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cinnamontails-ff · 1 month ago

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NSFW Alphabet - Astarion & Zoraya

Thanks for the tag @davenswitcher! I'm super late and this tag probably isn't cool anymore, but it didn't feel right to do this before chapter 25 of MA was out. This is of course assuming Zoya and Astarion have fully worked through their issues -- or, alternatively, you can picture it at as how things were before The Big One.

(Magistrate's Catvocate art by the wonderful @vyjuarts ❤)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Aftercare is sort of a new experience for them both. Astarion has never really seen a need for it with his conquests, while Zoraya was probably a little too standoffish to really indulge in it with her previous boyfriends. Needless to say, they have wholeheartedly embraced the concept since they got together. Cuddling, snuggling, sweet words and tender touches -- they love to prolong their intimacy for as long as possible.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Zoraya likes her legs and loves to accentuate them with a pair of high heels and well-fitting trousers (or a skimpy little dress if she wants to win a domestic dispute). Her favorite part of Astarion is probably his eyes. This is what reminds her most of the boy she first fell in love with all those years ago, so there's a deep emotional connection for her.

As for Astarion, he loves her hair. He adores the fact that he is one of the few people who gets to see her wear it down (or even be the one to undo her hair for her after a long day). It's a very intimate thing for him, and he also likes to play with her hair during sex or cuddling. When it comes to himself, he's very vain about his hands. He loves to talk about the sorts of things he can do with his fingers, of course, but he's also just really enamored with the look of them. Pale skin, long fingers, immaculate nails -- the picture of a man who's never really worked a day in his life.

C = Cum (Where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum?)

Astarion loves to come inside of her. He enjoys the intimacy of it. Zoya would be open to experimenting a bit more, but as with many things, Astarion is worried about treating her the way he used to treat his conquests, so he's not quite there yet.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory: a dirty secret of theirs)

Zoraya would really like to do a sexy role-play version of their "interview" in chapter 2, but she's scared that bringing it up will make him feel guilty for the type of person he used to be. I reckon a few years down the line it might be on the table :3

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Interestingly, they're both quite experienced with the physical aspects of sex -- Astarion more so than Zoraya, but she's had her share of partners over the years. It's the sex + feelings part that's a little new to them. This is of course featured in the infamous chapter 15 (:D), but I'm sure that also after that, there were a number of adorkable moments between them where they're grappling with this.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

I pride myself on my creativity and my ability to write different types of stories with different OCs, but here's my universal truth: Astarion loves missionary and his girlfriend loves being folded over a desk and fucked from behind.

Sue me; I think it's hot.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

They definitely have their silly moments! I think this is also where being friends first and lovers second comes in because they can seamlessly switch from one to the other.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

We all know about Astarion's lack of body hair, but I see Zoraya as someone who goes pretty natural. She keeps herself clean, but low effort otherwise.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Astarion is definitely the romantic between them. He loves to tell her how beautiful she is, how much she means to him, how happy he is to be with her. Usually, he'll get a little incoherent as he approaches his climax and it's not unusual for him to switch over into Elvish because the words come easier that way. Zoraya is more reserved and a little insecure about expressing her feelings for him, especially in the heat of the moment. But internally, she's just as involved.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

It's not off the table, but I imagine since they've moved in together, it has become a bit superfluous since they'll usually rather go at each other.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

They're two intellectuals, so obviously, they both have huge praise kinks.

Apart from that, Zoya is really into role-play because she loves the freedom to explore parts of herself she usually wouldn't let anyone see. Astarion is of course happy to facilitate pretty much any scenario she wants, but his major kink is simply being in a committed relationship with someone he actually cares for.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His courtroom.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

Zoraya gets turned on whenever she sees him go serious lawyer mode (hence, all the courtroom sex …). Astarion has a thing for her in a nightgown or one of his shirts from the previous night (cozy kink? Is that a thing?).

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing degrading or outright painful. Some light hair-pulling or bondage would be fine, but nothing beyond that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Zoraya used to be insecure about her ability to get him off, but it's quickly become one of her favorite ways to shut him up or throw him off his game :D To be fair though, I think Astarion's reaction to her has less to do with her being insanely skilled and more with his trust, his ability to let himself just feel when he's with her. And as much as he enjoys going down on her, in my head Astarion's favorite thing will always be just leaning back and letting her take care of him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually, they work their way up, but there are times when they go hard and fast from the get-go (e.g. when they sneak off at a banquet or something).

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Astarion has a thing for semi-public quickies. Specifically, he likes singling her out from a group of people they're talking to and then leading her away in a way that makes it incredibly obvious to everyone what is going to happen behind closed doors. It's his way of showing off and yeah, he is not at all subtle about it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

A big part of their relationship is how Astarion lures Zoraya away from her good girl / overachiever personality. Showing her that actually, nothing bad will happen if she strays away from the rules every now and then. This extends into their sex life as well, but for the most part, they like to play with being discovered (sorry, Gale!), not with each other's comfort or safety.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

I will say this: The personal best he mentions in chapter 15 has been beaten in the meantime.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

They like handcuffs. I wrote a whole scene on it, but it never fit anywhere, so it'll probably stay in my docs *sigh*

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Astarion loves teasing, of course, but Zoraya is quickly catching up with him. She really enjoys being able to unravel him by shooting him a look across the room or touching his ear in public. The teasing never lasts long though because neither of them is particularly patient.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Zoya is way louder with Astarion than she was with any of her previous partners. The woman is the definition of repressed emotions and with him, they are all coming out to the surface. At first, it's mostly just noises, but as they get more comfortable with each other, she also begins to tell him what she likes, how well he's doing etc.

As for Astarion, I like to imagine he used to make lots of over-the-top porn sounds for his conquests, but with Zoraya, he's much more quiet. He loves to whisper praise and encouragement, but apart from that, it's mostly soft moans and little gasps that get faster right before he comes.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

They have a stuffed bunny from Astarion's childhood in their bedroom (Sir Hopperson) and whenever things get steamy, Astarion gets up and makes sure the bunny faces away from them.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Zoraya has a scar on her thigh from where she was stabbed while defending him from the bandits in chapter 7. It's a spot Astarion always pays special attention to, kissing and caressing it every chance he gets.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I headcanon Astarion as someone with a fairly high sex drive, but with Zoraya, he's often equally happy just holding her or cuddling with her. Any sort of intimacy will do. Zoraya's sex drive depends a lot on how stressed she is at work, but overall, I'd say average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Zoraya tends to fall asleep fairly quickly. Astarion doesn't need as much rest, but loves being close to her anyway, so he often lies next to her, holding her or reading a book.

You guys have probably all done this tag already but for anyone who wanted to but forgot about it: Here's your tag ❤

#tag game #magistrate's advocate #my oc: zoraya #astarion #astarion fanfic

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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She Loves Me, She Loves My Knot | Pro Hero Alpha!Bakugou x Omega!Reader (nsfw, 18+)

hii!! i don’t see many people who write ABO for MHA so I’m glad i found you!!

Can we have a scenario where Bakugou’s omega is generally really tough and seems rather indifferent to everything — however she’s a little afraid of taking Katsuki’s knot for the first time and he tries his best to help her through that process? Sorry if it’s a little obscure but I love the idea of Bakugou being soft and caring but only for his spicy little omega.

Fem reader if you can but if you’d rather opt for gender neutral that’s fine too!! Please keep writing ABO, i love all your things! 🥺🤍

Um hi YES, I really love ABO stuff and I also wanted to see more, so I was like...welp, I guess it’s my time to rise and write my OWN haha! I went with a fem reader for this one, because I feel like that’s what I’m best at writing. If you want a gender neutral version too, let me know and I can post an alternate one!

send in a request here!

Warnings: nsfw, knotting, creampies, some breeding kink

Word count: 2,124

You were a spitfire, and that’s what he loved about you the most. His spicy, fiery little omega, who was better than every other omega to ever walk the earth. From the moment he met you, when he had nearly trampled you in the street in pursuit of an asshole villain and you had threatened to kick in the teeth of the number 4 pro hero, he knew you were something special. Nobody ever stood up to him like that, especially not when he was out on the job, but you? A little omega who smelled so sweet and looked so delicious? You weren’t afraid of him at all.

He wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he had scented you immediately, his inner alpha getting possessive already. Bakugou didn’t smell any other alphas on you, and he didn’t want to. With his strong, terrifying scent clinging to you, he knew nobody else would try to make any moves, and as you stood there glaring at him, he had given you a smirk, told you to “call my agency sometime, babe,” and then taken off.

Of course, you didn’t call his agency.

You showed up in person, marching right in and demanding to see him that very evening. Though at first you had seemed angry with him, you quickly told him (with a harsh glare and a snarl that he found absolutely adorable) that he was going to court you, and it was going to start now.

And who was he to deny such a straightforward, cute omega? The two of you were together by the end of the week.

He almost found it hard to believe that you were an omega sometimes. You were so tough, so unbothered by the world. Whenever you were out and about and you caught an alpha leering at you, you were always quicker than Katsuki when it came to snapping at them to fuck off.

You weren’t the kind of omega who let anybody shove you around, and Bakugou loved that about you. It made him puff his chest up with pride, knowing that he had someone who wouldn’t take any shit. Your scent was strong and your will was even stronger, and he knew that when the time came, you would be the perfect, toughest, best mother to his pups.

You weren’t even mated yet, and he was absolutely sure that you were the one he wanted to spend his life with. You brought out something different in him, some kind of gentle, caring side that he never, ever let anyone else see. You were big and bad, yeah, but he was bigger and badder, and he was always going to protect you, no matter what.

“Babe, I’m home,” he called one night, trudging into your shared apartment. You had moved in together quickly, getting a place in one of the nicest parts of the city.

He heard you coming before he saw you, and before he even had his boots off, you were launching yourself at him. He caught you easily, grinning at the way you peppered his neck and jaw in kisses. It was probably the cutest, least tough thing you ever did, and god, did he love it.

“Miss me or Somethin’?” He teased, kicking his shoes off and carrying you to the bedroom.

“I had the day off and it was boring as shit,” you said bluntly. “I’ve been horny all day without you around to help...”

He paused, taking a whiff. “You’re not in heat. You just like me that much, omega?”

“Don’t be a dick.” You nipped at his jaw sharply and he recoiled.

Some alphas would never let their omega treat them like that, but Bakugou? Oh, he loved it.

He grinned, tossing you down onto the bed before you had a chance to take a chunk out of his face. “So needy...bet you spent all day touchin’ yourself, thinkin’ of me...”

“No I did not,” you huffed indignantly, looking up at him. “You think too highly of yourself.”

He laughed. Your arousal was hanging heavy in the air, betraying your words. The smell of it was like a drug, and as he inhaled, you could see Bakugou’s pupils dilate.

The sight turned you on even more, warmth pooling between your legs as your cheeks flushed. Scarlet eyes, calculating and predatory, pinned you down, holding you in place as your boyfriend grinned, exposing his big alpha fangs.

Fuck, he was hot.

“Sounds like you need to be reminded why I’m your alpha, baby.” He growled, crawling over you.

"Fuck, Katsuki,” you whined as he attacked your neck, biting at your scent glands and grinning at the way you squirmed.

He sucked your skin between his teeth, working at it, determined to leave covered in hickeys for the world to see. You didn’t have a mating mark yet, but oh, did he love making sure that everybody knew exactly whose omega you were.

You bit your lip at the dull pain, back arching up off the bed slightly. “K-Katsuki...”

“Hmm?” He looked up at you. “Look at you, so pretty and flustered for me already...what a good little omega...”

He knew exactly how to tease you. You spent all day sassing Katsuki, showing him how independent you were, but deep down, he knew you needed him just as much as he needed you. In the bedroom, he could make you absolutely melt with only a few words, and it was one of his favorite things to do.

“I can smell how much you want me,” he purred. “So desperate, so needy...”

His fingers slipped up under your shirt, pushing your clothing out of the way as his hands found your tits. He gave them a generous squeeze, grinning when you let out a loud gasp. He could play you like a fiddle, and he reveled in the sweet noises you made for him.

Your hands reached for him, tugging at his pants. He took the hint and stepped back, giving you a heated look that said “clothes off. Now.”

A few moments later, you were both naked, a tangled mess of sweaty limbs. Katsuki’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you close, your nails digging into his back. If he noticed the pain, he didn’t act like it, always allowing you to practically shred him to bits while he pounded into you. Secretly, he loved the marks you left, admiring his back in the mirror whenever he thought you weren’t watching.

You felt the head of his cock nudging at your pussy and moaned eagerly, burying your face in his neck.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked.

“Come on,” you whined.

“Tell me what you want,” he grinned, holding himself still.

“Katsuki!” You bucked your hips, trying to get closer to him.

He held you down. “Use your words.”

You dug your heels into his lower back in an effort to push him in, but he was too strong, resisting your attempts with a smug look on his face.

“I want your cock!” You finally relented, letting out a needy whine that you hoped would sway him.

“Good girl,” he growled, rolling his hips forward.

You shuddered at the feeling of him entering you. No matter how many times he fucked you, you would never be able to get over how big he was. It was part of the reason you hadn’t taken his knot yet, always asking him to pull out before it could swell. As he bottomed out inside of you, you were reminded of just how thick his cock was, and how much thicker that knot had to be.

As tantalizing as it was, it was also terrifying.

“Fuck,” he grunted, holding himself above you with a hand on either side of your head. “God damn, you feel so good...I’m not gonna last long at this rate, fuck...”

You were like putty in his hands when he talked like that. His voice was already so deep and rough, but his sex voice was godlike. You whimpered beneath him, tightening your legs around his waist as he pounded into you, clinging to him for dear life as his thrusts grew harder and harder.

“Katsuki,” you gasped, voice muffled by his neck.

“You like that?” He growled, slamming into you hard enough to scoot you up the bed slightly.

“Yes,” you moaned. “Yes, yes, please...more...”

He moved his head, tongue swiping up the side of your neck before he took your lips in a kiss. You whined and moaned into it, your skin heating up as you felt yourself unraveling, and when you finally did, you were seeing stars. He barely even had to try, and Bakugou gave you the best orgasms of your life.

Your walls squeezed around him as he rode it out, trying to milk his cock. It was good, it was delicious, it was too much for him to stand.

“L-let me knot you,” he moaned low in your ear.

You were coming down from your high, head feeling fuzzy. “Hm?”

“I wanna knot you,” he repeated, more impatient this time. “Please.”

You were beginning to snap back to attention again. “Katsuki...”

“What’s wrong?” He panted, trying to taunt you like usual. “You scared or somethin’?”

When you bit your lip, he slowed his pace, looking at you seriously.

“Really?” He asked.

You nodded hesitantly, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“You’re afraid of my knot? ...why?”

“You’re just...really big...” you mumbled, looking away to avoid his eyes. “It’ll hurt...”

“Hey,” he said gently, rocking his hips against yours slowly now. “Look at me, babe.”

He took your chin in his hand, turning your head.

“I’m your alpha.” He said roughly. “And I’m gonna take care of you.”

The look in his eyes made your heart flutter. “But...”

“I wanna knot you.” He said again, dipping down to nip at your earlobe. “I wanna fill you up...”

A shiver flew up your spine, that familiar tingle returning to your groin. Fuck, just his voice could make you cum, practically...and honestly, you were aching for him to knot you. You wanted to feel full, to be as close to him as possible.

“Be gentle?” You asked.

“Of course, baby.” He kissed your jaw, his hand slipping down to hold the side of your neck as he quickened his pace again. After only a few moments, he growled, leaning back and pulling out, leaving you feeling painfully empty. “Roll over.”

You obeyed, turning onto your stomach. When you moved too slowly, Katsuki pulled you up by your hips until you were on your hands and knees, ass presented for him.

“Gorgeous,” he growled appreciatively, guiding his cock back into you and moaning when he sank in even deeper.

You moaned loudly, burying your face in the pillows as he began pounding into you again. Your thighs were already quivering, and when you felt his fingers rubbing at your clit, you immediately lost it.

“Fuck!” You cried out, clawing at the bed. “More, please, Katsuki—“

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he pushed into you hard.

You felt his hips stutter before he held you against him in his vice grip, breaths ragged in your ear as he let out the loudest, most delicious, breathy moan you had ever heard. He pumped his seed into you, giving a few sharp thrusts as he emptied himself.

Then, you felt it.

“Easy, baby,” he said lazily, leaning against you as he tried to catch his breath.

His knot was swelling, stretching your pussy in a way you had never felt. You whimpered nervously, swallowing hard as you tried not to freak out. You were waiting for pain, but while it was beginning to feel impossibly tight, it...wasn’t terrible.

“That’s it,” your alpha crooned, smoothing a hand up your spine. “Fuck, you even take my knot so well...”

You started to relax as you calmed down, your body allowing his knot to grow to its full size. It was big, huge, even, but as Katsuki guided you to lay down on your side with him, you were beginning to feel smug. Yeah, you had the best alpha, and he had the best, biggest knot.

“How’s it feel?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Mm. Not bad.” You replied. The post sex haze was beginning to set in, and you were growing tired.

“Good girl.” He nuzzled against your scent glands, inhaling deeply. “Knew you could take it no problem.”

“I wasn’t even really worried.” You lied, trying to sound tough.

He snorted a laugh. “Yeah, right.”

You snuggled back against him. “I like it.”

“Yeah? Good. Because I am never going to stop knotting you now.”

#alpha!bakugou #alpha!bakugou x omega!reader #request #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader

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kenobihater · 3 years ago

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You’re (Probably) Drawing Archers Wrong

Hello, my name is Len and I’ve shot archery as a hobby for as long as I can remember. I have a problem: fanart depicting archery is oftentimes Very Wrong! I feel like most of this stems from not using good reference pictures, and from a general lack of knowledge. So, I wanted to create a post for anyone interested in accurately drawing an archer! Disclaimer: this is not a comprehensive post or a tutorial on how to shoot, and is intended for artists. That said, if you’re interested in archery, you may still find value in this post, though I recommend doing your own research. I’m certain there will be errors here considering I do this as a hobby not a profession, and I welcome corrections. Finally, archery can be dangerous, and even if you don’t read any more of this post, PLEASE read the safety section.

Safety

This part is going to be a PSA, because the thought of someone reading my post, getting into archery themselves, and doing these things? It terrifies me. So, rules number one, two, and three are: never aim at another person (duh), never use a damaged bow or arrows, and never, NEVER dry fire a bow. Dry firing means drawing back and releasing the string without an arrow. This can make your bow EXPLODE. It can hurt you, and even if your bow doesn’t explode, it’s fucked it up so bad that you should never shoot that bow again. Don’t do it, and don’t draw art of people doing it. Okay, PSA done, now onto the rest of the post.

There’s a TL;DR at the bottom!

First thing’s fist: the equipment! Archery requires four things: a bow, a quiver, arrows, and protective equipment (which is usually what I see most posts lacking). The first thing you should do before you draw your archer is decide what type of bow to give them. I’m not covering crossbows because I’ve only shot one once and I also Hate Them. There are three main types of bows: longbows, recurves, and compounds.

Bows

There are two different types of bows that are commonly called a longbow: English longbows, and flatbows (yes I’m considering flatbows a type of longbow to simplify things). English longbows are very large and have a very high draw weight (which means it’s hard to pull the sting back). These were used mainly by the English in the Middle Ages. Flatbows are typically smaller and have a lower draw weight as well as a slightly different profile. These were mainly used by Native American tribes such as the Hupa, the Karuk, and the Wampanoag, as well as prehistoric Europeans and the Finnish, among others. It is often seen in historical fiction and fantasy, and the English longbow is usually depicted as Robin Hood’s preferred bow type. I believe Katniss uses a flatbow in the beginning of Hunger Games, but don’t quote me on that.

Recurves have limbs that curve outwards and are smaller than longbows. Many, many cultures have used these, including but not limited to certain West-coast Native American tribes, the Mongols, the Scythians, the Greeks, the Turks, the Koreans, and the Chinese. Recurves can be made of either wood or of a combination of wood, horn, and glue, making them either composite or non-composite. These are the bows you typically see mounted archers using, and are often used in competitions today. It’s commonly seen in fantasy, and is the bow type used by Legolas, Tauriel, Katniss Everdeen in Mockingjay, Merida, Green Arrow has a lever action, and Hawkeye uses a silly collapsible one.

Compound bows are the most commonly used bow among hunters, are almost always made of fiberglass and either carbon fiber or aluminum, are Technical Looking, and pack the biggest punch for the least amount of effort. It’s a modern invention used worldwide. I don’t know where else to put this, but almost everyone who I know that shoots a compound uses something called a trigger release (pictured below) to draw back the string because it means your release is cleaner.

So, those are the main types of bow! Google which bow would be appropriat for the era and region your character is from, or if they’re from space or an alternate dimension, pick whichever you think fits the character the best.

