most of them, it just might take a little bit because they're all still in shock at this point.

Hera is... not great in this verse. To anyone really. She's pretty much based her entire life and personality around being Zeus's wife, and Athena is a glaring reminder of both the fact that it Wasn't always her at his side, and the fact that she's replaceable, which is why she's so much more awful to Athena than the others.

And Triton? Boy oh boy is Poseidon having a Rough time with Triton. Poseidon is physically unable to not tell Triton about what happened. He literally could not stomach the idea of not telling his son about Athena's death the moment he got back. He even made sure to tell the rest of the Council that he was going to before he left.

And Triton. Goes. Ballistic.

He is two seconds away from flashing to Olympus and going after Zeus with nothing but his gods-damned teeth.

And he is only being kept from doing so by Poseidon doing the godly power equivalent of sitting on him to keep him in place. The very second Poseidon's attention wavers enough for him to get out, he is going to be in that throne room ripping out Zeus's throat with his bare hands.

This is both of his children that Zeus has now killed, both of his beloved daughters that had been stolen from him by the so called King. And Triton is determined to destroy him for it.

Sorry this took so long to answer, you had me thinking about a lot of things and it took me a while to find the right words

#epic the musical #epic athena #chthonic!athena au #pjo athena #athena epic #pjo triton #pjo poseidon #pjo hera #pjo apollo #epic apollo #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo

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thelunarbar · 2 years ago

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I do have to add more bc they’re some of my favs

There’s a poem;

“There is nothing prettier in the whole world than a girl in love with every breath she takes.”

A t t i c u s

And whenever I see pics like this, of Volpe specifically rn, but anyone really, smiling like this all I see is guys madly in love with life and I always think of that poem ^ by atticus

#literally having his dreams come true #all that hard work paying off #being exactly where you want in life #and surrounded by people who are so happy to see you get there #And that smile says it all #I love love love the video of him telling his family he’s going to the big leagues #they’re all so proud of him and they love him so much #and I love that #new york yankees #anthony volpe #my boy 🥰

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numinousmysteries · 2 months ago

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A Revelation

Okay, deep breath. I know what I'm about say isn't going to win me any friends in the X-Files fandom (and I'll probably lose more than a few) but it's time I be true to myself.

I've had this feeling bubbling up for a while that I've been trying to suppress because I know it's not a popular opinion but I figure now is as good a day as any to let everyone know....I am a noromo. I don't think Mulder and Scully are a good match. I just like the show for the scary stories and Chris Carter's genius plot.

Wow, just writing that gives me so much relief. I know I've been reblogging shippy gif sets and writing MSR fics but recently it's started to feel hollow. I'm so excited to live my truth as a born-again noromo.

If you like any of my fic, consider saving it now because I'll probably be taking it down and replacing it with stories that are more aligned with how I view the series now. I'm telling you, the ideas have just been FLOWING since I freed myself to write what I truly feel. I have two snippets I'll post here just as a taste of what's to come.

Here's an alternate take on the Amor Fati ending, and one for the Memento Mori hallway scene: AMOR FATI ALTERNATE ENDING

When Mulder opens the door to his apartment, bandaged head barely hidden under a New York Yankees cap, Scully feels nothing but professional respect. He has been her coworker for seven years after all.

“Scully, what are you doing here?” He asks. “Actually, I was just getting dressed to come see you but I... I couldn't find a tie to go with my victory cap.”

She knows he doesn’t really mean he was going to come see her, but rather come to the office where she also happens to work.

If he were her romantic love interest and not just a coworker, Scully would consider taking his cap off and playfully tugging at his tie, but that would be completely inappropriate. They are just professional coworkers afterall.

“Diana Fowley was found murdered this morning,” Scully tells him. Since Diana was the love of his life, she wanted to tell him this in person as soon as possible instead of in an official FBI memo as she originally planned. It does cross the line of professionalism, showing up in his personal space like this, but she knows how much Diana meant to him. Unlike herself, who is just a coworker to him.

“Thanks for letting me know, Agent Scully,” Mulder says, sadly. Diana was the love of his life afterall.

