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wannabe-fic-writer · 3 years ago

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WandaNat x Reader : Falling For You

Summary: You finally get everything you ever could’ve wanted.

Covers the “Campfire/Fireplace” square for fall bingo.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2,169

* * * * * *

This was a terrible idea. One you knew you would come to regret agreeing to, but at the moment you were asked to participate, you couldn’t possibly say no.

With the two pairs of gorgeous green eyes staring at you coupled with an annoyingly knowing smirk and an adorable pout, there was no way you could deny their request.

That’s how you find yourself hiking a trail over fallen leaves, shivers rolling over your body as your two best friends chat away at your side.

They keep their voices at a low whisper, not allowing you to hear or be a part of their conversation. While you would normally feel some kind of way about it, you’re far too cold to sulk about it.

You furiously run your uncovered hands up and down your arms, hoping the friction of your jacket would warm you up and combat the cold surrounding you.

Apparently neither of them remembered to check the weather for the day. When you asked Natasha said it was fall and shrugged.

So you dressed accordingly, jeans, boots, a sweater and a jacket. It isn’t enough. It’s much colder than a normal fall day, instead it feels like the beginning of winter.

You look down at your feet. The crunch of the leaves beneath your boots is a little louder than usual since the morning dew had frozen, adding a small layer of ice over the dead foliage.

A huff falls from your lips and you drop your hands, shoving them into your pockets instead. It’s not like your rubbing was doing anything.

“How much further is this secret destination?” You ask.

Both women look over at you, small frowns on their faces at your tone of voice. You hadn’t meant to snap at them but cold was starting to affect your mood.

You smile apologetically and Natasha rolls her eyes and chuckles. Wanda knocks her elbow against Natasha’s arm, then moves to your other side.

She wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you close,“ it won’t be much longer detka.”

“Yeah,” Natasha pulls your hand from your pocket and laces your fingers with hers,“ we’re almost there dorogoy.”

Detka, dorogoy, lyubov. You have no idea what those words mean but she and Natasha were always calling you them. Sly little smiles would form on their lips when they did and you’d wish you knew why. All they would tell you is that it’s Russian and not a bad thing.

When Natasha squeezes your hand, Wanda lays her head on your shoulder, and you sigh.

It was things like this that made your friendship with them hard.

The two of them have been dating since before you even met. You first ran into them at the coffee shop you worked at. They came in and took a seat at a table in the corner and you approached them, almost instantly commenting on how cute they were together.

Your one comment led to a friendship you couldn’t imagine you’d find with anyone else. Which also led to feelings developing that you fought tooth and nail to reject.

They first came for Wanda, the younger woman being the first to hangout with you one on one. Her sweet and empathetic behavior and words drew you in like a moth to a flame.

Then you started spending time with Natasha. Your first hangout was awkward to say the least. You aren’t the most outgoing and Natasha was closed off, it caused very little conversation and very long silences.

Both of you were tempted to not hangout again without Wanda, but decided to give it one more go. Which is exactly what you needed. You can’t recall how the day started but it ended with you two having a blast at a cat cafe. Your mutual love for the soft purring animal made you close.

Every second you spent with them made you fall faster. Rejecting your feelings stopped being an option once they’d gotten so strong. Now you try your best to ignore it, though that doesn’t work much either.

Especially not when they’re so affectionate with you like this.

“Look look, we’re here.” Wanda says, squeezing you excitedly.

Natasha smiles and shakes her head at her girlfriend’s excitement and as you all turn the curve, your destination now in sight, she looks at you.

Her smile widens as she watches your eyes brighten.

To anyone else, a cabin in the woods might not mean much but both women know that to you it's much more than that. A tradition to put it quite plainly.

Your parents made it a point to take you to a cabin when the season changed, wanting you to experience nature and such.

You hated it at first but it grew to mean so much to you. Not just growing to appreciate nature but also loving every moment spent with your parents, loving the memories you made with them.

“Wait,” your eyes move from the cabin to Wanda then Nat,“ are we staying here?”

Pink lips form into the perfect smile and she nods.“ We know you haven’t been in a long time.��

The passing of your parents was rough, without them you never found the will to come to a cabin again even though you’d considered it. When you were finally ready, you didn’t have the time.

Of course you’d shared these thoughts with your best friends and you knew they were listening, but you didn’t think they’d do something about what you told them.

While you were lost in thought, the women were worried. You weren’t saying anything and they couldn’t help but wonder if they’d overstepped.

Their plan would completely go up in flames if you were uncomfortable with this.

Swallowing, Wanda unhooks her arm from yours and steps in front of you.“ Y/n, detka, we don’t want you to be uncomfortable so if you don’t want to stay we won’t.”

Her words pull you from your thoughts and you register what she said, which makes you immediately protest.

“No, no,” you gently grab her hand, squeezing hers and Natasha’s.“ I want to stay I just, was thinking. This is really sweet of you two, thank you.”

They share a smile, then Wanda excitedly tugs on your hand.“ You haven’t seen the inside yet, come on.”

With more excitement than you and Natasha combined, Wanda pulls you both to the cabin. She shows you around as if this isn’t her first time being here. You notice she doesn’t mention the bedroom situation but you chalk that up to her excitement and figure there are two bedrooms.

“This place is beautiful,” you all stop in the living room where you plop down on one of the cozy chairs.“ but I can’t stay. I don’t even have clothes.”

“Oh we took care of that.” Natasha waves you off as she moves off to the side in search of something.

Wanda answers your confusion.“ What did you think I was doing when I went to your bedroom?”

You nod in understanding, recalling how she stayed behind you and Natasha the whole way down to the car and dipped away to the trunk before you pulled off.

“Always thinkin of everything huh?” You joke, slouching in your seat.

Frowning, Wanda comes over to you and reaches down to grab your hands,“ don’t get comfortable here, we’re gonna go sit by the lake and watch the sunset.” She adds a pout and pulls on your hands.

“But it’s so cold out.” You whine, dropping your weight back to make it harder for her to pull you up.

She doesn’t give up though, continuing and struggling to pull you up.

A sudden presence appears behind you, the redhead whom you love lowers herself, her mouth right beside your ear.“ Come on dorogoy, we’ll start a fire. Keep you nice and toasty.” Her hand gently rubs your arm and all you can do is nod, seemingly put in a trance by her sultry voice flowing straight into your ear.

Letting up, you allow Wanda to pull you up and you follow the two outside.

The younger woman laces her fingers with yours as you walk down to the lake. It’s across the trail through a small stretch of trees.

It’s a welcome sight, seeing the expanse of trees on the other side of the lake and the rocks and logs surrounding a makeshift fire pit.

You and Wanda sit on a log, taking in the scenery while Natasha set up the fire. The instant you shiver Wanda wraps her arm around you, pulling you into her side and rubbing your arm. You resist the urge to sigh this time, especially when you look over and see the happy smile on her lips.

The second the fire is lit you feel its warmth added to the body heat coming from Wanda. It knocks the initial chills away, but it’s not until Natasha comes to sit at your other side, that you start to warm up internally.

She takes your hand, squeezing it as she speaks,“ Y/n there’s another reason we brought you out here.” With a small frown of curiosity you look over at her. Taking a deep breath, she meets your eyes and continues,“ f-for a while now, myself and Wanda have been wondering um,” she stops to collect her words and you’re left utterly shocked.

In the year of you knowing her, not once had you ever seen the redhead look so nervous and be at a loss for words. She is the most badass person you’d ever met and right now a red blush is rising on her cheeks.

“Wondering what?” You decide to turn your attention to Wanda, figuring that Nat could calm down if she weren’t the only center of attention, only to find the brunette is also blushing.“ What is it Wan?”

Her soft green eyes rise to look into yours and she swallows.“ Well, we figured out that um, we started to feel differently towards you. Like, the feelings we had for each other became feelings that we both had for you.”

It takes everything in you not to freeze up at her confession. A number of emotions swirl through you and you open your mouth to say something, only to register one particular word.

“Had?”

Wanda’s eyes widen but Natasha answers.“ Have. We currently feel this way about you and we were wondering if you would be interested in being with us?”

Your face suddenly splits into a grin, one that both women immediately adore seeing.“ Are you being serious?” You ask and they both nod.

All this time you’d been falling for them and it turns out they’d fallen for you too.

A quiet snicker escapes your lips and you shake your head, earning slightly confused looks from the women.“ You know, if I didn’t have feelings for you two this would’ve been a terrible plan.”

While you can’t possibly imagine not loving them, you could picture and laugh at the awkwardness that would’ve ensued had you said no and the three of you were stuck up here together.

“Well I don’t think it would’ve been that bad. We’re still best friends so a little awkwardness maybe but-”

“Nat,” Wanda cuts the redhead off, gaining her attention.“ You’re focusing on the wrong things lyubov.”

It’s then that Natasha addresses the beginning of your statement.“ Wait so you’ll go out with us?”

Smiling, you nod.“ Yes I will. I’ve never done the whole poly thing but, I’m more than willing to try for you.” You turn your smile to Wanda,“ both of you.”

They look past you to look at each other, bright smiles exchanged between them. Suddenly Wanda lunges towards you, wrapping you up in a big hug and peppering kiss over your face.

A snort of a laugh leaves you as she kisses you and you hug her back with one arm, your other still occupied with your hand in Natasha’s.

“Okay okay Maximoff. I love you too.” You say with another soft laugh.

She pulls back, smiling even brighter. Then a finger curls under your chin and your head is gently turned, eyes meeting another pair of gorgeous green eyes.

“We love you too detka.”

Ever so slowly she leans in and kisses you softly. You melt into the kiss, a quiet sigh of content at finally finally being able to do this. And when she pulls away, quickly pecking your lips again, you’re pulled into a kiss with Wanda.

Her lips are a little softer than Natasha’s and she kisses you with a little more restraint.

A quiet smack parts your lips and you lean back against Natasha.“ I think I could definitely get used to that.”

Both women chuckle softly, Wanda leaning back against you and Natasha wrapping both arms around you and the brunette.

Right there, sandwiched between the two women you love as the heat of the campfire warms you, you’re happy.

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Taglist: @natasha-danvers @owloftheshadows @yumusak-yastik @blackxwidowsxwife @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @ecruzsalez

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #reader insert #request #storiesofsvufallbingo

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sleepysnk · 4 years ago

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i made this because honestly i could not get enough of dilf jean 😩❤ i hope you guys enjoy! ♡

Perfect Fit

Pairings: Dilf!Sugar Daddy!Jean Kirstein x Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW

A giggle escaped (Y/N)'s lips as she watched Jean take another one of her shopping bags, he was already holding four or five of them around his forearms.

"You sure you can hold all of that?" she asked, a smile on her features.

Jean chuckled, "Of course, anything for you princess."

Her cheeks grew warm from the nickname he had given her, Jean always treated her like a princess anyway; he got her anything she wanted. She was his sugar baby after all. According to Jean, she always deserved the best and the most amazing treatment.

"Where to now?" he asked, shoving his wallet into his pocket.

She started to make her way down the street with him by her side, she wasn't exactly sure where she wanted to go. The two had been to almost every fancy store downtown and it was almost like she couldn't decide, almost like a little kid who got a million different candy choices. This time she got to pick the candy she wanted.

"I'm not sure," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

Jean put his hand near the small of her back. "We can head back soon.. it has been a long day after all," he whispered, his voice husky.

She felt a chill go down her spine. "Sounds good to me," she smirked.

Jean caught the hint of amusement in her eyes, it was such a turn on for him. He loved the way she could look at him and make him harder than a rock, it was almost like her secret talent.

He looked around the streets for other shops he could take her into, his eyes scanned over the different shops and clothing stores. Nothing really caught his eye, until his vision fell upon the dark maroon doors of the lingerie shop.

His cock twitched at the idea of her in lingerie, she had always worn it for him whenever he asked, but it was always a turn on for him. He always ended up tearing it off and leaving the fabric all ripped, who could blame him? He just likes her that much.

"(Y/N), love," he said, stopping her in her tracks.

She turned to meet him. "What's up?" she asked, blinking.

He nodded his head towards the lingerie shop next to them. "Let's go in here," he replied.

She eyed the shop, shock written all over her face. She was certain she had passed this shop many times before meeting Jean, and she did it for a reason, the lingerie was expensive and it didn't necessarily come cheap.

"Okay.." she said, opening the doors, Jean following behind her.

The smell of perfume filled their noses as they entered, it was warm, almost like a blanket was placed over the two. It was better than the fall air outside.

Jean's eyes explored the different mannequins that had different lingerie placed on them, he could tell that it was the finest quality fabrics. It wasn't any kind of cheap thing a person could find online for $30, it was almost $190.

(Y/N) ran her fingers along the different bra and underwear sets, her mind wondering what she could try on or what color might fit her best. Jean always said she looked good in white or baby pink, he said it reminded him of an angel.

"Jean?" she said, turning back to see him eyeing one of the body suits.

His head turned towards her. "Yes? What's up? Did you find something you like?" he asked, nodding.

She made her way towards him. "No, but I do want to try some things on. Should I start with this?" she said, running her fingers over the fabric.

Jean blinked for a moment before speaking. "Yeah! Try it on, I want to see if it looks nice," he replied, holding it out for her.

She took it from his hands and turned to make her way towards the dressing rooms, a few women stood around looking at the lingerie, others just gawked at the way Jean looked. Who could blame them though? He always looked good.

"Just one?" the worker asked, looking at (Y/N).

She nodded, "Yes please,"

The worker led her to one of the dressing rooms near the far end, Jean trailing behind her with his phone in his hands. He was trying his best to distract the aching of his cock in his pants, but he couldn't help it, the idea of his sugar baby all dressed up for him made all the blood rush to his dick.

"Let me know if you need any help princess," Jean said, leaning against the wall in front of the dressing room she was in.

"I will!" she called back.

Jean looked up from his phone and crossed his arms, he wanted to get back home as soon as possible to relieve this ache. If he didn't he just might have to fuck her in the car, but it'd be such a mess, especially with how the two of them are.

An idea suddenly popped into his head, a dirty one too.

He looked around the hallway he was in, the only visible people around were some of the women going into changing rooms or the one worker who seemed bored out of her mind just standing there.

No one would catch him, right? He could always say she asked for help, plus it'd be quick.

Jean moved towards the door of the room, he could hear her shuffling around behind it. He assumed she was getting naked or somewhat nude, it'd be the perfect opportunity.

He knocked on the door. "(Y/N).. can I come in?" he asked, looking around to see if anyone was nearby.

He felt the doorknob click, she had unlocked the door. "Mhm.." she hummed back.

Jean opened the door and closed it as quick as he could, his eyes were filled with the sight of his sugar baby standing there with the lingerie on.

Oh was it the sight.

It fit her perfectly, the swell of her breasts were outlined by the black material, black hearts covered her nippes, and it hugged her body.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, blinking a bit.

Jean's mouth was slack, "N-No! You look.. so fucking sexy right now. I love it," he replied.

She felt her cheeks growing warm, she always felt bashful around Jean; he had such a way with words that it always made butterflies form in her stomach.

He plopped down in the small chair that was in the room, two mirrors faced each wall, giving Jean a view of both ends of her body.

"Come here.." he said, patting the spot on his lap.

She turned and sat down on his thigh, she felt a chill go down her spine as his hands began to explore the skin of her thighs. He played with the fabric near her cunt, which was starting to grow warm and pool with need.

"J-Jean?" she said, her voice coming out almost like a whimper.

His lips brushed against the skin of her neck, causing goosebumps to flare on her skin. "Do you like that..? It's very lewd of you to be turned on in a public place baby girl,"

A quiet moan escaped her mouth as his fingers found their way to her clit, her arousal pooled around it, soaking the lingerie she was wearing.

"Jean.. please!" she cried, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

Jean chuckled against her skin. "You gotta be quiet for me beautiful.. I don't want anyone to hear your pretty voice when I make you cum," he whispered. "Understand?"

She shook her head instantly. "Y-Yes.."

A smirk formed onto his face. "Good, now take this off. We can't ruin it now, can we?" he said, tugging at the material around her body.

She stood for a second, peeling the lingerie off of her body. It dropped to the floor, leaving her naked and exposed in front of him.

His cock twitched in his pants, he wanted to fuck her so badly. He knew deep down it was impossible to do it without any major noise, so he figured to do something small until they could get home and get the real show started.

"Come sit here, this time facing the mirror," he said, moving the chair so it now sat in front of the mirror.

She sat down on his lap, her back now pressing into his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, his print pressing into her butt.

Jean used his hands to spread her legs open, her feet now on his thighs, she was wide open for him and she could see it in the mirror.

"Fuck me.. look at that pretty pussy," he said, spreading her lips apart to see her hot core; arousal pooling from it.

She threw her head back as she felt his fingers circling her clit, bolts of electricity went through her stomach and down her spine almost instantly.

"Jean.." she whimpered, digging her nails into his jacket.

He nibbled on the shell of her ear. "You're such a good girl.. staying so quiet for me.. do you want my fingers in your pussy (Y/N)?" he asked.

She bucked her hips as she felt his fingers go closer to the entrance of her pussy. "Jean, please! Go inside me.." she cried, squeezing her eyes shut.

A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. "As you wish, pretty girl.." he replied, shoving two digits into her hot cavern.

A loud moan came from her mouth, Jean's fingers filled her hole instantly, she was so wet for him. He could almost cum on the spot from just fingering her, her pussy was always so nice and warm, it drew him in whenever he wanted to fuck her.

"Look at the mirror.." he ordered, putting his arm around her waist.

She looked towards her reflection in front of her, Jean's fingers were knuckle deep inside of her cunt, the sight was turning her on; Jean could feel her walls squeezing around him.

"B-Baby.." she moaned, putting her hand near his wrist to draw him deeper inside.

Jean kissed her at her neck, slightly sucking on the skin. "Look at you.. being such a good girl for daddy, take my fucking fingers," he said, quickening the pace.

She covered her mouth to suppress any noises that threatened to escape, she felt her body growing warm, and her vision going white whenever his fingers hit that spot inside of her.

"Yes.. oh fuck.." she whimpered, looking into the reflection. She could see Jean staring right at her, his honey eyes were blown with lust and desire.

"You wanna cum for me? I can feel you getting close.." Jean said, curling his fingers inside her wet cunt. "You're so wet for me.."

She lifted her hips to inch him deeper, her walls were sucking him in; squelching noises came from her pussy as he thrusted his fingers into her without hesitation. Her hand went to his cheek where she turned his face to meet hers, their lips crashing onto one another.

She gasped as finger curled towards her g-spot, he took the opportunity to explore her mouth with his tongue. The kiss was sloppy, salvia formed around her mouth making their kisses smack.

He pulled away, his eyes going down to her puffy lips. "Fuck, you are one pretty sight. I want you to cum all over my fingers," he said, licking his lips.

She whimpered feeling his fingers quicken against her cunt, his thumb playing with her clit to double the pleasure. It was almost becoming too much, her body was twitching and the knot in her stomach was threatening to break any moment.

"J-Jean! I'm close.." she cried, digging her nails into his wrist.

His eyes went to the mirror, she looked so fucking sexy like that. She was crumbling beneath him, her eyes were squeezed shut and her lips were parted with small moans coming from them. He could feel the way her walls fluttered around him, her orgasm was approaching.

He gripped at the skin of her waist, he pulled her tightly against him; his fingers thrusting into her at that same quick pace. Her moans began to fall from her mouth, she could barely form sentences at that point, the pleasure felt so good and she wanted to cum so bad.

"Cum all over my fucking fingers baby.. you can do it," Jean cooed, nibbling on her ear.

She let out a cry of pleasure as her orgasm took over her body, her walls tightening around his fingers; arousal coating them. Her thighs twitched and her breath became uneven from the effects.

"Good girl.."

She smiled to herself from the praise, she could barely stand from all of it. Her body was warm, a layer of sweat was glistening on her skin.

"Suck," he said, holding his fingers near her lips.

She opened her mouth letting his fingers slide in, her slick coating her tongue; the taste filling her mouth.

Jean removed his fingers from her mouth, a trail of saliva connected from her lips to the tips. He rubbed off the spit and tapped her thigh.

"Come on.. let's check out and get out of here," he said, sitting up in the chair.

She stood on wobbly legs, she quickly threw on her clothes and picked up the lingerie which was hanging on the wall. Jean came over to her, pressing a kiss onto her cheek before heading towards the door of the dressing room.

Jean took her hand into his, heading towards the checkout counter. The two stood waiting as the cashier began to scan the item, Jean's hand went to her ass, causing her to look up at him.

"Let me get you another one.. this one is covered in something," the cashier said, smiling a bit.

(Y/N)'s cheeks grew warm, a chuckle coming from Jean. "Weird! We didn't notice that," he replied.

The cashier came over with the same lingerie. "Have a good day," she said, handing over the bag.

(Y/N) smiled and exited the store with Jean, embarrassment written all over her face. "That was.. not good," she said, rubbing the back of her neck.

Jean chuckled, taking her hand into his. "I found it pretty amusing.. but we should finish what we started," he said, smirking.

"Sounds like a plan to me.." she replied, looking up at him.

Jean laughed before taking her towards the car.

#anime #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot x y/n #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #anime fanfic #aot smut

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descendantsramblings · 3 years ago

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Style Headcanons

So basically, I’m a big hater to the way the costume team worked on them. The whole “All Isle kids wear Leather” and “Auradon Kids always look like they’re on their first kid and on the way to the country club” thing drives me crazy. It sorta feels like they made costumes before giving them personalities (The leather on Carlos and Evie feels like it clashes with their personalities. Lonnie’s dresses in the first movie doesn’t fit the personality we see, even though she didn’t have much of a personality until movie two. Audrey dressed like a thirty-four year old mother who just picked up her kid before going to the country club. Ben’s only good outfit was his swim trunks.) So here are some personal headcanons and pictures of what I imagine for them. (I started making them at 1am last night lol)

Villain Kids

Evie

As someone raised to want to be a princess, she wants to dress like how she imagines a princess would.

She loves pastels and is no stranger to pairing pastel blue with a neutral red or bright white.

The only pants she really wears are either athletic shorts or those little flowy elastic shorts, otherwise she’s all skirts.

She’s sorta a prep but not in the same way a character like Audrey would be.

Evie has respect for most aesthetics, even though she doesn’t fully fit just one. However, she hates crocs and those little pastel shorts that white boys wear, she will announce it often.

Wouldn’t be caught dead in neon colors.

owns a blue fur coat (it’s fake fur, obviously)

Carlos

Baby boy is a total softie

You know that one gay little sweater in movie one, that’s where they went right, more of that.

He’s into the soft boy aesthetic and only strays from it for formal wear

loves layering sweaters over button ups

Cuffed jeans, always because ya know, bisexual

Owns a floral button up from Jay, normally he hates patterned button ups but it’s his favorite shirt.