Quivers

There are two types of quiver: back quivers, like Legolas wears, and hip quivers, like those used in the Olympics. Which quiver you should use varies from culture to culture and time period to time period. If it’s fantasy, set in modern day, or set in the future, you can chose whichever you prefer.

Arrows

Arrows can have shafts of wood or fiberglass, can have real feathers or synthetic for fletching, and can have countless different types of heads. The main two that are in use today are called field points and broadheads, and most commercial arrow shafts allow you to freely switch them out.

The arrow on the top is a field point, used only for target practice, and the arrow on the bottom is a broadhead, used only for hunting or war. You never hunt with a field point, and never practice with a broadhead. Basically every fictional character out there is shooting to kill, so they’ll all use either a broadhead, or a culturally appropriate variation of deadly arrowhead (bodkin, scythian, flint, etc). Do your research! A Native American wouldn’t use a bodkin, and a Scythian wouldn’t use a flint arrowhead!

Protective Equipment

The one really necessary piece of protective equipment is hand protection. If your character uses a three fingered draw or a pinch draw (we’ll speak on draws later), they need either an archery tab, or an archery glove. If your character is using a thumb draw, they need a thumb ring. These three pieces of equipment keep archers from getting blisters and damaged skin.

This is a tab.

This is the type of glove that I use. All an archery glove needs to do is protect your three draw fingers, but it can be more traditionally glove-like than this one. I’ve even seen ones that are a combination leather bracer and archery glove that give big Fantasy Vibes.

This is a ring. Some historical ones can get REAL ornate and pretty.

Another piece of protective equipment that is commonly used is an arm guard or a bracer. Not everyone uses one, because if your form is good the string should not be hitting your arm, so you can get away with not giving your character one. They can vary in style from something like the more minimal one below up to a full leather bracer.

Form

Form can vary greatly and I’m not about to diss other archery disciplines especially ones I’m ignorant on, so just know that not every culture has the same form. I’m just going to cover a few cultures’ variations, and what I’ve been taught by 21st century Midwest archers. There are several aspects to form, as form is just another term for “everything pertaining to how you shoot”. I’m going to break it down into stance, posture, draw, elbow discipline, holding the bow, and anchor. These are not the only aspects of form (there’s aiming, release, and breath control), but these are the only relevant aspects to drawing archers. I will not be covering mounted archery because I’m sadly ignorant on the topic. I recommend doing your own research and looking into Mongolian mounted archery.

Stance

The thing all stances have in common is that you should put your feet a shoulder-length apart, balance your weight equally between both feet, keep your knees slightly bent, and stand facing approximately 90 degrees away from your target. There are three stances that are common that I’m aware of: squared, open, and closed.

Squared stance means keeping both feet squared up to an imaginary line. Open means that you’re facing slightly towards the target. Closed means you’re facing slightly away. I vary between square and open, and to be honest I’ve never noticed a difference. So long as you draw your character standing with a stable stance, facing away from the target, you should be good.

Posture

Your posture should be with your back straight, your hips squared, and should never have you leaning. Below is one of my favorite archery pictures, not only because I love Marilyn, but because it is a great illustration of what not to do posture wise.

See how she’s leaning back? Yeah, don’t draw your character like that, it looks foolish.

Draw

There are four different types of draw that I’m aware of, I’m educated on three, and I have experience with one (though I’m itching to learn to thumb draw). The types of draw are three fingered draw, otherwise known as Mediterranean draw, pinch draw, thumb draw aka Mongolian draw, and Japanese draw, or torikake. I know fuck all about Japanese draws, so I’m not going to speak out of my ass on topics I don’t understand (if anyone reading practices traditional Japanese archery I would love if you chimed in!). I highly recommend doing your own research on which civilization your character comes from and which draw they use, especially if it’s Japanese because I’m not covering that here.

First up is three-fingered. This is the draw I use, and it’s the most common draw in my limited experience in the Midwestern archery community. It is common in Europe and the Middle East. It requires you to use three fingers, partially wrapped around the string. You do not pinch the arrow. Most people place their index finger above the arrow and their middle and ring finger below, though I’ve seen all different variations. If your character is right handed and uses this draw, draw the arrow on the left side of the bow. Lefties do the inverse, and make sure and draw a left handed bow while you’re at it.

Next is the pinch draw. I’ve never shot with this, nor seen it used. It was common in the Americas and for a time in Ancient Greece. You’re supposed to physically pinch the arrow between your thumb and index finger. Your character would need a full archery glove if you draw them with this grip. The release is supposed to be smooth because there’s only one point of contact, rather than three. I believe you would place the arrow on the right side of the bow when using this technique, but I cannot speak with certainty as I’ve never seen it done (again, lefties would do the opposite).

Last but not least is the thumb or Mongolian draw, though it is/was also widespread in Korea, China, Russia, Persia, Turkey, and the Roman and Byzantine Empires. In this draw you wrap your thumb completely around the string and tuck it behind your other fingers. You do not grab the arrow. This draw utilizes your strongest digit, and so it may be less strenuous than other draws. This draw is commonly used with mounted archery. If your character is right handed and using this draw, put the arrow on the right side of the bow (lefties, do the inverse).

Elbows

Another aspect of your draw that is important is elbow discipline. The elbow of your character’s string hand should not point up into the air. It should point straight back, like the picture below.

Now, the other elbow is important, too. Don’t draw them with a locked elbow, instead keep it slightly bent and rotated inwards, like the picture below.

Holding the Bow

Your character shouldn’t have a death grip on the bow. Instead, show it resting in the curve between the thumb and index finger. Here’s a wikihow article that describes the different ways to hold different types of bows that is more succinct than I could ever be. Ignore the crossbow (derogatory).

Anchor

Everyone needs an anchor. What’s an anchor, you ask? An anchor is a fixed spot that you draw your string back to whenever you’re going to shoot. It’s necessary in order to ensure consistency, which is accuracy’s best friend. Your anchor spot can vary. I anchor at the corner of my lip. Some people anchor underneath their chin. Some anchor to their ear. I’ve even seen some people in Asian disciplines anchor behind the ear or almost above the head, which is incredibly impressive. Bottom line, unless your character’s archery discipline has them draw behind the ear or above the head, you need to have them touching their head somewhere. The only wrong anchor is a short anchor. If you can’t draw the string back far enough to touch your face, that means you’re either trying to draw back a bow with too high a poundage, or the draw length is too short for you. The picture above of the person with the compound trigger release has a good anchor point on their face. The picture of the person with the arm guard has a good anchor point under their chin.

This person, on the other hand? Their anchor is out in space, that is to say they don’t have one (also their elbow discipline, posture, and stance are atrocious). I see this in fanart ALL THE TIME. It’s a pet peeve of mine. Don’t do this, have them anchor to their head or behind it somewhere.

Carrying The Bow

The best way is to just carry it in your hand by the bow (not the string). You can give your character a bow sling, or a back mount like Legolas has as well. You can slip the string over your shoulder and wear it across your back in a pinch, though this may damage the string. The only really wrong way to carry a bow is by the string, though you can damage your bow carrying it on your back if you’re stupid, and I’ve never tried to do so with a compound. Too pokey.

TL;DR

If you’re drawing a fantasy character, go buck wild. Still make sure to give them the right type of arrowhead, hand protection of some sort, a strong stance (no kneeling or sitting), good posture, a sensible draw, elbow discipline, an anchor point (don’t be like the person above!), and a good way to carry their bow, but you can have fun with the rest. If you’re drawing a character from history, research the archery discipline they would most likely use, and draw them with the appropriate bow type, quiver, arrows, protective equipment, stance, posture, draw, elbow discipline, anchor, and bow carry.

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

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Love Sick

Masterlist

Summary: A story about how Spencer’s worst decision ever somehow ends up being his best.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves! This fic is loosely based on a request I got about Spencer faking an illness to keep the reader from going on a date.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: swearing

Word Count: 4k

Spencer has done a terrible, awful thing.

He wants to argue that he doesn’t know what came over him, but that would be untrue and he’s already met today’s quota on little white lies. Spencer knows exactly what possessed him to call you up at seven thirty on a Saturday night, and it wasn’t so that the two of you could discuss the weather or the recent upward trend in the stock market. Spencer’s spontaneous (panicked) phone call to you was a brazen attempt to abate the green-eyed monster that had been whispering dreadful things in his ear for the better part of a week.

To put it simply; Spencer is jealous, and he’s dealing with it rather poorly.

So poorly that he’s resorted to sabotage.

As he sits on his couch and worries at a hole in the bottom of his designated lounging sweatshirt, Spencer attempts to justify his actions. His tiny fib won’t hurt anyone . . . except, perhaps, one annoyingly perfect and stupidly handsome veterinarian. But Spencer can live with that. Potentially scorning an animal care specialist isn’t the thing that has his stomach in knots. That, he can live with. Spencer doesn’t even have pets, so there’s no longterm consequences as far as the vet is concerned. The notion of lying to you, on the other hand?

Spencer is positively sick with nerves.

He’s not sure why. Spencer’s gotten rather good at lying to you. Several months of pining for you from across the hallway of your shared apartment complex has turned him into quite the master of deceit, after all. He was a sucker from the moment he opened his door and lay his eyes on you, arms outstretched and wielding a plate of homemade sweets. The cookies were lovely, but the breathtaking smile on your face is what really did him in.

Since that first day, Spencer’s gone out of his way to ensure that he’s on the receiving end of that smile as often as possible. His efforts are never in vain; for reasons unbeknownst to him, you seem to enjoy spending time with him just as much as he did you. This mutual fondness results in most of Spencer’s off days being spent in your company. Spencer was certain that, with time, he would work up the nerve to ask you out on a date. He’s halfway to convincing himself that you might even say yes when your cat makes the unfortunate decision to steal a brownie from your plate and gulp the whole thing down.

Enter, aforementioned veterinarian.

The sound of your door opening from across the hall has Spencer breaking out into a cold sweat. His hand is halfway to his forehead, ready to wipe away the perspiration when he pauses. His body’s anxious reaction might just help him sell his story. Yes, Spencer thinks, this is a good thing. Authenticity, and all that.

Several soft footsteps are muffled by the door that separates him from you, and then his doorknob jiggles as you struggle to fit your key into the lock. A jolt of adrenaline surges through Spencer and in the blink of an eye he’s on his feet and sprinting to his bathroom in the name of authenticity. If he wants to keep up this ridiculous façade, and he really, really does, Spencer is prepared to fake it until he makes it. The alternative is far too mortifying. Failure is not an option.

Spencer cringes when he lifts his eyes to meet his reflection. He’s been told more than once that he’s an absolutely terrible liar, and the wide, guilty eyes that stare back at him confirm this. All it will take is one look at him and you’ll know something’s amiss. Perhaps it isn’t too late for Spencer to come clean. It would be embarrassing, yeah, but no less embarrassing than it would be an hour from now when you call him on his shit. But then again, there is always the possibility that you will get angry with him and leave, and Spencer isn’t willing to risk you walking away from him. Not tonight.

Spencer barely has the time to splash some cold water on his face and dive to the bathroom floor before you’re pushing open the door to his apartment and calling out his name. His brain, the part that isn’t rendered useless in his panicked state, reminds him of just how many germs can be found on the average bathroom floor. It’s enough to make him pause, but only for a moment. He takes a deep breath before slumping over against the toilet.

Showtime.

“M’ in here,” Spencer calls out in his croakiest voice. It comes out exactly as he intended, all rough and pitiful. Maybe he can pull this off, after all.

The soft pitter patter of your bare feet makes his heart rate increase exponentially. Spencer steels himself, recites a reassuring mantra in his head. I can do this; I can do this.

Spencer’s poor, overworked heart gets a much-needed rest when you step into the doorway. In fact, he’s almost certain it stops completely at the sight of you in a tiny red dress. A tiny red dress that leaves very little to the imagination. Spencer can’t even see past his mounting panic to enjoy the way you look. That damn red dress serves as a brutal reminder of why he’s sitting in his bathroom floor, clutching his toilet bowl and damn near drowning in a nervous sweat.

The thing is, Spencer hadn’t intended on sabotaging your date with the vet. He had every intention of staying in, wallowing in his sorrows and waiting up for you. Spencer even said this to Derek, who was kind enough to call him and remind him of how big of a jackass he was. Spencer didn’t need the reminder. He was well aware.

But then Derek said something that made Spencer’s blood run cold.

“And what exactly do you plan to do if she doesn’t come home?”

So, really, it’s Derek’s fault that Spencer promptly ended the call and dialed your number. It’s also Derek’s fault that Spencer is about to give the most convincing performance of his entire fucking life.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just feel so awful.” And he does feel awful, just not in the way you think.

You’re quick to close the distance between the two of you, dropping to your knees and brushing stray pieces of hair away from Spencer’s clammy forehead. His skin sings where your hand grazes it. If he didn’t have a fever before, he will if you don’t stop touching him.

“Don’t ever apologize, Spence. I wish you’d have called me sooner,” you murmur. Warm, concerned eyes drag across Spencer’s bedraggled appearance. “How long have you been feeling sick?”

Spencer gulps. “A few hours, I guess. I ate my leftovers from last night for lunch. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.”Lies, lies, lies!

Your brow furrows. “That’s strange. I ate mine, too, and I feel fine.”

Spencer doesn’t really have an argument for that, so he fakes a pained groan and rests his head against his arm. He closes his eyes and prays the intro to theater class he took in high school will pay off.

You must deem his act convincing enough because you press a soft kiss to the top of his hair and stand. Spencer hears the sound of a cabinet opening, followed by the sound of running water.

The tender touch of your hand on his shoulder has him raising his head and looking up at you, inquisitive. You place a cold washrag to his forehead, and Spencer melts into the touch. It feels heavenly against his hot skin.

“Do you think you could manage to take a shower?” you prompt, earning a feeble nod from Spencer. He doesn’t even have to fake the way he trembles as you run the damp cloth down his neck. “I think I have some broccoli and cheddar soup at my apartment. I’ll go change and grab it while you shower.”

Elation spreads through Spencer, pouring from his heart until it reaches the very tips of his extremities. He can’t believe his scheme hasn’t blown up in his face already.

With the help of your outstretched hand, Spencer rises to his feet and braces himself against the shower door. You make no move to remove your hand from his, and that gives him the courage to ask his next question.

“What about your date?”

You shrug and an easy smile spreads across your face. Spencer feels faint. He blames it on his imaginary illness.

“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I’m concerned with right now is taking care of you.”

Spencer bites down hard on the flesh of his cheek to keep a smug grin at bay. This is a victory he’ll have to celebrate at a later date.

Spencer enters his living room, freshly showered and donned in clean pajamas, to the sound of your voice speaking quietly into your cellphone. He halts just before he enters his kitchen, straining to catch a snippet of your conversation. As he leans closer to the sound of your voice, Spencer halfheartedly chastises himself. First, he deceives you, now he’s resorting to eavesdropping. Rock, meet bottom.

He’s just about to wrench himself away and retreat to the couch, when:

“I really am sorry about cancelling, especially on such short notice.” A short stretch of silence follows. “Next Saturday? Oh. Um, yeah, I’ll let you know, okay?”

Spencer is very much like a popped balloon; the earlier feelings of elation leave him in a harsh gust. Next Saturday? He barely managed to derail this Saturday’s date! No way he could get away with it a second time.

In the midst of his inner turmoil, Spencer misses you exchanging goodbyes with the vet before collecting Spencer’s bowl of soup. He’s still standing there, absolutely crestfallen, when you round the corner. You nearly collide with his chest, narrowly avoiding it by skidding to a halt in front of him. Your eyes run up his frame, assessing him, until they rest on his face.

“You scared me, Spence,” you chuckle. You cock your head to the side. Spencer imagines his expression is none dissimilar to that of a disgruntled frog. “You feeling okay? You’re not going to puke again, are you?”

Honestly, he might. The idea of you rescheduling your date with the vet is about as vomit inducing as it gets.

“I’m fine,” Spencer says on an exhale. Funnily, it’s probably the biggest lie he’s told all day. “The shower helped.”

His delivery is flat, but you don’t seem to mind. You smile up at him, relieved, and Spencer’s chest aches.

“I was thinking you and I could watch a movie?” you offer, and Spencer nods his assent. He can’t fathom turning you down. Not when you’re wearing an old sweatshirt you stole from his closet and a pair of fuzzy socks with little hearts on them. The ache intensifies.

“What are we watching?”

You plop down on the couch and look at him expectantly. He follows in suit, settling in beside you.

“I was thinking that you could choose,” you murmur as you place the bowl in his hands. Spencer shoots a teasing smile your way as he raises the spoon to his mouth.

“You mean, you’re actually going to let me pick the movie? I should get sick more often.”

His cheek earns him an exaggerated roll of your eyes.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter. “You always pick the movie.”

He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s gotten to pick the movie.

Spencer is about to launch into an impassioned rebuttal when the feeling of your fingers scratching against his scalp renders him speechless. His eyes dart to your face as you concentrate on scrolling through the TV guide, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple act has on him. Meanwhile, Spencer’s brain is short-circuiting.

You begin to read off a list of potential movies to him, but Spencer barely hears you. He’s practically purring as you twirl his curls around lithe fingers, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as an intense feeling of euphoria washes over him. Maybe it’s because he’s touch starved, or maybe it’s because it’s been so long since someone just looked after him. Whatever it is, Spencer embraces it wholeheartedly.

“-heard it’s pretty good. So, what do you say, Spence?”

Spencer pulls himself back to the present, blinking lazily at you. You’re looking at him, expectant, and Spencer’s eyes flit to the TV. His eyes skim its contents, reading briefly about a movie in which some family moves into a haunted house.

His face breaks out into a grin and he nods, because Spencer’s known you long enough to recognize that watching a horror movie usually results in you pressed tightly to his side and clinging to his hand. He also knows that nine times out of ten, you choose to watch a horror movie over anything else. No wonder he always lets you choose.

And sure enough, not even ten minutes in, Spencer is ditching his bowl of soup and pulling you into his arms. Once you’ve draped a blanket around the two of you settled in, you glance up at him.

“How are you feeling, Spence?”

Spencer responds by saying that he’s suddenly feeling much better.

Spencer Reid - 1, Veterinarian – 0

Spencer’s not sure at which point he fell asleep. All he knows is that he certainly does not remember sprawling out across your body, nor does he remember tucking his head into the crook of your neck. But this is how he finds himself when the sun begins to pour in through his windows the next morning, and Spencer can’t bring himself to care about how he came to be there.

Spencer guesstimates that it’s no later than seven in the morning. You’re still fast asleep underneath him, your chest rising and falling rhythmically with every breath. It’s early, and it’s Sunday, and Spencer can’t think of a single reason to wake you. Instead, he snuggles in closer, because he’d be a fool not to enjoy this while it lasts.

Unfortunately, the shrill sound of Spencer’s ringing phone shatters the serenity. He prays that it won’t disturb you, that you’ll remain oblivious and continue to sleep, but that hope is shattered when you begin to shift underneath him. Spencer makes quick work of peeling himself off of you before dashing to his kitchen and snatching his phone off the table.

He’s prepared to verbally assault whoever has the audacity to defile the sanctity of lazy Sunday mornings when a quick peek into the living room finds you still fast asleep on his sofa. He smiles, soft and fond, before pressing the accept button and bringing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“I was beginning to wonder if you were still alive.” Spencer’s smile transforms into a grimace. Apparently, Derek Morgan doesn’t believe in lie-ins. “I was preparing myself for a rescue mission.”

“It’s seven in the morning. I was asleep.”

Derek lets out a low whistle. “Who pissed in your Cheerios, Pretty Boy?”

“You, when you decided that it was acceptable to ring me before eight,” Spencer whisper shouts. He knows that he’s being touchy, to say the least, but who can blame him? Five minutes ago, he was cuddling with the most beautiful girl he’s ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. Now, he’s shooting the breeze with a colleague. Obviously, Spencer would prefer the former to the latter.

“Jesus, kid. I’m going to take a wild guess and say that girl of yours didn’t make it home, after all. You okay?”

The guilty feeling returns and Spencer cringes. “Uh, define ‘okay.’”

Derek curses on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, kid. Try not to beat yourself up about it, okay? There’s plenty of fish in the sea, you’ve just gotta put yourself out there. How’s this; you and me will go out next weekend and bar hop. I’ll teach you some Derek Morgan tricks of the trade. Soon enough, you’ll have forgotten all about her.”

“I don’t know, that might be hard.” Spencer scratches the back of his neck. “She’s asleep on my couch right now.”

A long stretch of silence comes from the other end of the line, and Spencer thinks for a moment that the call dropped. Unfortunately, he isn’t that lucky. A booming laugh erupts from the speaker and makes him jump out of his skin.

“My man!” Derek laughs, incredulous. “I didn’t think you had it in you, I’ll be honest.”

“It’s not what you think-”

“How did you manage that? Did the Good Doctor make a grand romantic gesture? Damn, I really hate that I missed that.”