“Of course, Agent Mulder,” Scully says. She thinks about shaking his hand but instead just hands him the paperwork she brought with her. “Please make sure to file this PTO request for your brain surgery in a timely manner. Have a nice afternoon.”

She turns and walks away.

MEMENTO MORI ALTERNATE HALLWAY SCENE

After retrieving Agent Scully’s ova from the Lombard Research Facility, Mulder decides it would only be polite and professional to let her know what he’s found. He returns to the hospital where he’s greeted by a stern nurse.

“Can I help you sir?” She asks.

“I'd like to see my professional work colleague, Agent Dana Scully. She’s a patient here,” he says.

“Are you family? Her husband?”

“Oh no,” Mulder laughs. “I’m just her professional coworker.”

“Well then you’ll have to come back in the morning. Visiting hours are over.”

Mulder nods. That makes sense. Why would he visit his totally platonic coworker in the middle of the night? He feels silly for even considering it now.

“Thank you,” he says politely to the nurse. “I’ll return at a more appropriate hour for someone just visiting a colleague.”

He turns and leaves.

#xfiles #the x files #txf #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #noromo

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angstigone · 1 month ago

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(A/N): hello there lovelies!

this is prompted by me watching a few (too many) «yellowstone 1923 edits», so ahem... sorry in advance if this is cringy.

WARNINGS: unhelathy dynamics (ran threatens in part reader and manhandles her), forced marriage (not with ran), childhood friends to lovers (with ran), classicism, bonten! ran (and the whole gang), violence, blood, gore murder, criminal activities, au (wild wild west), inaccuracy, slight mention about sexual assault, minor character's death (off-screen), angst with an happy ending, hurt/comfort, second chance romances, she-her/afab character

They say that the day of your wedding should be the happiest of your life, and yet, as women moved around you, busying themselves with the preparations, you didn’t feel an ounce of happiness.

Worry, discomfort and a sort of emptiness instead filled you wholly.

You wondered how it had come to this, although the answer was clear.

It came from the other room of men belly-laughing at the pouring drinks that you saw coming in and out each time the door would let through a member of the staff.

It had all happened a few months ago, when you had accidentally witnessed the discussion between your father and a local tycoon.

“Your far won’t last long” the man had snickered while you had been halfway through walking in the dining hall to ask your father whether he’d tend to the cattle on his own or need any help “... you are the last line. Last one that hasn’t sold to me and I doubt that you’ll be able to uphold the deal for long”.

You had been startled, risking letting yourself be discovered as a gasp left your mouth, just in time for your hands to catch it and hold it in place while the man continued on threatening your father.

“... still, I know you’d prefer to go down with your farm… instead of selling to me” which wasn’t far from the truth, considering that your family was made of proud people, starting from your father and although you were a daughter and a son - his sole heir - you had inherited the handling of the farm and the talent to cure it.

You wouldn’t have passed the reigns so easily to some yankee flashing their money to you with little to no interest for the actual property.

“... hence, why I have a further proposition for you”.

“You have a daughter, don’t you” you had felt then exposed, as if you had straight up come out of your hiding spot and were underneath his examining eyes “... a pretty thing. I see her when I go by the city. Old enough to be a bride and yet, she stays unmarried. Don’t tell me you wish for her to stay a spinster?”.

Your father had then grumbled something but he hadn’t ever been a man of many words; he was gentle and kind although stern and severe when needed.

Still, he sorely lacked eloquence, which had been your mother’s stronghold and now your own.

“Well, I have a solution to such an issue” the other man had smirked and you had seen the obvious grimace even through the distance “... you see… I have a son … an unmarried son. Same age as your girlie. Handsome and albeit not all that smart, I think that he might be a good fit for your lassie”.

Your father’s reaction had then been bold, raising up in offense at the man’s bold words, probably readying himself to deny it but then you had come out, suddenly feeling the way the attention had shifted from your father onto you.

“We shall require the necessity of thinking over this” even the tycoon knew you were stalling, but you had done so just to have - later - the occasion to ask your father whether what the man had said had been true: if you didn’t find a solution, your farm would be sold.