Loves striped sweaters, he owns about 6 variations of them in different colors (all include red, white, or black of course)

Jay

In theory, Jay doesn’t really have one aesthetic, he’s willing to try on just about anything

Most of his clothing was bought by Evie or Carlos, especially his formal wear

The only clothes that Jay will buy for himself is athletic wear

He doesn’t really see the point of buy clothing that he can’t go straight to practice in.

Still has the beanie, but he owns one in just about every color to match it to his outfit.

Listen, we know Jay’s main color is yellow/gold, but why did we always see him with more red/blue in the movie? What type of snow white aesthetic were they trying to give him?

Jay owns a button up that he write on, he refuses to wear it actually buttoned though

Mal

She loves the grunge/alternative aesthetic, she thinks it makes her look more like she belongs to the Isle

She wouldn’t wear skirts until after she and Evie became friends, Evie bought her her first skirt (a purple plaid one) and she fell in love with it

Mal has a whole jewelry box of just chains, both necklaces and ones that attach to clothing

Owns a pair of Demonia Swing-815 boots (black patent) and a pair of Demonia Camel-203 boots (holographic purple)

100% owns one of those studded hot topic belts.

Has a headband with little horns that symbolize her mother’s horns

Instead of the leather half gloves from the movie, she has those little fishnet gloves and covers her hands in rings.

Uma

Her style is similar to Mal’s because if Mal is going to do something, Uma will do it better.

Uma only wore outfits that were super Fem and had skirts until Mal started doing it

Then it was Uma always wearing pants, because of her love for plaid skirts she owns a whole collection of plaid pants

the only jeans she owns are black or dark wash.

Her first ever large purchase was a pair of Doc Marten 1460 Zip Tartan Lace up boots (they’re green, black, and blue plaid)

She and Harry bought matching Doc Marten Jadon platforms (his are more shiny though)

Isn’t as into chains as Mal, more into chockers.

Harry

When the E-boy aesthetic came out, Harry was all over it

Harry definitely has one of those chains with a little lock on it.

I’d like to imagine he has baby gauges

the before mentioned platform doc martens, he definitely treats them like his baby

Even though Harry dresses like an e-boy, he always has his pirate hat on

Definitely wears cloth masks as a fashion piece he actually would wear his in the pandemic though, unlike some people who wore them before but not for safety

Harry is actually really good at graphic liner, he owns a gold, red, and white eyeliner to add color to the outfit if it’s mainly black

gold>silver

Bought plaid pants because Uma did, he want’s to match with his captain

Gil

As we know (maybe you don’t) it’s in the canon that Gil’s mother taught him to sew and he enjoys it.

So Gil doesn't dress in one aesthetic or even close to being in one, he wants to try out everything, both making and wearing them.

He does stick to a monochrome color scheme though, mainly shades of brown with white or black thrown in. Sometimes he adds a little red or yellow though to “honor” Gaston

Most of his clothing is more comfortable than anything

Only owns three pairs of jeans, the rest are different types of pants (he loves corduroys)

Owns a pants chain that harry bought him but he only really wears it when Harry and Uma are wearing one so he won’t feel left out on it.

Dizzy

Baby girl has seen the Isle steal the childhood innocence from people, she dresses in kidcore as a way to keep hers

Her outfits always has at least 4 different colors in it.

No stranger to neon colors, she has a pair of overalls that are neon rainbow and covered in gummy candy and she only wears them with a neon green tee, Evie and Carlos hate this outfits, Jay loves it because of the disappointment it brings to the two fashion fans

Dizzy’s outfits in the movie were colorful obviously but they should have been just more over the top

She loves patterns and has no fear of pattern mixing

definitely owns some funky earrings, clay rings, and statement necklaces

puts beads on her shoe laces, especially on her converse (they were white ones, she drew all over them)

Auradon Kids

Ben

Okay so Ben’s animated and movie outfits were bad, you can’t convince me of anything else

Why was Ben not dressed in the soft boy aesthetic? You’re trying to tell me that Belle’s son wouldn’t be a soft boy?

He has a jean jacket with his father’s beast symbol painted on the back

Absolutely loves graphic crewnecks, often layers them over collared shirts

He and Carlos go shopping together often in their free time

Lover of funky crew socks, ones with paintings, patterns, logos, whatever. But his socks always match

After he and Mal started Dating, he bought a white jean jacket and let her paint it, he wears it all the time even though it didn’t match his original clothing, he bought more clothes in her color scheme to match it

He owns like 6 pairs of high top converse (light blue, yellow, white, navy, black, and Purple after getting the jacket back from Mal)

Chad

Listen, out of everyone he was the closest to how I imagined he should be, that being said, he had a little soft boy thing going on in some movies that I don’t think fit his personality

Polos and button ups are basically all he owns, but he does have some of those pastel simply southern esc graphic tees (Southern people probably know what I’m on about, all the guys who act like Chad at my school have like 5 of them each)

Owns 6 pairs of those horrid little southern boy pastel shorts in different shades of blue (plus 1 white pair)

Will not wear jeans, ever, the only pants he owns are khakis

All over the shirts that have logos embroidered into the shirt over the chest.

Definitely gets asked if he’s on the way to golf/ the country club, the joke is that he is, he has to meet his father there after school

prep.jpg

Audrey

Listen, I’m not an Audrey stan, but they did her so dirty in the first movie

She should have been the stereotypical mean girl outfit wise, I mean, mini skirts, all pastels

Owns a pink teddy coat, and a white one, she actually cares about if they get dirty though, takes good care of them

definitely has a collection of tennis skirts, pairs them with sweaters/crewnecks or blouses that have a slight puff to the sleeve

The type of girl to wear rufflely rompers on her birthday every year, pink, white, or baby blue obviously

loves those tiny shoulder bags

preppy and looks good in it.

cropped polos and tube tops

Jane

This account is a Jane should have been cottage core/ fairy core fan page, her outfits were almost there, just not there, she’s literally a fairy but can’t use magic nor did they let her dress like one, I hate it here

Baby girl loves gingham and floral patterns, some of her dresses are a little more to her mother’s taste than hers (her mother bought them) but as long as it’s a pattern she likes she will wear it.

Cardigans are her best friend, she owns one in multiple shades of pink and blue, plus a white one (all of her clothing fits a pastel pink/blue/white color scheme)

Babydoll dresses her a her favorite style of them (the one I put in the top right corner is what I imagine her birthday dress as)

People try to mockingly ask if she’s on her way to a tea party/picnic (like they do with Chad and the country club) if the answer isn’t actually yes one of her friends still say yes, no one can be rude to her about it

She owns a corset (Evie bought it for her, it made her nervous at first but she loves it)

Owns kitten heels and flats mainly also two pairs of mary janes (in white and blue)

has one of those little pearl purses that aren’t really useful but they’re cute

Lonnie

Last but not least, our funky little lesbian (she is, Jay is just her emotional support queer man) Lonnie, she sticks to the teal, blue, and pink color scheme they gave her in movie one

She mainly wears sweats (or athletic clothing) otherwise it’s graphic tees tucked in (many of them are from the men’s section)

Only wears sneakers, she has places to be but also collects them (also owns 1 pair of pink crocs, Evie tried to burn them)

Carlos and Ben talked her into wearing a collar shirt under a graphic tee once (they bought her a sleeveless button up which she hated at first) and now she does it anytime she wants to look like she put effort into her outfit.

Wears a lot of necklaces and rings (she loves to layer necklaces, she thinks it makes her sweats look less boring)

Uses a mini backpack instead of a purse, easier to carry more things.

Has two pairs of custom painted air forces.

Hates wearing bracelets but always has to have a hair tie on her wrist so they don’t feel empty .

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silverislander · 4 years ago

Note

Don’t know if you’re still taking headcanon but this one is actually semi-canon. The artbook mentions that Dina really liked to add sartorial (basically tailoring) to her clothes especially as a teen. Considering she has an embroidery station on the farm, I like to think of her a the cooler version of that quirky best friend who’s always on Disney (ie. TikTok lol. They also said the reason she doesn’t wear clothes like that in the game is bc it’s “impractical” but let’s be honest do you think a kid who stabbed her herself on a skateboard would care ND? :/

That ask sent ahead of time 😭 I meant to put this link lol

https://silverislander.tumblr.com/post/638221065307537408

wait hang on i LOVE that?? i’ve had some loose thoughts of this before bc uhhhh i have home of sexual brain,, but auagahh she!! if you don’t mind me runnin w this, slight au ahead:

it all started with dina finding an old magazine when she was about 13 and she was absolutely enamored. who are these people and how are they so cool,, she also wants to be cool :0

the apocalypse is weird for being a teenager bc you really don’t get to learn where you fit and how and who you want to be in a normal way?? there’s no time to explore personal expression when you’re stealing clothes bc they just fit and haven’t fallen apart yet

but she got lucky and found a leather jacket that's only one size too big, and she has never felt cooler in her life (talia said she can keep it, she'll grow into it anyways and it is v warm and durable)

learns to sew bc you kind of have to know how in this world lol, clothing repairs are important, but has fun with it bc she can! if her clothes need patching she tries to do it with a cool fabric she found instead of something that technically matches the original material better

when she gets to jackson and has access to materials, she sometimes makes her own clothes too- mostly simple stuff, things she has a hard time finding in her size or in one piece. she also makes a bunch of baby clothes for jj when she’s pregnant w him :’)

cut her hair and grew it out again a bunch of times because fuck it why not? mostly prefers it long though even if it can be a lil impractical. fond of tying it up in weird ways- tying fabric through her braid, finding old hair clips, etc

used to take firefly pendants and keep the chains to make her own necklaces and bracelets and such

every tlou character has smth they seem to collect lol,, joel’s pendants, ellie’s cards, abby’s coins. hers is pins! puts em on her jacket in rotation. can’t have too many at once but she has fun picking which ones to use anyways. i’m not at all projecting here i do not have a jacket that clicks and jingles when i put it on

drew on her jeans, sneakers and shirt cuffs/sleeves, mostly only as a kid but she still has a pair of sneakers with doodles all over them. sometimes asks ellie to contribute too- she thinks it’s a little weird but she’s not gonna turn down the opportunity or anything

#i love her concept art ahhhh #tlou #tlou part 2 #dina tlou #levi.doc #long post

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noladyme · 4 years ago

Text

La Cuervo - Chapter 1

She is used to the biker-life, having grown into a woman in the familiar embrace of SAMCRO. A bad decision and a gun-shot later, she gets whisked off to Santo Padre, and put under the protection of another club. What is supposed to be a short stint in the Mayan headquarters just north of the border to Mexico, turns into something more; when la quervo begins to develop feelings for el angel - and he seems to return them in kind...

TW: violence, blood, drug use, alcohol, assault, smut, fluff, angst

In the spirit of "The Crown Princess of Charming" - though in a different universe (I couldn't screw with Jax and Cat's happy ever after) - this is a story about O.C. Nina and Angel Reyes. It is obviously non-canon, as characters who have passed on on Mayans M.C. are present in it, and others have been excluded completely. Nina is written as a cis-female, but I have tried to keep her race and looks as ambigous as possible. Should you find any of this story offensive.

It was an especially hot day for a bike-ride. The man in front of her on the bike might have been used to these trips, doing them often and in leather no less; but Nina was beginning to feel like a rotisserie chicken under the scorching sun. She was wearing jeans and a jacket over a tank top, knowing from experience that road-rash was especially shitty, when you went down without anything covering your skin. She sighed heavily, and tried to shift in her seat. “We’re almost there, luv’”, Filip called out over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the roars of the engines behind them. “Uh huh…”, Nina replied, and couldn’t help but dream of air-condition and shade. Her backpack was heavy on her shoulders, in spite of the fact that she hadn’t brought much with her; just clothes, and a book or three. Filip patted her thigh comfortingly and sped up, probably as eager as she was to get this ride over with; though she knew that neither of them were looking forward to reaching their end destination.

She hadn’t gone on this trip willingly, but there had been no other option. Her chosen family had made it clear; she needed to disappear, and keep her head down. Going south was the best option for now, as she’d be out of Charming, but not so far away that they wouldn’t be able to reach her if needed. They were trying to keep her safe, even if safety currently meant being roasted alive on the back of a motorcycle, by the southern California sun. Looking back at their companions, both Happy, Tig and T.O. smiled at her. She forced herself to smile back, and was happy she was wearing sunglasses, as she knew the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She was feeling quite a bit overwhelmed by the situation.

Nina used to love riding on the back of Jackson's bike when she was younger, would squeal in excitement when he made sharp turns, and went over bumps. He’d given her the first helmet she’d ever owned. Now, she wore his own helmet. The one he’d not put on, on his last ride. After what had happened – the choices Jax made that had led him to colliding with that truck, and killing himself, on the same highway his father had died on years earlier – bikes were merely a means of transport, and the thrill of rushing down a road on one, was gone. She wasn’t afraid of them by any means, she just didn’t get any joy from them anymore.

Just as she had convinced herself she was literally about to melt together with the seat, Filip finally turned down a gravelly road, and slowed down to a halt. In the distance she saw a group of men on bikes, driving towards the murder of crows she’d travelling with up until now. “You remember what we talked about?”, Filip said. “Yeah, but I don’t get it. Don’t you trust these people?”, Nina asked, and pulled down the scarf she’d used to cover her mouth and nose from road-dust. “We do, and you can as well; but this thing you’ve got yourself caught up in, is complicated”, he replied. “Alvarez, the president and his VP knows everything, but they don’t want to get tangled up in it more than necessary. If you find yourself talking to anyone else, all you say is…”. “I’m in need of a fresh start after a bad break-up”, Nina sneered. “I know. Fucking damsel in distress…”. Filip squeezed her knee. “We’ll be in touch, luv’. Promise… You’ll be back home in Charming before you know it”. “Yeah… home”, Nina muttered, and used his shoulders as support, as she got off the Harley.

Stretching her back, she felt a tap on her butt from a familiar hand. “How are you feeling, princess?”, Happy asked. ”I feel like I did, after that time I won the mechanical bull-riding competition, at Tig’s birthday party”, Nina chuckled, and pulled at her jeans, to get them in place between her thighs. The curly-haired biker in question joined them, with a grin on his face. “Yeah, that was a beautiful!”, he exclaimed. “Well worth the 500 bucks I spent on renting that thing”. “You didn’t pay for that shit”, Filip said. “Screw you, Chibs”, Tig said, with jest in his voice.

Nina took off her sunglasses and helmet; and looked towards the arriving bikers. Two men on road kings – handlebars as high as the sky – led the incoming group. Nina recognized Alvarez right away, having seen him a few times at club parties. The other man she figured was the president of the South California Mayans. Behind them, came a group of bikers, in a caravan formed much like the one she’d ridden in with; arranged by status. She made short eye-contact with a bearded biker somewhere in the middle of the group. He had dark and intense eyes, and his lips twitched into a smile, just before she looked down at the ground. “Stay by the bikes”, Filip said, and squeezed her hand. The gravity of the situation and the dust from the road was beginning to get to her, so she grabbed her inhaler, and took a discrete hit from it; before putting it back in her pocket.

Alvarez and Bishop got off their own bikes, and the bikers behind them halted as well. Filip spread out his arms congenially. “Hola, señors!”, he hollered, and walked up to the other group. Nina cringed at his exclamation. T.O. came up behind her, and patted her shoulder. “Some things never change in this world, kid”, he muttered. “You’d think people would learn… evolve”, she replied. “You think letting brothers in to the club was just gonna magically make Scottie and the rest of them stop being idiot white-boys?”, T.O. chuckled. “Nah. This is as good as it gets. Let’s just hope the next generation does better”. He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Nina. “You’ll let me know if Wendy is in touch, right?”, she asked. “You know we will”. “Thank you…”, she whispered. T.O. nodded solemnly.

“Englishman…”, Alvarez smirked, and reached out his hand to the SAMCRO-president. “Like a bullet to my Scottish heart”, Filip said, and took his hand; pulling him in for a friendly hug. He greeted Bishop in the same manner, and Happy, Tig and T.O. followed suit. “You have our merchandise?”, Bishop said. He was a short and serious looking man, but he didn’t seem as menacing as she’d expect a Mayan president to be. “Straight to the point, then…”, Filip said. “Yes, we brought your merchandise; as much as we could carry. The rest will be here in a van in two days. You get your discount as promised, as payment; and in return…” Bishop glanced towards Nina. “We got you”, he muttered, and patted Filip’s shoulder.

Nina swallowed thickly as the Mayan president approached her. “Obispo Losa. Bishop”, he said, and reached out his hand. “You must be Nina…”. “Just Nina”, she replied quickly, and shook his hand. Bishop nodded. “You’re going with us to Santo Padre. We have a trailer set up at our compound. My prospect uses it normally, but we’ll kick him out for the time being… Just until we figure something else out for you”. Nina felt her cheeks burning. “You don’t need to do that. I don’t want anyone on the street on my account”. “He’ll be fine”, Bishop said quietly. Nina shuddered suddenly, feeling the weight of the situation wash over her. Seeing her expression, Bishop put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be safe with us”. “Ok”, Nina muttered. “Thank you”. A smile ghosted the man’s face, and he nodded towards Filip.

The two groups of bikers finally merged, and greetings were shared, before some bedrolls were spread out on the ground. Guns of different types were hidden in pockets of the fabric, and Nina sighed deeply; looking away, as if doing so would protect her from the truth of what was going on. The bearded biker walked up to Bishop. No longer on his bike, he was strikingly tall, and admittedly handsome as hell. A shorter Mayan, slim and looking a little jumpy; and a friendly looking prospect joined them. “Should the girl be seeing this?”, the tall one muttered to Bishop. “The lady is as trustworthy as they come, amigo”, Filip said. The biker raised a brow at him. “Well, okey dokey, Robert the Bruce”, he said. “You know who Robert the Bruce is?”, the prospect asked. “I got my GED, bro”, the tall one replied. The prospect chuckled quietly. “Cool it, Angel”, Bishop said. “She’s coming with”. “What, she’s like part of the merchandise? Since when do we deal in trafficking?”, the slim one asked, and gave her a confused once over. Nina drew her lips back in a sneer. “Fuck you, asshole!”, she hissed. The biker frowned at her. “That’s Coco to you, ma’”, he grunted. “Who are you?”.

Bishop went to stand next to her, and nodded at Filip once again; as if saying it’s ok, I got this. “This is Nina. Just Nina. She’s the package we’re taking care of for a while”. “La cuervo is the package?”, the biker he’d called Angel said, letting his eyes trace her form with a pleased expression. “Not the kind of package I’d expected”. “Crow or not, we’re setting her up in the trailer at the yard”, Bishop said. “Prospect, you gotta take a hike for a bit”. The prospect sighed, and nodded; making Nina feel guilty beyond belief. “Really, I can…”. “You’re safer at the compound”, Filip muttered quietly.

“Time to say goodbye, man”, Alvarez said. “We saw cops a few miles out. Need to move”. Nina instantly felt her heart fall to her stomach, as the bikers rolled up the bedrolls, and began reloading the bikes, with the Mayans taking over the guns; and from now on, her. She turned to face the men she’d arrived with. “Fuck…”, she sighed. Filip pulled her in for a tight hug. “You’ll be fine, luv’. It’s just until this thing blows over, to keep you out of sight. Treat it like a holiday; enjoy the desert sun, relax…”. He looked towards the Mayans observing them. “And try not to end up losing your panties at another biker-party”. Nina pulled back, and punched his shoulder. “That happened one time!”, she muttered. She noticed Angel and the shorter biker, Coco, smirking at each other, from the corner of her eye. “And we had to kick that prospect’s ass for it. He was never the same”, Tig said, pulling at her arm, to take over from Filip, and give her a hug. “Don’t offer to cook. They might think we sent you to poison them”. “Kiss my ass, Trager”, Nina scowled, and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, kid”. Squeezing Tig tightly, Nina then let herself get enveloped in Happy’s arms. “You got your .38?”, he asked. “In my jacket pocket”, she sighed. “And your inhaler?”, Happy added. “The other pocket. With my cigarettes”, Nina muttered. “Good girl”, Tig said from behind Happy. “Maybe take the time to quit smoking as well; huh, sweetheart?”. She gave him a crooked smile, as he lit up a cigarette himself. “Anyone messes with you, call us. I’ll carve their eyes out”, Happy said, and kissed the top of her head. She noticed a stray tear in his left eye. “Allergies…”, he grunted, and wiped it away quickly. T.O. gave her a quick squeeze as well.

She turned towards Filip again. “I love you, little sister. Say hi to Chucky from us, ok?”, he said. She nodded, and her mood brightened slightly when she was reminded of the fact that there would be at least one person that she knew, where she was going. Even if he was a weird, chronic masturbator, without fingers. Filip kissed the corner of her lips. “Now go… We’ll be in touch if anything comes up, yeah?”. Nina nodded. Filip looked towards Bishop again. “I’m trusting you with someone very special, here”, he said. “You have my word. She’ll be treated like family”, Bishop assured him.

SAMCRO got back on their bikes, after Bishop had handed them an envelope with a wad of cash inside. “Do not let this woman near any tequila, fellas”, Filip said as a parting comment. “Not unless she’s got her underwear superglued on”. “Fuck you, Filip”, Nina smiled embarrassedly. With a final wave at her, they started their engines, and rode off, leaving her behind with a group of strangers she was supposed to trust with her life and secret from now on. She forced her mind to go blank, to avoid tears, and to be able to focus on the ride ahead.

“You ride with the prospect”, Bishop said. “I’d offer you the ride myself, but Marcus and I have another meeting, so we’ll be splitting up about 20 miles from here. Taza will lead the group taking you back to the compound”. He gestured towards a long haired, serious looking biker, with a Vice President patch on his cut. The prospect walked over to her, and reached out his hand. “EZ…”, he said, and smiled congenially. Nina took his hand, and shook it. Angel eyed her with an undefinable expression; when he called out to Bishop. “Yo, jefe. The prospect is a shit driver with a passenger. Maybe she should ride with someone else”. EZ scoffed at him. Bishop narrowed his eyes at Angel, before replying. “Yeah, ok. Nina, go with Coco”. Angel looked disgruntled, but didn’t say anything. Nina put her backpack on, and was about to walk over to Coco, when Bishop grabbed her arm to halt her; giving Angel a look out the corner of his eye. “I’d rethink that superglue, sweetheart”, he said, a slight smile ghosting his face. “I’ll be fine. Word around Charming is I got mace spraying out of my nipples, when my bra comes off”, Nina replied. A murmur of laughter went through the group, and she put on her helmet again, before walking over to her new chauffeur.

Scooting forwards a bit, Coco let her use his shoulders for support, as she got on his bike behind him. “Hold on tight, niña”, he said. “It’s Nina. And I’ll be fine”, she replied, and put her hands on his waist. He grabbed her hands, and pulled her arms all the way around him. “These ain’t no sports bikes”, Angel said, and Coco started up the bike. The roar of the engine made Nina jump slightly, and she noticed Angel had a gleeful smirk on his face. “Told you”, Coco laughed triumphantly.