“No, there were no gestures. And it’s not-”

Derek cuts him off. Again. “How’d she take the news? I’m assuming she took it well, if she stayed the night.”

“I didn’t tell her anything!” Spencer spits out, frustrated. “I… I told her I was sick. She came over to take care of me, and we fell asleep on the couch.”

Spencer’s proclamation is met with another long silence.

“So, you sabotaged the date?”

Spencer winces. “I did not sabotage it. I just… manipulated the situation a little.”

“Oh, you certainly did,” Derek chuckles. “How did you pull that off? I’ve seen you try to lie. That shit is laughable.”

Spencer opens his mouth to defend himself, but the pitter patter of socked feet approaching him from behind has his mouth running dry.

“Yeah, Spencer. How did you pull that off?”

Spencer had been correct in his earlier assumptions. The inevitable moment in which you called him out on his shit has arrived, and it’s every bit as mortifying as he expected. So mortifying that he can practically feel the blood drain from his face. And the thing is that he knows he deserves whatever you’re about to throw his way… it’s just that the thought of you being angry with him kind of makes him want to cry. And that would only add to the mortification.

He turns around slowly, his body rigid, until he’s met with the adorably rumpled vision of you with your arms crossed and your hair sticking up in all directions.

Spencer’s never seen anything quite so mesmerizing, and it hurts because he knows he’s ruined everything. He’ll never get to watch another scary movie with you tucked neatly against his side, or wake up in your arms again. He’ll never get to kiss you.

And the worst of all; Spencer will never get to tell you how he really feels. It’s a crying shame, because he thinks he could have been really good at loving you.

“Hey, Derek, I gotta go.”

Spencer presses the end call button and immerses himself in what has to be the most awkward stand-off of all time. You stand there, arms crossed, head cocked to the side with one hip jutted out. Spencer isn’t sure how you manage to look intimidating and endearing at the same time. He supposes the fuzzy socks are to blame.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. Spencer is approximately three seconds away from dropping to his knees and groveling when you finally speak.

“You sabotaged my date.”

Spencer lets out a strangled laugh. Perhaps humor is the way to go? It couldn’t hurt to try. In his opinion, the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. “I think sabotage is a strong word. I prefer the term obstruct.”

You let loose a laugh of your own, but this one holds no humor. “And I prefer keeping the company of people who don’t lie to me.” Okay, maybe it can get worse.

Spencer visibly deflates. It was a stupid idea. He’s never been a funny guy.

“I am so, so, so incredibly sorry.” Sorry for lying to you, that is. Spencer isn’t in the least bit apologetic for ruining your date. Given the chance, he’d do it again - in a more tactful way, of course. Preferably, in such a way that didn’t involve him laying in his bathroom floor.

Spencer attempts to take a step forward, only to be rooted to the spot when you fix him with a look. He’s not funny but he is smart – smart enough to know better than to push it.

“Why did you do it?”

Spencer was really hoping you wouldn’t ask that.

“I-I…”

Apparently, an eidetic memory doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to confrontations involving pretty girls. One quirk of an immaculately plucked eyebrow and Spencer loses the ability to recall a single word of the English language. It’s tragic, really.

“Spit it out, Spencer.”

“I didn’t want you to go on the date.” It’s like ripping off a band aid, the way the words tumble from his lips. It’s painless at first, but then the sting sets in when he realizes what he’s done.

Your lack of reaction doesn’t help. Your face remains passive, as if he didn’t just offer himself to you on a silver platter. Spencer squirms uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you want me to go on the date?”

God, this is excruciating. You’re clearly out for blood, and the twinkle in your eye shows just how much you’re enjoying this. Spencer would have never taken you for a sadist.

“Because…” Spencer trails off and allows his eyes to drift closed. If he’s going to do this, he’s going to do it his way. With his eyes closed, because he can’t bear the thought of looking you in the eye when you reject him. “B-Because I like you. A lot.”

Spencer hasn’t had a lot of practice at being wrong. In fact, he’s spent the majority of his life being right. It seems the universe is making up for that now, because he can’t seem to get a single goddamn thing right today.

You laugh at him. You actually laugh in his face. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You like me.” It isn’t a question.

Spencer keeps his eyes shut tight.

“Y-Yeah.”

You know how they say if you take away one of a person’s senses, all of the others are heightened? Spencer couldn’t disagree more. In the midst of his despair, he’s completely unaware that you’ve crossed the room and are now standing directly in front of him until you speak again.

“Well, that’s rather unfortunate,” you sigh. Spencer inhales a sharp breath when he realizes you’re close enough to touch. Still, he keeps his eyes closed.

“Uh, why is that?”

Spencer nearly jumps out of his skin when your hand reaches up and caresses the side of his jaw.

“Because, Spencer,” you murmur, silky and sweet. “I was hoping you just might love me.”

Spencer’s eyes fly open and he’s greeted by a lazy, contented smile. It’s similar to the one that greeted him when he opened his front door on that very first day, but it’s better somehow. Later reflection will determine that it’s better because it’s the kind of smile reserved just for him. And that’s all he’s ever wanted, really.

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” You tilt your head up and rest your palm on Spencer’s chest. His heartbeat is erratic, thundering hard against his ribcage. He’d surely be embarrassed if he wasn’t about to faint from shock. “Do you love me, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer doesn’t even have to think twice.

“More than anything.”

“Good.” Your thumb brushes across the apple of his cheek, eliciting a full body shudder. “I was beginning to think you would never catch up.”

Spencer must be hallucinating. That, or this is all a dream and any second now his alarm is going to go off. He subtly pinches himself on the thigh to test the theory. You can imagine his surprise when nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up in a pile of his own drool, and now the skin on his thigh stings.

“You . . . You like me, too?”

You shake your head. “No, Spencer. I love you, too. Why do you think I bake you cookies and spend all of my free time in your apartment?”

“Because my couch is better than yours?” Spencer deadpans.

“I mean, that certainly doesn’t hurt. But it’s not the only reason.”

“What about the vet?” It must be his guilty conscious talking, because Spencer cannot conjure up any other reason he has for asking such a moronic question. He, personally, could not care less about the vet. Full offense intended.

“Cameron is a nice guy, sure,” you trail off. Spencer doesn’t miss the way your eyes drift down to his lips before returning to his eyes. “But he’s not really my type.”

“And what is your type, exactly?” A giddy grin finds its way to Spencer’s face. He’s notorious for being chronically clueless, but even the master of imperception himself can see where this is going.

You snort, and it’s adorable. “Liars, apparently.”

It’s impossible to determine who moves first, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is the end result of Spencer’s lips colliding with yours. It’s earth-shatteringly lovely; slow and sweet and tentative. There’s no rushing, no frantic fumbling of hands. Just the reverent drag of your lips against his, warm and intoxicating.

Spencer eventually regains the use of his limbs and when he does, he’s snaking one arm around your waist as the other entangles itself in your wonderfully unruly hair.

You sigh a happy sigh against his lips and Spencer’s heart soars. In a completely unforeseen turn of events, the possibility of more lazy Sunday mornings is now back on the table. Thank God he’s better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

God, and Derek Morgan’s meddling ass.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

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(i had to repost lol- it wasn’t showing up on my page)

this the request: part 3 of thiccy gf hcs ??? with kuroo, terushima, sakusa, and daichi and/or atsumu 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 i must be fed

i understand your need for them

and as a member of the thunder-thigh committee, i am happy to write about my fellow sexy women! (another 4:56 am ramble i refuse to delete)

part one

part 2 <3

i mixed this with this ask ; Pt. 3 of the thicc af gf with Aone, Osamu, Kyotani, Daichi, Kuguri, and Terushima plz? 🥺

this got wayyyyyyyyy long

4, 685 words. my finger slipped?

Kuroo tetsuro

this guy has been trying to get you since first year

he’s that dedicated

and you didn’t even notice, he was just a flirty friend who helped you with science

(even when he would practically put you in his lap while he went over things)

lo and behold, he finally got his chance during the third year culture festival

yeah as in he waited a whole three years for this

Eh, once again, had a whole pan to make you see him as your great future husband, aka the haunted house (a good excuse to have you hold onto him)

He has to give it to class 2-4, the did a damn good job, it was scary

Long story short you fell on top of him, boobs in face hands-on ass

~heaven~

Mans actually asked you to be his girlfriend right there, groping you and murmuring between your boobs. (he wouldn't have gotten up if the next group wasn’t approaching.)

From then on he’d literally do anything for the ass

He’s a big simp and we all know it.

Like When you wear shorts he has to ‘pull them down’ aka feel you up while pulling the hem of your shorts down ever so slightly.

Or when he gets on a knee right behind you to ‘tie his shoe’, but the school shoes have no laces.

He could be a bit more creative and he wanted to look under your skirt.

When he wants to cut the bull shit he’ll just lift the back of your skirt and rub around for a but, to hell with all the other kids in the hallway.

(did I mention that he puts things on the highest shelves so he can walk up behind you and practically dry hump you.)

Speaking of simp nation

You can't really wear anything without setting him off

Shorts drive him absolutely nuts, it's insane. But it isn't his fault that most of your shorts are spandex that cut off right at the beginning of your thighs, it's like a homemade booty lifter. He just can’t help but wanting to cop a feel.

Or the color red in general. It is ridiculous, the guy rips everything when he tries to take it off too. So that stunning red cocktail dress with the lace-up sides was not unwearable, and you only had it on for like 2 hours. And that was only because it was a friend's 18th birthday party you were both invited to.

(thanks to kuroo not letting you out of his arms you both were late and left early.)

((in his defense you looked like a full course meal and it was giving him severe blue balls, and he’s only seen you for a few minutes))

Halloween, you know. the one night you could dress up as anything. any you decide to go as a cat-girl in a maid costume. And you expected him to just take that sitting down? Hell no. the red thigh highs AND the corset middle? You're lucky it lasted as long as it did.

That my dear was bravery. His color. A cat. And a short skirt. With thigh highs!

And so, he did what he did all those other times, dragged you to sit on his lap, and opening your thighs, and like a good girl you’ll let him

If you could already tell, he gives no shits to whos watching, let ‘em see (they really never do but you get the point)

He’s also a prime thigh groper, especially when he wants to keep your legs open, he also loves thigh hic

Terushima Yuji

Another shower-offer

You were already he's so why can't he let everyone know?

Speaking of you being his, he doesn't tell people how you guys don’t together, with good reason considering you practically beat him up

Not really but that’s what he calls it, basically he tried to get with one of your friends at a party.

She just happens to not be interested in men and has a wonderful girlfriend, so she was uncomfortable but couldn't tell him to leave her alone

So you took fate into your own hands, literally, you stole Fate from class 3-2’s drink and poured it on him before slapping him and telling him about how he was a pig.

And he fell in love, you looked like an angel, a really hot angel, it didn't help you were in a white dress either

And from then on he literally once or twice, got on his knees for you, asking to give him a chance.

Honestly, it got annoying, so you just agreed to make it go away. It did, but you also gained a perv of a boyfriend who has an insatiable love for your lower half

He’s a simple creature, do take caution of his fragile being

So that means all those times you bend over in front of him he was slowly cracking and trying to figure out where the nearest storage closet is.

He thought he was having heart palpitations when he saw you in the damn dress again, apparently, he didn't see all of it. Specifically the v-neck top, and the fact it only went to the end of your ass. Needless to say, he made sure to walk behind you on every staircase that you went on

Another set off is yoga legging, like the lululemon ones, that people wear all the time. They fit you great, really really great. They were supposed to work out in them???? Why were they so skin-tight????? And he also figured out that you wore things because of them. Instant nut.

How you ask, simple.

One time he saw your underwear line through the pants and he pointed them out, they did make it seem like your ass was super soft so he saw his chance and took it.

So the next time you wore them and he didn't see the lines he was like ??????

And thus began the “Yuji hunt for lineless underwear” and he found the thongs

And you received the fucking of your life soon after.

Oh! And there’s any time you go to the beach. Literally every time.

No cap.

The first time was when you wore a red one-piece and he practically went feral. It wasn't really a one-piece if it was see-through and had the lowest neckline on the planet.

Everyone was looking at you.

He practically fucked you on the beach but held off until you got back to the hotel room.

He’s way more forward when he wants to fuck, if you could imagine. He’ll just walk up to you and tell you he wants to get some, like right now.

If you can even ignore him, he’ll throw an arm around your waist and grope around your legs, all the way to the apex.

It is also not below him to try and get you off while still wearing underwear that he will be taking after.

(i didn't say anything about his stash off orgasm ruined underwear? My bad.)

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Going beyond the fact he even has a girlfriend, y’know considering, but the fact that no one knew who you were until you showed up at nationals to cheer him on

(atsumu was even starting to think that you didn't exist and that poor kiyoomi just imagined you up, so can imagine his shock when you ran up to said boy after they won)

The whole dating thing wasn't the shocking part; it was the fact that you looked like you walked off of the Milan runway.

And you were wearing leggings and sakusa's jacket, all of a sudden everyone was interested in how that happened

It was a kind of a boring story, someone had spilled coffee in a shop that you both happen to be in

And he watched you offer the man the same disinfectant wipes that he uses!

And in the most sakusa way possible he followed you out of the shop and tried to talk to you.

An exchange of numbers and many awkward conversations (and boners) later, you were a couple.

Back to that hug, like the many others, he's let you have, it’s all just to feel how soft you were

But poor touch -starved sakusa doesn't know what to do with any of these pent up feelings.

And he has a loooooooot of them.

Multiple occasions have shaped the poor germ-boy into the horny-tornado he has become

so he’s not really into what you’re wearing, it’s more about what you’re doing

like when you wore the mask he bought you to one of his games, and you wore one of his alternate uniforms, but the kicker was how you stayed away from everyone and didn’t let a single person near you (or his shirt)

or when you helped him clean his dorm when he was doing his weekly deep clean

or when the two of you washed the dishes while trying to do one of those “try not to sing” challenges

(is it normal to get a boner when your girlfriend helps you clean? no?)

but, as much as he tries to remain emotionless on the subject, there are multiple exceptions to the “it’s not what she wears” whole thing

Like that violet puffy skirt, you wore to a study fate, the one with the white sweater? That one, the same one that he could see your panties, from anywhere he sat. and Every time you got up you would have to smooth it down to make the creases go down, but it was only ever really giving him a good idea about the shape of your ass.

(if he sees you in that skirt again he’s just going to fuck you in it)

The lesser-known horny-inducer, since he made you take it off within the first five minutes, was a dress! What kind of dress? A neon yellow see-through mesh dress. The bottom wasn’t what got him though, it was the fact that your white bra was clearly seen under the mesh top. Or maybe it was the way the skirt made your waist look super small, and how your hips looked so round and squeezable.

Yeah, no one else could experience you in that.

Not to sound like this, but sakusa is still averse to touch

BUT BUT BUT

That goes out the window when he wants to dance the devil's tango with you.

Mr. His way or no way shows up, he does it every so slightly different

If it’s just the two of you, he’ll put a hand on your shoulder and he’ll push you to your knees. And he’ll pet your head and tell you what’s about to happen and advise you to listen like a good girl.

But in the instance you are in the presence of others, he’ll stand behind you and bring you super close to him, ass to dick. (maybe he’ll grind into you a bit, just to convince you to follow him) and he’ll throw a few words in about how much of a bitch in heat you are for getting turned on in front of all of these people.

It’s best to just do what he wants before he makes you cum in your underwear.

Daichi Sawamura

oh my

you guys are the power thigh couple

powerful and defined mixed with soft and pillowy

In Fact, that’s literally how the two of you met, thanks to Tanaka and Nishinoya of course.

(let’s just pretend karasuno has a cheer squad, and you just happened to be the captain of said team)

So basically you were doing a favor for the student council, and you were supposed to ask how many third years, managers included, were on each team and each club in the school

Easy! Turns out not so much. You were still in your cheer practice uniform, which was the shortest spandex ever made, and a Karasuno school t-shirt that was ever so slightly too tight.

Anyway, you make it to the gym and open the door, and the little one, Yachi, saw you and literally screamed. (she was right by the door), and that alerted everyone else in the gym, which led to the bald boy and his short companion pushing you further into the gym.

But in the better sense, it did gain the attention of the captain! Just the exact moment he was in front of you someone pushed; your back and within a second, in some miracle like way, you both ended up on the floor and he ended up planked on top of you with a leg between your spread thighs.

Almost kissing nonetheless.

Then, like the gentleman he was, he got off and asked you if you alright and kneeled down and let you use his shoulder to try and stand back up.

You did get up, for a split second, Daichi still kneeling letting you use him as a step stool when a certain red-head was flung right into you and you went toppling forward.

Onto Daichi.

Onto Daichi's face.

Your thighs around his head.

His hands-on your ass.

Hand in his hair.

He could sit there forever, you were frozen, everyone else was frozen.

You eventually climbed off and asked how many third years there were. But he just sat there, his hands hadn’t moved either, luckily Suga answered and you were on your way.

And Daichi still didn’t move, after that incident, you had begun to see him everywhere, and eventually, he just cut the shit and asked you out.

Daddy Daichi likes seeing you in literally anything from sweatshirts to lingerie.

His favorite was the brown buttoned pencil skirt and the white blouse, that you wore to a date. You were kind of overdressed for the ramen shop and after a walk, but he didn't even care. He was so thrown off by how turned on he was he couldn't speak in full sentences.

An example:

“Yeah, the food here is- boob, I-I mean great, not boob, great, yes, great.”

The second.

Was a bathrobe.

Can you see where I'm going with that? Simply you look hot.

His favorite part of the night was ripping it off of you.

And like the first time you met, he had his head in your thighs <3

Atsumu Miya

You met poor atsumu at a party.

He tried to shoot his shot, y’know he sees a cute lady he’s just gotta try and show you what you could be getting

he had it all planned, he was going to walk up behind you and run his hands over your delicious curves and ask you if you were in need of any help

he doesn’t take into account that a having a random guy just start groping you and pressing himself behind a girl was panic-inducing

so when he dropped your waist, you freaked out and may or may not have punched him in the dick

while he was in a. world of pain you age to figure out what the hell had just happened to you

then you noticed him on the floor, and when he noticed you looking at him he put this forced cocky smirk on and gave you a “how you doing”

You took pity on the poor creature and helped him up and got him some ice, then conversed with him for the majority of the rest of the night.

And he just hasn't left you alone since

(and, you learned this far later, that he went so far to tell Sakusa and Kageyama all about you and how amazing you are, and has even sent them- more than one- picture

But in other news, he’s very horny

So really all that means is he always has his hands on you

Like during practice breaks when you're allowed to come down and talk to him for a bit, give him some things, but it normally just consists of him sitting on the bench and you standing in front of him.

While his hands rest on your hips and his face is shoved into the valley between your breasts, and he just sits and listens to you as you brush a hand through his hair.

Or sometimes, if he had been having a rough time, he’ll just have his hands under your skirt and he’ll feel around for a bit while grumbling about how people cant hit his sets

But for being the possessive bastard he is, he sure likes letting you wear all those outfits

Like the booty shorts and tank top, you wore to bring them food during the summer training camp. That same camp that the two of you disappeared at and he came back looking like he had won the lottery.

Or the cute little red dress you wore to your anniversary date? The one that made him have a hard-on the entire time you were at dinner. He knows the waiter remembers, he also bets the waiter remembers seeing him fucking you in the car when his shift was over.

And that time you wore his jersey to bed and sent him a picture of it. It was such a good picture that he made it his lock screen for everyone to see.

He just likes looking at you tbh.

Aone Takanobu

you guys didn’t meet in some weird perverted way, it was actually really cute!

Not to sound creepy but he knew that you were in the garden club because you sat right in front of him in class

And since he didn't talk to anyone else in that class he was just content with listening, and so there he was

Standing outside of the garden club door holding his withering basil plant. Lost.

Lucky for him you were walking down the hallway and greeted him, looking all pretty and cute

You did help him realize that he was overwatering the basil and within a few weeks, it was back to life!

From that first time on, he came to the club room with you twice a week and walked home with you, just listening to all the random plant facts that you had harbored in your mind.

Eventually, with the help of the team, he asked you out, and you hugged him and said yes, and that was the beginning of the “oh god, y/n is way softer than I thought”

So he really just tries to be near you or be touching you at all times

(i am also a firm believer that he likes to slow dance to classical music in your living room)

Like during lunch periods when you sit next to him and the second you finish eating hell push you to lean against him

And he’ll rub small circles on your hips and give you small innocent gropes

Or how he hugs your waist when you're doing literally anything, and he puts his head on top of your head while swaying

I can also tell you that Aone is a good singer

So he hums to you (I'm uwuing over my own headcanon lol)

He also really likes just running his hands along your body, so he likes when you wear the one-piece dresses so he has smooth sailing down your body

As a man of little words, he clearly has a more physical approach to getting you on the horny train

What I am trying to get at is that more often than not he literally just picks you up and carries you away.

Of course, that leaves you to come back to whatever you were doing.