“It ain’t… nothing… nothing for you to worry about your pretty head, lass” the man had shot you down; as much as he had raised you as a son, he had always pushed the matters of discussion out of your reach, whether to protect you or because he didn’t think you fit to hear them.

“Father” still, as unlikely as it was, you had for the first time disobeyed “... the farm is all that we have left. Where mother is buried and… I… if this is the sole way to save it… I… I’ll marry the boy”.

“I can’t ask that of you” the lack of true resistance in your father’s words and the tears in his eyes had been confirmation of the disaster that’d befall your house, hadn’t you found a solution “... I… there must be another solution and…”.

“... and if there isn’t?” you had shot back, uncharacteristically gaining the upper hand while your father regarded you placidly “... father, I… I never disobeyed or questioned your authority but I can’t… I must marry the boy”.

So, here you were, on your wedding day desperately close to tears while women helped you in an uncomfortable dress and offered you glasses of cordial that you refused if anything because you knew it’d have given you the courage to rip the fabric and run as far away as possible from here.

«Oh girlie, you are moved?» an older lady that belonged to your groom’s family cooed gently as she downed a glass of something that smelt heavy and herbal «… yeah, marriages have this fucking effect on people…».

«… remember when I married my Jacob… that poor fucker couldn’t recognize his head out of his ass» another woman croaked although you didn’t join the general laughter that followed her caustic comment «And that boy? Oh shit, I… ».

Whatever insult was held back as her eyes reached your own for but a moment, before ducking down in shame; that your fiancé was a huge pile of shit wasn’t such a secret.

Money made people arrogant and, while a boy whose hands hadn’t ever seen a day of field work might be a disgrace, one that had given the syphilis to half the women working in the brothels in town and a few over…

… it was a bad match but the sole way that you’d reinstate some control for the farm.

It’d stay in your claim once your father passed and you had been promised for your debts to be sated and erased.

It was all that you needed to think about to hold yourself from crying, screaming and running away.

«Can I… can I ask for a moment alone?» a strange request and it showed on the women’s faces, as a few exchanged a look probably as they expected you to run away the moment that they left the room.

Aside from the general courtesy of new families coming together, you knew that considering the ages and ownerships of these women they weren’t that as consolation but as premature jailers, hadn’t the threat of your farm been hanging onto your head.

Eventually though the shared compassion for your poor situation won over as the women exited the room one after the other, with each a pitiful look of warning, as if you didn’t know that escaping such a cruel situation was impossible.

Only alone, you let yourself fall apart carefully, removing the thick veil that had belonged to your mother and carefully cradling a handkerchief in your hand, you sobbed silently.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you thought as your mind recountered to a time when you were younger.

The farm was going well, although your mother’s death was still fresh in your mind.

Still, you had Ran back then.

A stablehand that helped with the cattle steadily as he’d be waiting for the better season with your family, serving among the staff.

Being around the same age and with your fatherìs lack for distinction among staff and farmers, you had soon grown close to the boy and his younger brother, Rindou, enough that where friendship had been, at fifteen, you realized that love was instead what you felt for the blonde haired boy.

Still, at sixteen he had broken your heart choosing to abandon the farm; not that you could blame him as it had been when the farm had first shown signs of failure.

He’d have to be let go soon enough as currently your father could employ just a few necessary employees and most of them were seasonal workers.

And yet, the way you had parted always stuck to your mind, as you had sneaked out of your cot to spend your last night together stargazing in the open field behind the farm, as it had been you who taught Ran how to orient himself with stars and to recognize each one.

“It’ll be reassuring” you had tried to be brave, if anything because Ran was always so little expressive, enough that to anybody his tension at the moment might seem normal “... to think we’ll be staring at the same sky, no matter how far apart we are”.

“You think we’ll be apart for long?” and just like that you knew that he had been thinking about this as well as you.

Turning around to answer his question, you had been startled to find his own eyes staring right back at you with genuine wonder.

“If you don’t want us to part, then stay” it was selfish but you had loved him enough to think that parting yourself was like parting yourself with a limb “... I could talk with father. Maybe there can be farms that can employ you and…”.

“I am tired of being a fucking stablehand” he had shot back, suddenly releasing the tension between his shoulders, while his eyes narrowed in a silent anger “... I want to fucking own something to my name. Something that’ll be enough to keep me safe and somewhere to return to”.