The bike didn’t have an actual pillion-seat, so to sit comfortably, Nina had to sit closer to Coco than what she was used to with other riders. Angel drove along-side them. The exhaust of the bikes in front of them and the dust from the road hit her nose, and she was about to let go of Coco with one hand, to lift the scarf over her mouth and nose again. He slowed down, and grabbed her wrist. “Told you to hold on!”, he exclaimed. “I know how to ride bitch”, she replied. “Is that what SOA calls it?”, Angel asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of the engines. “I prefer the term riding queen”. “Bullshit”, Coco cried out with a grin on his face. Angel shook his head, and laughed. “Yo, who’s crow you got, ma?”. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Nina said. “Which SAMCRO-member is your old man?”, Angel reiterated, making clear his Coco’s meaning. She shook her head, and didn’t reply. “Just trying to figure out how precious the cargo is", Angel said, and sped up the bike again, letting Coco and her pull in behind him.

Bishop, Alvarez, and a few of the Mayans Nina hadn’t been introduced to yet, pulled off the highway after a few more miles; and Taza took the lead of their caravan. They were silent for the rest of the ride.

---

Santo Padre seemed like worlds away from home. The smells and sounds were so different from what she was used to. Charming was full of middle-class, small-town people who all looked reverently at the patches usually going through town; and everyone knew everyone. Nina noticed some of the residents of Santo Padre nodding at them as they passed; but theirs weren’t the same respectful gazes. The Mayans didn’t have the same history with the area, as SOA had in Charming; and were still building their reputation here. She felt like an alien in a strange world.

They pulled down a smaller road, just outside town, and were met by a large gate; which – after a holler from Taza – was opened by a pretty teenage girl. Coco slowed down to almost a halt, and looked at her. “You’re supposed to be at school, mija”, he said. “Gym-class… But I got cramps”, she replied. “That’s a bad excuse”, Angel said, having pulled up next to them. “What do you know about that? You got a uterus?”, Nina said. Angel frowned at her, but the girl smiled slyly, and waved at her, as Coco continued onto the lot. “That’s my kid”, he said over his shoulder. His voice had a hint of pride to it, and she noticed his back straightened.

They went through a scrapyard, and pulled up at a wooden building – the Mayan clubhouse. Nina got off the bike, and took a second to stretch her legs. She took off her helmet, and looked around; feeling very out of place. Suddenly, a familiar voice caught her attention. “There was a beer-delivery while you were away; but the man was very rude. He says he wants payment up front from now on, and he didn’t even say goodbye”. Nina turned towards the voice, and a smile spread on her face. “Chucky!”, she called out. The balding man lit up, and walked towards her. “Miss…”, he began. “Nina… just Nina. You know that, Chucky!”, she said, and patted his shoulder. “Chibs says hi”. “He’s not here?”, Chucky asked. Nina shook her head. “Then why are you…?”. “It’s a long story. I’m going to hang out here for a while”. EZ gestured for her to follow, and with a final smile at Chucky, she followed the prospect towards a trailer outside the clubhouse. Angel was about to trail behind them, when Taza patted his shoulder; to talk to him.

The trailer was small, and clothes cluttered the table and cot inside. EZ scrambled to pick up his stuff. There was a pile of old novels strewn on the counter. “Sorry…”, he muttered. “If I’d known…”. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you out”, Nina said apologetically. “I’m just a prospect. I do what my president tells me”, EZ smiled crookedly. “It’s fine, really. I’ll stay at our pap’s place while you’re here”. “Your?”, she asked, questioning the plurality in his words. “Yeah. Me and Angel’s. He’s my brother”, EZ replied. Nina dropped her backpack and helmet on the cot. “Is it ok if I leave some of my books here, though?”, he asked, and gestured towards the stack of books on the counter. “Absolutely, as long as you don’t mind me reading some of them”, Nina replied. EZ raised his brows, and seemed pleased at her response.

He found Nina some clean sheets from somewhere, as well as a blanket. “It can get cold out here during the nights”, he said, as she took it with it a thankful smile, and placed it on the cot in the trailer. “This far south?”, she asked. “Yeah, it varies. Some nights I have to wear two sweaters and socks; other nights, it’s like sleeping in an aluminum can over a lit stove”. He knocked the roof slightly, letting the sound of metal fill the tiny space.

There was a roar of laughter from outside, as Angel and Coco shared some inside joke. “So, is your brother your sponsor?”. “He was. Took care of me, and got me in to the club, after I got out of jail. I was having kind of a hard time, and he helped me out… But Bishop took over, after some statute changes…”, he said, before halting himself. “… Which is stuff you shouldn’t even know about. Does SOA let their old ladies in on club business in Charming?”. She chuckled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t know".

“You just a croweater then?”. Angel had appeared in the door, and Nina jolted at the sudden interruption. “Sorry… Bishop is back. He wants to talk to you in his office”. “What does he need me for?”, EZ asked. “Not you. Her”, Angel said. He stepped inside the trailer, his head almost hitting the ceiling of it; and picked up the helmet on the cot. “Your helmet looks worn… Doesn’t fit your head either. It’s not safe”. Nina felt bile rise in her throat, and yanked it out of his hands. “Don’t touch it”, she hissed. She held the helmet protectively in her arms. Angel furrowed his brows at her, and licked his lips, as if he was about to say something. “Sorry… It’s an heirloom”. “Ok…”, Angel said. “Didn’t mean to overstep”. EZ cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable at the tension of the situation. “Don’t want to keep the prez waiting”, he said.

All three of them stepped out of the trailer, and EZ went ahead of Angel and her, as they walked towards the clubhouse. “How do you know about the way a club runs? Your old man lets you in on stuff like that?”, Angel asked. “Why do you keep asking about my old man?”, Nina said. Angel smirked. “So, you do have an old man”. Nina took a second to think. She wasn’t in Santo Padre for a long time; but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a good time. Besides, Angel didn’t seem like a long-time kind of guy. “No”, she said, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. His smile widened. “Good to know”.

---

The Mayan clubhouse had similar decorations to the ones in SAMCRO’s clubhouse; though clearly inspired by their proud Mexican and latinx roots. Nina instantly felt at home there, surrounded by leather-clad men, and inhaling the scent of motor-oil and beer.

Bishop was seated by a table, and spread out his arms to greet her, as she entered with Angel. “Step into my office”, he said, and gestured towards a chair opposite him. Nina sat down, and Chucky appeared from somewhere, planting a mug of coffee in front of her. “Black as sin…”, he smiled. “Just the way I like it. Thanks, Chuck”, she said. Chucky scuttered off, leaving them to it. Alvarez hadn’t come back with Bishop, but Nina knew not to comment on it.

Bishop took a sip of his beer, while Angel settled on a bar-stool, taking the cold one EZ handed him from behind the counter. Most of the charter seemed to be scattered throughout the room. “I’m sure you understand why we’re not having this conversation in templo. We don’t allow women at the table, and even if you weren’t one, you’re not wearing a patch”. Nina nodded solemnly. “I understand”, she said. Bishop gave her a short smile. “Here’s the deal. SAMCRO is paying us to look after you, while you stay in Santo Padre for a while”. “She’s the package we’re guarding?”, a bald Mayan asked. “Not what I expected”. He leered at her. Bishop sent him a hard look. “Nina left Charming to… start new”, he said, and looked meaningfully at her. “Right?”. “Yeah… I won’t be staying long”, she said. Angel chewed his lip, and looked quizzically at her. “Why does she need us, though?”. “She is used to an MC having her back. It’s just for comfort and peace of mind for SOA”, Bishop said.

Taza sat down next to Bishop. “You’re not familiar with the area, so you should stay on the lot. Only leave if you have someone with you”, he said. Nina knew what he was really saying; that she was more or less on lockdown, and if she did leave the compound, it needed to be with a patch. It wasn’t anything new. She’d gone into lockdown with SAMCRO before; though on a club-wide basis. “It’s your house… Your rules”, she said. “Good”, Bishop said. “You’re welcome to the facilities here, and if there’s anything you need, you let us know”. “The prospect is used to going on tampon-runs”, Coco grinned from his own stool by the bar. His daughter, who was standing behind him, hit him over the shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything you can’t trust these idiots with. I’m Letty… Leticia”, she said. “Control your kid, Coco”, Bishop said, but smiled at the teenager none the less. “We expect you to pull your weight around here. Chibs tells me you have experience behind a bar, and that you would sometimes help Chucky out in the office, back when their auto-shop was still running. You can do the same with the scrapyard. I trust I don’t need to tell you about keeping your nose out of our other business”. Nina eyed the pack of smokes on the table, and Bishop pushed it towards her. “Anything you need”, she replied, and took a cigarette. “Anything?”, the bald biker neck smirked. Angel got on his feet, and smacked him over the head. “Stop being a creep, Creeper”, he said, and walked over to light her cigarette. He kept eye-contact with her, while she took in her first lungful of smoke, and let a smile ghost his face, before stepping back again. Nina stifled a smile, and felt a rush of blood to her head; as well as other parts of her, that were even more intriguing.

Bishop got on his feet. “Templo. We got some shit to talk about”, he said. “How did things go with Palo? He know who did in his cousin yet?”, Creeper asked. Taza stared daggers at him. “At the table, fuckhead”. The Mayans all went towards a beautifully ornate door, leaving Nina with EZ, Letty, and Chucky. Angel sent her a final look, and shot her a sly smile before closing the door behind him.

---

While EZ helped out Letty with what looked like some homework, Chucky was running in and out of the clubhouse, lugging cases of beer and soda. Nina slipped behind the bar to help him fill the fridges. “You don’t have to do that”, Chucky said. “I need to do something to pass the time”, she replied.

As they worked in silence, she noticed Chucky looking at her occasionally, as if wanting to say something, but not quite having the courage. “Ask…”, she said. “It’s not my place”, he said. “Why not? We’re friends, right?”, Nina smiled. “I’m happy you’re here, Chucky. It would have sucked not having even one familiar face around”. Chucky lit up. “We’re friends?”. “Of course we are. In spite of the fact that you used to tell Jax on me, whenever I was doing anything he might not like”. Chuck blushed. “He asked me to keep an eye on you when he wasn’t around”. “Yeah… Just keeping you safe, darlin’”, Nina imitated the former president of SAMCRO. Chucky smiled. “He was a good man”, he said. “I wish he’d believed that about himself”, she sighed. “So… ask”. Closing the fridge, Chucky looked at her hesitantly. “Why did they bring you here? Did they lose you in a bet, like me?”. “No… nothing like that”. “Then why?”. Struggling with opening a bottle of soda for Letty, who’d stepped over to the bar with EZ. Nina took it from him, and opened it, before giving it to the girl. “I know Chibs took over from Jax, both as president, but also as your…”. “Yeah…”, Nina sighed. “Why would he let you out of his sight?”.

EZ accepted a bottle himself, and was unsuccessful in pretending like he wasn’t listening in on the conversation. “I needed a fresh start. Wanted to get out of Charming for a while”, Nina said. Her cheeks were beginning to burn. “Why? Did something happen?”. Nina’s eyes travelled the room, finding it hard to reply. “Bad breakup…”, she said, almost like a line from a manuscript. “Chibs lets you date?”, Chucky said. “Happy lets you date?”. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t mentioned Tig. The man had gifted her a 6-pack and a case of condoms for every birthday, since the day she turned 18. “I’m a grown ass woman, Chuck”, she almost giggled. “Yeah, but Jax…”, Chucky began. “Isn’t around anymore”, she replied shortly, feeling immediately guilty. “I’m sorry… It’s still a sore subject”. “I accept that”, Chuck said, his eyes letting her know she was forgiven for her tone.

Nina smiled softly, and went to open another box of beer.

---

#angel reyes #angel reyes x oc #ez reyes #coco cruz #bishop losa #mayans mc #angel reyes fic #mayans mc fic

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seaweedbrain404 · 4 years ago

Text

Wolfstar Au! : Parties and Morning Regrets

read it on ao3

pt2

Parties weren’t exactly Remus’ scene. It’s not that he hated the loud noise, smelly sweaty drunk people who constantly bumped into him or the inevitable hangover he would be most certainly having the next day. Except, he did hate all of those things, so why was he there?

The answer was simple: Lily Evans. Aka his best friend and flatmate. She had wanted to go, Remus couldn’t remember why. Maybe it was for a birthday? or a promotion? He couldn’t recall. Although that might’ve been the effects of the copious amounts of alcohol he had managed to consume in the past few hours. Remus wasn’t a light weight by any means so it really was copious amounts.

Drunk and a little annoyed because Lily had ditched him at some point and now he couldn’t find her, Remus made his way to the corner of the room where he could hopefully be left alone. He’d also have to keep an eye out for her, in case she needed help or in case she wanted to leave. He doubted any of those things, vaguely remembering that Lily wanted to go to the party to get laid. Which was fair.

Remus was propped up against the wall, drink in hand when it all went downhill. He only just began to entertaining the idea of either finding Lily and telling her he was going him or getting laid himself. He preferred the latter but didn’t have much of a say in it when someone came up next to him.

“Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ brain short circuited when he heard the voice. This was proof the universe hated him. As if the accident that happened shortly after he and Lily had moved to New York had been any indication of the universe having it out for him.

“What?” He managed to sound vaguely disinterested as his gaz met the other person’s.

Sirius Black looked the same as he did when they were 17. Same stupid leather jacket and everything. It made Remus want to groan because it was so stupid, he thought he’d left all of this back in England. Clearly he was about to be proven wrong.

Sirius shrunk back at the tone. He wasn’t used to Remus being so cold and bitter. Remus didn’t care though, Sirius had hurt him and he had some nerve coming up to him again.

“Just thought I’d say hi”

“Well, hi”

“Mmm...” Sirius paused for a moment, “how have you been?”

“Grand”

“Oh.... did you get into that school you wanted?” Sirius tried again and Remus almost felt bad for him.

If Remus wasn’t intoxicated, he would’ve told Sirius to go away. Instead he answered the question. “No, got my second choice though”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be” Remus didn’t want the pity Sirius was so clearly trying to offer. He had gotten over himself, it was years ago that he got rejected from his first school of choice and his second one was still really good. Then a thought occurred to him, “why are you in New York?”

“Oh!” Sirius seemed surprised by the question, Remus couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t been exactly pleasant up until this point. “Business opportunity for my dad’s firm, he wanted me to check it out and James already lived close enough to here”

Of course, still doing your family’s bidding when we both know you hate it, Remus had to stop himself from saying. Instead, he settled on a nod and took a sip of the drink in his hand.

“What about you?” He asked timidly.

Remus wasn’t used to Sirius being timid. Sirius had always been loud, demanding attention and boisterous. Maybe it was the party or maybe it was seeing Remus after so long that knocked the wind out of him just like it did to Remus. Hence why he was acting like a bit of a dick.

“Lily and I both wanted out”

That was all there was to it. Lily and Remus had been best friends and grew up together in a small town just off the coast of England. It horribly small minded and suffocating. It only got worse when Remus came out. Lily wanted to go to New York to get away from her sister and start a small bakery. For Remus, she was the ideal ticket out of there. He had been hesitant at first, up until he tried to speak to his father for more than ten minutes at a time. Then he was certain he had to leave. His mum wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if he was unhappy and if Lyall couldn’t get his shit together without him, well that wasn’t his problem anymore.

“I don’t blame you” came Sirius’ answer. “Compared to that shithole, New York is a breath of fresh air”

Remus chuckled at that, mood lightening. Was it the alcohol or was it him actually missing Sirius? He’d blame it on the alcohol.

“How is Lily?”

“She’s good, snogging some bloke right now I think” Remus shrugged.

“Good for her” Sirius nodded and Remus swore he could see the other glance down at his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” Remus knew he was asking a very dangerous question but his drunken mind pushed for it.

Clearly, Sirius was drunk enough to look at Remus and smile and as he said, “kissing you”

“Then do it”

Remus said this without thinking of the consequences. A very un-Remus thing to do.

Sirius obeyed though, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. Remus forgot what it was like to kiss Sirius. He could taste the alcohol, and the same cigarettes as when they were teenagers. The new taste was coffee, a welcome addition to what Remus already knew and remembered.

He suddenly wondered if anything else was the same. Throwing caution to the wind, Remus gently bit down on Sirius’ lip and in turn, Sirius parted his lips. This allowed Remus to slip his tongue in, his brain short circuiting again.

He pulled away breathless and Sirius grabbed his hand. “Let’s get out of here”

Remus let himself be dragged away from the corner and outside. He didn’t bother asking where until Sirius started hailing a cab. That’s when the alarms bells sounded.

“No! let’s- no not the cab... I’ll- I’ll get sick” This was of course a lie. Remus knew this and if Sirius remembered how good Remus’ drinking health was, then he knew it was a lie too. He didn’t say anything though. Maybe it was the panic in his fear-stricken eyes that made Sirius back down.

Remus felt stupid, not wanting to take the cab but it made perfect sense in his head. One late night coming home from work, he had taken a cab and got in a terrible accident. An accident that left violent scars all over his right side. An accident that made him quit his job and not want to get into a car ever again.

Despite all this, Sirius, bloody Sirius who was always so understanding even while drunk, squeezed Remus’ hand and started walking.

Remus decided he didn’t feel bad for not taking the cab. It wasn’t a long walk to where Sirius was currently staying. It was a nice, fancy and very expensive hotel. He instantly felt out of place.

Sirius didn’t seem to notice though. He also didn’t notice the receptionist giving him a funny look. A look which Remus knew too well and made him feel more than a little insecure. If it wasn’t for the alcohol coursing through his system, he would’ve gone home.

Fortunately, Remus didn’t get the chance to dwell of any of this simply because the second they were in the lift, Sirius was pressing him against the wall. All the kissing made Remus feel a bit dizzy. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been in relationships or had one night stands after Sirius. It was more the fact that it was Sirius.

Somehow (Remus can’t recall the details) they ended up in Sirius’ hotel room. Remus would later regret the events that took place that night for a while.

The next morning, Remus woke up naked and hungry. Not a great combination. He felt a hand draped over his waist, pulling him closer.

“Morning” Came Sirius’ sleepy voice.

Shit

Remus pushed Sirius away, establishing a small distance between them. He was about to go for his phone when it started ringing, this caused Sirius to groan and cover his ears.

Remus pick up, it was Lily. “Hi? what’s up?”

“Remus John Lupin”

“That’s my name?”

“Tonight was my turn”

Right. This meant that she didn’t have the keys to their apartment and that Remus did.

“Sorry”

“Just come home, quickly? You’ll never guess who i slept with last night”

“I’m intrigued”

“Then hurry up! I’m going to be catch pneumonia”

“Alright how does i’m-sorry-for-leaving-you-out-in-the-cold-coffee sound?”

“I suppose I could forgive you” Remus could practically hear the smile in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes, I’m on my way”

“Be safe, love you”

“Love you too”

When Remus hung up and looked over at Sirius, his brain short circuited for the third time since they’d met last night. Sirius Black was beautiful in the morning, he was breathtaking every time of day but he was especially beautiful in the mornings. With his shoulder length black hair, sharp cheekbones, pale skin and grey eyes, he always looked melancholy. Even when he was smiling. Remus supposed there was a sort of tragic look about Sirius that drew a lot of people in. It didn’t help that Remus’ favourite colour used to be grey.

“Who was it?” Sirius’ voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Lily. I should- I really have to go” When Remus said this, Sirius’ face fell.

“Can I drive you home?”

Remus climbed out of bed and stopped, he was in the middle of pulling his jeans back on. “No, it’s not too far, I’ll walk”

Sirius started getting out of bed too. “At least let me walk you then” He walked over to the suitcase and pulled out his own clothes, getting dressed as well.

“Fine but I have to stop for coffee” Remus replied, not being able to come up with a good enough excuse to ditch him. He finished buttoning up his shirt and pulled the sweater he wore last night over his head. It smelled like bad beer and cheap vodka. He was in desperate need of a shower the second he got home.

They walked in silence, from the room to the lift and outside in complete silence until Sirius spoke up again. “How are you?” he asked.

Remus looked at him, a frown quickly taking over his features. He remembered the sincere tone and genuine look in Sirius’ eyes from the time his mum passed away, sometime in fifth year. “You don’t get to ask that”

“Oh... I’m sorry”

“I know you are”

“You’re different” Sirius said, sounding a little uncertain.

“People are allowed to change Sirius” Remus’ tone was cold. He was in no mood for this, he just wanted to get the coffee and get home as quickly as possible.

Sirius soldiered on, as if Remus hadn’t said a thing. “You’re taller.... your hair is longer and curlier, you have plasters all over your fingers and scars, the scars are new”

Remus’ shoulders tensed at that. Who was Sirius to be saying all these things? And more importantly, why was he saying all this. It’s not like Remus didn’t know that he changed since they were 17. It had been years.

“Am I allowed to ask about the scars?”

“I got into an accident”

“How bad was it?”

“No, you’re not allowed to ask that”

“Right” It was clear Sirius was grasping at straws at this point, anything to keep the conversation going. “The plasters?”

“I work in a bakery”

“As if that explains it” Sirius huffed, a lot more Sirius-like than whatever he was like before. That was the Sirius he remembered. “What about me?

“What about you?”

“Have I changed?”

Remus thought for a moment. He wanted to say no, everything about Sirius was the same; he looked the same and his clothes were also the same. Another thing that didn’t change was him clearly being under his parents’ thumb. Yet, there was something about Sirius that was very un-Sirius and Remus couldn’t place what.

“No” He replied, ducking into a coffee shop to avoid the conversation from progressing further.

After buying three coffees, the two men were off again. They walked in silence for about five seconds before Sirius spoke up again.

“Why are you being like this?”

“I don’t know what you mean” Lie. Remus knew exactly what he meant but he refused to acknowledge it. Besides, the walk was starting to do a number on his hip and he had to slow down.

Sirius frowned at him. “Being all.....” he gestured vaguely with his hands, he had never been good with words, despite going to a private boarding school (he and Lily were scholarship students). Remus thought it was ironic, you’d think someone that rich would be at least a little more eloquent.

“You’re being distant”

“No offense but I’m not usually all cuddly and sweet with one night stands, I’m sorry”

Unfortunately it seemed that Sirius had taken offense to being called just a one night stand because he took a sip of his coffee and stuff a hand in his jacket.

“Asshole” Sirius mumbled.

“Sure, I’m the asshole”

Hurt flashed across Sirius’ face. “That’s not fair”

“I didnt say it was”

Sirius scowled even further and Remus just smiled. “I’m trying to be nice, I don’t get why you’re still being so mean”

Remus looked down, suddenly feeling really bad. “Sorry”

“Can we just talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about” Remus sighed. “You haven’t changed, your parents still dictate your life and by the looks of it, you’ve stopped rebelling”

Now it’s Sirius’ turn to look down. Remus had his a sore spot, that much was clear.

