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yeojaa · 4 years ago

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Dude... What about a devil!jk spending his first valentine's day with her and she's all it's just a dumb holiday and he's all offended cus he's a rooooomantic 🤣🤣

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing. rich boy!jjk x girlfriend!reader. rating. general. tags. the epitome of fluffy angst. wc. 1.4k. beta reader(s). @coepiteamare, @yeoldontknow. ty mucho. ✨ a/n. vday is a capitalist lie and also, this will rip your heart in half then piece it back together. happy 14th of february!

There sits a portrait in the atrium of his heart. A lovely thing, a lonely thing, painted in the shades of your smile, the rouge of your lipstick, the studded dark of your stare. It never gathers dust, prim and pristine, carefully tended to with an adoration that sinks sunbeams into the shadows, sweeps cobwebs away on moth wings.

It’d once been blocked off, locked with a skeleton key, brass tucked behind the cage of his ribs. He’d guarded it like a three-headed dog, barked and bayed and keened quiet in the night when no one else was around. No one enter, he’d said, full of fear, skin of his hands hardened and rough and purpled. The flesh of a fig, hardy and thick, protecting a centre soft and chewy and terribly sweet as it stuck to teeth.

He’d never been bitter - never the harsh white pith of a lemon, never tart like the yellow that burst forth and stung - but he’d been something else. Cautious, worried, scared. Full of love but with nowhere for it to go, overripe and inedible from years of hanging on the limbs of trees left to rot.

And then you’d appeared. Shot across his sky like a comet, brilliant and beautiful and fluorescent, lighting up his life like the burst of a supernova.

You’d drenched all the grey in technicolour, turned paper leaves green, spilled colour into his cheeks. Made them rudied red and full of life, warm warm warm in the curl of your palms, scorching coals under the weight of your kisses. Filled all his cracks with the silver quality of your laughter, honeycomb smile turned gold filigree to piece back all the fragments.

So of course he’d showered you in affection, appeared with an armful of flowers and a smile that rivalled the sun. “Happy Valentine’s day,” he’d hummed, a heart full of hope, hands full of freesias and white roses and enough baby’s breath to take yours away. He thought you’d love it - like you loved him, with unashamed adoration and lines at your eyes, brow creasing with delight. But you’d only blinked once, twice, with a polite turn of your chin, a knife slipped between his ribs and pressed, too gentle for purpose.

You’d smiled and shook your head, caught a petal between your fingers and dipped your nose to the leaves. Inhaled deep and pure and then continued on, moved along, already miles away by the time he’d caught up.

“Don’t you like them?” He’d asked, doubt creeping up, twining around his lungs like a rose bush, heavy with thorns. They’d pin-pricked his heart, spilled his insides out; your bandages were nowhere to be found, no chiming bells or liquid gold in sight. It’d beat for you, in time with you, one to one for each of your own. It’d stuttered and tripped, caught on its own too feet, overeager and delirious. “The girl who helped me said freesias symbolise trust and baby’s breath mean love and—”

“They’re lovely.”

Maybe you’d meant it, for the briefest of moments, in the quiet before you’d crossed the threshold, before you’d swung open the door and turned his efforts to ash. Surely you’d appreciated them - him. Surely you never intended to hurt him the way you had.

“But they’re kind of a waste.”

A heart is a well of impossible depths, an abyss of contradictions and contrived notions. Even the brightest of rays do little to penetrate its darkness. Moonlight filters over the surface in ripples and waves, undefined and blurred. Thoughts without end and often without start.

He supposes he can’t help the way he feels, how his shoulders turn stiff beneath your touch, the set of his mouth worn and sagging, a poorly strung noose tying his lips up. (It feels more like the thing around his neck, tattered and heavy, a reminder of all the reasons the door had been better left shut, sealed.)

“What’s wrong?” You’re a birdsong in his ear, lilting and lovely, impossible to ignore. You hold him in your hands and press kisses to his throat, sear stardust beneath skin, and hum in hopes of an answer. He’s stoically silent, a statue fit not for hallowed halls but mausoleums, stone cold and sad.

Jungkook doesn’t mean for this - for the sorrow that rains down in sheets. You’re a Monday in May, a winding path speckled with flora, springtime. His misery will surely suffocate you, tear life from limb with its torrential cast.

“Nothing,” he says, through the pristine white cage of his teeth, untruths bleeding past enamel and staining them red. He speaks them well, well enough to fool anyone else, well enough that his lies are dressed lily white, stunning in their Sunday best. “Just don’t feel well.”

Hasn’t, since you’d come home, since dinner, since exactly four hours and four minutes ago.

“Don’t lie.” It’s not an accusation, baseless and blunt. It’s coaxing, pleading, whittling away amber, crystallised and hard around the too-soft thing in his chest. A layer of wax giving way, melted by the warmth of your touch, the fire in your eyes. Icarus’ wings, hummingbird wings, monarch wings. Stained glass creaking and cracking beneath the weight of your words.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology lays itself over crushed velvet, spins itself into silk and twines into strands, a braid twisted over your shoulder. It settles, indistinguishable from the salt-sweet, his whisper finding a home within the shell of your skin. He threads his fingers with yours, twists and turns knuckles until they knock awkwardly, unkempt and unsure.

Your sigh is a salve, soothing ointment spread over scorched earth, dulling the sting. He still aches all over, from the base of his spine to the top of his head, a rattle in his bones when he brings you close. It trembles through the both of you, an eruption of emotion felt to the core. (But still, he feels best when he’s with you.)

“For what?”

He thinks and thinks, works himself into a knot he doesn’t know how to unfasten. It coils in the centre of his chest, a slipknot he’s tied wrong, whose tail has been folded in on itself. He grasps at frayed rope, seeks aimlessly for the answer. A tidal wave of emotion sweeps high above his head, an unnamed terror that threatens to upend his rowboat. He settles as the sea does, in breaks and luls that belie something far worse, in a voice small as a drop in the ocean. “For being too much.”

“Jungkook.” The way your voice breaks hits like a thousand pounds, an assault to the back of his knees, a shot to the vulnerable soft of his gut. A sound whines out - another apology - and you swallow it whole, take it in and turn it around, offering tenderness in its wake. “You’re never too much.”

He believes you. He swears he does, even if the words come tumbling out, glass too full to hold them all. “You didn’t like the flowers.”

“So what?” You cradle him careful with magic hands, understanding threaded between each digit. You hold him tight even as he threatens to run away, can’t keep the skip of his stare from doing so. “I don’t need flowers. I don’t need gifts.” (Not the jewels he’d laid in your lap, stamped with an interlocked ‘C’ and nestled within pristine white tissue. Not the flowers that’d poured onto every surface of his apartment, a mountain of blooms with typewritten cards nestled amongst stems. Not the five course meal he’d ordered in, because love and devotion didn’t translate into a masterclass in cooking.) “All I wanted for Valentine’s Day was you.”

Something he’s never heard before. Less an excuse and more akin to you’re enough, echoed in the quiet, repeated in a daisy chain that attaches itself to the end of his thoughts and undoes all the sadness. That unravels him in a single fluid motion and has him melting against you, leaking love from all his undone seams.

“I’m sorry.” This time, he means it as thank you.

“Me too.” And you mean it as I love you.

#incoming.eml #lcksndkys #work.zip #drabble.zip #jungkook.doc #devil.doc

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honestlyfrance · 3 years ago

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first lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

thank you so much @buckyrhodey for the tag!! miss youu 💕

idk what were my last stories so i went deep for these hehe, mostly a mix of published and wips

1. A Better Starry Night (sam/bucky ; horror)

The sky was silent. There’s a thundering crack from down the horizon, heads turning down by the mountainside. It seems to be approaching — faster now.

2. the sweetest tragedy (sam/bucky; mcd) - def a fave of mine!

It's a goddamn tragedy, it's what it is. You love him but he's leaving, high on euphoria with a rank under his name, you're going to lose him in every universe and there's nothing you could do about it.

3. to cease intimacy (sam/bucky ; first date) - this makes me yearn till this day

It's that moment when your heart hitched in your throat and you're unable to breathe freely, feeling asphyxiation nipping at your veins, it’s like you know that your heart was too full of emotion to function right, too much love that sends your heart running a marathon. It was a good feeling, a blissful moment, yet there was that betrayal within it that makes you question your feelings over and over again because there’s that one question running through your head: “Why is it him?” but it’s all good, everything’s peachy-keen because you don’t have to hide it anymore — you had to show it now, however, and that was a wave of dread coming all at once.

4. hug infinitely (sam/bucky ; protective!bucky)

It’s only a fact that you can’t protect who you love from every little inconvenient thing. You can’t fix every crack in the world just so you could breathe easy thinking your love wouldn’t trip. You also can’t make the sun go away so your love can’t get a sunburn on your nice little beach date. It’s miserable thinking that the world just has it’s ways to hurt your love, but that’s reality, and to have it bother you so much, it’s only a tragedy in three acts.

5. falling in love against gravity (sam/bucky ; sam centric) - i loved exploring sam’s experience with flying in this one

Falling was a violent act. You’ll trust the fall with intent so dangerous it’s almost like a kiss with death, and you’ll love it. You’ll love how you can fall backward and have a night with death. You’ll love how you could close your eyes and never open them again. Yet, you fly instead somehow. You fall then you fly, defying the law of gravity.

6. pine (wip name) (sam/bucky/steve ; thirst tweet acc)

The thing is, it didn't happen suddenly at all. They had mulled it all over, understood the risks and consequences. It's dangerous work, and there's no assurance that they'll make it out with their dignity, but what the hell. The 21st century needed more of Captain America and the Winter Soldier pining over the Falcon; let them be.

7. (wip name after mutual heh) (sam/bucky)

Little boys growing up in grand houses and ocean views are the kind of boys who would like adventure, the kind of boys who would yearn for the woods, and cozy little cabins in farms. Instead, December comes and they grow up smoking like chimneys in winter. Yes, little boys grow up and move into cities with blinking white lights, but they always come back seeking adventure.

8. death speaks (they called it kindness) (sam/bucky ; sam centric ; wip)

They say death aches like a motherfucker. Sam Wilson presses on it like a bruise, wanting to feel something before the sensation leaves his senses. He’ll ache for it, flawlessly manipulating it, and sooner or later, he’ll resurface and regret every single bruise he’d made. They say death licks all the wounds of the forgotten faces away, but to Sam, it’s just unforgivable.

9. milkshakes in two (sam/steve/bucky ; stucky fight for sams luv ; wip)

Truth is, love comes in many forms, but the form of a fist fight at a parking lot in three in the goddamn morning, like a modern-day Achilles versus Hector except they both leave with a cut under the eye and a broken nose instead of, you know, a bloody corpse, is just as romantic as leaving cute sticky notes around the house for them to see. It’s even more romantic if they noticed it, but sometimes a romantic gesture such as a fist fight between two supersoldiers need to tilt towards the murder part of Troy before a certain Falcon could notice.

10. field of flowers (sam/bucky fatws drabble 1x03)

When you look into Sam Wilson’s eyes, maybe you might see something surreal. Maybe something you shouldn’t have seen in the first place. After all, the eyes are the window to the soul, wouldn’t it be quite intrusive to look at him so bare?

(yall know my damn first lines are chunky paragraphs long so more below 🥰 )

11. love sweeter than candy, cavities to the heart (sam/bucky)

It’s not that Sam despised the idea of it, in fact, he breathes it in like cocaine, feeling the rush and instant fall of his senses, and maybe it’s not actually drugs to him but maybe something milder, like, a kiss, one that is so slow and soft that it makes him scream at the deprivation, making himself aware of how desperate he just was about touch, literally any sort of touch, but then again, it’s Sam we’re talking about; suppressed and no-nonsense, he couldn’t possibly want something so good like some cliche grand romantic gesture that is too cheesy for its own good, and maybe it’s for the best that he keeps quiet about this want because it’s not like he gets it every day.

12. Partners (sam/bucky)

It was in the bathroom of a safe house that Sam Wilson finds himself bandaging himself up. There was a small gash on his forearm from the afternoon before; it ran down from below his shoulder blade to above his elbow, but it wasn’t as deep as it should be, just looking quite raw but wouldn’t need any serious stitching. He’s been washing the same spot with clean water from the faucet for the past solid half hour, the sound of water gushing echoing in the tiny bathroom.

13. oranges in october (sam/bucky) - this one!! this!!

You’d think that just because he had wings and he flies, that makes him an Icarus. Icarus fell to his death. He did not resurface, he did not live beyond that power. Sam Wilson soared high into the missiles of war and came back battered and red, dripping love and death as he stands in the aftermath of it all. You think he was an Icarus when he was actually Apollo. Anyone who gets close to him falls to the ocean waves, then sooner than later, he’s left singing eulogies as his heart rattles in a cage.

14. It Rains Every April 10th (sam/bucky; mcd) - this too! ive been told by someone that this was the most accurate desc of depression theyve seen

Depression hits like a wave on a cliffside — sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you didn’t see it, and sometimes you just let it happen. It sometimes gnaws at your skin, always there, but more of a ghostly hand hovering over you; there’s that presence but you think you don’t have enough proof to prove it existed. Times like these you try your best to move but you become unmotivated, absolutely immobile except for the moments your body decides to exhaust itself for unrelated things you shouldn’t be doing. It takes a toll on you you wouldn’t even realize, and even then, who else realized it? You’re just tired. You don’t cry. You’re just tired.

15. to hold dear (sam/bucky)

Bucky Barnes didn’t want a lot of things. He’s got a really low bar of standards now, even just waking up without a threat on his life counts as a win. He doesn’t even mind if there wasn’t any more soap in the bathroom; he’s just glad he’s got a shower in the first place. Breakfast? God, he’s just glad that he could walk around a house with his guard let down.

i have no more (:

tagging: @enchanted-lightning-aes @siancore @pianistwriter80 @glittercake @lesbians-love-samwilson @mariahthelioness29 @rhodeslabs @lovelyirony :)

#sambucky #got tagged

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cassiecasyl · 4 years ago

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bittersweet surrender (everything is better now)

My first contribution for @whumpay2021!!

fandom: mcu relationship: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes warnings: self-harm, nightmares/flashbacks add. tags: Bucky Barnes has PTSD, Alternate Universe - Angels, Angel Sam Wilson, Angel Bucky Barnes, Recovering Bucky Barnes, Alpine and Redwing as their pets

prompts: Day 9 - gentle/brutal + Day 10 - screaming/silence

note: this fic is based on a headcanon i have about angel wings which i’ve previously written about in this series. I have pasted some paragraphs at the start for better understanding, but I still highly encourage you to check out the original series!

Read on Ao3.

“What are those lights?” Dean eventually asked, wonder and admiration on his face, an expression he hadn’t worn since his childhood was stolen.

“The plumage of an angel possesses a glow specific to the angel,” Castiel explained. “Sometimes, when the angel is around someone they especially trust and care for, this glow manifests in those particles. Nobody really knows what they actually are.”

“They look like fireflies,” Dean stated, but his eyes spoke of a question he was too afraid to ask. Castiel chuckled and agreed before he whispered a little word in Enochian, increasing the expression on Dean’s face. “What was that?”