You had then wished to say ‘you have me to return to, here’, but you hadn’t known of his feelings and more importantly you knew that whatever feeling between you and Ran, it’d be squashed in the beginning; your father might have sympathy and kindness for him and his brother but he wouldn’t have let either of them marry his daughter, already suspicious by their interactions although the grief for his wife’s death made it easier to hide their gentle touches.

“... then I hope we won’t be apart for long” because each day it’d have felt like you were losing the air from your lungs.

Would you have ever survived a week without Ran when you were used to reaching the cattle and seeing him lazing around and slacking off?

His hand had been tender as it cradled your face softly; you knew Ran to be suave and smooth, having grown jealous of the way he’d easily flirt with the few members of the staff that’d seek him out, although there was always an haughtiness in the way he went to reject them once he had his fill of amusement.

Still, his affection at the moment felt earnest and in a last attempt in coercion you pushed forward softly pressing your lips against his own.

At sixteen you hadn’t any knowledge of kisses aside from the few ones that you had witnessed working around the farm, being more familiar with the carnal sin of sex as you had been indeed raised on a farm where animals and their couplings were in full view.

Maybe that’s why it felt far more intimate when Ran’s hand went to hold your face in place when he returned the kiss.

And it was dizzying to be accepted, but not as much as what Ran had spoken again.

“When I’ll come back, it’ll be with enough money to fucking marry you” it should have scared you the intensity with which Ran spoke as if those things were already done in his eyes and mind “... so, wait for me”.

You had, patiently, as an official fiancé, although since then months and years had passed and Ran hadn’t ever shown up.

He hadn’t even sent letters and the sole news that you had gathered hadn’t been from him but the passing workers and newspapers who recounted a band of criminals that had a core of two brothers.

“They have been such a fucking pain in the ass of sheriffs all over this zone” a man had once recounted while your father feigned clear ignorance at his bold description of the two criminals “... it’s like… it’s like they fucking think themselves smarter than us”.

Which wasn’t such a lie, as you had always thought Ran to be an arrogant bastard.

His absence of an answer and discarded promise should have been enough to make you hate him and yet, here you were on your wedding day, aware that you’d be breaking the promise to him because you were about to marry a man that wasn’t him.

“No need to think about the past, as he was the one that left first” you thought as you finally downed the glass of cordial the women had left on your desk, boldly staining part of the dress as you went to wipe your lips.

At least, you’d have a small act of rebellion while you went to reapply the veil and as you went to call the women again, you heard a strange noise coming from the sole window and when you went to turn around a man stood in your room.

An unfamiliar man although somehow…

… somehow you had the sensation of having seen him before.

Quickly thinking, you went to the desk and grabbed the first sharp thing that you could get your hands on which turned out to be a thin but pointy hairpin and you brandished it towards the man who had come closer.

You wondered whether it was a joke from the groom’s party or whether your future father-in-law was about to go back on his own word, having you killed in your own wedding suite.

Still, when the man laughed, you realized why you had thought to have seen him before.

«… Ran?» you asked shyly and unsure, to keep your heart in check; if it wasn’t Ran and you had just…

«You do remember then, my dear» now suddenly you realized that the worst change had been his hair: long flowy and in part blonde and in part darker that you always chastised him for keeping long in the heat of the work.

“Even I - a woman - keep them tied or cut them” you had always teased him “... don’t tell me it’s vanity?”.

Still, now that he had cut them, he had lost any boyish charm and his features felt even more cutting especially if added with the artificial darker color.

He was your Ran and yet, he haunted you in a matter that held you still keeping the hairpin as a weapon, although he came closer uncaring for it.

«… thought your memory might have gone to shit» his words felt like shattered glass as he came closer to you with each passing step, till you inevitably backed into the vanity, with the hairpin pricking the expensive fabric of his clothes «… you are getting married when I told ya to fucking wait for me».

He couldn’t… he couldn’t be angry at such matters, not when he had abandoned you first.

And for what?

A lifetime of crime with his brother?

You thought him ridiculous and just like that, any fear you might have disappeared as you fell into your usual easy banter.