Neither said anything for the rest of the walk, until Remus started limping enough for Sirius to notice.

“Are you okay?” Concern filled his pretty grey eyes.

“I told you- the accident... it’s not too far now, I’ll be okay”

Sirius looked unconvinced but didn’t say anything else. He was probably too scared that Remus would snap at him again.

The silence resumed til they saw Lily, who ran up and pulled Remus into a death grip hug when she saw him, causing him to nearly drop the two coffees he was holding.

“What took so long?” She let go of him, studying his face, “don’t tell me you walked all the way here, you dolt”

“That would be lying though” Remus quipped with a smile.

Lily shook her head. “Idiot” she muttered, taking the coffee cups from Remus as he fished out the keys to let them inside.

Lily’s gaze travelled between Sirius and Remus, silently giving Remus the ‘oh god you slept with him didn’t you’ look. “I’ll go on ahead”

Once Lily disappeared upstairs, Sirius opened his mouth to say something but Remus stopped him with a hand in the air.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” He asked, not sure if he was going to regret this later or not.

Sirius nodded, “Yeah, yeah... if that’s okay with you”

Remus held the door open. He could give this a chance, maybe it wouldn’t end as bad as it did when they were 17. He had changed and maybe, somewhere deeper so had Sirius. For once, Remus let himself hope.

“You wanna know why I stopped rebelling?”

Remus hummed in response.

“I didn’t have anything left to fight for, now I might” with small smile he ducked into the apartment building.

Remus followed in after a moment. Thinking about how this could be finally something good. Maybe the universe doesn’t hate him as much as he thought it did. Maybe the universe was trying to shove him in the right direction again.

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bold-writing · 4 years ago

Text

The One With Whiskey Eyes || 7 || Simplicity in Normalcy

Warnings: Swearing.

Words: 3700+

Previous || Next

~7~

Iris tried to support the basket that was draped over one of her arms; the weight of her groceries was making her wish that she had decided to get a cart that she could push instead. Trying to take some of the weight off, she leaned the basket against her hip as she looked at the display of crackers. A snack of cheese and crackers was on her list of cravings at the moment, and she was really hoping to get home quickly. The weather report was calling for thunderstorms and Iris did not want to worry about running home through a downpour while hauling bags of food.

Finally selecting a slightly pricy brand of vegetable crackers, Iris turned to head further down the aisle for the coffee and tea section—she was so stocked up on tea that she was desperate to get something different and Barry told her he liked sweet coffee so she was planning to get some just in case he spent the night again.

The thought of having him over caused a blush to rise to her cheeks, so Iris hurried down to the coffee section and looked over the shelves to try and find the tin of coffee that she had bought in the past. A huffing sigh passed her lips when she noticed that it had been raised up to the top two shelves, making it impossible for her to reach even when on her tip toes.

Taking a step back for a better reading on the height difference, she only ended with another sigh. It was probably just out of reach of her fingers if she stretched.

“Damn.”

“You look like you could use a hand, Sweetie.”

Gasping in surprise and turning quickly, Iris nearly dropped her basket as the words that were across her back were spoken in a deep, accented voice—was that a Southern accent?—that was shockingly familiar. A hand darted out to catch the basket as it slipped precariously on her arm, nearly losing some of its contents. Iris’s attention lifted to the familiar face of her soulmate, but one brief glance confirmed her assumption that this was not Barry.

A pair of slightly worn black jeans and a soft looking blue shirt was exposed through an open leather jacket, startling Iris into leaning back slightly. Having the image of Barry still quite fresh in her mind, she hadn’t really been prepared for the appearance of another personality. This one was more casual, less focused on fashionable clothing while still looking extremely attractive in what he was wearing.

“Wow, hello,” Iris blurted out before she could think of her words. Her cheeks immediately grew hot as she realized what had come out of her mouth, while the man before her laughed heartily, the laugh lines on his face more prominent than they had been with Barry. Iris immediately pushed the thought of Barry aside, feeling bad that she was thinking of him while another soulmate was standing in front of her now.

“Hello to you, too, little one. So, need a hand?” he motioned to the coffee tin that she had been stretched for a minute ago, causing Iris’s eyes to finally flick away from him as she glanced back to the shelves.

“Oh…yes, please.” Ducking her head in embarrassment, the man deeply chuckled before he stepped up beside her and easily grabbed the tin and offered it to her slowly, as though he didn’t want to startle her.

“Iris,” he began carefully, taking the encounter very slowly. Did she look like a frightened animal? Those whiskey eyes finally looked up at him, the soft rose in her usually pale cheeks making his smile grow. “I believe I have you at a disadvantage. My name’s Luke,” he introduced, holding his hand out to her. Iris dropped the tin into her basket and reached out to shake his hand as a timid smile touched her lips.

“Nice to meet you, Luke.”

“That looks heavy,” he commented as he motioned to the basket. “Give it here, Sweetie. Barry’ll have my hide if I make you carry that.” Surprise must have shown on her face, because another laugh sounded from him as he gently extracted the basket from her hold. “He makes sure we all stay in line, and he’s absolutely smitten with you.”

He must have enjoyed watching Iris blush because he was on a roll at this point. “Well, do I need to bring up that you were following me or is this a coincidence?” Iris retorted, courage in her words showing more confidence than she actually felt.

Luke, however, seemed greatly amused with her comment and the smile on his face grew. “Rest assured, Sweetie, this is a complete coincidence.” Luke motioned behind, turning the small woman’s attention over to where there was a shopping cart piled with food. “I haven’t done the groceries for a while, so I was forced out today.”

Amusement flittered across Iris’s face as she took stock of the cart. There was such a mixture of things that it was easy to tell it was for many different people’s preferences. “Wow, that’s a lot of candy,” she commented offhand, noticing the amount of chocolate and sugary goods that were piled at the foot of the cart.

Luke rubbed the back of his buzzed head bashfully as he nodded in agreement. “I wasn’t given a list, so I kinda just grabbed everything that I’ve seen in the place before. Hedwig’s gunna be running around like a lunatic, though, so Patricia’s gunna kill me when she finds out I bought all this.” The introduction of two new names made Iris look back at him with shining eyes, filled with curiosity.

“Hedwig and Patricia?” she repeated. The way he spoke about them made Iris all the more curious about the many different personalities within this body. Hedwig sounded like he was much younger than Barry or Luke, and the fact that Patricia was distinctly female was another interesting thought.

“Yea, they’re quite the pair. You’ll understand when you meet them,” he dodged, looking mildly worried that he had said more than he should. “So, are we finished or do I need to rescue anything else from top shelves for you?” he teased instead, walking them over to the cart that he had stocked full.

“Nope, coffee was the last thing on my list,” she answered easily. She technically needed more, but she never bought too much at once since she always carried it home. “What about you? As someone as small as me, I can make it easier to get things from the bottom shelf.”

“Aren’t you clever today? I was just gunna make a stop in the cereal aisle, then I’m off.” Placing her basket of food in the top section of the cart, Luke began to push it as Iris stuttered behind him. Was he actually holding her groceries hostage? “You did offer your help. For all I know, Hedwig’s cereal is on the bottom shelf!”

“You’re terrible,” she stuttered, hurrying to catch up to him.

Admittedly, Iris had researched Dissociative Identity Disorder after she had found Dr. Fletcher’s articles and essays on the topic. However, she hadn’t been sure what to expect when it came down to actually meeting someone who had many identities for one body; especially now that she knew for certain that Kevin’s body housed men, woman and possibly children. Barry and Luke were already drastically different, so it made her a mix of excited and nervous to meet the other soulmates that she was sure was ten-fold what normal people felt when meeting their soulmates.

This was one face, twenty-three different ways.

The twenty-forth mark hadn’t developed any further since it first appeared, stuck as a blurry one-word mark that looked like a black smudge beneath her collarbone. While thinking of the mark, Iris’s hand came to rub over the spot subconsciously.

“Hey, you alright?”

Luke’s sudden question drew Iris from her thoughts as she looked up at the concerned blue eyes that were level with hers. She’d stopped walking mid-aisle and was staring into space, prompting Luke to turn around and bend in front of her so they were the same height. “Yea, sorry,” she mumbled out while dropping her hand from the mark. “Just got lost in my thoughts for a second; I used to worry that I was…broken, or there was some kind of mistake with my marks and I would never actually meet any of my soulmates. Now, in little more than a week, I’ve met two of you and learned the truth of why I have so many. It’s very…”

“Overwhelming?” Luke supplied with a soft look of understanding in his eyes; seeing that look relieved the tension that had built in Iris as her thoughts progressed.

“Yea,” she breathed. “But I am happy, so that definitely makes it worth it.”

Luke’s expression immediately brightened before he was reaching for Iris’s hand, tugging her after him as he made for the cereal aisle. Iris went silently this time, her expression growing soft as Luke began to rant about how much he hated when he was the one who had to go and get groceries. She listened closely the entire time, wanting to absorb all of the information that she could about the alters.

“And Barry, love the guy, but he is so picky,” he groaned, snatching box of Lucky Charms—even though it was on the bottom shelf and he had to bend to get it. Iris was half surprised that he hadn’t followed through and made her get anything that was lower on the shelves.

“He didn’t seem picky when I was with him,” she admitted, “But I’m not the one who’s lived with him so long,” she added a moment later, absentmindedly adjusting some of the items on the shelves near her—something she’d picked up from all of her years of retail.

“Lucky you,” Luke retorted with a snort, glancing up and down the aisle as though to make sure that he wasn’t forgetting anything.

“What about you? If I asked Barry, would he say you were picky?” Iris asked in return, pulling at her sleeves as she glanced back to him. With Barry, she had allowed herself to relax when it came to her marks, but that was in her home. Now, in an open place, it was very different. She wasn’t wearing gloves, so it made things very different about her comfort level and who was looking at the mark on the back of her hand.

Even if people thought it was her only one, there were still unmarked out there who would be violent or rude toward those with marks.

Luke didn’t seem to notice the movements, beginning to push the cart—and her basket—toward the cash registers. “Oh, I’ll eat anything,” he admitted with a broad grin. “Patricia’s happy about that, at least when it’s good food; isn’t always happy that I’ll go for just about any junk food out there.”

“I don’t blame her,” Iris admitted. “Please tell me you don’t eat fast-food.”

Turning to look at him with a slightly desperate look in her eyes, Luke opened his mouth as though to deny it, but then snapped his jaw shut and looked away sheepishly. Iris’s eyebrow quirked up as she paused at the end of the aisle, while stepping aside as an older woman squeezed past them to get into the cereal section.

“Only sometimes,” he finally admitted quietly, peaking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Mhm,” Iris hummed in understanding, though still sounding doubtful. “Barry might be picky but you’re junky,” she blamed, pointing at him while turning the corner to continue on without him. Luke’s jaw dropped as she walked away, somehow not having expected her to actually tease him. As someone who had run off when Barry first met her, he hadn’t thought she would be so comfortable with the rest of them right off the bat.

Following after her, he fought a smile as he saw a flash of her true colours. She was definitely a quiet person and much more timid than either him or Barry, but there was a bold streak within her that he definitely wanted to see more often.

Glancing down at the basket of her things that was still sitting at the front of his cart, Luke wondered if that was really enough for her. She’d told Barry that she didn’t have any food left in her apartment, and this sure as hell didn’t seem like enough to fill a kitchen. Knowing as little about her as he did, he could definitely say she was a practical person, so she was probably only getting enough to get by that she could manage to carry.

He barely knew her, she was very new to having people to rely on, so he wouldn’t say anything about her meager shopping. There was a specific way she was used to doing things. Barry had said that she may seem underweight, but she was actually just really skinny; her arm was rather muscular beneath the skin. Looking at her, he found it somewhat hard to believe, but Barry wasn’t known to lie. Sometimes, he was brutally honest.

When he turned the corner to find Iris, she was standing in front of a display of flowers that were already prepared in individual bouquets. Her fingers traced over the petals of one, feeling the silky texture as she looked over the pale violet of the bloom. He didn’t even know what the flower was, looked like some kind of daisy, but it brought a smile to Iris’s lips as she took in the details and feel of the delicate plant.

“Any chance your favourite flower is an Iris?” he asked as he came up behind her, leaning over her shoulder to see the flower arrangement better.

The woman in question laughed, releasing the bloom from between her fingers. “No, I think those flowers look rather strange, if I’m being honest. I used to like lilies most when I was younger, but then I successfully grew marigolds and they kinda got a special place in my heart.”

“Aw, still room for the rest of us, I hope,” he teased, leaning on the handle of the cart.

Iris’s cheeks flushed at the question while she looked back at him over her shoulder; even leaning as he was he still had a couple of inches on her. “No one else is so close to me,” she answered softly, looking up at him with those whiskey eyes. It damn near melted his heart. “I was made your soulmate for a reason. Maybe that’s why my heart’s been kept empty for so long; to provide more room for more people in my future.”

Luke’s expression softened as he just watched her for a moment. There wasn’t heartbreak or sadness in her expression as she spoke of her lack of family, or love in her life, but it still pained him to know that she’d been alone for so long. Barry had chosen not to share all that he knew with everyone, saying that it was her story to tell. And in time, when she met them, she would tell them, too. So, Luke only knew basics, but it was easy to know that someone with her timidity and fear had been through hell. Abused by parents, as Fletcher had suspected, was something they were aware could leave serious damage behind.

Reaching out for her, Luke wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew in her against his chest. Iris looked surprised at the suddenness of the action, her head tipped back to look him in the eye. “Sweetheart, I promise your heart will never be empty again.”

Her somber expression faded with a smile as she leaned into him just slightly, accepting his embrace. “I’m coming to understand that truth.”

Giving her another tight squeeze, pulling her in close to his chest as her tiny form nearly disappeared into his leather jacket. “So, let’s go check out,” he offered instead, not one to stick to serious topics if he could help it.

Nodding in agreement, Iris stepped reluctantly away from him.

Luke and Barry may have shared a body, but they definitely were different people. Even their smell was different, and she knew that it wasn’t because of differing brands of cologne. Barry had smelled clean, like crisp clothing and a fresh shower. Luke had more of a musky smell to him, like leather and wood-smoke. It was an interesting comparison, yet it suited their personalities perfectly as well.

Luke didn’t let her wonder too far away from him, instead he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and drew her in closer to his side as he pushed the cart with one hand. Even though a blush warmed Iris’s cheeks, she was relieved to be near. Being with to a soulmate was the greatest comfort she could ever have; that anyone could have.

“You stay close to me, Sweetie—you’re so tiny someone could carry you away from me.” Somehow, Iris wasn’t surprised that he combined a tease with a protective action and statement. Even having only been around him for a few minutes, the backwards complement/tease was right up his alley.

“I haven’t blown away by wind yet, so I’m sure I’ll be okay,” Iris teased back. The laugh that she received in response warmed her heart and had a smile blooming across her face.

Luke smirked down at her and squeezed her shoulders as he parroted, “Yet.”

“Oh, shush you,” she laughed, nudging his side with her elbow as she turned her attention ahead of them to see which of the check-out lanes was free, or almost free. “Come on, so I can have my groceries back.”

“I dunno, those crackers are calling to me, I might have to-”

Before he could even grab them from the basket, Iris’s small hand snapped up and slapped the back of his with surprising force. He jerked back and stopped walking as he looked down at the small woman in shock—the back of his hand actually stung slightly with the suddenness of her slap, and the force behind it. Her cheeks were still flushed but there was a faint upturn to her lips that made her look like she was smirking coyly.

“No touching my crackers.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Luke was definitely looking forward to knowing Iris better over time; and if how relaxed Barry had been when he’d returned the night before had been any indication, she was going to be good for all of them. Her judgement of his food already reminded him of Patricia, but much less…scary. Even though her eyes held a haunting past in them, he was sure that they were all going to make one big weird, perfect family. Hedwig was already spending most of his time out of the light raving about her, but they all knew that he wouldn’t meet her until she was comfortable enough to come to their home—body of a man or not, they would never allow a nine-year-old boy out on his own. Regardless of how badly he wanted to meet Iris.

“Although, I may have to hold your groceries hostage a little while longer,” Luke continued a moment later, pulling himself back to reality as he snatched Iris’s basket before she could.

“What?” the small woman stuttered in surprise; she had not been expecting him to continue the whole charade now that they were checking out.

“Until I have safely walked you home, I will not let you have your groceries.”

Iris frowned faintly at him. “I can’t let you do that, Luke. You have a ton of things yourself, and I’m just down the block. I’ve done this a million times before.” Her eyes scanned over the cart, knowing that Luke was going to have several more bags than her and as strong as he seemed, she didn’t want to cause any trouble for the man.

“Well, good thing I was planning on calling a cab—and Barry spilled the beans, I know that your place is near that little café that Jade loves, which means you’re on my way home. So, we’ll take a cab and both of us are saved from that.” As he finished speaking, he pointed to the front window of the store. Iris followed the direction of his finger and gasped at the sight of the absolute downpour that was happening outside. The few people out there had umbrellas or bags over their heads and they were madly rushing for the nearest cover. It was enough that she nearly missed his mention of another name. Jade.

“Oh, no,” she grumbled, already dreading the simple thought of walking through that.

“By that tone, I’m guessing I win,” Luke whispered dramatically, bent forward so that he was right next to her ear. Iris sighed while her shoulders dropped, defeated. “Ha! Victory!” he called, celebrating.

Iris couldn’t help but to laugh at his antics, shaking her head while she moved forward to place a divider on the cashier’s belt, then reach out for her basket with a strict, no nonsense look that was usually reserved for rowdy children that were brought into her store. Luke grinned somewhat sheepishly and finally returned her basket so that she could empty it out onto the belt, placing another divider to separate their things.

The simple, everyday routine allowed them both to relax after the initial excitement of meeting. Luke had nearly fled the aisle when he’d first seen her, having thought that there was no possible way that it could really be her. He’d never had such amazing luck before, but it seemed that it was finally his time because she’d been just as Barry had told them.

The mark on the back of her hand, and the trace of another on her wrist like Fletcher and Barry had explained, just confirmed everything.

Iris, on the other hand, was already reeling from having spent time with one soulmate, who even slept over at her apartment, and now she was meeting another. It almost made her dizzy, especially since they wore the same face but had such differing styles and personalities. It made her wonder if it would get easier with each of the identities, or if she would always feel that strange mix of familiarity and nervousness that boiled over into timid excitement when she met them.

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#Split #Split Movie #Barry Split #Barry #Dennis Split #Dennis #Barry/OC #Dennis/OC #Barry Imagine #Split Imagine #Dennis Imagine #Split Fanfiction #The One With Whiskey Eyes #Hedwig Split #Patricia Split #Luke Split

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hallowed-be-thy-username · 4 years ago

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First I wanted to say that I binge read a lot of your fics and I love all of them! Thx for sharing your amazing work with us 💜 I wondered if I may request a fic with J and a reader who's insecure about her body because she's a little bit chubby (really only a little bit). But she was mocked in her past, and now she hardly wants to show anything of her body, e.g. even in summer she never wears shorts etc. Fluff would be great 💚 Feel free to ignore my request if you don't like writing about it.

Hello, anon!! I’m back with your fic! Thank you so much again for your request 🥺�� I hope you see it and I really hope its what you were looking for! It’s a very fluffy comfort fic with a very soft version of J. A girl needs some comfort sometimes!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, comfort, fluff, fluff fluff

Word count: 2, 574 🙈

Warnings: body issues/low self-esteem, anxiety, triggers involving removing clothes, not quite NSFW but clothing is taken off

Heat

Sweat beaded on your forehead as you reached to turn on the fan by your window. The artificial breeze did little to relieve your discomfort brought on by the sweltering heat wave blanketing Gotham.

Summer decided it wasn’t finished yet and the temperature suddenly soared this late September evening with no sign of cooling down, even with the setting of the harsh sun. You hated the summer. Sweaty clothing sticking to your skin, the humidity in the air making you feel sluggish. Everyone walked around in shorts and tank tops, soaking up the sun’s rays at parks and on patios, or cooling off in the waves at the shore, comfortable showing their skin. You weren’t.

This time of year was hard for you. You didn’t want to show your body. Long pants and shirts with enough fabric to conceal your torso, thats all you wore, even when you were by yourself. People would see you walking around in jeans and a zip-up hoodie in ninety degree weather and look at you like something was wrong with you. There wasn’t anything wrong with you, well not in that way. You’d been mocked for your appearance so much during your life, especially when you were young, that if you spent too long in front of a mirror you’d find plenty of things. You’d look at your reflection and lament about the little extra weight you carry, your smaller bust, this crease, that stretch mark. People are cruel. People are shallow. If you don’t have a body that meets their standards, they’re sure to tell you.

Part of what attracted you to Joker was the fact that he couldn’t care less about what anyone thinks of him. His clothes were loud, his face was one that no one can ignore, his presence commanded attention. He basked in it, reveled in having eyes on him, but had no interest in their opinion. As long as he made a lasting impression, he was happy. Of course he knew that he would, no one forgot him.

You certainly didn’t. You saw his face and were instantly mesmerized. His eyes drew yours in and held them there with an invisible force. Of all places to find yourself, it had to be at Gotham National Bank that morning. Everything happened so fast. Fear turned into fascination and fascination turned into an unlikely new job for you. When he didn’t scare you away, curiosity flashed on his face. You couldn’t look away. He let you go on one condition, you worked for him now. You were his eyes and ears, a little birdie, listening for rumors and word of mouth from around the city. He found your inconspicuousness useful.

You managed to keep your feelings secret for awhile now. You couldn’t help your attraction to him, he was so enigmatic and charming. His charm was undoubtedly a tool he used for manipulation but with you, it felt different. He didn’t try to scare you. He towered over your shorter stature but you liked it, when he stood over you he was all you could see. He started calling you names like “doll face” and “kitten”, even “my little bird”, making your heart flutter every time he said them. You never saw him interact with anyone in a romantic way, but you had a feeling the ability was there, hiding. There was a softness in his hands that you could see. He always said his scars scared people, not you though. You wanted to run your fingertips over them, kiss them, love them. You felt this emptiness, a lack of intimacy, that you wanted him to fill.

But you couldn’t do anything. You didn’t feel like you were good enough for him. He’s the Joker, how could you be good enough for him?

You apartment door swung open and you jumped from your chair, scrambling to your feet.

“Jump-y little bird, aren’t ya?” Joker chuckled.

Your widened eyes narrowed at him before sighing and flopping back into your seat. “Well someone suddenly bursting into my apartment is a little startling, yeah.”

Joker grinned and giggled again, he always seemed to have fun getting you riled up so you’d be snarky with him. “Ahh what’s got your knickers in a knot, hm?”