The angel repeated the word, louder this time. “That’s what they’re called,” he clarified. “It means sparks of emotion, which is contradictory since angels aren’t supposed to feel. With the absence of a soul comes the inability to feel, but somehow, emotions found a way into our beings. These fireflies, as you call them, especially respond to strong emotions, but somehow they don’t resonate with hate, which is one of the strongest emotions. Usually, they show when an angel is around someone they,” Castiel made a quick pause, almost unnoticeable to those who didn't know him, “... love. Those little traitors.”

- After the Flight (The Meaning of Home) by @cassiecasyl

~~~

The poison entered him from the veins in his left arm. It’s still bleeding from the impact, and Bucky thought he saw flashes of bone the few times he’s able to blink his eyes open. He groaned in pain, instictly flinching away from their hands, but his body lay still, obedient. It burned through his system, alighting his insides, flames infecting his body and soul.

Humans always thought of hell as a pit of fire you’re thrown into, or the stake they’d burned witches on. Bucky knew better. Hellfire devoured him from inside. The souls of future victims screamed a haunting melody as they burned.

He remembers being a comet. His wings caught fire in the wind, the Earth rapidly approached to greet him in a lethal hug. Feathers danced back towards the heavens, hopelessly holding out for a home lost.

The inferno inside reached them now, igniting them anew, as if they weren’t injured enough already. It blazed through his grace, touching the very essence of his being, triggering what should never be forced. Tiny blue orbs sprang from his plumage, fighting their artificial light, reflecting in the tears streaming down his face. No. They couldn’t.

A nasty smile echoes in his mind, darting around forever. His heart sinks as his love sings, but he doesn’t feel it. They jab into his arm, cutting something off. He is a machine, easily reconfigured. No. They fill him with foreign hate, and it burns what’s left of him. Blue turns inside out, ablazes in orange before glaring at him in red. Bucky screams.

He screams, but there’s no sound, so he tries again, and again, and again, to no avail. His body is no longer his own. They control the very air he breathes, control the function of his lungs. He could die, here and now, and his body would be none the wiser.

Blood fills his mind, darker than his corrupted sparks. It is splattered all over the place, all over his face and on his hands. He is shaking inside his stoic cage. A tainted feather falls onto the ground, further painting itself with blood. It is surpringly light, considering the state of his wings. They are darkened with ash and charcoal these days, and covered in the grey mud only snow produces.

Winter. That’s what they call him.

He comes when it’s most inconvenient, and leaves only coldness in his wake. Wherever he goes, suffering follows, and even the trees shake with fear. None of them hear him scream.

He tries and tries, screaming until he swears he can feel blood in his throat, and then some more. Louder. Nobody even flinched. Louder. Why didn’t his mouth move, why were his tears only an extension of hellfire? His eyes burn, but winter freezes him before a tear ever leaves his eyes. They are as trapped as he is. Bucky screams, because that’s all he could do anymore. He screams over the roaring flames and the souls haunting him. He screams, but it never passes the barrier of his skin.

Bucky screams.

He screams until another voice joins him. “Bucky!” It was familiar panic, or worry. Hands collide with his freezing skin, and it’s burning again, oh god, they’re burning him again. He doesn’t even remember what he did to deserve this. Bucky kicks and flails, blind because they control his eyes, but his body is his.

A scream thralls through his ears and he stops and opens his eyes, every nerve on high alert. The dark room seems familiar, but Bucky can’t quite place it. There are shadows playing with him, and the moon, ever the creep, smiles into the window. A night light burns on the nightstand on the other side of the bed.

Brown, worried eyes catch his. Bucky stills, breathing heavily. Sam. His wings are angled slightly in alarm, showing their light brown freckled underside. He relaxes as Bucky stares, the hellfire and ice slowly replaced with softer warmth.

Hazel fireflies surround Sam’s wings, standing out more now that he had closed them. On the upside, his wings are colorful; his primary feathers are black and white, covered by grey secondaries. In the middle, they meet his back in a golden brown, blending into his sepia skin. He is beautiful, hoping eyes a promise of home, sparks untainted by hate.

Bucky reaches out, daring to search for contact, for comfort, slowly enough to ask for consent. Silver light reflects on his metal arm, and he is back there, with them in his veins, no, cables, controlling, controlling, controlling. Bucky recoils, scared of what his hands will do when they meet Sam. He can’t hurt him.

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t—he already did. Red splotches obstruct his vision, much like the blood he shed when they first met. When the hate still fueled him, rage dancing in his bones, hellfire in his veins, so hot it’s freezing him. When his sparks were still tainted red, a supernatural beast scaring its next victim just for fun. Nowadays, they usually don't show at all. He’d lost them to the winter.

Though, he means to see their glowing eyes in the corner of his own. He shudders, unsure whether his body follows the motion. No. Bucky shakes his head as he fights against the ice in his lungs. He can’t hurt Sam. Not again. Blood fills his vision, or maybe the moon hides behind clouds, too scared of the monster he is. Too scared to witness a murder between lovers, because one can’t trust his mind. His mind that screams for blood.

Blood, blood, bloodbloodbloodblood—

Pain stabs through him and he stills. Bucky blinks, looking into worried eyes that break his heart. He’s so sorry. The air he sucks in is a weird mix of warm and cold, of dry heater and cold night. He stares again, and thinks that maybe a tear escapes his eyes. He’s still an angel, not a machine. Machines don’t cry.

His hand must’ve found his wings, because that’s where the pain pulses from, sharp and attentive. There’s blood on his hands, but it’s his own, so it’s okay. His fingers graze another feather, thumbling on it and pulling slightly. It was the only thing he could do. Tears run down his face, weirdly warm - everything he is, is frozen, so why aren’t they? - and dropping to his chest and he knows he can’t stop them.

His shaking fingers lose grip on his soft plumes tainted with blood, and he desperately tries to get it back, to get it under control again, to just feel what he deserves— A hand stops him, burning him with the contact. It’s not letting go, even as Bucky struggles against it, but carefully leads his hands forward, away from his wings. Bucky looks up at Sam, blinking through the tears and an apology on his tongue.

Sam wraps his arms around him and Bucky falls into him as he melts. “It’s alright, you’re gonna be alright,” he assures him, and Bucky latches onto it as he rides through another wave of tears. Sam’s warmth is so drastically different from the one he dreamed about— comforting, soothing, calm, safe. He nudges his head into the crook of Sam’s neck, breathing in his home and the sweet nothings Sam hadn’t stopped saying.

“Hey, remember when we were racing in the sky?” Sam asks as Bucky’s breathing steadies. He continues after a moment as it becomes clear that Bucky won’t answer—but the fallen angel doesn’t feel judgement coming from his lover. “And the sun kept hiding behind clouds, so you decided to be Icarus?”

Bucky chuckles. “And you almost flew into a bird,” he recalls.

“Almost,” Sam repeats, chidingly, but not without a smile in his voice. Bucky glances up at that. Before, he had been staring into nothing, too afraid to look the other angel in the eye, but now, all he could see was the homely beauty. The moon’s cold light clashed with Sam’s warm skin tone, darkening it like a sunset.

“Anyway, you flew past the clouds and you would’ve flown into the sun, if I hadn’t caught up to you in time.” Bucky grins up at him. He remembers that day. It was one of the the first time flying since he’d escaped, and the first time he’d made it that far up. By the time he was past the clouds he was positively basking in the sun’s glory and in happiness. And then Sam came, almost golden in the sun, and his luck had been complete.

“If you’re trying to use this story as a moral, it’s kinda working,” Bucky teases, reveling in Sam’s snort. Right when he wants to cuddle closer, they’re interrupted by an ear-shattering screech that’s trying to impale Bucky’s sensitive ears. Sam just sighs as the noise is followed by a cat hissing.

He rubs over Bucky’s right arm before he quietly stands up, and Bucky whines at the loss of contact, at the warmth leaving him. It’s cold without Sam, but he keeps the thoughts of winter at bay by ignoring the moon in favor of watching Sam open the door. He quickly ducks as Redwing shoots through the opening, and almost stumbles on Alpine in pursuit. The cat has his eyes keenly set on the bird, who is now circling the ceiling in panic, calling out again. Bucky chuckles.

He welcomes the cat as he jumps onto the bed and lies down next to his angel. Bucky’s hand automatically finds its way to the soft and fluffy body, petting him until purrs erupt. He laughs at Sam’s exasperated face as he tries to get his bird to land or just calm down in general.

“You really gotta teach your cat some manners, old man,” Sam tells him and he laughs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky grins innocently. Sam rolls his eyes in response, but the smile playing on his lips isn’t missed to Bucky. Redwing finally lands on Sam’s shoulder and the angel gently offers his hand to him. The bird nuzzles it, chasing the darkness it brings.

Bucky watches them. He’s staring again, he knows that he does it a lot - Sam keeps pointing it out - but he can’t help he lopsided grin his mouth morphs into at the sight of his family. Alpine had fallen asleep, his fur tickling Bucky’s belly. Right here, at this moment, he is happy. It is weird how fast his weird little family cheered him up.

Sam looks back at him, his dumbass bird on his shoulder, his eyes undecided between annoyance and love. He thinks his heart might burst with all the love it’s not used to holding. There’s a new light there, suddenly, blue and frazzling. Bucky blinks, trying to chase it from the edge of his vision. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

But then Sam’s whole face lights up. He moves forward slowly, as to not scare Redwing again, and sits down on the bed. Bucky quickly glances back to the side, and then does a double-take. There, caressing his damaged wings, are a few little blue orbs. He cries out in surprise, covering his mouth, tears returning to his eyes. This isn’t real, he tells himself. It couldn’t be. They’d turned them red, replacing all he had with their hate, but now his body is brimming with love instead of hell.

Bucky looks back at Sam, and sees understanding love reflected back at him. He reaches out, closing the distance between them until their lips meet in a kiss. The warmth is overwhelming, but Bucky doesn’t want it to end. He got his sparks back, he was no longer corrupted, broken. He was happy, sappy enough to cry joyous tears as he kisses the man who made all of this possible, who was the reason for all that was good in his life.

“Thank you,” he whispers in-between kisses, his heart jumping with every beat, dancing in love. Blinking blue mixes with soft hazel, creating a stylised night sky, completed by the colors of their wings. Bucky puts all the overflowing love into the kiss, his hands flailing to get Sam closer, and Sam returns the favor.

But then, Bucky moves the leg against which Alpine is resting. The cat wakes up instantly and voices his complaint in a confused meow. He breaks the kiss, softly chuckling into shared air before leaning back to take care of his fluffy child, leaving Sam to do the same with his feathery kind.

~~~

taglist: (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!) @starrynightdeancas @spookyscarykittycat @sherlock-who-mentalist @lost-lunar-wolf @aniridescentdreamer @aixabi

#sambucky #self-harm tw #nightmares #angst with happy ending #hurt/comfort #fluff #angel au #Whumpay2021 #my fic #tfatws

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ppersonna · 5 years ago

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vacancy. - kth (part two)

touch me, yeah. i want you to touch me there. make me feel like i am breathing, feel like i am human - a little death, the neighbourhood

summary- spending the night with taehyung was like standing too close to a fire. the warmth, pleasant at first, became a ravaging inferno soon after.

rating- R/NC17

word count- 4.8k

pairing- taehyung x reader

genre- smut, angst, fluff- idol!au

warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), slight dirty talk, real emotional shit, creampie, cum eating, real tiny breeding kink if u squint, crying

a.n- okay so the first part was supposed to be a one shot but yall loved it too damn much i had to write another. this is for u, anons and commenters.

part one

It had been over a year since you heard from him.

You were an unwilling audience to his every move, his travels around the world and dazzling concerts seemed to follow you. His face, that gorgeous and heartbreaking face, was everywhere. Billboards, advertisements, commercials.

It was as if the world was mocking you, reminding you of what you came so close to grasping only to have it fall through your fingers.

You were Icarus; he was your sun. You flew too close on wings of wax, melting against the heat, and fell down into the sea and drowned in your sorrow.

Tae hadn’t called you in over a year now, no communication save for a few ‘likes’ on your twitter, enough to keep you salivating for more. The last time you fucked him surely had to be the last. It was the only time he’s ever told you he loved you explicitly. All other occasions he would imply it, hint at it, but this time he had come right out and say it. It must heave meant the ending of it all.

You tried to piece together a life without Tae, while his image and memory of fingertips on bare skin remained burned into your skull. You were sure Tae was imprinted into your DNA.

The ringing of your phone shot you out of bed at 3 am. Your heart surged. No one called you at 3 am. No one except him.

“I need to see you tonight,” he breathed. “I miss you so fucking much.”

Tears slipped down your face, your crying clear to the man on the phone.

“Please, don’t cry, baby. Let me take care of you.” he whimpered.

You agreed, finding yourself powerless and unwilling to deny him. You were never successful in the past. Why would it work now? Instead, you could melt away for an hour in blissful escapism. It was better than lying awake in the middle of the night with heartache.

Taehyung agreed to meet you at your apartment. It was a first. He usually required a meeting at any of the half-dilapidated motel rooms on the edge of town. He wanted to hide when he was with you, be away from the prying eyes and flashing cameras. At least, that’s what he told you.

To you, it felt like he was too ashamed to be seen with you.

It felt like hours before the knock came at your door. It was light, quick. He wasn’t trying to draw attention to himself. You slipped a black robe over your naked frame. You knew what he wanted, why bother covering it for his sake? You checked yourself in the mirror of your hallway. No makeup, hair in a messy bun; not the picture of elegance and sex you tried to maintain around him.

He was breathless when you opened the door. His eyes searched your body and landed on your face as he sighed. He held so much light optimism in his eyes. You hoped he didn’t see the darkness plaguing your own.

“I miss you,” he whispered as he pulled into your embrace, holding you against him in an innocent hug. The door shut, and you stood in the hallway with the captor of your heart, soul, hugging him as if letting go meant he would disappear.

“What’s the matter, Tae?” You questioned, pulling back from his embrace to seek his eyes. “You never come over here.” Your face flushed. You were embarrassed. You felt more like his call-girl than the woman he claimed to love.

“I needed to see you, so fucking bad,” he pleaded. “I need to feel you again.”

His lips planted delicate kisses along your throat. Your eyes closed against the contact of his mouth on your skin.

You wanted to question him more, desperately ask him what had him acting so feverish, so obsessed.

“Can we go to your bedroom? I’ve always wanted to make love to you there,” he admitted, pulling away from your neck and resting his forehead against yours.

Make love.

The very words incinerated your gut.

“M-make love?” you babbled, confusion apparent.

He nodded. “You didn’t think I stopped loving you, now, have you?”

Instead of letting you answer, he pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was desperate, aching to draw you in, consume you, become one. You had never felt this level of passion from him, never felt so desperately wanted. You didn’t want to admit to yourself how thrilling it felt.

Could you pretend? Could you imagine that he was taking you to bed after spending all day with you, cooking and cleaning and enjoying your company? Would it hurt you in the end?

Did it matter? It all would hurt. You thought you may as well enjoy it in the meantime.

You could easily imagine the press of his lips as a kiss from your boyfriend, your husband, the father of your children. You had imagined it for years now. The ease in which your mind could slip into the fantasy was downright terrifying, but you found no resolve to stop.

“Let’s go,” you murmured, pulling him down the hallway and towards your bedroom. Taehyung stopped only a few moments, to take off his shoes, to press you against the wall to kiss you, to gaze at your bedroom decor.