«You didn’t… you fucking left me here» it wasn’t your thing to curse and it showed in Ran’s expression of surprise before it settled in an open smirk«… I… and I am doing this to save the farm. It ain’t personal, Ran».

«I think it’s wholly personal when you fucking agree to a promise» he had shot back, as his hands had gone to where you held the hairpin, plucking each finger off it with enough delicateness that you eventually opened your hand wholly to him much to his wolfish grin, letting the hairpin clatter on the wooden floor and eliminating the sole distance between the two of them as Ran got even more up and personal to you «… didn’t think that you’d break an oath».

«It’s been two years, Ran!» and you made sure to put them all in those words.

And they were felt as Ran backed off, unsure of whether to continue, hesitant.

And you hated him for it.

He showed his ugly face cursing you for breaking an oath that he hadn’t respected himself and he had the gut to hesitate.

«You should have fucking stayed away doing your shady business!».

And just like that you were pushed against the desk while you felt all of Ran against you.

A bit stronger and you’d have broken the mirror and he’d have surely hurt you.

You shouldn’t have felt grateful for the slight kindness that had been afforded to you and yet, you couldn’t deny that it confirmed that this was the same Ran that you had known before he left you.

The one that’d never hurt you.

That had come back for you.

«You don’t know anything, spoiled little girl» he seethed although he promptly left you, allowing you to breath promptly.

«I know you left me and I… the farm was going to be sold and…» as you had tried to hold up the sudden realization that Ran had stayed the same through the years - and so might be his feelings for you - was enough to shatter you.

Tears came back and you clutched the veil by your sides till it lightly came off with a tumble, revealing your full face to Ran.

And you saw it, the deep intake of surprise, before his features settled into his usual smirk, albeit softened.

«… we are going to lose the farm if I don’t marry that fucking prick» suddenly you felt sixteen, coming to Ran because one of the horses had been too moody for your tastes and he suited them far better «… and I can’t do that to my father or… to … my mother».

«You don’t have to» hands gently went to your arms, the grip not too tight, just enough to be comforting «… that’s why I came back. I ain’t going back to my words».

«You are too fucking late, Ran» you shot back «I ain’t running away with you and…».

«… and I am not asking you that» his calm felt scarier than his previous outburst as he gently retracted and moved towards the door of your room, before extending a hand out to you «Why don’t we both go and explain the situation to your fiancé?».

«You don’t understand…» you hissed annoyed at how meek he seemed about the matter. He might delight in his crimes and hide in the dark, but you wouldn’t have been able to.

«What I fucking understand at the moment is that you don’t have any intention to marry the fucker» he spat right back, sarcasm dripping from his words as he lightly folded and unfolded his fist in an invitation «… and what I fucking know is that you either accompany me downstairs or I’ll make you».

You knew that albeit the lithe figure, Ran could have easily grabbed you and manhandled you over his shoulders - as he had done often when he felt playful or you were ‘bothering him’ - so the threat wasn’t a silent one.

Albeit you feared the thought of Ran - an unhinged Ran - being swept into this mess, the invitation of his extended hand - and the clear threat - was enough to push you to accept it as you silent descended the stairs.

The unnatural silence should have been the first sign of the scene that you found in the main hall, as you went to greet your father and future in-laws and found everybody in attendance - aside your father - with a gun pointed to their temples in an obvious threat.

And with the way the men holding them were quick to look into Ran’s direcion, you guessed they might as well be the ones that he captained.

«I should have fucking known the girlie was bad news!» your fiancé screeched as you came into view, which had you lightly hide behind Ran, as a mixture of emotions filled your gut and you weren’t able to process anything «… a fucking spinster! And for a fucking good reason! You, witch of a bit…!».

The sound of the barrel of the gun being swept against his cranium was strangely contained if compared with the violence of the action as you immediately recognized Rindou’s features in the attacker’s own.

Similarly to his brother his appearance had changed although in the diametrically opposite direction: longer hair and more cutting traits.

«Clean your fucking mouth, motherfucker» he chanted almost childishly although the way he immediately righted your fiancé on the chair when he was bleeding profusely was enough to send a chill down your spine.