“Its… its just so hot out,” you answered, your face darkening at his mention of your underwear.

It was so hot out he was without his trademark purple trench and suit jacket, even his vest and tie were missing. The sleeves of his hexagon shirt were rolled up so you couldn’t stop eyeing his bare forearms. He cocked an eyebrow as his eyes studied your attire. “Uhh it would prob-ably help if your weren’t dressed for a, ah, snow storm, doll.”

You smirked and huffed a giggle at his joke like you always would, trying to hide that the subject of your appearance was already starting to grate at your nerves.

“No! Not a snow storm! I just, um, I like to be comfortable,” you lied with a smile on your face.

But you couldn’t fool him. He saw right through your phony casual demeanor, tilting his head to the side while he stared at you, waiting for you to tell him the truth.

You still tried to change the subject. “S-so, uh, I heard something about Batman today.”

Of course he knew you were lying. He could see the hesitation in your eyes, the way your brow was slightly furrowed, your nervous fingers fidgeting with the loose thread on your shirt.

“Nooo you didn’t,” he said in a deep voice, his tongue flicking over his lip. He continued to wait with his eyes on you, breaking down the façade you were attempting to build in front of you.

You swallowed and stared at him, the forced grin dropping from your face. He wanted to be serious. Alright, you can be serious. You always joked about things but never this. It was too personal.

“You’re gonna make me talk about this?” you asked, your heart now pounding in your throat.

Joker nodded slowly. He didn’t like to be lied to, you knew this, and he wouldn’t let it go until you talked. He stepped closer, his expression like stone while he lowered himself to sit in front of you. Your instincts compelled you to hide yourself even more so you drew yours knees in to your chest. He wasn’t going to back down.

You kept your eyes on his and look a deep breath before looking away, your hands starting to shake. “I… don’t like the way I look. I cover myself with clothes so I don’t have to see, so no one else can see.”

Tears formed behind your eyes, burning with embarrassment. Why did you say that? You’ve never told that to anyone and you just told Joker. Why? Your head started to buzz and your chest tightened. You wished that the floor would open and swallow you up so you wouldn’t have to face his ridicule.

“You care about that?” you heard him ask.

Your heart nearly stopped and your gaze jerked back over to his face. What did he just say?

“Um… what?”

His heavy black eyelids blinked at you and he said, “That’s no way to live your life, my little bird.”

All you could do was blink back, your mouth opening to speak but no words came to mind. You never expected him to say something like that.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do. I wanna see. You’re gonna show me,” he said, completely serious.

Your stomach sank so violently you though you were going to throw up. “What?? No! N-no…” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, this situation was heading in an unexpected direction so fast it was making your head spin.

He reached out and gripped your wrist when you tried to stand up. He’d never touched you before. His hands were rough but also soft. His skin was so warm. You stopped and slowly lifted your eyes to meet his, your rapid breath slowing.

“I won’t force ya, doll, its not like that at all. But… you’ll feel better.”

You stared back into his eyes. They looked different. He looked at you with a sort of reverence, like you were the one that would be granting him the privilege. Something stirred inside you. He was suddenly holding the door open for your relationship to become something more. You’d always wished it so, but now you were nervous. Your pulse was racing again and you tried to come up with something to say. You didn’t think you could do it. What if he didn’t like your body? What if you disgusted him? What if…

“What if I do it too, hm?” he asked.

Your eyes widened and you almost choked as your throat when dry as a bone. You’d… get to see him too? Now you really couldn’t speak.

His eyes took in your expression before he leaned forward and slowly used his hold on your wrist to guide your hand to his chest, where his shirt was buttoned near the top.

“I’ll go first,” he said softly.

Your fingers touched his chest and goosebumps prickled your arms despite the oppressive heat. You stared at your fingertips that now touched him so lightly. You’d never touched him before either. A tingling feeling swirled in your belly and you looked from your hand to his eyes. His eyelids heavy, he silently nodded at you.

Your fingers trembled as your other hand came up to grip the fabric, sliding the button through. It was like you had no control over them as your hands continued to move down each button, his chest steadily rising and falling with his breath. You looked at his skin, small scars littered over his chest as it was slowly revealed to you. Then he slipped his suspenders off of his shoulders to pull his arms out of the shirt, leaving it on the chair behind him. He watched you stare at his naked torso before kicking his shoes off and bending to pull off his socks. Without hesitation, he stood and unbuttoned his pants to let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them to stand in front of you, wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts.

Now the room felt even hotter, your blood rushing to the surface and face flushed from watching him just undress in front of you, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, his body like a magnet for them while your heart thumped against your ribs. You felt his gaze on you and you slowly looked up at him.

“Your turn, doll. Are ya ready?”

Your breath quickened and you bit your lip. Maybe he was right. You spent so much effort and went through so much discomfort to hide yourself from people. He made it look so easy. Maybe you would feel better.

You cleared your throat and said quietly, “Can, um… can you– can you do it for me?”

He nodded and put out his hand for you to take. A tingle traveled down your back and he lead you away from the windows to the privacy of your bedroom to sit you down on your bed. He caught you in his gaze once more before gently taking your arms out of your hoodie, his fingertips brushing against the skin on your arms to raise yet another ripple of goosebumps.

You took a sharp inhale when he lightly gripped the bottom of your t-shirt and he stopped. You tried to gain control of your breathing and stared at his hands. Fear tightened your muscles and all of your insecurities came bubbling to the surface. Memories of sports physicals, locker rooms, and swim class, anxiety about having to take your clothes off, flooded your mind. This almost didn’t feel real.

Then Joker let go of your shirt and started running his hands up your arms. It felt… amazing. His touch was light and gentle, comforting. It was so unlike what you’d expect. He was carefully taking in all of the bends and curves, paying attention to your details. You didn’t feel like he was scrutinizing, just appreciating. The urge to feel his hands on more of you made your stomach flutter you took his hands to guide them back to the hem of your shirt. He looked up at you and you nodded slightly.

Slowly, he lifted your shirt until it was over your head. Your eyes were squeezed shut when you felt his fingertips on your collar bone while he coaxed you to lay back. Your eyelids softened but you kept your eyes closed while he took his time tracing it before running his finger down the center of your chest, between your breasts. Your breathing quickened and he slowed down again, taking care to pay attention to how you reacted to where he put his hands. His thumbs grazed your belly when he ran his palms down your sides. You stiffened a bit as he entered an area you were self-conscious about, but you started to relax when he carefully caressed the plush skin from the center outward to follow your curves with his fingers. You sighed when he placed his hands on your shoulders to glide his fingers over your chest then down to your waistband. He gripped the button on your jeans and stopped, waiting until you opened your eyes.

His gaze was tranquil, putting you at ease and giving you a confidence you didn’t know you had. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your mouth and you nodded again before he unbuttoned your pants and gently pulled them down. You tried to keep yourself calm as you watched your legs become uncovered, marks and lines highlighting every area you’ve spent so long deploring, wishing you could change, hiding.

Your thoughts began to revert to their typical self disparagement until Joker laid his hands on your thighs, palms flat, one on each leg. He was knelt over you with your ankles between his knees. He slid his hands down toward your knees, putting light pressure, like a massage. He hadn’t said a word since he started undressing you but it didn’t seem like he needed to. His hands rubbed and kneaded your muscles, fingers traced your shapes, and palms soothed. You even felt cooler. He continued to explore your body, rubbing your calves and your ankles, with nothing but admiration, like he was grated access to appreciate something beautiful. You felt like one of those women in Renaissance paintings, reclined on soft cushions to be venerated by an attentive admirer.

He lifted his fingers from your ankles and sat back for a moment. His eyes scanned down your body while you breathed and he purred in a low voice, “Now you, well you are a sight to behold, doll face.”

A genuine smile stretched across your face and suddenly he moved to bring his face up to yours, his hands propping him over top of you. “Feel better?” he murmured, his lips so close they nearly grazed yours.

“I… I do actually,” you said softly, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders while your heart raced.

“Good.”

His lips took hold of yours to pull you into a deep kiss, wrapping you in a different kind of heat.

#heath ledger joker #ledger!joker #the dark knight #soft!joker #joker fanfiction #joker x you #ledger joker x reader #anon request #tw anxiety #tw body negativity #tw low self esteem

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fckinsupreme · 5 years ago

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Masterpiece - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader - One-Shot

Description: Xavier drops by your art studio and distracts you from a deadline.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Female reader, oral sex (female receiving), breast and nipple play, spanking (brief), dirty talk, unprotected sex, choking (light, brief), and paint use during sex.

A/N: Anonymous requested - Hi! Could you do an Xavier x reader where the reader love painting and Xavier appreciates her art along with having kinky paint sex?

Sorry if this has been done before!

No copyright infringement intended! Any rights belong to proper shareholders and they deserve the ultimate credit.

__________________________________

The evening pinned up inside of your art studio had been slow, monotonous. You had been there for hours, working to complete a portrait that your local art gallery wished to display for their upcoming exhibit. They had commissioned a portrait of your choice, which meant that you were on a deadline; it also meant that you had to cancel date plans with your boyfriend, Xavier Plympton. You hated having to do it, to see the look of sadness & disappointment etched into his handsome face, but you needed to do this. It was of the utmost importance, something that was very near and dear to your heart, and he understood that. Even still, you wished that you could be with him instead tonight, to be in his arms, to feel his body on yours, to relish in his lips and hands traveling over your entire body…

But the plus side was that you weren’t entirely without his company. The portrait that you had chosen to paint for the gallery was of him, a full-body one with the most exquisite of detail. Bringing him to life on canvas had proven distracting at times, his beauty staring back at you as it became more and more realistic upon the easel. You had to remind yourself, more than once, of the precious seconds that ticked by the longer you ogled it, and how many of those wasted ticks of the clock would result in more time here. He was grinning in the painting, adorned in his favorite lavender jacket, dark purple crop tank top, nice-fitting blue jeans, and his trademark cross earring. It had been his requested outfit, and he’d modeled it for you recently during a lazy Sunday afternoon. The Polaroid of it rested on your easel, tiny flecks of paint scattered about its surface, but not enough to impact the photo itself. You were grateful; you planned on hanging that little picture in your room when this was all over.

Presently, you’re so focused on your work that you don’t hear the studio door open. You don’t pick up on the footsteps behind you, nor hear the breathy laugh as those feet approached. You thank your lucky stars that your brush was away from the canvas as those familiar arms, muscular and strong, envelop you from behind in a tight hug, nearly lifting you from your seat. You cry out in surprise, ready to elbow the mystery man, before he chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Surprise, babe.”

“Xavier!” you cry, both in surprise and playful anger. “What are you doing here?!”

“I didn’t wanna sit at home bored all night without my best girl,” he answers as you turn around. His eyes were on the painting, an awed expression on his own, real-time face. “Wow. That looks really, really good.”

“You really like it?” you ask, tilting your head. “I wasn’t sure that I was doing justice to the Polaroid.”

“I love it,” he breathes, refraining from touching so as not to smear the wet, fresh paint. “You’re so talented, Y/N.”

You can’t help but blush at that remark, watching as he walks around the studio. He observes some of your other works--a monarch butterfly perched upon a red rose, a lighthouse based on a photo you took during a trip to Maine in 1980, a portrait of your best friend that won first prize in a contest a couple years ago. He pored over each one as if they were sacred works of Dali or Picasso, face lit up as he glances at you. He slowly strides back to where you’re standing, his hands on your waist as he gives you a tender kiss.

“I love your work,” he murmurs against your lips, giving your waist a squeeze. “I’m pretty lucky to have such a talented girlfriend.”

That comment results in you bringing the brush, still covered in a small bit of paint, across his cheek in a playful swat. You both giggle, with Xavier gathering a tiny amount from his face and smudging it over your cheek in return. You offer him a look of faux shock, gliding the brush across his other cheek as he howled in false derision. You drew your hand back as if you were going to paint his nose, but he grabs your wrist in order to still your movements. He lowers it slowly, his breathtaking blue eyes on yours as he leans in for another kiss.

You expect nothing less than his needy, raw kissing, the type that became something of his trademark. That’s why you’re stunned when he starts the kiss off slow and gentle, his large hands still planted firmly upon your waist. Your hand, the one holding the brush, creeps up one toned arm, settling there as his lips move against yours. It doesn't take long for that familiar style to show itself, his lips parting as his tongue darts over your closed mouth. You open your lips to grant him access, his tongue swiping past your own as your hand moves further upward. The brush falls to the ground behind Xavier with a dull clack!, lying forgotten as you mewl lightly into his mouth. He tastes of vanilla and a hint of cinnamon, and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no better taste in the whole world.

“God, I fucking missed you today,” he pants, fisting your hair as he presses his hips to yours, his lips attacking your neck. You can feel that he’s already started getting hard, and you move one hand between your bodies to palm his forming erection. “Mmm…yeah, baby. Do you feel that?”

You nod with a smirk, grabbing the belt loops of his pants before unfastening them and tugging his belt off. “I missed this,” you say in his ear, tugging his cock free from the confines of his pants. “I’ve been aching to touch you all day.”

“Maybe you should paint that next,” he suggests jokingly, moaning as you begin pumping him. He hardens even more in your hand, and encourages you to push his pants & boxers around his ankles. He steps out of them, cock now fully freed. “Or...mmm...sculpt it. Make your own dildo with my cock as the prototype.”

“Why would I do that when I have the real thing?” you purr, tugging your shirt off before he does the same with his. “The most amazing dick in the world, and it’s all mine.”

“Damn right,” he says, pulling you close for a messy kiss.

The rest of your clothes and his soon fall to the floor, between sloppy, breathless kisses and your hands wandering all over each other’s exposed skin. His mouth trails down your bare chest, his face buried in your breasts as he peers up at you. Looking into those eyes, so full of raw desire, makes your heart flutter. How had you been so lucky to have someone like Xavier? He was like a dream and yet, here he was--as real as air and all yours. Gazing at him and getting lost in the feeling of his mouth, now moving down your stomach, almost made you forget--

“Fuck,” you say with mild panic. “Xavier, I need to get back to work.”

“Mmm,” he hums, his open mouth situated above your pubic mound. “Later, babe. Right now, I want you to relax with me; you deserve it.”

“I have a deadline,” you say, but make no attempt at stopping him.

“It isn’t due for, what? Another four or five days? You can pull an all-nighter sometime if you need it, but it looks almost done to me. Come on, baby. Let me take care of you tonight.”

You chew anxiously on your bottom lip, but you realize he’s right. Two more days, tops, and it would be complete. What was one night of some much-needed fun going to hurt? Especially when you were fully aware of how much fun sex with Xavier actually was. He wasn’t like any other man you’d ever been with: He wasn’t afraid to be funny during the act, he giggled when it was appropriate, he wasn’t afraid to be loud and vocal, he absolutely loved making you feel good, and he felt like heaven inside of you. He also wasn’t an asshole when it came to going down on you, unlike most of the other men who only did it to get their dicks sucked in return. He truly enjoyed it, he was enthusiastic about it and never expected a blowjob for it.

How could you turn him down any other time, but especially in an instance when you needed it most? It was the best way to de-stress that you could think of, and he was offering it to you. Why not take it?

“Okay,” you finally say. “I think letting my hair down tonight is just what I need. I wouldn’t be able to focus this far in, anyway.”

His grin was beatific, nearly splitting his face as he stands from the paint-splattered concrete floor. He coaxes you toward a large, wide table with paint bottles & plastic sheets strewn about its surface, pushing you onto it after sliding the sheets to the ground. An open bottle of bright red paint is knocked onto the table amidst the chaos, and any other time you would have been irritated. But you were too lost in the moment and in your own lust to care, and you delight in the fact that more bottles remained within reach. They’re mostly closed, but the ideas that form in your head surrounding them are numerous and spectacular.

The cool, liquid feeling of red paint fills your entire back, and you pull Xavier on top of you in a heated, saliva-filled kiss. One idea that you had only seconds before comes to the forefront of your mind, your tongue exploring the roof of his mouth as you reach for some paint. You grasp a bottle of standard blue, and squirt some onto his back once the cap was popped open. He gasps in shock against your lips, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he only kisses you even harder, your hands smearing the paint to form a blue canvas on his skin. You bring your hands around to the front, trailing streaks of blue over his chiseled torso.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes as you tweak his nipples. “Do you like that? Do you enjoy making a mess out of me?”

“You know it,” you tease, licking over his tongue as you wiggle a bit. “You kinda started it, though. You knocked over the red and now I’m lying in it.”

“And you covered me in blue,” he says in amusement as he catches sight of your paint-covered fingers. “Do you wanna make purple?”

You laugh, unable to help yourself. “That’s the corniest line I’ve ever heard, Xavier.”

“It may be corny,” he whispers, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “But my perfect cock pounding into your pretty, dripping cunt won’t be as much.”

You whine, biting your lip as he flips you over. You’re on top of him now, his back in the puddle of red. He gathers some on his fingers, massaging your breasts as you moan appreciatively. You grab the bottle of blue again, handing it to him with a mischievous grin. He gets the idea, squirting some onto one palm and rubbing his hands together. He swipes them over your breasts, relishing in your lewd moans and the way that the red paint on your skin soon turns purple. You reach down to place your hands in a small amount of red, running your hands over his blue chest to achieve the same effect.

“So pretty,” he marvels, eyes glued to your erect nipples as he gives your ass a hard spank. His fingers ghost over your clit, before pinching and rolling one nipple between his fingers. “All painted up, desperate, and soaking wet. Did you know that purple is my favorite color? It looks so damn good all over those pretty tits.”

“Xavier,” you mewl, head falling backward. “Don’t be a tease.”

He winks at you, shifting you onto your back again. He ducks between your legs, mouth immediately settling over your clit. Usually, he’s more into the build-up, in absolutely doing everything in his power to rile you up past your limit, but tonight he’s wasting no time. He grips your thighs like a vice, leaving lines of purple in his wake as he begins to devour your pussy. His skilled tongue flicks over the small, sensitive bundle of nerves, soon massaging your folds with his mouth as he gazes up at you. Your eyes meet his, the lust in your eyes mirrored in his own, as your hands bury in his hair. He gives a soft yelp in protest, not wanting to get paint in his hair, but upon seeing red paint clinging to your own (h/c) locks, he’s less prissy about it. He guides his tongue along every crevice, every lip, every inch that he can reach, his chin coated in your juices. You groan, tugging his frosted hair before running one hand down his pierced ear. The cross earring that you love so much is smudged with a tiny bit of blue paint, and you hum as you admire it for the smallest second.

“You taste so good,” he remarks. “As always. I missed your sweet taste, babe.”

“I missed your mouth,” you say, rutting into his face before he shakes his head back & forth rapidly against your core. “Xavier!”

“Y/N,” he purrs, smears of red paint on your hips from where his fingers had yet again dipped into the running puddle. “You’re so hot.”

“Not as hot as you,” you purr seductively, arching off the table as his full lips envelop your swollen, drenched clit. He sucks generously, tongue swirling madly as your legs begin to quake. He hums loudly against you for vibration, and your eyes roll back slightly. He wipes his painted fingers off on his thigh, making sure there’s no fresh remaining before pushing two of them inside of you. His hot, wet mouth is still on your cunt, his hums growing louder as his tongue swipes more urgently against your clit. His fingers pump and curl against your spot, juices spilling onto his hand as you feel your stomach beginning to tighten. “Xavier, I’m gonna cum. Please--”

“Not yet,” he growls, running his free hand up the entirety of your thigh. “You can’t cum yet, baby girl.”

“But--” you begin, whining softly when he withdraws his mouth & fingers, crawling up your body in a slow, teasing manner.

He says nothing as he grabs a bottle of yellow paint, squirting it into his hand. He uses that same hand to grab your throat, but not too hard; just enough to keep a firm hold on you. Ravenous baby blues scan your face, smirking as you grin around his grip. A green color, mixed with swirls of red and purple, starts to form on your neck, and Xavier admires it as if it’s the most beautiful color he’s ever seen. And maybe, just maybe, it actually was.

“I want you to cum around my cock, babe,” he says as he releases your throat. “I’ve been craving it all day.”

He pins your hands above your head by the wrists, and you give him a consensual nod. He keeps your hands pinned with one of his own, the other gliding down to guide his cock inside of you. You both groan in satisfaction, and you don’t even care about the fact that he had some paint on his cock as it went in. After all, he still had some on his fingers earlier, a bit drier than that on his dick had been, so what was a little more? How could you give a fuck, anyway, when he felt this damn good? He throbs inside of you, and you could feel every vein, every ridge, every pulsation of his erection as he pushed even deeper within. You clenched around him instinctively, soaking in his moans as you did so.

“So tight,” he groans, letting go of your arms. “Fuck.”

“You’re so big, Xav,” you gasp, leaning forward to press kisses over his neck and clavicle. “I love it.”

He purrs at the praise, thrusting sharply to fully seat himself inside of you. You grab the back of his neck, looking into his eyes before observing the painted, cum-soaked mess of his face. His hair and upper chest are also covered in paint, swirls of the various colors used decorating him like a living, breathing canvas. You can feel drying paint on his back as your hands explore the muscular expanse, your cunt squeezing him again before he starts properly thrusting. One of his hands begins to roam your side and your thigh before gripping your throat a little harder than he had previously. His other hand supports his weight, although he struggles one-handed as his hand slides in the congealing paint on the table. He presses forcefully on your throat for a moment before using it to prop himself better, absolutely pounding into you after finding his newfound footing.

“Jesus,” you whimper, moaning in his ear as your hold switches from the back of his neck to settle in his hair. “You feel so good pounding into me, Daddy.”

He chuckles breathlessly at the nickname, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in harshly. Your hand is still paint covered as it fists in his hair, some a bit fresh and other old and drying, coloring the locks purple, red, and even a small bit of green. He isn’t objecting, still mercilessly fucking into you as he kisses you hungrily. His noises of pleasure vibrate against your lips, your own noises filling his mouth as his cock brushes repeatedly against your sweet spot. He pulls back after a little while, completely admiring you. He looks at you as though you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen, his hips slamming into yours. His balls slap against your ass, so big and heavy, and you can’t wait to feel him cumming inside of you. It becomes a craving so intense that it’s an itch you can't scratch; the only way to satiate it is for him to cum, to give you exactly what you both want him to.

“Xavier,” you mewl. “I can’t wait for you to cum, and I want it you to do it so fucking deep. Will you do that for me? Will you cum inside of me? Will you let me milk that perfect fucking cock of every drop?”

“Fuck yes,” he pants, the hand that had previously been planted within the red puddle now grasping your jaw. “As long as you scream my name when you cum. I want anyone close by to hear you. I want them to know how good my dick makes you feel.”

“Back at it with being cheesy, I see,” you joke, and you receive a light warning tug to your hair in response. “Mmm...okay, okay. I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” he praises, mewling hotly in your ear as your nails dig into his painted back. “I fucking love your pussy, babe. I can’t say it enough.”