He peered around the room, smiling at the pieces hung and framed on the walls. Photos of loved ones, framed artwork, a photo of him. A bouquet of roses hung upside down from the ceiling to preserve them, and Tae recognized it as the same he bought you the first time you met. You had been so full of excitement, never knowing that the promises the man would make would never come to fruition.

You sat at the edge of your bed and allowed Taehyung to absorb the room. He had known you for over 3 years now and still never seen your house, let alone your bedroom. A person’s bedroom was a glimpse into their soul, you believed. And it only made sense for Tae to know you, to consume you fully. You could not fight against him any longer. It hurt too much.

He turned towards you and slid forward, finding himself kneeling between your knees. He grasped your hands within his own.

It surprised you that Taehyung was not eager to undress you and slip inside you. He normally wasted no precious time.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. His brown eyes filled with unspoken regret. “I’ve treated you so poorly.”

You felt lost for words. He had never voiced this before, and you weren’t sure why he was now. Was he ill? Dying?

“Tae, you’re scaring me,” you admitted, nibbling at your bottom lip.

“No, please, I’m sorry,” he released a hand and cupped your face. “Please, don’t be frightened. I love you.”

Your bottom lip wobbled, tears threatening to spill over now.

“Please, let me show you,” he begged. “Let me prove to you my love.”

You wanted to explain that no amount of sex could prove his love, if it meant he left before dawn. But you couldn’t find it in you to voice it.

“Okay.”

He kissed at your thighs, innocent pecks around your knees and shins, before working back up towards your barely covered center. The robe danced on the tops of your thighs, and his deft fingers untied the belt to pull it off.

“It’s been so long, I’m so sorry,” he nearly wept as he pushed your thighs apart to expose what he sought. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

His penitent behavior was confusing, yes, but a balm to your aching wounds. Perhaps you could allow yourself to fully immerse in the vision of your beloved, your committed lover, making love to you.

“Taehyung,” you murmured, lifting his face to look at yours. “It’s okay.”

His eyes, filled with so much emotion and intention, slammed into you like a head on collision.

Taehyung continued his plight of kisses up and down your thighs. He gently pushed you down to lie on the bed and pulled your legs open even wider.

“Going to prove how much I love you,” he murmured, reminding himself as much as he was reminding you.

His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your folds, as if it were an innocent place to peck. Every move he made was full of sweet intention. He wasn’t here for a quick fuck. At least, that’s what you hoped. He was here to show his devotion in the way he best knew how to.

“Taeeee.” Your sigh was light and lovely to his ears.

“Let me adore you tonight, my love,” he murmured before diving in to kiss at your clit. It overwhelmed you immediately, missing the touch and skill of the man now devouring your core as if it were his last.

He dipped and swirled his tongue around the engorged numb, ravishing it with his tongue. You were so responsive, so sweet in his mouth and in his ears. You tasted like champagne. He adored that about you.

He pressed on, allowing himself to make love to your folds with his mouth with no abandon. He suckled your clit, massaged it with circular strokes, dipped a curious tongue in your wet channel, and slurped in such a vulgar way it had you gasping.

Tae was skilled with his mouth, he had proven that over the many years, but now he inhaled you. He left no part of your cunt untouched, unloved. His fingers slid into your heat to reach where his tongue could not. He needed to see you come undone by his love, alone.

You were so vocal in your replies to him. Soft screams, gasps, whimpers. You twisted at your nipples, desiring the stimulation that came from the pain. He watched you eagerly, mouth still working overtime to bring you to completion. You were artwork, the finest and most priceless. You deserved to feel beautiful, and loved and he desired to give you it and more on a silver platter.

“Right there,” you whispered through harsh pants. The edge of your orgasm was approaching, threatening to spill over. Tae refused to slow down, and engaged himself more acutely to your trembling quim. He sucked onto your clit harshly, swirling it in his mouth as he fucked you with three fingers. You coated him, completely. He wanted to leave your essence on him forever.

“Yes, cum,” he coaxed. “Cum for me, love.” His eyes were brimming with fire, with passion.

A zigzag motion of his tongue and quick curl of his finger towards your front walls sent you careening over the edge of pleasure. You cried out loud, tears slipping down your cheeks in sheer amazement of the sensation coursing through your veins, through your cunt. You milked him eagerly, muscles pulling his fingers in to you. You never wanted to retreat from your high, head spinning in the clouds. Your walls clenched in time to the pounding drum in your ears.

Tae lapped at the slick that coated his fingers, cleaning up any mess that might have been left on the sheets. He wanted every single ounce of you.

You came back to reality to find Tae sucking on his fingers, a salacious smile on his face as he continued without stopping.

“The sweetest,” he complimented, removing the cleaned fingers with a ‘pop’.

The prettiest blush Tae ever saw tickled your cheeks. He was determined to see that again before the night was through.

He kissed up the valley of your thighs and peppered kisses and bites to your abdomen and ribs. He marked you, feeling as if he was sacrificing to the pyre of your solicitude. He trailed to your breasts, sucking on the pinched nipples, encouraging more moans to slip through your pink lips.

Your hand immediately flew to his silken locks, threading through to grasp yourself to reality. Your chest still heaved with the aftershocks of powerful completion. He sucked and bit at the nipples so hard they darkened with bruises, blood blooming just under the surface of the skin. They told a story; you thought. A story of desperation, wanting to give a piece of you and maintain a piece of him.

You were desperate to get him naked, feel the satiny smooth skin of his chest and length. You tugged at his t-shirt and easily complied, allowed the material to slide up his chest and onto the floor. He kissed your lips, a hand still stroking and teasing a nipple.

Tae’s eye contact had you mesmerized. He was hypnotizing, and you were sure you’d never felt such an intense connection in any coupling you’d had together.

After discarding his shirt, you moved to tug at his jeans. Tae didn’t want to put up a fight tonight, didn’t want to tease out anything when he’d rather give in to you. He assisted you in your fight against the denim confines and pushed them down with his boxers.

Your eyes widened at his speed, knowing Taehyung aimed to make you work for his nakedness. Now, he gave in at your simplest request.

He couldn’t stop kissing your lips. He felt like he would cease breathing if he wasn’t attached to your mouth. He mumbled his love against you, his words circling your body and sliding into your cunt with how good they sounded. You were sure that Tae could coax an orgasm out of you with the rich baritone of his voice alone.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered and kissed at your cheeks and jaw. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to prove it.”

He guided his cock to your folds. He allowed the head to graze your slit, weeping with your first orgasmic ruin.

“I love you, Taehyung,” you murmured and kissed him soundly. At the touch of your lips, he slipped his cock inside your quim, tensing around him. He delighted in the gasp against his lips, feeling just as enthralled by the sensation. Your muscles squeezed around his length, wrenching a loud groan from him and pulling his lips away to watch the way your pussy took him. He wished he could take a video, commit this moment to memory somehow. The way you accepted him, allowed him respite inside the safety of your womb, captivated him and made him weak.

Taehyung started a quick thrusting rhythm, holding you tight against him as you mewled your satisfaction and confessed your undying ardor for the idol plunged in your depths.

“My sweet, I never want to leave you,” he whispered. “I would stay buried in you every single day if I could.”

His words hit you like a piercing arrow. A clean stab through you, no shrapnel, no fallout. If this was to be the way you died, you welcomed it with open arms.

Tae’s cock filled you to the brim and his gyrations made your clit feel as if it was vibrating. His thickness stretched you to the limit.

He looked back into your eyes, memorizing every freckle and feature of your face, and never allowed himself to break away from your gaze.

He loved you. He loved you so intensely it scared him. What started as a fun romp behind locked doors became the ultimate expression of his desire to complete you, to allow you to own his body and soul. You ensnared him, and Tae was loath to escape the silky tendrils you had wrapped around his heart.

He quickened his pace, angling his hips to hit the spot within you he knew would make you arch and keen for more. You did so, proving his theory, and gasped his name, begged for more. He trailed a finger over your combined coupling, feeling the way his cock speared into you and retreated, covered in your slick. He paused there, relishing in the feel, before slipping up to your clit to tease figure 8’s around the nub.

The pleasure coursing through you felt like an electrical storm. Every ounce of practiced pressure he applied to your body felt amplified, raging like thunder.

You wanted Tae’s cock to stay within you, never retreat, never escape. You gasped as his finger trailed over your clit and up and down your slit. Your eyes were bawling tears now, overwhelmed by desire and passion and unadulterated love. Tae had fucked you, Tae had given you nights of endless pleasure. Now, you knew, Tae was making love to you, with you. His member was not just fucking into you, but affixing all the pieces of your broken heart together again. He maintained eye contact with you, never straying. It was intense; it was exhilarating.

Kim Taehyung loved you. You no longer doubted it, no longer second-guessed. There were still too many unanswered questions, but you solved the largest piece. Taehyung was in love with you, and there was no way you would forget it.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching again, threatening to knock you over. You babbled his name, crying against his lips as he kissed you thoroughly.

“I love you, I love you,” he repeated, constantly. “Cum for me. Please cum for me.”

It was as if he only needed to ask, because your body complied immediately. Your back arched impossibly high as you rode through the contractions and pulses. Tae moaned with you, gasping at how tight you clamped around his cock, how deliciously you molded around his entire length. You looked beautiful, falling apart by him and him alone. You were his, as much as he was yours. He could never stray far for long.

Your pussy was overstimulated, incredibly so, but the desire to push Tae to his own end overpowered any other desire. You held his gaze intensely, rocking your hips to meet his.

“I’m in love with you, Tae,” you whined at his quick pace. “Please cum inside me. I want to feel you in me always.”

A guttural groan left his throat as he chased after it, a punishing speed thrusting into your spent heat. He could feel how wet you were now, two orgasms slicking around him and squelching loudly in the otherwise silent room. He wanted you full, not losing a drop of him. If he could stuff you full, and seal you up to save him forever, he would.

His orgasm took him quickly, with surprise. He emptied his load into you, and you cried at the warmth flooding your womb. You encouraged him, sighing out your pleasured approval.

He pulled himself out of you, cock softening rapidly. A trail of his seed followed, and Taehyung frowned. That wouldn’t do.

He slithered down your body, face to face with your abused cunt. He lapped at the mixed fluids with his tongue, pushing it into your cunt with the appendage.

“Need you full of me,” he murmured, savoring the taste of your combined love. “Keep it in you all night.”

He propped your hips with a pillow, lifting you so not to spill another ounce of him from within you. A deep down thought occurred that he wanted you pregnant, wanted to come home to you swollen with milk and children.

You cuddled up to him, wrapping your arms around him. You couldn’t remember being as happy as this before. A sense of contentment and elation wrapped around you like a soft blanket.

“I love you, I love you,” was all you heard before you drifted off to sweet, blissful sleep in the arms of your lover.

The bed was empty when you awoke. It had been made. The signature note laid gently, accusingly, on the pillow. You almost didn’t want to read it.

‘Meet me at the motel room we first met tonight at 9 pm. Xoxo’

It was the first time he had written without pouring out his love and adoration for you. The note was simple and without flowy prose.

It intrigued you.

You found yourself at the lowly, country inn on the side of the highway. It was in the middle of nowhere. You pressed your back against your car, throwing your cigarette down to smash it with your foot.

The room was unlocked when you twisted the handle.

Taehyung sat on the bed, forlorn and lost. He had never gotten to a room before you. He always ensured to be last.

He melted at the sight of you, composed facade crumbling in front of you. He approached you and cried into your neck. You held him, confused and concerned, raking your fingers through his hair as comfortingly as possible.

“I’m so fucking sorry, I’m so sorry,” he cried.

“Taehyung! What is going on!?”

He glanced up at you, his beautiful face marred by tears.

“My agency,” he croaked. “They know about us. They’re making me move from Seoul immediately. I don’t know when I can return.”

You felt your heart stop beating completely. The world stopped turning.

Agency. Found out? Had he been keeping you a secret to allow your romance to continue? He appeared devastated by the news. More than someone involved with a simple fuck buddy should be.

“Is-..is that why you always wanted to meet me at a motel?” You questioned, forcing yourself to breathe.

He nodded. “I tried so hard to protect you, I’m so fucking sorry.”

It all made sense. Didn’t it? Taehyung wasn’t hiding you away because he was ashamed of you. He hid you away, in the places no one would find you because he knew the consequences would be dire. He knew the reputation they forced him to maintain as an idol did not lend itself to a secret girlfriend. Careers had been ruined by it alone.

“Fuck,” you gasped, pulling the thin man up from your neck to look him in the eyes. “I thought you did it because you were ashamed of me.”

His eyes widened. Even when broken and crying, he still looked so beautiful.

“What? No! Oh, my god,” he gasped. It was all clicking into his mind too. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. You thought-... all this time that I was ashamed. That I was leaving you every morning because I didn’t want you? I thought you knew...”

You shook your head. He clung to you tighter.

“Oh, my god. And the notes.” He felt abysmal, guilt tearing at his throat. “I’m… fuck, I’m so sorry. You always told me you hated it when I left. I left before they would notice I was missing, and come to search for me. I couldn’t let them know about you. I couldn’t risk losing you. I can’t believe I’ve put you through this.”

You held onto Tae like your last lifeline. It all made sense now. All the whispered sonnets, murmured epithets of love and desire, devotion and romance, were true. He meant them all. While you stewed in your suffering, you didn’t realize that he was hiding you away until he could have you fully, completely, without fear of retaliation from agency or fan alike.

“I love you, Taehyung,” you whispered, kissing at his tear-streaked cheeks.

“I love you, too,” he replied.

You knew you’d never tire of hearing it.

Months later, you packed up your belongings from the dumpy motel room, shoving them into a suitcase.

Taehyung had fucked you on every surface of the room, the grimy bathtub, bent over the broken desk, against the sagging wallpapered wall.

You were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk. When you awoke, you felt the delicious tingle of pain between your thighs, body marked with his lovebites.

A note had laid on the pillow beside you as you opened your eyes and rubbed the sleep from them. The bed was made on his side. The room was empty.

‘Left to grab coffee. Pack up and let’s go home when I get back. Love you forever.’

You exited the room and closed the door behind you, smiling at the sound of the clicking lock.

You glanced back at it; the room holding too many memories of heartbreak and passion. It was impossible to distinguish between the two. They intertwined like lovers.

Taehyung appeared beside you, hand slipping into yours as he handed you a steaming paper cup of coffee.

“You ready?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Ready,” you agreed.

You drove from the motel, back towards the towering skyline of Seoul, away from the degenerate motel room.

The room that would never see the two of you again and always remain

vacant.

#bangtanarmynet #heartsforbts #minthlynet #bts smut #bts angst #ppersonna writes #bts taehyung #bts v #bts kim taehyung #bts fanfic

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ya-boi-haru · 1 year ago

Text

Sharing this here so I can rant about how I think Icarus' 'head wings' move when they talk/emotional-

Like you know how some birds may stretch their wings to be intimidating, that's what they do when Icarus is mad/yelling. Or they fold more down when they're sad (same with their elytra wings) They give a quick flap if they get scared or lots of little flaps when they're excited/ brain is going brrr.

I used the string in a couple videos to show this, but I think I use/ show them most in this one...

#fable smp #icarus fable smp cosplay #fable smp cosplay #fable smp headcanon #icarus fable smp

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mintchocolatechipnut · 4 years ago

Text

icarus | takami keigo

Note: I first posted this on Ao3, you can find it here. Hawks seems a little OOC here and I Regret That as I reread it but I still liked how it turned out overall. Hope you enjoy!