You turned to Ran for an explanation but his expression mirrored the one of his brother.

«… we have… you must forgive my boy…» your future father-in-law sounded so pathetic as a man with bright pink hair held him in place. A sadistic smile marred his features as two twin scars at the sides of his face, inevitably leaving an haunting impression on you «… he… he… we have no intention to…».

«… to offend us?» Ran finally spoke, cocky and unapologetic «Well, I’d have fucking assumed you wouldn’t have, otherwise I’d have given the order of gunning you down the moment that we walked in here».

The thought sent you again flying to Ran for an explanation.

He hadn’t ever been this violent when you had known him, mostly roughhousing with the other stablehands for fun or extra-money but as he had changed appearance he might have changed morality.

«Ran…» you whispered, tugging on his sleeve «… please… please don’t… stop… stop his madness».

«Sweetheart» he spoke gently, a hand going to the hand on his jacket «… let me talk with the men. I am just clarifying what’s going to happen».

«We’ll let the girl, I… we truly…» your future father-in-law spoke again before his attention was promptly shifted onto you «… you ain’t fucking worth it».

«Didn’t your son’s little tantrum teach you anything» the man that had been holding hostage your father-in-law was quick to cock the gun at him, further pushing it against the other man’s head, scaring him enough that you smelt it: the stench of urine.

He had peed himself.

This pathetic man… he had wanted for your farm.

And his stupid son…

Albeit you had cursed Ran out for his business, there was a twisted feeling in the pit of your stomach as you regarded the scene in front of you: a set of men that just a few months prior had threatened to take your farm from you cowering like cowards under the threat of a gun.

It felt so disgusting to see them on their bellies like little pigs and Ran seemed to catch onto your own trail of thought as he simply pushed himself to shield you from the sight, but you pushed back.

«Let them see the bitch for which it isn’t worth dying» you spoke as his eyes sparked up with genuine hilarity «… the same bitch who holds their fucking Destiny in her hand».

«God to know that you haven’t extinguished your fire».

«They might as well try» you shot back as he went to promptly bring his hand to his mouth to kiss it.

«Were you on fucking it?» it seemed that albeit the urine on his pants, your future father-in-law wasn’t done «… you fucking … jezebel!».

«Can I shoot him, Ran?» the man holding him spoke as he looked up at Ran, who shook his head albeit he approached the man, lightly scrunching his nose as he took in the pitiful state of the man.

«Shooting him ain’t going to give us what we want».

«What do you fucking want, then» a step closer to death and this man’s audacity suddenly raised «I’ll fucking give you what you want. Want the bitch? You can have it!».

«The lady was mine and that wasn’t ever a thing to be discussed» it startled you the way Ran spoke. Not a doubt, unlike you, in the time that had passed that you’d come close again «… but you fucking scum have threatened what she holds most dear I ain’t leaving it like that».

«Imagine my surprise…» he cackled as he turned like a performer.

You saw - quite funnily - Rindou scrunching his nose in annoyance with his brother’s performance as he’d do whenever Ran would drag his spiel.

«… when I am told that the woman who I have promised myself to is marrying somebody else. Some shithead fucker who is told to be pervert… fucking plowing into even cows if drunk».

Your fiancé looked scandalized but he held his eyes on the ground having learned his lesson better than his old man.

«What I learn… after asking around is that… well, that… the son has a father… a powerful father who thinks that just because they have enough money to buy a cave, they have enough to buy people as well» treated like a cattle, might have been the correct definition «… but it ain’t working like that, you know there’s something stronger than money in this world…».

And just like that he grabbed onto the pink haired man’s gun and shot two bullets startling everybody in the room and after a moment of pure panic, you came to see that he hadn’t hurt your future father-in-law, although the bullets were close enough to where it might have hurt.

Or killed.

«Whoever fucking pulls the trigger is the man in this world» he grabbed onto the other man’s chin «Don’t you ever fucking forget».

And he gestured for another man to come forward; he was dressed far more elegantly than the others and his ìonge white blonde hair trailed after him in almost a mockery.

He got something out of his clothes and passed it to Ran with disdain quick to scurry away.