“I know you do,” you say, the red paint beneath your back making a squelching sound with each thrust. You were surprised that any remained on the table’s surface, or that it was still wet enough to produce such a sound. Then again, maybe you were confusing it with the noises of him fucking into your sopping cunt; it was shockingly similar to your ears. Then, another idea forms in your head to find out what the sound truly is: “I wanna ride you.”

“I won’t complain about that,” he says, flipping you over so that you were on top of him, his cock still deeply embedded inside of you. “You look like a goddess when you bounce on my cock.”

You set a steady pace, trying to keep the fast one that he had set. You soon realize that the noise was not, in fact, caused by the paint but by the sex itself. It almost echoes in the surrounding space, along with the sound of both of your moaning & heavy breathing that signaled your upcoming climaxes. You move up and down, slamming onto him with every movement downward. You make sure that he rams into your G-spot each time, wanting to feel his engorged head against it with each bounce of your hips. Xavier’s hands, now a red-green-purple mix, explore your waistline and hips, traveling to your breasts eventually and giving them a fresh splash of color. You rest your hands over his, losing yourself in the sensation of the dried paint on his hands against your sensitive nipples.

Your head lolls back, soft sighs of ecstasy spilling from your lips. He tugs your nipples, rubbing them in circles before pulling you down. You keep working your hips, chest level with his face at this point. Painted tits bounce in his face with the momentum of you fucking yourself onto his massive length, one of your hands above him to brace yourself as the other toys with your clit. He runs his tongue along one hardened nipple, paying no mind to the taste of the paint. The amount was minuscule, but you know it had to taste like shit; it was fucking paint, after all.

“I guess it’s fortunate that I only use non-toxic, acrylic paint, hm?” you tease, which causes him to hum. His lips wrap around your nipple, sucking softly. “Isn’t the taste of that pretty nasty?”

“It isn’t the worst thing ever,” Xavier replies, face now positioned between your jiggling breasts. “It’s not pussy, but it’s alright. Pussy is the best flavor in the world, you know that.”

You laugh softly at his comment, sitting back up and swiveling your hips as you toss your hair from your face. He moans thickly, and your hands bury in your own paint-covered hair. His hands continue to run over your body in a colorful pattern, your own finding his chest as one rubs wildly at your clit again. You know that he wants you to cum first, you can sense it by the look in his eyes and his attention on your sensitive breasts, his fingers working magic on them. He pinches and rolls the nipples, occasionally giving your tits a hard squeeze. You know that your orgasm is quickly approaching, and you open your mouth to warn him of it.

In response, Xavier forcefully grabs your tits, holding on so hard that you fear they may bruise. It doesn’t really faze you that much for long, though; in fact, it only fuels your orgasm and you finally cum so hard that stars begin dancing across your vision. You scream his name as you promised, scratching down his chest through the valley of red and purple, nail marks revealing pieces of his pale skin underneath. His hold is on your hips now, holding you firmly in place as you soak his cock in your sticky, milky essence. Your head is swimming, and as you hit your high, you’re vaguely aware of him guiding your hips along his cock to chase his own release.

“Babe,” he rasps, darkened eyes drinking in the sight of your body atop of his. “God, you’re a fucking porn star. Look at you.”

“I know,” you say, a dazed grin on your face. You clench around him, trying to coax him to his own orgasm. “Go ahead, Xav. Cum inside of me.”

He bites his lip, eyes on your heaving, moving breasts. He can no longer contain himself at the sight, shooting his hot load deep inside of your pussy. You feel his cock twitching, his balls nearly draining completely within you as he gives you all that he can. It feels too damn good, and you don’t want to move off as he finishes. He moans your name before it falls repeatedly from his kiss-swollen lips in a breathy chant. You smile, reluctantly lifting your hips as you feel him becoming flaccid. He hugs you to his chest, lying you next to him in order to hold you. His painted fingers play with your stiffened hair, and he’s laughing after a small beat of silence.

“What?” you ask, propping your chin on his chest.

“Nothing,” he says, running his fingers down your cheek in a tender manner. “It’s just that you’re officially the prettiest piece of art in this room.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say teasingly, rolling your eyes playfully. “You’re on a roll with the corniness tonight.”

“It’s true!” he says in protest with a mock pout. “You know I’m right, babe.”

“No, you’re wrong,” you say with a wink. “The prettiest artwork here is you. You already look like a statue of Adonis, and that dick? That is a work of art in and of itself.”

“Don’t forget my balls, too,” he jokes, and now you’re rolling your eyes for real.

“Dork,” you laugh, leaning up for a gentle kiss. “But honestly, the real art is your pretty face and that bone structure.”

He’s silent for several minutes, both of you basking in the afterglow. Then, his laughter rings out again--this time, more of a chortle. You look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion over what he could be laughing about now. You almost speak, but he answers before you get a chance to.

“You know how they have those paint canvases that are, like, huge?” he asks, and you nod. “Well, I was reading in Playboy awhile back that people have sex on them, covered in paint, and it makes really cool art. Like sex art made by real sex.”

“And why were you reading Playboy, Mr. Plympton?” you tease, trying to hide your smirk and failing. “Hm?”

“For the jokes and the articles,” he says, putting up a serious act that backfires when he scratches the back of his neck. That’s how you always knew he was lying, that damn neck scratch. “And okay, yeah, for the naked chicks. Who, by the way, aren’t as hot as you. They have fake hair, fake tans, fake bodies, and then there’s the fact that some of them don’t even--”

“I get it, babe,” you interject with a chuckle. “I actually have canvas like that here. It’s like a sheet and it’s pretty big.”

“You’re saying you wanna try it?” Xavier asks, eyes big with both excitement and surprise. “For real?”

“Why not?” you say, sitting up with a wide grin. “It could be fun, and I could display it in here. Tell people who may stop by that I made it with my boyfriend.”

“Mmm,” he hums, licking his lips. “Go get it, baby.”

You offer another wink, sliding from the table. You know that you’ll be cursing the whole situation later in the shower, trying to scrub layers of dry paint from your hair and skin, but for now, that didn’t matter. You desperately needed this night of letting loose and having the fun that you’d been deprived of lately. Trying new things was definitely an option, and you were determined to make the most of it. A sex canvas seemed to be the icing on the cake, and as you retrieve a spare canvas and some extra paint from your storeroom, you knew this night would be unlike any other.

To hell with the deadline. If you somehow didn’t meet it because of this, you had a feeling it would be more than worth it.

___

Taglist!

@littledemondani, @wroteclassicaly, @venusxxlangdon, @ringpop-poppy, @ccodyfern, @icylangdon, @duncvns, @mantorokk, @queencocoakimmie, @codyswhore, @sebastianshoe, @rocketgirl2410, @hisgirlwonder, @sherlocklaufeyson, @disa, @hxdesworld, @w0nder-marie, @hplotrfan, @holylangdon, @losers-club6, @langdonsdemon, @melodylangdon, @idespac, @femaleantichrist, @chaoticevillangdon, @lotsofhunny, @maso-xchrist @iloveziggystardust, @hecohansen31, @lvngdvns, @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul, @michealsheep, @codyssfern, @lovelylangdonx, @1-800-bitchcraft, @coollangdon, @leatherduncan, @thorohdamnson, @angel-langdon, @kaetastic, @jetblackpayne, @arkhamren, @madamaholmes, @theinevitableprophecy, @langdonsblood, @daydreamingofcody, @rebelyelll, @psychobitchtess, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @confettucini, @sojournmichael, @xavierplymptonsangel, @heavymetalover, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @syndaselur, @xavierrplymptons, @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern, @swishandflick889, @xaviersghost, @antichristsxbox, @blackredrose27, @langdxn, @ladynuwanda, @jims-wave, @sammythankyou

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darylandbethfanforever9 · 4 years ago

Text

Fallen

Written for @jtargaryen18’s Haunted House challenge. Thank you, so much for letting me take part in my first Clint/OC one-shot. I hope you all enjoy reading it. Co-written with @threeminutesoflife.

Fallen

Pairing: Dark Clint Barton/OC, (reincarnated OC) and fallen archangel Clint/Ronin.

Word Count: 4371

Warnings: Breeding kink, slight rough sex

I hope everyone enjoys the story, and I really hope jtargaryen18 enjoys the story.

Lena Markowitz had been lucky as hell to get the last online ticket, for the celebrity haunted house night. It was open for only one night, and she had desperately wanted to leave the lonely apartment, that she was forced to call home.

There was no que when she arrived, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. She was shown into the haunted house, and there were other celebrities, but she chose Jeremy Renner, and the Hawkeye/Ronin set to see.

She curiously moved closer to the set of her favourite character, before shivering from the chill in the air. Lena didn’t realise that she had gotten too close, and with a flash of pure white light, disappeared, only leaving behind a purple scarf.

Clint Barton, or Ronin as he was called now, moved silently around the land of his farmhouse. He’d decided to take matters into his own hands, after seeing the worst of humanity getting away with heinous crimes. He hardly cared what anyone thought of what he was doing, he had a job to do and that was it, end of story.

Especially, since losing her to the worst of humanity and his father. He’d failed to protect her, because his father had felt the need to punish him for rebelling.

He saw a figure up ahead, and cautiously moved towards the person who was calling out for help. He froze when he saw the familiar red wavy hair, and brown eyes.

‘It can’t be her; it can’t be her. I lost her, because of him,’ He thought stunned.

Lena had no idea where she was, but she knew that she wasn’t at the haunted house anymore, that was for sure. It was cold, and it was snowing heavily. Her scarf was gone, so she buttoned up her coat even further.

She saw a farmhouse up ahead. Perhaps she could ask the owner for help and find out where the hell she was. She cautiously walked towards the house, to hear a voice call out to her warningly.

“Stop right there, and don’t move!” The voice growled warningly, a threat in the man’s voice and she stayed still. For what almost seemed like an eternity, she saw a man come round from the left side of the house.

He stood out like a wolf in a forest. His hair was in the style of a mohawk, his dark blonde, almost brown hair swept to the top of his head, giving him a menacing, but yet dangerous edge. He was wearing a black leather jacket with dark blue jeans, and a black sweater. He was an attractive man, with grey eyes that reminded her of a hawk, or better yet a wolf.

He stared at her as if he recognized her somehow, but that was impossible. Men like him, didn’t give Lena a second glance. Unlike her sister, or her former friends. He was staring at her, as if he loves her.

Recognition filled him. A pull in his chest, memories rushing back, her laugh, her smile, the way her body shook when wrapped around him. All the things about her that he locked away.

When the fall happened, Lena’s face flashed in his mind. He trained himself to forget her so he could carry on, but the hole she left in his life/heart remained.

There’s a burning in her chest and nerve endings spark. Seeing her favourite celebrity drew anticipation, but this was nothing like that. Nothing compared to this rush of emotions, to finding her missing half.

A sadness filled her for a second, she didn’t even know a part of her was missing until seeing him in front of her. His expression, a mix of stormy emotions and longing. Familiarity washes over her, pushing away any sadness and letting warmth fill her. She already knew his scent, the husk in his voice, the feel of his hands over her.

It happens without words, his body covering hers. Lena’s not sure who moved first through the snow and cut the distance. But she gave herself to him even before he asked.

She pulls him into a kiss, his lips meeting hers and he feels her fingers run over the buzzed sides of his hair before she tangles them into his mohawk.

Lena gave his hair a tug as she deepens the kiss, and he groans against her mouth. He presses his hardness into her thigh and runs his hands down the sides of her body. He thought she were lost to him, forever untouchable and unattainable. He responded in kind, his fingers twisting through her, thick wavy red hair.

“I no longer know who to thank,” Clint heavily refers to his fall between hungry kisses and bitten lips. “But you’re here now. I’m never losing you again.”

He walks her blindly to the side of the house, her back hitting the cold frame of the front door as his mouth descends on her neck. His hands run over her body, leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

“We’ve lost all that time... I’m not losing anymore,” Clint vows.

The wind whips across her faces, stinging her cheeks, reminding them both they’re still outdoors. She feels his hands run past her ass and cup the back of her thighs

“Up,” he commands and with her legs wrapped around him and he carries her inside and, in a blur, he pushes the door closed and sets her down to shed his coat and sweater. Warm air licks her naked legs as Clint kicks away her ripped tights and ankle boots, are tossed over his shoulders before running his hands up her inner thighs.

Her coat hit the floor as she jumps back into his arms. The slight curling edge of the old wallpaper rubs her back as Clint’s hard length settled along her wet folds.

“I missed you, Lena,” dress discarded, and panties pulled away, his words brush against her lips. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Show me,” she begs, so many years lost that are demanding to be restored. Her mind has been made to forget him, but she does remember him. “Show me, Clint.” She calls him by his real name, not Ronin.

Clint slightly pulls back and hesitates for a moment; she feels his muscles flutter under her fingertips.

Deep and rich colored feather edges graze her thighs as Lena wraps her legs around him tighter and encloses them both. His wings are massive and strong, blocking out the fire dancing in the hearth behind him. The feathers are black, with gold streaked through them and at the end of his feathers.

A swift flap and the rush of wind fans across her face as they circle. He perches her higher on his hips before steadily guiding her lower, slowly sheathing himself inside her. Her head falls back against the wall as she stretches around him

“You found your home again,” Clint's deep voice wraps around her. “I can’t wait till we fill it.” As he says that, an unexpected flood of contentment rushes over her at his words, and she allows him to carry her into his bedroom.

He was her home, and she was his. He pushed her onto the bed, watching her with hungry eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He was so beautiful. He moaned against her mouth as her grip on him tightened just slightly but the pressure was driving him wild. "Do you want me?" He asks her lowly after a minute. She looks at him, her breath panting, her core soaked, and she leans in, kissing him again.

When she pulls back, she strokes his cheek. "I want you more than I have wanted anyone in a long time." She kisses him again. "Don't leave me again. Please." He growls against her and feels her grind up against his clothed cock. "Baby, I could never," he growls against her. He bites her lip, causing a soft moan to escape her. He glances at the curtains that are pulled back and then back at her. "Give me a second." He gets up and walks over, pulling the curtains over the windows. At that moment he takes off his shirt and lifts her up, pushing her against the wall. She laughs at his eagerness, but stops her laughing all together as soon as he pulls down her panties, looking up at her with hungry eyes. "I'm about to make this exactly like we did it before," he whispers to her. She nods, fervently. "Please, Clint. I want you so much." He nibbles at her ear before descending to his knees. And within seconds, his tongue was plunged deep inside her wet pussy, his fingers already working at her clit.

He kept a firm grip on Lena's waist, holding her up as her knees threatened to give way, licking, and sucking between her thighs. She cried aloud and tangled her fingers in his hair as his tongue licked her, exploring, and savoring her taste and scent. She'd never been possessed like this before, never felt such a burning need or intense bond. She arched her back in near unbearable pleasure as Clint's skillful tongue probed deeper. "Say you want me, Lena. Please, say you want me and won't leave me?" He asked roughly, stroking her throbbing bundle of nerves with a heavily calloused finger. She almost fell over at the intense pleasure. Clint lowered her on the floor. "I want you, Clint. I'll always want you, Clint," she promised, tugging at his hair as he pleasures her with his tongue. She slid her hands down his body, feeling the rippling muscles, and felt over his abs, before cupping his cock. His cock was hard and hot in her hands, and she heard him groan as she began pumping it. Her dress had been pulled up around her hips, and her shoes were somewhere on the floor.

He pulled her hands off his cock and tangled his calloused fingers into her beautiful locks of dark red wavy hair. Clint traced his calloused, roughened fingers over the softness of her stomach. His mind briefly thought of how much he was looking forward to seeing her carrying his baby in eight months, time. Considering what he was, she would be pregnant by the end of two weeks time.

Lena cried out as he entered her and Clint almost pulled back, fearful of causing her pain, but she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him into her and holding his gaze with a burning passion in her eyes. "Make me yours again, like before," she whispered fiercely, licking his neck, tasting the beads of sweat. "Show me that I belong to you, Clint." Clint didn't need any further encouragement at her words. He buried himself inside of her. He began to move with slow, rhythmic thrusts, taking possession of her, feeling her body drawing him in; her hands running through his hair. Clutching at his shoulders and back as he kissed her again and again, his tongue seeking every curve and line of her eager mouth as the passion built and knotted in his belly. "Mine, mine," he growled roughly, pounding into her relentlessly, feeling very happy at having her back in his arms, as he pulled her legs around him tightly. She could feel him inside her, feel his cock kissing her womb as he bit her neck, squeezed and stroked her breasts. Her teeth bit into the muscle of his shoulder as he roared in hungry lust, one hand tangled in her hair, the other pawing at her face, her breasts, her belly as her own passion responded to his. She screamed aloud, her nails digging into his back, as Clint's hips thrust harder and faster, his growls, grunts, snarls and moans deep and guttural as he continued to make her, his. And within seconds before him, she had come too, her cunt squeezing around his cock.

Clint’s wings wrapped around her tightly, holding her tightly against him and he pulled her into his side. She felt his cock twitch inside of her, making it clear that he was far from finished with his desires for her.

Four weeks later

Clint’s longing and love for Lena hadn’t faltered in the four months since she had come back to him, and he was now watching her getting into bed next to him. He looked down to see Lena had moved and was now curled into his chest, her long red wavy hair fanning over his chest. Her hand was resting over where his heart was, and her stomach was round with their baby. She looked so beautiful and content, while reading a book to their unborn baby boy. He kissed her and pulled away slightly. Clint put away his sketchbook as he thought of how he’d lost her the first time. She had died in his arms, along with their unborn child, because Tony felt he needed to be punished for falling in love with Lena, a human. He already missed her so much and wished that he had gotten more time with her, before. He loved her, and he wouldn’t lose her again. He wanted to touch her now. He was hard as hell. When he claimed her mouth in a tender kiss, Clint was reminded of all the reasons he loved the woman in his arms. Yes, his Lena was beautiful, and kind, inside and out – the personification of her name. She accepted him as he was, put his needs above her own. After losing her the first time, Clint realized now, he wouldn't have made it without her, if he hadn’t found her in the backyard of his farmhouse. Lena deepened this kiss and he simply loved the way her hands slid up his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair. The press of her body against his was the sweetest heat, softness but power and it made him light-headed, had him navigating them a few steps to the edge of the bed. He loved the startled look in her eyes when he took them down, but she laughed when they landed on the bed. Lena trusted him, believed in him. It was in everything from her beautiful eyes to the way she was always aware of where he was in a room. Well, she was certainly aware of him now. The skirt of that nightgown had ridden up her thighs and she wrapped herself around him in a way that had even harder – if that were possible. Clint was as careful with the nightgown, he really was, but he wanted it on the floor along with anything else that kept her being naked and ready for him. Lena's chuckle was a low, seductive sound. "Someone's eager tonight." He'd just got the nightgown all the way down without hitch and he was proud of that. "Damn right." It was a frenzy of movement, Clint peeling the nightgown off and plucking off her maternity bra, her panties. Her beautiful skin was all flushed and pink beneath him and his gaze roamed the bump of her stomach, he thought about that conversation he’d had with her, before she had died the first time. He'd like to see Lena pregnant constantly. Leaning down, he surprised her with a soft kiss to her tummy. Originally, it was all he intended to do before kissing her some more, getting her ready for him. But she was ready and the smell of her was intoxicating. Clint wrapped his arms around her thighs, positioning himself between them. He started with a simple lick from her opening to her clit. It was all he could do to hang onto her, and Clint grinned. Tonight, was going to be good. He dove in, devastating her with everything he knew she loved, that he knew would take her apart. His Lena didn't disappoint him. Her hands clutched in his hair as he teased her with his mouth, enjoying the chorus of her sighs, moans, and breathy little cries until he knew he had her right on the edge. Where he wanted her.

He sucked and moved his tongue like a pro, like it was an instinct, some animalistic thing he had deep inside of him. She was trying to contain the moans, sighs and breathy little cries she had but eventually, they all came out when he rolled his tongue over her clit. She cried out in pleasure, her hands tugging at his hair, but he didn't let go of her hips. His grip was tight, but not too tight as he pleasured her with his tongue. She moaned as he gathered some of her wetness on his fingers, taking her hand in his right hand before slipping two calloused fingers inside her wet core. He could feel her, hot around him, her walls clamping down around the roughened digits. He hadn't touched her roughly with his fingers before, too scared to hurt her. But by the way she was squirming and moaning, he knew he'd made a good decision. Clint continued his ministrations, bringing her to the edge, then backing off, wanting to drag it out as long as possible. He wanted to watch her beautiful face as she came undone, watch her shake as the pleasure rolled through her. And he wasn't disappointed. Her back arched beautifully, lifting off the bed as she spasmed around his fingers. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans at the sight, his name nothing more than a cry from her lips. He smirked, working her through her orgasm before he pulled his fingers from her folds. The sight of her naked on their bed, her beautiful red hair tousled and reaching down to her shoulders. Her face was flushed, her blue eyes sparkling. He'd never wanted or loved someone, like he loved Lena and their baby boy that was growing inside of her. He crawled back up her body, her hand taking his right wrist before lifting his fingers into her mouth. He felt the heat of her tongue against them as she licked them clean. He twitched again, rutting his hips against hers. She moaned a little, her hips grinding against his, trying to get some friction. He pulled his fingers from her lips, pressing a kiss to them before he stood, stripping out of his jeans. He stared down at her as he ran his hand down his hard cock. She was spread out on the mattress, her folds slick again as she stared at him with hooded eyes. He kneeled back on the bed, covering her body with his. He eased himself into her, taking his time to let her adjust. He kissed her jaw, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck until he was fully seated in her. He paused for a moment, resting his forehead against hers, staring down into her eyes before he started moving. Inch by inch he pulled out of her, before pushing back in. He wanted her to feel him. This was about her. He wanted to show her he loved her. How much she and Casper meant to him, and how lost he would be without her or their son. He gradually picked up speed, his thrusts deep as he held her, his hips moving against hers. Her nails dug into his shoulder, but he didn't care. He barely felt it as he stared into her eyes. He saw something flash behind them, before she was stopping him. "Wait." She breathed, her hand on his back stilling him. He leaned up on his hands and knees, scared he'd hurt her. She sat up slightly, causing him to slip from her as she turned, laying on her stomach under him. He remembered how she had once told him, that she’d had really hurt her in this position. In the months since she’d been at the farmhouse, they'd been together, she had never turned her back to him. He hadn't suggested it, knowing her memories of that position. He stared down at her back, the curve of her spine. He could see her shoulder blades sticking out as she gripped the sleeping bag under her. "Are you sure, Lena?" He asked quietly, he didn't want to push her into anything that she wasn't ready for. Lena nodded firmly, her face calm but her blue eyes were firm and determined as she looked up at the man she loved. She must have sensed his hesitation. She reached back, gripping his length before guiding him back into her. He lowered himself to his elbows over her, her hands coming around to grip his biceps. He started moving again, slowly, hesitantly. He brushed her hair over one shoulder, pressing his lips to exposed skin. Clint heard her breathless moans as he sped up, hitting that spot deep inside her with every movement. Her hands tightened on his biceps, her head falling back as he sped up even more, his hips hitting her ass with every thrust. His name was like a prayer on her lips, her back arching as her walls squeezed him tightly. He growled as he hit her g - spot, feeling her nails digging into the skin of his biceps but it didn't hurt. He nuzzled her neck, loving the fact that he was making her feel pleasure in this position that had once caused her so much pain. He could feel his own release nearing, his breath fanning over her back as he grunted into her shoulder. He lightly bit the skin as she came, her walls fluttering around him. She was still gripping his biceps, her head falling forward as he continued thrusting, not taking long to reach his release as well.