Tags: ‘Hawks has a crush!’ drabble, reader works at the same agency, possibly OOC Hawks, slow burn, fluff galore, overly generous use of italics

Word count: 2.4k

It’s just moments before he has to leave for patrol, but as Hawks hangs around in the lobby of his agency that fact momentarily leaves his mind when he catches sight of you, with your perpetual smile. You’re at the reception desk, back ramrod straight, fashion impeccable as you greet clients, your eyes lighting up as they regale you with their latest anecdote. Hawks could have been fooled, if he hadn’t known you since the three years he and you began working here, him nineteen and you looking a little older. Perhaps twenty? Twenty-one?

He knows what you look like on a cloudy Monday morning running late for work, your hair in a frizz due to the humidity in the air and the slightly crumpled hem of your dress shirt peeking coyly atop the waistband of your skirt. He remembers the cup of coffee from the cafe down the block that you clutch in the palm of your hand precariously as you shuffle into the building, bidding a hasty ‘good morning’ and letting a look of pure relief grace your face when you spy the clock ticking three minutes to eight.

The you that he sees that’s not for customers is, sadly, also seen by most of his colleagues. They know you’re the entertainment fairy of the agency; despite your calm and collected looks, you’re really the life of the party at functions, always ready to go ham on the karaoke machine and take the dance floor with some killer moves. It’s led to a lot of love for you as one of the youngest in the agency, aside from him, and how the atmosphere becomes a little lighter the moment you step into a room.

He’s not going to lie, those three years with you really did a number on him. He’s a willing contractor of your contagious cheer, his heart lifting when the sight of you greets him after a harrowing day of taking down villains. The job’s not always difficult, he admits, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. Sometimes, if you’re not busy, you’d glance up from your seat, your eyes peeking over the edge of the counter, and disarm him with your gaze. Then a smile, and a wave, and you’re back to work. Little do you know those gestures have carved a nice little space for themselves in his mind, but not his heart.

He’s asked himself the question many times, but he’s been warned many times more. About how it is when you give your heart away to someone who might never understand the workings of a pro hero, or to someone who understands because of their own experiences, but in return you’re never fully guaranteed of their safety out in the field. He definitely has hero acquaintances who’re happily married, with kids and fur-kids, but the stories that echo in his brain whenever he looks at you are those of broken bonds, severed ties and loved ones lost. And then he remembers how pretty you look with that smile on your face, and knows he wouldn’t want anything to ever risk its existence.

But is it too much to hope that he might be, at some point of time, the cause of that smile?

He’s shaken out of his reverie when his sidekick calls out to him, having just stepped out of the elevator in time for their patrol. Unconsciously, he takes one last look at your form, now turned away from him as you stand before the photocopier, and his chest vibrates with the murmurs of his heart’s wish for you to turn back for one last glance.

But you don’t, instead your head turning sideways to return a conversation with a coworker, and Hawks finally looks away. The automatic glass doors open up before him as he steps out into the city for another day of work, and the last thought he has before switching into professionalism is how you greet him in a way these glass doors never could.

Hawks has always been one to be in tune with his emotions, but just because he acknowledges them doesn’t mean he needs to act on them, or give in to them.

But as he sits alone in his office, hands tightly balled atop his knees as he heaves through his mouth, he’s tempted to let go. The words Dabi uttered to him feel like they were from eons ago, yet they’re floating afresh in his mind, bouncing off the confines of his brain like echoes as he strains for his own voice to be heard above the din. He’s shaken, no doubt, but heaven forbid that he’s so shaken he loses his balance in the air.

He’s known as the man who goes too fast, but never as the man who flies too high or too low. He’s comfortable where he is, his technique immaculate as he keeps himself airborne. But the drawbacks of being too fast is that without near perfect control you’re prone to crash and burn, and Hawks surmises that he’s close to that end when he’s never once slowed down enough to confront the feelings collecting dust and despair inside his heart. The mental strain the undercover mission has on him weighs on his conscience like gravity, and suddenly he’s falling, and his wings don’t open up fast enough, he’s not fast enough—

And then the sound of his name in your voice envelopes him like a safety net and grounds him gently, instead of the splat to the earth that he’d seen as imminent just seconds ago. He looks up from where he’s sitting to see your eyes scan over his hunched figure, and he prays you can’t see the sweat beading the sides of his neck or the whiteness of his knuckles in his lap. He watches as your brows knit together, your stare once sweet now laced with worry, and he curses internally that he’s not able to put you at ease in his condition. Smiles come as easy to him as they do you, so why is it so hard to muster one now?

He barely hears the click-clack of your heels as you make your way over to him. All at once his brain is firing off warning signals, his head is ringing with alarms. No, don’t come near, don’t get near me, the sirens blare, don’t see me like this—

A carton of juice is placed on the glass tabletop before him, and his gaze slowly traces up your fingers to your face. He wants to remove his gold-tinted glasses to convince himself you’re not as perfect as he perceived, but at the same time your light is so blinding he’s afraid that if he sees you in your full glory he’ll burn.

But you’re still perfect in his vision, though the edges of your mouth don’t quite reach your cheeks as you put on your trademark smile, and are you faltering? It’s the first time he’s ever seen it, and yet you look prettier still. Hawks wonders if you're not accustomed to sadness, you with your eternal grin. Wonders if, for all the cheering up you do, you lack in comforting and sympathizing, but then he realizes that's such a rude thing to assume.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” He spies the stray strands of hair plastered against your damp forehead, as you walk away from him towards the windows, where you start to draw the blinds. “You can stay here if you want, but I’d really like to lock up soon.” When you turn to him again, your smile no longer wavers. Your gaze does, though, and it's enough to prove his earlier theory wrong. "I also think you should get some rest."

That precarious position he holds while airborne is threatened immediately by the sun in your smile, your laugh, your heart, and he finds himself falling to the sea below, instantly relishing the feeling of air through his feathers and the coolness the water’s about to grant to his scorching skin. But oh no, oh dear— the sea is also you, the deep expanse of your arms and chest welcoming like that of a siren's song, while your eyes threaten to rob him of the lift in his wings.

He knows the League of Villains was a force to be reckoned with, but you are a whole new danger altogether.

It’s the first and last time Hawks would ever let you see him as… well, ‘vulnerable’ is what most people like to call it. ‘Less than best’ is what he tells himself instead.

He couldn’t call your relationship that of friends, since you’ve never had to speak to him more than the occasional small talk and necessary work matters. However, he couldn’t call you an acquaintance either, when he bumps into you in a convenience store one weekend and immediately watches your countenance brighten.

You greet him first with a sunny smile on your face, but he’s delighted to see that it came with a messy bun and sweatpants that signal you were in your most comfortable state. As he stands behind you in line as to not obscure your view of the signs overhead, displaying the prices for an ice cream cone, he’s locked onto the sight of your frame, the loose baby hairs sweeping across your nape, and he wonders how it’d feel to envelop that frame with his own, to let his own hair tickle that nape—

His silent beration of himself for having these thoughts come to a standstill when you move out of the periphery of his vision to let him make his purchases. Instantly, regret washes over him that you have to leave so soon, that the one time he’s managed to see you out of work you’re gone so quickly. So imagine his shock when he finds you waiting near the doors, your purchases in a bag on your arm while you hold two ice cream cones in hand.

He doesn’t know what good deeds he’d done to bring this on, but he’s not questioning this: walking side by side with you, ice cream cone in hand as you both make your way down the street towards the station. You apologize that you’d been presumptuous in getting him ice cream, and he’s taken with how the corners of your eyes crinkle in mirth when he dismisses it with a laugh. He's enjoying the ride home, even misses his own stop under the pretense of ensuring safe passage home to a well-meaning civilian. And when you reach the front door of your apartment, ice cream gone from your hand a long time ago, he wonders if you'll ask him to stay.

But you don't, instead thanking him and telling him to rest well and have a good evening, Hawks. And before he can stop himself, he utters, "Keigo. Keigo is fine."

A beat, then another. They're loud and thundering before he realizes that they're echoing through his eardrums. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to look up.

"Okay." Your voice lilts from the doorway, and—he really wants to know where you get all these dazzling grins from, so that he can bottle some up for a rainy day. "Have a good evening, Keigo."

Suits don’t suit him. Obviously they hinder his wings, but the stuffiness of wearing them often makes him wish he was on patrol instead, soaring through the sky while feeling the wind whip his clothes.

But here he is, in a tailored suit where the starch of his collar digs into his neck hard enough for him to consider laying off the chicken nuggets this month. Besides the stuffiness of the suit itself, the air where he’s at is downright suffocating, though the ceilings are high and the chandeliers glisten in magnificence above his head. He can feel the thin film of sweat forming across the skin beneath his tight, layered clothing, and he wonders how he hasn’t gotten used to this, after all the charity balls and hero galas he’s had to attend.

Perhaps today will be different, he thinks. Today is his agency’s tenth anniversary, and there’d been a function thrown together for it. Of course today is different, he realizes—you’ll be here. That fact is enough for him to inhale deeply and step into the grand ballroom, and really, it’s not hard to spot you.

There you are in the middle of the room next to the refreshments, a vision in your dress as you hold a flute of champagne between your fingers. It’s a stark contrast from how you hold your coffee cup on work mornings, and all of a sudden he realizes he’s been holding his breath. You’re talking wistfully to a bunch of colleagues at work, and your polished appearance makes him forget how much more frazzled you’ve looked the past few days while planning for this occasion with the rest of the events team. Where strands of your hair would have been sticking up in all directions sits an elegant braid pinned to your head, while the rest of your hair cascades past your bare shoulders like shimmering waterfalls. The demure smile on your face belies the pallor of your complexion where lack of sleep is evident, but you’re beautiful, even if in a vampire sort of way. Hell, you’re beautiful no matter what.

You’re absolutely magnetic, and he’s drawn into the whirlpool that is your presence as he takes a shaky step across the floor towards you. He’s all too aware of the rapidly pulsing heart inside his too-tight chest, the heart that holds a million wishes just for you.

But he's done wishing and wondering. He's done hearing the voices that tell him he's too fast, or not fast enough, or that he's in trouble. Your name leaves his lips like a prayer, a desire given form and shape for just having been spoken, and Hawks watches as you turn. He feels your face brighten before he sees it.

His heart alights when your mouth moves in tandem with the letters in his name, his first name, and he shifts his gaze to eyes that disarm him once more. Instantly he knows those eyes will disarm him as long as he lets them (as long as it’s you).

He’s falling, but god, has he ever felt so free—

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #hawks drabbles #hawks fluff

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juvinile · 4 years ago

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* LOGAN LERMAN , CIS MALE + HE / HIM | you know SEAN O’MALLEY , right ? they’re TWENTY - SIX , and they’ve lived in irving for , like , THEIR WHOLE LIFE ? well , their spotify wrapped says they listened to FREAKING OUT ON THE INTERSTATE BY BRISTON MARONEY like , a million times this year , which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole CHIPPED BLACK NAILS ON CALLOUSED HANDS , STUMBLING BLIND THROUGH DAEDALUS’S LABYRINTH , SKATEBOARDING ALONE ON HOT PAVEMENT thing going on . i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 4TH , so they’re a LEO , which is unsurprising , all things considered .

TW INCLUDE divorce tw , alcoholism tw , bullying tw

hi hi hi it’s alli previously known for less strange things than playing my own muse’s sibling but i hope u can overlook my faults and my hubris bc i love sean and he’s . something . ok he he he

GENERAL :

full name: sean thomas o’malley

age / dob: twenty - six / august 4th

gender: cis male

pronouns: he / him

occupation: mechanic

zodiac: leo

orientation: bisexual & biromantic

faceclaim: logan lerman

pinterest: HERE !

AESTHETIC :

chipped black nails on calloused hands, stumbling blind through daedalus’s labyrinth, skateboarding alone on hot pavement, a broken stopwatch, the burn of whiskey and the ash of discarded cigarettes, clipped wings, no one taught icarus how to fly, earbuds that always manage to tangle themselves in your pocket, liminal space

CHARACTER ANALYSIS :

kyle scheible ( ladybird ) , alyssa ( end of the fucking world ) , klaus hargreeves ( the umbrella academy ) , steven hyde ( that 70s show ) , tony stonem ( skins ) , jonathan byers ( stranger things ) , frankie ( beach rats ) , alexander vass ( if we were villains ) , angie ( the oa ) , lip gallagher ( shameless ) , literally every deadbeat stoner skateboarder side character in any tv show ever he literally modeled his personality after them

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY :

sean thomas o’malley was the eldest born to patrick o’malley, an on again off again construction worker, and aoife o’malley nee murphy, a checkout clerk at the local supermarket.

he was a wild thing from the beginning -- always tugging on his mother’s hair and biting at his father’s hands, so much trouble that his parents, in their happier years, affectionately coined him “scrap”.

his sisters came a few years later, first sloane and then fia, the three o’malley alley cats. their childhood was a decent one, poor as dirt and left to rot in lilac ridge, but a close knit bunch all the same.

sean was always grinning, even that time he chipped his tooth, lopsided and warm, and his parents usually weren’t drunk until long after the children had gone to bed.

though sean himself couldn’t see it for a while, his parents had a sort of reputation around town. the o’malleys were too poor, had too many kids to take care of, spent too little time at home, were too friendly with the local bartenders. and though they didn’t know exactly what they were echoing, the kids at school had a way of letting sean know exactly what their parents thought of his. he found that sticking up for himself meant sticking up for his sisters, and he learned he didn’t particularly hate getting into fights.

sean isn’t really sure himself when things started to change, perhaps when his mom stopped work at the supermarket, or when his father broke his ankle and had to take off from the construction site, but the facade of happiness at home never lasted.

they grew apart, all of the o’malley’s, aoife and patrick ending their marriage in a divorce, sean and the girls spending more and more time away from home. to escape, it seemed, from the ghost of a family.

he fell into his group of friends like he always falls into things, seemingly at random, and bless their hearts because he’s never been the easiest person to get along with. he’s combative, and indulgent, and maybe those parents were right when they used to warn people to stay away from the o’malley boy, but he’s got his heart in the right place. if only he knew how to properly express it, maybe he wouldn’t be so on edge all the time, so starkly defensive of what little he has.

he still takes care of his dad, who moved into an apartment in delphinus heights. he makes sure he gets out of bed in the morning, even if it means being late to his own crappy job. he makes sure he’s eating enough. he tries to borrow the one family car as little as he can, knows his dad needs it more. he tries to shield his sisters from having to know the extent of a deadbeat their dad is, wants better for all of them but knows he isn’t going to be the one to give better to them.

sean cares for them all deeply, his family and the few friends he has, but he’s never been great at expressing his emotions, not with them and certainly not with anyone else. he does what he can, working whatever job he manages to secure and sticking around irving ( currently he’s taken to fixing cars but .. how long can sean really be good for fixing anything .. ) , but there’s an undeniable pull he feels in his gut, whispering that it doesn’t have to be this way. that there’s more, somewhere, anywhere else. he’s never had a problem listening to his gut before.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS :

an ex, probably someone who ended up leaving and things were maybe never even that serious to begin with ?? everyone always knew sean would never make it out of irving and they just wanted really different things. maybe they’ve stayed in contact or maybe not, maybe it ended badly or maybe they just both knew it was coming and sean isn’t exactly the type to care enough to try to hold on.

skate crew, i think a few other muses skate or possibly even just go to the skate park to watch others skate ?? little social gathering thing going on. picture parties at 3am in the in ground pools, drunk half pipe usage, sliding down ramps on mattresses, chaos.

his childhood friend, maybe they stuck up for him when he was a kid getting bullied and has just been there for him through everything. his parents’ divorce, everyone leaving, his many failed attempts to hold a job. maybe they grew apart and now its awkward when sean skates by like hi :P

antagonistic, no matter how hard they try not to, they’ve always butted heads. sean’s so confrontational and he can’t keep his head on his shoulders. he’s always been an easy target, but he’s also always been so jealous. isolated himself and pities himself and it’s infuriating. they’re polar opposites, but they can be at each other’s necks one minute and grabbing a pint in the next. it’s complicated.

someone innocent, maybe someone who has come to him because they want to loosen up ?? they want to put themselves out there more. they’ve always been the voice of reason and they want to cut loose, they went away and now they’re back and they don’t know what to do, etc. just think it would be fun for sean to be the father of bad influence lmao

#irvingintro #divorce tw #alcoholism tw #bullying tw #this is kind of short and sloanes has #more family history i think bt #im going w it

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lostinmysticfalls · 5 years ago

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Safe to Fall - Javi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Javi made it very clear from the beginning that there would be no strings attached. He calls you up when he needs you and you’re more than happy to be of service. But when he changes his mind about sending you on a dangerous mission, you realize that perhaps he hasn’t been following his own rule as closely as he thought.