That is after the cuddles and after sex ‘conversations’ about the dumbest things

Basically, he likes to hear you talk and he really likes being near.

Osamu Miya

He knew who you were

With a brother like atsumu, who never shuts up about you, it's hard not to

(Osamu is pretty sure atsumu had a picture of you next to his pillow. ew)

Anyway, the two of you just happened to share the same lunch block, and it also just happens to be the only period block that he was alone

No teammates and no especially close that he could hang out with

That meant he could either study or eat

Had he chose to eat, only to be met with the fact that atsumu had drained both of their lunch accounts for his flavor of the week

Poor baby stood there for a while just processing what was the worst news of his life

When you, a true angel among the evil, said that you would graciously pay for his food so that he didn't outlook so sad anymore

If he wasn’t holding an armful of onigiri he would have fallen on his knees and begged to whatever god was out there to let him keep you

But he settled for thanking you and spending the entire period with you, he even offered to share (for the first time in his life)

You complimented him on his flavor choice and he decided to keep you

He made sure to share his recipes with you and you tried to do the same

And somehow that evolved into you guys going on dates, much to atsumu’s distaste, and you guys were totally hitting it off

Osamu was your official biggest fan, he loved everything you do

But that means he wants to stay your biggest fan, and he knows that you’re pretty well known for boys thinking not so innocent things about you

Again being brothers with atsumu gave him this little sadistic streak

He lets you wear all of the revealing outfits and the bikinis, all for everyone to see

Everyone to see what belongs to him

Like at suna’s party he let you wear a black mini-skirt and a white off the shoulder long sleeved flowy shirt.

You looked good, and all the guys staring at you proved that point tenfold. Three guys had come up to you and tried to get you to go upstairs with them. And it was almost immediately shut down when they noticed the act you were sitting on your boyfriend.

Speaking of, he almost always has you in his lap.

Aww, cute! Not, he like grinding you down on him, that's also why he likes having you wear skirts, easy access to your ass, also a nice way to ensure that he could get more than a few gropes in when he wants

No, it's definitely the way he made you wear thigh highs to school one day and the shortest skirt you owned (like a school skirt) and walked behind you the entire day.

And he just reached behind you and lifted your skirt for the whole hallway to see, but mostly for him

He waists no time when he wants to fuck, he’ll just walk up to and open your legs while making out with either you or your neck.

And yes he has done that in front of atsumu

Who was warned to stay out of their room for a while.

Not to mention all those times he convince you to go to school with no underwear on just for the fun of it

(I didn't tell you this but those off the shoulder mini dresses drive him wild. On graduation day he pulled into a closet and had his way with you. I mean he did say that if you wore that dress he was going to do it, buuuuuut y’know….. yolo)

Kyotani Kentaro

We all know he’s a fighter, which means he gets hurt a lot, which in turn makes him a frequent face in the nurse's office

And who happens to be the nurse's niece? You of course!

And right after school, when your aunt takes her break and leaves you to take care of the office alone

Right after school is also when Kyotani always comes in.

(it’s not like he knew that you would be there alone, and that meant that you had to deal with him and heal him up. And it also is not like he started the fight so he could come here and see you. No not that)

Who am I kidding it was like that.

It was totally like that.

Your hands were just so soft when they put the bandages on and you have to bend down to get the wrapping.

He had a crush, that's what iwaizumi said, and after googling what the symptoms of a crush were he was sure

So with the help of the third years, aka Oikawa just having Iwaizumi repeat what he wanted to say, they had a plan

And the next time he was in the office he asked if you wanted to see a movie with him, it was so cute and he looked so shy

It would have been perfect if after five seconds he tried to take it back, you still went on the date with him though

He was happy.

Angry boy likes hugs

And yes he does, no objections

So when he’s upset he’ll make these grabby hands at you and have you come over and stand with him

He shoves his chin on your shoulder and his hands squeezing your waist and you’ll rock back and forth until he calms down.

He’s also very aware of what you wear

Like how your skirt perfectly frames your legs. How the socks you wear make your legs look 10x longer, and make you look like you’re walking like a model.

Or the dark blue leggings you wore with his alternate jersey and you were cheering for him!

But nothing and I mean NOTHING gets him better than when you wear spandex shorts and one of his shirts. He goes feral every time.

This man is the CEO of picking you up and placing you on his lap, straddle style, and just going ham on you

Not to mention that sometimes when he’s really tired he’ll have you just sitting on his lap while he plays with your thighs

(he also likes playing with your waist and stomach, but he doesn't realize that he’s talking out loud so you can hear all of the “so soft”’s he lets out.

Kuguri

You were one of Mika's close friends so you were always just kind of around

It was a little get together that Daishou threw that really made you two close

It was a weird drinking game of sorts, and it had these teams, and you were out as a pair!

Somehow throughout the game, you guys got side-tracked and just ended up talking to each other the rest of the night

Eventually, you were convinced to go on a double date and the rest was history

He didn't even pay attention to what you wore that much until he heard a few rando kids in the locker room talking about it.

And that’s when he started thinking about just who he was dating

He first realized how round your ass was. Is it normal to look that good in leggings? No one else has ever looked that good to him. With that came his obsession with just touching your butt. He just grabs it or he’ll stop you from walking and palm it. Or he’ll rub circles into it.

(it's cute how intrigued he is by your butt)

Then came his obsession with your thighs. Mostly the way that they spread out when you sit. He didn't even understand why they were just so mesmerizing. They were so squishy too. He likes how they look in his hands-

Lastly was the waist thing. You aren't even sure what it is. He just likes putting his hands on your waist. Like a prom picture. Sometimes he’ll squeeze or run his hands along your sides. But he’s mostly stationary.

He also has this habit of just opening your legs and laying on your stomach.

He is just so into how soft you are.

1K notes · View notes

chitsangenthusiast · 4 years ago

Note

can i get an uhhhhh zukka fluff number 10?

me, walking in two days late with a venti caramel flat white: hey lol

(sorry for this lateness! i wasn’t expecting to be so exhausted after irl stuff this weekend BUT in my defense you did give me the hair braiding prompt so. really. ofc it was gonna get out of hand and need more time lmaooooo rip)

i hope you enjoy!!

the prompt: "stop moving and let me braid your hair"

"Ugh, I’m so going to get sick. This sucks.”

Zuko lightly knocks an elbow into his chest and starts separating the hair next to his temple into three small groups.

“I woke up sick and you woke up next to me. Hate to break it to you, love, but it’s going to happen regardless," he states, then elbows him again when Sokka moans in sorrow. “You're such a baby. Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

“Bossy,” Sokka grumbles, but he does bring his free hand to rest on his husband’s thigh while he works, and shoots him a small, grateful smile.

(the full ficlet under the cut!)

—

The sound of his husband’s footsteps has Sokka turning—and he’s met with the sight of Zuko already glaring at him before he can even properly raise a judgmental brow.

“I thought I told you to stay in bed?” he asks anyway, and rolls his eyes in amusement when Zuko petulantly crosses his arms with an annoyed sniff.

And then sniffs again, harder, in a useless attempt at clearing his clogged nose.

“I heard Izumi,” he says, and immediately has to cough a few times into his elbow to try to smooth down the dry, painful rasp in his throat.

Sokka just snorts, and doesn’t come closer.

Instead, he repositions their daughter so that her sleepy face can be better seen across the room. Covered in her favorite blanket and wrapped tight around her dad’s shoulders, she looks exhausted. Her eyes only barely open from being jostled around, acknowledging her baba’s presence before slipping shut again with a small whine, and Zuko’s pulse can’t help but trip over the sickly flush on her own cheeks or the tiny wet coughs she occasionally lets out. He quickly steps into the room toward her.

“Uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

Sokka’s derisive tone stops him from getting too far. It’s softer, not it’s usual brash volume in an effort to be gentle on Izumi’s ears (and Zuko’s headache), which means it’s also entirely ineffective.

Zuko stares hard at him as he determinedly makes his way over, and Sokka lets out a loud groan.

“Hon, you’re sick! Get back in bed!” he tries again, this time in mounting horror when Zuko starts to get close, and he quickly pivots so that her body is blocked from view by his own. “She doesn’t need any more of your germs!”

“It’s just a cold, Sokka. Don’t be ridiculous,” Zuko scoffs—then has to cough into his elbow again before he can continue. He ignores the exasperated look he gets. “It’s just colds for both of us. Let me see my daughter, she’s not going to get any sicker if I’m around her.”

“Alright, well, you just saw her,” Sokka shoots back. He still hasn’t moved Izumi back into Zuko's line of sight, in case he tries to reach out and take her from his arms. “Now go lay down until I can come take care of you next.”

The complaint is heavy but without heat, and it makes Zuko finally look up at him with a frown. This close, he can see the clear exhaustion on his husband’s face; Izumi had come to his bedside early in the morning, sniffling and tearfully frustrated from not feeling well, so Sokka has been the one up with her all morning, alternating between taking care of her and passing along messages to the attendants about Zuko’s cancellations for the day since, naturally, he also woke up sick. He’s only half-dressed for work, with scruff still on his jaw and his hair draped over the shoulder that Izumi isn’t resting on, and Zuko’s mouth twists in quiet guilt.

“Your hair’s not done,” he blurts out, knowing better but too tired to think of a better way to phrase it, and Sokka grumps at him.

“Yeah, well, between a fussy sick husband and a poor little one who refused to be put down all morning—” here, he drops a quick kiss on Izumi’s head and rubs a sympathetic hand up her back— “I haven’t really had the time to put it up for the day yet.”

Zuko cuts a glance to the clock. “Don’t you have a meeting in an hour?”

He winces at Sokka’s hard sigh.

“I’ll just—” Suddenly, Izumi lets out a big sneeze, quickly followed by an agitated cry, and Sokka shifts her around so that she’s better cocooned in his arms as he starts to sway a little to calm her. “I’ll get to it eventually. Or I’ll just show up like this and guilt everyone into doing what I want. Could be a good tactic actually, I think some of the committee members are parents who would empathize.”

“Let me do it for you.”

Sokka immediately steps away from him with a deep frown. “Nope, keep your sick hands away from me. I’m the only one left!”

“I won’t get you sick,” Zuko snaps, and doesn’t care about Sokka’s complaining as he drags him over to the couch to gently push him down into the cushions. Izumi fusses, wiggling against her dad’s hands so that she can pull away from his shoulder—then does a hard tilt over, startling both of her fathers as she dives into the pillow right next to Sokka’s leg.

“Izumi!”

As soon as her head hits the cool fabric, she lets out a happy, relieved noise and snuggles down into it. Her blanket comes up tighter around her shoulders, her feet shuffle around slightly in Sokka’s lap as she works to get comfortable, and she doesn’t even bother giving either of her dads the time of day before closing her eyes to try to find sleep.

Zuko promptly plops down next to his husband, shocked and a little woozy. “She’s not allowed to hang out with Toph anymore.”

“Does she think she’s an earthbender, just falling back like that without a care?” Sokka quietly seethes back in agreement. One of his hands comes down to wrap around her ankle as he lets out an explosive sigh, and he drops his head heavy against the back of the couch. “The two of you are going to be the death of me, I swear.”

Zuko pouts. “I haven’t even done anything yet today.”

“You’re out of bed when I told you not to be,” Sokka fires back, then quickly leans away when he notices the hands reaching out for his hair. “Ugh, I’m so going to get sick. This sucks.”

Zuko lightly knocks an elbow into his chest and starts separating the hair next to his temple into three small groups.

“Bossy,” Sokka grumbles, but he does bring his free hand to rest on his husband’s thigh while he works, and shoots him a small, grateful smile.

The sight makes Zuko press a tiny kiss into the braid. “You know, I missed getting my ‘good morning’ kiss from you.”

Sokka immediately snorts. “Izumi got all my kisses this morning, sorry babe. I’ll give you one when you can finally breathe through both nostrils again.”

“Too long,” Zuko complains back, as he finishes off one of the braids. With Izumi half draped over his lap, Sokka will likely only be able to wear the two on his right side today since Zuko can't really get to the other side of his head, so he moves to start pulling his hair up into a wolf tail.

Sokka hums, and looks over with an sad, wistful smile. “Yeah, I can agree with that.”

With his hair held up in a fist, Zuko can now see the bare stretch of his husband’s neck, along with the dark fuzz of hair on his scalp that will need to be shaved at some point. He spends more time than necessary trying to catch any flyaways, sliding his hand up and around his head just so he can relish this moment of touch, and smiles at the quiet sigh he receives.

“I love you,” Sokka murmurs, one hand still on their daughter’s foot and the other rubbing light circles on his husband’s thigh. Zuko chuckles as he makes quick work of securing the wolf tail.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, and then leans in. He takes a moment, just a quick one, to press his warm forehead against Sokka’s skin—his body temperature does nothing too soothe, but Zuko’s spirits are still wonderfully lifted anyway—before pulling back to leave a lingering kiss on that same spot.

“There, without any worries of catching my cold.”

Sokka’s responding exhale is fulfilled, contented, and definitely whiny. Zuko drops another kiss there, just so he can appreciate the whining part again, then presses a few more along his hairline because the elated inhale he gets is too good not to be rewarded.

And then he keeps going, covering his husband’s head in little kisses as he loosely wraps his arms around his shoulders—only to be surprised into a long, firm kiss when Sokka suddenly (carefully, to not disturb a snoozing Izumi) twists around to pull him close. Zuko laughs into it, utterly pleased at finally getting what he’s wanted all morning, and curls around his husband as they indulge themselves in kiss after sweet kiss.

“You’re definitely going to get sick now,” he eventually mumbles into Sokka’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, and neither does Sokka.

He does let out a long-suffering laugh though, and lands a quick kiss on the space right between Zuko’s eyes. “Oh, I'm well aware, hon. Izumi kept blowing raspberries in my face earlier. Like I said, the absolute death of me.”

Still, the fingers that have found their way into Zuko’s hair push on the back of his neck anyway, beckoning.

Zuko grins, and dutifully falls back in to collect more of his husband’s kisses.

#sokka calling zuko hon/honey is something that can be so sweet <3 #when i tell you i've been thinking abt this prompt 24/7 #i lit ended up w three possible drafts and landed on this one bc it ended up as the /shortest/ one #also pls forgive any potential mistakes i only edited this once bc i'm v tired rn lol #zukka #zuko #sokka #izumi #dadko #dadka #my writing #ask #littlespoonsokka

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kuroos-babie · 4 years ago

Text

Falling in Love with a Single Mom HCs

Akaashi x fem!Reader | Daichi x fem!Reader | Oikawa x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons/MiniFic ]

Request: 🥺👉👈 if you could do more single mom headcanon-fic-things LOL SORRY IDK WHAT TO CALL THEM and w/ akaashi, daichi, and oikawa? THANK U i love u and your writing you're so sweet —anonymous

a/n: okay so strangely enough, i thoroughly enjoyed writing oikawa's and it's probably my fav out of these three 😳 thank u for giving me the chance to write these and thank u for the kind words! i hope u like it 👉👈

❀ he’s been noticing you more and more — sat on the corner of the cafe he frequents during his breaks

❀ you would always order the same drink and sit on the same table by the window, he would occasionally glance at you, admiring the way sunlight hits your skin and the way the cafe music seemed to be playing solely for you

❀ but you always left too soon for his liking, 15 minutes before 2 in the afternoon to be exact

❀ he never knew where you went or what you did outside of the little cafe he sees you in everyday

❀ but soon enough, he was given a chance

“excuse me, is this seat taken?”

he saw your eyes look up at him in surprise and your lips curve into a small smile, “oh! no, go ahead”

“sorry for the trouble, i didn’t expect it to be this packed today”, he said in an attempt to engage in small talk

“it’s no problem at all” you assured him with another smile, “i often see you here, do you work nearby?”

❀ the two of you continued to chat until akaashi needed to remind you of the time

❀ but of course before you could even leave he'll ask you for your number saying

"i'd really like to know you more, if that's alright with you"

❀ of course it's alright with you sjckskdks

❀ the two of you would meet at the café everyday, except the weekends — same spot and same time, until it became part of your routines

❀ keiji took his time getting to know you and openly expresses his admiration for you

❀ of course you liked him back, he was sweet and considerate, he was everything you would like in a partner

❀ but you just needed to make sure of one thing before diving headfirst into a relationship

"akaashi-san—"

"keiji", he corrected, reaching out for your hand

the warmth of his hand helped eased your nerves of bringing up something that may potentially be a huge deal breaker

"keiji, we've been meeting for a while and i thought maybe it's time i tell you,"

❀ when you said you have a daughter, you never would've expected him to say "can i meet her?"

❀ you almost cried then and there— it had always been a big deal to the guys you met before, you being a single mother

❀ keiji sensed your relief and squeezed your hand in reassurance that it really was no big deal to him

❀ well it was, but it wasn't something that would easily shake up his resolve of being with you

❀ meeting your daughter for the first time was set in the same café, on a saturday half past noon

❀ he smiled seeing the quiet four year old on your lap, curious eyes and a small smile as he held out the little bunny plushie he got for her as a gift

❀ weekend café dates became frequent with the three of you and soon became home dates— alternating between your and keiji's apartments

❀ your daughter loved when he read to her, having her sat on his lap with a picture book in his hands

❀ more often than not, you would catch him fast asleep on the couch— picture book on the floor and your child snuggled up against his chest

❀ during these moments, especially, you couldn't help but imagine spending every day with them both without having to part ways by the end of it

❀ and of course, when he wakes up, keiji can't help but think the same thing when he wakes up to you smiling softly at him and the little girl who kept a part of his heart inside her tiny little hands

❀ your son met him first

❀ he just got out of the police academy and was assigned near the elementary school gates

❀ kids would often come up to him with fascination in their eyes

❀ and it wasn't a different case with your seven year old son

"hey mister are you a policeman?"

"sure i am, why do you ask?" he answers with the softest smile, crouching down to the child's level

"that's so cool! mom said my dad was a policeman, maybe you're my dad?"

he watched the boy's eyes widen in realization and he couldn't help but chuckle

"sorry, bud, but i don't think i have a child yet neither do i have a wife"

"well do you want one?"

❀ that effectively painted his cheeks in red, standing straight up and ruffling the boy's hair, urging him to go straight home

❀ everyday your son would come up to him to ask him the same questions and saying the same things

"would you want to be my dad?"

"i think it'll be sooo cool to have you as my dad"

"let me ask my mom if you can be my dad"

❀ jesus help this man pls

❀ he found it all to be endearing and soon enough he looked forward to chatting with your son for a few minutes every afternoon on his way home from school

❀ your child would always brag about how nice you are, how pretty, and just how amazing of a mom you are

❀ an amazing lil wingman if u ask me

❀ it wasn't until one of his day offs that he met this wonderful mom that he always heard of— and boy was he stunned

❀ he was out grocery shopping, skimming the aisles when he heard the familiar voice of your son

"mama, it's the policeman i was talking to you about!"

before you even had the chance to react, your child bolted through the spice aisle and cling to this man's leg

you quickly caught up to him and was about to apologize to the stranger when you saw him get to your child's level and pat at his head

"oh hey, didn't know i'd catch you here"

"i'm with mama! now you can see just how pretty she is!"

❀ the comment made both your faces heat up but even moreso when daichi looked up at you, absentmindedly muttering a "she is"

❀ your son had the proudest grin on his face >:)

❀ the three of you went out for lunch then which you insisted to be for all the trouble your son has caused him— who so conveniently disappeared to the playhouse to leave you two to yourselves

❀ it didn't take a lot for daichi to be absolutely smitten by you— admiring how you could handle a child and a job all by yourself and still managing to have that pretty smile on your face

❀ he had to thank your son his little accomplice the next time they have their afternoon chat

❀ and maybe start planning on "Operation Get Mom and Daichi-san Together"

❀ started as students sharing a class and later on became inseparable best friends

❀ you two met in college

❀ tōru would rave on and on about how much better you were than "iwa-chan" whom he never lets you see during their facetimes bec you "might fall for him and choose iwa-chan over me"

❀ he was there to witness you going out with an orgmate, there to listen about the first time you got laid, and of course he was there to comfort you when your ex left the moment you told him you were pregnant during your third year in college

"do you want to keep it?"

tōru held you close as you cried, his soft voice mingling with your sobs

"i d-don't know"

you buried your face on his chest, prompting him to hold you tighter and rub comforting circles on your back

"whatever you choose to do, i'll be here", he promised "i won't leave you"

❀ the moment you decided to keep your baby was the moment it was decided that oikawa would co-parent with you

❀ during your pregnancy, he came to your apartment everyday and stayed over on weekends

❀ he kept his promise and never left your side even after you gave birth

❀ he practically moved in with you, staying up late at night to care for your child so you could get some rest, he changed schedules and skipped classes to let you continue going to yours

❀ it was alright, he said, afterall a pro volleyball team was already eyeing him— he was set even before graduation

❀ the both of you fell into a steady rhythm of domesticity

❀ eating breakfast together, taking turns changing your daughter's diapers, cuddling in the same bed and having sleepy conversations about the future and how you're both thankful of the other

❀ it was never established what you two were— you just knew that you were each other's constant and that you promised to stay with the other until god knows when

"what're you planning to do then?"