The room is covered in darkness, with the moon shining over Clint and Lena. Her skin is pale against his tanned body, and places kisses on her face, neck and neck. "Mine," he growled roughly into her mouth. He moved to his knees, deepening his thrusts all the while keeping his pace slow for her. "Yours, Clint. All yours," she said breathlessly. Clint growled low in his throat as he moved faster. He could feel her coming closer to the edge, beads of sweat on her pale skin. Clint closed his eyes and buried his face in the back of her neck, setting his teeth to her flesh like a dog in heat. Her quiet, breathless moans answered his growls, snarls, and grunts with each thrust. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the quiet room. She tipped her hips up to get a better angle to rub her clit and he pushed deeper, making her cry out. His rough hand traveled down her side. "Cum, Lena." His breathless longing twisted in her. She felt his body tremble, his thrusts ease back. "I-I can't hold back." As he speaks, his wings come out and embrace her. "I don't care, Clint," she said breathlessly, before crying out softly as his calloused fingers pinched, and pulled her nipples erotically. She clutched at his biceps, her red curls catching in the moonlight. His hands slid over her swollen bump, heavy with his baby and if possible, he felt even more aroused by her.

If he had his way, Lena would be pregnant all the time with their children. The thought caused his cock to harden, and he thrust deeper into her.

"I need you to cum, baby," Clint leaned down to whisper in her ear, his heated breath making her shiver. "Please, for me…" Holding his weight off her with one hand, the other smoothed down the swell of her stomach, his fingers eased down into her folds to find her clit. The first brush against her small bundle of nerves had her arching breathlessly under him. His thrusts came faster, and she knew he needed to feel her come apart around him. Now. A selfish lover Clint had never been. A series of teasing touches against the small nub with those strong calloused fingers and he pushed her over the edge. Lena's sharp cries filled the room, tears of pleasure sliding down her cheeks in the darkness. When Lena tightened around him, Clint found his release with her, his body tightening around her and ecstasy written on his beautiful face as he slipped out of her and dropped to her side. Struggling to breathe, her arms around their baby, he eased her onto her side, pulling her in to be his little spoon, his wings cocooning her in his warmth. "I love you so much," he whispered in the darkness. "You've given me life again, Lena. I… didn't know what I was going to do. When I thought I lost you, I just…I'm so happy I found you again."

"I always will come back to you, Clint. You’re my fallen, angel. I love you, and our son. " Lena answered softly, tracing the tattoo on his right arm. Clint nuzzled her neck tenderly, his wings brushing against her, and his placed his right hand over the swell of her bump, as Casper kicked.

Home, she was home with her fallen angel. It was like what Clint had said to her, on their first night together, four months ago. Where she had become pregnant with Casper, who was growing inside of her.

"You found your home again,” Clint's deep voice wraps around her. “I can’t wait till we fill it."

AN: Clint is based on Lucifer in loose terms, and Lena is a young woman that was in love with Clint/Ronin but was killed by God/Tony because she was making Clint rebel. Lena was resurrected but her mind was made to forget Clint, until she reunited with him after falling into the portal.

#JsHauntedHouse2020 #j's haunted house 2020 #dark clint barton #dark clint barton x oc #omen vibes

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plus-size-reader · 4 years ago

Text

Mementos

Shawn Greene x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1264 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Maggie introduces Glenn and the others to the reader, who is basically family.

(Just an idea that I had but not super elaborate or anything)

——————————————————————————————————

You had lost all hope of ever seeing anyone new again.

Frankly, you were sure that the Greene’s were the only people you’d ever be around for however long you were alive, and that wasn’t all bad. In the start of this whole thing, that was all you needed.

Shawn kept you safe, and the chores on the farm kept you busy. In all honesty, you didn’t even really realize what was going on in the city. It was covered in the news, but not much.

Hershel assured you that everything was going to blow over and it would be just fine. All you had to do was wait it out, and you believed him.

...For a while.

You really did think that everything was going to go back to the way it was before, even though that seemed so foolish now. You thought that if you stayed safe and alive long enough, it would just fix itself.

Maybe that was naive. It certainly seemed like it, looking back. People were getting infected, the dead were walking the earth and devouring the living.

The whole idea was stupid, but you wanted to believe it anyway.

Anyone would have, and it wasn’t hard. Between Hershel’s implicit confidence that this whole thing was being blown out of proportion and the news coverage confirming that, you weren’t even all that worried.

Until that proved to no longer be an option.

It was just an accident.

This whole thing had been going on for a few weeks at that point. You figured out later that the dead must have been coming from the cities, running out of food in the more populated areas.

That was why they were here in the first place.

The Greene farm wasn’t in a super populated area, but it wasn’t super far from reach either and it was only a matter of time before they found their way there.

Evidently, one of the slots in the fence fell down and gave a perfect entrance for those things.

It wasn’t the end in and of itself, but it may have well bed.

Anette was sitting on the porch, busying herself with macrame and occasionally sipping on a glass of sweet iced tea when they came, though there was only one at first.

Her screaming was what drew Shawn and the rest of you from the house.

You had been busy painting your toenails, Maggie on the floor braiding Beth’s hair, and Shawn fiddling with the buttons of his flannel shirts which he was trying to get hung up in the closet.

There was so little time to think anything through before it happened, and by the time you made it out into the yard, all you saw was Shawn getting swarmed by three of those things.

If he had been more prepared, maybe with his shotgun or hunting knife, he would have made it but he didn’t have anything right now. All he could do was scream as they tore him apart.

It was a sight you would never forget, not as long as you lived.

Still you had nightmares about it, all this time later. If it hadn’t been for Otis and his quick skills, maybe you would have been next. Hell, you would have been an easy target, screaming and crying in the grass.

...Not that you cared.

You and Shawn had been high school sweethearts, and friends for years before that. You just weren’t prepared for the day that you would lose him, especially not in such a gruesome manner.

Anyone in their right mind would have a hard time processing that, and it took a real long time from that day to even say his name.

Anything you had of his, and anything you two had shared, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at it. It was just too painful and in his absence, the rest of the family seemed to do the same.

It took months for Maggie to even put that picture of him back up on the fridge, along with that pretty portrait of Hershel and Anette from their wedding day.

Thankfully though, you had gotten better at accepting what you’d lost and now looked upon those times you shared and the mementos they left behind gratefully.

You may not have had as much time with Shawn as you should have, but any time at all was a gift and perhaps it took losing him to truly understand that.

Not that you wouldn’t change it if you could.

You would have gladly went back to that blissful ignorance of how well you had it, fighting over stupid things and making him sleep on the couch over petty conversation.

Even in those tense moments, when the two of you fought like an old couple, you knew that Shawn loved you more than anything and you would have died to have that back.

Even now, you were digging around in the back of your closet, searching for that one sweater of yours that you’d tossed away a few years back.

It didn’t fit you as well as it used to when you bought it, but Beth had always loved it and you decided in the past few days that it would be a nice surprise to gift it to her.

However, in the process of searching for it, you found something else you weren’t quite ready for.

From outside the closet, you heard a few voices, one of which you identified as Maggie. You weren’t quite sure who she was talking to but when you emerged, you came face to face with a young asian guy in a baseball cap.

You had no idea who he was, but Maggie's presence seemed to ease your nerves. For him to be standing here meant that she must have at least trusted him a little bit.

“Y/N, this is Glenn, he’s part of the group with the kid, Carl” she introduced, finding you there clutching Shawn’s old jean jacket in your arms, having gotten caught up in it.

A lot of Shawn’s belongings had ended up in your shared bedroom closet after his death and in your search for that sweater, you found that instead.

Though, you did toss it on the bed hurriedly to offer a hand to him. “It’s nice to meet you Glenn” you hummed, eyeing Maggie knowingly.

She hadn’t done this in quite some time, but this was what she’d been doing since she was a teenager.

Maggie liked to get your opinion on the guys she was interested in, and always came to you and Shawn before going forward. She couldn’t get her older brother’s opinion anymore, but you were still around to help her.

“Y/N is part of the family. She and my brother Shawn were high school sweethearts” she grinned, a smile on her beautiful face though there was a tinge of sadness in her eyes.

It was a common occurrence around here, something you were more than used to but thankfully, it only got easier to deal with what had happened.

“Yeah. I’ve got a ton of his stuff still here, if any of you need a change of clothes” you offered, knowing that there were plenty of people in this new group that could use some of the resources you had.

After all, you weren’t really going to use his old t-shirts and jeans for anything at this point.

Though, that jean jacket wasn’t going anywhere. It was the only thing, the one memento you were never going to let go of.

#shawn greene #twd #The Walking Dead #shawn greene x ps reader #shawn greene x plus size reader #shawn greene x reader #twd x reader #twd x ps reader #twd x plus size reader #twd imagine #shawn greene imagine #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead x ps reader #the walking dead x plus size reader

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honeyhan-123 · 4 years ago

Text

The Artist ~ I

Summary: When Steve meets the reader at an art class he immediately becomes enticed and maybe, just maybe, she can help heal his wounded heart.

Warnings: None for this chapter but smut will be present in later chapters

Pairings: Steve x reader, Steve x Bucky

AN: I meant to post this tomorrow but I realised today was Chris Evans’ birthday as well as @jtargaryen18 who inspired me to start writing so I decided to post it early in celebration. This is also the first chapter of my entry to @that-damn-girl pride writing challenge. I would like to say a massive thank you to @imanuglywombat for the absolutely stunning moodboard and @magdaleneruth for being an awesome beta!

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

He couldn’t believe it.

Even watching the flyer hang from the board on the wall with his own two eyes, Steve could barely remember the conversation with Nat that led to this moment as he was sat on a bench outside a classroom for the first time in eighty years.

He hadn’t drawn seriously in decades, probably since before the Battle of New York. The rest had just been little doodles, here and there. Nothing really came from it. But here he was standing in the doorway of a studio, ready for a life drawing class.

Steve couldn’t understand the nerves racking his body—he was Captain America for crying out loud, he’s been in far worse situations than attending an art class.

Why on earth couldn’t he bring himself to walk through a silly little doorway? He was pulled from his thoughts by a soft delicate voice.

‘Excuse me...’ He was pulled from his thoughts by a voice, soft and delicate. His head snapped to the left, his jaw drifting slightly ajar as he took you in. ‘Are you headed inside?’ You were dressed casually, a warm jacket over what was clearly a man’s button down shirt and your jeans had little doodles on the rough denim canvass. Little splats of paint here and there coated the entire look. Steve didn’t know quite why, but he was immediately enticed.

‘I - uh, yeah. I am, sorry I’m in your way.’ He hastily moved out of the doorway, gesturing for you to enter first but you didn’t make a move as your eyes clearly sized him up and he was thankful he had pulled the dark blue baseball cap low over his brow. It wasn’t much in terms of a disguise but that paired with the thick beard that coated his jaw made it harder for the average person to recognise him.

‘Is this your first drawing class?’ You framed it as a question, but it was clear you already knew the answer.

He nodded a little sheepishly. ‘How could you tell?’

‘You just seem a little nervous. Don’t worry, though. It’s really not as scary as it might seem. I remember when I first signed up, I was terrified that someone would say I wasn’t good enough for the class. I could barely keep my hands steady. So, naturally, that turned out to be one of the worst drawings of my life but no one said a word. You have nothing to worry about - you don’t need to prove yourself here.’

‘Anytime, but if you are going to come in I suggest you do it sooner rather than later. Madame Maxine absolutely hates tardiness and it’s nearly seven.’ You gave him a small but genuine smile before you excused yourself, your hips swaying slightly as you walked through the doorway and over to an easel.

He let out a sigh of relief when you’d left - it gave him some privacy to hype himself up and quiet the inner critic screaming his anxieties.Taking a steadying breath, he followed your footsteps and headed for an unclaimed easel towards the back as the rest of the class made idle chit chat, clearly all familiar with one another as they readied themselves for the lesson.

He rolled out his shoulders before sitting on the small stool, pulling his sketchbook and set of charcoal pencils from his satchel. It was a mixed media class and Steve watched in awe as some people set canvases up on their easels, their palets already covered with various colours of paint.

He felt woefully underprepared with his worn leather bound sketchbook and collection of pencils, but it was how he had always drawn. His mother had barely been able to afford the splurge for real drawing pencils, nevermind paints or canvases.

There was a portly man standing in the corner of the room stretching his muscles this way and that, and he figured this must be their model for the day. Most of the drawing Steve had done in the past few years had been of inanimate objects, it was much easier than asking one of his many busy friends to sit still for a few hours as he drew them. If he’d felt more in the mood for a portrait, he generally used photographs as a reference point, so having a real live model would be a nice change.

A few more minutes passed before an elderly woman entered the room. Her hair was grey and her curls frayed out in every direction from the messy bun she has tied it in. She wore a green and yellow bandana around her face keeping her hair away and a matching flowy dress with a dark blue half apron tied around her waist. Immediately, Steve knew this woman had to be Maxine.

She clapped her hands together, drawing the class’s attention as she neared the front of the room. ‘Good evening, I am Maxine Winnefred and I will be your instructor over the next few weeks as we explore the human form. I recognise some of you from my Summer course focussed on the true form of still life in fruits and flowers, and I would just like to say it’s lovely to see you all again.’ She smiled as her eyes rested on those who must be the familiar faces.

‘To the new faces in the room, there are a few things you should know about me.While I do understand everyone has lives outside of the art world, tardiness remains unacceptable as a hard and fast rule–especially where live models are concerned. Secondly, whether about your own piece or someone else’s, I will not stand for any negative thoughts. We are all here to learn and the only way you can truly achieve that is with a positive mindset. If you feel negatively about a particular piece of yours, you must think of it as a stepping stone. What did you do wrong? What can you improve on next time? The human form is incredibly complicated and it may take a while getting used to if you’re not familiar with it.’

‘Since you have all elected to pay for the entire course, if for some reason you are unable to make it to a session, I also run a Thursday night class. You must call me and let me know that you will be attending that class as I will need to make sure there are enough easels and stools. I will hand out my number at the end of class. Are there any questions?’

Although it had barely been five minutes, Steve could already tell he would enjoy this class, especially being under Maxine’s tutelage. She had a no nonsense air that was rare to find in the art world and despite this being a fairly casual, once a week type of get together, Steve knew she took her work seriously. She wanted all of her pupils to be their best.

The room fell into silence as her eagle eye flickered around the sea of faces. When moments had passed in silence, she continued.

‘This is Jerry,’ she held her arm out, becaning the man over. ‘He will be our first model. We will be drawing him for the first two weeks, once with clothes and once without, we will then move onto our next model and the same process will follow.’ Everyone nodded their heads in understanding but Steve felt his cheeks flush slightly. He had known that there would be nude models and he knew that it was all purely professional but still… the small kid from the forties never would have even thought about doing something like this.

‘Right. Jerry,’ she clapped her hands again, eyes locked on just where her model would go in the scene. ‘If you could please get into position A, we can get started. To the class, we’ll have him sit for an hour and twenty minutes. Then another hour after that with a break in between. Somewhere in there we’ll have a vote on whether or not we would like to see a new pose or the same.’ Maxine checked the time as Jerry found his seating on the lone stool in the front of the room. Once he was in position, she prompted the class to begin.

Although he’d been wanting to avoid detection, Steve was deeply regretting choosing a seat so far from the front. On the surface level, his better than average eyesight would be acceptable - and yet, being the perfectionist that he was, he wanted to get up and close with Jerry. He wanted to be able to mark every tiny blemish on his skin, every line of sadness or laughter.

Steve sighed to himself before he picked up his HB pencil, getting to work on his main outline. He hadn’t been working long when he felt a presence at his shoulder, peering over at his work. He’d just finished the vague outline of Jerry’s clothes and the stool beneath him when she spoke. ‘Back in my day, it was considered rude to wear a hat indoors, Mr…?’

He had to at least try and hide his smile over her words, being at least forty years her senior.

‘Just Steve.’ Quickly he swiped the cap from his head, placing it down in his satchel on the floor. ‘I’m sorry ma’am.’

‘That’s okay son, just don’t let it happen again.’ She gave him a small smile before setting off, perusing the pieces of the other artists and Steve got back to work.

His neck ached from the awkward position it had been contorted to for the past ninety minutes. He could feel the muscles in his hand beginning their protest. It had been a long time since he’d drawn so intently and he wasn’t used to it quite yet.

He stood from his stool, stretching out his back as he did so, wandering over to the small table of refreshments after a few moments. He swiped a lemon biscuit from the tray, catching sight of you from his periphery. You were gesturing wildly as you chatted up an older fellow. Your face was the picture of sincerity and Steve couldn’t help but smile as he eavesdropped.

‘One of these days you have to teach me your shading technique, Albert. The way you make a simple shadow have so much depth and colour is incredible,’ you gushed.

‘So long as you teach me how you do the detail work around the eyes. Whenever I try, they just come out looking blank!’ he shot back with a smile on his lips.

‘It’s a deal.’ You held your hand jokingly Albert took it, shaking it vigorously as you chuckled. Feeling his eyes on you, your head quirked in Steve’s direction and you quickly excused yourself.

Steve tried to busy himself and pretend that he hadn’t been caught awkwardly staring at you but your footsteps were growing closer by the second.

‘So? How are you feeling, newbie? Not as daunting as you thought, huh?’ There was a small teasing smile playing along the corner of your lips and Steve couldn't help but laugh along with you.

‘I really don’t know why I was so nervous, but what you said… Well, it really helped. So, thank you for that. I assume you took Maxine’s summer course?’ he asked, trying to make conversation.

‘Yeah, it was a fruit and flower class, plus I also took her winter human form class before that. I fell hard for portraits, so I just knew I had to take it again this year.’ Steve nodded in understanding, taking a class this way was the perfect opportunity to work on portraiture. ‘And what about yourself? I may have snuck a peek at your easel. You have an incredible eye from what I can tell. How did you capture such detail in only pencils?’

Steve felt his face heat as he took your compliment. ‘I’m honestly not quite sure, but I’ve had a lot of practice. Growing up, I was bedridden more often than not and my best friend used to come over and sit with me for hours. I probably know his face better than my own.’ He felt the familiar pang that echoed around his heart every time he thought of Bucky and those days that stretched into nights when all he would do was stare at the other man, trying to capture his beauty on the page. Steve forced himself to shake off the memories to try and keep his tone light. He hadn’t intended on saying something so personal but there was just something about you that made him want to let down his guard and that was dangerous.

‘Really? You were bedridden?’ Your mouth gaped slightly and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes danced slightly down his body. ‘But you look so perfect now - I mean, uh. You look… You look very healthy.’

He smiled, trying not to laugh as dread coated your face. He’s reminded so much of the man he left behind all those years ago…the boy in the back of the car, driving through Brooklyn, although he had to admit, you were far cuter than he had ever been.

‘How long have you been painting for?’ Steve tried to brush the conversation away, he liked talking to you just as a fellow artist and he wasn’t ready for you to recognise him. ‘You’re very talented.’

‘Oh, it’s just sort of a hobby that I do in my spare time. I went to uni and got an Arts degree, but you know how it goes. It only gets you so far in the real world.’

‘If you’re not an artist, what do you do for a living?’

‘I’m a secretary at a law firm.’ He nodded trying to maintain control of his thoughts. Being a secretary wasn’t a filler job for a woman any more. Not like it had been in his day. ‘You?’

‘Oh…’ The question took him completely by surprise and his mind went blank. He needed to think fast. ‘I uh… I work for Stark Enterprises. I’m on his PR team.’ Steve tried to justify it in his mind as it wasn’t a complete lie he was a part of the PR team. Plus, he couldn’t have said he was a scientist or something. It would have been clear he was lying if you asked him any type of even remotely science question.

‘Ah, maybe that’s why you look kind of familiar. Are you a part of his press conferences?’

Steve nodded, feeling his throat start to tighten. He wasn’t ready for this to end. Call him selfish but he didn’t want this to end. For someone to treat him as he was, rather than who he was. He hadn’t felt so at home with himself, with someone else, in a long time.

He was saved from further interrogation by the chime of a bell. The ten minute break was up. The group had already opted to keep Jerry in the same reclined pose, so he quickly found his position and the class returned to their sketching.

While Steve tried to keep his eyes focussed on his drawing, he couldn’t help the constant flicker of his eyes over to where to sat, paintbrush in hand, looking like one of the Greek Muses.

He only prayed you were one of the merciful ones.

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#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #apridec1 #marvel #mcu #steve x reader #honeyhan writes #q it up

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girlmadeofivory · 5 years ago

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Fever Dreams (Jace x Reader)

A/N: So I wrote a short little thing based on a weird dream I had and here it is! Also I really appreciate constructive feedback but keep in mind a binge-wrote this in like 30 minutes ;) Also the reader’s name is Audrea bc if I try to use Y/N I get super confused and it doesn’t work out well at all

Warning: near-death experience

Something around 1400 works but idk

I followed closely behind Jace as we neared the lobby of the abandoned theater.

“All clear,” he whispered.

I stepped around him and quickly drew the unlock rune onto the door and opened it slowly. Thankfully, the hinges didn’t creak. Jace moved in front of me and, to no one’s surprise, a demon leaped at him from a shadowy corner. As he slaughtered it and its companions, I picked my way across the room to the bookcase against the wall. There were cobwebs stretched over every surface and I shuddered at the thought of touching a spider in here. There was barely enough light to see, and I didn’t want to take any chances, so I used another rune to clear the wall of the sticky webs.

“Hey, can you hurry up? I’m literally fighting monsters of hell here!” Jace shouted.

“Hold on, I’m looking for it! Just smash in a window or something, the light should scare off a decent number of them,” I said.

I heard glass break behind me and sighed in relief that Jace had taken my advice. He could be stubborn, especially when it came to admitting I was right, but now was not the time to fight over it. I scoured the bookshelf a little faster, skimming titles: The Magical Upkeep of your New Pet Tiger, How to Paint and Wallpaper: the Warlock’s Handbook, Best Practices for Magical Ironing. Wait- A Complete History of the Mortal Instruments.