Words: 4,127

Warnings: smut, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, abandonment issues, implied violence briefly mentioned

A/N: Wow… this one took a turn. It’s a little darker and more angsty than I anticipated. Reader’s got quite a bit of emotional baggage but so does Javi so, they’re kinda perfect for each other? (title taken from lyrics of Finally // beautiful stranger by Halsey)

Javi pushed himself up on the granite counter, his denim clad legs and bare feet dangling as he poured two glasses of whiskey over ice. One for him and one for you. The smoke from his lit cigarette billowed like a gray cloud underneath the warm glow of the kitchen light.

“So you really haven’t changed your mind?” He asked.

You set your things down on the small coffee table in the living room. Replying loud enough so he could hear you. “No. I told you I want to help.”

He remembered what happened the last time he had a girl get information for him. The memories of her helpless body curled on the soiled mattress on the floor, immobile and barely breathing. The stench of decay and mold, the creaking sound of the rotting wood in the room, it still vividly haunted him years after the fact.

She couldn't have been older than you, and she too had been brave, willing to help because she felt loyal to him. Because she had also gotten dangerously close even when he thought he was keeping his distance. Angel wings burnt like Icarus by the invisible fiery rays that radiated off of him like a death curse.

Her light was gone after that night. No amount of time was long enough for her to heal. A life ruined forever because of something he'd wanted.

Javi had been afraid for the girl, of course he had been. What kind of man would it make him otherwise? During his time at the DEA he’d seen some of the most fucked up shit anyone could ever witness, but he wasn't a soulless monster. Not even after all that carnage and violence he’d experienced. It was something the cartels hadn't been able to take from him and it was the one thing he kept most guarded.

He’d never admit it but that brutal happening was the reason why he was always careful to the point of being paranoid nowadays.

Why he'd never allowed things to go too far with any of his girls, why he brushed off any kind of compliment and instead of building relationships with women, he built walls. Keeping things professional. All business. It was his way of protecting himself and keeping those around him safe.

Everyone knew Javi was more than willing to share his body with any pretty little thing that gave him the time of day, but sharing his entire being? Even just a glimpse of the man underneath the hardened exterior? That was out of the question.

Or so he thought.

As he stared at you from atop his kitchen counter, he could feel his heart rumbling in his chest. It was yearning but also paralyzing fear, a mix of effervescent joy but also agonizing pain. A turmoil of emotions that he’d been trying to keep bottled up and locked away like a dirty secret.

Something else had clicked in him. An unplanned tethering had formed as a result of all the time you'd spent together. Of your scheduled and unscheduled romps between his sheets—ones that had slowly transitioned from casual and meaningless fucking to sweet and tender love-making without him even realizing it. Of the sound of your velvet voice over the phone during your late night chats when he needed to vent. And of the way you leaned your head on his shoulder and sometimes fell asleep while you watched TV.

Javi had made the same mistake yet again and he knew it. He’d been naive enough to think that you would be the exception to the rule, no matter how close he allowed you to get. He had ignored all the red flags until you gradually imprinted yourself on his skin. A permanent mark that he would carry with him forever, no matter where life took him.

He stupidly chastised himself in silence, as if doing so would sever the ties that bound you.

You swayed your way to him, unaware of his predicament, little dress hugging your figure as you took off the leather jacket he'd gifted you for your birthday a couple months back. Your hair getting caught on the metal buttons as you slipped it off your shoulders.

"It's gonna be fine." Your voice had an air of confidence and reassurance. "I'll do exactly as you say and nobody... well, almost nobody... will get hurt." You took the glass of whiskey that was meant for you and sipped it, grimacing and sticking your tongue out when the flavor hit your tongue. "Javi. I trust you." You smiled.

Maybe that was the problem. Blind trust.

He looked down at you, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray and swirling the contents of his glass before downing it all in one gulp. His brown eyes were trained on your face, like he was getting a good look at you just in case everything went to shit that night.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be you." He said, his voice deep and laced with trepidation.

"Cómo?" You questioned his sudden change in plans after all this time. For weeks he'd been coaching you, training you for that exact mission. "Si esos hijos de puta me la deben también." You snarled, reminding him that you had scores to settle with those assholes too. He wasn't the only one who'd lost people in this war.

“I can do this, Javier." You cocked your head. Swallowing the rest of your drink as you looked up at him and smirked. After a little while, you bit down on your crimson tainted lip, asking coyly. “Am I still your favorite?”

You pushed up on your toes, your hands on his thighs as your plump limps brushed against his mouth. The taste of whiskey and cigarette infusing your tongue as his mustache scraped the delicate skin of your upper lip, tickling the tip of your nose.

“You know you are, sweetheart.” He kissed you again, his actions more fervent the second time around. “Y eres la más hermosa también.”

“Then if tonight’s plan is settled, why’d you call me? We weren’t supposed to see each other until afterwards.” You teased, kissing him and biting his lip. Pulling it with your teeth until he exhaled a little moan.

“You know I care about you.” He growled, his hands running down your arms.

You laughed through the shivers that his touch produced, pretending like you hadn't notice the goosebumps that formed on your skin. Trying to ignore the way your heart beat for him and your stomach twisted with excitement as a million butterflies took flight. You'd caught yourself slipping more often than not these days.

"Sure." Deep red lips pressed against his once again, attempting to dismiss the meaning behind his words. "We'll go with that."

"Is that so hard to believe?" He asked, one eyebrow perched.

It's not that it was hard to believe. On the contrary, you knew that Javi had a good heart, you'd seen it time and time again no matter how much he tried to downplay it.

But he knew better than to bring any kind of emotional baggage to the agreement you two had made. He had been the one to set the rules, for god's sake. The fact that you had been on the same page had actually been what earned you the coveted role of favorite girl. You were clear on the terms, believing you were smart enough not to form real relationships with clients. Up until that point, you thought he was too.

"I just don’t want you to get hurt." He said, touching the side of your face with his hand, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, stopping himself from saying more.

“Javi. Stop with the sentimental bullshit.” You said quietly, breath swirling over his parted lips as you purred. “Will you just fuck me already? I’ve missed you.”

His thumb caressed your chin ever so lightly. Lips crashing into yours as he jumped off the counter. Both hands cupped your face, his body moving against yours. His closeness lighting a fire deep in your core and igniting the aching throb between your legs. Your breathing was growing heavy, the pulse at your neck pounding with rabid need.

You raised his buttoned shirt over his stomach, breaking from the kiss for just a short moment to take it off. You kicked off your shoes, feet stumbling as you walked backwards, his body guiding you at an unhurried pace toward the unlit room that was at the end of the hallway.

Overzealous hands moved along your bends, trailing over the small of your back and down your ass until his fingers had hooked onto the fabric of your dress and you felt it leave your body. The cold air in the apartment hitting your exposed skin.

You had just crossed the threshold into the bedroom when he stopped you.

He grabbed your arms, twirling you until your back crashed against his stomach and chest. You squirmed and giggled, enjoying the way he took command and allowing him to do as he pleased. Your body whirred with arousal, the touch of his hands gliding over your breasts and pulling down the cups of your bra, making you shudder.

You moaned. “Touch me, Javi.” Snaking your body into him wantonly, your ass rubbing up against his hardness.

The straps of your bra fell over your shoulders, and you reached behind your back to unclip it as fast as you could. His large hands covering your supple mounds, massaging your full tits as his lips trailed over your jaw. He felt so good, your entire body hummed, wetness pooling in your underwear as your nipples pebbled between the clutch of his fingers.

His mouth bit your chin as you cranked your head to look at him, your sensitive skin burning from the scratches of his facial hair and the gentle scrape of his teeth.

Javi kept one hand on your breasts, playing with your stiffened peaks as his other hand slid down the length of your upper body. His back hunched over slightly as he reached inside your underwear.

A whimper floated from your lips when his fingers made contact with your soft flesh. Your delicate flower blossoming for him as he slid between your moistened folds.

“Oh, you’re so fucking wet already.” He muttered against your ear. “I could slip right in if I wanted to.”

He went on with his ministrations, making you writhe against his chest the more he teased your pulsing center. His fingers traveled up and down your slit, getting closer and closer to your heat each time, finally reaching your tight entrance. But he only circled his way around it for a few seconds before he retreated.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You whined, your complaint being cut short by the feel of his arms swooping you off the floor.

He carried you the rest of the short distance to the bed and set you down atop the fluffed up comforter that had been left undone from that morning. He smiled, pulling your underwear down your silky legs until you were completely naked.

You watched him, biting down on your lip as he got out of his pants. His beautiful cock, rock hard and swaying as he got on the bed. Dark eyes transfixed on your nakedness, knowing you were all his in that moment. He climbed on top of you, hovering over your body and kissing your mouth as his eager fingers returned to the place they’d abandoned just moments prior.

“You want this?” He asked, his mouth trailing over your jaw and then down your neck. Tongue licking its way down your chest until his tongue was encircling one of your nipples.

“Yes.” You cried, as his index finger penetrated your slick walls. Your tight flesh wrapping around his digit as he began moving in and out of your crevice.

You arched your back, craving more. Even though you knew that when it came to him, it was never enough. You could never suffice. After a few moments he slipped in a second finger, his thumb moving over your clit as he started to finger fuck you more vehemently.

“Oh my god!” Whimpers left your lips. “You’re so fucking good!”

Javi kissed your face, the feel of your skin hot against his lips. Your body began to spasm as a result of his actions. His fingers moved rapidly in and out of your opening, curling and stretching your insides now and again. His other hand paying attention to your pulsating center, circling over your clit, determined not to stop until he’d made you come.

“Just like that, mmmm… así, Javi…” You repeated the words over and over until they eventually died in your mouth, replaced instead by unabashed cries of gratification as you reached that blissful finish.

An explosion of fireworks went off behind your closed eyes as the heat rippled through all your extremities. Your core swollen and tender from his touch and its sensitivity heightened by your triggered orgasm.

You laughed, kissing him. “You’re amazing, Javier.” With your hands on his arms, you pulled yourself up. “Come here,” you patted the bed, gesturing for him to lie on his back.

You stretched across his upper body, opening the drawer in the nightstand next to him. You’d been at his place plenty of times before to know where everything was, but it was almost like unspoken rule between you. One that if acknowledged, would give away the deep intimacy you both already shared. He slapped your ass as you reached for the box of condoms buried underneath his socks.

Moments later, you sat astride his thighs, unrolling the rubber over his length and pumping it with your hand a few times before positioning him at your entrance. He looked up at you, his slightly opened mouth exhaling a groan as he slowly invaded your heated depths.

He allowed you full control of the movements as he slid inside you, even though he was dying to grab your hips and ravish you without restraint. You blurted out his name as you started to move up and down his length, the thickness of his cock stretching your wet walls, instilling you with indescribable pleasure each time every inch of him filled you up.

You rocked your hips back and forth, riding his cock like you owned it, alternating your speed as the minutes ticked by. Eventually turning your movements into that undulated dance that you knew he loved so much. Your breathing became ragged and your bodies sweaty from the heated friction. Grunts and moans, fused with curses and dirty talk, permeated the air.

Javi held on to your hips, fingers gripping your skin as you bucked your hips into him harder and faster. You leaned your upper body forward, mouth nipping his neck as you bounced your ass up and down over his thighs, taking pleasure in the sound of your wet bodies clashing against each other.

Your heart was beating so fast, the exertion making your legs tired and numb from being bent in the same position for so long. Javi sensed your fatigue when you slowed down your pace. He wrapped his arms around your back, holding you close to him as he lifted his hips off the bed and slammed his cock into your core a few times, giving you a bit of a break from your movements.

He took a second to catch his breath and then rolled over with you on the bed, pinning you underneath him as he adjusted himself inside you. Taking both of your hands, he raised them over your head, binding your wrists together with one of his hands as he began fucking you again. It was the first time you could recall him doing that, but something about it made you feel absolutely comfortable and safe. It wasn’t aggressive or even forceful. No. It was like he was claiming you as his own.

“I can’t let you do this.” He said, making you mewl and flail as he hit your sweet spot with just the right amount of force.

He was breathless, but his words were gentle and full of the love you told him once he could never feel for you.

“I care about you too much.” He said your name, repeating it one more time before he made his final confession. “I love you.”

The rousing feelings overtook you, pleasurable sensations flowing through you as you came undone one more time. His hips banged into you over and over, the ache intensifying in your core, your walls quivering and contracting as they burst with release.

You were still in the midst of your orgasm when you felt his body go rigid for just a second, his grunts becoming loud and incessant as he came inside you. The rapturous seconds of physical climax evaporated after a few moments but the emotional effects of it lingered long after.

Your exhausted bodies lied next to each other, legs still entwined as you remained still for the minutes that followed.

Even after you both had come down from your respective highs, you stayed put, afraid to move in order to delay the inevitable explanation that was coming after what Javi had just said.

* * * * *

You came out of the bathroom, trajectory set on your scattered clothes on the floor. Legs were still wobbly and heart was still beating fast but maybe this time it was from anxiousness and fear more than anything.

Javi had said those three words to you, knowing that you didn’t want to hear them.

Before then, all he’d done was toy with the idea of you leaving the trade for good. Deep down you suspected his reasons for asking but he had never really elaborated on what his intentions were for you if you did decide to quit. Not that it was a big secret. You were aware that he’d sent some girls across the border to live a life under witness protection, and others to monasteries or safe sanctuaries far away from their homeland. None of which was for you.

You gave him the same answer every time he brought it up; you belonged to no one but yourself and you didn't need a savior to rescue you.

Javi reached for your hand as you finished getting dressed. He’d sensed the coldness you emitted. He could feel you drifting from him, shutting him out.

“So you’re just going to ruin your team’s operation because of me?” You couldn’t believe you were saying that, it didn’t sound like the Javi you knew. His job had always been his priority.