«Sign it» even farther apart, you could see that it was a paper that Ran held out expectantly.

«What is it?».

«Don’t think that Ran over there asked you to be nosy» the prinkhaired man promptly cackled while Ran simply smirked.

«Can’t read?» he teased slightly, waving the document in the man’s face mockingly «… it’s a statement to vanquish all the debt that is owed to you by my girl and her father. And alongside this the promise to leave their farm alone».

You startled, as everything clicked in place; Ran hadn’t come back alone and neither without a plan.

If anything, in some twisted way, he had respected all the promises that he had made to you.

Your gaze went to him and you found Ran already looking back at him while your former father-in-law asked for a pen, no doubt wishing to sign the contract over as quickly as possible.

«There’s… there’s no wedding to be hand, then…?» the preacher all caught your attention, as he looked painfully uncomfortable under the threat of a gun «… if so, then…».

«Nobody said that a wedding isn’t to be had» Rindou shot up promptly with a crazed smirk «… brother, will you seriously let everything go to waste?».

And albeit Ran trying to hide it, it was clear he wasn’t enjoying the brotherly teasing, as his eyes ducked to you and you could tell for a moment that the boy he had used to be was right back in there. Somewhere.

You were about to tell him so, by coming closer, when you felt a hand onto your arm, stalling you in your place.

Your father looked … pale, as an understatement as he stalled into your steps and while you expected for a mess to happen, nobody went to stop him as he turned you to face him.

«… will you go with him?» he simply spoke, knowing that the matter wasn’t to be hidden.

You flustered clumsily at the bold statement, betraying yourself the moment that your eyes turned to Ran and found him suddenly standing beside you.

He still looked intimidating but he lacked the viciousness that he had used previously.

«… son, my daughter…».

«If it’s her choice, I shall treasure her and cherish her till the day I die» Ran sputtered back without a hint of hesitation «… I did have every intention to marry her and make an honest woman out of her».

«That’s the least to be expected after the ruckus you caused» although your father’s harsh words, he undoubtedly had given Ran some blessing as his eyes focused onto you again «… so, my dear…?».

«We can’t stay here, right?» you turned to Ran though, as he shook his head patiently.

«Sadly no, sweetheart» he spoke gently «… but I am sure you’ll enjoy the house I have built for us».

«You won’t put her in danger, right?» your father intervened as the weight of the situation downed onto him, aging him whole years although his grip onto your arm was quickly released, while Ran’s own hand came to your waist «… my daughter… she… she deserves the best».

«And onto that, I can’t help but agree, sir» it was probably the first genuine sign of honor and respect that Ran showcased to anybody «I ain’t risking what’s most precious to me».

«And I can’t leave him, daddy» you blurted out, suddenly feeling so young «I… I already… lost it all, when he left him and I… I … can’t go through that again».

«Then… I stand no chance to hold you back» no father wanted their daughter to marry somebody like Ran, you guessed, but your father knew something - that you wouldn’t have backed down - and he knew what fights to pick.

He had lost a wife and he couldn’t put another man through the same grief.

«I doubt that I’d be fucking able with the army he brought».

«We cause a bit of a mess, didn’t we» Ran had the gut to joke and much to your surprise you awkwardly elbowed him in his side, which did little although he over exaggerated a prompt reaction «… well, don’t worry sir, we’ll clean it up for you».

And like that men were brought away, made scurrying away with the threat of bullets and worse.

You stared at the mess, still in your wedding dress, at the entrance of what wouldn’t be your home anymore, although it’d stay within your father’s hold till he passed.

It felt reassuring and daunting, but all your worries calmed down when you felt warm arms embrace you while a perfume that felt familiar and yet more mature filled your nose.

«… I can’t wait to show you what I did in these years apart» Ran spoke gently, as he went to caress your sides as one would do with a distrustful horse «… we shall get Mickey’s blessing and fucking marry, as I promised. So, you won’t doubt ever again».

«Yeah, I know the error of my ways» you chided childishly, feeling his breath gently hover over your shoulder, before Ran stole a kiss to the expense of your neck, making you giggle softly «What’s a few more days when I have waited whole years for you, Ran Haitani».

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