"i don't knoooow~ iwa-chan help me out here~"

"well, for starters, you should go and tell her— y'know, about argentina"

there was a moment of silence between the line, tōru mulling over his options

"i don't want to leave her" was his quiet reply

"i know you don't, but this opportunity may never come by again, don't let it slip"

❀ it was a few weeks before your graduation, your daughter now more than a year old, when he received the call inviting him to play for argentina

❀ on one hand he knew it was the chance of a lifetime, but when he looks at you in his arms with your daughter on your chest, he couldn't even think about leaving you

❀ it was less about the promise he made and more about how he couldn't imagine his everyday without the two of you

"y/n-chan~"

you only hummed in response but looked up to meet his eyes

"if i were to get invited to go to the other side of the world to play volleyball, would you come with me?"

he held your gaze with hesitation

"i'll go anywhere with you, tōru, i thought you knew that by now"

a small smile of relief graced his face as he exhaled, closing his eyes and rubbing his face against yours, "thank you"

the next few moments were spent in comfortable silence before he broke it with a chuckle, "is it too late now to ask you to be my girlfriend?"

"tōru, we're basically a married couple for the past two years"

...

"so will you marry me for real?"

#bro #i never knew i'd love oikawa like this #i am a Changed Woman #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hq akaashi #akaashi hcs #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #hq daichi #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #daichi headcanon #sawamura daichi x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa tōru #oikawa x reader

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quentinbecks · 3 years ago

Note

full alphabet clear for all unasked sarah x joseph thank YOU xx

Oh, God. Thank you, Stella! I’m pretty sure you might be the only one interested in this. You and @johnnycranes of course.

A, I, Q answered here

B - who gets tied up and how?

They both alternate between being tied up, but the main one getting tied down during sex is Joseph. Sarah knows a few rope tricks and he enjoys having her experiment on him.

C - how do they cuddle?

Joseph likes to be the one to hold her. He’s almost always the big spoon since it makes him feel like a protector.

D - how do they dirty talk?

They’re pretty vanilla in this regard. They mainly just tell each other how they make them feel and what they want them to do to themself or the other.

E - riskiest place they’ve had sex?

The back room of his church right before a sermon.

F - what do they find sexy?

Sarah enjoys praise kink, exhibitionism, and a lot of teasing. Joseph enjoys edging (giving and receiving), bondage, and worshiping his girl’s body.

G - weirdest position they’ve tried?

Sex in a more secluded part of the river. Without any place to hold on to and a little bit of bliss in the water, it made the whole experience more awkward than it really needed to be.

H - what do they do with their hands?

What doesn’t Joseph do with his hands? He’s very tactile and likes to touch every inch of her. His hands are in her hair or running up her thighs. In more tender moments he likes to interlace their fingers. Sarah likes to run her hands up his back, dragging her nails to be break skin. She sometimes finds herself grabbing his ass (she finds it to be perky) when he’s on top.

J - what’s their go to sexy song?

They don’t have one since Joseph rejects modern music and thankfully they don’t enjoy fucking to project songs.

K - what’s their secret kink?

They both enjoy edging way more than they would like to admit to. There’s also the exhibitionism kink that they role play instead of having sex in the church.

L - what underwear do they like?

Joseph is almost always commando. You cannot change my mind on this. Sarah tends to wear mainly lacy black numbers, but sometimes Joseph buys her items in more pastel colors like mint green or baby blue because he thinks she looks angelic in them.

M - what do they sound like? what sounds do they like?

They’re both fairly quiet in bed. Sarah tends to whimper and whine, but she’s more tactile than vocal in bed. Joseph loves hearing her cry out or beg for him, though. Though, he’s a bit more quietly intense, but Sarah can tell from his little noises that he’s enjoying himself and it’s a huge turn on for her.

N - what time of day do they prefer to have sex?

She’s up for it almost anytime, but Joseph is a big fan of early morning sex.

O - giving or receiving? Why?

Joseph loves going down on Sarah. There are times where he could get off just from watching/tasting her. On the other hand, Sarah isn’t the biggest fan of giving oral sex, but for Joseph she’s willing to do it, especially when he’s so giving to her.

P - favorite position and why?

Their favorite is when Sarah is on top. Joseph likes to watch her face the entire time. Though, their other favorite is doggy style when they’re up for something less soft.

R - what’s their role playing fantasy?

They have a whole man in cloth fantasy that Joseph sometimes indulges her by playing along with it. He’s really into it too, though

S - how do they turn on their partner?

Sarah will kiss all over his neck, leaving little bites here and there while whispering in his ear all the things she wants him to do to her. Joseph knows she gets turned on when he’s being a bit more dominant. Once he gets a little bossy, lowering his voice and everything, he knows he has her.

T - how do they have rough sex?

Like stated above, mainly doggy style. In general, these two are more vanilla, but they’re into scratching, biting, hair pulling, and spanking. There’s also a bit of a degradation kink thrown in there as well.

U - who’s in control and how?

It’s mainly Sarah since she’s the one who’s usually topping, but every now and then Joseph decides to take control and really show off how much of a dom he can be.

V - what do they like to watch?

They’re both into mutual masturbation and watching the other get off.

W - how do they do it in the shower?

Because there’s a bit of a height difference between these two (short queen), they rarely have shower sex. They do go down on each other in the shower, though.

X - what kind of porn do they like?

They don’t watch porn.

Y - how do they use food during sex?

They don’t really use food in a sexual way, but sometimes they bring ice into the bedroom for some teasing.

Z - how do they undress?

Sarah likes to do a little striptease for Joseph. It’s slow and it’s sensual and really sets the mood. She also likes to get on her knees and undress him from the waist down. It makes her feel like she’s worshipping him and it’s lowkey a turn on for her.

#maybe Joseph is a little freak?#oc: sarah young #joseph seed #sarah x joseph #nsft asks

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

#tony stark angst #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bun writes: drabbles #bun writes #this is me tearing your heart out and having it for dinner 💚#it's okay i obsess over this scenario and send myself spiraling at least twice a month

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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The Dismemberment Song | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words: 3,791

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club.

PART ONE | PART TWO |

WARNINGS: graphic blood/gore/violence, reader may or may not torture and murder a guy, alcohol, all that good Gotham stuff, reader is kinda fucked up

Seriously, don’t read this if you don’t like blood

Based on The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid!

This is written as a kinda vague fem!reader, but if there’s interest I can always write alternate versions for different genders, more specific body/personality types, or whatever else might tickle your fancy! Just hit up my ask box!

Requests are open!! Pls, I really wanna write more Zsasz or Zsaszmask x reader, gimme ideas!

The Black Mask was a club that boasted only the best of the best. Top shelf booze, luxurious furnishings, and entertainers that Gotham’s other club owners wished they could get their hands on all came together to form the East End’s trendiest spot. You were lucky enough to be one of those very entertainers, and you had been performing onstage at Roman’s club ever since one of his goons saw you dancing at another spot across town. Roman Sionis had bought you easily, promising a good nightly wage and all the free drinks you could stomach, and a few years later, you were still enjoying the nice gig at the Black Mask.

Most nights were the same; you showed up around seven, hung around in the dressing room with the others while you all got ready, and enjoyed a drink or two before your first number. You were always in the chorus, not that you really minded--Roman paid you more than enough to keep you happy, even though you knew the stars got more. Girls who did solo numbers, especially if they could sing, those were Mr. Sionis’s favorites. You never really expected to achieve that kind of status, not when people like Dinah Lance were around and holding his attention, so when Roman pulled you aside one night to tell you that he wanted to give you the chance to do your own routine, you nearly dropped your drink.

“Full creative control,” he said, a hand resting at the small of your back as you gaped at him.

“I--what?” you managed to choke out. “I-I mean, thank you, Mr. Sionis, really--”

“Please,” he chuckled. “Call me Roman.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you smiled, swallowing down your fear. “I won’t disappoint you, I swear.”

“I know you won’t, doll.” he motioned for someone to bring him a drink. “Full creative control, like I said. I want to see what’s swirling around in that pretty mind of yours. Put some heart into it for me, k doll?”

You nodded. “You got it, boss.”

He grinned, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss against your temple like he did with all the girls he liked. “Looking forward to it, beautiful.”

He let you go, turning to leave, and Zsasz slunk after him, but not before casting you an almost annoyed look.

“Don’t disappoint,” he teased, whistling low before he followed his boss.

You gulped. You were sure he wouldn’t mind peeling your face off, but you rather preferred staying alive.

“I won’t!” you called after him bravely.

He glanced at you over his shoulder, his eyes practically boring into you as if were sizing you up. He thought you were just some prissy little girl, didn’t he? Just like Roman, just like everybody else. But you would show them. They wanted to see what kind of shit really ate at your brain? Oh, you’d give them a nice little glimpse.

And so, only a couple shorts weeks later, here you were, getting ready in the dressing room like usual, only you were far more nervous than you had been for any other shift. You had busted your ass getting everything ready, even taking a few nights off to work twice as hard on what you hoped would be a good debut. You had given the band their sheet music, you had learned your lyrics inside and out (because you were absolutely determined to go that extra mile for Roman Sionis and show him that not only could you prance around onstage, but you could sing, too), and you had spent hours upon hours hand-decorating an old corset and lingerie set you had sitting around. Roman wanted this to come from the heart, he wanted a passion project, and you were gonna give it to him.

You just had to pray that he was in the right mood to enjoy it.

“Think you’re good to go, my love,” the house mom said as she finished with your hair.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. So far, so good...your hair was in big barrel curls, still warm to the touch as your house mom gave it a couple more passes with the hairspray for good measure.

“You sure I don’t need--”

“You’re gonna knock ‘em dead,” she interrupted, retreating to her usual chair.

You kept staring at your reflection. “Do you think it’s too much? I mean...”

She laughed loudly. “Hon, this is Gotham. There’s no such thing as too much.”

Glancing down at your outfit, you weren’t so sure. “But...”

“But nothing. Now go on, go show Roman why he stays in business.”

You stood on shaky legs, nodding to her as you made your way towards the door. “R-right.”

“Break a leg,” she called after you.

All you could do was nod. You knew what you were doing. You had practiced for hours every day to get ready for this. With a deep breath, you made your way down the hall leading to stage, shaking your hands out as you stood in the wings. You could do this. You were ready.

As soon as your stage name was announced, you stepped out, ruby encrusted heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. The lights were harsh, the crowd quiet as you came out to face them. The stage was set for you, a few props already waiting for you as you stood there, ready for the music to start.

Then, the band began playing, and you sprang into action.

“Hold still, my sweet. I’m tryin to measure the space between your molar and your jaw...” You sang, lunging forward to grab the medical-grade calipers sitting in a metal bucket for you. You trailed them down over your victim’s jaw, smiling as you did so. “...This caliper, no cause for fear. No it...it doesn’t hurt, it only helps me measure how much skin you have...”

Across the club, Zsasz looked up. He was standing near Roman, his boss sitting in a booth while he chatted with some business associates. He was far more interested in you than their conversation, his dark eyes tracking you as you moved across the stage. He was absolutely enthralled by your outfit, your tightly-laced corset covered in blood red rhinestones that glimmered under the stage lights, your matching bra and thong shining just as brightly. You looked like you were covered in blood, the gems catching his eye in a way he hadn’t expected.

“--and the topmost layer of fat, but I won’t make an incision till you’re nice and numb...” There was an operating table on the stage, where one of Roman’s lowest-ranking goons was tied down. If Zsasz remembered correctly, this guy had fucked up pretty monumentally recently, so seeing him strapped down and struggling brought a grin to his face.

You ran over to the man, the crowd laughing as you leaned across him. “...Oh, and laughing gas can be so much fun, please don’t doubt my decision...”

The scene you had set was both comedic and sexual. In all honesty, Zsasz hadn’t expected you to do anything like this; you were a chorus girl, someone he had thought would go for something overdone and classic. Maybe some old school stupid, annoying, Singin In The Rain type shit, yet there you were, dressed in an outfit that was obviously meant to emulate dripping blood while you flitted around a man on a gurney.

Zsasz couldn’t look away.

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee!” you squealed, teasingly pressing your sawblade to the goon’s torso. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

You grabbed the goon as he struggled against his restraints, holding him down. Zsasz was sure the man was in on your little number, and he thought it was cute; you were pretending to be some sort of killer, maybe trying to appeal to Roman’s face peely urges. Maybe you were trying to make the boss happy by scaring his lackey like this.

“So don’t you squirm, don't you fret, I'm not gonna hurt you...yet.” You grinned, leaning down before you shoved the man’s face to the side, letting him go as you ran back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of blood lettin’, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading...”

You pranced back to the gurney, moving with that little extra theatrical oomph that made everyone think you were just playing. You smiled as they clapped and laughed loudly. They would figure it out soon enough.

“Cutting you up will be so refreshing for me...” you cooed, discarding the calipers in favor of a scalpel. You traced it down the goon’s bare chest, a little line of blood following the blade as it pierced his flesh.

He let out a scream, just as you hoped he would, and you gave his little table a shove, sending it wheeling a short distance away.

“Now don’t you cry,” You sang, “And don’t call Miriam, she’s my alibi...oh let me check your toes out!” You picked up a set of pliers, taking hold of his big toe. “Aren’t your toenails cute?” you grabbed one and pulled, the goon screaming as you removed the nail, leaving a bloody pulp behind. “...and red is such a lovely color on you!” you leaned down in his face, grabbing the opposite foot’s big toenail and yanking. “...But you won’t be needing those!”

Roman began clapping, giving a loud “Whoo!” as he watched you. He had no idea that when you had asked him for the name of his least favorite henchman, this would be the reason. Now, watching the man suffer onstage in front of everyone while you were dancing around him in six inch heels and a scandalously skimpy outfit, Sionis was more than entertained. He was impressed, absolutely astounding by the cruelty his little burlesque dancer held inside of her. He couldn’t have hoped for more.

“When you’ve got no knees!” you sang, dropping your weapons in favorite of a crowbar. “...Or shins, or pinky fingers, or arteries....”

You brought your weapon down on each of the man’s legs, somehow still managing to poise yourself perfectly as you did so. You gave him a few good whacks, then dropped the bar, leaning down to pick a knife up out of the bucket and run it over his hands teasingly.

“...so hold still while I remove them!” you trilled.

The man tried to sit up, struggling against his restraints, but you shoved him back down with a sweet smile.

“...Oh, and don’t fight back,” you sang, hopping up to sit next to him. “I think you’ll find you’re missing the point, with that.”

Meanwhile, Victor Zsasz was grinning, showing off his gold teeth while he watched you. He kept a close eye on your hips as they swayed, his trained eyes following your ass as it moved across the stage. Were you really carving a man up right then and there? He wanted it to be true. He wanted to smell the overwhelming tang of blood as you plunged a knife into your victim. But he was too far away, and so he had to settle for watching instead.

Your victim tried to scream, and you shoved his head to the side playfully.

“That’s enough outta you!” you sang, holding his jaw tightly.

As you repeated your chorus, your knife returned to the man’s flesh and he grunted in pain, pleading to an audience that didn’t care about him. The Black Mask was a fucked up place for fucked up people, no matter how trendy it was, and nobody in the audience was going to protest when someone was torn apart onstage. Besides, Roman Sionis was far too powerful for the GCPD to go after, and as you heard him laughing loudly in the audience, you had a pretty good feeling that he wasn’t going to send anyone after you for carving somebody up in a way that only you could.

You kept going, peeling your underbust corset off with the same grace and dexterity that Zsasz peeled faces with. As you stood in only your bra, thong, garters and stockings, you felt exhilarated, powerful, as if you had been born to cur people up in front of an audience.

It’s not like this was your first time chopping a body up, anyways; there was a reason you had to move to Gotham and get a new gig, after all.

Zsasz watched you. In fact, his eyes were glued to you, even when Roman walked away to chat with a few mob bosses in a nearby booth. Were you seriously killing this man right in front of everyone? Victor didn’t necessarily care for all the theatrics, but he could appreciate how seriously you took you took your craft, and he had to admit, he was surprised that this was what you had come up with when Roman told you to give him something good.

“‘Cause I’m all out of hurt, you’ve used up all I’ve got,” you taunted, sneering down at your victim as you brought your saw down on his leg. “So I’m chopping you up and still coming up squat! If I want it to bleed, I’ll just roll up my sleeve and saw and saw and saw...”

The blade cut back and forth, and Zsasz’s eyes followed it. Blood was spurting up, drenching your arms as if you were wearing red opera gloves.

“And saw, and saw, and saw, and saw....”

“Zsasz, can you believe this?” Roman asked, leaning towards him.

“No, boss,” Zsasz said with a little grin, shaking his head.

“She’s good. We may have to give her a new job...”

You paused, giving your victim a break as you tossed the saw back into the bucket, drops of blood spattering across the stage as you pulled out a large butcher knife. Before it could touch Roman’s henchman, you used it to flick open the clasp on your bra, tossing the thin little piece of lingerie out into the crowd. You didn’t really care where it went; you were too busy enjoying yourself.

“This’ll be ooh, this’ll be ahh, this’ll be absolutely whee,” you purred, trailing the blade down the side of the man’s face. “This’ll be nice, this’ll be neat and bring you closer to me...”

“So don’t you squirm, don’t you fret, I’m not gonna hurt you, oh no, no, no, not...yet.” you plunged your blade into his chest, between two of his ribs, not close enough to knick his heart but definitely deep enough to cause him immense pain despite all the adrenaline that was sure to be running through his system now.

You pulled the knife back out, blood dripping off the metal blade as you held it tightly and pranced back across the stage. “I just feel the need to be gettin’ a little of you, a lot of bloodletting, I know the sensation you’re probably dreading but there’s one thing you’re forgetting...”

Turning back to him, you brought the blade to his throat, and in the crowd, Zsasz’s eyes lit up. He was delighted. He was enthralled. His pants were getting a little tight, but whatever. The rest of the audience was gazing up at you with wonder, disgust, amusement...but Zsasz was absolutely admiring the way you so confidently played with your victim. The theatrics were starting to grow on him, he decided, and he wanted nothing more than to go right up there and lick all that blood off your face.

“There’s nothing like the thrill of a shredding,” you sang, almost snarling, “but this is no orthodox beheading...”

You destroyed the man on the gurney, carving through him, drenching yourself in blood in an almost comical way.

“Cutting you up,” you sang as you made an absolute mess. “Cutting you up...”

“Cutting you up is gonna be....” you finally stepped back, catching your breath as the song slowed. “...so refreshing for me.”

As your routine finished, you took a little bow, still holding the knife as you crossed your ankles and bent at the waist in a delightfully fancy gesture. The man on the gurney was very much dead, blood dripping down onto the stage, and the audience was still eating up every second of it. You could hear Roman cheering, and as you spotted him standing there amidst the crowd with Zsasz at his side, you blew them both a little kiss.

“How about that?” you heard Roman’s voice boom above the clapping as you strode offstage. “I would call for an encore, but unfortunately, I think we’d need a new victim....”

Your head was still abuzz with the rush of killing, and you walked back to the dressing room in a daze. You were vaguely aware of Dinah Lance wrinkling her nose as you passed her, but you didn’t pay her any mind. Absolutely nothing could kill your good mood now.

“Well?” the house mom asked as you made your way to your mirror. “Sounds like it went well, judging by those cheers...”

You smiled and hummed to yourself, nodding as you reached for something to clean your face with. You were going to need an entire shower to get all this blood off yourself.

“Told you.” the house mom snorted a laugh.

“He loved it,” you grinned.

She shook her head in amusement. “You are one fucked up girl, I’ll tell you that much.”

“That’s showbiz, baby,” you joked, raising a towel to start working at wiping your face.

“Oh, pussycat?” a singsong voice made you freeze.

You could see Zsasz in the mirror.

He was leaning in the doorway, smirking as he watched you. “Boss wants to talk.”

You paled. Had you fucked up after all? Did Roman get his shits and giggles and now planned on having Zsasz peel your face off? Sionis was infamous for his fickle moods. You’d watched him have plenty of people dragged off into back rooms just for speaking at the wrong time, and you had just done way worse than interrupt him.

You gawked at Zsasz, still staring at his reflection. What were you supposed to do? Run? He was blocking the only door, and there was no way you’d be able to get past him. You had no choice but to follow him to Roman.

“O-Okay,” you managed to stammer out, finally turning towards him. “Lead the way.”

“Might want this.” he held up the bra you had tossed, twirling the strap around his finger while he gave you a smile that showed off his gold teeth.

“Give me that!” you snapped, rushing towards him.

“Ah.” he held it above his head, leering down at you. “Think I like this view more...”

“Zsasz!” you protested, scrambling against his chest and practically trying to claw your way up him to get your lingerie.