“It’s still happening. You’re just not a part of it.” He buttoned his jeans, frowning when he heard the contemptuous laugh that left your lips a second later.

"You can't save me from this, Javi." You pulled away, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Because I don't need to be saved. I thought you understood that.”

His nostrils flared, one hand running through his hair as he looked at you. Face painted with despair. “Why are you acting like this? I just told you I loved you—“

“And I warned you not to fall in love with me.” You retorted, your voice cracking from the influx of emotions he’d stirred in you.

You wanted to cry. There was anger in you but you weren’t angry with him. How could you be? No. You were angry with yourself because you too had allowed it to get this far even though you told yourself you wouldn’t. Your carelessness had led you to grow attached.

“Well, I do love you.” He shrugged like there was nothing he could do about it.

“Es la verdad. Te amo.”

“Estás loco, Javier.”

He smiled, inching closer to you. “Loco for ti nadamás.”

“Fuck.” You huffed under your breath. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I. Come on, talk to me.” He put his hands on your shoulders, tipping his head down and searching for your eyes. “Why is it so bad that I fell in love with you?”

“You wanna know how this story ends?” Your eyes narrowed, mouth twisting in disapproval. “I’ll tell you. Hell, I’ve lived it plenty of times before to know the ending never changes.”

You sighed, the twinge in your chest threatening to make you fall to pieces before you could even speak.

“You tell me that you love me and I believe you… because I want it to be true,” you said quietly. “And it’s fine for a little while. But you never truly get over it. You’re not able to forget my past. The countless men that crossed my path before you…”

You stopped to take a breath, trying to get rid of the knot that had formed in your throat. “And then that love you said you felt for me. The love story that you made me believe in… it begins to turn into a nightmare. Chipping away at any feelings we might still have for each other. Until one day… you grow tired… and you leave. You leave and all I’m left with is bitterness and hate.” Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears.

He shook his head. “I would never do that to you.” His kind eyes displaying a glint of hopelessness as he began to realize why you’d been so put off by his declaration.

“But you will.” Your lip trembled as you began to sob. “Because they always do. They never stay, Javi. You won’t stay.”

He took you in his arms, your composure crumbling all at once the moment you felt his warm embrace. Your head was pressed against his bare chest, your whole body enveloped in his scent.

“You’re a good man. I know you are. And I don’t want to hate you.” You said between sharp intakes of air, feeling completely vulnerable as he held you. Knowing that now that your truth was out in the open, there was no point in denying your own feelings for him. “I love you too much to ever hate you, Javi.”

That bit of confirmation that you felt the same way was reassuring to him. He held you tightly, kissing the top of your head. “And do you trust me?”

You laughed between the tears, thinking that earlier you’d been dead set on putting your life on the line for him—he knew you did. “Of course I trust you.”

He nuzzled your temple and then spread kisses over your flushed, dewy cheeks in the most delicate and loving manner. The tender brush of his lips made you shiver in delight, like a hit of ecstasy had been shot straight into your veins.

“Then believe me when I tell you that I would never…” He gently took a hold of your chin with his fingers, wiping the tears from under your misty eyes. “I would never break your heart. I would never hurt you, amor.”

You closed your eyes, feeling his proximity close in on you. The touch of his lips on yours made your heart sputter. Hooking your arms around his neck, you kissed him again, gently sparring with his tongue as you relished in each other’s taste for a long drawn-out minute.

Breaking away slowly, you said. “I know but I’m fucking terrified to fall… to completely give myself to someone other than me.”

“So am I.” He said. “But not of falling. It’s too late for that.” He caressed your face, the tears no longer trickling down your cheeks. “What terrifies me is the thought of not being with you.”

You sighed deep enough that it made your chest hurt. “You really believe in us?”

“Yes.” He replied without hesitation. “I do.” His words drenched in sincerity.

You knew the absolute soundness you felt in that moment could only be found in his arms. Javi had always cared for you, protected you, kept you safe. He offered all the things that those who had wronged you had failed to provide.

“It’s safe to fall.” He whispered. “I’m right here.”

You knew that the deep rooted fear inside you that made you question every relationship you’d ever had wouldn’t just magically disappear overnight. But you also knew that he would help ease your mind whenever you were in need of it.

Javi had never failed you and never would.

You shut your eyes, breathing him in, not wanting to let go of him just yet. With each passing minute you grew more convinced that perhaps what he had said was true. Maybe it was finally safe for you to fall.

#pedro pascal #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos netflix #javi x reader #fanfiction #oneshot #thinking of starting a masterlist maybe because i obviously have no plans to stop #i love this man so much you guys

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middleinthenight21 · 5 years ago

Text

One by one

summary: After the defeat of the Teen Titans, Raven agrees to lead the League of Shadows alongside Damian, but she must face her own fears and earn a place among the assassins. AU JUSTICE LEAGUE DARK: APOKOLIPS WAR SPOILERS

Rated M (Blood, intense violence, sexual themes and strong languague)

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to DC COMICS

PREFACE

The pain seemed like a steel stake that merged with her soul, penetrating her bones and wounding the blood vessels, touching the correct points and it would take a long time to rip it from her veins. Raven had suffered for whole days, it hurt so much that tears are not enough, although she knows that she must be strong, she cannot avoid being overwhelmed.

Conner looks up, his eyes that once were merry and rogue are now two empty sockets. The surviving Titans are gathered at the entrance to the island, away from the bloodshed, but their minds travel to painful places.

The cost of this war was high; it had taken Kory, Garfield, Wally, Roy, all her friends, her family. She no longer has the energy to speak, smile and wish for a better tomorrow; nothing would be the same anymore.

Her mind flies like a butterfly to Richard Grayson, her mentor and one of the best men she had ever known, he was one of the fallen. If he were here, he would know how to turn off the silence of death. He would guide them as always and take them away from the pain as he could. She wants to see him one last time and say goodbye accordingly, share even a moment with her friends, she would tell Kory that she was like a mother to her and she would never forget her, she represented a beacon of light in the dark, but she knows the immense love Kory had for Dick and she does not want to see the suffering on their faces when she finds out about the death of her partner. One of her parts thinks that perhaps it is better that both were dead, it avoided that they will mourn the death of the other, at least death is a simple thing and they could rest.

If there is something called heaven, she is sure that her friends would be there, they got the simple part. Raven knows that she will not go to heaven, it is not made for the daughters of demons, but she would be happy because somewhere they would be happy and reunited, although she would never see them again.

She wonders because of all of them she is who survived, she did not deserve it. Others think the same.

Donna hugs her knees, looks like a little girl holding on to a stuffed animal. Her hair is covered in a layer of dirt and debris, her uniform has cuts and her shoulder is hurt. A stab so deep that it reveals the bone, they had washed her, and Raven wanted to heal her, but she didn't let her. The young Amazon did not complain but Raven saw the pain on her face and the sweat like a film on her forehead, perhaps it is better to focus on physical suffering.

The rain creeps off the fire, nobody moves. Their bodies are wet, and it doesn't bother them, it's as if discomfort and cold are nothing.

What will they do now? They do not return to the tower for days, which before represented hope and dreams, where lonely young people found a home now it is a killing field. She had heard the story of Icarus. The young man who made wings, attached them to his back with wax and flew very close to the sun. His wings were melted by the temperature and he collapsed, his body crashed to the ground.

Perhaps they were like Icarus, their glory days were short, and the heroes had sealed their own tomb when they invaded Apokolips. Even if they managed to recover, the world would never be the same, it would never be the same.

''Your heroes were scum, a bunch of arrogant idiots, daughter. If I had freed myself...''

Turn off your voice.

How do you learn to live with the impossible? Raven would take the pain of her friends, keep it, and suffer in solitude, if they smiled back at her. Watching Jump City is painful, it reminds her of her first home, when she lost her mother in the blink of an eye and was forced to live with that mistake. She would lay down her life for Kory, offer her remaining strength and magic to win back her friends.

How would she go on? How is it possible to recover from this?

"I'll go back to Themiscyra." says Donna. Her voice is a whisper, and the rain hits her body forming rivers of dirty water. She doesn't know if there are tears running down her cheeks or it's just the rain. "I'm leaving tonight."

They don't say anything.

The news hits Raven, despite everything, she still thinks she can stay. She does not want to lose a friend as valuable as the Amazon, but she also knows that they have to leave. They cannot stay, the tower is destroyed, there is no reason to return, and at any moment the parademons can return. It pains her to think that something she has worked so hard for was dissolving in her hands.

"Go soon…." Conner sighs. The boy does not move, he is like a statue and his eyes remain focused on the fire of the bonfire being extinguished by the rain and the smoke, a curtain that is dividing his friends. "At least you'll be in a safe place, Donna." the Amazon doesn't say anything.

He watches her and, wonders what it's like to have a home. A place he could take refuge, arms outstretched to hug, familiar faces wishing for the best and healing. Conner does not have a family. He is the result of an experiment and he does not think that he considers Lex Luthor as his father and they did not know where Superman was. Raven lost her mother and dimension years ago. They have no place to go.

If her mother and Azarath were alive, she might run into her arms, hug Arella, and cry until her eyes were dry, exposing her feelings and emotions like never before.

''You were always strong, daughter. If there is someone who can recover from anything, it is you.'' Arella told her this when she broke her leg after falling from a tree and she had to resist the magical procedures of the monks. She still remembers how her mother had caressed her forehead. Wiping away the sweat, her grunts and complaints, how she placed a kiss on her forehead gently.

''You are trusting, too proud and arrogant.'' the older monk murmured when she escaped from the lessons and appeared for the exams, emerging victorious. Raven thought the monk hated her when she forced him to find her among the temples. He grumbled and growled, but she saw the fun in his emotions and had been some kind of grumpy grandfather. When Trigon razed the dimension, she only found a broken skull, it was the only thing left of the monk.

They had left her dealing with her mistakes, blaming herself for what she did as a child; feeling helpless in hell and fighting her father. The Titans were no different, her mind wonders what would have been had she escaped from Trigon after he attacked Superman, if he hadn't listened to them and traveled between dimensions, maybe the end result wouldn't hurt as much.

Her mother visits her at night.

In her dreams she is never angry at what she did. The monk still looks for her and scolds her when she runs through the squares, all the monks and the bright skies are there. Now she adds other burdens on her back, Dick's mischievous gaze, Kory's softness, Garfield's silly jokes, as Jaime loved competition and spoke with love about his younger sister.

Shit, she would miss them so much.

She had had a home and lost it, when she let her guard down and became fond again, they took it from her in the worst possible way.

Now one of her friends was leaving her.

Her insides ache and she thinks she can vomit right now. She feels the anxiety devouring her guts, the pain showing up and the idea of being alone terrifies her too much. She is afraid of being alone in a ghost town.

Jump City is her second Azarath.

In her native dimension there were no decomposed and dismembered bodies. The smell of blood did not rise, and no cries were heard from afar. There was only fire and ashes, and the voice of her father manipulating the situation, insisting that it is the best she has, now only the deaf suffering remains.

"I'll be going too." Raven gasps. Feeling the weight of loneliness and swallows hard. "I need to see if the Kent’s are okay." Conner looks up, as if expecting someone to appear in the clouds. "He would want it." he murmurs.

She looks down, her hair is wet, and a drop of rainwater descends from her head to her forehead, it is the only thing she perceives. Raven does not have a family, they do not expect her return on a protected island and there is no house in the middle of the field, there is no one waiting for her.

Everything she owned was taken from him.

Perhaps only death, loneliness and pain would be her faithful companions. She imagines herself wandering among the rubble, observing in first person what was left of the city that they protected for years, trying to find herself between the disaster and the tears. She doesn't want that.

What will become of her now?

When Damian shows up, he has civilian clothes, his hands are broken and there is a thick layer of mud that stains his clothes, his nails are a mixture of earth and blood. His face is neutral, and his eyes are hard, there is a grimace that has not left his face and she thinks it may be something permanent.

He stares spitefully at the Superman symbol on Conner's chest.

Titus follows, the Great Dane trotting alongside his companion. The formality and discipline that characterized the dog seemed attenuated, as if he knew that the situation was not good and he did not want to cause problems. She looks him in the eye, he sits next to her, does not give her second glances, there is a backpack on his back and reality hits her, like a slap.

''I'm the only thing you have, witch.''

She had barely seen Damian since the fall of the Teen Titans. He stood next to Dick's body, as if he couldn't believe it and the pain was a tsunami for a few moments, until he looked up straight at the sky. Raven had watched him harden, build a breastplate for himself, and she hasn't felt so much anger coming from the young man since he came to the Titans.

He did not let the wound in his torso heal, he treated it by himself without anesthesia and when the pain came he preferred to find out inside, she felt that she was losing him, that the person who visited her in her room in the afternoons, who drank tea in porcelain cups and worried about her safety more than anyone, was no longer here. Raven thought she had punctured his walls, that they could look each other in the eye untethered, but she knows she will no longer be able to knock him down.

Her soul is in pieces, but she prefers that he leave. That he leaves in silence because at least they would not have a farewell and she would not cry to see his back without looking back. Damian would hurt less to leave her behind, he's strong and would fight to earn a place in the world, and Raven would be left in the ruins with nothing to hold on to, there would be nothing that mattered to her. No one would cry for her.

''Even your friends are leaving you. I am the only thing you have.''

What a miserable life.

"I'm leaving." Damian declares. It was direct and cold, and Raven hopes it will be. "I leave in the morning. "

Of course.

"Good luck." Donna hugs her knees tighter. She hides her head and they can see how she trembles and is collapsing. They do nothing to comfort her and Titus is the only one sitting next to her, but he does not make any movement, he is simply there. "They'll be fine, right?" She says in a broken voice.

The sobs seem just as useless and sad as the rain. Raven thinks Donna is expressing herself for the group, as no one else had shed a single tear and they kept their pain to themselves. For a few minutes their heads are too helpless to provide encouragement.

Conner grimaces at the girl. She can feel the suffering tearing his soul, his mouth trembles in what looks like a pout and his eyes are red, threatening to shed tears, but before this happens, he puts on his glasses. One of the lenses is broken and it is not very protective or effective.

He puts on his glasses as if that will remind him of who he is, but it's more than that. He uses it so they don't see him cry.

Damian remains motionless, clenching his fists and frowning. She can see the thoughts going through his head, like a whirlpool and he doesn't let her see his emotions, he is a ghost that Raven cannot chase.

They are all ghosts that will disappear in a few hours.

***

When Donna leaves, she is silent. The girl had been crying for hours until she sighed and got up, when she managed to regain her composure, she did not look back or say goodbye, but takes off when the sun hides among the mountains.

It is as if the star knew what was happening, since it disappears on the horizon along with her friend.

Raven is left remembering the moments she shared with Donna, knowing that perhaps she will never see her again.

***

"Be well." Conner grimaces. He was about to leave as he was worried about the Kent’s. He hadn't shared much with the couple, but they were kind of parents to Superboy and he tried to keep in touch. She would like to tell him that the old couple are fine, however this is hardly possible, "We had some good years." he keeps his eyes on the stars. "But I'm done."

Raven remains silent, clasping her hands in her lap and ducking her head. Conner is about to leave and cannot feel worse because she knows that she is staying alone. She wants to be angry with them for not considering her in their plans. Leaving her with a wound in her heart so big that she does not know how to cure the pain, but she is not like them.

She has no one and everyone needs to recover, at least until the suffering was bearable. Now they are sore, tired and want to be anywhere but here.