“Jace! I found it!”

“Well, let’s fucking go!” he shouted back at me.

I grabbed the book and zipped it into my bag, sealing it with a rune for good measure. I stepped carefully over a few piles of demon dust while Jace opened the door, looking incredibly stressed out. I knew why; this book was the only advantage we had over his father, Valentine, and no one knew how much time we’d have before it was too late to keep fighting.

As I passed a particularly dark section of the wall, a stabbing pain shot through my thigh. On instinct, I activated my seraph blade and slashed at it. A demon’s scream rang through the hall as it turned to dust. The next second, Jace was at my side. My blade slipped from my hand and darkness blurred the edges of my vision.

“Jace-”

**************

I woke up in the Institute’s infirmary wearing only my underwear and my shirt. There was a thick bandage over my leg, and my head was spinning. I sat up in bed and tried to stand, but Jace stopped me.

“Hey, no. Sit down, get some rest. You need to heal up.” Jace felt my forehead, a concerned look on his face

“What are you, a doctor? I just need to iratze it, I’ll be fine.”

“Absolutely not. You’re really, really warm,” he said, pacing the room anxiously.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

Jace turned to me, as if to say something, then shook his head. “Just try to sleep, okay?”

I nodded, and he left the room.

The hall was silent, so I assumed Jace had noise-canceled the door. I laid back, closed my eyes, and let the fever consume my mind.

**************

The air was wet and hazy. Jace walked into the infirmary, wearing just his black jeans and the silver necklace I had given him for his 17th birthday.

“You look beautiful, Drea.” Jace’s voice was softer than usual.

I looked up at him, but before I could say anything, we were standing in the Sanctuary. I wore the white dress I had picked out for my funeral, a “just in case” that all of us prepared for. Jace too was wearing his funeral suit. The white jacket fit more loosely than most of his clothes and hung open, exposing his bare chest. He held me close to him and I leaned into him as heat crawled up my legs. I pulled away to look around the room. Flames licked the walls around us, crackling as the wood panels sparked and collapsed. I buried my face into his neck and felt sweat run down my back.

“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Jace murmured into my ear. “We’re okay. Just breathe. I love you.”

I glanced up at him in confusion, but Jace was gone. The flames raged higher, and I closed my eyes as my vision turned white.

**************

I woke up to voices in the infirmary. I shifted, just barely, to hear them better, then relaxed into the cot to listen in.

“You know why I can’t tell her!” someone whispered intensely. “She’ll beat me up or stop talking to me or some shit!”

“Jace, you have to. Keeping secrets like this is just going to ruin your friendship,” the other voice responded.

So, it was Jace keeping secrets… from Maryse? No, probably Izzy.

“Alec. We’ve been through this. If I tell Drea I’m in love with her she’s never going to talk to me again!”

Wait. That can’t be right. There’s no way Jace is in love with me!

“I know it’s terrifying, but she won’t disown you or anything. You’re her best friend. If that means anything to her, then the most she’ll do is pretend it never happened.”

Ok, so Alec and Jace are discussing Jace’s massive crush on me while I’m in the room. I guess they do think I’m sleeping, but still… would they really be that dumb? Apparently so, because Jace didn’t sound like he was kidding.

I heard the door click open and closed, and whoever had stayed sat heavily in the chair. It must be Jace, because Alec doesn’t sigh like that. Jace doesn’t usually either, but I’ve heard it happen occasionally. Only when he’s really stressed.

I rolled over in bed and sat up, pretending that I had been asleep.

“Audrea, thank Raziel. How are you feeling?” Jace asked. His hair was messy, the way it is when he runs his hands through it a lot. His hands shook a little.

“Uh, fine. Did you have too much coffee or something?”

“No. Well, kinda, maybe. Just, like four cups? Or eight?”

I frowned. “Wait, how long have you been here?”

“Just since we got back from the mission. You’ve been out for like two days-ish? So about that long, except Alec made me take a shower and change.”

“Of course he did. What would you do without him?” I shook my head at Jace, then winced a little at the headache behind my eyes.

Jace was beside me in a heartbeat. “Are you okay? Does your head hurt? Do you want-”

I laughed a little. “Jace, I’m fine. I just need a glass of water. Honestly, I’m way more concerned about you. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Actually, I’m not exactly sure. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. You had a really bad fever. I think you had a nightmare too.”

“Kinda, I guess. We were both wearing our funeral clothes, and the Sanctuary was on fire, and-” I cut myself off.

“And what?”

And you told me that you loved me. “That was it. The Institute just burned down completely.”

Jace faced towards me. “There was kinda something I wanted to tell you, but if now’s a bad time…”

“No, of course, now is fine.” I turned to give him my full attention. He bit his lip, fidgeting with the Herondale family ring on his finger.

“Um… I was planning not to really tell you, not that I don’t think you deserve to know, but like it’s a pretty big deal and I didn’t want to mess anything up and stuff, but Alec said I should, but I didn’t tell him because I don’t trust you as much, it’s just he’s my parabatai and I figured he’d get it, and I had to talk to someone, and I wasn’t sure-”

“Ok, point made. Moving on…”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Anyways, I wanted to tell you… I really really like you. Like, like like you. And I was wondering if you maybe want to go out with me sometime?”

I smiled at him. “I’d love to go out with you sometime.”

His face lit up, and he leaned over to hug me. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Can I kiss you? Sorry, is it weird to ask?”

“To your second question, no, it’s very sweet. And to answer the first...” I smiled and leaned forward to kiss him.

#oc #shadowhunters #TMI #the mortal instruments #jace x reader #jace herondale #jace morgenstern #jace #jace lightwood #jace wayland #i know it sucks but please bear with me #original work

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darlingsdevil · 5 years ago

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Give Me Strength Against All Erosion (Arthur Morgan x F!Reader)

Modern AU

I sincerely apologize, I can’t add read more breaks on mobile so sorry for flooding your feed :(

Warnings: drinking, swearing, the usual

Summary: After a recent breakup, Karen drags you to a party, who you see leaves you reeling.

Words: 3.5k

Masterlist

A/N: I’ve been sitting on this idea for a long time haha, this came to me while writing my other fic, How Time Flies. And ABBA songs.. and for some reason Castlevania inspired this, but mostly ABBA.

Angst, angst, and some more angst. And some fluff. Just a dash.

•••

“He’s such an ass! Come on let’s go get some drinks, let’s go party! Tilly’s party is tonight! Let’s get drunk and forget about him!” Karen pulled you up from the cocoon in your bed. She looked stunning, a purple tank top that accented her cleavage and a leather jacket, a black skirt, fishnets and boots.

You groaned, you were a mess. You had been crying all day, wasting away in your bed. Your bed was littered with candy wrappers and old takeout. You felt like you had binge watched every heartthrob movie on Netflix already. Someone can only watch The Notebook so many times you have learned.

Everything reminded you of him.

“We have to go to her party, you already told her you would go,” Karen whined, she turned to your dresser and started pulling out clothes.

You sat on your bed, hugging a pillow.

“I said that when I was still with him,” You grumbled.

“So? Your life doesn’t end the second you lose a man. In all honesty, it just begins.” She told you with a wave of her hand.

“I don’t think I can go,” You hiccuped.

Karen turned around.

“I know you don’t want to go, but you should. It’ll be fun, and you sure as hell need a drink.”

“I’ve already had a drink.”

“I know,” Karen smiled, continuing with her work creating the best outfit for you.

There was no mistaking the empty bottle of cheap whiskey below your bed.

You watched her, biting your lip. The only human interaction you’ve had this week was giving the delivery man money for the food and abruptly slamming the door on him. You weren’t ready for a party. But a party sounded fun, and you needed some fun in your life.

“Do I have to go?” You groaned, falling back into your bed with a thud.

“Yes.”

“Fine,” You drew out the word.

“See? I knew you’d come around,” Karen laughed, pulling out a shirt and looking at it. She turned to you, holding up an outfit she knew you would love.

You were silent eyeing the outfit. You would look really good in it. You sat up, clutching your pillow again.

Karen said next to you.

“What if he’s there?” You mumbled.

“If he’s there, we’ll show him what he lost.”

You nodded.

“You’ll look beautiful, sexy, absolutely drop dead gorgeous. You’ll give him a run for his money.”

“I will?” You asked, wiping away your tears.

“You already are.”

•••

Tilly’s house was in the outskirts of the city, while your apartment was smack dab in the middle. Karen drove, you felt queasy the entire time. You tried your best to take your mind off it, aimlessly staring out the window or listening to Karen’s (awful) pre game singing.

When the buildings became smaller, and the aspect of the city drifted behind you, you finally arrived at Tilly’s. It was early in the night already, but her house was already booming with music. It reminded you of the frat parties you used to attend. Cars lined the streets, it seemed like everyone in the damn city was here.

“I feel sick,”You blurted out, the house almost looked menacing. You could see the outline of people in the windows, and you knew any one of them could be him.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. If anything happens I’ll be with you the entire time. Mary Beth and Sadie are here too,” Karen grabbed your hand, slowly taking you up the steps, she pulled the door open and you looked out once more to the night sky. Tonight would sure as hell be interesting.

You immediately noticed the wave of people. It was seemingly endless. Karen dropped your hand, noticing Tilly walking up to you.

“Tilly! My girl! I’ve missed you!” Karen hugged her tightly.

Tilly laughed.

“It’s been like, three days!”

“Three days too long!” Karen laughed with her. Tilly held out a drink for Karen and another for you.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Drink it and you’ll find out!” She shouted over the loud music. You took a sip, it was strong as hell, the dark liquid sloshed in the cup.

Karen drank too, nearly spitting it out.

“I wasn’t expecting such a kick,” She laughed.

“John brough it, if you wanna know what the hell's in it ask him,” Tilly said. Your heart stopped, you felt sick again.

“John’s here?” You asked her, eyes wide.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry, I forgot to tell you!” Tilly covered her mouth. You knew she would never deliberately hurt you.

If John was here that meant the entire ragtag group was, including him.

“Is Arthur here?” You asked slowly.

Tilly nodded, biting her lip.

“I’m sorry, I am. I can try and keep them away from you guys,” She responded.

Tears welled in your eyes, you were not ready to see Arthur again.

“I haven’t talked to him, but I saw him earlier,” Tilly told you.

“Do you want me to give Arthur the heads up?” Tilly asked, Karen rubbed your back soothingly.

“No,” You sniffled, you were an absolute mess. But tonight was about having fun, not crying.

“Okay. Well, I can get Mary Beth and Sadie for you, I’m sure they’d love to see you again,” Tilly told you.

“Yeah, that’d be good for her,” Karen said for you. Tilly walked away, looking for your friends. You felt like every single eye was on you alone, and knowing Arthur was in that crowd made you feel somehow even worse.

“If Arthur tries anything, I’ll beat his ass for you,” Karen proclaimed. You knew she actually would. She grabbed your hand again, pulling you towards the kitchen.

“Come on. Let’s go get some more drinks!” She said over the noise of the party. You held your arm close to your chest, you didn’t want to be seen, especially not by Arthur.

You wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to disappoint Karen.

“Karen, my love!” Sean suddenly appeared. Sean. Fuck. He grabbed Karen by the waist. He mumbled something in her ear, they both looked at you.

“Heard what happened between you and the old brute. I’ll make sure to give him a good beating for breaking my girl’s heart!” Sean said, he was drunk as hell, slurring over his words already. Sean always knew how to party.

“Thanks, Sean.” You gave him a weak smile

“I hate seeing you so down, where’s my fun girl?”

“I’m still here.”

��I know you are, but lighten up a little, will you?”

Karen scoffed, grabbing your hand again. Sean was left in dust, wondering what the hell he had said wrong, probably scratching his head.

“He can be such a jerk sometimes,”Karen told you.

“I know.”

You were supposed to have fun tonight, be sexy, live a little, but you couldn’t bring yourself to have fun, with the threat of your newly made ex surrounding you, you were on edge.

The breakup was messy. Arthur received a job out of state, and you were very contempt with your job now, promotions were suddenly coming steadily. You weren’t ready to restart your life in another state, away from everything you had ever known.

It had been a week, or two, you weren’t sure anymore. You were foolish to come to a mutual friend’s party.

He was here, and you were miserable, nearly drunk and crying.

Karen pulled you to the kitchen, she took your red cup, and poured it down the drain. She pulled a bottle of vodka from the counter, pouring you some in your cup.

“God, that stuff was awful. John doesn’t have good taste in alcohol,” Karen giggled, pouring more in your cup.

“It really was awful,” You laughed, your first real laugh the entire night. Karen smiled, handing you back your cup.

You took a sip, it burned, but it would do the trick.

The music boomed from the living room, you were tempted to dance, but not with a cup of vodka in your hand.

Karen grabbed a beer bottle from the cooler on the ground and opened it with a satisfying pop.

“What happens if he tries to talk to me?” You asked quietly.

“Then I’ll swoop up and go full mama bear on him. He won’t even know what will hit him.”

Just imagining Karen smack Arthur was a funny thought.

You sipped more of your vodka, feeling looser and looser. Atleast you weren’t quite as on edge as you were.

Arthur probably wouldn’t be dancing, he was never much for dancing, perhaps that would be safe to do. If he wasn’t dancing, or in the kitchen, where was he? Luckily Tilly’s house was big, she had worked like hell to get it. There was the basement of course, and the backyard bonfire. The dance floor seemed the only safe place.

“Can we go dancing?” You asked Karen.

“Sure, but let’s wait for Mary Beth and Sadie first,” She said, taking a long swig from her beer.

You watched the doorway to the kitchen, praying every person that walked in wouldn’t be him. It was unavoidable of course, but if you were able to put it off, you sure as hell would.

Mary Beth and Sadie entered. Mary Beth was beautiful, wearing a floral romper, black open toed sandals and wavy curls. Sadie was stunning as well, with her ripped jeans and band shirt, she was wearing a leather jacket too, however, not quite the same as Karen. Sadie had French braids in, and a new piercing on her ear it seemed.

Mary Beth gave you a tight hug.

“How are you doing?” She asked you.

“I’m fine, I guess. I heard Arthur’s here, which won’t be too good,” You shrugged, taking another sip from your cup.

Mary Beth’s shoulders went slack, she gave you a sympathetic look.

“We saw him earlier. He looks just as miserable, trust me,” Sadie told you with a wave of her hand. Karen handed her a beer.

“Karen and I will beat him up for you, trust me,” Sadie nudged Karen with her elbow.

“I know you guys will. Mary Beth and I will cheer you guys on from the sidelines,” You laughed again.

“Go Karen! Go Sadie! You beat Arthur Morgan up!” Mary Beth gave her peppiest cheer.

“Who’s beating up Arthur?” A voice asked from around the corner.

Dutch.

Sadie groaned, mumbling something under her breath.

“Be calm, my ladies. I’m just bringing my men some drinks, I’ll be gone soon enough,” He said dismissively.

“Where’s Arthur?” Sadie asked him, glaring at him as he pulled some beers from the cooler.

“Backyard with the rest of us. I’d avoid it if I was you, rest of the guys are cheering him up.”

“Cheering him up?” Karen scoffed.

“Last time I checked, he broke up with her,” She continued.

“That's none of my business.” Dutch gathered his beers and headed for the door.

“You ladies have a good night,” He said while leaving.

“We sure as hell will,” Sadie narrowed her eyes.

Karen and Mary Beth burst out with laughter.

“Let’s go dance!” Karen cheered, pulling you with her. Your cup of vodka was discarded at the kitchen counter.

The dance floor didn’t seem quite as menacing anymore, no wonder they called alcohol, liquid courage. Body’s swayed in the dark mass of people. The bright strobe lights were damn near blinding.

Karen and Mary Beth already began dancing, their arms moving to the tune, body’s swaying. Sadie wasn’t much of a dancer, but she seemed to like this song.

So why weren’t you dancing? You were motionless in the sea of people, your eyes wandering to the screen door that led to the backyard.

You couldn’t see out, but you knew he was there. The music seemed to fade away, almost like falling asleep. You were awake one moment, and you were in the realms of sleep moments later.

The outside looked like a portal, mysterious and intriguing. It was right there. He was right there. You could so easily walk out there and tell him how much you’ve missed him, praying he would take you back.

But Arthur didn’t want to see you. It was over, you were both finished.

It’s like your heart beat with him, like you could feel him just on the other side of the barrier between you.

Sadie shouting your name woke you up from your trance. It was somehow even more ear splitting than the deafening music.

“What?” You shouted over the music.

“Are you okay?” She responded, looking into your tear filled eyes.

“Can we go talk?”

Sadie nodded, pulling you aside, she led you through the crowd to the kitchen again. The only safe place in the house it seemed.

It was much quieter now. Your heart thrummed in your ear like a steady drum.

“Have you talked to Arthur at all?” Sadie asked, leaning against the counter.

“No, not since he broke up with me,” You bit your lip, the words came out choked.

“Well, I did. I talked to him yesterday. He’s not handling it very well. I know you want to talk to him.”

“No, not since he broke up with me,” You bit your lip, the words came out choked.

“Well, I did. I talked to him yesterday. He’s not handling it very well. I know you want to talk to him.”

“What did he say?”

“For starters, he was drunk out of his mind. I had to swing by his apartment to make sure he didn’t die,” Sadie continued.

“Thank you for taking care of him, Sadie.”

“Yep. But, he was pretty much out of it. He mumbled a few things about you, I’d never seen him so distraught. I got him in bed though.”

You wiped away your tears, giving Sadie a hug. She always did give the best hugs.

“I think it would be in your best interest to talk to him. Maybe not tonight, but in the next few days. I think it would bring some closure for the both of you,” She told you.

“Yeah, I think so too. I’m just afraid, what if I can’t do it or he yells at me?” You felt weak, embarrassed that you were acting so fragile.

“Then, like I said, Karen and I will swoop in there.”

“Thank you Sadie, seriously. Where would I be without you?”

“Probably dead in all honesty.” She laughed.

You stared at her for a moment.

“Let’s go dance some more,” You said with newly found cheer.

This time, you led Sadie to the floor. Mary Beth and Karen were still dancing like the goddesses they are.

You swayed to the music, letting your body feel the music. You let go of worry for a moment's notice. The music was uplifting and fast, a song you could dance to.

Worries and fears melted away, in that moment, it was only you and the music. Nothing else mattered. You felt like the only person in the room, above all else.

Karen, Mary Beth, and Sadie were all elated to see you dance like no one was watching.

The song was coming to an end, and you felt yourself slow. Like your veins were stopping pushing blood through your body.

You were coming down from your high, your cloud nine experience. When the music finally stopped, you took in your surroundings. Looking towards the screen door, you saw him.

Arthur was there. In the corner. He was staring directly at you.

You instantly felt sick, you split through the crowd, racing to the front door. It was all too much.

The crowd was left behind, your friends shouting your name.

Anxiety filled your entire body like a virus, taking over every part of your being.

You reached the door, pulling it open, relishing the feeling of the cool air on your skin. It was too damn hot in that house. You slid against the porch, falling to the concrete with a thud.

Tears fell from your eyes freely. A thousand memories, a thousand thoughts rushed through your mind like a tsunami, forcefully upturning everything you had ever known. Your face felt hot, but the cool air felt absolutely wonderful on your hot skin. You tried wiping away the tears but they kept falling. It felt suffocating, like you were trapped in your own body.

The front door opened, letting the noise from the party enter your small slice of heaven. You looked up. Mary Beth, Sadie and Karen watched you with caring eyes.

“Arthur was just coming in for a beer,” Sadie said first.

You rested your head on your knees, looking up at your best friend’s.

“He really was. He didn’t know you were here,” Mary Beth continued.

“I think I just want to be alone right now,” You mumbled, staring out towards the deserted street.

“Alright, well, we’ll come check up on you in thirty minutes, okay?” Karen opened the door, looking at you one last time.

You nodded, continuing to stare at the street. You could see the lights from the city. Your home was there, everything you had ever known resided in that city. You wondered what would have happened if you went with Arthur to his new job, everything would be different, and you sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting on your friend’s porch crying your eyes out at a party.

Minutes passed as the tears rolled on. The lights twinkled from the city.

Arthur was hurting too, you remembered. Neither of you had much of a choice, you still loved him, as much as you didn’t want to, you did. Your heart ached at just the thought of him, your chest felt heavy.

You inhaled deeply, you shook with every breath. The tears kept coming. It was a mistake to come to this party, you would rather be at home in bed, with a bottle of whiskey and ice cream.

The door slowly pushed open. You didn’t bother looking up.

“Nice night, ain’t it?”

You froze, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Go away,” You said, your voice weak.

Arthur was silent, he leaned against the doorframe. You didn’t dare look at him.

“I know you don’t want to see me.”

This time, it was your turn to be silent. You allowed your head to fall against the wall. Arthur sat down next to you. You immediately felt your body tense up, like a big red warning sign was going off in your head.

“But we need to talk.”

“About what, Arthur? What could you possibly have to say to me?” You snapped at him. It was like the words weren’t even yours, anger consumed you.

“I don’t know. I guess that I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry?” You stood up, brushing yourself off, turning away from him.

“You know I had no choice,” Arthur said, almost accusingly.

You scoffed bitterly, you turned to face him. His face shattered your heart, it was like his eyes were begging you to understand. Tears welled in your eyes again as you felt your anger crumble into sadness.

“Where did we go wrong?” You asked him, your bottom lip trembling. All you wanted was a hug, and him to tell you it was alright. You wanted him back in your bed, wanted him to hold you when things got rough, to whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

“I don’t know,” Arthur said quietly. He looked as handsome as ever.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” You slowly walked towards him, your hand reaching up like you were waiting for permission, your hand was right in front of his chest. He leaned into it, and pulled you into a hug.

You sobbed into his chest, it felt so good to just get it all out, he gently caressed your hair. The two of you stayed that way for what seemed like hours. His hug felt so secure, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

“I’ve missed you,” Arthur said. The single sentence held so much meaning, so much depth.

You let go off his warm body, looking directly into his eyes that seemed to peer right into your very soul. God, he was handsome.

“I’m not taking the job in Phoenix,” He said after a moment.

You lightly gasped.

“You’re not?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Why?”

“I realized there’s a lot more here for me than there is in Arizona,” Arthur reached out, and lightly held your chin, forcing you to look directly at him. You slowly leaned into him, your eyes fluttering shut.

It felt like the first time. He kissed you slowly, it was welcoming and intoxicating. Arthur felt like home. He was your home.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes looked like they were swirling, clouded with emotion.

“Can we just go back to normal?” You asked.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” Arthur responded. He kissed you again, this time with less hesitance.

“I missed you too,” You said when he pulled away.”

“I know.”

•••

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x f!reader #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 au #modern au #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 modern #rdr2 modern au #rdr2 angst

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