He froze. He finally smelled the metallic tang of all that blood covering you, and coupled with the feeling of your tits against his chest...oh, he was so fucked.

When he dropped the bra, you grabbed it from him, tossing it back to your mirror and moving to pick up a silky red robe off a nearby hook. You shrugged it on, tying it shut while Zsasz cleared his throat and offered you his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you sneered, taking it anyways.

“When I want to be.” his voice was low and rough, as if his vocal chords were scraping against each other with every syllable.

You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded, as he led you out into the club once more. The band was playing as a few people cleaned up the carnage you had left behind, the bar’s patrons all chatting and drinking again. It was as if nothing had even happened and they hadn’t just watched a man be torn apart onstage a few minutes prior.

Zsasz took you to Roman, the crowd parting before the two of you easily. Sionis was sitting in his favorite booth, sipping his drink and laughing, still seeming to be in a very good mood.

“Ah, there she is!” He said when he saw you, standing up and spreading his arms.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” You asked nervously as Zsasz let you go.

“Yes, yes, I had Mr. Zsasz grab you so that I could congratulate you on a thrilling performance.”

You stared at him. “You liked it?”

“Liked it? I loved it, darling! A bit messy for my tastes, but a lovely show, truly, though I suspect our dear Mr. Zsasz here wishes he could have been the one to take care of your victim. Isn’t that right, Zsasz?”

You glanced up at Zsasz. He grunted, not necessarily in agreement. He didn’t hate watching your performance by any means, and as much as he enjoyed helping little birds fly away from the world, he rather enjoyed watching you do it, too.

“I’m glad, Mr. Sionis,” you said.

“I told you, call me Roman.” he took a sip of his drink. “You know, normally, I don’t enjoy it when someone kills the people that belong to me, but I must admit, you certainly have a way with a knife.”

“I would have asked your permission, but I didn’t want to ruin the surprise.” you gulped.

“And what a lovely surprise it was!” Roman laughed loudly. “You’re very talented...in fact, how’d you like a promotion? Yes? Perfect, perfect! No, no, don’t shake my hand, you’re...well, you’re covered in blood. Quite frankly, it’s disgusting.” He snapped his fingers. “Mr. Zsasz, take her up to the penthouse so she can clean up, I don’t want all this blood getting on the new carpeting in here.”

“Oh, Mr. Sio--Roman,” you cleared your throat, “I can use the shower in the dressing room, really, it’s no trouble--”

“Nonsense, nonsense.” he waved you away. “You’re part of the team now, aren’t you? Besides, a job well done deserves some sort of reward. Zsasz will show you upstairs. Don’t worry, he’s completely harmless.”

As Zsasz put a hand on your lower back, you had your doubts. Harmless wasn’t really a word you would choose to describe Roman’s right hand man.

“Come on, princess.” Zsasz purred, guiding you through the crowd before you had much of a chance to protest.

He took you to the elevator in the corner, the bouncer standing guard in front of it stepping aside with a nod. The man hit the up button, and soon, you were pressed up against Zsasz in the small space, on your way up to Roman’s spacious penthouse.

#victor zsasz x reader #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #bop zsasz #birds of prey zsasz #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey #dceu #dceu imagine #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc x reader #gotham #chris messina imagine

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jeonqqin · 4 years ago

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man up. [m] | pt. 6

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, heated kissing, minor groping, a wee bit of angst

A/N: sorry this one was late... like all the others. but hey you can’t blame me for trying lmao

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

—UNEDITED

Your head began to spin as your eyes dropped to the text sent to you, the number attached to a name that you least expected. You would never admit to how fast your heart pulsed in your chest as you skimmed the words over and over. Had Jisung said anything to her about what happened?

Was she upset with you for sending her precious boyfriend into a panic attack?

Maybe you were walking straight into a bear trap but you couldn’t bring yourself to decline or ignore her message. The guilt of hurting Jisung was too fresh, so you had a hard time doing anything against him—and in a way, ignoring Hyunae’s messages was just that. You just hoped it wasn’t an elaborate set up where she jumped you and scratched your throat out with her excessively polished fingernails. But even if she did, it was pretty fair to say that you deserved it.

So after your first class, you were able to hop on the bus for a quick trip to Haven, the thought of your next class lodged in the back of your mind. After the incident in Minho’s apartment, you hadn’t stepped a foot back inside. Granted it had only been twelve hours at the most, but it felt like days when it seemed like everyone was mad at you. Word of what happened traveled fast, and despite no one in your group of friends asking you about it specifically, you knew that they knew. You suspected that Changbin was the culprit, but you really couldn’t blame him. He didn’t exactly know the extent of the situation.

But it was hard when even Felix seemed hesitant to talk to you.

Chan was still there to text you every hour, even after you explained most of the situation to him. But he remained understanding and sweet.

As he was all the time.

When you walked into the diner, a burst of warmth enveloped you and your nose turned up at the scent of comfort food and coffee. It was nice, and eased some of the tension in your muscles.

Hyunae sat along the inside booths where most of the diners traffic was, close enough to the door that you could run if you needed to. She had her eyes cast down on her phone and your arrival hadn’t been noticed—you could’ve turned around and left then and there, ending all of your messy doubts and fears for the day. But you couldn’t. Your feet continued forward without your consent, dragging you those last final inches to her table.

With the new presence, she looked up.

Hyunae’s eyes widened for a second, darting over your form as if to double check that you were really there.

“I kind of didn’t think you were going to come.” She exhaled a small laugh, motioning towards the other side of the table where a still hot cup of coffee sat.

You took the cup in your cold hands, “Thanks…”

You didn’t know what to say—the ball was in her park and she was in control of where things headed.

She sighed, leaning back against the booth, her pretty skin flushed with the nip of the air. “I’ll just cut to the chase… I wanted to apologize for what I did—for everything that I did. I’ve been a bitch for a while, and I only realized it now.”

With her avoiding eye contact, you could openly gape at her confession, because—what?

The Hyunae was apologizing to you?

“I don’t—I don’t really understand why you’re suddenly apologizing.” You said, voice hoarse.

Hyunae tugged her sweater closer to her form, arms curling around her waist as someone else walked through the door, sending a blast of cold air through the diner.

“You know, for being a complete bitch to you while Ji and I were dating. It was all a jealousy thing to be completely honest. I didn’t actually—”

You blinked, waving your hand out to stop her rambling. You weren’t sure that you could process the first half of her words, let alone the endless ramble that she was capable of spewing.

“Are…” you swallowed. “Are you guys not together?”

She frowned, brows furrowed.

“Jisung broke up with me, Y/n. Did he not tell you?”

The scratch of a broken record echoed through your head as you nearly dropped the ceramic cup of coffee all over yourself.

“What?”

She nodded slowly, “I thought you would be the first person he told, considering…”

“Considering what?”

Her briefness and dodging was only making you frustrated, your hand waving in front of her face to finally gain her eyes. You had no idea that Jisung broke up with her, and you had no idea why. Some part of you hoped that the reason had something to do with you, but you just pushed that load of feelings away. It wasn’t fair to think of such things while the girl who had recently been broken up with sat directly in front of you.

You really were a god awful person.

She laughed a little, her eyes taking in your complete disbelief.

“Well I’ll be damned. You two really are perfect for each other, huh?”

Before you could ask exactly what that was supposed to mean, you watched as her cheeks flushed a bright red—this time not at the fault of the air. Again she laughed, all humor aside, and her hands lifted to her face as tears leaked from her eyes.

“God,” she sniffed, frantically moving to wipe her face with her sleeve. “You both really suck.”

You leaned forward awkwardly, passing her a napkin from the holder with a small tilt of your head. “I’ve come to realize that recently.”

She gave you a look that read, “don’t agree with me” and it managed to pull a laugh from your own throat. Hyunae might’ve been a little bit of a bitch, but it wasn’t without reason. She was insecure and jealous and those two things are away at someone like a virus. It was almost impossible to not feel such things at your age.

You always forgot that you were barely out of high school, the years of petty emotions and fake relationships hadn’t quite yet been erased from your minds. You were all in the same boat.

Just trying to learn along the way.

“You know what’s funny…” Hyunae smiled, her eyes wet. “I always kind of routed for you two. I didn’t really know it, but it was always in the back of my head.”

You felt your lip wobble, but you bit it down, clenching your jaw. There was no way in hell that you were going to cry. You weren’t going to do that—you had no reason to. Hyunae was the one who just lost her boyfriend, and she was the only one who was supposed to be sad.

“Every time you and him were together it just looked so right. I don’t know…” She swiped her hair over her shoulder with a sigh. “I honestly couldn’t believe it when he asked me to be his girlfriend, I thought you two had been a thing for a while—” right, you nearly forgot about the time when Hyunae was simply a friend. “—but then he came bounding up with a goofy smile on his face and that was it. It was over.”

Hyunae and Jisung had some math class together back in high school, he didn’t tell you much about her, but you knew enough to think she was a decent person. Back in those days, Hyunae was much different; sporting a thick pair of glasses and dark hair. But still just as gorgeous, as everyone with two eyes could see.

She followed Jisung around like a lost puppy, and even had to be shooed away by Minho a few times. You were just glad that she listened, since Minho’s temper had been much worse then. You didn’t remember the details but you did remember the day that Jisung jumped back to your house with a big smile and flushed cheeks. It was a time when you were still an angsty teenager and listened to terrible love songs when you were in emotional distress. So that news was a real punch in the face.

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what else to say, she wasn’t exactly your friend, so you didn’t know how to take in and process the information that she just threw at you.

Hyunae shook her head.

“Don’t be sorry. I had a feeling before that it was going to happen sooner or later. Who knew it was going to be so much later?”

You sent her a small smile. She wasn’t half bad when she wasn’t completely ignoring your existence and sending murderous glances your way.

The waiter rounded up to your table—unfortunately, not Jeongin—and proceeded to ask you what you wanted to order. After Hyunae promised to pay for your meal as well, the two of you talked for what seemed to be hours. You didn’t talk about anything at all—going on about classes and professors that you couldn’t stand. Your mind was clear for the first time in weeks and it was beyond refreshing to talk to her about things that only another girl would understand. Being around boys every day of your life had taken a toll on you and you hadn’t realized it until you were laughing as Hyunae ranted about how obviously sexist your communications professor was.

You could be yourself around the boys, of course. But with her, you could be someone you hadn’t been in a long time.

With a fry between her fingers, she hummed, leaning her chin on her hand.

It was only a matter of time before she reverted to what she came to talk to you about, and you tried your hardest to redirect the conversation each time it looked like it was going to be lead down that spiral of absolute hell—

“I think you guys would be cute together.”

You deadpanned, flicking your empty straw wrapper in her direction.

“Are we really talking about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named right now?” You quirked a brow, not at all happy with the way she snickered at your question.

“If it makes you feel better, Y/n… I think I’ve had feelings for Hyunjin for a long time as well.”

“Oh yeah, my guilt is cured.”

She nearly snorted her water, sputtering a little bit around her mouthful. You took a bit of pride in that.

“I actually missed your sarcasm, believe it or not.”

Sighing, you threw all of your remaining trash onto one plate, your belly finally full and happy. “Wow, you actually remember when we didn’t hate each other?”

“You really hated me?”

“A little bit. Your whole lovey-dovey act was a bit sickening.” You shrugged.

“Because you’re in love with Ji?”

You froze immediately.

Hyunae couldn’t just drop it? Her constant mention of Jisung was really putting a damper on your mood, and the itch of fight or flight was really beginning to kick in once again.

And to think things were going so well.

“No,” you said, shaking your head quickly. “No no, I have a boyfriend. Sort of... I’m not in love with anyone—”

“Y/n, look at me. Please,” she reached over the table to tap your chin with her pretty manicured finger, her face pulling into a soft smile. “Darling, it’s been almost two years since we graduated high school, and nothing has changed between the two of you since then. Even while you were dating other people. He still looks at you like you hung the damn stars and you still blush whenever he calls you those stupid little pet names he has for you. You’re both whipped.”

Your face softened under her stare. Her words hit a cord inside of your chest, but it was just something that made your head hurt when you thought about it. You didn’t want to think about it, let alone talk about it.

“Jisung and I have only ever been friends. Yes, we’ve been good friends for a long time, but he has never told me anything about liking me. If he can’t tell me something as simple as this then I don’t think I can—”

Suddenly her eyes were hard set, piecing fiercely into yours. It stopped you in your tracks immediately.

“Don’t make me get any more upset with you, okay?”

Hyunae was definitely a force to be reckoned with.

“Listen,” She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. “Jisung is the best guy I’ve ever dated and that probably won’t ever change. I want him to be happy, and I want you to be happy too. So please just think about things. I’m here telling you that this boy is head over heels in love with you—that he has been for years. His fault here is the fact that he’s so oblivious to his own feelings that he can’t see yours. He just—” her hands flailed in front of her, searching for her next words. “—doesn’t know how.”

You sighed. “I always liked Jisung when I was a kid. Hell, even earlier this year I could turn to you and say—yes, I am in love with Han Jisung.”

Hyunae blinked.

“But who the hell am I to say that I’m in love with someone? I’m not—I’m definitely not.” You sighed, mind wandering back to when things barely crossed your mind for longer than a minute. Things had been tossed around so lightly. “It was frustrating because it was so easy to like him when I was young. There wasn’t this huge word hanging over my head like there is now.”

Hyunae pushes her empty plate to join yours, speaking without a care. “You know that you don’t have to love him, right? You could simply like him.”

You felt the weight behind what she was saying in your chest, you didn’t have to label what you felt for him if you still weren’t sure. The only problem with that was that you knew what you felt for Jisung, and it was stupid. Because how could you look at someone and know how you felt when you hadn’t even seen every side of them?

You couldn’t remember when he had last been serious with you. Never once had he looked at you with the eyes of an adult and told you about his inner thoughts. That wasn’t who Jisung was, he avoided those thoughts.

He was only ever happy around you, and whether that was a good or a bad thing, you had no idea.

“Was Jisung ever serious with you?”

Hyunae was momentarily stunned by your out of place question but she recovered with a small hum. “Well, a little bit. Whenever he was upset or tired he’d get a little snippy, but serious? I’m not really sure.”

That was just how Jisung was.

“Huh…”

“Oh,” she chirped suddenly, her lead raising as if she remembered something. “There was a moment when he was always serious.”

Your head quirked to the side in question, eyes wide with curiosity. Despite knowing him for years, there was still plenty of unknowns to Han Jisung, and you were curious to know more.

“What is it?”

Hyunae’s mouth opened for a moment, then closed. Many things flashed over her face at once, but it was safe to assume that she was rethinking her words. Your chest fell.

Her eyes darted away from yours, guilt flashing over her features. “I don’t think I can tell you that.”

“Not fair,” frowning, you pouted. “That’s the worst cliffhanger ever.”

She tisked, small smile pulling to her lips. “Well,” she shrugged. “You could always move forward to find out.”

She was right, you could.

There were many things you had to move forward with, many people you had to have a conversation with; Jisung definitely being one of them. With a mental list of all the people that you had questions and answers for, everything only just began to clear themselves up. It was small, but it was something. Your head was always busy anyway, having things clearing out was like a breath of fresh air that you could barely reach.

But it was still something.

“You’re right. I think I just have to start with someone else.”

Hyunae smiled, “Get on with it then. Hurry your ass out of here.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting this,”

Maybe you shouldn’t have listened to Hyunae.

Your heart was pounding radically in your chest as you sat straight as a board on the spinning office chair of the notorious recording room. You hadn’t seen it since that day it all began—honestly it had seemed so long ago. The room was cleaned up and organized, all the wires neatly tucked into the back instead of sprawled all over the floor, and you found yourself focusing more on that than the person in front of you.

You almost had to force yourself to your chair, everything feeling way too heavy for your liking.

“What do you mean?”

Chan ran a hand through his messy curls. It was only a few days ago that you had wanted to run your own fingers through his dark hair.

“You and Jisung aren’t very subtle, but uh, I was just hoping you could like me—” he paused for a moment, filing through his mind for the right words. “—as well, I guess.”

“Oh…”

“Hey, it’s fine. Jisung’s a good guy, you guys will be good together.”

Had you stepped into a parallel universe where every ex was supportive instead of filled with rage?

“But—well, I don’t even know if we are going to end up together or anything like that. My head has just been all over the place lately and I definitely never intended to drag you into this mess. I feel awful, god I’m a terrible person, aren’t I—?”

“Y/n.” Chan said, voice firm.

Your cheeks heated at the realization of your otherwise embarrassing ramble.

“Sorry…” You squeaked.

Chan sighed, leaning more weight against his desk. “Don’t be sorry. I just don’t want you freaking out here. You need to know that I’m an adult too, none of this is all your fault.”

You froze for a moment—one stupid moment just looking into Chan’s pretty brown eyes and realizing how weak they made you feel.

Chan’s mouth curled into a sympathetic smile as a tear rolled down the apple of your cheek. His hand reached forward to swipe the intact droplet with his pointer finger, and a small giggle rippled through his chest.

“God��Don’t cry, stupid,” he suddenly brushed his hand over your face, an attempt to raise your spirits to the very end. “You’re making me feel bad.”

“I hate you…” You sniffed, swatting his hand away with a quiet sob.

As his finger ran over your wet cheek to collect the little drops that leaked down, you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry so you did both, once again crumbling under his touch.

“Hey,” he smiled. “You can’t hate me. I should be the one hating you.”

Your lip jutted out into a pout, one that he wanted so badly to kiss from your lips.

“Then we can hate each other.”

Chan hummed, watching as your jaw clenched in an attempt to keep your emotions from falling down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see just how conflicted you were, he knew that much.

“Okay. We can do that.”

And he leaned down to place a soft kiss to the top of your head, careful of the affection he gave you.

But it only made your stupid heart hiccup in your chest, opposed to the way it would’ve raced had it only been days prior.

With Jisung it was warmth that spread over your body, but with Chan it was like floating in a pool of water with all your clothes on; encasing and safe and just a little sticky.

You were sure if you wanted to chase after the brief relief that Chan brought to you, it was difficult to tell with the way you were trying to find your answers. Was one more chance unfair to Chan? Even after explaining your inner (and slightly unknown) thoughts and feelings to him about Jisung, could you still salvage anything if you tried one more time?

“Can I… kiss you please?” You asked, neither looking in his eyes or at his plump lips. You really liked his lips.

Chan smiled, eyes darting down to your little pout. He liked your lips too.

“You want to?”

You hummed, a small nod to tell him that you were too embarrassed to confirm his words with those of your own. But Chan was understanding and patient. He didn’t push you to do anything as Jisung did—Chan was so perfect, why the hell did you think about Han Jisung?

What was wrong with you?

You didn’t want to answer that question. You wanted it all to go away—the fear, the confusion, everything. And the way Chan was looking at you made you feel it all simmer down to nothing. His eyes were so soft.

You were backpedaling, you knew that. But it was hard not to when Chan felt so safe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His lips quirked up.

You felt bad for not liking Chan the way you liked Jisung. He was better to love and he showed you everything you had missed before. He held you when you were sad, cooed into your ear that everything was going to be alright when it was him who was taking the loss. Why did he do that?

Leaning forward, you all but collapsed into his embrace, finally feeling his soft lips again.

One thing you loved about Chan was his arms. You loved how they felt around you, and how strong they were. A lot of people liked his arms for those reasons too, you supposed. He may have been your first, but you certainly weren’t his.

How long were you going to go back and forth?

Reassurance was what you had with Chan, but with Jisung there was time. You took your time with him unknowingly, watching him with your brother as they played video games in Minho’s room. You were yelled at, pushed, and locked out, but you still got back up and pushed back. As uncool of a sister you were back then, you persisted.

Minho and Jisung would tease you and pick on you all they wanted, but you were still there at the end of the day. Tear stained cheeks and dirty clothes, and you were still there carrying your silly crush on your big brother’s best friend.

There was time spent building something to stand on, years of pining and banter lead to a feeling that you couldn’t just replace with a kind heart and a kiss.

No matter how nice the lips you kissed were.

Chan knew this too. He knew you were thinking of so many different factors at once, and he was still pulling you tight to him, aware that your kiss would be his last from you. What he felt with you was terrifying.

You both meant to forget.

His arms held you tight, hands respectfully placed on your waist as you pushed and pushed into the embrace. The kiss was all new and too intense, but there was something screaming at you to just keep going.

It grew more heated and your emotions mingled as a small voice began chipping away at the back of your mind; telling you that you didn’t deserve it, that you didn’t deserve him. Even as you found yourself lifting to your knees and straddling his waist, the voice persisted, not even silenced by the soft words that Chan spoke.

“I feel like you’re going to break if I touch you.” He admitted, voice unstable.

You shook your head in a daze, “I won’t, I promise.”

You wanted the thought of Jisung out—the thought of him touching another girl the same way Chan was touching you. Did he hold Hyunae like this? Did he kiss her like she was the most precious thing to him? Was there a chance that he would with you? Did he even want to?