She's not going to blame Conner for leaving.

She wasn't going to blame them for leaving her behind.

"Will you take care of yourself?"

She raises her head in surprise at the question. Conner is looking at her through his glasses.

"I can take care of myself." But her inner strength is faltering.

Silence is a monster, he does not respond, but sighs while staring at the tower and a pout forms on his mouth, it is a trembling line "Send my good wishes to Damian." The Son of Batman disappeared with Titus after Donna left, giving the excuse that the animal wanted to eat and something inside Raven cut off at the thought that he might go. That it might be the last time she would see him. Conner's feet floated a few inches off the ground, and he looked at Raven. "Find me if you need anything ... "

She nodded.

Her hands trembled at the sides of her body, as if she had no control. It pained her to think that she was being left alone, her memory returning to the battle, to the place where she was before the world became a field of deaths and tormented souls. She thinks of Darkseid, he had inflicted more damage on them than he thought. He is probably sitting on a throne with death as his servant, millions of lives in his hands, mocking the stupidity of those who faced him, keeping them alive was a punishment.

It would have been better if she died… Dying is easy.

But her death is not easy, it would not come from anywhere and Raven always knew that she would have a long existence. Right now, she just thinks it would be better to die in battle, at least she would take Trigon with her and...

''Let me out, daughter. I can...''

"Goodbye, Rae."

Conner disappeared into the heavy clouds laden with the promise of a thunderstorm. The superhero is so dramatic that he chose to leave when the mist covers the destroyed shoreline of Jump City, when pieces of the buildings still fall to the ground and there is a concrete explosion, like a bomb.

Even the sky is sad.

Raven closes her eyes by burying her head in her hands, struggling with the situation, with the silence that is a being that tries to eat her. It is ironic to her as she described herself as someone silent, a friend of private spaces and that old comfort of when you contemplate a landscape, now her qualities are defects.

No one would save her.

She does not have her friends to sustain herself in the midst of pain and despair, there is only death and abandonment.

A lump is installed in her throat and she cannot get rid of it.

''You are weak, you filthy witch. You are just like your mother.''

''I love you to the moon and back.'' says his mother. Her mind goes back to that time when she escaped from a lesson only to chase that little cat who was stealing her lunch and the monks had scolded her. She thought she would be angry and would approve of her being punished, but she watched her with love and caressed her cheeks. ''I don't care if they tell you that you are proud, confident and highlight your flaws. You are my girl, my little bird.''

''You are the most hopeful heroine I have ever met.'' Dick smiled at her and the sun illuminated his features. A sweet softness wrapped around him as Kory joined them, the alien taking her hand. ''Don't go, stay with the Teen Titans.'' observed Dick. ''We can help you choose clothes, remodel your room and accompany you to buy those little ducks that go in the bathtub.''

None of them are here, they are just voices that would be lost over time. Raven doesn't want to forget, she has no right to recover from this.

It would have been better to die.

An arm wraps around her shoulder, she doesn't need her powers to know that it’s Damian and she finds herself burying her head in his chest, clutching her fists to his clothes, as if he is going to disappear. She doesn't want him to leave, Raven wants his heart to return, she thinks he would be better elsewhere. Her intentions were never to win with Damian, and she would give in if that implied the safety of this boy. She just wants him to be happy.

Damian lost his brother. They did not know what had happened to Batman and Gotham fell a few days ago. He has nothing.

He pressed down on her body and she could feel his jaw pressed to her head. If she lost him, she would keep this moment forever, she clinging to his arms and he wrapping his arms around her when the sky opens and reveals the stars. She wants to memorize his scent, his strength and he is a point in a story that she did not reach to be narrated; If she had been braver, she would have confessed her feelings to him before, but her life is not made for fairy tales. They are built on a darker premise.

Titus groans and rests his head on her shoulder, runs his tongue over her face and it is a relief. She will miss the animal.

What hero has a happy story?

In another reality he could be hers, or at least enter her life in a different way, even if he rejects her, she would still have him and that would be enough.

She feels his mouth open and close, not knowing what to say. She knows what he will say.

"Don't cover it with sugar, Damian."

He is silent. Raven looks up, still refusing to give up his arms and is looking into his eyes, her green eyes are looking directly at her and she can't believe that this is her end.

She would remember the green tone of his eyes, not compared to wet grass, to the water of a river, but to jade. Damian has grown in recent years; his jaw has become square and must be shaved to get a beard away from his face. His skin color has become more olive, his bones ached when he had a rapid growth and his body developed muscles in the areas closer to that of grown man.

He has changed.

"I'll go back to the League of Assassins." he frowns. "I have already spoken to Lady Shiva."

She thought it would hurt, but she couldn't imagine how much, and her fingers were loosening. Her knowing it was coming indirectly is one thing, hearing it from his lips makes it a reality and loneliness crushes her heart.

Donna is gone.

Conner disappeared into the clouds a few hours ago.

Damian was leaving her now, too.

She had to have seen the signs, maybe it was her bad judgment that convinced her that there was a remote chance that he would stay, but what for? He has nothing to fight for, they cannot remain in the tower forever.

"Oh." escapes her lips.

Suddenly she's walking away, and it may be the last time she sees him.

She wonders if Damian has no doubts. He left the League of Assassins for years and Batman does not approve of Ra's Al Ghul lifestyle, only the one he had intended for his son and instilled other values in him, he would not think well of Damian upon returning. Raven does not know what to think, the barrier could deepen between the two, the league is full of criminals. Maybe going back to the league is the only thing he had as insurance in his life, there is no Nightwing, Batman or the Teen Titans.

One part of her justifies it, but the other is terrified to discover what he could become.

"Everyone is leaving." she murmurs. She tries to keep her tone neutral, but it breaks like a tuned guitar string.

Where would she go? She doesn't have a home, can't even look at the tower without feeling devastated, overwhelmed with pain, and wouldn't be able to make it through the city on her own. Her empathic abilities would end up driving her insane, there's too much pain, the city is kindled by suffering and from a distance she distinguishes its colors.

Damian looks down and she sees the fight in his mind, she almost wants to pass a hand to smooth the wrinkle that forms between his brows.

She would miss that wrinkle.

"Come with me. "

What?

He watches her, there is a shyness sparkle in his eyes and if he had not been so close, he may not even hear it, his proposal is so fast in a thick tone that it would be confusing, but Raven heard it clearly.

She is stunned by the offer.

"Come with me. Lead the League of Assassins by my side." He was looking her in the eye now. His katana in its case, and him in a hoodie. He looks casual, as if he had never witnessed death and pain with his own eyes. "You can do it. You are a good fighter."

Hope was shining within her, Damian wanted them to go together, but she is not an assassin; she has nothing to claim among the ranks of the league.

She can't imagine leading an organization made up of assassins, but where would she go? She has nothing and nobody. She had heard that her mother had a sister, but Arella never spoke directly of her family, limiting herself to just Raven and she doubts very much that they would have survived. She doesn't want to say goodbye to Damian Wayne and watch him go off into the unknown.

Say Yes! A voice inside shouts, it’s optimistic marked by blind love and the promise of a tomorrow, perhaps not a better one, but it is still a more decent future than one of solitude and corpses. She is surprised at how idealistic she can be, even with everything that happened, she still dreamed of this boy, she still sighed because he was offering her a different life, one that would allow her to see him every day. You are not an assassin.

They are his people, not yours, a wicked voice warned her, it is like a snake poisoned with truth, more damaging than her father's words.

''Do you think you will write the tale of the witch and the assassin, idiot girl? '' Trigon scoffs. ''Don't make me laugh, daughter. You are weak, you have always been equal to your mother who believed in demons that fall in love with humans and golden futures.''

Do you want to play the queen of assassins so much?

Raven ducks her head, refusing to look him in the eye. Her mind was in conflict, she wanted to quench her father's teasing and her racing heart believing that he would not leave her alone. She wished for them to build a future together, but she also knows that the place where they would go is not idyllic; It is not a paradise.

"We can be secure." he offers as if it were the last resort. Damian's tone is soft, but it is mixed with doubt and silent resignation, as if he were realizing that she would say no. "It is one of the safest places on the planet."

She strokes his uniform cape, as if to remind herself that this is real, and he is still here.

They look at each other in the eyes. Damian's breathing is heavy, time freezes and she knows that this moment can define what would be of her life in what they had left, she could change it for better or worse.

The person in front of you. The future in front of you.

For the first time in three days she looks at the tower, it is destroyed, holes and cracks damage the T and she realizes that he cannot stay. She cannot bear the idea of being alone, she could not compose herself; she doesn't want to go through another hell where she only has Trigon as a company, him feeding on her pain and weakness. Her father would feel no empathy for her, even if she died, he would still worry about himself.

Maybe it would not be perfect, but it is a future, and she does not want to lose him.

"I'm going to go." She clears her throat. "I'll go with you to the League of Assassins."

Damian nods.

***

She hadn't expected the trip to be this long, but Damian insists it would be days. Nanda Parbat is a fortress in Tibet, she is trying to locate it on the map, and she is half a world away, so they must take a trip on a plane waiting for them outside Jump City. She does not distinguish the face of the pilot, as he is covered by a mask that only leaves his eyes exposed and bows when he sees Damian.

Raven had looked out the window at the decimated city. She has not packed, did not want to rescue anything that was her home, but found a jewel that had belonged to Starfire; she said that it was the only thing she could bring from Tamaran, it is a violet stone that catches sunlight and reminds her of her friend. It had been lying a few meters from her shattered body, as if in her last moments she had clung to the stone.

It breaks her heart when she sees the jewel.

Titus rests his head on her lap and yawns. She smiles at the animal and strokes its head; he had been a loyal and brave dog not to be disturbed when seeing the chaos that the world had become. His soft fur is like the fibers of a carpet and it is warm, like a stuffed animal. He reminds her of good things, laughs in the park, the pet store that always smelled of food, and a box of puppies they gave away in the city center.

The pilot barely looks at her. She is surprised by the technology of the plane, although it is small. Damian sits in the passenger seat, as if he were the one directing it, gives the pilot instructions in another language and the man nods.

When the plane takes off, Raven cannot take her eyes off the city. She feels bad for leaving the corpses of her friends and not giving them a decent burial and leaving. They deserved better.

Watching Jump City hurts, however, she can't look away either.

She wonders what Kory, Garfield, or any of her friends would think if they found out what she was doing, would they get mad? Perhaps they were reproving her from heaven, they look at her with furious eyes and they would have a bad opinion of her decision to follow Damian to lead an organization that the heroes disapprove of.

Jump City, the city where memories had been formed and would remain here, the destroyed tower is a point on the small island from afar, it seems like a fallacy that a few weeks ago she would have lived in that tower with other thoughts hanging around her head. She stretches out her hand on the glass when the plane is about to take off, her fingers touch the point where the destroyed tower is positioned and murmurs a silent prayer to Uxia, the spirit that guides souls to eternal rest and is the protector of the martyrs, to direct her fallen friends to a better place than she is heading for.

"Goodbye." she whispers.

She wants to see their faces for the last time, that they are in a place full of light. Because people as wonderful as them deserve the best, if this life did not offer it to them, then let it be in the next ones.

Feeling eyes on her, Damian is watching her from the passenger seat and there is a grimace on his face, he disappears in the blink of an eye and presses buttons and continues giving orders with a firm voice.

Titus falls asleep on her lap.

The plane takes off and for a few moments she swears that there is a figure flying around the tower, but by then the plane has already crossed the mountains and she is observing the ocean.

Raven presses the jewel that belonged to her friend against her chest, praying that she had not been wrong and blinded by feelings.

''You are weak. You are running away like your mother, but don't worry, daughter; you'll ruin it anyway. You always do it.''

***

@ravenfan1242 Thank you ❤❤❤

The fanfiction will have ten parts

Inspired by Batman Beyond and Games of Thrones

See you in two weeks!

#damirae #damirae fanfiction #damian x raven #Damian Wayne #Raven #DC animated universe #demonbirds #onebyonepreface #onebyone

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koostory · 4 years ago

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001. writing sample (long) / jeon jungkook x reader

And then you’d appeared. Shot across his sky like a comet, brilliant and beautiful and fluorescent, lighting up his life like the burst of a supernova.

“They’re lovely.”

“But they’re kind of a waste.”

Hasn’t, since you’d come home, since dinner, since exactly four hours and four minutes ago.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He believes you. He swears he does, even if the words come tumbling out, glass too full to hold them all. “You didn’t like the flowers.”

“I’m sorry.” This time, he means it as thank you.

“Me too.” And you mean it as I love you.

#sample.zip

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irisrecs · 5 years ago

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buzzfeed unsolved fanfiction recommendations

This is all Ryan/Shane— so don’t like, don’t read.

PSA: I am not in any way stating that Ryan and Shane from Buzzfeed Unsolved and Watcher are together, or that I want them to be together; this is for entertainment use only. I urge you to not contact them or @ them on twitter or instagram making comments about their relationship, as they are humans just like the rest of us. Some things are none of our business!

This is a masterlist of my favourite fanfictions in this fandom! Thanks to @gigaledom for cheering me on. Never thought I was going to do more RPF, but here I am.

Under 10k

and i’m puffing my chest, getting red in the face by pissedofsandwich- 6k, Teen

Summary: "Zack's going to be there?" Shane asks, masking his... whatever it is he's feeling in his chest, with nonchalance.

Ryan blinks. "Yes?"

Well, never mind dancing with the fucking sun. He’s Icarus, wings melted and falling face-first into the asphalt.

Or: Shane is definitely not at all jealous of how close Zack and Ryan are getting during the making of Sports Conspiracies. Except that he is.

My notes: They’re both so jealous of each other and so bad at communication. Thank goodness they have their friends to help them out! Really funny and entertaining!

lay your demons at the door by abovetheruins— 7k, Teen and Up

Summary: Ryan had been so careful. For months he had learned to train his face into a semblance of normalcy every time a spirit got too close or he was overwhelmed with some indiscernible emotion on location. He had learned to channel his fear into something more manageable, something entertaining enough for the cameras but not so severe that anyone would be able to tell he wasn’t just jumping at shadows or groaning floorboards anymore.

Shane wasn’t supposed to find out. He wasn't supposed to know.

My Notes: The Seer!Ryan AU that I wasn’t expecting to like so much. A lot of pining and caring! Shane with a lovely ending!

First Impressions by luxbuhree— 9k, Mature

Summary: The chance to work with and sit next to THE Shane Madej was one of the things Ryan was looking forward to, now that he's starting his first day in BuzzFeed. But while he was expecting a charming and friendly guy, he was instead met with someone who couldn't care any less.

Will the case of why Shane hates Ryan remain unsolved?

My notes: In which Shane is really bad at feelings and Ryan has the hots for a certain person who pins him against walls. Awesome ending.

a short history of almost something by cooliohoolio— 6k, No Warnings

Summary: "I think I'll wait another year."

Shane's in love with Ryan, and will get around to telling him. One of these days.

My notes: A lovely short high school! AU with mutual pining. They’re best friends ahhh

only happy accidents by barnes— 8k, Explicit

Summary: In hindsight, Shane is too old to have thought that friends with benefits was something that the two of them would be able to pull off. He’s had friends with benefits before that worked beautifully, but they were not with people whose jobs were tied up in his own, whose friendships were as closely interwoven into Shane’s everyday life as Ryan’s is. He’d thought these were the very things that could keep it from getting weird, because they were such good buddies, Ryan would be solidly cemented as his pal that nothing could shift him.

This was a miscalculation, on Shane’s part.

My Notes: I’m not usually a fan of friends with benefits to lovers, but this had so much mutual pining and fluff that I enjoyed it so much! A must-read.

Gurl, Imma Marry You (ryan is a mess) by orphan_account— 2k, General Audiences

Summary: Ryan is perpetually doing dumb things. Starting a ghost show? Dumb. Going to demon houses? Dumb. Talking to ghosts? Dumb.

But those are all new dumb things. Ryan's known he wants to marry Shane forever. That is an incredibly old dumb thing.

My notes: Really cute and fluffy and I love it so much. It’s a kind of read-to-make-yourself-feel-better kind of fic!

Por Favor, Sweetheart by carrieonfighting— 8k, Teen and Up

Summary: Two dorks raise a baby and don't even realise they're doing it together until it's too late

Alternatively, Ryan Bergara is Trying His Best Thanks

My notes: Normally not a raising-a-child-fic person, but holy smokes this was written so well and the fluff! the domesticity i-

Pushing All Your Buttons by beethechange�� 9k, Explicit

Summary: Ryan and Shane get stuck in an elevator at Buzzfeed HQ. There is tension. They relieve the tension. That’s it, that’s the fic.

My notes: I was literally able to see the tension floating off my laptop in front of my face, it was so palpable.

Under 20k

like you want to be loved by poetdameron— 16k, Teen and Up

Summary: "Settle down with me", Shane says without thinking and as Ryan looks at him with wide open eyes, all he can think of it's how many of Ryan's secrets he knows, how Ryan likes his coffee, and the fact that he has loved him since the moment Ryan first looked up at him and smiled.

My notes: The PINING and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT and ANGST my god. Really well written and lovely happy ending.

ships that pass in the night by beethechange— 20k, Explicit

Summary: The more Ryan thinks about it, the more he thinks he just needs to return the favor, that’s all. And then it’ll be done, like it was meant to be done weeks ago, and they can both move on for real.

It’s not that he wants to. It’s that he won’t be able to stop thinking about it until he evens the score. He has to restore balance to the Force or order to the universe, or—or whatever. It’s a karma thing.

“I think you have to let me jerk you off,” Ryan tells Shane one night. They’re working late, alone in the Watcher office, one of many such late nights these days.

“Wh—here?” Shane asks. He looks around, baffled, like he’ll have been magically transported somewhere else. “Have to?” And then: “Let you?”

My notes: haha what if I dare you to jerk me off dude haha don’t be a chicken

Do you not know how love works? by leylines— 12k, No Rating

Summary: “Fuck you, man,” Ryan growled, rubbing his tailbone where he landed on when he fell down just moments ago.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what Devon already thinks we’re doing,” Shane said cheerfully, not at all sounding bothered by the thought.

“Oh shut up, dude.”

My notes: One of my favourite things in this cold, dark universe is when two characters are dating but they don’t know it but everyone else does. This is so hilarious and warms my dead heart

Full-Court Press by beethechange— 12k, Explicit

Summary: To be clear, these are not tactics Ryan would recommend. Being an athleisure-obsessed pervert, and lying, and clothes-sabotage: these are not things he’s proud of.

But they have undeniably worked.

Shane’s standing next to him in the hotel lobby while Devon checks them all out of their rooms, and he's wearing a sleeveless purple Lakers jersey and the world’s softest, clingiest sweatpants. It’s so exactly as Ryan pictured it, so precisely in line with his fantasies, that he has to pinch himself.

My notes: Really hot and funny and p i n i n g

may your days be merry and bright by bodhirookes— 19k, General Audiences

Summary: “Your turn, Ry Ry.”

Ryan looks down to find only one piece of paper remaining. “Wow, so much selection to choose from.”

“No time for your negativity, Scrooge. Your Secret Santa deserves a better attitude.”

Ryan sticks his tongue out, but takes the slip of paper. He’s loudly yelling Give me Jen, please please please give me Jen as he unfolds it, but he’s too busy begging for her to be truly prepared for what he ends up getting:

A simple but damning SHANE in Andrew’s scribbly handwriting.

Or, Ryan gets Shane for Secret Santa and has a subsequent breakdown about what to get him

Notes: This is so sweet and cute and I would die for both of them. A lovely classic christmas fic!

want you in my room by beethechange— 13k, Explicit

Summary: As they watch, Tall Guy takes his beanie off, revealing a mess of thick, shiny brown hair. He runs his hand through it to shake out the hat hair and Ryan feels like he’s stuck in an Herbal Essences commercial, except he’s the one making inappropriate lustful noises.

Ryan adjusts his snapback, determined. He is, after all, wearing his very finest basketball shorts, without even a single hole at the hem, and the knowledge puts an extra spring in his step.

“I’m gonna climb that dude like a tree,” he tells Curly.

My notes: Just really dumb, cute pining in a wonderful frat boy/nerd college AU!

Long boys

Muscles Better and Nerves More by beethechange— 26k, Explicit

Summary: “I’m serious,” Ryan says. “Don’t go fucking up my body. I want that shit back in the same condition I left it.”

“The same condition—Ryan. I’m not spending hours in a gym every day so you don’t lose muscle mass.”

“I want you to treat my body with the respect you would a national park. Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but memories.”

***

A certain meddling Voodoo Queen of New Orleans thinks Ryan and Shane need some new perspective on life. After an inadvisable ritual deposits Ryan in Shane’s body, and Shane in Ryan’s, the ghoulboys pursue some soul-searching and self-discovery to put things right. Sometimes in a sexy way.

My notes: This is so sexy and in character! A freaky friday kinda scenario where they only switch back when they pull their figurative heads out of their asses. So wonderful.

Dreams to be daring for by allonsy_gabriel— 24k, General Audiences

Summary: On May 11, 2018, Eleanora Rose Austin was born in Chicago, Illinois.

On May 20, 2018, Shane Alexander Madej agreed to act as the godfather to his best friend from college's daughter.

On October 26, 2018, Olivia and Michael Austin were victims of a mugging gone sideways.

On October 29, 2018, Shane Madej found himself in the possession of one real, actual, human child.

My notes: Accidental Baby Acquisition is now my favourite trope because of this fic. The fact that they’re already acting like a couple with the baby before they actually become one is sooo beautiful,,, give it a read im begging you

Fifty Shades of Gold by beethechange— 21k, Explicit

Summary: Shane tires of doing the same bits over and over. He tires of telling the same stories until they all, him and Ryan and the fans, have every beat memorized. Whenever Ryan pulls out his Ricky Goldsworth impression, ah yes, that old chestnut, Shane plays along only begrudgingly. He’s bored.

That’s his official position: he’s over Ricky Goldsworth.

Shane’s unofficial position, regrettably, is that he’d rather be under Ricky Goldsworth.

My notes: Shane’s got the hots for Ricky Goldsworth and that’s the TEA. Lots of sexual tension and cute and unsure! Ryan!

Precious metals by StrikerEureka— 73k, Mature

Summary: Ryan and Shane have been moving around something that is coming to a head between them. After a car accident, on the way to an investigation, Ryan slowly starts to become suspicious that Shane might not be what he seems. He realizes, though, that he just might not care.

Shane sits forward suddenly. “Hey, pull over up here.”

Ryan follows the instruction without questioning it, which probably says something about either his willingness to listen to Shane or his sanity. Maybe both; they go hand in hand. He puts on his blinker, even though they haven’t seen another car in a couple of minutes, and pulls off onto the shoulder.

“Are you gonna puke or something?” he asks, putting the car into park, as Shane takes off his seatbelt with one hand and tugs off his Ray Bans with the other.

“You better hope not,” he murmurs as he leans over the center console and kisses Ryan solidly on the mouth.

My notes: My favourite Demon!Shane AU ever! Really sweet and loads of tension and pining... must-read.

darling it’s a faded notion by varnes— 28k, Explicit

Summary: The sun is too bright and Ryan’s whole body is alight with something that is eating him all the way up from the inside out, but he keeps his eyes open and he makes himself look, and he tells himself that once he finds Shane, he’ll think about it. Once he finds Shane, they’ll make a plan. Once he finds Shane, and only then, he’ll let himself have the thought he’s been swallowing down like bile since he came to: that they didn’t fall.

They were pushed.

OR: Ryan and Shane get cursed by a ghost, and now they can't be not-touching. It's ... not great.

My notes: They get cursed and have to be touching all the time!! and they’re pining so hard y’all like what more could one want

Bed-warm Hands and the Ghost of Elvis by MiraclesofPaul— 21k, Teen and Up

Summary: They get used to sharing a bed while filming the show. Ryan's just trying not to let his feelings get in the way.

So Ryan tells himself he’s going to ride out whatever it is they’ve fallen into, but he’ll bow out gracefully when the time comes. He can just enjoy the now.

My notes: They share a bed!!! And their hearts!! so much lack of communication, it’s wonderful

Hope that someone will enjoy these fics that I did so very much! If you want more buzzfeed unsolved fics let me know because i’ve read sooo much fanfiction...

—Iris

#iris recs #fanfic recs #fanfiction #long post #buzzfeed unsolved #shyan #shyan fanfiction #shyan masterpost #pining #long fic #getting together #short fic #skeptic believer

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buckysbest · 5 years ago

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CHAPTER TWO: NO SHAME PAIRING: ex!Bucky barnes x reader Warnings: Swearing Series Summary: Bucky realizes one can only run from their problems for so long before they must returns home but he sure as hell wasn't expecting her to be there when he did. Word count: 1.2k A/N: This Series is based off the Album “Calm” by 5sos. If you want to follow along in the album, listen to No Shame while reading this!

Series masterlist // Masterlist Coming soon

New York provided no shade from the bright lights of fame despite your relocation from LA. Every time your foot exited your new apartment building in Manhattan, camera flashing swarmed your vision like bloodthirsty hornets. Equally unrelenting were the men holding them, often shouting crude and vicious rumors to get a reaction. It came with the life you were gifted. Being as close to Tony as you were, fame crept behind you constantly, hiding in the deep recesses of alleys and buildings you passed. It wasn't anything you chose, far from it actually. Somehow you went from humble uni student to famous confidant of Tony Stark.

It is true he took you under his wing, but it wasn't your fault he viewed you as his own daughter. Yet despite this, you were the one who had to deal with the fallout of it. The paparazzi, the vicious fans, the lack of privacy. A bit of you reveled in it because occasionally, it was nice to be the center of attention. Occasionally. You were lucky that Tony set you up with a lovely PR team, predicting the outcome of the growing friendship between the two of you. This meant you were trained for these things. The paps, the interviews, the tours. It is what came with the life. At least that's what you kept repeating to yourself as you put on a brave face and walked through the crowd with a gracious confidence and a kind smile, surrounded by brute security who did not mirror your compassion for those around you. As soon as you collapsed in the car, the smile fell from your face faster than Icarus fell from the sky. Fittingly too. It wasn't too long ago you had true happiness. Being lifted from a less than glamorous life and shoved into the spotlight had its perks. Having a team with you wherever you went meant you were never hungry or worrying about paying rent or struggling to pay off student loans. But when you fly too close to the sun….

“Hey Max, would you mind turning on some music?”

“Of course Miss. Y/N” His hand momentarily left the wheel to turn on the radio and returned just as quickly. Swells of some band you didn't quite know filled the all-to-empty compartment of a vehicle meant for 6. Opening your phone, you swiped through social media until you arrived at the compound. Max opening his front door triggered a fake smile upon your face as he wrapped around the car to let you out. Your hand was taken by Max and your Sophia Webster heel graced the pavement of the compound driveway as you exited the car, poise dripping from your every movement. This facade was dropped immediately when you entered the safety of the compound doors. Immediately taking off your heels, you quickly lost Max at the door and quickly moved to the safety of your room to avoid any unnecessary interactions. Collapsing into your prestigiously decorated room, you found a pair of leggings and a loose tank top to change into. You were home momentarily but you couldn't let that make you lazy and unpracticed according to the schedule your PR team sent you.

5:45am - Arrive at Compound

6:00am - Yoga in Training Studio

7:00am - Breakfast

7:25am - Meeting with Mr. Stark to Review notes

8:45am - Nail fill

And the list droned on and on until too late in the evening for your taste. You groaned, grabbing your yoga mat at its designated corner and burying your head in your phone, looking for a playlist to suit your next hour. Sliding in your headphones and clicking on the closet album, your bare feet quickly and quietly pattered down the hallway before you collided with someone significantly taller than you causing your phone and yoga mat to drop rather dramatically on the floor. Removing your ear buds, you froze reaching for your belongings as a laugh rang in your ears. “Here, let me help you wi-... Y/N?”His blue eyes pierced your heart as they met yours, at a distance too close for your liking. You could feel the color draining from your face like paint peeling from a wall. A wash of nausea hit you at full force, almost knocking you off your feet. Your eyes searched for an escape plan as time slowed around you and there it was in, its full body guard glory.

“Max! I’m over here!” The suit-clad man popped his head out from the crowd of identically dressed cronies and a look of relief washed across his middle-aged face. He quickly rushed toward your position, parting Bucky from you like Moses had the red sea. The same relief grabbed hold of your face as his little squad surrounded you, escorting you to the studio.

“Miss. Y/N, You know you're not supposed to leave my sight! I’m supposed to make sure you stick to your schedule and you don't make it very easy” You pushed a chuckle from your lips as you peered over your shoulder to the super soldier frozen in the middle of the hallway.

“If it was easy, everyone would do it Max,” you once again tried to play along, struggling to gain any sort of emotional footing under you.

•••

You could feel them looking at you despite you being the only one in the studio. The downside to the plan you had concocted was you couldn't escape the gaggle of security placed on you. It was infuriating that you were an adult and yet, you still found yourself surrounded by babysitters. To be fair, you weren’t known to handle stress very well and seeing he was back, you now understand why you had Max and his friends glued to your side this morning.

You exited the studio a tad more relaxed than when you entered. Your shoulders dropped a bit lower and a small smile found itself upon your face. “Alright Max, whats next?”

“Miss. Y/N, your breakfast has been prepared downstairs. You only have 25 min-”

“Max, I’ve told you… I can fend for myself ok?” you sighed, a small smile still on your face because you knew he was well-intentioned. You were welcomed to the sight of a large, hearty breakfast consisting of an assortment of organic and nutritious delights. While you would have rather sported a doughnut this morning, you were thankful you had people who cared for you this much. “Ok Max, I need you to get lost and let me enjoy myself while I’m home ok? I know it's your job so how about you walk me to where I’m supposed to be? Fair?”

“Miss. Y/N, You know I’m not supp-”

“Come onnnnn, Max! Please!”

The exasperated whine apparently struck a chord on his heartstrings because he agreed to your terms if his team watched you on the cameras.You took your bowl full of fruit back to your room and collapsed on your wonderful, wonderful bed. Your phone vibrated in your pocket as you flipped on the tv.

Bucky: I didn't know you were going to be here...We should talk?

Your heart dropped into your stomach and even the small amount of fruit you consumed seemed to spoil in your stomach.

Well Fuck.

#marvel x reader #marvel series #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #ex!au #ex!bucky barnes au #x reader #self insert #buckysbest #buckysbest calm

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