You wanted no part of that thought so you pushed further.

“I’ll be okay, Chan. If it’s you, I’ll be okay.” You murmured.

Chan’s heart thudded in his chest.

And in that moment, he almost forgot that you were in love with someone else.

“Okay, I’ll take care of you.”

You smiled, a small burst of heat running over your cheeks.

“Sap…”

Chan nearly responded with, “but I’m your sap” but he managed to bite his tongue, distracting himself by slipping one hand under the hem of your shirt. His hand was cold but not unwelcome as it felt along your stomach, and for the first time being with Chan your thoughts slipped—his hand was too strong, too rough. It wasn’t soft and pretty like Jisung’s, it wasn’t warm and comfortable like Jisung’s had been around your waist that morning. Chan’s hands were veiny and cold to the touch. Of course ther was nothing wrong with that. But they weren’t Jisung’s.

All it took was one hug from Jisung to stir up your head, huh?

But he had felt so nice against your back, his with but muscular build feeling like it was meant to be there all along. He had hugged you from behind back in high school many times, his chin resting on your shoulder and his breath fanning over your neck. It was hard to focus then, and it had been hard to focus that morning as well. How did you not know it was Jisung?

Sure, he and Chan were similar in height but Jisung just fit differently.

And when his eyes landed on your neck, it had been the feeling of panic that crossed you. You didn’t want Jisung to see you like that—with another man’s markings over your throat.

A sudden thought crossed your mind as Chan slowed his lips journey on your neck…

Was it really Minho that was preventing you from dating?

The look in your brother’s eyes had been one of disappointment, but he hadn’t done anything, and deep down you knew there was no way he would really hurt the person you were in a relationship with. Of course he would scare them away and make it clear that he wasn’t a fan of you dating, but there you were, watching him do it, barely giving your big brother a slap on the wrist—

“Y/n,” Chan called, and you hadn’t even realized that he had taken his mouth off of your shoulder. “Babygirl…”

He tested the name on his tongue.

But his doubts were confirmed as you frowned. The nickname would’ve once sounded like heaven leaving his lips, but now...

He sent you a small smile after studying your features for a moment.

“Do you miss him, right now?”

Your eyes widened at his words—you did.

“No. Of course not,” you said, shaking your head with shaky inhales. “Why are you asking me that?”

There was an internal battle behind Chan’s eyes as he watched your face morph into discomfort. He was a little frustrated.

Chan removed his hand from underneath your shirt.

“If we’re going to be friends, Y/n… I don’t want you to lie to me anymore, okay?”

The shock that his words gave you made your eyes well up. It was like a punch to the gut to hear Chan scold you. He had never done such a thing before and you knew—you knew for sure that you couldn’t keep lying.

When you cried, Chan didn’t wipe away your tears, he simply kept his eyes on yours as his hand rubbed small circles on your back. You needed to cry, and of course Chan knew that.

He was Chan after all.

“I’m so sorry—” you hiccuped, swallowing air as your palms lifted to cover your eyes. “—this sucks. This really really sucks.”

Chan sighed, feeling the sleepless nights catch up to him as he watched you break down. It was the worst feeling. It wasn’t that you were very obviously in love with someone else despite how his own chest aches for you to sink back into him and kiss the tiredness away, no—it was the fact that it was tearing you apart. That was what hurt him the most.

“Go see Ji.”

Chan topped your head up with his finger, leaving one last peck to your tear covered lips.

“He’s probably still upset.”

You nodded, laying your head down on his chest with a shaky sigh. “You’re a good guy, Chan…”

“Yeah, I know.”

688 notes · View notes

sirensmojo · 4 years ago

Text

"KINDRED",5 - Tommy Shelby x Reader (x Alfie Solomons).

Warnings: Alfie is a warning, mention of abduction, swearing, guns, fluff & slight angst at the end.

Summary: You're an ex war-nurse reconverted as the leader of a feminist organisation. You join forces with the leader of the backstreet Birmingham gang, Thomas Shelby, to cut the head of the Fascist serpent, Oswald Mosley.

Word Count: 5K+

AN: Gina's family is totally OC as we know nothing about her in the show / POV alternate between characters' and Y/N's.

*Masterlist*

❰ Previous Chapter

*Margate, Solomons’ residence*

“Alfie!” You exclaimed. You were wearing a white woollen coat with fur around your neck, the same coloured futrzane at the top of your head flattening your finger-waved hair on each part of your face.

Under the woollen coat, you wore a light brown satin dress covering your full body with white high heels. Your look wouldn’t be complete without your blue stones jewellery collection of necklace and earrings. Your golden rings complimented her fingers above one of your white lace gloves.

That was the sound of your heels that made the man turn his head, his mind was elsewhere and he didn’t hear your call.

“Eh, eh, eh. Who that might be, huh, none other than Y/L/N.” He muttered to himself, squinting his eyes looking towards you.

You got closer to him and met with a frowning maid that looked at you with envy at the back of her eyes. You offered her a genuinely warm smile that let your white teeth out, which confused the maid.

“Glad to see you’re still breathing, Captain.” You reached to him.

You were always seemed to be open and all heart with women whereas you were the opposite with men.

“And what you be doing here, love? Thought I left you back in the smoke, innit?”

“Well I’m here Alfie, that war’s done, but there’s another one coming.” Y/N said outright. You stopped in front of him, took off the glove free of rings and passed your fingers through his hair, down to his cheek. Alfie remained silent as Y/N's fingers sprinkled his skin with sparks.

You grabbed his chin between your index and thumb, moving his head to the side, you were examining the damage that has been done to his right eye. “I met him.” You solemnly let out.

He already knew who you were referring to.

“He a fucking bookmaker, what you have with him?” He innocently let out, which made you chuckle a bit as you sat down on the sofa in front of him.

You clicked your tongue before slowly putting back your glove. “I love you, Alfie. There’s no bad blood between us but you know me. So don’t fucking try me.” Your threat was covered with an implied mention of your intertwined past, so you would reason with him with both reason and sentiment.

He grabbed the binoculars laying down next to him and raised it vertically towards the sea. “Fucking birds making noise all day annoying my peace of mind... If our mate didn’t shoot me I’ll be shooting ‘em, you know.”

“He was here before me, so you know he entered politics, Alfred.”

He glanced at you hearing his full name on your lips. No one but you ever called him that, and he had forgotten that habit of yours.

“I mean, he would’ve shot me anyway, right. But aiming right is free, innit?” He looked away. “Even at night, they be fucking screaming, mate. Try sleeping in some fucking screaming box.”

“You have trouble sleeping?” You snapped back, interested, catching the man's attention. He knew exactly what you were referencing to, shared memories about sharing beds during war.

“Not like that.” He got back to looking in his binoculars, choosing not to go on to that path.

“Not like that, huh?” You raised your brows at him, he had opened the gates and shall have what he asked for.

You let your coat fall on your arms, showing your naked shoulders and tilted your head. “We could still work it, like good old times, eh?” You teased the man, your Y/E/C piercing eyes not leaving his face.

Alfie didn’t even look at you. “Where’s your gun, Y/N?” He asked, presenting his palm to you, waiting. “Care to give it here for a sec?”

And without even thinking twice you grabbed your little gun from your shoulder holster under your coat and placed it in Solomon’s hand. You were watching his movements as he cocked the gun and aimed something outside the house you surmised to be the birds he was talking about.

“Thought you’d hand me one of your rifles, mad deceived ‘am now” He followed the targets with the gun without daring to shoot.

“War’s over, Alfie.” You put back on your coat and lit a cig before leaning backwards on the sofa, making yourself comfortable.

“Came in here telling me some war coming, now telling me it’s done…Come on, pick a struggle, love” He grumbled to himself as shifting his position.

“I lied. Actually, the war’s already here, and I have both feet in.” You raised your brows, smoking your cig.

“Me none.”

“Not yet.” You snapped back, getting up. “Look, Alfred. Margate’s not doing you any justice. Get back in business, come back to London.” You encouraged him. “You didn’t welcome me when I set foot in town. Didn’t even kiss me ‘bonjour’ *talking french* (=hello). I need my Captain back.” Your voice lowered on the last part as if you were pouting.

“Did you ever put your palm on one eye, eh? When child, you do that to see if life is any different seen by one eye or the other. You cover one eye with your palm and look fucking far away, yea. I used to do that often, you?” He stops what he was doing to glance at you, that was standing near him.

“No.”

“Well, life’s fucking different. Yeah” He nodded to himself confirming his story. “It really is, one eye doesn't show what you see with the other. I’m fucking blind, now. Can only see one side of life, can’t I?” He turned to you, staring. Under his confusing metaphor, he was talking common sense, and it wasn’t difficult for you to decrypt his code as you knew the character.

What he was saying was simple, the experience with Tommy & the Italians made him insensible to the things that used to interest him before. Business and power weren’t things he cared about now.

You silently nodded before sitting right next to him. You put a palm onto one of your eyes and looked to the sea, searching for the screaming birds. Once you found one, you rushed your hand under your dress, to the inside of your thighs, your hand came out with another gun that you pointed straight forward before shooting.

A bird’s helpless scream was heard before Alfie’s mouth opened. “Damn, woman. You still got this.”

“You just gotta picture what’s behind the black spot, Alfred. You fucking draw the lines in your head, because you’ve seen them. They’re here, somewhere in your mind, you just gotta draw them.” You muttered to his ear and he let out an “Um.” before trying to also shoot a bird.

(...)

When Y/L/N's foot touched the gravels of Small Heath’s ground, each women’s head turned to her as a disturbing silence spread over the crowd. She got out of the car when Lizzie opened her mouth, catching the attention of Polly, “He’s fucking her.” She spat with disgust, her eyes filled with jealousy and fear of losing Thomas once again.

Once a month, the peaky girls joined the reunion of women in Small Heath��s streets. This meeting's purposes were to one, show men that women, too, could gather, and second, to scare the institutions and politics about the numbers of women ready to fight for their rights. It was originally organized by Jessie Eden, a communist & feminist leader, but quickly was taken over by Y/F/N and her organisation.

Deleting the "communist" part of this meeting surely helped women gathered even more as they knew they weren’t directly taking sides in political matters, so the risk of getting arrested was low.

Polly’s eyes went from Lizzie to Y/N, who was shaking hands with some women wearing a soft smile along with a determined gaze. “Saw her once, going out of Tommy's office.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Every woman he be fucking went to his office.” She seemed fed-up, one of her feet angrily taping the ground back and forth.

“What business does Tommy have with a feminist?” Pol’ utterly murmured to herself, frowning. What was her surprise when she recognized the other woman coming out of the car, being none other than Ada.

The Thorne, initially Shelby woman, stood right next to Y/N, her brown hat set down on her finger waved hair. She wore her cream woollen coat with fur on her neck and ends of sleeves with pale rose heels. Her nails were bordeau-painted and complimented the red of her lips.

Polly never thought of Ada being interested in anything but communism, but here her niece was, and the thing that hit the Gray woman the most was that Ada seemed to belong there, talking to women and shamelessly shaking their hands. She wasn’t as reserved and distant as she usually was when around people.

“Let’s get out of here.” Polly started to walk away.

Lizzie frowned, “No reunion today?” She seemed relieved, she will not have to face the blonde woman that troubled her most lately.

“No reunion today.” Pol responded. She didn’t want to learn anything from Ada’s activities by spying, but she’ll surely try to draw it out of her later.

(...)

“You what?”

“Ada, sit.” You motioned to the nearest chair.

After the reunion, they both went to the house you bought for the organisation. It wasn’t big, nor elegant. It was a simple Small Heath’s house reconverted in an office.

If you wanted to stand a chance in changing the traditional standards toward women’s place in society, you needed to expand your organisation. You would put cabinets at each corner of the streets if needed. Women needed to know they stood a chance, they needed to know they weren’t alone in their battle and they needed to know they are protected, and that part, you made sure to honour.

“No, I’m not going to fucking sit. You didn’t talk about abducting somebody’s daughter, Y/N!”

Even if you didn’t have the police in your pocket, Tommy did, and their deal gave you the assurance you'll be able to run your business the way you wanted to. It was always better to have someone else command people to leave you alone than you using your high social status to get what you wanted. This way, if things went bad, it wouldn’t be you that’ll take the blame.

You sighed while raising your brows at Ada’s reaction. You pulled out your cigarette case and lit one that you handed her. Thorne took it and went to sit on the sofa, leaning her back to get comfortable.

“Damn, you’re just like him.” Ada let out, glancing at you who let out a “Huh?” of confusion.

You were intently looking at her as she also seated on the couch in front of you. You ignited yourself a cig and puffed on it, waiting for the other woman to process the information of you abducting Gina Gray.

“It’s like I’m in a meeting with Tommy.” She sighed. “It’s always about business and I can’t read him.”

In other words, you didn’t need Tommy to keep the police away from your activities, you could do it yourself if you wanted to. But taking care of this yourself meant to jeopardize each person in your organisation, and you couldn’t afford to risk it all.

“I saw you leaving the library with one of my women.” You blatantly let out, smoking your cig.

Ada frowned and shifted her position, she was uncomfortable. “She’s interested in communism.” She tried to defend herself as her cheeks reddened.

“I’m not judging you, I’m showing you it’s not always about business.”

“I was talking about you, not me.”

“This organisation is me, Ada, and you’re in it now. I know everything I need to know about it and I do everything I need to do for it.” You leaned towards the brown-haired woman.

In fact, it wasn’t at all about the expensive jewellery, nor the luxurious heels. It was about you having a family you cared about even if your kin weren’t blood-related.

Even if Ada understood what the woman in front of her meant, she couldn’t help but to roll her eyes, she heard this speech many times before, upon her brother’s lips. “Yeah, totally Tommy.” She tilted her head to the side. “You’re always avoiding the subject when I talk about him.”

“He’s not my business.”

“Lizzie would argue otherwise.” Ada raised a brow at you, meaning she knew what happened when you and Lizzie first met in Tommy’s office.

You chuckled, crossing your legs.

“What is it between my brother and you?” She asked.

“You’re bored, Ada. That’s why you want the details. Get back with that woman you found and spend time together, huh?” You dismissed the Shelby woman. And this time, Ada scoffed because Tommy once told her the exact same thing about her being bored.

You gained composure again and straightened back up, “You with me on that or what?” Your tone suddenly went serious again, and Ada’s expression changed.

“Why do you ask about my opinion, don’t you like giving orders all the time?” Ada teased the Y/E/C eyed woman. Y/L/N liked that about the Shelby sister, she was always pushy without being aware.

“Stop being petty, Ada. You’re more of a thinker rather than a doer.” She dismissed the remarks.

“So why do you want my help in the first place?” Ada pondered, confusion in her eyes. The things Y/N struggled to understand was how Ada didn’t see the potential that resided in her. She would always diminish herself and her power for some reason when Y/L/N thought of her as a force of nature that begged to shine.

“I just need that pettiness and fearlessness of yours. Like a kind of representative.”

“Of you?”

You shook your head. “Representative of the organisation.”

“It’s Michael’s wife and I’m a Shelby, meaning she’s family.”

“You’re a Thorne, Ada. And these fucking people out here don’t give a fuck whose side you’re on. They’ll kill you whenever they get the occasion to. I know you don’t like this, but it’s a Shelby I need on this field.” You were pointing your index at the windows, leaning toward Ada.

“You know Gina's people?” Ada exclaimed, raising her hands in exasperation.

You tilted your head to the side to confirm, your eyes deeply in Shelby’s.

“Am a Thorne or a Shelby on the field?” Ada raised a brow to you.

“Both are strengths.”

(...)

You were sitting at the counter of the Garrison, sharing a drink with Arthur when the doors opened on Tommy. You didn’t see him come your way, but Arthur did. He glanced at his brother and grabbed his own drink before joining people elsewhere ignoring your presence.

You looked at him, frowning, and that’s when you turned around you noticed Tommy’s presence. You rolled your eyes at him. “You like to scare off my dates?” You sat back down, sipping on your drink.

“I like the dress,” Tommy said, ordering a whiskey. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, but God knows it was because of the look he gave you while entering the pub that Arthur went away.

“Yeah?” You questioned quite surprised Tommy noticed you weren’t dressed as usual. “It’s different from the suits.” You added, seeing he wasn’t going to pursue the conversation.

The blue-eyed man glanced at Y/N's drink. “You drink rum now?” He grabbed his cigarette case and ignited one before handing it to the woman that gladly took it, a smile on her lips. He lit another one for himself.

“You’re alcoholic enough to tell the difference between whiskey and rum without tasting it?” Your suave voice made him look at you as clenching his jaw at your remark, this was all you would get from him.

“I’ve met with Mr Solomons, I thought it was the least I could do to buy some bottles of his.” Tommy’s eyes that were staring at Y/N's lips went up in a hurry when hearing her confession.

“You did what?” Thomas turned so his body faced the woman, his eyes anchored deeply in hers.

He was never so sure about your intentions, nothing was ever sure with you, whereas it was your feelings or what was in your head. And your unreadable face didn’t help a bit.

“I’m drinking rum, now.” You raised your brows at him, cheerfully.

The warmth your smile ignited in him wasn’t enough to make him forget about what you just said. Tommy’s lids fluttered as he remained silent, blankly looking at you. He was aware you thought of Alfie to run the south, as well as himself, but he didn’t expect you to be so direct and visit Alfie Solomons that fast.

“Stop looking at me like that, Tommy. You knew about Alfred and me.”

A wave of questions flowed through his mind, from the tender tone you worded Solomon’s name to the hidden message behind your words. What did you mean by he and you? Something was screaming at him that your relationship went beyond business at a certain point.

His brows raised. “Alfred, eh?” He scoffed, turning back to the counter, puffing on his cig.

He suddenly remembered the war records, informations hitting him like thunderbolts. You were in the same section. Alfie was the Captain of a battery in the artillery where you were sent. You knew each other.

“I also made him talk about the little arrangement you didn’t tell me about.” You let out dismissively. You weren’t blaming him for not telling you he asked Solomons to send his men to create a riot when Mosley will do his speech, you simply voiced your surprise. You thought he trusted you and were deceived to discover that he, in fact, did not.

A minute that seemed to last centuries passed, and you glanced at him. You were silently smoking as he was deep in his thoughts, not even looking at you.

“Well, it seems I’m not aware, no.” His voice was deep and he coughed before drinking his whiskey, his icy eyes looking straight forward to him.

You squinted your eyes in confusion before realizing he didn’t listen to you, he was still on that Alfred thing.

“You don’t listen to me.” You got up, blankly looking at him.

Tommy feigned not to see you, but when you raised a hand to his that was leading his cup to his mouth, a shiver ran down his spine in anticipation.

Even if he wanted to ignore you or how you made him feel, his body betrayed him.

You tenderly grabbed his wrist and pulled his arm towards you. Your piercing eyes met with his cold ones, as you dangerously neared your face.

Y/N ended up connecting the tip of their nose before slowly teasing his lips with hers. He was looking into your soul hidden in your iris and you were doing the same, you were the same.

You might be using flirt along with charm to get what you wanted from men, but with Thomas, it wasn’t the same. He had the exact same hold on you that you had on him, and both could feel it when in an intimate moment.

Their intimacy wasn’t simply about sex, a hunger due to an innate desire or need, no. It began the minute they would shamelessly dive into the being of the other. When he was undressing your soul with the most usual look.

You ultimately sealed your pleading lips together, considering they stayed apart for too long. Their warm breaths intertwined as both of you forgot everything around you, this moment belonged to no other than you, this instant was yours.

You could pretend you weren’t emotionally involved as long as you wanted when alone. But you couldn’t lie when in front of him. You didn’t feel the need to. You could just be yourself, it was more than enough there, at the mercy of his fingers.

Out of breath you pulled away, you opened your eyes to Tommy’s one looking straight at you again, and that made you laugh. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your rare giggles.

Nothing needed to be said when your eyes were connected, as well as nothing needed explanation when your lips were sealed, you were him and he was you. The urge of feeling your inner worlds collide again, Y/N came kissing him some more, to Tommy’s greatest pleasure.

“I know about using Alfie's men.” You murmured without leaving his lips, and he nodded slightly.

“I knew you would find it one way or another.” He answered. One of his hands went to your back as he was fondling you with his thumb above the fabric, he pulled you closer to him as your fingers were passing over his lips in a tender way.

You hit his chest with your other hand, realizing he wittingly kept his deal with Alfie from you just so you would get a little mad. It was his way of teasing you about the fact you cared.

He was purring under your touch when the doors opened. Polly’s eyes directly dropped on Tommy and the librarian before quickly glancing around the pub, meeting with Arthur’s. They both marked a pause and looked back to the two bill & cooing birds...

It wasn’t Tommy’s type to be that open about his relationship with a woman, but Polly already knew what was in his mind. He was convincing himself it was solemnly business, as with the other women he works with, but she knew he was starting to fall in love without even noticing it.

You both got back to reality and pulled away when Pol walked to you, going back to your respective drinks as if nothing happened. She placed herself in between you two, forcing you to take a step aside.

Tommy coughed, looking into his drink as if there was the most interesting thing in there as Y/N grabbed her things, she then started to walk away. And without even looking back, she passed the Garrison’s door.

Polly was staring at Thomas, her words useless in this situation. He glanced towards her and quickly went back to drinking, he wasn’t going to have that conversation with her.

It was Arthur, coming back to the counter that brought up the previous display between his brother and the librarian, “See Polly, my brother got another singing bird.” He was smiling before encountering Tommy’s eyes telling him to shut up, making his smile fade.

“And what you think it is, Thomas? Business?” Her deep trembling voice made him close his eyes a long time as he sighed. “It is love, Arthur.” She glanced at the man behind the counter. “You’re brother’s in love.” She continued, leaning to Tom, dramatically making him know in what he trapped himself.

He opened back his eyes and firmly dropped his fist on the wooden board in a thud, coughing away her words.

The Peaky Blinders head drank from his drink before quickly glancing to the doors you passed minutes ago, lost in thoughts. And as he was sure to think with his head, Polly knew he was thinking with his heart.

(...)

The man was walking slowly, each of his steps was heavy as the whistling escaping from his lips echoed on the concrete walls.

Ada that was on the other side of the wooden door looked through the window, trying not to overthink this situation. Since her first day as a book counsellor under the management of Y/N's organisation, she was never given major tasks. Rather kept at the very back of everything illegal.

But these past few days, she noticed Y/N was taking her to the important reunions, and Y/N's right hand, Ana, had been ordered to introduce Ada to “the work” as Y/L/N called it.

She didn’t know why it was her that had to meet with Gina’s father as Y/N was the one knowing what she needed from him, but Thorne kept away any negative thoughts, focusing on what needed to be done.

The door opened and a tall man entered. He was wearing a creamy long jacket, beige pants. Under the jacket, Ada glimpsed a shirt topped by a Roman collar similar to the priests’. His arms were crossed in his back.

He was pretty imposing, with large shoulders. Even under the fabrics, his browny chest and body could be seen.

Her gaze went up to his face, encountering his deep hazel coloured eyes staring straight at her. He got little eyes, their corner dropping as if he was sad. But she knew this type of man didn’t feel that emotion. Even if his iris were warm coloured, his gaze was cold, almost as if he wasn’t alive anymore, his eyes didn’t shine, they were glassy.

All those informations made Ada nervously gulp, continuing to examine the man’s face.

He had thick straight brows and he wore his brown curly hair slick on the side, one curl falling down his forehead.

He didn’t close the door behind him and walked to her until he was inches away. “You’re not Y/N.” His deep hoarse voice worded. And his remark made her instantly roll her eyes at him.

“Just sat, already. Can I offer you a drink?” Of course, she wasn’t Y/N, if he knew her, he would know it wasn’t as simple as that to meet with her.

“I don’t drink.” He squinted his eyes.

“Well, I do.” She turned to the counter to pour herself some whiskey and gladly started to sip on it as going to sit down. On his side, the man was walking in the room, stopping himself from time to time to examine the objects and frames he was surrounded by. “Is this your house?” He was fidgeting with a woman’s body paperweight.

“Your daughter doesn’t seem to be delighted by the fact you’re here.” She let facing him head-on.

He turned to her as she was staring at his face fearlessly. He delicately dropped the paperweight and went sitting down in the armchair in front of the brown-haired woman that followed his every move with her gaze.

“How’s your son? Mrs--” He feigned to search for her last name, but Ada knew he wanted her to understand that whoever she might be, he could get to her and her family if he decided to.

Of course, it wasn’t Ada’s house, but everything was made to make him believe so. They put some of her personal photographs with her son along with other personal effects.

“Thorne. Ada Thorne. And my son’s alright.”

This way, he will think he has the advantage over her, and if he wants to try anything, this is this house that will be targeted. But in fact, this house was one of the many business properties Y/L/N owned in the neighbourhood.

“Oh my.” He chuckled, raising his brows. “She got political alliances.” He crossed his legs and leant backwards in the chair, his arms laying on each of the armrests.

“You’re interested in politics Mr Rice?”

The man gave a faint smile hearing she knew about him more than he knew about her.

“Everything’s politics, Mrs Thorne.” He raised his gaze to her. He wasn’t being pushy or aggressive, but the atmosphere around him was heavy. His presence made her uncomfortable, and if she wasn’t a Shelby, she’d be unable to face him and stand the stare.

She nodded to him, thinking he answered right.

“I’m no longer in business, Y/L/N knows that very well. I left my brother in charge, it is him you need to see.” He was choosing his words meticulously, and each sentence he spoke was filled with unsaid things.

Not only was he implying that Y/N might be incompetent cause she picked the wrong guy, but he underlined the fact it was a family business, meaning abducting his daughter, wasn’t the best idea.

For a second, she thought her boss may have committed an error by forcing this Mr Rice to come to England, but she was quick to understand he was trying to destabilize her.

“Did you come all the way from Chicago to tell me I need to address another man? Wouldn't it be more intelligent to tell that in a call? ” She raised a brow, and now she was the best match for this meeting.

The man remained silent as he was smiling again, understanding his strategy will not work with her.

“It’s not about a man, not your brother, not you. It’s about Gina, your daughter, using your own methods to manipulate her husband to take control of something bigger than her, something she couldn’t even manage to take care of if she succeeds at having it. But we both already know, in reality, it’s your brother using her.” She returned him his evil smile before tilting her head. Her words sounded like bombs in the man’s ears. Acknowledging the fact his brother might use Gina for his own needs made Mr Rice gritted his teeth as one of his hands clenched into a fist.

He had been trying to get into her head, manipulating her into believing their actions were useless and that nothing could be done about the plan his daughter and Michael had. But being a Shelby as well as a Thorne, Ada knew how to handle those types of people.

“Well, you saw right through me. I see now why Y/N chose you.” He raised both his hands in admittance of his defeat.

Even if the man in front of her seemed harmless, she didn’t want to stay alone with him any longer. He was peculiar, from the way he was standing to his aura, she knew Gina's father was a weasel. She could read in his eyes he was lurking for the moment she'd let down her guard to get to her.

“Now you will meet with her.” Ada decided it was the end of this interview, surprising herself into taking such a decision. Maybe Y/N wanted her to do something more?

She gasped when getting up, which helped her get her mind clear. She understood her role was to make him realize he wouldn’t escape until they have what they wanted from him.

She went to the table, writing an address, a day and an hour on a piece of tissue paper. She then walked to the bearded man and handed him the fabric.

“Now business can begin…” She paused, keeping him from taking the paper. He glanced at her, sighing. “And leave your shenanigans at the door for this meeting, bring your will to cooperate instead... She way worse than me.”

(...)

*Shelby Company Limited*

Tommy opened the door to his office, he intended to walk towards his desk when hearing a low voice. “Arthur asked whose side I’m on.”

He turned around to a curled up Polly in the chair at the corner of his dark office. She wasn’t facing him, her body was halfway turned, as well as her face, leading her to look at him with side-eyes.

He didn't need to ask her what she was talking about. Since the meeting where Michael offered to run the business family, taking Tommy's place, she was distant, as if thinking about her son's proposal.

Tom surmised tonight was the time she'll give her final answer.

It was raining, the wind violently slapped the windows as well as the raindrops, the outside storm perfectly reflecting the conflictual atmosphere settled between the two. The climate deprived the office of any light, but a shy desk lamp faintly illuminated the place.

He took off his black gloves, throwing them on the table separating them. He then sighed and went sitting on the chair, raising his gaze to her, waiting for her to continue to speak.

“There will be a war, and one of you will die.” Her deep trembling voice along with the lapping of the rain on the windows added to the dramatic atmosphere.

Tommy sighed, he knew she was right. He was, indeed, waiting for a war. “But which one I cannot tell.” Her black eyes were staring straight into Tommy’s blue one.

He let out a “Hum.” surmising she’ll not add anything else. He nodded to himself, “he’s gonna do it anyway.” he continued. It wasn’t a question, this would explain her presence in his office that late in the night.

“Yeah.” She responded.

“You should know, if Aberama takes his side I will kill him.” Tommy said upfront.

She looked down before raising her gaze to him again, “And what about me?” She wasn’t blinking, patiently waiting for the confirmation of Tom’s determination to stop her son.

Tom paused, he was aware she was trying to know his intention and he was debating within himself if he could afford to let her know.

“I’ll do what I have to do, Pol” He dropped his definite sentence, he didn’t move his stare or body a bit. He didn’t need to let her know how determined he was, it was already showing.

“Kill… And kill.” She sang with a low voice, slowly blinking. She seemed tired of this situation, as well as tired of it all.

“It’s the only way to make people listen” He nodded his head to the side as murmuring his words.

Since her near-death experience with the noose, she wasn’t the same Polly that he knew. She was only a mere shadow to the person she once was. But this time she seemed truly fed-up.

The thunder was rumbling outside when she got up with slow movements. The sound of her high heels nearing him mixed with the sound of the rain racing down the windows.

She grabbed an envelope as well as her drink. “Soon, you will have a stage to stand on. Millions of people will listen to you. And you will run the country like you run this family.” Her head was held high.

She was looking down on Tommy.

He knitted his brows, holding the stare even if he had to raise his head to meet her. “It appears to be what people want.” He nodded to himself, trying to convince him, or her of what he was saying.

“But not me.”

He blinked.

“Not anymore.”

He blinked again.

“My resignation.” She concluded while dropping the envelope on the table before him. She also put down the empty cup and looked at him some more before turning her back at him and walk toward the exit.

He stared at the empty space in front of him where the woman used to stand prior as he heard her steps receding. Tommy inhales deeply before sighing, dropping his head forward. Her words hit him as bullets would’ve. She was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind. Polly had always been more to him than what he ever showed, and the fact she let him down now did hurt him.

Tommy grabbed his gun from his shoulder holster under his suit jacket and looked at it while exhaling. He moved his hand, turning the gun on both sides, looking at it as looking at a let-out.

Nothing would stop him from founder now. He could embrace his demons and play how he wanted.

Following Chapter ❱

#tommy shelby x reader #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders fanfic #thomas shelby x y/n

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amethystpath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Cage of Moonlight and Magic:

You guys asked for a collab so here’s collab number one, with the one and only @nightfrostshadow ! We had a blast writing this and bouncing ideas off one another, so sit back and enjoy :)

******

“Listen to me carefully,” Supervillain held Villain’s chin, slid his hand so casually near his circus pet’s neck- his throat. “Those water and ice crystals are not yours at all. They are mine, you hear me? They are the audience’s. You exist only to provide entertainment, to provide glory. But you are neither of these things without your powers.” He stepped back, peering at his subject with a glimmer in his eyes.

“I’ll kill you,” Villain promised. “Someday when you least expect it, I will do it.” He’d said this before, many times- with many bouts of frustration, confidence, and determination.

Supervillain laughed. “With water?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being swept away by a current?” For once, Villain allowed a smile to curve upon his lips. Something wicked enraptured his thoughts- more than just murder; it was torture. “When the water is so fast, so strong, that your head never breaks surface ever again. You drown.”

The hand near Villain’s throat faltered, but ultimately tightened. “Don’t forget who you are speaking to.” And that was the end of that.

***

“I think it’s fun,” Hero said, “when the little kids’ faces curve into shining smiles. And the adults, too. I wonder how many grandparents have made our show their last one. What an honour, isn’t it, Villain? That we may be the last magic someone sees?”

Villain who had been gloomily forming a little water tornado in his palm looked up at Hero. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed, and the swirling water fell to the ground.

“Does it not bother you that we are nothing but tools to Supervillain?” Villain asked. “Meant to forever use our powers in such a pathetic way, to entertain people? Would you not rather be the one in power of your own life? To live free…free to do whatever we want with our powers instead of what Supervillain wants!” What a magnificent fantasy Villain let reel in his mind.

He shifted his body, knees dragging in the dirt- in his bed. “I’m reduced to having to put up waterwork shows. Waterworks can you believe it? Out of all the things I can do?”

A spritz of water in Hero’s direction. “And you.” He waited for Hero to meet his eyes. “With your stars and fireworks…you could do so much more. We could do so much more, Hero. Yet here we are, the famous opening act for Supervillain.”

Hero pondered over this as she thoughtfully looked down at her own hands, making little stars and sparkles erupt from her fingers, thus illuminating the surroundings. Such a great contrast to the darkening sky, she thought before answering Villain. “We bring light to the people watching, you know?” Literally, in Hero’s case.

“You could bring heat to them as well.” Villain was watching the little sparks in his co-worker’s hands as she’d spoken. Darkly, he thought, She could set the world ablaze if she wished. “Don’t you understand that we are animals to them? They think we are tamed.” He expected a response- anything besides Hero’s plain face. “That fact doesn’t bother you at all?” Villain’s voice pitched, incredulous.

Hero smiled slightly as she sent out a shower of sparkles raining down on them with a flick of her fingers and met Villain’s eyes as she spoke “I try not to think about it, you know? I just think of the good in every situation. It helps me be happy and peaceful. Besides, we’ve been here long enough; it’s not like we can leave so I just find the wonder in everything we do…it warms my heart to see the joy in people’s eyes as they watch us perform. You should try it, too, Villain.” She looked at him earnestly.

Villain stared at her in disbelief as he smiled bitterly,” There is nothing that can warm my heart here. Looking at the joy in peoples’ eyes as they don’t even care about us? Looking at them angers me even more. All they care about is watching the magic show in front of them. What has there been for us to celebrate in these past years?” Villain took a deep breath. “Nothing. I haven’t felt happiness in ages, Hero…and my heart?” He formed ice at the tips of his fingers as if to demonstrate- “It’s frozen.”

He sighed as he laid down on his bed- if you could even call it that. Once again he longed for the blanket he desperately needed, yet was never given on the cold winter nights.

***

“Up and at them, monsters.” Supervillain casted his light throughout the tent room, illuminating every square inch, every shadow hiding in every nook and cranny. He seemed to ignore his own monstrous ability.

Perhaps moonlight wasn’t such a devious subject to some, but to the magis, it was the cruellest of all magics- a searing light close to a large pane of lasers. The light hurt. And Supervillain was fond of using it every day, using it to wake his subjects up, to force them into the confines of a life hardly worth living. A circus like what they performed was better than the pain, but the pain was inescapable.

“We have a big show tonight. Some very esteemed guests will be making an appearance. You will all be expected to put on your best performance.”

As eyes creeped open, and quiet gasps and shouts of pain sounded around the dirt room, Supervillain’s lips curved into a bow. He did love the sounds and movements they made under his power- something incapable of being shown to an audience, per say, but something most definitely to be used behind closed curtains. He was thankful there was no expected sizzle to come from the burning skin of his subjects. The audience might hear that, and then what would his show be?

Villain rolled over onto his stomach, pushing himself up onto his knees and collapsing in on himself to form a ball. The moonlight burned, as usual, but it was worse on this late night. He felt the light in all places, even those not accessible- hence the tight position he held himself in, a form of self-defence. Moonlight poured between his lips, filling his mouth in a pain that could only be expressed through blood-curdling screams.

Knowing Supervillain and his antics, Villain had the sense to guard the sounds he made in a self-made bubble. Should anyone outside this room hear his screams, they would become concerned; they might try to break into the performers’ room. Supervillain would do worse than let the moonlight flow inside Villain’s body, then.

“It feels like drowning, doesn’t it?” Supervillain asked, so suddenly knelt on the ground beside Villain’s bubble of muteness. “Do you regret your words from yesterday yet? Will you behave today?”

As experimental as Villain was with his powers, he never once tried to purposefully experience the feeling of drowning. Right now, though, he could imagine this burning inside his body must be what it felt like to breathe in water. He didn’t have gills despite many people’s beliefs. He knew the feeling of water shooting up one’s nose, of coughing and gagging on it with the ever-present idea of never breathing again. Water was scary, even he would admit.

It was in this moment that his bubble fell. Villain swallowed his screams, clenching every muscle in his body to prevent the sounds of continued pain. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say, if only to stop Supervillain’s act of revenge. “Won’t- won’t threaten you again.” But, of course, he would. The fight, the defiance, was in his blood.

Esteemed guests, he said? Villain focused on his thoughts as the moonlight slowly escaped his body. I’ll be sure to give them a show, then.

***

It hadn’t taken long for Hero’s eyes to widen with surprise as she’d watched Supervillain slowly stride on over to Villain with a look of admiration in his eyes. Meanwhile, Villain had been writhing in what was undoubtedly pain. She could just barely hear his agonized screams through the water he trapped himself in. It was as if she had been listening to him beneath the water surface of a pool- goodness she missed those. Her jaw, which had apparently been opened, snapped shut in a desperate moment to withhold an empathetic cry.

Hero thought back on the conversation she shared with Villain earlier that morning- about how horrible this life was.

Yes. Yes, she could agree that certain aspects of it weren’t preferable, but…well, Villain did this to himself, didn’t he? He pushed and prodded- he poked the bear if you would. Albeit horrible, Villain’s treatment was somewhat deserved.

This didn’t mean that Hero didn’t find the treatment absolutely gut-wrenching. Sometimes she had nightmares about the same pain coursing throughout her own body. Fortunately, they were dreams and she only knew the pain existed within them because of her unconscious hollers.

Either way, Hero knew she could never exist in that amount of pain. She might very well pass out, and then what use would she be to the show? What use would she be to herself? Those bright, smiling faces in the audiences warmed her in a way her powers never could. They kept her going. They kept her alive.

So, she would withstand those slight waves of pain every day. She would endure because any alternative was too frightening, too dooming.

“Five minutes!” Supervillain announced, and with that, he stepped out, flaps of the tent room snapping shut behind him.

Not wasting a moment, Hero crawled over to Villain, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You’re okay?”

His response was a glare. He shrugged her off. “Get ready,” he said simply. “We have a great show tonight and little time to prepare.”

What Hero didn’t see was the vengeance pooling in Villain’s stomach, much like the moonlight Supervillain had placed there just a minute ago.

***

Villain smirked as he stood in position with Hero, ready to open the show, waiting for the curtains to rise. In three, two…

The curtain rose and as the audience stared, no doubt waiting, excited to see what the show had in store for them, the cue was given and Hero prepared to do her part, hands twirling with both anticipation and preparation.

Watching Villain, she faltered, one hand clumsily colliding with the other…all because she noticed something unordinary. Villain was not performing with her, and he had a look in his eyes, a- a gleam which Hero had never seen before. This can’t be good. Not only did Villain have such a mischievous glimmer, but he had not moved from his initial position.

With eyes now closed, Villain summoned all the water he could. Opening them once again, he sent his arms forward- a fast motion which released wave upon wave, crashing into the audience.

He laughed darkly as he sprinkled a whirlpool here, a current there, and a water tornado- which served as an escape, a path of destruction that cleared the way of all the chairs, as well as the audience members themselves.

Just as Hero had faltered before, Villain did in that very moment- a familiar pain blossoming in his body. He gritted his teeth.

Supervillain had begun fighting him more quickly than expected. Clearly, the waves that had engulfed him, therefore knocking him over, and the shards of ice Villain had aimed towards his chest, hadn’t been enough.

But he couldn’t stop clearing the path- the only path that could ensure him life- ensure him freedom. His motivation to succeed tonight enraptured his every move…because if he failed…well…he didn’t want to think of the consequences.

The adrenaline which Villain possessed now helped him more easily bear the once excruciating pain. Now, it was only a dull throb, a throb that allowed Villain to continue concentrating on clearing the path of obstacles, for anyone in his way would regret it.

Villain’s body ached, having never spent so much energy on his powers. Especially not at the same time as Supervillain using his own powers so strongly against him.

Struggling to hold on as he started to feel the pain sharper than ever, Villain focused on the path- his salvation- ahead. Supervillain was no match for the determination manifesting in Villain’s veins.

***

Hero was lost in the literal sea of madness. A part of her was grateful to only feel the sprinkle of swirling water around her, yet another quaked at the sight before her- of the people she so graciously served being tossed like ragdolls.

What was worse: the sight of Villain captured in his cage of moonlight, or seeing the audience so helplessly being…being drowned? For once, she decided on the latter. Hero never imagined a day would pass that Supervillain’s power wasn’t the most terrifying thing in existence. Seeing what Villain did now, though? It was horrible- excruciating.

On another hand…Hero understood. Villain endured so much pain, so often, who else wouldn’t lose their mind- wouldn’t wreak havoc if it meant being free of the torture? Clearly, this life wasn’t meant for him. And he was stubborn enough that fighting for such freedom was all he’d ever know.

Seeing as Supervillain was just as strong-willed, he’d never stop torturing- never stop trying to break Villain. Making an escape was Villain’s greatest hope.

Who was Hero to try and stop him?

******

*insert cliffhanger* Mwahaha 😈

Part two here

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